Two Tales of Compassion
Stories Of Compassion From Two Different Periods” was a very touching email that I received on Thanksgiving Day from Krishna Kaul. Krishna, thank you so very much! It originally appeared on
www.thesilencedtruth.com.
As you read this true story, especially the second half, keep in mind that this was the same young man who would one day be crucified in the media as a “freak” and a “monster!” Is this how we treat our compassionate messengers and healers of the earth?
Once upon a time, thousands of years ago in the holy land of India there lived a messenger of God who was called Gautam Buddha after he attainted nirvana. But before he was Buddha, he went by the name Prince Siddhartha. And here is a little story of kindness from the boyhood days of this man of great compassion and love.
Prince Siddhartha was very kind to people, animals and other living things. Although he did not have to suffer any hardships and difficulties, as he had everything, he always thought of the poor people and living things who were working hard to make him happy. He felt sorry for them and wanted to make them happy too.
One day he was walking in the woods with his cousin Devadatta, who had brought his bow and arrows with him. Suddenly, Devadatta saw a swan flying and shot at it. His arrow brought the swan down. Both the boys ran to get the bird. As Siddhartha could run faster than Devadatta, he reached the swan’s injured body first and found, to his surprise, that it was still alive. He gently pulled out the arrow from the wing. He then got a little juice from cool leaves, put it on the wound to stop the bleeding and with his soft hand stroked the swan, which was very frightened. When Devadatta came to claim the swan, Prince Siddhartha refused to give it to him. Devadatta was very angry to see his cousin keeping the swan away from him. “Give me my bird! I shot it down,” said Devadatta.
“No, I am not going to give it to you,” said the Prince. “If you had killed it, it would have been yours. But now, since it is only wounded but still alive, it belongs to me.”�
Devadatta still did not agree. Then Siddhartha suggested, “Let us go to the court of the Sage and ask him who really owns the swan.” Devadatta agreed, so off they went to the court of the Sage to tell him about their quarrel.�
The Sage, hearing both boys’ version of the story, said, “A life certainly must belong to he who tries to save it, a life cannot belong to one who is only trying to destroy it. The wounded swan by right belongs to Siddhartha.”
Kind Siddhartha, took the custody of the wounded swan and took care of it until it was ready to fly again.
********************************************************************
Once upon a time in the holy land of Indiana was born a musical messiah, who was called the “King of Pop” after he created history with his music. But before he was the “King of Pop”, he was simply, Michael Jackson. This kind and compassionate artist was a great empath and felt the pain of entire mankind(esp children), animals and mother earth. He wanted to heal the world though his love and music and was much misunderstood in his lifetime. Here is a story of compassion from his younger days.
One day in the spring, Majestik (a close Jackson family friend) and fledgling super star but not yet King of Pop, Michael were at the compound at Hayvenhurst, the Jackson home, just hanging out together. They were headed down the driveway to the studio at the back of the property. They were bantering back and forth in conversation while walking along. Majestik was talking to Michael when he realized Michael was no longer next to him but was leaning down looking at the ground and crying.
He said “Michael, What are you doing?” Michael responded with tears streaming down his face, “Look it’s a baby bird and its dead!” Majestik not being of the same soft heart for nature as MJ and with his mind on where he was heading said “Michael, it is just a bird. There’s nothin’ you can do about it now. Man, its dead. Come on. We got to go. Let’s go.” Michael stood up and looked at him and in his soft voice and from his huge heart pleaded, “Majestik, this was a living creature with a heart and a soul just like us. We have to do something!”
Majestik emphatically insisted, “What are you gonna do, Michael? It’s already dead. There’s nothing you can do now.” As he was trying to convince Michael to just keep walking he realized that Michael is now down on the ground on his knees, digging a hole with his bare hands to bury the bird, while saying “We have to bury it. We have to bury this bird. We can’t just leave it here and we HAVE to say a prayer for this bird.”
He then finishes digging the hole, places the bird in the hole and covers it with dirt, as he finishes burying the bird he pats the ground gently with his hand, then stands and insists that Majestik stand right there with him over the new grave of the fallen bird while together they say a prayer. Michael leads the two of them in a prayer and asks God to bless the little baby bird and take it to heaven.
They are done praying and Majestik again tries to spur Michael on saying, “Ok, come on now. Come on. We got work to do. Let’s go! We’re done. Let’s go now!” But Michael is riveted and ignoring his pleas, instead looks up realizing the baby bird had fallen to its death out of a nearby tree. Suddenly he ascends up into the tree. Climbing the tree to the spot of the bird’s nest, where he then carefully fixes the nest so no more birdie babies will fall out and die.
His mission for God that spring day complete, he then climbs down. Brushes himself off and continues on with Majestik to the studio to work.
I have to confess, my reaction would have been similar to Majestik’s. I might have noticed, oh, there is a dead baby bird and I would have felt bad. But I doubt I would have stopped, let alone take the trouble to bury it and even the added mile to make sure the rest of the babies were safe! Not because I’m cold hearted (far from it) but because, like most of us, a lifelong conditioning of growing up in 20th/21st century America, with toys, cars, processed food, TV and computers has separated most of us from the concerns of the natural world we live in. We move through nature most days like zombies, never really taking the time out to notice if our fellow creatures around us are in danger or distress. What is a baby bird’s life to most of us? It affects us not at all.
Yet I can remember, as a small child, always wanting to stop and help the animals I saw. If I saw a dead bird, I wanted to bury it. But then I would hear the stern voices of my grandmother, or my parents: “Don’t touch that thing, it’s nasty. You don’t know what kind of germs are on it.” Thus, my initiation into the adult world.
It's Not About Being Childish, But Child-LIKE...To Never Lose That Sense Of Wonder And Compassion.
I have often spoken out against this myth of Michael Jackson as some eternal Peter Pan; some boy that never grew up. I think in a lot of ways, it is a myth (admittedly, one he himself helped perpetuate) that often times prevented the world from being able to appreciate the man. But all of his life, he did maintain an innocent, compassionate quality that was not childish, but “child like.” And thank God he did! He taught us that we do not have to separate the child from the man-or woman. As children, we are blank slates whose hearts are filled with love, compassion, and laughter. We hate no one. We love everything. A child, walking past a dead baby bird, would know intuitively that one dead baby bird means there are more baby birds nearby who may be in imminent danger, if you but bother to look up into the tree. The adult forgets these things.
<object width="640" height="505"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rBaLyPQF-Fo?fs=1&hl=nl_NL"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rBaLyPQF-Fo?fs=1&hl=nl_NL" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="505"></embed></object>
Sometimes, even when I pass a roadkill possum, it occurs to me to think, “That might have been a mother with babies to feed. What if those babies are waiting in their nest, helpless, for a mother who is never going to return?” But the adult in me drives on, with adult issues too pressing and urgent to give orphaned possums more than a passing thought.
Every day, we live in a world full of tragedies, sadness and sorrow that we never even take the time to notice, simply because we’ve been so conditioned to think that our human lives are the only ones that matter.
Michael continues to teach us by example, even from beyond. Often, it’s not the biggest things he accomplished that matter the most. We can admire that he sold millions of records, made groundbreaking videos, and won every music award there is to give-often multiple times.
But, in the end, are any of those things bigger or more important than stopping to bury a baby bird and to make sure its siblings were safe? Sometimes the things that will never make the headlines are the things that tell us the most about who that person truly is.
Source:
http://allforloveblog.com/