Of course it's you, it's always you!

Chris Daughtry —- What About Now lyrics

Shadows fill an empty heart
As love is fading,
From all the things that we are
But are not saying.
Can we see beyond the stars
And make it to the dawn?

Change the colors of the sky.
And open up to
The ways you made me feel alive,
The ways I loved you.
For all the things that never died,
To make it through the night,
Love will find you.

What about now?
What about today?
What if you’re making me all that I was meant to be?
What if our love never went away?
What if it’s lost behind words we could never find?
Baby, before it’s too late,
What about now?

The sun is breaking in your eyes
To start a new day.
This broken heart can still survive
With a touch of your grace.
Shadows fade into the light.
I am by your side,
Where love will find you.

What about now?
What about today?
What if you’re making me all that I was meant to be?
What if our love had never went away?
What if it’s lost behind words we could never find?
Baby, before it’s too late,
What about now?

Now that we’re here,
Now that we’ve come this far,
Just hold on.
There is nothing to fear,
For I am right beside you.
For all my life,
I am yours.

What about now?
What about today?
What if you’re making me all that I was meant to be?
What if our love had never went away?
What if it’s lost behind words we could never find?

What about now?
What about today?
What if you’re making me all that I was meant to be?
What if our love had never went away?
What if it’s lost behind words we could never find?
Baby, before it’s too late,
Baby, before it’s too late,
Baby, before it’s too late,
What about now?

The Story Of Latiff

Latiff was the poorest beggar of the village. Every night he slept in the hall of a different house, in front of the town square.

Every day he had a short rest under a different tree, with a widespread hand and a far away look in his thoughts. Every evening he would eat the alms or the crusts that some charitable person brought over to him.

Without embargo, in spite of his aspect and the way his days happened, Latiff was considered by all to be the wisest man of town, perhaps not so much because of his intelligence, but by what he had lived.

One sunny morning the king appeared in the square, surrounded by his guards, walking between the fruits and trinkets looking for nothing.

Laughing at the merchants and at the buyers, the king and his entourage almost stumbled over Latiff, who was dozing in the shade of a holm oak. Someone told the king that he was in front of the poorest of his subdits, but also in front of one of the most respected men because of his knowledge.

The king, entertained, approached the beggar and said to him, “If you answer my question, I will give you this golden coin.”

Latiff looked at it, almost contemptuously, and said to him, “You can keep your coin, what will I do with it anyway? What is your question?”

The king felt defied by the response and instead of a banal question, he asked a question that was bothering him for days and that he could not solve; a problem of goods and resources that analysts had not solved for him.

Latiff’s response was wise and creative. The king was surprised; he left the coin at the feet of the beggar and continued on his way to the market, pondering the events.

The next day he came back directly to where Latiff was resting; this time under an olive grove. Again the king posed a question and again Latiff answered it rapidly and wisely. The king was surprised again at so much intelligence. In a humble act, he took off his sandals and sat in front of Latiff.

“Latiff, I need you”, the king said to him. “I am overwhelmed by the decisions that as king I must make. I do not want to harm my people and neither do I want to be an evil king. I ask you to come to the palace to be my adviser. I promise you that you should not fear at all, that you will be respected and that you will be able to leave whenever you want… Please.”

Whether it was out of compassion, for service or for surprise, Latiff, after thinking a few minutes, accepted the proposal of the king.

That same evening Latiff came into the palace, where immediately a luxurious room was assigned to him. The room was close to the king’s room and had a tub filled with essences and lukewarm water waiting for him.

During the following weeks the consultations with the king became habitual. Every day, in the morning, and in the evening, the monarch ordered his new adviser to consult him on the problems of the kingdom, on his own life or on his spiritual doubts.

Latiff always answered with clarity and precision and became the favourite speaker of the king. Three months after his arrival, there wasn’t any decision made by the monarch without consulting his valued adviser first.

Obviously this unleashed the jealousy of all the other advisers. They saw in the beggar a threat against their own influences.

One day all of the advisers asked for a private hearing with the king. Very circumspect and with gravity they said to him, “Your friend Latif, as you call him, is conspiring to demolish you.”

The king said, “I cannot believe it.”

“You can confirm it with your own eyes”, they said. “Every evening, at about five o’clock, Latiff slinks away from the palace up to the south wing and he enters a dark room. He meets with someone undercover, we do not know with whom. We have asked him where he was going all these evenings. He gave us evasive answers. His attitude alerted us to his conspiracy.”

