Thoughtful and Inspirational Stories

9/18/13
Thoughtful and inspirational stories
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STORIES TO MAKE YOU THINK

55 thoughtful stories, motivational tales, and pieces of wisdom from around the world
Some of the most memorable lessons in life come from stories - whether these be nursery rhymes
or children's fables read to us by our parents, parables from the Bible or Jewish wisdom tales, or
motivational booklets like "Who Moved My Cheese?" [click here]. I thought that it would be fun
and helpful to collect some of the stories that I've found meaningful and share them with you. Each
new story is added at the top of the page, so visit as often as you like and feel free to e-mail me
your story.
"Tell me a fact and Ill learn. Tell me a truth and Ill believe. But tell me a story
and it will live in my heart forever."
Native American proverb
"All stories teach, whether the storyteller intends them to or not. They teach the
world we create. They teach the morality we live by. They teach it much more
effectively than moral precepts and instructions".
Philip Pullman, author of the "His Dark Materials" trilogy, speaking in 1996
"Everything we know comes in the form of a story, a narrative with a beginning
and end. Delia Smith
s recipes and the handbook of latest version of Windows
are stories just as much as 'Coronation Street'. A thing becomes meaningful only
when we can embed it in a story."
Dorothy Rowe, "The Independent on Sunday", 31 March 1996
"Human beings are meaning-seeking creatures; we crave narratives that have a
beginning and an end - something that we rarely encounter in everyday life.
Stories give coherence to the confusion of our experience."
Author Karen Armstrong, "Guardian", 26 August 2006
"Stories are memory aids, instruction manuals and moral compasses."
Aleks Krotoski, "Observer", 7 August 2011
"Stories are compensatory. The world is unfair, unjust, unknowable, out of
control."
"Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?" by Jeannette Winterson (2011)
"Telling stories is our way of coping, a way of creating shape out of a mess. It
binds everyone together."
Canadian film director Sarah Polley, "Observer", 23 June 2013
Contents
The law of the garbage truck
www.rogerdarlington.me.uk/stories.html
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The two hospital patients

The tiger's whisker
The hedgehogs
The fence
Your influence on the universe
A turn of the screw
Every bucket counts
Two frogs in the milk
A story for Passover
Piece of mind
Jumping the queue
Knowledge and wisdom
The starfish
The American dream
Alexander and Diogenes
Testing for gossip
Rafting
The mouse trap
A foot has no nose
From Russia with love
Virtually no competition
The little wave
Believe what you feel
Everyone can play
I must at least try
King Arthur and the witch
Helping hands
The teacher and the taught
Going the extra mile
Who you are
Different perspectives
The eagle
The three races
The obstacle in our path
Bad by name; bad by nature?
Everyone is important
The carrot, the egg, and the coffee
bean
The two wolves
The great fire and the little water
A sense of a goose
The seeker of truth
A meeting of minds
Chopsticks
The problem with dandelions
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In the same boat

The frogs and the tower
The international food shortage
The Japanese master
The secret of happiness
The house with the golden windows
Nothing is written
The Chinese farmer
King Solomon and the baby
The wise teacher and the jar
Listening - at Christmas and always
The law of the garbage truck
One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the
right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of
us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just
inches!
The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi
driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly. So I
asked, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the
hospital!' This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, 'The Law of the
Garbage Truck'.
He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of
garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage
piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. Don't
take it personally, just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their
garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets.
The two hospital patients
Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed
to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His
bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat
on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families,
their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been
on holiday.
And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would
pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the
window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his
world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and colour of the world
outside.
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The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the
water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst
flowers of every colour of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape and a
fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.
As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other
side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.
One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.
Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it in his mind's eye as the
gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Days and weeks
passed.
One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the
lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was
saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away. As soon as it
seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.
The nurse was happy to make the switch and, after making sure he was comfortable,
she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his
first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself.
He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.
It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his
deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.
The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She
said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."
The tiger's whisker
Once upon a time, a young wife named Yun Ok was at her wit's end. Her husband
had always been a tender and loving soulmate before he had left for the wars but, ever
since he returned home, he was cross, angry, and unpredictable. She was almost
afraid to live with her own husband. Only in glancing moments did she catch a shadow
of the husband she used to know and love.
When one ailment or another bothered people in her village, they would often rush for
a cure to a hermit who lived deep in the mountains. Not Yun Ok. She always prided
herself that she could heal her own troubles. But this time was different. She was
desperate.
As Yun Ok approached the hermit's hut, she saw the door was open. The old man
said without turning around: "I hear you. What's your problem?"
She explained the situation. His back still to her, he said, "Ah yes, it's often that way
when soldiers return from the war. What do you expect me to do about it?"
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"Make me a potion!" cried the young wife. "Or an amulet, a drink, whatever it takes
to get my husband back the way he used to be."
The old man turned around. "Young woman, your request doesn't exactly fall into the
same category as a broken bone or ear infection."
"I know", said she.
"It will take three days before I can even look into it. Come back then."
Three days later, Yun Ok returned to the hermit's hut. "Yun Ok", he greeted her with
a smile, "I have good news. There is a potion that will restore your husband to the
way he used to be, but you should know that it requires an unusual ingredient. You
must bring me a whisker from a live tiger."
"What?" she gasped. "Such a thing is impossible!"
"I cannot make the potion without it!" he shouted, startling her. He turned his back.
"There is nothing more to say. As you can see, I'm very busy."
That night Yun Ok tossed and turned. How could she get a whisker from a live tiger?
The next day before dawn, she crept out of the house with a bowl of rice covered
with meat sauce. She went to a cave on the mountainside where a tiger was known to
live. She clicked her tongue very softly as she crept up, her heart pounding, and
carefully set the bowl on the grass. Then, trying to make as little noise as she could,
she backed away.
The next day before dawn, she took another bowl of rice covered with meat sauce to
the cave. She approached the same spot, clicking softly with her tongue. She saw that
the bowl was empty, replaced the empty one with a fresh one, and again left, clicking
softly and trying not to break twigs or rustle leaves, or do anything else to startle and
unsettle the wild beast.
So it went, day after day, for several months. She never saw the tiger (thank goodness
for that! she thought) though she knew from footprints on the ground that the tiger and not a smaller mountain creature - had been eating her food. Then one day as she
approached, she noticed the tiger's head poking out of its cave. Glancing downward,
she stepped very carefully to the same spot and with as little noise as she could, set
down the fresh bowl and, her heart pounding, picked up the one that was empty.
After a few weeks, she noticed the tiger would come out of its cave as it heard her
footsteps, though it stayed a distance away (again, thank goodness! she thought,
though she knew that someday, in order to get the whisker, she'd have to come closer
to it).
Another month went by. Then the tiger would wait by the empty food bowl as it heard
her approaching. As she picked up the old bowl and replaced it with a fresh one, she
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could smell its scent, as it could surely smell hers.

