GURU NANAK, GOD HIMSELF!
There is a beautiful sakhi, story about Baba Ishar Singh Ji, which I read on the Internet. Baba Ishar Singh Ji was a very spiritually enlightened Gursikh of the twentieth century. Baba Ishar Singh Ji would go traveling. In particular he would like traveling to graveyards, because they are very quiet places and reminds one of death, which in away puts a perspective on our life and makes us realise reality of life that maya, our worldly possessions will not accompany us when we die.
On one of his travels, Baba Ishar Singh Ji came across a village graveyard (belonging to Muslims). Usually graveyards are somber and a bit dull because it is overshadowed with death and sadness. However this particular graveyard was different. The graveyard was well kept and looked more like a garden of life, rather than a cradle of death. It had shady trees and beautiful flowers.
It was mid-morning, Baba Ishar Singh Ji started looking closely at the tombstones and the graves. Each stone stated the person's name, the year of birth and instead of when they died, it said how many years they had lived. He was astonished to find, that most of the people buried in the graveyard had only lived just under twenty or so years. No stone could be found, which displayed more than thirty years of life. There were some gravestones, which displayed zero years of life lived.
Baba Ishar Singh Ji was curious, he thought he would explore this village. He thought, the village must be full of all old people and that the children must have either died of disease, or mass killing. However, the village had young people, old people and people of different ages. The villagers looked like very respectable and friendly people and carried a heavenly glow on their faces.
Baba Ishar Singh Ji approached some men. He lovingly asked, "Respected gentlemen, I have seen many places and many people but even at the most holiest of these places, I could not find the life and love that pervades this place. Perhaps I am in a dream." They all smiled. Baba Ji then continued, "I would very much like it, if you would kindly explain this rather strange place. I was also very intrigued by the graveyard at the entrance of the village. Is it where you bury your young ones?"
After a short pause, the most elderly man spoke: "Traveler, you look like a man who would benefit much from the story I am going to tell you. Listen carefully and it will change your life." All the men present, sat attentively. All the villagers within earshot, came and sat to hear the old man speak. He began, "My grandfather was the Kazi (holy Muslim man) of this village. Each morning, well before sunrise, he would call out to the people and to the heavens with his namaaz (Muslim call to prayer). One such morning he was in the midst of his prayer, when he heard music from the outskirts of the village. He was a devout Muslim and was quite horrified to hear music at such a holy hour. He immediately sent some of his followers to put an end to this paganism. But to his surprise, none of them came back. The music meanwhile continued. After a long wait, he himself decided to put an end to this unholy activity. So quite angrily, he strode towards the music. The closer he got, the more he realized that it wasn't his anger that was responsible for his hurried strides, rather it was the exquisite beauty in the music.
Finally, when he got close enough to see the music makers, not only did his body lose the ability to move, his mind too stopped the madman's dance, it had been doing since his birth. He literally stood rooted to a spot for the duration of the recital. The music cast a spell over him. He travelled inwards to subtle places he had read about only in the scriptures. He would often look back at that moment and dreamily acclaimed, "I drank life to the fullest during those hours".
There was a long pause, during which the storyteller and the story listeners let the stillness of the story enter the depths of their beings. The elderly man continued: "The music makers were the Great Guru Nanak Ji and his companion Mardana Ji. I am sure you have heard of him." I meekly nodded and mumbled, "I have, but haven't had the grace of meeting any of his followers".
"That is perhaps why my friend, you are here," the man prophetically said. "At the end of the recital, my grandfather and all the others present, simply surrendered themselves to the Guru. This was largely just a symbolic act, because the moment each of them had seen the Guru, they had lost themselves to him. Guru Nanak Ji graced this village for three days and three nights. My grandfather named those days the "days of stillness," because he said, it was during those days that he and others learnt about the One, which can only be found within the stillness of the mind. We observe those days like others observe their birthdays.
Indeed those days were the birthday of the village's inner life." He chuckled, "If you are impressed with the village now, you should see the love of the villagers in those fine days."
