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A Thousand Words

Last night, the wife, my little 9 year old daughter and I watched the movie, “A Thousand Words.” I was taken by the movie’s ‘zen’ appeal and of course ‘Eddie Murphy’s’ comic charm. Even my lil girl laughed and loved the movie that was charming and filled with a wonderful message of, “the power of words.”


After stretching the truth on a deal with a spiritual guru, literary agent Jack McCall finds a Bodhi tree on his property. Its appearance holds a valuable lesson on the consequences of every word we speak.

Eddie Murphy is Jack McCall, a fast-talking literary agent, who can close any deal, any time, any way. He has set his sights on New Age guru Dr. Sinja (Cliff Curtis) for his own selfish purposes.

But Dr. Sinja is on to him, and Jack’s life comes unglued after a magical Bodhi tree mysteriously appears in his backyard. With every word Jack speaks, a leaf falls from the tree and he realizes that when the last leaf falls, both he and the tree are toast. Words have never failed Jack McCall, but now he’s got to stop talking … or he’s a goner.

A Thousand Words


Words are a powerful tool, but not just the words but the passion and emotions that we use with them matter as much as what we say. As in the story with Buddha and the lake, where a married couple scream at each other because their hearts have become distant, even though they stand next to each other. When their love was new and fresh, their hearts were so close that they did not need words, the heart knew what the other was feeling.


I see this movie in so many others, you can’t take a hammer and pound zen into them. No matter how many stories, parables or quotes you throw at them, they just don’t get it. Like watching a dog chase it’s own tail, never going anywhere spiritually in life, just existing. In this movie, Eddie Murphy has to go through a harsh trial to understand, passion, a better way of living and of course the power of words. Needless to say, I recommend to all, watch this movie.

 words are tied to emotions like a tree’s root reaching into the earth.


choose your words wisely




 I believe one can respect Buddha, the man, as one would respect Abraham Lincoln for what he did while he was alive. When I read the following short story (in my daily search for zen) I thought it was an excellent example of how Buddha was a man, enlightened and lived to better mankind, not… claiming to be a god… but lived a simple life here on earth. With-out going (religiously)  indepth… I believe ‘we the people’ can respect him … simply for the man he was, no matter what your religion may be!

Buddha,’ Siddhartha’ – whose name means “the one whose objective is attained” – was born into a noble family around the year 560 AC. in the city of Kapilavastu in Nepal. 

     Legend says that at the moment that his mother was making love with his father, she had a vision: six elephants, each one with a lotus flower on his back, were coming in her direction. The next instant, Siddhartha was conceived.

     During her pregnancy, Queen Maya, his mother, decided to call the wise men in the kingdom to interpret the vision she had had, and they were unanimous in affirming that the child about to be brought into the world would be a great king or a great priest.

     Siddhartha’s childhood and adolescence were very like ours; his parents wanted by all means to protect their son from knowing about the misery of the world. So he led his life confined between the walls of the gigantic palace where his parents lived and where everything seemed perfect and harmonious. He married, had a son and knew only the pleasures and delights of life.

     One night, however, when he turned 29, he asked one of the guards to take him into town. The guard objected, for the king could become furious, but Siddhartha was so insistent that the man eventually gave in, and they left the palace together.

     The first thing they saw was an old beggar with a sad expression on his face, asking for alms. Further ahead they came across a group of lepers, and right after them a funeral procession passed by. “I have never seen this before!” he must have said to the guard, who may have answered: “Well, that’s old age, and that’s disease, and death.” On their way back to the palace, they came upon a holy man, his hair shorn and wearing only a yellow cloak, who said: “my life was a torment, so I have given everything up so that I don’t have to incarnate as myself and suffer old age and sickness and death all over again.”

     The following night, Siddhartha waited until his wife and son had fallen asleep. He entered the room quietly, kissed them both and again asked the guard to escort him out of the palace; there he handed him his sword with the jewel-set hilt, his clothes made with the finest tissues that the human hand could weave, asking him to return them all to his father; then he shaved his head, covered his body with a yellow mantle and set out in search of an answer to the suffering of the world.

