There was a Spanish king who was very proud of his lineage.  He was also know to be cruel to those who were weak.  He was walking one day with his senior people through a field in Aragon, where, years before, his father had fallen in battle.  They came upon a holy man there, picking through an enormous pile of bones.

"What are you doing there?" asked the king.

"All honor to Your Majesty," said the holy man.  "When I learned that the king of Spain was coming here, I decided to recover the bones of your father to give them to you.  But no matter how hard I look, I cannot find them.  They are the same as the bones of the farmers, the poor, the beggars and the slaves."

"Who is the best swordsman?" asked a warrior of his master.

"Go to the field near the monastery," his master answered.  "There is a rock there.  I want you to insult the rock."

"But why would I do that?" the disciple asked.  "The rock will not respond."

"Well, then attack it with your sword," the master said.

"I won't do that, either," the disciple answered.  "My sword would break.  And if I attack the rock with my hands, I'll injure my fingers and have no impact on it.  That wasn't what I asked.  Who is the best swordsman?"

"The best is the one who is like the rock," said his master.  "Without unsheathing a sword, it demonstrates that no one can conquer it."

The wanderer arrives at the village of San Martin de Unx, in Navarra, and is able to find the woman who keeps the key to the Roman church in the ruined place.  With great kindness, she climbs the narrow stairs and opens the door.

The darkness and the silence of the medieval temple have an emotional impact on the wanderer.  He falls into conversation with the woman, and as they talk, mentions that, althoth it is mid-day, little can be seen of the beautiful works of art there in the church.

"The detail can be seen only at dawn," the woman says.  "The legend says that it was this that the builders of the church wanted to teach us: that God has a particular time for showing us His glory."

The master says:

"There are two gods.  The god that our professors taught us about, and the God who teaches us.  The god of whom people always speak, and the God that speaks to us.  The god we have learned to fear, and the God who speaks to us of compassion.

"There are two gods.  The god who is on high, and the God who takes part in our daily lives.  The god who makes demands upon us, and the God who pardons our debts.  The god who threatens us with the fires of Hell, and the God who shows us the best path.

"There are two gods.  A god who crushes us under our sins, and a God who liberates us with His love."

The sculptor, Michelangelo, was once asked how it was that he could create such beautiful works.

"It's very simple," he answered.  "When I look at a block of marble, I see the sculpture inside it.  All I have to do is remove what doesn't belong."

The master says:

"There is a work of art each of us was destined to create.  That is the central point of our life, and -- no matter how we try to deceive ourselves -- we know how important it is to our happiness.  Usually, that work of art is covered by years of fears, guilt and indecision.  But, if we decide to remove those things that do not belong, if we have no doubt as to our capability, we are capable of going forward with the mission that is our destiny.  That is the only way to live with honor."

An old man who is about to die calls a young man to his side and tells him a story of heroism: in wartime, he had helped a man to survive.  He provided the man with shelter, food and protection.  When the man who had been saved was once again in a safe place, he decided to betray his saviour and turn him over to the enemy.

"How did you escape?" the young man asked

"I didn't escape.  I was the betrayer," said the old man.  "But in telling the story as if I were the hero, I can understand everything he did for me."

The master says:

"We all need love.  Love is a part of human nature, as much as eating, drinking and sleeping.  Sometimes we find ourselves, completely alone, looking at a beautiful sunset, and we think: 'This beauty isn't important, because I have no one to share it with.'

"At such times, we should ask: how often have we been asked to give love, and turned away?  How many times have we been fearful of  approaching someone and saying, unmistakably, that we love them?

"Beware of solitude.  It is as much of an addiction as the most dangerous narcotic.  If the sunset no longer makes sense to you, be humble, and go in search of love.  Know that -- as with other spiritual blessings -- the more you are willing to give, the more you will receive in return."

A Spanish missionary was visiting an island when he came upon three Aztec holy men.

"How do you pray?" the padre asked.

"We have only one prayer," one of the Aztecs answered.  "We say, 'God, you are three and we are three.  Have pity on us.'"

"I'm going to teach you a prayer that God will hear," said the missionary.  And he taught them a Catholic prayer, and went on his way.  Shortly before returning to Spain, he stopped again at the same island.

When his ship approached the shore, the padre saw the three holy men walking across the water toward him.

"Father, father," one of them said.  "Please teach us again that prayer that God listens to.  We have forgotten the words."

"It's not important," the padre answered, having witnessed the miracle.  And he asked God's pardon for not having understood that He speaks all languages.

Saint John of the Cross teaches us that, along our spiritual path, we should not look for visions, or believe the statements we hear from others on the same path.  Our only support should be our faith, because that faith is clear, transparent and born within us.  It cannot confused.

A writer was conversing with a priest, and asked what it was to experience God.  "I don't know," the priest answered.  "The only experience I have had so far is the experience of my faith in God."

And that is the most important.

The master says:

"Forgiveness is a two-way street.  Each time we forgive someone, we are also pardoning ourselves.  If we are tolerant of others, it is easier to accept our own mistakes.  That way, without guilt or bitterness, we are able to improve our approach to life.

"When, out of weakness, we allow hatred, envy and intolerance to vibrate around us, we wind up being consumed by the vibrations. 

"Peter asked Christ: 'Master, should I forgive the other person seven times?'  And Christ answered: 'Not just seven, but seventy times.'

"The act of forgiving cleanses the astral plane, and shows us the true light of the Divinity."