Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time, there was a man who, through of a chain of unfortunate events, found that he had nothing to eat. 

He decided to swallow his pride and beg for food. 

He went to his neighbor’s house and presented a tin cup, the only cup he had, which his neighbor graciously filled it with rice. 

He went back to his hut and happily ate the rice, but the cup was small, and he was still hungry. 

He thought of the rich man who lived on the other side of town. He had passed by the windows of the great house and seen feasts laid upon the tables. He thought, maybe I will have better luck there. He resolved to go there first thing in the morning.

As soon as he awoke, he picked up his cup and walked to the house. After he knocked, well-dressed servants opened the door. The man explained his situation, and they swiftly returned the cup brimming with rice and lentils. 

He sat in the shade and concentrated on his breakfast. The food disappeared quickly, and in a few minutes, he felt hungry again.

The man said to himself, “the king has lots of food… orchards, vineyards, and buildings full of grain. Surely the king will be able to satisfy my hunger.” The man walked and walked. He arrived just as the servants were closing the palace gate for the night. 

“Wait!” the man pleaded. “I have walked all day.”

They returned his cup full of delicious food dripping with savory sauces. 

He sat in the dust by the gate, tipped the cup to his lips, and ate swiftly. Night was falling, and he realized that he was still so very, very hungry. 

Now he was angry. He thought, “the gods have all the food in all the worlds. They should definitely have enough food for me.” 

The man prayed and prayed. He prayed with such intensity that none other than Indra appeared before him. The man prostrated before the towering, shining figure.

“What boon do you seek?” the god asked in a voice that shook like thunder. 

“O great Indra! I went to my neighbor. I went to the rich man. I went to the king. You are king of the gods. Only you can satisfy my hunger!” 

Indra smiled. He seemed to understand the man’s intense hunger. He spoke kindly yet firmly. 

“My child, all of these people had plenty of food for you. The problem is the size of your cup!” 

The man is this story is like many of us. In our spiritual hunger, we find fault in our spiritual teachers, when actually we need to make our cups larger: increase our capacity to be selfless, centered, and purified. When we let go of anger, jealousy, and fear, we make space for who we want to become. Make your heart bigger, and the Divine will fill it; that is the law of karma.

According to karma, we get the teacher that we deserve. If we are imperfect, then why would we deserve a perfect teacher? To expect otherwise is like the child who complains that her kindergarten teacher isn’t Einstein. First she must patiently learn her ABCs, practice long division and then calculus, and when she is ready, the appropriate teacher will appear. 

One of my teachers wrote in his autobiography about coming to his guru’s ashram as a young man. There he met a young woman, and they began a romantic relationship. In time, he learned that she was having sex with the guru. 

He almost left. I think I would have left. But, for whatever reasons, he stayed, and because he stayed, he became a spiritual master himself. Eventually he was contacted by his new guru, one of the great sages of our age. He got his perfect teacher, but only after many years of incredibly hard and selfless work.

I have had many spiritual teachers, great and small. The teacher from whom I have learned the most isn’t a guru or even someone who likes yoga. It is my wife, who is quick to point out when I am acting selfish or unaware. I might joke about it, but truthfully I am grateful for her spiritual lessons.

All I can do is be diligent in my practice, and slowly increase my spiritual capacity. I don’t understand why so many masters have done seemingly terrible things. But there is beautiful wisdom I can learn from the teachers I have. Even imperfect teachers fill cups to overflowing.

Story and blog post by Mark Johnson (Rishi)