Borrow Freely. Kneel to No One.
An Insight from Ripples of the Mind
There is an old Zen saying:
“If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.”
At first glance it sounds shocking—almost disrespectful.
It isn’t.
It isn’t a rejection of the Buddha.
It is a warning against surrendering your own awakening to someone else’s.
Throughout our lives we meet remarkable teachers. Some arrive through books. Others through mentors, friends, parents, or complete strangers. A philosopher may change how we think. A martial artist may change how we move. A poet may change how we feel. Nature itself may quietly change how we see the world.
Their gifts are real.
Receive them with gratitude.
Learn from them.
Respect them.
But never hand them the keys to your own conscience.
One of the greatest gifts we have been given is the ability to examine our own lives.
To think.
To question.
To observe.
To discover.
That responsibility cannot be delegated.
No teacher, philosopher, coach, religion, or movement can ultimately do that work for us.
They can point.
Only we can walk.
This thought came to me while reflecting on something as ordinary as a bee.
Each morning a bee leaves the hive with remarkable clarity.
It doesn’t compare itself to the other bees.
It doesn’t wonder whether another bee has more stripes, flies faster, or found a better flower yesterday.
It simply responds to its purpose.
It gathers what is nourishing.
It contributes to the whole.
Then it returns home.
The bee does not waste its day reacting to every disturbance around it.
It responds.
Perhaps there is a lesson hidden in that tiny teacher.
Stephen Covey wrote about the space between stimulus and response.
Bob Proctor often spoke about choosing to respond rather than react.
Long before them, Stoic philosophers reminded us that we cannot always control what happens to us, but we can govern how we respond.
Different voices.
Different centuries.
The same invitation.
Borrow freely.
But kneel to no one.
There is another lesson hidden within the bee.
When threatened, the bee reacts by stinging.
In doing so, it injures another…
…and it also gives up its own life.
How often do we do something similar?
An angry email.
A cutting remark.
A grudge we carry for years.
A conversation we replay in our minds long after it has ended.
Every reaction leaves a sting somewhere.
Sometimes in another person.
Often within ourselves.
A response, however, begins with a pause.
A breath.
A choice.
That small space may be where character is quietly cultivated.
Over the years I have read the words of Marcus Aurelius, Seneca, Viktor Frankl, Stephen Covey, Bob Proctor, Miyamoto Musashi, Joseph Murphy, and many others.
I am grateful to every one of them.
I have also learned from rivers, trees, sunrises, quiet country roads, and yes…even bees.
None of them ask me to become them.
Each quietly invites me to become more fully myself.
That may be the greatest lesson any teacher can offer.
Perhaps wisdom is not about finding someone to follow.
Perhaps it is about becoming honest enough to discover what is already waiting within us.
Receive every gift with gratitude.
Question it.
Test it against your own experience.
Live it before believing it.
Keep what proves true.
Release what does not.
Then, one day, quietly pass your own experience forward.
Not as an authority.
As a witness.
Because wisdom was never meant to be possessed.
Only cultivated.
A Ripple to Consider
Borrow freely.
Respect deeply.
Think honestly.
Cultivate faithfully.
Kneel to no one except the truth you discover through an examined life.