Copyright © The Humanity Project, 2007, 2008, 2009 All Rights Reserved
All tales written by Robert Spencer Knotts, president and founder
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These are the first six in a series of original modern fables for adults by The Humanity Project. They are short, fun, fictional tales that we hope will help demonstrate key points of The Humanity Project message. Stories have been used to teach moral lessons for centuries, from the ancient Greeks through the Bible and up to today’s self-help gurus. That’s also our goal with these stories. We hope you’ll enjoy them, re-posted on this blog so they can be easily read.
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The Tale of Me-First Mary
Mary was an odd name for this particular Mary. For this particular Mary often pursed her unmerry lips in disgust at some other someone. Someone, anyone who got in her way during any particular day. Mary was as unmerry as any someone could be.
Knowing that she lived in a me-first world, Mary often used her lips to speak aloud the two words always mostly on her mind. “Me.” And “my.” (Sometimes Mary often spoke the words “I” and “mine” too.) These were the syllables that tumbled off her tongue from each day’s first sunflicker to every night’s final moongleam.
Driving to work, she fumed that an accident ahead on the highway put “me” behind schedule. Vacationing in the mountains, she snorted that her boyfriend’s sprained ankle ruined “my” holiday. Watching television, she sniffed that terrible news about terrible floods somewhere interrupted “my” favorite program. The drivers in the accident and the boyfriend in the mountains and the people living near terrible floods were not tickled by these events either, of course, though this thought never meandered completely into Mary’s mind.
Mary wasn’t mean, mind you. No, Mary didn’t want to hurt anyone, of course, of course not. No, Mary had just learned, oh yes, Mary had learned the big lesson very very well: If you’re helping someone else, you’re not helping yourself. It was a hard but simple truth, as every someone understood in this me-first world.
The trouble with being just one me in a me-first world is all those other me-firsters living in your world, of course. Yes, all those other me-first people just keep getting in your way. Which was why Mary so often pursed her unmerry lips in disgust at some other someone. Which was why Mary was as unmerry as any someone could be.
And so it went for Me-First Mary, day after day after day becoming less merry by the moment. Until one day Mary had to wonder, just for one moment beneath her pursed unmerry lips: “Maybe me-first isn’t the best way to be in this world. Maybe, maybe helping only yourself isn’t really helping yourself at all.” This is what Mary wondered one day. Was it possible that doing something helpful for some other someone really might help Mary too somehow? Was it possible Mary might feel a little merrier if she thought a little less about herself alone? Was it really possible that any of this was really possible in this me-first world?
Mary pursed her lips again, tighter than usual. “No, that’s really not possible,” Mary said tartly to herself aloud. “My life’s hard enough just worrying about ‘me’ all the time! ‘Me,’ ‘me,’ ‘me’ every minute and I still can’t get what I want. Imagine how bad my life would be if I started worrying about any of ‘them’ too!”
The Humanity Project believes that Me-First Mary had it all wrong, wrong, wrong. :-) Because she was so unmerry precisely as a result of thinking only about herself. Our group believes that each of us simply function more fully as human beings when we do, indeed, worry about other people too. We think it’s possible, we know it’s possible, to focus on helping ourselves and others – all at the same time. Not only “me” and not only “them” but rather “us.” For instance, when bystander students learn to stop school bullying, they also make their schools better places for themselves to learn and enjoy each day. Practical action that helps both yourself and humanity – that’s the Humanity Project. Find out more by exploring www.thehumanityproject.com or call us at 954-205-2722.
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February 2009
The Tale of the Yellowbright Flower
Flowers feel feelings. Strong emotions vibrating out through their stamens and pistils. It’s a secret well known by flower lovers who coax blooms open with whispered encouragements. So it should be no surprise that the Yellowbright Flower growing in a large red field trembled with feelings now. Yes, he trembled each day from the strong feelings he felt. He felt different, after all, which is always a strong and unsettling thing to feel. He was the only Yellowbright Flower flowering in a field of red something-or-other plants. Whatever they were. He knew walkers walking by stopped walking and wondered at the sight of the Yellowbright Flower, stopped and stared before walking on. He knew he was some special thing, the only thing of his kind. But so what? Because the only thing of anything is always a very lonely thing to be, no matter what thing it is.
Until one midnight moonful lightbright night, as the Yellowbright Flower bobbed on a summer wind, the field spoke to him. Yes, a voice came from the field itself, from one red something-or-other plant itself in the field itself. This plant, whatever it was, now spoke to the Yellowbright Flower by saying this: “You’re not really alone, you know.” No one and nothing had ever spoken to the Yellowbright Flower before. To say the Yellowbright Flower was startled would be an understatement. Remember, flowers feel strong feelings.
