Some Favorite Stories

Duke Mu of Chin said to Po Lo: “You are now advanced in years. Is there any member of your family whom I could employ to look for horses in your stead?”

Po Lo replied: “A good horse can be picked out by its general build and appearance. But the superlative horse, one that raises no dust and leaves no tracks, is something evanescent and fleeting, elusive as thin air. The talents of my sons lie on a lower plane altogether; they can tell a good horse when they see one, but they cannot tell a superlative horse. I have a friend, however, one Chiu-fang Kao, a hawker of fuel and vegetables, who in things appertaining to horses is nowise my inferior. Pray see him.”

Duke Mu did so, and subsequently dispatched him on the quest for a steed. Three months later, he returned with the news that he had found one. “It is now in Shach’iu,” he added. “What kind of a horse is it?” asked the Duke. “Oh, it is a dun-colored mare,” was the reply.

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However, someone being sent to fetch it, the animal turned out to be a coal-black stallion! Much displeased, the Duke sent for Po Lo. “That friend of yours,” he said, “whom I commissioned to look for a horse, has made a fine mess of it. Why, he cannot even distinguish a beast’s color or sex! What on earth can he know about horses?”

Po Lo heaved a sigh of satisfaction. “Has he really got as far as that?” he cried. “Ah, then he is worth ten thousand of me put together. There is no comparison between us. What Kao keeps in view is the spiritual mechanism. In making sure of the essential, he forgets the homely details; intent on the inward qualities, he loses sight of the external. He sees what he wants to see, and not what he does not want to see. He looks at the things he ought to look at, and neglects those that need not be looked at.

So clever a judge of horses is Kao, that he has it in him to judge something better than horses.” When the horse arrived, it turned out indeed to be a superlative animal.

A king decided to visit his minister of state. On arriving at his house the king was informed that the minister was meditating, and had left instructions not to be disturbed under any conditions. The king accepted this, and said he and his guards would wait.

After a short while the minister entered the room, and apologized to the king, saying his Guru had given him a special mantra to do that day. The king, impressed with the glowing look on the minister’s face as well as the sense of inner peace he radiated, asked the minister to give him the mantra so he could also benefit from it.

“I cannot,” replied the minister, “only my Guru has the authority to give you this mantra, if I gave it to you, you would not get the same results from it as I did.”

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“That doesn’t make sense,” said the king. “You know the mantra. I can’t see why if you give it to me I would not get the same results.”

The minister thought for a few moments then looked at the king’s guard and shouted, “the king is impertinent, arrest him at once!” The guards did not move. The minister again shouted, “guards, arrest the king!” Again the guards just stood there. Once more the Minister asked the guards to arrest the king. Still they did not move.

The king, now very angry, shouted,“I’ll show you who’s impertinent, guards arrest the minister.” The guards immediately took the minister into custody.

At this point the minister smiled, and said to the king; “You see, no matter how many times I asked them to arrest you, they would not, because I do not have that authority, yet one word from you and it was done. It is exactly the same with the mantra.”

There was a terrible blizzard, and it snowed and snowed all weekend. Sunday morning the Pastor saw the snow had reached his window. Thinking nobody would come to church that morning, he still felt obliged to go anyway. The pastor fought through the icy wind and snow to get just next door to the church. He waited in the sanctuary, reading for ten minutes.

He was about to go when the door opened, and one congregant staggered through. “Hello!” said the pastor. “Church will have to be cancelled today—you’re the only one who has come.” The man replied,” Reverend, if you had a big herd of sheep, and only one came home that night to feed, would you still feed him?” The pastor was amazed and cried,” Yes! Of course I would!” He then was filled with the spirit, and decided to preach the best sermon ever.

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He talked and talked about all of life’s trials and joys. He referred to passages from Genesis to Job, Psalms to John, Acts to Revelation. He did so with excitement and conviction for a long time. When the minister finished, he went down and talked to his sole congregant. “Did that satisfy you, sir?” he asked happily. The man replied, “Reverend, if you had a herd of sheep and only one came home that night to feed, would you make sure he ate the whole bale of hay?”

One day while the Buddha was teaching his disciples, a woman approached. Refusing to accept her baby’s death, she carried its body in her arms. “Can you perform a miracle, and bring my baby back to life,” she asked the Buddha?

“Certainly,” the Buddha replied, “but first, I’ll need you to find me some mustard seed from a house that has never known death.”

The woman went from house to house in the village, becoming more and more frustrated unable to find that special kind of mustard seed. In time, she began to realize no one had escaped the touch of death. This realization brought her to her senses, and she understood what the Buddha was showing her. After burying her child she returned to became a disciple. The miracle was performed, but it wasn’t the baby brought back to life—it was the woman.

A Master noticed that all of his older disciples, sitting around a table, were having a very animated discussion. He called one of them over, and asked, ”What are all of you discussing so passionately?”

The disciple answered, “We’re trying to understand whether we’ve reached the level at which the devil has finally stopped chasing us.”

“No, no,” said the master. “You are not that advanced yet; you are still chasing him!”

One of the monks in a monastery was well known for his extreme zeal and effort. Day and night he would sit in meditation, and days would pass before he would eat or sleep. As time passed he grew thinner and more and more exhausted. During meditation, he often nearly drifted off to sleep. The master finally advised him to slow down, but the monk refused to listen, and drove himself even harder. Finally the master asked, “Why are you rushing so? Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I am after enlightenment,” replied the monk. “There is no time to waste.”

“And how do you know,” asked the master, “that enlightenment is running out in front of you, so that you must chase it? What if enlightenment is coming up from behind, and all you need to do is simply stand still? If that’s true, then you are actually running away from it!”

A man walking in the forest saw a fox who had lost its legs. He wondered how it could live, but then saw a tiger arrive with game in his mouth. The tiger ate his fill, then left the rest of the meat for the fox. The next day God fed the fox by means of the same tiger.

The man wondered at God’s greatness, and said to himself, “I too shall just rest in a corner, with full trust in the Lord, and he will provide.” He did this for many days, but nothing happened. He was almost at death’s door when he heard a voice say, “O you who are in the path of error, open your eyes to the truth! Stop imitating the disabled fox, and follow the example of the tiger.”

