Welcome to my world

Moj prijatelj otvori jednu od ladica koja je pripadala njegovoj ženi i izvadi jedan zamotuljak u rižinom papiru i reče: "Ovo nije bilo šta, ovo je nešto specijalno". Odmotao je paketić i odbacio papir, i onda se duboko zagledao u biranu svilu i čipku. Ona je ovo kupila kad smo bili prvi put u Londonu, pre otprilike osam ili devet godina. Nije to nikada upotrebila. Čuvala je to za neku "specijalnu priliku".

"Dobro, ja mislim da je sada prigodna prilika za to". Prišao je krevetu i položio rublje pored druge garderobe koju će ona imati na pogrebu. Njegova žena je umrla.

Okrenu se prema meni i reče: "Ne čuvaj nikada ništa za neke specijalne prilike, svaki dan u tvom životu je specijalan".

Još uvek mislim na njegove reči, one su promenile moj život. Više čitam, a čistim manje. Sedim na terasi i uživam u pejzažu, i ne smeta mi korov u vrtu. Provodim više vremena s porodicom, a manje na poslu. Shvatio sam da je život u suštini jedna celina ispunjena užicima, a ne kurs preživljavanja. Više ništa ne čuvam. Upotrebljavam moje kristalne čaše svaki dan. Obučem moj novi sako, kad idem u supermarket, ako mi je želja. Ja ne čuvam moj najbolji parfem za specijalne izlaske, ja ga upotrebljavam uvek kad poželim. Fraze: "jednog dana" i "jednog od ovih dana" su nestale iz mog rečnika. Ako nešto vredi videti, slušati ili raditi, onda ja to želim videti, slušati ili raditi SADA. Ja nisam siguran u to šta bi žena mog prijatelja uradila da je samo znala da je neće biti ovde sutra, u šta mi svi verujemo. Ja mislim da bi ona bila više u kontaktu sa svojom familijom, svojim najbližim prijateljima. Ona bi možda nazvala svoje stare prijatelje i molila za oproštaj za neke nesporazume, i pomirila se s njima. Verujem da bi ona išla da jede u kineski restoran, to je njena omiljena hrana.

Upravo ove neurađene male stvari što meni smetaju, ako bih ja znao da su mi sati izbrojani. Smeta mi što sam prestao da srećem moje dobre prijatelje koje sam ja "jednog dana" hteo da kontaktiram. Smeta mi što ne pišem pisma, koje sam mislio da pišem "jednog od ovih dana". Smeta mi i žao mi je što nisam rekao mojim roditeljima, mojoj braći i deci, češće, koliko ih volim.

Sada pokušavam da ne zakasnim, ne držim po strani, ili čuvam nešto, što može obogatiti naš život smehom ili radošću. I svaki dan kažem sebi samom da je danas jedan specijalan dan... Svaki dan, svaki sat, svaki minut je specijalan.

"Jednog od ovih dana" je tako daleko... Ponekad ne dođe nikada više...

"So, you would like to interview me?", God asked. 

"If you have the time", I said. 

God smiled. "My time is eternity. What questions do you have in mind for me?"

"What surprises you most about humankind?"

God answered: "That they get bored with childhood, they rush to grow up, and then long to be children again. That they lose their health to make money, and then lose their money to restore their health. That by thinking anxiously about the future, they forget the present, such that they live in neither the present nor the future. That they live as if they will never die, and die as though they had never lived."

God’s hand took mine and we were silent for a while. And then I asked: "As a parent, what are some of life’s lessons you want your children to learn?"

"To learn they cannot make anyone love them. All they can do is let themselves be loved. To learn that it is not good to compare themselves to others. To learn to forgive by practicing forgiveness. To learn that it only takes a few seconds to open profound wounds in those they love, and it can take many years to heal them. To learn that a rich person is not one who has the most, but is one who needs the least. To learn that there are people who love them dearly, but simply have not yet learned how to express or show their feelings. To learn that two people can look at the same thing and see it differently. To learn that it is not enough that they forgive one another, but they must also forgive themselves."

Dakle, ti bi želeo da razgovaraš sa mnom?", reče Bog.

"Ako imaš vremena", rekoh.

Bog se nasmeši. "Moje je vreme večnost. Šta si me hteo pitati?"

