Your Space in my Blog: 9th of January 2009

Dear Catherine
Many thanks for your comments, I have learned a lot from them.
History and many many other topics are not my “forte” I really appreciate that a lot.
and yes 5,000 years was just a range they chose in that article.
Love

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Let me grow
Let me learn
Let me flourish
Let me live
Let me be
As old and wise
As an ancient tree
One that stood
Steady and brave
Throughout life’s storms
Hurricanes
Floods
Thunders
One that sheltered
Others
At the time of need
And changed with the seasons
Openly
Defiantly
With roots anchored to my Mother
And branches rising to my Father
Let me grow
Let me learn
Let me flourish
Let me live
Let me be
A mighty tree
One of life and love and light and laughter
Let me be me
I am a Tree.

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“It isn’t explanations that carry us forward, it’s our desire to go on.” from Brida, by Paulo Coelho

I could offer all kinds of explanations as to why this post is three days late. Really. I have lots of reasons (aka excuses). Some of them are even good ones.

But what would be the point?

It’s like the ONE time I climbed what could be called a mountain umpty doodle years ago – Mt. Olympus on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. It may not be of Everest proportions but, trust me, it’s the top of the world when you’re standing on top. (Maybe I’ll show you the pictures sometime…)

Anyway, I have historically had a real problem with heights and that day long ago as I huddled on a snowy ledge just dozens of feet below the summit I thought about that and wondered why I’d reached that precarious point – and how in the world I’d get back down.

My co-worker J. and I kvetched to our friend T. who (in a weak moment?) had agreed to lead us to the summit. We had never climbed before and had seemingly reached our limit.

“How much farther? What will it be like?” I whined. But then I caught myself (just in time) and said, “No, don’t tell me. Don’t explain it to me. I’ll just go.”

And I did. At that point it was a vertical – but quick – scramble to the summit – a summit which was completely out of site even though it was so close. And I have to say, that abandonment of fear was completely exhilarating.

Where could your desires take you if you abandoned all fear and just let go?

D-E-S-I-R-E reduces to 33/6: d/4 + e/5 + s/1 + i/9 + r/9 + e/5 = 33. Think about it. And imagine letting go.

Jeri Lynn
from my numerology blog, http://realandimaginary.blogspot.com/2008/10/numerology-for-week-of-oct-26-nov-1.html

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Life is just too short.
It can be beautiful, sometimes we get just a little taste of how amazing it can all be.
It depends on how we tend to view and approach living.There are days when everything makes me happy, little things.Meeting nice people at the store, sunshine, food.It seems that every minute is precious, that I cant efford to waste it.Then there are days when everything goes bad, people tend to be rude, Im hungry, tired, behind the schedule.I just want the day to be over.
It gets me thinking, if my approach would be different on the bad days could a make them better?Is being an optimist helpful?
I have to continue learning how to be an optimist cos I was born with dark glasses on, always worrying and stressing. wish everyday was a good day, then life could be truly beautiful.You would probably say that I wouldnt appreciate the good days without the bad.But I have had my share of bad and now I just want the sun to shine, nice people to say hello, food to be delisious.

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Though I did not read every word of all the posts, I did scan enough to see that there is, in fact, a shift in consciousness going on right before our often shrouded eyes. We all feel it. It trudges along beneath the surface of what we say and what we write. Why must we allow its existence in disguise? Why do we feel we need to tiptoe around this shift? It is nothing to be ashamed of! My one request from all of you in 2009 is to speak of this shift of consciousness openly and honestly in as many avenues as you can as frequently as possible.

I know we are all one… even the parts we don’t like:)

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Olá Paulo Coelho!

Sou mais um leitor seu e sempre que tenho oportunidade, recomendo seus livros. Gostaria de poder um dia ter um autógrafo seu pessoalmente em um dos meus livros, mas não sei como isso irá acontecer, pois acho que você nunca aparece aqui por Sampa. Quero dizer que seus livros, por mais que outros falam ao contrário, são ótimos e sensíveis, gostaria de ter uma epifania para poder realmente ter certeza que estou no rumo certo, pois a vida às vezes é muito ingrata para àqueles que seguem o caminho da verdade.
Abraços e fique na Paz de Deus!

Magno Oliveira
São Paulo – SP – Brasil

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This is something I wrote a while ago but, given the current situation in the world, still seems as relevant now as it did then.

The Rapier and the Rose.

In a world beset by troubles two pupils went to their master and asked, “Master what can we do to protect ourselves and vanquish those who would wound us. How do we defeat our enemies?”
“Take up your weapons and use them well for behind their use lies great wisdom.” the Master replied.
The first pupil chose a rapier, the second a rose and thus they departed.
Some time later they returned. The first pupil was exhausted and wounded from his labours.
“Master I have failed.” he said. “I used my rapier to defend myself from my enemies, but they kept on coming until I was forced to start attacking them. The more I fought them the fiercer they became. In the end I had to flee for my life.”
“And what have you learnt?” the Master asked.
The pupil hesitated then asnwered, “That violence calls down violence, hate calls hate and fear calls fear.”
“And how would you change this?”
“I would look into the face of my enemy and not at the sword in my hand.”
The Master then turned to the second pupil who was radiant and shining and asked, “What happened for you?”
“To the first enemy I met I offered my rose for it seemed to me that he lacked beauty in his life. As he took it I saw that he was no longer my enemy, but a human being like me worthy of love. As I approached the second enemy I found another rose in my hand. Again I offered it to my enemy and again my enemy no longer stood before me. This went on until I ceased to meet enemies only people and in my hands was a huge bunch of roses that never grew less.”
“And what have you learnt?” the Master said, smiling.
“That there are no enemies, only people. They are only enemies if we choose to see them that way. My mind is fooled into perceiving enemies, but my heart knows the truth and provides me with the roses that allowed me to show that I do not need to be seen as an enemy either.
The Master was happy and asked the pupils, “What will you do with your knew knowledge?”
“Plant a rose garden.” said the second.
“Allow my rapier to become the thorn on my first rose.” replied the first.