Once upon a time a poor unfortunate man lived with his mother, his wife, and his six children in a one-room hut. Because they were so crowded, the children often fought, and the man and his wife argued. When the poor man couldn’t stand it any longer, he ran to the Rabbi for help. He explained the situation.

The rabbi thinks for moment, then asks, “Do you have chickens?” “Yes, I have 6 chickens,” says the farmer. “Bring them into the house,” says the rabbi. The farmer is confused, but knows the rabbi is very wise. So he goes home, and brings all the chickens to live in the house with the family. Now it’s still crowded and noisy, but even worse, with the clucking, and pecking, and flapping of wings.

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The farmer goes back to the rabbi. “I did what you said, Rabbi. But with the chickens, now it’s even worse in the house.” The rabbi thinks for moment. Then he asks, “Do you have any goats?” “Yes, I have two goats,” says the farmer. “Bring them into the house,” says the rabbi.
The farmer is confused, but knows the rabbi is very wise. He brings the goats from the barn to live in the house. It doesn’t solve the problem. In fact, it is much worse, with the chickens clucking and flapping their wings, and the goats bleating, butting their heads against everything. and chewing the furniture.

The next day, the farmer goes back to the rabbi. “I did what you said, Rabbi. My mother has no place to sleep because the chickens have taken her bed. The goats are sticking their heads into everything and making a lot of noise.” The rabbi thinks. He looks very puzzled. Then he says, “Aha! You must have some sheep.” “Yes, I have sheep,” says the farmer. “Bring them into the house,” says the rabbi.

The farmer knows the rabbi is very wise. So he brings his six sheep inside. this doesn’t solve his problem—in fact, it is much, much worse. The chickens are clucking and flapping their wings, the goats are bleating and butting their heads. The sheep are baa-ing, too, and one sat on the farmer’s eyeglasses and broke them. The house is loud and crazy and it is starting to smell like a barn.

Completely exasperated, the farmer goes back to the rabbi. “Rabbi,” he says, “I have followed your advice. I have done everything you said. Now none of us has a place to sleep because the chickens are laying eggs in our beds. The goats are bleating and butting their heads, and the sheep are breaking things. The house smells like a barn.” The rabbi frowned. He closed his eyes and thought for a long time. Finally he said, “This is what you do. Take the sheep back to the barn. Take the goats back to the barn. Take the chickens back to their coop.”

The farmer ran home and did exactly as the rabbi had told him. As he took the animals out of the house, his children and wife and mother began to tidy up the house. By the time the last chicken was settled in her coop, the house looked quite nice. And, it was quiet. All the family agreed their home was the most spacious, peaceful, and comfortable home anywhere.

One day it was discovered on a remote island in the Caspian Sea a monastery that had been out of touch with the main body of the Eastern Church for as long as anyone could remember. Consequently, the Church sent an emissary to the island to make sure the monks still adhered to the correct forms and prayers.

He found the monks sincere and especially devout, but their prayers were often in the wrong order. After showing them all their errors, and teaching them correct practices, he felt satisfied he’d put them on the right path.

The next day leaving by boat, he stood by the rail thinking about the good job he had done showing them the way. He suddenly heard a shout, and looking up he couldn’t believe his eyes. One of the monks was running on top of the water towards the boat.

When the monk reached the boat, and caught his breath, he asked the priest, “Sir, we are confused about one of the things you told us. Did you say we should do the morning prayers at 6:00 AM or at 7:00?”

A monk while journeying along the back roads met Krishna. Recognizing him, and after receiving permission he asked, “Krishna, if I loved you with all my heart, how many incarnations will it take me to reach enlightenment?”

Krishna looked at him, in him, through him, weighed his future and his past, and replied, “If you loved me with all your heart, It will take you seven incarnations to reach enlightenment.”

The monk then asked; “If instead of loving you, I hated you with all my heart. How many incarnations will it take then?”

Krishna replied, “then it will take you only three incarnations.”

“But why would it be shorter,” asked the monk?

“Because,” replied Krishna, “you would always have me in your mind.”

A disciple asked his superior why their teacher did not believe extended fasting was spiritually beneficial.

The superior replied their Guru said mortification of the body not only weakened it, but could also interfere with the kind of intense meditation they practiced.

The disciple responded that he had heard their Guru had actually fasted when he was younger, and asked if that was true.

“Yes”, answered the superior, “but here’s an example of fasting he did. When our Guru went into seclusion to meditate for six days, he would take a bag filled with six loaves of bread to provide him sustenance. At the end of the six days, he would pick up that same bag, and be surprised to find it so heavy. Looking inside he saw the six loaves of bread were still there. This kind of fasting is allowed.”

A monk was spending the night by a fire, when a beggar approached and asked if he could sit by the fire until he got warm. The monk not only agreed, but invited him to spend the night, and gave him half his dinner as well. Read More…

The next morning, when the monk insisted that the beggar eat the last remaining food, the beggar transformed into the god Shiva, who was traveling the earth at that time in that disguise and said; “ Since you were so kind to me last night and this morning I will grant you one wish.”

The monk overwhelmed, timidly asked, “would you answer any question I asked?”

“Anything you like,” replied Shiva.

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The monk, after taking a few minutes to think said, “I would like to know how long it will take me to achieve enlightenment?”

Shiva hesitated for a while, then pointed to a very large and spreading banyan tree, filled with thousands of leaves. Sadly he said, “If every leaf on that tree represented a lifetime that’s how long it will take you to achieve enlightenment.”

Hearing that, the monk fell to his knees and began to weep tears of joy, thanking Shiva for giving him such wonderful news.

Shiva, astonished, said, “I don’t understand, every time in the past that I had to answer that question the results were devastating, and the person went away sad and depressed. Why are you so happy?”

The monk looked up at Shiva with a glowing face and replied, “for such a precious thing—such a short time.”

A monk kept praying to God, “Lord, when will you forgive me my sins.” For years this was the basis of all of his prayers. Over and over he repeated this prayer, “Oh Lord, when will you forgive my sins.” Finally, one day he heard the voice of God reply, “When you stop committing them.”

A young man who had bitter disappointments in life went to a remote monastery, and said to the master, “I am disillusioned with life, and wish to attain enlightenment. I need to be freed from these sufferings. But I have no capacity for sticking long to anything. I could never endure long years of meditation, study and austerity. I would relapse and be drawn back to the world again, painful though I know it to be. Is there any short way for people like me?”

