COFFEE CUPS ~ A PARABLE

THIS is a wonderful little story. Please enjoy.

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers,
got together to visit their old university professor.
Conversation soon turned into complaints
about stress in work and life.

Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen
and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups
~ porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking
, some expensive, some exquisite ~
telling them to help themselves to the coffee.




When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand,
the professor said:

If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up,
leaving behind the plain and cheap ones.
While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves,
that is the source of your problems and stress.

Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee.
In most cases it is just more expensive
and in some cases even hides what we drink.




What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup,
but you consciously went for the best cups
~ then you began eying each other's cups.




Now consider this:
Life is the coffee; the jobs,
money and position in society are the cups.
They are just tools to hold and contain Life,
and the type of cup we have does not define,
nor change the quality of Life we live.

Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup,
we fail to enjoy the coffee provided us.




Enjoy your coffee!

Sometimes the happiest people don't have the best of everything.
They just make the best of everything they have.




Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply

THE EMPTY MIRROR ~ A MODERN PARABLE

An itinerant dervish, wandering the ancient desert,
came upon an isolated monastery in the dunes.
Tired, thirsty, and hungry, he knocked on the huge oaken door,
hoping for food and shelter from the cold desert night.

He was shown into a large dining hall,
where he was given some bread and soup.
Hearing that they had a visitor,
the clerics and novices of the monastery
gathered around his table to watch him eat.

When he had finished, the head cleric said,
“Come, brother dervish, and gaze into our reflecting pond.
It was blessed by the prophet himself and has magical properties!”

He followed the clerics out into a large courtyard
enclosed by columned arcades full of deep blue shadows.
At its center was a rectangular pool.
Fragrant water lilies graced its surface,
while small golden fish drifted placidly below.

“Behold the sinful world of the infidel!” cried the head cleric.

At once a bacchanal appeared
in the inverted reflections of the still water:
drunken men engorged on rich sweetmeats cavorted with women
with painted faces on a lush riverbank,
while a pampered lapdog feasted on the rotting spoils.

But as the dervish looked at this scene more closely,
he began to notice dissatisfaction in the faces of the revelers.
As they fell into stupor, they gazed longingly into the river and
saw exotic visions of the East in its inverted reflections:
a man conversing with the gods in a bleak mountain hermitage,
an ascetic levitating above hot desert sands,
a sadhu renouncing all worldly possessions,
an emaciated guru relating this very tale to a group of lowly disciples.

But the vision did not end there.
The dervish saw the emaciated guru staring into his cup of chai
and imagining himself telling this same parable
to attractive groups of naive young Western women
in gilded Californian ashrams surrounded by
parking lots full of posh motorcars.

In turn, the callow young Westerners,
enraptured by the esoteric wisdom of the mystics,
looked deep into the meditation pond of the ashram
and saw in its waters an itinerant dervish
gazing at the small golden fish that drifted placidly
below the fragrant water lilies
in the reflecting pool of a lonely desert monastery.

“Why, I see nothing but small golden fish
swimming amid the water lilies,”
replied the dervish, resolving to leave the monastery at once.