Posted by Priya Deelchand
Monday, June 4, 2012
Count Your Daily Wins
It has been said that you and I tend to become what we think
about most. If we believe this to be true doesn't it stand
to reason that we would do well to take an active role as to
what we allow to become our most dominant thoughts?
Hopefully you would agree that we would all benefit greatly
by choosing to recount the daily achievements we experience.
No matter how small or insignificant you may view them at
the moment each should be acknowledged -- and framed in our
mind as they are -- successes. If we neglect to do so
there's a chance that we will end up focusing on the
occurrences of our day that don't help to build our own
self-esteem.
There's great personal power that comes from celebrating
both our larger achievements as well as the small successes
that we experience ongoing in our lives.
The reality is that you and I have the choice to allow
ourselves to gravitate towards thinking about the negative
things we have experienced, or we can choose to take a more
pro-active approach where we make the choice to re-live in
our mind the positive accomplishments of the day.
It really does get right down to making the choice to see
things from a half full versus half empty mentality. Make
the choice to see the positives and that's exactly what
you'll notice more of.
Action exercise:
At the end of each day just before heading to sleep take a
moment to write down several successes from the day.
Remember that they don't have to be monumental to count as a
success. Anything from meeting a new person to calling on
a new client and just about anything in between qualifies as
a worthy achievement.
After you have written down your daily list -- read over
what you've written and each time you do so close your eyes
for a moment and try to experience the positive feelings
associated with your given accomplishments.
By following this idea we can actually control what we
choose to focus in on. While we don't always have complete
control over what happens to us, we do have the choice to
focus our minds on (and thus give power to) those things
that are most likely to get us on a positive path.
My hope is that the ideas shared above help you to better
take control of your most dominant thoughts. Always remember
that if one person can succeed in a given endeavor then so
can you and I.
-- Josh Hinds
Posted by Priya Deelchand
Paying attention to habits
There was a fire one night at a convent and several nuns who lived
on the fourth floor were trapped. They were praying for divine
providence to show them a way out of the fire when one of the
sisters screamed, "We need to take off our robes, tie them together,
and climb down to safety."
Later as they were recounting the event to reporters, they were
asked if they were afraid that the crude rope might not hold up.
"Oh, no," they said, "Old habits are hard to break."
Do you know the story of the touchstone? It tells of a fortunate man
who was told that, if he should find the "touchstone," its magical
powers could give him anything he wanted. It could be found, he was
informed, among the pebbles of a certain beach. All he need do is
pick up a stone - if it feels warm to the touch, unlike the other
pebbles, he has found the magical touchstone.
The man went immediately to the beach and began picking up stones.
When he grasped a pebble that felt cold, he threw it into the sea.
This practice he continued hour after hour, day after day, week
after week. Each pebble felt cold. Each pebble was immediately
tossed into the sea.
But then, late one morning, he happened to take hold of a pebble
that felt warm, unlike the other stones. The man, whose
consciousness had barely registered the difference, tossed it into
the sea. He hadn't meant to, but he had formed a habit, and habits
can be hard to break.
Most of my habits are more like routines. I habitually arise about
the same time every day - too early, it seems. I exercise. I fix
oatmeal for breakfast. Most days I listen to the same kinds of music
and even read the same kinds of literature. (I hope I don't repeat
the same old stories.) My routines include those places I like to
visit and the people I like to see. It's all fairly predictable. But
what I call routine is more like a series of habits, some of which
work well for me and some I should perhaps look at a bit more
closely.
In fact, any behavior that I repeat, I reinforce. If I repeat it
often enough, it becomes habit. Soon I don't even think about it -
old habits are hard to break. Even good ones.
A Spanish proverb says: "Habits are first cobwebs, then cables." The
metaphor works well for "bad" habits. They first entice, and then
ensnare us like a cobweb. And if we continue in the behavior, the
web grows stronger and can be as difficult to break as a steel
cable.
