*image by Ben Harubin

 

One man's personal religion and philosophy-of-life he privately titled
"Unhurried."

A boy asked his father, "How are we to overcome the mind when there is
nothing to the mind but the mind?" "What am I to employ in this task?"
And the elder replied, "A man with any faith in words is like one who
confidently folds up his legally printed map, puts it safely in his deepest
pocket, then continues along his lost path."

After a silent, separated interval, the lad returned and made point,
"But did you not once tell me that any man with any map is already a fool?"
And his father said, "Why do these reported conversations between us two
have you, the younger, asking the questions, and me, the elder, responding to them?"

And again a silence arose between them before the father added, "Just
because the way things are seems to your mind as not only proper but also
as the only arrangement whereby things make sense, it is not the conclusive
proof assumed, in that the mind can play only games of its own invention,
with goals and restrictions of its own design."

"To the mind, two and two always equals four, but it does so because the mind
always equals the mind."

At one mystical monastery, at the end of each day, one of the elders would
call together all of the monks and to them say, "Okay, to recapitulate what
we've learned today -- WOULD BE AN INSULT TO US ALL!"

(Or perhaps, as their more afterlife-interested brethren might put it,
"There'll be no refresher courses in heaven.")

While leisurely stretching and good-naturedly yawning, a dog said to a tree,
"What an absolutely wonderful day to -- be alive."
"As opposed to what? -- as opposed to what?" puzzled the tree.

At the beginning of each day, at one mystical retreat, the head would so
address all of the monks, "I guess you wonder why I've called you here."
And, "No," they would all reply.