Friends' Update
Loading ...Please wait.. 
THE WISE DONKEY
One day a farmer’s donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn’t worth it to retrieve the donkey.
He invited all his neighbours to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey did not know what was happening. He thought help was at hand. However, pretty soon it realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone’s amazement he quieted down.
A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up.
As the farmer’s neighbours continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off!
Moral of this story
Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a stepping stone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up.
Epilogue
The donkey later came back, and bit the shit out of the farmer who had tried to bury him. The gash from the bite got infected, and the farmer eventually died in agony from septic shock.
Corollary of the Moral
When you do something wrong and try to cover your ass, it always comes back to bite you.
Dear Daniel,
I love wildlife and nature’s myriad creations, and have been a member of the World Wildlife Fund-India since college days. Just an hour ago, I came across the stunningly beautiful wildlife paintings on your website: http://www.danielsmithwildlife.com May I please put up the attached collage (prepared using some of the lovely images from your website) on my blog: http://breathlessant.rediffiland.com/iland/breathlessant.html?
I want your magical gift to be seen and appreciated by lots and lots of people! I feel that these pix would help teach people to appreciate the wildlife that you have so stunningly portrayed. I request you to go through my blog and check that wherever I have used others’ writings I have cited their name appropriately, and where possible taken permission directly from the author.
Seeking your permission to use this collage on the above blog,
Sincerely,
Aparna
______________________________________________________________________
Dear Aparna,
Thanks for the compliments and you have my permission to use the collage as prepared.
Sincerely,
Daniel Smith
_______________________________________________________________________
@All … A few years after this post was originally put up on the rediffiland site, rediff itself migrated all our blogs to the new site <http://blogs.rediff.com/breathlessant/>
SELFLESS LOVE: A REALITY CHECK!
A clarification: I learnt just today (14-3-07) from my friend Amol that he has read this before. Which means it is just a chain email. How very sad. Id really believed that the good Col. had experienced this incident at first hand… I dont like chain letters as they are usually the byproduct of someone’s overactive brain and usually not a true story. What a let down! So now Im back to the original question: can such selflessness exist in real life?
I live in Indore, in India’s heartland. On our way back from an adjacent town, my friend and I stopped at a highway dhaba. Placing our order, we stretched ourselves out on the cane chairs. A motley group of people occupied other tables.
As we glanced around desultorily, a ragged man sauntered in and sat down. He poured himself a glass of water from the steel jug. He drank two whole glasses, but ordered no food, nor did the dhaba boys ask him. When our tea and samosas arrived, he looked at the food, filled his glass again and drank it. We saw no greed in his eyes, but it was an easy guess, that the guy was hungry and had no money.
The dhaba boy told us, “Oh! That madman comes in everyday If he has money, he eats something, otherwise he just drinks a few glasses of water and leaves. My boss said that since water has been given to us by the Lord, we must never stop anyone drinking it at our dhaba.”
This logic really touched me. I asked the boy to serve the man a plate of samosas. When he did so, the man looked at him. The boy pointed to us. The man looked at us but made no acknowledgement. As he picked up the first samosa, a little girl in rags walked up and just stood there. He gave her the samosa, which she wolfed down. He picked up the second one and handed that to her, too. She grabbed it and ran away He pushed away his empty plate, filled up his glass again, drank the water and walked away from the dhaba without a backward glance.
I asked myself if I were capable of a gesture like that. The most I could muster was, “I HOPE so”.
If sharing what we have in excess is generosity, then how would we describe what that madman did? ‘Selfless love’?
It is what intellectuals talk about and madmen practice!
KAHLIL GIBRAN on MARRIAGE
Then Almitra spoke again and said, “And what of Marriage, master?”
And he answered saying:
… But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
Love one another but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone, though they quiver with the same music.
Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.
For only the hand of life can contain your hearts.
And stand together, yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow!
MAYA ANGELOU on LIFE
* No matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow.
* You can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.
* Regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.
* Making a “living” is not the same thing as “making a life”.
* Life sometimes gives you a second chance.
* You shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw some things back.
* Whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision.
* Even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one.
* Every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.
* People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.
WILL YOU REMEMBER ME?
When you meet someone new
Someone who is much like you
Someone who is very cute
Someone who is pretty too
Someone who always smiles
Someone who talks sweet
When someone like this you meet
Will you forget me?
When time takes me away
Far far away from here
To a place nowhere near
Will I still be dear?
When we have no words to talk
I have no time for you
Will you still have time for me?
Will you still remember me?
When someday I die
And don’t live anymore
Will a tear roll down your cheek?
Will I still make your knees weak?
Will you tell your kids about me?
About the times we passed
About our times so happy
Will you still remember me?
If any of you know who it is, would you please forward the details to me?
Copyright � Jim Willis 2001, all rights reserved
When I was a puppy I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was “bad,” you’d shake your finger at me and ask “How could you?” - but then you’d relent and roll me over for a bellyrub.
My housetraining took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed, listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because “ice cream is bad for dogs,” you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.
Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.
She, now your wife, is not a “dog person” - still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a “prisoner of love.”
As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them, especially their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be.
I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams. Together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered “yes” and changed the subject. I had gone from being your dog to “just a dog,” and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.
Now you have a new career opportunity in another city and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You’ve made the right decision for your “family,” but there was a time when I was your only family.
I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said “I know you will find a good home for her.” They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog or cat, even one with “papers.”
You had to pry your son’s fingers loose from my collar as he screamed “No, Daddy! Please don’t let them take my dog!” And I worried for him and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too.
After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked “How could you?”
They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream…or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.
I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table, rubbed my ears and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.
She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured “How could you?”
Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said “I’m so sorry.” She hugged me and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn’t be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my “How could you?” was not meant for her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever.
May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty!
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
Reproduced with Jim Willis’ � permission from his website: http://www.crean.com/jimwillis/hcy.html
LONELY POEM
By Makarand Marathe
Drift of snowflakes
Sparkle and shimmer
In pure, serene twilight
My lonely poem rests in
Sublime delight
Paths diverge where
Landscape ends, leaving
Memory of pain in
Never ending wilderness
Spirit, hurt and injured
Immobile and breathless
Attends an agonizing funeral
In ruins of loneliness
As shadows wither
My lonely poem
Seeks your nomadic caress
To fill its eternal emptiness
SLOW DANCE
By Adelle Bradford
Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round
Or listened to the rain slapping down on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight
Or gazed the sun down into fading night?
You’d better slow down, don’t dance so fast,
Time is short and the music won’t last.
Do you run through the days always on the fly?
When you ask “How are you?” do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores running through your head?
You’d better slow down, don’t dance so fast,
Time is short and the music won’t last.
Ever told someone “we’ll do it tomorrow”,
And in your haste, not noticed their sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die
‘Cause you never found time to call and say “Hi”?
You’d better slow down, don’t dance so fast,
Time is short and the music won’t last.
When you run so fast to get somewhere,
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It’s like throwing an unopened gift away.
Life’s not a race, do take it slower,
And hear the music before the song is over.
WHERE THE MIND IS WITHOUT FEAR
By Rabindranath Tagore
Where the mind is without fear
and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms
towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee
into ever-widening thought and action –
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father,
let my country awake.
More Options ...
Categories
Tag Cloud
Blog RSS
Comments RSS
Void « Default
Life 
Earth 
Wind 
Water 
Fire Light 
Previous Entries
Last 50 Posts
Back