     For many years he wandered all over the north of India, meeting monks and holy men who traveled around there, learning the oral traditions that spoke of reincarnation, illusion and paying for the sins of past lives (karma). When he felt that he had learned enough, he built himself a shelter on the banks of the River Nairanjana, where he lived doing penance and meditating.

     His life style and will power ended up drawing the attention of other men who in their search for the truth came to him for spiritual advice. But after six long years, all that Siddhartha could notice was that his body was weaker and weaker and the constant infections did not let him meditate as he should.

     The legend says that one morning, when he went into the river to make his toilet, he no longer had the strength to rise. When he was about to drown, a tree bent down its branches and let him clutch to them not to be swept away by the current. Exhausted, he managed to reach the river bank before fainting.

     Hours later, a peasant passed by, a milk-vendor who offered him a little food. Siddhartha accepted, to the disgust of the other men who lived there with him. Believing that saint no longer to possess the strength to resist temptation, they decided to leave him immediately. But he gladly drank the milk offered him, feeling that it was a sign from God and a heaven-sent blessing.

     Encouraged by the meal he had just eaten, he lent no importance to being abandoned by his old disciples; he sat himself down next to a fig-tree and decided to go on meditating about life and suffering. To test him, the god Mara sent three of his daughters to try to distract him with thoughts of sex, thirst, and the pleasures of life. But Siddhartha was so absorbed in his meditation that he did not notice any of this; at that very moment he was experiencing a sort of revelation, remembering all his past lives. As he did so, he also recalled the lessons he had forgotten (all men learn the necessary, but rarely are we are able to put to use what we have learned).

     In his state of ecstasy, he experienced Paradise (Nirvana), where “there is no earth, nor water, nor fire, nor air, it is neither this world nor another world, and there is no sun, no moon, no birth and no death. There lies the end of all of man’s suffering.”
     When that morning came to an end, he had reached the true meaning of life and become Buddha (the Enlightened One). But instead of remaining in this state for the rest of his days, he decided to go back to living among others and to teach everyone all that he had learned and experienced.

     He who once was called Siddhartha, now transformed into Buddha, left behind him the tree under whose branches he had managed to reach enlightenment, and set out for the city of Sarnath, where he met his old companions and drew a circle on the ground to represent the wheel of existence that leads constantly to birth and death. He explained that he had not been happy as a prince who owned everything, nor had he learned wisdom through total renunciation. What human beings should seek in order to reach Paradise was the so-called “middle way”: neither seeking pain, nor being a slave to pleasure.

     Impressed at what they heard from Buddha, the men decided to follow him on his pilgrimages from town to town. As they heard the good news, more and more disciples joined the group, and Buddha began to organize communities of devotees, following the principle that they could help one another mutually in the duties of body and spirit.

     On one of his journeys, Buddha returned to his home town, where his father grieved deeply on seeing him begging for alms. But he kissed his father’s feet and said: “you, Sire, belong to a lineage of kings, but I belong to a lineage of Buddhas, and millions of them also lived begging for alms.” The king remembered the prophecy that had been made when his son was conceived, and made his peace with Buddha. His son and his wife, who for so many years had complained of having been abandoned, eventually understood his mission and founded a community which began to spread his teachings.

     When he was approaching the age of eighty, he ate something spoiled and realized he was going to die of food poisoning. Helped by his disciples, he managed to travel as far as Kusinhagara, where he lay down for the last time beside a tree.

     Buddha called his cousin Ananda and said:
     – “I am old and my pilgrimage in this life is nearing its end. My body looks like an old cart that has been used a great deal and is still working only because some of its parts are precariously tied up with straps of leather. But that’s enough, now it’s time to go.”
     Then he turned to his disciples and asked if anyone had any doubts. Nobody said a word. He asked the same question three times, but they all remained in silence.

     Buddha died smiling. His teachings, today codified in the form of a philosophical religion, are spread across most of Asia. In essence, they consist of understanding oneself profoundly and having a deep respect for one’s neighbor.



may your day be filled with enlightenment


The disciple said to the master: “I have spent a great deal of my life seeing things that I should not, wishing for things I should not wish for, making plans I should not be doing.”

