The Magic Bowls « Result #1 on Feb 28, 2009, 3:05am »
A dove laid an egg in the hollow of a big tree in front of the blacksmith's house. When she flew away from her nest in search of food, the blacksmith's wife stole the egg. The dove came back to her nest and found the egg missing. The dove knew at once that the blacksmith's wife must have taken it. So she went to the woman and pleaded, "Give me back my egg, please."
The blacksmith's wife pretended that she knew nothing about it and said, "What egg are you talking about? I didn't see any egg." The dove was heartbroken and flew about looking for help. On the way she met a pig, who asked, "Why are you crying, little bird?"
She said, "O pig, can you help me? Will you dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
"No, not I," grunted the pig, walking away.
She then met a hunter, who asked, "Why are you in tears, little bird?"
The bird said, "Will you shoot an arrow at the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
"Why should I? Leave me out of this," said the hunter, walking away.
The dove wept some more and flew on till she met a rat, who also asked why she was in tears. The dove said, "Will you gnaw and cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
The rat too said, "Not I," and went his own way.
Next she met a cat, who asked, "What's the matter, little bird?"
"Will you catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
The cat would rather mind her own business.
The poor dove was beside herself with anger and grief. Her wails attracted the attention of a passing dog, who asked her what was bothering her. She said, "Will you bite the cat who wouldn't catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
"No, not I," said the dog and ran away.
The dove's wails grew louder and louder.
An old man with a long white beard came that way and asked the crying bird what the matter was. She said, "Grandfather, will you beat the dog who wouldn't bite the cat who wouldn't catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
The old man didn't want to do anything of the sort and shook his head and went his way.
The dove next went to the fire for help and asked it to burn the white beard of the old man, but the fire wouldn't do it. Next the dove went to the water and asked it to put out the fire which wouldn't burn the beard of the old man who refused to beat the dog who wouldn't bite the cat who wouldn't catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole the egg. Water too was unwilling to help.
Not long afterwards, the dove met an elephant and asked if he would stir up the water which wouldn't put out the fire which refused to burn the beard of the old man who wouldn't . . .
The elephant said, "No, not I."
Then the dove looked about and found a black ant, who also asked her what was troubling her.
"O ant! I know you can help me. Will you go into the elephant's trunk and bite him for not stirring up the water which wouldn't put out the fire which wouldn't burn the beard of the old man who wouldn't beat the dog who wouldn't bite the cat who wouldn't catch the rat who wouldn't cut the bowstring of the hunter who wouldn't shoot the pig who wouldn't dig up the yams of the blacksmith's wife who stole my egg?"
"Why not? Here I go," said the ant and crawled inside the elephant's trunk and bit it in the softest place, very hard. This made the elephant dash into the pool of water and stir it up. The water splashed and began to put out the fire, which went mad and burned the white beard of the old man, who beat the dog, who ran after the cat and bit her. The cat caught the rat, who gnawed the bowstring of the hunter's bow. The hunter tied on a new one and shot an arrow at the pig, who went and dug up all the yams of the blacksmith's wife.
The blacksmith's wife knew at once what she had to do and carefully put the dove's egg back in the nest in the hollow of the big tree.
Parwati and the Beggar-Man « Result #2 on Feb 28, 2009, 3:05am »
Once upon a time there was a town called Atpat. In It there lived a Brahman. He had seven daughters, and when they had reached a marriageable age he asked them who would arrange their marriages and bring them handsome husbands and make their fortunes. The six eldest daughters said, "Papa, Papa, you of course. You will arrange our marriages and bring us handsome husbands and make our fortunes for us."
But the youngest daughter was a naughty little girl. She got into a temper all about nothing, and she stamped her foot, and she turned her back on her father and said, "I will arrange my own marriage, and I will get a handsome husband for myself, and I will make my fortune myself." The Brahman was very angry with her, and so how do you think he punished her? He first searched about and found six rich and handsome boys. Then he married them with great pomp and display to his six eldest daughters.
