Though miles come between us,
And distance keeps us apart,
Nothing can ever change
The love inside my heart….
I may not be there with you,
Every minute of the day,
But you’re always here with me,
In at least a thousand ways,
Whether it be a thought,
Or a moment that we’ve shared,
It only takes a second
To get from here to there….
Though I cannot really feel
You here at my side,
It’s always nice to know
I’ve got these memories in my mind
सब कुछ भुला दिया
वफ़ा का केसा सिला दिया
वो वादे, तेरी इरादे
सब को ठुकरा दिया
प्यार का ऐसा सिला दिया
भूल जाना तुमको बस में नही
तुमने हुमको भुला दिया
वफ़ा का ऐसा सिला दिया
तेरी याद पल पल सताए
मैने ऐसा क्या किया
अपना दिल है तुझे दिया
न कोई गीला न कोई शिकायत
मैने कौनसा गुन्हा किया
जो तूने तोफ बेवफ़ाई का दिया
दिल में वो ऐतबार न रहा
तुम्हे हम्मसे प्यार न रहा
ज़िंदगी हुए है मायूस अब
जो तुमने हुमको भुला दिया
तड़प तड़प के इस दिल ने कहा
मेरी मोहब्बत को तू न ठुकरा
चुबती है यह पलखो पे नामी
कैसे तूने सब कुछ भुला दिया
तेरी मोहब्बत थी बेवफा
तेरे इरादो में थी दागा
देखती है क्यो मुझे खड़ी खड़ी
मैने भी सब कुछ भुला दिया !
I know I’ve hurt you to the deepest core
I deserve your ignorance
Yelling and blaming is all I gave you
In my anger I didn’t seem to care
But now you’ve turned you’re back on me
You’ve left me in despair
I need you I need your love around me
You know it was depression and frustration
That made me say all I shouldn’t have
It feels that world has turned its back on me
When you are not around to hold me
Life seems to be deserted
With not even an oasis to dream of
When I receive your staring unfriendly glance
May be I don’t deserve your forgiveness
But is our love and intimacy so fragile
To die out so easily
Remember you used to say
You’ll steal me away from me
When I’m no more mine I’m all yours
Alone to suffer you are leaving me
You carried our relation so far
You’ve always been there one who cared
Now you are all ready to leave me out to die
With these tears in my heart and grief on my eyes
I want you to know its not good to insult my love
Please don’t let me down
If this has to be the end of what we shared
Let me say a few things before you turn away
My love for you will never decay
My feelings have fossiled deep in my heart
If you ever wish to return anyway
You’ll have to dig double deep inside
It wasn’t me who decided to leave
I still sit and rock on my chair
Hoping I’ll be in your arms again.....
HOW TRUE IS YOUR LOVE********************************************************** How True Is Your Love Are your palms sweaty, is your heart racing and is your voice caught within your chest?? You can’t keep your eyes or hands off of her, am I right?? Are you proud, and eager to show her off?? Do you want her because you know she’s there?? Are you with her because it’s what everyone wants?? Are you with her because she kissed you, or held your hand? Do you stay for her confessions of love, because you don’t want to hurt her? Do you belong to her because the sight of her makes your heart skip a beat?? Do you pardon her faults because you care about her? Do you tell her every day she is the only one you think of? Are you willing to give up all of your favorite things for her sake? Does your heart ache and breaks when she’s sad? Do you cry for her pain, even when she’s strong? Do her eyes see your true heart, and touch your soul so deeply it Do you stay because a blinding, incomprehensible mix of pain and Do you accept her faults because it’s a part of who she is? Are you attracted to others, but stay with her faithfully without Would you give her your heart, your life, your death?? Now, if love is painful, and tortures us so, why do we love? Why is it all we long for? This torture, this powerful death of self? It is such an addictive thing that even people who are not having it wish to experience it and share it with others as well. Take care and God bless “The greatest weakness of humans is their hesitancy to tell others how much they love them while they’re still alive.” |
BIHAR DRIVING LICENCE================================================================ DERIVING LICENSE APPLIKASON PHOROM —————————————————————– NOTE: Please do not soot the person at the applikason kounter. He will give you the licen. If you dot know how to fill ,copy from your phriend (dost)applikason. For phurthar instructions, see bottom applikason. 1. Last name: (_) Yadav (_) Sinha (_) Pandey (_) Misra (_) Dont no (Check karet box) 2. phust name: (_) Ramprasad (_) Lakhan (_) Sivprasad (_) Jamnaprasad (_) Dont no (Check karet box) 3. Age: (_) Less than phipty (_) Greater than phipty (_) Dont no (Check karet box) 4. Sex: ____ M _____(F) _____ not sure _____not applicable 5. Chappal Size: ____ Lepht ____ Right 6.Occupason: (_) Politison (_) Doodhwala (_) Pehelwaan (_) House wife (_) Un-employed (Check karet box) 7. Number of children libing in the household: ___ 8. Number that are yourj: ___ 9. Mather name: _______________________ 10. Phather Name: ____________________ (If not no,leabe blank) 11. Ejjucason: 1 2 3 4 (Circle highest kilass attended) 12. Dental rekard: (_) Ellow (_) Berownish-ellow (_) Berown (_) Belack (_) Other -__________ Give egjhakt color (Check karet box) 13.Your thumb imparesson : ____________________________ (If you are copying from another applikason pharom, pleaje do not copy thumb impression also. Pleaje provide your own thumb impression.) PELEAJE DO NOT USE PHINGERS OF YOUR LEGS Use thumb on your lepht hand only. If you dont have le pht hand, use your thumb on right hand. If you do not have right hand, use thumb on lepht hand. WE ARE VARY ISTRICT ABOUT THIS |
SALARY THIS MONTH = 100 KISSESHusband Letter to Wife Dear Sweetheart: I can’t send my salary this month, so I am sending 100 kisses. You are my sweetheart. Your husband His wife replied back after some days to her husband: Dearest sweetheart, Thanks for your 100 kisses, I am sending the expenses details. 1.. The Milk man agreed on 2 kisses for one month’s milk. 2.. The electricity man only agreed after 7 kisses. 3.. Your house owner is coming every day and taking two or three 4.. Supermarket owner did not accept kisses only, so I have given him some other items……….. 5.. Other expenses 40 kisses Please don’t worry for me, I have a remaining balance of 35 kisses and I hope I can complete the month using this balance. Shall I plan same way for next months, Please Advise !!! Your Sweet Heart Ann |
1. Marriage is not a word.
It’s a sentence (a life sentence).
2. Marriage is love. Love is blind. Therefore marriage is an institution for the blind.
3. Marriage is an institution in which a man loses his Bachelor’s Degree and the woman gets her masters.
4. Marriage is a three-ring circus:
engagement ring, wedding ring and suffering.
5. Married life is full of excitement and frustration: In the first year of marriage, the man speaks and the woman listens. In the second year, the woman speaks and the man listens.In the third year, they both speak and the NEIGHBOUR listens.
