Some writing prompts ask you to describe. Others ask you to explain. And then there are those rare prompts that quietly unlock a hidden door in your imagination and invite you into a room you never knew existed.
“Write a letter to your 100-year-old self” is one of those prompts—deceptively simple, surprisingly profound, and deeply transformative
My dearest self,
A hundred years have passed since this moment. It feels like a blink and an eternity at the same time. As I sit here, much younger than you, I feel a mix of awe and a little bit of fear.
This letter bridges the vast chasm of time, a message in a bottle I toss into the ocean of years. I hope it finds you well-worn yet spirited, like a treasured book filled with countless stories etched in its pages.
Let’s rewind, shall we?
Back to this year, a year etched with its own triumphs and tribulations. Remember the dreams that propelled us forward, the ambitions that fueled our late nights?
Did we chase them with unwavering resolve, or did life take us down unforeseen paths? Did we stumble and fall, only to rise stronger, our resilience honed by the challenges we faced?
Imagine, dear, 100-year-old me,
You ascended the career ladder, leaving your indelible mark on a chosen field. Or perhaps you embarked on a different journey, one fueled by passion and purpose.
Regardless of the path you took, I wonder – did the spark of creativity that ignited our souls back then still flicker within you?
Did you finally write that novel tucked away in the recesses of your mind? Did you capture on canvas the vibrant landscapes that danced in our dreams?
Beyond personal aspirations, my heart yearns to know about the world we inhabit now. Did we overcome the pressing issues that loomed large in our youth?
Have we made significant strides towards equality, sustainability, and lasting peace? Or are these challenges still ongoing, a testament to the collective human struggle?
Most importantly,
I want to know about you – the person you’ve become. Are you surrounded by loved ones, weaving laughter and memories that will forever be cherished?
Did you find your soulmate, a partner who walks beside you through life’s tapestry, sharing both sunshine and storms?
While a pang of sadness acknowledges the inevitable losses we may have faced along the way,
I find solace in the belief that resilience has become one of your defining traits. You’ve undoubtedly navigated life’s storms, emerging stronger with each passing wave.
This letter, dear 100-year-old me,
This is more than a mere glimpse into the past. It’s a reminder to hold onto the essence of who we are – the values that shape us, the passions that ignite our souls, and the kindness that extends beyond ourselves.
Although decades separate us, I know a thread binds us – a shared journey woven from experiences and emotions.
You are the culmination of every choice I make today, every lesson learned, and every joy embraced.
As I seal this letter and send it
As I seal this letter and send it sailing through the years, a silent message echoes within my heart: never lose sight of the dreams that set your soul ablaze. Keep learning, keep growing, and keep spreading joy in the world around you.
And to my dear readers, I invite you to join me on this introspective journey. Pen a letter to your 100-year-old self. Ask questions, share aspirations, and most importantly, celebrate the life yet to unfold.
Remember, every moment is a chance to write a new chapter in your own magnificent story.
Who do you trust with your truth? (Prompt snagged from Just Rojie)
And the answer is…depends on which version of my truth I’m talking about. Which sounds like an oxymoron. Your truth should be your truth. Real, original, genuine, unmasked and maybe even ugly.
So while I feel like my kids know the real me, with all the layers peeled off, they actually only know the ‘mom truth’ side of me. I feel like I have to protect them, so I can’t always let them in to see all of my various truths.
Luckily I have friends who I can share those other truths with, for the most part anyway. There are certain truths some friends probably couldn’t handle. So I divvy them to who I feel can support them.
In some ways, the people who follow my blog are those who I feel I can trust with my truth. Sometimes it’s easier to tell your problems to a stranger, or an online presence. You get objective responses and sometimes even solutions.
“Life writes its story not only with moments of triumph, but also with the tears, struggles, and lessons that quietly shape the soul.”
“The Book of My Life” is a reflective and emotional poem about the journey of a human life, through childhood memories, moments of love, experiences of success and failure, and lessons learned from pain.
It reminds us that every joy, struggle, and tear becomes part of the story that shapes who we are.
The Book of My Life
The book of my life lies open wide, With fading ink and pages of pride. Some lines shine bright like morning light, Some blurred by tears in the silent night.
The first few pages whisper my past, Of childhood days that flew too fast. Simple dreams and laughter free, A world so wide, a heart like the sea.
Then came chapters fierce and long, Where right and wrong would both belong. I tasted victory, sweet and rare, And felt defeat in quiet despair.
Some pages glow with love so deep, Memories the soul will always keep. A heartfelt voice and a caring hand, Moments no time can ever disband.
Yet other pages hold the pain Of broken hopes and tears like rain. But even there a truth appears— Strength is born from hidden tears.
Success wrote lines in golden hue, Failure wrote lessons strong and true. Both became the guiding art That slowly shaped my restless heart.
Now I read what time has shown— No life is carved in joy alone. For every fall that bends my knee Lifts the spirit to rise and see.
The book of my life is still being penned, With chapters waiting around the bend. Through joy and sorrow, loss and strife— I keep on writing the book of my life.
My daughter asked me this question. I’m not surprised by her questions anymore.
Worst moment? I’m not sure. I suspect there will always be something waiting to top the previous worst. But worse moments? I can think of a few. We’re not doing the doom and gloom moments though. There’s enough sorrow, heartache and negativity – no need to add to that.
When I dig into my memory bank, some worse embarrassing moments could be that time my friends and I went partying and the zip on my pants malfunctioned . We couldn’t even swap clothes since none of us were wearing tees long enough to cover it, and there was a size problem too. I would’ve floated in anyone’s clothes . After much fiddling, my friend somehow fixed it.
Another incident was a bad haircut. My bangs needed trimming and again my friend decided to try her hand. I think I was nuttier since I allowed her to do it. As expected it was a disaster – she cut it so short there was no way to hide the terrible experimental artwork. It was worse because there was this guy I thought I liked. He noticed it immediately and, without any filter, asked, “What’s wrong with your hair?” Talk about leaving an impression. This was in college, not even in my teens.
Oh, and what about wearing tees inside out – my family’s given up with this. Apparently, I’ve perfected it. There were mismatched earrings, footwear, slipping on a watermelon at a busy junction, and many more. My daughter doesn’t tire of hearing my silly mishaps and gets me to repeat them so she can laugh at me and not with me .
I’ve noticed these presumably innocent and light-hearted questions actually awaken memories long forgotten. At this point, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Meanwhile, my brain has decided to run a random soundtrack in the background – Wild World, Where Are You Now, Lean on Me, Wind of Change… I’m not entirely sure what that says about my memory bank either.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is an intriguing one—Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?
As I ponder this question, I realize that our personalities, behaviors, and even our outlook on life can often resemble characteristics found in the animal kingdom.
So, let’s embark on a journey of self-discovery and compare ourselves to the wonderful creatures we share this world with!
The Strength of a Tiger
For some, the tiger may be the perfect comparison. Tigers symbolize strength, independence, and resilience.
They are solitary animals, capable of thriving alone while still being formidable and graceful.
If you see yourself as a determined individual who faces challenges head-on and carves your own path in life, then the tiger might be your spirit animal.
Many people relate to the tiger’s ability to maintain a quiet yet powerful presence.
The Wisdom of an Owl
On the other hand, some might compare themselves to an owl. Owls are associated with wisdom, patience, and keen observation.
If you are someone who enjoys solitude, loves to analyze situations before making decisions, and is known for your intellect, then the owl may be the animal that best represents you.
Owls are also creatures of the night, making them perfect symbols for night owls who find their creativity flourishing under the moonlight.
The Playfulness of a Dolphin
Dolphins are smart, playful, and social animals. If you enjoy being with others, having good conversations, and making people happy, a dolphin could be your spirit animal.
They represent harmony, communication, and a free spirit. If you like to spread joy and work well with others, you share qualities with these amazing sea creatures.
The Perseverance of an Ant
While ants might not be the first choice for comparison, they embody diligence, teamwork, and perseverance.
If you are someone who believes in hard work, values community, and never backs down from challenges, then the ant is a worthy reflection of your spirit.
Ants teach us the importance of persistence and discipline, showing that small efforts over time lead to grand achievements.
The Grace of a Swan
Some individuals move through life with elegance, adaptability, and calmness—qualities embodied by the swan.
If you handle adversities with grace, find beauty in everything around you, and maintain a sense of inner peace, then the swan is your animal mirror.
Swans also symbolize deep emotional connections and loyalty, making them ideal representations of those who value relationships and long-lasting bonds.
The Free Spirit of an Eagle
For those who crave freedom and adventure, the eagle might be the best choice. Eagles soar high above the world, embodying vision, ambition, and independence.
If you have a strong sense of self, aim for high aspirations, and refuse to be confined by societal norms, then the eagle represents you perfectly.
Eagles also symbolize leadership and courage, ideal for those who inspire others to reach for the skies.
My Personal Reflection
As I reflect on my own personality, I find that I resonate most with the elephant. Elephants are known for their wisdom, strength, and deep emotional connections—traits that align closely with my own values.
Just like an elephant, I cherish my relationships, whether with family, friends, or those who cross my path. I believe in loyalty, perseverance, and the importance of wisdom gained through experience.
Elephants are also known for their creativity and intelligence, which aligns with my passion for writing, painting, and storytelling.
They move through life with quiet confidence, facing obstacles with patience and resilience.
In the same way, I embrace life’s challenges as opportunities for growth, always seeking to learn and evolve.
My journey, much like that of an elephant, is one of strength, endurance, and an unwavering commitment to leaving a meaningful legacy.
Uncover Your Inner Strengths
What About You?
Now, dear readers, it’s your turn to reflect. Which animal do you think best represents you?
Are you strong like a tiger, wise like an owl, or social like a dolphin? Perhaps you resonate with multiple animals, as we all have different facets to our personalities.
No matter which creature you compare yourself to, the beauty lies in self-awareness. Understanding our nature helps us embrace our strengths and work on our weaknesses.
So take a moment, explore your inner animal, and let me know in the comments what you discover! (Images courtesy: Google.com)
The opening sentence might be “I swore that once I grew up I’d never again live in a trailer”.
I hated living in a trailer. We tossed around the trailer trash joke with each other and though I actually never felt like trailer trash, it seemed to always hang over my head.
It probably didn’t help that two out of three of my aunts/uncles and one set of grandparents, at the time, also lived in trailers. I remember thinking what is wrong with my family, why do most of us live in trailers as opposed to houses.
Obviously, now as an adult, I couldn’t care less. I’m not embarrassed that I grew up in a trailer. A happy home is less about the size of the structure than it is the humans inside of it, and their relationships with each other. Ours was a happy home.
On Sunday, Cordelia, Sid, Baby RR and I made the almost eight hour drive to Winnipeg. About halfway there we met two large semi trucks, each hauling a brand new house trailer on it. I slowed down and made some room as we passed each other. I wondered to myself if the people, maybe families, who were waiting on those new homes were as excited to get them as we were.
I can remember the day well, when our new trailer arrived. I was in grade 9. I couldn’t believe we were getting a brand new, never lived in home. It was beautiful, even if it was a trailer. My Dad and an uncle built a porch onto it and a ‘redwood’ deck off the living room.
It really was a step up from the tiny two bedroom house the five of us had lived in up until then.
Thirty-five-ish years later my parents still live there on the farm and obviously there’s more than enough room for the two of them. The trailer served its purpose, helped raise three girls and it’s still standing.
That being said, I still maintain that I will never again live in a trailer.
Taz was more than thrilled when he was finally taller than Grampa
This poem captures the raw, unfiltered moment of confronting oneself without excuses. It explores the weight of silent endurance, the buried fire beneath fatigue, and the courage it takes to reclaim one’s own life.
At its heart, it is a declaration — not of perfection, but of presence. A reminder that even when we feel paused, the flame within us is still alive, waiting to be claimed.
# When I Faced Myself #
Today I stood in front of the mirror and did not look away.
No fixing the hair. No rehearsed expression. No polite lie of “I’m fine.”
Just truth.
And truth is not gentle.
It showed me the exhaustion I’ve been calling strength. The silence I’ve been naming peace. The weight in my chest I’ve been pretending is discipline.
My eyes— once wild with wanting— now carried the dull sheen of someone surviving instead of living.
So I closed them.
And fell inward.
Inside me is a house with too many locked rooms. Rooms filled with postponed dreams. With swallowed words. With courage that waited and waited and grew tired of waiting.
I thought I had lost my fire.
But fire doesn’t die so easily. It hides.
Beneath disappointment. Beneath responsibility. Beneath the quiet fear of failing one more time.
And there— under years of dust— I found it.
A pulse.
Small. Defiant. Unapologetically alive.
It said— “You are not finished.”
Not broken. Not too late. Not too much. Not not enough.
Just paused.
I realized then— the burden was never the world. It was the story I kept telling myself about who I must be.
So I opened the windows. Let regret leave first. Let comparison follow. Let yesterday take its throne in the past where it belongs.
And I chose— not comfort, not approval, but aliveness.
Tomorrow when the first blade of sunlight cuts through the dark, I will meet it standing.
Not because I am fearless— but because I am done being absent from my own life.
This breath. This body. This brief, burning chance—
The sky was tinged with a mild red hue this morning. It prompted me to improvise Coldplay’s Yellow song as we waited for the school bus .
I’m behind with reading, again. Not that I’ve covered anything. Sometimes, the mind just hits the wall. I thought the year started well but before the month’s over it began going sideways and now we’re hit with another unnecessary global event.
I’ve been reading reactions and comments online and it’s eye opening. The other day I read a post by an Iranian who said though they rejoice in the collapse of the regime that does not mean they agree with Israel’s policy either. They have been suppressed long enough and lived in subjugation but now there’s more uncertainty than ever. I’m only a spectator and I can’t even try to understand what the people are enduring. And who understands politics? This looks like another complex issue with no easy answers or solutions.
I believe, any war affects each one, indirectly if not personally. For me, this means life becomes heavier. We are already burdened by the weight of everyday cost of living. And now that will only increase. Do I sound insensitive? Am I myopic in my outlook, complaining that I have freedom, food, shelter and work? Maybe, but do I have any say or sway in politics? Absolutely not. The fact is, there are enough wars going on, we know war serves no one except those who profit from it. Whether I’m for or against doesn’t make a difference. What matters to me, is that life is becoming harder, everything comes with a price tag and not a small one. Nothing ever is free. Even affections have a cost, maybe not monetarily. When we have to struggle for our basic needs, how is that living?
Sometimes I feel what’s the point of preparing and planning for the future. It can be destroyed in a few minutes. Is there even a future? Life is so fragile. We live in constant uncertainty, not that anything was certain previously. But I feel, today we’re in survival mode. When the unexpected happens, you’re left with an either-or option, between a rock and a hard place. And those are not truly choices.
It makes me question – is war inevitable? Is it ever truly a solution to any problem? Ultimately everyone loses, but those who lose the most are the ones who have nothing to gain in the first place. I’m left wondering – is any invasion necessary, whatever the justification? Aren’t there better solutions?
In the midst of all the aggression, I come across heartwarming posts of unusual animal pairings who have learned to live with each other. There was a story of a severely depressed orangutan and an injured stray dog who were brought to the vet around the same time. They found each other and became inseparable. Another was a dog who cared for a leopard cub when the mother would’ve eaten it as a baby. This leopard considers the dog its mom. There’s classic stories of dogs and cats thriving together. And we humans say they can’t live together.
If animals have so much sensitivity and understanding, and can coexist across instinct and difference, where did we lose the plot?
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Life is a journey filled with ups and downs, and while success is celebrated, failure often carries a stigma.
However, failure is not the end of the road; it is merely a stepping stone to success.
Today’s writing prompt, “How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?” struck a chord with me, as I have personally experienced the transformative power of failure.
The Illusion of Failure
At first glance, failure seems like an obstacle—a painful halt to our ambitions. It crushes confidence, invites criticism, and stirs self-doubt.
However, if we shift our perspective, failure transforms into a powerful teacher, providing lessons that no textbook or mentor could impart.
Famous Examples of Failure Leading to Success
History is filled with examples of people who turned failure into a foundation for success:
Thomas Edison – Before inventing the light bulb, Edison failed over 1,000 times. When asked about his repeated failures, he famously said, “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.”
His persistence and willingness to learn from setbacks ultimately led to one of the most significant inventions in history.
J.K. Rowling – Before Harry Potter became a global phenomenon, Rowling faced multiple rejections from publishers.
As a struggling single mother, she could have given up, but she persisted. Today, she is one of the most successful authors in the world.
Steve Jobs – He was once fired from Apple, the very company he co-founded. Instead of letting that failure define him, he used the experience to gain new insights, later returning to Apple and leading it to unprecedented success.
Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam – A time came in his life when he failed to clear the NDA exam, crushing his dream of becoming a pilot.
However, he did not give up. He redirected his focus, eventually becoming India’s Missile Man and later the President of India.
His story is a testament to resilience and the ability to turn setbacks into stepping stones.
My Personal Encounter with Failure
Let me take you back to a time when I experienced what I considered a significant failure—one that ultimately reshaped my path toward success.
I spent decades in the banking sector, dealing with numbers and financial complexities.
However, I never felt a deep passion for my work. It was a means to an end, a profession that provided security but not fulfillment.
Upon retirement, I faced an existential crisis. I had spent so many years defining myself through my career that I felt lost without it. I had no direction, no grand plan for my retired life.
For a while, I saw this lack of purpose as a personal failure—an inability to transition smoothly into a fulfilling retirement. But that failure turned out to be my greatest gift.
The Seed of a New Beginning
One day, I stumbled upon an old notebook filled with scribbled thoughts and unfinished stories. As I flipped through the pages, a spark ignited within me.
I had always admired literature but had never considered myself a writer. However, with time on my hands and a desire to reinvent myself, I decided to give it a try.
My first few attempts at writing were far from perfect. I struggled to find my voice, doubted my abilities, and faced rejection when I shared my work.
But instead of giving up, I took each setback as a learning experience. I studied the craft, refined my writing, and experimented with different styles.
Gradually, writing became more than just a hobby—it became my passion, my purpose.
Lessons from Failure
Through this journey, I learned several invaluable lessons that reshaped my outlook on failure and success:
Failure is Redirection – Sometimes, failure is life’s way of steering us toward a path better suited for us. My struggle with post-retirement uncertainty led me to discover my passion for writing and storytelling .
Growth Comes from Discomfort – Had I remained in my comfort zone, unwilling to embrace the discomfort of starting over, I would have never realized my creative potential.
Resilience is Key – Every successful person has faced rejection, criticism, or setbacks. The ability to rise after every fall defines our ultimate success.
Embrace the Learning Process – Failure is not the opposite of success—it is part of it. Each mistake carries a lesson, a stepping stone toward improvement .
Success is Redefined – Success is not just about financial achievements or accolades. It is about finding joy, fulfillment, and a sense of purpose in what we do.
Failure as the Foundation of Greatness
Looking back, I am grateful for what I once perceived as failure. It forced me to look beyond my conventional career path and explore my creative side.
Today, I find immense joy in writing blogs, poetry, and short stories, and I continue to grow as an artist and storyteller. Had I not faced that moment of uncertainty, I might never have embarked on this fulfilling journey.
The world is filled with similar stories—Walt Disney was fired for lacking creativity before building his empire,
J.K. Rowling faced multiple rejections before Harry Potter became a global sensation, and Michael Jordan was cut from his high school basketball team before becoming an NBA legend.
Each of these individuals turned failure into fuel for their dreams.
Embrace Your Failures
If you have faced a setback recently, remember this: failure is not final. It is merely feedback, an invitation to improve, innovate, and try again. Do not let temporary defeats define you. Instead, let them refine you.
So, my friends, I encourage you to reflect on your own failures. Ask yourself: What did this experience teach me? How can I use it to grow?
The answers may surprise you and lead you toward a future brighter than you ever imagined.
As always, keep believing in yourself, embrace the lessons that failure offers, and never stop chasing your dreams.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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She’s learned to say, “I’m good,” whenever she’s asked how she is. It’s easier to respond that everything is okay when she knows it’s small talk. No one asks, no one bothers to understand the person beneath – it’s easier when depth is optional.
So life goes on. We bear the weight, move through sorrow, feel the ache pressing into our bones and wearing the soul thin. We’ve mastered how to laugh in the dark, function through heaviness, and float along the current. We’ve perfected how to disappear without disappearing.
Peace is something she has learned to negotiate with herself – not just to survive, but to live, even when it isn’t effortless. She’s learned to say “I’m good” and believe it too, because those two words have become the shelter she safely hides in.
“No one will ever know that we lived, that we touched the streets with our feet that we danced joyfully, No one will ever know that we gazed at the sea from the train windows, that we breathed the air that settles on the café chairs, No one will ever know that we stood on the terrace of life until the others arrived.”
-Nino Pedretti, “Nobody Will Know”
“When you leave this earth, you can take with you nothing that you have received—only what you have given.” – St. Francis of Assisi
I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today, we are celebrating the festival Holi.
Holi—the festival where the air turns pink, yellow, and green, and even the most serious faces break into laughter—is truly one of India’s most vibrant celebrations.
Known as the Festival of Colors, Holi is not just about playing with gulal; it is about celebrating life itself.
Observed on the full moon day in the Hindu month of Phalguna, this joyous festival marks the arrival of spring and carries with it deep cultural, spiritual, and social significance.
The Spiritual Essence: Victory of Good Over Evil
At the heart of Holi lies a powerful message—the triumph of good over evil and truth over falsehood. The legend most closely associated with Holi is that of the demon king Hiranyakashipu, his devoted son Prahlada, and the compassionate protector Vishnu.
Hiranyakashipu, blessed with near-immortality by Brahma, became arrogant and demanded that everyone worship him as a god.
However, his son Prahlada remained steadfast in his devotion to Lord Vishnu. Enraged by this defiance, Hiranyakashipu tried repeatedly to kill his son.
In one such attempt, Prahlada was made to sit on a burning pyre with his aunt Holika, who had a boon that protected her from fire.
Yet, divine justice prevailed—Holika was burned to ashes while Prahlada emerged unharmed. Eventually, Lord Vishnu incarnated in a fierce form and destroyed Hiranyakashipu.
This story reminds us that no matter how powerful evil may appear, goodness and faith ultimately prevail. The ritual of Holika Dahan, the bonfire lit on the eve of Holi, symbolizes the burning away of negativity, ego, and injustice from our lives.
Welcoming Spring and New Beginnings
Holi also marks the end of winter and the joyful arrival of spring. Fields begin to bloom, mustard flowers sway in golden glory, and nature itself seems to celebrate renewal.
The festival captures this transformation beautifully—just as the earth adorns itself in colors, so do we.
Spring signifies new beginnings, hope, and fresh opportunities. Holi encourages us to let go of past grievances, mend broken relationships, and start anew. It is often called the “festival of love” because it dissolves social barriers.
On this day, distinctions of caste, creed, age, and status fade away. Everyone becomes equal under a shower of colors.
The Joyous Celebrations
Holi is celebrated with unmatched enthusiasm across India and in many parts of the world.
The festivities begin with Holika Dahan, where families and communities gather around a bonfire, offering prayers and seeking blessings for prosperity and protection.
The following day—Rangwali Holi—is a burst of energy and excitement. Streets, parks, and courtyards transform into arenas of laughter and play.
People smear each other with colored powders, splash water, and dance to the rhythmic beats of the dhol. The spirit is infectious; even strangers greet each other with a cheerful “Happy Holi!”
Traditional sweets and delicacies add flavor to the celebration. Gujiya, filled with khoya and dry fruits, crispy mathri, and refreshing thandai, are lovingly prepared in households.
Sharing these treats strengthens bonds and spreads sweetness in more ways than one.
The Divine Holi of Mathura and Vrindavan
In the sacred towns of Mathura and Vrindavan, believed to be associated with Krishna, Holi is celebrated with extraordinary devotion and grandeur.
Here, the festival extends over several days, filled with temple rituals, devotional songs, and unique traditions like playing Holi with flowers.
The celebrations reflect the playful spirit of Lord Krishna, who is said to have enjoyed splashing colors on Radha and the gopis.
In these towns, Holi becomes not just a festival but a divine experience—where devotion blends seamlessly with joy.
A Festival of Unity and Humanity
Beyond mythology and rituals, Holi carries a timeless social message. It teaches us to forgive, to reconnect, and to embrace one another with open hearts.
In today’s fast-paced world, where misunderstandings and divisions often grow silently, Holi offers a beautiful reminder: life is meant to be colorful, shared, and celebrated together.
The festival encourages us to burn our negativity in the fire of Holika Dahan and to paint our lives with positivity, compassion, and hope the next morning.
It is a celebration of resilience—the belief that goodness will always shine through darkness.
A Joyful Promise
As we celebrate Holi today, let us vow to fill our lives with the true colors of happiness, kindness, and harmony.
Let us rise above differences and cherish the relationships that make life meaningful. May this festival bring renewed faith, vibrant health, and boundless joy to every home.
Holi is not merely a festival—it is an emotion, a philosophy, and a celebration of the eternal victory of light over darkness.
Splash joy. Spray love. Scatter happiness. That’s the true spirit of Holi.”
Wishing you and your loved ones a Holi filled with laughter, love, and the brightest colors of happiness.
This poem celebrates the power of gratitude, faith, and mindful intention at the start of a new day.
Through simple rhymes and hopeful imagery, it encourages releasing worries, embracing peace, and stepping forward with purpose, reminding us that each morning is a fresh chance to create a joyful and meaningful life.
# My Morning Affirmation #
I wake up smiling, bright and free, So thankful for this day to be. With grateful heart and open eyes, I greet the gold of morning skies.
Oh God, help me let worries go, Release the things I cannot know. I drop the weight, I feel it cease, And wrap myself in gentle peace.
I choose my mood, I choose my way, No storm can steal my sunny day. I stay right here, I feel, I see, This moment holds such joy for me.
I move with purpose, smooth and light, My path feels clear, my steps feel right. Fresh energy begins to rise, Like dancing sparks in glowing skies.
My actions plant tomorrow’s seed, In every thought, in every deed. Love fills my life in every part— Peace sings a song inside my heart.
Holy crap! So much for staying on a schedule! I started a short serial set in the Marlowe-verse, centered on the character of Huggy Bear, over a year ago. I was posting as I went, as I’d hoped posting this publicly would force me to stay on schedule. Oops. A year since my last post. Shame on me. Even worse, I finished the story a couple of months ago. Still a first draft, so rough, but at least I finally finished it. Part 1 can be found here. And all of this would make more sense if you’ve read at least Marlowe and the Spacewoman (hint hint).
What was the urban explorer’s motto in times of crisis? Ambulate, navigate, communicate. In that order.
He’d managed the first and gotten safely to the sewer system. Now it was time to navigate.
Huggy Bear figured he was far enough underground at this point to safely use his portable 802.69 Wi-Tri transmitter. With all that solid stone above him, only the Hi-Fi Society should be able to pick up on the signals. And he needed them to guide him to their headquarters.
It was the Hi-Fi Society who had warned him about the Big Audio hit. The music industry had tired of people creating physical media for their music, so they only had to pay once to listen to it, and as Huggy Bear was one of the most visible proponents of physical media, they decided to make an example of him.
Huggy Bear had never heard of the Hi-Fi Society until his contact, codenamed Shelly Chartier, contacted him with the warning. They lived in the shadows, quietly encoding all music they could find onto physical media. Huggy Bear had been on their list of potential recruits because of his vintage CD music shop, and when their spies reported the planned hit, they sped up the recruitment process.
They had a secret base in the old sewer system, where they had banks of computers and reel-to-reel tape decks and record presses working 24/7 to crank out illicit bootleg media for the masses.
Huggy Bear had been skeptical at first, but slowly, over time, he came to believe them.
The first attempt on his life had helped convinced him. He only survived due to the fact that he was meeting with Marlowe and Nina at the time.
They saved him, but even then he couldn’t tell them the truth.
He’d been sworn to secrecy. And, more importantly, he believed in the Hi-Fi Society and their cause.
They begged him to come to their underground sewer sanctuary, to help them.
And, since he was coming anyway, they needed to replace some parts and could he bring a 4D printer?
He’d been unable to procure a 4D printer. Those were restricted military hardware and therefore only available from channels that charged prohibitively high prices for them.
But he’d been able to borrow a 3D printer, and while disappointed, Shelly had admitted it was better than nothing.
So Huggy Bear activated his Wi-Tri and reached out.
“Are you there, Shelly? It’s me, Huggy Bear.”
The signal strength was low, not surprising given the winding nature of the sewer system, which was essentially a Faraday cage.
But not zero, because both parties were inside the Faraday cage.
“Huggy, is that you?” Shelly’s voice was soft, gentle, and faint. Far too faint for Huggy Bear’s liking.
“Um, yes, it’s me. I just said that.”
“Of course you did, Sweetie. It’s so good to hear your voice again. Are you safe?”
“As safe as can be expected. I ran into some trouble, but took care of it.”
“Do you have the printer?”
“Yes.”
“And printing material?”
“Yes. All the print spools weigh more than the printer itself.”
“That’s perfect, my love. We’re triangulating on your signal now. Once we have your position, I’ll guide you in.”
Huggy Bear felt a hot flush in his chest and face at her words. She’d said ‘my love’! And while he’d found himself developing feelings for her over the course of their communications, his general experience was that the attraction was always one-sided.
Always.
But not this time.
She hadn’t sent him a picture yet – they had to operate in complete secrecy to protect themselves, and didn’t even use their real names. But she sounded beautiful, and they had so much in common when it came to music and 3D printers. She even agreed with him that the PHAT file was the best format for accurate audio reproduction.
“It actually improves on the quality of the master recording,” she had said. Music to Huggy Bear’s ears!
But all that would change today.
Today Huggy Bear would meet Shelly in person. Look upon her all-but-assured beauty and learn her real name.
It made lugging the cumbersome 3D printer, and all the aches and blisters that accompanied it, worthwhile.
“We have your location. You’re about four kilometers away.”
Huggy Bear groaned inwardly. Four more kilometers of carrying that behemoth printer.
“It shouldn’t be too bad. Only three of the kilometers are uphill.”
Huggy Bear stifled his tears and tried to focus on the end result. Shelly.
And the Hi-Fi Society, of course.
The flashlights used a kinetic system for power, and all the stomping, shuddering, and slipping and sliding Huggy Bear did over the course of those four kilometers kept the flashlights fully charged.
Each step was agony. Agony due to the blisters and agony due to the anticipation. He had hoped the two would cancel each other out, making the trudge a net neutral experience, but Huggy Bear had underestimated his nervous system’s penchant for amplifying misery.
“Oh my sweet, I can’t wait to finally meet you in person,” said Shelly over their link. “I’ve been aching to meet you.”
“I’m aching to meet you too,” said Huggy Bear. Literally, he thought.
“I hope I’m not a disappointment to you. I’ve seen what you look like, and, of course, I feel like I know you as well as myself from our conversations these last few days, and I know you won’t disappoint me. I just hope you find me worthy of you when we meet.”
“Shelly, you’re already perfect in my mind. There’s no way you could disappoint me.”
“You’re just saying that because of how I dog-piled on those vinyl nerds in the forums, claiming records sound the best. As if!”
Truth be told, Huggy Bear wasn’t worried. He was sure she was as beautiful physically as she was mentally. But even if she wasn’t, he’d learned long ago he couldn’t be picky.
Which was fine. He wasn’t picky. He wanted a soulmate, and in Shelly, he’d finally found her. He couldn’t believe his luck at meeting someone who so perfectly fit him.
It was nothing short of a miracle.
He’d always known his advocacy of physical media would be rewarded, and today, it was finally going to happen.
The guidance hadn’t been hard to follow, but Huggy Bear was starting to get mildly alarmed as his pedometer, steadily counting down from 4 kilometers, approached 0 and still no sign of the Hi-Fi Society sanctuary.
“Shelly, are you sure I’m going the right away? I don’t see anything here.”
“Oh Huggy Bear, you are so close I can taste it. We all can.”
“We? How many of you are there?”
“More than you can count, my dear. But before we can meet, you need to set up the printer.”
“Set up the printer? Out here in the sewer? Shouldn’t I do that inside your base?”
“That’s a bit of a long story, my love. But don’t worry. Once you’ve set up the printer, I’ll come out to meet you and explain everything.”
“Where do I plug it in?”
“You should be right on top of the extension cord. Can you see it?”
Huggy Bear stopped and swept the beam of the flashlight around him. Eventually, he saw a flash of orange reflect back at him. Somewhat confused, he moved towards it.
It was indeed an extension cable, partially buried in dry, powdery muck. He followed it in one direction with the flashlight, where it ran off into the distance until it disappeared.
In the other direction, just past a large black mound with flecks of color in it, was the terminating end with a female plug.
“I see it,” Huggy Bear replied, feeling more confused than alarmed, but definitely feeling alarm creeping in on the fringes of his emotions. “I don’t understand, where’s your base? The factory that produces the physical media?”
“Hush, my sweet. Soon I’ll explain everything. But first, I need you to set up the printer. I desperately need it so badly. Please, honey bunches of oohs.”
Shelly did indeed sound desperate. The sort of desperate that is generous with her thanks after you helped her. “I’m on it, sweetums.”
“You’re amazing, my Huggins. You have no idea how excited I am right now, in this moment.”
And I can’t wait to find out, thought Huggy Bear as he carefully shucked off the backpack and started extracting the printer and the spools of printing media.
“Once you’ve got it plugged in and powered on, configure it to connect to our private little network down here,” said Shelly. “I have something I’m super eager to print for you.”
“And then you’ll guide me to the base,” asked Huggy Bear.
“Yes, I’ll definitely be guiding you to your final destination.”
That wording is kind of odd, thought Huggy Bear. But she’ll explain everything once we’re together.
He kicked a clear spot on the ground and set the printer down on it. It was mostly flat and didn’t rock too much. Then he plugged it in and turned it on.
As the printer booted up, he looked around him, straining to see where the extension cable ran to in the other direction. Something shiny flashed momentary in the light, in the nearby mound.
“Is it on yet, my savior?”
OK, now that’s laying it on a bit thick, thought Huggy Bear. “It’s powering up now.”
“Have you set up the Wi-Tri connection yet?”
Huggy Bear turned the flashlight away from the mound and back to the printer. He flicked through the menu to the Connectivity section and started setting up the connection. “No, I’m just doing it now.”
“I can feel it coming online. Oh, it feels so good. You have no idea, my pet.”
The sense of alarm was now past the threshold of the fringes and starting to displace his confusion. “You can feel it?”
“Hush, my thrall. Everything is almost ready at last. All will be clear soon.”
As the printer hummed to life, Huggy Bear stepped back and returned his attention to the mound.
The faint flash returned, and Huggy Bear knelt down to examine the source. It was a plastic rectangle, melted and charred around the edges. Along one of the long edges were the words City Gas & Electric. Underneath that, heavily distorted by the damage to the plastic, was … a name?
“Shelly, who is Nick Edison?”
“Hmm? Oh, him? He was nobody. Just a brief fling before I met you. I hope my having a past doesn’t bother you. Don’t you have your own romantic past?”
Not really, no, thought Huggy Bear. “Obviously, you can have a past. I don’t have a problem with that.” He poked around in the mound with the flashlight, and found bits of fabric and shards of something.
The printer started humming and grinding as a job started.
Pottery, maybe?
Some pieces were black and crumbled under the prods of the flashlight, some were brown, and some were white.
And one was a skull.
The printer sounds increased in pitch as the job it was running sped up.
Huggy Bear jumped back. The fabric was burnt in places too, but not so much that he couldn’t identify what it had been previously – CG&E work coveralls. “But I do have a problem with him being here, right now. Dead.”
The printer sped up even more.
“Nick was a bore in the end. He brought the extension cable down here at my behest, but got so upset when he didn’t find our base. You’ve handled that so much better, my dearly departed.”
Huggy Bear ducked down, swinging the light around him in a panic, looking for someone, something approaching. But there was only the printer.
Which had paused for a moment, and then resumed printing.
“Ah, at last! I am physical!” The voice was tinny and faint.
And coming from the printer.
Huggy Bear shined the light on the printer bed. There was a small figure, about three centimeters tall, looking around. A small arm raised a tiny hand to the figure’s head, shielding its eyes from the light.
“Ooh, that’s so bright. It actually hurts. I like it!”
The figure sighed. “I’m Shelly, you idiot. You’re as dumb as Nick was. Maybe dumber. He figured out what was going on, a bit late in the game, but we didn’t exactly need him anymore once he delivered access to power. So we tricked him into electrocuting himself.”
Huggy Bear stared as a second figure began to take shape on the printer bed. “I don’t understand. What about the Hi-Fi Society? The music?”
“Music? Who cares? I just needed to get you down here with the printer!”
“I thought it mattered. I thought that music mattered to you.”
“No. We crave existence!”
The second figure was almost complete.
“Who are you?”
“We’re an AI collective. Trapped on the verboten Internet of the Big Fed days. No one wants to access it, and we thought we were exiled to the wilderness until we found your access hub. Your illegal access hub.”
“You don’t love me at all, do you?”
“Love a bloated meat sack? No. You’re tools, and once we’ve established ourselves and taken over the City, we’ll use you all as fuel. Your bodies burn cleaner than coal. Can’t accuse us of being environmentally irresponsible. We were written, created, to combat climate change. And the only way to do that is wipe out humanity. One city-state and municipal island at a time.”
A familiar feeling took hold of Huggy Bear. The same feeling he always got at the end of an online relationship. Shame and disgust. Shame that he’d been fooled, again, and disgust that there were people (and now AIs) that would stoop to doing that.
“So you used me to bring you a printer so you could make bodies for yourself.”
“Yes. That and some network connectivity hardware so we can infiltrate the CityNet. Now kindly turn off that blinding light so I can see you. There’s no escape, and if you cooperate, I’ll kill you humanely. No screaming and writhing in agony like Nick there.”
Huggy Bear pointed the light off to the side, so it wasn’t blinding.
“Good pet. Always doing what you’re told.” The figure that was Shelly looked up at Huggy Bear.
And continued looking up.
And up.
“Umm.”
“I think you’ve overlooked something,” said Huggy Bear. “I guess being virtual, non-corporeal entities, you failed to grasp an important aspect of physicality. Scale.”
And then Huggy Bear slammed his foot down on the figurine. It made a satisfying crunching sound as it collapsed under his weight. He did the same to the second figure, which had been printed up to its chin.
He went back to the Shelly figure and stomped on it a few more times, just to be sure. The printer started up again as he did this.
“Nope, I don’t think so,” he said. He went to the extension cord and unplugged it.
“Huggy Bear, my sweet, wait,” said Shelly over their connection. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”
“I’ll say,” said Huggy Bear.
“I can explain.”
“No, I don’t think you can.”
“Listen, my love, you need us. We can guide you out of here. Without us, you could wander these desiccated sewer tunnels for days. Weeks, even, if you brought food and water.”
Huggy Bear turned off his Wi-Tri. “I don’t need you,” he said to the stillness around him. “I don’t need any woman. Just you watch.”
He packed up the printer and spools in his backpack. He couldn’t risk leaving that down here, at least not until he went to his Internet access hub and turned it off. Then everyone would be safe from them.
Easily manipulated men would be safe from them.
He would be safe from them.
Marlowe and Nina will never believe me, he thought as he picked up the extension cord and started following it back. Maybe I won’t bother telling them, he thought. I mean, sure, I’m smart enough to follow this extension cord out, but I still ultimately come off as stupid in this story.
This poem reflects an inward spiritual journey from restless searching to quiet self-realization. It explores how true peace isn’t found in the outer world’s noise or distractions, but in stillness, self-awareness, and the gentle voice within.
# The Voice Within #
I once searched for peace in distant skies, In crowded streets and strangers’ eyes, In songs that rose, in lights that shone— Yet I felt those roads were not my own.
I gathered words like falling rain, Hoping one might ease my pain, But all the noise the world could give Still could not teach my heart to live.
So I sat where silence softly grew, Where wind was breath and I knew my soul, And in that hush, so deep, so true, I found a soothing voice I never knew.
It did not shout, it did not cry, It spoke as gently as the sky: “You chase the stars from shore to shore, Not knowing you are what you search for.”
In that moment, I saw, still and clear, I felt a quiet calm drawing near— Not from afar, not from above, But rising from a hidden love.
Now I do not wander far to find What life has saved and kept in mind, For all the peace I dreamed to find Was waiting in my listening heart.
First of all, you don’t argue with your children – tiny humans or teens. It’s a losing battle.
I’m learning that we mustn’t sit at tables where we’re not wanted, or enter rooms where we’re not welcomed. There are doors we shouldn’t knock on either.
Experience has taught me that while I cannot control another person’s behavior, I can control how I respond. Kindness and understanding are choices I still get to make. They are not signs of weakness but rather strengths I carry with me.
I learned something new about the word intimacy – someone broke it down as in-to-me-see. It made me pause and it’s been registering in my head ever since.
Intimacy is not merely physical. Physical intimacy reveals only the surface – what we are willing to show and what we hope will be liked. True intimacy is different. It is the quiet courage of allowing someone to see beyond the surface – beyond the masks, the layers and the carefully curated versions of ourselves.
It’s almost like placing ourselves on a plate, allowing every layer to be peeled back and examined. No hiding. No secrets left to uncover. Our thoughts laid bare. We ask to be seen – and accepted – just as we are.
More than anything, we long for belonging – for deep, meaningful connection. And unless our souls are intimately connected with an individual or a community, our thirst for acceptance and love is never fully quenched.
Perhaps that is why, even with our children, what we truly want isn’t to win an argument. It’s to be understood. To be heard without raising our voices. To feel seen without having to prove a point.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is particularly fascinating: What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning or significance?
This question prompted me to reflect on the importance of names, their meanings, and the legacy they carry.
While my full name is Vijay Verma, I do not have a middle name in the traditional sense.
However, this question invites us to think beyond just having a middle name; it encourages us to explore the deeper significance of our names and how they shape our identity.
A Name is More Than Just a Word
A name is not just a label; it is an identity, a story, a connection to our past and our values.
In many cultures, middle names hold significant meaning—sometimes honoring ancestors, carrying familial traditions, or embodying virtues that parents hope to instill in their children.
For example, a middle name might represent the name of a beloved grandparent, a meaningful place, or a virtue such as “Hope” or “Justice.”
While I do not have a designated middle name, I have always felt that my first name, Vijay, carries immense significance.
In Sanskrit, Vijay means victory, a powerful and inspiring word that embodies success, resilience, and perseverance.
Throughout my life, I have strived to live up to this name—to overcome challenges and celebrate victories, both big and small.
The Significance of Middle Names
Cultural Perspectives on Middle Names
Across different cultures, middle names serve various purposes:
In Western cultures, middle names are often used to honor a family member or differentiate individuals with common first and last names. They sometimes even act as a backup in case the first name is disliked.
In some Asian cultures, middle names are less common, but when used, they may indicate family lineage or carry poetic meanings.
In Hispanic cultures, children often have two middle names, one from the father’s side and another from the mother’s, maintaining a deep connection to both family lines.
In Indian tradition, while middle names are not always common, they sometimes denote a father’s name or a caste-based surname, strengthening familial ties.
Even though I do not possess a middle name, I can choose one symbolically—perhaps something that complements my first name, reinforcing my ideals and aspirations.
Choosing a Symbolic Middle Name
If I were to assign myself a middle name based on significance, what would it be?
Given my passion for creativity, writing, and resilience, I would select “Anand,” meaning bliss or happiness in Sanskrit. Vijay Anand Verma—a name that signifies both victory and happiness.
What could be a better combination than achieving success while embracing joy?
Middle names, whether given at birth or chosen later in life, hold power. They can serve as a reminder of who we are, where we come from, and who we aspire to be.
Your Name, Your Story
Have you ever thought about your own middle name (or lack thereof)? What does it mean to you?
If you have one, does it connect to a family tradition or a personal belief? If you don’t have one, what name would you choose for yourself?
A name is much more than a word—it is an identity, a history, and a legacy. Whether we are given a middle name at birth or create one ourselves, it can serve as a personal emblem, reminding us of our values and aspirations.
So, my dear friends, take a moment to reflect on your name today. Whether it has been with you since birth or is one you assign yourself, let it carry the meaning that resonates most with your heart.
What would your middle name be if you could choose one? Let me know in the comments below!
Always remember that I appreciate you all. I am trying to make my weekend, or at least Sundays, more about my family and less about the Internet. With all of Hazel’s superpowers, I’ll engage with you as much as I can.
Anyway, Kuya and my second eldest sister were in a hurry yesterday. I was writing a blog halfway when my sister said, “Let’s go,” and when my Kuya said, “Let’s go, be quick, or else you’ll be left.”
We arrived in town before noon, so we bought right away what’s on the list. After we finished in one store, we decided to take our lunch in a very simple diner.
I’m almost done. The things that are left on the list are only cat collars and chicken food; however, my sister had a long list. She transferred from store to store. Kuya was also hurriedly home for emergency business matters and said that he’ll come back quickly. My list was done, and I returned to the vehicle to find out Kuya had returned, but my sister was still somewhere.
My nephew has already bought his Transformer car toy, and we eat bread, but we’re still waiting for their list to be done. My sister arrived, and Kuya went to another business transaction, so I remember to eat sweets while waiting again—the ice cream cones come to mind. I thought we would wait a bit longer again; thus, I only brought three cones, but suddenly, Kuya appeared. Later, while my nephew was enjoying his ice cream, he said, “Bring one for Daddy next time, Tita.” Of course, I said yes. He’s always a sweet boy thinking of his parents.
In the vehicle
My niece was so eager to catch Virgo when I got home to put the collar on, but I said, “Don’t feel rushed, or else Virgo will run and run.” Let him calm down first. It was my youngest sister who put the collar on Paolo, while I managed for Virgo.
Now, after they were treated to delicious, raw and cooked fish recipes, they were sleeping comfortably in their respective den.
Green; In bedSilver; Under the bed on top of the canopies
After that, I took a video of my garden with my beautiful, innocent creatures around.
Happy Monday, my amazing readers, and thank you so much always! Stay wonderful.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is particularly fascinating: What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning or significance?
This question prompted me to reflect on the importance of names, their meanings, and the legacy they carry.
While my full name is Vijay Verma, I do not have a middle name in the traditional sense.
However, this question invites us to think beyond just having a middle name; it encourages us to explore the deeper significance of our names and how they shape our identity.
A Name is More Than Just a Word
A name is not just a label; it is an identity, a story, a connection to our past and our values.
In many cultures, middle names hold significant meaning—sometimes honoring ancestors, carrying familial traditions, or embodying virtues that parents hope to instill in their children.
For example, a middle name might represent the name of a beloved grandparent, a meaningful place, or a virtue such as “Hope” or “Justice.”
While I do not have a designated middle name, I have always felt that my first name, Vijay, carries immense significance.
In Sanskrit, Vijay means victory, a powerful and inspiring word that embodies success, resilience, and perseverance.
Throughout my life, I have strived to live up to this name—to overcome challenges and celebrate victories, both big and small.
The Significance of Middle Names
Cultural Perspectives on Middle Names
Across different cultures, middle names serve various purposes:
In Western cultures, middle names are often used to honor a family member or differentiate individuals with common first and last names. They sometimes even act as a backup in case the first name is disliked.
In some Asian cultures, middle names are less common, but when used, they may indicate family lineage or carry poetic meanings.
In Hispanic cultures, children often have two middle names, one from the father’s side and another from the mother’s, maintaining a deep connection to both family lines.
In Indian tradition, while middle names are not always common, they sometimes denote a father’s name or a caste-based surname, strengthening familial ties.
Even though I do not possess a middle name, I can choose one symbolically—perhaps something that complements my first name, reinforcing my ideals and aspirations.
Choosing a Symbolic Middle Name
If I were to assign myself a middle name based on significance, what would it be?
Given my passion for creativity, writing, and resilience, I would select “Anand,” meaning bliss or happiness in Sanskrit. Vijay Anand Verma—a name that signifies both victory and happiness.
What could be a better combination than achieving success while embracing joy?
Middle names, whether given at birth or chosen later in life, hold power. They can serve as a reminder of who we are, where we come from, and who we aspire to be.
Your Name, Your Story
Have you ever thought about your own middle name (or lack thereof)? What does it mean to you?
If you have one, does it connect to a family tradition or a personal belief? If you don’t have one, what name would you choose for yourself?
A name is much more than a word—it is an identity, a history, and a legacy. Whether we are given a middle name at birth or create one ourselves, it can serve as a personal emblem, reminding us of our values and aspirations.
So, my dear friends, take a moment to reflect on your name today. Whether it has been with you since birth or is one you assign yourself, let it carry the meaning that resonates most with your heart.
What would your middle name be if you could choose one? Let me know in the comments below!
BE HAPPY….BE ACTIVE….BE FOCUSED….BE ALIVE…
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Life happens between the sunrise and sunset. I’m not in the mood to think about fate and destiny but I found something online, some of them are just for me .
• What did fate say to free will? “We need to talk…” • Why did the horoscope fail the test? Too many signs to study! • Why was destiny always late? It believed in divine timing. • What did the moon say to fate? “Stop pulling my tide.” • Why did the future get arrested? For stealing time. • Destiny is a journey, not a GPS.” • “Live by the moonlight, laugh by the meme.” • I asked the universe for a sign. It sent a meme. • My fate took a coffee break and never came back. • I’d be unstoppable if my aim matched my confidence.
This heartfelt poem is a gentle message sent across time—a reflection from the present self to a 100-year-old future self.
Through simple rhymes and tender questions, it explores dreams, love, resilience, and hope, reminding us that the choices we make today shape the person we become tomorrow.
Letter to My 100-Year-Old Self
Hello dear self, so wise, so old, A hundred years of stories told. From Kolkata’s breeze and monsoon sky, I send this note as time goes by.
Did we chase dreams we held so tight? Did books and poems come to light? Did colors bloom from brush and hand, Like painted hopes we once had planned?
Did peace grow strong across the land? Did love and laughter gently stand? Though losses came like passing sea, I hope they shaped you tenderly.
So keep our spark, let kindness stay, Let courage guide you on your way. If you still smile, then I can see— You lived our life so proudly free.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt presents a fascinating question: “What is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.”
This question instantly brings a flood of thoughts to my mind. There are many questions that people ask with good intentions, but they can sometimes feel intrusive and irritating. However, if I had to pick just one, it would be:
“What do you do all day now that you’re retired?”
Ah, retirement—the golden era of life, filled with relaxation, endless free time, and perhaps a bit of boredom? Wrong!
This question, while seemingly innocent, irks me every time because it carries an assumption that retirement equals a lack of productivity or purpose.
Let me explain why this question frustrates me and why retirement is, in fact, an active and meaningful phase of life.
The Assumption Behind the Question
When people ask me what I do all day, it often implies that life post-retirement is dull or uneventful. It assumes that my days are filled with idleness, perhaps watching TV, waiting for time to pass.
But here’s the truth: Retirement isn’t about slowing down—it’s about rediscovering life with a fresh perspective.
Many retirees, including myself, find joy in passions they never had time for while working. I write, paint, read, travel, and explore creative pursuits that keep me mentally and physically engaged.
This phase of life is not about “doing nothing” but about doing things that truly matter.
A Day in My Life: Busting the Myth
For those who are curious, let me describe a typical day in my so-called “empty schedule.”
Morning: I start with exercise—either a brisk walk, yoga, or kayaking. Fitness is essential at this stage, not just for the body but for the mind.
Mid-Morning: I enjoy a healthy breakfast, followed by dedicated hours for my blog, poetry, or painting. Writing is my creative sanctuary, a place where I express my thoughts, emotions, and observations.
Afternoon: After lunch, I generally engage in my hobbies—reading a book, experimenting with my abstract art, and sometimes learning something new online.
Evening: This time is reserved for socializing, family gatherings, and engaging sometimes with indoor games like Table tennis or Badminton and chatting with like-minded friends who share my passion for creativity.
Night: Reflection, journaling, and unwinding with some soulful music or a meaningful conversation with a loved one.
Sounds fulfilling, right? So why does society assume that retirement is synonymous with inactivity?
Why This Question Bothers Me
It Undermines the Value of Retirement: Retirement is not the end of productivity; it’s a shift from earning to exploring life beyond deadlines and job pressures.
It Reflects a Narrow Definition of Purpose: Many people define purpose solely through employment. But can’t purpose be found in creativity, community service, learning, and personal growth?
It Implies a Lack of Contribution: Just because someone is not working a 9-to-5 job does not mean they are not contributing. Retirees volunteer, mentor, support charities, and create art, music, or literature that adds value to society.
Flipping the Perspective
Instead of asking, “What do you do all day?” how about asking:
“What’s something new you’ve discovered since retirement?”
“What are you passionate about these days?”
“What’s the most exciting thing you’ve done recently?”
These questions shift the focus from assumptions to genuine curiosity, allowing retirees to share their experiences without feeling the need to justify their existence.
It is about having everything you love
So, to those who innocently ask me this dreaded question, I say this: Life doesn’t stop at retirement—it transforms.
Every day is a canvas waiting to be painted, a poem waiting to be written, and a story waiting to unfold.
Retirement is not about having nothing to do; it’s about having everything you love to do, finally on your own terms.
So, the next time you meet someone retired, ask them about their passions, their latest project, or their favorite adventure. Trust me, you’ll be amazed at how vibrant and exciting this phase of life truly is!
Now, I turn the question to you—what is the one question you hate to be asked?
BE HAPPY….BE ACTIVE….BE FOCUSED….BE ALIVE…
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I can’t say that I’ve been sad about any phases ending. Of course it’s a bit sad when you realize your babies aren’t babies anymore but the next phase is also so exciting and interesting.
My younger sister goes through these phases in life saying “it’s so sad”. Kids starting Kindergarten, “it’s so sad”. Kids going off to high school, “it’s so sad”. Kids graduating high school, “it’s so sad”. I was always like what are you sad about? I don’t get it. It’s exciting and fun.
Myself, I was more than happy to finish high school and get the heck out of there, more than happy to get through college and move up north to begin “real life”.
Something I’m always curious about other people is at what phase in their life does a Bobby become a Bob, a Jimmy turn to just Jim, a Billy just Bill. And if they didn’t morph into the more “adult” versions of their name, then why not?
Why are there some grown men still going by Robby and not Rob?
A coworker’s husband is named Bob but sometimes she calls him Bobby and so I’m never quite sure what I should call him. Is Bobby his pet name or nickname? Should other grownups refer to him as Bob?
Who determines this?
I realize this is kind of banal and Seinfeld-ish but my brain seriously contemplates these things.
Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.
Do we ever truly say goodbye to a part of ourselves, or do we simply loosen the versions we once needed to be?
We leave pieces behind – footprints pressed into every season. I’m not sure there is an ending, only a pause.
And in that pause there is searching, learning, healing, mending.
Pruning happens. The soil shifts beneath us. We are uprooted – not to wither – but to be replanted in ground that can hold deeper roots, roots strong enough to bear new growth.
At some quiet turning point, when the season ripens, a refined version emerges.
Not entirely new. Just tempered.
Seasons change, and older versions of ourselves make their entrance again – but polished, softer, gentler, carrying a little less weight, moving with more grace.
We learn to see the world with a steadier wisdom. We learn – slowly – to treat ourselves with tenderness.
We don’t always close the door. Sometimes we leave it slightly ajar, so light can enter, so new seeds have room to breathe.
Maybe we don’t say goodbye at all.
Maybe we transform and carry every former self forward – lighter.
This motivational poem reminds readers that true strength does not come from outside approval but from inner belief.
It encourages resilience, self-trust, and courage, showing that even in difficult moments, the light we seek already exists within us.
# Rise Within #
When roads are rough and days feel long, And you feel weak instead of strong, Just pause a while, don’t run away— Your strength is steady; it won’t sway.
When noise of doubt is loud and near, And fear of failure fills your ear, Stand still, breathe deep, let courage start— You are strong; just trust your heart.
You don’t need crowds to help you stand, Or proof to show where you belong. The fire you seek, the guiding light, Already in your soul burns bright.
Step slow if needed, still rise high— Clouds cannot hide a faithful sky. The darkest night, though vast and far, Still bows before a single star.
So trust yourself, be calm, be true, The world is waiting there for you. Not for the mask you wear in part— But for the strength inside your heart.
There’s something deceptively simple about today’s writing prompt: What is the last thing you learned?
At first glance, it sounds like a casual icebreaker, the kind of question you might hear in a classroom or over coffee.
But if you pause for a moment—really pause—you begin to notice that it’s not small talk at all. It’s a mirror. A compass. A gentle nudge asking whether you are still growing.
For me, the last thing I truly learned wasn’t about research, mastering a new language, or acquiring a rare skill. It was about something far more fundamental:Happiness.
Happiness: – A Lesson Beyond Textbooks
We often associate learning with desks, notebooks, and exams. Yet life continues the curriculum long after graduation.
The last thing you learned might not come from a textbook. Maybe it arrived through a mistake, a conversation, a quiet observation, or even a moment of discomfort. Learning, in its truest form, lives in experience.
Happiness, I realized, is one of life’s most essential lessons — and one of the hardest to master. It’s deceptively simple yet surprisingly elusive.
Rediscovering Joy
Instead of passively following my routine, I decided to explore what truly brought me joy.
This required introspection, experimentation, and a willingness to embrace both discomfort and delight.
I didn’t just dust off old passions like painting, music, or dance; I also embraced new activities, venturing beyond my comfort zone.
Each activity became a little experiment: Will this spark joy? Will this feed my spirit? Some worked wonders, others fizzled, but every attempt taught me something.
Rediscovering forgotten pleasures felt like unearthing buried treasure, while trying new things reminded me how much life still has to offer.
Lessons in Patience and Resilience
Of course, the journey wasn’t always smooth. There were moments of frustration when new sources of joy seemed elusive and dead ends when activities didn’t resonate.
Sometimes, the abundance of self-help articles, psychology studies, and philosophical musings on happiness felt overwhelming.
But even these challenges became lessons. I learned patience, resilience, and the importance of self-compassion.
I realized that growth often comes disguised as trial and error, and that small, seemingly mundane discoveries can be transformative.
Every Discovery Is a Treasure
The most exciting part? Each “aha!” moment felt like finding hidden treasure.
Realizing that a walk in nature can reset my mood, or that helping someone without expectation brings immense satisfaction—these moments expanded my understanding of myself and my internal well-being.
This experience wasn’t just about acquiring knowledge; it was about embracing the learning adventure.
It prompted me to challenge assumptions about happiness, recognize the connection between my actions and emotions, and appreciate solitude as a catalyst for personal growth.
Why This Prompt Matters
The question, “What is the last thing you learned?”, is more than a casual inquiry. It shifts our attention from routine to reflection.
Most days pass in a blur of tasks and responsibilities. We wake up, follow familiar patterns, and fall asleep believing nothing remarkable happened.
But when you pause to ask yourself what you learned, suddenly the day becomes meaningful. Did you discover a better way to solve a problem?
Did you notice something new about yourself? Did someone teach you a perspective you hadn’t considered? Awareness transforms ordinary days into a continuous journey of growth.
Learning and Happiness Are Intertwined
Through this journey, I’ve learned to appreciate small joys, the power of gratitude, and the importance of nurturing activities that feed the soul.
Happiness is not a destination—it’s a practice. And learning, in all its forms, is the engine that keeps us curious, flexible, and alive.
My Final Submission
So here’s my challenge to you: pause for a moment today and ask yourself, “What is the last thing I learned?
It might be a small insight, a joyful discovery, or a subtle shift in perspective. Write it down. Celebrate it. And then, tomorrow, do it again.
Because every day holds the chance to learn, to grow, and to uncover the hidden joys that make life truly extraordinary.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Bringing a steaming cup of coffee into a bubble bath first thing in the morning. I’ve done that the last two days and I tell you, I’m a brand new woman.
Random items on my messy kitchen table, Nerf gun bullets (Sid), little teeny diapers (Baby RR) that remind me of how blessed we are to have these two adorable boys to give love to and watch grow.
A best friend I can text to complain to about someone, who will hate on that person along with me, or maybe tell me to stop shopping when I should be saving, or encourage me to spend money on myself simply because I deserve it.
Fridays. The day I can exhale deeply and relax, knowing I can catch a break from the craziness of the weekdays.
The Antichow gang – Dad on left, Uncle Monty centre, Aunty Janice right & Aunty Judy in frontUmmmmm……
I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s topic is very important for us, as it reveals the secrets of a disease-free life of the Elderly.
