Scientists say that only two percent is allowed to reach to the core; ninety-eight percent is prevented from reaching. That’s why you have poor souls – rich minds and poor souls, knowledgeable minds but foolish souls. You don’t have wisdom. Unless you deliberately start doing something about it, this is going to remain so.
The mind loves the nonessential; it is always hungry for gossip. Something utterly useless, and it listens so attentively.
I have heard about a priest. He was giving a discourse to his congregation, and almost everybody was fast asleep – that’s what people do in churches, temples. In fact, people who suffer from sleeplessness, they go to the churches, to the temples. If everything fails, tranquilizers don’t work any more; if you go to a religious discourse it never fails, it immediately succeeds.
So almost everybody was asleep. And that was not the problem, because the priest knew, that was his whole life’s experience. But a few people were there who were snoring too, and that was a great disturbance. So out of nowhere, unconnected with the discourse, he started telling a story.
He said, “Once it happened I was passing through a desert. There was nobody, just I was there with my donkey, and suddenly the donkey started speaking to me!”
Everybody was fully awake. Everybody! Not a single person was asleep. And then he dropped the story then and there, started his discourse again. One man stood up and said, “But what happened? What did the donkey say?”
The priest said, “You were so interested in what the donkey said, and you all became fully awake, but you are not interested in what I am saying.”
Muza Dai Boo, an Arab merchant, was in the marketplace one day when he felt terrible cramps. He just could not control himself, and let out a long loud fart.
People stared at him from all sides. Mortally embarrassed, he ran back to his house, packed his few belongings and journeyed far away. For years he traveled from town to town, but always avoided his home town.
At last, an old and weary man, he decided to return. He had grown a long beard and his face had aged enough so that he was sure he would not be recognized. His heart longed for the old familiar streets.
Once in town, he went directly to the marketplace. There, to his surprise, he saw the street had been paved. He turned to the man nearest him and said, “My friend, how smooth this street is! When, by the grace of Allah, was it so neatly paved?”
“Oh, that,” said the man. “That was done three years, four months and two days after Muza Dai Boo farted in the marketplace.”
People never forget the stupid things of life. Muza Dai Boo they have forgotten, nobody recognizes him – but that fart has become something historical.