There was once a hare who liked to run. He would run from other hares, from noises in the weeds, even from his own shadow. The hare had learned to run from an early age, and the faster he could run, the more comfortable he would feel. Soon, he found happiness in his running. It kept everything else away, just how he liked it.
There was also a tortoise. She had a strong shell, and loved to move slow and cautious. While it was easy for other creatures to catch up to her, her shell kept them at bay and they would often tire of her gait and move on. She had learned to crawl from an early age, and the slower she could go the more safe she would feel. Soon, she had found safety in her slowness and her shell. It kept everything else away.
One day, they spotted each other from a distance on a winding trail. Neither could explain it, but each had wanted to know the other. The hare, in his exuberance, would run to the tortoise, who would hide in her shell.
“Come out and talk to me,” he would say to her.
“No,” replied the tortoise muffled through her shell. “You scare me.”
The hare would leave, running from her and everything else around him. Soon, however, he could not help himself, and he’d return to the tortoise, who would dart into her shell each and every time.
“Please talk to me,” the hare would say. “I really just want to talk to you.”
“I can’t,” replied the tortoise. “Please leave me be.”
The hare would not give up. He would run and hide, then come back. While everything else scared him, he found the tortoise comforting. There was something strangely familiar about her.
One day, the hare was running around the tortoise, who had camped within her shell. As usual, his mind was everywhere, always making sure there was enough distance between him and everything else. Suddenly, the tortoise peeked her head from the shell.
The hare stopped dead in his tracks.
“There you are,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”
“Please don’t,” the tortoise replied. “I’m nervous. I’m not sure what to do.”
“OK. Well, would you mind if I just stayed here and talked to you?”
“No. As long as you stay over there.”
The hare and the tortoise began to talk. The hare, comfortable in their distance, enjoyed their conversation. The tortoise liked their talks too, but would hide in her shell from time to time. Soon, however, the times she would hide would get shorter and shorter.
One day, the hare sat next to the tortoise at their agreed distance. He noticed that not only had her head come out of the shell, but all of her legs and come out too.
“You know,” said the hare, “you are quite a beautiful thing.”
“Stop,” she said. “Please don’t make me nervous.”
“I don’t mean to. It’s just that I find you fascinating.”
“Thank you,” she said. Incredibly, she began walking toward the hare until she stood right next to him. “You know, you are much too fast for me.”
“I never thought I was fast. Elusive, maybe, but not fast. Seems maybe we’re both elusive in our own way.”
“Maybe.”
They began to talk again. They shared stories of their youth, of their time in the forest. Soon, before either noticed, they were walking down the trail together.
Every once in a while, the hare would get the need to run. The tortoise would hide in her shell.
“Come on,” the hare would shout. “Keep up!”
“No, I can’t. Please slow down.”
The hare felt constrained by her need for slowness, and the tortoise felt scared at his need for speed. Still, both enjoyed each other’s company on the trail.
“This is not a race,” she’d say. “We don’t need to go so fast.”
The hare would try to explain. “But you don’t understand. Being still scares me. There are predators in the forest. If I slow down, they will get me. I don’t have a shell to protect me, I only have my elusiveness.”
“But you don’t understand,” the tortoise would reply. “I can’t move that fast. I’m not built that way. I need my shell and I need my pace in order to survive. I just can’t move any faster.”
Both the hare’s need for speed, and the tortoise’s need for caution, scared them both. The hare liked to keep things moving. The tortoise liked her shell. Both saw threats all around them, and did what they had to do to survive.
“What should we do?” asked the hare.
“I’m not sure,” said the tortoise. Both fell into a moment of sadness, and they stopped walking.
Soon, a dove appeared in the sky. The hare began to run, as he always had. The tortoise darted in her shell, as she always had. The dove landed on a tree near them both. Neither the tortoise nor the hare had ever seen a dove that looked like this one.
“Relax,” said the dove. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
Slowly, the tortoise poked her head out of her shell, and the hare stopped running. Both looked up at the dove.
“What are you doing?” asked the dove.
“What do you mean?” both the tortoise and the hare responded at the same time.
“You both are so busy looking at what you think keeps you safe that you aren’t looking at what really will keep you safe. You aren’t seeing what is truly important.”
The hare and the tortoise looked at each other. Both had an idea of what the dove meant, but both were unsure.
“Look,” said the dove. “What you have here is love. You both love each other, and want to be on this path together. Yet, both are afraid of each other and what it means to be in love. Each of you wants to hide in your own way. What would happen if you both tried something new?”
The tortoise spoke up first. “We could be on this path together?”
“Well, yes. If that is what you choose.”
This time, it was the hare who responded. He looked at the tortoise. “I choose to be on this with you.”
“And I with you,” said the tortoise.
“Then,” said the dove to the hare, “you need to be able to slow down and honor the pace she needs to walk. If she needs to hide, let her. Don’t run from her, but protect her until she feels comfortable to emerge again.”
The hare shook his head. He understood what the dove meant. Sometimes walking a path with someone you love requires you to face your fear. Soon you’ll learn that your fear is often only in your head, and you can’t keep running from those things in your head. When you hide in your shell, your head goes with you.
“And you,” said the dove to the tortoise. “Don’t be afraid of the hare. He isn’t going to hurt you. Sometimes, try to speed up a bit.”
The tortoise understood. She looked at the hare and smiled.
“One day,” the dove went on, “you going to find that you both are walking the same speed most of the time. You’ll also see that when you need to run, or hide, that will be okay. You’ll know you have each other’s back and you’ll never have to run from each other. The space you share will be your safest. You will both see how strong you are, both together and apart.”
From that day on, the tortoise and the hare walked, ran, hid and scrambled on the same path together. Neither feared the other again, and each understood that when one had to hide, the other could let them be and hold the space safe for them. Both always knew that the dove, that love, was always guiding them on this path.
Mostly, what the tortoise and the hare learned on this path was that the tortoise was right, this was not a race. It would not matter if either of them crossed the finish line first. What would matter is that they crossed it together.
The end.
