His whisper , “This is strange.”, is so ardent that I believe him, and her whisper,
“Yes.”
is the same.
“We just grew apart.” — Cliché, but the only explanation available to him.
She nods.
Neither, though, realizes their error. Their exchange proves otherwise. But for their intimacy, they could never let each other go as if nothing
“It’s the only way I can…”
— and yet everything —
“…be happy?”
— depended upon it. Their last sentence falls like a butterfly fading on wind, fluttering once more before it falls and fractures, its pieces tumbling across the earth, finding their own ends.
Amidst what would otherwise be tragedy, the couple exudes the ess, the artist’s curved line and point where motion changes direction, redefines itself, traps the eye. It is in the way they step about one another and choose their words, always mindful.
The judge calls them forward , “Do you swear to tell the truth…” ,with me, and I express their wishes. The judge asks questions he’s asked of so many before, but he pauses, looks over his glasses as if I could’ve saved them, spared him. He signs the documents, declares them divorced.
The next pair is called.
We exit.
Before the doors behind me have even closed they’ve each shaken my hand and walked away.
She drinks her canned water held in her hand.
He’s out the revolving door.
Air wafts up from behind me, moves around and past, and the new silence tells me the door is now closed. Tomorrow I think I’ll be able to save the rest.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
The guest pastor
After a few of the usual Sunday evening Hymns, the church's Pastor stood up, walked over to the pulpit and before he gave his sermon for the evening, briefly introduced a guest minister who was in the service that evening.
In the introduction, the pastor told the congregation that the guest minister was on of his dearest childhood friends and the he wanted him to have a few moments to greet the church and share whatever he felt would be appropriate for the service. With that an elderly man stepped up to the pulpit and began to speak.
"A father, his son and a friend of his son were sailing off the pacific coast." he began. "When a fast approaching storm blocked any attempt to get back to the shore. The waves were so high, that even though the father was an experienced sailor, he could not keep the boat upright and the three were swept into the ocean as the boat capsized."
In the introduction, the pastor told the congregation that the guest minister was on of his dearest childhood friends and the he wanted him to have a few moments to greet the church and share whatever he felt would be appropriate for the service. With that an elderly man stepped up to the pulpit and began to speak.
"A father, his son and a friend of his son were sailing off the pacific coast." he began. "When a fast approaching storm blocked any attempt to get back to the shore. The waves were so high, that even though the father was an experienced sailor, he could not keep the boat upright and the three were swept into the ocean as the boat capsized."
The old man hesitated for a moment. Making eye contact with two teenagers who were, looking somewhat interested in his story. The aged minister continued with his story.
"Grabbing a rescue line, the father had to make the most excruciating decision of his life: to which boy would he throw the other end of the life line. He only had seconds to make the decision. The father knew that his son was a Christian and he also knew that his son's friend was not. The agony of his decision could not be matched by the torrent of waves. As the father yelled out. "I Love You, Son!" He threw out the life line to his son's friend. By the time the father had pulled the friend back to the capsized boat, his son had disappeared beneath the raging swells into the black of night. His body was never recovered!
By this time, the two teenagers were sitting up straight in the pew, anxiously waiting for the next words to come out of the old minister's mouth.
"The father," he continued, "knew his son would step into eternity with Jesus and he could not bear the thought of his son's friend stepping into an eternity without Jesus..
Therefore, he sacrificed his son to save the son's friend.
How great our heavenly father sacrificed his only begotten son that we could be saved. I urge you to accept His offer to rescue you and take a hold of the lifeline he is throwing out to you in this service. With that, the old man turned and sat back down in his chair as silence filled the room.
The pastor again walked slowly to the pulpit and delivered a brief sermon with an invitation at the end. However, no one responded to the appeal. Within minutes after the service ended, the two teenagers were at the old man's side. "That was a nice story." Politely stated one of them, "but I don't think it was very realistic for a father to give up his only son's life in hopes that the other boy would become a Christian." "Well you have a point there," the old man replied lancing down at his worn bible.
A big smile broadened his narrow face. He once again looked up at the boys and said, "It sure isn't very realistic, is it? But I'm standing here today to tell you that story gives me a glimpse of what it must have been like for God to give up his son for me.
You see.... I was that father and your pastor is my son's friend."
You see.... I was that father and your pastor is my son's friend."
Did he actually make it?
Satan called a worldwide convention. In his opening address to his Evil angels, he said,
"We can't keep the Christians from going to church. We can't keep them from reading their Bibles and knowing the truth. We can't even keep them from conservative values. But we can do something else. We can keep them from forming an intimate, abiding relationship with Christ. If they gain that connection with Jesus, our power over them is broken. So let them go to church, let them have their conservative lifestyles, but steal their time so they can't gain that relationship with Jesus Christ. This is what I want you to do: distract them from gaining hold of their Savior and maintaining that vital connection throughout their day."
"How shall we do this?" shouted the angels.
