CRI n°13  2012

part  2

NE CHANGE PAS TA NATURE

Un maître de l'Orient vit un scorpion se noyer et décida de le tirer de l'eau, et lorsqu'il le fit, le scorpion le piqua.

Par l'effet de la douleur, le maître lâcha l'animal qui de nouveau tomba à l'eau en train de se noyer.

Le maître tenta à nouveau de le retirer et l'animal le repiqua.

Quelqu’un qui était en train d'observer se rapprocha du maître et lui dit :         
       - Excusez-moi, mais vous êtes têtu ! Ne comprenez-vous pas qu’à chaque fois que vous tenterez de le tirer de l'eau  il va vous  piquer ?

Le maître répondit:
- La nature du scorpion est de piquer, et cela ne va pas changer la mienne qui est d'aider.

Alors, à l'aide d'une feuille, le maître tira le scorpion de l'eau et lui sauva la vie et continua:

Ne change pas ta nature, si quelqu'un te fait mal; prends juste des précautions.
Les uns poursuivent le bonheur, les autres le créent.
Quand la vie te présente mille raisons de pleurer, montre-lui que tu as mille raisons pour sourire.
Préoccupe-toi plus de ta conscience que de ta réputation.
Parce que ta conscience est ce que tu es, et ta réputation, c’est ce que les autres pensent de toi...
et ce que les autres pensent de toi...c'est leur  problème.

 EFFECT OF SRIMAD BHAGAVAD GEETA!  voir un petit livre 

 
 
 Why we read the Bhagavad Geeta, even if we can't understand it?
 
An old farmer lived on a farm in the mountains with his young grandson. Each morning, Grandpa was up early sitting at the kitchen table reading his Bhagavad Geeta.
 
His grandson wanted to be just like him and tried to imitate him in every way he could.
 
One day the grandson asked, "Grandpa! I try to read the Bhagawad Geeta just like you but I do not understand it, and what I do understand, I forget as soon as I close the book. What good does reading the Bhagawat Geeta do?"
 
The boy did as he was told, but all the water leaked out before he got back to the house.
 
The grandfather laughed and said, "You'll have to move a little faster next time," and sent him back to the river with the basket to try again.
 
This time the boy ran faster, but again the basket was empty before here turned home. Out of breath, he told his grandfather that it was impossible to carry water in a basket, and he went to get a bucket instead.
 
The old man said, "I don't want a bucket of water; I want a basket of water. You're just not trying hard enough," and he went out the door to watch the boy try again.
 
At this point, the boy knew it was impossible, but he wanted to show his grandfather that even if he ran as fast as he could, the water would leak out before he got back to the house. The boy again dipped the basket into river and ran hard, but when he reached his grandfather the basket was again empty.
 
Out of breath, he said, "See it is useless!"  "So you think it is useless?" The old man said, "Look at the basket."
 
The boy looked at the basket and for the first time realized that the basket was different. It had been transformed from a dirty old coal basket and was now clean, inside and out.
 
"Son, that's what happens when you read the Bhagavad Geeta. You might not understand or remember everything, but when you read it, you will be changed, inside and out. That is the work of GOD in our lives."

From “Sunrays for Thursday” by Priya & Sanjay Tandon

ON A COLD DAY IN THE HILLS

The sunlight was glistening through the rain drops on the leaves of the few trees on the hill side. An old man lay in his tiny little hut on a mountain side. It had been raining all night and the broken slates in the roof could not contain the rain water as it seeped its way down the cracks. The worn out cotton stuffed quilt, that covered the old man was damp and musty and a sickening odour emanated from it. The old man with his untidy mop of grey hair and an unsightly stubble on his jaw, lay shivering as his body burned and shivered with fever in the biting cold weather.

 A tourist bus happened to have a flat near the hut. While the driver and the bus conductor changed the wheel, the tourists stepped out to stretch their legs and get a whiff of the damp mountain air.  One of the tourists being one for adventure walked a few steps down the hill and saw the old man’s hut. He peeped in and was horrified at the scene that met his eye. He beckoned his friends to come closer. Being a journalist, this man clicked a picture of the old man and muttered something under his breath about writing an article in the news paper about today’s generation, neglecting aged parents and leaving them to suffer alone.

 Another one of the tourists was a doctor. He felt the old man’s pulse and said, “You need to get some blood tests done. You need an X-ray of your chest too. Here, you can take these tablets of Paracetamol, thrice a day. But you must get yourself examined. I think you may be having Pneumonia.” The old man nodded weakly, as the doctor got up to leave.  
Another one of the tourists was a Politician. He said, “We must make a law to have a home for the aged. I must talk to my party people and do something about this social evil.”