The master invited the disciple to go for a walk.  On the path he pointed out to a plant and asked the disciple if he knew what that was.

“Belladonna.  It can kill someone who eats its leaves.” Stated the student.

The master then said, “But it cannot kill someone who only contemplates it.  In the same way the negative desires cannot cause any evil, if you do not allow yourself be seduced by them.”


When Noah was planting a vineyard, Satan appeared to him and asked permission to help him.

Satan brought first a lamb, killed it and poured its blood over the furrows.  Then he soaked the earth with lion’s blood.  Following he trapped a monkey and used his blood in the same way.  And finally it was the turn of a pig.  Then Satan explained to Noah his intentions:

When man would drink the first cup of wine he will turn sweet and happy as the lamb.  With the second cup, he will be valiant and a fighter like the lion, bragging of his power.  Then after the third cup, he will become ridicule as the monkey.  But if he drinks four or more cups he will become a repugnant pig, dirty and bestial, capable of wallowing in mud.


food for thought

How do you like your coffee? Black, with sugar, with cream or perhaps you don’t like coffee and/or prefer tea or cocoa. How do you like the bitter truth delivered to you? Would you like to hear it plain and bitter, or would you prefer it sweetened up a little bit before it is served to you. Sprinkle a bit of french vanilla over the words and make it more to your liking or just spell it out… it is what it is!

I am not a diplomat, so it eludes me why we give millions/billions of dollars to foreign countries when we have hungry and homeless people right here on our soil. (But then again…) I have not seen it yet, but I await the viewing of the movie… ‘Machine Gun Preacher’ …. based on a true story. Basically, a man who has done so many things wrong, finds religion and decides to go to Africa to help feed the hungry and finds that the food and money that is for the hungry is taken by the rebels. (This is the root of most problems with sending money to other countries) The money goes toward buying guns and funding armies. A story where one man made a difference.

Take a stand or go and sit down and have a cup of sweetened coffee. Take the bull by the horns and tame the beast or go sit down and watch the show. You have to stand for something or you’ll fall for anything. We are not the new Romans headed for a great fall, we are Americans, united and versitile. We are not a Belladonna, we are Americans where the icon is the Bald Eagle… watch us soar!

One may be but a drop of water, but banned together and we can make a wave.

(warrior of virtue and honor)



zen will not tap you on the shoulder, zen must be found



They say that one day man wanted to know the Truth and asked it to God.  God wrote it on a great stone disk and saw that it was too big for man to understand it.  But, answering his request, threw the disk to Earth which broke in many pieces.
Each one that picked up a piece founded a religion, or a Church, or a philosophy, etc. For which every one of them has a part of the Truth, that will be in the hands of humanity the moment all be united.  All united one day!


