This first story is a classic Buddhist parable:
One day the Buddha was resting with a group of monks in the woods. They had just finished a meal, and were talking with each other. Suddenly a farmer came by, visibly upset and distraught. He yelled, “Monks, have you seen my cows?”
“We have not seen any cows,” the Buddha responded.
“You know,” the man wailed, “I am the most miserable human on Earth. I had my 12 cows secured, but for some reason, they all ran away this morning. I had only two acres of sesame seed plants this year, but the insects ate them all. I think I am going to kill myself.” The farmer was suffering tremendously.
Out of compassion, the Buddha said, “No, sir, we have not seen your cows. Maybe you should look for them elsewhere.”
After the farmer left, the Buddha turned to his monks, looked at them each in turn, smiled, and said, “Dear friends, do you know that you are the happiest people on Earth? You don’t have any cows to lose.”
I recently heard this second story from a Rabbi:
A man was miserable with his life. He was not particularly spiritual, but was on a long drive, so decided to pray. Low and behold, God answers. He explained his unhappiness and that he wants a new life. God responded, “Yes, I can grant this. But, it's going to cost you. How much have you got”
“Well,” the man replied, “I’ve only got $20.”
“Fine,” God says, “That $20 is now mine.”
“But God, how am I going to put gas in my car, if I give you my last $20?”
“Oh, you’ve got a car. I see. Well, the cost of your new life is now a bit more– $20, plus your car.”
“My car too? If I give you my car, how am I going to get to work in the morning?”
“Oh…you’ve got a job. Well, the price of your new life just went up again. Now, the price of your new life is $20, your car, and your job.”
The man was really starting to worry, but he really also wanted a new life– he was so unhappy. He thought he’d try again, because this was not going to work, “God, thank you, and I really want a new life. But if I give you my money, my car, and my job, how am I going to pay the mortgage on my house?”
“A mortgage? Well now–you’ve got a house!. The price of your new life is now your money, your car, your job, and your house.”
Before he could stop himself, the man blurted “My family? Where will my family sleep?”
“Family? Wife and kids? The price of your new life went up a bit more– it's now your $20, your car, your job, your house, and your family.”
By now, the man did not want to say anything, so, tight-lipped, just exhaled, “Mmm-hhmm.”
So God says, “I’m about to give you your new life, your happy life, but before I do, I’d like you to do something for me.”
Still not trusting himself to speak, the man again nods.
“Great” God says. “This $20? It's not your $20 anymore. It's mine now. But, I’d like you to spend it for me. And since it’s my $20, not yours, when you spend it, you can only spend it on things that I want, that I like. Can you do that for me?”
Still not trusting himself, the man again responds “Mmm-hhmm.”
“And you see this car? It's my car now. But I’d like you to drive it for me, to use it for me. And since it's my car now– not yours!-- you can only drive to places I want to go. And this job you had– again, it's mine now. But I’d like you to go for me, to do it for me– and since it's my job now, I want you to do business, to do work, in the way that God would do business. Can you do this for me?” The man nods.
“And you see this house? It’s my house now, but I want you to live in it for me. But since it’s now my house, not yours, I want you to treat it as God’s house, and only do things in it that are appropriate for that. Can you do that for me?
“Great. And see this family? This wife and children? This is now God’s wife and God’s children, but I want you to live with them. And I want you to treat them the way God’s wife and God’s children would be treated. Can you do that for me?
Still not trusting himself, the man again responds “Mmm-hhmm.”
Great. Here’s your $20, here’s your car, here’s your job, here’s your house, here’s your family…and here’s your new life.
The farmer is crushed because his possessions slipped away, and with them, his sense of security. The monks, by contrast, are free precisely because they have nothing binding them. Same state of being, dramatically different perspective on it.
The second story is in many ways just a different version of the first. Rather than clinging tightly to the elements of his life, the man’s view on them changes. Nothing really belongs to him, even though everything remains in his possession. The people and objects in his life are not his to possess or cling to, they are instead entrusted to him to steward.
So, what are the things that we are holding onto that are making us less free? Are our cows bringing us joy or misery? Do the things we think we own really belong to us, or are they merely entrusted to us for a short while?
Love,
Doc
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