[singlepic id=6 w=320 h=240 float=left]Artist: Adam Scott Miller
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Contact: www.AdamScottMiller.com
FEATURE ARTICLE
The Cash You Need Is Forgiveness
It was the day before Christmas and the troubled seeker had not yet bought her partner a gift. And so she took to the shops to get her beloved a gift. She knew what she wanted to give him – a drum. When she got to the shop it was closed and would be for another hour. So she decided to go for a walk to the bank. She needed money after all.
As she walked down the street, she enjoyed the sights around her – friendly nods and smiles to passers-by, music being played in the street. And then she saw a slumped figure sitting on the sidewalk – a man sitting alone with his head down. As she walked by she noticed a hat out with a few coins in it and a sign asking for some money so that he might have a bed for the night. She was inspired to add a few coins to his small collection as she passed but in that instant decided it wasn’t enough. She was on her way to the bank and could give a little more than that when she passed back this way.
She decided to give the man $20, which to some might be a small amount but as she did not have a lot of money, it was quite substantial. She put it in her pocket and made her way back to the man slumped on the sidewalk. He did not move as she approached. With his head down, he made no contact with anyone, watching only the concrete pavement. Sensing a feeling of shame around him, she knelt down beside him. “Why do you sit with your head down?” she asked.
He raised his eyes to look at her and said, “I don’t want to confront anybody. If I sit here and look at people it’s too confrontational for them.”
Yes, she thought as she looked into his eyes, how sad that it is too confrontational for society to look into the eyes of what it has created.
The wind blew and she caught the smell of alcohol on him. The smell of alcohol immediately triggered a stream of negative thoughts… ‘Oh he’s an alcoholic, I shouldn’t give him the money, he’ll just buy more to drink with it.’ It stirred up feelings she had towards her father, ‘Perhaps he too had abandoned his children because of the power of the drink.’ The money remained in her pocket.
She talked with him a little more to investigate his worthiness in relation to these thoughts and all she uncovered was more of them. She discovered that he was not allowed to go back to the place where he was living because of a Domestic Violence Order against him. ‘Oh, he’s a wife beater too,’ she thought, just like the second father figure she had in her life. The money remained in her pocket.
This man started to represent all things she hated about men. As she looked at him it was almost as if he were shape-shifting, all the faces, of all the men that had abused her, flashing through him. There they were sitting right in front of her, and not only all of the men who had hurt her, but her family and friends too. She had thought about this before – what would she say or do if she saw these people again? She felt the anger, the disappointment, the pain that she had held onto.
Just then another gentle breeze touched her skin and with it compassion blossomed in her heart and the scent of forgiveness filled the air. She reached into her pocket and gave him the $20.As she walked away she realised the gift he had given her. She had only given $20 but it freed her from hatred, from the suffering of her past.
Renee Cashman
REGULAR ARTICLE
Siddha Stories – The King Who Had Everything
Once upon a time there was a King of Hindustan who was both happy and beloved of his people. He was handsome and well skilled in all the arts; his palace gardens were beautiful and full of roses; the horses in the royal stables were the finest in the land; his treasury was full of jewels and gold. He had everything.
His father, when he was about to die, had said, “My son, soon you shall be King, so let me give you something that is a great heirloom in our family. Read it and you will learn much.” And he had handed the young Prince a very old book written by hand, with letters illuminated in gold – and then he had died.
But though he often meant to read the book, the new King never got the opportunity. The Viziers of the court made him appear at one great feast after the other, then came his coronation, which lasted many days, and after that there was his wedding to the Princess Fatima, and yet more feasting. Then there were hunting parties and visits to the boundaries of his dominions – there never seemed to be any time to read.
It was only when his own son was seventeen years old that the King realised he had not yet read the ancient book. He had everything – rich and powerful neighbours who were friendly, jewels and treasure in his vaults – and yet he had no time to read. One afternoon he decided that he must obey his father’s last wish. He was just going to his private study when the Chief Vizier came and bowed low before him.
“Oh, glorious King,” said the Vizier, “see these beautiful opals, which have been sent as present by the Emir of…..”
“I’m going to read,” said the King, frowning.
“Read, your majesty? Read?” said the Vizier. “Have I not this day chosen two new storytellers for your Majesty’s pleasure?”
“See this wonderful velvet for the new state robes,” chimed in the royal robe-maker, pushing his way to the front. “The Queen and the Princesses have been delighted with the colours.”
The King said more firmly, “I wish to read and I do not want to be disturbed.”
In his study, he opened the secret drawer in which the manuscript lay wrapped in a piece of silk. He began to read the book. The first page had the following words upon it. ‘He who has everything, sometimes has nothing.’ The King read on. After an hour, he wrapped the book up again in the green silk and made his way to the harem.
“My Queen,” he said to the royal lady, “give me leave to speak without comment for the next few minutes.” The Queen bowed her head. “I shall have to go away,” said he, “for though I am King of all Hindustan I am not a wise enough man. I am seeking knowledge that I shall never find here surrounded by all this luxury. I am going on a journey. If I find what will satisfy me, I shall return. If I do not, you must not grieve, I beg you. Put our eldest son on the throne and guide him yourself.” Then he dressed himself in a robe such as travelling dervishes or holy men wear and he set off with a staff and a few coins in his pocket. The ancient book, wrapped in green silk, was under his arm.
Years passed and, when it seemed that the King was not returning, the young Prince was put upon the throne. One day, an old traveller in a simple robe such as dervishes wear was washing his hands at the fountain of the Friday Mosque and said to a townsman, “What sort of man is the King?”
“Why, his Majesty is the most handsome and cultivated person in the whole of our land,” was the reply. “His treasure house is full of wonders, his horses are magnificent, the roses of the royal garden are world famous. He has everything.”
“Then,” said the traveller, “I charge you to give him this. It is a valuable book, which I have had in trust for him for many years. Give it to him and here is a coin for your trouble.”
The townsman agreed, and the old man made his way out of the gate on the back of the last donkey in a departing caravan. At the palace, having gained the royal presence, the honest townsman placed at the feet of the young King a small book wrapped in faded green silk. It began, “He who has everything, sometimes has nothing.”
The Universal Storyteller