Mindfulness Mondays 56: The Swordsman & The Tea Master
June 21, 2010 by dr. lam · 4 Comments
The master of the tea ceremony accidentally slighted a soldier. Realizing his mistake, the tea master quickly offered his deepest apologies. The soldier refused to accept it and compelled the tea master into a duel to settle the score. The tea master not knowing how to wield a sword in combat asked a zen master who was gifted with the sword to teach him how to use a sword properly. The zen master said, “You do not need a sword. Just stare at him with deep tranquility and concentration, as you do when you perform your tea ceremony.” The next day, the tea master encountered the swordsmen who shuttered when he looked at the deep tranquility and peace in the tea master’s gaze. The swordsmen apologized and walked away.
Many times we think we need to intimidate someone who is intimidating us. Instead, we can save both of us when we not engage in the fight but remain at a higher plane of peace and tranquility. That level of peace can radiate and change ourselves and all of those around us. Lower your swords.
My Last Blog…
June 15, 2010 by dr. lam · 6 Comments
I would like to thank all of my faithful readers who have read maybe not all of my blogs but many of the blogs that I have written over the past few years. This one is my 621st published blog. I do not think this is going to be my last blog, but I plan on taking a little break from writing. The pressure to maintain this blog series has taken a toll on me, especially over the past 2 to 3 months when I have been furiously working to finish a textbook with which I should be completely done in a short while.
I will maintain my Mindfulness Mondays for a while longer, as they have been perhaps the most well received of my writings. These blogs have been an incredible joy for me to write and to share, especially getting feedback on them from my loyal readers. It was interesting that two weekends ago when I was struggling on the idea of stopping my blogs that I ran into a woman at a party who had recently been commenting on my blogs and who let me know how much they meant to her. Then the following day, I received an email from a woman who had been raped and had a child unbeknownst to her for 7 months (she had an irregular cycle, obvious question) and gave the child up for adoption. Here is a link to her story. It moved me to tears, and I appreciate very much her appreciating my blogs. Perhaps I was being told from above that I should continue…
As any consolation, I am not saying that I am stopping all together. I just need a break. Perhaps all of you do as well. At least there is a massive catalog of over 600 blogs on love, leadership, personal and professional development, spirituality, peace, happiness, health, food, and I actually think I have one or two on plastic surgery. (LOL.) — all of which I will leave on line for your perusal and use. I hope you continue to enjoy the Mindfulness Mondays I have left and which I may continue forward with. For now, I think a small hiatus is well deserved and may be good for all. Hope you are having a fun, healthy, rewarding, and meaningful summer. (I also hope for those of you subscribed to my blogs that you maintain your subscription to my blog so that you know when new ones come out.)
Peace and Love,
Sam Lam
Mindfulness Mondays 55: The Successor
June 14, 2010 by dr. lam · Leave a Comment
An old zen master was at the end of his life and ready to give up his robes and pass that duty onto one of the monks from the monastery. In order to decide which monk would be a worthy successor, he decided to hold a contest of who could write the most magnificent piece of poetry. One learned monk wrote the most beautiful poem that the old zen master had ever read, and the master was ready to give over to this monk the distinction of being his successor. But then that night, he had a poem shuffled under his door that startled the zen master in its insight, originality, beauty, and majesty but there was no name appended to it. Undertaking an investigation, he found that the person who wrote it was a quiet kitchen rice pounder. All the other monks plotted to kill this rice pounder; but the rice pounder was able to don the robes, escape the monastery, and eventually became renowned as an influential zen master.
This story talks about how we tend to have preconceived notions of who people are based on title and rank. However, when we open our eyes to humanity as humanity we can see the true talent, beauty, and profundity of each person no matter what we originally thought of that person only if we remain open enough to see it.
Mindfulness Mondays 54: The Inn
June 7, 2010 by dr. lam · Leave a Comment
A traveller came upon the King’s palace and walked right past the guards to the throne without difficulty. The king a bit startled asked what the man wanted. The man asked, “Do you have place in this inn?” The king replies, “This is not an inn. It is my palace.” The man then inquires further, “May I ask who owned this palace before you?” The king explains, “My father. But he is now dead.” ”And who owned it before your father?” the man then asks. ”Well, my grandfather, but he is dead too,” the king exclaims. The man then concludes, “And you do not think this is an inn?”
We too often believe that we are a product of what we own and what we own is something special: our car, our house, our office, our clothes. However, we are mere passengers in this journey called life. The sooner that we recognize the transience of what we have in front of us and the futility of holding on to everything we have as “an owner”, the more joy we can express and feel. We can become more at peace when we recognize that perhaps our own home is merely an inn and not a home.
Mindfulness Mondays 53: Just Two Words
May 31, 2010 by dr. lam · 2 Comments
There was once a Franciscan monastery that was very strict. All the monks would swear to a vow of silence except every ten years they were allowed to speak just two words. After the first ten years, one monk turned to the head monk and stated, “Bed…hard.” ”I see,” replied the head monk. Another ten years passed, and the same monk was given the chance to speak two words. This time, he said, “Food…stinks.” ”I see,” replied the head monk. Another ten years passed, and the same monk was given the chance to speak two words. The monk this time says, “I…quit.” The head monk retorts, “Well, I can see why. All you ever do is complain.”
The lesson of this story is obviously couched in a funny tale. Several things are apparent. First that a spiritual individual like the monk is spending decades focused on the physical limitations of his life. The second is that it took him 30 years to realize that before quitting. How often are we complaining or moaning about our situation? How does that complaining prevent us from becoming enlightened? How long are we going to continue with this silly ranting that colors our entire world view?
Happy Memorial Day!