Rebecca Johnson

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LIFE MODIFIED
Francine Drilon (Philippines)

I’m not a very good writer. I hope you’ll forgive me for my mistakes. I’m sure there are a number of them. I just want to take this opportunity to share my story with you…

I used to be an incorrigible cynic with an incredible appetite for the wrong choices in life. It took me a long time to shift paradigms and make my life more meaningful. I was a veritable people-pleaser, short of being a doormat, and managed to project aggression & sarcasm with excruciating politeness. I was often referred to as Ms. Congeniality, but paradoxically I was a mean critic to every mundane thing…. But since I was diagnosed with MS, I decided to be REAL and live the BEST LIFE I possibly could.

I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2003. I remember the day I got my first sign that something was wrong. It all started with a sore pain in my wrists. I thought it was because I was spending too much time on the computer. Being a teacher, I had to work on lesson plans and grades all the time. The pain didn’t improve and I was beginning to worry. I thought it was Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. After a few days, I started experiencing the same pain on both feet. I was beginning to limp and that’s when I knew I needed to see a doctor. After a few minutes of the usual Q&A with the doctor, she said I needed to see a neurologist. I thought, “What?!?! A neuro?! That sounds serious… I need a neurologist for sore wrists and a limp?! What’s going on?!”

I made an appointment with the neuro and saw him the next day. He asked me more questions and gave me a long list of tests I needed to go through. He said he would wait for the results the same afternoon, and then decide whether I needed to be admitted. I said to myself, “Ok, let’s do the bloody tests and get this over with!” I was in pain and the “pins and needles” sensation was beginning to advance towards my legs.

The tests consisted of needle poking and what seemed like electric shock treatment! It was agonizing. I have a high tolerance for pain, but this was almost unbearable. I was OK with the whole idea of having needles injected all over my body, but I couldn’t bear the doctor’s hand on my skin. The slightest touch felt like I was being burned alive. There came a point when they needed to insert needles in my spine, but they hesitated because they knew I would shudder, as soon as the doctors touched me. They said they had no choice but to “attempt” to insert the needle without touching any part of my skin. “Attempt?!” I, of course, dreaded the thought that they would miss, and turn me into a “vegetable.” Needless to say, I survived that ordeal. The tests were over, but I was still in pain… After half an hour from the last needle poking, the doctor said I couldn’t go home yet. “Oh brother! What now?!?!”

By sundown, I had difficulty breathing. It felt like I had a belt tightly wrapped around my chest. I couldn’t move from the neck down! Several neurologists and neuro-surgeons came to see me. They said I had a demyelinating disease. I asked them to pretend that I was a 5 year old and explain to me what that meant exactly. I was told that the myelin sheaths of my nerves were depleting. ”Hmm… How did that happen?” I had to undergo 3 MRI scans and more tests. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t write or eat on my own. They said that I was hypersensitive too, which explained why I physically ached when people spoke louder than a whisper. I ached when the lights were on. I was sensitive to touch, sight, and sound. “Wow! I have super powers!” If I didn’t experience pain, I could be related to superman! Hahaha!

After being hospitalized for weeks, a lot of steroids, and a dozen other meds, I was finally released. Now I had to get physical and occupational therapy! I had to learn how to walk again. I had to learn how to write, feed myself, button my shirt, comb my hair, and do all the basic everyday functions I took for granted. They said I had to “desensitize my nerves.” I had to retrain my brain and convince it that all these actions were not harmful… not painful. My therapist would say, “Tell your brain… to tell your arm… to tell your hand … to move this marble.” There was a moment when I thought, “Didn’t I see this in the movie, Lorenzo’s Oil?!?!”

They made me dip my hands in warm paraffin wax, move items from one tray to another, practice with a pen, a spoon, a comb… They even made me dip my hands in a pail full of sand. They hid tiny objects in the sand and then showed me pictures of each object they wanted me to find (using my hands). I must tell you… that was difficult and excruciatingly painful. I cried because of the pain. I cried because I couldn’t believe that looking for a small car in a bucket of sand would be so hard. I felt so useless and helpless.

I had to stop working for six months and focus on getting better. I felt dizzy and weak. I experienced chronic fatigue. I had to sit on a chair in the shower, while my mom bathed me. I couldn’t even shampoo my own hair! I needed a wheelchair, so working or going out with friends were totally out of the question. I stayed home, went to the hospital, and went back home. I suffered from insomnia. I couldn’t sleep and I stayed up till six or seven in the morning. I was hurting, frustrated, lonely, bored, angry, and depressed. The doctor told me early on that there is such a thing as MS depression. They believe it is due to the unpredictability of the disease. Compared to cancer, with which we are more familiar with the stages and what to expect, MS is far different. We can be OK today… and then totally helpless tomorrow.

As soon as I started walking on my own, thanks to the steroids, I went back to work. Still feeling the pins and needles, still feeling weak and sore, I was determined to go back to my job and my students. Since there are no visual symptoms of MS, it was difficult to explain to people what I was going through. I was sick of answering the same questions about what was going on with me. I was tired of hearing, “Really? But you don’t look sick.” I wanted to say, “Do I need to lose my hair? Lose an eye? Lose weight? Gain weight? Sever an artery, perhaps? … just so you believe that I’m suffering from a progressive disease?” I always ended up saying, “Well, what you see and how I feel are two different things.”

I worked from October till March of 2003. I suffered another attack come April, and then I was back in the hospital. Three more MRI scans and a couple of second opinions later, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. They found lesions in my spinal cord. The doctors said that I should not take it lightly. There is no known cure for MS. The medication given is to address the symptoms, nothing more. I took neuropathic anti-convulsants, muscle relaxants, as well as medicine for pain, nausea, insomnia, etc. Some of my doctors suggested that I quit my job and consider a change of lifestyle. I needed to avoid stress… And since the heat exacerbates my condition, I should consider moving to a colder part of the Philippines or another country too.

