Tag Archives: do no harm

Let Me Tell You a Story: It’s a Good One!

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Has anyone seen Walk the Line? It’s a great movie that tells the story (or a version thereof) of the life of Johnny Cash. Yes, I know: not everyone is into country music. This movie, however, is an intriguing insight into the life and work of a  gifted but troubled artist. He was a prolific and inspired singer and songwriter.

There is a scene in the movie in which Johnny is about ten or so. He’s talking to his brother who is maybe 14. The brother is studying the Christian scriptures (he wants to be a preacher when he grows up, but dies soon after in an horrific accident) and Johnny says, ‘Why you studying so hard?’ His brother looks up from his reading and says,

‘You can’t help nobody if you don’t tell ´em the right stories.’

Yes, I thought when I heard that, you have to tell them the right stories. But, what are the right stories? It’s a good question but, fortunately, there is a simple answer: they are all the right stories. That is if they are told from and with the heart, and if they are created and shared with the intention of conveying Truth, promoting harmony, and doing or causing to be done, what’s right.

The ‘them’ of poor brother Cash’s reply are those who get to hear/see/feel the stories we tell. And we all tell stories don’t we? I mean I’m telling you a story right now. As a (cringe) blogger, that’s what I do.

But we all share stories of all kinds. Sometimes they are stories of our lives, sometimes they are from memories passed down the generations. Other times they might be something we ‘make up’ to help someone to understand a point or idea. Pretty much all of us, most of the time communicate in one kind of story or another.

Of course there’s the other kind of stories; the ones meant to spread rumour or gossip, to hurt someone, to mislead. We all know how that works, and it’s not today’s topic anyway, so let’s just leave it there.

Those we share stories with may be those we intend to share with, and they might be others who at the time are distant from us both in time and space. Just as the stories we tell each other might be decades or even centuries old, so might our stories keep on reverberating through time and space.

A true story written on a wall somewhere

It’s also true that the stories that ‘help’ people come in all shapes and forms and are about an unlimited variety of subjects and topics. Then there’s the matter of timing. How often have you ‘just by chance’ read something inspirational when you were needing some guidance or advice?

Or what about those times when you are feeling a bit low or under the weather and you come across a story that makes you smile or otherwise lifts your spirits? I’ve often been in need of a good cry only to come across a sad movie or story or a moving tale of one kind or another. (Just last night I read a wonderful phrase I’d never seen before: Transformational Weeping. Probably a story or two there do you think?)

A story I tell myself literally every day. One that’s a prayer and an affirmation

So, let’s keep telling stories. They are all the right ones for us to tell – if they come from the heart and told with the intention of serving Truth. Someone once wrote:

If there is a way to improve the world, it is by telling a good story.

Okay then.

Once upon a time on a dark but not so stormy night …

PS I saw the movie in Dharamsala India. On a postcard home I wrote a little rhyme about some writing work I was doing on some of the town’s environmental issues for a local magazine:

He walked the line
did Johnny Cash.
But here in Dalai Lama Land
my words will help reduce trash.

I did say stories come in all shapes and forms didn’t I?

A Lesson Learned: Love & Truth

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Greetings my friends

You know it’s funny how sometimes it takes a lot of time, many years in some cases, for a life event or some happening or other to finally emerge to express itself in some kind of creative form or other.

Just this minute (literally) I was reading through some poems of mine and I came across one I wrote only two months ago. I won’t say I’d completely forgotten about it, but at the same time, I can’t recall thinking of it again since writing. Until that moment five minutes ago that is.

The poem was prompted by an event that took place thirty- seven years ago. Not a major event on the face of it, just a small interaction between a mother and son. Here’s the backstory.

My mother loved Bingo, and played it at various venues several times a week. I’d just returned from several years overseas and she asked me if I’d like to be the security guard at that night’s particular venue. The regular guy couldh’t make it and they needed someone to just hang out in the car park so everyone would feel safe.

The River of Life rarely flows in a straight line

Well they were very different days, and I wasn’t who I am now, so I jumped at this very easy, relaxed, sounding gig. And off we went at the appropriate time.

It’s not part of the poem’s story but thinking about it now, I remember my mother’s joy and relaxed vibe as she interacted with her ‘Bingo family’. That’s a treasured memory.

Anyway, later in the evening I was wandering around, zigzagging through the parking lot, when I saw Mam waving at me to come to her.

And the poem takes it from there as they say.

I said the piece is about a simple mother son interaction and it is. But there is more to it really. The poem is about, at another level, Love and Truth.

It’s also about a fundamental concept I try hard to govern my life by: Ahimsa. This is an approach to life based on doing the least harm one can do in all areas of living in the world. It’s not strictly speaking a prohibition on telling untruths, nor does it mandate an absolute ban on violence. It’s complicated, as they say.

Gandhiji adhered to Ahimsa as his life’s guiding principle. While his style of living was to trust in Truth, he knew that at times, the way of least harm requires loving, compassionate discernment as we are faced with dilemmas of what’s right and what’s wrong in the infinite number of situations we are confronted with on a daily basis.

So, my friends, here is my poem. Read in peace.

WITH THE EYES OF THE HEART

I ate a hotdog once upon a time,
even though a vegan I am.
On the spot, split second decison; I considered it fine.
You see, as a fait accompli it was presented to me – by my Mam.

‘It’s a special vege kind I got for you.’
So the offered food I did receive,
though I clearly saw it wasn’t true.
Sometimes you need more than eyes to see what you believe.

My acceptance acknowledged her thoughtfulness
and validated her gesture of mother-to-son love.
So, to any karmic consequences, I will submit with grace.

Thank you for allowing me to share this story and poem with you. And even more of a thank you for reading how I learned a lesson about love and truth and how sometimes truth may actually sometimes need to be followed even if the so-called facts say different.

Blessings and love