Secret of the saints

Renown breeds high expectations. This is poisonous credit. When people imagine they will behold miracles, whatever you do will disappoint them. Reject excessive praise if not by modesty, by prudence. But if it is too late to be humble, then shroud yourself in mystery and absence. This reminds me of a story:

At one fleeting period in time Nasreddin was a celebrated Sufi recluse. Since he was trying to find solitude and peace of mind, his hermit’s abode was of course assaulted, day and night, by an endless row of believers seeking the enlightenment of saintliness.

One afternoon came the turn of a young pilgrim who after respectfully pressing his face into the dust and his lips onto the reticent slippers of the master, implored to become a disciple.

“What do you want to learn from me?” enquired the Hodja.

“Your secret wisdom Sheikh! I will do anything to gain knowledge of your secret!”

At this, Nasreddin looked anxiously to right and to left and then whispered,

“Follow me! Shut the door too.”

Inside the hut, behind a curtain, Hodja asked in a very low voice:

“Are you at your delicate young age able to keep a secret?”

“I certainly am, without a doubt. My lips are sealed, silent like the tomb of Ali, peace be upon him. I am young, it is true, but worthy of your trust.”

“I see,” whispered Nasreddin, "so you understand the importance of withholding secrets?"

"I do, master," asserted the young man again.

"Then how can you imagine that, at my age and reputation, I am unable to keep my secrets?”