The God

I have heard a beautiful story about a Sufi mystic, Farid:

One night he dreams that by the grace of Allah, he has reached Paradise. And the whole of Paradise is decorated, millions of lights.and flowers everywhere — some celebration is going on — and great music. He enquires, “What is going on?”

And they say, “This is God’s birthday — we are celebrating it. You have come at the right time.”

So he stands underneath a tree to see what is happening, because a great procession starts moving on the road. A man is sitting on a horse; he enquires, “Who is this man?” and they say, “Don’t you know him? He is Hajrat Mohammed.”

And then millions and millions of people behind him, and he asks, “Who are these people?” and he is replied to. “They are Mohammedans, followers of Mohammed.”

And then comes Jesus, and millions are following him. And then comes Krishna on his golden chariot, and millions again are following him. And so on and so forth… the procession continues, continues, continues.

And then finally, in the end, on an old donkey an old man is coming. And nobody is behind him; he is just alone. Farid starts laughing looking at this man — it is hilarious: nobody following him. And why should he be going on his donkey? He asks, “Who are you, sir? I have seen Mohammed, Christ, Krishna, Mahavira, Buddha — who are you? You look like a kind of joke! And nobody following you.”

And the old man is very sad and he says, “Yes, I am God. This is my birthday. But some people have become Mohammedans, some have become Christians, some have become Jews, some have become Hindus — nobody is left to be with me.”

Just out of shock, Farid woke up. He told his disciples the next day, “Now I am no more a Mohammedan. The dream has been a great revelation. Now I am no more part of any organized religion — I am simply myself. I would like to be with God, at least one person following him.”

Saving Lives

From the diary of a globe-trotting young cinema queen:

MONDAY: The Captain saw me on deck and was kind enough to ask me to sit at his table for the rest of the trip.

TUESDAY: I spent the morning on the bridge with the Captain. He took my picture leaning against the “Passengers not allowed on this bridge” sign.

WEDNESDAY: The Captain made proposals to me, unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.

THURSDAY: The Captain threatened to sink the ship unless I agreed to his proposals.

FRIDAY: I saved eight hundred lives today.

Dreams

A cat is sitting on a tree, giggling and smiling. And a dog looks up and asks, “What is the matter, you idiot?”
And the cat says, “I was just having a beautiful afternoon nap and I dreamed that it is raining, very fast, strong rain, and the most amazing part is, it is not water that is raining, it is mice.”
The dog was very angry. He said, “You idiot. You will never grow out of your retardedness. In my holy scriptures there are instances when it has rained, but it has rained always cats, never rats!”

The Holy Shadow

There once lived a saint so good that the angels came from heaven to see how a man could be so godly. This saint went about his daily life diffusing virtue as the stars diffuse light and the flowers scent, without being aware of it. His day could be summed up by two words — he gave, he forgave — yet these words never passed his lips. They were expressed in his ready smile, his kindness, forbearance, and charity.

The angels said to God, “Lord, grant him the gift of miracles.”

God replied, “Ask what it is that he wishes.”

They said to the saint, “Would you like the touch of your hands to heal the sick?”

“No,” answered the saint. “I would rather God do that.”

“Would you like to convert guilty souls and bring back wandering hearts to the right path?”

“No, that is the angels’ mission. It is not for me to convert.”

“Would you like to become a model of patience, attracting men by the luster of your virtues, and thus glorifying God?”

“No,” replied the saint. “If men should be attracted to me, they would become estranged from God.” “What is it that you desire, then?” asked the angels.

“What can I wish for?” asked the saint smiling. “That God gives me his grace; with that would I not have everything?”

The angels said, “You must ask for a miracle, or one will be forced upon you.”

“Very well,” said the saint. “That I may do a great deal of good without ever knowing it.”

The angels were perplexed. They took counsel and resolved upon the following plan: every time the saint’s shadow fell behind him or to either side, so that he could not see it, it would have the power to cure disease, soothe pain, and comfort sorrow.

When the saint walked along, his shadow, thrown on the ground on either side or behind him, made arid paths green, caused withered plants to bloom, gave clear water to dried-up brooks, fresh color to pale children, and joy to unhappy men and women.

The saint simply went about his daily life diffusing virtue as the stars diffuse light and the flowers scent, without being aware of it. The people, respecting his humility, followed him silently, never speaking to him about his miracles. Soon they even forgot his name, and called him “The Holy Shadow.”

