The Difference Between a Warrior and an....

The Difference Between a Warrior and an....

The difference between a warrior and an ordinary man, is that the ordinary man sees everything as either a blessing or a curse. Where as the warrior sees everything as a challenge.

Its not the critic that counts.....

For credit belongs to the man in the arena, who's face is marred by dust, and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again because there is no effort without error and shortcomings, who knows the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows in the end the high achievement of triumph and who at worst, if he fails while daring greatly, knows his place shall never be alongside those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

-Theodore Roosevelt

The Enlightened Milan Samani explains......

Hindsight is an interesting thing

I Look at myself now and compare to where I was and who I was a few years ago, and it makes me smile.

Both my parents are spiritual and religious people, but neither imposed their perspective on me. My mother always said that I should come to my own conclusions regarding theses very fundamental matters of divinity and the purpose of life.

So for many years, I considered myself an agnostic – I wasn’t opposed to idea of spirituality, but I had a n inbuilt sense of humour about it. Deep down, I regarded religion as a form of weakness – an opiate for the uneducated masses who didn’t have the open minded outlook that I possessed. That’s not to say I wasn’t interested in philosophical matters- I have always read a lot and been interested in issues regarding the nature man, but my sources were varied – my philosophy of life was gleamed from literature, philosophy, movies, and the odd e-mail forward.

But I always thought I was ok – we all do don’t we? I never considered myself to really be lacking anything – my life didn’t feel empty – sure there plenty of desires I had to fulfil – nice car, nice house, good looking wife – but I was comfortable that these would all one day come and that I would eventually be a happy person - the privilege of being young.

Because surely that’s the point of all this - life I mean – to be happy. And I figured that as long as these reasonably extravagant but not to modest desires were met, I would find contentment and be a happy man.

And then I was roped into attending one the Chinmaya Mission weekend retreats. The prospect of spending a weekend with a bunch of people talking about God was not very appealing but the open mindedness that I prized so much kicked in and besides, the approach being taken by these people was very logical, very rational and above all very philosophical – so I went

While there, I was confronted with a very basic question – so basic in fact, that it had escaped most of the literature, movies and even e-mail forwards that I had studied so intently – and it was this.

If it is happiness that we are seeking then were is the location of this happiness? If it is in objects or people or even ideologies then why do not those same things give everyone an equal share of happiness? Why is that BMW’s make me extremely happy, while my sister would rather have a Gucci handbag?

The conclusion was therefore that happiness is not in the world outside – happiness is internal – the key to the secret of existence is not in a microchip, a fast car but is inside of us – we just need to learn the method of unlocking it.

And this is what Hinduism, is all about – the art of right contact - it is not giving up worldly possessions - it is enjoying the wonders and marvels of the world, but interacting with them in the right way, not so you are constantly chasing desires to be happy (all I need is one more car, or if I get married I’ll be happy, or if I get divorced I'll be happy etc...) but it is to live in such a way that the world enthuses you with dynamism, efficiency and clarity of thought.

What we are trying to do here at the Chinmaya Mission – to change our perspective and vision of life.

The world can be a harsh, rough a difficult place, full of pain and pressure. But what if we could use this rough surface to sharpen ourselves into Young men and women of integrity such that we can become positive contributors to society, producing more that what we consume and hopefully spreading a little good in this World.

A certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of happiness
from the wisest man in the world. The lad had wandered through the desert
for forty days, and finally came upon a beautiful castle, high atop a
mountain. It was there that the wise man lived.

Rather than finding a saintly man, though, our hero, on entering the room of
the castle, saw a hive of activity: tradesman came and went, people were
conversing in the corners, a small orchestra was playing soft music, and
there was a table covered with platters of the most delicious food in that
part of the world. The wise man conversed with everyone and the boy had to
wait two hours before it was his turn to be given the man's attention.

The wise man listened attentively to the boy's explanation of why he had
come, but told him he didn't have time just then to explain to him the
secret of happiness. He suggested that the boy look around the palace and
return in two hours.

