Praying Hands

Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood.



Despite their seemingly hopeless condition, two of Albrecht Durer the Elder's children had a dream. They both wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that their father would never be financially able to send either of them to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.



After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, also by laboring in the mines.



They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after church. Albrecht Durer won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.



Albert went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an immediate sensation. Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.



When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming. After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter, Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were, "And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn. Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care of you."



All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over, "No ...no ...no ...no."



Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look... look what four years in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late." More than 450 years have passed.



By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors, charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your home or office.



One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply "Hands," but the entire world almost immediately opened their hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love "The Praying Hands."



The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one - no one - - ever makes it alone!



-- Author Unknown

High Energy.......

In the same way an automobile engine requires the proper fuel and other fluids to function efficiently and produce energy, our body’s tiny cellular engines require a proper fuel source as well.



In the case of the human body, the fuel source is a supply of certain specific nutrients. Over 60 of these nutrients are essential for the body’s basic functioning, health and longevity. At least 30 mineral elements (some experts believe as many as 60), 16 vitamins, 12 essential amino acids, and three essential fatty acids must be consumed in order for the body to maintain itself in a healthful state. Of these 60 plus essential nutrients, it is often the minerals that are the most difficult for many people to obtain.



Unfortunately, throughout most of the Western world, the topsoil which grows our food crops is severely nutrient deficient. The fruits, vegetables, and grains we consume today provide only a shadow of their nutritional content in comparison to several hundreds years ago, even 100 years.



With soil conditions deteriorating, supplementation with bioavailable forms of minerals is recommended.



One mineral in particular of especially high importance is magnesium.

Don't Believe It, Just Use It

It's good for people to believe in something. But you don't have to believe in energy, you just need to use it. Belief is what you do when something lacks reality. When you make a meal, you don't need to say,

"I believe this raw rice will become cooked rice." You don't need to say,

"I believe in you," before you turn on a windshield wiper.



All you have to do is know there is energy in your body and know how to change and manage it. To use energy, you don't have to graduate from college or pass a test. Already within your brain is the technology,

the universal principles,

that know how to use energy.

Without believing in energy,

you can test it and

see the results for yourself.



Your destiny can change

as you manage energy.











Ilchi Lee

Ugly

Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat.

Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.



To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot has appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs.



Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. "That's one UGLY cat!!"



All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave.



Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.



One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly's sad life was almost at an end.



Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought.



Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear - Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.



At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.



Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. -- Author Unknown

Peaceful Affirmations

•It's healthy to let go of stress and experience relaxation.

•Today I choose to experience a deep calmness.

•I feel calm, relaxed and at peace in this moment.

•I am at peace with myself and others always.

•I am now living a stress free life.

•I trust my inner messages; they lead me to the light.

•My mind is calm and relaxed in this moment.

•I am worthy of great love and respect, and I get it.

•I am free to experience calmness in each moment.

•I choose to experience lots of love and joy today

Great Decision Making

God won't ask what kind of car you drove.

He will ask how many people you took to church who didn't have a car.



God won't ask the square footage of your home.

He will ask how many people you helped who didn't have a home.



God won't ask how many fancy clothes you had in your closet.

He will ask how many of those clothes you gave away to Salvation Army.



God won't ask what social class you were in.

He will ask what kind of "class" you displayed.



God won't ask how many material possessions you had.

He will ask whether those material possessions dictated your life.



God won't ask what your highest salary was.

He will ask if you trampled over any people to obtain that salary.



God won't ask how much overtime you worked.

He will ask did you work overtime for your family.



God won't ask how many promotions you received.

He will ask what you did to promote others.



God won't ask what your job title was.

He will ask did you perform your job to the best of your ability.



God won't ask how many promotions you took to chase the dollar bill.

He will ask how many promotions you refused to advance your family's quality of life.



God won't ask how many times you didn't run around around on your spouse.

He will ask how many times you did.



God won't ask how many degrees you have.

He will ask how many people you thanked for getting those degrees.



God won't ask what your parents did to help you.

He will ask what you did to help your parents.



God won't ask what you did to help yourself.

He will ask what you did to help others.



God won't ask how many friends you had.

He will ask how many people you were a friend to.



God won't ask what you did to protect your rights.

He will ask what you did to protect the rights of others.



God won't ask what neighborhood you lived in.

He will ask what other neighborhoods you visited.



God won't ask how many times you told the truth.

He will ask how many times you told a lie.



God won't ask about the color of your skin.

He will ask about the color of your heart.



-- Author Unknown



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All The Time In The World

While at the park one day, a woman sat down next to a man on a bench near a playground.


"That's my son over there," she said, pointing to a little boy in a red sweater who was gliding

down the slide.



"He's a fine looking boy," the man said. "That's my son on the swing in the blue sweater." Then,

looking at his watch, he called to his son. "What do you say we go, Todd?"



Todd pleaded, "Just five more minutes, Dad. Please? Just five more minutes." The man nodded

and Todd continued to swing to his heart's content.



Minutes passed and the father stood and called again to his son. "Time to go now?"

Again Todd pleaded, "Five more minutes, Dad. Just five more minutes." Th e man smiled and

said, ""Okay."



"My, you certainly are a patient father," the woman responded.



The man smiled and then said, My older son Tommy was killed by a drunk driver last year

while he was riding his bike near here. I never spent much time with Tommy and now I'd give

anything for just five more minutes with him. I've vowed not to make the same mistake with

Todd.



"He thinks he has five more minutes to swing.

The truth is... I get five more minutes to watch him play."



-- Author Unknown