You Don't Have to be Sick to Get Better

Ask yourself this question: "If I could get better without getting sick, would I still wait for the heavy fists of fate to break down my mind's locked door before opening it myself willfully?" The answer might seem like a resounding "No" and yet people remain stubbornly closed-minded to this simple notion of reasoning -- Something must go awfully wrong in our lives before we could hear life's urgent knocks on our doors, or feel its unmistakable presence at our doorsteps. And even then, at that crucial moment in time, the vast majority of us would rather take a squint-eyed peek through the dark peephole in the door than open it.

Much like a house, our minds reside within an edifice of walls with windows and doors which we control -- with our free will, we open them, or close. Some people choose to shut their windows firmly on a breezy day, and swing them wide during a storm; they opt to draw their curtains tight from dawn to dusk blocking the sunlight from entering, while they leave them open from nightfall to daybreak, thus inviting waves of darkness to penetrate ... and so it goes.

So why, do you suppose, we so often, foolishly slip our mind's wrists into these self-imposed shackles with a hideous smirk on our face? In other words: Why do we hurt one another? Why do we open our copious mouths before engaging our little minds? Why do we cut each other up so bad and sprinkle salt on open wounds we so proudly inflict? Why? W-H-Y? ... Honestly, I do not know why! You have to find out for yourself. Dig deep within your heart and try to gain access to your soul and see if your "conscious" has left you a forwarding address. Try to invite this rightful resident -- your estranged spiritual essence -- back into your inner being while life still pulsates in your veins. After all, today, right at this minute, what guarantees does anyone have that the table of life would not suddenly fold their empty chair tomorrow?

A Single Rose for the Living is Better than a Costly Wreath at the Grave

A few days ago, I had a heart-to-heart phone conversation with one of my acquaintances in Canada. Just as we were about to conclude our conversation, the dear person on the other end of the phone read to me a deeply heartfelt and penetratingly poignant little poem packed with universal truism-- so unassumingly simple and yet unequivocally profound. I was touched by it so much so that I took the liberty of translating it. I do hope my humble attempt did some justice to its integrity and purpose, and to the core of its intended meaning and message. Thank you, Azniv, for sharing it with me, just as I am happy to share my translated version with my guests:



Now, is the Time

I would prefer one heartfelt rose,
Hand-picked with love from a garden;
Than those ornate flashy bouquets,
Sent while I'm gone in a sudden.
Now, is the time!

I would prefer one lil sweet word,
While my ears could still hear it;
Than late praises and accolades,
For my body would not feel it.
Now, is the time!

If you do have one smile for me,
Let it light up on your face NOW;
My heart won't feel your silent tears,
When shed on my gravestone somehow.
Now, is the time!

Of all the gifts that you could give,
One timely flower would be nice;
Late arriving bouquets are deemed,
Worthless as death would shut my eyes.
Now, is the time!