Inspirational Story

NEED WASHING??

2009-10-28T01:45:00.000-07:00

A little girl had been shopping with her Mom in Target. She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful red haired, freckle faced image of innocence.. It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the earth it has no time to flow down the spout. We all stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the Target.

We waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed up their hurried day. I am always mesmerized by rainfall. I got lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child came pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day.

The little voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in,

"Mom let's run through the rain," she said.

'What?' Mom asked.

'Let's run through the rain!' She repeated

'No, honey. We'll wait until it slows down a bit,' Mom replied.

This young child waited about another minute and repeated: 'Mom, let's run through the rain,'

'We'll get soaked if we do,' Mom said...

'No, we won't, Mom.. That's not what you said this morning,' the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom's arm.

This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?

'Don't you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said, 'If God can get us through this, he can get us through anything!'

The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear you couldn't hear anything but the rain..... We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes. Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say. Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what was said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child's life. A time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith.

'Honey, you are absolutely right. Let's run through the rain. If GOD let's us get wet, well maybe we just needed washing,' Mom said.

Then off they ran. We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and yes, through the puddles. They held their shopping bags over their heads just in case. They got soaked. But they were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars.

And yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing.

Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions, they can take away your money, and they can take away your health. But no one can ever take away your precious memories...So, don't forget to make time and take the opportunities to make memories everyday. To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.

I HOPE YOU STILL TAKE THE TIME TO RUN THROUGH THE RAIN.

They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them. Send this to the people you'll never forget and remember to also send it to the person who sent it to you. It's a short message to let them know that you'll never forget them..

If you don't send it to anyone, it means you're in a hurry.

Take the time to live!!!

Keep in touch with your friends, you never know when you'll need each other -- and don't forget to run in the rain!

Why I Became a Hindu / a Krishna Bhakta

2009-08-27T18:29:00.000-07:00

By Stephen Knapp

When I go to India one of the most common questions I get is why did I become a Hindu, or what attracted me so much to India and its culture. Many people wonder why, if I’m born in the opulence and decadence of the West, would I be so interested in India? Why would I be so fascinated by their ancient Vedic tradition? Wouldn’t I already have everything I would want, everything I need? Maybe not. Maybe the American dream is not all it’s cracked up to be, at least not without a higher level of spirituality for balance and completeness. Maybe Western religion also does not give all we need. So, let me provide a little insight into why I took up the Dharmic path.

Now this is about “why” I became a follower of Sanatana-dharma, not “how” I became a Dharmist, which is a longer story. But this does include a little of how it happened.

Back when I was a teenager, I felt like I did not fit into this world and thought ill of the premise that the whole purpose of life seemed to be based on the idea that you have to get an education to learn a skill so you could find a career that should last the rest of your life, even if you don’t know what you want to do. So, I was cynical toward everyone because of that, and would have fun playing the subtle game of tearing apart anyone’s paltry purpose for their existence. In that process, I would find that most people also had little reason for what they were doing. They just went along with the crowd because it seemed right, or because their parents wanted them to do something. Of course, it was amusing to my friends to make these kinds of jokes at others’ expense, but I was just irritated for being pushed into a world with social patterns and expectations that didn’t make sense to me.

In my mid-teens I became a musician. Music was the only thing I liked. It saved my life. I learned how to play guitar and specialized in bass guitar, and became quite good at it. So, I spent time hanging out with other musicians, artists, and hippies of the area, and though we would express ourselves in various ways, we would still get serious at times and sit down and wonder what was our real purpose in this life and where we really fit into this world. Then, in my late teenage years, I had to set my guitar down for a while and do some considerable research into the various philosophies and spiritual paths of the world to find some solid answers for the real purpose of life.

Having grown up as a Christian, which was typical of most people in America, I decided to seriously look into it. I studied the Bible, not only in Sunday school and Church, but privately I read the Bible from cover to cover. It took me a year to do that, so I was fairly determined, but I did it. This was simply to see what was really contained in its pages. I knew of few other people, especially of my age, who had read the Bible from cover to cover. But I had more questions than it could answer. So, I had to keep searching for the spiritual knowledge I wanted to know, because if you look deeply into the Bible, it mostly covers moralistic principles, what to do or not do. These, of course, are necessary for any religious path, but it is only the beginning. I wanted to know more about spiritual knowledge and the process to increase my spiritual perception. The fact of the matter is that most religions start with faith and end with faith, without any real spiritual experiences or realizations in between. There is often nothing to take you to a deeper level of self-perception, but merely the same beliefs in concepts that remain outside your own encounters, and often times with no encouragement from the church authorities to reach that higher level of consciousness. So, I obviously had to look elsewhere for the information I needed.

Now is that being difficult? I don’t think so. I was just asking the kind of questions that any inquisitive and decent human being would ask. But if you look, what does the Bible say about God, even in simple matters such as what is His form, what does He look like? Other than mentioning that He appeared as a burning bush or a dove, etc., it does not say much. It also says he is a jealous and angry God. But why would God be angry and jealous, and of who? He already owns everything, and everyone is under His control, so what is the problem? Or is it actually a matter of humanity merely projecting their own weaknesses on their conception of God? Then the conception of God that is presented is not really God at all, but merely mankind’s idea of what God must be, based on their own weaknesses and imagination. Well, this was not what I wanted to learn.

Furthermore, what does the Bible really say about the soul, about our spiritual nature, about our spiritual relationship with God and each other, or even about heaven and hell, or things like that? Furthermore, it was completely absent of any description of the soul. Thus, it really does not say all that much regarding higher spiritual knowledge, which means there are numerous questions left unanswered. This also means that we have to rely mostly on faith that we are doing what is necessary to reach heaven. After all, this is one of the goals of Christianity. Everyone has hopes of going to heaven. In this way, it offers a very elementary level of spiritual knowledge based on the idea that you have to do whatever the church tells you if you expect to have any relationship with God. Without that, you may face excommunication, which is synonymous with going to hell. Sorry folks, but that is not enough for me, or any sensible person for that matter.

However, another problem is that the church took out most references to the topics of karma and reincarnation, which I later found out in my research had been a part of a political ploy to keep people in line with the demands of the church. Without such obedience, they would not be good Christians, and, thus, have no standing in the eyes of God, or so they say. So, you cannot expect to get the whole spiritual truth out of such books when these kinds of things are done to them.

So, where do we go to find the answers? Therefore, I also studied Judaism, Egyptology, magic, witchcraft, I Ching, palmistry, Tarot, Voodoo, Zen Buddhism, mysticism, Yoga, and many other esoteric topics. I even read most of the Koran. However, as anyone who reads the Koran will see, in comparison with other scriptures, it is not a book which focuses much on theology or spiritual doctrine. It does not dwell on describing our eternal spiritual identity, the characteristics of the soul, or the spiritual nature of God. In fact, it provides a harsh view of God when compared to other religious texts like the Vedic literature. It presents God, Allah, as a God who gives out much punishment with little or no mercy for those fallen ones who do not follow the Islamic path, even though verses within it say how merciful He is. But this is mercy mostly showed to those who are already followers of Islam or who convert to Islam, while apostates deserve to be killed. But, again, is this really God, or only mankind projecting their own characteristics and demands into their concept of God?

In this way, it became obvious to me that all religions are not the same. They definitely take you to different levels of understanding. The Bible and Koran, for example, deal mostly with moralistic principles, which are, of course, necessary if a person is to begin any spiritual process. However, books of the western religions consist mostly of rules, or dos and don’ts with the promise that if you follow all of them properly, you will go to heaven. Otherwise, you go to hell with no second chance. In the conventional monotheistic religions, it’s like you are walking a tightrope just to make sure you do not make the mistakes that will take you to hell, what to speak of trying to make any genuine spiritual advancement. But anyone who is spiritually experienced and knowledgeable knows that you cannot go to heaven by faith alone. It just does not work that way. The only way you can go to a higher dimension is by changing your consciousness to a higher level of perception and activity, and doing it right here in this life. And I found few genuine spiritual paths that provided the means or the processes by which you could do that.

