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Author: lyhmsia

Interesting/Inspirational Stories, Proverb and Saying

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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 4-11-2004 10:23 AM | Show all posts
I am poor and naked, but I am the chief of the nation. We do not want riches but we do want to train our children right. Riches would do us no good. We could not take them with us to the other world. We do not want riches. We want peace and love.
         
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 4-11-2004 10:26 AM | Show all posts
The Great Crossing

The Buddha said: "A man beginning a long journey sees ahead a vast body of water. There is neither boat nor bridge. To escape the dangers of his present location, he constructs a raft of grass and branches. When he reaches the other side he realizes how useful the raft was and wonders if he should hoist it on his back and carry it with him forever. Now if he did this, would he be wise? Or, having crossed to safety, should he place the raft in a high dry location for someone else to use? This is the way I have taught the dharma, the doctrine - for crossing, not for keeping. Cast aside evey proper state of mind, oh monks - much less wrong ones - and remember well to leave the raft behind!"
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 4-11-2004 10:28 AM | Show all posts
Gratitude
Fred: "Why must we bow at the end of a meditation period?"
Ho Chi Zen: "To thank God it's over."
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 4-11-2004 10:37 AM | Show all posts
A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his master's house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you."

"Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"

"I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.

The water bearer's heart went out to the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt sad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure. The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."
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Adm_Cheng_Ho This user has been deleted
Post time 4-11-2004 11:27 AM | Show all posts
Originally posted by lyhmsia at 19-10-2004 12:03 PM:
Who is the real fool?
The fool who does not admit he is a fool, is a real fool.

And the fool who admits he is a fool is wise to that extent at least.
~Buddha, DH.~

Reminds me of...

"A person who asks a question is a fool for 5 minutes.
A person who doesn't is a fool forever...
"
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 5-11-2004 05:48 AM | Show all posts
A Sufi Story from the Middle East

Mula came upon a frowning man walking along the road to town. "What's wrong?" he asked.

The man held up a tattered bag and moaned, "All that I own in this wide world barely fills this miserable, wretched sack."

"Too bad," said Mula, and with that, he snatched the bag from the man's hands and ran down the road with it.

Having lost everything, the man burst into tears and, more miserable than before, continued walking. Meanwhile, Mula quickly ran around the bend and placed the man's sack in the middle of the road where he would have to come upon it.

When the man saw his bag sitting in the road before him, he laughed with joy, and shouted, "My sack! I thought I'd lost you!"

Watching through the bushes, Mula chuckled. "Well, that's one way to make someone happy!"
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 5-11-2004 05:50 AM | Show all posts
A Jewish Folktale

A beggar found a leather purse that someone had dropped in the marketplace. Opening it, he discovered that it contained 100 pieces of gold. Then he heard a merchant shout, "A reward! A reward to the one who finds my leather purse!"

Being an honest man, the beggar came forward and handed the purse to the merchant saying, "Here is your purse. May I have the reward now?"

"Reward?" scoffed the merchant, greedily counting his gold. "Why the purse I dropped had 200 pieces of gold in it. You've already stolen more than the reward! Go away or I'll tell the police."

"I'm an honest man," said the beggar defiantly. "Let us take this matter to the court."

In court the judge patiently listened to both sides of the story and said, "I believe you both. Justice is possible! Merchant, you stated that the purse you lost contained 200 pieces of gold. Well, that's a considerable cost. But, the purse this beggar found had only 100 pieces of gold. Therefore, it couldn't be the one you lost."

And, with that, the judge gave the purse and all the gold to the beggar.
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 5-11-2004 06:01 AM | Show all posts
When Truth Dawned

Ryokan, the Zen teacher, was requested by his sister-in-law to come to her house and talk to her son.
揌e does no work, squanders his father抯 money in wild parties and is neglecting the estate,
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 10-11-2004 05:36 AM | Show all posts
No Loving-Kindness
There was an old woman in China who had supported a monk for over twenty years. She had built a little hut for him and fed him while he was meditating. Finally she wondered just what progress he had made in all this time.

To find out, she obtained the help of a girl rich in desire. "Go and embrace him," she told her, "and then ask him suddenly: `What now?'"

The girl called upon the monk and without much ado caressed him, asking him what he was going to do about it.

"An old tree grows on a cold rock in winter," replied the monk somewhat poetically. "Nowhere is there any warmth."

The girl returned and related what he had said.

"To think I fed that fellow for twenty years!" exclaimed the old woman in anger. "He showed no consideration for your needs, no disposition to explain your condition. He need not have responded to passion, but at least he should have evidenced some compassion."