6. Getting married is very much like going to a restaurant with friends.You order what you want, and when you see what the other person has, you wish you had ordered that instead.
7. There was this man who muttered a few words in the church and found himself married. A year later he muttered something in his sleep and found himself divorced.
8. A happy marriage is a matter of giving and taking; the husband gives and the wife takes.
9. Son: How much does it cost to get married, Dad? Father: I don’t know son, I’m still paying for it.
10. Son: Is it true Dad? I heard that in ancient China, a man doesn’t know his wife until he marries her. Father: That happens everywhere, son, EVERYWHERE!
11. Love is one long sweet dream, and marriage is the alarm clock.
12. They say that when a man holds a woman’s hand before marriage, it is love; after marriage it is self-defense.
13. When a newly married man looks happy, we know why. But when a 10-year married man looks happy, we wonder why.
14. There was this lover who said that he would go through hell for her. They got married, and now he is going through HELL.
16. When a man steals your wife, there is no better revenge than to let him keep her.
17. Eighty percent of married men cheat in America, the rest cheat in Europe.
18. After marriage, husband and wife become two sides of a coin. They just can’t face each other, but they still stay together.
19. Marriage is man and a woman become one. The trouble starts when they try to decide which one.
20. Before marriage, a man yearns for the woman he loves. After the marriage the “Y” becomes silent.
21. I married Miss right; I just didn’t know her first name was Always.
22. It’s not true that married men live longer than single men, it only seems longer.
23. Losing a wife can be hard. In my case, it was almost impossible.
24. A man was complaining to a friend: I HAD IT ALL-MONEY, A BEAUTIFUL HOUSE, THE LOVE OF A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN, THEN POW! IT WAS ALL GONE. WHAT HAPPENED, asked his friend. He says MY WIFE FOUND OUT.
25. WIFE: Let’s go out and have some fun tonight. HUSBAND: OK, but if you get home before I do, leave the hallway lighs on.
26. At a cocktail party, one woman said to another: AREN’T YOU WEARING YOUR RING ON THE WRONG FINGER? The other replied, YES, I, AM. I MARRIED THE WRONG MAN.
27. Man is incomplete until he gets married, then he is finished.
28. It doesn’t matter how often a married man changes his job, he still ends up with the same boss.
29. A man inserted an ad in the paper - WIFE WANTED. The next day he received a hundred of letters and they all said the same thing - YOU CAN HAVE MINE.
30. When a man opens the door of his car for his wife, you can be sure of one thing - either the car is new or the wife is.
Is there a God?
From John Jay Harper, author of the recently published "Tranceformers: Shamans of the 21st Century."
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." (John 1:1, KJV)
Former U.S. Marine and author Edward Arnold asks in 2012: Year of the Apocalypse, "After 2012, will the people of the world be ready to rely … on themselves … be ready to understand that the ‘power of god’ is within one’s own self?" By all indications, we are walking a slippery slope, teetering on the edge of the abyss right now. There are more than enough doom and gloom forecasts. Yet is that because we give our self-will power away to prophets, priests, physicians, and politicians? Of course it is, but why is it that some of us don’t do that? It is because we woke-up in this nightmare called history and remembered that we are co-creators, the self-reflecting mirror-images of God. This self-realization of our self-responsibility for the world we see today is in fact the focus of psychotherapist Paul Levy’s controversial new book The Madness of George W. Bush: A Reflection of Our Collective Psychosis
GOD AT HIS COMPUTER
For the larger truth is what we resist, persist. That if we refuse to look within ourselves individually and collectively to at least find the "lesser of two evils" when seeking solutions to problems, then we won’t see that these decisions are fed back to us as our perceived "reality." Or, in blunt terms, our psychology ultimately becomes our biology. What goes around comes around, too, although most of us "drama queens" create these "Reality-TV" soap operas without so much as a clue that this feedback loop was to be a lesson-learned, a wake-up call to our role in co-creation, not a coincidence. Usually when things go wrong we don’t turn inwards, we lash out at the world around us.
We play the blame game, and project onto "enemies" our own shortcomings in the dysfunctional, lopsided relationships. Overall, honestly, we don’t seek peace, do we yet? We seek "homeland security" at all costs. No doubt this is a dangerous strategy if you are the Commander-in-Chief of military forces employing gunboat diplomacy with nuclear-tipped pens as the entire planet can be destroyed in an outburst of "road less-traveled rage." A collective mushroom cloud temper tantrum and Tilt: Game Over. Is this what awaits our species in era-2012?
It is certainly one scenario, but my own visions of 2012 are more in line with those of John Major Jenkins in Maya Cosmogenesis 2012 and Daniel Pinchbeck in 2012: The Return of Quetzacoatl. That is to say, our future world order reflects an optimistic outcome if we wake up in time and deal with the chaos we have co-created within our environment. The destruction of natural resources via technology is finally coming back full-circle to bite us in the left-brain! My own hopefulness therefore is centered upon what such enlightened "egghead" peers of mine as cellular biologist Bruce H. Lipton reveals in The Biology of Belief, and aerospace software engineer Gregg Braden in The God Code: We are all living cells within the Mind of God. Also, Gary E. Schwartz’s latest insights titled The G.O.D. Experiments: How Science is Discovering God in Everything, Including Us is clearly a reason for celebration. He is the director of the Laboratory for Advances in Consciousness and Health at the University of Arizona, and a Harvard graduate after all.
In the words of distinguished Cambridge-educated bible scholar Godfrey Higgins (1771-1834), "Almost all the latter part of my life has been spent unlearning the nonsense I learned in my youth." Thus, one has to believe that there are more "corrections" to the treatise On the Origins of Species (1859) to follow soon as well. Especially so upon even a cursory review of this masterpiece by Michael Cremo, Human Devolution: A Vedic Alternative to Darwin’s Theory. Not only does this 554-page text reveal the connection to spiritualism by co-founder of the evolution hypothesis, Sir Alfred Russell Wallace, but it also speaks volumes as to how misinformed we all are about our origins. The greatest shock for me was to grasp how wrong it was for science and religion to exclude our direct connection to God as the starting point for creation. I mean we are not fallen creatures, we are heroes that volunteered for a bloody, nasty job!
God has taken us for a ride—not the other way around. We do not evolve; we revolve within a cycle that goes from consciousness to unconsciousness to consciousness. Time is circular in other words, not linear. It is as if we truly believed that the purpose of life is death rather then rebirth into higher realms of existence lifetime-after-lifetime. As a person who attended seminary myself at Brite Divinity School, Texas Christian University, in Ft. Worth, albeit so briefly I had barely unpacked my bags before I quit, I can certainly relate to this truth: We do seem to prefer the darkness over the light. But without hesitation, I can tell you that our history is not our destiny. The operative idea today is we must "unlearn the past," if we want our green-future to unfold more naturally. Let the sunshine in and see a new day dawning within a pristine restored Garden of Eden. Open the Gateway to God within our DNA and behold the vision I see in 2012—and beyond.
