Sunday, April 4, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Personal experiences after these people realised their true Self through the Gnan Vidhi.
" Gnan means Knowledge. Vidhi means the Process. In Akram Vignan the new Scientific Path to Self-realization, one enters the Realm and the Glory of the Self and its natural Bliss through the Gnan Vidhi which is the Gift of Gnani Purush Dadashri .....
The Gnan of Dadashri is an Experience. It is not an intellectual excercise and it is not something out of scriptures, or quasi-commercial spiritual enterprises, so rampant in the name of religion. "
You can learn more about Gnan vidhi through:
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Gnan means Knowledge. Vidhi means the Process. In Akram Vignan the new Scientific Path to Self-realization, one enters the Realm and the Glory of the Self and its natural Bliss through the Gnan Vidhi which is the Gift of Gnani Purush Dadashri to the highly disturbed and troubled world of the modern era. Here Feather continues her experiences and shares the obvious differences from the traditional Advaita /Vedantic teachings and experiences.The Gnan of Dadashri is an Experience. It is not an intellectual excercise and it is not something out of scriptures, or quasi-commercial spiritual enterprises, so rampant in the name of religion.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Thursday, September 18, 2008
US President Bush also put the blame in the financial sector.
But the fact is that anyone who have had dealing with the financial sector know for many years that greed is the dominating factor in all the dealing and wheeling behind the machine. Would you sleep beside a mad dog and expect it not to bite you one of this night?
The regulator agents of the financial sector were turning a blind eye and that is the main problem. I remember a few months before the US housing & mortgage market turn sour, a fellow blogger predicted the melt down and if I remember correctly his post has a title something like "get off the bus" meaning to advise people to get off the financial market because the crash would be bad. He was right and he was advising us in a tone of urgency. Now how could no one in our government and financial regulator not see it coming., when both our blogger and Warren Buffett did.
Few years back I remember President Bush once announced that since his presidency, there are more family owning their own home. Given us an indication that the policy of this government has a hand in facilitating the financial and the housing market then. He took credit for it at that time when the housing market has not turn south.
The problem will only be fixed when the world government take resposibility in the failure of their own doing or lack of surpervision of their finance. Instead, their solution now is to find scapegoat and print more money to combat the problem.
How much more new money are coming off from the printing press? Well, what do I care, my 2 cents is worth nothing already anyway.
Monday, August 25, 2008
This is the Olympic story we never heard.
It’s about a girl whose Beijing moment lasted a mere 32 seconds – the slowest 200-meter dash time out of the 46 women who competed in the event. Thirty-two seconds that almost nobody saw but that she carries home with her, swelled with joy and wonderment. Back to a decades-long civil war that has flattened much of her city. Back to an Olympic program with few Olympians and no facilities. Back to meals of flat bread, wheat porridge and tap water.
“I have my pride,” she said through a translator before leaving China. “This is the highest thing any athlete can hope for. It has been a very happy experience for me. I am proud to bring the Somali flag to fly with all of these countries, and to stand with the best athletes in the world.”
There are many life stories that collide in each Olympics – many intriguing tales of glory and tragedy. Beijing delivered the electricity of Usain Bolt and the determination of Michael Phelps. It left hearts heavy with the disappointment of Liu Xiang and the heartache of Hugh McCutcheon.
But it also gave us Samia Yusuf Omar – one small girl from one chaotic country – and a story that might have gone unnoticed if it hadn’t been for a roaring half-empty stadium.
It was Aug. 19, and the tiny girl had crossed over seven lanes to find her starting block in her 200-meter heat. She walked past Jamaica’s Veronica Campbell-Brown – the eventual gold medalist in the event. Samia had read about Campbell-Brown in track and field magazines and once watched her in wonderment on television. As a cameraman panned down the starting blocks, it settled on lane No. 2, on a 17-year old girl with the frame of a Kenyan distance runner. Samia’s biography in the Olympic media system contained almost no information, other than her 5-foot-4, 119-pound frame. There was no mention of her personal best times and nothing on previous track meets. Somalia, it was later explained, has a hard time organizing the records of its athletes.
