This blog is a collection of short stories which can be used to teach children aspects of social and moral education. You will also find therapeutic stories to help with life’s difficulties, for both adults and children.

Please click on ‘select category’ on the left side of this blog to find the category of stories you are looking for. Click on the subject you choose and the stories will appear.

A story about the solar plexus centre ( Native American Indian)

A STORY FROM CALLING HORSE TO ILLUSTRATE THE SOLAR PLEXUS CENTRE

The solar plexus is below the ribs and above the naval.  It is the main energy distributor in the body, it helps in the thinking processes (gut feelings) and it connects us to others.

White Owl and the Bear

In times when men and women lived in teepees on the plains and in the forests of North America, there was a young warrior, we shall call him White Owl. He was a brave young man, never afraid to get others out of trouble, whether he had to fight off adversaries or wild animals. One day this young man and his friend Grey Wolf were deep in the forest. They were hunting for the wild bears who roamed freely in those days. These are very fierce animals. They were required for their coats for the winter bedding especially for young children. Winters were very cold indeed and the animals had to be sacrificed to keep us humans alive.

On this occasion Grey wolf was climbing a tree having disturbed a bear, thinking that the bear would not dare to climb as high as he could. He hoped the bear would use his solar centre –  his mind centre, and realise that he would not be safe on the fine, high branches. However the bear continued up and up and Grey wolf began to think that he would soon run out of tree!

The bear looked down and saw White Owl

Now White Owl his friend saw the dilemma and decided to act as a decoy for Grey Wolf.  He shouted and threw sticks at the bear who looked down and saw a second adversary at the base of the tree.  The bear had been starting to get a gut feeling that it was about time to turn round and go down again.  Now he had even more reason to do exactly that.  With a huge bellowing roar he reversed down the tree.  This was a slightly slower process than climbing up. White Owl looked at his weapons, he had a tomahawk and a bow and arrows. He and Grey Wolf had spent many a long evening practising their tomahawk throwing by the light of the moon, and he was very accurate. He decided to risk throwing the small axe, which is what it was, planning the throw to coincide with a difficult part of the descent of the bear. He did not have time to think of any other solutions. That he would leave to the Great Spirit.
The tomahawk made a direct hit, straight through the skull of the enraged bear which fell like a stone to the base of the tree trunk. Grey Wolf descended carefully, trembling somewhat and surveyed the dead animal. He clutched his belly and said:

“Well, I think one bear is quite enough for one day, don’t you? Probably enough for one year for me. It’s going to take me a while to recover from this!”

The young men skinned the bear on the spot, leaving the carcass for the wild beasts which would surely find it. They carried the skin home to their families, proudly presenting it to be shared by their mothers for the youngest children in each family. They had been happy to risk their lives in this way for those with whom they had close ties, another solar plexus connection.

For a fuller description of the functions of the solar plexus energy centre go to www.yogastories.co.uk and click on the contents list.  Go down to the last chapter and click on ‘information on the solar plexus chakra’.

Story to illustrate the Heart Centre

This story comes from a Native American Indian Chief named Calling Horse.  He speaks about the importance of the Heart Centre to the people of his tribe.  The heart centre can be felt when we experience strong feelings of love, and in a negative way when we lose a person or an animal that we love.

Making a heart connection to a new camp

In the days when we, a nomadic people, traversed the plains, we found it very easy to set up camp and make a home where-ever we found ourselves. Sometimes it would be in a beautiful valley with river running and plenty of trees for shade. Sometimes it was in the wide open plains. We were very aware of our energy centres in those days, and when a place felt good to stay at for a while, the chief would gather the tribe around him. He would place his hand on his heart, look up to the heavens and then stamp his feet on the earth and say:

“In this place we are well connected. I feel the energy running from my head through my heart. I feel the energy running from the earth through my feet to my heart. This place I love. It will be good for us. Let us stay a while.”  Then we would stay.

In such places where the energies felt good, we would all feel happy and settled. Our hearts would warm to each other and to our animals. Our hearts would warm to the place we were in, to the trees and the plants and animals. The song masters in the tribe would meditate and make up songs about the place we were in. They were actually listening to folk who had lived there before and who had happy memories of those places, whose heart centres had opened and glowed in those self same places.