“You’ve missed it along,” the red plant went on to the Yellowbright Flower. “You’re a rose. So am I. So are we all, all of us in this big field. If you’re yellow, with a different bloom, your color only adds to the beauty of this field. But it’s all of us, together, that the walkers stop walking to see. Not just you. Together, we’re a garden. Alone, you’re only one pretty but very small blossom.” Funny how this changed things for the Yellowbright Flower, who now recognized he was really a Yellowbright Rose. Funny how those few words changed everything. Because no thing is really the only thing of anything, no matter how special that one thing is. Somehow it helps to feel this when you’re a flower feeling strong feelings. Yes, somehow a flower garden just feels like a much less lonely place to flower, don’t you think?
At The Humanity Project, we believe that human beings flower most fully when we begin to understand we’re part of something much larger than ourselves – humanity. And then commit ourselves to working for the betterment of humanity in whatever ways we each best can. That’s what The Humanity Project is all about: teaching individuals how to take practical action for the improvement of both humanity and ourselves. Find out more by contacting us at 954-205-2722 or go to the Contact Us page at www.thehumanityproject.com.
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July 2008
The Tale of the Small Hole
Life is tough if you’re nothing but a small hole. For big holes, sure, things aren’t quite so bad, sure, sure. At least bigger is better, as everyone knows. But for each small hole poked into the fabric of this world somewhere, there is almost nothing to do but to live in hollow boredom.
The worst of it was this, though: The Small Hole wasn’t even sure, totally sure, he was even a hole even. He was round. Sort of. He was empty inside. Kind of. But he sat among rows of black lines on a field of white. His best guess was that he came into being as a tiny hole in a sheet of paper. But he wasn’t sure, not totally sure, not sure at all.
The Small Hole had lived all his small vacant life with this terrible uncertainty. Big holes at least had some purpose anyway. They could let big things pass through them anyway, like a tunnel that is a pass-through for cars anyway. At least it was something to do with your day. Even some small holes could be useful sometimes, it seemed, as when a finger scratches an itchy leg through the pocket hole of old jeans. Even small holes had a purpose even, sometimes. Not a grand purpose, mind you. But amid the nothingness of small hole life, even small purposes were welcome.
So sat the Small Hole, day after day. Round and empty, sort of, kind of. Unable even to think of himself as a big nothing even, because he was only a small nothing after all. The Small Hole had no purpose and nothing to give at all.
Or so it seemed.
Until the day he overheard one voice uttering some very interesting words. (Yes, holes can understand whatever people say. Most recognize several languages as well as signing for the deaf.) The Small Hole heard one man’s voice talking, followed by very beautiful sounds. The same voice again, then more sounds of a beauty the Small Hole had never heard before. And then once more, the same man’s voice again, once more yes the same man’s voice, but now very loud, very bellowy now. This is when the man’s words got very interesting, if also very loud.
“You’re late!” the man’s voice bellowed. “You have the most important moment in this whole work – and you’re late! Play on the downbeat, as it is written!”
The Small Hole understood the words, of course, but he could not make sense of their true meaning. What was the bellowing man talking about? Soon enough, the Small Hole would learn.
Because now the voice of the bellowing man continued: “I can’t believe my ears! One note to play and you get it wrong! That cymbal crash is the climax of this great symphony by this great composer and you cannot be late! On the downbeat, Mr. Nada! It’s right here on your page! Let me show you!”
What was the bellowing man saying? The Small Hole glanced quickly around now, excited. Because something was happening now. Yes, now the bellowing man was drawing a circle in pencil now. A circle around … him! Around the Small Hole! The bellowing man was drawing a circle around the Small Hole, which of course meant the bellowing man had been talking about the Small Hole!
And now the Small Hole suddenly understood something he never had understood before. Something that made everything make sense at last. Because the Small Hole was not a hole at all after all, after all. He was a musical note. Sitting in the middle of a sheet of lined music paper, all alone. All alone – because he was so important.
“The most important moment in this whole work,” the bellowing man, who really was the orchestra conductor, had called the Small Hole. “The climax of this great symphony by this great composer,” the bellowing orchestra conductor man had added. Then the bellowing conductor had drawn that circle in pencil around him, around the Small Hole.
Yes, the Small Hole understood now for sure, for sure. He wasn’t a Small Hole. He was a Big Note. He was the Big Note that made the cymbals of the orchestra crash loudly together at just the right time at just the right place in the music for everyone in the audience to enjoy. For sure, the most important musical note in this great symphony by this great composer!
And the Big Note understood one thing more, for sure. He understood that this is how it goes sometimes, for sure, for sure. Because sometimes we are sitting just a little too close to the page to see everything, that’s all. Sometimes it all looks just too big all around us to recognize our real place among it all, that’s all.
Sometimes we have a more important purpose, much more important, than we think. Yes, this is what the Big Note understood at last. Except sometimes we just need someone to draw a circle around us, in pencil, to show us what we were missing all along.