Thus, I had to continue looking for the answers I needed for a higher understanding and for things to make sense to me, including the purpose of life. But fear-based religions, those that promise hell and punishment if not followed, were not for me. I did not want the fear of going to hell as the main motivation for accepting a particular spiritual path, or a dogma that everyone was supposed to accept in order to go to heaven, or to maintain an approved connection with an institution or church to keep from being excommunicated and, thus, going to eternal damnation. This did not seem logical to me. I wanted a path that could give me a natural and progressive way to attain a clear perception of the spiritual dimension, not dogma or fear-based indoctrination or blind faith.

In all my research, I finally read the Bhagavad-gita, which was like the final piece of the puzzle that I had been putting together from all of my philosophical and spiritual investigation. I could see that all of the spiritual paths were connected. Through the knowledge they offer, they can bring a person to different levels of consciousness, some higher and some lower. But the Bhagavad-gita gave me exactly what I needed, which was a big boost in spiritual understanding, and I knew I needed more. So, I went on to read the Upanishads, Vedanta Sutras, Yoga Sutras, and other texts including the Puranas. These all gave me profound insights into the purpose of life, and, finally, let me know that this world is not my real home anyway. It is not like I have to find a permanent place here, or an occupation that has to last forever, like I was being taught in school at the time, and which was expected of me by my parents. I was a spiritual being and only a passing tourist on this planet as I moved forward, preparing for higher realms.

As I studied the Eastern texts, it became clear that we all have a connection with God regardless of what our religion is, or whether we have a connection with a religious institution or church. All we have to do is reawaken that relationship. And the Vedic system gives you many tools to choose from to help you do that, such as gurus and teachers, sacred texts, temples for worship and learning, systems of yoga, and processes of development. Nothing is forced on you.

In the Vedic process, you choose your own speed at which you advance, your own methods that work best for you, the level of understanding and the spiritual texts you want to use. You decide whatever lessons you need to learn in order to proceed. And whatever advancement you make is never lost.

It’s not a question of having a dogma forced on you. It is a matter of proceeding at the rate that works best for you so that your spiritual progress unfolds naturally, not artificially or superficially. The Vedic system expects you to have your own spiritual awakenings and experiences when you are ready for them or developed enough.

I did not want to merely read about the spiritual dimension, and what it must be like. I wanted to see it. I did not want to merely read about the Supreme Being, which is more than you can get in most Western religions anyway. Most of them have no idea about His appearance, characteristics, how He acts, jokes with His devotees, or displays His pastimes and love towards them. But I wanted direct evidence and realizations, a connection to fill my soul, and to complete my purpose in life. I did not get that from anything else, whether it was material pursuits or Western religions. They all remained too shallow for me. I must admit that even parts of Hinduism were more like intellectual exercises or pursuits until I came to the teachings of Lord Krishna, especially in Bhagavad-gita and then in the Bhagavata Purana. These provided deep teachings that awakened a higher awareness of life and the spiritual nature of us all.

I also did not try to learn this spiritual knowledge through an academic pursuit. Most academics have never experienced whatever spiritual culture they teach anyway, or may even teach outright wrong information about it. Armchair philosophers often lack the necessary direct insight and awareness to qualify for teaching others. It is known amongst all Eastern mystics that anyone, regardless of qualifications, academic or otherwise, who does not engage in the spiritual practices described in the Vedic texts, cannot actually enter into understanding the depths of the Vedic spiritual science, nor acquire the realizations that should accompany it. So, rather than pursuing my research in an academic atmosphere at a university, I directly engaged in the spiritual disciplines that have been recommended for hundreds of years. Thus, in time, I studied the Vedic knowledge and spiritual practice under the guidance of a spiritual master.

After several years of serious independent study, I earnestly took to the Dharmic process of yoga and became a steady follower of it. This was because it gives a person the means or the system to spiritualize one’s consciousness, and, thus, actually begin to have insights into perceiving the spiritual dimension. It does not merely prescribe faith that such a thing exists, but it gives you the descriptions of it and the process by which you can have your own spiritual experiences. The point is that the more spiritual you become, the more you can perceive that which is spiritual. This is the key. Thus, the spiritual dimension no longer remains a mystery, or merely something you study or learn about, but it becomes a reality, something to experience. And that makes all the difference. Thus, I imbibed the teachings within the Vedic texts and that of Lord Krishna and took up the path of yoga, especially bhakti-yoga or devotional yoga and became a Krishna bhakta. Thereafter, I lived in an ashram to practice, study, and be trained in the Vedic teachings and learn the way of regulated spiritual life, sadhana, along with temple rituals, puja, and so forth until I became initiated into the Brahma-Gaudiya sampradaya under the auspices of Srila A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, and was given the name of Sri Nandanandana dasa. Several months later I was brahminically initiated as well.

One of the reasons why I became a Krishna bhakta is that He is the God of unconditional love, which is something that everyone is looking for, and He also instructed in the Bhagavad-gita to stand up and protect Sanatana-dharma for the benefit of others. At the battle of Kuruksetra, Arjuna wanted to leave the battlefield and go to the forest and meditate, but Lord Krishna said no. It was best to do one’s duty and stand up to protect Dharma, not only for oneself but for all others as well. By working for the benefit of others in such a way, one simultaneously helps oneself. You get a little of the credit, or punya, for whatever advancement others make because of your endeavors. And now this is one of my main activities, not only pursuing my own practice of Sanatana-dharma, but helping to preserve, protect, and promote or explain Vedic culture so others can understand, utilize and benefit from it.

If we look at the library of Vedic texts like the Bhagavad-gita, Upanishads, Mahabharata, or Vishnu Purana, or especially the Bhagavata Purana, they all explain various aspects of the nature of God, what our spiritual identity is, what is this universe, where we came from and where we are going based on whatever our actions are, and what are the pastimes, characteristics, attributes, and nature of the Supreme Being. How else are we supposed to learn this knowledge, and where else can it be found in such a complete fashion? I have studied all of the world religions and no other texts or scripture offers such a depth of spiritual information. That is why I have concluded that the Vedic philosophy is the last bastion of deep spiritual truth and knowledge. Nothing offers what it does. Vedic culture, essentially, takes up where the Western religions leave off.

That is why I never went back to the Western religions, though I may respect all paths and still study portions of them for comparative reasons. But what is the point of going back to something less profound, less expansive, less spiritual, less dynamic than what we have in the Dharmic tradition and philosophy as found in India? To do so makes no sense. Though raised in the West with its Christian beliefs and its modern facilities, many of us Westerners look toward the East, especially India, for our inspiration and spirituality. We are rejecting some of the very aspects of the Western religions that some of the present day Indians are accepting when they convert to them. This means that possibly they have not looked into them as deeply as we have, at least when it comes to seeking the deeper aspects of spiritual knowledge, beyond moral principles. They also may not be looking at the bloody history they have left in their trails through the past. Horrible crimes against humanity have been committed in the name of these religions, mostly in order to control such people and make them convert, not by their spiritual purity, but by political force whether they wanted to or not.

In this way, Vedic culture, Sanatana-dharma, by giving me this spiritual knowledge, saved my life, more than music did. It gave me the insights I needed to understand the purpose of life, what I was doing here, where I came from, where I’m going based on my actions in this life, and how to acquire the highest levels of spiritual perception. It gave me the means to keep going in this world. For me, without those things, my life remained incomplete and void of real meaning. It meant that I had little purpose to continue living. Why bother with something that made little sense to me? And materialistic life was just that, something that made no sense.

However, anyone who grasps the big picture of things, meaning to understand that our existence spans many lifetimes, will know that this is not my first life as a follower of Sanatana-dharma. I was obviously an Indian devotee in India in a previous life. I’m only taking up where I left off from before. And I will continue to follow Sanatana-dharma, as well as work to preserve, protect, and promote it for the benefit of others until the day I die. And I invite others to join me on this great path.

