Arriving at Joseph Korbel school ;Denver University; The scholarship and the drama

It’s now September 2nd 1998. It’s busy, helter skelter chaos at every departmental faculty at the University of Denver. I am nervous and scared to death. I sit outside the Penrose library overlooking the Joseph Korbel School of international studies watching enviously at the students hurrying up and down to register for classes. I wanted to join them and register for classes. But I could not. I needed to first get clearance with the Financial Director and issued with a number that shows that I have paid in full for my tuition, books and in order to access the library facilities. I had not. I could not. But I am already here. Yes, here at my dream graduate school. Yes, here in America, far away from home.


So now I am watching people walking by. Some walking in pairs, some looking like lovers who are talking about taking the same class as they can’t get enough of each other, holding hands lovingly. I wanted someone to hold me and hug me at that moment too. I needed someone to hug me and tell me all will be okay. But I had no one to do so and I was all alone. Some students walked by in groups talking animatedly and I felt invisible and useless.

Some passed by looking silent and lost into their own thoughts to notice my miserable self seated there with my hands folded into myself scared and nervous. Some just had freaky faces that spelled bully, some had “interesting” accents that I couldn’t understand. Some students parted their lips with a slight smile to acknowledge me but did not stop to say hello so I got all the more confused. I wondered why one can smile at another and not stop to at least say a verbal hello. Why smile in the first place and what purpose is such a smile? I desperately needed someone to talk to and I was beginning to get angry at those smiles as they reflected a mockery of my situation. To calm down my senses, I took time to awe at the magnificent brown buildings that looked as old as education itself, the beautifully manicured lawns and once in a while was fascinated by the situation albeit the nervousness of what the future was for me at the University of Denver.

Now while seated there, I was contemplating many things. But I do not quite understand where to begin neither did I know what my options are. I felt lost, lonely and desperate. I do not know how long I sat there, but at some instant moment, I remembered my family and my mother’s embrace at the airport. I wondered what my family was doing and what they could be talking about as I sat there on the Penrose Library stair wells feeling lost and needing someone who could hear my story and help. What if they knew that they just bid me goodbye to a land where no one would help me? What if this was the end of my life? What if they knew that their bold first born child that always found a way out of issues is now lost in a foreign country? What if they knew that I felt empty ? I wept. I cried. Afraid to attract any unnecessary attention, I slowly rose up and lazily walked back to the Mr. and Mrs. Duffy’s house that I now called home. At least I had paid rent until the 15th of September, after which the likelihood of being thrown out and becoming homeless was slowly becoming a reality.

Meanwhile I still had at least three weeks to decide what to do and also plan on how the 100 dollars could keep me surviving for the remaining three weeks that I had a rental room at the Duffy’s family basement. In the 30 minutes walk, I remembered my grandfather’s advice that while you are lost, seek inside for directions. Yeah right grandpa! What has seeking inside got to do with this situation I am now in? I argued.



What’s the possibility of getting a tuition waiver or scholarship considering I am foreign student from Kenya and not sure if I had time to apply for any such help? What would the faculty say to me if they realized that I had no tuition to pay for my classes albeit the fact that I had indicated on my application forms that I had enough money to pay for my tuition? Would that be considered a lie? How can I explain that I had to tell them I had money so that I get the admission and how does that reflect on me? What if I wrote to the faculty and remind them that my country of Kenya is a big friend and ally of United States and on that basis they should give me a scholarship? Yeah, that’s sounded stupid and lightly ridiculous at best. Oh, what if I just went to the faculty seeking a meeting with the Financial Director and ask her to pay for my school tuition and I would work for her in return? Great! I could not as the law prohibited any one on a student visa to accept a job unless authorized to do so by the immigration department, at least you could work on campus for 8 dollars an hour for 10 hrs a week. Great! that’s 80 dollars a week! 400 dollars a month! Weep! weep! weep!

