12 Spiritual Lessons from 'Prince Caspian'
By Kris Rasmussen
It has been more than two years since moviegoers had a chance to visit the magical, mystical land of C.S. Lewis's Narnia, where it was always winter but never Christmas until the Pevensie children--Lucy, Edmund, Susan, and Peter--showed up to help Aslan defeat the White Witch. But now we are transported back to Narnia in the new movie "The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian," coming to theaters May 16.
Throughout the series, and in "Prince Caspian" in particular, the main characters face a series of life-changing situations and learn many things about themselves and others. Click through this gallery of photos from the new movie, and find out more about the world of "Prince Caspian" and the spiritual wisdom we can gain as we revisit the land of Narnia.
Click:
http://www.beliefnet.com/gallery/spirit ... ?pgIndex=0
Teachable Moments
Meditation in Affliction
Assailed by afflictions, we discover Dharma
And find the way to liberation. Thank you, evil forces!
When sorrows invade the mind, we discover Dharma
And find lasting happiness. Thank you, sorrows!
Through harm caused by spirits we discover Dharma
And find fearlessness. Thank you, ghosts and demons!
Through people's hate we discover Dharma
And find benefits and happiness. Thank you, those who hate us!
Through cruel adversity, we discover Dharma
And find the unchanging way. Thank you, adversity!
Through being impelled to by others, we discover Dharma
And find the essential meaning. Thank you, all who drive us on!
We dedicate our merit to you all, to repay your kindness.
- Gyalwa Longchenpa
Assailed by afflictions, we discover Dharma
And find the way to liberation. Thank you, evil forces!
When sorrows invade the mind, we discover Dharma
And find lasting happiness. Thank you, sorrows!
Through harm caused by spirits we discover Dharma
And find fearlessness. Thank you, ghosts and demons!
Through people's hate we discover Dharma
And find benefits and happiness. Thank you, those who hate us!
Through cruel adversity, we discover Dharma
And find the unchanging way. Thank you, adversity!
Through being impelled to by others, we discover Dharma
And find the essential meaning. Thank you, all who drive us on!
We dedicate our merit to you all, to repay your kindness.
- Gyalwa Longchenpa
Knowing Isn't Everything
I would rather live in a world where my life is surrounded by mystery than live in a world so small that my mind could comprehend it.
-Harry Emerson Fosdick
From "Healing Zen" by Ellen Birx:
There is much that cannot be known by thinking or reasoning. There are other ways of knowing and there are mysteries that cannot be grasped intellectually. Healing often comes through opening to other ways of knowing, to the mystery of life, and to not knowing. In opening to both knowing and not knowing, you come face to face with the wonder of life and its boundless possibilities.
When we are studying difficult subjects like chemistry, physiology, mathematics, or philosophy, and we finally comprehend some principle or process, we say, "Oh, now I get it. Now I grasp the idea." This kind of thinking and knowing is very useful, but it is not enough. We must also be able to release our grip, stop our mental grasping, and open to something larger. This is what we call not knowing. We need the mental flexibility to both know and not know.
Not knowing is important in interpersonal relationships. There is respect and reverence in communicating to other people that you don't know them, their life experiences, and their feelings. When some great loss occurs, you don't say, "I know how you feel." You don't know. All you can say is, "I'm so sorry." In not knowing, you honor their unique experience, their unique expression, and their unique truth. Rather than assuming that you already know them, you are more attentive and open to learn more about them. It is a vital, sensitive, dynamic way of relating.
Charles and I have been married for over thirty years. You may think that after all these year I know Charles. I do know what he likes to eat. Often in a restaurant he looks at the menu and asks me, "What would I like?" I know what size and color shirt he likes and what music he prefers. But there are many things about Charles I do not know. He continues to surprise me. In fact, he amazes me. As the Zen saying goes, "Not knowing is most intimate."
I would rather live in a world where my life is surrounded by mystery than live in a world so small that my mind could comprehend it.
-Harry Emerson Fosdick
From "Healing Zen" by Ellen Birx:
There is much that cannot be known by thinking or reasoning. There are other ways of knowing and there are mysteries that cannot be grasped intellectually. Healing often comes through opening to other ways of knowing, to the mystery of life, and to not knowing. In opening to both knowing and not knowing, you come face to face with the wonder of life and its boundless possibilities.
When we are studying difficult subjects like chemistry, physiology, mathematics, or philosophy, and we finally comprehend some principle or process, we say, "Oh, now I get it. Now I grasp the idea." This kind of thinking and knowing is very useful, but it is not enough. We must also be able to release our grip, stop our mental grasping, and open to something larger. This is what we call not knowing. We need the mental flexibility to both know and not know.
Not knowing is important in interpersonal relationships. There is respect and reverence in communicating to other people that you don't know them, their life experiences, and their feelings. When some great loss occurs, you don't say, "I know how you feel." You don't know. All you can say is, "I'm so sorry." In not knowing, you honor their unique experience, their unique expression, and their unique truth. Rather than assuming that you already know them, you are more attentive and open to learn more about them. It is a vital, sensitive, dynamic way of relating.
Charles and I have been married for over thirty years. You may think that after all these year I know Charles. I do know what he likes to eat. Often in a restaurant he looks at the menu and asks me, "What would I like?" I know what size and color shirt he likes and what music he prefers. But there are many things about Charles I do not know. He continues to surprise me. In fact, he amazes me. As the Zen saying goes, "Not knowing is most intimate."
A Camel in a Cage
A woman who lost her sight uses a wonderful parable to knock down self-imposed limitations.
By Janet Perez Eckles
A baby camel asked his mother, "Why do we have such large hooves on our feet?" She turned to him. "God made us that way for a very special reason," and she began her explanation. "The big hooves are to keep us from sinking into the sand."
"Oh! So why do we have long eyelashes?"
"It's to protect our eyes from the sand."
"Why the big humps?"
"That is to store fat and have enough energy to go long distances in the hot desert!"
"I see!" The baby camel stretched his neck and looked up at his mother, "The big hooves are to keep from sinking into the sand, the long eyelashes are to keep the sand out of our eyes, and the humps are to store energy to travel long distances--then what are we doing in this cage in the middle of a zoo?"
Like the camel, I had asked the same kind of questions. When my blindness set in, I initially locked myself in a cage of self-pity and bitterness. Weary from pacing within that gloomy cage, something nudged me to see beyond my circumstance and unfortunate plight.
Heavens! What was I thinking? Those bars were self-imposed. But worst of all, I'd supported them with the cold metal of my negative attitude.
Eventually, eagerness to leave my stuffy cell of discontent prompted me to open my ears to hear a reassuring whisper--God had created me for much more.
Itching to break free, I broke down those bars and stepped out into the desert of life. I trudged through the heat with determination and drive. I endured the blistering sun with perseverance and tenacity. I quenched my thirst with fresh inspiration and encouragement. And the hooves of confidence kept me from sinking into the sand of insecurity.
Thinking ahead, I made sure I'd stored a healthy supply of wisdom and positive attitude to take me through the long haul.
Goodness gracious. Each time I reached another point in my journey, my eyes saw a whole new world with opportunities to make a difference. Best of all, I was delighted with the affirmation that I was indeed created for much more! Bars come in all sizes and shapes. Some are physical, others are emotional or even mental. But none can withstand the force of determination that breaks them down. The effort is worth it and the results, simply amazing! So, batting my long eyelashes to keep out the sand of discouragement, I challenge you...
Step back and peek at what bars limit you. Take a deep breath, break them down, and emerge into the freshness of a new life!
Janet Perez Eckles is a freelance writer and contributor to seven books including the 'Chicken Soup for the Soul' series. She authored 'Trials of Today, Treasures for Tomorrow: Overcoming Adversities in Life.' To sign up for her inspirational newsletter, visit her website, www.janetperezeckles.com.
A woman who lost her sight uses a wonderful parable to knock down self-imposed limitations.
By Janet Perez Eckles
A baby camel asked his mother, "Why do we have such large hooves on our feet?" She turned to him. "God made us that way for a very special reason," and she began her explanation. "The big hooves are to keep us from sinking into the sand."
"Oh! So why do we have long eyelashes?"
"It's to protect our eyes from the sand."
"Why the big humps?"
"That is to store fat and have enough energy to go long distances in the hot desert!"
"I see!" The baby camel stretched his neck and looked up at his mother, "The big hooves are to keep from sinking into the sand, the long eyelashes are to keep the sand out of our eyes, and the humps are to store energy to travel long distances--then what are we doing in this cage in the middle of a zoo?"
Like the camel, I had asked the same kind of questions. When my blindness set in, I initially locked myself in a cage of self-pity and bitterness. Weary from pacing within that gloomy cage, something nudged me to see beyond my circumstance and unfortunate plight.
Heavens! What was I thinking? Those bars were self-imposed. But worst of all, I'd supported them with the cold metal of my negative attitude.
Eventually, eagerness to leave my stuffy cell of discontent prompted me to open my ears to hear a reassuring whisper--God had created me for much more.
Itching to break free, I broke down those bars and stepped out into the desert of life. I trudged through the heat with determination and drive. I endured the blistering sun with perseverance and tenacity. I quenched my thirst with fresh inspiration and encouragement. And the hooves of confidence kept me from sinking into the sand of insecurity.
Thinking ahead, I made sure I'd stored a healthy supply of wisdom and positive attitude to take me through the long haul.
Goodness gracious. Each time I reached another point in my journey, my eyes saw a whole new world with opportunities to make a difference. Best of all, I was delighted with the affirmation that I was indeed created for much more! Bars come in all sizes and shapes. Some are physical, others are emotional or even mental. But none can withstand the force of determination that breaks them down. The effort is worth it and the results, simply amazing! So, batting my long eyelashes to keep out the sand of discouragement, I challenge you...
Step back and peek at what bars limit you. Take a deep breath, break them down, and emerge into the freshness of a new life!
Janet Perez Eckles is a freelance writer and contributor to seven books including the 'Chicken Soup for the Soul' series. She authored 'Trials of Today, Treasures for Tomorrow: Overcoming Adversities in Life.' To sign up for her inspirational newsletter, visit her website, www.janetperezeckles.com.
Top 10 Journeys to the Center of the Soul
http://www.beliefnet.com/gallery/top10j ... ?pgIndex=0
By John Brooks
The classic Jules Verne novel, "Journey to the Center of the Earth," has captured the imaginations of would-be adventurers for nearly a hundred and fifty years.
July 11th sees the latest Hollywood update of the story: a thrilling, contemporary version starring Brendan Fraser and presented in vivid 3-D! But "Journey to the Center of the Earth" is more than just an adventure. It is also a metaphor for the inner, personal journeys we all take that allow us to grow as people and spiritual beings.
So we thought we'd mark the occasion of the film's release by looking at the top ten stories that have explored these themes in creative, memorable, and often timeless ways. Click here to start the gallery.
http://www.beliefnet.com/gallery/top10j ... ?pgIndex=1
http://www.beliefnet.com/gallery/top10j ... ?pgIndex=0
By John Brooks
The classic Jules Verne novel, "Journey to the Center of the Earth," has captured the imaginations of would-be adventurers for nearly a hundred and fifty years.
July 11th sees the latest Hollywood update of the story: a thrilling, contemporary version starring Brendan Fraser and presented in vivid 3-D! But "Journey to the Center of the Earth" is more than just an adventure. It is also a metaphor for the inner, personal journeys we all take that allow us to grow as people and spiritual beings.
So we thought we'd mark the occasion of the film's release by looking at the top ten stories that have explored these themes in creative, memorable, and often timeless ways. Click here to start the gallery.
http://www.beliefnet.com/gallery/top10j ... ?pgIndex=1
Beauty, Shining Through
My son's body was covered with scars, but his spirit came through pure and true.
By Lynne Massie
It was 4 o'clock in the morning on June 9, 2003, when I received the phone call parents dread.
"This is the emergency room calling and your son was just brought in with severe burns on his face, neck, and arms. We have called for an airlift and are going to fly him to the burn unit in Seattle."
Seattle was 350 miles from his college, so we knew immediately this was serious.
The physician described the accident, which caused the burns. At 2am, our son and his friends decided to barbecue hamburgers in the courtyard of their apartment complex. Not exactly the dinner hour for you and me, but for college students, probably fairly normal. While they were cooking, an automatic sprinkler system came on, dousing the grill. They dragged the wet grill to another location and attempted to relight it. Doing what most adults know not to do, they squirted lighter fluid directly on the smoldering coals. The grill literally exploded, and, as it ignited, the flames caught my son's shirt tail. With his clothes ablaze, the flames shot from his waist to well over his head.
Fortunately, one of the boys was quick witted, grabbed my son, and rolled him into the sprinkler system. While it saved his life, it was not in time to save him from severe burns and the associated terrible scars.
After he recovered from the intense treatments, the doctors told him they would not do plastic surgery for 6 months because it takes that long for the skin to stop shrinking and wrinkling. So, he had to return to college with scars typical of severe burns.
When I was a child, my mother told my sister, who had a 10 inch, very visible and nasty scar on her arm, "Nancy, if you ignore the scar, other people will ignore it. It does not mean they will not notice it, because they will. But, it means it will not matter to them if it doesn't matter to you."
I passed this wisdom on to my son.
"Keaton, no one will pay any more attention to your scars than you do. If they do not bother you, they will not bother others." He took my advice to heart and returned to school with his head held high -- glad he was alive.
By the end of the six-month waiting period, he decided that the scars did not matter and did not define who he was. So he made the decision to forgo any plastic surgery.
We all have scars and flaws that we believe cause people to shun us. And we spend a lot of time thinking that if only we looked differently, or dressed differently, or could have more money, or a different and newer car, people would like us better.
But you see, like Keaton's scars, people will only judge you by your looks, or your clothes, or your car, IF you are judging yourself by these same false standards.
One of my friends in college was as ugly as homemade sin and yet, when people met him, they noticed his looks for about 10 seconds. This man felt good about himself as a person and spent most of his time concerned about other people's comfort and welfare. It never seemed to occur to him he would be rejected because of his looks -- and he wasn't.
What people saw was his kindness, his concern for them, and his sense of humor. They never noticed his looks because he set the standard himself. He didn't act "ugly" so people didn't treat him as "ugly".
What about your scars and flaws? Do you let them define who you are? Do you really believe that other people care about what is only on the surface? Or are you able to look beneath your skin and see the beautiful person residing within?
Today, put your imperfections out of your mind and concentrate on what you value within yourself. Because if you can see that beautiful person, every one you come in contact with will see the same beauty.
Let your beauty shine through.
My son's body was covered with scars, but his spirit came through pure and true.
By Lynne Massie
It was 4 o'clock in the morning on June 9, 2003, when I received the phone call parents dread.
"This is the emergency room calling and your son was just brought in with severe burns on his face, neck, and arms. We have called for an airlift and are going to fly him to the burn unit in Seattle."
Seattle was 350 miles from his college, so we knew immediately this was serious.
The physician described the accident, which caused the burns. At 2am, our son and his friends decided to barbecue hamburgers in the courtyard of their apartment complex. Not exactly the dinner hour for you and me, but for college students, probably fairly normal. While they were cooking, an automatic sprinkler system came on, dousing the grill. They dragged the wet grill to another location and attempted to relight it. Doing what most adults know not to do, they squirted lighter fluid directly on the smoldering coals. The grill literally exploded, and, as it ignited, the flames caught my son's shirt tail. With his clothes ablaze, the flames shot from his waist to well over his head.
Fortunately, one of the boys was quick witted, grabbed my son, and rolled him into the sprinkler system. While it saved his life, it was not in time to save him from severe burns and the associated terrible scars.
After he recovered from the intense treatments, the doctors told him they would not do plastic surgery for 6 months because it takes that long for the skin to stop shrinking and wrinkling. So, he had to return to college with scars typical of severe burns.
When I was a child, my mother told my sister, who had a 10 inch, very visible and nasty scar on her arm, "Nancy, if you ignore the scar, other people will ignore it. It does not mean they will not notice it, because they will. But, it means it will not matter to them if it doesn't matter to you."
I passed this wisdom on to my son.
"Keaton, no one will pay any more attention to your scars than you do. If they do not bother you, they will not bother others." He took my advice to heart and returned to school with his head held high -- glad he was alive.
By the end of the six-month waiting period, he decided that the scars did not matter and did not define who he was. So he made the decision to forgo any plastic surgery.
We all have scars and flaws that we believe cause people to shun us. And we spend a lot of time thinking that if only we looked differently, or dressed differently, or could have more money, or a different and newer car, people would like us better.
But you see, like Keaton's scars, people will only judge you by your looks, or your clothes, or your car, IF you are judging yourself by these same false standards.
One of my friends in college was as ugly as homemade sin and yet, when people met him, they noticed his looks for about 10 seconds. This man felt good about himself as a person and spent most of his time concerned about other people's comfort and welfare. It never seemed to occur to him he would be rejected because of his looks -- and he wasn't.
What people saw was his kindness, his concern for them, and his sense of humor. They never noticed his looks because he set the standard himself. He didn't act "ugly" so people didn't treat him as "ugly".
What about your scars and flaws? Do you let them define who you are? Do you really believe that other people care about what is only on the surface? Or are you able to look beneath your skin and see the beautiful person residing within?
Today, put your imperfections out of your mind and concentrate on what you value within yourself. Because if you can see that beautiful person, every one you come in contact with will see the same beauty.
Let your beauty shine through.
The Bus Stop Blessing
All I said to the man was, "Good Morning."
By Martha Williamson
On a street near our home is a bus stop and at that bus stop, nearly every day, a shy and quiet man waits for the bus...
Watch the Video
http://blog.beliefnet.com/MarthaWilliam ... ssing.html
All I said to the man was, "Good Morning."
By Martha Williamson
On a street near our home is a bus stop and at that bus stop, nearly every day, a shy and quiet man waits for the bus...
Watch the Video
http://blog.beliefnet.com/MarthaWilliam ... ssing.html
The Step-Out Moment
When ferocious animals become meek, they teach us a lesson on how animals and man can spiritually reconnect.
from Angels
There’s a certain kind of interaction that happens, sometimes, between animals and people–or between animals and other animals. These interactions can happen regularly or only once, and can last for a long time or for just a few seconds. They’re moments when the people and animals involved (especially the animals) step out of their regular, natural roles, and into other, more mysterious ones.
Whenever or wherever these step-out moments occur, they tend to strike a curiously strong emotional chord with people. The Internet is full of clips of such moments. As I write this, the one making the rounds features a lion named Christian. As a cub, we are told, Christian was purchased by two men who saw him for sale in a London department store and took pity on him. A pastor friend of theirs allowed Christian the run of the grounds of his church. Christian grew, and eventually the men decided that even with all that grass to run on, he would be better off in the wild. They returned him to Africa and set him free. A year later they returned to pay him a visit. The Internet clip shows what happened when they did. Christian sees his former owners, runs toward them, leaps up, and--in an extraordinarily affectionate and strangely human-like way--embraces them.
Step-out moments between animals and other animals (usually a predator and a prey species) are equally popular. A few months back, several people sent me a photo of a group of huskies playing on the Arctic ice with a polar bear.
Why are scenes like this so powerful?
I suspect it’s because they remind us that all creatures, both animals and humans, are not just the flesh-and-blood beings we see on the surface, but spiritual beings: beings who are, in many of the things they normally do down here on earth, playing roles.
