Mike; It was nice that the taxi-driver was according to you "dangerously sentimental" because due to that he helped the lady.
If you hold too much in what is zen or not zen you miss out what is real zen. Your view of seeing this story it seems to be the view of a converted Christian to Zen and not the view of a practicioner who is free from views. Saying this of course does not mean that I'm free from bagage views. If you had the feeling of the Taxi-driver almost laping at his back was because you saw your own reflection on him. To me the moral of Jody's story was in the las three paragrapshs. All the rest is just an illustration to make stronger the last three paragraphs. Mayka --- In Zen_Forum@yahoogroups.com, mike brown <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > Hi Jody, > > A nice story, but I'm afraid it's not quite zen. The taxi-driver is being dangerously sentimental in his reaction to the old woman. He's obviously a nice guy but he almost sounds like he's patting himself on the back for what he did and how he treated the old lady. It reminds me of the story of the monk who carried a young female across a river and his younger protege kept haranguing him for hours because he broke the vow not to touch members of the opposite sex. After a while the older monk said, "I put her down on the other side of the river - when are you going to put her down?". We can't keep reviewing every action we take. There's a flip side to your story too. If the old lady had acted ungratefully, I can imagine the taxi-driver lamenting about the rude, selfish nature of people etc. If we're acting mindfully we just do what we have to. If the person is grateful - ok. If the person doesn't acknowledge what we've done - ok. Otherwise we become like > a paper bag blowing in the wind with our desires and emotions dictating how we act. > > > Mike. > > > ________________________________ > From: Jody W. Ianuzzi <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> > To: Zen_Forum@yahoogroups.com > Sent: Tuesday, 28 October, 2008 0:48:11 > Subject: [Zen] thoughtful story > > > > > A Cab Drivers Story > > So I walked to the door and knocked. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, > elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. > > After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before > me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on > it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. > > By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one > had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. > > There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the > counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and > glassware. > > 'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to > the cab, then returned to assist the woman. > > She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. > > She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her. 'I just > try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated'. > > 'Oh, you're such a good boy', she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me > an address, and then asked, 'Could you drive through downtown?' > > 'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly. > > 'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice'. > > I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have > any family left,' she continued. 'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I > quietly reached over and shut off the meter. > > 'What route would you like me to take?' I asked. > > For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the > building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. > > We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when > they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse > that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. > > Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner > and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing. > > As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm > tired. Let's go now' > > We drove in silence to the address she had given me.It was a low building, > like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. > > Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were > solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been > expecting her. > > I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was > already seated in a wheelchair. > > 'How much do I owe you?' she asked, reaching into her purse. > > 'Nothing,' I said > > 'You have to make a living,' she answered. > > 'There are other passengers,' I responded. > > Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me > tightly. > > 'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. > > 'Thank you.' > > I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, > a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. > > I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in > thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman > had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? > > What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? > > On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in > my life. > > We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. > > But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others > may consider a small one. > > PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY > WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL. > > Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might > aswell dance. > Al G > > ------------ --------- --------- ------ > ------------------------------------ Current Book Discussion: any Zen book that you recently have read or are reading! Talk about it today!Yahoo! 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