Many years ago, there was a fire in Quebec, where the father sat outside and watched while his children were burning inside their house. This news shocked me, and years later I still think about it and ask people what they would have done in that situation. Would they go in and get them or sit out and watch. And suppose the house was indeed engulfed in flames, would anyone jump in there for the mere possibility of saving their children.

"Suppose you knew you had a 5% chance of saving them," I asked my brother one day, "would you go in? Would it be instinct driving you, or in that moment would you stop and think logically?"

"It depends. If the door was blocked with flames, I wouldn't be able to get in."

"But suppose you could get in but the likelihood of you coming out was slim, would you do it?"

The very fact that this father did not enter the house and at least try to save his children has me questioning human nature. I mean, didn't his instinct drive him in there. Does he find it difficult to live with himself now?

I admit, fire can be intimidating, and no one can know for sure what was going on in his mind, but the imagery of it is unbelievable—standing outside while your children are burning!

I think it comes down to courage. You need an awful lot of courage to do the right thing even if it means you will burn.

My book "You've Got Me Wishing for Wishes Again" is on Paulo Coelho's blog today!

I'm so happy,  I'm about to explode!

Thank you Paulo Coelho!

You can watch it here!

I have this image in my mind of big strong men at the gym pumping iron and huffing and puffing, sweating all over the place, grunting and groaning. Then I have another image juxtaposed to this: An old man or woman sitting in their yard and watching their roof fall apart and wishing that they were strong enough to fix it themselves, or rich enough to hire someone—and on the other side of town, big buff strong men are actually paying money to remain strong!

What has the world come to? I was thinking one day. What silliness is that? Instead of those men (and strong women) pumping-for-nothing, why not offer to help someone? Why not redo someone's driveway, or cut the grass for five senior citizens, the ill or the disabled? I am certain that the volunteer would be tired and feel like they had a killer workout.

And then it hit me: we live in a selfish society and we have somehow been conditioned to not think of helping someone for free. We have been made to believe that it would be silly to go around cutting strangers' grass on a given day. Meanwhile, how silly is it to PAY to stay fit, doing something as un-useful as pumping iron!?

While working for someone who desperately needs it, you could get the equivalent of a gym workout. Say, if you build someone's house, take out the garbage of twenty people, clean someone's gutter...

I recently watched my boyfriend redo our shed roof. He was exhausted! All his muscles hurt. He ached and moaned and groaned. He worked sixteen hour shifts and did not stop until I urged him in for supper. And as he was doing the bulk of the job with me carrying stuff back and forth, I couldn't stop thinking of all that wasted manpower and money in gyms—when in fact there are so many cheaper and more useful ways to stay fit...

Pump pump pump...how selfish and silly it all seems.

 Pierre Elliot Trudeau, a former and now passed Canadian Prime Minister, was a charismatic and strong man. The women loved him because of his directness and charm. He was not afraid. He said what he thought and did what he thought was right. Everyone—though not all agreed with him—respected him, respected the integrity which seeped from his pores. It was obvious that this was an honest man who held his head high.

I watched him over the years, was fascinated by his life choices and by his fearlessness. His wife left him and he remained at home with his two sons, raising them, I found out during his eulogy, to "live a clean life." When his son said these words publicly, they resonated with me. In fact, I was so impressed that I kept repeating the phrase to my own son . "Live a clean life," I said over an over so that it was engraved in his mind.

"What does that mean?" he asked one day.

"It means to live honestly and cleanly: no drugs, no alcohol, no lying,

no stealing—a clean life, a good life.

"Never stray from the path," I continued, grasping for a new metaphor so that he could understand. "We are honest people, we want to live honestly and cleanly." I may have driven my son crazy with all this cleanliness, perhaps that is why he is messy, but I think the inherent message hit home.

My daughter, when she comes into the age where she can understand these concepts, will get her share of clean-life lessons: "Never stray from the path...live a clean life." Those simple words are so direct and cutting in their honesty that they are like a mantra to repeat over and over. Living a clean life is rewarding, it is peaceful. It brings with it a euphoria and calm and a sense of safety.

So, above all lessons in life, this one is it—together with love thy neighbour as thyself and God.