The thing is that I was not born into Vedic culture in this life. I did not learn about it because my parents or grandparents followed it, like most Indians do. I was born in a small Midwestern town in America where there was no hint of any Vedic tradition. So, I had to search for it and fight to attain it. That is why I do not take it for granted at all. And no one is going to take it away from me now that I’ve found it.

I know what my life was like when I did not have it, and it has made such a difference in my life compared to when all I had was the elementary form of religion that I started with. I learned the benefits of the Dharmic path and how it can relate to my life, and the many improvements of understanding it has given me.

So, as a typical American, when we find something good, positive, and advantageous, we want to share it with others. Our enthusiasm makes us want others to take a look at it and see what they think because they might like it as well. And I’ve seen what it has done for others with its deep spiritual knowledge, peace, insights into our purpose in life, and how to increase our own spiritual perception, over and above mere faith and hope. This is why I have gone on to write various books on the many aspects of Vedic culture, so others can learn about it, use it in their life, and benefit from it. I especially try to write in a way to make the lofty and sophisticated Vedic philosophy understandable for the regular layman. But amazingly, even though I started out writing for Westerners, many Indian Hindus have also appreciated what I do and have expressed how they have gathered much from my own learning, research, realizations, and experiences about which I have written. This enthuses me to continue the work I do to help preserve, protect, and promote the Vedic knowledge and its traditions. Its timeless wisdom and spiritual knowledge still serves an important purpose.

However, as things stand today, we may think that the battle of Kuruksetra was just a story in the Mahabharata, a scene for the Bhagavad-gita in which Lord Krishna told Arjuna that it was foolish for him to want to go off to the forest to meditate when his duty was to stand and fight. But fight for what? To fight for Sanatana-dharma and our freedom to pursue the spiritual Dharmic path. Thus, we should all follow in the footsteps of Arjuna in this way, under the direction of Lord Krishna to do our parts to take a stand to help protect Vedic culture. In this way, I have worked with a wide number of organizations, both within India and outside, and numerous individuals who have similar ideas for doing this.

It is not our time to be timid about standing up for our rights to follow the Dharma. It is not time to be afraid to come together and work to preserve our culture from those forces, whether they be different religions, non-Hindu politicians, Marxists, or secularists who still wish to destroy it or see its demise. We should be on the forefront to work with each other to maintain our spiritual traditions. We should be on the forefront to create a spiritual revolution in India through the promotion of Vedic spiritual knowledge, and allowing all other interested people to participate in it without restriction. If we can do this, we could change India in 18 days, which was the same length of time as the Battle of Kuruksetra. Vedic culture is, as I call it, the last bastion of deep spiritual truth. We must all do our part to preserve and protect it, and make sure that India remains the homeland of a dynamic and thriving Vedic tradition.

Why am I so enthused and determined about this? It is because my life has been so much blessed because of it. I cannot imagine what my life would have been without it. I love this Vedic culture. I love India. I love Sanatana-dharma, and I think everyone should take a serious look at it.

Bharata Mata ki jaya! Jai Hind! Sanatana-dharma ki jaya! Hari Om, and Jai Sri Krishna!

Other reasons why a person should seriously take a look at Vedic culture can be found in my E-book “Why Be a Hindu: The Advantages of the Vedic Path,” on my website at: www.stephen- knapp.com.

A Leader Should Know How to Manage Failure

2009-08-04T00:16:00.000-07:00

(Former President of India APJ Abdul Kalam at Wharton India Economic forum, Philadelphia , March 22, 2008)

Question: Could you give an example, from your own experience, of how leaders should manage failure?

Kalam: Let me tell you about my experience. In 1973 I became the project director of India 's satellite launch vehicle program, commonly called the SLV-3. Our goal was to put India 's 'Rohini' satellite into orbit by 1980. I was given funds and human resources -- but was told clearly that by 1980 we had to launch the satellite into space. Thousands of people worked together in scientific and technical teams towards that goal.

By 1979 -- I think the month was August -- we thought we were ready. As the project director, I went to the control center for the launch. At four minutes before the satellite launch, the computer began to go through the checklist of items that needed to be checked. One minute later, the computer program put the launch on hold; the display showed that some control components were not in order. My experts -- I had four or five of them with me -- told me not to worry; they had done their calculations and there was enough reserve fuel. So I bypassed the computer, switched to manual mode, and launched the rocket. In the first stage, everything worked fine. In the second stage, a problem developed. Instead of the satellite going into orbit, the whole rocket system plunged into the Bay of Bengal . It was a big failure.

That day, the chairman of the Indian Space Research Organization, Prof. Satish D hawan, had called a press conference. The launch was at 7:00 am, and the press conference -- where journalists from around the world were present -- was at 7:45 am at ISRO's satellite launch range in Sriharikota [in Andhra Pradesh in southern India ]. Prof. Dhawan, the leader of the organization, conducted the press conference himself. He took responsibility for the failure -- he said that the team had worked very hard, but that it needed more technological support. He assured the media that in another year, the team would definitely succeed. Now, I was the project director, and it was my failure, but instead, he took responsibility for the failure as chairman of the organization.

The next year, in July 1980, we tried again to launch the satellite -- and this time we succeeded. The whole nation was jubilant. Again, there was a press conference. Prof. Dhawan called me aside and told me, 'You conduct the press conference today.'

I learned a very important lesson that day. When failure occurred, the leader of the organization owned that failure. When success came, he gave it to his team. The best management lesson I have learned did not come to me from reading a book; it came from that experience

Great Entertainer Left Religion Unanswered

2009-07-08T19:16:00.000-07:00

JakartaGlobe

July 06, 2009

Anand Krishna

People adored him, worshiped him, but also despised him. Michael Jackson, born a star, was an enigma in life and remains an enigma in death.

A day after the star’s death, a religious group in Jakarta displayed a banner, called him “brother” and bade him goodbye. Interesting. Similar groups in the past would often criticize him for his “vulgar performances” and “indecent concerts.”

These are the same people who laughed at Wacko Jacko when he was charged with child sexual abuse in 1993. Though he pleaded not guilty and even endured a humiliating 25-minute strip search to prove his innocence, we turned a deaf ear to him.

The charges against him were never proved, but we, including the media, were too quick to pass our verdict. The poor man had to pay millions in an out-of-court settlement. At the time, even his elder sister accused him of being a pedophile. Now, after his death, his accuser says the allegations were lies.

In 2005, Michael Jackson was once again tried and acquitted of sexual abuse allegations and several other charges. We read the news, passed our verdict and forgot all about it.

We wasted him in life. Now that he is dead, we are fighting over his dead body. I posted a Facebook message saying that I did not care whether Jackson was a Christian, a Muslim or a Jehovah’s Witness, and that he was born a human and died a little more human. In response, a journalist commented that the “fact is that he is a Muslim. No matter what they do to his body, he is a Muslim.”

Mr. Jackson, what was your religion?

Michael Paulson, who reports on religion for The Boston Globe, tried to answer this question on his blog and ended up admitting that his head started to spin. “He was a Jehovah’s Witness. A Muslim. He accepted Jesus before he died. The Vatican loved him, but was that right? There’s even a Jewish angle of sorts.”

As we all know, Jackson was raised a Jehovah’s Witness. His brother Jermaine is a Muslim, and while Jackson was alive there were some reports that, he, too, had converted to Islam. The Jewish Telegraphic Agency, meanwhile, offered a story on Jackson’s rather complex ties with Judaism: “He was friends with a rabbi, he flirted with kabbalah (who didn’t?) and it’s possible that at least two of his children are technically Jewish because Jackson’s ex-wife Debbie Rowe, believed to be the biological mother of the children, is Jewish.”