"Keep them busy in the non-essentials of life and invent unnumbered schemes to occupy their minds," he answered. "Tempt them to spend, spend, spend, then borrow, borrow, borrow. Convince the wives to go to work for long hours and the husbands to work six or seven days a week, 10-12 hours a day so they can afford their lifestyles. Keep them from spending time with their children. As their family fragments, soon their homes will offer no escape from the pressures of work. Over-stimulate their minds so that they cannot hear that still, small voice of God. Entice them to play the radio or cassette player whenever they drive, to keep the TV, VCR, CDs and their PCs going constantly in their homes. Fill their coffee tables with magazines and newspapers. Pound their minds with the news 24 hours a day. Invade their driving moments with billboards. Flood their mailboxes with junk mail, sweepstakes, mail order catalogs, and every kind of newsletter and promotional offering free products, services, and false hopes. Even intheir recreation, let them be excessive. Have them return from their recreation exhausted, disquieted and unprepared for the coming week. Don't let them go out in nature to reflect on the beauty of God's creation. Send them to amusement parks, sporting events, concerts and movies instead."
"And when they meet for spiritual fellowship, involve them in gossip and small talk so that they leave with troubled consciences and unsettled emotions. Let them be involved in soul-winning, but crowd their love with so many good causes they have no time to seek power from Christ. Soon, they will be working on their own strength, sacrificing their health and family unity for the good of the cause."
It was quite a convention in the end. The evil angels went eagerly to their assignments, causing Christians everywhere to get busy, busy, busy, and rush here and there. Has the devil been successful at his scheme?
You be the judge.
B eing
U nder
S atan's
Y oke
The dictionary defines busy as: "Crowded with activity, cluttered with minute detail to the point of distracting attention from the focal point."
If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely 100 people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look something like the following:
There would be:
57 Asians
21 Europeans
14 from the Western Hemisphere, both north and south
8 Africans
52 would be female
48 would be male
70 would be non-white
30 would be white
70 would be non-Christian
30 would be Christian
89 would be heterosexual
11 would be homosexual
6 people would possess 59% of the entire world's wealth and all 6 would be from the United States.
80 would live in substandard housing
70 would be unable to read
50 would suffer from malnutrition
1 would be near death;
1 would be near birth
1 (yes, only 1) would have a college education
1 would own a computer
When one considers our world from such a compressed perspective, the need for acceptance, understanding and education becomes glaringly apparent.
"We can't keep the Christians from going to church. We can't keep them from reading their Bibles and knowing the truth. We can't even keep them from conservative values. But we can do something else. We can keep them from forming an intimate, abiding relationship with Christ. If they gain that connection with Jesus, our power over them is broken. So let them go to church, let them have their conservative lifestyles, but steal their time so they can't gain that relationship with Jesus Christ. This is what I want you to do: distract them from gaining hold of their Savior and maintaining that vital connection throughout their day."
"How shall we do this?" shouted the angels.
"Keep them busy in the non-essentials of life and invent unnumbered schemes to occupy their minds," he answered. "Tempt them to spend, spend, spend, then borrow, borrow, borrow. Convince the wives to go to work for long hours and the husbands to work six or seven days a week, 10-12 hours a day so they can afford their lifestyles. Keep them from spending time with their children. As their family fragments, soon their homes will offer no escape from the pressures of work. Over-stimulate their minds so that they cannot hear that still, small voice of God. Entice them to play the radio or cassette player whenever they drive, to keep the TV, VCR, CDs and their PCs going constantly in their homes. Fill their coffee tables with magazines and newspapers. Pound their minds with the news 24 hours a day. Invade their driving moments with billboards. Flood their mailboxes with junk mail, sweepstakes, mail order catalogs, and every kind of newsletter and promotional offering free products, services, and false hopes. Even intheir recreation, let them be excessive. Have them return from their recreation exhausted, disquieted and unprepared for the coming week. Don't let them go out in nature to reflect on the beauty of God's creation. Send them to amusement parks, sporting events, concerts and movies instead."
"And when they meet for spiritual fellowship, involve them in gossip and small talk so that they leave with troubled consciences and unsettled emotions. Let them be involved in soul-winning, but crowd their love with so many good causes they have no time to seek power from Christ. Soon, they will be working on their own strength, sacrificing their health and family unity for the good of the cause."
It was quite a convention in the end. The evil angels went eagerly to their assignments, causing Christians everywhere to get busy, busy, busy, and rush here and there. Has the devil been successful at his scheme?
You be the judge.
B eing
U nder
S atan's
Y oke
The dictionary defines busy as: "Crowded with activity, cluttered with minute detail to the point of distracting attention from the focal point."
If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely 100 people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look something like the following:
There would be:
57 Asians
21 Europeans
14 from the Western Hemisphere, both north and south
8 Africans
52 would be female
48 would be male
70 would be non-white
30 would be white
70 would be non-Christian
30 would be Christian
89 would be heterosexual
11 would be homosexual
6 people would possess 59% of the entire world's wealth and all 6 would be from the United States.
80 would live in substandard housing
70 would be unable to read
50 would suffer from malnutrition
1 would be near death;
1 would be near birth
1 (yes, only 1) would have a college education
1 would own a computer
When one considers our world from such a compressed perspective, the need for acceptance, understanding and education becomes glaringly apparent.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Don't Lie.
Scott looked at the face of a girl whom he had been with for a long time. She was his childhood friend. She was lying on the hospital bed, unconcious. As Scott looked at her, love and sadness can be seen in his eyes. Worried that something bad might happen to her. "tina, please wake up." the words that he kept repeating in his mind, over and over again.
