Soon after Sept 11, one company invited the remaining members of other firms which had been decimated by the attack on the Twin Towers in New York to share its office space.
At a morning meeting, the head of security told stories of why some of those present were alive. All the stories were about the "little" things.
Well, the head of the company survived that day because his son had started kindergarten. Another fellow was alive because it was his turn to bring doughnuts to work.
One woman was late because her alarm click didn't go off. Another had been stuck at a turnpike because of an accident.
One of them missed his bus. One spilled food on her clothes and had to take time to change. One's car couldn't start. One went back to answer the telephone. One had a child who dawdled and didn't get ready as fast as he should have. One couldn't get a taxi.
The most striking story was that of the man who had put on a new pair of shoes that morning before setting off for his office. But before he got there, he developed a blister on his foot and stopped at a drugstore to buy a Band-Aid. And he lived to tell about it.
Nowadays, whenever I am stuck in traffic, or miss the bus, or have to turn back to answer a ringing telephone - you know, all the little things that used to annoy me - I tell myself this is exactly where God wants me to be at that very moment.
When your morning seems to be going wrong, when the children are slow getting dressed, when you can't seem to find the car keys, or when every traffic light along your route is red, don't get mad or frustrated. Remember - someone is watching over you.
Sent in to Starmag by K.K. Tan
Showing posts with label encouragement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label encouragement. Show all posts
Friday, August 19, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
The Balance of Love
A woman dies after living a long, dignified life. When she meets God, she asks him something that has long bothered her: "If Man is created in God's image, and if all men are created equal, why do people treat each other so badly?"
God replied that each person who enters our life has a unique lesson to teach us. And it is only through these lessons that we learn about life, people, relationships and God.
This confuses the woman, so God begins to explain:
When someone lies to you, it teaches you that things are not always as they seem. The truth is often far beneath the surface. Look beyond the masks people wear if you want to know their heart. And remove your own masks to let people know yours.
When someone steals from you, it teaches you that nothing is forever. Always appreciate what you have, for you never know when you might lose it. And never, ever take your friends and family for granted because today is the only guarantee you have.
When someone inflicts an injury upon you, it teaches you that the human state is fragile. Protect and take care of your body as best you can because it's the only thing you are sure to have forever.
When someone mocks you, it teaches you that no two people are alike. When you encounter people who are different from you, don't judge them by how they look or act. Instead base your opinion on the contents of their heart.
When someone breaks your heart, it teaches you that loving someone does not always mean that the person will love you back. But don't turn your back on love because when you find the right person, the joy that the one person brings will make up for all the past hurts put together.
When someone holds a grudge against you, it teaches you that everyone makes mistakes. When you are wronged, the most virtuous thing you can do it to forgive the offender without pretense. forgiving those who have hurt us is the most difficult, the most courageous, and the noblest thing man can do.
When a loved one is unfaithful to you, it teaches you that resisting temptation is man's greatest challenge. Be vigilant in your resistance against all temptation. By doing so, you will be rewarded with and enduring sense of satisfaction far greater than the temporary pleasure by which you were tempted.
When someone cheats you, it teaches you that greed is the root of all evil.
Aspire to make your dreams come true, no matter how lofty they may be. Do not feel guilty about your success, but never let an obsession with achieving your goals lead you to engage in malevolent activities.
When someone ridicules you, it teaches you that nobody is perfect. Accept people for their merits and be tolerant of their flaws. Do not ever reject someone for imperfections over which they have no control.
Upon hearing the Maker's wisdom, the old woman becomes concerned that there were no lessons to be learned from man's good deeds. God tells her that man's capacity to love it the greatest gift he has. At the root of all kindness is love, and each act of love also teaches us a lesson.
As the woman's curiosity deepens, God once again explains:
When someone loves us, it teaches us that love, kindness, charity, honesty, humility, forgiveness and acceptance can counteract all the evil in the world. For every good deed, there is one less evil deed. Man alone has the power to control the balance between good and evil, but because the lessons of love are not taught often enough, the power is too often abused.
When you enter someone's life, whether by choice or chance, what will your lesson be. Will you teach love or harsh reality? Each one of us has power over the balance of love. Use that power wisely.
Sent in to Starmag by May C
God replied that each person who enters our life has a unique lesson to teach us. And it is only through these lessons that we learn about life, people, relationships and God.
This confuses the woman, so God begins to explain:
When someone lies to you, it teaches you that things are not always as they seem. The truth is often far beneath the surface. Look beyond the masks people wear if you want to know their heart. And remove your own masks to let people know yours.
When someone steals from you, it teaches you that nothing is forever. Always appreciate what you have, for you never know when you might lose it. And never, ever take your friends and family for granted because today is the only guarantee you have.
When someone inflicts an injury upon you, it teaches you that the human state is fragile. Protect and take care of your body as best you can because it's the only thing you are sure to have forever.
When someone mocks you, it teaches you that no two people are alike. When you encounter people who are different from you, don't judge them by how they look or act. Instead base your opinion on the contents of their heart.
When someone breaks your heart, it teaches you that loving someone does not always mean that the person will love you back. But don't turn your back on love because when you find the right person, the joy that the one person brings will make up for all the past hurts put together.
When someone holds a grudge against you, it teaches you that everyone makes mistakes. When you are wronged, the most virtuous thing you can do it to forgive the offender without pretense. forgiving those who have hurt us is the most difficult, the most courageous, and the noblest thing man can do.
When a loved one is unfaithful to you, it teaches you that resisting temptation is man's greatest challenge. Be vigilant in your resistance against all temptation. By doing so, you will be rewarded with and enduring sense of satisfaction far greater than the temporary pleasure by which you were tempted.
When someone cheats you, it teaches you that greed is the root of all evil.
Aspire to make your dreams come true, no matter how lofty they may be. Do not feel guilty about your success, but never let an obsession with achieving your goals lead you to engage in malevolent activities.
When someone ridicules you, it teaches you that nobody is perfect. Accept people for their merits and be tolerant of their flaws. Do not ever reject someone for imperfections over which they have no control.
Upon hearing the Maker's wisdom, the old woman becomes concerned that there were no lessons to be learned from man's good deeds. God tells her that man's capacity to love it the greatest gift he has. At the root of all kindness is love, and each act of love also teaches us a lesson.
As the woman's curiosity deepens, God once again explains:
When someone loves us, it teaches us that love, kindness, charity, honesty, humility, forgiveness and acceptance can counteract all the evil in the world. For every good deed, there is one less evil deed. Man alone has the power to control the balance between good and evil, but because the lessons of love are not taught often enough, the power is too often abused.
When you enter someone's life, whether by choice or chance, what will your lesson be. Will you teach love or harsh reality? Each one of us has power over the balance of love. Use that power wisely.
Sent in to Starmag by May C
Playing for Dad
The son loved football but was not very good at it. But the dad didn't mind. Even though the son was always sitting out games on the bench, his father was always in the stands cheering. He never missed a game.
The young man was determined to try his best at every practice - perhaps he'd get to play when he became a senior. All through secondary school he never missed a practice or a game even though he remained a bench warmer for four years. His faithful father was always in the stands, always with words of encouragement for him.
When the young man went to college, he decided to try out for the football team. Everyone was sure he would never make the cut, but he did. The coach admitted that he let the young man on the team because, as a junior, he always put his heart and soul into every practice while providing his team members with the spirit and hustle they needed.
The news that he had survived the cut thrilled the teen so much that he rushed to the nearest phone and called his father. His father shared his excitement and got season tickets for all the college games. This persistent young athlete never missed practice during his four years at college, but he never got to play in the game.
Then, at the end of his senior football season, he trotted on to the practice field shortly before the big play off game only to be met by the coach with a telegram. The young man read the telegram and he became deathly white.
Swallowing hard, he mumbled to the coach, "My father died this morning. Is it all right if I miss practice today?" The coach put his arm gently around his shoulders and said, "Take the rest of the week off, son. And don't even plan to come back to the game on Saturday."
Saturday arrived, and the game was not going well.
In the third quarter, when the team was 10 points behind, a silent young man quietly slipped into the empty locker room and put on his football gear. As he ran to the sidelines, the coach and his players were astounded to see their faithful team-mate back so soon.
"Coach, please let me play. I've just got to play today," said the young man. The coach pretended not to hear him. There was no way he wanted his worst player in this close championship game. But the young man persisted, and finally, feeling sorry for the kid, the coach gave in. "All right," he said. "You can go in."
Before long, the coach, the players and everyone in the stands could not believe their eyes. This little unknown, who had never played before was doing everything right. The opposing team could not stop him. He ran, he passed, blocked and tackled like a star. His team began to triumph. The score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of the game, this kid intercepted a pass and ran all the way for the winning touchdown. The fan broke loose. His team-mates hoisted him onto their shoulders. Such cheering you've never heard!
Finally, after the stands had emptied and the team had showered and left the locker room, the coach noticed that the young man was sitting quietly in the corner all alone. The coach came to him and said, "Kid, I can't believe it. You were fantastic! Tell me what got into you? How did you do it?"
The young man looked at the coach with tears in his eyes and said, "Well, you knew my dad died, but did you knew that my dad was blind?" The young man swallowed hard and forced a smile, "Dad came to all my games, but today was the first time he could see me play, and I wanted to show him I could do it!"
Sent to Starmag by Wong Lee Teng
The young man was determined to try his best at every practice - perhaps he'd get to play when he became a senior. All through secondary school he never missed a practice or a game even though he remained a bench warmer for four years. His faithful father was always in the stands, always with words of encouragement for him.
When the young man went to college, he decided to try out for the football team. Everyone was sure he would never make the cut, but he did. The coach admitted that he let the young man on the team because, as a junior, he always put his heart and soul into every practice while providing his team members with the spirit and hustle they needed.