But the youngest girl he gave in marriage to a miserable beggar-man. You never saw such a beggar-man as he was! There was not a spot on his skin that was not black with leprosy, and his feet and hands had rotted right off. If you had seen him you would have said, "If that beggar-man does not die to-day he will certainly die to-morrow. For he cannot possibly live any longer!" When the marriage was celebrated, the little girl's mother filled her lap with wheat and then handed her over to the beggar-man to see what sort of fortune would be hers.
But in a few days the beggar-man died. His corpse was taken to the burning-ground, and his little widow followed it. But when his relatives wanted to burn the body, she forbade them and told them to go away. For she said, "My fortune is still to come, whatever it may be." They all got round her and tried to persuade her that there was no use in her staying by the corpse, but she would not mind what they said. At last they were quite tired out and went home, leaving her in the burning-ground. When they had gone she took her husband's corpse on to her lap. Then she prayed to the god Shiva and said:
"My parents disown me. O why was I born Both as orphan and widow to live all forlorn?"
As she prayed, she put the wheat which her mother had put into her lap grain by grain in the dead man's mouth. Then she sat there crying until midnight. Now it happened that on that very night Shiva and Parwati were in their chariot driving through the air over that very place. Parwati said suddenly to her husband, "I hear a woman crying, let us go and see what it is."
The god Shiva drove his chariot down to earth. He and Parwati got out and saw the Brahman's youngest daughter crying. They asked her what the reason was, and she told them. Then Parwati pitied her and said, "Your aunt has acquired great merit by her piety and devotions. You go to her and get her to give you all her merit and so you will bring your husband back to life." The god Shiva and Parwati then mounted on their chariot and disappeared.
Next morning the little widow left her husband's body, went to her aunt's house and begged her to give her all the merit which she had acquired, and told her the cause of the request. The aunt was very good and gave her all her own merit. The little widow then went back to the burning-ground and with its aid brought her husband back to life. But this time he was no longer a beggar-man black with leprosy and with feet and hands that had rotted away. He was a beautiful young man with well-shaped feet and a beautiful fair skin, and the little widow took her husband back to her father's house.
"Papa, Papa," she said, "you turned me out, but the gods have brought me back, and good fortune came to me without your bringing it." The father was too frightened of Parwati to say anything, so he held his peace. And the little girl and her husband, the beggar-man, lived happily ever afterwards.
From the time each of my children started school, wow power leveling,I packed their lunches. And in each lunch I packed, I included a note. Often written on a napkin, the note might be a thank you for a special moment, a reminder of something we were happily anticipating, or a bit of encouragement for an upcoming test or sporting event. In early grade school they loved their notes-they commented on them after school, and when I went back to teaching, wow power leveling,they even put notes in my lunches. But as kids grow older they become self?conscious, and by the time he reached high school, my older son, Marc, informed me he no longer needed my daily missives. Informing him that they had been written as much for me as for him, and that he no longer needed to read them but I still needed to write them, I continued the tradition until the day he graduated.
Six years after high school graduation, Marc called and asked if he could move home for a couple of months. He had spent those years well, graduating Phi Beta Kappa magna cum laude from college, completing two congressional internships in Washington, wow power leveling,D.C., winning the Jesse Marvin Unruh Fellowship to the California State Legislature, and finally, becoming a legislative assistant in Sacramento. Other than short vacation visits, however, he had lived away from home. With his younger sister leaving for college, I was especially thrilled to have Marc coming home.
A couple weeks after Marc arrived home to rest, regroup and write for a while, he was back at work-he had been recruited to do campaign work. Since I was still making lunch every day for his younger brother, wow gold,I packed one for Marc, too. Imagine my surprise when I got a call from my 24?year?old son, complaining about his lunch.
"Did I do something wrong? Aren't I still your kid? Don't you love me any more, wow gold,Mom?" were just a few of the queries he threw at me as I laughingly asked him what was wrong.
