Journal of Sacred Work

3 responses to “Day 337 – Can We “Change” Other People?”

1. 

   Edwin Loftin

   December 2, 2008

   The contagion is at our disposal. Each of us have the opportunity, no responsibility, to spread the infectious nature of a loving and healing environment.
   The analogy of change was taught to me by my father, a farmer. There is much about the “success” of a crop in which we have no control. The amount of rain, the timing of the first freeze, the occasional hail storm. If as farmers we focus on this then we are great predictors of future outcomes. Or, as in the case of Loving Leadership, we can focus on the aspects of the crop we can influence. We can choose the best seed, we can thoughtfully till the soil and add the right nutrients. We can be vigilent in the growth stages and weed out intrusions who can take away the energy of our crop. And very importantly we can utilize some of our best crop to generate the next genreation of Loving Leaders.
   So, I challenge myself and each of us to be intentianal and vigilent farmers of Loving Leadership.

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2. 

   ~liz Wessel

   December 2, 2008

   On a day when my contributions seem so small in comparison to what is needed, it helps to read today’s inspiring message and respond to the challenge that Ed offers to each of us. It helps to remember that it is in small things that I can begin anew, with each breath, each thought, and with all my intention, I can choose to share Love’s energy.
   What comes to mind is a wonderful story called “Changing the Face of the Mountain.” Perhaps, I can find this story and post it.
   May Love’s energy continue to expand out from this Journal to bless the hearts of many.

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3. 

   ~liz Wessel

   December 2, 2008

   Changing the Face of the Mountain
   Once upon a time, in a remote, unfriendly village that clung to the side of a mountain, there lived an old woman whose habits seemed strange to her neighbors. Since the harsh winters kept most villagers huddled near their fireplaces, they did not cultivate the art of hospitality, and rarely spoke to anyone outside their immediate families.
   The mountainside, itself bleak and barren, beckoned no one toward its slopes, even in the less harsh seasons of the year. Only the children ventured to climb, ever so stealthily, partway up its side; a daring feat that they were cautioned not to do by their parents.
   During such furtive forays, they inevitably met the old woman. Most of the time she was bending over, digging a little hole in the ground, and dropping a tiny something into it. The braver children asked: “what are you doing, old woman?” Her reply was always the same: “I am changing the face of the mountain.”
   The children grew into adulthood, and most left the village for the world of cities. It came to pass, however, after several decades, one grown child returned to show her husband and children the harsh environment of her youth that she had often described to them. She came back but she did not recognize it.
   The mountainside was ablaze with a dazzling array of colorful flowers gently swaying in the breeze. Clusters of bushes and young trees lent their foliage as shade to the myriads of children and adults gathered along the base of the mountain. All spoke to each other, laughed and played games. Families and neighbors picnicked together.
   The woman who had returned stopped one of the villagers to ask: “When did all of this come about? What happened to the bleak and barren mountainside of my childhood?” The villager replied: “Do you remember the strange old woman who lived here, the one who would wander up and down the mountainside?” It was she who planted these seeds. She went out every day, intent on her sowing; believing all the while the results would fruit.”
   The woman did recall the image of this old and bent figure from her childhood. At last, she understood the meaning of these words: “I am changing the face of the mountain.”

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