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OUR SHADOW SIDE

Evil urges are not the only part of ourselves that we try to shunt off into the darkness. Our shadow side, according to Carl Jung, includes any aspect of ourselves that we consider ‘merely somewhat inferior, primitive, unadapted, and awkward, not wholly bad. It contains undeveloped, childish, or primitive qualities which would in a way vitalise and embellish human existence.’

The core of each of our personalities is a primordial chaos of contradictions — good and evil, weakness and strength, brutality and compassion — all that is sacred and all that is profane. We claim certain aspects of this core as our public image. In hiding whatever else we are from ourselves and others, we create our shadow side. And in the act of hiding, we reinforce our sense of being lost and alone.

GOD'S LOVE

God's love does not insist on fidelity, good taste, or common sense.

Why then should we demand more of those we love?

FORGIVENESS

But forgiving is not the same thing as forgetting. “Letting go” of the past is not some kind of erasure; forgiveness is not an attempt to obliterate the past or wipe the slate clean.

“The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naive forgive and forget; the wise forgive, but they do not forget,” commented radical psychiatrist Thomas Szasz, echoing the nineteenth-century German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer, who phrased this core insight in another way: “To forgive and forget means to throw away dearly bought experience.”

For-GIVE-ness, recall, connotes gift; to confuse forgiving with forgetting would lose — even violate — that reality. If forgiving were the same as forgetting, then forgiving would be an act in some way under our human control. But we are capable of forgiveness only if we are acted on by some reality outside of, beyond, and in some way greater than ourselves. We cannot bestow forgiveness either by or on ourselves.

Confusing forgiving with forgetting sets another trap: We become convinced that mistakes and wrongdoings not only can, but should, be forgotten. Spiritual tradition sees it as a strange delusion that our problems have to be gotten rid of; instead, the sages and saints suggest, such difficulties are best put to use. The offense is precisely what must not be forgotten, since it is through the act of facing what has happened and fitting it into a whole by re-membering it that the possibility of atonement (making at-one) occurs and forgiveness comes to fruition. “Salvation lies in remembrance.”

And so, finally, because the past is important, there can be no “unconditional forgiveness.” Because we are human, and therefore limited, there can be no unconditional anything. We are not God. Forgetting that, as is our all-too-human tendency, we commit idolatry by assuming that since God loves and forgives unconditionally, we can be like God and do the same. But all “idolatry” has ironic consequences, producing the opposite of the goal intended. Thus the claim to “forgive unconditionally” is the antithesis of the benign, for it devalues the one we are supposedly forgiving by implying that he is not responsible for his choice.

Any understanding of forgiveness must include some notion of responsibility. Forgiveness, divine or human, does not remove responsibility for our actions. If we ignore the consequences of irresponsible actions by claiming or asking for unconditional forgiveness, then forgiveness loses its significance — it comes to be interpreted as not caring. Every human being is responsible for his or her choices: which means, quite simply, that each of us has a need to matter — somehow, to someone. We especially need to know that our actions have an effect on the people we love.

KNOWLEDGE

We are here and it is now.
Further than that all human knowledge is moonshine.

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A PRAYER FOR GUIDANCE

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore, I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

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COMMITMENT

Until One Is Committed
there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans. That the moment one definitely commits oneself then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never oherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no-one could have dreamt would have come ther way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.
Begin it now.

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ORIGINAL SIN

One of the recurrent themes of this book has been that the idea of original sin, the wrong turn from which so many subsequent mistakes and problems follow, is not disobedience or lust, but the arrogant claim of self-sufficiency, the idea that we don't need help, that we are strong enough to do it entirely on our own.

MIRRORS

Do not ask that the mirrors be taken down. Ask only if you like what you have made of your mind.

CHANGING YOUR BROTHER

It is not up to you to change your brother, but merely to accept him as he is.

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THE RED ROSE

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station.
He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes pencilled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City.
He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond.

The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II.

During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart.

A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like. When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting — 7:00 p.m. at the Grand Central Station in New York.

