Saturday, September 24, 2011
fashion fabulous
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Just another broken heart....
It wasn't about love, not even some kind of connection.I guess I remember my counselor talking of ' being connected'. Okay, well there was connection. Just a little omnipotent feeling that I never felt before in my heart. It started out simple, he came to everyone and offered every single lady a flower, day by day. One day.. I received mine, I was literally bursting with happy twinkles.
I hid though, and simply shoved the flower in my pocket. I mumbled a thank you and asked quietly.. "Do you think you'll woe me with a flower, like every other girl?". He .. laughed.. so gently and gentleman-like. That got my heart. He took it at that moment. He said.. " No.. I believe every lady should feel loved and cared for, nothing more. A simple gift, much like my flowers.. can be a great thing for a broken heart."
I blinked. Dazed. And amazed. He was the answer to my prayers. I was sure. As time passed by, we became friends.. good friends. He was there whenever I needed him, I felt he could protect me from the hurt and pain. At times, I confided to some of my close friends .. and I did realize how quickly inquisitive he'd get. I never understood why. I mean, he looked like he had a stone for a heart.But all I knew is that he was in love with God;his ways and speech would definitely tell you that. I knew .. that he knew that I felt uncomfortable around him for it was obvious. Very obvious. Everyone noticed it. He never did anything about it.
Then one.. day, that very special day in October, he came to me.. and said "I've always admired your strong-willed character, I always did.. please.. push aside our differences and let us become friends. I never did like the words you spoke to the other people about me, I care about you and for the record am not arrogant ." I was shocked, bewildered.. and finally happy. He gave me a hug then burst out laughing.I thought.....weird!.I had never envisioned him to be the caring type That moment was tragically magic. I felt alive... I felt.. loved.
As days passed, we laughed, smiled and shared stories. Oh.. how sweet it was. It was something I wanted to hold onto. Something I didn't want to leave me. But eventually.. it descended to the darkness. I committed wrong things, things he did not like.. and when he scolded me for it.. I grew scared and nervous, and soon demanded that we should end this relationship.
He was baffled, and somewhat speechless. He left without another word. That night I thought.. what was I thinking? Why would I do that? As I thought over it, my eyes blurred, and I cried.. I cried with such violence I was afraid I'd wake the others. Finally.. I slept. In the morning I immediately went to him and asked for forgiveness. I was on my knees, believe it or not.. I was on my knees,-I thought that I was proud. He looked down at me with such coldness, it sent icy daggers through my chest. With no avail, he shook his head "No" and walked away. I was broken, frail and.. alone. I cried out into the sky and cried more, never ending tears.
As I went home, I crawled into bed and remained there... for longest of times. Crying, crying.. and shaking. I had looked up to him. He was my best friend.I had confided in him,I trusted him. I thought over our times and only cried more. My depression was poison. Its been about three years and a half, and here I am. My heart aches still, but as I look past my time with him.. as I smile and look down at the flower he first gave.. I know.. that there's hope. Now that the flower is down a river, finding its path.. alone.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Your tomorrow
We seem to look for better times,
forget the ones we’ve got.
We think of things we can get,
the ones we have matter not.
We hope for dreams we soon shall find,
forget the ones we own.
We think of how much we may grow,
forget how much we’ve grown.
We think of where we can later go.
don’t take in where we are.
We dream of where or success will be
but seem not to go far.
If we look forward to tomorrow,
We never see today.
If we think only of our future,
our present on a shelf will stay.
When you look up into the sky,
and a dream is all you see.
If you keep on looking for tomorrow,
tomorrow will never be.
forget the ones we’ve got.
We think of things we can get,
the ones we have matter not.
We hope for dreams we soon shall find,
forget the ones we own.
We think of how much we may grow,
forget how much we’ve grown.
We think of where we can later go.
don’t take in where we are.
We dream of where or success will be
but seem not to go far.
If we look forward to tomorrow,
We never see today.
If we think only of our future,
our present on a shelf will stay.
When you look up into the sky,
and a dream is all you see.
If you keep on looking for tomorrow,
tomorrow will never be.
What happened to thought?
Where did the thinking people go? They were there it seems just a moment ago, and then when I looked around, they were gone.
You remember thinking, don't you? That exercise where you took disparate elements and bounced them around in your mind; testing one thesis against another; comparing one with the other; looking at alternative views? You say, you don't remember? Perhaps that is because we have evolved beyond thought.
