[A Return to Innocence]
[Underneath the Banyan Tree]
[The Secret]
[The Favourite Student]
[The Beggar Man]
[The Wishing Game]
[The Heart of a Child]

A Return to Innocence
By Sameer Grover

“I remember my youth and the feeling that will never come back any more- the feeling that I could last forever, outlast the sea, the earth, and all men; the deceitful feeling that lures us on to joys, to perils, to love, to vain effort- to death;”
-Joseph Conrad

All things come to pass. The nature of existence is impermanence. It is only a matter of time before the sea of change washes away all that we hold precious and dear. I remember when I first experienced this realization for myself, the realization that every soul must come to at some time or another, each in its own way, each different and unique.

The flowers of my youth grew and blossomed in rich, fertile soil. My family lived in a modest home in a middle class neighbourhood. Although we were not a religious family, my younger brother and I were raised with an exceptionally strong sense of morality; the importance of which I would not understand until much later in life. I am fully convinced that it was this higher morality that lent such a timeless and eternal nature to our household during those early years.

My tale begins when I was a shade over ten years of age. It was the middle of winter and a gentle snowfall was descending from the heavens, the romantic kind usually reserved for postcards. My friend Neil Charlton and I were walking home from school. Neil reached into his pocket and handed me a piece of Hubba Bubba; in those days Hubba Bubba was the Rolls Royce of chewing gums. I will never forget what he said next, after I had popped the piece in my mouth, Neil quickly glanced over his shoulder then spoke in a hushed manner, “Guess what? I stoled this pack of gum.” A sense of shock and revulsion came over me. I had a strong urge to spit the gum onto the concrete then and there. Neil had stolen the gum! At first I didn’t say anything. The firm sense of morality that had been embedded in me was so overwhelming that I could no longer even look at my friend. I was ashamed of myself for being friends with such a heathen. I was in a state of distress. I was the friend of a criminal, of a thief, of a depraved soul who would surely go to hell or be reborn as a chimpanzee or a hyena or something of the sort. I went home that day in a silent and withdrawn mood, unable to eat dinner or even play with my brother. I told my parents that I didn’t feel well and went straight to my room and lay down in my bed.

As I lay in bed a sense of bewilderment came over me. Gradually my sense of shame and revulsion towards Neil was replaced by a feeling somewhat akin to awe. He had gone straight into the store and stolen a pack of gum. He had come out with a pack of Hubba Bubba for nothing, he spent nothing, paid nothing. He had gotten the gum for free. He had done so because he willed it so. As I became more and more drowsy this feeling grew in intensity and slowly but surely replaced my initial feelings of disgust.

About a week went by, the whole time I couldn’t get Neil out of my mind. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him at school. He walked around with a secretive smile on his face. He gave chocolate bars and packs of gum to the other children. He drew smiles from all of the girls and had the respect of the boys. He was a hero, a champion of schoolchildren everywhere. He was Robin Hood he stole from the rich and gave to the poor.

There is one day in particular that stands out in my mind and that I will likely never forget. In those days I, like every other boy in grade five (well those who had grown out of the ‘cooties’ phase anyway), had the biggest crush on Samantha Lawrence. She was the prettiest girl in the entire school and the object of nearly all of my boyhood affections. I was waiting outside the cloakroom for Neil so that we could walk home together while Neil was talking to a smiling Samantha. As he was leaving Samantha reached over and gave Neil a long kiss on the cheek, her mouth very close to his. My heart fell out of my chest. My entire being was so enveloped in jealousy that I could not say a word to Neil as we walked home. I wanted to walk around with that smile that Neil had, that secretive look that would make all of the other children watch in wonder and curiosity, I wanted to be the Robin Hood of grade five, I wanted Samantha to kiss me, in short I wanted to be Neil. As we were walking home Neil ducked into one of the small alleyways that ran in between the streets in our neighbourhood. He kept walking without saying a word and I followed somewhat hesitantly. My parents strictly forbade me from walking through the alleys. If they ever found out I would be in a great deal of trouble. But to show cowardice in front of Neil and his caution to the wind attitude was not an option, it was absolutely not going to happen, so we kept walking. About halfway down the alley Neil stopped, pulled off his backpack, and set it on the ground. He opened it up, reached in and offered a Twix bar to me, as he was so doing I glanced into his open bag. There were about a dozen chocolate bars and another half a dozen packs of gum in there. I couldn’t believe my eyes this was the largest single bounty that I had ever seen. I was dumbfounded, “Did you…did you…did you steal all of that?” I managed to blurt out in a shy and embarrassed tone.

