A Story of love and learning

Here is a story, created this moment, just for you. It happens to be about a little girl. She could have been anyone’s child. She could have been you.

A BOUQUET OF LOVE

One bright sunny day, this little girl was picking wild flowers in a meadow. Feeling like she was the warmth of the sun, she gathered her bouquet of purple and gold brightness and ran to her father, offering him this bundle of spontaneous love. Her father saw only miserable weeds that set off his miserable hay fever. He shouted at her to get them out of the house, asking how could she be such a stupid little girl, and where was her consideration?

The little girl did not know what consideration was, so she had no idea where hers could be, and she was afraid to ask. She was sure that if she had any, she would not be stupid. She ran outside, no longer feeling like she was the warm yellow sun. Her brightness faded, she sat under a tree with her flowers, consoling them, assuring them they were in no way stupid, or else how could they be so beautiful? Then she planted each one in the earth again, telling them she was sorry she had taken them from their homes, and promised never to do so again. 

The little girl pondered this event as the years passed and somewhere in the angels’ singing, since angels are always singing to little girls and big girls and people of all ages, she heard a song of wisdom: You are not the doer. The fruits of your actions belong not to you, but to God. And the little girl, who by now lived in a bigger body, hugged that song to her, and it comforted her way back to the time when her father had shouted at her and into the future when her own and other people's songs would be shouts.

As the years passed, she learned from these shouts. Sometimes people shouted loudly, sometimes silently. Deep within the angels’ whispers, she discovered that all shouts came from fear and ignorance. People were afraid to feel, so they shouted. People were afraid to tell the truth, so they shouted. People were afraid to love and be loved, so they shouted. People were afraid, so they hid behind shouts that were loud and shouts that were silent, wearing the disguises that pass for love, life, and intimacy. 

Time passed, as time has a way of doing, teaching what it teaches to those able to listen with their hearts. Time taught her to sing gentle songs, giving them away like candy. Once they were gone from her, she never looked back, knowing that gifts with strings attached were no gifts at all. 

One day, when the little girl lived in a body with skin that showed the passage of many lessons learned, she found she had become the bouquet of flowers. And people came from everywhere to catch the scent of her love. 

The angels will leave you to gather your own bouquet from this story, the way the little girl did. The joy of stories comes from listening with your heart. In this way, the story awakens the truth that lives inside you and that truth becomes your own. 

Gutenberg Press

Have you heard of the Gutenberg Press? The name comes from Johannes Gutenberg, a German scholar who invented the Gutenberg printing press in 1448. That’s quite a contribution to the world of writing and reading.

 (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johannes_Gutenberg). 

He was born in Mainz, a city I have often visited when in Germany. I once visited the Gutenberg Press in Mainz, which I liked so much, since I love books and writing. 

The reason I bring it up is because I want to tell you about Project Gutenberg—an online library which offers over 70,000 free eBooks. I download a book I want to read, then copy and paste it into my apple pages and change it to a font that is easy for me to read. They even have books in languages besides English, for example, Siddartha in German: 

https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/2499/pg2499.html.

You may find something you'd like to read on the site. It's a gift to have so many free books at your fingertips.

https://www.gutenberg.org/

A Grandmother Story

This event, which is now a story, really happened. You can decide for yourself if it is true. There are only two characters in this story. One of them happens to be a Wise Woman, although no one ever thought of her in this way when she was alive. 

There was this very old grandmother who was on her deathbed. Before she died, she called one of her granddaughters to her. She had thirteen grandchildren but she only called this one. The grandmother had been an ordinary grandmother, or so the granddaughter thought. The grandmother looked into her granddaughter’s cool green eyes with her own eyes which burned like fire in her shriveled face and whispered to her, “Little girl, I want to tell you three things.” 

The granddaughter, who was around twenty at the time, nodded respectfully, and leaned forward to listen. This is what the grandmother told her, “All there is IS. The will of God is all there is. You do not exist.”

The angels will leave you these words to ponder, the way the wise grandmother left them for her granddaughter to ponder through the years when the grandmother would no longer be walking upon the face of the earth.

The Secret of Life

Life is just a bowl of cherries.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h9kAd8Mygpw

This guy was looking for the secret of life. He had been looking for the secret of life for fifteen or twenty years. His search finally led him to India. He traveled all around India, asking everyone he met for the secret of life. 