When it was time to move on (as we were a restless people), we would sing those songs to remind us of the lovely times we had had, and again we would feel the glow in our hearts.
That is the job of the heart centre: to connect us with our surroundings that God has provided; to connect us to each other and to the Great Spirit himself who is always with us, watching and caring. His almighty heart centre must be bigger than the earth and sky itself!

To find an explanation of the Heart Centre  and other energy centres

or ‘chakras’, click on this link Or type it into your address bar if it does not work as a link!

(  http://yogastories.co.uk )  and go to the contents page and find ‘guidance on chakras’ at the end of the contents section.

Throat Centre Story (The Young Brave Chants to the Great Spirit)

This is one of a series of 7 stories on the human energy centres, given to me in meditation by Calling Horse, an American Indian Chief of days gone by. This one illustrates the use of the ‘Throat centre’

The Young Brave Chants to the Great Spirit by CALLING HORSE

In the days when men hunted for food and women harvested leaves to add to the value of the flesh, sometimes it was difficult to find enough wild plants. This was certainly the case if the season was poor or the weather inclement. At these times we would appreciate the stores of dried plants which had been gathered and preserved for the winter by the older women in the tribe. On one occasion I remember times were particularly hard. I was a small boy and I was very hungry; we all were. The winter had only just started and the elders knew that they must eke out their stores for several months to come. The men had not had a lot of luck with the hunting. They had only managed to catch a few small animals; the buffalo were nowhere to be found.

The chief was on the point of deciding to move camp. He wanted to consult the Great Spirit and he wanted us all to pray to make sure we got the right answer about whether and where to go. The adults all sat in a circle around the camp fire. The chief stood by the totem pole holding his staff in his hand. It was very impressive to me as a small child. This staff had great plumed feathers tied to it in several places and a bunch of eagle feathers was attached to the top. The chief would stamp the ground with his feet and then pound the staff onto the earth.

In response we would chant “Aa ee ee ohh” again and again. Now I was disturbed by the urgency of these cries to God. I recognised that we all felt that we were in trouble and I started to cry. My mother held me to her breast and smoothed my head. She said I should not waste my voice in selfish pity, but I should use it to ask for Gods help which would be for all of us. I joined in with the chanting. The chief stamped around the circle facing each member in turn. When he came to me he almost smiled and he lowered the eagle’s feathers to the level of my head. He touched me with them to encourage my efforts at chanting. I felt very proud. My father called me his good brave and I chanted louder and louder. At the end of the ceremony the chief announced that we would move on the next day. The gods had shown him where to find the buffalo. Indeed after two days travelling we found traces of them and set up camp.

My brother was the first to find and kill a buffalo on that occasion. There was much celebration and again we gathered round the camp fire to chant, this time in joyful thanks. The sound was different, it had a happier quality and every one was smiling, even the chief. This time he had a different staff. It had the horns of a buffalo attached to it. Again he brought it round the circle as we chanted. When he came to me I was sure I saw him wink at me. He was certainly smiling and we all felt very proud of my brother ‘Fleet of foot’ who had lived up to his name yet again.

The Chief's staff had the horns of a buffalo

A STORY FOR THE THIRD EYE OR BROW CENTRE

I am writing a series of stories which illustrate the uses of the seven main energy centres of the body. The subject of this story is the Brow centre or Third Eye. The stories have come to me from Calling Horse, a Spirit Guide.

Grey Wolf is Given a Bride

Many years ago when my people were settled on the plains, during a quiet period when there was peace between all the tribes and it was a land of plenty, there was a wise old chief. You may not believe this but his name was Chief Thunderbird! He had the name before your people got hold of it!

Now Chief Thunderbird was a very astute old man. Whenever he wanted someone to do something for him or for the tribe, he would somehow make that person feel as if it was his own idea in the first place. He would arrange his request in such a way that the person would find themselves suggesting what he, the chief wanted, as an answer to a problem.
However after many years of doing this, people got wise to the wiley old man, not that anything he ever asked for was out of order, or in any way harmful to the giver or to the tribe. It was just that people began to resist this manipulation, almost like a game.

