The Shepherd’s Boy and the Wolf

The Shepherd’s Boy and the Wolf

A Shepherd-boy, who watched a flock of sheep near a village, brought out the villagers three or four times by crying out, “Wolf! Wolf!” and when his neighbors came to help him, laughed at them for their pains. The Wolf, however, did truly come at last. The Shepherd-boy, now really alarmed, shouted in an agony of terror: “Pray, do come and help me; the Wolf is killing the sheep”; but no one paid any heed to his cries, nor rendered any assistance. The Wolf, having no cause of fear, at his leisure lacerated or destroyed the whole flock.

There is no believing a liar, even when he speaks the truth.

 

This well known little tale – we apply it to other people. A colleague calls in sick all the time, and when they get real sick nobody believes them. Etc.

 

But it bites a bit, when it comes to ourselves, because we all have to lie at times. Subsequently we don’t know if other people ended up guessing the truth.

  • When someone don’t come in the end, we’re a bit bitter, but so there, right?
  • Maybe we had to lie : to protect them? From what?
  • Or to hide a bigger lie?
  • Or because we want or need the other one to not believe us ever again?
  • Or maybe they come and we think they didn’t get it the first time but in fact they knew we lied from the beginning and they now hide their intentions, good or bad?
  • What if a villager comes at last, understanding that the little boy lied by stupidity, youthful mistake – and really deserves help now? Maybe he’ll understand the lesson but in a more empathetic way?
  • What is the cost of unmasking a liar?
  • Who are those who dare to say they never, ever lie?
  • How stupid is the shepherd-boy, to call villagers like that? A prank?
  • The villagers who don’t come, is it because they now think it’s a prank, or by revenge?
  • What about this story about pretty little lies? And with big dramatic ones?
  • Examples?

 

Thanks for reading!

 

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Fear Le Glabru!

The Glabru lives in the attic, he enters at night and make pens ink on stuffs and he torns notebooks rip rip, he puts nails or snails in the shoes and makes knots in woolballs, picks an ember in the fire and puts it on the carpet. He goes also in the kitchen, sours the milk or butter, spoils fruits by putting his fingers into them and spits frog’s spit into the soup.

At night some children sometimes hear the Glabru calling the other Glabrus in other houses with a owly oooh oooh, then they’re talking sitting in a row on a branch they talk about naugthies and sillies to make, and they tell each other the name of kids to teasebother.

Some days things are lost, they break, and the rain falls when it shouldn’t, and stuff trips you and you bang your head on wood beams.

When a Glabru comes noboby hears it but only a few little girls who can protect others with this rhyme :

Glabru je t’ai eu je te croque au sel je te mange cru Glabru lanturlu

Glabru I got you I crunch you with salt I eat you raw Glabru lanturlu

 

 

 

Freely adapted from Claude Roy (Permis de séjour)

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Roger Dean

Buddha’s Tooth

A Tibetan mother was a devout buddhist, she had a son who traveled regularly for business.

Before a trip the son was going to take to India, his mother asked him to bring her back something that she could use as a symbol of devotion, to help her progress in her spiritual practice. India was the place, after all, where the Buddha himself had lived!

The son went to India and forgot to get her anything. So before the next trip she asked him again. And again he went, and forgot to bring her anything.

When he was about to go to India again, his mother told her son that he will watch his own mother die right before his own eyes if he fails to bring her something from India that she could use on her spiritual path.

While ending his trip, the son was about to leave when he remembered what his mother asked of him, and so he quickly looked around for something that he could give her. He saw a dead dog by the side of the road : he pulled out a tooth from the dead dog’s mouth, washed it in a puddle, and wrapped it in a very beautiful silk tissue.

When he returned from India, he pulled out the tooth and showed it to her, saying that he was very fortunate to have been able to get her a tooth from the body of the Buddha himself. She took the tooth and placed it in a place of worship, filled with deep and sincere reverence for what her son had given her.

She was able to generate so much love, devotion and compassion because of her belief in the Buddha’s tooth that she became enlightened.

 

Thanks for reading!

 

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Hmmm?

 

The tale of us falling off horse

Hi sorry L&G my French is a wind it blows into my English I need more coffee.

There’s this little tale who says that if you fall off your horse it makes sense : who knows where your horse would have taken you?

Then you think you might have made in on purpose… without knowing it. Your unconsciousness did it.

“Why did you do that, silly?”

Maybe it was the wrong horse
or maybe the good horse going too fast/slow
or maybe going along an unknown and frightening path…

Maybe also you were on your high horse and an invisible hand pushed you out off from it. So there! Bim! Bien fait!

I think that when we metaphorically fall off horse (we’re hurt we don’t know what to do anymore we’re slow) we made in on purpose.

Owner inner guts felt something – and said stop. STOP JFTC!

We put ourselves in blocked or slowed situation just to protect ourselves.

Then we talk about Amor Fati…

You got ill or you unconsciously provoked your accident to prevent something you were afraid of?

Or nope, “it was complete random”.

But it’s better to think it’s not, right? It’s something strange to imagine your guts did it for you, to slow you down, to prevent us from… acting.

At 16 I got a disease which harmed my heart, my kidneys, and blocked me from society for at least 6 months…

Allez. Go climb back on your horseback. If it’s around.

If it’s galloping in the far, go by walk, buy a car, find another horse, steal one, or sit your arse in front of the mountain, the sunrise comes it’s orange.

Sing, and listen to winds…

Have a nice day!

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The Hummingbird Tale

Pierre Rabhi is a French author who likes to tell the legend of the hummingbird, which I would tell like this :

Once upon a time an immense forest fire was watched by all the terrified and powerless animals. There was also a tiny hummingbird flying from a small pond to the fire, each time sparkling a few drops into the flame with its beak, and then again and again. The animals cried out “Hey you little fool, it’s not with your drops that you are going to stop the fire!”. To which the hummingbird replied, “Could be, but I do my part”.

La Légende du Colibri

#clouds