The Nightingale Center

A Thanksgiving Parable for You and Your Family

The Town Counter by Lois V. Nightingale, Ph.D.

Once before time as we know it, stories were woven that created reality, space, and the beautiful tapestry we call life. One such story tells of the day the town counter began counting blessings, and how her life changed forever.

As it is told, the town counter, who was very serious, took note of most everything that went on in the town. Not only did she notice, but she also counted what she saw. She knew how many steps it took to climb to the market in the center of town and how many people were sick at any given time. She knew how often people were late for appointments and how long she had to wait for them. All of these details and more were kept in her mind by ruminating about them over and over. One could see by the look on her face that she concentrated very hard.

The problem was, the only time anyone wanted to talk with her was when someone was looking to find fault with a potential purchase and wanted to negotiate a better deal with the current owner. Only when disgruntled buyers were eager for a bargain were her conclusions sought. Any other time people noticeably avoided contact with her.

Cheerfully chatting people walking along the road through town would go out of their way to pass her on the opposite side of the road. For everyone knew if they got too close she might take up walking along side and discussing every one of her tallied observationsin detail.

As she became more isolated and ostracized, her sadness and loneliness grew. She began counting how many people went out of their way to avoid conversation with her or averted their eyes as she neared. As the numbers grew, she felt more and more miserable. So one day she decided to visit a wise old apple tree that was known for giving useful advice.

"I can't believe I am not appreciated," she began, as she stared up through the empty branches. "I have the ability to keep track of more information than anyone else in the village, and all they do is avoid me! In the last two days, climbing the 56 steps to the market, which has twenty merchants who use unfairly calibrated scales, I saw 13 people move to the far side of the road to avoid talking to me!" her brow furrowed deeper as she spoke. "Ten of these people actually complained about me under their breath and of the four people I had appointments with, three were late. All together I have had to wait a total of 3 hours for inconsiderate people! I think this is all intolerable!" she exclaimed.

The wise old tree took time to reply. "Come talk to me again when you know how many wild flowers grow in the cracks of the steps leading to the market, and how many merchants give customers 'just a little extra'. Return when you can tell me how many people went out of their way to show a kindness, how many compliments are exchanged every day, and how many people leave their sick beds each day and return to full lives? Come back when you can tell me how much time you spent laughing with the people for whom you have waited." And then the tree was silent.

A little shocked that there were more things to count, but certain that the instruction to count things was a request she was capable of, she left to return to the village. As she walked along she noticed a child look up from beside the road and smile at her. I must count that, she noted to herself.

When she arrived at her home a friend was there to talk with her. She made note of the time they began talking and then immediately became absorbed in the conversation. She tried to remind herself to take note of the hour when her friend left so she would know how long they had spent together.

The next day as she began climbing the stone steps to the market she had to force herself to pay attention to the flowers and not count the steps. But after some effort she began noticing the small delicate flowers forcing their way through the solid stone blocks. She was amazed but kept a careful count.

On her way back home that evening she counted the flowers again to make sure she had been accurate, and to her amazement the number had increased by two fold! How could this be? The stone steps had never changed in number!

She kept track of the people who smiled at her and the number of those who gave her compliments. She observed the merchants that gave customers an extra portion and she kept a running total of the time spent with friends and those who were fun to be with. That night she went to bed confident she would have answers for the tree in a day or two.

But the next day a very strange thing happened! The number of flowers had doubled again, the number of compliments and smiles she received also doubled. She noted a growing number of generous merchants and also noticed that she lost track of time when absorbed in conversation and laughter.

Determined the next day to have an accurate count, she set out to record all the numbers she had been assigned to count. But once again, the numbers grew. She was baffled! How would she have a correct number for the tree? She didn't have much time to puzzle over this strange phenomenon because she soon encountered the things she needed to keep track of: smiles, compliments, generous people and time with friends.

As the day progressed, an amazing transformation began to take place. She felt lighter and happier, people flocked around her and wanted to hear all the fascinating details of their town. No one had ever thought that so many flowers could grow in the steps to the market! And everyone wanted to know who the generous merchants were. Now sellers came to seek her positive observations so they could better promote their wares.

She knew, as she returned under the branches of her teacher, that there were no fixed answers to give the wise old tree. For everyday, whatever she focused on and counted, the next day there were more of those gifts. She was joyous in the understanding that what she took note of, acknowledged and counted, grew in number. Now anything she wished to have more of, she began watching for and counting.

She reached into the branches of the tree and tugged at something she had not noticed on her last visit. A solid gold apple! "You now have the ability to see real treasure and true value," praised the old tree. Holding the shiny, heavy, cool sphere in her hands she knew she had found the secret in being the town counter.

Lois V. Nightingale, Ph.D. (lic# PSY9503) director of the Nightingale Center with offices in Newport Beach and Yorba Linda, California 714-993-5343.