How now do we live ? - Plant Sunflowers

 

The Better Story: How Now Do We Live?

~Joshua Luke Smith

"Do you believe Beauty

can save the world?

That the stories told

within those trenches

were more powerful in

the hands of the soldiers

than their weapons?

And do you want to

starve out the madness

and restore

man's appetite

for sanity?

Do you want to come back

to clarity and conviction?

Do you want to build a society

on the foundations of wisdom

instead of self-serving ambition?

Well then plant a garden,

plant a garden in Babylon.

Bury your seeds in the soil

that you battled against for so long

because this is the only world

to which you will ever belong.

So turn your Exile into Eden and turn

turn your sorrow into a song.

Turn your rejection into the birth pains

of restoration, from your frustration,

the potential of growth, pull from your

suffering a morsel of Hope and forgive

your captors, forgive the ones that made

you bleed let them go.

For it is time for us to build,

no it is time for us to sew,

no it is time for us to

become the seed,

to live in proximity,

to lay our lives down

so that others one day can

simply breathe.

Empty the bonds in which

you've stolen.

Build a bigger table, invite

your enemies over for dinner

and open up your doors.

Love your neighbors like you

love yourself and love yourself

like you love your neighbours.

And for the love of God

remember the poor,

remember the poor

remember the poor.

Sweep your streets

like your paving gold

because in reality

you are.

How you do anything

is how you do everything.

Make your stand

against injustice loud.

No, make it deafening.."

~Joshua Luke Smith

The Better Story: How Now Do We Live?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsiB9uCMZ68

" A Boy named Carlo "

 

"A Boy Named Carlo"

Carlo sat on the cold, rusted rail by the train tracks, his small frame shivering despite the heat of the afternoon. His torn clothes barely clung to his body, his feet caked with dirt from wandering the streets. In his trembling hands, he clutched a plastic bag filled with solvent, pressing it against his nose. The fumes made his head light, made the hunger disappear—just for a little while.

He used to have a home. He used to have a mother who would run her fingers through his messy hair and a father who would lift him onto his shoulders, making him feel like he could touch the sky. But then, one day, his father left and never returned. His mother, overwhelmed and broken, fell into the hands of men who made promises they never kept. Soon, she too was gone.

Carlo was left alone.

The streets became his world. He learned to steal when he had to, beg when he could, and fight when necessary. But at night, when the city was quiet and the world seemed to forget about him, he curled into a ball under a broken streetlamp and whispered to the sky, "Mama, where are you?"

But the sky never answered.

Now, the solvent in his hands was his only escape. It took away the hunger, the sadness, the loneliness. It blurred the memories of warm arms that once held him, of laughter that used to echo through a tiny home.

He didn’t notice the train in the distance.

He didn’t hear the footsteps of strangers passing him by, their eyes full of pity but their hands empty of kindness.

Carlo was just another shadow in the city, another lost soul forgotten by the world.

And as the sun set, his small figure remained by the tracks, clinging to the only thing that numbed the pain—until even that wouldn’t be enough.

The fumes filled Carlo’s lungs, wrapping him in a false warmth, numbing the sharp pangs of hunger in his stomach. His vision blurred, the edges of the world melting into swirls of color and shadow. His small fingers loosened around the plastic bag, but the smell lingered, thick and heavy.

Then, he saw her.

A woman in a faded dress, standing just beyond the tracks, her arms open wide. Her face was soft, familiar—his mother.

"Mama?" Carlo whispered, blinking as tears welled in his tired eyes.

She was smiling, just like he remembered. Her voice, though distant, was calling his name. It had been so long since he had heard it spoken with love. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of confusion and longing.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, his frail legs struggling to keep him steady. His mind swam in the haze, but the vision of his mother pulled him forward. She was waiting for him, just on the other side of the tracks.

The distant rumble of a train went unnoticed.

Carlo stepped onto the rails, reaching out. "Mama, wait…"

The wind rushed past him, a deafening roar. The world tilted. The blinding headlights cut through the evening fog.

A screech of metal.

A dull thud.

Silence.

The city kept moving. The people kept walking. The world did not stop for a street boy lost to the tracks.

By morning, a stray dog sniffed at the spot where he had been. A few people gathered, murmuring about the nameless child who had met an unfortunate end. But soon, even their whispers faded.

And Carlo?

He was finally in his mother’s arms, in a place where hunger, loneliness, and pain no longer existed.

School Wall Art

 

 The best inspirational wall art should be bold, modern, and relatable. Here are some ideas and quotes that resonate journey of self-discovery, ambition, and resilience:

 Self-Confidence & Authenticity

· "Be yourself; everyone else is already taken." – Oscar Wilde

· "Your value doesn’t decrease based on someone’s inability to see your worth."

· "You are enough. You always have been. You always will be."

Dream Big & Take Action

· "Do something today that your future self will thank you for."

· "The only way to do great work is to love what you do." – Steve Jobs

· "Success doesn’t come from what you do occasionally, but what you do consistently."