Welcome to The Fifth Dimension
"When the Moon is in the Seventh House, and Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace shall guide the planets, and love will steer the stars.
This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius."
 "To Be With God" by Simon Dewey |  |
Indeed, life is but a dream that we make lucid.
That is, "earth" in its current configuration—misaligned with the core of the Milky Way—puts us all under the "spell" of dense energy. Or as ethnobotanist Terence McKenna learned from talking to "magic mushrooms": The apocalypse is "the interiorizing of our body and the exteriorizing of our soul." It is the unification of our physical body with our spiritual body that we desire now. Specifically, a human being living in perfect harmony with the five elements of Nature—air, water, earth, fire, ether—is a light being. These have achieved the goal of alchemy, the union of opposites: "as above, so below, as within, so without." Thus, 2012 is also about creating miracles upon command. It is to manifest the desires of our heart that we seek when all is said and done. As Professor Leonora Leet, Ph.D., St. John’s University in New York, declares in The Secret Doctrine of the Kabbalah: Recovering the Key to Hebraic Sacred Science. "From the fifth dimension on we may see the highly developed soul … capable of synthesizing the atomic constituents of material particles [out of cosmic consciousness]." This then is the Holy Grail, the unification of physics and metaphysics, through the reactivation of our soul powers contained within DNA. Martin Schoenberger implied as much in his magnum opus The I Ching & The Genetic Code: DNA is a 3.1 billion love-letter sequence of instructions that turns the Word of God into human beings!
In short, we are light beings made of language!
Just as Francis Collins, M.D., the director of the US National Human Genome Research Institute highlights in his forthcoming book, The Language of God: "One of the great tragedies of our time is this impression that has been created that science and religion have to be at war." No doubt we will need to revisit the origins of warfare between our scientific as well as spiritual belief systems, if we are to remove the obstacles to peace worldwide now. How did we that profess the Word of God as the way, truth, and life become so bloodthirsty? Fourth century theologian Sallustius declared "to conceal the truth by myths prevents contempt of the foolish, and compels the good to practice philosophy," in On the Myths.
In a nutshell, we forgot how to decipher the "universal bar codes" to mythology.
In summary, the truth is all creation is contained within the Mind-Body of God. There is nothing "outside" to God as God is the center and circumference of the cosmos at once—omnipresent. God is in constant contact with every atom and all life forms via the zero-point field and its DNA "messenger molecules" and this truth then establishes the bedrock for all science of soul wisdom teachings. In other words, to be a Christ means to possess Cosmic Consciousness and thereby be able to access the knowledge of heaven on earth. And as Alan F. Alford of Walsall, England heartily declares: "Ancient sages believed that the future destiny of mankind lay in a return to the Source, i.e. to God and Heaven. The death of the body, they said, did not mark an end but rather a critical mid-point in the human existence. Those who had the secret knowledge could retrace the path to the Heavenly Source and enter the gates to the lost paradise." Now that is the deeper meaning to the Lord’s Prayer: "Thy Kingdom Come, Thy Will Be Done on Earth as it is in Heaven!"
| NO LIQUID WATER
Late last year, NASA released results that indicated a strong possibility of liquid water on Mars. Gullies formed in the steep sides of craters looked very much like liquid water had erupted from underground, evaporated, and left a deposit of minerals behind. The features were bright, veined streaks that appeared in images. Now, though, that’s being rethought. New evidence indicates that the deposits may be from dry flows; basically minor landslides. As the scientists themselves :
 In other words, the slopes are steep enough that even in Mars’ light gravity, solid matter can tumble down. In the original images, some lighter material can be seen upslope of the gullies, and perhaps the streaks came from those deposits. Spectra taken don’t show the kinds of materials expected for evaporational deposits. The gullies may have formed millions of years ago from flooding of water, but that time is long past. Bummer. That was a very cool story, but now it’s looking less like water. And then things get worse! The Vastitas Borealis Formation is a large area on Mars thought to have been an old ocean, or maybe was the result of catastrophic flooding. That looks less likely to be the case now too! New images show large (1-2 meter) boulders in the area, when it was thought to be mostly fine-grained sediment:
Here’s an image of the boulders. Note the scale bar; both images are at the same scale.  The paper goes on to say:
In other words, the rocks indicate that the area was not an ocean or from outflow. Bummer again. The final blow: a region thought to have been an old dried up sea turns out to be ponded lava when it flowed over a channeled region. In other words, the smooth lava fooled the scientists when it was seen in lower-res images, but new data show the reality of the lava flows.  Wow. Bummer3. This is a pretty big setback for those looking for sources of liquid water on Mars (frozen water — ice, duh — is not hard to find, especially at the poles). It would be nice to think that liquid water could be found, but we have to go where the data tell us. Right now, they’re saying that liquid water, even subsurface deposits of frozen water, may be rarer than we thought. |
Did you know..
that when you're perceiving beauty, you are connecting with the energy of life?
And the original beauty is found in the wild.
Down south this weekend I fell in love with the world a little more - the scrawley wirey dried vines and the forest of trees of all sizes and textures... and that milky way, revealed!
I wasn't moved by the flattened farm land or the economical concrete shapes,
beauty is only found in that which possesses life.
If you're struggling to find beauty in our city then look beyond at the clouds, the sunsets and each individual part of nature amongst it all... these hold the secret to life. Let's hope the sky stays with us when every other part looks so threatened by 'progress'.
