blink

                                                  

I just finished reading Malcolm Gladwell's blink: The Power of Thinking without Thinking. "It popularizes research from psychology and behavioral economics on the adaptive unconscious; mental processes that work rapidly and automatically from relatively little information. It considers both the strengths of the adaptive unconscious, for example in expert judgment, and its pitfalls such as stereotypes" - (Wikipedia). I wanted to share a page that I found really interesting, maybe more so because I could relate to it.

This excerpt is from the Acknowledgments chapter.

"A few years ago, before I began Blink, I grew my hair long. It used to be cut very short and conservatively. But I decided, on a whim, to let it grow wild, as it had been when I was a teenager. Immediately, in very small but significant ways, my life changed. I started getting speeding tickets - and I had never gotten any before. I started getting pulled out of airport security lines for special attention. And one day, while walking along Fourteenth Street in downtown Manhattan, a police van pulled up in the sidewalk, and three officers jumped out. They were looking, it turned out, for a rapist, and the rapist, they said, looked a lot like me. They pulled out a sketch and the description. I looked at it and pointed out to them as nicely as I could that, in fact, the rapist looked nothing at all like me. He was much taller and much heavier and about fifteen years younger (and, I added in a largely futile attempt at humor, not nearly as good-looking). All we had in common was a large head of curly hair. After twenty minutes or so, the officers finally agreed with me and let me go. On the grand scale of things, I realize, this was a trivial misunderstanding. African Americans in the United States suffer indignities far worse than this all the time. But what struck me was how even more subtle and absurd the stereotyping was in my case: this wasn't about something really obvious, such as skin color or age or height or weight. It was just about hair. Something about the first impression created by my hair derailed every other consideration in the hunt for the rapist. That episode on the street got me thinking about the weird power of first impressions. And that thinking led to Blink - so I suppose, before I thank anyone else, I should thank those three police officers."

a long way gone

This piece is an excerpt from the book "a long way gone" by ishmael beah. "Memoirs of a boy soldier". I thought it was a really interesting piece and should be shared with everyone, especially those who haven't read the book.

It was nighttime and we sat by the fire stretching our arms toward the flames as we listened to stories and watched the moon and the stars retire. The red coal from the firewood lit our faces in the dark and wisps of smoke continuously rose toward the sky. Pa Sesay, one of my friends' grandfather, had told us many stories that night, but before he began telling the last story, he repeatedly said, "This is a very important story." He then cleared his throat and began:

"There was a hunter who went into the bush to kill a monkey. He had looked for only a few minutes when he saw a monkey sitting comfortably in the branch of a low tree. The monkey didn't pay him any attention, not even when his footsteps on the dried leaves rose and fell as he neared. When he was close enough and behind a tree where he could clearly see the monkey, he raised his rifle and aimed. Just when he was about to pull the trigger, the monkey spoke: 'If you shoot me, your mother will die, and if u don't, your father will die.' The monkey resumed its position, chewing its food, and every so often scratched its head or the side of its belly.

"What would you do if you were the hunter?"

This was a story told to young people in my village once a year. The storyteller, usually an elder, would pose this unanswerable question at the end of the story in the presence of the children's parents. Every child who was present at the gathering was asked to give an answer, but no child ever did, since their mother and father were both present. The storyteller never offered an answer either. During each of these gatherings, when it was my time to respond, I always told the storyteller that I would think it over, which of course was not a good enough answer.

After such gatherings, my peers and I--all the children between the ages of six and twelve--would brainstorm several possible answers that would avoid the death of one of our parents. There was no right answer. If you spared the monkey, someone was going to die, and if u didn't, someone would also die.

That night we agreed on an answer, but it was immediately rejected. We told Pa Sesay that if any of us was the hunter, we wouldn't have gone hunting for monkeys. We told him, "There are other animals such as deer to hunt"

"That is not an acceptable answer," he said. "We are assuming that you as the hunter had already raised your gun and have to make the decision." He broke his kola nut in half and smiled before putting a piece in his mouth.

When I was seven I had an answer to this question that made sense to me. I never discussed it with anyone, though, for fear of how my mother would feel. I concluded to myself that if I were the hunter, I would shoot the monkey so that it would no longer have the chance to put other hunters in the same predicament.

Two horses

There is a field with two horses in it.

From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse. But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing. Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him.

This alone is amazing.

If you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source of the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field.

Attached to the horse's halter is a small bell. It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.

As you stand and watch these two horses, you'll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the blind horse, and that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk to where the other horse is, trusting that he will not be led astray.

When the horse with the bell returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, it stops occasionally and looks back, making sure that the blind friend isn't too far behind to hear the bell.

Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or because we have problems or challenges.

He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need.

Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives.

Other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way...

Good friends are like that...you may not always see them, but you know they are always there.

Please listen for my bell and I'll listen for yours.

And remember be kinder than necessary - everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

Live simply,
Love generously,
Care deeply,
Speak kindly...
Leave the rest to God.

The Gold Box

A story worth sharing and remembering:

“A young man learns what's most important in life from the guy next door.”

It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, girls, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

Over the phone, his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is on Wednesday." Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days. "Jack, did you hear me?"

"Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.

"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him.

"I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said.

"You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said.

"He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important...Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said. As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown.

Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time. The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture....Jack stopped suddenly.