She looked so odd and out of place among her competitors, with her white headband and a baggy, untucked T-shirt. The legs on her wiry frame were thin and spindly, and her arms poked out of her sleeves like the twigs of a sapling. She tugged at the bottom of her shirt and shot an occasional nervous glance at the other runners in her heat. Each had muscles bulging from beneath their skin-tight track suits. Many outweighed Samia by nearly 40 pounds.
After introductions, she knelt into her starting block.
The country of Somalia sent two athletes to the Beijing Games – Samia and distance runner Abdi Said Ibrahim, who competed in the men’s 5,000-meter event. Like Samia, Abdi finished last in his event, overmatched by competitors who were groomed for their Olympic moment. Somalia has only loose-knit programs supporting its Olympians, few coaches, and few facilities. With a civil war tearing the city apart since the Somali government’s collapse in 1991, Mogadishu Stadium has become one of the bloodiest pieces of real estate in the city – housing U.N. forces in the early 1990s and now a military compound for insurgents.
That has left the country’s track athletes to train in Coni Stadium, an artillery-pocked structure built in 1958 which has no track, endless divots, and has been overtaken by weeds and plants.
“Sports are not a priority for Somalia,” said Duran Farah, vice president of the Somali Olympic Committee. “There is no money for facilities or training. The war, the security, the difficulties with food and everything – there are just many other internal difficulties to deal with.”
That leaves athletes such as Samia and 18-year old Abdi without the normal comforts and structure enjoyed by almost every other athlete in the Olympic Games. They don’t receive consistent coaching, don’t compete in meets on a regular basis and struggle to find safety in something as simple as going out for a daily run.
When Samia cannot make it to the stadium, she runs in the streets, where she runs into roadblocks of burning tires and refuse set out by insurgents. She is often bullied and threatened by militia or locals who believe that Muslim women should not take part in sports. In hopes of lessening the abuse, she runs in the oppressive heat wearing long sleeves, sweat pants and a head scarf. Even then, she is told her place should be in the home – not participating in sports.
“For some men, nothing is good enough,” Farah said.
Even Abdi faces constant difficulties, passing through military checkpoints where he is shaken down for money. And when he has competed in sanctioned track events, gun-toting insurgents have threatened his life for what they viewed as compliance with the interim government.
“Once, the insurgents were very unhappy,” he said. “When we went back home, my friends and I were rounded up and we were told if we did it again, we would get killed. Some of my friends stopped being in sports. I had many phone calls threatening me, that if I didn’t stop running, I would get killed. Lately, I do not have these problems. I think probably they realized we just wanted to be athletes and were not involved with the government.”
But the interim government has not been able to offer support, instead spending its cash and energy arming Ethiopian allies for the fight against insurgents. Other than organizing a meet to compete for Olympic selection – in which the Somali Olympic federation chose whom it believed to be its two best performers – there has been little lavished on athletes. While other countries pour millions into the training and perfecting of their Olympic stars, Somalia offers little guidance and no doctors, not even a stipend for food.
“The food is not something that is measured and given to us every day,” Samia said. “We eat whatever we can get.”
On the best days, that means getting protein from a small portion of fish, camel or goat meat, and carbohydrates from bananas or citrus fruits growing in local trees. On the worst days – and there are long stretches of those – it means surviving on water and Angera, a flat bread made from a mixture of wheat and barley.
“There is no grocery store,” Abdi said. “We can’t go shopping for whatever we want.”
He laughs at this thought, with a smile that is missing a front tooth.
When the gun went off in Samia’s 200-meter heat, seven women blasted from their starting blocks, registering as little as 16 one-hundredths of a second of reaction time. Samia’s start was slow enough that the computer didn’t read it, leaving her reaction time blank on the heat’s statistical printout.
Within seconds, seven competitors were thundering around the curve in Beijing’s Bird’s Nest, struggling to separate themselves from one another. Samia was just entering the curve when her opponents were nearing the finish line. A local television feed had lost her entirely by the time Veronica Campbell-Brown crossed the finish line in a trotting 23.04 seconds.
