There was once a lonely girl who longed desperately for love. One day while she was walking in the woods she found two starving songbirds. She took them home and put them in a small gilded cage.
She nurtured them with love and the birds grew strong. Every morning they greeted her with a marvelous song. The girl felt great love for the birds. She wanted their singing to last forever.
One day the girl left the door to the cage open. The larger and stronger of the two birds flew from the cage. The girl watched anxiously as he circled high above her. She was so frightened that he would fly away and she would never see him again that as he flew close, she grasped at him wildly.
She caught him in her fist. She clutched him tightly within her hand. Her heart gladdened at her success in capturing him. Suddenly she felt the bird go limp. She opened her hand and stared in horror at the dead bird.
Her desperate clutching love had killed him.
She noticed the other bird teetering on the edge of the cage. She could feel his great need for freedom, his need to soar into the clear, blue sky. She lifted him from the cage and tossed him softly into the air. The bird circled once, twice, three times.
The girl watched, delighted at the bird's enjoyment. Her heart was no longer concerned with her loss. She wanted the bird to be happy. Suddenly the bird flew closer and landed softly on her shoulder. It sang the sweetest melody she had ever heard.
The fastest way to lose love is to hold on too tight, the best way to keep love is to give it wings.
From the book, Love Stories of a different kind
Thursday, June 30, 2011
The Gift of Detachment
Once there lived a humble king. Every evening he would sit at the feet of a spiritual master in the forest. Besides him there were also other spiritual seekers including a sunyasin.
(A sunyasin is an ascetic in India who owns little more than the yellow robe on his or her back. The sunyasin has renounced possessions, relationships - everything. He or she lives by begging and is completely at the mercy of fate.)
This man's only possessions were his robe, a begging bowl and 2 loincloths.
Both the kind and the sunyasin were devoted, and they sat in the front row, one on each side of the master during the daily meditation.
One day the sunyasin exploded in anger at the master, "Look here," he said. "I have renounced everything to be a holy man. Yet you don't treat me with any more respect than this king who comes here in fine silks, wearing jewellery with priceless gems.
"He drinks wine and eats whenever he wants from golden plates. He has a harem, servants, and partakes of earthly pleasures without end.
"I have given up all possessions, yet you don't treat me with any more honour than you do this man!"
The master nodded, but said nothing. Similarly, the king was silent.
A few days later, during the master's daily teachings, a messenger burst in and urgently whispered something to the kind.
The king nodded calmly, dismissed the young man, and returned to his prayers. A few minutes later, another messenger hastily arrived and blurted out, "A fire has broken out, and it threatens the palace!"
The king nodded calmly and returned to his meditation.
Not long after that, a third messenger dashed in and shouted, "Your Majesty, the fire is at the gates of the palace!"
Again, the king nodded, but that was all.
The fire raced through the palace, and before long, reached the edge of the forest. Soon the prayer group could feel the very heat of the blaze against their faces.
Suddenly the sunyasin remembered that he had washed his extra loincloth and hung it up to dry in the branches of a nearby tree.
He jumped to his feet and went dashing toward it. Just then the raging fire stopped. The smoke was entirely gone, the sun was visible again, and the palace was shining serenely just beyond the forest.
The puzzled sunyasin stopped in mid-stride and asked, "What happened?"
The master replied, "Now tell me, who is attached and who is not?"
People are disturbed not by things, but by the view they take of them.
- Epictetus, Stoic philosopher of the 1st century
From the book Love Stories of a different kind
(A sunyasin is an ascetic in India who owns little more than the yellow robe on his or her back. The sunyasin has renounced possessions, relationships - everything. He or she lives by begging and is completely at the mercy of fate.)
This man's only possessions were his robe, a begging bowl and 2 loincloths.
Both the kind and the sunyasin were devoted, and they sat in the front row, one on each side of the master during the daily meditation.
One day the sunyasin exploded in anger at the master, "Look here," he said. "I have renounced everything to be a holy man. Yet you don't treat me with any more respect than this king who comes here in fine silks, wearing jewellery with priceless gems.
"He drinks wine and eats whenever he wants from golden plates. He has a harem, servants, and partakes of earthly pleasures without end.
"I have given up all possessions, yet you don't treat me with any more honour than you do this man!"
The master nodded, but said nothing. Similarly, the king was silent.
A few days later, during the master's daily teachings, a messenger burst in and urgently whispered something to the kind.
