A comprehensive web on Sri Lanka

A well presented web page on Sri Lanka published from Australia. Click on the web-address below to open it.

http://thelankan3000.webnode.com/

Two 'Brown-headed barbets' in our garden - Philip G V

Thoughts of a terminal care worker

Five Regrets of the Dying

By Bronnie Ware, Platinum Quality Author

For many years I worked in palliative care. My patients were those who had gone home to die. Some incredibly special times were shared. I was with them for the last three to twelve weeks of their lives.

People grow a lot when they are faced with their own mortality. I learned never to underestimate someone's capacity for growth. Some changes were phenomenal. Each experienced a variety of emotions, as expected, denial, fear, anger, remorse, more denial and eventually acceptance. Every single patient found their peace before they departed though, every one of them.

When questioned about any regrets they had or anything they would do differently, common themes surfaced again and again. Here are the most common five:

1. I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
This was the most common regret of all. When people realise that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people have had not honoured even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made.

It is very important to try and honour at least some of your dreams along the way. From the moment that you lose your health, it is too late. Health brings a freedom very few realise, until they no longer have it.

2. I wish I didn't work so hard.
This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children's youth and their partner's companionship. Women also spoke of this regret. But as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence.

By simplifying your lifestyle and making conscious choices along the way, it is possible to not need the income that you think you do. And by creating more space in your life, you become happier and more open to new opportunities, ones more suited to your new lifestyle.

3. I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.
Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.

We cannot control the reactions of others. However, although people may initially react when you change the way you are by speaking honestly, in the end it raises the relationship to a whole new and healthier level. Either that or it releases the unhealthy relationship from your life. Either way, you win.

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
Often they would not truly realise the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.

It is common for anyone in a busy lifestyle to let friendships slip. But when you are faced with your approaching death, the physical details of life fall away. People do want to get their financial affairs in order if possible. But it is not money or status that holds the true importance for them. They want to get things in order more for the benefit of those they love. Usually though, they are too ill and weary to ever manage this task. It is all comes down to love and relationships in the end. That is all that remains in the final weeks, love and relationships.

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.
This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realise until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called 'comfort' of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content. When deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again.

When you are on your death-bed, what others think of you is a long way from your mind. How wonderful to be able to let go and smile again, long before you are dying.

Life is a choice. It is YOUR life. Choose consciously, choose wisely, choose honestly. Choose happiness.

Steve Jobs of Apple fame reminisces

From:Dawood
To:Batch1960

Want to know what makes Apple CEO Steve Jobs tick? Here is a fascinating
insight. It was an address he famously gave on June 12, 2005 to a graduating
class at Stanford University. This talk greatly inspired me when I first came
across it, and still does.

At a time when so many businesses and individuals are being savaged by the
global economic downturn, the genius of Steve Jobs shines through and it shows
you that by applying the right mindset there is opportunity in every adversity:

Connecting the dots, by Steve Jobs
"I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest
universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this
is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell
you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.
I dropped out of Reed College after the first six months, but then stayed around
as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop
out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college
graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very
strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all
set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I
popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my
parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night
asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?'' They said: "Of
course.'' My biological mother later found out that my mother had never
graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school.
She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months
later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was
almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings
were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the
value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how
college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the
money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust
that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back
it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could
stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in
on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in
friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5 cents deposits to buy food
with, and I would walk the seven miles across town every Sunday night to get one
good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I
stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless
later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in
the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer,
was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to
take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to
do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount
of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great
typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way
that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten
years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came
back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with
beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in
college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally
spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal
computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped
in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the
wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the
dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking
backwards 10 years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them
looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in
your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma,
whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the
difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.
I was lucky - I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz (Steve Wozniak) and
I started Apple in my parents' garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10
years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion
company with over 4,000 employees. We had just released our finest creation -
the Macintosh - a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired.
How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired
someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the
first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to
diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors
sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the
focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the
previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it
was being passed to me. I met with (Hewlett Packard co-founder) David Packard
and (Intel founder) Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I
was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the
valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me - I still loved what I did. The
turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I
was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the
best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being
successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure
about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my
life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company
named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife.
Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy
Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a
remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I retuned to Apple, and the
technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance.
And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from
Apple. It was awful-tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it.
Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm
convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did.
You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for
your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only
way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only
way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep
looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you
find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the
years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.
When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as
if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right.'' It made an
impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the
mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life,
would I want to do what I am about to do today?'' And whenever the answer has
been "No'' for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever
encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything -
all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure -
these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly
important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid
the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is
no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the
morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a
pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer
that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six
months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is
doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything
you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It
means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as
possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where
they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my
intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I
was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells
under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very
rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery
and I'm fine now.

