Every Bucket Counts

8/6/2019 Every Bucket Counts

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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. Thesovereign had dinner and went to bed. Wishing to show their generosity, they placed ahuge 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 welldilute his milk with a good quantity of water without anyone noticing.

To the extent that, in the morning, such a thin liquid was poured out for the king and hiscourt 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, asthe 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, "Holdon 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 tirednow. 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'regoing to drown anyway. What's the use?" And the fat frog stopped. He gave up. And hedrowned in the milk. But the skinny frog kept on paddling.

Ten minutes later, the skinny frog felt something solid beneath his feet. He had churnedthe milk into butter and he hopped out of the vat.

A story for Passover

A good Passover story should always involve cakes. Austrian baker Manfred Klaschka isthe subject of this years story. He was in the news because of his most recent catalogueof cake designs; Klaschka is a pastry specialist.

Of course, Austrian pastries are famous the world over. Now, pastry baker ManfredKlaschkas 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 raisingits right arm in a Nazi salute.


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Herr Klaschka insists he is not a Nazi. After the news story broke, he even met with aHolocaust awareness group, and apologized for what he had done, and he then baked acake to say he was sorry a cake with Jewish and Christian symbols. The point of thestory the bit I found interesting is Herr Klaschkas explanation for what he did.

"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 hiscustomers wishes. Fulfilling his customers wishes? There is a market in Austria in 2011for 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 amarket there is consumer demand for swastika cakes. Which is why Herr Klaschkawas happy to bake them. And not only in Austria.

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

Now Austrians are, of course, unrepentant Nazis. When Kurt Waldheim was exposed as awar criminal his popularity rose. The neo-Nazi Freedom Party headed by the late JorgHaider, 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. It issaid of Austria that they have managed to convince the world that Beethoven was anAustrian and that Hitler was a German. So this is pretty much what we expect fromAustria.

But no one ever says that about New Jersey which is why I want to talk about theCampbell family. The Campbell family in New Jersey made the news back in 2008 whenthey 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 thedaughters 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 amarketing opportunity for him. He would have happily baked a cake for the Campbellfamily. 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 delightfullynamed Punschkrapfen, we might want to pause and think about something we say everyyear 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-madeswastika cakes. There are those who name their children after Adolf Hitler. And there areothers who fire anti-tank missiles at school busses with Jewish children in them. Becausethere 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 thatmake 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

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


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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 to pass a lake.They stopped there and Buddha told one of his disciples, I am thirsty. Do get me somewater from that lake there.

The disciple walked up to the lake. When he reached it, he noticed that some people werewashing clothes in the water and, right at that moment, a bullock cart started crossingthrough the lake. As a result, the water became very muddy, very turbid. The disciplethought, How can I give this muddy water to Buddha to drink! So he came back andtold 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 lake andget him some water to drink. The disciple obediently went back to the lake. This time hefound that the lake had absolutely clear water in it. The mud had settled down and thewater 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 whatyou 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 tocalm it down. It will happen. It is effortless.

What did Buddha emphasize here? He said, It is effortless. Having 'peace of mind' isnot 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 journalistand self-described "big, stocky bloke with a shaven head" named Gareth Edwards, whofirst wrote about this experience on the community blog metafilter.com is standing withother commuters in a long, snaking line for a bus, when a smartly dressed businessman

blatantly cuts in line behind him. ( Behind him: this detail matters.)

The interloper proves immune to polite remonstration, whereupon Edwards is seized by amagnificent idea. He turns to the elderly woman standing behind the queue-jumper, andasks her if she'd like to go ahead of him. She accepts, so he asks the person behind her,and the next person, and the next until 60 or 70 people have moved ahead, Edwards andthe seething queue-jumper shuffling further backwards all the time. The bus finally pullsup, 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


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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 edgeand and the beach. Back and forth this person went. As the man approached, he could seethat there were hundreds of starfish stranded on the sand as the result of the natural actionof the tide.

The man was stuck by the the apparent futility of the task. There were far too manystarfish. Many of them were sure to perish. As he approached, the person continued thetask 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 milesof beach covered with starfish. You can't possibly make a difference." The person lookedat the man. He then stooped down and pick up one more starfish and threw it back intothe 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 villagewhen 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.

"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 asiesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and playguitar 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 spendmore 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 afleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you would selldirectly to the consumers, eventually opening your own can factory. You would controlthe product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal


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fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually NYC where you willrun 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 wouldannounce an IPO - an Initial Public Offering - and sell your company stock to the publicand become very rich. You would make millions."

