the donor

A little girl was ill in hospital with a rare blood disorder and was badly in need of a blood donor but a match could not be found. As a last resort, her six year old brother was checked as a match and much to everyone's relief, he was.

Both his parents and doctor sat the little boy down and explained how they would like his blood to help his sister so she would not die. The little boy waited a few moments then asked if he could think about it. It wasn't the reaction the parents or doctor expected but they agreed.

The following day the little boy sat in front of the doctor with his father and mother and said he agreed to give his sister what she needed.

The hospital staff moved quickly for his sister was fading quite fast. So the little boy could understand what was happening, he was placed in a bed next to his sister and so the transfusion began. Quickly, the colour and life began flooding back into the little girl and every one was overjoyed.

The little boy turned to the doctor and quietly asked, "How long will it be before I die?"

Now we know why he took a little time to think about it.

***

I offer my apologies to those who think this one was a bit too sweet but it was a story that touched my heart.
Sometimes that's enough.

❤️

liberating creatures

An old monk liked to sit in meditation on a large flat rock next to a placid pool. Yet every time he began his devotions in earnest, just as soon as he had crossed his legs and settled down, he would spot an insect struggling helplessly in the water. Time after time, he would lift up his creaky old body and deliver the tiny creature to safety, before settling down again on his rocky seat. So his contemplations went, day after day..

His brother monks, dedicated meditators who also went off daily to sit alone in the rocky ravines and caves of that desolate region, eventually became aware that the old lama hardly ever managed to sit still but actually spent most of his meditation sessions plucking insects out of the tiny pool. Although it certainly seemed fitting to save the life of a helpless sentient being of any kind, large or small, some of the wondered if the old monk's meditations might not be greatly furthered if he sat undisturbed elsewhere. away from such distractions. One day they finally mentioned their concerns to him.

"Wouldn't it be more beneficial to sit elsewhere and meditate deeply, undisturbed all day? That way you could more swiftly gain perfect enlightenment, and then you could free all living beings from the ocean of conditioned existence?" one asked the old man.

"Perhaps you could just meditate by the pool with your eyes closed," another brother suggested.

"How can you develop tranquility and deep, diamondlike concentration if you keep getting up and sitting down a hundred times in each meditation session?" a young scholarly monk demanded, emboldened by the more tactful queries of his senior brethren... And thus it went on.

The venerable old lama listened attentively, saying nothing. When all had had their say, he bowed gratefully and said, "I'm sure my meditations would be more fruitful if I sat unmoved all day, brothers, as you say. But how can an old worthless one like myself, who has vowed again and again to give this lifetime (and all his lives) to serving and liberating others, just sit with closed eyes and hardened heart, praying and intoning the altruistic mantra of Great Compassion, while right before me helpless creatures are drowning?"

To that simple, humble question, none of the assembled monks could find a reply.

***

I haven't posted a Tibetan Buddhist story in quite some time, but when this one appeared in front of me again a few days ago I decided to paint a quick picture.

Happy Springtime
♡

a zen story - fate is in your hands

In a time long past there was an old monk who, through diligent practice, had attained a certain degree of spiritual penetration.

He had a young novice who was about seven years old. One day the monk looked at the boy's face and saw there that he would die within the next few months. Saddened by this, he told the boy to take a long holiday and go and visit his parents. 'Take your time,' said the monk. 'Don't hurry back.' For he felt the boy should be with his family when he died.

Three months later, to his astonishment, the monk saw the boy walking back up the mountain. When he arrived he looked intently at his face and saw that the boy would now live to a ripe old age. 'Tell me everything that happened while you were away,' said the monk.

So the boy started to tell of his journey down from the mountain. He told of villages and towns he passed through, of rivers forded and mountains climbed. Then he told how one day he came upon a stream in flood. He noticed, as he tried to pick his way across the flowing stream, that a colony of ants had become trapped on a small rock in the midst of the flooding stream. Moved by compassion for these poor creatures, he took a branch of a tree and laid it across one part of the stream until it touched the little island. As the ants made their way across, the boy held the branch steady, until he was sure all the ants had escaped to dry land. Then he went on his way.

'So,' thought the old monk to himself, 'that is why the gods have lengthened his days.'

♡

by a thread

One fine day the Buddha (or possibly, Jesus) was strolling in the gardens of Paradise when he stopped by a crystal clear pond. As his gaze penetrated the limpid pool he saw all the way down to the depths of Hell, where his eyes came to rest on one particular sinner. His name was Kandata, a cold hearted criminal who had but one good deed to his name: while walking through the forest one day he had decided not to kill a spider he was about to crush underfoot. Moved by this singular act of compassion, the Buddha (or Jesus), took a silvery thread from a spider in Heaven and lowered it down into Hell.