"Šta te najviše iznenađuje kod ljudi?"

Bog odgovori: "Što im je detinjstvo dosadno. Žure da odrastu, a potom bi želeli ponovo biti deca. Što troše zdravlje da bi stekli novac, pa potom troše novac da bi vratili zdravlje. Što razmišljaju usko o budućnosti, zaboravljajući sadašnjost. Na taj način ne žive ni u sadašnjosti ni u budućnosti. Što žive kao da nikada neće umreti, a onda umiru kao da nikada nisu živeli."

Bog me primi za ruku. Ostadosmo na trenutak u tišini.

Tada upitah: "Kao roditelj, koje bi životne pouke želeo da tvoja deca nauče?"

Osmehujući se, Bog odgovori:

"Da nauče da nikoga ne mogu prisiliti da ih voli. Mogu samo voleti. Da nauče da nije najvrednije ono što poseduju, nego ko su u svom životu. Da nauče kako se nije dobro upoređivati s drugima... Da nauče kako nije bogat onaj čovek koji najviše ima, nego onaj kojem najmanje treba. Da nauče kako je dovoljno samo nekoliko sekundi da se duboko povredi voljeno biće, a potom su potrebne godine da se izleči. Da nauče opraštati tako da sami opraštaju. Da spoznaju kako postoje osobe koje ih nežno vole, ali to ne znaju izreći niti pokazati. Da nauče da se novcem može kupiti sve, osim sreće i ljubavi. Da nauče da dve osobe mogu promatrati istu stvar, a videti je različito. Da nauče da je pravi prijatelj onaj koji zna sve o njima, a ipak ih voli. Da nauče kako nije uvek dovoljno da im drugi oproste. Moraju i sami sebi opraštati.

Ljudi će zaboraviti šta si rekao.
Ljudi će zaboraviti šta si učinio.
Ali nikada neće zaboraviti kakve si osećaje u njima pobudio.''

I don't recall what I had been eating prior to such events, but twice in memory I was not only locked and loaded for shock and awe, but I was also riding a public bus!

On a moving bus there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. It is literally a target-rich environment, in which everyone still breathing gets a little. It's only a question of the number of open windows, the thread count of my shorts, the thermodynamic properties of my fart (measured in BTU's per cubic inch at standard ass temperature and pressure), and the apparent temperature of the exothermic exhaust against my sphinctronic nozzle. So, as my grandfather used to say: "Take deep breaths -- there's enough for everybody!"

Thus begins Episode I: The Phantom Anus. Turmoil has engulfed my lower intestinal tract as the processing of certain foods is in dispute. Hoping to resolve the matter with a blockade of stubborn turds, the difficult and uncooperative Digestive System has stopped all shipping to the small port of Button-hole. While unsuspecting passengers endlessly endure an otherwise dull bus ride, my ass has secretly dispatched two rancid assassination farts -- the bane of city transit's number twenty-six bus line -- to seal the fates of all on board.

I was on my way to high school one morning in early summer when out came my fart. It was all I could do to keep it clean and quiet. And thus my anus muttered a quiet "ba-fufffff... frawffffffffff." This deuce of bad boys was searing hot (for all I could tell they were wreathed in flame) and utterly putrid. The vileness was unparalleled. It was, without any doubt whatsoever, extremely objectionable. And oh-my-gosh did it have staying power! The cloud was colorless, of course; but I must say that if somehow it could have been assigned a color, it would surely have been dark acid green, or perhaps the color of chlorine gas.

Passengers' reactions were a thing to behold. I heard gasps of disgust. Mutters of discontent. The kill zone grew as, with the dispersal of the cloud to which I had just given birth, certain windows were thrown roughly open. In order to avert suspicion I played along, frowning, shaking my head a little, and throwing open my own window. By all odds, it would have been hard to say for sure who the perp was. The best part, however, was being rewarded with the sight of the face of a man who had just boarded the bus and was en route down the aisle to a seat somewhere behind me turn suddenly from a visage of calm into a scowl of disbelief and contempt, directed at no one in particular, or perhaps at everyone in general.