"Millions, senor? Then what?"

The American said slowly: "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishingvillage where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take a siesta withyour 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 theygreeted him warmly and paid him lavish compliments- all of them, that is but one. Afunny fellow, a philosopher named Diogenes. He had views not unlike those of theBuddha. According to him, possessions and all the things we think we need only serve todistract us and get in the way of our simple enjoyment of life. So he had given awayeverything he owned and now sat, almost naked, in a barrel in the market square inCorinth where he lived, free and independent like a stray dog.

Curious to meet this strange fellow, Alexander went to call on him. Dressed in shiningarmour, the plume on his helmet waving in the breeze, he walked up to the barrel andsaid to Diogenes: 'I like you. Let me know your wish and I shall grant it.' Diogenes, whohad 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 thesun.' 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 anacquaintance met the great philosopher and said, Do you know what I just heard aboutyour friend?

Hold on a minute, Socrates replied. Before telling me anything Id like you to pass alittle test. Its called the Triple Filter Test.

Triple filter?


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Thats right, Socrates continued. Before you talk to me about my friend, it might be agood idea to take a moment and filter what youre going to say. Thats why I call it thetriple filter test. The first filter is Truth . Have you made absolutely sure that what you areabout to tell me is true?

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

All right, said Socrates. So you dont really know if its true or not. Now lets try thesecond filter, the filter of Goodness . 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 youre notcertain its true. You may still pass the test though, because theres one filter left: thefilter of Usefulness . Is what you want to tell me about my friend going to be useful tome?

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 during thelast year. The magnificent four-day journey traverses one of the last wilderness areas inthe 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 commandswithout 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 wasessential.

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 provedthat we were superior. We knew that we could do it. We felt powerful and good. Themystery and majesty of the Motu had been overcome.

The second time I went down the Motu. the experience I had gained should have beeninvaluable, but the guide on this journey was a very softly spoken Kiwi. It seemed that itwould 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


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watched every little whirlpool. There was no drama and no shouting. There was nocontest to be won. He loved the river.

We sped through each rapid with grace and beauty and, after a day, the river had becomeour friend, not our enemy. The quiet Kiwi was not our leader, but only the person whosesensitivity 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 fromseeing. 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 tothe river and we looked carefully for all those things we had not even noticed the firsttime.

At the end of the journey, we had overcome nothing except ourselves. We did not want toleave behind our friend, the river. There was no contest, and so nothing had been won.Rather we had become one with the river.

It remains difficult to believe that the external circumstances of the two journeys weresimilar. 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, wehad 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 inthe house! There is a mousetrap in the house!"

The chicken clucked and scratched, raised her head and said "Mr.Mouse, I can tell this isa 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 amousetrap 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 noskin off my nose."

So, the mouse returned to the house, head down and dejected, to face the farmer'smousetrap alone.

That very night a sound was heard throughout the house - like the sound of a mousetrapcatching its prey. The farmer's wife rushed to see what was caught. In the darkness, shedid 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.


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Everyone knows you treat a fever with fresh chicken soup, so the farmer took his hatchetto the farmyard for the soup's main ingredient. But his wife's sickness continued, sofriends 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.

The mouse looked upon it all from his crack in the wall with great sadness. So, the nexttime 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 oneanother. 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 withclarity. I remember the occasion when mother sent me to the main road, about twentyyards away from the homestead, to invite a passing group of seasonal work-seekers homefor 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 concealmy feelings from my mother and, after serving the group, she called me to the verandawhere she usually sat to attend to her sewing and knitting.

Looking straight into my eyes, she daid "Tsholofelo, why did you sulk when I requestedyou 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 nonose". 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 travels sometime in the future, I found myself at the mercy of those very individuals. As if that wasnot 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 Ithen worked received several delegations from the emergent nations and we ran coursesfor them on how market economies operated and how free collective bargaining wasconducted. As is my practice when lecturing to foreign audiences, I had my visual aidstranslated into the vernacular, so I used overhead slides in Russian, although of course Ispoke in English and had an interpreter.

I cannot read the cyrillic alphabet and know very little Russian, so I just worked throughmy slides in order. However, there came a point when I could tell from the statistical dataon the latest slide that, for the previous ten minutes, I had been speaking to the wrongslide. British students would have pointed this out in seconds, but none of the Russians

had said a word.