On one occasion he asked a young brave, Grey Wolf by name, if he would take care of a certain family whose father had been killed in a hunting expedition. Now Grey Wolf, although he saw the need for a protector for this young family, was not so sure if he wanted to become a substitute father so early on in his life. Although he had no particular young lady to whom he was attached, he had given no thought to the young widow in the past, naturally as she was already spoken for. However the chief could see that it would be an ideal match and wanted Grey Wolf to see this too.

Chief Thunderbird prayed to the Great Spirit to give Grey Wolf a vision which would convince him that Morning Star would be a good wife for him and that he could care for the two little boys like a good father. The next evening as Grey Wolf was sitting by the camp fire after the others had retired to sleep, as he stared into the flames, he saw a picture of himself with his arm around Morning Star and the two little boys sitting one on each of his knees. It was a very happy scene. Above the little family he saw the Great Spirit radiating light over the group.

Grey Wolf sat until the vision faded and then walked over to the teepee where Thunderbird’s family was based. He asked to see the old man and told him of his vision, and said he would be very honoured to take on the young family. The next day there was much celebrating. Grey wolf took the little boys swimming in the lake and Morning Star watched confidently, knowing that now all would be well again, both for her children and for herself.

Grey Wolf has a vision

It is through the third eye which is situated in the centre of the forehead that we can receive visions.  This ability has been lost or ignored by most people in modern times but it was very important to many ancient peoples.  It can be activated by meditation in appropriate circumstances and indeed many people today are learning to use this natural human ability.

The Crown Centre. A story to illustrate the use of the energy centre at the top of the head.

This story came to me when I was asking in meditation for stories to show an understanding of human energy centres by Native American Indians.  The spirit guide Calling Horse gave me this story.

THE CROWN CENTRE, A STORY FROM CALLING HORSE

When my people became restless the chief would be sensitive to their feelings and desires for a move, but he would always try to move camp at a propitious time. If we were careless about it, we might find that another tribe was occupying the area which we had planned to go to. We might find that food was scarce in the new place. We might encounter disease and pestilence. A move had to be carefully planned and the Great Spirit played a full part in this.

The chief would go into retreat for two days. During this time he would meditate. He also required the elders to do the same. They would also fast so that they would be more ‘clear-seeing’. Some of them would use the fire as their oracle, seeing pictures in it which told them what they needed to know. Others would meditate on the clouds and others would make contact with the tree spirits. One elder I knew would collect beautiful stones, akin to your crystals and would place them on his body as he lay on the ground in his teepee. There he would stay until he had his answer.

All of them were making contact with the Great Spirit through their crown centre,  the spiritual energy centre at the top of the head. Through this the Gods would give them visions and answers to their questions. They would ask specific questions about the place they planned to go to. They would ask about the predicted weather, about the buffalo and its whereabouts. They would ask about the abundance of small animals and about the types of medicinal plants available. They would ask about the presence of other tribes and whether the place would sustain our tribe as well, if another group were already present. We also needed to know if the other group would be agreeable to our sharing the area with them or if they would be hostile. If hostility was predicted we had to decide if we could frighten them off easily, or if they would stand their ground.

Sometimes it would take the medicine man (who was the chief) and the elders up to a week to find answers to all these questions. Usually they were right but if they had been consuming some of our special brew which contained certain drugs, then their answers would be dubious. Our chief always tried to eliminate the possibility of this happening by banning it’s consumption during these times of decision making, however this was not always obeyed.

There was one old man who found it hard to resist the stuff and who had his own secret supply. He was in charge of ascertaining whether tribes were going to be hostile. On one occasion he confidently predicted that all would be well and we went ahead and moved to a beautiful valley three days journey from our present camp. The incumbents were so enraged at our intrusion that we had to beat a hasty retreat back to where we came from. The elders had to consider all over again the prospect of a move. That particular old man was retired from the job and another more sober individual was trained in his role.  He already knew how to meditate, but he was given a sequence to follow whereby he could call up the appropriate guides who knew about the tribe under consideration. Through his crown centre the answer would come. He would feel the movements of energy at the top of his head and he would know that his thoughts were not his own imagining, but that they were God inspired and therefore to be trusted. If however peoples’ motives were not of the highest order and they were seeking power or possession for its own sake then their answers may have lead to confusion and danger. That was the penalty of having the wrong motives, but a good chief would always see to it that this was not the case.

