Tag Archives: Story

Zen Stories : The Gift of Insults

There once lived a great warrior. Though quite old, he still was able to defeat any challenger. His reputation extended far and wide throughout the land and many students gathered to study under him.

One day an infamous young warrior arrived at the village. He was determined to be the first man to defeat the great master. Along with his strength, he had an uncanny ability to spot and exploit any weakness in an opponent. He would wait for his opponent to make the first move, thus revealing a weakness, and then would strike with merciless force and lightning speed. No one had ever lasted with him in a match beyond the first move.

Much against the advice of his concerned students, the old master gladly accepted the young warrior’s challenge. As the two squared off for battle, the young warrior began to hurl insults at the old master. He threw dirt and spit in his face. For hours he verbally assaulted him with every curse and insult known to mankind. But the old warrior merely stood there motionless and calm. Finally, the young warrior exhausted himself. Knowing he was defeated, he left feeling shamed.

Somewhat disappointed that he did not fight the insolent youth, the students gathered around the old master and questioned him. “How could you endure such an indignity? How did you drive him away?”

“If someone comes to give you a gift and you do not receive it,” the master replied, “to whom does the gift belong?”

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Story of Buddha by Nina Yin

“The importance of oneself.

Should not be important at all.

In essence we are natural.

But natural is not our essence

Until we are enlightened”

-Nina

 

Buddha’s mother couldn’t get pregnant, one night she had a dream, visited by an elephant carrying a lotus, the elephant touched the side of her stomach.

The Queen was pregnant.

After Buddha’s birth he was taken to a guru.

Born into a royal family

Saddat (Buddha)  was to be a ruling king that the world had never seen….or a holy man (The Buddha) said the Guru.

His father tried desperately to hide the truth for many years, wishing he would never see suffering, and forever was to be indulging him in Luxury.

Saddat lived luxurious for many years but needed to find enlightenment, to understand his questions of life not found in self indulgence.

Saddat ran from the castle, his family and wealth.

He shaved his head and lived in homelessness.

-In Buddhism: Peace is found in poverty and without worldly things.-

After countless years of different practices and teachings.

Starving oneself for many years, practicing ancient rituals and studying….

Saddat took up starving oneself, thinking the key to enlightenment was to be without anything human to need nothing…

….he became but a skeleton…

His eyes deep in his skull like a light at a bottom of a dark well.

This was not the way.

Saddat was the most malnourished, deep in this practice.

But one day.

He got up from meditation.

He was given rice porridge by a woman walking by.

The others were shocked and exclaimed “Saddat loves luxury!”

Ashamed of him, but.

Buddha realized

There is good, in our lives, good that we need and is important.

Under a the boddhi tree sat meditating.

The Sun moved through the sky but the shadow of his tree did not move, the tree kept him comfortable,

He touched the ground connected with the universe and unto Buddha he became.

People from all over sought his teachings.

He taught for many more years to his disciples.

Noble truths,

compassion

and the way

enlightenment.

 

“It’s time for me to go”. He exclaimed.

“I will be in Nirvana”.

*Enlightened*, placing his hand to the earth.

leaving his teachings behind.

Forever.

-Nina Yin

 

Without Fear : Zen Master

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Without Fear

During the civil wars in feudal Japan, an invading army would quickly sweep into a town and take control. In one particular village, everyone fled just before the army arrived – everyone except the Zen master. Curious about this old fellow, the general went to the temple to see for himself what kind of man this master was. When he wasn’t treated with the deference and submissiveness to which he was accustomed, the general burst into anger.

“You fool,” he shouted as he reached for his sword, “don’t you realize you are standing before a man who could run you through without blinking an eye!”

But despite the threat, the master seemed unmoved. “And do you realize,” the master replied calmly, “that you are standing before a man who can be run through without blinking an eye?”

“”Happy are those who do not fear death. They know no fear and therefore cannot be controlled.”

– Nina

Masterpiece and Spontaneity. A zen story.

Masterpiece

A master calligrapher was writing some characters onto a piece of paper. One of his especially perceptive students was watching him. When the calligrapher was finished, he asked for the student’s opinion – who immediately told him that it wasn’t any good. The master tried again, but the student criticized the work again.