    "Meanwhile, I want you to do something,' said the wise man, handing the
boy a teaspoon that held two drops of oil. "As you wander around, carry this
spoon with you without allowing the oil to spill."

The boy began climbing and descending the many stairways of the palace,
keeping his eyes fixed on the spoon. After two hours, he returned to the
room where the wise man was.

    "Well," asked the wise man, "did you see the Persian tapestries hanging
in my dining hall? Did you see the gardens that it took a master gardener
ten years to create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?"

The boy was embarrassed, and confessed that he had observed nothing. His
only concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise man had entrusted
to him.

    "Then go back and explore the marvels of my world," said the wise man.
"You cannot trust a man if you do not know his house."

Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his exploration of
the palace, this time, observing all of the works of art on the ceilings and
the walls. He saw the gardens, the mountains all around him, the beauty of
the flowers, and the taste with which everything had been selected. Upon
returning to the wise man, he related in detail, everything he had seen.

    "But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?" asked the wise man.

Looking down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was gone.

    "Well there is only one piece of advice that I can give you, said the
wisest of wise men. "The secret of happiness is to see all the marvels of
the world, and never forget the drops of oil on the spoon."

The Chinmaya Mission has given me my spoon. Hopefully, through the activities of this centre, I won’t forget about my drops of Oil.

Hari Om.

When I was in Boston not long ago, I found myself munching on doughnuts and sucking down a cup of coffee flavoured coffee. I was sitting in the park watching the world go by, when this conversation between a mother and her kid caught my attention.....

"You're not even eight yet son, when you start playing baseball, you aren't going to be able to run that fast because of your operation," said the mother trying to prepare her kid for any disappointment. "Don't worry ma," replied the kid. "I don't need to run that fast. When I play baseball, I'll just hit em out of the park. Then I'll be able to walk!"

Good goddamn coffee!

A tourist was walking down a quiet, deserted beach at sunset. As he walked along, he bagan to notice another man in the distance. As he grew nearer, he noticed the local native kept leaning down, picking something up and throwing it out into the water. As the tourist approached he saw that that he was picking up starfish that had been washed ashore and one at a time, he was throwing them back into the water.

The tourist was puzzled. He approached the man and said, 'Good evening, I was wondering what you're doing?'

'I'm throwing these starfish back into the ocean, It is low tide at the moment and that is why there are so many ashore. If I don't throw them back into the sea, they'll die from lack of oxygen.'

'I understand that,' replied the tourist, 'but there must be thousands of starfish on this beach, not to mention all the other thousands of beaches up and down the coast. Can't you see you can't possibly make a difference.'

The local smiled, bent down, picked up another starfish, and threw it back into the sea. He turned to the tourist and replied, 'Made a difference to that one!'

Once there was a Tiger (Hu) who caught a Fox (Hu). Just when the Tiger wanted to eat the Fox, the Fox started to laugh and said, 'How dare you? I am the king of the jungle!' The Tiger was baffled and replied, 'Who has heard of a Fox being the king of the jungle?' The Fox replied, 'If you don't believe me, follow me into the jungle. I will show you how all animals are afraid of me.' As the Tiger followed the Fox into the jungle, he was surprised to find that all the animals started to run for their lives. Actually, the animals ran from the Tiger instead of the Fox, but the Tiger did not know that. The Tiger apologized to the Fox and let him go free.

THE TOUCH OF THE MASTER'S HAND

'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer

Thought it scarcely worth his while

To waste much time on the old violin,

But held it up with a smile.

'What am I bidden, good folks,' he cried

'Who'll start the bidding for me?'

'A dollar, a dollar,' then two! Only two?

'Two dollars, and who'll make it three?

'Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;

Going for three....' But no,

From the room, far back, a gray-haired man

Came forward and picked up the bow;

Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,

And tightening the loose strings,

He played a melody pure and sweet

As a caroling angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer,

With a voice that was quiet and low,

Said: 'What am I bid for the old violin?'

And he held it up with the bow.

'A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?

Two thousand! And who'll make it three?

Three thousand, once; three thousand twice;

And going and gone,' said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,

'We do not quiet understand

What changed it's worth?

Swift came the reply:

'The touch of a master's hand.'

