THE MUSTARD SEED
THERE was a rich man who found his gold suddenly transformed into ashes; and he took to his bed and refused all food. A friend, hearing of his sickness, visited the rich man and learned the cause of his grief. And the friend said: “Thou didst not make good use of thy wealth. When thou didst hoard it up it was not better than ashes. Now heed my advice. Spread mats in the bazaar; pile up these ashes, and pretend to trade with them.” The rich man did as his friend had told him, and when his neighbors asked him, “Why sellest thou ashes?” he said: “I offer my goods for sale.”
After some time a young girl, named Kisa Gotami, an orphan and very poor, passed by, and seeing the rich man in the bazaar, said: “My lord, why pilest thou thus up gold and silver for sale?” And the rich man said: “Wilt thou please hand me that gold and silver?” And Kisa Gotami took up a handful of ashes, and lo! they changed back into gold. Considering that Kisa Gotami had the mental eye of spiritual knowledge and saw the real worth of things, the rich man gave her in marriage to his son, and he said: “With many, gold is no better than ashes, but with Kisa Gotami ashes become pure gold.”
And Kisa Gotami had an only son, and he died. In her grief she carried the dead child to all her neighbors, asking them for medicine, and the people said: “She has lost her senses. The boy is dead. At length Kisa Gotami met a man who replied to her request: “I cannot give thee medicine for thy child, but I know a physician who can.” The girl said: “Pray tell me, sir; who is it?” And the man replied: “Go to Sakyamuni, the Buddha.”
Kisa Gotami repaired to the Buddha and cried: “Lord and Master, give me the medicine that will cure my boy.” The Buddha answered: “I want a handful of mustard-seed.” And when the girl in her joy promised to procure it, the Buddha added: “The mustard-seed must be taken from a house where no one has lost a child, husband, parent, or friend.” Poor Kisa Gotami now went from house to house, and the people pitied her and said: “Here is mustard-seed; take it!” But when she asked Did a son or daughter, a father or mother, die in your family?” They answered her: “Alas the living are few, but the dead are many. Do not remind us of our deepest grief.” And there was no house but some beloved one had died in it.
Kisa Gotami became weary and hopeless, and sat down at the wayside, watching the lights of the city, as they flickered up and were extinguished again. At last the darkness of the night reigned everywhere. And she considered the fate of men, that their lives flicker up and are extinguished. And she thought to herself: “How selfish am I in my grief! Death is common to all; yet in this valley of desolation there is a path that leads him to immortality who has surrendered all selfishness.”
Putting away the selfishness of her affection for her child, Kisa Gotami had the dead body buried in the forest. Returning to the Buddha, she took refuge in him and found comfort in the Dharma, which is a balm that will soothe all the pains of our troubled hearts.
The Buddha said: “The life of mortals in this world is troubled and brief and combined with pain. For there is not any means by which those that have been born can avoid dying; after reaching old age there is death; of such a nature are living beings. As ripe fruits are early in danger of falling, so mortals when born are always in danger of death. As all earthen vessels made by the potter end in being broken, so is the life of mortals. Both young and adult, both those who are fools and those who are wise, all fall into the power of death; all are subject to death.
“Of those who, overcome by death, depart from life, a father cannot save his son, nor kinsmen their relations. Mark I while relatives are looking on and lamenting deeply, one by one mortals are carried off, like an ox that is led to the slaughter. So the world is afflicted with death and decay, therefore the wise do not grieve, knowing the terms of the world. In whatever manner people think a thing will come to pass, it is often different when it happens, and great is the disappointment; see, such are the terms of the world.
“Not from weeping nor from grieving will any one obtain peace of mind; on the contrary, his pain will be the greater and his body will suffer. He will make himself sick and pale, yet the dead are not saved by his lamentation. People pass away, and their fate after death will be according to their deeds. If a man live a hundred years, or even more, he will at last be separated from the company of his relatives, and leave the life of this world. He who seeks peace should draw out the arrow of lamentation, and complaint, and grief. He who has drawn out the arrow and has become composed will obtain peace of mind; he who has overcome all sorrow will become free from sorrow, and be blessed.”