The faculty would not allow me to register for classes paying 80 dollars a week, besides, what would I have to eat out of that 80 dollars. At that moment, I was slowly giving up and losing hope of being able to make it in America. I was indeed lost and hopeless. I kept walking passed the Duffy’s house. I wanted to keep on waking to nowhere. It felt soothing and at least calming. So I kept on waking.

I came across a group of kids laughing out loud and chasing each other at a small park across the other end of University Boulevard couple miles from the University grounds. I stopped and watched them. I wished I could be them. For a moment I was transported back to my childhood days and I felt a surge of renewed hope. In that moment something stirred up inside of me. I was not about to give up. I had to come up with a daring solution. Just like the carefree laughter of the children I felt like a child needing help. And all I had to do is talk to someone about my situation. I had to.

Remembering my mothers hugs and tears, my grand fathers words of “fight like a soldier who knows what she fights for”, I had to strike a balance of the situation with every ounce of my spirituality and being knowing that this was a battle for my life. I had to fight for my life. I had to fight my American dream. And just like my grandpa’s “ soldier who knows what she fights for” I knew I had to fight for me. It felt like being called to get out of yourself, travel into the higher dimension within you and seek in there. It’s like being transported in an instant moment to an outer space within me, out of here but within here kind of feeling, if you know what I mean. I felt a whole surge of energy lift me up. Some inner inaudible but clear soft whisper that kept on telling me that I can go beyond what was happening and what I was feeling overwhelmed me. I choose to be an ambassador of my situation and communicate to someone else boldly without the fear of consequences. You see, truth sometimes is a good boat across a rough ferry bridge.

I began realizing that lot of students that got the same opportunity as me came from varied backgrounds and yet I was the same as them by virtue of my academic competitiveness unless I chose not to see it that way. I knew I can not let my people down. I couldn’t be a quitter. I knew I could not be timid and I had to boldly face my situation with truth. We are all kind of the same and yet that sameness becomes more beautiful when we are not afraid of what makes us different, unique and like our own self. I thought I am the same too with all those students I saw registering for classes only different and with a unique situation that deserved to be heard by someone.

I couldn’t afford to be timid or afraid of whoever is big out there, I’ve always been a person that’s a little bit unique in my thinking since childhood, in a way. I’m not quite a follower, I’m a leader of my own self. And this was a moment to prove my bold believe in self. You see, the universe works in a way that we don’t understand but there must be something about me in the damn universe that I had to find out what it is. I was about to reveal to someone that I had no money but I had to be at the Joseph Korbel School of International Studies of the University of Denver. I had to discover the mystery that is me.

I’m intrigued by mystery, I’m a devout Christian, and I like to balance spirituality with all situations that befall me. So a combination of my fascination and curiosity to find the unknown and my faith in spiritual intervention, I walked slowly back home just in time for dinner with the Duffy family. It was a Friday and I knew that Mr. and Mrs. Duffy are usually home early. I just thought I will break the news during dinner time. The conversation went something like this: Good evening guys? Oh..Hi…nice jacket you have on Mr. Duffy...hey…ahh…oh….anyway…ahhhh…well..Mr. ..well duffy and Stella, ahh..I Was wondering whether I can talk to you? Sure, Mr. Duffy responds. Well, you see….ahh. It’s kind of complicated…a bit insane…you see I will not be able to pay rent for next month and was also wondering whether you would be willing to pay for my first semester in school and I will re-pay you back as soon as I get a job….ahhh..pleaseee!pleaseeee! Ahh..I Know it’s insane. But please hear me out. I couldn’t believe what I was telling my host family. I shifted an intense nervous sheepish goofy look straight into Mr. Duffy’s wife, Miss Stella’s eyes and then stared straight back into Mr. Duffy’s eyes and hoped he could say something no matter what that something was.