Finally, he was directed to the Himalayas where he spent another year or so, climbing and searching and asking his question. Everywhere he went, no one knew the answer. Then he began to hear rumblings about an ancient teacher, who was rumored to know the secret of life.

One day, after a grueling climb, he reached the mouth of a small cave and—lo and behold! There sat the very man he had heard about!  

The old sage fixed him with a piercing gaze, and said, “Ah, you have come at last, my son. What can I do for you?”  

The guy felt so elated! He knew he had found the guru who was going to give him the answer he had been seeking for so long. So he asked him the question he had been asking everyone, “What is the secret of life?” 

The wise all-knowing guru squinted his eyes, and the guy was sure he saw a spark of light emanate from them. He waited with bated breath—at last the secret would be his!

The guru stretched, gave a big yawn, and then relaxed with a long sigh. A serene smile danced across his face and his eyes twinkled as he replied, “Life is just a bowl of cherries.” 

The seeker gasped, “What! I’ve been traveling for twenty-five years all over the world, seeking the meaning of life. I climbed all the way up this mountain just to find you, and you tell me life is just a bowl of cherries!” 

The ancient sage blinked his eyes, “You mean, it isn’t?”

GUARDIAN ANGEL STORY

MIRROR 

The angel paused a moment before holding up the mirror of her beauty before the lonely man standing at the edge of the bridge, teetering on the brink of jumping into the dark cold water. He shivered and thought of nothing. His thoughts had congealed into a dark mass like clotted blood in the bottom of his belly.

The angel moved closer until she was only a breath away and looked intently into his eyes.

He never saw the angel.

The angel began to sing, a song without words.

He never heard the angel's song.

The angel let the flame of its beauty burn brighter.

He took a step forward, his foot finding nothing but air. One more step and he would be free falling. One more step. Free falling from the pain of living. Free. The final fall. He stretched both arms into the cold dark air and stood on one foot, willing himself to lift that foot too. He closed his eyes and imagined himself sailing off the bridge, through the icy air, into the icy water.

The angel touched his face gently and thought of butterflies.

And the man felt a softness in his belly, tiny dots of softness, a sensation like cocoons hatching.

He never saw the angel.

He saw butterflies. Butterflies of light. Golden light. Flying from the center of his being, flying free into the night. Free flying.  

He paused, balanced on one foot, his arms spread wide, and watched the butterflies fly golden into the sky. His other foot made its way back onto the bridge. Golden light suffused and surrounded him. He turned in a circle looking at it and when he stopped, the light was gone, and there was only him and the cold dark night. He closed his eyes and held the memory in his heart. Then he walked back to his car to drive back to the world he had sought to leave.

He never saw the angel.

The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

It's madness

to hate all roses

because you got scratched with one thorn,

to give up all dreams

because one of them didn't come true,

to give up all attempts

because one of them failed.

It's folly to condemn all your friends

because one has betrayed you,

to no longer believe in love

just because someone was unfaithful

or didn't love you back,

to throw away all your chances to be happy

because something went wrong.

There will always be another opportunity,

another friend,

another love,

a new strength.

For every end,

there is always a new beginning.....

And now here is my secret,

a very simple secret:

It is only with the heart

that one can see rightly;

what is essential is invisible to the eye.

A Little Story

Here is a story just for you. It happens to be about a little girl. She could have been anyone’s child. She could have been you.

A BOUQUET OF LOVE

One bright sunny day, this little girl was picking wild flowers in a meadow. Feeling like she was the warmth of the sun, she gathered her bouquet of purple and gold brightness and ran to her father, offering him this bundle of spontaneous love. Her father saw only miserable weeds that set off his miserable hay fever. He shouted at her to get them out of the house, asking how could she be such a stupid little girl, and where was her consideration?

The little girl did not know what consideration was, so she had no idea where hers could be, and she was afraid to ask. She was sure that if she had any, she would not be stupid. She ran outside, no longer feeling like she was the warm yellow sun. Her brightness faded, she sat under a tree with her flowers, consoling them, assuring them they were in no way stupid, or else how could they be so beautiful? Then she planted each one in the earth again, telling them she was sorry she had taken them from their homes, and promised never to do so again. 

