I want to thank some people, and tell how valued they are for me by being who they are, making efforts to sharing their gifts all over the world, keeping me motivated from the other corners of world, remind me the beauty of human, show me what is the capacity of body, getting me excited to be in the same time with them, helping me to believe the world is worth place to live, shortly; fulfilling the all needs of an aesthete. Human angels! They bring the bit of heaven into the earth. Thank you thousand times.
Here is three of them: Kino MacGregor , Susie Vanessa Yoga and Erika Lemay
May I/you be filled with love and abundance.
Sozan, the Chinese Zen master known for his poetry and calligraphy, was about to start a talk with his students. Just then, a student asked him, “Teacher, what is the most valuable thing in the world?”
Without any hesitation, Sozan responded, “A dead cat’s head.”
The student was baffled. Perhaps his Master hadn’t heard the question correctly. He repeated the question.
“Master, I asked, what is the most valuable thing in the world?”
Again Sozan promptly replied, “A dead cat’s head.”
By this time, all of Sozan’s students were puzzled.
“Why is a dead cat’s head the most valuable thing in the world?” a student inquired.
Sozan simply said, “Because no one can name its price!”
Does the demand and use of an object determines its true value?
Once a division of the Japanese army was engaged in a sham battle, and some of the officers found it necessary to make their headquarters in Gasan’s temple.
Gasan told his cook: “Let the officers have only the same simple fare we eat.”
This made the army men angry, as they were used to very deferential treatment. One came to Gasan and said: “Who do you think we are? We are soldiers, sacrificing our lives for our country. Why don’t you treat us accordingly?”
Gasan answered sternly: “Who do you think we are? We are soldiers of humanity, aiming to save all sentient beings.”
Joshu began the study of Zen when he was sixty years old and continued until he was eighty, when he realised Zen. He taught from the age of eighty until he was one hundred and twenty. A student once asked him: “If I haven’t anything in my mind, what shall I do?” Joshu replied: “Throw it out.” “But if I haven’t anything, how can I throw it out?” continued the questioner. “Well,” said Joshu, “then carry it out.”