Author: The Storyteller
When I was about 12 years old, I started to program on a little computer called the ZX81, an amazing machine that had just been released. It was the first really popular home computer and by today’s standards it was ridiculously limited. A modern computer has about 4 Gigabyes of RAM or more, and often has a hard disc of 1 Terabyte. In contrast, the ZX81 had the tiny RAM working memory of 1K and no hard disk at all.
Now, a RAM of 1K is tiny, so small that the computer had to compile each line of code as you entered it. On a modern computer, you would enter all the statements of the code and then compile it using today’s enormous RAM. You only know that you have made a mistake in your syntax when you compile it.
On the ZX81, if you made a syntax error in a statement, the computer told you as soon as you pressed the Enter key! And it told you very clearly with a big “SYNTAX ERROR” message.
Life is like that, too, you know. You always get immediate feedback, even if you don’t notice it at the time. When you really begin to notice the feedback that you get after each step, you’ll realize that those things that used to seem to be limits were actually not so limiting at all.
I loved that old computer. It ran a version of Microsoft Basic, probably the best Microsoft product that I ever used and certainly the most reliable đ
It didn’t seem limiting at all. On the contrary, we wrote whole games within that 1K and had such fun and creativity flow.
Once while I was in Milwaukee, lecturing, William asked me, “My mother’s sister lives in Milwaukee.
She is independently wealthy, very religious, she doesn’t like my mother and my mother doesn’t like her. She has a housekeeper come in, a maid come in every day to do the housework, the cooking, and she stays alone in that big house, goes to church, has no friends there. She just attends church and silently slips away. And she’s been horribly depressed for nine months. I’m worried about her and I’d like you to stop in and do something for her. I’m the only relative she has that she likes and she can’t stand me. So call on her and see what you can do.”
So, a depressed woman … I introduced myself and identified myself thoroughly . . . asked to be taken on a tour of that house. In looking around I saw she was a very wealthy woman living alone, idle, attending church but keeping to herself, and I went through the house room after room . . .
âŚand I saw three African violets and a potting pot with a leaf in it being sprouted as a new plant. So I knew what to do for her in the way of therapy.
I told her, “I want you to buy every African violet plant in view for yourself . . . those are yours. I want you to buy a couple hundred potting pots for you to sprout new African violets, and you buy a couple hundred gift pots.
As soon as the sprouts are well rooted, for every birth announcement you send an African violet; for every Christening; for every engagement; for every wedding; for every sickness; for every death; every Church bazaar.”
And one time she had two hundred African violets . . . and if you take care of two hundred African violets you’ve got a day’s work cut out. And she became the African Violet Queen of Milwaukee with endless numbers of friends.
Just that one little interview. I just pointed her nose in the right direction and said “Giddyup”. And she did all the rest of the therapy.
And that’s the important thing about therapy . . . you find out the potentials that are possible for your patients and then you encourage your patient to undertake them and sooner or later he’ll get all wrapped up in it.
Children have short memories and I’ll tell you how to teach children to have good memories. My son Robert one evening announced that he was big enough, old enough, strong enough to take out the garbage. I expressed my doubts, he assured me he WAS big enough, strong enough. I said he might forget, he assured me he wouldn’t. I said, “All right beginning Monday you can do it.” So Monday night he took it out, Tuesday night he took it out and Wednesday night he forgot. So I reminded him on Thursday he apologized for forgetting on Wednesday âtook it out Thursday night but forgot it Friday and Saturday. It just happened that early on Sunday morning at 3 A.M. I awakened. I had been very good to RobertâI had let him stay up till past one o’clock. I had awakened at three o’clock. I had wakened Robert apologized very profusely for not having reminded him for taking out the garbageâwould he please dress, take out the garbage. So Robert with many unknown thoughts sighed deeplyâ dressedâtook out the garbage. Came back in got out of his clothes into his pajamas into bed. I waited till he was very sound asleepâI awakened himâapologized very sincerely, very profusely, explaining I didn’t know how that one piece of garbage got overlooked. Robert made a more extensive minute search of the kitchen took that piece of garbage out to the garbage pail walked back to ,the house slowly. I was watching through the curtained window. He reached the back porch turned and ran out the alley and kicked off the cover off the garbage can. He came in and thoughtfully undressed into his pajamas. I never again had to remind him. I’ve pulled that trick on all my kids, eight kids got similar memory lessons. That’s a nice way to improve your memory.
