Tuesday, December 30, 2008
between private men
It is a strange thing to observe, how high a rate great kings and monarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship, whereof we speak: so great, as they purchase it, many times, at the hazard of their own safety and greatness. For princes, in regard of the distance of their fortune from that of their subjects and servants, cannot gather this fruit, except (to make themselves capable thereof) they raise some persons to be, as it were, companions and almost equals to themselves, which many times sorteth to inconvenience. The modern languages give unto such persons the name of favorites, or privadoes; as if it were matter of grace, or conversation. But the Roman name attaineth the true use and cause thereof, naming them participes curarum; for it is that which tieth the knot. And we see plainly that this hath been done, not by weak and passionate princes only, but by the wisest and most politic that ever reigned; who have oftentimes joined to themselves some of their servants; whom both themselves have called friends, and allowed other likewise to call them in the same manner; using the word which is received between private men.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
quit the stage
After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace in the affections, and support of the
judgment), followeth the last fruit; which is like the pomegranate, full of many kernels; I
mean aid, and bearing a part, in all actions and occasions. Here the best way to represent
to life the manifold use of friendship, is to cast and see how many things there are, which
a man cannot do himself; and then it will appear, that it was a sparing speech of the
ancients, to say, that a friend is another himself; for that a friend is far more than
himself. Men have their time, and die many times, in desire of some things which they
principally take to heart; the bestowing of a child, the finishing of a work, or the like.
If a man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure that the care of those things will
continue after him. So that a man hath, as it were, two lives in his desires. A man hath a
body, and that body is confined to a place; but where friendship is, all offices of life are
as it were granted to him, and his deputy. For he may exercise them by his friend. How many
things are there which a man cannot, with any face or comeliness, say or do himself? A man
can scarce allege his own merits with modesty, much less extol them; a man cannot sometimes
brook to supplicate or beg; and a number of the like. But all these things are graceful, in
a friend’s mouth, which are blushing in a man’s own. So again, a man’s person hath many
proper relations, which he cannot put off. A man cannot speak to his son but as a father; to
his wife but as a husband; to his enemy but upon terms: whereas a friend may speak as the
case requires, and not as it sorteth with the person. But to enumerate these things were
endless; I have given the rule, where a man cannot fitly play his own part; if he have not a
friend, he may quit the stage.
judgment), followeth the last fruit; which is like the pomegranate, full of many kernels; I
mean aid, and bearing a part, in all actions and occasions. Here the best way to represent
to life the manifold use of friendship, is to cast and see how many things there are, which
a man cannot do himself; and then it will appear, that it was a sparing speech of the
ancients, to say, that a friend is another himself; for that a friend is far more than
himself. Men have their time, and die many times, in desire of some things which they
principally take to heart; the bestowing of a child, the finishing of a work, or the like.
If a man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure that the care of those things will
continue after him. So that a man hath, as it were, two lives in his desires. A man hath a
body, and that body is confined to a place; but where friendship is, all offices of life are
as it were granted to him, and his deputy. For he may exercise them by his friend. How many
things are there which a man cannot, with any face or comeliness, say or do himself? A man
can scarce allege his own merits with modesty, much less extol them; a man cannot sometimes
brook to supplicate or beg; and a number of the like. But all these things are graceful, in
a friend’s mouth, which are blushing in a man’s own. So again, a man’s person hath many
proper relations, which he cannot put off. A man cannot speak to his son but as a father; to
his wife but as a husband; to his enemy but upon terms: whereas a friend may speak as the
case requires, and not as it sorteth with the person. But to enumerate these things were
endless; I have given the rule, where a man cannot fitly play his own part; if he have not a
friend, he may quit the stage.
Friday, December 26, 2008
this weakness appear
Neither doth this weakness appear to others only, and not to the party loved, but to he loved most of all; except the love be reciprocal. For it is a true rule, that love is ever rewarded either with the reciprocal, or with an inward and secret contempt: by how much the more men ought to beware of this passion, which loseth not only other things but itself. As for the other losses, the poet's relation doth well figure them; that he that preferred Helena, quitted the gifts of Juno and Pallas: for whosoever esteemeth too much of amourous affection, quitteth both riches and wisdom. This passion hath his floods in the very times of weakness, which are, great prosperity and great adversity; though this latter hath been less observed: both which times kindle love, and make it more frequent, and therefore, show it to be the child of folly. They do best, who, if they cannot but admit love, yet make it keep quarter; and sever it wholly from their serious affairs and actions of life: for if it check once with business, it troubleth men's fortunes, and maketh men that they can no ways be true to their own ends. I know not how, but martial men are given to love: I think it is, but as they are given to wine; for perils commonly ask to be paid in pleasures. There is in man's nature a secret inclination and motion toward love of others, which, if it be not spent upon some one or a few, doth naturally spread itself toward many, and maketh men to become humane and charitable; as it is seen sometimes in friars. Nuptial love maketh mankind; friendly love perfecteth it; but wanton love corrupteth and embaseth it.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
to be wise
The stage is more beholding to love, than the life of man. For as to the stage, love is even matter of comedies, and now and then of tragedies; but in life it doth much mischief, sometimes like a siren, sometimes like a fury. You may observe, that amongst all the great and worthy persons, (whereof the memory remaineth, either ancient or recent,) there is not one that hath been transported to the mad degree of love; which shows, that great spirits and great business do keep out this weak passion. You must except, nevertheless, Marcus Antonius the half partner of the Empire of Rome, and Appius Claudius the Decemvir and lawgiver; whereof the former was indeed a voluptuous man and inordinate; but the latter was an austere and wise man: and therefore it seems (though rarely,) that love can find entrance, not only into an open heart, but also into a heart well fortified, if watch be not well kept. It is a poor saying of Epicurus: Satis magnum alter alteri theatrum sumus; as if man, made for the contemplation of heaven, and all noble objects, should do nothing but kneel before a little idol, and make himself a subject, though not of the mouth (as beasts are,) yet of the eye, which was given him for higher purposes. It is a strange thing to note the excess of this passion; and how it braves the nature and value of things by this, that the speaking in a perpetual hyperbole is comely in nothing but in love. Neither is it merely in the phrase; for whereas it has been well said, that the arch-flatterer, with whom all the petty flatters have intelligence, is a man's self; certainly the lover is more; for there was never proud man thought so absurdly well of himself as the lover doth of the person loved; and therefore it was well said, that it is impossible to love, and to be wise.
Monday, December 22, 2008
lovers of themselves
L. Sylla, when he commanded Rome, raised Pompey (after surnamed the Great) to that height,
that Pompey vaunted himself for Sylla’s overmatch. For when he had carried the consulship
for a friend of his, against the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a little resent
thereat, and began to speak great, Pompey turned upon him again, and in effect bade him be
quiet; for that more men adored the sun rising, than the sun setting. With Julius Caesar,
Decimus Brutus had obtained that interest, as he set him down, in his testament, for heir in
remainder, after his nephew. And this was the man that had power with him, to draw him forth
to his death. For when Caesar would have discharged the senate, in regard of some ill
presages, and specially a dream of Calpurnia; this man lifted him gently by the arm out of
his chair, telling him he hoped he would not dismiss the senate, till his wife had dreamt a
better dream. And it seemeth his favor was so great, as Antonius, in a letter which is
recited verbatim in one of Cicero’s Philippics, calleth him venefica, witch; as if he had
enchanted Caesar. Augustus raised Agrippa (though of mean birth) to that height, as when he
consulted with Maecenas, about the marriage of his daughter Julia, Maecenas took the liberty
to tell him, that he must either marry his daughter to Agrippa, or take away his life; there
was no third war, he had made him so great. With Tiberius Caesar, Sejanus had ascended to
that height, as they two were termed, and reckoned, as a pair of friends. Tiberius in a
letter to him saith, Haec pro amicitia nostra non occultavi; and the whole senate dedicated
an altar to Friendship, as to a goddess, in respect of the great dearness of friendship,
between them two. The like, or more, was between Septimius Severus and Plautianus. For he
forced his eldest son to marry the daughter of Plautianus; and would often maintain
Plautianus, in doing affronts to his son; and did write also in a letter to the senate, by
these words: I love the man so well, as I wish he may over–live me. Now if these princes
had been as a Trajan, or a Marcus Aurelius, a man might have thought that this had proceeded
of an abundant goodness of nature; but being men so wise, of such strength and severity of
mind, and so extreme lovers of themselves, as all these were, it proveth most plainly that
they found their own felicity (though as great as ever happened to mortal men) but as an
half piece, except they mought have a friend, to make it entire; and yet, which is more,
they were princes that had wives, sons, nephews; and yet all these could not supply the
comfort of friendship.
