Take full responsibility for your life.
Stop blaming others.
See yourself as the cause of what happens to you.

Do things you like to do.
Don’t stay in a job you don’t like.
Participate in life at the highest level you can.

Stop terrorising yourself with your thoughts.
Be gentle and kind and patient with yourself.

Give yourself the simple pleasures of life abundantly.
Wear clothes you feel good in, get a massage etc.

Watch what you say. Avoid self put-downs.
Stop being critical of yourself and others.

Take care of your body.
Give it exercise and good food.

Be willing to create a life-style that generates and nourishes self-esteem.
Associate with others with high esteem.

Acknowledge yourself frequently.
Keep a diary of your successes and accomplishments.

Avoid comparing yourself with others.
Remember that it’s who we are, not what we do, that’s important

Give yourself permission to do nothing periodically.
Schedule time by yourself.

Frequently take deep breaths.
Discover the benefit and pleasure of breathing fully.

Eat first class frequently.
Don’t look at the right side of the menu.

Stop trying to change others.
Focus your attention on being the way you want others to be.

Look into a mirror regularly
and say “I love you, I really love you”.

Stop feeling guilty and saying “I’m sorry”.
See mistakes as valuable lessons and avoid judging yourself.

Consciously generate positive thoughts and feelings of self-love
in place of old thoughts of inadequacy.

Be willing to laugh at yourself and at life.
Stop taking yourself so seriously.

Accept compliments from others without embarrassment.
Don’t invalidate their positive thoughts and feelings about you.

Be kind to your mind.
Don’t hate yourself for having negative thoughts.
Gently change your thoughts.

Keep your awareness and your thoughts focussed in present time
instead of living in the past or future.

Acknowledge others frequently.
Tell them what you like and appreciate in them.

Invest money in yourself.
Go to seminars, workshops and courses that develop your talents.

Make a list of 10 things
you love doing and do them frequently.

Treat yourself as you would treat someone you really loved.

Praise yourself.

Author Unknown

Little girl and her father were crossing a bridge.
The father was kind of scared so he asked his little daughter,
“Sweetheart, please hold my hand so that you don’t fall into the
river.”
The little girl said, “No, Dad. You hold my hand.”
“What’s the difference?” Asked the puzzled father.
“There’s a big difference,” replied the little girl.

“If I hold your hand and something happens to me,
chances are that I may let your hand go.
But if you hold my hand, I know for sure that no matter what happens,
you will never let my hand go.”

In any relationship, the essence of trust is not in its bind, but in
its bond.

So hold the hand of the person who loves you rather than expecting
them to hold yours…

World famous purveyor of plastic footwear, Melissa has recently put on a good show outside the front of their ‘Galeria Melissa’ in São Paulo Brazil. Photographed step by step and performed by 25 animators in five months, the U-shaped foyer to the building was covered with about 350 thousand Post-It Notes and filmed in stop motion as part of a launch for their ‘Power of Love’ campaign. As an additional bonus, on-street observers shared more than 30,000 spontaneous messages of love on the notes.

via Visual News

NOTE: It is interesting how stories get passed around and undergo changes along the way until you no longer know if this really happened or just a writer’s creative imagination. Another email very similar to this story has also been around in circulation for a long time now. We published it in December 2008. We don’t know how many variations there are, either way, it creates an emotional stir to any first time reader.

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He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary’s School in Morris, Minnesota. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, he 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 instruction 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 their 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 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 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 recognize 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. I keep it 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 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, tell the people you love and care for that they are special and important. Tell them, before it is too late…

Once upon a time two brothers who lived on adjoining farms fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by side, sharing machinery, and trading labor and goods as needed without a hitch.

Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference, and finally it exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.

One morning there was a knock on John’s door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter’s toolbox. “I’m looking for a few days work” he said. “Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here and there I could help with? Could I help you?”

“Yes,” said the older brother. “I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm. That’s my neighbor, in fact, it’s my younger brother. “Last week there was a meadow between us and he took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek between us. Well, he may have done this to spite me, but I’ll give him one better. See that pile of lumber by the barn? I want you to build me a fence, an 8-foot fence, so I won’t need to see his place or his face anymore.”

The carpenter said, “I think I understand the situation. Show me the nails and the post-hole digger and I’ll be able to do a job that pleases you.”

The older brother had to go to town, so he helped the carpenter get the materials ready and then he was off for the day. The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring, sawing, nailing. About sunset when the farmer returned, the carpenter had just finished his job. The farmer’s eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped.