Over and over, the calligrapher carefully redrew the same characters, and each time the student rejected it. Finally, when the student had turned his attention away to something else and wasn’t watching, the master seized the opportunity to quickly dash off the characters. “There! How’s that?,” he asked the student. The student turned to look. “THAT…. is a masterpiece!” he exclaimed.

Meanings: “Originality is what makes each of us a masterpiece. Don’t stick to the same old way of doing things.”

“Stop thinking and just do what’s natural for you, instead of what’s expected. Some of our best work is done when we least expect it.”

“You can’t perform perfectly under the watch of critical eyes. When you don’t force perfection, it happens by itself, spontaneously. Great things happen when you least suspect it.”

“Whenever you watch over someone you make them self-conscious and uncreative. It’s like trying to teach a child. If you let them alone they will usually figure it out themselves and it will be great.” – See

With the Flow: Zen Stories

imagesA Taoist story tells of an old man who accidentally fell into the river rapids leading to a high and dangerous waterfall.

Onlookers feared for his life.

Miraculously, he came out alive and unharmed downstream at the bottom of the falls.

People asked him how he managed to survive…

“I accommodated myself to the water, not the water to me.

Without thinking, I allowed myself to be shaped by it. Plunging into the swirl, I came out with the swirl.

This is how I survived.”

 

-Zen Story

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Nina Shade ( Nina Yin) Goodnightnina – Dreams / Every Night (Slam poetry over J Dilla)

Lyrics:

Dreams….

I dream every night. It’s like I don’t sleep; I’m far to busy venturing rivers and streams, painting graffiti on infinite trains.

My dreams are what dreams are made of. My mind is the money so my vacation is paid up.

Tropical paradises on every turn. I’ve never seen so many gorgeous baby blue pools with pearls twirling my world.

I can fly if I want to and explore. I’m getting good, in fact I’m better than Peter pan. Taking off is tricky but I always land.

My dreams have music so I wake up singing with love. Lyrics that no conscious mind could think of.

My dreams have more amusing amusement parks than Californi and Dubai put together. My subconscious really got her shit together.

I have nightmares worst than Steven kings, but I’ve been into horror flicks since I was a kid.

But this is real time 3d and if it’s too deep I wake up n have some tea.

I dream.

Every.

Single.

Night.

I get lost in pitch black in my bed on a trip LSD couldn’t bring to light.

I get to live past futures; in surreal movements, clearer than glass to my mind when it computes it.

But my minds far more complex. More convex it sees more than I can comprehend.

How many times I saw the end or woke up to a new beginning, open my eyes and the rooms spinning,

Damn I’m dizzy that was trippy.

What were those lyrics I heard angels signings?

I turn the light on.

I got the light, write before it’s gone.

Pick up a pen and write down this midnight song.

-Nina

Myself : Part. 1 *

I’m going to attempt to write more about myself,

my life.

Part 1.

      I was always different for sure. Too much too handle for pretty much anyone I grew up with, became friends with or had relationships with. I was kicked out of home at a young age, bipolar disorder and an addictive personality: constantly lit or trying to get high or drugged out and party…being homeless and running the streets with kid gangs basically. Doing petty crimes and shit it was stupid. I’ve changed a lot.

Being transgender only started to blossom when I turned 18, living in a crack shack that the government called a “group home”. Starting to dress how I wanted to …I liked getting drunk, a lot. I’ve always had hobbies and passions but mixing em up with drugs and alcohol was deemed necessary on a daily basis. I also thought drinking was giving me the courage to dress how I wanted.

I’ve been in a few abusive relationships, somehow managing to graduate college and various courses that peaked my interest. When I worked construction it was like selling my feminine soul and I hated myself for it for over 7 years. But nevertheless at 25 I started hormones and transitioned into myself; female full time. I have zero regrets. I have no doubt in my mind of who I am and the choice I made was right.

Since I transitioned Ive had several jobs, schools and was never really targeted for being a trans woman. But I had been partying for a living… for a year…the drugs twisted my mind. I met my girlfriend online, she helped me get out of the trap. She encourages me to peruse any art, job or school I like and I’m happy. Sober. In Love. I can’t get enough and it’s like I’m comfortable for the first time you know?

I’m good.

Dedicated to my girl.

Love Nina

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Searching – Nina

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She was the emotional type, Unsure if she’ intro or extroverted.

She didn’t know if she wanted to volunteer or do crime ;at times it’s worth it.

