Thank you
]]>Thank you
]]>Ugly
Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, love. The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.; To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. "That's one UGLY cat!!"
All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave.
Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If ever picked up, he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.
One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor's huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly's sad life was almost at an end.; Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought. Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear.; Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.; At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.
Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total to those I cared for. Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, beautiful, but for me, I will always try to be Ugly.
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Once there was a boy with a wise father. This young man was eager to be of service and to show through his life the love and the light of the one infinite Creator. He questioned his father concerning all of the choices which presented themselves to him as he looked for the best way to be of service.
“Shall I go to be a soldier to protect my country and to stand for the ideals upon which our nation is founded?“?
“That is a way to serve,“? answered the wise father. The young man thought. This was not a “yes“? nor was it a “no,“? but as intensely as he questioned his father, his father would say no more.
“Shall I then be an athlete who can win the ears and the hearts of many because of my skill?“?
“That would certainly be a way to be of service,“? said the wise father. And he would say no more.
“Shall I learn to play and sing music and share that gift, and as I gain in fame, serve the many who listen to the words of my songs?“? asked the young man of his father. The answer was the same.
The well-intentioned son suggested as many ways to be of service as he could think of. The father was no more in favor of one way than another.
Finally, exasperated, the son said, “Well, then, shall I become a hobo, to walk along the streets and the roads of the country and the city and get my living by asking for money from strangers?“?
“That would be a way to be of service,“? said the unruffled father.
By this time the son had become thoroughly upset. “I shall choose a life of crime,“? he said to his father. “I shall take what I wish, go whither I wish, and experience the freedom of being above the law.“?
“That is a way to be of service,“? came the answer from the wise father.
For many days the young man pondered what he knew to be a secret which he had not discovered and that was how best to be of service. He was capable of doing many things, but could not choose among them.
As the young man’s life progressed onward, it shaped itself. The young man met and wed a young woman for whom he felt passion. Soon there were children and he found what job he could and worked very hard to support his family. The young man became a man in his middle years, still as dedicated as ever to serving, but unable to puzzle out what he should have done. It was a source of anguish to him, for he knew he was not a wise man, only a good man. He was unable to give his sons the dispassionate advice that his father had given him, for he did not understand his father’s cryptic comment. But he questioned and continued questioning.
And as he grew in years, as his physical vehicle began to show the effects of the planet’s turning around the sun time after time, he felt that he had begun to penetrate that which his father was attempting to tell him so many years ago. So he went to his father, who was by then an aged man, and he said to him, “My father, it has been the goal of my life to be of service, and yet of all the things that I thought of, all of which you said would be helpful to others, I did none. Instead, I did that which I did not comprehend or anticipate. And many things have occurred. And I believe now that I begin to understand that which you say.“?
“Very good, my son,“? his father said, “Please tell me so that I may bask in the reflection of my wisdom.“?
The son, never able to feel quite adult around his father, was suddenly bashful, for he was not sure, after all, that he had begun to understand.
“Well, father,“? he faltered, “I think I have found that service is something I cannot see.“?
“Very good, my son,“? said his father. “What else?“?
“Well,“? continued the son, “I believe I have begun to see that I do not see very well.“?
“Very good, my son,“? said the father. “What else?“?
The son mustered up his courage. “Father, I believe that I am of service, and that I cannot help being of service.“?
“Sit down, my son,“? said the delighted father, “for now we can talk together.
The son sat quickly, eager to listen to his beloved father unravel the riddle at last. The father pointed to the springtime flowers nodding in the breeze. “Which one of those flowers, my son, is not beautiful?“?
“Oh, they are all beautiful,“? answered the son.
“And upon what do you base this opinion?“? asked the father.
“The evidence of my eyes and my nose and my touch,“? said the son.
The father pointed to several flowers which had withered early.
“Do you find these beautiful?“? the father asked.
“No,“? replied the son, “they are dead. They should be removed from the bed. I did not see them before.“?
“It is time for you to consider,“? said his father, “whether you are alive or dead. For if you are alive, you are as beautiful and fragrant and lovely to the touch as any other human that dwells upon the planet. You may be a great president and run a country well, you may inspire by writing or by the singing of songs and poetry you may inspire many. You may heal or you may feed your family. Or, indeed, you may do nothing. But if you are alive within yourself, if you question rather than accepting blindly, then you are precisely as beautiful as those who share your condition, your illusion, and your density.“?
At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments.
But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.
After 2 years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house."
The old woman smiled, "Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them."
"For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house."
Each of us has our own unique flaw. But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding.
You've just got to take each person for what they are and look for the good in them.
To all of my crackpot friends, have a great day and remember to smell the flowers!!
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