There once was a king who offered a
prize to the artist
who would paint the best picture of peace. Many artists
tried. The king looked at all the pictures. But there
were only two he really liked, and he had to choose
between them.
One picture was of a calm lake.
The lake was a
perfect mirror for peaceful towering mountains all around
it. Overhead was a blue sky with fluffy white clouds.
All who saw this picture thought that it was a perfect
picture of peace.
The other picture had mountains,
too. But these were rugged
and bare. Above was an angry sky, from which rain fell and in
which lightning played. Down the side of the mountain tumbled a
foaming waterfall. This did not look peaceful at all.
But when the king looked closely,
he saw behind the waterfall a tiny bush growing in a crack in
the rock. In the bush a mother bird had built her nest. There,
in the midst of the rush of angry water, sat the mother bird on
her nest - in perfect peace.
Which picture do you think won
the prize? The king chose the second picture. Do you know why?
"Because," explained the king,
"peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise,
trouble, or hard work. Peace means to be in the midst of all
those things and still be calm in your heart. That is the real
meaning of peace."
"Whenever anyone has offended me,
I try to raise my soul so high
that the offense cannot reach it."
When just
starting out on a new journey it's only natural to feel vulnerable.
After all, it may seem that you have much to lose. But may I remind you
that never again, at any other point in the same journey, will you have
so much to gain."
The grass is
not, in fact, always greener on the other side of the fence. No, not at
all. Fences have nothing to do with it. The grass is greenest where it
is watered. When crossing over fences, carry water with you and tend the
grass where ever you may be."
Whatever else you do or forbear,
impose upon yourself the task of happiness;
and now and then abandon yourself
to the joy of laughter.
And however much you condemn the evil in the world,
remember that the world is not all evil;
that somewhere children are at play,
as you yourself in the old days;
that women still find joy in the stalwart hearts of men;
And that men,
treading with restless feet their many paths,
may yet find refuge from the storms of the world
in the cheerful house of love."ff
Perfection, then, is finally achieved, not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away."
The child whispered, 'God, speak to me'
And a meadow lark sang.
The child did not hear.
So the child yelled, 'God, speak to me!'
And the thunder rolled across the sky
But the child did not listen.
The child looked around and said,
'God let me see you' and a star shone brightly
But the child did not notice
And the child shouted,
'God show me a miracle!'
And a life was born but the child did not know.
So the child cried out in despair,
'Touch me God, and let me know you are here!'
Whereupon God reached down
And touched the child.
But the child brushed the butterfly away
And walked away unknowingly."