But some habits can work in our favor. Such as patterns in the way
we live our lives. Or positive attitudes and healthy ways of
thinking. Our habitual attitudes and behaviors can either help us or
hinder us.
The truth is this: we form our habits, then our habits form us. So
we ought to pay attention to the habits we're forming.
Is there a behavior or attitude you would like to make into a habit?
Then reinforce it by repeating it at every opportunity. Is there a
something you wish to change? Then substitute a different attitude
or behavior and repeat the new one every chance you get.
When it comes to habits, practice may not make perfect. But practice
will certainly make permanent. Your habits will form you. So form
the habits you want and let them mold you into the person you want
to be.
-- Steve Goodier
Posted by Priya Deelchand
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Saturday, March 17, 2012
A choice to make
I believe that, at least to some degree, we can each exercise control over our outlook and attitudes. And the problem is - if we don't control our attitudes, they will surely control us.
One farmer took charge of his outlook. He did it by filling his mind with awe and gratitude. He found that doing this gave him more energy to work on problems and to tackle those things that needed his attention. His neighbour's outlook could not have been more different.
One summer morning he exclaimed, 'Look at the beautiful sky. Did you ever see such a glorious sunrise?'
She countered. 'It'll probably get so hot the crops will scorch.'
During an afternoon shower, he commented, 'Isn't this wonderful? Mother Nature is giving the corn a drink today.'
'And if it doesn't stop before too long,' came the sour reply, 'we'll wish we'd taken out flood insurance on the crops.' And so it went.
Convinced that he could instil some awe and wonder in this hardened woman, he bought a remarkable dog. Not just any mutt, but the most expensive, highly trained and gifted dog he could find. The animal was exquisite. It could perform remarkable and impossible feats that, the farmer thought, would surely amaze even his neighbour. So he invited her to watch his dog perform.
'Fetch!' he commanded, as he tossed a stick into a lake, where it bobbed up and down in the rippling water. The dog bounded after the stick, walked on the water, and retrieved it. 'What do you think of that?' he smirked.
Her brow wrinkled. 'Hmmm. Can't swim, can he?'
Not to sound too Pollyanna, but I agree with newscaster Paul Harvey when he said that he has never seen a monument erected for a pessimist. A stubbornly positive attitude can often make the difference between happiness and misery, between health and illness and even between life and death.
Viktor Frankl would have agreed. Dr. Frankl chronicled his experiences as a Holocaust and concentration camp survivor in his book Man's Search for Meaning. In it he asserts something really quite remarkable. He says that everything can be taken from a person except one thing. What can never be taken away is the power to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances.
We can decide to choose our attitudes every day. That may be one of the most important decisions we will make. I don't want to neglect making that choice.
Written by Steve Goodier
Priya Deelchand http://www.facebook.com/priyadeelchand1
If it's meant to be, it will be!
As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.
The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline -1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago.
It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a 'Dear John' letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael and said that the writer could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him. It was signed, Hannah.
It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.
'Operator,' I began, ' this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?'
She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, 'Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number.' She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. 'I have a party who will speak with you.'
I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, 'Oh! we bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!'
'Would you know where that family could be located now?' I asked. 'I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago,' the woman said. 'Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter.'
She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living. I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.
This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old?
Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, 'Yes, Hannah is staying with us.'
Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her. 'Well,' he said hesitatingly, 'if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television.'
I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.
I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah.
She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, ' Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael.'
She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, 'I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor.'
'Yes,' she continued, 'Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often and,' she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, 'tell him I still love him. You know,' she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, 'I never did marry, I guess no one ever matched up to Michael.'
I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, 'Was the old lady able to help you?' I told him she had given me a lead. 'At least I have a last name. But I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet.'
I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, ' Hey, wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that right red lacing. He's always losing that wallet must have found it in the halls at least three times.'
'Who's Mr. Goldstein?' I asked as my hand began to shake. 'He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike Goldstein's wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks.' I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up.
