| There was this monk. He was still in how-to-be-a-monk school. Every day he sat in a large hall with thousands of other trainee monks. They were students. They were there to learn. When they were ready, they would graduate and become, well, monks. They studied and prayed and fasted, and fasted and prayed and studied; but nobody ever graduated just from studying and praying and fasting, and fasting and praying and studying. (By the way, even though you can say that a fast is slow, fasting is not even close to slowing.) The way this monk found out how they graduated was when he worked as a fish friar. He was new, so he asked the other guy, the chip monk, how they graduated. The other guy said, "I don't know, but it has something to do with what happens on your anniversary." See, every year on the anniversary of their arrival, each monk would approach the teacher. At that time the teacher would ask a question. One question. It was always the same question. "Why should I allow you to pass?" Each year, this monk would recite the list of things he had done. Stuff like how many times did he talk in tongues, number of converts, non-sports-related miracles. Well, he knew six languages to begin with; so nobody ever believed that he was speaking in tongues. And converts? They didn't get to go anywhere; so who could he convert? Everybody was a monk already. But the non-sports-related miracles part hurt. That was the only kind they allowed since Barney Felcher had a heart attack sliding into third. The medical staff declared him dead on the spot and were ready to cart him away, when he suddenly jumped up and stole home. While this was ruled a miracle, the opposing team argued that it was still cheating to steal home after you are declared dead. And when somebody yells cheating, you have to convene the rules committee which isn't easy even though you pay dues and when you complain, they start talking about taking away scholarships. So they didn't want to go through that hassle anymore; and now they only accept non-sports related miracles. Too bad, because his specialty was the prayer wheel. He had a doozy about keeping his candles lit while he spun two prayer wheels and balanced a keg of holy water on his chin. So, anyway, the teacher would ask, "Why should I let you pass? And some years, he would say "Because I studied hard, even the stuff at the bottom of the page that explains the other stuff. And other times, he would show pictures of himself in the yearbook: decorations committee of the Walking on Water fun run, the hair shirt fundraiser, band. And so it went. But no matter how he answered, he was never allowed to pass. Why? He didn't know. He just didn't know. "Why should I let you pass?" "Why should I let you pass?" "Why should I let you pass?'' Of course, he eventually answered correctly. If he didn't, there wouldn't be a story. What did he say? He said, "Because I deserve it." And they opened the door and let him through. Okay, so that was a long story about little, but it has a point. Are you confident of your abilities? If you believe in yourself, you have the battle half won. The power of positive thinking is a force to be reckoned with. Do you think you deserve to pass? Are you ready for success? Are you ready? Are you?
Damn straight, you're ready
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