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 As the first blog entry got exhausted. My second book |
| Evolution of Love Part 2 |
| I encountered a near fatal glider crash in New Zealand in 2022, falling down two hundred meters. I had an incredible eleven-minute near-death experience when my soul came out of my body and I was given the choice to die or to return to life. Unable to decide, I was restored to life. Yet a nightmare awaited me. The doctor declared that either my right foot was to be amputated or the bones would die from avascular necrosis. Refusing to fall into the paradoxical disability trap, I integrated the traditional Chinese aesthetics and Indian Ayurvedic medicine into modern psychological treatment and discovered the vital key to activate the enormous self-healing power that lies inside us, the subconscious. I healed my physical injury and overcame the haunting depression, reborn and recovered with freedom and wisdom. Now, I am standing on my own feet again and my footsteps have reached nearly forty countries. If every man who comes back from death is meant to carry a special mission, then I believe that my most important mission is to share my miracle recovery story because a miracle is not exclusive to me, but equally shared by everyone on this planet. I am merely a selected storyteller. All of a sudden, the light switched on again. I felt being re-connected. My vision was somewhat fuzzy from that sudden change of brightness in the first second. Then a glimpse of light came into my eyes, bright yet warm and gentle, just like the first ray of the sunrise. ‘The darkness is over. Welcome to the brightness,’ the golden light said to me. I found myself bathed in a sea of golden light, so peaceful and calm. I was fully embraced by a comforting love and gentleness. I also found my body dazzling, reflecting rays of golden light. The sense of warmth and love saturated me. I felt complete and infinite. I was composed of lights in that realm. I was a part of the light. I still had a body shape, but there was no boundary, like how we can see the sunlight, but cannot tell its boundary. Or if you pour some alcohol into a glass of water, it doesn’t dissolve but it would mix perfectly into the water. It was incredible! The second thing I noticed was that I was not breathing and my heart had stopped beating. Or I should say I no longer needed any breath or heartbeat. I found myself floating in the vacuum. As I was wondering if either my own weight or the gravity was lost, I looked down and saw the trashed body of the glider. Fragments of glass and metals were scattered all over the ground. The glider wings and tail were completely ruined. I looked closer and saw a broken young man lying there dying inside the compartment. His shirt was covered in blood. His wounds were bleeding badly. His forearm was broken. A white bone jutted out from his wrist. Even worse, the right ankle joint was horribly smashed and distorted. In horror, I realized this man looked just like me! That’s my body! Welcome to my nightmare. I think you're gonna like it." I knew I was dying. |
| My struggle to live that night, I hardly knew what I was fighting for. A male friend and I had gone for a walk up a mountain near my home. Four armed men caught us and made us climb to a secluded spot, where they raped me for several hours, and beat both of us. They argued among themselves about whether or not to kill us, and finally let us go. At 17, I was just a child. Life rewarded me richly for surviving. I stumbled home, wounded and traumatized, to a fabulous family. With them on my side, so much came my way. I found true love. I wrote books. I saw a kangaroo in the wild. I caught buses and missed trains. I had a shining child. The century changed. My first gray hair appeared. Too many others will never experience that. They will not see that it gets better, that the day comes when one incident is no longer the central focus of your life. One day you find you are no longer looking behind you, expecting every group of men to attack. One day you wind a scarf around your throat without having a flashback to being choked. One day you are not frightened anymore. Rape is horrible. But it is not horrible for all the reasons that have been drilled into the heads of women. It is horrible because you are violated, you are scared, someone else takes control of your body and hurts you in the most intimate way. It is not horrible because you lose your “virtue.” It is not horrible because your father and your brother are dishonored. I reject the notion that my virtue is located in my vagina, just as I reject the notion that men’s brains are in their genitals. If we take honor out of the equation, rape will still be horrible, but it will be a personal, and not a societal, horror. We will be able to give women who have been assaulted what they truly need: not a load of rubbish about how they should feel guilty or ashamed, but empathy for going through a terrible trauma. The week after I was attacked, I heard the story of a woman who was raped in a nearby suburb. She came home, went into the kitchen, set herself on fire and died. The person who told me the story was full of admiration for her selflessness in preserving her husband’s honor. Thanks to my parents, I never did understand this. The law has to provide real penalties for rapists and protection for victims, but only families and communities can provide this empathy and support. How will a teenager participate in the prosecution of her rapist if her family isn’t behind her? How will a wife charge her assailant if her husband thinks the attack was more of an affront to him than a violation of her? At 17, I thought the scariest thing that could happen in my life was being hurt and humiliated in such a painful way. At 49, I know I was wrong: the scariest thing is imagining my 11-year-old child being hurt and humiliated. Not because of my family’s honor, but because she trusts the world and it is infinitely painful to think of her losing that trust. When I look back, it is not the 17-year-old me I want to