The Humanity Project believes purpose is what we each find for ourselves. It is our perception of our place in the world as an individual. The Humanity Project also believes that every human being can live a fuller, more meaningful life by recognizing that we each have something important to offer. Finding that larger purpose, and making it the focus of our everyday existence – that’s what The Humanity Project is all about.
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March 2008
The Tale of No-Time Nora
No, no, no, no! No was No-Time Nora’s favorite word. Often she would say, while hurrying past him or her in some frantic flurry, “No! Sorry! No time!” No time for coffee with a colleague. Sorry! No time for sewing with her sister. Sorry! No time for a film with a friend. Sorry! No, nor time to stop and listen, nor time to stop and chat. Nora was far too busy for frivolous stuff, for time-wasting things like that.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Gotta go feed the dog! And then the cat,” she would blurt into her cellphone while darting door to door, car to apartment, in very few seconds. Usually just 26 seconds flat. Though with her arms loaded with grocery bags, Nora would sometimes wave one spare finger, very quickly, toward her neighbors Paula, Spencer and Nat.
No-Time Nora had showers to scour, you see. Washing to wash, dusting to dust. Endless errands, a list of things-to-do that filled up her day. Important stuff, time-taking chores like that. And when they were done, just before bed, there was always the company of her dog. And her cat.
There was no time at all for doing with others. There just were not two seconds in her day to give two seconds to anyone at all. She never could squeeze in one instant for friendly frolics or friendships, she never could eek out one moment for moments of family fun. Though sometimes Nora paused long enough to admire her checklists showing all the chores she just got done.
Of course, none of Nora’s “no’s” was entirely necessary. Her shower was completely mildew-free. Even her dog was scrubbed down and her cat was washed clean. As were Nora’s doors and windows and every one of her window screens.
But at least her busywork life kept her so, so, so busy. So busy she had almost no time to notice how busy she was being unhappy. No-Time Nora just numbly buzzed with a busy loneliness throughout each busywork day. With no one and nothing in her busy life but one fat dog. And one very fat cat. And one sparkling shower – oh yes, and also one totally spotless white bathmat.
Until one day, Nat helped Nora with an armload of groceries, smiled and said to her, “Nora, my neighbor, some of us plan to help out another neighbor who needs some real help this weekend, just down the street. I know you’re always rushing off to do chores in a frantic flurry. But why not help us help our neighbor for just two hours – or just one hour’s helping if you really have to hurry?”
She could at last meet all the nice neighbors in their nice neighborhood, Nat told Nora. Giving two of her busy hours to someone else might make her smile more than she seemed to smile now. She could set aside for a while, Nat suggested, all the endless chores of her frantic, flurried life. Nora might even talk a bit with Spencer and Paula – who, Nat explained, were his son and his wife.
Nora pondered Nat’s invitation for just a moment. For two seconds Nora gave his suggestion a first and second thought. Maybe she really needed to meet some people. Maybe doing something for somebody else would do her some good. Maybe a nice smile with some nice neighbors would make a nice change. And with Paula and Spencer, she might even have some pleasant words to exchange.
But you know, of course, how No-Time Nora answered Nat. “No” was the first of the few short words in her no-time reply. “No time for helping neighbors, but thanks, Nat – goodbye!”
Sometime later, after Nat was gone, Nora told herself she really would like to help her needy neighbor. Why, of course she would! Because she was a giving person after all. If, if, if only there were more hours in her busy, busy day. But on the big neighbor-helping weekend, of course, she really had to scrub down the dog and clean up the cat. “And then there’s that dirty shower to scour,” Nora reminded herself, “and I really, really must wash that filthy white bathmat!”
Time for sharing herself with others was time that No-Time Nora always seemed to lack. Besides, when she had tried sharing herself with others, in the long ago past, others sometimes didn’t share themselves back. Life was so, so much simpler with just her one sparkling shower and her one fat dog – and her one very fat cat.
The Humanity Project says there’s no need for No-Time Nora to live in such busy, lonely isolation. She was prevented from connecting with other people mostly by fear and anger – that is, her memory of times when she had reached out but didn’t get the response she expected. The Humanity Project’s program teaches a practical system for sharing our best with others. This frees us from the kind of feelings that held Nora back. Get in touch with us for more information. __________________________________________________________________________
December 2007
The Tale of Generous Jen
Upon some time lived Jennifer once. Writing a children’s book, she was, all in lovely scented verse. Writing only once, perhaps twice, a month. Perhaps. When she could find some time.
This was how Jennifer’s scented children’s book began:
“Music comes alive at night, you know.
Every note has ears to hear.
It listens for the first sound of your snore.
And waits for your dreams to come near.”
Enchanted imagination was Jennifer’s great gift, telling us of things no one else could think to tell. Much more than these few lovely words, oh yes, Jennifer had almost written. But all the rest was still locked inside her head, just dancing and humming to get out for some young someone-else to read.
