"There were once two friends who lived in a valley," Krishna began, "and above the valley rose a single tall hill with one flat stone at the very top, where you could see the whole sky."

Arjuna nodded for him to go on.

"One friend, named Veda, loved to think. He studied the slopes, drew maps, learned the names of every stone and every turn. The other, named Tila, loved to walk. He cared little for maps; he simply put one foot in front of the other, day after day, climbing."

The white horses dipped their heads to crop at the dry grass.

"Now the village children watched them and began to argue. 'Veda's way is the true way,' said some, 'for he understands the mountain.' 'No, Tila's way is the true way,' said others, 'for he is actually climbing.' They quarreled in the dust and grew quite hot about it."

"And who reached the top?" Arjuna asked.

Krishna's eyes glinted. "Both did. Veda's careful studying carried his feet upward; understanding became climbing without his even noticing. And Tila's faithful walking taught him the mountain step by step until he understood it as well as any map. By the time each one reached the flat stone at the summit, he had become the other. They embraced, and they laughed at the children far below who were still arguing."

He let the words settle.

"Knowing and doing are not two hills, Arjuna. They are two paths up the same one. Only a child thinks you must choose between understanding and acting, as though they led to different skies. Follow either path with your whole heart, all the way to the top, and you arrive where the other path arrives too."

Far across the field, the first ranks began to shift and dress their lines.

"So do not waste this morning wondering which is the 'real' way," Krishna said softly. "Begin to climb. The summit is the same."