"Actually", she thought, remembering its almost kittenish look as she set down a fresh
bowl, "it is a rather friendly creature, when you get to know it." The next time she
visited, she glanced up at the tiger briefly and noticed what a lovely downturn of
reddish fur it had from over one of its eyebrows to the next. Not a week later, the
tiger allowed her to gently rub its head, and it purred and stretched like a house cat.
Then she knew the time had come. The next morning, very early, she brought with her
a small knife. After she set down the fresh bowl and the tiger allowed her to pet its
head, she said in a low voice: "Oh, my tiger, may I please have just one of your
whiskers?" While petting the tiger with one hand, she held one whisker at its base and,
with the other hand, in one quick stroke, she carved the whisker off. She stood up,
speaking softly her thanks, and left, for the last time.
The next morning seemed endless. At last her husband left for the rice fields. She ran
to the hermit's hut, clutching the precious whisker in her fist. Bursting in, she cried to
the hermit: "I have it! I have the tiger's whisker!"
"You don't say?" he said, turning around. "From a live tiger?"
"Yes!" she said.
"Tell me", said the hermit, interested. "How did you do it?"
Yun Ok told the hermit how, for the last six months, she had earned the trust of the
creature and it had finally permitted her to cut off one of its whiskers. With pride she
handed him the whisker. The hermit examined it, satisfied himself that it was indeed a
whisker from a live tiger, then flicked it into the fire where it sizzled and burned in an
instant.
"Yun Ok", the hermit said softly, "you no longer need the whisker. Tell me, is a man
more vicious than a tiger? If a dangerous wild beast will respond to your gradual and
patient care, do you think a man will respond any less willingly?"
Yun Ok stood speechless. Then she turned and stepped down the trail, turning over in
her mind images of the tiger and of her husband, back and forth. She knew what she
could do.
Source: Korean fable
The hedgehogs
It was the coldest winter ever. Many animals died because of the cold.
The hedgehogs, realizing the situation, decided to group together to keep warm. This
way they covered and protected themselves; but the quills of each one wounded their
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closest companions.
After awhile, they decided to distance themselves one from the other and they began
to die, alone and frozen. So they had to make a choice: either accept the quills of their
companions or disappear from the Earth.
Wisely, they decided to go back to being together. They learned to live with the little
wounds caused by the close relationship with their companions in order to receive the
heat that came from the others. This way they were able to survive.
The best relationship is not the one that brings together perfect people, but when each
individual learns to live with the imperfections of others and can admire the other
person's good qualities.
The fence
There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails
and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the fence.
The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks as
he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily, gradually
dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those
nails into the fence.
Finally the day came when the boy didnt lose his temper at all. He told his father
about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that
he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able
to tell his father that all the nails were gone.
The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said you have done
well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same.
When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife
in a man and draw it out. It wont matter how many times you say Im sorry, the
wound is still there. Make sure you control your temper the next time you are tempted
to say something you will regret later.
Your influence on the universe
I read the first chapter of "A Brief History Of Time" when Dad was still alive, and I
got incredibly heavy boots about how relatively insignificant life is, and how,
compared to the universe and compared to time, it didn't even matter if I existed at all.
When Dad was tucking me in that night and we were talking about the book, I asked
if he could think of a solution to that problem. "What problem?" "The problem of how
relatively insignificant we are."
He said, "Well, what would happen if a plane dropped you in the middle of the Sahara
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Desert and you picked up a single grain of sand with tweezers and moved it one
millimetre?" I said, "I'd probably die of dehydration." He said, "I just mean right then,
when you moved that single grain of sand. What would that mean?"
I said, "I dunno, what?" He said. "Think about it." I thought about it. "I guess I would
have moved a grain of sand." "Which would mean?" "Which would mean I moved a
grain of sand?" "Which would mean you changed the Sahara."
"So?" "So?" So the Sahara is a vast desert. And it has existed for million of years.
And you changed it!" "That's true!" I said, sitting up. "I changed the Sahara!"
"Which means?" he said. "What? Tell me." "Well, I'm not talking about painting the
Mona Lisa or curing cancer. I'm just talking about moving that one grain of sand one
millimetre."
"Yeah?" "If you hadn't done it, human history would have been one way ..." "Uhhuh?" "But, you did do it, so ...?"
I stood on the bed, pointed my fingers at the fake stars, and screamed: "I changed the
universe!" "You did."
Source: "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close" by Jonathan Safran Foer
A turn of the screw
There was an industrialist whose production line inexplicably breaks down, costing
him millions per day. He finally tracks down an expert who takes out a screwdriver,
turns one screw, and then - as the factory cranks back to life - presents a bill for
10,000.
Affronted, the factory owner demands an itemised version. The expert is happy to
oblige: "For turning a screw: 1. For knowing which screw to turn: 9,999."
Author: Oliver Burkeman in "The Guardian Weekend", 13 August 2011
Every bucket counts
Once day, having learned that the King of Fez was hunting lions in the neighbourhood,
they decided to invite him and his court, and killed a number of sheep in his honour.
The sovereign had dinner and went to bed. Wishing to show their generosity, they
placed a huge goatskin bottle before his door and agreed to fill it up with milk for the
royal breakfast.
The villagers all had to milk their goats and then each of them had to tip his bucket into
the container. Given its great size, each of them said to himself that he might just as
well dilute his milk with a good quantity of water without anyone noticing.
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To the extent that, in the morning, such a thin liquid was poured out for the king and
his court that it had no taste than the taste of meanness and greed.
Source: "Leo The African" by Amin Maalouf
Two frogs in the milk
This is the story of two frogs. One frog was fat and the other skinny. One day, while
searching for food, they inadvertently jumped into a vat of milk. They couldn't get out,
as the sides were too slippery, so they were just swimming around.
The fat frog said to the skinny frog, "Brother frog, there's no use paddling any longer.
We're just going to drown, so we might as well give up." The skinny frog replied,
"Hold on brother, keep paddling. Somebody will get us out." And they continued
paddling for hours.
After a while, the fat frog said, "Brother frog, there's no use. I'm becoming very tired
now. I'm just going to stop paddling and drown. It's Sunday and nobody's working.
We're doomed. There's no possible way out of here." But the skinny frog said, "Keep
trying. Keep paddling. Something will happen, keep paddling." Another couple of
hours passed.
The fat frog said, "I can't go on any longer. There's no sense in doing it because we're
going to drown anyway. What's the use?" And the fat frog stopped. He gave up. And
he drowned in the milk. But the skinny frog kept on paddling.
Ten minutes later, the skinny frog felt something solid beneath his feet. He had churned
the milk into butter and he hopped out of the vat.
Author: Melissa D Zartman
A story for Passover
A good Passover story should always involve cakes. Austrian baker Manfred
Klaschka is the subject of this year
s story. He was in the news because of his most
recent catalogue of cake designs; Klaschka is a pastry specialist.
Of course, Austrian pastries are famous the world over. Now, pastry baker Manfred
Klaschka
s most recent catalogue of such tasty delights was in the news this week
because it included cakes decorated with swastikas
as well as one with a baby raising
its right arm in a Nazi salute.
Herr Klaschka insists he is not a Nazi. After the news story broke, he even met with a
Holocaust awareness group, and apologized for what he had done, and he then baked
a cake to say he was sorry
a cake with Jewish and Christian symbols. The point of
the story
the bit I found interesting
is Herr Klaschka
s explanation for what he did.
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"I see it was a mistake, anyone who knows me knows what kind of person I am. I am
no Nazi", said Klaschka, who had earlier said he was just a pastry maker fulfilling his
customers
wishes. Fulfilling his customers
wishes? There is a market in Austria in
2011 for cakes with babies raising their arms in Nazi salutes, cakes with swastikas on
them? There are parties where people serve such cakes? Maybe birthday parties for
babies?
Of course there are such people, and there are such parties, and because of that,
there is a market
there is consumer demand
for swastika cakes. Which is why Herr
Klaschka was happy to bake them. And not only in Austria.
You may remember the case of the Campbell family from New Jersey.
When Kurt Waldheim was exposed as a war criminal his popularity rose. The neoNazi Freedom Party headed by the late Jorg Haider, won 27% of the vote in the
2000 elections and became part of the coalition government
the first time since 1945
that Nazis had sat in a European government.
But this never happened in New Jersey
which is why I want to talk about the
Campbell family. The Campbell family in New Jersey made the news back in 2008
when they tried to get a birthday cake made for their son
they have a son and two
daughters
at the local Shop Rite in Holland Township.The store refused their request.
And the reason was that Mr. Campbell wanted the cake to read "Happy birthday
Adolf Hitler". Because, you see, his son
s name was Adolf Hitler Campell. One of the
daughters is named is named JoyceLynn Aryan Nation Campbell. Well, you get the
point.
When I read about the Austrian baker Manfred Klaschka, I thought
here was a
marketing opportunity for him. He would have happily baked a cake for the Campbell
family. So what does all this have to do with Passover?
This week, when we are forbidden to eat Sachertore or Linzer tort or even the
delightfully named Punschkrapfen, we might want to pause and think about something
we say every year at the Passover seder: 'In every generation it is the duty of man to
consider himself as if he had come forth from Egypt'.
Because in this generation, as in all others, there are those who order custom-made
swastika cakes. There are those who name their children after Adolf Hitler. And there
are others who fire anti-tank missiles at school busses with Jewish children in them.
Because there are those who are building nuclear weapons, having told the world that
their intention is to wipe the Jewish state off the face of the earth. Because people like
that make Pharaoh look like a nice guy. Because getting out of the house of bondage,
out of slavery in Egypt, was not the end of the story for the Jewish people, but was
the beginning.
It is a story of a never-ending struggle for freedom, for dignity, for respect, for human
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rights, that has universal resonance and meaning

