Every day, as we seek happiness, the world seduces us with a ceaseless barrage of things and people we can possess. It gives us plenty of compelling reasons why we should have them. It could be a new car, a new loud suit or even a new wife.

But if our happiness depends on our possessions, then we are destined to spend our lives chasing after an illusion.

A thirsty poet was walking in the woods one night when he came upon a well with a bucket and an attached rope. He looked into the well and the vision that met his eyes made his heart stop momentarily. Although a man accustomed to waxing lyrical about almost anything, he found no words to describe the beauty of the tranquil, perfectly round object, shimmering with ivory light at the bottom of the well.

Determined that such a dazzling thing should be his, he lowered the bucket into the well and tried to “catch” the object. The instant the bucket touched the water, the thing of beauty began to waver and distort. The poet brought up several buckets full of water, but the object remained at the bottom of the well. After the ripples had settled, it seemed to mock him with its serenity and inertia.

Undeterred, the poet labored the entire night until finally, he had emptied the well. He looked down and was shocked to see that the vision of beauty was no longer there! Worn out and distraught, he fell on his back, bemoaning his “loss”. At that moment, he saw the fading moon in the sky, making way for the morning sun, and finally understood his folly.

Like the poet in the story, many of us spend our lives attempting to possess the objects of our desires. We try vainly to “scoop up the moon”, not realizing that it’s merely a reflection we see. We assume falsely that what we want is right there in the water. We think that we can bring it up to us, and when we do, we will be happy.

Eventually, we look around and realize that we had wasted our time and energy on artificial and inconstant things. We had squandered the water that would have relieved our thirst. We look up and realize that the actual moon was in the sky all along. Its beauty was something that anyone could savor without effort or price, but that no one could own or control, no matter how hard one tried.

Trying to find happiness in possessing people or things will ultimately bring us heartache, frustration and regret. It is in realizing that although we cannot possess the moon, we can still behold its beauty, that we find lasting fulfillment and mental tranquility.

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To the man who pleases him, God gives wisdom, knowledge and happiness, but to the sinner he gives the task of gathering and storing up wealth to hand it over to the one who pleases God. This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.

Ecclesiastes 2:26

Submitted by: Jamie

Music by: Unknown Composer

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window.

The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his room-mate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn’t hear the band – he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Then unexpectedly, a sinister thought entered his mind. Why should the other man alone experience all the pleasures of seeing everything while he himself never got to see anything? It didn’t seem fair.

At first thought the man felt ashamed. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to brood and he found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window – that thought, and only that thought now controlled his life.

Late one night as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running in. In less than five minutes the coughing and choking stopped, along with that the sound of breathing. Now there was only silence-deathly silence.

The following morning the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take it away. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable,


she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She said, “Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.”

Epilogue. . . .

You can interpret the story in any way you like. But one moral stands out: There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all of the things you have that money can’t buy.

Submitted by: Jamie

Music by: Unknown Composer

“The heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight;
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.”

The significant inscription found on an old key,–”If I rest, I rust,”–would be an excellent motto for those who are afflicted with the slightest taint of idleness. Even the industrious might adopt it with advantage to serve as a reminder that, if one allows his faculties to rest, like the iron in the unused key, they will soon show signs of rust, and, ultimately, cannot do the work required of them.

Those who would attain

“The heights by great men reached and kept”
must keep their faculties burnished by constant use, so that they will unlock the doors of knowledge, the gates that guard the entrances to the professions, to science, art, literature, agriculture,–every department of human endeavor.

Industry keeps bright the key that opens the treasury of achievement. If Hugh Miller, after toiling all day in a quarry, had devoted his evenings to rest and recreation, he would never have become a famous geologist. The celebrated mathematician, Edmund Stone, would never have published a mathematical dictionary, never have found the key to the science of mathematics, if he had given his spare moments, snatched from the duties of a gardener, to idleness. Had the little Scotch lad, Ferguson, allowed the busy brain to go to sleep while he tended sheep on the hillside, instead of calculating the position of the stars by the help of a string of beads, he would never have become a famous astronomer.

“Labor vanquishes all,”–not in constant, spasmodic, or ill-directed labor, but faithful, unremitting, daily effort toward a well-directed purpose. Just as truly as eternal vigilance is the price of liberty, so is eternal industry the price of noble and enduring success.
“Seize, then, the minutes as they pass;
The woof of life is thought!
Warm up the colors; let them glow
With fire of fancy fraught.”

