The monk who sold his Ferrari -Robin S Sharma

Spotting the pot of tea I had left on the table next to him, he
started to pour into my waiting cup.

He poured until the cup was full—but then he kept on pouring! Tea started to trickle down the sides of the cup and into the saucer, then onto my wife’s prized
Persian rug.

At first I watched silently. Then I couldn’t take it any more.

“Julian, what are you doing? My cup is overflowing. No matter
how hard you try, no more will go in!” I yelled impatiently.

He looked at me for a long moment. “Please don’t take this the
wrong way. I really respect you, John. I always have.

However, just like this cup, you seem to be full of your own ideas. And how
can any more go in. . . until you first empty your cup?”

I was struck by the truth of his words. He was right. My many
years in the conservative legal world, doing the same things every
day with the same people who thought the same thoughts every
day had filled my cup to the brim.