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. »
 
 