Anwaar
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Speak the truth and keep on coming.
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Post by Anwaar on Oct 9, 2005 11:58:03 GMT 4
ONE OF THE BEST STORIES I'VE EVER HEARD!!!!!!
As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.
Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big "F" at the top of his papers.
At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.
Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around.."
His second grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an ex cellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."
His third grade teacher wrote, "His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."
Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class."
By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume . But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on he r wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to."
After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her "teacher's pets.."
A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.
Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.
Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.
Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's deg ree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.
The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.
They hugged ea ch other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, "Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference."
Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, "Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you."
(For you that don't know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr. at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)
Warm someone's heart today. . . pass this along. I love this story so very much, I cry every time I read it. Just try to make a difference in someone's life today? tomorrow? just "do it".
Random acts of kindness, I think they call it!
"Believe in Angels, then return the favor"
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DT1
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You know, it's not like I wanted to be right about all of this...
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Post by DT1 on Oct 9, 2005 13:08:07 GMT 4
Havin a hard time typin this...screen suddenly got blurry. haven't had tears fall down my face like this in YEARS... tears of joy are precious. I thank you.
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Anwaar
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Speak the truth and keep on coming.
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Post by Anwaar on Oct 9, 2005 15:11:51 GMT 4
It's good to cry sometimes Chris. Those who are incapable of doing that have brought us to this pass.
It's the only difference between us humans and animals.
It's good to cry sometimes.
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Post by kiwigurl on Oct 9, 2005 23:52:51 GMT 4
I have ahad teachers that have touched my life. Thank you, Hildegard Mercier, for bringing enlightenment into my life. I think I have to find a way to find her and let her know that she is one of the most leading influences in my life. She opened our eyes in sixth grade to history, where we came from and what we went through.
Do we all have teachers like that?
I hope so.
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michelle
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I have broken any attachments I had to the Ascended Masters and their teachings; drains your chi!
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Post by michelle on May 19, 2006 9:17:08 GMT 4
Pittsburgh Man Volunteering in New Orleans to Return $15,000 in Cash Found While Gutting Home of Hurricane Katrina Victim 5/18/2006 8:03:00 AM
Contact: Margaret Dubuisson of Catholic Charities of New Orleans, 504-592-5691 or 504-905-1070; or Corinne Knight, 504-592-5690
Jason Tuite, a 22-year-old Catholic Charities Operation Helping Hands volunteer and Wheeling Jesuit University graduate from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania found $15,000 in cash while gutting the home of 91-year old Hurricane Katrina victim Julius Carriere with a team of students from the university. Tuite will return the money to Carriere's family during an event to May 18.
WHAT: Catholic Charities volunteer who found $15,000 cash while gutting a Hurricane Katrina victim's home in New Orleans returns the money to its grateful owner.
AVAILABLE FOR INTERVIEWS: Jason Tuite -- Catholic Charities' Operation Helping Hands volunteer and Julius Carriere -- Homeowner/Hurricane Katrina victim
WHEN: Thursday, May 18, at 10 a.m. CST
WHERE: Carriere Home, 2714 St. Anthony in Gentilly, New Orleans
BACKGROUND: Catholic Charities volunteer Jason Tuite was gutting the home of Hurricane Katrina victim Julius Carriere when Tuite began finding small envelopes, boxes and finally a couple of canvas bags full of cash. Tuite immediately notified the school volunteer group coordinator and the Operation Helping Hands supervisor on the job site. Deacon John Ferguson, Director of Field Operations for Operation Helping Hands, said the cash filled a 20-gallon plastic storage container and weighed about 50 pounds because there were so many small bills and coins. Ferguson took the money to the Catholic Charities office on Howard Avenue for safekeeping and counting - the money totaled $15,000. The money had been stashed away for years by Carriere, a former owner of a dry cleaning business, because he didn't trust banks. Carriere's granddaughter, Marla Jefferson, said her family couldn't believe the money was still there.