She didn’t know if the world is real, standing still, if she’d grown up ,or was still just a kid.

She didn’t know if she’s good or bad, happy or sad and she REALLY never knew all the things that she had.

It’s because she didn’t know that she continued to grow.

Searching for answers.

That she never would know.

 

Nina

 

Night’s with my love.

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My eyes glimmer with reflections of the street lights passing by and my eyeshadow flashes green. The cold air makes me lick my pouty red lips. I’m ghostly in the winter; like a geisha. You can tell I’m deep in thought. And you wonder what I’m thinking about….

To LC

Love Nina

Lost-Memoirs of hallucinatory delusions and psychosis. – Nina

mistymountains_by_taenaron-d6i3a1pI don’t know when this all began….It’s kind of a blur. Okay, it’s really a blur.

I remember being by the river with junkies. Calling them my friends but not knowing their names. Skater junkies, one of them was homeless and I was his tour guide for the day. They were smoking meth or crack from a lightbulb, I’m not really sure…

I might have been smoking weed because  I know I was euphoricphoric and anxious treading through the hot sun from park to park, malnourished.

Something inside me cracked.

Dynamite in the distance.  They  say It’s supposed to be stolen, kids stealing small dynamite from the railroad companies.

I don’t even know what year it was..

Next thing I remember I was at home.

But I really remember the windows. Night

The upstairs windows reflected evil and translucent, mysterious in nature, watching me; From all angles because in my delirious mind windows had the capability to watch me from different angles but…. someone was showing me exactly what they wanted me to see and I knew it was not real. Like the outside world was just a TV screen, the world I knew was non existent.

The television early the next morning was somewhat of a magic window as well but…Through THIS magic window I see visions dancing and shimmering along the grass. I am young I’m just a kid who’s lost somewhere… I look through the window… a kid like me. Is that me? Under a tree where beautiful poems foretell my future. I see me. Painting and about to embark on my destiny.

This positivity couldn’t last long ….amidst a war…

…. But I hadnt been sleeping. …Amplified sounds, dynamite and gunshots, bangs and chainsaws, screaming echoing throughout this valley… you could say… .slightly distracting me?

Ambushing enemies by jumping directly through the window is something odd I had to do… to enlighten the world….because whispering in my ear, in reality I was whispering to myself but in my mind it was them, they were begging for it.

I know I’mm being watched…. Through other magic windows…I’m scared“I think that this is too unreal but I can’t wake up from this nightmare.

. .I sense a Mass suicide along the musty mountains, especially in the daytime… on my journeys through the neighborhood market and community bus gypsies and fortune tellers can see my darkness they sense it’s truth and they have been long storytellers.

But I am a goddess. God or what have you. Some sort of luminous being… bringing compassion. Flashbacks on my goals to save the world….I call out to them but I’m laughed at and called an imposter by my mother. My own mother

Not only my mother but the media as well. They portrayed me pissing on the tree of life but the truth was far from it.

I was watching anime on a 13 inch TV . A war episode, maybe gundam wing…

Fighter jets and gunships rattle my cottage on the ocean faster than the speed of sound so I jump out the window and they are already gone. The beauty of my delusional ideology literally brought to life in front of my face.

I’ve stopped taking my medication because I still didn’t understand what was going on with me… I spend my time wandering the neighborhood…..

there’s a baby crying. Why crying? What does it mean. Why am I here? I walk in and am threatened and arrested moments after. I had no idea what was going on….

Not before long I am captured down the dusty alley. Taken and stripped naked following multiple injections. Solitary confinement; a prisoner of war in my own eyes to be tortured and experimented on (partial truths) cloned, drugged, raped and interrogated in my mind….

“Why are you so scared?”  The doctors ask. “What are you afraid of….”.

I’m afraid of you. Devils in suits… I thought.

Alone and afraid I hear a piano from the distance. It’s.. so beautiful and I begin to cry. Harder than I’ve ever cried. I was thankful for something so deep. A change. A friend….

I made a friend with the music and a friend with Ali…. for a moment all at ease….

I made my escape after 2 weeks.  But I think I’m getting lost again. It’s easy to get lost in these mountains… the mountains by the ocean….. “it’s not the same any more is it?” Ali asked.

“No” I replied. ” it’s not,”.

Dedicated to Ali.

Rest in Peace.

By Nina Shade Vestergaard