Magic Stone Found!
"Tell me a story dad." Bedtime. Lights go out. I crawl into my sons' bed next to him. We pause for a moment, taking in the "universe" of glow in the dark stars on the ceiling above.
Often, he'll prefer an impromptu story over an official book. I'll make one up on the fly and together we imagine the story taking all sorts of funny twists and turns. (They often include trains and candy.)
Sometimes he likes to visit one of a few parables I picked up over the years.
"Tell me the one of the magic stone again..."
Okay, sure. It all started one cool day on the beach...
By the way, are YOU reading this now and excited to hear the bedtime story? Stories make great connections to young and old alike. Stories hold power and can carry legacies forward...
- - -
It all started one cool November day, a boy...just about your age...was on a vast stretch of open beach. His last beach day for the year. Even though it was too chilly to swim, he convinced his mom to let him run barefoot.
"It's cold, so stay out of the water" she said!
"Okay mom," the young boy responded....rolling his jeans up just high enough to avoid the tell-tale sign of wet disobedience. After all, a little foam from the surf just might happen to splash his ankles. Of course...by accident.
He flirted with the waves, running up to them and retreating quickly. Occasionally glancing to see if mom was watching. On a bench near the dunes...sipping her latte and clicking away on a blackberry.
Sand crab burying his head. Quick - dig! The boy lurched to his knees, scooping out handfuls of sand, but the crab eluded him this time...just as a wave washed into him from behind.
Wow....it's really cold. Mom see?!
Busy on the phone.
Distracted by the crab, the young boy hadn't noticed that he was no longer alone. An old man, long white beard, and a friendly stare appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Lumbering along the edge of the surf. Barefoot.
Stranger danger crossing the boy's mind, he righted himself, and retreated both hands to their pockets. Began pushing a few seashells back and forth with his feet.
"The magic stone you seek," blurted out the old man.
"Find it and all your wishes will come true," he said, trailing off as his stare slipped awkwardly into the distance and he began to walk away.
The boy stood motionless, watching the old fellow move along, until another wave chilled his ankles again.
"Wait. This magic stone...where is it? what does it look like?" the boy called sheepishly.
The old mans' stare continued down the beach.
"The magic stone is on this beach, of course. It's a stone, it looks like a stone."
"But, how will I know when I've found it then," asked the boy hands now gesturing and free from his pockets.
The old man turned to face the child, creating a human eclipse against the November southern sky. His white hair spun into a frenetic halo. The mans' eyes staring right through the boy...
"You'll know because it will be warm to the touch."
A blinding flash as the old man unveiled the sun once more, and he walked off down the beach...stopping occasionally to toss a stone into the ocean.
It was time to go...the boy's mom calling.
But that night, he couldn't stop thinking about the magic stone. Each day and every night that winter, he dreamed about the stone's power. He must find it. With the arrival of spring, the boy began his search on that beach.
Picking up one stone after another. A cool one. Another cool one. Another one. And another. Countless hours searching. Cool one. Another. Spring turned to summer. The summer would end. And then begin again. And soon the summers began to all run together.
Years later, the young man still spent endless days searching for the magic stone. Surely he had picked up millions of stones by now, and some...probably many times over.
So, instead of throwing stones on the beach, he began tossing them into the ocean. And, this became his new technique. Pick one up. Cool. Toss. Splash. Pick up another, cool, toss, splash. And another. And again. For years. For decades.
All his life.
Ultimately, the little boy started to look like that old man with a white beard he'd met on a beach so long ago...
Pick up a stone, cool, toss...
Pick up a stone, cool, toss...
Pick up a stone, cool, toss...
Pick up a stone, warm, toss...
Pick up a stone, cool, toss...
Oblivious...the old man kept walking down the beach. Tossing stones into the surf.
So skilled and practiced at sorting through and rejecting one stone after another, that even when the magic stone touched his hands, he lost it forever...casually tossing it to the sea.
- - -
So what's the lesson, son?
Don't toss the warm stone?? (giggling and blocking his armpits)
(He's learned that this answer prompts tickles.)
The secret is this...
Many people actually DO spend all their days searching for the magic stone...
- That book they'll someday write
- That career change
- That old friend they'll call
- That trip to Europe
- That club they'll join
- That business they'll launch
- That apology they'll make
- That legacy effort they'll begin...
All trapped in the false hopes that the conditions must first be exactly right. Unlimited time, resources, and energies finally arriving to magically burst into view.
Like glow in the dark stars when the lights go out.
You'll know because it'll be warm to the touch.
The magic stone is that wonderfully elusive grain of sand hidden somewhere in your future. And, if you're not careful, your entire life will be spent in the search for it.
I've got an hourglass in my home office. Mostly decoration, but I like the symbolism too.
Get moving. Be productive. Time is finite. Don't get stuck in the past. Avoid over-fantasizing the future. Live in the Now.
In that pinch-point of the middle. The present. Process each grain of sand as it comes.
1,389 grains of sand per second
83,000 per minute
5 Million per hour
Each and every one the magic stone.
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