As much as I wanted to give everything up… I could not. I told my doctor I couldn’t quit my job because I had no way of paying his doctor’s fee! I wouldn’t be able to buy my medication or pay for my other bills. “God, I would love to focus on myself for a change… but I can’t do that right now.” I did not have medical insurance, and it seemed as though I could only file for disability benefits with Social Security if I lost my head! I had no other options.

In 2006, I went back to work. I taught 2 major subjects and 3 minor ones. At that point, I was taking neuropathic anti-convulsants and morphine every 4 hours (I still do). I also took medication for my nausea and really strong sleeping pills prescribed to patients with Schizophrenia. I could be a stock holder of Mercury Drug Store! Hahaha!

My neurologist still suggests that I stop teaching and finally move to a colder climate or maybe look into a program for MS patients in the States. My Pain Management doctor suggests the opposite. He says that I should continue what I’m doing, heal myself by thinking positively, and just pace myself. I agree with them both. I think I shouldn’t let my MS hinder me from living my life, but at the same time I think I should consider changing my lifestyle, because teaching has caused me so much stress. After all, I’ve been an educator for almost 12 years now; holding both an administrative position and a teaching position. I’ve worked both in the classroom and in the office all these years. Oftentimes I work outside school as well; whenever I need to meet parents, developmental pediatricians, textbook publishers, etc. I have to go make the usual ocular visits to potential field trip venues, program venues, Family Day venues, etc. My lifestyle isn’t helping me at all. When summer hits, it’s even worse because the heat aggravates my condition- And it doesn’t help that I have to plan for summer classes, interview teacher applicants, prepare for enrollment, and the upcoming school year…Yes, I think it’s time for a change. As much as I love teaching, I think I need to slow down.

The heat here in the Philippines weakens me, and dealing with the pain and fatigue is twice as difficult. I’m still trying to improve my penmanship now, but my walking has greatly improved. Each day can be agonizing. In fact, typing this is making my fingers sore. But, it’s nothing I can’t handle. I will not be defeated by this. I refuse to give up on living my life the best way I know how.

My father taught me, that in life, it is essential to make peace with one’s pain. I agree with my dad. I have made peace with the physical and emotional pain MS has given me. After reflecting on my own mortality, I have found many things to smile about each day. I find joy in seeing my friends every single week. I embrace each time they come for coffee, laced with meaningful conversation… I treasure DVD marathons with my mom… and singing with my dad… or receiving little notes from my students. I value my alone time, which is when I can read the Alchemist over and over again… or look at paintings by Gustav Klimt… or watch the moon rise… paint pictures… listen to cello music or India Arie. I look forward to corny television shows and even pathetic ones! I can’t wait to take long baths… wash my hair… and button my shirt. I’m in pain… but I’m alive!

Before the year ended, I had another major exacerbation and needed six new MRI scans. They found more lesions, plus there were flare-ups in my brain. They increased my meds again. I’m taking a higher dosage of steroids, Neurontin, Trileptal and morphine every four hours now. I still have insomnia, constipation (because of the morphine), and nausea.

I don’t teach this school year, but I still work from home. I communicate with the teachers almost everyday. I write memos, check lesson plans, exams, homenotes, and circulars. I call meetings once a month and visit the school when I can.

I have basic medical insurance now. Unfortunately, it doesn’t cover any of my medication. It only offers free hospitalization, if and when I need it. It doesn’t even pay for my visits to the doctor. I still suffer from fatigue everyday, especially when it’s hot. I still feel the pain in my entire body. I get nauseated easily. My vision is getting hazy. My short term memory is starting to fail me. I still have those involuntary twitches which causes my hand to launch my spoon or pen into outer space! I still can’t sleep. It’s 3:46 in the afternoon now, and I’ve been awake for 32 hours. But despite all of these trials and more, I continue to embrace life. I want to be the best daughter, friend, teacher, and wife (if I find the right guy), that I can possibly be. I want to love life as much as I can, for as long as I can. After all, having this disease is not a death sentence. The way I see it… it’s simply life modified.

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Dear Paulo,

I was intrigued by your announcement that you are open to receiving contributions from other Facebook members to add to your page.

I wanted to share that today there was an article in the New York Times about my favorite travel destination in Brazil: Florianopolis.

http://travel.nytimes.com/2009/01/11/travel/11party.html

It makes me hopeful, that I may find a publisher for my novel that is set in the surfing and fishing village of Farol de Santa Marta, which is close by.

Here is an essay I wrote about the creative vacation I took in order to write this book.

When You Realize the Dog is Your Master
By Jennifer Prado

When I left New York City to pursue a peaceful, writing sabbatical, my typical day had a simple agenda.

Get up in the morning in the cabin I had rented in a surfers’ paradise in South America, walk down the mountain barefoot, inhale the distinct scent of seawater coming from the direction of the pristine, sandy beach, and most importantly, GET PAST THE PIT BULL NAMED MUHAMMAD ALI.

“Ali,” as his owners liked to call him, had issues. To start, they were his second or possibly third owners. I had already learned that parrots will bite the hand that feeds them. Now, I was learning that pit bulls can have deep-seated emotional problems, as well as, trauma from past abuse. Unfortunately, I didn’t look like a therapist who could help. Most likely, I looked like a tasty dog biscuit.

Ali had the classic, flat head and narrow eyes of the breed and a smile that gaped open widely and was full of large and threatening teeth. I had never met a dog who didn’t wag his tail at me. Eerily, this massive pit bull kept his tail apparatus entirely still, so that I couldn’t guess his feelings towards me, and grinned like a Muttley gone mad.

