The Enterprise of Love

 My friend Matt send me this post and I thought,Why not SHARE.

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“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.

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

I asked Happiness
tell me about You
and it was me

I asked You
tell me about God
and it was silence 

Give faith a fighting chance

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."

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."

Chris Tomlin ' I Will Rise'

Amazing Grace (My Chains are Gone) - Chris Tomlin (with lyrics)

Unfailing Love - Chris Tomlin

Reading the mind in the eyes

The eye position shifts or moves in correlation with the mind.It can move in the following positions:-

1. Up and to the right
2. Middle left
3. Middle right

Up and to the 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.

The store site

I forgot my speech

This was it. My speech night. I wore a dress mum organised for me and my favorite shoes,'pams',thats how I called them. We hopped in the car. It was boiling. I wound down my window. Our air-conditioner is broken and our car had been parked in the sun all day.

I hadn't had time to practice my speech and brought the paper it was written on. Whoosh! It flew out the window. This was a disaster. I didn't tell mum. She would be furious!

We arrived at the speech and drama place. I was nervous. I watched all the other speakers. They were great. I had a real competition.

"And that's why dogs chase their tails" said my best friend before a large applause. I knew I was right after her. I was petrified. I don't even know what my speech was.

I slowly walked up on stage. "I forgot my speech. It was a great speech." I said slowly, sadly. I saw that the audience were determined to listen to what I said next. Silence.

"It was about animals, drama, stories, just about everything. It had ten reasons why you should own a chicken. I can only remember one. They make you rich and make your lawn nice and pretty. Good compost. I had a drama thing on Shakespeare. I researched it and told every last word of it, but now I don't remember a thing. You see I can't remember things very clearly. I had info on heaps of birds, and charts, pictures. My speech would have gone for very long time. I had recounts on the story book Green Egg. I also had a movie recount on The movie Elf. They were great but I can't remember any of that. I'm sorry especially to my mother."

The crowd looked around at each other. Someone started clapping and then a couple more, then people were cheering their heads off. I walked off the stage.

"And the winner is..." Said the host "Khachendani Mwimbi!" That was me. I didn't even have a speech. I had it. They thought that was the speech. Anyway I think I did pretty well.

My mother was very pleased and so was I.

Crazy,yes,but not stupid

One truck driver was doing his usual delivery to MMH, the Mathari Mental Hospital.

He discovered a flat tire when he was about to go home. He jacked up the truck and took the flat tire down.

When he was about to fix the spare tire, he accidentally dropped all the bolts into the drain. As he can't fish the bolts out, he started to panic.

One patient happened to walk past and asked the driver what happened. The driver thought to himself, since there's nothing much he can do; he told the patient the whole incident.

The patient laughed at him and said "can't even fix such a simple problem.... no wonder you are destined to be a truck driver..."

Here's what you can do, take one bolt each from the other 3 tires and fix it onto this tire. Then drive to the nearest workshop and replace the missing ones, easy as that" The driver was very impressed and asked "You're so smart but why are you here at the MMH?"

Patient replied: "Hello, I stay here because I'm crazy. not stupid!"

Really!I thought .....

They were running late on this particular morning. They followed the same routine every morning, the mother went off to catch the bus to work and the daughter caught the bus to school. Frequently, the mother would sometimes leave the house an hour before her daughter, but on this specific morning, they made the journey to the bus stop together. The mother would later share with a close friend that she was relieved they were late that morning and also relieved they had been together to share what they were about to encounter.

They strolled, side by side down the alley towards the road, chatting about the day ahead. The familiar conversation flowed about what to have for dinner and their plans to do things over the coming weekend. It was a Thursday and they had previously arranged to meet up later and go shopping together. For a while now, it had been just the two them, mother and daughter, alone, but together. They shared an intimate relationship and more importantly that special kind of friendship that some mothers and daughters are lucky enough to achieve, but today, something would come to pass that was to devastate them, but empower their exceptional bond even more.

When they reached the street where they regularly waited for the bus, the mother turned to her daughter and kissed her cheek, ruffling her well plaited braids.

“Have a good day." she said, and turned to cross the road.

“Bye Mum." she replied and began to walk up the street, towards her bus stop. Suddenly the young girl yelled out quite innocently.

“Mum look, Sophie’s here!" Her mum whirled around and to her absolute horror and sadness was forced to take in the sight of what was laying on the ground near the road.

“Oh My God!" She said, checking for traffic and running back across the road. She prayed silently to herself, that it wasn’t their dear friend laying near the road. She looked at her daughter, and then back at the roadside. It was definitely her there was no doubt in her mind. She studied the her daughter’s face attempting to read her thoughts. The girl bent down and stretched out her hand as if she were going to touch the body laying on the roadside.

“No sweetie!" her mother cautioned gently. “Don’t touch her."

She gaped at her mother, obviously shocked and confused.

“Why?" she asked, innocently, totally unaware of what had occurred.

“Because she’s dead sweetheart" came her mother’s sad reply, she took a deep breath, trying desperately to control the tears that had started to flow. The young girl broke down and began to cry uncontrollably, sobbing incoherently.

“She can’t be dead," She cried out, shuddering violently, “Mum, Sophie can’t die."

She stood there shaking her head, her eyes full of tears, saying over and over again,

“No, no, no!" She looked up into her mother’s eyes hopefully but the serious expression on her mother’s face told a different story.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, but she’s gone." The mother replied with a tone of finality in her voice.

“No mum, she’s just asleep," argued the child, “she’s asleep, that’s all."

“I know it looks that way, but she isn’t." said her mother, taking her daughter’s hand and squeezing it gently.

