There is no society!

We live very much in an age when it feels like every person for themselves. It is frequently heard, "If you do not look after yourself then nobody else will." I am sure that this is the case not only where I live but where other readers are living also.

I cannot put my finger on how this change in us came about but I suspect where I live this start with a politician who has now become a hero of history. It was she who said in a very famous speech, "There is no such thing as society." 

Yet, I attended a meeting last night where one of the concerns that were raised more than once was that with the ageing population there was a growing number of older people who were suffering from loneliness and isolation. Concern was being raised that something had to be done.

I did wonder if what was being suggested that we look again at what is happening a begin to rebuild something we once called society.

Once there was a small boy named Shankar. He belonged to a poor family.  One day, he was crossing through the forest carrying some some branches of wood he had gathered for the fire. 

As he walked saw an old man who was very hungry.  Shankar wanted to give him some food, but he did not have food for his own.  So he continued on his way.  

Then, he saw a deer that looked very thirsty.  He wanted to give him some water, but he did not have water for himself.  So journeyed on his way ahead.

Then he saw a man who wanted to make a camp but he did not have enough branches. Shankar asked his problem and gave some of his branches to him.  In return, he gave him some food and water.  

Now he went back to the old man and gave him some food and gave some water to the deer. The old man and the deer were very happy.   Shankar then happily went on his way home gathering one or two more branches on his way.

Some days later Shankar fell down the hill.  He was in pain and he could not move and there seemed no one was there who might help him.  

But, the old man who he had helped before saw him, he came and pulled him up the hill.  He had many wounds on his legs.  The deer whom Shankar had given water saw his wounds and quickly went to the forest and brought some herbs.  After some time his wounds were covered.

We can be very self-sufficient but there often comes a day when there is something we are unable to do for ourselves and it is good to be surrounded by people who care. Maybe we do all have to take responsibility for ourselves but that must not mean the end of society.

Have a marvellous day. 

Possessions.

Some three years ago I had a new ankle fitted, all my running in the mountains had brought me to the position that walking without severe pain was becoming a problem, and running was a definite impossibility. Being prone to infections I ended up back in the hospital for some time due to the operation scar becoming infected very badly. 

Now I do not wish to dwell on this it is fresh in my mind because I am now back to suffering that pain once again in the other ankle. Fortunately, I am going to have it scanned fairly soon. 

This and the fact that a dear friend is at present in the same hospital and it seems possible for a fairly long spell. This made me think back to that last time it was me in there. Such a situation certainly makes one aware of what is important in life, and what is not. It hones the mind to sort out priorities. 

There is a tale that makes this point better than I would on my own.

A miser had buried his gold in a secret place in his garden. Every day he went to the spot, dug up the treasure and counted it piece by piece to make sure it was all there. He made so many trips that a thief, who had been observing him, guessed what it was the miser had hidden, and one night quietly dug up the treasure and made off with it.

When the miser made his next visit to his hiding place and discovered his loss, he was overcome with grief. He groaned and cried and tore at his hair.

A friend who lived nearby heard his wailing and groaning and went to see what was up.

He asked the miser what was wrong and could he help. " My gold, all my gold!" he cried, "Somebody has robbed me of all my gold."

The neighbour on hearing this pointed to the hole in the ground, "Did you bury your gold in there?" he asked. "Why did you not keep it in the house where you could easily get to it when you needed to purchase things?"

"Buy things!" screamed the miser angrily. "Why, I never touched the gold other than to count it. I could never think of spending it.

The neighbour on hearing this looked around the garden and picked up a large stone which he threw into the hole. "If it is the case that you do not want the gold to make purchases,'" he said, "cover up this stone. it is worth just as much as the treasure that has been stolen!"

Saving, spending wisely and appropriately is a good sign if you do it for a good purpose. Otherwise, a possession is worth no more than the use we make of it.

Have a good day and you are in our thoughts Jim, get well soon.

Beware what we say.

In the past year and even more so in the past few weeks I have had occasion to read back over much of that which I have written in a flurry of thought.

I read the next chapter/verse of the Tao Te Ching and then I head off out to enjoy a contemplative walk. For a time I can avoid all the chatter of Brexit and all the thoughts that stir up in the brain and instead consider the much more contemplative words I read. rn

Between this and the wonder of nature, I return home with a head full of thoughts that I want to get down on paper.

