1.Be like the flowing river,
Silent in the night.
Be not afraid of the dark.
If there are stars in the sky, reflect them back.
If there are clouds in the sky,
Remember, clouds, like the river, are water,
So, gladly reflect them too,
In your own tranquil depths.
Manuel Bandeira
2.THE MISSING BRICK:
Once, when I and my wife were travelling, I received a fax from my secretary. ‘There’s one glass brick missing for the work on the kitchen renovation,’ she said. ‘I’m sending you the original plan as well as the plan the builder has come up with to compensate for it.’ On the one hand, there was the design my wife had made: harmonious lines of bricks with an opening for ventilation. On the other, there was the plan drawn up to resolve the problem of the missing brick: a real jigsaw puzzle in which the glass squares were arranged in a higgledy-piggledy fashion that defied aesthetics. ‘Just buy another brick,’ wrote my wife. And so they did, and thus stuck to the original design. That afternoon, I thought for a long time about what had happened; how often, for the lack of one brick, we completely distort the original plan of our lives.
3.IMPORTANCE OF CAT IN MEDITATION:
When I wrote Veronika Decides to Die, a book about madness, I was forced to ask myself how many of the things we do are really necessary, and how many are simply absurd. Why do we wear ties? Why do clocks move clockwise? If we live with a decimal system, why does the day have 24 hours of 60 minutes each? The fact is that many of the rules we obey nowadays have no real foundation. Nevertheless, if we choose to behave differently, we are considered ‘mad’ or ‘immature’. As long as this goes on, society will continue to create systems that, with the passing of time, will cease to make any sense, but will continue imposing their rules on us. An interesting Japanese story illustrates my point.
A great Zen master, in charge of the monastery of Mayu Kagi, owned a cat, who was the real love of his life. During meditation classes, he always kept the cat by his side, in order to enjoy its company as much as possible. One morning, the master, who was already quite old, was found dead. The oldest disciple took his place. ‘What shall we do with the cat?’ asked the other monks. In homage to the memory of his former teacher, the new master decided to allow the cat to continue attending the classes on Zen Buddhism. Some disciples from neighbouring monasteries, who travelled widely in the region, discovered that, in one of the most famous temples in the area, a cat took part in the meditations. The story began to spread. Many years passed. The cat died, but the students at the monastery were so used to its presence that they acquired another cat. Meanwhile, other temples began introducing cats into their meditation classes; they believed that the cat was the one actually responsible for Mayu Kagi’s fame, and for the quality of its teaching, forgetting what an excellent teacher the former master had been. A generation passed, and technical treatises on the importance of the cat in Zen meditation began to be published. A university professor developed a thesis, accepted by the academic community, that the cat had the ability to increase human concentration and to eliminate negative energy. And thus, for a century, the cat was considered to be an essential part of the study of Zen Buddhism in that region. Then a master arrived who was allergic to cat hair, and he decided to remove the cat from his daily practices with the students. Everyone protested, but the master insisted. Since he was a gifted teacher, the students continued to make progress, despite the cat’s absence. Gradually, monasteries – always in search of new ideas and weary of having to feed so many cats – began to remove cats from the classroom. Over the next twenty years, revolutionary new theses were written, bearing persuasive titles like ‘The Importance of Meditating Without a Cat’ or ‘Balancing the Zen Universe by the Power of One’s Mind Alone and Without the Aid of Animals’. Another century passed, and the cat vanished completely from the Zen meditation ritual in that region. But it took two hundred years for everything to return to normal, and all because, during that
time, no one thought to ask why the cat was there. How many of us, in our own lives, ever dare to ask: why do I behave in such and such a way? In what we do, how far are we, too, using futile ‘cats’ that we do not have the courage to get rid of because we were told that the ‘cats’ were important in order to keep everything running smoothly? Why do we not find a different way of behaving?