Ali was always sneaky in his attacks. He was supposed to be on the end of a long rope in the garden just before the gate to the glorious beach. There were days when I tiptoed past, eying the rope cautiously, trembling and praying silently, only to have an unleashed Ali come up from behind and jump at me unexpectedly. Sometimes he tore the sleeves of my long beach shirts or, for kicks, he’d clamp his mouth onto my arm and clench it just enough to leave teeth marks on my tanned skin. Other times, he merely tugged and slobbered on my sarong, like a perverse advertisement for Coppertone.

During these encounters, my entire body would shudder in fear, and I envisioned headlines like “Unknown American Novelist Mauled by Pit Bull on Brazilian Beach.” I don’t know which part of the imaginary headline was more painful; the “mauling part” or the “unknown part.”

Finally, out of desperation, I initiated human-to-dog conversation, trying to project whatever inner power remained from my last Kundalini yoga class. Or maybe in the interest of self-preservation, it was better to channel Cesar Millan,the Dog Whisperer?

“Oh, Ali,” I said in baby talk. “You scare me when you do that.“

He he he. I know dat, the pit bull answered.

(I swear, it was a magical realism moment that only happens in South America.)

“Why’d you go and rip my shirt? I liked this shirt!”

Coz I could. He he he.

“Do you think your OWNER would like that?” I said his owner’s name several times, to establish that I was a known entity on this property.

Like I care, who you are? Dis my lawn.

“I know and respect that this is your lawn. I’m merely trying to get to the beach.”

Dats your problem. Dis my house. My owner told me, guard my lawn. How I know you?

“Ali, be reasonable. Don’t I come through here every day?”

So. I don’ know you.

“Here. Smell my hand. I have a good smell. Will you remember me later? Let the girl with the good smell go through, OK?”

Why shoulda ‘member you? You don’ feed me. You don’drow dings for me to jase. You don’ pat me an’ say, ‘Good Ali. You’da gray-dest!’

“Do you want me to do that now?”

Dats a good start.

“Muhammad Ali,” I said, cautiously placing my hand on his side and patting him. “You are the greatest pit bull there ever was. Good, good dog. You are the best.”

Dats nice. You can go now.

I made my way to the beach, removed my long shirt, bundled it into a ball and threw it into the wind,letting it be carried away. I dove into the water, and let the ocean revive me.

The pit bull named Muhammad Ali was no longer my master. Now, whenever my first novel is published, I will even be ready for critics with murder on their muzzles.

Biography and Latest Project – Becoming Brazilian
http://www.publishersmarketplace.com/members/JenniferPrado

Readers: If you liked my essay, please add me as friend on Facebook.

Best wishes always,

Jennifer

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Já li muitos depoimentos com várias posições sobre a guerra Árabe-Israelense de tão antiga data. Li depoimentos cheios de emoção, depoimentos bravos e até apocalípticos. Uns posicionam-se contra os Árabes, outros contra Israel e ainda outros contra a intransigência dos dois lados, e a favor da paz. E realmente, é triste ver a carnificina que por aquelas bandas ocorre, divulgadas pelos veículos de comunicação; é triste de ver diretamente na tv, todo o horror sentido pelo povo que sofre, e pior ainda – pelo menos é o que penso – é ver os senhores da guerra discutindo em seus escritórios confortáveis os tratados que podem ou não dar fim a guerra. Ah! esses terríveis senhores da guerra (afinal, quem será que vende as armas que esses senhores usam?). Mas é também interessante perceber o quanto se tem pesos e medidas diferenciados para os sofrimentos terrenos. A globo e todas as outras emissoras e as instituições internacionais de divulgação se esmeram em colocar esta guerra em primeira página e fazem de tudo para sensibilizar a opinião pública mundial para este fato. Colocam o espetáculo da morte em nossas casas porque parece que para nós isto é um espetáculo que vale a pena ver e se sensibilizar com ele (e até parece que é recente, e até parece que é o único no mundo ou o mais terrível). E realmente encontram telespectadores ou leitores ávidos por consumir este espetáculo. Mas se é de morte que se está falando, por que não colocar o espetáculo da morte que ocorre agora no Congo, na Nigéria, no Quênia, no Sudão, Somália e em outros países da África também em nossos lares? Por que não se falar do genocídio do Tibet? Afinal, as mortes de lá talvez dê mais ibope, afinal os mortos não são contados as centenas mas aos milhares e até milhões e de crianças que morrem de fome, lentamente, talvez a pior das mortes (mas talvez eu esteja errado, os mortos de lá não devem dar ibope, não são guerras glamourosas). E por que será que ninguém fala nada disso? E por que ninguém fala nada de nossas crianças faveladas do Rio, de São Paulo, da Bahia, e de todas as grandes cidades brasileiras e dos interiores do Norte e Nordeste principalmente, que são mortas também aos poucos, também pela fome ou atingidas na alma, pela falta de esperança, pelo envolvimento com as drogas, pelo envolvimento com o tráfico, pelo roubo puro e simples, pela fome, pela carência de infância pelo confronto com a polícia? Acho que já nos acostumamos a pensar na morte ou na vida severina (como diria João Cabral de Melo Neto) de nossos jovens, porque se abrirmos o jornal são jovens na grande maioria, os presos do dia, os apanhados roubando do dia, os traficantes do dia, os assassinos do dia, etc. Nos acostumamos e não nos indignamos mais com as mortes violentas destas crianças daqui como da África, ou do Tibet, regiões que, parece, são assim mesmo. Não é? Mas, essa guerra repentina lá na Palestina, (repentina?) nos pegou de surpresa, e para não nos desabituarmos tanto ao ato cidadão da indignação, vamos nos indignar diante desta guerra e nos sentirmos mais humanos e mais cidadãos demonstrando nossa indignação. Vamos esbravejar, vamos chorar publicamente, vamos manifestar, fazer passeatas, vamos, vamos…. vamos. E lá na frente uma criança pede esmola e outra é morta pela bala perdida da guerra que há no morro do Vidigal ou no interior do Pará.

