A Short Tale

A birth. A dream. A search. A love. A reality. A realization. A devotion. A death.

Lopamudra

Three Trees

Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods. They were discussing their hopes and dreams when the first tree said, "Someday I hope to be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. could be decorated with intricate carving and everyone would see the beauty." Then the second tree said, "Someday I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull." Finally the third tree said, "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People will see me on top of the hill and look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God and how close to them I am reaching. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me."

After a few years of praying that their dreams would come true, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. When one came to the first tree he said, "This looks like a strong tree, I think I should be able to sell the wood to a carpenter" ... and he began cutting it down. The tree was happy, because he knew that the carpenter would make him into a treasure chest. At the second tree a woodsman said, "This looks like a strong tree, I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship. When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, the tree was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree so I'll take this one", and he cut it down."

When the first tree arrived at the carpenters, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not at all what he had prayed for. The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end. The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark.

The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams. Then one day, a man and woman came to the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box that was made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but this manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time.

Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and he stood and said "Peace" and the storm stopped. At this time, the tree knew that it had carried the King of Kings in its boat.

Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as the people mocked the man who was carrying it. When they came to a stop, the man was nailed to the tree and raised in the air to die at the top of a hill. When Sunday came, the tree came to realize that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as was possible, because God had been crucified on it.

How To Take Insult

From: TheDailyEnlightenment.com Weekly 21/04/05:

On one occasion, the Buddha was invited by the Brahmin Bharadvaja for alms to his house. As invited, the Buddha visited the house of the Brahmin. Instead of entertaining Him, the Brahmin poured forth a torrent of abuse with the filthiest of words. The Buddha politely inquired:

"Do visitors come to your house, good Brahmin?"
"Yes," he replied.
"What do yu do when they come?"
"Oh, we prepare a sumptuous feast."
"What do you if they refuse to receive the meal?"
"Why, we gladly partake of them ourselves."
"Well, good Brahmin, you have invited me for alms and entertained me with abuse which I decline to accept. So now it belongs to you."

From the Akkosa Sutta

The Buddha did not retaliate but politely gave back what the Brahmin had given Him. Retaliate not, the Buddha advised. "Hatred does not cease through hatred but through love alone they cease."

A Tale

One day Buddha and his disciple was meditating in a quiet garden when one of his disciples, deep in a meditative state, began to levitate. Feeling his body lifting itself up from the ground, he became very excited, and very PROUD of his accomplishments. He stirred himself from his meditation and felt himself back on the ground. He stood up and walked over to Buddha,
"I have mastered levitation," the disciple announced.
"Thats nice," Buddha responded, "but don't let it distract you from your meditaion."

Moral: WE SHOULD NOT LOSE SIGHT OF OUR REAL GOALS.

The Brick

Success Principles

Catalina Island is twenty-one miles away from the coast of California, and many people have taken the challenge to swim across it.

On July 4th 1952, Florence Chadwick stepped into the water off Catalina Island to swim across to the California coast. She started well and on course, but later fatigue set in, and the weather became cold. She persisted, but fifteen hours later, numb and cold, she asked to be taken out of the water.

After she recovered, she was told that she had been pulled out only half a mile away from the coast. She commented that she could have made it, if the fog had not affected her vision and she would have just seen the land. She promised that this would be the only time that she would ever quit.She went back to her rigorous training. And two months later she swam that same channel. The same thing happened. The fatigue set in, and the fog obscured her view, but this time she swam with faith and vision of the land in her mind. She knew that somewhere behind the fog was land. She succeeded and became the first woman to swim the Catalina Channel. She even broke the men’s record by two hours.

SUCCESS PRINCIPLES: When you set your goal, keep pressing on even when you are tired, physically and mentally, and even though there are many challenges ahead. Keep the vision of your goal crystal clear before you and never, never, never… give up!See the reaching, commit to it, and you will surely see your goal realized.

How many other things we are missing?

Washington DC Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time approx 2 thousand people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

After 3 minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.
4 minutes later:
The violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the till and, without stopping, continued to walk.
6 minutes:
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
10 minutes:
A 3 year old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly, as the kid stopped to look at the violinist.. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced them to move on.
45 minutes:
The musician played. Only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace.
He collected $32.
1 hour:
He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.

This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by theWashington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.

The questions raised: in a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be:
If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments .....

How many other things are we missing?

Why We Differ?

A frog lived in a well. It had lived there for a long time. It was born there and brought up there, and yet was a little, small frog. Of course, the evolutionists were not there then to tell us whether the frog lost its eyes or not, but, for our story's sake, we must take it for granted that it had its eyes, and that it every day cleansed the water of all the worms and bacilli that lived in it with an energy that would do credit to our modern bacteriologists. In this way it went on and became a little sleek and fat. Well, one day another frog that lived in the sea came and fell into the well.

