I see a twinkle in your eye,
so this shall be my Christmas star
and I will travel to your heart:
the manger where the real things are.

And I will find a mother there
who holds you gently to her breast,
a father to protect your peace,
and by these things you shall be blessed.

And you will always be reborn
and I will always see the star
and make the journey to your heart:
the manger where the real things are.

There beneath the northern sky,
Amidst the stars that glow;
There comes a light far brighter
Than that of any light I know.

With eyes that dance like fire,
They pierce me to the soul;
Seeking, searching, wanting,
They haunt me 'ere I go.

Sometimes the fire reminds me
Of the things I wish to be,
And number one among them
Is with the brightest light I see.

Time will alter nothing,
For eternity has no end;
The only end that binds us
Is the end of death within.

So open up, imagine,
The potential you hold inside;
Share yourself forever
And let the stars collide.

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

'What are you doing?' I asked without fear,
'Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!'

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said 'Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night.'

'It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December,'
Then he sighed, 'That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers.'

My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..

Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.'
'So go back inside,' he said, 'harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right.'

'But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
'Give you money,' I asked, 'or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son.'

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
'Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.'

Personally...I think it's all about chemistry. You either have it or you don't. If you do, the rest pretty much falls into place. And then, of course, there's compromise...how much you can or are willing to do so. Too much "baggage" on either end can be a tough lift. At this age, I guess, it might be difficult to find someone who can take care of you better than you can take care of yourself...and I'm not just talking materialistically...wants and needs, etc. If you've been alone...man or woman...for any length of time, you've become somewhat independent...it's a given. That can be a hard nut to crack too. Lots of variables...men/Mars women/Venus thing. Jeez, after reading this over, it's a wonder ANYONE gets together!! LOL..........

Only a Farm Kid..

When you're from the country ~ you look at things a
little differently...


A Montana rancher got in his pickup and drove to a neighboring ranch and knocked at the door. A young boy, about 9, opened the door "Is your Dad home?" the rancher asked.


"No sir, he isn't," the boy replied. "He went into
town."

"Well," said the rancher, "Is your Mother here?"

"No sir, she's not here either. She went into town
with Dad."

"How about your brother, Howard? Is he here?"

"No sir, He went with Mom and Dad."

The rancher stood there for a few minutes, shifting
from one foot to the other and mumbling to himself.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" the boy asked politely. "I know where all the tools are, if you want to borrow one. Or maybe I could take a message for Dad."

"Well," said the rancher uncomfortably, "I really wanted to talk to your Dad. It's about your brother Howard getting my daughter, Suzie, pregnant."'

The boy considered for a moment. "You would have to talk to Pa about that," he finally conceded. "If it helps you any, I know that Pa charges $500 for the bull and $50 for the hog, but I really don't know how much he gets for Howard.."

Mick and Paddy had promised their uncle Seamus, who had been a seafaring gent all his life, to bury him at sea when he died. Of course, in due time, he did pass away and the boys kept their promise.

They set off with Uncle Seamus all stitched up in a burial bag and loaded onto their rowboat. After a while Mick says, 'Do yer tink dis is fer enuff out, Paddy?'

Without a word Paddy slips over the side, only to find himself standing in water up to his knees. 'Dis'll neva do, Mick. Let's row some more.'

After a bit more rowing Paddy slips over the side again, but the water is only up to his belly, so they row on.

Again Mick asks Paddy, 'Do yer tink dis is fer enuff out, Paddy?'

Once again Paddy slips over the side and almost immediately says, 'No, dis'll neva do.' The water was only up to his chest. So on they row and row and row and finally Paddy slips over the side and disappears. Quite a bit of time goes by and poor Mick is really getting himself into a state when suddenly Paddy breaks the surface, gasping for breath. 'Well is it deep enuff yet, Paddy?'

'Aye 'tis', says Paddy. 'Hand me da shovel.

Toy order..............
DEAR MADAM:
THANK YOU FOR YOUR RECENT ORDER FROM OUR SEX TOYS SHOP.
YOU ASKED FOR THE LARGE RED VIBRATOR AS FEATURED ON OUR WALL DISPLAY.
PLEASE SELECT ANOTHER ITEM BECAUSE THAT IS OUR FIRE EXTINGUISHER.

