Story from the web on dharma-Jai Maa

[Guest guest]

A young, new monk was walking with an older, more seasoned monk in a

garden one day and, feeling a bit insecure, he was inquiring of the

older monk about what God had for him to do. The older monk walked up

to a rosebush and handed the young monk a rosebud and told him to

open it without tearing off any petals. The young monk looked in

disbelief at the older monk and was trying to figure out what a

rosebud could possibly have to do with his question.

 

 

 

Because of his high respect for the older monk, he proceeded to try

to unfold the rose while keeping every petal intact. It wasn't long

before he realized how impossible it was to do so. Noticing the

younger monk's inability to unfold the rosebud while keeping it

intact, the older monk began to recite the following poem :

 

 

 

It is only a tiny rosebud,

 

A flower of god's design;

 

But I cannot unfold the petals

 

With these clumsy hands of mind.

 

 

 

The secret of unfolding flowers

 

Is not known to such as I.

 

God opens this flower so sweetly,

 

When in my hands they fade and die.

 

 

 

If I cannot unfold a rosebud,

 

This flower of God's design,

 

Then how can I think I have wisdom

 

To unfold this life of mine?

 

 

 

So I'll trust Her for Her leading

 

Each moment of every day.

 

I will look to Her for Her guidance

 

Each step of this grace filled way.

 

 

 

The pathway that lies before me,

 

Only she truly knows.

 

I'll trust Her to unfold the moments,

 

Just as She unfolds the rose.

 

 

This story was told by respected Swami Nigamananda Saraswati ---

[Guest guest]

Dear Sadumaa,

 

What a beauriful poem. It is reflecting my feelings one- hundred -per- cent..

Thank you for sharing it.

 

love

Jai Ma!

Neelima

sadumaa <sadumaa > wrote:

A young, new monk was walking with an older, more seasoned monk in a

garden one day and, feeling a bit insecure, he was inquiring of the

older monk about what God had for him to do. The older monk walked up

to a rosebush and handed the young monk a rosebud and told him to open

it without tearing off any petals. The young monk looked in disbelief

at the older monk and was trying to figure out what a rosebud could

possibly have to do with his question.Because of his high respect for

the older monk, he proceeded to try to unfold the rose while keeping

every petal intact. It wasn't long before he realized how impossible

it was to do so. Noticing the younger monk's inability to unfold the

rosebud while keeping it intact, the older monk began to recite the

following poem :It is only a tiny rosebud,A flower

of god's design;But I cannot unfold the petalsWith these clumsy hands

of mind.The secret of unfolding flowersIs not known to such as I.God

opens this flower so sweetly,When in my hands they fade and die.If I

cannot unfold a rosebud,This flower of God's design,Then how can I

think I have wisdomTo unfold this life of mine?So I'll trust Her for

Her leadingEach moment of every day.I will look to Her for Her

guidanceEach step of this grace filled way.The pathway that lies

before me,Only she truly knows.I'll trust Her to unfold the

moments,Just as She unfolds the rose.This story was told by respected

Swami Nigamananda Saraswati ---

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[Guest guest]

This goes straight to the heart Sadumaa.

Thanks for sharing.

 

Kali