There was once a rich merchant who had 4 daughters. He loved the 4th daughter the most and adorned her with rich robes and treated her to delicacies. He took great care of her and gave her nothing but the best, satisfying her every whim.
"No! I am sorry but I prefer to stay here." replied the 4th daughter and she walked away without another word. The answer cut like a sharp knife right into the merchant's heart. The sad merchant then asked the 3rd daughter, "I have loved you so much for all your life. Now that I'm leaving, will you come with me and keep me company?"
"No!" replied the 3rd daughter. "Life is so good here! I am planning on getting married very soon and having my own family.” The merchant's heart sank and turned cold.
Then a voice called out : "I'll leave with you. I'll come with you no matter where you go." The merchant looked up and there was his first daughter. She was so thin, almost like she suffered from malnutrition. Greatly grieved, the merchant saw how little help she could be in that unhealthy state and said, "I should have taken much better care of you while I could have !"
Actually, we all have 4 daughters in our lives and our arduous, if not dangerous, journey is our passing away from this body at death.
- The 4th daughter is our body. A precious possession to be cared for and maintained but no matter how much time and effort we lavish in making it look good, we will leave it when we die.
- Our 3rd daughter? Our possessions, status and wealth. We prize them highly and guard them carefully but when we die, they all go to others.
- The 2nd daughter is our family and friends. No matter how close they have been while we live, the furthest they can stand by us is up to the grave.
- The 1st daughter is our spiritual life, often neglected in our pursuit of other, more transient goals, and the only possession we have that we take with us when we leave our bodies, continuing on our eternal journey.
Perhaps it's a good idea to cultivate and strengthen our spiritual lives now rather than waiting until we're on our deathbed to lament.