Your boat upended and sank. You are alone. In the middle of a roiling sea. No shore in sight. The waves are a meter high. The storm is raging around you. You have been swimming for hours and hours. Your limbs are tired. Your body is heavy. You just want to give up. And let fate take you to the sea-bed.
And that's when you see it. Its a very thin stick of wood. All the logic in the world says, the stick will not hold your weight. Its too thin. Too small. No way is it gonna help you afloat. But its a support nevertheless. Something to hold on to. For a while at least. So you struggle to reach it. Wading through the shifting sea-scape, and the howling winds... You finally lay your hands upon it. You are too tired to swim any more. But the feel of that stick in your hand gives you hope. A support. This is "Faith"... Blind, illogical but hope-filled.
With the stick supporting you, you keep kicking, swimming to God know where... For God knows how long.
And finally, even to your own surprise, from between the high waves, you see the shore... Right there in front of you... This is "Hope". A promise of salvation. Who knows, you may never reach the shore? You might get caught in a rip-current which will drag you deep and drown you to death... Yet, you start kicking. Thinking of nothing else but the shore...
Suddenly there is a renewed vigour in your limbs. A new light in your heart. You kick faster than you ever kicked in your life. Cutting through the water, you finally reach the Shore... This is "Efforts". Pure result-bearing perseverance, will-power, sweat and blood.
So you reach the shore. and lie there for the longest time. Feeling the sand below you. A hard concrete reminder of the fact that you survived. And the waves intermittently touching your feet, a wet silent reminder of the ordeal you have just gone through.
And then you feel the stick in your hand. The stick that gave you, not support, but hope. To keep swimming, against all odds. Without even expecting to survive it all.
You carry the stick with you as you make your way inland. Holding on to it. For you now firmly believe that it was the stick that saved you. You make it your lucky talisman. You start believing that as long as the stick is with you, nothing will happen to you. This is "Superstition"... Blind, illogical and nothing more...
And that's when you see it. Its a very thin stick of wood. All the logic in the world says, the stick will not hold your weight. Its too thin. Too small. No way is it gonna help you afloat. But its a support nevertheless. Something to hold on to. For a while at least. So you struggle to reach it. Wading through the shifting sea-scape, and the howling winds... You finally lay your hands upon it. You are too tired to swim any more. But the feel of that stick in your hand gives you hope. A support. This is "Faith"... Blind, illogical but hope-filled.
With the stick supporting you, you keep kicking, swimming to God know where... For God knows how long.
And finally, even to your own surprise, from between the high waves, you see the shore... Right there in front of you... This is "Hope". A promise of salvation. Who knows, you may never reach the shore? You might get caught in a rip-current which will drag you deep and drown you to death... Yet, you start kicking. Thinking of nothing else but the shore...
Suddenly there is a renewed vigour in your limbs. A new light in your heart. You kick faster than you ever kicked in your life. Cutting through the water, you finally reach the Shore... This is "Efforts". Pure result-bearing perseverance, will-power, sweat and blood.
So you reach the shore. and lie there for the longest time. Feeling the sand below you. A hard concrete reminder of the fact that you survived. And the waves intermittently touching your feet, a wet silent reminder of the ordeal you have just gone through.
And then you feel the stick in your hand. The stick that gave you, not support, but hope. To keep swimming, against all odds. Without even expecting to survive it all.
You carry the stick with you as you make your way inland. Holding on to it. For you now firmly believe that it was the stick that saved you. You make it your lucky talisman. You start believing that as long as the stick is with you, nothing will happen to you. This is "Superstition"... Blind, illogical and nothing more...
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