Thoughtful and Inspirational Stories

7/29/2019 Thoughtful and Inspirational Stories

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9/18/13 Thoughtful and inspirational stories

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STORIES TO MAKE YOU THINK

55 thoughtful stories, motivational tales, and pieces of wisdom from around the world

Some of the most memorable lessons in life come from stories - whether these be nursery rhymes

or children's fables read to us by our parents, parables from the Bible or Jewish wisdom tales, ormotivational booklets like "Who Moved My Cheese?" [click here]. I thought that it would be fun

and helpful to collect some of the stories that I've found meaningful and share them with you. Each

new story is added at the top of the page, so visit as often as you like and feel free to e-mail me

your story.

"Tell me a fact and Ill learn. Tell me a truth and Ill believe. But tell me a story

and it will live in my heart forever."

Native American proverb

"All stories teach, whether the storyteller intends them to or not. They teach theworld we create. They teach the morality we live by. They teach it much more

effectively than moral precepts and instructions".

Philip Pullman, author of the "His Dark Materials" trilogy, speaking in 1996

"Everything we know comes in the form of a story, a narrative with a beginning

and end. Delia Smiths recipes and the handbook of latest version of Windows

are stories just as much as 'Coronation Street'. A thing becomes meaningful only

when we can embed it in a story."

Dorothy Rowe, "The Independent on Sunday", 31 March 1996

"Human beings are meaning-seeking creatures; we crave narratives that have a

beginning and an end - something that we rarely encounter in everyday life.

Stories give coherence to the confusion of our experience."

Author Karen Armstrong, "Guardian", 26 August 2006

"Stories are memory aids, instruction manuals and moral compasses."

Aleks Krotoski, "Observer", 7 August 2011

"Stories are compensatory. The world is unfair, unjust, unknowable, out of

control.""Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?" by Jeannette Winterson (2011)

"Telling stories is our way of coping, a way of creating shape out of a mess. It

binds everyone together."

Canadian film director Sarah Polley, "Observer", 23 June 2013

Contents

The law of the garbage truck
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www.rogerdarlington.me.uk/stories.html 2

The two hospital patients

The tiger's whisker

The hedgehogs

The fence

Your influence on the universe

A turn of the screw

Every bucket counts

Two frogs in the milkA story for Passover

Piece of mind

Jumping the queue

Knowledge and wisdom

The starfish

The American dream

Alexander and Diogenes

Testing for gossip

Rafting

The mouse trap

A foot has no nose

From Russia with love

Virtually no competition

The little wave

Believe what you feel

Everyone can play

I must at least try

King Arthur and the witch

Helping handsThe teacher and the taught

Going the extra mile

Who you are

Different perspectives

The eagle

The three races

The obstacle in our path

Bad by name; bad by nature?

Everyone is important

The carrot, the egg, and the coffeebean

The two wolves

The great fire and the little water

A sense of a goose

The seeker of truth

A meeting of minds

Chopsticks

The problem with dandelions
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In the same boat

The frogs and the tower

The international food shortage

The Japanese master

The secret of happiness

The house with the golden windows

Nothing is written

The Chinese farmerKing Solomon and the baby

The wise teacher and the jar

Listening - at Christmas and always

The law of the garbage truck

One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport. We were driving in the

right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of

us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by justinches!

The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi

driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly. So I

asked, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the

hospital!' This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, 'The Law of the

Garbage Truck'.

He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of

garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbagepiles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. Don't

take it personally, just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their

garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets.

The two hospital patients

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed

to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His

bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flaton his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families,

their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been

on holiday.

And every afternoon when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would

pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the

window. The man in the other bed began to live for those one-hour periods where his

world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and colour of the world

outside.
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The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the

water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst

flowers of every colour of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape and a

fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other

side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man couldn't hear the band - he could see it in his mind's eye as the

gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Days and weeks

passed.

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the

lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was

saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away. As soon as it

seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.

The nurse was happy to make the switch and, after making sure he was comfortable,she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his

first look at the world outside. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it for himself.

He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed.

It faced a blank wall. The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his

deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall. She

said, "Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you."

The tiger's whisker

Once upon a time, a young wife named Yun Ok was at her wit's end. Her husband

had always been a tender and loving soulmate before he had left for the wars but, ever

since he returned home, he was cross, angry, and unpredictable. She was almost

afraid to live with her own husband. Only in glancing moments did she catch a shadow

of the husband she used to know and love.

When one ailment or another bothered people in her village, they would often rush for

a cure to a hermit who lived deep in the mountains. Not Yun Ok. She always pridedherself that she could heal her own troubles. But this time was different. She was

desperate.

As Yun Ok approached the hermit's hut, she saw the door was open. The old man

said without turning around: "I hear you. What's your problem?"

She explained the situation. His back still to her, he said, "Ah yes, it's often that way

when soldiers return from the war. What do you expect me to do about it?"


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"Make me a potion!" cried the young wife. "Or an amulet, a drink, whatever it takes

to get my husband back the way he used to be."

The old man turned around. "Young woman, your request doesn't exactly fall into the

same category as a broken bone or ear infection."

"I know", said she.

"It will take three days before I can even look into it. Come back then."

Three days later, Yun Ok returned to the hermit's hut. "Yun Ok", he greeted her with

a smile, "I have good news. There is a potion that will restore your husband to the

way he used to be, but you should know that it requires an unusual ingredient. You

must bring me a whisker from a live tiger."

"What?" she gasped. "Such a thing is impossible!"

"I cannot make the potion without it!" he shouted, startling her. He turned his back.

"There is nothing more to say. As you can see, I'm very busy."

That night Yun Ok tossed and turned. How could she get a whisker from a live tiger?

The next day before dawn, she crept out of the house with a bowl of rice covered

with meat sauce. She went to a cave on the mountainside where a tiger was known to

live. She clicked her tongue very softly as she crept up, her heart pounding, and

carefully set the bowl on the grass. Then, trying to make as little noise as she could,

she backed away.

The next day before dawn, she took another bowl of rice covered with meat sauce tothe cave. She approached the same spot, clicking softly with her tongue. She saw that

the bowl was empty, replaced the empty one with a fresh one, and again left, clicking

softly and trying not to break twigs or rustle leaves, or do anything else to startle and

unsettle the wild beast.

So it went, day after day, for several months. She never saw the tiger (thank goodness

for that! she thought) though she knew from footprints on the ground that the tiger -

and not a smaller mountain creature - had been eating her food. Then one day as she

approached, she noticed the tiger's head poking out of its cave. Glancing downward,

she stepped very carefully to the same spot and with as little noise as she could, setdown the fresh bowl and, her heart pounding, picked up the one that was empty.

After a few weeks, she noticed the tiger would come out of its cave as it heard her

footsteps, though it stayed a distance away (again, thank goodness! she thought,

though she knew that someday, in order to get the whisker, she'd have to come closer

to it).