What is more interesting is a generous appreciation of Jackson’s legacy published by the Vatican’s L’Osservatore Romano, in response to which Tom Heneghan of Reuters had this to say: “It’s not every day that the Vatican newspaper suggests that a man accused of pedophilia and said to have converted to Islam might be immortal. But that’s what L’Osservatore Romano did today.”

Not all Christians share this sentiment, however. There are people who consider Jackson’s life a spiritual wreck. Here is a man who cried with Mother Earth, dreamed of change by becoming the change, tried to heal the world and proclaimed the unity of all humankind. He might or might not have followed a particular brand of religion, but spirituality is without brand. It is generic, just like love, peace and harmony. Jackson was a man of peace. He loved and he dreamed of a harmonious coexistence. Does it matter if he followed any religion or not?

Hindus in Britain mourn his death. They recall his 1999 visit to a temple in Northwest London where he “took off his shoes before entering the temple like all other devotees.” The Times of India reported that he considered India his “special love,” was planning a collaboration with double Oscar-winning Indian musician AR Rahman and was reading Rabindranath Tagore’s poetry during his last days.

The Indians also remember him for his concert there in 1996. Before leaving Mumbai, he left a moving message to his fans on his pillow cover: “India, all my life I have longed to see your face. I met you and your people and fell in love with you. Now my heart is filled with sorrow and despair for I have to leave, but I promise I shall return to love you and caress you again.

“Your kindness has overwhelmed me, your spiritual awareness has moved me, and your children have truly touched my heart. They are the face of God. I truly love and adore you, India. Forever, continue to love, heal and educate the children, the future shines on them. You are my special love, India. Forever, may God always bless you.”

For those Indians who believe in reincarnation, it is almost certain that Jackson will be reborn there. Someone writes to me from India, “You see he promised to return. In no time he shall be reborn here. No doubts whatsoever.”

Good business for astrologers and diviners in India. I am sure within a year or so several parents will claim their child to be the reincarnation of Michael Jackson. I can envision many such claimants and a mushrooming number of Michael Jacksons there.

As an Indian Muslim, Hindu or Christian?

It did not matter to my Indian friend, as long as he was born an Indian.

All his life Jackson sang songs of oneness, unity, and the need to live outside man-made boxes. We enjoyed his songs, but did not always understand them.

There are people fighting over the Jackson’s religion in the wake of his death. Given an opportunity, they would fight for the possession of his body in order to bury it following the appropriate religious rites.

As in life, in death Michael Jackson remains misunderstood. But he lived his life on his own terms. He sang the song that he came to sing and left us singing. There are not too many people daring to live as dangerously as he did.

Anand Krishna is a spiritual activist and author. He can be reached at www.aumkar.org and www.anandkrishna.org.

The Red Phone

2009-06-29T21:00:00.000-07:00

There was a simple and little Hindu priest who lived in Mathura. Once he had the chance to go visit the Pope at the Vatican in Italy. After traveling to the Vatican, he walked up the steps and through the halls of the opulent building where the Pope stayed. He looked in awe at the beautiful marble floors and majestic columns. Then he came into the Pope's office and he greeted the Pope who was seated behind his desk. The little Hindu priest sat nearby and they exchanged pleasantries. Then the Hindu priest noticed a red phone sitting at the end of the desk. So the Hindu priest asked what it was.

"Oh, that's my hotline to God," replied the Pope. "Whenever things get too difficult and I need to have a personal talk with God, I give Him a call."

"Oh," said the priest. "Would you mind if I tried it?"

"No, not at all," the Pope responded.

So the little Hindu priest picked up the phone, dialed the number, and sure enough, he got through to God. So he offered his respects and prayers, said he was very happy to talk to Him, and then hung up the phone after only five minutes. He was a simple priest and did not have much more to say to God. He then thanked the Pope for the privilege of using the special red phone.

The Pope replied, "Oh that is quite all right. By the way, that will be $75."

"Seventy-five dollars?" inquired the Hindu priest.

"Oh yes," said the Pope. "You know, long distance charges. It's a long way from here to God, you know."

So the priest pulled out his wallet and gave the pope the seventy-five dollars.

Several months later, the Pope had the opportunity to visit India, and it was arranged for him to come to Mathura and visit the little Hindu priest. So the Pope approached the little hut of the Hindu priest, ducking his head as he walked through the door. He sat in a chair in front of the little table where the Hindu priest was pleased to again meet the Pope. They exchanged greetings when the Pope noticed the same kind of red phone on the priest's table as he had at the Vatican. So the Pope asked what that was.

"Why, I also have a hotline to God," replied the Hindu priest.

"Do you mind if I use it?" asked the Pope. "I really have a lot on my mind."

"Please do," responded the priest.

So the Pope got on the phone and got a good connection and managed to get through to God. He offered his prayers, but then had many things to discuss. He talked about the trouble in the Vatican, the difficulties with the priests and legal charges in the United States, the changing attitudes of the congregation in England and Europe, and so on. Fifteen minutes went by, then a half-hour, then finally after nearly an hour he was able to put the phone down. Then he said,

"Thank you very much. I feel a lot better now. I had so much to talk about. By the way, how much will that be?"

The Hindu priest thought a moment and then said, "Two rupees."

"What," the Pope replied, surprised at how inexpensive it was. "Why so cheap?"

"Why don't you know?" asked the little Hindu priest. "Here it is a local call."

Crimes Against India by Stephen Knapp, Reviewed by David Frawley

2009-06-11T18:31:00.000-07:00

Hinduism remains the most attacked and under siege of all the major world religions. This is in spite of the fact that Hinduism is the most tolerant, pluralistic and synthetic of the world's major religions. Hindu gurus have more than any other religious teachers in the world tried to find an underlying unity of religion to create peace in humanity. Yet though Hindu gurus have called for respect for all religions, leaders of other religions have not responded in kind by offering any respect for Hinduism. Instead they have continued to promote their missionary agendas and plan the conversion of India to their beliefs.

Why is Hinduism still so much a target of missionaries and the media? It is really very simple. Hinduism is the largest of the non-conversion, non-proselytizing religions and so offers the greatest possibilities for conversion. It is the vulnerability of Hinduism that makes it a target, not the fact that Hindus are trying to convert or conquer the world for some hostile belief.

After Christianity and Islam, Hinduism is the world's largest religion and the largest of the non-Biblical traditions. India, where most Hindus reside, has the most open laws allowing in foreign religious groups. While missionaries are virtually banned in China and in Islamic countries, in India they are often tolerated, respected and given a wide scope of activity. Since Christianity is in decline, particularly in Europe, it has a need to find new converts for which India is one of main potential locations, particularly as a comparatively high percentage of Hindu converts are willing to become priests and nuns. Pope John Paul II in a trip to India some ten years ago spoke directly of looking for a "rich harvest of souls in the third millennium in Asia", specifically India.

Yet most Hindus and groups sympathetic to them are not aware of this "siege on Hinduism" that continues unrelenting as part of the multi-national missionary business. In this context, the book of Stephen Knapp, Crimes Against India: and the Need to Protect its Ancient Vedic Tradition, is very timely, well written and well documented. The siege on Hinduism has been going on since the first Islamic armies and Christian missionaries entered India as he clearly delineates and has continued in various forms, violent, subversive or even charitably based.

While people know the history of the genocide of the Jews by the Nazis, the greater and longer genocide of Hindus by Islamic invaders is hardly noticed. Even the genocide in the Bangladesh War of 1971, in which most of the several million killed were Hindus, is not acknowledged as a religious genocide. While people know the history of the Inquisition and the burning of witches in Europe and the genocide of Native Americans by Christian invaders, they don't realize that India has a similar history in parts of the country like Goa. Knapp fills in these gaps and makes these connections.

