When I make jam I generally put off writing the labels for days. The jars hang around in the kitchen then finally I write those labels, hurriedly. I’d not thought why, until today.

This evening I staggered to my room dead tired after picking fruit most of the afternoon and then making a batch of jam into the evening. First Gooseberries growing in the hedge close to the monastery then, once again, over the hill to my favourite place of the moment. To pick Raspberries in a wildlife-cum-forest garden – with fruit bushes and trees too. Love the place, love the people.

Writing my labels just now I remembered the shadow of early punishments at school! ‘Write a hundred lines’ the teacher would say, write ‘I must try harder’ she instructed. Write, ‘Raspberry Jam. 16th August ’21’, nine times.

Interesting how such early experiences leave a lasting impression, influencing one’s behaviour (not to mention a life) for numberless decades.

So many impressions on the young sensitive mind. Some subtle, some less so. My youthful misdemeanors were minor ones. Scares, minor ones.

This post is for those young minds (and bodies) scared unbearably, astonishingly, in such a way – totally off the scale. Repeatedly.

Here a charming and timely true story, come parable, for our time. Do take to our vulnerable hearts and minds, for uplift. Thank you Kafka and all those who can and do tune into child needs. We all have that small sad ‘child’, emotional one, within us. Needs must for tender love, care and above all recognition. Next comes acceptance. Then Compassion.

At the age of 40, Franz Kafka (1883-1924), who had never married and had no children, was walking through the park in Berlin, when he met a little girl who was crying because she had lost her favorite doll.
She and Kafka searched for the doll without success. Kafka told her to meet the next day to look for the doll together.
The next day, when the doll had not yet been found, Kafka gave the girl a “written” doll letter that said “please don’t cry. I went on a journey to see the world. I will write to you about my adventures “.
Thus began a story that continued until the end of Kafka’s life. During their meetings, Kafka read the doll’s carefully written letters with adventures and conversations that the girl found adorable.
Finally, Kafka brought the doll (bought one) that had returned to Berlin.
“It doesn’t look like my doll at all,” the girl said. Kafka handed him another letter in which the doll wrote, “My travels have changed me.” The girl hugged the new doll and happily took her home.
A year later, Kafka died. Many years later, the girl, now an adult, found a letter inside the doll. In the tiny letter signed by Kafka it was written:
“Everything you love will probably be lost, but, in the end, love will return in a different way.”

Once again I am struggling to login to Jade, so once again this is a post sent to the site via email. With a raw looking url (Web address).

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/series/b084j8yq

I actually found this set of short, 14 min, programs rather good. Buddhism is mentioned and there is basic teaching, approached from an interesting angle. This is for those who can access BBC Sounds. Sorry to those readers who can’t.