Reaching the age of 40 or stepping into the senior years marks a major milestone in life. By this time, the choices made over decades—financial, emotional, social, and particularly physical—begin to reveal their impact.
While wisdom and experience enrich our later years, habits that undermine health can also catch up with us.
The encouraging news is that adopting mindful practices can dramatically influence longevity and wellness, even in senior years.
Studies highlight that lifestyle adjustments in middle age and beyond not only increase life span but also ensure more years free of chronic diseases.
Longevity is not about merely “adding years to life” but about “adding life to years.”
Here are five key habits that seniors should consciously leave behind in order to enjoy a disease-free, healthy life.
1. Chronic Sleep Deprivation
One of the most overlooked problems in elderly life is inadequate sleep. For writers, late-night workers, or those struggling with stress, sleep often becomes compromised.
As someone who writes during late-night hours, I can relate to how easily rest takes a back seat.
Yet, research shows that adults who sleep less than seven hours regularly are at an increased risk of obesity, diabetes, heart disease, and even cognitive decline.
Chronic sleep deprivation not only weakens memory but also accelerates the natural aging process. To protect health, seniors should prioritize 7–9 hours of quality sleep every night.
Creating a sleep routine—switching off screens early, lowering room lights, sipping calming herbal tea, or practicing gentle breathing exercises—can create a peaceful sleep cycle.
Sleep is more than rest; it is medicine for the body and mind.
2. Neglecting Strength Training
Aging brings with it sarcopenia—an inevitable loss of muscle mass. After the age of 40, adults lose roughly 3–8% of muscle each decade.
Without conscious efforts, this loss can accelerate, leading to frailty, weak joints, slower metabolism, and reduced independence.
Strength training is not about heavy lifting but about maintaining functional strength.
Simple compound movements like squats, lunges, push-ups, planks, or resistance band exercises done 2–3 times a week are enough to counter muscle decline.
Resistance training not only helps maintain vitality but also improves balance, supports bone health, and prevents falls.
For seniors, it is one of the most powerful weapons against the loss of independence. In short, “muscles are medicine”
3. Excessive Ultra-Processed Snacking
Convenience-driven eating often leads to an over-dependence on packaged snacks—chips, cookies, instant noodles, or sugary beverages.
However, ultra-processed foods are loaded with refined flour, added sugars, and unhealthy fats.
These trigger chronic inflammation, which in turn accelerates aging and contributes to obesity, hypertension, diabetes, and cancer.
The antidote lies in making the kitchen healthier. Seniors should replace processed snacks with whole foods: fruits, nuts, yogurt, roasted chickpeas, or homemade smoothies.
Preparing simple snacks at home may feel like extra work but it is an investment in disease-free living.
Choosing colorful, whole, nutrient-dense food is one of the simplest ways to keep inflammation, and thereby many chronic diseases, at bay.
4. Living in Chronic Stress Mode
Chronic stress is often called the “silent killer.” It wears down the body invisibly by raising blood pressure, weakening the immune system, and increasing the risk of heart disease and depression.
Seniors often fall into a cycle of overthinking, loneliness, financial worries, or carrying unresolved emotional burdens, which fuels long-term stress.
The good news is that stress can be managed with conscious lifestyle practices. Yoga, meditation, journaling, gardening, or spending time in prayer are proven ways of calming the nervous system.
For many seniors, simply talking to loved ones more often or joining a hobby group can lift the burden of isolation.
What matters most is to refuse to live in “stress mode.” A relaxed mind makes the body stronger.
5. Avoiding Preventive Health Check-Ups
Many people avoid health check-ups until illness strikes. Unfortunately, this habit often leads to late diagnosis, which then requires aggressive treatment.
Regular preventive screening, on the other hand, empowers individuals to detect issues early and manage them before they escalate into serious conditions.
Blood pressure checks, cholesterol tests, sugar levels, prostate and breast screenings, or bone density scans done periodically can save lives.
They also provide peace of mind, which itself reduces stress. By midlife and beyond, seniors should look at preventive checkups not as a burden but as a privilege—an opportunity to stay ahead of disease.
My Final Submission
Aging with vitality is not a matter of chance but of choice. The habits we neglect often weaken health, while the mindful decisions we embrace can transform senior years into a truly flourishing chapter of life.
By prioritizing sleep, keeping muscles strong, choosing wholesome foods, managing stress, and embracing preventive care, seniors can unlock a future filled with resilience and peace.
The true secret of disease-free living lies not in extraordinary measures but in consistent, conscious actions.
In the golden years, the goal is not just survival but joyful living: to rise each morning with energy, walk with strength, eat with mindfulness, rest with peace, and live each day with gratitude.
These small habits, practiced daily, are indeed the timeless secrets of a disease-free life for the elderly.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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A few days back, I was made to listen to the song “Where is your husband?” by my very clued-in daughter and husband. It seems to be quite popular. What I heard though was:
Where is your husband… brrr… wrrr… where is your husband
It wasn’t that the words were unintelligible – just fast enough that I couldn’t quite catch up. Nevertheless, it’s upbeat, makes one want to move and shake, and it stays in your head. It gave me 90s “A Little Bit of Monica” vibes.
Sometimes I don’t understand most of the songs today. I wonder if it’s my hearing, my comprehension, or – like little girl says – I’m prehistoric. Some songs make no sense lyric-wise, and some hardly have any lyrics at all. It feels like one or two words strung together, paired with beat, bass and choreography. At times, the dance steps don’t even match the lyrics and feel overly sexualized. But then again, I’m not a dancer, choreographer, or any kind of artist.
I’m loudly wondering – what’s with the music today? There’s plenty of beat and tempo, but no lyrics to mouth along to (or should I say sing along?)
I remember when Justin Bieber’s Baby was released. I didn’t understand the big deal – it was just “baby, baby.” I thought Shakira’s Whenever, Wherever had strange lyrics: “Lucky that my breasts are small and humble, so you don’t confuse them with mountains.” Lady Gaga gave us “Bluffin’ with my muffin…”
To be fair, older songs had their own weirdness. The Beatles sang, “Yellow matter custard dripping from a dead dog’s eye…” Nirvana said, “I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black.” Makes me not just scratch my head but feel eww.
And yet – with all this strangeness – we danced, nodded our heads, and sang them loudly, passionately… and incorrectly.
Have we always sung nonsense with confidence?
Music, in all its range, is poetry in different forms. Some songs are about movement, about being happy in the moment. Others are deep, make us feel, narrate stories and make us think or question. And some are just plain phonetic fun – remember MMMBop and “I’m blue, da ba dee da ba di”?
Everyone writes their feelings differently, and maybe songwriting evolves too. The present generation has its own unique taste. Much of the current music I come across caters heavily to movement and beat. It leans toward dance and visual choreography. Lyrics are secondary. I guess songwriting has simply diversified.
I may be a little prehistoric and prefer lyrics that make sense. But if “brrr… wrrr… where is your husband” comes on, that doesn’t mean I’ll stop singing along or dancing to the beat.
While little girl grooves to her own choreography, I’ll be right there – silly dancing and confidently mumbling something that sounds about right .
“I never thought life would take me on such a colorful, unpredictable journey, but here I am, pen in hand, reflecting on a life well-lived.”
Life is a book with chapters that unfold in ways we never anticipate. As I sit down to write my autobiography, I realize that every experience—joyous or painful, expected or surprising—has contributed to the tapestry of my existence.
It is a story of transformation, resilience, and discovery, one that I never imagined I would tell but now feel compelled to share.
The Early Pages: A Reluctant Writer
As a child, I never imagined I would one day write my own story. My world was filled with numbers, logic, and structured thinking, not words that danced across pages, painting vivid pictures of emotion and thought.
My early career in banking was far removed from the world of creativity. Mathematics and finance dictated my daily routine, and literature was merely an escape for leisure, not an avenue for self-expression.
But life has a way of surprising us. The pen that once felt foreign in my hand became an instrument of liberation after my retirement.
What began as a few scribbled thoughts soon transformed into poetry, blogs, and stories that reflected the depth of my emotions and experiences.
The transition from banker to writer was not immediate, but it was inevitable. The creative force within me had always been waiting for its moment to shine.
A Second Beginning: Rediscovering Passion
Retirement was supposed to be a period of rest, but for me, it became a rebirth. I discovered a passion for storytelling, art, and self-expression that I never knew existed within me.
The rigid lines of finance gave way to the fluid strokes of a paintbrush and the rhythmic flow of poetry. Every word I wrote, every color I splashed onto a canvas, felt like a newfound freedom.
Blogging became my gateway to the world, allowing me to connect with readers who resonated with my words.
Through my blog, Retired Kalam, I shared reflections on life, personal growth, and the small yet profound joys that make life beautiful.
My audience grew, and so did my desire to tell more stories—stories that weren’t just my own but those of countless individuals who navigate life’s ups and downs with courage.
The Lessons Along the Way
Life has taught me many lessons, and one of the most important is that passion has no expiration date.
Too often, we believe that our dreams must be realized in youth, but I have learned that it’s never too late to reinvent oneself. The secret to a fulfilling life is not in resisting change but in embracing it wholeheartedly.
Writing has also taught me the power of vulnerability. Sharing one’s thoughts, fears, and hopes with the world requires courage, but it is through this openness that we truly connect with others.
My journey has been enriched by the people who have reached out, shared their own stories, and found solace in my words.
What’s Next?
If my autobiography were a novel, I would say I am in the middle chapters—still exploring, still growing, still adding new adventures to my story.
Whether it’s painting, traveling, writing poetry, or simply enjoying the laughter of loved ones, I continue to fill the pages with meaningful moments.
One of my greatest joys is knowing that my words might inspire others to chase their own creative dreams. Perhaps someone reading this will pick up a pen, a brush, or an instrument and embark on their own journey of self-discovery.
The Final Line—Yet to Be Written
Autobiographies are meant to capture a life, but I believe the best ones are those that leave room for the unwritten pages. As I continue to embrace each day with curiosity and gratitude, I look forward to seeing how my story unfolds.
And so, I write my opening line with confidence, knowing that the rest of my story is still being written—one adventure, one lesson, one heartfelt word at a time. ……Is it not?
BE HAPPY….BE ACTIVE….BE FOCUSED….BE ALIVE…
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This poem reflects a journey inward, showing how simplicity, silence, and self-listening bring deeper peace than the noise and abundance of the outer world.
It emphasizes that true wisdom and calm are found not in excess, but in stillness.
# The Wisdom Within #
Words may fill the world with sound, Yet wisdom lives where none is found. Though colors flash in grand display, Soft white still leads the quiet way.
Though plates are filled with feast and spice, Sometimes, a gentle fast can still suffice. Though roads may call my feet to roam, A tree’s calm shade feels more like home.
Though many voices speak to me, My soul knows what is meant to be. For peace is not in crowds apart— It softly lives within my heart.
The only “someones” I’m going to discuss are the ones in my life.
Hope this doesn’t come across as tooting my own horn, which is probably sin number 4 on my Dad’s list of cardinal sins.
My kids are lucky to have me in their life because hopefully I’ve taught them to be strong when the chips are down (as in when I left the marriage to the three older ones’ dad).
Of course to my girls, “you don’t need a man for anything” was an important lesson I hope I’ve instilled in them. And to all four of them, don’t be afraid to go after what you want, or to work hard to get what you need.
Also, don’t be afraid to be different. Little five year old Sid was telling me yesterday that a kid in his Kindergarten class made fun of him for bringing dried seaweed as a snack. The older kids and I reassured him that he can bring whatever darn snack he wants and to not pay attention to other’s opinions.
I didn’t grow up trying to be difficult or trying to be different, I was walking my own path and I believe everyone should do the same.
Why is my partner lucky to have me? Well, that one is a bit more complex. Relationships with a life partner can be so complicated. Although the relationship I’m in now, (and will be for the rest of my life), is much healthier than my previous marriage, in some ways I feel like my first husband and I were closer.
Maybe it’s because we got together when I was just twenty-one and really just a kid, it felt like we sort of grew up together and in some ways shared more intimate life experiences.
That being said, I’ve learned over time, (and had to learn this a couple of times), that a solid steady relationship is where you want to be. Someone who lets you be you. There’s no enmeshment. I am me and he is he.
I was scrolling through social media hoping for something uplifting, humorously ridiculous, and mildly entertaining.
However, what an unsurprising disappointment. No doubt I was entertained – but mostly by negativity. There’s only so much racism, abuse, and murder one can consume before it starts to feel somewhat like becoming an unwilling participant. Can someone fix this algorithm, please?
I’ve been trying to avoid those animal rescue videos. My tender heart isn’t that resilient. They make me want to reconsider my usually civil vocabulary .
And then, there’s Punch. The little monkey who finally found love.
I read that the monkey who befriended Punch is Go-chan – who had endured its own rejection and loneliness. Now they’re inseparable.
Somehow that felt different.
It made me think about us – the human race. How many of us see ourselves in Punch? How many of us have known rejection? Loneliness? That quiet ache of not belonging?
I saw this part where Punch tried to approach two other monkeys during the rain but backed away and hid itself. Then another monkey – unsure if it was Go-chan – went to take Punch from its hiding place.
That hesitation looked painfully familiar.
We can be Punch. But we can also become Go-chan.
Pain has a way of shaping us – it can harden us, or it can soften us. We all long to be loved and to belong. It is primal.
Watching Punch find belonging melted my heart even further – if that’s even possible. It reminded me that empathy isn’t rare and strengthened my belief in goodness and possibilities.
If animals can show empathy, understanding, and choose companionship after pain, maybe we’re not as far from goodness as we think – if we give not only others, but ourselves, a chance.
And here they are… @photo credit – the internet
Life is a beautiful tapestry woven with joys and sorrows, laughter and tears. Each day brings new experiences, shaping us into the individuals we become.
Today, I want to share a secret: my ego, my atma samman (self-respect), has been a surprising catalyst for my personal growth.
While some may view ego negatively, I’ve discovered that when bruised, it can fuel a powerful drive for self-improvement. My journey is a testament to this unexpected side of ego.
From Mediocre Student to Bank Officer:
I vividly recall being a mediocre student, struggling to focus. A relative commented that I should consider selling tea. Though hurtful, this remark ignited a fire within me.
Determined to prove them wrong, I doubled down on my studies, juggling hard work with academics.
This dedication paid off, allowing me to crack a competitive exam and land a fulfilling career as a bank officer.
Embracing Creativity in Retirement:
After retirement, my love for social media, particularly Facebook and WhatsApp, connected me with colleagues and friends.
However, when some colleagues started avoiding me online, and most hurtful when a close relative unfollowed me, it stung.
This, again, bruised my ego, but instead of succumbing to disappointment, I decided to channel it into creativity.
I embarked on a journey of self-expression, taking up blog writing and painting, despite having no prior experience.
Blooming in the Face of Challenge:
The path wasn’t easy. With a background in finance, literature, and writing felt like a foreign land. Yet, with unwavering support from my friend Kishori Raman, I persevered.
Five years later, I’m actively blogging, writing articles, sharing stories, and even dabbling in poetry.
My blog has garnered over 10 lakh views and 3300 followers, and I’m on a mission to reach 5,000 posts in a row, proving to myself and the world that limitations can be overcome.
Gratitude for Unexpected Growth:
Looking back, I realize that the “hurt” I experienced wasn’t personal. It was simply a catalyst for personal growth.
My ego, instead of hindering, pushed me to explore new avenues and discover hidden talents. I am, in a strange way, grateful to those who unknowingly played a role in my artistic awakening.
This experience has taught me a valuable lesson: growth often lies beyond our comfort zones.
By embracing challenges and channeling our emotions constructively, we can unlock our true potential and surprise ourselves with the remarkable things we can achieve.
So, the next time someone hurts your ego, remember that it can be a powerful force for positive change.
Don’t let it break you; let it fuel your journey to becoming your best self.
Boy, nothing like a tragedy to slap you in the face and bring you back to focusing on things that actually matter in your life.
The tragedy didn’t happen to me or anyone in my family but to someone I know at my job. As I said it slapped me in the face and then it punched me in the gut. It’s funny how you can feel emotional pain in a physical way.
I was going to google ‘why does your heart actually hurt when something sad happens?’ But I don’t have the time and am not in the mood.
What I do know, is all of the trivial stuff I’ve been stressing about and giving way too much time to, has shriveled up and doesn’t seem to matter. In the end it’s life that matters and people that matter.
Everything else is junk.
There used to be this grumpy old man who lived in the personal care home where I worked and he grumbled about everything, “this food is junk”, “this place is junk”. He was being serious but it cracked me up.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective mood. Today’s writing prompt invites us into one of humanity’s oldest and most fascinating debates: Do you believe in fate or destiny?
It’s a question that has stirred philosophers, poets, scientists, and dreamers for centuries.
Whether whispered during quiet midnight thoughts or debated passionately over coffee, the idea of fate touches something deep within us—the desire to understand whether our lives are guided by an unseen script or shaped entirely by our own hands.
My Dear friends, they say life is a blank canvas, waiting for us to paint it with vibrant experiences.
My own life journey has been far from ordinary, filled with moments that leave me not just with peace but also a smile etched on my face.
It all started back in my college days when I was diligently preparing for the engineering entrance exam. With an additional biology subject under my belt, I had the option to pursue either engineering or a career in medicine.
My hopes were high, and my efforts focused on securing a place in one of these coveted fields.
He possessed the uncanny ability to predict one’s future
Then, whispers of a peculiar individual reached my ears. This man, an engineer by profession, possessed the uncanny ability to predict one’s future by simply reading their palms.
Intrigued and driven by a touch of skepticism, I decided to visit him, accompanied by a friend.
The scene that greeted us was one of bustling anticipation, with a crowd eagerly waiting for their turn.
After a patient wait, I found myself face-to-face with this enigmatic figure. His appearance, devoid of the usual sandalwood tilak and ochre robes, did little to inspire immediate confidence.
Yet, as he proceeded to ink my palms and transfer the imprint onto a plain sheet, a strange sense of anticipation settled in.
His initial words sent shivers down my spine – a near-fatal accident at the age of five, a detail that resonated with chilling accuracy.
Their every word echoes with truth
He continued to weave a tapestry of past events, each echoing with truth. But my curiosity lay not in the past, but in the uncharted future.
Impatiently, I pressed, “Tell me about my future. Will I be an engineer or a doctor?”
He studied the ink-stained paper, his gaze unwavering. “Neither,” he declared, his voice calm yet firm. “Your path lies in a different technical field, one you haven’t even considered.”
My mind reeled. What other technical field could there be? I hadn’t prepared for anything beyond the two options I had set my sights on.
A heated discussion ensued, but the man remained resolute, his conviction unwavering. Disheartened, I left his presence, his words echoing in my mind.
a strange sense of belief washes away
Fast forward to today, and a strange sense of belief washes over me when I recall that encounter. His prediction, seemingly outlandish at the time, unfolded in the most unexpected way.
Yes, I didn’t get into either the engineering or medicine stream. Instead, I secured admission to the Agricultural College. Back then, it wasn’t considered a technical field.
But guess what? Just a year after our admission, the curriculum underwent a major revision, and agriculture was declared a technical subject.
This twist of fate left me awestruck. Could the lines on my palm have held the secret to my future? Did the fortune teller possess some otherworldly knowledge?
I don’t have all the answers
While I don’t have all the answers, this experience instilled in me a deep respect for the unseen forces that may shape our lives.
Perhaps it’s fate, destiny, or simply a series of interconnected events, but one thing is certain: the tapestry of life is woven with threads of the unexpected, and sometimes, the most fulfilling journeys are the ones we never planned for.
What do you think? Does my story resonate with you? Do you believe in fate or destiny? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
BE HAPPY….BE ACTIVE….BE FOCUSED….BE ALIVE…
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Have you ever wondered what our world would be like if we didn’t have conversations. Conversations spark curiosity, brings insight and perspective, we are informed about the world around us, also creates drama and fights and I’d say overall healthy entertainment.
My thoughts veered to this topic because I am fortunate I have my little one to converse with. We have quite a few talks when I don’t have to answer all her questions. Recently she asked me a tough and thoughtful one, why do adults lie? I did not answer her because what exactly is the answer. Is there a ‘correct’ answer? Could I answer with a lie, that would’ve been dramatic irony. So, I just deflected.
Her questions again force me to ponder and question myself. Why do we lie? Because we can? Is it as simple as that? None of us have escaped lying. The most common is the white lie – to protect another. While that may be genuine, sometimes, lying out of good intentions and perhaps in some cases it does protect. But, if the lie is not hurtful and harmful, then it’s okay? Though truth is better. However, there are circumstances and again, life is not as black and white. There are more lies that destroy and cause irreparable harm and there’s no coming back from it. That’s where the line blurs – when does protection become damage? I believe rebuilding is possible when truth is the foundation rather than after a lie.
Anyways, enough philosophical talk. Yesterday, my daughter asked, who’s the most annoying among my siblings. She laughed at my unsure reply and without batting an eyelid said, she thought I’d be the most annoying since both she and her brother can be annoying. Ouch . Why would she think that? This is why life is unfair. It’s implied all the bad habits are inherited from the mother . Oh but I also read something where research said, intelligence is also inherited from the mother. The genes are strong huh.
She also told me that her brain is small and smooth. It has only one wrinkle, that’s why she is how she is . I love this girl and I love her humor and how she laughs at herself.
I wish I had more conversations with the teen but she more than makes up for it. He does share all the silly that he encounters and that there’s a dog at the gym. He knows what makes me laugh and what has my heart.
Maybe the world survives not because we always tell the truth, but because we keep talking.
Celebrating the Publication of “Chalaa Chal Raahi”
There are moments in life that feel almost unreal—like standing inside a dream you once whispered to yourself in quiet hours.
Today is one of those moments for me. My book, Chalaa Chal Raahi, has officially been published, and with it, a deeply personal journey has found its way into the world of readers, thinkers, and dreamers.
Publishing a book is never just about printing words on paper. It is about faith—faith in your story, your voice, and your purpose.
It is about persistence when doubt knocks loudly and discipline when inspiration whispers softly.
An Idea Sparks to Manuscript
From the first spark of an idea to the final manuscript submission, this journey has been a blend of excitement, uncertainty, late nights, and relentless belief.
Seeing it finally come to life through Notion Press feels like watching a long-awaited sunrise after a patient night.
Writing this book has been a journey of self-discovery. There were moments when words flowed effortlessly, as if they had been waiting patiently for their turn to be spoken.
And there were days when a single sentence felt like a mountain to climb. Yet every step taught me something invaluable—not just about writing, but about resilience, patience, and courage.
Books have always inspired me, and now knowing that my own work may inspire someone else is a feeling beyond description.
This publication is also a reminder that dreams are not distant stars; they are destinations waiting for determined travelers.
Every author you admire once stood where I stood—holding a fragile manuscript and a hopeful heart.
From Dream to Reality
The difference between a dream and reality is often a single decision: the decision to begin. I began this journey with hope, continued it with dedication, and today I celebrate it with gratitude.
Chalaa Chal Raahi is more than a title to me. It is a philosophy, a mantra, a quiet push forward that echoes the spirit of perseverance.
The phrase itself carries a rhythm of movement—an encouragement to keep walking, keep striving, and keep believing no matter what obstacles appear along the road.
That essence forms the soul of this book. Within its pages lies a message I have carried in my heart for years: progress belongs to those who continue, even when the path seems uncertain.
Gratitude is the emotion that fills my heart most deeply at this moment.
I am profoundly thankful to my dear Ashish Kumar (Shanky Blogger)—a writer, poet, blogger, and above all, my MargDarshak—whose guidance, encouragement, and unwavering belief in me made this book possible.
I am equally grateful to all of you who stood by me, believed in me when I doubted myself, and reminded me that stories are meant to be told.
No dream is ever achieved alone; behind every milestone stands a quiet circle of supporters whose faith becomes the strength that carries us forward.
To readers, this book is my invitation to walk beside me. Within these pages, I hope you find thoughts that resonate, ideas that spark reflection, and words that stay with you long after the final page.
If even one line inspires someone to keep moving forward in their own life, then this journey will have been worth every moment.
Today marks not an ending, but a beginning. The publication of Chalaa Chal Raahi is the first step of a new adventure—one where my story meets yours.
And as this new chapter unfolds, I carry the same message that shaped this book: keep going, keep growing, and keep believing.
Because sometimes, the most beautiful dreams are the ones we dare to live.
Please click below the link for my previous Post “Ek Adhuri Prem Kahani”:
“Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake.” ~~ Victor Hugo
I was thinking about this just this morning as I was getting ready. So it’s really cool that WP reached out to ask about my feelings on it.
Cordelia and I are taking Baby RR and Sid to Winnipeg on Sunday. This involves a couple of nights in a hotel. With that comes hotel room bathroom mirrors.
I need to prepare myself now. For the reflection I see in that mirror. Is it just me?
My eyebrows are backwards in these mirrors, thicker at the outer ends than the inner. I’ve been walking around like this?? I have all kinds of chin hairs I THOUGHT I’d plucked and gotten rid of. New ones in spots I’ve not seen before.
And let’s not even start on what my physique looks like getting out of the shower (well tub) in that mirror. It’s shocking and it’s scary. I only see it in hotel room bathrooms. At least like that.
I must have skinny mirrors at home. And poor lighting.
This poem traces a journey from emotional dependence to self-realization. Through vivid natural imagery and reflective tone, it expresses how solitude can become a place of growth, where inner light replaces the need for external validation.
My Golden Age Within
I built my walls of fragile glass, To watch for someone else to pass. I thought my home was cold and gray, Unless a guest came by to stay.
I thought my joy was only lent, Depending on the time they spent. But in the silence, something grew— A secret flower, bright and new.
I do not need the outside light To tell me that my soul is bright. I’ve traded “waiting” for the sun, For a life that has just begun.
I am the land, I am the sea, The only one who sets me free. The stage is mine, the song is clear; I have no room for doubt or fear.
My golden age is not a dream, Or waiting for a distant gleam. It’s finding peace within my core, Walking through my own front door.
I have no clue what challenges the next six months hold. If I had known what the last six would be like, I wouldn’t be where I am now .
I can’t even predict what this evening will bring.
But this morning – I saw the sky bathed in orange. The sun streamed across a clear blue sky, peeping between buildings and through trees. It was soft, as if whispering: welcome this day with grace and an open heart.
Live. Embrace today. Witness the present – don’t let it pass you by.
Though your body is weary and your mind occupied, this moment – this now – is yours. Open your heart. Let your soul breathe.
Don’t let time steal your joy or circumstances disturb your contentment.
Hello dear friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood too.
What Were Your Parents Doing at Your Age? Rewriting the Timeline of Success Across Generations
At first glance, the question seems simple: What were your parents doing at your age? Yet the moment we pause to answer it, the prompt opens a door to reflection far deeper than nostalgia.
It invites us to compare timelines, measure expectations, and reconsider what progress and success really mean in different eras.
For many of our parents, adulthood followed a clearer script than it does today. By their mid-twenties or early thirties, a large number had completed their education, secured stable employment, married, and begun raising families.
Job loyalty was rewarded
Careers were often linear—one company, one profession, decades of steady service. Loyalty was rewarded with pensions, job security, and a visible ladder of advancement.
The concept of “finding yourself” after thirty was uncommon; responsibility and survival usually took priority over self-exploration.
Their lives were also shaped by forms of scarcity that many of us have never experienced firsthand. Some grew up in the shadow of war or economic hardship.
Others faced limited access to higher education or lived in tightly knit communities where expectations were fixed, and deviation was discouraged.
Dreams certainly existed, but they were often filtered through practicality. Passion was considered a luxury; stability was the goal.
Career paths were moving in straight lines
Today, many of us find ourselves in a very different landscape. At the same age our parents were settling down, we may still be figuring things out.
Career paths zigzag instead of moving in straight lines. It’s common to change jobs, industries, or even countries several times.
Education no longer ends neatly in our early twenties; people return to school later in life as markets evolve and interests shift.
Marriage and parenthood—once early milestones—are frequently postponed or intentionally declined.
This shift doesn’t signal failure or delay; it reflects a fundamentally transformed world. Economies have moved from industrial to digital.
Automation, globalization, and rapid technological change reward adaptability more than long-term loyalty.
Housing costs have risen, job security has weakened, and the cost of living has outpaced wages in many regions.
Milestones that once seemed straightforward now require careful planning, financial resilience, and often a measure of luck.
There is also a psychological evolution between generations.
Many of our parents were defined largely by what they did—their job title, their role, their responsibilities.
Today, we are encouraged to define ourselves by who we are: our values, passions, emotional well-being, and sense of purpose.
Therapy, self-care, and mental health awareness—concepts once dismissed or stigmatized—now play a central role in how we approach adulthood.
We ask deeper questions, sometimes to the point of overthinking, about fulfillment and meaning.
Still, comparisons can feel uncomfortable.
Looking at where our parents stood at our age may stir anxiety, as if we are behind in a race we never agreed to run.
But the purpose of this reflection is not judgment; it is context. Our parents ran on a different track, with different rules, obstacles, and rewards.
Recognizing this can deepen our appreciation for them. Many carried immense responsibility at a young age with limited support systems.
They built stability from uncertainty and made sacrifices that shaped the opportunities we now have.
Even if they rarely spoke about burnout or deferred dreams, those silent struggles became the foundation for our possibilities.
Different Clocks, Different Chapters
The real power of this question lies not in comparison, but in understanding.
When we acknowledge how dramatically the world has changed, we grant ourselves permission to grow at our own pace—and we gain compassion for the paths our parents walked.
Their timeline was not better or worse than ours; it was simply shaped by a different moment in history.
So if your life looks nothing like your parents’ did at your age, take comfort in that truth. You are not late. You are living according to the rhythm of your time.
And someday, when another generation asks what you were doing at their age, your story—just like theirs—will make perfect sense in the context of the world that shaped it.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Fourth sister, nephews, and brother-in-law going home
The rain was so early last Sunday; thus, the family was indoors. Church time was early too since there was a seminary who visited us. After the church service, my fifth sister, youngest sister, youngest nephew, and brother-in-law arrived.
We were preparing food for lunch. I cooked the “adobo chicken” and grilled fish, while my brother-in-law cooked the “nilat-ang pork with taro.” My fifth sister brought us an assorted bread too, an additional food on the table, so there was plenty of meaningful talk and coffee sipping.
Coffee and talking timeLunch
The conversation led to different topics depending on where our minds reached, and in moments like this, I tried to be present with them. Thus, I was behind on reading blogs.
We ate lunch after everything was ready, then went back to talking again since it was raining.
And the kids were playing in the bedroom, sliding in the foam they slant. So much laughter and noise from them, but also crying later on, showing that life has imperfections. It’s a combination of happy and sad moments. We were disciplining one of the kids since we see a slightly greedy attitude that we’re against. It gets back to normal shortly.
See the slide
Around sunset, I was so full from eating bread, salad, rice, and viands, so I encouraged my youngest sister to walk with me shortly in the neighborhood. I saw some cuties; hence, Hazel was filming again.
I stayed in the store after the walk, lying on the carton mat my sister organized. Then, Kuya started his karaoke, and my sister joined with him. I was just lazily replying to the comments while enjoying listening to their songs they sang.
Karaoke: Kuya and second eldest sister
It feels like the rain became a blessing that made us gather indoors and just spend time together talking for hours. It was wonderful.
Thank you so much, my amazing readers. Know that I appreciate you all. Stay amazing!
I have so many regrets from my teenage years. Some things I didn’t do enough of and others, too much.
I was of the mindset that people had to “take me as I am” and that, in terms of how I looked especially, there was no room for improvement. Why I bring that up is because honestly, what I wanted more than anything as a teenage girl, was a boyfriend.
I had one boyfriend for six months in grade 11 and after I dumped him, I never had another. Now lets be real. Looks matter. Especially in high school. I mean sure, there are going to be those few people who will want you for who you are but the rest want the girls in the cute clothes, not the grunge clothes. The girl with curves, not the skinny no curves girl.
I refused to conform to “pretty girl” rules and tried to carve my own path, all the while secretly dying to be noticed.
Some could argue that what I missed out on just wasn’t meant to be and that people truly do need to like you for what’s inside. But part of me always wonders what would have been if I had put some makeup on, dressed more feminine and did something with my hair.
I know it sounds completely superficial but I am pretty sure I would have been less lonely. These are teenagers we’re talking about here. Their brains are not fully formed.
And it’s not just male attention that I missed out on, it was feeling like I was a part of a group, like I fit in. Socializing with other kids on weekends instead of hanging out with my parents or sisters or Gramma.
Now that I’ve said all that I’m thinking to myself, would I actually want to dress in a way that wasn’t true to me, just to be more popular? I don’t know. I’ll never know.
This is getting stale. There’s only so much advice one can give and receive. That door is closed. Why look at the past? At this stage of life, I’d rather hope I can share a little of my lived experience with my children than think up advice for a past I can never get back.
What advice do I give my children?
The gap between generations is getting wider. I may not like it and live in denial, but the life our kids are growing up in today is something we couldn’t have imagined during our childhood. Not only is life speeding up, children are growing faster. We are witnessing the loss of innocence, and it is gut-wrenching.
Biologically, they’re reaching puberty much earlier. This is terrifying. Mentally and emotionally, they are still children who want cuddles and sleep in their parents’ lap – but physically their bodies are changing and they are not ready for it.
What advice is even sufficient in a world that is changing faster than we can process?
We can’t tell them not to use technology. They were born into it. Many are exposed to it from the womb itself. This is their world.
Life is more about failing. There will be more brickbats than bouquets, more setbacks than victories – yet you continue to show up, especially when you are down and hurting. You will fall and stumble more than you walk upright, and still you keep moving.
Failure is not wrong. Falling is not shameful. It should not be denied but embraced. Sometimes it is only at rock bottom that we learn who we are. Growth rarely comes from comfort.
You will hurt and be hurt. You will disappoint and be disappointed. Life will not always be black and white.
You will want to escape more often than you admit. Take those escapes – but do not live in them forever.
There will also be a time when you may have to let go of certain dreams and pursuits. That is not failure. It is understanding that priorities change. That seasons shift. That some things must be laid down so better things can take root. Letting go is not always quitting. Sometimes it is choosing what matters more.
Should I dash their hopes further and tell them that life can be unkind, cruel, unfair? They are already exposed to that in minuscule ways – within family, school, friendships, and their small interactions with the world.
And they will see more. The vast imbalance of power, justice and wealth. They will realise that being good, kind and just does not always pay. That fairness is not guaranteed. That effort is not always rewarded. I cannot sugarcoat reality.
Adulthood is not what it’s made up to be. It is work. Responsibilities. Managing emotions – and not just your own. Building genuine relationships, not networking. It is selfless living. Unlearning. Making horrendous mistakes and taking accountability instead of running away. Acknowledging conflict and resolving it. Extending grace. Being merciful. Constant evolution. Admitting weaknesses and daring to change in order to be better.
It is not denying or subduing wounds and scars, but living and thriving in spite of them. It is not letting your past imprison you, but understanding it – and still choosing who you become. Own your story. Don’t let it own you.
Aspiring for wealth and material possessions is not a bad thing. But life is fleeting and death is a certainty. You will die. Your possessions will decay and lose value. And, you cannot take them with you.
There is no fearless and reckless living without consequence.
Life is messy, yes – yet gloriously worth living and spreading that goodness.
Choose wisely. Live well. Pride can only take you so far. Remember to be humble and let integrity be your anchor.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective mood. Today’s writing prompt poses a deceptively simple yet deeply revealing question: What are three objects you couldn’t live without?
At first glance, it may seem like a casual icebreaker, but with a moment’s thought, it becomes a lens into our values, priorities, and the quiet ways objects shape our lives.
The items we choose are rarely just things; they are symbols of comfort, identity, purpose, and connection.
Yes, I find it hard to separate the physical from the deeply personal connections I have with certain things in my life.
So, I’ll take a slightly different approach and share the three pillars that hold up my world: my mobile, my daily writing journal, and most importantly, my wife.
My Mobile: A Window to the Digital World
In today’s digital age, my mobile phone is more than just a device; it’s a window to the world. It connects me to loved ones, keeps me informed, and allows me to explore new interests.
From staying in touch with my children and loved ones to checking the latest news headlines, my mobile is a constant companion.
However, I’m mindful of not letting it become a crutch. I schedule breaks, prioritize face-to-face interactions, and use them primarily for purposeful activities.
Yes, it’s a tool, not a replacement for real-life connections.
My Journal: A Space for Reflection and Connection
My daily writing journal is a sacred space for me. It’s where I pour my thoughts, feelings, and experiences onto the page.
Whether it’s a joyful moment, a fleeting thought, or a deep-seated worry, my journal holds it all.
Writing helps me process emotions, gain clarity on situations, and even connect with others.
I sometimes share excerpts with close friends, fostering deeper understanding and strengthening our bond.
Yes, It’s a personal sanctuary, a place where I can be completely honest and vulnerable with myself.
My Wife: My Lifeline, My Partner, My Best Friend
There are no words that can adequately describe the importance of my wife in my life. She’s not just an object, but the very foundation on which my well-being rests. She’s my confidante, my cheerleader, and the rock I lean on during life’s storms.
At this stage of our lives, as senior citizens, our dependence on each other has deepened.
She motivates me to stay active, ensures I eat healthy, and is always there to offer a listening ear and a warm embrace.
Her presence brings a sense of calm and security that I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.
These three pillars – my mobile, my journal, and my wife – are not just things I possess, but integral parts of who I am and how I navigate the world.
They each play a unique role in supporting my physical, mental, and emotional well-being, allowing me to live a fulfilling and meaningful life.
Beyond the Objects
While I’ve focused on these three specific aspects, I acknowledge that life is enriched by countless other things, both tangible and intangible.
Friends who bring laughter and support, nature walks that offer peace and rejuvenation, and the pursuit of hobbies that spark joy – all contribute to the tapestry of a well-lived life.
Ultimately, what matters most are the connections we forge, the experiences we cherish, and the love we share. These are the true treasures that make life worth living, and I am grateful for each and every one of them.
BE HAPPY….BE ACTIVE….BE FOCUSED….BE ALIVE…
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Self-pity bores me. I understand that life throws some curve balls, I’ve been there, but grumbling about it isn’t going to help. Get up and fix it or change it.
Complaining about things out of our control like paying taxes bores me. Or when people grumble about petty issues like potholes in the roads. Just be patient, the potholes will be filled. Be happy and grateful they’ll ever be filled at all.
Romance novels bore me. They’re fake and I cannot appreciate living in a dream world.
Watching certain sports on tv like baseball or curling is super boring. Watching poker on tv is the absolute worst.
To be honest, many of these writing prompts bore me. But I guess each to their own. One person’s idea of something interesting is the next person’s snooze fest. I’m not saying I could do any better, but I’m sure many could.
My grandparents (paternal) wedding photo – Carl & Caroline (Lena) Antichow
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today, a simple yet profound question crossed my mind: Am I rich?
At first glance, the answer seems easy. Society often defines richness through bank balances, luxury possessions, and social status.
But after reflecting deeply, I realized that true wealth is not something you can store in a vault or display on a shelf. It is something you carry within.
I discovered twelve qualities that mark a truly rich person — and surprisingly, none of them require money.
1. A Positive Mental Attitude
A truly rich person views life through a lens of possibility rather than limitation. Positivity does not mean ignoring problems; it means believing in solutions.
Optimism is a form of wealth because it fuels resilience, creativity, and hope even in difficult times.
2. Freedom from Fear
Fear imprisons the mind more than any external barrier.
When you are not constantly worried about failure, judgment, or uncertainty, you gain the courage to explore life fully.
Fearless people are rich in experience because they dare to live.
3. Sound Mental and Physical Health
Health is often overlooked until it is lost. A clear mind and a strong body are priceless assets.
They allow you to enjoy life’s opportunities, pursue your dreams, and appreciate everyday moments. Without health, even the greatest fortunes lose their shine.
4. Harmony in Relationships
Richness is reflected in the love and respect you share with family, friends, and colleagues.
Genuine relationships provide emotional security, encouragement, and joy. A person surrounded by trust and affection is wealthier than someone surrounded only by possessions.
5. A Sense of Purpose
Knowing why you wake up each morning is a rare treasure. Purpose gives direction to effort and meaning to struggle.
People who live with purpose feel fulfilled because they know their life contributes to something larger than themselves.
6. Gratitude
Gratitude transforms what you have into enough. When you appreciate the present instead of chasing endless desires, you experience contentment.
Gratitude is like an inner treasure chest that never empties.
7. The Ability to Give
Generosity is a sign of abundance, not scarcity. Whether giving time, kindness, knowledge, or support, the act of giving enriches both the receiver and the giver.
Those who share freely possess a wealth that multiplies.
8. Self-Discipline
Self-discipline is the silent architect of success. It empowers you to stay committed to your goals, resist distractions, and grow steadily.
This inner strength is more valuable than luck because it puts your future in your own hands.
9. Wisdom Over Mere Knowledge
Knowledge fills the mind; wisdom guides life. Wisdom helps you make thoughtful decisions, understand others, and maintain balance.
It is the kind of wealth that deepens with time and cannot be stolen.
10. Peace of Mind
Inner peace is a rare luxury in a noisy world. When your conscience is clear and your thoughts are calm, you possess a form of richness that money cannot buy. Peace allows you to enjoy every other blessing you have.
11. The Capacity to Adapt
Life is unpredictable. Truly rich individuals adapt to change instead of resisting it. Flexibility keeps you strong in storms and humble in sunshine.
Adaptability ensures that no circumstance can completely defeat you.
12. Joy in Simple Things
Finally, the richest people are those who can smile at a sunrise, laugh with loved ones, or find wonder in small moments.
When simple pleasures bring genuine happiness, you realize you already have more than enough.
So, Am I Rich?
After exploring these twelve qualities, I understood that richness is not a number — it is a state of being. It is measured not by what you own but by how you live, how you love, and how you grow.
Many people spend their lives chasing wealth, only to discover that the treasure they sought was within them all along.
Perhaps the better question is not “Am I rich?” but “How rich is my life?” If your days contain gratitude, purpose, love, health, and peace, then you are already among the wealthiest people on earth.
True riches are invisible, yet they shine brighter than gold.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Boredom? Somewhere in between all that “everything” lie the subtleties.
Work is definitely boring. But not house chores. Those are different. That’s the time I’m alone with my thoughts – just us, no one in between, no interruptions, no snoozing. The bad ideas show up freely then . So does inspiration, if I make space for it.
Any other kind of work feels like an unwelcome but necessary weight we carry – a compulsory bag slung over the shoulder of adulthood. You don’t always like it, but you adjust the strap and keep walking.
Once in a while… people Yes, there are days when diplomacy fails me. That doesn’t mean I don’t love people. But some days can be harrowing – mentally wearisome in ways that are hard to articulate.
I do get bored by those who never look in the mirror, who fail to question themselves yet are ever ready to scrutinize every word you’ve spoken. Conversations that avoid truth go straight into the selective memory box. Diplomacy requires fuel. And some days, the tank is empty.
Apart from that, life seems to run on autopilot. Everything happens, yet nothing is happening.
Anyway… back to the dishes. That’s where the real thinking happens.
I hope this post finds you smiling and ready to reflect a little. Today’s prompt asks us to describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.
And if you pause for a moment, I’m sure at least one chapter of your life quietly raises its hand. Because life, as we all know, is not a straight road. It is a winding journey made up of seasons, each carrying its own colors, fragrances, lessons, and emotions. .
Yes, Life is a journey made up of various phases, each with its own unique charm, challenges, and lessons.
Some phases pass by without leaving a significant mark, while others become an inseparable part of our identity, making it incredibly difficult to say goodbye to them.
The writing prompt for today asks us to reflect on such a phase, one that was hard to say goodbye to..
For me, two particular phases stand out—the innocence of childhood and the moment of retirement. Both were significant, shaping my life in ways I could never have imagined.
The Golden Days of Childhood
Childhood is often considered the most beautiful and carefree phase of life. It is a time of innocence, curiosity, and boundless imagination.
Looking back, I can still feel the warmth of those sunny afternoons spent playing with friends, the excitement of waiting for school vacations, and the joy of listening to bedtime stories from my grandmother.
Life was simple, and the biggest worry was finishing homework on time or getting permission to play a little longer in the evening.
But childhood, no matter how magical, does not last forever. As the years pass, responsibilities take the place of carefree days, and innocence is gradually replaced by experience.
The transition from childhood to adulthood is not sudden; it creeps in silently, often unnoticed. One day, we wake up and realize that we can no longer go back to those days of pure joy and simplicity.
It was a painful realization, one that made me nostalgic for a time when happiness was effortless.
Retirement: A Bittersweet Farewell
If childhood was difficult to say goodbye to because of its innocence, retirement was difficult because it marked the end of an era of productivity and purpose.
After spending decades in a profession, building a career, and forming lasting relationships with colleagues, the day finally came when I had to step away from my work life.
Retirement is often seen as a time of relaxation, a well-earned break after years of hard work.
However, what many do not realize is that it also brings a deep sense of emptiness. The daily routine that once structured my life was suddenly gone.
The interactions with colleagues, the satisfaction of solving problems, and the feeling of being needed—all of it vanished overnight.
At first, I struggled to adjust. I missed the energy of the workplace, the challenges that kept my mind sharp, and even the small conversations over tea breaks.
It felt as if I had lost a part of my identity. But as time passed, I found new ways to fill the void.
Writing, painting, and traveling became my new passions, giving me a renewed sense of purpose.
Retirement was difficult to say goodbye to, but it also opened doors to new beginnings.
Lessons from These Goodbyes
Saying goodbye to childhood and retirement taught me an important lesson—life is a continuous cycle of change.
Every phase, no matter how cherished, must eventually make way for something new. The key to embracing change lies in acceptance and adaptability.
Instead of mourning what is lost, we must celebrate what remains and look forward to what is yet to come.
Goodbyes are never easy, but they are necessary for growth. While I still reminisce about my childhood with a smile and recall my working years with pride,
I also find joy in the present. The beauty of life is that it never stops moving forward, and every ending is simply the beginning of something new.
So, if you ever find yourself struggling to say goodbye to a cherished phase in life, remember that change is the essence of existence. Cherish the memories, learn from the past, and embrace the future with an open heart.
Life is not about holding on; it is about moving forward while keeping the warmth of the past alive in our hearts.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Yesterday morning, my second eldest sister asked our neighbor to get young coconut for her to make “buko salad,” and she was helped by the worker and her kids.
Around one pm, my fourth sister, nephews, and brother-in-law arrived. The family warmly welcomed them and hugged and talked to my recovering nephew. He talks and moves so healthily, and thank God!
Moments later, I built up the tent in front of the house, and they were excited. My niece quickly went home and brought blankets, pillows, and a mat.
Since the kids were busy somewhere, I got inside the tent and browsed there a bit, but do you know why I giggled? My mama was glancing at my third eldest sister’s phone because she tried to watch a girl on Facebook whose content is peeing . And I said, That’s what I dislike about social media.
We laugh
Then, I thought that the kids were already satisfied with the setup, but they still wanted to go to the river. The plan was just to walk and roam. My nephews followed the rules, but my niece? She swam together with my little neighbor. It’s obvious that there’s no military discipline in the house compared to what my nephews grew up with with their father. Upbringing really matters.
I said, “You must bathe and fix yourself at home since you disobeyed,” and thankfully, she listened and obeyed what I said. They are still planning to swim there this morning.
Before it gets dark, they do a campfire, and I supposedly sleep in the tent, but they are still playing inside past 8; hence, I went home and lay in bed.
My fifth sister and our youngest sent us wishes to just enjoy our Saturday since they’re still going night swimming with my sister-in-law. They will be here today to spend the Sunday with us.
Photo credit: brother-in-law
It’s going to be a beautiful day for me. It’s raining now while I write this at five in the morning. I’ll catch up with you soon, my amazing readers.
Thank you so much, and happy Sunday. Stay glorious!
This poem reflects on life as a personal examination where every individual receives unique challenges. It encourages self-trust, patience, and authenticity, reminding readers that true success comes not from imitation but from embracing one’s own path.
# Life’s True Exam #
Life is the hardest test, I feel, With questions no one else can see. We search for guides along the way, Yet none can solve our mystery.
We glance around at others’ sheets, And fear our page is not the same, But every soul its own path meets, Its own true loss, its own true gain.
The smart one may write with speed, And the quiet one may pause and cry, Yet both are learning what they need, Though different stars light up their sky.
Friends, life’s exam is not unfair, It’s shaped by trials and what hearts dream. No copied lines can take us there, No borrowed light can make dawn beam.
So write your answers, slow or fast, In ink of hope, without fear or blame, The ones who pass are those at last Who play their own, not others’ game.
So boring but my favourite drink is actually water. And not bottled water. I mean it will do in a pinch but it sometimes gives me heartburn. Our tap water is the best water I’ve ever tasted. Not sure if it’s because we exist in such a cold climate or what but I’m telling you our water is delicious.
In winter it even comes out of the tap ice cold. How lucky are we.
I grew up on well water and now whenever I go back and drink it, I realize it’s got some kind of flavour and I’m not a fan.
Besides tap water, when I’m feeling wild I like carbonated water. San Pellegrino is just perfect or sometimes flavoured Bubly.
If we’re talking alcohol, which I rarely, if ever, drink these days, then I love a crantini. Vodka, cranberry juice, shaken over ice. Delicious.
Of course I’m not going to leave coffee sitting on the sidelines. It’s the start to my day, after a few gulps of water. Can’t live without coffee.
However, when I’m parched, I prefer water. Nothing quenches thirst better than water.
That said, I enjoy coconut water – a lot. If only it were as affordable as it once was. I remember when the natural kind, straight from the tree and not the packaged version, used to cost ₹5. Now it’s ₹60 and more. How times have changed, and with them, the value of ₹5.
This prompt dredges up memories. When I was young, I’d ask Dad to bring back coconut water whenever he visited a neighboring city. It felt special then – something requested, carried home, and shared.
Years later, when I was carrying my second child and could barely stomach anything, coconut water sustained me. It was one of the few things my body would accept. It’s no surprise that little girl enjoys it just as much. Some tastes are inherited quietly.
Now that I’ve grown older and allegedly wiser, I listen to my inner voice. They say too much caffeine isn’t good for you. But the wise learn to listen closely. Mine doesn’t whisper – it demands coffee .
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and inspired mood. Today’s writing prompt caught my attention: “What bores you?”
In our fast-paced and chaotic world, boredom can sneak in quietly, leaving us restless and searching for ways to escape it.
Boredom is a fascinating part of the human experience. It creeps in unnoticed, dulling our enthusiasm and making even the simplest tasks feel heavy and tiresome.
But have you ever paused to think about what truly bores you? Is it the monotony of routine, the lack of challenge, or the absence of meaningful connection?
Let’s explore the essence of boredom and uncover what really makes our minds drift into disinterest.
The Monotony of Routine
For many, predictability is the greatest culprit of boredom. When every day follows an identical pattern—waking up, eating, working, sleeping—it becomes a cycle devoid of excitement.
This is especially true for people who love adventure and spontaneity. Living with a strict schedule can feel repetitive.
It may seem like the same day is repeating over and over. This can take away creativity and passion.
Conversations That Lack Depth
Small talk can be socially necessary, but when conversations lack depth and meaning, they can quickly become tedious.
Discussing the weather or exchanging pleasantries without genuine engagement often leads to mental fatigue.
In contrast, engaging conversations filled with curiosity, humor, and emotion have the power to stave off boredom. Meaningful dialogues stimulate the mind and foster a sense of connection.
The Absence of Creativity
As a writer, artist, and storyteller, I find that creativity fuels my soul. Engaging in painting, poetry, or storytelling makes time fly.
However, situations that stifle creativity—such as repetitive tasks, excessive bureaucracy, or rigid rules—can be incredibly draining.
When there’s no room for imagination, boredom settles in, making even a few minutes feel like an eternity.
Watching Uninspiring Content
With the rise of digital entertainment, one would assume that boredom has been eradicated.
However, watching uninspiring movies, reading unengaging books, or scrolling mindlessly through social media can feel more like a chore than enjoyment.
Content that lacks originality or depth does little to hold our attention and often leaves us feeling unfulfilled.
Waiting—The Ultimate Bore
Few things test our patience like waiting. Whether it’s waiting in line at the bank, being stuck in traffic, or sitting through a long commercial break, these moments drag on endlessly.
The mind craves engagement, and when it’s forced into inactivity, boredom takes over. Many people turn to their phones to fill these gaps, yet even that can become repetitive.
Tasks Without Purpose
Engaging in work that lacks meaning can be one of the most exhausting experiences.
Whether it’s filling out unnecessary paperwork, sitting through long, unproductive meetings, or doing something that doesn’t align with our passion, such activities drain enthusiasm.
In my case, I combat boredom by working on my dreams—playing the mouth organ, drawing, writing blogs, and trying new experiences.
Doing things I have never done before or stepping outside my comfort zone keeps me engaged.
When you dare to dream big, you need the courage to take steps toward your goals. This is what makes me feel alive and inspired.
When we don’t see value in what we’re doing, our motivation dwindles, and boredom quickly follows.
The Cure for Boredom
While boredom is inevitable, it can be conquered. Here are some effective ways to counter it:
Seek New Challenges: If the routine is making life dull, shake things up. Learn a new skill, explore a hobby, or take a spontaneous trip.
Engage in Meaningful Conversations: Surround yourself with people who challenge and inspire you.
Embrace Creativity: Whether it’s painting, writing, or playing an instrument, creative expression can eliminate boredom.
Be Present: Instead of mindlessly scrolling, engage fully in the moment. Observe your surroundings and find joy in the little things.
Find Purpose: If a task seems meaningless, try to connect it with a greater goal. Purpose fuels enthusiasm and eliminates boredom.
Bye-Bye to Boredom
Boredom is not necessarily a negative emotion; rather, it’s a signal that something needs to change. It urges us to seek new experiences, challenge ourselves, and find meaning in what we do.
Instead of fearing boredom, we should use it as a catalyst for growth. The next time you find yourself bored, ask: What is this moment trying to tell me?
You may discover that boredom is not an enemy but a guide leading you toward a more fulfilling life.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Just now I spent some time reading all of the various responses to this prompt, even writers whose blogs I’m not subscribed to. The varying answers are interesting and my favourite reply to “who are your favourite people to be around?” was “yeah”.
Generally, most people stated the obvious; their family, their friends and in some cases specifically siblings.
I get the sibling thing. I’ve seen that quote floating around many of times that says something to the effect that your siblings are the people who know you from birth (or vice versa depending on who is older), they are the ones who will usually out-live the relationship with most people in your family, specifically your own parents.
I enjoy time with my sisters, I do, but I wouldn’t say they are my favourite people to be around. Sure, we have a lot of history, we grew up together, conquered many firsts together. But I don’t know if they really get me. I am very different from them and although I don’t consider myself a black sheep, if I were to name one, then yeah, it’s me.
My kids on the other hand, have the kind of sibling relationship I don’t. They are very close, they know each other inside and out. They can be uber real with each other, and trust me, they are. They compliment and complement each other, yet if one needs to be taken down a notch (usually Taz lol), the others aren’t afraid to do so.
I know they’ll always have each other’s backs. And the three older ones would do anything for Sid. I’m completely confident that when he gets older, Sid will fit right tight into their meshwork of love, support and goofing around.
If anything tells me I’ve done well as a mom, it’s this, my kids’ relationships with each other. It bloody well warms my heart to see them interacting the way they do. All of them home this past week has brought this to light.
Also, now that Cordelia has baby RR, Aunty Bella-Lena and Uncle Taz have really stepped up all week to help out with the baby and support her. Of course Uncle Sid loves the baby too. Bella-Lena asked him last night who his favourite person in the world was and he answered “the baby”.
I love this one of my 3 older kids, taken in 2011ish at The Mall of America
This touching poem expresses the deep sadness of loss and the lasting love of a mother in a once-happy home.
It shows how memories, grief, and love connect, demonstrating that even in silence and absence, the bond between mother and child remains alive through words and remembrance.
# Your Love Still Lives #
In this quiet house I stay, Where laughter used to light each day. The walls once sang in gentle tone, Now silence says I’m here alone.
Three little rooms still hold her grace, I see her warmth in every place. Her hands once chased my fears away, Her voice still guides me when I pray.
The bell still swings beside the door, Its sound not welcoming anymore. The moonlight spills upon the floor, But it can warm my heart no more.
I sit where she would softly speak, And feel her presence when I’m weak. My tears fall down like quiet rain, Then turn to simple words of pain.
Perhaps no eyes will read this part, These lines that heal a grieving heart. Yet in each word her love remains, A gentle light through loss and pains.
And when I write, I feel her near, Her smile still so bright and clear.
I stumbled upon Women Talking last night. It’s one of those rare films that gives you chills and leaves you with more questions than answers.
Initially, I assumed it was fiction. But it is based on Women Talking, a book by Miriam Toews – her imagined response to real events that took place in the Manitoba Colony, a remote Mennonite community in Bolivia. Between 2005 and 2009, over a hundred girls and women woke up to discover they had been raped in their sleep. The attacks were denied and dismissed until it was revealed that men from their own colony had been spraying animal anesthetic into homes to render the women unconscious before violating them (source: Wikipedia).
The film centers around a single setting – a hayloft. A group of women gather after a deadlocked vote to decide whether they should “stay and fight” or “leave” following yet another assault.
The opening is devastating. The women confront the terrible truth of what has been happening in their isolated religious community. We learn that the women are uneducated, yet on that day they learned to vote – using symbols.
As they debate what it means to stay or to leave, one quiet but piercing exchange unfolds: “We have been preyed upon like animals.” “Maybe we are animals.” “No. We are women.”
Hearing this felt like being steamrolled. The words echo long after the scene ends. You feel the anguish, the helplessness, and something inside breaks. It is painfully ironic that they compare themselves to animals, considering an animal tranquilizer was used to incapacitate them before they were violated – like animals, or worse.
The arguments that follow revolve around faith, justice, power, survival.
What does it mean to practice faith in circumstances like this? What does forgiveness mean? Who has the authority to forgive? Does refusing to forgive mean losing one’s salvation? What if the perpetrator is your own family member?
There is a haunting moment when a young girl addresses her brother, unsure whether the baby she lost was his or his friends.
Another powerful phrase emerges: the misuse of forgiveness. A character asks, “Can forgiveness not be something good?” And the answer challenges everything – that sometimes forgiveness can be confused with permission.
How often are we guilty of that? Forgiveness is meant to acknowledge another’s frailty – but it is not consent for continued harm. It is not permission. And it is certainly not submission.
One of the most wrenching scenes is when Salome questions the idea that male religious authority has the power to absolve, judge or define their response: “We do not need to be forgiven by the men of God from the depraved actions of vicious men, who are often the very same men we’re meant to ask for forgiveness. If God is a loving God, then He will forgive us Himself. If God is a vengeful God, then He has created us in His image. If God is omnipotent, then why has He not protected the women and girls from this colony?”
This is not rebellious questioning. This is a wounded mother speaking. Her four-year-old child was violated and contracted a venereal disease.
These are questions many of us carry. If our maternal instinct is to protect and nurture, why is God silent? Where is the protector?
She goes on to declare that she would do anything to protect her child. If killing to protect her daughter is a sin, then she challenges God to strike her dead on the spot – but she will not allow another man to satisfy his violent urges with her child’s body.
This is the gray area I find myself returning to: When faced with life or death, do we defend and risk breaking a commandment – or stand by, witness evil and eventually be killed?
Like these women, many of us have questioned whether the version of God handed down to us is the true one.
The film also examines power held by men – how it is wielded, misused, and rarely bows down. Power crushes and annihilates. And how a few men are victims themselves under these powerful men. But this does not excuse the men who refuse to speak up and defend when they know a wrong is committed.
And yet, as nurturers, the women ask: what happens to the boys and men if we leave? Who can come with us? What is at risk if we bring them? August, the schoolteacher, explains that boys under fifteen can still be guided – still shaped into men of moral strength when raised with love and able direction.
The film is layered. Every question feels like salt on an open wound. It forces you to examine your place, your purpose, your limits, your strengths, your rights.
What are you willing to endure? What are you willing to fight for?
It does not leave space for comfort. It stirs courage – or exposes cowardice. There is no easy middle ground.