“Well yeah, you make it seem as if I did something bad, I mean the store has so many chocolate bars and packs of gum it’s not like they need all of them. So I took a few…” Neil spoke with an air of grandeur and nonchalance as he said this. More than his words it is the manner in which he spoke, his demeanour, that stays with me to this very day. That evening I went home in a jovial mood and fell asleep swiftly and easily. I knew with sound resolution what I was going to do the next morning.

The morning was cold. I walked into the 7-11 around eight thirty, half an hour before school started. There were two or three other customers in the store when I entered. An over-weight, middle-aged woman was working behind the cash register. I was nervous so I walked over to the comic book section and began to look through the comics, Batman, Superman, Spiderman, Wonder Woman, The Green Hornet…my mind was elsewhere, it was on the task at hand, and my heart was racing at a million beats per second. I took several deep breaths to calm my nerves then slowly but surely I sauntered over to the candy aisle. The cashier was reading a magazine and paying me absolutely no attention. I examined the different selections pretending to be pondering my choices. I could have bought whatever I was going to steal, my parents gave me a healthy allowance and I never really spent it on anything except for the odd pack of baseball cards or comic book. I had the money but no, today was different. Today I wasn’t going to buy anything. I knew what I was going to do and I was acting like someone who was resisting a fate that had been written long ago. I knew that there was no going back. I glanced one last time at the lady behind the counter; she was completely pre-occupied with her magazine. I went straight for the Hubba Bubba, I reached my hand into the box of gums and I grabbed one pack of cherry flavoured Hubba Bubba sliding it inside the sleeve of my coat. Immediately after doing so I felt like taking to my heels and running, I felt like running out of the store and crying, screaming and crying. What was I doing? For a brief moment I contemplated taking the gum out of my sleeve and putting it back in the box. Instead, I just walked back through the aisle with as much calm as I could muster then headed straight for the door. The cashier looked at me, her gaze catching mine for a moment that lasted a lifetime. She knew that I was a thief, she saw me slide the gum into my sleeve, and she knew that I was guilty. However, she simply smiled and told me to have a nice day. I did not say a word. I did not even smile. I walked straight out of the store with a horror stricken look on my face.

I reached the schoolyard and popped that first piece of tainted gum into my mouth. Every single chew was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of guilt and shame. I, myself, was now a depraved soul. I had dishonoured Father and Mother and everything they stood for. I had broken the code of morality that governed our household. I no longer belonged to the same bright and happy world as my parents and brother. I no longer belonged to the world of righteousness and morality, purity and innocence. No, I now belonged to a much darker world, a world of thieves and criminals. However, somewhere inside of me there was a pleasurable sensation that accompanied my guilt and shame. It was a sense of victory, a sense of superiority. In some strange way I now felt superior to my parents and their world. I had become deluded by a fleeting sense of pride.

Amidst these conflicting emotions arose a snowballing fear, a sense of impending doom. Surely my parents would be able to read the guilty expression on my face. Surely they would know that I was a criminal. Surely my teachers would know, the other children at school would know, Neil would know, surely everyone would know. The principal would call me to his office and tell me that I was expelled. Then my parents would send me to the military. I was doomed. Surely I was doomed, my face would be in all of the papers. ‘Ten-year old thief sent to boot camp.’ Yet nothing of the sort happened life carried on in pretty much the same way as it always had.

I was now, however, accompanied by a guilty conscience everywhere I went. When I walked to school it was there walking by my side, when I sat at the dinner table it was there sitting next to me, when I went to bed it was there. I couldn’t sleep at night. I had no emotions left, I had no desire to talk to anybody or do anything. I just wanted to die then and there. I was waiting for the angel of death. The sooner the better, my appointment book was ready. Somewhere deep down, somewhere within the very depths of my being, I knew that I would get over this feeling of guilt and shame. I knew that I would repent and be forgiven. I knew that I would forgive myself for ultimately that was the only forgiveness that mattered. When my own conscience was appeased and had come to terms with my actions I knew that I would smile again, laugh again, and I knew that a certain amount of innocence would return to me. But it wouldn’t be the same. I had tasted the forbidden fruit and I had liked it. I knew that I would steal again. I knew that I would transgress the line of morality once more, many times more in fact.

