The Dream

He gently opened his eyes and the warm sun beat upon his face. He lay among the soft caress of the grass and a gentle wind embraced him. His father sat underneath a tree a few feet way beside the babbling brook.

"You are awake," his father smiled.

"I fell asleep dad."

"You did my son."

"I had a dream dad."

His father rose and sat beside him. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"It was so real dad. I dreamt of missiles falling from the sky and little kids, even younger than I getting killed and maimed. The world was in a bad state. Millions were poor dad, not even with enough to eat. There were homeless people and destitute. There were huge storms and hurricanes and all types of disasters happening. People were fighting all of the time – over land, possessions, oil and money. Rainforests were dying dad and animals of all types were in danger and the earth was actually heating up! And I dreamt of growing up in this world and I was having happy times and sad times. And I lived a life dad. I did! I had a wife and kids and it was crazy fast you know. Everything went so quickly. And I felt so much. I was scared, full of joy, there was fear and hope. And so many times I felt helpless. And a lot of the time I felt so lonely. Worst of all dad, I didn't know where you were. I kinda knew you were there somewhere and I kept calling out for you. In fact sometimes I gave up hope and told myself that you didn't exist at all. But deep down I had a feeling you were somewhere. As I grew older I stopped searching for you out there and started looking within. Which was strange really but I kinda felt you were a part of me dad just as I was a part of you. It was full on dad and then I just woke up!"

His father looked at him with love in his wise eyes. "That’s some dream son!"

"How long was I asleep dad?"

"Mmmmmm perhaps 5 minutes... not much more."

"Wow! All of that in 5 minutes?"

The son looked knowingly at his dad for awhile.

"Dad that was my first dream."

"I know son... and your last... if you so choose."

"Dad?"

"Yes my son?"

"Did you know I was dreaming?"

"Why yes, of course."

The son reflected on this for a moment.

"So dad, during the bad parts of the dream did you know I was suffering?"

"My son, you may have appeared to be suffering in the dream but were always perfectly safe with me here."

"You could have woken me?"

"I could, but I didn't. You would have woken with a start. It would have been a little frightening for you that way. You gently came out of the dream yourself. You choose to enter the dream state. It is best if you choose to exit."

The son stretched out on the grass.

"Dad?"

"Yes my son."

"I love you."

"I know, my child. We are love."

Growing Good Corn

There once was a farmer who grew award-winning corn. Each year he entered his corn in the state fair where it won a blue ribbon.

One year a newspaper reporter interviewed him and learned something interesting about how he grew it. The reporter discovered that the farmer shared his seed corn with his neighbors.

"How can you afford to share your best seed corn with your neighbors when they are entering corn in competition with yours each year?" the reporter asked.

"Why sir," said the farmer, "didn't you know? The wind picks up pollen from the ripening corn and swirls it from field to field. If my neighbors grow inferior corn, cross-pollination will steadily degrade the quality of my corn. If I am to grow good corn, I must help my neighbors grow good corn."

He is very much aware of the connectedness of life. His corn cannot improve unless his neighbor's corn also improves.

So it is with our lives. Those who choose to live in peace must help their neighbors to live in peace. Those who choose to live well must help others to live well, for the value of a life is measured by the lives it touches. And those who choose to be happy must help others to find happiness, for the welfare of each is bound up with the welfare of all.

The lesson for each of us is this: if we are to grow good corn, we must help our neighbors grow good corn.


It is possible to give away and become richer! It is also possible to hold on too tightly and lose everything. Yes, the liberal man shall be rich! By watering others, he waters himself.

A 'Yes' Face

During Thomas Jefferson's presidency he and a group of travelers were crossing a river that had overflowed its banks. Each man crossed on horseback fighting for his life. A lone traveler watched the group traverse the treacherous river and then asked President Jefferson to take him across. The president agreed without hesitation, the man climbed on, and the two made it safely to the other side of the river where somebody asked him: "Why did you select the President to ask this favor?" The man was shocked, admitting he had no idea it was the President of the United States who had carried him safely across. "All I know," he said, "is that on some of your faces was written the answer 'No' and on some of them was the answer 'Yes.' His was a 'Yes' face."