So through the Crown Centre our lives and movements were regulated. We did not need the sophisticated instruments of the late twentieth century. We had our ‘energy centres’ and the Great Spirit.

A new baby is coming – story for 5-8year olds

To help young children accept the idea of having a new baby brother or sister.

A New Baby is Coming 

When mother told Susan that she was going to have another baby, Susan felt both pleased and concerned about the news. If her mother had a baby would she still have time for Susan? Would she love Susan just as much?

Susan was worried

How could she? Surely she would have to share her love between three children instead of two and there would not be as much love for Susan? This worrying thought took Susan to her father who was busy mending the car.  

“What is the trouble, Susan? You look rather upset. Why do you frown so?”  

“Daddy,” she said. “When Mummy has the new baby, will she still love us just as much? I can’t see how she will be able to. She will have to share her love with all three of us and with you too!”  

“Ah, so that is your big problem for today. Well, Susan, certainly Mummy will have to share her time between the three of you. That is true. But love is different from time.

There are only so many things you can fit into a day, before you run out of time.

But love is different. Love is like a colour, or like the warm wind. It just is. It surrounds you, like the blue of the sky. If someone else sits next to you, you still see just as much sky, don’t you? You still feel the warm wind whether you are by yourself, or with other people. The wind is not used up because there are more people. The wind is still there just as much.  

Mummy loves you and your brother. She did not love him less when you were born. He did not lose Mummy’s love when you came along, but he gained someone else to love himself. When this baby is born, do you think Mummy will stop noticing whether you arehappy or sad? Or if you have a splinter in your finger, will she say,

‘Go away, Susan, I am loving the baby at the moment’?  

“No. She will care for you just as before. She will always love you the same because you are her daughter and you have a place in her heart. You can show her how much you love her by helping her with little jobs around the house and then she will have more time to show you how she loves you.

“So don’t worry, my girl. You will not be forgotten when this baby is born and you will discover how nice it is to love babies. You will feel a lot of love for your new brother or sister. You will find that you enjoy holding the baby and playing with it when it is big enough.

Babies are very good at loving and they love everyone who loves them. Their smiles are one of the sweetest things in the world.” 

Susan smiled a big smile. She felt happy again.

QUESTIONS:

1. How did you feel when you heard the story?

2. Did it remind you of anything?

3. What was Susan worried about?

4. When she told her father about it, what did he say to her?

5. Do you think mothers will love their children less when a new baby is born?

First published in SSEHV, education in human values   www.bisse.org.uk

 

Overcoming the cycle of sexual abuse, from an abuser

I was asked by a mental health therapist to write a story to help a client who had suffered from sexual assault.  This story is what came to me in meditation from a woman in America.  I hope it is helpful.

Our Special Secret

When I was a kid my ma and pa were strict as hell. They never spoke about sex. It was a forbidden subject in our house. My parents had six children and we were poor. My pa started interfering with me when I was twelve. He said Ma had had enough of him. He started very gentle like and what he did to me felt nice, but kind of scary, ’cause before that he would whop us and tell us not to be so dirty. I felt confused. I loved my pa, and when he started stroking me it made me feel real good. He said it had to be our ’special secret’. In our house there never was much to go round and my pa would give me extra little treats to keep me on his side I guess. Well soon we had a real big secret together. I wanted the treats and he made me feel so special and nice, I thought I was real lucky. But I knew something was wrong and I wasn’t sure what. The secret became so important it seemed to become the biggest thing in my life.

One day my younger sister came to me and told me she was worried about Pa. He had started to do things to her that she didn’t like. She said a friend in school had a brother who did things to her and he was sent away for being a real bad person. My sister was afraid that our pa would be sent away.

I felt jealous of my sister and worried too. I told her to tell Pa not to do it. I said I would speak to Pa about it. I asked her if she liked what Pa was doin’ to her. She said she kind of liked it but it made her afraid. I said I would stroke her instead of Pa and because I was a girl it would be all right. So she told Pa about her friend’s brother and Pa didn’t bother her anymore. I started stroking my sister and found she was lovely and soft and warm, not like Pa, he was rough and hairy. I found the fear and excitement of doing something I knew was wrong was quite a thrill.