The clay statue of Buddha reached almost three meters in height.  During generations it had been considered sacred by the inhabitants of the place.  One day, due to the growth of the city, they decided to translate it to a more appropriate site.  This delicate task was assigned to a recognized monk, who, after planning carefully, started his mission.  His luck was so bad that, when moving the statue, this one slipped and fell, cracking in various parts.
Regretful, the monk and his team decided to spend the night meditating over the alternatives.  They were long, dark and rainy hours.  The monk, instead of despairing, focused in finding a way out.  Suddenly, when observing the cracked sculpture, he realized that the light of his candle reflected through the cracks of the statue.  He thought that they were drops of rain.  He drew near the crack and observed that behind the clay there was something, but he was not sure what.
He consulted his colleagues and decided to take a risk that looked like a madness:  He asked for a hammer and started to break the clay, discovering that below it was hidden the Buddha of solid gold of almost three meters of height.  During centuries this beautiful treasure had been covered by ordinary clay.  Historians found proofs that demonstrated that, a one time, the town was going to be attacked by bandits.  The residents, to protect their treasure, covered it with clay to make it look common and ordinary.  The town was attacked and sacked, but the Buddha was ignored by the bandits.  Afterwards, the survivors thought that was better to continue hiding it behind the clay.  Over time, people started to think that the Golden Buddha was a legend or an invention of the old ones.
Until, finally, all forgot the true treasure because they thought that something so beautiful could not be true.
perhaps, Steven Hawking’s is a perfect example of a clay Buddha
food for thought~ 
 thoughts from Art… chew on this…
Do we (some) hide our true treasures we possess inside, just like the clay Buddha. I understand the broken heart and how one will shelter it, to keep from being hurt again. We create a rough exterior in order keep from being hurt, a self defense shield, all to protect the jewel inside ourselves. Much like the villagers covering the gold Buddha in order to protect it, but rather than take the clay away and allow it to shine, it was kept covered with drab clay.
I was watching, Steven Hawking’s Grand Design last night. (If your into reality (or what is reality)) I recommend the 1 hour show on Discovery. (I’m a discovery watcher…. Basically, reality is what you or I make it. For true reality is nothing like our own reality. There are multiple realities, ….. each of us live in the center of our own universe, and each live according to what we have been taught and subjected to.
Truth is, we are made up of millions/billions of cells that make our physical self and even our mental structure. The process allows us to think, feel and generate emotions that make up our whole. Each of us are uniquely different, yet the same basic structure. A living, breathing, body and soul that lives but like a spark of life in the true reality. An amber from the flame in the whole design of things.
Yesterday I stated that we are like fleas on a dog, that is; the planet is the dog, but in the true design of the universe we are like small atoms compared to the reality of the universe. A very small part of the whole and yet each of us feel our problems and our lives are larger than life itself. We are like the hermit crab (a mind inside a shell; our bodies) and we carry our life’s burdens with us. While the waves crash along the shore line and the sun beats down long after we are gone, leaving a shell behind. Be like the cloud that floats through life and sees all the worlds wonders then slowly dissipates and leaves.
may your day be filled with smiles

Who is the Highest?

Author: Sri Chinmoy

Once there was a very pious Brahmin who was utterly devoted to his family deity. He worshipped this deity every day, sitting cross legged in front of the shrine in his home.

One day during his meditation, he observed that the prasad or food offered to the deity, which is customarily eaten by the devotee after worship, was snatched away by a mouse and eaten in front of his very eyes. The Brahmin was astonished to see this and concluded that the mouse was more powerful than the deity. Otherwise, how could it dare to eat the offering? So he grabbed hold of the mouse, and tying it with a string to the place of worship, decided to worship this creature instead of the deity.

He removed the picture of the deity from the shrine, and started worshipping the mouse. One day his cat, jealous of the attention the mouse was receiving, pounced upon the tiny creature. The two had a terrible fight, but of course the poor mouse was killed in the battle.

Now it was quite clear to the Brahmin that the cat was more powerful than the mouse, so he started worshipping the cat whom he had previously neglected. This continued for some time until one day the Brahmin’s dog entered the room of worship. Seeing the attention that the cat was getting from his master, the dog became furiously jealous and violently attacked the cat. The unhappy cat was bitten and scratched all over and bled in many places. When the Brahmin considered the situation, it became quite clear to him that the dog was more powerful than the cat.

So he removed the cat from the place of worship and placed the dog there instead. He now began to worship the dog, who was tied with a rope to the shrine. The animal’s continual barking, however, was a source of great irritation to the Brahmin’s wife. One day in utter exasperation, she threw a brick at the barking dog. It landed on his head with a thump. The poor dog was in great pain and cried piteously over his wound.

The Brahmin, hearing the whimpering of the poor dog, came into the room, and seeing what had happened, concluded that it must be due to the superior power of his wife.

So he decided to let the dog go and to worship his wife. He said to her, “At long last I realise that you are the most powerful. Only you can be the object of my adoration!”

The wife was thunderstruck at these remarks, to say nothing of being puzzled and embarrassed. How could she be the object of his adoration, she thought, since all her life she had been made to feel like his servant, constantly at his beck and call? She finally consented, however, since she had no alternative.

