It's in the Mind

A traveller from a large city was surprised to encounter the plague a few miles from the town. He asked the plague "where are you going" and the plague responded "I am going to the big city to kill 5000 people". At that the traveller continued on his way.

Upon his return the traveller once again met the plague as after it had left the town, and he said to the plague "I thought you said you were only going to kill 5000 people, I heard that 50,000 have died". The plague responded "I did only kill 5000 people, the other 45000 died out of fear".


-

The Genie

A fisherman caught in his net a copper bottle with a lead cap. The bottle contained a powerful genie. The genie, once released, said to the fisherman:
- 'Ask for three wishes and I will give them to you. Which is your first wish?'
- 'I would like you to make me intelligent enough to make a perfect choice of the other two wishes', said the fisherman.
- 'Done', said the genie. 'Now, which are your other two wishes?'

The fisherman reflected for a moment and said:
- 'Thank you. I don't have wishes anymore.'

______________________________

Un pescador cogió en su red una botella de cobre con el tapón de plomo. La botella contenía un genio todopoderoso. El genio, una vez liberado, le dijo al pescador:
- Pide tres deseos y yo te los daré. ¿Cuál es tu primer deseo?
- Me gustaría que me hicieras lo bastante inteligente como para hacer una elección perfecta de los otros dos deseos - dijo el pescador.
- Hecho - dijo el genio - ahora, ¿cuáles son tus otros dos deseos?
El pescador reflexionó un momento y dijo:
- Gracias. No tengo más deseos.

-

Our Actions

It was autumn, and the Indians of a remote reservation asked their new Chief if the next winter was going to be cold or mild. Now, he was Indian Chief in a modern society, so he had never learned the old secrets and as he watched the sky, he could not predict what would happen in the next future. Anyway, to be sure, he told his tribe that the winter was going to be cold and that the members of the village would have to collect firewood to be prepared. But, being also a practical leader, after a few days he had an idea: he went to the telephone cabin and called to the National Meteorology Service and asked:

- Is the next winter going to be very cold?
- It seems that the next winter will be cold enough - said the meteorologist in charge.
So, the Chief returned to his people and told them to collect more firewood, to be prepared.

A week later the Chief called again the National Meteorology Service and asked:

- Will it be a very cold winter?
- Yes - said the meteorologist in charge - it is going to be a very cold winter.
The Chief returned again to his people and ordered them to collect all the pieces of firewood they could find.

Two weeks later the Chief called the National Meteorology Service once again:

- Are you absolutely sure that the next winter will be so cold?
- Absolutely, without any doubt - the man answered - it will be one of the coldest winters ever.
- How can you be so sure? - asked the Chief.
And the meteorologist said:
- All you need is to watch the Indians collecting wood like mad!

-

A Recent Journey

From the twin spires in Delft I looked out over the flat horizontal landscape like the coarse assemblage of some puzzle...a picturesque yet over-regularised scenery...


..the suburban sights morphed into a still potash of silent water against static bridges; a relic of some moment of activity that had been sucked dry into some decadent monograph...


...I pushed through the chimera of reflections, pulling the liquidity of my presence as if I were dream-walking... a state of presence-less... until,


piercing the fractal veil I slipped through the membrane that separated the seconds from each other, and revealed the sight of coloured rays... it was the sunlight...


...and it glared into me like a hungry coyote... we feasted together like carnivore lovers: I wore my shades...

-

How Hungry Are You?

The Hungry Wolf

A skinny and hungry wolf, by chance met a well nourished dog. After the salutation, the wolf asked:

- You look so good, where do you come from? What do you eat to be of such a good spirit? I am stronger than you and I starve.

- You would have the same fortune - the dog responded simply - if you wanted to serve my master the way I do it.

- What services are these? - the wolf asked.

- To guard the door and at night defend the house against the thieves.

- Good! I'll do it. I bear rain and snow in the forests leading a miserable life. How much easier it would be to live under a roof and calmly satiate my hunger with abundant food!

- Allright - said the dog - come with me. While they walked, the wolf saw the bare neck of the dog, caused by the chain.

- Tell me, friend - it said - where does that come from?

- That's nothing.

- Please, please tell me.

- When I am too unquiet - the dog replied - they tie me during the day so that I sleep when there is light and I watch when the night arrives. When the twilight comes, I walk wherever I want. They bring the food to me without asking for it, the master gives me the bones from his own table, the servants give me the rests and the sauces which nobody wants anymore. This way, my belly fills up without having to work.

- But if you wish to leave and go wherever you want, do they allow you to do that?

- No, not at all - said the dog.

