I heard a story once that I couldn't get out of my head. It dealt with a man, a boy and a flower. I don't think that I can remember the whole epic, but the jest was that the boy rampaged through the world, killing all the little things because they were smaller than him. He ate everything because it made him feel better and he played too rough because he was bigger than the rest.

One day, the boy ran into the old man and as the old man watched the boys daily excursion, he would simply shake his head in disbelief. He let the boy go about his daily business until finally the boy walked up and asked, "If you dislike what I do, why don't you try to stop me?"
The old man sat on the grass and beckoned the boy to sit with him. As the boy obeyed, he said, "I used to have a son just like you. He cared for none and he loved mischief."
The old man looked around and found moist dirt. He handed it to the boy and continued, "Let this moist dirt represent our world." The old man closed the boys hand over the dirt and smiled. The boy did not get the meaning, so he blew the dirt away and ran off.

The next day the boy returned to his daily dose of mischief and ran into the old man again who simply shuck his head. The boy again asked the old man, "If you dislike what I do, why don't you try to stop me?"
The old man sat down and beckoned the boy to do the same, but this time he plucked fire from a nearby campfire and gave it to the boy and closed his hand over the flame. He said again, "Let this flame represent our world." Again, the boy did not understand the meaning so he stood up and went on his merry way.

On the third day the boy went directly to the old man and harshly asked, "Will you try to stop me this time with your silly Babel, old man?"
The old man sat but this time the boy did not heed the old man's request for him to sit. The old man poured out a drop of water and said, "Let this drop represent the world." The boy ran off and watched flame dance on his hand with no pain.

On the fourth day, the boy returned and whispered, "What shall I learn to day?" The old man plucked air from around him and said, "This air represents our world", and walked away.

The final day was the most beautiful of all the previous days. The sky was blue, the water clear, the grass greener than ever and the animals just a little friendlier. The boy returned and the old man asked, "Are you ready to understand." There came no reply from the boy. The old man laughed and placed his hand on the boys heart and said, "Let this spirit represent our world." The boy shed a tear as he understood what the old man was trying to say.

Like I said, I would not be able to remember the story I heard about the old man and the boy. What I do remember is that before there is life, there must be spirit. Before there is spirit, there must be rain, sunshine, wind and soil, and before we can live, we must first understand our place, as pupils.