Where is God?

[vcindiana]

There is a touching episode in the book Mortal Lessons by Richard Selzer . It is a brief postoperative discussion which transpires between Selzer and a young couple.
I stand by the bed where a young woman lies, her face post operative, her mouth twisted in palsy, clownish. A tiny twig of faicial nerve, the one to the muscles of her mouth, has been severed. She will be thus from now on. The surgeon has followed with religious fervor the curve of her flesh; I promise you that. Nevertheless, to remove the tumor in her cheek I had to cut the little nerve. Her young husband is in the room. He stands on the opposite side of the bed and together they dwell in the evening lamplight, isolated from me, private. Who are they I ask myself, he and this wry mouth I have made, who gaze at and touch each other so generously and greedily?

The young woman speaks. “Will my mouth always be like this? “She asks.
"Yes” I say “ it will. It is because the nerve was cut."
She nods and is silent. But the young man smiles.
I like it”, he says. “It is kind of cute"

All at once I know who he is. I understand and lower my gaze. One is not bold in an encounter with God. Unmindful, he bends to kiss her crooked mouth and I am so close I can see how he twists his own lips to accommodate to hers, to show her that their kiss still works.
The image of the husband contorting his mouth and twisting his lips for an intimate kiss with his palsied wife haunted me.

[atanu]

There is a touching episode in the book Mortal Lessons by Richard Selzer . It is a brief postoperative discussion which transpires between Selzer and a young couple.
I stand by the bed where a young woman lies, her face post operative, her mouth twisted in palsy, clownish. A tiny twig of faicial nerve, the one to the muscles of her mouth, has been severed. She will be thus from now on. The surgeon has followed with religious fervor the curve of her flesh; I promise you that. Nevertheless, to remove the tumor in her cheek I had to cut the little nerve. Her young husband is in the room. He stands on the opposite side of the bed and together they dwell in the evening lamplight, isolated from me, private. Who are they I ask myself, he and this wry mouth I have made, who gaze at and touch each other so generously and greedily?

The young woman speaks. “Will my mouth always be like this? “She asks.
"Yes” I say “ it will. It is because the nerve was cut."
She nods and is silent. But the young man smiles.
I like it”, he says. “It is kind of cute"

All at once I know who he is. I understand and lower my gaze. One is not bold in an encounter with God. Unmindful, he bends to kiss her crooked mouth and I am so close I can see how he twists his own lips to accommodate to hers, to show her that their kiss still works.
The image of the husband contorting his mouth and twisting his lips for an intimate kiss with his palsied wife haunted me.

Namaste VC,

The story is touching and lofty.

But at the same time isn't it hypocrisy? Not negating the essential goodness of God which eventually wells up from within, in most similar cases, the husband is likely to hunger for a symmetrical beauty again. Should we drape our emotions in pink and close our eyes to the ever remaining truth of essential ugliness of the cravings of individual ego?


On the other hand, the story exemplifies why God is Shiva -- the Good one, who is eternally above the individual.

Thanks for the story.

Om

[vcindiana]

Namaste VC,

The story is touching and lofty.

But at the same time isn't it hypocrisy? Not negating the essential goodness of God which eventually wells up from within, in most similar cases, the husband is likely to hunger for a symmetrical beauty again. Should we drape our emotions in pink and close our eyes to the ever remaining truth of essential ugliness of the cravings of individual ego?


On the other hand, the story exemplifies why God is Shiva -- the Good one, who is eternally above the individual.

Thanks for the story.

Om

Thank you for reading.

Hypocrisy in this story is in the eye of the beholder, you be the judge.

I do find acts of God in the acts of fellow human beings, it does stir my heart, not my intellectual.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts. ...........................VC

[vcindiana]

Here's a story about Fiorello LaGuardia who was mayor of New York City during the worst days of the Great Depression and all of W.W.II. He was adored by many New Yorkers who took to calling him the "Little Flower," because he was so short and always wore a carnation in his lapel.

He was a colorful character -- he rode the New York City fire trucks, raided city "speak easies" with the police department, took entire orphanages to baseball games, and when the New York newspapers went on strike, he got on the radio and read the Sunday funnies to the kids.

One bitterly cold night in January of 1935, the mayor turned up at a night court that served the poorest ward of the city. LaGuardia dismissed the judge for the evening and took over the bench himself. Within a few minutes, a tattered old woman was brought before him, charged with stealing a loaf of bread. She told LaGuardia that her daughter's husband had deserted her, her daughter was sick, and her two grandchildren were starving.

But the shopkeeper, from whom the bread was stolen, refused to drop the charges. "It's a real bad neighborhood, your Honor," the man told the mayor. "She's got to be punished to teach other people around here a lesson."

LaGuardia sighed. He turned to the woman and said, "I've got to punish you. The law makes no exceptions. Ten dollars or ten days in jail." But even as he pronounced sentence, the mayor was already reaching into his pocket. He extracted a bill and tossed it into his famous hat, saying, "Here is the ten dollar fine which I now remit; and furthermore I am going to fine everyone in this courtroom fifty cents for living in a town where a person has to steal bread so that her grandchildren can eat. Mr.Bailiff, collect the fines and give them to the defendant."

