A time comes in your life when you finally get it -- when, in the midst of all your fears and insanity, you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out - ENOUGH!
Enough fighting and crying or struggling to hold on. And, like a child quieting down after a blind tantrum, your sobs begin to subside, you shudder once or twice, you blink back your tears and begin to look at the world through new eyes.
This is your awakening.
You realize it's time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change or for happiness, safety and security to come galloping over the next horizon. You come to terms with the fact that you are not Prince Charming / Cinderella and that in the real world there aren't always fairy tale endings (or beginnings for that matter) and that any guarantee of "happily ever after" must begin with you and in the process, a sense of serenity is born of acceptance.
You awaken to the fact that not everyone will always love, appreciate or approve of who or what you are and that's OK. They are entitled to their own views and opinions. And you learn the importance of loving and championing yourself and in the process a sense of newfound confidence is born of self-approval.
You stop complaining and blaming other people for the things they did to you (or didn't do for you) and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected.
You learn that people don't always say what they mean or mean what they say and that not everyone will always be there for you and that it's not always about you. So, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself and in the
process a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance. You stop judging and pointing fingers and you begin to accept people as they are and to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties and in the process a sense of peace and contentment are born of forgiveness. You realize that much of the way you view yourself, and the world around you, is as a result of all the messages and opinions that have been ingrained into your psyche.
And you begin to sift through all the junk you've been fed about how your should behave, how you should look, how much you should weigh, what you should wear, what you should do for a living, how much money you should make, what you should drive, how and where you should live, who you should marry, the importance of having and raising children, and what you owe your parents, family, and friends.
You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. And you begin reassessing and redefining who you are and what you really stand for.
You learn the difference between wanting and needing and you begin to discard the doctrines and values you've outgrown, or should never have bought into to begin with and in the process you learn to go with your instincts. You learn that it is truly in giving that we receive.
And that there is power and glory in creating and contributing and you stop maneuvering through life merely as a "consumer" looking for your next fix.
You learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not the outdated ideals of a bygone era but the mortar that holds together the foundation upon which you must build a life.
You learn that you don't know everything, it's not your job to save the world and that you can't teach a pig to sing. You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility and the importance of setting boundaries and learning to say NO.
You learn that the only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry and that martyrs get burned at the stake.
Then you learn about love -- how to love, how much to give in love, when to stop giving and when to walk away. You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be.
You stop trying to control people, situations and outcomes. And you learn that alone does not mean lonely. You also stop working so hard at putting your feelings aside, smoothing things over and ignoring your needs.
You learn that feelings of entitlement are perfectly OK and that it is your right to want things and to ask for the things you want and that sometimes it is necessary to make demands.
You come to the realization that you deserve to be treated with love, kindness, sensitivity and respect and you won't settle for less. And you learn that your body really is your temple. And you begin to care for it and treat it with respect.
You begin to eat a balanced diet, drink more water, and take more time to exercise.
You learn that being tired fuels doubt, fear and uncertainty and so you take more time to rest.
And just as food fuels the body, laughter fuels our soul. So you take more time to laugh and to play.
You learn that, for the most part, you get in life what you believe you deserve and that much of life truly is a self-fulfilling prophecy. You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for and that wishing for something to happen is different than working toward making it happen.
More importantly, you learn that in order to achieve success you need direction, discipline and perseverance. You also learn that no one can do it all alone and that it's OK to risk asking for help.
You learn the only thing you must truly fear is the greatest robber baron of all: FEAR itself. You learn to step right into and through your fears because you know that whatever happens, you can handle it and to give in to fear is to give away the right to live life on your own terms.
And you learn to fight for your life and not to squander it living under a cloud of impending doom.
You learn that life isn't always fair, you don't always get what you think you deserve and that sometimes, bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people.
On these occasions you learn not to personalize things. You learn that God isn't punishing you or failing to answer your prayers.
It's just life happening.
And you learn to deal with evil in its most primal state - the ego. You learn that negative feelings such as anger, envy and resentment must be understood and redirected or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you.
You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls. You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted; things that millions of people upon the earth can only dream about: a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower.
Slowly, you begin to take responsibility for yourself, by yourself.
You make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never, ever settle for less than your heart's desire.
And you hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind.
You make it a point to keep smiling, to keep trusting, and to stay open to every wonderful possibility.
Finally, with courage in your heart you take a stand, you take a deep breath, and you begin to design the life you want to live as best you can.
A Sunday school teacher was having a hard time getting her young students to grasp the meaning of a Good Samaritan.
Finally she asked one child who didn't seem very interested, "Susie, suppose on your way to church you passed a vacant lot and saw a man in ragged clothes lying on the ground, so badly beaten up that he was covered in blood...