Eventually Pa died and I married. My sister and I kept our childhood secret. My husband was rough and hairy just like Pa. When my babies were born I loved to touch their skin. I touched them far too much and not in ways that a mother should touch her children. I was reminded of my sister. I knew I should not be touching them the way I did and eventually they were taken away from me. I never wanted to hurt them. I could not explain to anyone why I did what I did to them. Everyone thought I was filth and I guess I was. To me it was the only way I could find to satisfy my needs. I was broken up when they were taken away from me. I was so sorry that they had to have foster parents. I now know that I did a great wrong to them and to my sister,  just as my pa did a great wrong to me. I  hope against hope that they do not become abusers in their turn.

Gaining Strength from Inner Peace, a story about doing the right thing

 

Francoise uses her imagination

 

Francoise gazed across the street.  She could see trams trundling along, filled with the workers on their way to offices in the city.  A feeling of discontentment came over her.  There she was, compelled to stay at home and care for her aged mother.

 

“Francoise!” A tremulous voice interrupted her train of thought.  “Francoise, my bottle, it’s cold.  Will you fill it up for me, dear?”

 

I’m coming, Mother, just a moment.”

 

She continued to stare out of the window at the world outside.  Not for her the world of work; not anymore.  She had been a teacher until last year when her mother had fallen ill had come to live with her and Jan, her husband,.  She had always agreed with her mother that should the need arise her home would be open to ‘Grandmere’.  When her children had been young Francoise’ mother looked after them while Francoise was teaching in the local school.  It had been a great help to her.  She had been able to earn enough money so that she and Jan could buy their own house and take the family on holidays. 

 

The family had all left home, the youngest only last year, and Francoise had been looking forward to some time for herself; for her and Jan.

 

“What bliss,” she had thought, “I shall be able to work part time and perhaps paint my landscapes, and maybe even sell some.”

 

But it was not to be, not yet at least.  Francoise sighed and made a mental note that she must purchase some more coffee, and the detergent for the weekly wash was nearly finished.  That too must be added to her list. 

 

Drawing her hand across her brow to smooth the tense lines from her forehead, she walked over to the half-open door that led to her mother’s room.  It had been their dining room, but now her mother lived permanently in it.  Francoise sighed again as she pushed open the door to her mother’s room.  There lay the old lady.  She smiled as her daughter appeared in the doorway. 

 

“Ah, Francoise, there you are.  I was just thinking, it would be nice to have a lobster today would it not?  Take money from my purse and go to the market and buy one, there’s a dear.

 

Francoise looked at her mother.  She was very frail for her seventy -six years.  She almost looked transparent.  She still loved to think about food and to plan delicious meals, but when it came to eating them, she could only manage a little thin soup. 

 

Very well, mother, I’ll make lobster bisque for lunch.  Give me your bottle and I’ll heat it up for you…”

 

Francoise knew that neither could they afford to buy a lobster nor could her mother eat it.  But the old lady must be humoured.  Why argue?  She picked up the purse lying on the bedside table. In it were a few coppers.  Unnoticed by her mother Francoise put a ten-franc note into the purse.  She always topped up her mother’s money when she could.  It enabled the old woman to feel that she could treat the family to special things every so often.  Sometimes Francoise would buy the much desired treat, and at other times she would pretend she had, and would show her mother the empty packet or bottle, or in this case, lobster shell, and say how much they had all enjoyed her present.  This pleased Grandmere, being unable to participate in these delicacies, she was none the wiser.

 

Francoise tiptoed away from the room where her mother now lay asleep.  There was time to go to the market and buy some vegetables for the main meal.  No meat today as they could not afford it.  She would shake some fish sauce from a bottle into the soup, and ‘lobster bisque’ it would become.

 

When Jan returned that evening, Francoise was looking rather low in spirit. 

“Try not to let it get you down,” he said, giving her a squeeze.  “Is there not something you could do here at home, while she sleeps.  She seems to be sleeping more and more these days.”

“ I’ll try to think of something, Jan,” replied his wife, “I certainly can’t keep cleaning the house all day every day, it’s beginning to wear me down.  I must do something else.  I miss my colleagues at school so much and the children of course.  I’ll have a long think about it.  I do need something else in my life apart from Mother.  She sleeps so much and when she’s awake she’s only half-aware of what she’s saying.  She remembers so little these days.  I need other company sometimes.  I do wonder occasionally whether she’d be better of in a home for the elderly, but she’d probably hate it.  I don’t think I would feel happy if I sent her away.