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I am the Photographer and Author of Fading Toward Enlightenment – http://fade2e.com . After experiencing an unexpected past life memory, I decided to write a free ebook “The Implications of the Soul” and provide a free “Past Life Recall” guided meditation. No private information is required. I don’t even ask for an email address.

They are a gift. Use them, enjoy them, share them if you like them.

Peace,

Wayne Wirs
Link to downloads: http://waynewirs.com/free-downloads/

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Santosh Kalwar~~~ YOU ARE SOOO BOOOOOOOOORING!!! Couldn’t even read all of ur cr*p!!! You can’t impress people by writing all that sh*t !! The way you have written all that stuff –clearly shows that u have written it just for the sake of writing something!! You are unbearable!!

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Dear Paulo,

Last night, I saw Rik Felderhof’s interview with you on Dutch television and it was nice to become more acquainted with you, not having (yet) read any of your books, although I had heard of you before.

You say interesting things, but it struck me that the interview was rather superficial, which is of course more to blame on the interviewer than on the interviewee.

Regarding the notion of “happiness”: I don’t understand your problem with people trying to pursue this. Sure, the feeling of happiness usually only consists of a short moment in which one realizes that one is in the right place at the right time, but these moments are nevertheless intense and real. I would agree with you more if you had used the word “complacency”, since this state of mind is non-creative, non-productive and stagnant. To me, happiness is like being on the highest point of a see-saw swing, that brief moment when there’s a balance between coming and going and back and forth, and you have a good overview of your surroundings.

According to you, everybody is different, but in my opinion the complete opposite is true: we are all the same! To quote Sting’s words from his song “The Russians”: We share the same biology, regardless of ideology (…). All human beings have the same basic emotional and physical needs and it’s only on the surface that we differ, because of education, upbringing, religion, political convictions, etc. I guess what you’re trying to say is that we shouldn’t be afraid of being “different” or “individuals”, meaning that we should be able to express ourselves freely, thereby also respecting other people’s freedom.

On the issue of Jesus: you seem to be one of the lucky few who know about his life! I can imagine that he led a much more interesting and enjoyable life than is commonly depicted by the various Churches, but it’s also likely that he had to suffer a lot of misunderstanding and suspicion from the people around him, being far ahead of his time and a visionary. What you didn’t mention in the interview with Felderhof is what I consider the essence of Jesus’ spirit and of all Christianity: Forgiveness. Is this perhaps because you yourself have not forgiven those who have tortured and humiliated you? You said that you don’t want to write or talk about these experiences because it “won’t do anybody any good” , or something like that, but how can you be so sure? Unfortunately, a lot of people have been imprisoned and tortured for no other reason than that they were considered “a threat” because of their differing opinions, and perhaps they will find strength in coping with this by knowing that they’re not alone in their battle with their demons within and outside, since a man of your spirituality is also still struggling with the effects it has had on you.

But maybe you prefer to keep that pain inside you firmly locked up in a compartment of your soul, because that’s the best (or only) way for you to deal with it.

From May 2004 until September 2008 I have lived with my family: husband Tony O’Malley (www.tonyomalley.com), who’s a singer/piano player, and my two children for four years in the beautiful but troubled ex-Soviet republic of Georgia, and I know that there’s a café in Tbilisi named after you. Once again, I have not yet read any of your books, but I definitely will. Perhaps in there I will find some answers to questions I have or to the issues that I’ve written about in this letter.

Peace and Love, indeed!

Fem (living & still loving)

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A Man woke up one morning and thought to himself, “Why don’t I write a story?”

He took his pen and some paper and sat down to write without having any breakfast. He made himself comfortable and waited for something to happen.
Nothing happened though. Again, he tried to concentrate, but nothing happened.

For a while, he sat there, trying hard to work out why ideas come easier to the mind, than from the mind into ink.

“I know, he said, I just need a bit of stimulation and natural influences to set me on my way.”

He hired a small cottage on a piece of land overlooking the Garden of Eden. A small river formed a natural boundary between his property and the Garden. He placed his desk in front of a big window looking down on the slow flowing river where beast, bird, man, and fish lived in peaceful harmony.

“Now I am in tune with nature. Only wonderful fables and stories can come from this partnership.”

With knew excitement he stared down at the white paper. Again nothing happened. Not a single word or sentence appeared on the skin of dead trees. No matter how hard he concentrated he could not formulate his thoughts into ink figures.

The man let his head drop onto the white paper on the desk in front of the window in the little house overlooking the Garden of Eden. For the first time he doubted the feasibility of his artistic plans. Only a little bit, deep inside his grey matter where the soul was taking a nap.

“Maybe I’m not really a writer but a deaf mute artist, he thought to himself.”

While he was still figuring out a way, too transform his ideas into something concrete on paper, there was a knock on the door.

“Who can that be, he sighed and opened the door.” It was all his friends from town that came to give him a surprise visit. He did not know if he was happy to see them or not. That night a lot of food was eaten and the wine and whiskey flowed freely. The situation was philosophical unstoppable until the early morning hours. Every one wanted to give the man some advice after he told them of his dilemma.

“You have to listen to music, his musician friend announced. Notes, sounds,
music in harmonious rhythm, that is what keeps the Universe flowing.”

“No, no, my friend, you have to cleanse your soul from the temptations of
everyday life, the Buddhist proclaimed. Let the real you come through all the mist in front of your eyes. Free yourself through daily meditation.”

“The way to enlightenment is through the word of our beloved God; the Priest said with a cynical smile and took another long swig from the bottle of whiskey. That my son is the secret, only that.”

“Listen here my friend, do not listen to these sad people, the existentialist shouted, they all live in the notion of some afterlife utopia. You have to live your life here and now and experience everything for yourself. Do not let guilt destroy your happiness or your search for inspiration.”

One after the other, from the mayor to the beggar, the doctor to the builder, they all gave him advice on the secret of live and the golden path to artistic fulfilment and general happiness.

