A rose longed for the company of the bees, but none would come to her.
Even so, the flower was still capable of dreaming. When she felt all alone, she would imagi ne a garden filled with bees that came to kiss her. And so she managed to resist until the next day, when she opened her petals again.
“Aren’t you tired?” another rose asked her.
“No. I have to go on fighting.”
“Why?”
“Because if I don’t open up, I wither.”
:)
....................
well Beautiful text but sad to think the only thing a ..rose.. hopes for is to be touched by a bee.
The existence of the rose,with all it’s beauty and simplicity,is more than enough.
Poem by Robert Frost (1874–1963).
TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Does this happen to you too? Do you feel lost in the fog of many identities? I do. And sometimes I feel suffocated. Gasping for air, I want to go to wild open spaces with just myself for company. But then who am I? Who is the real me? I'm so many people that I don't know who I really am.
Sometimes I'm a friend, (a keeper of dark secrets, giggling idiot,clown, teacher, storyteller, bully, cook, tyrant), sometimes a son, (rebellious, obedient) , a co-worker (amicable, moody, efficient?, skilled?), a boss (supportive, protective, not a good teacher, not very patient), a brother (organisor of events, bearer of good/bad news, punching bag), a home maker (eternally cleaning up the mess!)...
So what happens to ME when I'm stripped of all these identities? Then I do not know who I am. Do I exist outside of all this? Is there really a ME out there? Shouldn't there really be a ME? Or not? Am I being foolish asking these questions? I don't know.
Like a stage actor, I don a mask and I play my role. I switch roles with ease. Mindlessly I laugh, talk, work... But suddenly I feel choked. By the love of people around me. By their trust in me. By the many roles I'm expected to play. By the implicit belief that I can do what everyone expects of me. But these expectations scare me. I fear I cannot live up to them. Worse, I do not want to live up to them. Why am I being moulded by other people's expectations of ME? What about my own expectations of ME? Jeez do I have any expectations out of myself at all? I do not even know that. How am I supposed to find out? These relationships have fogged my brain. I cannot think beyond them. I want to move out. Yet I'm afraid. What if there really is no ME...
Oh dear,The fog refuses to clear.
When I look in the mirror
Who will I see?
A friend, a son, a co worker
Or ME?
So many masks wait for me
I wear them one by one
If a mask is ripped off
Will the real ME come undone?
I need to look for ME
Things I need to find
But the fog is so heavy
It makes me blind
Oh dear, oh dear
Why does this fog refuse to clear?
(Veronika decides to die)
A powerful wizard, who wanted to destroy an entire kingdom, placed a magic potion in the well from which all the inhabitants drank. Whoever drank that water would go mad.
The following morning, the whole population drank from the well and they all went mad, apart from the king and his family, who had a well set aside for them alone, which the magician had not managed to poison.
The king was worried and tried to control the population by issuing a series of edicts governing security and public health.
The policemen and inspectors, however, had also drunk the poisoned water, and they thought the king’s decisions were absurd and resolved to take no notice of them.
When the inhabitants of the kingdom heard these decrees, they became convinced that the king had gone mad and was now giving nonsensical orders. They marched on the castle and called for his abdication.
In despair the king prepared to step down from the throne, but the queen stopped him, saying:
‘Let us go and drink from the communal well. Then we will be the same as them.’
The king and the queen drank the water of madness and immediately began talking nonsense.
Their subjects repented at once; now that the king was displaying such wisdom, why not allow him to continue ruling the country?
Why men love women (taken from http://paulocoelhoblog.com)
We men love women because they still feel they are adolescents even after they grow old.
Because they smile every time they pass a child.
Because they walk down the street erect, always looking straight ahead, never turning round to say thanks or return the smile or compliment we make when they pass by.
Because they are bold in bed, not because they have a perverse nature but because they want to please us.
Because they don’t complain about the sacrifices they make for the sake of the ideal of beauty, facing up to waxers, Botox injections and menacing machines in gyms.
Because they prefer to eat salads.
Because they draw and paint their faces with the same concentration as Michelangelo working on the Sistine Chapel.
Because if they want to know something about their own appearance, they ask other women and don’t bother us with this type of question.
Because they have their own ways of solving problems, which we never understand, and that makes us mad.
Because they feel compassion, and say “I love you” precisely when they are beginning to love us less, to make up for what we can feel and notice.
Because sometimes they complain about things that we feel too, such as colds and rheumatic pains, and then we understand that they are people just like us.
Because while our armies invade other countries, they remain firm in their private and inexplicable war to put an end to all the cockroaches in the world.
Because they are capable of going to work dressed like men, in their delicate little suits, whereas no man would ever dare go to work wearing a skirt.
Because in the movies – and only in the movies – they never take a shower before making love with their partners.
Because they always manage to find a convincing defect when we say that another woman is pretty, making us feel insecure about our taste. (So true!!!)
Because they manage to fake orgasms with the same artistic quality as the most famous and talented of movie stars.
Because they just love exotic cocktails with different colors and delicate little ornaments, while we always have the same old whiskey.
Because they don’t waste hours thinking about how they are going to approach the pretty young man who has just come on the bus.
Because we came from them, will go back to them, and until that happens, live in orbit around the feminine body and soul.
(And I would add: we men love them for being women. As simple as that).
Because they write poems, songs, and books in our honor.
