The Mustard-Seed Medicine
A Story from India


KISA GOTAMI was a beautiful young woman with neither father nor mother to care for her. In the city market one day, a rich young man saw her as she stood in a booth selling flowers. He fell in love with her at first sight. Later he married her. Everyone thought: "What a happy life Kisa Gotami will now have. Some time after that a baby was born, a beautiful little boy, and Kisa Gotami was completely happy. The days slipped by very fast as she watched her little son grow and learn. Almost before she knew it, he could run about and talk. She loved him more than anyone else in all the world. She loved him when he was obedient and when he was stub-born. She loved him when he laughed and when he cried. But one day the little boy suddenly became very sick. Even though his mother and father did everything they knew how to do for him, the little boy did not get well. In a few days he died.

Kisa Gotami could not believe her little boy was really dead. She thought his sickness had only put him to sleep. Some kind of medicine would surely wake him up. So she wrapped the little body in its baby sheet and lifted it up in her arms. She carried it to her neighbor's door.

"Please, my friend," she begged, "give me some medicine that will cure my child." But when her neighbor lifted the sheet and saw the baby's face, she shook her head sadly. She knew there was no medicine that could cure him.

Kisa Gotami was not easily discouraged. She went from door to door. She begged each neighbor she saw: "Please give me some medicine to cure my little boy." But each neighbor in turn looked at the baby's sleeping face and shook her head sadly. The neighbors all felt very sorry for Kisa Gotami. When she was gone, they said:

"Poor Kisa Gotami! Has she lost her sensesl" Finally she met a man on the street who said:

"My good woman, I cannot give you any medicine for your child, but I know a man who can help you.

"Oh, tell me, please, who is he and where may I find him

"Go to Buddha," said the man encouragingly. "He canalways help people." So Kisa Gotami hurried to the home of Buddha. She stood before the great man and said:

"Good Buddha, I am told you are always able to help people in trouble. Please give me some medicine that will cure my child."

Buddha looked tenderly at the anxious mother. He knew the child was dead. He knew he could not bring the dead back to life again, but he knew also that he could help the mother to feel peaceful and comforted. "My good woman, you must help me find the medicine," said Buddha kindly. "Go and bring me a handful of mustard seed."

"Surely I can easily find a handful of mustard seed, "said Kisa Gotami eagerly. "Do as 1 tell you," said Buddha, 'hut remember this: The mustard seed must be taken from a house where no one has ever died or it will be of no use."

Believing she could find the mustard seed in some house where no one had ever died, Kisa Gotami thanked Buddha and went back home. There she gently laid her child's lifeless body on its little bed. Then she went out alone to find the handful of mustard seed.

First she went hopefully to her next-door neighbor. "Have you a handful of mustard seed" she asked. "Buddha says it will cure my child."

"Certainly I have mustard seed. I will gladly give you a handful and more."

"Thank you so much, kind neighbor," said Kisa Gotami, "but before taking the seed I must ask you a question. Has anyone ever died in your house--a father or grandfather or grandmother or anyone else?"

"O Kisa dear, have you forgotten?" said the neighbor in surprise. "Our dear grandfather died here scarcely more than a year ago."

"Then your mustard seed cannot cure my child," said Kisa Cotami sadly. "Buddha said that I must find the seed in a home where no one has ever died."

Hopefully Kisa Gotami went to another house. She went from door to door, to every house in the village, asking for a handful of mustard seed. When she asked the question: "Has anyone ever died in this house?" one said:

"Yes, our oldest son died here. It was ten years ago, but we still miss him." Another said:

"Both our grandparents died in this house." Another said:

"My husband died here many years ago." At every door it was the same. Someone would say:

"Good woman, why remind us of our sorrow? How can you expect to find a house where no one has died? Don't you know that the living are few but the dead are many?"

At last, tired and discouraged, Kisa Gotami went outside the village and sat down alone on a rock under a banyan tree. She knew now that even Buddha had no medicine for her child. Nothing could bring him back to life again. Tears blinded her eyes. Although it was broad daylight, it seemed as though the darkness of night had fallen over her.