Another month went by. Then the tiger would wait by the empty food bowl as it heard

her approaching. As she picked up the old bowl and replaced it with a fresh one, she


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could smell its scent, as it could surely smell hers.

"Actually", she thought, remembering its almost kittenish look as she set down a fresh

bowl, "it is a rather friendly creature, when you get to know it." The next time she

visited, she glanced up at the tiger briefly and noticed what a lovely downturn of

reddish fur it had from over one of its eyebrows to the next. Not a week later, the

tiger allowed her to gently rub its head, and it purred and stretched like a house cat.

Then she knew the time had come. The next morning, very early, she brought with her

a small knife. After she set down the fresh bowl and the tiger allowed her to pet its

head, she said in a low voice: "Oh, my tiger, may I please have just one of your

whiskers?" While petting the tiger with one hand, she held one whisker at its base and,

with the other hand, in one quick stroke, she carved the whisker off. She stood up,

speaking softly her thanks, and left, for the last time.

The next morning seemed endless. At last her husband left for the rice fields. She ran

to the hermit's hut, clutching the precious whisker in her fist. Bursting in, she cried to

the hermit: "I have it! I have the tiger's whisker!"

"You don't say?" he said, turning around. "From a live tiger?"

"Yes!" she said.

"Tell me", said the hermit, interested. "How did you do it?"

Yun Ok told the hermit how, for the last six months, she had earned the trust of the

creature and it had finally permitted her to cut off one of its whiskers. With pride she

handed him the whisker. The hermit examined it, satisfied himself that it was indeed a

whisker from a live tiger, then flicked it into the fire where it sizzled and burned in an

instant.

"Yun Ok", the hermit said softly, "you no longer need the whisker. Tell me, is a man

more vicious than a tiger? If a dangerous wild beast will respond to your gradual and

patient care, do you think a man will respond any less willingly?"

Yun Ok stood speechless. Then she turned and stepped down the trail, turning over in

her mind images of the tiger and of her husband, back and forth. She knew what she

could do.

Source: Korean fable

The hedgehogs

It was the coldest winter ever. Many animals died because of the cold.

The hedgehogs, realizing the situation, decided to group together to keep warm. This

way they covered and protected themselves; but the quills of each one wounded their


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closest companions.

After awhile, they decided to distance themselves one from the other and they began

to die, alone and frozen. So they had to make a choice: either accept the quills of their

companions or disappear from the Earth.

Wisely, they decided to go back to being together. They learned to live with the little

wounds caused by the close relationship with their companions in order to receive the

heat that came from the others. This way they were able to survive.

The best relationship is not the one that brings together perfect people, but when each

individual learns to live with the imperfections of others and can admire the other

person's good qualities.

The fence

There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails

and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the fence.The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks as

he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily, gradually

dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those

nails into the fence.

Finally the day came when the boy didnt lose his temper at all. He told his father

about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that

he was able to hold his temper. The days passed and the young boy was finally able

to tell his father that all the nails were gone.

The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence. He said you have done

well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same.

When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife

in a man and draw it out. It wont matter how many times you say Im sorry, the

wound is still there. Make sure you control your temper the next time you are tempted

to say something you will regret later.

Your influence on the universe

I read the first chapter of "A Brief History Of Time" when Dad was still alive, and I

got incredibly heavy boots about how relatively insignificant life is, and how,

compared to the universe and compared to time, it didn't even matter if I existed at all.

When Dad was tucking me in that night and we were talking about the book, I asked

if he could think of a solution to that problem. "What problem?" "The problem of how

relatively insignificant we are."

He said, "Well, what would happen if a plane dropped you in the middle of the Sahara


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Desert and you picked up a single grain of sand with tweezers and moved it one

millimetre?" I said, "I'd probably die of dehydration." He said, "I just mean right then,

when you moved that single grain of sand. What would that mean?"

I said, "I dunno, what?" He said. "Think about it." I thought about it. "I guess I would

have moved a grain of sand." "Which would mean?" "Which would mean I moved a

grain of sand?" "Which would mean you changed the Sahara."

"So?" "So?"So the Sahara is a vast desert. And it has existed for million of years.

And you changed it!" "That's true!" I said, sitting up. "I changed the Sahara!"

"Which means?" he said. "What? Tell me." "Well, I'm not talking about painting the

Mona Lisa or curing cancer. I'm just talking about moving that one grain of sand one

millimetre."

"Yeah?" "If you hadn'tdone it, human history would have been one way ..." "Uh-

huh?" "But, you diddo it,so ...?"

I stood on the bed, pointed my fingers at the fake stars, and screamed: "I changed the

universe!" "You did."

Source: "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close" by Jonathan Safran Foer

A turn of the screw

There was an industrialist whose production line inexplicably breaks down, costing

him millions per day. He finally tracks down an expert who takes out a screwdriver,

turns one screw, and then - as the factory cranks back to life - presents a bill for10,000.

Affronted, the factory owner demands an itemised version. The expert is happy to

oblige: "For turning a screw: 1. For knowing which screw to turn: 9,999."

Author: Oliver Burkeman in "The Guardian Weekend", 13 August 2011

Every bucket counts

Once day, having learned that the King of Fez was hunting lions in the neighbourhood,

they decided to invite him and his court, and killed a number of sheep in his honour.

The sovereign had dinner and went to bed. Wishing to show their generosity, they

placed a huge goatskin bottle before his door and agreed to fill it up with milk for the

royal breakfast.

The villagers all had to milk their goats and then each of them had to tip his bucket into

the container. Given its great size, each of them said to himself that he might just as

well dilute his milk with a good quantity of water without anyone noticing.


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To the extent that, in the morning, such a thin liquid was poured out for the king and

his court that it had no taste than the taste of meanness and greed.

Source: "Leo The African" by Amin Maalouf

Two frogs in the milk

This is the story of two frogs. One frog was fat and the other skinny. One day, whilesearching for food, they inadvertently jumped into a vat of milk. They couldn't get out,

as the sides were too slippery, so they were just swimming around.

The fat frog said to the skinny frog, "Brother frog, there's no use paddling any longer.

We're just going to drown, so we might as well give up." The skinny frog replied,

"Hold on brother, keep paddling. Somebody will get us out." And they continued

paddling for hours.

After a while, the fat frog said, "Brother frog, there's no use. I'm becoming very tired

now. I'm just going to stop paddling and drown. It's Sunday and nobody's working.We're doomed. There's no possible way out of here." But the skinny frog said, "Keep

trying. Keep paddling. Something will happen, keep paddling." Another couple of

hours passed.

The fat frog said, "I can't go on any longer. There's no sense in doing it because we're

going to drown anyway. What's the use?" And the fat frog stopped. He gave up. And

he drowned in the milk. But the skinny frog kept on paddling.

Ten minutes later, the skinny frog felt something solid beneath his feet. He had churned

the milk into butter and he hopped out of the vat.

Author: Melissa D Zartman

A story for Passover

A good Passover story should always involve cakes. Austrian baker Manfred

Klaschka is the subject of this years story. He was in the news because of his most

recent catalogue of cake designs; Klaschka is a pastry specialist.