Nagarjuna and the Thief

A great master, Nagarjuna, was asked by a great thief…. The thief was well known over the whole kingdom and he was so clever, so intelligent that he had never been caught. Everybody knew — he had even stolen from the king’s treasury, many times — but they were unable to catch him. He was very elusive, a master artist.
He asked Nagarjuna, “Can you help me? Can I get rid of my stealing? Can I also become as silent and blissful as you are?” It happened in a certain context.
Nagarjuna was the greatest alchemist that the East has given birth to. He used to live naked, with just a begging bowl, a wooden begging bowl, but kings worshiped him, queens worshiped him. He came to the capital and the queen touched his feet and said, “I feel very much offended by your wooden bowl. You are a master of masters; hundreds of kings and queens are your followers. I have prepared a golden bowl for you, studded with beautiful diamonds, emeralds. Please don’t reject it — it will wound me very much, it will hurt me very much. For three years great artists have been working on it, now it is ready.”
She was afraid that Nagarjuna might say, “I cannot touch gold, I have renounced the world.” But Nagarjuna did not say anything like that; he said, “Okay! You can keep my begging bowl, give me the golden one.”
Even the queen was a little shocked. She was thinking that Nagarjuna would say, “I cannot accept it.” She wanted him to accept it, but still, deep in her unconscious somewhere was the old Indian tradition that the awakened one has to live in poverty, in discomfort, as if discomfort and poverty have something spiritual in them. There is nothing spiritual in them.
Nagarjuna said okay. He didn’t even look at the golden bowl. He went away. The thief saw Nagarjuna moving outside the capital, because he was staying in a ruined temple on the other bank of the river. The thief said, “Such a precious thing I have never seen — so many diamonds, so many emeralds, so much gold. I have seen many beautiful things in my life but never such a thing, and how did this naked man get hold of it, and how is he going to protect it? Anybody will be able to take it away from him, so why not me?”
The thief followed Nagarjuna. Nagarjuna heard his footsteps, he knew somebody was coming behind him.
Nagarjuna reached the temple. The temple was an absolute ruin, no roof, no doors; just a few walls were left. He went inside a room without a roof, without a door, without windows.
The thief said, “How is he going to protect such a precious thing? It is only a question of hours.” He sat outside the window, hiding behind a wall.
Nagarjuna threw the bowl outside the window. The thief was very much puzzled. The bowl fell just near his feet. He was puzzled: “What has this man done?” He could not believe his eyes, he was also shocked. He stood up — even though he was a thief, he was a master thief and he had some dignity. He thanked Nagarjuna. He said, “Sir, I have to show my gratitude. But you are a rare man — throwing out such a precious thing as if it is nothing. Can I come inside and touch your feet?”
Nagarjuna said, “Come in! In fact I have thrown the bowl out so that you could come in.”
The thief could not understand what he was saying; he came in, he looked at Nagarjuna — his silence, his peace, his bliss — he was overwhelmed. He said, “I feel jealous of you. I have never come across a man like you. Compared to you, all others are subhuman beings. How integrated you are! How gone beyond the world! Is there any possibility for me too one day to attain such integration, such individuality, such compassion and such nonattachment to things?”
Nagarjuna said, “It is possible. It is everybody’s potential.”
But the thief said, “Wait! Let me tell you one thing. I have been many times to many saints and they all know me and they say, ‘First you stop stealing, then anything else is possible. Without stopping stealing you cannot grow spiritually.’ So please don’t make that condition because that I cannot do. It is impossible. I have tried and I have failed many times. It seems that is my nature — I have to go on stealing, so don’t mention that. Let me tell you first so you don’t make it a condition.”
Nagarjuna said, “That simply shows you have never seen a saint before. Those must have all been ex-thieves; otherwise why should they be worried about your stealing? Go on stealing and do everything as skillfully as possible. It is good to be a master of any art.”
The thief was shocked even more: “What kind of man is this?” And he said, “Then what do you suggest? What is right, what is wrong?”
He said, “I don’t say anything is right or anything is wrong. Do one thing: if you want to steal, steal — but steal consciously. Go tonight, enter into the house very alert, open the doors, the locks, but very consciously. And then if you can steal, steal, but remain conscious. And report to me after seven days.”
After seven days the thief came, bowed down, touched Nagarjuna’s feet and said, “Now initiate me into sannyas.”
Nagarjuna said, “Why? What about your stealing?”
He said, “You are a cunning fellow! I tried my best: if I am conscious, I cannot steal; if I steal I am unconscious. I can steal only when I am unconscious. When I am conscious the whole thing seems so stupid, so meaningless. What am I doing? For what? Tomorrow I may die. And why do I go on accumulating wealth? I have more than I need; even for generations it is enough. It looks so meaningless that I stop immediately. For seven days I have entered into houses and come out empty-handed. And to be conscious is so beautiful. I have tasted it for the first time, and it is just a small taste — now I can conceive how much you must be enjoying, how much you must be celebrating. Now I know that you are the real king — naked, but you are the real king. Now I know that you have real gold and we are playing with false gold.”
The thief became a disciple of Nagarjuna and attained to buddhahood.

Subtle Essence

“Fetch me from a fruit of the nyagrodh tree,” asked the father, the great sage Uddalak, to his son.

“Here is one, sir,” said Svetaketu.

“Break it.”

“It is broken, sir.”

“What do you see there?”

“These seeds, almost infinitesimal.” “Break one of them.”

“It is broken, sir.”

“What do you see?”

“Nothing, sir. Absolutely nothing.”

The father said, “My son, that subtle essence which you do not perceive there, of that very essence this great nyagrodh tree exists. Believe it, my son, that there is the subtle essence in that all things have existence. That is the truth. That is the self. And that, Svetaketu, that art thou — tatvamasi, Svetaketu.”

The nyagrodh tree, a big tree. The father asks for a fruit; Svetaketu brings it. Fruit is vaikhari — the thing has flowered, fruition has happened. Fruit is the most peripheral thing, absolutely manifested. The father says, “Break it.” Svetaketu breaks it — millions of seeds. The father says, “Choose one seed. Break it also.” He breaks that seed also. Now there is nothing in hand. Now inside the seed there is nothing. Uddalak says, “Out of this nothingness comes the seed. Out of the seed comes the tree. Out of the tree comes the fruit. But the basis is nothingness, the silence, the space, the formless, the unmanifest, the beyond, the transcendental.”

Business is business

In a school, a Christian missionary school, the teacher asked the   children, "Who is the greatest man in history?"

An American boy says, "Abraham Lincoln."

A Mohammedan boy says, "Hazrat Mohammed."

A Hindu girl says, "Lord Krishna."

And so on and so forth...and finally, the little Jewish boy stands up and says, "Jesus Christ."

The teacher could not believe her ears -- the Jew and saying Jesus Christ? She asked, "Do you really mean that?"

He said, "That is not the question. In my heart of hearts I know it is Moses -- but business is business."