Now the Brahmin’s wife had become his object of adoration and worship. He addressed her with words of devotion and praised her divine qualities. So devoted was he that he had the impulse to worship her even when she was asleep. He would awaken her and make her take her place at the shrine where he could adore her. Or if she were in the shower, he would call her to come out. No matter what she was doing she would have to stop and come to the shrine to be worshipped.

Finally the Brahmin’s wife became so fed up with this farce that she told him the whole thing was nonsense. At this he became furious. “Nonsense?” he echoed. “How dare you criticise my wisdom?” And he yelled at her loudly. The poor frightened woman began weeping bitter tears.

Now, seeing his own power, it became very clear to the Brahmin that he was the strongest of all. So he started worshipping himself, saying, “I am God, I am the greatest, I am everything.”

But it did not take him much time to realise that he was merely a prey to his desires. It was his desires that were compelling him to action, either good or bad. So since his habit was to worship the most powerful force, he started worshipping his desires. But he quickly gave this up, for he saw immediately that his desires had no strength of their own. It was his senses that compelled the desires to possess and be possessed.

Then the Brahmin started worshipping the five senses: sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch. He was now pondering deeply on these subtle things which he was worshipping. After much thought, he concluded that it was the mind which was responsible for the functioning of the senses.

So he began worshipping his mind, and felt proud that he had progressed so far from the ignorant animals he had worshipped only a few months before. But he found that his mind was far from satisfaction, and even farther from perfection. So he catered into his heart.

The heart, in spite of having peace and joy and harmony, was still lacking in absolute fulfilment. He was yearning for the supreme power. He concluded that the heart was not enough, so he entered into his soul.

There, in union with his own soul, he got the first glimpse of his divine fulfilment. He plunged deep into the spiritual life. But the individual soul, he found, is not all pervading or all fulfilling. He aspired for the highest. He went even deeper. Deep within he discovered the Supreme Self.

Here, at the end of his journey, the Brahmin saw that the Supreme Self is the most powerful. The Supreme Self, which has neither beginning nor end, is all pervading and all fulfilling. The Supreme Self, which is both Creator and Creation, is the Highest.


Human beings are spiritual creatures, the proof is in the diversity of all cultures and their religions, the base similarity is… worship! ~Art


may your day be filled with…


This story is few centuries old when wooden blocks were used to preserve the holy words.
Tetsugen was a Great devotee of Zen in Japan and although he has left the body he is still very much alive in many hearts. During his time Sutras (Holy scripts) were available in Chinese language only.
Zen had started in china and from there it flourished more in Japan and now it is reaching to people all over the world. Tetsugen decided to print these Sutras (Holy scripts) in wooden blocks. It was a big project as 7000 wooden blocks were required.
Tetsugen himself did not have the money so he started traveling around the country and collecting the funds. Few people gave money lavishly but mostly people were miser in their donation but Tetsugen thanked each person from his heart full of gratitude. After 10 years Tetsugen had enough money to start publishing the Sutras.
Incidentally at the same time the river overflowed and many families were in distress. Tetsugen took the money he had collected for the project and used it to help the starving families.
Then again Tetsugen started collecting the money to raise the funds for the books. It took him several more years to collect the required fund. Incidentally this time an epidemic followed in the country. The generous Tetsugen again distributed the money he had collected to help the starving people.
Now for a third time Tetsugen again started collecting money. Finally after twenty years, his wish was fulfilled. He managed to print the Sutras in to wooden block.
The wooden blocks which were produced by Tetsugen are available at the Obaku monastery in Kyoto. The Japanese people tell their children that Tetsugen had made three sets of sutras and first two invisible sets of sutras surpass even the last.
Source: This story originally published in the book “Zen Flesh, Zen Bones”

There once was a small town farmer who was the local preacher since the township could not afford a pastor, he would give the sermons on Sundays. One day the farmer and his wife was called away from the farm to tend to a young woman who was to give birth.

Upon hearing this a thief took advantage of this and creeped into the Farmer’s home and went through the house in search of valuables. The only thing he could find was a pearl necklace that was a family heir-loom given to the farmer who had given it to his loving wife.

