Byron and Mona both had good jobs. On the weekends, they would skin-pop heroin and listen to slow jazz. They never had any money, but they had each other and the weekends. It was great. 

Mona's clock was ticking. She wanted a baby. When she got pregnant, she didn't want the baby to be born addicted so she contacted a girlfriend who had quite heroin and asked her what treatment she used. 

Her girlfriend told her about chanting. Mona started chanting and quit heroin. 

Byron still liked the slow jazz and heroin weekends. He felt a little left out, but respected Mona's decision. 

Mona came back from Buddhist meetings with a joyful glow. Byron felt depressed; he felt like his life was going nowhere. He wanted to be anywhere — except where he was. He wanted to be anyone — except who he was. 

Mona had a beautiful, healthy baby girl. They named her India. Mona stayed off heroin even after she had India. She had to be a mom. She had to be responsible. She loved being India's mom. 

India grew up to be a smart eight-year-old. One day, she came home and told her dad that she was going to go to Harvard. Byron knew that they could never afford to send her to Harvard. He had his habit and raising a child is not cheap either. 

The next time he went to score heroin, he started thinking about India's face when she told him she wanted to go to Harvard. He did not score. Instead he turned around and went back and asked his wife to teach him how to chant. He could not let India down. 

A month into the chanting, a friend of his called to ask if he would mind helping him with a mentoring project. When Byron said "Yes," he realized it was the first unselfish thing he could ever remember agreeing to do. 

Byron became a great mentor. He could really relate to the troubled youth that he was mentoring. He was so good that other schools wanted to know what he was doing. He became the mentor coordinator for his county. It was a paid position and he not only loved it, but he knew that he was making a lasting difference in children's lives. 

As his workload increased, he started to feel underpaid and underappreciated. 

He received guidance. His leader asked: "What do want your tombstone to read — 'Byron made lots of money' or 'Byron made a difference'?" He was instructed to concentrate on the needs of the children. "It's the children that matter. They are your reward. Your worth will be measured by how well they do. Never lose sight of this." 

This was a hard pill for Byron to swallow, but as he chanted he understood the truth of it. He applied this guidance and was within a year appointed the mentoring director for the state, with a $20,000 raise along with the recognition of the Governor. 

Before I forget: India graduated from Harvard last year in the top 5% of her class. 

[I heard this experience at a Men's Division meeting.]