When a woman lies...
One day, when a seamstress was sewing while sitting close to a river, her thimble fell into the river. When she cried out, the Lord appeared and asked, "My dear child, why are you crying?" The seamstress replied that her thimble had fallen into the water and that she needed it to help her husband in making a living for their family.The Lord dipped His hand into the water and pulled up a golden thimble set with sapphires.

"Is this your thimble?"= ; the Lord asked.The seamstress replied, "No."

The Lord again dipped into the river. He held out a golden thimble studded with rubies.

"Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked. Again, the seamstress replied, "No."

The Lord reached down again and came up with a leather thimble.
"Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked. The seamstress replied, "Yes." The Lord was pleased with the woman's honesty and gave her all three thimbles to keep, and the seamstress went home happy.

Some years later, the seamstress was walking with her husband along the riverbank, and her husband fell into the river and disappeared under the water. When she cried out, the Lord again appeared and asked her, "Why are you crying?'' "Oh Lord, my husband has fallen into the river!"

The Lord went down into the water and came up with George Clooney. "Is this your husband? The Lord asked.

"Yes," cried the seamstress.The Lord was furious. "You lied! That is an untruth!" The seamstress replied, "Oh, forgive me, my Lord. It is a misunderstanding. You see, if I had said "no" to George Clooney, you would have come up with Brad Pitt.

Then if I said "no" to him, you would have come up with my husband. Had I then said "yes," you would have given me all three. Lord, I'm not in the best of health and would not be able to take care of all three husbands, so THAT'S why I said "yes" to George Clooney. And so the Lord let her keep him.

The moral of this story is: Whenever a woman lies, it's for a good and honourable reason, and in the best interest of others. That's our story, and we're sticking to it.

Signed, All Women
Laughter is like jogging on the inside. Exercise your 'innards' every day.

"A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." Proverbs 17:22 (NIV)

I live not in fear nor boost cause I am aware of the significance in regard. If not for ones self, who than for?

Ultimately it is the decisions we make not the conditions that will determine your destiny. Choose wisely.

Do not let the limitations of your body dictate the limitations of your mind.  You have to decide to see some of the biggest obstacles in your way as mere hurdles in the race to achieving your goals.

True living is about giving. Share these tools with your friends and family and help them achieve their dreams and goals.

Your ultimate vision will become your ultimate purpose in life.  It takes a strong heart and mind to stay on your purpose “path”.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Intention means nothing, results are everything. So, take some action today.

Don't just take action, take massive action.  With massive consistent action you will ultimately get what you want, but you must abandon any sense that there is no solution to any of your challenges.

You will always be remembered for your actions, so choose them wisely.  No problem you will encounter is permanent, no problem will effect your entire life.  All challenges will pass with massive, positive constructive action.

For each and every action there is a reaction. You cannot do the same things over and over again and expect to get different results.  Monitor your actions and ensure you are getting the results you desire.

Courage comes from the heart.  It takes courage to be strong from the inside out. You must have the courage to say NO.  You will become more like the people you associate with the most. The quality of your life will be a reflection of your peers. Have the courage to choose your friends well.

When the going gets tough quitters quit and winners show courage and "stand tall".  Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail for others to follow.

It doesn't matter what happens to you its what you do with what happens that makes a difference.  Have the courage to respond positively to any challenges that may come your way.

Trust in yourself and you can achieve anything. If you can imagine it you can achieve it and if you can dream it then you can become it.  Dream it...Believe it...Achieve it.

Never break a trust. If you tell the truth you will have the power of the universe supporting you.  Honesty is the food of champions.

Have faith in yourself and others will have faith in you. It is better to light a candle than to complain about the darkness.  

So, light your candle today and have faith in yourself.