The illusion of permanence was shattered. It had to happen. It had to happen in some way or another at some time or another. The delusion that my childhood would last forever was gone. With this realization came a feeling of emptiness, an emptiness that I would become very accustomed to over the years but the first cut is the deepest. All things come to pass. Just as the seasons change, left to the master alchemist of time, so do the seasons of our lives. The springtime of our youths fade away too soon, the evanescence of a dying flame, leaving us with memories and fragrances of once budding flowers that are now enjoying their last autumn breeze. The flowers will return in the springtime. Then fresh scents will permeate the air, all will be forgiven, and purity restored. ‘A Return to Innocence.’


 

“Who sees all beings in his own Self, and his own Self in all beings, loses all fear.” – The Upanishads

The morning sun pierced the canopy created by the treetops, illuminating the boy’s path as he ambled through the dense foliage. A songbird fell at the boy’s feet then fluttered its wings and landed several paces ahead of him. Once the boy had reached the new position of the bird then the bird repeated its action. Like this they traveled through the forest together. The boy was smiling elatedly and lost in a dreamlike state when he suddenly stopped in his tracks and gazed at the sight that his eyes beheld. He was staring at a man seated cross-legged underneath a large banyan tree directly in front of him. The man was no more than several paces from the boy. How had he not noticed the man earlier? The boy relaxed his gaze and observed the aura of the yogi. The holy man emitted a radiant golden light that was soothing to the eyes and to the spirit. This light enveloped the boy’s entire being. The man had long gray hair and a thick flowing gray beard. His brown skin was extremely rich and lustrous for someone so advanced in years. He sat perfectly motionless with his legs crossed, his eyes ever so slightly closed, his back straight as a rod, and his hands in his lap right over left with the palms facing upward. There was a certain sense of awareness about him. The boy cautiously approached the tree, sat at the feet of the master, closed his eyes, and imitated the yogi’s posture as best he could.

The yogi had been expecting this boy. Although the boy didn’t know it, it was the yogi who had summoned him to this secluded spot in the forest. Before even opening his eyes the yogi knew exactly what the boy looked like and who the boy was. In his mind’s eye he had seen the boy hundreds if not thousands of times before. At long last the yogi gently opened his eyes and gazed at the boy. The boy, sensing the yogi’s eyes on him, opened his own eyes and glanced into those of the yogi. The yogi had eyes that were at once penetrating and faraway. In the eyes of the holy man the boy saw his own reflection, not the reflection of a ten-year old boy but the reflection of his true self, the reflection of the One. The boy saw entire lifetimes flash before him. In a single moment he was thrust into the depths of maya, he experienced pleasure and pain, joy and suffering, countless human lives, and emerged on the other side unfazed. The boy recognized his blessing. He was in the presence of a true sage. He was in the presence of a man who was full of limitless compassion yet who could bring a mountain to its knees with a flicker of his mind. The boy was in the presence of a man whose very thoughts and desires could be manifested instantaneously, he was in the presence of a man who could give and take life in a single breath.

The thoughts of the yogi shifted. The boy was ready for the path. Needless to say the boy had been awakened before, in fact he had likely been awakened several times previously. The yogi sensed that the boy was near the end of the journey. It could take years before the boy properly mastered circular breathing yet in the world of the yogi years can last mere moments. And moments can last years. In the world of the yogi the hands of time have stopped yielding way to moments of fathomless depth. All forms have blended into one.

A slight smile curled upon the yogi’s lips; he was truly pleased to see the boy. It would only be a moment before the boy entered into the realm where the veil of maya has been removed and the oneness of all things presents itself. Only a moment before the boy saw the Self in all things and all things in the Self. Only a moment before all suffering and pain have ceased. Only a moment before all delusion and grief have passed. Yet that moment existed right now, that moment existed intrinsically in this moment.

A moment passed. The holy man was immersed in deep meditation. He had long since been a master of circular breathing. He had long since been a master of the Self. He had long since pierced the veil of maya, understanding the world outside to be nothing more than a mirror of the world inside of him. He had long since been perpetually conscious of oneness.