Among the many accomplished and fabled tribes of Africa, no tribe was considered to have warriors more fearsome or more intelligent than the mighty Masai. It is perhaps surprising then to learn the traditional greeting that passed between Masai warriors. âKasserian ingeraâ, one would always say to another. It means âHow are the children?â
It is still traditional greeting among Masai, acknowledging the high value that the Masai place on their childrenâs well-being. Even warriors with no children of their own would always give the traditional answer, âAll children are wellâ.
This meant, of course, that peace and safety prevail; that priorities of protecting the young and the powerless are in place; that the Masai people have not forgotten their reason for being, their proper function, and their responsibilities. âAll children are wellâ denotes that life is good and that the daily struggles of existence, even among a poor people, include the proper care of the young and defenseless.
With a timid voice and idolizing eyes, the little boy greeted his father as he returned from work, “Daddy, how much do you make an hour?” Greatly surprised, but giving his boy a glaring look, the father said: “Look, son, not even your mother knows that. Don’t bother me now, I’m tired.” “But Daddy, just tell me please!? How much do you make an hour,” the boy insisted.
The father finally giving up replied: ” Twenty dollars per hour.” “Okay, Daddy? Could you loan me ten dollars?” the boy asked. Showing restlessness and positively disturbed, the father yelled: “So that was the reason you asked how much I earn, right?? Go to sleep and don’t bother me anymore!”
It was already dark and the father was meditating on what he had said and was feeling guilty. Maybe he thought, his son wanted to buy something. Finally, trying to ease his mind, the father went to his son’s room.
“Are you asleep son?” asked the father. “No, Daddy. Why?” replied the boy partially asleep. “Here’s the money you asked for earlier,” the father said. “Thanks, Daddy!” rejoiced the son, while putting his hand under his pillow and removing some money. “Now I have enough! Now I have twenty dollars!” the boy said to his father, who was gazing at his son, confused at what his son just said. “Daddy could you sell me one hour of your time?”
The Peaceful Country
Once upon a time there was a country, a very young country. It was idealistic, and the people in this country had great dreams about what the country would be like. It would be a country without war. It would be a gentle country. They wanted to live together in cooperation and peace.
Unfortunately, in the early history of this country, there was an unexpected attack from outside. And not just one attack, but several.
The people of this country didn’t know what to do. They didn’t know how to respond, and the whole of the country was thrown into turmoil. They wondered what to do, to deal with the situation in the best way that they could. Someone suggested,
“Lets ask for volunteers, and then we can set up a small group of people inside the country, and this small group can be in charge of defending the border.”
And as they didn’t seem to have very many choices just then, and at least this way most of the people could carry on living their normal peaceful existence, they agreed that this is what they would do. So, they sent the small group out there, to the border, to defend it.
The small group knew that they were there to control the border. That was their job, and they wanted to do it the very best way that they could, and you did… you know.
Now, after a while very disturbing news began to come back from the border, news of what was going on over there. The news was, that the small group over on the border was causing chaos. It was doing things that the people in the centre didn’t approve of at all. Things that were damaging to the community.
Naturally, the people in the centre were really concerned about this. They just hadn’t seemed to be able to find an ecological solution, you know… one that works in all ways.
Time went on… and unfortunately more problems occurred. They started getting messages from the small group, messages saying that to defend the border more territory was needed. The group at the border wanted to control more of the country.
At first the people in the country agreed, but they thought… well, that this could go on and on. And they began to wonder… who is really in charge here.
They had to really consider what to do.
So they organised a meeting with the people out on the border, and they called in a negotiator to assist them. The people from the centre, the small group and the negotiator begin to communicate.
The people from the centre said that some of the things going on out there at the border really concerned them, and they wondered if the small group had a good reason for it. And it was very important the way that they said that, you know, because they really wanted to understand the small groups highest intentions, and they were careful to express it to them in a way that showed that.
So they asked the small group about their intentions, and the group said that of course they were defending the border. They had to get tough they explained, because it was so critical that this was done well.
And then the negotiator asked them what they were wanting to achieve by defending the border in just that way. If the border was defended fully, what would they have through that, that’s even more important than the defence itself.
And they said that the country would be safe, and that’s what they’re trying to achieve.