that Pompey vaunted himself for Sylla’s overmatch. For when he had carried the consulship
for a friend of his, against the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a little resent
thereat, and began to speak great, Pompey turned upon him again, and in effect bade him be
quiet; for that more men adored the sun rising, than the sun setting. With Julius Caesar,
Decimus Brutus had obtained that interest, as he set him down, in his testament, for heir in
remainder, after his nephew. And this was the man that had power with him, to draw him forth
to his death. For when Caesar would have discharged the senate, in regard of some ill
presages, and specially a dream of Calpurnia; this man lifted him gently by the arm out of
his chair, telling him he hoped he would not dismiss the senate, till his wife had dreamt a
better dream. And it seemeth his favor was so great, as Antonius, in a letter which is
recited verbatim in one of Cicero’s Philippics, calleth him venefica, witch; as if he had
enchanted Caesar. Augustus raised Agrippa (though of mean birth) to that height, as when he
consulted with Maecenas, about the marriage of his daughter Julia, Maecenas took the liberty
to tell him, that he must either marry his daughter to Agrippa, or take away his life; there
was no third war, he had made him so great. With Tiberius Caesar, Sejanus had ascended to
that height, as they two were termed, and reckoned, as a pair of friends. Tiberius in a
letter to him saith, Haec pro amicitia nostra non occultavi; and the whole senate dedicated
an altar to Friendship, as to a goddess, in respect of the great dearness of friendship,
between them two. The like, or more, was between Septimius Severus and Plautianus. For he
forced his eldest son to marry the daughter of Plautianus; and would often maintain
Plautianus, in doing affronts to his son; and did write also in a letter to the senate, by
these words: I love the man so well, as I wish he may over–live me. Now if these princes
had been as a Trajan, or a Marcus Aurelius, a man might have thought that this had proceeded
of an abundant goodness of nature; but being men so wise, of such strength and severity of
mind, and so extreme lovers of themselves, as all these were, it proveth most plainly that
they found their own felicity (though as great as ever happened to mortal men) but as an
half piece, except they mought have a friend, to make it entire; and yet, which is more,
they were princes that had wives, sons, nephews; and yet all these could not supply the
comfort of friendship.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
this was difficult
Ten years ago, I think, or perhaps a little less or perhaps a little more, I came in the Euston Road - that thoroughfare of Empire - upon a young man a little younger than myself whom I knew, though I did not know him very well. It was drizzling and the second-hand booksellers (who are rare in this thoroughfare) were beginning to put out the waterproof covers over their wares. This disturbed my acquaintance, because he was engaged upon buying a cheap book that should really satisfy him.
Now this was difficult, for he had no hobby, and the book which should satisfy him must be one that should describe or summon up, or, it is better to say, hint at - or, the theologians would say, reveal, or the Platonists would say recall - the Unknown Country, which he thought was his very home.
Now this was difficult, for he had no hobby, and the book which should satisfy him must be one that should describe or summon up, or, it is better to say, hint at - or, the theologians would say, reveal, or the Platonists would say recall - the Unknown Country, which he thought was his very home.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
found a book
I had know his habit of seeking such books for two years, and had half wondered at it and half sympathised. It was an appetite partly satisfied by almost any work that brought to him the vision of a place in the mind which he had always intensely desired, but to which, as he had then long guessed, and as he is now quite certain, no human paths directly lead. He would buy with avidity travels to the moon and to the planets, from the most worthless to the best. He loved Utopias and did not disregard even so prosaic a category as books of real travel, so long as by exaggeration or by a glamour in the style they gave him a full draught of that drug which he desired. Whether this satisfaction the young man sought was a satisfaction in illusion (I have used the word "drug" with hesitation), or whether it was, as he persistently maintained, the satisfaction of a memory, or whether it was, as I am often tempted to think, the satisfaction of a thirst which will ultimately be quenched in every human soul I cannot tell. Whatever it was, he sought it with more than the appetite with which a hungry man seeks food. He sought it with something that was not hunger but passion.
That evening he found a book.
That evening he found a book.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
thoughts to pass in smother
The second fruit of friendship, is healthful and sovereign for the understanding, as the
first is for the affections. For friendship maketh indeed a fair day in the affections, from
storm and tempests; but it maketh daylight in the understanding, out of darkness, and
confusion of thoughts. Neither is this to be understood only of faithful counsel, which a
man receiveth from his friend; but before you come to that, certain it is, that whosoever
hath his mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits and understanding do clarify and break
up, in the communicating and discoursing with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily;
he marshalleth them more orderly, he seeth how they look when they are turned into words:
finally, he waxeth wiser than himself; and that more by an hour’s discourse, than by a day
’s meditation. It was well said by Themistocles, to the king of Persia, That speech was
like cloth of Arras, opened and put abroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in figure;
whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs. Neither is this second fruit of friendship, in
opening the understanding, restrained only to such friends as are able to give a man
counsel; (they indeed are best;) but even without that, a man learneth of himself, and
bringeth his own thoughts to light, and whetteth his wits as against a stone, which itself
cuts not. In a word, a man were better relate himself to a statua, or picture, than to
suffer his thoughts to pass in smother.
first is for the affections. For friendship maketh indeed a fair day in the affections, from
storm and tempests; but it maketh daylight in the understanding, out of darkness, and
confusion of thoughts. Neither is this to be understood only of faithful counsel, which a
man receiveth from his friend; but before you come to that, certain it is, that whosoever
hath his mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits and understanding do clarify and break
up, in the communicating and discoursing with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily;
he marshalleth them more orderly, he seeth how they look when they are turned into words:
finally, he waxeth wiser than himself; and that more by an hour’s discourse, than by a day
’s meditation. It was well said by Themistocles, to the king of Persia, That speech was
like cloth of Arras, opened and put abroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in figure;
whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs. Neither is this second fruit of friendship, in
opening the understanding, restrained only to such friends as are able to give a man
counsel; (they indeed are best;) but even without that, a man learneth of himself, and
bringeth his own thoughts to light, and whetteth his wits as against a stone, which itself
cuts not. In a word, a man were better relate himself to a statua, or picture, than to
suffer his thoughts to pass in smother.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
best be expressed
It is well known that men purchase with difficulty second-hand books upon the stalls, and that in some mysterious way the sellers of these books are content to provide a kind of library for the poorer and more eager of the public, and a library admirable in this, that it is accessible upon every shelf and exposes a man to no control, except that he must not steal, and even in this it is nothing but the force of public law that interferes. My friend therefore would in the natural course of things have dipped into the book and left it there; but a better luck persuaded him. Whether it was the beginning of the rain or a sudden loneliness in such terrible weather and in such a terrible town, compelling him to seek a more permanent companionship with another mind, or whether it was my sudden arrival and shame lest his poverty should appear in his refusing to buy the book - whatever it was, he bought that same. And since he bought the book I also have known it and have found in it, as he did, the most complete expression that I know of the Unknown Country, of which he was a citizen - oddly a citizen, as I then thought, wisely as I now conceive.
All that can best be expressed in words should be expressed in verse, but verse is a slow thing to create; nay, it is not really created: it is a secretion of the mind, it is a pearl that gathers round some irritant and slowly expresses the very essence of beauty and of desire that has lain long, potential and unexpressed, in the mind of the man who secretes it. God knows that this Unknown Country has been hit off in verse a hundred times. If I were perfectly sure of my accents I would quote two lines from the Odyssey in which the Unknown Country stands out as clear as does a sudden vision from a mountain ridge when the mist lifts after a long climb and one sees beneath one an unexpected and glorious land; such a vision as greets a man when he comes over the Saldeu into the simple and secluded Republic of the Andorrans. Then, again, the Germans in their idioms have flashed it out, I am assured, for I remember a woman telling me that there was a song by Schiller which exactly gave the revelation of which I speak. In English, thank Heaven, emotion of this kind, emotion necessary to the life of the soul, is very abundantly furnished. As, who does not know the lines.
All that can best be expressed in words should be expressed in verse, but verse is a slow thing to create; nay, it is not really created: it is a secretion of the mind, it is a pearl that gathers round some irritant and slowly expresses the very essence of beauty and of desire that has lain long, potential and unexpressed, in the mind of the man who secretes it. God knows that this Unknown Country has been hit off in verse a hundred times. If I were perfectly sure of my accents I would quote two lines from the Odyssey in which the Unknown Country stands out as clear as does a sudden vision from a mountain ridge when the mist lifts after a long climb and one sees beneath one an unexpected and glorious land; such a vision as greets a man when he comes over the Saldeu into the simple and secluded Republic of the Andorrans. Then, again, the Germans in their idioms have flashed it out, I am assured, for I remember a woman telling me that there was a song by Schiller which exactly gave the revelation of which I speak. In English, thank Heaven, emotion of this kind, emotion necessary to the life of the soul, is very abundantly furnished. As, who does not know the lines.
Friday, December 12, 2008
top of the wave
Blessed with that which is not in the wordOf man or his conception: Blessed land!
Then there is also the whole group of glimpses which Shakespeare amused himself by scattering as might a man who had a great oak chest full of jewels and who now and then, out of kindly fun, poured out a handful and gave them to his guests. I quote from memory, but I think certain of the lines run more or less like this:
Look how the dawn in russet mantle clad,Stands on the steep of yon high eastern hill.
And again:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund dayStands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
Which moves me to digress. ... How on earth did any living man pull it off as well as that? I remember arguing with a man who very genuinely thought the talent of Shakespeare was exaggerated in public opinion, and discovering at the end of a long wrangle that he was not considering Shakespeare as a poet. But as a poet, then, how on earth did he manage it?Keats did it continually, especially in the Hyperion. Milton does it so well in the Fourth Book of Paradise Lost that I defy any man of a sane understanding to read the whole of that book before going to bed and not to wake up next morning as though he had been on a journey. William Morris does it, especially in the verses about a prayer over the corn; and as for Virgil, the poet Virgil, he does it continually like a man whose very trade it is. Who does not remember the swimmer who saw Italy from the top of the wave?