Written by: Orison Swett Marden

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The Miracle of Right Thought

Quotes and Sayings about Worry:

Music: ‘solitude’ © Margi Harrell

“I’m awfully worried this morning, said one woman. What is it?” “Why, I thought of something to worry about last night, and now I can’t remember it.” A famous actress once said: “Worry is the foe of all beauty.” She might have added: “It is the foe to all health.”

“It seems so heartless in me, if I do not worry about my children,” said one mother. Women nurse their troubles, as they do their babies. “Troubles grow larger,” said Lady Holland, “by nursing.” “He grieves,” says Seneca, “more than is necessary, who grieves before it is necessary.” “My children,” said a dying man, “during my long life I have had a great many troubles, most of which never happened.” A prominent businessman in Philadelphia said that his father worried for twenty-five years over an anticipated misfortune, which never arrived.

We try to grasp too much of life at once; since we think of it as a whole, instead of living one day at a time. Life is a mosaic, and each tiny piece must be cut and set with skill, first one piece, then another. It is not the troubles of today, but those of tomorrow and next week and next year, that whiten our heads, wrinkle our faces, and bring us to a standstill. Nervous prostration is seldom the result of present trouble or work, but of work and trouble anticipated. Mental exhaustion comes to those who look ahead, and climb mountains before reaching them. Resolutely build a wall about today, and live within the enclosure. The past may have been hard, sad, or wrong, – but it is over.

Why not take a turn about? Instead of worrying over unforeseen misfortune, set out with all your soul to rejoice in the unforeseen blessings of all your coming days. “I find the gayest castles in the air that were ever piled,” says Emerson, “far better for comfort and for use than the dungeons in the air that are daily dug and cavern out by grumbling, discontented people.”

What is this world but as you take it? Thackeray calls the world a looking glass that gives back the reflection of one’s own face. “Frown at it, and it will look sourly upon you; laugh at it, and it is a jolly companion.”

Written by: Orison Swett Marden

Did you enjoy the inspirational post above? If so you can find more by the author at Amazon.com:

The Miracle of Right Thought

Quotes and Sayings about Worry:

“Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy.” – Leo Buscaglia

“Do not anticipate trouble or worry about what may never happen. Keep in the sunlight.” – Benjamin Franklin

“If you want to test your memory, try to recall what you were worrying about one year ago today.” – Joseph Cossman

“We experience moments absolutely free from worry. These brief respites are called panic.” – Cullen Hightower

“It only seems as if you are doing something when you’re worrying.” – Lucy Maud Montgomery

“Worry often gives a small thing a big shadow.” – Swedish Proverb

Music: ‘solitude’ © Margi Harrell

David Morse — American missionary to India — became great friends there with the pearl-diver, Rambhau. Many an evening he spent in Rambhau’s cabin reading to him from the Bible, and explaining to him God’s way of salvation.

Rambhau enjoyed listening to the Word of God, but whenever the missionary tried to get Rambhau to accept Christ as his Savior — he would shake his head and reply, “Your Christian way to heaven is too easy for me! I cannot accept it. If ever I should find admittance to heaven in that manner — I would feel like a pauper there…like a beggar who has been let in out of pity. I may be proud — but I want to deserve, I want to earn my place in heaven — and so I am going to work for it.”

Nothing the missionary could say seemed to have any effect on Rambhau’s decision, and so quite a few years slipped by. One evening, however, the missionary heard a knock on his door, and on going to open it he found Rambhau there.

“Come in, dear friend,” said Morse.

“No,” said the pearl-diver. “I want you to come with me to my house, Sahib, for a short time — I have something to show you. Please do not say ‘No’.”

“Of course I’ll come,” replied the missionary. As they neared his house, Rambhau said: “In a week’s time I start working for my place in heaven; I am leaving for Delhi — and I am going there on my knees.”

“Man, you are crazy! It’s nine hundred miles to Delhi, and the skin will break on your knees, and you will have blood-poisoning or leprosy before you get to Bombay.”

“No, I must get to Delhi,” affirmed Rambhau, “and the immortals will reward me for it! The suffering will be sweet — for it will purchase heaven for me!”

“Rambhau, my friend — you can’t. How can I bear you to do it — when Jesus Christ has suffered and died to purchase heaven for you!”

