The temple was built on an island and it had a thousand bells. Bells big and small, fashioned by the finest craftsmen in the world. When the wind blew or a storm raged, all the bells would peal out in a symphony that would send the heart of the hearer into raptures.
Over the centuries the island sank into the ocean and, with it, the temple bells. An ancient legend said that the bells still rang out ceaselessly, and could be heard by anyone who would listen.
Inspired by the legend, a young man traveled thousands of miles, determined to hear those bells. He sat for days on the shore facing the vanished island and listened with all his might. But all he heard was the sound of the sea. He made every effort to block it out the intrusive noise, but to no avail; the sound of the sea seemed to flood the world.
He kept at his task for weeks. Each time he got disheartened he would listen to the village pundits as they spoke with awe of the mysterious legend. Then his heart would be inflamed again, only to become discouraged when weeks of further efforts yielded no results.
Finally he decided to give up the attempt. Perhaps he was not destined to listen to the bells. Perhaps the legend was not true. It was his final day, and he went to the shore to say goodbye to the sea and the sky and the wind and the coconut trees. He lay on the sand, and for the first time, instead of trying to ignore the sound of the sea he embraced it.
Soon he was lost in the sound of the lapping waves, rushing water, and profound stillness. Eventually the stillness overcame all other sound and he became immersed in silence so deep it took his breath away.
That’s when he first heard the tinkle of a tiny bell followed by another, and another, and another, until each and every of the one thousand temple bells were pealing out in glorious harmony.
He laid with his cheek on the infinitesimal grains of sand that are God’s blanket and cried tears of joy. His ecstasy was complete.