Catholic Charities, the largest social service agency in the region, has coordinated the efforts of 3414 volunteers to gut the homes of 350 elderly or disabled hurricane victims through its Operation Helping Hands Program. The program has supplied 93,873 hours of volunteer labor to help with gutting and cleaning project.
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Anwaar
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Speak the truth and keep on coming.
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Post by Anwaar on Dec 20, 2006 15:34:19 GMT 4
If there are still people like these out there, planet earth is not doomed. Not yet. Read on. Anwaar
Two Choices
What would you do?....you make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the same choice?
At a fundraising dinner for a 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 (not expecting much) if Shay could play. 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 and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. His Father watched with 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 impossible because 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 that the other team was 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 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. 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 first baseman's head, 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 run that far, but he 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 awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball ... the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so 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 because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning 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 the spectators, were on their feet screaming, "Shay, run home! 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. He 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!
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vossy
New Member
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Post by vossy on Mar 12, 2007 1:25:00 GMT 4
Random Acts of Kindness are one of the beat things around when you are down and a random person is kind it really brings you up to know that someone cares
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michelle
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I have broken any attachments I had to the Ascended Masters and their teachings; drains your chi!
Posts: 2,100
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Post by michelle on May 29, 2007 18:47:05 GMT 4
You may have already seen this, if so, it is a powerful story that bears retelling. Michelle
We all know or knew someone like this!!
One day, when I was a freshman in high school,
I saw a kid from my class was walking home from school.
His name was Kyle.
It looked like he was carrying all of his books.
I thought to myself, "Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday?
He must really be a nerd."
I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on.
As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him.
They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt.
His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him
He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes
My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him as he crawled around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye.
As I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks."
They really should get lives.
He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!"
There was a big smile on his face.
It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.
I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived.
As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before.
He said he ha d gone to private school before now.
I would have never hung out with a private school kid before.
We talked all the way home, and I carried some of his books.
He turned out to be a pretty cool kid.
I asked him if he wanted to play a little football with my friends
He said yes.
We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him.
Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again.
I stopped him and said, "Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!" He just laughed and handed me half the books.
Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends.
When we were seniors we began to think about college.
Kyle decided on Georgetown and I was going to Duke.
I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem.
He was going to be a doctor and I was going for business on a football scholarship.
Kyle was valedictorian of our class.
I teased him all the time about being a nerd.
He had to prepare a speech for graduation.
I was so glad it wasn't me having to get up there and speak.
Graduation day, I saw Kyle.
He looked great.
He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school.
He filled out and actually looked good in glasses.
He had more dates than I had and all the girls loved him.
Boy, sometimes I was jealous!
Today was one of those days.
I could see that he was nervous about his speech.
So, I smacked him on the back and said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be great!"
He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled.
"Thanks," he said.
As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began
"Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years.
Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach...but mostly your friends...
I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them.
I am going to tell you a story."
I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met.
He had planned to kill himself over the weekend.
He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn't have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home.
He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile.
"Thankfully, I was saved.
My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable."
I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment.
I saw his Mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile.
Not until that moment did I realize its depth.
Never underestimate the power of your actions.
With one small gesture you can change a person's life.
For better or for worse.
God puts us all in each others lives to impact one another in some way.
Look for God in others.
Pass this on to your friends
"Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly."
There is no beginning or end.. Yesterday is history.
Tomorrow is a mystery.
Today is a gift.
Show your friends how much you care. Send this to everyone you consider a FRIEND.
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michelle
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I have broken any attachments I had to the Ascended Masters and their teachings; drains your chi!
Posts: 2,100
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Post by michelle on Feb 27, 2008 16:42:16 GMT 4
AMERICAN AND ALONE Posted By: Michael Goodspeed Date: Monday, 25 February 2008, 2:01 p.m. url for this post and commentary: tinyurl.com/yuc6uoYou may wonder why I decided to post the following under Random Acts of Kindness. I did so because this article serves as a mirror for many to peer into; it reflects the lifestyles of many American families.
