Lifewizard Way Workbook
Copyright and licensing terms by which you may reproduce this work even
for profit.
This book consists of a preview of the forthcoming book Faith, Foster and
the Lifewizard Way along with an 8-page workbook that you can reproduce
and use to collect answers to insightful questions. These questions will
help you identify wise adults and peers who can help you grow so you can
realize your potential and adapt to a changing world.
This work is copyright 2020 by Viral Virtue, Inc., a New Jersey
corporation with a mission to make viral the idea that we should all do
the right thing. Inspire others to do the right thing by setting a good
example. Visit: ViralVirtue.com.
This work is licensed to you under a Creative Commons Attribution -
NonCommercial - NoDerivatives 4.0 International license. This means you do
not need our permission to reproduce this work as long as you give us
credit, you give it away and you do not modify it. Explanation here:
[1]
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/
Because this workbook is especially useful for prompting discussion during
this global COVID-19 global time out, we hereby further modify this
license to allow the sale of this book as follows:
If you have a job that puts you at risk to the COVID-19 virus, you have
lost a job or lost income because of the virus, you own a business that
has been negatively impacted, or you have the virus yourself then you may
reproduce this work and sell it at a profit and keep all the profits for
yourself. Or you can give it as thank-you gifts to people who give you
money. Either way is fine by us.
If you do not qualify as one of the individuals then you may still sell
this book in printed form but you may not keep more than 15% of profits
for yourself and the rest must go to one or more of the people listed
above, or to a charity of your choice.
For example, if you haven’t been impacted by the virus but your parents
have then if you produce the book for $3 and sell it for $10 then you have
a $7 profit. You may give all $7 to your parents, or you can keep up to
$1.05 for yourself and give them the rest.
Note: It is possible that there are income tax consequences of accepting
money in exchange for this work that we give to you. This depends on your
circumstances. If there is any doubt you should consult an advisor because
we take no responsibility for any consequences of how you use or
distribute this work.
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
Hi there! My name is Faith.
On March 1, 2020 two things happened that will change the world forever.
Are you ready?
March 1, 2020 was the day we learned that the coronavirus had killed its
first American victim. The New York Times said there was going to be a
pandemic. The President said there was no reason to panic. They were both
right.
The second important thing about that day? It was when my friend, Foster,
and I started decoding an ancient Chinese document called The Lifewizard
Way. In it we learned how to find wise, un-panicky adults who can help us
make sense of this suddenly strange new world.
I’ll let Foster pick up the story from here.
March 7, 2020
The man who opened the door of the Chinese-American Playful Friendship
Society looked neither Chinese nor friendly. He dwarfed Gramps and could
have weighed more than Faith, Gramps, and me combined.
The giant’s lips curled into a sneer. He glared down his nose at Gramps.
“What do you want?”
Gramps recoiled with a look on his face like he might actually pee
himself.
Faith just smiled, and chirped. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. I’m Faith,
this kid is Foster…”
“Hey!” I blurted “Quit calling me a kid! I’m thirteen, already.”
“…and he,” Faith said, tugging on Gramps’ sleeve, “is Gramps. We want…”
Gramps scowled and yanked his arm away from her grip. “I’m not your
grandfather,” he snapped. “And Foster, you can stop calling me that, too.
I’m not your grandfather either. I just want you both to call me by my
first name.”
“I can’t do that,” I said. “It sounds like a girl’s name.”
Faith sighed. “OK, OK, Gramps! Whatever.”
Our voices echoed off the concrete walls. The Chinese-American Playful
Friendship Society was in a basement, down a set of stairs, at the end of
a hallway – More creepy than playful.
But Faith looked up at the ogre like he was a hill she intended to climb.
“What we want is…”
Peering around the man’s legs, I could see through the open door. It was a
large room with square tables scattered about, restaurant style. Around
the tables there were folding chairs and in the chairs sat old people,
many Chinese-looking but some other races, too. It seemed like they were
playing a game with tiles that looked like dominoes except they were
white.
Then I noticed they had all stopped playing and every face in the room had
turned toward the door. The whole place was looking at us. Then, just as
quickly, they all began grabbing piles of money off the tables and
stuffing it all into their pockets.
Faith had leaned to the man’s other side to see what I was looking at.
“Hey! What’s going on in there?”
“None of your business.”
The man’s lips curled again, showing yellowed teeth. There was spit at the
corners of his mouth. He stuck his ugly face close to Gramps and said,
“What do you want?”
I caught a whiff of his foul breath. Gramps made a face like he was about
to gag.
“We’re looking for Mr. Wong,” I said.
“Never heard of him,” the man replied with a dismissive wave. “Now get
lost or you’ll be sorry.”
He turned and went back inside, slamming the door in our faces. The three
of us hurried down the hallway and up the stairs, back to the safety of
the sidewalk and Mott Street, in the middle of Chinatown.
Faith, who is hard to scare, said, “That was scary.”
Gramps shook his head. “This isn’t worth it. Let’s go home.”
I shrugged. “I’m with Gramps.”
“No,” Faith said. “I’ve solved every puzzle my dad has ever given me. I’m
not going to let him down now.”
“But …your dad’s dead,” I said. “You couldn’t let him down if you wanted
to.” It wasn’t the most helpful thing to say. It just came out.
Faith winced. Her eyes flooded and her cheeks flushed.
“That’s low. Don’t make me hate you.” She looked away. That’s one thing I
don’t like about girls. They cry when they hate you. They should just hit
you. Then you’d know what to do.
When she turned back her nose was a little red but she was sort of
grinning. “You know what? You guys are cowards. What can he do to us?”
“For sure, kill us with his breath,” I suggested.
“Did you see those hands?” said Gramps. “He could pop my head like a
pimple.”
Faith folded her arms and her eyes narrowed. “How did we get here,
anyway?”
We were on a mission. The man at the antiques shop said he only deals in
furniture and art so he told us that Mr. Wong on Mott Street could help
us. Faith had some old documents her mom gave her that had belonged to her
dad. We wanted to find someone who could explain them to us.
Now what? We all stared at the pavement for a moment while Chinatown
bustled around us. Seemed like we’d hit a dead end.
“Let’s take a vote,” I suggested. “Who thinks we should just catch the
next ferry boat home and forget about it?”
Gramps nodded right away. “An excellent idea. I second that motion.”
Faith glared at Gramps, then at me. Then her face crumpled and the tears
really began. “I don’t believe you two. You’re both cowards. Anyway,
you’re overruled. I’m going back in.”
She turned and dashed back down the stairs.
Gramps yelled after her, into the concrete echo chamber. “How do you think
you’re gonna get home on your own, young lady?”