Of course, Austrian pastries are famous the world over. Now, pastry baker Manfred

Klaschkas most recent catalogue of such tasty delights was in the news this week

because it included cakes decorated with swastikas as well as one with a baby raising

its right arm in a Nazi salute.

Herr Klaschka insists he is not a Nazi. After the news story broke, he even met with a

Holocaust awareness group, and apologized for what he had done, and he then baked

a cake to say he was sorry a cake with Jewish and Christian symbols. The point of

the story the bit I found interesting is Herr Klaschkas explanation for what he did.


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"I see it was a mistake, anyone who knows me knows what kind of person I am. I am

no Nazi", said Klaschka, who had earlier said he was just a pastry maker fulfilling his

customers wishes. Fulfilling his customers wishes? There is a market in Austria in

2011 for cakes with babies raising their arms in Nazi salutes, cakes with swastikas on

them? There are parties where people serve such cakes? Maybe birthday parties for

babies?

Of course there are such people, and there are such parties, and because of that,

there is a market there is consumer demand for swastika cakes. Which is why Herr

Klaschka was happy to bake them. And not only in Austria.

You may remember the case of the Campbell family from New Jersey.

When Kurt Waldheim was exposed as a war criminal his popularity rose. The neo-

Nazi Freedom Party headed by the late Jorg Haider, won 27% of the vote in the

2000 elections and became part of the coalition government the first time since 1945

that Nazis had sat in a European government.

But this never happened in New Jersey which is why I want to talk about the

Campbell family. The Campbell family in New Jersey made the news back in 2008

when they tried to get a birthday cake made for their son they have a son and two

daughters at the local Shop Rite in Holland Township.The store refused their request.

And the reason was that Mr. Campbell wanted the cake to read "Happy birthday

Adolf Hitler". Because, you see, his sons name was Adolf Hitler Campell. One of the

daughters is named is named JoyceLynn Aryan Nation Campbell. Well, you get the

point.

When I read about the Austrian baker Manfred Klaschka, I thought here was a

marketing opportunity for him. He would have happily baked a cake for the Campbell

family. So what does all this have to do with Passover?

This week, when we are forbidden to eat Sachertore or Linzer tort or even the

delightfully named Punschkrapfen, we might want to pause and think about something

we say every year at the Passover seder: 'In every generation it is the duty of man to

consider himself as if he had come forth from Egypt'.

Because in this generation, as in all others, there are those who order custom-made

swastika cakes. There are those who name their children after Adolf Hitler. And there

are others who fire anti-tank missiles at school busses with Jewish children in them.

Because there are those who are building nuclear weapons, having told the world that

their intention is to wipe the Jewish state off the face of the earth. Because people like

that make Pharaoh look like a nice guy. Because getting out of the house of bondage,

out of slavery in Egypt, was not the end of the story for the Jewish people, but was

the beginning.

It is a story of a never-ending struggle for freedom, for dignity, for respect, for human


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rights, that has universal resonance and meaning for all people, everywhere, always.

Source: Eric Lee

Peace of mind

Once Buddha was walking from one town to another town with a few of his

followers. This was in the initial days. While they were travelling, they happened topass a lake. They stopped there and Buddha told one of his disciples, I am thirsty. Do

get me some water from that lake there.

The disciple walked up to the lake. When he reached it, he noticed that some people

were washing clothes in the water and, right at that moment, a bullock cart started

crossing through the lake. As a result, the water became very muddy, very turbid. The

disciple thought, How can I give this muddy water to Buddha to drink! So he came

back and told Buddha, The water in there is very muddy. I dont think it is fit to drink.

After about half an hour, again Buddha asked the same disciple to go back to the lakeand get him some water to drink. The disciple obediently went back to the lake. This

time he found that the lake had absolutely clear water in it. The mud had settled down

and the water above it looked fit to be had. So he collected some water in a pot and

brought it to Buddha.

Buddha looked at the water, and then he looked up at the disciple and said, See what

you did to make the water clean. You let it be ... and the mud settled down on its own

and you got clear water... Your mind is also like that. When it is disturbed, just let it

be. Give it a little time. It will settle down on its own. You dont have to put in any

effort to calm it down. It will happen. It is effortless.

What did Buddha emphasize here? He said, It is effortless. Having 'peace of mind' is

not a strenuous job; it is an effortless process. When there is peace inside you, that

peace permeates to the outside. It spreads around you and in the environment, such

that people around start feeling that peace and grace.

Jumping the queue

Today, a true tale of heroism that takes place not in a war zone, nor a hospital, but inVictoria station in London in 2007, during a tube strike. Our hero a transport

journalist and self-described "big, stocky bloke with a shaven head" named Gareth

Edwards, who first wrote about this experience on the community blog metafilter.com

is standing with other commuters in a long, snaking line for a bus, when a smartly

dressed businessman blatantly cuts in line behind him. (Behindhim: this detail matters.)

The interloper proves immune to polite remonstration, whereupon Edwards is seized

by a magnificent idea. He turns to the elderly woman standing behind the queue-

jumper, and asks her if she'd like to go ahead of him. She accepts, so he asks the


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person behind her, and the next person, and the next until 60 or 70 people have

moved ahead, Edwards and the seething queue-jumper shuffling further backwards all

the time. The bus finally pulls up, and Edwards hears a shout from the front of the line.

It's the elderly woman, addressing him: "Young man! Do you want to go in front of

me?"

Author: Oliver Burkeman in "The Guardian Weekend", 28 August 2010

Knowledge and wisdom

There is a difference between knowledge and wisdom.

Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit not a vegetable.

Wisdom is knowing not to include it in a fruit salad.

The starfish

Once a man was walking along a beach. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful

day. Off in the distance he could see a person going back and forth between the surf's

edge and and the beach. Back and forth this person went. As the man approached, he

could see that there were hundreds of starfish stranded on the sand as the result of the

natural action of the tide.

The man was stuck by the the apparent futility of the task. There were far too many

starfish. Many of them were sure to perish. As he approached, the person continued

the task of picking up starfish one by one and throwing them into the surf.

As he came up to the person, he said: "You must be crazy. There are thousands of

miles of beach covered with starfish. You can't possibly make a difference." The

person looked at the man. He then stooped down and pick up one more starfish and

threw it back into the ocean. He turned back to the man and said: "It sure made a

difference to that one!"

The American dream

An American businessman was standing at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village

when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several

large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his

fish.

"How long did it take you to catch them?" the American asked.

"Only a little while" the Mexican replied.


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"Why don't you stay out longer and catch more fish?" the American then asked.

"I have enough to support my family's immediate needs" the Mexican said.

"But" the American then asked, "What do you do with the rest of your time?"

The Mexican fisherman said: "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take a

siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and

play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life, senor."