 

“You must do what you think is right,” replied her husband, but try to feel good about it and don’t resent her presence.  I’m sure you’ll think of something else to do in between looking after mother.

 

Francoise smiled, “I should be able to.  After all it’s an ideal opportunity to work by myself, undisturbed for most of the time.”

 

That night as Francoise lay drifting towards sleep, a picture came into her mind.  She would set up her paints in a corner of the living room.  She would paint peoples’ portraits.  It was a dream she had had as a young woman, but because she needed to earn a good living she had chosen teaching instead.  Now, she realised, she could choose again.

 

She would not charge much to begin with.  She knew her colleagues from school would love to have portraits of themselves or their children.  Yes! That is what she would do.  She became quite excited.  She had to wake Jan to tell him about her plans.

He knew they could live on his earnings, if somewhat frugally. 

 

Jan greeted her idea with enthusiasm. 

 

The next day Francoise went up into the loft and brought down some old canvasses.  They just needed to be re-primed with paint, and she would be ready to go.  She thought the first picture she would paint would be of her mother, asleep.  She made a very still sitter.

 

Francoise was thrilled with the result.  She had embued her mother’s face with a sense of great peacefulness.  She felt a strong sense of compassion and fellow feeling for her mother.  She was glad she would not be sending her away.

For herself she had found peace of mind by doing what she felt was right and not resenting it.  She had found a way of using her time in an enjoyable and creative way, a way that could eventually bring some extra income to the family.

 

The picture of her mother won an award at the town’s annual exhibition of portrait paintings;  it was so unusual and so full of sensitive appreciation of the subject.

 

Francoise never regretted the time when she cared for her mother.  Her children now with offspring of their own said that it had changed her life for the better in so many ways.  Instead of being the anxious teacher, always busy, she now painted most days, and attended lectures and exhibitions and her work was much appreciated by the many folk whose portraits she painted.

This story is published in SSEHV,  free lesson plans in Human Values.  Click on the link at the top of this page to find more.

 

 

 

The Bamboo House, a story about respecting animals (non violence, for primary school children 6-10 years)

The Bamboo House:

Susie lived in Malasia. When she was six years old something happened in the family which she would never forget.

Susie’s house was made of bamboo. Long poles of wood were used to hold up the roof, the walls and the floor. The house was built above the ground so that people did not get wet and a higher house was not so easy for the  wild creatures to get into.

There were three children in the family: Susie, her brother Sam and her sister Tali.

Their mother and father used to grow fruit for the family and to sell in the market.

One day, Father loaded up the baskets on his bicycle and set off to market. Mother stayed at home to look after the family. She was not feeling very well and she was tired. Mum fell asleep on the mat in the bedroom.

Sam was the eldest and he said he wanted to go and play in the garden. Susie didn’t think he ought to do that while their mum was asleep, because he should stay in the house and look after Tali who was only three years old. Tali could be a bit naughty sometimes. Sam went out to play and Susie looked after Tali while Mum as asleep. They played with their dolls made of palm leaves. They were very quiet so as not to wake Mum up.

After a while they heard some shouting. It was Sam and someone else.

“Stop. Come here,” said the voice.

“Go away!,” said Sam.

Mum woke up. “Whatever if the matter?” she asked. “What is Sam up to now?”

Sam appeared up the ladder and climbed in to the house. He was looking guilty.

“Whatever have you been up to, Sam?”

“I didn’t mean to frighten Mr. D’s chickens,” cried Sam.

Then Mr. D appeared below us, shaking his fist at Sam.

“That boy of yours, Mrs. He’s been shooting peas at my hens. They have all flown off into the jungle.  Wild animals may catch them and eat them if they are too frightened to come home.”

“Oh dear, oh dear!” said Mum. “This is the last thing I need today. Come on, all of you. We have to go and bring back Mr. D’s chickens. Sam, I am very cross with you.”

The houses were in a clearing in the jungle. The chickens had run away to hide in the trees. It took a long time to find them and shoo them back. Mum and Susie were very tired and cross when at last the chickens were all in their pen.

