Let me tell you another story, again from the Chhandogya Upanishad. “Fetch me from a fruit of the nyagrodh tree,” asked the father, the great sage Uddalak, to his son. “Here is one, sir,” said Svetaketu. “Break it.” “It is broken, sir.” “What do you see there?” “These seeds, almost infinitesimal.” “Break one of them.”…
The essence of the raindrop was in a transitory vibration of flux as it hovered in another dimension. Again it had been called home by the enticing warmth of the Sun. It was remembering past existences as a raindrop and enjoying the feelings that he felt through each one.
Those experiences represented a millions of raindrop existences to remember over eons of time. However, those experiences…
The Zen master Hakuin was praised by his neighbours as one living a pure life.
A beautiful Japanese girl whose parents owned a food store lived near him. Suddenly, without any warning, her parents discovered she was with child.
This made her parents angry. She would not confess who the man was, but after much harassment at last named Hakuin.
In great anger the parent went to the master. “Is that so?” was all he would say.