The next afternoon, after he had fed all the guests and sent them on their way, the man started going through his unpacked stuff searching for his old tape recorder. He sat down in front of the desk and started reading from his Holy Scriptures, while the music filled his soul with peaceful melodies.

“Ah, he sighed, and closed his eyes to meditate on the simplicity of life.”

After a while he could feel the calmness floating through his body and mind penetrating the grey matter where his soul gave a big yawn and turned onto its other side. Later, in the evening shadows of the setting sun, the man opened the empty book with the white paper and blue lines. In his hand was a pen full of dark black ink. Outside the window, in the house on the edge of the Garden of Eden, the river flowed as it always does. All around every living being did what it was suppose to do.

And the man tried his best to write down that which were stuck inside him.

But nothing happened. The paper stayed white, the ink frozen in the motionless pen. Blood red tears were streaming down the side of the man’s face until it turned the white paper into a runny mess.

In the town, not far away, all the man’s friends did what they did everyday.

Around me people are doing what they think is important.

*******

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_ Time & Distance _

U cn either feel BETTER or WORSE.
U cn either FORGET or REMEMBER even MORE.

U cn either HATE or LOVE.
U cn either feel STRONGER or WEAKER.

Time nd distance cn HEAL ur pain or HURT u more .

Time nd distance also, make u ”almost”
lose some frds .

Hard 2 believe but ppl cn change . .

_ Time & Distance _ cn do much .

-Maia-

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SAntosh Kalwar : hear your heart and use your facility to write the words which are in you …for to love and to live the happiness ^ – ^

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I thought I re post what I wrote on the Audition section.
It is something I feel very strongly about too.

I don’t know about you, but as I grow older I want to travel a bit lighter, meaning I want to enjoy my life’s journey and leave my heavy suitcase behind, where it belongs.
When I see the devastation that is surrounding us, I can’t help to ponder at what sort of legacy we are are leaving for our children and our grandchildren.
What have we achieved so far? I have read somewhere that over 5,000 years , we have had 3,000 years of war. Surely, we should have learned something out of that – Apparently not -
I know I might sound like an idealist, however, I want to live in a country without borders.
A place that will provide me with the substance and knowledge I need to make-up my own mind about life.
A place with one language. The language of the TRUTH.
A place where men will blend in what Nature’s Earth has to offer
- Where all minds will mingle -
A place without discrimination – where the sick and the disabled, the deaf, the blind and the mute will also have their say -

The Internet, in my opinion, is one of our most powerful weapons of mass consciousness that we have. It is a step forward, for the betterment of mankind.
I could not think of a better way to voice our concerns on subjects that matter to us and will, in the long run benefit our planet.

As we know, power is knowledge and the more knowledge we can gather, the more we can share around.

I thank you Paulo, for allowing me to participate.

P.S. I don’t know if you are aware of it, there is a free talking-book software called AMIS that plays Daisy Consortium software aimed at people with disabilities (visually impaired, dyslexic, blind and braille).
Daisy Consortium is a non-profit organisation that is established worldwide and various projects are being developped i.e. the Urakawa project – supported by the CWI of Netherlands, INRIA from France and the NRCD from Japan.
I found that information on the Pirate Coelho’s section under Wacko and many of Paulo’s books are available on these programs.

You can also download for free in pdf through Lulu “The way of the bow”, “Warrior of the Light” “Stories for parents, children and grandparents.”

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What a generous gesture, Paulo. Here’s a favorite scene from my yet unpublished novel, THE SWORD SWALLOWER’S DAUGHTER. Enjoy.

***

Saturday night at the Pike was a freaky mix of people. Early in the evening you’d see some families with children around my age, but usually not the clean-cut Dads and housewifey Moms you’d see on ‘Gidget’ or ‘Leave It To Beaver’. As the darkness fell and the neon lights began to glow and flash, when the sounds of the game barkers and shooting galleries and warped music tracks filled the air, the families went home and you saw the high school and college kids on dates, holding hands, smiling, wearing the latest styles—polyester bell bottoms and bright flowered or paisley shirts or blouses, carrying around huge stuffed animals they won at the booths. Daddy always steered us away from the really wild ones who roamed the Pike after dark, swaggering from the bars and smelling like beer and BO, who flicked their lit cigarette butts on the ground without grinding them out, whose cussing and use of the F word echoed through the din of sound. It was scary and exciting and strange and wonderful. It was the one place Daddy seemed happiest.

***

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Aqui les dejo un Reencuentro espectacular, despues de 12 años, que solo lo pudo hacer DIOS en:

http://gatoentexas.blogspot.com/search/label/ins%C3%B3lita%20y%20asombrosa

Abrazos a ti Paulo y todos tus lectores: El gato

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Yesterday whilst reading Paula talking about her Grandfather, I asked for a sign. My Mother died nearly seven years ago, and I have felt her prescence only once since.

Whilst I was staring into my garden, asking for this sign to come, I suddenly realised that I was staring at a nearly full moon, it was about 2:00 in the afternoon. and I wasn’t aware that it had been there two minutes earlier.

I realised with this sign, that she had been there all the time, I had been looking, but not ‘seeing’.

Then just to be sure I had understood, last night she came to me in a dream. It was a different reality, she was still alive, but she had decided to sell her house and move on giving all her posessions away as she no longer needed them.

So I awoke this morning feeling blessed, I no longer need to keep her posessions, I no longer need to feel my grief, she has moved on, and she is still with me, her love shining as brightly as ever.

Thank you.