I also thought I must be insane but felt a sigh of relieve that finally I have let them know my situation without caring what the consequences would be. Would they throw me out of the house? Would they call police on me for failure to pay rent? Would they call the university from which I was referred to them and demand that I be kicked out into the cold Denver nights? Would they not talk to me and ban me from their kitchen banishing me to the damn basement? What? What?
While my mind is speeding up with “what ifs”….there followed a heart wringing loudly deafening silence for a long one minute that seemed to be an eternity. No one spoke for a long while. The only sound was the sound of spoons, knifes and folks as everyone dug more servings from the salad bowl in the middle of the dining table and the occasional barking from Bagel the family dog and baby as he begged for bites. I can’t explain how much salad and corn on the cob I ate that evening as that’s the only thing I did to keep my embarrassment at bay and at least occupy myself while I awaited for my fate at the Duffy’s house.

I wanted the earth to open and swallow me leaving no trace of me anywhere on this miserable damn earth. And just like that, that Mr. Duffy breaks the silence by humming some inaudible song or whispers that scared the living day light out of me. He seemed to be humming a gospel hymn or something close to it. Perhaps he was humming a song whose lyrics had something to do with “how crazy can this Kenyan be and how crazily daring is her immigration to the united states? Or perhaps he might have been thinking “oh poor tribal girl from Kenya, how lucky it’s us that you chose for a host family otherwise elsewhere they would kick your damn black bottom and tell you to go die deep into the African jungle you came from! Damn! Damn you.

I could not make out what he was humming about but I knew for sure the song had something about how crazy I must be to assume that I can move to America, ask for free accommodation and then have the audacity to ask for school tuition! Damn! I can be daring. Quite the audacity to live and audacity to seek help even among perfect strangers. Damn, I thought of myself. But what’s wrong with being daring?

To cut a long story short, Mr. Duffy and his wife recovered from the shock of what I just told them. He lifts his weight off the chair and walks slowly to the kitchen. Pulls out a drawer that had a small booklet. Flips through the pages and fishes out a number. He points at the number and looks at me, gathers my right hand and holds it tight but tenderly, pulls his chair close to me, smiles with a friendly attitude on his face and says…”well, Alice, I don’t think that I can pay for your tuition babe. I just cannot. But I tell you what we can do, do not worry about rent at all. You will pay us rent when you get money. You do not have to worry for food; we have plenty in this house for all of us including Bagel the dog and family baby”. And so, my dear Kenyan friend, he continues his monologue.
What you need to do is take this number and write it down. It’s the number for a woman named Karen Middleton. She is the Financial Director and international students Co-coordinator at Joseph Korbel School of international studies at DU. Okay, Are you with me? I am now trembling, shaking and my skin covered with conspicuously goose bumps from no where. I raise my head from the ground that I had been staring at all this time, looked up and said. Yes, Mr. Duffy. I get that. “Now, what you need to do is go to sleep and then tomorrow morning I will drive you to see Miss Karen Middleton and you MUST tell her what you just told me. Okay, goodnight and see you in the morning 8Am American time! I could not dare be late.
I wanted to rise up and hug both of them. I wanted to scream with joy and praise God for such kind people and for their understanding welcome to their home albeit my disastrous situation and almost daring believe in them. I wanted to ask God to make them into millionaires and to give them eternal health and beauty in the whole state of Colorado. I wanted to cry with joy but neither of all these could explain how grateful I was at Mr. Duffy’s words.
That night I barely slept a single wink. I stayed up for most part of the night staring into the roof, wondering and pondering on possibilities and what will happen at the meeting with the lady, Karen Middleton. The name was synonymous with the person in whose hands my life depended. I was quite a nervous wreck.
By morning I was awakened from dreamland by the sounds of Bagel barking as Stella opened the front porch to let him out for his biological functions. I took a quick shower and walked upstairs to find Mr. Duffy already and set to go. We had very little to talk about but he seemed to be so concerned. I saw him and thought of the father I have never had. Al this time wondering what my life would have been like if we had a father that truly loved us and never abandoned us. I wondered whether that’s what it feels like to have your father at your side on your first trip to college.