“There is,” said the master, if you are really determined. Tell me what have you studied, what have you concentrated on most of your life?”

“Why nothing really, replied the young man. We were rich and I did not have to work. I suppose the thing I was most interested in was the game of chess. I spent most of my time at that.”

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The master thought for a moment, and then wrote a name on a slip of paper. He handed it to his attendant he said, “Call this monk, and tell him to bring a chessboard and men.”

The monk soon arrived with the board, and the master set up the pieces. He then sent for a sword and showed it to the two. “Oh monk,” he said, you have vowed obedience to me as your master, and now I require it of you. You will play a game of chess with this youth, and if you lose I will cut off your head with this sword, but I promise that you will be reborn in the Pure Land. If you win, I shall cut off the head of this man—chess is the only thing he has tried hard at, and if he loses he deserves to lose his head also.”

They looked at the master’s face, and saw that he meant it—he would cut off the head of the loser. They began to play. With the opening moves the youth felt sweat trickling down to his heels, as he played for his life. The chessboard soon became the whole world; he was entirely concentrated on it.

At first he had somewhat the worst of it, but then the other made an inferior move, and he seized his chance to launch a strong attack. As his opponent’s position crumbled, he looked covertly at him. He saw a face of intelligence and sincerity, worn with years of austerity and effort. He thought of his own worthless life, and a wave of compassion came over him. He deliberately made a blunder, and then another blunder, ruining his position, and leaving himself defenseless.

The master suddenly leaned forward and upset the board. The two contestants sat stupefied. “There is no winner and no loser,” said the master slowly.“There is no head to fall here.”

Turning to the young man he said, “only two things are required—complete concentration and compassion. Today you have learned them both. You were completely concentrated on the game, but then in that concentration you could feel real compassion, and sacrifice your life for it. Now stay here and pursue our training in this spirit, and your awakening is assured.

A man who lived in the same town as Rabbi Zusya saw that he was very poor. So each day he put twenty coins into the little bag Zusya kept his phylacteries in, so that his family could buy the necessities of life. From then on, the man grew richer and richer. The more he had, the more he gave Zusya, and the more he gave Zusya, the more he had.

But once, recalling that Zusya was the disciple of a great maggid, it occurred to him that if what he gave the disciple was so lavishly rewarded, he might become even more prosperous if he gave to the master himself. So he traveled to Mezritch, and persuaded Rabbi Baer to accept a substantial gift from him. From then on, his fortunes shrank, until he’d lost all the profits he’d made during the more fortunate period.

He took his trouble to Rabbi Zusya, told him the story, and asked what his present predicament was due to. For had not the Zusya himself said his master was immeasurably greater than he?

Zusya replied, “Look! As long as you gave, and didn’t bother to whom, God gave to you, and did not bother to whom. But when you began to seek out especially noble, and distinguished recipients, God did exactly the same.”

Beside the devout and prayerful seeker, passed the crippled, the beggars and the beaten. Seeing them all, the holy one, from a state of deep prayer, cried out, “Great God, how is it that a loving creator can see such things, and yet do nothing about them?”

And out of the long silence, God said: “I did do something about them. I made you.”

A guy named Joe found himself in dire trouble. His business had gone bust, and he was in serious financial trouble. He was so desperate he decided to ask God for help. He prayed, “God, please help me, I’ve lost my business and if I don’t get some money, I’m going to lose my house as well, please let me win the lottery.”

Lottery night came and somebody else won it. Joe again prayed… “God, please let me win the lottery! I’ve lost my business, my house and I’m going to lose my car as well.” Lottery night came and Joe still had no luck.

Once again, he prayed… “My God, why have you forsaken me? I’ve lost my business, my house, and my car. My wife and children are starving. I don’t often ask you for help, and I have always been a good servant to you. Please, just let me win the lotto this one time so I can get my life back in order…”

Suddenly there was a blinding flash of light as the heavens opened and Joe was confronted by the voice of God himself: “Joe, meet me half way on this one… buy a ticket!”

In a faraway land at the foot of a sacred mountain in the town of Agora, there lived a very unusual man named Amos. What made him so unusual was that though outwardly he seemed a poor and simple cobbler, he also led a secret life. By day Amos worked meticulously at his craft, but at night he would find his way to a cave on the side of the mountain, where he had built an altar to God. There Amos would spend the night in prayer and devotion until he fell asleep in exhaustion.

One night after praying even more intensely than usual and then falling into a deep sleep, a strange event occurred. A voice that seemed to come from the depths of the mountain itself spoke to him: “Amos, I have decided to send you the spiritual travelers who have dedicated themselves to developing their souls and joining me. They will take on the difficult task of climbing the sacred mountain. This journey requires boots of a very special quality. Not only do they need a leather that only I can supply, but also a cobbler who is in the service of God. Because of your piety as well as your craftsmanship I have decided to make you my cobbler.”

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Upon awakening, and while thinking what a strange dream, Amos suddenly noticed near the mouth of the cave a small bundle of leather. It was of a type he had never seen before, supple and fine, almost alive. He suddenly realized the voice was not a dream, as once again it filled the cave: “Amos, each time you find this leather, you will know that one of my travelers will soon appear. To continue their journey, they will need these boots. I promise you if you serve me well, you will be rewarded well.”

Excitedly, Amos returned to his shop with the leather, and began to make a new pair of boots. He found that the properties of the leather that made it special also made it extremely difficult to work. He had to devise many ingenious ways to craft the boots. They required such efforts of time and attention that he wasn’t able to make the fashionable lady’s shoes or sturdy farmer’s boots that the villagers wanted. Despite becoming poorer, he was content, and from time to time one of the travelers would appear to purchase a pair of his special boots, thus providing him with just enough money to meet his needs. Though he remained a man of modest means, his reputation as a special bootmaker spread far and wide. This was his life for many years.

One day the Devil appeared in Amos’ shop, disguised as a leather merchant. “Amos, I’ve heard of your work. Your reputation has traveled far,” he said, as he picked up a pair of the special boots. “And I see you certainly deserve it. These boots are very supple, very well-made. What is your secret?”

“It’s the leather,” said Amos. “It not only looks good, but it also gives a special quality to the boots.”

The merchant replied, “That’s very interesting. I’d like to buy some. How much do you want for this leather?”