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I am sorry for my poor English.I would like to translate some lines and put here.Maybe in future,when my skills in writing correctly would be fine.I want to write poetry,for I have such a admiration for poets.Maybe because I think I lack talent.I think writing a good valid poem is much more difficult than writing phrose.I am amazed by the tehnique used by Edgar Allan Poe,as one can feel reading his famous poem”The Raven”,or “Annabell Lee”.I love also his phrose,I know is not a favourite to everybody,but I feel him,through his lines.The result is amazing.Always touch my soul.
Generally I love romantic poems,in t5he real sense.Some think romantic means mild sweet ,but is wrong.Means powerful feeling,passion,stories about strong characters,my coleague was surprised hearing that Heathcliff,fromE,Bronte novel was a romantic character.I am not fond of him,but I am fond of characters that has distinct personality,I mean,able to sacrficife,brave,honest,wild in love.Hope I not make people to laugh now.
A thing I dont understand is why generally people say if an author is popular must be shallow.I think we must check before judging,but my personal experience showed me how hard is to chenge an opinion already taken.
Some says I am pathetic,with my sensitivity.I believe still now that saying “I love you”,has value.I met many that says I am a dreamer,wake up.Why?I cant live only for a job,or for eating.Love is important,I believe in its power even if I was hurt so many times.

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Disengaging (posted on my blog a couple of days ago)

Disengaging. Not retreating from life and hiding from responsibility, but extracting oneself from the harried chaotic velocity that has become mainstream in our culture in order to face the real issues. It takes strength to say no, I won’t be there because I need to sit quietly and feel my breath as I would sit on the shore in awe of the lapping waves. I need to know the miracle that is happening inside of me, intimately. It takes courage to own up to the fact that maybe you don’t want what everyone else has because that would mean your life would be a fast-paced race to pay for it, at the expense of the most precious gift you have– your time here. It takes honesty to come to terms with the fact that you would rather know the dew on the petals at dawn, the fragile spider web fluttering in the breeze, the smell of the earth in the forest after a rain, feel the quiet breath breathed by the universe as the sun arises, than spend hours in a concrete jungle searching for something to ease the anxiety and depression arising from your perceived separation from the all-that-truly-is. Disappoint others in order to be true to yourself. Don’t have any regrets when the hour of your death is upon you.

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I have been recently thinking about the society these days, how people live, how they spend their free time and how the communication means have been developed. The last one has two sides of the story. First is the positive impact it has in terms of connecting people from all over the worlds, making the thought, image and text sharing convenient and opening unlimited sources of information.

The other side does not look as nice as the first one. I have written a short poem to illustrate the negative impact of recent developments, which I’m glad to have the opportunity to post here.

Thank you Paolo for sharing your blog space and your audience with us.

here it is:

Sophisticated Miscommunication

Very fashionable 21st century family
where each is afront their own TV
Spending time in social networks
there’s no time left to talk
And having those nice cars
there’s no sense to walk
All are too busy to enjoy each other
maybe it’s not good, but they don’t even bother
Younger one’s don’t know what “family dinner” is
They take their plates to TV asking “Mummy please!”
Mummy after work is too tired to fight
although she knows that all this is not right
Where are the times when values were still there?
Where are the times when people spoke and cared?
Communication new means are created
to make the miscommunication more sophisticated
Where are we headed for and where will we be?
I’m scared to think of the 22nd century…..