God! Grand Me Strength!It was a merry afternoon at the hall. Oh, one could see that a toy-car race was being held, and the final round is a few minutes away. There were only four participants left and each of them proudly exhibit their own made toy-car. And so it was in fact that the rule of the game, the toy-car had to be one's own handmade.  Yes, it was true, the toy car looks pretty dull. With simple wood materials and few blinking lamps on its top, the toy car doesn't appear so interesting as compared to the other lavishly decorated toy-cars. Even so, the owner was less proud with his toy car, since it was original of his own creation. Every kid got his car ready on the start line, and at the slightest signal from the jury, they pushed the toy-car as fast as they can. They pushed and pushed, ran and ran along with the car as fast as they could, and at the end, surprisingly, the kid with the least magnificent looking toy car got his toy car touching the finish line first among other players. The champion was then asked by the organizer before receiving his award, "Hey champion kid, i saw you praying before the final round started, you must have prayed deeply to God that you may win this tournament, didn't you?" The champion was silent for a moment, then replied, "No sir, that was not what i prayed, i thought it was not fair to ask for God to help me defeating the other players. I only prayed that God help me not to cry if i lose." After a few moments of silence by the audience, the hall was then filled with applauses from the audience. How often do we pray that our wish may be granted? But do we realize that sometimes our wishes are just the opposite of what the others may pray for? If God exist in the conventional sense, then does God side on one but not the other? For example, if we pray for a win that benefit us, at that same time, one party or more would be disadvantaged. Then would it be appropriate for us to be joyful of it while on the other hand the other person might be suffering and disappointed? There are many things more important than just winning or losing. Wouldn't it be better for us if we pray for us to be accepting of whatever the results may be? Be it a defeat or a win, we can still choose to be happy. |
Sister and Brotherly LoveSource: Real Story, Anonymous  That long thick stick then stuck his body countless times. Dad was so furious that he kept on whipping it on him until dad ran out of breath. Afterwards, he sat on our red bed of bricks and scolded, "You have learnt committing theft in this very house now, what other disgracing deeds would you commit later in the future? You deserved to be hit to death! You shameless thief! That night, mom and me embraced brother in our hugs. In that middle of the night, i suddenly started crying. My brother shut my mouth with his small hand and whispered softly, "Sis, don't cry anymore. It all had passed." I still always hate myself for not having enough courage to step forward confessing my crime. Many years had passed, but that incident still felt to me like yesterday. I would never forget that look on my brother when he protected me. At that time, my little brother was 8 at age, and me 11. When my brother was in his last year of the junior high school, he graduated well to proceed to prefectural senior high school. At that same night, i was accepted to enter a provincial university. That night, my dad sitting on the backyard, taking his tobacco pack, one by one. I heard him grunted, "Our two children had very good results...such good results..." Mom wiped her tears and drew his breath, "What is it use for? How could we afford to support them both at the same time?" Right at that time, my brother walked out towards dad and mom, and said, "Dad, i don't want to continue my school anymore, i have read enough books." Dad swinged his heavy arm and hit my brother straight at the face. "Where did you get such a damn shit weak spirit from? Even if it requires me to beg money at the streets, i shall school you both until the end!" And so he knocked every house in the village to borrow some money. I drew my hand as gently as i could towards my brother's swollen cheek, "A boy must continue his schooling; or else he would never leave this valley of poverty." Me, on the other hand, had decided not to continue to university. Who could expect at the next day, before dawn, my brother had left home with some of his old clothes and few dry nuts. He slipped to my bed and left me a note:"Sis, to enter a university is not easy. I will go find work and send you money." I hold that paper on my bed, and cried endless tears till i almost lost my voice. At that year, my brother aged 17, and i was 20. With all the money that my father had borrowed from the whole village, and the hard earned money that my brother earned from moving bags of cement here and there at a construction site, i finally reached my third year at the university. One day, i was studying at my room, when my roommate entered and told me, "There is a villager waiting for you outside there!" Why would a villager look for me? I walked out and saw my brother from afar, his whole body was dirty covered with cement ashes and dust. I asked him, "Why didn't you tell my roommate that you are my brother?" He replied, smiling, "Look how bad i looked. What would they think of you if they find out that i am your brother? Wouldn't they laugh at you?" I felt so touched and my eyes started to get wet of tears. I wiped off the dust and dirts from my brother's clothings and said, "I don't care what others say! You are my brother no matter what! You are my brother no matter how you look..." From his pocket, he drew out a hair clip shaped of butterfly. He wore it to me, then explained, "I saw all city's girls wearing it. So i think you should also have one." I couldn't hold myself much longer. I pulled him to my hug and cried on him. At that year, he was 20 years old, i was 23. At the very first time i brought home my boyfriend, the broken shattered window was replaced, and everywhere in the house seemed cleaned by then. After my boyfriend went home, i danced like a little girl in front of my mom, "Mom, we don't need to spend so much time like this to clean our house!" But she said, smiling, "It was your brother who went home earlier to clean the whole house. Didn't you see the scar on his hand? He was injured fixing the new window glass..." I went in to my brother's little room. Seeing his skinny thin face, i felt like a thousand needles stroke through me. I put on some healing oil on his injury and bandaged his wound. "Did it hurt?" I asked him. "No, no, its not. You know, when i worked at the construction site, stones would roll and fall to my feet at every time. Even it didn't stop me from working and..." At that middle of the sentence, he stopped. I turned back my face and body away from him, shedding unstoppable tears from my heart. At that time, my brother was 23, i was 26. When i got married, i lived at the city. Many times my husband and i invited my parents to come and live with us, but they never want to. They said, once they leave the village, they don't know what else to do. My brother disagreed as well, saying, "Sis, just take care of your parents-in-law. I will take care of dad and mom here." My husband became the director of his factory. We wanted my brother to get job as the manager at the factory in maintainance section, but my brother refused the offer. He stubbornly started his work as repairman. One day, my brother was on a ladder to fix a cable, when he got an electric shock, and was hospitalized. My husband and i went visiting him. Seeing the white bandages all over his his feet, i complained, "Why did you refused to be a manager? Manager doesn't have to do such dangerous things like this. Look at you now, such a serious injury. Why didn't you listened to us before?" With a serious look on his face, he justified himself, "Think about my brother-in-law, he just became a new director at that time, and i am almost uneducated. If i was hired as manager like that, what kind of bad impact he would have on his reputation?" My husband's eyes was also filled with tears, then i said in my cry, "But you were uneducated was also because of me!" "Why talk about the past?" My brother grabbed my hand. That year, he was 26 and i was 29. My brother was then 30 years old when he married the daughter of a farmer of the village. In his wedding, the mc asked him, "Who do you respect most and you love most?" Without even thinking, he answered, "My sister." He continued telling back of a story that even i could hardly recall. "When i was in primary school, the school was at different village. Every day my sister and i would walk for two hours to get to school and to return home from school. One day, i lost one of my glove. My sister gave one of hers to me. She just wore one and walked that far. When we reached home, her hand shivered so much of the very cold winter that she could not hold her chopsticks properly. Since that day, i swore, for as long as i live, i shall take care of my sister and be good to her." Applauses flooded the hall. Every guest then drew their attention to me. Very difficult words i said out of my mouth, " In my life, the person i am most grateful of is my brother." And in this most happy moment, tears flooded from my eyes like river. |
The Love of the Apple Tree
A long time ago, there was a huge apple tree. A little boy loved to come and play around it everyday. He climbed to the tree top, ate the apples,took a nap under the shadow... He loved the tree and the tree loved to play with him.
Time went by... the little boy had grown up and he no longer played around the tree everyday. One day, the boy came back to the tree and he looked sad. "Come and play with me," the tree asked the boy. "I am no longer a kid, I don't play around trees anymore." The boy replied, "I want toys. I need money to buy them." "Sorry, but I don't have money...but you can pick all my apples and sell them. So, you will have money." The boy was so excited. He grabbed all the apples on the tree and left happily. The boy never came back after he picked the apples. The tree was sad.
One day, the boy returned and the tree was so excited. "Come and play with me" the tree said. "I don't have time to play. I have to work for family. We need a house for shelter. Can you help me?" "Sorry, but I don't have a house. But you can chop off my branches to build your house." So the boy cut all the branches of the tree and left happily. The tree was glad to see him happy but the boy never came back since then. The tree was again lonely and sad.
One hot summer day, the boy returned and the tree was delighted. "Come and play with me!" the tree said. "I am sad and getting old. I want to go sailing to relax myself. Can you give me a boat?" "Use my trunk to build your boat. You can sail far away and be happy." So the boy cut the tree trunk to make a boat. He went sailing and never showed up for a long time.