“You'll recognize me,” she wrote, “by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel.”
So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen. I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:

‘A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. “Going my way,sailor?” she murmured. Almost uncontrollably, I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own. And there she stood.
Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle.I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment.
“I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?”
The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. “I don't know what this is about, son,” she answered, “but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!”’
It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive. “Tell me whom you love,” Houssaye wrote, “And I will tell you who you are.”

UNLIVED LIVES

Nothing has a stronger influence psychologically on their environment, and especially on their children, than the unlived lives of the parents.

MATURITY

In essence, then, fully functioning mature human persons are continually growing, for they realise that maturity is not a goal, but rather a process; that the essence of maturity lies in creative and responsible choices. They have a flexible but nonconformist sense of identity, an accepting and vivid sense of who they are, what they can be and where their powers lie.

Fundamental to the mature person is the ability to form deep, intimate, meaningful relationships which are based upon an “unconditional regard” for the uniqueness of others. They are affectionate, loving and sexually responsive; they are sociable, have friends and a sense of community. They are productive workers and dedicated to their labours. They embrace change for the improvement of themselves and others, as well as of the society in which they live. They are self-determined, inventive, good-humoured, and comfortable in their world, with themselves and with others,

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SEEKING LOVE

The Buddhas and the Christs are born complete. They neither seek love nor give love, because they are love itself. But we who are born again and again must discover the meaning of love, must learn to live love as the flower lives beauty.

IN FLANDERS FIELDS

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Written May 3, 1915 after the battle at Ypres by
Maj. (Dr.) (later Lieutenant-Colonel) John McCrae
of the 1st Field Artillery Brigade.

Published in "Punch" December 8, 1915

GETTING PEOPLE TO LIKE YOU

Getting people to like you is merely the other side of liking them

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IDENTITY

First of all, although men have a common destiny, each individual has to work out his own personal salvation for himself in fear and trembling. We can help one another to find the meaning of life no doubt. But in the last analysis, the individual person is responsible for living his own life and for “finding himself.” If he persists in shifting his responsibility to somebody else, he fails to find out the meaning of his own existence. You cannot tell me who I am, and I cannot tell you who you are. If you do not know your own identity, who is going to identify you?

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DEFINE OR BE DEFINED

From the very beginning of our lives, most of us have been subjected to other people's attempts to map out our lives. Parents, teachers, and others assign us roles and present us with a “map” that we supposedly fit into … or are “supposed to” fit into. In the process of growing to adulthood, we begin to accept the responsibility of defining ourselves, of finding and designing our own map, of owning ourselves. At times, however, adulthood seems to consist of fending off others who try to impose on us their ideas of what our roles should be, their version of our stories. Our spiritual problems stem, at least in part, from the fact that we continue to allow someone else to tell us our story. As R. D. Laing* observed:

Others tell one who one is. Later one endorses, or tries to discard, the ways others have defined one. It is difficult not to accept their story. One may try not to be what one “knows” one is, in one's heart of hearts … [But all too often,] we learn to be whom we are told we are.

*Self and Others, p94

Or, as Dr Tom Szasz* has put it: “In the animal kingdom, the rule is, eat or be eaten; in the human kingdom, define or be defined.”

*The Second Sin, p21

ALONENESS

To a disciple who was always seeking answers from him the Master said, "You have within yourself the answer to every question you propose -- if you only knew how to look for it."

And another day he said, "In the Land of the spirit, you cannot walk by the light of someone else's lamp. You want to borrow mine. I'd rather teach you how to make your own."

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LOVE

If I truly love one person,

I love all persons,
I love the world,
I love life.

If I say to somebody else,

‘I love you,’

I must be able to say,

‘I love in you everybody,
 I love through you
 the world,
 I love in you also myself.’

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THE VALUE OF JUDGING OTHERS

At any given time there are still a number of ways I have not forgiven myself, but always one I am now ready to forgive. Simultaneously with my readiness there appears in my life a person who does something I don't like, and what he does symbolises that particular “fault.” It is necessary that I first look at this person judgmentally, no matter how brief this misperception may be, otherwise I would not recognise what I am refusing to forgive about myself. He has come only to provide me with the means whereby I can see my own innocence. Another's “fault” is certainly his most valuable gift to me. It is a mirror which allows me to choose another reflection.