The little girl pondered this event as the years passed and somewhere in the angels’ singing, since angels are always singing to little girls and big girls and people of all ages, she heard a song of wisdom: You are not the doer. The fruits of your actions belong not to you, but to God. And the little girl, who by now lived in a bigger body, hugged that song to her, and it comforted her way back to the time when her father had shouted at her and into the future when her own and other people's songs would be shouts.

As the years passed, she learned from these shouts. Sometimes people shouted loudly, sometimes silently. Deep within the angels’ whispers, she discovered that all shouts come from fear and ignorance. People were afraid to feel, so they shouted. People were afraid to tell the truth, so they shouted. People were afraid to love and be loved, so they shouted. People were afraid, so they hid behind shouts that were loud and shouts that were silent, wearing the disguises that pass for love and intimacy. 

Time passed, as time has a way of doing, teaching what it teaches to those able to listen with their hearts. Time taught her to sing gentle songs, giving them away like candy. Once they were gone from her, she never looked back, knowing that gifts with strings attached were no gifts at all. 

One day, when the little girl lived in a body with skin that showed the passage of many lessons learned, she found she had become the bouquet of flowers. And people came from everywhere to catch the scent of her love. 

The angels will leave you to gather your own bouquet from this story, the way the little girl did. The joy of stories comes from listening with your heart. In this way, the story awakens the truth that lives inside you and that truth becomes your own. 

Be kind, gentle, and compassionate with yourself. Give to yourself that which you wish others would give to you. Remember that others are only mirrors, reflections of yourself. When you treat yourself with respect, you will see this reflected in beautiful shining mirrors all around you. 

Lin Chi, Zen Master Story

One of the greatest of Zen masters, Lin Chi, used to say, ”While I was young I was very fascinated by boating. I had one small boat, and I would go on the lake alone. For hours together I would remain there.

”Once it happened that with closed eyes I was in my boat meditating on the beautiful night. One empty boat came floating downstream and struck my boat. My eyes were closed, so I thought, ‘Someone is here with his boat, and he has struck my boat.’ 

"Anger arose. I opened my eyes and I was just going to say something to that man in anger, then I realized that the boat was empty. Then there was no way to move. To whom could I express the anger? The boat was empty. It was just floating downstream, and it had come and struck my boat. So there was nothing to do. There was no possibility to project the anger on an empty boat.”

So Lin Chi said, ”I closed my eyes. The anger was there, but finding no way out, I closed my eyes and just floated backward with the anger. And that empty boat became my realization. I came to a point within myself in that silent night. 

"That empty boat was my master. And now if someone comes and insults me, I laugh and I say, ‘This boat is also empty.’ I close my eyes and I go within.”

A Story from Monthly School Lesson "TOGETHER AS ONE"

THE LITTLE BROWN BIRD

Once upon a time there was a tiny brown bird hopping around in Mother Nature, eating little seeds and ruffling its feathers in the wind. And it was happy. 

It watched the grey bunnies, the striped chipmunks, fat earthworms, and bustling black beetles that were part of its world. And it was happy.

It listened to the birds singing, the leaves rustling in the wind, the squirrels chattering. And it was happy. 

One day, it heard a strange new sound and it looked all around with its tiny black eyes. What was that sound? Then the little bird saw it—a huge bird blazing with blue, turquoise, violet, green, and golden feathers with many eyes shining from its long tail. 

"What are you?" asked the little bird from its perch high above. 

"I am a peacock," the colorful bird replied. 

From that moment on, the little bird knew no peace, even though it lived in the center of beautiful Mother Nature, even though it was never hungry, even though the soft wind still blew and ruffled its tiny brown feathers. 

Finally, in despair, it went to Mother Nature and said, "Oh, Mother Nature, why did you make me so brown and small and ugly? Why can I not shine like the blazing peacock? Why do I not have many eyes glowing from a long feathery tail? Why must I be so unhappy?"

"Your unhappiness has nothing to do with the peacock, little brown bird," replied Mother Nature. "Do not act like a silly human being. You are unhappy only because you compare yourself. Stop comparing and your unhappiness will end. Be yourself. Be happy being you."

And the little bird listened very carefully with its little bird ears and opened its heart very wide so it could catch every word deep inside. 

And it went back to eating little seeds and ruffling its feathers in the wind. And it was happy. 

Thank you for being there so that I can be here.