Faith hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, and then shouted. “I’ll solve
that problem later, old man. Right now I’m going to find Mr. Wong.” She
disappeared through the doorway.
I looked at Gramps. He looked at me. We were both clueless.
“How is Faith going to get home alone?”
“She can’t,” he said. “She doesn’t have any money.”
“So, now what do we do?”
Gramps sighed. “We’ll just have to wait for her, I guess.”
I had a bad feeling about that place, and about Faith being in danger.
“I’m going back in there too, Gramps. You can wait for both of us.”
I dashed off to catch up.
February 29, 2020
Okay, I guess the first thing you should know is that two years ago, when
I was in fifth grade, my mom killed herself. Now that I’ve said it I
really don’t want to talk about it.
It was just really hard and my dad thought it would be better if I did
sixth grade in one of those fancy private schools. I flunked.
Going back to public school was okay. I was repeating the year and had
seen most of the lessons before. I was a year older than the other kids so
I was able to stand out in gym class.
That’s one thing I like — sports. I also like writing, which I have in
common with my dad. He works as a writer and he’s really good about
helping me get better at it.
After I’m done with school I want to be a soldier like my mom was and a
writer like my dad. I could be a soldier who writes about war; who doesn’t
want to read about war:
We live in a decrepit two-story apartment house in New Jersey in a small
town that overlooks the bay where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Hudson
River — New York Harbor. There are four apartments, two on each floor.
My dad and I live on the first floor. Faith and her mother, Hope, live
above us. Gramps lives across the hall from them. He’s really old, in his
60’s anyway. His wife was killed in a car crash five years ago. He was so
broken up over it that he hasn’t worked since. Sometimes I’ve felt that
hopeless, like after my mom died.
Below Gramps, on the first floor across from us, is Bonnie’s apartment.
Bonnie owns the building. She’s older than Gramps. I’m pretty sure she was
a hippie back in the day cause she’s a really old hippie now.
The place is so run down because Bonnie doesn’t charge us all enough rent
to pay for repairs. She always says, “I believe poor people should be able
to live in beautiful places, too.” I don’t think about whether we’re poor
or not, especially when I can walk out on our deck and enjoy a
million-dollar view of New York City.
My dad is Puerto Rican, born in New York, but he can easily pass for
European. My mom was a quarter Japanese, half African-American, and a
quarter Indonesian. She enlisted in the army when she graduated from
junior college. She got promotions and made it to sergeant major before
she killed herself. Like I said before, I don’t want to talk about it.
My dad says I’m a mutt. I have curly jet black hair and kind of a
permanent tan. Some people treat me like I’m exotic and try to guess my
genetic mix.
Last August Faith and her mom, Hope, moved into the apartment above my dad
and me. I hardly ever saw her except in class and once in a while on the
stairs.
We’re both in Ms. Rieur’s sixth grade class. The way to pronounce her name
is “RE-your.” Ms. Rieur is such a great teacher; the best I’ve ever had.
That doesn’t mean I like school, but I like her.
When school started last September, I didn’t know much about Faith other
than her hair was blonde from a summer spent in the sun and it got darker
in the fall. She kept to herself and she was a really good student. Too
good. She always had the answers and that made the rest of us look bad. I
didn’t hate her, but I didn’t like her much.
The week before we went looking for Mr. Wong in New York City, Faith’s mom
invited my dad and me to their apartment. It was Faith’s twelfth year of
life, but only her third actual birthday. She was born in a leap year, on
the 29th of February.
Faith wasn’t my friend so I didn’t want to go. All my friends are guys and
none of them were friends with her either. But dad said that since the
poor girl didn’t have any friends, not even other girls, we should go.
There wasn’t time to go buy a gift. So I looked around my bedroom to see
if there was anything I had that I could use as a present. I immediately
latched on to a toy AK-47 machine gun that someone gave me. It was green
and orange plastic and looked lame, a toy for a baby. I never even opened
the box so it still looked brand new. I wrapped it up to give to Faith.
“Really weird gift for a girl,” my dad said.
“You’re stereotyping,” I said. “They told us at school you’re not supposed
to do that. Besides, Mom was a soldier.”
That had nothing to do with why I gave Faith the green and orange plastic
AK-47. It was because I hated it and figured I’d save a couple of dollars
I’d have spent on something even more lame.
There were twice as many adults as kids at Faith’s big leap year birthday
party. The parents ignored the kids, and everyone ignored Faith. I mostly
talked to Stuart, the only friend of mine who was there.
Finally it was time to blow out the candles and open her presents, which
Faith did without much enthusiasm. When she opened mine she started to
cry.
“I’d rather be dead than twelve!” she bawled. She ran to her room and
slammed the door. Her mom tried to talk her out but Faith just kept
shouting, “Go away!”
So everyone did.
Back downstairs in my bedroom, which was right below Faith’s, I could hear
her mother pleading, “Come on, baby, it’s okay. Just let me in.” And then,
later, in a sharper tone, “Listen here, young lady. You open this door
right now.”
Finally, “Okay. If that is the way it is you’re not getting any dinner.”
Dad went down to The Sudsey Pitcher on Fourth Street to get something to
eat and probably flirt with a waitress there that he liked. I made a
sandwich for myself and got the idea to make a second one for Faith.
I didn’t really want to knock on their door and have an awkward moment
with her mother. Instead I climbed up some sturdy vines that had taken
over the back wall of the building.
I peered through the glass of Faith’s window.. She was on her bed, lying
on her back, arms folded, staring at the ceiling. When I knocked on the
window pane she bolted upright, looked at me, and mouthed something I
couldn’t hear, probably WTF.
She got off the bed and was laughing as she came toward the window. Her
mouth was still moving but I couldn’t hear a word, even though she looked
like she was shouting.
“Open the friggin’ window!” I yelled.
She did and her lips were still moving but no sound was coming out. Then
she began laughing kind of hysterically. It was totally weird.
“What are you trying to say?”
“I haven’t been trying to say anything,” said Faith. “I’ve just been
moving my lips. I was trying to get you to yell ‘Open the friggin’
window.’ So, mission accomplished.” Then she laughed some more.
WTF?
“I’m sorry. I’m laughing at you. It’s not fair. Anyway, the answer is no.”
“No? The answer is ‘no’ to what?”
“No, I won’t marry you,” she said. “I assume you’ve brought me roses or
something, climbing up to my window like some kind of Romeo, and going to
ask me to marry you. So the answer is ‘no’. I hardly know you and I refuse
your hand in marriage.’”
Clutching the sill with one hand, I held out the sandwich with the other.
