Did you do something different to the place?

There's a buddhist parable I sometimes ponder. It starts with a house. Inside the house lived a father and his three sons. The obvious gender bias in the parable should not yet detract, because these men are about to embark on a rather interesting journey...of sorts. This house was on fire. The father, being both a patriarch AND wise, recognized the danger of a flaming home and tried to coax his progeny to safety. The endeavor was in vain, not because the sons felt the warmth of burning timber was particularly fetching, but rather because they were completely unaware of the impending doom surrounding them. In fact the sons were so enamoured with the glittering baubles that littered their death trap, they could not be convinced that there was or ever would danger in remaining there. Try as he may, the father was unable to convince them otherwise. Eventually, Hippined to their materialistic game, He decided to abandon hope that his children would open their eyes to the truth of their surroundings. Instead, he settled for luring them to safety with the promise of an even greater gilded glory. To the Sons he said, "My children, outside awaits carts filled with treasures more than you see before you here." The bid of luxury was sufficiently strong, and the sons rushed to safety, expecting to find what was promised them.

I suppose if you have boddhi-clination (as I like to call it), you would point out to me that the father and burning house bare an uncanny resemblance to Buddha and the great Karmic cycle respectively. I, being neither buddhist nor too religiously informed would likely smile and nod. I guess I might feel the tiniest amount of humiliation in revealing, to a boddhisattva such as yourself, that to me this is a story of human survival and not supreme enlightenment.

I hava a friend....we'll call her....Sassandra. She recently woke to find a fire lapping at the fringe of her bed sheets. Now, Sassandra, being no bauble beguiled fool, hastily transported her inflammable ass to a less toasty locale. However, it seems that, in her well informed haste, she left behind her reluctant heart. So what does one do to protect it's most vitalist of organs, most seatiest of soul positions? How can one's heart be coaxed from the perilous emotional conflagration plaguing all of our lives? Do we allow it to linger amongst the memories-resign it to a crispy fate? Or do we lure it away with the promise of all that was and more? I'm sure, by the parable chosen, it's easy to deduce to what tactics our young protagonist resorted.

I suppose at the end of the day, lying about a cart full of trinkets in an effort to save your loved ones from eternal suffering is a sin smaller than lying to yourself about emotional salvation in exchange for the opportunity to temporarily inhabit another house before playing the entire flame game all over again. But I like the parable none the less.