Love now and always,

Indira & the angels

A GUARDIAN ANGEL STORY

THE GUARDIAN ANGEL

The angel had been bound to earth for hundreds of years, yet the angel lived in patience where time did not exist. For eons the angel had been speaking to humans, whispering words of love and encouragement into their ears. Most of the time, no one heard, though now and then, the angel saw in someone's eyes a glimmer of understanding.

    This angel was presently guarding a small child, whose skin was white as snow, though it was no fairy tale, for the child had been sick with some earthly disease for a long time. The child lay in a bed, blending into white sheets, surrounded by family members who were trying not to cry. And the child, who knew what courage was, whispered, “It is okay to cry because I am going away.”

    And the angel smiled and wrapped its love around the boy and touched the hearts of his parents, grandparents, and little brothers. As the angel touched their hearts, it knew the anguish in those hearts. The angel could have moved away, spared itself this pain, but it only moved closer, giving of its strength. The child's father forgot not to cry. Tears fell down his unshaven face. 

    The little boy wanted to reach up and touch that face one last time, but he had no strength. Sensing this, the unseen angel helped the boy raise his arm. As the child touched his father's scratchy wet face one last time, father and son felt a great peace, for the truth of tears is better than the pretense of smiles.

    Then the mother cradled her child in her arms. The grandparents cradled their own children, this mother and father. And the angel of God bound them all together with its love and spoke to the child, saying, “It is time.” The child heard a voice like bells and looked upon the face of the angel for the first time. The family could not see the angel, but they saw the years of pain and fighting the disease fade away as the child's face began to glow.

    “I will show you,” smiled the angel, forgetting everything now except the child. “Look!” The angel pointed to the light. Seeing the Light, the boy breathed a last sigh and closed his eyes in peace. 

    The angel departed with the soul essence of the child, guiding him to the Light. And the family was not alone. The room was alive with angels, embracing the family, whispering words of love, holding the sorrow, taking what pain they could unto themselves.

    As the angel guided the child to the Light, the angel felt the power of the Light, and longed to return to the Light, but its task was upon earth. The angel did not linger in pain or longing. It lovingly watched the boy merge into the Light, then turned and made its way back to earth.

    The angel did not stop to ask why, did not hesitate, did not question the way of the world or of God. It simply went on to its next task. It was just in time to catch a young teenager as she fell from a speeding car whose door had become unlatched.

    The girl would later tell a wondrous story of a being of light that caught her in its arms, saving her from the hard pavement of the road. And the angel was already gone, onto its next task, fully present in the moment.

    This story came to me in its entirety following the death of my young nephew, Sean, from leukemia. I was on tour in Europe at the time. When I received word that he had died, I sat down and wrote this story. It was a gift I received at his passing into another realm. When I returned home, I was told that although his father, my brother, was unable to make it to the hospital before Sean died, the nurses insisted, “But we saw you there, holding your son's hand and talking with him.”

A Grandfather Tree spoke to me...

While in the mountains, I once met an ancient and gnarled Grandfather tree. We spoke a long time, often in whispers, so no one else could hear. He told me tales of wisdom. He said many trees are dying now, their roots are not deep enough to reach water because the earth has grown hotter. His roots are so deep, he can always drink, so he sends healing energy to the earth and other trees, but he cannot save them all. I thanked him and promised I will not forget him and that his stories will continue to grow within me

THE LOST FAIRY

Do you remember the story of The Lost Fairy that I sent as one of your daily messages? I invited you to create your own ending to the story. Our California classmate Debra R. did just that. Thanks, Debra. I liked reading your ending. It's nice to see that we can have different endings for the same story. Just like in real life. Here is the story I sent, with Debra's ending below.

THE LOST FAIRY

I should have known she was only pretending to be lost. How can a fairy ever be lost? No matter what a fairy tells you, no matter how contrary a fairy acts—and fairies can act very contrary—all fairies belong to the kingdom of angels. So just as an angel can never be lost, neither can a fairy. 

Still, on this particular day, this particular fairy did her best to convince me that she was lost. She sighed and let her big green eyes look very sad. She sat down on a coppery-colored mushroom in the middle of a fairy ring and pouted. She flew around in circles like she had no idea which way to go. 

Finally, she insisted that she just had to sit on my shoulder so she could have a good look around and find out where she was. 

