Baby Pigeons?
==============
Have you ever wondered why you don't see baby pigeons?
Have you ever wondered why pigeons spend so much time walking
when they could be flying?
Some of US spend so much time walking when we could be flying.
This is why you don't see Baby pigeons -
First of all, unlike other birds, pigeons hide their nests.
When they emerged in Asia, pigeons were cliff-dwellers. Now
they build their messy nests of sticks inside the guts of
bridges, or atop tall buildings, or on top of your air
conditioner.
Also, pigeons are very protective and babying parents. They lay
only two eggs at a time, and spoil those babies shamefully. By
the time they leave the nest, the babies are almost the same
size as their parents.
That's why you don't see baby pigeons.
The parents spoil the kids by keeping them sheltered and inside
away from the world until they are almost grown.
Is it any wonder why they fly as little as possible?
Think about that the next time you see a pigeon,
a big one walking.
~A MountainWings Original~
Saturday, 24 January 2009
CLOSET SPACE
CLOSET SPACE
=============
Is your closet too crowded?
Perhaps the single greatest indicator of the overload that we
have in life are closets.
They are packed.
It doesn't matter how big our closets are.
Sooner or later we fill them up.
Why?
There is a closet rule of life that states:
1. Clothes expand to fill all available closet space
2. Sooner or later if you keep getting more clothes
you either have to:
A. Get more closet space
B. Get rid of some clothes
2B is what we hate to do.
But if we are TO BE what we are TO BE,
we need to learn the rule of 2B and get rid of some clothes.
Time is like closet space. We have a limited amount of it.
We keep putting more and more things in until our time is
cluttered.
The more cluttered it gets, the more things are out of place.
The time that we should be sleeping, we've got something else in
that space.
The time that we should be spending with family, we've got
something else in that space.
The time that we should have to ourselves to do whatever we do
to help our spirit, we've got something else in that space.
Even as our closet hinges strain to keep from bursting, we still
try to put more stuff in.
Take a look around your closet of time right now.
How much has accumulated
that you should have gotten rid of long ago.
They still may be good clothes, but your closet is just too full.
We have habits that we formed in our teenage years
that should have long ago been removed from our closets.
Some even have friends that should have long ago been removed,
for they no longer fit our style or destination.
As you change and grow, you should change what's in your closet.
Maybe we don't need more stuff in the closet.
Maybe we don't need a bigger closet.
Maybe we just need to clean out some stuff
and not with the purpose to make room for more stuff.
We may just need some space,
In a lot of areas,
For a lot of reasons.
There is a spiritual saying
that tells you to go into your closet to pray.
For many of us, there's simply no room.
Go look at your bedroom closet right now.
Chances are, it will reflect your closet of time.
~A MountainWings Original~
Thank you for inviting MountainWings in your mailbox.
See you tomorrow.
Forward this issue to a friend or send them the link below:
http://www.mountainwings.com/past/1038.htm
=============
Is your closet too crowded?
Perhaps the single greatest indicator of the overload that we
have in life are closets.
They are packed.
It doesn't matter how big our closets are.
Sooner or later we fill them up.
Why?
There is a closet rule of life that states:
1. Clothes expand to fill all available closet space
2. Sooner or later if you keep getting more clothes
you either have to:
A. Get more closet space
B. Get rid of some clothes
2B is what we hate to do.
But if we are TO BE what we are TO BE,
we need to learn the rule of 2B and get rid of some clothes.
Time is like closet space. We have a limited amount of it.
We keep putting more and more things in until our time is
cluttered.
The more cluttered it gets, the more things are out of place.
The time that we should be sleeping, we've got something else in
that space.
The time that we should be spending with family, we've got
something else in that space.
The time that we should have to ourselves to do whatever we do
to help our spirit, we've got something else in that space.
Even as our closet hinges strain to keep from bursting, we still
try to put more stuff in.
Take a look around your closet of time right now.
How much has accumulated
that you should have gotten rid of long ago.
They still may be good clothes, but your closet is just too full.
We have habits that we formed in our teenage years
that should have long ago been removed from our closets.
Some even have friends that should have long ago been removed,
for they no longer fit our style or destination.
As you change and grow, you should change what's in your closet.
Maybe we don't need more stuff in the closet.
Maybe we don't need a bigger closet.
Maybe we just need to clean out some stuff
and not with the purpose to make room for more stuff.
We may just need some space,
In a lot of areas,
For a lot of reasons.
There is a spiritual saying
that tells you to go into your closet to pray.
For many of us, there's simply no room.
Go look at your bedroom closet right now.