comfort, but my parents. They had the job of picking up the pieces. This is where our work lies, with those of us who are raising the next generation. It lies in teaching our sons and daughters to become liberated, respectful adults who know that men who hurt women are making a choice, and will be punished. When I was 17, I could not have imagined thousands of people marching against rape in India, as we have seen these past few weeks. And yet there is still work to be done. We have spent generations constructing elaborate systems of patriarchy, caste and social and sexual inequality that allow abuse to flourish. But rape is not inevitable, like the weather. We need to shelve all the gibberish about honor and virtue and did-she-lead-him-on and could-he-help-himself. We need to put responsibility where it lies: on men who violate women, and on all of us who let them get away with it while we point accusing fingers at their victims." or like Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. |
| "A person should always choose a costume which is in direct contrast to her own personality.” The telephone rang. It was a call from his mother. He answered it and his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday." Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days. "Jack, did you hear me?" "Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said. "Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him. "I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said. "You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said. "He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important. Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said. As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away. The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time. The house was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture...Jack stopped suddenly... "What's wrong, Jack?" his Mom asked. "The box is gone," he said. "What box?" Mom asked. "There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said. It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it. "Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said. "I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom." It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read. Early the next day Jack went to the post office and retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention. "Mr. Harold Belser" it read. Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside. "Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filled his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! -- Harold Belser." "The thing he valued most was my time!" Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days.* "Why?" Janet, his assistant asked. "I need some time to spend with the people I love and say I care for," he said. "Oh, by the way, Janet, thanks for your time!" "Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away." Think about this. You may not realize it, but it's 100 percent true. 1. At least 15 people in this world love you in some way. 2. A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if they don't like you. 3. Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before they go to sleep. 4. You mean the world to someone. 5. If not for you, someone may not be living. 6. You are special and unique. 7. When you think you have no chance of getting what you want, you probably won't get it, but if you trust God to do what's best, and wait on His time, sooner or later, you will get it or something better. 8. When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good can still come from it. 9. When you think the world has turned its back on you, take a hard look: you most likely turned your back on the world and the people who love and care for you. 10. Someone that you don't even know exists loves you. 11. Always remember the compliments you received. Forget about the rude remarks. 12. Always tell someone how you feel about them; you will feel much better when they know and you'll both be happy. 13. If you have a great friend, take the time to let them know that they are great. |
| It was Halloween, 2021. I was on the back of a motorcycle, heading out towards McDonald’s for lunch with a young man. All he had going for him was that he owned a motorcycle. I was new to bike riding. The leaning thing was counter-intuitive to me like to lean the direction the bike was leaning. I learned the hard way not to lean the wrong direction. We came around a curve when the bike seemed to lean too much to the left. I found out later we had hit an oil slick. My instinct was to lean to the right. This was probably a good thing because otherwise I would have been pinned under the bike in oncoming traffic. I remember flying through the air and seeing the guardrail coming up awfully fast. "They’re coming to get you, Barbara." This was the exact thought and after that, everything went black and I could hear a high-pitched bell-like white noise. There was no light where I was, but I could see a very thin, very large crescent come into my field of view. It got smaller and smaller until I recognized what it was; the backside of the Earth. I began to 'float' in front of it until I was looking at the daylit side. It got smaller and smaller as some unseen force drew me away from it. It was much like what I suspect a tractor beam would feel like on Star Trek. I turned around to be drawn forward not backward, and that’s when I saw all the heavens. I saw the stars, the nebula', the nov', the dust clouds, the galaxies, the planets, and the sun. All of it was in 3-D! It was alive and moving, not static like in the pictures from the Hubble. It was so much to take in and all so incredibly beautiful. As I was drawn 'forward', to what end I couldn’t know. I realized a few things. This was real, as real as anything I had ever experienced. I’m a lucid dreamer so I know when I’m dreaming. This was no dream. The answer to the big question, 'Why are we here?' is 'Why not? It’s a good idea,' or better yet, 'Because.' That’s really it. I noticed I began to