Just when Jennifer’s words would be unlocked free, oh my – this was anyone’s guess. If those words would ever be unlocked at all. Because Jennifer was so generous, you see. “Generous Jen,” her family all called her. Jen’s fingertips were usually far too busy helping someone else with something else for those fingertips to unlock her enchanted imagination. Whether that help for someone else was needed much or not.
No matter how many other fingertips were busy baking cookies for the church bake sale, Generous Jen always volunteered her fingertips too. No matter that her mother rarely wore some pair of worn pants – Generous Jen hemmed them up some half-inch higher with her busy fingertips. Just in case her mother changed her mind. Every friend who didn’t really need help packing up to move got Jennifer’s generous help anyway. Every friend of a friend who didn’t really need a ride to the airport got their ride anyway from Generous Jen.
There was not a “no” bone in her body any time anyone hinted they might prefer a “yes” from Jennifer. Always giving, giving, giving something or other to someone who didn’t really need her smallish gifts. That was Generous Jennifer.
If that’s what real giving really means, of course.
Because some gifts are gifts much easier to give than others, perhaps. Perhaps.
Much easier to give, at least, than writing scented verses.
At The Humanity Project, we believe “Generous Jen” isn’t really giving her best. But we also feel sure that she could. Our program can help Jennifer free that enchanted imagination – and the other great qualities that make her a unique individual with much to offer the rest of us. Learning to share the best in ourselves with others throughout each day can help release that potential. The Humanity Project can tell you more. __________________________________________________________________
October 2007
The Tale of Techie Tom
Thomas was a technical type. Totally. His colleagues in IT called him TT. To them, he was “Techie Tom.” But he felt sure all the Ts in his nickname were merely a teasing for him, initials given not with affection but with disdain. His colleagues didn’t really like him, TT would think each day. No one wanted him around. Except for his whiz-bang wizardry on the Internet, he was a man of little interest and lesser use to anybody. Or so TT thought.
Eating lunch this day, alone as usual and thinking typically techie things, TT picked up a magazine. One article instantly caught his attention. “The Humanity Project helps people live more happily through learning to give to others,” the story read. TT scratched his earlobe and other parts. A bit of smelly tuna was stuck to his lip when he lowered the magazine and said out loud, to himself only, “What does that mean anyway? That’s stupid! What do I have to give anyone?”
But TT kept turning the magazine pages. Because the magazine article next said, “The Humanity Project teaches us to focus our actions and thoughts on giving all we can to others each day, without expecting reward or fearing rejection. This ‘giving life’ connects our daily individual efforts to something larger than any one person: humanity. And that can help bring us each greater meaning and happiness.” Now TT was terribly troubled. In an untypically testy display of emotion, he tossed the magazine to the table and stalked angrily from the lunchroom. “‘A giving life!’” he tsked and snorted over and over, walking back to his safe, separate cubicle.
On the way, TT passed two techie colleagues talking about music or something. He never listened to anyone’s untechie chatter and heard not two words. So he did not overhear one colleague telling the other that they’d never find a drummer for their weekend jazz trio. Of course, TT had played the drums all through high school. Still had a drum set hidden in his closet. “‘A giving life!’” TT snorted again as he walked past.
TT still tsked and snuffled as he passed Theresa’s cubicle, who looked up from her techie tinkering long enough to sigh to herself, “TT’s such a cute guy! Too bad he doesn’t like anyone around here.” Then she watched him stalk past her and she got a funny, sad, if-only look in her two eyes. Down the techie hall, TT closed his ears again and hurried by someone who was touring techie cubicles collecting donations for some good cause or other that didn’t concern him anyway. Back within his safe, separate cubicle space now, TT did not phone his mother who was ill or his older sister who missed his voice or his younger brother who had always admired him. And TT, who loved and understood baseball, did not make plans to coach a Little League team that season or support the local major leaguers by attending even one game. After all, TT had a TV. And after work, TT did not take his seriously major techie talents down the street to the struggling school with all the broken computer terminals. The list of did-nots is too long to list here, in toto. Instead, TT fired up a microwave pizza, alone at home as usual, and turned on the ballgame. “‘A giving life!’” TT tsked one last time, to himself. “I’ve got nothing at all to give. And even if I did, who would want it anyway?”
The Humanity Project could help Techie Tom understand that he has a lot to give. Like some of us, he just doesn’t see all his talents and gifts very clearly – and all the people who need them. Because the truth is that Tom isn’t merely a computer technician, a “techie.” He’s a human being with much to offer colleagues, family, children and his community at large. If you know a “Techie Tom” type, tell him or her about The Humanity Project. Just call us at 954-205-2722. Thanks!
