I have lived a very long life. Throughout my life I met many, many good people. Or did it seem to me? Why did I ask about this? Because at the very end of this life, those very good people are less and less. They are not dead, they are alive, but they are not ... there are very few of them who are. So maybe I was wrong when I thought that I met good people? Or maybe I'm so bad myself that everyone I met on my way seemed good? I ask myself questions and begin to understand that a man is so good himself how much or little in his life of good people! Someone may disagree with this idea now, but do not hasten to disagree. Perhaps, maybe this is so: for one good person, ten bad ...
In the hands of a good doctor, sick people recover! Next to a good person and bad things can change for the better! Do you understand what I'm thinking about? If a number of scoundrels grows next to a person, then this man himself is a hundredfold bad!
I want to return to the beginning of my thought about a good man. I wrote that at the end of my life there were fewer good people than met them on my way ... And did I live my life if there were less good people? Maybe I'm not so good as to see good?
These thoughts have no doubt in themselves. This is the blindness of my heart, which did not see how the good people I once met passed with regret past me ... blind.
Look closely at those who surround you. Perhaps you will see what you did not see at the beginning of your life path, the kind hearts of people!
"REFLECTIONS" Grandpa Go