The Boy Who Loved Bears « Result #1 on Mar 10, 2009, 3:25am »
A long time ago a Pawnee hunter was returning home after a day's hunting when he saw a baby bear all alone in the forest.
The bear cub looked very frightened and was crying for its mother.
Feeling sorry for the bear cub the hunter picked it up, held it in his arms and gently stroked its fur.
“Did you lose your mother little one?” said the hunter as he stroked the fur under the cub’s chin.
The cub began sucking on the hunter’s finger.
“I think you’re hungry too,” said the hunter. He reached into his bag for the last of the food his wife had given him that morning, and fed the cub.
As he held the cub in his arms, the hunter thought about his pregnant wife and the baby they were expecting any day now.
“Little one,” he said to the cub. “If ever my son or daughter is alone, I pray there will be some one there to help them, like I have helped you.”
The hunter put the bear cub down, then tied a small medicine bag filled with sacred leaves around its neck as protection. The cub curled into a ball on the ground. The hunter stroked the cub’s fur until it fell asleep, purring.
The hunter covered the little bear with leaves to hide it.
“Sleep well, little one. I pray your mother will return by the time you wake up,” whispered the hunter to the sleeping cub.
When he returned to his village the hunter told his wife about the little bear.
“That’s really strange,” said his wife. “I saw a bear today too.”
A few days later when their son was born they decided to call him Little Bear.
As the years passed, Little Bear grew into a strong young man. He became the best hunter in the village. He could track animals just like a bear, and catch fish in the streams, just like a bear.
“He even growls like a bear when I try to wake him in the morning,” said Little Bear’s mother.
Often the young hunter would go and sit quietly, praying for hours where the bears were known to live.
“I get this really weird feeling when I’m sitting there praying,” Little Bear said to his father. “It’s as if I can feel the power of the bears.”
One day when Little Bear and other young men from the village were out hunting, braves from another tribe attacked them.
Little Bear and the young men from his village fought bravely but they were outnumbered. The battle continued until Little Bear and his friends lay dead.
Soon after the battle had finished a bear and his mate came upon the horrible scene.
The female bear
recognised Little Bear.
“Look, that is the young man who prays for us. We have to help him!” she said to her husband.
‘I can’t,” said her husband. “My healing medicine only works in the light. The clouds are stopping the sun from shining its light on us.”
Just then the clouds parted and Little Bear was bathed in a single ray of sunlight.
The bear stood tall, raised his arms to the sky and cried. “Oh, Great Spirit! I ask you to return life into the body of this young man.”
The bear continued praying and slowly the life-spirit returned to Little Bear.
The bears gently picked Little Bear up and took him to where they lived. Little Bear stayed there for many months, until he was healed.
When Little Bear was well the bear walked with him to the top of a hill overlooking Little Bear’s village.
The bear held Little Bear's hands in his mighty paws and breathed his spirit into him.
“We are brothers now, and are as one” said the bear. “Whatever happens to me will happen to you, and whatever happens to you will happen to me.”
Little Bear became an even greater hunter and held Bear Ceremonies to heal others and to give thanks to the Great Spirit for the bear. As he grew older Little Bear changed his name to Bear Man.
Bear Man passed on the power of the bear to his children and grandchildren. They passed it on to their children, so even today the power of the bear is still known to the Pawnee people.
After many years, Bear Man died peacefully in his sleep. It is said that an old bear died at that very instant.
The Tiger, the Brahman, and the Jackal « Result #2 on Feb 27, 2009, 2:17am »
Once upon a time, a tiger was caught in a trap. He tried in vain to get out through the bars, and rolled and bit with rage and grief when he failed.
By chance a poor Brahman came by. "Let me out of this cage, oh pious one!" cried the tiger.
"Nay, my friend," replied the Brahman mildly, "you would probably eat me if I did."
"Not at all!" swore the tiger with many oaths; "on the contrary, I should be for ever grateful, and serve you as a slave!"