Chances are, it will reflect your closet of time.
~A MountainWings Original~
Thank you for inviting MountainWings in your mailbox.
See you tomorrow.
Forward this issue to a friend or send them the link below:
http://www.mountainwings.com/past/1038.htm
Wednesday, 31 December 2008
Judge Gently
Judge Gently
Author Unknown
Pray don't find fault with the man who limps
or stumbles along the road,
unless you have worn the shoes he wears
or struggled beneath his load.
There may be tacks in his shoes that hurt,
though hidden away from view,
or the burden he bears, placed on your back
might cause you to stumble too.
Don't sneer at the man who's down today
unless you have felt the blow
that caused his fall or felt the shame
that only the fallen know.
You may be strong, but still the blows
that were his if dealt to you,
in the selfsame way, at the selfsame time,
might cause you to stagger too.
Don't be too harsh with the man who sins
or pelt him with word or stone,
unless you are sure, yea, doubly sure,
that you have no sins of your own -
for you know perhaps if the tempter's voice
should whisper as softly to you
as it did to him when he went astray,
it might cause you to stumble too.
Author Unknown
Pray don't find fault with the man who limps
or stumbles along the road,
unless you have worn the shoes he wears
or struggled beneath his load.
There may be tacks in his shoes that hurt,
though hidden away from view,
or the burden he bears, placed on your back
might cause you to stumble too.
Don't sneer at the man who's down today
unless you have felt the blow
that caused his fall or felt the shame
that only the fallen know.
You may be strong, but still the blows
that were his if dealt to you,
in the selfsame way, at the selfsame time,
might cause you to stagger too.
Don't be too harsh with the man who sins
or pelt him with word or stone,
unless you are sure, yea, doubly sure,
that you have no sins of your own -
for you know perhaps if the tempter's voice
should whisper as softly to you
as it did to him when he went astray,
it might cause you to stumble too.
Happy New Year
May peace fill all the empty spaces around you
And in you, may contentment answer all your wishes.
May comfort be yours, warm and soft like a sigh.
And may the coming year show you that every day
is really a first day, a new year.
Let abundance be your constant companion,
so that you have much to share.
May mirth be near you always,
like a lamp shining brightly
on the many paths you travel.
May you be true love.
Author Unknown
But Very Much Appreciated!
Five Beautiful Poems To Read On New Years Day
And in you, may contentment answer all your wishes.
May comfort be yours, warm and soft like a sigh.
And may the coming year show you that every day
is really a first day, a new year.
Let abundance be your constant companion,
so that you have much to share.
May mirth be near you always,
like a lamp shining brightly
on the many paths you travel.
May you be true love.
Author Unknown
But Very Much Appreciated!
Five Beautiful Poems To Read On New Years Day
Look between the sights, ....
Look between the sights, hear between the words, feel between your heart and mind... and there you'll find the Universe, conspiring, on your behalf, with magic, miracles and more.
Thursday, 2 October 2008
Moment of Love
Moment of Love
Inviting More Love into Our Hearts
The brief statement below is designed to remind us of the common humanity we share with all people in our world. Take a moment to read these words slowly and really feel the beautiful message here. By choosing to focus less on what divides us, and more on what unites us, we can more effectively build a brighter future for us all.
Every person in the world has a heart
Every heart has a place within
that wants only to love and be loved
Let us connect with that
place of love in our own heart
and in the hearts of all around us
Let us take a moment now
to open to the heart connection
we share with all people through love
Inviting More Love into Our Hearts
The brief statement below is designed to remind us of the common humanity we share with all people in our world. Take a moment to read these words slowly and really feel the beautiful message here. By choosing to focus less on what divides us, and more on what unites us, we can more effectively build a brighter future for us all.
Every person in the world has a heart
Every heart has a place within
that wants only to love and be loved
Let us connect with that
place of love in our own heart
and in the hearts of all around us
Let us take a moment now
to open to the heart connection
we share with all people through love
The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget
The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget
by Kent Nerburn
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.
So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
"It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."
"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.
"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."
I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.
"Nothing," I said.
"You have to make a living," she answered.
"There are other passengers."
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."
I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware—beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
See our collection of inspiring resources at http://www.weboflove.org/inspiringresources
by Kent Nerburn
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.
So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute," answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
"It's nothing," I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated."
"Oh, you're such a good boy," she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.
"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice."
I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long."
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now."
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.
"Nothing," I said.
"You have to make a living," she answered.
"There are other passengers."
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said. "Thank you."
I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware—beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
See our collection of inspiring resources at http://www.weboflove.org/inspiringresources
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