There was once a certain rabbi who received a visit from a man who was full of complaints about life. While the rabbi listened, the man described the misery of his health – eyes, ears, teeth, joints, digestion, you name it! – the selfishness of his wife and children, and the conniving wickedness of his business associates. Even the weather, it seemed, was against him.
Finally, the rabbi said, “With so many complaints, you should write a letter to God.”
“What good could that do?” the man asked sourly.
“Considering your condition, what harm could it do?” the rabbi replied, and finally persuaded the man that a letter right now was the only strategy under the circumstances. Then, from his desk, he brought forth a pen and a piece of paper which he put before the man. But the sheet was already covered with writing – every corner, both sides, from bottom to top.
The man looked at the rabbi in consternation. “Rabbi, how can I write when the page is already full?”
“And don’t you think that God says the same thing?” replied the rabbi. “Each one of us is a sheet of paper on which God wishes to write. If we are full of complaints and prejudices, there is no place for his pen. If we are a blank sheet, he writes lessons for us every moment of our life.”
Oh to be a blank sheet of paper.
Free to carry no wait.
A breath into every corner.
A stream of wisdom within.