What happened to thought? Where did it go? It was nothing less, dear reader, than murder most foul. Yes, thought has died, and we are the perpetrators of this most heinous crime. We have killed it, and left it to lie bleached and dessicated under the blazing sun, on the barren sands of greed and selfishness. We murdered thought when we surrendered our free will to the panderers of partisan wrangling and sound bite discourse.
Our obsession with instant gratification and the inability to take the time for patient analysis had already sapped thought of much of its vitality, rendering it vulnerable and weak. It was knocked to its knees by our reckless pursuit of short term profits and instant solutions.
Our educational system, with its focus on tests without intellectual content, was an unindicted conspirator in the slaying. Fear of lawsuits and anger from parents who wanted little Faith to pass whether or not she could read or count to ten without letting her conceptualize whatever she was saying. Schools that pushed millions of barely literate 'graduates' out into the world were the scenes of the crime.
A legal system that aided and abetted development of a culture of blaming others for whatever goes wrong, and never accepting personal responsibility played a critical role in the death of thought. We quit thinking for ourselves; the system was there to do this on our behalf. Like the fish that lives in darkness and finally evolves into a creature without eyes, we are rapidly becoming organisms who only need our brains to perform the necessary functions that keep us alive, like eating, breathing and heartbeat.
Thought is dead. One can only hope and pray that, like Lazarus, it can be brought back to life before it is too late.
You remember thinking, don't you? That exercise where you took disparate elements and bounced them around in your mind; testing one thesis against another; comparing one with the other; looking at alternative views? You say, you don't remember? Perhaps that is because we have evolved beyond thought.
Our obsession with instant gratification and the inability to take the time for patient analysis had already sapped thought of much of its vitality, rendering it vulnerable and weak. It was knocked to its knees by our reckless pursuit of short term profits and instant solutions.
Our educational system, with its focus on tests without intellectual content, was an unindicted conspirator in the slaying. Fear of lawsuits and anger from parents who wanted little Faith to pass whether or not she could read or count to ten without letting her conceptualize whatever she was saying. Schools that pushed millions of barely literate 'graduates' out into the world were the scenes of the crime.
A legal system that aided and abetted development of a culture of blaming others for whatever goes wrong, and never accepting personal responsibility played a critical role in the death of thought. We quit thinking for ourselves; the system was there to do this on our behalf. Like the fish that lives in darkness and finally evolves into a creature without eyes, we are rapidly becoming organisms who only need our brains to perform the necessary functions that keep us alive, like eating, breathing and heartbeat.
Thought is dead. One can only hope and pray that, like Lazarus, it can be brought back to life before it is too late.
Interview with God
An 10 year old girl by the name of Cierra laid on her bed as she watched the ceiling. She glanced over and looked at the picture of Jesus on her wall. Cierra had spent all of her young life in church. Her father is the pastor at Mt. Zion Baptist Church and her mother holds the position of music director. Cierra remembered her father during Sunday service would tell the congregation If you talk to God He will talk to you. Cierra looked at the picture again. She was trying to muster up enough courage to ask God some questions and most of all to see if He would respond.
"God why is there so much violence in the world?"
There was silence. Cierra waited. She knew that God is real however she did not know if He would answer but she knew that He was able. With in five minutes of her asking Cierra heard a small still voice." "Cierra, Cierra" the voice called. Cierra said" speak Lord for your child is listening." The voice said "I did not create violence. I'm not the author of confusion. I have given man a lot of precious gifts and one of them is free will. I have made them free will agents. They have to choose to do well. My will is that they will choose life and not death. For in me there is life, peace and joy."
"God why did you send your son Jesus to die for me and mankind?"
"When I created Adam and Eve they had a wonderful relationship with me. I would walk through the garden in the cool of the day and commune with them. When Satan appeared to Eve in the garden and they disobeyed me that relationship was severed. I sent my son Jesus so that man can be reconciled back unto me."
"God why did you create the devil?"
"The devil did not start off as the devil. I created Lucifer- Son of the Morning. He decided that he wanted to exalt himself above Me. The spirit of pride began to take him over and he was cast out of Heaven along with one third of the angels. These angles became his followers."
"God I hear my daddy say that you are coming back again. God are you really coming back?"
"My dear child I come everyday for my people. I will return. The key is not when will I return, but will you be ready when I return? No one knows that day or the hour, but I want you to tell them to be ready."
"You want me to tell them to be ready?" asked Cierra. "Yes" said God. "I'm going to use you at an early age to spread my word. I love your child like faith that I have placed in you. Do not be afraid of their faces and do not let them tell you that you are only a child. I will always be with you. I will never leave you nor forsake you. As you begin to study my word you will open your mouth and I will speak through you."
