When I was eight, I wrote my first poem. My mother read and cried, “Buddy, you didn't really write this beautiful poem!” Shyly, but 1, I said yes. She poured out her 2.“It was nothing short of talent!” “What time will Father be home?” I asked. I could 3 wait to show my work to him. I spent quite some time 4 for his arrival. I wrote the poem out in my finest flourish(花体字), drew a fancy border around it and 5 I placed it right on my father's plate on the dining table. My father had begun his motion-picture career as a writer. I was sure he would be able to 6 my poem.

    At almost 7 o'clock my father burst in. He seemed 7. He circled the dining-room table, complaining about his employees. 8 he paused and glared at his plate. “What is this?” He's reaching for my poem. “Ben, Buddy has written his first poem!” my mother began. “And it's beautiful, absolutely amaze...” “If you don't mind, I'd like to decide for myself.” Father said. I 9 my head as he read that poem. It was only ten lines. But it seemed to take hours. Then I heard him dropping the poem back on the table. Now came the moment of 10. “I think it's terrible,” he said. I couldn't look up. My eyes were getting 11.

    “Ben, these are the first lines of poetry he's ever written,” my mother was saying. “He needs encouragement.” “I don't know why.” My father held his ground. “Isn't there enough 12 poetry in the world already?” I couldn't 13it another second. I ran from the dining room crying. Up in my room I 14 myself on the bed and cried the worst of the disappointment out of me.

That may have been the end of the story, but not of its 15 for me. I realized how 16 I had been. I had a mother who said, “I think it's wonderful!” and a father who drove me to hear with “I think it's awful.” Every one of us needs that mother force, from which all creation flows; and yet the mother force alone is 17. It needs the balance of the force that 18, “Watch. Listen. Review. Improve.”

    Those 19 voices of my childhood ring in my ears through the years, like two opposing winds blowing me. 20 the two poles of confirmation and doubt, both in the name of love, I try to follow my true course.

    It was the old lady's birthday. She got up early to be ready for the post. From the second floor flat she could see the postman when he came down the street, and a little boy, Johnnie,1her letters from the ground floor on the rare 2when anything came.

    Today she was sure there would be something. Myra 3 forget her mother's birthday, even if she 4 wrote at other times. Of course Myra was busy, but 5 Enid, the daughter the old lady loved most, died two years ago. Since then Myra had seen her mother three times, but her husband, Harold, never.

    The old lady was eighty this day. She had put on her best dress. Perhaps ―perhaps Myra might come. After all, eighty was a 6 birthday, another decade lined or tolerated just as you chose to look at it.7 Myra did not come, she would send a present. The old lady was 8 of that. Two spots of colour 9 her cheeks. She was 10 like a child. She would enjoy her day!

    Now, she stood by the window,11 The postman turned round the corner on his bicycle. Her heart beat 12 Johnnie saw him too and ran to the gate. Then clatter (咔嗒声), clatter up the stairs. Johnnie knocked at her door. He had got her post four envelopes. Three were unclosed cards from old friends. The fourth was closed, in Myra's writing. The old lady felt a sharp pain of13There was no parcel for her! Maybe the parcel was too large to come by letter post. That was it. It would come later by parcel post. She said to herself. She must be14.

    Almost 15 she tore the envelope open.16 in the card was a piece of paper. Written on the card was a message under the printed Happy Birthday —Buy yourself something nice with the 17, Myra and Harold. The cheque moved quickly to the floor like a bird with a broken wing. Slowly the old lady 18 to pick it up. Her present! her 19 present! With 20 fingers she tore it into little bits.

    Last year, I met a kind little boy to whom my heart went out. He would talk to me every single day cheerfully, and always seemed to have a 1 on his face. His 2 was that he stuttered（口吃）extremely 3 when he tried to talk. It was really 4 to understand what he was saying, although he loved to tell big 5！

    One morning, I was talking to the teachers who ran the school 6. The boy 7 and said hello to all of us. 8 they told me that the boy would stop every day to ask if they would be there the next day. But of course, he never had money to 9 anything.

    I decided that I would get him a little something just as a 10. So I 11 a pencil, a rubber, and a small notebook for just $1.00. I cannot 12 the look on his face when I gave him the three 13 things. Then, without a stutter, he 14 said, “Thank you so much!” and just kept 15, “Thank you! Thank you!” He gave me a big 16 before going off to class.