A young boy was ambling happily and dreamily through the forest with a songbird at his feet. The boy approached the banyan tree and when he looked up he suddenly stopped in his tracks. His awestruck gaze observed the man seated perfectly motionless with his legs crossed, his eyes ever so slightly closed, his back straight as a rod, and his hands in his lap right over left with the palms facing upward. The boy slowly approached the master and sat at his feet imitating the yogi’s posture as best he could. A slight smile curled upon the lips of the yogi. He had been expecting the boy. He had summoned the boy. Although he had never seen the boy with his own eyes he knew exactly what the boy looked like, he knew exactly who the boy was. It was time. The boy was ready for the path. It was certain that he had been awakened previously and now was near the end of the journey.

The yogi’s thoughts shifted. It was only a moment ago that he was a young boy sitting at the feet of his master. Yet it was not a moment ago. That moment existed simultaneously with this moment. Those moments existed simultaneously with all other moments. All moments existed simultaneously, similar to the ocean that exists simultaneously on the shore and in its center, at the surface and at its deepest depth, as does time exist. Time passes yet it does not pass. The cycle continues yet the cycle has ceased. The master who was once the young boy and the young boy who would one day become the master were one and the same. The fundamental unity of all things is present in this moment. In this moment all things are one and this one being is renewing itself. In each and every moment the ocean of life is continually flowing back into itself and undertaking a process of eternal becoming. The yogi smiled for this was the secret that had set him free and this secret would also set the young boy free just as this secret had set free the seekers of old. A moment passed. Yet it did not pass.

 

What was the secret? The old man lay on the fresh summer grass gazing at the silver and white clouds rolling by carelessly through the open blue sky. Brilliant orange rays from the midday sun peeked through the treetops and illuminated the meadow below. The scent of wildflowers filled the man’s nostrils as he gently stroked a hand through his scruffy gray beard and continued to gaze at the oceanic sky. A flock of white doves soared in unison above him creating a perfect V. The splendor of their flight enchanted the man as his mind drifted into a spell of reverie and he gently closed his eyes.

A kaleidoscope of long lost memories danced before his inner vision. Images from his boyhood surfaced from the depths of his consciousness. As a boy he would clamber over the hillside and down to this very meadow. He would dash eagerly past this same spot where he now lay and on down to the silver stream that flowed freely through the heart of the forest. He would remove his clothes and bathe in the cool crystal clear water of the stream. The memory passed and another one arose.

He was a young boy again. It was a beautiful day, much like the present one where he now lay as an old man, and he and his father were walking through the woods together when the boy spotted a rabbit. He immediately started after the rabbit and as he was chasing it the boy tripped over the root of a tree trunk and fell and scraped his knee. His knee was bleeding and he began crying. The father came over to clean up the wound and gently caressed and nurtured his son. The memory passed and another arose.

The boy had now grown into a handsome young man. It was his wedding day. He was dressed in an all black suit. He gazed at his wife to be. She looked so stunning in her long white dress. She was the image of perfection. She was the most beautiful sight that had ever been seen. He admired her beauty and basked in the warmth of her rays. He had truly been the luckiest man alive. The memory passed and another one arose.

Memories continued to arise and pass. Memories of singing and dancing, of laughing and crying, of stillness and movement, continued to swirl incessantly in front of his eyes. All of these memories flooded his senses with a striking and vibrant clarity of feeling. Tears welled up in the old man’s eyes and trickled down his cheek. These tears were of both sadness and of joy. They were tears of life. They were tears of the human experience.

What was it that made these memories so special and timeless? What made the human experience so precious? What was it that made people laugh and cry? What made them happy? What did sages and saints spend lifetimes searching for? What did beggars and kings alike live and die for? What was it that made birds sing and crickets chirp? What was it that inspired the sun to rise and set? What did nature live and die for? What was the secret?

One more memory returned to him. As a young man he was walking down a crowded city street when he stared deeply into the eyes of a complete stranger. This image of the stranger whose eyes he had gazed into for only an instant, with whom he had not since crossed paths, returned to him with immediacy and importance. He realized now that there was a gleam and depth in that stranger’s eyes that he had never seen before or since in another human being.

