The Power of Faith

Hello dear friends

Sharing with you a beautiful story!! It’s surely worth a read.
In the country of Armenia, in 1988, Samuel and Danielle sent their young son, Armand, off to school. Samuel squatted before his son and looked him in the eye. “Have a good day at school, and remember, no matter what, I’ll always be there for you.” They hugged and the boy ran off to school.
Hours later, a powerful earthquake rocked the area. In the midst of the pandemonium, Samuel and Danielle tried to discover what happened to their son but they couldn’t get any information. The radio announced that there were thousands of casualties.  Samuel then grabbed his coat and headed for the schoolyard. When he reached the area, what he saw brought tears to his eyes. Armand’s school was a pile of debris. Other parents were standing around crying.
Samuel found the place where Armand’s classroom used to be and began pulling a broken beam off the pile of rubble.  He then grabbed a rock and put it to the side, and then grabbed another one.
One of the parents looking on asked, “What are you doing?”   “Digging for my son,” Samuel answered. The man then said, “You’re just going to make things worse! The building is unstable,” and tried to pull Samuel away from his work.

Samuel just kept working. As time passes on, one by one, the other parents left. Then a worker tried to pull Samuel away from the rubble.  Samuel looked at him and said, “Won’t you help me?”   The worker left and Samuel kept digging.
All through the night and into the next day, Samuel continued digging.  Parents placed flowers and pictures of their children on the ruins.  But, Samuel just kept working.  He picked up a beam and pushed it out of the way when he heard a faint cry. “Help! Help!”  Samuel listened but didn’t hear anything again.  Then he heard a muffled voice, “Papa?”
Samuel began to dig furiously.  Finally he could see his son.  “Come on out, son!” he said with relief.
“No,” Armand said.  “Let the other kids come out first because I know you’ll get me.”  Child after child emerged until, finally, little Armand appeared.  Samuel took him in his arms and Armand said, “I told the other kids not to worry because you told me that you’d always be there for me!”
Fourteen children were saved that day because one father had faith. Implicit faith makes us fearless in times of trouble in the face of diseases and above all we must accept God’s Will.

A true Sufi ~ Disappears In God and Dissolves into God

One Sufi mystic was so full of love, and so full of joy — his whole life was laughter, music, dancing. And the story says God became very interested in him because he never asked anything, he never prayed. His whole life was a prayer, there was no need to pray.
He never went to the mosque, he never even uttered the name of God; his whole existence was the argument for the presence of God. If anybody asked him whether God exists or not he simply laughed — but his laughter was neither yes nor no.
God himself became intrigued with that strange mystic and He came to the mystic and said, “I am immensely happy because that’s how I want people to be — not that they should pray for one hour and do everything against it for twenty-three hours. Not that they should become very pious when they enter the mosque, and when they go out they leave their piousness in the mosque and they are just their old selves: angry, jealous, full of anxiety, full of violence.
I have watched you and I have loved you. This is the way: you have become the prayer. You are, right now, my only argument in the world that something more than man exists — although you have never argued, you have not even uttered my name. *Disappear In God, Dissolve into God and no more sufferings.
Those are superfluous things… but you live, you love, you are so full of joy that there is no need for any language; your very presence becomes the argument for my existence. I want to give you a blessing. You can ask for anything.”
The sage said, “But I don’t need anything. I am so joyous, and I cannot conceive there can be anything more. Forgive me, I cannot ask because I really don’t need anything. You are generous, you are loving, you are compassionate; but I am so over-full, there is no space within me for anything else. You will have to forgive me, I cannot ask.”
God said, “I had thought that you would not ask, so don’t ask for yourself — but you can ask for others, because there are millions of people who are miserable, sick, have never known anything for which they can be grateful. I can give you powers to do miracles, and you can change the lives of all these people.”
The sage said, “If you are insistent, then with a condition I can accept your gifts.”
God said, “With a condition? You really are strange. What is the condition?”
He said, “My condition is that I should not become aware of what is happening through me, by you. It should happen behind my back; it should happen through my shadow, not through me. I may be passing and my shadow may fall on a dead tree, and the tree may become alive again — again lush green, again heavy with flowers and fruits — but I should not know it, because I don’t want to fall back.
If I know it — that I have done it, or even that God has chosen me as the instrument to do it — it is dangerous. So my condition is: a blind man may start seeing, but neither should he know that it is because of me, nor should I know that it is because of me. My shadow behind my back will do all the miracles.
If you can accept my condition, and remember that I should not know at all… because I am so full of joy, so blissful. Don’t drag me back into the miserable world. Don’t drag me back to become again an ‘I.’
And it is said that God said to him, “You are not only strange, you are unique and rare. And this will be so: you will never know what things are happening around you. Miracles will be happening around you — wherever you will go, miracles will happen. Neither those people will know that you have done those miracles, nor you will know that you have done those miracles. I will remember the condition.”
*Osho*

Use your hands to heal yourself!

Dear blogger friends I’m sure you have heard or experienced alternative therapies such as Acupressure, Pranic healing, Reiki and other energy therapies where healing takes place with no medication. The sweet story below is another example of healing with the touch of your hands.
“Grandmother, how to relieve pain? “
“With our hands, darling. “
“With hands?”
“Yes.”
“Our hands are the antennas of our soul.”❤
When you set them in motion by painting, cooking, playing or burying them in the earth, you send healing energy to the deepest parts of you.
Your soul lights up because you then realize it,s significance and importance.
“So, the signs of pain are no longer necessary. “
“ Are the hands really that important?”
“ Yes, my daughter.”
Observe babies: they explore the world through touch through their little hands.
See the hands of the ancients, they will tell you more about their lives than any other part of their body.
It is said that: “Everything that is done with the hand, is done with heart. “
Hands and heart are connected.❤
All healers know this well: when they touch someone else’s body with their hands, they create a deep connection.
It is precisely from this connection that healing occurs. ❤
“My hands … I have not used them like that!”
“Put them in motion, my love, start to create with them and everything in you will get in motion.”
Realize what you want to do with any pain, so that it will reveal your ability to make it into your most beautiful masterpiece.
The pain will disappear, because you’ve been able to transform its essence. “❤
From pain to Love.
Because being a Lover is our essence.
Being a healer is our innate gift.
Put your hands in motion.
Send Love into this world.
🙏❤
Credits Serio Healing Santuary

Love is ……

Hello my dear blogger friends,

“Love is not what you say

but what you do”! 💑                      

   

And of course “Love Heals”                            

Sending peace and love your way 🕺🏻🏃🏼‍♀️

                                                                

 

Being happy is so simple!