Amongst the tourists was a young girl. She was so moved by the plight of the suffering old man that she wept openly and had to be helped back to the bus and forced to sip some hot tea to get her back to normal. All day long she was quiet and forlorn because she couldn’t get the old man out of her mind.

One rich fellow tossed a couple of currency notes near the ailing man and rushed out of the dingy hut.
Last of all came a middle aged man who didn’t speak a word as he looked at that picture of human desperation and misery. He quietly walked back to the bus and came back, carrying his rucksack on his back. He helped the old man up and gave him some biscuits from his haversack. He opened a little flask of tea and poured it into a paper cup and held it to the quivering lips of the old man as he sipped it feebly. 

He gave him the Paracetamol tablet that the doctor had left earlier. He then helped the man to lie down again. He picked up his quilt and put it out on a bush for the Sun to dry up. The man got his own sleeping bag out of his rucksack and zipped up the old man into it. Next he got some adhesive tape out of his backpack and tried to plug the cracks in the roof.

The driver honked hard to call all his passengers to get back to the bus, for the wheel had been changed and they were ready and fit to resume their journey. But this man decided to stay for a while longer. He waved to the driver and said, “I’ll take the next bus. This fellow needs me more than I need the holiday. A few hours here and he’ll be well enough to be on his own. Then I’ll be on my way too.”

Many a times we come across such situations in our lives. It’s nice to give money or medical help. It’s great to be moved by the suffering of another. But if you can give time and love then you are the greatest!

A kind look or a loving word can sometimes give more comfort than money. Money surely makes our life comfortable but it’s not more valuable than time or love.
 

Life laughs at you when you are unhappy,
Life smiles at you when you are happy,
But salutes you when you make others happy.

From “Sunrays for Thursday” by Priya & Sanjay Tandon

WEAKNESS OR STRENGTH?

 
A 10-year-old boy decided to study judo despite the fact that he had lost his left arm in a devastating car accident. The boy began lessons with an old Japanese judo master.

The boy was doing well, so he couldn't understand why, after three months of training the master had taught him only one move.

"Sensei," the boy finally said, "Shouldn't I be learning more moves?" "This is the only move you know, but this is the only move you'll ever need to know," the Sensei replied.

Not quite understanding, but believing in his teacher, the boy kept training. Several months later, the Sensei took the boy to his first tournament.

Surprising himself, the boy easily won his first two matches. The third match proved to be more difficult, but after some time, his opponent became impatient and charged; the boy deftly used his one move to win the match.

Still amazed by his success, the boy was now in the finals. This time, his opponent was bigger, stronger, and more experienced. For a while, the boy appeared to be overmatched. Concerned that the boy might get hurt, the referee called a time-out. He was about to stop the match when the Sensei intervened. "No," the Sensei insisted, "Let him continue."

Soon after the match resumed, his opponent made a critical mistake: he dropped his guard. Instantly, the boy used his move to pin him. The boy had won the match and the tournament. He was the champion. On the way home, the boy and the Sensei reviewed every move in each and every match. Then the boy summoned the courage to ask what was really on his mind.

"Sensei, how did I win the tournament with only one move?" "You won for two reasons," the Sensei answered. "First, you've almost mastered one of the most difficult throws in all of judo. And second, the only known defence for that move is for your opponent to grab your left arm."

The boy's biggest weakness had become his biggest strength!

Source: Bits & Pieces

Sometimes we feel that we have certain weaknesses and so we tend to blame God, the circumstances or our own selves for it but we never know that our weakness can become our strength one day.
 

Each of us is special and important, so we should never dwell on any "weakness", pride or pain.
We should learn to just accept what is and live our life to the fullest; and extract the best out of it!

THE BUTCHER’S LESSON

Here is a strange story from our scriptures.
A young sanyasi did penance for many years. One day while he was sitting under a tree, some dry twigs and leaves fell on his head. He looked up and saw a crane and a crow fighting. He realized that the commotion created by their scuffle had caused the twigs to fall on his head. He shouted at them in anger. So intense was his angry gaze that the birds were reduced to ashes! The Sanyasi was overjoyed at his new found power.