I was teary eyed for many reasons but on that morning I felt loved and cared for albeit not knowing what awaited me ahead. We rode for the less than ten minutes ride to the admissions department at Denver University school of International studies straight onto Karen Middleton’s office. We all talked for awhile. Mr. Duffy filled her in on my difficulties and financial situation while informing her that him and his wife had decided not to charge me any rent and would let me live there for a while as I figured out my situation. Then he excused himself and left the room planting a friendly pat on my back and winked at me with re-assurance. I explained to her my entire situation reminding her of my academic prowess and capabilities. I knew this is my moment to shine if I would have to get a chance.



She pulled out from her drawer what was my file containing signed documents I had sent while in Nairobi. Took a moment to review all of the application forms and associated correspondences leading to my admission. Then she raised her head up and without asking any questions looked me and said to me “Well, well, Alice, there is a wonderful Program at Joseph Korbel School of International studies, formerly GSIS, sponsored by a very compassionate, generous and quite amazing wealthy woman, her name is Mrs patterson whose foundation donates money towards the education of bright, talented and promising international students especially women from developing countries. The goal of this program is to expand the university of Denver student diversity.

We have found it quite rewarding as we seem to be attracting the best students from all over the world. You see, she continued…ahhh, well, It s the pride of this school to see most of our students graduate from this school, well equipped to go back to their countries and change lifes over there. Its surely great”. We are all connected and this school is surely working its mission to incorporate a global agenda in its curriculum. And that includes have a certain amount of money set aside for students like you Alice. I will be glad to write you a letter of recommendation and speak to the dean about your case but to be honest, Alice, I think that the best thing that you could do is to write a personal letter to the office of admissions and to Mrs. Patterson foundation. Tell them what you told me. Just speak from your heart. That will give you as good as any chance at getting accepted at the University of Denver. Again I think Iam impressed with your grades and perhaps we can as well give you a chance.

Now at this point I am pinching myself to ensure that I am not dreaming or hallucinating. I cannot explain the enormous joy that lay stuck inside my chest. I wanted to burst out with a native dance and ululations. I wanted to shout and praise and praise and halleluiah and do all the global Amen’s…..So you get the picture? Anyway Karen then sets an appointment where I had to meet with the dean and some other faculty members to discuss my case and see whether I would qualify for the Patterson Fellowship and tuition waiver on Books tore and library facilities. I did have the meeting. I wrote the letter explaining all that I have narrated above. And yes. They deemed me a competitive candidate for the fellowship based on merit and my academic scores on my GRE AND GMAT testing evaluations. Viola! Two weeks later I received a life changing letter that read like this…..
Dear Alice Kariuki,
Congratulations on your scholarship and admission to the Joseph Korbel School of International Studies of the University of Denver. We wish you well and a smooth settling in to the rocky mountains and at the Denver community…………….welcome....

Let me say the rest is history. The letter changed my life. I am proud to say that this wonderful Rocky mountains great great University gave me a chance. They gave me a chance to freedom. They believed in me planting a permanent love and faith in the angelic nature of even the perfect strangers that cross our paths. Perfect strangers who seem to be angels walking on earth. For those students seeking admission into a perfect university, those pursuing interests in policy advocacy, international business, trade, philanthropic management, this is the school to apply to. A great mid west school that gives chance and also kindly caters to students with academic promise but who lack the financial resources to pay for a college education. University of Denver is my very own alma mater. Two years later I walked proudly to receive my masters degree certificate that gave me an academic badge that read something like this:
Alice Kariuki:
Masters of Arts
International Trade & Sustainable Development; M.P.A Public Health
The Joseph Korbel School of International Studies; University of Denver, Colorado

B.A [Creative writing & Linguistics, English Literature & Sociology }
Kenyatta University Nairobi, Kenya.

Talking to ourselves Stories for self reflection:

This is the the easy-to-use self-help program offered by this website. It is a collection of short stories that form a safe, incredibly simple, user-friendly tool for personal transformation. By simply reading our stories, a person’s energy is influenced through the exchange of subtle energies between the holographic worlds of the stories and the vibrating heart and mind of the reader. This program is a unique adventure into the exciting new realms of personal mythology, sacred positive psychology and mirror neurons. It brings forth the natural abilities of the soul to transform, navigate, and create inner reality.



