This Reminds Me Of A Story

In little time and with effortless agreement you can build up other peoples’ knowledge. For this, cause them to put their minds together and teach each other while you keep silent. The little they know will come up like oil on the water. Then, if you still have something left to say, add your own, without fear of repeating the obsolete. This reminds me of a story: Nasrudin was now a reputed philosopher. The day came when he decided to walk back and bring a tear of remembrance to native Horto, the village of his first childhood slap. The news was fast to spread over the fences. The elder of Horto, flattered by the visit of the great man hurried to bid him: "Pray, master, do come and share your wisdom with the people!" "Be it" he answered. At the heart of the market, duly mounted on a huge festive barrel Hoca addressed the crowd: "People of Horto" he started, "do you know what I will say to you?" "Yes we do", shouted some impertinent youn

Bad is never good until worse arrives. This maxim – reversed - is useful in unpromising situations. You could make things even tougher and then, get back to what was before. This reminds me of a story: Nasrudin the Mullah was dispensing much respected wisdom to the gent of Aksehir. The needy and the perplexed found light in his simple, deep words and the rich preferred to listen to his sermon rather than feel the bite of his sharp tongue. A man came to complain about his terrible poverty: “It is unbearable” he said, “I live with my wife, five kids, grand mother and grandpa in the one and only noisy room of a small hut and we must feed, all of us, mainly on the milk of my unique scabby goat. I am desperate, something must be done! What to do Mullah?” Nasrudin listened with his usual compassion, pondered for a while and then said: “This is a serious situation; we shall do one thing at a time. Go home and take the goat into the house. Feed it carefully and keep it there day and night. Com

Modest places require vital skills. If you are well educated, beware of the simple people. They may give you a lesson. This reminds me of a story: Now Nasrudin was a ferryman. One day he took a scholar in his boat. As he listened to the Hodja's chatter the learned man - a scholar equal to Rumi himself - observed some errors of speech and asked: "Tell me Hoca, did you ever study grammar?" "No." "What a shame! You wasted half of your life." Nasrudin grew silent. After a while he asked: "Wise one, did you learn to swim?" "No", said the professor. "What a pity! You wasted your entire life, Master. We sink. "

Tyrants deserve hypocrisy. Render therefore unto Caesar the things which be Caesar's, and unto God the things which be God's. And what is yours, keep for yourself. This reminds me of a story: Nasrudin presented to Tamerlane a dish of eggplant. It was the authentic Imam Bayıldı, the delicate dish that had an Imam faint with pleasure, prepared - as they do it at Konya - in honour of the Great Emir and in sign of the profound love and respect of the Turkish people for the generous conqueror and destroyer of their country. The cooks were lucky. Timur, who happened to be hungry, liked this course very much. He ate a second serving and said to the Hodja: “Worm, this is delicious. How come I did not know it before?” “Indeed, Master, said Nasrudin, it is the best thing we can eat in this world, a gift from Allah the All Beneficent. You did not savour it before because aubergines, the Indian “brinjal” were never cooked properly until we prepared them with Turkish skill and spice.” “Let

The best way to teach and to convince is to act like Socrates. Be a midwife not a schoolmaster. Come with seemingly empty hands, armed with discrete wisdom. Cook new knowledge from the ingredients everybody has and do not know how to value. When the skilled adviser did his work, people believe they are the ones who made it. This reminds me of a story: The wind and the looting hordes had blown away even the little hospitality a pilgrim might have expected. The farmers shut themselves behind their walls, with relatives, servants, cows, sheep and poultry, all hoping to forget the world outside. Nobody would offer this poor traveller the charity of some food and a sheltered corner for a night. After a good dozen of frozen doors slammed into his nose, Nasr Eddin tried a different way... He knocked on the tall wooden gate of a rich household on the hillside. "Allah help you!" said a servant, "we have nothing to give today." "A master cook of the kings d

“Occam’s razor” principle teaches us to shave away the useless complications. Keep it as simple as possible (but not simpler – would say Einstein). This reminds me of a story: Tired of so many years of travel and danger, Nasrudin was wandering back home. On his way he met a Sufi saint. They walked together for many days, in silence, heading for Konya. At the muddy banks of the Kizilirmak not far from Karalar, the large expanse of the waters halted their progress. For a while, they looked quietly at the peaceful settlement on the other side of the river. Unexpectedly, the saint spoke: "I can walk on water. It took fifty years of meditation, and now I am light enough. But I can’t take you with me." The Hodja raised his eyebrows: "Fifty years? That's a long time…" Followed another long moment of peaceful silence. Then Nasrudin added: "Concerning me… why not stroll over to that man with the boat and pay two coppers for the passage, both of us?"

You are worth to people as much as they hope from you, teaches Gracian the philosopher. Not as much as they owe you. Only fools count on gratitude. If you want something, offer expectation in exchange. This reminds me of a story: The sweaty Mullah tired by the big city felt it was time to take a good bath. The chambers and washrooms of the old Court hammam in Konya were swarming with merry people glad to escape the sandy heat of the simoom, the poisonous wind of the summer. As his garment was poor and his face shy, Nasrudin was given a soiled towel, stinky slippers, a tiny piece of scorched soap and, of course, no attention. Well, at least they let him in. On his way out, he did not forget to leave an amazingly rich tip - a small gold coin. The following week, when he went to the bath, our Hoca was pampered like a pasha: large soft towels, sandal-wood clogs, silk peshtemal, precious scented soap at the soaking pools, refreshing drinks, total massage - at the limit between h