"Hey cheer up now. What's the matter?" A young boy wearing a blue baseball cap told his friend, looking at her, who was crying. "I'm fine." A little girl gave the same boy a fake smile. "Ahh, something's wrong, I knew it. Tina tell me." He insisted. But the little girl just gave him a smile, "nothing."
A girl waited under a waiting shed, it was raining too hard. Everything was dark. "Tina!" The girl heard her name. Left, right, it was her friend, Scott. The boy hurried to see her, he ran to the waiting shed quickly, with his uniform, dripping wet. But as soon as he got there, acted as if she didn't even hear his voice, nor knew him for who he was. "We need to talk..." He said trying to catch some air. "I thought I told you to leave me alone!" The girl shouted as she turned her back at him. "Tina, I can't do that!" Scott answered. Tina started walking away, she had her clothes wet by the time she set her feet out of the waiting shed.
"Hey, listen ok. Look I know that I made the wrong choice about telling you that I...like you....but...please, cant we just...have what we had before? FRIENDSHIP!?" Scott continued. Yuki stopped walking, "Look!" she turned around and faced him, "All I ask is for you to leave me alone! I'm sick and tired of this game. It can't be. You can't like a girl like me." She yelled, tears came falling from her eyes. Scott made his way to his friend and threw his arms around her, "I like you!...Why can't we be together?" He was crying.
"LET GO!" Tina pushed him, and Scott felt pain on his right cheek, she slapped him. "Can't you understand me? I don't like the way you treat me anymore, I'm not special. You just can't love me as someone else? I hate you!" Her voice was beginning to break up, she was crying real hard, but the rain could cover it. Tina turned her back at Scott and ran away.
Scott wanted to go after her but all he could do was watch her as she goes farther and farther. As Tina reached the sidewalk near her house, she felt pain on her left chest, her heart was aching. She couldn't breath. She placed her hand just at the place of her heart and tried to massage her chest, "It's ok. You can do it...just a few steps and...Ughr" She took a deep breath and started walking again, slowly, but her knees felt weak, she can't move anymore and that caused her to fall on the ground. Her sister got out the house eventually and helped her to stand up.
Scott took a deep breath and made his way to the wash room to wash the vase. There was silence. Even his loud breathing could be heard...As Scott went out the room, he went to the table near Tina's bed and took the boquet of roses.
"Scott," He heard a soft voice calling him. He turned to his right and found Tina, awake. "Scott, What are u doin here?." she said. Her voice was softer than before. Her friend smiled, "I...came here to...see you.." He replied. "Scott...I..." She felt so much pain on her chest again.
"Hey cheer up now. What's the matter?" A young boy wearing a blue baseball cap told his friend, looking at her, who was crying. "I'm fine." A little girl gave the same boy a fake smile. "Ahh, something's wrong, I knew it. Tina tell me." He insisted. But the little girl just gave him a smile, "nothing."
A girl waited under a waiting shed, it was raining too hard. Everything was dark. "Tina!" The girl heard her name. Left, right, it was her friend, Scott. The boy hurried to see her, he ran to the waiting shed quickly, with his uniform, dripping wet. But as soon as he got there, acted as if she didn't even hear his voice, nor knew him for who he was. "We need to talk..." He said trying to catch some air. "I thought I told you to leave me alone!" The girl shouted as she turned her back at him. "Tina, I can't do that!" Scott answered. Tina started walking away, she had her clothes wet by the time she set her feet out of the waiting shed.
"Hey, listen ok. Look I know that I made the wrong choice about telling you that I...like you....but...please, cant we just...have what we had before? FRIENDSHIP!?" Scott continued. Yuki stopped walking, "Look!" she turned around and faced him, "All I ask is for you to leave me alone! I'm sick and tired of this game. It can't be. You can't like a girl like me." She yelled, tears came falling from her eyes. Scott made his way to his friend and threw his arms around her, "I like you!...Why can't we be together?" He was crying.
"LET GO!" Tina pushed him, and Scott felt pain on his right cheek, she slapped him. "Can't you understand me? I don't like the way you treat me anymore, I'm not special. You just can't love me as someone else? I hate you!" Her voice was beginning to break up, she was crying real hard, but the rain could cover it. Tina turned her back at Scott and ran away.
Scott wanted to go after her but all he could do was watch her as she goes farther and farther. As Tina reached the sidewalk near her house, she felt pain on her left chest, her heart was aching. She couldn't breath. She placed her hand just at the place of her heart and tried to massage her chest, "It's ok. You can do it...just a few steps and...Ughr" She took a deep breath and started walking again, slowly, but her knees felt weak, she can't move anymore and that caused her to fall on the ground. Her sister got out the house eventually and helped her to stand up.
Scott took a deep breath and made his way to the wash room to wash the vase. There was silence. Even his loud breathing could be heard...As Scott went out the room, he went to the table near Tina's bed and took the boquet of roses.
"Scott," He heard a soft voice calling him. He turned to his right and found Tina, awake. "Scott, What are u doin here?." she said. Her voice was softer than before. Her friend smiled, "I...came here to...see you.." He replied. "Scott...I..." She felt so much pain on her chest again.
An angel
There was this little girl sitting by herself in the park. Everyone passed by her and never stopped to see why she looked so sad. Dressed in a worn pink dress, barefoot and dirty, the girl just sat and watched the people go by. She never tried to speak. She never said a word. Many people passed by her, but no one would stop.
