In the Hands of Destiny

A great Japanese warrior named Nobunaga decided to attack the enemy although he had only one-tenth the number of men the opposition commanded. He knew that he would win, but his soldiers were in doubt.

On the way he stopped at a Shinto shrine and told his men: "After I visit the shrine I will toss a coin. If heads comes, we will win; if tails, we will lose. Destiny holds us in her hand."

Nobunaga entered the shrine and offered a silent prayer. He came forth and tossed a coin. Heads appeared. His soldiers were so eager to fight that they won their battle easily.

"No one can change the hand of destiny," his attendant told him after the battle.

"Indeed not," said Nobunaga, showing a coin which had been doubled, with heads facing either way.

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Zen koans such as that above encourage readers to learn not only to "read between the lines," but also "within the words." There is always more to such value tales than meets the eye.

A koan is a story that presents a paradox, a situation that baffles or makes no sense.  Yet, as a readers evolves, he realizes it is how he thinks that is unfounded.

Koans prompt you to alter perception of reality.
Once the mind is able to simplify, the paradox dissolves.

Additional Zen koans can be found at www.ashidaKim.com/zenkoans

Energize your spirit

An ancient saying goes, "We have no friends; we have no enemies; we only have teachers."

He placed a screwdriver in my outstretched hand. "My name doesn't matter; neither does yours.  What is important is what lies beyond names and beyond questions.  Now, you will need this screwdriver to take apart the carburetor," he pointed.

"Nothing lies beyond questions," I retorted.  "Like how did you fly on that rooftop?"

"I didn't fly--I jumped," was his poker-faced reply.  It's not magic, so don't get your hopes up.  In your case, however, I may have to perform some very difficult magic.  It looks as if I'm going to have to transform a jackass into a human being."

"Who the hell do you think you are, anyway, to be saying these things to me?"

"I am a warrior!" he snapped.  "Beyond that, who I am depends on who you want me to be."

"Can't you just answer a straight question?" I attacked the carburetor with a vengeance.

"Ask me one and I'll try," he said, smiling innocently.  The screwdriver slipped and I skinned my finger. "Damn!" I yelled, going to the sink to wash the cut. Socrates handed me a Band-Aid.

"All right then.  Here is a straight question."  I determined to keep my voice patient.  "How can you be useful to me?"

"I have already been useful to you," he replied. pointing to the bandage in my finger.

That did it.  "Look, I can't waste my time here any longer.  I need to get some sleep."  I put the carburetor down and got ready to leave.

"How do you know you haven't been asleep your whole life?  How do you know you're not asleep right now?" he intoned,  a twinkle in his eye.

"Whatever you say."  I was too tired to argue anymore."

Excerpt taken from Dan Millman's Way of the Peaceful Warrior: A Book that Changes Lives

Revise your view of pride

An elderly African woman had two, large clay pots.  Each hung on the ends of a wooden beam which she carried across her neck.  One of the pots had a crack in it while the other was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water.  Each day she walked the same path and when she reached the house, the cracked pot would be half empty.

The poor cracked pot was ashamed of its flaw, and unhappy it could only do half of what it had been made to do.  One day, it said to the woman, "Why do you bother carrying me?, I have a crack and I leak.  You are really wasting your time and energy on me."

The woman smiled and said to the cracked pot, "Tomorrow, I will use you again and collect water and as we make our way back up from the stream, I want you to look on both sides of the road."  The cracked pot did that and was astonished to see that on one side of the road there were beautiful flowers.

The woman said to the cracked pot, "I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them.  For the last couple of years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table.  Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace my house."

Every human being has unique imperfections.  It is our perceived cracks and flaws that make our lives and interactions worthwhile.  They give unlimited opportunities to learn.  You can evolve to accept people as they are.  Consciously choose to see the good.

Thus, if you are carrying a full clay pot of water, do so with pride.  If you are a pot with a crack, carry what you can and enrich the world in your own special way.  Do not give up.  You always have something to give. You may simply overlook it or forget what matters.

This old folk tale reminded me of the intrinsic value of people I know and have known.  I think especially of loved ones who have suffered illness and mood swings which make it seem like they are not themselves.  Life experience teaches me to see through the fog.  Love everyone as they are, even yourself.  The quickest way to receive love is to give.

Were you born to go a different way?

I have been a misfit since childhood. No one understood me, not even my father.

He once said, "You are not a madman, fit to be put in a madhouse, nor are you monk to be put in a monastery. I just don't know what you are!"

I replied: "You know, father, I can tell you what it is like. Once a duck egg was put under a hen to be hatched. When the egg hatched, the duckling walked along with the mother hen until they came to a pond. The duckling took a nice dip in the water. But the hen stayed on the bank and clucked. Now, my dear father, after having tried the sea I find it my home. If you choose to stay on the shore, is it my fault? I am not to be blamed."

There are some who are born to go a very different way.

~Sufi Tale by Shams-e Tabrizi

What would you do?

What would you do? You make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: 'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?' The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.' Then he told the following:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.' Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt.

His Father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field.

Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat. At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?

Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball. However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed.

The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher. The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first! Run to first!' Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball ... the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.

He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay!'

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third! Sha y, run to third!' As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!' Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'. Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!