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All tales written by Robert Spencer Knotts, president and founder
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These are the first six in a series of original modern fables for adults by The Humanity Project. They are short, fun, fictional tales that we hope will help demonstrate key points of The Humanity Project message. Stories have been used to teach moral lessons for centuries, from the ancient Greeks through the Bible and up to today’s self-help gurus. That’s also our goal with these stories. We hope you’ll enjoy them, re-posted on this blog so they can be easily read.
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The Tale of Me-First Mary
Mary was an odd name for this particular Mary. For this particular Mary often pursed her unmerry lips in disgust at some other someone. Someone, anyone who got in her way during any particular day. Mary was as unmerry as any someone could be.
Knowing that she lived in a me-first world, Mary often used her lips to speak aloud the two words always mostly on her mind. “Me.” And “my.” (Sometimes Mary often spoke the words “I” and “mine” too.) These were the syllables that tumbled off her tongue from each day’s first sunflicker to every night’s final moongleam.
Driving to work, she fumed that an accident ahead on the highway put “me” behind schedule. Vacationing in the mountains, she snorted that her boyfriend’s sprained ankle ruined “my” holiday. Watching television, she sniffed that terrible news about terrible floods somewhere interrupted “my” favorite program. The drivers in the accident and the boyfriend in the mountains and the people living near terrible floods were not tickled by these events either, of course, though this thought never meandered completely into Mary’s mind.
Mary wasn’t mean, mind you. No, Mary didn’t want to hurt anyone, of course, of course not. No, Mary had just learned, oh yes, Mary had learned the big lesson very very well: If you’re helping someone else, you’re not helping yourself. It was a hard but simple truth, as every someone understood in this me-first world.
The trouble with being just one me in a me-first world is all those other me-firsters living in your world, of course. Yes, all those other me-first people just keep getting in your way. Which was why Mary so often pursed her unmerry lips in disgust at some other someone. Which was why Mary was as unmerry as any someone could be.
And so it went for Me-First Mary, day after day after day becoming less merry by the moment. Until one day Mary had to wonder, just for one moment beneath her pursed unmerry lips: “Maybe me-first isn’t the best way to be in this world. Maybe, maybe helping only yourself isn’t really helping yourself at all.” This is what Mary wondered one day. Was it possible that doing something helpful for some other someone really might help Mary too somehow? Was it possible Mary might feel a little merrier if she thought a little less about herself alone? Was it really possible that any of this was really possible in this me-first world?
Mary pursed her lips again, tighter than usual. “No, that’s really not possible,” Mary said tartly to herself aloud. “My life’s hard enough just worrying about ‘me’ all the time! ‘Me,’ ‘me,’ ‘me’ every minute and I still can’t get what I want. Imagine how bad my life would be if I started worrying about any of ‘them’ too!”
The Humanity Project believes that Me-First Mary had it all wrong, wrong, wrong. :-) Because she was so unmerry precisely as a result of thinking only about herself. Our group believes that each of us simply function more fully as human beings when we do, indeed, worry about other people too. We think it’s possible, we know it’s possible, to focus on helping ourselves and others – all at the same time. Not only “me” and not only “them” but rather “us.” For instance, when bystander students learn to stop school bullying, they also make their schools better places for themselves to learn and enjoy each day. Practical action that helps both yourself and humanity – that’s the Humanity Project. Find out more by exploring www.thehumanityproject.com or call us at 954-205-2722.
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February 2009
The Tale of the Yellowbright Flower
Flowers feel feelings. Strong emotions vibrating out through their stamens and pistils. It’s a secret well known by flower lovers who coax blooms open with whispered encouragements. So it should be no surprise that the Yellowbright Flower growing in a large red field trembled with feelings now. Yes, he trembled each day from the strong feelings he felt. He felt different, after all, which is always a strong and unsettling thing to feel. He was the only Yellowbright Flower flowering in a field of red something-or-other plants. Whatever they were. He knew walkers walking by stopped walking and wondered at the sight of the Yellowbright Flower, stopped and stared before walking on. He knew he was some special thing, the only thing of his kind. But so what? Because the only thing of anything is always a very lonely thing to be, no matter what thing it is.
Until one midnight moonful lightbright night, as the Yellowbright Flower bobbed on a summer wind, the field spoke to him. Yes, a voice came from the field itself, from one red something-or-other plant itself in the field itself. This plant, whatever it was, now spoke to the Yellowbright Flower by saying this: “You’re not really alone, you know.” No one and nothing had ever spoken to the Yellowbright Flower before. To say the Yellowbright Flower was startled would be an understatement. Remember, flowers feel strong feelings.