The king felt defrauded and hurt. He had to confirm these versions.

That evening, at five o’clock, he was waiting for Latiff under the stairs. He saw Latiff come to the door and look all around, with the key hanging from his neck. He opened the wooden door and slinked secretly into the room.

“Did you see him?” The other advisers shouted. “You saw him?”

Followed by his personal guard, the monarch struck the door.

“Who is it?” Latiff asked from the inside.

“I am the King” he said, “Open the door to me.”

Latiff opened the door. There was nobody inside, except Latiff. No other doors or windows, no secret doors or any furniture where someone could hide.

Inside the room, there was only a worn out wooden plate; in a corner, a walking stick and in the center of the room a shabby tunic hanging by a hook in the roof.

“Are you conspiring against me Latiff?” the King asked.

“How could I, your Majesty?” Latiff answered. “No way. Why would I do that? Only six months ago, when I first came here, the only thing that I had was this tunic, this plate and this walking stick. Now I feel so comfortable in the clothes that I wear, I feel so comfortable with the bed that I sleep in, I am so flattered by the respect that you give me and so fascinated by the power you allow me… to be close you … that I come here every day to touch this old tunic to make sure that I do Remember…

WHO I AM AND WHERE I CAME FROM.

True:

We must never forget who we are and where we come from; life turns and we can always return to the same place.

—- Written by Jorge Bucay —- Argentinean Writer
—- Translated by Gustavo Velez —- Columbia

The Bus To Nowhere

As I was sitting on a bench at the bus station, trying to figure out where I was going to go, I overheard a man ask the clerk for a ticket to nowhere.

Seeming a little confused, as the man walked by I decided to stop him and I asked, “Sir, I was not being nosey but did I hear you ask that lady for a ticket to nowhere?”

The man turned to me and said, “Yes, that is where this ticket shall take me, yet I have second thoughts of going.”

I then asked the man, “Why are you having second thoughts of going?”

He replied, “Here I am now, in a place where everything around me is what I am used to, know of many people, have many friends, you know all the things that make us comfortable in life. Once I get on this bus, all of that will be gone. I do not know if I will like were I end up, nor do I know if it shall be better then here or worse.”

I thanked the man for his response and shook his hand.

As I approached the wicket, I began questioning if this was the ticket I would purchase. Standing in front of the lady staring at the departure board, I felt a tap upon my shoulder. When I turned around I saw the gentlemen I was speaking to moments before.

He said to me, “I have no idea where you are planning to go, but if it is where I was planning to go, you can have this ticket.

So I asked the man, “Why have you changed your mind?”

He replied, “I cannot handle not knowing where I may end up or how far I will go, so here is where I will stay despite all that is wrong with this place. So, if you would like this ticket, it is yours.”

The man handed me the ticket and turned away before I could thank him.

Sitting waiting for this bus, I begin to think of all this man had said. I then began to question if I was ready to get on this bus myself. What will I do? What will be there? How bad will it be? How good will it be?

Before I knew it a man came over the loud speaker and said, “Now boarding the bus to nowhere. All passengers please go to gate #1.”

I got up from my seat and began the walk down the corridor to gate #1. Halfway down I looked over my shoulder to see how many where coming on this bus. I saw no one.

I handed the driver my ticket and asked, “Sir, how many are on the bus?”

He replied, “It is only you today, no others.”

So I asked,” Do many take this bus?”

He replied, “Many have bought tickets, but most seem to never show. And if they do, this is as far as they get.”

A little startled, I asked, “Why do you think that is?”

He replied, “Son, I have been driving this bus for many years, never have I seen two days the same, driven millions of miles, only to have seen nothing. My guess is, many of us are lost and the only place its seems we must go is somewhere. So people come buy a ticket to nowhere, thinking, hoping it will lead them to somewhere.

Those who have gotten on I have never seen again, yet those who haven’t have been back to this very spot, at this very gate, time and time again. That being said, this bus is leaving. Shall I rip this ticket? Will you be joining me?”

I hand the man my bag and get on the bus headed to ………somewhere!

The Blind Boy

A blind boy sat on the steps of a building with a hat by his feet. He held up a sign which said: “I am blind, please help.” There were only a few coins in the hat.

A man was walking by. He took a few coins from his pocket and dropped them into the hat. He then took the sign, turned it around and wrote some words. He put the sign back so that everyone who walked by would see the new words.

