The master was struggling to meditate
The master, by all accounts, was a good teacher. Years before, when she had attended the school, she learned from her master. He had been a master that's most famous for throwing bottles with messages into the ocean. When he retired be convinced the school the hire her as his replacement. She had now passed on the lessons he gave her to many others and new lessons as well.
Some of the lessons she shared were her own. She wished to teach her students to observe the world. They should observe the Many world years before she had started a lesson that had become her signature lesson; she would find an object in the village and bring that to class. She would ask the students where she had found the object.
Roadmaster often said listen not just to hear but also to listen to connect. And she had to connect to her heart and based her lessons on the concept of connection. And so, each Monday, she would bring an object into the class that she had found in the village. And each week, the students would work walking the village discussing amongst themselves until they found where that object had come from and would tell the teacher. She would smile, not her head, and the students would then place the object back the way you have been. Teaching was her life.
Lately, however, the teacher had been struggling. The monkey brain had interrupted her meditation over and over again. She thought back often to the lessons her master had given her. But found no solace there. Sitting in her room preparing lessons for the next day and trying to prepare to meditate, the master was frustrated. For three weeks, the monkey brain had taken over. Meditation once achieved was fleeting and small. The master was frustrated, and for whatever reason, on this Sunday evening, before Monday, she thought back to her old master. Harold master was retiring; he asked the school to replace him with his star pupil. They agreed that is how she became a master. Her master had chosen her to replace him. On the last day the master was teaching, he came to the classroom with a box.
He called each student up one by one and handed them the sealed bottle. Just like the ones he threw in the ocean. There will come a time, the old master said, when you will be frustrated when you will be struggling. I will likely no longer be here for you to come to and talk to. Then is when you reach for this bottle and crack the wax seal. This is my last gift to each of you: a message and a bottle.
In the bottle was a message
As that memory floods around her, the master realized that she had been staring at the bottle. She walked over to the shelf where it had been for many years now and pulled it down. Peeling the wax off, she gently shook the old paper out of the bottle. She recognized the loving script Earl master. And gently unfolding the paper, she found a message. The message was to leave no stone unturned.
The master slipped into a quiet reflection of the phrase and the bomb. The monkey brain faded away. In the morning, after meditating and resting, the master smiled for the one thing she had learned: all lessons may be taught, all lessons may be spoken, but only those lessons that live resonate.
She went does was her tradition on her Monday morning walk. As always, her goal was to find something unusual. Something different to bring back to her class. As she walked, she thought of the piece of paper, and the message from her old master leave no stone unturned. Perhaps for the first time, she saw a clear stack grouping of five rocks for the hundredth time. Rocks were not naturally in that formation.
You noted the location of the wrongs and also the formation. And then carefully took the five rocks and with the middle pocket. That morning as the class wandered into the room, they saw the five rocks. Now the five rocks were not ordered and the way they were in the village. They lay about 6 inches apart on the desk. She then told her class of her struggles and meditation. And of opening the bottle of her old master. And then she said of the lesson left on the paper in the bottle. Leave no stone unturned. With that, the master sat down quietly. Students pondered both the story and the fact that their master had struggled with meditation. For each of them also, at times, struggled with meditation as we all do.
They walked up as a group began turning the stones. They quickly noticed that one side had small, like information on each rock. The other side did not tell them that one side of the rock was facing up with lichens on the other side was down to the ground. They also noted that some of the rocks had much smaller groupings of lichen. They quickly stacked the rocks in the formation they had been in the village. The master smiled for the lesson it hit home. Leave no stone unturned. Looking at the students then she said, where were these stones in the village? And as was there want the students drifted away and over the week remember where the stones were. As was the tradition, they carried them to where they had been in place them as they had been.
This content is accurate and true to the best of the author’s knowledge and is not meant to substitute for formal and individualized advice from a qualified professional.
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