Patience and Practice

There was a rope dancer who would walk on the rope with eyes blindfolded, with wooden clogs on his feet, a water jug on his head and holding four things in his hands. He would walk forward on the rope making creaking sounds with his feet, and return again, then suddenly he would throw himself down, hold the rope with his feet and under his armpits, then hang himself by a single finger, and then jump back onto the rope again.

Meanwhile, his overweight friend kept falling. He would keep shouting at him while he was on the rope, “I’ve brought you here in the name of . . . such and such a teacher,” and begin to weep. Then quickly people would gather the balancing rods and offer advice.

They practiced tightrope walking at the seashore, so if they fell off the rope they would fall into the water. In this way, after long practice, people become master tightrope walkers, and then they practice on land. Gradually they raise their rope higher and learn about the best ways to stand and walk on it. Just as patience is needed for the crescent moon to become full, for the rain on the rocks to turn them to rubies, and for the drops that rain onto the sea to turn into pearls, they also would become expert tightrope walkers through patience and practice.

With time, unripe grapes can become halvah.