One day an otter was making his way up a stream when he chanced upon a very large fish who was too big for the otter to eat. The otter asked the fish for directions to a lake that fed the river. The fish didn’t know about the lake, having never visited it. But the two got to talking about their respective experiences in the world.

For his part the fish told the otter about the wonders of life on this stretch of the river. He described his swimming hole with its sandy bottom on one side and gravel bar on the other. He spoke of the rapids and the little eddies that formed as the current slipped and slowed around the large rocks. He told of the overhanging branches and the places where he used to hide and play as a minnow. He told of the best spot to find breakfast in the early morning when the grasshoppers slipped off the dew-soaked grass on the cut bank at the edge of the swimming hole.

The otter was curious about the fish’s world and asked many questions. It was a lively and engaging conversation, but it was repeatedly interrupted since the otter had to continually return to the surface to take a breath of air.

At this the fish felt a sense of superiority. He swam all day not needing to go to the surface to breathe. Moreover, he knew the river more intimately than the otter ever would. He was master of his realm and proud of it.

Then the conversation shifted and it was the otter’s turn to describe his experiences in the world. The otter told the fish that he and his friends lived down the stream where this river joined an even bigger one. He told the fish how he and his otter friends would run up a hill, turn, slide down a snowy bank, fly off a jump, soar through the air, splash into the water, turn somersaults beneath the surface, swim to the shore, and do it all over again. The otter’s voice was joyous as he spoke and his playful enthusiasm was contagious.

As the fish listened to the otter he could not help but feel envious of the otter’s ability to play in the multiple elements of dry land, snow, air, and water. And at this he felt a bit bothered. “If it’s so much fun to play with your friends why did you leave them?” asked the fish.

“I left because I met an osprey who told me about the fun she’d had at a large lake at the top of the river,” said the otter. “I’m going to look for it. Do you want to come with me?”

“No. I’ll stay here in the pool,” said the fish, thinking of the possible dangers along an unknown stretch of river.

“That’s what my friends said too,” replied the otter. “You sure you don’t want to come with me? Even if we don’t find the lake, the trip up the river is sure to be an adventure.”

“No thank you,” said the fish. “Why don’t you stay here? We can swim and play in the pool.”

“I want to explore the river and find the lake,” said the otter. “It was nice talking with you.”

And with that the otter headed up the river and the fish went back to swimming in the pool between the big rocks and the gravel bar. And each felt happy with the choice he’d made.

To me this story says much about how we approach our lives. The reality we experience is a reflection of the choices that we make. We can play it safe by remaining a big fish in a small pool. We can play joyously with our friends on what we consider to be our home turf. Or we can set out to explore new territories. No choice is right or wrong. Each suits the individual making it.

But are we like the otter and the fish? Or do we miss a fundamental opportunity to learn from one another by respecting and honoring that each of us is making the choice that suits us best? Perhaps with new knowledge or the challenge of new perspectives some us will change paths. However, to judge others because their paths are not the ones for us means that we miss opportunities to increase our knowledge through the shared experiences of others.

I’ve decided to live my life like the river otter. I’m no longer interested in the safety of known territory. While I enjoy playing with my friends on our home turf, I’m also eager to explore new ground. I’ll explore by myself if no one wants to come with me, but it’ll be more fun if you’d like to join me. That’s the choice that best suits me right now. How about you?