The Pearl and the Receipt
Excerpt: “He bought it to reorganize his life around what could not rot.”
A merchant spent his life buying trinkets that glittered from a distance. He carried receipts like trophies and called himself wealthy.
One day he saw a pearl in a window—quiet, plain, and so costly the price did not fit on the tag. He felt offended by it. “Who would pay that,” he muttered, “for something that doesn’t even shine?”
He went home and found that his shelves were full, but his hands were empty.
So he returned to the window and asked the seller, “What makes it worth this?”
The seller did not argue. He set the pearl on a cloth and poured water over it. The pearl did not brighten with noise; it brightened with truth. It reflected light it did not invent.
The merchant looked at his trinkets and, for the first time, saw dust.
He sold what kept him busy and bought the pearl. He did not buy it to boast. He bought it to reorganize his life around what could not rot.
He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.