More importantly, people don't realize that questionable conversion tactics are still being used in India today, where in the South, the rate offered for conversion is around twenty thousand rupies, going up and down with the economy! They also don't realize that it is now American Evangelicals of the Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson line -- the religious right that brought George Bush to power -- that is spearheading conversion activity and church building in South India, pouring billions into the country.

Yet Knapp's book is not just written to make us aware of this assault on Hinduism and its many dangers. He also provides a way forward, showing how Hindu Dharma can be revived, better taught, better communicated and more widely shared with the global audience, which is becoming progressively more receptive to Hindu teachings of Yoga, Vedanta and respect for nature. He documents the Hindu renaissance and the modern Hindu movement, which though small is growing rapidly as a Hindu response to this denigration of its venerable traditions. He shows that Hindus are not responding in terms of becoming another intolerant, exclusivist missionary cult. They are organizing themselves in terms of teaching, service and spiritual practices.

The book is well worth reading and will show any open minded person the Hindu side of a millennial debate on religion that has so far largely excluded the Hindu point of view. That Knapp is a western born Hindu adds to his credibility and conviction. He is not simply defending a tradition handed down by his family or his culture, but one that he has embraced from deep spiritual conviction and profound inner experience.

One hopes that readers in India will listen to his voice and that those outside of the country will recognize the Hindu plight along with the other forms of oppression going on in the world. Religious minorities at a global level are still under the assault of religious majorities, which have long been armed with petrodollars, high technology and control of the media. Yet as the book demonstrates, the tide is beginning to turn.

Crimes Against India: and The Need to Protect its Ancient Vedic Traditions

Available from iUniverse.com: http://www.iunivers e.com/Bookstore/ BookDetail. aspx?BookId= SKU-000115147.

Or Amazon.com: http://www.amazon. com/Crimes- Against-India- Tradition- Hinduism/ dp/1440111588/ ref=sr_1_ 2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1232214548&sr=1-2

The Women of Swat and ‘Mullah Radio’

2009-06-04T18:44:00.000-07:00

By a group of NWFP women (may God protect them from the satanic mullahs)

“Islam started as soon as we fled from Malakand. People outside Swat think we had Islam and Shariat. There is no Islam in Swat. The Taliban have finished it.”
-woman from Mingawera, Swat, in a Sawabai camp

Where does one begin to tell you what they have been saying? It is difficult to explain because it is difficult for some of us to believe, to understand, and at times, even to empathise with. Between their rage and their tears, between giving each other solace and laughing at lighter moments, they opened up to talk to us. They shall not be named but they shall be heard by all of us today.

We write here some of the stories the women of Swat told us. They come from Kabbal, Mingawera (Mingora), Qambar, Kanju and other parts of Swat. Some are from Buner and Maidan in Lower Dir. Their lives were affected in many more ways than the lives of their men. Although they belong to a perceived conservative and retrogressive culture, which the Pukhtun male has always guarded very carefully, these women have lived through many months of a terror which has kept them even more house bound. This style of social control has challenged every aspect of their Pukhtun way of life in ways that they could not imagine. And yet their ignorance has played a big part in the tragedy of Swat-- an ignorance and naivety which made many of them the captive audience of Fazlullah, or, as they call him, ‘Mullah Radio’.

When we entered the large tent a few women looked up and smiled. Some got up and put out their hands to greet us. They seemed surprised that we could converse in the same language. ‘Sit down. We can’t even offer you tea’ said one laughing ‘look at us and what we have been reduced to.’ We quite candidly said that they were OUR guests and would rather welcome them. Their children were lying on the floor, red because of the heat, tired and listless in the hot air of the fans. The women had been sitting in silence before we went in. We could hear no noise from the tent which was full of about forty women and children. What could they share with each other? Each story was the same as the other. It was a pall of misery and silences that hung over their heads. These women were lucky; they had a common place to come to, out of their tents. In most camps, the women sit in the heat of the tents, not being allowed to go out. They wait for their men to come before they can use the toilets. Their children defecate outside the tents as they cannot take them to the toilets. In some schools, they feed their children first and, at times, do not eat.

One by one they spoke their ordeal, their flight from the bombing, the endless days of walking with children and the elderly and the dead they had left behind. Soon each one wanted to tell her story. They sat closer and closer to us, listening to the others and telling us about themselves. Most of them had fled from Mingawera and other places in Swat--walking for days, avoiding the curfew by moving off the roads and taking to the mountains to walk, walking day and night; hiding their sons in trucks for fear that the Talibs would take them away to fight. One woman had walked for nine days with three children under ten. We cannot recall the number of women who told us about how their homes were shelled and how they had buried their dead without bathing them, in hurriedly dug graves. One had lost her baby on the way down, had dug a ditch beside the road, torn off part of her chadar, wrapped her child in it and buried her in the ditch. She walked on, to save what was left, her own life. Another spoke of how in the madness of the bombing, she had asked her husband to pick up her baby from the bed. When they were out of the village, the husband realized he had picked up the pillow and left the six month old child behind. They still kept walking.

Another woman spoke of how they were eating peacefully when a mortar had hit her house. The word ‘mortar’ was a regular part of their conversation. ‘Matr’ and ‘karpee’ which we finally realised was ‘curfew.’ Another told us how her neighbours’ home was shelled. Four men had died on the spot. People had run helter-skelter. The helicopter passed and the men ran and started digging graves to bury the dead before fleeing the village. They told the women to collect what they could and the women started to round up their children. As the men dug, the helicopter returned to shell. The men left the bodies and ran for cover. The helicopter fired again and flew past. The men returned and dug what they could and dumped the bodies into the graves. She continued to talk, calmly. ‘These were not graves, these were ditches. We threw them into these ditches and we ran’.

Another woman in a school camp spoke of how her family had left food in their plates and hot tea in their cups when the shelling began. She was brave and then her brown eyes filled with tears and she said ‘my young son, he was in class ten, was hit on the back of his head and he died. I lost my young son’ and then her tears flowed. The others sat looking at her, thinking of their own miseries. We sat in silence, nobody consoling, and nobody talking. ‘At least they should have told us, why did they not tell us they were going to bomb?’ She wiped her eyes hurriedly and continued to talk. ‘They are beasts these Taliban. They are not human. May God finish them all like they have finished us.’ We were surprised, surprised that her anger turned to the Taliban when her son was killed by military shelling. She was a strong woman and continued to talk with a vengeance. ‘May God punish these animals for what they have done to us. I hope the army finishes every last one of them.’

From one place to another, from one tent and school to another, we heard them tell us how they were unable to leave their homes for fear of being beaten or killed or flogged, how their men had been dragged out of their homes and slaughtered. One of the men said he lived on the chowk where the Taliban slaughtered people. He told us how they walked into homes and led out their victims in silence. He told us of the sounds he heard when these men were slaughtered, like cattle, on the chowk. He continued to talk “This is the terror they spread, that a father could not save his son and a brother could not save his brother, and that they used to stand in silence and watch their sons being led away. I was so outraged once that I started running out to stop them. My wife had to drag me back into the house, telling me that I would only meet the same fate.”

Each woman talked of the slaughter of men, whether they had been through it or whether they had heard it – it had terrorised them into silence and acquiescence. They also spoke of how ‘disgraced’ they felt as they fled with only a dupatta on. One of them laughed and said “Burqah, burqah, which is all we heard in Swat but when we ran we were hardly covered and the whole world was looking at us.” The men did not think this was funny. The humiliation they felt at this had outraged them--the humiliation at their women being in these camps, being seen by other men, the humiliation of standing in line for food. Perhaps that is why there were so many children standing in line for food at the camps.

