An instructor handed them a stapled sheaf, with intent to inspire. Corporate success is bound for you! Plan each day, we will show you how! First, fill your day with big rocks and stones, add in some pebbles and drizzle with sand. Inside these lines, you’ll shape your day. Stay inside the lines, try not to stray. The girl knew what was important to her. The big rocks were heavy; sometimes they weighed her down. The man across from her watched with glee. He understood what to do. His jacket wrinkled when he pushed aside the sheaf and leaned over, “Meet me outside?”
She paused; afraid she was, to cross the line. He didn’t hesitate and quietly asked, “Join me for a day in the park, let’s let the sun warm our feet.” His smile convinced her, “We’ll just talk and read, maybe have some iced tea?” The girl opened her sheaf and turned to a page, “I have only a few rocks on this day, I’ll meet you there at three.”
The road she drove on was gray and flat, full of rocks melded together and which she never minded. The park was green; summer was blooming and the sky was deep blue. She showed up in shorts and her hair in a pony. It wasn’t a date, just you know, a meeting between friends.
These are my rocks; I want you to see them all.
Into the pot, they threw in big stones, pebbles and all the sand they could find. Along came the family and added some too. Neighbors and friends, they couldn’t hold back, everyone had a rock they could give. People they didn’t know, people from around the world; everyone had a rock to rid.
By nightfall, there was a knock on the door. An old friend stopped by, a professor of sorts.
“They call me the alchemist; I can turn stone into soup, if you’ll just let me try.”
They turned to each other and smiled the same smile that crossed the abyss of a table. It might not work out; but maybe it would. They did as he said, and went on with their day. He dipped in the ladle and found the soup clear as consommé. They thought it was magic, a twist in the plot.
The alchemist was all the wiser; he knew magic wasn’t so clever. Magic was simply a stirring of words; a change of heart.