Wicked Wanderings: sniffing

An old Indian Grandfather said to his grandson who came to him with anger at a friend who had done him an injustice.

"Let me tell you a story. I too, at times, have felt a great hate for those that have taken so much, with no sorrow for what they do. But hate wears you down, and does not hurt your enemy. It is like taking poison and wishing your enemy would die. I have struggled with these feelings many times."

He continued...

"It is as if there are two wolves inside me; One is good and does no harm. He lives in harmony with all around him and does not take offense when no offense was intended. He will only fight when it is right to do so, and in the right way. He saves all his energy for the right fight.

But the other wolf, ahhh!

He is full of anger. The littlest thing will set him into a fit of temper. He fights everyone, all the time, for no reason. He cannot think because his anger and hate are so great. It is helpless anger, for his anger will change nothing. Sometimes it is hard to live with these two wolves inside me, for both of them try to dominate my spirit."

The boy looked intently into his Grandfather's eyes and asked...

"Which one wins, Grandfather?"

The Grandfather smiled and quietly said...

"The one I feed."

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

sniffing

If I choose to read my history book in the presence of the yellow dog, she must always sniff it twice and lick it three times. No exception.

Sniff
lick
lick
sniff
lick

I tried it...but I'm not picking up any hints of spilled coffee, tea, or weird smells that are similar to that of the leather case I carry my books in. And now that I think of it, I don't know why I would want to subject myself to what horrors that could entail; except perhaps to bond with her without tossing the bald, slimey, split tennis ball across the room.

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Wednesday, November 01, 2006

sniffing