for all people, everywhere, always.
Source: Eric Lee
Peace of mind
Once Buddha was walking from one town to another town with a few of his
followers. This was in the initial days. While they were travelling, they happened to
pass a lake. They stopped there and Buddha told one of his disciples,
I am thirsty. Do
get me some water from that lake there.
The disciple walked up to the lake. When he reached it, he noticed that some people
were washing clothes in the water and, right at that moment, a bullock cart started
crossing through the lake. As a result, the water became very muddy, very turbid. The
disciple thought,
How can I give this muddy water to Buddha to drink!
So he came
back and told Buddha,
The water in there is very muddy. I don
t think it is fit to drink.
After about half an hour, again Buddha asked the same disciple to go back to the lake
and get him some water to drink. The disciple obediently went back to the lake. This
time he found that the lake had absolutely clear water in it. The mud had settled down
and the water above it looked fit to be had. So he collected some water in a pot and
brought it to Buddha.
Buddha looked at the water, and then he looked up at the disciple and said,
See what
you did to make the water clean. You let it be ... and the mud settled down on its own
and you got clear water... Your mind is also like that. When it is disturbed, just let it
be. Give it a little time. It will settle down on its own. You don
t have to put in any
effort to calm it down. It will happen. It is effortless.
What did Buddha emphasize here? He said,
It is effortless.
Having 'peace of mind' is
not a strenuous job; it is an effortless process. When there is peace inside you, that
peace permeates to the outside. It spreads around you and in the environment, such
that people around start feeling that peace and grace.
Jumping the queue
Today, a true tale of heroism that takes place not in a war zone, nor a hospital, but in
Victoria station in London in 2007, during a tube strike. Our hero
a transport
journalist and self-described "big, stocky bloke with a shaven head" named Gareth
Edwards, who first wrote about this experience on the community blog metafilter.com
is standing with other commuters in a long, snaking line for a bus, when a smartly
dressed businessman blatantly cuts in line behind him. (Behind him: this detail matters.)
The interloper proves immune to polite remonstration, whereupon Edwards is seized
by a magnificent idea. He turns to the elderly woman standing behind the queuejumper, and asks her if she'd like to go ahead of him. She accepts, so he asks the
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person behind her, and the next person, and the next
until 60 or 70 people have
moved ahead, Edwards and the seething queue-jumper shuffling further backwards all
the time. The bus finally pulls up, and Edwards hears a shout from the front of the line.
It's the elderly woman, addressing him: "Young man! Do you want to go in front of
me?"
Author: Oliver Burkeman in "The Guardian Weekend", 28 August 2010
Knowledge and wisdom
There is a difference between knowledge and wisdom.
Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit not a vegetable.
Wisdom is knowing not to include it in a fruit salad.
The starfish
Once a man was walking along a beach. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful
day. Off in the distance he could see a person going back and forth between the surf's
edge and and the beach. Back and forth this person went. As the man approached, he
could see that there were hundreds of starfish stranded on the sand as the result of the
natural action of the tide.
The man was stuck by the the apparent futility of the task. There were far too many
starfish. Many of them were sure to perish. As he approached, the person continued
the task of picking up starfish one by one and throwing them into the surf.
As he came up to the person, he said: "You must be crazy. There are thousands of
miles of beach covered with starfish. You can't possibly make a difference." The
person looked at the man. He then stooped down and pick up one more starfish and
threw it back into the ocean. He turned back to the man and said: "It sure made a
difference to that one!"
The American dream
An American businessman was standing at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village
when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several
large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his
fish.
"How long did it take you to catch them?" the American asked.
"Only a little while" the Mexican replied.
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"Why don't you stay out longer and catch more fish?" the American then asked.
"I have enough to support my family's immediate needs" the Mexican said.
"But" the American then asked, "What do you do with the rest of your time?"
The Mexican fisherman said: "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take a
siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and
play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life, senor."
The American scoffed: "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend
more time fishing and with the proceeds you could buy a bigger boat and, with the
proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats. Eventually you would
have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you would
sell directly to the consumers, eventually opening your own can factory. You would
control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small
coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually NYC where
you will run your expanding enterprise."
The Mexican fisherman asked: "But senor, how long will this all take?"
To which the American replied: "15-20 years."
"But what then, senor?"
The American laughed and said: "That's the best part. When the time is right, you
would announce an IPO - an Initial Public Offering - and sell your company stock to
the public and become very rich. You would make millions."
"Millions, senor? Then what?"
The American said slowly: "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing
village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take a siesta with
your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your
guitar with your amigos..."
Alexander and Diogenes
Now when Alexander [the Great] appeared before the Greek leaders in Corinth they
greeted him warmly and paid him lavish compliments- all of them, that is but one. A
funny fellow, a philosopher named Diogenes. He had views not unlike those of the
Buddha. According to him, possessions and all the things we think we need only serve
to distract us and get in the way of our simple enjoyment of life. So he had given away
everything he owned and now sat, almost naked, in a barrel in the market square in
Corinth where he lived, free and independent like a stray dog.
Curious to meet this strange fellow, Alexander went to call on him. Dressed in shining
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armour, the plume on his helmet waving in the breeze, he walked up to the barrel and
said to Diogenes: 'I like you. Let me know your wish and I shall grant it.' Diogenes,
who had until then been comfortably sunning himself, replied: 'Indeed, Sire, I have a
wish.' 'Well, what is it?' 'Your shadow has fallen over me: stand a little less between
me and the sun.' Alexander is said to have been so struck by this that he said: 'If I
weren't Alexander, I should like to be Diogenes.'
Source: "A Little History Of The World" by E.H. Gombrich
Testing for gossip
In ancient Greece, Socrates was reputed to hold knowledge in high esteem. One day
an acquaintance met the great philosopher and said, "Do you know what I just heard
about your friend?"
"Hold on a minute", Socrates replied. "Before telling me anything I'd like you to pass a
little test. It's called the Triple Filter Test."
"Triple filter?"
"That's right", Socrates continued. "Before you talk to me about my friend, it might be
a good idea to take a moment and filter what you're going to say. That's why I call it
the triple filter test. The first filter is Truth. Have you made absolutely sure that what
you are about to tell me is true?"
"No,",the man said, "Actually I just heard about it and ..."
"All right", said Socrates. "So you don't really know if it's true or not. Now let's try the
second filter, the filter of Goodness. Is what you are about to tell me about my friend
something good?"
"No, on the contrary."
"So", Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about him, but you're
not certain it's true. You may still pass the test though, because there's one filter left:
the filter of Usefulness. Is what you want to tell me about my friend going to be
useful to me?"
"No, not really."
"Well", concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither true nor good nor
even useful, why tell it to me at all?"
Rafting
By good fortune, I was able to raft down the Motu River in New Zealand twice
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during the last year. The magnificent four-day journey traverses one of the last
wilderness areas in the North Island.
The first expedition was led by "Buzz", an American guide with a great deal of rafting
experience and many stories to tell of mighty rivers such as the Colorado. With a
leader like Buzz, there was no reason to fear any of the great rapids on the Motu.
The first half day, in the gentle upper reaches, was spent developing teamwork and
co-ordination. Strokes had to be mastered, and the discipline of following commands
without question was essential. In the boiling fury of a rapid, there would be no room
for any mistake. When Buzz bellowed above the roar of the water, an instant reaction
was essential.
We mastered the Motu. In every rapid we fought against the river and we overcame
it. The screamed commands of Buzz were matched only by the fury of our paddles, as
we took the raft exactly where Buzz wanted it to go.
At the end of the journey, there was a great feeling of triumph. We had won. We
proved that we were superior. We knew that we could do it. We felt powerful and
good. The mystery and majesty of the Motu had been overcome.
The second time I went down the Motu. the experience I had gained should have
been invaluable, but the guide on this journey was a very softly spoken Kiwi. It
seemed that it would not even be possible to hear his voice above the noise of the
rapids.
As we approached the first rapid, he never even raised his voice. He did not attempt
to take command of us or the river. Gently and quietly he felt the mood of the river
and watched every little whirlpool. There was no drama and no shouting. There was
no contest to be won. He loved the river.
We sped through each rapid with grace and beauty and, after a day, the river had
become our friend, not our enemy. The quiet Kiwi was not our leader, but only the
person whose sensitivity was more developed than our own. Laughter replaced the
tension of achievement.
Soon the quiet Kiwi was able to lean back and let all of us take turns as leader. A
quiet nod was enough to draw attention to the things our lack of experience prevented
us from seeing. If we made a mistake, then we laughed and it was the next person's
turn.
We began to penetrate the mystery of the Motu. Now, like the quiet Kiwi, we listened
to the river and we looked carefully for all those things we had not even noticed the
first time.
At the end of the journey, we had overcome nothing except ourselves. We did not
want to leave behind our friend, the river. There was no contest, and so nothing had
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been won. Rather we had become one with the river.