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I was perplexed and asked why nobody had told me that I had been speaking to thewrong 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, inthe 1970s the North American Soccer League marked the brave first attempt to introducethe game to American sports fans. While most teams had only limited success at best, onedid 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 major executive at Warner Communications.

Max Ross told his son Steve: "In life there are those who work all day, those who dreamall day, and those who spend an hour dreaming before setting to work to fulfil thosedreams. Go into the third category because there's virtually no competition".

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

The little wave

The story is abut a little wave, bobbing along in the ocean, having a grand old time. He'senjoying 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 tohappen 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 goingto 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 theocean.

Source: "Tuesdays With Morrie" by Mitch Albom

Believe what you feel

On this day, Morrie says that he has an exercise for us to try. We are to stand, facingaway 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 modelsplashes into the pool..


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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 tothe girl, you closed your eyes, That was the difference. Sometimes you cannot believewhat 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 thedark. 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,thefather of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all whoattended. 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 mentallyhandicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presentsitself, and it comes, in the way other people treat that child."Then he told the followingstory:

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 belongingand 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, notexpecting much. The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runsand the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to puthim 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 hisFather had a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joyat 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 andon 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 basesloaded, 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 impossible

because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the

ball.


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However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing the other team puttingwinning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softlyso Shay could at least be able to make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swungclumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softlytowards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ballright back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over, but the pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could haveeasily 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 tofirst! 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, Shay awkwardlyran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to second base. By the time Shayrounded 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'sintentions and he too intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman'shead. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the basestoward home.

All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay" Shay reached third base, theopposing shortstop ran to help him and turned him in the direction of third base, andshouted, "Run to third! Shay, run to third" As Shay rounded third, the boys from bothteams and those watching were on their feet were screaming, "Shay, run home! Shay ranto home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the "grand slam" andwon the game for his team.

That day, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, the boys from bothteams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world. Shay didn't make itto another summer and died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero andmaking his father so happy and coming home and seeing his mother tearfully embraceher little hero of the day!

Source: Rabbi Paysach Krohn, a popular lecturer and best-selling author of the ArtScrollMaggid 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. Earlyin 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 difficultdrops blinded by snow and cold. Then Simpson fell into a crevasse and Yates eventuallyhad 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 Simpson wrote:


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"As I gazed at the distant moraines, I knew that I must at least try. I would probably dieout 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 nolonger 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 hurt when 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 threestone, and contracting ketoacidosis in the process, would be the stuff of heroic fiction if itwas not so true. Indeed, six operations and two years later, he was even back climbing.All because, against all the odds, he tried ...

Source: "Touching The Void" by Joe Simpson

King Arthur and the witch

Young King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighboringkingdom. The monarch could have killed him but was moved by Arthur's youth andideals. So, the monarch offered him his freedom, as long as he could answer a verydifficult 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 themost knowledgeable man, and to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query. But, sinceit was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an answer byyear's end.

He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everyone: the princess, the priests, the wisemen and even the court jester. He spoke with everyone, but no one could give him asatisfactory answer. Many people advised him to consult the old witch, for only shewould have the answer. But the price would be high; as the witch was famous throughoutthe 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 Sheagreed to answer the question, but he would have to agree to her price first. The old witchwanted to marry Sir Lancelot, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table andArthur'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; butLancelot, learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur. He said nothing was too big of asacrifice 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 awoman really wants, she answered....is to be in charge of her own life! Everyone in thekingdom instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and that Arthur's lifewould be spared. And so it was, the neighboring monarch granted Arthur his freedom and

Lancelot and the witch had a wonderful wedding.


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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 hadever 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 beautifulmaiden the other half. Which would he prefer? Beautiful during the day...or 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 havinga hideous witch during the day, but by night, a beautiful woman for him to enjoywondrous intimate moments?

Noble Lancelot said that he would allow HER to make the choice herself. Upon hearingthis, 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 Steinwaywaiting 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, andonly 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 quicklymoved to the keyboard.

He whispered gently to the boy, "Don't quit. Keep playing." Leaning over, Paderewskireached down with his left hand and began filling in the bass part. Soon his right armreached around the other side and improvised a delightful obligato. Together, the oldmaster and the young novice held the crowd mesmerized with their blended and beautifulmusic.

