"I sit here on the banks of this river, frittering my days away, good Doctor! I do what is expected of me. I am diligent in my worldly duties, but do no more. Doubt trips up my every progress. It cripples me. Try as i might, and you have given me so many encouraging words already, i fail again and again and again to do what is right and good and worthy of my humanity." The middle-aged man with the fishing rod in hand is not angry, nor is he frustrated. The good Doctor Krishna is now even more concerned.
"As you clearly state, doubt is a hindrance. I have no medicine for this ailment, but i can see that you are suffering," the little brown man says, gazing over the wide stretch of gently flowing water. "The question is, what is lacking?"
"I do not know what you mean, Dr. Krishna?"
"What is holding you back? What is tripping you up? What is missing?"
"I have meditated on this and it is not fear. The goal is believable. The path is worn. All seems to be clear, yet i do not walk the path. I hesitate. I am frozen."
"Hmm," ponders the doctor aloud, squatting down upon the sandy bank to run the tips of his fingers over the surface of the river, "You claim to understand all, but this is an abstraction. You say, for example, that the open sky is blue, yet how do you know this? Have you touched it? Have you tasted it? Has the sky whispered its truth into your ear?"
"You mock me, sir," sighs the fisherman, "Of course not. Everyone knows the sky is blue."
"Because you can see it, yes. But can a blind man know its colour? When it is cloudy, is it still blue? If you will please recall, how you perceive the world through your senses is changeable, variable, never static, rising and then falling away again. Yet, you do not doubt the permanent blueness of the sky."
The two men are now silent. The water passes. Diamonds of light flash, burst and dazzle. The sky above is indeed, very blue. The day grows warmer.
"I trust in the wisdom taught me, but perhaps not enough. Meditation. Prayer. The silence is frightening. My failures in compassion disheartening. The long days of pithy sufferings grow weighty. I miss resolve. The signposts illegible." The insights are spoken tonelessly, as if read from an uninspiring recipe.
"Seek out your teacher to put you back on the path with resolve. Know inner silence with patience and compassion. What more can i say that you do not already know, old friend?" questions the doctor. "Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed," he quotes, "Do not rely on what your mind and its sensory perceptions would have you believe. Investigate and be critical of all the mind would sell you as truth so that you many see the Truth of this life as it is, beyond the senses, beyond opinions, beyond the mists of personal delusion. Be free, my friend. Shine like the sun for all mankind. Cross this river, friend."
The fisherman cuts the line, lays down the rod and intones the first lines of his well-practised mantra. Doctor Krishna is happy to see the little smile on the other man's face.
"As you clearly state, doubt is a hindrance. I have no medicine for this ailment, but i can see that you are suffering," the little brown man says, gazing over the wide stretch of gently flowing water. "The question is, what is lacking?"
"I do not know what you mean, Dr. Krishna?"
"What is holding you back? What is tripping you up? What is missing?"
"I have meditated on this and it is not fear. The goal is believable. The path is worn. All seems to be clear, yet i do not walk the path. I hesitate. I am frozen."
"Hmm," ponders the doctor aloud, squatting down upon the sandy bank to run the tips of his fingers over the surface of the river, "You claim to understand all, but this is an abstraction. You say, for example, that the open sky is blue, yet how do you know this? Have you touched it? Have you tasted it? Has the sky whispered its truth into your ear?"
"You mock me, sir," sighs the fisherman, "Of course not. Everyone knows the sky is blue."
"Because you can see it, yes. But can a blind man know its colour? When it is cloudy, is it still blue? If you will please recall, how you perceive the world through your senses is changeable, variable, never static, rising and then falling away again. Yet, you do not doubt the permanent blueness of the sky."
The two men are now silent. The water passes. Diamonds of light flash, burst and dazzle. The sky above is indeed, very blue. The day grows warmer.
"I trust in the wisdom taught me, but perhaps not enough. Meditation. Prayer. The silence is frightening. My failures in compassion disheartening. The long days of pithy sufferings grow weighty. I miss resolve. The signposts illegible." The insights are spoken tonelessly, as if read from an uninspiring recipe.
"Seek out your teacher to put you back on the path with resolve. Know inner silence with patience and compassion. What more can i say that you do not already know, old friend?" questions the doctor. "Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed," he quotes, "Do not rely on what your mind and its sensory perceptions would have you believe. Investigate and be critical of all the mind would sell you as truth so that you many see the Truth of this life as it is, beyond the senses, beyond opinions, beyond the mists of personal delusion. Be free, my friend. Shine like the sun for all mankind. Cross this river, friend."
The fisherman cuts the line, lays down the rod and intones the first lines of his well-practised mantra. Doctor Krishna is happy to see the little smile on the other man's face.
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