Upon leaving the house the thief was confronted by the farmer’s dog who growled, then gave chase. The thief ran but the dog was able to catch the thief and pull him to the ground. The thief kicked and freed himself from the dog’s sharp teeth and escaped into the barn. There he came head to head with the farmer’s goat that felt threatened and head butted the thief several times till the thief crawled from the barn to escape the goat where he was then again met by the dog.

The thief made it to his feet and began to run but then again the dog nipped at the thief’s leg and the thief fell to the ground and dropped the pearl necklace. The pearl necklace came apart and the pearls went flying all over the yard. The thief rose and dove through the fence to get away from the dog.

There in the fence was the farmer’s temper mental bull that quickly charged the thief and knock him down, hard. The thief was barely able to crawl through the fence and was again faced with the farmer’s dog that continued to bite him till the thief finally got away.

The farmer and his wife came home and never knew what had happened. They never thought to look and see that the pearl necklace was still there, they just simply went about their daily lives. 

Many days later, the farmer’s wife went out to the chicken – coop and gathered eggs. When she started cooking breakfast and as she cracked an egg open there inside the shell was a pearl. She opened another and another and each egg had a pearl in it. The farmer and his wife thought this was strange till the local law enforcement came to see the farmer and told him that there was a young man in the hospital and the story unfolded as to where he came by his broken bones, cuts and bruises.

The farmer did not press charges for the chickens had eaten the pearls and eventually most of the pearls were returned and put back into a necklace. The farmer offered the thief a job in exchange for room and board and the next sermon the farmer/ preacher gave; was about ‘Karma’  … “Live well and righteous and the lord will watch over you…. life is what you make it!”

by Art~


may you generate good karma always

A female CNN journalist heard about a very old Jewish man who had been going to the Western Wall to pray, twice a day, every day, for a long, long time.

So she went to check it out. She went to the Western Wall and there he was, walking slowly up to the holy site.

She watched him pray and after about 45 minutes, when he turned to leave, using a cane and moving very slowly, she approached him for an interview.

“Pardon me, sir, I’m Rebecca Smith from CNN. What’s your name?”

“Morris Fishbien,” he replied.

“Sir, how long have you been coming to the Western Wall and praying?”

“For about 60 years.”

“60 years! That’s amazing! What do you pray for?”

“I pray for peace between the Christians, Jews and the Muslims. I pray for all the wars and all the hatred to stop. I pray for all our children to grow up safely as responsible adults, and to love their fellow man.”

“How do you feel after doing this for 60 years?”

“Like I’m talking to a wall.”

story source: Author Unknown


may your day be wall-less


Jeremy was born with a twisted body and a slow mind. At the age of 12 he was still in second grade, seemingly unable to learn. His teacher, Doris Miller, often became exasperated with him. He would squirm in his seat, drool, and make grunting noises. At other times, he spoke clearly and distinctly, as if a spot of light had penetrated the darkness of his brain. Most of the time, however, Jeremy just irritated his teacher.

One day she called his parents and asked them to come in for a consultation. As the Forresters entered the empty classroom, Doris said to them, “Jeremy really belongs in a special school. It isn’t fair to him to be with younger children who don’t have learning problems. Why, there is a five year gap between his age and that of the other students.”

Mrs. Forrester cried softly into a tissue, while her husband spoke. “Miss Miller,” he said, “there is no school of that kind nearby. It would be a terrible shock for Jeremy if we had to take him out of this school. We know he really likes it here.” Doris sat for a long time after they had left, staring at the snow outside the window. Its coldness seemed to seep into her soul. She wanted to sympathize with the Forresters. After all, their only child had a terminal illness. But it wasn’t fair to keep him in her class. She had 18 other youngsters to teach, and Jeremy was a distraction. Furthermore, he would never learn to read and write. Why waste any more time trying?

As she pondered the situation, guilt washed over her. Here I am complaining when my problems are nothing compared to that poor family, she thought. Lord, please help me to be more patient with Jeremy. From that day on, she tried hard to ignore Jeremy’s noises and his blank stares. Then one day, he limped to her desk, dragging his bad leg behind him.