Then the negotiator asked what would happen, as a result of that safety, that’s even more important than the safety itself.
And the small group thought about it, and explained that then they would be able to live in peace, harmony and cooperation.
The people from the centre said that now they understood what had been happening, and explained
“That’s what we want too.”
So they were able to really begin to cooperate and find ways that they really could begin to have more peace and harmony, because, you know the really important thing about this story?
The most important thing to know is that the attack had been finished years ago.
That’s right…
… it’s been over for years.
A father talks to his daughter who is a bit upset because her desk is untidy.
“What makes it untidy?” he asks.
“Well when things are moved about.” she replies.
“So if I move this pen a bit does that make it untidy?”
“Yes it does” she says “the pen has to be just there.”
“Well the problem is” says her father “there are a lot of ways you can see your desk as untidy but only one way you can see it as tidy!”
There was a girl who loved to blow bubbles. Every morning before she went to school she ran into the garden and blew bubbles. In the winter, she wore a heavy coat. In the summer, she didnât wear shoes and her hair was cut short. Every afternoon, when school ended, she ran home and blew bubbles again. Her mother was worried. She said, âItâs strange.â The girlâs father said, âWhatâs wrong with bubbles?â The girlâs father and mother did not understand each other very well.
One day the girl blew a bubble, but there was something different about it. The girl looked at it floating in front of her. It was square. That whole summer, the girl blew square bubbles. As she got older, she learned to blow triangles and half circles. By the time she was in high school, she could put the shapes together and make trees and houses, cars and buses. She could make whole little towns floating through the air.
The girl didnât join clubs. She didnât play sports. Her mother was still worried, but the girl studied enough to keep her teachers happy. And she kept her bubbles a secret. She couldnât say why she kept it a secret. The girl became a woman. She could now blow bubbles of cats, dogs, and horses that ran through the air. She worked as a designer at a small clothing company. Her clothes were simple, clean, and very popular.
Years later, she sat in her own garden, with her own children, and her own husband. Her daughter was holding a small green wand in one hand and a small bottle of soap in the other. The woman reached out and took the bottle and wand from her daughter. It was a late spring day. The sky was darkening. The woman dipped the wand in the soap and held it to her mouth. She whispered something. It sounded like a prayer. One perfect butterfly, purple against the evening sky floated free and up. The butterfly waved its wings slowly. It passed in front of a white moon. It disappeared in an instant. Her son, a boy of three who liked to break things, asked his mother to teach him how to make a butterfly. The womanâs daughter, who was a quiet girl and understood more than her brother, did not ask anything. She already knew. You did not make anything in this world. You worked until you found the right way to call for what you needed. If you were lucky, the call was answered.
After years of searching, the seeker was told to go to a cave, in which he would find a well. ‘Ask the well what is truth’, he was advised, ‘and the well will reveal it to you’. Having found the well, the seeker asked that most fundamental question. And from the depths came the answer, ‘Go to the village crossroad: there you shall find what you are seeking’.
Full of hope and anticipation the man ran to the crossroad to find only three rather uninteresting shops. One shop was selling pieces of metal, another sold wood, and thin wires were for sale in the third. Nothing and no one there seemed to have much to do with the revelation of truth.
Disappointed, the seeker returned to the well to demand an explanation, but he was told only, ‘You will understand in the future.’ When the man protested, all he got in return were the echoes of his own shouts. Indignant for having been made a fool of – or so he thought at the time – the seeker continued his wanderings in search of truth. As years went by, the memory of his experience at the well gradually faded until one night, while he was walking in the moonlight, the sound of sitar music caught his attention. It was wonderful music and it was played with great mastery and inspiration.
Profoundly moved, the truth seeker felt drawn towards the player. He looked at the fingers dancing over the strings. He became aware of the sitar itself. And then suddenly he exploded in a cry of joyous recognition: the sitar was made out of wires and pieces of metal and wood just like those he had once seen in the three stores and had thought it to be without any particular significance.
At last he understood the message of the well: we have already been given everything we need: our task is to assemble and use it in the appropriate way. Nothing is meaningful so long as we perceive only separate fragments. But as soon as the fragments come together into a synthesis, a new entity emerges, whose nature we could not have foreseen by considering the fragments alone.