Thursday, 17 December 2009

Would You Have Done the Same...?


At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: 'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?'

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'

Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'

Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. His Father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.

Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first! Run to first!' Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball .... the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third! Shay, run to third!'

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!' Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'.

Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

Monday, 10 August 2009

Sunday, 14 June 2009

Monday, 8 June 2009

Smile in the Face of Adversity...

A video featuring an amazing and courageous toddler from West Virginia, who battled a rare brain tumor. "Big Ben" Bowen died on February 25,2005 at the young age of 2, but not without inspiring scores of people who came across his story in real life, and on the internet.


Friday, 5 June 2009

The Genius of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan


I have forgotten how much I love Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's music until I came across this video a while ago. I first heard his music in 2001, and fell in love with qawwali almost immediately. It did not matter that the language was (and is) alien to me...mesmerise me, it did. Music is universal, some say, and I did not understand the true meaning of that statement until I heard this man sing...


Saturday, 21 March 2009

Kabhi Kabhi Mere Dil Mein...


Kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai,
ke jaise tujko banaya gaya hai mere liye.
Tu ab se pehle sitaron mein bas rahi thi kahin,
Tujhe zameen pe bulaya gaya hai mere liye

Sometimes this thought comes to my mind,
that you were made just for me.
That you were among the stars up in heaven,
and brought to earth just for me...




Thursday, 19 March 2009

Saarasam...


I came across this rare video featuring P.U. Chinnappa a while ago. I have always adored this man's singing since the time my brothers introduced me to his music. That, coupled with hearing my late appa sing praises of the man for the remarkable actor and singer that he was, I grew to have his songs imprinted on my mind even though the cassette of his songs is long gone from my possession. It takes a true thamizhian with an undying passion for his or her roots to appreciate an old-time favourite like this one. God bless my appa's soul for instilling that passion in me...

For the uninitiated, the man singing the song in the video is P.U. Chinnappa himself, and he was also the man who actually sang the song. Unlike the many tone-deaf actors these days, actors in the olden days had to be able to sing in order to make it as an actor.




Saturday, 7 March 2009

A Woman's Love Must Be Such...


Giving birth to love so pure,
a woman awakes - a lover,
with an unborn child in hand.

Friday, 27 February 2009

A Poem That Caught My Fancy...


It doesn't interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your
fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."

It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after a night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

© 1995 by Oriah House, From "Dreams Of Desire"
Published by Mountain Dreaming, 300 Coxwell Avenue, Box 22546, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4L 2A0

Tuesday, 24 February 2009

I Am Gone Man, Solid Gone...





To Be More Accepting of Life...


I can't say that I have been a very righteous person in the past 39 years of my life. Neither have I lived my life as usefully or meaningfully as some people have. Flaws I have many. Mistakes I have made aplenty. And many a time I had reflected on my life trying to list my achievements - only to find the attempted list failing to form itself, not out of modesty but out of its recognition of truth. It's not been easy, of course - living the life of an underachiever who is incidentally trapped in the mind, heart and soul of a big dreamer.

With age comes wisdom, some say. While I would never dare describe myself as even remotely wise, I must admit that I do these days sense in myself a stronger presence of my inner voice.

I grew up among lovely people who raised me on very strong values, but with those values they also added generous dashes of judgmental tendencies. It seemed like an enlightened thing to do then, this sizing up of others in comparison to what we believed to be acceptable or proper - not that we did it with the intention to hurt or ridicule anyone - there was not a single cruel bone in any one of us. But we thought we knew better than others. Perhaps, in some areas we did. But looking at it these days from the perspective of this 40-year old body, heart, mind and soul, I realise how wrongly we had interpreted wisdom then.

Who are we really to pass judgments based on what we believe to be right, or based on what our elders believed to be true. For that matter what is truth except that which appears truer to one person, more than it does to another? Why can't we live life in total acceptance of all that surround us, allowing what we view to be unpleasant to change on its own accord, if at all change is necessary. Only when we come to the realisation that every person who crosses our path is a teacher in some way or other,and that the lessons they have to offer can enrich us, if not now, at some point in our lives - only then can we confidently say that we understand ourselves and the world better.

We are but a mirror of all that surround us, what we see in others are possibly present in ourselves too. If only we have the humility to acknowledge that, life will offer valuable lessons by the minute, making us love ourselves more, which in turn would add joy to our life, and to those who form a part of that life.

As I end this post, I am reminded of one of Chandrababu's songs that I listen to regularly on my way to work. One of its stanzas goes like this,

Annaiyin kaiyil aaduvathinbam
Kanniyin kaiyil saaivathuminbam
Thannai maranthaal unmayil inbam
Thannalam maranthaal perumpaerinbam

Indeed, the true state of selflessness can only be achieved if one becomes more accepting of life in all humility...

