HOW CAN WE BE HAPPY ?
Once a group of 50 people was attending a seminar.
Suddenly the speaker stopped and decided to do a group activity. He started giving each one a balloon. Each one was asked to write his/her name on it using a marker pen. Then all the balloons were collected and put in another room.
Now these delegates were let in that room and asked to find the balloon which had their name written, within 5 minutes. Everyone was frantically searching for their name, colliding with each other, pushing around others and there was utter chaos.
At the end of 5 minutes no one could find their own balloon.
Now each one was asked to randomly collect a balloon and give it to the person whose name was written on it.
Within minutes everyone had their own balloon.
The speaker began— exactly this is happening in our lives. Everyone is frantically looking for happiness all around, not knowing where it is.
Our happiness lies in the happiness of other people. Give them their happiness; you will get your own happiness.
And this is the purpose of human life.
Listen to my Weird Wednesday radio show - wrhofm.com
doing work after midnight is one of the things I hate the most. Only 4 weeks in and I’ve already worked past midnight 2 nights in a row.
thats’s a paddlin;
I enjoy a light burn in the sun,
the sun can stretch the water in & out if you stare directly at dark particles,
it might be an allusion, ok!!
is there’s really such a thing as an allusion.
Flying Horses - Dispatch
Can it be summer now?Played 26 times.
Dorm full of people full of hairspray and makeup.
We cough cologne.
Shirts still wrinkled from a hurried wash this afternoon
Complement skirts that leave nothing to the imagination.
I dress for strangers.
I am thirsty.
The town is full of cop cars
Bracing themselves for street tussles,
Reassuring neighbors that yes, they will all go back to campus,
Praying for the underage kids they know will still get into bars
And picking up the ones who face-plant on the side of the road.
People drink themselves to death in this town.
Two hours after last call the streets are deserted.
Even late-night pizza is locking the door, mopping the floor.
Shaky-legged, we walk, sometimes run past old Victorians.
When dawn breaks, a voice pushes back against the silence,
Calling out again and again to a city full of people thirsty
For truth but distracted by the prevalent pastime:
“Drink. Drink. Drink.”
I am thirsty for the current that washes these city streets clean
Every single morning after,
When everyone goes home. there’s a quiet to this place.
“Can you hear?”
© 2014 Jenna Rodrigues
Featured by leaveyouapen; thanks Eric!
Check this chick out. She’s a boss and her poetry will make your heart soar.