The Great Laughing Master
There was a legend of The Great Laughing Master who became popular years ago, and had a large following that had become an encampment on the foothills of a mountain range somewhere in South East Asia. His reputation was of course, as is with most Gurus, mixed. Some had their lives changed for the better upon having an audience with The Great Laughing Master, others lost everything and fell into despair.
An intrepid reporter for a major newspaper got wind of this, and after mentioning it to her copy editor, was assigned to go find out what the real story was. She got all the necessary visas and vaccinations, a backpack, sleeping bag, and tent, and along with her trusty journalist’s notebook, traveled to the far East. What she found was amazing at first. The encampment was huge, vibrant and more like a festival than an ashram. There were hawkers, vendors, street artists, porta-potties, even showers. She found that the line to see The Great Laughing Master was a queue of tents that stretched for miles, and would take months to get to the front, so she settled down, and inched forward, moving her tent forward every couple days. Along the way she talked to many people and a recurring theme began to emerge. It seemed that devotees would spend months in the line, to just be laughed at. Many became dejected and desolate, expecting more than to be ridiculed after giving up their careers, homes, families to visit the Great Laughing Master. And yet, there was also a spark of something hard to describe in those who were enthusiastic about the experience. As her tent got closer to the big tent, she could hear the peals of deep laughter, and see the dejected devotees, who lost everything to have a brief audience based on word of mouth, wandering out in a daze. Her journalistic instincts got lost in a sea of rage, as she could not help feeling anger at such a seeming injustice. How could this be, she wondered seething at what she saw.
Finally the day arrived when she was at the front of the line, and was eventually ushered into the big tent by a couple of serene, smiling devotees dressed in white muslin, who wished her well. There sitting on a pad, in front of a small altar, with rather sparse surroundings, was a large Buddha-like character beaming with an all knowing smile, who said in a booming friendly voice, as she stood stunned: “Welcome. It is wonderful to seen you again, my beloved.” She sensed a sequence of brief flashes of scenes and events in her mind’s eye, accompanied by a flurry of fleeting emotions, almost like sometimes happens when almost awake and recollecting dreams from the night before.
Then, her stunned state snapped, and all the rage she had been bottling up came gushing out in a string of expletives about the injustice, the unfairness, how could he take advantage of them, how could he mislead them, did he know what happened to them, on and on. He sat calmly smiling through the barrage, and after she collapsed when her anger was spent, one of the devotees gently guided her to a comfortable pad, brought her some water, tea and refreshments. Then he said: “My dear, if every day, bright lights of unlimited nature came to you asking how they could become enlightened and unlimited, what would you do?” She was stunned again as the realization hit her in a flash, a “eureka” moment. “Now you remember.” he said. She looked at him with the tears still streaming down her face, as the anger morphed into to mirth. “Oh my God” she whispered, to which he replied, still beaming: “Which one? There are so many.” Then she joined him in what started as belly laughs, then became peals of laughter as lifetimes of pent up tension left her body. She stood up, asked if he would join her, and gave him a heartfelt hug as he said: “We are still in the early stage of the Breath of the Brahma. There is much to remember, so many timelines to weave together.” This time she was not stunned, just nodded at him, then walked out of the big tent, smiling. She did eventually write a story for the paper as it was contractually required, and after all, the paper had paid for her travels. She did however keep the rights to her writings, and they eventually became a best selling book, and movie, which enabled her to retire modestly but comfortably and do what she loved: share stories that uplifted the reader and planted seeds for future generations.