The master said:   
"When we sense that the time has come for a change, we begin -- unconsciously -- to run the tape again, to view every defeat we have experienced until then.   

"And, of course, as we grow older, our number of difficult moments grows larger.  But, at the same time, experience provides us with better means of overcoming those defeats, and of finding the path that allows us to go forward.  We have to play that second tape on our mental VCR, too.   

"If we only watch the tape of our defeats, we become paralyzed.  If we only watch the tape of our successes, we wind up thinking we are wiser than we really are.   

"We need both of those tapes."

The disciple said to his master:   

"I have spent most of the day thinking about things I should not be thinking about, desiring things I should not desire and making plans I should not be making."   

The master invited the disciple to take a walk with him through the forest behind his house.  Along the way, he pointed to a plant, and asked the disciple if he knew its name.   

"Belladonna," said the disciple.  "It can kill anyone who eats its leaves."   

"But it cannot kill anyone who simply observes it," said the master.

"Likewise, negative desires can cause no evil if you do not allow yourself to be seduced by them."

Between France and Spain is a range of mountains.  In one of those mountains, there is a village named Argeles, and in the village is a hill leading to the valley.   

Every afternoon, an old man climbs and descends the hill.  When the wanderer went to Argeles for the first time, he was not aware of this.  On his second visit, he noticed that he crossed paths with the same man.  And every time he went to the village, he perceived the man in greater detail -- his clothing, his beret, his cane, his glasses.  Nowadays, whenever he thinks about that village, he thinks of the old man, as well -- even though he is not aware that this is true.   

Only once did the wanderer ever speak to the man.  In a joking fashion, he asked the man, "Do you think that God lives in these beautiful mountains surrounding us?"   

"God lives," said the old man, "in those places where they allow Him to enter."

The master met one night with his disciples, and asked them to build a campfire so they could sit and talk.

"The spiritual path is like a fire that burns before us," he said.  "A man who wants to light the fire has to bear with the disagreeable smoke that makes it difficult for him to breathe, and brings tears to his eyes.  That is how his faith is rediscovered.   

However, once the fire is rekindled, the smoke disappears, and the flames illuminate everything around him -- providing heat and tranquility."   

"But what if someone else lights the fire for him?" asked one of the disciples.  "And if someone helps us to avoid the smoke?"   

"If someone does that, he is a false master.  A master capable of taking the fire to wherever he desires, or of extinguishing it whenever he wants to do so.  And, since he has taught no one how to light the fire, he is likely to leave everyone in the darkness."

"When you strike out along your path, you will find a door with a phrase written upon it," says the master.  "Come back to me, and tell me what the phrase says."   

The disciple gives himself to the search, body and soul, and one day comes upon the door, and then returns to his master.   "What was written there was 'THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE,' he says."   

"Was that written on a wall or on a door?" the master asks.   

"On a door," the disciple answers.   "Well, then, put your hand on the doorknob and open it."

The disciple obeyed.  Since the phrase was painted with the door, it gave way just as the door itself did.  With the door completely open, he could no longer see the phrase -- and he went on.

The master says:   

"Close your eyes.  Or even with your eyes open, imagine the following scene: a flock of birds on the wing.  Now, tell me how many birds you saw: Five?  Eleven?  Sixteen?"   

Whatever the response -- and it is difficult for someone to say how many birds were seen -- one thing becomes quite clear in this small experiment.  You can imagine a flock of birds, but the number of birds in the flock is beyond your control.  Yet the scene was clear, well-defined, exact.  There must be an answer to the question.     

Who was it that determined how many birds should appear in the imagined scene?  Not you!

A man decided to visit a hermit who, he had been told, lived not far from the monastery at Sceta.  After wandering aimlessly about the desert, he finally found the monk.   

"I need to know what is the first step that should be taken along the spiritual path," he said.

The hermit took the man to a small well, and told him to look at his reflection in the water.  The man tried to do so, but as he made his attempt, the hermit threw pebbles into the water, causing the surface to be disturbed.   

"I won't be able to see my face in the water if you keep throwing those pebbles," said the man.

"Just as it is impossible for a man to see his face in troubled waters, it is also impossible to seek God if one's mind is anxious about the search," said the monk.  "That is the first step!"

During the period when the wanderer was practicing Zen meditation, his master, one day
went to one corner of the dojo (the site where his disciples congregated), and returned with a bamboo switch.  Some of his students -- those who had not been able to concentrate well -- raised their hand.  The master approached each of them and delivered three blows with the switch on each shoulder.

When he saw this for the first time, the wanderer regarded it as medieval and absurd.  Later, he understood that it is often necessary to transfer spiritual pain to the physical plane in order to perceive the evil that it creates.  On the road to Santiago, he had learned an exercise that involved the digging of the nail of his index finger into the skin of his thumb whenever he had thoughts that were critical of himself.   

The terrible consequences of negative thoughts are perceived only much later.  But by allowing such thoughts to manifest themselves as physical pain, we are able to understand the damage they cause.  And then we are able to banish them.

A 32 year old patient sought out the therapist, Richard Crowley. 

"I cannot stop sucking my thumb," he complained.   

"Don't be too concerned about that," Crowley told him.  "But suck on a different finger each day."   

The patient tried to do as instructed.  But each time he brought his hand to his mouth, he had to make a conscious choice as to which finger should be the object of his attention that day.  Before the week was over, the habit was cured.   

"When a vice becomes a habit, it is difficult to deal with," Richard Crowley says.  "But when it requires of us that we develop new attitudes, make new decisions and choices, we become aware that it is not worth the effort."

In ancient Rome, a group of soothsayers known as the Sybils wrote nine books that forecasted the future of the Roman empire.  They took the books to Tiberius.

"How much do they cost?" asked the Roman emperor.

"One hundred pieces of gold," answered the Sybils.

Tiberius angrily banished them from his sight. 

The Sybils burned three of the books, and returned.  "They still cost one hundr
> pieces of gold," they told Tiberius.

Tiberius laughed and refused: why would he pay for six books what nine of them had cost?

The Sybils burned three more books, and returned with the remaining three.  "The price is still one hundred pieces of gold," they said. 

Tiberius, consumed with curiosity, decided to pay.  But he was able to read only a part of the future of his empire.

The master says:

"It is an important part of living not to bargain when presented with opportunities."