The American scoffed: "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend

more time fishing and with the proceeds you could buy a bigger boat and, with the

proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats. Eventually you would

have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you would

sell directly to the consumers, eventually opening your own can factory. You would

control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small

coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually NYC where

you will run your expanding enterprise."

The Mexican fisherman asked: "But senor, how long will this all take?"

To which the American replied: "15-20 years."

"But what then, senor?"

The American laughed and said: "That's the best part. When the time is right, you

would announce an IPO - an Initial Public Offering - and sell your company stock to

the public and become very rich. You would make millions."

"Millions, senor? Then what?"

The American said slowly: "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing

village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take a siesta with

your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your

guitar with your amigos..."

Alexander and Diogenes

Now when Alexander [the Great] appeared before the Greek leaders in Corinth they

greeted him warmly and paid him lavish compliments- all of them, that is but one. A

funny fellow, a philosopher named Diogenes. He had views not unlike those of the

Buddha. According to him, possessions and all the things we think we need only serve

to distract us and get in the way of our simple enjoyment of life. So he had given away

everything he owned and now sat, almost naked, in a barrel in the market square in

Corinth where he lived, free and independent like a stray dog.

Curious to meet this strange fellow, Alexander went to call on him. Dressed in shining


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armour, the plume on his helmet waving in the breeze, he walked up to the barrel and

said to Diogenes: 'I like you. Let me know your wish and I shall grant it.' Diogenes,

who had until then been comfortably sunning himself, replied: 'Indeed, Sire, I have a

wish.' 'Well, what is it?' 'Your shadow has fallen over me: stand a little less between

me and the sun.' Alexander is said to have been so struck by this that he said: 'If I

weren't Alexander, I should like to be Diogenes.'

Source: "A Little History Of The World" by E.H. Gombrich

Testing for gossip

In ancient Greece, Socrates was reputed to hold knowledge in high esteem. One day

an acquaintance met the great philosopher and said, "Do you know what I just heard

about your friend?"

"Hold on a minute", Socrates replied. "Before telling me anything I'd like you to pass a

little test. It's called the Triple Filter Test."

"Triple filter?"

"That's right", Socrates continued. "Before you talk to me about my friend, it might be

a good idea to take a moment and filter what you're going to say. That's why I call it

the triple filter test. The first filter is Truth. Have you made absolutely sure that what

you are about to tell me is true?"

"No,",the man said, "Actually I just heard about it and ..."

"All right", said Socrates. "So you don't really know if it's true or not. Now let's try thesecond filter, the filter ofGoodness. Is what you are about to tell me about my friend

something good?"

"No, on the contrary."

"So", Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about him, but you're

not certain it's true. You may still pass the test though, because there's one filter left:

the filter ofUsefulness. Is what you want to tell me about my friend going to be

useful to me?"

"No, not really."

"Well", concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither true nor good nor

even useful, why tell it to me at all?"

Rafting

By good fortune, I was able to raft down the Motu River in New Zealand twice


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during the last year. The magnificent four-day journey traverses one of the last

wilderness areas in the North Island.

The first expedition was led by "Buzz", an American guide with a great deal of rafting

experience and many stories to tell of mighty rivers such as the Colorado. With a

leader like Buzz, there was no reason to fear any of the great rapids on the Motu.

The first half day, in the gentle upper reaches, was spent developing teamwork and

co-ordination. Strokes had to be mastered, and the discipline of following commands

without question was essential. In the boiling fury of a rapid, there would be no room

for any mistake. When Buzz bellowed above the roar of the water, an instant reaction

was essential.

We mastered the Motu. In every rapid we fought against the river and we overcame

it. The screamed commands of Buzz were matched only by the fury of our paddles, as

we took the raft exactly where Buzz wanted it to go.

At the end of the journey, there was a great feeling of triumph. We had won. We

proved that we were superior. We knew that we could do it. We felt powerful and

good. The mystery and majesty of the Motu had been overcome.

The second time I went down the Motu. the experience I had gained should have

been invaluable, but the guide on this journey was a very softly spoken Kiwi. It

seemed that it would not even be possible to hear his voice above the noise of the

rapids.

As we approached the first rapid, he never even raised his voice. He did not attempt

to take command of us or the river. Gently and quietly he felt the mood of the river

and watched every little whirlpool. There was no drama and no shouting. There was

no contest to be won. He loved the river.

We sped through each rapid with grace and beauty and, after a day, the river had

become our friend, not our enemy. The quiet Kiwi was not our leader, but only the

person whose sensitivity was more developed than our own. Laughter replaced the

tension of achievement.

Soon the quiet Kiwi was able to lean back and let all of us take turns as leader. A

quiet nod was enough to draw attention to the things our lack of experience prevented

us from seeing. If we made a mistake, then we laughed and it was the next person's

turn.

We began to penetrate the mystery of the Motu. Now, like the quiet Kiwi, we listened

to the river and we looked carefully for all those things we had not even noticed the

first time.

At the end of the journey, we had overcome nothing except ourselves. We did not

want to leave behind our friend, the river. There was no contest, and so nothing had


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been won. Rather we had become one with the river.

It remains difficult to believe that the external circumstances of the two journeys were

similar. The difference was in an attitude and a frame of mind. At the end of the

journey, it seemed that there could be no other way. Given the opportunity to choose

a leader, everyone would have chosen someone like Buzz. At the end of the second

journey, we had glimpsed a very different vision and we felt humble - and intensely

happy.

The mouse trap

A mouse looked through the crack in the wall to see the farmer and his wife open a

package. "What food might this contain?" the mouse wondered. He was devastated to

discover it was a mousetrap.

Retreating to the farmyard, the mouse proclaimed the warning: "There is a mousetrap

in the house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"

The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said "Mr.Mouse, I can tell

this is a grave concern to you, but it is of no consequence to me. I cannot be bothered

by it."

The mouse turned to the pig and told him "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is

a mousetrap in the house!" The pig sympathized, but said "I am so very sorry,

Mr.Mouse, but there is nothing I can do about it but pray. Be assured you are in my

prayers."

The mouse turned to the cow and said "There is a mousetrap in the house! There is amousetrap in the house!" The cow said "Wow, Mr. Mouse. I'm sorry for you, but it's

no skin off my nose."

So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer's

mousetrap alone.

That very night a sound was heard throughout the house - like the sound of a

mousetrap catching its prey. The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught. In the

darkness, she did not see it was a venomous snake whose tail the trap had caught.

The snake bit the farmer's wife. The farmer rushed her to the hospital and she returned

home with a fever.

Everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his

hatchet to the farmyard for the soup's main ingredient. But his wife's sickness

continued, so friends and neighbors came to sit with her around the clock. To feed

them, the farmer butchered the pig. The farmer's wife did not get well; she died. So

many! people came for her funeral, the farmer had the cow slaughtered to provide

enough meat for all of them.


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The mouse looked upon it all from his crack in the wall with great sadness. So, the

next time you hear someone is facing a problem and think it doesn't concern you,

remember: when one of us is threatened, we are all at risk. We are all involved in this

journey called life. We must keep an eye out for one another and make an extra effort

to encourage one another. Each of us is a vital thread in another person's tapestry.