Finally, the boy returned after he left for so many years. "Sorry, my boy. But I don't have anything for you anymore. No more apples for you..." the tree said. "I don't have teeth to bite" the boy replied. "No more trunk for you to climb on" "I am too old for that now" the boy said. "I really can't give you anything ... the only thing left is my dying roots" the tree said with tears. "I don't need much now, just a place to rest. I am tired after all these years." The boy replied. "Good! Old tree roots is the best place to lean on and rest. Come, Come sit down with me and rest."
The boy sat down and the tree was glad and smiled with tears.......
| Fishhead for the mother
After endless tiredless struggle of the great widow making ends meet raising her little four children, she finally can see them growing into great successful people of the society. It is natural, when you have others you love, to want only the best for them |
I am so aesthetically sensitive that when my man, Dave, shaved off his beard a few weeks ago I freaked out. It revealed all this extra detail of him that I didn't recognise.
The way his mouth curled, the actual full form of his lips, the smiles lines, the chin shape.
I felt like I was with a different person and after much fast-tracked re-getting to know yous I ultimately had to ask him to grow it back.
So when it was decided that a long overdue bet of his was to be actualised last weekend - that being a loss for Dave - and the loss of his half-way-down-the-ribcage-long locks... we were both understandably nervous.
Not only was he going to be bald on the top (oh Samson!) but that the proceedings were to take place in the middle of a party in a hallway at midnight.
And I had to photograph it....
Dave and I prepared for the worst by arranging to meet up again in three years if it didn't work out for me. (It really was long hair).
So I watched him go nude-headed via my camera lens. As various strange clipper-wielding women fussed around his hair I started tearing my hair out as I watched them tear his hair out. I was giving myself an anxiety attack over doubt that underneath all that hair would still be the man I recognised, and loved.
I just couldn't handle the intensity of it so I decided to leave the room.
And when I returned I couldn't find Dave but it didn't matter because I met this really hot guy moments later who strangely knows a lot about me already!
Dave - who, while now feeling light-headed, needs a new job. He's previously been a business manager, and a motorcycle racer, but he head-butted a wall. He most recently worked on the federal election campaign, doing everything from writing to IT support to event planning to all round PA. He is a good bi-atch. You can borrow him...
| Darren Waterston and Tyrus Miller :The Flowering (The Fourfold Sense) at Lewis and Clark
I was surprised to learn that Darren Waterston and Tyrus Miller were working on a series of prints, loosely based, on the experiences of Saint Francis because it is a difficult subject matter. Not only is there a saint francis who preaches to the birds but there is also the Saint Francis of the stigmata who also cleans the wounds of the poor with his mouth to overcome his own revulsion. This is a Saint that went looking for the divine in the dark places of the human body, soul, and psyche. It is an exhibition of thirteen prints by Darren Waterston accompanied by original broadsides by Tyrus Miller inspired by the life of Francis of Assisi. The prints were created in collaboration with Gallery 16 in San Francisco and is on view until October 21, 2007. A larger exhibition of paintings by Waterston called Constellations is on view as well but The Flowering (The Fourfold Sense) was of particular interest.
Each of us already knows what our bodies look like. There are different proportions, but more or less it's just several limbs, a layer of skin covering a skeleton of bones with various internal organs. That is our body, but is it what we are? Perhaps more than any other, Saint Francis found the divine through the body. He did not find it by looking at the ideal beauty of the ancient Greeks but in the wounds of the lepers and the homeless that surrounded his home in Assisi. He embraced things that we would normally turn away from like the bleeding sores of those who are sick. He resisted the temptation to run away, transcended his natural feelings of self preservation, and cultivated compassion to discover the divine through the path of caring for those around us.
The broadsides and the prints reinforce one another and perhaps, provide a subtle critique of the strength and weakness of each medium. One works with language of images and the other with words. Within an image, because Waterston prints are not explicitly scenes from the life of St. Francis, we are allowed to make our own story. In Miller's text, he provides the story, but we are allowed to imagine what the story looked like. Each demonstrates the limitations of the other and we are constantly navigating between two realms of thought. In this way, I think that the prints and the broadsides work well together and they prevent one or the other from becoming heavy handed.
Miller's essay in the catalog begins with the best quote by Thomas Celano: "Beware of singularity: it is nothing but a beautiful abyss." It provides the perfect introduction to Waterston's ability to combine multiple layers of meaning of into a single image. Most of the prints usually include one or more references to the stigmata, sometimes to his eyes, and occasionally a skull or full skeleton. My favorite prints are Shadow, which looks like a large swollen eye which can read as relating to St. Francis's difficulties with his eyes and his blindness in later life. The print is saturated with a red and orange circle that has the lines radiating from the center of the circle. The lines makes me think of the ridges that one sees when looking at the iris close up. The radiating lines also have a different perhaps subtler meaning. In the prints, any time person interacts with the divine such as Mount Verna, Leper's Conversion, and Receiving the lines function as physical manifestation of the will of the divine. In each case, except for Shadow, the lines radiate from a center beyond the border of the prints. In Shadow, the lines radiate from the center of the eye, Saint Francis's eye, but it also allows for the potential of the divine to radiate from within each of us. Whether this was intentional or not, only Waterston knows, but it is an interesting way to look at the sequence and images of the prints.
The prints that are less successful are those that are too literal. Weeping is the first one that comes to mind. The crying, isolated skeleton before a Ken Noland/ Ross Bleckner orb of light doesn't take me anywhere and it seems a little heavy handed compared to the light, nonlinear feel of the rest of the prints. The prints are better when they veer away from being illustrations of a particular feeling or experience. A good example of this would be Dome. In Dome, we are confronted a skull floating in an undifferentiated space filled with spheres of light and color. Is the dome the top of the head or the dome of the celestial sky? Waterston never makes it explicitly clear so we are left to draw our own conclusions. He is generous because he lets us finish the story.
A good example of something that we have to translate through our own experience would be Umbria. Is it a swollen sun? A open wound? A stigmata? We never know and it is up to the viewer to make sense of their own experience but we have the experience directly. It would have been great if there had been a print that transcended the body and human experience to reveal the point of Saint Francis's existence. It might be Heaven, God, or enlightenment but whatever it is, it would have been great for Waterston to show us the other side, the goal that St. Francis was striving for by helping the poor and the sick.
I felt like Tyrus Miller walks onto some unstable ground in the catalog when he quotes W.J.T. Mitchell as pictures being intrinsically "wanting." The line of thought that the pictures have both a face, a will and at times, manifesting a stigmata. The implication would be that the pictures have a life beyond our experience of them, that the pictures could exist outside of our experience. If Miller was making that as a serious proposition, I think it misrepresents Waterston's prints and the life of Saint Francis. Yes, by viewing the prints we complete the prints but the prints do not need us to do so, and they are certainly not lacking before that moment. I think what Miller is saying is that the prints have qualities of the body. I wish he would have just left it at that.