But the old man could not be moved. “You are my dearest friend on earth, Sahib Morse. Through all these years you have stood by me in sickness, in want — you have been sometimes my only friend. But even you cannot turn me from my desire to purchase eternal bliss…I must go to Delhi!”

Inside the hut Morse was seated in the very chair Rambhau had specially built for him — where on so many occasions he had read to him the Bible.

Rambhau left the room to return soon with a small but heavy English strongbox. “I have had this box for years,” said he, “and I keep only one thing in it. Now I will tell you about it, Sahib Morse. I once had a son…”

“A son! Why, Rambhau, you have never before said a word about him!”

“No, Sahib, I couldn’t.” Even as he spoke the diver’s eyes were moistened.

“Now I must tell you, for soon I will leave, and who knows whether I shall ever return? My son was a diver too. He was the best pearl diver on the coasts of India. He had the swiftest dive, the keenest eye, the strongest arm, the longest breath of any man who ever sought for pearls.

What joy he brought to me! Most pearls, as you know, have some defect or blemish only the expert can discern, but my boy always dreamed of finding the ‘perfect’ pearl — one beyond all that was ever found. One day he found it! But even when he saw it — he had been under water too long… That pearl cost him his life, for he died soon after.”

The old pearl diver bowed his head. For a moment his whole body shook, but there was no sound. “All these years,” he continued, “I have kept this pearl — but now I am going, not to return, and to you, my best friend — I am giving my pearl.”

The old man worked the combination on the strongbox and drew from it a carefully wrapped package. Gently opening the cotton, he picked up a mammoth pearl and placed it in the hand of the missionary.

It was one of the largest pearls ever found off the coast of India, and glowed with a luster and brilliance never seen in cultured pearls. It would have brought a fabulous sum in any market.

For a moment the missionary was speechless and gazed with awe. “Rambhau! What a pearl!”

“That pearl, Sahib, is perfect,” replied the Indian quietly. The missionary looked up quickly with a new thought: Was not this the very opportunity and occasion he had prayed for — to make Rambhau understand the value of Christ’s sacrifice? So he said, designedly, “Rambhau, this is a wonderful pearl, an amazing pearl. Let me buy it. I would give you ten thousand dollars for it.”

“Sahib! What do you mean?”

“Well, I will give you fifteen thousand dollars for it, or if it takes more — I will work for it.”

“Sahib,” said Rambhau, stiffening his whole body, “this pearl is beyond price. No man in all the world has money enough to pay what this pearl is worth to me. On the market a million dollars could not buy it. I will not sell it to you. You may only have it as a gift.”

“No, Rambhau, I cannot accept that. As much as I want the pearl, I cannot accept it that way. Perhaps I am proud, but that is too easy. I must pay for it, or work for it…”

The old pearl-diver was stunned. “You don’t understand at all, Sahib. Don’t you see. My only son gave his life to get this pearl, and I wouldn’t sell it for any money. Its worth is in the life-blood of my son. I cannot sell this — but I can give it to you. Just accept it in token of the love I bear you.”

The missionary was choked, and for a moment could not speak. Then he gripped the hand of the old man. “Rambhau,” he said in a low voice, “don’t you see? My words are just what you have been saying to God all the time.”

The diver looked long and searchingly at the missionary, and slowly, slowly he began to understand. “God is offering you salvation as a free gift,” said the missionary. “It is so great and priceless that no man on earth can buy it. Millions of dollars are too little. No man on earth could earn it. His life would be millions of years too short. No man is good enough to deserve it. It cost God the life-blood of His only Son to make the entrance for you into heaven. In a million years, in a hundred pilgrimages, you could not earn that entrance. All you can do is to accept it as a token of God’s love for you — a sinner.

“Rambhau, of course I will accept the pearl in deep humility, praying God that I may be worthy of your love. Rambhau, won’t you accept God’s great gift of heaven, too, in deep humility, knowing it cost Him the death of His Son to offer it to you?”

Great tears were now rolling down the cheeks of the old man. The veil was beginning to lift. “Sahib, I see it now. I have believed in the doctrine of Jesus for the last two years, but I could not believe that His salvation was free. Now I understand. Some things are too priceless to be bought or earned. Sahib, I will accept His salvation!”

Submitted by: Josh

Music: ‘solitude’ © Margi Harrell

There was once a bridge which spanned a large river. During most of the day the bridge sat with its length running up and down the river paralleled with the banks, allowing ships to pass thru freely on both sides of the bridge.

