Story type: Essay
Three drops of water, stranded in a crevice on the side of an inland mountain, talked in this way:
First Drop–“They say there is an ocean whence we came and to which we shall return.”
Second Drop–“They say we three drops are made in the image of that ocean; that as far as we go, which is not far, we are miniature oceans.”
Third Drop–“Bosh and nonsense. There is no ocean. It is all superstition. Before we were born here, from the mist, what were we? When we evaporate in a few minutes what becomes of us? You two drops make me feel sorry for you. I know that when I cease reflecting that white cloud up there, that ends ME. I have no delusions about oceans or going back to anything.” —-
You know what happened. The cloud formed into rain and our three drops were washed into a tiny trickling stream. The thin stream of rain ran into a brook, the brook into a river. Soon the three drops were back in the ocean–possibly without knowing it.
Shall we some day go rolling back to the ocean of cosmic wisdom whence we came?
Is it possible that man is indeed made in the image of God, as drops are made in the ocean’s image–the individual men, like the individual drops, being sent forth to do necessary cosmic work through the universe, going back to the ocean after each errand is done, and so going back and forth, forever and ever?
That would not be such a mean destiny, we should say. It would certainly be a very democratic form of cosmic government. —-
Inferior men, inferior women, unworthy of comparison with perfect, cosmic wisdom?
Not at all. Not inferior men and women, but inferior mediums, inferior brains, bodies and planets through which to work.
Is one drop of water inferior to another? Is any inferior to the purest drop in the ocean?
No. But one drop runs through the gutter of a stable, another rolls from a mountain spring, a third carries in solution the germ of typhus. But all three came pure from the ocean and all will go back to the ocean pure.
Was this helpful?
0 / 0