She at once went to the hut of the monk and burned it down.
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 10-11-2004 05:42 AM | Show all posts
A Buddha
In Tokyo in the Meiji era there lived two prominent teachers of opposite characteristics. One, Unsho, an instructor in Shingon, kept Buddha's precepts scrupulously. He never drank intoxicants, nor did he eat after eleven o'clock in the morning. The other teacher, Tanzan, a professor of philosophy at the Imperial University, never observed the precepts. Whenever he felt like eating, he ate, and when he felt like sleeping in the daytime he slept.

One day Unsho visited Tanzan, who was drinking wine at the time, not even a drop of which is suppposed to touch the tongue of a Buddhist.

"Hello, brother," Tanzan greeted him. "Won't you have a drink?"

"I never drink!" exclaimed Unsho solemnly

"One who does not drink is not even human," said Tanzan.

"Do you mean to call me inhumam just because I do not indulge in intoxicating liquids!" exclaimed Unsho in anger. "Then if I am not human, what am I?"

"A Buddha," answered Tanzan.

(Note: It's not about encouraging drinking alcohol)
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 10-11-2004 05:45 AM | Show all posts
Not Far from Buddha
A university student while visiting Gasan asked him: "Have you ever read the Christian Bible?"

"No, read it to me," said Gasan.

The student opened the bible and read from St. Matthew: "And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lillies of the field, how they grow. They toil not, neither do they spin, and yet I say unto you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. ... Take therefore no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for things of itself."

Gasan said: "Whoever uttered those words I consider an enlightened man."

The student continued reading: "Ask and it shall be given to you, seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you. For everyone that asketh receiveth, and he that seeketh findeth, and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened."

Gasan remarked: "That is excellent. Whoever said that is not far from Buddhahood."
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 10-11-2004 05:51 AM | Show all posts
Every Minute Zen


Zen students are with their masters at least ten years before they presume to teach others. Nan-in was visited by Tenno, who, having passed his apprenticeship, had become a teacher. The day happened to be rainy, so Tenno wore wooden clogs and carried an umbrella. After greeting him Nan-in remarked: "I suppose you left your wooden clogs in the vestibule. I want to know if your umbrella is on the right or left side of the clogs."

Tenno, confused, had no instant answer. He realized he was unable to carry his Zen every minute. He became Nan-in's pupil, and studied six more years to accomplish his every-minute Zen.

My opinion:
Focus on what you do every minute and ever second. Be mindful.
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 10-11-2004 05:58 AM | Show all posts
Holy Man

Word spread across the countryside about the wise Holy Man who lived in a small house atop the mountain. A man from the village decided to make the long and difficult journey to visit him. When he arrived at the house, he saw an old servant inside. "I would like to see the Holy Man," he said to the servant. The servant smiled and led him inside. As they walked through the house, the man from the village looked eagerly around the house, anticipating his encounter with the Holy Man. Before he knew it, he had been led to the back door and escorted outside. He stopped and turned to the servant, "But I want to see the Holy Man!"
"You already have," said the wise-old man. "Everyone you may meet in life, even if they appear plain and insignificant, see each of them as a Holy Man. If you do this, then whatever problem you brought here today will be solved."
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 10-11-2004 06:11 AM | Show all posts
The tale about two less-than-brilliant countrymen who hired a boat and went fishing. The men caught some fine fish. When they were going home, one said to the other, "How are we going to make our way back to that wonderful fishing place again?" The second said, "I thought of that -- I marked the boat with chalk!" "You fool!" said the first. "That's no good. Supposing next time they give us a different boat?"

From Sufism
I post it because I thought it's funny.
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 10-11-2004 06:19 AM | Show all posts
A group of Chinese and Greek artists disputed before a certain Sultan Shoeb which of them were the better artists.

The Chinese said, "Our skills are great," and the Greeks said, "Our artistic abilities are superior."

In order to settle the dispute, Sultan Shoeb decided to put them both to the test. He allotted each a house to paint. The Chinese asked the Sultan for a hundred colors and he willingly opened his paint treasury and told them to take all they needed. The Greeks, on the other hand, informed the Sultan that they did not need any colors for their house.

When the Chinese finished their work they beat drums and danced in jubilation. They invited the Sultan to judge their house. He was extremely impressed since, they had colored their house in the most elaborate way with all different shades of each color of the rainbow.

The Greeks used no colors at all. They cleaned the walls of their house making them clear and bright. The Sultan was amazed to see all the colors of the Chinese house reflected on the walls of the Greek house covering a wide variety of shades and hues.

Note: The Greek artists in this story represent those who have polished their hearts and made them pure of greed and hatred. The walls the Greeks polished represent a pure heart which is like a mirror that receives innumerable images, and the Perfect Person is a microcosm in which all the divine attributes are reflected as in a mirror.

