Rich brother rich sister : two different paths to God, money and happiness PDF
Preview Rich brother rich sister : two different paths to God, money and happiness
Rich ADVANCE READER'S COPY Rich SISTER Two Different Paths to GOD, MONEY and HAPPINESS Robert Kiyosaki Entrepreneurand InternationalBestSelling Authorof RichDadPoorDad Emi Kiyosaki VenerableTenzin Kacho Ordainedby HisHolinesstheDalaiLama Digitized by the Internet Archive 2012 in http://archive.org/details/richbrotherrichsOOkiyo RICH BROTHER RICH SISTER Rich Brother Rich Sister Two Different Paths to God, Money and Happiness by Robert Kiyosaki and Emi Kiyosaki (Venerable Tenzin Kacho) 2 1 RICH BROTHER RICH SISTER Table of Contents CHAPTER FROM THE DINING ROOM WINDOW 1 CHAPTER 2 A SHELTER FROM THESTORM CHAPTER 3 A TELLING HISTORY CHAPTER 4 LIVES IN TRANSITION CHAPTER 5 THE EARLY PATHS CHAPTER 6 WHAT DO YOU WANTTO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP? CHAPTER 7 LEAPS OF FAITH CHAPTER 8 WHY WE FOLLOW OUR TEACHERS CHAPTER 9 ROBERT'S RICH BROTHER PRINCIPLES CHAPTER 10 TENZIN'S RICH SISTER PRINCIPLES CHAPTER 1 LIFE AND DEATH CHAPTER LIVING WITH GRACE, DYING WITH GRACE 1 RICH BROTHER RICH SISTER 'The testofa firstrateintelligenceis theabilityto holdtwo opposedideasin themindatthesame timeandstillretain the abilityto function." -F. ScottFitzgerald RICH BROTHER RICHSISTER Robertasks: Howareyouliving yourlife? Emireplies: Wedieas welive. RICH BROTHER RICHSISTER CHAPTER 1 FROM THE DINING ROOM WINDOW ROBERT'S STORY: Just afterdinner, on an evening in the summerof 1962, the Kiyosaki family—fourchildren, a mom and a dad were doing what families across America were doing: They were watching TV, probably "The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet," a family favorite. The place was Hilo, Hawaii. And in this small town, television was limited to just one station which meant families watched whateverwas on, together. But on this one particularevening, the Kiyosaki familywitnessed something they hadn't bargained for. Something far beyond Ozzie and Harriet. That night they experienced was a harsh, blinding white flash, and it lit up the whole room—just foran instant. I'm Robert Kiyosaki, and the story I am about to tell you changed my life, my sister Emi's life and my whole family's life. It reorganized ourthinking about God, war, peace and money. It also impacted ouractions and ourfutures. "Whatwas that?" one of us asked spontaneously, "Did someone just take our picture?" The family sat there, stunned, afterall, this started out to be a night like any other night. "What happened?" Afterabout a minute, Beth, the youngest of us said, "Oh, my God! Look out the window!" As each of us moved toward the window, we uttered exactly the same words, "Oh, my God." While otherAmericans simply went on watching TV, there we stood, in front of ourdining room window, watching the sky, as it turned from a brief angry orange to a swirling deep red and about RICH BROTHER RICHSISTER twenty minutes laterto dark purple and finally backto black. We didn't know it at the time, but what we were witnessing was an atomic bomb explosion spreading its wrath across the Pacific sky. The next day the local papersaid the United State's atomic bomb test on Christmas Island looked like someone had poured blood across the sky. A local newscasterdescribed the experience much more graphically, saying it looked like someone had slit the throat of an animal and let the blood gush out across the sky. At first the blood was bright red and frothy because it was still alive with oxygen. As the blood began to die, it began to coagulate, become thicker, transitioning from dark red to purple. Eventually dark purple gave way to black. Thank God the twinkling stars finally pierced the blackness three hours later. Thank God for sure. In the summerof 1962, was fifteen years old, 1 just about to enter high school. Barbara Kiyosaki, or Emi as we called her, was fourteen; Jon thirteen; and Beth eleven. Being so close in age, we were well aware of the times we were living in. We were well aware of the atomic threat and impending wars with the formerSoviet Union, Communist China or both. America's atomic bombs and potential atomic warwere far, faraway from the living rooms of most U.S. citizens. But this one was literally in our front yard. The atomic age affected all of us. We were all old enough to understand the far-reaching implications of