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RISKING

To laugh is to risk appearing the fool.
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.
To reach out is to risk involvement.
To express feelings is to risk exposing your true self.
To place your ideas and dreams before the crowd is to risk their love.
To love is to risk not being loved in return.
To live is to risk dying.
To hope is to risk despair.
To try is to risk failure.
But the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The one who risks nothing does nothing and has nothing – and finally is nothing.
He may avoid sufferings and sorrow,
But he simply cannot learn, feel, change, grow or love.
Chained by his certitude, he is a slave; he has forfeited freedom.
Only one who risks is free!

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CREATOR

If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for to the creator there is no poverty and no poor indifferent place …
For the creator must be a world for himself and find everything in himself and in nature to whom he has attached himself.

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ENCOUNTERS

My state of mind leads me to a string of encounters with people in the same mental state. This is also true of Gayle's and my communication with other couples. If we are conflicted, each couple we encounter appears to have a relationship that needs fixing in some way. And when we are at peace, our world of relationships rests with us. My mind can never be a recipient only. It is at all times a participant and contributor. It is half a truth, and therefore an inaccurate interpretation, that “the vibes here are bad” or that “there is a lot of negative energy in this place.” I do not find myself somewhere by accident. I have come together with certain others to exchange a thought that can be clearly recognised by all. How would I learn what it is I want if it were not for the inescapable fact that everyone around me is holding up a picture of my mental state?

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A SPECIAL TIME

My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package.

“This,” he said, “is not a slip. This is lingerie.”

He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on it was still attached.

“Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at least 8 or 9 years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion.”

He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me.

“Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you're alive is a special occasion.”

I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected death. I thought about them on the plane returning to California from the Midwestern town where my sister's family lives. I thought about all the things that she hadn't seen or heard or done. I thought about the things that she had done without realising that they were special.

I'm still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life. I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting on the deck and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time in committee meetings. Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experience to savour, not endure. I'm trying to recognise these moments now and cherish them.

I'm not “saving” anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event – such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, the first camellia blossom.

I wear my good blazer to the market if I feel like it. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries without wincing. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties; clerks in hardware stores and tellers in banks have noses that function as well as my party-going friends'.

“Someday” and “one of these days” are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now. I'm not sure what my sister would have done had she known that she wouldn't be here for the tomorrow we all take for granted. I think she would have called family members and a few close friends. She might have called a few former friends to apologise and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think she would have gone out for a Chinese dinner, her favourite food. I'm guessing – I'll never know.

It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew that my hours were limited. Angry because I put off seeing good friends whom I was going to get in touch with – someday. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write – one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and daughter often enough how much I truly love them. I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and lustre to our lives.

And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special.

Every day, every minute, every breath truly is …
a gift from God.

OUR TASK

Our task is to become quiet, listen for guidance, and step forward with love and trust in our heart.

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FRIENDS IN DEED

He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary's School in Morris, Minn.

All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful. Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable.

What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving - “Thank you for correcting me, Sister.” I didn't know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.

One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher's mistake. I looked at Mark and said, “If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!” It wasn't ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, “Mark is talking again.” I hadn't asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it. I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning.

I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark's desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room.

As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did it!! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark's desk, removed the tape, and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, “Thank you for correcting me, Sister.”

At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the “new math,” he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in third.

One Friday, things just didn't feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves – and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.

It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers.

Charlie smiled. Mark said, “Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend.”

That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. “Really?” I heard whispered. “I never knew that meant anything to anyone!” “I didn't know others liked me so much!” No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again. That group of students moved on.

Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip – the weather, my experiences in general.

There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply said, “Dad?” My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. “The Eklunds called last night,” he began.

“Really?” I said. “I haven't heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is.”

Dad responded quietly. “Mark was killed in Vietnam,” he said. “The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend.” To this day I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.