Myths and legends from around the world speak of a time when the rules that make the physical world the strangely problematic place it is (rules such as the one that declares that a certain kind of creature must prey on another kind of creature in order to survive) did not yet exist. This was the time of Eden--the time before the world became the broken, diminished, conflicted, and hopelessly confusing place that Saint Paul declared it is for all the earth’s creatures--not just humans.
Step-out moments involving large, ferocious animals like lions and polar bears are especially attractive because they speak directly to the profound impatience that all of us, deep down, feel at living in such a dog-eat-dog kind of world. Lions kill and eat other animals. Christian, we can assume, was not living as a vegetarian out there on the African plains before his adoptive human parents came to visit him, but spent his time chasing after gazelle and antelope. What we see in the clip is not this game-chasing predator, however, but a very different being: one who’s behavior hearkens back to the time that each and every last one the word’s countless myths and legends of paradise speaks about: a time when all creatures lived unburdened by strife and violence, by the need to eat and the danger of being eaten.
When a cat and a mouse, or a coyote and a rabbit, or a dolphin and a shark step out of the roles they ordinarily play in the earthly ecosystem, a deep part of us instantly travels back to that time. Yes, that part of us says, this is how it’s supposed to be.
Step-out moments are, by their nature, fleeting. That’s part of their magic. The graceful, gravity-free relationships that the players in these moments enjoy are not the kind that the world we currently live in can support for very long. But by happening at all, they remind us that this world, and the rules by which it operates, are not the only kind of world there ever was, or ever will be.
Not by a long shot.
Ptolemy Tompkins is a Senior Editor at Angels on Earth Magazine.
'The Step-Out Moment' by Ptolemy Tompkins is original content featured with permission of Angelsonearth.com. Copyright 2008 by Guideposts, Carmel, New York 10512. All rights reserved.
When ferocious animals become meek, they teach us a lesson on how animals and man can spiritually reconnect.
from Angels
There’s a certain kind of interaction that happens, sometimes, between animals and people–or between animals and other animals. These interactions can happen regularly or only once, and can last for a long time or for just a few seconds. They’re moments when the people and animals involved (especially the animals) step out of their regular, natural roles, and into other, more mysterious ones.
Whenever or wherever these step-out moments occur, they tend to strike a curiously strong emotional chord with people. The Internet is full of clips of such moments. As I write this, the one making the rounds features a lion named Christian. As a cub, we are told, Christian was purchased by two men who saw him for sale in a London department store and took pity on him. A pastor friend of theirs allowed Christian the run of the grounds of his church. Christian grew, and eventually the men decided that even with all that grass to run on, he would be better off in the wild. They returned him to Africa and set him free. A year later they returned to pay him a visit. The Internet clip shows what happened when they did. Christian sees his former owners, runs toward them, leaps up, and--in an extraordinarily affectionate and strangely human-like way--embraces them.
Step-out moments between animals and other animals (usually a predator and a prey species) are equally popular. A few months back, several people sent me a photo of a group of huskies playing on the Arctic ice with a polar bear.
Why are scenes like this so powerful?
I suspect it’s because they remind us that all creatures, both animals and humans, are not just the flesh-and-blood beings we see on the surface, but spiritual beings: beings who are, in many of the things they normally do down here on earth, playing roles.
Myths and legends from around the world speak of a time when the rules that make the physical world the strangely problematic place it is (rules such as the one that declares that a certain kind of creature must prey on another kind of creature in order to survive) did not yet exist. This was the time of Eden--the time before the world became the broken, diminished, conflicted, and hopelessly confusing place that Saint Paul declared it is for all the earth’s creatures--not just humans.
Step-out moments involving large, ferocious animals like lions and polar bears are especially attractive because they speak directly to the profound impatience that all of us, deep down, feel at living in such a dog-eat-dog kind of world. Lions kill and eat other animals. Christian, we can assume, was not living as a vegetarian out there on the African plains before his adoptive human parents came to visit him, but spent his time chasing after gazelle and antelope. What we see in the clip is not this game-chasing predator, however, but a very different being: one who’s behavior hearkens back to the time that each and every last one the word’s countless myths and legends of paradise speaks about: a time when all creatures lived unburdened by strife and violence, by the need to eat and the danger of being eaten.
When a cat and a mouse, or a coyote and a rabbit, or a dolphin and a shark step out of the roles they ordinarily play in the earthly ecosystem, a deep part of us instantly travels back to that time. Yes, that part of us says, this is how it’s supposed to be.
Step-out moments are, by their nature, fleeting. That’s part of their magic. The graceful, gravity-free relationships that the players in these moments enjoy are not the kind that the world we currently live in can support for very long. But by happening at all, they remind us that this world, and the rules by which it operates, are not the only kind of world there ever was, or ever will be.
Not by a long shot.
Ptolemy Tompkins is a Senior Editor at Angels on Earth Magazine.
'The Step-Out Moment' by Ptolemy Tompkins is original content featured with permission of Angelsonearth.com. Copyright 2008 by Guideposts, Carmel, New York 10512. All rights reserved.
Loving Muhammad (s) is ibaadah, part of our religion. He (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam) says, "one of would not attain true faith, until you love me more than you love your parents, your children and the whole world."
The ummah today loves Rasul(sallallahu `alayhi wasallam). If you ask any Muslim today, "Do you love the Prophet sallallahu `alayhi wasallam?", He'll say "yes". But the love cannot be very deep and sincere unless you really know the person. If you have shallow information about someone you can't really love them a lot. To love a person you need to know them more. And this is especially true with our Prophet Muhammad (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam), because the more you know him, the more you'd be impressed with his personality and the more you'd love him.
Even with the shallow information that the masses of the Muslims have today about him (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam), the Ummah still loves him. Imagine, if you get to know him even more, and learn his life in details. The whole condition of our Ummah will transform inshaAllah if we truly understand his Seerah. Because we will only truly hav deep love to Rasul (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam) unless we know him. The sahabah, the more they knew him, the closer they were to him, the more they love him.
Amr bin Al-aas (radiAllahu `anh) for example, he was one of the staunchest enemies of Rasul(saw) He was one of the top plotters against Islam, Amr bin Al-Aas (ra), later became Muslim and when he was passing away, Amr bin al-Aas(ra) started weeping, he was crying on his death bed. So his son, Abdullah bin Amr told him, "O my father,didn't Rasul(sallallahu `alayhi wasallam) give you the glad tidings? that the Prophet (saw) witnessed that you have Faith (Iman)? " `Amr turned around and responded, "My son, I have been through three stages in my life: at the first stage, the most despised man to me was Rasul (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam) and my desire was that if I could get a hold of him, I could get my hands on him and kill him. That was my wish and aspiration, to kill Rasul (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam), if I had died at that time, I'd have definitely been in the hell fire." He then said, "and then Allah put the love of Islam in my heart. and I went to Rasul (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam) and said to him, `Oh Muhammad, I want to become Muslim, extend your hand so that I can pledge allegiance to you ' Then Amr bin Al-Aas says, "Rasul sallallahu `alayhi wasallam extended his hand forward and I pulled my hand away. Rasul sallallahu `alayhi wasallam asked me, what's wrong? and I said, "I have a condition to make", Rasul sallallahu `alayhi wasallam asked his condition and he said, " My condition is that you pardon me (for all my previous crimes)." Rasul smiled and said, "O Amr, Don't you know that Islam erases everything before it, and hijrah erases everything before it, and hajj erases everything before it." Amr bin Al-aas said, so I became Muslim, and at that stage, Muhammad sallallahu `alayhi wasallam, who was my worst enemy became the most beloved person in the world. and I loved him so much and I respected him so much, I couldn't even get a full glimpse of his face. Whenever I would see him, I would stare downwards. And if you would ask me today to describe him to you, I couldn't...".
The ummah today loves Rasul(sallallahu `alayhi wasallam). If you ask any Muslim today, "Do you love the Prophet sallallahu `alayhi wasallam?", He'll say "yes". But the love cannot be very deep and sincere unless you really know the person. If you have shallow information about someone you can't really love them a lot. To love a person you need to know them more. And this is especially true with our Prophet Muhammad (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam), because the more you know him, the more you'd be impressed with his personality and the more you'd love him.
Even with the shallow information that the masses of the Muslims have today about him (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam), the Ummah still loves him. Imagine, if you get to know him even more, and learn his life in details. The whole condition of our Ummah will transform inshaAllah if we truly understand his Seerah. Because we will only truly hav deep love to Rasul (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam) unless we know him. The sahabah, the more they knew him, the closer they were to him, the more they love him.
Amr bin Al-aas (radiAllahu `anh) for example, he was one of the staunchest enemies of Rasul(saw) He was one of the top plotters against Islam, Amr bin Al-Aas (ra), later became Muslim and when he was passing away, Amr bin al-Aas(ra) started weeping, he was crying on his death bed. So his son, Abdullah bin Amr told him, "O my father,didn't Rasul(sallallahu `alayhi wasallam) give you the glad tidings? that the Prophet (saw) witnessed that you have Faith (Iman)? " `Amr turned around and responded, "My son, I have been through three stages in my life: at the first stage, the most despised man to me was Rasul (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam) and my desire was that if I could get a hold of him, I could get my hands on him and kill him. That was my wish and aspiration, to kill Rasul (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam), if I had died at that time, I'd have definitely been in the hell fire." He then said, "and then Allah put the love of Islam in my heart. and I went to Rasul (sallallahu `alayhi wasallam) and said to him, `Oh Muhammad, I want to become Muslim, extend your hand so that I can pledge allegiance to you ' Then Amr bin Al-Aas says, "Rasul sallallahu `alayhi wasallam extended his hand forward and I pulled my hand away. Rasul sallallahu `alayhi wasallam asked me, what's wrong? and I said, "I have a condition to make", Rasul sallallahu `alayhi wasallam asked his condition and he said, " My condition is that you pardon me (for all my previous crimes)." Rasul smiled and said, "O Amr, Don't you know that Islam erases everything before it, and hijrah erases everything before it, and hajj erases everything before it." Amr bin Al-aas said, so I became Muslim, and at that stage, Muhammad sallallahu `alayhi wasallam, who was my worst enemy became the most beloved person in the world. and I loved him so much and I respected him so much, I couldn't even get a full glimpse of his face. Whenever I would see him, I would stare downwards. And if you would ask me today to describe him to you, I couldn't...".
A LESSON.....we all must learn !
While a man was polishing his new car, his 4 yr old son picked stone & scratched lines on the side of the car.
In anger, the man took the child's hand & hit it many times, not realizing he was using a wrench.
At the hospital, the child lost all his fingers due to multiple fractures.
When the child saw his father.... with painful eyes he asked 'Dad when will my fingers grow back?'
Man was so hurt and speechless. He went back to car and kicked it a lot of times.
Devastated by his own actions...... sitting in front of that car he looked at the scratches, child had written 'LOVE YOU DAD'.
The next day that man committed suicide.
Anger and Love have no limits. Choose the latter to have a beautiful & lovely life....
Things are to be used and people are to be loved. But the problem in today's world is that, People are used and things are loved.
While a man was polishing his new car, his 4 yr old son picked stone & scratched lines on the side of the car.
In anger, the man took the child's hand & hit it many times, not realizing he was using a wrench.
At the hospital, the child lost all his fingers due to multiple fractures.
When the child saw his father.... with painful eyes he asked 'Dad when will my fingers grow back?'
Man was so hurt and speechless. He went back to car and kicked it a lot of times.
Devastated by his own actions...... sitting in front of that car he looked at the scratches, child had written 'LOVE YOU DAD'.
The next day that man committed suicide.
Anger and Love have no limits. Choose the latter to have a beautiful & lovely life....
Things are to be used and people are to be loved. But the problem in today's world is that, People are used and things are loved.
August 7, 2009, 9:25 pm
For the Time Being
By Norman Fischer
I recently returned from a week-long Zen meditation retreat on the Puget Sound. I am a Zen Buddhist priest, so a meditation retreat isn’t exotic to me: it’s what I do. But this one was particularly delightful. Sixty-five of us in silence together for a week, as great blue herons winged slowly overhead, swallows darted low to the ground before us as we walked quietly on the open grassy space between the meditation hall and the dining room. Rabbits nibbled on tall grasses in the thicket by the lake. The sky that far north is glorious this time of year, full of big bright clouds that can be spectacular at sunset — which doesn’t happen until around 10 p.m., the sky ablaze over the tops of the many islands thereabouts.
So yes, it was peaceful, it was quiet, it was beautiful, and nice to be away from all telephones and computers, all tasks and ordinary demands, all talking, all purposeful activity. The retreat participants are busy people like everyone else, and they appreciated the silence, the natural surroundings, and the chance to do nothing but experience their lives in the simplest possible way.
It is thoroughly normal to be so tentative about the time of our lives, or so asleep within it, that we miss it entirely.”
.As most people know, a Zen meditation retreat is not a vacation. Despite the silence and the beauty, despite the respite from the busyness, the experience can be grueling. The meditation practice is intense and relentless, the feeling in the hall rigorous and disciplined. We start pretty early in the morning and meditate all day long, into the late evening. It can be uncomfortable physically and emotionally. And some people find it hard not to talk at all for a week. So, what’s in it for them?
If you live long enough you will discover the great secret we all hate to admit: life is inherently tough. Difficult things happen. You lose your job or your money or your spouse. You get old, you get sick, you die You slog through your days beleaguered and reactive even when there are no noticeable disasters — a normal day has its many large and small annoyances, and the world, if you care to notice, and it is difficult not to, is burning.
Life is a challenge and in the welter of it all it is easy to forget who you are. Decades go by. Finally something happens. Or maybe nothing does. But one day you notice that you are suddenly lost, miles away from home, with no sense of direction. And you don’t know what to do.
The people at the retreat were not in crisis — at least no more than anyone else. I know most of them pretty well. They are people who have made the practice of Zen meditation a regular part of their daily routine, and come here not to forget about their troubles and pressures, but for the opposite reason: to meet them head on, to digest and clarify them. Why would they want to do this? Because it turns out that facing pain — not denial, not running in the opposite direction — is a practical necessity.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
During the week of the retreat I generally give a daily talk. This week I talked about time, using as my text the 13th century Zen Master Dogen’s famous essay “The Time Being,” a treatise on the religious dimension of time.
Dogen’s view is uncannily close to Heidegger’s: being is always and only being in time; time is nothing other than being. This turns out to be less a philosophical than an experiential fact: to really live is to accept that you live “for the time being,” and to fully enter that moment of time. Living is that, not building up an identity or a set of accomplishments or relationships, though of course we do that too. But primarily, fundamentally, to live is to embrace each moment as if it were the first, last, and all moments of time. Whether you like this moment or not is not the point: in fact liking it or not liking it, being willing or unwilling to accept it, depending on whether or not you like it, is to sit on the fence of your life, waiting to decide whether or not to live, and so never actually living. I find it impressive how thoroughly normal it is be so tentative about the time of our lives, or so asleep within it, that we miss it entirely. Most of us don’t know what it actually feels like to be alive. We know about our problems, our desires, our goals and accomplishments, but we don’t know much about our lives. It generally takes a huge event, the equivalent or a birth or a death, to wake up our sense of living this moment we are given – this moment that is just for the time being, because it passes even as it arrives. Meditation is feeling the feeling of being alive for the time being. Life is more poignant than we know.
Dogen writes, “For the time being the highest peak, for the time being the deepest ocean; for the time being a crazy mind, for the time being a Buddha body; for the time being a Zen Master, for the time being an ordinary person; for the time being earth and sky… Since there is nothing but this moment, ‘for the time being’ is all the time there is.”
For seven days that week I spoke about this in as many ways as I could think of, silly and sometimes not silly, and for seven days 65 silent people listened and took Dogen’s words to heart.
We want enjoyment, we want to avoid pain and discomfort. But it is impossible that things will always work out, impossible to avoid pain and discomfort. So to be happy, with a happiness that doesn’t blow away with every wind, we need to be able to make use of what happens to us — all of it — whether we find ourselves at the top of a mountain or at the bottom of the sea.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Norman Fischer is a senior Zen Buddhist priest and poet. He is the author, most recently, of “Sailing Home: Using the Wisdom of Homer’s Odyssey to Navigate Life’s Perils and Pitfalls,” and the new poetry collection “Questions/Places/Voices/Seasons.”
http://happydays.blogs.nytimes.com/2009 ... ?th&emc=th
For the Time Being
By Norman Fischer
I recently returned from a week-long Zen meditation retreat on the Puget Sound. I am a Zen Buddhist priest, so a meditation retreat isn’t exotic to me: it’s what I do. But this one was particularly delightful. Sixty-five of us in silence together for a week, as great blue herons winged slowly overhead, swallows darted low to the ground before us as we walked quietly on the open grassy space between the meditation hall and the dining room. Rabbits nibbled on tall grasses in the thicket by the lake. The sky that far north is glorious this time of year, full of big bright clouds that can be spectacular at sunset — which doesn’t happen until around 10 p.m., the sky ablaze over the tops of the many islands thereabouts.
So yes, it was peaceful, it was quiet, it was beautiful, and nice to be away from all telephones and computers, all tasks and ordinary demands, all talking, all purposeful activity. The retreat participants are busy people like everyone else, and they appreciated the silence, the natural surroundings, and the chance to do nothing but experience their lives in the simplest possible way.
It is thoroughly normal to be so tentative about the time of our lives, or so asleep within it, that we miss it entirely.”
.As most people know, a Zen meditation retreat is not a vacation. Despite the silence and the beauty, despite the respite from the busyness, the experience can be grueling. The meditation practice is intense and relentless, the feeling in the hall rigorous and disciplined. We start pretty early in the morning and meditate all day long, into the late evening. It can be uncomfortable physically and emotionally. And some people find it hard not to talk at all for a week. So, what’s in it for them?
If you live long enough you will discover the great secret we all hate to admit: life is inherently tough. Difficult things happen. You lose your job or your money or your spouse. You get old, you get sick, you die You slog through your days beleaguered and reactive even when there are no noticeable disasters — a normal day has its many large and small annoyances, and the world, if you care to notice, and it is difficult not to, is burning.
Life is a challenge and in the welter of it all it is easy to forget who you are. Decades go by. Finally something happens. Or maybe nothing does. But one day you notice that you are suddenly lost, miles away from home, with no sense of direction. And you don’t know what to do.
The people at the retreat were not in crisis — at least no more than anyone else. I know most of them pretty well. They are people who have made the practice of Zen meditation a regular part of their daily routine, and come here not to forget about their troubles and pressures, but for the opposite reason: to meet them head on, to digest and clarify them. Why would they want to do this? Because it turns out that facing pain — not denial, not running in the opposite direction — is a practical necessity.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
During the week of the retreat I generally give a daily talk. This week I talked about time, using as my text the 13th century Zen Master Dogen’s famous essay “The Time Being,” a treatise on the religious dimension of time.