Perhaps it is no coincidence that Bodies World 3 is on exhibition at OMSI during the same time Waterston prints are up at Lewis and Clark. If we had Hirst's Hymn at the museum we could have made the trifecta. Portland must have a fascination with the inside of our bodies right now. As you can imagine, Waterston prints are an intense look at qualities and experiences that made the man St. Francis. When they are paired with the texts by Miller, they reveal two parallel trains of thought that occasionally collide in the people that walk through the show following in the footsteps of Saint Francis. |
| Wherever, throughout the earth, there is such a thing as a formal harvest, there also appears an inclination to mark it with a festive celebration. The wonder, the gratitude, the piety felt towards the great Author of nature, when it is brought before us that, once more, as it has ever been, the ripening of a few varieties of grass has furnished food for earth's teeming millions, insure that there should every where be some sort of feast of ingathering. In England, this festival passes generally under the endeared name of Harvest-Home. In Scotland, where that term is unknown, the festival is hailed under the name of the Kirn In the north of England, its ordinary designation is the Mell-Supper. And there are perhaps other local names. But every where there is a thankful joy, a feeling which pervades all ranks and conditions of the rural people, and for once in the year brings all upon a level. The servant sympathises with the success of his master in the great labours of the year. The employer looks kindly down upon his toiling servants, and feels it but due to them that they should have a banquet furnished out of the abundance which God has given him—one in which he and his family should join them, all conventional distinctions sinking under the overpowering gush of natural, and, it may be added, religious feeling, which so well befits the time. Most of our old harvest-customs were connected with the ingathering of the crops, but some of their began with the commencement of harvest-work. Thus, in the southern counties, it was customary for the labourers to elect, from among themselves, a leader, whom they denominated their 'lord.' To him all the rest were required to give precedence, and to leave all transactions respecting their work. He made the terms with the farmers for mowing, for reaping, and for all the rest of the harvest-work; he took the lead with the scythe, with the sickle, and on the 'carrying days;' he was to be the first to eat, and the first to drink, at all their refreshments; his mandate was to be law to all the rest, who were bound to address him as 'My Lord,' and to shew him all due honour and respect. Disobedience in any of these particulars was punished by imposing fines according to a scale previously agreed on by 'the lord' and all his vassals. In some instances, if any of his men swore or told a lie in his presence, a fine was inflicted. In Buckinghamshire and other counties, 'a lady' was elected as well as 'a lord,' which often added much merriment to the harvest-season. For, while the lady was to receive all honours due to the lord from the rest of the labourers, he (for the lady was one of the workmen) was required to pass it on to the lord. For instance, at drinking-time, the vassals were to give the horn first to the lady, who passed it to the lord, and when he had drunk, she drank next, and then the others indiscriminately. Every departure from this rule incurred a fine. The blunders which led to fines, of course, were frequent, and produced great merriment.
In the old simple days of England, before the natural feelings of the people had been checked and chilled off by Puritanism in the first place, and what may be called gross Commercialism in the second, the harvest-home was such a scene as Horace's friends might have expected to see at his Sabine farm, or Theocritus described in his Idylls. Perhaps it really was the very same scene which was presented in ancient times. The grain last cut was brought home in its wagon—called the Hock Cart—surmounted by a figure formed of a sheaf with gay dressings—a presumable representation of the goddess Ceres—while a pipe and tabor went merrily sounding in front, and the reapers tripped around in a hand-in-hand ring, singing appropriate songs, or simply by shouts and cries giving vent to the excitement of the day.
So they sang or shouted. In Lincolnshire and other districts, hand-bells were carried by those riding on the last load, and the following rhymes were sung:
Troops of village children, who had contributed in various ways to the great labour, joined the throng, solaced with plum-cake in requital of their little services. Sometimes, the image on the cart, instead of being a mere dressed-up bundle of grain, was a pretty girl of the reaping-band, crowned with flowers, and hailed as the Maiden. Of this we have a description in a ballad of Bloomfield's:
In some provinces—we may instance Buckinghamshire—it was a favourite practical joke to lay an ambuscade at some place where a high bank or a tree gave opportunity, and drench the hock-cart party with water. Great was the merriment, when this was cleverly and effectively done, the riders laughing, while they shook themselves, as merrily as the rest. Under all the rustic jocosities of the occasion, there seemed a basis of pagan custom; but it was such as not to exclude a Christian sympathy. Indeed, the harvest-home of Old England was obviously and beyond question a piece of natural religion, an ebullition of jocund gratitude to the divine source of all earthly blessings. Herrick describes the harvest-home of his epoch (the earlier half of the seventeenth century) with his usual felicity of ex-pression.
In the north, there seem to have been some differences in the observance. It was common there for the reapers, on the last day of their business, to have a contention for superiority in quickness of dispatch, groups of three or four taking each a ridge, and striving which should soonest get to its termination. In Scotland, this was called a kemping, which simply means a striving. In the north of England, it was a melt, which, I suspect, means the same thing (from Fr. mêlée). As the reapers went on during the last day, they took care to leave a good handful of the grain uncut, but laid down fiat, and covered over; and, when the field was done, the ' bonniest lass' was allowed to cut this final handful, which was presently dressed up with various sewings, tyings, and trimmings, like a doll, and hailed as a Corn Baby. It was brought home in triumph, with music of fiddles and bagpipes, was set up conspicuously that night at supper, and was usually preserved in the farmer's parlour for the remainder of the year. The bonny lass who cut this handful of grain, was deemed the Har'st Queen. In Hertfordshire, and probably other districts of England, there was the same custom of reserving a final handful; but it was tied up and erected, under the name of a Mare, and the reapers then, one after another, threw their sickles at it, to cut it down. The successful individual called out: 'I have her!' 'What have you?' cried the rest. 'A mare, a mare, a mare!' he replied. 'What will you do with her P' was then asked. 'We'll send her to John Snooks,' or whatever other name, referring to some neighbouring farmer who had not yet got all his grain cut down. This piece of rustic pleasantry was called Crying the Mare. It is very curious to learn, that there used to be a similar practice in so remote a district as the Isle of Skye. A farmer having there got his harvest completed, the last cut handful was sent, under the name of Goabbir Bhacagh (the Cripple Goat), to the next farmer who was still at work upon his crops, it being of course necessary for the bearer to take some care that, on delivery, he should be able instantly to take to his heels, and escape the punishment otherwise sure to befall him. The custom of Crying the Mare is more particularly described by the Rev. C. H. Hartshorne, in his Salopia Antigua (p. 498). 