They tell this story about a wise pilgrim: he was following a long road, under a dark stormy sky, down a valley in whose dip was a small field of ripe wheat. The well-defined field, among rough scrub and under that black sky, was a perfect square of brightness rippling gently in the wind. The pilgrim enjoyed the beautiful sight as he walked slowly along. Soon he met a peasant returning home with downcast eyes after a hard day’s work, accosted him and pressed his arm, murmuring in a heartfelt tone: ‘Thank you.’ The peasant recoiled slightly: ‘I have nothing to give you, poor man.’ The pilgrim
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