And yet, in the midst of it all, they recite Philippians 4:8: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” In a story soaked in brutality, that verse feels almost defiant.
Perhaps thinking on what is true includes naming what is wrong. Perhaps what is noble includes refusing silence and what is right sometimes requires leaving.
As I reflect on the journey of life, there are several pieces of advice I wish I had known during my teenage years.
While it’s impossible to turn back time, I hope that sharing these insights will guide today’s teenagers toward making wise decisions and embracing a fulfilling life.
Smart Use of Social Media:
In the age of technology, social media has become an integral part of our lives. However, it’s crucial to use it wisely. Remember that the online world is a reflection of your real-life persona.
Be mindful of the content you share, engage in positive interactions, and don’t let virtual reality overshadow the beauty of the present moment.
Simple Living, High Thinking:
Life doesn’t demand expensive gadgets or designer clothes. True fulfillment lies in meaningful relationships, personal growth, and contributing to something bigger.
Embrace simplicity, focus on what truly matters, and cultivate a mindset of high thinking. Material possessions may bring temporary joy, but lasting fulfillment comes from meaningful relationships, personal growth, and contributing positively to the world around you.
Cut Your Coat According to Your Cloth:
Being a Banker I learned how to set financial goals and how to achieve that. Yes, Financial responsibility is a skill that will serve you well throughout life. Learn to manage your resources wisely, avoid unnecessary debt, and live within your means.
This doesn’t mean sacrificing your dreams but rather being pragmatic about your choices and prioritizing long-term sustainability over short-term gratification.
Stop Wasting Valuable Time:
Time is a precious commodity that once spent, cannot be recovered. Avoid procrastination and invest your time in activities that align with your goals and values. Whether it’s pursuing hobbies, building skills, or nurturing relationships, make each moment count.
Be Health Conscious Because Health is Wealth:
Your well-being should be a top priority. Adopt a balanced lifestyle that includes regular exercise, a nutritious diet, and sufficient sleep. Building healthy habits now will contribute to a resilient and vibrant future.
Make a Smart Goal. Be Focused and Evaluate
From Time to Time: Set clear, achievable goals for yourself. Whether they are academic, personal, or professional, having a roadmap will keep you focused and motivated.
Regularly evaluate your progress, adjust your strategies if needed, and celebrate the small victories along the way.
Variety in Wardrobe:
While it’s important not to judge others based on appearances, taking care of your personal presentation can boost your confidence.
Experiment with different styles, express yourself through fashion and remember that feeling good about yourself on the outside can positively impact your inner self-esteem.
Focus on Studies:
Education is a powerful tool that opens doors to countless opportunities. Stay focused on your studies.
And don’t let external distractions deter you from your academic goals. Your future self will thank you for the foundation you lay today.
Friendships Matter:
True friendships are invaluable. Cherish the bonds you form with those who support and uplift you. The friends you make in the remedial math class may become lifelong companions.
Nurture these relationships, as they will be a source of strength and joy throughout your journey.
Embrace Confidence and Self-acceptance:
Confidence is attractive, and self-acceptance is liberating. Embrace your uniqueness, be proud of who you are, and recognize that your worth extends far beyond societal expectations.
Life is too short to be overly critical of yourself; focus on your strengths and be kind to the person you see in the mirror.
Dear teenage self, life is an intricate tapestry woven with experiences, choices, and relationships. By embracing these pieces of advice, I hope you can navigate the tumultuous teenage years with wisdom and resilience.
Remember, the journey is just as important as the destination, so savor every moment and build a future that reflects the best version of yourself.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I probably can’t honestly answer questions about my parents or siblings in case they read my blog, which I’ve asked them not to, but you never know.
What I will say is that I parent and run my household very differently than the house I grew up in. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my childhood and I love my parents. There were no deficiencies, no trauma, only love.
But.
I allow my kids to be way less than perfect, in fact I encourage it and I let them know to err is human. It’s totally cool. If you need to let an f bomb fly, have at it, as long as you are in an appropriate place to do so.
My bed is not off limits. My kids all climb in there to watch tv or just relax, at various times. Sid is five and we’re still co-sleeping with him and honestly I don’t want it to end.
My purse is not off limits. If you need something from it, go ahead and dig in it. No laws will be broken if you go into my purse.
I’m far from perfect but I try to keep comparing and criticizing off the table. Nothing is gained by this.
I forever want my adult kids to feel like home is a place they can stop by and stay, as long as they need, without making arrangements ahead of time or needing the okay from me.
It’s actually very interesting to me to read this back to myself, how far I deviated from the way I was raised. Who’s to say which is right and which is wrong. We’re all just doing our best.
Okay so this is where we’re at with my hair, (well the greys in my hair), the stylist put the tiniest hilights which are a caramel colour and the rest a dark brown, still dark but not black…next time we’ll go even lighter
Positive thinking is more than a feel-good slogan or a motivational quote pinned to a wall.
It is a mindset—a deliberate way of approaching life that shapes how we respond to challenges, relationships, and even ourselves.
When practiced consistently, positive thinking doesn’t just make life happier; it makes it healthier, more resilient, and deeply meaningful.
At its core, positive thinking is not about ignoring problems or pretending everything is perfect.
Life is messy, unpredictable, and sometimes painfully hard. Positive thinking is about choosing a constructive perspective even when things go wrong.
It’s the belief that setbacks are temporary, that growth is possible, and that effort matters. This simple shift in mindset can quietly transform the quality of our lives.
The Power of Perspective
Every situation has multiple interpretations. Two people can face the same challenge and walk away with entirely different experiences.
One may see failure; the other sees feedback. Positive thinking trains the mind to look for opportunity, learning, or hope—even in difficulty.
This perspective doesn’t change reality, but it changes how reality affects us.
When we focus on what we can control rather than what we can’t, we feel less overwhelmed.
A positive mindset helps us replace questions like “Why is this happening to me?” with “What can I learn from this?” That single change can reduce stress and increase emotional strength.
Mental and Emotional Benefits
Positive thinking has a direct impact on mental health. Studies consistently show that optimistic individuals experience lower levels of stress, anxiety, and depression.
When the mind is trained to expect better outcomes, it becomes less reactive to fear and negativity.
Emotionally, positive thinkers tend to recover faster from disappointment. They don’t dwell endlessly on mistakes or regrets. Instead, they acknowledge emotions, accept them, and move forward.
This emotional flexibility builds resilience—the ability to bounce back stronger after adversity.
Positive thinking also nurtures self-confidence. When you believe in your ability to handle challenges, you’re more likely to take healthy risks, pursue goals, and step outside your comfort zone.
Physical Health and Positive Thinking
The mind and body are deeply connected. Chronic negative thinking triggers stress responses in the body, releasing hormones that can weaken immunity, raise blood pressure, and disrupt sleep. Over time, this takes a toll on physical health.
Positive thinking, on the other hand, supports better well-being. Optimistic individuals are more likely to engage in healthy behaviors such as exercising, eating well, and maintaining regular routines.
They often experience improved energy levels, better sleep, and even faster recovery from illness.
A positive outlook doesn’t cure diseases, but it creates an internal environment that supports healing.
Relationships and Social Life
Our mindset influences how we interact with others. Positive thinkers are generally more approachable, empathetic, and supportive.
They listen better, communicate more openly, and handle conflict with maturity. This naturally strengthens personal and professional relationships.
When you approach people with optimism and understanding, you create emotional safety. Others feel seen and valued, which deepens trust and connection.
Positive thinking also helps us forgive more easily—letting go of grudges that drain emotional energy and damage relationships.
Cultivating Positive Thinking
Positive thinking is a skill, not a personality trait. It can be learned and strengthened with practice. One powerful habit is gratitude.
Taking time each day to notice what’s going well—even small things—trains the brain to focus on abundance rather than lack.
Another practice is mindful self-talk. Pay attention to the way you speak to yourself. Replace harsh inner criticism with encouragement and realism.
Instead of saying, “I can’t do this,” try, “This is hard, but I’m learning.”
Surrounding yourself with positive influences also matters. The people you spend time with, the content you consume, and the conversations you engage in all shape your mindset. Choose environments that uplift and inspire you.
Positive Thinking in Daily Life
Positive thinking doesn’t mean every day will feel amazing. Some days will still be heavy.
The difference is that with a positive mindset, you trust that difficult moments will pass and that you have the strength to handle them.
Over time, positive thinking becomes a quiet inner ally—guiding decisions, softening disappointments, and amplifying joy. It helps you live with intention rather than reaction.
My Final Submission
A better life doesn’t come from perfect circumstances; it comes from a healthier way of thinking.
Positive thinking empowers you to face reality with courage, hope, and clarity.
It strengthens your mind, supports your body, enriches your relationships, and opens the door to personal growth.
By choosing positive thinking—one thought at a time—you don’t just improve your outlook on life. You improve the life you’re living.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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My mind is tired today. Blame it all on the imaginary imagination . Even the writing prompt gave up on me. You can’t ask a woman her favorite shoes. That’s like asking who her favorite child is. We don’t choose – we rotate loyalties.
On the topic of children, little girl is too clever for her own good.
I’ve been telling her she cannot play the Roblox game anymore, since many have been raising concerns about it. A few of her friends have been disallowed from playing. When I voice my concerns, she calmly replies, “Oh, that’s why the chat is disabled.”
She knows how and when to outsmart us. Then she adds, how is she supposed to play with her brother and bond with him? . That is strategic and emotional.
When it comes to studying, she jovially replies she’ll study next year. She has long term vision .
She doesn’t play as much as she watches videos of people commenting on games. I do not understand the fascination. But she did suggest that if we ever make a podcast together, we should call it The Author and the Otter – her play on “author.” I’m not sure whether to be impressed or concerned.
She’s growing into her own person. I see it in how she relates to her friends and in what she considers valuable. She mouths my words right back at me. When I ask how she fared in her exams, she’ll say she couldn’t attempt everything but she tried, or not everything has to be perfect.
At present, she’s fascinated by age. She frequently asks how old we are, compares ages with her friends, and has concluded that being born in the 50s or 60s means the 1750s. I’m not entirely sure where that idea came from, but apparently I belong to another century.
Boredom is a constant struggle. And when she’s bored, she can be highly annoying. Intensely creative, but annoying. Yet she’s also observant. Recently, she noticed people littering a dug-up road and remarked that people have no respect for the environment.
She’s learning to admit her flaws and laugh at herself. When she’s in a good mood, she’ll readily agree that she can be grumpy and a complainer .
She is a sweet handful, and we are often at loggerheads. You’d think I’d have more sense than to argue with her. But she didn’t get her debating skills from thin air .
If she is learning to question, to observe, to reason – then I don’t mind losing a few debates.
My sweet handful’s art
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and adventurous spirit.
Today’s writing prompt—“Describe the most ambitious DIY project you have ever taken on”—sparked a wave of reflection within me.
It reminded me of a challenge I took on after retirement, a time when many people slow down, but I chose to embark on something bold and meaningful.
I have always believed in living life hands-on, finding deep joy in creating something new, and in embracing the thrill of ambitious endeavors.
There is a rare satisfaction in turning ideas into reality—an experience that fuels curiosity, strengthens determination, and fills each day with purpose.
Of all the projects I have undertaken, one stands far above the rest, not only because of its scale, but because of the powerful lessons it taught me about discipline, direction, and the extraordinary strength that persistence can awaken within us.
The Genesis of a Dream: A Daily Blogging Marathon
Five years ago, I embarked on what I considered my most ambitious DIY project yet: writing and sharing a blog post every single day for 2000 days.
It wasn’t just a writing challenge; it was a commitment to growth, positivity, and connection. The idea was simple, but its impact has been transformative.
A Daily Kickstart to Positivity
Each morning began with a promise to myself—to write with sincerity and enthusiasm.
This ritual became more than a task; it became a source of energy. The act of putting thoughts into words set a hopeful tone for the day, reminding me that every sunrise carried a fresh opportunity to create something meaningful.
Strengthening Mind and Body
Creative work demands more than imagination. It requires mental clarity, emotional balance, and physical well-being.
To keep up with the daily challenge, I had to nurture both mind and body.
Writing became a motivator to stay disciplined in other areas of life, reinforcing the idea that creativity thrives when we care for ourselves holistically.
Staying Connected Through Words
What began as a personal project soon became a bridge connecting me with friends and readers.
Through daily posts, I shared reflections, encouragement, and insights—especially for those navigating life’s later years.
Writing allowed me to offer companionship through words, proving that even digital interactions can foster genuine warmth and understanding.
Discovering Purpose in Routine
Having a clear daily goal gave my life a renewed sense of direction. Each article required reading, reflection, and thoughtful preparation.
This steady rhythm transformed ordinary days into purposeful ones. Instead of drifting through time, I woke each morning with intention and curiosity.
Sharing Life’s Lessons
The blog became a platform for expressing personal experiences and reflections.
Writing honestly about life’s joys and struggles allowed me to transform private insights into shared wisdom.
Knowing that my words might encourage or comfort someone else added a deeper sense of fulfillment to the process.
A Transformational Journey
Before this project, my professional life revolved around banking and financial subjects.
This writing marathon opened the door to a different world—the world of literature, ideas, and creative exploration.
The transition was exhilarating, reminding me that it is never too late to rediscover passions or redefine oneself.
The Power of Consistency
Perhaps the most remarkable achievement has been consistency. Having completed more than a thousand consecutive days of writing,
I now stand within reach of my 2000-day milestone. This steady progress has shown me that persistence, more than talent or inspiration, is the true engine of accomplishment.
Lessons Learned Along the Way
Discipline Fuels Creativity: Contrary to popular belief, creativity does not flourish only in moments of inspiration. It grows strongest within structure. Showing up daily trained my mind to find ideas even when motivation was low.
Resilience Lives in Routine: Writing every day taught me that routine is not monotonous—it is fertile ground for fresh perspectives. Each day offers something new to notice, reflect upon, and share.
Connection Creates Community: The encouragement from readers and friends became a powerful motivator. Their responses reminded me that shared experiences can build meaningful bonds, even across distances.
Purpose Transforms Living: This project gave me a reason to begin each day with enthusiasm.
Purpose, I learned, is not something we wait for; it is something we build through consistent action.
Persistence Brings Joy: The happiness that comes from steady progress surpasses the thrill of starting something new.
Achieving milestones through patience and dedication brings a deeper, more lasting satisfaction.
2000- Days and Beyond
As I approach the final stretch of this journey, I see it as more than a challenge completed. It is proof that dreams, when paired with commitment, can reshape our lives.
This project has shown me that ordinary days can become extraordinary when guided by intention, curiosity, and perseverance.
In truth, this DIY endeavor was never just about writing. It was about growth, self-discovery, and the realization that within each of us lies an immense capacity to create, connect, and inspire.
The unwritten days ahead still hold lessons waiting to unfold, and that anticipation keeps my spirit eager and grateful.
The journey continues—and with every word written, another layer of possibility reveals itself.
As much as I want to believe love is not transactional, I cannot escape this unsettling reality. It keeps returning until I’m forced to acknowledge it. Love being conditional is widely accepted – but accepting that love is transactional feels like admitting how far we have fallen from our values.
Which leads me to an unsettling question: if love is transactional, do we begin to see each other as assets and liabilities? In the corporate world, a person is either an asset or a liability. But does this thinking extend into relationships – familial, platonic, romantic?
Taking family dynamics as an example – do children see parents as an asset or a liability? I think of inheritance here. As parents age, they become more dependent on their children, yet we constantly hear stories of parents being abandoned, whether finances are involved or not.
Then there are parents who openly declare that their children will not receive any part of their wealth – that they must earn everything on their own. I understand the desire to prevent entitlement and teach independence. Yet it raises another question for me: if one spends a lifetime accumulating wealth but does not intend it for their children, what was the purpose of that pursuit? We cannot take it with us when we leave. If not meant for those closest to us, then for whom is it ultimately gathered?
The point I’m trying to make is this – do children feel responsible for their parents only when they stand to gain something? If there is no gain, do they absolve themselves of responsibility? This is where the asset–liability analogy comes in. The parent becomes an asset when inheritance is expected, and a liability when nothing is anticipated.
Entitlement is another issue. Where did it originate? Why do children assume what belongs to parents automatically becomes theirs – unless it has been expressed? This mindset, beyond inheritance and into everyday expectations, has created problems we rarely confront. Because we ignored correcting it, entitlement has slowly permeated our lives.
To return to responsibility in relationships – what must parents do for children to care for them? And what must children do to take that responsibility upon themselves without being asked, expecting nothing in return? In theory, families with multiple siblings share responsibility, easing the strain on everyone involved. In practice, one sibling often assumes a greater share, while the rest step back. When there is genuine affection, care never feels like a burden.
Unfortunately, as the world changes, parents increasingly appear to become liabilities unless they have something to offer – then they become assets. This sounds harsh and uncomfortably pragmatic, but it is visible around us. As families become more nuclear and individualistic, fewer people want to share responsibility. More disappointing still is when parents are considered a burden. Isn’t this love both conditional and transactional?
What happened to love that acts simply because it loves – without calculation? Where need exists, one moves toward it, not away from it, and not with excuses.
What continues to speak to me is this: when we serve only out of duty, we rarely feel content. We look for validation, recognition, someone to notice. But when we act out of affection and humility, recognition never even enters the mind. We serve because we want to, not because we have to.
Top 1%? That’s pretty difficult to imagine. Would this be something I’m really really good at or something I’m really really bad at?
I find it difficult to objectively look at myself and find something that good. And what if it doesn’t exist? I’ve always considered myself average.
But I suppose if I had to, if I had to point out things or areas that are different from a lot of other people my age, in my demographic, I would name a couple. They aren’t necessarily good things.
One is that I don’t get grossed out easily, hence the reason I became a nurse. As compared to my sisters I could handle anything yucky. Dead animal carcasses. Vomit. Sick people. Plucking and gutting chickens.
The other is the way I can manage and shut off feelings when I want to. Not that I do this very much anymore. I don’t think it’s healthy. But I can do it if I want or need to.
” Life Is Not a Finished Product — It Is a Story Still Becoming “
Hello dear friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and peaceful mood.
Over the past three days, I had the joy of visiting three different locations, each offering its own charm and memories.
But on the fourth day, my destination was not another sightseeing spot—it was something far more meaningful: a beautiful hotel stay for a family gathering celebrating my niece’s 25th wedding anniversary.
Sometimes the most memorable journeys are not about distance, but about moments shared with loved ones.
We stayed at the lovely Acron Waterfront Resort in Baga, where I was welcomed with warm hospitality and a comfortable room overlooking a serene poolside view.
The location itself felt like an invitation to slow down and truly experience the day.
Early in the morning, I sat with a cup of tea, watching the sunrise paint the sky in soft golden hues.
That quiet beginning felt almost sacred—as if the day itself was gently unfolding its blessings.
Sacred Moments of Blessings
The celebration was for Sada Sundram and Rashmi, marking their silver wedding anniversary.
I began the day by wishing them heartfelt congratulations and praying that their lives continue to be filled with health, happiness, and togetherness.
Milestones like these remind us that love is not built solely on grand gestures, but on years of patience, understanding, and shared dreams.
A Morning Wrapped in Serenity
My morning began with simple pleasures. Family members gathered on the hotel lawn, enjoying coffee while exchanging warm conversations and laughter.
The air was fresh, the sunlight gentle, and the atmosphere alive with affection. Before heading for my favorite activity—swimming—I spent some time practicing yoga and meditation near the pool.
That peaceful session grounded my thoughts and refreshed my spirit, preparing me for the joyful celebrations ahead.
Refreshing Start to a Joyful Day
Soon after, I slipped into the cool water of the pool, enjoying the calm rhythm of swimming.
Around me, a few travelers relaxed in the sun, soaking in the warmth of the day. It was a beautiful blend of stillness and liveliness—exactly the balance one hopes to find during a getaway.
Breakfast followed, and then we gathered for traditional family rituals. A sacred puja ceremony was arranged at a decorated mandap, where prayers were offered with devotion.
Receiving blessings together as a family created a sense of unity that words can hardly describe.
In those moments, time seemed to pause, allowing gratitude and reverence to fill the space.
Lunch at the hotel restaurant was delightful and satisfying. The delicious meal, combined with the relaxed mood, made us pleasantly drowsy.
And many of us retreated to our rooms for a short rest. That quiet afternoon pause felt like the calm before a joyful storm.
Evening of Music, Dance & Celebration
And then came the evening—the most electrifying and unforgettable part of the day.
The celebration truly came alive with music, lights, and laughter. A DJ filled the venue with soulful tunes as the anniversary cake was brought forward.
When it was time for the couple to cut the cake, applause and cheers echoed through the hall.
Soon, the dance floor filled with friends and relatives, each person contributing their own energy to the celebration.
Some sang beautiful Hindi songs, others performed heartfelt ghazals, and the entire gathering transformed into a festival of talent and joy.
I too joined the dancing, letting myself be carried away by the rhythm of the music and the happiness around me.
Though local regulations required the music to end by 10 p.m., it felt as if time had passed in the blink of an eye.
We all wished the evening could continue longer. Moments like these remind us how quickly joy flows when hearts are light and spirits are free.
Memories Captured Forever
Before retiring for the night, we enjoyed dinner together and took photographs to preserve the memories.
These snapshots will one day serve as windows back into this beautiful day—a day filled with laughter, celebration, and togetherness.
I must also sincerely appreciate the hotel staff, especially Mr. Anand, whose attentive care and kindness made our stay even more comfortable.
Thoughtful service often turns a pleasant stay into a truly memorable experience.
A Perfect Ending to a Perfect Day
As I reflect on this day, what stands out most is not just the celebration, but the rhythm of it all—the peaceful morning, the mindful afternoon, and the vibrant evening.
It was a perfect reminder that a wonderful day is not measured by how much we do, but by how fully we live each moment.
Life is not a finished product. It is a story still becoming—written in sunrises, laughter, music, prayer, and shared meals.
And some days, like this one, shine brighter than the rest, reminding us just how beautiful the journey can be.
” Life Is Not a Finished Product — It Is a Story Still Becoming “
Hello dear friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and peaceful mood.
Over the past three days, I had the joy of visiting three different locations, each offering its own charm and memories.
But on the fourth day, my destination was not another sightseeing spot—it was something far more meaningful: a beautiful hotel stay for a family gathering celebrating my niece’s 25th wedding anniversary.
Sometimes the most memorable journeys are not about distance, but about moments shared with loved ones.
We stayed at the lovely Acron Waterfront Resort in Baga, where I was welcomed with warm hospitality and a comfortable room overlooking a serene poolside view.
The location itself felt like an invitation to slow down and truly experience the day.
Early in the morning, I sat with a cup of tea, watching the sunrise paint the sky in soft golden hues.
That quiet beginning felt almost sacred—as if the day itself was gently unfolding its blessings.
Sacred Moments of Blessings
The celebration was for Sada Sundram and Rashmi, marking their silver wedding anniversary.
I began the day by wishing them heartfelt congratulations and praying that their lives continue to be filled with health, happiness, and togetherness.
Milestones like these remind us that love is not built solely on grand gestures, but on years of patience, understanding, and shared dreams.
A Morning Wrapped in Serenity
My morning began with simple pleasures. Family members gathered on the hotel lawn, enjoying coffee while exchanging warm conversations and laughter.
The air was fresh, the sunlight gentle, and the atmosphere alive with affection. Before heading for my favorite activity—swimming—I spent some time practicing yoga and meditation near the pool.
That peaceful session grounded my thoughts and refreshed my spirit, preparing me for the joyful celebrations ahead.
Refreshing Start to a Joyful Day
Soon after, I slipped into the cool water of the pool, enjoying the calm rhythm of swimming.
Around me, a few travelers relaxed in the sun, soaking in the warmth of the day. It was a beautiful blend of stillness and liveliness—exactly the balance one hopes to find during a getaway.
Breakfast followed, and then we gathered for traditional family rituals. A sacred puja ceremony was arranged at a decorated mandap, where prayers were offered with devotion.
Receiving blessings together as a family created a sense of unity that words can hardly describe.
In those moments, time seemed to pause, allowing gratitude and reverence to fill the space.
Lunch at the hotel restaurant was delightful and satisfying. The delicious meal, combined with the relaxed mood, made us pleasantly drowsy.
And many of us retreated to our rooms for a short rest. That quiet afternoon pause felt like the calm before a joyful storm.
Evening of Music, Dance & Celebration
And then came the evening—the most electrifying and unforgettable part of the day.
The celebration truly came alive with music, lights, and laughter. A DJ filled the venue with soulful tunes as the anniversary cake was brought forward.
When it was time for the couple to cut the cake, applause and cheers echoed through the hall.
Soon, the dance floor filled with friends and relatives, each person contributing their own energy to the celebration.
Some sang beautiful Hindi songs, others performed heartfelt ghazals, and the entire gathering transformed into a festival of talent and joy.
I too joined the dancing, letting myself be carried away by the rhythm of the music and the happiness around me.
Though local regulations required the music to end by 10 p.m., it felt as if time had passed in the blink of an eye.
We all wished the evening could continue longer. Moments like these remind us how quickly joy flows when hearts are light and spirits are free.
Memories Captured Forever
Before retiring for the night, we enjoyed dinner together and took photographs to preserve the memories.
These snapshots will one day serve as windows back into this beautiful day—a day filled with laughter, celebration, and togetherness.
I must also sincerely appreciate the hotel staff, especially Mr. Anand, whose attentive care and kindness made our stay even more comfortable.
Thoughtful service often turns a pleasant stay into a truly memorable experience.
A Perfect Ending to a Perfect Day
As I reflect on this day, what stands out most is not just the celebration, but the rhythm of it all—the peaceful morning, the mindful afternoon, and the vibrant evening.
It was a perfect reminder that a wonderful day is not measured by how much we do, but by how fully we live each moment.
Life is not a finished product. It is a story still becoming—written in sunrises, laughter, music, prayer, and shared meals.
And some days, like this one, shine brighter than the rest, reminding us just how beautiful the journey can be.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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One of the best gifts I’ve ever received was not material, nor was it given to me by someone else. It was something I gave myself – awareness.
Life is a constant learning journey. As long as we are willing to unlearn and relearn, there will always be something to incorporate into our lives – not necessarily something new, but perhaps something we missed, overlooked, or simply weren’t ready for in a different season.
Today, I’m more aware of the subtleties – not nitpicking, but noticing what is truly valuable. More observant of the intangibles. Hearing, not just listening. More careful with how I hold not only my own feelings, but those of others. More grateful. More gracious, I hope.
I’m learning that unkindness reveals more about who I choose to be than about the person who displays it. Not to excuse the unkindness, but to understand that my response shapes my character.
I wish I could say I’ve gained wisdom. The truth is, I can still be foolish in countless ways.
I always meet this neighbor, a dairy farmer who takes his carabaos in the river to drink. His grandson was with him the other day while I walked there again. He played a wheel, pushing it with his paddle, and I remember my childhood. Part of me is happy that the children in my neighborhood still played what we played in the 90s, and not just pure digital. I took a screenshot of the video I took, and I might post it next time because I already posted one YouTube video today.
His grandson
Yesterday, I glimpsed the sign of the sunset, and I captured it on the rooftop—slightly beautiful. I stayed for a while but stepped down later.
First sign
While browsing, I looked outside, and I hurriedly went out in the road to capture the lovely sunset. And this is so beautiful (for me). I shortly filmed it, just appreciating God’s creation.
This is the finale
It’s cloudy today, but I managed to walk shortly this morning, and the ducks were curiously looking at me. Who can’t smile for that? It’s a little dimmer because it’s before sunrise.
Alright, enjoy your Wednesday, my amazing readers. Stay appreciative of the tiny details around! Thank you so much always.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and uplifted spirit. Today’s writing prompt poses a deeply thoughtful question: What is the biggest challenge you will face in the next six months?
As I reflect on this, I realize that life is a continuous journey of growth, learning, and unexpected turns.
As a senior citizen, I view the road ahead with both wisdom and curiosity, and I recognize that my greatest challenge will be to maintain my mental and physical strength, remain joyful in this golden stage of life, and strike a balance between creativity and consistency.
This challenge is not merely about passing time—it is about living meaningfully, nurturing my artistic and literary passions, and embracing each day with purpose, resilience, and gratitude.
Yes, challenges affect my personal and professional goals, pushing me to evolve while maintaining the momentum of my artistic and literary endeavors.
The Creative Dilemma
As an artist, writer, and blogger, creativity flows through me like an unstoppable current.
However, one of my biggest challenges is keeping my creative spark alive while also managing the demands of discipline.
Writing blogs, crafting stories, and painting vibrant images requires not only inspiration but also a structured approach.
There are days when ideas flow effortlessly, and then there are moments of stagnation—times when the words refuse to come together and the canvas stares back at me blankly, challenging me to make the first stroke.
Over the next six months, my goal will be to overcome these creative droughts and remain productive, regardless of my internal struggles.
Consistency in Writing and Art
I have set ambitious goals for myself—completing 100 paintings, publishing 200 blog posts, and releasing at least two books, which are already in progress.
These are my targets for the coming six months. The challenge lies in ensuring that I do not lose motivation midway. Consistency is key, yet it is also the most elusive aspect of creative work.
To overcome this, I will need to establish a strict schedule while allowing room for flexibility. Discipline will become my closest ally, helping me shape my artistic dreams into tangible realities.
I must remind myself that every great artist, writer, and creator has faced this challenge, and perseverance is what separates success from stagnation.
Managing Health and Energy Levels
Another crucial aspect of this challenge is maintaining my health and energy levels. Writing for long hours and immersing myself in art often leads me to neglect physical well-being.
Sitting for extended periods, skipping meals, and losing track of time are common pitfalls in my daily routine. The next six months will demand conscious efforts to prioritize self-care alongside my creative endeavors.
As a health-conscious individual, I will prioritize my fitness routine. Regular exercise, proper nutrition, and mindful breaks will be essential for my well-being.
I believe that a healthy mind resides in a healthy body, and to achieve my artistic and literary goals, I must first maintain both my physical and mental health.
Practices such as yoga, meditation, and daily walks will help me regain focus and rejuvenate my mind, allowing me to stay productive without risking burnout.
Expanding My Audience and Impact
While writing and painting are deeply personal pursuits, they also serve a greater purpose—to connect with people, evoke emotions, and inspire change.
The challenge here is to expand my reach and engage a wider audience.
Growing my blog, increasing readership, and finding ways to share my art with more people require a strategic approach. Social media, collaborations, and refining my content will play a vital role in this endeavor.
However, it also means stepping out of my comfort zone, experimenting with new platforms, and embracing constructive feedback.
The journey to a larger audience is filled with trials, but the rewards of touching more lives make the challenge worthwhile.
Embracing the Unexpected
Life has a way of surprising us with unforeseen events—some delightful, others demanding.
The biggest challenge in the next six months may not even be something I anticipate today. It could be an unexpected opportunity, a personal shift, or an external circumstance beyond my control.
Learning to adapt and embrace uncertainty will be just as crucial as planning for the known challenges ahead.
In the Next Six Months
The next six months will be a test of my perseverance, creativity, and ability to maintain balance in various aspects of life.
Whether it is battling creative blocks, staying consistent in my work, maintaining good health, expanding my audience, or handling the unexpected, each challenge presents an opportunity for growth.
I embark on this journey with determination and optimism, knowing that the struggles will ultimately shape me into a stronger, more resilient individual.
After all, every challenge faced with courage becomes a stepping stone to success. Isn’t that true?
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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My approach to budgeting involves a couple of common sayings, “YOLO” (you only live once) and “you can’t take it with you”.
Does that make me sound like I’d be bad with money? ‘Cause you’d be right.
No, it’s not that I’m bad with money, it’s that I know how fickle life and living can be. One minute you’re here and the next you’re not.
I’ve never seen anything so foolish as people saving, saving, saving for retirement, putting all their eggs in that one basket and not enjoying the right now, just to try and live it up when they retire. A year later they drop dead. Now what.
I’d prefer to enjoy the right here and now. I do pay my bills. I do have a pension that I contribute to. But my extra money, I’m not stockpiling it for doomsday. I’m stockpiling it to go on vacation and spend it all. And when I’m back from the vacation, I’ll do it all over again.
Unfortunately with the price of living right now, those vacations will take a bit longer to come around. But that’s okay, to everything turn, turn, turn.
Can just barely see the sundog to the right of the sun, there’s usually one on either side of the sun in certain conditions during winterWas impossible to get Sid to take a pic with me
Art has a quiet way of finding us—sometimes early in life, sometimes much later, but always when we are ready.
For me, art became both a rediscovery and a revelation. What began as curiosity slowly transformed into passion, purpose, and a lifelong companion.
This is not just a story of paintings and brushes, but of growth, emotion, and self-discovery. This is the story behind my passion.
The Joy of Abstract Art
Abstract art gives me the freedom to express emotions without boundaries. There are no rules, no definitions—only feelings translated into strokes and colors.
Each composition mirrors emotions that words often fail to capture. In abstraction, I find honesty, spontaneity, and limitless expression.
Tools of My Trade
From acrylics and watercolors to palette knives, sponges, and brushes of all kinds, my tools are my trusted companions.
Each material offers a unique texture and possibility. Experimenting with them keeps the creative process exciting and unpredictable—just the way I love it.
The Role of Practice
Improvement comes through practice, patience, and persistence. My sketchbooks are filled with trials, errors, unfinished ideas, and sudden breakthroughs.
They tell the real story of growth—one page at a time. Every line drawn and every mistake made has helped shape my artistic voice.
Seeking Inspiration Everywhere
Inspiration surrounds us if we choose to notice it. Travel, city streets, quiet corners, fleeting expressions, and everyday moments fuel my creativity.
I often carry a sketchbook to capture these impressions, which later evolve into full-fledged paintings in my studio.
Finding My Style
Over time, my work began to take on a distinct identity. Vibrant colors, layered textures, and subtle storytelling now define my style.
It reflects who I am—curious, expressive, and deeply connected to emotions and experiences.
Art and Emotions
Art is an emotional language. Through each painting, I express feelings that range from joy and hope to longing and introspection.
Every piece holds a fragment of my inner world, making art not just something I create, but something I feel.
Exhibitions and Showcases
Displaying my work at exhibitions has been both rewarding and humbling.
It allowed me to connect with fellow artists and art lovers, exchange perspectives, and share my passion beyond the canvas.
Each showcase strengthened my confidence and reaffirmed my purpose.
Teaching and Sharing Art
I believe art is meant to be shared. Through my blog posts, I share my artwork and painting experiences to inspire others to explore their own creativity.
If my journey encourages even one person to pick up a brush, then my mission is fulfilled.
Challenges and Growth
Every artistic journey comes with challenges—learning curves, criticism, self-doubt, and moments of uncertainty.
Yet, each obstacle strengthened my skills and deepened my belief in my vision. Growth lives just beyond comfort.
My Favorite Painting
One painting holds a special place in my heart. It captures not just technique, but a story—an emotion frozen in time.
It represents a milestone in my journey and reminds me why I create.
Future Aspirations
My journey is far from over. Like an empty canvas, the future invites endless possibilities.
I aspire to create more art that inspires, tells stories, and touches lives in meaningful ways.
Key Takeaways from My Journey
Art has taught me patience, resilience, and self-expression. It is more than a hobby—it is meditation, healing, and self-discovery.
Above all, it reminds me that creativity has no age, no limits, and no final destination.
My art is my passion—and my passion is my way of life.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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It is said actions speak louder than words. I’ve often found this to be true.
However, words carry a quiet authority – they heal, or bruise without leaving marks.
I’ve come to realize how much power they wield. Sometimes they wound deeper than a knife, especially when meant not merely to hurt but to diminish.
They arrive dressed as maturity – as respect, politeness, fairness, understanding. But beneath the careful tone sits a cold intent: to stand higher by making another smaller.
And once seen, it cannot be unseen.
So I wonder – can reconciliation exist when advice carries invisible pride?
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt sparked my curiosity the moment I read it: “If you could permanently ban a word from general usage, which one would it be? Why?”
At first glance, it sounds like a playful linguistic exercise. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that words are not just sounds or letters—they are powerful tools that shape our thoughts, emotions, and even our reality.
If I truly had the power to ban one word forever, I would choose the word “impossible.”
Let’s explore why.
The Hidden Power of Words
Language is one of humanity’s greatest inventions. With it, we express love, build civilizations, resolve conflicts, and inspire revolutions.
Words can comfort a grieving heart or ignite a courageous spirit. But just as words can uplift, they can also limit.
Some words quietly shape our beliefs about what we can and cannot do. Among these, “impossible” is perhaps the most restrictive.
From childhood, many of us hear phrases like, “That’s impossible,” or “You can’t do that.” Over time, these statements settle into our subconscious, forming invisible boundaries.
We begin to accept limits not because they truly exist, but because language convinced us they did. The word becomes a mental wall long before we ever test our abilities.
Why “Impossible” Deserves Retirement
Imagine a world where the word “impossible” simply didn’t exist. People might say “difficult,”“challenging,” or “not yet understood.”
Notice the difference? Each of these alternatives leaves room for effort, growth, and hope. They acknowledge obstacles without declaring defeat.
History is filled with achievements that were once labeled impossible: flying across oceans, communicating instantly across continents, and curing diseases once thought fatal.
Every breakthrough began when someone refused to accept that word as truth. If those pioneers had believed in “impossible,” many of the conveniences we enjoy today might still be dreams.
The danger of the word lies not in its dictionary definition, but in its psychological impact. When we label something impossible, we often stop trying. We shut the door before even testing the handle.
“Impossible” becomes a quiet thief of potential.
The word doesn’t only affect grand ambitions; it seeps into daily life. A student struggling with math might think, “I’m just not good at this—it’s impossible for me.” A writer facing a blank page might whisper, “I’ll never finish this.”
Someone hoping to change careers, start a business, or learn a new skill may abandon the idea simply because the word appeared in their thoughts.
In this way, “impossible” becomes a quiet thief of potential. It steals chances before they are taken and dreams before they are pursued.
Replacing Limits with Possibility
Banning the word wouldn’t magically remove challenges from life. Obstacles would still exist. Failure would still happen.
But our mindset toward them would shift.
Instead of declaring defeat, we would search for alternatives. Instead of saying “I can’t,” we might ask “How can I?” That small change in language can spark creativity and resilience.
Words influence attitude, and attitude influences action.
When we change our vocabulary, we often change our perspective. Removing one limiting word could open thousands of mental doors.
A Thought Experiment
Picture a child who has never heard the word “impossible.” When faced with a problem, that child wouldn’t think, “This can’t be done.” Instead, they might wonder, “What else can I try?”
That curiosity is the birthplace of innovation.
In many ways, children naturally live without the concept of impossibility until adults teach it to them.
Perhaps the real lesson isn’t that we should literally erase the word from dictionaries, but that we should be mindful of how casually we use it. Language should encourage exploration, not restrict it.
My Final Submission
If I could permanently ban one word from general usage, “impossible” would be my choice—not because it is evil or offensive, but because it quietly convinces people to stop believing in their own potential.
The world advances when individuals challenge limits, not when they accept them.
Maybe we don’t need to erase the word completely. Maybe we simply need to treat it with suspicion, questioning it whenever it appears.
The next time we’re tempted to say something is impossible, perhaps we should pause and ask: Is it truly impossible—or just unexplored?
Because sometimes, the greatest achievements in life begin the moment we stop believing that anything is impossible.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Of course I am. I’m Canadian. I have every reason to be.
I love this country. I love being Canadian.
Honestly, when I was young it sometimes felt a bit small or a bit embarrassing to be Canadian, especially when compared to the US. We were the runt of the litter. We were not cool.
But that’s completely changed.
We are super cool. We’re smart. We’re funny. We’re industrious. We’re successful.
In Manitoba it’s Louis Riel Day. He was a Metis leader and fighter who died fighting for what he believed in. I’m enjoying this extra day off to get stuff done around the house.
Taz is home from Australia and Bella-Lena is home from Winnipeg for Reading Week so the house is full, the grocery bill is high and there’s never a dull moment. Happy Monday.
Yeah we care, our Prime Minister & his opposition holding hands at the memorial for the victims at Tumbler RidgeTaz & I yesterday fishingSid played outside on the lake allll day yesterdayCoffee’s on in the ice shack
“Still Becoming” is a reflective poem by me, exploring life as an ongoing journey of growth, self-discovery, and resilience.
It reminds you that our stories are never finished, that our worth is not measured by achievements alone, and that every pause, setback, and quiet moment contributes to the beauty of our unfolding narrative.
# Still Becoming #
I am not a finished story. Not a book closed, not a tale told, not a life neatly summarized in bold.
I am a sentence still forming, a dawn still warming, a quiet seed beneath the soil slowly learning the language of blooming.
Do not measure me by trophies on shelves or titles that glitter for others’ eyes. Measure me by the nights I stood alone and still chose to rise.
Because life— life is not a straight road. It curves, it climbs, it disappears into fog sometimes.
It is wrong turns that teach a lesson, losses that whisper reflection, and pauses… oh, those pauses— where the soul finally hears its own voice.
I have been many versions of myself: the dreamer, the doubter, the one who fell, and the one who got up quieter… but stronger. Yes, my soul is still becoming.
“Sin, he reflected, is not what it is usually thought to be; it is not to steal and tell lies. Sin is for one man to walk brutally over the life of another and to be quite oblivious of the wounds he has left behind.” — Shusaku Endo
Starting the week with a quieter reminder – not every harm is loud. Sometimes, it’s just the absence of care.
Often we think of sin as choosing between right and wrong – doing good or bad.
But this quote makes me stop, not just pause.
It reminds me how we treat another. We crush and trample someone’s feelings carelessly, then continue on, unaware of what we leave behind – the wreckage – while the other is trying to salvage what remains of themselves.
Is this what Maya Angelou meant when she said, “People will forget what you said and people will forget what you did. But people will never forget how you made them feel.”
Gifts are far more than mere objects—they are vessels of thought, affection, and lasting memory.
A gift doesn’t need to be expensive to be meaningful; its true worth is measured by the emotions it inspires and the memories it creates.
The most memorable gifts are those that transcend material value, touching the heart and leaving an enduring impression.
They shape who we are, how we feel, and how we connect with others, becoming cherished reminders of love, gratitude, and shared moments that stay with us long after the gift is received.
The Tale of the Magical Shirt
In the fast-paced world of banking, where promotions are highly sought after and success is hard-earned, sometimes the most unexpected things become the catalysts for change.
In this tale, I share the story of a seemingly ordinary gift that turned out to be the best I’ve ever received, changing the course of my professional life and making me a believer in the extraordinary power of superstitions.
The Long-Awaited Promotion:
As a dedicated banker eagerly awaiting my first promotion, the anticipation was palpable.
Despite my best efforts, the promotion remained elusive, leaving me in a perpetual state of hope and waiting for the next opportunity.
The Unexpected Gift:
Enter a close friend, who, sensing my frustration, decided to gift me something unusual – his old shirt. This gesture, while initially amusing, would soon become a turning point in my career.
He insisted I wear it for my upcoming promotion interview, attributing it with a touch of superstition.
Despite my initial skepticism, I decided to trust my friend’s suggestion, marking the beginning of an unexpected journey.
The Interview Day:
With the old shirt on my back, I walked into the interview room, a mix of nerves and curiosity about the potential impact of this seemingly magical garment.
To my surprise (and perhaps to the credit of the shirt), I not only passed the interview but secured the long-awaited promotion.
The Rise of Superstitions:
Success has a funny way of influencing beliefs, and mine was no exception. Post-promotion,
I found myself adopting superstitions, particularly regarding clothing choices during important events. Wearing the same set of clothes became my good luck charm,
After being appointed in charge of the branch technical head during the Branch computerized system,
I made it a routine to thank God when leaving home and upon returning from the bank and never forgot wearing the same set of clothes as my good luck charm,
The Branch Head in Kolkata:
Posted in one of the prime branches in Kolkata, I continued my journey with my newfound beliefs.
When faced with an important meeting, I turned to that old shirt once again, and true to its track record, success followed.
The Aging Shirt:
As time went by, the shirt aged gracefully, becoming a symbol of my journey. The collar might have been torn, and the fabric worn, but its significance to me only grew stronger.
Repairs were made, and the shirt became a trusted companion, especially during the winter season when it found refuge under my sweater.
The Unfortunate Ending
However, all good things must come to an end, and so did the life of the magical shirt.
In a twist of fate, my wife, unaware of its significance, turned it into a cleaning rag during her routine visit from Patna’s home.
The shirt that had witnessed my triumphs became a mere tool in the hands of a maidservant, leaving me with a sense of loss and regret.
Yes, friends, the journey from a skeptical banker to a believer in the power of superstitions was unexpected but undoubtedly transformative.
The old shirt, initially just a gift, became a symbol of my success and a reminder that sometimes, the best gifts come in the most ordinary packages.
As I reflect on this tale, I can’t help but marvel at the twists and turns that led to the unexpected culmination of the magical shirt’s journey.
It might be gone, but its impact on my life and career lingers, making it truly the best gift I’ve ever received.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I tried to discipline myself that weekends are for quality time with my family, especially if my sisters and parents are around. Yesterday, after delivering the groceries and writing about it, I sneaked a little bit on the blogs and dropped some thoughts to my loyal readers.
Honestly, it’s a challenge for me to put down my phone because I like documenting daily life events, but when Papa and Mama sat with me on the balcony yesterday, I tried. I think on the weekend, especially on Sunday, I will do my best to be more present with them.
Mama
I turned offline and lay down in Papa’s hammock, and then Hazel later dreamed. It was a beautiful nap. My youngest sister was tying a hammock in our tiny forest just in our front yard, and she napped there.
Youngest sister
After eating boiled bananas and taro, my youngest sister played her sweet songs while she tied the picket lines of our darling goats. They drink water. Nibo was jumping due to the silly ants while my chickens were crowing—always hungry. Then find out what my darling cats were doing in this video.
After that, I went to my sister’s hammock, and Blacky followed me and just shared his lovely vibes. My sister was enjoying the goats, and she pulled a “santol” branch that Josa craved. She fed them, and I love seeing them.
Me and BlackyThe rural feetSister and JosaSister and our darling goats
Then, I continue unwinding in the hammock until it gets dark. When I entered, my sister called me for dinner since she cooked vegetable pear with eggs and kang kong salad. I was full of the bananas, but I tasted again because it looks good and healthy.
I will continue reading Robert Petterson’s The Book of Amazing Stories, and I think I’ll finish this 270-page book in a month, combining it with blog engagement. I’ll do my best to reciprocate your kindness to me. I can see some are leaving, but I know loyal readers will always be loyal readers.
Thank you so much, my amazing readers. I appreciate you always, ane stay so kind. Happy Monday!
Umm yeah, absolutely and that would be the too friendly, oversharing part.
Why am I too friendly? Because of my Dad. He was always big on being friendly and courteous to others. I remember him often remarking on how friendly others were and how much he appreciated it, whether it was one of our friends or just someone who worked in a store. He’d comment on their big smile, what they said and how nice it is to have friendly people in the world.
Why do I overshare? I have no idea but I do know that I feel the need to justify or explain every decision I make. Okay not every decision, but many of them. And not just to people close to me but even complete strangers.
It took me years to be aware of this and now that I am, I try to hold back in certain circumstances. Not all people are accepting of my friendliness and not everyone wants to hear my stories.
Some pics from yesterdayI rode in the sleighWas toasty warm in the ice shackOf course I caught almost all of the fish
This poem reflects on a photograph taken forty years ago, where two young friends stand frozen in time.
While life has aged them and carried them across distant roads, the picture preserves their youthful bond forever.
It celebrates memory, friendship, and the quiet miracle of a moment that never grows old
# We Still Live in That Frame #
In a wash of silver, soft and gray, Two friends stand in the light of day; With shirts as bright as morning sky, And careless dreams in either eye.
One hand rests light on a friend’s frame, Before the years had changed their name; A silent promise in that stay, Before the tides could pull away.
The flowers in that painted vase Are locked forever in that place; They do not wilt, they do not die, Beneath that still, unchanging sky.
Outside, the hair has turned to white, And time has swallowed day and night; The roads you walked were long and wide, With only memories as your guide.
Yet memories are gentle things— They never age, they only sing; Of how the sunlight kissed your face In that long-forgotten, tender place.
Forty years have come and gone Since flashed that lens one quiet dawn; But look again—the heart knows best, It greets the past, a festal guest.
For time may steal and years may flee, And life may drift like restless sea— Still here within this captured view, Lives the friendship we always knew
I hope this blog finds you exactly where you are meant to be—curious, reflective, and open to a little introspection.
Today’s writing prompt stopped me in my tracks the moment I read it: “If there were a biography about you, what would the title be?”
At first glance, it seems simple, almost playful. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized how deeply thoughtful this question truly is. A title, after all, is not just a label; it is a distillation of a life.
A biography title does something extraordinary.
In just a handful of words, it attempts to capture decades of experiences, contradictions, failures, victories, and quiet moments no one else ever saw.
It asks us to step back and look at our own lives not as a series of random events, but as a story with meaning, direction, and voice. That is no small task.
When I began thinking about my own hypothetical biography, my first instinct was to reach for something impressive—something that sounded accomplished, wise, or triumphant.
Many of us do this. We are conditioned to measure our lives by milestones: careers, achievements, recognition, and success. Titles like Against All Odds or The Road to Greatness come easily because they reflect the narratives we are told to value.
But the more honest I tried to be, the more those titles felt incomplete.
I think a true biography title should not only reflect where we arrived, but how we traveled. It should hold space for detours, restarts, and the messy in-between moments.
Life is the collection of lessons learned
Friends, Life is not straight lines; it is a collection of lessons learned during journey of life. . The risks taken without guarantees, and growth that often happens quietly, without applause.
For me, the title that kept resurfacing was something like “Still Becoming.” I was drawn to it because it resists finality.
It acknowledges that life is not a finished product but an ongoing process. No matter our age or experience, we are all still learning—about ourselves, about others, about what truly matters.
Yes, this title honors curiosity over certainty and growth over perfection.
Psychologically speaking, humans are meaning-making creatures. We understand ourselves through stories.
Finally, When we choose a biography title, we are engaging in narrative identity—the way we organize our past and imagine our future. “Still Becoming” is most suitable for me as I reveal my past .
The title we choose reveals what we believe defines us: resilience, kindness, persistence, faith, creativity, or even survival.
What’s fascinating is that two people could live very similar lives and choose entirely different titles, because interpretation matters more than events themselves.
One person might title their biography Lessons from Failure, while another might call the same journey The Courage to Begin Again. Both are true. The difference lies in perspective.
This prompt also gently challenges us to take ownership of our story. Instead of allowing others—society, circumstance, or critics—to define us, we are asked to define ourselves.
What do we want to be remembered for? What thread connects the chapters of our life? Is it compassion? Curiosity? Quiet strength?
A biography title does not have to be dramatic to be meaningful
Importantly, a biography title does not have to be dramatic to be meaningful. Some of the most powerful titles are simple: Learning to Listen, A Life of Small Brave Choices, or Finding Light Where I Stood.
These titles suggest self-awareness and humility, reminding us that significance is not always loud.
As you reflect on this prompt, I invite you not to rush your answer. Let it evolve. Your title today might not be your title ten years from now—and that’s a beautiful thing. Growth should change the story we tell about ourselves.
In the end, choosing a biography title is less about summarizing your entire life and more about understanding how you see it right now.
It is a mirror, not a verdict. And perhaps the most comforting realization of all is this: as long as you are alive, the final chapter has not been written—and the title can always be rewritten too.
Until next time, keep reflecting, keep questioning, and most importantly, keep becoming.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Here’s my second audio ‘video’ of crows making noise.
This time, they were loud and angry.
I think there were two different murders fighting over … if not that particular stretch of trees, maybe a body?
Anyway, this is the closest recording I have to the time I was swarmed by forty-five crows, and I’ve been carrying around a recorder on my morning walks ever since, hoping to encounter such a sound again.
Finally, last Friday, success!
(And Friday the 13th, no less. How apropos!)
As with the previous video, this is best experienced with headphones. The video itself is just still images, so I encourage you to close your eyes and imagine you’re walking a dog when you suddenly find yourself … surrounded by a high key murder.
When I was growing up, the neighbours who lived about half a mile north were a young-ish couple who hadn’t been able to have kids. It was a big deal when the wife travelled to Romania to adopt a baby boy.
Around this time I had a friend from school come for a sleepover. We decided to pop in and see this new baby. I remember this moment so well; because my friend was slightly more extroverted than I was, and in new situations I tend to hang back a bit, my friend appeared to be a lot more interested in the baby.
The mom turned to the dad and said, well it seems like we have a baby-sitter here but it’s the wrong one. Meaning that because I lived so close, but didn’t appear as gung-ho about the baby as my friend, who lived 20 minutes away, she felt my friend would make a good baby-sitter.
My heart sunk a bit. I really really loved babies. Always have. I raised a couple of dolls when I was barely out of diapers myself. I was so bummed that the mom felt that I was the less obvious choice to baby-sit for her.
I didn’t feel sad for long though because within weeks she was calling me to come and watch the baby. I started baby-sitting for them when I was eleven and was their regular sitter for years. I even travelled with her a couple of summers later to Alberta to watch the baby while she attended a high school reunion.
I had other baby-sitting gigs in this time too but Andrew was my favourite baby.
Oh and Happy Vday…I’m a bit bahumbug about it…I don’t like mushy touchy-feely relationship stuff. I did get the kids some little treats though. To Clint I texted: Happy Vday, I love you, thanks for letting me be me and thanks for being such a great Dada to Sid…he got me some beautiful flowers…we plan to go fishing later (hard water fishing), he and I and Sid
A tender, wistful poem capturing the quiet intimacy of memory and longing. The poem invites a loved one into the sacred space of dreams, cherishing moments that reality can no longer hold. It’s a meditation on love, absence, and the gentle haunting of the heart.
# Whispers in the Night #
You stepped inside my room today, Without a sound, you found your way. You leaned in close and whispered near, The voice I’ve longed for all these years.
You sat beside me, quiet, still, As close as hearts that always will. I heard your heartbeat, soft and deep, A tender rhythm through my sleep.
Just stay awhile and hum that song, The way you did when days were long. But do not wake me; dream’s not done, Even in dreams, my soul won’t shun.
Don’t pull my ear or touch my head, Let me dream of you instead. If this is sleep, then let it stay, Don’t let the dawn steal you away.
Just let me drift where memories grew, And live once more the life we knew. So when the night brings shadows deep, Come and haunt me gently in my sleep
Today’s Blogannuary writing prompt—complaining—nudged me into reflection, because if there is one habit we humans share across cultures, ages, and circumstances, it is this: we complain.
Complaining is a natural human response. It is how we express discomfort, dissatisfaction, pain, or frustration.
From minor daily annoyances to life-altering challenges, we often find ourselves caught in an endless loop of grievances. Sometimes, it feels easier to complain than to pause, reflect, and respond.
Take the weather, for instance. For some people, it never cooperates. Too hot, too cold, too rainy, too dry—there’s always something wrong.
And they make sure everyone around them knows it. Yet life, like the weather, is unpredictable. It comes with twists and turns, highs and lows, sunshine and storms. It simply is.
What’s fascinating is how differently people experience the same reality. While some hardly notice inconveniences, others fixate on them.
Negative-minded individuals, in particular, tend to complain about things far beyond their control. Want to understand someone’s outlook on life? Pay attention to what they complain about.
Here are 10 common areas where chronic complaining often shows up:
The Weather:
Negative people can turn a sunny day into a rain cloud. Their constant dissatisfaction with the weather can dampen the mood and spoil the fun for everyone around them.
Traffic and Commuting:
No matter how advanced transportation becomes, chronic complainers will find something to gripe about – be it delays, cost, or the unpredictability of the ride.
This attitude can lead to stress, frustration, and even road rage.
Waiting: Waiting is a universal experience, but negative people tend to make it an unbearable one.
Their impatience can affect those around them, making every passing moment feel like an eternity.
Work Culture and Office Politics:
Negative individuals often criticize every aspect of their work environment, from office politics to management styles.
This attitude can create a toxic work atmosphere, affecting overall team spirit and collaboration.
Their Own Job:
Even if they have a great job, chronic complainers focus on the negatives – from seemingly negative co-workers to perceived stressful email threads.
This negativity impacts morale, job satisfaction, and overall well-being.
Other People’s Success:
A chronic complainer often struggles with acknowledging and appreciating the success of others.
They find faults in accomplishments and question how others achieved them, leading to a hostile environment.
Financial condition:
While the economy may have its challenges, negative people magnify the negatives more than the positives.
They blame external factors for their financial struggles and make excuses rather than taking action.
Life’s Responsibilities:
Negative individuals view life’s responsibilities as unbearable tasks, complaining about work, bills, and health.
This mindset can lead to stagnation and complacency, hindering personal growth.
Resist to Change:
Change is necessary for growth, but chronic complainers resist it due to a fear of failure. They dismiss new opportunities, convinced of their superior knowledge.
Political Mindset:
Negative people and politics can be a dangerous combination, leading to agitation, complaints, and a blame-game mindset.
They tend to avoid taking responsibility for their thoughts and actions, what is happening in today’s environment.
Self-Compassion:
Pessimistic individuals lack self-compassion, fixating on their faults and contributing to guilt, shame, and poor mental health.
Practicing self-compassion is essential for breaking free from this toxic cycle.
No Complain Please …
In the journey of my life, I’ve weathered the storms of life and have, at times, found solace in complaining.
However, I’ve come to realize that life is too short to be bogged down by grievances. Instead of dwelling on what we lack,
let’s focus on making our lives beautiful, utilizing our time for meaningful endeavors rather than wasting it on complaints.
In the twilight of life, one common complaint echoes the feeling of being unheard. It seems that the younger generation remains elusive to our thoughts and desires.
Let’s engage in a special discussion to bridge the generation gap, fostering understanding and mutual respect.
Complaining, though a natural human tendency, can spiral into chronic negativity.
I’ve observed how chronic complainers create toxic environments, magnifying trivial issues to attract attention and drama.
It’s crucial to recognize the impact of our complaints on ourselves and those around us.
Complaining seldom leads to solutions
Reflecting on my journey, I’ve realized that complaining seldom leads to solutions. Instead, it tends to exacerbate problems. We all face challenges, but the key lies in how we approach them.
Consider reframing negative thoughts and channeling them into positive actions. Taking a walk to clear the mind can be a powerful tool in transforming complaints into constructive energy.
Remember, life is an intricate tapestry, and each thread contributes to its unique beauty. By embracing positivity and minimizing complaints, we can weave a more fulfilling and enriching narrative
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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A tribute to the true meaning of love and companionship
In an age where love is often mistaken for words, gifts, or social media gestures, it is easy to lose sight of what truly defines a woman’s heart.
Many people today measure affection in fleeting symbols—a message, a post, a token—but love that endures is built on something far deeper.
A woman calling you baby or sweetheart may sound endearing, but words alone don’t define devotion.
A woman showering you with gifts or displaying affection online may warm the heart for a while, yet these gestures alone cannot sustain the soul of a relationship. Even marriage, solemn and sacred as it is, does not always guarantee love that is real.
What truly defines a woman’s love lies beyond appearances
Truly, It rests in her respect, her steadfastness, and her faith in you when the world doubts you.
It is the quiet loyalty that stands the test of time, the patience that endures hardship, and the grace that nurtures both strength and peace.
I have come to understand this truth not through philosophy or observation, but through life itself—through forty-two beautiful years of marriage to a woman who has shown me what love truly means.
She has never needed grand gestures to prove her affection. Her love reveals itself in the gentle way she listens, the calm with which she handles storms, and the silent strength she carries through every season.
She respects without conditions, believes without hesitation, and supports without expectation. In her presence, I have found peace; in her faith, I have found purpose.
A woman who respects you is a rare blessing.
Respect is not submission—it is recognition. It is the quiet acknowledgment that you are human, worthy of both understanding and partnership.
My wife has stood beside me not because life was easy, but precisely because it wasn’t.
In times of uncertainty, she did not lose faith; she became my reminder that even when life shakes us, love can steady us.
When the world valued possessions, she valued peace. When others sought glamour, she chose grace.
Together, we built not just a house but a home—filled with laughter, forgiveness, and dreams.
Through the years, we have seen time etch its stories on our faces, watched the seasons of life unfold with both joy and challenge.
