To Fill a Glass

This room is pitch black. The darkest place I’ve ever witnessed and had it not been for the glass of water sitting in front of me, lit from underneath, I wouldn’t have known whether my eyes were shut or not. The glass of water is 65% full, topped off with 4 ping pong balls that sit comfortably on top of the liquid and on top of each other. You see, I was given a task an hour ago.

“Fill this glass with as much water and ping pong balls as you can,” said the low distorted voice coming from some type of intercom place high in the ceilings; who minutes before explained to me why it came to be that I was sitting in this dark, still room. Immediate after his demand, three spot lights from a table position in front of me lit up, presenting a jug of water, a bucket of ping pongs and, in the middle of both, an empty drinking glass.

I would like to tell you that I did not question his commands but that would be a lie. I would also like to tell you that I did not leave my chair and that I did not run into the darkness only to reappear in the very spot I so dearly wish not to be in; but once again, that would be a lie. Confused and desperate, I sit down and begin to pour. The more water I poured, the more ping pongs would fall off the brim of the glass. The more ping pongs I place in the glass the more water would spill. And so it was, the struggle. On and on I went until now. 65% water and 4 ping pongs.

“Are you done?” The powerful voice asked.

I nodded.

“And so it is,” it begins. A violent earth quake like phenomenon that shatters the glass and blows the ping pongs everywhere, my chair and I included, “Let the water be your identity and the ping pongs be your relationships and all that is will be as it has played out here today. The more you invest in one, the further the other slips away.”

As the voice fades off, I’m thrown ever so gently for what seems to be hours and awake on a rainy evening on my front lawn.