- Well then - said the wolf - enjoy your goods. I don't want to be king in exchange of my freedom.

-

The Sweetest Fruit

A man crossing a field found himself in front of a tiger.
He started to run as the tiger chased after him.
As the man arrived at a cliff he stumbled and fell; yet managed to get a hold onto the roots of a wild vine as he hung over the abyss.
The tiger could smell the man from the cliff's edge, just above him.
Shaking, the man looked downwards where another tiger stood waiting to devour his body.

Two mice, a white one and a black one, began to nibble the vine slowly.
The man saw a bush of appetizing strawberries.
Holding onto the vine with one hand, he took some strawberries with the other.

How sweet was their flavour!

-

More than enough...

This is the story of ... The Melon

Traveling, a teacher and his disciple were having a rest. At a certain moment, he took a melon from his saddle bag, he divided it in two and both began to eat it.

While eating, the disciple said:
- My wise teacher, I know that everything you do has a reason. Sharing this melon with me perhaps is a signal that you have something to teach me.

The teacher continued eating in silence.

- By your silence, I understand the hidden question - the disciple insisted - and it must be the following one: the taste which I am experiencing when eating this delicious fruit, where is it: in the melon or my tongue?

The teacher didn't say anything. The disciple, excited, continued:
- And as everything in life has a sense, I think I am close to the answer of this question: the taste is an act of love and interdependence between both, because without the melon there would be no object of pleasure and without the tongue.

- Stop it! - said the teacher - the biggest idiots are those who think they are more intelligent than others and search an interpretation for everything! The melon tastes good, this is more than enough. Let me eat it in peace!

Truly Important Things

Nasrudín began to chat with some friends. One of them, suddenly, asked him about his wife:

- Oh, my wife! - he said - she stays at home.

- What is her occupation? - the others asked.

Nasrudín shrugged his shoulders and said:

Insignificant activities, unimportant things, small things without any transcendence. She takes care of the work at home, takes care of our children and helps them with their homework, goes to the market, does repairs when it is needed, like painting the house and fixing whatever is broken. She takes water out of the well and waters the orchard, also takes care of her ill mother and my mother too; sometimes she visits her sister and helps her out with the children... those kind of things, small things of no importance.

- and what do you do? - someone asked

- Ah friends, I am truly important, of course! I am the one who investigates if God exists.

...

The High Road

A Long time ago in the small town of Hondo, Texas, there used to live a cowboy nicknamed H.R. One day someone asked him:

“H.R., why do people call you H.R.?”

He replied: “H.R. stands for “High Road”, but people do not understand.”

“They do not understand what?” the other asked.

“Well you see”, said H.R., people want to take the high road because it makes them feel superior. Some people think that the high road is the road less traveled and they believe it will help them avoid roadblocks, road rage and low riders. Some even try the middle road. The fact is that there is no such a thing as a high or low road. Actually, there are no roads at all! We are the high road, and the low road, the only road. That is why I call myself H.R.: “The High Road.”

THE FIVE MONKEYS

Start with a cage containing five monkeys. Inside the cage, hang a banana on a string and place a set of stairs under it. Before long, a monkey will go to the stairs and start to climb towards the banana. As soon as he touches the stairs, spray all of the other monkeys with cold water.

After a while, another monkey makes an attempt with the same result - all the other monkeys are sprayed with cold water. Pretty soon, when another monkey tries to climb the stairs, the other monkeys will try to prevent it.

Now, put away the cold water. Remove one monkey from the cage and replace it with a new one. The new monkey sees the banana and wants to climb the stairs. To his surprise and horror, all of the other monkeys attack him. After another attempt and attack, he knows that if he tries to climb the stairs, he will be assaulted.

Next, remove another of the original five monkeys and replace it with a new one. The newcomer goes to the stairs and is attacked. The previous newcomer takes part in the punishment with enthusiasm! Likewise, replace a third original monkey with a new one, then a fourth, then the fifth. Every time the newest monkey takes to the stairs, he is attacked. Most of the monkeys that are beating him have no idea why they were not permitted to climb the stairs or why they are participating in the beating of the newest monkey.

After replacing all the original monkeys, none of the remaining monkeys have ever been sprayed with cold water. Nevertheless, no monkey ever again approaches the stairs to try for the banana. Why not?

Because as far as they know that's the way it's always been done around here.



Is that how things will always be done - without change!?

Be The Change

God decided to come down to Earth for a quick look at
how his creation was coming along.

He approached Earth and happened to look at a big tree
full of howling monkeys. As He looked down, one of the
monkeys happened to look up and saw him.