Then there is also the whole group of glimpses which Shakespeare amused himself by scattering as might a man who had a great oak chest full of jewels and who now and then, out of kindly fun, poured out a handful and gave them to his guests. I quote from memory, but I think certain of the lines run more or less like this:
Look how the dawn in russet mantle clad,Stands on the steep of yon high eastern hill.
And again:
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund dayStands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.
Which moves me to digress. ... How on earth did any living man pull it off as well as that? I remember arguing with a man who very genuinely thought the talent of Shakespeare was exaggerated in public opinion, and discovering at the end of a long wrangle that he was not considering Shakespeare as a poet. But as a poet, then, how on earth did he manage it?Keats did it continually, especially in the Hyperion. Milton does it so well in the Fourth Book of Paradise Lost that I defy any man of a sane understanding to read the whole of that book before going to bed and not to wake up next morning as though he had been on a journey. William Morris does it, especially in the verses about a prayer over the corn; and as for Virgil, the poet Virgil, he does it continually like a man whose very trade it is. Who does not remember the swimmer who saw Italy from the top of the wave?
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
be forgotten
It is not to be forgotten, what Comineus observeth of his first master, Duke Charles the
Hardy, namely, that he would communicate his secrets with none; and least of all, those
secrets which troubled him most. Whereupon he goeth on, and saith that towards his latter
time, that closeness did impair, and a little perish his understanding. Surely Comineus
mought have made the same judgment also, if it had pleased him, of his second master, Lewis
the Eleventh, whose closeness was indeed his tormentor. The parable of Pythagoras is dark,
but true; Cor ne edito; Eat not the heart. Certainly if a man would give it a hard phrase,
those that want friends, to open themselves unto are cannibals of their own hearts. But one
thing is most admirable (wherewith I will conclude this first fruit of friendship), which
is, that this communicating of a man’s self to his friend, works two contrary effects; for
it redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves. For there is no man, that imparteth his
joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more; and no man that imparteth his griefs to his
friend, but he grieveth the less. So that it is in truth, of operation upon a man’s mind,
of like virtue as the alchemists use to attribute to their stone, for man’s body; that it
worketh all contrary effects, but still to the good and benefit of nature. But yet without
praying in aid of alchemists, there is a manifest image of this, in the ordinary course of
nature. For in bodies, union strengtheneth and cherisheth any natural action; and on the
other side, weakeneth and dulleth any violent impression: and even so it is of minds.
Hardy, namely, that he would communicate his secrets with none; and least of all, those
secrets which troubled him most. Whereupon he goeth on, and saith that towards his latter
time, that closeness did impair, and a little perish his understanding. Surely Comineus
mought have made the same judgment also, if it had pleased him, of his second master, Lewis
the Eleventh, whose closeness was indeed his tormentor. The parable of Pythagoras is dark,
but true; Cor ne edito; Eat not the heart. Certainly if a man would give it a hard phrase,
those that want friends, to open themselves unto are cannibals of their own hearts. But one
thing is most admirable (wherewith I will conclude this first fruit of friendship), which
is, that this communicating of a man’s self to his friend, works two contrary effects; for
it redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves. For there is no man, that imparteth his
joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more; and no man that imparteth his griefs to his
friend, but he grieveth the less. So that it is in truth, of operation upon a man’s mind,
of like virtue as the alchemists use to attribute to their stone, for man’s body; that it
worketh all contrary effects, but still to the good and benefit of nature. But yet without
praying in aid of alchemists, there is a manifest image of this, in the ordinary course of
nature. For in bodies, union strengtheneth and cherisheth any natural action; and on the
other side, weakeneth and dulleth any violent impression: and even so it is of minds.
Monday, December 8, 2008
scattered counsels
Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship complete, that other point, which lieth
more open, and falleth within vulgar observation; which is faithful counsel from a friend.
Heraclitus saith well in one of his enigmas, Dry light is ever the best. And certain it is,
that the light that a man receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and purer, than that
which cometh from his own understanding and judgment; which is ever infused, and drenched,
in his affections and customs. So as there is as much difference between the counsel, that a
friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend,
and of a flatterer. For there is no such flatterer as is a man’s self; and there is no such
remedy against flattery of a man’s self, as the liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two
sorts: the one concerning manners, the other concerning business. For the first, the best
preservative to keep the mind in health, is the faithful admonition of a friend. The calling
of a man’s self to a strict account, is a medicine, sometime too piercing and corrosive.
Reading good books of morality, is a little flat and dead. Observing our faults in others,
is sometimes improper for our case. But the best receipt (best, I say, to work, and best to
take) is the admonition of a friend. It is a strange thing to behold, what gross errors and
extreme absurdities many (especially of the greater sort) do commit, for want of a friend to
tell them of them; to the great damage both of their fame and fortune: for, as St. James
saith, they are as men that look sometimes into a glass, and presently forget their own
shape and favor. As for business, a man may think, if he will, that two eyes see no more
than one; or that a gamester seeth always more than a looker–on; or that a man in anger, is
as wise as he that hath said over the four and twenty letters; or that a musket may be shot
off as well upon the arm, as upon a rest; and such other fond and high imaginations, to
think himself all in all. But when all is done, the help of good counsel is that which
setteth business straight. And if any man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be
by pieces; asking counsel in one business, of one man, and in another business, of another
man; it is well (that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he asked none at all); but he
runneth two dangers: one, that he shall not be faithfully counselled; for it is a rare
thing, except it be from a perfect and entire friend, to have counsel given, but such as
shall be bowed and crooked to some ends, which he hath, that giveth it. The other, that he
shall have counsel given, hurtful and unsafe (though with good meaning), and mixed partly of
mischief and partly of remedy; even as if you would call a physician, that is thought good
for the cure of the disease you complain of, but is unacquainted with your body; and
therefore may put you in way for a present cure, but overthroweth your health in some other
kind; and so cure the disease, and kill the patient. But a friend that is wholly acquainted
with a man’s estate, will beware, by furthering any present business, how he dasheth upon
other inconvenience. And therefore rest not upon scattered counsels; they will rather
distract and mislead, than settle and direct.
more open, and falleth within vulgar observation; which is faithful counsel from a friend.
Heraclitus saith well in one of his enigmas, Dry light is ever the best. And certain it is,
that the light that a man receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and purer, than that
which cometh from his own understanding and judgment; which is ever infused, and drenched,
in his affections and customs. So as there is as much difference between the counsel, that a
friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend,
and of a flatterer. For there is no such flatterer as is a man’s self; and there is no such
remedy against flattery of a man’s self, as the liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two
sorts: the one concerning manners, the other concerning business. For the first, the best
preservative to keep the mind in health, is the faithful admonition of a friend. The calling
of a man’s self to a strict account, is a medicine, sometime too piercing and corrosive.
Reading good books of morality, is a little flat and dead. Observing our faults in others,
is sometimes improper for our case. But the best receipt (best, I say, to work, and best to
take) is the admonition of a friend. It is a strange thing to behold, what gross errors and
extreme absurdities many (especially of the greater sort) do commit, for want of a friend to
tell them of them; to the great damage both of their fame and fortune: for, as St. James
saith, they are as men that look sometimes into a glass, and presently forget their own
shape and favor. As for business, a man may think, if he will, that two eyes see no more
than one; or that a gamester seeth always more than a looker–on; or that a man in anger, is
as wise as he that hath said over the four and twenty letters; or that a musket may be shot
off as well upon the arm, as upon a rest; and such other fond and high imaginations, to
think himself all in all. But when all is done, the help of good counsel is that which
setteth business straight. And if any man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be
by pieces; asking counsel in one business, of one man, and in another business, of another
man; it is well (that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he asked none at all); but he
runneth two dangers: one, that he shall not be faithfully counselled; for it is a rare
thing, except it be from a perfect and entire friend, to have counsel given, but such as
shall be bowed and crooked to some ends, which he hath, that giveth it. The other, that he
shall have counsel given, hurtful and unsafe (though with good meaning), and mixed partly of
mischief and partly of remedy; even as if you would call a physician, that is thought good
for the cure of the disease you complain of, but is unacquainted with your body; and
therefore may put you in way for a present cure, but overthroweth your health in some other
kind; and so cure the disease, and kill the patient. But a friend that is wholly acquainted
with a man’s estate, will beware, by furthering any present business, how he dasheth upon
other inconvenience. And therefore rest not upon scattered counsels; they will rather
distract and mislead, than settle and direct.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
nameless translator
Here also let me digress. How do the poets do it? (I do not mean where do they get their power, as I was asking just now of Shakespeare, but how do the words, simple or complex, produce that effect?) Very often there is not any adjective, sometimes not any qualification at all: often only one subject with its predicate and its statement and its object. There is never any detail of description, but the scene rises, more vivid in colour, more exact in outline, more wonderful in influence, than anything we can see with our eyes, except perhaps those things we see in the few moments of intense emotion which come to us, we know not whence, and expand out into completion and into manhood.
Catullus does it. He does it so powerfully in the opening lines of
Vesper adest...
that a man reads the first couplet of that Hymeneal, and immediately perceives the Apennines.The nameless translator of the Highland song does it, especially when he advances that battering line -
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.
They all do it, bless their hearts, the poets, which leads me back again to the mournful reflection that it cannot be done in prose ...Little friends, my readers, I wish it could be done in prose, for if it could, and if I knew how to do it, I would here present to you that Unknown Country in such a fashion that every landscape which you should see henceforth would be transformed, by the appearing through it, the shining and uplifting through it, of the Unknown Country upon which reposes this tedious and repetitive world.