Fast-forward twelve years to Episode II: Attack of the Colons. There is unrest in my large intestines. Several thousand cc's of turdular fumes have declared their intention to leave the Digestive System. This bowel movement, under the leadership of the mysterious Count Dookie, has made it difficult for me to unload when no one is nearby, in my attempt to maintain peace and order around my wife. My ass, wanted in connection with the poisoning of several transit riders twelve years prior, has returned to the bus system to instigate another deadly round of Enjoy A Free Sample On Me.

I was returning home on the last leg of a six-hour journey consisting of a car ride, a ferry ride, and a long ride on city transit. When visiting the family for the weekend, my insides usually don't work all that well, and so things get a little backed up. When they got moving again, it was one round of nasty-ass butt-bombs after another. They were reasonably hot -- not the searing fire described above, but still well to the right of "warm." What made them special was that they were being manufactured and released at regular intervals. You know when you have a regular series of farts and then all of a sudden the time between farts increases dramatically but the smell and temperature gets exponentially worse? I was now at that point.

But before describing the fart that won the day, first let me explain the conditions in which I now found myself. A bus bound from the ferry terminal was carrying me, my wife, and several dozen other passengers and their stuff. It was summer, late at night, and there was a window open somewhere in the front and also somewhere in the back. Or perhaps the emergency exit hatches in the ceiling were cracked open -- either way, the effect was that there was a light, steady breeze of air from the front to the back of the bus. There was also no more room for anyone; my luggage was on my lap, my wife was seated next to me, and the aisle was full of people standing. Oh, and it was dark, too, except for a few lights on at the very back of the bus.

In that area at the very back of the bus sat a group of young teenage girls who had just reached the age where the mouth runs free but the brain has yet to be connected. A gaggle of teenage girls, brains in neutral, mouths redlining and the pedal jammed right through the firewall. I, my wife, the driver, and every single passenger on board were subjected to a continuous stream of statements that went something along the lines of, "Oh. My. God. Last weekend? My friend Becky? Shecallsmeandshe'slike, 'ohmygodyesterdayatthemall thisguywaslookingatmeandmy friendandmyfriendwaslike ohmygodandIwaslike ohmygodandwelookedateach otherandwewerelikeohmygod -- '"

At approximately eleven hundred hours, it seems that my brain received flash traffic from my ass that a lethal charge of sphinctrous sphinctride was locked and loaded. My next move was decided after the realization that no way would anyone know by whom this one was dealt. I was sitting with my wife on my left and the crowded, darkened aisle, with the slow breeze blowing down it, on my right; and so I lifted, ever so slightly, one side of my backside and performed the time-honored Right Cheek Sneak, loosing the compressed pocket of penultimate stench unto the huddled masses.

Perhaps due to the Venturi effect, the gas charge quickly entered the Intrabus Air Current and reconfigured itself from a tiny painful pocket of sour acid fume into a broad, miasmic fartstrosity. Riding the summer breeze (makes me feel fine / blowin' through the jasmine in my mind), it snaked its way through the legs and luggage of standees, up the back stairs, and onward until it met and infiltrated the nasal passages of the aforementioned council of prepubescent female philosophers expounding loudly on their experiences at the mall, on the phone, and at school. Then and there, t'was uttered a bold assertion, borne of wisdom beyond their years. Verily I say unto thee, truer words were never heard on that long bus ride: "Oh, my god, that's gross!"

If you want to be recognized—wonderful. If you want to be great—wonderful. But recognize that he who is greatest among you shall be your servant. (Amen) That's a new definition of greatness.

And this morning, the thing that I like about it: by giving that definition of greatness, it means that everybody can be great, (Everybody) because everybody can serve. (Amen) You don't have to have a college degree to serve. (All right) You don't have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve. You don't have to know about Plato and Aristotle to serve. You don't have to know Einstein's theory of relativity to serve. You don't have to know the second theory of thermodynamics in physics to serve. (Amen) You only need a heart full of grace, (Yes, sir, Amen) a soul generated by love. (Yes) And you can be that servant.

I know a man—and I just want to talk about him a minute, and maybe you will discover who I'm talking about as I go down the way (Yeah) because he was a great one. And he just went about serving. He was born in an obscure village, (Yes, sir) the child of a poor peasant woman. And then he grew up in still another obscure village, where he worked as a carpenter until he was thirty years old. (Amen) Then for three years, he just got on his feet, and he was an itinerant preacher. And he went about doing some things. He didn't have much. He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never had a family. (Yes) He never owned a house. He never went to college. He never visited a big city. He never went two hundred miles from where he was born. He did none of the usual things that the world would associate with greatness. He had no credentials but himself.