It remains difficult to believe that the external circumstances of the two journeys were
similar. The difference was in an attitude and a frame of mind. At the end of the
journey, it seemed that there could be no other way. Given the opportunity to choose
a leader, everyone would have chosen someone like Buzz. At the end of the second
journey, we had glimpsed a very different vision and we felt humble - and intensely
happy.
The mouse trap
A mouse looked through the crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife open a
package. "What food might this contain?" the mouse wondered. He was devastated to
discover it was a mousetrap.
Retreating to the farmyard, the mouse proclaimed the warning: "There is a mousetrap
in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"
The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said "Mr.Mouse, I can tell
this is a grave concern to you, but it is of no consequence to me. I cannot be bothered
by it."
The mouse turned to the pig and told him "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is
a mousetrap in the house!" The pig sympathized, but said "I am so very sorry,
Mr.Mouse, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray. Be assured you are in my
prayers."
The mouse turned to the cow and said "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is a
mousetrap in the house!" The cow said "Wow, Mr. Mouse. I'm sorry for you, but it's
no skin off my nose."
So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer's
mousetrap alone.
That very night a sound was heard throughout the house - like the sound of a
mousetrap catching its prey. The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught. In the
darkness, she did not see it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught.
The snake bit the farmer's wife. The farmer rushed her to the hospital and she returned
home with a fever.
Everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his
hatchet to the farmyard for the soup's main ingredient. But his wife's sickness
continued, so friends and neighbors came to sit with her around the clock. To feed
them, the farmer butchered the pig. The farmer's wife did not get well; she died. So
many! people came for her funeral, the farmer had the cow slaughtered to provide
enough meat for all of them.
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The mouse looked upon it all from his crack in the wall with great sadness. So, the
next time you hear someone is facing a problem and think it doesn't concern you,
remember: when one of us is threatened, we are all at risk. We are all involved in this
journey called life. We must keep an eye out for one another and make an extra effort
to encourage one another. Each of us is a vital thread in another person's tapestry.
A foot has no nose
Of the many interactions I had with my mother those many years ago, one stands out
with clarity. I remember the occasion when mother sent me to the main road, about
twenty yards away from the homestead, to invite a passing group of seasonal workseekers home for a meal. She instructed me to take a container along and collect dry
cow dung for making a fire. I was then to prepare the meal for the group of workseekers.
The thought of making an open fire outside at midday, cooking in a large three-legged
pot in that intense heat, was sufficient to upset even an angel. I did not manage to
conceal my feelings from my mother and, after serving the group, she called me to the
veranda where she usually sat to attend to her sewing and knitting.
Looking straight into my eyes, she daid "Tsholofelo, why did you sulk when I
requested you to prepare a meal for those poor destitute people?" Despite my attempt
to deny her allegation, and using the heat of the fire and the sun as an excuse for my
alleged behaviour, mother, giving me a firm look, said ""Lonao ga lo na nko" - "A foot
has no nose". It means: you cannot detect what trouble may lie ahead of you.
Had I denied this group of people a meal, it may have happened that, in my travels
some time in the future, I found myself at the mercy of those very individuals. As if that
was not enough to shame me, mother continued: "Motho ke motho ka motho yo
mongwe". The literal meaning: "A person is a person because of another person".
Source: "African Wisdom" by Ellen K. Kuzwayo
From Russia with love
When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, the communications trade union for which I
then worked received several delegations from the emergent nations and we ran
courses for them on how market economies operated and how free collective
bargaining was conducted. As is my practice when lecturing to foreign audiences, I
had my visual aids translated into the vernacular, so I used overhead slides in Russian,
although of course I spoke in English and had an interpreter.
I cannot read the cyrillic alphabet and know very little Russian, so I just worked
through my slides in order. However, there came a point when I could tell from the
statistical data on the latest slide that, for the previous ten minutes, I had been
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speaking to the wrong slide. British students would have pointed this out in seconds,
but none of the Russians had said a word.
I was perplexed and asked why nobody had told me that I had been speaking to the
wrong slide. Eventually one brave soul volunteered an answer and the interpreter
translated: "In our country, no one challenges the teacher".
Author: Roger Darlington
Virtually no competition
While professional soccer is still struggling to find a firm foothold in the United States,
in the 1970s the North American Soccer League marked the brave first attempt to
introduce the game to American sports fans. While most teams had only limited
success at best, one did manage to break through to genuine mainstream popularity the New York Cosmos.
It was the brainchild of Steve Ross, a passionate soccer fan who was also a major
executive at Warner Communications.
Max Ross told his son Steve: "In life there are those who work all day, those who
dream all day, and those who spend an hour dreaming before setting to work to fulfil
those dreams. Go into the third category because there's virtually no competition".
Source: "Once In A Lifetime - The Extraordinary Story Of The New York Cosmos"
by Gavin Newsham
The little wave
The story is abut a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time.
He's enjoying the wind and the fresh air - until he notices the other waves in front of
him, crashing against the shore. "My God, this terrible", the wave says. "Look what's
going to happen to me!"
Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to
him: "Why do you look so sad?" The first wave says: "You don't understand! We're
all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn't it terrible?"
The second wave says: "No, you don't understand. You're not a wave, you're part of
the ocean."
Source: "Tuesdays With Morrie" by Mitch Albom
Believe what you feel
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On this day, Morrie says that he has an exercise for us to try. We are to stand, facing
away from our classmates, and fall backward, relying on another student to catch us.
Most of us are uncomfortable with this, and we cannot let go for more than a few
inches before stopping ourselves. We laugh in embarrassment.
Finally, one student, a thin, quiet, dark-haired girl whom I notice almost always wears
bulky, white fisherman sweaters, crosses her arms over her chest, closes her eyes,
leans back, and does not flinch, like one of those Lipton tea commercials where the
model splashes into the pool..
For a moment, I am sure she is going to thump on the floor. At the last instant, her
assigned partner grabs her head and shoulders and yanks her up harshly.
"Whoa!!" several students yell. Some clap. Morrie finally smiles. "You see", he says to
the girl, 'you closed your eyes, That was the difference. Sometimes you cannot believe
what you see, you have to believe what you feel. And if you are ever going to have
other people trust you, you must feel that you can trust them too - even when you're in
the dark. Even when you're falling".
Source: "Tuesdays With Morrie" by Mitch Albom
Everyone can play
At a fundraising dinner for an American school that serves learning disabled
children,the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be
forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he
offered a question:
"When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with
perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot
understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my
son?" The audience was stilled by the query.
The father continued. "I believe,that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally
handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature
presents itself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child."Then he told the
following story:
Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were
playing baseball. Shay asked,"Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew
that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father
also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed
sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his
handicaps.
Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play,
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not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by
six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll
try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning."
Shay struggled over to the team's bench put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his
Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's
joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a
few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a
glove and played in the right field.
Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game
and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In
the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the
bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be
next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?
Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible
because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with
the ball.
However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing the other team
putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the
ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and
Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss
the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a
slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.
The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could
have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that
would have been the end of the game.
Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the head of the first baseman, out of reach
of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run
to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever ran that far but made it to first
base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.
Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!" Catching his breath, Shay
awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to second base.
By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the
smallest guy on their team, who had a chance to be the hero for his team for the first
time. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he
understood the pitcher's intentions and he too intentionally threw the ball high and far
over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners
ahead of him circled the bases toward home.
All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay" Shay reached third base,
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the opposing shortstop ran to help him and turned him in the direction of third base,
and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third" As Shay rounded third, the boys from
both teams and those watching were on their feet were screaming, "Shay, run home!
Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the
"grand slam" and won the game for his team.
That day, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, the boys from
both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world. Shay didn't
make it to another summer and died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero
and making his father so happy and coming home and seeing his mother tearfully
embrace her little hero of the day!
Source: Rabbi Paysach Krohn, a popular lecturer and best-selling author of the
ArtScroll Maggid series of short stories
I must at least try
In June 1985, two British mountaineers Joe Simpson and Simon Yates made the firstever climb of the West Face of the 21,000 foot snow-covered Siula Grande mountain
in Peru. It was an exceptionally tough assault - but nothing compared to what was to
come. Early in the descent, Simpson fell and smashed his right knee. Yates could have
abandoned him but managed to find a way of lowering him down the mountain in a
series of difficult drops blinded by snow and cold. Then Simpson fell into a crevasse
and Yates eventually had no choice but to cut the rope, utterly convinced that his
friend was now dead.
In his subsequent book on the climb entitled "Touching The Void", Joe Simpson
wrote:
"As I gazed at the distant moraines, I knew that I must at least try. I would
probably die out there amid those boulders. The thought didn't alarm me. It
seemed reasonable, matter-of-fact. That was how it was. I could aim for
something. If I died, well, that wasn't so surprising, but I wouldn't have just
waited for it to happen. The horror of dying no longer affected me as it had in
the crevasse. I now had the chance to confront it and struggle against it. It
wasn't a bleak dark terror any more, just fact, like my broken leg and
frostbitten fingers, and I couldn't be afraid of things like that. My leg would hurt
when I fell and when I couldn't get up I would die."
The survival of Yates himself was extraordinary. That Simpson somehow found a way
of climbing out of the crevasse after 12 hours and then literally crawled and dragged
himself six miles back to camp, going three days and nights without food or drink,
losing three stone, and contracting ketoacidosis in the process, would be the stuff of
heroic fiction if it was not so true. Indeed, six operations and two years later, he was
even back climbing. All because, against all the odds, he tried ...
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Source: "Touching The Void" by Joe Simpson