So I write in a flurry of activity and later return to read it again. How often I have discovered that my brain can travel faster than my old fingers and what ends up on the page is not exactly what was going through my mind. Fortunately, they are being read again and the ones I have not spotted have been pointed out to me.

In the past few weeks, I have had a good few chuckles at some of the silly things I have written.

Fortunately, I am not alone in this and it is possible to look back and find somethings that have been written or said that on reflection make little sense. Here are one or two such.

A verbal contract isn't worth the paper it's printed on.

Every Tom, Dick, and Harry is named William.

Now, ladies and gentlemen, listen slowly.

For your information, I would like to ask a question.

Include me out.

Don't talk to me while I'm interrupting.

I may not always be right, but I'm never wrong.

Thank goodness I am writing and before it becomes too widely read it is being spotted. Now consider this; If I am doing this on a keyboard it is time for me to consider what I am doing at other times with my mouth. This is indeed a frightening thought. 

I should have made a New year Resolution that I would always put my brain into gear before engaging my mouth. 

Worthy of some thought? 

Have a great day and if you are by any chance reading this my friend Jim get well soon.

Scattering your talent.

In the last week or so I have been spreading myself thin over far too many things. I need not go into them here because I have spoken of it before. Sooner or later things catch up on us and we discover that we might have been doing a great many things but not doing any of them or all well.

I have also discovered that on doing this you raise expectations that can never be fulfilled. Not only do you let yourself down but you also let others down. 

I remember way back in the days of my youth when I decided to take up trying to play the clarinet. I was attracted to the sound of the instrument and the idea of making music appealed to me. I went along one evening to sign up for lessons. My discovery was that I would have to go every evening five days a week for an hour. I expressed doubts to my father and can hear him even now saying to me, "Nothing that is valuable is achieved without effort."

How true this is, but how I wish he had also told me that spreading yourself thinly over many things do not work either.

Fritz Kreisler, the famous violinist, testified to this point when he said, "Narrow is the road that leads to the life of a violinist. Hour after hour, day after day and week after week, for years, I lived with my violin. 

There were so many things that I wanted to do that I had to leave undone; there were so many places I wanted to go that I had to miss if I was to master the violin. The road that I travelled was a narrow road and the way was hard." 

 Luciano Pavarotti relates "When I was a boy, my father, a baker, introduced me to the wonders of the song. He urged me to work very hard to develop my voice. Arrigo Pola, a professional tenor in my hometown of Modena, Italy, took me as a pupil. I also enrolled in a teachers college. On graduating, I asked my father, 'Shall I be a teacher or a singer?' "

"Luciano,' my father replied, "if you try to sit on two chairs, you will fall between them. For life, you must choose one chair.' "I chose one. It took seven years of study and frustration before I made my first professional appearance. It took another seven to reach the Metropolitan Opera. 

I think whether it's laying bricks, writing a book, whatever we choose, we should give ourselves to it.

Commitment, that's the key. 

But maybe we also need to choose one chair.

Have a great day.

Unexpected Events.

I was thinking yesterday of how life sometimes hits us with the unexpected and all our plans go out the window. While thinking about this I found myself remembering a very true story a student of mine had written during his first week in my class. I often set this little task of them writing something about themselves as it helped in so many ways for me to get to know them a bit better and in a shorter time scale.

The young lad produced a rather moving story that I share with you now. It went something like this.

I was thirteen and living a dream, or what our family would class as a dream. I was being chauffeured around in sparkly, red, metallic Lamborghinis. My dad took so much joy and pride in his cars giving them names and personalities. He owned a huge oil company that was located not far from where we had a beautiful large house.   

I had to brothers John 10 and Daniel, 16. We were a tough threesome to care for but we knew our mum was the best for the job. We were a really close family and nothing but love was shared. Our house was a meeting point, a place that would stand tall in times of trouble, a place we could come back to if nothing turned out right, a place where we felt safe, a place that we called home.

We had lived in Scotland all our lives. Out the front of our house stood tall, overgrown, peach tree. That would produce the most delectable peaches in the world. They would fill your mouth with creamy nutritional protein. 

Our parents weren’t believers in bigger is better nor more expensive is better. They were just happy to have a roof over their heads. They weren’t at all worried how rich they were. Money was nothing to them at all. They even told us that we were never going to live in a mansion there was just no need. They were not the type of people that were snotty about what brands their possessions were such as clothes and food they just told us that we were lucky to have clothes. 