As this particular memory passed the flow of thoughts and images had ceased altogether. The man rested in the space that exists in between thoughts, he rested in a state of emptiness and of pure being. He experienced the present moment. All notions and perceptions of time had vanished like a grizzly bear when winter comes. The past and the future had dissolved and entered into the deep chasm of now. Out of this chasm a question returned with resounding urgency. The knowledge of the answer to this one question was his only remaining desire. The question whose answer would give him peace, solace, and closure returned. What was the secret?

In that moment all of his questions and answers became one. In that moment of emptiness the secret bubbled forth and rose like a fairy tale giant awakening from a long slumber. The answer echoed throughout the man’s entire being. It came from within and it came from without. It reverberated over the hillside and across the plains. It climbed the tallest mountains and descended into the deepest valleys. It was here and now and it had been there and would be there, everywhere, all of the time.

Love. This was the secret. To love all of life unconditionally, to love unrestrictedly with a boundless heart, to love without desiring anything in return, this was the secret. The man realized that throughout his entire life it was in the times of love, when he had loved and when he had been loved, that he was the happiest. In fact, these were the only times when he had experienced happiness. The power of love was supreme and paramount. There was no obstacle that love could not overcome, no mountain that love could not climb, and no stone that love could not overturn. The man smiled as he inhaled the breath of love deeply and slowly. Upon exhalation his spirit left the body. He gracefully spread his wings and entered into the light breeze having known the secret of love.

 

Ms. Gardner was a vibrant and highly attractive teacher. More than her looks, although she was absolutely gorgeous by any definition of the word, it was something else that attracted people to her. She possessed a special quality, an intangible halo of the spirit, a magnetic aura that drew in all those around her. Her walk was as swift and full of grace as an eagle in flight. Her smile was embedded with warmth that could melt icebergs. The diamonds in her eyes shone like stars in a perfectly clear night sky. One could not help but feel a certain love and respect for this vivacious young woman

One day, three of Ms. Gardner’s students were walking home from school together when they began to argue about who was their teacher’s favourite student. Each one of them held the firm conviction that it was they who were dearest to Ms. Gardner’s heart. The students contrived a plan to ask the teacher, each in their own way, whether or not they were her favourite student.
The first student, Rasheed, was a boy who often misbehaved and got in trouble in his other classes. With Ms. Gardner, however, he was calm and attentive. She, in return, treated him with respect and kindness. After school when all of the other students had left the classroom Rasheed approached Ms. Gardner’s desk somewhat sheepishly, “Excuse me Miss, but I wanted to ask you a question.”

Ms. Gardner smiled, “Of course Rasheed, speak what is on your mind.”
“I was wondering…am I your favourite student?”
Ms. Gardner gazed directly into the eyes of her student then replied, “Yes Rasheed, you are indeed my favourite.”
Rasheed was overjoyed and ecstatic as he left the classroom. He couldn’t wait to tell the others.

The second student, Sara, was one of the most popular girls in the school. Sara received high marks in class and was involved in many extracurricular activities. Sara could not believe for one second what she had heard from Rasheed. She knew that she was Ms. Gardner’s favourite student. The next day after class Sara approached Ms. Gardner beaming of confidence and self-assurance,

 “Excuse me Miss, but I wanted to ask you a question.”

Ms. Gardner smiled, “Of course Sara, speak what is on your mind.”

“I was wondering…am I your favourite student?”

Ms. Gardner gazed directly into the eyes of her student then replied, “Yes Sara, you are indeed my favourite.”

Sara walked out of the classroom with her head held high and a sense of triumph about her. She couldn’t wait to tell the others.

The third student, Bobby, was an introverted and reclusive young man. Bobby was an average student but he was talented in other respects. Bobby was surprised to hear the accounts of the other two students because he, in fact, knew that he was Ms. Gardner’s favourite student. The next day after school Bobby approached Ms. Gardner timidly, “Excuse me Miss, but I wanted to ask you a question.”

Ms. Gardner smiled, “Of course Bobby, speak what is on your mind.”

“I was wondering…am I your favourite student?”

Ms. Gardner looked directly into the eyes of her student then replied,
“Yes Bobby, you are indeed my favourite.”

Bobby walked out of her classroom quietly overjoyed. He couldn’t wait to tell the others.

When the three students shared their accounts they could not make any sense of the situation. Each student had approached the teacher and asked her the same question and each one had received the same answer. Ms. Gardner had told each of the three students that they indeed were her favourite. How could this be? The students had decided that they would settle this matter once and for all.

