The Story of Two Castles

The various objects that we see are impermanent. Because the various objects are all really the fundamental desire in us to see the impermanent things as permanent. This confusion between real and unreal is Maya.

I have a story to share.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A little boy is on his knees, scooping and packing the sand with plastic shovels into a bright blue bucket. Then he upends the bucket on the surface and lifts it. And, to the delight of the little architect, a castle-tower is created. All afternoon he will work. Spooning out the moat. Packing the walls. Bottle tops will be sentries. Popsicle sticks will be bridges. A sandcastle will be built.

Elsewhere. A Big city. Busy streets. Rumbling traffic. A man is in his office. At his desk he shuffles papers into stacks and delegates assignments. He cradles the phone on his shoulder and punches the keyboard with his fingers. Numbers are juggled and contracts are signed and much to the delight of the man, a profit is made. All his life he will work. Formulating the plans. Forecasting the future. Annuities will be sentries. Capital gains will be bridges. An empire will be built.

Two builders of two castles. They have much in common. They shape granules into grandeurs. They see nothing and make something. They are diligent and determined. And for both the tide will rise and the end will come. Yet that is where the similarities cease. For the boy sees the end, while the man ignores it. Watch the boy as the dusk approa­ches. As the waves near, the wise child jumps to his feet and begins to clap. There is no sorrow. No fear. No regret. He knew this would happen. He is not surprised. And when the great breaker crashes into his castle and his masterpiece is sucked into the sea, he smiles. He smiles, picks up his tools takes his father's hand, and goes home.

The grown-up, however, is not so wise. As the wave of years collapses on his castle, he is terrified. He hovers over the sandy monument to protect it. He blocks the waves from the walls he has made. Salt-water soaked and shivering he snarls at the incoming tide. 'It's my castle,'
he defies. The ocean need not respond. Both know to whom the sand belongs. We, the grown-ups, don't know much about sand-castles. But children do.

Watch them and learn. Go ahead and build, but build with a child's heart. When the sun sets and the tides take -- applaud. Salute the process of life and go home.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The story of the child, to an extent, reflects the story of my life in the US. And probably my tide is coming to wash away the castles of today...