I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me.

The church was packed with Mark's friends. Chuck's sister sang “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Why did it have to rain on the day of the funeral? It was difficult enough at the graveside.

The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played “Taps.” One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water. I was the last one to bless the coffin.

As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. “Were you Mark's math teacher?” he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. “Mark talked about you a lot,” he said.

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates headed to Chuck's farmhouse for lunch. Mark's mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. “We want to show you something,” his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. “They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognise it.”

Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. “Thank you so much for doing that,” Mark's mother said. “As you can see, Mark treasured it.”

Mark's classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, “I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home.” Chuck's wife said, “Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album.” “I have mine too,” Marilyn said. “It's in my diary.” Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. “I carry this with me at all times,” Vicki said without batting an eyelash. “I think we all saved our lists.”

That's when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

THE END

written by: Sister Helen P. Mrosla

The purpose of this letter is to encourage everyone to compliment the people you love and care about. We often tend to forget the importance of showing our affections and love. Sometimes the smallest of things could mean the most to another.

I am asking you, please send this letter around and spread the message and encouragement, to express your love and caring by complimenting and being open with communication. The density of people in society is so thick, that we forget that life will end one day. And we don't know when that one day will be.

So please, I beg of you, tell the people you love and care for that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late.

I leave these messages with you and ask you to continue to spread the message to everyone that you know.

Nancy Hamlin, M.D.
Vielmetti Health Center
1401 Presque Isle
Northern Michigan University
Marquette, MI 49855

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I'VE LEARNED

I've learned -

that you cannot make someone love you.
All you can do is be someone who can be loved.
The rest is up to them.

I've learned -

that no matter how much I care,
some people just don't care back.

I've learned -

that it takes years to build up trust,
and only seconds to destroy it.

I've learned -

that it's not what you have in your life
but who you have in your life that counts.

I've learned -

that you can get by on charm
for about fifteen minutes.
After that, you'd better know something.

I've learned -

that you shouldn't compare
yourself to the best others can do,
but to the best you can do.

I've learned -

that it's not what happens to people
that's important.
It's what they do about it.

I've learned -

that you can do something in an instant
that will give you heartache for life.

I've learned -

that no matter how thin you slice it,
there are always two sides.

I've learned -

that it's taking me a long time
to become the person I want to be.

I've learned -

that it's a lot easier
to react than it is to think.

I've learned -

that you should always leave
loved ones with loving words.
It may be the last time you see them.

I've learned -

that you can keep going
long after you think you can't.

I've learned -

that we are responsible for what we do,
no matter how we feel.

I've learned -

that either you control your attitude
or it controls you.

I've learned -

that regardless of how hot and steamy
a relationship is at first,
the passion fades and there had better be
something else to take its place.

I've learned -

that heroes are the people
who do what has to be done
when it needs to be done,
regardless of the consequences.

I've learned -

that learning to forgive takes practice.

I've learned -

that there are people who love you dearly,
but just don't know how to show it.

I've learned -

that money is a lousy way of keeping score.

I've learned -

that my best friend and I can do anything
or nothing and have the best time.

I've learned -

that sometimes the people you expect
to kick you when you're down,
will be the ones to help you get back up.

I've learned -

that sometimes when I'm angry
I have the right to be angry,
but that doesn't give me
the right to be cruel.

I've learned -

that true friendship continues to grow,
even over the longest distance.
Same goes for true love.

I've learned -

that 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.

I've learned -

that maturity has more to do with
what types of experiences you've had
and what you've learned from them,
and less to do with how many
birthdays you've celebrated.

I've learned -

that you should never tell a child
their dreams are unlikely or outlandish.
Few things are more humiliating, and
what a tragedy it would be
if they believed it.

I've learned -

that your family won't always
be there for you. It may seem funny,
but people you aren't related to
can take care of you and love you
and teach you to trust people again.
Families aren't biological.

I've learned -

that no matter how good a friend is,
they're going to hurt you
every once in a while
and you must forgive them for that.