In all our lives, we receive helping hands - some we notice, some we don't. Equally weourselves have countless opportunites to provide helping hands - sometimes we wouldlike our assistance to be noticed, sometimes we don't. Little of what we all achieve iswithout learning from others and without support from others and what we receive weshould 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 northWales. 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 tellme what this is?" she exclaimed, tapping the photograph determinedly, unable to believe


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that the children were quite so ignorant. The 20 faces became apprehensive and evenfearful as she continued to question them with mounting frustration.

Eventually, one brave soul put up a tiny, reluctant hand. "Yes!" she cried, waving thesnap aloft. "Tell me what you think this is!" "Please, Miss," said the boy warily. "Is it athree-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 toapproach the world of work. He had a long and distinguished career in the Indian Armyand rose to become commander-in-chief of a million men. He was a soldier's soldier andhis men adored him. His manner was strict and firm, but he was very friendly. Heappreciated 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 I madean 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 thingis always to do something to the best of your ability. Then the second time you do it, giveit that little bit extra". What he was saying was: "Take the initiative; be innovative; becreative. Always go the extra mile."

Source: Karan Bilimoria, founder and chief executive of Cobra Beer, speaking toSheridan 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 mansaid that his weekend had not been very good. Hed had his wisdom teeth extracted. Theyoung man then proceeded to ask me why I always seemed to be so cheerful. Hisquestion reminded me of something I'd read somewhere before: Every morning whenyou get up, you have a choice about how you want to approach life that day, I said to theyoung man. I choose to be cheerful". Let me give you an example, I continued.

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

conversation. In addition to teaching here at UNLV, I also teach out at the communitycollege in Henderson, about seventeen miles down the freeway from where I live. Oneday a few weeks ago I drove those seventeen miles to Henderson. I exited the freewayand turned onto College Drive. I only had to drive another quarter-mile down the road tothe college. But just then my car died. I tried to start it again, but the engine wouldnt turnover. So I put my flashers on, grabbed my books, and marched down the road to thecollege.

As soon as I got there I called AAA and asked them to send a tow truck. The secretaryin 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 seventeen miles from here. I replied. My car could have broken down anywherealong 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 toarrange for the tow truck to meet me after class. If my car was meant to break downtoday, it couldn't have been arranged in a more convenient fashion. The secretary's eyesopened wide, and then she smiled. I smiled back and headed for class. So ended mystory to the students in my economics class at UNLV.

I scanned the sixty 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 wasvery 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 nativevillage, himself and two other young boys to compete. A large crowd had congregated towitness the sporting spectacle and a wise old man, upon hearing of the little boy, hadtravelled far to bear witness also.

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 winningline and was first. The crowd was ecstatic and cheered and waved at the boy. The wiseman remained still and calm, expressing no sentiment. The little boy, however. felt proudand important.
http://www.leeryanmiller.com/http://www.leeryanmiller.com/


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A second race was called, and two new young, fit, challengers came forward, to run withthe little boy. The race was started and sure enough the little boy came through andfinished 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 forwardand presented the little boy with two new challengers, an elderly frail lady and a blindman. "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 twochallengers left standing at the starting line. The little boy was ecstatic, he raised his armsin delight. The crowd, however, was silent showing no sentiment toward the little boy.

"What has happened? Why not do the people join in my success?" he asked the wise oldman. "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 themiddle of the blind man and the frail old lady, and then took the two challengers by thehand. The race began and the little boy walked slowly, ever so slowly, to the finishingline and crossed it. The crowd were ecstatic and cheered and waved at the boy. The wiseman 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 handson the boy's shoulders, and replied softly .. "Little boy, for this race you have won muchmore 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 andwatched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiestmerchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it. Many loudly blamed theKing 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 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 anopportunity 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:


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"A few days before Badenhorst's departure, I was called to the main office. General Steynwas visiting the island and wanted to know if we had any complaints. Badenhorst wasthere as I went through a list of demands. When I had finished, Badenhorst spoke to medirectly.

He told me he would be leaving the island and added: 'I just want to wish you peoplegood luck'. I do not know if I looked dumbfounded, but I was amazed. He spoke thesewords like a human being and showed a side of himself we had never seen before. Ithanked 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 themost callous and barbaric commanding officer we had had on Robben Island. But thatday in the office, he had revealed that that there was another side to his nature, a side thathad been obscured but still existed.