Monday, 23 February 2009

The Magic of the Mellifluous Malayalees...


More than two decades ago, Chitra came into Tamil cinema with her honey-dipped voice and mesmerised tamil song lovers into giving her absolute command of tamil cinema songs for years. Before her, there was Vani Jayaram who may not have sung as many songs as P. Suseela or S. Janaki but had a decent following of her own, especially among those who had an inclination towards semi classical music.

Recently, listening to newcomer DeepaMiriam sing the infamous Kangal Irandal in an almost effortless divine voice, and remembering the fact that the man with the voice that soothed many a generation since his first song for tamil cinema Naanum Bommai Neeyum Bommai, KJ Yesudas, also hailed from God's Own Country, I cannot help but be convinced that the ownership of hauntingly sweet voices is the right of Malayalee singers alone. Adding weight to the list would be people like Unni Menon and Jayachandran, also Malayalee singers who probably had maintained a rather low profile but not without living their mark with a remarkable repertoire.

What is it that these Malayalee singers possess in their voices, I wonder...




The Many Faces of the late Sivaji Ganesan...

Found this on tamilnation.org and thought it was a lovely tribute to Sivaji Ganesan's greatness.




Sunday, 22 February 2009

Footprints in The Sand...


One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there were one set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed
that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from
anguish, sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord,
"You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during
the most trying periods of my life
there have only been one
set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most,
you have not been there for me?"

The Lord replied,
"The times when you have
seen only one set of footprints in the sand,
is when I carried you."

Mary Stevenson

Saturday, 21 February 2009

Come Here...





There's wind that blows in from the north.
And it says that loving takes this course.
Come here. Come here.
No I'm not impossible to touch I have never wanted you so much.
Come here. Come here.
Have I never laid down by your side.
Baby, let's forget about this pride.
Come here. Come here.
Well I'm in no hurry. Don't have to run away this time.
I know you're timid.
But it's gonna be all right this time.

Sunday, 15 February 2009

The Ultimate Riddle...




Nandhavanathil oru aandi avan
Naalaaru maathamai kuyavanai vendi
Kondu vandhan oru thondi
Adhai koothadi koothadi pottudaithaandi


Friday, 13 February 2009

Saturday, 7 February 2009

Discovering Kada-vul - Beyond and Within...


I have a love-hate relationship with Lord Muruga.

When I was a toddler, I was raised on Murugan songs. I say I was raised on songs instead of prayers because as a child, devotional Murugan songs appealed to me and moved me more than prayers did. Now as an adult, I understand why that was so. Singing, or hearing others sing praises of the lord is the simplest way to feel HIM within you, whether or not you want to. That probably explains why every Hindu saint is known to have composed some devotional song or other. And so, I grew up singing or hearing murugan songs sung by renowned singers from India. Sirgazhi Govindarajan, Bangalore Ramani Ammal, and Pithukuli Murugadas (a blind singer) were my classic favourites where Murugan songs were concerned. They had that special magic in their voices, and listening to their songs moves me to ecstatic tears even at this age.

Later, when I was in my teens, I became influenced by what was the "in thing" then among spiritualists, and ended up chanting Hare Krsna and believing that Krsna alone was God.

It's amazing how, among people born of the same faith, there exists a false sense of superiority about our 'gods'. The vaishnavites insist that Krsna/Vishnu alone is the saviour of the world, and yet would not mind saying hello in passing to the saivite gods - Muruga, Shiva, Vinagayar - which is often done with the same kind of sympathy the stronger often has for the weaker. The staunch saivites, on the other hand, stick to what they know best and worship their 'gods' with an almost fanatical devotion, allowing their faith to be infiltrated with the 'fairer gods' only when absolutely unavoidable.

I believe that faith too, like all else in one's life, can only be perfected over time, with experience. That which is fed to us by our parents can only remain true and applicable up to a certain phase of our lives. One's faith/spirituality is a very personal experience and can only be truly discovered on one's own.

There will come a time in our lives when we sense a closer connection to one in particular of the many gods we had been brought up on, or even to one we had not been familiar with till then. There is a term in thamizh - "ishta deivam" (the god who is close to your heart). That is not to say that the other gods who are not your 'ishta deivams' are unreal. They are all just as real as they are unreal to some.

But what is real to you is the one truth that you hold close to in your heart - the one whom you know you can turn to for inner guidance, the one you know and believe to direct your every action and thought, the one whose mere name fills your being with sheer ecstasy...














