ANGER AT THE RIGHT DEGREE

At a turbulent public meeting once I lost my temper and said some harsh and sarcastic things.  The proposal I was supporting was promptly defeated.
My father who was there, said nothing, but that night, on my pillow I found a marked passage from Aristotle:

 

"Anybody can become angry--that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way--that is not within everybody's power and is not easy."

SHARED FROM:  http://www.inspirationalstories.com/anger

UNITE TO ASSIST EACH OTHER

 

Once there was a father who had a family of sons who were perpetually quarreling among themselves.   When he failed to heal their disputes by his exhortations, he's determined to give them a practical illustration of the evils of disunion; and for that purpose he one day told them to bring him a bundle of sticks.
When they had done so, he placed the bundle of sticks into the hands of each of them in succession, and ordered them one by one to break it in pieces. They tried with all their strength, and were not able to do it.
He than opened the bundle, and took the sticks separately, one by one, and again put them into his sons' hands, upon which they broke them easily.
He then addressed them, "My sons, if you are of one mind, and unite to assist each other, you will be as these sticks that are bundles together, uninjured by all the attempts of your enemies; but if you are divided among yourselves, you will be broken as easily as these sticks."


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BECOME WHAT YOU BELIEVE...

Once upon a time, at a large mountainside there was an eagle nest with 4 large eagle eggs inside.
One day, an earthquake rocked the mountain causing one of the eggs to roll down to a chicken farm, located in the valley below.
The chickens knew that they must protect the eagle egg. Eventually, the eagle egg hatched and a beautiful eagle was born.
Being chickens, the chickens raised the eagle to be a chicken. The eagle loved his home and family but it seemed his spirit cried out for more.
One day, the eagle looked to the skies above and noticed a group of mighty eagles soaring. ”Oh,” the eagle cried, “I wish I could soar like those birds.”
The chickens roared with laughter, “You cannot soar like those. You are a chicken and chickens do not soar.” The eagle continued staring at his real family up above, dreaming that he could be like them.
Each time the eagle talked about his dreams, he was told it couldn’t be done.
That was what the eagle learned to believe. After time, the eagle stopped dreaming and continued to live his life as a chicken.
Finally, after a long life as a chicken, the eagle passed away.
 
Moral: You become what you believe you are. If you ever dream to become an eagle, follow your dreams, not the words of chickens.

Author: Gary Barnes

SHARED FROM:  http://academictips.org/blogs/

LOOK AT THE OTHER SIDE...

A father was reading a magazine and his little daughter every now and then distracted him.

Trying to keep her busy, he tore out one page on which was printed the map of the world.  He then tore the page into pieces and asked her to go to her room and put them together to make the map again.

He was sure she would take the whole day to get it done.  But the little one came back within minutes with the perfect map…

When he asked how she could do it so quickly, she said, “Oh… Dad, there is a man’s face on the other side of the paper…  I made the face perfect to get the map right.” She ran outside to play leaving the father surprised.

 

Reflection:

There is always the other side to whatever you experience in this world. This story indirectly teaches a lesson. i.e. whenever we come across a challenge or a puzzling situation, look at the other side… You will be surprised to see an easy way to tackle the problem.

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WHAT SOME PEOPLE WOULD SACRIFICE FOR OTHERS

A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside.  “Your son is here,” she said to the old man. She had to repeat the words several times before the patient’s eyes opened.

Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack, he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside the oxygen tent.  He reached out his hand.  The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man’s limp ones, squeezing a message of love and encouragement.

The nurse brought a chair so that the Marine could sit beside the bed.  All through the night the young Marine sat there in the poorly lighted ward, holding the old man’s hand and offering him words of love and strength.

Occasionally, the nurse suggested that the Marine move away and rest awhile.  He refused.  Whenever the nurse came into the ward, the Marine was oblivious of her and of the night noises of the hospital – the clanking of the oxygen tank, the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings, the cries and moans of the other patients.  Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words.  The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.

Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse.  While she did what she had to do, he waited.  Finally, she returned. She started to offer words of sympathy, but the Marine interrupted her.  “Who was that man?” he asked.

The nurse was startled, “He was your father,” she answered.

“No, he wasn’t,” the Marine replied.  “I never saw him before in my life.”

“Then why didn’t you say something when I took you to him?”

“I knew right away there had been a mistake, but I also knew he needed his son, and his son just wasn’t here.  When I realized that he was too sick to tell whether or not I was his son, knowing how much he needed me, I stayed.”

 

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EMPOWERMENT

EMPOWERMENT

A Way Of Life

JOHN TSCHOHL

All CEOs believe their employees are empowered.  But reality is that it doesn’t happen, and actually empowered employees or situation just don’t exist.  Empowerment is a myth in the management world, because in reality the employees are afraid to make even the smallest decisions.  The definition of empowerment is to give power or authority to, or to authorize.  Empowerment is all about creating an environment that gives employees the authority to make fast decisions to benefit customers.  Empowered employees create happy customers.

Empowerment is also about responsibility- the responsibility to use their authority efficiently, appropriately and to the greatest effect.  In short empowerment means working quickly and efficiently.  The speed of thought, action, and consequences are the tools of the empowered worker.

The most important assets in any organization are its employees, and consistently across the world they are the least paid, least trained and least appreciated.  People are driven more by recognition than by money.  Ideas and creativity are the fuel of the future.  Thus employees are supposed to be hired for attitudes and trained for skills.  Organizations always say they want creative individuals who can think outside the box.  Thus the goal is to hire people who aren’t afraid to stand out.  Unfortunately the system is set up such as such that they hire those who fit in.

Information is the key to success and satisfaction in the workplace.  The more information you have, the better equipped you are to make a good decision.  Feedback is a vital ingredient in becoming the best, most productive and valuable employee.  Remember not to get defensive when receiving feedback.

The ability to ask for help and delegate authority is not a sign of weakness.  Actually, delegation and engagement is the cornerstone of teamwork.

Empowerment is based on responsibility and trust.  The glue that holds all relationships together including the relationship between the leader and the led is trust, and trust is based on integrity (Brian Tracy< American Speaker, Trainer and Self-help Author).  For empowerment to work there must be recognition and celebration.  And for empowerment to succeed, clear parameters need to be defined.  Being empowered does not give you the authority to create your own dictatorship where you get to call all the shots.

Make small changes that make a big difference.  People are motivated to work harder when they are part of the decision.  Don’t we all want people to seek us out because they like to work with us?

CRACKS AND FLAWS OF LIVES

An elderly Asian woman had two large pots used to carry water from nearby river, each hung on the end of a pole, which she carried across her neck.

One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water.  At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For two years, this went on daily with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water.  The perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments.  The poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

After 2 years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman: “I am ashamed of myself because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way to your house.”

The old woman smiled, “Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot’s side?”

“That’s because I have always known about your flaw so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them.  For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table.  Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.”

 

LESSON LEARNED: Like the pots, we all have our own unique flaws.  But it’s the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding.

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IF IT'S MEANT TO BE, IT WILL BE

As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet in the street.  I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so that I could call the owner.  But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.

The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address.  I opened the letter, hoping to find some clue as to the owner of the wallet.  Then I saw the date – 1924.  The letter had been written almost 60 years ago.

It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner.  It was a “Dear John” letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him anymore because her mother forbade it.  Even so, she wrote that she would always love him.  It was signed, Hannah.  It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way that the owner could be identified except for the name Michael.
I called information asking if the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.  She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, “Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can’t give you the number.”  She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me.

I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. “I have a party who will speak with you.”  I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah.  She gasped, “Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah.  But that was 30 years ago!”

“Would you know where that family could be located now?” I asked.

“I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago,” the woman said.  “Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter.”  She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number.  They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living.