“I don’t know what the heck you’re talking about but here. I made you a
ham sandwich.”
“OK,” she said brightly. “In that case, the answer is ‘yes.’”
“Here,” I said, holding out the sandwich, “Take it.”
“Why?”
“Because I offered you a ham sandwich and you said ‘Yes.’”
“No,” she said, “You didn’t offer me a ham sandwich. You said you made me
a ham sandwich. I didn’t say ‘yes’ to the ham sandwich because you didn’t
ask me if I wanted it.
“And I’ve reconsidered my other answer. It would be my pleasure to marry
you. Roses are a cliché, but a ham sandwich? That’s something. Nothing is
better than complete happiness in life. And, a ham sandwich is better than
nothing. Why would I turn down a marriage proposal from a cute kid who’s
offering me something better than complete happiness in life?”
This girl is crazy, I thought. “You’re crazy, you know. I’m not going to
marry you.” I should have left it at that and retreated back down the
vines to my room. But there was something about her that kept me there.
“Of course we’re not going to marry! Not now. We’re too young. That comes
in Act Three. This is Act One.”
I didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know what to say.”
“No problem, my dad and I invented a game exactly for this situation. Want
to learn?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Of course not.” She winked. “The game is called Lines. As in lines in a
play or a movie. When actors forget what they’re supposed to say next,
there’s a person with the script who sits down front, at the foot of the
stage where the audience can’t see them but the actors can. This person is
called a prompter.
“The prompter has a copy of the script in case one of the actors forgets
the next thing to say. The actor whispers, “Line,” and the prompter
whispers the next words they’re supposed to say from the script.
“Whenever my dad and I would talk, if one of us didn’t know what to say
next, we’d just say, “Line,” and the other one would tell them what they
could say and we’d keep talking. This is a perfect situation for playing
Line.”
“I have no idea what you just said.”
“Of course not. That’s because you’re an idiot. But don’t worry. I’ll
never give up on you because you are my idiot; the man I’ll marry one day.
And you look like an idiot hanging on to those vines outside my window.”
My head was spinning. “I really don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
“Good. So that’s when you’re supposed to say, ‘Line.’”
“Okay. Line.”
“Good. Your next line is, ‘May I come in?’ Don’t mess it up. Just say the
words. ‘May I come in?’”
I felt stupid but I was trapped. “I don’t know why I am saying this but,
‘May I come in?’”
She glared. “You don’t know why you are saying it? I just explained.
Obviously you live a life without purpose. Let me give you one. Your
purpose is to make me happy.”
“What the…?”
“Your goal is to make me happy. And, in order to make me happy you must
not make me angry. Now repeat what I just said.”
I clung to the vines regretting the impulse to make her that dumb
sandwich. The only way out was to play along while I planned an escape.
“Go ahead,” Faith insisted. “Say it!”
“Okay, okay! Mygoalistomakeyouhappy and…. I can’t remember the rest.”
She huffed impatiently. “‘And in order to do that I must never ever make
you angry.’”
I was embarrassed and a hot wave of anger surged through me. But when I
repeated her words, I felt kind of good. It was weird and confusing.
“Good,” Faith said triumphantly. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Another
rule of the game is that you must not always do what I say. If you do, I
won’t respect you. Every so often you must make me angry. Otherwise it’s
no fun.”
“That’s just…That’s crazy! You’re not making any sense.”
“Who cares,” she shrugged “Do you like football? Those rules don’t make
any sense either. They are just rules. This game’s no fun if the other
person doesn’t make you angry every so often. That’s because of the next
rule, which is that if you make someone angry you have to make it up to
them.”
“What game is this,” I said sarcastically.
“It’s called Marriage,” she said, all matter-of-fact. “Actually, it’s
technically Pre-Marital Marriage since we aren’t yet married. Afterwards,
when we’re married, it’s just called Marriage. But you have to be good at
Pre-Marital Marriage first or marriage is no fun.”
It felt like I’d been hanging on to the vine listening to this nonsense
forever, and the vine was starting to peel away from the bricks. I had to
hold onto the sill or risk falling and probably break my neck.
For some reason — it just popped into my head — I said, “This is where you
need a good line.”
“What!” Her eyes widened.
“You heard me. ‘Repeat after me,’ right? Say it. Say, ‘Line.’”
“Line.”
I suddenly felt righteous. “Your line is, ‘Of course, you can come in. I
was wondering when you would ask.’”
She laughed. “Of course you can come in. I was wondering when you would
ask.”
To get in through her window I had to push against the vine and that made
it tear away from the bricks. I just made it in the window as it fell into
the yard with a soft swoosh, making a racket as it knocked over some
garbage cans.
Faith helped pull me in but then she fell backward and I tumbled into the
room, right on top of her, with a loud “Oof!”
Instead of pushing me off, she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed.
Geez! The only people who ever hugged me in my whole life were my mom and
my grandmother. This was different.
I stuttered, and then I remembered. “Line.”
I could feel her breath on my neck.
“Your line is, ‘Unhand me you fool.’”
“Unhand me you fool.”
“But, you’re the fool,” she teased. “You’re on top of me.”
I rolled off and lay beside her in silence. She said nothing. Out of
nowhere, hot tears began to quiver in my eyes. I felt ashamed, insulted,
exposed. I wasn’t into girls yet. But I really wanted Faith to like me. I
was multiple kinds of embarrassed.
We lay next to each other on the floor like that for what felt like
forever. All the energy drained out of me. I was just really, really
tired.
Then I felt Faith hand stroking my hair. I turned to look at her. Her eyes
were wet, too.
Finally she said, “The rules of Pre-Marital Marriage work both ways. My
goal is to make you happy, and I must not make you angry. But, I just did,
so now I must make it up to you.”
She hadn’t done anything yet, but just hearing her say that made me feel
safe, even happy. In fact, I cannot remember ever being happier,
especially not after what’s happened since.
We gazed into each other’s faces until there was a loud knock on her
bedroom door.
“Honey?” It was her mother’s muffled voice. “You Okay?”
“I’m fine,” she called out. “Don’t worry.”
“I heard a lot of noise. Are you sure? Is everything okay?”
“I just said everything is fine.”
“And, I heard someone yell something. About opening a window.”
“You must have been hearing things. It’s nothing.”
A long pause. Then her mother said. “Honey, I’m sure it was ‘things.’ That
kid from downstairs was just hanging outside your window.”
“Whatever, Mom.”
“It looked like you were having a conversation. I thought to myself,
‘Isn’t that nice!’ But now Bonnie’s vines are all over the backyard and
there’s trash everywhere.”
“Where is this going, Mom?” Faith rolled her eyes.