"My note, Mom," he answered. "Where's my note?"
This year my youngest son will be a senior in high school. He, too, has now announced that he is too old for notes. But like his older brother and sister before him,wow gold,he will receive those notes till the day he graduates-and in whatever lunches I pack for him afterwards.
I first heard this story a few years ago from a girl I had met in New York's Greenwich Village.wow power leveling, Probably the story is one of those mysterious bits of folklore that reappear every few years, to be told a new in one form or another. However, I still like to think that it really did happen, somewhere, sometime.
They were going to Fort Lauderdalethree boys and three girls and when they boarded the bus, they were carrying sandwiches and wine in paper bags, wow power leveling,dreaming of golden beaches as the gray cold of New York vanished behind them.
As the bus passed through New Jersey, they began to notice Vingo. He sat in front of them, dressed in a plain, ill-fitting suit, never moving, his dusty face masking his age. He kept chewing the inside of his lip a lot, frozen into some personal cocoon of silence.
Deep into the night, outside Washington, the bus pulled into Howard Johnson's, and everybody got off except Vingo. He sat rooted in his seat, and the young people began to wonder about him, trying to imagine his life: perhaps he was a sea captain, a runaway from his wife, an old soldier going home. When they went back to the bus,wow gold, one of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself.
“We're going to Florida,” she said brightly.“ I hear it's really beautiful.”
“It is, ” he said quietly, as if remembering something he had tried to forget.
“Want some wine?” she said. He smiled and took a swig. He thanked her and retreated again into his silence. After a while, she went back to the others, and Vingo nodded in sleep.
In the morning, they awoke outside another Howard Johnson's,and this time Vingo went in. The girl insisted that he join them. He seemed very shy, and ordered black coffee and smoked nervously as the young people chattered about sleeping on beaches.wow power leveling, When they returned to the bus, the girl sat with Vingo again, and after a while, slowly and painfully, he told his story. He had been in jail in New York for the past four years, and now he was going home.
“Are you married?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?” she said.
“Well, when I was in jail I wrote to my wife,” he said. “ I told her that I was going to be away a long time, and that if she couldn't stand it, if the kids kept asking questions, if it hurt too much, well, she could just forget me, I'd understand. Get a new guy, I saidshe‘s a wonderful woman,really somethingand forget about me. I told her she didn't have to write me for nothing. And she didn‘t. Not for three and a half years.”
“And you're going home now, not knowing?”
“Yeah,” he said shyly. “ Well, last week, when I was sure the parole was coming through, I wrote her again. We used to live in Brunswick, just before Jacksonville, and there's a big oak tree just as you come into town. I told her that if she'd take me back, she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and I'd get off and come home. If she didn't want me, forget itno handkerchief, and I'd go on through.”
“Wow,” the girl exclaimed. “Wow.”
She told the others,wow gold, and soon all of them were in it, caught up in the approach of Brunswick, looking at the pictures Vingo showed them of his wife and three children. The woman was handsome in a plain way, the children still unformed in the much-handled snapshots.
Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took over window seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oak tree. The bus acquired a dark, hushed mood, full of the silence of absence and lost years. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face into the ex-con's mask, as if fortifying himself against still another disappointment.
Then Brunswick was ten miles, and then five. wow gold,Then,suddenly, all of the young people were up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and crying, doing small dances of joy. All except Vingo.
Vingo sat there stunned, looking at the oak tree. It was covered with yellow handkerchiefs20 of them, 30 of them, maybe hundreds, a tree that stood like a banner of welcome billowing in the wind. As the young people shouted, the old con rose and made his way to the front of the bus to go home.
She is my wife, my lover, my best friend. For over fourteen years, our marriage has endured and grown. I can honestly state that after all this time together, my love for Patricia has not diminished in the slightest way.wow power leveling In fact, through each passing day, I find myself more and more enraptured by her beauty. The best times of my life are the times we spend together, whether sitting quietly watching television or enjoying an afternoon at a San Diego Chargers game.