It was a useful reminder that all men, even the most seemingly cold-blooded, have a coreof 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 inhumansystem. 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 wasa 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 kindof joke. He had seen the cleaning woman several times. She was tall, dark-haired and inher 50s, but how would he know her name? He handed in his paper, leaving the lastquestion blank.

Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward thequiz 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 smileand 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 sohard 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 thekitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the potscame to a boil. In the first, she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in thelast 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 outand 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?"


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"Carrots, eggs, and coffee," the young woman replied. The mother brought her closer andasked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. She then asked her totake 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 - boilingwater - 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 beanswere 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: Whicham 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, butchanges with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit but, after a death, a breakup, or a financialhardship, 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 thehot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releasesthe fragrance and flavour.

If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change thesituation around you. When the hours are the darkest and trials are their greatest, do youelevate to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg, or acoffee bean?

The two wolves

A Native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt. He said, "Ifeel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violentone. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one." The grandson asked him, "Whichwolf 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 firein 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 towardsthis 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 youdoing 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."


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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. Byflying in a "V" formation, the whole flock adds at least 71 percent greater flying rangethan if each bird flew on its own.

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 togo 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 areheading 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 tolend help and protection. They stay with the fallen goose until it is able to fly or until itdies; and only then do they launch out on their own, or with another formation to catch upwith 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 awell. '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 thedepths came the answer, 'Go to the village crossroad: there you shall find what you areseeking'.

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 thinwires were for sale in the third. Nothing and no one there seemed to have much to dowith the revelation of truth.

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


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thought at the time - the seeker continued his wanderings in search of truth. As yearswent by, the memory of his experience at the well gradually faded until one night, whilehe was walking in the moonlight, the sound of sitar music caught his attention. It waswonderful music and it was played with great mastery and inspiration.

Profoundly moved, the truth seeker felt drawn towards the player. He looked at thefingers dancing over the strings. He became aware of the sitar itself. And then suddenlyhe 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 weneed: our task is to assemble and use it in the appropriate way. Nothing is meaningful solong 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 byconsidering 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 itwas 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 themonths, he had grown to hate them.

Martin was aware that colleagues approached these meetings with hidden agendas; theyindulged in game-playing; and he knew that people were not being honest and open. Themeetings 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 andmonotony. But, as the meeting progressed, he became aware of a strange backgroundnoise. At first, he thought that he was still hearing the engine noise from the aircraft thathad brought him back to London - he had had to sit over the wing and the droning wasterrible. 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 aswell as what they were saying . As he concentrated still harder, he found that he couldactually 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. Theywere not making clear their reservations. They were not supporting views which theythought might be unpopular. They were not contributing their new insights. They werenot volunteering their new ideas.

Martin found it impossible not to respond to his new knowledge. So he started to makegentle interventions, based more on what he could hear his colleagues thinking than onwhat he could hear them saying . "So, John are you really saying .." "Susan, Do youreally think that " "Tom, Have you got an idea on how we could take this forward?" Hewas 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.


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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 hiscolleagues were looking at him quizzically. One or two even had a gentle smile playingon their lips. Only gradually did it dawn on him - they could hear his thoughts and hewas not really saying what he was thinking.

As the meeting progressed, Martin became aware of changes to the tone and style of theevent. It was clear to him now that, one by one, each member of the meeting was learninghow 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 andtrusting.

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 belike that." "In future, I'm going to say what I think".


Chopsticks

A woman who had worked all her life to bring about good was granted one wish: "BeforeI die let me visit both hell and heaven." Her wish was granted.

She was whisked off to a great banqueting hall. The tables were piled high with deliciousfood and drink. Around the tables sat miserable, starving people as wretched as could be."Why are they like this?" she asked the angel who accompanied her. "Look at their arms," the angel replied. She looked and saw that attached to the people's arms were longchopsticks secured above the elbow. Unable to bend their elbows, the people aimed thechopsticks at the food, missed every time and sat hungry, frustrated and miserable.

"Indeed this is hell! Take me away from here!"

She was then whisked off to heaven. Again she found herself in a great banqueting hallwith tables piled high. Around the tables sat people laughing, contented, joyful. "Nochopsticks I suppose," she said. "Oh yes there are. Look - just as in hell they are long andattached above the elbow but look... here people have learnt to feed one another".

The problem with dandelions

A man who took great pride in his lawn found himself with a large crop of dandelions.

He tried every method he knew to get rid of them. Still they plagued him.

