"The Monk With Sweaty Palms" from A NEW EARTH by Eckhart Tolle
Kasan, a Zen teacher and monk, was to officiate at a funeral of a famous nobleman.
As he stood there waiting for the governor of the province and other lords and ladies to arrive, he noticed that the palms of his hands were sweaty.
The next day he called his disciples together and confessed he was not yet ready to be a true teacher.
Wisdom Story: “A Boy, A Rabbi and a Stone'“ — Unknown
"Once upon a time, a small Jewish boy went to his rabbi and said he didn't know how to love God. 'How can I love God when I've never seen him?' asked the boy. 'I think I understand how to love my mother, my father, my brother, my little sister, and even the people in our neighborhood, but I don't know how I'm supposed to love God.'
"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?" by Anthony de Mello
The master imprints his wisdom in the heart of his disciples, not in the pages of a book. The disciple might carry this wisdom for thirty or forty years, hidden in his heart, until he meets someone ready to receive it. Such was the tradition of Zen.
“Aikido Surprise” by Terry Dobson
A major turning point in my life came as an unexpected surprise one day in the middle of a quiet spring afternoon on a sleepy train in the suburbs of Tokyo.
It all started as the old train car was clanking and rattling over the rails. It was comparatively empty – a few housewives with their kids in tow, some old folks out shopping, a couple off-duty bartenders casually glancing through the sports section of the local newspaper. I was gazing absently at the drab houses and dusty hedgerows.
Then as the doors opened at one unremarkable station, the calm afternoon was suddenly shattered. A man on the platform bellowed at the top of his lungs, yelling violent, obscene, incomprehensible curses. Just before the doors closed, the still yelling man staggered into our car.
“Richard Seltzer tells this story of love”
Yale University surgeon named Richard Seltzer. Richard Seltzer tells this story of love.
“I stand by the bed where a young woman lies, her face post operative, her mouth twisted and palsy clownish. A tiny twig of the facial nerve, the one to the muscles of her mouth has been severed. She will be thus from now on. The surgeon had followed, with religious fervor, the curve of her flesh. I promise you that. Nevertheless, to remove the tumor from her cheek I had to cut the little nerve
Zen Story: “Impermanence” — Author Unknown
A revered Zen teacher once approached the king’s palace late at night. The guards did not stop him as he made his way inside to where the king was seated upon his throne. The king recognized him too.