The lifestyle described here is completely alien to me; I have never really engaged in many of the pass times mentioned here....except, at one time, I did my share of bar hopping.....Over the years, I began to watch what was going on as if I was separate from the the indulging patrons of the bar scene and it finally dawned on me that I didn't belong here, it offered nothing to me other than some very low vibratory energies to be impinged upon my aura.
What do I do with my time? Well today, I've been up for hours before sunrise...First thing I put the kettle on for coffee, then sit quietly before beginning my day...this puts me in a peaceful state and lends armor, so to speak, against any assaults on my patience and good sense. I swept the snow from my steps and sidewalk, enjoying the briskness of the air on my skin...then on to do the same for the elderly neighbor while he slept. You see, he is of the generation of men who's pride gets in the way of accepting any form of help....I know this about him and allow him to remain so by doing his steps and walk without his watching. Oh, I'm sure he knows it's me shoveling for him...but in this way, I don't cause him any internal grief.
I then walked with my dogs, enjoying the skyline as it began to light up. I watched my beloved river reflect the opposite shoreline's lights [I'm lucky to live on the side which is completely undeveloped]. It's very cold today and the snow crunched under my steps...a most satisfying sound to me. As the sun rose, the snow glittered with millions of diamonds, all reflecting the sun in the rainbow colors of a prism; it was so beautiful...and all there for me to experience because I took the time to look.
Heading home, I noticed the bumper to bumper traffic on one of the mountain roads and thought, "Those poor saps! What's the point in it all?" The roads are bad this morning, and except for doctors, nurses, road crews, and utility workers, would the world shut down if they all took some time and delayed getting to work? If so, could they not enjoy the same delights as I this morning? Maybe let the road crews do their job? No, I'm sure many were in a near panic as they fretted about getting to work on time [which they most likely won't, judging by the creeping headlights]. I can just hear the curses coming from within some of those automobiles!
Anyway, I started out saying this essay reflects the lifestyles of many American families; I offer it as an act of kindness for any who care to examine their priorities in life. The author has a message for all who read his words. My view of waking up to reality involves becoming aware of my multidimensional self and the creation of what type of world I wish to live in....I wait for the many to even begin to wake up from the stupor described below.
Wishing for You a beautiful life, MichelleAmerican and Alone By Michael Goodspeed The word is "atomized." It describes a thing that has been fragmented, it exists in disconnected parts, like a family ripped apart by divorce or a building that's been bombed. Whereas once the cohesive organization of individual units formed a mighty structure, the atomized thing ceases to be a thing at all. It's liquidated. Obliterated. At best an idea. For atomized human beings, deprived of the vital experiences of community, fellowship, and shared purpose, the feeling is one of alienation. Since one does not seem connected to anyone or anything else, one's focus inevitably becomes brute self-interest. Narcissism, competitiveness, mistrust, and defensiveness reign among atomized individuals. Like threatened bullfrogs, we puff ourselves up into formidable things. We build massive egos, a bunch of useless hot air, to try and fill the gaping void caused by love's absence. "Atomized" is the best term to describe the collective socio-psychic state of 21st century Americans. Contracted individuals exist separate and alone, only occasionally "coming together" to butt heads and give each other the finger. Author Chuck Palahniuk (Fight Club, Survivor) perfectly characterized the present state of our culture, describing the new American Dream as the desire "to get so rich you can rise above the rabble, all those people on the freeway or, worse, the bus. No, the dream is a big house, off alone somewhere....Some lovely isolated nest where you can invite only the rabble you like. An environment you can control, free from conflict and pain. Where you rule....Whether it's a ranch in Montana or basement apartment with ten thousand DVDs and high-speed Internet access, it never fails. We get there, and we're alone. And we're lonely." Recent studies confirm Chuck's observations. In 2006, a study in the American Sociological Review claimed that the average American only has two close friends in whom to confide, while almost 25 percent claim to have no friends at all (1). Another