My parents were unique, everything they did was unique and that’s what I loved about them. We would donate any clothes that did not fit us, half of our parent’s wages and just about anything we could to help others out. Each charity would thank us dearly even when we were just walking by. 

I would lay dreamily on my bed, gazing at the stars, thinking about just how good we have got it.

One afternoon in spring my parents sat down and gestured for me to do the same too so I did. My mum reached out her hands towards mine to grab it, so I did that too. They started talking, but I wasn’t in the right place to listen to anyone so I tried desperately to tune them out with my selective hearing powers. 

They rambled on for ages or what felt like a very, very long time! Until they came to the conclusion of the word, “Divorce.” 

And from then on, my whole world came crashing down!

So the story went. Based on the reality of his parents having been divorced and he lives apart from his father the rest was mostly his dreams.

Always be prepared for the unexpected we never know what is around the corner. 

Have a great day.

Dependence

For as long as I can remember I have been a very independent person having a mind of my own my mother used to call it. This tendency has shown up in both of my children. From a very early age, my daughter dictated what she would wear and would not be happy with anything else so she often could be seen with a beautiful summer dress and wellington boots. My son will always come to a problem and see it in a completely different way from anybody else.

Being such never comes easily it frequently brought me into conflict with others especially teachers who found it easier to cope with a class if all were signing from the same hymn sheet. 

I have frequently made me question why I am such a person. How often I have found myself in a company and everybody else is enthusiastically chatting about a film or television programme that I have switched off or refused to watch.

I frequently rejoice in the fact that I still have around me friends who put up with my differences with a little grin or a word about how they would not have expected otherwise from me.

Of course, there have been times and I am sure there will be others when my independence has got me into trouble. An example I read somewhere was very familiar to me.

A sign read in a textile mill said, "When your thread becomes tangled, call the foreman." 

A young woman was new on the job. Her thread became tangled and she thought, "I'll just straighten this out myself." She tried, but the situation only worsened. Finally, she called the foreman. "I did the best I could," she said. "No, you didn't. To do the best, you should have called me that would have been the best you could have done."

While walking yesterday I travelled along a public footpath I had never walked before only to discover I was walking through wet and sticky mud that made walking very difficult and aggravated the pain I was already feeling in my foot.

Of course, my head was full of negative thoughts and I was wishing I had not chosen to take that turn off from what had been relatively simpler walking.

Then as I looked around me I saw so many things that showed me I was walking a path alongside very productive farmland and that in the summer this path would abound in wildflowers. I even passed a field on Highland cattle much to my delight.

I found myself taking out my little notebook and writing down the following. 

I am, despite any artistic pretensions, any sophistication and any accomplishments I may have still owed the fact of my existence to a six-inch layer of topsoil and the fact that it rains and the sun shines.

Now I may feel independent but in truth like all of us I am not. 

Have a great day.

Passionate

I am not sure how often in the past few days I have heard somebody being described as passionate about something but it has happened fairly frequently. 

A father speaking of his son kicking his football on the grass opposite my home said that his son was passionate about his football. On looking at the attire of the father I could possibly understand why the son was indeed passionate about football. The fact that it was rather obvious that he was also passionate about football and the following of one team.

A  daughter described as being passionate about dancing. The mother said, "We go dancing three times a week, she just loves it." The fact that the mother spoke in the plural just might have had something to do with it.

It is true that we do become passionate about things and when those passions take a hold they can have a very important role in the onward course of our lives.

it has taken me many years and I still to this day struggle with allowing interests to become passions. As a younger man, it was always said of me that I never took up anything without taking it up one hundred per cent, and sometimes more, and with a passion.  From getting a fish tank and some fish it was a very short time until I had almost forty tanks and was breeding a variety of tropical fish.

From running around the house grounds to running a marathon and then a marathon almost every weekend seemed to take no time at all. 

Now there s nothing at all wrong with having passion about something and giving it your all but there has to be a measure of realism or a passion can rapidly become all consuming.

It is finding the happy place along the line between those two.

There is a little tale that throws some light on this.

The tale is told of a great English actor Macready. 

An eminent preacher once said to him: "I wish you would explain to me something." "Well, what is it? I don't know that I can explain anything to a preacher." 

"What is the reason for the difference between you and me? You are appearing before crowds night after night with fiction, and the crowds come wherever you go. I am preaching the essential and unchangeable truth, and I am not getting any crowd at all." 