“It’s not for sale,” said Amos. “I’ve only enough left for one pair of boots, and someone will be coming for them soon.”

“I’m sure you could part with some,” said the merchant.

“No,” replied Amos, “it’s not mine to sell.”

“Not even one small piece?” asked the merchant.

“Absolutely not,” answered Amos.

“Hmmmm,” said the merchant. “I would like to buy a piece. You don’t want to sell. I see we’re at an impasse. I’ll tell you what—to resolve this why don’t we play a harmless little game?”

The merchant took out a pair of dice. “If you win, you can have my entire cartload of all of my fine leathers. If I win, just give me one small piece of your special leather. What’s the risk? It’s little enough. Look at your hands. You’ve worked hard all of your life. Think of it—if you win, you get all this fine leather. And besides, you also deserve to have a little fun.”

At this moment, a strange excitement began to fill Amos at the prospect of an unexpected windfall. He thought to himself, “It’s true. I’ve worked hard for a long time. And besides, if I should lose, I can always substitute a small piece of ordinary leather for part of the boot. No one will ever know. And after all, it’s only a game.” With that, he gave his consent, and the merchant placed the pair of dice in Amos’ hands. He rolled, and on the very first cast, Amos won all of the merchant’s stock.

During the following week with the leather he had won, Amos began to make boots for the townspeople. These boots became surprisingly popular. As the supply of leather diminished, he secretly wondered if he would ever see the merchant again. But it was only a short time before the merchant reappeared.

As the merchant entered the shop, Amos felt the same sense of excitement he had felt before. The scene replayed itself, and again Amos won the merchant’s entire stock. The shoes made with the merchant’s leather kept on selling well. This scene was repeated many times in the following months. Amos continued to win, but now he also began to lose. And more and more often was required to part with a piece of the special leather. As his passion for the game grew, Amos even started to neglect crafting the boots for the travelers. Now his prayers, instead of just coming from the heart, also came from the desire to get more of the special leather in order to play the game.

One day Amos received a message from the merchant that he would not be coming to Agora for a while. At first the news did not bother him, but after a few days, he became increasingly uneasy, and realized that he missed the excitement of the game even more than he missed the merchant’s leather. After a few more days his uneasiness became unbearable, and he set out for the merchant’s village. Although arriving tired and bone-weary, Amos had such a passion for the game that it would not let him rest until he found the merchant’s house. Finally late that night, he rang the merchant’s bell.

“What are you doing here?” asked the merchant.

I’ve come to play the game,” Amos replied anxiously.

“Why not come back tomorrow, when you are rested?” advised the merchant.

“No, I want to play the game now,” demanded Amos.

“Well, if you must, come on in,” said the merchant, with a sly smile on his face.

Time passed. A year later, while making one of his now frequent trips to the merchant’s village, Amos passed an old woman sitting by the side of the road. Apparently she had fallen off her donkey and had hurt her leg. She asked him to stop and help her, but all Amos could say in his impatience to get to the merchant’s village was, “Don’t bother me. I’m in too big of a rush. Someone else will pass by soon.”

As he hurried along the road, Amos suddenly stopped, shocked by a deep realization of what he had become. “My God, what has happened to me?” he asked himself. “I would always help anyone who was in need. I used to love to work and to pray. Now look at me. All I live for is to play the game. All the money I’ve earned is not making me happy, and I now have neither the time nor enough of the special leather to make the boots God asked of me.”

At this moment, Amos began to suspect who the merchant really was. After going back to help the woman, he continued on his way to the merchant’s village. Arriving at the merchant’s house and confronting him, Amos shouted, “finally I know who you are. You are not really a merchant of leather, you are the Devil himself.”

The merchant laughed and said, “Amos, I see you have found me out. Now at last I can show you my real face.” With a flash, the Devil appeared in his true form.

Amos cried bitterly, “Don’t you realize what you have done? I was doing God’s work. Aren’t you afraid that God will be angry with you ?”

The devil smiled. “Angry with me? I doubt it. And besides who do you think sent me to you?”

“What do you mean?” asked Amos incredulously.

“Amos, haven’t you figured it out yet? Don’t you know, I also do God’s work,” replied the Devil.

Stunned and shocked, Amos stumbled into the street and somehow found his way back to the cave. Falling to his knees, he cried in agony, “Lord, why have you done this to me, why? I thought you loved me.” Ignoring his business, for many days and nights he stayed and prayed in the cave with an intensity he had never experienced before.

Time went by. One morning after praying through the night he fell into a deep sleep and in his sleep, he again heard God’s voice: “Amos, I do love you. After I made you my cobbler, you served me so well that I felt it was now your turn to climb the sacred mountain. But I saw that even your dedication and sincerity would not be enough to carry you past the obstacles that you would meet along the way. Every time you prayed in the cave I sent an angel to give you an example of what would be needed, but you were always so busy praying that you never heard. I finally had to send the Devil. He showed you, in his way, the intensity of desire necessary for your journey

Amos awoke, and although a look of understanding passed over his face, a feeling of sadness began to spread through his whole being. “Is it too late?” he asked himself. “I wonder what will become of me now? Will God ever forgive me?”

But as Amos looked up he saw that at the mouth of the cave there was a small bundle of the special leather–just enough for one more pair of boots.

A Jewish grandmother takes her baby grandson to the ocean for the first time. For the occasion, she has dressed him in a smart little sailor outfit.

Without warning, a large wave folds over the young boy and swoops him out into the ocean. The grandmother looks up at the sky, “Please God, save my grandson. I will do anything if you return him to me. I will pray daily, I will volunteer weekly. Please God, I will do anything.”

In a flash, another wave hits the beach, and the grandson washes up on the sand.

The grandmother looks the boy over, then looks up at the sky and says, “He had a hat.”

In old Japan two towns existed; they had very different values, and were in constant judgement of one another. Once, two teenagers from the opposing villages fell in love, and the girl became pregnant. They couldn’t admit this to her family. So, she blamed it was a monk in the monastery on the hill overlooking their village. The family—and whole town—were enraged, and marched up to his small hermitage to express their horror at his actions.

The father shouted at the meditating monk, “You got my poor innocent daughter pregnant! How could you do this? Especially since you are a monk? What do you say for yourself?”

The monk was quiet for a while and replied, “Is that so?” and fell silent again.