But at certain times each day, a train would come along and the bridge would be turned sideways across the river, allowing a train to cross it.

A switchman sat in a small shack on one side of the river where he operated the controls to turn the bridge and lock it into place as the train crossed.

One evening as the switchman was waiting for the last train of the day to come, he looked off into the distance thru the dimming twilight and caught sight of the trainlights. He stepped to the control and waited until the train was within a prescribed distance when he was to turn the bridge.

He turned the bridge into position, but, to his horror, he found the locking control did not work. If the bridge was not securely in position it would wobble back and forth at the ends when the train came onto it, causing the train to jump the track and go crashing into the river. This would be a passenger train with many people aboard.

He left the bridge turned across the river, and hurried across the bridge to the other side of the river where there was a lever switch he could hold to operate the lock manually. He would have to hold the lever back firmly as the train crossed.

He could hear the rumble of the train now, and he took hold of the lever and leaned backward to apply his weight to it, locking the bridge. He kept applying the pressure to keep the mechanism locked. Many lives depended on this man’s strength.

Then, coming across the bridge from the direction of his control shack, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold.

“Daddy, where are you?”

His four-year-old son was crossing the bridge to look for him. His first impulse was to cry out to the child, “Run! Run!” But the train was too close; the tiny legs would never make it across the bridge in time.

The man almost left his lever to run and snatch up his son and carry him to safety. But he realized that he could not get back to the lever. Either the people on the train or his little son must die.

He took a moment to make his decision. The train sped safely and swiftly on its way, and no one aboard was even aware of the tiny broken body thrown mercilessly into the river by the onrushing train. Nor were they aware of the pitiful figure of the sobbing man, still clinging tightly to the locking lever long after the train had passed.

They did not see him walking home more slowly than he had ever walked: to tell his wife how their son had brutally died.

Now if you comprehend the emotions which went this man’s heart, you can begin to understand the feelings of our Father in Heaven when He sacrificed His Son to bridge the gap between us and eternal life.

Can there be any wonder that He caused the earth to tremble and the skies to darken when His Son died? How does He feel when we speed along thru life without giving a thought to what was done for us thru Jesus Christ?

When was the last time you thanked Him for the sacrifice of His Son?

When was the last time you told someone about the sacrifice?

Submitted by: Jonhny

Music: ‘solitude’ © Margi Harrell

The 26-year-old mother stared down at her son who was dying of terminal leukemia. Although her heart was filled with sadness, she also had a strong feeling of determination. Like any parent she wanted her son to grow up and fulfill all his dreams. Now that was no longer possible. The leukemia would see to that. But she still wanted her son’s dreams to come true.

She took her son’s hand and asked, “Billy, did you ever think about what you wanted to be once you grew up? Did you ever dream and wish what you would do with your life?”

“Mommy, I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up.”

Mom smiled back and said, “Let’s see if we can make your wish come true.”

Later that day she went to her local fire department in Phoenix, Arizona, where she met Fireman Bob, who had a heart as big as Phoenix. She explained her son’s final wish and asked if it might be possible to give her son a ride around the block on a fire engine.

Fireman Bob said, “Look, we can do better than that. If you’ll have your son ready at seven o’clock Wednesday morning, we’ll make him an honorary fireman for the whole day. He can come down to the fire station, eat with us, go out on all the fire calls, the whole nine yards! And if you’ll give us his sizes, we’ll get a real fire uniform for him, with a real fire hat–not a toy one–with the emblem of the Phoenix Fire Department on it, a yellow slicker like we wear and rubber boots. They’re all manufactured right here in Phoenix, so we can get them fast.”

Three days later Fireman Bob picked up Billy, dressed him in his fire uniform and escorted him from his hospital bed to the waiting hook and ladder truck.

Billy got to sit on the back of the truck and help steer it back to the fire station. He was in heaven. There were three fire calls in Phoenix that day and Billy got to go out on all three calls. He rode in the different fire engines, the paramedic’s van and even the fire chief’s car. He was also video taped for the local news program.

Having his dream come true, with all the love and attention that was lavished upon him, so deeply touched Billy that he lived three months longer than any doctor thought possible.

One night all of his vital signs began to drop dramatically and the head nurse, who believed in the hospice concept that no one should die alone, began to call the family members to the hospital. Then she remembered the day Billy had spent as a fireman, so she called the fire chief and asked if it would be possible to send a fireman in uniform to the hospital to be with Billy as he made his transition.