He was only thirty-three when the tide of public opinion turned against him. They called him a rabble-rouser. They called him a troublemaker. They said he was an agitator. (Glory to God) He practiced civil disobedience; he broke injunctions. And so he was turned over to his enemies and went through the mockery of a trial. And the irony of it all is that his friends turned him over to them. (Amen) One of his closest friends denied him. Another of his friends turned him over to his enemies. And while he was dying, the people who killed him gambled for his clothing, the only possession that he had in the world. (Lord help him) When he was dead he was buried in a borrowed tomb, through the pity of a friend.

Nineteen centuries have come and gone and today he stands as the most influential figure that ever entered human history. All of the armies that ever marched, all the navies that ever sailed, all the parliaments that ever sat, and all the kings that ever reigned put together (Yes) have not affected the life of man on this earth (Amen) as much as that one solitary life. His name may be a familiar one. (Jesus) But today I can hear them talking about him. Every now and then somebody says, "He's King of Kings." (Yes) And again I can hear somebody saying, "He's Lord of Lords." Somewhere else I can hear somebody saying, "In Christ there is no East nor West." (Yes) And then they go on and talk about, "In Him there's no North and South, but one great Fellowship of Love throughout the whole wide world." He didn't have anything. (Amen) He just went around serving and doing good.

What is the purpose of life? It is to become happy. Whatever country or society people live in, they all have the same deep desire: to become happy.

Yet, there are few ideals as difficult to grasp as that of happiness. In our daily life we constantly experience happiness and unhappiness, but we are still quite ignorant as to what happiness really is.

A young friend of mine once spent a long time trying to work out what happiness was, particularly happiness for women. When she first thought about happiness she saw it as a matter of becoming financially secure or getting married. (The view in Japanese society then was that happiness for a woman was only to be found in marriage.) But looking at friends who were married, she realized that marriage didn't necessarily guarantee happiness.

She saw couples who had been passionately in love suffering from discord soon after their wedding. She saw women who had married men with money or status but who fought constantly with their husbands.

Gradually, she realized that the secret of happiness lay in building a strong inner self that no trial or hardship could ruin. She saw that happiness for anyone - man or woman - does not come simply from having a formal education, from wealth or from marriage. It begins with having the strength to confront and conquer one's own weaknesses. Only then does it become possible to lead a truly happy life and enjoy a successful marriage.

She finally told me, "Now I can say with confidence that happiness doesn't exist in the past or in the future. It only exists within our state of life right now, here in the present, as we face the challenges of daily life."

I agree entirely. You yourself know best whether you are feeling joy or struggling with suffering. These things are not known to other people. Even a man who has great wealth, social recognition and many awards may still be shadowed by indescribable suffering deep in his heart. On the other hand, an elderly woman who is not fortunate financially, leading a simple life alone, may feel the sun of joy and happiness rising in her heart each day.

Happiness is not a life without problems, but rather the strength to overcome the problems that come our way. There is no such thing as a problem-free life; difficulties are unavoidable. But how we experience and react to our problems depends on us. Buddhism teaches that we are each responsible for our own happiness or unhappiness. Our vitality - the amount of energy or "life-force" we have - is in fact the single most important factor in determining whether or not we are happy.

True happiness is to be found within, in the state of our hearts. It does not exist on the far side of some distant mountains. It is within you, yourself. However much you try, you can never run away from yourself. And if you are weak, suffering will follow you wherever you go. You will never find happiness if you don't challenge your weaknesses and change yourself from within.

Happiness is to be found in the dynamism and energy of your own life as you struggle to overcome one obstacle after another. This is why I believe that a person who is active and free from fear is truly happy.

The challenges we face in life can be compared to a tall mountain, rising before a mountain climber. For someone who has not trained properly, whose muscles and reflexes are weak and slow, every inch of the climb will be filled with terror and pain. The exact same climb, however, will be a thrilling journey for someone who is prepared, whose legs and arms have been strengthened by constant training. With each step forward and up, beautiful new views will come into sight.

My teacher used to talk about two kinds of happiness - "relative" and "absolute" happiness. Relative happiness is happiness that depends on things outside ourselves: friends and family, surroundings, the size of our home or family income.

