Declare your inauthenticity... get transformed

Once upon a time there was a holy man who went from village to village with his disciples, preaching to the people. There was a magic in his speech. People were impressed by his words and reformed themselves. One day he was preaching to the people as usual when a man came and fell at his feet.The man said, “Oh Holy man, I am a robber. I am tired of leading a robber’s life. Now I wish to live the life of a good man. Kindly tell me how I can turn a new leaf in my life.”
The holy man patted him on the back and said, “You are a pious man. Why did you take to robbing people? Pledge from today that you will never rob people again nor will you tell lies nor will you tyrannies anybody.”
Having taken the pledge and having promised to do as he had been told, the robber went away.
Several days passed. The holy man was delivering his sermon at some other place. The same robber came there and told the holy man that in spite of his best offers he could not reform himself. Robbing and looting had become his second nature.
Holy Man: Then what can I do?
Robber: Tell me some other way to mend myself.
Holy Man: I told you a method but you could not act upon it.
Robber: Excuse me, tell me some other method.
The holy man though for a while and said, “All right, you cannot give up robbing, never mind. There is another way-out. But this time you will have to act upon my advice.
“I will surely do that.”
“You can go about robbing people and doing whatever you like but in the evening come to me, wherever I am, and recount to me what you did during the day.”
“This I can do easily.” Saying this, the robber went his way. Several days passed after that incident but the robber never came. A disciple asked, “Guruji! That robber has no come again.
The holy man said, “He will never come now. It is easy to commit a crime but it is very difficult to make a public confession of it. That is why he has given up robbing and looting..”

Moral: The best and the only way to get rid of one’s mistakes is to make open confession of one’s mistakes. Public confession creates a sense of reproof and remorse because the conscience reprimands.

Courtesy: An article contributed by a co-worker in my department’s weekly newsletter

When you're single and your friends start to get married...

When you're single and your friends start to get married, every wedding invitation presents a strange moment of self-evaluation. Will you be bringing a guest or will you be attending alone? What it's really asking is where do you see yourself in three months? Sitting next to your girlfriend or hitting on a bridesmaid? I always checked that I was bringing a guest. I was an optimist

- Ted in 'How I Met Your Mother'

Lead by your actions...

If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music, or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well.

- Martin Luther King Jr.

On Understanding...

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the pups. As he was nailing the post into the post on the edge of his yard, he heard a soft “Hello”. He looked down into the eyes of a little boy. “Mister," he said, "I want to buy one of your puppies."
"Well," said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, "These puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money." The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. "I've got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?" "Sure," said the farmer.
And with that he let out a whistle,"Here,Dolly!" he called. Out from the doghouse and down the ramp ran Dolly followed by four little balls of fur. The little boy pressed his face against the chain link fence. His eyes danced with delight.
As the dogs made their way to the fence, the little boy noticed something else stirring inside the doghouse. Slowly it came out, noticeably smaller. Down the ramp it slid. Then in a somewhat awkward manner the little pup began hobbling toward the others, doing its best to catch up. "I want that one," the little boy said, pointing to the little one.
The farmer knelt down at the boy's side and said, "Son, you don't want that puppy. He will never be able to run and play with you like these other dogs would." With that the little boy stepped back from the fence, stood and began rolling up one leg of his trousers. In doing so he revealed a steel brace running down both sides of his leg attaching itself to a specially made shoe. Looking back up at the farmer, he said, "You see sir, I don't run too well myself, and he will need someone who understands."

Courtesy: An article contributed by a co-worker in my department’s weekly newsletter

The House with 1000 Mirrors

Long ago in a small, far away village, there was a place known as the 'House with 1000 Mirrors'. A small, happy little dog learned of this place and decided to visit. When he arrived, he bounced happily up the stairs to the doorway of the house. He looked through the doorway with his ears lifted high and his tail wagging as fast as it could. To his great surprise, he found himself staring at 1000 other happy little dogs with their tails wagging just as fast as his. He smiled a great smile, and was answered with 1000 great smiles just as warm and friendly. As he left the house, he thought to himself, "This is a wonderful place. I will come back and visit it often."

In this same village, another little dog, who was not quite as happy as the first one, decided to visit the house. He slowly climbed the stairs and hung his head low as he looked into the door. When he saw the 1000 unfriendly looking dogs staring back at him, he growled at them and was horrified to see 1000 little dogs growling back at him. As he left, he thought to himself, "That is a horrible place, and I will never go back there again."


MORAL: All the faces in the world are mirrors. What kind of reflections you see in the faces of the people you meet depends on you. You have a choice!

Courtesy: An article contributed by a co-worker in my department’s weekly newsletter

Knowing where to make an effort

A giant ship engine failed. The ship's owners tried one expert after another, but none of them could figure out how to fix the engine.

Then they brought in an old man who had been fixing ships since he was a young. He carried a large bag of tools with him, and when he arrived, he immediately went to work. He inspected the engine very carefully, top to bottom.

Two of the ship's owners were there, watching this man, hoping he would know what to do. After looking things over, the old man reached into his bag and pulled out a small hammer. He gently tapped something. Instantly, the engine lurched into life. He carefully put his hammer away. The engine was fixed!

A week later, the owners received a bill from the old man for ten thousand dollars.

"What?!" the owners exclaimed. "He hardly did anything!"

So they wrote the old man a note saying, "Please send us an itemized bill."

The man sent a bill that read:

Tapping with a hammer...... ......... ........ $ 2.00
Knowing where to tap.......... ......... ...... $ 9, 998.00


Moral: Effort is important, but knowing where to make an effort makes all the difference!

Courtesy: An article contributed by a co-worker in my department’s weekly newsletter

People die. That truth is so disheartening that at times I can't bear to articulate it. Why should we go on, you might ask? Why don't we all just stop and lie down where we are? But there is another truth, too. It's an equal and opposing truth. People live, and in the most remarkable ways.

- Lance Armstrong: It's Not About The Bike

It makes me crazy when my wife, Kristin, drives our car, because she brakes at all the yellow caution lights, while I squirm impatiently in the passenger seat.
"Come on, don't be a skirt," I tell her.
"Lance," she says, "marry a man".

- Lance Armstrong: It's Not About The Bike