This poem represents the huguy experience, and also in it, the differing cast of characters that share the stage of life via us. As fellow travelers crossing over to “phase right” or “stage left”, we assume that our roles have been permanently cast. With our character and lines currently collection, we have foracquired that we are only actors playing a component.

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As actors complying with yesterday’s scripts, we might allow our negative opinions and left-over prejudices and also perspectives to dictate how we will treat another. Or, via the regular mindful option of love, kindness, tolerance and also compassion, we could readjust the script of this people, thereby, making this phase a much better place for life to play out.By being a frifinish to all personalities on the phase of life, whatever component they playing at the moment, we are not playing a duty that is above or below them, yet we are recognizing them, simply as we are, fellow travelers crossing the phase of life. With this realization of ehigh quality, lies the hope and also beauty of a brand-new people.

The House By the Side of the Road


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A residence by the side of the road


Let me live in a residence by the side of the road,Wright here the race of males go by –The men who are good and also the males that are poor,As excellent and as bad as I.I would certainly not sit in the scorner’s seat,Or hurl the cynic’s ban;Let me live in a home by the side of the roadAnd be a frifinish to male.

I watch from my house by the side of the road,By the side of the highway of life,The guys that press with the ardor of hope,The males that are faint via the strife.But I turn not amethod from their smiles nor their tears –Both components of an limitless plan;Let me live in my residence by the side of the roadAnd be a frifinish to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows aheadAnd mountains of wearisome height;And the road passes on through the long afternoonAnd stretches amethod to the night.But still I rejoice as soon as the travelers rejoice,And weep through the strangers that moan,Nor live in my home by the side of the roadLike a male who dwells alone.

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Let me live in my home by the side of the roadWhere the race of men go by –They are excellent, they are bad, they are weak, they are solid,Wise, foolish – so am I.Then why must I sit in the scorner’s seatOr hurl the cynic’s ban?Let me live in my house by the side of the roadAnd be a friend to man.