This is what we feel when a desire is fulfilled, or something we have longed for is obtained. While the happiness such things bring us is certainly real, the fact is that none of this lasts forever. Things change. People change. This kind of happiness shatters easily when external conditions alter.

Relative happiness is also based on comparison with others. We may feel this kind of happiness at having a newer or bigger home than the neighbours. But that feeling turns to misery the moment they start making new additions to theirs!

Absolute happiness, on the other hand, is something we must find within. It means establishing a state of life in which we are never defeated by trials and where just being alive is a source of great joy. This persists no matter what we might be lacking, or what might happen around us. A deep sense of joy is something which can only exist in the innermost reaches of our life, and which cannot be destroyed by any external forces. It is eternal and inexhaustible.

This kind of satisfaction is to be found in consistent and repeated effort, so that we can say: "Today, again, I did my very best. Today, again, I have no regrets. Today, again, I won." The accumulated result of such efforts is a life of great victory.

What we should compare is not ourselves against others. We should compare who we are today against who we were yesterday, who we are today against who we will be tomorrow. While this may seem simple and obvious, true happiness is found in a life of constant advancement. And the same worries that could have made us miserable can actually be a source of growth when we approach them with courage and wisdom.

One person whose dramatic life proved this was Natalia Satz, who founded the first children's theatre in Moscow. In the 1930s, she and her husband were marked by Soviet Union's secret police. Even though they were guilty of no crime, her husband was arrested and executed and she was sent to a prison camp in the frozen depths of Siberia.

After she recovered from the initial shock, she started looking at her situation, not with despair, but for opportunity. She realized that many of her fellow prisoners had special skills and talents. She began organizing a "university," encouraging the prisoners to share their knowledge. "You. You are a scientist. Teach us about science. You are an artist. Talk to us about art."

In this way, the boredom and terror of the prison camp were transformed into the joy of learning and teaching. Eventually, Mrs. Satz even made use of her own unique talents to organize a theater group. She survived the five-year prison sentence, and dedicated the rest of her long life to creating children's theater. When we met for the first time in Moscow in 1981, she was already in her 80s. She was as radiant and buoyant as a young girl. Her smile was the smile of someone who has triumphed over the hardships of life. Hers is the kind of spirit I had in mind when I wrote the following poem on "Happiness":

A person with a vast heart is happy.
Such a person lives each day with a broad and embracing spirit.
A person with a strong will is happy.
Such a person can confidently enjoy life, never defeated by suffering.
A person with a profound spirit is happy.
Such a person can savor life's depths
while creating meaning and value that will last for eternity.
A person with a pure mind is happy.
Such a person is always surrounded by refreshing breezes of joy.

Death is something no one can escape from. It follows life as surely as night follows day, winter follows autumn or old age follows youth. People make preparations so that they won't suffer when winter comes. They prepare so they won't have to suffer in their old age. Yet how few people prepare for the even greater certainty of death!

Modern society has turned its gaze away from this most fundamental issue. For most people, death is something to be feared, to be dreaded, or it is seen as just the absence of life - blankness and void. Death has even come to be considered somehow "unnatural."

What is death? What becomes of us after we die? We can try to ignore these questions. Many people do. But if we ignore death, I believe that we are condemned to live a shallow existence, to live "hand to mouth" spiritually. We may assure ourselves that we will somehow deal with death "when the time comes." Some people keep busily engaged in a constant stream of tasks in order to avoid thinking about the fundamental issues of life and death. But in such a state of mind, the joys we feel will ultimately be fragile, shadowed by the inescapable presence of death. It is my firm belief that facing the issue of death can help bring real stability, peace and depth to our lives.

What, then, is death? Is it just extinction, a lapse into nothingness? Or is it the doorway to new life, a transformation rather than an ending? Is life nothing more than a fleeting phase of activity preceded and followed by stillness and nonexistence? Or does it have a deeper continuity, persisting beyond death in some form or other?

Buddhism views the idea that our lives end with death as a serious delusion. It sees everything in the universe, everything that happens, as part of a vast living web of interconnection. The vibrant energy we call life which flows throughout the universe has no beginning and no end. Life is a continuous, dynamic process of change. Why then should human life be the one exception? Why should our existence be an arbitrary, one-shot deal, disconnected from the universal rhythms of life?