 Overcoming Challenges

· "Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will." – Suzy Kassem

· "Failure is not the opposite of success, it’s part of success."

· "Every expert was once a beginner."

 Resilience & Strength

· "You were given this life because you are strong enough to live it."

· "It always seems impossible until it’s done." – Nelson Mandela

· "Tough times don’t last, but tough people do."

 Leadership & Kindness

· "Be the leader you wish you had."

· "Kindness is free. Sprinkle it everywhere."

· "The best way to predict the future is to create it." – Peter Drucker

What "Footprints" will you leave ?

 

WHAT IS LIFE LIKE?

A Story Worth Your Time.

One day, a boy asked his old grandfather,

"Grandpa, let me take this opportunity to ask a question; what is life like?"

The old man stood in thought for a moment, with a look of intense surprise on his face, then he said,

"Come, on boy! I want you to follow me to the market place, I need to buy a few things - a number of things, actually. When we return, I'll tell you what life is like. Let's go!"

The boy and his grandfather went to the market place in the town. They bought detergent, toothbrush, tissues, toilet paper, some vegetables, fruits, eggs, milk and fish. They spent a wonderful time together, had so much fun, told jokes, laughed a lot, and it was an incredible experience.

Later in the evening, they arrived home, tired and hungry, but delighted to have had such an enjoyable time together. The boy then asked his grandfather,

"So tell me, grandpa... what is life like?"

The old man said,

"Let me ask you a question first. What happened after we finished shopping at the market place?"

The boy answered,

"We came home."

The old man smiled broadly and whistled,

"Good! That is how life is! Life is like shopping at the market place; after you finished, you go home! Listen boy, life is like a market place. Everyone comes to the market to buy or sell. And when the market time is over, everyone goes back home. Some people came and forget what they want to buy, while some people came and buy what they want to buy and go. Some make the most out of every moment, while some dwell in sadness and regrets. Some leave early, some leave later, but all return home at one time or the other. Some are in a hurry, while a few are patient to order their steps. Whether or not you are doing well in life, you must go home one day. We are not here to stay forever. But the important question is; when we eventually return home, what will we bring from the market place? What type of footprints are we going to leave?"

 

Don't let harsh words affect you

 

" Don't let harsh words from people affect you "

A father saw that his 11-year-old son was crying silently. He asked him.

"What's the matter, son?"

The young boy replied.

"My rich classmates mocked, called me son of a gardener. They said that my father lives only on the money he earns from watering and feeding plants for people"

The father paused for a moment, then said.

"Come with me son, let's plant some flowers. It might cheer you up"

He held his hand and walked him to the garden, then he took out some flower seeds, and said.

"Let's carry out an experiment. We will plant two flowers separately. I will care for one, and you will care for the other. I will water mine with clean water from the lake but you will water yours with dirty water from the pond. We shall see the outcome in the weeks to come"

The son was delighted as he joined his father in planting the flowers. It took them some days to finally germinate the flower seeds. They cared for them respectively and watched them grow.

Later on, the father brought his son to the garden, and said to him.

"Look at the two flowers and tell me your observation"

The boy responded.

"My flower looks better and healthier than yours. How is that even possible when your water is cleaner?"

The father smiled, then said.

"That's because dirty water doesn't stop a plant from growing, rather it serves as organic fertilizer to help it flourish.

You see son, there are some people who put you down in life, mock your dreams, and throw dirt on you.

Always remember that there's nothing wrong with you, it is their ego they have to satisfy.

So, don't let the harsh words from people affect you, instead, let it encourage you into being a better person. And doing so, you will be like the plant and will flourish even in the midst of dirt like negativity and harsh words.

(Author Unknown).

 

The Black Telephone - " Information please "

 

The Black Telephone

Those of us old enough to remember when the phone was wired to the wall, usually in the kitchen, can relate to this story. I loved this read.

When I was a young boy, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighbourhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box.. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time.

My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbour. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.

The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlour and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlour and held it to my ear. "Information, please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my head.

A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information."

"I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience..

"Isn't your mother home?" came the question

"Nobody's home but me," I blubbered.

"Are you bleeding?" the voice asked

"No, "I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts."

"Can you open the icebox?" she asked.

I said I could.

"Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.

After that, I called "Information Please" for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math.

She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, "Information Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?"

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, " Wayne , always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please."

"Information," said in the now familiar voice.

"How do I spell fix?" I asked

All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest . When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston . I missed my friend very much.

"Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle . I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please."

Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.

"Information."

I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?"

There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now."

I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?"

"I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls."

I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister.

"Please do," she said. "Just ask for Sally."

Three months later I was back in Seattle .

A different voice answered, "Information."

I asked for Sally.

"Are you a friend?" she said.

"Yes, a very old friend," I answered.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," She said. "Sally had been working part time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago."

Before I could hang up, she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?" "

"Yes." I answered.

Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you. The note said, "Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean."

I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.

Never underestimate the impression you may make on others. Whose life have you touched today?