A young couple went to live in a new place. Next day morning sipping tea they were looking out of the window. Their neighbour was drying clothes on the clothline. She doesn’t know to wash clothes properly. Look at the dirt on thair clothes. The wife said. Without replying the husband was looking. This became a daily routine. Their time coincided n everyday the wife will comment about the dirt in their clothes while the husband was listening silently. Suddenly one day the wife said atlast today the clothes are clean. She has learnt to wash well. Quietly the husband replied ,. ‘ I cleaned our window glasses today morning. ‘
This is what happening in today’s lifestyle. Our uncleaned glasses make other’s things look dirty. But we never suspect our glasses.
Whether or not, there is some flaw with another we are ready to comment instead of finding the reason behind it.
The secret to thriving Is in nurturing the qualities That creates wellbeing In ourselves and around us Generating goodwill & interconnections Helping create a more resilient world Empowered in empathetic humanity Than just the survival of the fittest.
Self compassion is about treating yourself with kindness. Put your thoughts in perspective. Failure is an opportunity to learn and grow. Allow yourself to acknowledge defeat but not get caught up in it Learn to cope and grow beyond the setbacks. And try to be an encourager to yourself & be a friend!
THE DANCER An Excerpt From The Wanderer by Khalil Gibran,
Once there came to the court of the Prince of Birkasha a dancer and her musicians. And she was admitted to the court. And she danced to the music of the flute, the lute, and the zither. She danced the dance of flames and fire, and the dance of swords and spears; she danced the dance of stars and the dance of space, and then she danced the dance of flowers in the wind.
When she had finished, she approached the prince and bowed her body before him. The price bade her to come nearer, and said unto her, “Beautiful woman, daughter of grace and delight, whence comes your art? And how is it that you command all the elements in your rhythms and your rhymes?”
And the dancer came near and bowed her body again and said, “Gracious majesty, I know not the answer to your questionings. Only this I know: The philosopher soul dwells within his head, the poets soul dwells within his heart, the singers soul dwells about his throat, but the soul of the dancer abides in all her body.
T’WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, HE LIVED ALL ALONE, IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE, MADE OF PLASTER AND STONE. … I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY, WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE, AND TO SEE JUST WHO, IN THIS HOME, DID LIVE.
I LOOKED ALL ABOUT, A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE, NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS, NOT EVEN A TREE.
NO STOCKING BY MANTLE, JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND, ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES, OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.
WITH MEDALS AND BADGES, AWARDS OF ALL KINDS, A SOBER THOUGHT, CAME THROUGH MY MIND.
FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT, IT WAS DARK AND DREARY, I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER, ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.
THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING, SILENT, ALONE, CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR, IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.
THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE, THE ROOM IN DISORDER, NOT HOW I PICTURED, A TRUE AUSSIE SOLDIER.
WAS THIS THE HERO, OF WHOM I’D JUST READ? CURLED UP ON A PONCHO, THE FLOOR FOR A BED?
I REALISED THE FAMILIES, THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT, OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS, WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.
SOON ROUND THE WORLD, THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY, AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE, A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.
THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM, EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR, BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS, LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.
I COULDN’T HELP WONDER, HOW MANY LAY ALONE, ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE, IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.
THE VERY THOUGHT BROUGHT, A TEAR TO MY EYE, I DROPPED TO MY KNEES, AND STARTED TO CRY.
THE SOLDIER AWAKENED, AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE, “SANTA DON’T CRY, THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;
I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM, I DON’T ASK FOR MORE, MY LIFE IS MY GOD, MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS..”
THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER, AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP, I COULDN’T CONTROL IT, I CONTINUED TO WEEP.
I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS, SO SILENT AND STILL, AND WE BOTH SHIVERED, FROM THE COLD NIGHT’S CHILL.
I DID NOT WANT TO LEAVE, ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT, THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR, SO WILLING TO FIGHT.
THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER, WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE, WHISPERED, “CARRY ON SANTA, IT’S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE.”
ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH, AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT. “MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT.”
This poem was written by a Peacekeeping soldier stationed overseas. The following is his request. I think it is reasonable
“PLEASE. Would you do me the kind favour of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to all of the service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let’s try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us. Please, do your small part to plant this small seed.”
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