    I was 17 to see someone appreciate something that much. As he walked off, he was 18 showing his new stuff to other 19 walking to class. I have to say that I have never spent a dollar that would 20 so much to me.

    Years ago I was hiking (徒步旅行) in the Himalayas and had made the mistake of changing a large amount of money into the local currency(货币). As I walked through the villages of the Annapurnas, it soon became 1that the people were too poor to 2 even the simplest 3. They had nothing. This meant that it was no use carrying the wad(捆) of 4 in my pack and I was a virtual(虚拟的) walking 5 compared to the local people. I grew to 6 the money and it was 7 to have it in my bag. This led to a remarkable experience that 8 me deeply and its 9 has never left me.

    On this particular day I was left behind by my fellow hikers and found myself in a valley. As I made myself down, I noticed a young girl of around 13 10 some sheep. Like so many of the children of the amazing Nepalese people, she was very beautiful. I couldn't 11 looking at her and she looked at me. As I approached her she suddenly rushed 12 to me, and without a 13, handed me a flower. She 14 at me for a tiny moment and then she ran away. The spirit in this lovely child had responded to something she saw in me and her first 15 was to find something to 16 . Due to her 17 , there was nothing she had 18 a single flower. The 19 of my bag was never heavier than at this moment and I had just received one of the most valuable 20 I have ever had in my life.

    At my heaviest I weighed 370 pounds. I had a very poor relationship with food: I used it to 1 bad feelings, to make myself feel better, and to celebrate. Worried about my health, I tried many different kinds of  2 but nothing worked. I came to believe that I could do nothing about my 3.

    When I was 50, my weight problem began to affect me 4 . I didn't want to live the rest of my life with this 5 weight any more.

    That year, I6 a seminar where we were asked to create a project that would touch the world. A seminar leader shared her 7 story —she had not only 125 pounds, but also raised $25,000 for homeless children.

    8 by her story, I created the As We Heal(痊愈), the World Heals 9. My goal was to lose 150 pounds in one year and raise $50,00010 a movement founded 30 years ago to end hunger. This combination of healing myself and healing the world  11 me as the perfect solution.

    12I began my own personal weight program, I was filled with the fear that I would 13 the same difficulties that beat me before. While the 14 hung over my head, there were also signs that I was headed down the right 15. I sent letters to everyone I knew, telling them about my project. It worked perfectly. Donations began 16in from hundreds of people.

    Of course, I also took some practical steps to lose weight. I consulted with a physician(内科医生), I hired a fitness coach, and I began to eat small and 17 meals. My fund-raising focus also gave me new motivation to exercise 18.

    A year later, I19 my goal: I lost 150 pounds and raised $50,000! I feel that I've been given a second life to devote to something that is 20 and enormous.

    My mother spent her childhood with her father on their farm in the US. She learned how to mend fences, plow fields, and make cheese. And she learned farm life doesn't offer1rewards, but if you stick with it, the effort and the long days2.

    My grandpa spent his later years living on a comer of the3, named Cherry Ridge, where they4riding horses together every Saturday before he died in 2012.

    Since that time, the farm has5into Cherry Ridge Therapeutic Learning Programs, a center for learning, horseback riding and companionship.

    "I am a 'road scholar', learning in an experiential way," Mom told me. "I feel I was6with eyes to see the needs of a(n)7spirit," she added. She has partnered with a8called Working to Empower Students Together (WEST), which helps young people with learning disabilities, emotional and behavioral challenges, or unstable home environments.

    Mom's latest project, the Farm Day Grief Camp, was9out of her grieving after the10 of my grandpa.

    "I'm an adult woman who lost my11only six years ago," Mom said. "There is nothing12than nature and animals to help with the13process." The camp's first visitors were five kids mourning the loss of a 7-year-old who died of cancer.14included painting and recalling the child's favorite things; and a balloon launch they called Sentiments to Heaven.

    "Each camper wrote one thing they wished they could15with their departed(去世的)loved one on their16," Mom-said. Children living with physical disabilities are also17at Cherry Ridge. Recently, a student in a wheelchair smiled ear-to-ear as he led the farm's mini horses around.

    Mom's vision18children, ensuring the lessons she learned on the farm will be19for years to come. I know my grandpa would be20.