Once upon a time, there was a man on a path. For as long as he could remember, he was on this path, he often wondered why, but had no answer. While waking on this path, he came across a ditch. He couldn’t walk across it, and he had never jumped. Frustrated, he decided to camp there.
Every day, he’d go about his business, do everything he needed to do for his survival, and more, doing what he had always done. At night, he dreamt of jumping over this ditch.
Days turned into months, months into years and just like that, he had spent half his life in front of the said ditch.
Frustration finally set in, and he decided that he will jump. He thought that to live like he had been, was not living. To live, he needed to take this risk.
And so, one night, he prayed, he ate heartily and went to sleep early. Morning came, and he packed everything.
He couldn’t move when he picked up his bag, the weight was too much. But for his sanity, he knew he needed to jump. And so, the possessions that were how he defined his worth, his life, became a burden.
And he began to discard.
He repeated his ritual of eating, and sleeping early. He packed and he with all his heart, ran and jumped, easily leaping over the very small ditch.
He was amazed at what he had done, and disgusted that it had taken him so long. And so he walked on his path, admiring every single thing across this path. He fell in love with everything on this path, even the things he had seen before. He had new found appreciation. And he walked, on and on, as far as he could before he began to tire. And he walked for hours more, only to be stopped by another ditch.
He decided to jump it right then, without any rest or food, and as he jumped over the ditch, he had two thoughts. He realized that he could have walked around it rather easily, and that the ditch was far too big to jump, and he came crashing down; for he wasn’t invincible.
In his final thoughts, he realized that to risk was to live, but to risk stupidly, to risk without any preparation, was to ask for failure.