The chief replied, “We can do better than that. We’ll be there in five minutes. Will you please do me a favor? When you hear the sirens screaming and see the lights flashing, will you announce over the PA system that there is not a fire? It’s just the fire department coming to see one of it’s finest members one more time. And will you open the window to his room? Thanks.”

About five minutes later a hook and ladder truck arrived at the hospital, extended its ladder up to Billy’s third floor open window and 16 firefighters climbed up the ladder into Billy’s room. With his mother’s permission, they hugged him and held him and told him how much they loved him.

With his dying breath, Billy looked up at the fire chief and said, “Chief, am I really a fireman now?”

“Billy, you are,” the chief said.

With those words, Billy smiled and closed his eyes one last time.

Submitted by: Jonhny

Music: ‘Dream’ © Margi Harrell

One day, I woke early in the morning to watch the sunrise. Ah the beauty of God’s creation is beyond description. As I watched, I praised God for His beautiful work.

As I sat there, I felt the Lord’s presence with me.. He asked me, “Do you love me?” I answered, “Of course, God! You are my Lord and Savior!” Then He asked, “If you were physically handicapped, would you still love me?”

I was perplexed. I look down upon my arm, legs and the rest of my body and wondered how many things I wouldn’t be able to do, the things that I took for granted.

And I answered, “It would be tough Lord, but I would still love You.”

Then the Lord said, “If you were blind, would you still love my creation?” How could I love something without being able to see it? Then I thought of all the blind people in the world and how many of them still loved God and His creation. So I answered, “It’s hard to think of it, but I would still love you.”

The Lord then asked me, “If you were deaf, would you still listen to my word?” How could I listen to anything being deaf? Then I understood. Listening to God’s Word is not merely using our ears, but our hearts.

I answered, “It would be tough, but I would still listen to Your word.”

The Lord then asked, “If you were mute, would you still praise My Name?” How could I praise without a voice? Then it occurred to me: God wants us to sing from our very heart and soul. It never matters what we sound like.

And praising God is not always with a song, but when we are persecuted, we give God praise with our words of thanks.

So I answered, “Though I could not physically sing, I would still praise Your Name.”

And the Lord asked, “Do you really love Me?”
With courage and a strong conviction, I answered boldly. “Yes Lord! I love You because You are the one and true God!”

I thought I had answered well, but God asked, “THEN WHY DO YOU SIN?”

I answered, “Because I am only human. I am not perfect.” “THEN WHY IN TIMES OF PEACE DO YOU STRAY THE FURTHEST? WHY ONLY IN TIMES OF TROUBLE DO YOU PRAY THE EARNEST?”

No answers. Only tears.

The Lord continued: “Why only sing at fellowships and retreats? Why seek Me only in times of worship? Why ask things so selfishly? Why ask things so unfaithfully?”

The tears continued to roll down my cheeks.

“Why are you ashamed of Me? Why are you not spreading the good news? Why in times of persecution, you cry to others when I offer My shoulder to cry on?
Why make excuses when I give you opportunities to serve in My Name?”

I tried to answer, but there was no answer to give.

“You are blessed with life. I made you not to throw this gift away. I have blessed you with talents to serve Me, but you continue to turn away. I have revealed My Word to you, but you do not gain in knowledge.

I have spoken to you but your ears were closed. I have shown My blessings to you, but your eyes were turned away. I have sent you servants, but you sat idly by as they were pushed away. I have heard your prayers and I have answered them all.”

“DO YOU TRULY LOVE ME?”

I could not answer. How could I? I was embarrassed beyond belief. I had no excuse. What could I say to this?

When my heart had cried out and the tears had flowed. I said, Please forgive me Lord. I am unworthy to be Your child.”

The Lord answered, “That is My Grace, My child.” I asked, “Then why do you continue to forgive me? Why do You love me so?”

The Lord answered, “Because you are My creation. You are My child. I will never abandon you. When you cry, I will have compassion and cry with you.When you shout with joy, I will laugh with you. When you are down, I will encourage you. When you fall, I will raise you up. When you are tired, I will carry you. I will be with you till the end of days, and I will love you forever.”

Never had I cried so hard before. How could I have been so cold? How could I have hurt God as I had done? I asked God, “How much do You love me?”

