I had a dream once. Of a father who purchased a plot of land for his family. There was a beautiful river, running through that plot, and the father wanted nothing more than to make his land perfect, by changing the flow of the river. “You cannot change the flow of the river” said his family, over and over.
Eventually, the man stopped talking about it. However, each afternoon he would take his children out to the river and meditate by the riverbank. Each afternoon after the session ended, the man and the children would each select a small pebble, and throw it into the river, as a means of casting away their issues and worries with the world.
Years went by, and the tradition remained.
The man grew old and died, his children had children of their own, and every afternoon his great grandchildren would take their little ones to the riverbank to think and cast stones.
Suddenly, one day, without anyone realising it, enough stones have been cast to change the flow of the river entirely.
I guess this is what I am doing, silently casting stones into a river.