But these are stories commonly heard until we heard them tell us unspeakable horrors. In one of the schools, a group of women led us to meet their friend. She could not speak because she could not stop crying. They kept saying ‘Show them; show them what they did to you.’ She was a widow and the Taliban had taken her 12 year old son away to join them. The women said that they used to come to all their homes and ask for their sons. They were too scared to resist. Some boys were taken by force, others went themselves, and others simply disappeared from madrassahs. The widow had gone and taken her son back from the madrassah. They had come into her house, taken all her jewelry and cut of all her hair. She cried for her own humiliation and did not speak a word. Women from Buner spoke of how the Taliban had no respect for the Pukhtun way of life, for Islam or for women. How they would enter any house they wanted, whether to take away their sons or to take refuge. They spoke of incidents of the younger women being raped, after which their breasts were cut off. They told us how their men were beheaded and hung from electricity poles with their chopped off heads placed between their legs. They would leave notes on these bodies for no one to touch.

So why did they let this happen? Why could they not get together to stop it? We repeatedly asked them this. Who ARE these people? This is when the admittance came. They were honest, honest about the power of Mullah Radio and his constituency of women listeners.

“There was peace in Swat. Shut in their homes many women listened to ‘Raidu Mullah.’ He addressed them directly. “He used to talk about Islam, about praying five times a day, about going to the madrassah and learning the Quran. We all thought he was a good man.” He told the women about their duties under Islam, about cleanliness. Some of them embarrassingly told us about how he told them to wash their private parts.

“Radio Mullah ke haramtobe wo” (Mullah Radio spelled trouble for us) said one woman. “I never allowed my daughters and daughters-in-law to listen to him and used to switch the radio off. I just did not trust him.” As his popularity grew, women would line up outside his madrassah and donate. They donated whatever little jewelry they had. Even the poorest women would donate her nose-pins. Some of them said that Fazlullah gave the jewelry to his wife as they saw her wearing a donated necklace.

This captive, gullible audience, shut in their homes became the main source of Mullah Radio’s power and support. They encouraged their sons to join his madrassah. They provided the Taliban with a ready following. They provided them their sons which they soon realised were fodder, fodder for suicide bombings and ‘jihad.’ It was only when they realised and resisted this that the Taliban turned on their own people. “They would knock at our doors, and would say, ‘give us your sons in the name of Islam’. Thos who resisted were slaughtered.” They wanted the little boys and the young men, so little that the guns they carried were at times longer than their legs--so little that the innocent brains in their little heads were filled with nonsense about so-called Islam. But it was all too late and nobody was willing to listen. “The Taliban did nothing until the foreigners came--the men from Waziristan and Afghanistan. They were the ones who started training the local Taliban”. Many said their families approached the army and the government for help. But nobody listened. A few said that anyone who informed the army did not live long. They kept quiet. Even today parts of their areas where the Taliban have fled to are not known to the army. They will not speak.

Suddenly in a fit of rage one of them started shouting “What has happened today when for two years we have been screaming for help and the military and the Taliban have been sitting with each other chatting, when their check posts were barely a few feet away from each other. What was that all about that today it had to come to this that our army has suddenly decided to bomb its own people? Where were this army and this government when our people have been relating these incidents to them for almost two years?” This is only a question to be answered by those responsible for what is happening to our people today.

So what was the Nizaam e Adal, what did this mean for the women? They spoke of the flogging of that poor girl; they said Nizaam e Adal may have meant no war but that they could not leave their homes for fear that the Taliban may object to what they were wearing and beat them in public or kill their husbands. As one of them said “I stopped going to my relatives’ homes, for funerals and weddings. We were prisoners in our own homes as we could not move out without our men.” But there was no trust left in government, police or military. A government which had signed this deal with the Taliban.

“We have been fooled. We have been fooled by the Taliban, the Army and the government. We knew two years ago that this was not Islam but nobody would help us. Why did the army not do something two years when the Taliban were fewer in number and that when they could be controlled? When they knew exactly where they were. What is the reason for their friendship with these animals? Where were this army and this government when we were screaming for help and going to them?” We heard this repeatedly and endlessly. “We will only believe the army when it catches those three leaders. Where are those leaders? Once they are caught this will all finish. We will believe it once those three men are caught.”

How unfortunate it all is. How unfortunate that a culture deliberately keeps its women ignorant, a ready fodder for a madman and that these people had nowhere to turn to even when they wanted to save themselves and save our own country. What answer can one give to these poor, helpless women? Who is going to be held accountable for the violence they have suffered. It is quite clear that we have never really cared about them, that we did not bother to educate them because our leaders were busy squandering our money on foreign trips and properties and their own men were too busy thinking about their own control over women. They know today that nobody will ever protect them unless they see the glint of the dollar on the unfortunate horizon of Pakistan. Their questions can only be answered by those who know what they have done. And if they do not answer them in this world, they will for sure answer them in the next.

Read Each One Carefully and Think About It a Second or Two ...

2009-03-23T02:02:00.000-07:00

1. I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am with you.

2. No man or woman is worth your tears, and the one who is, won't make you cry.

3. Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.

4. A true friend is someone who reaches for your hand and touches your heart.

5. The worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them knowing you can't have them.

6. Never frown, even when you are sad, because you never know who is falling in love with your smile.

7. To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.

8. Don't waste your time on a man/woman, who isn't willing to waste their time on you.

9. Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one, so that when we finally meet the person, we will know how to be grateful.

10.. Don't cry because it is over, smile because it happened.

11. Make yourself a better person and know who you are before you try and know someone else and expect them to know you.

12. Don't try so hard, the best things come when you least expect them to.

Mumbai Old Man

2009-02-20T20:21:00.000-08:00

An elderly man in Mumbai calls his son in New York and says,

'I hate to ruin your day son, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are getting a divorce. 35 years of marriage... and that much misery is enough!'

'Dad, what are you talking about?' the son screams.

'We can't stand the sight of each other any longer,' the old man says.

'We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Hong Kong and tell her!'

Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone.

'Like heck they're getting divorced,' she shouts, 'I'll take care of this.'

She calls Mumbai immediately, and screams at the old man, 'You are not getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR??' and she hangs up.

The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. 'Okay', he says, 'It's all set. They're both coming for Diwali and paying their own airfare!!'

MORAL:

No man / woman is busy in this world all 365 days.

The sky is not going to fall down if you take few days LEAVE and meet your dear ones.

OFFICE WORK IS NOT EVERYTHING IN LIFE and MONEY MAKING IS NOT EVERYTHING IN LIFE.

Happy moments, praise God.

Difficult moments, seek God.

Quiet moments, worship God.

Painful moments, trust God.

Every moment, thank God.

AMEN! AMEN! AMEN!

Tomato Story

2009-02-18T23:17:00.000-08:00

A Jobless man applied for the position of 'office boy' at Microsoft. The HR manager interviewed him then watched him cleaning the floor as a test.

'You are employed' he said. Give me your e-mail address and I'll send you the application to fill in, as well as date when you may start.

The man replied 'But I don't have a computer, neither an email'.

'I'm sorry', said the HR manager. If you don't have an email, that means you do not exist. And who doesn't exist, cannot have the job.'

The man left with no hope at all. He didn't know what to do, with only $10 in his pocket. He then decided to go to the supermarket and buy a 10Kg tomato crate.

He then sold the tomatoes in a door to door round. In less than two hours, he succeeded to double his capital. He repeated the operation three times, and returned home with $60.

The man realized that he can survive by this way, and started to go everyday earlier, and return late. Thus, his money doubled or tripled everyday.

Shortly, he bought a cart, then a truck, and then he had his own fleet of delivery vehicles.

5 years later, the man is one of the biggest food retailers in the US ...
He started to plan his family's future, and decided to have a life insurance.

He called an insurance broker, and chose a protection plan. When the conversation was concluded the broker asked him his email.
The man replied,'I don't have an email.'
The broker answered curiously, 'You don't have an email, and yet have succeeded to build an empire. Can you imagine what you could have been if you had an e mail?!!'
The man thought for a while and replied, 'Yes, I'd be an office boy at Microsoft!'

Moral of the story

Moral 1
Internet is not the solution to your life.

Moral 2
If you don't have Internet, and work hard, you can be a millionaire.

