The Summit of Humility
On a serene mountain summit,
where the wind carried whispers of ancient wisdom, a monk sat in peaceful
silence. A young man soon joined him, his posture strong and confident.
The monk looked at him gently
and asked, "What is it that you do, my son?"
The young man puffed his chest
slightly and replied, "I am a martial arts expert."
A soft smile crossed the monk's
weathered face. "What a pleasure to meet you, dear young man."
The young man nodded, returning
the smile with quiet pride.
After a short pause, the monk
spoke again. "May I offer you a piece of advice?"
With sudden humility, the young
man bowed his head. "Yes, Master. I would be honoured to receive not just
one, but many pieces of advice from you."
The monk's eyes twinkled like
morning stars. "When I asked what you do, you called yourself an 'expert.'
Never say that. Let the world decide if you are an expert. And even if the
world crowns you with that title, keep walking. Don't stop to admire the statue
they've made of you."
He continued, his voice calm yet
piercing, "Instead, call yourself a teacher. Why? Because a teacher is an
eternal learner. A teacher knows there are miles to go before they sleep. The
moment you embrace the word 'teacher,' you open yourself to being taught. You
remain a student forever."
The monk leaned forward
slightly. "Let the word 'expert' find its home in the dictionary—but never
in your head, and never in your vocabulary."
The young man stepped back as
though struck by a gentle wave. He bent his head low, and when he looked up
again, his eyes were no longer proud, but grateful.
With grace, he whispered,
"Thank you, Master."
The monk nodded.
"Remember:
yesterday's experts are obsolete today. And today's experts will be obsolete
tomorrow—unless they learn to wear the hat of a teacher."
M.L. Narendra Kumar
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