The Lord stretched out His arms, and I saw His nail-pierced hands. I bowed down at the feet of Christ, my Savior. And for the first time, I truly prayed.

Submitted by: Evita


Music: ‘Dreams’ © Margi Harrell

Dante Gabriel Rossetti, the famous 19th-century poet and artist, was once approached by an elderly man. The old fellow had some sketches and drawings that he wanted Rossetti to look at and tell him if they were any good, or if they at least showed potential talent.

Rossetti looked them over carefully. After the first few, he knew that they were worthless, showing not the least sign of artistic talent. But Rossetti was a kind man, and he told the elderly man as gently as possible that the pictures were without much value and showed little talent. He was sorry, but he could not lie to the man.

The visitor was disappointed, but seemed to expect Rossetti’s judgment. He then apologized for taking up Rossetti?s time, but would he just look at a few more drawings – these done by a young art student?

Rossetti looked over the second batch of sketches and immediately became enthusiastic over the talent they revealed. “These,” he said, “oh, these are good. This young student has great talent. He should be given every help and encouragement in his career as an artist. He has a great future if he will work hard and stick to it.”

Rossetti could see that the old fellow was deeply moved. “Who is this fine young artist?” he asked. “Your son?”

“No,” said the old man sadly. “It is me – 40 years ago. If only I had heard your praise then! For you see, I got discouraged and gave up – too soon.”

Submitted by: Evita


Music: ‘Dreams’ © Margi Harrell

Many of us, when we look at ourselves, tend to feel lonely and bored. Why? It is because we have not seen the deeper layers of
our self.

We look at ourselves only in the realm of the mind, or at the level of the body and never look at the deeper layers. If you don’t look at the deeper layers of yourself, you find yourself empty and shallow and experience a sense of loneliness. When you experience a sense of loneliness, you find that your life is utterly boring.

However, if you are meditative with reference to your self, you will see that your body, mind and intellect are the periphery of your personality. In the deeper layers of yourself, there is the pure Saakshi Chaitanya.

When you understand the deeper layers of yourself, you will become content and blissful. In that state you experience not loneliness, but aloneness. And the moment you start experiencing aloneness you will find that the quality of your life becomes very different. Therefore, with reference to your own self, learn to be more meditative. What does it mean, to be meditative?

If you are not meditative, you will find your life to be in bondage, in shackles; the more you are meditative with reference to your self, the more will be the freedom of your life, the more liberated your life will be. Therefore, being non-meditative to one’s self leads to bandhana or bondage, whereas meditativeness with reference to one’s self leads to a state of nirvana or kaivalya or moksha . Therefore, it is a great responsibility on us, whether we are in grihasthashram or sanyasashram , to learn to be more meditative with reference to our self.

A king was looking for a suitable candidate for the post of prime minister. After several tests, three people were short-listed. The next day was the final test. There was a rumor that the king had a magic lock, created by a clever craftsman, which can be opened only with great skill and knowledge. And whoever unlocked it, would be the prime minister.

Hearing the rumor, two of the selected candidates acquired a lot of books on locks. They spent the whole night going through the mathematical equations relating to locks. The third person was very relaxed. The other two commented to each other that this fellow was a fool. Instead of making the best use of the time he is relaxing! The next morning, all three were taken to the palace. And the rumor turned out to be true. The king said whoever unlocks the lock created by a master craftsman will be prime minister.

These two people felt very happy thinking that it was good that they had referred to many books and then they went and looked at the lock. Once again they returned to the books and started referring to them to find out a solution to the problem, whereas the third person, looking relaxed, went there and looked at the lock and pulled it, and to his surprise, it opened. In fact, it was not locked at all. The other two were still busy referring to the books.

In the meantime, the king announced that the third person had been selected as prime minister. The other two asked him, “You never referred to any book on locks, how did you unlock it?” And the king said, “The very first thing that a prime minister should do is that he should know whether the problem really exists or not, before trying to solve it.”

If you do not know whether the problem exists or not and if you try to solve it, the whole effort becomes futile. Here the problem was that the lock was not fastened. And these two persons assumed it was locked and with that assumption they tried to solve the problem. Therefore, they found that they had wasted their time.

We feel we are in bondage. We have to really start looking within. We’ll find that our fears are imaginary; we imagine that we are bound.

Submitted by: Jonhny

Music: ‘Dream’ © Margi Harrell