The villagers were enraged at this, rebuked him, and returned to their homes. Months passed and the child was born. The girl’s family returned to the monk with the baby, and handed it to him. “Here, you raise the child!” said the girl’s father. “What do you say for yourself?”

“Is that so?” the monk said. He took the child in arms and became silent again. The family, again enraged, return home.

Years passed. The young woman who was his mother, upon seeing that her child had grown into a fine young man, was filled with remorse. She confessed the truth to her parents and to the entire village. Everyone was shocked, and immediately returned to the monk to apologize and seek forgiveness.

They told him the whole story. The monk again responded, “Is that so?”

A group of nuns were troubled by the pressures placed on them to constantly radiate “joy.”

“It’s too much,” one complained. “There is sorrow in our lives, as in all lives. How can we be ‘always joyful’?” Discussion only deepened the quandary.

Finally, Mother Superior spoke. “We can experience both joy and sorrow, even at the same time, for joy and sorrow are not opposites. It is not joy and sorrow, but their opposites, that cause damage, for the opposite of joy is cynicism and the opposite of sorrow is callousness. Cynicism is rooted in the assumption that everyone is always in control. Callousness is the inability to feel, which follows from the fear of losing control.”

Passing by a temple in a small village, a beggar, exhausted from a day of fruitless begging, went in to rest for a while. In a dim spot near the altar he sat quietly.

In time the village mayor entered, and knelt before the altar. He prayed, “Lord I need your help because our village has many problems. I know I am nothing. It is your voice that has to act through me. I myself am insignificant. Oh Lord, please help us in this time of need.” He then rose, and sat in a seat near the altar.

Then the village banker entered. He also knelt before the altar and prayed, “God, now is the time for your mercy to fall upon us. We face difficult times ahead, and I know that even though I will do all I can, I am really nothing. And it is not me, but you, that will act in me. You must act and help us, I know you will not desert us.” He then sat next to the mayor.

The beggar, watching and hearing all this, was touched. Before leaving he decided it would be good if he also prayed. So he, too, knelt before the altar, and began to pray, “Lord, help me, I know I am nothing…”

Overhearing this, the mayor nudged the banker, and whispered, “Hah! Look who thinks he’s nothing!”

A famous Christian monastery once attracted many visitors, as well as a constant stream of would-be acolytes. With time, however, disputes broke out among the brethren, and the the monastery’s image became tarnished. Fewer and fewer visitors came, and instead of acquiring new recruits, the monastery lost veteran monks. The situation went from bad to worse, until only five monks remained, and they could not agree on what to do next. One of them heard of a wise Jewish rabbi living nearby, and suggested they go to consult with him.

The rabbi listened to their stories about how past life in the monastery had been, and what it had come to. He pondered for a long time, the said:

“I don’t know what to tell you to help you solve your problem. The only thing I can say is that one of you is the savior—only one—but I don’t know which of you that is.”

The five monks returned to the monastery disappointed, because the rabbi could not tell them what to do. Still, since one of them was the savior, and it could be any one of them, they began to respect each other. This created a change for the better in the atmosphere. Visitors began to return, and their positive impressions encouraged more visitors to come. Not only did the monastery’s reputation begin to improve, but new acolytes were also attracted. Finally the monastery resumed its former glory.

Rabbi Abraham said: “I have learned a new form of service from the wars of Frederick, King of Prussia. It is not necessary to approach the enemy in order to attack him. In fleeing from him, it is possible to circumvent him as he advances, and fall on him from the rear until he is forced to surrender. What is needed is not to strike straight at Evil but to withdraw to the sources of divine power, and from there to circle around Evil, bend it, and transform it into its opposite.” —from Buber’s Tales of the Hasidim, Early Masters

Once, when Rabbi Pinhas entered the House of Study, he saw that his disciples, who had been talking busily, stopped and started at his coming. He asked them: “What were you talking about?”

“Rabbi,” they said, “we were saying how afraid we are that the Evil Urge will pursue us.” “Don’t worry,” he replied. “You have not gotten high enough for it to pursue you. For the time being, you are still pursuing it.” —from Buber’s Tales of the Hasidim, Early Masters

Rabbi Susya, an extremely wise and venerable man, lay on his death bed surrounded by family and disciples. Suddenly he sat straight up, and said; “I just had a vision in which I visited the world to come, and met all the great sages and saints from the past.

What surprised me was they didn’t ask, ‘Susya, why were you not more like Moses in your life?’ Their question was, ‘Susya, why were you not more like Susya in your life.’”

The only thing worse than beating a dead horse is saddling one. Dakota tribal wisdom says that when you discover you are riding a dead horse, the best strategy is to dismount.

However, in business other strategies with dead horses, include:

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1. Buying a stronger whip.
2. Changing riders.
3. Say things like: “This is the way we have always ridden this horse.”
4. Appointing a committee to study the horse.
5. Arranging to visit other sites to see how they ride dead horses.
6. Creating a training session to increase our riding ability.
7. Comparing the state of dead horses in today’s environment.
8. Change the requirements, declaring that: “This horse is not dead.”
9. Hire contractors to ride the dead horse.
10. Harnessing several dead horses together for increased speed.
11. Declaring that “No horse is too dead to beat.”
12. Providing additional funding to increase the horse’s performance.
13. Do a Cost Analysis study to see whether contractors can ride it cheaper.
14. Purchase a product to make dead horses run faster.
15. Declare the horse is “better, faster and cheaper” dead.
16. Form a committee to find uses for dead horses.
17. Promote the dead horse to a supervisory position.

A farmer who was a very devout man, and who had never missed a holy day at church, became trapped at home by a raging snow storm. Unfortunately this took place on an especially important holiday. No matter how hard the farmer tried he couldn’t travel the roads, as they were all impassable.

The next day arriving at church he told the priest that the evening before, not being a learned man, and not remembering which prayers were the right ones, he had gotten down on his knees and recited the alphabet over and over, asking God to put the letters in the right order.

“Were my prayers valid, or did I sin,” he asked the priest. “Not only did you not sin,” the priest replied, “but last night your prayers were more sincere than mine.”

In a monastery one evening, two monks sat quietly smoking cigarettes. One monk turned to the other and asked, “do you think it is right for us to be sitting here smoking during meditation?” “I don’t know,” said the second monk, “ why don’t you ask your superior and I’ll ask mine?”

