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A words trier, a stormy sea sailor, a jazz lover, a painting admirer, a poetry parser, a gig addict, a scent seeker, a harmony balancer. Or perhaps, a philanthropy practitioner, a knowledge seeker, a common grounds searcher, a truth resolver. Otherwise, tiny and frail creature who lives in deeds, not years. In thoughts, not breaths. In feelings, not in figures on a dial. And who also counts time by heartthrobs. Because most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.

Thursday, September 28, 2006


Once upon a time there was a mighty river who was born in a very far away mountain. She flowed across many countries, landscapes, and all manner of obstacles. One day she came to a vast desert and soon discovered that she could not proceed across it. As powerful as she was, it was not far before she sunk into the ground. This was something she had never experienced before. A river only knows one direction — forward. But the more she flowed forward, the more she sank into the ground; yet she felt that it was not her destiny just to become a little puddle. In the midst of this predicament, from the depth of the desert she heard a voice say, “Let the gentle wind carry you,” and although she heard this, she did not understand. Of course she knew of the many winds which could blow with great force over the land. But how could a gentle wind help her now? In contemplating this inconceivable idea she again heard the voice, “Let yourself be absorbed in the wind.” She was perplexed. “What does that mean,” she pondered. “I am a mighty river. If I am absorbed by the wind, will I cease to be?” Then the voice said something further. “Do not be afraid, it is the duty of the wind to carry you. Indeed, it might seem to you a new experience, but it has happened many times before. It is your destiny.” As the river listened, something within her stirred. Gone was her fearful resistance, and she willingly went up into the loving embrace of the wind. Lightly and effortlessly she was carried across the desert to the top of a tall mountain. There she became heavy until softly falling in cool droplets gathering and flowing until she again became a mighty river. As she joyfully, freely ran down the mountain, she heard again the voice that had spoken in the desert: “As you see, there is nothing to be afraid of. Your form may change, but your essence is continuous.” Since that time, it has been said that the secret path of the river of life is inscribed in the sands of the desert.

*An old Sufi story


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sreken rodenden!!!!

Od Ema i Tina

Thu Apr 12, 03:28:00 PM 2007  

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