King Arthur and the witch
Young King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighboring
kingdom. The monarch could have killed him but was moved by Arthur's youth and
ideals. So, the monarch offered him his freedom, as long as he could answer a very
difficult question. Arthur would have a year to figure out the answer and, if after a
year, he still had no answer, he would be put to death.
The question?....What do women really want? Such a question would perplex even
the most knowledgeable man, and to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query.
But, since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an
answer by year's end.
He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everyone: the princess, the priests, the
wise men and even the court jester. He spoke with everyone, but no one could give
him a satisfactory answer. Many people advised him to consult the old witch, for only
she would have the answer. But the price would be high; as the witch was famous
throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.
The last day of the year arrived and Arthur had no choice but to talk to the witch She
agreed to answer the question, but he would have to agree to her price first. The old
witch wanted to marry Sir Lancelot, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table
and Arthur's closest friend! Young Arthur was horrified. She was hunchbacked and
hideous, had only one tooth, smelled like sewage, made obscene noises, etc. He had
never encountered such a repugnant creature in all his life.
He refused to force his friend to marry her and endure such a terrible burden; but
Lancelot, learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur. He said nothing was too big of
a sacrifice compared to Arthur's life and the preservation of the Round Table.
Hence, a wedding was proclaimed and the witch answered Arthur's question thus:
What a woman really wants, she answered....is to be in charge of her own life!
Everyone in the kingdom instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and
that Arthur's life would be spared. And so it was, the neighboring monarch granted
Arthur his freedom and Lancelot and the witch had a wonderful wedding.
The honeymoon hour approached and Lancelot, steeling himself for a horrific
experience, entered the bedroom. But, what a sight awaited him. The most beautiful
woman he had ever seen lay before him on the bed. The astounded Lancelot asked
what had happened
The beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her when she appeared as a
witch, she would henceforth, be her horrible deformed self only half the time and the
beautiful maiden the other half. Which would he prefer? Beautiful during the day...or
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night?
Lancelot pondered the predicament. During the day, a beautiful woman to show off to
his friends, but at night, in the privacy of his castle, an old witch? Or, would he prefer
having a hideous witch during the day, but by night, a beautiful woman for him to
enjoy wondrous intimate moments?
Noble Lancelot said that he would allow HER to make the choice herself. Upon
hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time because he had
respected her enough to let her be in charge of her own life.
Helping hands
A mother, wishing to encourage her son's progress at the piano, bought tickets to a
performance by the great Polish pianist Ignace Paderewski. When the evening arrived,
they found their seats near the front of the concert hall and eyed the majestic Steinway
waiting on the stage. Soon the mother found a friend to talk to, and the boy slipped
away.
At eight o'clock, the lights in the auditorium began to dim, the spotlights came on, and
only then did they notice the boy - up on the piano bench, innocently picking out
"Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." His mother gasped in shock and embarassment but,
before she could retrieve her son, the master himself appeared on the stage and
quickly moved to the keyboard.
He whispered gently to the boy, "Don't quit. Keep playing." Leaning over,
Paderewski reached down with his left hand and began filling in the bass part. Soon
his right arm reached around the other side and improvised a delightful obligato.
Together, the old master and the young novice held the crowd mesmerized with their
blended and beautiful music.
In all our lives, we receive helping hands - some we notice, some we don't. Equally
we ourselves have countless opportunites to provide helping hands - sometimes we
would like our assistance to be noticed, sometimes we don't. Little of what we all
achieve is without learning from others and without support from others and what we
receive we should hand out.
The teacher and the taught
A young teacher from an industrial city in the north of England had accepted a
temporary job teaching a class of four-year-olds out in one of the most isolated, rural
parts of north Wales. One of her first lessons involved teaching the letter S so she held
up a big colour photograph of a sheep and said: "Now, who can tell me what this is?"
No answer. Twenty blank and wordless faces looked back at her. "Come on, who
can tell me what this is?" she exclaimed, tapping the photograph determinedly, unable
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to believe that the children were quite so ignorant. The 20 faces became apprehensive
and even fearful as she continued to question them with mounting frustration.
Eventually, one brave soul put up a tiny, reluctant hand. "Yes!" she cried, waving the
snap aloft. "Tell me what you think this is!" "Please, Miss," said the boy warily. "Is it a
three-year-old Border Leicester?"
Source: "Guardian", 2 November 2005
Going the extra mile
I was 20 and had just finished my first degree when I aksed my father's advice on
how to approach the world of work. He had a long and distinguished career in the
Indian Army and rose to become commander-in-chief of a million men. He was a
soldier's soldier and his men adored him. His manner was strict and firm, but he was
very friendly. He appreciated and trusted people and gave then freedom.
"Come and see me in my office if you want to talk to me about work" he said. So I
made an appointment with his ADC and went to see him. He had a huge office and I
felt very small.
"You are starting out and you will be given a lot of tasks to fulfil" he said. "The first
thing is always to do something to the best of your ability. Then the second time you
do it, give it that little bit extra". What he was saying was: "Take the initiative; be
innovative; be creative. Always go the extra mile."
Source: Karan Bilimoria, founder and chief executive of Cobra Beer, speaking to
Sheridan Winn for "Business Life".
Who you are speaks louder to me than anything you can say
At the beginning of my 8:00 a.m. class one Monday at University of Nevada, Las
Vegas (UNLV), I cheerfully asked my students how their weekend had been. One
young man said that his weekend had not been very good. He'd had his wisdom teeth
extracted. The young man then proceeded to ask me why I always seemed to be so
cheerful. His question reminded me of something I'd read somewhere before: "Every
morning when you get up, you have a choice about how you want to approach life
that day", I said to the young man. "I choose to be cheerful". "Let me give you an
example", I continued.
The other 60 students in the class ceased their chatter and began to listen to our
conversation. As soon as I got there, I called AAA and asked them to send a tow
truck. The secretary in the Provost's office asked me what had happened. "This is my
lucky day", I replied, smiling. "Your car breaks down and today is your lucky day??"
She was puzzled. "What do you mean?"
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"I live 17 miles from here", I replied. "My car could have broken down anywhere
along the freeway. It didn't. Instead, it broke down in the perfect place: off the
freeway, within walking distance of here. I'm still able to teach my class, and I've been
able to arrange for the tow truck to meet me after class. If my car was meant to break
down today, it couldn't have been arranged in a more convenient fashion." The
secretary's eyes opened wide, and then she smiled. I smiled back and headed for
class.' So ended my story to the students in my economics class at UNLV.
I scanned the 60 faces in the lecture hall. Despite the early hour, no one seemed to be
asleep. Somehow, my story had touched them. Or maybe it wasn't the story at all. In
fact, it had all started with a student's observation that I was cheerful. A wise man
once said: "Who you are speaks louder to me than anything you can say". I suppose it
must be so.
Author: Lee Ryan Miller - story from his book "Teaching Amidst the Neon Palm
Trees" - for whose website click here.
Different perspectives
The Minister travelled for days by train and car and boat to one of the furthest islands
in the nation. As he surveyed the bleak but inspiring landscape, he turned to a local
