Sitting there at the softly lit reception hall, surrounded by powerful and elegant people, Amal felt this was the night she had been waiting for all her life. As the newest junior partner in the firm, at last she had been invited up to the chief executive officer's lavish estate for his semi-annual big bash. Corporate giants from all over the world made it a point to attend these parties, and only the "who's who" received invitations. She had heard that here was where the real deals were put together. These men and women were the power brokers, and she wanted to be a part of it all.

Once upon a time in a land with no rhyme
There lived a people in darkness, imprisoned by time.
Their lives were filled with sadness and fears
And, oh, how they cried many rivers of tears.

To describe them wasn’t an easy task
The first one looked the same as the last.
They were selfish and rude, all were ready to burst.
Each had the same name, “Me First,” “Me First.”

Over and over again, like the birds,
They quickly repeated their two favorite words.
“Give me, Give me,” they’d chant from the time they awoke
So they were known far and wide as the “Gimme Gimme” folk.

They had huge heads
Which made dents in their beds
Because rather than listening to their hearts
They only listened to their heads.

We all know what a financial bank account is. We make deposits into it and build up a reserve from which we can make withdrawals when we need to. An Emotional Bank Account is a metaphor that describes the amount of trust that's been built up in a relationship. It's the feeling of safeness you have with another human being.  If I make deposits into an Emotional Bank Account with you through courtesy, kindness, honesty, and keeping my commitments to you, I build up a reserve. Your trust toward me becomes higher, and I can call upon that trust many times if I need to. I can even make mistakes and that trust level, that emotional reserve, will compensate for it. My communication may not be clear, but you'll get my meaning anyway.

How do you react when you think that you need people's love?

Do you become a slave for their approval? Do you live an inauthentic life because you can't bear the thought that they might disapprove of you?

Do you try to figure out how they would like you to be, and then try to become that, like a chameleon?  In fact, you can never really get their love this way.  You try to turn into someone you are not, and then when they say "I Love You", you can't believe it, because they are loving a facade.  They are loving someone who doesn't exist, the person you are pretending to be. 

It is difficult to seek other people's love. 
It is deadly.
In seeking it, you lose what is genuine.

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree.
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown,
For the world was intent on dragging me down.

And if that weren't enough to ruin my day,
A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play.
He stood right before me with his head tilted down
And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight,
With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light.

While I was growing up, each chair at our family's kitchen table was spoken for. We kids had made our selections in the same sequence as our birth order-first come, first served, you might say-starting with me (the oldest) and followed by my sister and my two brothers.

I had picked the chair directly across from Dad. Everybody knew it as "Marcia's Chair." Sometimes, however, I would give up my chair for guests and it would become known by another name: the Crying Chair. Family, friends, and neighbors would sit in that chair when they needed a good cry, or someone to share their burdens with.

The comforting, musical sloshing and tinkling of the water, the only sounds in the otherwise quiet house, served to calm the air. The battle was over; a compromise had been struck, and the bath had been undertaken, albeit tentatively. At first, she had thought that he was only being stubborn and rude in his refusal to take a shower. Didn't getting cleaned up always make a person feel better? Didn't he realize how offensive his odor was? She'd even offered to do all the work, telling him that all he had to do was sit on the little bath stool. Still he'd refused. He had accused her of being bitchy and control¬ling: didn't she understand how weak he had become, how devastated by disease and pain?

The Pencil Maker took the pencil aside, just before putting him into the box.

"There are 5 things you need to know," he told the pencil, "before I send you out into the world. Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best pencil you can be."

"One: You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in Someone's hand."
"Two: You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, but you'll need it to become a better pencil."
"Three: You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make."
"Four: The most important part of you will always be what's inside."

There was once a stonecutter, who was dissatisfied with himself and with his position in life.

One day, he passed a wealthy merchant's house, and through the open gateway, saw many fine possessions and important visitors. "How powerful that merchant must be!" thought the stonecutter. He became very envious, and wished that he could be like the merchant. Then he would no longer have to live the life of a mere stonecutter.

A parable is told of a farmer who owned an old mule. The mule fell into the farmer's well. The farmer heard the mule 'braying' - or - whatever mules do when they fall into wells. After carefully assessing the situation, the farmer sympathized with the mule, but decided that neither the mule nor the well was worth the trouble of saving. Instead, he called his neighbors together and told them what had happened...and enlisted them to help haul dirt to bury the old mule in the well and put him out of his misery.

Initially, the old mule was hysterical! But as the farmer and his neighbors continued shoveling and the dirt hit his back...a thought struck him. It suddenly dawned on him that every time a shovel load of dirt landed on his back...He should shake it off and step up! This he did, blow after blow.