A foot has no nose

Of the many interactions I had with my mother those many years ago, one stands out

with clarity. I remember the occasion when mother sent me to the main road, about

twenty yards away from the homestead, to invite a passing group of seasonal work-

seekers home for a meal. She instructed me to take a container along and collect dry

cow dung for making a fire. I was then to prepare the meal for the group of work-

seekers.

The thought of making an open fire outside at midday, cooking in a large three-legged

pot in that intense heat, was sufficient to upset even an angel. I did not manage to

conceal my feelings from my mother and, after serving the group, she called me to the

veranda where she usually sat to attend to her sewing and knitting.

Looking straight into my eyes, she daid "Tsholofelo, why did you sulk when I

requested you to prepare a meal for those poor destitute people?" Despite my attempt

to deny her allegation, and using the heat of the fire and the sun as an excuse for my

alleged behaviour, mother, giving me a firm look, said ""Lonao ga lo na nko" - "A foot

has no nose". It means: you cannot detect what trouble may lie ahead of you.

Had I denied this group of people a meal, it may have happened that, in my travelssome time in the future, I found myself at the mercy of those very individuals. As if that

was not enough to shame me, mother continued: "Motho ke motho ka motho yo

mongwe". The literal meaning: "A person is a person because of another person".

Source: "African Wisdom" by Ellen K. Kuzwayo

From Russia with love

When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, the communications trade union for which I

then worked received several delegations from the emergent nations and we ran

courses for them on how market economies operated and how free collective

bargaining was conducted. As is my practice when lecturing to foreign audiences, I

had my visual aids translated into the vernacular, so I used overhead slides in Russian,

although of course I spoke in English and had an interpreter.

I cannot read the cyrillic alphabet and know very little Russian, so I just worked

through my slides in order. However, there came a point when I could tell from the

statistical data on the latest slide that, for the previous ten minutes, I had been


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speaking to the wrong slide. British students would have pointed this out in seconds,

but none of the Russians had said a word.

I was perplexed and asked why nobody had told me that I had been speaking to the

wrong slide. Eventually one brave soul volunteered an answer and the interpreter

translated: "In our country, no one challenges the teacher".

Author: Roger Darlington

Virtually no competition

While professional soccer is still struggling to find a firm foothold in the United States,

in the 1970s the North American Soccer League marked the brave first attempt to

introduce the game to American sports fans. While most teams had only limited

success at best, one did manage to break through to genuine mainstream popularity -

the New York Cosmos.

It was the brainchild of Steve Ross, a passionate soccer fan who was also a majorexecutive at Warner Communications.

Max Ross told his son Steve: "In life there are those who work all day, those who

dream all day, and those who spend an hour dreaming before setting to work to fulfil

those dreams. Go into the third category because there's virtually no competition".

Source: "Once In A Lifetime - The Extraordinary Story Of The New York Cosmos"

by Gavin Newsham

The little wave

The story is abut a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time.

He's enjoying the wind and the fresh air - until he notices the other waves in front of

him, crashing against the shore. "My God, this terrible", the wave says. "Look what's

going to happen to me!"

Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to

him: "Why do you look so sad?" The first wave says: "You don't understand! We're

all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn't it terrible?"

The second wave says: "No, you don't understand. You're not a wave, you're part of

the ocean."

Source: "Tuesdays With Morrie" by Mitch Albom

Believe what you feel


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On this day, Morrie says that he has an exercise for us to try. We are to stand, facing

away from our classmates, and fall backward, relying on another student to catch us.

Most of us are uncomfortable with this, and we cannot let go for more than a few

inches before stopping ourselves. We laugh in embarrassment.

Finally, one student, a thin, quiet, dark-haired girl whom I notice almost always wears

bulky, white fisherman sweaters, crosses her arms over her chest, closes her eyes,

leans back, and does not flinch, like one of those Lipton tea commercials where the

model splashes into the pool..

For a moment, I am sure she is going to thump on the floor. At the last instant, her

assigned partner grabs her head and shoulders and yanks her up harshly.

"Whoa!!" several students yell. Some clap. Morrie finally smiles. "You see", he says to

the girl, 'you closed your eyes, That was the difference. Sometimes you cannot believe

what you see, you have to believe what you feel. And if you are ever going to have

other people trust you, you must feel that you can trust them too - even when you're in

the dark. Even when you're falling".

Source: "Tuesdays With Morrie" by Mitch Albom

Everyone can play

At a fundraising dinner for an American school that serves learning disabled

children,the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be

forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he

offered a question:

"When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with

perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot

understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my

son?" The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. "I believe,that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally

handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature

presents itself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child."Then he told the

following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were

playing baseball. Shay asked,"Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew

that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father

also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed

sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his

handicaps.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked if Shay could play,


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not expecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by

six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll

try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning."

Shay struggled over to the team's bench put on a team shirt with a broad smile and his

Father had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's

joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a

few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a

glove and played in the right field.

Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game

and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In

the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the

bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be

next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?

Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossiblebecause Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with

the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing the other team

putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the

ball in softly so Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and

Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss

the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a

slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could

have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that

would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the head of the first baseman, out of reach

of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run

to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever ran that far but made it to first

base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!" Catching his breath, Shayawkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to second base.

By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the

smallest guy on their team, who had a chance to be the hero for his team for the first

time. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he

understood the pitcher's intentions and he too intentionally threw the ball high and far

over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners

ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay" Shay reached third base,


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the opposing shortstop ran to help him and turned him in the direction of third base,

and shouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third" As Shay rounded third, the boys from

both teams and those watching were on their feet were screaming, "Shay, run home!

Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the

"grand slam" and won the game for his team.

That day, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, the boys from

both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world. Shay didn't

make it to another summer and died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero

and making his father so happy and coming home and seeing his mother tearfully

embrace her little hero of the day!

Source: Rabbi Paysach Krohn, a popular lecturer and best-selling author of the

ArtScroll Maggid series of short stories

I must at least try

In June 1985, two British mountaineers Joe Simpson and Simon Yates made the first-

ever climb of the West Face of the 21,000 foot snow-covered Siula Grande mountain

in Peru. It was an exceptionally tough assault - but nothing compared to what was to

come. Early in the descent, Simpson fell and smashed his right knee. Yates could have

abandoned him but managed to find a way of lowering him down the mountain in a

series of difficult drops blinded by snow and cold. Then Simpson fell into a crevasse

and Yates eventually had no choice but to cut the rope, utterly convinced that his

friend was now dead.