These transformational stories are designed to gently expand the reader’s internal imagery, feelings and beliefs in highly positive and benevolent directions. This process reveals and unlocks the orchestrated fields of awareness that are native to the soul as it pulses into creation from the quantum center of the Universe ... through your own quiet center of stillness, within.

The simple purpose behind this program is to help the reader shift to more harmonious states of being. Such intimate, often outwardly-invisible transformations are significant achievements for any individual. They are also the necessary forerunners to providing a sheltered womb for the incubation of a grand and precious dream ... a dream of wholeness so profound that it transcends our present life and this world. Encoded within these stories is the essence of a remarkable vision — not only of you, but of humanity’s future as well.

Personal journeys to the foundation of harmony

Personal journeys to the foundation of harmony




The stories in this project serve as energetic maps to help guide readers as they journey to new theaters of harmonic inner experience. And, you will learn in the sections that follow — a person's inner experience is a dynamic and powerful incubator for the experiences unfolding around them in the physical world.



The first 5 stories now available — — are designed to help people who feel they are emotionally, psychologically or energetically stuck on certain issues. Each story has an Issues Target that explains several issues. A story is designed to help the reader become free of the energies that its Issues Target describes.



Even though each of our stories are focused on specific issues, immersion with a story casts a wide influence over the energy and holographic make-up within the reader. Engaging with a story consistently for a month, as suggested in the Reading Instructionsmay also assist people who are stuck in feelings and inner spaces that are only slightly related to the central issue that the story is designed to help



This is the type of dream in which she realizes that she is dreaming. “How incredible! — Amazingly realistic!” she thinks.



To her surprise, as she looks through the branches and down the trunk, she sees herself laying against the trunk, appearing to be fast asleep. She is transfixed in wonder at this sight. In this dream, she’s a conscious entity at the top of the tree — an entity separate from her physical body. In fact, she seems somehow to have blended into the tree itself. But anything can happen in a dream, so why not? The feeling is safe and grounded, yet atmospheric, saturated with peace and beautiful clarity. Her mind is utterly at rest, blissfully still. She realizes that this experience may be a dream, but it does not take away from what she’s experiencing.



The woman makes a mental note to keep this dream going as long as possible, and to make sure to recall EVERYTHING about the dream when she awakens.



She settles into the dream awareness and finds herself calmly closing her eyes and floating with the experience in the crown of the tree. When she opens her eyes she still finds herself as a functionally aware center of consciousness at the top of the tree. She has, in fact, become the tree itself, and feels what it is like to be such a noble, ancient oak — utterly calm. The tree actually seems to be in a continual state of serenity. For once in her life she feels what it is like to totally accept life as it is. Not only accept it, but enjoy it ... to feel a part of her surroundings: the grass, the houses, the birds, the air, the other trees that stretch up the hillsides and all through the valleys.



Soon the woman can feel her body stirring and knows that she is about to return to her waking state.



As her eyes flutter open in her physical body she instantly remembers the fantastic dream of being up in the tree and of being the tree itself. She quickly goes to the house and with every step she takes, she does her best to recall everything about the dream. Once in the house she starts recording her dream. Everything flows nicely onto the page which locks the amazing experience into her full, conscious awareness.



The dream captivates her attention: “What in the world happened here? This was cosmic ... supernatural ... unbelievable. But it’s just a dream and so there is nothing to believe or disbelieve about it. Yet — how marvelous!”



The woman can’t take her mind off the dream and what it is like to actually have experienced being the tree’s awareness and her own awareness at the same time. She thinks about the tree and the wonder of it’s existence. She remembers how her mind was so utterly calm when she was a fully conscious part of the tree. She loved the feelings of the tree and she recognized how it felt in it’s raw, native presence — always empty but so complete. Grounded, solid, but light as a feather ... able to bend in the wind and be a welcome home for birds, animals and the people below.



