One Life, Many Masters

 Some Lessons on Teachers' Day

(We celebrate Teachers’ Day to honor our teachers and appreciate their contribution to society. In India, we celebrate Teachers’ Day on 5th September, which is the birthday of Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, the second President of the Country. We do not restrict ourselves with the term teacher only being applicable to those who teach in the school, but to any one who has a valuable life lesson to teach us. UNESCO has declared World Teachers’ Day on 5th October.)

One Life, Many Masters

One of the great Sufi Masters, Junnaid, was dying. His chief disciple came close to him and asked softly, ″Master, you are leaving us. One question has always been in our minds.  Who was your Master? This has been a great curiosity among all your disciples because we have never heard you talk about your Master. But we could never gather the courage to ask you."

Junnaid opened his eyes and said, ″It will be very difficult for me to answer because I have learned from almost everybody. The whole existence has been my Master. I have learned from every event that has happened in my life. And I am grateful to all that has happened, because out of all that learning I have arrived.″ 

Junnaid said, ″Just to satisfy your curiosity I will give you three instances...

One: 

I was very thirsty and I was going towards the river carrying my begging bowl, the only possession I had. When I reached the river a dog rushed, jumped into the river, started drinking. 

I watched the dog for a moment and threw away my begging bowl. Because I saw it is useless. A dog could do without it. I also jumped into the river, drank as much water as I wanted. My whole body was cool because I had jumped into the river. I sat in the river for a few moments, thanked the dog, touched his feet with deep reverence because he had taught me a lesson. 

I had dropped everything, all possessions, but there was a certain clinging to my begging bowl. It was a beautiful bowl, very beautifully carved, and I was always aware that somebody might steal it. Even in the night I used to put it under my head as a pillow so nobody could snatch it away. That was my last clinging. The dog helped. It was so clear: if a dog can manage without a begging bowl... I am a man, why can′t I manage? That dog was one of my Masters. 

Two:

I lost my way in a forest and by the time I reached the nearest village that I could find, it was midnight. Everybody was fast asleep. I wandered all over the town to see if I could find somebody awake to give me shelter for the night, until finally I found one man. I asked him, ′It seems only two persons are awake in the town, you and I. Can you give me shelter for the night?′ 

The man said, ′I can see from your gown that you are a Sufi monk....′″ 

The word Sufi comes from suf; suf means wool, a woolen garment. The Sufis have used the woolen garment for centuries; hence they are called Sufis because of their garment. 

The man said, ″I can see you are a Sufi and I feel a little embarrassed to take you to my home. I am perfectly willing, but I must tell you who I am. I am a thief. Would you like to be a guest of a thief?″ 

For a moment Junnaid hesitated. The thief said, ″Look, it is better I told you. You seem hesitant. The thief is willing but the mystic seems to be hesitant to enter into the house of a thief, as if the mystic is weaker than the thief. In fact, I should be afraid of you--you may change me, you may transform my whole life! Inviting you means danger, but I am not afraid. You are welcome. Come to my home. Eat, drink, go to sleep, and stay as long as you want, because I live alone and my earning is enough. I can manage for two persons. And it will be really beautiful to chit-chat with you of great things. But you seem to be hesitant.″ 

Junnaid became aware that it was true. He asked to be forgiven. He touched the feet of the thief and he said, ″Yes, my rootedness in my own being is yet very weak. You are really a strong man and I would like to come to your home. And I would like to stay a little longer, not only for this night. I want to be stronger myself!″ 

The thief said, ″Come on!″ He fed the Sufi, gave him something to drink, helped him to prepare for sleep and he said, ″Now I will go. I have to do my own thing. I will come back early in the morning.″ Early in the morning the thief came back. Junnaid asked, ″Have you been successful?″ 

The thief said, ″No, not today, but I will see tomorrow.″

And this happened continuously, for thirty days: every night the thief went out, and every morning he came back empty-handed. But he was never sad, never frustrated--no sign of failure on his face, always happy --and he would say, ″It doesn′t matter. I tried my best. I could not find anything today again, but tomorrow I will try. And, God willing, it can happen tomorrow if it has not happened today.″ 

After one month Junnaid left, and for years he tried to realize the ultimate, and it was always a failure. But each time he decided to drop the whole project he remembered the thief, his smiling face and his saying ″God willing, what has not happened today may happen tomorrow.″ 

Junnaid said, ″I remembered the thief as one of my greatest Masters. Without him I would not be what I am. 