The Young Merman

Once upon a time there was a young merman who lived in a beautiful kingdom deep in the ocean. Ever since he had been born he had always been surrounded by magnificent coral reefs, exotic sea creatures and the breath-taking architecture of the mer-people. Yet he never seemed happy, as he always saw the worst in everything and was critical of those around him. Of course, this made him very unpopular with the other mermen and mermaids, and he often found himself alone, thinking about how awful everything and everyone was.

He did, however, have one friend; the eldest and wisest merman in the kingdom. This old merman had known the young merman’s parents for a very long time, and he knew that the boy had never had any friends because of his negative attitude. The wise merman felt sorry for the boy, and so, when he could, he would take some time to talk to the boy and try to help him.

One morning the boy and the wise merman were taking a gentle swim through the kingdom. The wise merman was admiring what a beautiful morning it was turning out to be, but the boy could only notice that the water was colder than he liked it and that the dolphins were being too playful and noisy.

“But what about the coral?” suggested the old merman. “Aren’t the colours glorious today?”

“I guess,” the boy shrugged. “If you happen to like orange, red and pink.”

The old merman looked at the boy for a moment, before the boy finished, “Which I don’t.”

The old merman sighed, wondering if he would ever be able to think of something to make the boy happy. He wrapped the end of his long, white beard around his finger and then unwrapped it again.

“Well,” he said, “I should be on my way. I have a class to teach”.

“What are teaching today?” asked the boy.

“Today I’ll be teaching about God.”

“God?”

“Yes, God. Have you never heard of God?”

“No. How would I? I’ve never been to any of your lessons.”

“Hmm.” The old merman stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Well, that is a shame. Cheerio then.”

As the old merman began to leave the boy stopped him.

“Hey! Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”

“What what is?”

“God!”

“Oh, I see. Well, you can find God everywhere really…”

“Everywhere? But that’s impossible…. Isn’t it?”

“No, it’s very possible.”

“Well, what does it look like then?”

“It looks like you, and me, and the dolphins and the coral….”

The boy frowned at the old merman. “So God isn’t really anything at all?”

The wise, old merman smiled at the boy for a brief moment and then turned away to leave.

“You tell me!” he said as he swam away. “Go and find it and then tell me if it isn’t really anything at all!”

~

The young merman swam around the kingdom aimlessly for a while, feeling cross about the nonsense the old merman had been speaking.

“What rubbish,” thought the boy. “God looks like everything? God can’t be very special then!”

Frowning, he looked around him, at the buildings, the mer-people and the shimmering fish. Then he remembered the old merman’s words.

“Fine,” he thought. “I’ll look for it, and then I’ll tell him what I think!”

The boy swam straight up to a dolphin, folded his arms across his chest and stared at it.

“So you’re God, are you?”

The dolphin looked at the boy and grinned. The boy didn’t grin back.

“God has a chunk missing from its fin and has bits of fish caught in its teeth, does it?! How stupid!”

The boy swam off, leaving behind the dolphin who had started to laugh.

The boy was in such a bad mood whilst he was swimming that he swam right into a beautiful mermaid with long, golden hair. She looked cross at first, but her face softened and she smiled at the boy.

“You must be in a rush to get somewhere,” she said gently.

“Not really,” the boy replied.

“Well, just try to be careful then, you wouldn’t want to hurt someone.”

Another frown appeared on the boys face and he swam on.

“Well, she can’t be God, that’s for sure. You wouldn’t want to hurt someone… Who does she think she is?”

The boy swam up to a high cliff which overlooked the entire kingdom. He slumped down onto a rock, feeling very hard-done-by. As he looked down he saw a tiny, brightly coloured fish feeding off of the algae which grew on the rock.

“You can’t be God either,” said the boy glumly. “You’re far too small.”

~

As the evening closed in and the lights of the kingdom began to sparkle in the dark water, the boy sighed. He had been looking for God all day, and all that he had found was a stupid dolphin, a rude mermaid and a small, insignificant fish. The young merman was just about to call it a day and swim home, when he spotted his old friend swimming slowly towards him.

