In my dream, the old man approached me, not saying a word. I turned with him, and we walked down a long dusty road.

I became aware of people on my right, toiling endlessly in a field. We stopped and I looked at them. There were no smiles on any face, no happiness or joy. For they had a never ending task, removing rocks from the field so they could sow their seed. But it seemed that for every rock that was removed, another rock needed to be moved.

As I was going to ask the old man the meaning of this scene, he again began to move and I stepped back into pace with him.

Before long, I saw people on my left, and again stopped. These people were not dressed in the dirty, ragged clothing of the people in the last field. These were dressed in expensive suits and dresses. Each had fists full of money. But their faces were drawn and sad. Then I saw the other people, grovelling at the feet of the opulent ones. Each of those well dressed people would stoop to grudgingly give a few dollars to one or another of the people at their feet, and each time, a very pained expression would cross the face of the rich person.

Again, I had no chance to ask a question, for we once again were walking.

The next field we came to was the worse of all. There were a multitude of people, pressed close together. Some of them seemed to be milling about without any clear purpose at all. Still others sat or stood, looking at nothing, their faces blank. I saw one of them laugh briefly, but the sound was hollow. I saw another try to hide beneath a big box, but that didn't work, because there were already people there. Then I saw to one side of the scene, a great blackness that seemed darker than the darkest night. Any person getting too close to the darkness seemed to get sucked into it, vanishing, never to be seen again. Only at the last moment did the blankness of their faces change, and the change was to a look of despair.

I shuddered, glad to be once again on our way, and feeling a cold feeling down my spine.

I found myself frozen in my tracks when I saw the last field. It was so beautiful that it was breath taking. Everything was lush and vibrant, full of life. There were beautiful flowers everywhere and butterflies flickered between blossoms. I'd never seen so many butterflies - every imaginable colors and sizes. They were such beautiful butterflies. There were people here, too, but they were totally different than any of the others I'd seen. Each was smiling and relaxed. Couples walked hand in hand, unhurried, often stopping to look at a beautiful sight, or to exchange pleasantries with someone else. No one seemed to be toiling, and there was no trouble to be seen. The feeling of happiness and joy and wonder was so strong that it was almost physical. I watched them carefully for some time.

One man walking down a path came to a large tree branch, barring his way. He studied it for a time. The branch was too low to the ground to crawl beneath, and too large to climb over. There were thick trees on either side of the trail, so no way to move around it. After some thought, the man pushed against the branch, and finding that it was moveable, pushed it just enough out of the way to be able to slip by.

In another part of the scene, a couple was walking along and they came to a person who had apparently fallen beside the trail they walked. Rather than passing by, they stopped, helping that person to their feet, brushing him off. They exchanged a few words, and finally walked on, at the same unhurried pace.

At last, the old man turned to me, waiting for me to ask my questions.

"I don't understand what it means," I said.

He smiled and in a rich voice said, "What do you not understand, my son?"

"Well, those people in the first field. They struggled so, but they got nowhere. The harder they worked, the more work was to be done!"

He nodded and said, "Yes. They are people who have let their tasks overwhelm them, concentrating on the tasks until nothing else mattered, until all they could see is the obstacles in their way. They have not learned that removing obstacles for no real reason only invites more to take their place."

"And the people in the second field? What of they?" asked I. "They seemed well enough, and they clearly had money, more than they could spend. Yet there were people grovelling, and the rich ones seemed hurt each time they gave of that wealth."

The old man smiled, but the smile held great sadness.

"They are the ones who set high goals and achieved them, but at the exclusion of all else, until gathering wealth was all they could think of. For them, each time they have had to or needed to give to those less fortunate, it indeed does hurt, because the wealth is their life and all that they care about. They do not see the opportunity, but can only see the pain of responsibility."

"And what of the field with the multitude?" I inquired.

The old man shook his head, sadly.

"They are the saddest of all, for each is consumed with the soul killer; apathy. They have lost their will. They strive for nothing, and they receive...nothing. They do not set goals, and they do not achieve goals. They cannot find happiness nor love, for apathy will consume both, leaving nothing behind."

"And the blackness?" I prompted.

"Apathy is existence, nothing more. At one end, which is where they all started, is a world of countless opportunities. At the other end is the void. Apathy gives way to despair, and despair swallows even hope. Without hope, there isn't even existence. The blackness is at the other end of despair."

"And what of this beautiful field?" I asked.

The old man's face brightened, and his face shown like the sun.

"These are the people who know the truth. They do not toil for no reason. If they come upon an obstacle in their way, they move around or over or under it. Only when they have no choice will they move the obstacle, and even then, just enough for them to move beyond it. The obstacle is soon forgotten.

They are not consumed by material wealth, and seek only what is needed for happiness and comfort. It doesn't pain them to help another person in need, and they feel joy in the action, because they've made a difference in someone elses life.

They have each fought the battle of apathy and have won. Because there is no apathy, they can love, feel joy, and revel in the moment. There is no hurry, for it is all here, all the time, and they know that they only need to enjoy it all.

You said that you didn't understand the meaning of it all. My son, this is life. As you walk down the road of life, their will be obstacles in your way. Pass by them; they are not the goal of life. Do not be swayed with the drive and the need to gain material wealth. Wealth will cause more pain than comfort. But more importantly than anything else, always care. Do not join the multitude of uncaring souls consumed by apathy. Apathy will take your soul and leave you nothing in return.

Realize always that you can't speed things up. All things happen in the fullness of time. And if you keep your feet planted firmly on the path, you will one day reach this wonderful place you see before you. There are no shortcuts, and there are no signposts to guide your way. But the roadmap is written in your heart. If you follow it, you will not stray."

As he finished speaking, the old man started to step into the beautiful field before us.

"Are you leaving me, Grandfather?" I asked, suddenly understanding who he was. The great one turned and looked at me, smiling.

"You may leave me, but I'll never leave you," he said. "I'll always be with you, and when you talk, I will listen. When you look at the beauty around you, you will see that I have been there. And when you have gone through life and reach this place, I will be waiting for you."

With that, the old man vanished, as did the road and the field. But as I opened my eyes and looked out the window, my heart soared. Beside the window, struggling against the cold of late winter, was a single rose. And beside the rose, a butterfly.

This is a beautiful and meaningful story.

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