The Diamond
When the sannyasi reached the outskirts of the village and settled under a tree for the night, a villager came running up to him and said, "The stone! The stone! Give me the precious stone!"
When the sannyasi reached the outskirts of the village and settled under a tree for the night, a villager came running up to him and said, "The stone! The stone! Give me the precious stone!"
"What stone?" asked the sannyasi.
"Last night Lord Shiva told me in a dream that if I went to the outskirts of the village at dusk a sannyasi would give me a stone that would make me rich forever."
The sannyasi rummaged in his sack and, pulling out a stone, he said, "He probably meant this one. I found it in the forest yesterday. Here, it’s yours if you want it."
The man gazed at the stone in wonder. It was the largest diamond in the world — the size of a man’s head. All night he tossed about in bed. At the break of day he woke the sannyasi and said, "Give me the wealth that makes it possible for you to give this stone away."
Found myself today holding onto the stone, and although it was only worth a little less than $50, it took me the entire day before i could open my hand and relinquish it. Why? I'm actually shocked, and a little saddened. While certainly not a sanyasi, i thought i lived to higher standards than this. I, too, want the wealth, not the stone.
2 comments:
I found your site because I was thinking about Rilke's poem, Sometimes A Man Stands Up. Then, out of curiosity I looked at some of your posts and found this. Song Of The Bird is a treasured item. My uncle, who was a Columban missionary in The Philippines, and who understood the wealth referred to in this story, have it to my Dad, who in turn passed it on to me. I have never met anyone who had read it.
Let me quote some more Rilke,in gratitude;
Center of all centers, core of cores,
almond self-enclosed and growing sweet –
all this universe, to the furthest stars
and beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit.
Now you feel how nothing clings to you;
your vast shell reaches into endless space,
and there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow.
Illuminated in your infinite peace,
a billion stars go spinning through the night,
blazing high above your head.
But in you is the presence that
will be, when all the stars are dead.
I found your site because I was thinking about Rilke's poem, Sometimes A Man Stands Up. Then, out of curiosity I looked at some of your posts and found this. Song Of The Bird is a treasured item. My uncle, who was a Columban missionary in The Philippines, and who understood the wealth referred to in this story, have it to my Dad, who in turn passed it on to me. I have never met anyone who had read it.
Let me quote some more Rilke,in gratitude;
Center of all centers, core of cores,
almond self-enclosed and growing sweet –
all this universe, to the furthest stars
and beyond them, is your flesh, your fruit.
Now you feel how nothing clings to you;
your vast shell reaches into endless space,
and there the rich, thick fluids rise and flow.
Illuminated in your infinite peace,
a billion stars go spinning through the night,
blazing high above your head.
But in you is the presence that
will be, when all the stars are dead.
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