Early one Spring morning, wispy fog slipped across a small pond’s glassy surface. As the sun rose, there was a stillness in the air. A distant crow’s call echoed across the water, breaking the silence. A man and a little boy walked out to the pond together. The man reached down and picked up a small stone and threw it into the water.
Kerplop.
The splash stilled the crow’s call and caused rings to spread outward across the pond’s surface. Then the water stilled again. The father picked up a second stone and threw it into the water.
Kersplash.
Once again, rings moved outward until the water once again became glass.
The boy looked at his father with a quizzical look. “What are you doing, Dad?”
The father threw yet another stone and began to speak. “Each stone represents a dream of mine. Me throwing it is the effort I put into making my dream into a reality. The pond is the world around us. And the circles are how my dreams change it.”
The boy was smarter than his years. He looked at his dad and said bluntly, “But the pond goes back to how it was. How do your dreams change the world?”
The dad patted the little boy on the back. “You’ll see son. It will all become clear to you someday.”
The son picked up a rock and flung it as far as he could, too. More rings formed.
Days and years passed. The little boy joined his dad to throw rocks. And every day they’d go out into the world and work hard to make their dreams come true.
When the boy was 25, his father suddenly passed away. The morning of the funeral, it was just him. Angry at the world, he picked up the biggest rock he could find and heaved it into the water.
“DAMN YOU!” he cursed the pond. “My father’s dreams didn’t change the world and mine won’t either!”
But instead of the the usual “Kelsplash,” there was a more clacking sound — more like the sound of rock hitting rock. And there, seemingly on top of the water, sat the stone.
The son stared curiously at rock. He then picked up a second one and threw it. Crack. It sat next to the first one.
Year after year of throwing rocks into the pond had changed it after all. A little island began to form. Encouraged, the son continued to throw his rocks — now with greater intensity.
Day after day turned into year after year. The island grew and life began to form on it. A bird dropped an acorn on the rocky surface and a little oak began to take root. The son still threw rocks and was soon joined by his own son. Dreams flew into the sky and landed into the pond. The little tree slowly turned into a bigger tree and soon shaded the island beneath its limbs.
“Why are do we throw rocks, dad?” the grandson asked the son.
The father patted his son on the back and said, “The rocks are our dreams. Our throwing them represents our effort to make them come true. And the pond is the world around us.”
And at that moment, he found the answer to his own question. No one rock changed the pond. But by dreaming and working consistently every day over the years, he and his father had truly changed the world.
He smiled at the oak tree and picked up another stone and tossed it into the pond. And as he looked out at the little island, he understood his father’s wisdom: Dreams can change the world if you consistently throw enough of them.
