lon li pakala pona e tenpo.

These are the words as recovered from the awoken well:

jan Antete li tawa musi kulupu poka jan olin sina.
ona li pana e moku lon supa moku sina la ona li lukin e jan Sipi.
ona li toki e ni: mi ken pona e mi tan seme?
jan Sipi li lukin lon ale li toki e ni: jan seme li toki?
jan Antete li toki e ni: mi toki!
jan Sipi li toki e ni:

mi lukin taso e jan.
jan ni li wile awen poka jan olin ona.

jan Antete li tawa jan olin ona.
jan olin li moku e moku ale pi jan Antete.

Here follows a relaxed translation:

Antete visits a party with his wife. He has filled a plate of food before he sees Tipi. Antete asks Tipi: “How can I change to be a better person?” Tipi looks around: “Who is asking?” Antete says: “Me!” Tipi says: “I see only someone who should have stayed with his wife.” Antete walks back to his wife. She has eaten all his food.

Associative musings:

If there is one thing we think we are in need of, it is change. Even just accepting ourselves is a change that we want to achieve. We want to learn more, be better, understand ourselves better, but whatever we do, staying the same is the worst situation. But why is this?

If there is one certainty in life it is that everything is changing, constantly. So one of the only things you do not have to worry about is not changing. Even recurring patterns are not perfectly recurring. Every day may look the same but never is. Some changes occur at larger timescales than others but they occur without any intervention.

If you want to strife for something difficult it would be staying the same. Not literally, because that is impossible, but in the sense of being coherent. Since any interaction can cause decoherence of any part of ourselves, the art of keeping ourselves together is the one that is worthy. If you manage to cohere yourself to you past and future in a self-consistent way, you fend of the worst kind of loneliness.

Read a newer koan (A dog's quality is not defined by barking. A person's quality is not determined by its talking.)

Read an older koan (The word for water cannot wash anything.)