Catullus does it. He does it so powerfully in the opening lines of
Vesper adest...
that a man reads the first couplet of that Hymeneal, and immediately perceives the Apennines.The nameless translator of the Highland song does it, especially when he advances that battering line -
And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.
They all do it, bless their hearts, the poets, which leads me back again to the mournful reflection that it cannot be done in prose ...Little friends, my readers, I wish it could be done in prose, for if it could, and if I knew how to do it, I would here present to you that Unknown Country in such a fashion that every landscape which you should see henceforth would be transformed, by the appearing through it, the shining and uplifting through it, of the Unknown Country upon which reposes this tedious and repetitive world.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
difficult to say
Now you may say to be that prose can do it, and you may quote to me the end of the Pilgrim's Progress, a very remarkable piece of writing. Or, better still, as we shall be more agreed upon it, the general impression left upon the mind by the book which set me writing - Mr. Hudson's Crystal Age. I do not deny that prose can do it, but when it does it, it is hardly to be called prose, for it is inspired. Note carefully the passages in which the trick is worked in prose (for instance, in the story of Ruth in the Bible, where it is done with complete success), you still perceive an incantation and a spell. Indeed this same episode of Ruth in exile has inspired two splendid passages of European verse, of which it is difficult to say which is the more national, and therefore the greatest, Victor Hugo's in the Legende des Siecles or Keats's astounding four lines.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
nature and affections
It had been hard for him that spake it to have put more truth and untruth together in few words, than in that speech. Whatsoever is delighted in solitude, is either a wild beast or a god. For it is most true, that a natural and secret hatred, and aversation towards society, in any man, hath somewhat of the savage beast; but it is most untrue, that it should have any character at all, of the divine nature; except it proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but out of a love and desire to sequester a man’s self, for a higher conversation: such as is found to have been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathen; as Epimenides the Candian, Numa the Roman, Empedocles the Sicilian, and Apollonius of Tyana; and truly and really, in divers of the ancient hermits and holy fathers of the church. But little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love. The Latin adage meeteth with it a little: Magna civitas, magna solitudo; because in a great town friends are scattered; so that there is not that fellowship, for the most part, which is in less neighborhoods. But we may go further, and affirm most truly, that it is a mere and miserable solitude to want true friends; without which the world is but a wilderness; and even in this sense also of solitude, whosoever in the frame of his nature and affections, is unfit for friendship, he taketh it of the beast, and not from humanity.
A principal fruit of friendship, is the ease and discharge of the fulness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings, and suffocations, are the most dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind; you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flowers of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt openeth the heart, but a true friend; to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession.
A principal fruit of friendship, is the ease and discharge of the fulness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings, and suffocations, are the most dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind; you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flowers of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt openeth the heart, but a true friend; to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Patrick"s voice
"I was wondering if Patrick would sing a verse of "Away in a Manger" during the service on Christmas Eve," the church youth director asked in a message left on our answering machine.
My wife, Catherine, and I struggled to contain our excitement. Our son"s first solo.
Catherine delicately broached the possibility, reminding Patrick how beautifully he sang, telling him how much fun it would be. Patrick himself seemed less convinced and frowned. "You know, Mom," he said, "sometimes when I have to do something important, I get kind of scared."
Grownups feel that way too, he was assured, but the decision was left to him. His deliberations took only a few minutes.
"Okay," Patrick said. "I"ll do it."
From the time he was an infant, Patrick has enjoyed an unusual passion for music. By age four he could pound out several bars of Wagner"s Ride of the Valkyries on the piano.
For the next week Patrick practiced his stanza several times with his mother. A rehearsal at the church went well. Still, I could only envision myself at age five, singing into a microphone before hundreds of people. When Christmas Eve arrived, my expectations were limited.
Catherine, our daughter Melanie and I sat with the conGREgation in darkness as a spotlight found my son, standing alone at the microphone. He was dressed in white, with a pair of angel wings.
Slowly, confidently, Patrick hit every note. As his voice washed over the people, he seemed a true angel, a true bestower of Christmas miracles.
There was eternity in Patrick"s voice that night, a beauty rich enough to penetrate any reserve. At the sound of my son, heavy tears welled at the corners of my eyes.
His song was soon over, and the conGREgation applauded. Catherine brushed away tears. Melanie sobbed next to me.
After the service, I moved to congratulate Patrick, but he had more urgent priorities. "Mom," he said as his costume was stripped away, "I have to go to the bathroom."
As Patrick disappeared, the pastor wished me a Merry Christmas, but emotion choked off my reply. Outside the sanctuary I received congratulations from fellow church members.
My wife, Catherine, and I struggled to contain our excitement. Our son"s first solo.
Catherine delicately broached the possibility, reminding Patrick how beautifully he sang, telling him how much fun it would be. Patrick himself seemed less convinced and frowned. "You know, Mom," he said, "sometimes when I have to do something important, I get kind of scared."
Grownups feel that way too, he was assured, but the decision was left to him. His deliberations took only a few minutes.
"Okay," Patrick said. "I"ll do it."
From the time he was an infant, Patrick has enjoyed an unusual passion for music. By age four he could pound out several bars of Wagner"s Ride of the Valkyries on the piano.
For the next week Patrick practiced his stanza several times with his mother. A rehearsal at the church went well. Still, I could only envision myself at age five, singing into a microphone before hundreds of people. When Christmas Eve arrived, my expectations were limited.
Catherine, our daughter Melanie and I sat with the conGREgation in darkness as a spotlight found my son, standing alone at the microphone. He was dressed in white, with a pair of angel wings.
Slowly, confidently, Patrick hit every note. As his voice washed over the people, he seemed a true angel, a true bestower of Christmas miracles.
There was eternity in Patrick"s voice that night, a beauty rich enough to penetrate any reserve. At the sound of my son, heavy tears welled at the corners of my eyes.
His song was soon over, and the conGREgation applauded. Catherine brushed away tears. Melanie sobbed next to me.
After the service, I moved to congratulate Patrick, but he had more urgent priorities. "Mom," he said as his costume was stripped away, "I have to go to the bathroom."
As Patrick disappeared, the pastor wished me a Merry Christmas, but emotion choked off my reply. Outside the sanctuary I received congratulations from fellow church members.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Away in a Manger
One afternoon about a week before Christmas, my family of four piled into our minivan to run an errand, and this question came from a small voice in the back seat: "Dad," began my five-year-old son, Patrick, "how come I"ve never seen you cry?"
Just like that. No preamble. No warning. Surprised, I mumbled something about crying when he wasn"t around, but I knew that Patrick had put his young finger on the largest obstacle to my own peace and contentment -- the dragon-filled moat separating me from the fullest human expression of joy, sadness and anger. Simply put, I could not cry.
I am scarcely the only man for whom this is true. We men have been conditioned to believe that stoicism is the embodiment of strength. We have traveled through life with stiff upper lips, secretly dying within.
For most of my adult life I have battled depression. Doctors have said much of my problem is physiological, and they have treated it with medication. But I know that my illness is also attributable to years of swallowing rage, sadness, even joy.
Strange as it seems, in this world where macho is everything, drunkenness and depression are safer ways for men to deal with feelings than tears. I could only hope the same debilitating handicap would not be passed to the next generation.
So the following day when Patrick and I were in the van after playing at a park, I thanked him for his curiosity. Tears are a good thing, I told him, for boys and girls alike. Crying is God"s way of healing people when they"re sad. "I"m glad you can cry whenever you"re sad," I said. "Sometimes daddies have a harder time showing how they feel. Someday I hope to do better."
Patrick nodded. In truth, I held out little hope. But in the days before Christmas I prayed that somehow I could connect with the dusty core of my own emotions.
Just like that. No preamble. No warning. Surprised, I mumbled something about crying when he wasn"t around, but I knew that Patrick had put his young finger on the largest obstacle to my own peace and contentment -- the dragon-filled moat separating me from the fullest human expression of joy, sadness and anger. Simply put, I could not cry.
I am scarcely the only man for whom this is true. We men have been conditioned to believe that stoicism is the embodiment of strength. We have traveled through life with stiff upper lips, secretly dying within.
For most of my adult life I have battled depression. Doctors have said much of my problem is physiological, and they have treated it with medication. But I know that my illness is also attributable to years of swallowing rage, sadness, even joy.
Strange as it seems, in this world where macho is everything, drunkenness and depression are safer ways for men to deal with feelings than tears. I could only hope the same debilitating handicap would not be passed to the next generation.
So the following day when Patrick and I were in the van after playing at a park, I thanked him for his curiosity. Tears are a good thing, I told him, for boys and girls alike. Crying is God"s way of healing people when they"re sad. "I"m glad you can cry whenever you"re sad," I said. "Sometimes daddies have a harder time showing how they feel. Someday I hope to do better."
Patrick nodded. In truth, I held out little hope. But in the days before Christmas I prayed that somehow I could connect with the dusty core of my own emotions.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
honest with yourself
Be honest with yourself by paying attention to your actions. Actions speak louder than words, and they always tell the truth. What do your actions say about you? If you say you love your job, but your actions say otherwise, which do you think is more true - your words or your actions? On the other hand, if you say you're not good at a certain job, but your actions say otherwise, that's also important. What do you do with this insight? You can use it to make more beneficial choices in your life. By being honest with yourself based on your previous actions, your actions moving forward will be based on truth instead of just what you tell yourself.