As she sat quietly under the banyan tree, she slowly began to feel peaceful. After all, she was not all alone and deserted. Nor did she feel that her little boy was all alone. The really real little boy she loved was gone. That was true. She did not know where he had gone or why he had gone, but she did know now that his body was dead. It had died, just as thousands of other persons' bodies had died before. Just as her own body would sometime die. Just as everybody in all the world must sometime die. Kisa Gotami felt that all people were together in dying. No one was ever all alone.

But Kisa Gotami wanted to talk with Buddha again. She was beginning to understand why he had sent her to get the handful of mustard seed. But she wanted him to tell her. So she arose and went back to his home. Buddha greeted her in the same gentle way he had done before.

"Good woman, have you brought the mustard seed?" he asked.

"No, my lord. There is no house in all the village where someone has not at sometime died." "Sit down beside me" said Buddha. "Let us talk together a while." Kisa Gotami was glad to listen and be quiet.

"Our lives in this world are all short whether we live for one year or for a hundred years. Everyone who is born must sometime die--yes, everyone. There are no exceptions. We all have our times of happiness and also our times of pain and sorrow. Do not try to free yourself from suffering. Try rather to free yourself from hate and selfishness.

"Do not struggle, good woman," said Buddha. "Be at peace. Accept your life as a gift. Take the days as they come one by one. Fill them as full of kindness as you can."

Kisa Gotami went often to Buddha. The thoughts that he gave her to think about were the best kind of medicine for her loneliness. Now that she knew how much it hurt to be lonely, she began to learn how to comfort others who also were sad.

Kisa Gotami, now a rich man's wife, went often to the homes of the poor. She brought them food. She played with their children. In these ways she slowly learned how to comfort herself.

FROM: http://clf.uua.org/betweensun days/middlechildhood/MustardSeed.html





I've seen variations of this story. Some end with Kisa coming before the sage and being asked if she found a mustard seed, after having woken up to the reality of the pervasive nature of pain in life, and burying her son.

She then answers, "No my lord. There is no such mustard seed. There is no house in this village, nor the next, nor any of the ones within traveling distance, that has not seen pain, death, and sickness. There is no such house."

And he simply states, "Now, my child, you know the truth..."



2008 has been an incredible transitional year for me beyond anything I could have imagined.

I've been searching for that stupid mustard seed for so long, I realize that what I really need is to accept what I have and grow from it.

I am so in love with so many things right now.

And I love you all.

[/b]


MODS: This isn't really meant to be a philosophical debate. I'm just sharing my profound an almost fathomless compassion with some of the assholes in here.

"Do not struggle, good woman," said Buddha. "Be at peace. Accept your life as a gift. Take the days as they come one by one. Fill them as full of kindness as you can."

Imago said:

Hot mess.

Seriously Dan, I don't know a lot about this Eastern religion stuff. Was Buddha some kind of a ninja or something?

Two people I was very close to died last year, and it was incredibly hard to deal with. The only thing that offered any comfort was to talk to people who were also going through it or who had already gone through it. After a while, even friends with the best of intentions but who hadn't experienced loss couldn't really relate and didn't quite know what to say.

Thanks for sharing the story, Imago.

I really would prefer the CliffsNotes version of this post, if possible...

2the9s said:

He was a Prince, much like our own singer.

Then he got tired being the white man's slave or something like that and went in to the woods for a few years (his symbol years if you will).

He came back not as the new Vegas style Prince but as Cat Stevens, ironically before his conversion to Islam.


It makes a great read.

Efan said:

I think when you share something with someone who has gone through it, you realize even as much as it hurts , that you're not being picked on--it's just part of the pervasive nature of pain in all human existence. If one views life this way, how could they NOT embrace compassion?

Imago said:

Did he sue the mustard seed? (I didn't really read it.)

2the9s said:

In billowy clothes.

do wordy threads EVAH go over well??

JerseyKRS said:

You assholes.

This could have been the esoteric version of a photowhore thread.

Well, the number of replies sort of reaffirms that.