As the athletes came to a halt and knelt, stretching and sucking deep breaths, a camera moved to ground level. In the background of the picture, a white dot wearing a headband could be seen coming down the stretch.
Until this month, Samia had been to two countries outside of her own – Djibouti and Ethiopia. Asked how she will describe Beijing, her eyes get big and she snickers from under a blue and white Olympic baseball cap.
“The stadiums, I never thought something like this existed in the world,” she said. “The buildings in the city, it was all very surprising. It will probably take days to finish all the stories we have to tell.”
Asked about Beijing’s otherworldly Water Cube, she lets out a sigh: “Ahhhhhhh.”
Before she can answer, Abdi cuts her off.
“I didn’t know what it was when I saw it,” he said. “Is it plastic? Is it magic?”
Few buildings are beyond two or three stories tall in Mogadishu, and those still standing are mostly in tatters. Only pictures will be able to describe some of Beijing’s structures, from the ancient architecture of the Forbidden City to the modernity of the Water Cube and the Bird’s Nest.
“The Olympic fire in the stadium, everywhere I am, it is always up there,” Samia said. “It’s like the moon. I look up wherever I go, it is there.”
These are the stories they will relish when they return to Somalia, which they believe has, for one brief moment, united the country’s warring tribes. Farah said he had received calls from countrymen all over the world, asking how their two athletes were doing and what they had experienced in China. On the morning of Samia’s race, it was just after 5 a.m., and locals from her neighborhood were scrambling to find a television with a broadcast.
“People stayed awake to see it,” Farah said. “The good thing, sports is the one thing which unites all of Somalia.”
That is one of the common threads they share with every athlete at the Games. Just being an Olympian and carrying the country’s flag brings an immense sense of pride to families and neighborhoods which typically know only despair.
A pride that Samia will share with her mother, three brothers and three sisters. A pride that Abdi will carry home to his father, two brothers and two sisters. Like Samia’s father two years ago, Abdi’s mother was killed in the civil war, by a mortar shell that hit the family’s home in 1993.
“We are very proud,” Samia said. “Because of us, the Somali flag is raised among all the other nations’ flags. You can’t imagine how proud we were when we were marching in the Opening Ceremonies with the flag.
“Despite the difficulties and everything we’ve had with our country, we feel great pride in our accomplishment.”
As Samia came down the stretch in her 200-meter heat, she realized that the Somalian Olympic federation had chosen to place her in the wrong event. The 200 wasn’t nearly the best event for a middle distance runner. But the federation believed the dash would serve as a “good experience” for her. Now she was coming down the stretch alone, pumping her arms and tilting her head to the side with a look of despair.
Suddenly, the half-empty stadium realized there was still a runner on the track, still pushing to get across the finish line almost eight seconds behind the seven women who had already completed the race. In the last 50 meters, much of the stadium rose to its feet, flooding the track below with cheers of encouragement. A few competitors who had left Samia behind turned and watched it unfold.
As Samia crossed the line in 32.16 seconds, the crowd roared in applause. Bahamian runner Sheniqua Ferguson, the next smallest woman on the track at 5-foot-7 and 130 pounds, looked at the girl crossing the finish and thought to herself, “Wow, she’s tiny.”
“She must love running,” Ferguson said later.
Several days later, Samia waved off her Olympic moment as being inspirational. While she was still filled with joy over her chance to compete, and though she knew she had done all she could, part of her seemed embarrassed that the crowd had risen to its feet to help push her across the finish line.
“I was happy the people were cheering and encouraging me,” she said. “But I would have liked to be cheered because I won, not because I needed encouragement. It is something I will work on. I will try my best not to be the last person next time. It was very nice for people to give me that encouragement, but I would prefer the winning cheer.
She shrugged and smiled.
“I knew it was an uphill task.”
And there it was. While the Olympics are often promoted for the fastest and strongest and most agile champions, there is something to be said for the ones who finish out of the limelight. The ones who finish last and leave with their pride.