Dogen’s view is uncannily close to Heidegger’s: being is always and only being in time; time is nothing other than being. This turns out to be less a philosophical than an experiential fact: to really live is to accept that you live “for the time being,” and to fully enter that moment of time. Living is that, not building up an identity or a set of accomplishments or relationships, though of course we do that too. But primarily, fundamentally, to live is to embrace each moment as if it were the first, last, and all moments of time. Whether you like this moment or not is not the point: in fact liking it or not liking it, being willing or unwilling to accept it, depending on whether or not you like it, is to sit on the fence of your life, waiting to decide whether or not to live, and so never actually living. I find it impressive how thoroughly normal it is be so tentative about the time of our lives, or so asleep within it, that we miss it entirely. Most of us don’t know what it actually feels like to be alive. We know about our problems, our desires, our goals and accomplishments, but we don’t know much about our lives. It generally takes a huge event, the equivalent or a birth or a death, to wake up our sense of living this moment we are given – this moment that is just for the time being, because it passes even as it arrives. Meditation is feeling the feeling of being alive for the time being. Life is more poignant than we know.
Dogen writes, “For the time being the highest peak, for the time being the deepest ocean; for the time being a crazy mind, for the time being a Buddha body; for the time being a Zen Master, for the time being an ordinary person; for the time being earth and sky… Since there is nothing but this moment, ‘for the time being’ is all the time there is.”
For seven days that week I spoke about this in as many ways as I could think of, silly and sometimes not silly, and for seven days 65 silent people listened and took Dogen’s words to heart.
We want enjoyment, we want to avoid pain and discomfort. But it is impossible that things will always work out, impossible to avoid pain and discomfort. So to be happy, with a happiness that doesn’t blow away with every wind, we need to be able to make use of what happens to us — all of it — whether we find ourselves at the top of a mountain or at the bottom of the sea.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Norman Fischer is a senior Zen Buddhist priest and poet. He is the author, most recently, of “Sailing Home: Using the Wisdom of Homer’s Odyssey to Navigate Life’s Perils and Pitfalls,” and the new poetry collection “Questions/Places/Voices/Seasons.”
http://happydays.blogs.nytimes.com/2009 ... ?th&emc=th
An Article Address by Azim Premji in the 'Shaping Young Minds Program' (SYMP) organized by AIMA in collaboration with the Bombay Management Association (BMA) in Mumbai on 'My Lessons in Life'.
I am very happy to be here with you. It is always wonderful to be with young people. As my hair turned from black, to salt and pepper and finally salt without the pepper, I have begun to realize the importance of youth.
At the same time, I have begun to truly appreciate some of the lessons I have learnt along the way. I hope you will find them useful when you plan your own career and life.
First
The first thing I have learnt is that we must always begin with our strengths. There is an imaginary story of a rabbit. The rabbit was enrolled in a rabbit school. Like all rabbits, it could hop very well but could not swim. At the end of the year, the rabbit got high marks in hopping but failed in swimming. The parents were concerned. They said, 'Forget about hopping. You are, anyway good at it. Concentrate on swimming.' They sent the rabbit for tuition in swimming. And guess what happened? The rabbit forgot how to hop! As for swimming, have you ever seen a rabbit swim?
While it is important for us to know what we are not good at, we must also cherish what is good in us. That is because it is only our strengths that can give us the energy to correct our weaknesses.
Second
The second lesson I have learnt is that a rupee earned is of far more value than five found.. My friend was sharing with me, the story of his eight year-old niece. She would always complain about the breakfast. The cook tried everything possible, but the child remained unhappy. Finally, my friend took the child to a supermarket and brought one of those ready-to-cook cereal packets. The child had to cut the packet and pour water in the dish. The child found the food delicious. The difference was that she had cooked it! In my own life, I have found that nothing gives as much satisfaction as earning our own rewards. In fact, what is gifted or inherited follows the old rule of 'come easy, go easy'. I guess we only know the value of what we have, if we have struggled to earn it.
Third
The third lesson I have learnt is, in Cricket, no one bats a hundred every time. Life has many challenges. You win some and lose some. You must enjoy winning. But do not let it go to the head. The moment it does, you are already on your way to failure. And if you do encounter failure along the way, treat it as an equally natural phenomenon. Don't beat yourself for it or any one else for that matter! Accept it, look at your own share in the problem, learn from it and move on. The important thing is, when you lose, do not 'lose the lesson’.
Fourth
The fourth lesson I have learnt, is the importance of humility. Sometimes, when you get so much in life, you really start wondering, whether you deserve all of it. We have so much to be grateful or. Our parents, our teachers and our seniors, have done so much for us, that we can never repay them. Many people focus on the shortcomings, because obviously, no one can be perfect. But it is important to first acknowledge, what we have received. Nothing in life is permanent, but when a relationship ends, rather than becoming bitter, we must learn to savor the memory, of the good things, while they lasted.
Fifth
The fifth lesson I learnt is, that we must always strive for Excellence. One way of achieving excellence, is by looking at those better than ourselves. Keep learning what they do differently. But excellence cannot be imposed from the outside. We must also feel the need from within. It must involve not only our mind, but also our heart and soul. Excellence is not an act, but a habit. I remember the inspiring lines of a poem, which says that your reach must always exceed your grasp. That is heaven on earth. Ultimately, your only competition is yourself.
Sixth
The sixth lesson I have learnt is, never give up in the face of adversity. It comes on you, suddenly without warning. Always keep in mind, that it is only the test of fire, that makes fine steel. A friend of mine shared this incident with me. His eight-year old daughter was struggling away at a jigsaw puzzle. She kept at it for hours but could not succeed. Finally, it went beyond her bedtime. My friend told her, "Look, why don’t you just give up? I don’t think you will complete it tonight. Look at it another day." The daughter looked with a strange look in her eyes, "But, dad, why should I give up? All the pieces are there! I have just got to put them together!" If we persevere long enough, we can put any problem into its perspective.
Seventh
The seventh lesson I have learnt is, that while you must be open to change, do not compromise on your values. Mahatma Gandhiji often said,” You must open the windows of your mind, but you must not be swept off your feet by the breeze." Values like honesty, integrity, consideration and humility have survived for generations. At the end of the day, it is values that define a person more than the achievements. Do not be tempted by short cuts. The short cut can make you lose your way and end up becoming the longest way to the destination.
Final
And the final lesson I learnt is, that we must have faith in our own ideas even if everyone tells us that we are wrong. There was a newspaper vendor who had a rude customer. Every morning, the Customer would walk by, refuse to return the greeting, grab the paper off the shelf and throw the money at the vendor. The vendor would pick up the money, smile politely and say, 'Thank you, Sir.' One day, the vendor's assistant asked him, "Why are you always so polite with him when he is so rude to you? Why don't you throw the newspaper at him when he comes back tomorrow?" The vendor smiled and replied, "He can't help being rude and I can’t help being polite. Why should I let his rude behavior dictate my politeness? I hope you achieve success in whatever way you define it and what gives you the maximum happiness in life. "Remember, those who win are those who believe they can." Prayer is not a spare wheel that you pull out when YOU ARE IN TROUBLE, It is a steering wheel that keeps you on the right path throughout your life.
I am very happy to be here with you. It is always wonderful to be with young people. As my hair turned from black, to salt and pepper and finally salt without the pepper, I have begun to realize the importance of youth.
At the same time, I have begun to truly appreciate some of the lessons I have learnt along the way. I hope you will find them useful when you plan your own career and life.
First
The first thing I have learnt is that we must always begin with our strengths. There is an imaginary story of a rabbit. The rabbit was enrolled in a rabbit school. Like all rabbits, it could hop very well but could not swim. At the end of the year, the rabbit got high marks in hopping but failed in swimming. The parents were concerned. They said, 'Forget about hopping. You are, anyway good at it. Concentrate on swimming.' They sent the rabbit for tuition in swimming. And guess what happened? The rabbit forgot how to hop! As for swimming, have you ever seen a rabbit swim?
While it is important for us to know what we are not good at, we must also cherish what is good in us. That is because it is only our strengths that can give us the energy to correct our weaknesses.
Second
The second lesson I have learnt is that a rupee earned is of far more value than five found.. My friend was sharing with me, the story of his eight year-old niece. She would always complain about the breakfast. The cook tried everything possible, but the child remained unhappy. Finally, my friend took the child to a supermarket and brought one of those ready-to-cook cereal packets. The child had to cut the packet and pour water in the dish. The child found the food delicious. The difference was that she had cooked it! In my own life, I have found that nothing gives as much satisfaction as earning our own rewards. In fact, what is gifted or inherited follows the old rule of 'come easy, go easy'. I guess we only know the value of what we have, if we have struggled to earn it.
Third
The third lesson I have learnt is, in Cricket, no one bats a hundred every time. Life has many challenges. You win some and lose some. You must enjoy winning. But do not let it go to the head. The moment it does, you are already on your way to failure. And if you do encounter failure along the way, treat it as an equally natural phenomenon. Don't beat yourself for it or any one else for that matter! Accept it, look at your own share in the problem, learn from it and move on. The important thing is, when you lose, do not 'lose the lesson’.
Fourth
The fourth lesson I have learnt, is the importance of humility. Sometimes, when you get so much in life, you really start wondering, whether you deserve all of it. We have so much to be grateful or. Our parents, our teachers and our seniors, have done so much for us, that we can never repay them. Many people focus on the shortcomings, because obviously, no one can be perfect. But it is important to first acknowledge, what we have received. Nothing in life is permanent, but when a relationship ends, rather than becoming bitter, we must learn to savor the memory, of the good things, while they lasted.
Fifth
The fifth lesson I learnt is, that we must always strive for Excellence. One way of achieving excellence, is by looking at those better than ourselves. Keep learning what they do differently. But excellence cannot be imposed from the outside. We must also feel the need from within. It must involve not only our mind, but also our heart and soul. Excellence is not an act, but a habit. I remember the inspiring lines of a poem, which says that your reach must always exceed your grasp. That is heaven on earth. Ultimately, your only competition is yourself.
Sixth
The sixth lesson I have learnt is, never give up in the face of adversity. It comes on you, suddenly without warning. Always keep in mind, that it is only the test of fire, that makes fine steel. A friend of mine shared this incident with me. His eight-year old daughter was struggling away at a jigsaw puzzle. She kept at it for hours but could not succeed. Finally, it went beyond her bedtime. My friend told her, "Look, why don’t you just give up? I don’t think you will complete it tonight. Look at it another day." The daughter looked with a strange look in her eyes, "But, dad, why should I give up? All the pieces are there! I have just got to put them together!" If we persevere long enough, we can put any problem into its perspective.
Seventh
The seventh lesson I have learnt is, that while you must be open to change, do not compromise on your values. Mahatma Gandhiji often said,” You must open the windows of your mind, but you must not be swept off your feet by the breeze." Values like honesty, integrity, consideration and humility have survived for generations. At the end of the day, it is values that define a person more than the achievements. Do not be tempted by short cuts. The short cut can make you lose your way and end up becoming the longest way to the destination.
Final
And the final lesson I learnt is, that we must have faith in our own ideas even if everyone tells us that we are wrong. There was a newspaper vendor who had a rude customer. Every morning, the Customer would walk by, refuse to return the greeting, grab the paper off the shelf and throw the money at the vendor. The vendor would pick up the money, smile politely and say, 'Thank you, Sir.' One day, the vendor's assistant asked him, "Why are you always so polite with him when he is so rude to you? Why don't you throw the newspaper at him when he comes back tomorrow?" The vendor smiled and replied, "He can't help being rude and I can’t help being polite. Why should I let his rude behavior dictate my politeness? I hope you achieve success in whatever way you define it and what gives you the maximum happiness in life. "Remember, those who win are those who believe they can." Prayer is not a spare wheel that you pull out when YOU ARE IN TROUBLE, It is a steering wheel that keeps you on the right path throughout your life.
Helping a Moth
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 the day a small opening appeared, he sat and watched the moth for several hours as the moth struggled to force its 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 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 God's 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 the moth of health.
Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our life. If God allowed us to go through our life without any obstacles, He would cripple us. We would not be as strong as what we could have been.
How true this is! How many times have we wanted to take the quick way out of struggles and difficulties, to take those scissors and snip off the remaining bits in an attempt to be free. We need to remember that our loving Father will never give us more than we can bear and through our trials and struggles we are strengthened as gold is refined in the fire. May we never let the things we can't have, or don't have, or shouldn't have, spoil our enjoyment of the things we do have and can have.
Don't focus on the things you DON'T have, enjoy each moment of everyday God has given you.
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 the day a small opening appeared, he sat and watched the moth for several hours as the moth struggled to force its 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 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 God's 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 the moth of health.
Sometimes struggles are exactly what we need in our life. If God allowed us to go through our life without any obstacles, He would cripple us. We would not be as strong as what we could have been.
How true this is! How many times have we wanted to take the quick way out of struggles and difficulties, to take those scissors and snip off the remaining bits in an attempt to be free. We need to remember that our loving Father will never give us more than we can bear and through our trials and struggles we are strengthened as gold is refined in the fire. May we never let the things we can't have, or don't have, or shouldn't have, spoil our enjoyment of the things we do have and can have.
Don't focus on the things you DON'T have, enjoy each moment of everyday God has given you.
Why walk when you can fly?
Live simply, love generously, care deeply, and speak kindly.
'The will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.
SOAR BEYOND YOUR FEARS !!!
Once there was a king who received a gift of two magnificent falcons from Arabia . They were peregrine falcons, the most beautiful birds he had ever seen. He gave the precious birds to his head falconer to be trained.
Months passed and one day the head falconer informed the king that though one of the falcons was flying majestically, soaring high in the sky, the other bird had not moved from its branch since the day it had arrived.
The king summoned healers and sorcerers from all the land to tend to the falcon, but no one could make the bird fly. He presented the task to the member of his court, but the next day, the king saw through the palace window that the bird had still not moved from its perch. Having tried everything else, the king thought to himself, "May be I need someone more familiar with the countryside to understand the nature of this problem." So he cried out to his court, "Go and get a farmer."
In the morning, the king was thrilled to see the falcon soaring high above the palace gardens. He said to his court, "Bring me the doer of this miracle."
The court quickly located the farmer, who came and stood before the king. The king asked him, "How did you make the falcon fly?"
With his head bowed, the farmer said to the king, " It was very easy, your highness. I simply cut the branch where the bird was sitting."
We are all made to fly -- to realize our incredible potential as human beings. But instead of doing that, we sit on our branches, clinging to the things that are familiar to us. The possibilities are endless, but for most of us, they remain undiscovered. We conform to the familiar, the comfortable, the mundane. So for the most part, our lives are mediocre instead of exciting, thrilling and fulfilling.
So let us learn to destroy the branch of fear we cling to and
free ourselves to the glory of flight.
-- From the Book "Why walk when you can fly"
-
Live simply, love generously, care deeply, and speak kindly.
'The will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.
SOAR BEYOND YOUR FEARS !!!
Once there was a king who received a gift of two magnificent falcons from Arabia . They were peregrine falcons, the most beautiful birds he had ever seen. He gave the precious birds to his head falconer to be trained.
Months passed and one day the head falconer informed the king that though one of the falcons was flying majestically, soaring high in the sky, the other bird had not moved from its branch since the day it had arrived.
The king summoned healers and sorcerers from all the land to tend to the falcon, but no one could make the bird fly. He presented the task to the member of his court, but the next day, the king saw through the palace window that the bird had still not moved from its perch. Having tried everything else, the king thought to himself, "May be I need someone more familiar with the countryside to understand the nature of this problem." So he cried out to his court, "Go and get a farmer."
In the morning, the king was thrilled to see the falcon soaring high above the palace gardens. He said to his court, "Bring me the doer of this miracle."
The court quickly located the farmer, who came and stood before the king. The king asked him, "How did you make the falcon fly?"
With his head bowed, the farmer said to the king, " It was very easy, your highness. I simply cut the branch where the bird was sitting."
We are all made to fly -- to realize our incredible potential as human beings. But instead of doing that, we sit on our branches, clinging to the things that are familiar to us. The possibilities are endless, but for most of us, they remain undiscovered. We conform to the familiar, the comfortable, the mundane. So for the most part, our lives are mediocre instead of exciting, thrilling and fulfilling.
So let us learn to destroy the branch of fear we cling to and
free ourselves to the glory of flight.
-- From the Book "Why walk when you can fly"
-
Death asked Life :
Why does everyone love you and hate me.
Life replied :
Because I am a beautiful Lie and you are a painful Truth
A Lovely Logic for a beautiful Life:
Never try to maintain relations in your life
Just try to maintain life in your relations
Always welcome the problems
Because problems give you dual advice
First, you know how to solve it
Second, you know how to avoid it in future
3 stages of Life:
Teen Age - Has time & energy - But no Money
Working Age - Has Money & Energy - But No Time
Old Age - Has Money & Time - But No Energy
We are very good Lawyers for our mistakes
Very good Judges for other's mistakes
World always say - Find good people and leave bad ones.
But I say, Find the good in people and ignore the bad in them
Because No one is born perfect
A fantastic sentence written on every Japanese bus stop.
Only buses will stop here - Not your time
So Keep walking towards your goal
Negative Thinkers focus on Problems
Positive thinkers focus on Solutions
Never hold your head high with pride or ego.
Even the winner of a gold medal gets his medal only when he bows his head down
Define TODAY
This is an Opportunity to Do A work better than Yesterday
African Saying:
If you want to walk quick, walk alone
If you want to walk far, walk together
Confident Quote:
I have not failed.
My success is just postponed.
Entire water in the ocean can never sink a ship
Unless it gets inside.
All the pressures of life can never hurt you unless you let them in.
Why does everyone love you and hate me.
Life replied :
Because I am a beautiful Lie and you are a painful Truth
A Lovely Logic for a beautiful Life:
Never try to maintain relations in your life
Just try to maintain life in your relations
Always welcome the problems
Because problems give you dual advice
First, you know how to solve it
Second, you know how to avoid it in future
3 stages of Life:
Teen Age - Has time & energy - But no Money
Working Age - Has Money & Energy - But No Time
Old Age - Has Money & Time - But No Energy
We are very good Lawyers for our mistakes
Very good Judges for other's mistakes
World always say - Find good people and leave bad ones.
But I say, Find the good in people and ignore the bad in them
Because No one is born perfect
A fantastic sentence written on every Japanese bus stop.
Only buses will stop here - Not your time
So Keep walking towards your goal
Negative Thinkers focus on Problems
Positive thinkers focus on Solutions
Never hold your head high with pride or ego.
Even the winner of a gold medal gets his medal only when he bows his head down
Define TODAY
This is an Opportunity to Do A work better than Yesterday
African Saying:
If you want to walk quick, walk alone
If you want to walk far, walk together
Confident Quote:
I have not failed.
My success is just postponed.
Entire water in the ocean can never sink a ship
Unless it gets inside.
All the pressures of life can never hurt you unless you let them in.
10 Behaviors of Genuine People
Steve Tobak
Contributor
Author and Managing Partner, Invisor Consulting
March 16, 2015
Whether you’re building a business, a network, or friendships, you always want to look for people who are genuine. After all, nobody wants to work or hang out with a phony. On the flipside, that goes for you, as well. Bet you never considered that.
In case you're wondering, genuine means actual, real, sincere, honest. Genuine people are more or less the same on the inside as their behavior is on the outside. Unfortunately, it's a tough quality to discern. The problem is that all human interactions are relative. They’re all a function of how we perceive each other through our own subjective lenses.
Being genuine is also a rare quality. In a world full of phony fads, media hype, virtual personas, positive thinkers, and personal brands – where everyone wants what they don’t have, nobody’s content to be who they are, and, more importantly, nobody’s willing to admit to any of that – it’s becoming more and more rare all the time.
