Impulses

Once, in a Chinese village, there lived a dog who led his simple, contented dog's life. Then one day he heard a stranger telling a story — a story about a temple that lay behind seven mountains. The temple, the stranger said, was of magical beauty and stillness. But what made it truly extraordinary were the thousand mirrors lining the walls of its great hall.

The little dog was so captivated that he resolved to find this temple. And so he set out. It would prove a hard road — through thickets, over rocks, across rivers. He wandered through the heat of the day and shivered himself to sleep in the cold of night. Exhausted, weary, and hungry, he climbed one more hill — and there, there lay the temple, majestic in its beauty. The dog ran toward it, straight into the great hall, grinning from ear to ear, spinning round and round in delight — and from every single mirror, a joyful dog's face laughed back at him.

Filled with the wonder of it, he made his way home, already looking forward to telling his story. The villagers rejoiced with him — all but the neighbor's dog, a big, surly fellow. He envied the traveler his experience and decided he, too, would seek out the temple. The march was grueling. It seemed far more exhausting than the little dog had let on. Several times he wanted to give up and turn back, but his pride wouldn't allow it. At last he reached the temple. This was what he'd endured all that hardship for — this ordinary old temple? Perhaps the inside would make up for it. Sullen, he stepped into the hall, saw the thousand mirrors, turned slowly in a circle — and from every single mirror, a sullen, ill-tempered dog scowled back at him.