Because they never understand us, but they never give up.
Because they can see beauty in women when women have long ceased to see any beauty in themselves.
Because they come from little boys.
Because they can churn out long, intricate, Machiavellian, or incredibly complex mathematics and physics equations, but they can be comparably clueless when it comes to women.
Because they are incredible lovers and never rest until we’re happy.
Because they elevate sports to religion.
Because they’re never afraid of the dark.
Because they don’t care how they look or if they age.
Because they persevere in making and repairing things beyond their abilities, with the naïve self-assurance of the teenage boy who knew everything.
Because they never wear or dream of wearing high heels.
Because they’re always ready for sex.
Because they’re like pomegranates: lots of inedible parts, but the juicy seeds are incredibly tasty and succulent and usually exceed your expectations.
Because they’re afraid to go bald.
Because you always know what they think and they always mean what they say.
Because they love machines, tools, and implements with the same ferocity women love jewelry.
Because they go to great lengths to hide, unsuccessfully, that they are frail and human.
Because they either speak too much or not at all to that end.
Because they always finish the food on their plate.
Because they are brave in front of insects and mice.
Because a well-spoken four-year old girl can reduce them to silence, and a beautiful 25-year old can reduce them to slobbering idiots.
Because they want to be either omnivorous or ascetic, warriors or lovers, artists or generals, but nothing in-between.
Because for them there’s no such thing as too much adrenaline.
Because when all is said and done, they can’t live without us, no matter how hard they try.
Because they’re truly as simple as they claim to be.
Because they love extremes and when they go to extremes, we’re there to catch them.
Because they are tender they when they cry, and how seldom they do it.
Because what they lack in talk, they tend to make up for in action.
Because they make excellent companions when driving through rough neighborhoods or walking past dark alleys.
Because they really love their moms, and they remind us of our dads.
Because they never care what their horoscope, their mother-in-law, nor the neighbors say.
Because they don’t lie about their age, their weight, or their clothing size.
Because they have an uncanny ability to look deeply into our eyes and connect with our heart, even when we don’t want them to.
Because when we say “I love you” they ask for an explanation.
A young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it.
But an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said,
“Your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine.”
The crowd and the young man looked at the old man’s heart. It was beating strongly but full of scars. It had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in … but they didn’t fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. The young man looked at the old man’s heart and laughed.
“You must be joking,” he said. “Compare your heart with mine … mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears.”
” “Yes,” said the old man, “Yours is perfect looking … but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love….. I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them … and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart but because the pieces aren’t exact, I have some rough edges.
“ Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away … and the other person hasn’t returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges … giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too … and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?”
The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man.
The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man’s heart.
It fit …. but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.
The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since lovefrom the old man’s heart flowed into his.
(taken from http://paulocoelhoblog.com)
So meaningful story.It makes me wonder how do others feel in reflection to my eyes....
People always see themselves reflected in others.
This reminds me of everything. I see her and
I see myself. The more I discover her, she is
like me the more I love her ..
I came across an Interesting theory about Soul mates( from book, brida ) :
“In certain reincarnations, we divide into two. Our souls divide as do crystals and stars, cells and plants.
Our souls divides in two, and those new souls are in turn transformed into two and so, within a few generations, we are scattered over a large part of Earth.
The truth is that if the Anima Mundi were merly to keep dividing, it would keep growing, but it would also become gradually weaker.
As well as dividing into two, we also find ourselves. And that process of finding ourselves is called Love. Because when a soul divides, it always divides into a male part and a female part.”
That's how the Book of Genesis explains it: the soul of Adam was split in two, and Eve was born out of him.
“In each life, we feel a mysterious obligation to find those Soulmate. The Greater Love that separated them feels pleased with the Love that brings them together again.”
“We can also allow our Soulmate to pass us by, without accepting him or her, or even noticing. Then we will need another incarnation in order to find that Soulmate. And because of our selfishness, we will be condemned to the worst torture humankind ever invented for itself: loneliness.”
The other day, I spoke to you about one of the great secrets of magic: the Soulmate. The whole of man’s life on the face of Earth can be summed up by that search for his Soulmate. He may pretend to be running after wisdom, money or power, but none of that matters. Whatever he achieves will be incomplete if he fails to find his Soulmate.
The more I understand myself, the more I will understand the world. And the closer I will be to my Soulmate
If you are my Soulmate, then:
I loved you even before we met , because you are part of me..
I will not love anyone more than i love you, because you are part of me..
and a small story:
A five years old girl was on the beach with her father, and he asked her to go and see what the temperature of the water was like. She was five years old and glad to be able to help. She went to the edge and dipped in a toe.
'I put my feet in and it's cold,' she told him.
Her father picked her up and carried her down to the water again and, without any warning, threw her in. She was shocked at first, but then laughed out loud at the trick he'd played.
'How's the water?' asked her father.
'It's lovely,' she replied.
'Right, from now on, whenever you want to find out about something, plunge straight in.'
And I am plunging myself straight into sea of water for finding out my Soulmate.
after talking with you.. i feel my soul rejoice..with faith in someone .. I feel a protective presence. i need to believe in this presence. i dont know how to explain but it exists.
I know that I could forget all stressful day and all fatigue of life in her arms only there in her arms could I close my eyes and sleep like a child.
ont un beau jour..
-avinash
