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THE FAIBLE OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT

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The Fable of the White Elephant

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Many many years ago, or perhaps it was days, since time and space haven’t the same values inthe fable realm, there was a group of elephants, composed of those which were different in colorand lineage, who left the herd in search of

“White Elephants”


who left the herd in search of the “White Elephants”, so loved by

"Siddharta"

that the Indians have erected as a sacred symbol of God

 

The legend, whispered to us by our grandparents, that in the nights of the full moon, says that in a faraway village of the Far Orient, in the foothills of the Himalay, and there is a valley where certain

"White Elephants"

had arrived to ‘perfection’: wisdom and illumination; it is said that their hides became so pure as to be immersed with a particular luminosity;

 

in the nights of the full moon the white light of the Moon is reflected


Many were the elephants engaged in this research, alone or in groups, they were trying to meet them also to understand, learn how it was possible to change the hue of their individual hides. But, since nobody had ever returned, having achieved that radiant state, and there remained, in the herd of those wise elephants in the enchanted valley.


It would seem that one of these had returned


 

having achieved that radiant state, and there remained, in the herd of those wise elephants in the enchanted valley


ust and dirt cover him hiding his true nature.


.He lived in a gully of the Alps, between Italy and Switzerland, and like the Hermann Hesse character is called LEO.



- Hermann Hesse: pilgrimage toward the Orient


Many are the elephants who set out to find the enchanted valley, and the last white elephant of which they, by now, had lost trace.

The group looses some one every day, ever more tired and discouraged in the search, seemingly useless, while some others continue to linger in the valley in the nights of the full moon, hoping always that in the precise moment

and only for an instant in a brief space of the sky an arch of light would appear, which on the morrow at dawn, on the roofs of the houses and the enchanted valley there appear a beautiful rainbow, and one would hear the cock crow and the whimper of a new-born baby

"The pilgrimage toward the Orient... continue..."


Giovanni Salvati

heart to heart

A man cannot change the world
but he can spread a
message
that can change the world


 

THE FAIRYTALE OF THE WHITE ELEPHANT


Many many years ago, or perhaps it was days, since time and space haven’t the same values in the fable realm: there was a group of elephants, composed of those which were different in color and lineage, who left the herd in search of the “white elephants”. The legend, whispered to us by our grandparents, that in the nights of the full moon, says that in a faraway village of the Far Orient, in the foothills of the Himalay, and there is a valley where certain White Elephants had arrived to ‘perfection’: wisdom and illumination; it is said that their hides became so pure as to be immersed with a particular luminosity; in the nights of the full moon the white light of the Moon is reflected. Many were the elephants engaged in this research, alone or in groups, they were trying to meet them also to understand, learn how it was possible to change the hue of their individual hides. But, since nobody had ever returned, having achieved that radiant state, and there remained, in the herd of those wise elephants in the enchanted valley. It would seem that one of these had returned, but with the years, he had lost the candor which one day had transformed his tough hide. Dust and dirt cover him hiding his true nature. He lived in a gully of the Alps, between Italy and Switzerland, and like the Hermann Hesse character is called LEO.Many are the elephants who set out to find the enchanted valley, and the last white elephant of which they, by now, had lost trace. The group looses some one every day, ever more tired and discouraged in the search, seemingly useless, while some others continue to linger in the valley in the nights of the full moon, hoping always that in the precise moment, and only for an instant in a brief space of the sky an arch of light would appear, which on the morrow at dawn, on the roofs of the houses and the enchanted valley there appear a beautiful rainbow, and one would hear the cock crow and the whimper of a new-born baby


The pilgrimage toward the Orient... continue

 

A v v . Gi o v a n n i S a lv a tiMi l a n - I t al y

 

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