From Sufism
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 11-11-2004 03:33 AM | Show all posts
The Legend of the Starfish

A vacationing businessman was walking along a beach when he saw a young boy. Along the shore were many starfish that had been washed up by the tide and were sure to die before the tide returned. The boy was walked slowly along the shore and occasionally reached down and tossed the beached starfish back into the ocean. The businessman, hoping to teach the boy a little lesson in common sense, walked up to the boy and said, "I have been watching what you are doing, son. You have a good heart, and I know you mean well, but do you realize how many beaches there are around here and how many starfish are dying on every beach every day. Surely such an industrious and kind hearted boy such as yourself could
find something better to do with your time. Do you really think that what you are doing is going to make a difference?" The boy looked up at the man, and then he looked down at a starfish by his feet. He picked up the starfish, and as he gently tossed it back into the ocean, he said, "It makes a difference to that one."


My own experience:
A friend of mine though he is poor but enjoy helping people. I guess his part time job is helping others that in need. Though he have a sincere heart of helping others but a lot of typical Malaysian laugh at him and called him "KPC" (Busybody). Nevertheless, he continued helping others till today. He told me if we don't help them what going to happen to the helpless?
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 11-11-2004 03:35 AM | Show all posts
As the deadline for a major project drew near at our publishing firm,
both our facsimile machines were put to the test. Secretaries were
sending and receiving messages, making last-minute corrections and
additions. One young assistant, holding a handful of new instructions
to be distributed to various departments, asked the office manager,
"Whatever did we do befoce fax machines?" A man of few words, the
manager replied, "We did things _on time_."

My opinion:
As we create more and more high tech stuff we're further away from our spiritual self.
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 16-11-2004 10:14 PM | Show all posts
HEARING THE CRICKET

A Native American and his friend were in downtown New York City,
walking near Times Square in Manhattan. It was during the noon lunch
hour and the streets were filled with people. Cars were honking their
horns, taxicabs were squealing around corners, sirens were wailing,
and the sounds of the city were almost deafening.
Suddenly, the Native American said, "I hear a cricket."
His friend said, "What? You must be crazy. You couldn't possibly hear a
cricket in all of this noise!"
"No, I'm sure of it," the Native American said, "I heard a cricket."
"That's crazy," said the friend.
The Native American listened carefully for a moment, and then walked
across the street to a big cement planter where some shrubs were
growing. He looked into the bushes, beneath the branches, and sure
enough, he located a small cricket.
His friend was utterly amazed. "That's incredible," said his friend.
"You must have superhuman ears!"
"No," said the Native American. "My ears are no different from yours.
It all depends on what you're listening for."
"But that can't be!" said the friend. "I could never hear a cricket in
this noise."
"Yes, it's true," came the reply. "It depends on what is really
important to you. Here, let me show you." He reached into his pocket,
pulled out a few coins, and discreetly dropped them on the sidewalk.
And then, with the noise of the crowded street still blaring in their
ears, they noticed every head within twenty feet turn and look to see
if the money that tinkled on the pavement was theirs.
"See what I mean?" asked the Native American. "It all depends on
what's important to you."
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 20-11-2004 02:33 AM | Show all posts
PAPPY AND THE BELL