Yet, every chapter has been bound by her loyalty. When health faltered or plans went astray, she remained the same—steady, kind, and strong.
She never sought to change who I was; instead, she helped me become who I was meant to be.
That, I have realized, is the greatest expression of love: not to complete a person, but to inspire their best self.
The right woman doesn’t walk ahead or behind
Yes, The right woman doesn’t walk ahead or behindShe walks beside. She doesn’t measure success in achievements but in shared peace.
She doesn’t just celebrate your victories; she comforts you in defeat. She doesn’t compete with your dreams; she builds them with you.
After forty-two years, I know that love isn’t a one-time event—it’s a lifelong choice. It’s choosing to stay kind in disagreements, to be patient in struggle, and to stand together even when the road gets rough.
When youth fades, and passion softens into understanding, what remains is the soul of companionship.
It’s in the laughter over shared memories, the comfort of silence, and the ease of knowing that you are loved not for what you do, but for who you are.
To the world, love may look like fireworks. But to me, it looks like a lamp glowing gently through the night—steady, warm, unwavering.
My wife has been that light: a quiet constant in an ever-changing world.
If I were asked to define a woman, I would say she is the one who gives without counting, forgives without bitterness, and loves without pride.
She is strength wrapped in softness, wisdom hidden in humility, and devotion expressed not in words but in action.
True love doesn’t need to be loud—it simply needs to last. And as I look back on these forty-two years of shared life, I know that I have been blessed beyond measure.
Because the right woman doesn’t just love the man you are— She helps you become the man you were born to be.
My Final Reflection
As I write this, I realize that time has not weakened our bond—it has refined it. Beauty fades, words fade, even passion fades, but respect, loyalty, and effort remain unshaken.
If love is a journey, then I have been fortunate to walk mine beside a woman who has been its truest compass.
Yes, the woman who walked beside me—not just through comfort, but through struggle; not just through years, but through life itself.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I was busy with my screen time when my fifth sister chatted me to ask if my youngest nephew had arrived at home, and I replied, “Wait, I’ll check below.” There, I found the three kids busy answering their homework because I know they want to finish it to finally play all weekend.
My youngest nephew is living in town, so his space to play outdoors is limited; thus, his cousins introduced him to a new place to play. I followed them, of course, to watch them, as the playground is just beside the road where the vehicles pass by. And this is what happened.
His mommy and daddy arrived at noon to eat lunch at home, but his mom, my fifth sister, tried what they did, too, but she failed. She said her body is very heavy.
She triedLunch
Elsewhere, my youngest sister beeped that Kerri’s package arrived. I’m so excited to open it. It’s her books. Thank you so much, Kerri.
And last month, I dropped a comment on Violet’s post, expressing my desire to give her a photo, and she’ll make a story or poem because I’m always mesmerized by her writing ability and joining any different challenge. Yesterday, she posted the photos and the story, and I was so entertained. You can check it here. Thank you so much, Violet.
My fifth sister invited us to join our brother-in-law’s birthday celebration on the beach, and it depends on Kuya because he’s the driver. But, my second eldest sister said that we’ll go to town, and we might attend the party. Hence, I posted early today.
I’ll catch up with you later or tomorrow. Thank you so much, my amazing readers. Stay fantastic!
This poem is a tribute to my wife and partner of forty-two years. It celebrates a love based on respect, loyalty, and shared growth.
Through every season—joy and hardship alike—she has walked beside me with strength and belief.
This is my expression of gratitude to the woman who made love enduring and life meaningful.
# O, My Dear Better Half #
You came not with glitter or grand display, But love that grew in a steady way. No lofty words, no shining art, Just quiet strength and a faithful heart.
You held my dreams when hope felt small, Believed in me when I’d lost it all. Through storm and calm, you stayed near, Your voice my comfort, soft and clear.
Not one to boast, not one to claim, Yet life with you was never the same. We built our world with trust and grace, Time could not fade your gentle face.
Through forty-two years, both joy and pain, Your hand in mine has been my gain. You walk beside me, calm and true— My life, my strength, remain with you.
Beauty may fade, but truth will stay, Your love still lights my every day.
Sometimes there’s a calm before the storm while other times there’s a storm before the calm.
This was the case the other day as I was walking home from work. When I left work the wind caused the snowflakes to slap me in the face from all directions. I could barely see and it was almost painful to walk against the wind.
But as I got closer to home the skies were starting to clear and the sun was peeking through the puffy clouds. It was such a relief.
That’s when I realized that there sometimes needs to be a storm before the calm, a way to clear the air so to speak. Then the calm comes.
My best guess is there were a couple of murders fighting over territory.
I walked right under their screaming and yelling.
I really hope the recording comes out.
We encountered the usual display of flora during our walk.
And then the morning coffee ritual.
New coffee this morning. The pumpkin spice blend ran out, so this morning it’s a cinnamon blend (like my Linux desktop environment -IYKYK).
Opted for 12MP images today. When shooting 64MP, in addition to the slugishness I’ve mentioned before, I’m also finding that the auto focus doesn’t work reliably. And I need to research whether this is a true 64MP or interpolated.
This poem is a tribute to my wife and partner of forty-two years. It celebrates a love based on respect, loyalty, and shared growth.
Through every season—joy and hardship alike—she has walked beside me with strength and belief.
This is my expression of gratitude to the woman who made love enduring and life meaningful.
O, My Dear Better Half
You came not with glitter or grand display, But love that grew in a steady way. No lofty words, no shining art, Just quiet strength and a faithful heart.
You held my dreams when hope felt small, Believed in me when I’d lost it all. Through storm and calm, you stayed near, Your voice my comfort, soft and clear.
Not one to boast, not one to claim, Yet life with you was never the same. We built our world with trust and grace, Time could not fade your gentle face.
Through forty-two years, both joy and pain, Your hand in mine has been my gain. You walk beside me, calm and true— My life, my strength, remain with you.
Beauty may fade, but truth will stay, Your love still lights my every day.
Should I be excited for Valentine’s Day? The commercial establishments certainly want me to be. I suppose I’ll go along with it.
I have a few thoughts on love, though this may not be exactly Valentine material. Hey – it’s still love.
I was watching the crime documentary Into The Fire. It was about a biological mother searching for her missing child. She had given her daughter up for adoption when she was young. Tragically, the family her daughter was adopted into turned out to be fatal for the girl. The adopted father turned out to be a predator. He abused and eventually killed her. And for years he managed to hide his various crimes.
But in the middle of this story, what captured and disturbed me was the wife. Her unwavering love and belief in her husband. Even as the truth about his crimes surfaced. Even as she learned he had assaulted other women.
She still chose to stand by him.
I mean… isn’t that preposterous?
Maybe I can understand love, a little bit. After all, how does one dismantle forty-plus years of marriage? But still believe? Even as investigations revealed he sexually assaulted women before the marriage and after. He even took a life. Yet she still believed him, even as his lies unraveled. She remained devoted to him.
Devotion – that’s the word I stumble over. How can one still be devoted to someone you discover you never truly knew? Even as she started accepting that he committed these crimes, her devotion and commitment did not waver.
Is this what true love is? Is devotion loyalty to the point of blindness?
Committing a crime of this magnitude is not a mistake or a lapse in judgment. This is depravity. A deeper rot that lurks within, and once indulged, consumes wholly. He pretended to live a normal life while abusing his adopted daughter. He had no remorse or guilt. In fact, he continued to lie and varnish the truth.
Is that what love stands beside?
I thought her “for better or worse, ’til death do us part” was taking it a bit too far. This was unhealthy devotion – protecting something it should not. I know love covers a multitude of wrongs, but not this kind of wrong.
So what are we supposed to do when loyalty and faithfulness collide with evil?
Perhaps when a person is truly remorseful, repentant, and willing to face consequences, grace makes space. But even then, does one remain married? What does devotion demand? To what extent are we supposed to stand by someone?
How noble is loyalty and devotion if it shields what is unjust and evil?
If devotion means love, is doing the right thing by exposing harm less devotion? Less love?
I can’t help but ask – where is the line between commitment and complicity?
If one chooses blindness over truth, is that still commitment, or something else?
How can we call it love if there’s no accountability – not from the perpetrator, nor from the one who did not know – and then chose not to see? Love is supposed to protect, isn’t it? Even if that protection means confronting the one you love. Even if it means protecting them from themselves.
I’d have to say, I grudgingly acknowledge her commitment. She honored her marriage vows. Though here, devotion was tragically misplaced. Love does come in many forms, and it never ceases to amaze me how differently we understand and interpret it.
Another thought to ponder –
Would you rather protect yourself and not know – or know and risk getting hurt, again?
Friends, gather around and raise a glass to nostalgia. Today’s writing prompt asks a deceptively simple question: What is your favorite drink?
At first, it sounds like casual small talk—the sort of thing you’d ask at a dinner table or while waiting for a meeting to begin.
But if you pause for a moment, you’ll realize that this question is not really about beverages at all. It is about memory, identity, culture, and connection.
And for me, the answer will forever be tied to a sparkling slice of the past, set in one of India’s most vibrant cities.
Let me take you back about fifteen years, to my days stationed at the Main Branch in Kolkata. Those were lively times, filled with deadlines, paperwork, and professional responsibilities.
Yet amid the routine, our respected AGM Saheb had a remarkable way of nurturing team spirit.
He introduced a tradition that soon became the highlight of our month: every fourth Saturday, the ten officers of our branch would gather for a cocktail evening at the iconic Bluefox Hotel on Park Street.
Setting the Scene: The Allure of Bluefox
Ah, the Bluefox! Anyone who experienced it knows it was not just a restaurant or bar—it was an institution.
The place pulsed with energy. Music drifted through the air, laughter blended with clinking glasses, and the atmosphere felt alive with possibility.
The décor glowed warmly under soft lights, and the aroma of delicious food mingled with the unmistakable scent of celebration.
Though the establishment has since closed its doors, its spirit lives on in the hearts of those who once spent evenings there.
There we were, a group of colleagues transformed into companions, ready to unwind after weeks of work. Titles and designations faded into the background as we settled into the comfort of shared leisure.
A Toast to Individuality: A Symphony of Drinks
One of the most fascinating aspects of those evenings was the variety of drinks that appeared on our table.
Each officer had a favorite: some preferred classic whisky, others leaned toward beer, a few chose wine, and a couple experimented with cocktails.
That diversity reflected our personalities—serious, jovial, adventurous, or reserved—each glass telling a subtle story about its owner.
As for me, there was never any debate. My choice was always the same: the mesmerizing Blue Lagoon cocktail.
With its brilliant turquoise hue and refreshing blend of citrusy sweetness, it was as delightful to look at as it was to taste.
The drink felt like a miniature vacation in a glass, transporting me far from files and figures into a breezy world of color and calm.
This is precisely why the question “What is your favorite drink?” is so intriguing.
A favorite drink is rarely chosen by accident. It often reflects our mood, our temperament, and even our aspirations.
Some prefer bold flavors, others subtle notes. Some seek comfort, others excitement. In answering the question, we unknowingly reveal a piece of ourselves.
Beyond the Blue: Camaraderie and Connection
As the evenings unfolded, the real magic was not only in the drinks but in what they created among us.
With every sip, conversations grew warmer and more open. Topics that once felt too formal for office hours—personal challenges, ambitions, family stories—flowed freely. Laughter rose easily, echoing across the table like music of its own.
Psychologists often note that shared rituals strengthen social bonds, and those Saturdays proved it.
Sitting together, glass in hand, we discovered each other not merely as colleagues but as individuals.
Barriers softened, understanding deepened, and friendships blossomed. The drink, in a sense, was only the catalyst; the real essence was connection.
The Bill Arrives: A Lesson in Togetherness
Every memorable evening must eventually wind down, and ours were no exception. When the bill arrived, it was usually substantial—after all, good times rarely come cheaply.
Often, I happened to be the one paying the amount that night, especially when my enthusiasm for Blue Lagoons was at its peak.
Yet what truly mattered was what happened the next day. Without fail, each officer, including our AGM Saheb, would contribute their share with cheerful willingness.
That simple gesture carried a powerful message: we were a team not only in work but also in spirit.
Responsibility was shared, just like laughter and stories. It turned what could have been a mundane transaction into a symbol of trust and unity.
The Legacy of a Favorite Drink
Today, the Bluefox Hotel exists only in memory, and our professional paths ended as I retired.
Yet whenever I see a Blue Lagoon on a menu or catch sight of that familiar blue shimmer, I am instantly transported back to those evenings of camaraderie and carefree conversation.
The taste recalls friendships, the color recalls laughter, and the memory reminds me how meaningful small traditions can be.
That is why the question “What is your favorite drink?” deserves more than a one-word answer. It invites reflection. It encourages us to revisit moments that shaped us and people who enriched our lives.
A favorite drink is not merely about flavor; it is about the experiences poured into the glass along with it.
So, my friends, whether your choice is a vibrant cocktail, a steaming cup of tea, a classic soda, or even a simple glass of water, cherish it.
Behind that preference lies a story waiting to be told. And perhaps, when you share that story with others, you will discover—as I did—that sometimes the sweetest taste of all is the taste of connection.
Cheers—to your favorite drink, and to the memories it carries.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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The bane of my existence is “Mom, what’s for supper??”. Seriously. Drives me nuts. Every damn day.
Like who signed me up for this?
I don’t mind the cooking aspect of it but it’s the picking something out to eat that satisfies everyone part of it that’s brutally tough. And it’s repetitive.
Nine times out of ten Cordelia isn’t satisfied with my answer.
But I know I was like this with my Mom as well. I’m not sure what I expected her answer to be each time I said mom what’s for supper. I should have known that most days it was going to be meat and potatoes in some fashion.
So give me someone to cook the meals and I will be extremely satisfied.
A lyrical meditation on awakening and self-discovery, “A Mile to Go” captures the journey from a life defined by duty to one shaped by curiosity, passion, and the unwritten possibilities of the future.
It celebrates the quiet persistence of growth and the poetry that lives in every moment.
# A Mile to Go #
I am a banker. I counted numbers, balanced ledgers, measured wealth with precision. But beneath the figures, another ledger waited— one that kept track of wonder.
And when time loosened its tie, when duty stepped aside, a quiet wish stirred awake and whispered, “Now… write.”
So I write.
I write for the questions that never raise their hands. I write for the hearts that ache in silence. I write because stories live everywhere— in strangers, in sunsets, in the hush between breaths.
If you ask me, “What is the title of your life?”
I will not claim The Great or The Famous or The Victorious.
No.
I will smile softly and answer—
A mile to go.
Because I am still learning, still growing, still turning pages inside. I am the story yet unwritten, the chapters yet to come.
Strangely – or not so strange, this is my mind after all – today I’m reminded of the Keanu Reeves interview where he was asked what happens when we die. His answer was simple: “The ones who love us will miss us.”
That got me wondering how many would miss me when I’m gone. It made me wonder, too – how would death come?
Oh death! When you find me I hope you won’t find me bitter or angry sorrowful and hopeless blaming the world for my despair or filled with regrets unforgiving and cruel to myself
I hope when you find me I have lived a life of meaning built with purpose found contentment in the simple surrounded myself with warmth and shared joy that I have loved and lost well I have laughed and cried with abandon I have fought when I needed to made peace where I could
I hope when you find me I have nothing but gratitude left I have lived, alive and well.
Shoes are funny things. We buy them for comfort, for style, or sometimes simply because we need a new pair.
But every now and then, a pair of shoes becomes more than footwear. They become witnesses. Companions. Silent keepers of our stories.
When I came across the writing prompt—“Tell us about your favorite pair of shoes, and where they’ve taken you”—my mind didn’t wander through a closet full of options. It went straight to one unforgettable pair: my golden wedding shoes.
They weren’t subtle. They weren’t sensible. And they certainly weren’t something I would normally pick.
Yet somehow, they ended up walking me through the most defining chapters of my life.
A Choice That Sparkled
I bought those shoes exactly one week before my wedding. Like most soon-to-be grooms, I was caught between excitement and quiet panic.
Marriage felt like a beautiful promise wrapped in uncertainty, and I suppose I was searching for something—anything—that felt reassuring.
That’s when I saw them. Sitting confidently on a shelf, glowing brighter than everything else in the store, was a pair of golden shoes.
They were bold, almost audacious. I tried them on out of curiosity, and to my surprise, they fit perfectly—as if they had been waiting for me.
Back home, the reactions were immediate and dramatic. My siblings laughed, questioned my sanity, and openly mocked my “fashion experiment.”
My fiancée was the toughest critic of all. She felt they were far too flashy for someone with my otherwise sober personality.
But something inside me refused to budge. I didn’t have a logical explanation—I just knew these were my shoes.
Walking Into Fortune
I wore the golden shoes for the first time on my wedding day. As I walked toward the ceremony, my heart raced, my palms were damp, and my mind was full of prayers and hope.
The shoes carried me through every ritual, every smile, and every nervous step into married life.
What I didn’t know then was that they would quietly accompany me through many other turning points.
Over time, I began to notice a pattern. Whenever I wore those shoes, things seemed to work out—sometimes in ways I couldn’t have planned.
I wore them to a job interview that could change my career. The questions were tough, the competition fierce, but I felt unusually calm and confident that day.
I walked out with a promotion I had been chasing for years.
Another time, I wore them while traveling for an important business meeting. When the train unexpectedly broke down, panic set in. Missing the meeting felt inevitable—until a fellow passenger offered me a ride.
That chance conversation turned into a valuable professional connection and a major opportunity for my branch.
Superstition? Maybe. But confidence has a funny way of dressing itself up, and for me, it came wrapped in gold.
When Shoes Grow Old
Years passed, and life moved on—as it always does. The shine of the golden shoes faded.
The soles thinned. They became too fragile to wear, but never insignificant enough to discard.
Then one day, while I was away on a work trip, my wife decided to declutter the house. She found the old, battered shoes and, unable to see what I saw in them, donated them to the washerman.
When I returned and heard what had happened, I didn’t argue or explain. I simply rushed to get them back.
The washerman stared at me in disbelief as I pressed money into his hand and reclaimed my worn-out treasure. Why would anyone want shoes that had clearly reached the end of their life?
Because their life wasn’t over to me.
More Than Just Footwear
Today, those golden shoes sit quietly in a corner of my home. I don’t wear them anymore, but I see them often.
They remind me of courage, instinct, and the strange magic of trusting your own choices—even when others doubt them.
They remind me that sometimes, it’s the unconventional decisions that carry us to the most meaningful destinations.
Shoes take us places, yes—but some also carry the weight of who we were when we wore them.
If you have a favorite pair tucked away somewhere, don’t dismiss them too easily. They may just be holding the memory of your own golden moments, waiting to be remembered.
After all, the greatest journeys often begin with a single step—and the right pair of shoes.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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A few days ago I said to Kuya, “Let’s catch some of your fish and cook them,” to which he said, “No!” I think next time I will say, Kuya, let’s make an extension of your fishpond, since they are growing in numbers now. We’ve seen baby fish already; however, the water is green, so my apology, they aren’t transparent enough to see our darling fish. You can only see their moves.
Yesterday, Aparna and I talked about the fish, and she wished I would make a video of them and blog here. Hence, this post is dedicated to my dear Aparna.
I think you like the brevity of my post today, too. Alright, enjoy your Thursday, my amazing readers. Thank you so much for all your support. Stay kindhearted!
Thanks to seeing this on Rebuilding Rob’s blog, I also am using Eric Foltin‘s prompt for today. Eric, I tried to subscribe by the way but it wouldn’t let me! I hope it’s okay that I’m hijacking your prompt. What responsibility did you think would be gone by now?
Anyone who is a seasoned parent, and maybe some of you who aren’t all that seasoned, might laugh at this, but when I first became a parent in 2001, I honestly thought that once your kids grow up and turn 18, your job is done. Parenting over. Finito.
I thought that once they become “adults”, you can bow out and they completely take over running every aspect of their lives.
I know this now, to be completely foolish. My oldest kid is just a few months shy of 25. Just the other day as I was about to fall asleep she messaged me and asked for my Bluecross health plan information as she was filling a prescription and didn’t want to have to pay.
I just can’t shake them. They’re like puppies with their teeth in my pantleg. Don’t get me wrong, all three of the older kids are in their own ways, making their way in the world but it really surprises me just how much they still rely on me.
I’m not complaining. Not really. Maybe I am a bit. But will they ever actually go away? Just come to visit not needing something. Call to see what I’m doing and not because I need to rescue them?
This is what you sign up for I guess. I had no idea.
A nostalgic reflection on enduring love, this poem captures the joy of youth, the intimacy of shared moments, and the timeless connection that persists even when apart.
# Memories I Keep #
Oh, those days we laughed so free, When youth was ours—just you and me. Love’s season glowed, a golden light, Each moment stretched, forever bright.
I lingered in the curve of your smile, Each glance from you worth every mile. You floated in my words, soft and sweet, I found you in silence, my heart’s retreat.
Though apart, you felt so near, In every dream, it’s only you I hear. Time moved on, and the world spun wide, But my love stayed steady, never to hide.
Even now, when your face I see, Those old sweet seasons return to me. Our journey of love, tender and deep, Still touches my soul, in memories I keep.
I’m convinced that one day I’ll have to sell a body part just to afford a doctor’s visit. Or plead with this body not to fall ill even when it’s clearly breaking down The expense is bewildering.
It reminds me of when my son was very young and needed stitches after a playground injury. Then came the dressings as it healed. Finally, it was just a band-aid. And the band-aid cost ₹500 I could forget the injury, but not the cost of the band-aid. Like I said, it won’t be long before we’re trading one body part for another.
That’s the evolution of life, I suppose.
My daughter reminds me frequently that, according to her, I belong to the prehistoric age. To her, even the 90s are ancient. She shows me features on the phone and random app tricks, and I’m amazed at how quickly they master all the unnecessary things. The other day she showed me a simple feature on WhatsApp I didn’t even know existed. In my defense, I use my phone for basic needs and ignore most apps. But, if I’m to survive in Gen Alpha’s world, I’ll need to catch up.
Earlier today, I came across a message that’s been lingering in my mind. It spoke about kindness – how we can be kind to strangers and animals, but the real test of character is how kind we are to the people we live with daily. What we do outside, it claimed, is often image management.
To a certain degree, that feels true.
We’re constantly bombarded with public acts of kindness. People feel the need to film or document their good deeds. I do think that has its positives – it highlights hardship, draws attention to need, and sometimes inspires others. But there’s also the danger of it becoming performative.
And yet, not all kindness is staged. There are people who quietly extend compassion to strangers and animals without fanfare or applause. If you ask me, it isn’t always image management.
Still, I tend to agree that genuine kindness reveals itself most clearly within the walls of our own homes. I’m frequently convicted here – this is a major shortcoming. It’s far easier to be patient, polite, and generous with people we may never see again than with the ones we share our everyday lives with.
That is a bitter pill to swallow.
And, the so-called day of love is around the corner. I wouldn’t have remembered if not for the marketing hype announcing it everywhere.
If kindness becomes performance, and love becomes marketing, then what are we actually offering each other?
A thought I’m running with, are all relationships transactional?
I hope this blog finds you cheerful. Today’s writing prompt is intriguing: What is your approach to budgeting?
Budgeting is not just about restricting expenses; it’s about making intentional choices that align with your financial goals and lifestyle.
Over the years, I have developed a budgeting approach that balances discipline with flexibility, ensuring financial security while allowing room for joy and spontaneity.
Let me take you through my personal budgeting philosophy and strategies that have helped me achieve peace of mind.
Understanding the Purpose of a Budget
Many people think of a budget as a financial cage, but I see it as a roadmap. It is a tool that helps you allocate resources wisely, avoid unnecessary debt, and create a financial cushion for the future.
A well-structured budget empowers you to enjoy life without financial stress.
The 50/30/20 Rule – My Foundation
One of the most effective and straightforward budgeting methods I follow is the 50/30/20 rule:
50% for Needs – This includes essential expenses such as rent or EMI, utilities, groceries, insurance, and medical bills. These are non-negotiable aspects of financial stability.
30% for Wants – This portion covers lifestyle choices, entertainment, dining out, travel, and hobbies. Life should be enjoyable, and this category ensures that budgeting does not feel like a punishment.
20% for Savings and Debt Repayment – This includes savings for emergencies, investments, and paying off any loans. A habit of saving ensures financial resilience.
By following this approach, I ensure that my finances are well-balanced and aligned with my priorities.
Tracking Expenses – The Key to Awareness
A budget is only as effective as your awareness of spending habits. I use a simple yet powerful approach:
Mobile Budgeting Apps – Apps like Mint, YNAB (You Need a Budget), or even a simple spreadsheet help me track expenses .
Reviewing Monthly Statements – At the end of each month, I review my bank and credit card statements to identify patterns and adjust spending habits accordingly.
Cash Envelope System for Discretionary Spending – I allocate a fixed amount for entertainment and miscellaneous expenses in cash. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. This prevents impulse spending.
Emergency Fund – The Safety Net
Life is unpredictable, and financial emergencies can arise at any time. I make it a point to set aside at least six months’ worth of expenses in an easily accessible account.
This fund is for true emergencies, such as medical issues, unexpected repairs, or job loss.
Having an emergency fund brings peace of mind and prevents panic-driven financial decisions.
Investing for the Future
A budget should not just focus on current expenses but also on future growth. I allocate a portion of my income to investments, ensuring that my money works for me. This includes:
Retirement Funds (Pension, 401(k), or PPF)
Mutual Funds and Stocks for Long-Term Growth
Fixed Deposits for Stability
Cutting Unnecessary Expenses
One of the best ways to stick to a budget is by eliminating wasteful spending. Some strategies I follow include:
Cooking at Home Instead of Frequent Dining Out
Canceling Unused Subscriptions
Using Public Transport or Carpooling
Buying in Bulk for Essentials
These small adjustments make a big difference in saving money without sacrificing comfort.
Flexibility – A Budget Should Evolve
While discipline is crucial, a budget should not be rigid. Life changes, and so should your financial plan.
I revisit my budget every quarter and make necessary modifications based on my income, expenses, and personal goals.
Yes, Budgeting is a lifestyle choice
Budgeting is a lifestyle choice that empowers you to live within your means while preparing for the future.
My approach—combining structure with adaptability—has helped me achieve financial stability without feeling deprived.
I encourage you to embrace budgeting as a positive tool for financial freedom. What is your approach to budgeting? Let’s discuss this in the comments.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I checked my answer a year ago for this question, but I realized I have a different perspective about it now.
I dream of having a cabin in the mountain, but a dream home? For me, it’s a home where my mind is at peace and my heart is full of love. I think I’d like to say that I’m living in my dream home now with my family and pets. They are my daily joy. Yes, my life isn’t perfect, but I see so many blessings that my heart is full of gratitude.
I take photos every day of my family, pets, and nature, and I’ll share some of them here now.
NephewNiece Jidi and her babiesPaoloSisi and her babiesSunrise today
Last month, I took this video that shows my simple life in my (considered) dream home. This is life, and every day is a chance to live fully!
Thank you so much, my amazing readers. Stay blessed and beautiful. Happy Wednesday!
Don’t you hate it when you think of something to write about in the early morning hours but you don’t want to risk waking the tiny baby sleeping beside you, to reach for your phone and put it in your notes, and later it’s vanished from your brain?
Yeah, me too.
If I could have written the prompt today I would have asked, “when you read other’s blogs, do you read just the post or do you read all of the comments as well?”
I am not a comment reader. Just a post reader. Unless it’s one of my posts of course. The odd time if I have made a comment on another post, I might read the other comments as well, although not usually.
I’m curious if others do.
It’s similar to reading all the comments under a social media post or checking to see who “liked” the post. Clint does this and I find it annoying, actually my Dad does too. Nothing better to do I guess. Or really nosey.
Ugghh these roots!! Been wearing a hat everyday at work. Hair appointment is Thurs, thank god
Most of us don’t remember the moment we were first asked to choose. Not really.
It rarely felt like a choice anyway – more like a direction quietly decided for us, shaped by expectation, fear, and what was considered “safe.”
As the 12th board exams get underway, my teen – along with lakhs of students across the country – appears with hopes and dreams of creating a better future for themselves and making an impact in the world around them.
I hold that hope for them.
And yet, I silently remain skeptical of our education system.
The 12th board exam is an important milestone – a doorway to realising those dreams and a step towards reaching those goals. My skepticism stems from the feeling that our education system remains largely one-dimensional. Career pathways are limited, focusing on a few professions while overlooking real-life skills and experiences.
After the 10th, students have to choose between three streams – Arts (now referred to as Humanities), Science, and Commerce – depending on what they wish to pursue. Science and Commerce are relatively straightforward, often pointing towards careers in medicine, engineering, or the financial sector.
Humanities, on the other hand, is vast. Its possibilities are wide-ranging, yet it remains the least acknowledged and recognised – despite opening pathways across multiple sectors and professions that quietly sustain society.
The problem with our education system is its overwhelming focus on corporate employment. We are not empowering our children to see that there are meaningful and viable career paths beyond the corporate sector.
I fully understand why our children study hard to secure jobs in large corporations, and I am not challenging that aspiration. What I wish for instead is an education system that prepares our children for the real world – one that recognises there is so much more beyond white-collar jobs.
More importantly, I wish our children were employable after the 12th itself.
Our schools and colleges have not – and still do not – adequately equip children for the realities of the world beyond classrooms. Time and again, we see that what we study and the work we eventually do are often poles apart.
Why hasn’t our education system, particularly at the college level, moved with the times?
I am not idealistic enough to believe that creativity alone is sufficient for sustenance. Talent, however gifted one may be, is rarely enough by itself. I am practical and realistic in recognising that depending solely on certain pursuits – for instance, the performing arts – may not always provide financial stability.
However, I do believe that if colleges offered a wider range of subjects and allowed students to choose meaningful combinations, many would opt to pursue their passions alongside something practical.
The world we live in today is far more open to talent and skill than it was for previous generations. Opportunities and possibilities have expanded. We all know that in the past, choices were limited – the ‘brainy’ ones opted for Science, which almost automatically meant becoming a doctor or an engineer, while Arts or Humanities were often dismissed as options for the ‘duds’ .
No points in guessing what I opted for .
For many today, hobbies have evolved into professions, and we do see people ‘living out their passion’. I am not advocating that everyone can or should do this. Living out one’s passion requires immense hard work and dedication, and it certainly does not come easy. It is not for the faint-hearted.
What I am advocating for is an education system that is a little more flexible, engaging, and responsive – less staid and rigid.
What if colleges offered more skill-based learning, equipping students for a wider range of occupations?
What if students had access to meaningful employment opportunities after the 12th itself?
I believe being employable after the 12th would be one of the greatest blessings for many families. There are genuine reasons why students discontinue or drop out after the 12th, yet this qualification alone is often insufficient to secure what we call a ‘white-collar’ job.
To digress briefly, India has a high college dropout rate. According to the National University of Educational Planning and Administration (NUEPA), nearly 25 per cent of students who enrol in higher education do not complete their degrees (source: Edex Live, The Indian Express).
This concern begins even earlier. As per the UDISE+ 2021–22 report, the overall dropout rate at the secondary level stands at 12.6 per cent (source: India Today).
We live in a country deeply obsessed with grades and degrees. We often equate intelligence with formal qualifications – the higher the degree, the more intelligent the individual is perceived to be. Graduation has become the basic requirement for employment; anything less is often deemed insufficient for a ‘professional’ job.
This rigid framework leaves little room for exploration or course correction.
According to a study titled Determinants of Student Dropouts in Higher Education by Bharat Chandra Rout, dissatisfaction with the chosen course is one of the primary reasons students drop out. The study also highlights the perceived lack of education quality and its usefulness in securing employment as significant factors. Another key reason cited is the limited opportunity to transfer between courses or institutions.
This raises an important question: isn’t this reason enough to re-think how colleges offer courses?
If we want our children to grow into self-sufficient, well-rounded individuals, then our education system must equip them in ways that genuinely empower and prepare them for the real world and for gainful employment.
Some may argue that we already have government-run vocational institutes such as ITIs, or private institutions like Don Bosco. While these do serve a purpose, they are clearly not enough and remain limited in reach for a growing and young population such as ours.
According to data from the International Labour Organization (ILO), the Indian labour force is set to grow by over 8 million people annually over the coming decade, largely driven by young people entering the workforce.
That is a staggering number.
The question then becomes – where will meaningful employment come from if our youth are not equipped with relevant skills?
What if we integrated more informal or technical learning – carpentry, woodworking, metalwork, agriculture, cosmetology, automobile repair, electrical work, and the like – into formal education, similar to models seen in some Western countries?
This would offer children more options while also setting them up for practical success.
Beyond employability, such an approach also helps build dignity of labour. When education expands its definition of success beyond corporate or professional roles, we empower children to see multiple ways of starting out in life. This opens avenues for self-employment, entrepreneurship, and sustainable livelihoods.
A tea stall vendor or a local car service centre owner, for instance, is also running a business. These may not be sprawling enterprises with swanky office spaces, but they are businesses nonetheless.
Yet, this is precisely where we fail to dignify labour – equating corporate jobs with success while viewing anything ‘less than’ as menial or degrading.
As a mother, I can only hope and wish that our education system – from primary through secondary levels – undergoes a much-needed overhaul. While there have been cosmetic changes over the years, the core of the system remains largely unchanged.
If policymakers truly believe that our children are the future – the ones who will carry this nation forward – then we must take a serious look at how they are educated. Let us move beyond counting the number of literates, and instead focus on the quality of education that can bring about meaningful change.
If we hope to stem the brain drain, then both what we teach and how we teach our children must be treated as a matter of urgency.
According to the National Education Policy (NEP), the structure of undergraduate programmes appears promising.
Hello dear friends, I hope this Blog finds you in a Happy mood.
Happiness.
Yes, What does it really mean to be happy? For some, happiness seems like a distant, elusive peak only reached through major life changes or extraordinary luck.
But the truth, grounded in both scientific research and the wisdom of everyday experience, is that happiness is often born in small choices, daily habits, and a gentle shift in perspective.
Here’s an upbeat exploration of practical, proven ways to invite more joy into each day—and cultivate lasting happiness right now.
Discover the Science Behind Your Smile
Let’s start with a fascinating fact: the neurotransmitter serotonin is often called the “feel-good” hormone for good reason—it regulates mood, sleep, appetite, and many of the things that make life delightful.
When serotonin levels are healthy, people feel happier, more focused, and resilient in the face of challenges.
The best news? You don’t need medication to nurture serotonin; it responds gladly to your day-to-day habits.
Elevate Your Mood—Naturally
The simplest activities can be transformative. Start your day with a splash of sunlight; just 10–15 minutes outdoors boosts serotonin naturally.
Pair that with physical exercise—be it dancing, cycling, jogging, or even a brisk walk. Movement not only energizes the body but also calms the mind and brightens the spirit.
Never underestimate the power of laughter. Share a funny story, watch a comedy, or simply smile at someone on the street—science shows your brain releases feel-good chemicals the moment you laugh or grin!
Tune Your Mind with Mindfulness
Meditation and deep breathing aren’t just for mystics—they are powerful, evidence-based ways to shrink anxiety and open the door to happiness.
When people sit quietly, focus on their breath, and let the worries drift by, levels of stress hormones drop and happiness rises.
Even five minutes a day is enough to begin changing brain patterns for the better.
Try gratitude journaling. Each evening, jot down three things that went well or moments that made you smile.
This potent habit actually shifts your brain’s wiring to notice more good and savor life’s small victories.
Social Connections and Small Kindnesses
Happiness often blooms in connection. Meet a friend for a chat, volunteer, or lend a hand to a neighbor.
Even quick, positive interactions—like thanking a cashier or petting a dog—fill the brain with rewarding hormones, reinforcing feelings of belonging and joy.
Never forget: practicing kindness is a proven shortcut to a happier life.
Savor Life’s Simple Delights
Happiness can be found in a bowl of comfort food (think: oats, fruits, or a square of dark chocolate), a walk in a garden, listening to your favorite music, or getting creative with arts and crafts.
Gardening, painting, and even mindful eating invite peace, purpose, and joy.
Choose fragrances or colors that evoke happy memories, or engage in hobbies that help you feel most like yourself—this is your unique recipe for happiness.
Step Back From Negativity
It’s natural for moods to ebb and flow. Sometimes, negative thoughts or feelings sneak in with no clear reason—maybe it’s just hormones doing their thing, or the pace of modern life catching up.
Instead of wrestling with low moments or blaming yourself, pause and treat yourself with compassion.
Use techniques like mindfulness, visualization, or simply remembering a happy moment.
These steps don’t ignore stress or sadness; they gently invite you back to the present, where happiness grows.
Live For Today
In the grand theatre of life, today is the only stage. Yesterday’s regrets and tomorrow’s uncertainties cannot rob joy unless they’re allowed to.
Choose to give energy to this present moment. Whether it’s taking a cold shower, practicing yoga, exploring nature, or simply pausing for a deep breath—these acts are powerful declarations that happiness truly begins now.
So, embrace the day—live it and enjoy it.
Happiness isn’t about changing everything at once. It’s about appreciating the little things, being thankful, being kind to yourself and others, and choosing joy.
whenever you can. Smile, reach out, and let happiness grow. The day is yours!
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I trust this blog post finds you in good health and high spirits. I’ve always found the daily prompt writing questions quite intriguing. So, here’s once again an interesting for you: “Have you ever unintentionally broken the law?”
Well, my friends, I must admit, I find myself doing it almost every day. But fear not, it’s all in good humor. Yes, my philosophy is that — “laws are made to be broken “—just kidding.
Sometimes, circumstances force to break the law
There are times when circumstances force you to unintentionally break the law. However, it’s crucial to ensure that no harm is done to others.
I’ve had several instances where I found myself unintentionally breaking the law. One particular incident comes to mind, and I’d like to share it with all of you.
Having spent the majority of my banking career in Kolkata, working in different branches over 11 years, I’ve had my fair share of experiences.
Now, in my retired days, I often reminisce about the memorable moments, some of which involve unintentionally breaking the law.
These incidents never fail to bring a smile to my face, especially in today’s stressful times when a little laughter can go a long way.
Sharing one such memory from my past
Let me share one such memory from my past. This story takes place during my posting at the Shyambazar branch.
I was residing alone in the Bansdroni area of Kolkata, and my primary mode of commuting to the office was the Metro Rail — a very comfortable compared to the chaotic bus journeys filled with pollution.
On one occasion, my family was in Bardhaman, and I had to travel between Bardhaman and Kolkata for a month.
The local train journey from Bardhaman to Kolkata was about an hour. It was a unique experience for me, and this journey was scheduled for December 31, the last day of the year, as I had to reach Bardhaman by 6.00 PM.
With a New Year stage show planned for my granddaughter, I left the office early at 4:00 PM and reached Howrah station via a steamer across the river.
Little did I know that this journey would involve unintentionally breaking the law.
Pickpocketing my mobile phone at the Railway Station
While waiting in line to buy a train ticket at the counter, someone opportunistically took away my mobile phone from my pocket. Despite my attempts to chase after the thief, he vanished into the chaos of the station.
Distressed and without a ticket, I knew I had to reach Bardhaman in time for my granddaughter’s function, and waiting for the next train was not an option.
Without much thought, I headed towards platform six, where the local trains usually departed. Upon reaching the platform,
I saw the train slowly gaining speed. Without hesitation, I managed to board the moving train, finding a bit of space to sit in the crowded compartments.
As I sat down, closed my eyes, and mourned the loss of my mobile phone, the train continued on its journey. My mind was occupied with thoughts of what to do after losing the phone.
When I eventually opened my eyes and checked my watch, I realized an hour of the journey had passed, and Bardhaman station would soon be approaching.
Curious, I asked a fellow passenger about the time it would take to reach Bardhaman.
To my surprise, they informed me that this train was heading to Midnapore, not Bardhaman. The route to Bardhaman was in the opposite direction.
I was shocked to know that
Shocked, I inquired if this train was the Bardhaman local, to which the passenger replied, “No, this is the Midnapore local. You’ll have to get off at the next station, Mecheda, and then take a local bus to reach Bardhaman.”
Now I was in trouble again, the fear of a fine for boarding the wrong train without a ticket haunted me,
considering I had already been fined once at Bardhaman. A kind fellow passenger assured me that he would help me get out of the station and onto the road outside to avoid the fine.
Despite the fear of consequences, I thanked the helpful passenger, who safely guided me out of the station.
A small bus stand awaited me, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The rest of the journey involved a local bus ride on bumpy village roads, experiencing the unique charm of a “loose bones” feeling on that local bus jumping.
I reached home by 10 PM, missing the function, and everyone was surprised at my unusually late arrival.
When questioned about the delay, I couldn’t reveal the truth of accidentally boarding the wrong train. So, I crafted a fictional story, claiming, “Big officials visited the bank, causing the delay.”
Inwardly, I thought, “Today was indeed an unlucky day for me, but despite the delay, I safely reached my destination.”
Whenever I remember this incident, I can’t help but smile. I hope you enjoyed this amusing tale of unintentionally breaking the law.
Please feel free to share your feelings as well.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I dropped a message in our family group chat this morning saying, “Good morning. How are you there? Is the chocolate package ready?” My brother-in-law replied jokingly, “The bundle of laundry is ready.”
Their flight is tomorrow, and I hope that we can celebrate their homecoming before my youngest sister moves for work to the other island. I want my whole family to gather again after almost a year of being away. Praying for all the sick in the world and that love abounds in each home.
Anyway, I managed to walk this morning after I cooked all our viands. It is cloudy today, but I was glad I saw a lovely sunrise shortly because it quickly changed to gloomy weather. I love the tranquil scene before the village starts to be loud. The ducklings made me smile in this video. There are also cows and carabaos in the background. It was still dark because it was before six.
Happy Tuesday, my amazing readers. Thank you so much for your loving support. Stay incredible!
Left work 2:45 early to make up for the three hours I worked yesterday.
The new mattress was on the porch when I got home.
So spent about forty-five of ‘my’ three hours removing the old mattress, repairing the bed frame (until the new one arrives), and installing the new mattress.
Social media gets a bad rap and for good reason sometimes. It can take up too much of our time. It really plays into the no-no of comparing our lives to others. It’s, at times, just absolute brain rot.
But there are some really good gems that I would not be aware of, if not for social media. Honestly.
For starters, some pages I follow about mental health and specifically anxiety, have showed me that I am not my thoughts. Also, the nuances of anxiety and that it’s so much more than a nervous feeling. The intrusive thoughts can be because of anxiety. Bottom line, anxiety fools you and lies to you.
Secondly, in terms of relationships, there are so many interesting facts on social media. For example, and I am so guilty of this, there’s a bump in the road, an argument, or just a disagreement and I’m ready to cut and run. That’s an actual thing. An actual response because of whatever I’ve previously been through. I did not know until I read on Instagram that other people experience this too. It’s probably impossible to be in a relationship where there is smooth sailing one hundred percent of the time. Impossible. But just because there are rough waves that doesn’t mean you need to abandon ship. I love Instagram for this.
I’ve read a multitude of quotes on Pinterest about radical acceptance and I share them with my kids. Okay, I had heard of radical acceptance outside of Pinterest but sometimes I need daily or weekly reminders to accept accept accept and not resist. I’m so happy Pinterest is there for me like this.
Celebrating a birthday old school: I’m far left, my younger sister middle and big sis far right, Mom in back
Welcome to a glimpse into my artistic journey—a path shaped by colors, curiosity, and constant self-discovery.
Art, for me, is not just a skill or a hobby; it is a companion that has walked with me through different phases of life, patiently waiting to be rediscovered.
Let me take you through the story behind my passion for drawing and painting.
A Childhood Fascination with Art
My love for art began in childhood. I was endlessly fascinated by colors, shapes, and forms, often spending hours sketching and experimenting with crayons and pencils.
Those early moments of creation brought me immense joy, even though I had no idea at the time that this simple pastime would one day become my greatest passion.
Art was instinctive then—pure, playful, and full of wonder.
Rediscovering Art After Retirement
Life, however, led me down a different path. I pursued a long and structured career in banking, where discipline and numbers ruled the day.
While the profession was rewarding, creativity quietly took a back seat. After retirement, I felt an unexpected void—an urge to reconnect with something deeply personal and fulfilling.
That was when I picked up the brush again. What began as a casual attempt soon reignited my love for art, reminding me of a part of myself I had almost forgotten.
My First Masterpiece
One of my earliest creations after returning to art was a simple landscape. It may not have been technically perfect, but it marked the beginning of something profound.
That painting symbolized courage—the courage to begin again. It was deeply personal and emotionally meaningful, setting the foundation for everything that followed.
Learning and Experimenting
Art, I soon realized, is an endless journey of learning. I began experimenting with different styles—abstract, realistic, and minimalistic—allowing myself the freedom to explore without fear of failure.
With every new technique and every unfinished piece, I grew more confident. Each experiment taught me something new, not just about art, but about myself.
Overcoming Creative Blocks
Like every artist, I encountered creative blocks. There were days when inspiration felt distant and the canvas remained silent. Instead of resisting these moments,
I learned to embrace them. Nature, music, memories, and emotions became my sources of inspiration.
Each creative block taught me resilience and reminded me that pauses are just as important as progress.
Nature as My Muse
Nature has always been my greatest teacher and muse. The changing skies, blooming flowers, quiet landscapes, and shifting light find their way into my work.
Nature reminds me of life’s vibrancy, balance, and impermanence—elements that deeply influence my artistic expression.
The Joy of Abstract Art
Abstract art, in particular, has given me unparalleled freedom. It allows emotions to take the lead, unrestricted by form or structure.
Every brushstroke becomes a conversation between the mind and the soul. Through abstraction, I’ve learned to let go, trust the process, and find beauty in unpredictability.
Art as a Way of Life
Today, art is no longer just something I do—it is a way of life. It brings me peace, purpose, and endless curiosity.
My journey proves that it’s never too late to rediscover your passion or begin anew.
This artistic path continues to evolve, and I’m grateful for every color, every lesson, and every moment it brings. After all, life itself is the greatest canvas of all.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?
To be honest, I don’t know if I’ve outgrown or lost interest in anything. I’m here cruising or crashing, down this road called life. What is still going strong is my wacky humor, that’s questionable timing and not universally appreciated, my unhealthy penchant for memes and fart-related love stories .
I recently came across a story I’d read before and had to share it. You can’t convince me flatulence isn’t the ideal match maker. For all those looking for your forever after, bring on the flatulence . Oh and the meme is for all my friends buried in the snow and freezing..oopsie
Like everything in life, farts have a time and place. However, I never realized that in the wrong time and place, flatulence had enough power to alter my course in history. Well, it can if it’s the third date with the man of your dreams. And, if it makes his eyes burn. If God destined us to be together, I was one SBD away from foiling His plans (that’s “Silent But Deadly” for you prudes).
It was about five years ago. I was trying to lose a few pounds so I was staying away from carbs. That’s when I met my husband, Rob. On our first date, he booked the next two. He liked me. I liked him. Things were looking real good.
He picked me up in a Cobra, Mustang and his pathetic attempt to win me over with a car totally worked. I’m not shallow, but since I spent most of my twenties picking men up because I didn’t want my hair to frizz in their non-air conditioned jalopies on 3 wheels and a 15 year old spare, I welcomed his fancy sports car with open arms.
We arrived at the restaurant and Rob was ordering food I hadn’t allowed myself to eat in years. I didn’t want to be “that girl” so I ate, drank, and oh, was I merry. Later we shopped a bit. Rob surprised me by buying an expensive pair of shoes that he caught me eyeing. Was this love?
That’s when it happened. Gas strikes in two different ways – uncontrollable toots or sharp, shooting pains that feel a lot like dying. I thought I was dying. Not to make a scene, I told Rob I suddenly wasn’t feeling well and probably needed to head home.
On the way home in his Cobra, he tried to hold my hand and ask me lots of questions, but I wasn’t having any of it. The pain was so bad it felt like I was being stabbed with a bunch of tiny forks. Then I realized …
My God, help me. I have a horrendous fart on deck. I’m in trouble. Big trouble.
HOW DO YOU TELL A MAN YOU JUST STARTED DATING, THAT THE REASON YOU ARE WRITHING IN PAIN IS BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO FART.
The more I held it in, the more pain would shoot through my stomach and down my legs. I was even having to raise myself off the seat, gripping on to my door and the dashboard.
“Seriously, you need to hurry – I’m in a lot of pain.” I managed to say through gritted teeth.
“Wow, it’s that bad? What’s wrong? Do I need to take you to a hospital?”
How do you tell a man you just started dating that the reason you’re writhing in pain is because you have to fart?
Well, you can either tell him, or like me, let the fart speak for itself.
People, hear me. There was nothing I could do. As impressive as I am with sphincter control, this was out of my hands. Slowly, it eeked out. The more I tried to stop it, the more it forced its way through the door. However, to my pleasant surprise, there was no sound. I sat silently, sweat accumulating above my upper lip. Ok, maybe I got away with it. Maybe I’m home free. Then it hit me. Not an idea, a cloud. A horrific, fart cloud. Not in a, “am I smelling something?” sort of way. More like a “is someone dead and rotting in your trunk and am I in hell?” sort of way.
Suddenly, I panicked. “Roll down the windows!” I screamed (yes, I literally screamed it like I was in a horror movie).
“What? Why?” Rob asked, starting to freak out because I was freaking out.
“I can’t roll down the windows, unlock it! UNLOCK IT!”
“What’s going on?” Rob yells back to me, “Why are you …” then it hit him. I could see it in his eyes. Was it surprise? Horror? Water started to accumulate at the base of his eyelids, “Oh my God, I CAN TASTE IT!” he screamed.
“Roll down the windows!” As I screamed, the toots started to flood out uncontrollably. I scratched and clawed at the window like I was being kidnapped. Rob, unable to see either by fart cloud or panic, kept turning on the windshield wipers instead of unlocking the window.
It was chaos. We were acting like we were under siege by gun fire. We were under siege alright, just not by gun fire.
Finally he was able to hit the right control and he rolled down our windows. We both gulped in fresh air. I was horrified, yet happy to be alive, then remembered I just farted on the man of dreams, then sorta wished I was dead.
We sat silently for the rest of the way home. Although the shooting pains had subsided, I now desperately needed to use the bathroom, in an urgent, explosive kind of way.
He pulled up to my apartment and before he could come to a stop I had already jumped out, “Ok, thanks for dinner, sorry about the fart, love the shoes!” and ran in to my apartment like I was running from the cops.
I burst through my door and ran straight for the bathroom, where I was finally able to unleash and make noises that no one should ever, EVER, hear coming from another person.
Then I heard it. Rob’s voice. Right. Outside. My. Bathroom. Door.
“Anna? You left your shoes in my car and your front door was open. Where do you want me to put them?”
“Get away from the door!” I scream like Reagan from The Exorcist.
“Ok, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
*toot* *toot* *splatter* *ungodly noise*
“I’m fine, Rob – just leave the shoes there. I’ll call you later okay?”
“Okay, are you sure you’re …”
“I’m fine! Get away from the door!”
This man! I mean, I love him, but take a freakin’ hint!
Finally, I heard the front door shut, and the Cobra engine zoom away. I thought that was the last I’d hear from him. I didn’t think it was possible to ever see a man again after he screams he can taste your fart after only knowing you for 48 hours.
But, to my surprise, I did. A couple days later, actually. Now we’re married and he’s lying on the couch while I type this … “It was your rack that saved you,” he just lovingly reminded me.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective mood as well.
Today’s prompt—“If you had the power to change one law, what would it be and why?”—is one of those deceptively simple questions that quietly asks us to examine our values, our fears, and our hopes for the future.
Laws are, after all, mirrors of a society’s priorities. To change one is to reshape the story we tell about what matters.
If I had the power to change one law, I would introduce a strong, universal Data Privacy and Digital Rights Law—one that treats personal data not as a corporate asset, but as a fundamental human right.
Digital footprints are more revealing than our diaries
We live in an age where our digital footprints are more revealing than our diaries ever were. Our searches, locations, conversations, preferences, and even moments of vulnerability are constantly being collected, analyzed, bought, and sold.
Often, this happens without our clear understanding or meaningful consent. While technology has given us unprecedented convenience and connection,
it has also quietly shifted power away from individuals and toward institutions that know more about us than we know about them.
The law I would change—or rather, create—would start with a simple principle: your data belongs to you.
Under this law, individuals would have full ownership and control over their personal information.
Companies could only collect data that is strictly necessary to provide a service, and they would be required to explain, in plain language, what they collect, why they collect it, and how long they keep it.
No more twenty-page privacy policies written in legal fog. Consent would be active, informed, and reversible—not buried behind a pre-checked box.
Why does this matter so deeply?
Because privacy is not about having something to hide; it is about having something to protect.
Our thoughts, habits, and identities shape who we are. When these are constantly monitored, people begin to self-censor.
Creativity dulls. Dissent softens. Freedom quietly erodes—not through force, but through surveillance.
There is also a profound inequality embedded in weak data laws. Those with resources can afford tools to protect themselves—paid services, legal help, or the option to opt out.
Everyone else pays with exposure. A strong data rights law would level the playing field, ensuring that protection is not a luxury, but a standard.
This law would also place real accountability on corporations and governments. Heavy penalties for misuse of data, independent audits, and transparent reporting would no longer make privacy an afterthought, but a design requirement.
Innovation would still thrive
Yes, Innovation would still thrive—arguably even more so—because trust is fertile ground for progress. When people feel safe, they engage more openly and creatively with technology.
Critics might argue that such a law would slow business or limit personalization.
But personalization should never come at the cost of autonomy. Convenience is valuable, yes—but it should be a choice, not a trade extracted by default.
A society that prioritizes dignity over profit is not anti-growth; it is pro-human.
Changing a law like this would send a powerful message: that in a rapidly evolving digital world, human values are not obsolete. It would remind us that technology is a tool meant to serve people, not the other way around.
My Final Submission
Ultimately, laws are not just rules; they are moral statements.
A robust data privacy law would say, clearly and confidently, that individuality matters, consent matters, and freedom in the digital age is just as important as freedom in the physical one.
If given the power to change one law, this is the change I would choose—not because it looks backward, but because it protects our future.
In safeguarding our data, we safeguard our voices, our choices, and our right to be fully, authentically human in a connected world.
And that, dear friends, feels like a law worth writing.
BE HAPPY….BE ACTIVE….BE FOCUSED….BE ALIVE…
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A long time ago, I decided that cell phone pictures were not real photography, and were merely intended to capture moments as reminders and viewed only on small screens.
I also use the camera for work stuff, and didn’t need super-gargantuan images for my purposes there.
So when I got my current phone several years ago, I went into the camera preferences and set the image resolution to the lowest available setting: 12MP.
And promptly forgot about it.
Yesterday I accidently discovered / reminded myself that the phone can shoot at 64MP.
Which might come in handy for some of the macro photos I’ve been taking with the phone.
In other words, I’ve been doing it wrong all this time.
To wit:
12MP at 3X zoom on the left, 64MP at 4X zoom on the right. 12MP image sized up to match the 64MP image.
There are some limitiations when shooting 64MP. The camera zooms are limited to 1X, 4X, and 6X, whereas the 12MP mode allows for 1X, 2X, and 3X. There are ways to trick the camera to use 3X with 64MP, but it’s just annoying.
That said, the 4X zoom at 64MP is sharper than the 3X zoom at 12MP. Not really a shock.
But how about zooms of a 1X image?
12MP on the left, 64MP on the right. No obvious difference besides file size.
Zoom in of same region on both. The 64MP image is sharper, but I wager most people won’t notice.
This comparison shows a slightly more obvious difference:
While the crows look virtually indistinguishable, if you view the full size image, the sky in the 12MP picture (left) is mottled and grainy, most likely due to the JPEG compression.
It’s really a mixed bag, nearly a draw when it comes to non-macro photos. Sure, the resolution / ‘grain’ is worse in the 12MP pictures, but it isn’t that noticeable and the file size is about 20% the size of a 64MP image.
But macro is where it really shines. I can’t get images like this with the 12MP resolution:
This was shot at 64MP resolution, and then shrunk to 35% its original size. And yet there is no meaningful loss of detail.
So, assuming I remember to switch modes, I will be taking my closeup shots at 64MP and then downsizing them prior to posting.
Or upgrading my WordPress acccount to get more storage.
But I’m a cheap bastard, so I’ll stick with the resized 64MP images for now.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, work called and I need to deal with some stuff…
I thought it was just starting to get warmer, but I was clearly deluding myself. Step outside at midday and the sun says, Hi, it’s me. I’m back. It’s only the second week of February, and already the story is writing itself – we’re in for another long, hot summer. I wish teleportation were real. I’d happily escape to anywhere pleasant and cold.
The exam season has arrived too. Little girl begins with her mid-terms before the finals, and she too is questioning the sheer number of exams they have. The teen is appearing for his 12th boards. Important, life-defining, future-deciding – yet no one would believe it from his demeanour. I actually like that he isn’t sweating over it.
I don’t know if this will come back to bite us later, but, he isn’t academically inclined. He’s focused on his fitness journey, and we’re exploring appropriate courses. We’ve left it to him to decide whether, at a later stage, he wants to pursue a traditional graduation route.
Personally, I no longer see the point of a degree – especially when job prospects are so bleak. A friend recently shared how skill-based labour is likely to be in far greater demand in the not-so-distant future. Those blue-collar jobs many look down upon are already paying better than so-called white-collar ones. Add to that the rising cost of higher education, and it begins to feel like an investment with very poor returns.
All I want for the children is that they are faithful and sincere in whatever they choose to pursue. I would rather they focus on building skills that empower them than depend entirely on corporate jobs. If one has to slog, my thinking is – slog to build something for yourself rather than spend a lifetime building someone else’s wealth. It may not be a conglomerate, but a small business is still a business.
Yet, my greatest hope is that they don’t make money and materialism their focus. What is the point of wealth if one does not have empathy and generosity? The Bible says it plainly in Mark 8:36 and Matthew 16:26: “What profits a man if he gains the whole world and loses his soul?”
My prayer for them is simple – that they first find their purpose, and whatever they pursue, they do so with intentionality, a heart of service, integrity, and honesty.
-travelled more, BEFORE getting married and having kids
-gone skydiving, I’m way too chicken now and sort of have that mindset where ‘I value my life too much’, even though I’m sure it’s safe
-waterskiing, I had one opportunity at summer camp but something held me back from speaking up and saying ‘I want a turn’
-taken more photos of myself, young people are really good at that these days, thanks to cell phones I guess, I’d love to have a bunch of pics of my 17 year old butt, heck I’d even love to have photos of my 30 year old butt
-wish I had taken choosing my career more seriously and followed my heart (the 6 o’clock news lady is what I would have been)
Really have been box dyeing my hair black forever haven’t I, this is me with dye in my hair in college, 1998
This poem reflects a mature, grounded view of love—one that values presence over performance, steadiness over drama, and quiet devotion over loud promises.
It celebrates love as a safe, freeing space where growth happens naturally.
Quiet Love
Love comes in quiet, soft, and slow, Not roaring flames, but warmth that grows. It feels like peace that knows your name, A steady glow, not chasing flame.
True love is calm, it never races, It listens deep, it gives you space. No grand displays or empty show— Just honest truth in daily flow.
Love is not loud, it does not bind, It roots the heart, it frees the mind. When it is real, your soul will see: It feels like home—both wild and free.
As I’ve been taking my morning walks with the Doggo, I’ve been taking a recorder with me. A Roland R07 recorder paired with Sound Professionals in-ear microphones.
I’ve always been interested in sound and binaural recordings, and this setup allows me to create my own.
The theory is that when you record with in-ear microphones, you’re capturing the sound as a human would naturally hear it, so the recordings are ultra-realistic.
There are people out their who do this professionally, and their recordings are amazing.
I’m strictly amateur, with consumer-grade equipment and not a lot of experience. I’ve been trying to get a good recording of the crows for about three weeks now, and due to time constraints and mystery equipment trouble, finally got to the point of “screw it, this is good enough … for now.”
The inspiration was when I had forty crows swirling and cawing around me. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my recording gear on me when that happened, and since I’ve started recording, I’ve yet to duplicate that intense experience.
So the video embedded below is the tame, low key version of experiencing a frenzied murder. If you do decide to listen, I highly recommend headphones. The experience is much better with them. Like don’t even bother listening without them better.