4. CHARITY UNDER THREAT:
Some time ago, my wife went to the aid of a Swiss tourist in Ipanema, who claimed he had been robbed by some street children. Speaking appalling Portuguese in a thick foreign accent, he said that he had been left without his passport, without any money, and with nowhere to sleep. My wife bought him lunch, gave him enough cash to pay for a hotel room for the night while he got in touch with his embassy, and then left. Days later, a Rio newspaper reported that this ‘Swiss tourist’ was, in fact, an inventive con-artist who put on an accent and abused the good faith of those of us who love Rio and want to undo the negative image – justified or not – that has become our postcard. When she read the article, my wife simply said: ‘Well, that’s not going to stop me helping anyone.’ Her remark reminded me of the story of a wise man who moved to the city of Akbar. No one took much notice of him, and his teachings were not taken up by the populace. After a time, he became the object of their mockery and their ironic comments. One day, while he was walking down the main street in Akbar, a group of men and women began insulting him. Instead of pretending that he had not noticed, the wise man turned to them and blessed them. One of the men said: ‘Are you deaf too? We call you the foulest of names and yet you respond with sweet words!’ ‘We can each of us only offer what we have,’ came the wise man’s reply.
5. PEACE:
Peace is not the opposite of war. We can have peace in our heart even in the midst of the fiercest battles, because we are fighting for our dreams. When our friends have lost hope, the peace of the Good Fight helps us to carry on. A mother who can feed her child has peace in her eyes, even when her hands are trembling because diplomacy has failed, bombs are falling, and soldiers dying. An archer drawing his bow has peace in his mind, even though all his muscles are tense with the physical effort. Therefore, for warriors of light, peace is not the opposite of war, because they are capable of:
a distinguishing between the transient and the enduring. They can fight for their dreams and for their survival, but respect bonds forged over time, through culture and religion. b knowing that their adversaries are not necessarily their enemies. c being aware that their actions will affect five future generations, and that their children and grandchildren will benefit from (or suffer) the consequences. d remembering what the I Ching says: ‘Perseverance is favourable.’ But they know too that perseverance is not the same thing as stubbornness. Battles that go on longer than necessary
end up destroying the enthusiasm necessary for later reconstruction.
For the warrior of light, there are no abstractions. Every opportunity to transform himself is an opportunity to transform the world. For the warrior of light, pessimism does not exist. He rows against the tide if necessary; for when he is old and tired, he will be able to say to his grandchildren that he came into this world to understand his neighbour better, not to condemn his brother.
6. FAIRY TALE:
Maria Emilia Voss, a pilgrim to Santiago, tells the following story. In ancient China, around the year 250 BC, a certain prince of the region of Thing-Zda was about to be crowned emperor; however, according to the law, he first had to get married. Since this meant choosing the future empress, the prince needed to find a young woman whom he could trust absolutely. On the advice of a wise man, he decided to summon all the young women of the region in order to find the most worthy candidate. An old lady, who had served in the palace for many years, heard about the preparations for this gathering and felt very sad, for her daughter nurtured a secret love for the prince. When the old lady got home, she told her daughter and was horrified to learn that she intended going to the palace. The old lady was desperate. ‘But, daughter, what on earth will you do there? All the richest and most beautiful girls from the court will be present. It’s a ridiculous idea! I know you must be suffering, but don’t turn that suffering into madness.’ And the daughter replied: ‘My dear mother, I am not suffering and I certainly haven’t gone mad. I know that I won’t be chosen, but it’s my one chance to spend at least a few moments close to the prince, and that makes me happy, even though I know that a quite different fate awaits me.’ That night, when the young woman reached the palace, all the most beautiful girls were indeed there, wearing the most beautiful clothes and the most beautiful jewellery, and prepared to do anything to seize the opportunity on offer. Surrounded by the members of his court, the prince announced a challenge. ‘I will give each of you a seed. In six months’ time, the young woman who brings me the loveliest flower will be the future empress of China.’ The girl took her seed and planted it in a pot, and since she was not very skilled in the art of gardening, she prepared the soil with great patience and tenderness, for she believed that if the flowers grew as large as her love, then she need not worry about the results. Three months passed and no shoots had appeared. The young woman tried everything; she consulted farmers and peasants, who showed her the most varied methods of cultivation, but all to no avail. Each day she felt that her dream had moved farther off, although her love was as alive as ever. At last, the six months were up, and still nothing had grown in her pot. Even though she had nothing to show, she knew how much effort and dedication she had put in during that time, and so she told her mother that she would go back to the palace on the agreed date and at the agreed hour. Inside, she knew that this would be her last meeting with her true love, and she would not have missed it for the world. The day of the audience arrived. The girl appeared with her plantless pot, and saw that all the other candidates had achieved wonderful results: each girl bore a flower lovelier than the last, in the most varied forms and colours. Finally, the longed-for moment came. The prince entered and he studied each of the candidates with great care and attention. Having inspected them all, he announced the result and chose the
servant’s daughter as his new wife. All the other girls present began to protest, saying that he had chosen the only one of them who had failed to grow anything at all. Then the prince calmly explained the reasoning behind the challenge. ‘This young woman was the only one who cultivated the flower that made her worthy of becoming the empress: the flower of honesty. All the seeds I handed out were sterile, and nothing could ever have grown from them.’