Granny milked the cows
along side of her man,
eight or more each day and night
to lend a helping hand

I’ve seen her milk so many times
astride three-legged stools,
head leaned against a Guernsey cow,
yet she was no one’s fool

She used to name the critters
and treated them like kids,
petted, soothed, and curried
the same as Grandpa did
Granny pulled her weight
and did the work of ten,
there was no question ‘bout it
when measured next to men

You see it was their livelihood,
they worked a humble dairy,
pulling teats, cleaning stalls,
and milk cans they would carry

There were no days to squander,
their life was not their own,
no sick days, fun, nor leisure,
or time to whine and moan

Were no machines in those days
to make the work go fast,
they did it all by hand, you know,
like kinfolk in the past

The weather made no difference,
in blizzard, rain, or hail,
they headed for the old barn
each carrying a pail

Gramps would walk by Granny
not saying much it seemed,
convinced the life he’d given her
was not what she had dreamed

Forty years of hard work,
cooking, mending clothes,
having kids, and milking
was not great, he supposed

But I don’t think it mattered
to Granny and her kind,
they went where their men led them
and gave it little mind

She left her mark upon us,
we watched as kids and learned,
and I can’t thank her near enough
for what all I discerned

My thoughts are often with her,
an example to us all,
to not complain, just do the work,
each task both large an’ small.

My kid came home from school one day,
with this silly grin upon his face.
He thought he was smarter than me,
and could put me in my place.

HE SAID::
Guess what I learned in Civics class,
that's taught by Mr. Right?
It's about the laws of the land,
its called:
THE CHILDREN'S BILL OF RIGHTS.

IT SAYS:
I don't have to clean my room,
I don't have to cut my hair.
Nobody can tell me what to eat,
My freedom of speech is guaranteed.
Its my choice of what I read, or watch on TV.

I can wear an earring in my ear,
And, if I want, can pierce my nose.
It's my choice if I so desire
to tattoo numbers across my toes.

AND if you try to spank me,
I will charge you with the crime,
and I can back up all my charges,
with the marks on my behind.

Don't ever touch me, this body is only for my use,
not for your hugs and kisses and stuff,
that's just another form of child abuse.

Don't fill my head with morals,
like your mama did to you.
That's what's called mind control,
And it's illegal too!
Mom, I have these children's rights.
You can't do a thing to me,
or I can call Children's Services.
Better known as C.S.D.

MY TURN!!!
My very first impression was,
to toss this boy out the door.
But here was a chance to teach him a lesson,
for once and ever more.
I took my time and mulled it over.
I couldn't let this go.
This kid of mine didn't realize,
that he was messing with a pro!

AND AWAY WE GO.............
The next day we went shopping,
and in spite of every plea,
I didn't buy him 501s or shirts designed by Nike.
I had called and talked to C. S. D.,
they said they didn't care,
if I bought him K-Mart shoes,
or a pair of Nike Airs.

AND THEN:
I canceled his appointment to test his driving skills,
You'd think that he would have noticed
that the road he chose is all up hill.

I SAID::
There's no time to stop and eat,
or pick up stuff to munch.
I think you should follow my advice Son,
And make yourself a sack lunch.
So what, if you are too hungry,
to wait 'til dinner time.
We're having liver and onions,
Cause it's a favorite dish of mine.

HE ASKED::
Can we stop to get a movie,
so I can watch it on the VCR?
Absolutely not!
I sold the TV in your room
and bought new tires for my car.
I also rented out your room,
you really don't need a bed.
C.S.D. says all that's required of me
is to put a roof over your head.
I only have to buy your clothes,
and the food that you must eat.
The money you used to get for an allowance,
will now buy me something neat.
No more eating after we shop,
no more joking along the way.

For I too have a BILL OF RIGHTS,
that goes into effect today!
What's the matter, are you crying?
Are you down on your knees?
Why are you asking Dad for help?.........

WHY NOT CALL THE C.S.D.??

In my next life...
I want to be a bear

If you're a bear, you get to hibernate.
You do nothing but sleep for six months.
I could deal with that !

Before you hibernate,
you're supposed to eat yourself stupid.
I could deal with that, too !

If you're a bear, you birth your children
(who are the size of walnuts)
while you're sleeping and wake
to partially grown, cute cuddly cubs.
I could definitely deal with that !

If you're a mama bear,
everyone knows you mean business.
You swat anyone who bothers your cubs.
If your cubs get out of line, you swat them too.
I could deal with that !