Later he went to a nearby village to beg for food, as was the way of the Sanyasis in ancient times. He knocked at the door of a house. A lady called out saying, “Please wait for a while. I am just coming.” That angered him and he thought, “What an insolent woman; asking me to wait! She doesn’t know my powers!”
Barely had this thought crossed his mind that the lady called out. “Don’t be vain, Oh Sanyasi! I am neither a crow nor a crane!”

When she came out to give food to him, the bewildered Sanyasi, asked the lady, “How did you know what I was thinking? How do you know about the crow and the crane?”
She said, “I executed my duty towards my parents before I got married. Now I perform all my duties towards my husband diligently. When you called out for alms, I was attending to my husband who is very ill. That is the only yoga or dharma that I know. Discharging my dharma religiously has illumined me.”

The Sanyasi was quite taken aback. He said, “Can you teach me more about dharma?” She said, “If you want to learn more, go to the town nearby and meet the butcher there. You can learn a lot from him.”

So the Sanyasi went in search of the butcher. All the while, he was thinking, “A butcher is a chandala. In our country, they are the lowest caste of people. How can he give me knowledge?” Anyways, he found the butcher and watched him from afar, slaughtering the hens and goats. The Sanyasi thought, “How can this man know anything about duty? He is the devil personified.” Just then the butcher noticed the Sanyasi and asked, “Did the lady send you to me? Please wait, while I finish my work.”

After finishing his work for the day, the butcher took the Sanyasi to his house. There he looked after the personal needs of his aged parents. He washed and fed them and made them comfortable. Then he said to the Sanyasi, “Tell me my friend, what can I do for you?”

The Sanyasi questioned him about the Atma and the Paramatma. The butcher answered him and revealed his knowledge of the highest Vedanta philosophy. So deep was his knowledge about the subject that the Sanyasi was amazed. He said, “Such profound knowledge! Such insight! But why then, are you donning the form of a butcher? Why are you doing such dirty and despicable work?”

The butcher replied, “No work is low or dirty or despicable. It is your thoughts that make it so. I was born as the son of a butcher. I learnt this trade before I learnt to think for myself. It’s the only trade I know. But I am totally unattached to it. I perform my duties towards my parents and try to please them and make them comfortable. I do not know yoga or prayer, but all that I have learnt and told you is because I am doing my duty in my worldly position.” 

There is a great meaning in this. Firstly we must do the duty which is fostered upon us by our birth. Secondly, the duty conferred by our position. The execution of such duties with an unattached mind is what we must strive for. When we are unattached, we are not emotionally involved.  We do not think of doing the work for any benefits or returns. If our mind is focused on duty, then the execution of work would be merely a mechanical process, to which we have no karmic attachments.
 

This is extremely difficult, but the journey of life is full of try, try, try again till you succeed!”

From “Sunrays for Thursday” by Priya & Sanjay Tandon

ANANDA

Ananda was the cousin of the great Buddha. When Buddha attained enlightenment, Ananda decided to spend all his time with Him. Before taking initiation, he wanted to make sure that Buddha would not treat him at par with the other disciples and that he would retain his special status as the elder cousin brother of Buddha. So, Ananda said to Buddha, “Being my younger brother, it is your duty to obey me. After initiation, you shall become my master and I shall be your disciple.

Henceforth I shall not be able to ask you for anything or command you. So let me ask you for some things now, before I get initiated.” Buddha nodded and said, “As you please.”  Ananda continued, “My first wish is that I will always be with you. You shall never talk to anyone in secret. You shall never send me away. Secondly, if I want you to meet anyone at any time of the day or night, you shall not refuse to do so. Lastly, you and I shall sleep in the same room. I want to be always with you. Don’t forget these wishes of mine. Now I am ready, initiate me into Buddhism.”

So, Ananda became like a shadow to Buddha. Wherever Buddha went, Ananda was always by his side.
Many years later, one day Buddha declared, “It is time for me to depart now. By dusk tomorrow, I shall be gone. Call all the monks so that I can address them one last time.” By dawn next day, all the monks were back and gathered around Buddha. There were about a thousand enlightened monks. All of them were calm and composed, no one was crying or in grief.

All except Ananda, who had lived each moment of his life in the shadow of Buddha’s physical body! Ananda was in anguish. He was shedding tears and was inconsolable. Buddha looked at Ananda and smiled. “Why do you cry Ananda? I didn’t break my promises to you. I fulfilled all your desires,” he said. Ananda wailed, “What shall become of me? I breathed the same air as you did. I did everything that you did, but I have not attained the state of enlightenment. Without you, my life shall be hopeless. What shall I do without you?”