There was no fence there at all. It was a bridge — a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work — handrails and all — and the neighbor, his younger brother, was coming across, his hand outstretched.
“You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I’ve said and done.”

The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they met in the middle, taking each other’s hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his shoulder.

“No, wait! Stay a few days. I’ve a lot of other projects for you,” said the older brother. “I’d love to stay on,” the carpenter said, “but, I have many more bridges to build.”

- 0 -

KEEP THIS IN MIND:
God won’t ask what kind of car you drove;
He’ll ask how many people you drove who didn’t have transportation
God won’t ask the square footage of your house;
He’ll ask how many people you welcomed into your home.
God won’t ask about the clothes you had in your closet;
He’ll ask how many you helped to clothe.
God won’t ask about your social status;
He will ask what kind of class you displayed.
God won’t ask how many material possessions you had;
He’ll ask if they dictated your life.
God won’t ask what your highest salary was;
He’ll ask if you compromised your character to obtain it.
God won’t ask how much overtime you worked;
He’ll ask if your overtime work was for yourself or for your family.
God won’t ask how many promotions you received;
He’ll ask how you promoted others.
God won’t ask what your job title was;
He’ll ask if you performed that job to the best of your ability.
God won’t ask what you did to help yourself;
He’ll ask what you did to help others.
God won’t ask how many friends you had;
He’ll ask how many people to whom you were a friend.
God won’t ask what you did to protect your rights;
He’ll ask what you did to protect the rights of others.
God won’t ask in what neighborhood you lived;
He’ll ask how you treated your neighbors.
God won’t ask about the color of your skin;
He’ll ask about the content of your character.
God won’t ask how many times your deeds matched your words;
He’ll ask how many times they didn’t.
God won’t ask why it took you so long to seek Salvation;
He’ll lovingly take you to your mansion in heaven, and not to the gates of Hell.
God won’t ask how many people you forwarded this to;
He’ll ask if you were ashamed to pass it on to your friends.

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.

One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window.

The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end.
They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation.

Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind ‘s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days, weeks and months passed.

One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep. She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides t he bed.

It faced a blank wall..

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

She said, “Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.”

Epilogue:
There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations.

If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can’t buy.

“Today is a gift, that is why it is called The Present .”

The origin of this letter is unknown, but it brings good luck to everyone who passes it on.
Do not keep this letter.

Just forward it to your friends to whom you wish blessings.

Sometimes we just need to be reminded!

A well-known speaker started off his seminar by:
holding up a $20.00 bill In the room of 200, he asked,
“Who would like this $20 bill?”

Hands started going up.

He said, “I am going to give this $20 to one of you
but first, let me do this. He proceeded to crumple up the $20 dollar bill.

He then asked, “Who still wants it?”

Still the hands were up in the air.

Well, he replied, “What if I do this?”

And he dropped it on the ground

and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe.

He picked it up, now crumpled and dirty.

“Now, who still wants it?”

Still the hands went into the air.

My friends, we have all learned a
very valuable lesson.

No matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it
because it did not decrease in value.

It was still worth $20.

Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground
into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come
our way.

We feel as though we are worthless.
But no matter what has happened or
what will happen, you will never lose your value.

Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased,
you are still priceless to those who DO LOVE you.

The worth of our lives comes not in what we do or who we know,
but by WHO WE ARE and WHOSE WE ARE.

You are special

Don’t EVER forget it.

- 0 -

Count your blessings,
not your problems.

amateurs built the ark .

professionals
built the Titanic.

If God brings you to it -

He will bring you through it.

One day a farmer’s donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally he decided the animal was old and the well needed to be covered up anyway, it just wasn’t worth it to retrieve the donkey. He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone’s amazement, he quieted down.

A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well and was astonished at what he saw. With every shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up. As the farmer’s neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and trotted off!

Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a stepping stone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up! Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

1. Free your heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live simply.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less.

Life’s too short!!! Enjoy Your Life; SHAKE IT OFF!

A water bearer in China had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which he carried across his 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 a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you. I have been able to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don’t get full value from your efforts,” the pot said.

The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only 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’ve watered 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?

Moral: Each of us has our own unique flaws. We’re all cracked pots. But it’s the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You’ve just got to take each person for what they are, and look for the good in them. Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape. Remember to appreciate all the different people in your life. Don’t forget to send this mail to all worthy people. I did it.