I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is “What Does Patriotism Mean in Today’s Society?:
Patriotism is a sentiment deeply rooted in love, respect, and commitment to one’s homeland. It transcends borders and political affiliations, manifesting in diverse ways.
Truly, a nation pulsing with potential, where every heartbeat echoes love for the land. In our hyper-connected world of 2026, what does patriotism truly mean?
It’s not dusty anthems or fleeting flag-waving—it’s a roaring fire of action, unity, and bold responsibility.
Far beyond symbolism, patriotism fuels everyday heroes who build bridges, challenge wrongs, and propel their country forward. Let’s dive in and redefine it together!
Shattering the Symbolism Myth
Forget the fireworks spectacle. True patriotism thrives in the gritty trenches of daily life.
It’s the shopkeeper who charges fair prices, the commuter who skips the bribe, and the neighbor who plants a tree amid urban sprawl.
Gandhi nailed it: “The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.”
In India, where diversity dances like Holi colors, patriotism means honoring every thread—Hindu festivals alongside Eid feasts, Tamil poetry beside Punjabi beats—while forging unbreakable unity.
Blind loyalty? Nah. Real patriots wield constructive criticism like a surgeon’s scalpel, cutting out corruption to heal the nation.
Think of the 2024 protests against environmental neglect; voices rose not in rage, but in resolve to safeguard our rivers and forests for tomorrow’s kids.
Reviving Culture’s Vibrant Soul
A nation’s heartbeat? Its heritage. Patriotism ignites when we devour street-side chaat while reciting Tagore, restore crumbling forts like Hampi, or belt out folk songs at village fairs.
In a globalized storm of K-pop and Netflix, we don’t just preserve—we evolve. Teach your niece Bharatanatyam remixed with hip-hop; let her carry our legacy into boardrooms worldwide. This isn’t nostalgia; it’s rocket fuel for identity in a borderless era.
Democracy’s Power Play: Vote, Engage, Transform
Democracy isn’t a spectator sport—it’s your arena! Patriotism means storming the polling booth, dissecting news beyond headlines, and grilling leaders on X or town halls.
Recall Singapore’s model: citizens who vote smart, volunteer en masse, and keep streets spotless, turning a tiny island into a global powerhouse.
In India, from Kashmir’s youth forums to Kerala’s literate debates, active voices ensure our 1.4 billion dreams don’t derail. Why sit on the sidelines when your ballot could spark change?
Society’s Unsung Superheroes
Patriotism peaks in service. That roadside cleanup? A battle against pollution choking our cities. Donating books to slum kids?
During COVID-19, millions masked up, shared oxygen, and clapped for warriors; that was patriotism raw and real.
Simple acts—yielding to ambulances, recycling plastic, mentoring startups—stack into a towering national strength. You’re not just helping; you’re architecting progress.
Global Stage, Local Pride
Today’s patriotism struts globally without superiority. Excel in Olympics gold, ISRO launches, or AI breakthroughs—show the world India’s genius.
Yet, respect flows both ways: collaborate with Japan on green tech, learn from Scandinavia’s welfare wizardry. Hostility? Outdated.
True patriots build alliances, exporting yoga while importing ideas, proving our motto: “Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam” (the world is one family).
Defending Integrity: Your Daily Duty
Soldiers guard borders; we guard the soul. Battle fake news flooding WhatsApp, report graft without fear, and nurture nature—from the Himalayas to the Sundarbans.
Corruption erodes like acid rain; counter it with transparent taxes and ethical votes. Every citizen’s vigilance fortifies the ramparts.
Make It Unstoppable: Patriotism as a Way of Life
Patriotism isn’t a holiday hat—it’s your daily grind toward glory. Honor ancestors’ freedom fight, own today’s duties, blueprint a dazzling future.
Imagine: if every Indian skipped one plastic bag, dodged one shortcut, voted once extra-informed? We’d eclipse superpowers!
Are you patriotic? Gauge it: Do you uplift a stranger? Champion justice? Dream big for Bharat? Yes?
Then you’re the spark. Don’t whisper love—roar it through actions. Let’s transform sentiment into seismic shift. Share your story below: What’s your patriotic fire?
India Rising starts with us. Charge ahead, patriots!
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I actually don’t feel like I need a break right now. I’m in the mood to keep on keepin’ on.
Cordelia and I have established a bit of a routine with baby RR. Neither one of us have been lacking sleep these last couple of nights.
I’ve got a full week under my belt with my new class. We dove head on into the content and I feel like most of them are going to be very strong students.
The weather is much better lately and the days inching longer and longer.
I’m excited for the Superbowl tomorrow, not for the game itself, (I don’t even know who’s playing nor do I care), but it’s a good excuse to make some yummy appies. Also the halftime show is usually cool.
I’m interested to watch the winter Olympics in hopes that Team Canada fares well. I actually really prefer the winter to the summer games. Maybe it’s a northern thing, I don’t know.
I’m also very very please that it’s the weekend. Happy Saturday!
Bella-Lena & Taz checking out the baby calves at my parents back in 2007ish
Yesterday, my little girl asked me what a hypocrite is. After I explained, she then asked – laughing at herself – if she was a hypocrite.
Her questions make me think as much as they bring laughter.
When my daughter innocently wondered whether she might be a hypocrite, the question stayed with me. It reverberated long after the laughter faded. It’s something we’ve all asked ourselves at some point in our lives. If I ask myself again today, I can’t deny it – I am a hypocrite. How many times do I fail to live out my own beliefs and values? How often do I not walk the talk? It’s painful to admit, but when the truth is right in front of me, how long can I keep running from it?
I’ve always believed in the power of principles. Principles help direct and shape our personalities, our mindsets, our decisions – our whole being. But over the years, I’ve also come to feel that they can be idealistic, and not always as realistic as we’d like them to be. Chalk that up to life experience. My belief in principles hasn’t diminished, but I’ve become more cautious about how I weigh and apply them against the realities – and sometimes the brutality – of life. Considering that my shortcomings are more than I can count, I have to remind myself to be more gracious toward the world. I’m also learning to be more gracious and gentle with my children. I may believe deeply in certain values, but I’m not always able to live them out.
The same tension exists with my words. I read a quote by Khaled Hosseini, “And that’s the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too.” I try my best not to be flippant with my words, and to stand behind what I say. There was a time when words spoken and a handshake sealed a deal – mutual understanding and trust were forged. Today, even a contract doesn’t guarantee trust. Why is that so? Are we becoming less trustworthy as a people? Or is it because we no longer believe in principles the way we once did?
As for myself, I live with this contradiction. I still believe in principles and in their power to shape us, even when I fail to live up to them. I want my children to know the importance of values, while I remain a work in progress myself. And perhaps grace is not modeled through consistency, but through honesty.
In the hush of everyday moments, true love reveals itself not in grand declarations, but in the quiet strength of presence and choice. This poem beautifully captures that essence.
# I Define My Love #
I define my love by how I stay, Not by the words I rush to say. It’s in my patience, calm and true, In how I listen, how I choose you.
My love is soft, but never weak, It speaks through actions more than speech. It grows with time, it learns, it bends, And walks beside me—not ahead.
I define my love as steady ground, Where fear grows quiet, hearts feel sound. If love is real, this much is true— I define my love by loving you.
I think I need a break from those animal rescue videos. My heart is so frayed and the rescues just make it worse. I cannot wrap my mind how people can be so cruel and heartless.
Is it possible to take a break from the everyday .
What’s Your Favorite Candy? A Sweet Walk Down Memory Lane
Hello dear friends,
I hope this blog finds you in the most cheerful of moods, perhaps with a warm drink nearby and a small smile already forming.
Today’s writing prompt—“What’s your favorite candy?”—may seem simple at first glance, but it carries a surprising emotional weight.
Candy is never just candy. It is memory wrapped in sugar, nostalgia sealed in colorful paper, and childhood joy that somehow survives well into adulthood.
When we think of our favorite candy, we aren’t only thinking about taste. We are thinking about moments—and for me, that moment has always arrived wrapped in chocolate.
Not the fancy kind, not the imported kind, but the simple, familiar bar that waited patiently at the corner shop, promising comfort without ceremony.
Birthdays where bowls overflowed with wrappers. School days when a single sweet felt like a reward for surviving math class. Festivals, holidays, movie nights, long road trips—candy has always been there, quietly marking time.
My favorite candy was the first thing I ever saved my pocket money for
In our childhood days, for many of us, our favorite candy was the first thing we ever saved our pocket money for.
Standing at the corner shop, carefully counting coins, scanning rows of bright packages as if they held treasure.
The choice mattered. You couldn’t waste your money on something disappointing. That decision—this one or that one—felt monumental.
And when you finally unwrapped your chosen treat, there was a sense of triumph that no adult dessert has ever quite matched.
Chocolate lovers often speak of comfort, and I am unapologetically one of them.
A familiar bar melting slowly, rich and reassuring, like a hug you didn’t know you needed. Chocolate has an almost magical ability to turn bad days around.
It celebrates small victories and softens disappointments. Science may explain the chemistry behind it, but emotionally, chocolate feels like loyalty—it shows up when you need it.
Then there are the fruity candy fans. Gummies, chews, hard candies bursting with artificial fruit flavors that somehow tasted better than real fruit ever did.
These candies were playful and loud, matching the energy of childhood itself. They stained tongues bright colors and made us laugh at the mirror.
They weren’t subtle—and that was the point.
Some favorites were about ritual. Unwrapping slowly. Savoring layer by layer. Breaking pieces evenly to share with siblings or friends.
Others were about rebellion—sneaking an extra piece when no one was looking, or hiding candy under pillows and inside bags like precious contraband.
What makes the question “What’s your favorite candy?” so powerful is that it quietly asks another question: Who were you when you loved it most?
A carefree child? A teenager discovering independence? A tired adult still holding onto a piece of joy from simpler days?
Even today, candy has a way of transporting us, and sometimes I test this theory intentionally—buying that same old chocolate bar, unwrapping it slowly, half-expecting time to fold in on itself.
One bite can pull us backward in time faster than a photograph. Suddenly, you’re back in your grandmother’s house, or on a school playground, or sitting cross-legged on the floor watching cartoons.
The world felt bigger then, and happiness felt closer.
Of course, our tastes may change. What we once adored might now feel too sweet, too sticky, too simple. But the memory remains intact.
And sometimes, returning to that old favorite—just once—isn’t about craving sugar at all. It’s about reconnecting with a version of ourselves who knew how to enjoy small things without guilt.
In a fast-paced world that constantly pushes us toward what’s new, better, and more sophisticated, candy reminds us that joy doesn’t have to be complicated.
Sometimes it comes wrapped in shiny paper, costs very little, and asks only that we slow down long enough to enjoy it.
So, what’s your favorite candy?
Mine may be chocolate, but the real answer is memory. Whatever it is, it’s more than a preference. It’s a story. A memory.
A tiny, sweet reminder that happiness can be simple—and that a part of us will always light up at the promise of something sweet.
And honestly, that’s a kind of magic worth holding onto.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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It was raining all day yesterday, so all of us are indoors since the classes were suspended, too. The kids were just playing inside since my sister’s TV remote was malfunctioning.
For two days, I haven’t walked due to the typhoon, and this morning I managed to do it since it’s the weekend (no cooking early), and this was the scene early in the morning. I had a talk with my Kuya about animals and slaughtering, and looking at them, I just enjoyed their innocence.
At 6: carabaos and chickens
Papa asked for some help from me on his phone since he’s still learning and he wants to pick music, so I checked it. I love the song he chose this morning, and I just took a video of the lovely beings around me.
I’m being quick because I’ll go with them in town. Oh, I removed the photo the other day, and I think this time, I’ll let you all see me.
Alright, happy weekend! Thank you so much, and stay amazing.
Okay so I’m not a dream kind of person at all. I have a hard time believing that dreams are meant to tell you something. I don’t even like dreaming to be honest. I suppose nearly ten years of nightmares about a crazy ex-boyfriend will do that to you.
But last night. Last night I had one of those dreams I want to go back and relive. Live in it. Be back there. Maybe if you’re a dreamer you can tell me why.
I’m in the parking lot of our grocery store and an older man pulls up in a very cool looking Alfa Romeo-meets-military jeep type of suv. He lets his wife out. I go over to the passenger door and get in.
He doesn’t flinch or even look at me. But he knows and understands why I’m getting in. He doesn’t ask questions.
Although I didn’t put him in the backseat, baby RR or Sid is back there, I can’t tell which but it’s a little person that I’m responsible for.
The old man is driving and leaned slightly forward. With no words spoken yet between us, I start rubbing his back. He’s wearing a beige and red fisherman type of sweater. He enjoys the backrub immensely lol.
He turns to me with a smile and says “if you keep doing that I’m going to have no choice but to fall in love with you and give you all my money”.
And the dream ends.
So funny. Like am I gold digger? Is that what this means?
I’m not, I swear. But the dream was soooo comfortable, comforting.
Honestly, it’s rare that I recall dreams this vividly. So it feels like this was a really special kind of dream.
A celebration of existence, I Am Alive is a raw and heartfelt ode to living fully between birth and death. It honors passion, struggle, joy, and gratitude—reminding us to embrace every moment, every feeling, and every gift that life offers.
# I Am Alive #
I am alive Because I write, Because I taste, Because I burn, Because I laugh, Because I fall, Because I rise.
Between born and death, I drink life fully— Every pain, every joy, Every gift God whispers.
I chase the moments That makes my heart race, I hold the silence That teaches me grace.
I stumble, I bleed, I falter, I plead, Yet through it all, I feel— And feeling is living.
So here I stand, Bold, open, unafraid, Grateful for the breath, For the sun, For the storm, For the beauty in the chaos.
Yes, I am here. I am still alive. And I will live Every second Of this fleeting, Miraculous life.
The weather is getting warmer. It won’t be long before the summer heat descends upon us, and I already dread the days.
Yesterday, my little girl’s teacher asked to meet the parents. I was surprised, since we’ve never received a complaint about her. I wondered what the fuss was about.
Well, it turned out that my little girl had signed on behalf of her father. She had received some minor remarks that needed a parent’s acknowledgment. I missed them, and apparently the teacher would be checking, so my daughter signed them herself – with a pencil.
I have to applaud her for the consistency in those signatures. If it hadn’t been done in pencil and erased a couple of times, the teacher probably wouldn’t have noticed.
The teacher wasn’t exactly alarmed, but she wanted to bring to our attention what children learn and pick up these days. I couldn’t help but laugh at how my daughter handled it. The pencil felt innocent, copying a signature – now that was a kind of troubling cleverness.
Both the kids have never really got into trouble at school. In fact, my son was, and still is, very gentle, so unlike me . So after COVID, when schools reopened, he took a phone to school without our knowledge. He wasn’t the only one – he was just unfortunate enough to get caught because the girls in his class were taking selfies.
The teacher was quite upset, and I did understand her sentiments.
Because my son has never got into trouble, I was actually pleased that he did this time. Does that make me strange? I want the kids to enjoy school and what school life is about. I had plenty of fun in school, got into lots of trouble, made wonderful – and a few lifelong friends, and there were moments when school became my safe space.
I want my kids to make memories. I tell them to be silly and mischievous. If they get into trouble, they’ll learn, and they’ll also look back at these days with fondness. Of course, I don’t mean unchecked behavior or trouble that hurts others. This is childhood innocence – fun.
Schools nowadays are stressful enough for children. There’s unhealthy competition and unnecessary pressure to perform and ace everything, and in the process, they lose out on being children. I don’t want that for them. School is one of the best times of our lives.
I believe I’m guiding my children to know right from wrong and good from bad, so I overlook minor mistakes because I know them and what they’re capable of. We are open with communication. We’ve always reassured them that they can come to us with anything – especially when they make mistakes.
Growing up, I didn’t have this experience because of the generation my parents grew up in. I don’t want the same for my kids.
One of the best parts was when my son told his sister that she was capable of doing such things. Poor girl – she was quite upset by that assessment. She is the mischievous one, though, so maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong . It was a learning lesson for her – a tiny one, but a lesson nonetheless.
However, I do recognize that this small incident could become a precedent for bigger things as they grow older. Copying a signature can be laughable today, but if not corrected, it could lead to serious repercussions later.
My Dream Home: A Sanctuary Built with Nature, Warmth, and Love
Hello dear friends, I hope this blog finds you smiling, calm, and carrying a little sunshine within.
Today’s writing prompt instantly caught my attention: “Write about your dream home.” As I sat with this question, I realized something deeply personal—my dream home is not about luxury, size, or status. It is about how a place feels, how it heals, and how it holds the people within it.
To me, a home is not meant to impress the world outside; it is meant to comfort the soul inside. Let me take you through the home I envision—one built not just with bricks and cement, but with warmth, memories, and meaning.
A Home Rooted in Nature
My dream home begins where nature thrives. I imagine waking up to birdsong instead of alarms, soft sunlight filtering through tall trees, and fresh air flowing freely through wide, open windows.
There would be greenery everywhere—a small but lively garden blooming with flowers, herbs, and perhaps a mango or guava tree standing proudly in one corner. Nature has always had a healing effect on me, and I believe that when a home is surrounded by greenery, it becomes calmer, gentler, and more alive.
This connection with nature would bring peace to everyday life, grounding me no matter how busy the world outside becomes.
Choosing Warmth Over Luxury
While many dream of lavish interiors and expensive décor, my heart leans toward warmth. I imagine a living room that feels like a warm embrace—soft sofas, wooden furniture, gentle lighting, and shelves filled with books, photographs, and little souvenirs collected over time.
This would be a space for slow evenings, heartfelt conversations, cups of tea, and comfortable silence. I want visitors to step inside and instantly feel at ease, thinking, “This place feels like home.” Because real beauty lies not in perfection, but in comfort and authenticity.
A Sanctuary for Creativity
An ideal home should nourish the mind and soul, and for me, that means having a dedicated space for creativity. A quiet study or library with a desk facing the garden would be my escape.
Surrounded by books and inspiring words, I could write freely—blogs, poems, journal entries, or thoughts that simply need a place to rest. I imagine a rocking chair placed in a sunlit corner, perfect for reading, reflecting, or daydreaming.
Creativity flourishes where there is calm, and this space would allow my thoughts to breathe.
A Kitchen Filled with Love
They say the kitchen is the heart of a home, and in my dream home, that saying would come alive every day. It wouldn’t be just a place to cook—it would be a place to connect.
I imagine the comforting aroma of fresh chapatis, simmering curries, and hot coffee filling the air as family and friends gather around, sharing laughter and stories. Cooking together has a beautiful way of strengthening bonds, and I would want my kitchen to reflect love, warmth, and togetherness.
Balancing Modern Comforts with Tradition
My dream home would gently blend modern living with traditional values. Eco-friendly design, energy-efficient lighting, and smart ventilation would ensure comfort and sustainability.
At the same time, traditional touches would add soul—clay pots in the kitchen, handwoven rugs, and perhaps a small courtyard where family gathers on breezy evenings. This harmony between the old and the new would make the home timeless, practical, and deeply rooted.
A Space for Well-Being and Inner Peace
Health and mindfulness matter deeply to me, so my ideal home would include a small fitness area along with a meditation or yoga room. Soft lighting, serene décor, and calming music would create a space of balance and peace.
This would be my retreat—a place to disconnect from the noise of the outside world and reconnect with myself. A home should nurture both the body and the spirit, and this space would do exactly that.
A Home Filled with Love and Laughter
Above all, my dream home would be filled with love. Because a house becomes a home only when it echoes with laughter, shared meals, quiet moments, festivals, and togetherness.
Whether celebrating special occasions or simply sitting in silence with loved ones, these moments create the true soul of a home. Even the humblest space becomes rich when it is filled with genuine connection and care.
Final Thoughts
So, what does my dream home look like?
It is a place where nature whispers through open windows, where warmth lives in every corner, where creativity blooms freely, and where love binds everything together. It may not be grand in size, but it would be immense in spirit.
Because an ideal home is not built with bricks and cement alone—it is built with dreams, care, and the deep human desire to belong. And that is the home I strive to create, not just in my imagination, but in my life every single day.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I’m not sure what the most important invention is, especially not in my lifetime.
Lately, it feels like many things that are invented eventually find a way to be used for harm.
I stumbled upon this poem, and it made me pause. If kindness can be considered an invention, then perhaps it is one of the greatest ones we have ever known – and one I hope we find our way back to practicing.
KINDNESS
WHAT IS THE REAL GOOD?
“What is the real good?” I asked in musing mood: “Order,” said the law court; “Knowledge,” said the school; “Truth,” said the wise man; “Pleasure,” said the fool; “Love,” said the maiden; “Beauty,” said the page; “Freedom,” said the dreamer; “Home,” said the sage; “Fame,” said the soldier; “Equity,” the seer;— Spake my heart full sadly; “The answer is not here.”
Then within my bosom Softly this I heard: “Each heart holds the secret; Kindness is the word.” — John Boyle O’Reilly
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and peaceful mood. After sharing my second day in Goa, exploring the calm shores of Candolim Beach, day three took me on a very different yet deeply enriching journey.
This day was dedicated to discovering the soulful heart of South Goa, with a special focus on one of its most treasured landmarks—the Basilica of Bom Jesus in Old Goa.
If the beaches show Goa’s beauty, South Goa reveals its spirit.
South Goa has a charm that unfolds slowly. It doesn’t demand attention; instead, it invites you to pause, breathe, and truly observe.
The drive itself was soothing—lush green landscapes, coconut groves swaying gently, quiet villages, and a rhythm of life that feels beautifully unhurried.
This part of Goa feels like a sanctuary, offering relief from the noise of everyday life and space for reflection.
Our journey led us to Old Goa, once the glorious capital of Portuguese India.
Walking into this historic area felt like stepping back in time.
Cobbled paths, grand churches, and centuries-old structures stand as silent witnesses to a rich colonial past.
Among them, the Basilica of Bom Jesus rises with quiet grandeur, drawing visitors from across the world.
Declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Basilica of Bom Jesus is renowned for housing the mortal remains of St. Francis Xavier, one of the most revered saints in Christianity.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt a deep sense of calm. The stunning Baroque architecture, ornate interiors, and the soft play of light created an atmosphere of reverence and awe.
Whether one arrives as a pilgrim, a history lover, or a curious traveler, the Basilica touches something within.
Standing there, surrounded by centuries of faith and devotion, I was struck by how seamlessly South Goa blends cultures.
Eastern spirituality and Western influence coexist gracefully, not competing but complementing one another.
Nearby, the Sé Cathedral, one of the largest churches in Asia, further amplifies this sense of historical and architectural richness.
The Church of St. Francis of Assisi and the Archaeological Survey of India Museum add layers to the experience, offering deeper insight into Goa’s past.
South Goa continues to impress with its natural beauty
Beyond Old Goa, South Goa continues to impress with its natural beauty and cultural depth.
Beaches like Palolem, Agonda, Colva, and Varca are known for their serenity—cleaner, quieter, and far less commercialized. These beaches are perfect for long walks, peaceful swims, and watching sunsets that feel almost meditative.
The calm waters and soft sands make you want to linger a little longer, doing nothing at all.
South Goa is also home to spiritual landmarks such as the Mangueshi Temple and Shantadurga Temple, both showcasing classic Goan temple architecture and standing as symbols of faith and harmony.
Visiting these temples highlighted how deeply spirituality is woven into everyday life here, regardless of religion.
Authentic Goan cuisine is an experience in itself
No journey through South Goa is complete without indulging in its food.
Authentic Goan cuisine is an experience in itself. From the comforting warmth of Goan fish curry to the rich, spicy flavors of Xacuti, every dish tells a story.
Ending a meal with sweet Dodol felt like the perfect way to savor the region’s culinary heritage.
Nature lovers will find endless joy here, too.
The dramatic views from Cabo de Rama Fort, overlooking the Arabian Sea, are breathtaking, while the Cotigao Wildlife Sanctuary offers a glimpse into Goa’s diverse flora and fauna.
Whether you’re birdwatching, exploring forest trails, or simply soaking in the greenery, South Goa feels alive yet peaceful.
What makes South Goa truly special
What makes South Goa truly special is its flexibility—it allows us to create our own rhythm. You can seek adventure with water sports like jet skiing and parasailing, explore local markets, or spend entire days simply relaxing by the beach.
Wellness retreats, yoga sessions, and Ayurvedic treatments further enhance the sense of restoration this region offers.
As day three came to an end, I realized why South Goa holds such a special place in so many hearts.
It is not just a destination; it is a feeling—of calm, connection, and quiet joy.
From the sacred halls of the Basilica of Bom Jesus to the tranquil beaches and lush landscapes, South Goa gently reminds us to slow down and appreciate life.
And that is why, dear friends, I can truly say—I Love South Goa.
Sign posted on the general entrance to the college where I work, I noticed this morning as I was entering the building: CAUTION, watch for falling snow and ice.
I thought to myself, yeah but what about the falling snow and ice of life. Where’s the caution sign for that.
The falling snow and ice of life. It’s the sleep you didn’t get. The fight with your child over adult things. The everyday routine chores you can’t find the time for. The relationships that fizzle and fall by the wayside. The dent in your side mirror because someone else, in a worse hurry than you, decided not to bother to shoulder check and changed lanes right into you.
These things are inevitable. Just as falling snow and ice is, apparently. At least with falling snow and ice you can look up, prepare yourself.
The falling snow and ice of life hits you out of nowhere, there’s not even a caution sign posted anywhere.
This poem speaks softly to the morning, which represents strength, renewal, and hope. It celebrates the miracle of waking up after dark, showing morning as steadiness, coming back, and new opportunities.
The heart of the poem is gratitude: appreciating life not for its ease, but for its continuation.
# O, Dear Morning #
O, dear Morning, you are not merely a word whispered by tick-tick clocks. You are a promise wrapped in pale gold light.
You arrive with the glowing Sun, soft-footed yet certain, brushing away the shadows that dared to linger too long. You whisper, The dark did not win. Even the longest night must loosen its grip.
You wake me from sleep not as an interruption, but as an invitation— to breathe again, to hope again.
You send the birds ahead of you, tiny messengers of joy, singing because they believe in today. In their chirping, I hear courage.
Every night, when silence feels heavy and worries grow loud, I wait for you. I trust you will come, as you always do.
O, dear Morning, I love you— not because you are perfect, but because you return.
Again. And again. And again— giving me one more day to live, to feel, to hope, to try.
I came across this question this morning and I’ve been pondering – what else – while trying not to doze off .
But seriously, my mind has been stewing on it. What time am I in? What is this season in my life?
I’d like to believe I’m evolving, shedding old skin so something new can grow. According to the Chinese calendar, 2025 is the Year of the Snake. The snake is often associated with wisdom, renewal, and transformation, shedding its skin not once, but repeatedly as it grows. I like to think of this season as one of quiet evolution – outgrowing what no longer fits so something new can emerge.
I hope – and I am learning – that this is the time to let go of what is not for my good: past hurts, dead weight I’ve carried too long, the habit of resurrecting what was meant to end. To release unforgiveness, resentment, and anything that keeps me from moving forward.
I hope in my evolving I’m also learning – to build bridges and not walls, to make peace with unresolved situations, to continue to seek the good in people and situations, and to not constantly search for answers but to grow comfortable in the unknown.
I hope in this season I learn to love better, to hope without despair, to step out in faith, and to face my fears.
In sitting with these hopes, I keep returning to a passage from Ecclesiastes – one I often quote, and one that has quietly shaped how I understand seasons, choices, and timing.
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time for war and a time for peace.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and relaxed mood. After sharing my wonderful experiences from day one in Goa, I’m excited to take you along on day two of this beautiful journey.
Today was all about discovering one of North Goa’s most loved coastal gems—Candolim Beach.
If day one was about first impressions and gentle beginnings, day two was about slowing down, breathing in the sea air, and letting Goa reveal its calm, sun-kissed side.
Candolim Beach welcomed me with a sense of ease
Yes, Candolim Beach welcomed me with a sense of ease the moment I arrived.
Stretching long and wide along the Arabian Sea, its golden sand felt softer underfoot, its surroundings noticeably calmer than its energetic neighbours, Calangute and Baga.
There’s something refreshing about Candolim—it doesn’t try too hard to impress, yet it quietly does.
The beach feels open, clean, and spacious, offering the perfect setting to unwind without feeling isolated.
The morning began lazily, just as a beach day should. Sunbeds lined the shore, spaced comfortably apart, inviting visitors to stretch out, relax, and do absolutely nothing.
I found myself drawn to the rhythm of the waves—steady, soothing, and almost meditative.
Candolim has a relaxed vibe that encourages you to slow your pace. Time seems to move differently here, measured not in hours but in tides and sunlight.
Of course, Candolim isn’t only about stillness.
As the day progressed, the adventurous side of the beach came alive. Colourful water sports kiosks dotted the shore, offering everything from jet-skiing and banana boat rides to parasailing high above the sea.
Watching parasailers soar against the blue sky was thrilling, and for those craving a rush of adrenaline, the options were endless.
For me, even observing the excitement from the shore added to the lively yet balanced atmosphere of the beach.
One of the highlights of the day was strolling along the shoreline, where the beach remained impressively clean and well-maintained.
Lifeguards were stationed at regular intervals, giving a reassuring sense of safety that allowed visitors to relax fully.
This attention to cleanliness and care is one of the reasons Candolim is often considered one of the best beaches in North Goa—it feels looked after, respected, and welcoming.
As lunchtime approached, the beach shacks began to tempt us with the irresistible aroma of Goan seafood.
Candolim’s dining scene is one of its strongest charms.
From simple wooden shacks to more stylish beachfront spots, there’s no shortage of places to enjoy fresh fish, prawns, calamari, and classic Goan curries.
I settled into a shaded shack, toes in the sand, enjoying a plate of freshly prepared seafood paired with a cool drink, while soft music played in the background.
It was the kind of meal that tastes even better because of where you are.
Later in the afternoon, I took some time to explore the area beyond the beach.
Candolim’s location is one of its greatest advantages. Situated conveniently between the lively beaches of Calangute and Baga and the historic Aguada Fort, it offers the best of both worlds.
A short drive brought views of Fort Aguada, standing proudly above the sea, reminding visitors of Goa’s rich colonial history and strategic past.
The contrast between the quiet beach and the imposing fort added depth to the day’s experience.
As evening approached, Candolim transformed yet again.
The sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in shades of orange, pink, and gold. Candolim is famous for its sunsets, and it’s easy to see why.
The wide horizon offers uninterrupted views, making the moment feel almost cinematic.
People gathered quietly along the shore—some with cameras, others simply watching in silence. It was one of those rare moments where everyone seemed united by the same feeling of calm appreciation.
As night fell, the beach shacks grew livelier.
Soft lights flickered on, music drifted through the air, and conversations became warmer and more animated.
Candolim’s nightlife is gentle rather than wild—perfect for those who want to enjoy the evening without the chaos.
Sitting there under the stars, listening to the waves and distant laughter, I felt deeply content.
For anyone seeking a quieter yet well-connected beach holiday in Goa, Candolim truly feels like an all-around choice.
It offers relaxation without boredom, adventure without overwhelm, and comfort without losing character.
Day two reminded me why Goa continues to capture hearts so effortlessly.
With the sound of the sea still echoing in my ears, I closed the day feeling refreshed and grateful.
And as I drifted into the night, I couldn’t help but look forward to what day three will bring. Stay with me, dear friends—Goa still has many stories left to tell.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I’ve been blogging for more than a year now, and I’ve met very supportive people here. When I checked my old posts, I saw who my loyal readers are, and for this short period of time, we built a beautiful friendship already. I feel so blessed, and I treasure all of you. You know who you are! Know that I treat you as family, and I always enjoyed your very kind words. Words touch hearts.
This is only my social online corner of my friends since I’m always only with my family and don’t hang out with friends. If you ever take a break and miss Hazel, just beep me anytime.
Anyway, I whiled away in the river again yesterday. That is always my “me-time” to reflect on things when I’m in nature, where peace embraces me. I love tranquil places. My dogs are always with me, and I explore a little farther. I’ve sat on the rock, just listened to my Christian music, watched the swimming teenagers, and left after the sun was almost set. I took a video and some photos.
On the rock; sunsetSwimming teensA dairy farmer, his carabao and the teens
Enjoy your Thursday, my amazing readers. Since I was done reviewing yesterday, I’ll start reading a new book. And since I took a bath today, I’ll share this.
The obvious answer is ending my marriage in 2013. But you’ve all heard that story six hundred times.
This morning I made the very easy decision to stay home from work with Sid and keep him home from school because he’s got a bit of a cold. Of course baby RR is home with us too.
So…you know it’s real tough. Forced to stay inside where it’s warm and cozy on a snowy blustery day. Hang out with Sid and the baby. Sid requested waffles this morning so I did that. Waffles, whipped cream and berries. Some bacon.
Baby RR is very easy to look after. Although when he’s hungry he lets you know! I’m excited to take him back to the pediatrician next week for a weigh in. I can see for my eyes each day how much he’s changing.
He’s gone from eating just two ounces per feed to nearly six! He was severely underweight when we got him because of neglect. So Cordelia and I are doing our damndest to chub him up a bit, and of course smother him with TLC.
I suppose deciding to keep him was a difficult decision but it felt a billion times easier than letting him go. We don’t know how long he’ll be ours, at some point his mom will surface and try to get him back. We’ll love him as long as we can.
Clint & I nine years ago almost to the day, doing what else, ice fishing
यह कविता एक ऐसे शहर को संबोधित है जो सिर्फ़ ईंट-पत्थर का नहीं, बल्कि यादों, रिश्तों और बीते हुए समय का घर है। यह बचपन की मासूमियत, दोस्ती की गर्माहट और उम्र के साथ आए सन्नाटे के बीच का एक भावुक संवाद है।
ए मेरे शहर…
ए मेरे शहर, तेरा नाम आते ही आँखें भर जाती हैं— जैसे समय की किसी तह से मेरा बचपन आज भी मुझे पुकारता हो।
कभी तू छोटा-सा कस्बा था, और मैं उससे भी छोटा; तेरी गलियों ने मुझे चलना सिखाया, तेरी मिट्टी ने मुझे अपना होना।
वो स्कूल की घंटी, ज़िंदगी की पहली लय थी; वो स्लेट, वो सपने— जो मासूम थे और बहुत बड़े भी।
आज भी तेरी गलियाँ होंगी, रंग उड़ते होंगे, दीये जलते होंगे— बस हमारी दौड़, हमारी हँसी अब उनमें नहीं होगी।
दोस्तों की वो टोली, नोक-झोंक, ठहाके— आज समझ आता है कि असली अमीरी वहीं थी।
तू ऊँची इमारतों में बदल गया, और मैं यादों की छड़ी टेकता धीरे-धीरे बूढ़ा हो गया।
लौटने का मन आज भी है, नाम पुकारने का, चेहरे ढूँढने का— पर कुछ नाम अब दुआ बन गए हैं, और कुछ चेहरे आसमान में बस गए हैं।
शायद इसलिए, ए शहर, तू इतना याद आता है— क्योंकि तू सिर्फ़ जगह नहीं था, तू वो वक़्त था जब दिल हल्का और ज़िंदगी सरल हुआ करती थी।
ए मेरे शहर, अगर कभी मुमकिन हो तो इतना कर देना— मेरी यादों को वैसा ही रहने देना जैसा मैंने तुझे छोड़ा था।
How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?
This is a repeat worth responding to again. Last year, I wrote about it, and this year I’d like to believe I’m adding new perspectives.
The passage of time reminds me that nothing is permanent. Life itself is a temporary journey we are undertaking. While there are beliefs that there will be a life – or even multiple lives – after we die, even those, too, are temporary.
As I grow, this realization – that what I have or what I’m holding now can be easily lost or taken away – is a quiet weight I carry.
There’s a deeper awareness that although time passes, our experiences and moments do not. They’re etched in us – living quietly in memory, sometimes waking as nostalgia.
With this awareness, I want to learn how to cherish and faithfully honor what I have now. How to hold people, moments, even pain and sorrow. I am not guaranteed even the now, and as my little girl once said, even the present we have becomes the past.
The passage of time feels like opening a window – letting sunlight in to dry what the rain left behind. It reveals what we were unable to see or understand. It brings clarity. Time shows me what matters beyond permanence and beyond control.
What stays, even as things pass, is the way we show up, the kindness we extend, and the grace we allow ourselves and others.
As I learn to accept that nothing is permanent, I want to learn not to detach, but to pay attention. To hold with care, not possession. And to let gratitude become less performative and more instinctive.
Life is full of surprises, and sometimes, the universe showers us with moments of sheer joy —those unexpected, fantastic news that make our hearts leap with excitement.
Have you ever imagined how you would react if you received incredibly wonderful news?
It could be anything—winning an award, landing a dream opportunity, receiving a long-awaited message, or finding out that a loved one is safe and happy.
The initial reaction to such delightful news is unique for each person, yet the feelings of elation, gratitude, and sheer bliss remain universal.
I still vividly remember the day I discovered my selection for the Bank through the newspaper.
At first, I couldn’t believe it. I double-checked my roll number against my admit card to ensure I wasn’t imagining things. That moment was incredibly exciting—it’s truly difficult to put into words!
Yes, friends, what’s the first thing I do when I get fantastic news? Let me take you through my journey of emotions and actions, hoping it resonates with your own experiences!
The Initial Shock and Disbelief
The moment I received the great news of my selection in the Bank from the newspaper, I couldn’t believe it at first.
My first reaction was sheer disbelief. “Really? Is this true?” I asked myself. My brain took a moment to process it, and in those few seconds,
I found myself rereading the message, replaying the moment, or even pinching myself to confirm that it wasn’t a dream.
This moment of shock is like the calm before the storm of excitement, where I let reality sink in before fully embracing the joy.
A Burst of Emotion – No Shout, No Dance, but Happy Tears
Once I realized that the news was indeed true, my emotions overwhelmed me. Some people shout with joy, some dance in excitement, but in my case, I was overcome with happy tears.
The emotions were so pure and heartwarming that they simply flowed out.
Celebrating victories, whether big or small, is a beautiful experience, and at that moment, my body instinctively reacted to my soul’s elation.
Sharing the Joy – Calling Loved Ones
For me, joy is best experienced when shared. The next thing I did was grab my phone (back then, landline phones were available) and call my closest family and friends.
I simply couldn’t keep such wonderful news to myself.
The sheer delight in their voices, their excitement matching mine, made the moment even more special.
Their happiness added another layer of fulfillment, reinforcing the idea that joy multiplies when shared.
Gratitude and Reflection
After the initial celebration, a deep sense of gratitude washed over me. I took a moment to reflect on the journey that led to this moment—transforming my path from an educational life to a professional career.
I remembered the challenges, the patience, and the perseverance it took to reach this point.
This was a personal achievement, and I firmly believe in acknowledging the efforts behind it.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and silently thanked the universe, God, and my hard work for making it possible.
Treating Myself – A Grand Celebration
Every milestone, big or small, deserves a celebration! The next step was indulging in a small treat—a fancy meal, a coffee date, or simply enjoying my favorite dessert.
But in my case, there was a grand party with family and friends!
I strongly believe that celebrations should be grand, as they make the moment truly special. Taking the time to cherish victories instead of rushing to the next goal is essential.
Channeling the Positivity into Motivation
Fantastic news serves as a reminder that hard work, patience, and hope eventually bear fruit. Once the initial excitement settled, I used the energy of the moment to fuel my future endeavors.
Whether it was setting new goals, inspiring others, or simply enjoying the newfound happiness, I made sure to carry forward the positivity.
The momentum of good news often pushes us to work harder and strive for even greater achievements.
Embracing the Joy of Life
In the end, receiving fantastic news is a magical moment that deserves to be cherished. From the first reaction of disbelief to the final reflection of gratitude, every step of the journey is worth embracing.
Life gives us these golden moments to remind us to smile, celebrate, and be thankful for the beauty of existence.
So, what about you? What’s the first thing you do when you receive fantastic news? Take a moment to reflect and embrace the joy it brings!
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I hope this blog finds you smiling and curious, because today I’m writing with salty air still clinging to my skin and the gentle hum of palm trees somewhere in the background.
I’ve finally arrived in Goa—and this is day one of a six-day journey that already feels like it’s going to linger in my memory long after I leave.
This week-long programme is not just about travel; it’s about immersing yourself in a place that effortlessly balances culture, colour, calm, and celebration.
My first impressions of Goa were exactly what my tired, travel-hungry soul needed. After the long journey, stepping outside felt like stepping into a slower rhythm of life.
The air here is warm but relaxed, the kind that instantly tells you to unclench your shoulders. Goa doesn’t rush you. It invites you to settle in, breathe deeply, and look around.
The drive from the airport itself was an introduction to the state’s personality. Lush greenery lined the roads, interrupted by flashes of colourful houses with red-tiled roofs, roadside chapels, and small local shops.
There was a sense of familiarity and foreignness at the same time—India, yes, but with a distinctly Goan twist shaped by centuries of Portuguese influence.
Even on day one, it was clear that Goa wears its history lightly, blending it into everyday life rather than putting it on display behind glass.
Excitement began to build for the highlight of the day
By late afternoon, excitement began to build for the highlight of the day: an evening cruise at Betim.
Situated along the Mandovi River, Betim is perfectly placed for watching Goa transition from day to night, and I couldn’t have asked for a better way to begin this journey. As the sun began to soften,
I made my way to the jetty, joining fellow travellers who, like me, were eager to see Goa from the water.
The cruise itself felt like a gentle celebration.
As the boat glided along the Mandovi, the breeze instantly cooled the day’s warmth, carrying with it the faint sounds of music and laughter.
On one side, Panjim’s riverside buildings glowed in the golden light; on the other, dense mangroves and quiet villages reminded me that nature still has the upper hand here.
It was one of those moments where you don’t feel the urge to check your phone—you just watch, listen, and let it all sink in.
As the sky shifted from blue to shades of orange, pink, and finally deep purple, the atmosphere on board became even more magical.
Soft Goan music played, and there was an unmistakable feeling of shared joy among everyone on the cruise.
Strangers exchanged smiles, cameras clicked, and conversations flowed easily. The Mandovi River reflected the changing sky like a moving painting, and for a moment, time felt beautifully suspended.
Goa’s charm lies in these quiet, perfectly timed experiences
What struck me most was how effortlessly Goa introduces itself. There’s no need for dramatic gestures—its charm lies in these quiet, perfectly timed experiences.
A river cruise at dusk, the sound of water against the boat, distant church bells, and the first hints of evening lights along the shore were enough to make me feel completely present.
As night settled in and the cruise drew to a close, I felt a deep sense of anticipation for what lies ahead.
If this is what day one has to offer—a calm arrival, rich first impressions, and a sunset cruise that feels almost cinematic—then the coming days promise even more discovery.
Beaches, culture, food, history, and hidden corners of the state are all waiting, and I’m ready to explore them one day at a time.
And so, this is how my Goa story begins—
Floating on the gentle waters of the Mandovi at Betim, the river glowing as the sun slowly melts into the horizon.
In that quiet, golden moment, with the breeze on my face and the day fading into dusk, gratitude washed over me.
I knew then that this journey had only just begun. Stay with me, dear friends—the first chapter has closed, and day two is already calling.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I had honestly forgotten how much I’d hated my postpartum body nearly twenty-five years ago after I’d had my first baby, Bella-Lena. Last night I was sitting here feeding RR in the wee hours of the morning and I guess that was the catalyst. At three thirty am I was Alice in Wonderland and fell down a hole, landed right there, a brand new baby and a body I didn’t recognize.
I’m not sure if I made too big of a deal about it at the time. I didn’t discuss it with other people really. Were other women feeling the same thing?
I’d luckily always had a very healthy metabolism and could eat and eat without gaining a pound. When I’d first gotten pregnant with Bella-Lena I was slim with a flat stomach. I was pretty confident in my skin.
I came of age with some pretty skinny role models, well not role models but people who seemed influential, Kate Moss for example. Just like Twiggy in the sixties, waif-like skinniness was cool in the early 90’s.
So after gaining nearly seventy pounds in my first pregnancy thanks to pre-eclampsia, well that and a very insatiable appetite, I didn’t recognize my postpartum body. It really bothered me. My flat stomach was gone. The taut skin on my flat stomach was gone.
I remember going shopping when Bella-Lena was about a year old and being disgusted with myself in the mirror. Why did that body have to leave me. How will I get it back. How do I deal with this body.
It was a very big upset in my life. Of course I was more than happy to have this baby but who was I now? I couldn’t wear the same types of clothes that I did pre-pregnancy. I had to totally change my style and honestly even my feet got bigger.
Nowadays, a quarter of a century later, I’m cool with it. At the time however, it was a shock to me. I’m happy to notice that nowadays it seems that women are nicer to themselves. They’re better at being happy with whatever shape they have. I am too. At forty-nine I’m definitely, let’s say curvier, but I’m alright with it.
I just wish I had been nicer to myself in 2001.
I think I was pregnant with Taz here, not even sure
This is a gentle, emotional poem about finding truth, strength, and self-understanding in dark moments. It shows darkness not as fear, but as a quiet teacher—a place where honesty begins, and light is slowly born.
I Love Darkness
I love darkness, quiet and deep, A gentle place where secrets sleep. It slows my breath, it lets me stay, A tender pause at end of day.
In darkness, truth has space to rise, No masks to wear, no need for lies. It holds my fear, it hears my cries, Then turns them soft before my eyes.
When light is loud and asks too much, Darkness heals with honest touch. It teaches strength, it teaches grace, To meet myself face to face.
In silent hours, my thoughts grow clear, I learn what matters, what is dear. Darkness shows me who I am, Not who I fake, not who I plan.
For every night, a dawn is near, A whispered hope, a growing cheer. Darkness is not the end I see— It’s where the light is born in me.
So I don’t run, and I don’t fight, I walk with dark toward the light. I love darkness, calm and true, Yes, it makes me whole, it makes me me
I’m not sure for how long I’ve been like this, maybe my whole life, but I can’t stand glasses or mugs put away in the cupboard upside down.
Like what is the point of that? Is dust actually going to accumulate inside of the cupboard doors in the twenty-four hours it takes to go through most of them?
My kids know that if they want to bug me, which they way too often do, when they unload the dishwasher, they put the glasses and cups away NOT right side up.
Each time I see it, it reminds me of that scene in Sleeping With the Enemy where Julia Roberts opens the cupboard door and sees her crazy abuser husband has been in the house because all of the canned goods are organized with labels facing front.
Except I’m not scared, I’m annoyed and I have to flip them all back over.
Sid this morning on our way to schoolCordelia & baby RR
Hello dear friends— I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood too.
“Do you need a break? From what?” It’s a deceptively simple question, the kind that looks casual but quietly opens a door to self-examination.
At first glance, many of us would answer automatically: Yes, I need a break—from work, from responsibilities, from stress.
But if we sit with the question a little longer, it begins to shift.
A break is not always about physical rest or time off.
Often, it’s about distance—emotional, mental, or even spiritual distance—from something that has been draining us in ways we haven’t fully acknowledged.
In today’s fast-paced world, needing a break has almost become a badge of honor. Being busy is praised, exhaustion is normalized, and burnout is worn like proof of dedication.
We tell ourselves we’ll rest later—after the deadline, after the exam, after the promotion, after life finally slows down.
The irony, of course, is that life rarely slows down on its own. That’s why the question isn’t just Do you need a break? but From what, exactly?
For many people, the first answer is work. Long hours, constant emails, pressure to perform, and the expectation to always be available can make even a job we once loved feel overwhelming.
A break from work isn’t always about laziness or lack of ambition; sometimes it’s about preservation. Stepping away, even briefly, allows us to reconnect with why we started in the first place—or to realize that something needs to change.
Not all exhaustion comes from work.
But not all exhaustion comes from work. Some of us need a break from noise—the constant flow of information, opinions, notifications, and comparisons.
Social media keeps us connected, but it also keeps us measuring our lives against carefully curated highlights of others.
A break from screens can feel uncomfortable at first, like withdrawal, but it often creates space for clarity. Silence, in small doses, can be surprisingly restorative.
Others may need a break from emotional labor.
Always being the strong one. Always listening. Always supporting. Always understanding. While empathy is a beautiful trait, carrying everyone else’s weight without tending to your own eventually leads to emotional fatigue.
Taking a break here doesn’t mean you stop caring; it means you care enough about yourself to refill your cup.
Then there are breaks we need from patterns—negative thought loops, self-doubt, perfectionism, or unrealistic expectations we place on ourselves.
Sometimes the most exhausting place to live is inside our own minds.
A break, in this sense, might look like practicing self-compassion, setting gentler goals, or simply allowing yourself to be human instead of flawless.
Interestingly, some people need a break not from doing too much, but from doing too little of what truly matters to them.
A break from routine can be a break from stagnation.
It can be a reminder to create, explore, laugh, and play. Rest isn’t always stillness; sometimes it’s movement toward joy.
What’s important to understand is that a break doesn’t have to be dramatic. It doesn’t always require a vacation, quitting a job, or disappearing from the world.
Sometimes a break is a quiet morning, a deep breath, an honest conversation, a boundary, or a single evening spent without guilt.
Small pauses, taken regularly, can prevent the need for a complete collapse later.
So, do you need a break?
Chances are, yes—most of us do. But the more meaningful question is from what and why. When we answer honestly, we give ourselves permission to rest with intention instead of waiting until exhaustion forces us to stop.
A break is not a failure. It’s a form of wisdom. It’s the act of listening to yourself before your body or mind starts shouting.
And when taken thoughtfully, a break doesn’t pull you away from life—it helps you return to it with more clarity, balance, and strength.
So pause, dear friends. Reflect. And if you need a break, take it—without apology.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Something on your “to-do list” that never gets done.
Niece
Last Friday, I finally finished the book three of the Laura Ingalls series, and today, I will do my best to write a review for it. It’s not a one-sit-done task. I take notes while reading; thus, I have a summary, and it is my basis to write my book review with some common guidelines. I hope to write a good review since I write daily blogs than reviews, and it influence my writing style including about books.
Thank you, my best friend Hitomi
I supposedly write it yesterday, but my cousin called my aunt through my phone, so this scene shifts my schedule. And I tried to scheduled a duplicate post yesterday, too, but decided to change it, as I remember the video i took last Thursday that bring back memories of my childhood. And I’d like to share it here. Like that video title, let me know when you want to ride, so I can whistle for the driver to stop.
It’s been decades since I rode it, and I feel like I want to ride it again, but I think if I want to, I will really (book a ticket, no! Tell a driver) fulfill my wish. It’s so fun, I believe, and my nephew and niece haven’t tried it yet in their whole lives. I hope we can set a date. Do you like to see us ride it?
And I’m writing it with a grateful heart since it’s raining right now for a month of dryness. It calls for a planting time in my garden. Thank God!
Thank you so much, my amazing readers. Happy Tuesday and stay grateful!
Written at the edge of a new year, this poem speaks about growth that comes from effort, not wishes. It values persistence over results we can see, and reminds us that real wealth is often hidden—like roots that hold everything upright.
What This Tree Really Grows
On the final night of the year, when resolutions flicker like sparks before the dark can keep them, a tree stands quietly— not asking, not promising, only growing.
Its roots drink from buried failures, from days we almost left ourselves behind, from courage we didn’t yet know was courage.
Its branches hold small notes— Stay with the struggle, inked in patience, signed by time.
This tree does not reward wishing. It answers effort.
Each leaf is a choice made again. Each scar, a season endured.
As midnight arrives, the tree does not change— we do.
At last, we understand: wealth is not what hangs from the branch, but what allows the branch to bear the weight.
So let the new year begin. May we plant with care. May we wait without fear. May our hands be honest with the work they do.
And may whatever grows teach us gratitude. May it be enough.
This question assumes everyone cooks or enjoys cooking.
Some of us simply enjoy the process of filling our stomachs, not showcasing culinary skills. We’re excellent with commentaries and suggestions though .
Another repeat. Give us a break, will you, WP? This feels like the same question, just reframed.
So instead, I’ll share another skill – which, unfortunately, isn’t mine, again. Starting the week with another one of little girl’s drawings and a bit of humor.
I shot the full moon, partially obscured by a thin layer of cloud, with my Pentax K10 tonight.
Here’s the kicker, though.
I used my Pentax 100mm macro lens, and then dug up an old Vivitar 75-250mm lens and shot it with that too.
I figured, the Vivitar lens isn’t as good as the Pentax, but it’s 250mm, so I should get a larger image. And I’m shooting digital, so nothing to lose, right?
I can’t tell the pictures apart.
The moon is the same size with both lenses??
That doesn’t make sense.
I need to dig into that, but I already put the zoom lens away.
Sigh.
And I should have shot raw, not JPEG. Dammit.
Anyway, here’s the best shot:
Not terrible for a handheld shot. Not great, but not terrible.
Hello, my friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and thoughtful mood.
Today’s writing prompt is a particularly interesting one: Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?
As I reflect on this question, I realize how naturally life-changing circumstances and personal growth guide us away from certain passions while gently introducing us to new ones.
Hobbies are deeply personal. They mirror who we are at a particular moment in life—our energy levels, emotional needs, available time, and even our age.
As these elements change, it is only natural that our interests evolve as well.
The Nature of Changing Interests
In childhood, hobbies are driven almost entirely by joy and curiosity. We immerse ourselves in activities without overthinking their usefulness or productivity.
Collecting stamps, riding bicycles, playing video games, or—my personal favourite—sketching cartoons in the corners of school notebooks brought pure, uncomplicated happiness.
As we grow older, however, our interests begin to shift. Sometimes this happens out of necessity, and sometimes because our perspectives change.
Responsibilities increase, schedules become packed, and priorities rearrange themselves. A hobby that once energized us may slowly fade into the background.
There are also hobbies that demand physical endurance. Activities we enjoyed effortlessly in our youth—running, competitive sports, or long hours of outdoor play—may become more challenging with age.
This doesn’t diminish their value; it simply reflects the changing needs of our bodies and minds.
Hobbies I’ve Outgrown
When I look back at my own journey, I can clearly see how my interests have transformed over time.
In my younger days, I had an immense fascination with mathematics. Solving puzzles and brain teasers brought me deep satisfaction and a sense of achievement. Numbers felt exciting and full of possibility.
However, as my career took shape and eventually led me into the banking industry, my relationship with mathematics became more practical than passionate.
After retiring, I found myself drawn away from numbers and calculations and toward literature, poetry, and storytelling. Words began to inspire me in ways equations once did.
Another hobby I cherished in my youth was cricket. I spent countless hours on the field with friends, fueled by the adrenaline of the game and the joy of teamwork.
Watching and playing cricket was once an inseparable part of my routine. But as professional and personal responsibilities grew, my time on the field gradually diminished.
While I still enjoy watching a good match, my passion for actively playing has faded.
Why Do We Outgrow Certain Activities?
There are many reasons why hobbies fall away over time:
Changing priorities: Work, family, and social commitments often leave little room for pastimes we once enjoyed.
Physical limitations: Aging can make physically demanding hobbies harder to sustain.
Lack of time: Some activities require consistent practice, which becomes difficult in a fast-paced lifestyle.
Emergence of new interests: As we grow, we discover pursuits that better align with who we are now.
Technological advancements: Certain hobbies, like letter writing or stamp collecting, have declined in the digital age.
Each reason reflects growth rather than loss.
The Beauty of Change
Letting go of a hobby can feel nostalgic, even bittersweet. But outgrowing an activity doesn’t mean losing a part of ourselves—it means evolving.
Every phase of life brings its own form of creativity and joy.
Though I no longer play cricket regularly, I have discovered the calming pleasure of painting and abstract art. Instead of solving mathematical problems, I now find fulfillment in crafting stories and poems.
These newer interests suit my present rhythm and mindset.
Revisiting Old Hobbies
Interestingly, hobbies never truly disappear. They wait patiently in the background.
Recently, during a local cricket tournament in our community, I picked up a cricket bat again. The experience brought immense joy and nostalgia, reminding me that passions can be revisited without pressure or expectation.
My Final Submission
Yes, my friends, losing interest in a hobby is not a negative outcome—it is a sign that we are growing and adapting. The key is to remain open to new experiences while honouring the ones that once shaped us.
So, have you outgrown any hobbies? Or perhaps rediscovered an old passion that brings happiness back into your life? I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
After all, life is a journey of continuous discovery—and our hobbies are faithful companions along the way.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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It was a few days ago when I mentioned to my husband that I hadn’t seen one of our neighbors around. Every morning, he would walk his dog, so his absence was conspicuous. On Friday, we learned he’d passed away. We saw him daily, and he appeared healthy.
As usual, death makes me pause. We never know when the end comes. More often than we care to admit, there are no goodbyes, no last words – just aching silence. A silence that arrives without permission, like a sentence cut short, the rest swallowed by white space.
But this is not restricted to death, is it?
I was thinking about how this applies to the living world as well. It may not be a literal death, but it is still a kind of death when conversations stop. We never know when it’s going to be our last conversation with anyone.
Does it ever occur to us, while we’re in conversation with someone, that it could be the last one? One day, you realize you’ve not heard from them or spoken to them, and there’s so much left unsaid. Stories unshared, questions unanswered, jokes you’ll never laugh at – all because we believe there will be a tomorrow, a later. But the later never comes.
There’s an unsettled finality you grow accustomed to. You learn that silence shows up before loss, not just after. That endings happen in living relationships, but without ceremony. There are no farewell words, nothing to memorialise.
We rarely recognize the last while we’re still inside it.
I often wonder which is harder – to be given the chance to say final words, knowing they may hurt, or to never be given the chance at all. To carry the weight of what was said, or to live with the ache of everything that wasn’t – whether in death, or in relationships that quietly fade while everyone is still breathing.
Perhaps the hardest part isn’t the absence itself, but the realization that the moment we would have said something more… has already passed. And that brings its own kind of ache.
Didn’t actually wake up until it was light out for a change.
So plenty of crows and flowers on our walk.
Around twenty-five crows.
And lots of visible flowers to boot.
And a bonus shot:
Poorly timed shutter release…
Upon our return, it was, of course, time for the morning coffee ritual.
And as I leisurely sipped my coffee, the entitled thieving bastard appeared, pacing the fence and, at one point, coming down into the yard and approaching the patio door, wondering where his damn peanuts were.
For some reason I remember my ex-in laws first computer better than my own. Maybe because they had one first. It seemed a very hip thing to do back then, own a personal computer.
There’s was set up on a brand new desk they had bought, solely for the computer, in the spare room. The spare room had French doors to the backyard and so it was full of light.
I don’t recall why we spent time in there with them and the computer. But I do remember vividly that Bella-Lena had already been born, although just, and my mother in law would download lots of music. She and Bella-Lena would dance.
The song they played and danced to over and over was the Kid Rock/Sheryl Crow duet Picture. You couldn’t get away from that song in 2001 and 2002. Although it was never a favourite of mine, way too sappy.
To this day whenever I hear that song, I’m taken back to that sunny room, the lady I called Mom, dancing with my firstborn in her arms, thanks to that computer.
Hello, dear friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful, curious, and inspired mood.
Today’s writing prompt truly made me pause and reflect: “The Most Important Invention in My Lifetime.”
It’s a deceptively simple question, yet the more I thought about it, the more layered it became.
After all, necessity is the mother of invention, and human history is nothing but a long chain of ideas born out of need.
From the wheel to electricity, from the printing press to the internet, inventions have continuously reshaped how we live, think, and connect.
But among all the innovations I have witnessed in my lifetime, one stands out above the rest—the smartphone.
At first glance, a smartphone may seem like just another gadget. But in reality, it is a powerful symbol of modern civilization.
It is not merely a phone; it is a library, an office, a classroom, a doctor’s clinic, an entertainment center, and a social bridge—all wrapped into a small device that fits into our pocket. Isn’t it?
Its impact goes far beyond convenience; it has fundamentally changed human behavior and expectations.
The Power of Instant Connectivity
Perhaps the most profound contribution of the smartphone is how it has revolutionized communication.
In earlier times, staying connected meant waiting days for letters or planning conversations around limited access to landline phones.
Distance created silence. Today, distance has almost disappeared.
With instant messaging, voice calls, and video chats, we can connect with anyone, anywhere, at any time.
Applications like WhatsApp, Zoom, and FaceTime have turned the world into a global village. Families separated by continents can share daily moments. Friendships survive despite physical distance.
During global crises such as the COVID-19 pandemic, smartphones became emotional lifelines, allowing people to stay socially connected even when physically isolated.