“I love you, Miss Miller,” he exclaimed, loud enough for the whole class to hear. The other students snickered, and Doris’ face turned red.

She stammered … “Wh-why that’s very nice, Jeremy. N-now please take your seat.”

Spring came, and the children talked excitedly about the coming of Easter. Doris told them the story of Jesus, and then to emphasize the idea of new life springing forth, she gave each of the children a large plastic egg. “Now,” she said to them, “I want you to take this home and bring it back tomorrow with something inside that shows new life. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss Miller,” the children responded enthusiastically … all except for Jeremy. He listened intently; his eyes never left her face. He did not even make his usual noises. Had he understood what she had said about Jesus’ death and resurrection? Did he understand the assignment? Perhaps she should call his parents and explain the project to them.

That evening, Doris’ kitchen sink stopped up. She called the landlord and waited an hour for him to come by and unclog it. After that, she still had to shop for groceries, iron a blouse, and prepare a vocabulary test for the next day. She completely forgot about phoning Jeremy’s parents

The next morning, 19 children came to school, laughing and talking as they placed their eggs in the large wicker basket on Miss Miller’s desk. After they completed their math lesson, it was time to open the eggs.

In the first egg, Doris found a flower. “Oh yes, a flower is certainly a sign of new life,” she said.  “When plants peek through the ground, we know that spring is here.”

A small girl in the first row waved her arm. “That’s my egg, Miss Miller,” she called out.

The next egg contained a plastic butterfly which looked very real. Doris held it up. “We all know that a caterpillar changes and grows into a beautiful butterfly. Yes, that’s new life, too.”
Little Judy smiled proudly and said, “Miss Miller, that one is mine.”

Next, Doris found a rock with moss on it. She explained that moss, too, showed life. Billy spoke up from the back of the classroom “My daddy helped me,” he beamed.

Then Doris opened the fourth egg. She gasped. The egg was empty.

Surely it must be Jeremy’s she thought, and of course, he did not understand her instructions. If only she had not forgotten to phone his parents.  Because she did not want to embarrass him,
she quietly set the egg aside and reached for another.

Suddenly, Jeremy spoke up.
“Miss Miller, aren’t you going to talk about my egg?”

Flustered, Doris replied, “But Jeremy, your egg is empty.”

He looked into her eyes and said softly …

“Yes, but Jesus’ tomb was empty too!”

Time stopped.

When she could speak again, Doris asked him,  “Do you know why the tomb was empty?”

“Oh, yes,” Jeremy said, “Jesus was killed and put in there. Then His Father raised Him up.”

The recess bell rang. While the children excitedly ran out to the school yard …Doris cried.  The cold inside her melted completely away.

Three months later, Jeremy died. Those who paid their respects at the mortuary were surprised to see 19 eggs on top of his casket … all of them empty.

19 Empty Eggs


may your easter be ‘uplifting’

A grieving mother approached Buddha, carrying the body of her dead child in her arms. She begged him, “I know you can bring him back to life.”

 Buddha replied, “Death is inevitable; I cannot restore his life.” The woman was devastated, and was not prepared to accept this answer. Seeing her pain, Buddha said, “I can bring your child back to life, but only if you bring me mustard seeds from a person who has never had a death in his family.”

Hearing these words, a hope was awakened within the grieving mother’s heart. Immediately she rushed out to beg. She knocked at the first door and asked for some mustard seeds. The middle-aged lady answering the door was very kind and asked her to wait a moment. The woman asked, “There has not been a death in your family, has there?”

The lady started crying and said, “Six months ago my husband died in his sleep.” The mother was disappointed and she moved on.

The second person she approached was a young man, who said that his grandfather had passed away only a few days earlier. The third was an old woman whose grown up son and daughter-in-law had been killed in an accident. One after the other, the woman found that someone or the other had died in every family.

By the time the woman returned to Buddha, she had made peace with her son’s death. She had accepted the inevitable.



Acceptance is the key to tranquility

may acceptance come easy for you this day!


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Emma (Sunshine),

wedding day