Finally he wrote to the Department of Agriculture. He enumerated all the things he hadtried and closed his letter with the question: "What shall I do now?"

In due course, the reply came: "We suggest you learn to love them."

In the same boat

Two men were out on the ocean in a boat.


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One of them began drilling in the bottom of the boat, and the other, aghast said "What areyou doing? Stop drilling!".

And the first man replied: "It's all right. I'm only drilling on my side."

The frogs and the tower

There once was a bunch of tiny frogs...

... who arranged a running competition. The goal was to reach the top of a very hightower. A big crowd had gathered around the tower to see the race and cheer on thecontestants...

The race began...

Honestly, no-one in crowd really believed that the tiny frogs would reach the top of thetower. You heard statements such as:

"Oh, WAY too difficult!!"

"They will NEVER make it to the top".

"Not a chance that they will succeed. The tower is too high!"

The tiny frogs began collapsing. One by one...

... Except for those who in a fresh tempo were climbing higher and higher...

The crowd continued to yell

"It is too difficult!!! No one will make it!"

More tiny frogs got tired and gave up...

...But ONE continued higher and higher and higher...

This one wouldn't give up!

At the end, everyone else had given up climbing the tower. Except for the one tiny frogwho, after a big effort, was the only one who reached the top!

THEN all of the other tiny frogs naturally wanted to know how this one frog managed todo it?

A contestant asked the tiny frog how the one who succeeded had found the strength toreach the goal?

It turned out...

That the winner was deaf.

The international food shortage


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Recently, a worldwide survey was conducted and the only question asked was: "Wouldyou please give your honest opinion about the solution to the food shortage in the rest of the world?"

The survey was, not surprisingly, a huge failure. Because:

In Africa they didn't know what "food" meant.

In Eastern Europe they didn't know what "honest" meant.

In Western Europe they didn't know what "shortage" meant.

In China they didn't know what "opinion" meant.

In the Middle East they didn't know what "solution" meant.

In South America they didn't know what "please" meant.

And, in the USA they didn't know what "the rest of the world" meant.

The Japanese master

A great Japanese master received a university professor who came to enquire aboutwisdom. The master served tea. He poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept on pouring.The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself. 'It isoverfull. No more will go in!' 'Like this cup,' the master said, 'you are full of your ownopinions and speculations. How can I show you wisdom unless you first empty your cup?'

The secret of happiness

A certain shopkeeper sent his son to learn about the secret of happiness from the wisestman in the world. The lad wandered through the desert for 40 days, and finally cameupon a beautiful castle, high atop a mountain. It was there that the wise man lived.

Rather than finding a saintly man, though, our hero, on entering the main room of thecastle, saw a hive of activity: tradesmen came and went, people were conversing in thecorners, a small orchestra was playing soft music, and there was a table covered with

platters of the most delicious food in that part of the world. The wise man conversed witheveryone, and the boy had to wait for two hours before it was his turn to be given the

man's attention.

The wise man listened attentively to the boy's explanation of why he had come, but toldhim that he didn't have time just then to explain the secret of happiness. He suggested thatthe boy look around the palace and return in two hours.

"Meanwhile, I want to ask you to do something", said the wise man, handing the boy ateaspoon that held two drops of oil. "As you wander around, carry this spoon with youwithout allowing the oil to spill".


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The boy began climbing and descending the many stairways of the palace, keeping hiseyes fixed on the spoon. After two hours, he returned to the room where the wise manwas.

"Well", asked the wise man, "Did you see the Persian tapestries that are hanging in mydining hall? Did you see the garden that it took the master gardener ten years to create?Did you notice the beautiful parchments in my library?"

The boy was embarrassed, and confessed that he had observed nothing. His only concern

had been not to spill the oil that the wise man had entrusted to him.

"Then go back and observe the marvels of my world", said the wise man. "You cannottrust a man if you don't know his house".

Relieved, the boy picked up the spoon and returned to his exploration of the palace, thistime observing all of the works of art on the ceilings and the walls. He saw the gardens,the mountains all around him, the beauty of the flowers, and the taste with whicheverything had been selected. Upon returning to the wise man, he related in detaileverything he had seen.

"But where are the drops of oil I entrusted to you?" asked the wise man. Looking down atthe spoon he held, the boy saw that the oil was gone.

"Well, there is only one piece of advice I can give you", said the wisest of wise men."The secret of happiness is to see all the marvels of the world and never to forget thedrops of oil on the spoon".