They agreed, and the next day the first monk arrived to find the second monk sitting there with a cigarette in his hand. “How can you smoke that cigarette?” he remarked. “I asked my superior if it was all right to smoke while meditating, and he said absolutely not!”

“That’s interesting,” answered the second monk, “I asked mine if it was all right to meditate while smoking, and he said, ‘of course—meditate every chance you get.’”How Long Until Enlightenment

One day, a wise man traveling a mountain road encountered a merchant struggling to get his donkey—loaded with a large bundle of merchandise—to move. The merchant yelled and cursed repeatedly, but to no avail. The donkey stood steadfast.

The wise man watched for a while, then told the merchant, “That’s no way to get your donkey to move. You’re going about it all wrong. Don’t curse him, but encourage him. You must speak gently to him. Then he’ll do what you want.”

The frustrated merchant replied, “I’ll tell you what, If you think that will work, you try it, and we’ll see where that gets you.

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The wise man agreed. He went to the side of the road, and picked up a large beam of wood he found lying ground. Then he struck the donkey a powerful blow right between the eyes! “Wait a second,”said the merchant, completely astonished. “You said to speak gently to the donkey!”

“Yes, that’s true,” replied the wise man, “but first you have to get his attention!”

This Taoist story is the source for many vaudeville and comedy bits.

There was an old farmer who worked hard on his little farm. He never had much money, but he had one good horse, and a son who helped him. One day his horse ran away. His neighbor was upset, and commiserated with him about his bad luck. The farmer said, “What makes you think it is so bad?”

Weeks later, the horse trotted home–bringing with her two beautiful wild horses. The neighbor was excited, and congratulated the farmer on his good luck. The farmer said, “What makes you think it’s so good?”

The farmer’s son was thrown from one of the wild horses and broke his leg. His neighbor, once again upset, expressed sympathy for this bad luck. The farmer said, “What makes you think it is so bad?”

A war came, and every able-bodied man was conscripted and sent into battle. Only the farmer’s son, because he had a broken leg, remained. The neighbor was excited, and congratulated the farmer on his good luck. The farmer said, “What makes you think it’s so good?”

One of Archie Campbell’s versions…

Archie: Hey I guess you heard about my terrible misfortune. Roy: No, what happened?
Archie: Yeah, my great uncle died.
Roy: Oh that’s bad! Archie: No that’s good! Roy: How’s come?
Archie: Well, when he died, he left me 50,000 dollars.
Roy: Oh that’s good! Archie: No that’s bad! Roy: How come?
Archie: When the Internal Revenue got thru with it, all I had left was 25,000 dollars.
Roy: Oh that’s bad. Archie: No that’s good. Roy: How come
Archie: Well I bought me an airplane and learned to fly.
Roy: Well that’s good. Archie: No that’s bad. Roy: How come
Archie: Well I was flying upside down the other day and I fell outta the dern thing
Roy: Well that’s bad. Archie: No that’s good. Roy: How come
Roy: Well when I looked down under me and there was a great big ole haystack.
Roy: Well that’s good. Archie: No that’s bad. Roy: How come?
Archie: Well I got a little closer and I saw a pitchfork aimed right at me
Roy: Well that’s bad. Archie: No that’s good. Roy: How come
Archie: I missed the pitchfork
Roy: Well that’s good. Archie: No that’s bad. Roy: How come
Archie: I missed the haystack too.
Roy: Well that’s bad. Archie: No that’s good. Roy: How come?
Archie: Well I bounced around a few minutes and an ambulance come and took me to a hospital
Roy: Well that’s good. Archie: No that’s bad. Roy: How come?
Archie: Well I was in the hospital there for a while and I took a turn for the nurse.
Roy: That’s bad. Archie: No that’s good. Roy: How come?
Archie: Well my wife came in one day and caught me kissing this nurse
Oh that’s bad. No that’s good. Roy: How come?
Archie: She said if that was the way I was gonna act I could have that pretty nurse, she was gonna pack her clothes and go back home to momma.
Roy; Oh that’s good
Archie: You’re dern right that’s good.

A Sufi was at home one day when his friend, Abdullah, ran in.

“You must lend me 50 kopeks immediately,” he said. “I was just in a café in the market place when I suddenly saw the angel of death. He stared straight at me! I’m sure he’s come to take me, so I need to leave the city immediately. I’m going to Medina—I’m sure that’s far enough away, and I’ll be safe there. You must loan me the money for the fare.”

The Sufi gave him the money, and after his friend’s departure, thought, “I’ve never seen the angel of death. It might be possible to meet him, and even learn something from him.”

So, he put on his coat, and went to the market place, hoping the angel of death was still there. After a while the Sufi found him sitting at a table in a café. After introducing himself the Sufi asked, “Are you really the angel of death?” Upon receiving an affirmative reply, the Sufi asked if he could speak with him for a while.

“I’m sorry,” said the angel of death, “but I have to leave right now. I have an appointment in Medina this afternoon with a man named Abdullah.”

There was one great master, a Buddhist master, Nagarjuna. A thief came to him. The thief had fallen in love with the master because he had never seen such a beautiful person, such infinite grace. He asked Nagarjuna, “Is there some possibility of my growth also? But one thing I must make clear to you: I am a thief. And another thing: I cannot leave it, so please don’t make it a condition. I will do whatsoever you say, but I cannot stop being a thief. That I have tried many times—it never works, so I have left the whole sport. I have accepted my destiny, that I am going to be a thief and remain a thief, so don’t talk about it. From the very beginning let it be clear.”

Nagarjuna said, “Why are you afraid? Who is going to talk about your being a thief? The thief said, “But whenever I go to a monk, to a religious priest, or to a religious saint, they always say, ‘First stop stealing.'” Nagarjuna laughed and said, “Then you must have gone to thieves; otherwise, why? Why should they be concerned? I am not concerned!” The thief was very happy. He said, “Then it is okay. It seems that now I can become a disciple. You are the right master.”

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Nagarjuna accepted him and said, “Now you can go and do whatsoever you like. Only one condition has to be followed: be aware! Go, break into houses, enter, take things, steal; do whatsoever you like, that is of no concern to me, I am not a thief—but do it with full awareness.” The thief couldn’t understand that he was falling into the trap. He said, “Then everything is okay. I will try.” After three weeks he came back and said, “You are tricky—because if I become aware, I cannot steal. If I steal, awareness disappears. I am in a fix.”