recent study found a marked increase in the suicide rate of middle-age American men (2). In 2004, a similar bump -- 8 percent -- was found among American children and young adults aged 10 to 24, the largest rise in fifteen years (3). And of course, there is the seemingly endless string of "berserker" shootings perpetrated by disaffected, friendless young men. Far from the spotlight of popular media -- who remain obsessed with more sophisticated matters such as Britney Spears, steroids in baseball, and yet another stultifyingly irrelevant Presidential election -- this is the reality of life in 21st century America. Despite the total pervasiveness of electronic "communications," more and more of us are alone and lonely. Across the full socioeconomic, racial, and gender spectrum, for Americans young and old, rich and poor, fat and thin, married and single, loneliness has become the rule rather than the exception. If you live in a big city like Seattle or Chicago, you're probably lonely even though you're surrounded by an endless sea of anonymous faces. The most human contact you get is when you "interact" with sales clerks at shopping outlets, or when some enraged driver who nearly ran you over at a pedestrian crossing tells you to f*** off. None of the places of social congregation intentionally cater to "socialization"; they are designed for one purpose, to take your money. Bars, restaurants, night clubs, movie theaters. You may find some less mercenary jaunts such as book stores and cafes, friendly little places run by ex-hippies and young vegans who might not even call the police if you don't buy something within five minutes. But even in the most benevolent locales, you will most likely be restricted to politely inane conversations with "strangers." America's big cities are packed with many attractive, well-dressed, pseudo-hip young professionals, cell phones and iPods plugged into their ears, hordes of mostly polite zombies whose faces stretch in smiles that never quite reach their eyes. For "fun" they go clubbing and drinking and they drop caps of ecstasy and have joyless anonymous sex with each other. They probably imagine themselves popular and cool immersed in the movies of their lives. And they're alone, and they're lonely. In the suburbs, it's far worse. Mostly Caucasian families exist atomized and oblivious to their neighbors, insulated in their private, media-focused fantasy lives. What do you do for "fun" in the suburbs? You watch TV. You go to the movies. You surf the Net. If you have the dough, you go to NBA games so you can feel cool and important for a couple of hours. If you're young, you go to the mall to see and be seen by the opposite sex. Maybe you have a family to keep you company. Maybe you even love them. But for more and more Americans, even this bare comfort has become quite tenuous. Nearly 30 million Americans live in single-person households, with the number increasing every year (4). Why are we alone? Why are we lonely? A number of converging factors conspire to keep us separate and "atomized." It is unavoidable that, despite the brutal, relentless taxation of Americans, a high cost of living, and the sparsity of job security, our populace remains relatively affluent. When people have enough money to get by (and more), they tend to believe they don't "need" their neighbors and will contract from community. Severely compounding the problem is the addictive, mind-controlling influence of media so pervasive as to be unavoidable. TV, movie, and now Internet obsession has seized the minds of countless millions of Americans -- CGI-generated surround-sound fantasy worlds provide more risk-free stimulation than real-world activities and friendships. Throw into the mix the apocalypse that is public education -- a sizable chunk, perhaps majority, of U.S. citizens can now barely read, write, or speak coherently -- and you have a populace incapable of interacting with one another in a healthy manner. A 2006 study claims that young people in the U.S. today are more narcissistic than their predecessors (5). According to this study, narcissistic personalities are "more likely to have romantic relationships that are short-lived, at risk for infidelity, lack emotional warmth, and to exhibit game-playing, dishonesty and over-controlling and violent behaviors." In other words, American youngsters are increasingly too emotionally, mentally, and perhaps neurologically damaged to form healthy human relationships. It's easy to ascribe words like spoiled, egocentric, lazy, or even "soulless" to today's youths, but this is a denial of the frightful reality into which children in the U.S. are born. For decades now, Mass Media, the public school system, and the food, beverage, and drug industries have addled, shocked, and/or manipulated the minds of children into states of helpless stupor. Kids