While he worked, the boy spoke to the old man about his wishes for the future. He understood very little about the world, but he wanted to learn. He wanted to discover who he was and to find answers to life’s biggest mysteries. He was going to be a man soon and wanted to know more about love. He said he often daydreamed about the wonderful things yet to come.
“Most days,” the boy laughed, “I’m not sure if I’m dreaming or if I’m awake!” The boy talked on, and the old man listened in silence.
Within an hour, the job was done. The wheel was set securely in its place, and the wagon was back on the road. The old man, filled with gratitude, searched through his pockets for a few coins. Finding nothing to offer the boy for his work, he asked him if he would accept three pearls of wisdom instead, assuring him that the pearls would provide more riches than any coins. As the sun pierced through rushing storm clouds, the boy smiled. He knew he could not refuse the man’s gratitude, however it was offered. And, after all, he had much to learn.
“Yes,” answered the boy politely. “I am truly honored that you would share your wisdom with me, sir.”
So the old man leaned toward him and began to speak.
“To find your way in this world you need only answer three questions,” the old man explained. “First, you must ask yourself: ‘Who am I?’ You will know who you are when you see who you are not.
“Second, you must ask yourself: ‘What is real?’ You will know what is real when you accept what is not real.
“Third,” the man finished, “you must ask yourself: ‘What is love?’ You will know love when you realize what love is not.”
The old man straightened himself, brushing flecks of mud off his coat. The boy removed his hat respectfully and expressed his thanks. He watched the old man climb onto his wagon and whistle to his horse. The wagon lurched, shuddered, and then began to rattle down the road.
As the boy turned toward home, where supper was waiting, he glanced back to see the back of the wagon disappear among the evening shadows.
SIMPLE STORIES INVITE us to reflect on our own lives. One way or another, they represent everyone’s story. If a story is good, it has the power to inspire questions and encourage us to look for answers. If a story is very good, it can get under our skin and dare us to see the truth. It can open new doors of perception. These stories leave us a choice: to be challenged by the truth or to close the door and continue walking a familiar path.
This book is for those who are willing to see the truth of themselves. It is for those willing to ask what is real and to go through unfamiliar doors. Life is eager to begin a new conversation with you. If you’re willing to listen and to change, your world can be transformed.
We humans are what we are today because of the way our nervous system has responded to light over millions of years. Our brains have become intricate, our capabilities diverse, and our societies complex. We’ve certainly made our mark on this planet. And yet, if we were asked what we had to show for humanity’s years of evolution, what would we say?
Would we say that we’re free of worry and conflict? Would we say we finally understand how to be the best humans we can be? It would be wonderful to say that our beliefs no longer drive us to do terrible things. It would be great to say that our minds no longer wage their internal wars. It would be nice to say that humans have become far too wise to turn against each other. It would be nice to say that about our species, but we cannot—not yet, at least.
In an ideal world, humans get along with each other for their own benefit and for the benefit of humanity. In an ideal community, people cooperate in order to prosper, and they appreciate their good fortune. They value life and care for the land that nurtures them. Ideally, they respect themselves and everyone else.
In an ideal family, children are made to feel safe and appreciated. Parents are inspired teachers and vigilant protectors. The elderly continue to be productive. Groups of people form societies, of course, but no society tries to undermine any other. Together, they build greater communities, and together they ensure the well-being of every citizen.
In this world of our imagination, governments may still exist. An ideal government presides over a country with respect. Its leaders are wise and farseeing. The best possible congress is one that legislates with conscience and compassion. Its laws are clear and just—and the rules apply to everyone.
In this ideal world, people are also able to govern themselves justly. What does it mean to govern ourselves? It means we are in charge of our own thoughts and responsible for our own actions. We refuse to walk blindly through life. We see exactly what is and not merely what we prefer to see. We don’t permit the past to take command of the present. We view our personal reality the way a great artist would—with an eye for beauty and balance.
In an ideal world, we don’t punish ourselves repeatedly for one mistake. We don’t indulge in self-pity. We don’t manipulate emotions. We don’t gossip or seek out drama.
In an ideal world, we have no desire to judge or to blame. We are not defeated by guilt and shame, nor do we inflict shame on anyone else. In other words, we govern ourselves in the same way we want to be governed: with respect.
There is much more we could say about that ideal world, but it’s important to consider why this world doesn’t actually exist for most of us. Helping the world move toward its ideal expression is too great a task for a small book, but we can take the first steps on our own. Everything we build together as human beings begins with a little imagination. We may believe we are tragic victims of circumstance, but with imagination we can take another perspective and see how unkindly we treat ourselves. With all its thoughts and judgments, the mind may seem like our worst adversary, but by imagining the mind differently, we can make it our ally. By modifying the way our minds work we can begin to change our world.
We all have fears we won’t admit to ourselves, and we’re not always sure how to overcome them. We need love, but we’re not convinced we deserve it. We want to love ourselves, but we don’t know how. To one degree or another, there is chaos and confusion in each of us. Ideas take hold, and opinions intimidate. We get caught up in our own drama and take it all so seriously. We play roles that don’t reflect the truth of what we are.
Why do we do this to ourselves? The answer is that we were shown how, and we became masters at it.
Everyone is born an authentic being, but it is hard to remain authentic in a world where beliefs have already been assigned to us. As infants and children, we are told who we are, how we should behave, and how to respond to what we perceive. This is how families and cultures function most effectively and how children survive within their cultures. But that doesn’t mean these lessons are rooted in reality. You could say that our early training teaches us to deceive ourselves. We learn to lie.
Life is truth, and only life exists. By using words to describe the truth, we automatically distort it. So a lie is simply a distortion of the truth. There may be no malice intended, but we still use lies against ourselves and against each other.
We all know how little kids say the funniest things—funny, because they speak the truth as they perceive it, without judgment. Honest insights, plainly spoken, sound pretty shocking to adult ears. Why? In many cultures, stating an obvious truth is considered impolite. Honesty and authenticity are sometimes thought to be childlike qualities. At times, they might even be considered crazy. Most of us have learned to lie about what we see and how we feel. By the time we’ve reached adulthood, we’ve even learned to believe our lies.
Growing up, we develop strong minds, but minds can become corrupted. We form strong