The king nodded calmly, dismissed the young man, and returned to his prayers. A few minutes later, another messenger hastily arrived and blurted out, "A fire has broken out, and it threatens the palace!"
The king nodded calmly and returned to his meditation.
Not long after that, a third messenger dashed in and shouted, "Your Majesty, the fire is at the gates of the palace!"
Again, the king nodded, but that was all.
The fire raced through the palace, and before long, reached the edge of the forest. Soon the prayer group could feel the very heat of the blaze against their faces.
Suddenly the sunyasin remembered that he had washed his extra loincloth and hung it up to dry in the branches of a nearby tree.
He jumped to his feet and went dashing toward it. Just then the raging fire stopped. The smoke was entirely gone, the sun was visible again, and the palace was shining serenely just beyond the forest.
The puzzled sunyasin stopped in mid-stride and asked, "What happened?"
The master replied, "Now tell me, who is attached and who is not?"
People are disturbed not by things, but by the view they take of them.
- Epictetus, Stoic philosopher of the 1st century
From the book Love Stories of a different kind
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
The Most Precious Thing
Long ago a young man and a young woman fell in love with each other and decided to marry. They had almost no money, but their trust in each other gave them faith that their future together will be bright, as long as they had each other.
Before the wedding, the girl came to her fiancé with a request. "I cannot imagine our ever wanting to be apart," she said. "But it may be that, in time, we will tire of each other, or that you will be angry with me, and want to send me to my parents' house. Promise me that if this should happen, you will allow me to carry back with me the thing that has grown most precious to me."
Her fiancé laughed, and could see no sense in what she asked, but the girl was not satisfied until he had written down his promise and signed his name to it. Then the two were married and began their life together.
They set their minds to improving their worldly position. The were both willing to work hard at it, and soon their patient industry found reward. Their first successes made them even more determined to put poverty behind them, and they worked harder than ever before.
Time passed, and they become comfortable, then well-to-do, and finally rich. They moved to a bigger house, found a new set of friends, and surrounded themselves with all the trappings of fortune.
But in their single-minded pursuit of wealth, they began to think more of their things than of each other. More and more, they quarreled about what to buy, or how much to spend, of how they should go about increasing their riches.
One afternoon, as they were preparing a feast for several important friends, they argued about some trivial matter - the flavour of the gravy, or perhaps the order of seating at the table. They began shouting at, and accusing each other.
"You care nothing for me!" cried the husband. "You think only of yourself, and the jewels and fine clothes you wear. Take those that are most precious to you, as I promised, and go back to your parents' house. There is no point in our going on together."
His wife suddenly went pare, and stared at him with a distracted look in her eyes, as if she had just seen something for the first time.
"Very well," she said quietly. "I am willing to go. But we must stay together one more night, and sit side bu side at our table, for the sake of appearances in front of our friends."
The evening arrived. The feast began. It was as bountiful as their ample means allowed. When, one by one, the guests had succumbed to its influence, and her husband, too, had fallen asleep, the good woman had him carried to her parents' cottage and laid in bed there.
When he woke up the next morning, he could not understand where he was. He raised himself up on his elbow to look about him, and at once his wife came to the bedside.
"My dear husband," she said softly, "Your promise was that if you ever sent me away I might carry with me the thing that was most precious to me. You are that most precious thing. I care for you more than anything else, and nothing but death shall part us."
At once the man saw how selfishly they had both acted. That same day they returned home and began to devote themselves once again to each other.
Words of love should be matched with deeds of love.
From the little book: Love stories of a different kind
Before the wedding, the girl came to her fiancé with a request. "I cannot imagine our ever wanting to be apart," she said. "But it may be that, in time, we will tire of each other, or that you will be angry with me, and want to send me to my parents' house. Promise me that if this should happen, you will allow me to carry back with me the thing that has grown most precious to me."
Her fiancé laughed, and could see no sense in what she asked, but the girl was not satisfied until he had written down his promise and signed his name to it. Then the two were married and began their life together.
They set their minds to improving their worldly position. The were both willing to work hard at it, and soon their patient industry found reward. Their first successes made them even more determined to put poverty behind them, and they worked harder than ever before.
Time passed, and they become comfortable, then well-to-do, and finally rich. They moved to a bigger house, found a new set of friends, and surrounded themselves with all the trappings of fortune.