We now know that stars and galaxies are born, live out their natural span, and die. What applies to the vast realities of the universe applies equally to the miniature realms of our bodies. From a purely physical perspective, our bodies are composed of the same materials and chemical compounds as the distant galaxies. In this sense we are quite literally children of the stars.

The human body consists of some 60 trillion individual cells, and life is the vital force that harmonizes the infinitely complex functioning of this mind-boggling number of individual cells. Each moment, untold numbers of cells are dying and being replaced by the birth of new cells. At this level, daily we experience the cycles of birth and death.

On a very practical level, death is necessary. If people lived forever, they would eventually start to long for death. Without death, we would face a whole new array of problems--from overpopulation to people having to live forever in aged bodies. Death makes room for renewal and regeneration.

Death should therefore be appreciated, like life, as a blessing. Buddhism views death as a period of rest, like sleep, by which life regains energy and prepares for new cycles of living. Thus there is no reason to fear death, to hate or seek to banish it from our minds.

Death does not discriminate; it strips of us everything. Fame, wealth and power are all useless in the unadorned reality of the final moments of life. When the time comes, we will have only ourselves to rely on. This is a solemn confrontation that we must face armed only with our raw humanity, the actual record of what we have done, how we have chosen to live our lives, asking, "Have I lived true to myself? What have I contributed to the world? What are my satisfactions or regrets."

To die well, one must have lived well. For those who have lived true to their convictions, who have worked to bring happiness to others, death can come as a comforting rest, like the well-earned sleep that follows a day of enjoyable exertion.

I was impressed a few years ago to learn of the attitude of a friend of mine, David Norton, professor of philosophy at the University of Delaware, toward his own approaching death.

When he was only seventeen, the young David had become a "smoke jumper," a volunteer fire fighter who parachuted into inaccessible areas to cut trees and dig trenches to keep fires from spreading. He did this, he said, in order to learn to face his own fear.

When, in his mid sixties, he was diagnosed with advanced cancer, he faced death head-on and found that the pain did not defeat him. Nor did he find dying a lonely or solitary experience, according to his wife, Mary. She later told me that he felt he was surrounded by all his friends and said that her husband had faced death without fear, regarding it as "another adventure; the same kind of test as facing a forest fire."

"I guess the first thing about such an adventure", Mary said, "is that it's an opportunity to challenge yourself. It's getting yourself out of situations that are comfortable, where you know what goes, and where you don't have to worry. It's an opportunity to grow. It's a chance to become what you need to be. But it's one that you must face without fear."

An awareness of death enables us to live each day-each moment-filled with appreciation for the unique opportunity we have to create something of our time on Earth. I believe that in order to enjoy true happiness, we should live each moment as if it were our last. Today will never return. We may speak of the past or of the future, but the only reality we have is that of this present instant. And confronting the reality of death actually enables us to bring unlimited creativity, courage and joy into each instant of our lives.

When I was younger, I thought I had nothing to do with those who were elderly. I think most young people find it hard to believe that they themselves will grow old. The reality is however, that now I am among the "elderly," and I can't move with the speed and ease that I once did.

My teacher used to say that the last years of our life are the most important. If those last few years are happy ones, we have had a happy life.

Old age is a time of spiritual fruition and completion. When people are no longer pursuing position or status, money or material possessions, they can look closely at themselves and at the reality of life and death without the distractions of superficial concerns.

When you reach old age, you know in your heart if you have lived a satisfying life or not. No one else can know this or decide it for you. The single greatest challenge we each will face is whether we can honestly say at the end of our days on this Earth that our life has been well spent.

I believe that whether we can live a truly satisfying life to the end depends to a considerable extent on how we view death. Sadly, many older people are anxious and fearful about death. But, as a Buddhist, I find it helpful to compare the cycles of life and death to the daily rhythms of waking and sleeping. Just as we look forward to the rest sleep brings after the efforts and exertions of the day, death can be seen as a welcome period of rest and re-energizing in preparation for a new round of active life. And just as we enjoy the best sleep after a day in which we have done our very best, a calm and easy death can only follow a life lived to the fullest without any regrets.