villager and said: "You're very remote here, aren't you?" She responded: "Remote
from what?"
The eagle
Once a farmer found an abandoned eagle's nest and in it was an egg still warm. He
took the egg back to his farm and laid it in the nest of one of his hens. The egg
hatched and the baby eagle grew up along with the other chickens. It pecked about
the farmyard, scrabbling for grain. It spent its life within the yard and rarely looked up.
When it was very old, one day it lifted up its head and saw above it a wonderful sight
- an eagle soaring high above in the sky. Looking at it, the old creature sighed and
said to itself, "If only I'd been born an eagle".
Source: an adaptation from an Anthony de Mello story
The three races
In old times, fable retells the story of the young athletic boy hungry for success, for
whom winning was everything and success was measured by such a result.
One day, the boy was preparing himself for a running competition in his small native
village, himself and two other young boys to compete. A large crowd had
congregated to witness the sporting spectacle and a wise old man, upon hearing of the
little boy, had travelled far to bear witness also.
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The race commenced, looking like a level heat at the finishing line, but sure enough the
boy dug deep and called on his determination, strength and power .. he took the
winning line and was first. The crowd was ecstatic and cheered and waved at the boy.
The wise man remained still and calm, expressing no sentiment. The little boy,
however. felt proud and important.
A second race was called, and two new young, fit, challengers came forward, to run
with the little boy. The race was started and sure enough the little boy came through
and finished first once again. The crowd was ecstatic again and cheered and waved at
the boy. The wise man remained still and calm, again expressing no sentiment. The
little boy, however, felt proud and important.
"Another race, another race!" pleaded the little boy. The wise old man stepped
forward and presented the little boy with two new challengers, an elderly frail lady and
a blind man. "What is this?", quizzed the little boy. "This is no race" he exclaimed.
"Race!", said the wise man. The race was started and the boy was the only finisher,
the other two challengers left standing at the starting line. The little boy was ecstatic,
he raised his arms in delight. The crowd, however, was silent showing no sentiment
toward the little boy.
"What has happened? Why not do the people join in my success?" he asked the wise
old man. "Race again", replied the wise man, "...this time, finish together, all three of
you, finish together" continued the wise man. The little boy thought a little, stood in the
middle of the blind man and the frail old lady, and then took the two challengers by the
hand. The race began and the little boy walked slowly, ever so slowly, to the finishing
line and crossed it. The crowd were ecstatic and cheered and waved at the boy. The
wise man smiled, gently nodding his head. The little boy felt proud and important.
"Old man, I understand not! Who are the crowd cheering for? Which one of us
three?", asked the little boy. The wise old man looked into the little boy's eyes, placing
his hands on the boy's shoulders, and replied softly .. "Little boy, for this race you
have won much more than in any race you have ever ran before, and for this race the
crowd cheer not for any winner!"
Author: Darren Edwards
The obstacle in our path
In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and
watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest
merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed
the King for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone
out of the way.
Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the
boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of
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the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. After the peasant
picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the
boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the King
indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the
roadway.
The peasant learned what many of us never understand! Every obstacle presents an
opportunity to improve our condition.
Bad by name; bad by nature?
During Nelson Mandela's 19 years imprisoned on Robben Island, one particular
commanding officer was the most brutal of them all:
"A few days before Badenhorst's departure, I was called to the main office. General
Steyn was visiting the island and wanted to know if we had any complaints.
Badenhorst was there as I went through a list of demands. When I had finished,
Badenhorst spoke to me directly.
He told me he would be leaving the island and added: 'I just want to wish you people
good luck'. I do not know if I looked dumbfounded, but I was amazed. He spoke
these words like a human being and showed a side of himself we had never seen
before. I thanked him for his good wishes and wished him luck in his endeavours.
I thought about this moment for a long time afterwards. Badenhorst had perhaps been
the most callous and barbaric commanding officer we had had on Robben Island. But
that day in the office, he had revealed that that there was another side to his nature, a
side that had been obscured but still existed.
It was a useful reminder that all men, even the most seemingly cold-blooded, have a
core of decency and that, if their hearts are touched, they are capable of changing.
Ultimately, Badenhorst was not evil; his inhumanity had been foisted upon him by an
inhuman system. He behaved like a brute because he was rewarded for brutish
behaviour."
Source: "Long Walk To Fredom" by Nelson Mandela
Everyone is important
During Mark's first month of college, the professor gave his students a pop quiz. He
was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until he read the
last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?" Surely this was
some kind of joke. He had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, darkhaired and in her 50s, but how would he know her name? He handed in his paper,
leaving the last question blank.
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Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward the
quiz grade. "Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers, you will meet many
people. All are significant. They each deserve your attention and care, even if all you
do is smile and say 'hello'". Mark never forgot that lesson. He also learned her name
was Dorothy.
The carrot, the egg, and the coffee bean
A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were
so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give
up. She was tired of fighting and struggling.
It seemed that, as one problem was solved, a new one arose. Her mother took her to
the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the
pots came to a boil. In the first, she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and
in the last she placed ground coffee beans.
She let them sit and boil, without saying a word. In about twenty minutes, she turned
off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the
eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a
bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me, what do you see?"
"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," the young woman replied. The mother brought her closer
and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. She then
asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the
hard-boiled egg. Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she
tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"
Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity boiling water - but each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard and
unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and
became weak.
The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior. But, after
sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened! The ground coffee beans
were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the
water.
"Which are you?" the mother asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your
door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?" Think of
this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong but, with pain and adversity, do I
wilt and become soft and lose my strength? Am I the egg that starts with a malleable
heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit but, after a death, a breakup,
or a financial hardship, does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and
tough with a stiff spirit and a hardened heart? Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean
actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the
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water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavour.