She knows she wants more of that experience, so she keeps recalling the memories of the dream and contemplating everything about it: every detail, every feeling, every sight and sound. She truly becomes absorbed in the dream and especially loves the feeling of being lost in its wonder.



Over the days and weeks that follow, she finds herself drawn to the tree. Somehow, even with her busy schedule, she allows time and space to think about the tree and actually spends time under its great branches. With the purest sense of excitement, passion and intention, she sits in the exact same place as before, and tries to rest and fall asleep, just like in her original dream experience.



She has some success with this. She can’t tell if her new experiences with the tree are just imagination, or in fact, are lucid dreams ... but it does not seem to matter.



What matters is that she is able to visualize herself up in the tree again and again. She can be the tree and look out over her house and the neighborhood. The tree’s stillness and serenity become hers. Eventually the woman finds it easy to dream about being the tree ... to let herself go into the energy and feeling of the tree. This is truly a first-hand, visionary, here-and-now experience for her.



Over the months, this becomes her new, core spiritual experience. She spends a lot of time contemplating the tree and actually picturing herself in its crown, and seeing life through their shared awareness. She learns that the tree is a great lover. It loves the birds that fly into and sing in its branches. It loves her family, her child, the people walking on the sidewalks. It loves hearing the voices of people, the animals and insects echoing among its leaves and branches. It loves to feel the wind pick up and make its mighty branches sway. The tree, (and now, the woman, too), loves hearing the symphony of leaves rustle in the breeze. At night the tree looks to the stars and planets moving in the cosmos, and feels a supreme connection to All That Is.



The feelings the woman gets while being the tree, is enough to make her cry, and tears often well up in her eyes just by recalling these experiences.



Over time the woman realizes that the energy of the tree is something that she has translated and absorbed into her own energy field. She has quietly integrated into her own consciousness the feeling, awareness, the strength and wisdom of the ancient oak. It happened naturally — without any effort on her part. She finds her life vastly more meaningful ... her mind is no longer possessed with trivia. She now is thinking about Life itself, and is intimately involved with its movement, acceptance, and awareness.



As the months pass, the transformation of the woman is profound. The noble oak has changed her life through and through.



She soon realizes that she does not need to add an office to the garage, and especially does not need to expand the driveway. The tree is far more important and valuable than such business considerations. She would never do anything to hurt her tree, the tree which has given her so much.



And at a nearby animal shelter, Clara found a cat that she seemed to have a special connection with. They brought it home and it is now an important part of the family. The woman realizes that all along, her daughter knew that a cat would be good for her spirit. Though Clara could not voice it, she intuitively knew that a cat would help her stay connected to the feeling heart at the core of her being and be nourishing to her unique energy, thoughts and dreams. Clara’s cat is like the woman’s beloved tree ... the cat helps her daughter realign with her original, true nature.



The woman stops forcing her daughter to grow up and follow her adult-generated schedules and expectations, or to adopt her personal points of view. She allows Clara to return to being a child, and grow at her own pace. Clara and her cat instantly flow into an exceptional state of balance and harmony that is a wonder to behold.



As the years pass and the woman grows more and more comfortable with having a quiet mind, a new talent unfolds from the deepest part of herself. She is not surprised as she could feel it coming. Her new ability flowers into a career path as the purpose of her life is revealed. It turns out that the woman has a natural propensity for nursing and becomes a highly skilled and compassionate nurse. Her forte is caring for the very young as well as the very old. These two groups are attracted to her like a moth to a flame ... or we should say, like a bird to its nest.



The woman fully integrates her experiences with the tree and translates the care, serenity and love that is the very essence of the tree, into her own life.



Calm, delicious feelings of gratitude flow through her as she knows that she is truly connected — connected with her family, the patients in her care, the tree and with the entire Grand Universe. The woman now clearly senses that everything is unified and whole … just as it should be.

