The Stonecutter’s Dream

Long ago, in a quiet village at the base of a mountain, there lived a simple stonecutter named Arman. Each day, he worked with his hands, shaping heavy rocks into blocks for houses and temples. His life was hard, his clothes plain, his meals modest. Yet, he carried on with quiet strength.

But deep inside, Arman often wished for more.

One summer afternoon, while carrying stones up a hill, he paused to rest beneath a tree. From there, he saw the governor of the land riding past on a grand horse, dressed in silk and guarded by soldiers. People bowed low as he passed, their voices filled with respect and fear.

Arman sighed. “If only I could be the governor. Then I would be powerful. Then I would be respected.”

To his astonishment, a voice answered—a whisper in the wind. “Your wish is granted.”

In an instant, Arman was no longer a stonecutter. He sat tall on a horse, cloaked in silk, soldiers at his side. People bowed as he passed. Power coursed through him, and for a time, he was content.

But then, the summer sun blazed hot overhead. Sweat trickled down his neck, and he saw the farmers wilt under the burning heat. Even he, the mighty governor, could not command the sun.

Arman frowned. “The sun is greater than the governor. If only I could be the sun.”

Again, the whisper came: “Your wish is granted.”

And suddenly, Arman was the sun itself. He shone brightly, pouring golden light over fields and rivers. He felt mighty as people shielded their eyes from his brilliance. But then he noticed a cloud drifting by. With ease, it blocked his rays, shading the land below.

Arman sighed. “The cloud is greater than the sun. If only I could be the cloud.”

“Your wish is granted.”

Now he was a great cloud, heavy and vast, pouring rain upon the earth. Rivers swelled, crops drank deeply, and people rejoiced. He felt powerful—until the wind rose. With invisible hands, it pushed him across the sky, scattering his form like dust.

“The wind is greater than the cloud,” he thought. “If only I could be the wind.”

And so it was. He became the wind, fierce and free, rushing over valleys and mountains, bending trees and shaking rooftops. Nothing could stop him—except the mountain. No matter how hard he blew, the mountain stood firm, unmoved, eternal.

Arman stared at the towering rock. “The mountain is greater than the wind. If only I could be the mountain.”

Once again, the whisper answered.

He became a mountain, tall and immovable, his peaks lost in the clouds. He felt unshakable, eternal at last. But then, he felt a sharp sting at his side. And another. Tiny blows, steady and determined. He looked down—and there was a stonecutter, hammering away at his rock, carving pieces from his mighty form.

Arman gasped. “The stonecutter… is greater than the mountain.”

In that moment, he understood. All his wishing, all his chasing of power and greatness, had brought him full circle. The life he had once seen as small was not weakness at all. The stonecutter had strength, patience, and purpose.

“I want to be myself again,” Arman whispered.

The voice returned one final time: “Your wish is granted.”

And so, Arman found himself once more at the base of the mountain, chisel in hand, shaping stone under the warm sun. His clothes were still plain, his meal still simple—but his heart was full of peace. For he no longer wished to be anyone else. He had discovered the truth: greatness is not in becoming more than others, but in embracing who you are with all your strength.

From that day forward, Arman worked with joy. And though his life was ordinary, his spirit was extraordinary—for he carried within him the wisdom of the sun, the cloud, the wind, the mountain, and most of all, himself.

💡 Life Lesson:

The grass will always look greener elsewhere, but chasing what others have will never bring peace. True power comes from embracing yourself, your path, and your purpose. You don’t need to be the sun, the wind, or the mountain—you only need to be the best version of you.