At their best, the Olympics still signify competition and purity, a love for sport. What represents that better than two athletes who carry their country’s flag into the Games despite their country’s inability to carry them before that moment? What better way to find the best of the Olympic spirit than by looking at those who endure so much that would break it?
“We know that we are different from the other athletes,” Samia said. “But we don’t want to show it. We try our best to look like all the rest. We understand we are not anywhere near the level of the other competitors here. We understand that very, very well. But more than anything else, we would like to show the dignity of ourselves and our country.”
She smiles when she says this, sitting a stone’s throw from a Somalian flag that she and her countryman Abdi brought to these Games. They came and went from Beijing largely unnoticed, but may have been the most dignified example these Olympics could offer.
Charles Robinson is a national NFL writer for Yahoo! Sports.
Friday, July 4, 2008
This is not a religion, nothing to do with guru and it is unlike the usual path to achieve liberation. Not similar to any other spiritual quest and retreat in India at all. They have nothing to sell you and no money is involved .... I was curious.
I went with an open mind.
I still conduct my same worldly life as before but with a fundenmental difference now .... you may question how is this possible within 2 hours ?????
Take the plunge one last time .... Go and meet Akram Vignan with an open mind.
"Jai Sat Chit Anand"
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
I heard this saying somewhere, something like this:
//until you live somewhere where everyone is different from you, you'll not feel truely belong.//
This seems to me to be saying that everyone do entitle to how they live this world and when we let other be who they are, we can then truly accept who we are.
Unfortunately Adrienne was murdered back in 2006 in New York. (the picture above is not Adrienne Shelly)
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
At the beginning of the movie I did not like it, I thought it was dumped with cheap camera trick and special effect just for its own sake like so many movie nowaday, but as it progress it is obviouse they were done for a reason, I began to enjoy the telling of the plot.
The trailer makes you feel that it is a kind of horror thriller but it is not.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wilberforce was an English member of parliament and social reformer who was very influential in the abolition of the slave trade and eventually slavery itself in the British empire. //
//John Newton wrote the words to - Amazing Grace - one of the most beloved hymns of all time between 1760 and 1770, while working as an evangelical pastor. Son of the commander of a merchant ship, Newton was captain of a slave ship for many years, until he underwent a dramatic religious conversion while steering his vessel through a storm.
Repenting and regretting the misery he had inflicted on the thousands of human cargo he had transported across the Middle Passage for many years, he devoted his life to the Church, and wrote the lyrics to many hymns which are still popular today.
In 1780 Newton left Olney to become rector of St. Mary Woolnoth, St. Mary Woolchurch, in London. There he drew large congregations and influenced many, among them William Wilberforce. Newton continued to preach until the last year of life, although he was blind by that time. He died in London December 21, 1807.//
Sunday, November 18, 2007
//Shameless says : Those people I've given this award to are encouraged to post it on their own blogs; list three things they believe are necessary for good, powerful writing; and then pass the award on to the five blogs they want to honour, who in turn pass it on to five others, etc etc. Let's send a roar through the blogosphere! The image above can be copied and pasted onto other blogs. Also, a small size of the award for sidebars can be found over at the writing circle site. //
I said to Eric that it is most mistaken to honour me with this award especially it has to do with words & writing, although I do thank him for thinking of me. The truth is words, writing & verbal skill is my weakest link, I am better at visual and tactile skill cause I was born a painter. So I can let you know that I do not write to think of writing well and I do not look for good piece of writing to read, I read to make an emotional connection and to expand my curiosity.
3 things for me making powerful writing:
1/the author risked to open his/her heart.
2/a topic that meant deep to the author.
3/writing with a passion despite of not knowing how.
Before I pass on the award I like to let known that I believe in "blogging without obligation" - a term that I learn from rubyshooz. Those 5 blogs that I pass the award are welcome to chose to respond or not, and I respect their decision.
I would like to pass on the Roar award to:
Hazel of Self vs Self .... Hazel is an artist in Australia, I have always like the direct and honest way she writes. She is definitely an artist that speaks her own voice and not just in her painting but in her writing as well.