The next day I decided to go back to the park in curiosity to see if the little girl would still be there. Yes, she was there, right in the very spot where she was yesterday, and still with the same sad look in her eyes. Today I was to make my own move and walk over to the little girl. For as we all know, a park full of strange people is not a place for young children to play alone. As I got closer I could see the back of the little girl's dress. It was grotesquely shaped. I figured that was the reason people just passed by and made no effort to speak to her.
Deformities are a low blow to our society and, heaven forbid if you make a step toward assisting someone who is different. As I got closer, the little girl lowered her eyes slightly to avoid my intent stare. As I approached her, I could see the shape of her back more clearly.
She was grotesquely shaped in a humped over form. I smiled to let her know it was OK; I was there to help, to talk. I sat down beside her and opened with a simple, "Hello"; The little girl acted shocked, and stammered a "hi"; after a long stare into my eyes. I smiled and she shyly smiled back. We talked until darkness fell and the park was completely empty. I asked the girl why she was so sad. The little girl looked at me with a sad face said, "Because, I'm different"; I immediately said, "That you are!"; and smiled. The little girl acted even sadder and said, "I know." "Little girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel, sweet and innocent."
She looked at me and smiled, then slowly she got to her feet and said, "Really?" "Yes, you're like a little Guardian Angel sent to watch over all people walking by." She nodded her head yes, and smiled.
With that she opened the back of her pink dress and allowed her wings to spread, then she said "I am. I'm your Guardian Angel," with a twinkle in her eye. I was speechless -- sure I was seeing things."
She said, "For once you thought of someone other than yourself. My job here is done;" I got to my feet and said, "Wait, why did no one stop to help an angel?"
She looked at me, smiled, and said, "You are the only one that could see me," and then she was gone.
And with that, my life was changed dramatically.
The next day I decided to go back to the park in curiosity to see if the little girl would still be there. Yes, she was there, right in the very spot where she was yesterday, and still with the same sad look in her eyes. Today I was to make my own move and walk over to the little girl. For as we all know, a park full of strange people is not a place for young children to play alone. As I got closer I could see the back of the little girl's dress. It was grotesquely shaped. I figured that was the reason people just passed by and made no effort to speak to her.
Deformities are a low blow to our society and, heaven forbid if you make a step toward assisting someone who is different. As I got closer, the little girl lowered her eyes slightly to avoid my intent stare. As I approached her, I could see the shape of her back more clearly.
She was grotesquely shaped in a humped over form. I smiled to let her know it was OK; I was there to help, to talk. I sat down beside her and opened with a simple, "Hello"; The little girl acted shocked, and stammered a "hi"; after a long stare into my eyes. I smiled and she shyly smiled back. We talked until darkness fell and the park was completely empty. I asked the girl why she was so sad. The little girl looked at me with a sad face said, "Because, I'm different"; I immediately said, "That you are!"; and smiled. The little girl acted even sadder and said, "I know." "Little girl," I said, "you remind me of an angel, sweet and innocent."
She looked at me and smiled, then slowly she got to her feet and said, "Really?" "Yes, you're like a little Guardian Angel sent to watch over all people walking by." She nodded her head yes, and smiled.
With that she opened the back of her pink dress and allowed her wings to spread, then she said "I am. I'm your Guardian Angel," with a twinkle in her eye. I was speechless -- sure I was seeing things."
She said, "For once you thought of someone other than yourself. My job here is done;" I got to my feet and said, "Wait, why did no one stop to help an angel?"
She looked at me, smiled, and said, "You are the only one that could see me," and then she was gone.
And with that, my life was changed dramatically.
The coffee
He met her on a party, she was so outstanding, many guys chasing after her,while he was so normal, nobody paid attention to him. At the end of the party, he invited her to have coffee with him, she was surprised, but due to politeness, she promised. They sat in a nice coffee shop, he was too nervous to say anything, she felt uncomfortable, she thought, please, let me back home. Suddenly he asked the waiter: would you please give me some salt? I'd like to put it in my coffee.
Everybody stared at him, so strange! His face turned red, but, still, he put the salt in his coffee and drank it. She asked him curiously: why you have this hobby? He replied: when I was a little boy, I was living near the sea, I like playing in the sea, I could felt the taste of the sea, salty and bite, just like the taste of the salty coffee. Now every time I have the salty coffee, I will think of my childhood, think of my hometown, I miss my hometown so much, I miss my parents who still living there. Saying that, tears filled his eyes. She was deeply touched. That's his true feeling, from the bottom of his heart.
"A man who can tell out his homesick, he must be a man loves home, cares about home, has responsibility of home," she thought. Then she also started to talk, talked about her faraway hometown, her childhood, her family. That was a really nice talk, also a beautiful beginning of their story. They continue to date. She found actually he was a man who meets all her demands: he was God fearing ,tolerant, kind hearted, warm, careful...he was such a good guy but she almost missed him! Thanks to his salty coffee!
Then the story was just like every beautiful love story: the princess married to the prince, then they were living the happy life...And, every time she made coffee for him, she put some salt in the coffee, as she knew that's the way he liked.