Author: Paul Coelho in "The Alchemist"

The house with the golden windows

The little girl lived in a small, very simple, poor house on a hill and as she grew shewould play in the small garden and as she grew she was able to see over the garden fenceand across the valley to a wonderful house high on the hill - and this house had goldenwindows, so golden and shining that the little girl would dream of how magic it would beto grow up and live in a house with golden windows instead of an ordinary house likehers.

And although she loved her parents and her family, she yearned to live in such a goldenhouse and dreamed all day about how wonderful and exciting it must feel to live there.

When she got to an age where she gained enough skill and sensibility to go outside her garden fence, she asked her mother is she could go for a bike ride outside the gate anddown the lane. After pleading with her, her mother finally allowed her to go, insistingthat she kept close to the house and didn't wander too far. The day was beautiful and thelittle girl knew exactly where she was heading! Down the lane and across the valley, sherode her bike until she got to the gate of the golden house across on the other hill.

As she dismounted her bike and lent it against the gate post, she focused on the path thatlead to the house and then on the house itself...and was so disappointed as she realised allthe windows were plain and rather dirty, reflecting nothing other than the sad neglect of the house that stood derelict.


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So sad she didn't go any further and turned, heart broken as she remounted her bike ... Asshe glanced up she saw a sight to amaze her...there across the way on her side of thevalley was a little house and its windows glistened golden ...as the sun shone on her littlehome.

She realised that she had been living in her golden house and all the love and care shefound there was what made her home the 'golden house'. Everything she dreamed wasright there in front of her nose!

Nothing is written

My all-time favourite film is "Lawrence Of Arabia" and, if I have a favourite scene fromthe movie, then I guess it is the one of Lawrence's triumphal return from the Nefuddesert, having gone back to rescue the Arab Gasim. The crossing of the Nefud desert isconsidered impossible, even by the local Arabs, but Lawrence persuades them that, in thisway, they can take the Turkish port at Aqaba from the rear.

Having carried out the superhuman feat of traversing this furnace, it is discovered thatone of the Arabs, Gasim, has fallen off his camel and is no doubt dying somewhere back

in the desert. Lawrence is told that any idea of rescue is futile and, in any event, Gasim'sdeath is "written". When Lawrence achieves the impossible and returns with Gasim stillalive, Sherif Ali admits to him: "Truly, for some men nothing is written unless they writeit".

As an impressionable teenager when this film was first released, I was stunned byLawrence's courage and unselfishness in going back into the hell of the Nefud to attemptto find a man he hardly knew among the vast expanse of a fiery terrain and I was somoved by the sense of purpose of a man who is determined to take nothing as "written"

but to shape his own destiny. This sense of anti-determinism and this belief that anythingis possible has stayed with me always and continues to inspire me in small ways and

large.


The Chinese farmer

There is a Chinese story of an old farmer who had an old horse for tilling his fields. Oneday the horse escaped into the hills and, when all the farmer's neighbours sympathisedwith the old man over his bad luck, the farmer replied, 'Bad luck? Good luck? Whoknows?'

A week later the horse returned with a herd of wild horses from the hills and this time theneighbours congratulated the farmer on his good luck. His reply was, 'Good luck? Badluck? Who knows?'

Then, when the farmer's son was attempted to tame one of the wild horses, he fell off its back and broke his leg. Everyone thought this very bad luck. Not the farmer, whose onlyreaction was, 'Bad luck? Good luck? Who knows?'

Some weeks later the army marched into the village and conscripted every able-bodiedyouth they found there. When they saw the farmer's son with his broken leg they let him

off. Now was that good luck? Bad luck? Who knows?


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King Solomon and the baby

One day, the wise King Solomon was approached by two women arguing over a baby.Each claimed the child was hers. Unable to judge, King Solomon thought up a plan - heoffered to cut the baby in half, giving half to the one and half to the other.

The first women agreed with the King: "Let the baby be neither mine nor hers, but divideit. If I can't have the child", she cried, "she can't have it either". The second women

pleaded with Solomon not to hurt the child. "Give her the baby. I'd rather lose the childthat see it slain".

Solomon knew immediately that this was the rightful mother. He returned the baby toher.

The wise teacher and the jar

There was once a very wise teacher, whose words of wisdom students would come fromfar and wide to hear. One day as usual, many students began to gather in the teaching

room. They came in and sat down very quietly, looking to the front with keenanticipation, ready to hear what the teacher had to say.