“You’re wrong mum," said the girl, pulling her hand away, “Sophie’s just asleep."

“I really wish that was the case." said her mother calmly as she turned to look down at the roadside.

“What happened mum, why is she here, so close to the road?" she asked.

“It looks like a car hit her sweetie." answered her mother.

“No Mum." said the child, shaking her head unbelieveably, “Sophie would never walk in front of a car."

“Maybe she didn’t see the car, maybe it was dark." replied her mother.

“So did it happen last night?" asked the daughter.

“Probably." She acknowledged sadly, she had already noticed how wet the body was, like she had been laying out in the rain for hours.

“I want to go home mum," said the daughter, starting to shake, “I can’t go to school today, I just can’t Mum, I want to go home."

“I know." said the mother, suddenly aware that they should go home and make some unpleasant, but necessary phone calls. She stood there frozen to the spot, unable to move, trying to get a hold on her emotions.

“So what are we doing Mum?" asked the daughter, rubbing her hands together impatiently, still in a state of total disbelief.

“Going home sweetie," she said, “I’m just thinking, that’s all."

“We can’t leave her here mum." she protested, suddenly.

“Well of course we won’t , we’ll go home and ring some people first okay, don’t worry I will take care everything." said her mother reassuringly.

“O.K." said the daughter, with a confused expression etched on her young face.

“Let’s go, Mum." She walked off up the path ahead of her mother, her mother following behind her trying to piece together what had taken place. She could see from her daughter’s frame of mind that she would not be going to school today, which meant she would have call her employers and make her excuses.

They walked together up the narrow laneway, towards their street and turned into the driveway of their house. It was a beautiful, sunny, February day and the sky was a clear, perfect blue. A typical african  morning, which seemed to forecast a beautiful day ahead.

“I can’t believe it mum." said the daughter

“Neither can I." She replied. She took out the keys and unlocked the back door. They went into the house and sat down in the lounge room, both trying to collect their thoughts and take in what they had just discovered. They sat there for several minutes, the mother was trying to ascertain the best way to handle this predicament.

“We can’t leave her there mum!" said the child again, obviously fretting about this.

“I promise you we will take care of it, its O.K." she reassured her again, picking up the telephone, she began to dial.

“Who are you calling?" her daughter asked.

“Just some people that I need to speak to." she replied, continuing to dial the telephone, she went into the other room to have her conversation, in order to have some privacy and not alarm her daughter any further. She remained seated on the lounge chair, waiting for her mother to finish. She began to cry again, wishing out loud that she had never made the discovery on the ground beside the road.

“Why did I have to find her Mum?" she yelled out. “It’s not fair." Her mother did not answer, she was obviously still on the telephone. The daughter continued to mumble forlornly to herself about how unfair it all was.

“When I find out who did this, they will be sorry," said the daughter, still sobbing. “How could someone just run her over and leave her there like that?"

When the mother was done with the telephone, she returned to the lounge room and began to caress her child’s soft hair.

“Come on, we have things to do." she said, taking her hand. “Let’s get moving."

Her daughter didn’t reply straight away, she remained silent as if still attempting to accept all that had occurred. She sighed loundly and stood up.

“Mum, are you sure she’s really dead, she could be asleep?" she looked at her mother hopefully, praying that her mother would confirm her fantasy, but it was not to be. The mother shook her head sadly and picked up her keys from the coffee table.

“Are you sure it’s really Sophie?" she asked with the same hope shining in her innocent eyes.

“Yes sweetie it’s her." Answered her mother soothingly and calmly, not as calm as she felt. She wanted to scream and then dissolve into tears, but knew full well how unappropriate that would be.

“Come on, time to go." said her mother, heading for the door and standing at the stairs waiting. The girl relunctantly followed her outside and they stood together in the backyard.

“Would you like to pick some flowers for her?" Asked her mother, looking around the backyard, trying to decide which flowers to pick.

“Yes," she answered immediately, heading towards the front garden where her mother’s favourite roses were. “That would be really nice Mum."

Her mother went back into the house to get the garden shears, they walked around the front and cut some beautiful, bright pink roses that had just come into bloom a few day before. They very carefully clipped off the thorns and bundled the flowers together. The mother laid the shears down on the back stairs, making a metal note to put them back in the house when they returned home. They gathered some things together and set off up the driveway, heading for the laneway the led to the roadside.

When they reached the spot where she lay, they both stood there, transfixed for a moment, wondering how it could’ve happened. How could she get run over by a car? She was in a slightly, curled up position on her side as if she were fast asleep. The daughter bent down and reached out a gloved hand to touch her skin, she was wet and freezing cold. She snatched back her hand in horror.

“She really is dead, Mum." she acknowledged, her heart sinking with despair.

“Yes she is." Her mother confirmed, remembering the severe thunderstorms the previous night.

‘She has no doubt been here all night.’ she thought to herself silently. They knelt down on the ground and both began to stroke her hair, the daughter placed the flowers on the grass, next to where she lay.

“My sweetie,Sophie, I love you." sobbed the daughter.

“Oh Sophie," her mother broke in, swallowing hard, her heart in her mouth. “You silly, silly girl, why did you have to take on a car?"

They both reached out and stroked her once more and then very gently, they picked her up and placed her in the bag that they had brought with them and moved the flowers to the spot where she had lain. The daughter picked up the bag.

“I’ll carry her Mum," she announced and then softly spoke to what was inside the bag “we’re taking you home," her mother nodded silently and picked up Sophie’s cat collar, which they had removed earlier. They stood for a few moments and stared at the area near the roadside where they had discovered her. Still not accepting what had taken place, they reluctantly and remosefully trudged homewards to bury their beloved pet.