It was a quiet afternoon when the young man arrived at the old Master’s home, his eyes heavy with worry, his shoulders weighed down by invisible burdens.
“Master,” he sighed, “why does life have to hurt so much? Why can’t this pain just go away?”
The Master listened without interrupting, then slowly stood and motioned for the young man to follow. Without explanation, he handed him a handful of salt and a glass of clear water.
“Put it in,” the Master instructed. The young man did so, watching the grains dissolve, clouding the glass.
“Drink it,” the Master said.
The young man obeyed, but immediately grimaced. “Ugh… it’s awful!”
The Master only smiled, took another handful of salt, and began walking toward a shimmering lake nearby. The young man followed, curious. At the lake’s edge, the Master scattered the salt into the vast expanse of water.
“Now, drink from here,” he said.
The young man knelt, scooped up the cool water in his hands, and took a sip. The water was fresh, soothing.
“How does it taste?” asked the Master.
“Good,” replied the young man.
“Do you taste the salt?”
“No,” he shook his head.
The Master’s eyes softened as he sat beside him. “You see, my son, the pain of life is pure salt—no more, no less. Its amount doesn’t change. What changes is the size of the container you hold it in. When you keep your world small, like this glass, every grain of pain will overwhelm you. But when your heart and mind grow wide like this lake, the same salt—the same pain—becomes barely noticeable.”
The young man sat silently, the words sinking deeper than the salt ever could.
The Master continued gently, “So when life hands you sorrow, expand your world. Fill it with kindness, with gratitude, with love, with service to others. Stop being a glass… and become a lake.”
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