If you're a bear,
your mate EXPECTS you to wake up growling.
He EXPECTS that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat.

Yup..... Gonna be a bear !!!

We convince ourselves that life will be better after we get married, have a baby, then another. hen we are frustrated that the kids aren't enough and we'll be more content when they are. After that we're frustrated that we have teenagers to deal with. We will certainly be happy when they are out of that stage. We tell ourselves that our life will be complete when our spouse gets his or her act together, when we get a nicer car, are able to go on a nice vacation, when we retire.

The truth is, there's no better time to be happy than right now. If not now, when?

Your life will always be filled with challenges. It's best to admit this to yourself and decide to be happy anyway. One of my favorite quotes comes from Alfred Souza. He said, "For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life". This perspective has helped me to see that there is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way. So, reassure every moment that you have. And treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to spend your time...and remember that time waits for no one...

So stop waiting until you finish school, until you go back to school, until you lose ten pounds, until you gain ten pounds, until you have kids, until your kids leave the house, until you start work, until you retire, until you get married, until you get divorced, until Friday night, until Sunday morning, until you get a new car or home, until your car or home is paid off, until spring, until summer, until fall, until winter, until you are off welfare, until the first or fifteenth, until your song comes on, until you've had a drink, until you've sobered up, until you die, until you are born again to decide that there is no better time than right now to be happy..

And enjoy the journey…

Don't know who wrote this, but I like it...

Some time ago, a friend of mine punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper.

Money was tight and he became infuriated when the small child tried to decorate a box to put under the tree.

Nevertheless the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said "This is for you Daddy."

He was embarrassed by his earlier over reaction.

But his anger flared again when he found that the box was empty.

Then he yelled at her, "Don't you know that when you give someone a present there's supposed to be something inside of it?"

The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said, "Oh Daddy it's not empty. I blew kisses into the box. All for you Daddy."

The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl and he begged her forgiveness.

My friend told me that he kept that gold box near his bed for years.

Whenever he was discouraged he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.

In a very real sense each of us has been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses.

There is no more precious possession anyone could hold.

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 on '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," Jack said. "I wouldn't be in the 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," he added.

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?" "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 answered.

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 package 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 package out to his car and ripped it open. 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 package 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 filled his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the gold 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 our time! Harold Belser."
"The thing he valued most ... was ... my time," Jack thought.

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," Jack said.

"Oh, by the way, Janet, ... thanks for your time!"

I started out
nice and slow
with every rhythm
I did go

Oh, I twisted
Oh, I turned
up and down
until it burned

With every thrust
I wanted more
until sensation
stripped my core

I let out moans
and then a scream
I could have sworn
it was a dream

My back was arching
side to side
emotions erupted
until I cried

My body went limp
I had to give in
I shouted out
ok, you win

Laid back gently
my thoughts of "wow"
I wiped the glisten
off my brow

Never before have
I felt such desire
to get those dam lug
nuts off my tire!

The road to success is not straight.

There is a curve called Failure;

a loop called Confusion;

speed bumps called Friends;

red lights called Enemies;

caution lights called Family.

You will have flats called Jobs.

But, if you have a spare called Determination;

an engine called Perseverance;

insurance called Faith,

and a driver called Grit,

But if you drive carefully,

you just might make it to a place called Success.


Whatever YOUR definition of that is...

There are unknown forces within nature; when we give ourselves wholly to her, without reserve, she leads them to us; she shows us those forms which our watching eyes do not see, which our intelligence does not understand or suspect.

Sand sifting through fingers evokes a provocative timelessness. Mud squishing through toes brings a delicious joy on a Spring afternoon, as does the early flower or the song of nesting birds. Yet when was the last time you paused long enough to enjoy the treats created by Mother Earth?

If you are like most, it has been too long. We tend to ignore the seasons created by the soothing revolutions of Mother Earth because we have let ourselves become dominated by time as created by mankind. Time runs on and on with never a pause or variation, but human time is broken into manageable units. We create minutes, days, weeks, months, and years to punctuate the unbroken flow. We mark the beginning, middle, and end of things to find ourselves in time...Our inner time sense records intensity and importance rather than duration: an October afternoon of love among the dunes may be written larger in memory than all the weeks surrounding it.

