The Parable of the Watermill

One day while teaching, Josh was asked, ”Teacher, now the days will be getting longer, how shall I fill them?"

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Josh spoke thus:

A workman was fixing a watermill.  A passerby stopped to watch.

“A watermill, eh?” the passerby said, “Is that some sort of artisanal thing?  Like locally sourced coffee beans and unleaded flour?”

“It’s so there’s a watermill,” the workman said.

“Everything old is new again, eh?” the passerby said, “Like solar sundials and retro umbrellas.”

The workman removed a wedge from the watermill.  The watermill began to turn.

“You could put that on a postcard, eh?” the passerby said, “Like a pastoral thing.  Like Wordspeare.”

“You mean Shakespeare?” the workman asked.

“Yeah, like Shakespeare,” the passerby said, “‘God Bless us, merry gentlemen,’ and all that.  Does that thing work?”

“Of course it works,” the workman said, “Look at it.”

“I mean does it make electricity,” the passerby said.

“It’s not that kind of mill,” the workman said.

“It’s not like those new windmills?” the passerby said, “Those things are huge.  Don Juan and Pancho Sanchez better not charge those windmills!”

“The mill turns a gear that spins a shaft that turns another gear that grinds grain,” the workman said.

“Grinds flour!” the passerby said, “Grist to the mill, eh?”

“That’s the idea,” the workman said.

“A millstone passing through the eye of a camel, eh?” the passerby said, “The wheel of life.  The Wheel of Fortune.  James Bond and martinis and Russian roulette.  You could make a clock.”

“I’m not sure it would be a very accurate clock,” the workman said, “The water flows slowly sometimes and faster at other times.”

“But that’s life, isn’t it?” the passerby said, “Ups and downs.  Winters and summers.  The wheels of the bus turn round, and all that.”

“The world runs on digital time  now,” the workman said, “Clocks are more accurate.”

“Oh, I don’t believe in accurate,” the passerby said, “I believe in going with the flow.  Sometimes the flow is faster, sometimes the flow is slower.  Life’s not accurate.  I’m not accurate.”

“So I noticed,” the workman said.