Sunday, September 29, 2013
With so little good news lately and our government poised to lay off 800,000 employees, one could be forgiven for reaching for the razorblades. So, I decided to to post something lighter.
This is Chapter 22 of my non-fiction book, Namaste: If Not Now, When?
The Importance Of Laughter
Just as perfection never is attainable, becoming a warrior is a never-ending developmental process. A key part of that process is laughter, particularly the ability to pop your bubble of self-importance by laughing at your own know-it-all self. Since I am married to Crane-Station, I do not have to worry about deflating my sense of self-importance, as she manages that chore rather well, ahem! And I do laugh, although not always at first.
The Mullah Nasruddin was invited to deliver a sermon. When he reached the pulpit, he asked the people,
Do you know what I am going to say?
They replied “no.”
“I have no desire to speak to people who don’t even know what I will be talking about!” the Mullah said, and he turned his back to the people and left the building.
Feeling extremely embarrassed, the people invited him back the next day. This time, when he asked the same question, they replied, “yes.”
Nasruddin said, “Well, since you already know what I am going to say, I won’t waste any more of your time!”
As he had done the previous day, he turned and left the building.
Now the people were really perplexed. They decided to try one more time and once again invited the Mullah to speak the following week.
As expected, he asked the same question, “Do you know what I am going to say?”
The people were prepared, so half of them answered “yes” while the other half replied “no.”
Without missing a beat, Nasruddin said, “Let the half who know what I am going to say, tell it to the half who don’t.”
Then he turned and left the building.
A warrior does not know when Death is going to reach out and claim his physical form. Therefore, he assumes that it can happen anytime. With that in mind, he decides what to do and when to do it focusing all of his attention, energy, and will on acting impeccably while he is doing it.
There is no time for remorse or second thoughts. A warrior accepts full responsibility for all of his decisions because he is literally ready to die for them.
He never sees himself as a victim and never wallows in self-pity.
He is never bored, resentful, helpless, bewildered or frightened.
Instead, his acts are focused and powerful because he never wastes energy or time reacting to what others say or do.
He never makes excuses because he understands that excuses are irrelevant and unnecessary when he does his best.
For a warrior there is time only for his impeccability.
Everything else drains his power; impeccability replenishes it.
He controls his destiny and he is happy and free because he is in charge of his life.
Because of the relationship he chooses to have with his death, he knows that no decision he makes is more or less important than any other. They are all important because each one might be his last.
Because of his focus and detachment, however, he also understands that they are all equally unimportant.
He sees his own imperfections and self-importance and he acquires power by laughing at himself. As he does, he sees imperfections and self-importance in others and their clueless pretensions, disorder, and confusion until one day when he realizes he has forever transformed and can never go back.
A renowned philosopher and moralist, who was traveling through the Mullah Nasruddin’s village one day, stopped and asked him where there was a good place to eat. Nasruddin suggested a place and the scholar, hungry for conversation, invited Nasruddin to join him. Much obliged, Nasruddin accompanied the scholar to a nearby restaurant, where they asked the waiter about the special of the day.
“ Fish! Fresh Fish!” said the waiter.
“Bring us two,” they answered.
A few minutes later, the waiter brought out a large platter with two cooked fish on it. One fish was quite a bit smaller than the other.
Without hesitating, Nasruddin speared the larger of the fish and placed it in on his own plate.
The scholar, giving Nasruddin a look of intense disbelief, proceeded to tell him that what he did was not only blatantly selfish, but that it violated the principles of almost every known moral, religious, and ethical system.
Nasruddin calmly listened to the philosopher’s extemporaneous lecture patiently, and when he had finally lapsed into a ruddy silence, Nasruddin said,
“Well, Sir, what would you have done?”
“I, being a conscientious human, would have taken the smaller fish for myself.”
“And here you are,” Mullah Nasruddin said, and placed the smaller fish on the gentleman’s plate.
Producing articles and maintaining this blog requires substantial time and effort. Please take a moment and consider making a donation.
As you depend on us, we depend on you.
We need your help!
Fred and Crane