On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, 'I think he's still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man. 'We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, 'Oh, it is missing!'
'This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?' I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, 'Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward.'
'No, thank you,' I said. 'But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet.' The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. 'You read that letter?'
'Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is.' He suddenly grew pale. 'Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me,' he begged.
'She's fine ... just as pretty as when you knew her.' I said softly. The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, 'Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow.' He grabbed my hand and said, 'You know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her.'
'Mr. Goldstein,' I said, 'come with me. 'We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her. 'Hannah,' she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. 'Do you know this man?'
She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word. Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, 'Hannah, it's Michael. Do you remember me?'
She gasped, 'Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!' He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces.
'See,' I said. 'See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will be.' About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home. 'Can you get away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!'
It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their best man. The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple.
A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years!
Author Unknown
Priya Deelchand http://www.facebook.com/priyadeelchand1
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
The parable of the marbles
Once upon a time, there was a foolish boy who had a bag full of beautiful marbles. Now this boy was quite proud of his marbles. In fact, he thought so much of them that he would neither play with them himself nor would he let anyone else play with them.
He only took them out of the bag in order to count and admire them; they were never used for their intended purpose. Yet that boy carried that coveted bag of marbles everywhere he went.
Well, there was also a wise boy who wished he could have such a fine bag of marbles. So this boy worked hard and earned money to purchase a nice bag to hold marbles. Even though he had not yet earned enough with which to purchase any marbles, he had faith and purchased the marble bag.
He took special care of the bag and dreamed of the day it would contain marbles with which he could play and share with his friends.
Alas, the foolish boy with all of the marbles didn't take care of the marble bag itself, and one day the bag developed a hole in the bottom seam. Still, he paid no attention and, one by one, the marbles fell out of the bag.
It didn't take long, once the foolish boy's marble bag developed a hole, for the wise boy to begin to find those beautiful marbles, one at a time, lying unnoticed on the ground. And, one by one, he added them to his marble bag. The wise boy thus gained a fine bag full of marbles in no time at all. This boy played with the marbles and shared them with all of his friends. And he always took special care of the bag so he wouldn't lose any.
Because the foolish boy was selfish and careless, he lost all of his marbles and was left holding the bag.
Because the foolish boy was selfish and careless, he lost all of his marbles and was left holding the bag.
Author Unknown
Priya Deelchand Facebook http://www.facebook.com/priyadeelchand1
Dream what you want to dream
Dream what you want to dream, go where you want to go,be what you want to be. Because you have only one life and one chance to do all the things you want to do. – Anonymous
Priya Deelchand Facebook http://www.facebook.com/priyadeelchand1
I have a choice about today
I woke up early today, excited over all I get to do before the clock strikes midnight. I have responsibilities to fulfill today and I am important. My job is to choose what kind of day I am going to have.
Today I can complain because the weather is rainy or I can be thankful that the grass is getting watered for free.
Today I can feel sad that I don't have more money or I can be glad that my finances encourage me to plan my purchases wisely and guide me away from waste.
Today I can grumble about my health or I can rejoice that I am alive.
Today I can lament over all that my parents didn't give me when I was growing up or I can feel grateful that they allowed me to be born.
Today I can cry because roses have thorns or I can celebrate that thorns have roses.
Today I can mourn my lack of friends or I can excitedly embark upon a quest to discover new relationships.
Today I can whine because I have to go to work or I can shout for joy because I have a job to do.
Today I can complain because I have to go to school oreagerly open my mind and fill it with rich new tidbits of knowledge.
Today I can murmur dejectedly because I have to do housework or I can appreciate that I have a place to call home.
Today stretches ahead of me, waiting to be shaped. And here I am, the sculptor who gets to do the shaping.
What today will be like is up to me. I get to choose what kind of day I will have!
Have a GREAT DAY ... unless you have other plans and please remember, a 'Smile' will make the days go better.
Author Unknown
Priya Deelchand Facebook http://www.facebook.com/priyadeelchand1
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