What would you do?"
"I'd throw up!" the eight-year-old responded.
An incident that happened during Ignace Paderewski's career.
The famous Polish pianist agreed to play a concert organized by two Stanford University students working their way through school.
Paderewski's manager said they would have to guarantee the artist a fee of $2,000. The boys agreed and eventually the concert was held.
Though the two student promoters worked hard, they took in only $1,600. Discouraged, they told Paderewski of their efforts and handed him the $1,600 with a note promising to pay him the balance of $400.
But the artist tore up the note and gave them back the $1,600. "Take your expenses out of this," he said, "give yourselves each 10% of what's left for your work, and let me have the rest."
Years later, Paderewski was faced with feeding the people of his war-ravaged Poland. Amazingly, even before a request was made, thousands of tons of food were sent to Poland by the United States.
Paderewski later traveled to Paris to thank Herbert Hoover, who headed up the US relief effort.
"That's all right, Mr. Paderewski," said Hoover,
"I knew that the need was great. And besides, though you may not remember it, I was one of the two college students whom you generously helped when I was in need."
Paderewski reaped a harvest he had sown years before.
And so it is.
When we give, we receive.
Maybe not exactly the thing we gave, and maybe not at the time it was given.
It is also true that when we give from our hearts, when we give in a spirit of love and compassion, we receive even more than we gave.
It's a basic law of successful living.
Powerful enough to change a life.
An elementary school teacher was working on a program to help her
students with their sensory perception.
On the day for the children to
discover their sense of taste she brought in a variety of Lifesavers and instructed the students to close their eyes and identify the candies flavors.
They got flavors such as cherry, lemon, and pineapple just fine.
But when it came to Honey they all were stumped.
"I'll give you all a hint" she said "It's something your parents probably call each other alot."
One child immediatly coughed and cryed " Spit 'em out there a$$holes!!!"
Use What You Have!
On Nov. 18, 1995, Itzhak Perlman, appeared at Lincoln Center in New York City.
If you have ever been to a Perlman concert, you know that taking the stage is no minor achievement for him.
As a child, he was stricken with polio and since then, he has worn braces on both legs and walks with the aid of crutches.
To see him walk slowly across the stage, a step at a time, is an unforgettable sight. He walks painfully, yet majestically, to his chair.
Then he slowly sits, puts his crutches on the floor, undoes the clasps on his legs, tucks one foot back and extends the other foot forward. He bends down to pick up the violin, puts it under his chin, and nods to the conductor to begin.
The audience is familiar with the ritual and sits quietly, reverently, while he makes his way across the stage to his chair, undoes the clasps on his legs and is ready to play.
On this night, he had just begun the first few bars, when a string broke.
You could hear it snap; it went off like gunfire across the room. There was no mistaking that sound or what he had to do.
People who were there that night said "We figured he would have to get up, put on the clasps, take the crutches and limp his way off stage, to replace the violin or find another string."
But he didn't.
He waited a moment, closed his eyes and then signaled to the conductor to begin again.
The orchestra began and Mr. Perlman came in.
He played with such passion, power and clarity, as they had never heard before.
Of course, it is impossible to perform a symphonic work with three strings.
Everyone knows that.
But that night Itzhak Perlman refused to acknowledge that.
The audience was mesmerized as they watched him modulating, changing and recomposing the piece in his head.
At one point, it appeared as though he was re-tuning the strings to get sounds they had not made before.
When he finished, there was a deafening silence In the room; then the audience rose and cheered.
There was an extraordinary outburst of applause from every corner of the auditorium.
We were on our feet, screaming and cheering, doing everything we could to show how much we appreciated what he had done. He smiled, wiped the sweat from his brow, and raised his bow to quiet us.
Then he said, not boastfully, but in a quiet, pensive, reverent tone "You know, sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left."
What a powerful line; it has stayed in my mind ever since.
Perhaps that is the reality for all of us.
In this shaky, fast-changing, bewildering world, our task is to make music with all that we have, and when that is no longer possible, we make music with what we have left.
Use what you have!
An award should go to the United Airlines gate agent in Denver for being smart and funny, and making her point, when confronted with a passenger who probably deserved to fly cargo.
During the final days at Denver's old Stapleton airport, a crowded United flight was canceled. A single agent was re-booking a long line of inconvenienced travelers.
Suddenly an angry passenger pushed and shoved his way to the desk. He slapped his ticket down on the counter and said, "I HAVE to be on this flight and it HAS to be FIRST CLASS!"