“I just don’t want to find out tomorrow that that boy spent the night in
your room.”
“Oh-kay, Mom.”
“Thanks, dear. I know I can count on you.”
Faith mouthed, She’s crazy.
“Oh, and by the way, honey. You ran away from the party before I could
give you a special present. Your dad left it for me to give you — on your
twelfth birthday. I have no idea what it is. I remember he told me it was
something he got from his grandmother and it was some kind of big secret.
I’ll just leave it here by the door.”
After we heard her footsteps receding Faith got up and went to the door.
She slowly opened it just a crack, enough to reach out and grab a large,
fat envelope.
I sat up. “What was that all about?”
“My mom said that you can spend the night with me.”
I barked a laugh. “Nuh-uh! I just heard her.”
She shook her head. “You heard. But you didn’t understand. She said she
didn’t want to find out tomorrow morning that you spent the night. Now
we’re playing a game called Plausible Deniability.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Oh, everyone plays that game all the time,” she said. “Just most people
don’t know it. See, my dad was a game designer back before he got cancer.
He was big into understanding the games people play. You’ll see.
“You’ll spend the night with me, and then tomorrow morning you’ll have to
go home through the living room since you can’t go back the way you came.
I’ll ask my mom if she needs to run an errand. Then she’ll leave and you
can go home through the front door.”
“You’re completely crazy and I’m not spending the night with some girl.
I’ve got to go home.”
“Fine. Leave.”
I followed her eyes to the window and then to the door. It was like she
was reading my mind. I did not want to explain myself to her mom. “What am
I going to do?”
“You are going to stay here tonight, then in the morning you are going to
go home.”
“But, what if I don’t want to stay?”
“You don’t always get what you want. If you stay the night then I’ll get
what I want, so at least one of us will be happy.”
“But, what about me,” I said, “I want to be happy, too.”
She looked me right in the eyes. Hers were bright blue, like miniature
earths. I started to get tingly feelings down my back. I looked away and
the feelings went away. I looked back at her and she was still looking at
me, so I looked away again. This time the tingling didn’t stop. Faith was
really cute.
That new feeling was kinda nice, like when you open a present that’s
exactly what you were hoping for but didn’t expect. It was like that, only
it kept rolling on.
Faith shook me out of the zone. “Are you done yet?”
“Am I done with what?”
“Are you done with whatever is going on in there?” She poked my forehead
with her index finger.
“What?” My shame and embarrassment was starting to melt away. I was
feeling kind of feisty now.
“It would make me happy if you stayed,” she said. “And I know it would
make you happy if you left. Now since I want to make you happy, it would
also make me happy if you left. Either way, I’m happy if you stay and I’m
happy if you go, or if I never see you again — if that’s what will make
you happy.
“You see, I’m a happy-go-lucky girl, and by that I mean I am lucky that
you have made me happy, so you can go. So, don’t worry about me. Are you
following this?”
No. “Yes, I’m following you,” I said. I didn’t want any more sentences to
try to untangle, or to have to learn yet another weird game. But the
tingle persisted. She really was pretty. But the look on her face warned
me, Uh-oh! Here she goes again!
“Now, just so you understand,” she said. “This means that whatever
happens, you will have fulfilled your life’s purpose, which I need not
remind you is to make me happy. Even if you leave right now, you can live
a full life knowing that if I die in the morning and you aren’t here to
witness it, then you will still have made me happy.”
All I could do was sigh. Trying to follow her was wearing me out!
We both fell silent. Faith now was acting 100% like a girl — no one could
possibly understand what was going on in her head, least of all me. I was
trapped and confused so I kept my mouth shut. I figured anything I might
say would just start another twisted idea or game.
Finally she piped up. “Now, your next line is, ‘Line.’”
Sigh. “OK. Line.” The tingling got stronger.
“Your line is, ‘Go on.’ In these circumstances you should never say
anything except ‘Go on.’ That’s a game my dad and I came up with. It’s
called Go On. You need to learn when to play Line and when to play Go On
because they are mutually exclusive.”
“Huh?”
“If you play Line when you should be playing Go On you’ll make the other
person angry and you’ll have to make it up to them even though you have no
idea how you ever will, because you can’t. Don’t make me explain it
twice.”
My brain kind of froze. For the longest time I couldn’t think of anything
to say. So I said, “Go on.”
“Good boy,” she said. “You’re learning. My dad says that you can go to
college and get a degree in Go On. Then you can become a psychotherapist
who charges people loads of money just for saying, ‘Go on.’”
I started laughing. I didn’t get the joke but I remembered that after my
mom killed herself I got really sad and wanted to be left alone. Everyone
said I was depressed and for about six months my dad sent me to a doctor
who kept suggesting topics of conversation that didn’t interest me, and
saying things like, “Go on,” when I didn’t want to; and, “That’s very
interesting,” without telling me what “that” was.
Another doctor — a “real” one who told me he didn’t know anything about
sadness — gave me drugs. He and Dr. Go-On were supposed to work together.
All I got was fat.
I quit taking the pills and told my dad I was done with Dr. Go-On. After
that I felt better and got back in shape. My dad said the therapy must
have worked.
Thinking about it all made me sad again. But Faith was smiling at me and I
felt like something wonderful was bursting inside me. The tingling spread
all over my body. I had started out thinking she was a hopeless weirdo.
Now everything she said made me laugh. She was tickling me everywhere,
even my brain.
“Foster?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I have that ham sandwich now? I’m really starving.”
She began to devour it in huge mouths-full.
Her cheeks bulging, she grinned and flashed a thumbs up. “Fank you!”
“No problem. In fact, I was wondering…If you don’t like the gun I brought
you, can I have it back?”
Faith’s mouth was too full to speak. She just gave me a sharp look.
“I mean, you didn’t seem to like it all that much anyway and it’s a fair
enough trade — a sandwich for a machine gun. Right?”
She swallowed to talk. “Wait! You weren’t here to propose marriage? You
just wanted your toy gun back?”
“Well…” My face blazed. “Not exactly.”
Faith nodded. “You mean, exactly yes; that is exactly what you wanted.
Right? Well, the answer is no. You can’t have it back. Because I don’t
have a toy gun and now I really want one.” She was down to the last bite.
“And tomorrow I’ll teach you a cool game we can play with it.”
“No way! Another game? With a green and orange baby assault rifle?”
“You’ll find out. For now, do you think you’ll be okay sleeping on the
floor?”
I panicked for a second. Line? “Sure.” I was tired. I could sleep anywhere
and often did.
The next thing I knew it was the morning of a sunny day.
Faith was already dressed. She shouted at the closed door, “Mom!”