Wednesday, 4 February 2009

Angum Ingum...


Please turn a blind eye to the atrocious subtitling and enjoy the video in all its originality...




Blind I Am...


Blind to the fears of those around me,
I walk 'through' them unaffectedly
Pushing them off-balance as I go.

Monday, 2 February 2009

Could we have a little chat about my rebirth please...


If there is such a thing as rebirth, and if I am ever destined to be born yet again and again, I earnestly wish to be born in Tamil Nadu, and Tamil Nadu alone. This I tell YOU now, just in case I forget to in my old age, senility possibly having taken control of my mind then.

Saturday, 31 January 2009

A Lullaby for The Child of My Heart...

R.I.P. Nagesh...


I just heard the news in passing at the sundry shop I went to a while ago. The three indian ladies there were animatedly discussing it. I felt uneasy as I drove back, the same kind of unease I feel whenever I hear people of immense talent and greatness pass on. I can't say I am Nagesh's die-hard fan, but I have always adored his comedy. Afterall, this was a man whom I grew up identifying Thamizh cinema comedy with.

New comedians may and come and go, but Nagesh will remain a legend unforgotten for decades to come. I still remember how I kept replaying the movie Athey Kangal when I first came across it more than 15 years ago, just to watch his portrayal of the character Rosie again and again. The man must have had comedy infused within his being when he was born - for how else can one explain his perfect intonation for comedy, and how lithe his body always appeared as he jived his way into the hearts of thamizhians worldwide.

Alas, yet another thamizh cinema great has moved on, having perfectly played the role he was assigned to in this birth.

The scenes below were taken from Kathalikka Neramillai, in which Nagesh played the role of Chellappa, the aspiring director and son of estate owner Visvanathan played by T.S. Balaiya, a remarkable comedian himself.








Friday, 30 January 2009

Sweet...


A beautiful song in a movie from the nineties that has stood the test of time despite a lousy storyline and an equally lousy cast, thanks to Ilayaraja's classic composition and Yesudass's divine voice...


One Against The Other...


Icy winds blow my way,
ruffled, I turn away,
my feet planted firmly on the spot.

Tuesday, 27 January 2009

It's Been Difficult Without You...


Tears streamed down my cheeks,
as I touched your face a while ago.

A picture though you have now become.
Absent though you are in body and flesh.
I keep wishing I could have you back in whole.

A selfish wish that is, I know.
But it's been difficult without you amma.
I am lost like a child without your physical presence in my life.

I wish you would show me a sign,
that you are still here with me, within me.
I need you now more than ever.
Much more than when you were physically here.

Come guide me, won't you,
come guide your lastborn,
as she struggles...
to stay worthy of the role you left her with.

Friday, 23 January 2009

Friday, 16 January 2009

Ramblings of a Sleep-doused Woman on an Equally Sleepy Afternoon...


I started this blog a little more than a year ago with the intention of making it my 'practice-ground'.

As I reflect today on all that I had written (and unwritten) in it, I realise how effective a "teacher" this blog has been to me in the past one year. It was this blog that made me realise that I too could write some poetry, lousy though they may be in comparison to others'. But write I did - one poem after another - as easily as I breathed. I suppose that was a different phase than what I am going through now.

These days poetry comes to me only occassionally. It asks triggers of me that I cannot offer at its whims and fancies. It longs for an artistic muse who no longer exists in my life. And so nowadays, I find myself compensating (poems) with prose in retaliation. Though somewhat more tedious, prose appears to be less demanding on me. It (prose) forms itself as I type away, independently stringing the words I have in my head into comprehensible sentences, and then into coherent paragraphs. And yes, less clingy they are too.

Perhaps, poetry came into my life so that I could get it out of my system once and for all. Now, there won't be any regret. would there? Poetry in. Poetry out. Score settled. The page is empty once again to start anew. Yet another year. Yet another 'chapter' to be written.

Only this time around, the 'chapter' has to lead to another...and another, and another...

Heck, must everything I write make sense ? I think not, and this post is a classic example.


Thursday, 15 January 2009

Bharathi's Romanticism in Hariharan's Voice...






Suttum vizhich chudar thaan kannamma sooriya chandhiraro.
Vattakkariya vizhi kannamma vaanak karumai kollo.
Pattukkaru neela pudavai, padiththa nal vairam.
Natta nadu nisiyil, theriyum, nakshathirangaladi.

Solai malar oliyo, unadhu sundharappunnagai thaan.
Neelak kadal alaye, unadhu nenjin alaigaladi.
Kolakkuyil osai unadhu, kuralin inimaiadi.
Vaalaik kumariyadi kannama, maruvakkaadhal konden.