'When a farmer has ended his reaping, and the wooden bottle is passing merrily round, the reapers form themselves into two bands, and commence the following dialogue in loud shouts, or rather in a kind of chant at the utmost pitch of their voice. First band: I have her, I have her, I have her! (Every sentence is repeated three times.) Second: What hast thee? What bast thee? What bast thee? First: A mare, a mare, a mare! Second: Whose is her? Whose is her? Whose is her? First: A. B.'s (naming their master, whose corn is all cut. Second: Where shall we send her? &c. First: To C. D. (naming some neighbour whose corn is still standing). And the whole concludes with a joyous shout of both bands united. In the south-eastern part of Shropshire, the ceremony is performed with a slight variation. The last few stalks of the wheat are left standing; all the reapers throw their sickles, and he who cuts it off, cries: " I have her, I have her, I have her I" on which the rustic mirth begins; and it is practised in a manner very similar in Devonshire. The latest farmer in the neighbourhood, whose reapers therefore cannot send her to any other person, is said to keep her all the winter. This rural ceremony, which is fast wearing away, evidently refers to the time when, our county lying all open in common fields, and the corn consequently exposed to the depredations of the wild mares, the season at which it was secured from their ravages was a time of rejoicing, and of exulting over a tardier neighbour.' Mr Bray describes the same custom as practised in Devonshire, and the chief peculiarity in that instance is, that the last handful of the standing grain is called the Nack. On this being cut, the reapers assemble round it, calling at the top of their voices, 'Arnack, arnack, arnack! we have'n, we have'n, we have'n,' and the firkin is then handed round; after which the party goes home dancing and shouting. Mr. Bray considers it a relic of Druidism, but, as it appears to us, without any good reason. He also indulges in some needlessly profound speculations regarding the meaning of the words used. 'Arnack' appears to us as simply ' Our nag,' an idea very nearly corresponding to 'the Mare;' and 'we have'n' seems to be merely 'we have him.' In the evening of harvest-home, the supper takes place in the barn, or some other suitable place, the master and mistress generally presiding. This feast is always composed of substantial viands, with an abundance of good ale, and human nature insures that it should be a scene of intense enjoyment. Some one, with better voice than his neighbours, leads off a song of thanks to the host and hostess, in something like the following strain:
One of the rustic assemblage, being chosen to act as 'lord,' goes out, puts on a sort of disguise, and comes in again, crying in a prolonged note, Lar-gess! He and some companions then go about with a plate among the company, and collect a little money with a view to further regalements at the village ale-house. With these, protracted usually to a late hour, the harvest-feast ends. In Scotland, under the name of the Kirn or Kirn Supper (supposed to be from the churn of cream usually presented on the occasion), harvest-home ends in like manner. The description of the feast given by Grahame, in his British Georgics, includes all the characteristic features:
Such was formerly the method of conducting the harvest-feast; and in some instances it is still conducted much in the same manner, but there is a growing tendency in the present day, to abolish this method and substitute in its place a general harvest-festival for the whole parish, to which all the farmers are expected to contribute, and which their labourers may freely attend. This festival is usually commenced with a special service in the church, followed by a dinner in a tent, or in some building sufficiently large, and continued with rural sports; and sometimes including a tea-drinking for the women. But this parochial gathering is destitute of one important element in the harvest-supper. It is of too general a character. It provides no particular means for attaching the labourers to their respective masters. If a labourer have any unpleasant feeling towards his master, or is conscious of neglecting his duty, or that his conduct has been offensive towards his master, he will feel ashamed of going to his house to partake of his hospitality, but he will attend without scruple a general feast provided by many contributors, because he will feel under no special obligation to his own master. But if the feast be solely provided by his master, if he receive an invitation from him, if he finds himself welcomed to his house, sits with him at his table, is encouraged to enjoy himself, is allowed to converse freely with him, and treated by him with kindness and cordiality, his prejudices and asperities will be dispelled, and mutual good-will and attachment established. The hospitality of the old-fashioned harvest-supper, and other similar agricultural feasts, was a bond of union between the farmer and his work-people of inestimable value. The only objection alleged against such a feast, is that it often leads to intemperance. So would the harvest-festival, were not regulations adopted to prevent it. If similar regulations were applied to the farmer's harvest-feast, the objection would be removed. Let the farmer invite the clergyman of his parish, and other sober-minded friends, and with their assistance to carry out good regulations, temperance will easily be preserved. The modern harvest-festival, as a parochial thanksgiving for the bounties of Providence, is an excellent institution, in addition to the old harvest-feast, but it should not be considered as a substitute for it. |
Mother Nature
I once read a book about the secret of things,
only to start wondering about truth & meanings.
It was a vision of life that came from within,
and it filled me with destiny about the world we live in.
It was written in symbols, in numbers and forms,
the nature of perfection, from the seed to reborn.
All the aspects of life you must discover in self,
and rise to accomplish all you hope to yourself.
But the path to the answer is traveled within,
revealed to the mind by a study of Yin...
The Yang is the outer and a view of contradictions,
you're fighting & struggling all of life's oppositions.
Yin power is quiet & peaceful and still,
and your mind is in focus to understand ...and it will.
As the road curves in and your purpose is changed,
...it's to give you the viewpoints from both youth & old age.
Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhi
("Mother Teresa")
Mother Teresa was born in Skopje in what is now The Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia on August 27, 1910. Her original name was Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu. Her father, who was of Albanian descent, ran a small farm.
At the age of twelve, while attending a Roman Catholic elementary school, she records that she knew she had a vocation to help the poor. She decided to train for missionary work, and a few years later made India her choice.
At the age of eighteen she left the parental home in Skopje and joined the Sisters of Loreto, an Irish community of nuns with a mission in Calcutta. After a few months' training in Dublin she was sent to India, where in 1928 she took her initial vows as a nun.
From 1929 to 1948 Mother Teresa taught at St. Mary's High School in Calcutta, but the suffering and poverty she glimpsed outside the convent walls made such a deep impression on her that in 1946 she received permission from her superiors to leave the convent school and devote herself to working among the poor in the slums of Calcutta.
Although she had no funds, she started an open-air school for homeless children. Soon she was joined by voluntary helpers, and financial support was also forthcoming from various church organisations, as well as from the municipal authorities. This made it possible for her to extend the scope of her work, and on October 7, 1950, she received permission to start her own order "The Missionaries of Charity", whose primary task was to love and care for those persons nobody was prepared to look after.
In 1979 she received the Nobel Peace Prize, "for work undertaken in the struggle to overcome poverty and distress, which also constitute a threat to peace." After being told of the honor, she replied, "I am unworthy." By this time her order had grown to 1,800 nuns and 120,000 lay workers, who operated nearly 200 centers and homes. She intervened between the warring factions in Beirut in 1982, and arranged a cease fire to rescue nearly 40 mentally ill children. Being prevented from visiting Albania by the communist regime, she visited several times during recent years.
In 1988, she went to visit her mother's and sister's graves in Shkodra. Her last visit was in 1993, when on April 25th, she attended the inauguration ceremony of the Great Cathedral in Shkodra, alongside Pope John-Paul II. She visited Kosova in 1980.
Eight of her charity houses operate in Albania and two in Kosova. The largest charity organization in Kosova carries her name. She was hospitalized several times in 1996 with heart, lung, kidney and other problems, and suffered ill health in earlier years. She indicated her intention to resign as head of her order in 1990, due to failing health. Because of disagreements on her successor, she remained as head of the order until March, 1996, when she stepped down and was replaced by Sister Nermala.