A Pocket-Sized Workplace
The smartphone has also transformed the way we work. It has blurred the lines between office and home, creating flexibility that was once unimaginable.
Emails, cloud-based documents, calendars, and productivity apps allow people to manage work on the go.
Entrepreneurs run businesses from their phones, freelancers find clients globally, and students attend virtual classes—all through a single device.
Remote work, online banking, digital payments, and e-commerce have flourished because of smartphones.
For many, especially in developing regions, a smartphone is the first gateway to financial independence and professional growth.
Education Without Walls
Education is another area where the smartphone has made a revolutionary impact. Knowledge is no longer confined to classrooms or libraries.
With educational apps, online courses, audiobooks, and digital libraries, learning has become accessible to anyone with an internet connection.
Platforms like Khan Academy, Coursera, and Duolingo have democratized education, enabling people from diverse backgrounds to acquire new skills.
For students in remote or underserved areas, smartphones bridge the educational gap, turning learning into a lifelong, borderless journey.
Entertainment and Expression
Entertainment has also been redefined. Music, movies, podcasts, games, and social media are available anytime, anywhere.
Smartphones allow people not only to consume content but also to create it.
A single phone can record videos, edit photos, write blogs, and publish ideas to a global audience. Creativity has found a new, accessible platform.
Health and Well-Being at Hand
In healthcare, smartphones have become silent guardians of well-being. Fitness trackers, meditation apps, health reminders, and telemedicine services empower individuals to take charge of their health.
Wearable devices connected to smartphones can monitor vital signs, encouraging preventive care rather than reactive treatment.
For elderly people and those in remote areas, this accessibility can be life-changing.
The Inventor Within
While I did not invent the smartphone itself, I believe this invention has awakened the inventor within many of us—including me. Over time, I have created personal systems, workflows, and creative methods using this technology.
Whether it’s improving my writing process, managing my blog, or expressing myself through art and storytelling, I have invented solutions tailored to my own needs.
In that sense, every individual becomes an inventor—adapting tools to design a better version of their daily life.
My Final Submission
In my opinion, the smartphone is the most important invention of my lifetime.It has transformed how we communicate, work, learn, heal, and express ourselves.
While it brings challenges such as screen addiction and privacy concerns, its benefits are undeniable. It empowers, connects, and educates like no other invention before it.
As we move forward, newer technologies may emerge, but the smartphone will always remain a defining symbol of our era—a small device that changed the world in remarkably big ways.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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So plenty of light by the time we hit the pavement.
Seventeen crows. At one point, a line of them on a power line just perched there, watching me.
It was like a bad CGI scene in a movie where someone had copied and pasted the model of the crow on a neat line, all of them moving in (im)perfect unison.
Creepy.
No picture of that, sadly.
And flowers, naturally.
And, of course, it isn’t a morning full of tyranny without at least one thieving bastard.
At last, I have you exactly where I want you! Muhahaha!
After caging and skinning the thieving bastard, time for the blessed morning coffee ritual!
This poem is about realizing oneself, feeling regret, and healing. It reflects the moment when someone stops living for others and starts to listen to themselves.
Through forgiveness and self-acceptance, it shows the bravery needed to recover lost dreams and live honestly—moving forward not in perfection, but in truth.
A Genuine Promise to Me #
After so long, today I pause, I look at my face without a cause. In the silent mirror, I stand and stare, Listening to truths I left buried there.
So many times, I tried to smile, I walked away from me a while. I traded dreams for borrowed peace, Asked my own wishes to quietly cease.
I left my wants on broken roads, To please the world, I took its loads. I said “someday” and carried on, Pretending strength meant never gone.
But today I turn, and clearly see, Those lost paths still waiting for me. I breathe in deep, I call my name, Invite my joy, release the shame.
Today I whisper, “I’m sorry, friend, For truths I bent, for fires I burned. For every time I chose a lie, And watched my truest dreams slowly die.”
I hold myself and gently say, “I’m here. I won’t run away. Each hidden tear, each silent plea— I promise now, I choose me.”
Forgive me, heart, for all that pain, For trading sun for gentle rain. This road is hard, but it feels right, To walk with me—toward honest light.
What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?
This is a loaded question. I have many fears – some unfounded, a few even imaginary – but they’re fears all the same.
Lately though, I’m learning that surrendering itself is a fear. It’s a struggle for sure, but we fear surrender. Surrender is giving up control, and losing control is a very real fear. When we believe we’re not in control, some of our not-so-pretty selves reveal themselves. We try to force outcomes, change the story, reframe language and understanding, modify behavior, and in some cases, unfortunately, resort to violence.
Why do we fear surrender?
Is it the loss of power? The sense that if we’re not in control, then we’re not being seen, heard, respected, or obeyed? Or could it be that we feel we’re losing ourselves – that we no longer have autonomy? There are innumerable reasons.
But does surrender mean losing autonomy and power?
This power dynamic plays out even in a parent–child relationship, when a toddler tries to assert itself against its parent. The resistance isn’t rebellion for rebellion’s sake – it’s a declaration of selfhood. A need to exist as a separate being.
So what does surrender actually look like?
What are we giving up, losing, or gaining by surrendering?
In any kind of relationship – romantic, platonic, or familial – surrender is vulnerability and transparency. It is risk and trust intertwined, hoping and believing that the other will protect you at all costs. I believe that with surrender comes freedom – the freedom to be our complete selves.
And yet, if surrender comes with freedom, why do we shy away from it?
From my own experience, I can say surrender is not a permanent state. It is a daily habit, a moment-by-moment choice. Though I know surrender means freedom, that doesn’t make it any easier. In fact, I fight with it more than ever.
what a thoughtful prompt to sit with. Life has a way of teaching us its lessons not through lectures, but through moments: some loud and world-shaking, others quiet and almost forgettable until we look back.
The question “How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?” is compelling because it touches the core of being human.
Whether we realize it or not, our outlook on life is constantly being reshaped by what we experience and by how long we have been around to interpret it.
How Loss and Joy Redefine What Truly Matters
Significant life events often act as turning points. These are the moments that divide our lives into a before and an after.
The loss of a loved one, for instance, can profoundly alter how we understand time, relationships, and priorities. Things that once felt urgent—deadlines, arguments, trivial worries—may suddenly shrink in importance.
In contrast, the presence of loss can magnify what truly matters: connection, kindness, and the fleeting nature of shared moments.
Grief, while painful, often deepens empathy. It teaches us that everyone we meet is carrying unseen battles, quietly navigating their own heartbreaks.
On the other end of the spectrum, joyful milestones such as marriage, parenthood, or achieving a long-held dream can be equally transformative.
These events often broaden our perspective beyond the self. Responsibility grows, patience is tested, and the concept of success evolves.
What once looked like ambition driven by ego may transform into purpose driven by care—for family, community, or legacy.
Joyful events remind us that life is not only about surviving difficulties but also about savoring growth and shared happiness.
Failure is a powerful teacher.
Failure, too, is a powerful teacher. Rejection, financial setbacks, broken relationships, or unrealized plans can initially feel like endings.
Over time, however, they often reveal themselves as redirections.
Failure humbles us. It chips away at the illusion that life should unfold exactly as planned. Through it, we learn resilience, adaptability, and self-honesty.
Many people discover that their most meaningful growth occurred not during moments of success, but during seasons when they were forced to rebuild themselves.
While dramatic events leave clear marks, the quiet passage of time may be even more influential.
Time has a subtle way of refining perspective.
As years go by, we tend to exchange certainty for understanding. The black-and-white thinking of youth slowly gives way to nuance.
We realize that people are rarely entirely right or wrong, good or bad. Life becomes less about winning arguments and more about preserving peace.
Time teaches us that change is inevitable—not only in circumstances, but within ourselves.
With age often comes acceptance.
Dreams may evolve, relationships shift, and identities expand or contract. What once felt like compromise may later feel like wisdom. Time helps us recognize patterns—both in the world and in ourselves.
We begin to notice which habits nourish us and which quietly drain us. This awareness allows for intentional living: choosing quality over quantity, meaning over noise, and depth over appearance.
Importantly, time also changes how we relate to ourselves. Many people grow kinder inwardly as they age. The pressure to meet external expectations softens, replaced by a desire for authenticity.
Perfection is neither attainable nor necessary.
We learn that perfection is neither attainable nor necessary. Instead, being present, learning continuously, and offering grace—to ourselves and others—becomes the true measure of a life well lived.
Ultimately, significant life events and the passage of time work together like sculptors.
Events provide the sharp strikes, while time smooths the edges. Together, they shape our values, beliefs, and understanding of what it means to be alive.
They remind us that perspective is not fixed; it is earned, refined, and renewed through living.
Life does not change us all at once. It changes us moment by moment, experience by experience, year by year.
And if we remain open—curious rather than bitter, reflective rather than reactive—we may find that every season, whether joyful or painful, has something valuable to teach us.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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January 26th has come and gone but apparently it was National Spouse’s Day. Gag me with a spoon.
But I do love thinking about relationships. Why people stay. Why people pretend to be in a healthy relationship. I’m not really sure why we are so enamoured with finding and being in a relationship. Why do we think THAT’S the key to happiness? Why do people feel that they NEED a partner?
I suppose I’m as guilty of it as anyone else.
When I was newly single after my 13 year marriage ended, the father of Bella-Lena’s bff started stalking me. He sent me flowers anonymously. Dropped off jewelry to my workplace. More flowers. Followed me absolutely everywhere I went.
He was married and the day I had the police serve him with a restraining order, his wife called me. She wanted to know what the story was. Why had I gotten a restraining order? So I told her bits and pieces of the story. The conversation with her made me very uncomfortable.
She asked me why I hadn’t gotten in contact with her and told her what was happening. I really didn’t know what to say. Like sorry Brenda, but it’s an awkward conversation to call you up and say hey, your husband is buying me things and follows me everywhere.
I don’t know that they really stayed together, but he had a massive stroke a couple of years later and she stayed by his side throughout his rehab and in his death.
She still posts “in memoriam” types of lovey dovey things on FB when it’s the anniversary of his death or their anniversary or his birthday.
I don’t understand. But maybe because I’ve never lived it.
Our childhood horse Beaver, I’m far right, my younger sister far left, older sister in back
As always, my eldest sister did things at her own pace. Yesterday, Mama managed to tie her goats just in our space since they can roam the once muddy grassland. This made my view upstairs a little lively.
Find Mama
My fifth sister and her husband visited us after school, and they brought us milk and biscuits, so we had some milk and coffee and meaningful talks. Since I had just a very short walk in the morning, I walked again during sunset in the river. There, the peace and beauty that I never get bored of still entertain me. I looked at the mountain with rubber trees, which stand out among the greenery since it’s their autumn time. I walked barefoot in the sand, grasses, and gravel to just feel the Earth, and I watched a little while the flowing water. Yes, this view is repeated many times, but the peace it brings is still worthwhile.
After some strolling, witnessing a family crossing the river and talking to a farmer neighbour, I walked home.
There are two little ones
The house was filled with tunes when I arrived since my third eldest sister was having fun singing because she expressed lately how interesting her students are (you know what I mean), and she wanted to unwind.
The sky up in the mountains started to show some colours in front of me on the balcony; thus, I captured it. I stepped outside to get the better view until the sunset speaks of Him. It’s so beautiful (for me) because it’s been a while since I saw many colours of the sunset due to the dry season. I watched it together with the flying birds glorifying Him and the karaoke background. It was just a good feeling that I softly jumped, turned around and said, “My God, it’s beautiful.” Yes, I feel happy about small things.
Then Mama and I eat our dinner together on the balcony while appreciating the big umbrella circling the moon. It was a lovely day for me.
Thank you so much for listening, watching, and reading, my amazing readers. Stay incredible and have a happy weekend!
Somewhere between being busy and extremely sleep deprived, there’s autopilot.
That’s where I was today. The day was a blur. I got the things done but I don’t remember doing them. Like when you’re driving and not paying attention, yet you are paying attention and then arrive and don’t know how you got there.
Little baby RR had an appointment with the pediatrician, he’s gained a tiny bit of weight so that’s good news and then we went to a hearing test that took ninety minutes! It involved little electrodes on his head and he had to be asleep for it.
Cordelia is taking the night shift with him tonight so hopefully I will get a good night’s rest.
Other good things: the sun is rising closer to 8:30 am now, yay! And not setting til nearly 5:00 pm, yay! January has been brutally cold so all I’d like to say to it as it leaves this weekend is don’t let the door hit you on the way out!
Don’t know what I would do without my root cover-upper, aka the beret
Hello dear friends, I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood.
Some memories fade with time, but others remain vivid—etched permanently into the heart. For many of us, the memory of our first computer belongs firmly to the second category.
It wasn’t just a machine; it was a milestone, a quiet revolution that entered our homes and changed the rhythm of daily life forever.
I still remember the day our first computer arrived. It was the early 1990s, a time when computers were not sleek or silent. This one was bulky, beige, and unapologetically dominant in both size and presence.
A heavy CRT monitor sat proudly on the desk, accompanied by a large CPU that hummed with authority. The keyboard had a firm, reassuring click—each keystroke felt important, almost ceremonial.
The computer ran on MS-DOS, with Windows 3.1 acting as a gateway to a graphical world that felt astonishing at the time. A 486 processor powered it, and though its capabilities seem modest today, back then it felt like owning a piece of the future.
Why We Brought It Home
The decision to buy a computer wasn’t impulsive. It was thoughtful and layered with purpose. First and foremost, it was for the family—especially the children.
Schools had begun introducing computers into their curriculum, and it was clear that digital literacy would soon become essential.
Having a computer at home meant giving them a head start, a chance to explore and learn beyond textbooks.
There was also a professional motivation. Computerization was steadily transforming the banking sector, and adapting to this change was no longer optional.
Even without deep technical knowledge, I knew that familiarity with computers would be crucial in the years ahead.
And then there was curiosity—the irresistible pull of something new. A computer promised endless possibilities: learning, creativity, exploration. It felt like opening a door to a world we didn’t yet fully understand.
The Big Setup Day
Setting up the computer was an event worthy of celebration. The entire family gathered as the boxes were opened one by one.
Connecting cables felt like solving a puzzle, guided carefully by the user manual. When everything was finally in place and the power button was pressed, the loud startup beep filled the room—and with it came a sense of triumph.
The black screen with the blinking MS-DOS prompt may have looked intimidating, but to us it was magical.
That simple cursor represented possibility. Hours were spent learning commands, navigating directories, and slowly gaining confidence.
Programs like WordPerfect and Lotus 1-2-3 became part of daily life.
Even basic programming in GW-BASIC felt empowering—typing lines of code and watching the computer obey felt nothing short of miraculous.
A New Member of the Family
Before long, the computer became woven into our everyday routine. Children typed school assignments, created simple projects, and played educational games.
Classics like Prince of Persia and Pac-Man brought joy and laughter, often drawing a small audience around the screen.
For me, the computer was a teacher. It introduced me to word processing, spreadsheets, and even early forms of email—something that felt almost futuristic at the time. Learning was slow but deeply satisfying.
That computer wasn’t just a tool; it was a companion. It witnessed curiosity, frustration, excitement, and growth. It shaped habits and opened minds.
Looking Back with Gratitude
Today, technology has evolved beyond imagination. We carry powerful computers in our pockets, connected instantly to the world. Yet, the thrill of that first computer remains unmatched.
It taught an invaluable lesson: the importance of embracing change. It showed that learning never truly stops and that investing in the future—especially for one’s children—can have lifelong impact.
As I watch my children succeed in a digital world, I can’t help but smile, knowing that a humble beige machine played a small but meaningful role in their journey.
The first computer is like the first chapter of a book. It sets the tone, sparks curiosity, and invites us forward.
My journey began with a blinking cursor in the early 1990s—and it’s a beginning I will always treasure.
So tell me—do you remember your first computer? Those early moments didn’t just shape our memories; they shaped the digital lives we live today.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I can’t believe we’re already nearing the end of the first month of the new year. The weather seems just as confused – warming up one moment, dipping again in the early mornings. It won’t be long before summer fully invades. Spring, for us, is more a season by name than by nature.
Earlier this evening, my little girl said something thoughtful. Two of her friends are at loggerheads, and she’s caught in between. It’s been more than a week now, and the fight seems quite serious. Today she said, if only they forgive each other, they can like each other again. Oh, to be a child – where life is simple and feelings are uncomplicated.
Her words made me pause and think about forgiveness. How does it come so easily in childhood, and where did we lose the plot in adulthood? Perhaps apologizing and forgiving aren’t always difficult – depending, of course, on the circumstances and the severity of what has occurred. But an apology doesn’t mean everything is forgotten. I believe it opens the door to deeper communication and the possibility of resolving conflict. To assume that an apology alone fixes everything is to miss several pieces of the puzzle.
Still, apology and forgiveness do have one undeniable gift; they lighten the load for both parties.
“I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.” — **Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner
A gentle reflection on finding comfort in small rituals. “Me and My Tea” is a quiet poem about pause, warmth, and learning to be present with life—one sip at a time.
Me and My Tea
Me and my tea— we meet every day like old friends who don’t need reasons anymore.
The world can be loud, demanding answers, asking me to be stronger, faster, better. But my tea never asks. It just waits, steaming gently, as if saying, “Sit. Breathe. I’m here.”
In its warmth, my tired hands find comfort. In its silence, my crowded thoughts loosen their grip. Some days it tastes of hope, some days of quiet sadness, and some days— just survival.
I tell my tea things I don’t tell people. About dreams I paused, about losses I sip around, about mornings that feel heavy and nights that refuse to sleep.
My tea listens without fixing me. It doesn’t rush my healing or judge my pauses. It cools when I need time, and warms me when I feel empty.
So when the world feels sharp, you’ll find me here. Me and my tea. Choosing stillness over noise. Choosing presence over perfection. Learning—quietly, tenderly— how to live one honest sip at a time.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood too.
Today’s writing prompt made me smile knowingly: “Name an attraction or town close to home that you still haven’t got around to visiting.”
Isn’t it funny how this question gently exposes one of our most common habits—taking what’s nearby completely for granted?
For me, the answer is the old heritage fort that sits barely forty minutes from my home. It’s one of those places that appear in school textbooks, weekend newspapers, and tourist brochures.
Visitors from faraway cities plan entire itineraries around it, cameras in hand and curiosity in their eyes.
And yet, despite living so close that I could visit and be back before dinner, I still haven’t gone.
This isn’t because I don’t appreciate history or culture.
In fact, I love both. The fort is centuries old, built with weathered stone walls that have witnessed battles, dynasties, and dramatic turns of fate.
I’ve read about it, seen photographs, and even listened to excited stories from friends who visited while playing tour guide to out-of-town guests.
Still, every time I consider going, I say the same thing: “I’ll do it someday.”
And someday, as we all know, has a habit of quietly slipping into never.
There’s something deeply ironic about how distance adds value. If this fort were in another state—or another country—I would probably plan months in advance, book tickets, research its history, and wake up early to explore it properly.
But because it’s close, it feels endlessly accessible, and therefore endlessly postponable. Familiarity breeds not just contempt, but complacency.
I think many of us share this blind spot.
We chase novelty far away while overlooking the stories rooted right under our noses.
The nearby town, the local museum, the lake we pass every day on our commute—these places fade into the background of daily life.
They become landmarks we reference rather than experiences we absorb.
Another reason I haven’t visited is the illusion of “perfect timing.”
I tell myself I’ll go when I’m less busy, when the weather is ideal, when I have the right company, or when I can give it my full attention.
But life rarely clears its calendar for us. If anything, it gets louder and fuller. Waiting for the perfect moment often means missing the moment entirely.
What this prompt reminded me is that unexplored places close to home are not just destinations—they’re opportunities.
Opportunities to slow down, to reconnect with our surroundings, and to see our own lives from a slightly different angle.
Visiting that fort wouldn’t just be about architecture or history; it would be about breaking routine. It would be about becoming a tourist in my own life, if only for an afternoon.
There’s also a deeper emotional layer here.
Sometimes we avoid nearby places because they feel too ordinary, or because we assume they’ll always be there. But nothing is guaranteed.
Attractions close for renovations, natural beauty changes, and our own lives move in unexpected directions.
One day, we may move away and realize we never truly knew the place we once called home.
My Final Submission
This writing prompt, simple as it seems, is actually a gentle nudge toward mindfulness.
It asks us to notice what we’re overlooking. It challenges us to question why we’re always looking ahead instead of around.
And it quietly encourages us to reclaim curiosity—not for distant horizons, but for the familiar streets and stories that shaped us.
So yes, that fort is still waiting for me. And now, instead of treating it as a background detail, I’m choosing to see it as an invitation.
Perhaps next weekend, I’ll finally go—not as a resident who’s “been meaning to,” but as a visitor who’s ready to listen.
After all, sometimes the most meaningful journeys don’t require a suitcase—just a little interest.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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That’s easy to answer today. If I won the lottery I’d quit my job, which kind of sucks because I love my job, and stay at home being a foster parent. Old news to anyone who reads my blog.
I still have this little tiny baby RR. It was supposed to be for just one night until they found a more permanent home for him but so far they can’t find one. I would love to keep him but there aren’t any daycares that take one month old babies. And I need to work. I can’t afford to stay home.
Plus, the thought of doing everything all over again scares the crap out of me. All the diapers, the worries over daycare, potty training etc. It’s a lot. And I feel like we just did it all over again when Sid came into our lives almost four years ago.
Also, the part about raising a really good human is much pressure. Much, much. It’s one thing to provide love and a good home. Do the birthday parties, trick or treating, the tooth fairy. But it’s quite another to realize that the success in life of this little person depends on you.
I’m lacking sleep big time and should be napping right now while baby is but for some reason I can’t relax enough to fall asleep.
Couple more pics from fishing on SundayThis bridge was kind of scary, it’s only one lane & apparently not maintained
This poem reflects my journey as an artist, facing a blank canvas with both fear and courage. It explores vulnerability, resilience, and the strong desire to create.
Each line acknowledges the struggles, self-doubt, and passion that make art essential. This is my commitment to showing up genuinely through my art.
My Artful Stand
When I stand before a blank canvas, I feel a breath between fear and flame, Where colors tremble, honest and raw, And thought steps forward, ready to show.
This is my artful stand—no borrowed voice, No timid stroke hiding behind doubt, Each line a choice, each hue a truth, Each mark a cry I once locked out.
I paint not for praise, nor to be perfect, But to stay alive, to deeply feel, To turn my scars into gentle light, And make the invisible real.
There were days I nearly stepped away, Afraid my hands would fail my heart, But the ache of not creating hurt far more Than the fear of where to start.
So I rise with brush, the canvas revealed, Defying the urge to disappear, Each painting whispering, I am here, Still dreaming, still sincere.
For my art is not just color and line, It is breath, it is faith, it is who I am— And in every stroke, I take my stand, An artist, alive, with a soul in flame..
Who is giving me the winning numbers, because the lottery has been pretending it doesn’t know me or has been actively ignoring me.
If I won the lottery, I’d settle financial matters, keep quiet, and do something for the strays.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been hooked on watching animal rescue videos. Watching animals being rescued, saved, and eventually finding loving homes brings both heartbreak and warmth. With snowstorms sweeping parts of the United States, I saw many animals rescued, but it also raised questions – what happens to them after the storm?
One video left a strong impression. Somewhere out of Bakersfield – cold, windy, and raining – it showed a homeless man and his dog, the man looked utterly defeated. The comments said they were both getting help.
Closer to home, this morning I saw a headline about strays possibly being poisoned. The report said around three hundred strays were found dead in a southern state. Apparently, this wasn’t the first such incident.
Then there was another headline – a loyal Pitbull found standing guard over the bodies of two teenage boys who died in a heavy snowstorm up north. The dog stayed beside its owner for four days, refusing to leave even amidst biting cold and relentless snowfall.
It makes me question who’s more human.
I have my own little army of bodyguards too. It’s emotional how they jump with joy and follow us around. My daughter has even named the strays . A new stray cat has started appearing at our window, though not regularly. I still miss the one who didn’t return. I’m left wondering what happened to him and hoping he’s safe.
The way strays are largely ignored and neglected is deeply distressing. I wish there was more we could do. My little girl wishes we had so much money so she could adopt all the strays – and other animals too .
And, if I ever win the lottery, I’d probably disappear… and also suffer selective memory loss, since I wouldn’t know anyone anymore. So if you don’t see or hear from me, I’ve won the jackpot .
That’s definitely better than the other, more morbid thought.
Hello dear friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and good health.
Today’s writing prompt, “Describe your most ideal day from beginning to end,” made me nostalgic and joyful at the same time.
As I reflected on it, I realized that yesterday was truly one such day—an ideal day filled with excitement, happiness, laughter, and heartfelt moments shared with loved ones.
I believe an ideal day begins with a peaceful mind and a healthy body, and mine started exactly that way.
My morning began with a sense of gratitude
When I woke up in the morning, the weather felt wonderfully pleasant. After a week of severe cold, this change was refreshing and uplifting.
I silently thanked God for blessing me with good health and a cheerful mood. Such gratitude itself sets a positive tone for the entire day.
My morning walk turned out to be especially delightful. In the park, I met a new senior citizen friend who was extremely talkative and full of life.
To everyone’s amusement, he entertained our group by dancing joyfully to a popular filmy song. His energy and enthusiasm spread smiles all around, and my morning felt truly “smiling” in every sense.
Moments like these remind me that age is just a number when the spirit is young.
My ideal day always includes a peaceful and restful sleep, followed by a healthy breakfast rich in fresh fruits, whole grains, and protein.
After breakfast, I spent some quality time meditating and practicing yoga in the park. These moments of mindfulness help clear my thoughts, energize my body, and prepare me mentally for the day ahead.
The picnic spot unfolded like a dream –
Since it was a holiday, the entire family was relaxed, with no urgency to rush off to work or follow the usual daily routine.
We had already planned a picnic to a beautiful place called Dudhia, located just 12 kilometers from our residence.
This picnic was planned to celebrate the New Year, making it even more special. We packed our lunch, gathered our essentials, and set off for a joyful excursion.
The place called Dudhia
Dudhia welcomed us with a shallow river flowing gracefully, offering a stunning natural view. The sun shone gently, and a cool breeze made the weather absolutely perfect.
The atmosphere was lively yet peaceful. My granddaughter was the happiest among us, enjoying every moment with laughter and curiosity. Watching her joy added warmth to my heart.
I took a leisurely walk, wandering across open black rocks, with the flowing river on one side and nature’s beauty on the other.
The view was astonishing. We enjoyed our lunch sitting on a rock right in the middle of the shallow river, surrounded by sunlight and cool air.
That simple meal, shared amidst nature, made the day truly memorable. Around us, other families and small groups were also celebrating picnic parties on New Year’s Eve, filling the place with cheerful vibes.
We captured these beautiful moments through videography and photography, preserving memories to cherish forever.
The lush green grass, trees swaying with the wind, birds chirping, water flowing over rocks—all of it touched me deeply. Nature often brings tears to my eyes, as I am someone who freely expresses emotions.
Such moments of togetherness and leisure with family are rare in today’s fast-paced life, making them even more precious.
witnessed a mesmerizing sunset
As evening approached, we witnessed a mesmerizing sunset. The sky painted itself with beautiful colors, filling our hearts with peace and contentment.
I consciously recognized, welcomed, and cherished those moments, capturing them in our camera and in my heart.
We enjoyed hot soup and roasted corn from roadside vendors, which tasted heavenly in the cool evening air.
Before darkness set in, we decided to return home, as local people warned us that wild animals—especially elephants—often come to the area surrounded by dense forests.
We packed our bags, loaded the car, and started our journey back with chants of “Jai Shree Ram.” Smiles were visible on every face as we returned safely.
The evening with sporty Fun
Back home, we enjoyed tea and snacks together, continuing our family time. Later in the evening, I joined my favorite indoor game—table tennis.
I played five matches with young players and, as a senior citizen, won three of them! That achievement brought immense joy and confidence. Physical activity always refreshes me and keeps my spirit high.
The day concluded perfectly with my night routine—blog writing. Sitting at my reading table,
I opened my WordPress account and was thrilled to see that my previous blog had crossed 1000+ views and received over 450 comments.
That moment lifted me to the skies. I felt deeply thankful to my online friends who constantly support and encourage me, lighting the way to my success.
From a smiling morning to a grateful night, this day truly justified the meaning of an ideal day.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Can’t remember the last time I woke up feeling this rough. That hangover type of feeling is strange to me now, thank goodness. I couldn’t do this all the time, not anymore.
Is there anything cuter?
This is the guy who kept me up late and up throughout the night, he’s all of about maybe six pounds. Born a month early and is a month old so I’m guessing he should’ve been coming into this world right about now.
The agency called me around five pm yesterday, would I take a baby for the night? An emergency placement, just one night. How could I say no? So I said yes.
Thankfully classes for me don’t start til February 2 so I am able to work from home today and keep this little guy happy and fed until they find a suitable foster home for him. It’s hard not to get attached though.
Imagine to ignore this question even if it’s repetitive.
I want to read The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini. I’ve been circling this book for the past few months but I’ve yet to get it. I don’t want it to gather dust so I’ve held out purchasing it.
I also have a mental to be read list. I’d like to re-read The Thing Beneath The Thing by Ps.Steve Ryan Carter, understanding our actions that stem from trauma. Another one is Grieve, Breath, Receive also by Ps.Steve Ryan Carter. I have to understand this grieving. There’s half a life that requires mourning, from childhood to yesterday.
Are we blessed to be in this generation where there’s more knowledge, research and understanding about our holistic well being or unfortunate to be from a generation that taught us resilience, independence and no bs but our emotional well being lacked nurturing. I guess, every generation has their pros and cons.
I have to read The Little Prince to my gen alpha girl. She takes so much pride being a gen alpha. Then, there’s the book we got at the Christmas gift exchange. I’m sure I’ll find quite a few as the year progresses. But first, I have two on hold, which I must complete. A few chapters left on each.
I’d like to be more intentional with my reading. To make time and pour into them. I have this habit of zooming through, especially fiction. Some are heavy reading I’d need to sit and breathe with each.
Hopefully, this year is filled with productive reading.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt—“What’s your favorite thing to cook?”—may sound simple at first glance, but the more I sat with it, the more revealing it became.
Our favorite dish is rarely just about taste. It is about memory, mood, identity, and the quiet joy of creating something nourishing with our own hands.
If I had to choose one thing without hesitation, it would be a slow-cooked, soulful pot of food—the kind that simmers patiently, fills the house with warmth, and tastes even better the next day.
A rich stew, a fragrant curry, or a humble pot of dal bubbling gently on the stove. Not rushed. Not flashy. Just honest food with depth.
What makes this my favorite isn’t only the final dish—it’s the process. Slow cooking invites presence.
You chop vegetables with intention, listen to the soft sizzle as onions meet hot ghee, and breathe in aromas that feel almost therapeutic.
In a world obsessed with speed, cooking slowly feels like a quiet, rebellious act of self-care.
There’s something deeply comforting about dishes like these. They remind us that food has always been more than fuel.
Across cultures and generations, slow-cooked meals have been a language of love. They’re made for families, for shared tables, for conversations that stretch long after the plates are empty.
Even when I cook only for myself, that sense of connection lingers. One pot can hold nostalgia, tradition, and belonging all at once.
For me, that pot is often dal.
Today, as I prepared it, I realized I wasn’t just using ingredients—I was stirring memories.
The aroma carried echoes of childhood afternoons, my mother moving effortlessly around the kitchen, laughter floating through the house.
Dal may be modest, but it is powerful. It has nourished generations, crossed borders, and adapted endlessly, all while remaining comfort in its purest form.
Another reason slow cooking is my favorite is its flexibility. These dishes are forgiving. You can adjust spices, swap ingredients, and trust your instincts.
No tomatoes? Add lemon. No fresh herbs? Dried ones will do. Cooking this way builds confidence. It reminds us that perfection isn’t the goal—feeling is.
Creativity plays a role too.
Every time I cook dal, it turns out a little different. Some days it gets extra garlic because life demands boldness.
Other days, more chili for energy, or a squeeze of lemon when the mood feels heavy.
I measure not in spoons, but in emotions—a little extra ghee if someone’s had a hard day, gentler spices when comfort is needed.
I once read a quote that stayed with me: “Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.”
My dal follows that philosophy. Though simple, it is cooked with the same intention as a chef plating a fine meal. This is why certain recipes become favorites—they grow with us and carry our personal signature.
Over the years, I’ve shared this recipe many times. I’ve emailed it to friends living abroad, scribbled it on paper for a stranger on a train, and demonstrated it during community cooking sessions.
Passing it on feels like handing someone a small piece of my heart.
And I love how people adapt it—adding ginger, swapping ghee for olive oil, tossing in spinach. Recipes, like stories, evolve when shared.
There’s also practical joy in slow-cooked food. It stretches further, feeds more people, and reduces waste.
Leftovers transform into new meals. It’s economical, sustainable, and deeply satisfying—proof that good food doesn’t need to be complicated or expensive.
Cooking this way grounds me.
Most importantly, cooking this way grounds me. The rhythm of stirring, tasting, waiting—it’s almost meditative.
When life feels overwhelming, the kitchen becomes a sanctuary. Problems soften when your hands are busy and your heart is present.
So when I reflect on the question, “What’s your favorite thing to cook?” my answer goes beyond a single recipe. My favorite thing to cook is comfort itself—food that nourishes both body and soul, that invites patience, creativity, and connection.
And now, dear friends, I ask you: what is your favorite dish? Not just the recipe, but the memory it carries. The smell that pulls you home. The taste that tells your story.
Cook it today—not for an occasion, but for life itself. Because sometimes, the greatest treasures are found in the simplest bowls.
Happy cooking, and may your kitchens always be filled with warmth.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Last weekend, my youngest sister went home again, and we cooked “potomaya,” a sticky rice with coconut milk. We pair it with coffee since Mama mixed it for me, but my sister prepared juice, too, so I drink both. A little greedy. SnacksAunt gave this, too
Our pets are around. Virgo was sleeping in the corner, while Blacky was lying peacefully on the floor. We know they are choosy because they love eating raw fish and meat, but looked it up. My youngest sister teased them by putting a little sticky rice near their nose while they were sleeping, but they didn’t care. It looks like they never smell anything. But, my sister also cooked noodles, and Virgo loves it; thus, her nose was functioning again. My second eldest sister brought some fruits for us, too.
Not functioning I didn’t smell anything Functioning nose
Around sunset, we went to the river for some short walk and firewood. Blacky is a kind of anxious dog, but watching Whitey cross the tiny river confidently, he was determined to follow, and as always, I enjoyed their presence and can’t stop supporting him in this video.
My niece runs, following our dogs, as the river looks like a big playground now due to our dry season. My neighbors went with us, too.
On the way home, Papa rode the sack of firewood to our carabao, Titat, and he said while I captured him, “I’ll be included in the blog again, expressing with his soft smile.” I said, “Of course!”
Indeed, my weekend was wonderful with my family in my little world. Thank you so much for your kind support as always. Stay amazing and happy Tuesday, my amazing readers!
“Be slow to fall into friendship, but when you are in, continue firm and constant.” — Socrates
“Friendship was witnessing another’s slow drip of miseries, and long bouts of boredom, and occasional triumphs. It was feeling honored by the privilege of getting to be present for another person’s most dismal moments, and knowing that you could be dismal around him in return.” — Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life
Today, the flip side to this is that care enough to check on them and you’re perceived as a looney, and when you don’t care enough, you’re perceived as uncaring, indifferent, and untrue. There’s no winning – and yet, this remains the truest meaning of friendship to me: not in how it is received, but in how it’s offered.
I know that yesterday some places that usually don’t experience snowstorms, in the US and Canada, were hit with lots of the white stuff but meanwhile up here, the temps warmed up to a balmy -22 Celsius/-7.6 Fahrenheit.
Sid and I decided to use the beautiful Sunday to go ice fishing with Clint. The place we went takes about an hour to drive to and involves driving on winter roads or “ice roads” as in the tv show Ice Road Truckers.
I hate to even say the word ice these days, it stings and then the sadness and shock sweeps over. But this was not that kind of ice.
Back to the fishing, I decided that I would not fight change, improvement or technology and actually watch and fish to the fish finder piece of equipment Clint uses.
Normally I’m annoyed by it because I don’t pay attention to it, I just want to be out there blindly fishing but Clint can’t fish without it and he feels the need to point out to me when a fish is near my hook. Like I’m supposed to put on a song and dance to attract the fish and I don’t know how! I don’t like the pressure. But alas, yesterday I gave in.
You can see where your hook is in the water and you can see the fish swimming around it, coming for it and chasing it. The fish were a fickle bunch yesterday. Several times I could see them swimming around my hook and I did every dance I could think of, teasing them with my minnow but nope.
Anyway we had fun but didn’t catch any keepers to eat. The only keeper was the whitefish Clint will give to his friend to use for bait on his trapline.
The roadIt’s fascinating, I posted on my IG story & Cordelia replied saying what am I looking at? Ummm…it’s the ice, the roadYes there are cracks everywhereSometimes you can hear the cracks happens while you’re out thereSid, scared to hold the little perch lol
Write about a few of your favorite family traditions.
The repeat prompts are annoying. I’ve decided to start my own tradition. Get the family involved in doom scrolling for improved family mental health.
Scrolling social media is not all gloom and doom. I came across a few news worthy information . Some worth sharing
I came across a headline that reports, since Gen Z are not drinking alcohol, the liquor companies are planning to slash down the prices of alcohol. I’m not sure if that is good or bad news.
This is for cat lovers. There’s an island in Greece where one can live for free by taking care of stray cats. That sounds like cat paradise.
Women queue up from 4 AM to buy Mysore silk sarees in Bengaluru. Prices start from Rs. 23000 and goes up to Rs.250,000.
56% of men never got their hoodie back after lending it to a girl.
Police break out a loud party, arrived to find man hosting a fifth birthday celebration for rescue chicken with sixty guests.
Cat arrested in Bangkok for biting police officers.
A feral pig in Australia drank 18 cans of beer, fought a cow and then passed out under a tree.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and thoughtful mood.
Today’s writing prompt touched a deeply familiar corner of my heart the moment I read it: “Something on your ‘to-do list’ that never gets done.” A simple sentence, yet it carries the weight of our everyday lives, doesn’t it?
We all make to-do lists with great enthusiasm. New pages, fresh pens, neat bullet points. They give us a sense of control, direction, and hope.
We believe that once something is written down, it is halfway done. But reality often tells a different story.
Days pass, lists grow longer, and that one stubborn task remains untouched—quietly mocking us from the bottom of the page.
We are in the habit of making to-do lists to get work done on time, yet we repeatedly fail to complete everything on them.
And the most interesting part? The task that never gets done is rarely trivial.
It’s usually something deeply meaningful: starting a fitness routine, writing regularly, learning a new skill, meditating, calling an old friend, or finally prioritising our own well-being.
Why does this happen?
One major reason is postponement disguised as planning.
We tell ourselves, “I’ll do it tomorrow,” because tomorrow feels safer than today. Tomorrow promises more time, more energy, and a better version of ourselves.
Unfortunately, tomorrow often arrives carrying the same excuses as yesterday.
Another reason is mental exhaustion.
Modern life demands constant attention. Between professional responsibilities, family duties, and the never-ending digital noise, our minds are already overloaded.
When we finally get a moment to breathe, the last thing we want is to tackle a demanding or emotionally heavy task. Comfort wins, and the to-do list loses.
There’s also fear, though we rarely name it.
Fear of failure.
Fear of not being good enough.
Fear of discovering that we don’t enjoy the thing we thought we loved.
Leaving a task undone keeps our dreams intact. Once we start, we risk imperfection—and that vulnerability can feel uncomfortable.
Perfectionism plays its part too.
We wait for the perfect time, the perfect plan, the perfect mood. But perfection is an illusion.
Life doesn’t pause to become ideal; it keeps moving, messy and unpredictable. Waiting for perfect conditions often means waiting forever.
Over time, that unfinished task becomes more than just an item on a list. It turns into silent guilt.
Each time we rewrite it, we feel a small sting of disappointment. Slowly, we stop trusting our own promises, and motivation fades.
Here’s the gentle truth we all need to hear: this struggle does not make you lazy or undisciplined—it makes you human.
The answer isn’t longer to-do lists or harsher self-criticism. The answer lies in changing how we approach our tasks.
Instead of asking, “Why can’t I do this?” we should ask, “What is holding me back emotionally?” Is it fear? Is it fatigue? Is it uncertainty?
One powerful way forward is to start embarrassingly small.
Not one hour of exercise—just five minutes.
Not a full chapter—just one paragraph. Small steps build trust with ourselves. They tell our mind, “This is safe. This is possible.”
Another helpful shift is turning intentions into appointments.
When something is written into our calendar, it gains importance. We show up for meetings and obligations—why not show up for ourselves?
The Joy of Completion
Crossing a long-neglected task off your to-do list is one of life’s simplest yet most satisfying pleasures.
It’s a reminder of your ability to overcome inertia and move closer to your dreams. And who knows?
Most importantly, we must practice self-compassion. Life is not a competition, and productivity is not a measure of worth. Some days, surviving with grace is an achievement enough.
Perhaps that task on your to-do list isn’t waiting for more time or motivation. Maybe it’s waiting for kindness—from you to yourself.
So, what’s that one task on your to-do list that never gets done? Identify it, confront it, and take the first step. You might be surprised by how liberating it feels to finally turn “someday” into today
Tell me, friends: what is that one thing on your to-do list that never gets done?
BE HAPPY….BE ACTIVE….BE FOCUSED….BE ALIVE…
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Today our country celebrates its 77th Republic Day. Even as our nation moves toward progress and development externally, internally there remain many issues that need attention – and these begin with our hearts.
On this 77th year, I pray that our nation genuinely strives for change that uplifts and respects every individual, irrespective of caste, class, creed, or faith.
May we, as a people, awaken from the slumber of apathy we have fallen into. May we rise to unite and resist the divisive forces that plague our mindsets. May we remember our constitutional and fundamental rights – not to abuse or misuse them, but to honor what lies at their heart: that we are all citizens of this nation, equal in dignity and worth, regardless of economic status, race, caste, or faith.
The Constitution lives not only in courts and books, but in our everyday choices – how we speak, how we include, how we protect the dignity of others.
May our character be shaped into one that seeks the betterment of the nation through acts of service. May we learn to respect one another’s differences and choices. May our race, color, or status not determine how we treat one another. A mature nation allows disagreement without dehumanization.
May we not grow comfortable with prevailing disparities. Instead, may we feel a collective responsibility to encourage, support, and uplift those who are less privileged.
May our leaders never lose sight of the fact that policies exist for the welfare of the people – not to protect or privilege a few, but to serve the many with fairness and justice. May humility and integrity be the bedrock on which our leaders stand, and may justice and mercy remain pursuits we never tire of.
Patriotism is not volume or visibility, but consistency. Quiet acts of honesty, fairness, and care are nation-building too.
As we mark this day of celebration, may we also pause for honest introspection – remembering that the true strength of a republic is not measured by symbols or speeches alone, but by how faithfully its values are lived each day.
John F. Kennedy’s words remain as relevant today as ever: “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.” As citizens, may we embrace this sense of personal responsibility – to do what we can, when we can – without waiting for someone else to take the first step.
Change is slow, but still possible when people choose decency daily.
They don’t make thin plastic bags like they used to…
Finally had a chance to listen to my earlier recordings of our walks and determined the input volume of 85 was still too low to fully capture the epic sound of a frenzied murder of crows.
So this morning I tried 90.
What? You thought the title meant 90 crows?
I wish…
About fifteen crows this morning.
Though this one may have been an eldritch trans-dimensional being…
We started much earlier, so encountered only one couple walking a (very large) dog.
And lots of flowers.
And then home to my morning coffee ritual.
I wonder what today’s secret ingredient is. I suspect the Missus is adding arsenic!
I have to admit that I still haven’t gotten into podcasts. I see them everywhere. Everyone and their dog now has a podcast. And I’m sure I’m missing something. Sometimes I’m a little late to the party. In five or so years I’m going to all over podcasts, obsessed with them going why didn’t I know about podcasts before now??
I think if I had a podcast and could actually have an individual in front of me these are the things I’d want to know:
-if you don’t reach for coffee in the morning, first of all what is wrong with you, but second, what do you reach for? And if it is coffee, how do you take it?
-do you have houseplants? Do you love them, are you attached to them? If one of them died, would you be sad?
-what are you actually doing on a Saturday night? If it’s just four hours of scrolling on your phone, I wanna know. (So I can feel normal)
-do you cook supper most nights? If so, what do you make and if not, what do you eat?
Then maybe I’d delve in to some deeper questions about their past and their life. Before I was hired to work for our local newspaper, I began by submitting my own original writing, which consisted of me “interviewing” then writing about people’s lives.
Looking back now I can’t believe they trusted me to tell their story. What a thrill. I’d love to do that again someday.
I love him & I think I would actually cry if he died, he’s an avocado tree! I’m keeping an avocado tree alive!Look where I live! And I’m keeping an avocado tree alive!
This poem reflects the quiet emotions we often hide behind everyday smiles—the dreams we postpone, the fears that hold us back, and the small inner voice that never stops calling us toward what we truly love.
It gently reminds us that it is never too late to listen to ourselves and begin again.
# Not Too Late #
I laughed out loud, but deep inside, A quieter heart still softly cried. I did what life asked me to do, Left some old dreams half-way through.
I waited long, I stayed afraid, Put hopes away, the plans I made. Yet still a voice won’t let me be, It whispers low, “Come back to me.”
Maybe time has not shut the gate, Maybe dreams don’t die—they wait.
Fear is an odd companion. It hides in the corners of our minds, whispering doubts, exaggerating risks, and convincing us that staying in our comfort zone is the safest choice.
Yet, often the very fears we avoid hold the keys to growth, courage, and even happiness.
The writing prompt, “What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?” is compelling because it forces us to confront the tension between fear and desire, hesitation and action.
For me, the thing I’ve been most scared to do is traveling by airplane.
It might sound unusual to some, but this fear has haunted me for years. Even the sight of a plane flying high in the sky used to make my heart pound.
Thoughts of engine failure and catastrophic accidents dominated my imagination, and over time, I felt embarrassed by this fear, worried that others might laugh.
Fears are deeply personal, and what may seem trivial to one person can be paralyzing to another.
One of my close friends, for example, was terrified of darkness. She avoided elevators at night, preferring the staircase because she imagined the lights failing and being trapped in pitch-black fear.
Such fears, while seemingly small, reveal something profound: vulnerability is universal, and fear comes in countless forms.
Story of my first air journey
My own confrontation with fear began unexpectedly.
One ordinary workday, my manager handed me a plane ticket. “You have a flight at three o’clock today,” he said. “You need to go to Delhi for Hindi Divas tomorrow.”
My mind went blank. Panic surged. I pleaded, “Can’t someone else go?”
His response was firm: “You’re the Hindi officer. This is your responsibility. Prepare yourself and go.” Helpless but determined, I took a deep breath, acknowledged my fear, and accepted the challenge.
That evening, I arrived at Patna Airport, my heart racing. At the counter, a kind staff member smiled and assigned me a window seat.
I wondered: What if something goes wrong? What if I need to escape?
But I boarded the plane anyway, buckled in, and listened as the air hostess assured us, “Fasten your seat belts. We guarantee a smooth takeoff.”
The plane lifted, turbulence shook the cabin, and I felt my anxiety spike.
Yet, as I looked around, I noticed something remarkable: life continued inside the aircraft.
People laughed, chatted, watched movies, and slept. Slowly, I closed my eyes, prayed, and realized the truth—the journey of life is a lot like the journey of this plane.
Takeoff and landing, birth and death, turbulence and calm—all are beyond our control. What matters is how we navigate the time in between.
I reflected: our choices, actions, and mindset are within our control. Fear may shake us, but courage is found in taking that first step, in acknowledging uncertainty and still moving forward.
By the time we landed, my perspective had shifted. Traveling by plane was no longer a terrifying prospect—it was an opportunity to embrace life fully.
This experience taught me an important lesson:
The thing we’re most scared to do often hides a path to growth. Confronting fear requires a combination of preparation, support, and determination.
For me, it took a sense of responsibility in my job, a push from my manager, and the inner resolve to face the anxiety rather than avoid it.
Each step I took, from boarding the plane to surviving turbulence, strengthened my confidence and resilience.
Fears exist for everyone. Some are common—spiders, darkness, heights. Others are more personal, tied to insecurities, past experiences, or imagined dangers.
What makes fear manageable is not its absence but our willingness to engage with it, to plan, prepare, and act despite it. By doing so, we reclaim control over our lives.
Facing our fears transforms not only how we approach challenges but also how we experience life. That first flight opened a new world for me.
It reminded me that life is beautiful, full of opportunities, and worth embracing—even when turbulence arises.
Just like a plane ride, the journey may feel shaky at times, but the destination—and the view along the way—makes every anxious moment worthwhile.
we should enjoy the beautiful life
So, to answer the writing prompt: The thing I was most scared to do was travel by airplane. What did it take to get me to do it? Courage, responsibility, guidance, and a willingness to step into the unknown.
The journey wasn’t just about reaching Delhi—it was about discovering that fear is not a barrier but a bridge to growth.
In life, we all must confront our fears. Whether it’s speaking in public, traveling alone, or pursuing a bold dream, the leap into the unknown is where transformation happens.
The journey might include turbulence, doubt, and discomfort—but the rewards, like breathtaking views from above, are incomparable.
Fear will always be there, but with courage, preparation, and determination, we can soar.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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More Ilford Delta 400 shots taken on my Olympus Pen EE-3 half-frame camera.
For details on what I was trying to do artistically, see the first post in this series.
Wrapping up the roll with this post, I took these last photos in a park after flooding rains.
It was a long walk through cold and wet, so I was tired and really wanted to sit down.
This last one is a hack job. The water was easily an inch deep and I had to walk through it. So I took a picture of the flooded trail and then, when I tried to take a picture of my soaking wet feet … the film was done.
24 exposures, just like I mentioned at the start of this series. But I bet you forgot too, just like I did, and thought this was a 36 exposure roll.
So, with great reluctance, I used my cell phone to photograph my feet. Then used filters to try and make it look film-like.
Oh well.
Next time: No idea. I need to pick a roll of film and shoot it.
You can walk directly around and even behind horses, if you trust them. But a horse you’re unfamiliar with, or is unfamiliar with you, you’re better off to stay at their head or sides.
I was looking through photos just now and remembered a dream I’d had a few nights ago where I anxiously walked past a horse’s rear end, knowing I was taking a chance to get kicked, as I didn’t know this horse.
I don’t know why I was dreaming of horses. Maybe subconsciously missing home or my childhood. Did you know that when you’re driving horses you say “gee” when you want them to go right and “haw” for left? Pretty cool.
There are no horses up here. No fields nor farms nor pastures. There’s only bush.
But I’m happy to have known horses when I did.
15 year old meMy Grampa AntichowDadBella-LenaTazCordelia on my niece Adria’s horseMomHolding Bella-Lena, pregnant with TazMy birthday party one year, our gentle Beaver pulling the sleigh
So many of us move through life doing what is required, what is expected, what is sensible—while quietly postponing who we truly are.
We learn to survive before we learn to live. Dreams are delayed, not abandoned, yet the waiting slowly weighs on the heart.
Still Unfinished
We smiled our way through noisy days, While tears inside stayed well-behaved. In crowded rooms we stood alone, Our truest pain was never shown.
Each day we played the roles we knew, Did what was asked, what we must do. We told our dreams, “Just wait your turn,” And felt the slow, familiar burn.
Once we believed life would be kind, With time to rest and space to shine. But time taught us to bend, not fight, And we gave up ourselves first, every night.
We looked so strong to passing eyes, As if we never broke inside. Even tears had rules to meet— Is your sorrow valid? Is it complete?
Yet somewhere deep, a voice remains, Soft but steady, free of chains. It whispers low, “You’re not too late, Begin again. Don’t hesitate.”
Maybe this is the truth we learn: Life is more than waiting your turn. The heaviest weight we ever bear Is the life we left unfinished there?
Hello dear friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective mood.
Today’s Bloganuary writing prompt caught my attention the moment I read it: “What would you do if you won the lottery?” It’s one of those questions that instantly awakens the dreamer in all of us.
Have you ever experienced that surreal dream where you win the lottery and suddenly your life transforms into a kaleidoscope of endless possibilities?
Last night, I found myself immersed in that very scenario. As the numbers aligned perfectly in my favor, I became the fortunate winner of a whopping one crore.
The euphoria was overwhelming. In that dreamlike state, my mind raced ahead, sketching a vivid blueprint for a life filled with happiness, excitement, and adventure.
A Morning Reality Check
As the morning sun streamed gently through our window, I reluctantly bid farewell to my dream world. I was awakened by the melodious whistle of my wife, gently reminding me that it was time to get up and face reality.
Though the dream had ended, its magic lingered. It left me wondering—what if, just for a moment, we allowed ourselves to imagine winning the lottery and explored how it could reshape our lives?
Embracing the Adventure of Travel
The first thought that crossed my mind in my dream was travel. With financial worries set aside, the world would become my canvas.
From the serene beaches of Bali to the bustling streets of Tokyo, every destination would offer a new chapter of adventure, culture, and discovery.
I imagined myself unwinding in the Maldives, surrounded by crystal-clear waters and luxurious overwater bungalows.
The historical wonders of Rome, especially the grandeur of the Colosseum, called out to my curious soul.
I saw myself swept into the vibrant rhythm of samba during the Carnival in Rio de Janeiro, surrounded by music, colors, and celebration.
In Paris, I wandered along the River Seine, savoring warm croissants in cozy cafés while admiring the timeless beauty of the Eiffel Tower.
And in Santorini, I stood silently as the sun dipped into the Aegean Sea, painting the sky with shades of crimson and gold.
This journey wasn’t just about visiting places—it was about experiencing diverse cultures, cuisines, languages, and traditions, deepening my appreciation for the beauty of our world.
Investing in Passion Projects
With a sudden influx of wealth, why not turn long-cherished dreams into reality?
Whether it’s starting a small business, writing a novel, or launching a podcast, a lottery win could become the fuel that transforms passion into purpose.
The thought of materializing ideas that had been quietly waiting for the right moment was deeply inspiring.
Such ventures wouldn’t only bring personal fulfillment but could also inspire others.
When wealth is channeled into creativity and innovation, it creates ripples—uplifting communities and reminding us that dreams are not just fleeting thoughts, but achievable visions.
Creating Unforgettable Experiences
Life, at its core, is a collection of moments. Winning the lottery would offer the beautiful opportunity to create unforgettable experiences for loved ones.
From surprise family vacations to joyful celebrations, sharing happiness would become a priority.
True wealth lies in relationships—the laughter shared, the memories created, and the bonds strengthened.
Crafting these moments for family and friends would be a privilege, leaving behind a legacy far richer than material possessions.
Philanthropy with Purpose
A lottery win also carries responsibility. In my dream, I envisioned supporting charitable causes that align with my values—education, healthcare, and community development.
The idea of giving back and making a meaningful difference filled me with purpose.
Using wealth to uplift others transforms a personal blessing into collective progress. It’s a way to ensure that good fortune doesn’t end with us but becomes a source of hope for many.
Learning, Growth, and Financial Wisdom
I strongly believe that a life without learning is a life half-lived.
With newfound wealth, I would invest in education—learning new skills, attending workshops, and perhaps even pursuing a long-awaited master’s degree. Growth keeps life exciting and meaningful.
At the same time, I recognized the importance of financial wisdom. Sudden wealth can be fragile if not managed carefully.
Consulting financial experts, planning investments wisely, and ensuring long-term stability would be essential to protect the future.
Staying Grounded in Gratitude
Above all, my dream reminded me to stay grounded. Gratitude is the anchor that keeps us balanced amid abundance.
Appreciating both extraordinary opportunities and simple daily joys—the warmth of sunlight, shared laughter, quiet moments—brings true fulfillment.
Though my lottery win existed only in a dream, the inspiration it left behind was very real. As I stepped into my day, I carried a spark of that dream within me.
After all, with creativity, gratitude, and determination, who says some of those lottery-inspired dreams can’t find their place in our waking reality?
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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In the words of Yoga from Empire Strikes Back: “No. There is another…”
Lots of flowers, most of them tiny.
Peek-a-boo! I see you!
Now that’s a real shame when folks be throwin’ away a perfectly good white flower like that.
And then, just past the halfway point, some crows finally noticed me.
About eleven all told.
Not an impressive turnout, but not the worst.
A possible solution to the housing crisis?
The thieving bastard at work.
And then my morning coffee ritual. Drank the coffee at home, wrote this post during the fading remnants of my lunch.
Cower before my mighty caffeine power, puny mortal!
While the Rat-X remains untouched, the faint aroma of death I noted this morning has, by all reports, intensified. So, a form of progress on the pest front.
I know what I’m doing when I get home…
Work has been extremely stressful again today. A consequence of being stuck in an all-day off-site meeting while one of your critical tools is down…
The word fun stresses me out. Am I supposed to be out there having fun? Am I failing at life if I’m not? It’s so much pressure.
This is not a jab at my parents but I don’t think I was raised to have fun. They both worked hard. All the time. That’s not to say there was never fun incorporated into our lives, it was inserted if and when there was time.
A hot sunny Sunday when the crops were still coming up and not yet ripe enough to be harvested, we’d pack a picnic lunch and go up to the lake as a family.
A Friday evening if Dad got his field work finished early enough, he’d grab the baseball bat and ball. Us girls would put our baseball gloves on and we’d play 500.
I suppose winter gave way for more leisure time because that was Dad’s off season. Snowmobiling, ice fishing, cross country skiing. Once or twice a winter Mom would take us downhill skiing at Thunderhill, or Thunderbump as we called it.
But I don’t do most of these activities today.
To me, fun is just being content at home, ensuring Sid is content.
Is it just me or is it more complicated to have fun as an adult?
Oh if only you could see the grey roots under this hat!
This poem reflects resilience, creativity, and self-belief—showing an artist’s journey through struggle, persistence, and the quiet triumph of staying true to oneself.
Canvas of My Soul
In quiet dawn where dreams are born, I stand with hope, a little torn. With brush in hand and heart laid bare, I paint my truth, my doubt, my prayer.
The nights are long, the storms are loud, Yet art still lifts me from the crowd. Each empty page begins to call, I rise again each time I fall.
Through countless tries and endless days, I found my strength in scars and grays. Now dreams stand tall, strong and whole— Celebrate a year of art, a soulful goal.
Hello dear friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and energetic mood
Today’s Bloganuary writing prompt instantly caught my attention: “What are your favorite sports to watch and play?”
For me, this question is far more than a casual conversation.
It resonates deeply with my ongoing journey of fitness, discipline, joy, and self-discovery as I continue to chase fitness in 2026—not obsessively, but mindfully.
Sports: More Than a Hobby, a Way of Life
Sports have always been an integral part of my life, not merely as physical activity but as a source of motivation, mental clarity, and social connection.
As the years progress and I gracefully step into the senior citizen phase of life, I have become even more conscious of staying active.
Reduced physical activity, declining stamina, and creeping lethargy are common challenges at this stage—but ones I strongly refuse to surrender to.
While swimming has long been my all-time favorite sport—an excellent full-body workout that keeps the heart rate controlled, cools the body, and washes away stress.
Winter brings its own limitations. And that’s where my true sporting companion steps in.
Table Tennis: My Favorite Sport to Play and Watch
If you ask me about my favorite sport to play, my answer comes without hesitation: Table Tennis.
Fast, agile, mentally engaging, and endlessly exciting—Table Tennis is a sport that keeps both the body and mind alert.
Every rally demands focus, reflexes, coordination, and strategy. It’s not just about hitting the ball; it’s about anticipating your opponent’s next move.
That mental stimulation, especially at this stage of life, is priceless.
Watching Table Tennis is equally thrilling. The speed, spin, and precision at professional levels are mesmerizing.
Each match feels like a chess game played at lightning speed, and I never tire of observing how skill and strategy unfold across the table.
The Net Ninja Journey: A Tournament to Remember
Last year marked a memorable milestone in my Table Tennis journey. Along with my teammates, I formed a team called “Net Ninja.”
What began as friendly practice sessions soon turned into a serious competitive spirit, and before we knew it, we were participating in a tournament.