The agent replied, "I'm sorry sir, I'll be happy to help you, but I've got to help these folks first, and I'm sure we'll be able to work
something out for you."
The passenger was unimpressed. He asked loudly, so that the passengers behind him could hear, "Do you haveany idea WHO I AM?"
Without hesitating, the gate agent smiled and grabbed the public
address system microphone. "May I have your attention ladies and gentleman? she began, her voice bellowing throughout the terminal.
"We have a passenger here at the gate WHO DOES NOT KNOW WHO HE IS. If any one can help him find his identiy, please come to the gate."
With the folks behind him in line laughing hysterically, the man glared at the United agent, gritted his teeth and swore, "F___ YOU!"
Without flinching, she smiled and said, "I'm sorry sir, but you'll have to stand in line for that too."
The man retreated as the people in the terminal applauded and cheered loudly as many screamed out in laughter.
Althought the flight was canceled and people were late, they were no longer angry at United.
Many letters of praise were sent to the President of United Airlines, on behalf of the gate agent, who has since retired.
She had been shopping with her Mom in Wal-Mart. She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful brown haired, freckle-faced image of innocence.
It was pouring outside.
The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the Earth it has no time to flow down the spout.
We all stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the Walmart. We waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed up their hurried day.
I am always mesmerized by rainfall. I get lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world.
Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child come pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day. Her voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in.
"Mom, let's run through the rain," she said. "What?" Mom asked.
"Let's run through the rain!" She repeated. "No, honey. We'll wait until it slows down a bit," Mom replied.
This young child waited about another minute and repeated: "Mom, Let's run through the rain." "We'll get soaked if we do," Mom said.
"No, we won't, Mom. That's not what you said this morning," the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom's arm. "This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?"
"Don't you remember? When you were talking to daddy about his cancer, you said, 'If God can get us through this, He can get us through anything!'"
The entire crowd stopped dead silent.
I swear you couldn't hear anything but the rain.
We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes. Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say. Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what was said.
But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child's life. A time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith.
"Honey, you are absolutely right. Let's run through the rain. If God let's us get wet, well maybe we just needed washing," Mom said.
Then off they ran. We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and yes, through the puddles. They held their shopping bags over their heads just in case.
They got soaked.
But they were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars.
And yes, I did.
I ran.
I got wet. I needed washing.
Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions,they can take away your money, and they can take away your health.
But no one can ever take away your precious memories.......
So, don't forget to make time and take the opportunities to make memories every day!
To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.
THE POEM
Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
And before I know it, a year is gone.
And I never see my old friends face,
For life is a swift and terrible race,
He knows I like him just as well,
As in the days when I rang his bell.
And he rang mine but we were younger then,
Tired of trying to make a name.
"Tomorrow" I say! "I will call on him
Just to show that I'm thinking of him."
But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes,
And distance between us grows and grows.
Around the corner, yet miles away,
"Here's a telegram sir," "Your friend died today."
And that's what we get and deserve in the end.
Around the corner, a vanished friend.
Remember to always say what you mean.
If you love someone, tell them.
Don't be afraid to express yourself.
Reach out and tell someone what they mean to you.
Because when you decide that
it is the right time it might be too late.
Seize the day. Never have regrets.
And most importantly, stay close to your friends,
for they have helped make you the person that you are today.
A Heartwarming Christmas Story
Late last night, I was rushing around trying to get some Christmas shopping done. I was stressed out and not thinking very fondly of the Christmas season right then. It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was loading my car up with gifts that I felt obligated to buy.
I noticed that I was missing a receipt that I might need later. So mumbling under my breath, I retraced my steps to the shopping center entrance. As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet sobbing.
The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12 years old. He was short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged flannel shirt to protect him from the cold night's chill.
Oddly enough, he was holding a hundred dollar bill in his hand. Thinking that he had gotten lost from his parents, I asked him what was wrong.
He told me his sad story.
He said that he came from a large family. He had three brothers and four sisters. His father had died when he was nine years old. His mother was poorly educated and worked two full time jobs. She made very little to support her large family. Nevertheless, she had managed to skimp and save two hundred dollars to buy her children Christmas presents.
The young boy had been dropped off, by his mother, on the way to her second job. He was supposed to use the money to buy presents for all his siblings, then save just enough to take the bus home.
He had not even entered the mall, when an older boy grabbed one of the hundred dollar bills and disappeared into the night.
I asked him why he didn't scream for help.
He said that he did. "And nobody came to help you?" I wondered.
The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head no.
"How loud did you scream?" I inquired.
The soft-spoken boy looked up and meekly whispered, "help me!"
I realized that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry for help...
...so I grabbed his other hundred dollar bill and ran to my car.