be drawn faster and faster. The stars began to move past me at a faster rate until they became streaks of light. Then they started to blink out until I found myself in total darkness again. I wasn’t scared because it was a comforting, maternal kind of place that made me feel safe. Then I noticed, far, far away, a little speck of light, like a single light from a farmhouse set way back from the freeway. Then it was closer and I could tell it was golden. It kept coming closer, then closer; this went on for about 8-10 jumps. I heard 'Boom, boom, boom.' and the next thing I knew I was right next to it. It was a golden cloud that was 'boiling'; it looked like pictures I’ve seen since of the surface of the sun. The next instant I was inside the cloud. I was floating down a large hallway, maybe 20x20. There were people there, but I didn’t recognize anyone, fading in and out of the cloud walls. I seemed to be floating over the heads of a LOT of people on a level right below me. They were all in white and seemed to be content. I think these were Mormons. As I floated along, I remember one man in particular who was standing off to the left in a bend in the hallway. I asked him where I was, and he kind of chuckled and said, 'Just keep going. Go on down to the front.' So I did. When I got to the end of the hallway, I met a guy that looked like a concierge in a hotel, working behind a desk. He looked up at me with a rather perturbed expression on his face, and he thought, 'What are you doing here?' I said, 'I don't know; I'm just here. This is where the people back there,' pointing over my shoulder to those hanging out, 'told me to come.' He shrugged, furrowed his brow, and thought, 'Well, wait a minute. Let me check something.' While he was checking, I looked behind him and realized we weren't in a tunnel at all; we were in a cave and he was at the entrance. Behind him was a beautiful landscape, a hillside with sparkling trees and flowers and a brook, the most beautiful, peaceful place I had ever seen. Then I saw people sitting in lotus positions on the hillside, facing to my left. A great light began pulsing on them. I was curious, so while this guy had his head down, looking at something, a computer perhaps, I snuck around the corner to see what was going on. I walked into what appeared to be a very large (30 feet say) presence that exuded love and innocence. It just seemed to be full of so much joy it couldn't contain it, and so it pulsed, and it felt really good. It flooded through me like water through a sieve. It was interesting, stunning, awe-inspiring, and all such words. I tried to get closer. I realized the presence was on an island, surrounded by a pool of liquid. When I stepped into the liquid, all that was 'Jill' disappeared. 'I' no longer existed and yet 'I' was still there. I was the essence of life, I guess. I don't know what else to call it. I was conscious of my surroundings. I had joined with all the other consciousness in the pool and had become one with it. I 'knew' all other life in the pool; I was 'one' with everything. I was home. Then I was back. The guy had pulled me back to the front of the desk. Breathlessly, I asked, 'What was THAT?' He said, 'Don't worry about that. Don't even think about it.' I said, 'But … but … I want to go back.' 'Nope.' 'But --' The next thing I knew I was back outside the gold tunnel. As I was being repelled from the cloud, I could hear the 'clerk' say, 'Don’t worry.' I hoped he meant, 'Don’t worry; you can come back.' I retraced all the footsteps I had gone through in space to get to it in the first place. 'Big whoop' I thought as I saw the heavens that had just moments before struck me dumb by their beauty. I was very downhearted after that. I tried to tell people about it, but everyone thought I was crazy or on drugs (which I wasn't at the time, by the way). I found it interesting that the people who gave me the hardest time about my re-telling were self-professed Christians. I never understood that. Anyway, I call the guy behind the desk Howard. That's because that's what Jesus said God's name was. 'Our father who art in heaven, Howard be thy name.' I know it's a bad joke but he doesn't seem to mind. To this day, he and I talk. He is always there for me, even when I turn my back. I don’t get it. He must have done something really goofy as it's rightly said "They’re coming to get you, Barbara.” |
| At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question: 'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?' The audience was stilled by the query. The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself. We all go a little mad sometimes and it comes in the way other people treat us. Then he told the following story: Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps. I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.' Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands. In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat. At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball. However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher. The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates. Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first! Run to first!' Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball, the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay' Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third! Shay, run to third!' As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!' Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team. 'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'. Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day! We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate. The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplace. We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things.' So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice: Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process? A wise man once said “We all go a little mad sometimes.” |
