"An elephant belonging to a travelling exhibition had been stabled near a town where no elephant had been seen before. Four curious citizens, hearing of the hidden wonder, went to see if they could get a preview of it. When they arrived at the stable they found that there was no light. The investigation therefore had to be carried out in the dark.
One, touching its trunk, thought that the creature must resemble a hosepipe; the second felt an ear and concluded that it was a fan. The third, feeling a leg, could liken it only to a living pillar; and when the fourth put his hand on its back he was convinced that it was some kind of throne. None could form the complete picture; and of the part which each felt, he could only refer to it in terms of things which he already knew. The result of the expedition was confusion. Each was sure that he was right, none of the other townspeople could understand what had happened, what the investigators had actually experienced."

"A merchant kept a bird in a cage. He was going to India, the land from which the bird came, and asked it whether he could bring anything back for it. The bird asked for its freedom, but was refused. So he asked the merchant to visit a jungle in India and announce his captivity to the free birds who were there.
The merchant did so, and no sooner had he spoken when a wild bird, just like his own, fell senseless out of a tree on to the ground.
The merchant thought that this must be a relative of his own bird, and felt sad that he should have caused this death.
When he got home, the bird asked him whether he had brought good news from India. 'No,' said the merchant, 'I fear that my news is bad. One of your relations collapsed and fell at my feet when I mentioned your captivity.'
As soon as these words were spoken the merchant's bird collapsed and fell to the bottom of the cage.
'The news of his kinsman's death has killed him, too,' thought the merchant. Sorrowfully he picked up the bird and put it on the window sill. At once the bird revived and flew to a near-by tree.
'Now you know,' the bird said, 'that what you thought was a disaster was in fact good news for me. And how the message, the suggestion of how to behave in order to free myself, was transmitted to me through you, my captor.' And he flew away, free at last."

"A stream, from its source in far-off mountains, passing through every kind and description of countryside, at last reached the sands of the desert. Just as it had crossed every other barrier, the stream tried to cross this one, but it found that as fast as it ran into the sand, its waters disappeared.
It was convinced, however, that its destiny was to cross this desert, and yet there was no way. Now a hidden voice, coming from the desert itself, whispered: 'The Wind crosses the desert, and so can the stream.'
The stream objected that it was dashing itself against the sand, and only getting absorbed: that the wind could fly, and this was why it could cross a desert.
‘By hurtling in your own accustomed way you cannot get across. You will either disappear or become a marsh. You must allow the wind to carry you over, to your destination.'
But how could this happen? 'By allowing yourself to be absorbed in the wind.'
This idea was not acceptable to the stream. After all, it had never been absorbed before. It did not want to lose its individuality. And, once having lost it, how was one to know that it could ever be regained?
'The wind', said the sand, 'performs this function. It takes up water, carries it over the desert, and then lets it fall again. Falling as rain, the water again becomes a river.'
'How can I know that this is true?'
'It is so, and if you do not believe it, you cannot become more than a quagmire, and even that could take many, many years; and it certainly is not the same as a stream.'
'But can I not remain the same stream that I am today?'
'You cannot in either case remain so,' the whisper said. ‘Your essential part is carried away and forms a stream again. You are called what you are even today because you do not know which part of you is the essential one.’
When he heard this, certain echoes began to arise in the thoughts of the stream. Dimly, he remembered a state in which he - or some part of him, was it? - had been held in the arms of a wind. He also remembered - or did he? - that this was the real thing, not necessarily the obvious thing, to do.
And the stream raised his vapour into the welcoming arms of the wind, which gently and easily bore it upwards and along, letting it fall softly as soon as they reached the roof of a mountain, many, many miles away. And because he had had his doubts, the stream was able to remember and record more strongly in his mind the details of the experience. He reflected, 'Yes, now I have learned my true identity.'
The stream was learning. But the sands whispered: 'We know, because we see it happen day after day: and because we, the sands, extend from the riverside all the way to the mountain.'
And that is why it is said that the way in which the Stream of Life is to continue on its journey is written in the Sands.