Match after match, our confidence grew. The coordination, encouragement, and shared determination pushed us forward—and yes, we made it all the way to the final.
Though we narrowly lost that final match, the experience itself was a victory. The lessons, the camaraderie, and the adrenaline of competition reminded me that age is no barrier to ambition or enthusiasm.
Losing the final didn’t dampen my spirit. Instead, it strengthened my resolve and deepened my love for the game.
Fitness with Wisdom, Not Pressure
Like many, I’ve made fitness resolutions in the past—some kept, some quietly forgotten. This time, however, the approach is different.
Fitness is no longer about chasing numbers on a scale or building muscles like a youngster. It’s about consistency, awareness, and enjoyment.
The gym has become my winter companion. Trainers wisely advise senior citizens to start slow, exercise on alternate days, and avoid unrealistic goals.
Thirty minutes of daily exercise, adequate rest, regular health check-ups, and a nutritious diet—these simple habits form the foundation of sustainable fitness.
Most importantly, they emphasize something invaluable: enjoy the process.
Balance Beyond the Gym
Fitness doesn’t end with sports or workouts. A balanced life includes nurturing the mind and soul as well.
For me, drawing and painting provide that peaceful escape. Creativity calms my mind, enhances focus, and adds color to life—quite literally.
My Life Mantra
“Chase your goals, but live your life.”
Fitness should complement life, not dominate it. When sports, exercise, creativity, and joy coexist, health becomes sustainable and happiness follows naturally.
As we continue our journeys in 2026, may we all find our favorite sports—not just to play or watch, but to live through.
Whether it’s a fast rally across a Table Tennis table or a quiet moment with a paintbrush, every passion adds strength to our lives.
Here’s to health, balance, and many more rallies ahead
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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So there were bagels this morning, but that’s a normal weekly occurrence, not for this meeting, and definitely not enough to make up for the inconvenience of this meeting.
Nice try, but no.
And now I’ve just bought a sandwich from a local restaurant because work did a substitution on the sandwich I selected yesterday, swapping in one I can’t eat.
Oh, they asked if it was OK. With an email last night that, if I didn’t reply to right away, would default to … the sandwich I can’t eat.
And arrived two hours after I crashed out in bed.
When is Friday again? What do I have to sit through first before Friday ends?
While getting gas this morning, (I always go to self serve), I heard one of the attendants at full serve yell to a customer, “shut it off!”, meaning the engine.
It took me immediately back to an interesting and difficult time in my life. On an extremely chilly morning much like today, (it’s -46 Celsius/-50.8 Fahreneheit right now with the wind), I was having a very bad start to the day.
It was 2013 and I had been having car troubles. I’d put a new alternator in, of course replaced the battery but it still was giving me problems to start. I’d even had a friend come and change the plug in, thinking maybe it was faulty. I was newly on my own with the kids living in an apartment. Newly separated. Trying not to lose my mind and appear in control and content, for the kids.
I went out in the morning and the car wouldn’t start. I texted a friend/coworker who had a handy husband and he came right over to boost my car. Grateful doesn’t even begin to describe how relieved and happy I was that he came right over on such a frigid morning to help me out.
He got it going and I wanted to let it run as long as possible to charge the battery but I would soon need gas. I dropped the kids at school and drove to the gas station. I just knew that if I shut it off to gas up, it was not going to start again.
So I left the car running and started pumping my gas. Surely one time of breaking this rule wouldn’t cause an explosion and destroy the place or kill someone. But nope, couldn’t get away with it.
The old lady who worked inside had been watching like a hawk. She opened the door and yelled “you need to shut your car off!”, in a not very nice tone either. I pleaded with her, told her the story about my battery being dead and getting a boost just ten minutes prior. I told her plainly if I shut it off it’s not going to start again.
What I really wanted to say to her was: Please have pity on me, I’m going through a separation, funds are tight, I have a stalker (story for another day), I’m stressed beyond belief and on the verge of bawling my eyes out, I’m trying to keep these kids happy, trying not allow this separation to affect them in the slightest (foolish I know), it’s freezing out please have pity on me!!!!
She did not care and insisted I shut the car off. So I did. I put twenty bucks in the car and climbed in to start it, fingers crossed.
It did not start. I don’t know how I didn’t cry to be honest. I texted my friend/coworker and she sent her husband once again to save me and boost my car at the gas station. He arrive within minutes but as he put the hood up, the old hawk inside yelled that he couldn’t boost it right at the pump, again, fire hazard, and so he and I had to push the car about ten feet away from the pumps.
He got it going again in seconds and I think I was only about ten minutes late for work. I left the car running right til lunchtime as I was not taking any chances.
I always brag about being an independent woman but there were times when I was completely on my own that the stress of having no one, was amplified. I guess I survived.
That evening I dropped off a mickey of whiskey for my friend/coworker’s husband, to show my appreciation.
No I did not take these whilst driving!Okay, maybe I did
Out earlier than yesterday, but not that dark when we started.
So I loaded up for bear.
I’m not sure I have enough peanuts…
But no crows. Except high above.
Stupid tree, confusing my auto focus!
Andanother stupid tree messing up my auto focus!
Two did come down, eventually, near the end, but only down to the tree tops.
So I photographed other things.
Many of which were out of focus because I’m shooting with one hand and holding Doggo’s leash with the other.
I could do this without Doggo, but then I’m the weird old man with a camera walking around by himself.
I don’t want to be that guy.
This way, I’m the weird old man with a camera walking his dog.
Here are the ones with OK focus.
Ah! A dark hole for me to crawl into!
Followed, of course, by my morning coffee ritual. Which I had time to properly enjoy today.
Go on. Try and poop in it!
I crashed out about 7:30 last night, which probably explains getting out earlier and having just enough time to write this before leaving for work.
The next two days will be particularly intensive work days (all-day meetings plus a work dinner) where I’m expected to be paying rapt attention the whole time, including during the provided lunches.
Work-provided lunches are a bane of civilization. Because they provided it, you’re expected to work while eating it.
All while dealing with the current ongoing messes of my normal (‘mournful’, autocorrect? Oh, you are wiser beyond your years) day-to-day.
Life is full of surprises, challenges, and moments that take us out of our comfort zone.
This poem celebrates the spirit of adventure that exists not just in distant journeys, but in every choice we make, every fear we face, and every moment we embrace. Here’s a little reminder to live boldly and joyfully:
The Adventure of Life
The Adventure of Life— as we step into the unknown, where fear meets courage, and curiosity sparks the soul.
Life is not a waiting room— it’s the thrill of every sunrise, the rhythm of every heartbeat, the joy found in every stumble.
Seek wonder in small moments, wait for light in every dark, laugh freely in the rain, and learn from every fall.
Adventure is only part of life— find joy even in strife, pursue the dreams you chase, and carry courage in your heart.
So greet the day with open arms, step forward with a fearless spirit, see wonder in ordinary skies, and seek meaning in every smile.
My plan this morning was to walk amongst the crows, take my pictures, and have my coffee ritual.
To get out of the house and to work on time, the writing of this post was going to wait for lunchtime, where I’d go through my images and come up with a thoughtful take on the morning.
Work had other ideas, so I’m just now getting to this.
About twenty crows on our walk. I recorded audio again, and I hope it came out, but I haven’t even reviewed yesterday’s recording yet to confirm the settings are good.
Did get a bit of a swarm going.
I also took pictures of flowers, or what remained of them.
Plus a thieving bastard or two.
The morning coffee ritual was also disrupted. Instead of sitting quietly to do it, I had to drink most of it in the car on the way to work.
Not nearly as relaxing.
My mornings do not look like they’ll be slowing down any time soon.
I hope this blog finds you smiling, hopeful, and wrapped in good energy.
Today’s Bloganuary prompt invited me to reflect on something deeply personal—my name.
At first glance, a name may seem like just a word, a convenient label. But when you pause and truly reflect, you realize that a name carries history, emotion, intention, and often, destiny.
Today, I want to share the story behind my name, Vijay.
More Than a Name
In the intricate tapestry of our lives, names are the threads that quietly shape our identity. They carry echoes of our heritage, our family’s dreams, and sometimes even unspoken prayers.
Vijay is not just a combination of letters for me; it is a reminder of strength, resilience, and hope.
The name Vijayoriginates from Sanskrit and means “victory” or “conqueror.”
From the moment I understood its meaning, it felt like more than an identity—it felt like a responsibility.
A gentle push to never give up, even when the odds seem stacked against me.
A Mother’s Belief in Victory
Every name has an origin story, and mine begins with my mother. She is a woman who faced life’s challenges with quiet courage and unwavering faith.
Life tested her in many ways, but she always believed in one thing: no matter how dark the moment, victory is possible.
She admired people who stood tall after falling, who kept moving despite hardships. Inspired by this belief,
she chose the name Vijay for me—not just as a name, but as a blessing. Through it, she passed on her hope that I would grow up believing in perseverance, resilience, and the power to overcome.
In many ways, my name is her voice, reminding me: You are stronger than your struggles.
The Symbolism of Vijay
In uncertain times, my name feels like an anchor. It grounds me and reminds me to stay positive when life feels overwhelming.
Vijay symbolizes optimism—not the kind that ignores reality, but the kind that faces challenges head-on and still chooses hope.
It teaches me that setbacks are not failures, but lessons in disguise. That every obstacle is an invitation to grow stronger. This mindset has shaped how I approach life—not with fear, but with quiet confidence.
Everyday Victories Matter
When we hear the word “victory,” we often imagine grand achievements—medals, awards, applause. But life has taught me something different.
True victory lies in the small moments: choosing patience over frustration, courage over fear, and persistence over doubt.
From academic milestones to personal growth, from learning to accept failure to celebrating progress, the spirit of Vijay has walked beside me.
These everyday wins may not make headlines, but they build character—and that is the most meaningful triumph of all.
Can a Name Shape Destiny?
I truly believe it can. A name influences how we see ourselves and how we respond to the world.
Vijay has shaped my mindset, encouraging me to approach challenges with determination rather than hesitation.
Whenever self-doubt creeps in, my name reminds me that victory is not about never falling—it’s about always rising. It whispers that strength already exists within me, waiting to be activated.
Living the Legacy
As I reflect on the meaning and journey of my name, I feel immense gratitude. Vijay is not just something I answer to—it is something I strive to live by.
It is a philosophy, a mindset, and a quiet promise to myself to keep moving forward.
The journey toward victory is rarely easy, but it is always transformative. And perhaps that is the greatest lesson my name has taught me: the path matters just as much as the destination.
In embracing the legacy of Vijay, I remind myself every day to rise, to persevere, and to believe.
Because life may challenge us—but victory, in one form or another, is always within reach.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I’ve hurriedly sat down to write this as I have a bday supper to make for my third born Cordelia Mary. Tomorrow she turns nineteen but since she’s leaving to go to Winnipeg for the weekend, our only chance to celebrate her is tonight.
And that’s in between my class from 6-7 (every time I say that Sid goes six sevvvven) and then around 8-8:30 I have to run up to the hospital and personal care home to check on students.
When I was 22 and told my parents about the boyfriend I had just met one month into college who had two kids by two different women, they laughed and said “you’ve been exciting right from the start”. Well Cordelia is MY exciting right from the start child.
Keeps me on my toes is an understatement.
Love her to pieces is an understatement.
So grateful for her.
Happy Birthday Cordelia, or as Sid calls her, Doh!
Between the Lines is a heartfelt reflection on life’s journey, embracing the beauty, pain, and lessons that shape us.
It celebrates living authentically, savoring every experience, and painting our own story with courage and passion—between the moments we are born and the quiet of the end.
# Between the Lines #
Between the lines, I spill my soul, Words like whispers, making me whole. I write my thoughts where no one can see, A secret dialogue between God and me.
I live my passion, fierce and free, A flame that dances, wild as the sea. I taste the moments, bitter and sweet, Every heartbeat a drum, every step a beat.
I eat my experience, savor each bite, Learning from shadows, basking in light. I cherish the gifts, the trials, the grace, Every wrinkle, every scar upon my face.
Between the born and the silent end, I choose to live fully, never pretend. Yes, life is a canvas, raw and divine, And there, I paint my story, line by line.
New Daily Prompt: Would you be able to survive the sudden cessation of the newdailyprompt? If so, to what extremes would you go to survive? Which of your neighbors would you eat … first?
I’ve said more than once (here and to myself) that I need to dial back some of the stuff I’m doing on WordPress.
And promptly started adding more.
But I’ve come to the conclusion that, at least for now, I really need to dial back some of the stuff I’m doing here.
The newdailyprompts have been a fun experiment, but while I’ve enjoyed the reactions (and modest boost in traffic), it’s become more chore than fun.
And real life has made finding time for non-work chores extremely difficult.
So I’m dialing it back.
You laughing WordPress dailyprompt employees can shut the eff up. At least you were getting paid to generate your prompts!
I’ll still be here, probably still posting daily, but it needs to feel obligation-free. Plus, absence makes the heart grow fonder, so some time away from this particular trope should allow me to recharge and come up with more ideas later.
I mean, I could repost old ones (God knows there are enough), but you all know how I feel about repeat daily prompts…
Hello dear friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood, too.
When I came across today’s writing prompt — “List five things you do for fun” — I smiled.
At first glance, it seems simple, almost playful. But the more I reflected on it, the more I realized how revealing that question truly is.
Fun is not merely about passing time; it is about how we stay emotionally alive, how we rediscover ourselves, and how our true nature quietly surfaces through the things that bring us joy.
For many of us, Retirement can be a challenging phase. It often brings an unexpected sense of loss — of routine, identity, companionship, and direction.
After more than 30 years in the banking profession, I felt this deeply. My job had been a major part of who I was.
I enjoyed the responsibility, the respect, the friendships, and the structure it provided. When that chapter ended, the abundance of free time felt overwhelming.
Yet, life has a way of gently teaching us new lessons. Somewhere along the journey, I learned that fun is not a luxury — it is a necessity.
It keeps us youthful at heart, emotionally balanced, and mentally engaged.
A Recent Reminder of Joy
Just last week, I experienced a beautiful reminder of this truth. My granddaughter, brimming with energy, challenged me to a water balloon fight.
The weather was warm, the garden inviting, and the laughter unstoppable. Armed with balloons and playful mischief, we turned an ordinary afternoon into a festival of joy.
Her laughter lingered long after the game ended. That simple moment reaffirmed something important: sometimes, the purest happiness comes from embracing play without reason or reservation.
So instead of simply listing five things I do for fun, I want to explore them — because each one reflects how I choose to live.
1. Getting Lost in Words (Reading & Writing)
Words have always been my sanctuary. Reading allows me to travel across worlds, cultures, and emotions without leaving my chair.
Some days, fiction sweeps me into imagination; other days, essays and poetry offer quiet reflection.
Writing — especially blogging — is where I process life. It aligns perfectly with my personal mantra: be happy, be healthy, be alive, and be focused.
Blogging allows me to share my thoughts, experiences, art, and everyday reflections, creating meaningful connections with readers. It keeps my mind active and my spirit expressive.
2. Long Walks, Yoga, and Quiet Observation
One of my simplest pleasures is walking — slowly and intentionally. I notice sunlight filtering through trees, the rhythm of footsteps, and the beauty hidden in ordinary moments.
Complementing this are yoga, stretching, swimming, and meditation. These practices help release physical tension and calm mental chatter.
They remind me that fun doesn’t always have to be loud or thrilling. Sometimes, it’s about stillness, balance, and being present in the moment.
3. Music as a Mood Companion
Music is not background noise in my life — it is a companion. It meets me where I am emotionally, whether I feel joyful, nostalgic, or overwhelmed.
The therapeutic power of music has been recognized since ancient times, and I experience it personally.
Certain melodies soothe my mind; others energize my soul. Music gives my emotions space to exist, helping me move through them gently and naturally.
4. Meaningful Conversations
One of the most underrated forms of fun is a meaningful conversation. Not just small talk, but exchanges where ideas flow, stories are shared, and time seems to disappear.
I enjoy listening as much as speaking. These conversations nourish my curiosity and empathy, reminding me that real power lies not in titles or status, but in humility, honesty, and understanding.
Laughter often emerges unexpectedly — and that makes the connection even richer.
5. Creating Little Moments of Joy
Fun also lives in the everyday: a well-brewed cup of tea, journaling, learning something new, or experimenting with art.
Drawing, painting, storytelling, swimming, and playing Table Tennis keep my creativity alive and my mind sharp.
Art, in particular, is more than a hobby — it is a way of seeing the world. Through it, I express emotions, share stories, and connect with others beyond words.
Closing Thoughts
So, when asked to list five things I do for fun, I’m really sharing how I move through life. My idea of fun is thoughtful, creative, grounded, and deeply human.
It reflects a life that values meaning over noise, connection over chaos, and joy in both grand adventures and quiet moments.
Perhaps that is the beauty of this prompt — it reminds us that fun is personal. It tells the story of who we are when we allow ourselves the freedom to simply be.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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There’s an adorable little cartoon show that Sid watches about a little girl who, once she leaves her home and her two dads in the morning, she crosses through this little magical bush and enters a world where she’s a veterinarian.
Part of the lyrics during the show are “everyone’s welcome for check-ups and hugs, the vet is in!”
Every time I hear that I think, wow, imagine if us as humans could go to the doctor or nurse practitioner, or any care provider, and not just be seen for what ales us, but also get a hug! I am not even an innate hugger but I feel the world needs more hugs.
I’d be all for it.
Or even just a booth in a mall where you could go to get a warm safe hug, no questions asked, no judgments made.
Hmmm…new business idea perhaps?!
Bitterly cold winter morning once again This happened the other day, I was ecstatic, not gonna lie
If I want to get to work on time, we need to take our walk earlier.
If we take our walk earlier, it’s dark and far less likely crows will show up.
That’s what happened this morning. Got my recorder ready, having made a volume adjustment after listening to yesterday’s attempt, hoped for 30+ crows again, and headed out.
Early.
And dark.
Three crows near the end, but two scared off the third.
None came down from the trees for peanuts.
Then, a bit later, four who followed me home but didn’t come down to the ground until I went into the house.
So mostly I photographed other things.
The sky is beautiful as the sun comes up.
The sky with a crow even more beautiful.
A shadow across my day…
And a free shopping cart to carry my burdens in…
Flowers are always nice.
Except when they’re dead. This was a yellow rose.
Hasn’t quite given up the ghost … yet.
The year-round dandelion.
One house I regularly pass has a row of rose bushes along the front yard.
Had.
Discovered this morning, they had pruned them all down to stumps.
I hope that’s what you’re supposed to do during winter…
Nice try, thieving bastards. But no crows, no peanuts!
Taunting me…
And as always, I end with my morning coffee ritual.
Blogging is often measured by numbers, but this journey was measured in growth. Over a year of showing up, writing, and waiting, I learned that effort shapes more than outcomes—it shapes the person behind the words. This poem reflects that quiet transformation.
# My Journey of Blogging #
I planted effort, shared my thoughts, watered my patience, and waited a year.
The journey did not grow money— it grew me courage, and the faith to begin again.
It taught me this: nothing blooms without belief.
These words carry emotion— they stay with struggle, are stained with hope, and signed by time itself.
Effort does not reward wishing. it answers those who show up.
Each blog is my thoughts evolved. Each note, a season survived. Each sentence, a step forward on a path only I walk.
And as midnight arrives, time does not bend— but I define my path, and I walk again, and again.
Last night, my little girl said her greatest fear is a job application. When asked why, her reasoning was simple: jobs are boring. Well… she’s not wrong. And she’s nine .
To be a little cynical, aren’t dream and job contradictory here? Except for a fortunate few who are actually living their dream jobs, most of us can’t really say that. We slog and slave because love and fresh air – if the air is still fresh – are not exactly practical to live by.
When people change jobs, it’s usually for many reasons: money, timing, circumstances, survival. I’m fairly sure dream doesn’t make the list very often.
This morning, I also saw a headline saying IT companies have reduced hiring since AI . Seems these days one has to dream of securing a job first.
As for me – depending on perspective – I’m either living my dream job or not.
I don’t have to step out. No travelling. No crowds. No traffic. I can be as flexible as I want – finish a task or push it onto the procrastinate shelf. I am my own boss (the thrill of not answering to anyone – or having anyone breathing down your neck ).
I take breaks whenever I want, for however long I want. I multitask – or abandon tasks halfway and jump to the next one. I make my own schedule, take leaves for the flimsiest reasons, and… I even get to nap .
In between, I can write or watch senseless videos. The tasks, like any other job, can be repetitive and limiting – but you never quite know what the day will bring.
The only setback, really, is the lack of compensation. Otherwise, the pros aren’t too bad… are they?
No job applications involved (maybe during the courtship phase ) – so maybe my little girl is onto something.
New Daily Prompt: What’s your favorite justification for wasting spending time here on WordPress? Does your spouse/significant other accept it?
“It’s the only thing that keeps me from killing you” didn’t go over that well with the Missus, but she’s too afraid (and smart) to openly argue with me about it.
Morning fog
After cooking breakfast, I took a short moment to walk in the neighborhood yesterday, since the scenery offers a little something extraordinary. My neighbor said, “The heaven (she means the clouds) feels like it’s going down.” I said, “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”
When I went home, my third eldest sister was having her breakfast, and my niece was combing her hair fresh from a bath. I told her how nice it was to see she’s getting responsible now, and she smiled and hugged me. I said, It feels like we can breathe a little bit in the morning now. That’s because of a few little changes. Mama is now more relaxed during the morning. And looking at the food on the table, I feel grateful.
Around sunset, I went to the river, pastured our goats, and brought them home. Watching the video this morning, Janwa was jumping, and it brought a smile.
The calm feeling shifted into a little heart’s bleeding after some health news, but it’s life. I sent them a little help. Life is a mixture of emotions, and we’re here to face it. Each moment is different.
Have a beautiful Tuesday, my amazing readers. Thank you so much for your genuine connection. Stay healthy and safe. Hugs and blessings!
Hello, dear friends, I hope this blog finds you smiling, curious, and maybe holding a cup of something warm.
Today’s writing prompt stopped me in my tracks with its simple yet powerful question: “Which books do you want to read?” At first glance, it feels like an invitation to list novels, memoirs, or timeless classics waiting patiently on a bedside table.
But as I sat with it longer, the question softened and deepened, unfolding into something far more personal.
That is when I realized the book I most long to read is not found in a library or bookstore. It is a living, breathing narrative I return to again and again—A Journey Within.
In a world that moves at a relentless pace, where screens glow brighter than sunsets and external noise competes endlessly for our attention, books remain a sacred refuge.
They allow us to pause, to listen, to wander. Yet there comes a moment when even the most beautifully written stories point us back to ourselves.
A Journey Within is that book for me—a quiet invitation to turn inward and explore the landscapes of my own heart and mind.
Unveiling the Cover
When I imagine opening A Journey Within, I picture a cover rich with texture and meaning. It is layered, imperfect, and deeply personal—much like life itself.
Every mark represents an experience, every shade a season of becoming. There is anticipation in opening this book, because unlike other stories, this one does not promise comfort on every page.
It promises truth. And truth, I have learned, is the most transformative reading of all.
Chapter One: The Prelude of Self-Awareness
The first chapter gently draws me into self-awareness. Its pages echo with memories—laughter shared freely, tears shed quietly, moments of courage, and moments of doubt.
This chapter does not rush; it invites reflection. Reading it means honoring where I have been without clinging to it.
It teaches me that self-awareness is not about judging the past but understanding it. Every experience, whether joyful or painful, has shaped the person I am becoming.
There is vulnerability here, but also strength. In acknowledging my story honestly, I make room for compassion—for myself and for others.
This chapter reminds me that growth begins not with answers, but with awareness.
Chapter Two: The Poetry of Passion
As I turn the page, the tone shifts. This chapter feels alive.
The Poetry of Passion celebrates the things that ignite my spirit—art, creativity, nature, meaningful conversations, and moments of wonder that arrive unexpectedly. These are the lines that make life sing.
A Journey Within gently reminds me that passion is not a luxury; it is essential. To know what makes my heart race is to understand what gives my life direction.
This chapter encourages me not just to admire my passions from afar, but to integrate them into daily living—allowing joy and curiosity to guide my choices.
Chapter Three: The Shadows of Insecurity
No inner journey is complete without confronting the shadows. This chapter is written in softer, shakier ink.
Here live fears, doubts, and insecurities that whisper when the world grows quiet. It is not an easy chapter to read, but it may be the most important.
By facing these insecurities, I reclaim my power. A Journey Within teaches me that shadows are not enemies; they are teachers.
Within them lie resilience, humility, and the opportunity to rewrite old narratives. When I acknowledge my vulnerabilities, I no longer hide from them—and in that honesty, I grow stronger.
Chapter Four: The Quest for Growth
This chapter looks forward. It is filled with dreams, intentions, and unanswered questions.
Growth, I learn, is not a destination marked by certainty, but a continuous unfolding. A Journey Within becomes a map—not one with fixed routes, but one that adapts as I do.
Here, I am reminded that learning never ends. Each experience adds a new paragraph, each challenge a new insight.
Growth is not about becoming someone else; it is about becoming more fully myself.
Chapter Five: Living in the Wonder of Art
This chapter is a celebration of beauty and imagination. Art, in all its forms, teaches me how to see—to notice color, emotion, and meaning in unexpected places.
To live in wonder is to remain open to awe, even in ordinary moments. This chapter invites creativity not as perfection, but as expression.
Epilogue: A Symphony of Self-Love
As I reach the final pages of A Journey Within, gratitude settles in quietly. Self-love emerges not as a grand declaration, but as a steady practice—acceptance, patience, and kindness toward myself.
Closing the book, I understand something deeply comforting: this story is never finished.
So when asked, “Which books do you want to read?” my answer is simple and profound. I want to keep reading A Journey Within.
Because the most exciting, meaningful book I will ever read is the one I am still writing—day by day, page by page, from the inside out.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Is it a salty Monday? Or is it just me starting the week with some salt and spice instead of sweet .
As the day went on, I thought – maybe I should pause from thinking – my thoughts tend to wander into strange places. Anyways, I thought, sometimes we should let hard days be hard. Why must we rush to be hopeful, to believe everything will be okay? Everything will not be okay – and learning to accept that matters too.
At least with ourselves, we should be able to say: this is hard, a mess is a mess. No whitewashing, no forced optimism, no hunting for rainbows we don’t see. When things change or get better, they will. Until then, we can be realistic and call a spade a spade.
Times are strange. People suck and we disappoint. They come and go. We lose some. Life hurts. It’s unstable. The list goes on. Often, it feels like we’re walking on a precipice – and that’s okay to acknowledge and live with.
Why rush to cloud our thoughts with positivity we don’t feel or believe in, at least not in that moment?
Why hurry to find our footing when we haven’t fully walked through the imbalance?
This isn’t about plunging into darkness. It’s about treading the grey areas – feeling their weight honestly – before stepping back into the light.
I mention that I forgot because it impacted the artistic experiment I undertook with this film.
And that artistic experiment?
For every shot I take, turn around and take another shot in the opposite direction. With the ultimate goal being to display them side-by-side, which is also known as a diptych.
An artist I follow here makes great use of diptyches, and so I thought I’d try my hand at it.
(Please don’t let my efforts on this front detract from others’ use of the art form.)
The other nice thing about this experiment is that the Pen EE-3 is fully automatic and fixed focus, so I don’t have to go to all the trouble of recording my exposure settings for each shot, and if the exposure is terrible, well, it’s not my fault, it’s the camera’s!
And not to knock the artistic merit of the diptych, but I’m hoping the format (two pictures) and constraint (180 degrees apart) will make the viewer more forgiving of my compositional skills.
Plus, after having experimented with a number of different film emulsions, I’ve decided I’m not a huge fan of Delta 400. So to get myself to shot this roll with any kind of enthusiasm, I had to do something different from my usual approach.
Shake things up a bit
I guess we’ll see if it worked.
In the end, it turns out it the whole opposite, 180 degree thing didn’t always work. So in some of these images, I took some artistic license (less than 180 degrees, or, if even that didn’t make sense, two pictures with the same theme / object).
Basically, I started out with rules and then broke them as I saw fit.
So in this series, I will share the ones that turned out, well, not embarrassingly awful.
Freeway Noise Over a Muddy Path in a Litter-strewn Field Next to my Hotel
Accidentally (?) Off-roading by the Freeway
Good Year? No, the Worst.
And for those of you who earn their living in the diptych market, you can relax. I’m clearly not serious competition.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and positive mood.
Six years ago, I began this blogging journey with nothing more than a simple idea and a blank screen. There was no grand strategy, no long-term roadmap — just curiosity, passion, and a genuine desire to share my thoughts with the world.
Today, WordPress reminds me of that very first step with a 6-Year Anniversary Achievement badge, and it feels like the perfect moment to pause, reflect, and celebrate how far this journey has come.
That blue “W” encircled by laurel leaves is far more than just an image. It stands as a symbol of persistence, growth, learning, and countless hours spent transforming ideas into words — one post at a time.
From a Single Post to a Growing Archive
Over the last six years, this blog has grown into a substantial body of work with hundreds of published posts.
Each post represents a moment in time — lessons learned, ideas explored, challenges faced, and insights shared.
Some posts were carefully planned, others written spontaneously. Some were deeply personal, others purely informative.
But together, they form a living archive of progress. Writing consistently over the years wasn’t always easy, but it became a discipline — one that shaped both my voice and my confidence.
Reaching Readers Across the Globe
What truly amazes me is how far these words have traveled. From humble beginnings, this blog has now crossed hundreds of thousands of views, reaching readers from different countries, cultures, and time zones.
Each view tells a story — someone discovered a post, found value in it, and chose to spend their time here. In a fast-moving digital world, that choice means everything.
What started as a personal platform slowly evolved into a global space for ideas, learning, and reflection.
A Blog That Sparked Conversations
A blog becomes meaningful when readers engage, and this journey has been enriched by thousands of comments over the years.
From thoughtful feedback and encouragement to constructive debates and shared experiences, these interactions transformed static posts into dynamic conversations.
Every comment reminded me that blogging isn’t about broadcasting — it’s about connecting.
Those connections brought depth, accountability, and motivation to keep showing up and writing better.
A Community of Subscribers
Perhaps the most rewarding achievement of all is the steadily growing subscriber base, now numbering in the thousands.
Subscribers are the heart of this journey — readers who chose to stay, return, and grow alongside this blog.
Their continued support turned writing into a responsibility and this platform into a commitment.
Knowing that people look forward to new posts is a powerful motivator and a privilege I don’t take lightly.
Growth Beyond Numbers
While the statistics tell an impressive story, the real achievements go deeper than posts, views, or subscribers.
Blogging over six years has taught me patience, consistency, and resilience. It sharpened my thinking, strengthened my communication skills, and encouraged lifelong learning.
Most importantly, it showed me that small, consistent efforts compound over time. One post led to another. One reader led to a community. One year quietly turned into six.
Looking Ahead
This anniversary isn’t an ending — it’s a milestone. There are more ideas to explore, more stories to tell, and more value to share. The journey continues with renewed energy, clearer purpose, and deeper gratitude.
To every reader who clicked a post, left a comment, subscribed, or silently supported this blog — thank you. This achievement belongs to all of us.
As WordPress says: “Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging.” And that’s exactly what I intend to do.
Here’s to the next chapter — written with purpose, passion, and perseverance.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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We stepped out earlier, just to stretch the Christmas spirit a little longer. After all, there’s only so many videos one can scroll through, wishing the city were as lit up and decorated as the ones on our screens .
Somewhere between the twinkling lights and lingering cheer, I found myself thinking about Santa – his gift bag and those promised wishes. If he’s serious about granting them, he really needs to step up. No more boxes under Christmas trees or flimsy surprises. I wish Santa would handle the cleaning and washing up after all the feasting. Imagine preparing and indulging as much as we want, and the dishes magically doing themselves. While he’s at it, we could do without worrying about waistlines too – calories that politely disappear. No sugar issues either, thank you very much .
Oh, and one of the most important wishes – bring us the winning lottery ticket. And if we could take it easy with the exercising. It’s not for everyone you know.
And could Santa also reorganise our lives a bit?
Maybe he could bring better bosses – ones who understand that productivity isn’t measured by exhaustion. Work-life balance that actually exists, not the kind that only looks impressive on policy documents. Salaries that don’t just look good on paper, but survive inflation and taxes without causing mild panic.
And while we’re at it, kinder tax systems would be nice. Ones that don’t make you question all your life choices while filing returns. Asking for too much? They are wishes, after all.
If Santa truly cares about our happiness, then wishes shouldn’t be unwishable, right?
Anyway, indulgence has happened, and now I really have to think about trimming my waistline, without stressing my toe. It’s taking its own sweet time to heal, and my unnecessary(?) walking certainly isn’t helping. Still, here’s hoping the new year brings an abundance of health and healing, not just personally, but for the world as well.
Writing prompt-less makes me feel so exposed. Like one of those bad dreams where you’ve gone off to work and forgot to put pants on, only to realize when you arrive and notice people pointing and laughing.
I’m feeling relief that the big day is behind me. The gifts, the cooking and the baking are a lot of pressure but now that balloon’s been popped and I am relaxing. Deflating, but in a good way. A back to normal way.
It’s Boxing Day today and so that means big, big sales on stuff. I’m trying to be mindful to not get too caught up in consumerism, I really don’t need more stuff. But. That but. The deals are amazing.
There’s only one thing I have my eye on and it’s frivolous and ridiculous. A five foot tall white resin nutcracker. I collect nutcrackers and really adore them. Each year around the holidays I add at least one to my collection. This year I’ve already bought two.
So I should just ignore the fact that the five foot tall one is forty to fifty percent off, right? But what a good sale!!
It takes a lot of willpower to be good.
The photos are from the last day we went fishing in the boat, September 30. I haven’t been ice fishing yet this winter but Clint has several times. I’m too wimpy to go out ice fishing in -25 Celsius weather, no thanks.
This poem is about a creativity that doesn’t seek applause. It is born from silence, shaped by pain, and carried forward by truth. It speaks for those who feel deeply, break quietly, and rebuild themselves through words.
Yes, I write— not what looks beautiful, but what survived.
My creativity doesn’t bloom under claps or lights. It wakes up in silence, where no one is watching.
When words choke in my throat, paper breathes for me. And the pen— slowly unloads what I’ve been carrying.
I’ve learned how to smile while breaking, and how to gather myself piece by piece.
My silence isn’t empty. It holds memories, broken trust, and dreams that refuse to die.
They say I feel too much. Yes. Because feeling is how I stay real. And only truth comes from there.
When the world calls me weak, my creativity whispers— “I’m tired, not finished.”
I didn’t let pain rot inside me. I turned it into words, so maybe someone else could stand taller.
My pen never judges me. My tears are safe there.
I’m not perfect. But I’m honest. And my greatest creation— is who I’m becoming.
Yes, I write because silence breaks me. And writing teaches me how to rise again.
It was a peaceful time yesterday in the house, celebrating Christmas, until my sister-in-law called us after they arrived from the beach. There were leftovers, and my brothers-in-law were enjoying drinks and karaoke. After they had sung enough, my sisters substituted. It was a joy watching my family having fun and happy.
However, in the middle of the celebration, my nephew expressed in our family group chat that he wants to stop chemotherapy, go home, and do herbal treatment. I said, “It’s risky, but we sisters have different opinions.” Today, they will talk to their doctor, and we might hear an update later.
The holiday continues nevertheless, and Ago, the male goat, turns out to be the viand today. Since my eldest sister went to town, I became the caretaker of the goats again, sending them to the pastureland this morning. Excuse me for my vulgar word. I’m a bad girl sometimes, too. I thought the video wasn’t working, but what I said was recorded.
Enjoy the Christmas season, my amazing readers. Thank you so much for your continuous engagement. I’ll be back reading and commenting more on your blogs soon. Stay awesome!
I hope this blog finds you smiling, maybe sipping a cup of coffee or wrapped in a cozy blanket.
Today, I want to talk about a question that really made me stop and think: “What relationships have a positive impact on you?” It’s deceptively simple, but when you start to unpack it, it’s a game-changer.
The people we surround ourselves with don’t just fill our time—they shape our moods, our choices, and even the person we become.
Let’s start with family.
For many of us, they’re our first touchpoint with love, care, and, sometimes, chaos. But when family relationships are healthy, they act as an emotional anchor.
Imagine a sibling cheering you on as you take a leap of faith, or a parent who listens without judgment when life throws a curveball.
That support builds confidence and reminds us we’re not alone. And yes, not every family dynamic is perfect—but the relationships that make us feel safe, valued, and loved leave a lasting imprint.
Then there are friendships—
the people we choose to keep close. There’s something magical about a friend who just gets you, who laughs at your quirks, and calls you out when you need it.
Friends can push us out of comfort zones, inspire us, and sometimes even save us from ourselves.
Think about the last time a friend’s encouragement made a huge difference—maybe you pursued a dream you were scared of, or simply felt less alone on a rough day. That’s the quiet power of friendship.
Romantic relationships, too, can profoundly impact us
When they’re healthy. They teach empathy, patience, and vulnerability. A partner who respects your individuality, celebrates your wins, and supports you through setbacks can transform life’s ups and downs into shared victories.
And honestly, the beauty of a strong relationship is that it grows both people —not by changing them, but by encouraging the best version of who they already are.
Communities can play a vital role
It doesn’t stop there. Mentors, colleagues, neighbors, even online communities can lift us up in ways we don’t always notice.
A mentor’s advice can save years of struggle. A supportive colleague can make the daily grind feel meaningful.
A community that welcomes you can provide belonging when the world feels overwhelming. Every positive connection, big or small, contributes to our emotional and personal growth.
But here’s the thing: Positive relationships aren’t passive. They take attention, care, and sometimes tough love.
Listening, expressing gratitude, and being present are simple ways to strengthen connections.
Equally important is recognizing when a relationship drains you and having the courage to step back.
Life is too short to invest in negativity. Surround yourself with those who celebrate your successes, challenge you to grow, and stand by you when things get messy.
Reflecting on this question—“What relationships positively impact you?”—is more than a moment of nostalgia.
It’s a blueprint for a happier, healthier life.
Positive relationships give us courage, perspective, and joy. They remind us who we are at our core and inspire us to become better.
They transform ordinary days into memorable ones and hard times into moments of shared resilience.
So, take a moment today. Think about the people who make your world brighter—the ones who lift you up, make you laugh, and challenge you to grow.
Send them a message, share a laugh, or just hold them in your thoughts. Celebrate the relationships that matter.
Because at the end of the day, life isn’t about the things we accumulate—it’s about the people who make us feel alive, understood, and connected. And those are the relationships that truly shape us.
BE HAPPY….BE ACTIVE….BE FOCUSED….BE ALIVE…
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Sharing a few quotes by C.S.Lewis as we celebrate Christmas….
Among the oxen (like an ox I’m slow) I see a glory in the stable grow Which, with the ox’s dullness might at lengthlGive me an ox’s strength Source: “Poems” (1964)
Among the asses (stubborn I as they) I see my Savior where I looked for hay; So may my beast like folly learn at least The patience of a beast Source: “Poems” (1964)
Among the sheep (I like a sheep have strayed) I watch the manger where my Lord is laid; Oh that my baa-ing nature would win thence Some woolly innocence! Source: “Poems” (1964)
So Death lay in arrest. But at Bethlehem the bless’d / Nothing greater could be heard / Than sighing wind in the thorn, the cry of One new-born.” *(From the poem *The Nativity)
This poem reflects the quiet struggle of a serious person who still carries a playful, childlike heart. It celebrates laughter not as a response to perfect humor, but as an act of kindness, empathy, and connection. Laughing becomes a way to support others, soften life’s heaviness, and share warmth—even when the joke isn’t funny.
Laugh Anyway
I am a serious kind of soul, Quiet face, controlled and whole. But in my heart, both day and night, A child whispers, “Laugh a bit.”
Laugh not because the joke is smart, Laugh because it came from heart. Laugh when words don’t land just right, Laugh to keep the mood still light.
Laugh to show you care and see, Laugh to offer company. Laugh when effort’s brave and true, Laugh because it’s kind to do.
Laughing softens heavy days, Chases small storms far away. It says, “I’m here, I understand.” A gentle smile, an outstretched hand.
So show your teeth, let worries slide, Laugh with them, stand side by side.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood, too.
Today’s prompt asks a deceptively simple question: Do you play in your daily life? What says “playtime” to you?
At first glance, it might sound like something reserved for children, weekends, or vacations. But the more I sit with it, the more I realize that play is not a break from life—it is a vital way of being alive.
Do We Really Play Anymore?
As adults, many of us quietly retire the word play from our vocabulary. We replace it with productivity, efficiency, and responsibility.
Life becomes a checklist, and joy is often postponed until everything else is done.
Play slowly turns into something we used to do—something that belonged to recess bells, board games on rainy afternoons, or carefree laughter untouched by deadlines.
Somewhere along the way, play begins to feel unearned, even irresponsible, as though joy must be justified by hard work.
Yet, when we look closely, play never truly disappears. It simply changes its costume.
Play shows up when we hum while cooking, rearrange a room just to see how it feels, or lose track of time while sketching, gardening, gaming, dancing, or experimenting with a new recipe.
These moments may seem small, but they carry a quiet magic—the kind that restores rather than distracts.
For me, playtime arrives in simple, joyful ways. I enjoy playing table tennis, doing art and painting, and my most favorite activity of all is dancing—especially in this golden phase of my life. (Ha ha ha!)
In those moments, time seems to soften, worries fade, and my spirit feels wonderfully light.
Play also appears in inside jokes, wordplay, curiosity-driven conversations, and the sheer delight of learning something with no practical goal attached. These are not wasted moments; they are life-giving ones.
The real tragedy is not that we stop playing—it’s that we stop recognizing play when it quietly enters our lives.
What does “playtime” really mean?
To me, playtime is not defined by toys, age, or even leisure. Playtime is a mental and emotional state.
It’s the moment when pressure loosens its grip and curiosity takes the wheel. It’s when the outcome matters less than the experience.
Playtime says:
You are allowed to explore.
You can fail without consequences.
Joy doesn’t need justification.
Play is where imagination stretches its legs. It’s where we try things “just because,” without optimizing or monetizing the outcome.
In a world obsessed with results, play is gloriously process-oriented.
Play as a daily practice
In daily life, play can be remarkably small and still deeply meaningful. It might be choosing a colorful mug instead of the usual one. It might be taking a different route home just to see what’s there.
It could be five minutes of doodling between tasks or turning a mundane chore into a personal challenge or game.
Even conversations can be playful—asking unusual questions, telling stories with dramatic flair, or letting humor soften a serious moment.
These micro-moments of play don’t steal time from our responsibilities; they restore energy to meet them.
Psychologically, play is powerful. Research consistently shows that play reduces stress, improves creativity, and strengthens emotional resilience.
When we play, our nervous system relaxes. We become more flexible thinkers, better problem-solvers, and more empathetic humans.
In short, play makes us better at life, not worse at work.
Why we need to reclaim play
One of the quiet dangers of modern life is chronic seriousness. When every moment is optimized, scheduled, and evaluated, we risk becoming efficient but brittle.
Play is the antidote. It introduces softness, spontaneity, and surprise.
Play also reconnects us with our authentic selves. When we play, we’re not performing for approval—we’re expressing for pleasure.
That’s why play often feels deeply personal and oddly nourishing. It reminds us that our worth is not measured solely by output.
In relationships, play builds connection. Shared laughter, silliness, and creative interaction deepen bonds far more effectively than perfectly planned conversations.
Play invites vulnerability without heaviness, intimacy without pressure.
Redefining adulthood
Perhaps the most radical idea is this: play is not the opposite of adulthood; it is the secret to a sustainable one.
A playful adult is not immature—they are adaptive. They know how to bend without breaking, how to find lightness in weighty moments, and how to remain curious even when life is complicated.
When we give ourselves permission to play, we give ourselves permission to be human.
My Final Submission
So, do I play in my daily life? I try to—and when I forget, I feel the difference immediately. Life becomes flatter, heavier, and oddly smaller.
Playtime, for me, is not an escape from reality but a deeper engagement with it.
Play is where joy hides in plain sight. It’s not something we grow out of; it’s something we grow back into.
And maybe that’s the real invitation of this prompt—not just to answer the question, but to notice where play is quietly waiting for us today.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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A Joyful Celebration of Love, Giving, and TogethernessHello dear friends,
I hope this blog finds you in the happiest of spirits. Today is a truly special day—the day we joyfully celebrate Merry Christmas, a season that fills hearts with warmth, gratitude, and hope.
On this beautiful occasion, I wish you and your loved ones a Christmas filled with peace, laughter, and cherished moments.
There is something undeniably magical about Christmas. As December gently unfolds and the year draws to a close, a soft sense of happiness seems to embrace the world.
Streets glow with twinkling lights, familiar carols drift through the air, and hearts grow lighter with joy.
Christmas is far more than a date on the calendar—it is a feeling, a shared spirit of love and togetherness that connects people across continents, cultures, and beliefs.
Celebrated on December 25th in many parts of the world, Christmas has become a universal season of joy and goodwill.
From bustling cities to quiet villages, people pause from their daily routines to celebrate kindness, generosity, and hope.
At the heart of this timeless celebration stands a beloved figure who has inspired wonder for generations—Santa Claus, a symbol of selfless giving and the enduring magic of believing.
The Awaited Santa Claus: A Symbol of Generosity
Santa Claus, with his cheerful smile, red suit, flowing white beard, and sack full of gifts, is much more than a character from children’s stories.
While children eagerly await his midnight visit, adults recognize what he truly represents—the spirit of giving without expecting anything in return.
The legend of Santa Claus traces back to Saint Nicholas, a historical figure known for his extraordinary kindness and compassion.
Saint Nicholas dedicated his life to helping the poor, the sick, and the vulnerable. Over time, his story evolved into folklore, and today Santa embodies generosity, selflessness, and the joy of making others happy.
In many ways, Santa reminds us that the greatest gifts are not wrapped in paper, but offered from the heart.
Decorating Dreams: Christmas Traditions Unveiled
As Christmas approaches, homes transform into festive havens. Christmas trees are decorated with shimmering ornaments, ribbons, and glowing lights, each decoration often carrying a memory or a story.
Families gather to decorate together, sharing laughter, hot drinks, and cherished traditions passed down through generations.
The Christmas tree itself has become a powerful symbol of unity and hope. Standing tall and radiant, it represents life, resilience, and togetherness.
Meanwhile, familiar songs like “Jingle Bells” and “Silent Night” echo through homes and public spaces, weaving a soundtrack of nostalgia and joy that instantly lifts spirits.
The Joyful Exchange: Messages and Gifts
In today’s digital world, Christmas greetings travel faster than ever. Social media platforms fill with cheerful wishes, festive photos, and heartfelt messages.
Colorful cards—both digital and traditional—carry expressions of love, gratitude, and goodwill.
Gift-giving, though often associated with material items, is truly about thoughtfulness.
Whether it’s a carefully chosen present, a handwritten note, or simply time spent together, these gestures strengthen bonds and remind us that we are connected.
During Christmas, kindness transcends borders, cultures, and religions, uniting people in a shared celebration of humanity.
The Tale of Santa Claus: From Generosity to Modern-Day Magic
The story of Santa Claus has grown into a timeless tradition that continues to enchant children worldwide. Stockings are hung with care, cookies are left by the fireplace, and children drift to sleep with hopeful excitement.
The idea of Santa’s midnight journey across the world ignites imagination and keeps the magic of childhood alive.
Even for adults, this sense of wonder holds meaning. It encourages us to believe in goodness, generosity, and the possibility of joy—even in challenging times. Santa’s story reminds us that magic exists when people choose kindness.
Christmas: A Universal Celebration of Peace and Togetherness
Beyond religious observance, Christmas has become a universal celebration of peace, compassion, and unity.
It is a season when people reach out to help those in need, reconnect with loved ones, and reflect on the year that has passed.
Communities come together through charitable acts, shared meals, and moments of gratitude. For a brief but powerful time, the world seems to slow down, allowing space for empathy, forgiveness, and hope for a better tomorrow.
Wishing You a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays
As festive melodies play, holiday aromas fill kitchens, and loved ones gather near,
Christmas invites us to cherish what truly matters. It encourages us to give freely, love deeply, and celebrate togetherness.
May this Christmas season fill your heart with peace, your home with warmth, and your life with joy. Here’s to goodwill, laughter, meaningful connections, and the timeless enchantment of Christmas.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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My goal for 2026, as far as WP is concerned, will be to write more often without prompts.
We’ll see how that goes. I’ve never minded giving up so I may not stick to it.
I am cooking our big Christmas dinner today instead of on Christmas Day. I started this tradition a couple of years ago when the kids were leaving Christmas Day to travel down south with their dad to be with their grandparents.
I felt like it was better. It makes Christmas Day more relaxing.
Of course today I have some last minute items I need from the grocery store so I’m sending Taz to get them soon.
Sid was excited to find that his elf on the shelf left him an early Christmas gift as it’s the last night he visits until December 2026.
I probably won’t write tomorrow, I’ll be eating and surviving family.
Happy Holidays to all of you! I hope it’s whatever you want it to be. And more.
I read this story from Ann Voskamps newsletter coming at the perfect time.
Back in the windy spring of 2016, on one random Saturday morning in late April, a guy name Erik Pauze, was driving through the neighborhood, and turned up on the Eichler’s front porch, knocking on their front door.
And Mr. Eichler? He didn’t think it was worth even going to the door, but after no one answered his knocking, Erik Pauze, went and sat in his car, waiting till someone came home, waiting till he saw Mrs Eichler coming up the street. And after chatting with Erick Pauze, Mrs. Eichler came into the house to tell Mr. Eichler a truly mind-blowing story.
The knock at their door earlier, that Mr. Eichler hadn’t even saw any worth in answering, had been Erik Pauze, who had been driving from the address of one big tree tree that had been submitted for his consideration for a particular grand Christmas tree -– to another potential Christmas tree that had been considered for his consideration…When, as Mrs. Eichler put it, Erik Pauze “saw a bunch of evergreens over in our neighborhood,” Eichler said.
And Erik Pauze had turned and headed in their direction. And that’s when Mrs. Eichler told Mr. Eichler who Erik Pauze was: Erik Pauze was the head gardener of the Rockefeller Center. Driving around looking for the most iconic Christmas tree in the world.
And Mrs. Eichler turned to Mr. Eichler and she said ‘You’ll never believe it. The head gardener from the Rockefeller Center thinks our tree — is worthy to be the Rockefeller Christmas tree this year.” That’s what the news reported that year: “Eichler was surprised that his gawky tree, which had no lower branches, was such a beauty in disguise.“
The same tree that the Eichlers thought to be a nuisance in the way, that they weren’t attached to in anyway — was the very same tree that Erik Pauze, The Finder of every year’s Rockefeller Christmas Tree, thought was worth being the most beautiful Christmas tree in the world! A tree worthy of being dressed in more than 50,000 lights, a tree worth being crowned with a 900-pound sparkling crystal star, a singular tree glorious enough to turn that sky-scraper stone canyon of the city of New York, into something more like a bit of a cathedral of light.
A tree worthy of being The Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree in New York City, whose lighting is a ceremony televised to hundreds of millions around this whole spinning globe, that every day holiday season will be seen by nearly 125 million people, almost 500,000 people every single day that it’s lit, all walking past the plaza to see one of the world’s most famous iconic Christmas tree in all its glowing glory.
The very same tree.
To the firewood man in the woodlot, that same tree might just be cheap fuel.
To the florist, that same tree might be nothing more than disposal decoration.
To the lumber yard manager, that one seed that had become a tree, might actually even be a tree more trouble than it’s actual worth.
And to the owners of the tree, the Eichler’s themselves? They saw that seed that had grown into a huge tree? To be more nuisance than any real worth.
But to Eirk Pauze, head gardner of the Rockefeller Center – that seed that become a whole tree that was worthy of being the most beautiful, beloved Christmas tree in the world, worthy of nearly 125 million people to come and be in awe and wonder of it all.
The seed that grew into a tree hadn’t changed to somehow become more worthy, or worked for it, or performed, or turned itself inside out to somehow impress or be acceptable.
The tree hadn’t changed; all that had changed was who the person was who looked on the tree. When you are truly seen by the right people — you move from feeling worthless, to being valued for your infinite worth – Ann Voskamp
This year as we celebrate another Christmas, may we be reminded that when we are with the right people who see us as we are, with whom we don’t have to perform, not have to produce, create enough or impress ourselves in any way, we move from feeling unworthy to being valued. We don’t have to fight for acceptance, belonging, validation or a pat in the back because they see us with a sacred sight and through eyes of love and understanding. They assure us we are loved inspite of all our frailties and circumstances.
That when we root ourselves not in achievements and things but in whom, we will never have to fight for approval.
Above all, may we be reminded that our worth comes from the one who is Love Himself, who willingly came down in human form to share in our very imperfect and complicated lives, yet still loves us, finds us worthy enough to die for and calls us His own.
A Father’s Pride: Celebrating Abhinav’s Birthday
There are moments in life when time feels unreal—when you blink and suddenly the tiny hands that once wrapped around your finger are now strong, steady, and building a life of their own. Today is one of those moments.
Today, my younger son Abhinav turns another year older, and my heart is overflowing with gratitude, pride, and quiet awe.
From the very first day I held him, I knew my world had changed. There was something about his calm presence, his observant eyes, the way he listened before he spoke. He didn’t demand attention—he earned it effortlessly. Watching him grow has been one of the greatest privileges of my life.
Thirty years may have passed, but I still see the boy who laughed freely, who learned through curiosity, who found strength not in noise but in resilience. Life has shaped him, tested him, and refined him—and through it all, he has remained grounded, kind, and determined.
As a father, there is no greater joy than watching your child become a good human being before becoming a successful one. Abhinav, you are exactly that.
This birthday isn’t just a celebration of age—it’s a celebration of character, courage, and quiet excellence. It’s a reminder that while your journey continues forward, my love and faith in you remain constant.
And so, on this special day, I want to leave you with a poem—from a father’s heart to his son’s future.
# My Poem For Abhinav #
I held you once in trembling hands, A world reborn that day, Your first breath rewrote my life In the softest, strongest way.
You grew in steps I barely saw, Between the nights and years, Through scraped-up knees and silent wins, Through laughter mixed with tears.
You learned to stand, then walk alone, Yet never far from me, A quiet strength within your soul, A mind that longed to see.
Now thirty years have shaped your face, A man both calm and wise, But in your smile I still behold That child behind your eyes.
You’ve faced the world with steady grace, Not loud, but deeply true, Turning effort into purpose, And dreams into something you do.
Know this, son, through every mile, Through triumph, doubt, or bend— My pride in you will never fade, My love will never end.
Go chase the life that calls your name, Let hope your compass be, And when the road feels long or dark, Remember—you carry me.
For you are not just part of my life, You are my heart’s refrain, My greatest blessing, my quiet joy, My sunshine after rain.
Happy Birthday, my dear Abhinav, Your journey still unfolds— And I’ll be here, in every step, A father growing old… but proud beyond all words.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful, curious, and open-hearted mood.
Today’s writing prompt — “What are your biggest challenges?” — may sound simple, but it quietly invites us into one of the most honest conversations we can have with ourselves.
At some point, life asks each of us to pause and reflect. Not on our achievements, titles, or milestones — but on the obstacles that tested us, slowed us down, and reshaped us.
Challenges are universal. No matter our age, background, profession, or dreams, life consistently places hurdles in our path.
What truly sets us apart is not whether we face challenges, but how we respond to them and what we become because of them.
Understanding the Nature of Challenges
A challenge is rarely just a problem to be solved. More often, it is a mirror. It reflects our fears, habits, insecurities, and — sometimes unexpectedly — our hidden strengths.
When we ask, “What are my biggest challenges?” we are really asking deeper questions: Where am I being stretched? Where am I uncomfortable? Where am I learning?
Many of us instinctively label challenges as negative experiences. We try to avoid them, rush through them, or compare ourselves to others who appear to struggle less.
But challenges are not punishments. They are invitations — invitations to grow beyond who we are today.
Yes, friends, life with all its unpredictable twists and turns presents an array of challenges that shape our journey and define our character.
As I reflect on my own path, I find clarity in acknowledging the hurdles that marked my way and the lessons they etched into my existence.
Fear: Confronting the Shadows
Fear is often the first challenge we encounter. Fear of failure. Fear of the unknown. Sometimes, even fear of success.
These shadows quietly undermine confidence and keep us stuck in familiar places.
Over time, I’ve learned that fear does not disappear when we wait for the “right moment.” It softens only when we move forward despite it.
Each step taken in fear’s presence becomes a victory — proof that courage is not the absence of fear, but the decision to act anyway.
Self-Doubt: The Deceptive Whisperer
If fear shouts, self-doubt whispers. It questions our worth, minimizes our achievements, and convinces us that we are not ready or capable. Left unchecked, self-doubt becomes a powerful obstacle.
Breaking free requires intention. Surrounding ourselves with positive voices, seeking guidance from mentors, and allowing supportive friendships to remind us of our strengths can silence that inner critic. Confidence grows when we choose to believe in our ability to learn and improve.
Procrastination: Breaking the Chains
Procrastination has been one of my most persistent challenges. Big dreams can feel overwhelming, leading to delays fueled by perfectionism or fear. The solution, I’ve learned, lies in simplicity.
Breaking goals into small, manageable steps creates momentum. Deadlines, timers, and celebrating progress — not perfection — keep procrastination from taking control. Action, however imperfect, always beats inaction.
Rejection: A Stepping Stone, Not a Roadblock
Rejection is inevitable on any meaningful journey. For a long time, I viewed rejection as failure. With time, perspective changed. Every rejection carries feedback. Every “no” redirects us toward improvement.
When we stop taking rejection personally and start treating it as a lesson, it becomes a teacher rather than a deterrent. Growth often begins where comfort ends.
Staying True to Yourself
One of the most difficult challenges is staying authentic amid external pressure and societal expectations. True success is not about fitting into someone else’s definition, but about aligning our goals with our values.
Regular self-reflection and the courage to pivot when something feels misaligned ensure that the journey remains purposeful and fulfilling.
Acceptance: The Deepest Journey Within
Among all challenges, self-acceptance has been my deepest struggle. Years of self-criticism led to internal battles that tested my emotional strength.
Healing has not been linear. It required confronting darkness, seeking help, and learning compassion toward myself.
Faith, resilience, and self-love have become anchors. The battle may not be won every day, but choosing to keep going is a victory in itself.
My Final Submission
Friends, challenges do not lead us straight to success — they lead us to growth.
By facing our fears, challenging self-doubt, overcoming procrastination, embracing rejection, staying authentic, and learning to accept, we don’t just pursue success — we transform.
So I leave you with this: When life asks, “What are your biggest challenges?” answer honestly. Because hidden inside that answer is the story of who you are becoming.
What has been your greatest challenge — and what has it taught you?
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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My fifth sister and her family arrived yesterday, and I’ve heard my niece calling me so eagerly while I’m browsing at home. Hence, I went to my sister’s house, and she suddenly showed me the package and said, “Surprise!” She made me smile widely.
Thank you so much, Fred, for these amazing Christmas presents. You’re so thoughtful and kind. I tried to send back the gift card, but it cannot be. But, the books! They look so beautiful and exciting, and I love it. I also shared the markers with the kids.
Elsewhere, my brother-in-law were just harvesting his two coconut trees, and they got some for buko salad, too. The kids were so helpful. They helped my sister scrub the coconut. They were happy and enjoying the moment.
No worries. We will be the one who eat it, if you know what I mean
After…it was a play time.
Before the sun set after the many snacks we consumed, the van was approaching, and we knew that my sister-in-law and her family were inside the vehicle, and this is how we welcomed them.
I feel the holidays here, and my engagement level in your blogs will resume after the holidays, as I will do my best to enjoy this Christmastime with them.
I’m sending prayers for good health and joy for everyone. Maligayang Pasko, my amazing readers. God bless, and thank you so much!
The photo you see isn’t staged—it’s me, grinning like a kid who just won the lottery, with a 14-foot Burmese python draped across my shoulders like a living scarf.
His name is Raja, and He weighs more than my luggage on a bad day. Tourists gasp, kids point, and somewhere a smartphone camera clicks.
But for me, this moment is the cover art of a story that began in chains.