Now when the tiger sobbed and sighed and wept and swore, the pious Brahman's heart softened, and at last he consented to open the door of the cage. Out popped the tiger, and, seizing the poor man, cried, "What a fool you are! What is to prevent my eating you now, for after being cooped up so long I am just terribly hungry!"
In vain the Brahman pleaded for his life; the most he could gain was a promise to abide by the decision of the first three things he chose to question as to the justice of the tiger's action.
So the Brahman first asked a pipal tree what it thought of the matter, but the pipal tree replied coldly, "What have you to complain about? Don't I give shade and shelter to every one who passes by, and don't they in return tear down my branches to feed their cattle? Don't whimper--be a man!"
Then the Brahman, sad at heart, went further afield till he saw a buffalo turning a well-wheel; but he fared no better from it, for it answered, "You are a fool to expect gratitude! Look at me! Whilst I gave milk they fed me on cotton-seed and oil-cake, but now I am dry they yoke me here, and give me refuse as fodder!"
The Brahman, still more sad, asked the road to give him its opinion.
"My dear sir," said the road, "how foolish you are to expect anything else! Here am I, useful to everybody, yet all, rich and poor, great and small, trample on me as they go past, giving me nothing but the ashes of their pipes and the husks of their grain!"
On this the Brahman turned back sorrowfully, and on the way he met a jackal, who called out, "Why, what's the matter, Mr. Brahman? You look as miserable as a fish out of water!"
The Brahman told him all that had occurred. "How very confusing!" said the jackal, when the recital was ended; "would you mind telling me over again, for everything has got so mixed up?"
The Brahman told it all over again, but the jackal shook his head in a distracted sort of way, and still could not understand.
"It's very odd," said he, sadly, "but it all seems to go in at one ear and out at the other! I will go to the place where it all happened, and then perhaps I shall be able to give a judgment."
So they returned to the cage, by which the tiger was waiting for the Brahman, and sharpening his teeth and claws.
"You've been away a long time!" growled the savage beast, "but now let us begin our dinner."
"Our dinner!" thought the wretched Brahman, as his knees knocked together with fright; "what a remarkably delicate way of putting it!"
"Give me five minutes, my lord!" he pleaded, "in order that I may explain matters to the jackal here, who is somewhat slow in his wits."
The tiger consented, and the Brahman began the whole story over again, not missing a single detail, and spinning as long a yarn as possible.
"Oh, my poor brain! oh, my poor brain!" cried the jackal, wringing its paws. "Let me see! how did it all begin? You were in the cage, and the tiger came walking by--"
"Pooh!" interrupted the tiger, "what a fool you are! I was in the cage."
"Of course!" cried the jackal, pretending to tremble with fright; "yes! I was in the cage--no I wasn't--dear! dear! where are my wits? Let me see--the tiger was in the Brahman, and the cage came walking by--no, that's not it, either! Well, don't mind me, but begin your dinner, for I shall never understand!"
"Yes, you shall!" returned the tiger, in a rage at the jackal's stupidity; "I'll make you understand! Look here--I am the tiger--"
"Yes, my lord!"
"And that is the Brahman--"
"Yes, my lord!"
"And that is the cage--"
"Yes, my lord!"
"And I was in the cage--do you understand?"
"Yes--no--Please, my lord--"
"Well?" cried the tiger impatiently.
"Please, my lord!--how did you get in?"
"How!--why in the usual way, of course!"
"Oh, dear me!--my head is beginning to whirl again! Please don't be angry, my lord, but what is the usual way?"
At this the tiger lost patience, and, jumping into the cage, cried, "This way! Now do you understand how it was?"
"Perfectly!" grinned the jackal, as he dexterously shut the door, "and if you will permit me to say so, I think matters will remain as they were!"