Macready thought for a long moment then gave this answer,  "This is quite simple. I can tell you the difference between us. I present my fiction as though it were the truth and with some passion.  You present your truth as though it were fiction and lacking any passion for your subject." 

Have a thoughtful and marvellous day. 

Attachment

I have taken to making notes of my thoughts through the course of the day. As I walk my mind frequently goes into overdrive of thoughts and thinking but when I get back home the thoughts have disappeared from the mind as if they had been loosened with the laces of my walking boots.

It is like the brilliant thoughts that flit through the mind in the middle of the night but disappear with the darkness in the breaking of the day. Now I have not taken to getting up during the night to make notes because having done that in the past I have often discovered that what sounds brilliant during the night looks like nonsense in the light of day. Though many a problem has been solved during the long hours of the night. Something that seemed impossible all of a sudden seems so simple.

My new project is about working through once again the eighty-one verses this time trying to explain it with a word and a description. My word yesterday was detachment so my thoughts this morning are very much along those lines.

As I walked I played with this thought.

A man who has gone out of his town comes back and finds that his house is on fire.

It was one of the most beautiful houses in the town, and the man loved the house almost as much as anything else he owned.

Many were ready to give him twice what it was worth to buy it from him. He had never agreed to sell it and now he stood watching as it burned.

A great many people gathered, but nothing could be done, the fire has spread so far that even if you tried to put it out, nothing would be saved. So he becomes very sad.

As he stands watching it burn his son comes running and whispers in his ear.

"Don't be worried. I sold it yesterday and at a very good price. The offer was so good I could not wait for you. Forgive me."

The father thought, "thank God, it's not ours now!" Then the father is relaxed and became a silent watcher, just like all of the other watchers.


Please think about it! 
Just a moment before he was not a watcher, he was attached.

It is the same house, the same fire, everything is the same, but now he is not concerned. 

In fact, he started enjoying it just like everybody else in the crowd.

Then the second son comes running, and he says to the father, "What are you doing? You are smiling and the house is on fire?" 

The father says, "Do not you know, your brother has sold it."

He said, "We have taken only advance amount, not settled fully. I doubt now that the man is going to purchase it now."

Again, everything changes!!

Tears which had disappeared, have come back to the father's eyes, his smile is no more there, his heart is beating fast. The 'watcher' is gone. He is again attached.

And then the third son comes, and he says, "That man is a man of his word. I have just come from him. He said, "It does not matter whether the house is burnt or not, it is mine. And I am going to pay the price that I have settled for. 

Neither you knew, nor I knew that the house would catch on fire.'"

Again the joy is back and the family became 'watchers'! 

They are no longer attached.

Actually nothing is changing!

Just the feeling that "I am the owner! I am not the owner of the house!"

That makes a whole world difference. Beware of what we become attached too. Attachment can lead to many things and many emotions such as jealousy.

Have a wonderful day and my apologies for my longish rant today.

Equality.

I find it strange how we in Scotland so frequently use the quotation similar to the following, "We are ah Jock Thompson's Bairns." This means simply that we are all equal when we are blatantly not. How we would all like to be but there always has been, and it seems to me that there always will be, those who are more equal than others. 

 Equality comes in many guises. Equality of race, equality under the law, equality of the sexes and equality of religion. My mind was again brought to this as I worked on the next chapter of my book. I found myself asking are all artists equal and all art treated the of an even playing field? Sadly the answer is not.

I remembered a lovely tale I learned as a boy and I have remembered it for all those years. 

There were three boys who became very good friends and joined together in many games, projects and ploys. As they grew older one of the three told the other two that he wished to be like them, What was the difference? Well, he was black and they were white.

Great thought was given to this seemingly worrying problem. Then one day one of the boys said he had heard of a sea where if you swam in it would wash their friend and make him the same as they were, white.

So they journey to this sea and on finding it noticed that it was a very dark almost black chocolate colour. Nevertheless in they went and made the further discovery that it also tasted of chocolate.

They sawm and drank this beautiful tasting sea until they became tired when they all climbed out. What they saw then shocked them. The sea had not made their friend the same colour as them. The opposite had happened they looked just like him.

They began to make the journey home and on the way had a swim in a beautiful looking river. On coming out of the river they discovered they were once more back to normal, two white and one black friend.

But more importantly what they discovered that day was that inequality did not rest in the colour but in the mind, as do all inequalities of being.