Cierra laid there with tears falling from her eyes. She knew that she had spoken with God but most of all she knew that God had spoken too her.
An interview with God.
There was silence. Cierra waited. She knew that God is real however she did not know if He would answer but she knew that He was able. With in five minutes of her asking Cierra heard a small still voice." "Cierra, Cierra" the voice called. Cierra said" speak Lord for your child is listening." The voice said "I did not create violence. I'm not the author of confusion. I have given man a lot of precious gifts and one of them is free will. I have made them free will agents. They have to choose to do well. My will is that they will choose life and not death. For in me there is life, peace and joy."
"God why did you send your son Jesus to die for me and mankind?"
"When I created Adam and Eve they had a wonderful relationship with me. I would walk through the garden in the cool of the day and commune with them. When Satan appeared to Eve in the garden and they disobeyed me that relationship was severed. I sent my son Jesus so that man can be reconciled back unto me."
"God why did you create the devil?"
"The devil did not start off as the devil. I created Lucifer- Son of the Morning. He decided that he wanted to exalt himself above Me. The spirit of pride began to take him over and he was cast out of Heaven along with one third of the angels. These angles became his followers."
"God I hear my daddy say that you are coming back again. God are you really coming back?"
"My dear child I come everyday for my people. I will return. The key is not when will I return, but will you be ready when I return? No one knows that day or the hour, but I want you to tell them to be ready."
"You want me to tell them to be ready?" asked Cierra. "Yes" said God. "I'm going to use you at an early age to spread my word. I love your child like faith that I have placed in you. Do not be afraid of their faces and do not let them tell you that you are only a child. I will always be with you. I will never leave you nor forsake you. As you begin to study my word you will open your mouth and I will speak through you."
Cierra laid there with tears falling from her eyes. She knew that she had spoken with God but most of all she knew that God had spoken too her.
An interview with God.
Without Courage
Of all the virtues man acquires, I believe Courage is the most universally respected and admired. Contrary to popular opinion, Courage is not dealing with a situation with reckless abandon, nor meeting a challenge without regard to consequences. To me, courage is a much more complex and comprehensive set of behavioral characteristics arising from one’s beliefs about life and how you chose to live life. Aristotle, the ancient Greek philosopher, described it accurately as:
“Courage is the first of human qualities;
Because it is the quality which guarantees the others”.
The act of Courage is much more than facing a danger or taking on a challenge. It is a quality of spirit that enables you to act appropriately in the face of the unexpected challenges.
It is the strength of character that allows you to face apparent obstacles or dangers or the unknown with measured responses and a commitment to succeed. Equally, it can also be facing defeat and knowing that you will come out of the encounter wiser and richer.
Like most human characteristics, courage is not inherited and is not present at birth, but is developed and nurtured gradually by learning and by exposure to risk taking. Children who are not afforded the opportunity to meet and deal with challenges are necessarily lacking this ability and invariably find difficulty in responding to situations with the level of courage needed.
Courage, to be managed successfully, requires the use of all the elements of human behavior. Unlike the blind, impulsive response of a rage reaction which is no different than an animal response, true courage draws on a complex mix of human characteristics including experience, maturity, intelligence, confidence and logic. To be successful the response must be balanced and directed, with a definitive, realistic goal.
Examples of Courage and Courageous behavior abound all around us but most of the time we do not recognize them. Some are easy to recognize such as when a police officer faces an armed assailant, his action is one of supreme courage, similarly when a soldier is sent in harm’s way, he carries his courage each time, for they know they risk serious consequences. In other situations Courage is expressed in the form of commitment.
The truth is that courage is expressed in millions of diverse ways by so many of us without any concern of gain or reward. The only consideration is the intention to do the right thing at all cost. This above all, is the essential component for leading a life of fulfillment and satisfaction.
As Maya Angelou, the celebrated Florida-based, African-American poet, noted:
One isn't necessarily born with Courage, but one is born with potential.
Without Courage, we cannot practice any other virtue with consistency.
We can't be kind, true, merciful, generous, or honest”.
Because it is the quality which guarantees the others”.
The act of Courage is much more than facing a danger or taking on a challenge. It is a quality of spirit that enables you to act appropriately in the face of the unexpected challenges.
It is the strength of character that allows you to face apparent obstacles or dangers or the unknown with measured responses and a commitment to succeed. Equally, it can also be facing defeat and knowing that you will come out of the encounter wiser and richer.