The kids expressions reveal their bubbling joy while posing for a ‘make-believe selfie’! It goes to show that very little is needed to make a happy life. Happy is not the one who is rich, but the one who does not need wealth. It is all within yourself, in your way of thinking.

 

“Don’t educate your children to be rich Educate them to be happy, so they know value of things, not the price” ~ Victor Hugo

All my dear blogger friends wish you remain happy every moment 🎉😃🎊

Gratitude must be heartfelt

Dear friends the story below touched my soul. We all know very well that we must have gratitude for Almighty’s mercies. Yet we rush to take credit for achievements as we feel it’s only due to the hard work we have put in. Little do we realise that success could never have happened without the grace of God. For example Are we in control of every breath that we take”?
It takes a warm slice of bread to soak in the butter put on it. It doesn’t matter how much butter we put, but if the bread is cold the butter will stay on the surface only. Bite into it and you will see how different the two taste! It is the same bread and same butter but a world of difference in taste.
And so is it with the ‘blessings’ in our life. It doesn’t matter how abundantly HE blesses us, but if we are not truly gracious in our acceptance, how can those blessings ever make a change in our lives? Pretty much like the layer of butter on cold bread, blessings not graciously and wholeheartedly embraced continue to remain on the periphery and fail to make any positive change in life.
Acknowledge your blessings with humility.
‘Accept’ with gratitude and understand that whatever we achieve is not only due to our own efforts but His grace.
Keep your bread warm.
Let the butter soak in.
Bathed in the richness of this butter, every bite, every morsel then is bound to taste divine.
“Gratitude must be deep and sincere and not perfunctory”.
Cheers and be happy always!  😎😎

Caring for each other!

Hello my dear friends,

I felt like sharing a happy little anecdote to lift your spirits and make you smile and feel good.

A teacher brought balloons to school and asked the children to blow them all up and then each write their names on their balloon.

They tossed all the balloons into the hall while the teacher mixed them from one end to the other. The teacher then gave them 5 minutes to find the balloon with their name on it. The children ran around, looking frantically but as the time ran out – nobody had found their own balloon.

Then the teacher told them to take the balloon closest to them and give it to the person whose name was on it. In less than 2 minutes everyone had their own balloon.

Finally the teacher said, “Balloons are like happiness. No one will find it looking for theirs only. Instead, if everyone cares about each other, they will find theirs as quickly as possible.”

Bye for now and wishing you the best of health and happiness.  Let’s remember “Caring for each other” is the mantra to believe in.

Cheers 🙂

(Original source unknown)  

The Praying Hands

Dear blogger friends

I was deeply touched and fortunate to have come across a very inspiring story from https://truthbook.com/stories/service/praying-hands-painting

                                                                     The Praying Hands

Hands

 

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen!

In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood.

Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of the elder children, Albrecht and Albert, had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.

They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.

Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht’s etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht’s triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, “And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you.”

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, “No… no… no… no.”

Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, “No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look… Look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother… for me it is too late.”

More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer’s hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, water colors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer’s works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.

One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother’s abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply “Hands,” but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love “The Praying Hands.” The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, that no one – no one – ever makes it alone!

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen!

In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood.

Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of the elder children, Albrecht and Albert, had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.

After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.

They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.

Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht’s etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.

When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht’s triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, “And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you.”

All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, “No… no… no… no.”

Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, “No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look… Look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother… for me it is too late.”

More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer’s hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, water colors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer’s works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.

One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother’s abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply “Hands,” but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love “The Praying Hands.” The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, that no one – no one – ever makes it alone!

So my dear friends au revoir and be very well!

Happy New Year 2020

My dear blogger friends have a wonderful 2020 and may you and your families be blessed with the best of health and happiness. Let’s also resolve to make a difference and bring smiles in the lives of the less fortunate folk.

Cheers 🥂 🎊

An Empty Boat

Hi my dear blogger friends it feels great to blog again after a long hiatus. I could not resist sharing this beautiful story with you and do hope you enjoy it.
A monk decides to meditate alone, away from his monastery.
He takes his boat out to the middle of the lake, moors it there, closes his eyes and begins his meditation.
After a few hours of undisturbed silence, he suddenly feels the bump of another boat colliding with his own.
With his eyes still closed, he senses his anger rising, and by the time he opens his eyes, he is ready to scream at the boatman who dared disturb his meditation.
But when he opens his eyes, he sees it’s an empty boat that had probably got untethered and floated to the middle of the lake.
At that moment, the monk achieves self-realization, and understands that the anger is within him; it merely needs the bump of an external object to provoke it out of him.
From then on, whenever he comes across someone who irritates him or provokes him to anger, he reminds himself, “The other person is merely an empty boat. The anger is within me.”
Take time for introspection & search for answer:
“Empty boat” is a famous & fabulous metaphor. Its value lies in its implementation.
So lets continue our journey within be aware, be mindful, be joyful and savor the wonders around us.