Three:

I entered a small village. A little boy was carrying a lit candle, obviously going to the small temple of the town to put the candle there for the night.″ 

And Junnaid asked, ″Can you tell me from where the light comes? You have lighted the candle yourself so you must have seen. What is the source of light?″ 

The boy laughed and he said, ″Wait!″ And he blew out the candle in front of Junnaid. And he said, ″You have seen the light go. Can you tell me where it has gone? If you can tell me where it has gone I will tell you from where it has come, because it has gone to the same place. It has returned to the source.″ 

Junnaid said, ″I had met great philosophers but nobody had made such a beautiful statement: ′It has gone to its very source.′ Everything returns to its source finally. Moreover, the child made me aware of my own ignorance. I was trying to joke with the child, but the joke was on me. He showed me that asking foolish questions--′From where has the light come?′--is not intelligent. It comes from nowhere, from nothingness--and it goes back to nowhere, to nothingness.″ 

Junnaid said, ″I touched the feet of the child. The child was puzzled. He said, ′Why you are touching my feet?′ And I told him, ′You are my Master--you have shown me something. You have given me a great lesson, a great insight.′ 

″Since that time,″ Junnaid said, ″I have been meditating on nothingness and slowly, slowly I have entered into nothingness. And now the final moment has come when the candle will go out, the light will go out. And I know where I am going--to the same source. 

I remember that child with gratefulness. I can still see him standing before me now, blowing out the candle.

No situation is without a lesson, no situation at all. All situations are with a meaning and intelligence. But we have to discover them. They may not always be on the surface. 

When we see life itself as our master, these lessons become more accessible

Do Not Take Things For Granted

The boy has colour blindness. His father bought him a pair of glasses to correct the defect.

Things that we take for granted is special for someone...Need to thank God for all that we have.

Happy Diwali 2017

Wishing ALL OF YOU, tons of success and prosperity.

Appearances Can Be Deceptive

Today, I have two stories for you. Both of them are true. Here's the first one:

Maxwell Morrison was well and truly screwed. He was standing in a courtroom in Bangkok, waiting for his sentence. The offence was drug trafficking, and if found guilty, the sentence would be life in one of the most horrific prisons in the world. The problem was that Maxwell was innocent. the drugs had been found stashed in a musical instrument he had agreed to carry through the checkpoint for a woman who had appeared to have her hands full with a baby, two young children and a whole lot of hand luggage. Of course, the moment the sniffer dogs singled him out for special attention, the woman and her children evaporated into thin air.

He had tried to explain this to the judge in his super-fast-track case, which had so far lasted less than 45 minutes, but the prosecution had countered by pointing out that it would take a very stupid person indeed to be suckered into carrying anything through a security checkpoint for a stranger - especially in this modern post-9/11 world. They had also pointed out that back home in Nottingham, Maxwell was a police officer. A security expert, who could never be as naïve as he was now pretending to be. Maxwell's only counter-argument to that had been, "Appearances can be deceptive". The Judge had given him the strangest look when he said that.

No, things were certainly not going well for him in this case. His only witness had been a British passenger who had seemed a bit drunk during her testimony. She admitted she had seen the woman hand the instrument to Maxwell, but added that they appeared to be travelling together. Again, Maxwell's defence was, "Appearances can be deceptive".

He remembered with irony the first time he had actually heard the expression "Appearances can be deceptive". It was in the eighties. He was a teenager going through a punk rock phase. He wore nothing but black, had multiple body piercings and was always playing with a scary-looking flip-knife. All the kids in school were afraid of him and steered well clear. One afternoon when he was enjoying some peace and quiet behind the boat shed, listening to Grateful Dead on his walkman, he heard a commotion. Three kids were bullying a foreign student. They were about to throw the little kid into the river, and the poor boy kept crying, "Please! Please, I can't swim!"

Maxwell intervened. At first, the three bullies wanted to fight it out, but Maxwell was a good three inches taller than the tallest of them. Plus, he had his knife, and he made them believe he was happy to use it. So they dropped the little foreign boy and went off to find a new victim. Maxwell asked the relieved kid if he was alright. The boy adjusted his glasses, looked at Maxwell for a long moment and said, "Appearances can be deceptive".