In his subsequent book on the climb entitled "Touching The Void", Joe Simpsonwrote:

"As I gazed at the distant moraines, I knew that I must at least try. I would

probably die out there amid those boulders. The thought didn't alarm me. It

seemed reasonable, matter-of-fact. That was how it was. I could aim for

something. If I died, well, that wasn't so surprising, but I wouldn't have just

waited for it to happen. The horror of dying no longer affected me as it had in

the crevasse. I now had the chance to confront it and struggle against it. It

wasn't a bleak dark terror any more, just fact, like my broken leg and

frostbitten fingers, and I couldn't be afraid of things like that. My leg would hurtwhen I fell and when I couldn't get up I would die."

The survival of Yates himself was extraordinary. That Simpson somehow found a way

of climbing out of the crevasse after 12 hours and then literally crawled and dragged

himself six miles back to camp, going three days and nights without food or drink,

losing three stone, and contracting ketoacidosis in the process, would be the stuff of

heroic fiction if it was not so true. Indeed, six operations and two years later, he was

even back climbing. All because, against all the odds, he tried ...


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Source: "Touching The Void" by Joe Simpson

King Arthur and the witch

Young King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighboring

kingdom. The monarch could have killed him but was moved by Arthur's youth and

ideals. So, the monarch offered him his freedom, as long as he could answer a very

difficult question. Arthur would have a year to figure out the answer and, if after a

year, he still had no answer, he would be put to death.

The question?....What do women really want? Such a question would perplex even

the most knowledgeable man, and to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query.

But, since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an

answer by year's end.

He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everyone: the princess, the priests, the

wise men and even the court jester. He spoke with everyone, but no one could give

him a satisfactory answer. Many people advised him to consult the old witch, for only

she would have the answer. But the price would be high; as the witch was famous

throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.

The last day of the year arrived and Arthur had no choice but to talk to the witch She

agreed to answer the question, but he would have to agree to her price first. The old

witch wanted to marry Sir Lancelot, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table

and Arthur's closest friend! Young Arthur was horrified. She was hunchbacked and

hideous, had only one tooth, smelled like sewage, made obscene noises, etc. He had

never encountered such a repugnant creature in all his life.

He refused to force his friend to marry her and endure such a terrible burden; but

Lancelot, learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur. He said nothing was too big of

a sacrifice compared to Arthur's life and the preservation of the Round Table.

Hence, a wedding was proclaimed and the witch answered Arthur's question thus:

What a woman really wants, she answered....is to be in charge of her own life!

Everyone in the kingdom instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and

that Arthur's life would be spared. And so it was, the neighboring monarch granted

Arthur his freedom and Lancelot and the witch had a wonderful wedding.

The honeymoon hour approached and Lancelot, steeling himself for a horrific

experience, entered the bedroom. But, what a sight awaited him. The most beautiful

woman he had ever seen lay before him on the bed. The astounded Lancelot asked

what had happened

The beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her when she appeared as a

witch, she would henceforth, be her horrible deformed self only half the time and the

beautiful maiden the other half. Which would he prefer? Beautiful during the day...or


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night?

Lancelot pondered the predicament. During the day, a beautiful woman to show off to

his friends, but at night, in the privacy of his castle, an old witch? Or, would he prefer

having a hideous witch during the day, but by night, a beautiful woman for him to

enjoy wondrous intimate moments?

Noble Lancelot said that he would allow HER to make the choice herself. Upon

hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time because he had

respected her enough to let her be in charge of her own life.

Helping hands

A mother, wishing to encourage her son's progress at the piano, bought tickets to a

performance by the great Polish pianist Ignace Paderewski. When the evening arrived,

they found their seats near the front of the concert hall and eyed the majestic Steinway

waiting on the stage. Soon the mother found a friend to talk to, and the boy slipped

away.

At eight o'clock, the lights in the auditorium began to dim, the spotlights came on, and

only then did they notice the boy - up on the piano bench, innocently picking out

"Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." His mother gasped in shock and embarassment but,

before she could retrieve her son, the master himself appeared on the stage and

quickly moved to the keyboard.

He whispered gently to the boy, "Don't quit. Keep playing." Leaning over,

Paderewski reached down with his left hand and began filling in the bass part. Soon

his right arm reached around the other side and improvised a delightful obligato.

Together, the old master and the young novice held the crowd mesmerized with their

blended and beautiful music.

In all our lives, we receive helping hands - some we notice, some we don't. Equally

we ourselves have countless opportunites to provide helping hands - sometimes we

would like our assistance to be noticed, sometimes we don't. Little of what we all

achieve is without learning from others and without support from others and what we

receive we should hand out.

The teacher and the taught

A young teacher from an industrial city in the north of England had accepted a

temporary job teaching a class of four-year-olds out in one of the most isolated, rural

parts of north Wales. One of her first lessons involved teaching the letter S so she held

up a big colour photograph of a sheep and said: "Now, who can tell me what this is?"

No answer. Twenty blank and wordless faces looked back at her. "Come on, who

can tell me what this is?" she exclaimed, tapping the photograph determinedly, unable


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to believe that the children were quite so ignorant. The 20 faces became apprehensive

and even fearful as she continued to question them with mounting frustration.

Eventually, one brave soul put up a tiny, reluctant hand. "Yes!" she cried, waving the

snap aloft. "Tell me what you think this is!" "Please, Miss," said the boy warily. "Is it a

three-year-old Border Leicester?"

Source: "Guardian", 2 November 2005

Going the extra mile

I was 20 and had just finished my first degree when I aksed my father's advice on

how to approach the world of work. He had a long and distinguished career in the

Indian Army and rose to become commander-in-chief of a million men. He was a

soldier's soldier and his men adored him. His manner was strict and firm, but he was

very friendly. He appreciated and trusted people and gave then freedom.

"Come and see me in my office if you want to talk to me about work" he said. So Imade an appointment with his ADC and went to see him. He had a huge office and I

felt very small.

"You are starting out and you will be given a lot of tasks to fulfil" he said. "The first

thing is always to do something to the best of your ability. Then the second time you

do it, give it that little bit extra". What he was saying was: "Take the initiative; be

innovative; be creative. Always go the extra mile."

Source: Karan Bilimoria, founder and chief executive of Cobra Beer, speaking to

Sheridan Winn for "Business Life".

Who you are speaks louder to me than anything you can say

At the beginning of my 8:00 a.m. class one Monday at University of Nevada, Las

Vegas (UNLV), I cheerfully asked my students how their weekend had been. One

young man said that his weekend had not been very good. He'd had his wisdom teeth

extracted. The young man then proceeded to ask me why I always seemed to be so

cheerful. His question reminded me of something I'd read somewhere before: "Every

morning when you get up, you have a choice about how you want to approach lifethat day", I said to the young man. "I choose to be cheerful". "Let me give you an

example", I continued.

The other 60 students in the class ceased their chatter and began to listen to our

conversation. As soon as I got there, I called AAA and asked them to send a tow

truck. The secretary in the Provost's office asked me what had happened. "This is my

lucky day", I replied, smiling. "Your car breaks down and today is your lucky day??"

She was puzzled. "What do you mean?"