This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get
for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with
a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual
concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to
get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever
escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single
best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make
way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now,
you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic,
but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be
trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking.
Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most
important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow
already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth
Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a
fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to
life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960s, before personal
computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors,
and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years
before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and
great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then
when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s,
and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of
an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on
if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay
Foolish.'' It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay
Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to
begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.
Thank you all very much."
Conclusion
Isn't that one of the most inspiring talks you've ever encountered? And doesn't
it help you to understand why Apple has defied the odds to become the world's
most valuable technology company, sitting on cash reserves of $25 billion at the
start of the current economic downturn.

As a final note, Steve Jobs has been battling with his own health issues for the
past 12 months. It has now been confirmed that he had a liver transplant in
April 2009, and has made a great recovery. I, for one, would like to thank him
for his inspiration, and wish him well in the years ahead.

Brought to you by Robert Clay

E mail from Dawood

'Be kinder than necessary
because everyone you meet
is fighting some kind of battle.'

Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis - That's Amore.

Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis in their heyday - 'That's Amore'
Click on the web address below:-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtmsIq0-T54&NR=1

Karoake version belowP-

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zeWVzT4s2Kw&feature=related

Hope it recalls our young days.
Philip

A gift from the heart

I had gone to my favourite haunt – the Bambarabotuwa valley – in the Rathnapura district, Sri Lanka. I had taken my wife Ramya and a younger sister’s daughter Mercy in her mid 20s, to show her the sights. My sister Mary had immigrated to West Germany in the 1970s during the troubles in the North and East of the Island, with her husband Nicholas. Mercy was born in Germany and was resident there. She was now in the University and was proficient in German, English, French and Tamil. On the drive to Wewalwaththe from Rathnapura, the beautiful hills, valleys, streams and waterfalls shrouded in mist here and there, held her spell bound. Her home in Germany was two hours drive from the Swiss border. She had visited Switzerland very often, visiting relatives. I asked Mercy how Switzerland’s famed beauty, compared with scenes that we were passing through. She said that Sri Lanka won easily. We went visiting a villager who’s wife, suffering from an advanced demyelinating disorder, was being looked after by her family.

On returning to Rathnapura we went to have a late lunch at a restaurant. We had ordered fried rice and devilled fish. Mercy said that the meal was exquisite. While we were there, a couple with a 14 year old daughter came to the restaurant and ordered tea. A few minutes later the waiter who served us came to me and inquired whether I was from Avissawella. On my replying in the affirmative he said that the gentleman having tea said that he knew me. The said person walked up to me and said that I had operated on him nearly 15 years ago at the GH Colombo. He introduced his charming wife who was an art teacher and his daughter. He went back to his table finished his tea, and bade a cheerful farewell to us and walked away.

I went up to the counter to buy some sweets for my grand children left behind in Avissawella, as there would be tiny hands exploring my trouser pockets for ‘lollies’, on my return from the trip. I paid for the sweets. Then the cashier told me that the gentleman I spoke to, had paid for our fried rice and devilled chicken before he went away. He had told them that I had helped him 15 years earlier. I could only accept the state of affairs as the cashier refused to accept money for what had been already paid. Mercy was highly amused by the incident and I am sure told it to her German friends when she returned there after her holiday in Sri Lanka.