Take time out during the day for quiet time to listen to your inner voice. I call this inner voice the voice of God. This is similar to point number one, but it takes it a step further - beyond the natural mind to the supernatural heart. You may want to use your quiet time to meditate or pray. However you use this time, the key is to shut out all of the noise around you by focusing deep within yourself. Breathing deeply during quiet time will also help you focus. I know it's hard to find quiet time during a particularly busy day, but it's so important - even if it's just 10 minutes a day and you have to sneak away to get it. Quiet time can really make a difference in your life. It enables you to hear God speaking to your heart reminding you of His perfect love for you.
Despite what your subconscious may be telling you, you can have love with no limits. The key is to unconditionally love yourself first.
Take time out during the day for quiet time to listen to your inner voice. I call this inner voice the voice of God. This is similar to point number one, but it takes it a step further - beyond the natural mind to the supernatural heart. You may want to use your quiet time to meditate or pray. However you use this time, the key is to shut out all of the noise around you by focusing deep within yourself. Breathing deeply during quiet time will also help you focus. I know it's hard to find quiet time during a particularly busy day, but it's so important - even if it's just 10 minutes a day and you have to sneak away to get it. Quiet time can really make a difference in your life. It enables you to hear God speaking to your heart reminding you of His perfect love for you.
Despite what your subconscious may be telling you, you can have love with no limits. The key is to unconditionally love yourself first.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Does Love Exist
Most of us long for relationships in which we are loved and accepted just the way we are. Our hearts' desire is to give and receive love in relationships that make us feel that even if others disaGREe with what we do or say, they still love us. They accept us. They appreciate our contributions to the world. While it would be wonder
ful to have these types of relationships with all people, we know that that's hard to do. We can, however, have them with some others, but only when we first have them with ourselves-and, ironically, this is often the hardest relationship of all.
One of the reasons many of us find it hard to love ourselves is because we do not realize that we are already loved in the most divine way. God loves us, totally and unconditionally.
It's hard for many of us to believe this fact because we know how imperfect we are, and we believe we have to be perfect before God will love us. The truth is that God's love makes us perfect, even with our imperfections. By knowing this truth intellectually and believing it spiritually, we not only love ourselves more; we love others more as well.
Do you love yourself? You may think you do, but do you really? There's only one way to find out-by taking a closer look at what you think, say, and do. You may not like some of what you find, but if you're serious about really loving yourself, you can use this insight to do some positive inner work.
Here are three ways I've found for gaining GREater personal insight for deeper love.
Listen to your words and listen even more closely to your thoughts. Why? Because your words and your thoughts will determine your actions. One of the things that has helped me to listen to my thoughts has been to keep a journal. It is not necessary for you to write in it everyday, but it helps to record various insights you gain as you go about living your life. Instead of using a big notebook, you might use a small note pad that you can keep in your purse or pocket for easy access to record your thoughts as they occur to you. (I've found that if I don't immediately write down ideas and insights as they come, it's hard to remember them later, at least with the same deGREe of clarity.) Whichever method you choose, what's most important is that you write your thoughts down. It will help you know what's in your heart.
ful to have these types of relationships with all people, we know that that's hard to do. We can, however, have them with some others, but only when we first have them with ourselves-and, ironically, this is often the hardest relationship of all.
One of the reasons many of us find it hard to love ourselves is because we do not realize that we are already loved in the most divine way. God loves us, totally and unconditionally.
It's hard for many of us to believe this fact because we know how imperfect we are, and we believe we have to be perfect before God will love us. The truth is that God's love makes us perfect, even with our imperfections. By knowing this truth intellectually and believing it spiritually, we not only love ourselves more; we love others more as well.
Do you love yourself? You may think you do, but do you really? There's only one way to find out-by taking a closer look at what you think, say, and do. You may not like some of what you find, but if you're serious about really loving yourself, you can use this insight to do some positive inner work.
Here are three ways I've found for gaining GREater personal insight for deeper love.
Listen to your words and listen even more closely to your thoughts. Why? Because your words and your thoughts will determine your actions. One of the things that has helped me to listen to my thoughts has been to keep a journal. It is not necessary for you to write in it everyday, but it helps to record various insights you gain as you go about living your life. Instead of using a big notebook, you might use a small note pad that you can keep in your purse or pocket for easy access to record your thoughts as they occur to you. (I've found that if I don't immediately write down ideas and insights as they come, it's hard to remember them later, at least with the same deGREe of clarity.) Whichever method you choose, what's most important is that you write your thoughts down. It will help you know what's in your heart.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
To Beth’s First-Grade Teacher
I didn't know the man in front of me that morning. But I did notice that we both walked a little straighter, a little more proudly, as our daughters held our hands. We were proud but apprehensive on that important day. Our girls were beginning first grade. We were about to give them up, for a while at least, to the institution we call school. As we entered the building, he looked at me. Our eyes met just for a minute, but that was enough. Our love for our daughters, our hopes for their future, our concern for their well-being welled up in our eyes.
You, their teacher, met us at the door. You introduced yourself and showed the girls to their seats. We gave them each a good-bye kiss, and then we walked out the door. We didn't talk to each other on the way back to the parking lot and on to our respective jobs. We were too involved thinking about you.
There were so many things we wanted to tell you, Teacher. Too many things were left unsaid. So I'm writing to you. I'd like to tell you the things we didn't have time for that first morning.
I hope you noticed Beth's dress. She looked beautiful in it. Now I know you might think that's a father's prejudice, but she thinks she looks beautiful in it, and that's what's really important. Did you know we spent a full week searching the shopping malls for just the right dress for that special occasion? She wouldn't show you, but I'm sure she'd like you to know that she picked that dress because of the way it unfurled as she danced in front of the mirrors in the clothing store. The minute she tried it on, she knew she'd found her special dress. I wonder if you noticed. Just a word from you would make that dress all the more wondrous.
Her shoes tell a lot about Beth and a lot about her family. At least they're worth a minute of your time. Yes, they're blue shoes with one strap. Solid, well-made shoes, not too stylish, you know the kind. What you don't know is how we argued about getting the kind of shoes she said all the girls would be wearing. We said no to plastic shoes in purple or pink or orange.
Beth was worried that the other kids would laugh at her baby shoes. In the end she tried the solid blue ones on and, with a smile, told us she always did like strap shoes. That's the first-born, eager to please. She's like the shoes
You, their teacher, met us at the door. You introduced yourself and showed the girls to their seats. We gave them each a good-bye kiss, and then we walked out the door. We didn't talk to each other on the way back to the parking lot and on to our respective jobs. We were too involved thinking about you.
There were so many things we wanted to tell you, Teacher. Too many things were left unsaid. So I'm writing to you. I'd like to tell you the things we didn't have time for that first morning.
I hope you noticed Beth's dress. She looked beautiful in it. Now I know you might think that's a father's prejudice, but she thinks she looks beautiful in it, and that's what's really important. Did you know we spent a full week searching the shopping malls for just the right dress for that special occasion? She wouldn't show you, but I'm sure she'd like you to know that she picked that dress because of the way it unfurled as she danced in front of the mirrors in the clothing store. The minute she tried it on, she knew she'd found her special dress. I wonder if you noticed. Just a word from you would make that dress all the more wondrous.
Her shoes tell a lot about Beth and a lot about her family. At least they're worth a minute of your time. Yes, they're blue shoes with one strap. Solid, well-made shoes, not too stylish, you know the kind. What you don't know is how we argued about getting the kind of shoes she said all the girls would be wearing. We said no to plastic shoes in purple or pink or orange.
Beth was worried that the other kids would laugh at her baby shoes. In the end she tried the solid blue ones on and, with a smile, told us she always did like strap shoes. That's the first-born, eager to please. She's like the shoes
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
my face
Turning from the bed I felt compelled to search my dresser. Rummaging through drawer after
drawer proved futile, until finally, in the last drawer, clear in the back I felt it. It was
a small, white box with my name scribbled on top in a child"s handwriting. Prying it open, I
was instantly transported back in time.
Conan had been about ten years old, and it was the night before going on vacation to
Florida. He was going with us, and I was packing in my room when I heard a knock on my door.
Conan stood there, his eyes downcast and his hands behind his back.
"What is it, son?" I asked, concerned by this unexpected visit.
Shuffling his feet, he quickly mumbled, "I don"t know why I don"t call you "Mom" very often,
even though I call my stepdad "Dad.""
I hugged him and reassured him he was free to call me whatever he was comfortable with. Then
suddenly, with a wry smile on his pudgy face, he handed me the small, white box.
"You choose," he said, and darted from the room.
Assuming I"d find two items inside the box, I opened it. Instead, I found the single gold
wheat pin he"d bought at a garage sale with his own money.
Scribbled inside the lid of the box were the words, "I Love You. To Mom or Connie."
That had been almost a decade ago, yet as I pushed the spilled contents of my jewelry box
aside and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, it felt like yesterday.
Thank you, God, for finding this pin, and for the closure that comes with it.
Wiping the tears from my face, I reflected on an angelic little boy whose heart beat close
to mine.
I still choose "Mom."
drawer proved futile, until finally, in the last drawer, clear in the back I felt it. It was
a small, white box with my name scribbled on top in a child"s handwriting. Prying it open, I
was instantly transported back in time.
Conan had been about ten years old, and it was the night before going on vacation to
Florida. He was going with us, and I was packing in my room when I heard a knock on my door.
Conan stood there, his eyes downcast and his hands behind his back.
