Stones and Pebbles

Being a former chemistry teacher, I used demonstrations to teach and inspire imaginations.  During one of four regional flights in India, I read a description of one such demo I found in a magazine.  The problem is that—unlike a real professional—
I didn’t write down the name of the professor who created the demonstration.  I’d like to describe it for you anyway.  I just hope he will forgive my inadvertent plagiarism.

Imagine a large canning jar with a wide lid that screws down tight.  I’m going to take the lid off and add stones.  As one of the stones slides off the top, I’ll ask, “Is the jar full?”

I expect the class to say, “Yes.”

But I am able to add several smaller pebbles, so I ask if the jar is full now?

The class will again say, “Yes.”

From under the demonstration table, I’ll fetch a bag of sand.   I pour it on top of all the rocks.  With sand sliding over the side all over the table, I say, “Is the jar full yet?”

Though suspicious, they might say, “Yes, definitely yes.”

From my water pitcher, I pour myself a fresh glass of water and then add it to the stones and sand.  I let them stare at the canning jar for a long moment.

This jar represents my life.  The largest stones are the most important things.  For example, my heath matters a great deal to me.  I value being mobile even though arthritis threatens my freedom.  My family is also special.  My husband likes to take pictures of wildlife, but he doesn’t like to travel alone.  I like to sit in front of my laptop at a café, but I will fly away with him whenever he is ready to go.

Of slightly lesser importance are the pebbles.  My pebbles involve creativity.  I love to write stories and poetry, and when I take a picture, the zebra stripes are likely to go every which way.

Sand is not as important as rocks.  For me, doing laundry is a grain of sand and so is re-organizing my nests, a constant battle with entropy.  I’m old fashioned and use computers as separate tools—one for photographs, another for my blog, and my laptop for writing.  Each device is at the center of a nest.  (My problem is that I can’t figure out if this blog is a pebble or sand.)

Finally comes the trivial, those minuscule molecules of water.  For me, the most minuscule thing that fills too many hours of my days is playing solitaire games on my i-Pad (my fourth computer).

The point is to spend a proportional amount time on each task relative according to the level of its importance: Stone, Pebble, Sand, or Water.  (I’m off to play Free Cell now that I’ve finished this post?)

Namaste  

Plains Zebra, photo by Jan Haffley