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these are pages of my personal journal
Maybe tomorrow oct29 2008
This week has been one tough ride for me,so am desperately waiting for friday coz it is holiday yehey coz no exam,finally.haven’t slept well for past 3 days and can’t tonight too.Talk about frustration level,it has crossed the barometer,and is aiming for the sky.Talk about luck or being jinxed.When u study like hell ,whole night and go to school,with half an hour sleep only to find out that,the exam was cancelled yesterday,and am the only one not notified by the class president and all i get is sorry from her,as the consolation prize.So other friends end up studying more for the 2nd exam and u feel like sh** and u slug with the 2nd exam,knowing u can;t do it that well,with that less preperation.Call it cherry on top,where for 1st time i came 10 mins late in class coz of the uniform and i missed whole xam ,and could get the last 2 question only,Call it more to come where u have to sit at the end,when your dear freinds happen to be * greatest cheater,and do those unethical stuff of cheating right under ur nose,and since i wont tell,their name,( why? coz i am tired of being the hero been there done that doesn’t work complaining ppl)eventhough i see every freaking day,how my hard work goes to drain coz some have their cheating arrangement,made so well.So doctor smells the rat later when they saw similar score and punish all and who gets the worst blow?? me,wow and i see m cheater fren in front and am seated back.I think i had it for this week,i mean for past 2 years,i have given every people who have known me the benifit of the doubt that,i must be crazy,coz who holds on to stupid stuff like integrity when people go ahead with easy way out.I am so use to those words and comments nothing bothers me anymore.They call me dumb ,i humbly accept it,coz i never said i was bright.
BUt i did cry yesterday and today,maybe it was hard,for me,to be me,always out of place,and i hate the word victim,for the things i haven’t done.
I fight with God everyday these days more,threatening to quit,coz i think i dunno if i have that much strength to move on.People never change and i can;t change myself too,it’s like killing myself .Every night i pray saying ,every night ,i cry to papa(God) saying i will quit,do hell with the Gift.
If i had studied another subject i would have done PHD by now,or must have written or published books,or must be having boy friends like others and enjoying my life.I know i am not that bright like others,(otherwise i would be also bragging about myself,how smart and brilliant i am ,like my country mate who teamed up and slipped through easy way out and went back to my country already with a degree and i got caught up fighting for integrity,right and wrong).
But somehow God sees things differently.Everytime i cry at night thinking why,i am here,i know am not bright like them,i can’t memorize like them,( or arrange myself like them to cheat or find easy way out)maybe i can analyze things differently but who cares?All they see is score,eventhough they know they cheat.
But I don’t know why God never give ups on me.More i fight with God asking for answer,more dreams he gives me,even though i take a nap for half an hour.I had this series of dream,in one dream i saw the future,where i was riding my Red car.( never like that color,but maybe by that tme i will like maybe),and i saw one woman dying on road ,whom i tired to help saying am a doctor but she refused to take my help coz dunno why and died.I was invited by some people for lunch and they were treating me like some important person,Good thing is i saw a new face of my country.( improved briges and infrastructure)
In 3 dreams i have seen i have healed children and given them sight,just placing my hand on their eyes or just touching them.last dream was when i saw my name and photo as Dr R with another lady doctor,in a newspaper,It was dated in future and we had done something that was mentioned there but i don’t know what.But it had written as if we had found out something very important or done something.I leave that to future.Another dream was i saw one scientist working in a lab,and talking baout some *AIDS stuff* ,i heard him saying something which i don’t remember,and i was standing there and in my mind i was saying,* hey thats wrong thats not the correct way,* to him ,he was talking with someone over the Phone explaining his research.Then i looked out of the window and saw a Big huge tree and i told myself,i will find out when the color of the bark of that tree will change to orange,then i will find the answer,Then i woke up.I will check this journal maybe in future that is the importance of writing jorunal.
But today i felt loathed to go to class.Somehow i ended up half an hours late while making up my mind but again i had to give the surprise quiz .it never rain but pours.
But the interesting thing happened was in surgery class,when our orthopedic doctor was lecturing.He asked question to everyone,and i have already given up the habit of answering in class,coz there are many bright people there,no need for a loner like me to open my mouth.But what struck me was his sentence* You can’t see what your mind doesn’t know*,even if you put right infront of your eyes,you will never see,coz you dunno what ur looking at.I was angry, sad with,myself,with God ,with everyone,maybe .In my mind i was telling God,why you want me to be doctor,when i don’t even like it anymore.I know you have given a gift to me,but i dunno what it is,and am tired of it.
Then the doc place an X ray slide infront of the class and asked everyone to see and tell,what they see.
Hands were raising up,everyone the bright one giving answers,but somehow they didn;t find what doc was looking for.I avoided answering like any other time.One of the classmate found out a little clue but not exactly.
My friends were called up,and i thought of helping him out,i told him to look at the other side,doctor saw me and asked me to try,So i reluctantly,pointed out what i saw.* I said,* maybe the fracture is here,and i pointed out,and viola ,he said yes correct,*You have very good sharp eyes to see that.I wont blame you if you don;t find anything here coz this is for us ortheopedic surgeon,and us trained eyes,not untrained like urs,but i just want to know what can you see.*He asked others but still all gave wrong answers.So again i thought,of speaking my mind,* Doc i think i can see more fractures here,* He told me ,* what can you see just tell me,* i just explained that i can see the diffrences in the desnity,and the minute fractures ,and the different colors,and so on.So i hit the Jack pot.* lol.
Doc praised me saying.* u can see things beyond what others eyes can see,she gave the correct answer,and when he showed the xray after the operation one,the fractures where exactly where i had told them.* For once I was stunned.Doc added that,* you have very good clinical eyes,maybe you have 4 eyes glasses,we all laughed.*
I had remained quiet for long,coz don’t feel like talking or answering,so i felt different answering like that after long time.* My class mate teased me* give me your eyes,how did you see that.* others just stared at me.Maybe they found it kinda unbeliveable,when the quiet one speaks.*
But i realized few mins ago i was fighting or wrestling with God saying.* why i should be doctor,when i am always the subject of heartache for their authority( i challenged some in terms of honesty and judgement and faced serious ocnsequences.They all glitter but i have nothing to glitter.Maybe God gave me answer today at that moment throught my teachers’ mouth.* you can see things beyond what other cannot see and you have good clincial eyes.*
It is true that i can analyse many things ,differntly,and can explain,thats why i use to hit above 95,when i had to explain the disease coz i use plastic filled water eraser and simple stuff to explain.maybe God has given me certain gift ,so that i can help people later.
I felt like useless helpless frustrated,in the morning but that doctors sentence gave the new hope again.Maybe i do have something and it will reveal in due course of time in future.So eventhough am always the victim of the injustice,bad timming,peopl’s hate or jelosuy,bad remarks the back bencher.I will move on coz no one knows tomorrw.God, the fate of this ignorant mind is in your hand,use it,according to your will.
Sometimes you don’t have to be the fastest,brightest,smartest, or the best,all you have to do is just believe and move on even though,time potrays you as a loser.Maybe one day the tiny snail will climb the mount everest,despite it’s size,despite the cold weather,despite the height of everest.*
Hope* the snail*
ps.i write my journal so i can rummage these pages in future,and also want to tell people how God works mysteriously in all of us.I am not proud of myself,but i am proud of the fact that God chose me, not so bright person, to give his gift.If your father gives you a wonderful gift like dress or your favourite stuff like guitar,wouldn;t you show to the world saying,i got this gift.Well thats what i do,when God gives me gift,when i am not even suppose to have them but he is kind to me,so i get it.Like Moses,how he made a humble hebrew into prince and again into a rebeller,and also made him the leader.* when he asked God,*how can i lead my people,i dunno how to speak,am not even good at speaking or talking,my brother is better speaker than me.* God replies to him saying.* who gave you mouth to speak,and your eyes to see,i gave you all,just go and do as i said,i will fill our mouth with the right word,and so a feeble quiet person like Moses becomes the great leader leading his people out of Egypt,and he became the important figurehead in muslim and christianity till date.Thats how God works,in a mysterious way,he didn’t choose the best speaker ,but chose the quiet perosn who couldnt; even stand infront of the crowd to be his people’s leader.Thats why God has different eyes than us and he see and does things differently.

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Thanks Paulo for opening up an opportunity for us.
Somehow old incognito warriors feel like Joshua Bell in the underground, with the need to play and few listeners interested. I would like to quote Einstein today (I will leave Hermetic thoughts for later on):
“Great spirits have often encountered violent opposition from weak minds.”
I would add to this quote that not only great spirits, but ordinary people with bright ideas also face that. We must continue, no matter what, however we must pay careful attention to “how” we change the world. Please mind you that:
“The light that shines twice as bright shines half as long”. Blade Runner
“Bright lights blind”.
All the best,
Hernán

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