Like most human characteristics, courage is not inherited and is not present at birth, but is developed and nurtured gradually by learning and by exposure to risk taking. Children who are not afforded the opportunity to meet and deal with challenges are necessarily lacking this ability and invariably find difficulty in responding to situations with the level of courage needed.
Courage, to be managed successfully, requires the use of all the elements of human behavior. Unlike the blind, impulsive response of a rage reaction which is no different than an animal response, true courage draws on a complex mix of human characteristics including experience, maturity, intelligence, confidence and logic. To be successful the response must be balanced and directed, with a definitive, realistic goal.
Examples of Courage and Courageous behavior abound all around us but most of the time we do not recognize them. Some are easy to recognize such as when a police officer faces an armed assailant, his action is one of supreme courage, similarly when a soldier is sent in harm’s way, he carries his courage each time, for they know they risk serious consequences. In other situations Courage is expressed in the form of commitment.
The truth is that courage is expressed in millions of diverse ways by so many of us without any concern of gain or reward. The only consideration is the intention to do the right thing at all cost. This above all, is the essential component for leading a life of fulfillment and satisfaction.
As Maya Angelou, the celebrated Florida-based, African-American poet, noted:
One isn't necessarily born with Courage, but one is born with potential.
Without Courage, we cannot practice any other virtue with consistency.
We can't be kind, true, merciful, generous, or honest”.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Her confession.
She had soaked it all in, but by one look on her face I knew that she was keeping something from me. I never tried asking but I looked at her in a manner to suggest that she had better start talking or else I will just have to extract the information from her using my own ‘tennee’ means.
Marlene is her name, my best friend in campus. It was the wee hours of the day when we were having our chit-chat after lectures when she finally confided in me.
--------------------
She loved to watch him. She loved to get lost in the very few, but deep, aging lines in his forehead, imagining the struggles he has had in his life, and recognizing how beautifully they had shaped a boy into this man that stood before her. She loved hearing his voice, like a Ethiopian song to an Kenyan audience; they didn’t speak the language, but had hopes for the day when they might understand the meaning of those so elegantly grouped together words, in a tone that confirms its mastery of the language. A tone that humors you as you try to keep up, in a non-degrading way. His lips would quiver in a very secretive manner when he made a joke and none of us could process it fast enough to share the childish giggle with him. Even Marlene herself.
When she got lost in her head, walking through all of the possible encounters with him on the campus corridors she had yet the invitation to enjoy, he would often catch her off guard with a question she had no answer to. She would then just gaze blankly at him. Besides what could she possibly have in her feeble conformed mind that would be of any entertainment to him? He looked sharp and a mastery of all trades in a manner only Marlene could describe even though my vantage point was totally different from hers. That’s what she feared, she knew none of her daydreaming would get her any closer to being able to have a one-on-one conversation with him. She knew that he was far to busy living his life to spare the time to impact hers in a more direct way. She did not wish to be the lady he came home to, that she imagined would nag him for problems so miniscule. Nor did she want to take him away from his own world. She simply wanted to talk with him, get to know more about him, let him know her.
He was beautifully broken, yet so held together. He was ugly in the most attractive way. That was my friends description. Physically he was not much to look at, his body held his thinning head about six feet and 2 inches off of the ground, in the middle there was a slight belly that suggested he didn’t do much on weekends. His torso with a simple T-shirt. His face was normal, nothing misproportioned, nothing too stunning, except his eyes. His eyes were the most excruciating mind dazzling subject she had come across. The windows to his mind, and much like his mind, they were confident. They had the effect of a light to a moth, a light that once inside you shines so brightly it’s hard to fathom its presence.
Every word that came so ghost-like out of his mouth was treated like the word of God by her. And that’s precisely what he was to her, a god of sorts, an answer her questioning the importance of knowledge. He was her very own faith, taking shape. And it was the shape of a twenty-three year old man standing at the front of a half-filled classroom pouring his genius into tiny heads like Marlenes’.They looked in a metaphoric way, like rags already soaked in sticky fluid, trying to soak up the rest of a spill. They tried, and tried, week after week, to wring out all of the old knowledge so that they would have room for his much more significant teachings. And that’s where she is left every Tuesday afternoon, talking about the mystery man after lectures.
-------------
I liked to pick on her but this day I couldn’t. It was all in her eyes. She knew I would not judge or question her faith because I was her friend. Marlene didn’t look up the whole time. But that was normal for her. We were all silent for some time, then we burst out laughing.
She knew my answer…..
Monday, July 18, 2011
The subpoena
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.
“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 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.