But in their single-minded pursuit of wealth, they began to think more of their things than of each other. More and more, they quarreled about what to buy, or how much to spend, of how they should go about increasing their riches.
One afternoon, as they were preparing a feast for several important friends, they argued about some trivial matter - the flavour of the gravy, or perhaps the order of seating at the table. They began shouting at, and accusing each other.
"You care nothing for me!" cried the husband. "You think only of yourself, and the jewels and fine clothes you wear. Take those that are most precious to you, as I promised, and go back to your parents' house. There is no point in our going on together."
His wife suddenly went pare, and stared at him with a distracted look in her eyes, as if she had just seen something for the first time.
"Very well," she said quietly. "I am willing to go. But we must stay together one more night, and sit side bu side at our table, for the sake of appearances in front of our friends."
The evening arrived. The feast began. It was as bountiful as their ample means allowed. When, one by one, the guests had succumbed to its influence, and her husband, too, had fallen asleep, the good woman had him carried to her parents' cottage and laid in bed there.
When he woke up the next morning, he could not understand where he was. He raised himself up on his elbow to look about him, and at once his wife came to the bedside.
"My dear husband," she said softly, "Your promise was that if you ever sent me away I might carry with me the thing that was most precious to me. You are that most precious thing. I care for you more than anything else, and nothing but death shall part us."
At once the man saw how selfishly they had both acted. That same day they returned home and began to devote themselves once again to each other.
Words of love should be matched with deeds of love.
From the little book: Love stories of a different kind
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Will and Guy's Joke of the Day #28
Dear Abby,
I have never written to you before, but I really need your advice. I have suspected for some time now that my wife has been cheating on me. The usual signs. phone rings but if I answer, the caller hangs up.
My wife has been going out with 'the girls' a lot recently although when I ask their names she always says, 'just some friends from work, you don抰 know them.' I always try to stay awake to look out for her coming home, but I usually fall asleep. Anyway, I have never approached the subject with my wife. I think deep down I just didn抰 want to know the truth, but last night she went out again and I decided to really check on her.
Around midnight, I decided to hide in the garage behind my golf clubs so I could get a good view of the whole street when she arrived home from a night out with 'the girls'. It was at that moment, crouching behind my clubs, that I noticed that the graphite shaft on my driver appeared to have a hairline crack right by the club head.
Is this something I can fix myself or should I take it back to the golf shop where I bought it?
Thanks Jim
================================================================
* Another Batch of 'Dear Abby' Letters
Dear Abby, I've suspected that my husband has been fooling around, and when confronted with the evidence, he denied everything, and then said it would never happen again.
Dear Abby, I joined the Navy to see the world. Now I've seen it, how do I get out?
Dear Abby, My forty year old son has been paying a psychiatrist $50.00 an hour every week for two and a half years. He must be crazy.
Dear Abby, I was married to Bill for three months and I didn't know he drank until one night he came home sober.
Dear Abby, My mother is mean and short tempered; I think she is going through mental pause.
I have never written to you before, but I really need your advice. I have suspected for some time now that my wife has been cheating on me. The usual signs. phone rings but if I answer, the caller hangs up.
My wife has been going out with 'the girls' a lot recently although when I ask their names she always says, 'just some friends from work, you don抰 know them.' I always try to stay awake to look out for her coming home, but I usually fall asleep. Anyway, I have never approached the subject with my wife. I think deep down I just didn抰 want to know the truth, but last night she went out again and I decided to really check on her.
Around midnight, I decided to hide in the garage behind my golf clubs so I could get a good view of the whole street when she arrived home from a night out with 'the girls'. It was at that moment, crouching behind my clubs, that I noticed that the graphite shaft on my driver appeared to have a hairline crack right by the club head.
Is this something I can fix myself or should I take it back to the golf shop where I bought it?
Thanks Jim
================================================================
* Another Batch of 'Dear Abby' Letters
Dear Abby, I've suspected that my husband has been fooling around, and when confronted with the evidence, he denied everything, and then said it would never happen again.
Dear Abby, I joined the Navy to see the world. Now I've seen it, how do I get out?
Dear Abby, My forty year old son has been paying a psychiatrist $50.00 an hour every week for two and a half years. He must be crazy.
Dear Abby, I was married to Bill for three months and I didn't know he drank until one night he came home sober.
Dear Abby, My mother is mean and short tempered; I think she is going through mental pause.
