Indian Epics

The Mallard that Asked for Too Much Buddha was reborn as a Brahmin, and married a woman with whom he had three daughters.   After his death, he was reborn as a Golden Mallard and he was determined to give his golden feathers one at a time to his wife and daughters so they could live comfortably.   He tells them who he is and what he is doing, and they soon become quite wealthy. However, one day, the mother is like: “You can’t trust animals, girls.   Let’s pluck him so we can make sure we get all those gold feathers.” His daughters aren’t sure about that because they don’t want to hurt him.   So the mother is left to do it on her own.   She plucks the mallard all by herself, like the personification of green, but she is plucking the feathers against the duck’s wishes. The feathers cease to be golden and become like crane’s feathers.   His wings do grow back but they are plain white.   The father-Mallard leaves and never comes back to his greedy wife or three kind d

Buddha was reborn as a tree-spirit.   At this time, in Benares, a king decided he would build a palace with only one column, as all other palaces were supported by many columns.   So, there’s a tree in the king’s park: it’s a Sal tree that is worshiped by the village and town and even the royal family pays tribute to it.   Suddenly, the king demands to tree be cut down. The people aren’t happy but can’t disobey the king.   So they pay tribute to the tree and tell it the situation so it won’t cause harm upon the woodmen. The tree-spirit is a huge tree so if he falls, he will crush all the little trees around him.   He is very upset by this so he goes to the King’s chambers.   It is midnight when he fills the chamber with a bright radiance, weeping beside the King’s pillow. The king is scared and asks why the spirit is crying.   The Tree-God explains that he has been called “lucky-tree” and he has stood for sixty thousand years.   This king isn’t moved at first until th

I really love cats so I choose to do a Growth Mindset post about the Cat Memes. Image from Growth Mindset Cats I picked this first cat because it definitely reminded me of myself.  I love the remote and that I don't have to get up to change the TV channel.  Unfortunately (or fortunately if you want to look at it from a different perspective), life doesn't have a remote.  You have to get up and go for it on your own.  There isn't a magic ticket or a special ejection button to solve all your problems. Image from Growth Mindset Cats First of all, being from Oklahoma, I really felt for this cat staring down that wild wind.  Second, I think being afraid of change is something that I do need to work on.  It is an inspiring and cute image that really reminds me that change can be good, even if it does nearly blow you off your feet! Image from Growth Mindset Cats Being creative is super important in the profession I want to pursue.  Without creativity o

Hello all friends! I decided to do a blog post about the Canvas mobile app.  I have an iPhone, and I suspect it works just a little bit differently between an Android and an iPhone. I have had Canvas on my phone since I started school at OU, which was in 2016.  I like the site in computer format more because things like assignments, comments on assignments, and the entire list of grades for a class are seen more easily on my computer screen. The mobile app does have some cool features, like a choice to display your overall grade in the class in the top-left corner of the course's image.  I really like that option, because when I am out with family or friends and want to tell them about my awesome grades, I can just whip my phone out and see it right then as opposed to lugging a computer around. I also like the accessibility of Canvas in the mobile app form.  It is a little easier to just check my phone as opposed to checking my computer for messages or grade updates.  Overa

A Poem for Krishna Boy who made Jumna crave to hold your infant-self in the throes of maternity, did you miss the waters? Narcissus perched upon your uncle’s shoulder, but it was the voice of your God who revealed prophetic death to ears unable to hear. Your mother, victim of fear, pushed from her womb seven still-born babes to give birth to you. Death, death, death,             it goes before you             like a careful herald,             worn but eager             to announce you. Boy who holds mountains on his finger-tip, did you miss the rain? There was no understanding between Boy and Thunder, both crackling light in a shepherd's eyes. Lambs follow the sound of the herder’s voice, but also reshape themselves at the bark of the wolf. Which one were you? Which was the Boy? Which was the Savior? Who condemned the Old Gods and hanged ancient prayers by their golden necks? Death, deat