The news that he had survived the cut thrilled the teen so much that he rushed to the nearest phone and called his father. His father shared his excitement and got season tickets for all the college games. This persistent young athlete never missed practice during his four years at college, but he never got to play in the game.
Then, at the end of his senior football season, he trotted on to the practice field shortly before the big play off game only to be met by the coach with a telegram. The young man read the telegram and he became deathly white.
Swallowing hard, he mumbled to the coach, "My father died this morning. Is it all right if I miss practice today?" The coach put his arm gently around his shoulders and said, "Take the rest of the week off, son. And don't even plan to come back to the game on Saturday."
Saturday arrived, and the game was not going well.
In the third quarter, when the team was 10 points behind, a silent young man quietly slipped into the empty locker room and put on his football gear. As he ran to the sidelines, the coach and his players were astounded to see their faithful team-mate back so soon.
"Coach, please let me play. I've just got to play today," said the young man. The coach pretended not to hear him. There was no way he wanted his worst player in this close championship game. But the young man persisted, and finally, feeling sorry for the kid, the coach gave in. "All right," he said. "You can go in."
Before long, the coach, the players and everyone in the stands could not believe their eyes. This little unknown, who had never played before was doing everything right. The opposing team could not stop him. He ran, he passed, blocked and tackled like a star. His team began to triumph. The score was soon tied. In the closing seconds of the game, this kid intercepted a pass and ran all the way for the winning touchdown. The fan broke loose. His team-mates hoisted him onto their shoulders. Such cheering you've never heard!
Finally, after the stands had emptied and the team had showered and left the locker room, the coach noticed that the young man was sitting quietly in the corner all alone. The coach came to him and said, "Kid, I can't believe it. You were fantastic! Tell me what got into you? How did you do it?"
The young man looked at the coach with tears in his eyes and said, "Well, you knew my dad died, but did you knew that my dad was blind?" The young man swallowed hard and forced a smile, "Dad came to all my games, but today was the first time he could see me play, and I wanted to show him I could do it!"
Sent to Starmag by Wong Lee Teng
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Diamonds in the Rough
By Juliana Phang
The nondescript group filed in slowly. "Ah ... looks like the doldrums for the next two days," I hummed silently to myself as I observed my newest batch of trainees streaming into the room. The nine executives were from various corporations in the region.
I never cease to marvel at the pipe dreams of corporate bosses: within 48 hours, the office sluggards they send will be changed, chameleon-like, into corporate champions. Yep, and with an additional bonus of guts and gall to bring about mind-boggling changes to their respective companies.
As they settled down, in shuffled a slight, hunch figure who reminded me of the Hunchback of the Notre Dame. She walked in hesitantly and gave me a shy smile. From afar, she looked like a victim of osteoporosis, a bone affliction of older citizens. To my surprise, as she drew nearer, I realise Ms Hoe was very much younger than I had surmised.
As we introduced ourselves, one of the participants turned around fully to face me. I realised with a jolt that she had a reddish, unsightly birthmark that covered more than half her face.
I wondered why she didn't attempt to hide it with make-up. Why hasn't she gone for plastic surgery to get rid of that hideous thing? But if she was ashamed of the sprawling mark, Lisa didn't show it.
As with any meeting of Eves, during tea-break, the topic turned to marriage. More out of curiosity than courtesy, I asked the ladies if they had any intention of getting married. My little mind had already formed the foregone conclusion that notably two of them were not likely to attract suitors. And even as the question left the tip of my impetuous tongue, I was afraid they would find it offensive.
However, Ms Hoe turned to me and quietly remarked that she would, but for her spine problem of 20 years. Her spine had started to curve when she was in her twenties. She had consulted various doctors, bone specialists, therapists and even chiropractors, and done extensive research on the Internet. But sadly, there is no known cure.
Silence. Knives, forks and spoons were poised in mid-air. You could hear a pin drop in the dining room.
I cleared my throat and helpfully blustered, "I feel sad for you."
Ms Hoe turned and looked at me steadily, with her calm dark brown eyes showing something akin to compassion. "There is nothing to be sad about. I will have to live with it the best way I can." And I thought she was the one in need of pity.
She shared how she had to give up badminton when the pains started to wrack her twisted body. The doctors could only prescribe painkillers to ease her suffering. But over-dependence on drugs was not something she wanted for the rest of her life. Instead of drowning in despair, she gamely took up qigong, an ancient Chinese form of exercise for self-healing.
Whenever she went out, people would stop and stare and make unkind remarks. Was she bitter about it all?
"Why should I be bothered? I have not committed any crime or sinned such that God should punish me with this. If He sees fit that I should go through life as a hunchback, then I will ask for strength, not deliverance."
I bumped into Ms Hoe again as I entered the ladies' toilet later. She was applying lipstick, preparing for a session of individual presentations. The moment she saw me, she surreptitiously put the lipstick behind her back. I pretended I hadn't noticed. However in my mind's eye, I suddenly realised that she, like all women, desired to look beautiful.
I discovered this unassuming lady was also a manager and a shareholder of the company she was working inl Yet she did not pull her weight around despite the fact that she had subordinate in the same course. Instead, she constantly praised his abilities. She focused on others' strengths, not her own weakness.
Lisa revealed that she was engaged and would soon be marrying a wonderful man.
Engagement? Marriage? Husband? Was I hearing right? So many of my friends who were better endowed in the looks department were still desperately searching for Mr Right. How in the world did she do it?
Eventually, I realised her secret. Instead of being self-conscious and bitter over what fate had dealt her, Lisa was the life of our group. She made us laugh with her witty comments and contributed to all the discussions.
I once sagely mentioned how we so easily fall when faced with calamity. Lisa tut-tutted: "Oh, what a negative was to face life!" And that coming from a person who, I thought, needed all the positive thinking we could possibly muster!
Lisa didn't need any cover-up for her disfigurement. I'd swear that as I spent more time with her, the birthmark seemed to fade. She radiated enthusiasm and a zest for life. In fact, she was actually very pretty. She had a smooth and even complexion that millions of women would die for. And she had a nice figure to boot. She was involved in various sports despite her heavy work schedule. She talked excitedly about her latest passion, bowling, and proceeded to educate me, a novice, on the finer points of the game!
Sometimes my trainees call me sifu. In Cantonese, it means teacher of the highest order. But as we gave farewell speeches and exchanged thank you notes, I felt less of a sifu and more like a fool that day. Who, indeed, was the real teacher here?
I was there to teach them how to perform better in their work, but the tables were turned. My trainees taught me more than all the management books in the world could. I taught them how to be better employees but they taught me something more important in life - how to be a better person.
Thank you, Ms Hoe and Lisa. I will always remember you when I walk through the valley of shadow and self-defeat. May your courage and fortitude be my guiding light whenever I am tempted to curse fate and dwell in self-pity.
And may your concept of real beauty that shines from within as opposed to the world's standards of perfection be with me through the ravages of time. God bless you both; you are like diamonds that shine in the dark.
From Starmag
The nondescript group filed in slowly. "Ah ... looks like the doldrums for the next two days," I hummed silently to myself as I observed my newest batch of trainees streaming into the room. The nine executives were from various corporations in the region.
I never cease to marvel at the pipe dreams of corporate bosses: within 48 hours, the office sluggards they send will be changed, chameleon-like, into corporate champions. Yep, and with an additional bonus of guts and gall to bring about mind-boggling changes to their respective companies.
As they settled down, in shuffled a slight, hunch figure who reminded me of the Hunchback of the Notre Dame. She walked in hesitantly and gave me a shy smile. From afar, she looked like a victim of osteoporosis, a bone affliction of older citizens. To my surprise, as she drew nearer, I realise Ms Hoe was very much younger than I had surmised.
As we introduced ourselves, one of the participants turned around fully to face me. I realised with a jolt that she had a reddish, unsightly birthmark that covered more than half her face.
I wondered why she didn't attempt to hide it with make-up. Why hasn't she gone for plastic surgery to get rid of that hideous thing? But if she was ashamed of the sprawling mark, Lisa didn't show it.
As with any meeting of Eves, during tea-break, the topic turned to marriage. More out of curiosity than courtesy, I asked the ladies if they had any intention of getting married. My little mind had already formed the foregone conclusion that notably two of them were not likely to attract suitors. And even as the question left the tip of my impetuous tongue, I was afraid they would find it offensive.
However, Ms Hoe turned to me and quietly remarked that she would, but for her spine problem of 20 years. Her spine had started to curve when she was in her twenties. She had consulted various doctors, bone specialists, therapists and even chiropractors, and done extensive research on the Internet. But sadly, there is no known cure.
Silence. Knives, forks and spoons were poised in mid-air. You could hear a pin drop in the dining room.
I cleared my throat and helpfully blustered, "I feel sad for you."
Ms Hoe turned and looked at me steadily, with her calm dark brown eyes showing something akin to compassion. "There is nothing to be sad about. I will have to live with it the best way I can." And I thought she was the one in need of pity.
She shared how she had to give up badminton when the pains started to wrack her twisted body. The doctors could only prescribe painkillers to ease her suffering. But over-dependence on drugs was not something she wanted for the rest of her life. Instead of drowning in despair, she gamely took up qigong, an ancient Chinese form of exercise for self-healing.
Whenever she went out, people would stop and stare and make unkind remarks. Was she bitter about it all?
"Why should I be bothered? I have not committed any crime or sinned such that God should punish me with this. If He sees fit that I should go through life as a hunchback, then I will ask for strength, not deliverance."
I bumped into Ms Hoe again as I entered the ladies' toilet later. She was applying lipstick, preparing for a session of individual presentations. The moment she saw me, she surreptitiously put the lipstick behind her back. I pretended I hadn't noticed. However in my mind's eye, I suddenly realised that she, like all women, desired to look beautiful.