There is no secret to why our marriage has lasted while so many others have failed. There is no formula for success that I can offer, other than to express that the most important feature of our relationship is that it has never lost the sense of romance that bloomed when we first met. Too often marriage kills the romance that was born in the courtship of a relationship. To me, I have always felt that I am still courting Patricia, and therefore the romance has never died.
Romance is not something that can be taught or copied. One can only be romantic through another.wow gold Patricia, my wife of fourteen years, has instilled the romance in me. I am romantic because of her. Patricia has always brought out the best in me. The many aspects of our romance are too numerous to mention. However, there is one special romantic interlude that I began over fifteen years ago.
Before we were married, Patricia and I could not see each other as much as we would have like during the week. The weekends always went too fast, and the days in between dragged on forever. wow power leveling I decided that I needed to do something to make the weekdays go faster, or at least to give us something to look forward to during the week.
And so it began on Wednesday some fifteen years ago: I bought a card and gave it to Patricia. There was no special occasion.wow gold The card was just an expression of how much I loved her and How much I was thinking about her. I picked Wednesday for no special reason other than it was the middle of the week.
Since that day, I have never missed a Wednesday -- Patricia has received a card from me every Wednesday, every week, every month, every year.
The purchase of the card each week is not done out of habit. It is my romantic mission each week to find the right card. At times, my search takes me to many different card stores to find that perfect offering.wow gold I have been known to spend a considerable amount of time in front of the card displays, reading up to a dozen different cards before I choose the right one. The picture and the words in the card must have specific meaning to me and must remind me in some way of Patricia and our life together. The card needs to evoke an emotion in me. I know that if a card brings a tear of happiness to my eyes, I have found the right one.
Patricia awakens each Wednesday morning to find her card, and even though she knows it will be there, she still lights up with excitement when she tears
open the envelope and reads what is inside.wow power leveling And I still get just as excited giving each card to her.
At the foot of our bed is a brass chest that is filled with all of the greeting cards Patricia has received from me over the past fifteen years, hundreds and hundreds of cards, each one full of just as much love as the next. I can only hope that our life together will last long enough for me to fill ten brass chests with my weekly messages of love, affection and most of all thanks for the joy Patricia has brought to my life.
A Thanksgiving Story « Result #6 on Feb 12, 2009, 12:14am »
It was the day before Thanksgiving -- the first one my three children and I would be spending without their father, who had left several months before. Now the two older children were very sick with the flu, and the eldest had just been prescribed bed rest for a week.
It was a cool, gray day outside,wow power leveling and a light rain was falling. I grew wearier as I scurried around, trying to care for each child: thermometers, juice, diapers. And I was fast running out of liquids for the children. But when I checked my purse, all I found was about $2.50 -- and this was supposed to last me until the end of the month. That’s when I heard the phone ring.
It was the secretary from our former church, and she told me that they had been thinking about us and had something to give us from the congregation. I told her that I was going out to pick up some more juice and soup for the children,wow gold and I would drop by the church on my way to the market.
I arrived at the church just before lunch. The church secretary met me at the door and handed me a special gift envelope. “We think of you and the kids often,” she said, “and you are in our hearts and prayers. We love you.” When I opened the envelope, I found two grocery certificates inside.wow power leveling Each was worth $20. I was so touched and moved, I broke down and cried.
“Thank you very much,” I said, as we hugged each other. “Please give our love and thanks to the church.” Then I drove to a store near our home and purchased some much-needed items for the children.
At the check-out counter I had a little over $14.00 worth of groceries,wow gold and I handed the cashier one of the gift certificates. She took it, then turned her back for what seemed like a very long time. I thought something might be wrong. Finally I said, “This gift certificate is a real blessing. Our former church gave it to my family, knowing I’m a single parent trying to make ends meet.“
The cashier then turned around, with tears in her loving eyes, and replied, “Honey, that’s wonderful! Do you have a turkey?”
“No. It’s okay because my children are sick anyway.”