“What are you doing all the way up here?” asked the wise merman. “You’re a long way from the town.”

“Well I was doing what you said and…” the boy replied venomously, but the old merman raised his hand to silence the boy.

“So you’ve been up here all day? Too angry and self absorbed to notice when God is right in front of you?”

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again, suddenly feeling foolish.

“Look,” said the old merman forcefully. And he pointed towards the kingdom; towards the lights spilling from the buildings, and the glittering schools of fish weaving gracefully in and out of the tall towers and low coral houses; towards the beautiful mermaids and mermen rushing to and fro throughout the kingdom and the enormous shadows of whales on the outskirts of the underwater city. From high up on the cliff every individual movement seemed like a cog in the one big movement of the whole kingdom. Each life and action seemed to fit perfectly with everything else.

The boy sat watching the kingdom, which seemed like one united pulse of colour, movement and breath. He had never seen it this way before.

“Do you see God now?” asked the old merman gently.

“Yes,” said the boy, in awe. “I… I never noticed it before. It’s all perfect, isn’t it? Why didn’t I see it before?”

“When you stop thinking about yourself and how you wish the world would be, you start to see how the world really is. And it’s better than anything that you wished for, isn’t it? Because it doesn’t revolve around you and your ideas; you’re just part of the beautiful flow of it all. Doesn’t that feel good to know?”

Just then the boy saw the tiny, coloured fish which he had seen earlier that day. It was casually swimming over the rocks, experiencing every moment as it arrived and not expecting anything at all. The boy suddenly realised how much like the tiny fish he’d like to be.

He laughed. “Yes, it feels wonderful!”

Two Horses

Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it. From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse.

But if you get a closer look you will notice something quite interesting...

One of the horses is blind.

His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made him a safe and comfortable barn to live in.

This alone is pretty amazing.

But if you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell. It is coming from a smaller horse in the field.

Attached to the horse's halter is a small, copper-colored bell. It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.

As you stand and watch these two friends you'll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the blind horse, and that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk to where the other horse is, trusting he will not be led astray.

When the horse with the bell returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, he will stop occasionally to look back, making sure that the blind friend isn't too far behind to hear the bell.

Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect. Or because we have problems or challenges.

He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need.

Sometimes we are the blind horse, being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives.

And at other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way.

Wooden Bowls

A frail old man lived with his son, his daughter-in-law, and his four-year-old grandson. His eyes were blurry, his hands trembled, and his step faltered.

The family would eat together nightly at the dinner table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating rather difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon, drooping to the floor. When he grasped his glass of milk, it often spilled clumsily at the tablecloth.

With this happening almost every night, the son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.

"We must do something about grandfather," said the son.

"I've had enough of his milk spilling, noisy eating and food on the floor," the daughter-in-law agreed.

So the couple set a small table at the corner.

There, grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed their dinner at the dinner table. Since grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in wooden bowls. Sometimes when the family glanced in grandfather's direction, he had a tear in his eye as he ate alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old watched it all in silence.

One evening, before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly: "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy replied, "Oh, I'm making a little bowl for you and mama to eat your food from when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.

These words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears streamed down their cheeks. Though no words were spoken, both knew what must be done. That evening, the husband took grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table.

For the remainder of his days, grandfather ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk was spilled or the table cloth was soiled.

Pools

Through the cold winter wasteland he trudged, leaning into the harsh wind which spitefully tried to force him back. He was covered from head to toe in layers of thick clothing, layers of protection against the harsh environment. On he fought, searching, searching. He was working so hard. This must be the way.

In the distance he saw what looked like steam rising out of the ground. It rose a few feet and then was quickly whipped away by the biting wind. He altered his course and turned towards the steam, gaining some blessed relief as he turned his chapped face out of the gale. As he got closer, he thought he could make out voices. Their tone was unfamiliar to him - musical, relaxed and warm - their melody enticed him closer. Finally he got close enough to peer through the mist.

There before him was a remarkable sight. In the midst of the frozen wasteland, cut into the ground was a large pool. Several people were in the pool, they seemed to be floating easily without any effort. As they saw him approach, a woman called out to him.