After 40 years, he passed away, left her a letter which said: "My dearest, please forgive me, forgive my whole life lie. This was the only lie I said to you, the salty coffee. Remember the first time we dated? I was so nervous at that time, actually I wanted some sugar, but I said salt. It's hard for me to change so I just go ahead. I never thought that could be the start of our communication! I tried to tell you the truth many times in my life, but I was too afraid to do that, as I have promised not to lie to you for anything..Now I'm dying, I am afraid of nothing so I tell you the truth: I don't like the salty coffee, what a strange bad taste..but I have the salty coffee for my whole life since I knew you, I never feel sorry for anything I do for you. Having you with me is my biggest happiness for my whole life.
If I can live for the second time, I still want to know you and have you as my whole life wife, even though I have to drink the salty coffee again."
Her tears made the letter totally wet. Someday, someone asked her: What's the taste of salty coffee?
It's sweet. She replied.
Everybody stared at him, so strange! His face turned red, but, still, he put the salt in his coffee and drank it. She asked him curiously: why you have this hobby? He replied: when I was a little boy, I was living near the sea, I like playing in the sea, I could felt the taste of the sea, salty and bite, just like the taste of the salty coffee. Now every time I have the salty coffee, I will think of my childhood, think of my hometown, I miss my hometown so much, I miss my parents who still living there. Saying that, tears filled his eyes. She was deeply touched. That's his true feeling, from the bottom of his heart.
"A man who can tell out his homesick, he must be a man loves home, cares about home, has responsibility of home," she thought. Then she also started to talk, talked about her faraway hometown, her childhood, her family. That was a really nice talk, also a beautiful beginning of their story. They continue to date. She found actually he was a man who meets all her demands: he was God fearing ,tolerant, kind hearted, warm, careful...he was such a good guy but she almost missed him! Thanks to his salty coffee!
Then the story was just like every beautiful love story: the princess married to the prince, then they were living the happy life...And, every time she made coffee for him, she put some salt in the coffee, as she knew that's the way he liked.
After 40 years, he passed away, left her a letter which said: "My dearest, please forgive me, forgive my whole life lie. This was the only lie I said to you, the salty coffee. Remember the first time we dated? I was so nervous at that time, actually I wanted some sugar, but I said salt. It's hard for me to change so I just go ahead. I never thought that could be the start of our communication! I tried to tell you the truth many times in my life, but I was too afraid to do that, as I have promised not to lie to you for anything..Now I'm dying, I am afraid of nothing so I tell you the truth: I don't like the salty coffee, what a strange bad taste..but I have the salty coffee for my whole life since I knew you, I never feel sorry for anything I do for you. Having you with me is my biggest happiness for my whole life.
If I can live for the second time, I still want to know you and have you as my whole life wife, even though I have to drink the salty coffee again."
Her tears made the letter totally wet. Someday, someone asked her: What's the taste of salty coffee?
It's sweet. She replied.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Father's Day Special
A Father's Hands
Her Dad, some ninety plus years now, sat feebly on the patio bench. He didn't move, just sat with his head down staring at his hands. She sat down beside him. He didn't acknowledge her presence and the longer He sat she wondered if he was okay.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb him but wanting to check on him at the same time, she asked him if he was okay. He raised his head and looked at her and smiled. Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking, he said in a clear strong voice. I didn't mean to disturb you, Dad, but you were just sitting there staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were alright.""Have you ever looked at your hands?" he asked. "I mean really looked at your hands?
She slowly opened her hands and stared down at them. She turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as she tried to figure out the point he was making. Dad smiled and related this story: "Stop and think for a moment about the hands I have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all his life to reach out and grab and embrace life."
"They braced and caught your fall when as a toddler you crashed upon the floor. They put food in your mouth and clothes on your back. As a child your mother taught you to fold them in prayer. They tied your shoes and pulled on your boots. They dried the tears of my children and caressed the love of my life. They wiped my tears when my son went off to war."
"They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold you as a newborn daughter. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that you were married and loved ,someone special."
"They wrote the letters home and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse. They have held children, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, washed and cleansed the rest of my body."They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else on me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer. These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life."
"But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when He leads me home. And with this hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ." ----After that day, she never looked at her hands the same again.
But she remembers God reached out and took her Dad's hands and led her home. When her hands are hurt of sore or when she stroke the face of her children and husband ,she thinks of Dad. She knows she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God
Thursday, June 9, 2011
A.L.I.CE AI Chatbot
A.L.I.C.E -Artificial Intelligence Chatbot
A.L.I.C.E or Artificial Linguistic Internet Computer Entity is an award-winning artificial intelligence (A.I.) natural language processing chatter bot. It is a bot program that engages in a conversation with a human being by applying some heuristical pattern matching rules to the human's input, and in its online form it also relies on a hidden third person.
A.L.I.C.E is also one of the strongest programs and 'most human' of AI chat robot or chatbot, and has won the Loebner Prize three times (in 2000, 2001 and 2004) in AI competition. However the program is unable to pass the Turing Test or Imitation Game.
Richard Wallace started the development of A.L.I.C.E in 1995. In 1998, it was rewritten in Java. The program uses an XML Schema called AIML (Artificial Intelligence Markup Language) for specifying the heuristic conversation rules, which was published in 2001, and led more developers to contribute to the project. Alicebot, which is an engine or software agent of A.L.I.C.E, utilizes AIML.