"What's wrong, Jack?" his Mother asked.

"The box is gone," he said.

"What box?” Mom asked.

“There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,” Jack said. It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it. "Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one was at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read.

Early the next day Jack retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. "Mr. Harold Belser" it read. Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside. “Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life.” A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! Harold Belser."
"The thing he valued most...was...my time." Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days. "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked. "I need some time to spend with my son," he said. "Oh, by the way, Janet...thanks for your time!"

“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away.”

"Something good to share..."

"Something good to share...."

One day a father of a very affluent family took his son on a trip to the country with the firm purpose of showing his son how poor people live.

They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very deprived family.

On their return from the trip, the father asked his child, "How was the trip?"

"It was great, Dad"

"Did you see how poor people live?" the father asked.

"Oh yeah," said the young man.

"So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?" asked the father.

The lad answered: "I saw that we have one dog and they had four.
We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end.
We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night.
Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon.
We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight.
We have servants who serve us, but they serve others.
We purchase our food, but they grow theirs.
We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect them."

The boy's father was speechless.

Then his son added, "Thanks, Dad, for showing me how unfortunate we are"
Isn't perspective a wonderful thing? Makes you wonder what would happen if we all gave thanks for everything we have, instead of worrying about what we don't have. Appreciate every single thing you have, especially your near and dear ones! If you pass this page on to friends and acquaintances, they too will hopefully refresh their perception and admiration.

"Life is too short and friends are too few"

The Four Candles

THE FOUR CANDLES

The four candles burn slowly.

The ambiance was so soft, you could hear them talking.

The First One said: "I Am Peace! However, Nobody Can Keep Me Lit. I Believe I Will Go Out." Its flame rapidly diminishes and goes out completely.

The Second One says: "I Am Faith! Most of All, I Am No Longer Indispensable, So It Doesn't Make Any Sense That I Stay Lit Any Longer." When it finished talking, a breeze softly blew on it putting it out.

Sadly, The Third Candle Spoke In Its Turn: "I Am Love! I Haven't Got The Strength To Stay Lit. People Put Me Aside & Don't Understand My Importance. They Even Forget To Love Those Who Are Nearest To Them." And waiting no longer it goes out.

Suddenly... A Child Enters The Room And Sees Three Candles Not Burning. "Why Are You Not Burning? You Are Supposed To Stay Lit Till The End." Saying this, the child begins to cry.

Then The Fourth Candle Said: "Don't Be Afraid, While I Am Still Burning We Can Re-Light The Other Candles, I Am Hope!"

With Shining Eyes, The Child Took The Candle Of Hope And Lit The Other Candles.

The flame of Hope should never go out from your life.....and each of us should maintain Hope, Faith, Peace and Love!!!

Have a nice day...

Law Of The Garbage Truck

This article was sent to me by someone, I thought I would share it with everyone...

Take the time to read through the story below. See how you can make your living more enjoyable by just applying the simple "Law of The Garbage Truck" in your life.

Thank you.

LAW OF THE GARBAGE TRUCK

"Let the Garbage go by..."

By David J. Pollay

How often do you let other people's nonsense affect your mood? Do you let a terrible driver, uncouth waiter, curt boss, or an insensitive employee ruin your day? Unless you're the Terminator, for an instant you're most likely set back on your heels.

However, the mark of a successful person is how quickly he/she can get back their focus on what's important. Sixteen years ago I learnt this lesson. I learnt it in the back of a New York City Cab. Here's what happened.

I hopped in a Taxi, and we took off for The Grand Central Station. We were driving in the right lane when all of a sudden, and I mean without warning, a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My Taxi Driver slammed on his brakes, skidded and missed the other car's back end by just inches.

Then, the Driver of the other car, the guy who nearly caused a huge accident, whipped his head around and started abusing us. How do I know? Ask any New Yorker, some words in New York come with a unique expression!

Now, here's what astounded me. My Taxi Driver just smiled and waved at the guy. So, I said, "Why did you just do that? The guy almost bust your car and sent us to the hospital!" And this is when my Taxi Driver told me what I now entitle, "The Law of The Garbage Truck."

Many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of trash, filled with frustration, bursting of anger, and packed with disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it. And if you let them, they'll dump it on you.

When someone wants to dump on you, don't take it personally. You just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. You'll be glad you did. I assure you.

So this was it: “The Law of The Garbage Truck." I started thinking, how regularly do I let Garbage Trucks run right over me? And how frequently do I take their garbage and spread it to other people: at work, at home, on the streets? It was that day I said, "I'm not going to do it anymore."

Well now I distinguish “Garbage Trucks." I notice the junk they're carrying. I see them coming to unload it. And like my Taxi Driver, I don't make it a personal thing; I just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on.

One of my favorite Football players of all time, Walter Payton, did this every day on the football field. He would jump up as swiftly as he hit the ground after being tackled. He never dwelled on a hit. Payton was ready to make the next play his finest. Superior leaders know they have to be ready for their next meeting. Excellent parents know that they have to greet their children when they come home from school, with hugs and kisses.

Leaders and Parents know that they have to be fully present, and at their best for the people they care about.

The bottom line is that successful people do not let “Garbage Trucks” take over their day. What about you? What would happen in your life, starting today, if you let more “Garbage Trucks” pass you by?

Here's my bet. You'll be happier. I guarantee it.