A moment later her mother’s muffled voice answered. “Yes, sweetie?”
“Do you have an errand you need to do or something? Like, now.”
“Line,” her mother replied.
“Your line is, ‘I’m going down to the corner to get some milk and a
newspaper.’”
“Yes. That’s it. I’m going down to the corner to get some milk and a
newspaper.”
We listened for the slam of the front door. Then I walked downstairs to
our apartment where I found my dad snoring on the living room couch. He
must have come home buzzed and fell asleep. Probably never noticed me
being gone.
I took a shower and by the time I was dressed my dad was awake and having
his cereal. “Hey, Foster. Good news. I’ve finally caught a new writing
assignment. The gig is about three weeks and I’ll have to work through the
weekends. And it’s at their office in the city. You gonna be okay on your
own?”
“Sure Dad, I’ll be fine. I always am.”
After he left I got out the notebook where I write down everything that
matters. My dad taught me the habit and I’ve been doing it for three years
now. He said a person can learn a lot from their own life, but if you
don’t take some notes you’ll be so busy living it that you’ll forget what
happened.
“People have interesting lives, whether they think so or not,” he often
reminded me. “Most aren’t paying attention at the time and have no record
they can look back on later to reflect and appreciate. I didn’t really
fall for your mom until I started writing about my impressions of her in
my notebook.”
My dad’s idea about taking notes about your life had sounded like homework
at first. Who cares? Once I started doing it, I realized he was right. And
now I had Faith to write about.
Just the day before I thought of her as just an annoying and strange
person. Now, as I began writing about the stuff she said, and the things
that happened that night — I started to like her; I mean really like her.
March 1, 2020
After I got done with my notes I went back upstairs and knocked on the
door I’d sneaked out of an hour earlier. Her mom answered, smiling.
“Hello, Foster. You’ll be wanting Faith.” I followed her to the kitchen
where Faith was at the table having breakfast.
“Sit down,” said Faith. “You’ll want some French toast. I was guessing
you’d come back so I made extra. Oops! I mean I was hoping that after
yesterday’s party I’d see you again.”
We both looked at Faith’s mom. She was looking at the newspaper but you
could see she was stifling a smile.
“Uh, anything interesting in the news?”
“This is interesting but scary,” her mom said. “There’s a deadly virus
that’s been spreading in China and now it’s come here. The first American
victim just died from it. The President says there’s no reason to panic,
but the New York Times editorial board says there could be a pandemic
coming.”
“What’s a pandemic?”
Just like in school, Faith had the answers and was eager to share. “It’s
like an epidemic that spreads everywhere,” she rattled off. “I’ve got a
game called Pandemic.”
Of course!
I’ll teach it to you and then you’ll understand.”
Damn! I wasn’t done writing in my notebook about the rules for all the
other games. Now there were more?
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll bite. Is it fun?”
She speared another pancake for herself . “That depends. It’s called a
‘cooperative game.’ That means no winner. We don’t play against each
other, we cooperate to see if we can keep the pandemic from killing us
all.” She finished with a toothy grin.
“But without a winner, where’s the fun?”
“Not everything has to be fun.” For a long moment she held my gaze with
her brilliant blue eyes. She smiled. I got those tingles again. “Some
games aren’t fun, but they are important.”
“Uh. Okay.” My head was spinning with word play and games. “Yeah. Okay!”
Faith’s mom broke the spell. “The French toast is good, don’t you think,
Foster?”
I don’t like French toast because of the eggy crust — yuck! But when Faith
said, “You’ll be wanting French Toast,” I really wanted French toast, like
she had read my mind.
“It’s really good,” I said.
Her mom folded the paper and got up to clear the table. “It tastes good
because Faith was thinking of you when she made it.”
Okay. That makes no sense. I like potato chips. They’re made at a factory
where all they think about is making money. But I was starting to get used
to things around Faith not making sense, but then sort of making sense in
a different weird sort of way.
Faith pushed her empty plate away and then plopped a big envelope that
she’d had hidden on her lap. “I don’t want to presuppose you’d want to
help me figure out the puzzle my dad gave me for my birthday.”
Yes? No! Wait! Presuppose? “No, of course I do.” Whatever presuppose
means, I definitely wanted to help her with the puzzle, whatever that was.
Another game?
“Good. I knew I could count on you.” Faith opened the envelope and dumped
the contents on the kitchen table — a huge stack of flats sheets of brown
paper, like the kind used to make paper bags. The sheets had strange
pictures printed in color and symbols in black.
“Okay,” I said, “There’s a problem. It’s in Japanese.”
Faith looked at me and I looked away, but she kept looking at me until I
couldn’t help myself and I looked back.
“Put your hand here on the table between us.”
She put her hand on mine. It felt soft and warm. My neck got hot. I looked
away.
“Look at me,” she said. It took a moment, but finally I did. “I am going
to tell you something that my dad told me that changed my life. When you
understand what he said, it will change your life too. Do you think you
can handle it?”
“Yes,” I croaked with a dry throat.
“You need to know that there are no problems in the world, only puzzles.”
“They’re the same thing.”
“No, they are not the same.” She pressed down on my hand. “Problems are
not fun. Problems are all in your head. Puzzles are fun. Fun is all in
your head. Once you realize that there are no problems, only puzzles, then
the world becomes a lot of fun.”
“Okay.” Not okay, but WTF? “I don’t get it.”
“Okay means you understand and agree. But, if the next thing you say is
that you don’t understand, then nothing makes sense. So I suggest we have
a new game. Okay, What? In this game, the ‘Okay’ means ‘I heard you’ but
the ‘What?’ means I don’t understand.”
“Okay, I really got that.” This was kind of cool and it made me feel
smart.
“See!, You just invented a new game: OK, Got It. To recap, OK What? Means
I heard you but don’t understand and OK, Got it means “I heard you and
understand.” Cool. Anyway, most people think they have problems but they
actually don’t. They have complaints. When someone says, ‘Sally doesn’t
like me,’ that’s a complaint. People have every right to not like you.
“Now, if you like Sally then you might want Sally to like you back, in
which case you might have a problem if she doesn’t. Problems are not
statements; they are questions that can have answers.”
“You mean like, ‘How do I get Sally to like me?’”
“Precisely. That’s technically a problem because it is in the form of a
question that can possibly have an answer.”
“Except, it’s not a problem because I don’t like girls.”
“Foster, I’m a girl. Don’t you want me to like you?”
“Yes. But, you’re different.”
“Correct, and that’s why you are going to marry me someday. Be that as it
may, now I’ve forgotten where we were. Line?”
