“When you pour out your strength to help, there must be a result, whether you can see it or not.”
                -J. Krishnamurti, At The Feet of the Master

        How wonderful would it be to believe that? Here’s my image: I see a man pouring the water that is his love into the world, but he’s standing in a desert and the water seeps away through the sand. After a few minutes, the sand isn’t even wet anymore. There is no sign of what he’s done. But Krishnamurti insists that he has done something: your “strength to help” has a result. It must, just like fire must warm and water must run downhill. The water you poured out travels somewhere beneath the sand. There are roots. There are seeds. Sooner or later, somewhere, what you have done will help them.
        I often find it hard to believe that. I often feel like I haven’t done enough, or that what I’ve done wasn’t clever enough, so it won’t have an effect. And then Krishnamurti stands and smiles, somewhere just beyond the light of the little campfire I’ve made, and whispers there is something there, “whether you can see it or not.”
        Sometimes, when I feel as though others don’t care or notice that I’m working, when I feel the grinding pain of telling myself I haven’t done enough, Krishnamurti’s thought can wash away that hurt. It is easier to work, then, and sweat, and rest for a while, and smile. The water that evaporates, that seems to disappear, is moisture somewhere, and somewhere it falls as rain.