I discovered this unassuming lady was also a manager and a shareholder of the company she was working inl Yet she did not pull her weight around despite the fact that she had subordinate in the same course. Instead, she constantly praised his abilities. She focused on others' strengths, not her own weakness.
Lisa revealed that she was engaged and would soon be marrying a wonderful man.
Engagement? Marriage? Husband? Was I hearing right? So many of my friends who were better endowed in the looks department were still desperately searching for Mr Right. How in the world did she do it?
Eventually, I realised her secret. Instead of being self-conscious and bitter over what fate had dealt her, Lisa was the life of our group. She made us laugh with her witty comments and contributed to all the discussions.
I once sagely mentioned how we so easily fall when faced with calamity. Lisa tut-tutted: "Oh, what a negative was to face life!" And that coming from a person who, I thought, needed all the positive thinking we could possibly muster!
Lisa didn't need any cover-up for her disfigurement. I'd swear that as I spent more time with her, the birthmark seemed to fade. She radiated enthusiasm and a zest for life. In fact, she was actually very pretty. She had a smooth and even complexion that millions of women would die for. And she had a nice figure to boot. She was involved in various sports despite her heavy work schedule. She talked excitedly about her latest passion, bowling, and proceeded to educate me, a novice, on the finer points of the game!
Sometimes my trainees call me sifu. In Cantonese, it means teacher of the highest order. But as we gave farewell speeches and exchanged thank you notes, I felt less of a sifu and more like a fool that day. Who, indeed, was the real teacher here?
I was there to teach them how to perform better in their work, but the tables were turned. My trainees taught me more than all the management books in the world could. I taught them how to be better employees but they taught me something more important in life - how to be a better person.
Thank you, Ms Hoe and Lisa. I will always remember you when I walk through the valley of shadow and self-defeat. May your courage and fortitude be my guiding light whenever I am tempted to curse fate and dwell in self-pity.
And may your concept of real beauty that shines from within as opposed to the world's standards of perfection be with me through the ravages of time. God bless you both; you are like diamonds that shine in the dark.
From Starmag
Crumpled But Still Valuable
A well-known speaker started off his seminar by holding up a$20 bill. In the room of 200 eager participants, he asked, "Who would like this $20 bill?"
Hands started going up. He said, "I am going to give this $20 to one of you, but first, let me do this." He proceeded to crumple the bill.
He then asked: "Who still wants it?" The hands went up again.
"Well, what is I do this?" He dropped the bill and started to grind it into the floor with his foot. He then picked it up' it was not crumpled and dirty.
"Now who still wants it?" The hands continued to go up.
"My friends, we have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the bill, you wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20.
"Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless.
"But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value. Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless to those who love you. The worth of our lives lies not in what we do or whom we know, but by who we are.
"You are all special - don't ever forget that."
Sent to Starmag by Clement Nathan
Hands started going up. He said, "I am going to give this $20 to one of you, but first, let me do this." He proceeded to crumple the bill.
He then asked: "Who still wants it?" The hands went up again.
"Well, what is I do this?" He dropped the bill and started to grind it into the floor with his foot. He then picked it up' it was not crumpled and dirty.
"Now who still wants it?" The hands continued to go up.
"My friends, we have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the bill, you wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20.
"Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless.
"But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value. Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless to those who love you. The worth of our lives lies not in what we do or whom we know, but by who we are.
"You are all special - don't ever forget that."
Sent to Starmag by Clement Nathan
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Three Trees
Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods. As they were discussing their hopes and dreams, the first tree said: "Some day I hope to be a treasure chest. I can be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. I can be decorated with intricate carvings and everyone will see my beauty."
The the second tree said: "Some day I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull."
Finally, the third tree said: "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People who see me at the top of the hill will look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God, and how close I am to them. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me."
A few years after that, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. One of them looked at the first tree and said: "This looks like a strong tree ... I should be able to sell its wood to a carpenter." He began to cut itdown. The tree was happy because he knew that the carpenter would turn him into a treasure chest.
At the second tree, the woodsmen said: "This looks like a strong tree; I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship.
When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, he was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down, his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree. I'll take this one," and he cut it down.
When the first tree arrived at the carpenter's, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not what he had hoped for at all.
The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end. The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark. The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams.
One day, a man and woman came into the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but the manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time.
Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and He stood and said, "Peace", and the storm stopped. The tree knew then that it had carried the King of Kings.
Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as people mocked the man carrying it. When they came to a stop at the top of a hill, the man was nailed to the tree and left to die there. When Sunday came, the tree realised that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as possible because Jesus had been crucified on it.
Each of the trees got what it wanted, although not in the way it had imagined. In the same way, God's plans for us are not always our plans, but they are always the best.
Sent to Starmag by Alicia Goh on 16 April 2006
The the second tree said: "Some day I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull."
Finally, the third tree said: "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People who see me at the top of the hill will look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God, and how close I am to them. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me."
A few years after that, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. One of them looked at the first tree and said: "This looks like a strong tree ... I should be able to sell its wood to a carpenter." He began to cut itdown. The tree was happy because he knew that the carpenter would turn him into a treasure chest.
At the second tree, the woodsmen said: "This looks like a strong tree; I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship.
When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, he was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down, his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree. I'll take this one," and he cut it down.
When the first tree arrived at the carpenter's, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not what he had hoped for at all.
The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end. The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in the dark. The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams.
One day, a man and woman came into the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but the manger would have to do. The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time.
Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and He stood and said, "Peace", and the storm stopped. The tree knew then that it had carried the King of Kings.
Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as people mocked the man carrying it. When they came to a stop at the top of a hill, the man was nailed to the tree and left to die there. When Sunday came, the tree realised that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as possible because Jesus had been crucified on it.
Each of the trees got what it wanted, although not in the way it had imagined. In the same way, God's plans for us are not always our plans, but they are always the best.
Sent to Starmag by Alicia Goh on 16 April 2006
Friday, July 1, 2011
Blessed Legs
Sheikh Sadi was a great religious preacher of Islam in Iran. He was very poor. Once he had no shoes to wear and no money to buy them. Without shoes, while walking, his feet used to burn and pebbles bruised his feet. He was always in discomfort.
One day he went to a mosque at Kufa for prayers and was, at the entrance, a man with both his legs amputated. When Sheikh Sadi pondered over that man's helplessness, his eyes opened.
He thanked God, "O God, how kind of you! You have kept my two legs safe!"
Moral of the story: We always look at what others have that we don't. We should look at what we have that others don't.
From the same little book of Love Stories as the previous few posts...
One day he went to a mosque at Kufa for prayers and was, at the entrance, a man with both his legs amputated. When Sheikh Sadi pondered over that man's helplessness, his eyes opened.
He thanked God, "O God, how kind of you! You have kept my two legs safe!"
Moral of the story: We always look at what others have that we don't. We should look at what we have that others don't.
From the same little book of Love Stories as the previous few posts...
Monday, May 30, 2011
No Easy Way Out
By Patricia Pinto
The pain was like nothing she had ever known. It spread from her heart to her eyes and through her soul. The tears as she lay in a ball on her bed, her spirit crumpled. In her mind, she replayed her "conversation" with her father.
"Why every week must go out? Cannot stay at home, is it? Nowadays, you very big, no need to ask permission lah! Just tell and then go out, huh?" he shouted at her. His anger shocked her.
"I tell you cannot go means cannot go. The other time, after play futsal, I already told you cannot go out again. That was the last time."
Her face fell; she could not remember him ever saying that. But father did not give her a chance to reply. He ended abruptly and she went into her room, careful not to slam the door and fuel his anger.
She phoned her boyfriend and told him about her father's harsh words. He reminded her that her father had no legal right to keep her in the house. He also expressed his frustrations with her parents, particularly her father, who seemed opposed to her making friends with guys.
After the call, she curled up in a ball and tried hard not to let the tears fall. All this time, she had stomached her parents' accusations stoically. But what hurt most was that they persisted in treating her like a 10-year-old kid, and not the 20-year-old woman she had become.
Hoe many years had she followed their orders blindly, giving them what they wanted? When they wanted good grades, she had scored them and waited to hear their praise. Instead, they had complained that she was not a straight-A student.
She did not have a good time at school either. People had mocked her because of her figure, and later, her name. Then things got worse. Her "friends" had teased and bullied her. But she took everything good-naturedly, letting them run roughshod over her. She felt left out because whenever they made plans to go out, she could not join in. She was lonely.
Talking to her parents had never been an option. They cared more for her brother, although lately, she'd noticed that even he was getting the brunt of their tongue. They never heard her cries at night, and never knew her frustration when she could not answer a question. They always stifled some of her interests with this question: "Is it in your books?"
Even when she had a boyfriend, she did not tell him everything. She did not dare confide in anyone because she'd learnt from a young age, that expressing a "forbidden" feeling would incur harsh words and humiliation, especially in front of her other relatives.
How she longed to have a shoulder cry on; to have someone hug her and tell her that it was okay, that she had done her best. Was it so wrong to ask that her parents say they love her?
Her lips twisted bitterly as she thought of the idiom: "Blood is thicker than water."
Which father would hit and kick his only son just because his favourite hat had a small, insignificant part missing? Which mother would use her own daughter as an excuse to turn herself into something she was not? What kind of parents would poison their own children against their cousins?
She held up her hand and looked at the faint blue veins on her wrist. Smiling to herself, she went to the kitchen, took a small knife, then returned to her room. She locked the door, then stared at the metal blade. She began to think of everything good in her life.
Those friends who did not mind hearing her prattle away. Her grandmother, who loved her unconditionally . A boyfriend who loved her too, but who - from their latest conversation - she felt she did not really deserve. Her little cousins, who would wonder why she had chosen this road.
Then she thought of the "bad" things. The father whose expectations she could never fulfil. Her mother, who wanted her to be what she herself could not be. Her aunts, who always took advantage of the fact that she lived near them. Her godmother, who she had thought of confiding in in once, but was now glad she didn't. And of the loneliness of not being able to talk to the very people who were responsible for her life.