The monkey became excited and started to shout:

"I see God.....I see God!"

None of the other monkeys paid any attention. Some thought
the monkey was crazy or perhaps just a religious fanatic.
They went on about their daily lives of collecting food, taking
care of their young, fighting with each other, etc., etc. Not getting
any attention, our monkey decided to try to get attention from God, and said:

"God, Almighty, You are the Beneficent, the Merciful, please help me!"

In an instant, the monkey was transformed into a man living in
his own human community.

Everything changed, except for one thing: the monkey's mind.
The monkey immediately realized *that* could be a problem.

"Well, thank you God, but what about my mind?"
"That, said God, you will have to change yourself."

The three old men

A woman left her house and saw three old men with long beards seated in front of her garden.
- I don't know you - she said - but you must be hungry. Please come into my house and eat something.
They asked:
- Is your husband at home?
- No - she said - he is not.
- Then we cannot enter - they said.
On late afternoon, when the husband arrived, she told him what happened.
- Well, tell them I arrived already and invite them to come in.
The woman went outside to invite the men to come into her house.
- The three of us cannot enter a house together - said the old men.
- Why? - she wanted to know.
One of the men pointed towards one of his friends and explained:
- His name is Wealth - he pointed towards the other - his name is Success and my name is Love.

Now go inside and decide with your husband which one of us three you wish to invite into your house.
The woman entered her house and she told her husband what they told her.
The man, very happy, said:
- That's good! If that's the way it is, let's invite Wealth, and have him fill our house with wealth.
His wife did not agree:
- My dear, why don't we invite Success?
Their daughter was listening from the other corner of the house and came running with an idea:
- Wouldn't it better to invite Love? Our home would be full of love then.
- Let's pay attention to our daughter's advice - said the husband to his wife, go outside and invite Love to be our guest.
The wife went outside and asked the three old men:
- Which one of you is Love? Please come and be our guest.
Love stood up and began to walk towards the house. The other two also rose and followed him. Surprised, the lady asked Wealth and Success:
- I only invited Love, why are you also coming?
The old men responded together:
- If you had invited Wealth or Success, the other two would have remained outside, but since you invited Love, wherever he goes, we go with him. Wherever there is love, there is also wealth.



If you truely follow your heart, the rest will arrive as well.

Always Be In Love

An old Persian tale:

Once upon a time, a fish that was a bird up to the waist fell in love with a bird that was a fish down to the waist. Therefore the fish-bird told the bird-fish:

'We have been created in a way we'll never be able to live together: you in the wind and I in the waves. What a pity for both of us!'

'No, how lucky we are', said the bird-fish, 'as we'll always be in love because we'll always be separated'

SATAN'S MEETING

Satan called a worldwide convention of demons.

In his opening address he said,

"We can't keep people from going to pray."

"We can't keep them from reading their holy books and knowing
the truth."

"We can't even keep them from forming an intimate relationship
with their GOD."

"Once they gain that connection with GOD, our power over them
is broken."

"So let them go to their prayers; let them have their covered
dish dinners, BUT steal their time, so they don't have time
to develop a relationship with GOD."

"This is what I want you to do," said the devil:

"Distract them from gaining hold of their GOD and maintaining
that vital connection throughout their day!"

"How shall we do this?" his demons shouted.

"Keep them busy in the non-essentials of life and invent
innumerable schemes to occupy their minds," he answered.

"Tempt them to spend, spend, spend, and borrow, borrow, borrow."

"Persuade the wives to go to work for long hours and the
husbands to work 6-7 days each week, 10-12 hours a day, so they
can afford their empty lifestyles."

"Keep them from spending time with their children."

"As their families fragment, soon, their homes will offer no
escape from the pressures of work!"

"Over-stimulate their minds so that they cannot hear that
still, small voice."

"Entice them to play the radio or cassette player whenever
they drive." To keep the TV, VCR, CDs and their PCs going
constantly in their home and see to it that every store and
restaurant in the world plays non-religious music constantly."

"This will jam their minds and break that union with God."

"Fill the coffee tables with magazines and newspapers."

"Pound their minds with the news 24 hours a day."

"Invade their driving moments with billboards."

"Flood their mailboxes with junk mail, mail order catalogs,
sweep stakes, and every kind of newsletter and promotional
offering free products, services and false hopes.."

"Keep skinny, beautiful models on the magazines and TV so
their husbands will believe that outward beauty is what's
important, and they'll become dissatisfied with their wives."

"Keep the wives too tired to love their husbands at night."

"Give them headaches too!"