who were never taught to read, write, or form cogent thoughts, who were abused and dehumanized by their peers, who are deprived of one or more parent(s), who belong to no community, and whose brains have been irreparably damaged by a relentless chemical assault are obviously high-risk for personality disorders. The tendency toward narcissism is not surprising, given the vicious, mercenary promotion of egocentric values by corporate Mass Media and the culture at large. Of course, atomization, contraction, and loneliness are not endemic to the United States. A recent study revealed that in Australia, the greatest percentage of depressed and lonely people live in posh Sydney, the nation's most affluent city (6). Ironically (or perhaps predictably), the happiest people surveyed live in a poor coastal town called Wide Bay, where everyone knows one another, and meaningful personal connections are commonplace. In fact, according to the Australian Unity Well-being Index survey of 23,000 Australians, eight of the top nine happiest electorates in Australia are poor and isolated rural communities. "The people in country towns seem to have a high level of connection with one another, they have good relationships, the neighbours know their kids and look out for them," said survey author Bob Cummins from Deakin University. The benefit of close-knit communities is more tangible than the emotional and spiritual. In California, not far from the L.A./Ontario International Airport, has recently emerged "Tent City," a haven for a rapidly growing "suburban homeless" population (7). These are not the stereotypical homeless, addicted to drugs and alcohol or ravaged by mental illness. The national economic downturn and the rise in foreclosures has made homelessness a very real possibility for all but the wealthiest of Americans. Knowing and communicating with one's neighbors is not only healthy for one's mind and soul, it is becoming increasingly necessary for one's safety and very survival. What brings people together? Aside from physical interdependence, the one thing that reliably creates unity in human beings is a shared sense of purpose and meaning. Unfortunately, thanks to the relentless dumbing down of Americans by Media, Big Pharma, and the public school system, the collective attention of our nation remains focused on the ephemeral, inane, grotesque, and meaningless. Vacuous obsessions like professional sports and celebrity gossip may indeed provide a shared interest for some people, but not satisfaction nor a sense of meaning. To find real unity, human beings must live in a state of mental and physical health and wholeness. This means being educated, vibrant, awake and joyous. In today's America, the only way to achieve this is to willfully react against the collective (programmed) impulse toward the inane and destructive. Media, Industry and Government surely don't mind if Americans sit alone and lonely, constructing monuments to our egos and watching TV. It cannot be our destiny to live like this -- atomized, contracted, damaged, and suffering. We must fortify our minds and bodies and seek out meaningful connections with other human beings. We must celebrate our cultural endeavors that thrive on human creativity and ingenuity, and we must shun the collective obsession with the trivial and stupid. We must recognize our dependence on our neighbors, open the door to him or her as a brother or sister, and reinforce the meaningful and life-affirming in one another. Our nation is broken, fragmented, and teetering on the verge of collapse. We have very little time left. We're Americans, and we need each other. Sources: (1) www.msnbc.msn.com/id/14126192/ (2) www.iht.com/articles/2008/02/19/america/19suicide.php (3) www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20620477/ (4) www.usatoday.com/community/utils/idmap/13081523.story (5) www.cbsnews.com/stories/2007/02/27/health/main2519593.shtml (6) www.abc.net.au/worldtoday/content/2006/s1568612.htm (7) www.dailybulletin.com/ci_8277825 Source: www.rumormillnews.com/cgi-bin/forum.cgi?read=119560
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Anwaar
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Post by Anwaar on May 2, 2008 11:46:37 GMT 4
RED MARBLES I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes.
I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes, but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas.
I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
'Hello Barry, how are you today?'
'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.'
'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'
'Good. Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.'
'Would you like take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.
'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'
'All I got's my prize marble here.'