She then asked, “Do you have anything else for Thanksgiving dinner?”
Again I replied, “No.”
After handing me the change from the certificate, she looked at my face and said, “Honey, I can’t tell you exactly why right now,wow power leveling but I want you to go back into the store and buy a turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie or anything else you need for a Thanksgiving dinner.”
I was shocked, and humbled to tears. “Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes! Get whatever you want. And get some Gatorade for the kids.”
I felt awkward as I went back to do some more shopping, but I selected a fresh turkey, a few yams and potatoes
, and some juices for the children. Then I wheeled the shopping cart up to the same cashier as before. As I placed my groceries on the counter, she looked at me once more with giant tears in her kind eyes and began to speak.
“Now I can tell you. This morning I prayed that I could help someone today, and you walked through my line.” She reached under the counter for her purse and took out a $20 bill. She paid for my groceries and then handed me the change. Once more I was moved to tears.
The sweet cashier then said, wow gold“I am a Christian. Here is my phone number if you ever need anything.” She then took my head in her hands, kissed my cheek and said, “God bless you, honey.”
As I walked to my car, I was overwhelmed by this stranger’s love and by the realization that God loves my family too, and shows us his love through this stranger’s and my church’s kind deeds.
The children were supposed to have spent Thanksgiving with their father that year, but because of the flu they were home with me, for a very special Thanksgiving Day. They were feeling better, and we all ate the goodness of the Lord’s bounty -- and our community’s love. Our hearts were truly filled with thanks.
Gifts of the Heart « Result #7 on Feb 12, 2009, 12:08am »
In this hustle-bustle world we live in it's so much easier to charge something on a credit card rather than give a gift of the heart. And gifts of the heart are especially needed during the holidays. A few years ago, I began to prepare my children for the fact that Christmas that year was going to be a small one. Their response was, "Yeah sure, Mom, we've heard that before!" I had lost my credibility because I had told them the same thing the previous year, while going through a divorce.wow power leveling But then I had gone out and charged every credit card to the max. I even found some creative financing techniques to pay for their stocking stuffers. This year was definitely going to be different, but they weren't buying it. A week before Christmas, I asked myself, What do I have that will make this Christmas special? In all the houses we had lived in before the divorce, I had always made time to be the interior decorator. I had learned how to wallpaper, to lay wooden and ceramic tile, to sew curtains out of sheets and even more. But in this rental house there was little time for decorating and a lot less money. Plus, I was angry about this ugly place, I with its read and orange carpets and turquoise and green walls. I refused to put money into it. Inside me, and inner voice of hurt pride shouted, We're not going to be here that long! Nobody else seemed to mind about the house except my daughter Lisa, who always tried to make her room her special place. It was time to express my talents.wow gold I called my ex-husband and asked that he buy a specific bedspread for Lisa. Then I bought the sheets to match. On Christmas Eve, I spent $15 on a gallon of paint. I also bought the prettiest stationery I'd ever seen. My goal was simple: I'd paint and we and stay busy until Christmas morning, so I wouldn't have time to feel sorry for myself on such a special family holiday. That night, I gave each of the children three pieces of stationery with envelopes. At the top of each page were the words, "What I love about my sister Mia," "What I love about my brother Kris," What I love about my sister Lisa" and "What I love about my brother Erik." The kids were 16, 14, wow power leveling 10 and 8, and it took some convincing on my part to assure them that they could find just one thing they liked about each other. As they wrote in privacy, I went to my bedroom and wrapped their few store-bought gifts. When I returned to the kitchen, the children had finished their letters to one another. Each name was written on the outside of the envelope. We exchanged hugs and goodnight kisses and they hurried off to bed. Lisa was given special permission to sleep in my bed, with the promise not to peek until Christmas morning. I got started in the wee hours of Christmas morn,wow gold I finished the curtains, painted the walls and stepped back to admire my masterpiece.
