Murshid's car

Later, in 1925, Murshid went to Paris alone, several times, without telling us children where he was going. He only said that it was a secret, and that we would know that secret soon.
One day, he returned form his short trips to Paris, more joyously than ever before, which smiles and sunshine in his eyes, and of course, we all hurried around him, hoping to know the secret at last; when, to our great surprise, our Father took a pink card out of his wallet and placed it very solemnly on the table. It was his driving license, just obtained successfully that same day, at the Versigny Driving School at Porte Maillot in Paris.
Naturally, it is needless to. say how tremendously happy we all were about this most unexpected event, besides of course, our considerable enthusiasm at the thought of going on car drives with our Father in his own car.
Murshid had received a car, as a special gift offered to him by Henry Ford, who had it shipped all the way to Paris from the factories in Detroit. That present was sent as a token of gratitude for the spiritual help received, as well for the historical lectures which Murshid had given to thousands of workman of the Ford Factories, and which had contributed so much to the well known success of Henry Ford’s humanitarian motivations in the industrial activities of his gigantic enterprises.
Some mureeds were extremely astonished about Murshid’s achievement in such a non-mystical experience; whereas others were deeply struck by the lesson thereby revealed, in the most wonderful example of a complete, balanced condition in all types of activities, whether spiritual or material.
Nevertheless, whatever were the different opinions of the mureeds, it certainly was for all a most fascinating picture to see Murshid driving his own car in the «Kingly Way», as they used to say, while he drove at a majestic tempo through the streets of Sureness.

Bowl of saki

15 Nov Wisdom is not in words, it is in understanding.


Woman is woman, whether in the East or in the West.


How few realize that the heart is like a dome, within which all, whether good or bad, re-echoes, creating thereby either uplifting or disturbing influences that become in time the characteristics of one's own personality. The finer the go, the less disturbing it is to others, although life's trials become much harder to endure. A thorn does not harm its likeness, but it can destroy the frailty of a delicate rose. Nevertheless, life is better lived as a rose, with its inspiring colour and fragrance, than as a thorn among other thorns. This is what is understood as the art of personality.

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