Then she thought of what would happen if she slit her wrist.
There would be the funeral to be arranged and paid for. Her brother would truly be alone, without her around to confide in and share his secrets. Her cousins would be shocked, but the aunts would gossip behind her mother's back.
The shock of a beloved granddaughter's suicide might kill her grandmother. There would be one less mouth to feed, but her mother would be angry about all the money she'd spent on her tertiary education. Her little cousin, who'd lost her mother and now clung to her, would be devastated. But good might come of this: if the cousin clung to her father's girlfriend instead, it would bring them all closer to each other.
Then she looked at the teddy bear her boyfriend had given her long ago for Christmas. It looked worn but was still fluffy. And she knew then that doing something stupid would cause him even more pain.
She put the knife away.
From Starmag
The pain was like nothing she had ever known. It spread from her heart to her eyes and through her soul. The tears as she lay in a ball on her bed, her spirit crumpled. In her mind, she replayed her "conversation" with her father.
"Why every week must go out? Cannot stay at home, is it? Nowadays, you very big, no need to ask permission lah! Just tell and then go out, huh?" he shouted at her. His anger shocked her.
"I tell you cannot go means cannot go. The other time, after play futsal, I already told you cannot go out again. That was the last time."
Her face fell; she could not remember him ever saying that. But father did not give her a chance to reply. He ended abruptly and she went into her room, careful not to slam the door and fuel his anger.
She phoned her boyfriend and told him about her father's harsh words. He reminded her that her father had no legal right to keep her in the house. He also expressed his frustrations with her parents, particularly her father, who seemed opposed to her making friends with guys.
After the call, she curled up in a ball and tried hard not to let the tears fall. All this time, she had stomached her parents' accusations stoically. But what hurt most was that they persisted in treating her like a 10-year-old kid, and not the 20-year-old woman she had become.
Hoe many years had she followed their orders blindly, giving them what they wanted? When they wanted good grades, she had scored them and waited to hear their praise. Instead, they had complained that she was not a straight-A student.
She did not have a good time at school either. People had mocked her because of her figure, and later, her name. Then things got worse. Her "friends" had teased and bullied her. But she took everything good-naturedly, letting them run roughshod over her. She felt left out because whenever they made plans to go out, she could not join in. She was lonely.
Talking to her parents had never been an option. They cared more for her brother, although lately, she'd noticed that even he was getting the brunt of their tongue. They never heard her cries at night, and never knew her frustration when she could not answer a question. They always stifled some of her interests with this question: "Is it in your books?"
Even when she had a boyfriend, she did not tell him everything. She did not dare confide in anyone because she'd learnt from a young age, that expressing a "forbidden" feeling would incur harsh words and humiliation, especially in front of her other relatives.
How she longed to have a shoulder cry on; to have someone hug her and tell her that it was okay, that she had done her best. Was it so wrong to ask that her parents say they love her?
Her lips twisted bitterly as she thought of the idiom: "Blood is thicker than water."
Which father would hit and kick his only son just because his favourite hat had a small, insignificant part missing? Which mother would use her own daughter as an excuse to turn herself into something she was not? What kind of parents would poison their own children against their cousins?
She held up her hand and looked at the faint blue veins on her wrist. Smiling to herself, she went to the kitchen, took a small knife, then returned to her room. She locked the door, then stared at the metal blade. She began to think of everything good in her life.
Those friends who did not mind hearing her prattle away. Her grandmother, who loved her unconditionally . A boyfriend who loved her too, but who - from their latest conversation - she felt she did not really deserve. Her little cousins, who would wonder why she had chosen this road.
Then she thought of the "bad" things. The father whose expectations she could never fulfil. Her mother, who wanted her to be what she herself could not be. Her aunts, who always took advantage of the fact that she lived near them. Her godmother, who she had thought of confiding in in once, but was now glad she didn't. And of the loneliness of not being able to talk to the very people who were responsible for her life.
Then she thought of what would happen if she slit her wrist.
There would be the funeral to be arranged and paid for. Her brother would truly be alone, without her around to confide in and share his secrets. Her cousins would be shocked, but the aunts would gossip behind her mother's back.
The shock of a beloved granddaughter's suicide might kill her grandmother. There would be one less mouth to feed, but her mother would be angry about all the money she'd spent on her tertiary education. Her little cousin, who'd lost her mother and now clung to her, would be devastated. But good might come of this: if the cousin clung to her father's girlfriend instead, it would bring them all closer to each other.
Then she looked at the teddy bear her boyfriend had given her long ago for Christmas. It looked worn but was still fluffy. And she knew then that doing something stupid would cause him even more pain.
She put the knife away.
From Starmag
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Angel In My Heart
By Jade Cheng
On this Cheng Beng (All Souls Day) Sunday, when the Chinese remember their dearly departed ones, let me tell you about a darling angel who almost came into this world, and who has never left my heart. If she had lived, she would be 21 now, a full grown adult!
It was my first pregnancy, and it had gone well ... for seven months. Then I was told by a gynaecologist friend that I was bigger than normal.
"You must see your gynae for a check-up," he stressed. He was very serious, but still I couldn't imagine that anything could go wrong. I had been so healthy, I had worked throughout without any problems. I hadn't even suffered much from morning sickness.
My gynae immediately put me on full bed rest. Something was not right, but nothing had shown up in the ultrasound scan ... until one week later. The baby had a growth around its neck that was preventing it from swallowing, hence my enlarged water bag. More observations showed that the growth was increasing at a phenomenal pace. It was not known yet if the tumour was malignant or not. But the doctor said it would be very difficult for the baby to survive or live a normal life. He recommended inducing birth and not reviving the baby if it could not breathe. My husband agreed.
I hesitated, but was too shocked, confused and numb to put up a fight. I went along with the decision. But inside me, I felt like a murderer, of my own baby, whom I was supposed to protect and nurture. I was relieved when the post-mortem tests showed the tumour to be malignant - she wouldn't have survived.
I didn't know if I could make it through the ordeal of labour and delivery with the knowledge that there would be no bundle of joy at the end of it all. I longed to just go for caesarean - get knocked out and have everything done while I was unconscious. But that meant undergoing a major surgery and I was advised against it.
The night before the delivery, I asked for a sleeping pill. In those days, they didn't allow husbands in the delivery room so I was alone most of the time. I got the thickest novel I could find and fixed my mind on it to shut out all other thoughts. The delivery itself was not overly painful - perhaps I was too numb to feel much pain. My husband had told me to close my eyes and not look at the baby. Again, I was too numb to think independently. I remember the nurse telling me I had a beautiful girl and asking me if I wanted to see her. I shut my eyes tightly and shook my head.
I agreed to give up my baby's body for scientific research. When later, I changed my mind about not seeing her, there was nothing left. The doctor showed me a photograph and yes, the nurse was right - she was beautiful. But we have nothing physical to remember her by. She is buried nowhere but in my heart.
Family and friends were stunned by the turn of events. Not knowing how to react, they pretended that nothing had happened. There was no acknowledgement that the baby had existed at all, that we had lost a baby.
When my mother-in-law caught me crying, she told me not to cry or I would go blind. It was her way of trying to help me get over my loss. My husband, fraught with anxiety over my well-being, was a bundle of nerves. In those days, when nobody understood the psychology of the grieving process, my crying indicated to him that I was not doing well and it made his heartburn worse. In order to help him calm down, I tried not to cry in front of him. That way, they thought I was putting the loss behind me and was on the way to recovery.
My colleagues who knew about the tragedy thought they were respecting my privacy by not gossiping about it to others. Thus, many in the office didn't know any better. For more times than I could bear, the cleaning ladies, the telephone operator, and people form other departments would come beaming to me and ask me if I had a boy or a girl. I broke down many times. But many more times I learnt to say, "I lost the baby". The smiles would turn to shock as the enquirers slinked away in silence. I forcibly pushed down the cry welling up inside me and turned back to work.
I wished my close friends would have the sense to tell others not to ask me about the subject, but they didn't and I couldn't talk about it at all. For months, I sobbed uncontrollably almost every day on the drive home from work, hoping that people in the cars around me wouldn't notice.
Slowly, the months stretched into years. Other events in my life took centre stage. We didn't have other children and I couldn't decide whether or not to go all out to try for kids. My husband said it didn't matter to him whether or not we had kids. "If we have kids, fine. If not, we'll travel," he used to say. I didn't know if I really wanted to be a mother, or whether I wanted a baby to make up for my lost angel. On the outside, I acted normally. But deep inside, I never got over the tragedy ... not for a long time.
It wasn't until eight years later that I had to make a choice. I was about to go all out to try for a baby to avoid possible regret in later years. Then the opportunity arose for me to pursue a course of studies I had dreamt about for more than 10 years. But if the baby effort turned out successful, I wouldn't have time for the studies. Examining myself deeply, I realised that I preferred to pursue the course, that being a mother was not important to me. Then and only then did the last boulder of crippling a corner of my heart dislodge and I was whole again.
It doesn't mean that the sadness is completely gone. Indeed, writing this article made me cry buckets all over again. But it does mean that I am free today to enjoy other people's children - my nephews and nieces, my friends' kids. I am also able to emphatise with the unbearable pain of a mother's loss, even though I never quite got to be a full-fledged mother. I appreciate the need of those who have suffered the tragic death of a loved one to undergo a healthy grieving process, and the role that family, friends and third parties can play in this process.
While I would not have chosen such a painful experience, I thank my darling angel who, in coming so briefly into my life, made me a better, more compassionate and sensitive person. I regret that I never held my baby and kissed her and told her that I will always love her. But I know that she knows. And just as she has moved on, so have I.