7. A POEM BY MITSUO AIDA, RECOMMENDED BY AUTHOR:
If tomatoes wanted to be melons,
they would look completely ridiculous.
I am always amazed
that so many people are concerned
with wanting to be what they are not;
what’s the point of making yourself look ridiculous?
8. ALONE ON THE ROAD:
Life is like a great bicycle race, whose aim is to fulfil our personal legend, which, according to the ancient alchemists, is our true mission on earth. We all set off together, sharing friendship and enthusiasm; but as the race progresses, that initial happiness gives way to the real challenges: tiredness, boredom, doubts about our own abilities. We notice that a few friends have, in their hearts, already given up. They are still cycling, but only because they cannot stop in the middle of the road. There are more and more of them, pedalling along beside the support vehicle – also known as routine – talking amongst themselves, fulfilling their obligations, but oblivious to the beauties and challenges of the road. We eventually leave them behind us, and then we come face to face with loneliness, with unfamiliar bends in the road, and mechanical problems with our bicycle. At a certain stage, after suffering a few falls with no one near at hand to help, we begin to ask ourselves if it’s really worth all the effort. Yes, it is. It’s just a question of not giving up. Father Alan Jones says that in order to overcome these obstacles, we need four invisible forces: love, death, power and time. We must love because we ourselves are loved by God. We must have an awareness of death in order fully to understand life. We must struggle in order to grow, but without allowing ourselves to be deceived by the power that is gained through that struggle, because we know that such power is worthless. Finally, we must accept that our soul – even though it is eternal – is at this moment caught in the web of time, with all its opportunities and limitations. Therefore, on our solitary bicycle race, we must behave as if time existed and do everything we can to value each second, to rest when necessary, but to keep cycling towards the divine light, and not be put off by any moments of anxiety. These four forces cannot be treated as problems to be solved, because they are beyond anyone’s control. We must accept them, and let them teach us what we need to learn. We live in a universe that is at once vast enough to enclose us, and small enough to fit inside our heart. In the soul of man is the soul of the world, the silence of wisdom. As we pedal towards our goal, we must make a point of asking ourselves: ‘What is beautiful about today?’ The sun might be shining, but if it happens to be raining, always remember that this only means that the dark clouds will soon have disappeared. The clouds do disappear; but the sun remains the same, and never goes away. In moments of loneliness, it is important to remember this. When things get hard, let us not forget that – independent of race, colour, social situation, beliefs, or culture – everyone has experienced exactly the same.
9. HUMANS FUNNY THING:
A man asked my friend Jaime Cohen: ‘What is the human being’s funniest characteristic?’ Cohen said: ‘Our contradictoriness. We are in such a hurry to grow up, and then we long for our lost childhood. We make ourselves ill earning money, and then spend all our money on getting well again. We think so much about the future that we neglect the present, and thus experience neither the present nor the future. We live as if we were never going to die, and die as if we had never lived.’