Moral 3
If you received this message by email,
you are closer to being a office boy/girl,than a millionaire..........!!!

Coffee and Happiness

2009-02-05T00:43:00.000-08:00

"The happiest people in the world are not those who have no problems,but those who learn to live with things that are less than perfect."

A group of graduates, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor.
Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.
Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help themselves to the coffee.
When all the students had a cup of coffee, the professor said: "If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the simple and cheap ones.
While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.
Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee.
In most cases, it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink.
What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups... Then you began eyeing each other's cups.

Now consider this:

Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in society are the cups.
They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of Life we live.
Sometimes, by concentrating on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee

God has provided us. Enjoy your coffee!."

The happiest people don't have the best of everything.
They just make the best of everything."

1. Live simply.
2. Love generously.
3. Care deeply.
4. Speak kindly.
5. Leave the rest to God.

Share...

2009-01-28T01:58:00.000-08:00

If you're mad with someone and nobody's there to fix the situation... You fix it. Maybe today, that person still wants to be your friend. And if u doesn't, tomorrow can be too late.

If you're in love with somebody, but that person doesn't know...
tell her/him. Maybe today, that person is also in love with you. And if you don't say it, tomorrow can be too late.

If you still love a person that you think has forgotten you...
tell her/him. Maybe that person has always loved you. And if you don't tell her/him today, tomorrow can be too late.

If you need a hug of a friend... ask her/him for it.
Maybe they need it more than you do. And if you don't ask for it today, tomorrow can be too late.

If you really have friends who you appreciate... tell them. Maybe they appreciate you as well. That if you don't and they leave or go far away today, tomorrow can be too late.

If you love your parents, and never had the chance to show them... do it. Maybe you have them there to show them how you feel. That if you don't and they leave today, and then tomorrow can be too late.

Consider or Screwed!

2009-01-27T23:58:00.000-08:00

Johnny wanted to have s XX with a girl in his office, but she belonged to someone else...

One day, Johnny got so frustrated that he went up to her and said, "I'll give you a $100 if you let me screw you. But the girl said NO.

Johnny said, "I'll be fast. I'll throw the money on the floor, you bend down, and I'll be finished by the time you pick it up. "

She thought for a moment and said that she would have to consult her boyfriend... So she called her boyfriend and told him the story.

Her boyfriend says, "Ask him for $200, pick up the money very fast, he won't even be able to get his pants down."

So she agrees and accepts the proposal. Half an hour goes by, and the boyfriend is waiting for his girlfriend to call.

Finally, after 45 minutes, the boyfriend calls and asks what happened.

She responded, "The b @ stard used coins!"

Management lesson:

Always consider a business proposal in its entirety before agreeing to it and getting screwed!

"Self Appraisal"

2008-10-10T03:15:00.000-07:00

A little boy went into a drug store, reached for a soda carton and pulled it over to the telephone. He climbed onto the carton so that he could reach the buttons on the phone and proceeded to punch in seven digits (phone numbers). The store-owner observed and listened to the conversation:

Boy: "Lady, Can you give me the job of cutting your lawn?"

Woman: (at the other end of the phone line): "I already have someone to cut my lawn."

Boy: "Lady, I will cut your lawn for half the price of the person who cuts your lawn now."

Woman: "I'm very satisfied with the person who is presently cutting my lawn."

Boy: (with more perseverance) : "Lady, I'll even sweep your curb and your sidewalk, so on Sunday you will have the prettiest lawn in all of Palm beach, Florida."

Woman: "No, thank you."

With a smile on his face, the little boy replaced the receiver. The store-owner, who was listening to all this, walked over to the boy.

Store Owner: "Son... I like your attitude. I like that positive spirit and would like to offer you a job."

Boy: "No thanks"

Store Owner: "But you were really pleading for one."

Boy: "No Sir, I was just checking my performance at the job I already have. I am the one who is working for that lady I was talking to!"

This is what we call "Self Appraisal"

A Girl With an Apple (A Story from World War II)

2008-10-05T18:40:00.000-07:00

August 1942. Piotrkow, Poland. The sky was gloomy that morning as we waited anxiously. All the men, women and children of Piotrkow's Jewish ghetto had been herded into a square. Word had gotten around that we were being moved. My father had only recently died from typhus, which had run rampant through the crowded ghetto. My greatest fear was that our family would be separated.

'Whatever you do,' Isidore, my eldest brother, whispered to me, 'don't tell them your age.. Say you're sixteen.' I was tall for a boy of 11, so I could pull it off. That way I might be deemed valuable as a worker. An SS man approached me, boots clicking against the cobblestones. He looked me up and down, then asked my age. 'Sixteen,' I said. He directed me to the left, where my three brothers and other healthy young men already stood.

My mother was motioned to the right with the other women, children, sick and elderly people. I whispered to Isidore, 'Why?' He didn't answer. I ran to Mama's side and said I wanted to stay with her. 'No,' she said sternly. 'Get away. Don't be a nuisance. Go with your brothers.' She had never spoken so harshly before. But I understood: She was protecting me. She loved me so much that, just this once, she pretended not to. It was the last I ever saw of her.

My brothers and I were transported in a cattle car to Germany. We arrived at the Buchenwald concentration camp one night weeks later and were led into a crowded barrack. The next day, we were issued uniforms and identification numbers.
'Don't call me Herman anymore.' I said to my brothers. 'Call me 94983.'

I was put to work in the camp's crematorium, loading the dead into a hand-cranked elevator. I, too, felt dead. Hardened, I had become a number. Soon, my brothers and I were sent to Schlieben, one of Buchenwald's sub-camps near Berlin.

One morning I thought I heard my mother's voice, 'Son,' she said softly but clearly, I am going to send you an angel.' Then I woke up. Just a dream. A beautiful dream. But in this place there could be no angels. There was only work. And hunger. And fear..

A couple of days later, I was walking around the camp, around the barracks, near the barbed-wire fence where the guards could not easily see. I was alone. On the other side of the fence, I spotted someone: a litle girl with light, almost luminous curls. She was half-hidden behind a birch tree. I glanced around to make sure no one saw me. I called to her softly in German.
'Do you have something to eat?'

She didn't understand. I inched closer to the fence and repeated question in Polish. She stepped forward. I was thin and gaunt, with rags wrapped around my feet, but the girl looked unafraid. In her eyes, I saw life. She pulled an apple from her woolen jacket and threw it over the fence. I grabbed the fruit and, as I started to run away, I heard her say faintly,

'I'll see you tomorrow.'

I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day. She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread or, better yet, an apple. We didn't dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us both. I didn't know anything about her, just a kind farm girl, except that she understood Polish. What was her name? Why was she risking her life for me? Hope was in such short supply, and this girl on the other side of the fence gave me some, as nourishing in its way as the bread and apples.

Nearly seven months later, my brothers and I were crammed into a coal car and shipped to Theresienstadt camp inCzechoslovakia. 'Don't return,' I told the girl that day. 'We're leaving.' I turned toward the barracks and didn't look back, didn't even say good-bye to the little girl whose name I'd never learned, the girl with the apples.

We were in Theresienstadt for three months. The war was winding down and Allied forces were closing in, yet my fate seemed sealed. On May 10, 1945, I was scheduled to die in the gas chamber at 10:00 AM. In the quiet of dawn, I tried to prepare myself. So many times death seemed ready to claim me, but somehow I'd survived.. Now, it was over. I thought of my parents. At least, I thought, we will be reunited.

But at 8 A.M. There was a commotion. I heard shouts, and saw people running every which way through camp. I caught up with my brothers. Russian troops had liberated the camp! The gates swung open. Everyone was running, so I did too.

Amazingly, all of my brothers had survived; I'm not sure how. But I knew that the girl with the apples had been the key to my survival. In a place where evil seemed triumphant, one person's goodness had saved my life, had given me hope in a place where there was none. My mother had promised to send me an angel, and the angel had come.

