The Boy Who Drew a Well
Upon returning from a retreat I conducted, a woman told her 10-year-old son about me. He then said to her, “I want to meet the master!” |
A few months later, we met. I was expecting him to have much to say, but he just sat there quietly. After waiting for a while, I said, “Do you have anything to tell me?” |
He took deep breath and went, “Hhaihhhh….” |
I waited for him to say something after that, but he just sat there. I waited a while longer, then said, “If you have anything, just tell me.” |
He took another deep breath and went, “Hhaihhhh….” |
I waited and waited, and still nothing else came out of him. Obviously he came to see me for a reason, but he wasn’t saying it. So, what was I supposed to do? |
Then, I remembered something I happened to read about just about two weeks ago: art therapy. So, I gave him a piece of paper and a pen. (I wasn’t prepared with colouring stuff.) And I said, “Whatever you want to draw, just draw.” Then I left him alone. |
After a while, I went over and looked at what he drew. I wasn’t very sure what it was, so I asked him, “What is this?” |
“It’s a well.” |
Wow! He spoke! I asked further, “Is there any water in it?” |
“No. It’s dried up.” |
“Does this well represent you?” |
“I suppose so.” |
My heart sank a little, then I asked, “Are you thinking of dying?” |
He nodded. |
We then just sat there quietly. |
After some time, I asked, “Anything else you want to tell me?” |
“No more.” |
“Okay then.” |
Then he got up and left. |
Then, I took a deep breath and went, “Hhaihhhh….” |
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