I hesitated a moment, feeling strangely powerful. “Your line is, ‘Let’s
figure out this puzzle my dad left for me.’”
Faith said, “Let’s figure out this puzzle my dad left for me.”
“Good girl,” I teased. “You’re learning.” Faith chuckled, which thrilled
me. I’d intentionally tried to make her laugh and it worked..
“Let’s start with your idea that the writing is Japanese. Is that true?”
It felt like an accusation. “Are you saying I’m lying?”
“No. I’m not saying you’re lying, I’m saying your hypothesis might be
false, or it might be correct. A hypothesis is a statement that is put
forward as a working assumption but that can be proven false. If your
hypothesis is wrong I’m not saying anything about you, just your
hypothesis.
“You are perfect and that is why some day we’re going to be married. But
your hypothesis could be a load of BS, which is fine. Most science starts
with BS, which is okay as long as that’s not where it ends up.”
“Okay, what?”
“Chemistry isn’t BS, but alchemy is. If you start with alchemy and apply
the scientific method you end up with chemistry, which we call a science
because it uses the scientific method.”
“Okay, got it.”
“See how easy it is. Let’s find out if the writing is Japanese or not.”
“Where did you learn to think like this?”
“My dad taught me last year, when he was dying and he was home-schooling
me. Once you get good at it, learning how to think things through is fun,
and finding the answer to a puzzle is like winning at sports; it feels
really good.”
“That was really good. And so were the pancakes.”
Faith’s mom, Hope, chimed in from where she had been sitting, reading the
paper. “Everything’s better when you add that secret ingredient called
love.”
“That’s a hypothesis,” Faith said. “Foster, you and I will have to try a
scientific experiment. Let’s put love into everything we do and collect
data on the results. That way we can test my mom’s hypothesis.”
“Go on.”
Faith went to her bedroom and returned with a laptop computer. She looked
up the Wikipedia entry for the Japanese language. Then she selected one of
the pieces of paper with the strange writing on it. I took a photo of it
with my smartphone so you can see it too.
Faith scanned the Wikipedia entry, reading aloud the main points.
“Japanese is actually written with many different alphabets. Kanji is
based on Chinese and the characters look complex. There are two other
alphabets they use — Hiragana and Katakana — which are simpler. I’d revise
your hypothesis to say it is probably either Japanese or Chinese, although
I guess there is a chance other languages look similar.”
She did some searching and then she picked up her phone and downloaded the
Google Translate app. She pointed her phone’s camera at the document and
took a snapshot so I can show you what it looked like.
“Wow, this is awesome,” Faith said. “My dad was great at making up puzzles
with so many levels to them. At first, it looks like total gibberish; I
love it.”
“OK. What?” I said.
“The app says it’s Chinese, so it probably is. Then it says ‘Do what I
do.’ My dad used to say, ‘Do what I do, not what I say.’ He said most
people say, ‘Do what I say, not what I do.’
“He said it the other way around because most people do stupid things and
they know it, which means they know what the right thing is to do. If a
parent smokes cigarettes and they know it’s unhealthy, they’ll tell their
kids, ‘Don’t smoke. Do what I say, not what I do.’
“My dad thought that was dumb. Someone who smokes a pack a day is saying
by their actions, ‘Smoking is okay.’ They might say it is bad only a few
times a year, usually only when they catch their kids smoking.
“My dad didn’t smoke. But one night he reached in his shirt pocket and
pulled out a cigarette. He said he wanted to see what it’s like to smoke
so he bummed it from a friend. He lit it, took a puff, and then crushed it
out on his plate.
“He said, ‘Now I have taken one puff and that is enough for a lifetime. Do
what I do, not what I say.’
“So I took the cigarette off his plate and relit it. I took one puff,
said, ‘Now I have taken one puff and that is good enough for a lifetime,’
and put it out.
“My dad was proud of me and kissed me on the forehead. He and mom never
said they were proud of me because they believed pride is a sin and
parental pride is a pernicious sin.
Gotta look up ‘pernicious.’
“But when they kissed me on the forehead, I knew it meant they were
proud.”
I’d smoked perhaps a few dozen cigarettes in my life because my friends
said they don’t harm you if you smoke only every so often. But the thought
occurred to me that maybe I should do what Faith does rather than what my
friends say.
Faith stared at her phone. “You know, I’m thinking my dad might have made
up this puzzle himself. Google Translate is using the little ‘i’ instead
of the big ‘I.’ I don’t know how he got Google to do that because I don’t
think there is a word in the English language that is just the letter “i”
in lowercase.
This time I was not surprised to hear Faith say, “My dad and I had another
game called Big I or little i. The idea is that each of us are really two
people; the person we pretend to be and the person we really are. We’d say
that the “Big I” refers to the pretend person and the “little i” refers to
the person we really are.
“For example, my dad and I might be going for a walk and he’d start
talking about something I find embarrassing. I might say, ‘I need to go to
the bathroom.’ He might say, ‘Big I or little i?’
He meant, Is there something else you want and pretending to need to go to
the bathroom is just an excuse, or do you really need to go?’ I might say,
‘Little i finds this conversation embarrassing and wants a break.’ Or,
“Little i needs to find a toilet soon or I’ll wet my pants.”
She peered at her Google translation screen closely.
“Look at the second line: ‘What’s the matter.’ There’s no question mark.
When I was upset he would ask, ‘What’s the matter?’ If I told him about
something I didn’t like he’d say, ‘That’s the complaint. Now, what’s the
problem?’
“That’s how he would get me to formulate my complaint in the form of a
question that could possibly have an answer. Then he’d ask, ‘Where’s the
fun?’ Once you had a problem formed as a question, he said all you needed
to do is figure out how to have fun answering it. Then the problem becomes
a puzzle.”
“Okay, got it.”
“So, ‘What’s the matter’ is really my father asking me to state the
problem, which in this case is, ‘What is he trying to tell me?’ and,
‘Where’s the fun?’”
“Yeah,” I said. “Where is the fun? I want to know.”
“Is this fun so far?”
“I have to admit it is fun so far. but there’s no guarantee that it will
be forever. I’m suspicious.”
“Suspicious? The thing that makes this fun is that we don’t have to worry
because it isn’t like a homework assignment; nothing bad will happen if we
quit when it stops being fun. Now, let’s take a break and go outside and
play”
In just two days I had more to write about in my notebook than just about
everything that had happened to me since my mom died. Faith was making me
look at things in different ways. For the first time in my life I had
faith — Faith! — in my future.
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
Hey there, Foster here.
This workbook began with Faith saying “On March 1, 2020 two things
happened that will change the world forever. Are you ready?”