I've learned -

that it isn't always enough
to be forgiven by others.
Sometimes you have to learn
to forgive yourself.

I've learned -

that no matter how bad
your heart is broken
the world doesn't stop for your grief.

I've learned -

that our background and circumstances
may have influenced who we are,
but we are responsible for who we become.

I've learned -

that sometimes when my friends fight,
I'm forced to choose sides
even when I don't want to.

I've learned -

that just because two people argue,
it doesn't mean they don't love each other
And just because they don't argue,
it doesn't mean they do.

I've learned -

that sometimes you have to put
the individual ahead of their actions.

I've learned -

that we don't have to change friends
if we understand that friends change.

I've learned -

that you shouldn't be so
eager to find out a secret.
It could change your life forever.

I've learned -

that two people can look
at the exact same thing
and see something totally different.

I've learned -

that no matter how you try to protect
your children, they will eventually get hurt
and you will hurt in the process.

I've learned -

that there are many ways of falling
and staying in love.

I've learned -

that no matter the consequences,
those who are honest with themselves
get farther in life.

I've learned -

that no matter how many friends you have,
if you are their pillar you will feel lonely
and lost at the times you need them most.

I've learned -

that your life can be changed
in a matter of hours
by people who don't even know you.

I've learned -

that even when you think
you have no more to give,
when a friend cries out to you,
you will find the strength to help.

I've learned -

that writing, as well as talking,
can ease emotional pains.

I've learned -

that the paradigm we live in
is not all that is offered to us.

I've learned -

that credentials on the wall
do not make you a decent human being.

I've learned -

that the people you care most about in life
are taken from you too soon.

I've learned -

that although the word “love”
can have many different meanings,
it loses value when overly used.

I've learned -

that it's hard to determine
where to draw the line
between being nice and
not hurting people's feelings
and standing up for what you believe.

AUTHOR: UNKNOWN

• Aloneness [ Anthony de Mello, SJ ]
• A Prayer For Guidance [ Thomas Merton ]
• Awakening [ Taitetsu Unno ]
• A Special Time [ Ann Wells | Los Angeles Times ]
• Changing Your Brother [ Foundation for Inner Peace | A Course In Miracles ]
• Commitment [ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe {1832} ]
• Creator [ Rainer Maria Rilke | Letters To A Young Poet ]
• Define Or Be Defined [ Ernest Kurtz & Katherine Ketcham | The Spirituality Of Imperfection, p115 ]
• Encounters [ Hugh Prather | There Is A Place Where You Are Not Alone, p102 ]
• Forgiveness [ Ernest Kurtz & Katherine Ketcham | The Spirituality Of Imperfection, p223 ]
• Friends In Deed [ Sister Helen P Mrosla ]
• Getting People To Like You [ Norman Vincent Peale ]
• God's Love [ Hazelden | In God's Care, January 28 ]
• Heroes [ John D Macdonald | Cinnamon Skin, p7 ]
• Honour Your Peculiarity [ Sheldon Kopp | All God's Children Are Lost, But Only A Few Can Play The Piano, p25 ]
• Identity [ Thomas Merton ]
• In Flanders Fields [ Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae | May 3, 1915 ]
• I've Learned [ Author Unknown ]
• Knowledge [ H L Mencken ]
• Love [ Erich Fromm ]
• Maturity [ Leo Buscaglia | Personhood, p46 ]
• Mirrors [ Hugh Prather | There Is A Place Where You Are Not Alone, p103 ]
• Original Sin [ Harold Kushner | Who Needs God , p183 ]
• Our Shadow Side [ Sheldon Kopp | All God's Children Are Lost, But Only A Few Can Play The Piano, p27 ]
• Our Task [ Hazelden | In God's Care, September 18 ]
• Risking [ Author Unknown ]
• Seeking Love [ Henry Miller | Insomnia ]
• The Red Rose [ Author Unknown ]
• Unlived Lives [ Carl Jung ]
• The Value Of Judging Others [ Hugh Prather | There Is A Place Where You Are Not Alone, p79 ]

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Page last updated 21 January 2001
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