"What is it, son?" I asked, concerned by this unexpected visit.
Shuffling his feet, he quickly mumbled, "I don"t know why I don"t call you "Mom" very often,
even though I call my stepdad "Dad.""
I hugged him and reassured him he was free to call me whatever he was comfortable with. Then
suddenly, with a wry smile on his pudgy face, he handed me the small, white box.
"You choose," he said, and darted from the room.
Assuming I"d find two items inside the box, I opened it. Instead, I found the single gold
wheat pin he"d bought at a garage sale with his own money.
Scribbled inside the lid of the box were the words, "I Love You. To Mom or Connie."
That had been almost a decade ago, yet as I pushed the spilled contents of my jewelry box
aside and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, it felt like yesterday.
Thank you, God, for finding this pin, and for the closure that comes with it.
Wiping the tears from my face, I reflected on an angelic little boy whose heart beat close
to mine.
I still choose "Mom."
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
the missing link
Arriving at the gravesite, I remembered Chuck mentioning that the permanent headstone had
recently arrived. Chuck had told Conan"s mom to select what she wanted. As I looked down on
the shiny marble surface, I noticed she had chosen a bronze sports emblem, along with a
picture of Conan that had been permanently embedded under a thick layer of glass.
I bent down and lovingly ran my fingers over his engraved name and the dates commemorating
his short life. Through a mist of tears, memories of a rambunctious, fun-loving little boy
filled my heart. The child I"d mothered part-time for so many years may not have come
through my body, but I had been chosen by God to provide a maternal influence in his life.
Not to take his mother"s place, but to be just a "step" away. I suddenly felt very honored
to have been chosen.
"It was a privilege to be your stepmother," I whispered out loud, bending to kiss his
picture.
Finally, a sense of peace was beginning. With a heavy sigh, I got up to leave. But as I
turned to walk away, the sun glistened on the border of the headstone, causing me to look
back.
"Oh my gosh! How could I have not noticed it before?"
The entire border of the headstone was trimmed in gold shafts of wheat . . . exactly like a
gold shaft-of-wheat pin Conan had given me years ago. Chills ran up and down my spine. I
hadn"t seen that pin in years.
Somehow, I just knew it was the missing link. I had to find that pin.
The ride home was a blur. I was so excited. Finally, I was upstairs in my bedroom tearing
apart my jewelry box. Where was it? Dumping the contents on the bed, I frantically tossed
earrings and pins to and fro.
Nothing.
God, this is important. Please help me find it, I prayed.
recently arrived. Chuck had told Conan"s mom to select what she wanted. As I looked down on
the shiny marble surface, I noticed she had chosen a bronze sports emblem, along with a
picture of Conan that had been permanently embedded under a thick layer of glass.
I bent down and lovingly ran my fingers over his engraved name and the dates commemorating
his short life. Through a mist of tears, memories of a rambunctious, fun-loving little boy
filled my heart. The child I"d mothered part-time for so many years may not have come
through my body, but I had been chosen by God to provide a maternal influence in his life.
Not to take his mother"s place, but to be just a "step" away. I suddenly felt very honored
to have been chosen.
"It was a privilege to be your stepmother," I whispered out loud, bending to kiss his
picture.
Finally, a sense of peace was beginning. With a heavy sigh, I got up to leave. But as I
turned to walk away, the sun glistened on the border of the headstone, causing me to look
back.
"Oh my gosh! How could I have not noticed it before?"
The entire border of the headstone was trimmed in gold shafts of wheat . . . exactly like a
gold shaft-of-wheat pin Conan had given me years ago. Chills ran up and down my spine. I
hadn"t seen that pin in years.
Somehow, I just knew it was the missing link. I had to find that pin.
The ride home was a blur. I was so excited. Finally, I was upstairs in my bedroom tearing
apart my jewelry box. Where was it? Dumping the contents on the bed, I frantically tossed
earrings and pins to and fro.
Nothing.
God, this is important. Please help me find it, I prayed.
Monday, November 24, 2008
comforting journal excerpts
But in his grief immediately upon Conan"s death, Chuck suddenly stopped seeking my opinion
and began turning to his ex-wife. I knew they had to make many final decisions together, and
I realized later that he was trying to spare me from the gruesome details, but for the first
time, I began to feel like an outsider instead of a parent.
I also knew the driver responsible for the accident had to be prosecuted, which meant Chuck
and his ex-wife would have to stay in contact. Those ugly jealousies from the past began to
resurface when, night after night, he talked to her, seldom discussing their conversations
with me.
And it stung when friends inquired only about Chuck"s coping, or sent sympathy cards
addressed just to him, forgetting about me and even our two children. Some belittled my
grieving because I was "just" a stepparent. Did anyone realize my loss and pain? I"d had
strong maternal feelings for Conan; he considered me his second mother - or did he? As the
weeks turned into months, that question haunted me, dominating my thoughts. I became driven
to understand just what my role had been.
I rummaged through boxes of photos and dug out old journals, searching the house for
mementos, even Christmas ornaments he had made.
There were several comforting journal excerpts, one describing Mother"s Day phone calls from
Conan to me, and a beautiful white poinsettia he gave me at Christmas. And I cherished the
memories old photos brought back - his loving bear hugs after cooking his favorite meal - or
a kiss for simply doing his laundry. As comforting as these things were, they still weren"t
enough.
One beautiful spring day, almost a year after he died, I was lovingly caressing the pressed
rose from his grave that I kept in my Bible. Suddenly, I felt compelled to visit his grave
alone. I had never done that before, but I desperately needed some answers.
and began turning to his ex-wife. I knew they had to make many final decisions together, and
I realized later that he was trying to spare me from the gruesome details, but for the first
time, I began to feel like an outsider instead of a parent.
I also knew the driver responsible for the accident had to be prosecuted, which meant Chuck
and his ex-wife would have to stay in contact. Those ugly jealousies from the past began to
resurface when, night after night, he talked to her, seldom discussing their conversations
with me.
And it stung when friends inquired only about Chuck"s coping, or sent sympathy cards
addressed just to him, forgetting about me and even our two children. Some belittled my
grieving because I was "just" a stepparent. Did anyone realize my loss and pain? I"d had
strong maternal feelings for Conan; he considered me his second mother - or did he? As the
weeks turned into months, that question haunted me, dominating my thoughts. I became driven
to understand just what my role had been.
I rummaged through boxes of photos and dug out old journals, searching the house for
mementos, even Christmas ornaments he had made.
There were several comforting journal excerpts, one describing Mother"s Day phone calls from
Conan to me, and a beautiful white poinsettia he gave me at Christmas. And I cherished the
memories old photos brought back - his loving bear hugs after cooking his favorite meal - or
a kiss for simply doing his laundry. As comforting as these things were, they still weren"t
enough.
One beautiful spring day, almost a year after he died, I was lovingly caressing the pressed
rose from his grave that I kept in my Bible. Suddenly, I felt compelled to visit his grave
alone. I had never done that before, but I desperately needed some answers.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
kids and stepkids
I loved being both a mom and a stepmother, but as in any blended family, it had its ups and downs. Chuck"s ex-wife had custody of his kids and gave them more freedom than we gave our children. Needing to be consistent with our rules, I"m certain we appeared overly strict to his kids. On their weekend visitations, I usually felt like an old nag.
As a second wife, I was jealous of my stepchildren"s mother. I complained about her and her husband within earshot of my stepkids, and even grumbled about buying my stepchildren extras on top of paying child support. Somehow I overlooked the important fact that my stepchildren were the innocent ones thrust into a blended family.
Then one day at a gathering of my own family, I watched as my mother went up to my stepmother and gave her a hug. I turned and saw my father and stepfather laughing together. Having always appreciated the cooperative relationship my parents and stepparents had, it occurred to me that Chuck"s children longed for the same. So Chuck and I decided to work hard at bridging gaps instead of creating them.
It wasn"t easy, and changes didn"t come overnight, but they did come. By the time Conan was fifteen, a peace had settled between parents and stepparents. Instead of griping about child-support payments, we voluntarily increased them. And finally Conan"s mom gave us copies of his report cards and football schedules.
I was proud of my kids and stepkids. After graduation, my stepdaughter married, and she and her husband built a house together. At seventeen, Conan had become a sensible, intelligent young man. With rugged good looks and a deep, baritone voice, I wondered what fortunate girl would snatch him up.
But then came that phone call, changing our lives forever - Conan was killed instantly by a drunk driver.
Over the years we"d been married, Chuck had reassured me that I was a parent to his children, too. He sought my opinion in matters concerning them and relied on me to make their Christmases and birthdays special. I enjoyed doing those things and looked upon myself as their second mother.
As a second wife, I was jealous of my stepchildren"s mother. I complained about her and her husband within earshot of my stepkids, and even grumbled about buying my stepchildren extras on top of paying child support. Somehow I overlooked the important fact that my stepchildren were the innocent ones thrust into a blended family.
Then one day at a gathering of my own family, I watched as my mother went up to my stepmother and gave her a hug. I turned and saw my father and stepfather laughing together. Having always appreciated the cooperative relationship my parents and stepparents had, it occurred to me that Chuck"s children longed for the same. So Chuck and I decided to work hard at bridging gaps instead of creating them.
It wasn"t easy, and changes didn"t come overnight, but they did come. By the time Conan was fifteen, a peace had settled between parents and stepparents. Instead of griping about child-support payments, we voluntarily increased them. And finally Conan"s mom gave us copies of his report cards and football schedules.
