Seeing is Not Believing

People used to say they wouldn't believe something was real until they see it for themselves. But what happens if the difference is so minute and scarce that you have to play a spot the difference game? 

Well unless you are equipped with the proper knowledge of what genuine is, you wouldn't know you are being duped. 

can you tell the 6 differences in the picture above?

Being genuine has far more benefits than an imitation. This applies to all aspects in life; not just physical manifestations. 

Don't all of us fall for the tendency of having someone to be there beneficially? We know that each individual have strengths to which we could exploit with less effort. We know what they are capable of and that is why we make sure they stay attached very closely. Its near impossible to find someone genuinely interested in you these days when the world has turned into a cat eat mouse scenario. 

"We are interested in others when they are interested in us"  ~ Publilius Syrus

Giving some thought on what old Syrus has to say. Think of the small conversations that you have with acquaintances. Everyone will put themselves first before all others because its human nature. We were born to adapt and therefore not knowingly commit a sin of excess when making decisions. 

Nobody rejects a spare but always questions the scant ~ J. Hunstman 

Strive to lead a life of sincerity and abundance will come so discretely you will not notice it. Be a genuine person to yourself, family, friends and ultimately your Creator. Remember these "SELF LEARNING METHODS", and perhaps you will find more sincere people surrounding your world. 

1. Smile.
2. Listen.
3. Make others feel important in a genuine way. 

I bid you a Happy New Year and may 2012 steer itself into sincere happiness that come in abundance for all you readers out there!

PS: sorry I have not been updating my post, pretty preoccupied with unavoidable matters. Till the next time..

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The Giant takes Baby Steps

A story that will open your minds, not only as fathers but Individuals. 

A simple man sharing his life changing experience. 

Father Forgets
W. Livingston Larned


Listen Son,: I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.


There are things I was thinking, son: I have been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor. 


At breakfast I found fault too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, "Goodbye Daddy!" and I frowned, and said in reply, "Hold your shoulders back!"


Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road I spied on you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings are expensive - and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!


Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. "What is it you want?" I snapped.


You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had sent blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.


Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What was this habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding- this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.


And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed! 


It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: "He is nothing but a boy-a little boy!"


I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother's arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.


Instead on condemning, lets open our hearts to understanding. 

Battles are started because of the words of man, but Battles are not won by the edge of swords, instead Triumph will come when the heart starts to empathize. ~J.Hunstman

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