Despite our crude attempts to master time, our memories are consistent with seasonal time, ignoring our moment by moment obsessions. We lay upon Mother Earth's mantle to watch the clouds drift by, and time ceases to exist. We become aware once more of our relationship to the natural ebb and flow of life and the sensuous feel of nature beneath. She nourishes life itself, providing all we need to exist, including peace and inspiration.

John Muir was quoted as saying, "Let Children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and stream of our blessed star will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life...All is divine harmony."

By retreating daily into the wonders of Mother Earth, perhaps in a backyard garden, perhaps a walk in the wilderness, we open ourselves to a satisfying opportunity to create, to be at one with the Universe. Guidance comes to us most clearly in solitude. It is called 'the still, small voice' because we must quiet our minds and our lives enough to hear it....Increasing and regularizing our times of solitude and quiet increases our ability to receive guidance. One way to think of it is that we are creating a sort of spiritual clearing. I have a centering song which goes:

In the center of your heart
Is a still small part,
Like a meadow in a forest made of green
In the center of your heart,
Is a still small part,
And that is where your soul must go to dream

That stillness is Nature herself, devoid of the relentless tick of manmade time, swathed instead in the gentle turn of the seasons. That stillness, that rhythm is home for our mortal bodies and our immortal souls. Home is the place where we remember we are immortal, boundless, limitless, and able to live our lives with a sense of peace and wonder.

Within each grain of sand are the building blocks of life. As each shifts, combines or changes, it unleashes powerful forces--capable of destruction--yet more often raising us to dizzying heights. It would be a shame if we missed the experience simply because we were to busy to celebrate with Nature.

When was the last time you held your grain of sand?

When a woman in a certain African tribe knows she is pregnant, she goes out into the wilderness with a few friends and together they pray and meditate until they hear the song of the child. They recognize that every soul has its own vibration that expresses its unique flavor and purpose.

When the women attune to the song, they sing it out loud. Then they return to the tribe and teach it to everyone else.

When the child is born, the community gathers and sings the child's song to him or her. Later, when the child enters education, the village gathers and chants the child's song When the child passes through the initiation to adulthood, the people again come together and sing. At the time of marriage, the person hears his or her song.

Finally, when the soul is about to pass from this world, the family and friends gather at the person's bed, just as they did at their birth, and they sing the person to the next life. When I have shared this story in my lectures, a fair amount of people in the audience come to tears. There is something inside each of us that knows we have a song, and we wish those we love would recognize it and support us to sing it.

In some of my seminars I ask people to verbalize to a partner the one phrase they wish their parents had said to them as a child. Then the partner lovingly whispers it in their ear. This exercise goes very deep, and many significant insights start to click. How we all long to be loved, acknowledged, and accepted for who we are!

In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them. The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.

A friend is someone who knows your song and sings it to you when you have forgotten it. Those who love you are not fooled by mistakes you have made or dark images you hold about yourself. They remember your beauty when you feel ugly; your wholeness when you are broken; your innocence when you feel guilty; and your purpose when you are confused

One recent summer when I went to visit a friend and her family in Portland, Oregon. One afternoon she took me to the community pool, where I met a man who changed my life. Mr. Simmons talked to me for about ten minutes. It wasn't what he said that affected me so deeply; it was how he listened to me. He asked me questions about my life, my feelings, my work, and my interests.

The unusual thing about Mr. Simmons was that he paid attention to my answers. Although I had family, friends, and mentors, this man was the only person in my world who seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say and valued me for who I was. After our brief conversation I never saw him again. I probably never will. I'm sure he had no idea that he gave me the gift of a lifetime. Maybe he was one of those angels who show up for a brief mission on earth, to give someone faith, confidence, and hope when they most need it

If you do not give your song a voice, you will feel lost, alone, and confused. If you express it, you will come to life. We attract people on a similar wavelength so we can support each other to sing aloud. Sometimes we attract people who challenge us by telling us that we cannot or should not sing our song in public. Yet these people help us too, for they stimulate us to find greater courage to sing it.

You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn't. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers.

Just keep singing and you'll find your way home.

