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| FOCUS on time Because time is the stuff life is made of, it deserves our careful scrutiny. Don't waste it. "Waste your money and you're only out of money, but waste your time and you've lost a part of your life." Michael Leboeuf. FOCUS on follow through We have to follow through on every step of our thinking, plans and goals, to their completion. "The immature mind hops from one thing to another; the mature mind seeks to follow through." American psychologist Harry A. Overstreet (1875~1970) "All the resources you need are in the mind." Theodore Roosevelt Inspiration "Whatever you send out, is what you draw back in. Take responsibility for the thoughts and emotions you send out, for they go into the universe and create the events and circumstances that come back to you." Not known. "Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything in life has a purpose. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross Snakes and Ladders As jealousy anticipates revenge, So envy swamps compassion in its wake; Thus petty men seek insults to avenge And reaching for a ladder grasp a snake. Anon Are You A Chicken Or An Eagle? A man found an eagle's egg and put it in a nest of a barnyard hen. The eaglet hatched with the brood of chicks and grew up with them. All his life the eagle did what the barnyard chicks did, thinking he was a barnyard chicken. He scratched the earth for worms and insects. He clucked and cackled. And he would thrash his wings and fly a few feet into the air. Years passed and the eagle grew very old. One day he saw a magnificent bird above him in the cloudless sky. It glided in graceful majesty among the powerful wind currents, with scarcely a beat on his strong golden wings. The old eagle looked up in awe. "Who's that?" he asked. "That's the eagle, the king of the birds," said his neighbour. "He belongs to the sky. We belong to the earth - we're chickens." So the eagle lived and died a chicken, for that's what he thought he was. Anthony de Mello CHOICES Every moment of every day we choose; Who we are and whom we forgive Who we defend and whom we protect To choose a side or walk the line To play the middle To straddle the fence between what is and what should be. A delicate balance of interest that can never exist Choosing by not choosing Defending a centre which cannot hold Until death chooses for us. What do you understand by this poem? Has it challenged your life choices or lack of them? Have you missed opportunities to grow by not choosing? Poem to help with bereavement: A Death in Winter by Jeni Couzyn Beside the exit, seated at a table is a grey clerk with a ledger. At his feet is a kind of box - a trunk perhaps, a hope chest or a rubbish bin. Cross-legged in the doorway my friend sits, watching light stream in through the opening. It soaks her in beauty. She has given back her future. In character, neatly folded, she placed it carefully in the box and the clerk ticked it off. Now she takes off her feet, like shoes gently, one beside the other: she takes her speech and returns it syllable by syllable she unpicks it thoughtfully, like knitting unravels it, one plain, one purl meaning by meaning: she gives back her hands - lays them down in the box with a smile. There is no regret in her. She knows their excellence. And now she gives back continence, choices, understanding the strange comings and goings about her. Everything she returns is fine and cared for. The clerk ticks it off in his ledger. She is hardly human now she is almost entirely love she has given back her children and very little of the personal is left in her heart. To the left of the doorway is a linen basket, A plump girl, laughing, kneels beside it. She is handing out gifts to the souls who come trooping in through the sunlight. Hands to grip a finger feet to walk the first smile Mama, Papa, I want, I think all the trappings of the journey. My friend smiles across at the girl as if she were a daughter. The radiance streams in and over her soon she will take off the last of her body and step out into the stillness. The Value of an Argument The Master argued with no one, for he knew that what the arguer sought, was confirmation of his beliefs, not the truth. He once showed them the value of an argument: "Does a slice of bread fall with the buttered side up or down?" "With the buttered side down, of course." "No, with the buttered side up." "Let’s put it to the test." So a slice of bread was buttered and thrown up in the air. It fell buttered side up. "I win!" "Only because I made a mistake." "What mistake?" "I obviously buttered the wrong side." Anthony de Mello 'THE GUEST HOUSE' This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they are a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice. meet them at the door laughing and invite them in. Be grateful for whatever comes. because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. Jelaluddin Rumi --------------------------------- |
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