“You’ve missed it along,” the red plant went on to the Yellowbright Flower. “You’re a rose. So am I. So are we all, all of us in this big field. If you’re yellow, with a different bloom, your color only adds to the beauty of this field. But it’s all of us, together, that the walkers stop walking to see. Not just you. Together, we’re a garden. Alone, you’re only one pretty but very small blossom.” Funny how this changed things for the Yellowbright Flower, who now recognized he was really a Yellowbright Rose. Funny how those few words changed everything. Because no thing is really the only thing of anything, no matter how special that one thing is. Somehow it helps to feel this when you’re a flower feeling strong feelings. Yes, somehow a flower garden just feels like a much less lonely place to flower, don’t you think?
At The Humanity Project, we believe that human beings flower most fully when we begin to understand we’re part of something much larger than ourselves – humanity. And then commit ourselves to working for the betterment of humanity in whatever ways we each best can. That’s what The Humanity Project is all about: teaching individuals how to take practical action for the improvement of both humanity and ourselves. Find out more by contacting us at 954-205-2722 or go to the Contact Us page at www.thehumanityproject.com.
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July 2008
The Tale of the Small Hole
Life is tough if you’re nothing but a small hole. For big holes, sure, things aren’t quite so bad, sure, sure. At least bigger is better, as everyone knows. But for each small hole poked into the fabric of this world somewhere, there is almost nothing to do but to live in hollow boredom.
The worst of it was this, though: The Small Hole wasn’t even sure, totally sure, he was even a hole even. He was round. Sort of. He was empty inside. Kind of. But he sat among rows of black lines on a field of white. His best guess was that he came into being as a tiny hole in a sheet of paper. But he wasn’t sure, not totally sure, not sure at all.
The Small Hole had lived all his small vacant life with this terrible uncertainty. Big holes at least had some purpose anyway. They could let big things pass through them anyway, like a tunnel that is a pass-through for cars anyway. At least it was something to do with your day. Even some small holes could be useful sometimes, it seemed, as when a finger scratches an itchy leg through the pocket hole of old jeans. Even small holes had a purpose even, sometimes. Not a grand purpose, mind you. But amid the nothingness of small hole life, even small purposes were welcome.
So sat the Small Hole, day after day. Round and empty, sort of, kind of. Unable even to think of himself as a big nothing even, because he was only a small nothing after all. The Small Hole had no purpose and nothing to give at all.
Or so it seemed.
Until the day he overheard one voice uttering some very interesting words. (Yes, holes can understand whatever people say. Most recognize several languages as well as signing for the deaf.) The Small Hole heard one man’s voice talking, followed by very beautiful sounds. The same voice again, then more sounds of a beauty the Small Hole had never heard before. And then once more, the same man’s voice again, once more yes the same man’s voice, but now very loud, very bellowy now. This is when the man’s words got very interesting, if also very loud.
“You’re late!” the man’s voice bellowed. “You have the most important moment in this whole work – and you’re late! Play on the downbeat, as it is written!”
The Small Hole understood the words, of course, but he could not make sense of their true meaning. What was the bellowing man talking about? Soon enough, the Small Hole would learn.
Because now the voice of the bellowing man continued: “I can’t believe my ears! One note to play and you get it wrong! That cymbal crash is the climax of this great symphony by this great composer and you cannot be late! On the downbeat, Mr. Nada! It’s right here on your page! Let me show you!”
What was the bellowing man saying? The Small Hole glanced quickly around now, excited. Because something was happening now. Yes, now the bellowing man was drawing a circle in pencil now. A circle around … him! Around the Small Hole! The bellowing man was drawing a circle around the Small Hole, which of course meant the bellowing man had been talking about the Small Hole!
And now the Small Hole suddenly understood something he never had understood before. Something that made everything make sense at last. Because the Small Hole was not a hole at all after all, after all. He was a musical note. Sitting in the middle of a sheet of lined music paper, all alone. All alone – because he was so important.
“The most important moment in this whole work,” the bellowing man, who really was the orchestra conductor, had called the Small Hole. “The climax of this great symphony by this great composer,” the bellowing orchestra conductor man had added. Then the bellowing conductor had drawn that circle in pencil around him, around the Small Hole.
Yes, the Small Hole understood now for sure, for sure. He wasn’t a Small Hole. He was a Big Note. He was the Big Note that made the cymbals of the orchestra crash loudly together at just the right time at just the right place in the music for everyone in the audience to enjoy. For sure, the most important musical note in this great symphony by this great composer!
And the Big Note understood one thing more, for sure. He understood that this is how it goes sometimes, for sure, for sure. Because sometimes we are sitting just a little too close to the page to see everything, that’s all. Sometimes it all looks just too big all around us to recognize our real place among it all, that’s all.
Sometimes we have a more important purpose, much more important, than we think. Yes, this is what the Big Note understood at last. Except sometimes we just need someone to draw a circle around us, in pencil, to show us what we were missing all along.