Starmag
On this Cheng Beng (All Souls Day) Sunday, when the Chinese remember their dearly departed ones, let me tell you about a darling angel who almost came into this world, and who has never left my heart. If she had lived, she would be 21 now, a full grown adult!
It was my first pregnancy, and it had gone well ... for seven months. Then I was told by a gynaecologist friend that I was bigger than normal.
"You must see your gynae for a check-up," he stressed. He was very serious, but still I couldn't imagine that anything could go wrong. I had been so healthy, I had worked throughout without any problems. I hadn't even suffered much from morning sickness.
My gynae immediately put me on full bed rest. Something was not right, but nothing had shown up in the ultrasound scan ... until one week later. The baby had a growth around its neck that was preventing it from swallowing, hence my enlarged water bag. More observations showed that the growth was increasing at a phenomenal pace. It was not known yet if the tumour was malignant or not. But the doctor said it would be very difficult for the baby to survive or live a normal life. He recommended inducing birth and not reviving the baby if it could not breathe. My husband agreed.
I hesitated, but was too shocked, confused and numb to put up a fight. I went along with the decision. But inside me, I felt like a murderer, of my own baby, whom I was supposed to protect and nurture. I was relieved when the post-mortem tests showed the tumour to be malignant - she wouldn't have survived.
I didn't know if I could make it through the ordeal of labour and delivery with the knowledge that there would be no bundle of joy at the end of it all. I longed to just go for caesarean - get knocked out and have everything done while I was unconscious. But that meant undergoing a major surgery and I was advised against it.
The night before the delivery, I asked for a sleeping pill. In those days, they didn't allow husbands in the delivery room so I was alone most of the time. I got the thickest novel I could find and fixed my mind on it to shut out all other thoughts. The delivery itself was not overly painful - perhaps I was too numb to feel much pain. My husband had told me to close my eyes and not look at the baby. Again, I was too numb to think independently. I remember the nurse telling me I had a beautiful girl and asking me if I wanted to see her. I shut my eyes tightly and shook my head.
I agreed to give up my baby's body for scientific research. When later, I changed my mind about not seeing her, there was nothing left. The doctor showed me a photograph and yes, the nurse was right - she was beautiful. But we have nothing physical to remember her by. She is buried nowhere but in my heart.
Family and friends were stunned by the turn of events. Not knowing how to react, they pretended that nothing had happened. There was no acknowledgement that the baby had existed at all, that we had lost a baby.
When my mother-in-law caught me crying, she told me not to cry or I would go blind. It was her way of trying to help me get over my loss. My husband, fraught with anxiety over my well-being, was a bundle of nerves. In those days, when nobody understood the psychology of the grieving process, my crying indicated to him that I was not doing well and it made his heartburn worse. In order to help him calm down, I tried not to cry in front of him. That way, they thought I was putting the loss behind me and was on the way to recovery.
My colleagues who knew about the tragedy thought they were respecting my privacy by not gossiping about it to others. Thus, many in the office didn't know any better. For more times than I could bear, the cleaning ladies, the telephone operator, and people form other departments would come beaming to me and ask me if I had a boy or a girl. I broke down many times. But many more times I learnt to say, "I lost the baby". The smiles would turn to shock as the enquirers slinked away in silence. I forcibly pushed down the cry welling up inside me and turned back to work.
I wished my close friends would have the sense to tell others not to ask me about the subject, but they didn't and I couldn't talk about it at all. For months, I sobbed uncontrollably almost every day on the drive home from work, hoping that people in the cars around me wouldn't notice.
Slowly, the months stretched into years. Other events in my life took centre stage. We didn't have other children and I couldn't decide whether or not to go all out to try for kids. My husband said it didn't matter to him whether or not we had kids. "If we have kids, fine. If not, we'll travel," he used to say. I didn't know if I really wanted to be a mother, or whether I wanted a baby to make up for my lost angel. On the outside, I acted normally. But deep inside, I never got over the tragedy ... not for a long time.
It wasn't until eight years later that I had to make a choice. I was about to go all out to try for a baby to avoid possible regret in later years. Then the opportunity arose for me to pursue a course of studies I had dreamt about for more than 10 years. But if the baby effort turned out successful, I wouldn't have time for the studies. Examining myself deeply, I realised that I preferred to pursue the course, that being a mother was not important to me. Then and only then did the last boulder of crippling a corner of my heart dislodge and I was whole again.
It doesn't mean that the sadness is completely gone. Indeed, writing this article made me cry buckets all over again. But it does mean that I am free today to enjoy other people's children - my nephews and nieces, my friends' kids. I am also able to emphatise with the unbearable pain of a mother's loss, even though I never quite got to be a full-fledged mother. I appreciate the need of those who have suffered the tragic death of a loved one to undergo a healthy grieving process, and the role that family, friends and third parties can play in this process.
While I would not have chosen such a painful experience, I thank my darling angel who, in coming so briefly into my life, made me a better, more compassionate and sensitive person. I regret that I never held my baby and kissed her and told her that I will always love her. But I know that she knows. And just as she has moved on, so have I.
Starmag
Thursday, May 26, 2011
A Lesson for Life
By Cikgu Oh
One morning, Sanggat, an eight-year-old pupil of mine knocked on my door; he was here to help me sweep my quarters. He noticed some thick books neatly arranged on my reading table.
Curiously he asked, "Sir, what books are these?"
I told him that those were books that I needed to study for an important exam so that I might go to the university someday. He frowned because in a remote area where we were, even a bicycle was unheard of. I tried to explain "university" to him with the help of pictures that looked like a university campus. At that time, Sarawak did not have a university and the nearest one was across the South China Sea, in Peninsular Malaysia.
He was surprised: "But, sir, you are a teacher. Why study?"
So we sat down and I told him all about this thing called Education and gave him a pep talk about his chances of becoming someone great in the future. He took one of my books - the thickest one - in his hands and upon opening it exclaimed, "Wow, the words are so tine and there are millions of them. How can you possibly finish reading it?"
I explained to him the importance of learning to read well and to make the best out of the lessons that he was learning at school, and that teachers like me, were specially sent to teach special children like him so that someday they could read great books like the one he was holding. He left my room.
When the other pupils learned that Sanggat always volunteered to sweep my room, they wanted to do the same and soon it became an almost daily ritual which ended up with me buying more brooms to maximise participation. And Sanggat would never fail to show them my books, each time adding a little commentary of his own about them in the Iban language.
I did not realise the impact my words had on him until the day I slipped in the river and broke my neck. I was to be paralysed from my shoulders downward for the rest of my life.
I was carried into a speedboat and transported back to civilisation. As I lay motionless and exhausted, I noticed that the whole school had gathered by the riverside to bid me farewell. A gaze at their faces told me that I was going to miss them. Then, as the engine of the speedboat started to roar, there was a little commotion by the river.
I could see Sanggat making his way to the boat. With tear-filled eyes, he approached and in between sobs he asked, "Sir, are you coming back?" "Perhaps not."
Then after a short pause he said, "Sir, if you can't come back, I'll see you in the university, ya?"
My heart was profoundly touched and as the boat moved away, I realised an important lesson of my own: Teachers must never fail to take time explaining positive lessons to the young ones. Simple and sincere gestures sometimes can have far reaching effects on them and life may never be the same again. It is the small simple pleasures we gather from life that ultimately bear great fruits of profound magnitude. We should watch out for every opportunity we have to assist the young ones towards self-accomplishments.
From Starmag
One morning, Sanggat, an eight-year-old pupil of mine knocked on my door; he was here to help me sweep my quarters. He noticed some thick books neatly arranged on my reading table.
Curiously he asked, "Sir, what books are these?"
I told him that those were books that I needed to study for an important exam so that I might go to the university someday. He frowned because in a remote area where we were, even a bicycle was unheard of. I tried to explain "university" to him with the help of pictures that looked like a university campus. At that time, Sarawak did not have a university and the nearest one was across the South China Sea, in Peninsular Malaysia.
He was surprised: "But, sir, you are a teacher. Why study?"
So we sat down and I told him all about this thing called Education and gave him a pep talk about his chances of becoming someone great in the future. He took one of my books - the thickest one - in his hands and upon opening it exclaimed, "Wow, the words are so tine and there are millions of them. How can you possibly finish reading it?"
I explained to him the importance of learning to read well and to make the best out of the lessons that he was learning at school, and that teachers like me, were specially sent to teach special children like him so that someday they could read great books like the one he was holding. He left my room.
When the other pupils learned that Sanggat always volunteered to sweep my room, they wanted to do the same and soon it became an almost daily ritual which ended up with me buying more brooms to maximise participation. And Sanggat would never fail to show them my books, each time adding a little commentary of his own about them in the Iban language.
I did not realise the impact my words had on him until the day I slipped in the river and broke my neck. I was to be paralysed from my shoulders downward for the rest of my life.
I was carried into a speedboat and transported back to civilisation. As I lay motionless and exhausted, I noticed that the whole school had gathered by the riverside to bid me farewell. A gaze at their faces told me that I was going to miss them. Then, as the engine of the speedboat started to roar, there was a little commotion by the river.
I could see Sanggat making his way to the boat. With tear-filled eyes, he approached and in between sobs he asked, "Sir, are you coming back?" "Perhaps not."
Then after a short pause he said, "Sir, if you can't come back, I'll see you in the university, ya?"
My heart was profoundly touched and as the boat moved away, I realised an important lesson of my own: Teachers must never fail to take time explaining positive lessons to the young ones. Simple and sincere gestures sometimes can have far reaching effects on them and life may never be the same again. It is the small simple pleasures we gather from life that ultimately bear great fruits of profound magnitude. We should watch out for every opportunity we have to assist the young ones towards self-accomplishments.
