Sometimes the water has all kinds of stuff in it; leaves and sticks, slimy green stuff, dead bugs, live bugs. Sometimes it’s been baking in the summer sun all day, just a shallow layer at the bottom of my dish. It’s hot and murky, and smells funny, and has a loamy sort of flavor that leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
It’s worth is incalculable in comparison to having no water at all.
Like the water, we must take what life brings us and be satisfied with it.
We must drink the stale and leafy water in its time, and also when it is sparkling clear, freshly dispensed from the spigot, and cold as the well.
Wag more, bark less.