Kelly of Dark Victorian .... I like how Kelly sometimes exposing her deeper anguish and feeling, laying them open for you to read. At times her writing is very inspirational., sometimes sweet and sometimes educational. Kelly is also talented in making fashion wear and runs another blog about that.
Eric of 8 mile love grafitti .... Eric is a poet and an exceptional one I think. His poem seems to require the utmost involvement from the reader to take a journey with him ... an out of body experience and this is what I wish to achieve with my painting one day.
Singleton of The Hippie Parade .... Singleton colorful chains of words sent peace, love & hope to every corner of the world. Both Singleton words and Eric poems are not easy for me to read and understand but they have enough power and intrigue to make me go back again and again... I just cannot explain why. Singleton is also a very talented visual artist, an exceptional colorist.
Paddy of Momentary madness ...... Paddy has since said goodbye to the blog sphere, however his impact on me is so hugh that I do not think I would forget about him. I do hope that he'll come back blogging one day and those who know him would very likely agree with me that he deserve this Roar awards even in his absence.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
(click on picture to see his exhibit)
paintings & Tapestries
Printed on his exhibition catalog John said:
In the wake of 9/11, not only did America come together -- the whole world stood with us. “Today,” it was repeated
everywhere, “we are all Americans.” With breathtaking arrogance, exceeded only by stunning incompetence, the
Bush/Cheney administration destroyed that unity in a matter of months.
The disastrous failures of the administration have come at a tragic cost both at home and abroad. And the
aftermath of its tactics have unfairly saddled the young people in these images with a shameful legacy. How could
their parents’ generation have gone along with a trumped-up and irrelevant “preemptive war?” How could they
have accepted a gulag of secret prisons, tacitly approved of torture, tolerated illegal domestic spying and all the rest?
How is it that at each critical juncture, the media and the Democrats were cowed into acquiescence? Could the
administration’s flag-waving and fear mongering really have been so intimidating?
In fact, during the headlong rush to war, millions of people both in America and across the world took to the streets
in opposition to the reckless hubris of the president and his men. Some of the pictures here record the language of
those protests. But their voices were glibly dismissed by the smirking ideologues in charge. Instead, they blundered
on with upside-down strategies that unified and multiplied our enemies even as they divided and alienated our
friends. They eroded American justice and devastated our nation’s moral standing in the world.
And so today our vulnerabilities have hardly diminished. A new attack would, as we saw on 9/11, bring out America’s
best, just as surely as it would fail to defeat us. On the contrary, we are defeated when the enormous tragedy of
such a crime is played on to license illegitimate war and the corruption of a free society.
September 6, 2006
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Subject: Ponder this; no matter what, or how important we might think we are ..... JUST BE HAPPY
Humbling and exhilarating at the same time....
Now, THIS is really fascinating - it's rather dazzling to see it presented this way
I certainly thought this was enlightening. beyond our sun ... it's a big universe
ANTARES IS ONLY THE 15th BRIGHTEST STAR IN THE SKY
It is more than 1000 light years away.
NOW HOW BIG ARE YOU?
Monday, October 8, 2007
Thank you a thousand times my friends, you all have help me out regrading my last post. I did not know if it was a good idea asking your opinion & help about my painting. As it turns out all your comments have helped me to understand painting so much more, which I did not expect. It is also important for me to realise that an honest heartfelt opinion that I get from a friend is the best gift there is.
Looks like I'll not have time blogging too much for a couple of weeks and I may not be able to pay you a visit yet.
Take care you all..
Friday, October 5, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
"Not too long ago I was self-diagnosed for having cancer and scared myself for about 3 days before my friend told me that I probably have a hernia. I confess I do analyse things too much."
Monday, September 24, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Sharing with you below, the santana guiter & the mongolian song .... sori for a bit too MTV for the mongolian song, also it is sang in Chinese not Mongolian but still the singing resonate from miles away!
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
love is hypocrisy without truth."
