A wandering Jain monk stopped at the edge of a village to rest. He sat down under a tamarind tree and folded his legs in meditation. A line of little black ants was crossing the bare earth in front of him. One ant, smaller than the others, paused right in front of his big toe. The ant looked up. To her, the toe was a mountain. She had never been so close to a creature this big. Her little antennae trembled. She thought, "If this giant moves, I will be crushed." The monk had his eyes closed, but he had heard the tiny patter of feet and had felt the warmth of a small life nearby. He did not move his foot. He did not move at all. The wind blew. A bird called. The ant waited. Finally she gathered her courage and walked over the great toe-mountain, and on, and on, to join her sisters carrying a grain of sugar back home. When she got back to her anthill she told the story. The other ants did not believe her at first. "A giant who does not crush you? Impossible." But for the rest of her life she said: "I once met a giant who would not move his foot. From that day, I have not been afraid of mountains."