Dozens came. Some brought paintings of starlit
skies, quiet temples, and serene oceans. But in the end, only two pictures
truly captured the King’s attention.
The first was exactly what you'd expect.
A still, glassy lake nestled between
snow-capped mountains. The sky above was bright and blue, dotted with lazy
white clouds. Not a ripple disturbed the water. Not a sound could be imagined.
Everyone who saw it whispered, “This must
be the one.”
It was beautiful. Untouched. Perfect.
The second painting was… jarring.
Storm clouds churned in a wild, gray sky.
Jagged mountains clawed at the heavens. Rain lashed the rocks, and a waterfall
thundered down the cliff, roaring into the pool below. It was dramatic,
messy—chaotic, even.
Most turned away from it.
But the King stepped closer.
Amid the noise and spray, she sat calmly,
wings wrapped around her chicks, eyes half closed. Not disturbed. Not afraid.
Just…
present. And still.
The King chose this painting.
When asked why, he smiled gently and said:
“Because
real peace doesn’t mean everything around you is perfect and still. It means
finding stillness within yourself, even when the world is anything but. Peace
isn’t about escaping the storm—it’s about being the nest behind the waterfall.”
Reflection:
And maybe that’s something we can all learn
from.
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