ELIZA
Artificial Intelligence Simulation
Artificial Intelligence Simulation
Eliza will be glad to be your virtual friend. Eliza can help you with almost everything. It poses the questions of life, the universe, and everything. Don't be afraid to ask for help!
Perhaps Eliza can help you too...
Perhaps Eliza can help you too...
Eliza, Artificial Intelligence Simulation
During the 1960s Joseph Weizenbaum created ELIZA. Eliza simulating a Rogerian therapist.
She passed a restricted Turing test for machine intelligence. Eliza was one of the first AI (Artificial Intelligence) programs and impressed many people who talked to her.
She passed a restricted Turing test for machine intelligence. Eliza was one of the first AI (Artificial Intelligence) programs and impressed many people who talked to her.
ELIZA created a storm of public interest in AI (Artificial Intelligence) as it helped thousands overcome their personal problems.
Artificial Intelligence is the intelligence of machines and the branch of computer science which aims to create it. It is a technology that enables machines to converse with humans in natural language.
Very soon, Artificial Intelligence (AI) will create a new form of life.
The simulation of ELIZA is a complete implementation of the program described by Weizenbaum.
 My name is ELIZA: Perhaps I can help you...? |
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Time is the currency of self-esteem
Real self-esteem consists of having accurate perceptions of your capabilities, your strengths and weaknesses. Living with values; accepting achievements and failures; and being able to keep the opinions of others in perspective are all components of this most intangible yet essential component of psychological well-being. And self-worth directs behavior like a compass.
Nurturing a healthy one is done like any other aspect of skill development. Time is the currency of self-esteem. Building authentic self-esteem in one takes a lot of it, and requires positive active teaching and coaching. Without question, each one of us will require different levels of guidance and ways of coaching.
The necessary approach is one where clear, kind limits are in concert with age-appropriate freedom; where your actions match your words; where hurts and struggles are validated and processed and put into perspective; where mistakes are made and you still feel accepted and loved anyway.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
The Enterprise of Love
My friend Matt send me this post and I thought,Why not SHARE.
.............................................“Life doesn’t give you the people you want; instead it gives you the ones you need: to teach you, to hurt you, to love you- to make you exactly the way you should be ”
When we find someone we feel we can connect to in some ways, we are filled with indefinable expectations regarding that person. These expectations remain deep inside our sub consciousness, despite our apparent denial.
No matter how much we argue with ourselves that we are just testing waters, see where this new link takes us, and that we are not expecting anything at this point of time; expectations do creep eventually during such exchanges.
The expectations that we involuntarily impose on another, due to our predetermined values. The expectation of what might follow, with a sense of eagerness, just the way we feel when we bring home a new book or watch a mystery film on the screen.
Secretly, we are also in a hurry to uncover the other person, like those times when one quickly reads the end of a book to know the conclusion. Perhaps there is no such harm when we do it with a book, but in the beginning of a relationship that is so detrimental. Unless we are one of those who read blurbs and the last chapter and tell the world that we have read the book;The truth remains that we can never be the real reader unless we read it page by page. Writing a review of a book without actually reading it is considered unethical. In the same way the book of love must be read slowly and reflectively to understand its various meaning between the lines, before we gear towards writing reviews.
Sadly, most of us are in a rush. Not knowing that interpersonal relationships vary in their degree of self-disclosure, feedback, power and respect. They vary in the extent to which people can change, question or challenge each other. Relationships also vary in the degree to which both intimacy and sharing occur. Implying the discovery or establishment of common ground overtime, is a premature belief. A lapse that often causes damage to the budding ties.
The most common thing that happens in relationships is projection. We like to begin with the idea/ thought that our lover shares many common traits with us. We go overboard in imagining ourselves as ‘true soul mates’ and that we were ‘made for each other’. This belief is so strong that we begin to project into them ideals that are more positive than negative. We have been nurturing the dreams of similarity so much that when certain characteristics of the partner begin to challenge us, friction starts to develop because of perceived differences. The other person appears not to support our values and that creates disappointments and sometimes we even feel cheated in the relationship.
We fail to realize that the partner was having these dissimilarities and similarities from the very beginning and in our infatuated state we were amplifying the similarities and their significance and overlooking the inevitable dissimilarities. When we pin someone down to a little idea, a small rule or a need, which we have, then we take away the real beauty of that person. The true beauty doesn’t arise from a rule or an idea; it arises when we just let the information stream in.
From infatuation to love, it is an toilsome journey. Most relationships never cross the first stage and leave us with resentments about our partners and sometimes we are bitter with ourselves too, as we feel that we have been gullible so far. Sometimes we even feel that we have been deliberately misled by our partner and begin to punish them with anger, distance and blame.
We forget that relationships are not analyzed like business plans in which you have to measure it, to manage it. In business plans it becomes imperative to define expectations in terms of targets, standards and competitive requirements. But it is not viable in relationships. Close relationships lose their essence when we try to define it too rationally.
Unlike business plans we don’t have contingency plans for a love relationship. If it fails, it fails absolutely, because the terms and conditions of relationships are not so well defined. It is amorphous in nature and thus remains unfathomable most of the times. The ambiguities in a slowly forming relationship are also relative to individual dynamics of the persons involved.
Most of this ambiguousness is understood with heart and not cold reasoning.The only assurance to save ourselves from such painful repetitions is the decision we make, to give each other chance, time, and benefit of doubts along with clear understandings of our own values and acceptance of the our partners values.