It is natural for trees to bear fruit in the harvest season, and in the same way, "old age" is a period of ripening. It can be the most valuable time in human life, when we have rich experience, deeply polished character, and a pure and gentle heart. The loss of certain capacities with age is nothing to be ashamed of. Rather, I feel the various infirmities of age should even be seen as badges of honor and worn with pride.

There is a saying that goes, "To a fool, old age is a bitter winter; to a wise man it is a golden time." Everything depends on your own attitude, how you approach life. Do you view old age as a period of decline ending in death, or as a time in which one has the opportunity to attain one's goals and bring one's life to a rewarding and satisfying completion? The same period of old age will be dramatically different depending upon your own outlook.

I received a letter a few years ago from a woman in Kyoto who was then 67 years old. Her advice was as follows: "We need to banish any expression of defeat from our minds--statements or thoughts such as 'I can't do it,' 'I'm too old,' 'There's no point in my trying,' 'I'm past it,' or 'It's too hard.' Instead we should be telling ourselves: 'I won't give up yet,' 'I'm still young,' 'I can still do it,' 'I've still got plenty of energy.' Just by changing the way we speak to ourselves and others we can change our pattern of behavior in a positive direction."

Research shows that when people make continuous use of their powers of memory and concentration, these abilities need not fade. An active interest in others, finding new pastimes and making new friends--such positive attitudes have been shown to slow physical and mental decline.

Even though our bodies may age, if we maintain an active, positive attitude, our hearts and minds will remain "youthful" as long as we live.

To quote the poet Samuel Ullman, "Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, a quality of imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life."

It is vital to always look to the future, to have plans and aspirations-such an outlook is crucial to making the last years of one's life rewarding and fulfilling.

One woman whose youthful attitude greatly impressed me was the American painter known as "Grandma Moses." She had produced around fifteen hundred paintings by her death at the age of one hundred and one. Yet she didn't even start painting until she was seventy-five. She had never studied painting and was an ordinary farmer's wife until then.

She had faced many difficulties in her life. Five of her ten children died young, and she lost her husband when she was sixty-six. She said that though she had experienced real pain and hardship, she refused to be dragged down by suffering and always looked ahead.

Whatever she encountered, Grandma Moses strove to make each day and each moment shine with her smile. After her surviving children left home and her husband died, she refused to give in to loneliness or step back from life. She took up the challenge of painting, and her last years glowed like a beautiful sunset. She wrote, "I look back on my life like a good day's work. It was done and I feel satisfied with it. I was happy and contented. I knew nothing better and made the best out of what life offered. And life is what we make it; always has been, always will be."

There is a great difference between simply living a long life and living a full and rewarding life. What's really important is how much rich texture and color we can add to our lives during our stay here on Earth - however long that stay may be. Quality is the true value, not quantity.

Ako možeš da vidiš uništeno delo svog života

i bez reči da ga ponovo gradiš,

Ako bez uzdaha i protesta podneseš

gubitak onogo što si dugo čekao,

ako možeš da budeš zaljubljen, a ne i lud od ljubavi,

ako možeš da budeš jak, a da ipak ostaneš nežan,

da ne mrziš one koji tebe mrze,

a da se ipak braniš i da se boriš;

Ako možeš da slušaš kako tvoje reči

izvrću nevaljalci da razdraže glupake

i da čuješ kako luda usta o tebi lažu,

ako možeš da budes jednostavan iako si savetodavac kraljeva,

ako možeš da voliš svoje prijatelje kao braću,

a da ti ni jedan od njih ne bude sve i svja,

ako znaš da razmišljaš, da posmatraš i upoznaješ,

a da nikad ne postaneš skeptik i rušilac,

ako znaš da sanjariš, a da ti san ne bude gospodar,

da misliš, a da ne budeš samo maštalo,

ako možeš da budeš čvrst, a nikada divlji,

ako možeš da si hrabar, a nikada neobazriv,

ako možeš da budeš dobar, ako možeš da budeš pametan,

a da nisi čistunac i sitničar,

ako možeš da zadobiješ pobedu posle poraza

a da te dve varke podjednako primaš,

ako možeš da sačuvaš hrabrost i glavu kada je svi ostali gube,

tada će kraljevi - Sreća i Pobeda

biti zauvek tvoji poslušni robovi.

A ono što više vredi nego svi kraljevi i sve slave -

BIĆEŠ ČOVEK, sine moj!