"Why do you say that?" Maxwell asked.

"Well, everybody thinks you're scary. Some kids even said you stabbed a teacher once. You're the last person I'd have expected to come to my aid. But thank you for doing so. I would have drowned if you hadn't. In Thailand where I come from, you owe the person who saves your life an eternal debt which you spend the rest of your life paying back. My name is Tran Pack, and I will never forget what you did for me." With that, he shook Maxwell's hand and ran off.

Back in the Bangkok courtroom, Maxwell allowed himself a wry smile as he recalled that childhood episode. Thirty years after he saved a Thai kid's life, he was now a 45-year old policeman, about to spend the rest of his own life in a Thai prison, all because appearances can be deceptive. He snapped out of his reflections as the judge banged his gavel three times. It was time for the verdict.

And that's where I'll end the first story. Here's the second story.

Judge Tran Pack could not believe his eyes when Maxwell Morrison walked into his courtroom. Thirty two years had not done much to change his appearance, so Tran recognised him at once. He listened patiently for 45 minutes and then banged his gavel three times before giving the verdict. "Mr Morrison, appearances can indeed be deceptive. Not guilty. You're free to go."

And that is the end of the second story.

My people, I know I don't need to say much more about the lessons from these two stories. As you live your lives, please take every opportunity to do something unforgettable for someone who can't pay you back today. They'll pay you back tomorrow with interest.

Kindness is not a debt you pay, but an investment you make.

Flower Pots

When my husband calmly announced that, after eleven years of marriage, he had filed for a divorce and was moving out, my first thought was for my children.

My son was just five, and my daughter, four. Could I held us together and give them a sense of “family”? Could I, as a single parent, maintain our home and teach them the ethics and values I knew they would need in life? All I knew was that I had to try.

So every Sunday, we attended church. During the week, I made time to review their homework with them, and we often discussed why it was important to do the right things. This took time and energy when I had little to spare, and worse, it was hard to tell if was really reaching them.

One Mother’s Day, two years after the divorce, as we walked into church, I noticed carts of beautiful flowers in little pots on either side of the altar. During the service, the pastor told us that he thought motherhood was one of the toughest jobs in life, and deserved recognition and reward. He then asked every child to come forward to pick out a beautiful flower and present it to their mother as a symbol of how much they were loved and appreciated.

My son and daughter, hand in hand, went up the aisle with the other children. Together they considered which plant to bring back to me. We had certainly survived some hard times, and this little bit of appreciation was just what I needed. I looked at the beautiful begonias, the golden marigolds and purple pansies, and started planning where I could plant whichever one they chose for me, for surely they would bring me a beautiful bloom to show their love.
 

My children took their assignment seriously, and looked over every pot on all the carts. Long after the other children had returned to their seats, and presented the other mothers with a beautiful potted flower, my two were still making their selection. Finally, with a joyful exclamation, they made their selection from the back of one of the carts. With exuberant smiles lighting their faces, they proudly proceeded down the aisle to where I was seated and presented me with the plant they had chosen as their Mother’s Day gift of appreciation.

I stared in amazement at the broken, bedraggled, sickly looking stick being held out to me by my son. Mortified, I accepted the pot from him. They had obviously chosen the smallest, sickest plant—it didn’t even have a bloom on it. Looking down at their smiling faces, I saw their pride in this choice, and knowing how long it took them to choose this particular plant, I smiled and accepted their gift.

But then I had to ask—out of all those beautiful flowers — what had made them pick this particular plant to give to me?

With great pride, my son said, “this one looked like it needed you, Mom,” As tears flowed down my face, I hugged both children close. They had just given me the greatest Mother’s Day gift I could ever have imagined. My hard work and sacrifices had not been in vain—they would grow up just fine.
 

As we grow older, life experiences cloud our judgment, and circumstances create bias. We have earned our years, and we think that we understand the ways of the world.

But when you think you have everything figured out, something will happen to catch you off guard, and surprise you in a profound way.

This mother almost had her heart broken. But her beloved children understood that the power of a mother’s love can turn a dying plant into a blossoming seed of life.