It is thoughts and thinking that takes away inequality not changes of being.

Have a marvellous day a bit too cold here in Scotland to go swimming other than in a heated pool I will stick to going for a walk.

Possibilities.

Yesterday I managed to sit down and open a blank canvas on my iPad and began to produce the beginning of a floral painting. I have made a very positive start on my next project though wondering if my head has enough ideas to complete my way through the eighty-one chapters I wish to relate to art and artists.

While out walking my mind was abuzz with thoughts on this very matter and I began to have those doubts that seem to invade the brain. Then I remembered a quote I had read about this present world and age. It went something like this. 

"We live in a world of nearly endless possibilities and have more opportunities at our fingertips than any generation before us. Every place can be travelled to, every adventure can be lived. We just have to do it."

 Everything seems possible, and yet, we dream big and do little. In fact, in the light of the many possibilities, it is such a shame that we also live in a world with more division and more unrest. A world with more people unable to cope with the pace of modern life.

In the process of all of this thinking, I ended up on a road I had never walked before and travelling more miles than I have in a long time.

Maybe the answer lies right there we spend far too much time thinking about what we would like to achieve, or what we think the world owes us, rather than just doing it.

A lady who had become deeply committed to the furtherance of women and women's rights returned from a conference set up to do just this and was met by her daughter.

Her five-year-old daughter, Lisa, greeted her with the news that when she grew up she wanted to be a nurse. 

 At this time nursing was thought by many to be a "woman's job." The mother told her daughter she could be anything she wanted to be. 

"You can be a lawyer, a surgeon, a banker, Prime Minister, you can be anything." 

Lisa looked a little dubious.

"Anything? Anything at all?" She thought about it, and then her face lit up with ambition. 

"All right," she said. "I'll be a horse."

There are times when ambition can take us further than reality. 

Have a great day.

Blue Monday.

Life often takes a turn when we least expect it to. I was so convinced that everything was going smoothly and life was getting back into some kind of normality and I was breathing a sigh of relief. No more coughing and no more difficulties getting a breath.

My book was finished and published and the ideas for a new project were taking shape. Yes all seemed to be on track. 

It is times like this that we relax and take our eye off the ball and before we know where we are there are so many things that need to be done. 

I am told that this is what is now known as Blue Monday. It is when all the promises you made from for the New Year have gone the way of every New Year. All the resolutions have slipped and we are forced to admit that nothing has changed.

Many people, I am told, at this time of ear suffer from depression and despair things seem to be that they could get no worse.

It is of course never true. Things can always get worse. But they can also get better. So what if a few resolutions have gone?  So what if some great dreams have slipped.? The day has started and you have all this time before you.

There is a tale, like so many such tales, of the man who had to face the end of all things. Surely nothing can be as bad as this?

A man finds himself in front of the Pearly Gates and he is speaking to St. Peter who explains that it's not easy to get into heaven.

There are some criteria that must be met before entry is allowed. 

For example, was the man a church-goer or religious? No?

St. Peter told him that's bad.

Was he generous, giving money to the poor or to charities? No?

St. Peter told him that that, too, was bad.

Did he do any good deeds, such as helping his neighbour? Anything? No?

St. Peter was becoming concerned.

Exasperated, the Saint says,'Look, everybody does something nice sometimes. Work with me, here! I'm trying to help. Now think!"

The man thinks for a minute, then says, "Well, I did help this old lady once. I came out of a store and saw that a dozen Hell's Angels had taken her purse and were shoving her around. I threw my bags down and got her purse back, then I told the biggest biker there that he was cowardly and I slapped his face."

"Wow," said St. Peter, "that's impressive! When did this happen?"

"Oh, about 15 minutes ago," replied the man.

Blue Monday! Such nonsense have a great day.

Winning and losing.

I have made a tentative start on my new work on Taoism. I was so sure when I finished and had managed to be published I would tick that off my bucket list and call it a day. Instead, I have found myself drawn back to the text I have been working and reading it again this time not just as a text but as something to consider further.

Beginning something new seems to overwhelm me until I get back into some kind of routine of thinking during my day. So I have purchased a little notebook and I intend carrying it with me as I walk to note down any thoughts that might help me on my way.

Yesterday strangely I was on the theme of winning and losing. I remembered this little tale that I heard many many years ago. As I thought of it it seemed to fit our present situation in this country in which I live. We are a nation divided almost down the centre between those who wish to remain and those who wish to leave. Sadly politicians are telling us if we do not go with one side there will be a tsunami of disquiet. Winning and losing so seem to affect us.