To help you identify this rare breed -- in yourself, as well -- this is how genuine people behave.
They don’t seek attention. They don’t need constant reinforcement of their own ego. Where attention seekers have a hole that constantly needs to be filled, genuine people are already filled with self-confidence and self-awareness.
They’re not concerned with being liked. The need to be liked is born of insecurity and narcissism. It creates a need to manipulate your own and other’s emotions. Confident and authentic people are simply themselves. If you like them, fine. If not, that’s fine, too.
They can tell when others are full of it. Perhaps naïve folks can be easily fooled, but genuine people are not naïve. They’re grounded in reality and that gives them a baseline from which they can tell when things don’t add up. There’s a big difference.
They are comfortable in their own skin. In his late 70s, actor Leonard Nimoy said he was closer than ever to being as comfortable with himself as Spock appeared to be. Most of us struggle with that. As Henry David Thoreau observed, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”
They do what they say and say what they mean. They don’t tend to overreach or exaggerate. They meet their commitments. And they don’t parse their words or sugarcoat the truth. If you need to hear it, they’ll tell you … even if it’s tough for them to say and for you to hear.
They don’t need a lot of stuff. When you’re comfortable with whom you are, you don’t need a lot of external stuff to be happy. You know where to find happiness – inside yourself, your loved ones, and your work. You find happiness in the simple things.
They’re not thin-skinned. They don’t take themselves too seriously so they don’t take offense when none is intended.
They’re not overly modest or boastful. Since they’re confident of their strengths, they don’t need to brag about them. Likewise, they don’t exhibit false modesty. Humility is a positive trait but it’s even better to just be straightforward.
They’re consistent. You might describe genuine people as being weighty, solid, or substantial. Since they know themselves well and are in touch with their genuine emotions, they’re more or less predictable ... in a good way.
They practice what they preach. They’re not likely to advise people to do something they wouldn’t do themselves. After all, genuine people know they’re no better than anyone else so it’s not in their nature to be self-righteous.
All those seemingly different behaviors have the same thing at their core: self-awareness that’s consistent with reality. Genuine people see themselves as others would if they were objective observers. There’s not a lot of processing, manipulating, or controlling going on between what’s in their head and what people see and hear.
Once you get to know them, genuine people turn out to be more or less consistent with the way they initially hold themselves out to be. What you see is what you get. It's sad that, in today's world, such a positive quality is at risk of becoming endangered. Not only is it harder to find in others, it's becoming harder to be genuine ourselves.
Steve Tobak
Contributor
Author and Managing Partner, Invisor Consulting
March 16, 2015
Whether you’re building a business, a network, or friendships, you always want to look for people who are genuine. After all, nobody wants to work or hang out with a phony. On the flipside, that goes for you, as well. Bet you never considered that.
In case you're wondering, genuine means actual, real, sincere, honest. Genuine people are more or less the same on the inside as their behavior is on the outside. Unfortunately, it's a tough quality to discern. The problem is that all human interactions are relative. They’re all a function of how we perceive each other through our own subjective lenses.
Being genuine is also a rare quality. In a world full of phony fads, media hype, virtual personas, positive thinkers, and personal brands – where everyone wants what they don’t have, nobody’s content to be who they are, and, more importantly, nobody’s willing to admit to any of that – it’s becoming more and more rare all the time.
To help you identify this rare breed -- in yourself, as well -- this is how genuine people behave.
They don’t seek attention. They don’t need constant reinforcement of their own ego. Where attention seekers have a hole that constantly needs to be filled, genuine people are already filled with self-confidence and self-awareness.
They’re not concerned with being liked. The need to be liked is born of insecurity and narcissism. It creates a need to manipulate your own and other’s emotions. Confident and authentic people are simply themselves. If you like them, fine. If not, that’s fine, too.
They can tell when others are full of it. Perhaps naïve folks can be easily fooled, but genuine people are not naïve. They’re grounded in reality and that gives them a baseline from which they can tell when things don’t add up. There’s a big difference.
They are comfortable in their own skin. In his late 70s, actor Leonard Nimoy said he was closer than ever to being as comfortable with himself as Spock appeared to be. Most of us struggle with that. As Henry David Thoreau observed, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”
They do what they say and say what they mean. They don’t tend to overreach or exaggerate. They meet their commitments. And they don’t parse their words or sugarcoat the truth. If you need to hear it, they’ll tell you … even if it’s tough for them to say and for you to hear.
They don’t need a lot of stuff. When you’re comfortable with whom you are, you don’t need a lot of external stuff to be happy. You know where to find happiness – inside yourself, your loved ones, and your work. You find happiness in the simple things.
They’re not thin-skinned. They don’t take themselves too seriously so they don’t take offense when none is intended.
They’re not overly modest or boastful. Since they’re confident of their strengths, they don’t need to brag about them. Likewise, they don’t exhibit false modesty. Humility is a positive trait but it’s even better to just be straightforward.
They’re consistent. You might describe genuine people as being weighty, solid, or substantial. Since they know themselves well and are in touch with their genuine emotions, they’re more or less predictable ... in a good way.
They practice what they preach. They’re not likely to advise people to do something they wouldn’t do themselves. After all, genuine people know they’re no better than anyone else so it’s not in their nature to be self-righteous.
All those seemingly different behaviors have the same thing at their core: self-awareness that’s consistent with reality. Genuine people see themselves as others would if they were objective observers. There’s not a lot of processing, manipulating, or controlling going on between what’s in their head and what people see and hear.
Once you get to know them, genuine people turn out to be more or less consistent with the way they initially hold themselves out to be. What you see is what you get. It's sad that, in today's world, such a positive quality is at risk of becoming endangered. Not only is it harder to find in others, it's becoming harder to be genuine ourselves.
California Dreaming
Technology's thrill is no more than an ephemeral distraction from the unchanging puzzles of life in any age.
LOS ANGELES — To question change in the state whose companies have transformed the world by networking it may seem like California dreaming. Lives last long enough now for the reality of change to be manifest. The world is not what it was when much of existence drifted by in a disconnected state and productivity had not taken a 24/7 hold.
Undistracted immersion in place and mood was easier back in the 20th century. That could make for great journalism. On the other hand, communication was harder. That could make filing the journalism a nightmare.
On the one hand, on the other: That’s life in any century. It’s lived in the gray zone of uncertainty. Delusional certainty tends to be the domain of those with ambitions to lead the muddled crowd. Politics depends on the promise of change. That’s its elixir.
But I’ve been wondering. The more things change, say the French, the more they stay the same. Or as a similar idea is put in “The Leopard,” one of the greatest of Italian novels: “If we want things to stay as they are, things will have to change.”
They do change, sometimes with swift brutality. The Bolshevik revolution in Russia swept everything away — yet here is Vladimir Putin playing czar. Uprisings come and go but Egypt harkens for its pharaoh. We dreamed of paradise, lamented the leading East German protester of 1989 who would become Germany’s president, and woke up in North Rhine-Westphalia.
Scourges, from the plague to polio, are vanquished; others arise. The Medicis grow rich, become patrons of the arts, take a stab at just rule, before their inevitable fall; to be replaced in Florence-on-the-Pacific by the likes of Brin and Page and Omidyar and Thiel, who want to invest part of their dotcom fortunes in a more enlightened, healthier humanity.
The eternal puzzles of birth and love, death and beauty, injustice and poverty, persist. The search for happiness, and meaning, goes on. The same feelings exist in changed circumstances. Technology’s thrill may be no more than an ephemeral distraction from the immutable human condition, which constitutes the realm of art.
The catalyst to these musings was something I saw in Los Angeles, probably the last place I expected to see it because I think of the city as hot-wired to the new and inclined to the brittle. It was a bronze statue from the third century B.C. of a seated boxer, a life-size rendering of a bearded man who, to judge from the bruise on his cheek and his broken nose, has just emerged from a fight, or perhaps a series of fights. His body is strong, suggestive of the heroic, but his expression is excruciatingly human, full of stoicism and questioning.
Here I am, the boxer seems to say, and such is life: an unpredictable struggle for survival in which there is no escape from hard work and wisdom must be earned the hard way. You see, he murmurs across 2,300 years, I have done what I had to do and this is the state I find myself in: tired, battered but unflinching and alive.
The statue, found in Rome in 1885, is on display at the J. Paul Getty Museum, part of an astonishing exhibition called “Power and Pathos: Bronze Sculpture of the Hellenistic World.” Astonishing for its beauty but perhaps above all for the range of expression evident in the statuary. Gods of imposing power are depicted, yet it is the emotion of human subjects in all its variety — from serenity to suffering, from elation to exhaustion — that is most unforgettable because all those emotions are recognizable as, well, contemporary.
The boxer made me think of one of my favorite paintings, Velázquez’s portrait of Pope Innocent X in Rome’s Doria Pamphilj Gallery, not in any particular detail but in the evocation of someone who has lived life to the full: the ruddy and weathered face of the pontiff, the shrewd eyes, the expression that says he sees through the pomp of his position and is aware that life, even at the summit of power, may be viewed as a cruel joke. “Troppo vero!” — “Too true!” — the pope is said to have exclaimed on seeing it.
My late uncle, Bert Cohen, was in Italy during World War II. On July 21, 1944, he reached Monte Cassino and wrote in his war diary: “Poor Cassino, wreck and desolation unbelievable, roads smashed and pitted, mines, booby traps and graves everywhere. Huge shell holes, craters filled with stagnant slime, smashed buildings, hardly outlines remaining, a silent sight of ghosts and shadows. Pictures should be taken of this monument to mankind’s worst moments and circulated through every school room in the world.”
Along with pictures of the Hellenistic boxer and the Italian pope to illustrate the illusions of power, the bruises of life, the persistence of hope and the limits of change. Relax — we’ve been here before.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/21/opini ... 05309&_r=0
Technology's thrill is no more than an ephemeral distraction from the unchanging puzzles of life in any age.
LOS ANGELES — To question change in the state whose companies have transformed the world by networking it may seem like California dreaming. Lives last long enough now for the reality of change to be manifest. The world is not what it was when much of existence drifted by in a disconnected state and productivity had not taken a 24/7 hold.
Undistracted immersion in place and mood was easier back in the 20th century. That could make for great journalism. On the other hand, communication was harder. That could make filing the journalism a nightmare.
On the one hand, on the other: That’s life in any century. It’s lived in the gray zone of uncertainty. Delusional certainty tends to be the domain of those with ambitions to lead the muddled crowd. Politics depends on the promise of change. That’s its elixir.
But I’ve been wondering. The more things change, say the French, the more they stay the same. Or as a similar idea is put in “The Leopard,” one of the greatest of Italian novels: “If we want things to stay as they are, things will have to change.”
They do change, sometimes with swift brutality. The Bolshevik revolution in Russia swept everything away — yet here is Vladimir Putin playing czar. Uprisings come and go but Egypt harkens for its pharaoh. We dreamed of paradise, lamented the leading East German protester of 1989 who would become Germany’s president, and woke up in North Rhine-Westphalia.
Scourges, from the plague to polio, are vanquished; others arise. The Medicis grow rich, become patrons of the arts, take a stab at just rule, before their inevitable fall; to be replaced in Florence-on-the-Pacific by the likes of Brin and Page and Omidyar and Thiel, who want to invest part of their dotcom fortunes in a more enlightened, healthier humanity.
The eternal puzzles of birth and love, death and beauty, injustice and poverty, persist. The search for happiness, and meaning, goes on. The same feelings exist in changed circumstances. Technology’s thrill may be no more than an ephemeral distraction from the immutable human condition, which constitutes the realm of art.
The catalyst to these musings was something I saw in Los Angeles, probably the last place I expected to see it because I think of the city as hot-wired to the new and inclined to the brittle. It was a bronze statue from the third century B.C. of a seated boxer, a life-size rendering of a bearded man who, to judge from the bruise on his cheek and his broken nose, has just emerged from a fight, or perhaps a series of fights. His body is strong, suggestive of the heroic, but his expression is excruciatingly human, full of stoicism and questioning.
Here I am, the boxer seems to say, and such is life: an unpredictable struggle for survival in which there is no escape from hard work and wisdom must be earned the hard way. You see, he murmurs across 2,300 years, I have done what I had to do and this is the state I find myself in: tired, battered but unflinching and alive.
The statue, found in Rome in 1885, is on display at the J. Paul Getty Museum, part of an astonishing exhibition called “Power and Pathos: Bronze Sculpture of the Hellenistic World.” Astonishing for its beauty but perhaps above all for the range of expression evident in the statuary. Gods of imposing power are depicted, yet it is the emotion of human subjects in all its variety — from serenity to suffering, from elation to exhaustion — that is most unforgettable because all those emotions are recognizable as, well, contemporary.
The boxer made me think of one of my favorite paintings, Velázquez’s portrait of Pope Innocent X in Rome’s Doria Pamphilj Gallery, not in any particular detail but in the evocation of someone who has lived life to the full: the ruddy and weathered face of the pontiff, the shrewd eyes, the expression that says he sees through the pomp of his position and is aware that life, even at the summit of power, may be viewed as a cruel joke. “Troppo vero!” — “Too true!” — the pope is said to have exclaimed on seeing it.
My late uncle, Bert Cohen, was in Italy during World War II. On July 21, 1944, he reached Monte Cassino and wrote in his war diary: “Poor Cassino, wreck and desolation unbelievable, roads smashed and pitted, mines, booby traps and graves everywhere. Huge shell holes, craters filled with stagnant slime, smashed buildings, hardly outlines remaining, a silent sight of ghosts and shadows. Pictures should be taken of this monument to mankind’s worst moments and circulated through every school room in the world.”
Along with pictures of the Hellenistic boxer and the Italian pope to illustrate the illusions of power, the bruises of life, the persistence of hope and the limits of change. Relax — we’ve been here before.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/21/opini ... 05309&_r=0
The Big Decisions
Let’s say you had the chance to become a vampire. With one magical bite you would gain immortality, superhuman strength and a life of glamorous intensity. Your friends who have undergone the transformation say the experience is incredible. They drink animal blood, not human blood, and say everything about their new existence provides them with fun, companionship and meaning.
Would you do it? Would you consent to receive the life-altering bite, even knowing that once changed you could never go back?
The difficulty of the choice is that you’d have to use your human self and preferences to try to guess whether you’d enjoy having a vampire self and preferences. Becoming a vampire is transformational. You would literally become a different self. How can you possibly know what it would feel like to be this different version of you or whether you would like it?
In her book “Transformative Experience,” L. A. Paul, a philosophy professor at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, says life is filled with decisions that are a bit like this. Life is filled with forks in the road in which you end up changing who you are and what you want.
People who have a child suddenly become different. Joining the military is another transformational experience. So are marrying, changing careers, immigrating, switching religions.
In each of these cases the current you is trying to make an important decision, without having the chance to know what it will feel like to be the future you.
Paul’s point is that we’re fundamentally ignorant about many of the biggest choices of our lives and that it’s not possible to make purely rational decisions. “You shouldn’t fool yourself,” she writes. “You have no idea what you are getting into.”
The decision to have a child is the purest version of this choice. On average, people who have a child suffer a loss of reported well-being. They’re more exhausted and report lower life satisfaction. And yet few parents can imagine going back and being their old pre-parental selves. Parents are like self-fulfilled vampires. Their rich new lives would have seemed incomprehensible to their old childless selves.
So how do you make transformational decisions? You have to ask the right questions, Paul argues. Don’t ask, Will I like parenting? You can’t know. Instead, acknowledge that you, like all people, are born with an intense desire to know. Ask, Do I have a profound desire to discover what it would be like to be this new me, to experience this new mode of living?
As she puts it, “The best response to this situation is to choose based on whether we want to discover who we’ll become.”
Live life as a series of revelations.
Personally, I think Paul’s description of the problem is ingenious but her solution is incomplete. Would you really trust yourself to raise and nurture a child simply on the basis of self-revelation? Curiosity is too thin, relativistic and ephemeral.
The most reliable decision-making guides are more “primitive.” We’re historical creatures. We have inherited certain life scripts from evolution and culture, and there’s often a lot of wisdom in following those life scripts. We’re social creatures. Often we undertake big transformational challenges not because it fulfills our desires, but because it is good for our kind.
We’re mystical creatures. Often when people make a transformational choice they feel it less as a choice and more as a calling. They feel there was something that destined them to be with this spouse or in that vocation.
Most important, we’re moral creatures. When faced with a transformational choice the weakest question may be, What do I desire? Our desires change all the time. The strongest questions may be: Which path will make me a better person? Will joining the military give me more courage? Will becoming a parent make me more capable of selfless love?
Our moral intuitions are more durable than our desires, based on a universal standard of right and wrong. The person who shoots for virtue will more reliably be happy with her new self, and will at least have a nice quality to help her cope with whatever comes.
Which brings us to the core social point. These days we think of a lot of decisions as if they were shopping choices. When we’re shopping for something, we act as autonomous creatures who are looking for the product that will produce the most pleasure or utility. But choosing to have a child or selecting a spouse, faith or life course is not like that. It’s probably safer to ask “What do I admire?” than “What do I want?”
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/25/opini ... pe=article
Let’s say you had the chance to become a vampire. With one magical bite you would gain immortality, superhuman strength and a life of glamorous intensity. Your friends who have undergone the transformation say the experience is incredible. They drink animal blood, not human blood, and say everything about their new existence provides them with fun, companionship and meaning.
Would you do it? Would you consent to receive the life-altering bite, even knowing that once changed you could never go back?
The difficulty of the choice is that you’d have to use your human self and preferences to try to guess whether you’d enjoy having a vampire self and preferences. Becoming a vampire is transformational. You would literally become a different self. How can you possibly know what it would feel like to be this different version of you or whether you would like it?
In her book “Transformative Experience,” L. A. Paul, a philosophy professor at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, says life is filled with decisions that are a bit like this. Life is filled with forks in the road in which you end up changing who you are and what you want.
People who have a child suddenly become different. Joining the military is another transformational experience. So are marrying, changing careers, immigrating, switching religions.
In each of these cases the current you is trying to make an important decision, without having the chance to know what it will feel like to be the future you.
Paul’s point is that we’re fundamentally ignorant about many of the biggest choices of our lives and that it’s not possible to make purely rational decisions. “You shouldn’t fool yourself,” she writes. “You have no idea what you are getting into.”
The decision to have a child is the purest version of this choice. On average, people who have a child suffer a loss of reported well-being. They’re more exhausted and report lower life satisfaction. And yet few parents can imagine going back and being their old pre-parental selves. Parents are like self-fulfilled vampires. Their rich new lives would have seemed incomprehensible to their old childless selves.
So how do you make transformational decisions? You have to ask the right questions, Paul argues. Don’t ask, Will I like parenting? You can’t know. Instead, acknowledge that you, like all people, are born with an intense desire to know. Ask, Do I have a profound desire to discover what it would be like to be this new me, to experience this new mode of living?
As she puts it, “The best response to this situation is to choose based on whether we want to discover who we’ll become.”
Live life as a series of revelations.
Personally, I think Paul’s description of the problem is ingenious but her solution is incomplete. Would you really trust yourself to raise and nurture a child simply on the basis of self-revelation? Curiosity is too thin, relativistic and ephemeral.