Wait-why not put rainbows and clouds on the walls to match the sheets? So out came my makeup brushes and sponges, and at 5 A.M. I was finished. Too exhausted to think about being a poor "broken home," as statistics said,wow gold I went to my room and found Lisa spread-eagled in my bed. I decided I couldn't sleep with arms and legs all over me, so I gently lifted her up and tiptoed her into her room. As I laid her head on the pillow, she said, "Mommy, is it morning yet?" "No sweetie, keep your eyes closed unit Santa comes." I awoke that morning with a bright whisper in my ear. "Wow, Mommy, it's beautiful!" Later, we all got up and sat around the tree and opened the few wrapped presents. Afterward the children were given their three envelopes. We read the words with teary eyes and red noses. Then we got to "the baby of the family's" notes. Erik, at 8, wasn't expecting to hear anything nice. His brother had written: "What I love about my brother Erik is that he's not afraid of anything." Mia had written,wow power leveling "What I love about my brother Erik is he can talk to anybody!" Lisa had written, "What I love about my brother Erik he can climb trees higher than anyone!" I felt a gentle tug at my sleeve, then a small hand cupped around my ear and Erik whispered, "Gee, Mom, I didn't even know they like me!" In the worst of times, creativity and resourcefulness had given us the best of times. I'm now back on my feet financially, and we've had many "big" Christmases with lots of presents under the tree…but when asked which Christmas is our favorite, we all remember that one.
She is my wife, my lover, my best friend. For over fourteen years, our marriage has endured and grown. I can honestly state that after all this time together, my love for Patricia has not diminished in the slightest way.wow power leveling In fact, through each passing day, I find myself more and more enraptured by her beauty. The best times of my life are the times we spend together, whether sitting quietly watching television or enjoying an afternoon at a San Diego Chargers game.
There is no secret to why our marriage has lasted while so many others have failed. There is no formula for success that I can offer, other than to express that the most important feature of our relationship is that it has never lost the sense of romance that bloomed when we first met. Too often marriage kills the romance that was born in the courtship of a relationship. To me, I have always felt that I am still courting Patricia, and therefore the romance has never died.
Romance is not something that can be taught or copied. One can only be romantic through another.wow gold Patricia, my wife of fourteen years, has instilled the romance in me. I am romantic because of her. Patricia has always brought out the best in me. The many aspects of our romance are too numerous to mention. However, there is one special romantic interlude that I began over fifteen years ago.
Before we were married, Patricia and I could not see each other as much as we would have like during the week. The weekends always went too fast, and the days in between dragged on forever. wow power leveling I decided that I needed to do something to make the weekdays go faster, or at least to give us something to look forward to during the week.
And so it began on Wednesday some fifteen years ago: I bought a card and gave it to Patricia. There was no special occasion.wow gold The card was just an expression of how much I loved her and How much I was thinking about her. I picked Wednesday for no special reason other than it was the middle of the week.
Since that day, I have never missed a Wednesday -- Patricia has received a card from me every Wednesday, every week, every month, every year.
The purchase of the card each week is not done out of habit. It is my romantic mission each week to find the right card. At times, my search takes me to many different card stores to find that perfect offering.wow gold I have been known to spend a considerable amount of time in front of the card displays, reading up to a dozen different cards before I choose the right one. The picture and the words in the card must have specific meaning to me and must remind me in some way of Patricia and our life together. The card needs to evoke an emotion in me. I know that if a card brings a tear of happiness to my eyes, I have found the right one.
Patricia awakens each Wednesday morning to find her card, and even though she knows it will be there, she still lights up with excitement when she tears
open the envelope and reads what is inside.wow power leveling And I still get just as excited giving each card to her.
At the foot of our bed is a brass chest that is filled with all of the greeting cards Patricia has received from me over the past fifteen years, hundreds and hundreds of cards, each one full of just as much love as the next. I can only hope that our life together will last long enough for me to fill ten brass chests with my weekly messages of love, affection and most of all thanks for the joy Patricia has brought to my life.
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