SOULspace

Happy World Storytelling Day! "storycare is inseparable from healthcare" ~ Dan Yashinsky What is the story you choose to carry within you - that cares for all of humanity? Tell me. Share it with me. There is an Italian version and a Scottish version, yet I like what is retold by Dan Yashinsky in this version from the Arabian Nights. ( Taken from the Diving in the Moon - Honoring Story Facilitating Healing Journal 2016 of HSA) Mine is: The Happy Man's Shirt. A king had a son who was so sad that all he did was stare at the wall of his bedroom as he lay in bed. (Many heads nodded at this description. “The bed is your enemy,” one patient said to another.) Finally an old wise woman came to the palace and told the king that she knew what could heal his prince. “Go,” she said, “and search your kingdom for a happy man. Borrow his shirt. When your son wears the shirt of a happy man, he, too, will remember how to feel happy.”

The Story of Indra’s Net Let us travel into a far, far land, even upto the heavens. There you see Indra's palace. It will take you a while to drink in the splendor of the palace from outside. Be ready and sure that you want to step inside; and when you are sure nd ready to enter that palace, remove your slippers outside, fold your hands in gratitude and enter.  There within you will be astonished for the roof of the palace is adorned by a net, a net that stretches beyond your vision, perhaps even beyond infinity. Each of it's fine threads meet at a node and every node carries a jewel, a gem. So what you see is a net studded with a million jewels, each the size of a walnut. They glitter and shine and reflect their perfection and their completeness. If you step closer you will see that each of these jewels are connected to the one next to and beside them by a thin gossamer silken thread. Do not be deceived, they may look fragile, but these threads are

Joy Ride The door closed silently as he watched mesmerised. Everything looked bright and shiny. Mother pushed him to the seat, but he clung on to the central rod and watched mother’s hands glide down the metal rod running along the roof. He lifted his hand and pointed to the rod. Mother lifted him up and he held on, swinging from the rod like spiderman. A wide smile broke out on his face as he hung on, oblivious to the announcements that were made rhythmically. The seats were all full and mother had to just stand there next to him till their stop arrived, but she did not mind. The metro train glided smoothly into the station and doors swooshed open once again. Mother signed the name of the station to him with her fingers as they stepped carefully across the open automatic door and onto the Indra Nagar platform. He had so many questions to ask. She signed back patiently, knowing his curious, alert mind needed to be kept engaged. He would not move from there till he