I was proud of my kids and stepkids. After graduation, my stepdaughter married, and she and her husband built a house together. At seventeen, Conan had become a sensible, intelligent young man. With rugged good looks and a deep, baritone voice, I wondered what fortunate girl would snatch him up.
But then came that phone call, changing our lives forever - Conan was killed instantly by a drunk driver.
Over the years we"d been married, Chuck had reassured me that I was a parent to his children, too. He sought my opinion in matters concerning them and relied on me to make their Christmases and birthdays special. I enjoyed doing those things and looked upon myself as their second mother.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
I Still Choose "Mom"
I watched through blurred vision as my husband, Chuck, walked away with his ex-wife.
The heaviness in all our hearts was almost unbearable. Turning back to my stepson"s casket I somehow helped my children pluck a rose from the brother spray to press in their Bibles. With tears streaming down my face, I rested my hand on the son spray. I no longer knew my place.
God, I silently screamed, how did I fit in Conan"s life?
From the moment I"d met my stepson, I was in awe of this angelic little boy whose bright, blond hair seemed to glow with a heavenly radiance. At only a year-and-a-half, he was built like a three-year-old. Solid and stocky, sleeping curled in my lap, his tiny heart beat against mine, and a maternal bonding began stirring inside me.
Within a year I became a stepmother to Conan and his older sister, Lori. Soon after that, a visit to the doctor revealed some disheartening news.
"You have an infertility disease," the doctor had said. "You might not ever have children of your own."
At twenty-two, that news was shattering. I had
always wanted to be a mother. Suddenly, I realized being a stepmother might be as close as I would get, and I became even more involved in their lives.
But thankfully, four years later we joyfully discovered I was pregnant. Chase was born, then two years later we were blessed with our daughter, Chelsea.
The heaviness in all our hearts was almost unbearable. Turning back to my stepson"s casket I somehow helped my children pluck a rose from the brother spray to press in their Bibles. With tears streaming down my face, I rested my hand on the son spray. I no longer knew my place.
God, I silently screamed, how did I fit in Conan"s life?
From the moment I"d met my stepson, I was in awe of this angelic little boy whose bright, blond hair seemed to glow with a heavenly radiance. At only a year-and-a-half, he was built like a three-year-old. Solid and stocky, sleeping curled in my lap, his tiny heart beat against mine, and a maternal bonding began stirring inside me.
Within a year I became a stepmother to Conan and his older sister, Lori. Soon after that, a visit to the doctor revealed some disheartening news.
"You have an infertility disease," the doctor had said. "You might not ever have children of your own."
At twenty-two, that news was shattering. I had
always wanted to be a mother. Suddenly, I realized being a stepmother might be as close as I would get, and I became even more involved in their lives.
But thankfully, four years later we joyfully discovered I was pregnant. Chase was born, then two years later we were blessed with our daughter, Chelsea.
Friday, November 21, 2008
The Fastest Rabbit
One day a mother rabbit was having a baby rabbit.
The other rabbits were very fast and could jump very high. When the little rabbit was 4 months old, it started to talk.
The very first thing he said was "I want to jump very very high".
After a few years when the little rabbit could say anything he wanted to say, he started to pray to God at night.
He would always pray that he wanted to jump very very high and run very, very fast.
Well one day he started a race with one of the other rabbits. The other rabbit was in first place,then he got in first place, then the other rabbit got in first place until he got in first place.
He tripped and fell down. He looked up and he saw a fire-breathing dragon. The dragon told him that he could win this race if he really tried.
Then the rabbit got up and tried his hardest.
Finally he caught up to the other rabbit. Then he passed the finish line.
And he won the race
The other rabbits were very fast and could jump very high. When the little rabbit was 4 months old, it started to talk.
The very first thing he said was "I want to jump very very high".
After a few years when the little rabbit could say anything he wanted to say, he started to pray to God at night.
He would always pray that he wanted to jump very very high and run very, very fast.
Well one day he started a race with one of the other rabbits. The other rabbit was in first place,then he got in first place, then the other rabbit got in first place until he got in first place.
He tripped and fell down. He looked up and he saw a fire-breathing dragon. The dragon told him that he could win this race if he really tried.
Then the rabbit got up and tried his hardest.
Finally he caught up to the other rabbit. Then he passed the finish line.
And he won the race
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Early Shopper
It was Christmas and the judge was in a benevolent mood as he questioned the prisoner. "What are you charged with?" he asked.
"Doing my Christmas shopping early," replied the defendant.
"That's no offense," replied the judge, "How early were you doing this shopping?"
"Before the store opened," countered the prisoner.
"Doing my Christmas shopping early," replied the defendant.
"That's no offense," replied the judge, "How early were you doing this shopping?"
"Before the store opened," countered the prisoner.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Lucy looked at her mother
One evening, she was giving her small daughter her tea before putting her to bed. First she gave her a slice of fresh brown bread and butter, but the child said that she did not want it like that. She asked for some jam on her bread as well.
Her mother looked at her for a few seconds and then said, "When I was a small girl like you, Lucy, I was always given either bread and butter, or bread and jam, but never bread with butter and jam.
Lucy looked at her mother for a few moments with pity in her eyes and then said to her kindly, "Aren't you pleased that you've come to live with us now?"
Her mother looked at her for a few seconds and then said, "When I was a small girl like you, Lucy, I was always given either bread and butter, or bread and jam, but never bread with butter and jam.
Lucy looked at her mother for a few moments with pity in her eyes and then said to her kindly, "Aren't you pleased that you've come to live with us now?"
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
No Hoes
A thirteen-year-old boy was sitting on the sofa watching TV when the phone rang
“Hello, my son.” it was his father’s voice, “where is your mother?”
“Mother is working in the garden.”
“What?” barked the father, “Your mother is not as young and strong as she used to be. Why aren’t you helping her?”
“I can't.” was the reply. “Grandma is using the other hoe.”
Is there a crib in your stomach?
When my sister-in-low Leach was expecting her second child, her son Brain would sometimes touch his mother’s tummy to feel the baby move. One day, while touching her stomach and not feel anything, he asked, “How come the baby isn’t moving?”
“The baby is sleeping.” replied his mother.
Brain thought a moment and then said, “You mean you got a crib in there too?”
Saving a Dollar
Johnny: Papa, would you be glad if I saved a dollar for you?
Papa: Naturally, my son.
Johnny: Well, I have saved one dollar for you. You said that if I brought a good mark this week, you would give me a dollar and I haven’t brought one.
“Hello, my son.” it was his father’s voice, “where is your mother?”
“Mother is working in the garden.”
“What?” barked the father, “Your mother is not as young and strong as she used to be. Why aren’t you helping her?”
“I can't.” was the reply. “Grandma is using the other hoe.”
Is there a crib in your stomach?
When my sister-in-low Leach was expecting her second child, her son Brain would sometimes touch his mother’s tummy to feel the baby move. One day, while touching her stomach and not feel anything, he asked, “How come the baby isn’t moving?”
“The baby is sleeping.” replied his mother.
Brain thought a moment and then said, “You mean you got a crib in there too?”
Saving a Dollar
Johnny: Papa, would you be glad if I saved a dollar for you?
Papa: Naturally, my son.
Johnny: Well, I have saved one dollar for you. You said that if I brought a good mark this week, you would give me a dollar and I haven’t brought one.
Monday, November 17, 2008
my husband
Having been married a long time, my husband sometimes needs a gentle reminder of a special occasion. On the morning of our 35th anniversary, we were sitting at the breakfast table when I hinted, "Honey, do you realize that we've been sitting in these same two seats for exactly 35 years?"
Putting down the newspaper, he looked straight at me and said, "So, you want to switch seats?"
Putting down the newspaper, he looked straight at me and said, "So, you want to switch seats?"
Sunday, November 16, 2008
A Way for Business People to Learn Chinese
BEIJING – Chinese language teachers in Beijing don’t need to apply for work visas to teach in the United States anymore. From an office in west Beijing they can teach their mother tongue through the Internet language school eChineseLearning to Americans and students in 41 other countries.
Born in Beijing, Fred Rao, founder and CEO of chinese-online, speaks passionately about his teaching adventure and mission: to cover every corner of the world with the Chinese language.
After graduating from Stanford University with a master’s in business administration, Rao launched his Internet language school in Beijing in the spring of 2006, with venture capital from the United States. He said his dream took root in his heart long ago, when he lived with his teacher parents. He started his first weekend Chinese language school in the San Francisco Bay Area while still a student at Stanford.
In the fall of 2006, the U.S. College Board's Advanced Placement Program, which prepares high school students for college-level courses, added the Chinese language and culture class into its curriculum. It brought the Chinese language to the attention of many American high schools, students and their parents.
“As we don’t have enough Chinese teachers in my school, we use chinese-online’s service to provide online tutoring service for our students,” said Mary Hagen, who teaches at a high school in Palo Alto, Calif. “Its service is supplementary to our teaching at the school.”
Thousands of high schools across the United States started offering Chinese courses last year, which Rao sees as opening the door to a huge market to his Internet Chinese language school. Since then, chinese-online has landed an increasing number of individuals, as well as school groups, to learn from more than 40 teachers working in China’s capital. Students and teachers sit in a virtual classroom using the free service of Skype, said Rao.