"Come in here. It is lovely and warm. You can just lie back and relax," said the woman.

"I can't. There are no steps." The man replied.

"Just jump in. It really is lovely in here. Come on. There's plenty of room for another." Another of the floaters joined in the persuasion.

"But what if I don't like it, how will I get out? The sides are too high to reach up to."

"Believe me, you won't want to get out. Come on. It is so good in here."

He stood for a moment, paralyzed with indecision. It looked so much like the answer, but how could it be this easy? Just jump in? Lie back and relax? It couldn't be that simple. It must be a trick. He could not trust them. There was no way out if he changed his mind. He blocked out their warm invitations and once more filled his mind with grim determination.

On he trudged. Hours passed and his shadow grew long. Then once again in the distance he saw another cloud of rising steam. Entering the mist, a similar sight greeted him once more.

"Come in here. You don't have to be cold any more," said one of the bathers in a gentle voice. All the faces in the pool turned to look at him. Warm smiles reached out to him but his eyes could not perceive them.

"How do I get in? I can't see any steps. You are a long way down." He asked once again.

"Just jump in. It is very deep. You will be quite safe."

"But what if I want to get out? What if I get tired and cannot stay afloat any longer?"

"This is not like normal water, we are kept afloat without any effort. I promise you, you really will not want to get out."

"But my clothes will get wet and their weight will drag me down."

"You can remove all those layers. You will not need their protection in here. It is always beautifully warm."

But he could not bring himself to do that. Those layers were his protection, accumulated over the years to keep out the bitter cold. How could he now discard them, just like that? How could he allow himself to be so exposed?

On he trudged. Darkness came and the temperature dropped still further. Snow began to fall and the wind drove it into his face. Walking blind he carried on.

Then suddenly he felt some warmth in the air and the ground disappeared beneath him. With a scream he fell and his fall was broken with a splash. Panic overcame him and he thrashed around desperately until his hands touched a wall and he clawed at the smooth surface, loudly cursing the futility of it.

Then suddenly he heard a soft voice beside him. '"Shhhh. It's OK. It's OK," said the voice in beautiful feminine tones. "Just relax. You will be OK." Then he felt her hands moving over his body, searching then loosening his winter clothing. Layer after layer was gently removed, her voice continuing to sooth his panic until eventually he could feel the wonderful warmth of the water directly against his skin. "It's OK," she said once more as she held him close in the dark. For the first time since he could remember, he fully relaxed and quickly drifted off into a much needed sleep in her arms.

He awoke to a wonderful new dawn. He gazed into the beautiful eyes of his rescuer and felt the wonderful warmth of the water around him. Then he heard footsteps above. A weary man dressed head to foot in winter furs peered over the edge of the pool.

"Come in here!" He quickly shouted to the man. "It is so wonderful in here!"

"But what if I don't like it? How will I get back out?" The man asked.

"Believe me. You really won't want to get out," he assured the man.

Tasting Life

Tasting Life
Anthony De Mello
 
Before the young man began his studies, he wanted assurance from the Master.

"Can you teach me the goal of human life?"

"I cannot," replied the Master.

"Or at least its meaning?"

"I cannot."

"Can you indicate to me the nature of death and of life beyond the grave?"

"I cannot."

The young man walked away in scorn. The disciples were dismayed that their Master had been shown up in a poor light.

Said the Master soothingly, "Of what is it to comprehend life's nature and life's meaning if you have never tasted it? I'd rather you ate your pudding than speculated on it."

Thanks for Your Time

It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday."

Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

"Jack, did you hear me?"

"Oh sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.

"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him.

"I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said.

"You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said.

"He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important... Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time.

Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time.

The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture... Jack stopped suddenly.

"What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked.

"The box is gone," he said.

"What box?" Mom asked.

"There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said.

It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

"Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read.

Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention.

"Mr. Harold Belser" it read.

Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch.

Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved:

"Jack, Thanks for your time! -Harold Belser."

"The thing he valued most...was...my time."

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked.

"I need some time to spend with my son," he said. "Oh, by the way, Janet... thanks for your time!"