And many a man with life out of tune,

And battered and scarred with sin,

Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,

Much like the old violin.

A 'mess of potage,' a glass of wine.

A game - and he travels on.

And he's 'going' once, and 'going' twice,

He's 'going' and almost 'gone.'

But the Master comes and the foolish crowd

Never can quite understand

The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought

By the touch of a Master's hand

Look, it cannot be seen - it is beyond form.
Listen, it cannot be heard - it is beyond sound.
Grasp, it cannot be held - it is intangible.
These three are indefinable, they are one.

"Quit! Give up! You're beaten!"

They shout at me and plead

"There's just too much against you now,

This time you can't succeed!"

And as I start to hang my head

In front of failure's face,

My downward fall is broken by

The memory of a race.

And hope refills my weakened will

As I recall that scene;

For just the thought of that short race

Rejuvenates my being.

A childrens race-young boys, young men

How I remember well.

Excitement sure! But also fear

It wasn't hard to tell

Their fathers watched from off the side

Each cheering for his son.

And each boy hoped to show his dad

That he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they went!

Young hearts and hopes afire

To win and be the hero there

Was each young boy's desire.

And one in particular

Whose dad was in the crowd

Was running near the lead and thought,

"My dad will be so proud"

But as he speeded down the field

Across a shallow dip,

The little boy who thought to win

Lost his step and slipped.

Trying hard to catch himself

His hands flew out to brace,

And mid the laughter of the crowd

He fell flat on his face.

So down he fell and with him hope

-He couldn't win it now-

Embarrassed, sad, he only wished

To disappear somehow.

But as he fell, his dad stood up

And showed his anxious face,

Which to the boy clearly said:

"Get up and win the race"

He quickly rose, no damage done

-Behind a bit, that's all-

And ran with all his mind and might

To make up for his fall

So anxious to restore himself

His mind went faster than his legs;

He slipped and fell again!

He wished then he had quit before

With only one disgrace.

"I'm hopeless as a runner now;

I shouldn't try to race"

But in the laughing crowd he searched

And found his father's face;

That steady look which said again:

"Get up and win the race!"

So he jumped up to try again

-Ten yards behind the last -

"If I'm to gain those yards," he thought,

"I've got to run real fast."

Exerting everything he had

He gained eight or ten,

But trying so hard to catch the lead

He slipped and fell again!

Defeat! He lied there silently

-A tear dropped from his eye-

"There's no sense running any more:

Three strikes: I'm out! Why try?"

"Get up," an echo sounded low.

"Get up and take your place;

You were not meant for failure here.

Get up and win the race."

"With borrowed will get up" it said

"You haven't lost at all.

For winning is no more than this:

To rise each time you fall."

So up he rose to run once more,

And with a new commit

He resolved that win or lose

At least he wouldn't quit.

And when the fallen youngster

Crossed the line last place.

The crowd gave him the greater cheer,

For finishing the race.

And even though he came in last

With head bowed low, unproud,

You would have thought he'd won the race

To listen to the crowd.

And to his dad he sadly said,

"I didn't do to well."

"To me, you won," his father said.

"You rose each time you fell."

And when things seem dark and hard

And difficult to face,

The memory of that little boy

Helps me in my race.

For all of life is like that race.

With ups and downs and all.

And all you have to do to win,

Is rise each time you fall.

"Quit! Give up, you're beaten!"

They still shout in my face.

But another voice within me says:

"GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!"

If hard like dead wood, wind blows, you break. If soft like grass, wind blows, you bent. If like bamboo, bend and spring back. This is the way of Yin and Yang. - The Immortal Taoist.

Remember that the wind will always blow just as circumstances will always exist. Good and bad times are ahead there is nothing you can do about that. Because that is the future, and that future depends on countless variables, too many for us to try and control. But the one thing we can control is how we respond and react to any given situation, circumstance or occurence. Clarity of mind and acceptance ensure that our actions will be pure and instant, sure and just, absolute and true. This is what is known as truthful living.

- Vijay Singh Sodhi

I present to you..., Learned Mo Uddin, QC