Stories of transformation and self reflection

Stories for calling for self reflection:

This is the the easy-to-use self-help program offered by this website. It is a collection of short stories that form a safe, incredibly simple, user-friendly tool for personal transformation. By simply reading our stories, a person’s energy is influenced through the exchange of subtle energies between the holographic worlds of the stories and the vibrating heart and mind of the reader. This program is a unique adventure into the exciting new realms of personal mythology, sacred positive psychology and mirror neurons. It brings forth the natural abilities of the soul to transform, navigate, and create inner reality.

These transformational stories are designed to gently expand the reader’s internal imagery, feelings and beliefs in highly positive and benevolent directions. This process reveals and unlocks the orchestrated fields of awareness that are native to the soul as it pulses into creation from the quantum center of the Universe ... through your own quiet center of stillness, within.

The simple purpose behind this program is to help the reader shift to more harmonious states of being. Such intimate, often outwardly-invisible transformations are significant achievements for any individual. They are also the necessary forerunners to providing a sheltered womb for the incubation of a grand and precious dream ... a dream of wholeness so profound that it transcends our present life and this world. Encoded within these stories is the essence of a remarkable vision — not only of you, but of humanity’s future as well.

Stories of wisdom.Stories that teach

THE RED AND BLUE COAT


Author: unknown

Once there were two boys who were great friends, and they were determined to remain that way forever. When they grew up and got married, they built their houses facing one another. There was a small path that formed a border between their farms. One day, a trickster from the village decided to play a trick on them. He dressed himself in a two-color coat that was divided down the middle. So, one side of the coat was red, and the other side was blue.
The trickster wore this coat and walked along the narrow path between the houses of the two friends. They were each working opposite each other in their fields. The trickster made enough noise as he passed them to make sure that each of them would look up and see him passing. At the end of the day, one friend said to the other, "Wasn't that a beautiful red coat that man was wearing today?"

"No", the other replied. "It was a blue coat."
"I saw the man clearly as he walked between us!" said the first, "His coat was red."



"You are wrong!" said the other man, "I saw it too, and it was blue."



"I know what I saw!" insisted the first man. "The coat was red!"



"You don't know anything," the second man replied angrily. "It was blue!"



They kept arguing about this over and over, insulted each other, and eventually, they began to beat each other and roll around on the ground.



Just then, the trickster returned and faced the two men, who were punching and kicking each other and shouting, "Our friendship is OVER!"



The trickster walked directly in front of them, and showed them his coat. He laughed at their silly fight. The two friends saw this his coat was red on one side and blue on the other.



The two friends stopped fighting and screamed at the trickster saying, "We have lived side by side like brothers all our lives, and it is all your fault that we are fighting. You have started a war between us."



"Don't blame me for the battle," replied the trickster. "I did not make you fight. Both of you are wrong, and both of you are right. Yes, what each one saw was true. You are fighting because you only looked at my coat from your own point of view."





WHY WISDOM IS EVERYWHERE

Author: unknown

A long time ago, Anansi the spider, had all the wisdom in the world stored in a huge pot. Nyame, the sky god, had given it to him. Anansi had been instructed to share it with everyone.



Every day, Anansi looked in the pot, and learned different things. The pot was full of wonderful ideas and skills.



Anansi greedily thought, "I will not share the treasure of knowledge with everyone. I will keep all the wisdom for myself."



So, Anansi decided to hide the wisdom on top of a tall tree. He took some vines and made some strong string and tied it firmly around the pot, leaving one end free. He then tied the loose end around his waist so that the pot hung in front or him.



He then started to climb the tree. He struggled as he climbed because the pot of wisdom kepts getting in his way, bumping against his tummy.



Anansi's son watched in fascination as his father struggled up the tree. Finally, Anansi's son told him "If you tie the pot to your back, it will be easier to cling to the tree and climb."



Anansi tied the pot to his back instead, and continued to climb the tree, with much more ease than before.