Soon the hat began to fill up. A lot more people were giving money to the blind boy.

That afternoon the man who had changed the sign came to see how things were. The boy recognized his footsteps and asked, “Were you the one who changed my sign this morning? What did you write?”

The man said, “I only wrote the truth. I said what you said but in a different way.”

What he had written was: “Today is a beautiful day and I cannot see it.”

Do you think the first sign and the second sign were saying the same thing?

Of course both signs told people the boy was blind. But the first sign simply said the boy was blind. The second sign told people they were so lucky that they were not blind.

Should we be surprised that the second sign was more effective?

Moral of the Story:

Be thankful for what you have. Be creative. Be innovative. Think differently and positively.

Invite others towards good with wisdom. Live life with no excuse and love with no regrets.

When life gives you a 100 reasons to cry, show life that you have 1000 reasons to smile. Face your past without regret. Handle your present with confidence. Prepare for the future without fear. Keep the faith and drop the fear.

Great men say, “Life has to be an incessant process of repair and reconstruction, of discarding evil and developing goodness! In the journey of life, if you want to travel without fear, you must have the ticket of a good conscience.”

The most beautiful thing is to see a person smiling!

And even more beautiful, is knowing that you are the reason behind it!

Unknown Author

The Window

The Window

A young couple moves into a new neighborhood. The next morning, while they are eating breakfast, the young wife sees her neighbor hang the wash outside.

“That laundry is not very clean,” she said to her husband. “The neighbor doesn’t know how to wash correctly. Perhaps she needs better laundry soap.”

Her husband looked on, but remained silent.

Every time her neighbor hung her wash to dry, the young woman would make the same comments.

About one month later, the young woman was surprised to see a nice clean wash on her neighbor’s line and said to her husband, “Look! She has learned how to wash correctly. I wonder who taught her this?”

The husband said, “I got up early this morning and cleaned our windows!”

Can you see how it might be a good idea to check first, to see if your windows are clean? What we see when watching others depends on the purity of the windows through which we look.

Before we give any criticism, it might be a good idea to check our state of mind and ask ourselves if we are ready to see the good rather than just look for something wrong in the people we encounter.

Unknown Author.

katbuendia

You Divorce Me, Carry Me Out in Your Arms

On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The
bridal car stopped in front of our one-room flat. My
buddies insisted that I carry her out of the car in my
arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then
plump and shy.I was a strong and happy bridegroom.

This was the scene ten years ago.The following days
were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid; I
went into business and tried to make more money. When
the assets were steadily increasing, the affection
between us seemed to ebb. She was a civil servant.
Every morning we left home together and got home
almost at the same time. Our kid was studying in a
boarding school.Our marriage life seemed to be
enviably happy. But the calm life was more likely to
be affected by unpredictable changes.

Dew came into my life.It was a sunny day. I stood on a
spacious balcony. Dew hugged me from behind. My heart
once again was immersed in her stream of love. This
was
the apartment I bought for her.Dew said, you are the
kind of man who best draws girls ’ eyeballs. Her words
suddenly reminded me of my wife. When we were just
married, my wife said,Men like you, once successful,
will be very attractive to girls.Thinking of this, I
became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my
wife. But I couldn ’ t help doing so.I moved Dew ’ s
hands aside and said you go to select some furniture,
O.K.? I ’ ve got something to do in the company.
Obviously she was unhappy, because I had promised to
do it together with her. At the moment, the idea of
divorce became clearer in my mind although it used to
be something impossible to me.

However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife
about it. No matter how mildly I mentioned it to her,
she would be deeply hurt.Honestly, she was a good
wife. Every evening she was busy preparing dinner.I
was sitting in front of the TV. The dinner was ready
soon. Then we
watched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the
computer, visualizing Dew ’ s body. This was the means
of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slightly joking way,
suppose we divorce, what will you do? She stared at me
for a few seconds without a word. Apparently she
believed that divorce was something too far away from
her. I couldn ’ t
imagine how she would react once she got to know I was
serious.One day when my wife went to my office, Dew
had just stepped out. Almost all the staff looked at
my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide
something
while talking to her. She seemed to have got some
hint. She gently smiled at my subordinates. But I read
some hurt in her eyes.