The most reliable decision-making guides are more “primitive.” We’re historical creatures. We have inherited certain life scripts from evolution and culture, and there’s often a lot of wisdom in following those life scripts. We’re social creatures. Often we undertake big transformational challenges not because it fulfills our desires, but because it is good for our kind.
We’re mystical creatures. Often when people make a transformational choice they feel it less as a choice and more as a calling. They feel there was something that destined them to be with this spouse or in that vocation.
Most important, we’re moral creatures. When faced with a transformational choice the weakest question may be, What do I desire? Our desires change all the time. The strongest questions may be: Which path will make me a better person? Will joining the military give me more courage? Will becoming a parent make me more capable of selfless love?
Our moral intuitions are more durable than our desires, based on a universal standard of right and wrong. The person who shoots for virtue will more reliably be happy with her new self, and will at least have a nice quality to help her cope with whatever comes.
Which brings us to the core social point. These days we think of a lot of decisions as if they were shopping choices. When we’re shopping for something, we act as autonomous creatures who are looking for the product that will produce the most pleasure or utility. But choosing to have a child or selecting a spouse, faith or life course is not like that. It’s probably safer to ask “What do I admire?” than “What do I want?”
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/25/opini ... pe=article
Was It Cancer? Getting the Diagnosis
Sydney, Australia — I OFTEN wondered what it would be like to have a cancer growing inside your body. To suddenly discover you are carrying something that is eating you away, growing in an ugly, consuming mass in or around your bones or organs. To be blithely stepping through life, unaware that your insides are betraying you.
I didn’t expect to find out, though, at least not for decades. I have always been healthy and strong; I regularly do hot yoga and swim a two-kilometer stretch in a bay teeming with fish near my home in Sydney, all while caring for my two little kids, hosting a TV show, writing columns and making the final edits on the book I am writing.
But now I know: It felt as if I was carrying a baby. The enormous tumors that silently grew inside me suddenly ballooned without warning one weekend, pushing my belly out into an arc.
It was so odd; in the months beforehand I had felt bloated, and my clothes had grown snug, but my friends laughed and gently pointed to the vats of chocolate I consume when facing deadlines. I was exhausted but my doctor put it down to my workload.
Then, one Saturday in June, I was struck with agonizing pain and ended up in the hospital.
When I walked it felt eerily similar to being pregnant — organs cramped, squashed up against one another. When I wasn’t concentrating, I was sure I’d feel a kick and my hands would creep to my belly, as though protecting an infant. Then I would remember.
It was not a baby. It was a mass the size of a basketball, living in between my belly button and my spine. Soon I was almost waddling with it. A dark, murderous infant.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be operated on or exorcised.
The suspected diagnosis was bad; advanced ovarian cancer. “I have to be frank with you, Julia,” my surgeon said when I asked if there was a chance it was benign. “All the signs are that this is very serious.” I spent two weeks waiting for surgery, not knowing if I would live to the end of the year.
Your world narrows to a slit when facing a diagnosis like that; suddenly very little matters. I told my family and some close friends, then went into lockdown.
In the early hours of the morning I woke gripped with terror and quietly contemplated the prospect of death before I rose to get my son and daughter ready for school. I was buttering sandwiches for their lunches when my surgeon called to tell me it looked as though it had spread to my liver. I bit my lip, sliced the sandwiches in half, and held my children’s little hands tightly as we walked down the hill to the local red brick primary school.
In the days before the operation, I turned off my phone and shut my computer. I prayed so hard I grew unnaturally calm. I felt like a flower shutting in on itself, bracing, preparing for the night, closing to a quiet stillness.
It’s a peculiar, lonely kind of impotence, a cancer diagnosis. If you ran a thousand miles, aced a billion exams, hit a dozen home runs, nothing could reverse or erase the fact of cancer.
The operation lasted five hours. The mass was fully removed, but it was far more complicated than anyone expected. I was in intensive care for eight days, in a tangle of wires, beeping machines, with drains in my lungs and my liver. I was so drugged I was hallucinating — Donna Summer was doing water aerobics in the hall outside, Angelina Jolie kept trying to call me (I screened her), a reggae musician sat mute on the end of my bed, my older brother had three heads, one of my feet kept catching fire, and it rained periodically around my bed.
When I closed my eyes, the room was still vivid to me, but the nurses were all clad in “Downton Abbey” garb, and the walls draped with velvet. I grew intensely attached to the nurses, grateful for their kindness, and lay wondering if there was a more important job.
I also grew attached to my surgeons, who were pleased to discover that the ovarian tumors — one on each ovary — were not malignant; I didn’t have ovarian cancer, but I did have another, rare form of cancer, which can recur but is nonaggressive and has a much higher survival rate.
For me, one of the most excruciating parts of going through something like cancer is the need to talk to strangers about your internal organs. It’s not just the abandonment of dignity in intensive care, where gowns flap open, strangers shower you and interns ask hourly about bowel movements, but that even outside the hospital, the prospect of fielding constant questions from acquaintances about innards, and mortality, can be agonizing.
I have never felt so shy in my life. But many others have walked this path.
And I am emboldened by the fact that I am slowly growing stronger. I am walking upright again and waking without scalding pain. I am now allowed to drive, and am preparing to return to work.
My prognosis is good, but like others, I will need to live with the fear of return. This week, my blood tests came back clear of cancer. But my scar runs the length of my torso; I feel permanently altered. It will feel strange returning to normal life.
When I came out of the hospital, everyone suddenly seemed consumed with irrelevant, foolish, temporal worries. Reading the fine print of your mortality is a great sifter of rubbish. I frowned at the complaints posted on social media when I was recovering — people who had the flu, were annoyed by politicians, burdened by work, or who were juggling jobs and children — and wanted to scream: BUT YOU ARE ALIVE!!!! Alive! Each day is a glory, especially if upright and able to move with ease, without pain.
I am still grappling with what all of this means. But in this short time, three age-old truths became even more apparent to me.
First, stillness and faith can give you extraordinary strength. Commotion drains.
The “brave” warrior talk that so often surrounds cancer rang false to me. I didn’t want war, tumult or battle. Instead, I just prayed to God. And I think what I found is much like what Greek philosophers called ataraxia, a suspended kind of calm in which you can find a surprising strength.
Second, you may find yourself trying to comfort panicked people around you. But those who rally and come to mop your brow when you look like a ghost, try to make you laugh, distract you with silly stories, cook for you — or even fly for 20 hours just to hug you — are companions of the highest order. Your family is everything.
Third, we should not have to retreat to the woods like Henry David Thoreau to “live deliberately.” It would be impossible and frankly exhausting to live each day as if it were your last. But there’s something about writing a will that has small children as beneficiaries that makes the world stop.
My doctor asked me a few days ago how I became so calm before the surgery. I told her: I prayed, I locked out negativity and drama and drew my family and tribe — all big-hearted, pragmatic people — near. I tried to live deliberately.
“Can I just say,” she said, “you should do that for the rest of your life.”
Julia Baird is a journalist and contributing opinion writer who is working on a biography of Queen Victoria.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/02/opini ... pe=article
Sydney, Australia — I OFTEN wondered what it would be like to have a cancer growing inside your body. To suddenly discover you are carrying something that is eating you away, growing in an ugly, consuming mass in or around your bones or organs. To be blithely stepping through life, unaware that your insides are betraying you.
I didn’t expect to find out, though, at least not for decades. I have always been healthy and strong; I regularly do hot yoga and swim a two-kilometer stretch in a bay teeming with fish near my home in Sydney, all while caring for my two little kids, hosting a TV show, writing columns and making the final edits on the book I am writing.
But now I know: It felt as if I was carrying a baby. The enormous tumors that silently grew inside me suddenly ballooned without warning one weekend, pushing my belly out into an arc.
It was so odd; in the months beforehand I had felt bloated, and my clothes had grown snug, but my friends laughed and gently pointed to the vats of chocolate I consume when facing deadlines. I was exhausted but my doctor put it down to my workload.
Then, one Saturday in June, I was struck with agonizing pain and ended up in the hospital.
When I walked it felt eerily similar to being pregnant — organs cramped, squashed up against one another. When I wasn’t concentrating, I was sure I’d feel a kick and my hands would creep to my belly, as though protecting an infant. Then I would remember.
It was not a baby. It was a mass the size of a basketball, living in between my belly button and my spine. Soon I was almost waddling with it. A dark, murderous infant.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be operated on or exorcised.
The suspected diagnosis was bad; advanced ovarian cancer. “I have to be frank with you, Julia,” my surgeon said when I asked if there was a chance it was benign. “All the signs are that this is very serious.” I spent two weeks waiting for surgery, not knowing if I would live to the end of the year.
Your world narrows to a slit when facing a diagnosis like that; suddenly very little matters. I told my family and some close friends, then went into lockdown.
In the early hours of the morning I woke gripped with terror and quietly contemplated the prospect of death before I rose to get my son and daughter ready for school. I was buttering sandwiches for their lunches when my surgeon called to tell me it looked as though it had spread to my liver. I bit my lip, sliced the sandwiches in half, and held my children’s little hands tightly as we walked down the hill to the local red brick primary school.
In the days before the operation, I turned off my phone and shut my computer. I prayed so hard I grew unnaturally calm. I felt like a flower shutting in on itself, bracing, preparing for the night, closing to a quiet stillness.
It’s a peculiar, lonely kind of impotence, a cancer diagnosis. If you ran a thousand miles, aced a billion exams, hit a dozen home runs, nothing could reverse or erase the fact of cancer.
The operation lasted five hours. The mass was fully removed, but it was far more complicated than anyone expected. I was in intensive care for eight days, in a tangle of wires, beeping machines, with drains in my lungs and my liver. I was so drugged I was hallucinating — Donna Summer was doing water aerobics in the hall outside, Angelina Jolie kept trying to call me (I screened her), a reggae musician sat mute on the end of my bed, my older brother had three heads, one of my feet kept catching fire, and it rained periodically around my bed.
When I closed my eyes, the room was still vivid to me, but the nurses were all clad in “Downton Abbey” garb, and the walls draped with velvet. I grew intensely attached to the nurses, grateful for their kindness, and lay wondering if there was a more important job.
I also grew attached to my surgeons, who were pleased to discover that the ovarian tumors — one on each ovary — were not malignant; I didn’t have ovarian cancer, but I did have another, rare form of cancer, which can recur but is nonaggressive and has a much higher survival rate.
For me, one of the most excruciating parts of going through something like cancer is the need to talk to strangers about your internal organs. It’s not just the abandonment of dignity in intensive care, where gowns flap open, strangers shower you and interns ask hourly about bowel movements, but that even outside the hospital, the prospect of fielding constant questions from acquaintances about innards, and mortality, can be agonizing.
I have never felt so shy in my life. But many others have walked this path.
And I am emboldened by the fact that I am slowly growing stronger. I am walking upright again and waking without scalding pain. I am now allowed to drive, and am preparing to return to work.
My prognosis is good, but like others, I will need to live with the fear of return. This week, my blood tests came back clear of cancer. But my scar runs the length of my torso; I feel permanently altered. It will feel strange returning to normal life.
When I came out of the hospital, everyone suddenly seemed consumed with irrelevant, foolish, temporal worries. Reading the fine print of your mortality is a great sifter of rubbish. I frowned at the complaints posted on social media when I was recovering — people who had the flu, were annoyed by politicians, burdened by work, or who were juggling jobs and children — and wanted to scream: BUT YOU ARE ALIVE!!!! Alive! Each day is a glory, especially if upright and able to move with ease, without pain.
I am still grappling with what all of this means. But in this short time, three age-old truths became even more apparent to me.
First, stillness and faith can give you extraordinary strength. Commotion drains.
The “brave” warrior talk that so often surrounds cancer rang false to me. I didn’t want war, tumult or battle. Instead, I just prayed to God. And I think what I found is much like what Greek philosophers called ataraxia, a suspended kind of calm in which you can find a surprising strength.
Second, you may find yourself trying to comfort panicked people around you. But those who rally and come to mop your brow when you look like a ghost, try to make you laugh, distract you with silly stories, cook for you — or even fly for 20 hours just to hug you — are companions of the highest order. Your family is everything.
Third, we should not have to retreat to the woods like Henry David Thoreau to “live deliberately.” It would be impossible and frankly exhausting to live each day as if it were your last. But there’s something about writing a will that has small children as beneficiaries that makes the world stop.
My doctor asked me a few days ago how I became so calm before the surgery. I told her: I prayed, I locked out negativity and drama and drew my family and tribe — all big-hearted, pragmatic people — near. I tried to live deliberately.
“Can I just say,” she said, “you should do that for the rest of your life.”
Julia Baird is a journalist and contributing opinion writer who is working on a biography of Queen Victoria.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/02/opini ... pe=article
Battered Greece and Its Refugee Lesson
MOLYVOS, Greece — Here’s a rough guide to the modern world: More efficiency, less humanity. Technology is principally at the service of productivity. Acts of irrational grace are not its thing. They have no algorithm.
Greece has made me think about everything statistics don’t tell you. No European country has been as battered in recent years. No European country has responded with as much consistent humanity to the refugee crisis.
Greater prosperity equals diminishing generosity. Device distraction equals inability to give of your time. Modernity fosters the transactional relationship over the human relationship. The rules are not absolute, but they are useful indicators.
More than 200,000 refugees, mainly from Syria, have arrived in a Greece on the brink this year, almost half of them coming ashore in the island of Lesbos, which lies just six miles from Turkey. They have entered a country with a quarter of its population unemployed. They have found themselves in a state whose per-capita income has fallen by nearly 23 percent since the crisis began, with a tenuous banking system and unstable politics. Greece could serve as a textbook example of a nation with potential for violence against a massive influx of outsiders.
In general, the refugees have been well received. There have been clashes, including on Lesbos, but almost none of the miserable bigotry, petty calculation, schoolyard petulance and amnesiac small-mindedness emanating from European Union countries further north, particularly Hungary.
For several hours, I crisscrossed Lesbos with a driver, Michalis Papagrigoriou, who had volunteered to help transport refugees from Molyvos in the north of the island to the port in Mytilene, about 45 miles away. His bus, normally used to ferry pale North European tourists in search of Mediterranean sun, had been leased by the International Rescue Committee (I.R.C.) to help the more than 2,000 refugees arriving in inflatable rafts every day.
Papagrigoriou, besieged by calls to take his bus here and there, was in an irrepressible mood. Around each switchback on the hills between Kalloni in the middle of the island and Molyvos in the north, refugees came into view: children, old men, pregnant women trudging through pine woods.
They raised their arms. They pleaded. They lay slumped against backpacks. Discarded water bottles traced their path. Papagrigoriou, with an appointment to pick up a busload in Molyvos, could not help immediately but each group prompted an impassioned soliloquy about injustice and shared humanity. On the way back, although full, he would bend the rules to squeeze in an extra woman and child. He would also accept a plea from his village, Mantamados, to pick up refugees there, although it meant working deep into the night.
In Molyvos, refugees lined up by the side of the road. Papagrigoriu’s was the second-last bus of the evening. The great golden orb of the sun was already halfway through its riveting plunge below the horizon. I.R.C. officials explained how they try to stop refugees setting off on foot to Mytilene, but some are too impatient to wait.
I got talking on the bus to Taleb Hosein, an Afghan refugee. He’d been on the road for a long time, how long he could not say. The worst was a walk of several days without food from Iran into Turkey. He looked very young. I asked how old he was. He did not know. In Afghanistan, he said, there are often no birth records. “I think I am about 17 or 18,” he said. Where was he headed? “I want a safe place, I don’t care where, but Britain would be my favorite, because I study English.”
A 26-year-old Syrian dentist from Damascus who had been listening to us told me he had gotten married two weeks ago. His wife was sleeping, her head on his shoulder. “This is our honeymoon,” he said.
Night had fallen. The groups of walking refugees held feeble flashlights. Many had stopped, having decided to sleep by the side of the road. One young man stood in the path of the bus until the last moment. Papagrigoriu, slowly negotiating the switchbacks, talked about how certain situations demand that human beings help one another, other considerations be damned.
Exhausted silence enveloped the bus. Hosein and the other Afghans disembarked into a camp surrounded by barbed wire. The Syrian transit camp is less forbidding; Greek authorities quickly hand out a permit to stay for six months. Most refugees want to move north to Germany, where they believe they will find jobs.
They will be lucky if they find Papagrigoriu’s humanity. The world hardens in technology’s vise. The productivity of generosity cannot be measured.
I asked Alexis Papahelas, the executive editor of the Greek daily Kathimerini, what Greece could teach the world: “That dignity and decency can be preserved, even through the hardest times.”
It’s a powerful, important lesson that Alexis Tsipras, re-elected as Greece’s left-wing prime minister, should carry forward.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/22/opini ... d=45305309
MOLYVOS, Greece — Here’s a rough guide to the modern world: More efficiency, less humanity. Technology is principally at the service of productivity. Acts of irrational grace are not its thing. They have no algorithm.
Greece has made me think about everything statistics don’t tell you. No European country has been as battered in recent years. No European country has responded with as much consistent humanity to the refugee crisis.
Greater prosperity equals diminishing generosity. Device distraction equals inability to give of your time. Modernity fosters the transactional relationship over the human relationship. The rules are not absolute, but they are useful indicators.
More than 200,000 refugees, mainly from Syria, have arrived in a Greece on the brink this year, almost half of them coming ashore in the island of Lesbos, which lies just six miles from Turkey. They have entered a country with a quarter of its population unemployed. They have found themselves in a state whose per-capita income has fallen by nearly 23 percent since the crisis began, with a tenuous banking system and unstable politics. Greece could serve as a textbook example of a nation with potential for violence against a massive influx of outsiders.
In general, the refugees have been well received. There have been clashes, including on Lesbos, but almost none of the miserable bigotry, petty calculation, schoolyard petulance and amnesiac small-mindedness emanating from European Union countries further north, particularly Hungary.
For several hours, I crisscrossed Lesbos with a driver, Michalis Papagrigoriou, who had volunteered to help transport refugees from Molyvos in the north of the island to the port in Mytilene, about 45 miles away. His bus, normally used to ferry pale North European tourists in search of Mediterranean sun, had been leased by the International Rescue Committee (I.R.C.) to help the more than 2,000 refugees arriving in inflatable rafts every day.
Papagrigoriou, besieged by calls to take his bus here and there, was in an irrepressible mood. Around each switchback on the hills between Kalloni in the middle of the island and Molyvos in the north, refugees came into view: children, old men, pregnant women trudging through pine woods.
They raised their arms. They pleaded. They lay slumped against backpacks. Discarded water bottles traced their path. Papagrigoriou, with an appointment to pick up a busload in Molyvos, could not help immediately but each group prompted an impassioned soliloquy about injustice and shared humanity. On the way back, although full, he would bend the rules to squeeze in an extra woman and child. He would also accept a plea from his village, Mantamados, to pick up refugees there, although it meant working deep into the night.
In Molyvos, refugees lined up by the side of the road. Papagrigoriu’s was the second-last bus of the evening. The great golden orb of the sun was already halfway through its riveting plunge below the horizon. I.R.C. officials explained how they try to stop refugees setting off on foot to Mytilene, but some are too impatient to wait.