When Anansi got to the top of the tree, he became angry. "A young one with some common sense knows more than I, and I have the pot of wisdom!"



In anger, Anansi threw down the pot of wisdom. The pot broke, and pieces of wisdom flew in every direction. People found the bits scattered everywhere, and if they wanted to, they could take some home to their families and friends.



That is why to this day, no one person has ALL the world's wisdom. People everywhere share small pieces of it whenever they exchange ideas.

The power of words

The power of words. Maya Angelou on words..human beings are more alike than they are unlike Inspiring, touching and creating with words….She was speaking on CBS about empty nooses1

My idea of success

Ever wondered what we work for? whats success? join in the debate. There are so many definitions of success just as there are many people. For me, success is seeing people overturn negative prognoses, bad situations into great situation, moving from poverty to comfortable decent life, success is fighting poverty and ignorance; success is about family and anchoring the institution of family as the unit that matters most in building a worthy society. Success to me is appreciating what we have and living within our means.






--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



It is also seeing people overcome the negative talk they may receive from those around them that want them to fail in order to feel better about themselves. Success is helping people avoid listening to lies that will keep them down and sabotage them, and doing this helps make America still a land of opportunity and great nation on earth.















My ultimate success would be to see the end of all forms of abuse, an end to waste and an increase of good stewardship around the world; and for me, to live an often-examined life, continue to learn new information, meet new friends and enrich current relationships, and contribute to a better quality of life for us all.









I think success is not fame nor lots of money, but other priceless possessions of grace and joyous living. However we all know that in America, success is often seen as winning some type of competition in a sporting event, a contest, a line of work - achieving the top of the ladder in a particular field of employment, winning the Lottery, retiring from work with enough money to travel the world etc.









Unfortunately, in a society seemingly rife with violence, emotional, social, verbal and physical abuse, and other mental health issues, success for some individuals also means hurting someone else. The perpetrator sees this harm as "winning" in some sort of competition, game or battle that is sometimes waged only in his or her own head.









Well, I think in order for you to understand my view of success, it would be important to highlight some unhealthy success as I have observed in the modern day setting. Examples like what I call “out doing others success”. This may involve out doing someone else at school, at work, at home, anywhere. In other words, it’s keeping up with the Joneses”. Having as nice as or better than, the neighbor's lawn, trees, dishes, aluminum siding, etc. A little of this can be fun, but now it's become much more vindictive and can lead to people shooting one another in order to take their Starter jackets and Nike shoes.









Remember the road rage success? Making sure you rev your engine and streak out ahead of everyone else at a traffic light when it turns green. In grocery stores, this take the form of people smashing into you with their loaded grocery carts in order to get ahead of you in the checkout line.









“Them” versus “us” success? Since discrimination stems from fear and lack of knowledge, it makes the perpetrator feel safe and "better" that the target group of the discrimination. It is success to the person exercising it, but it is truly unhealthy. This includes name calling toward, and laughing at, minority groups, or anyone that is "different."









I eat only the best food success - using credit cards to purchase and flaunt expensive foods to your roommates, neighbors or whoever in order to make them feel poor. It doesn't matter if you have to declare bankruptcy - you made them feel bad and that's a win. Note: anyone who plays games with food, sex, or money should is not really successful. But that’s one woman’s opinion.









I married the best even though I hate him/her success?









How many people do you know that are in dead end empty shell marriages and relationships but will stay to keep the status? By staying in the relationships they feel successful. I know a lot. This is staying with an abusive or addictive partner in the belief that your relationship or your love will change that person for the better. Staying no matter what can be an erosion of your mind and spirit.









The American Dream" - a business of one's own or a good job, a house, two cars and a family. This is great if some good planning is put forth first. While the Dream is applicable in the 21st century, the thing to avoid is mortgage debt and credit card/other debt that is so high that it will destroy the Dream. How can you be successful while suffocating in debt even though superficially you flaunt success in terms of cars, houses that you virtually own?









In the end, the real success lies in what will be written on your epitaph way after you are gone out of your body.