http://www.llresearch.org/transcripts/i … 5_1215.htm
Once there was a boy with a wise father. This young man was eager to be of service and to show through his life the love and the light of the one infinite Creator. He questioned his father concerning all of the choices which presented themselves to him as he looked for the best way to be of service.
“Shall I go to be a soldier to protect my country and to stand for the ideals upon which our nation is founded?“?
“That is a way to serve,“? answered the wise father. The young man thought. This was not a “yes“? nor was it a “no,“? but as intensely as he questioned his father, his father would say no more.
“Shall I then be an athlete who can win the ears and the hearts of many because of my skill?“?
“That would certainly be a way to be of service,“? said the wise father. And he would say no more.
“Shall I learn to play and sing music and share that gift, and as I gain in fame, serve the many who listen to the words of my songs?“? asked the young man of his father. The answer was the same.
The well-intentioned son suggested as many ways to be of service as he could think of. The father was no more in favor of one way than another.
Finally, exasperated, the son said, “Well, then, shall I become a hobo, to walk along the streets and the roads of the country and the city and get my living by asking for money from strangers?“?
“That would be a way to be of service,“? said the unruffled father.
By this time the son had become thoroughly upset. “I shall choose a life of crime,“? he said to his father. “I shall take what I wish, go whither I wish, and experience the freedom of being above the law.“?
“That is a way to be of service,“? came the answer from the wise father.
For many days the young man pondered what he knew to be a secret which he had not discovered and that was how best to be of service. He was capable of doing many things, but could not choose among them.
As the young man’s life progressed onward, it shaped itself. The young man met and wed a young woman for whom he felt passion. Soon there were children and he found what job he could and worked very hard to support his family. The young man became a man in his middle years, still as dedicated as ever to serving, but unable to puzzle out what he should have done. It was a source of anguish to him, for he knew he was not a wise man, only a good man. He was unable to give his sons the dispassionate advice that his father had given him, for he did not understand his father’s cryptic comment. But he questioned and continued questioning.
And as he grew in years, as his physical vehicle began to show the effects of the planet’s turning around the sun time after time, he felt that he had begun to penetrate that which his father was attempting to tell him so many years ago. So he went to his father, who was by then an aged man, and he said to him, “My father, it has been the goal of my life to be of service, and yet of all the things that I thought of, all of which you said would be helpful to others, I did none. Instead, I did that which I did not comprehend or anticipate. And many things have occurred. And I believe now that I begin to understand that which you say.“?
“Very good, my son,“? his father said, “Please tell me so that I may bask in the reflection of my wisdom.“?
The son, never able to feel quite adult around his father, was suddenly bashful, for he was not sure, after all, that he had begun to understand.
“Well, father,“? he faltered, “I think I have found that service is something I cannot see.“?
“Very good, my son,“? said his father. “What else?“?
“Well,“? continued the son, “I believe I have begun to see that I do not see very well.“?
“Very good, my son,“? said the father. “What else?“?
The son mustered up his courage. “Father, I believe that I am of service, and that I cannot help being of service.“?
“Sit down, my son,“? said the delighted father, “for now we can talk together.
The son sat quickly, eager to listen to his beloved father unravel the riddle at last. The father pointed to the springtime flowers nodding in the breeze. “Which one of those flowers, my son, is not beautiful?“?
“Oh, they are all beautiful,“? answered the son.
“And upon what do you base this opinion?“? asked the father.
“The evidence of my eyes and my nose and my touch,“? said the son.
The father pointed to several flowers which had withered early.
“Do you find these beautiful?“? the father asked.
“No,“? replied the son, “they are dead. They should be removed from the bed. I did not see them before.“?
“It is time for you to consider,“? said his father, “whether you are alive or dead. For if you are alive, you are as beautiful and fragrant and lovely to the touch as any other human that dwells upon the planet. You may be a great president and run a country well, you may inspire by writing or by the singing of songs and poetry you may inspire many. You may heal or you may feed your family. Or, indeed, you may do nothing. But if you are alive within yourself, if you question rather than accepting blindly, then you are precisely as beautiful as those who share your condition, your illusion, and your density.“?