She died on September 5th, 1997, in Calcutta, India, after suffering cardiac arrest. She was 87. Her order currently has 4,000 nuns and novices, 400 priests and brothers and hundreds of thousands of volunteers, working at over 450 sites around the world.
Teresa was recognized all over the world and she received many awards which can be listed in the following manner :
1962: The Magsaysay Award for International Understanding along with a cheque of 50,000 rupees. She used this award money to buy the Children's Home in Agra.
In 1962, she also received India's second highest award the 'Padma Shri', from the President of India, Dr. Rajendra Prasad.
In January 1971, Pope Paul VI presented her with a cheque worth £10,000 given by the Vatican as the first Pope John XXIII Peace Prize. She received the cheque and donated it for the construction of a leper colony in Madhya Pradesh on land donated by the Indian Government.
On October 13, of the same year Joseph P. Kennedy Jr. Foundation presented her with an award in Washington. The award was made up of a heavy glass vase engraved with a figure of St. Raphael the Archangel and inscribed with the increasingly familiar words : "To Mother Teresa, whose struggles have shaped something beautiful for God."
In November, 1972, she was given the Nehru Award for international understanding by the Indian government. The Award consisted of a citation describing her as "one of the most impressive manifestations of charity throughout the world". It stated further that she had inspired a large number of devoted people all over the world to work with her in the service of the destitute, the uncared and helpless people of the society.
In 1973, Mother Teresa was awarded the Templeton Prize for Progress in Religion, which made her the first recipient of this Prize. She was selected out of a total of two thousand nominations by a panel of judges representing the major religious traditions of the world, including Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism and Hinduism.
In 1974, the Prime Minister of the Yemen Arab Republic presented her with a 'Sword of Honor'.
In March, 1975, the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization struck its Ceres Medals in recognition of Mother's "exemplary love and concern for the hungry and the poorest of the poor". The Medal showed Mother Teresa representing the Roman Goddess of Agriculture.
In June, 1975, Mother Teresa was awarded the Voice of America's International Women's Year Pin for her work for the poor in India.
On October 23, 1975, she became a recipient of one of the first Albert Schweitzer International Prizes, awarded at the University of North Carolina, Washington.
On November 2, 1975, she was awarded an honorary Doctor of Laws degree, at a special ceremony at St. Francis Xavier University in Antigonish, Nova Scotia.
In the same year (International Women's Year), Shirley Williams, the then Secretary of State for Consumer Protection in the British government, and Maurice Strong, executive director of The United Nations Environment Program, Senator Edward Kennedy and Robert McNamara, head of the World Bank, added their support to the nomination of Mother Teresa for the Nobel Peace Prize.
On March 3, 1976, Mrs. Indira Gandhi, as chancellor of the Vishwa Bharti University, conferred on Mother Teresa the University's highest honor, 'The Deshikottama' (Doctor of Literature) scarf in recognition of her significant contribution to the cause of human suffering. Mrs. Gandhi commented on her, "She is tiny to look at, but there is nothing small about her."
In June, 1977, She was awarded an honorary Doctorate of Divinity from the University of Cambridge.
On October 17, 1979, she was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize with a cheque for $130,000.
On December 8, 1979, Mother Teresa landed at Oslo's international airport accompanied by Sister Agnes and Sister Gertrude. She had politely refused the heavy coats and fur-lined boots to protect against a temperature of minus ten degrees Celsius offered her by the Nobel committee. She requested cancellation of the celebratory banquet and said that the money should be used for those who were really in need of a meal. Thus, the $4,000 that was to be spent for the banquet and further $50,000 raised by Norwegian young people were added to her prize money. More than one thousand people welcomed her. She was given a reception the moment she landed at Oslo, by the Indian Ambassador in Norway. She was grateful for the prize as it would provide housing for the homeless and for leper families. Moreover, she was specially grateful for the "gift of recognition of the poorest of the poor of the world".
On December 10, 1979, in the presence of King Olaf V of Norway, Crown Prince Harald, Crown Princess Sonja, and many other dignitaries, Mother Teresa accepted the gold medal and the money, as she had accepted all other honors, 'unworthily' but "gratefully in the name of poor, the hungry, the sick and the lonely".
She was further honored by the Indian Government in 1980, as she became one of the only three Indian nationals ever to receive a Nobel Prize. She was also one of the only three Indians ever to have been honored with an official reception within the ramparts of Delhi's historic Red Fort. The other two recipients were Jawarlahal Nehru and his daughter Indira Gandhi. In the Rashtrapati Bhavan, the Presidential Palace in New Delhi, the President of India, Neelam Sanjiva Reddy, gave her India's highest civilian award, the 'Bharat Ratna' or 'Jewel of India'.
In the same year she was awarded the gold medal of the official Soviet Peace Committee.
On November 24, 1983, Mother Teresa was presented with the insignia of the Honorary Order of Merit, by Queen Elizabeth II at the Presidential Palace in Delhi.
On June 20, 1985, at the White House in Washington, the then U.S. President, Ronald Reagan presented her with the United States Presidential Medal of Freedom, calling her a 'heroine of our times'. He declared that "the goodness in some hearts transcends all borders and all narrow nationalistic considerations".
On October 27 of the same year, she was honored at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, when Cardinal O'Boyle, Chairman of the Shrine's Committee, presented her with a monetary gift on behalf of the thousand of visitors to the Shrine.
On July, 1987, the film 'Mother Teresa' made by two American sisters, Ann and Jeanette Petric, was awarded the Soviet Peace Committee Prize during the 15th International Film Festival held in Moscow.
On March 28, Yasser Arafat, President of the Palestine Liberation organization, presented her with a cheque of US $50,000. He invited her to the Holy Land and asked her to open 'Death with Dignity' homes in Bethlehem and Jerusalem.
In August, 1992, in New York, she received the Knights of St. Columbanus' Gaudium et Spes (Hope and Joy) Award from Cardinal John O' Connor.
On August, 1992, she was awarded with an honorary fellowship of the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland.
On December, 1992, in Kolkata, she received the United Nations cultural agency's peace education award to "crown a life consecrated to the service of the poor, to the promotion of peace and to combating injustice". She was presented a cheque of £ 50,000 by the UNESCO director general. The money was used by her to set up a home for the handicapped near Kolkata.
In the same year, the communist President of Albania, Mr. Ramiz Alia, awarded Albanian citizenship to Mother Teresa, who had once been forced to take a sad decision of not visiting her dying mother in her homeland as she wanted to serve the poor of the world. Mr. Alia also created a 'Mother Teresa Prize' to be awarded to those who distinguished themselves in the field of humanitarian and charitable work.
In January, 1993, she received the papal award 'Pro Ecclesia et Pontifice'.
In October, 1994, she received the 'U Thant Peace Award' for her 'Tireless Service to humanity'.
On May 16, 1997, she was awarded a United States Congressional gold medal in recognition of her "outstanding and enduring contributions to humanitarian and charitable activities.