Down in Hell, the myriad sinners are struggling in the Pool of Blood, in total darkness save for the light glinting off the Mountain of Spikes, and in total silence save for the sighs of the damned. Kandata, looking up by chance at the sky above the pool, sees the spider's thread descending towards him and grabs hold with all the might of a seasoned criminal. The climb from Hell to Paradise is not a short one, however, and Kandata quickly tires. Dangling from the middle of the rope, he glances downward, and sees how far he has come. Realizing that he may actually escape from Hell, he is overcome by joy and laughs giddily. His elation is short-lived, however, as he realizes that others have started climbing the thread behind him, stretching down into the murky depths below. Fearing that the thread will break from the weight of the others, he shouts that the spider's thread is his and his alone. It is at this moment that the thread breaks, and he and all the other sinners are cast back down into the Pool of Blood.

The Buddha (or Jesus) witnesses this, knowing all, but sad nonetheless. In the end, Kandata condemned himself.

This was an old story I found that was told by Buddhists and Christians. 
I've noticed morality tales are universal.

♡

transient

During a long journey a famous spiritual teacher arrived at a King's palace. As he walked across the broad courtyard through the doors none of the guards tried to stop him when he entered and made his way to where the King himself was sitting on his throne.

    "What do you want?" asked the King, immediately recognizing the visitor.

    "I would like a place to sleep in this inn,"
    replied the teacher.

    "But this is not an inn," said the King, "It is my palace."

    "May I ask who owned this palace before you?"

    "My father. He is dead."

    "And who owned it before him?"

    "My grandfather. He too is dead."

    "And this place where people live for a short time and then move on - did I hear you say that it is not an inn?"

the end

♡

maybe

Once there was an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. “Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically.

“Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. “How wonderful,” the neighbors exclaimed.

“Maybe,” replied the old man.

The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune.

“Maybe,” answered the farmer.

The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out.

“Maybe,” said the farmer.

the end
or maybe the beginning..

*****

Wishing you all a very Happy New Year or at the very least, equanimity in the face of whatever changes may come.

♡

right and wrong

A weeks long meditation retreat that was being held in the mountains of Japan was attended by many students of the great master. During the gathering one student was caught stealing. The matter was reported to the master with the request that the culprit be dismissed. The master ignored the case.

Later the student was caught in a similar act, and again the master disregarded the matter. This angered the other students, who busied themselves drawing up a petition asking for the dismissal of the thief, stating that otherwise they would leave in a body.

When the master had read the petition he called everyone before him. “You are wise brothers,” he told them. “You know what is right and what is not right. You may go somewhere else to study if you wish, but this poor brother does not even know right from wrong. Who will teach him if I do not? I am going to keep him here even if all the rest of you leave.”

A torrent of tears cleansed the face of the brother who had stolen. All desire to steal had vanished.

the end

*******

I never know which of these stories will get me to draw a picture next - they must be lessons I need to hear myself. Anger may be a righteous reaction, but it never seems to solve anything.

♡

why meditate

An elder monk who finds a young monk sitting in a meditation pose inquires, 'Why are you sitting in meditation?'

The younger replies, 'By sitting in meditation I hope eventually to become a buddha'.

The elder monk picks up a brick, walks across the carefully tended Zen rock garden and begins rubbing the brick against one of the ancient stones.

The younger one laughs and asks, 'What are you doing?'

To which the elder says, 'I am polishing this brick in hopes that eventually it will become a mirror'.

the end

♡

making a difference

 Zen master Ryokan was walking on the beach not long after a storm had blown over. Hundreds of starfish that had been washed up by the waves were beginning to die in the sharp sunlight. Ryokan picked up the starfish one by one and threw them back into the sea.


A fisherman who had been observing Ryokan came up to him. “Why do you do this? Every time there’s a storm, this happens on every beach for hundreds of miles. You can’t save them all, so what difference does your attempt make?”

“It will make a difference – to this one,” replied Ryokan, as he flung yet another starfish into the water.

the end
*****

This is definitely a lazy (and recovering) person's post but it's another one I like a lot.
Thanks to you all for the good wishes.

♡

three monks

 
Three monks sat by a river, deep in meditation. One stood up and said, “I’ve forgotten my mat.” Stepping on to the waters before him, he walked across to the other side, where their small hut stood in the forest. When he returned, the second monk said, “I just remembered I haven’t dried my washed clothes.” He too, strode calmly across the water to the other bank and returned in a few minutes the same way.

The third monk watched them intently. Figuring that this was a test of his own skills, he loudly declared, “So you think your abilities are superior to mine! Watch me!” and scurried to the edge of the river bank. No sooner did he put his foot in than he fell into deep water. Unfazed, he waded out and tried again. And again and again, to no avail. 

After watching this performance in silence, one of his fellow monks asked the other, “Do you suppose we should tell him where the stepping stones are?”

I'm very fond of Zen stories. If you've heard this one before I hope you'll excuse me for telling it again.

♡

two monks

Two traveling monks reached a river where they met a young woman. Wary of the strong current, she asked if they could help her across. One of the monks hesitated, but the other quickly picked her up onto his shoulders, transported her across the water, and put her down on the other bank. She thanked him and departed.

As the monks continued on their way, the one was brooding and preoccupied. Unable to hold his silence, he spoke out. "Brother, our spiritual training teaches us to avoid any contact with women, but you picked that one up on your shoulders and carried her!"

"Brother," the second monk replied, "I set her down on the other side, while you are still carrying her."