Nithyananda, Sweet Stories & Perspective

A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral. ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery

How much is reality? How much our perspective?

Three small sweet stories told by Nithyananda on his blog - Nithyananda Newsletter

("We all are ready to categorize and label all that we see in our lives. In the event, we simply rob life of its spontaneity. We categorize people, places, situations, everything that comes our way.")

A man once went to a movie theatre to watch a film.
The film started with the caption(logo) of a famous International Studio, which had produced that film.
The man said to himself, “Oh! I’ve seen this movie before!” and got up and walked away.


One man went to Switzerland for a holiday and returned after a month.
He met his friend one evening and decided to go out for a meal.
The friend asked him, “So did you enjoy the beautiful scenery in Switzerland?”
The man replied, “Yes, kind of. But the mountains kept coming in the way.”


("Anything that you see becomes merely a supportive argument to your already formed conclusions.")

One man was telling his friend, “Do you know, I really made a fool of myself.”
The friend asked, “Why, what happened?”
The man said, “I replaced ten cracked windows in my house and then discovered that I had a crack in my glasses!”

How nice it is to look at things with a fresh perspective. Every moment has it's own unique flavor whether we recognize it or not. I've just eaten a handful of beautiful rich red cherries. All delicious yet none of them the exact same taste - the mixture of sweet & sour shifts bite to bite changing in complexity. Each moment an intersection of who we are mixed with all the elements seen and unseen - simply infinite.

Becoming Me

This picture - Catching a Break - emerged from the scan of the side of an orange crate.

"Listen attentively, and remember that true tales are meant to be transmitted-to keep them to oneself is to betray them." Anonymous (Found in the book Creating A Life Worth Living by Carol Lloyd)

When I was young, my mother would appear by my room, and excitedly beckon me to come see something quickly. Dragging my feet I would leave my television show, only to find she wanted to show me a sunset, a cloud formation, or a bird resting on one of our trees. My response was often a groan, and a quick return to the TV. Sometimes indignant that she could have thought such "things" more important than my show. At this moment, what pops into my head is Joni Mitchell's line, "don't know what you've got til it's gone."

Sorry, Mama, really sorry. You tried so hard to share your love and appreciation of the ephemeral beauty. Each a unique and special moment never to exist again. Maybe you knew something about the importance of being a witness. I don't know I never asked you. I am humbly grateful that without pause I stop to witness: the crow alight the tip of the tree;
the leaf falling in whirls, the child's toy skittering across the miniature parking lot ponds leaving wakes and waves.

I grew up in a house that was never without canvases, drawing pads, pencils, paints, crayons, easels, artist's palettes. I never even had that thought until yesterday. Except for a quick foray in selling art for greeting cards in my 20's, I didn't do much in creating physical, tangible art for decades. But, I have always kept a wealth of various art supplies, often giving some of them to others that I thought might use them, but never without them. Then, again, I love paper in various textures and colors, pens-marvelous marking tools, pencils in a myriad of colors. Maybe, it's because they have always been part of my life, maybe they are pieces of my childhood, or maybe because they are wondrous things.

In honor of my mother, I invite you to see some interesting things I've found:

Cloud Appreciation Society. Did you know they had one?

Lost & Taken as a lot of good texture freebies like 7 Ink & Tea Stained Paper Textures ("These high-res ink & tea textures were soaked in weak tea.") & 25 watercolor textures. Plain fun to look at and admire as well as use.

"I hope you will go out and let stories happen to you, and that you will work them, water them with your blood and tears and your laughter till they bloom, till you yourself burst into bloom." Clarissa Pinkola Estes

May you be as well as do

(And, Mama, it wasn't just you, sadly, "they" still have a hard time pulling me away from the TV.)

Thoughts on Sacred Stories & 2 Old Zen Tales

Be amusing: never tell unkind stories; above all, never tell long ones." Benjamin Disraeli

I woke up yesterday morning with a most unusual thought, unusual as it was new. I am the only left who holds our sacred family stories. It made me think of indigenous people where stories and the right to tell them. We have no such known tradition in my nuclear family which are all deceased as are grandparents on both sides. And, I have some distant cousins out there that I'm not in contact with. I have no way of knowing how much or how little of our family history or stories they carry. Still it feels like both poignant and potent thought. And doesn't anyone I've ever talked with hold a piece of my story even those whose paths I've crossed in silent are a part of me as I am of them. I will think on this more, feeling tumble around, snippets of family incidents flash in and out. I dismiss some as unimportant, yet again come to conclusion they are part of me. Some I will share here as I have shared in conversations over the years wondering if the details still match that old reality. Now, I want to share two Zen stories I get get pleasure from each time they appear.

From the website Zen Stories To Tell Your Neighbor:

Knowing Fish

One day Chuang Tzu and a friend were walking by a river. "Look at the fish swimming about," said Chuang Tzu, "They are really enjoying themselves."

"You are not a fish," replied the friend, "So you can't truly know that they are enjoying themselves."

"You are not me," said Chuang Tzu. "So how do you know that I do not know that the fish are enjoying themselves?"

Obsessed

Two traveling monks reached a river where they met a young woman. Wary of the current, she asked if they could carry 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."

It's great the way inklings of truth can slide right in with a story.