THREE GRAINS OF WHEAT

                 "What would you be willing to give up to discover the world beyond your front door?"

It is my honor to talk about this amazing book, by a great Author and a dear Friend Mike Papasavas. I first met Mike in 2009 in New Jersey. We had our little chit chats here and there, and I always felt something was different about him. He was not an average human being, there's more to him than what he shows. A well spoken, calm and content personality Mike, blew me away through his writings. I am very proud to have a signed copy by the Author himself, and I cherish it. I wanted to write about his book from the very first day I started blogging, but as everyone knows by now, It takes me a while to write about things I am immensely passionate about. I guess, I have some kind of psychological glitch. This book will change your perspective about life and life challenges. I cant say enough, I was amazed at the depth of his journey from Germany to Canada and into America. A book full of life challenges, social situations, humor, sadness and love. Thanks Mike for being a good Friend and Inspiring me to write, you might not know this, but your book was my inspiration. And Thank you for always keeping up with my blogs and your motivating and inspiring comments. 

Mike's book - Three Grains of Wheat is available on Amazon.

 Here is one of the chapters from Mike Papasavas Book - Three Grains of Wheat

  CHAPTER 49 - DREAMS AND REALITIES
                                                              

One night, while I said my prayers before I went to bed, an impulsive thought flashed through my mind: "Is it possible that there is nothing after death?" I shrugged off this disconcerting thought and hit the hay. Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, I had a most extraordinary dream:

I found myself elevated to a different plateau than my usual, earthly surroundings and onto an open field filled with wildflowers. The sun was shining on that late morning, the birds were singing, and the bees were buzzing busily to retrieve the nectar from the rainbow of blossoms. I stood in the middle of the field for a while, admiring the majestic scene and enjoying the serenity I felt.

All of a sudden, I saw a tall man dressed in a denim coveralls. He was holding a saw and standing next to an unfinished wooden horse he was working on.

"Come to me, don't be afraid, " he said as a wide smile spread over his gentle face. "I understand you had a question,"

"Yes, I did but... how did you know?" I replied with a trembling voice. " It doesn't matter how I know, but I would like to answer your question, " he replied, beckoning me to approach him. "Come, my friend, hop on behind me and take a short ride on my wooden horse." Unafraid, I climbed aboard the wooden steed behind this kindly man. "Hold tight!" he cried, and at that point we whizzed through space at the speed of light. I was overtaken by an unusual sensation of contentment, ecstacy and serenity: a unique feeling, beyond mortal exhiliration and the power of human words to describe. " Don's stop, please don't stop!" I yelled as orgasmic waves of pleasure washed over me.

My guide laughed and said, :Ah, my friend, this is just a sample of what afterlife is like! I have answered your question! "

I remember the man said he is taking me back. I awoke with a gasp and bolted upright to a sitting position in the bed. As i could not sleep anymore, I went downstairs, sat on the couch, and spent than an hour contemplating this wonderful, phantasmagorical dream. It was the reassurance I had needed to strengthen my faith and , at the same time, to look at life with a more positive attitude. I couldn't have had a more profound answer to my doubting question. The dream convinced me that life is great, before and after death. 

                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last but not least, One of my favorite. One of Mike's writing's for his wife Angela, "ONLY YOU"

                                                                      

 CHAPTER 59 - UNSPOKEN WORDS

                                                                           

 ONLY YOU

My mind wanders in the skies, In the mountains and valleys, And...among nature's beauty. There's you... blending so nicely with all those beautiful things. I connect with nature and you are there. I smell the flowers and I sense your presence. I hear music, I hear humming and... There are angels whispering your name. Angelica! Angelica!

What a beautiful name, what a beautiful person. A blend of everything with kindness, Understanding and selfless loving care... Giving, giving giving, more than she ever receives. But once, I was told I had the right to dream. That I can have a partner, a wife like that person. Am I still dreaming? What is the difference between dream and reality? Mine is " YOU"

                                               

DRAWING IN THE DUST

DRAWING IN THE DUST
                         - NOVEL BY ZOE KLEIN

(Description of the book in an interview with the Author, Zoe Klein.)

-The creation that is happening through out the novel is a choreography of a dance between mortal and eternal. Toward the end of the novel, Page realizes, " Story is the one thing that moves between death and life. The soul of a person is made from stories. Stories that keep telling themselves over countless ages, and when a man no longer listens, they become the lyrics to the music of galaxies." She finally begins to transform the battle into a dance.

THE SCROLL OF ANATIYA

" There are times when I fall into a trance, when I feel myself far away, lingering over the date tree. I look down at myself as I write in the scroll. I look down at the people who nibble baskets of berries and nuts. And I lie upon the air and float as if on water with no fear of falling. And when I return and my eyes are my own, the words I have written are not. They are lyrics from some other place, from some other hand, but I dare not discard them."