"But, as is the nature of the human mind," the elder soberly continued. "It wasn't long after Guru Nanak Ji's departure, that the village started returning to its normal numb and dark existence. This greatly troubled my grandfather and others like him, who had become Guru Nanak's and Guru Nanak's only. They tried very hard, through teaching and preaching, to keep the message of the Guru alive. Finally, after all normal means failed, they came up with the following village tradition, "Each villager keeps a diary."
It is mandatory that each night before sleep, each person makes an entry in the diary. Even children and people who cannot read or write have to get this entry made. The entry is simply the amount of time during the day, that was spent in Simran (remembrance of the Lord) or in Seva (selfless service). At the end of the person's life, the entries are accumulated and that my dear traveler, is the 'years of life' entry you see on the tombstones."
The storyteller paused, to let the magnitude of what he had told Baba Ishar Singh Ji sink into him. He continued, "It is perhaps that, which allows us to be free with our love. We are reminded each and every day what real life is. The time spent in Simran or Seva, is the only life we consider, as being worthy of being called life."
Let us ask the question how much Simran of Vaheguroo do we do? How much Seva do we do? Do we remember the One who created us, provided us with the Sun, we use to grow our food, the Air we use to breathe and a blessed life?
Guru Nanak Ji offered a simple formula for peace and happiness: Naam Japna (remembering the Dear Lord), Kirat Karni (living and earning an honest living) and Vand Shakna (sharing with others, whether that is your time, love, money or food).
ਜੀਵਨੋ ਮੈ ਜੀਵਨੁ ਪਾਇਆ ਗੁਰਮੁਖਿ ਭਾਏ ਰਾਮ ॥
Life - I have found real life, as Gurmukh, through His Love.
ਹਰਿ ਨਾਮੋ ਹਰਿ ਨਾਮੁ ਦੇਵੈ ਮੇਰੈ ਪ੍ਰਾਨਿ ਵਸਾਏ ਰਾਮ ॥
The Lord's Name - He has given me
the Lord's Name, and enshrined it within my breath of life.
Be inspired and inspire others.
Vaheguroo!
There is a beautiful sakhi, story about Baba Ishar Singh Ji, which I read on the Internet. Baba Ishar Singh Ji was a very spiritually enlightened Gursikh of the twentieth century. Baba Ishar Singh Ji would go traveling. In particular he would like traveling to graveyards, because they are very quiet places and reminds one of death, which in away puts a perspective on our life and makes us realise reality of life that maya, our worldly possessions will not accompany us when we die.
On one of his travels, Baba Ishar Singh Ji came across a village graveyard (belonging to Muslims). Usually graveyards are somber and a bit dull because it is overshadowed with death and sadness. However this particular graveyard was different. The graveyard was well kept and looked more like a garden of life, rather than a cradle of death. It had shady trees and beautiful flowers.
It was mid-morning, Baba Ishar Singh Ji started looking closely at the tombstones and the graves. Each stone stated the person's name, the year of birth and instead of when they died, it said how many years they had lived. He was astonished to find, that most of the people buried in the graveyard had only lived just under twenty or so years. No stone could be found, which displayed more than thirty years of life. There were some gravestones, which displayed zero years of life lived.
Baba Ishar Singh Ji was curious, he thought he would explore this village. He thought, the village must be full of all old people and that the children must have either died of disease, or mass killing. However, the village had young people, old people and people of different ages. The villagers looked like very respectable and friendly people and carried a heavenly glow on their faces.
Baba Ishar Singh Ji approached some men. He lovingly asked, "Respected gentlemen, I have seen many places and many people but even at the most holiest of these places, I could not find the life and love that pervades this place. Perhaps I am in a dream." They all smiled. Baba Ji then continued, "I would very much like it, if you would kindly explain this rather strange place. I was also very intrigued by the graveyard at the entrance of the village. Is it where you bury your young ones?"