'Where are you from?' 'I am from the sea.' 'The sea! How big is that? Is it as big as my well?' and he took a leap from one side of the well to the other. 'My friend,' said the frog of the sea, 'how do you compare the sea with your little well?' Then the frog took another leap and asked, 'Is your sea so big?' 'What nonsense you speak, to compare the sea with your well!' 'Well then,' said the frog of the well, 'nothing can be bigger than my well; there can be nothing bigger than this; this fellow is a liar, so turn him out.'

That has been the difficulty all the while.

--- Swami Vivekananda

In Inspiring Story

A giant ship engine failed. The ship's owners tried one expert after another, but none of them could figure but how to fix the engine.

Then they brought in an old man who had been fixing ships since he was a young. He carried a large bag of tools with him, and when he arrived, he immediately went to work. He inspected the engine very carefully, top to bottom.

Two of the ship's owners were there, watching this man, hoping he would know what to do. After looking things over, the old man reached into his bag and pulled out a small hammer. He gently tapped something. Instantly, the engine lurched into life. He carefully put his hammer away. The engine was fixed!

A week later, the owners received a bill from the old man for ten thousand dollars.

"What?!" the owners exclaimed. "He hardly did anything!"

So they wrote the old man a note saying, "Please send us an itemized bill."

The man sent a bill that read:
Tapping with a hammer...... ......... ....... $ 2.00
Knowing where to tap.......... ......... ...... $ 9, 998.00

Effort is important, but knowing where to make an effort makes all the difference!

The Gift of Insults

There once lived a great warrior.

Though quite old, he still was able to defeat any challenger. His reputation extended far and wide throughout the land and many students gathered to study under him.

One day an infamous young warrior arrived at the village. He was determined to be the first man to defeat the great master. Along with his strength, he had an uncanny ability to spot and exploit any weakness in an opponent. He would wait for his opponent to make the first move, thus revealing a weakness, and then would strike with merciless force and lightning speed. No one had ever lasted with him in a match beyond the first move.

Much against the advice of his concerned students, the old master gladly accepted the young warrior's challenge. As the two squared off for battle, the young warrior began to hurl insults at the old master. He threw dirt and spit in his face. For hours he verbally assaulted him with every curse and insult known to mankind. But the old warrior merely stood there motionless and calm. Finally, the young warrior exhausted himself. Knowing he was defeated, he left feeling shamed.

Somewhat disappointed that he did not fight the insolent youth, the students gathered around the old master and questioned him. "How could you endure such an indignity? How did you drive him away?"

"If someone comes to give you a gift and you do not receive it," the master replied, "to whom does the gift belong?"

--- A Zen Parable

MUST READ

It was a sports stadium.

Eight Children were standing on the track to participate in the running event.
* Ready! * Steady! * Bang!!!
With the sound of Toy pistol, all eight girls started running. Hardly have they covered ten to fifteen steps, one of the smaller girls slipped and fell down . Due to bruises and pain she started crying.


When other seven girls heard this sound, stopped running, stood for a while and turned back, they all ran back to the place where the girl fell down. One among them bent, picked and kissed the girl gently and enquired 'Now pain must have reduced'. All seven girls lifted the fallen girl, pacified her, two of them held the girl firmly and then all seven joined hands together and walked together and reached the winning post.
Officials were shocked. Clapping of thousands of spectators filled the stadium. Many eyes were filled with tears and perhaps it had reached the GOD even!

YES. This happened in Hyderabad [ INDIA ], recently!

The sport was conducted by National Institute of Mental Health. All these special girls had come to participate in this event and they are Spastic children.

Yes, they were mentally challenged.

What did they teach this world?

Teamwork?
Humanity?
Equality among all?????

Successful people help others who are slow in learning so that they are not Felt far behind.

We don't do this ever because we have BRAINS!!!

Why Women Cry

One day, a young boy asked his Mom. "Why are you crying?"
"Because I'm a woman" she told him.
"I don't understand," he said.
His Mom just hugged him and said, "And you never will, but that's okay."

Later the little boy asked his father, "Why does Mom seem to cry for no reason?"
"All women cry for no reason" was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why women cry.
Finally, he put in a call to God.
When God got back to him, he asked, "God, why do women cry so easily?"
God answered,

"When I made woman, I decided she had to be special.
I made her shoulders strong enough
to carry the weight of the world,
yet her arms gentle enough to give comfort.
I gave her the inner strength to endure childbirth
and the rejection that many times will come,
even from her own children.
I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going
and take care of her family and friends,
even when everyone else gives up,
through sickness and fatigue, without complaining.
I gave her the sensitivity to love her children
under any and all circumstances,
even when her child has hurt her badly.
She has the very special power
to make a child's boo-boo feel better
and to quell a teenager's anxieties and fears.
I gave her strength to care for her husband, despite faults,
and I fashioned her from his rib to protect his heart.
I gave her wisdom to know
that a good husband never hurt his wife
but sometimes tests her strengths and her resolve
to stand beside him unfalteringly.
For all of this hard work, I also gave her a tear to shed.
It is her's to use whenever needed and is her only weakness."
"When you see her cry, tell her how much you love her
and all she does for everyone.
And even though she may still cry,
you will have made her heart feel good."
"She is special!"

The Missing Brick

Once, when I and my wife were traveling, I received a fax from my secretary.