'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller.
'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'
'I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.
'Not zackley but almost.'
'Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble', Mr. Miller told the boy.
'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.
With a smile, she said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.
When they come back with their red marbles , and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'
I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man.
A short time later I moved to Colorado, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one.
Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died.
They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.
Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men.
One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking.
They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.
Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.
Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket.
Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them.
Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size....they came to pay their debt.'
'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho'.
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shining red marbles.
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michelle
Administrator
I have broken any attachments I had to the Ascended Masters and their teachings; drains your chi!
Posts: 2,100
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Post by michelle on Dec 12, 2008 15:07:05 GMT 4
Love Now
On the surface of the world right now there is war and violence and things seem dark But calmly and quietly, at the same time, something else is happening underground An inner revolution is taking place and certain individuals are being called to a higher light It is a silent revolution From the inside out From the ground up
It is time for me to reveal myself I am an embedded agent of a secret, undercover Clandestine Global operation A spiritual conspiracy We have sleeper cells in every nation on the planet
You won't see us on the T.V. You won't read about us in the newspaper You won't hear about us on the radio
We don't seek any glory We don't wear any uniform We come in all shapes and sizes Colors and styles
Most of us work anonymously We are quietly working behind the scenes in every country and culture of the world Cities big and small, mountains and valleys, in farms and villages, tribes and remote islands
You could pass by one of us on the street and not even notice We go undercover We remain behind the scenes It is of no concern to us who takes the final credit But simply that the work gets done
Occasionally we spot each other in the street We give a quiet nod and continue on our way so no one will notice
During the day many of us pretend we have normal jobs But behind the false storefront, at night is where the real work takes place
Some call us the 'Conscious Army' We are slowly creating a new world with the power of our minds and hearts We follow, with passion and joy Our orders from the Central Command The Spiritual Intelligence Agency
We are dropping soft, secret love bombs when no one is looking Poems Hugs Music Photography Movies Kind words Smiles Meditation and prayer Dance Social activism Websites Blogs Random acts of kindness
We each express ourselves in our own unique ways with our own unique gifts and talents
'Be the change you want to see in the world' That is the motto that fills our hearts We know it is the only way real transformation takes place We know that quietly and humbly we have the power of all the oceans combined
Our work is slow and meticulous Like the formation of mountains It is not even visible at first glance And yet with it entire tectonic plates shall be moved in the centuries to come
Love is the new religion of the 21st century
You don't have to be a highly educated person Or have any exceptional knowledge to understand it
It comes from the intelligence of the heart Embedded in the timeless evolutionary pulse of all human beings
Be the change you want to see in the world Nobody else can do it for you
We are now recruiting Perhaps you will join us Or already have.... All are welcome... The door is open-Brian Piergrossi (www.thebigglow.com) (From the book 'The Big Glow')Source: humanitysteam.org/node/726
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michelle
Administrator
I have broken any attachments I had to the Ascended Masters and their teachings; drains your chi!
Posts: 2,100
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Post by michelle on Dec 14, 2008 14:47:23 GMT 4
Hero Dog Tries to Help Mortally Wounded Dog - ChileI had to post the following; my dogs, Daisy and Flyboy, begged me to! As we watched it together, tears welled up in both human and canine eyes. I also sensed feelings of appreciation coming from my pack members toward the humans who so honored the little dog in the video; Daisy and Flyboy are mighty pleased see their species held in such esteem.
Some comments at the various videos posted suggest that the video is fake....I'm guessing these people never had pets. I've lived with dogs who could speak in human words....my friends were always skeptical, until they heard and exclaimed, "Oh my God! Your dog just said your name!"
One jack russell/beagle mix, Archie, had a vocabulary of 12 words. I didn't teach him these either, he just picked the words up. Most were names of myself, family and friends, but he also said 'home' and 'outside.' Archie once pulled me out of a dream where I was under psychic attack; I couldn't get out of this dream and he pulled me through by saying my name over and over until I woke up.