From Starmag
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
::Ash Greig's 10 Steps to True Success::
Imagine this: You’re sitting on a comfy chair in your home, sipping on a cup of hot mocha with your dog by your side. You’ve got a fat bank account, and go for holidays abroad at least twice a year. Your career is going strong, and it’s only a matter of days before your boss hands you over that promotion you’ve been working so hard for.
To the rest of the world, you’re as far as one goes when it comes to success. But do money and a career truly define real success? As important as they are, there are other aspects to living a meaningful life – all which we so easily forget in the madness of this constantly revolving world.
So here it is, my take on what it truly means to be a successful person:-
Step 1: Treat the ones who brought you up with love. Your parents sacrificed so much for you for years. Isn’t it about time you took over the reins? Try to make their remaining years the best in their life. :)
Step 2: Keep a savings account, and DON’T touch it. Even a small amount each month adds up to a huge sum by the end of the year. Make it a habit to always have a little something tucked away for emergencies – you never know when you’d need an umbrella when the rain comes pouring. :)
Step 3: Be thankful for everything in your life. Whether or not you believe in God, you’ve been blessed to have all that you have. Ever thought about those who die of starvation in Ethiopia each day? Or those who are forced to work 18 hours a day for a measly $1 daily? Learn to be grateful, and it will teach you to be humble. :)
Step 4: Find a job that you’re happy with, not something that simply pays well but drains the life out of you. A career only begins and develops with the right attitude and drive. What’s the point of earning so much but you struggle to drag yourself to work every morning? :)
Step 5: Help out at a local charity organization. Old folks home, the orphanage, SPCA – anything. If you’re not into giving monetary funds, donate your time instead. Listen to the 89 year-old uncle who rambles on about his days in the army. Volunteer as a cleaner at the dog pound. Your little acts of kindness will do wonders for so many others, and the joy it brings to see them smile is indescribable. :)
Step 6: Meditate. Having some “me” time alone is vital to keep you going. Put on Jim Brickman and sit yourself down. Block out everything and relax your mind. Do it daily for about 20 minutes and you’ll find yourself more able to deal with life’s craziness. :)
Step 7: Don’t forget your friends. It’s easy to simply say “I’m too busy to meet up.” Do it often enough and you’ll lose them one by one by the time you do make time to see them. The last thing you want is to grow old alone. Family is important, but so are friends. :)
Step 8: Smile more. When the promoter helps you find your favourite shade of eye shadow, smile at her and say “Thank you”. If she’s had a bad day, you’d be the one who made all the difference. It doesn’t cost much, yet leaves a huge impact on the ones around you. :)
Step 9: Stay true to yourself. Don’t compromise your beliefs and core values just because it doesn’t seem to fit the situation. All your friends drink but you don’t because you know it’s hazardous to health. Now you’re thinking of starting just so you can fit in and look cool? In the end you’re the one who is going to bed with that bad taste in your mouth and an even worse feeling in your gut – because you realize that you’ve forgotten who you are in the whirlwind of events around you. :)
Step 10: Be courteous. Respect can never be bought – it’s always earned. For one to respect you, you must first treat one with respect. Never forget to say“Thank you”, “Please” and “I’m sorry”, and you’ll go far in life. Being successful doesn’t mean that you’ve got all the money and power in the world. It’s about how you’ve lived your life with no regrets. :)
~Ashley Greig~
Monday, January 31, 2011
When You Are Down
When you are down,
always look for the good in things,
the silver lining of the thunderstorms,
the lights at the end of the tunnel;
for for every step up the staircase you took in the dark,
you are that much nearer to the door,
and the light!
always look for the good in things,
the silver lining of the thunderstorms,
the lights at the end of the tunnel;
for for every step up the staircase you took in the dark,
you are that much nearer to the door,
and the light!
~Casper Voon See Hua (facebook status, 31 Jan 2011)
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Meet the real Patch Adams
Dr Patch Adams has clowned around in 70 countries, visiting orphanages and nursing homes to bring cheer to the less fortunate.
CAN you imagine a world where no one knows what war is and have to look up a dictionary for its meaning?
Impossible though it may sound, it is the goal of one Dr Patch Adams who lost his father to the Korean War when he was 16.
So don’t be surprised if you are at one of his inspiring talks and end up hugging total strangers tightly or telling them that you love them. That’s exactly what happened at the Securities Commission in Kuala Lumpur on Friday, for no less than one-and-a-half hours!
Picture of fun: The real Dr Adams doesn’t wear a stuffy doctor’s coat but dresses in psychedelic outfits.The exercises (as Dr Adams calls them) comprise the first part of his talk titled: ‘What’s Your Love Strategy?’ at The Gathering Of Great Minds — Series 3, a series of talks organised by Live and Inspiremagazine.
Many of us would have known of Patch Adams from the hit movie starring Robin Williams. But there is more to Dr Adams than the Hollywood movie portrayed.
For starters, the real Dr Adams doesn’t wear a stuffy doctor’s coat. Instead, the 65-year-old physician dresses in psychedelic outfits, dons sneakers and sports an unusual fork earring. In his pockets are all kinds of props and gadgets, ranging from red noses to dental braces and even fake drool.
Behind the seeming eccentrics however lies a wealth of compassion and wisdom that comes from Dr Adams’ personal experience and thirst for knowledge. The funny doctor has 35,000 books in his library!
The six-foot Dr Adams, who easily commands attention, has been a clown every day since coming out from a psychiatric hospital at the age of 18. (See separate story.)
“Ninety-nine per cent of people will hug you when you are a clown. That won’t happen if you’re in a grey suit looking like an old fart,” Dr Adams says, amid laughter from a 300-strong audience.
Dr Adams is committed to what he does – being on the go 300 days a year. His two sons – Zag and Lars – join him on his trips around the world to cheer up the sick and less fortunate.
To date, Dr Adams has clowned around in 70 countries, visiting over 2,000 orphanages and 1,000 nursing homes. He even put on his clown’s act for five Trinidadian “death row” prisoners a day before they were executed.
Filled with love: Dr Adams getting the participants to hug each other during the talk.Dr Adams claims to have stopped many fights with his antics – be it on the streets or bars. And he has held no fewer than 2,000 starving children in his arms.
For a man whose life revolves around cheering up others, Dr Adams is disappointed at how impersonal people have become these days.
Relating his long journey from America to Malaysia that involved three flights, he laments: “No one had eye contact with anyone else. It seemed like second nature.”
It is this kind of indifference that Dr Adams is striving to change. Throughout his interactive session, the larger-than-life Dr Adams reaches out to the audience by sharing funny anecdotes, singing Country and Western songs and reciting several Pablo Neruda poems.
But it is more than just comic relief that he imparts – he drives home a message on the importance of love (and not necessarily the romantic kind).
“I have called up CNN many times as Patch Adams the famous guy to offer a love strategy: about a loving response (to war). Every single time I called up, whoever talked to me said no one would be interested,” he says.
“But I know many thousands of people and no one wants the war.”
He asks the audience if anyone thinks there are more important things in their lives than “loving”. Not a single hand shoots up.
“It’s unanimous. Loving to this audience is the most important thing in life. I’ve lectured about 30 million people and about 10 people have raised their hands. That is mathematically insignificant,” he declares.
But he quickly points out that no one has a philosophy on loving and how to carry it out.
“In my 45 years of asking people, no one has ever jumped right into discussion on how to love themselves, their God, their children, humanity, trees. Maybe CNN was right,” he says.
He points that the average American has 13 years of compulsory education of which five hours a week is devoted to science, history, mathematics and languages.
“But nothing is taught about the most important thing in life. Certainly no one would say mathematics is the most important thing in life.”
Dr Adams is amazed that most of America is depressed and miserable.
“If you have food and friends, it’s already a luxury.”
He also believes that depression is just a pharmaceutical company’s diagnosis.
“Depression is a symptom of loneliness. It is not a disease. Loneliness is the disease,” he says.
Dr Adams is dismayed that nature is being desecrated, that children are exploited as sex slaves and millions are starving to death.
He believes that humans are beautiful by nature but a lot of that beauty has been damaged because of money and power.
“There is no love strategy there, yet loving seems to be the most important thing. That’s why I do the things I do,” he shares, adding that he has been beaten up about 100 times and imprisoned a few times before (on a short-term basis).
For Dr Adams, friends remain the most important thing in his life.
“For me, a friend is my God. I love friends. When I answer my mail, I’m looking for friends.”
Dr Adams, who has yet to switch to the computer and still relies on snail mail, says he is in constant correspondence with 1,600 people and answers every single letter he receives.
He points out that humans have always been communal animals, adding that the nuclear family is an unnatural way of living.
He also assumes that strangers are friends he has not met yet, while friends are a possession.
“I’m addicted to people. If you sit next to me on an airplane, you are in trouble. If you’re in an elevator and that door shuts, I’m sorry,” he quips.
Ultimately, Dr Adams has two simple strategies for happiness – gratitude and love.
“At 18, I dove into the ocean of gratitude and I never found the shore. It has given me a very loving life.”
And the funny man has this wise maxim to share: “Be thankful for your arms and legs; for food and friends. Be thankful that you are alive.”
To find out more about Patch Adams, log on to patchadams.org
By RASHVINJEET S.BEDI
sunday@thestar.com.my
http://thestaronline.com/news/story.asp?file=/2010/11/28/nation/7516986&sec=nation
Facts about Dr Patch Adams
>Dr Adams was born Hunter Doherty Adams in 1945, the second son of a school teacher mum and a US army major dad.
> When Dr Adams’ father died in the Korean war, the family returned home to Virginia and he was thrown into the social chaos centering on racism and war that marked the beginning of the 60s.
A sensitive teenager, he became disillusioned with a world where injustice and power seemed to have more value than love and compassion. Dr Adams didn’t want to live in that world, and after three attempted suicides, he was hospitalised in a locked ward of a mental asylum.
> In the mental hospital, Dr Adams made two decisions: to serve humanity through medicine, and to never have another bad day!