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"I live 17 miles from here", I replied. "My car could have broken down anywhere

along the freeway. It didn't. Instead, it broke down in the perfect place: off the

freeway, within walking distance of here. I'm still able to teach my class, and I've been

able to arrange for the tow truck to meet me after class. If my car was meant to break

down today, it couldn't have been arranged in a more convenient fashion." The

secretary's eyes opened wide, and then she smiled. I smiled back and headed for

class.' So ended my story to the students in my economics class at UNLV.

I scanned the 60 faces in the lecture hall. Despite the early hour, no one seemed to be

asleep. Somehow, my story had touched them. Or maybe it wasn't the story at all. In

fact, it had all started with a student's observation that I was cheerful. A wise man

once said: "Who you are speaks louder to me than anything you can say". I suppose it

must be so.

Author: Lee Ryan Miller - story from his book "Teaching Amidst the Neon Palm

Trees" - for whose website click here.

Different perspectives

The Minister travelled for days by train and car and boat to one of the furthest islands

in the nation. As he surveyed the bleak but inspiring landscape, he turned to a local

villager and said: "You're very remote here, aren't you?" She responded: "Remote

from what?"

The eagle

Once a farmer found an abandoned eagle's nest and in it was an egg still warm. He

took the egg back to his farm and laid it in the nest of one of his hens. The egg

hatched and the baby eagle grew up along with the other chickens. It pecked about

the farmyard, scrabbling for grain. It spent its life within the yard and rarely looked up.

When it was very old, one day it lifted up its head and saw above it a wonderful sight

- an eagle soaring high above in the sky. Looking at it, the old creature sighed and

said to itself, "If only I'd been born an eagle".

Source: an adaptation from an Anthony de Mello story

The three races

In old times, fable retells the story of the young athletic boy hungry for success, for

whom winning was everything and success was measured by such a result.

One day, the boy was preparing himself for a running competition in his small native

village, himself and two other young boys to compete. A large crowd had

congregated to witness the sporting spectacle and a wise old man, upon hearing of the

little boy, had travelled far to bear witness also.
http://www.leeryanmiller.com/


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The race commenced, looking like a level heat at the finishing line, but sure enough the

boy dug deep and called on his determination, strength and power .. he took the

winning line and was first. The crowd was ecstatic and cheered and waved at the boy.

The wise man remained still and calm, expressing no sentiment. The little boy,

however. felt proud and important.

A second race was called, and two new young, fit, challengers came forward, to run

with the little boy. The race was started and sure enough the little boy came through

and finished first once again. The crowd was ecstatic again and cheered and waved at

the boy. The wise man remained still and calm, again expressing no sentiment. The

little boy, however, felt proud and important.

"Another race, another race!" pleaded the little boy. The wise old man stepped

forward and presented the little boy with two new challengers, an elderly frail lady and

a blind man. "What is this?", quizzed the little boy. "This is no race" he exclaimed.

"Race!", said the wise man. The race was started and the boy was the only finisher,

the other two challengers left standing at the starting line. The little boy was ecstatic,

he raised his arms in delight. The crowd, however, was silent showing no sentimenttoward the little boy.

"What has happened? Why not do the people join in my success?" he asked the wise

old man. "Race again", replied the wise man, "...this time, finish together, all three of

you, finish together" continued the wise man. The little boy thought a little, stood in the

middle of the blind man and the frail old lady, and then took the two challengers by the

hand. The race began and the little boy walked slowly, ever so slowly, to the finishing

line and crossed it. The crowd were ecstatic and cheered and waved at the boy. The

wise man smiled, gently nodding his head. The little boy felt proud and important.

"Old man, I understand not! Who are the crowd cheering for? Which one of us

three?", asked the little boy. The wise old man looked into the little boy's eyes, placing

his hands on the boy's shoulders, and replied softly .. "Little boy, for this race you

have won much more than in any race you have ever ran before, and for this race the

crowd cheer not for any winner!"

Author: Darren Edwards

The obstacle in our path

In ancient times, a King had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and

watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest

merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed

the King for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the stone

out of the way.

Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. Upon approaching the

boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of


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the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. After the peasant

picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the

boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the King

indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the

roadway.

The peasant learned what many of us never understand! Every obstacle presents an

opportunity to improve our condition.

Bad by name; bad by nature?

During Nelson Mandela's 19 years imprisoned on Robben Island, one particular

commanding officer was the most brutal of them all:

"A few days before Badenhorst's departure, I was called to the main office. General

Steyn was visiting the island and wanted to know if we had any complaints.

Badenhorst was there as I went through a list of demands. When I had finished,

Badenhorst spoke to me directly.

He told me he would be leaving the island and added: 'I just want to wish you people

good luck'. I do not know if I looked dumbfounded, but I was amazed. He spoke

these words like a human being and showed a side of himself we had never seen

before. I thanked him for his good wishes and wished him luck in his endeavours.

I thought about this moment for a long time afterwards. Badenhorst had perhaps been

the most callous and barbaric commanding officer we had had on Robben Island. But

that day in the office, he had revealed that that there was another side to his nature, a

side that had been obscured but still existed.

It was a useful reminder that all men, even the most seemingly cold-blooded, have a

core of decency and that, if their hearts are touched, they are capable of changing.

Ultimately, Badenhorst was not evil; his inhumanity had been foisted upon him by an

inhuman system. He behaved like a brute because he was rewarded for brutish

behaviour."

Source: "Long Walk To Fredom" by Nelson Mandela

Everyone is important

During Mark's first month of college, the professor gave his students a pop quiz. He

was a conscientious student and had breezed through the questions, until he read the

last one: "What is the first name of the woman who cleans the school?" Surely this was

some kind of joke. He had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-

haired and in her 50s, but how would he know her name? He handed in his paper,

leaving the last question blank.


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Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward the

quiz grade. "Absolutely," said the professor. "In your careers, you will meet many

people. All are significant. They each deserve your attention and care, even if all you

do is smile and say 'hello'". Mark never forgot that lesson. He also learned her name

was Dorothy.

The carrot, the egg, and the coffee bean

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were

so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give

up. She was tired of fighting and struggling.

It seemed that, as one problem was solved, a new one arose. Her mother took her to

the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the

pots came to a boil. In the first, she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and

in the last she placed ground coffee beans.

She let them sit and boil, without saying a word. In about twenty minutes, she turned

off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the

eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a

bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, "Tell me, what do you see?"

"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," the young woman replied. The mother brought her closer

and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. She then

asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the

hard-boiled egg. Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she

tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, "What does it mean, mother?"

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity -

boiling water - but each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard and

unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and

became weak.

The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior. But, after

sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened! The ground coffee beans

were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the

water.

"Which are you?" the mother asked her daughter. "When adversity knocks on your

door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?" Think of

this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong but, with pain and adversity, do I

wilt and become soft and lose my strength? Am I the egg that starts with a malleable

heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit but, after a death, a breakup,

or a financial hardship, does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and

tough with a stiff spirit and a hardened heart? Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean

actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the


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water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavour.