After a short pause, the most elderly man spoke: "Traveler, you look like a man who would benefit much from the story I am going to tell you. Listen carefully and it will change your life." All the men present, sat attentively. All the villagers within earshot, came and sat to hear the old man speak. He began, "My grandfather was the Kazi (holy Muslim man) of this village. Each morning, well before sunrise, he would call out to the people and to the heavens with his namaaz (Muslim call to prayer). One such morning he was in the midst of his prayer, when he heard music from the outskirts of the village. He was a devout Muslim and was quite horrified to hear music at such a holy hour. He immediately sent some of his followers to put an end to this paganism. But to his surprise, none of them came back. The music meanwhile continued. After a long wait, he himself decided to put an end to this unholy activity. So quite angrily, he strode towards the music. The closer he got, the more he realized that it wasn't his anger that was responsible for his hurried strides, rather it was the exquisite beauty in the music.
Finally, when he got close enough to see the music makers, not only did his body lose the ability to move, his mind too stopped the madman's dance, it had been doing since his birth. He literally stood rooted to a spot for the duration of the recital. The music cast a spell over him. He travelled inwards to subtle places he had read about only in the scriptures. He would often look back at that moment and dreamily acclaimed, "I drank life to the fullest during those hours".
There was a long pause, during which the storyteller and the story listeners let the stillness of the story enter the depths of their beings. The elderly man continued: "The music makers were the Great Guru Nanak Ji and his companion Mardana Ji. I am sure you have heard of him." I meekly nodded and mumbled, "I have, but haven't had the grace of meeting any of his followers".
"That is perhaps why my friend, you are here," the man prophetically said. "At the end of the recital, my grandfather and all the others present, simply surrendered themselves to the Guru. This was largely just a symbolic act, because the moment each of them had seen the Guru, they had lost themselves to him. Guru Nanak Ji graced this village for three days and three nights. My grandfather named those days the "days of stillness," because he said, it was during those days that he and others learnt about the One, which can only be found within the stillness of the mind. We observe those days like others observe their birthdays.
Indeed those days were the birthday of the village's inner life." He chuckled, "If you are impressed with the village now, you should see the love of the villagers in those fine days."
"But, as is the nature of the human mind," the elder soberly continued. "It wasn't long after Guru Nanak Ji's departure, that the village started returning to its normal numb and dark existence. This greatly troubled my grandfather and others like him, who had become Guru Nanak's and Guru Nanak's only. They tried very hard, through teaching and preaching, to keep the message of the Guru alive. Finally, after all normal means failed, they came up with the following village tradition, "Each villager keeps a diary."
It is mandatory that each night before sleep, each person makes an entry in the diary. Even children and people who cannot read or write have to get this entry made. The entry is simply the amount of time during the day, that was spent in Simran (remembrance of the Lord) or in Seva (selfless service). At the end of the person's life, the entries are accumulated and that my dear traveler, is the 'years of life' entry you see on the tombstones."
The storyteller paused, to let the magnitude of what he had told Baba Ishar Singh Ji sink into him. He continued, "It is perhaps that, which allows us to be free with our love. We are reminded each and every day what real life is. The time spent in Simran or Seva, is the only life we consider, as being worthy of being called life."
Let us ask the question how much Simran of Vaheguroo do we do? How much Seva do we do? Do we remember the One who created us, provided us with the Sun, we use to grow our food, the Air we use to breathe and a blessed life?
Guru Nanak Ji offered a simple formula for peace and happiness: Naam Japna (remembering the Dear Lord), Kirat Karni (living and earning an honest living) and Vand Shakna (sharing with others, whether that is your time, love, money or food).
ਜੀਵਨੋ ਮੈ ਜੀਵਨੁ ਪਾਇਆ ਗੁਰਮੁਖਿ ਭਾਏ ਰਾਮ ॥
Life - I have found real life, as Gurmukh, through His Love.
ਹਰਿ ਨਾਮੋ ਹਰਿ ਨਾਮੁ ਦੇਵੈ ਮੇਰੈ ਪ੍ਰਾਨਿ ਵਸਾਏ ਰਾਮ ॥
The Lord's Name - He has given me
the Lord's Name, and enshrined it within my breath of life.
Be inspired and inspire others.
Vaheguroo!