Every day, from spring until fall, young Bethushka took her flock of sheep to graze near a grove of birches. In her pocket was a spindle for spinning flax into thread. But she much preferred to roam and explore in the woods. Sometimes she went down to see what new wildflowers had bloomed in the meadow. And occasionally she would make up a little dance, just for the fun of it, and twirled about under the trees.

One spring day a beautiful woman suddenly appeared before her. She had long blond hair and was dressed in a silky white dress and she wore a wreath of flowers on her head.

"I see you like to dance!" said the woman.

"Oh yes," said Bethuska, "I could dance the whole day! But my mother had given me this flax to spin."

"Tomorrow is another day," said the lady, "Come, dance with me! I will teach you some steps!"

So Bethushka lept up and joined the lady. Laughing and singing, they danced through the trees and out into the field. So light were their steps that the grass was neither trampled nor bent. Near evening the lady vanished as suddenly as she had appeared.

Bethushka gathered her flock and headed homeward. When her mother asked about her spinning, she pretended to have misplaced the spool. She said nothing about the lady in white.

The next day Bethuska went back to the same place, this time determined to do her spinning. Again the lady appeared. "Will you dance?"

"I cannot. I must do my spinning. Or else my mother will be angry with me."

"If you will dance with me, I'll help you to spin."

So once again, Bethuska joined the lady and together they danced through the day. Near sunset, the beautiful lady smiled, waved her arms and lo!, like magic, the spool was filled with fine linen thread. That evening Bethuska's mother was pleased to see the thread. But still Bethuska said nothing about about the dancing.
The third day the Lady in White was waiting for Bethushka near the woods. They danced as never before - pirouetting and curtseying, skipping and swooping, whirling and laughing, skimming over the ground as lightly as the wind. When the day was over, the Lady in White spun the flax again.

"You are a fine dancer, Bethushka! I have enjoyed myself!" - and she handed Bethusha a pouch with a mysterious pattern embroidered on the outside. "Take good care of this," said the lady. Bethushka peeked inside and saw that it was filled with dried yellow birch leaves.

When Bethuska arrived home, she gave her mother the new spool of thread. This time her mother looked at it more carefully.

"Where did you get this from? Surely you did not spin it yourself?"
So Betushka told the whole story of meeting up with the beautiful lady dressed in the long white dress.

"Why, Bethushka - that was the Wild Lady of the Birch Grove! It's very good luck to meet up with her!"

"She taught me some wonderful dances!" exclaimed Bethushka "And look- she gave me this pretty little pouch filled up with old birch leaves!" But when Bethushka emptied out the pouch for her mother, her mouth fell open in astonishment. The birch leaves were made of solid gold.

This tale lends itself well to an outdoor setting, especially if there are birch trees nearby. I have a special fondness for birches and certainly I have no trouble in identifying with young Bethushka who would rather dance and play than do her spinning! But alas, I usually wind up spinning.

Birches have long been considered sacred in many cultures throughout the world. Native American people used birch bark for canoes and the covering of their wigwams and as well, fashioned cooking and storage implements from the hard wood. Birch also played an important role in shamanic rituals in Nordic countries of Europe, with birch poles commonly forming the central supporting pole (or "world tree") in huts where initiations took place and as well, with birch branches being used to slap the skin for increased circulation. Birch was also the first letter, "beth," of the pre-Celtic Druid "Ogham Alphabet" in which every letter had an association to a tree. In that iconography, birch symbolizes new beginnings, purification and protection during times of difficulty.

The mysterious white clad woman in this story seems to be a kind of woodland goddess, suggesting the same kind of deep reverence for nature that characterized pre-Christian and pre-industrial societies.

Sometimes I have asked myself for different versions of an ending. How will Bethushka negotiate this conflict facing her...between frustration for not getting work done and play? Will the Lady in White turn out to be an evil or dangerous figure? It is interesting to see the various responses which emerge! When I imagined dire consequences for Bethuska I've learned to see that giving into expressive impulses does not have to turn out badly and can lead to rich rewards. The story also fosters an attitude of my appreciation for the natural world.

