The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.

Nature demonstrates that almost everything occurs in cycles. The earth rotates on daily cycles. The moon revolves around the earth on a monthly cycle and the earth around the sun on an annual cycle. Within each year the four seasons take us from cold to warm and again to cold as plants and animals go from a dormant state to a dynamic state. Within nature, every beginning has an ending and all endings herald a new beginning. Every day tides go out and then come in. As each day ends a night begins, followed by a new day, followed once again by night. When winter ends, spring begins.

Our lives have seasons and cycles as well. Each one of us experiences an endless flow of beginnings and endings. Every season of our life has a beginning and ending that leads to a new beginning. Childhood ends and adolescence begins; adolescence ends and adulthood begins; young adulthood ends and middle age begins; middle age ends and old age begins.

We generally like beginnings. We celebrate the new. But we resist endings and attempt to delay them. Very often we don’t feel the joy of a beginning, knowing that in each beginning are the seeds of the end. Although endings can be painful, they are less so if, instead of resisting them, we look at time as a natural process of nature: as leaves budding in the spring, coming to full leaf in the summer, turning to red and gold in autumn and dropping from the trees in winter. It is a comfort to comprehend that we are an integral part of the great scheme of nature.

Much of our resistance to endings stems from our unawareness of each new beginning, from our inability to realize that we are one with nature. Indeed, we may even doubt that there will be a new beginning! The more we can allow ourselves to trust that every ending is a new beginning, the less likely we are to resist letting go of the old. The less resistance we have, the less pain we will experience in making the journey through the many cycles of our lives.

Imagine you are a caterpillar. You have this strange urge to spin a cocoon around your body: certain death! How difficult it would be to let go of the only life you have ever known, a life of crawling on the earth in search of food. Yet if you are willing to trust, as caterpillars seem able to do, the end of your life as an earthbound worm will be the beginning of your life as a beautiful winged creature of the sky. The powerful potential behind change lies in the possibility that each new beginning will bring us greater joy and freedom than we have ever known. Whether or not that actually happens, whether or not we continue to grow throughout the cycle of our lives is largely up to our beginnings, our endings. We can see each ending as tragedy lament it and resist it or we can see each ending as a new beginning, a new birth into greater opportunities.

We will continue to die a trillion spiritual and mental deaths, due to our ignorance of journeying outside the cocoon of our physical being.

1 Cor 15:26-”The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death”.

The caterpillar’s pilgrimage is one of God’s lessons in nature to help us understand life and the hereafter. Our conditions in this world will worsen and only our understanding of the hereafter will give us salvation. Man must be born anew if he is going to achieve a meaningful realization of his own divinity and of the kingdom of God within him. God I see your path, I heed your message, and will continue to spread your word.

“Whoever will listen let him listen, and whoever will refuse let him refuse; for they are a rebellious house.” Ezekiel 3:27

There was a blind girl who hated herself just because she’s blind. She hated everyone, except her loving boyfriend. He’s always there for her. She said that if she could only see the world, she would marry her boyfriend.

One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her and then she can see everything, including her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend asked her, “now that you can see the world, will you marry me?” The girl was shocked when she saw that her boyfriend is blind too, and refused to marry him.

Her boyfriend walked away in tears, and later wrote a letter to her saying. “Just take care of my eyes dear.”

This is how human brain changes when our status changes. Only few remember what life was before, and who’s always been there even in the most painful situations.

Truth is often viewed in the past tense, as a thing that has already happened and must be divulged rather than being a measure by which one lives. Truth is also a projection, if not a weapon, seldom a light shined upon ourselves for self-discovery but rather turned upon adversarial ideologies to expose their deficiencies; deficiencies we recognize all too well as they are oftentimes our own.

Why are we so ashamed of our inadequacies? Why do we hold ourselves to be perfect in the eyes of others knowing that none of us is perfect? Why do we embrace images and illusions instead of essence and reality? We are taught that we should not judge a book by its cover, that we should judge others by the content of their character, and treat others as we wish to be treated – and we know this is right. Why don’t we do it?

Are we, as the Word of God says, sheep looking for a shepherd, easily led to the slaughter because we cannot think for ourselves but would rather that someone else make decisions for us, excusing us of our self-responsibility?

Habits are horrible things – excuses not to think, I have come to discover; not that thinking ensures a betterment of our situation or understanding. Faulty logic, it seems, is much more plentiful than straight logic and as different as reasoning from rationalizing.

And what is love as it is commonly understood but a misunderstood application of antiperspirant, used to band-aid loneliness, doubt and mortality?

Semantics and definitions have been abused to such an extent that otherwise sensible individuals have unwittingly dummied down, implicating their own ignorance as the main culprit in breakdowns of communication and transparency.

It also seems that somewhere in the not so distant past society has managed to utterly destroy common sense and replace it with assumption and convenience – no matter the consequence.