Pete hated losing at anything. His parents, teachers, and many others said he didn't know how to lose, but the truth of it was that he couldn't stand losing, not even at marbles. It was so great, and he felt so good, when he won, that he never wanted to give up that feeling; not for anything in the world. On top of that, losing made him feel precisely the opposite. 

It seemed to Pete that losing was the worst thing that could happen to anyone. If there was a game Pete wasn't brilliant at, he simply wouldn't play it. But if he was going to win he would take part, even if the game lasted only a minute. And the kind of things he was really good at, like table tennis, you could hardly stop him playing. 

A new lad started at Pete's school, his name was Albert. Albert was a cracking table tennis player, and it didn't take Pete and Albert long before they challenged each other to a game. Pete prepared for the match with great seriousness. He was concentrated and intense. Albert, on the other hand, seemed not to be taking the thing at all seriously. He walked about the whole time, smiling and cracking jokes about all sorts of things. But on the ping pong table, Albert was a real phenomenon. He scored points, again and again, laughing and joking all the time. 

However, Albert was paying so little attention to the match that Pete managed to change the scoreboard while his opponent was looking elsewhere, and so Pete managed to win by cheating. Pete made a big thing of his win, but it seemed not to matter to Albert, saying "It's been fun. We should play again some other time".

On that day, people at school talked about little else. Pete's great victory was on everyone's lips. But, that night, Pete didn't feel so happy. He had won, but even with that, there was no trace of the joyful feeling he usually enjoyed so much. What's more, Albert hadn't felt bad about losing. He almost seemed to enjoy it. And, to top it all, the next day Pete saw Albert playing basketball. He was absolutely hopeless; he lost time after time. But that happy smile never left his face.

For several days Pete watched Albert. He was great at some things, terrible at others but he enjoyed everything equally. Pete began learning that to enjoy a game you didn't have to have a scoreboard; nor did you have to have winning and losing. 

What you had to do was enjoy the game for its own sake, trying to do well, and enjoying each aspect of it.

So have a great day whatever you do and it is not about winning and losing it is about living and caring.

It is surprising.

I had a very pleasurable experience last night. I was out with my friends to the local inn for an ale and a chat. In the inn was another friend who had asked me to paint her friend's cat. Now having written that I had better say that no animal was hurt or harmed in this process. I painted a picture of the cat on my iPad and it was transferred to canvas.  Last night the owner of the cat arrived home to find the parcel in the kitchen. 

Her friend had called her to explain that she had left it for her while over at the house to feed the cat. So on a conference call, I was able to watch as she opened the parcel and saw the painting. It was a wonderful moment and made my evening. 

In many ways, this has been an interesting week. This last night, my visit to see the consultant about the pain in my foot was not so pleasant and it seems I may have to live with this for a few more months. Then there was the publishing of the book I have been working on for over a year now.

All sounds very much like a normal week but of course, nothing ever is as expected. Life has a strange way of taking moments and bringing surprises.

Let me share with you just such a tale.

It was back in those days when if a couple were considering marriage they had to discuss this with the family. Yes, I can remember such days.

So the girl in this tale had fallen for a man and they hoped to get married. The girl brought the young man around for a meal and to meet her mother and father. 

After the meal, the young man and the father sat down and with a pleasant glass of wine had a chat.

It went like this.

"So tell me, young man, what are your plans? "

"I am a biblical scholar doing a degree in Theology," the young man replied.

"A biblical scholar. Very admirable but how will you provide a nice home for my daughter to live in?'

" I will study and concentrate on them, God will provide for us."

"How will you buy a beautiful engagement ring for my daughter? "

" I will study and concentrate on them, God will provide for us."

" If you have any children how will you provide for them? "

" I will study and concentrate on them, God will provide for us." 

The conversation went on like this for some time the young man each time to all the questions responded in the same way.

" I will study and concentrate on them, God will provide for us."

Later that evening after the couple had left the mother asked the father how things had gone.

The father looked at his wife very seriously and said. "He has no job. He has no real plans. He seems not to have thought about the future. Worse still he thinks I am God." 

Have a wonderful day. I am at last today going to meet up with my family and we are going out for a meal to celebrate my birthday. At last, we are all over the colds and coughs and able to meet.