I got talking on the bus to Taleb Hosein, an Afghan refugee. He’d been on the road for a long time, how long he could not say. The worst was a walk of several days without food from Iran into Turkey. He looked very young. I asked how old he was. He did not know. In Afghanistan, he said, there are often no birth records. “I think I am about 17 or 18,” he said. Where was he headed? “I want a safe place, I don’t care where, but Britain would be my favorite, because I study English.”
A 26-year-old Syrian dentist from Damascus who had been listening to us told me he had gotten married two weeks ago. His wife was sleeping, her head on his shoulder. “This is our honeymoon,” he said.
Night had fallen. The groups of walking refugees held feeble flashlights. Many had stopped, having decided to sleep by the side of the road. One young man stood in the path of the bus until the last moment. Papagrigoriu, slowly negotiating the switchbacks, talked about how certain situations demand that human beings help one another, other considerations be damned.
Exhausted silence enveloped the bus. Hosein and the other Afghans disembarked into a camp surrounded by barbed wire. The Syrian transit camp is less forbidding; Greek authorities quickly hand out a permit to stay for six months. Most refugees want to move north to Germany, where they believe they will find jobs.
They will be lucky if they find Papagrigoriu’s humanity. The world hardens in technology’s vise. The productivity of generosity cannot be measured.
I asked Alexis Papahelas, the executive editor of the Greek daily Kathimerini, what Greece could teach the world: “That dignity and decency can be preserved, even through the hardest times.”
It’s a powerful, important lesson that Alexis Tsipras, re-elected as Greece’s left-wing prime minister, should carry forward.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/22/opini ... d=45305309
9 important things about self
There are so many important things you don’t know about yourself, so many wonderful and precious things. And today I would like to share with you 9 of these things.
Enjoy.
1. There is a life-force within your Soul.
From a very young age you were taught to look outside yourself for all the things you thought were missing from your life. Not knowing that
“There is a life-force within your soul, seek that life. There is a gem in the mountain of your body, seek that mine. O’ traveller of you are in search of that, don’t look outside, look inside yourself and seek that.” ~ Rumi
2. You know more than you think you do.
Another important thing you should know about yourself is that your heart and Soul are a lot wiser than you think. They know everything about you, about your life’s path and about the many wonderful things you are capable of being, doing and having. And if you could just get into the habit of conversing with your Soul – listening, trusting and following the guidance of your heart and the wisdom of your intuition, you will soon discover that all the answers you were once so desperately seeking outside yourself, were within you all
“I have been a seeker and I still am. But I stopped asking the books and the stars. I started listening to the teachings of my soul.” ~ Rumi
3. You weren’t created to live in a “box.”
Your true nature is soft and flexible, fluid and expansive. Who you are underneath it all is much grander and much more complex than your conceptual structure of reality. Much more precious and a lot more valuable than all the labels that have been placed on you up until this moment, and all the labels that will continue to be placed on you in the future. And when you use all kinds of rigid concepts and labels to define yourself, placing yourself in a “box” and conforming to strict ideas of who you are and how you should live your life, you deny yourself the right to realize your true nature. You deny yourself the right to become all that life created you to be.
4. You are not a finished product.
Who you are is constantly changing, growing and evolving; taking different forms, different shapes and becoming something new each day. And that is why it is so important to be flexible. To be open to change and to allow things to take their natural course. To allow yourself to be who life needs you to be, not who you think you should be. And to always remember that
“The more a thing tends to be permanent, the more it tends to be lifeless.” ~ Alan Watts
5. When you try to shine, you dim your inner light.
Verse 24 of The Tao Te Ching talks about this in a glorious way:
“He who stands on tiptoe doesn’t stand firm. He who rushes ahead doesn’t go far. He who tries to shine dims his own light. He who defines himself can’t know who he really is.” ~ Lao Tzu
You came into this world shining bright like a star. And even though you might have forgotten how valuable you actually are, if you could just be who you are without constantly trying to prove your value to those around you, you will eventually allow your inner light to be seen, valued and appreciated. And you will no longer depend on others to confirm that you’re worthwhile.
6. Your self-worth cannot be verified by others.
Other people can’t determine how worthy and valuable you truly are. And you know why? Because most people have no idea how valuable they themselves are. Most people allow external things, places, people and circumstances to determine how much they are worth, and so they judge you as being worthy or not so worthy based on the same criteria, not knowing that these things have nothing to do with your value and self-worth. Make sure you don’t fall into the trap of thinking that who you are is not enough and that you need other people’s approval, love and validation in order for you to feel that way. Never allow external things, places, people or circumstances to determine how much you’re worth. Decide for yourself. It’s called “self-worth” not “other-worth.”
“Self-worth cannot be verified by others. You are worthy because you say it is so. If you depend on others for your value it is other-worth.” ~ Wayne Dyer
7. You don’t have to compare or compete with anyone or anything else.
The life you are meant to create and the person you were born to be are unique. And since your path in life is different from everybody else’s, there is no need to compare or compete with anyone or anything else. No need to try to be better than those around you. You are safe.
“When you are content to be simply yourself and don’t compare or compete, everybody will respect you.” ~ Lao Tzu
8. Your path in life is different from everybody else’s.
You have your own unique path to walk in life. A path that is different from everybody else’s. And even though you might be tempted at times to imitate and follow the herd; to do what everybody else does, please don’t! Follow the wise advice of Ralph Waldo Emerson and
“Insist on yourself; never imitate… Every great man is unique. Embrace your uniqueness. Walk the right path.”
9. You are never alone.
You are never alone wherever you are. You are always in the company of your wonderful, precious and loving Self. Your heart and Soul are always with you – guiding you, protecting you, and making sure that you feel safe, loved and cared for. And that my friend, is something that no one can take away from you.
“As a body everyone is single, as a soul never.” ~ Hermann Hesse
There are so many important things you don’t know about yourself, so many wonderful and precious things. And today I would like to share with you 9 of these things.
Enjoy.
1. There is a life-force within your Soul.
From a very young age you were taught to look outside yourself for all the things you thought were missing from your life. Not knowing that
“There is a life-force within your soul, seek that life. There is a gem in the mountain of your body, seek that mine. O’ traveller of you are in search of that, don’t look outside, look inside yourself and seek that.” ~ Rumi
2. You know more than you think you do.
Another important thing you should know about yourself is that your heart and Soul are a lot wiser than you think. They know everything about you, about your life’s path and about the many wonderful things you are capable of being, doing and having. And if you could just get into the habit of conversing with your Soul – listening, trusting and following the guidance of your heart and the wisdom of your intuition, you will soon discover that all the answers you were once so desperately seeking outside yourself, were within you all
“I have been a seeker and I still am. But I stopped asking the books and the stars. I started listening to the teachings of my soul.” ~ Rumi
3. You weren’t created to live in a “box.”
Your true nature is soft and flexible, fluid and expansive. Who you are underneath it all is much grander and much more complex than your conceptual structure of reality. Much more precious and a lot more valuable than all the labels that have been placed on you up until this moment, and all the labels that will continue to be placed on you in the future. And when you use all kinds of rigid concepts and labels to define yourself, placing yourself in a “box” and conforming to strict ideas of who you are and how you should live your life, you deny yourself the right to realize your true nature. You deny yourself the right to become all that life created you to be.
4. You are not a finished product.
Who you are is constantly changing, growing and evolving; taking different forms, different shapes and becoming something new each day. And that is why it is so important to be flexible. To be open to change and to allow things to take their natural course. To allow yourself to be who life needs you to be, not who you think you should be. And to always remember that
“The more a thing tends to be permanent, the more it tends to be lifeless.” ~ Alan Watts
5. When you try to shine, you dim your inner light.
Verse 24 of The Tao Te Ching talks about this in a glorious way:
“He who stands on tiptoe doesn’t stand firm. He who rushes ahead doesn’t go far. He who tries to shine dims his own light. He who defines himself can’t know who he really is.” ~ Lao Tzu
You came into this world shining bright like a star. And even though you might have forgotten how valuable you actually are, if you could just be who you are without constantly trying to prove your value to those around you, you will eventually allow your inner light to be seen, valued and appreciated. And you will no longer depend on others to confirm that you’re worthwhile.
6. Your self-worth cannot be verified by others.
Other people can’t determine how worthy and valuable you truly are. And you know why? Because most people have no idea how valuable they themselves are. Most people allow external things, places, people and circumstances to determine how much they are worth, and so they judge you as being worthy or not so worthy based on the same criteria, not knowing that these things have nothing to do with your value and self-worth. Make sure you don’t fall into the trap of thinking that who you are is not enough and that you need other people’s approval, love and validation in order for you to feel that way. Never allow external things, places, people or circumstances to determine how much you’re worth. Decide for yourself. It’s called “self-worth” not “other-worth.”
“Self-worth cannot be verified by others. You are worthy because you say it is so. If you depend on others for your value it is other-worth.” ~ Wayne Dyer
7. You don’t have to compare or compete with anyone or anything else.
The life you are meant to create and the person you were born to be are unique. And since your path in life is different from everybody else’s, there is no need to compare or compete with anyone or anything else. No need to try to be better than those around you. You are safe.
“When you are content to be simply yourself and don’t compare or compete, everybody will respect you.” ~ Lao Tzu
8. Your path in life is different from everybody else’s.
You have your own unique path to walk in life. A path that is different from everybody else’s. And even though you might be tempted at times to imitate and follow the herd; to do what everybody else does, please don’t! Follow the wise advice of Ralph Waldo Emerson and
“Insist on yourself; never imitate… Every great man is unique. Embrace your uniqueness. Walk the right path.”
9. You are never alone.
You are never alone wherever you are. You are always in the company of your wonderful, precious and loving Self. Your heart and Soul are always with you – guiding you, protecting you, and making sure that you feel safe, loved and cared for. And that my friend, is something that no one can take away from you.
“As a body everyone is single, as a soul never.” ~ Hermann Hesse
Tales of the Super Survivors
The age of terror is an age of shocks. Individuals, families and whole societies get torn apart by unexpected stabbings, shootings and bombings.
It’s horrible, of course, but over the past few years the findings of academic research into the effects of these traumas have shifted in a more positive direction. Human beings are more resilient than we’d earlier thought. Many people bounce back from hard knocks and experience surges of post-traumatic growth.
In the first place, post-traumatic stress disorder rates are lower than many of us imagine. According to a study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, only about 13 percent of the first responders on 9/11 had symptoms that would qualify as a stress disorder. Only about 13 percent of the people who saw the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks in person experienced PTSD in the next six months. The best general rule for all of society seems to be that at least 75 percent of the people who experience a life-threatening or violent event emerge without a stress disorder.
Even many of those who are unlucky enough to fall victim to the horrific pain of PTSD are able to recover and rebuild better lives. These are people you sometimes meet who have experienced the worst in life but still radiate love and joy. They get to live a second life and correct the mistakes they made before the earthquake shook everything loose.
As Philip A. Fisher, a University of Oregon psychology professor, noted in an email, the big background factor that nurtures resilience is unconditional love. The people who survive and rebound from trauma frequently had an early caregiver who pumped unshakable love into them, and that built a rock of inner security they could stand on for the rest of their lives.
There are some foreground factors, too, traits super survivors tend to have that enable them to come back stronger then ever. These people are often deluded in good ways about their own abilities, but completely realistic about their situations. That is to say, they have positive illusions about their own talents, and an optimist’s faith in their own abilities to control the future. But they have no illusions about the world around them. They accept what they have lost quickly. They see problems clearly. They work hard. Work is the reliable cure for sorrow.
Recovering from trauma is mainly an exercise in storytelling. As Richard Tedeschi, a psychology professor at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, has pointed out, trauma is a shock that ruptures the central story that you thought was your life. The recurring patterns that make up life are disrupted. The sense of safety is lost. Having faced death, people in these circumstances are forced to confront the elemental questions of life.
But some people are able to write a new story. As Tedeschi writes, post-traumatic growth comes not from the event but from the struggle afterward to write a new story that imagines a life better than before. Researchers have found that people who thrive after a shock are able to tell clear, forward-looking stories about themselves, while those who don’t thrive get stuck ruminating darkly about the past.
Book 1 is life before the event. Book 2 is the event that shattered the old story. But Book 3 is reintegration, a reframing new story that incorporates what happened and then points to a more virtuous and meaningful life than the one before.
These are intensely moral narratives that describe a life of higher purpose. Viktor Frankl survived the Holocaust and concluded that those who could best survive the camps were those who could satisfy their hunger for lives of meaning. Even if they were suffering, they could direct their attention toward those they loved and those they would serve in their future lives.
Frankl, who went on to become a professor of neurology and psychiatry, cited Nietzsche’s dictum that he who has a why to live for can endure almost any how. The stories super survivors tell have two big themes: optimism and altruism.
It’s interesting that this age of terrorism calls forth certain practical skills — the ability to tell stories, the ability to philosophize and define a meaning to your life. Just as individuals need moral stories if they are going to recover, so probably do nations. France will most likely need a parable to make sense of what happened, just as the United States still has competing parables about the meaning of 9/11.
This is why foreign policies that pursue amoral realpolitik are always impractical. If a country can’t discern a moral purpose in its foreign policy, it will lack resilience. It will lack the capacity to bounce back from an attack. It will lack a satisfying narrative and lose the ability to thrive in terror’s wake.
The good news is there is no reason to be pessimistic during the war on terrorism. Individuals and societies are tough and resilient, and usually emerge from attacks better than before.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/24/opini ... 87722&_r=0
The age of terror is an age of shocks. Individuals, families and whole societies get torn apart by unexpected stabbings, shootings and bombings.
It’s horrible, of course, but over the past few years the findings of academic research into the effects of these traumas have shifted in a more positive direction. Human beings are more resilient than we’d earlier thought. Many people bounce back from hard knocks and experience surges of post-traumatic growth.
In the first place, post-traumatic stress disorder rates are lower than many of us imagine. According to a study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, only about 13 percent of the first responders on 9/11 had symptoms that would qualify as a stress disorder. Only about 13 percent of the people who saw the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks in person experienced PTSD in the next six months. The best general rule for all of society seems to be that at least 75 percent of the people who experience a life-threatening or violent event emerge without a stress disorder.
Even many of those who are unlucky enough to fall victim to the horrific pain of PTSD are able to recover and rebuild better lives. These are people you sometimes meet who have experienced the worst in life but still radiate love and joy. They get to live a second life and correct the mistakes they made before the earthquake shook everything loose.
As Philip A. Fisher, a University of Oregon psychology professor, noted in an email, the big background factor that nurtures resilience is unconditional love. The people who survive and rebound from trauma frequently had an early caregiver who pumped unshakable love into them, and that built a rock of inner security they could stand on for the rest of their lives.
There are some foreground factors, too, traits super survivors tend to have that enable them to come back stronger then ever. These people are often deluded in good ways about their own abilities, but completely realistic about their situations. That is to say, they have positive illusions about their own talents, and an optimist’s faith in their own abilities to control the future. But they have no illusions about the world around them. They accept what they have lost quickly. They see problems clearly. They work hard. Work is the reliable cure for sorrow.
Recovering from trauma is mainly an exercise in storytelling. As Richard Tedeschi, a psychology professor at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, has pointed out, trauma is a shock that ruptures the central story that you thought was your life. The recurring patterns that make up life are disrupted. The sense of safety is lost. Having faced death, people in these circumstances are forced to confront the elemental questions of life.
But some people are able to write a new story. As Tedeschi writes, post-traumatic growth comes not from the event but from the struggle afterward to write a new story that imagines a life better than before. Researchers have found that people who thrive after a shock are able to tell clear, forward-looking stories about themselves, while those who don’t thrive get stuck ruminating darkly about the past.
Book 1 is life before the event. Book 2 is the event that shattered the old story. But Book 3 is reintegration, a reframing new story that incorporates what happened and then points to a more virtuous and meaningful life than the one before.
These are intensely moral narratives that describe a life of higher purpose. Viktor Frankl survived the Holocaust and concluded that those who could best survive the camps were those who could satisfy their hunger for lives of meaning. Even if they were suffering, they could direct their attention toward those they loved and those they would serve in their future lives.
Frankl, who went on to become a professor of neurology and psychiatry, cited Nietzsche’s dictum that he who has a why to live for can endure almost any how. The stories super survivors tell have two big themes: optimism and altruism.
It’s interesting that this age of terrorism calls forth certain practical skills — the ability to tell stories, the ability to philosophize and define a meaning to your life. Just as individuals need moral stories if they are going to recover, so probably do nations. France will most likely need a parable to make sense of what happened, just as the United States still has competing parables about the meaning of 9/11.
This is why foreign policies that pursue amoral realpolitik are always impractical. If a country can’t discern a moral purpose in its foreign policy, it will lack resilience. It will lack the capacity to bounce back from an attack. It will lack a satisfying narrative and lose the ability to thrive in terror’s wake.
The good news is there is no reason to be pessimistic during the war on terrorism. Individuals and societies are tough and resilient, and usually emerge from attacks better than before.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/24/opini ... 87722&_r=0
7 Habits Of Highly Spiritual People
You're highly productive, goal-oriented and efficient at life ... but are you achieving your life's dreams at the expense of your spiritual growth?
You may think that spiritual growth is for people who have too much time on their hands — not for busy people climbing the professional ladder. But the problem with this thinking is that when you reach all of your goals you might find that they don't resonate with your spirit.
And while you can suppress your spiritual self for some time, you can't do so for a lifetime. At some point, your life will yearn for more meaning. Connecting to your spiritual center is where your true power and purpose lie.
If you're living a soul-centered life, you're living from a place of purpose and wisdom. You'll notice that what you seek and desire begin to manifest more quickly.
So in the spirit of The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen R. Covey, here are seven habits of highly spiritual people to help you live a more awakened and conscious life with purpose:
1. Accept and surrender.
"Acceptance means, for now, this is what this situation, this moment, requires me to do, and so I do it willingly." -Eckhart Tolle
Not every life situation can be changed, turned around or fixed. There will be moments in your life when you will have to step back and stay out of the way. Learning to accept change and uncertainty will help you live a more balanced and peaceful life.
Knowing that you can't change some things and that you don't have control over everything, allows you to be grateful for what is in front of you now. When the path is unclear or uncertain, let go instead of clinging more. Surrender and have faith that the universe will guide the way.
2. Begin with the soul in mind.
How often do you make time for the soul? Maybe this notion has never even crossed your mind.
Food, work, exercise and obligations may fill your everyday life, but what are you doing for your soul today? Set aside some time for soul-reflection and awareness. Pursue practices that help you get still, and begin to see your spirit at work.
Walk, pray, sing and silence your mind. Reflect upon art, observe your breath … listen to this source of all-knowing wisdom in your life.
Align your work and your life to your highest source of knowledge. Follow dreams and desires that align with your spirit. If you are unsure what your spirit's intentions are, slow down and listen more deeply. Elevate the importance of soul-wisdom in your life and create time for it.
3. Put spiritual things first.
As you go about the world from your spiritual center, learn where low vibrations and negative intentions are coming from.
Cut out anything in your life that is not spiritually sound and centered on your truth. Let go of the excesses in your life — including frivolous purchases — that don't serve your spirit.
Sit with and release the emotions stifling your spirit. Let go of work that diminishes your light and walk away from a career that crushes your soul. Feed your appetite with food that nourishes you.
4. Know that we are all one.
When you believe you are one with everyone, you will more easily let go of judgment, gossip and unhealthy comparisons.
