The Chinese numbers

A friend shared to me this story over coffee this morning.

The Chinese numbers one, two and three are pretty easy to write. 一 yī (one), 二 èr (two) and 三 sān (three). Well, that's what a young boy thought. His father tried to teach him to write a number each day going from one to ten. By the time he had mastered writing the number three, the boy decided that he had no more need of his father's help.

"It's so easy," he confidently said. "All I have to do is to draw lines."

"Alright then, write the number 100," his father said.

The boy did as told. It took him more than an hour to write all the one hundred lines.

The Chinese character for the number four is 四 sì.

He wouldn't have gone through all the trouble if he had learnt to write the simple number four.

Gotta keep on swimming

I watched a crowd walking in the streets and wondered what their life stories could be. Many, many stories for sure. But if I categorized them, I would find that some stories tell of the optimistic souls and the other half, pessimistic. The fact of life is that life goes on no matter what our troubles are. So, it's best to remain positive all the time; to keep on swimming...

Two frogs fell into a deep cream bowl. One was an optimistic soul.
But the other took the gloomy view.
"We'll drown," he lamented,
and with a last despairing cry,
he flung up his legs and said "Goodbye."

The other frog said with a steadfast grin,
"I can't get out but I won't give in,
I'll just swim around till my strength is spent,
then I'll die the more content."
Bravely he swam to work his scheme,
and his struggles began to churn the cream.

The more he swam, his legs a flutter,
the more the cream turned into butter.
On top of the butter at last he stopped,
and out of the bowl he gaily hopped.

Just move on no matter what...

A prisoner of war tried to keep his sanity by singing. He sang all day, all night in his prison cell. Irritated by his singing, his captors cut his tongue. But that didn't stop him. So, he hummed the melody of his songs. This time, they removed his vocal chord. That silence him indeed. But not long afterwards, his captors found him dancing to the beat of his songs he played in his mind. He danced all day, all night. Irritated by his silent dance movements, they amputated his legs and arms. But soon after, they saw him moving his head forward and backward to the melody of the songs in his heart. Finally, the chopped his head. But his 'music' stayed with his fellow prisoners who, inspired by his outstanding courage, launched an attack against their captors and escaped to freedom.

The magic jar

I was on my way out to town this morning when I realised that two of my car tyres had been stolen. The thief/thieves also took away the toolbox. I will have to spend a lot of money to replace the tyres. But with only little hard-earned money left in my hand from a recent freelance writing job I did, I'm left to wonder how I could ever purchase the new tyres. The kids must go to school next week and I need to move about to do my work. So, I'm desperate for tyres. To cool mysef from anger, I searched for a story (by the way, anger is one better short of danger). Here's what I recalled:

A theft had occured in a village. Villagers went to see a priestess who was known for her wisdom and asked if she could perform some black magic on whoever was responsible. She told them that black magic was not a good thing and suggested another way. That evening, she called all the villagers together at her house. "Here's a magic jar." Then she gave the following instruction. "I want all of you to touch it. The jar will tell who among us is the culrprit." When all had understood, she turned off the light. After the last person had touched the jar, she turned the light back on. Apparently, she had smeared the jar with charcoal. Everyone who touched it had their their fingers blackened by the charcoal except the thief who did not do it for he was afraid that the so called magic jar would identify him. The police were later called to arrest him.

We think that we could hide in the dark but sometimes, it's in darkness that our true identity is revealed.

Today you voted

A friend forwarded me this story today. I find it humorous, so I'd like to share it with you. P.S. it's election fever in Sabah!

While walking down the street one day a Malaysia Boleh Minister is tragically hit by a truck and dies. His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance. "Welcome to heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a high official around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you." "No problem, just let me in," says the man. "Well, I'd like to, but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in hell and one in heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity." "Really, I have made up my mind. I want to be in heaven," says the Yang Berhormat "I'm sorry, but we have our rules," says St. Peter. And with that, St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a clubhouse and standing in front of it are all his friends and other politicians who had worked with him. Everyone is very happy and dressed in the finest batik there is. They run to greet him, shake his hand, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich at the expense of the people. They play a friendly game of golf and then indulge themselves on lobsters, caviar and the most expensive food there is. Also present is the devil, who really is a very friendly guy who has a good time dancing and telling jokes. They are having such a good time that before he realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a hearty farewell and waves while the elevator rises. The elevator goes up, up, up and the door reopens on heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him. "Now it' s time to visit heaven." So, 24 hours pass with the Yang Berhormat joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St.Peter returns. "Well, then, you've spent a day in hell and another in heaven. Now choose your eternity." The Yang Berhormat reflects for a minute, then he answers: "Well, I would never have said it before, I mean heaven has been delightful, but I think Ai yam better off in hell." So St. Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down to hell. Now the doors of the elevator open and he's in the middle of a barren land covered with waste and garbage. He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags as more trash falls from above. The devil comes over to him and puts his arm around his shoulder. "I don't understand," stammers the Yang Berhormat. "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and clubhouse, and we ate lobster and caviar, drank champagne, and danced and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and my friends look miserable. What happened?" The devil looks at him, smiles and says, "Yesterday we were campaigning." "Today you voted."

We've heard these before, haven't we?

Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart.

To handle yourself, use your head; To handle others, use your heart.

Anger is only one letter short of danger.

If someone betrays you once, it's his fault; if he betrays you twice, it's your fault.

Great minds discuss ideas; Average minds discuss events; Small minds discuss people.

God gives every bird it's food, but He does not throw it into it's nest.

He who loses money, loses much; He who loses a friend, loses more; He who loses faith, loses all.

Beautiful young people are acts of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art.

Learn from the mistakes of others. You can't live long enough to make them all yourself.

The tongue weighs practically nothing, but so few people can hold it.

Who is rich and who is poor?

One day a wealthy father took his son on a trip to a rural village so that the son could see how the poor indigenous people lived. They stayed overnight in a house of a poor villager and his family. When they got back from their trip, the father asked his son, "How was the trip?" "Very good, Dad!" "Did you see how poor people can be?" "Yes I did!" "And what did you learn?" The son answered, "I saw that we have a dog at home, and they have six. We have a pool, they have the river. We have imported lamps in the house; they have the stars. We buy our vegetables and fruits in the market; they get theirs free from the farm and forest." When the little boy was finished, the father was speechless. His son then added, "Thanks Dad for showing me how poor we are!"

The tale of the two clocks

The world needs some form of a final authority to ensure public public order. But does it really? Ponder the following stories.

Once upon a time, a famous inventor invented what he called a clock. No one questioned the authority of the clock in telling the time for it was the only one available in the world. Well, until another inventor invented another clock. From that time onwards, no one was sure of the time.

***************

"You're late," said a man to his friend.

"No, it's you who are early," replied his friend.