I sat with my daughter on the beach, gathering together millions of pieces of sand so that together they could form a magnificent castle.
The beach was beginning to be deserted, with swimmers, sunbathers and the rest making their evening trek back to solid ground.
A mother walked by with her young son. Spotting a great big hole in the ground, the boy began to run toward it. The hole, clearly a long day’s work for a child that afternoon, was abandoned for the night, ready to be molded into a fresh canvas at high tide.
The mother stopped the boy, yelling, “No, my son, that isn’t yours!”
The two continued on their way, the hole untouched and waiting for the water.
How strange! Who owns the beach but its creator? More so, how can anyone claim rights to a hole? By its very nature it is emptiness.
Can one own that which does not exist?