Watching Me Go « Result #3 on Feb 16, 2009, 10:26pm »
The crayoned picture shows a first-grade boy with shoebox arms, stovepipe legs and tears squirting like melon seeds.wow power leveling, The carefully printed caption reads, "I am so sad." It is my son Brendan's drawing-journal entry for September 19. Brendan cried his first day of school, dissolving at his classroom door like a human bouillon cube. wow power leveling,The classroom jiggled with small faces, wet-combed hair, white Nikes and new backpacks. Something furry scuttled around in a big wire cage. Garden flowers rested on Mrs. Phillips's desk. Mrs. Phillips has halo status at our school. She is a kind, soft-spoken master of the six-year-old mind. But even she could not coax Brendan to a seat. Most kids sat eagerly awaiting thingy and Jane and two plus two. Not my Brendan. His eyes streamed, his nose ran and he clung to me like a snail on a strawberry. I plucked him off and escaped. It wasn't that Brendan didn't like school. He was the kid at the preschool Christmas concert who knew everyone's part and who performed "Jingle Bells" with operatic passion. Brendan just didn't like being apart from me. wow power leveling,We'd had some good times, he and I, in those preschool years. We played at the pool. We skated on quiet morning ice. We sampled half the treat tray at weekly neighbourhood coffee parties. Our time together wasn't exactly material for a picture book, but it was time together. And time moves differently for a child. Now in Grade 1, Brendan was faced with five hours of wondering what I was doing with my day. wow gold,Brendan always came home for lunch, the only one of his class not to eat at his desk. But once home, fed and hugged, a far-away look of longing would crease his gentle brow--he wanted to go back to school to play! So I walked him back, waited with him until he spotted someone he knew, then left. He told me once that he watched me until he couldn't see me anymore, so I always walked fast and never looked back. One day when I took Brendan back after lunch, he spied a friend, kissed me goodbye, and scampered right off. I went, feeling pleased for him, celebrating his new independence, his entry into the first-grade social loop. And I felt pleased for myself, a sense of well-being and accomplishment that I, too, had entered the mystic circle of parents whose children separated easily.
Then--I don't know why--I glanced back. And there he was.wow gold, The playground buzzed all around him, kids everywhere, and he stood, his chin tucked close, his body held small, his face intent but not sad, blowing me kisses. So brave, so unashamed, so completely loving, Brendan was watching me go.
No book on mothering could have prepared me for that quick, raw glimpse into my child's soul. My mind leaped 15 years ahead to him packing boxes and his dog grown old and him saying, "Dry up, Mom. It's not like I'm leaving the country." In my mind I tore up the card every mother signs saying she'll let her child go when he's ready. I looked
at my Brendan, wow gold,his shirt tucked in, every button done up, his toes just turned in a bit, and I though, "OK, you're six for me forever. Just try to grow up, I dare you." With a smile I had to really dig for, I blew him a kiss, turned and walked away.
Grandfathers and 3-year-old boys are natural buddies. On this particular day in May, the grandfather was pleased to have the company of his best little pal when planting the vegetable garden. For a while,wow gold the boy seemed to like it too. His small fingers were just the right size to pick up tiny seeds and drop them into Granddad-made holes. They were a great team.
But before long the boy became restless wow power leveling and directed his irritation at the seeds themselves.
"What's this one, Granddad?"
"Beets."
"Ugh, I hate beets."
"Well, then, let's do the zucchini instead."
"Yuck. I really hate zucchini."
"Okay, buddy.wow gold What would you like to plant?"
"How about . . . doughnuts?"
Just in time, the grandfather stopped himself from saying there was no such thing as a doughnut seed. Looking at the unhappy little face, he suddenly got an inspiration.
"Wait a sec. I have to go inside and get the right seeds."
Granddad returned with a handful of Cheerios.wow power leveling He and the small boy solemnly planted them in a special corner of the vegetable garden.
Weeks later, when the real seeds began to break through the soil, the boy became entranced with the tiny seedlings. He spent many afternoons helping Granddad water and hoe and watch them grow. And when the first baby vegetables were harvested, he liked them after all.
For weeks,wow gold he forgot all about the doughnuts. But then one day at lunch, he said, "Grandad, what happened to our doughnuts? How come they didn't grow."
Grandad paused a moment. "Well, you know, doughnuts are tricky. Some years when you plant them, you get lots of doughnuts." He sighed sadly.wow power leveling "But other years, all that comes up are the holes."
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