If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the
situation around you. When the hours are the darkest and trials are their greatest, do
you elevate to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg,
or a coffee bean?
The two wolves
A Native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt. He
said, "I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful,
angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one." The grandson
asked him, "Which wolf will win the fight in your heart?" The grandfather answered:
"The one I feed."
The great fire and the little water
Among the Aztec people of Mexico, it is said that a long time ago there was a great
fire in the forests that covered our Earth. People and animals started to run, trying to
escape from the fire. Our brother owl, Tecolotl, was running away also when he
noticed a small bird hurrying back and forth between the nearest river and the fire. He
headed towards this small bird.
He noticed that it was our brother the Quetzal bird, Quetzaltototl, running to the river,
picking up small drops of water in his beak, then returning to the fire to throw that tiny
bit of water on the flame. Owl approached Quetsal bird and yelled at him: "What are
you doing brother? Are you stupid? You are not going to achieve anything by doing
this. What are you trying to do? You must run for your life!"
Quetzal bird stopped for a moment and looked at owl, and then answered: "I am
doing the best I can with what I have."
It is remembered by our Grandparents that a long time ago the forests that covered
our Earth were saved from a great fire by a small Quetzal bird, an owl, and many
other animals and people who got together to put out the fire.
Source: "Turning To One Another" by Margaret Wheatley
A sense of a goose
Next Autumn, when you see geese heading south for the winter, flying in a "V"
formation, you might consider what science has discovered as to why they fly that
way. As each bird flaps its wings, it creates an uplift for the bird immediately
following. By flying in a "V" formation, the whole flock adds at least 71 percent
greater flying range than if each bird flew on its own.
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People who share a common direction and sense of community can get where
they are going more quickly and easily, because they are travelling on the thrust
of one another.
When a goose falls out of formation, it suddenly feels the drag and resistance of trying
to go it alone and quickly gets back into formation to take advantage of the lifting
power of the bird in front.
If we have the sense of a goose, we will stay in formation with those people who
are heading the same way we are.
When the head goose gets tired, it rotates back in the wing and another goose flies
point.
It is sensible to take turns doing demanding jobs, whether with people or with
geese flying south.
Geese honk from behind to encourage those up front to keep up their speed.
What message do we give when we honk from behind?
Finally - and this is important - when a goose gets sick or is wounded by gunshot, and
falls out of the formation, two other geese fall out with that goose and follow it down
to lend help and protection. They stay with the fallen goose until it is able to fly or until
it dies; and only then do they launch out on their own, or with another formation to
catch up with their own group.
If we have the sense of a goose, we will stand by each other like that.
The seeker of truth
After years of searching, the seeker was told to go to a cave, in which he would find a
well. 'Ask the well what is truth', he was advised, 'and the well will reveal it to you'.
Having found the well, the seeker asked that most fundamental question. And from the
depths came the answer, 'Go to the village crossroad: there you shall find what you
are seeking'.
Full of hope and anticipation the man ran to the crossroad to find only three rather
uninteresting shops. One shop was selling pieces of metal, another sold wood, and
thin wires were for sale in the third. Nothing and no one there seemed to have much to
do with the revelation of truth.
Disappointed, the seeker returned to the well to demand an explanation, but he was
told only, 'You will understand in the future.' When the man protested, all he got in
return were the echoes of his own shouts. Indignant for having been made a fool of or so he thought at the time - the seeker continued his wanderings in search of truth.
As years went by, the memory of his experience at the well gradually faded until one
night, while he was walking in the moonlight, the sound of sitar music caught his
attention. It was wonderful music and it was played with great mastery and inspiration.
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Profoundly moved, the truth seeker felt drawn towards the player. He looked at the
fingers dancing over the strings. He became aware of the sitar itself. And then
suddenly he exploded in a cry of joyous recognition: the sitar was made out of wires
and pieces of metal and wood just like those he had once seen in the three stores and
had thought it to be without any particular significance.
At last he understood the message of the well: we have already been given everything
we need: our task is to assemble and use it in the appropriate way. Nothing is
meaningful so long as we perceive only separate fragments. But as soon as the
fragments come together into a synthesis, a new entity emerges, whose nature we
could not have foreseen by considering the fragments alone.
A meeting of minds
Martin was returning to work in his London office after spending two weeks with his
brother over in New York. He was coming back with a heavy heart. It was not just
that it was the end of a wonderful holiday; it was not just that he invariably suffered
badly from jet lag; it was that Monday mornings always began with a team meeting
and, over the months, he had grown to hate them.
Martin was aware that colleagues approached these meetings with hidden agendas;
they indulged in game-playing; and he knew that people were not being honest and
open. The meetings themselves were bad enough - but then there was all the moaning
afterwards. "The usual people saying the usual things". "I could have improved
on that idea, but I wasn't going to say". "I was thinking of making a suggestion
- but I couldn't be bothered".
As this morning's meeting began, Martin braced himself for the usual moroseness and
monotony. But, as the meeting progressed, he became aware of a strange background
noise. At first, he thought that he was still hearing the engine noise from the aircraft that
had brought him back to London - he had had to sit over the wing and the droning
was terrible. But, as he concentrated on the noise, it became a little clearer.
He realised - to his amazement - that he could hear what his colleagues were thinking
as well as what they were saying. As he concentrated still harder, he found that he
could actually hear what they were thinking at the same time as they were speaking.
What surprised him, even more than the acquisition of this strange power, was that he
discovered that what people were saying was not really what they were thinking. They
were not making clear their reservations. They were not supporting views which they
thought might be unpopular. They were not contributing their new insights. They were
not volunteering their new ideas.
Martin found it impossible not to respond to his new knowledge. So he started to
make gentle interventions, based more on what he could hear his colleagues thinking
than on what he could hear them saying. "So, John are you really saying .."
"Susan, Do you really think that
" "Tom, Have you got an idea on how we could
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take this forward?" He was aware that his colleagues were unsettled by how
insightful were these interventions. They looked at him mystified. In truth, he felt rather
proud of his newly-acquired talent.
Emboldened now, Martin forgot his usual misery at participating in such meetings and
began making comments of his own. However, he became aware that some of his
colleagues were looking at him quizzically. One or two even had a gentle smile playing
on their lips. Only gradually did it dawn on him - they could hear his thoughts and he
was not really saying what he was thinking.
As the meeting progressed, Martin became aware of changes to the tone and style of
the event. It was clear to him now that, one by one, each member of the meeting was
learning how to hear the thoughts of all the others and this was subtly changing how
they inter-acted with one another. The game-playing started to fall away; people
started to speak more directly; views became better understood; the atmosphere
became more open and trusting.
The meeting ended. As people left the room, Martin found that he could still hear what
they were thinking. "That was the best meeting we've ever had." "All meetings
should be like that." "In future, I'm going to say what I think".
Chopsticks
A woman who had worked all her life to bring about good was granted one wish:
"Before I die let me visit both hell and heaven." Her wish was granted.
She was whisked off to a great banqueting hall. The tables were piled high with
delicious food and drink. Around the tables sat miserable, starving people as
wretched as could be. "Why are they like this?" she asked the angel who
accompanied her. "Look at their arms," the angel replied. She looked and saw that
attached to the people's arms were long chopsticks secured above the elbow. Unable
to bend their elbows, the people aimed the chopsticks at the food, missed every time
and sat hungry, frustrated and miserable. "Indeed this is hell! Take me away from
here!"
She was then whisked off to heaven. Again she found herself in a great banqueting hall
with tables piled high. Around the tables sat people laughing, contented, joyful. "No
chopsticks I suppose," she said. "Oh yes there are. Look - just as in hell they are long
and attached above the elbow but look... here people have learnt to feed one
another".
The problem with dandelions
A man who took great pride in his lawn found himself with a large crop of dandelions.
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He tried every method he knew to get rid of them. Still they plagued him.
Finally he wrote to the Department of Agriculture. He enumerated all the things he had
tried and closed his letter with the question: "What shall I do now?"
In due course, the reply came: "We suggest you learn to love them."
In the same boat
Two men were out on the ocean in a boat.
One of them began drilling in the bottom of the boat, and the other, aghast said "What
are you doing? Stop drilling!".
And the first man replied: "It's all right. I'm only drilling on my side."
The frogs and the tower
There once was a bunch of tiny frogs...
... who arranged a running competition. The goal was to reach the top of a very high
tower. A big crowd had gathered around the tower to see the race and cheer on the
contestants...
The race began...
Honestly, no-one in crowd really believed that the tiny frogs would reach the top of
the tower. You heard statements such as:
"Oh, WAY too difficult!!"
"They will NEVER make it to the top".
"Not a chance that they will succeed. The tower is too high!"
The tiny frogs began collapsing. One by one...
... Except for those who in a fresh tempo were climbing higher and higher...
The crowd continued to yell
"It is too difficult!!! No one will make it!"
More tiny frogs got tired and gave up...
...But ONE continued higher and higher and higher...
This one wouldn't give up!
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At the end, everyone else had given up climbing the tower. Except for the one tiny
frog who, after a big effort, was the only one who reached the top!
THEN all of the other tiny frogs naturally wanted to know how this one frog managed
to do it?
A contestant asked the tiny frog how the one who succeeded had found the strength
to reach the goal?
It turned out...
That the winner was deaf.
The international food shortage
Recently, a worldwide survey was conducted and the only question asked was:
"Would you please give your honest opinion about the solution to the food shortage in
the rest of the world?"
The survey was, not surprisingly, a huge failure. Because:
In Africa they didn't know what "food" meant.
In Eastern Europe they didn't know what "honest" meant.
In Western Europe they didn't know what "shortage" meant.
In China they didn't know what "opinion" meant.
In the Middle East they didn't know what "solution" meant.
In South America they didn't know what "please" meant.
And, in the USA they didn't know what "the rest of the world" meant.
The Japanese master
A great Japanese master received a university professor who came to enquire about
wisdom. The master served tea. He poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept on
pouring. The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself.
'It is overfull. No more will go in!' 'Like this cup,' the master said, 'you are full of your
own opinions and speculations. How can I show you wisdom unless you first empty
your cup?'
The secret of happiness
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A certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of happiness from the
wisest man in the world. The lad wandered through the desert for 40 days, and finally
came upon a beautiful castle, high atop a mountain. It was there that the wise man
lived.
Rather than finding a saintly man, though, our hero, on entering the main room of the
castle, saw a hive of activity: tradesmen came and went, people were conversing in
the corners, a small orchestra was playing soft music, and there was a table covered
with platters of the most delicious food in that part of the world. The wise man
conversed with everyone, and the boy had to wait for two hours before it was his turn
to be given the man's attention.
The wise man listened attentively to the boy's explanation of why he had come, but
told him that he didn't have time just then to explain the secret of happiness. He
suggested that the boy look around the palace and return in two hours.
"Meanwhile, I want to ask you to do something", said the wise man, handing the boy a
teaspoon that held two drops of oil. "As you wander around, carry this spoon with
you without allowing the oil to spill".
The boy began climbing and descending the many stairways of the palace, keeping his
eyes fixed on the spoon. After two hours, he returned to the room where the wise
man was.
"Well", asked the wise man, "Did you see the Persian tapestries that are hanging in my
dining hall? Did you see the garden that it took the master gardener ten years to
create? Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?"
The boy was embarrassed, and confessed that he had observed nothing. His only
concern had been not to spill the oil that the wise man had entrusted to him.
"Then go back and observe the marvels of my world", said the wise man. "You cannot
trust a man if you don't know his house".
Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his exploration of the palace,
this time observing all of the works of art on the ceilings and the walls. He saw the
gardens, the mountains all around him, the beauty of the flowers, and the taste with
which everything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise man, he related in
detail everything he had seen.
"But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?" asked the wise man. Looking
down at the spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was gone.
"Well, there is only one piece of advice I can give you", said the wisest of wise men.
"The secret of happiness is to see all the marvels of the world and never to forget the
drops of oil on the spoon".
Author: Paul Coelho in "The Alchemist"
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The house with the golden windows