Eventually I made my way to England where I was sponsored by a Jewish charity, put up in a hostel with other boys who had survived the Holocaust and trained in electronics. Then I came to America, where my brother Sam had already moved. I served in the U. S. Army during the Korean War, and returned to New York City after two years. By August 1957 I'd opened my own electronics repair shop. I was starting to settle in.

One day, my friend Sid who I knew from England called me. 'I've got a date. She's got a Polish friend. Let's double date.'

A blind date? Nah, that wasn't for me. But Sid kept pestering me, and a few days later we headed up to the Bronx to pick up his date and her friend Roma. I had to admit, for a blind date this wasn't so bad. Roma was a nurse at a Bronx hospital. She was kind and smart. Beautiful, too, with swirling brown curls and green, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with life.

The four of us drove out to Coney Island. Roma was easy to talk to, easy to be with. Turned out she was wary of blind dates too! We were both just doing our friends a favor. We took a stroll on the boardwalk, enjoying the salty Atlantic breeze, and then had dinner by the shore. I couldn't remember having a better time.

We piled back into Sid's car, Roma and I sharing the backseat. As European Jews who had survived the war, we were aware that much had been left unsaid between us. She broached the subject, 'Where were you,' she asked softly, 'during the war?'
'The camps,' I said, the terrible memories still vivid, the irreparable loss. I had tried to forget. But you can never forget.

She nodded. 'My family was hiding on a farm in Germany, not far from Berlin,' she told me. 'My father knew a priest, and he got us Aryan papers.' I imagined how she must have suffered too, fear, a constant companion. And yet here we were, both survivors, in a new world.
'There was a camp next to the farm.' Roma continued. 'I saw a boy there and I would throw him apples every day.'
What an amazing coincidence that she had helped some other boy.

'What did he look like? I asked. He was tall, skinny, and hungry. I must have seen him every day for six months.'

My heart was racing. I couldn't believe it. This couldn't be.

'Did he tell you one day not to come back because he was leaving Schlieben?'
Roma looked at me in amazement.

'Yes,' That was me! '

I was ready to burst with joy and awe, flooded with emotions. I couldn't believe it! My angel.
'I'm not letting you go.'

I said to Roma. And in the back of the car on that blind date, I proposed to her. I didn't want to wait.
'You're crazy!' she said. But she invited me to meet her parents for Shabbat dinner the following week. There was so much I looked forward to learning about Roma, but the most important things I always knew: her steadfastness, her goodness. For many months, in the worst of circumstances, she had come to the fence and given me hope. Now that I'd found her again, I could never let her go.

That day, she said yes. And I kept my word. After nearly 50 years of marriage, two children and three grandchildren I have never let her go.

Herman Rosenblat, Miami Beach, Florida

This is a true story and you can find out more by Googling Herman Rosenblat as he was Bar Mitzvahed at age 75. This story is being made into a movie called The Fence.

THE DONKEY

2008-10-05T18:33:00.000-07:00

One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey.

He invited all his neighbours to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement he quieted down.

A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up.

As the farmer's neighbours continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off!

MORAL :Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a steppingstone. We can get out of t he deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up.

Remember the five simple rules to be happy:
1. Free your heart from hatred - Forgive.
2. Free your mind from worries - Most never happen.
3. Live simply and appreciate what you have.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less

You have two choices, smile and close this page, or pass this along to someone else to spread the fun. I know, I did!!

Have a Great Day today, Enjoy Your Time and Have a Pleasant Day

Mail Her Back To Me

2008-10-02T18:28:00.000-07:00

This should probably be taped to your bathroom mirror where one could read it every day. You may not realize it, but it's 100% true.

There are at least two people in this world that you would die for.
At least 15 people in this world love you in some way.
The only reason anyone would ever hate you is because they want to be just like you.
A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if they don't like you.
Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before they go to sleep.
You mean the world to someone.
You are special and unique.
Someone that you don't even know exists loves you.
When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good comes from it.
When you think the world has turned its back on you, take another look.
Always remember the compliments you received. Forget about the rude remarks.

And always remember, when life hands you lemons, Make Margaritas and call me over!! Good friends are like stars.....You don't always see them, But you know they are always there.

'Whenever One Door Closes Another Always Opens, Even Though Sometimes It's Hell in the Hallway.'

I would rather have one rose and a kind word from a friend while I'm here than a whole truck load when I'm gone.

Don't you know the phrase 'stop and smell the flowers'?

Happiness keeps You Sweet,

Trials keep You Strong,

Sorrows keep You Human,

Failures keeps You Humble,

Success keeps You Glowing,

'Worry looks around, sorry looks back, Faith looks up.'

Think differently

2008-09-29T19:44:00.000-07:00

A blind boy sat on the steps of a building with a hat by his feet. He held up a sign which said: 'I am blind, please help.' There were only a few coins in the hat.

A man was walking by. He took a few coins from his pocket and dropped them into the hat. He then took the sign, turned it around, and wrote some words. He put the sign back so that everyone who walked by would see the new words.

Soon the hat began to fill up. A lot more people were giving money to the blind boy. That afternoon the man who had changed the sign came to see how things were. The boy recognized his footsteps and asked, 'Were you the one who changed my sign this morning? What did you write?'

The man said, "I only wrote the truth. I said what you said but in a different way." What he had written was: "Today is a beautiful day and I cannot see it."

Do you think the first sign and the second sign were saying the same thing?

Of course both signs told people the boy was blind. But the first sign simply said the boy was blind. The second sign told people they were so lucky that they were not blind. Should we be surprised that the second sign was more effective?

Moral of the Story: Be thankful for what you have. Be creative. Be innovative. Think differently and positively. Invite others towards good with wisdom. Live life with no excuse and love with no regrets. When life gives you a 100 reasons to cry, show life that you have 1000 reasons to smile. Face your past without regret. Handle your present with confidence. Prepare for the future without fear. Keep the faith and drop the fear.

Great men say, 'Life has to be an incessant process of repair and reconstruction, of discarding evil and developing goodness? In the journey of life, if you want to travel without fear, you must have the ticket of a good conscience.

The most beautiful thing is to see a person smiling? And even more the beautiful is know that you are the reason behind it!!!

I Am Thankful

2008-09-19T18:56:00.000-07:00

For The Wife
Who Says It's Hot Dogs Tonight, Because She Is Home With Me, And Not Out With Someone Else.

For The Husband
Who Is On The Sofa being A Couch Potato, Because He Is Home With Me and Not Out At The Bars.

For The Teenager
Who Is Complaining About Doing Dishes because It Means She Is At Home, Not On The Streets.

For The Taxes I Pay
Because It Means I Am Employed.

For The Mess To Clean After A Party
Because It Means I Have been Surrounded By Friends.

For The Clothes That Fit A Little Too Snug
Because It Means I Have Enough To Eat.

For My Shadow That Watches Me Work
Because It Means I Am Out In The Sunshine

For A Lawn That Needs Mowing, Windows That Need Cleaning, And Gutters That Need Fixing
Because It Means I Have A Home.

For All The Complaining I Hear About The Government
Because It Means We Have Freedom Of Speech..

For The Parking Spot I Find At The Far End Of The Parking Lot
Because It Means I Am Capable Of Walking and I Have Been Blessed With Transportation .

For My Huge Heating Bill
Because It Means I Am Warm.

For The Lady Behind Me In Church Who Sings Off Key
Because It Means I Can Hear.

For The Pile Of Laundry And Ironing
Because It Means I Have Clothes To Wear.

For Weariness And Aching Muscles At The End Of The Day
Because It Means I Have Been Capable Of Working Hard.

For The Alarm That Goes Off In The Early Morning Hours
Because It Means I Am Alive.

And Finally, For Too Much E-Mail
Because It Means I Have Friends Who Are Thinking Of Me.

Share This To Someone You Care About. I Just Did. Live Well, Laugh Often, & Love With All Of Your Heart!