I know I wasn’t. As I told you above, I take notes on my life and then
when interesting things happen my dad helps me rewrite it so that you
might find my story more fun to read.
He helped me with everything you’ve read so far but there is an awful lot
that he hasn’t helped me with because he’s gotten sick with the
coronavirus.
Just so you have a vague idea of what’s happened, after Sunday, March 1,
we played some more and then she and I did homework together. Bonnie and
Gramps came over and, along with Hope, all of us made dinner. They even
got me to cook potatoes, which is dead simple since all I did was boil
them and then mash them.
Sunday is usually “pizza night” for my dad and me. It’s kind of special
because we seldom eat together, but we always have pizza together on
Sunday night. However, this particular Sunday dinner was extra special
because even though we didn’t have pizza, my dad joined us and we all had
a big fancy home cooked meal together that I helped make.
The rest of the week I spent a lot of time with Faith. We studied
together, we played together, and we continued to try to solve the puzzle
her dad left her. Gramps and Bonnie came every night to cook. If Faith and
I didn’t have too much homework we helped too. When Hope and my dad got
home from work they would join us. The way Hope and my dad talked to each
other was much better than how he normally interacts with the waitress at
the Sudsy Pitcher.
It felt wonderful. It is almost like I was part of a big happy family. It
would have been great if it lasted.
On Saturday, March 7, Gramps took us into Chinatown to find someone who
reads Chinese. Eventually, we found Mr. Wong who told us that the
documents we had were not something Faith’s dad had made up. They were, in
fact, an authentic copy of something called The Lifewizard Way, which was
an ancient set of 54 questions from before the time Christ was born. Back
then children asked the adults The Lifewizard questions to help them
identify which ones were wise and worth listening to, and which were best
ignored.
Mr. Wong translated the first eight of these questions for us. It turns
out Google translate got it all wrong.
Mr. Wonbg said that many collectors of documents have heard of The
Lifewizard Way, but nobody has ever seen an actual copy. That’s why Faith
could probably sell it for more than a million dollars. Wow!
That was exciting, but then Mr. Wong said something very scary. He said
that having good answers to the 54 questions can make you very powerful
and even wealthy. That’s why people who are already rich and powerful want
it suppressed. Some of them might stop at nothing to keep The Lifewizard
Way from ever seeing the light of day. They might even kill Faith and
destroy her documents.
When we got home, Faith and I started collecting answers to those first
eight questions from all the adults we knew, starting with my dad, Hope,
Gramps and Bonnie. It was really interesting; each of them had different
philosophies of life. That meant they had different answers to the same
questions.
In school the following week Faith showed the eight questions to Ms.
Rieur. She thought they were wonderful. She made up a Lifewizard Way
Workbook and on Monday, March 16, she gave a copy to each of the students
in class and told them to spend a week asking the questions of as many
adults as they could find.
But, on that same day, the Governor of New Jersey announced that all the
schools would be closed on Wednesday and everyone had to work from home.
Faith asked Ms. Rieur if she would be willing to put the workbook up on
the internet so that students all over the world could ask the same
questions of their parents, relatives and adult friends.
I pointed out to Faith that Mr. Wong said that powerful people didn’t want
the questions to get out and it might get her killed. She said, “I’m not
afraid to die. If I were I’d have a hard time crossing the street.
Besides, if everyone knows the questions then if I get killed it won’t
stop anything; they’ll just have made me a martyr for the cause, which is
the last thing anyone wants.”
Faith is the most amazing person I’ve ever met, don’t you think?
Anyway, I’ve also got to tell you about my dad. On March 11 I got a sore
throat and a fever. I went to a doctor and she said it could be the
coronavirus, but she didn’t have a test so she couldn’t be sure.
I got better the next day but over the weekend my dad got sick and it hit
him really hard. By then the hospitals were full so he is at home. I’m
afraid he is going to die and the worst thing is that if I gave it to him
that means I killed him.
I feel terrible.
Hope says I need faith. Faith says I need hope. Gramps and Bonnie say that
they will take care of me no matter what so I don’t need to worry. They
all say worrying is a waste of time. I don’t agree. If I don’t worry then
it means I don’t care and I won’t figure out what to do.
They all say that what we have to do is give my dad the will to live. He
lost his job and they won’t pay him for the work he already did. He’s
saying things like, “This might be for the best because even though we
don’t have any savings or health insurance, at least I have life
insurance.” I hate it when he talks like that.
Ms. Rieur had a brilliant idea. She said that if I combine my story with
her Lifewizard Workbook, then maybe I can sell it and make some money for
the family. Faith said that we could make a website and give it to
everyone in the world who has been hurt by this virus so they could do the
same.
That’s what we’ve done.
Now it’s your turn.
What do you want to do?
Bye for now.
–- Foster
P.S. Would you like to hear how this story ends? My dad says that if he
recovers he’ll be happy to help me put the story into publishable form. He
says that then we’ll need an agent. I’m not sure what an agent does, but
if you are one then please write to me and tell me what you do. I’m at:
[2]
[email protected].
P.P.S. I should tell you that I got help with creating this book from
Brooke Allen, who claims that the whole idea of The Lifewizard Way is a
product of his imagination. I don’t believe him and you shouldn’t either.
Foster Winans helped with editing and layout. Jingyu Sui and Matt Allen
helped with illustrations.
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
Hi there. I’m Ms. Jacqueline Rieur and I teach sixth grade.
I’d like to speak as a professional to the teachers and parents who might
use this workbook with young people.
To understand how the questions presented in The Lifewizard Way can be of
help to a young person it is useful to learn about Erik Erikson’s theory
of “psycho-social development.” If you haven’t heard of it then a good
place to start is to look it up in Wikipedia.
Erikson proposes that from age 12-19 adolescents should be given freedom
to experiment during a time that he refers to as a “moratorium.” The
American Psychological Association defines this as “…the experimental
period of adolescence in which, during the task of discovering who one is
as an individual separate from family of origin and as part of the broader
social context, young people try out alternative roles before making
permanent commitments to an identity. Adolescents who are unsuccessful at
negotiating this stage risk confusion over their role in life.”
For this reason, I think it is vital that young people must not feel they
are under any pressure to answer the questions of The Lifewizard Way.
Instead, you can help them solicit answers from the adults around them.
Here are some suggestions:
Give people time to answer. Don’t put them on the spot.
Ask for a story. Stories are better than theoretical answers.
Encourage conversation in the context of current events. Making answers
relevant makes them more memorable.
Don’t expect a young person to do what you wouldn’t. Remember, Faith’s dad
said: “Do what I do, not what I say.”