Nagarjuna said, “No more talk about your being a thief and stealing. I am not concerned; I am not a thief. Now, you decide! If you want awareness, then you decide. If you don’t want it, then too you decide.” The man said, “But now it is difficult. I have tasted it a little, and it is so beautiful—I will leave anything, whatsoever you say. Just the other night for the first time I was able to enter the palace of the king. I opened the treasure. I could have become the richest man in the world—but you were following me, and I had to be aware. When I became aware, diamonds looked just like stones, ordinary stones. When I lost awareness, the treasure was there. And I waited and did this many times. I would become aware, and I became like a buddha, and I could not even touch it because the whole thing looked foolish, stupid—just stones, what am I doing? Losing myself over stones? But then I would lose awareness; they would become again beautiful, the whole illusion. But finally I decided that they were not worth it.”

At the time of Sultan Mahmud of Ghazna there lived a young man by the name of Haidar Ali Jan. His father, Iskandar Khan, decided to obtain for him the patronage of the Sultan, and he sent him to study spiritual matters under the greatest sages of the time.

When Haidar Ali had mastered the repetitions, exercises, recitals, and the bodily postures of the Sufi schools, he was taken by his father into the presence of the Sultan. “Mighty Mahmud,” said Iskandar, “I have had this youth, my eldest and most intelligent son, specially trained in the ways of the Sufis, so that he might obtain a worthy position at your Majesty’s court, knowing that you are the patron of learning of our epoch.”

Mahmud did not look up, but he merely said, “Bring him back in a year.” Slightly disappointed, but nursing high hopes, Iskandar sent Haidar Ali to study the works of the great Sufis of the past, and to visit the shrines of the ancient masters in Baghdad, so that the intervening time would not be wasted.

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When he brought the youth back to the court, he said, “Peacock of the Age! My son has carried out long and difficult journeys, and at the same time to his knowledge of exercises he has added a complete familiarity with the classics of the People of the Path. Pray have him examined , so that it may be shown that he could be an adornment of your Majesty’s court.”

“Let him,” said Mahmud immediately, “return after another year.” During the next twelve months, Haidar Ali crossed the Amu Darya river and visited Bukhara and Samarqand, Qasr-i-Arifin and Tashkent, Dushambe and the turbats of the Sufi saints of Turkestan.

When he returned to the court, Mahmud of Ghazna took one look at him and said, “He may care to come back after a further year.” Haidar Ali made the pilgrimage to Mecca in that year. He travelled to India, and in Persia he consulted rare books and never missed an opportunity of
seeking out and paying his respects to the great dervishes of the time.

When he returned to Ghazna, Mahmud said to him, “Now select a teacher, if he will have you, and come back in a year.” When that year was over and Iskandar Khan prepared to take his son to the court, Haidar Ali showed no interest at all in going there. He simply sat at the feet of his teacher in Herat, and nothing that his father could say would move him. “I have wasted my time and my money, and this young man has failed the tests imposed by Mahmud the King ,” he lamented, and he abandoned the whole affair.

Meanwhile, the day when the youth was due to present himself came and went, and then Mahmud said to his courtiers, “Prepare yourselves for a visit to Herat, there is someone there whom I have to see,” As the Sultan’s horse-drawn carriages entered Herat to the flourish of trumpets, Haidar Ali’s teacher took him by the hand and led him to the gate of the tekkia, where they waited. Shortly afterwards Mahmud and his courtier Ayaz, taking off their shoes, presented themselves at the sanctuary.

“Here, Mahmud,” said the Sufi sheikh, “is the man who was nothing while he was a visitor of kings, but who is now one who is visited by kings. Take him as your Sufi counselor, for he is ready.”

In a faraway place and a long-ago time, there was once a rich man who gave all his money to the poor, joined a band of hermits, and went to live with them in the desert and worship God. One day the man was sent to town with another hermit to sell two donkeys that had grown old, and could no longer carry their burdens.

He stood in the marketplace, where shoppers looking for donkeys came. They asked if his were worth buying. “If they were worth buying, do you think we’d be selling them?” he replied. “And why do they have such ragged backs and tails?” he was asked. “Because they’re old and stubborn,” he said. “We have to pull their tails and thrash them to make them move.”

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Since there were no buyers for the donkeys, the man returned with them to the desert, where his companion told the other hermits what had happened. All of them demanded to know why he had frightened the buyers away. “Do you imagine for a moment,” he answered, “that I left home, gave everything away—all my camels and cattle and sheep and goats—in order to make a liar of myself for the sake of two old donkeys?”

A young couple was blessed with a healthy baby boy. He was unusually quiet, but all else was fine. After two years the child doesn’t speak, and the parents begin to worry about him. After three years he has not spoken, and by his fourth birthday he still has not uttered a word.

The couple figure he is never going to speak, but he is a lovely child, and on his fourth birthday they throw him a party, and make him a chocolate cake with orange icing.

The parents are in the kitchen when the little boy comes in and says, “Mother, Father, I do not like the orange icing on the chocolate cake.”

My god,” his mother says, “you can speak!”

To which the little boy replies, “Of course.”

How come you have never spoken before? “his father asks.

“Well,” the boy says, “up till now everything has been satisfactory.”

To a wise man everyone tells the truth. For example when asking two women, who were both 39, how old they were, the first replied with her age, the second claimed she was 29. To the wise man they were both telling the truth. The first woman told her age, the second said, “I’m afraid of growing old.”

A master traveling the back roads of India came to a small village, and decided to spend the night. The villagers were so hospitable and nice to him, that the next morning, while getting ready to leave, he said to them, “I am, in fact, a great magician. As you were so kind to me, I will grant you any wish, if it is within my powers to do so. Tell me, what do you want?”

The townspeople were overjoyed to hear this, as a very large snake was at that time biting many people, and terrorizing the village.

“Please great master,” they asked, “stop the snake from biting us.”

“Easily done,” the master said, and went off to find the snake.

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Upon finding the snake the master said, “You know I have power over all forms of life, and you must do my bidding.”

“Yes,” said the snake, “what is it you wish of me.”

“Well,” said the master, “from now on you are not to bite the people of this village. Will you take this vow?”

“Yes,” answered the snake, “I promise.”

