Ha-ha, Thomas. I don’t remember myself smiling today until just now, and it’s already evening.

You are so funny 😁 Thomas (still a big smile on my face). Thank you for it 😊 and for this thread.

So, the 4 monks spoke because each one had something to sat.

“Itmay be time for me to be silent”- 🤫 not for long, I hope!

🙏✨️🙏 Anita

Thomas, your story made me laugh, mostly because it exposed exactly what I’d been doing in my earlier comments. I know Zen stories aren’t meant to be dissected. I been working on something and sometimes I only discover what I’m thinking after I’ve said it out loud and posted it. The ‘Universe’ I think finds that funny. Anyway in that sense, I was definitely playing the fool monk who can’t help blurting something out.

I’ll try to follow the candle’s example and let the light go out gracefully 🙂 though, being me… well, we’ll see.

The Lost Donkey
When his donkey went missing, Nasreddin began thanking God profusely.
Confused neighbors asked why he was thankful for a loss.
He replied, “Because I wasn’t on the donkey at the time, otherwise I would be lost as well”.

(In Sufi symbolism, the donkey represents the unruly human ego.)

“We don’t notice the harmony because we’ve forgotten we’re part of the orchestra.” and the candle goes out. 🙏

Hi Everyone – thoughts on the Lost Donkey Story (Speaking of Traps Thomas mentioned… its started as a short comment and got away from me. I wasn’t planning on sharing it but maybe someone finds it helpful.)

This morning I found myself sitting with Chapter 25 of Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching, which for some reason left me feeling lonely. And something in that stirred a chain of associations as it echoed for me Krishnamurti’s reflections on loneliness and aloneness, which in turn brought to mind the Hermit of Meditations on the Tarot and his “Perfect Night.” And somehow all of that circled back to the old Nasreddin tale of the Lost Donkey. Four very different traditions, Taoist, psychological, Christian‑Hermetic, and Sufi, all pointing toward the same paradox of what it means to stand truly, profoundly alone but not lonely (lost had Nasreddin been on the donkey?).

LOA TZU – Mystery
There is something that contains everything. Before heaven and earth it is.
Oh, it is still, unbodied, all on its own, unchanging, all pervading, ever moving.
So it can act as the mother of all things.
Not knowing its real name, we only call it the Way.
If it must be named, lets its name be Great.
Greatness means going on, going on means going far, and going far means turning back.

This ‘turning back’ to the source, to one’s own center, is the action I think the Nasreddin story captures.

The Nasreddin story about the missing donkey carries a deeper paradox that shows up across many spiritual traditions. His neighbors see only loss, but Nasreddin gives thanks because he wasn’t riding it when it disappeared. In that simple twist, the story points to a truth echoed by both Krishnamurti and the Hermit of Meditations on the Tarot.

For Krishnamurti, the donkey might represent the “ego‑vehicle”, the bundle of memories, roles, and psychological habits we ride through life. When this donkey wanders off, most of us feel the shock of loneliness, as if we ourselves have gone missing. But Krishnamurti insists that if we can stay with that sense of isolation without running from it, something shifts. Loneliness dissolves, and what remains is aloneness, a state of freedom in which we realize we were never the donkey’s rider to begin with.

The Hermit in Meditations on the Tarot stands in a similar place, though described in mystical rather than psychological terms. He is the one who has already stepped off the donkey. Walking on foot, carrying only a staff and a lantern, he enters the “Perfect Night”, the inner darkness where all external lights fade and the soul’s own light becomes visible. His aloneness is not a wound but a capacity. Because he is no longer carried by anything external, he cannot be lost when the world goes dark… “He is a hermit in his inner life, whatever his outer life may be”… he has “turned back.”

Seen this way, Nasreddin’s gratitude makes perfect sense. The neighbors see poverty; he sees freedom. They see a man without a donkey; he sees a man who is no longer dependent on one. Loneliness is the fear of the person who realizes the donkey is gone and doesn’t know how to walk. Aloneness, the Perfect Night, is the joy of the person who discovers that without the donkey blocking the sky, the stars finally come into view.

In all three teachings, the same paradox shines through: If you are not riding the ego, you cannot be lost when the ego dissolves.

What all these stories and teachings seem to agree on is that the path runs straight through the tension we so often try to avoid… the ache of loneliness on one side and the quiet strength of aloneness on the other. We don’t bypass that tension; we inhabit it. And in doing so, something subtle shifts. The loneliness that once felt like a void begins to reveal itself as a doorway, a place where the noise of the world fades just enough for us to hear the faint music beneath things.

It’s easy to forget this… “we don’t notice the harmony because we’ve forgotten we’re part of the orchestra”. Loneliness is what we feel when we think we’ve been excluded from the music. Aloneness is what we discover when we realize the music was always inside us, waiting for a moment of stillness to be heard.

So perhaps the work is simply to stay with that tension, not rushing to escape loneliness, not clinging to aloneness, but letting both soften us until the inner lantern, the Hermit’s light, the Tao’s quiet presence, or Nasreddin’s unexpected gratitude begins to glow on its own. In that glow, the path becomes visible again, and we find ourselves walking, not lost, not carried, but quietly in tune with the larger harmony we had forgotten.

I’ll be candid its possible all these words are a attempt to convince myself… yet my mind returned to stillness and I don’t feel lonely…

LOL that reminded me of something Richard Wagamese wrote

I have become a comet. I arc across the sky of my life and the hard times are the friction that shaves off the worn and tired bits. The more I travel head-on, the more I am shaped, and the things that no longer work or are unnecessary drop away. It’s a good way to travel. I believe eventually I will wear away all resistance, until all that’s left of me is light.”

The “unnecessary bits” dropping away, the donkeys we no longer need to ride. 🙂 I should have just let Richard do the talking.

So many levels to such stories!

I am reminded of the Christian story of the Rich Young Ruler who asks Jesus what he must do to “inherit eternal life.” and Jesus’ response: “that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom”.

In both of these stories, the seeker asks for something ultimate (Eternal Life / The Key to Happiness). Each in their own way treating the “answer” as an acquisition rather than a transformation.

In the Christian Story: The young man asks for eternal life, perhaps expecting a new commandment or a blessing. Instead, he receives a surgical strike to his deepest attachment. He wasn’t prepared for the “answer” to cost him his identity, and he walks away sorrowful.

In the Zen Story: The rich man asks for the “key to happiness,” perhaps expecting a mantra or a secret. Instead, he receives a heart-pounding experience of loss and desperation. The master’s “answer” is a shock to the system rather than a verbal explanation.

In both stories the seekers don’t realizing that their hands are too full of diamonds and status to grasp anything new.

In both narratives, the “Masters” use the men’s own wealth to expose their internal poverty. The Christian story ends with the man’s failure to let go. The Zen story ends with a “practical joke”, for if he is a man of his word, he must now give up the chase and hand over diamonds in exchange for the “key” he just found.

The third story offers resolution: The monk stands naked by the window and sighs, “The moon cannot be stolen.” – “Rich” and I imagine ‘happy’ in his emptiness.

And some advice for rich men: Don’t ask a question you aren’t prepared to have answered. 🙂 Once asked, a question can’t be unasked….