                                     

                                                  -Zoe Klein, Drawing in the Dust 

" See the gnarled olive tree, hollowed out by lightning and by rot. Even so, and without much effort, it raises up a true branch feathered with long green leaves that ruffle silvery in the wind. It manages to nourish, with it's body utterly cored, a dangling of olive-fruit, rich as the coins dangling over a wealthy bride's forehead."

                                     

                                                     -Zoe Klein, Drawing in the Dust

“I realize the dust we return to is not the same dust from which we come. It is not that we come from ashes and nothingness and return to the same ashes and nothingness. The dust we return to has history. The ashes we become were touched, inscribed, detailed, adorned. They glowed.” 

                                     

                                                   -Zoe Klein, Drawing in the Dust

" I stir up love into roaring waves. I cast a glisten into dull eyes. My love is a great river that bursts it's banks and gushes from the portents of the sky, a flood that none can hold back, washing over towers and walls. Love's matriarch! Untouched by my own lover, my desire overwhelms and spills from me in torrents. My love cannot be measured, nor can it's foundations ever be fathomed. As I contemplate the infinity of my love, a great miracle is mustered out of the depths of my musing- the sky rains! Great ropes of rain descend, in a great splashing rush! "

                               

                                                -Zoe Klein, Drawing in the Dust

" Your eyes were the only eyes, the only eyes saw everything. They drank in the visions like quills drinking ink. "

            

                                                -Zoe Klein, Drawing in the Dust

The creation that is happening throughout the novel is the choreography of a dance between mortal and eternal. Toward the end of the novel, Page realizes, “Story is the one thing that moves between death and life. The soul of a person is made from stories. Stories that keep telling themselves over countless ages, and when man no longer listens, they become the lyrics to the music of galaxies.” She finally begins to transform the battle into dance. - See more at: http://authors.simonandschuster.com/Zoe-Klein/48562018/interviews/63#sthash.Ci3CK8YH.dpuf

The creation that is happening throughout the novel is the choreography of a dance between mortal and eternal. Toward the end of the novel, Page realizes, “Story is the one thing that moves between death and life. The soul of a person is made from stories. Stories that keep telling themselves over countless ages, and when man no longer listens, they become the lyrics to the music of galaxies.” She finally begins to transform the battle into dance. - See more at: http://authors.simonandschuster.com/Zoe-Klein/48562018/interviews/63#sthash.Ci3CK8YH.dpuf

The creation that is happening throughout the novel is the choreography of a dance between mortal and eternal. Toward the end of the novel, Page realizes, “Story is the one thing that moves between death and life. The soul of a person is made from stories. Stories that keep telling themselves over countless ages, and when man no longer listens, they become the lyrics to the music of galaxies.” She finally begins to transform the battle into dance.
- See more at: http://authors.simonandschuster.com/Zoe-Klein/48562018/interviews/63#sthash.Ci3CK8YH.dpuf

BETWEEN REALITY AND FANTASY

~ BY KHALIL GIBRAN
    
Chapter from his book, THE VISION-  Reflections on the way of the soul...

Life has borne us from place to place, and the faces convey us from one spot to another, but we see only the obstacles that stand in our way and hear only the voice that terrifies us. Beauty manifests itself to us on the throne of it's splendor, and we draw near to it; in the name of the yearning we defile its hem and pull off it's diadem of purity. Love passes by us cloaked in a robe of kindness, but we fear it and conceal ourselves in the grottoes of darkness; or e follow it and commit outrages in its name. The wise among us construe it as a heavy yoke, but it is more delicate than the breaths of flowers and more subtle than the breezes of Lebanon. Wisdom stands at the turn in the road and calls upon us publicly, but we consider it false and despise it's adherents. Liberty summons us to its table, that we might savor it's wine and fare; so we go and make gluttons of ourselves, transforming that table into a stage for vulgarity and a scene of a self-abasement. Nature extends to us the hand of loyalty, asking from us that we delight in its comeliness; but we fear it's quietude and take refuge in the city, where we crowd in upon one another like a flock of sheep that spies a hungry wolf. Truth visits us, led by a smile of a child or a kiss of a beloved, but we slam the door of our emotions, excluding it and abandoning it like a vile criminal. The human heart appeals to us for help and the soul calls out  to us, but we are more deaf than a stone, unable to comprehend or understand. And when anyone listens to the cry of his heart and the call of his soul, we say, " That one is possessed," and we wash our hands of him.
Thus pass the nights, while we remain heedless. The days greet us, but we are frightened of both days and nights. We draw near to the earth, and gods join our company; we pass by the bread of life, and famine feasts on our faculties. How beloved life is to us, and how remote we are from life.