THE LITTLE FISH

“Excuse me,” said an ocean fish, “You are older than I so can you tell me where to
find this thing they call the Ocean?”
“The Ocean,” said the older fish, “is the thing you are in now,”
“Oh, this? But this is water. What I’m seeking is the Ocean,” said the disappointed
fish as he swam away to search elsewhere.
He came to the Master in sannyasi robes. And he spoke sannyasi language: “For years
I have been seeking God. I have sought Him everywhere that He is said to be: on
mountain peaks, the vastness of the desert, and the silence of the cloister and the
dwellings of the poor.”
 “Have you found him?” the Master asked. “No. I have not. Have you?”
What could the Master say? The evening sun was sending shafts of golden light into
the room. Hun-dreds of sparrows were twittering on a banyan tree. In the distance one
could hear the sound of highway traffic. A mosquito droned a warning that it was going
to strike... And yet this man could sit there and say he had not found Him.
After a white he left, disappointed, to search elsewhere.
Stop searching, little fish. There isn’t anything to look for. All you have to do is look.