Allow your soul to expand from within, to touch everyone around you. From your most sacred space or most intimate silence, spread the inner love of your soul to everyone you know. Share the light of your "soul-candle."
Set the intention to forgive those who have harmed you because they are one with you. Try to find a place of gratitude for those who get on your nerves, who have hurt you in the past, or who have helped you grow as a person. Shine the light of gratitude on the people who test you because they are your greatest spiritual teachers.
Bow in gratitude to those who have broken your heart and crushed your spirit — they have helped you crack open your heart so that you can awaken your spirit.
5. Seek to free yourself of ego and attachment.
Observe yourself and seek more awareness of ego in your life. See the ego when it tries to grab power, feel superior or push others down. Be observant of it when it is selfish, angry, spoiled or unreasonable. Feel the pangs of the ego when circumstances or people offend or irritate it.
See how attached you are to your current circumstances, the people in your life and your material possessions. Can you walk away from it all today and still be content? Practice the art of letting go every day in your life. Let go of thoughts, feelings and emotions that you want to cling to.
6. Synchronize with the universe.
Allow the universe to work for you and in your favor. Seek places and experiences that produce higher vibrations in your life. Cultivate good feelings and ride the wave of those feelings daily. Seek experiences (yoga, massage, sleep, slowly sipped tea) that make you feel good and cultivate more abundance in your life.
Give what you can of yourself, share freely, and extend compassion to everyone around you. Allow all your actions and movements to align with the universal source and watch miracles unfold in your life.
7. Sharpen your being.
Allow spirit to lead the way in all areas of your life. Become the best version of yourself spiritually and let that translate itself into your career, relationships, life and personality. Don't let the current reality and limitations stop you from living your best life. Let your spirit break through limiting visions, stuck circumstances and disempowering beliefs, to help you live the life of your dreams.
Make your spiritual habits central in your life and your life will never be the same. Live from a place of spirit; if you do, abundance, peace and fulfillment will naturally flow in.
You're highly productive, goal-oriented and efficient at life ... but are you achieving your life's dreams at the expense of your spiritual growth?
You may think that spiritual growth is for people who have too much time on their hands — not for busy people climbing the professional ladder. But the problem with this thinking is that when you reach all of your goals you might find that they don't resonate with your spirit.
And while you can suppress your spiritual self for some time, you can't do so for a lifetime. At some point, your life will yearn for more meaning. Connecting to your spiritual center is where your true power and purpose lie.
If you're living a soul-centered life, you're living from a place of purpose and wisdom. You'll notice that what you seek and desire begin to manifest more quickly.
So in the spirit of The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen R. Covey, here are seven habits of highly spiritual people to help you live a more awakened and conscious life with purpose:
1. Accept and surrender.
"Acceptance means, for now, this is what this situation, this moment, requires me to do, and so I do it willingly." -Eckhart Tolle
Not every life situation can be changed, turned around or fixed. There will be moments in your life when you will have to step back and stay out of the way. Learning to accept change and uncertainty will help you live a more balanced and peaceful life.
Knowing that you can't change some things and that you don't have control over everything, allows you to be grateful for what is in front of you now. When the path is unclear or uncertain, let go instead of clinging more. Surrender and have faith that the universe will guide the way.
2. Begin with the soul in mind.
How often do you make time for the soul? Maybe this notion has never even crossed your mind.
Food, work, exercise and obligations may fill your everyday life, but what are you doing for your soul today? Set aside some time for soul-reflection and awareness. Pursue practices that help you get still, and begin to see your spirit at work.
Walk, pray, sing and silence your mind. Reflect upon art, observe your breath … listen to this source of all-knowing wisdom in your life.
Align your work and your life to your highest source of knowledge. Follow dreams and desires that align with your spirit. If you are unsure what your spirit's intentions are, slow down and listen more deeply. Elevate the importance of soul-wisdom in your life and create time for it.
3. Put spiritual things first.
As you go about the world from your spiritual center, learn where low vibrations and negative intentions are coming from.
Cut out anything in your life that is not spiritually sound and centered on your truth. Let go of the excesses in your life — including frivolous purchases — that don't serve your spirit.
Sit with and release the emotions stifling your spirit. Let go of work that diminishes your light and walk away from a career that crushes your soul. Feed your appetite with food that nourishes you.
4. Know that we are all one.
When you believe you are one with everyone, you will more easily let go of judgment, gossip and unhealthy comparisons.
Allow your soul to expand from within, to touch everyone around you. From your most sacred space or most intimate silence, spread the inner love of your soul to everyone you know. Share the light of your "soul-candle."
Set the intention to forgive those who have harmed you because they are one with you. Try to find a place of gratitude for those who get on your nerves, who have hurt you in the past, or who have helped you grow as a person. Shine the light of gratitude on the people who test you because they are your greatest spiritual teachers.
Bow in gratitude to those who have broken your heart and crushed your spirit — they have helped you crack open your heart so that you can awaken your spirit.
5. Seek to free yourself of ego and attachment.
Observe yourself and seek more awareness of ego in your life. See the ego when it tries to grab power, feel superior or push others down. Be observant of it when it is selfish, angry, spoiled or unreasonable. Feel the pangs of the ego when circumstances or people offend or irritate it.
See how attached you are to your current circumstances, the people in your life and your material possessions. Can you walk away from it all today and still be content? Practice the art of letting go every day in your life. Let go of thoughts, feelings and emotions that you want to cling to.
6. Synchronize with the universe.
Allow the universe to work for you and in your favor. Seek places and experiences that produce higher vibrations in your life. Cultivate good feelings and ride the wave of those feelings daily. Seek experiences (yoga, massage, sleep, slowly sipped tea) that make you feel good and cultivate more abundance in your life.
Give what you can of yourself, share freely, and extend compassion to everyone around you. Allow all your actions and movements to align with the universal source and watch miracles unfold in your life.
7. Sharpen your being.
Allow spirit to lead the way in all areas of your life. Become the best version of yourself spiritually and let that translate itself into your career, relationships, life and personality. Don't let the current reality and limitations stop you from living your best life. Let your spirit break through limiting visions, stuck circumstances and disempowering beliefs, to help you live the life of your dreams.
Make your spiritual habits central in your life and your life will never be the same. Live from a place of spirit; if you do, abundance, peace and fulfillment will naturally flow in.
21 Inspiring Quotes From the Mentor who Taught Tony Robbins How to Be Tony Robbins
Ever wonder how Tony Robbins got to be Tony Robbins? Yes, he's inspiring, energetic, larger than life, and works unbelievably hard. But how did he get his start? How did he first discover he could have a career speaking to audiences of thousands? It turns out he had an older entrepreneur and motivational speaker as a mentor.
Robbins attributes the beginning of his career to meeting the late Jim Rohn. "He got me to realize that the secret to life was to work harder on myself than my job or anything else because then I'd have something to give people," Robbins said soon after Rohn passed away in 2009.
When the two first met, Rohn inspired Robbins to attend his first seminar which Rohn described this way: "This man who has incredible life experience tells you the best insights he has and saves you a decade or two." Later Robbins worked for Rohn, promoting his mentor's seminars before striking out on his own.
Rohn himself came from humble beginnings. He grew up on an Idaho farm and dropped out of college at 19--unfortunately, he said--because he figured he was smart enough to get a job and how much smarter did he need to be? After struggling for a few years, he himself was inspired by the motivational speaker John Earl Shoaff and Rohn wound up a vice president at the direct sales supplement company Nutri-Bio, which Shoaff co-founded. After moving to Beverly Hills, Rohn was invited to give a speech in 1960 at a local Rotary Club, which started to his motivational speaking career. In time, Rohn would give speeches and seminars in front of more than 6,000 audiences.
Rohn's teachings also influenced other high-profile motivational figures, including Mark Victor Hansen and Jack Canfield, co-creators of the Chicken Soup book series. here are some of his most memorable quotes:
1. If you don't design your own life plan, chances are you'll fall into someone else's plan. And guess what they have planned for you? Not much.
2. Either you run the day or the day runs you.
3. Success is nothing more than a few simple disciplines, practiced every day.
4. Take care of your body. It's the only place you have to live.
5. Happiness is not something you postpone for the future; it is something you design for the present.
6. If you go to work on your goals, your goals will go to work on you. If you go to work on your plan, your plan will go to work on you. Whatever good things we build end up building us.
7. The walls we build around us to keep sadness out also keeps out the joy.
8. You cannot change your destination overnight, but you can change your direction overnight.
9. Give whatever you are doing and whoever you are with the gift of your attention.
10. The worst thing one can do is not to try, to be aware of what one wants and not give in to it, to spend years in silent hurt wondering if something could have materialized--never knowing.
11. If you are not willing to risk the unusual, you will have to settle for the ordinary.
12. If you don't like how things are, change it! You're not a tree.
13. To solve any problem, here are three questions to ask yourself: First, what could I do? Second, what could I read? And third, who could I ask?
14. The major reason for setting a goal is for what it makes of you to accomplish it. What it makes of you will always be the far greater value than what you get.
15. Maturity is the ability to reap without apology and not complain when things don't go well.
16. Character isn't something you were born with and can't change, like your fingerprints. It's something you weren't born with and must take responsibility for forming.
17. It doesn't matter which side of the fence you get off on sometimes. What matters most is getting off. You cannot make progress without making decisions.
18. Things that I felt absolutely sure of but a few years ago, I do not believe now. This thought makes me see more clearly how foolish it would be to expect all men to agree with me.
19. The few who do are the envy of the many who only watch.
20. Asking is the beginning of receiving. Make sure you don't go to the ocean with a teaspoon. At least take a bucket so the kids won't laugh at you.
21. Let others lead small lives, but not you. Let others argue over small things, but not you. Let others cry over small hurts, but not you. Let others leave their future in someone else's hands, but not you.
http://www.inc.com/minda-zetlin/21-insp ... robbi.html
Ever wonder how Tony Robbins got to be Tony Robbins? Yes, he's inspiring, energetic, larger than life, and works unbelievably hard. But how did he get his start? How did he first discover he could have a career speaking to audiences of thousands? It turns out he had an older entrepreneur and motivational speaker as a mentor.
Robbins attributes the beginning of his career to meeting the late Jim Rohn. "He got me to realize that the secret to life was to work harder on myself than my job or anything else because then I'd have something to give people," Robbins said soon after Rohn passed away in 2009.
When the two first met, Rohn inspired Robbins to attend his first seminar which Rohn described this way: "This man who has incredible life experience tells you the best insights he has and saves you a decade or two." Later Robbins worked for Rohn, promoting his mentor's seminars before striking out on his own.
Rohn himself came from humble beginnings. He grew up on an Idaho farm and dropped out of college at 19--unfortunately, he said--because he figured he was smart enough to get a job and how much smarter did he need to be? After struggling for a few years, he himself was inspired by the motivational speaker John Earl Shoaff and Rohn wound up a vice president at the direct sales supplement company Nutri-Bio, which Shoaff co-founded. After moving to Beverly Hills, Rohn was invited to give a speech in 1960 at a local Rotary Club, which started to his motivational speaking career. In time, Rohn would give speeches and seminars in front of more than 6,000 audiences.
Rohn's teachings also influenced other high-profile motivational figures, including Mark Victor Hansen and Jack Canfield, co-creators of the Chicken Soup book series. here are some of his most memorable quotes:
1. If you don't design your own life plan, chances are you'll fall into someone else's plan. And guess what they have planned for you? Not much.
2. Either you run the day or the day runs you.
3. Success is nothing more than a few simple disciplines, practiced every day.
4. Take care of your body. It's the only place you have to live.
5. Happiness is not something you postpone for the future; it is something you design for the present.
6. If you go to work on your goals, your goals will go to work on you. If you go to work on your plan, your plan will go to work on you. Whatever good things we build end up building us.
7. The walls we build around us to keep sadness out also keeps out the joy.
8. You cannot change your destination overnight, but you can change your direction overnight.
9. Give whatever you are doing and whoever you are with the gift of your attention.
10. The worst thing one can do is not to try, to be aware of what one wants and not give in to it, to spend years in silent hurt wondering if something could have materialized--never knowing.
11. If you are not willing to risk the unusual, you will have to settle for the ordinary.
12. If you don't like how things are, change it! You're not a tree.
13. To solve any problem, here are three questions to ask yourself: First, what could I do? Second, what could I read? And third, who could I ask?
14. The major reason for setting a goal is for what it makes of you to accomplish it. What it makes of you will always be the far greater value than what you get.
15. Maturity is the ability to reap without apology and not complain when things don't go well.
16. Character isn't something you were born with and can't change, like your fingerprints. It's something you weren't born with and must take responsibility for forming.
17. It doesn't matter which side of the fence you get off on sometimes. What matters most is getting off. You cannot make progress without making decisions.
18. Things that I felt absolutely sure of but a few years ago, I do not believe now. This thought makes me see more clearly how foolish it would be to expect all men to agree with me.
19. The few who do are the envy of the many who only watch.
20. Asking is the beginning of receiving. Make sure you don't go to the ocean with a teaspoon. At least take a bucket so the kids won't laugh at you.
21. Let others lead small lives, but not you. Let others argue over small things, but not you. Let others cry over small hurts, but not you. Let others leave their future in someone else's hands, but not you.
http://www.inc.com/minda-zetlin/21-insp ... robbi.html
Just Stay
A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside. "Your son is here," she said to the old man. She had to repeat the words several times before the patient's eyes opened.
Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man's limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.
The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed. All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man's hand and offering him words of love and strength. Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile. He refused. Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital - the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients.
Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night. Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse.
While she did what she had to do, he waited. Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her. "Who was that man?" he asked.
The nurse was startled, "He was your father," she answered.
"No, he wasn't," the Marine replied. "I never saw him before in my life."
"Then why didn't you say something when I took you to him?"
"I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn't here. When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I stayed. I came here tonight to find a Mr. William Grey. His Son was Killed in Iraq today, and I was sent to inform him. What was this Gentleman's Name?"
The Nurse with Tears in Her Eyes Answered, "Mr. William Grey!"
The next time someone needs you ... just be there. Stay.
A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside. "Your son is here," she said to the old man. She had to repeat the words several times before the patient's eyes opened.
Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent. He reached out his hand. The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man's limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.
The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed. All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man's hand and offering him words of love and strength. Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile. He refused. Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital - the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients.
Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night. Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse.
While she did what she had to do, he waited. Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her. "Who was that man?" he asked.
The nurse was startled, "He was your father," she answered.
"No, he wasn't," the Marine replied. "I never saw him before in my life."
"Then why didn't you say something when I took you to him?"
"I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn't here. When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I stayed. I came here tonight to find a Mr. William Grey. His Son was Killed in Iraq today, and I was sent to inform him. What was this Gentleman's Name?"
The Nurse with Tears in Her Eyes Answered, "Mr. William Grey!"
The next time someone needs you ... just be there. Stay.
Tansen and Akbar
The emperor so loved to hear Tansen sing.
One day Akbar asked Tansen, "You are a magnificent singer, who is your teacher? Who could be this great person to instill such passion and sweetness to your voice? How great must be your teacher to have a student like you?"
I want to meet your teacher, fetch him and bring him to me. I wish to meet your teacher" demanded Akbar.
Tansen said "My Guru ji (teacher) is Swami Haridas ji. He dwells deep in the forest and lives all by himself". He will not leave the forest, and he submits to none other than Almighty God. I am afraid to say, he will submit not even to you, your majesty"
Akbar grew angry "I will have him beheaded if he refuses to come before me"
Tansen replied "He is a man of God and he fears nothing not even death. None can force Swami ji to do anything, if your majesty wishes to see him then your Majesty will have to go to him"
Akbar was fascinated. He felt compelled to go and meet Swami Haridas, Tansen's teacher. Akbar ordered his royal retinue to make ready for the march to the forest.
Tansen hurriedly intervened. "Your majesty, if my Guru ji sees you coming with arrogance he will definitely not meet you." He continued "We must go alone and meet him early in the morning at the ambrosial time (about 4 am).
Akbar was curious beyond belief. He agreed to all of Tansens's suggestions.
Very early the following morning they left the palace for the forest. Leaving the guards at the forest edge they rode on alone. At some distance from a large clearing near the river, they dismounted walked for quite a while finally they and crept up slowly behind some bushes from where they could spy and eavesdrop on a small cottage.
In a short while they heard the most fantastic and melodious songs. The Swami ji had arisen and started bathing and recitation of his prayers. He sang hymns with such divine devotion that Akbar was captivated.
After an enthralling hour the hermit felt silent having begun his meditation. The couple reluctantly crept away and rode back home.
On his return the emperor summoned Tansen and said " You are marvellous, but tell me, when you are your Guru ji's student, why can your voice not evoke the same feeling within me?"
Tansen bowed his head and said " Your majesty, I sing for your pleasure. I seek rewards and gifts from you. My song and poems are corrupted by the need for your appreciation.” “My teacher seeks no gain. He is filled with emotion which he expresses in his singing for his own pleasure and the praise of God".
Tansen concluded “ His song is rich because it is true and a reflection of the overflowing love and joy he feels.”
The emperor understood and he felt humbled. He gifted Tansen handsomely for a valuable lesson.
The lesson.
The stream gurgles musically. The birds sing and chirp melodiously because they are happy. The wind wafts and whistles through the forest without hesitation. They all do this without care of who will listen and who will appreciate them. They sing because it is their nature and they are happy. They are the way God has made them.
We human beings can also be happy if we choose to be.
However we often sacrifice our happiness by constantly seeking approval from others for our talent, our actions and even our thoughts.
If our actions do not harm others and make us happy we should pursue them.
Sing because we are happy, play because we want to, write stories, poetry and whatever we choose because that allows us to reach into the depths of our intellect and soul. To actually discover ourselves and to live.
Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul…
The emperor so loved to hear Tansen sing.
One day Akbar asked Tansen, "You are a magnificent singer, who is your teacher? Who could be this great person to instill such passion and sweetness to your voice? How great must be your teacher to have a student like you?"
I want to meet your teacher, fetch him and bring him to me. I wish to meet your teacher" demanded Akbar.
Tansen said "My Guru ji (teacher) is Swami Haridas ji. He dwells deep in the forest and lives all by himself". He will not leave the forest, and he submits to none other than Almighty God. I am afraid to say, he will submit not even to you, your majesty"
Akbar grew angry "I will have him beheaded if he refuses to come before me"
Tansen replied "He is a man of God and he fears nothing not even death. None can force Swami ji to do anything, if your majesty wishes to see him then your Majesty will have to go to him"
Akbar was fascinated. He felt compelled to go and meet Swami Haridas, Tansen's teacher. Akbar ordered his royal retinue to make ready for the march to the forest.
Tansen hurriedly intervened. "Your majesty, if my Guru ji sees you coming with arrogance he will definitely not meet you." He continued "We must go alone and meet him early in the morning at the ambrosial time (about 4 am).
Akbar was curious beyond belief. He agreed to all of Tansens's suggestions.
Very early the following morning they left the palace for the forest. Leaving the guards at the forest edge they rode on alone. At some distance from a large clearing near the river, they dismounted walked for quite a while finally they and crept up slowly behind some bushes from where they could spy and eavesdrop on a small cottage.
In a short while they heard the most fantastic and melodious songs. The Swami ji had arisen and started bathing and recitation of his prayers. He sang hymns with such divine devotion that Akbar was captivated.