Sam felt bad. He had frightened the chickens and because of him everyone felt cross and tired, especially mum.

“I’m sorry, Mum. I won’t do it again. I didn’t mean to hurt the chickens. I was just practising my shooting.”

His mother sighed a big sigh.  “All right, Sam, but why don’t you hang some big leaves on the washing line and get your sister to pull it up and down. Then you’ll have a target that won’t get hurt.”

Susie enjoyed helping Sam with his target practice and he used his pea shooter to frighten away snakes and any other animals which were careless enough to climb up to the house.

• What name might you give to the story?
• How did Susie try to help her Mum at the start of the story?
• Sam did several things which were not helpful and not good.  Can you remember what he did?
• What did Sam do with his peashooter?
• What might have happened to the chickens in the jungle?
• What do you think about hurting or frightening animals?
• Do you think Sam’s mum was kind or unkind? Why?
• How did Susie help Sam at the end of the story?
  

Empty Nest Syndrome ( a story to help overcome it)

This story came to me from an aristocratic lady from the past, not from Britain.  She came to me in meditation when I asked for help for a lady who was well off in the material sense but who was feeling depressed and upset by loss of her now grown up children.

The Empty Nest

 

My role in life was to oversee the rearing of my family. This I thoroughly enjoyed. I had five children whom I adored. There was a daughter and four sons. I ensured that their every need was catered for. In our household we were blessed. I had all the help I needed, all the money, food and clothing befitting a woman and a family of high standing. I oversaw the education of my children. I employed their tutors and made it my business to ensure that they learned what they needed to know in their lives.  

One by one they grew up and left the family home to make their own mark in the world. My husband was busy with affairs of state. He did not notice the emptiness that had somehow filled every waking moment in my life. My reasons for living had all departed. Even my daughter had been drawn into the bosom of her husband’s family. She no longer needed her mother. My sons needed to assert their manhood. They no longer wanted a mother to check that all was as it should be. I felt as if someone had taken the reigns out of my hands and my horses had all fled in different directions, excitedly sniffing the new air, away from their homeland. Their charioteer was left sitting in an empty chariot all alone, un-needed and unwanted. 

When they did come back they were so full of tales of their own lives that they hardly noticed me. Indeed they became irritated if I asked them if they were taking care of themselves.  

“Of course we are, Mother, you trained us well. Please do not fret over us!” 

My husband was at a loss as to know how to lift me out of the pit I was in. His life was so full and busy, he could not imagine how it was for me without my family around me. No-one needed me. 

One day my favourite maid came into my room. I had taken to resting in my bed later and later in the mornings as I could not think of what else to do. The maid looked distressed. Even in my self absorbed state I was able to notice that. I called her over to my bedside. 

“What is the matter, Silome, are you unwell?” 

“No Madame, it is not I who is unwell, but my brother.” 

She went on to tell me how her brother had fallen off the roof of a house he was building. He could not work and his family were going hungry. My maid was trying to help him, but he had three children and she had little to give. 

“Dry your tears, Silome, perhaps something can be done.”

“No , Madame, you must not concern yourself with my life. You are unwell yourself. I cannot burden you with my problems.” 

“Silome, it could be that your problems could solve my problems. I have become too insular. I have not looked outside into the world. I have forgotten that others need help and support. I remember my mother telling me ‘It is in giving that we receive.” Now at last I can see the truth of it. I gave my all to my family and I received their love and appreciation. Now they have gone and I cannot give any more. But now I hear of your brother and no doubt there are others like him. I must discover in what ways I can give. I must learn to give in different ways, be it through charitable works, through kindness, advice or material help. I must seek others who also need to learn to give. In my life it has been laudable to take and to give. I have taken help from the servants, from the beauticians, from the clothiers, but the giving back to them has been empty of love. It is a mere exchange of money. I know now that I need to give with my heart.  

I love you Silome as my most trusted maid, and it pains me to think of your brother’s family suffering. Let us see what can be done, my dear.” 

From that moment my life changed. I regained a sense of purpose. It took a while to learn how to give appropriately and with whom to develop my new skills of openness and sharing. But I did learn and my family sees a new side to their mother and are again learning an important lesson from me: 

“ It is more blessed to give than it is to receive.”