“There’s one glass brick missing for the work on the kitchen renovation,’ she said. ‘I’m sending you the original plan as well as the plan the builder has come up with to compensate for it.”

On the one hand, there was the design my wife had made: harmonious lines of bricks with an opening for ventilation. On the other, there was the plan drawn up to resolve the problem of the missing brick: a real jigsaw puzzle in which the glass squares were arranged in a higgledy-piggledy fashion that defied aesthetics.

“Just buy another brick," wrote my wife. And so the did, and thus stuck to the original design.

That afternoon, I thought for a long time about what had happened; how often, for the lack of one brick, we completely distort the original plan of our lives.

On My Way To Chicago Bookfair

I was flying from New York to Chicago to attend the book fair held in the American Booksellers Association. Suddenly, a young man stood up in the aisle of the plane and announced:
"I need twelve volunteers each willing to carry a single rose when we get off the plane."

Several people raised their hands. I did too, but wasn't chosen. Even so, I decided to follow the group. We landed, and the young man indicated a young woman in the arrivals hall at O'Hare Airport. One by one, the passengers presented their roses to her. At last, in front of everyone, the young man asked her to marry him, and she accepted.

An air steward said to me: "I've been working here for years, and that's the most romantic things that has ever happened in this airport."

Paulo Coelho

The Devil's Pool

I'm looking at a lovely natural pool near the village of Babinda in Australia. A young Aborigine comes over to me.

"Be careful you don't slip," he says.

The small pool is surrounded by rocks, apparently quite safe to walk on.

"This place is called the Devil's Pool," the boy goes on. "Many years ago, Oolona, a beautiful Aborigine girl who was married to a warrior from Babinda, fell in love with another man. They fled into these mountains, but the husband found them. The lover escaped, but Oolona was murdered here in these waters. Ever since then, Oolona thinks that every man who comes near is her lost love, and she kills them with her watery embrace."

Later on, I asked the owner of the small hotel about the Devil's Pool.

"It must just be superstition," he says, "but the fact is that eleven tourists have died there in the last ten years, and they were all men."

--- PAULO COELHO

In San Diego Harbour, California

I was talking to a woman from the Tradition of the Moon - a kind of initiation path for women that works in harmony with the forces of nature.

"Would you like to touch a seagull?" she asked, looking at the birds perched along the seawall.

Of course I would. I tried several times, but whenever I get close, they would fly away.

"Try to feel love for the bird, the allow that love to pour out of your breast like a ray of light and touch the bird's breast. Then very quietly go over to it."

I did as she suggested. The first two times I failed, but the third time, as if I had entered a kind of trance, I did touch the seagull. I went into that trance state again with the same positive result.

"Love creates bridges where it would seem they were impossible," said my white witch friend.

I recount this experience here, for anyone who would like to try it.

----Like the Flowing River, Paulo Coelho.

A Sandpiper To Bring You Joy

She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near my home. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.

"Hello," she said. I answered with a nod, not really in mood to be bothered by a small child. ''I'm building," she said. "I see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring. "Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand." That' sounds good, I thought. I slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by. "That's a joy," the child said. "It's a what?" It's a joy. My mama says Sandpipers come to bring us joy."

The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance. "What's your name?" She wouldn't give up. "Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson. " "Mine's Wendy ... I'm six." "Hi, Wendy." She giggled. "You're funny," she said. In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me. "Come again, Mr P''' she called. "We'll have another happy day."

After a few days of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother, the sun was shining one morning as I finished my chores. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but il I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.

"Hello, Mr P," she said. "Do you want to play?" "What do you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance. "I don't know, you say." "How about charades?" I asked sarcastically. The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is." "Then let's just walk." Looking-at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. "Where do you live?" I asked. "Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter. "Where do you go to school?" "I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation." She chattered as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

Three weeks later, I rushed to the beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home. "Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, ''I'd rather be alone today." She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. "Why?" she asked. I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" And thought, My God, why was I saying this? To a little child? "Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day." "Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and - oh, go away!" "Did it hurt?" she inquired. "Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her and with myself. "When she died?" "Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.

A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman opened the door.

"Hello," I said, ''I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was." "Oh yes, Mr Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies." "Not at all - she's a delightful child." I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said. "Wendy died last week, Mr Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you."
Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath. "She loved this beach so when she asked to com , we couldn't say no. She seemed so mu h better here and had a lot of what she c lied happy days. But the last few weeks she declined rapidly ... " Her voice faltered, 'She left something for you ... if only I ca find it. Could you wait a moment while look?" I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman. She I handed me a smeared envelope with 'Mr p" printed tn- boldish letters:-Inside was a drawing in bright crayon huesn a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bir . Underneath was carefully printed:

"A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY"

Tears welled up in my eyes and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother's both hands. ''I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I muttered over and over, and we wept together.

The precious llittle picture is framed now and hangs in m study. Six wbrds - one for each year of her life – that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love.

A gift from child with sea blue eyes and hair the colour of sand -- who taught me the gift of love.

Note: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It hap ened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his life forever.