‘True love’ and ‘ideal relationships’ then become a reality and not unattainable dreams; as we often begin to feel after repetitive failures.
One greek philosopher said: “ Infatuation is an exaggeration of similarities, Resentment is an exaggeration of differences. Love is equally embracing the both.”
Courtesy of mein freund,Matt.
ein schone Schreibe.Danke schon.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Silence...
One novelist wrote about a blind man watching the snowfall and smiling to himself. This line stayed with me for a long, long time. How could a blind man watch the snow?
I pondered. I know that when the sight is taken away, the other senses become sharper. The blind man must have felt the cold air around him with the tiny snowflakes brushing his cheek; he must have caught a puffy, wet ball in his hand and had felt it melt in his palms. But did he hear the snow falling?
Somehow I believe that he actually listened to the snowfall, more than he felt it. He must have listened to the silence of the falling snow. He listened, because he was silent inside, in his own wonderful and special way.
Often silence makes people uncomfortable, accustomed as they are to the noise and commotion of the world, but silence is all about coming home to ourselves.
When we sit in silence we relax and slip into an exquisite nothingness. We look within and drop our opinionated mind and learn to feel everything around us more deeply.When the perturbing chatter of the mind stops and we let the quietness around submerge us, something sacred is born within.That is why one philosopher said that our greatest experiences are our quietest moments.
Needless to say, it is only in silence that we are capable of listening. Like that blind man watching the snowfall and smiling to himself, we learn to listen more when we are silent.Silence is the basic ingredient for entering into our intuitive mind and to resist the meaningless noises outside.
It is interesting to note how Silent and Listen have same letters but are arranged differently.We humans have a tendency to talk more and listen less; much of it is because we have forgotten the art of waiting and allowing ourselves to grow silent within.
Nature has no trouble in remembering this art. Nature thrives on silence. We never hear the footsteps of moon when it appears on the sky. We don’t hear a loud bang when the sun comes out and the stars burst open in the sky. Their arrival is always wrapped in a glorious silence. Look how the tree knows it! It remains bare, beautiful and still; waiting for the new leaves, knowing that the old has gone and the new will soon be coming. The tree waits in silence.Just like tree, when we are silent and waiting, something beautiful inside us keeps on growing and it is this stillness and silence that gives birth to creativity.
Often it happens that when we wait in silence, life rushes back to fill those crevices in our souls. There are times when silence becomes the most potent way of communication and is more effective than words. We all have at least one memory when we have faced that eloquent silence of our elders such as parents or teachers when we have felt a cold fear at the bristling silence of their fury. When their silence had scared us more than angry words. When just one quiet look had had us behaving better than a harsh scolding.
In a business world the salesmen are taught the art of persuasive silence. After he has urged the potential client to buy some product and the customer is contemplating quietly over what the salesman has described, the well trained salesman remains absolutely silent during this important time. Often he gains his sale by using this important tool.Undeniably, silence needs a special kind of power and authority of mind and saying it with silence needs a certain ‘command of language’. To say nothing is often more difficult than expressing the anger, love and betrayal with words.
However, being silent with a natural and calm stillness within is like a spiritual reflex. Analyze it too much or think too much about it and it degenerates itself into something superficial and edgy. If we become self-conscious about silence then we begin to work against it. We rush to fill it with inane talks and nervous gestures, and the silence loses its value.
But we can certainly develop this powerful way of communicating by practicing a calm mind. By realizing that between stimulus and response, there is a space and in that space is our power to choose our response because in our response lies our growth and our freedom. That “space” is silence.
Each time when I feel that I just cannot take another step forward in life, I seek refuge in silence. And sure enough I get recharged with fresh dose of faith, hope and confidence.
Me,myself
I asked my heart
tell me about God
and it was silence
I asked God
tell me about Love
and it was spring
I asked Love
tell me about Compassion
and it was life
I asked Compassion
tell me about Happiness
and it was dance
tell me about God
and it was silence
I asked God
tell me about Love
and it was spring
I asked Love
tell me about Compassion
and it was life
I asked Compassion
tell me about Happiness
and it was dance
I asked Happiness
tell me about You
and it was me
I asked You
tell me about God
and it was silence
Friday, March 18, 2011
Whispers to an empty wind
Her cell phone bleated an old tune for a TV show that let her know the person on the other end was her older brother. When they were little, he used to watch that show religiously and in all the years from then to now, it reminded her ever of him. The song started over once more by the time she picked it up, pressed the button, and put the receiver to her ear.
"Hello?" she said, immediately.
"Hey siz," her brother replied, warmly, "How are things?"
"Things are good," she began as she stood up and pulled her knit sweater sleeve up over her elbow with her free hand. "It's been quiet, generally. Tim's been gone for work a lot and the kids have been in school for a couple of months now, so it's mainly just been me and dad."
"Dad isn't making a lot of noise?" he chuckled.
"No..." She got up from her chair and made her way to the front door.
"How's he doing?"
"He's doing good. He has good days and not so good days, but more good days than bad lately, so that's been helpful."
"How's he doing with medication? Is it the same stuff he's on?"
"Yeah, they upped the dosage but it's the same stuff."
"And it's slowing down?"
"I think so, maybe. You can never really tell with Diabetes. That's what they keep telling me anyway. It's all so frustrating one way or the other."
