[Soaring above...]

The Two Wolves

Long ago, there was an old Native American man that we'll name Keeper. He told his grandson about a battle that was going on inside him.

He said, "My son, the battle inside me is between two wolves. One is evil and filled with envy, fear, greed, false pride and lies. The other is good and filled with compassion, inner strength, faith and truth."

The grandson thought about it for few minutes and then asked, "Which wolf wins?"

Keeper simply replied, "The one I feed."

Struggle

A man found a cocoon of an emperor moth. He took it home so that he could watch the moth come out of the cocoon. On that day a small opening appeared, he sat and watched the moth for several hours as the moth struggled to force the body through that little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could and it could go no farther. It just seemed to be stuck. Then the man, in his kindness, decided to help the moth, so he took a pair of scissors and snipped off the remaining bit of the cocoon.

The moth then emerged easily. But it had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings. The man continued to watch the moth because he expected that, at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to be able to support the body, which would contract in time. Neither happened! In fact, the little moth spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly.

What the man in his kindness and haste did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the moth to get through the tiny opening was the way of forcing fluid from the body of the moth into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon. Freedom and flight would only come after the struggle. By depriving the moth of a struggle, he deprived it of its health. Without struggle there is not strength.

The Parable of the Zither

"Sona, you cannot produce a good sound on the zither if you tighten the strings too much, can you?"

"That is correct, man of great virtue."

"And at the other extreme, you cannot produce a good sound either if you loosen the strings too much, can you?"

"What you said is precisely right, man of great virtue."

"Then what would you do?"

"Man of great virtue, it is vital to tune the strings properly and neither tighten nor loosen them too much."

The Travelers and the Monk

One day a traveller was walking along a road on his journey from one village to another. As he walked he noticed a monk tending the ground in the fields beside the road. The monk said "Good day" to the traveller, and the traveller nodded to the monk. The traveller then turned to the monk and said "Excuse me, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Not at all," replied the monk.

"I am travelling from the village in the mountains to the village in the valley and I was wondering if you knew what it is like in the village in the valley?"

"Tell me," said the monk, "What was your experience of the village in the mountains?"

"Dreadful," replied the traveller, "to be honest I am glad to be away from there. I found the people most unwelcoming. When I first arrived I was greeted coldly. I was never made to feel part of the village no matter how hard I tried. The villagers keep very much to themselves, they don't take kindly to strangers. So tell me, what can I expect in the village in the valley?"

"I am sorry to tell you," said the monk, "but I think your experience will be much the same there".

The traveller hung his head despondently and walked on.

A while later another traveller was journeying down the same road and he also came upon the monk.

"I'm going to the village in the valley," said the second traveller, "Do you know what it is like?"

"I do," replied the monk "But first tell me - where have you come from?"

"I've come from the village in the mountains."

"And how was that?"

"It was a wonderful experience. I would have stayed if I could but I am committed to travelling on. I felt as though I was a member of the family in the village. The elders gave me much advice, the children laughed and joked with me and people were generally kind and generous. I am sad to have left there. It will always hold special memories for me. And what of the village in the valley?" he asked again.

"I think you will find it much the same" replied the monk, "Good day to you".

"Good day and thank you," the traveller replied, smiled, and journeyed on.

~author unknown

[will8929]

i like stuff like this, short, though provoking parable type things
where d'you get them from, or do you just know them;- do you know any more?

[pasiphae9]

I like the one about the wolves A LOT

[GhettoKameleon]

Gay.

[Soaring above...]

i like stuff like this, short, though provoking parable type things
where d'you get them from, or do you just know them;- do you know any more?

Look for them and add the ones you find meaningful to you.

I like the one about the wolves A LOT

I like the travelers and the monk one.

Gay.

no...super gay. So?

A businessman was highly critical of his competitors' storefront windows. "Why, they are the dirtiest windows in town," he claimed. Fellow business people grew tired of the man's continual criticism and nitpicking comments about the windows. One day over coffee, the businessman carried the subject just too far.

Before leaving, a fellow store owner suggested the man get his own windows washed. He followed the advice, and the next day at coffee, he exclaimed, "I can't believe it. As soon as I washed my windows, my competitor must have cleaned his too. You should see them shine."

[fusion]

Yizzawn

[RomiT]

nice
I like The Two Wolves and Struggle very much...
Thanks for sharing

[priya]

awww, love this thread!
my favourite is the struggle and im still thinking about the window one =]
i don't think i know any =/

[Soaring above...]

For the parents and parent-to-be on this forum

"Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts. For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness; For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable."

Kahlil Gibran

[Soaring above...]

The travelling monks at the river

Two traveling monks reached a river where they met a young woman. Wary of the current, she asked if they could carry her across. One of the monks hesitated, but the other quickly picked her up onto his shoulders, transported her across the water, and put her down on the other bank. She thanked him and departed.