The next day after class the three students together approached Ms. Gardner and demanded an explanation as to why she had told each of them that they were her favourite student. In this moment the teacher began to glow and to become increasingly radiant. It was as if she was emitting a brilliant golden light as she began to speak, “I have told you that you are all my favourite student because in the very moment that you each approached me you were my favourite student.”

She looked over her students and saw that they were confused and unsatisfied but eager to listen. She continued her explanation, “There are three principles by which I live my life. The first principle is that the most important time is the present moment. This never changes. My focus and awareness is on the immediate present. The second principle is that the most important person in my life is the person that I am with in the present moment. This never changes. All of my focus and attention is on the person that I am with. The third principle is that the most important action for me to take is to love the person that I am with in the present moment. This never changes. All of my focus and attention is on loving the person or people that I am with in the present moment. Therefore, it follows that in every moment the student or students that I am with are my favourite students.”

The three students were humbled. They now appreciated their compassionate teacher with a greater sense of reverence. Furthermore, they realized that Ms. Gardner had told the truth to each of them and they all realized that they were her favourite student in those precious moments that she was with them.

 

The midday sun scorched down on the black pavement of the busy streets below forming layers of sweltering heat. The sound of seagulls cawing blended with the screeching of tires and the blaring of car horns. Vendors hollered from the street corners as they hawked newspapers and magazines. Throngs of people, rich and poor, young and old, of all colours, shapes, and sizes, came and went, entering and exiting the busy train station situated in the center of the metropolitan business district.

The beggar man sat adjacent to the entrance of the train station. His worn red satchel lay open in front of him. The multitudes rushed this way and that all around the beggar man, coming and going, arriving and departing. A well-dressed businessman attired in an all black suit scampered by, hurriedly tossing several coins into the beggar man’s satchel. An elderly woman walking with a cane and a tired limp dropped a few coins into the open satchel as she wandered along. A young woman carrying a book bag leisurely strolled by and stopped for a moment to place several coins in the satchel of the beggar. People from all different walks of life passed the beggar man and tossed money his way. Most did so thoughtlessly. The odd person, like the young woman with the book bag, would take a few moments to stop and take a pause and a breath before giving a little bit of money to the beggar man.

The beggar man observed all people with equanimity. He preferred none to any other. He observed all of these people, the rich and the poor, the young and the old, with the same expression, with the same demeanour, and with the same countenance. He spoke not and he always had a slight smile on his face. Observed carefully enough one would realize that the beggar man bore the silent smile and the glowing eyes of a person who intimately knew the innermost secrets of the universe. One would reach the conclusion that this beggar man had learned the deepest truths of life itself.

The day had passed in this manner, as had many prior days and as would many future days. Off to the west the rays of the setting sun could be seen peeking through the gaps in between the towering buildings. Dusk was now approaching. The beggar man rose slowly. He stretched his arms reverently to the sky and then gently bent down to touch his feet before rising again. He lifted the satchel off of the ground. It was full and heavy. Slinging the satchel over his shoulder he began walking down the crowded sidewalks. The beggar man walked in a slow and carefully measured pace.

After walking down several city blocks the beggar man arrived at the park. An aura of peace and serenity filled the park. Large oaks and majestic elms formed a border along its outside edges shielding it from the frantic pace of the surrounding city. The sight of greenery and the smell of flowers never ceased to please the beggar man. Every day a magnificent feeling of lightness of being and supreme happiness overcame him as he entered this wonderful park.

On this particular evening many people were enjoying the comfort and quiet company of the flower gardens and the cobblestone walking paths that this natural gem had to offer. Children played boisterously, lovers leisurely strolled arm in arm, the elderly fed the flocks of seagulls. It was as if entering the park was a cue for people to slow down and to appreciate and enjoy the fruits of life a little bit more than they normally did.

In the center of the park stood a majestic water fountain. The fountain was made of white marble and sandstone. A beautiful carving of an angelic being with wings was perched on the summit of the fountain. Water flowed from the narrow top level to the wider lower level creating a large round pool of water. The beggar man approached the fountain thoughtfully and paused upon reaching it. He lowered the heavy satchel on to the ground before raising it again and pouring all of the coins that he had received that day into the fountain. His greatest joy was to help people. He enjoyed helping people to give, for it was in giving that they truly received. There was nothing more that the beggar man enjoyed than helping people to become as free as the birds that soared through the open blue sky.