Ask lots of people. Encourage people collecting answers to these questions
to ask lots of people. These might include: Parents, Grandparents, Other
relatives, Teachers, Mentors, Neighbors, Friends, Strangers
Have fun. Fun is pleasure with surprise. Keep it pleasant and the answers
you collect will be surprising.
Write down the answers that you collect. You’ll forget if you don’t write
things down. That’s what the workbook below is for.
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
Faith here: When I started the fourth grade a boy I thought was nice asked
me, “Who are you?” I’d never thought of it before and so I asked my dad,
“Who am I?”
My dad laughed and said, “I can’t tell you who you are. That is for you to
discover for yourself. I can only tell you who I think I am, if you want.
Don’t let anyone dictate who you must be and don’t even let them force you
to answer. You have plenty of time to figure it out; at least until you
are an adult; even longer if need be.”
Find someone and ask them to ask themselves,
“Who am I?”
and then have them share their answer with you.
Name:
Age:
Relationship:
Answer:
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
Mr. Wong here: It is interesting that in The Lifewizard Way the symbol
used for questions about people is the club because it was used both to
hunt for food for your tribe and to fight against your enemies.
Faith here: My dad told me that people think it all comes down to the
boundary between “us” and “them” but what they don’t realize is that we’re
all “us”. I think this viral pandemic is proving my dad was right.
Find someone and ask them to ask themselves,
“Who is important to me?”
and then have them share their answer with you.
Name:
Age:
Relationship:
Answer:
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
Ms. Rieur here:
Albert Einstein said, “Any fool can know. The point is to understand.”
Today with the internet you don’t have to “know” much since a search
engine will tell you nearly anything that you want to know.
Foster here:
My dad says that he thinks the reason my mom killed herself was because
although she knew how to be a good soldier, she did not understand why she
was killing the people who she was killing.
Find someone and ask them to ask themselves,
“What do I need to understand?”
and then have them share their answer with you.
Name:
Age:
Relationship:
Answer:
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
Faith here: My dad said that if you want to know what people really want
then you should look at what they do. For example, he said, people who
say, “I want to quit smoking” but still smoke don’t really want to quit
strongly enough to actually quit.
Ms. Rieur here: I have the same thing with students who said, “I wanted to
do the homework but there was a show that I watched instead.” They don’t
really mean what they said.
Find someone and ask them to ask themselves,
“What do I want to do?”
and then have them share their answer with you.
Name:
Age:
Relationship:
Answer:
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
Ms. Rieur here: Science shows that one of the best ways to avoid
depression is to get in the habit of counting your blessings.
Faith here: My dad said that if you can wake up each morning glad to be
alive and go to bed grateful for another day’s life then you can survive
everything. Even though he died when I was young, my last words to him
were, “I cannot believe my good fortune to have gotten a chance to spend
time with you. Thank you so much.”
Find someone and ask them to ask themselves,
“What am I grateful for
and how do I give thanks?”
and then have them share their answer with you.
Name:
Age:
Relationship:
Answer:
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
Faith here: When I was nine my dad said to me, “There are two things you
must know. The first is that there is no such thing as fairness, and the
second is that you must be fair.” I’d just watched a nature video of a
lion eating a baby gazelle. I said, “That’s so unfair.” My dad said, “So,
you would have lions starve to death.”
My dad said that there is no idea of “fairness” in nature; that it is a
human invention, and that most people will judge you by how fair you are
with them.
Find someone and ask them to ask themselves,
“What does fairness mean to me?”
and then have them share their answer with you.
Name:
Age:
Relationship:
Answer:
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
Faith here: Before he died my dad said, “If you have what you need then
you are well off. If you don’t have what you need you are poor. If you
have more than you need then you are wealthy. Measure your wealth by how
much you have left over for others.”
He also said, “Time is the great equalizer; we each get 24 hours in a day.
The wealthiest people are the ones who have time left over for others.”
Hopefully, you will find people wealthy enough to have time to answer
these questions.
Find someone and ask them to ask themselves,
“Where do the things I want come from?”
and then have them share their answer with you.
Name:
Age:
Relationship:
Answer:
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
Ms. Rieur here: My grandfather, Jack, was an amazing teacher and he told
me to beware of using grades to motivate students. It is much better to
get them to love learning how the world works because it is fun and
rewarding for its own sake. Also, he taught me to teach my students that
it is important that all of us pass on to others what we learn because
otherwise civilization ceases to advance. Helping others when we can, even
if there is no explicit reward, is crucial both for our own self-esteem
and also for the advancement of mankind.
Find someone and ask them to ask themselves,
“What will I do only if rewarded?
What will I do for its own sake?”
and then have them share their answer with you.
Name:
Age:
Relationship:
Answer:
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
A conversation between the main characters.
Ms. Rieur: As your sixth grade teacher, how would you explain The
Lifewizard Way?
Faith: My dad died from cancer last year. For my 12th birthday he left me
a big envelope full of antique documents.
Foster: I live downstairs from Faith and together we tried to figure them
out. But they were in Chinese so we went looking for an expert to help.
Mr. Wong: When Faith and Foster first brought the documents to me I knew
immediately they were The Lifewizard Way, which I’d heard about since my
youth growing up in Hong Kong. They include a series of 54 questions that
were formulated thousands of years ago and that have been lost since 1067.
Ms. Rieur: What are the questions used for?
Mr. Wong: In old times children were allowed to play when they were young.
When they turned 12 the exceptional children were approached and taught
The Way of the Lifewizard, which involved finding good answers to 54
questions about yourself, other people, the world and your work.
Adolescents in those days were told to ask the questions of the adults
around them in order to decide who was wise and who was best ignored.
Ms. Rieur: Faith, why did you decide to release these questions? Some
powerful people might stop at nothing to suppress them?
Faith: Precisely because of that. If I tell everyone about The Lifewizard
Way, what can they do to me? If they kill me they will just make a martyr
out of me. During this global pandemic it is important that we all think
about the questions posed in The Lifewizard Way.
Ms. Rieur: Why did you decide to allow people to print and sell this
workbook for a profit without giving you royalties.
Faith: Because it is one way we can help all the people and businesses
that have been hurt. There are instructions inside the front cover that
tell you what you can and cannot do with this work.
Ms. Rieur: Foster, you are writing a book about your experiences, are you
not?
Foster: Yes I am, and my dad is helping me. He’s out of work so if there
is a literary agent who wants to help us find a publisher we hope they
will write to us at: [2]
[email protected].
Ms. Rieur: Thank you so much and best of luck to you all.
Last updated 2020-05-03 14:07:13 +0200
══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
References
Visible links
1.
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/
2. mailto:
[email protected]