10. TWENTY DOLLAR BILL:
Cassan Said Amer tells the story of a lecturer who began a seminar by holding up a twenty-dollar bill and asking: ‘Who would like this twenty-dollar bill?’ Several hands went up, but the lecturer said: ‘Before I give it to you, I have to do something.’ He screwed it up into a ball and said: ‘Who still wants this bill?’ The hands went up again. ‘And what if I do this to it?’ He threw the crumpled bill at the wall, dropped it on the floor, insulted it, trampled on it, and once more showed them the bill – now all creased and dirty. He repeated the question, and the hands stayed up. ‘Never forget this scene,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter what I do to this money. It is still a twentydollar bill. So often in our lives, we are crumpled, trampled, ill-treated, insulted, and yet, despite all that, we are still worth the same.’
11. TWO JEWELS:
From the Cistercian monk, Marcos Garria, in Burgos, in Spain. ‘Sometimes God withdraws a particular blessing from someone so that the person can comprehend Him as something other than a being of whom one asks favours and makes requests. He knows how far He can test a soul, and never goes beyond that point. At such moments, we must never say: “God has abandoned me.” He will never do that, even though we may sometimes abandon Him. If the Lord sets us a great test, he always gives us sufficient – I would say more than sufficient – grace to pass that test.’ In this regard, one of my readers, Camila Galvão Piva, sent me an interesting story, entitled ‘The Two Jewels’. A very devout rabbi lived happily with his family – an admirable wife and their two beloved sons. Once, because of his work, the rabbi had to be away from home for several days. During that period, both children were killed in a terrible car accident. Alone, the mother suffered in silence. However, because she was a strong woman, sustained by faith and trust in God, she endured the shock with dignity and courage. But how was she to break the tragic news to her husband? His faith was equally strong, but he had, in the past, been taken into hospital with heart problems, and his wife feared that finding out about the tragedy might cause his death too. All she could do was to pray to God to advise her on the best way to act. On the eve of her husband’s return, she prayed hard and was granted the grace of an answer. The following day, the rabbi arrived home, embraced his wife, and asked after the children. The woman told him not to worry about them now, but to take a bath and rest. Some time later, they sat down to lunch. She asked him all about his trip, and he told her everything that had happened to him; he spoke about God’s mercy, and then again asked about the children. The wife, somewhat awkwardly, replied: ‘Don’t worry about the children. We’ll deal with them later. First, I need your help to solve what I consider to be a very grave problem.’ Her husband asked anxiously: ‘What’s happened? I thought you looked distressed. Tell me everything that is on your mind, and I’m sure that, with God’s help, we can solve any problem together.’ ‘While you were away, a friend of ours visited us and left two jewels of incalculable value here for me to look after. They’re really lovely jewels! I’ve never seen anything so beautiful before. He has since come to claim them back, and I don’t want to return them. I’ve grown too fond of them. What should I do?’ ‘I can’t understand your behaviour at all! You’ve never been a woman given to vanity!’ ‘It’s just that I’ve never seen such jewels before! I can’t bear the idea of losing them forever.’ And the rabbi said firmly: ‘No one can lose something he or she has not possessed. Keeping those jewels would be tantamount to stealing them. We will give them back, and I will help you make up for their loss. We will do this together today.’ ‘As you wish, my love. The treasures will be returned. In fact, they already have been. The two precious jewels were our sons. God entrusted them to our care, and while you were away, he came to
fetch them back. They have gone.’ The rabbi understood. He embraced his wife, and together they wept many tears; but he had understood the message and, from that day on, they struggled to bear their loss together.
AND THESE ARE ALL THAT I COULD FIND INTERESTING. NO DOUBT THERE WERE OTHERS AS WELL BUT THEY WERE PRETTY LONG AND I WOULD DEFINITELY RECOMMEND YOU TO READ 'LIKE THE FLOWING RIVER' AND 'WARRIOR OF LIGHT: A MANUAL' BY PAULO COELHO, SINCE BOTH OF THESE INSPIRE US TO LIVE A BETTER LIFE.
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