Buddha replied, “When you asked for three wishes, I knew that they would be a barrier to your spiritual progress, but you were not willing to forget that I was your younger sibling. You wanted to retain your privileges over others. Your surrender was conditional.  Perhaps my death shall make it unconditional!”

Buddha left his mortal coil. All enlightened monks congregated in close proximity to recollect and recount the words of the great master, so that they could be preserved for posterity. Ananda was not included in this congregation for he was a complete wreck emotionally. He was nowhere near enlightenment. 

As Ananda shed tears of agony, he felt totally helpless and alone. He realized what a futile life he had led with Buddha. He had seen everything, yet he had not seen. He had drunk from the fountain of nectar, but he had not tasted the nectar. In the midst of hundreds of monks, Ananda found himself to be absolutely alone. This helplessness and the vulnerability of his existent state raised a question within him. For the first time he felt a void within himself. He became aware of his unbridled ego and arrogance. A silence loomed around him as he realized that his master had left him and he was all alone. There was no hope for him. As he delved into this silence alone... he felt a transformation taking place. What had not happened in forty two years in Buddha’s presence, happened in one night of self introspection! Ananda became enlightened! A deep peace engulfed him and he became calm and one with the Eternal.

The monks realized that Ananda had attained enlightenment. They rejoiced! They welcomed him to their fold for it was Ananda alone, who could give the most accurate accounts of Buddha’s life, even though he had only been part of it just physically at that time.

We too let us be aware of the presence of the Lord at all time; let us feel Him with us in all that we make because He is always with us, in us, around us, and let us Him act through us.
 

 
 
Un mandarin partit un jour dans l’au-delà.
 
Il arriva d’abord en enfer. Il y vit beaucoup d’hommes, attablés devant des plats de riz ; mais tous mourraient de faim, car ils avaient des baguettes longues de deux mètres, et ne pouvaient s’en servir.
 
Puis il alla au ciel. Là aussi, il vit beaucoup d’hommes attablés devant des plats de riz ; et tous étaient heureux et en bonne santé, car eux aussi avaient des baguettes longues de deux mètres, mais chacun s’en servait pour nourrir celui qui était assis en face de lui.

La colombe et le Bodhisattva

Le Bodhisattva parcourait la campagne en quête de ce qu'il ne savait pas. Il marchait à pas lents, tantôt s'abîmant dans ses pensées, tantôt accrochant sa curiosité à la nature, somptueusement vêtu des couleurs de l'infiniment intelligent.
Soudain il vit une colombe, si fatiguée de brasser l'air lourd que sa chute était imminente.

En un ultime effort, elle parvint jusqu'au Sage et se laissa tomber à ses pieds.
- Je t'en supplie Bodhisattva, gémit-elle, sauve-moi ! Un vautour me poursuit depuis ce matin ; je suis épuisée et je n'ai plus d'espoir qu'en toi. Vois, le vautour arrive ... il est là !

En effet, un gros oiseau noir approchait du Sage, mais en volant lui aussi avec tant de maladresse que son épuisement faisait peine à voir.

Le Bodhisattva ramassa la colombe et la cacha dans sa tunique, en lui murmurant, avec toute sa tendresse fraternelle : - Paix en ton cœur, petite colombe. Je suis le Bodhisattva, je t'offre l'hospitalité de mon sein et tu n'as plus rien à craindre.

C'est alors que le vautour se posa devant lui, les plumes en désordre et visiblement harassé. - Par les dieux, murmura-t-il, je n'en puis plus après cette terrible matinée de chasse!    Bodhisattva, je t'ai vu cacher la colombe sous ta tunique, donne-la moi vite, car je me sens défaillir...

- Assurément, je ne te la donnerai pas, répondit-le Sage, car je lui ai garanti la sécurité, et les lois de l'hospitalité ne sauraient être transgressées sous peine de forfaiture.

- Cette colombe ne t'appartient pas, répliqua le vautour. Elle est à moi. Quand tu l'as ramassée, elle était à bout de forces et allait, en toute équité, tomber en mon pouvoir. Allons, donne-moi mon bien.
- Impossible !

- Réfléchis, Bodhisattva : je suis un vautour, c'est ma nature imposée par les dieux qui, de même, m'ont imposé ma nourriture. J'ai forcé la colombe. Elle est la récompense de mon travail de vautour et tu dois me la donner.