As in so many other folktales, the "gold" seems symbolic of an inner transformation that has taken place. In joining in the dance with the Lady in White, Bethushka's consciousness is opened to a passionate new mythic dimension. Like the white-barked birch tree itself, the Lady in White offers lessons for those who are willing to listen...and I ALWAYS try to listen.

There once was a master woodcarver who lived in the village of Weaton in the canton of Wylais. Many of the churches in this region were beautified by this special handiwork, which was the carving of sacred figures of the saints, and church pews decorated with wooden foliage.

One evening when the church bell of Weaton rang for the hour of prayer the woodcarver heard strange but beautiful singing. He went to his window to listen and noticed it seemed to be coming from the forest of Bohach which covered the steep hills that rose above the village.

The singing stopped as soon as the bell stopped ringing. "My imagination is running away with me," the woodcarver muttered to himself as he put away his tools and hurried to church. But the next night he heard the singing again. And the night after that he heard it once more. In fact, the strange music began every time the church bell rang for evening prayers and ended when the bell stopped ringing every night for the next several nights. The woodcarver was understandably relieved to discover that many other villagers heard it as well.

One evening during prayer time, he climbed the hill to the forest of Bohach determined to find the source of the mysterious music. He wandered about among the huge trees for a long time. At last the singing led him to a giant fir hundreds of years old. To his astonishment the sound seemed to come from out of its trunk! When it was again quiet he ran to the village to report his discovery. After that, each evening several of his neighbors climbed the hill to the miraculous tree and stood in reverent amazement beside it.
The woodcarver visited the tree often and ran his hands across its bark. The giant fir was constantly in his thoughts, even appearing in his dreams. He became obsessed with the idea of making a carving out of it, to be the most magnificent work he had ever done.

The parish finally agreed to cut down the tree and let him work on it. But the woodcutters harbored a secret misgiving as they felled the magnificent fir, and their hearts grew heavy as they dragged it down to the valley with horses.

The master carver cut himself a huge block from the heart of the tree. He told the parish he was going to make a statue of the Virgin Mary and set to work that very night. He toiled day in and day out and in his zeal almost forgot to eat. People flocked from miles away to watch the Holy Mother slowly emerge from the wood. The woodcarver was truly talented and his work a veritable masterpiece. All said that no artist had ever made Mary look so beautiful and alive.

When the statue was finished it was presented to the church of Weaton. The priest took the statue and placed it on the alter as the people watched in silent awe. Then suddenly the wooden figure of Mary opened its mouth, and once more the familiar dulcet tones of the miraculous music were heard.

But that was the last time the fir tree sang.

At first glance it seems Christian but, in my opinion, is quite pagan in origin. The woodcutter finds a tree on the hillside that sings every Sunday when the church bells ring. This is quite miraculous in itself but this woodcutter decides that he will make it into something "better," a statue of the Virgin Mary. He succeeds in creating his masterpiece and everyone is wowed by the statue singing in church on the day it was installed....but that is the last time the fir tree, now a statue, sang.

I believe the real moral of the story is that when we refuse to see the spirituality inherent in every living thing and disregard that spirit by attempting to shape it into our short-sighted image of what spirituality is all about, we wind up disconnected from the true source of spiritual power.

Ol' Fred had been a religious man who was in the hospital, near death. The family called their preacher to stand with them. As the preacher stood next to the bed, Ol' Fred's condition appeared to deteriorate and he motioned frantically for something to write on.

The pastor lovingly handed him a pen and a piece of paper, and Ol' Fred used his last bit of energy to scribble a note, then he died. The preacher thought it best not to look at the note at that time, so he placed it in his jacket pocket.

At the funeral, as he was finishing the message, he realised that he was wearing the same jacket that he was wearing when Ol' Fred died.

He said, "You know, Ol' Fred handed me a note just before he died. I haven't looked at it, but knowing Fred, I'm sure there's a word of inspiration there for us all."

He opened the note, and read out loud, "Hey, you're standing on my oxygen tube!"



The average cost of rehabilitating a seal after the Exxon Valdez oil spill in Alaska was $80,000. At a special ceremony, two of the most expensively saved animals were being released back into the wild amid cheers and applause from onlookers. A minute later, in full view, a killer whale ate them both.