I quote the above two sentences from Andrew, taken out of a conversation we had at the Hungtington garden. We talked about what that meant. If we could only extract the wisdom from it and apply to relationship with everyone and everything, then I said to Andrew it will indeed be:
"heaven on earth."
I changed the word truth into honesty as I feel it is dangerous to assert what truth is. I think it is more about being honest from within....
Monday, July 9, 2007
I love the land of Mongolia and my friend told me that it is somewhat like Montana. I have never been to Montana so I do not know, but I was in Mongolia twice and I think I have fallen in love. I love the Mongolian, their faces, their singing, their harsh and simplicity of life. When I first felt the vastness of the land, tasted the sweet clean air and looked into the deep blue sky with big white clouds playing above, I knew I was home. If I were to come back in a second life I would not mind riding on horses, sleeping in yurt and behaving like a Mongolian, whatever that meant.
Below I have posted 2 songs to celebrate and hope you'll enjoy these songs with me....they are in Mongolian so I do not know what they say..... but who need words when you are in love, no?
The 1st video below is called "Mongolian family in the steppe".
The 2nd video is dedicated to Rob and his "absent" friend as well as to all lost friends .....
It is called " Minni naiz". this is probably one of the saddest story that I have seen....and I think you do not need word to understand it.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
The sadness that I speak of cannot be willed away nor is it an incident that you can point your magic wand, to have the sadness reversed. I have live with it for a long time, thinking it is something incomplete to be made whole with happiness -my life will be perfect once I become happy so I figured. Try getting rid of your old dog and drop it many blocks away, it can always smell its way home.
Lately, this sadness was like a siren calling from the most seductive temptress, it was hypnotic . I was mesmerized, scared and excited at the same time, I then saw a tunnel of pathway that I proceed cautiously for fear of monsters lurking around. The path was dark an unfamiliarity yet I seem to had vaguely visited many times before, may be in my dreams or were they nightmares. I went forward then hesitated, I thought of my safe haven. I really should have turn back but I could not give up this curiosity that lashed within. My life was going o.k. not spectacular but then how do you define spectacular, let just say my life has been made full with painting - my most recent haven. Painting given me a way to take my mind off the insignificance in life, it has become my life. But then as this life seems to be going well the siren seems the loudest again , my life was suddenly challenged throwing me back into this anxiety amidst calm.
As I got further down this path I could feel a draft went by me and suddenly it was as if the air was sucked out of this space where I stood. My feet was lifted off as if you were in zero gravity, the most unfamiliar feeling but when the initial shock past, I was dangling & floating. Perhaps like I was in my mothers' womb when I had no concept of what world is....in a split second I started to write, paint, laugh, cry and express like water gushing out a broken faucet. As the flow of water fill the space where only vacuum occupied a minute before I then noticed where I was, this was the void inside me that was beginning to manifest itself. It was in fact not an empty void but very full.
The same void that huanted me when I was growing up, the void that made me feel less of a person, incomplete and agonised with longing. The very thing that I was helpless about and conveniently tried to ditch, but like an old dog wagging its tail it came back home again.
The difference is.... this time I am stepping into it...to wander around, taking a stroll to play with friaries and monsters. I put down my guard entering with no judgement of myself anymore, hence when I speak from my void I care not if I am expressing a "negative" sentiment. Positively speaking there is no positive nor negative existence in this space. However, if I stumble onto sadness that is what will come out while I speak or paint. When I express myself from this space all sort of thing may come forth through no filtering of sort. Thus I could mention to you that I fear I am not a good enough person or that I think I am clumsy, mean and anti-social. This is very much the me speaking through the guilt I experience many moons ago, hidden deep within and yearn to be released. The child need to be acknowledged before a child can move on so to speak. Hence I paint or speak whatever came up to me whether it is for or against me. Perhaps at times that could be translated into being "negative" in our society...... it does not in me. I am only trying to channel the void - in whatever form it is - back into my life and my life is my art. I believe art do not distinguish between negative nor positive ... I'll leave that to the art critics.....art like life simply is ......a form of expression, and creativity comes with the freedom to express.