Once again, Dew said to me, He Ning, divorce her,
O.K.? Then we livetogether. I nodded. I knew I could
not hesitate any more.That evening when my wife served
the last dish, I held her hand. I ’ ve got something
to
tell you, I said. She sat down and ate quietly. Again
I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn ’ t
know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know
what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the
serious topic
calmly.She didn ’ t seem to be annoyed by my words,
instead she asked me softly,why? I ’ m serious, I
said. I avoided her question. This so-called answer
made her
angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at
me, you are not a man!That night, we didn ’ t talk to
each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find
out what had happened to our marriage. But I could
hardly
give her a satisfactory answer, because my heart had
gone to Dew.

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce
agreement which stated that she could own our house,
our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at
it and then tore it into pieces. I felt a pain in my
heart. The woman
who had been living ten years with me would become a
stranger one day. But I could not take back what I had
said.Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which
was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was
actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which
had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer
and clearer.

Late that night, I came back home after entertaining
my clients. I saw her writing something at the table.
I fall asleep fast. When I woke up, I found she was
still there. I turned over and was asleep again.

She brought up her divorce conditions: she didn ’ t
want anything from me, but I was supposed to give her
one month s time before divorce, and in the month ’ s
time we must live as normal a life as possible. Her
reason was
simple: our son would finish his summer vacation a
month later and she didn ’ t want him to see our
marriage was broken.She passed me the agreement she
drafted, and then asked me, He Ning, do you still
remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding
day? This question suddenly brought back all those
wonderful memories to me. I nodded and said, I
remember. You carried me in your arms, she continued,
so, I have a requirement, that is, you carry me out in
your arms on the day when we divorce. From now to the
end of this month, you must carry me out from the
bedroom to the door every morning.I accepted with a
smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished
to end her marriage romantically.

I told Dew about my wife s divorce conditions. She
laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter
what tricks she does, she has to face the result of
divorce, she said scornfully. Her words more or less
made me feel
uncomfortable. My wife and I hadn ’ t had any body
contact since my divorce intention was explicitly
expressed. We even treated each other as a stranger.
So when I carried her out on the first day, we both
appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is
holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a
sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room,
then to the door, I walked
over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her
eyes and said softly,Let us start from today, don ’ t
tell our son. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put
her down outside the door. She went to wait for a bus,
I drove
to the office.On the second day, both of us acted much
more easily. She leaned on my chest. We were so close
that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I
realized that I hadn ’ t looked at this intimate woman
carefully for a long time. I found she was not young
any more. There were some fine wrinkles on her face.On
the third day, she whispered to me, the outside garden
is being demolished. Be careful when you pass there.On
the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel
that we were still an intimate couple and I was
holding my sweetheart in my arms. The visualization of
Dew became vague.On the fifth and sixth day, she kept
reminding me something, such as, where she put the
ironed shirts, I should be careful while cooking, etc.
Inodded. The sense of intimacy was even stronger. I
didn ’ t tell Dew about
this. I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the
everyday workout made me stronger. I said to her, It
seems not difficult to carry you now. She was picking
her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried
quite a few but could not find a suitable one. Then
she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I
smiled. But I suddenly realized that it was because
she was thinner that I could carry her more easily,
not because I was stronger. I knew she had buried all
the bitterness in her heart. Again, I felt a sense of
pain. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her
head.Our son came in at the moment. Dad, it ’ s time
to carry mum out. He said. To him, seeing his father
carrying his mother out had been an essential part of
his life. She gestured our son to come closer and
hugged him tightly. I turned my face because I was
afraid I would change my mind at the last
minute. I held her in my arms, walking from the
bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her
hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held
her body tightly, as if we came back to our wedding
day.But her much lighter weight made me sad.On the
last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly
move a step. Our
son had gone to school. She said, I had hoped you
would hold me in your arms until we are old.I held her
tightly and said, both you and I didn ’ t notice that
our life
lacked intimacy.

I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the
door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my
decision. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door. I
said to her, Sorry, Dew, I won ’ t divorce. I ’ m
serious.She looked at me, astonished. The she touched
my forehead. You got no
fever. She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry,
Dew, I said, I can only say sorry to you, I won ’ t
divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because
she and I didn ’ t value the details of life, not
because we
didn ’ t love each other any more. Now I understand
that since I carried her into the home, she gave birth
to our child, I am supposed to hold her until I am
old. So I have to say sorry to you.Dew seemed to
suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then
slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked
downstairs and drove to the office.

When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a
bouquet for my wife which was her favorite. The
salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled
and wrote, I ’ ll carry you out every morning until we
are old.

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