The Humanity Project believes purpose is what we each find for ourselves. It is our perception of our place in the world as an individual. The Humanity Project also believes that every human being can live a fuller, more meaningful life by recognizing that we each have something important to offer. Finding that larger purpose, and making it the focus of our everyday existence – that’s what The Humanity Project is all about.
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March 2008
The Tale of No-Time Nora
No, no, no, no! No was No-Time Nora’s favorite word. Often she would say, while hurrying past him or her in some frantic flurry, “No! Sorry! No time!” No time for coffee with a colleague. Sorry! No time for sewing with her sister. Sorry! No time for a film with a friend. Sorry! No, nor time to stop and listen, nor time to stop and chat. Nora was far too busy for frivolous stuff, for time-wasting things like that.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Gotta go feed the dog! And then the cat,” she would blurt into her cellphone while darting door to door, car to apartment, in very few seconds. Usually just 26 seconds flat. Though with her arms loaded with grocery bags, Nora would sometimes wave one spare finger, very quickly, toward her neighbors Paula, Spencer and Nat.
No-Time Nora had showers to scour, you see. Washing to wash, dusting to dust. Endless errands, a list of things-to-do that filled up her day. Important stuff, time-taking chores like that. And when they were done, just before bed, there was always the company of her dog. And her cat.
There was no time at all for doing with others. There just were not two seconds in her day to give two seconds to anyone at all. She never could squeeze in one instant for friendly frolics or friendships, she never could eek out one moment for moments of family fun. Though sometimes Nora paused long enough to admire her checklists showing all the chores she just got done.
Of course, none of Nora’s “no’s” was entirely necessary. Her shower was completely mildew-free. Even her dog was scrubbed down and her cat was washed clean. As were Nora’s doors and windows and every one of her window screens.
But at least her busywork life kept her so, so, so busy. So busy she had almost no time to notice how busy she was being unhappy. No-Time Nora just numbly buzzed with a busy loneliness throughout each busywork day. With no one and nothing in her busy life but one fat dog. And one very fat cat. And one sparkling shower – oh yes, and also one totally spotless white bathmat.
Until one day, Nat helped Nora with an armload of groceries, smiled and said to her, “Nora, my neighbor, some of us plan to help out another neighbor who needs some real help this weekend, just down the street. I know you’re always rushing off to do chores in a frantic flurry. But why not help us help our neighbor for just two hours – or just one hour’s helping if you really have to hurry?”
She could at last meet all the nice neighbors in their nice neighborhood, Nat told Nora. Giving two of her busy hours to someone else might make her smile more than she seemed to smile now. She could set aside for a while, Nat suggested, all the endless chores of her frantic, flurried life. Nora might even talk a bit with Spencer and Paula – who, Nat explained, were his son and his wife.
Nora pondered Nat’s invitation for just a moment. For two seconds Nora gave his suggestion a first and second thought. Maybe she really needed to meet some people. Maybe doing something for somebody else would do her some good. Maybe a nice smile with some nice neighbors would make a nice change. And with Paula and Spencer, she might even have some pleasant words to exchange.
But you know, of course, how No-Time Nora answered Nat. “No” was the first of the few short words in her no-time reply. “No time for helping neighbors, but thanks, Nat – goodbye!”
Sometime later, after Nat was gone, Nora told herself she really would like to help her needy neighbor. Why, of course she would! Because she was a giving person after all. If, if, if only there were more hours in her busy, busy day. But on the big neighbor-helping weekend, of course, she really had to scrub down the dog and clean up the cat. “And then there’s that dirty shower to scour,” Nora reminded herself, “and I really, really must wash that filthy white bathmat!”
Time for sharing herself with others was time that No-Time Nora always seemed to lack. Besides, when she had tried sharing herself with others, in the long ago past, others sometimes didn’t share themselves back. Life was so, so much simpler with just her one sparkling shower and her one fat dog – and her one very fat cat.
The Humanity Project says there’s no need for No-Time Nora to live in such busy, lonely isolation. She was prevented from connecting with other people mostly by fear and anger – that is, her memory of times when she had reached out but didn’t get the response she expected. The Humanity Project’s program teaches a practical system for sharing our best with others. This frees us from the kind of feelings that held Nora back. Get in touch with us for more information. __________________________________________________________________________
December 2007
The Tale of Generous Jen
Upon some time lived Jennifer once. Writing a children’s book, she was, all in lovely scented verse. Writing only once, perhaps twice, a month. Perhaps. When she could find some time.
This was how Jennifer’s scented children’s book began:
“Music comes alive at night, you know.
Every note has ears to hear.
It listens for the first sound of your snore.
And waits for your dreams to come near.”
Enchanted imagination was Jennifer’s great gift, telling us of things no one else could think to tell. Much more than these few lovely words, oh yes, Jennifer had almost written. But all the rest was still locked inside her head, just dancing and humming to get out for some young someone-else to read.