"If they don't give their husbands the love they need, they
will begin to look elsewhere."

"That will fragment their families quickly!"

"Give them distractions to distract them from teaching their
children the real meaning of life."

"Even in their recreation, let them be excessive."

"Have them return from their recreation exhausted."

"Keep them too busy to go out in nature and reflect on God's
creation.
Send them to amusement parks, sporting events, plays, concerts,
and movies instead."

"Keep them busy, busy, busy!"

"And when they meet for spiritual fellowship, involve them in
gossip and small talk so that they leave with troubled
consciences."

"Crowd their lives with so many good causes they have no time
to seek power from GOD."

"Soon they will be working in their own strength, sacrificing
their health and family for the good of the cause."

"It will work!"

"It will work!"

It was quite a plan!

The demons went eagerly to their assignments causing people
everywhere to get busier and more rushed, going here and
there.

Having little time for their God or their families.

Having no time to tell others about the power of GOD to change
lives.

I guess the question is, has the devil been successful in his
schemes???

Does "BUSY" mean: B-eing U-nder S-atan's Y-oke?

Amen.

The Road Not Taken

I walked, for my feet carried me through wooded paths
amidst fallen twigs and trodden, scented crushed leaves.

And the sun tried to creep through like the soothing
arms of a morning mistress when she wakes..

there was freshness in folded air as it held me
in an embrace I long to return to,

where I am going only my destination can truly tell;
blind as I am to my follies and struggles...

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The Land

Michael’s wanderings led him from one odd job to another; meeting new people, gaining new experiences. Never bored yet moving within a fabric of lack: lack of money, lack of security, lack of consistency; lack of knowing. This was coupled with a lack of caring beyond his immediate needs, and a lack of worry too. Perhaps it was a lack of gain.

Michael knew well enough that his ways were out of the net of contemporary society. He wasn’t being a member of the social formation; yet he was attempting, and hoping, to be a member of humanity. Things were changing; fixtures were seemingly becoming more fluid. Fixed notions of the self and how to interact with ones environment were breaking away from their moorings and casting adrift those who held dearly to their anchoring. Too many years, and too much reliance, upon an iron anchor of belief and hope was beginning to tear at people’s civilised psyche. Michael was noticing this infraction as he moved across the landscape of a country increasingly alien and unfamiliar. And the cities were burning.

Urban sprawls had slowly been turning into hardened wombs. Just like the Auschwitz experiments of injecting concrete into the veins of victimized death-camp inmates, so too had the degradation of negativity slowly been poisoning the urban veins with concrete viruses and piss-stinking twisted love. The painful cold heat of urbanity finally drove Michael away from the cumbersome cash-in-hand dishwashing jobs into the retreat of rural grasslands. It was the air too that Michael craved for; the open air of expanse and a Nature that did not bite in judgement but welcomed as family. And finally Michael rested upon a small farm in some hills far away from his home town, and took on the hired-hand of a farm labourer.

It was hard, manual work. It rubbed against his skin as much as it rubbed coarsely against his upbringing. Both his finger skin and his conditioning began to fall away from the soft-textured patterning. Back aching and body-battered did Michael often fall into bed at night – exhausted yet satisfied. Michael began to feel himself becoming stronger little by little each day.

The farm employers treated Michael well in the circumstances. He was treated almost as family, and ate at the same table and afforded the same privileges as everyone else who worked on the farm. The sole condition was that Michael pulled his weight and did his job well. For Michael this was demanding, yet fair. And so in this challenge Michael sought a life opportunity to fulfil. It had been a circumstance placed before him, either to confront or turn away.

The strength of will inside Michael’s chest urged him on to face this step like a compassionate hunter of the self.

Although Michael felt neither like a hunter nor a warrior, he still felt as if he was engaged in a constant war. Yet it was not a destructive war, nor a fearful one. It was a constructive war of apprehension and renewal; not knowing the prey until it spoke deep inside with the hunter’s own voice. As if to cure yourself you must first kill that which is most precious to you – your very own conception of self. The belief in you: yet that belief which is not you. To dig up the implanted and sew anew.

After two years on the farm Michael felt a strengthened change had come over him. Still quiet yet not timid, just like the lay of the land.

Judas

His parents named him Judas so that he would learn the depth of loyalty to that which one holds dear.

Judos never forgot the power of his name for he carried it about with him wherever he wandered, and treasured it as a jewel in his heart. For Judas was the name of the most loyal, of the one who would die for that most precious thing.

Yet one’s journey should not be announced or advertised like branding. The self is not to be commercialised. So he called himself Michael whilst he wandered the world.

