Mulla Nasruddin was famously odd, but one of the wisest men. Beneath his apparent foolishness, there was a keen perception that cut straight to the truth. ( )

Mulla Nasruddin was famously odd, but one of the wisest men. Beneath his apparent foolishness, there was a keen perception that cut straight to the truth. ( )

Very fun short stories about the foolish Wise Man Nasrudin. One example, he said he could see at night as well as during the day. When someone saw him at night carrying a lantern, they asked him why, if he could see at night. "So you won't run into me," he answered.

If you like Fool stories, that carry hidden kernels of wisdom, this is the book for you. ( )

The foolish-wisdom of Nasrudin, legendary Sufi Mulla of the 13th century:

‘What is the meaning of fate, Mulla?’
‘Assumptions.’
‘In what way?’
‘You assume things are going to go well and they don’t - that you call bad luck. You assume things are going to go badly and they don’t - that you call good luck. You assume that certain things are going to happen or not happen - and you so lack intuition that you don’t know what is going to happen. You assume that the future is unknown.
‘When you are caught out - you call that Fate.’ pg. 20

'Where do we come from and where do we go to, and what is it like?' thundered a wandering dervish.
'I don’t know,' said Nasrudin, 'but it must be pretty terrible.'
A bystander asked him why.
'Observation shows me that when we arrive as babies we are crying. And many of us leave crying and reluctantly, too.' pg. 146

The Holy-Fool demonstrates synchronicity:
Nasrudin was penniless, and sat huddled in a blanket while the wind howled outside. ‘At least,’ he thought, ‘the people next door will not smell cooking from my kitchen - so they can’t send round to cadge some food.’
At that the thought of hot, aromatic soup came into his mind, and he savored it mentally for several minutes.
There came a knocking on the door. ‘Mother sent me,’ said the little daughter of his neighbour, ‘to ask whether you had any soup to spare, hot, seasoned soup.’
‘Heaven help us,’ said Nasrudin, ‘the neighbors even smell my thoughts.’ pg. 149