Just when Jennifer’s words would be unlocked free, oh my – this was anyone’s guess. If those words would ever be unlocked at all. Because Jennifer was so generous, you see. “Generous Jen,” her family all called her. Jen’s fingertips were usually far too busy helping someone else with something else for those fingertips to unlock her enchanted imagination. Whether that help for someone else was needed much or not.
No matter how many other fingertips were busy baking cookies for the church bake sale, Generous Jen always volunteered her fingertips too. No matter that her mother rarely wore some pair of worn pants – Generous Jen hemmed them up some half-inch higher with her busy fingertips. Just in case her mother changed her mind. Every friend who didn’t really need help packing up to move got Jennifer’s generous help anyway. Every friend of a friend who didn’t really need a ride to the airport got their ride anyway from Generous Jen.
There was not a “no” bone in her body any time anyone hinted they might prefer a “yes” from Jennifer. Always giving, giving, giving something or other to someone who didn’t really need her smallish gifts. That was Generous Jennifer.
If that’s what real giving really means, of course.
Because some gifts are gifts much easier to give than others, perhaps. Perhaps.
Much easier to give, at least, than writing scented verses.
At The Humanity Project, we believe “Generous Jen” isn’t really giving her best. But we also feel sure that she could. Our program can help Jennifer free that enchanted imagination – and the other great qualities that make her a unique individual with much to offer the rest of us. Learning to share the best in ourselves with others throughout each day can help release that potential. The Humanity Project can tell you more. __________________________________________________________________
October 2007
The Tale of Techie Tom
Thomas was a technical type. Totally. His colleagues in IT called him TT. To them, he was “Techie Tom.” But he felt sure all the Ts in his nickname were merely a teasing for him, initials given not with affection but with disdain. His colleagues didn’t really like him, TT would think each day. No one wanted him around. Except for his whiz-bang wizardry on the Internet, he was a man of little interest and lesser use to anybody. Or so TT thought.
Eating lunch this day, alone as usual and thinking typically techie things, TT picked up a magazine. One article instantly caught his attention. “The Humanity Project helps people live more happily through learning to give to others,” the story read. TT scratched his earlobe and other parts. A bit of smelly tuna was stuck to his lip when he lowered the magazine and said out loud, to himself only, “What does that mean anyway? That’s stupid! What do I have to give anyone?”
But TT kept turning the magazine pages. Because the magazine article next said, “The Humanity Project teaches us to focus our actions and thoughts on giving all we can to others each day, without expecting reward or fearing rejection. This ‘giving life’ connects our daily individual efforts to something larger than any one person: humanity. And that can help bring us each greater meaning and happiness.” Now TT was terribly troubled. In an untypically testy display of emotion, he tossed the magazine to the table and stalked angrily from the lunchroom. “‘A giving life!’” he tsked and snorted over and over, walking back to his safe, separate cubicle.
On the way, TT passed two techie colleagues talking about music or something. He never listened to anyone’s untechie chatter and heard not two words. So he did not overhear one colleague telling the other that they’d never find a drummer for their weekend jazz trio. Of course, TT had played the drums all through high school. Still had a drum set hidden in his closet. “‘A giving life!’” TT snorted again as he walked past.
TT still tsked and snuffled as he passed Theresa’s cubicle, who looked up from her techie tinkering long enough to sigh to herself, “TT’s such a cute guy! Too bad he doesn’t like anyone around here.” Then she watched him stalk past her and she got a funny, sad, if-only look in her two eyes. Down the techie hall, TT closed his ears again and hurried by someone who was touring techie cubicles collecting donations for some good cause or other that didn’t concern him anyway. Back within his safe, separate cubicle space now, TT did not phone his mother who was ill or his older sister who missed his voice or his younger brother who had always admired him. And TT, who loved and understood baseball, did not make plans to coach a Little League team that season or support the local major leaguers by attending even one game. After all, TT had a TV. And after work, TT did not take his seriously major techie talents down the street to the struggling school with all the broken computer terminals. The list of did-nots is too long to list here, in toto. Instead, TT fired up a microwave pizza, alone at home as usual, and turned on the ballgame. “‘A giving life!’” TT tsked one last time, to himself. “I’ve got nothing at all to give. And even if I did, who would want it anyway?”
The Humanity Project could help Techie Tom understand that he has a lot to give. Like some of us, he just doesn’t see all his talents and gifts very clearly – and all the people who need them. Because the truth is that Tom isn’t merely a computer technician, a “techie.” He’s a human being with much to offer colleagues, family, children and his community at large. If you know a “Techie Tom” type, tell him or her about The Humanity Project. Just call us at 954-205-2722. Thanks!
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Labels: giving, giving to others, happiness, helping others, human values, philosophy, psychology, self-help, service to others, The Humanity Project
posted by Robert Spencer Knotts at
5:31 PM
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