The Young-Stone Palm: A Tale of Resilience and Renewal
An old legend of the Sahara, retold as a fable by German author Pet Partish, tells the story—presented below and freely adapted for our reflections—of a palm tree that manages to transform a dramatic event into an opportunity for itself and others:
"Where the waves of the sea meet the desert, there is a place where, among the many palm trees that, with their slender beauty, resemble the figures of women, there stands one slightly apart. Its dark leaves barely touch the nearby trees. It is a truly unique palm tree! It appears stout, with a powerful trunk and strong fan-shaped leaves that stretch inward, toward its heart. In the spot where delicate light green shoots usually reach upward, there is an enormous reddish stone, like many others scattered across the beach.
'But how did that stone get there?'
It had happened many years earlier, when this mighty palm tree was just a tiny sapling. At that time, there were no houses or water sources in that place. Only a few palm trees lived on the beach, and alongside them, the small palm sapling thrived peacefully, nourished by what it could draw from the sandy soil and the rain, which, though rare, fell from the sky.
One day, however, a man arrived through the desert. He had wandered for days, losing all his belongings, and was nearly driven mad by thirst and heat. His hands were covered in inflamed wounds from digging futilely for water, and his entire being exuded unbearable pain.
He stood before the water—an immense, endless expanse of salty sea water. The man threw his dehydrated body into the water, but his cracked lips and parched tongue burned with a thirst that the water could not quench. Overcome with a furious rage at the nature that was killing him, he began looking around. He spotted the small green sapling growing vigorously among the debris and sand near the large palms.
With all the strength he had left, the man picked up a heavy stone and pressed it into the heart of the young tree’s crown. The sapling creaked and broke. It was as if the sound of that cracking and breaking amplified across the vastness of the desert and the sea. Then a terrible silence fell. The man collapsed near the little palm tree.
Two days later, camel herders found him, and it is said that he was saved. None of the herders, however, cared about the small palm tree so brutally damaged. It was almost buried under the weight of the stone, and its death seemed inevitable. Its light green fan-shaped leaves had broken and quickly rotted under the scorching sun. Its tender heart was crushed, and the heavy stone bore down on its delicate trunk, threatening to snap it with every breath of wind.
Yet, the man had not managed to destroy the little palm tree: he had gravely injured it, but he had not killed it."
The little tree tried to shake off the stone. It begged the wind for help. But no help came. The stone remained in its crown, lodged in its tender heart, immovable. The small palm’s efforts seemed futile; it was about to resign itself to its sad fate of dying so young when a voice within began to inspire it, urging it to resist, to accept the impossibility of freeing itself from the stone, and to focus its energy on finding another solution.
And so, the young tree stopped its frantic struggles and ceased wasting its strength trying to shake off the heavy stone. It held the stone firmly at the center of its crown and focused on anchoring itself deeply into the ground. Finally, the day came when its long roots reached deep enough to find a water source. A spring bubbled forth, turning that place into an oasis of well-being.
The little palm, now with solid footing in the earth and abundant nourishment, began to grow taller. It extended broad and strong fan-like branches around the stone, almost as if to protect it. Its trunk grew ever thicker; though the other palm trees on the beach might have been taller and more elegant, the tree soon known as "the Stone Palm" was without doubt the strongest.
The stone had challenged the palm, and the palm had endured its burden and won the struggle. It had uncovered a spring that has since quenched the thirst of many, and—most importantly—it had accepted the weight and carried it along. Outwardly, the heavy stone still seemed unbearable, but it was no longer so. Once accepted, it had become a part of the tree and had lost its negative dimension.
I believe there is no need to elaborate further for this fable to serve as an effective metaphor for our own journey of transforming constraints into opportunities and for how, at the same time, we must face life’s events with a positive outlook and a constructive attitude. This is succinctly captured by the American poet Thoreau: "I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation unless it was quite necessary."
With this perspective, let us embark on our internal journey, developing a network of pathways that will allow thoughts, memories, emotions, and sensations to interweave and communicate, activating connections and synapses—a topic extensively discussed in the first volume.
The Austrian philosopher Wittgenstein aptly remarks that "the thinker resembles the draftsman who wants to reproduce in their drawing all possible connections."
The logic behind the structure of the following chapters will be similar to that of the previous "Thoughts in Motion." That is, the author’s text will be in a standard style, while quotations, enclosed in quotation marks, will be italicized. Specifically, excerpts from various contributions by friends will feature brief concepts integrated into the text, while longer passages will appear in italics, with no attribution to individual names, to present the work as a wholly collective vision.