As the monks continued on their way, the one was brooding and preoccupied. Unable to hold his silence, he spoke out. "Brother, our spiritual training teaches us to avoid any contact with women, but you picked that one up on your shoulders and carried her!"

"Brother," the second monk replied, "I set her down on the other side, while you are still carrying her."


Giving Blood

Many years ago, when I worked as a transfusion volunteer at Stanford Hospital, I got to know a little girl named Liza who was suffering from a disease and needed blood from her five-year-old brother, who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness.

The doctor explained the situation to her little brother, and asked the boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister. I saw him hesitate for only a moment before taking a deep breath and saying, "Yes, I'll do it if it will save Liza."

As the transfusion progressed, he lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheeks. Then his face grew pale and his smile faded. He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, "Will I start to die right away?"

[Soaring above...]

She is 92 years old, petite, well poised, and proud. She is fully dressed each morning by eight o'clock, with her hair fashionably coifed, and her makeup perfectly applied, in spite of the fact she is legally blind. Today she has moved to a nursing home. Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making this move necessary.

After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, where I am employed, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready. As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet curtains that had been hung on her window.

"I love it," she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year old having just been presented with a new puppy.

"Mrs. Jones, you haven't seen the room....just wait," I said.

Then she spoke these words that I will never forget: "That does not have anything to do with it," she gently replied. "Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like the room or not, does not depend on how the furniture is arranged. It is how I arrange my mind. I have already decided to love it. It is a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice. I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or I can get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do work. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open, I will focus on the new day and all of the happy memories I have stored away....just for this time in my life.

[Vyxn]

This thread gives me the warm fuzzies

[Soaring above...]

Aesop

The Fox and the Mask
A FOX entered the house of an actor and, rummaging through all
his properties, came upon a Mask, an admirable imitation of a
human head. He placed his paws on it and said, "What a beautiful
head! Yet it is of no value, as it entirely lacks brains."

Hercules and Pallas
Hercules, once journeying along a narrow roadway, came across a
strange-looking animal that reared its head and threatened him.
Nothing daunted, the hero gave him a few lusty blows with his club,
and thought to have gone on his way. The monster, however, much to the
astonishment of Hercules, was now three times as big as it was before,
and of a still more threatening aspect. He thereupon redoubled his
blows and laid about him fast and furiously; but the harder and
quicker the strokes of the club, the bigger and more frightful grew
the monster, and now completely filled up the road. Pallas then
appeared upon the scene. "Stop, Hercules," said she. "Cease your
blows. The monster's name is Strife. Let it alone, and it will soon
become as little as it was at first."

[scinsocal]

I think healing things like this to ponder are just what may be needed. At least for me, I am chosing to concentrate on good things. Thanks for the reminders.

[jmig]

If you were going to quote Aesop today I think The Boy Who Cried Wolf would have been a better choice...

[!GG]

I hope you don't mind me sharing. An ex-boss of mine emailed this to everyone in our shift.


The Stone Soup Legend

There exists a tale, handed down from times long ago, of two travelers on a pilgrimage. Hungry and tired from a long day’s journey, they come to a small, impoverished, medieval village, where they decide to rest by the side of the road. One of the travelers builds a small fire, upon which he places a large pot, while the other, having drawn water from the town well, fills the pot and places into the vessel a simple stone. As the two men sit by the fire, bringing their "stone soup" to a boil, the local villagers become inquisitive of the curious antics of these strangers. Eventually, several townsfolk decide to investigate the matter and approach the two travelers to engage them in conversation.

Shortly thereafter, there is heard the sound of merriment, as the visitors, who turn out to be quite friendly, share their tales of the lands and people they have met throughout their journey and pilgrimage with the local villagers.

Finally, a young boy asks the travelers "But why, pray thee, are you boiling a stone?"

One of the pilgrims replies, "So we may eat stone soup."

"It must be terribly bland!" says an old woman. "But I have a cabbage, which will add some flavor!"

"And I, some carrots, which will add color!" says another villager.

"Some potatoes!", offers another, until, shortly, by the contribution of a little by many, a hearty stew was made, upon which the entire village and the weary pilgrims dined... and while doing so, shared their tales, talents, and camaraderie throughout the night.

The very next day, the travelers (who by now could be called "strangers" no more), continued their journey, leaving the little town, and its people, behind. But the villagers never forgot them, and the lesson they had learned. In fact, during the hardest of times, in such a time as this tale, that little village thrived, because the townsfolk never forgot how to make "stone soup".

Such is the legend of the "Stone Soup Story".

[!GG]

The Window

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same
hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his
bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the
fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The
other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of
their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in
the military service, where they had been on vacation.