Michael believed in doing what was right for the moment. And that in each event, encounter, a person should leave differently from how they came.

For Michael, everything that is needed exists in the present moment, and this moment is all that exists. So each moment he enjoyed in the time he was in, for that very moment may not come again. Nothing was to be ignored for fear of hesitancy within.

In life, moments seek, but do not return. Golden moments must always burn.

Michael had left home when he was sixteen, wanting to find an unknown thing from the world. He sustained himself on his own innocence, fed by faith and fearlessness. And the understanding that the worst to come could only be death. Such a small price to pay for the sense of freedom gained from Michael’s own secret pain.

A pain that told Michael, incontrovertibly and irreversibly, that he had a special one thing to do in his life. One thing to do, and no matter what else he did, whether he courted Kings or ruled corporations, if he did not do this one thing in his life he would have done nothing. Yet if he could achieve this one thing, then anything else he did would not matter, nor would it constrain him. His freedom came with the price of this one thing.

Yet how could he know what it was?

Rather than sit at home wondering, musing through moments as if they were abundant and endless, Michael opened his own front gate onto the world and stepped out from the family familiars and comfort furnishings. Like a sailor on a sinking ship, the only thing to save was himself. Similarly, the only thing to lose was himself. In-between Michael knew a balance could be found, and there was no harm in trying.

Just as the hand of winter reveals the secrets of spring, the fractals of nature conspire towards connecting all seeming coincidences. Even those things thought of as a hindrance have a purpose: shade protects from the sun; cold preserves and protects the buds; and hurt provides the pleasure of knowing joy.

It sounds so simple, so easy, so childlike. The world isn’t always so simple. The world keeps its own secrets for the seeker to discover.

Michael had secrets too; so engrained that they had become a part of his flesh. So he couldn’t give them away lest he lose a portion of his skin.

Instead Michael went looking for someone he could tell his secrets to. He knew there must be someone who can keep secrets.

When the heart longs for fresh water it will no longer dwell near the brackish water of ditches and stagnant ponds. Nor will the salt water of the sea suffice. As the swan glides effortlessly, so does the temptation drag the duckling in its wake.

KLD

Shavings

A disciple asked Hilmi:

'Why are you so interested in subjects that have nothing to do with the progress of human beings?'

'When you want to know if a copper craftsman has been working hard, check if his workroom is covered with shavings'

Written in the Sands

A stream, from its source in far-off mountains, passing through every kind and description of countryside, at last reached the sands of the desert. Just as it had crossed every other barrier, the stream tried to cross this one, but it found that as fast as it ran into the sand, its waters disappeared. It was convinced, however, that its destiny was to cross this desert, and yet there was no way. Now a hidden voice, coming from the desert itself, whispered: “The wind crosses the desert, and so can the stream.”

The stream objected that it was dashing itself against the sand, only getting absorbed: that the wind could fly and this was why it could cross a desert.

“By hurtling in your own accustomed way you cannot get across. You will either disappear or become a marsh. You must allow the wind to carry you over to your destination.”

But how could this happen?

“By allowing yourself to be absorbed in the wind.”

This idea was not acceptable to the stream. After all, it had never been absorbed before. It did not want to lose its individuality. And, once having lost it, how was one to know that it could ever be regained?

“The wind,” said the sand, “performs this function. It takes up water, carries it over the desert, and then lets it fall again. Falling as rain, the water again becomes a river.”

“How can I know that is true?”

“It is so, and if you do not believe it, you cannot become more than a quagmire, and even that could take many, many years; and it certainly is not the same as a stream.”

“But can I not remain the same stream that I am today?”

“You cannot in either case remain so,” the whisper said. “Your essential part is carried away and forms a stream again. You are called what you are even today because you do not know which part of you is the essential one.”

When he heard this, certain echoes began to arise in the thoughts of the stream. dimly, he remembered a state in which he - or some part of him, was it? - had been held in the arms of a wind. He also remembered - or did he? - that this was the real thing, not necessarily the obvious thing to do.

And the stream raised his vapour into the welcoming arms of the wind, which gently and easily bore it upwards and along, letting it fall softly as soon as they reached the roof of a mountain, many, many miles away. And because he had had his doubts, the stream was able to remember and record more strongly in his mind the details of the experience. He reflected, “Yes, now I have learned my true identity.”

The stream was learning. But the sands whispered: “We know, because we see it happen day after day: and because we, the sands, extend from the riverside all the way to the mountain.”

And that is why it is said: The way in which the Stream of Life is to continue on its journey is written in the Sands.

Via Seeker After Truth