- Impossible, dit encore le Sage, mais on sentait qu'il avait la voix mal assurée. Je voudrais bien t'obliger, vautour, mais je ne le puis au prix que tu demandes. Repars à la chasse, c'est ce que tu as de mieux à faire.

- Repartir à la chasse? Tu plaisantes cruellement, Bodhisattva. Ne vois-tu pas que je suis incapable de voler. Qu'un renard me trouve en cet état et je suis perdu. Tu veux me mettre dans l'obligation de mourir de faim ou d'être dévoré par un ennemi ? Soit, je vais mourir mais tu porteras ce crime dans ta conscience.

Le Bodhisattva n'eut pas besoin d'une longue méditation pour comprendre que le vautour avait raison, mais la colombe aussi avait raison de vouloir sauver sa vie, et lui aussi avait eu raison d'offrir l'hospitalité de son sein. Pouvait-il dire à l'oiseau qu'il était le salaire légitime du vautour ? Devait-il laisser le vautour dévorer sa proie ? Son cœur fondait de pitié, d'amour et de cruelle incertitude. Sacrifier l'innocente colombe ? Impossible ! Sacrifier le vautour innocent ? Non. Il ne restait plus qu'une solution qui illumina le Bodhisattva.

- Tu as raison, vautour, dit-il, je ne dois pas te priver de ton salaire. Je vais donc t'offrir avec ma chair ce qui te revient de droit. Par miracle, un couteau et une balance surgirent devant le Sage qui posa la colombe dans un plateau, et dans l'autre, un gros morceau de chair prélevé sur son propre corps. Le fléau penchant du côté de l'oiseau, le Bodhisattva ajouta un autre morceau de sa chair, puis encore un autre, et un autre ... et toujours le fléau penchait du même côté, et le monceau de chair humaine ne pouvait peser aussi lourd que la frêle colombe. Alors, le Bodhisattva monta tout entier dans la balance dont les plateaux s'équilibrèrent aussitôt avec une exactitude rigoureuse.
Une vie pour une autre vie.

Le vautour, qui avait contemplé la scène en silence, battit des ailes et se métamorphosa.
- Je suis le Dieu Indra, dit-il, et je voulais t'éprouver.

Une pluie d'ambroisie tomba du ciel et guérit le Bodhisattva à qui le Dieu annonça qu'il se réincarnerait dans le corps du prochain Bouddha.

Tel fut l'enseignement initiatique du Bodhisattva.

Le bonheur de l'innocence

Comme ils se préparent à dîner dans un restaurant, un petit garçon de six ans demande à sa maman s'il peut prier le Seigneur et offrir les grâces.

Comme ils penchent leurs têtes, il dit : « Dieu est bon. Dieu est grand. Merci pour le manger, ... et je te remercierai même plus, si maman commandait de la crème glacée pour dessert. Et liberté et justice pour tous ! Amen ! »

À travers les rires des autres clients, Kim perçoit la remarque d'une dame : « C'est ce qui n'est pas correct dans ce pays. Les enfants aujourd'hui ne savent pas comment prier. Demander à Dieu de la crème glacée ! Pourquoi, je me le demande ! »

Kim fond en larmes, et demande à sa mère : « Est-ce que j'ai fait quelque chose de mal ? Est-ce que Dieu est choqué après moi ? » Pendant que la maman le prend contre elle et le rassure, elle lui dit qu'il a fait une prière fantastique et que Dieu n'est certainement pas choqué contre lui.

Un monsieur plus âgé s'approche alors de leur table, fait un clin d'œil au petit garçon et lui dit : - Je crois savoir que Dieu pense que ce fut une très belle prière.
- Réellement ? demande Kim.
- Croix sur mon cœur, reprend le monsieur. Et dans un murmure il ajoute (indiquant la dame qui était intervenue) : - C'est malheureux qu'elle n’ait jamais demandé à Dieu de la crème glacée. Car un peu de crème glacée est bon pour l'âme quelquefois.

Naturellement, à la fin du repas, la maman commanda de la crème glacée pour son petit garçon.
Mais ce qui arriva ensuite fut une complète surprise.

« Mon fils réfléchit un moment et il fit quelque chose dont je me souviendrai le reste de ma vie » explique la maman.  « Il prit sa glace et sans un mot, marcha vers la dame et la plaça devant elle.

Avec un grand sourire, il lui dit : « - Ceci est pour vous. La crème glacée est bonne pour l'âme quelquefois, et mon âme à moi est déjà bonne. »