I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.  This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself.  Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old?

Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, “Yes, Hannah is staying with us.”

Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her.  “Well,” he said hesitatingly, “if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television.”

I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door.  We went up to the third floor of the large building.  In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.  She was a sweet, silver-haired oldtimer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye.  I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter.  The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, “Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael.”

She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, “I loved him very much.  But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young.  Oh, he was so handsome.  He looked like Sean Connery, the actor.”

“Yes,” she continued. “Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person.  If you should find him, tell him I think of him often.  And,” she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, “tell him I still love him.  You know,” she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, “I never did marry.  I guess no one ever matched up to Michael…”

I thanked Hannah and said goodbye.  I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, “Was the old lady able to help you?”

I told him she had given me a lead. “At least I have a last name.  But I think I’ll let it go for a while.  I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet.”

I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side.  When the guard saw it, he said, “Hey, wait a minute!  That’s Mr. Goldstein’s wallet.  I’d know it anywhere with that bright red lacing.  He’s always losing that wallet.  I must have found it in the halls at least three times.”

“Who’s Mr. Goldstein?” I asked as my hand began to shake.

“He’s one of the oldtimers on the 8th floor.  That’s Mike Goldstein’s wallet for sure.  He must have lost it on one of his walks.”  I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse’s office.  I told her what the guard had said.  We went back to the elevator and got on.  I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.

On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, “I think he’s still in the day room.  He likes to read at night.  He’s a darling old man.”

We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book.  The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet.  Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, “Oh, it is missing!”

“This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?”

I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, “Yes, that’s it!  It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward.”

“No, thank you,” I said. “But I have to tell you something.  I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet.”

The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. “You read that letter?”

“Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is.”

He suddenly grew pale. “Hannah? You know where she is?  How is she?  Is she still as pretty as she was?  Please, please tell me,” he begged.

“She’s fine…just as pretty as when you knew her.” I said softly.

The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, “Could you tell me where she is?  I want to call her tomorrow.”  He grabbed my hand and said, “You know something, Mister?  I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended.  I never married. I guess I’ve always loved her.”

“Mr. Goldstein,” I said, “Come with me.”

We took the elevator down to the third floor.  The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television.  The nurse walked over to her.

“Hannah,” she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. “Do you know this man?”

She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn’t say a word.  Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, “Hannah, it’s Michael. Do you remember me?”

She gasped, “Michael! I don’t believe it!  Michael!  It’s you! My Michael!” He walked slowly towards her and they embraced.  The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces.

“See,” I said.  “If it’s meant to be, it will be.”

About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home.  “Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding?  Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!”

It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration.  Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful.  Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall.  They made me their best man.

The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple.

A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.

 

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A CARROT, AN EGG AND COFFEE BEANS

A young woman told her mother about her life and how things were so hard for her.  She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up.  She was tired of fighting and struggling.  Her problems never seemed to end, as when one was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen.  She filled three pots with water and placed each pot on a high fire.  Soon the water in the pots came to boil. In the first pot, she placed carrots, in the second pot she placed eggs, and in the last pot she placed ground coffee beans.

She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.  In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners.  She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl.  She pulled the eggs out and placed them in another bowl.  Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a third bowl.  Turning to her daughter, she asked, “Tell me what you see.”

“Carrots, eggs, and coffee,” she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft.  The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it.  After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.  Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma.  The daughter then asked, “What does it mean, mother?”

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water.  Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak.

The egg had been fragile.  Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.

However, the ground coffee beans were unique.  After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water. “Which are you?” she asked her daughter.

LESSON LEARNED:
When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond?  Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?

Are you the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity, wilted and become soft and lose strength?

Are you the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat?  Used to have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, become hardened and stiff?  Though the shell look the same, but on the inside, bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or are you like the coffee bean?  The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain.  When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor.  Like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.  When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate yourself to another level.

How do you handle adversity?
Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?