The following day, New York City newspapers reported that $47.50 was turned over to a bewildered woman who had stolen a loaf of bread to feed her starving grandchildren. Fifty cents of that amount was contributed by the grocery store owner himself, while some seventy petty criminals, people with traffic violations, and New York City policemen, each of whom had just paid fifty cents for the privilege of doing so, gave the mayor a standing ovation.

Someone beautifully said, "Sympathy sees and says, 'I'm sorry.' Compassion sees and says, 'I'll help.' When we learn the difference, we can make a difference.

Thank you for reading.................VC

[atanu]

Thank you for reading.

Hypocrisy in this story is in the eye of the beholder, you be the judge.

I do find acts of God in the acts of fellow human beings, it does stir my heart, not my intellectual.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts. ...........................VC

Namaste VC,

Hypocrisy is not in the story. Stories are stories. Hypocrisy is in the eye of the beholder. True.

When you see god in acts of men, then why can't you see god in men's intellect? Why can't you see goodness in men performing murti puja?

The point is that you seem to see only a preferred set of acts as acts of god. This is my perception and I may be wrong.

Saying all this, I thank you for the good stories.

Om

[vcindiana]

In O. Henry" s famous short story " The Gift of the Magi" there lives a young poor couple. The wife has only $1.87 to buy her husband a gift and Christmas is next day. Impulsively she decides to sell her long thick hair to buy him a chain for his treasured gold watch. At the same moment he is selling the watch to buy his present for her- special combs for her beautiful hair.

Can you imagine the emotion this couple goes through on the morning of Christmas when they exchange their gifts? Love (God) is indeed awesome.......................................Love VC

[sm78]

A "real" story ...

A young man meets a elderly gentleman in his late 70's as they are members of the same organization ~ a volunteer social organization. They are briefly acquainted with each other, and their paths cross only occasionally.

The young man is quite poor and is in his struggling phase of life economically speaking. One day he gets to know thorough the organization that the old gentle man is ill. He visits his home as is custom in India to take news of people one even briefly knows. He finds him very ill. Moreover he finds him with absolutely no-one to near him. He learns from neighbor that the old gentleman's wife had died few years back. It is not known whether the couple were childless or the children do not bother to look after their parents. However no one has seen any relative visiting the old man in many years. The only people coming to him were neighbors or people of the aforementioned organization he was volunteer in.

It becomes clear that left in his condition the old man will die in his house without treatment. Yet no one is there to help him. The young man takes him to Govt hospital. Soon it becomes clear that intensive care is necessary for his survival. The young man then admits him to a good nursing home and the old man is admitted to a Intesive Care Unit of a nursing home. He stays there for weeks, showing little or no sign of improvement. Bills run in thousands of rupees, and the young man needs to borrow money from one of his friends to keep paying the bills. At the end of 2 weeks the old man dies, hardly knowing that an almost stranger had tried his best, even borrowing money, to save him.

The young man continues his daily struggles as nothing much has changed for him externally, his economic condition has gotten a bit more worse.

[sm78]

I have seen the happiness of couples in love and bitterness among couples whose love has gone wrong. In a give and take relationship strong emotions hide the real virtue of giving without seeking.

Much greater are silent acts of compassion.

Another touching story I had read on a newspaper long back...again this happens in India. It was a story of a westerner who had made India his home. Asked what he found so fascinating to stay in a poor country like India living behind the luxury of his home nation, he recounted the following story:-

He was at that time touring India as a young western tourist. He was deeply touched by the proverty that was visible in many places. Once he was taking his breakfast in a road side hotel in a large city. He then noticed a very young girl child begging for food. Her clothes were torn and her body was dirty. He was overcome by emotion at this site and immediately offered the girl a piece of bread. The girl gladly took his donation.

She then tore the bread in 2 pieces and gave half of it to a dog which was with her, before eating the remaining half.


Watching this the western gentleman knew he was in the land of the gods. He never went back.

[vcindiana]

Last Friday night we experienced a heavy storm, along came a tornado. When people were settling trying to go to bed, a small community near my place was hit with a tornado; several houses were completely demolished beyond recognition. Several people suffered injuries and some had to be hospitalized. Good thing no one died. I happened to be in touch with an elderly lady who went through this painful ordeal. She lost her house, her body was badly hurt. But I was amazed to see her uplifted spirit despite the tragedy. Losing her home was the least in her mind. She was thankful she was alive. She was thankful at least half of her body was still functioning and her mind was intact. She was thankful most of her family and friends were safe. She was thankful all the old pictures which represented beautiful life memories were saved. Visitors flocked to see her. It has been only 2 days, friends and family members are getting together, clean up has almost finished, and they are already drawing plans for the new houses to be built. It is beyond me to imagine how different people coming together, rolling their sleeves to help each other in this small community. I guess this is how God works.

Love....................................VC

[sm78]

Losing her home was the least in her mind. She was thankful she was alive. She was thankful at least half of her body was still functioning and her mind was intact. She was thankful most of her family and friends were safe. She was thankful all the old pictures which represented beautiful life memories were saved.

In Hindu Dharma this is how ignorance works. Incidents like this bewildered dharmaraj Yudhistir.

All that is build will surely collapse
All that is collected will surely disperse
All that is born will surely die
All that has been done will surely be undone.