There is a small, green island where one white cow lives alone–a meadow of an island.

The cow grazes till nightfall, full and fat.  But during the night she panics–and grows thin as a single hair.

What shall I eat tomorrow?  There’s nothing left!

By dawn, the grass has grown up again, waist-high.

The cow starts eating.  And by dark, the meadow is clipped short. 

She’s full of strength and energy.

But she panics in the darkness, as before, and grows abnormally thin overnight.

The cow does this over and over, for many years.  And this is all she does.

She never thinks, This meadow has never failed to grow back–why should I be afraid, every night, that it won’t?

The cow is the bodily soul.  The island field is this world–where that grows lean with fear, and fat with blessing, lean and fat.

White cow, don’t make yourself miserable with what’s to come, or not to come.


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