On Christmas morning a cop on horseback is sitting at a traffic light, and next to him is a kid on his shiny new bike. The cop says to the kid, "Nice bike you got there. Did Santa bring that to you?"

The kid replies, "Yeah."

The cop says, "Well, next year tell Santa to put a tail-light on that bike."

The cop then proceeds to issue the kid a $20.00 bicycle safety violation ticket.

The kid takes the ticket and before he rides off says, "By the way, that's a nice horse you got there. Did Santa bring that to you?"

Humoring the kid, the cop says, "Yeah, he sure did."

The kid continued, "Well, next year tell Santa to put the dic^k underneath the horse, instead of on top."



After just a few years of marriage, filled with constant arguments, a young man and his wife decided the only way to save their marriage was to try counseling. They had been at each other's throat for some time and felt that this was their last straw. When they arrived at the counselor's office, the counselor jumped right in and opened the floor for discussion.

"What seems to be the problem?" Immediately, the husband held his long face down without anything to say. On the other hand, the wife began talking 90 miles an hour describing all the wrongs within their marriage.

After 5...10...15 minutes of listening to the wife, the counselor went over to her, picked her up by her shoulders, kissed her passionately for several minutes, and sat her back down. Afterwards, the wife sat there speechless.

He looked over at the husband who was staring in disbelief at what had happened. The counselor spoke to the husband, "Your wife NEEDS that at least twice a week!"

The husband scratched his head and replied, "I can have her here every Tuesdays and Thursdays."



A mother is with her 5 year old boy at the zoo when they reach the elephant cage. The 5 year old boy looks with amazement at the large beast and says to his Mom, "What's that long thing hanging down from the elephant?" Mom replies "That's his trunk." The little boy goes, "I know that, the thing to the other side of the trunk." The Mom replies "Oh, that's his tail." The boy goes, "I know that! No, what's that big thing hanging down in between the trunk and tail." Mother, wanting to avoid this subject at all costs, just says "Oh, that's nothing" and whisks him off to the next exhibit. Two weeks later he goes to the same zoo with his dad. They are at the elephant exhibit and he asks his dad "What's that long thing hanging down from the elephant?" The dad replies, "That's his trunk." "No, behind that!" says the kid. "Oh, well that's his tail" replies the father. "NO, in-between the trunk and the tail!" yells the kid. Dad replies, "Son, that's the elephant's pen&is." The kid, a bit puzzled, tells his dad, "But Mom said it was nothing." Dad replied, "Well, your mom's been spoiled."

Laughter is part of the human survival kit because the best blush to use is laughter. It put roses in your cheeks and in your soul.



After years of frustration, the Smiths had no children and decided to use a proxy father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon".

Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. "Good morning madam. You don't know me, but I've come to..." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really ?" the photographer asked. "Well, good! I've made a specialty of babies." "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat. "Just where do we start?" asked Mrs. Smith, blushing. "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too, you can really spread out." "Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn't work for Harry and me." "Well, madam, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results." "I hope we can get this over with quickly," gasped Mrs. Smith. "Madam, in my line of work, a man must take his time. I'd love to be in and out in five minutes, but you'd be disappointed with that, I'm sure." "Don't I know !!", Mrs. Smith exclaimed. The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. "This was done on the top of a bus in downtown London." "Oh my god!!", Mrs. Smith exclaimed, tugging at her handkerchief. "And these twins turned out exceptionally well when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with." The photographer handed Mrs. Smith the picture. "She was difficult ?" asked Mrs. Smith. "Yes, I'm afraid so. I finally had to take her to Hyde Park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep, pushing to get a good look. "Four and five deep?" asked Mrs.Smith, eyes widened in amazement. "Yes", the photographer said. "And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling. I could hardly concentrate. Then darkness approached and I began to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just packed it all in." Mrs. Smith leaned forward. "You mean they actually chewed on your, eh equipment ?" "That's right. Well madam, if you're ready, I'll set up my tripod so that we can get to work."

"Tripod??", Mrs. Smith looked extremely worried now. "Oh yes, I have to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big for me to hold while I'm getting ready for action ... Madam ? Madam?...Good Lord, she's fainted !!!"