After an enthralling hour the hermit felt silent having begun his meditation. The couple reluctantly crept away and rode back home.
On his return the emperor summoned Tansen and said " You are marvellous, but tell me, when you are your Guru ji's student, why can your voice not evoke the same feeling within me?"
Tansen bowed his head and said " Your majesty, I sing for your pleasure. I seek rewards and gifts from you. My song and poems are corrupted by the need for your appreciation.” “My teacher seeks no gain. He is filled with emotion which he expresses in his singing for his own pleasure and the praise of God".
Tansen concluded “ His song is rich because it is true and a reflection of the overflowing love and joy he feels.”
The emperor understood and he felt humbled. He gifted Tansen handsomely for a valuable lesson.
The lesson.
The stream gurgles musically. The birds sing and chirp melodiously because they are happy. The wind wafts and whistles through the forest without hesitation. They all do this without care of who will listen and who will appreciate them. They sing because it is their nature and they are happy. They are the way God has made them.
We human beings can also be happy if we choose to be.
However we often sacrifice our happiness by constantly seeking approval from others for our talent, our actions and even our thoughts.
If our actions do not harm others and make us happy we should pursue them.
Sing because we are happy, play because we want to, write stories, poetry and whatever we choose because that allows us to reach into the depths of our intellect and soul. To actually discover ourselves and to live.
Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul…
What Is Inspiration?
For decades, Anders Ericsson has reminded us of the value of hard work. The Florida State psychologist did the research that led to the so-called 10,000-hour rule. In his informative new book, “Peak,” he and co-author Robert Pool downplay the importance of native-born genius (even in people like Mozart) and emphasize the importance of deliberate practice — painstaking exercises to perfect some skill.
Anybody who has observed excellence knows that Ericsson is basically right. Dogged work is the prerequisite of success. Yet there are some moments — after much steady work and after the technical skills have been mastered — when the mind and spirit take flight. We call these moments of inspiration. They kind of steal upon you, longed for and unexpected.
Inspiration is a much-used, domesticated, amorphous and secular word for what is actually a revolutionary, countercultural and spiritual phenomenon. But what exactly is inspiration? What are we talking about when we use that term?
Well, moments of inspiration don’t quite make sense by normal logic. They feel transcendent, uncontrollable and irresistible. When one is inspired, time disappears or alters its pace. The senses are amplified. There may be goose bumps or shivers down the spine, or a sense of being overawed by some beauty.
Inspiration is always more active than mere appreciation. There’s a thrilling feeling of elevation, a burst of energy, an awareness of enlarged possibilities. The person in the grip of inspiration has received, as if by magic, some new perception, some holistic understanding, along with the feeling that she is capable of more than she thought.
Vladimir Nabokov believed that inspiration comes in phases. First, he wrote, there’s the “prefatory glow,” the feeling of “tickly well-being” that banishes all awareness of physical discomfort. The feeling does not yield its secret just yet, but a window has been opened and some wind has blown in.
Then, a few days later, Nabokov continued, the writer “forefeels what he is going to tell.” There’s an instant vision, the lightning bolt of inspiration, that turns into rapid speech, and a “tumble of merging words” that form the nucleus of a work that will grow from it over the ensuing months or years.
Inspired work stands apart from normal life. In the first place it’s not about self-interest as normally understood. It’s not driven by a desire for money or grades or status. The inspired person is driven intrinsically by the work itself. The work takes hold of a person.
Inspiration is not earned. Your investment of time and effort prepares you for inspiration, but inspiration is a gift that goes beyond anything you could have deserved.
Inspiration is not something you can control. People who are inspired have lost some agency. They often feel that something is working through them, some power greater than themselves. The Greeks said it was the Muses. Believers might say it is God or the Holy Spirit. Others might say it is something mysterious bursting forth deep in the unconscious, a new way of seeing.
Inspiration does not happen to autonomous individuals. It’s a beautiful contagion that passes through individuals. The word itself comes from the Latin inspirare, meaning “to breath into.” One inspiring achievement — say, the space program — has a tendency to raise the sense of possibility in others — say, a little boy who dreams of being an astronomer. Then the one who is inspired performs his own feats and inspires others, and so on down the line.
Inspiration is not permanent and solid. It’s powerful but ephemeral, which is why so many people compare it to a gust of wind. And when it is gone people long for its return.
The poet Christian Wiman wrote that inspiration is “intrusive, transcendent, transformative, but also evanescent and, all too often, anomalous. A poem can leave its maker at once more deeply seized by existence and, in a profound way, alienated from it, for as the act of making ends, as the world that seemed to overbrim its boundaries becomes, once more, merely the world, it can be very difficult to retain any faith at all in that original moment of inspiration. That memory of that momentary blaze, in fact, and the art that issued from it, can become a kind of reproach to the fireless life in which you find yourself most of the time.”
Most important, inspiration demands a certain posture, the sort of posture people feel when they are overawed by something large and mysterious. They are both humbled and self-confident, surrendering and also powerful. When people are inspired they are willing to take a daring lark toward something truly great. They’re brave enough to embrace the craggy fierceness of the truth and to try to express it in some new way.
Yes, hard work is really important for achievement. But life is more mysterious than just that.
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/15/opini ... 05309&_r=0
[/b]
For decades, Anders Ericsson has reminded us of the value of hard work. The Florida State psychologist did the research that led to the so-called 10,000-hour rule. In his informative new book, “Peak,” he and co-author Robert Pool downplay the importance of native-born genius (even in people like Mozart) and emphasize the importance of deliberate practice — painstaking exercises to perfect some skill.
Anybody who has observed excellence knows that Ericsson is basically right. Dogged work is the prerequisite of success. Yet there are some moments — after much steady work and after the technical skills have been mastered — when the mind and spirit take flight. We call these moments of inspiration. They kind of steal upon you, longed for and unexpected.
Inspiration is a much-used, domesticated, amorphous and secular word for what is actually a revolutionary, countercultural and spiritual phenomenon. But what exactly is inspiration? What are we talking about when we use that term?
Well, moments of inspiration don’t quite make sense by normal logic. They feel transcendent, uncontrollable and irresistible. When one is inspired, time disappears or alters its pace. The senses are amplified. There may be goose bumps or shivers down the spine, or a sense of being overawed by some beauty.
Inspiration is always more active than mere appreciation. There’s a thrilling feeling of elevation, a burst of energy, an awareness of enlarged possibilities. The person in the grip of inspiration has received, as if by magic, some new perception, some holistic understanding, along with the feeling that she is capable of more than she thought.
Vladimir Nabokov believed that inspiration comes in phases. First, he wrote, there’s the “prefatory glow,” the feeling of “tickly well-being” that banishes all awareness of physical discomfort. The feeling does not yield its secret just yet, but a window has been opened and some wind has blown in.
Then, a few days later, Nabokov continued, the writer “forefeels what he is going to tell.” There’s an instant vision, the lightning bolt of inspiration, that turns into rapid speech, and a “tumble of merging words” that form the nucleus of a work that will grow from it over the ensuing months or years.
Inspired work stands apart from normal life. In the first place it’s not about self-interest as normally understood. It’s not driven by a desire for money or grades or status. The inspired person is driven intrinsically by the work itself. The work takes hold of a person.
Inspiration is not earned. Your investment of time and effort prepares you for inspiration, but inspiration is a gift that goes beyond anything you could have deserved.
Inspiration is not something you can control. People who are inspired have lost some agency. They often feel that something is working through them, some power greater than themselves. The Greeks said it was the Muses. Believers might say it is God or the Holy Spirit. Others might say it is something mysterious bursting forth deep in the unconscious, a new way of seeing.
Inspiration does not happen to autonomous individuals. It’s a beautiful contagion that passes through individuals. The word itself comes from the Latin inspirare, meaning “to breath into.” One inspiring achievement — say, the space program — has a tendency to raise the sense of possibility in others — say, a little boy who dreams of being an astronomer. Then the one who is inspired performs his own feats and inspires others, and so on down the line.
Inspiration is not permanent and solid. It’s powerful but ephemeral, which is why so many people compare it to a gust of wind. And when it is gone people long for its return.
The poet Christian Wiman wrote that inspiration is “intrusive, transcendent, transformative, but also evanescent and, all too often, anomalous. A poem can leave its maker at once more deeply seized by existence and, in a profound way, alienated from it, for as the act of making ends, as the world that seemed to overbrim its boundaries becomes, once more, merely the world, it can be very difficult to retain any faith at all in that original moment of inspiration. That memory of that momentary blaze, in fact, and the art that issued from it, can become a kind of reproach to the fireless life in which you find yourself most of the time.”
Most important, inspiration demands a certain posture, the sort of posture people feel when they are overawed by something large and mysterious. They are both humbled and self-confident, surrendering and also powerful. When people are inspired they are willing to take a daring lark toward something truly great. They’re brave enough to embrace the craggy fierceness of the truth and to try to express it in some new way.
Yes, hard work is really important for achievement. But life is more mysterious than just that.
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/15/opini ... 05309&_r=0
[/b]
Dream Me a River
A nocturnal vision revealed what led me into psychiatry in the first place.
MY schedule was packed with therapy patients back to back until 7 p.m. I wanted to make sure that everyone was seen and everything was taken care of before I left for vacation: medications refilled, phone calls returned, medical documentation completed. I was in a state of flow. Then I got a call from a former patient’s wife, informing me he had died. It stopped me.
Andrew had been an athletic and charismatic civil engineer in his early 40s, married with two young children. He came to see me for a drug addiction, which had started innocuously in his mid-30s with some occasional recreational use. Over the years his use increased until it consumed most of his life. A month before he came to see me, he had lost his job, and his wife was threatening divorce.
I started him on medication and he began attending an intensive outpatient treatment program. He stopped using, and within three weeks of treatment he accepted a job that would take him out of New York, to Maryland, half of the week. This meant he would be leaving his daily treatment program. I advised against this because it was so early in his recovery. He said he didn’t think it would be a problem: He would make sure to come to his weekly sessions and he would attend 12-step meetings. I felt very uneasy. My experience had been that this sort of thing was what led people to ease out of treatment into relapse. I shared my concerns. He nodded with a gentle smile. My words had no effect on him. I felt it in my core.
Eventually he started missing our sessions. Then one day he came in to tell me that it would be his last visit. He said that he was going to follow up with a new doctor who was a better fit for him.
It was five months after that visit when I received the call from his wife. Andrew, I learned, never followed up with the other doctor, and stopped every form of treatment. Soon he relapsed, and after months of secret drug use, he overdosed. I remembered the pleasant nod he gave me when I voiced my concerns. A profound heaviness descended over me. But as the day went on, I felt better, lifted by the patients who walked into my office to share their stories. It was the best medicine for me.
A few days later, as I rested on a beautiful beach on the southern coast of Brazil, Andrew came to mind like one of the many wispy low clouds blowing into the coast — a mystery, an unarticulated question. I again felt a heaviness. I knew doctors couldn’t save everyone. I had learned that a long time ago. I was sad about Andrew’s death, but I thought that I was at peace with it. Soon I would learn otherwise.
Later that day, a beautiful woman who looked to be in her early 60s started casually talking to me at the beach. She told me she was a spiritual healer and believed that we were all working through the traumas and ailments of our ancestors. She asked me what was my birth order. I told her I was the first born. “The father’s firstborn son comes into the world to work through the issues of his maternal grandfather,” she said. That struck me. My maternal grandfather died from complications of alcoholism when he was 49, before I was born. I had long been aware of the connection between my ending up in the field of addiction treatment and my having an alcoholic grandfather, but I had never felt its emotional resonance until that moment, with the memory of my deceased patient lingering.
After a long evening walk, I found the comfort of my bed and fell into a deep sleep. I dreamed I was in medical school again. I was in a small classroom, seated by a student I did not recognize. He reminded me of an elementary school classmate whose name was also Carlos. I could see in this student’s face that something was distressing him. I had to help him so I said assertively, “We are talking.”
We looked for an empty room so we could speak in private, but each room we found was filled. Eventually we found an empty classroom. As I started to walk in, another student began coming in with a group to do a project. I told her emphatically, “This room is mine.” They left without question. Then my classmate walked in and I followed. When I closed the door, the wall behind him disappeared and gave onto a savage river surrounded by thick tropical vegetation. The river brimmed with gray water rushing forth with relentless force. It looked like the river behind my maternal grandmother’s home in San Sebastián, Puerto Rico, except that this one was fuller and more ferocious.
As soon as the river appeared, the student threw himself in it. I jumped in terror to save him. I was able to wrap my arm around his dangling foot. I began screaming from the top of my lungs, “Ayúdenme, ayúdenme!” which means, “Help me, help me!” in Spanish. The more I screamed, the more he fought me. I could feel his foot slipping away. My screams woke me up. It took me a few moments to catch my breath and realize I was in my hotel in Brazil. I was mystified and shaken.
I eventually went back to sleep, but the dream stayed with me. I’ve thought about it every day since. It exposed a hidden grief for the loss of someone I was incapable of saving. That someone, most recently, was Andrew, yet the sorrow, I now realized, preceded his passing. Trying to cope with that old unconscious grief was no doubt what led me to treat addiction, and into psychiatry in the first place, the hope of having the power to change someone immutable. I thought about my mother, who had studied social work, motivated by her desire to help alcoholics like her father, whom she couldn’t stop from dying.
It was all becoming clear: My mother had transmitted to me unconsciously her desire to save her father and entrusted me also with taking on his pain — just as the spiritual healer said. The figure that jumped into the river represented not only Andrew and my grandfather, but also me. I had my own pain, which had led me into my own psychoanalysis years before. The dream suggested that I was afraid that the current of my powerful feelings would sweep me away the way it did Andrew and my grandfather.
The dream was a reminder that I can’t rescue anyone from his or her feelings, not myself or my patients. I can only learn to live with my own and be an instrument for my patients to do the same if they so choose.
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/05/24/opini ... 87722&_r=0
A nocturnal vision revealed what led me into psychiatry in the first place.
MY schedule was packed with therapy patients back to back until 7 p.m. I wanted to make sure that everyone was seen and everything was taken care of before I left for vacation: medications refilled, phone calls returned, medical documentation completed. I was in a state of flow. Then I got a call from a former patient’s wife, informing me he had died. It stopped me.
Andrew had been an athletic and charismatic civil engineer in his early 40s, married with two young children. He came to see me for a drug addiction, which had started innocuously in his mid-30s with some occasional recreational use. Over the years his use increased until it consumed most of his life. A month before he came to see me, he had lost his job, and his wife was threatening divorce.
I started him on medication and he began attending an intensive outpatient treatment program. He stopped using, and within three weeks of treatment he accepted a job that would take him out of New York, to Maryland, half of the week. This meant he would be leaving his daily treatment program. I advised against this because it was so early in his recovery. He said he didn’t think it would be a problem: He would make sure to come to his weekly sessions and he would attend 12-step meetings. I felt very uneasy. My experience had been that this sort of thing was what led people to ease out of treatment into relapse. I shared my concerns. He nodded with a gentle smile. My words had no effect on him. I felt it in my core.
Eventually he started missing our sessions. Then one day he came in to tell me that it would be his last visit. He said that he was going to follow up with a new doctor who was a better fit for him.
It was five months after that visit when I received the call from his wife. Andrew, I learned, never followed up with the other doctor, and stopped every form of treatment. Soon he relapsed, and after months of secret drug use, he overdosed. I remembered the pleasant nod he gave me when I voiced my concerns. A profound heaviness descended over me. But as the day went on, I felt better, lifted by the patients who walked into my office to share their stories. It was the best medicine for me.
A few days later, as I rested on a beautiful beach on the southern coast of Brazil, Andrew came to mind like one of the many wispy low clouds blowing into the coast — a mystery, an unarticulated question. I again felt a heaviness. I knew doctors couldn’t save everyone. I had learned that a long time ago. I was sad about Andrew’s death, but I thought that I was at peace with it. Soon I would learn otherwise.
Later that day, a beautiful woman who looked to be in her early 60s started casually talking to me at the beach. She told me she was a spiritual healer and believed that we were all working through the traumas and ailments of our ancestors. She asked me what was my birth order. I told her I was the first born. “The father’s firstborn son comes into the world to work through the issues of his maternal grandfather,” she said. That struck me. My maternal grandfather died from complications of alcoholism when he was 49, before I was born. I had long been aware of the connection between my ending up in the field of addiction treatment and my having an alcoholic grandfather, but I had never felt its emotional resonance until that moment, with the memory of my deceased patient lingering.
After a long evening walk, I found the comfort of my bed and fell into a deep sleep. I dreamed I was in medical school again. I was in a small classroom, seated by a student I did not recognize. He reminded me of an elementary school classmate whose name was also Carlos. I could see in this student’s face that something was distressing him. I had to help him so I said assertively, “We are talking.”
We looked for an empty room so we could speak in private, but each room we found was filled. Eventually we found an empty classroom. As I started to walk in, another student began coming in with a group to do a project. I told her emphatically, “This room is mine.” They left without question. Then my classmate walked in and I followed. When I closed the door, the wall behind him disappeared and gave onto a savage river surrounded by thick tropical vegetation. The river brimmed with gray water rushing forth with relentless force. It looked like the river behind my maternal grandmother’s home in San Sebastián, Puerto Rico, except that this one was fuller and more ferocious.
As soon as the river appeared, the student threw himself in it. I jumped in terror to save him. I was able to wrap my arm around his dangling foot. I began screaming from the top of my lungs, “Ayúdenme, ayúdenme!” which means, “Help me, help me!” in Spanish. The more I screamed, the more he fought me. I could feel his foot slipping away. My screams woke me up. It took me a few moments to catch my breath and realize I was in my hotel in Brazil. I was mystified and shaken.
I eventually went back to sleep, but the dream stayed with me. I’ve thought about it every day since. It exposed a hidden grief for the loss of someone I was incapable of saving. That someone, most recently, was Andrew, yet the sorrow, I now realized, preceded his passing. Trying to cope with that old unconscious grief was no doubt what led me to treat addiction, and into psychiatry in the first place, the hope of having the power to change someone immutable. I thought about my mother, who had studied social work, motivated by her desire to help alcoholics like her father, whom she couldn’t stop from dying.
It was all becoming clear: My mother had transmitted to me unconsciously her desire to save her father and entrusted me also with taking on his pain — just as the spiritual healer said. The figure that jumped into the river represented not only Andrew and my grandfather, but also me. I had my own pain, which had led me into my own psychoanalysis years before. The dream suggested that I was afraid that the current of my powerful feelings would sweep me away the way it did Andrew and my grandfather.
The dream was a reminder that I can’t rescue anyone from his or her feelings, not myself or my patients. I can only learn to live with my own and be an instrument for my patients to do the same if they so choose.
http://www.nytimes.com/2016/05/24/opini ... 87722&_r=0
39 supposedly 'common facts' that just aren't true
Slide show:
http://www.msn.com/en-ca/lifestyle/fami ... li=AAggNb9
Slide show:
http://www.msn.com/en-ca/lifestyle/fami ... li=AAggNb9
10 Celeb Confessions That Will Make You Never Want to be Famous
Slide show:
http://www.msn.com/en-ca/entertainment/ ... ut#image=1
Slide show:
http://www.msn.com/en-ca/entertainment/ ... ut#image=1