Once upon a time… as a lot of stories begin. There was a elephant keeper who lived in a beautiful sanctuary on the outskirts of a town near a city in a country where elephants once roamed free.

One day the elephant said to its keeper, “I wish for you to take me into the city.”

The elephant keeper said, “Why do you wish for me to take you to the city?”

“Because,” said the elephant. “In the city there is a king that calls to me. There are certain blind men in his court who have never seen an elephant, yet they dispute with each other whether or not such a thing as an elephant exists. The king prays for the presence of an elephant in order to lay to rest the disputations of his ministers.”

So the elephant and his keeper traveled to the city, where they presented themselves at the court of the king. The king was overjoyed to receive such distinguished visitors and made haste to provide accommodation. He threw a banquet in honor of the elephant and invited the council of blind ministers to attend.

“Gentlemen,’ The king said, “Reach out your hands and behold the elephant, that your disputations as to the existence of such a creature may be laid to rest.”

Each of the ministers approached the elephant and stretched out their hand to touch it. They marveled at the wonder of the beast. They had doubted the tales of its existence and had long since discounted the authenticity of such accounts. As the excitement over the discovery of the truth of the elephant existence took hold, a great clamor arose. The ministers no longer disputed with the king with regard to the truth of the elephant’s existence, but rather began to dispute among themselves with regard to its very nature. Disputation became argumentation, arguments gave way to refutations, and refutation gave way to heated battles between the ministers who abandoned their hold of the elephant altogether, and began to engage in mudslinging and fisticuffs, and duels to the death over the validity of one perception over another.

When it became apparent that his blind ministers had no intention to end their disputations, the king rose from his throne. “Silence!” He called out, in his most authoritative voice and, with a mighty bang of his staff against the floor, called the whole room to attention. One by one he called the ministers forward and asked them. ‘Well, blind man, have you seen the elephant? Tell me, what sort of thing is an elephant?’

Each of the ministers in turn came forward to make his answer before the king. And one by one the king heard the most fantastic tales of elephants who appear to men as snakes, and ropes, and fans, and tree trunks, as mighty walls, and sharpened spears. Until at last one among them arose who had held back listening to the accounts of his brother ministers until the last of them had rendered his accounting and it was his turn. This minister was different and much wiser than the rest, because while it was in his nature to be skeptical, he kept an open mind.

When the king asked him. ‘Well, blind man, have you seen the elephant?”

This minister replied. “I have not seen the elephant, Oh Great King, for such a beast cannot appear to the eyes of someone like me who is blind. Never the less, the elephant has manifested itself to me in a form that is undeniable.”

“Tell me, blind minister,” the king commanded. “What sort of thing have you perceived an elephant to be?”

“As I listened to the voices of my fellow ministers contending with one another over their observations of the nature of the elephant, I became curious. Each one was so unapologetically sure of the absolute truth of his experience, that he never once questioned whether or not his perception was complete. While the others were busy contenting with each other over the validity of their observations, I took a moment to expand my exploration only to discover that what I perceived as a rope was attached to a wall that was resting upon four pillars, round as tree trunks.

As I explored further, something very serpent-like reached out and wrapped itself around my arm. At first I was alarmed thinking that the serpent was to be something different entirely, and not part of the elephant. However, on further exploration I was happy to discover that this ‘serpent’ lived upon the wall and while not dangerous, possessed long fangs that are spear-like, eyes with lashes, and had great wings on either side of its head.

But this is not all, Great King…”

The king was intrigued… “Please continue” He said.

“As I leaned against the wall in meditative contemplation, in order to form a coherent vision in my mind of this fearsome creature,” the minister continued. “I beheld the thump thump thump of its heartbeat, and realized that somewhere in this creature lies a soul. I therefore surmise that what each of us experienced individually are thus parts of the same thing, and thus absolute reality is, by its definition, incomplete. The elephant is no more the sum of its parts, as it is the division of his parts. All reality is one, though we speak of it through the filter of our own perceptions, and it is only through the amalgamation of all perceptions that we can hope to come to an understanding of that power that unites us all.”

“Very good, my true and faithful minister,” Said the king. “Today you have judged aright. Come forth and sit at my right hand and you will be given the key to my kingdom. For the key to the kingdom is not power and knowledge, but wisdom and humility.”

And thus concludes my parable of the Elephant’s Banquet.
Pamela J Bradford, aka Almoustine (The Elephant’s Banquet, 2018)
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Reality is one, though wise men speak of it variously – The Rigveda (1500-1200 BCE)

“etaddhasti darshana iva jatyandhah” – Adi Shankara. (In our perception of truth we are as people blind from birth perceiving an elephant.)

Image courtesy of A Bear’s Rant.
http://abearsrant.com