Eventually the teacher came in and sat down in front of the students. The room was soquiet you could hear a pin drop. On one side of the teacher was a large glass jar. On theother side was a pile of dark grey rocks. Without saying a word, the teacher began to pick up the rocks one by one and place them very carefully in the glass jar (Plonk. Plonk.)When all the rocks were in the jar, the teacher turned to the students and asked, 'Is the jar full?' 'Yes,' said the students. 'Yes, teacher, the jar is full'.

Without saying a word, the teacher began to drop small round pink pebbles carefully into

the large glass jar so that they fell down between the rocks. (Clickety click. Clicketyclick.) When all the pebbles were in the jar, the teacher turned to the students and asked,'Is the jar now full?' The students looked at one another and then some of them startednodding and saying, 'Yes. Yes, teacher, the jar is now full. Yes'.

Without saying a word, the teacher took some fine silver sand and let it trickle with agentle sighing sound into the large glass jar (whoosh) where it settled around the pink

pebbles and the dark grey rocks. When all the sand was in the jar, the teacher turned tothe students and asked, 'Is the jar now full?'

The students were not so confident this time, but the sand had clearly filled all the space

in the jar so a few still nodded and said, 'Yes, teacher, the jar is now full. Now it's full'.

Without saving a word, the teacher took a jug of water and poured it carefully, withoutsplashing a drop, into the large glass jar. (Gloog. Gloog.)

When the water reached the brim, the teacher turned to the students and asked, 'Is the jar now full?' Most of the students were silent, but two or three ventured to answer, 'Yes,teacher, the jar is now full. Now it is'.

Without saying a word, the teacher took a handful of salt and sprinkled it slowly over thetop of the water with a very quiet whishing sound. (Whish.) When all the salt had

dissolved into the water, the teacher turned to the students and asked once more, 'Is the


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jar now full?' The students were totally silent. Eventually one brave student said, 'Yes,teacher. The jar is now full'. 'Yes,' said the teacher 'The jar is now full'.

The teacher then said: 'A story always has many meanings and you will each haveunderstood many things from this demonstration. Discuss quietly amongst yourselveswhat meanings the story has for you. How many different messages can you find in it andtake from it?'

The students looked at the wise teacher and at the beautiful glass jar filled with grey

rocks, pink pebbles, silver sand, water and salt. Then they quietly discussed with oneanother the meanings the story had for them. After a few minutes, the wise teacher raisedone hand and the room fell silent. The teacher said: 'Remember that there is never justone interpretation of anything. You have all taken away many meanings and messagesfrom the story, and each meaning is as important and as valid as any other'.

And without saying another word, the teacher got up and left the room.

And another version of the same story ...

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When

the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty jar and proceeded to fillit with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.So the professor then picked up a box of small pebbles and poured them into the jar. Heshook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. Hethen asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sandfilled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students respondedwith a unanimous "Yes." The professor then produced two cans of beer from under thetable and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space

between the sand. The students laughed.

"Now", said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things - your family, your children,your health, your friends, your favorite passions - things that, if everything else was lostand only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things thatmatter like your job, your house, your car.

The sand is everything else - the small stuff. If you put the sand into the jar first" hecontinued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for thethings that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your

happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. There will always be time to clean the house, and fix the rubbish. Take careof the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is justsand".

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the beer represented. The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked. It just goes to show you that, no matter how full your lifemay seem, there's always room for a couple of beers".

Listening at Christmas and always


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A few years after I left my secondary school in Manchester, I was invited to help out withthe school's Christmas Fair and I decided to have a go at being Father Christmas. I hadrecently grown my first full beard and thought that I would enter into the role by rubbingflour into my growth. Though I say it myself, I looked rather splendid and certainly Iattracted lots of custom.

I was enjoying myself enormously, bringing a sense of magic to so many young children, but I was mystified by one young boy who paid for a second visit and then astonishinglyfor a third. The presents on offer were really pretty pitiful, so I asked him why he was

coming to see me so often. He answered simply: "I just love talking to you".

It was then that I realised that, in many households, parents do not encourage their children to talk and really listen to them. This was a lesson that I have taken with methroughout my life. So, at home, at work, socially, always encourage family, friends,colleagues to talk about themselves and their feelings - and really listen.


Every Bucket Counts

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