Pappy was a pleasant-looking old fellow.  He had the whitest hair
which he kept neatly cut and combed.  His eyes were blue, though
faded with age, and they seemed to emit a warmth from within.  His
face was quite drawn, but when he smiled, even his wrinkles seemed to
soften and smile with him.
He had a talent for whistling and did so happily each day as he
dusted and swept his pawnshop; even so, he had a secret sadness, but
everyone who knew him respected and adored him.
Most of Pappy's customers returned for their good, and he did not do
much business, but he did not mind.  To him, the shop was not a
livelihood as much as a welcome pastime.
There was a room in the back of his shop where he spent time
tinkering with a menagerie of his own precious items.  He referred to
this back room as "memory hall."  In it were pocket watches, clocks,
and electric trains.  There were miniature steam engines and antique
toys made of wood, tin, or cast iron, and there were various other
obsolete trinkets as well.  Spending time in memory hall delighted
him as he recalled many treasured moments from his past.  He handled
each item with care, and sometimes he would close his eyes and pause
to relive a sweet, simple childhood memory.
One day, Pappy was working to his heart's content reassembling an old
railroad lantern.  As he worked, he whistled the melody of a railroad
tune and reminisced about his own past as a switchman.  It was a
typical day at the shop.  Outside, the sun illuminated the clear sky,
and a slight wind passed through the front screen door.  Whenever the
weather was this nice, Pappy kept the inner door open.  He enjoyed
the fresh air--almost as much as the distinctive smell of antiques
and old engine oil.
As he was polishing his newly restored lantern, he heard the tinkling
of his bell on the shop door.  The bell, which produced a uniquely
charming resound, had been in Pappy's family for over a hundred
years.  He cherished it dearly and enjoyed sharing its song with all
who came to his shop.  Although the bell hung on the inside of the
main door, Pappy had strung a wire to the screen door so that
it would ring whether the inner door was open or not.  Prompted by
the bell, he left memory hall to greet his customer.
At first, he did not see her. Her shiny, soft curls barely topped the
counter. "And how can I help you, little lady?"  Pappy's voice was
jovial.
"Hello, sir."  The little girl spoke almost in a whisper. She was
dainty.  Bashful. Innocent. She looked at Pappy with her big brown
eyes, then slowly scanned the room in search of something special.
Shyly she told him, "I'd like to buy a present, sir."
"Well, let's see," Pappy said, "who is this present for?"
"My grandpa.  It's for my grandpa.  But I don't know what to get."
Pappy began to make suggestions.  "How about a pocket watch?  It's in
good condition.  I fixed it myself," he said proudly.
The little girl didn't answer. She had walked to the doorway and put
her small hand on the door. She wiggled the door gently to ring the
bell. Pappy's face seemed to glow as he saw her smiling with
excitement.
"This is just right," the little girl bubbled. "Momma says grandpa
loves music."
Just then, Pappy's expression changed. Fearful of breaking the little
girl's heart, he told her, "I'm sorry, missy.  That's not for sale.
Maybe your grandpa would like this little radio."
The little girl looked at the radio, lowered her head, and sadly
sighed, "No, I don't think so."
In an effort to help her understand, Pappy told her the story of how
the bell had been in his family for so many years, and that was why
he didn't want to sell it.
The little girl looked up at him, and with a giant tear in her eye,
sweetly said, "I guess I understand.  Thank you, anyway."
Suddenly, Pappy thought of how the rest of the family was all gone
now, except for his estranged daughter whom he had not seen in nearly
a decade.  Why not, he thought. Why not pass it on to someone who
will share it with a loved one?  God only knows where it will end up
anyway.
"Wait...little lady."  Pappy spoke just as the little girl was going
out the door--just as he was hearing his bell ring for the last time.
"I've decided to sell the bell.  Here's a hanky.  Blow your nose."
The little girl began to clap her hands.  "Oh, thank you, sir.
Grandpa will be so happy."
"Okay, little lady. Okay." Pappy felt good about helping the child;
he knew, however, he would miss the bell.  "You must promise to take
good care of the bell for your grandpa--and for me, too, okay?"  He
carefully placed the bell in a brown paper bag.
"Oh, I promise," said the little girl. Then, she suddenly became very
still and quiet.  There was something she had forgotten to ask.  She
looked up at Pappy with great concern, and again almost in a whisper,
asked, "How much will it cost?"
"Well, let's see. How much have you got to spend?" Pappy asked with a
grin. The child pulled a small coin purse from her pocket then
reached up and emptied two dollars and forty-seven cents onto the
counter. After briefly questioning his own sanity, Pappy said,
"Little lady, this is your lucky day. That bell costs exactly two
dollars and forty-seven cents."
Later that evening as Pappy prepared to close up shop, he found
himself thinking about his bell. Already he had decided not to put up
another one. He thought about the child and wondered if her grandpa
like his gift.  Surely he would cherish anything from such a precious
grandchild.
At that moment, just as he was going to turn off the light in memory
hall, Pappy thought he heard his bell.  Again, he questioned his
sanity; he turned toward the door, and there stood the little girl.
She was ringing the bell and smiling sweetly.
Pappy was puzzled as he strolled toward the small child. "What's
this, little lady?  Have you changed your mind?"
"No," she grinned.  "Momma says it's for you."
Before Pappy had time to say another word, the child's mother stepped
into the doorway, and choking back a tear, she gently said, "Hello,
Dad."
The little girl tugged on her grandpa's shirttail. "Here, Grandpa.
Here's your hanky.  Blow your nose."
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lyhmsia This user has been deleted
 Author| Post time 20-11-2004 02:35 AM | Show all posts
The Fisherman

The American businessman was at the pier of a small coastal
Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked.
Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American
complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked
how long it took to catch them.

The Mexican replied only a little while. The American then asked
why didn't he stay out longer and catch more fish? The Mexican said
he had enough to support his family's immediate needs. The American
then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?" The
Mexican fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with
my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the
village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I
have a full and busy life, senior."

The American scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you.
You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a
bigger boat with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy
several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats.
Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to
the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would
control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to
leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then
LA and eventually NYC where you will run your expanding
enterprise."

The Mexican fisherman asked, "But senior, how long will this all
take?"

To which the American replied, "15-20 years."

"But what then, senior?"

The American laughed and said that's the best part. "When the
time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock
to the public and become very rich, you would make millions."

"Millions, senior? Then what?"

The American said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small
coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play
with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village
in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar
with your amigos."


My opinion
HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?
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