"How do you mean?"
"It's like he's there, but he's not. His attitude, his personality are there sometimes, but it's almost like his eyes are hollow and he just doesn't understand where or who he is." She finished her sentence and turned the knob on the door so she could take the walk out into the windy chilly twilight.
"I feel like a jackass hearing that."
"Hello?" she said, immediately.
"Hey siz," her brother replied, warmly, "How are things?"
"Things are good," she began as she stood up and pulled her knit sweater sleeve up over her elbow with her free hand. "It's been quiet, generally. Tim's been gone for work a lot and the kids have been in school for a couple of months now, so it's mainly just been me and dad."
"Dad isn't making a lot of noise?" he chuckled.
"No..." She got up from her chair and made her way to the front door.
"How's he doing?"
"He's doing good. He has good days and not so good days, but more good days than bad lately, so that's been helpful."
"How's he doing with medication? Is it the same stuff he's on?"
"Yeah, they upped the dosage but it's the same stuff."
"And it's slowing down?"
"I think so, maybe. You can never really tell with Diabetes. That's what they keep telling me anyway. It's all so frustrating one way or the other."
"How do you mean?"
"It's like he's there, but he's not. His attitude, his personality are there sometimes, but it's almost like his eyes are hollow and he just doesn't understand where or who he is." She finished her sentence and turned the knob on the door so she could take the walk out into the windy chilly twilight.
"I feel like a jackass hearing that."
Before he could explain, she asked him, "Why?"
"I feel like I should be the one taking care of him."
"You didn't saddle me with him or anything. I wanted to take him."
"I know, but... I just feel like I should be there."
"I won't argue that you can always be here more, but you're seven-hundred miles away. I understand why you're not here more."
"If he needs me--if you need me--I'll be there in a heart beat."
"I know."
There was a pause as neither brother nor sister knew what to say.
She shuffled her feet through a thicket of dry leaves beneath her tree on the sidewalk in front of her house.
"So what does he do with his time?"
"Oh, this and that. He used to do a lot of crossword puzzles, but those got too difficult for him, so he does word searches a lot now. He watches a lot of movies."
"He always did that, though."
"Yeah. But the hardest part of it is putting on one of his favorite series and having him ask me if he's ever seen it before. I put on, what was that series...? the one with Undertaker..."
"Wrestling."
"Yeah. He's watched it for the first time about twenty times this month."
"Oh."
"And he always wants to watch Undertaker, but every time I put in a Wrestling series, he doesn't recognize Undertaker--"
"--really?"
"Yeah. And then, he gets mad at me that I didn't put in Wrestling. It's exasperating sometimes."
"I can imagine."
"And he just can't do jigsaw puzzles. I tried to help him with them, but I would just end up getting too frustrated, it's not his fault, so then I feel guilty and Tim has to put up with me crying myself to sleep."
"How's Tim dealing with all of this?"
"It's been getting easier on him. He and dad never got along and it's always been a source of tension for him to have him in the house all the time, and he's sort of... coming to terms with the idea that this isn't really Dad anymore. I think it's easier for him to deal with it for the same reason it's harder for me."
"It's hard to realize that it's not him so much anymore. It's what's left of what he used to be and it kills me that it's fallen solely on you to make him comfortable."
She paced back and forth through the leaves, "Do you know who Dr. Susunya is?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Dad keeps asking about him."
"That was the family doctor for years. He delivered the both of us. I think he retired just after you were born. I remember seeing him a few times as a kid."
"Why was he asking about him, do you think?"
"I think maybe it's just a matter of comfort. It's no secret that you older you get the more comfortable you like to be and Dr. Susunya was his doctor for thirty years before he retired."
"I guess that makes sense."
"Hm. I never really thought about it like that before. You spend thirty years getting completely comfortable with your doctor and he retires right when you'd want to be able to rely on him the most. When you're set in your ways, you need to find a new doctor ."
"It's frightening when you put it like that."
"Maybe it is."
"Well, I should get back in there. His series ending soon."
"All right. You take care, siz."
"You too."
"Let me know if you need anything."
"I will."
"Bye-bye."
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Reading the mind in the eyes
The eye position shifts or moves in correlation with the mind.It can move in the following positions:-
- Up and to the right
- Middle left
- Middle right
This eye position, like the up and to the left, is also connected with the visual memory and it indicates that a person is remembering visual images.
Ask someone “what color shirt did you wear two days ago?” and this would be the direction their eyes would move. In their minds, they are visually remembering the color.
The up eye position, whether it is left or right, indicates a visual mindset. Left is for constructing images and right is for remembering images.
Middle left
The middle position is connected with the auditory mental processes. When in auditory mental process, a person thinks by hearing sounds. He or she often describes things in terms of sound, saying such things as “Do you hear what I mean?” or “The way it sounds to me is…”
The middle left position indicates that a person is in auditory construction mode.
Ask someone “create the sound of an exploding bomb in your mind” and you’ll notice that this would be the direction their eyes move. They are mentally creating the sound image of an exploding bomb.
Middle right
This is another position connected with the auditory mental process, but unlike the left position this is for auditory memory.When someone is in this mental process, they remember a sound they previously heard.
As an example, ask someone “Remember what the national anthem sounds like”. You will notice that their eyes would move to the right as they try to remember the song.