The little girl lived in a small, very simple, poor house on a hill and as she grew she
would play in the small garden and as she grew she was able to see over the garden
fence and across the valley to a wonderful house high on the hill - and this house had
golden windows, so golden and shining that the little girl would dream of how magic it
would be to grow up and live in a house with golden windows instead of an ordinary
house like hers.
And although she loved her parents and her family, she yearned to live in such a
golden house and dreamed all day about how wonderful and exciting it must feel to
live there.
When she got to an age where she gained enough skill and sensibility to go outside her
garden fence, she asked her mother is she could go for a bike ride outside the gate
and down the lane. After pleading with her, her mother finally allowed her to go,
insisting that she kept close to the house and didn't wander too far. The day was
beautiful and the little girl knew exactly where she was heading! Down the lane and
across the valley, she rode her bike until she got to the gate of the golden house
across on the other hill.
As she dismounted her bike and lent it against the gate post, she focused on the path
that lead to the house and then on the house itself...and was so disappointed as she
realised all the windows were plain and rather dirty, reflecting nothing other than the
sad neglect of the house that stood derelict.
So sad she didn't go any further and turned, heart broken as she remounted her bike
... As she glanced up she saw a sight to amaze her...there across the way on her side
of the valley was a little house and its windows glistened golden ...as the sun shone on
her little home.
She realised that she had been living in her golden house and all the love and care she
found there was what made her home the 'golden house'. Everything she dreamed was
right there in front of her nose!
Nothing is written
My all-time favourite film is "Lawrence Of Arabia" and, if I have a favourite scene
from the movie, then I guess it is the one of Lawrence's triumphal return from the
Nefud desert, having gone back to rescue the Arab Gasim. The crossing of the Nefud
desert is considered impossible, even by the local Arabs, but Lawrence persuades
them that, in this way, they can take the Turkish port at Aqaba from the rear.
Having carried out the superhuman feat of traversing this furnace, it is discovered that
one of the Arabs, Gasim, has fallen off his camel and is no doubt dying somewhere
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back in the desert. Lawrence is told that any idea of rescue is futile and, in any event,
Gasim's death is "written". When Lawrence achieves the impossible and returns with
Gasim still alive, Sherif Ali admits to him: "Truly, for some men nothing is written
unless they write it".
As an impressionable teenager when this film was first released, I was stunned by
Lawrence's courage and unselfishness in going back into the hell of the Nefud to
attempt to find a man he hardly knew among the vast expanse of a fiery terrain and I
was so moved by the sense of purpose of a man who is determined to take nothing as
"written" but to shape his own destiny. This sense of anti-determinism and this belief
that anything is possible has stayed with me always and continues to inspire me in
small ways and large.
The Chinese farmer
There is a Chinese story of an old farmer who had an old horse for tilling his fields.
One day the horse escaped into the hills and, when all the farmer's neighbours
sympathised with the old man over his bad luck, the farmer replied, 'Bad luck? Good
luck? Who knows?'
A week later the horse returned with a herd of wild horses from the hills and this time
the neighbours congratulated the farmer on his good luck. His reply was, 'Good luck?
Bad luck? Who knows?'
Then, when the farmer's son was attempted to tame one of the wild horses, he fell off
its back and broke his leg. Everyone thought this very bad luck. Not the farmer,
whose only reaction was, 'Bad luck? Good luck? Who knows?'
Some weeks later the army marched into the village and conscripted every ablebodied youth they found there. When they saw the farmer's son with his broken leg
they let him off. Now was that good luck? Bad luck? Who knows?
King Solomon and the baby
One day, the wise King Solomon was approached by two women arguing over a
baby. Each claimed the child was hers. Unable to judge, King Solomon thought up a
plan - he offered to cut the baby in half, giving half to the one and half to the other.
The first women agreed with the King: "Let the baby be neither mine nor hers, but
divide it. If I can't have the child", she cried, "she can't have it either". The second
women pleaded with Solomon not to hurt the child. "Give her the baby. I'd rather lose
the child that see it slain".
Solomon knew immediately that this was the rightful mother. He returned the baby to
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her.
The wise teacher and the jar
There was once a very wise teacher, whose words of wisdom students would come
from far and wide to hear. One day as usual, many students began to gather in the
teaching room. They came in and sat down very quietly, looking to the front with keen
anticipation, ready to hear what the teacher had to say.
Eventually the teacher came in and sat down in front of the students. The room was so
quiet you could hear a pin drop. On one side of the teacher was a large glass jar. On
the other side was a pile of dark grey rocks. Without saying a word, the teacher
began to pick up the rocks one by one and place them very carefully in the glass jar
(Plonk. Plonk.) When all the rocks were in the jar, the teacher turned to the students
and asked, 'Is the jar full?' 'Yes,' said the students. 'Yes, teacher, the jar is full'.
Without saying a word, the teacher began to drop small round pink pebbles carefully
into the large glass jar so that they fell down between the rocks. (Clickety click.
Clickety click.) When all the pebbles were in the jar, the teacher turned to the
students and asked, 'Is the jar now full?' The students looked at one another and then
some of them started nodding and saying, 'Yes. Yes, teacher, the jar is now full. Yes'.
Without saying a word, the teacher took some fine silver sand and let it trickle with a
gentle sighing sound into the large glass jar (whoosh) where it settled around the pink
pebbles and the dark grey rocks. When all the sand was in the jar, the teacher turned
to the students and asked, 'Is the jar now full?'
The students were not so confident this time, but the sand had clearly filled all the
space in the jar so a few still nodded and said, 'Yes, teacher, the jar is now full. Now
it's full'.
Without saving a word, the teacher took a jug of water and poured it carefully,
without splashing a drop, into the large glass jar. (Gloog. Gloog.)
When the water reached the brim, the teacher turned to the students and asked, 'Is
the jar now full?' Most of the students were silent, but two or three ventured to
answer, 'Yes, teacher, the jar is now full. Now it is'.
Without saying a word, the teacher took a handful of salt and sprinkled it slowly over
the top of the water with a very quiet whishing sound. (Whish.) When all the salt had
dissolved into the water, the teacher turned to the students and asked once more, 'Is
the jar now full?' The students were totally silent. Eventually one brave student said,
'Yes, teacher. The jar is now full'. 'Yes,' said the teacher 'The jar is now full'.
The teacher then said: 'A story always has many meanings and you will each have
understood many things from this demonstration. Discuss quietly amongst yourselves
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what meanings the story has for you. How many different messages can you find in it
and take from it?'
The students looked at the wise teacher and at the beautiful glass jar filled with grey
rocks, pink pebbles, silver sand, water and salt. Then they quietly discussed with one
another the meanings the story had for them. After a few minutes, the wise teacher
raised one hand and the room fell silent. The teacher said: 'Remember that there is
never just one interpretation of anything. You have all taken away many meanings and
messages from the story, and each meaning is as important and as valid as any other'.
And without saying another word, the teacher got up and left the room.
And another version of the same story ...
A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him.
When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty jar and
proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They
agreed that it was. So the professor then picked up a box of small pebbles and
poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open
areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They
agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the
sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students
responded with a unanimous "Yes." The professor then produced two cans of beer
from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the
empty space between the sand. The students laughed.
"Now", said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this
jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things - your family, your
children, your health, your friends, your favorite passions - things that, if everything
else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the
other things that matter like your job, your house, your car.
The sand is everything else - the small stuff. If you put the sand into the jar first" he
continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If
you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the
things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your
happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your
partner out to dinner. There will always be time to clean the house, and fix the rubbish.
Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The
rest is just sand".
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented. The
professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked. It just goes to show you that, no matter how
full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of beers".
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9/18/13
Listening - at Christmas and always

A few years after I left my secondary school in Manchester, I was invited to help out
with the school's Christmas Fair and I decided to have a go at being Father
Christmas. I had recently grown my first full beard and thought that I would enter into
the role by rubbing flour into my growth. Though I say it myself, I looked rather
splendid and certainly I attracted lots of custom.
I was enjoying myself enormously, bringing a sense of magic to so many young
children, but I was mystified by one young boy who paid for a second visit and then
astonishingly for a third. The presents on offer were really pretty pitiful, so I asked him
why he was coming to see me so often. He answered simply: "I just love talking to
you".
It was then that I realised that, in many households, parents do not encourage their
children to talk and really listen to them. This was a lesson that I have taken with me
throughout my life. So, at home, at work, socially, always encourage family, friends,
colleagues to talk about themselves and their feelings - and really listen.
Last modified on 6 September 2013
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9/18/13

Thoughtful and inspirational stories

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STORIES TO MAKE YOU THINK

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The two hospital patients

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In the same boat

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could smell its scent, as it could surely smell hers.

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rights, that has universal resonance and meaning

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been won. Rather we had become one with the river.

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Source: "Touching The Void" by Joe Simpson

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water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavour.

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The house with the golden windows

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Listening - at Christmas and always

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