Many years ago, two swans lived happily with their friend the turtle by a lovely pond.[1] One hot summer, the pond began to dry up. The swans feared that they might die of thirst, so they decided to fly away to find a more suitable pond. They tearfully bid farewell to their friend the turtle.
“Please don’t leave me!” begged the turtle. “I will surely die of thirst if I am left alone in this dried-up pond. Take me with you. Here is a strong stick that you can hold in your beaks and I will hang on to the middle with my mouth.”
The swans agreed, and together they took off in search of a new pond. As they flew over fields and rivers, the turtle wanted to comment on the many beautiful sights, but he kept his mouth tightly closed around the stick. But when they flew over a town, the turtle heard some of the townsfolk say, “Look at that silly flying turtle!” And he could not restrain himself.
“Hush, you foolish people! I’m not silly; leave me alone!” The turtle felt very proud of his retort—but only for a moment, because when he yelled, he let go of the stick and started falling to the ground. He landed on his back with a mighty thud, cracking his shell into many pieces.
Today, the turtle’s cracked shell is a reminder that our feelings are a terrible gauge for what we should say and when we should say it.
Originally posted on mouthpeaceconsulting.com.
[1] Adapted from Visnu Sarma, The Pancatantra, translated by Chandra Rajan (London: Penguin Classics, 2006), 132–33.