The Trouble Tree
I hired a plumber to help me restore an old farmhouse, and after he had just finished a rough first day on the job, a flat tyre made him lose an hour of work, his electric drill quit and his ancient one-ton truck refused to start. While I drove him home, he sat in stony silence.
When we arrived at his house, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked towards the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree and touched the tips of the branches with both hands.
As the plumber opened the door, he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss. After that, he walked me to the car.
As we passed the tree, my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.
"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure - those troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and children. So I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home and ask God to take care of them.
"Then in the morning I pick them up again.
"The funny thing is," the plumber smiled, "when I come out to pick them up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."
Sent in to Starmag by Dennis Chee
When we arrived at his house, he invited me in to meet his family. As we walked towards the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree and touched the tips of the branches with both hands.
As the plumber opened the door, he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face was wreathed in smiles and he hugged his two small children and gave his wife a kiss. After that, he walked me to the car.
As we passed the tree, my curiosity got the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.
"Oh, that's my trouble tree," he replied. "I know I can't help having troubles on the job, but one thing's for sure - those troubles don't belong in the house with my wife and children. So I just hang them up on the tree every night when I come home and ask God to take care of them.
"Then in the morning I pick them up again.
"The funny thing is," the plumber smiled, "when I come out to pick them up, there aren't nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before."
Sent in to Starmag by Dennis Chee
Friday, June 3, 2011
The Long Haul
Mum and Dad were watching TV when Mum said, "I'm tired, and it's getting late. I think I'll go to bed." She went to the kitchen to make sandwiches for the next day's lunch, rinsed out the popcorn bowls, took meat out of the freezer for supper the following evening, checked the cereal box levels, filled the sugar container, put spoons, bowls on the table and started the coffee pot for brewing the next morning.
She then put some wet clothes in the dryer, put a load of clothes onto the washer, ironed a shirt and secured a loose button. She picked up the game pieces left on the table, put the phone back on the charger and the telephone book into the drawer.
Next, she watered the plants, emptied a wastebasket and hung a towel up to dry. She yawned and stretched and headed for the bedroom. But she stopped by the desk and wrote a note to the teacher, counted out some cash for the school excursion and pulled a textbook out from under the chair.
She then signed a birthday card for a friend, addressed and stamped the envelope, wrote a quick note for the grocery store and put both near her bag.
Mum then washed her face, put on some night cream, brushed and flossed her teeth and filed her nails.
Dad called out, "I thought you were going to bed."
"I'm on my way," she said.
She put some water into the dog's dish and put the cat outside, then made sure the doors were locked and the patio light was on. She walked into each of the children's rooms and turned out their bedside lamps and radios, hung up a shirt, threw some dirty socks into the hamper, and had a brief conversation with the kid who was still up and doing his homework.
In her own room, she set the alarm, laid out clothes for the next day and straightened up the shoe rack. She said her prayers, and visualised the accomplishment of her goals.
About that time, Dad turned off the TV and announced to no one in particular, "I'm going to bed." And he did ... without another thought.
Sent to Starmag by Sathy Veera
She then put some wet clothes in the dryer, put a load of clothes onto the washer, ironed a shirt and secured a loose button. She picked up the game pieces left on the table, put the phone back on the charger and the telephone book into the drawer.
Next, she watered the plants, emptied a wastebasket and hung a towel up to dry. She yawned and stretched and headed for the bedroom. But she stopped by the desk and wrote a note to the teacher, counted out some cash for the school excursion and pulled a textbook out from under the chair.
She then signed a birthday card for a friend, addressed and stamped the envelope, wrote a quick note for the grocery store and put both near her bag.
Mum then washed her face, put on some night cream, brushed and flossed her teeth and filed her nails.
Dad called out, "I thought you were going to bed."
"I'm on my way," she said.
She put some water into the dog's dish and put the cat outside, then made sure the doors were locked and the patio light was on. She walked into each of the children's rooms and turned out their bedside lamps and radios, hung up a shirt, threw some dirty socks into the hamper, and had a brief conversation with the kid who was still up and doing his homework.
In her own room, she set the alarm, laid out clothes for the next day and straightened up the shoe rack. She said her prayers, and visualised the accomplishment of her goals.
About that time, Dad turned off the TV and announced to no one in particular, "I'm going to bed." And he did ... without another thought.
Sent to Starmag by Sathy Veera
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