Here's the video, if you haven't seen it. Following is an article from petfinder.com on homeless dogs. Please give them a look, especially if you're considering getting a pet....Most of the numerous and varied animals I live with are rescues, or unwanted by their previous owners.
Namaste, Michelle, Daisy, Flyboy, and The Animal KingdomsHero Dog It's A Dog Save Dog WorldThis video has been viewed by millions around the world with the same gut-wrenching, yet heartwarming reaction. At the time of my narration, it was reported that the injured dog had lived. Unfortunately, we now know otherwise.
What is most important to note is the fact that it took a little stray dog with a big heart to touch the world and in doing so, perhaps put us in touch with ourselves. Judging from the countless comments of concern, it is obvious that, for the most part, we are one in our respect for life.
So, wherever you live and whatever you may take in from the media this week, may you long remember the message this loving homeless canine brought us on the eve of the holiest of seasons.
Sonny Melendrez.A Dog Saves Another Dog Hit By A CarThis may be the most amazing animal video we have ever seen. The video is from a traffic camera overlooking the busy Costanera Norte freeway in Santiago, Chile. It shows a dog that has been hit by a car on a busy highway. Under these conditions, such an animal would not have a chance of being saved. Enter our compassionate hero... Update!Chileans have a new hero: an apparently homeless dog that pulled the body of another dog through traffic off a busy highway. A surveillance camera on a Santiago freeway captured images of a dog trotting past speeding cars to pull the lifeless body of the other canine, which had been run over by a vehicle, away from traffic and onto the median strip. The scene was broadcast by Chilean television stations and then posted on Web sites, and hundreds of thousands of people had viewed versions of it by Monday. Highway crews removed both the dead and live dogs from the median strip of the Vespucio Norte Highway shortly after the Dec. 4 incident. But the rescuer dog ran away. Authorities say images of the rescue prompted some people to call and offer to adopt the dog, but neither highway workers nor a television crew could find they animal. Source: AP News Source: www.sonnyradio.com/herodog.html------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Homeless dog a hero dog in Chile -- how can we help other street dogs?By Emily, marketing manager Posted December 10, 2008 1:54 PM | A lot of attention has been paid recently to the story of the hero dog in Chile who risked his life to pull an injured dog off of a busy highway. After the above video aired on TV last week and quickly became a YouTube phenomenon, Chilean officials said they got 15 calls from people offering to adopt the pup (the injured dog, sadly, died). But because the incident happened in March, police and highway workers have given up on finding the hero dog. As is so often the case, people are rightly moved to want to help an animal whose news-making story tugs at the heartstrings, but there are many, many others who need our help just as badly who don't have the benefit of the media spotlight. And while the dog in the video displayed courage and selflessness, anyone who knows dogs knows that each one is a hero in his or her own way -- even if they just heroically lick our faces when we're feeling down. If you're interested in helping street dogs in developing countries, you can support the Humane Society International's Street Animal Welfare campaign, which works to promote a humane philosophy of animal control in nations around the world. (Here's a story about its recent spay-neuter program in Patagonia, Chile.)Another great organization if the International Fund for Animal Welfare, whose Community-Led Animal Welfare program provides veterinary services, including spaying and neutering, to pet owners in some of the world's poorest communities. And most important, if you heart went out to the homeless hero dog in Chile, don't forget that there are thousands of homeless dogs right here in the U.S. -- nearly 190,000 listed on Petfinder. These dogs may not be living in the streets, thank goodness, but they still need forever homes -- and the shelter and rescue-group staffers who've devoted their lives to them need your help. Previous entries: Helping homeless dogs in Chile Sept. 28 is World Rabies Day -- who knew? Categories: Animal welfare, Overseas pets, Pet news Source and more info: blog.petfinder.com/petfinder/2008/12/10/a-hero-dog-wins-hearts----but/
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