"You are right where you are," I told her. 

She scowled. 

"You've got wings. Fly high.”

She scowled again and told me she was tired and too full of taffy to fly except in circles and circles never got her anywhere. 

“Taffy? When were you eating taffy?" 

She told me it was none of my business. 

I rolled my eyes to the heavens. Who can argue with a fairy, especially a lost one? I picked her up, put her on my shoulder, and started my walk through the jungly trees, my little dog at my side. I must have walked about a mile with the little fairy happily buzzing, humming, and chattering in my ear.

Want to hear the rest of this story? So do I, but I ran out of words. You are welcome to write your own ending, so long as it’s happy. Fairies only like happy endings. Please feel free to send me your endings. or post them here. One day, perhaps, I will post mine -- or not. Hugs & Kisses, Indira

Debra wrote:
 Indira, I had such fun with this!

Fairy 🧚‍♂️ lost story 

Feeling quietly invigorated, it was time for me to go home as well. I said to the fairy, “Have you found home?”

She began to snicker and giggle, as only fairies can do. "Silly, I am home wherever I am in this beautiful 🌳 forest."

A lesson for you to walk with ease and find your peace as we stroll along. Hand in hand or wing to wing!

"But I do have a house, can you find the door? Look high and low for my humble abode, decorated with moss, a toad stool...a whisper of a feather. A place to hide, a place to sleep, a riddle is yours to keep. And Taffy is my name."

A story

According to a 19th century legend, the Truth and the Lie meet one day. The Lie says to the Truth:

Painting by Jean-Leon Jerome, 1896.

"It's a wonderful day today!" Truth looks up to the sky to find out for herself, and nods. The day really was nice. Truth and Lie  walk together and come to a well. Lie says, "How lovely the water is. Let's bathe together."

Truth tests the water and agrees it is the perfect temperature. So they undress and jump in. As they are bathing, Lie sneaks out of the water, dons the clothing of Truth, and runs quickly away.

Truth jumps out and chases him, so she can get her clothes back, but she can't find Lie. The world, seeing Truth naked, turns its eyes away in shame and contempt.

Truth returns to the lake and disappears there, hiding her nakedness. Since that time, Lie moves through the world dressed as Truth, satisfying the desires of society, because the World that man has created has no wish to meet the naked Truth.

The Secret of the Crystal Mountains

Just sharing with you that I've written a lovely children's story (for children of any age). I wrote it awhile back, and have recently pulled it out of my computer. I may do some illustrations for it. Haven't decided if I'll seek a regular publisher or publish it on my own somehow. It is full of spiritual insights and guidance, perfect for children who are so inundated with the thoughts and beliefs of the ordinary world.

This is a story about a zebra named Wind who dares to leave her tribe, the Zolites, and venture into the Dark Jungle, in search of adventure. She is tired of living by The list of Warnings, Rules, Beliefs, and Regulations Regarding Zolite Behavior that all Zolites must obey. She wants to find out for herself what is true. On her journey, she is attacked by a lion, saved by a Unicorn named Shalimar, and begins to learn about traveling the path that Unicorns travel, which is the way of the Heart. She thinks she can travel it with her feet, because she is the fastest zebra in Africa, but  soon learns that this path cannot be traveled in her ordinary way.

The Locked Door

Dearest Classmates & Students, the other day I was knocking on the door of someone who was supposed to be home. The doorbell wasn't working. There was lots of snow and I was standing in it, since the walk was not shoveled. I knocked and knocked. After awhile, I could feel impatience arising within me. I knocked harder. No answer. I called out. No answer. Now, there was a very very ill person inside (my sister-in-law) with her seventeen year old daughter and autistic son, so I was concerned. My imagination was telling me stories about what might be happening inside. I could feel anger arising when I thought the daughter (my niece) just wasn't answering the door. I called her cell phone. No answer. More anger arose. Finally, I left.

Dragonfly Legend

The Legend of the Dreamcatcher

"A spider was quietly spinning her web in her own space, beside the sleeping space of Nokomis, the grandmother. Each day, Nokomis watched the spider at work, quietly spinning away.  One day as she was watching, her grandson came in.  "Nokomis-iya!" he shouted, glancing at the spider. He stomped over to the spider, picked up a shoe, and went to hit it.