the angry sky framed by our living room window. It contradicted the very foundation of what we had all learned in Sunday school: "Thou shalt not kill." But maybe what we were witnessing was "Onward Christian Soldiers" the title of a well-known protestant hymn we learned in church. It was a frightening and confusing time to be a child. EMI'S STORY: It wasn't just the sight of the blood-red sky or the difficult contradictions that made it challenging to be a kid in the 60's; it RICH BROTHER RICH SISTER was also the ever present emotional dark cloud hanging over us. The threat of nuclearwarwith the Soviets, the possibility of fighting enemies with terrifying weapons and the untold consequences of death and devastation were on the news every night and happened right before our eyes. As a child living in Hilo, facing the realities a child should not have to face, there was no forgetting the nebulous but constant concern of nuclear holocaust, mass destruction, not caused by God, but by man killing man. It left as strong an imprint on me, Emi Kiyosaki, as it did on Robert. The times and places I would least expect it, the nuclearthreat would become real. Parks were meant for playing. But in our park, in the middle of town, the city had constructed a model bomb shelteras if to show everyone how it's done. You couldn't miss the formidable structure, and of course, it was open to the public. I remember my brief tourwell. The tiny, cramped space was damp, cold, and dark. It smelled of earth, mold and wet concrete. I couldn't imagine staying in it for more than ten minutes let alone living in it with my family forweeks, not months. if The airraid drills we had in school seemed important then. One minute we'd be struggling through a math problem and the next, sirens would sound and all us kids would dutifully duck underour desks. Todaywe know how pointless the exercises really were; but then, we were told hiding underour desks and covering ourheads would save ourlives. Our parents protected us from the world as much as they could. They did their best to shield us from the news of escalating global tensions and potential conflicts. They knew, and we sensed, war and strife could arise anywhere and put us in harm's way, even in a remote town on a distant Hawaiian island. There seemed to be something noble about it all. Truth,justice and the American way, said the announceron "Superman." It seemed we were in a fight of good versus evil, and we were the good guys. Were we all being called to arms even while still in school? RICH BROTHER RICHSISTER Dad, Ralph Kiyosaki, answered that call by becoming a leaderin the local Civil-Defense chapterand Mom, Marjorie Kiyosaki, already a nurse, joined the American Red Cross. rememberone I evening we drove to another little town where three families had pooled theirefforts and built a networkof underground adjoining rooms and passageways. It was our first "fallout shelter party." These friends of ours were so proud of their massive space that could accommodate more than a dozen people. While others were marveling, was becoming more and more I concerned. Why weren't we doing this? Doesn't ourfamily need one of these shelters? In an attack, would we have time to drive to a shelter? Would others who are already safe and secure let us in? Then there was the real issue. I still could not imagine cowering like a trapped animal in a cold, dank bunker, norcould I, even at this young age, grasp that a cement hive would protect me, given what saw from ourpicture window. Furthermore, would want to I I live in a world destroyed by atomic weapons? I felt my prospects forthe future were rather bleak. My mental image of being the lonely survivors on a wasted earth was only compounded by my high school English teacher's choice of literature. Jean-Paul Sartre's play No Exit told of three people who are trapped in a room with no windows and one locked door. The people expect theircaptors to torture them, only to find out that their torturers are each other. Perhaps was ultra-sensitive at the time. Or maybe ourteacher I was trying to tell us something through the voice of a great writer. Regardless, Sartre's, or my teacher's message perhaps, wasn't lost on me. What never could have seen coming, though, was how I this piece of literature when combined with the events of 962 1 would pull me toward my destiny.
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