We have gone from endeavoring to know about a thing to becoming content with the proposition that we shall never know anything. Having become comfortable with our ignorance, we automatically buy into our failure … for without the attempt what can be accomplished?

An actor once delivered the lines, “if we don’t try, how can we do? And if we don’t do, then what are we here for?”

I have often argued that words exist for a purpose – to define those concepts they have been assigned to. There can be no language without definitions and without language there can be no communication.

So when someone accuses me of being wrong for calling another person ugly, I want to ask them if I am ugly for making the statement, and that if the word can be attributed to me, why not someone else, and who decides what is beautiful or ugly to me besides me?

Therein, I believe, lies the real issue. To find someone with whom we naturally agree is not the same as finding someone who has been persuaded, convinced or forced to agree. Our sense of sovereignty over our own lexicon of values, definitions and beliefs is sacrosanct. Depending on our malleability, when we are confronted with views that challenge our own we become defensive if not combative outright.

Our identity is so inextricably wrapped up in our views that even if we are wrong we are slow to concede the fact, jealously guarding our position as if our life depended on it – and to some extent that is exactly the case. When our ideas change, so does our paradigm; when our paradigm changes we look at life through new lenses. Everything may not appear completely different, but the way we see things will not be the same.

To look at life through new eyes can be a scary proposition to some. Sometimes it means letting go of a mindset that has had years to root itself in your psyche. Breaking from that can leave one feeling so vulnerable that they would rather cling to the illusion of safety (sticking their heads in the sand) than set out on a journey to reality.

Sometimes it isn’t fear that dissuades the decision to move forward, but age. At some point a person can feel that they been there and done that and that they are tired. The idea of embarking on what promises to be a demanding and challenging mission this lat in the game is not motivating in the least. They would rather leave it to the youth of the generations behind them to figure out. They rationalize that if it were meant to be, it would have been done already.

I saw a dog, a greyhound to be exact, with two legs - one in the front and one in the back - running, jumping and catching frisbees. The dog looked happy and unaffected by his missing two legs which it lost in a car accident. My first thought was that the dog didn’t know any better…

Then I thought of the story about the one-legged frog climbing the mountain. Everybody told him he couldn’t do it. And as he passed each competitor on the way up, they too told him he couldn’t do it. Well, to make a long story short, he did and when asked by a reporter whether or not he was discouraged by everyone telling him he couldn’t, he smiled and turned to his coach who repeated the question for him in sign language. You see, he couldn’t hear the naysayers, because he was deaf.

I smiled, humbled by my own ignorance and my proclivity to use a common phrase without thinking about its meaning or application. The dog didn’t know any better? On the contrary, I didn’t know any better. The dog was just fine.

So when I see what and who the world labels as disabled, crippled or handicapped, I remind myself that most times it is the labeler who aptly deserves the labeling. The paralyzed, limbless, blind, autistic, deaf, and deformed are some of the most blessed and talented people on the planet. They accomplish the everyday and the limited see them as amazing.

The only thing amazing about them is that they show us that we have no excuse not to be as amazing.

In the days when an ice cream sundae cost much less, a 10-year-old boy entered a hotel coffee shop and sat at a table. A waitress put a glass of water in front of him. “How much is an ice cream sundae?” he asked.

“Fifty cents,” replied the waitress.

The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and studied the coins in it. “Well, how much is a plain dish of ice cream?” he inquired. By now, more people were waiting for a table and the waitress was growing impatient.

“Thirty-five cents,” she brusquely replied.

The little boy again counted his coins. “I’ll have the plain ice cream,” he said.

The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away. The boy finished the ice cream, paid the cashier and left. When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table. There, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies. You see, he couldn’t have the sundae, because he had to have enough left to leave her a tip.

I was directed to this story by my Dad. The author was listed as unknown when I found it. Whoever is responsible for the telling of it has undoubtedly been a blessing to all who read it. Thank you and as always, Glory to God.

There is a story many years ago of an elementary teacher. Her name was Mrs. Thompson. And as she stood in front of her 5th grade class on her very first day of school, she told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. But that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he didn’t play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X’s and then putting a big “F” at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child’s past records and she put Teddy’s off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise. Teddy’s first grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners… he is a joy to be around.” His second grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle.” His third grade teacher wrote, “His mother’s death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn’t show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren’t taken.” Teddy’s fourth grade teacher wrote, “Teddy is withdrawn and doesn’t show much interest in school. He doesn’t have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class.”

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy’s. His present which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one quarter full of perfume. But she stifled the children’s laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to.” After the children left she cried for at least an hour.

On that very day, she quit teaching reading, and writing, and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one her “teacher’s pets.”

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in his whole life. Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he’d stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had in his whole life. Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor’s degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer-the letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.

The story doesn’t end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he’d met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the place at the wedding that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together. They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson’s ear, “Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference.” Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back. She said, “Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn’t know how to teach until I met you.”