The Moon Cannot Be Stolen
A master lived alone in a simple hut at the foot of a mountain. One night, a thief broke in, hoping to find something valuable. But the hut was so bare that there was nothing to steal—no gold, no jewelry, and not even food.
Hearing the commotion, the master awoke and caught the thief in the act. However, instead of being angry, he looked at the thief with me compassion and said,
“You’ve come such a long way to visit me. I cannot let you leave empty-handed.”
The master took off the robe he was wearing, handed it to the thief, and said warmly,
“Here, take my robe as a gift.”
The confused thief took the robe and fled into the night, unsure how to respond.
Later that night, the master sat quietly by the window, gazing at the brilliant full moon shining in the sky. After a while, he sighed gently to himself and said,
“Poor fellow, I wish I could give him this beautiful moon.”
A master lived alone in a simple hut at the foot of a mountain. One night, a thief broke in, hoping to find something valuable. But the hut was so bare that there was nothing to steal—no gold, no jewelry, and not even food.
Hearing the commotion, the master awoke and caught the thief in the act. However, instead of being angry, he looked at the thief with me compassion and said,
“You’ve come such a long way to visit me. I cannot let you leave empty-handed.”
The master took off the robe he was wearing, handed it to the thief, and said warmly,
“Here, take my robe as a gift.”
The confused thief took the robe and fled into the night, unsure how to respond.
Later that night, the master sat quietly by the window, gazing at the brilliant full moon shining in the sky. After a while, he sighed gently to himself and said,
“Poor fellow, I wish I could give him this beautiful moon.”
Space
I recently learnt that drinking yourself stupid doesn't help you forget. That it is something more subtle. The brain is like this sieve always collecting and withholding dust from this moment. When intoxicated though, those cells go on holiday. They stop storing information. It seems like something forgotten, but deep down there is nothing to remember. There is only space. Space from ourselves. Space is a beautiful thing. One must have space. The observable universe is expanding faster than light can go through. I often wonder if the mind of man can capture that. Right left centre, the little kids are hit with knowledge is the key, education is the light...like it is the highest principle. Most of us are well educated but what excellence has it brought to our live? Where is the space? Where is the beauty in man?( and woman of course) Is it just in the ass😂.
I recently learnt that drinking yourself stupid doesn't help you forget. That it is something more subtle. The brain is like this sieve always collecting and withholding dust from this moment. When intoxicated though, those cells go on holiday. They stop storing information. It seems like something forgotten, but deep down there is nothing to remember. There is only space. Space from ourselves. Space is a beautiful thing. One must have space. The observable universe is expanding faster than light can go through. I often wonder if the mind of man can capture that. Right left centre, the little kids are hit with knowledge is the key, education is the light...like it is the highest principle. Most of us are well educated but what excellence has it brought to our live? Where is the space? Where is the beauty in man?( and woman of course) Is it just in the ass😂.
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Those who makes us feel included ❤️
There goes a myth of a land called Samarkand. A land where the rich are kind and the poor have god. A fisher man's son heard this story. He set out to find the place. On his way he ran out of food and water. Soon afterwards he came across four monks and asked them for these things. Three of the monks pounced on him. One just sat back and watched. The boy tried fighting them off but didn't manage. All the tension left his body after realising the futility of using his strength. When he came to he found food and water left where the fourth monk sat. The boy could have just laid there and die. Instead he drinks, eats, continues on his pilgrim, finds Samarkand and ends up being a prophet. I probably would have laid there and wished for death. I am not simple enough to cast away defilement like some worn out slippers. Those were simple times, no videos to serve as a constant reminder. I think individuality robs us of our innocence. By innocence I mean a mind that is free from hurt. Try to imagine that. Being so open to pain that you can accept it completely. Unlike fishermen, we are also not conditioned to be humble. We are always guarding our cornerstone, our story. Our minds are weak from worrying about what the men will do to us. It's unlikely that the men will change but supposing they do, a worrying mind will always find something to worry about. You will worry about the bees stinging you. You will worry about snakes. Bacteria and viruses. Ugly frogs trespassing on your feet. Life is a risky affair. As much as we guard our stories, virtue demands that we breathe out. Can there be freedom without virtue?