My Best Friend There is a thing which every teen goes through, their first crush. But how many of us actually stop to think about it, to see if it’s just for the sake of it or if it really is a real attraction? But does it matter? The answer, no, it doesn’t really matter. There was a time, when if someone told me that crushes were fading phases of our lives, I would get angry. Why? Because I would think that that person was not taking me seriously. This is what every one of us feels, but we never stop to think how true it is. The day when I first met THAT guy, I thought that this was it, we are meant for each other and then the mood swings would take their toll. It wasn’t a great feeling but this was a phase of life and we have to face it one day or the other. There was a time when I would get fed up with life and always asked myself one question - why me? Why am I the one going through this? But guys, this isn’t the end of life, it’s actually the beginning. I wanted to talk to someone about it but nobody actually understood enough to understand me. That was when I first turned to my diary. Believe me, it helped a lot. It made the impossible possible. It actually changed my life. The world became a new, unexplored thing to me. For me, writing in my diary was a challenge. As I turned through the pages I had written on, I noticed some were tear streaked and some had smiling faces drawn near the margin. I had an overwhelming feeling of excitement every time I wrote in it. I always felt like I was writing in it for the first time. I never got bored with it. It was a new thing every time and this changed my life completely from a sad, quiet person, I became bubbly and full of life. Everything seemed colorful and fun and exciting. It is a wonderful feeling guys, and I want each one of you to experience it. So anytime you feel lonely or sad, turn to your best friend, your diary. --- Author Unknown
November 2012
MONKS A man’s car broke down as he was driving past a beautiful old monastery. He walked up the drive and knocked on the front door. A monk answered, listened to the man’s story and graciously invited him to spend the night. The monks fed the man and led him to a tiny chamber in which to sleep. The man thanked the monks and slept serenely until he was awakened by a strange and beautiful sound. The next morning, as the monks were repairing his car, he asked about the sound that had awakened him. “We’re sorry,” the monks said. “We can’t tell you about the sound. You’re not a monk.” The man was disappointed, but eager to be gone, so he thanked the monks for their kindness and went on his way. During a quiet moment afterward, the man pondered the source of the alluring sound. Several years later the man happened to be driving in the same area. He stopped at the monastery on a whim and asked admittance. He explained to the monks that he had so enjoyed his previous stay, he wondered if he might be permitted to spend another night under their peaceful roof. The monks agreed, and so the man stayed with them again. Late that night, he again heard the strangely beautiful, unearthly sound. The following morning he begged the monks to explain the sound. The monks gave him the same answer as before. “We’re sorry. We can’t tell you about the sound. You’re not a monk.” By now the man’s curiosity had turned to obsession. He decided to give up everything and become a monk, for that was the only way he could learn about the sound. He informed the monks of his decision and began the long and arduous task of becoming a monk. Seven years later, the man was finally established as a true member of the order. When the celebration ended, he humbly went to the leader of the order and asked to be told the source of the wonderful sound. Silently, the old monk led the new monk to a huge wooden door. He opened the door with a golden key. That door swung open to reveal a second door of silver, then a third door of gold, and so on until they had passed through twelve doors, each more magnificent than the last. The new monk’s face was awash with tears of joy as he finally beheld the wondrous source of the beautiful mysterious sound he had heard so many years before.... Ah, but, I can’t tell you what it was, you’re not a monk.
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