If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the

situation around you. When the hours are the darkest and trials are their greatest, do

you elevate to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg,

or a coffee bean?

The two wolves

A Native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt. He

said, "I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful,

angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one." The grandson

asked him, "Which wolf will win the fight in your heart?" The grandfather answered:

"The one I feed."

The great fire and the little water

Among the Aztec people of Mexico, it is said that a long time ago there was a great

fire in the forests that covered our Earth. People and animals started to run, trying to

escape from the fire. Our brother owl, Tecolotl, was running away also when he

noticed a small bird hurrying back and forth between the nearest river and the fire. He

headed towards this small bird.

He noticed that it was our brother the Quetzal bird, Quetzaltototl, running to the river,

picking up small drops of water in his beak, then returning to the fire to throw that tiny

bit of water on the flame. Owl approached Quetsal bird and yelled at him: "What are

you doing brother? Are you stupid? You are not going to achieve anything by doing

this. What are you trying to do? You must run for your life!"

Quetzal bird stopped for a moment and looked at owl, and then answered: "I am

doing the best I can with what I have."

It is remembered by our Grandparents that a long time ago the forests that covered

our Earth were saved from a great fire by a small Quetzal bird, an owl, and many

other animals and people who got together to put out the fire.

Source: "Turning To One Another" by Margaret Wheatley

A sense of a goose

Next Autumn, when you see geese heading south for the winter, flying in a "V"

formation, you might consider what science has discovered as to why they fly that

way. As each bird flaps its wings, it creates an uplift for the bird immediately

following. By flying in a "V" formation, the whole flock adds at least 71 percent

greater flying range than if each bird flew on its own.


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People who share a common direction and sense of community can get where

they are going more quickly and easily, because they are travelling on the thrust

of one another.

When a goose falls out of formation, it suddenly feels the drag and resistance of trying

to go it alone and quickly gets back into formation to take advantage of the lifting

power of the bird in front.

If we have the sense of a goose, we will stay in formation with those people who

are heading the same way we are.

When the head goose gets tired, it rotates back in the wing and another goose flies

point.

It is sensible to take turns doing demanding jobs, whether with people or with

geese flying south.

Geese honk from behind to encourage those up front to keep up their speed.

What message do we give when we honk from behind?

Finally - and this is important - when a goose gets sick or is wounded by gunshot, and

falls out of the formation, two other geese fall out with that goose and follow it down

to lend help and protection. They stay with the fallen goose until it is able to fly or until

it dies; and only then do they launch out on their own, or with another formation to

catch up with their own group.

If we have the sense of a goose, we will stand by each other like that.

The seeker of truth

After years of searching, the seeker was told to go to a cave, in which he would find a

well. 'Ask the well what is truth', he was advised, 'and the well will reveal it to you'.

Having found the well, the seeker asked that most fundamental question. And from the

depths came the answer, 'Go to the village crossroad: there you shall find what you

are seeking'.

Full of hope and anticipation the man ran to the crossroad to find only three rather

uninteresting shops. One shop was selling pieces of metal, another sold wood, and

thin wires were for sale in the third. Nothing and no one there seemed to have much to

do with the revelation of truth.

Disappointed, the seeker returned to the well to demand an explanation, but he was

told only, 'You will understand in the future.' When the man protested, all he got in

return were the echoes of his own shouts. Indignant for having been made a fool of -

or so he thought at the time - the seeker continued his wanderings in search of truth.

As years went by, the memory of his experience at the well gradually faded until one

night, while he was walking in the moonlight, the sound of sitar music caught his

attention. It was wonderful music and it was played with great mastery and inspiration.


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Profoundly moved, the truth seeker felt drawn towards the player. He looked at the

fingers dancing over the strings. He became aware of the sitar itself. And then

suddenly he exploded in a cry of joyous recognition: the sitar was made out of wires

and pieces of metal and wood just like those he had once seen in the three stores and

had thought it to be without any particular significance.

At last he understood the message of the well: we have already been given everything

we need: our task is to assemble and use it in the appropriate way. Nothing is

meaningful so long as we perceive only separate fragments. But as soon as the

fragments come together into a synthesis, a new entity emerges, whose nature we

could not have foreseen by considering the fragments alone.

A meeting of minds

Martin was returning to work in his London office after spending two weeks with his

brother over in New York. He was coming back with a heavy heart. It was not just

that it was the end of a wonderful holiday; it was not just that he invariably suffered

badly from jet lag; it was that Monday mornings always began with a team meeting

and, over the months, he had grown to hate them.

Martin was aware that colleagues approached these meetings with hidden agendas;

they indulged in game-playing; and he knew that people were not being honest and

open. The meetings themselves were bad enough - but then there was all the moaning

afterwards. "The usual people saying the usual things"."I could have improved

on that idea, but I wasn't going to say"."I was thinking of making a suggestion

- but I couldn't be bothered".

As this morning's meeting began, Martin braced himself for the usual moroseness and

monotony. But, as the meeting progressed, he became aware of a strange background

noise. At first, he thought that he was still hearing the engine noise from the aircraft that

had brought him back to London - he had had to sit over the wing and the droning

was terrible. But, as he concentrated on the noise, it became a little clearer.

He realised - to his amazement - that he could hear what his colleagues were thinking

as well as what they were saying. As he concentrated still harder, he found that he

could actually hear what they were thinking at the same time as they were speaking.

What surprised him, even more than the acquisition of this strange power, was that hediscovered that what people were saying was not really what they were thinking. They

were not making clear their reservations. They were not supporting views which they

thought might be unpopular. They were not contributing their new insights. They were

not volunteering their new ideas.

Martin found it impossible not to respond to his new knowledge. So he started to

make gentle interventions, based more on what he could hear his colleagues thinking

than on what he could hear them saying. "So, John are you really saying .."

"Susan, Do you really think that ""Tom, Have you got an idea on how we could


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take this forward?"He was aware that his colleagues were unsettled by how

insightful were these interventions. They looked at him mystified. In truth, he felt rather

proud of his newly-acquired talent.

Emboldened now, Martin forgot his usual misery at participating in such meetings and

began making comments of his own. However, he became aware that some of his

colleagues were looking at him quizzically. One or two even had a gentle smile playing

on their lips. Only gradually did it dawn on him - they could hearhis thoughts and he

was not really saying what he was thinking.

As the meeting progressed, Martin became aware of changes to the tone and style of

the event. It was clear to him now that, one by one, each member of the meeting was

learning how to hear the thoughts of all the others and this was subtly changing how

they inter-acted with one another. The game-playing started to fall away; people

started to speak more directly; views became better understood; the atmosphere

became more open and trusting.

The meeting ended. As people left the room, Martin found that he could still hear whatthey were thinking. "That was the best meeting we've ever had.""All meetings

should be like that.""In future, I'm going to say what I think".

Author: Roger Darlington

Chopsticks

A woman who had worked all her life to bring about good was granted one wish:

"Before I die let me visit both hell and heaven." Her wish was

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