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 An old man was sitting in the courtyard of his house along with his son who had received a high education. Suddenly a crow perched on a wall of the house. The father asked the son: What is this? The son replied: It is a crow. After a little while the father again asked the son: What is this? The son said: It is a crow.

After a few minutes the father asked his son the third time: What is this? The son said: Father, I have just now told you that this is a crow. After a little while the old father again asked his son the fourth time: what is this? By this time some expression of irritation was felt in the son’s tone when he rebuffed his father: Father! It is a crow, a crow. A little after the father again asked his son: What is this? This time the son replied to his father with a vein of temper. Father: You are always repeating the same question, although I have told you so many times that it is a crow. Are you not able to understand this?

The father went to his room and came back with an old diary. Opening a page he asked his son to read what was written. What the son read were the following words written in the diary:

‘ Today my little son was sitting with me in the courtyard, when a crow came there. My son asked me twenty-five times what it was and I told him twenty-five times that it was a crow and I did not at all feel irritated. I rather felt affection for my innocent child. ‘

The father then explained to his son the difference between a father’s and a son’s attitude. While you were a little child you asked me this question twenty-five times and I felt no irritation in replying to the question twenty-five times and when today I asked you the same question only five times, you felt irritated, annoyed and impatient with me.

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What is it?

I happened to see this little frog,

I said, “What is this? This is cute.”

This is Zen Frog. This App can be downloaded and used as a screensaver. It states it has a setting for how often the eyes blink and a clock that can come and go by a touch.

Then as I was researching this little guy, I came across some ceramic zen frogs for the garden. (now that I might buy for my garden this year! )

Of course living on the river, we have more than enough frogs to go around. The dogs and cats stay busy chasing these little creatures around. On a still summer day you can not hear yourself think due to the toad serenade.

I come to a conclusion as to why frogs are rubber-y, going to work at 5 am, I see these guys hopping across the road in the head lights and it amazes me how high they jump and hit the ground and bounce into another leap.

There once was a curious frog
Who sat by a pond on a log
And, to see what resulted,
In the pond catapulted
With a water-noise heard round the bog.

Jang Ku-Song the hermit was busy sitting
when he heard frogs croaking. It made him
recite

The croaking of frogs on moonlit nights in early spring
pierces the world from end to end, makes us all
one family.

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There is zen in everything

zen is not about eliminating thoughts but about illuminating them

(~_~)

A cactus stood all alone in the desert, wondering why it was stuck in the middle of nowhere.

“I do nothing but stand here all day,” it sighed. “What use am I? I’m the ugliest plant in the desert. My spines are thick and prickly, my leaves are rubbery and tough, my skin is thick and bumpy. I can’t offer shade or juicy fruit to any passing traveler. I don’t see that I’m any use at all.”

All it did was stand in the sun day after day, growing taller and fatter. Its spines grew longer and its leaves tougher, and it swelled here and there until it was lumpy and lopsided all over. It truly was strange- looking.

“I wish I could do something useful,” it sighed.

By day hawks circled high overhead.

“What can I do with my life?” the cactus called. Whether they heard or not, the hawks sailed away.

At night the moon floated into the sky and cast its pale glow on the desert floor.

“What good can I do with my life?” the cactus called. The moon only stared coldly as it mounted its course.

A lizard crawled by, leaving a little trail in the sand with its tail.
“What worthy deed can I do?” the cactus called.

“You?” the lizard laughed, pausing a moment. “Worthy deed? Why, you can’t do anything! The hawks circle way overhead, tracing delicate patterns for us all to admire. The moon hangs high like a lantern at night, so we can see our ways home to our loved ones. Even I, the lowly lizard, have something to do. I decorate the sands with these beautiful brushstrokes as I pull my tail along. Buy you? You do nothing but get uglier every day.”

And so it went on, year after year. At last the cactus grew old, and it knew its time was short.

“Oh, Lord,” it cried out, “I’ve wondered so long, and I’ve tried so hard. Forgive me if I’ve failed to find something worthy to do. I fear that now it’s too late.”

But just then the cactus felt a strange stirring and unfolding, and it knew a surge of joy that erased all despair. At its very tip, like a sudden crown, a glorious flower suddenly opened in bloom.

Never had the desert known such a blossom. Its fragrance perfumed the air far and wide and brought happiness to all passing by. The butterflies paused to admire its beauty, and that night even the moon smiled when it rose to find such a treasure.

The cactus heard a voice. “You have waited long,” the Lord said. “The heart that seeks to do good reflects My glory, and will always bring something worthwhile to the world, something in which all can rejoice – even if for only a moment.”

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with patience, the mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown.

(~_~)

 

 the cactus (story found here)

the midget cactus stood there
next to the train tracks
under blistered sun
drowning in the drought
shriveled up like raisins
as if waiting for a ride

she just turned, and was eight
set to save its life
to be the hero
with sparkling pink dress
taking stellar cellular photos
barking demands, was her super power

I, the parent
plucked and planted the cactus
according to her whimpers
in an elephant ear pot
spreading multi-colored pebbles like frosting
adding faucet rain drops

magnify glass, tweezers and lamp
surgically removing miniature thorns
from callused grown up fingers
measuring no regrets
in exchange for adolescent smiles
pondering lessons learned

passing by, a green fly swatter
in hand makes a Jedi’s sword
daring to save the planet
killing flies one smack at a time
running into the black cat
and a bonsai of thorns

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how to pick up a cactus

have an excellent day

 

Art~

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Art~

Emma (Sunshine),

wedding day

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