The master traveled on, and about a year later found himself in the same area. Remembering the village, and their kindness, he returned to again spent the night there. In the morning he asked the villagers if they still had a problem with the snake. The villagers laughed, saying that since his last visit everything had been fine.

Upon leaving the master also decided to visit the snake, and went to find him. But no matter how hard he looked, there was no sign of him. Just about to give up searching, he heard a faint sound from behind a rock, so he looked. There was the snake, but now just a shadow of his former self. Bruised and beaten, he appeared to be at the door of death.

“How did you get into this terrible state?” asked the master. “What has happened to you?”

“You asked me not to bite the villagers,” replied the snake, “now they aren’t afraid of me. Whenever they see me they throw stones at me, and beat me with their clubs. All I can do now is hide.”

“You fool,” said the master, “I ordered you not to bite them, but I didn’t tell you not to hiss.”

A turtle, standing on the shore of a lake, was readying himself to cross. Just then a scorpion approached and begged, “I need to get across the lake—please let me hitch a ride on your back.”

Horrified, the turtle replied, “Are you crazy, you’re my mortal enemy! if I do that you’ll sting me, and I will die!”

“Think about it,” replied the scorpion. “If I sting you, you’ll sink, with me on your back—I’d drown and die too. Does it make sense that I would sting you?”

“Good point,” said the turtle. “Okay, get on my back, and I’ll take you across.”

The scorpion immediately hopped on, and the turtle swam out into the lake. But about halfway across, suddenly and without warning, the scorpion lashed out, and stung the turtle.

“How could you do such a stupid thing?” cried the turtle. “Now we will both die!”

“Alas,” the scorpion confessed, “I know, but I just couldn’t help myself. It’s my nature.”

One night two mice were playing on the rafters in a barn. Getting a little too excited and careless, they slipped and fell into a large bucket filled with milk. Swimming around desperately, they realized their situation was hopeless, and that they would never get out.

At this point one of the mice gave up, saying, “it’s useless to keep swimming, we have no chance.” He stopped struggling, sank and drowned.

The other mouse kept swimming though, until after one final stroke he passed out utterly exhausted. Later he awoke, and found himself lying on top of a bucket of butter.

A man who took great pride in his lawn found himself with large and recurring crops of dandelions. Although he tried every method he knew to get rid of them, they continued to plague him. Finally, in desperation, he wrote the Extension Service of the Agriculture Department of the State University, enumerating all the things he had tried and concluding with the question: “What shall I do now?”

After a somewhat prolonged time even for such correspondence, the reply finally came: “We suggest you learn to love them.”

A monk said to his teacher one day, “With great regret, I must leave the order. Recently I’ve thought about my life, and concluded that, since I am in my heart a sinner, there is really no hope for me to attain enlightenment. So it’s useless for me to go on.”

Smiling, the teacher replied; “Don’t you know that a saint is just a sinner who kept on trying?”

The devotee knelt to be initiated into discipleship. The guru whispered the sacred mantra into his ear, warning him not to reveal it to anyone. “What will happen if I do?” asked the devotee. Said the guru, “Anyone to whom you reveal the mantra will be liberated from the bondage of ignorance and suffering, but you yourself will be excluded from discipleship and suffer damnation.”

No sooner had he heard those words than the devotee rushed to the marketplace, collected a large crowd around him, and repeated the sacred mantra for all to hear. The disciples later reported this to the guru, and demanded that the man be expelled from the monastery for his disobedience. The guru smiled and said, “He has no need of anything I can teach. His action has shown him to be a guru in his own right.”

A Guru asked a monk why he’d come to him—what was his question? The monk replied, “I have been searching for God for many years with no results. I have heard from many that you know the way to him. Will you help me?”

“If that’s true, and you really wish to struggle to find God, I will do all I can to help,” replied the Guru.

“I will do whatever is needed,” said the monk.

After a long silence, the Guru spoke: “You will have to go live in the desert for one year. I will give you special exercises that you must practice every day without fail. But I warn you they are very difficult. Are you willing to do this?”

“If they will help me find God I will not fail to do them,” replied the seeker. He then went into the desert and returned after one year.

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Well, did you find God, asked the Guru? “No replied the monk, I don’t know why but he still eludes me.”

“Did you do the exercises exactly the way I gave them?” asked the Guru.

“Yes,” replied the monk, “Exactly and I still haven’t found God.”

“Well,” said the Guru, “this is a more difficult case than I thought. Look, do you see that mountain over there?” he said pointing to a very high peak in the distance. “At the top is a cave with a very special atmosphere. Certain monks have become enlightened there, leaving a very fine vibration that will help you in your quest. You must live in that cave for two years, practicing certain prayers and exercises which I will now show you. You must do these every four hours day and night during your retreat. Do you agree to do this?”

“If it will help me find God I will do as you ask,” replied the monk. He found the cave, and began practicing the prayers and exercises the Guru had given him. Two years finally passed, and again the monk returned and sat at the feet of his teacher.

“Did you find God this time?” asked the Guru.

“Again I’ve failed,” replied the monk despondently. I think there is no hope for me.

“Come with me” said the teacher. He lead the monk to the side of a nearby river. “Kneel down on the bank with your head close to the ground.”

The monk complied. Suddenly the Guru seized the monk’s head with both of his hands and thrust it beneath the water and held it there in a very tight grip. As seconds passed, each seemed longer and longer to the monk, who grew desperate for oxygen. Just as the monk could hold his breath no longer the guru pulled his head out of the water and asked, “A second ago while your head was in the water what did you wish for?”

“More than anything in the world I wished for air,” replied the monk.

“Well, when you want to find God that much,” said the Guru, “you won’t have to find him, he will find you.”

A serious man joins a certain monastery, in which monks take a strict vow of silence. However, every 10 years, each is allowed to break his silence, and speak two words to the abbot.

Ten years pass, and it’s the monk’s first audience with, and opportunity to speak to, the abbot. After a moment he says, “Food bad.” The abbot blesses, and then dismisses him.

Ten years later the same monk says, “Bed hard.” The abbot blesses, and then dismisses him.

Yet another decade later—now thirty years after the monk’s first vows—he again has an audience with the abbot. He says to the abbot, “I quit.”

“I’m not surprised,” the head monk says. “You’ve been complaining ever since you got here.”