 

The five children wandered together through the forest walking paths. They had taken this route many times before yet today something about the place felt entirely different to each and every one of them. The boy in the front ran ahead then stumbled over a tree root as he rounded a corner in the trail. Upon rounding the corner he stopped dead in his tracks. The other four children immediately caught up to him and they too stopped dead in their tracks upon rounding the corner. The sight was nothing unusual per se yet there was something very unusual about this particular man who sat cross-legged underneath a large redwood tree.

Upon seeing the children he motioned for them to come and sit down with him. As if drawn by a magnetic force the children continued in the man’s direction and sat down at his feet.

The man’s eyes sparkled like diamonds. His forehead was high and strong, his chin sharp and rugged. The man had unusually pronounced features. He gazed the children over first one by one then as a group. These were the three boys and two girls that he had been expecting. He immediately recognized the exceptional one.

“Since you have come to me at this hour,” the man spoke in a calm and comforting yet somehow commanding voice,

“I will grant each of you any one wish that you desire. You may make your wish and in the morning it will be granted to you.” The man gazed intently at the first boy, the one who had been in the lead and who had first seen the man.

“Young man, what is it that your heart desires?” The boy pondered the man’s question for a moment then a cool and sweet temptation came over him,

“I really like ice cream,” the boy hesitated momentarily, “I wish for an ice cream cone.”

The man smiled as he spoke, “Your wish is granted. In the morning you will receive the most delicious ice cream cone that you have ever tasted.”

The man then turned to the girl who had been the second one to see him. “And you, my darling, what is it that you would like to wish for?”

The girl pondered for several moments before speaking, “Well I really like ice cream too, but I want to be able to have ice cream whenever I want and however much I want. What I really wish for is an ice cream factory! That way I can have as much ice cream as I want, whenever I want to have it.”

The man smiled again, “Your wish is granted. In the morning you will have the largest ice cream factory in the free world and they will produce the finest quality of ice cream ever tasted.”

The girl could hardly contain herself. She leaped joyously at the thought of owning her very own ice cream factory.The eyes of the mysterious man then fell upon the boy who had been the third child to see him.

“My young friend, what is it that your heart desires?”

The boy had heard the wishes of the first two children. True, ice cream was very nice and desirable but what about chocolate, and candy, and toys? Were they not equally desirable? Surely, one must be able to have all of these wonderful things.

The boy gazed momentarily at the man before making his request, “I really like ice cream too but I also like chocolate, and candy, and toys. What I wish for is a billion dollars. With a billion dollars I can buy an ice cream factory, a chocolate factory, a candy factory, and a toy factory.”

The man raised his eyebrows at the boy’s clever request. “Consider your wish granted. In the morning you will wake up with a billion dollars.” The boy was elated and the first two children admired the boy’s ingenuity.
The man’s eyes fell upon the girl who was the fourth child to have seen the man.

“And you my dear, what is it that you would like to wish for?”

The girl had already made her decision. After hearing the wishes of the other children she already knew what it was that she desired.

“I wish,” she paused momentarily to gather her thoughts, “I wish for three wishes. With my first wish I would like to wish for an ice cream factory, with my second wish I would like to wish for a billion dollars and with my third wish I would like to wish for three more wishes again. With my third wish I will always wish for three more wishes, again and again and again.” The girl smiled with triumphant pride as she made this request. The first three children were in awe of this brilliant girl that sat among them. A horror stricken look came over the face of the wish granter.

“Are you absolutely certain that this is your wish? This is a very, very dangerous thing to wish for. The outcome of such a wish can be perilous!”

“I’m certain!” exclaimed the girl.

“Very well then your wish is granted. In the morning you will wake up with three wishes. With the first you will receive an ice cream factory, with the second a billion dollars, and then you will receive three more wishes again. Like this you may continue to keep wishing as long as you like.”

His eyes then fell on the fifth and final child. This boy was resting with his eyes slightly closed and listening to the wishes of his companions. This boy understood deep within himself why the man had said that the previous girl’s wish could be perilous.

“And you, my silent and noble friend, what would you like to wish for?”