> After graduating from medical school, Dr Adams began the Gesundheit Institute with a group of 20 friends, including three doctors who moved into a six-bedroom home in West Virginia and opened it as a free hospital.
The hospital was open 24 hours a day, seven days a week for all manner of medical problems, from birth to death. It treated 500 to 1,000 patients each month, with five to 50 overnight guests a night. Over its 12-year history, 15,000 patients were treated. Dances, home-made plays, humour, gardening – these were the social glue that held the medical project together.
> While the young medical team in West Virginia saw that it needed to make US healthcare a more humane and fun interaction, it also saw the huge need overseas for the same.
Dr Adams and his friends, all young idealistic doctors, headed where the need was greatest: to be involved in changing the situations of poverty, illness and suffering faced by millions across the globe. This subsequently led to the involvement of many young Americans in programmes to bring aid across the globe.
Source: patchadams.org
Friday, October 29, 2010
Patience
On one occasion, the Buddha was invited by a brahmin for alms to his house. As invited, the Buddha visited the house of the brahmin. Instead of entertaining Him, the brahmin poured forth a torrent of abuse with the filthiest of words.
The Buddha inquired:-
'Do visitors come to your house, good brahmin?'
'Yes', He replied.
'What do you do when they come?'
'Oh, we prepare a sumptuous feast.'
'If they fail to turn up?'
'Why, we gladly partake of it.'
'Well, good brahmin, you have invited me for alms and entertained me with abuse which I decline to accept. Please take it back.'
The Buddha inquired:-
'Do visitors come to your house, good brahmin?'
'Yes', He replied.
'What do you do when they come?'
'Oh, we prepare a sumptuous feast.'
'If they fail to turn up?'
'Why, we gladly partake of it.'
'Well, good brahmin, you have invited me for alms and entertained me with abuse which I decline to accept. Please take it back.'
Monday, October 18, 2010
:: Ash Greig's 10 Steps to Live Like You Were Dying ::
I recently lost a friend to cancer. We were not that close, but enough for me to learn a painful lesson about life, unfortunately at her expense. It was only after she passed on that it hit me: life is short, and if one doesn’t seize each moment, it’s gone forever. When I grow old, I don’t want to think back on my youth and wander if I had made the right choices or did all that I should have. I didn’t want any regrets.
I realized that the only way for one to be truly contented is to live free, and live life. Many people take it for granted that there will always be a tomorrow waiting. Things don’t work that way – if you’re meant to leave, you’re meant to leave. We don’t have the choice of saying “No, I want to stay longer.” The only thing we can do? Live each moment like it’s our last. I have been doing that ever since, and I've never looked back.
So here it is, my 10 steps to Live Like You Were Dying.
Step 1: Do something (safe!) you haven't done before. Never had sushi in your life? Grab your wallet/purse and go get some now! :)
Step 2: Tell the ones you care about how much you love them. One of you might or might not be around tomorrow - no point regretting things then. :)
Step 3: Learn to accept yourself for exactly who you are. The day you start loving yourself fully, will be the day you will learn to love others. :)
Step 4: Kick a bad habit! Addicted to 'Farmville'? Delete the app, and you'll realize that you'd have time to do more important things in life. :)
Step 5: Don't let that kid in you die. Go to the playground and jump on the swing, or nibble on gummy candy. You will realize that sometimes, grown-ups need a break too. :)
Step 6: Let go, and move on. Put your disappointments and anger in your past, and look forward to happiness and goals in your future. :)
Step 7: Don't settle. Dislike something in your life? Get rid of it! Go to bed in peace, and you'll find yourself waking up to a better day. :)
Step 8: Laugh, and laugh some more. Life sometimes can be depressing, but that doesn't mean YOU have to be depressed too. A smile on the face will make things more bearable. :)
Step 9: Don't be afraid to dream big. It's your dream, so don't let others decide how big or small it should be. :)
Step 10: Pledge to donate your organs. It is the biggest, most honourable gift a person can give to a fellow human being - the gift of life. :)
By Ash Greig
I realized that the only way for one to be truly contented is to live free, and live life. Many people take it for granted that there will always be a tomorrow waiting. Things don’t work that way – if you’re meant to leave, you’re meant to leave. We don’t have the choice of saying “No, I want to stay longer.” The only thing we can do? Live each moment like it’s our last. I have been doing that ever since, and I've never looked back.
So here it is, my 10 steps to Live Like You Were Dying.
Step 1: Do something (safe!) you haven't done before. Never had sushi in your life? Grab your wallet/purse and go get some now! :)
Step 2: Tell the ones you care about how much you love them. One of you might or might not be around tomorrow - no point regretting things then. :)
Step 3: Learn to accept yourself for exactly who you are. The day you start loving yourself fully, will be the day you will learn to love others. :)
Step 4: Kick a bad habit! Addicted to 'Farmville'? Delete the app, and you'll realize that you'd have time to do more important things in life. :)
Step 5: Don't let that kid in you die. Go to the playground and jump on the swing, or nibble on gummy candy. You will realize that sometimes, grown-ups need a break too. :)
Step 6: Let go, and move on. Put your disappointments and anger in your past, and look forward to happiness and goals in your future. :)
Step 7: Don't settle. Dislike something in your life? Get rid of it! Go to bed in peace, and you'll find yourself waking up to a better day. :)
Step 8: Laugh, and laugh some more. Life sometimes can be depressing, but that doesn't mean YOU have to be depressed too. A smile on the face will make things more bearable. :)
Step 9: Don't be afraid to dream big. It's your dream, so don't let others decide how big or small it should be. :)
Step 10: Pledge to donate your organs. It is the biggest, most honourable gift a person can give to a fellow human being - the gift of life. :)
By Ash Greig
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Serious Monkey Business
A Woman Trains Unlikely Soldiers in a War of Independence
Help came from a company that is the symbol of dreams come true-Disney. Disney World in Florida responded to Mary Joan's request and established a capuchin breeding colony on its Discovery Island, supplying Mary Joan's organization with almost all the little "helping hands" it needed. After five years, Disney World needed the space for expansion and provided the funding to move the breeding colony to a Boson zoo.
In 1977, Mary Joan Willard was making her daily rounds at the Tufts New England Medical Center in Boston. Her work, as part of her fellowship, was to study patients with severe physical injury in rehabilitation. It was there she met a twenty-three-year-old man named Joe.
A car accident had left Joe paralyzed from the neck down. Once active and robust, he now sat helplessly all day in a wheel-chair He couldn't slip a tape into a VCR, fix himself a sandwich, or even lift a finger to scratch a maddening itch. Like more than 100,000 other quadriplegics in the United States, Joe was completely dependent, even for his simplest and most personal needs.
It was this realization that deeply distressed Mary Joan. A woman with enormous self-initiative, she could only imagine how it felt to be trapped by total, permanent dependence. As a psychologist, she knew the emotional cost. Quadriplegics often give up on life, their spirits as paralyzed as their bodies. Mary Joan was convinced that if Joe could achieve some independence, his spirits might again soar.
Lying in bed one evening, a thought came to her-chimpanzees. Why couldn't chimps be trained to do many of the daily tasks to help someone in Joe's position?
The next day Mary Joan visited B. F. Skinner, the Harvard psychologist whose pioneering work with animals and behavior modification had made him world-famous. Mary Joan had worked as Skinner's assistant for three years and she hoped he wouldn't think her idea was crazy.
He didn't. In fact, he thought the idea had merit, but he did offer some caution. Chimps, he reminded her, become much stronger than and grow almost as big as humans. Chimps also have cranky temperaments. He suggested using capuchins instead, the little "organ grinder" monkeys that are intelligent, easy to train, and loyal to their masters. Bingo! Mary Joan was sold.
Nest, Mary Joan set out to sell others. After extensive research, she presented her idea to the director of her psychology program at Tufts University. The director almost fell out of his chair laughing. He could just see the headline: "Tufts Medical School Trains Monkeys to Take Care of Patients." Mary Joan wasn't amused and continued with her persuasive argument. Eventually she convinced him the idea was sound and he helped her get a $2,000 grant. This grant was the beginning of an organization called Helping Hands. It was not an auspicious start, but the money was enough to buy four monkeys and some cages and to hire student trainers for a dollar an hour.
Mary Joan's research indicated it would take about eight weeks to train the monkeys. Eight weeks passed and she was still trying to get them out of their cages. The first capuchins, acquired as adults, were former laboratory monkeys and were raised in isolation. Consequently, they were terrified of humans. It took two years of trial and error before Mary Joan had the first monkey ready to being work.
Despite the frustrating delays, Mary Joan and her new partner, Judi Zazula, worked tirelessly to raise needed funding. Thirty-eight grant proposals resulted in thirty-eight rejections. They were back at square one with Mary Joan working part-time as a psychologist to pay the bills.
Numerous agencies involved with severely disabled persons were interested in her idea, but all were skeptical. Some protested that it was demeaning to quadriplegics to use monkeys as helpers.
"Are Seeing Eye dogs demeaning to the blind?" she responded. Others suggested a mechanical robot would better suit the purpose.
"Can robots sit on your lap and put their arms around you?" she asked.
Other challenges facing Mary Joan and Judi involved training the monkeys to stay out of certain rooms and not get their mischievous little hands into everything. Mary Joan recalled sitting with Judi holding the latest proposal rejection on her lap and watching Hellion, their capuchin-in-training, destroy the place. She said, "Look at this place! To think they almost funded us!" and they both started laughing hysterically.