Rao’s Internet language school would have been a mission impossible only a few years ago, when the technologies needed were rare and expensive. But now, empowered by Skype, Google Talk and MSN, with audio, video and multimedia materials on its website, more than 400 students between four and 72 years old have been studying in virtual classrooms. Rao plans to attract students from at least 100 countries next year.
But it is China’s economic engine that is the most powerful force bringing students to learn Chinese. People from all over the world believe that knowing the delicate tonal language is surely a tool to grab a sizeable share of that market.
Jeff Ryan from New York City said one key reason his company chose to train employees in virtual Chinese language classrooms on a regular basis was “that they (eChineseLearning) can customize lessons to meet our employee’s need and schedule.”
“The price is unbelievably cheap – a small fraction for what you would ordinarily have to pay in the United States for such high quality one-on-one tutoring,” said Anthony Zaloom, adjunct professor of law, business and economy, who teaches at Univ. of California, Berkeley School of Law.
The price is a big draw for individual and group students. eChineseLearning charges students nine U.S. dollars per hour, less than half of the market price for the prevalent tutoring rate of $20 to $30 in the San Francisco Bay Area or in New York. If bought in bulk class hours, students get an hour for seven dollars. From time to time, the online language school offers promotions. Its five dollars per hour price lures new students.
Having been an eChineseLearning student since shortly after the school got started, Zaloom has worked in law firms in China and Japan for more than three decades.
The course is tailored to each student’s need. Rao now offers an advanced-level course, with the student reading and discussing with his or her Chinese teacher the most famous, ancient Chinese novel “Dream of the Red Chamber.”
Born in Beijing, Fred Rao, founder and CEO of chinese-online, speaks passionately about his teaching adventure and mission: to cover every corner of the world with the Chinese language.
After graduating from Stanford University with a master’s in business administration, Rao launched his Internet language school in Beijing in the spring of 2006, with venture capital from the United States. He said his dream took root in his heart long ago, when he lived with his teacher parents. He started his first weekend Chinese language school in the San Francisco Bay Area while still a student at Stanford.
In the fall of 2006, the U.S. College Board's Advanced Placement Program, which prepares high school students for college-level courses, added the Chinese language and culture class into its curriculum. It brought the Chinese language to the attention of many American high schools, students and their parents.
“As we don’t have enough Chinese teachers in my school, we use chinese-online’s service to provide online tutoring service for our students,” said Mary Hagen, who teaches at a high school in Palo Alto, Calif. “Its service is supplementary to our teaching at the school.”
Thousands of high schools across the United States started offering Chinese courses last year, which Rao sees as opening the door to a huge market to his Internet Chinese language school. Since then, chinese-online has landed an increasing number of individuals, as well as school groups, to learn from more than 40 teachers working in China’s capital. Students and teachers sit in a virtual classroom using the free service of Skype, said Rao.
Rao’s Internet language school would have been a mission impossible only a few years ago, when the technologies needed were rare and expensive. But now, empowered by Skype, Google Talk and MSN, with audio, video and multimedia materials on its website, more than 400 students between four and 72 years old have been studying in virtual classrooms. Rao plans to attract students from at least 100 countries next year.
But it is China’s economic engine that is the most powerful force bringing students to learn Chinese. People from all over the world believe that knowing the delicate tonal language is surely a tool to grab a sizeable share of that market.
Jeff Ryan from New York City said one key reason his company chose to train employees in virtual Chinese language classrooms on a regular basis was “that they (eChineseLearning) can customize lessons to meet our employee’s need and schedule.”
“The price is unbelievably cheap – a small fraction for what you would ordinarily have to pay in the United States for such high quality one-on-one tutoring,” said Anthony Zaloom, adjunct professor of law, business and economy, who teaches at Univ. of California, Berkeley School of Law.
The price is a big draw for individual and group students. eChineseLearning charges students nine U.S. dollars per hour, less than half of the market price for the prevalent tutoring rate of $20 to $30 in the San Francisco Bay Area or in New York. If bought in bulk class hours, students get an hour for seven dollars. From time to time, the online language school offers promotions. Its five dollars per hour price lures new students.
Having been an eChineseLearning student since shortly after the school got started, Zaloom has worked in law firms in China and Japan for more than three decades.
The course is tailored to each student’s need. Rao now offers an advanced-level course, with the student reading and discussing with his or her Chinese teacher the most famous, ancient Chinese novel “Dream of the Red Chamber.”
The Best Way to Learn Chinese Language
Whenever people know that I'm the owner of a Chinese school (Chinese-online), they would immediately ask me: What's the best way to learn Chinese (as a second language, of course) ?
Well, It's not a straight-forward answer. The implication of the question is 'How can I effectively learn Chinese language and quickly?'
Actually not only for learning Chinese, to Learn any language as a second effectively is dependant on lots of factors like
- If the teaching materials, system are suitable for the learners
- If the teacher's roll can be fulfilled
- The learner's determination for acquisition of the language
- The learner's ability of language acquisition
- the teaching method, etc.
But you can judge by a principle which way is better. Since the function of language is communication, and communication acquires two parties to pass the messages to each other interactively, even though when the messages are decoded by the other party there is sometimes some inaccuracy, even completely wrong. For example, when I taught a German student the fourth tone (there are 4 basic tones in Spoken Chinese), he couldn't do it right - but went to 'first tone'), then when I added on hand gesture and also told him to pay stress on it, he immediately got it right.
This fact again proved the scientific principle for training which CH has been applying - by using learners all (more) senses - Sight, Hearing, Touch, Speaking you can get the best results
Therefore you can judge by this all-sense principle which Chinese language program could generate better results; any way that only applies listening or and limited imitation can not achieve real communication.
Of course, this is not to say that CDs, tapes, radio and podcasts are not language-learning achievable because anybody would have a learning preference, I believe if you do something with your preference, it always help - it gives you extra motivation.
The most important point when you choose a Chinese program is, to know at what stage you are to start, i.e. the foundation of your Chinese, and your aim and target. If you're at beginning or elementary level, I suggest you choose programs with the All-sense principle, like CH program.
It's not because I'm the owner of Chinese Horizon, just from the viewpoint of language acquisition, I strongly recommend learners of beginner to intermediate levels take our programs; for learners of advanced level, you have more options to take, but CH can also meet your needs in one way or another.
Well, It's not a straight-forward answer. The implication of the question is 'How can I effectively learn Chinese language and quickly?'
Actually not only for learning Chinese, to Learn any language as a second effectively is dependant on lots of factors like
- If the teaching materials, system are suitable for the learners
- If the teacher's roll can be fulfilled
- The learner's determination for acquisition of the language
- The learner's ability of language acquisition
- the teaching method, etc.
But you can judge by a principle which way is better. Since the function of language is communication, and communication acquires two parties to pass the messages to each other interactively, even though when the messages are decoded by the other party there is sometimes some inaccuracy, even completely wrong. For example, when I taught a German student the fourth tone (there are 4 basic tones in Spoken Chinese), he couldn't do it right - but went to 'first tone'), then when I added on hand gesture and also told him to pay stress on it, he immediately got it right.
This fact again proved the scientific principle for training which CH has been applying - by using learners all (more) senses - Sight, Hearing, Touch, Speaking you can get the best results
Therefore you can judge by this all-sense principle which Chinese language program could generate better results; any way that only applies listening or and limited imitation can not achieve real communication.
Of course, this is not to say that CDs, tapes, radio and podcasts are not language-learning achievable because anybody would have a learning preference, I believe if you do something with your preference, it always help - it gives you extra motivation.
The most important point when you choose a Chinese program is, to know at what stage you are to start, i.e. the foundation of your Chinese, and your aim and target. If you're at beginning or elementary level, I suggest you choose programs with the All-sense principle, like CH program.
It's not because I'm the owner of Chinese Horizon, just from the viewpoint of language acquisition, I strongly recommend learners of beginner to intermediate levels take our programs; for learners of advanced level, you have more options to take, but CH can also meet your needs in one way or another.
learn chinese-one on one mandarin lessons online
With the increased popularity of the internet, online learn chinese or distance education has become more popular and mainstream. The learning courses offered online do not require the student to be on campus for most or all class participation. The courses allow the students to work with course materials at their own convenience or communicate with tutor using instant message tools like MSN or Skype.
Online learning are ideal for people who have full-time jobs or other commitments and cannot take time off for full time studies. By leveraging the internet to deliver rich multimedia instruction along with online communities and discussions, e-learning has the power to increase access to education and training, while reducing learning costs.
No matter the level of instruction or information you are seeking, you no longer have to achieve your education through the traditional means. Browse through internet which contains extensive information and resources for today’s online learning and education.
My advice to anyone wanting to learn Chinese is to come to Chinese Online. Rather than paying for a substandard university course you can have a true immersion experience and get paid for your efforts. If you did want to go to University then fee’s here are very very cheap. It is just a piece of cake for people living in the western world.
Online learning are ideal for people who have full-time jobs or other commitments and cannot take time off for full time studies. By leveraging the internet to deliver rich multimedia instruction along with online communities and discussions, e-learning has the power to increase access to education and training, while reducing learning costs.
No matter the level of instruction or information you are seeking, you no longer have to achieve your education through the traditional means. Browse through internet which contains extensive information and resources for today’s online learning and education.
My advice to anyone wanting to learn Chinese is to come to Chinese Online. Rather than paying for a substandard university course you can have a true immersion experience and get paid for your efforts. If you did want to go to University then fee’s here are very very cheap. It is just a piece of cake for people living in the western world.
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