A little something to share:
To every man there openeth
A way, and ways, and a way.
And the high soul climbs the high way,
And the low soul gropes the low:
And in between, on the misty flats,
The rest drift to and fro.
But to every man there openeth
A high way and a low,
And every man decideth
The way his soul shall go.
--JOHN OXENHAM
We held this party last month. Had a really good mix of guests from the champagne, and architect business.
Food was of course tops with M and Gui being the chefs. C brought along vodka and a Californian Merlot. S brought along Piper Heidsieck champagne. We finished the party with more whisky.
To think it was a Sunday evening! Close to 11:00pm, we were still dancing and singing, and of course snapping some pictures as and when I felt like. Errh, to provide more details, one went on top of the table to dance; to provide more - someone kinda stripped...oops. Caught on my camera, but not gonna flash it of course**!
Another short extract from Ajahn Brahm, although entitled "what's wrong with being sick?"... I felt has parallel to appreciating and enjoying moments!
In my public talks, I often ask the audience to raise their hand if they have ever been sick. Nearly everyone puts up their hand. (Those who don't are either asleep or probably lost in a sexual fantasy!) This proves, I argue, that it is quite normal to be sick. In fact, it would be very unusual if you didn't fall sick from time to time. So why, I ask, do you say when you visit the doctor,"There is something wrong with me, doctor? It would be wrong only if you weren't sick sometimes. Thus a rational person should say instead,"There is something right with me, doctor. I'm sick again!"
Whenever you perceive sickness as something wrong, you add unnecessary stress, even guilt, on top of the unpleasantness. In the nineteenth-century novel Erehwon, Samuel Butler envisaged a society in which illness was considered a crime and the sick were punished with a jail term. In one memorable passage, the accused man, sniffling and sneezing in the dock, was berated by the judge as a serial offender. This was not the first time he had appeared before the magistrate with a cold. Moreover, it was all his fault through eating junk food, failing to exercise adequately, and following a stressful lifestyle. He was sentenced to several years in jail.
How many of us are led to feel guity when we are sick?
A fellow monk had been sick with an unknown illness for many years. He would spend day after day, week after week, in bed all day, too weak even to walk beyond his room. The monastery spared no expense or effort arranging every kind of medical therapy, orthodox and alternative, in an attempt to help him, but nothing seemed to work. He would think he was feeling better, stagger outside for a little walk, and then relapse for weeks. Many times they thought he would die.
One day, the wise abbot of the monastery had an insight into the problem. So he went to the sick monk's room.
The bedridden monk stared up at the abbot with utter hopelessness.
"I've come here," said the abbot. "on behalf of all the monks and nuns of this monastery, and also for all the lay-people who support us. On behalf of all these people who love and care for you. I have come to give you permission to die. You don't have to get better."