Saaththiram pesugirai kannamma, saaththiram edhukkadi.
Aaththiram kondavarke kannamma, saaththiram undodi.
Mooththavar sammadhiyil vadhuvai, muraigai pinbu seivom.
Kaaththiruppenodi, idhu paar, kannaththu muththam ondru

Wednesday, 14 January 2009

Malaysian Artistes Unite in Pretentiousness...


The song's good and catchy. Would have been a commendable effort had it not been for the artistes' pretentious, overly-done body language and facial expression. In their attempt to be casual and cool, our Malaysian artistes end up acting as silly and aimless as anyone possibly could. But then again, what else is new with Malaysian creativity, and mentality...




Sunday, 11 January 2009

Wind Beneath My Wings by Bette Midler...





A Thought Provoking Read...


(The article below appeared in a local daily today).

A MAN sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule.

A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and continued to walk.

A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.

The one who paid the most attention was a three-year-old boy. His mother tagged him along, but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time.

This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

In the 45 minutes the musician played, only six people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk at their normal pace. He collected US$32 (RM112). When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written with a violin worth US$3.5mil (RM12.25mil).

Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theatre in Boston and the seats average US$100 (RM350).

This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organised by the Washington Post as part of an social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people.

The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognise the talent in an unexpected context?

One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be:

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing?

Wednesday, 7 January 2009

Arrogance Loses Out to Grace...


I can't help but think that Padmini's effortless grace makes Vyjayanthimala's moves appear a tad too crass in this dance video. While it's true that the latter's role in the movie Vanjikohtai Vaaliban called for royal arrogance, she could have done more justice to the dance than allow that arrogance to permeate her physical moves. Even an evil woman must have some grace surely...especially when she is dancing...




Monday, 5 January 2009

The Best of The Worst...


I have a soft spot for all of Sivaji's movies...but Baga Pirivinai remains one of my hot favourites for its simple storyline, the remarkable acting of 4 of tamizh cinema's greatest actors - Sivaji Ganesan, T.S. Balaiya, S.V. Suppiah, M.R. Radha, and (this may come as a surprise) Saroja Devi's subtle beauty and sensitive acting. She has never been my type of actress, but this is one movie where you cannot but love her humble, village damsel character.

I am not one of those who "brand" actors based on the many lousy roles that they play in their acting careers...I am the sort who appreciates one as a good actor based on his/her ability to act, even if he/she was able to display that ability only in one or two movies. Give a dog a bad name and hang him is not my style.

And so, yes, I do love Saroja Devi's acting in this movie...though she did, in her later years, turn into a barbie doll of an actress. On a similar note, I do also like Vijayakanth for his better movies (eg. Chinna Goundar) much as I hate his present "bullet-proof" image. And yeap...the same goes for the 3-inch-makeup and 5-layer-bright-red-lipstick-donning Ramarajan for his natural portrayal of a karagattam artiste in Karagaattakaran. :)

So there... sue me...:)


Sunday, 4 January 2009

The Pygmalion Effect...


In George Bernard Shaw's play Pygmalion, Eliza Doolittle says to Professor Higgins' friend Pickering:-

"You see, really and truly, apart from the things anyone can pick up (the dressing and the proper way of speaking and so on), the difference between a lady and a flower girl is not how she behaves, but how she's treated. I shall always be a flower girl to Professor Higgins, because he always treats me as a flower girl, and always will, but I know I can be a lady to you because you always treat me as a lady, and always will."

Faith is the deciding factor...


Yesterday I watched a small bird, flying VERY fast, disappear into the canopy of an oak tree. So dense were its leaves, that it was impossible to see what happened next, though I can tell you it remained inside.

I wondered about how the little bird found its opening through the leaves at such a speed, and then manage to gently alight its fragile body on the branch it chose to land, all within a FRACTION of a second. Not to mention the impossible to imagine flying maneuvers required, the banking, the curling, the vertical and horizontal stabilizations, the deceleration and landing.

Memory? Calculation? Not in that tiny brain. Instinct? Maybe, but how does instinct know which way the branches of a tree have grown, when no two are the same?

That little bird JUST KNEW. It knew...in spite of NOT being able to SEE HOW things would work out... that if (and only if) it stayed the course, THE DETAILS would be taken care of... that an opening would appear and a twig be found. In fact, had she slowed down ENOUGH to carefully and logically inspect the tree first, the prudent thing to do, she would have fallen to the ground.

Kind of like us reaching our goals. Neither memory, nor calculating, nor instincts are the deciding factors, but faith.

The above piece was written by Mike Dooley aka The Universe (taken from www.inspirationpeak.com)