Mary Joan's patience, determination, and unwavering sense of purpose finally won out. After two years, Hellion, the first trained monkey, was ready to meet a twenty-five-year-old quadriplegic named Robert, who was alone nine hours a day. Hellion could scratch Roberts's itchy nose with a face cloth and put a tape in the VCR. She cold gently brush his hair, turn the lights on and off, put pre-packaged food in the microwave, and even bring Robert a cold drink from the refrigerator. Most important of all, Hellion could pick up Robert's mouth stick, the primary tool a quadriplegic uses for endless tasks, including dialing a telephone, starting a microwave, and turning the pages of a book. Furthermore, Hellion was a devoted companion who entertained Robert and offered unconditional affection.
So successful was the Hellion-Robert team that Mary Joan received her first major grant in 1979 from the Paralyzed Veterans of America. The grant allowed her and Judi to take small salaries, purchase needed equipment, and acquire a few young monkeys for training.
It wasn't long before requests for monkeys came from quadriplegics all across the country. Now the challenge was to find a safe, reliable source of trainable monkeys. Mary Joan and Judi could not continue to use laboratory animals or capuchins caught in the wild; they needed a breeding colony.
It was this realization that deeply distressed Mary Joan. A woman with enormous self-initiative, she could only imagine how it felt to be trapped by total, permanent dependence. As a psychologist, she knew the emotional cost. Quadriplegics often give up on life, their spirits as paralyzed as their bodies. Mary Joan was convinced that if Joe could achieve some independence, his spirits might again soar.
Lying in bed one evening, a thought came to her-chimpanzees. Why couldn't chimps be trained to do many of the daily tasks to help someone in Joe's position?
The next day Mary Joan visited B. F. Skinner, the Harvard psychologist whose pioneering work with animals and behavior modification had made him world-famous. Mary Joan had worked as Skinner's assistant for three years and she hoped he wouldn't think her idea was crazy.
He didn't. In fact, he thought the idea had merit, but he did offer some caution. Chimps, he reminded her, become much stronger than and grow almost as big as humans. Chimps also have cranky temperaments. He suggested using capuchins instead, the little "organ grinder" monkeys that are intelligent, easy to train, and loyal to their masters. Bingo! Mary Joan was sold.
Nest, Mary Joan set out to sell others. After extensive research, she presented her idea to the director of her psychology program at Tufts University. The director almost fell out of his chair laughing. He could just see the headline: "Tufts Medical School Trains Monkeys to Take Care of Patients." Mary Joan wasn't amused and continued with her persuasive argument. Eventually she convinced him the idea was sound and he helped her get a $2,000 grant. This grant was the beginning of an organization called Helping Hands. It was not an auspicious start, but the money was enough to buy four monkeys and some cages and to hire student trainers for a dollar an hour.
Mary Joan's research indicated it would take about eight weeks to train the monkeys. Eight weeks passed and she was still trying to get them out of their cages. The first capuchins, acquired as adults, were former laboratory monkeys and were raised in isolation. Consequently, they were terrified of humans. It took two years of trial and error before Mary Joan had the first monkey ready to being work.
Despite the frustrating delays, Mary Joan and her new partner, Judi Zazula, worked tirelessly to raise needed funding. Thirty-eight grant proposals resulted in thirty-eight rejections. They were back at square one with Mary Joan working part-time as a psychologist to pay the bills.
Numerous agencies involved with severely disabled persons were interested in her idea, but all were skeptical. Some protested that it was demeaning to quadriplegics to use monkeys as helpers.
"Are Seeing Eye dogs demeaning to the blind?" she responded. Others suggested a mechanical robot would better suit the purpose.
"Can robots sit on your lap and put their arms around you?" she asked.
Other challenges facing Mary Joan and Judi involved training the monkeys to stay out of certain rooms and not get their mischievous little hands into everything. Mary Joan recalled sitting with Judi holding the latest proposal rejection on her lap and watching Hellion, their capuchin-in-training, destroy the place. She said, "Look at this place! To think they almost funded us!" and they both started laughing hysterically.
Mary Joan's patience, determination, and unwavering sense of purpose finally won out. After two years, Hellion, the first trained monkey, was ready to meet a twenty-five-year-old quadriplegic named Robert, who was alone nine hours a day. Hellion could scratch Roberts's itchy nose with a face cloth and put a tape in the VCR. She cold gently brush his hair, turn the lights on and off, put pre-packaged food in the microwave, and even bring Robert a cold drink from the refrigerator. Most important of all, Hellion could pick up Robert's mouth stick, the primary tool a quadriplegic uses for endless tasks, including dialing a telephone, starting a microwave, and turning the pages of a book. Furthermore, Hellion was a devoted companion who entertained Robert and offered unconditional affection.
So successful was the Hellion-Robert team that Mary Joan received her first major grant in 1979 from the Paralyzed Veterans of America. The grant allowed her and Judi to take small salaries, purchase needed equipment, and acquire a few young monkeys for training.
It wasn't long before requests for monkeys came from quadriplegics all across the country. Now the challenge was to find a safe, reliable source of trainable monkeys. Mary Joan and Judi could not continue to use laboratory animals or capuchins caught in the wild; they needed a breeding colony.
Help came from a company that is the symbol of dreams come true-Disney. Disney World in Florida responded to Mary Joan's request and established a capuchin breeding colony on its Discovery Island, supplying Mary Joan's organization with almost all the little "helping hands" it needed. After five years, Disney World needed the space for expansion and provided the funding to move the breeding colony to a Boson zoo.
When they are six to eight weeks old, the monkeys are taken from the colony and placed in volunteer "foster homes." For the next three to five years, they learn basic skills and become comfortable living closely with humans. By the time the monkeys come to Helping Hands, they are housebroken and "cage trained" and have learned upon command to go to their "rooms" and close the door behind them. In the final twelve months of training, the capuchins learn specific skills used in working with quadriplegics, such as combing hair and handling a mouth stick.
This process may seem slow to some, but not to a visionary like Mary Joan Willard. She quickly reminds skeptics that the idea of guide dogs for the blind was debated for a hundred years before the Seeing Eye Program actually began.
By 1997, about 160 capuchins were living in the homes of volunteer families. Thirty-five quadriplegics have received their monkey helpers. Joe, who was Mary Joan's initial inspiration, regained a fair level of motion in his right arm and did not need the help of a monkey. Hundreds of other quadriplegics are not so fortunate and are still patiently waiting for the day when one of Helping Hand's remarkable little monkeys will return to them what they thought they'd lost forever – a little independence, a special form of companionship, and a little joy.
This process may seem slow to some, but not to a visionary like Mary Joan Willard. She quickly reminds skeptics that the idea of guide dogs for the blind was debated for a hundred years before the Seeing Eye Program actually began.
By 1997, about 160 capuchins were living in the homes of volunteer families. Thirty-five quadriplegics have received their monkey helpers. Joe, who was Mary Joan's initial inspiration, regained a fair level of motion in his right arm and did not need the help of a monkey. Hundreds of other quadriplegics are not so fortunate and are still patiently waiting for the day when one of Helping Hand's remarkable little monkeys will return to them what they thought they'd lost forever – a little independence, a special form of companionship, and a little joy.
"We both felt that if we did not see this through to the end, no one else would be crazy enough to do it. To give up would have been a disservice to quadriplegics and to ourselves."
-Mary Jan Willard-
Excerpted/Adapted from Unstoppable
Cynthia Kersey
-Mary Jan Willard-
Excerpted/Adapted from Unstoppable
Cynthia Kersey
This came through to my email on 2nd September 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Ash Greig's 10 Steps to Keeping Hope Alive
Hope is about the most difficult thing to find and keep alive. Every day when we wake up and face the world, we face challenges. Sometimes, we handle it just fine. Sometimes, it pulls us down so much we feel that we just don't have the strength to get on our feet again and move on. No matter how tough life gets, we always know that everything will turn out just fine. There is never an ending to anything – only a continuation and new beginnings.
I've had my share low moments in life – losing loved ones, less-than-impressive test results, painful goodbyes to friends, bad days at work and even embarrassing slip-and-falls in public. No matter how horrible I felt, I always knew that there was a rainbow at the end of the day, that one day I will be able to look back and be glad that I went through it all because it made me the strong person I am today.
Here it is, my very own 10 steps to Keeping Hope Alive.
Step 1: Be positive. The thing about hope is that it only lives within a positive mind, a positive environment. The day you stop being positive will be the day hope dies. :)
Step 2: Learn to trust. People might have hurt you deeply in the past, but that doesn't mean you stop believing in goodness. There are angels around us to help us through all our ups and downs – you just need to know who they are and thank your lucky stars for having them in your life. :)
Step 3: Help the ones who need you most. Not everyone is lucky to have a bowl of rice on their table each day or know what love is. Donate to an orphanage or spend a day making new friends at the old folks' home. You give them one day of happiness; you get a lifetime's worth of joy. :)
Step 4: Dream big. Most of us are afraid to think of something that we may never have, but it is the one thing that keeps our hope alive in the bleakest moments in life. :)
Step 5: Take one small step at a time. Don't rush into anything, and don't expect miracles to happen overnight. If you're trying to have a baby, don't try for two weeks and give up when the pregnancy test kit points to negative each day. Things will happen when it's meant to happen. :)
Step 6: Stay strong no matter what life throws at you. You lost a loved one, it will hurt. You will cry, you will be upset, but you will come out of it. Remember the good times, reminisce the memories shared, and you will find yourself smiling again. :)
Step 7: Ask yourself what matters most to you. It's not always about money or popularity; it's the values that you hold true to yourself, values that are important to you and make you happy. :)
Step 8: Remember that every wrong will turn out right. We all make mistakes, but it's not the end of the world. Deep inside we know things will one day be okay. :)
Step 9: Give hugs to the ones you care about. We all need to be reminded that we are not alone in this world and nothing says more than a warm hug from someone we love. :)
Step 10: Know that there are always new beginnings. Every one of us goes through some sort of pain at some point in our lives. It's how we learn to accept it and move on that makes life worth living. Don't ever forget that there is always a tomorrow waiting for us. :)
~Ashley Greig~
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