The boy slightly opened his eyes, gazing directly into the eyes of the man before speaking in a soft and carefully measured voice, “What I wish for,” he paused mindfully, “is that I never need to wish for anything in my life. I wish that I will never wish for or desire anything ever again.”

The eyes of the man glowed with pleasure as he placed his hands together in front of his chest and bowed humbly and reverently before the enlightened boy that sat before him. “It is with great honour that I grant your wish. In the morning you will be free from the self-perpetuating cycle of wishes and desires. You will be granted the liberation from suffering and the enlightenment that naturally accompany such a wish.”


 

In the springtime of my youth, I possessed that innate gift that all children possess at some age or another, for some length of time or another, in varying degrees, that glorious gift of being able to see the world with wonder. It is that gift that, as a child, allowed me to understand the language of birds and trees, of grasshoppers and bumblebees, of the wind and the river. Nearly all children possess this gift of communication with the natural world, this harmony and communion with everything that is truly alive. It is saved, however, for only the most rare and elect of individuals to sustain this natural ability and to retain this sacred gift, that of possessing the heart of a child, as they age and grow older.
As is the case with nearly all children, time passed and this ability left me, as slowly and surely as a waterfall cascading from a mountaintop and into the sea. As I grew and began attending grade school, a gradual dissemination into the ways of society took over and my once inherent abilities to speak and listen to the secret language of the natural world diminished and then, all of a sudden and without notice, vanished. At the time I did not realize quite what it was that was missing, yet I knew deep inside of me that there was, indeed, some vital part of my being that was now gone, as if there was a beautiful bird that was perched in the chamber of my soul and it had flown away.

All of this changed the summer that Michael came to visit. I was sixteen years of age at the time, Michael was a distant relative and was several years older than I, he wanted to experience the world and to travel, and his parents had suggested it a good idea for him to come and stay with my family. I still remember, with certain poignancy, the first day that Michael walked into my life. From the very beginning I was completely in awe of him, I was in awe of his presence and his demeanour, in awe of his countenance, the humble yet haughty grace with which he carried himself in every step that he took. His voice was at once soft and enchanting yet firm and commanding, his words were carefully and precisely measured, each one exact to its given context. The single feature that separated Michael from every other human being that I had me up until that point in my life, however, was a gleam in his eyes, as if they were illuminated with bright stars shining through them, this gleam was at once serene and dreamlike, focused yet distant.

Michael immediately took a liking to me and took me on as his pupil that summer, something for which I am ever grateful. It was through his guidance that I remembered what I had lost and that I had found it once more. Although Michael would turn twenty that summer, he was one of those rare individuals who never lost the glorious gift that children possess, he was, in fact, endowed with the heart of a child. When he walked down the street, his smile would light up the faces of pretty girls and elderly citizens alike, when he approached the pond, doves and swans would sing to him, in the woods, robins and blackbirds would dance merrily at his feet. His favourite pastime was resting beneath large trees and simply staring at the sky, Michael loved nothing more than watching the clouds roll along leisurely yet with perfect purpose. We spent many days that summer underneath oaks and elms, watching the clouds, and time alike, drift slowly into the past.

In addition to this form of austere reflection, Michael’s other favourite pastime was composing and reciting poetry, and at any given time he was liable to voice the words of William Blake,

                                         “To see a world in a grain of sand
                                             And a heaven in a wildflower,
                                      To hold infinity in the palm of your hand
                                                And eternity in an hour.”

I have heard those words of Blake’s many times since that summer and every time I am reminded of Michael, not only because he was fond of speaking them, but also because they capture his very essence. He truly saw worlds in grains of sand and heavens in wildflowers, he held infinity in the palm of his hand, and he had experienced eternity in an hour. He never spoke of neither past nor future, seeming to be firmly entrenched in the present moment at all times. Through my time spent with Michael I slowly relearned the secret language of the natural world, that of birds and trees, grasshoppers and bumblebees, the wind and the river. I slowly found, once more, that which had been lost to me, that unnamable yet integral essence, and I slowly remembered that eternal wisdom, the wisdom that rests inside the depths of every person, which had been long forgotten. Now and again, I think of Michael and I wonder upon which dusty road the wind has now blown him, yet I know that wherever he is, the natural world speaks to him and he to it. It speaks to him in that secret language that can only be heard, listened to, and understood, by those special and precious individuals who possess the heart of a child.