by Simon Hunt from the prologue: He knew that this would be our last meeting with him. He knew that in just a few short hours, he would be leaving us, and he too would be voyaging home. He knew that as the morning sun delivered its first rays, to dance warmly upon his weathered face, he would but only momentarily awaken, just long enough to greet the new day with his usual morning smile. He knew that in those few short moments he would joyfully bid farewell to this strange realm that he had come to love and cherish over the past seventy-two years of his life here. And he knew too, that there would be just a touch of sadness in his inner being; sadness at leaving it behind, never again to return. And he knew that his eyes, grown heavy and tired with age, would then ever so gently close for the very last time. And he knew what awaited him as he made the transition; he knew the process well. He had been through it so many times before in so many different lives. It would begin with a feeling of lightness; an exhilaration of ever expanding boundaries as the limits of the body were left behind. He would then be overcome with a clarity of vision, and knowledge that was beyond the realm of the physical body. And he knew that as his new eyes grew accustomed to the shimmering brightness of this new light, that he would see his old friend and dear teacher - who had gone ahead many years ago - waiting there to greet him and continue with the lessons. All of this he knew. And of this, we knew nothing. We sat, attentively waiting. It was the custom of The Master to sit in silence for a few moments before he began to teach. As he looked over the assembled students and disciples, pausing briefly to cherish each individual's inner being, he began to radiate a very joyful air. It did not take long. Soon we were all encompassed, feeling quite light, almost giddy. Such were the powers of the "Enlightened One", as the local villagers often called him. We were no longer solemn and somber seekers questing the arduous path to enlightenment. We were as little children, and the story hour was about to begin. "Tonight..." he said, with an almost mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "As has been our custom for many years, now..." he always spoke with many pauses. "You have come to sit and listen... and I to speak... ... Tonight... ... we will do the same." "But tonight... ... I will not speak to you... ... on such things as the nature of consciousness... ... or the discipline of thought... Not that these are unworthy subjects, mind you... ... But tonight... I will tell to you a story... ... It was told to me many, many years ago... by my beloved friend and teacher... ... when I was then sitting... where you are now..." He glanced up one more time, to see the Southern Cross shimmering in the now darkened sky, almost as if he were reassuring himself of his chosen direction. Satisfied, he then continued. "Tonight..." he said in a voice that was almost giggling. "I will tell you a story... ... ... about elephants." "Like Jonathan Livingston Seagull or The Little Prince, this is a simple story with a great depth of intent. A book to be understood on many levels. Simon's heart warming style presents delightful wisdom for children of all ages - be they six... or ninety six." Don't miss the
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