Does this mean my life and my art will be sad and that I only dealt into the negative experience in life? I do not think so and I certainly hope not, but that will have to be "judged" by people I come into contact with and those who will see my art. However, a word of caution... that those who judge is in fact judging themselves. I have heard other asked many times why always dealt into the negative side of life?....I sigh! In my daily life It is already hard enough trying not to judge other people, therefore within myself and my art I rather not dealt into the negativity nor positivity. In short, I do not judge if I am being "negative"... I simply "dealt".
Sometimes the sweetest part is the sadness in life, and it is up to each person to treat that as negative or positive. I prefer to call it neither, it just is. .....looking at it this way, it becomes for me an affirmation of life. I do not know if bathing in negativity is the answer, but without inviting negativity I shake hands with it when it comes, it seems to have work wonders. So far it has given me clarity in art, but the future I do not hold. The following serves only as a thought..... if one chase only the "positivity" in life one may be trying to bend the rule of nature and I am afraid it may be positively negative.......negatively speaking!
Saturday, June 23, 2007
I often felt like this with painting too, but then with painting I have been teased enough.... long enough for me now to gain the upper hand. I have learnt their way and know how to perform a dance to beg for rain. Well people told me stick to what I am good at, I guess I should listen to them...... but then again may be not. How do I know what I am good at, I don't do I? Good at???...good at what???.... good compare to who, compare to what. I only know I want to do something, try some writing....write despite of not knowing how.
Language is just not my thing, I was bad at composition at school many decades ago. I haven't written anything since then - not even a page of diary, except an occasional love note that I copied from lyric of songs and posed as my own to try to wow the love of my dream. (It did not work) Never thought I was born a verbal person anyway. I was a quiet child, an introspective child. My mum would suddenly jog me out of my existence and ask" Hey tim what are you so quiet about now?" I was only 9? 10? 11? how would I know how to answer this grown up question - "is it not proper to keep to yourself ?" I wonder then. I was sure sometimes they thought I was angry, I felt guilty about that. In my little mind I wish then someone could understand that I was simply enjoying myself by myself staring out the window. I was not even sure why I did that, looking at what? I just spaced out, that was me and still is. May be this is a sign of insanity manifested at a young age.
While I was growing up, I could not understand how come some people have so much to talk about. I mean some talk no000n-stop at anything and everything, I saw people listening to them so they must be interesting. I wonder, but I was sure that they are not insane, I was the one who had the problem I thought. Soon I tried to fit in; tried to be smart; jammed myself with knowledge; tried to excel at what I do; competing; comparing and always comparing fearing of being left behind. All along thinking I know who I am and where I want to get to but deep down inside I knew a void was brewing bigger and bigger by the day. In a split second, lapsed into adulthood, middle age, past that and up the hill, over the hill finally while on my way down realising that I am insane.
I have always been insane to have given up my solitude. To have stop staring out the window, to have stop daydreaming. Insane to think I know who I am and know what I am good at.....and what not good at. Old habit die hard, I still think I cannot write, still think I am not good at it. But, ...."not good at"..... compare to what? Who and what I am comparing to, I am still wondering. Suddenly it is 2.09am - two hours past midnight - I have been wondering for 2 hours and still nothing came out of this dried up desert of a brain of mind. So I guess I go and perform my rain dance and pray that when I wake up in the morning, I would have written something in my dream.
So I went to bed and drifting off into that state between sleep and dream, vaguely I heard someone appearing, I cannot make out his face but I thought I recognise his voice - I knew he was Paddy from a blog that I listen to, although the sound is faint but the voice is crisp, I thought he said //"go on and start writing...exactly like painting, I'm sure you have started with an idea of some kind to paint something and you find it turned out completely different; taken on a life of its own. I find that with writing. The best personal results are unexpected."// After that I must have dozed off completely, I am not sure if Paddy really appear in my dream but the advise is sound. May be I'll try that, I'll just go ahead to begin a writing. Lets see, here I start with putting down " Since Wednesday until now..........
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
I am inspired by them, hence here attempt to ocasionally put down something in writing to make sense or nonsense out of myself.
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