This Reminds Me Of A Story

Some rare people do it naturally, for the rest of us it is a valuable discovery: when you have nothing to say, just say nothing. You are not obliged to fill all the silences with your words. Allow pause and even better; create stillness when you want to cause other people to speak. This reminds me of a story: Believe it or not, Nasreddin used to be a silent child. As a matter of fact his parents waited for the baby to start speaking and he didn’t. Years passed. The boy was six now and still not talking. Not a word. Mother and Father had tried all they knew to get him speak as other children do. Nothing helped. They even took him to town but the best barbers in Konya didn't find the cause of the ailment. In time, the family accepted, with great sadness, that poor Nasreddin was mute. Then came that God-given afternoon. The child ran into the house shouting, "Mother! Father!! The barn is burning! The barn is all in flames! Come quick!" Happy parents! Who

Don’t fight each “No!”. Learn from water. Water gives way, goes around, and soaks trough. Easy does it. Don’t break through that which you can carry. This reminds me of a story: Mounted on a platform by the wool market in Konya Nasrudin was teaching his followers and anyone else who wished to listen: "Have trust in Allah, but don't forget to tie up your camel." and “Don’t wait to dig your well until you are thirsty” By that time the crowd trusted and obeyed the word of the Hodja: "The wise will do what I say", he said, "and not what I do. “The common people will do what I do, but not what I say.” “As for the fools, they will call my stories "jokes". The fools will laugh, whatever I say or do. If they would listen to me, I might be saying something foolish. Now, let's see who heeds my words:" A wandering dervish, who grew irritated to see everyone open-mouthed with admiration for such a simpleton, shouted from the crowd: "They liste

Words once spoken live their own life. Giving careless reasons may turn back on you like a boomerang. Think both ways. Mind that what you point to others now can be pointed back to you later. This reminds me of a story: At that time Nasreddin was at schoolboy. Once, as his teacher was imparting knowledge, he was pleasantly interrupted by a relative who brought him a wonderful gift: A large plate full of lokum and sweetmeat. To wait for a break – when he could quietly enjoy his preferred sweets looked like ages to him. Worse, just before the break, the qadi called the teacher for an important affair. As he was leaving, the master told the children: “Be careful in my absence! Don’t touch the sweets; they are poisoned by my enemies. Whoever ate them would drop dead.” As soon as he left, the children attacked the plate so well that they didn’t leave even a morsel of the goodies. Adding to this they even broke the beautiful pen of the teacher. After a short while the teac

People believe what they desire to believe. Skilled liars know this very well. Their lies are tall (beyond your ability to compare) and simple (so that they can stretch them out as needed) and meet your wishes (so that you lovingly embrace them). They deceive but you cheat yourself. This reminds me of a story: Young Nasrudin went to his rich neighbour, Hakim, to borrow a larger pot and a small silver akçe. It is difficult to give and even harder to lend but in the end the neighbour brought out from the kitchen one of his many pots and handed over, with regret, one of his many silver sounding coins: “For one week, no more” When the seven days were over, without delay, the Hodja knocked at the neighbour’s door and gave him back the cleaned pot, covered with a clean piece of cloth. “Where is my silver akçe?” asked the man. “Just look inside the pot and you will be pleased” In the big pot there was another small pot, inside the small pot the akçe and by the side of the akçe

When you debate with the know-all ask them that simplest of things: “what is this which you believe to master so well? What is it?” Most people are unable to answer properly. Socrates used this question to prove the arrogant that they don’t know what they speak about. This reminds me of a story: Tamerlane was a savage beast in his soul but he was a clever man too and liked to surround himself with studious and God-fearing people. Among the erudite and the believers the Emir felt as if he himself were enlightened and good. In this company of respectable ulemas and muftis Nasrudin was just a pet, fed to amuse the empty hours of the ruler. Unfortunately, while Timur was amused, Hoca rarely amused the scholars and they did their best to get rid of the Sufi jester who mocked so often the folly of the learned. At one time of danger they went to denounce him at the feet of Timur and requested – in the name of right thinking and general agreement– the Hodja to be beheaded for heresy. Nasr

Things should be paid in kind. Pay true help with generous return, worth with worth and politeness with politeness. But to a question like sand in your bowl of rice give an answer like a stick dragged through swampy mud. This reminds me of a story: A poor man passed by a shop where appetising shish kebab was roasting on a turning rod and koftes were frying with irresistible aromas. As he could not afford to pay such delicacies, he took out of his bag a large piece of bread. With his nose immersed in the delicious smell, he ate his loaf dreaming of lavish feasts. The shopkeeper observed him for a while and then requested him to pay for the treat. "Your bread tasted better in the smell of my kebab, so you must pay," he said. As the man refused to pay, the owner dragged him before the cadi, who happened to be the Hoca. Nasrudin listened to each party, with attention, and resolved quickly: "Goods enjoyed must be paid. You, the client, present me your purse." Wi

If you cannot dress in lion skin, wear fox pelt. In bad times, learn how to benefit from the shadow of the powerful. But that requires nerve. This reminds me of a story: One sunny afternoon Tamerlane lay resting in the shade of a lofty red and green silken pavilion in the middle of his twelve-in-one Bagh-I Bihisht gardens at Samarkand. At his feet, the trustworthy Nasreddin. In front of them a large fountain with fresh red apples dancing in bubbling cool water. At this hour of counsel, the mighty Amir felt he could relax and have a pleasant choice – play chess by his own rules or bully the Hodja. He fancied doing the second. “You have no choice said he, but to place on your head the helmet of courage, and put on the armour of determination, bind on the sword of resolution, and like an alligator dive at once into the river of blood.” He paused for a long moment enjoying the breeze and the gentle playing of the red apples in the pool. Then he added, “...Or, to put on t