In my prime, a single twitch of my brow could set the whole world trembling. When something annoyed me—and something always did—I would hiss and growl and flail my arms and legs as though conducting a symphony of rage. Sometimes, I tossed my hat into the mud. “Ruined!” I would shout. Then I’d demand that my workers pay for a new one. After all, wasn’t it their incompetence that had driven me to such theatrical despair?
Behind my back, people whispered of my coldness, but no one dared say it to my face. My crops fed the entire region, and nearly everyone owed me money. They bowed their heads when I passed. I thought I deserved it. At times, I believed I did not walk on earth at all, I hovered just above it, untouchable, weightless.
Consumed by arrogance and selfishness, I turned my home into a barren, loveless void, treating both family and visitors as mere nuisances. I even denied myself the simplest pleasures. And the money—oh, the money—I clung to it like a drowning man to driftwood. I gave nothing: not a coin, not a smile, not a single moment of generosity. What I didn’t realize was that destiny had already begun rewriting my story.
First came the thieves. I can still picture them laughing as they divided my belongings. Then came the flood. Then the fire. The silent thief, time itself, withered my crops and emptied my barns. What little remained was stolen by those I once called my family. Then the faceless vultures of the government arrived and drained what was left.
When the final coin slipped through my fingers, I found myself standing alone on the empty ground of what had once been my empire. I, the man who had once conquered all, was now desolate, consumed by the tragedy of my own making. Anxiety consumed me, intensifying with every passing day. My throat was tight with tears I refused to shed.
Then something happened.
I fell into contemplation. For the first time in my life, clarity pierced the fog of my delusions. What had I truly achieved? I had pushed myself to the brink, obsessing over wealth I never used. I clung desperately to accumulation, blind to the poison growing within. Envy, greed, lies, and anger were the bitter fruits of my so-called treasure. I thought of my wife, my sons, the friends I had driven away. Even the smallest sum could corrupt a man, turning love to hatred in a heartbeat. And I had played my part, leading a life of contention rather than harmony.
This human life, so fleeting, is a gateway to something greater, whether one calls it heaven, enlightenment, or liberation. And yet, I had squandered it. My youth was wasted chasing illusions. I believed wealth would grant me power and happiness, but it had only chained me to suffering. Why couldn’t I see it before? Why did I let my life slip through my fingers in such a futile endeavor?
What use was gold to a man whose time was nearly spent? What joy remained in sense gratification for a body that had lost its vigor? My suffering—though excruciating—began to feel like a gift. It was no accident. It was the hand of God, mercifully stripping away my distractions and forcing me to see the truth. He had given me a second chance.
If time remained, I resolved to change. I would reduce my life to its bare necessities. I would embrace simplicity and solitude, turning inward. I would perform austerities, seeking no satisfaction in gold or fleeting pleasures, but in the light of the spirit within. With each breath that remained, I would dedicate myself to this path, crossing the vast ocean of material life to the shores of liberation. The knots of desire that once strangled my heart slowly loosened. I turned my back on the life I had known and embraced the path of renunciation, becoming a wandering mendicant.
My days were filled with silence and introspection. I kept my senses, mind, and life force under strict control, walking alone through cities and villages to beg for alms. To the people, I was just another old, ragged beggar. In their ignorance, rowdy youths and sinful men would insult me. They snatched away my staff, my waterpot, my chanting beads—even my deerskin seat. These items had little material value, but they were precious tools for my spiritual practice.
Some would mock me, pretending to return these items only to snatch them away again, laughing as they paraded them before me. One day, as I sat on a riverbank with the modest meal I had begged for, a group of youths approached. Before I could raise a single morsel to my lips, they urinated on my food and spat on my head. I remained silent. My vows held my tongue still, though the humiliation burned within like fire. Frustrated by my silence, they beat me with sticks.
“This thief deserves it!” they shouted. Their words pierced the last remnants of my pride like arrows. Some who recognized me as the once-wealthy merchant called me a fraud—claiming I had turned to religion only after my riches were gone and my family had disowned me.
Yet through it all, I remained unshaken. My heart knew this suffering was not their doing—it was providence. A cleansing fire sent to burn away the last stains of ego and illusion. Fever, hunger, thirst, fatigue, and the extremes of heat, cold, and rain were all trials designed to purify my soul. I knew I deserved it. I had created my own misfortune through my cruelty, my avarice, my arrogance. My suffering did not come from the outside world. It arose from my mind, a mind enslaved for too long by desire and deceit. Like a mirror, it reflected the chaos of the material world and pulled me into its illusions. I, the eternal soul, had embraced that mirror and believed it was me.
I continuously recited this prayer:
“I will overcome the ocean of ignorance by staying dedicated to serving God with love and devotion. This path has been walked and approved by wise teachers who were deeply devoted to the Supreme Being.”
Through this meditation, I grew detached. The people’s cruelty, the discomfort of my body—none of it held power over me anymore. My true self, a spark of the Supreme Spirit, stood beyond their reach. And so, with firm faith in God, I resolved to deepen my consciousness, to surrender fully to the eternal truth. For in that surrender, I had finally found the peace that no wealth and no worldly achievement could ever provide. My heart is unburdened and walks free.