| A man checked into a hotel. There was a computer in his room, so he decided to send a mail to his wife. he accidentally typed the wrong email address, and without realizing he sent the mail to a widow who has just returned from her husband's funeral. The widow decided to check her mail, expecting condolence messages from relatives and friends. After reading the first message she fainted. The son rushed into the room, found his mother on the floor and saw the computer screen which read: 'To my loving wife, I know you are surprised to hear from me, they have computers here and we are allowed to send mails to loved ones. I 've just been checked in. How are you and the kids, the place is really nice but am lonely and I see dead people here so I desperately need you here. I have made necessary arrangement for your arrival tomorrow. Expecting you darling. I can't wait to see you. |
A beautiful message for all of us....Take a minute please A young lady sat in a bus. At the next stop a loud and grumpy old lady came and sat by her. She squeezed into the seat and bumped her with her numerous bags. The person sitting on the other side of the young lady got upset, asked her why she did not speak up and say something. The young lady responded with a smile: "It is not necessary to be rude or argue over something so insignificant, the journey together is so short. I get off at the next stop." This response deserves to be written in golden letters: *"It is not necessary to argue over something so insignificant, our journey together is so short"* If each one of us realized that our time here is so short; that to darken it with quarrels, futile arguments, not forgiving others, discontentment and a fault finding attitude would be a waste of time and energy. Did someone break your heart? *Be calm, the journey is so short.* Did someone betray, bully, cheat or humiliate you? *Be calm, forgive, the journey is so short.* Whatever troubles anyone brings us, let us remember that *our journey together is so short.* No one knows the duration of this journey. No one knows when their stop will come. *Our journey together is so short.* Let us cherish friends and family. Let us be respectful, kind and forgiving to each other. Let us be filled with gratitude and gladness. If I have ever hurt you, I ask for your forgiveness. If you have ever hurt me, you already have my forgiveness. After all, *Our Journey Together is so Short!* 😊😊Good morning friends |
I've started investing in stocks: beef, vegetable, chicken. One day I hope to be a bouillianaire. I accidentally rubbed ketchup in my eyes. Now I have Heinzsight. Scientifically, a raven has 17 primary wing feathers, the big ones at the end of the wing are called pinion feathers. A crow has 16. So, the difference between a raven and a crow is only a matter of a pinion. I was walking in the jungle and saw a lizard on his hind legs telling jokes. I turned to a local tribal leader and said, "That lizard is really funny!" The leader replied, "That's not just any old lizard ... he's a stand-up chameleon." I tried to come up with a carpentry pun that woodwork. I thought I nailed it but nobody saw it. Singing in the shower is fine until you get soap in your mouth. Then it's a soap opera. The Black-Eyed Peas can sing us a song but the chick peas can only hummus one. Then there was the time Fruit of the Loom took Hanes to court - it was a brief case. How much does a chimney cost? Nothing, it's on the house. My friend said she wouldn't eat a cow's tongue because it came out of a cow's mouth. I gave her an egg. Once upon a time there was a King who was only 12 inches tall. He was a terrible King but he made a great ruler. My friend Jack says he can communicate with vegetables. That's right ... Jack and the beans talk. I want to tell you about a girl who only eats plants. You probably have not heard of herbivore. I was struggling to understand how lightning works and then it struck me. Six cows were smoking joints and playing poker. That's right. The steaks were pretty high. |
| Who does not have a wife, That man is literally poor, No matter how rich he is with money? She is kinda nasty Wife is a kind of eternal wealth.. She gives her husband all kinds of strength, Makes her all kinds of happiness , And fulfills all her husband's wishes The one who has money in the form of wife, He is the true rich , When the husband, loses to all his relationships, So the wife is the last refuge for her. In the world, who has no one, So wife is the one who supports her in this journey of life, Can't imagine without a home wife.. Only being home, does not make anyone home, Man is called household only by living with wife. Home is where the load is, A house without weight is like a dry forest. The one who follows his wife properly, He is the right to be called husband, Similarly, the woman who gives happiness to her husband is called wife in true hands. The basis of the relationship between husband and wife is pure spiritual, After all day tiredness, on my hubby's home, When the smiling wife welcomes him, And smiling, asks her news, And then with breakfast, satisfies and satisfies her, So man, forgets all his day tiredness... ✍️ |
| Once Ashish was travelling by train in A/c class. He was traveling from Manmad to Bangalore! He was traveling alone! Some time later, a Beautiful lady came and sat in the opposite berth! Ashish was pleasantly Happy! The lady kept smiling at him! This made Ashish even more Happy! Then she went and sat next to him! Ashish was bubbling with Joy! She then leant towards him and whispered in his ear " Hand over all your valuables, cash, cards, mobile phone to me else I will shout and tell everybody that you are harassing and misbehaving with me" Ashish stared blankly at her! He took out a paper and a pen from his bag and wrote " I can not hear or speak. You write on this paper whatever you want to say" The lady wrote everything what she said earlier and gave it to him! Ashish took her note, kept it in his pocket! He got up and told her in clear tones..."Now shout & scream!!" MORAL OF THE STORY : *DOCUMENTATION IS VERY IMPORTANT* 😄😀😄 |
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