Every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window
could sit up, he would pass the time by describing
to his roommate all the things he could see outside
the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those
one-hour periods where his world would be broadened
and enlivened by all the activity and color of the
world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.
Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed
their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm
amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of
the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in
exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the
room would close his eyes and imagine the
picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described
a parade passing by. Although the other man couldn't
hear the band - he could see it. In his mind's eye
as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with
descriptive words.

Days and weeks passed. One morning, the day nurse
arrived to bring water for their baths only to find
the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had
died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and
called the hospital attendants to take the body
away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man
asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse
was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he
was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one
elbow to take his first look at the real world outside.
He strained to slowly turn to look out the window
beside the bed. It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled
his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful
things outside this window. The nurse responded that the man was blind
and could not even see the wall. She said, "Perhaps he
just wanted to encourage you."


Epilogue: There is tremendous happiness in making
others happy, despite our own situations.
Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness
when shared, is doubled.

If you want to feel rich, just count all the things
you have that money can't buy.

"Today is a gift, that's why it is called the present."

The origin of this letter is unknown...

People will forget what you said...

People will forget what you did...

But people will never forget how you made them feel...

Make someone happy, share a kind word today!

[!GG]

Rose



The first day of school our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn't already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder.
I turned round to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entire being.

She said, 'Hi handsome. My name is Rose.
I'm eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?'

I laughed and enthusiastically responded, 'Of course you may!' and she gave me a giant squeeze.

'Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?' I asked.

She jokingly replied, 'I'm here to meet a rich husband, get married, and have a couple of kids...'

'No seriously,' I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age.

'I always dreamed of having a college education and now I'm getting one!' she told me.

After class we walked to the student union building and shared a chocolate milkshake.

We became instant friends. Every day for the next three months we would leave class together and talk nonstop I was always mesmerized listening to this 'time machine' as she shared her wisdom and experience with me.

Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made friends wherever she went.

She loved to dress up and she reveled in the attention bestowed upon her from the other students. She was living it up.

At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet.

I'll never forget what she taught us. She was introduced and stepped up to the podium. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by five cards on the floor.

Frustrated and a little embarrassed she leaned into the microphone and simply said, 'I'm sorry I'm so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me! I'll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell you what I know.'

As we laughed she cleared her throat and began, 'We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing.

There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success. You have to laugh and find humor every day. You've got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die.

We have so many people walking around who are dead and don't even know it!

There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up.

If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don't do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty-eight.

Anybody can grow older. That doesn't take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding opportunity in change. Have no regrets.

The elderly usually don't have regrets for what we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with regrets.'

She concluded her speech by courageously singing 'The Rose.'

She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives.

At the year's end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago.

One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep.

Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that
it's never too late to be all you can possibly be

These words have been passed along in loving memory of ROSE.

REMEMBER, GROWING OLDER IS MANDATORY. GROWING UP IS OPTIONAL.

We make a Living by what we get, We make a Life by what we give.

[!GG]

What Goes Around, Comes Around


He almost didn't see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road.
But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he
pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still
sputtering when he approached her.

Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to
help for the last hour or so ... was he going to hurt her? He didn't
look safe; he looked poor and hungry.

He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold.
He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fear can put in you.

He said, "I'm here to help you, ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car
where it's warm? By the way, my name is Bryan."

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad
enough.

Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack,
skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the
tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt.

As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and
began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was
only just passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to
her aid.

Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. She asked him how much she
owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already
imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not
stopped.

Bryan never thought twice about being paid. This was not a job
to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were
plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole
life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way.

He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time
she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the
assistance they needed, and Bryan added, "And think of me."

He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold
and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home,
disappearing into the twilight.

A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to
grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg
of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two
old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register
was like the telephone of an out-of-work actor -- it didn't ring much.

The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair.
She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole
day couldn't erase. The lady noticed the waitress was nearly eight
months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her
attitude.

The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving
to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan.

After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to get change
for her hundred dollar bill, the lady slipped right out the door. She
was gone by the time the waitress came back.

The waitress wondered where the lady could be. Then she noticed
something written on the napkin under which were four $100 bills.

There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: "You
don't owe me anything. I have been there too. Somebody once helped me
out, the way I'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here
is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you."

Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to
serve, but the waitress made it through another day.

That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed,
she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written.
How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it?
With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard.

She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to
her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything's
gonna be all right. I love you, Bryan."

There is an old saying "What goes around comes around."

"Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it
will bring back: a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country."

"COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS DAILY, AND FORGET YOUR TROUBLES"

[!GG]

Don't Quit Poem
by anonymous

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest! if you must; but don't you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As everyone of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don't give up, though the pace seems slow;
You might succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man,
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor's cup.
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out;
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt;
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit;
It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.