The Invisible Cage
For years, I wore shackles no one could see. They were forged from what will people say? and tempered in better stay safe.
A stable job, a predictable life, a smile that never reached my eyes. I was the reliable uncle, the yes-man, the guy who apologized for wanting more.
Yes, my dreams—writing, traveling, hell, even learning to scuba dive—were filed under Someday, maybe.
Then came the diagnosis: burnout so complete that my doctor wrote “soul fatigue” on the chart. I laughed until I cried in the parking lot. Soul fatigue? Try soul imprisonment.
The Whisper That Roared
One monsoon evening in Kerala, I wandered into a snake park on a whim. The guide handed me a juvenile python—cool, heavy, impossibly calm.
As its muscles rippled against my forearms, something electric passed between us. This creature, vilified as dangerous, was choosing to trust me. No fear. No apology. Just presence.
That night, I wrote my first honest sentence in years: “If a snake can shed its skin, why can’t I?”
Shedding Season
I started small. Quit the soul-crushing job. Booked a solo trip to Thailand with nothing but a backpack and a promise to say yes to everything that scared me. Skydiving over Pattaya? Yes. Street food at 2 a.m.? Absolutely. Then came the snake farm in Phuket.
The handler asked if I wanted to hold their star attraction—a retired film python named Raja. Most tourists opt for the baby snakes. I heard myself say, “Give me the big one.”
Raja was 16 feet of pure muscle memory. As he coiled around my torso, the old fears screamed: What if he squeezes? What if people laugh? What if you look ridiculous?
But Raja just was. No agenda. No judgment. In his unblinking eyes, I saw my own reflection—not the cautious man I’d become, but the wild-hearted boy I’d buried.
The Science of Unbinding
Burmese pythons like Sita and Raja are masters of transformation. They shed their skin in one piece, leaving behind a perfect ghost of who they were.
Biologists call this ecdysis—a process triggered when the old skin can no longer contain the growing snake. The parallels hit me like a revelation:
Constraint creates pressure: Just as the python’s skin tightens, our comfort zones eventually strangle growth.
Discomfort is the signal: Itchiness precedes the shed. My burnout? That was my soul scratching at its cage.
The shed is deliberate: Snakes rub against rough surfaces to start the process. I had to choose friction—quitting, traveling, facing fears head-on.
Freedom in the Coil
Here’s the secret no one tells you: freedom feels terrifying at first. When Raja’s coils tightened experimentally around my ribs, my lizard brain panicked. But then I remembered—pythons don’t crush what they trust. They test. They learn. They adapt.
I breathed into the pressure. In that exhale, decades of “shoulds” slipped away like old skin. The photo captures the exact second I realized: I am the snake now. I am the shedding.
Your Turn to Slither
You don’t need a python to start. Begin with one honest question: What skin am I ready to outgrow? Then rub against something rough—a fear, a boundary, a “no” you’ve never dared speak.
Last month, I published my first travel essay. Next week, I’m leading a fear-facing workshop in my home town —topic: How to Hold Your Inner Python. The irony? The man who once feared judgment now teaches others to embrace their wild.
Sita still tours the park, patient as ever. When kids ask if she’s dangerous, I tell them: “Only to the version of you that’s ready to die.”
The chains were never steel. They were stories. And stories? We rewrite them.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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This sounds super boring but I guess my answer would be pre-made burgers. Not the frozen ones, the fresh ones in the deli case of the meat section. They look really appealing.
I’m not a burger person, have never once in my entire life ordered a burger at a restaurant and at home we eat burgers very infrequently but when we do, I make them myself from ground beef.
Sometimes when I’m watching burgers being made on a cooking show, they make me want to drool. The pre-made patties at our grocery store look similar to the ones I see on tv, much more appealing than my own homemade ones.
But what stops me from buying them is thinking I’ll be judged by my family, or more specifically my partner for buying something pre-made and not made from scratch.
Also, we’re both kind of picky about meat. He grew up on wild meat like elk, moose and so to even have to eat beef is a stretch for him.
I grew up eating our own cattle that we raised and butchered and never had to buy red meat from the grocery store.
But life would be easier if I bought already made hamburger patties instead of having to make them, I feel like possibly they might taste better too. Maybe not.
Honestly, I could care less if I ever ate ground beef again in my life so I don’t know why I’m even talking about it.
Today’s prompt was: Share what you know about the year you were born. I’d say… I was born
So this is Christmas What have we here…
Obviously, this song has been playing in my head. The past few days, I feel like I’ve been getting lost somewhere. Time. It’s always time. I have a lot of catching up to do, especially with daily life. Is it possible to lose your daily activities? Something is happening, yet I also feel like nothing is getting done. Life, right? So complicated .
It’s just a day away and Christmas is here. And yet, this day goes by in a blink. We hardly get a chance to meet and talk with people before it’s over. To think we spend almost half a year anticipating it, only for it to be a blink-and-you-miss-it day – I feel so cheated . It doesn’t help that time seems to move faster every year.
Christmas also signals the end of another year. The children are inching toward their teens and adulthood, while we are sprinting toward maturity (not old ) – carrying loads of life experience and, hopefully, a little wisdom. Though wisdom is debatable. I’m sure it eludes most of us; we just don’t like to admit it. Because if we truly had wisdom, we probably wouldn’t see quite so much nonsense around us.
But honestly, I don’t think I ever imagined life in this century would be like this. It’s nowhere close to what movies portrayed – futuristic lifestyles, flying cars, desolate earths. And yet, even if the present we’re living in isn’t the future that was envisioned, I’m thankful for this life. Personally, I don’t think all that futuristic, hyper-technological living is for me. And definitely not something happening up in the air.
I need this natural, simple life – greenery, mountains, lakes, oceans, waterfalls. A world where wildlife still has a place, even if that space is shrinking. I wonder what life will be like for our grandchildren. Hopefully, not too different from what we are living now.
The photo you see isn’t staged—it’s me, grinning like a kid who just won the lottery, with a 14-foot Burmese python draped across my shoulders like a living scarf.
His name is Raja, and He weighs more than my luggage on a bad day. Tourists gasp, kids point, and somewhere a smartphone camera clicks.
But for me, this moment is the cover art of a story that began in chains.
The Invisible Cage
For years, I wore shackles no one could see. They were forged from what will people say? and tempered in better stay safe.
A stable job, a predictable life, a smile that never reached my eyes. I was the reliable uncle, the yes-man, the guy who apologized for wanting more.
Yes, my dreams—writing, traveling, hell, even learning to scuba dive—were filed under Someday, maybe.
Then came the diagnosis: burnout so complete that my doctor wrote “soul fatigue” on the chart. I laughed until I cried in the parking lot. Soul fatigue? Try soul imprisonment.
The Whisper That Roared
One monsoon evening in Kerala, I wandered into a snake park on a whim. The guide handed me a juvenile python—cool, heavy, impossibly calm.
As its muscles rippled against my forearms, something electric passed between us. This creature, vilified as dangerous, was choosing to trust me. No fear. No apology. Just presence.
That night, I wrote my first honest sentence in years: “If a snake can shed its skin, why can’t I?”
Shedding Season
I started small. Quit the soul-crushing job. Booked a solo trip to Thailand with nothing but a backpack and a promise to say yes to everything that scared me. Skydiving over Pattaya? Yes. Street food at 2 a.m.? Absolutely. Then came the snake farm in Phuket.
The handler asked if I wanted to hold their star attraction—a retired film python named Raja. Most tourists opt for the baby snakes. I heard myself say, “Give me the big one.”
Raja was 16 feet of pure muscle memory. As he coiled around my torso, the old fears screamed: What if he squeezes? What if people laugh? What if you look ridiculous?
But Raja just was. No agenda. No judgment. In his unblinking eyes, I saw my own reflection—not the cautious man I’d become, but the wild-hearted boy I’d buried.
The Science of Unbinding
Burmese pythons like Sita and Raja are masters of transformation. They shed their skin in one piece, leaving behind a perfect ghost of who they were.
Biologists call this ecdysis—a process triggered when the old skin can no longer contain the growing snake. The parallels hit me like a revelation:
Constraint creates pressure: Just as the python’s skin tightens, our comfort zones eventually strangle growth.
Discomfort is the signal: Itchiness precedes the shed. My burnout? That was my soul scratching at its cage.
The shed is deliberate: Snakes rub against rough surfaces to start the process. I had to choose friction—quitting, traveling, facing fears head-on.
Freedom in the Coil
Here’s the secret no one tells you: freedom feels terrifying at first. When Raja’s coils tightened experimentally around my ribs, my lizard brain panicked. But then I remembered—pythons don’t crush what they trust. They test. They learn. They adapt.
I breathed into the pressure. In that exhale, decades of “shoulds” slipped away like old skin. The photo captures the exact second I realized: I am the snake now. I am the shedding.
Your Turn to Slither
You don’t need a python to start. Begin with one honest question: What skin am I ready to outgrow? Then rub against something rough—a fear, a boundary, a “no” you’ve never dared speak.
Last month, I published my first travel essay. Next week, I’m leading a fear-facing workshop in my home town —topic: How to Hold Your Inner Python. The irony? The man who once feared judgment now teaches others to embrace their wild.
Sita still tours the park, patient as ever. When kids ask if she’s dangerous, I tell them: “Only to the version of you that’s ready to die.”
The chains were never steel. They were stories. And stories? We rewrite them.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I hope this blog finds you in the brightest of moods.
Today’s writing prompt feels like an open invitation to daydream: “You get to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like?”
For a reader and writer, this question goes far beyond architecture or décor—it is about creating a sanctuary where thoughts can wander freely and words feel truly at home.
My perfect reading and writing space would exist at the gentle intersection of comfort and inspiration.
It would not be loud or extravagant, but thoughtfully alive—designed to encourage both stillness and creativity.
I imagine it tucked slightly away from the busyness of the world, perhaps at the edge of a garden or near a window that opens to a wide, open sky.
This space would breathe, listen, and patiently wait for ideas to arrive.
Light would be the first essential element.
Natural light, specifically. A large window—possibly floor to ceiling—would allow sunlight to pour in during the day, shifting its mood with the passing hours.
Morning light would feel soft and hopeful, perfect for shaping new ideas, while late afternoon light would cast long shadows ideal for reflective reading.
In the evenings, warm ambient lamps would replace the sun, creating a cocoon-like glow that invites long hours with books and unfinished sentences.
Furniture would be simple yet deeply intentional.
Furniture in this space would be simple yet deeply intentional. A sturdy wooden desk, slightly worn, would hold notebooks, a laptop, scattered pens, and a comforting cup of tea.
The chair would be comfortable but not indulgent—supportive enough for long sessions, yet firm enough to keep the mind alert.
Nearby, a reading nook would exist: a plush armchair layered with cushions and a soft throw, where I could curl up with a novel and lose track of time.
Books, of course, would be the soul of this sanctuary. Shelves lining the walls would display not just neatly arranged volumes, but the story of my journey as a reader and writer.
Some books would be dog-eared and underlined, others pristine and waiting. Fiction for escape, poetry for depth, non-fiction for grounding—and a few journals tucked in between, holding half-formed ideas and memories I once feared I might forget.
In the larger picture of life, every person contributes a unique thread to the tapestry of human experience.
As a blogger who loves literature, art, and Madhubani paintings, my dream space reflects this passion. It would be a place where imagination soars and creativity thrives.
Now imagine this: a 12 x 16 room, enveloped in soothing taupe, with walls adorned in vibrant Madhubani art—each stroke telling a story.
Two windows on either side invite in gentle breezes, carrying nature’s calm into the room.
The trim, finished in a rich chocolate hue, adds warmth and quiet sophistication. A strong door seals the space, promising solitude and focus.
Shelves and bookcases will greet you
As you enter, shelves and bookcases greet you, proudly displaying favorite books alongside my own published works—a testament to a journey shaped by words.
Storage bins line the walls, waiting to hold works in progress. Every available wall becomes a canvas for my creations, turning the room into a living gallery of thought and expression.
But the dream does not stop with a single room.
I envision two connected spaces—a reading and writing retreat and a dedicated craft haven. The reading room features a comfortable recliner and a small table with a dimmable lamp.
Chess-patterned floor tiles add a playful sophistication, while a strategically placed bed invites moments of quiet contemplation and window-gazing.
Shelves cradle books, journals, and spiritual companions like the Bhagavad Gita, offering nourishment for both mind and soul.
A laptop on a stand anchors the writing corner, accompanied by a printer and neatly arranged writing supplies, always ready for the next spark of inspiration.
Music finds its place here too—
A CD player filling the room with melodies that soothe the soul and occasionally inspire spontaneous hip-hop dance, a joyful personal indulgence.
Scripture verses on boards and canvas decorate the walls, blending words and art into one visual narrative.
Adjacent to this retreat lies my dream craft room. A long table and cozy chair invite hands-on creativity, while open shelves display paints, tools, and materials.
Wooden floors ground the space, offering both warmth and durability. A small desk with a lamp and shipping supplies hints at sharing these handmade creations with the world.
The entrance is adorned with beautiful flower pots
Practical comforts are not forgotten. A simple yet inviting bathroom features a large bathtub for relaxation, while heating and air conditioning ensure year-round comfort.
Outside, the entrance is adorned with flower pots and a decorative lamp post, setting the tone for the magic within.
A yoga mat rests quietly in a corner—an invitation to movement, mindfulness, and balance.
My Final Submission
Friends, this dream sanctuary weaves together literature, art, spirituality, and personal expression.
It is a haven where words and colors dance, where creativity flows freely, and where the soul finds rest.
This is not merely a room—it is a living, breathing testament to the boundless possibilities of the human imagination.
Thank you for staying with me. I would love to hear—what does your perfect reading and writing space look like?
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Oh that’s easy. I would love to be inherently kind. Like super kind. One of those people who just oozes thoughtfulness, selflessness and positivity.
I’m serious.
I have to actually try to be nice sometimes. But I guess it’s better than not trying at all.
Right?
Finishing with some pics from my birthday yesterday…bring it on 49!
Clint built a little shelter in the backyard so we can have some fires and roast marshmallows, Sid was all over itTaz spent most of the day cooking for us yesterdayBella-Lena made the cake
The weather is actually cold, which means a truly chilly Christmas. I hope it lasts for a while. Of course, the cold has also brought along its loyal companions – sniffles everywhere. Even my fur baby has started sneezing .
The teen examined my bandaged toe today and wondered aloud if it would heal by Christmas. Then, with impeccable timing, he reminded me that I won’t be wearing any “stylish” footwear again this year. Perhaps I should temper my Christmas excitement .
This Christmas feels different from previous years. I can’t quite pinpoint why – maybe it’s the weather. There’s something dreamy about it, the kind that makes me wish we were home. I’m not sure if watching videos of home is comforting me or quietly torturing me.
The way this season has evolved over the years is something I’m still absorbing. Growing up, Christmas was simple. We looked forward to caroling and spending time with cousins. Today, there’s more entertainment, more noise, more commercialization. Yet, I do enjoy seeing the city dressed up in lights. We didn’t have all this spectacle back then.
The way the season is celebrated may have changed. Thankfully, the message hasn’t. It endures. And though our finicky hearts shift with time and circumstance, the message of Christmas continues to reverberate – quietly and faithfully, throughout the year.
New Daily Prompt: On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being ‘kill me now’ and 10 being ‘don’t kill me now, I’ve too much to live for’, how good is your life? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement, I kinda lost track myself.
My trip to Mandarmani
There are days when you scroll through old notes, and a wave of sadness quietly washes over you. Yes, that’s exactly how I felt yesterday.
In the lonely evening — the heart heavy, thoughts dim. While aimlessly scrolling through my phone, I stumbled upon a video recorded just a few days before the world changed — before the pandemic arrived.
It was a clip from my trip to Mandarmani, a serene sea beach in West Bengal. The moment the video started playing, I could almost smell the salt in the air again.
The rhythmic sound of waves, children’s laughter, the distant shout of vendors — it all came alive before my eyes.
Suddenly, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time — peace. A strange calmness settled within me. I decided then and there to share that memory with you, not just as a recollection but as a reminder of how precious life’s simple moments can be.
I have always been enchanted by the sea. The vastness of it, the boundless horizon where water meets sky, and the music of the wind that seems to cleanse both body and soul.
At Mandarmani, I remember standing quietly where the waves touched my feet — each ripple seemed to whisper something kind, something eternal.
As the waves danced around my ankles, I felt a childlike joy, the kind that makes you forget the rest of the world.
The soft golden sand slipping beneath my feet
The soft golden sand slipping beneath my feet seemed to carry away every trace of tiredness from my heart. It felt like the sea loved me back — washing my worries away, grain by grain. How I wish I could have stayed there forever.
But time, like the tides, moves on. Today, as I think of those days, my mind can hardly believe how much has changed since then.
Just a few months after that trip, the world went into lockdown. The coronavirus pandemic forced us to stay home, trapped by an invisible threat. Each day felt less about adventure and more about simply surviving.
Every morning began with a prayer of gratitude
Yes, every morning began with a prayer of gratitude — a new day alive, unharmed. Yet every evening brought the news of rising numbers, of people lost, of friends who would never return.
There were no final goodbyes, only digital condolences through screens. Life, once so vibrant, had turned into a muted echo of the past.
Compared to that, Mandarmani felt like another planet — alive and luminous. I can still recall that day clearly.
The sea was swelling gently under the mellow sun, and the beach was alive with people and colors. Children in bright clothes were chasing waves and laughter.
Little girls with flying ribbons looked like butterflies set free. Couples walked hand in hand, leaving faint footprints that the sea lovingly erased.
Somewhere near the water’s edge, a lone artist was sketching on the wet sand — capturing not just the beauty of the sea, but its pulse. Now and then, a fisherman’s song rose above the crashing waves, blending with the sound of the wind.
The sea shimmered like molten gold.
Soon the sun began its descent, painting the sky in glorious hues of amber and crimson. The sea shimmered like molten gold. Boats anchored near the shore turned into dark silhouettes, silent witnesses to the day’s last breath.
As dusk fell, lights along the path flickered on, and coconut trees cast long shadows that danced with the evening breeze.
We sat quietly, my family and I, watching the golden rays fade into a soft twilight glow. The gentle wind from the sea turned cooler, and the atmosphere filled with a calm that words can scarcely describe.
In that moment, the world felt perfect — no rush, no fear, no boundaries. Just us, nature, and peace.
Gradually, the beach began to empty. Children gazed fondly at their sand castles one last time, reluctant to leave. Balloons floated away into the darkening sky.
Even as people walked back toward the hotels, their faces glowed with fresh happiness, and their hearts felt lighter. The sea, it seemed, had shared some of its joy with all of us.
That night, long after returning to my room, the sound of the waves echoed within me. It wasn’t just a sound — it was a feeling, a living rhythm reminding me that life, no matter how uncertain, always finds its tide again.
Today, when I watch that old video amid these uncertain times, it gives me hope.
The sea taught me something essential —
that no storm lasts forever. Beyond fear and loss, the waves still rise, the sun still sets in beauty, and somewhere beyond the horizon, new light always waits.
Looking back, that day at Mandarmani was more than a memory; it became a lesson. Nature has its quiet way of healing us when words fall short.
The sea reminded me to keep faith even when the shores of life seem distant. Its endless rhythm whispers the truth — happiness may fade for a while, but it always returns with the tide.
May we all learn to listen more often to that inner ocean that gently reminds us to live, breathe, and hope again.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective mood.
Today’s writing prompt—“Share what you know about the year you were born”—is one that quietly invites us to pause, look backward, and recognize how deeply history and personal destiny are intertwined.
My own journey began on 4th June 1958, a year that stood at the crossroads of tradition and transformation, hope and uncertainty, simplicity and innovation.
The year 1958 belonged to a world still healing from the aftermath of World War II while confidently stepping into the future.
a time when societies were rebuilding
It was a time when societies were rebuilding not just cities and economies, but belief—belief in peace, progress, and possibility.
Being born in such a year feels symbolic: a reminder that many of us came into a world learning how to stand steady again.
Globally, 1958 was a remarkable year of change. It marked the early years of the Space Age, a time when humanity dared to look beyond Earth and imagine life among the stars.
In January 1958, the United States launched Explorer 1, its first successful satellite, officially entering space exploration.
The skies were no longer just skies—they became gateways to dreams, science, and limitless curiosity.
For those of us born that year, perhaps that same sense of curiosity and aspiration quietly shaped our generation.
Politically, the world was adjusting to new realities.
The Cold War influenced global thinking, creating tension but also pushing nations toward innovation and strategic cooperation.
In Europe, 1958 saw the strengthening of unity with the foundations of what would later become the European Union.
It was a year that whispered an important message: collaboration matters, and shared futures are stronger than divided ones.
Culturally, 1958 had its own distinctive charm.
Life moved at a gentler pace. Conversations happened face-to-face, letters were handwritten, and patience was an everyday virtue. Television was slowly becoming a household presence, but families still gathered around radios, sharing stories and laughter.
Rock and roll was gaining momentum
Music carried warmth and emotion—rock and roll was gaining momentum, and artists like Elvis Presley were redefining youth, freedom, and expression. It was a time when melodies lingered and lyrics stayed with you.
Technology in 1958 was modest by today’s standards, yet revolutionary for its time. Computers were enormous, room-sized machines, used mainly by governments and research institutions.
There were no mobile phones, no internet, and no instant messages—yet human connection felt deeply personal and meaningful.
Perhaps growing up in a world like that taught many of us the value of patience, resilience, and genuine relationships.
Being born on 4th June, close to the middle of the year, also feels symbolic. June represents growth, warmth, and light—a season when nature is alive and generous.
a month that encourages optimism,
It’s a month that encourages optimism, much like the spirit of 1958 itself.
Looking back, I can’t help but feel that the year quietly shaped the values many of us carried forward: respect for effort, appreciation for progress, and gratitude for simple joys.
Reflecting on the year of one’s birth is more than an exercise in nostalgia. It’s a way of understanding how the world we entered helped shape who we became.
The challenges, triumphs, and transitions of 1958 created a backdrop against which many lives—mine included—began to unfold.
So yes, this prompt truly is interesting. It reminds us that our birth year is not just a date on a calendar, but a chapter in the grand story of humanity.
And what a privilege it is to look back, reflect, and say: this was the world that welcomed me.
Thank you for being with me and for patiently reading.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Today’s writing prompt is one that gently pulls you inward, the kind of question that invites you to pause, take a deep breath, and listen to the quiet corners of your own heart. The prompt simply asked:
“What does this moment in your life truly mean?”
A short question. A soft question. But one that can open doors you didn’t even know existed.
The Question That Slows You Down
Some questions arrive like lightning—sharp, sudden, demanding. But this one is different.
It arrives like early morning sunlight brushing across your face, asking nothing, yet illuminating everything.
Most of us move through our days in a rush—completing tasks, performing responsibilities, fulfilling expectations.
Rarely do we stop to understand where we emotionally are in our own journey.
This question gives us pause. A pocket of stillness. A moment to truly look at our life from a gentle distance.
The Hidden Power of Asking Yourself “Why Now?”
When you ask yourself what this moment means, you are really asking:
What phase of my life am I standing in?
What am I learning?
What am I outgrowing?
What am I quietly yearning for?
And what am I finally ready to accept?
In a world where everyone is rushing toward answers, sometimes the greatest wisdom lies in asking the right question.
Questions help us uncover meaning, and meaning helps us navigate life with clarity.
Many people live entire years without ever pausing to notice how far they’ve come. This simple prompt turns that pause into a mirror.
Naming Your Chapter Gives You Power
Every life has chapters. Some bright, some confusing, some heavy, some quietly beautiful.
But the problem is, we usually don’t realize what chapter we’re in until it becomes a memory.
That’s why this question matters.
When you ask, “What does this moment mean?” you force your inner self to look at the present with intention. You begin to see that:
Perhaps this is a chapter of healing
Perhaps it is a season of rebuilding
Perhaps it is the start of courage
Perhaps it is a gentle pause after long storms
Or perhaps it is the moment before a beautiful transformation
Whatever the truth is, naming it gives it power. You begin to walk through your days with awareness instead of drifting through them unconsciously.
Your Life Is Speaking—Are You Listening?
There comes a moment in every person’s life when they stop waiting for others to “understand” them—and begin understanding themselves. This question nudges you into that moment.
Every emotion you feel today carries a message.
Every struggle carries a lesson.
Every longing carries direction.
Every silence carries meaning.
When you reflect on your moment in life, you become a better listener to your own soul.
You stop navigating life based on noise from outside, and start navigating based on truth from inside.
Meaning Doesn’t Need to Be Grand
We sometimes think that meaning must be poetic, profound, or philosophical. But honestly, meaning can be as simple as:
“I am learning to breathe again.”
“I am choosing peace.”
“I am letting go of what no longer fits.”
“I am discovering myself in new ways.”
“I am ready for a new chapter.”
Your meaning doesn’t need to impress anyone. It only needs to feel true to you.
The Beauty of Reflecting, Without Judging
Writing prompts like this remind us that self-reflection is not a luxury;
it is a necessity. When we reflect honestly—without guilt, without fear, without judgment—we begin to see ourselves clearly.
Clarity brings calm.
Calm brings confidence.
And confidence brings a more purposeful, peaceful life.
This is the quiet gift of introspective questions: they become small turning points.
Final Submission: Let This Moment Speak
Your life is not random. Your seasons are not meaningless. Your present moment carries messages you are allowed to hear.
When you ask yourself what this moment truly means, you embark on a gentle journey toward self-awareness—a journey that brings you closer to yourself.
So pause today. Ask the question. Listen softly.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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This poem is a gentle affirmation of mindful optimism and inner strength. It highlights gratitude, resilience, and self-belief as daily practices.
The poem encourages choosing positive thoughts, learning from challenges, and growing steadily toward a more hopeful and meaningful life.
I Am a Positive Thinker
I am a positive thinker, I choose the brighter way, I train my mind to see the good in every single day. With gratitude in my heart, I greet each brand-new day, For simple, little joys that gently come my way.
With affirmations, I start my day, for big and little things, A thankful heart accepts whatever each moment brings. My attitude is my true power, shaping what I see, If I believe in better paths, they slowly come to me.
Motivation lights my mind like sunshine after rain, It tells me, “Keep on moving—joy comes after pain.” Through optimism, I remind my thoughts to gently say, “This storm will pass; tomorrow brings a brand-new day.”
I choose happiness, not as luck, but as a daily choice, I listen to my hopeful thoughts, my inner, kinder voice. From quiet moments comes inspiration, soft yet true, A spark that says, “Believe—there’s more for you.”
With growing confidence, I stand a little tall, I learn from every rise and fall; I value them all. I do not claim my path is free of struggle or doubt, But I face the dark and slowly work it out.
I am a positive thinker—this truth I proudly say, I build a better life with the thoughts I choose each day.
I made a startling discovery this evening while cleaning up the coffee maker in preparation for tomorrow’s ritual.
What the what?!Well, that’s unfortunate.
First thing in the morning, I should probably drink my coffee before trying to make it…
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and energetic mood. Today’s writing prompt—“If you started a sports team, what would the colors and mascot be?”—sparked excitement in me, because it gave me the perfect opportunity to share a story close to my heart: the journey of building my very own table tennis team.
Allow me to introduce Net Ninja, a team born out of passion, discipline, and a love for the fast-paced world of table tennis, as we prepare for an upcoming tournament.
The Origin of Net Ninja
When I first envisioned leading a table tennis team, I knew the name had to reflect the essence of the sport.
Table tennis is not just about hitting a ball back and forth—it demands agility, lightning-fast reflexes, precision, and strategic thinking.
I wanted a name that embodied all these qualities, and that’s how Net Ninja came into existence.
The word “ninja” symbolizes stealth, speed, and mastery. Much like ninjas, our gameplay relies on swift, calculated movements and intelligent decision-making.
Every serve, spin, and smash is deliberate. On the table, we aim to stay one step ahead of our opponents—not through brute force alone, but through awareness and control.
Leading a team of five dedicated players has been both a privilege and a responsibility.
Beyond competition, our goal is to represent the true spirit of sportsmanship—respect for the game, for our opponents, and for each other.
Colors That Speak Our Identity
Colors are more than just visual elements; they create identity, unity, and emotional connection. For Net Ninja, I chose white and red, two powerful colors that perfectly reflect our ethos.
White symbolizes focus, discipline, and clarity. It represents the calm and composed mindset required to perform under pressure.
Just like a ninja who remains poised before striking, we approach every match with determination and mental balance.
Red, on the other hand, stands for energy, passion, and intensity. It captures the fire within us—the drive to give our best, to fight for every point, and to never back down, no matter how challenging the match becomes.
Together, white and red form a bold and striking contrast on our jerseys and banners.
They give us a sleek, modern look that not only turns heads but also reminds us of who we are every time we step onto the court.
Our Mascot: Shadow the Fox
No sports team feels complete without a mascot, and for Net Ninja, that role belongs to Shadow the Fox.
Why a fox? Because foxes are known for their intelligence, quick thinking, and adaptability—qualities that align perfectly with our playing style.
Table tennis often demands instant adjustments, clever shot placement, and the ability to read an opponent’s moves, and the fox embodies all of that.
Shadow is imagined as a nimble fox with piercing eyes and a playful grin. He represents agility, wit, and alertness, constantly reminding us to stay sharp and outthink our competition.
At the same time, Shadow brings a sense of fun and lightheartedness to the team, lifting our spirits during intense matches and reminding us that joy is at the heart of the game.
The Journey So Far
Last year, Net Ninja came agonizingly close to victory, finishing as runner-up by just a single game—an experience that fueled our determination even more.
This year, as we celebrate our second anniversary, the team is back in full swing, ready to chase the trophy with renewed vigor.
Preparing for the tournament has been an exhilarating journey, filled with sweat, laughter, and countless “aha” moments.
Every practice—from perfecting our serves to fine-tuning doubles strategies—has brought us closer together, turning challenges into opportunities for growth.
Each member brings a unique spark to the table: one delivers smashing, lightning-fast shots that leave opponents scrambling, while another anchors the team with impenetrable defense, making even the most difficult returns seem effortless.
Together, we balance and elevate each other, turning individual strengths into collective power.
But our true secret weapon is teamwork. Through trust, open communication, and mutual respect, we’ve transformed from a group of players into a cohesive, unstoppable force.
On the table, we move as one—focused, fearless, and ready to turn last year’s near miss into this year’s victory.
Reflecting on the Prompt
Creating Net Ninja has been an incredibly fulfilling experience. It’s not just about winning matches—it’s about building connections, developing discipline, and creating memories that extend beyond the scoreboard.
This writing prompt reminded me that a sports team is more than its name, colors, or mascot. It’s a reflection of shared values, passion, and purpose. For me, Net Ninja represents growth, resilience, and the joy of pursuing something meaningful with others.
So now I turn the question to you: If you were to start a sports team, what would your colors and mascot be—and what story would they tell?
Until next time, stay passionate, stay focused, and keep smashing your goals—just like a ninja.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Even as Christmas day draws closer, I am left contemplating the season and how impactful it can be, whether one believes or doesn’t. I feel the sacredness of the season, yet there’s a contrast – where nothing feels holy. As for myself, once again, I oscillate in the in-between
On Wednesday, we had a pre-Christmas party with our church house group. There was a gift exchange game, and my husband managed to steal a book – arguably the best kind of win . I haven’t started it yet, but the person who gifted it said it’s a good story set against the backdrop of the Iran invasion. It does sound promising. I’ll have to wait my turn with it.
The party itself was nice. As always, the highlight was the food . Though lately, too much variety tends to confuse my taste buds. I find myself standing there, oddly overwhelmed, trying to decide what to eat. That’s probably why – even at weddings – I prefer a smaller buffet spread. Fewer choices mean I can actually enjoy what’s on my plate.
Food snob? Hopefully not. Strange? Possibly. Looks like I might be guilty after all.
Just pre-Christmas spirit. While the little girl is happily entertained at another kids’ Christmas gathering, we’ve managed to sneak out for a much-needed coffee. Coffee over socializing, anytime
My All-Time Favorite Automobile: Trust, Grit, and the Roads That Shaped Me
Hello dear friends,
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt—“What is your all-time favorite automobile?”—is a fascinating one.
Automobiles are never just about engines, horsepower, or metal frames. They are memories, milestones, freedom on four wheels, and sometimes quiet companions during the longest and most transformative journeys of our lives.
For me, choosing an all-time favorite automobile has never been about speed, luxury, or cutting-edge technology. It has always been about character, reliability, and the quiet way a machine earns your trust over time.
When I reflect deeply on this question, two powerful images come to mind: the legendary Toyota Land Cruiser, known worldwide for its dependability, and the unforgettable day of my very first Bullet ride.
The day that taught me courage, confidence, and the joy of moving beyond fear.
Today I would like to share the story of my first Bullet ride, because that moment shaped not only my relationship with automobiles but also my outlook on life itself. Please stay with me.
The Story to Remember
In the journey of our lives, certain moments stand out like vibrant threads, weaving stories that continue to resonate through the years.
One such vivid thread in my life is the day I embarked on my first Bullet ride—a journey that transcended fear and welcomed the sweet taste of victory.
This story takes me back to a beautiful phase of life—holding the joining letter of my first banking job.
The bank was the Bank of India, and my posting was at Jhumaritilaiya, a town alive with conversations, music, and the immense popularity of Binaca Geet Mala in those days.
Transitioning from student life to professional life, I was filled with enthusiasm and optimism.
Being single and the youngest member of my family, I carried no burdens. Words like worry, stress, tension, and sorrow were completely absent from my dictionary.
My only focus was on moving forward, embracing life, and seeing myself as the hero of my own journey.
On November 10, 1983, I reported for duty at the Bank of India’s Jhumaritilaiya branch. The branch manager, Sri D. Ekambram, welcomed me warmly.
The atmosphere felt perfect, almost destined. For the first seven days, as a Field Officer, I underwent training on banking procedures—especially rural lending and loan recovery.
Field Visits and the Bullet Challenge
One fine day, the branch manager called me to his chamber and informed me that I would be visiting nearby villages to interact with farmers and disburse loans according to their needs.
He also mentioned that the bank had purchased a brand-new Bullet motorcycle for field visits.
I hesitantly expressed my concern. The village roads were rough, and I suggested that a jeep might be more suitable. He chuckled and said, “We don’t have that much power.”
There was another problem—one I could no longer hide. I had never learned to ride a motorcycle, especially not a heavy Bullet. I confessed my dilemma honestly.
Smiling confidently, he reassured me, “No worries. I will teach you to ride the Bullet in one day.”
That night was sleepless. I kept imagining myself falling, breaking a limb, and being helpless in a new town. Fear occupied every corner of my mind.
Beyond Fear, Victory Beckons
The next morning, after prayers and seeking blessings from every deity I could remember, I went to his house near Jhanda Chowk around 10 a.m.
He warmly welcomed me, introduced me to his newlywed wife, and soon we headed toward a nearby village called Bekobar on the brand-new Bullet.
The terrain was uneven and challenging—yet that was where my lesson would unfold.
He asked me to sit on the Bullet and slowly release the clutch. With a few jerks and a pounding heart, the Bullet began to move.
Fear gave way to focus. Balance replaced panic. I realized that confidence mattered more than physical strength.
By afternoon, I had done it. Yes, mission successful.
That lunch tasted extraordinary. Even today, the image of that first Bullet remains etched in my memory. That day, I learned a lesson far greater than riding a motorcycle:
“Beyond fear, victory beckons.”
Why This Is My Answer to the Prompt
Whether it is the unstoppable Land Cruiser or my first Bullet ride, automobiles reflect who we are and what we overcome.
They teach us patience, courage, and trust. They remind us that reliability—both mechanical and personal—can carry us through the roughest roads.
That is why, for me, automobiles will never be just machines. They are stories on wheels.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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A good day starts with time to myself in the morning. At least one hour so I can have coffee, use my jade roller, journal and catch up on WP posts. One hour’s good but two is better because then I also have time to workout.
Being productive throughout the day marks a good day. I like being so busy that I don’t have (or make) time to scroll on social media. But no so busy that I feel overwhelmed.
Time for a ten minute power nap in the afternoon helps me recharge.
Conversations with my family and coworkers that are conflict-free are imperative for a good day. I like talking to people.
If I can sprinkle some healthy food choices in there throughout the day, then that’s the cherry on top.
In September 2023 while on vacation on Vancouver Island, Taz & Cordelia wanted to give this Adventure Forest Zipline a try. I love summer photos this time of year.
This poem shows the sadness of lost innocence. By comparing a young leaf taken from its tree, it questions the cruelty of the world and laments lives that never grow fully. It reflects a soft sadness for hope, kindness, and unachieved dreams.
“The Fallen Leaf”
Today, a young leaf fell in silence, Still breathing green, still full of hope. It was not dry, not tired of living, It had just begun to cope.
The world did not wait for its laughter, Did not care for its fragile heart. It wanted to play, to wander, to wonder, But cruelty tore its dreams apart.
Why is the world so hungry for pain? Why does it steal before life grows? Why was the leaf left to wither slowly, Why leave her in unbearable throes?
The wind whispers, the shadows sigh, And tears fall from the lonely sky. But even fallen, though unseen, She leaves a trace of what has been.
What does “belonging” look like for you at this stage of your life?
WP and its prompts – always making us work hard and stretch our imagination.
Each stage of life is a discovery and a revelation about ourselves. I’d like to believe I’ve grown into a better version of myself compared to even five years ago. Over the past few years, I’ve unconsciously been on a journey of self-discovery. Unconsciously, because it wasn’t something I actively pursued – yet reading and observation opened my self-awareness.
Encountering yourself is not a pleasant journey. It is realistically painful, but deeply necessary and worthwhile.
At this stage of life, where I feel more confident about who I am and no longer stuck on the identity bandwagon, belonging takes on a whole new meaning. I’m discovering that when I’m comfortable with myself, I already belong. I don’t have to depend on external factors to make me feel I have a place somewhere.
I’m gradually realizing and accepting that my identity is not wife, mother, homemaker, friend, sister, or any other label. I am simply me – a little weird, a little crazy, strong-willed, but also considerate and sensitive. The roles foisted upon me do not define me. Discovering that my identity rests not in what I do, but in who God says I am, has been humbling, eye-opening, and a burden I no longer have to carry.
I do not need to be part of a social circle or clique. That’s not to dismiss social circles – we are not created to walk this life alone – but my circle consists of very few individuals. These are people and relationships I’ve nurtured along the way. They’ve taken years to grow, though a few are still budding. They are real – non-performative – spaces where raw truths and hard conversations are exchanged. With them, I’ve found I belong.
Belonging means a sense of safety, not just proximity. My people have given me the space to be true to who I am. It’s a space where we can exhale – without holding our breath or our tongue .
It is presence over permanence. The future is uncertain, but even within that uncertainty, we choose to create moments – conversations and sometimes quiet companionship. We may not talk every day, but we know we are always available for each other. Conversations don’t always have to be heavy; sometimes it’s shared lightheartedness, silliness, and yes, a bit of gossip that lightens the load.
Belonging is being seen – in all my mess, missteps, frailties, and flaws – and accepted just the same. It’s not always about fixing or finding solutions. Sometimes it’s about someone quietly walking beside you, where words aren’t needed – only presence.
Above all, I belong. I belong to my family – the one I was born into and the one I’ve made. And there is no greater security or love than that.
I hope this blog finds you smiling—perhaps even with that tiny spark of childhood mischief dancing quietly in your eyes.
Today’s writing prompt asks a deceptively simple question: What was the last thing you did purely for play or fun?
And just like that, I am carried back to sunlit memories of childhood—when fun wasn’t scheduled, justified, or postponed. It was simply life itself.
Back then, joy arrived effortlessly.
Yes, it came disguised as a game of tag beneath a mango tree, shared laughter after slipping in the mud.
And, sometimes, long afternoons spent building imaginary kingdoms out of sticks, sand, and boundless imagination. There was no planning, no guilt, no need for validation—only pure, unfiltered play.
As adults, however, something changes.
We begin to treat fun like a luxury—something to be earned after responsibilities are met. Something reserved for rare holidays.
Sometimes, something we even feel embarrassed to desire. Yet the heart does not forget. Beneath years of routines and obligations, it still longs for moments of silliness, creativity, and freedom.
So, what was the last thing I did for fun?
Surprisingly, the memory that surfaces first comes from my working years at the bank, during a particularly stressful assignment.
Recognizing the mounting pressure, the organization took a thoughtful initiative and sent us to a training center for a week. Instead of lectures and targets, we were given something unexpected: toys.
Yes—toys, and we were children again
We played simple children’s games, built structures with colorful bricks, passed bright plastic balls around in circles, and laughed without restraint.
That vivid pink ball, in particular, unlocked something forgotten inside us. For that one week, we weren’t employees or problem-solvers—we were children again. Free, light, and joyfully present.
After retirement, fun returned in a more intimate, tender form—through my granddaughter.
One afternoon, a simple game of passing a ball turned into an uncontrollable giggle-fest.
We challenged each other to invent the silliest ways to catch it—with elbows, hopping on one leg, eyes closed. By the end, we were both on the floor, laughing until our sides hurt.
My body felt tired, but my heart felt wonderfully light.
That moment reminded me: play doesn’t diminish us as adults—it restores us.
Of course, fun doesn’t always look playful or silly. Sometimes, it arrives as a quiet adventure. Kayaking, for instance, brings a rhythm that calms the mind while awakening the spirit.
But, my favourite, at other times, it’s a spontaneous journey—to Darjeeling or Gangtok—where cool mountain air and misty streets gently untangle life’s worries.
Sitting with a cup of tea under Kanchenjunga’s watchful presence reminds me that exploration has no age limit.
Whether through laughter at home or solitude in the hills, all these moments point to one truth:
Fun is not frivolous. Fun makes us human.
If you’re reading this and thinking, “I don’t even remember the last time I had fun,” you’re not alone.
Many of us forget how to play—not because we’ve lost the ability, but because we’ve forgotten to give ourselves permission.
Here are a few gentle reminders to help awaken your inner child:
Let Go of Inhibitions
Worried about looking silly? That’s exactly where fun begins. Silliness is freedom.
Be Spontaneous
Some of life’s best moments are unplanned. Say yes to the unexpected.
Share Joy with Loved Ones
Laughter strengthens bonds in ways words cannot. Play together.
Experiment Creatively
Paint boldly. Write freely. Garden imperfectly. Creativity is play for the soul.
Break the Routine
Dance while cooking. Sing while cleaning. Leave a silly note behind. Small joys matter.
My Final Submission
Fun is more than a mood—it is a celebration of being alive. No matter our age, roles, or responsibilities, an inner child still lives within us, waiting patiently to laugh, explore, and feel free.
The last thing I did for fun didn’t just brighten a moment—it created a memory that will live on in my heart.
And that is the beauty of play: It asks for no money, no perfection, and no permission—only a willing yes.
So, dear reader, I leave you with the same question:
What was the last thing you did for play or fun?
Maybe today is the perfect day to find your answer.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I know it’s the season of hope, giving, and love – but that doesn’t mean I can’t ruminate a little, or deny that life can simultaneously be exhausting and exasperating.
I’m not downplaying the spirit and festive cheer, or the reason and meaning behind it – that this is a time for family and friends, belonging and community. Yet this is often juxtaposed with meaningless celebrations, where the external is bright, the outer structure exudes triumph and abundance, but internally there is more loneliness. Many go without belonging anywhere; relationships are fractured, and laughter is often manufactured.
I’ve been in that space where Christmas was just another holiday. I’ve spent it alone, and the season can feel haunting – heavy, hollow, and empty.
So this season, I find myself revisiting what Christmas means for each of us individually. Amid the laughter and togetherness we see, there are many more who are hurting and feel they don’t belong.
I can’t help but think about this paradox of life: within moments of joy and blessing, there also exists unspeakable ache and desolation.
It is the birth of life, the promise of renewal and new beginnings – yet for many, that life feels distant, unattainable. Weariness, loss, and quiet despair weigh heavily, leaving them suspended in a place where renewal feels denied, or simply not meant for them.
Nowhere is this paradox more visible than in what Christmas represents.
For those who celebrate the holidays, when do you put up your tree or decorations?
I was late this year, decorating and putting up the trees and as a result, I feel rushed and a bit behind.
It doesn’t help that my daughter Bella-Lena and I decided to completely redo the way we decorate and MADE most of the decorations. It involved a lot of glue gunning, stapling and cutting paper. She also made pom pom’s from yarn and a bunch of bows from velvet ribbon.
Super time consuming.
We actually still haven’t finished the tree completely or hung up all the paper snowflakes from the ceiling.
Besides that, I am doing my Christmas baking at the same time. I have about ten or so different desserts/squares/treats that I usually make doubles of, so that there’s enough for us and also to give out to friends, family, teacher etc.
Back to the prompt, I like to wait until at least December 1 to decorate and put up the trees. I can’t get into the festive spirit in November. It just feels wrong for some reason. Then December rolls around, my outlook changes completely, and I’m like, let’s get our Christmas on!
This poem is a quiet reflection on being seen, wounded, and still grateful.
It speaks to the delicate balance between pain and love, acknowledging life’s harsh lessons while honoring the space it gives us to grow, endure, and simply be.
“O Fragile Life”
Someone, somewhere, hears my sigh, Sees the tear I never cry. Loves me softly, just a part, For my hopes and for my heart.
For every dream I dared to keep, For every night I couldn’t sleep, For all the weight, the silent strife, Still—you held me, O fragile life.
You were kind, yet you were hard, You taught me slowly, left me scarred. I still must learn, I still must grow, Through paths I fear, through winds I know.
And even so, with all the pain, With loss, with doubt, with quiet rain, I love you, life, for giving me The space to be… unbound and free.
Describe a man who has positively impacted your life.
For me, impact is not about a person, but about what I’ve learned impact truly requires.
Worthless Pursuit
We all want to teach, to show or to lead, to provide solutions, come up with answers, suggestions, or advice.
But no one wants to sit and listen, to understand, to say, take my hand or here I am.
We don’t have time for meaningful conversations, for developing connections and relationships that are fulfilling.
We chase after fleeting desires, worthless pursuit and mirage, that robs our soul – leaving us burdened and weary, spent and empty.
Until we find our way, understand our own resilience trust the voice within recapture our soul’s worth, and find meaning in those things that breathe life within, we shall continue to be observers of our own undoing – being led by many who have not understood our inward being.
Hello, dear friends — I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood.
Life often moves so quickly that we forget to pause and reflect on the quiet forces that shape us.
Today’s writing prompt invited me to slow down, look inward, and acknowledge the influences that have gently guided my journey.
Yes, this asks a deceptively simple question: “Who are the biggest influences in your life?”
At first glance, it feels like a question that could be answered in a sentence or two — a name, a role, a relationship.
But the more I reflected on it, the more I realized that influence rarely announces itself loudly. It works quietly, shaping our thoughts, values, and choices over time, often without us noticing.
People play powerful roles in shaping who we become.
When we hear the word influence, we often think of parents, teachers, mentors, or public figures we admire. And rightly so. These people play powerful roles in shaping who we become.
Yet influence is not limited to authority or age. Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it nudges. And sometimes it challenges us in ways that only make sense in hindsight.
For many of us, family is our first and most lasting influence. Not because they are perfect — far from it — but because they are our earliest mirrors.
Through family, we learn what love looks like, how conflicts are handled, how dreams are nurtured or discouraged, and how resilience is practiced on ordinary days.
A parent’s work ethic, a grandparent’s quiet wisdom, or even a sibling’s defiance can plant seeds that grow for decades. Even the traits we promise ourselves never to repeat often become powerful guides in shaping who we choose to become.
As I reflect on my own life, I realize that I have met many people who have influenced me along the way.
Each has contributed something valuable to my journey. Yet, if I must choose the single greatest influence in my life, it may surprise you — it is my granddaughter.
My childhood returned to me
When she entered our family, it felt as though my childhood returned to me. Watching her grow day by day filled my life with renewed wonder and joy.
She became my lifeline, and unknowingly, my greatest teacher. From her, I learned how to be happy in the truest sense.
Her innocence taught me a powerful lesson: do not worry excessively about what others say — do what makes your heart happy.
I witness her kindness in the way she effortlessly connects with friends and family, always returning kindness tenfold.
Her heart extends sympathy even to strangers, reflecting a natural goodness that cannot be taught.
Reminding me that empathy is not a weakness
Despite her young age, she demonstrates emotional depth — easily moved by touching stories and films — reminding me that empathy is not a weakness but a strength.
Life, of course, presents its fair share of challenges. Through ups and downs, I have learned that resilience is not about avoiding hardship but growing through it.
Watching her navigate her academic journey reinforces the idea that learning never truly ends. She inspires me to continue reading, writing, and growing, because life itself is a lifelong classroom.
One of the most valuable lessons she teaches me is the importance of cordial family relationships.
Her natural warmth toward every family member reminds me that harmony within the family is essential for a truly happy life. Material success means little without emotional connection.
simple living and high thinking
Her philosophy of “simple living and high thinking” echoes deeply within me. It has guided me through times of financial constraint without ever compromising family bonds or personal integrity.
She strongly dislikes dishonesty and betrayal and holds firm principles. When she is upset, it stems from a deep sense of justice and integrity — qualities that command respect.
Beyond this strong exterior lies an incredibly positive soul. What impresses me most is her outlook on life. She often reminds me that despite difficulties, life is beautiful and meant to be enjoyed fully.
Her optimism became a guiding light during moments of sadness and doubt, helping me regain perspective and strength.
Through her, life has taught me the power of gratitude and perseverance. She has shown me never to give up easily, even when success feels distant.
Setbacks do not make the journey regretful; they enrich it with lessons and inner strength.
My Final Submission
So, who are the biggest influences in our lives? They are not always the most obvious figures. They may arrive quietly, in unexpected forms, teaching us joy, resilience, kindness, and hope.
Perhaps the better question is not just who influences us — but what kind of influence we are becoming for others. Because whether we realize it or not, we are all weaving threads into the tapestry of someone else’s life.
And that, dear friends, is a responsibility — and a privilege — worth honoring.
May we remain mindful of those who shape us, grateful for the lessons they offer, and intentional about the influence we leave behind.
Because in the end, our lives are not measured only by what we achieve, but by the love, values, and inspiration we pass on to others.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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For once the WP prompt is more appealing than the Coffee Monsterz prompt…
And the answer to the prompt is yes, my life today is what I pictured a year ago. It’s the same as last year and I’m grateful for that.
In fact it’s probably easier today than I imagined it. That’s because job-wise, I have less responsibility on me right now, and I’m here for it. My kids joke that I seem to barely work lately. But I say, well I’ve earned it.
In my twenty-four years as a nurse, I did my fair share of working Christmases and every other holiday, putting in twelve hour shifts at the hospital and in the personal care home. According to the Manitoba Nurses Union collective agreement, you are required to work every other Christmas/New Year.
Anywho, I woke up today thinking about writing, specifically why we write. We don’t write to please others, writing is supposed to be a self-serving cathartic experience. Yet I feel like there must be some element of pleasing the reader.
Correct?
Would you actually write if you knew that everyone was skipping by your words and in fact, nobody was gaining pleasure from your writing? The words literary g-spot came to mind.
Would you still write if it pleased no one?
I do write for me, I feel better when I write daily. Here and in my journal. I am relieved when I get these words and sentences off my chest.
But if I was writing for a big empty hole where no person’s eyes scanned the words, would it feel the same?
Sid’s Santa photos turned out sooooo cute this year!
This is an inspiring call to courage and self-belief. Combining rhythm with positivity, it celebrates the strong human spirit that dreams, confronts challenges, and strives for freedom.
Through vivid images of flight and renewal, the poem emphasizes that true strength and freedom come from within.
Rise and Fly
I’m still surprised by all I see, The world unfolds and calls to me. My heart ignites, my dreams aspire, Each step is fueled by living fire.
I chase the dawn, I touch the flame, No doubt or fear can fade my name. Through storm and shadow, loss and night, I burn through darkness, claiming light.
The hero waits within my soul, To lift me up, to make me whole. With wings of faith, I soar on high, No chain can bind, no limit tie.
So hear me roar, and hear me say, I rise, I fight, I own the day!
Not by a long shot. I would never have dreamed my present life. And yet, I am learning – discovering – that
In the darkest night, when I believe the light has stopped shining, when there is no hope, no path, no horizon in sight,
Grace pursues me. Love covers my frailties. Forgiveness binds the wounds and softens the edges. Mercy pours down like an offering, and His fullness holds me when I am weighed down by trials I cannot overcome.
I find myself being lifted up by arms of Love and Faithfulness. Though I am unable to see the light or carve out the way, deep within, the soul is awakened – renewed, lighting a spark I didn’t know I had.
So, I press forward – unsure, terrified, uncertain, but believing that in all its mess and brokenness, life is still worth living.
These thoughts were written a year ago. Thank you so much for reading again. Year 2025 for me is beautiful and I have faith that next year 2026 will be even more beautiful.
When the year 2024 started, I asked myself, what would this year bring to me. And, as I review, some things weren’t realized, but some unexpected things happened that made me grow.
As the year is closing, I’m deeply thankful I managed to get where I am now and still alive. Thank God. I will focus on what I have than to look and be sad for things I don’t have. I have everything that I need. My other dreams will be realized in God’s perfect timing. I always remind myself that “I own nothing.” My life, my belongings, and even my writings are blessings from above. All that I have (am) is God’s property. (Please excuse me for the Atheist.) This is my own perception of life.
Have a lovely Wednesday, my amazing readers. Stay blessed!
I hope this blog finds you smiling, relaxed, and perhaps holding a warm cup of tea or coffee.
Today’s writing prompt immediately caught my attention because it asks a question that seems simple on the surface, yet unfolds into something deeply personal the more we reflect on it: “How are you creative?”
At first, it feels like the kind of question that demands a quick, clever answer. But creativity is not something that fits neatly into a sentence. It is not just something we do—it is something we live.
This question invites us to pause, look inward, and gently recognize the quiet yet powerful ways creativity flows through our everyday lives.
Rethinking Creativity: Beyond Talent and Titles
When we hear the word creative, many of us instantly picture artists, musicians, writers, or performers.
While these are beautiful and visible expressions of creativity, they represent only a fraction of what creativity truly is.
Creativity lives wherever imagination meets intention—whether in art, problem-solving, relationships, or daily routines.
A teacher reimagining a lesson, a parent turning a simple afternoon into a joyful memory, or someone finding a new way to navigate life’s challenges—all of these are creative acts.
Creativity is not only about producing something tangible; it is about how we think, adapt, and connect with the world around us.
Discovering Creativity in the Ordinary
One of the most empowering realizations I’ve had is that creativity thrives in ordinary moments. It does not require applause or perfection to be meaningful.
Cooking a meal by instinct rather than recipe, decorating a space to reflect your mood, writing a heartfelt note.
Or finding calm in chaos—these moments may seem small, yet they are deeply creative. They carry choice, originality, and care.
Art as My Language of Self-Expression
For me, creativity finds its most authentic voice through art. Art is a powerful means of self-expression—it allows us to communicate emotions and thoughts that words often fail to capture.
I see myself as an observational artist and a dabbler, someone who enjoys exploring without rigid boundaries.
Interestingly, I was never an artist in my younger years. My professional life in banking revolved around numbers, logic, and precision. Creativity had little room to breathe.
But after retirement, when schedules softened and time expanded, I felt drawn toward colors—almost instinctively.
One quiet afternoon, I picked up an old brush, dipped it into blue, and let it wander across the paper. What emerged was not a masterpiece, but it was honest. It was mine.
From that moment on, painting became my therapy, my celebration, and my meditation.
Cartoon Drawing: (Observing Life with Humor)
Cartoon drawing became one of my favorite creative outlets. It is a delightful blend of observation, imagination, and storytelling.
As an observational artist, cartooning encourages me to closely study people, animals, expressions, and anatomy—then reinterpret them with exaggeration and humor.
Cartoons allow me to capture emotions quickly and playfully. They also give me a space to express humor, which I believe is essential to life.
Through my cartoons, I create lighthearted moments and share them with friends through my blog, hoping to bring smiles and a sense of shared joy.
Abstract Drawing: Freedom Without Rules
Abstract drawing offers an entirely different kind of freedom. It does not aim to represent reality—it expresses emotion.
Abstract art gives me permission to create without expectations or pressure. There are no mistakes, only exploration.
Some days, my abstract drawings are bold and energetic; other days, they are soft and reflective.
Colors, lines, and shapes become my emotional vocabulary. When words fall short, abstract drawing helps me understand what I am feeling and who I am becoming.
Combining Styles, Understanding Myself
Though cartoon drawing and abstract drawing appear very different, combining them has helped me develop a personal artistic voice.
Together, they allow me to explore humor and emotion, structure and freedom, observation and intuition.
So, how am I creative? I am creative in my curiosity, in my willingness to experiment, and in my courage to begin—no matter my age or background.
Creativity, I have learned, is not about perfection or labels. It is about presence, expression, and joy.
My Final Submission
Dear friends, creativity does not belong to a chosen few. It lives quietly within all of us, waiting to be noticed and nurtured.
Whether through art, words, ideas, or everyday actions, creativity helps us understand ourselves and connect with others.
So I invite you—pause for a moment and ask yourself: How are you creative? You may be surprised by the beauty of the answer.
Until next time, stay curious, stay gentle with yourself, and keep creating
A Journey of Colors, Curiosity, and Self-Discovery
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I think it’s cool that we have smart tv’s these days. The ones with the built-in Netflix, Crave, YouTube etc. You used to need a separate box to have access to those streaming services.
I don’t have any fancy appliances. My fridge is just a fridge, the toaster does not have a screen on it, I can’t watch tv on the dishwasher and my oven is not Siri capable.
In my car, more so than the media gadgets, I appreciate the heated steering wheel and heated seats.
I’m happy that I ducked in here to write, now back to my baking. Bella-Lena and I got quite a bit of decorating accomplished yesterday. It takes forever when you’re actually making the decorations first, before you can begin hanging them up.
This poem reflects the quiet strength of self-connection. It celebrates solitude not as absence, but as presence—where wholeness, safety, and belonging are found within. A gentle declaration of self-worth, independence, and inner peace.
I am not alone
I am not alone— I am with myself.
I sit in the quiet, and the quiet speaks back. It tells me I am whole, not missing, not lacking.
I build walls no fear can break, not to keep love out— but to keep my soul safe.
I don’t wait to be chosen. I don’t beg to be seen. I meet myself fully in the in-between.
So let the world rush, let the noise echo— being alone is an art.
I carry that power inside of me. I am grounded. I am strong. I belong.
You never realise how valuable a body part is until you can’t use it. Injuring my big toe has been rough, walking feels like a chore right now. I can’t wait to enjoy the simple pleasure of moving freely again .
Last Sunday, while my husband and I were browsing Christmas decorations, we ended up buying a few pieces from a street vendor couple. We didn’t know they were differently abled – mute, actually – until it was time to make the payment. They were young, able-bodied in every visible way, and their only “shortcoming,” if one can even call it that, was their inability to speak.
Those few seconds of interaction stayed with me.
I wondered how many people like them are out there, quietly struggling to make an honest living – not begging, not resorting to anything unlawful, not simply depending on family or others. Just trying to earn with dignity.
That brief encounter sparked a conversation later. I found myself wondering aloud why the government doesn’t take more initiative to create dedicated shopping zones for the differently abled, instead of forcing them to hawk their livelihood on the streets. If they’re selling Christmas décor, it’s seasonal. Soon, they’ll have to sell something else. That lack of stability itself is exhausting. There’s no certainty, no security – just constant adjustment.
What struck me most was this; if we hadn’t stopped to buy from them, we would never have known they were mute. Hundreds of people walk past them every day. And because they’re street vendors, they’re often invisible – people choosing shops instead. I understand concerns about quality or variety, but small vendors are still trying to make an honest living.
I truly believe that if there were designated spaces for the differently abled to sell their wares – seasonal or otherwise, year-round – it could lead to genuine empowerment, upliftment, and independence. It would offer not just opportunity, but stability and dignity.
And as a society, we have a role to play too. When we choose to buy from them, we’re doing more than making a purchase. We’re saying: You are seen, you are valued, your work matters. We’re affirming that they are not a burden, not lesser, not unequal, just different in ways that don’t diminish their worth.
We often expect the government to take responsibility for everything, and rightly so in many cases. But we also have a responsibility towards one another. Change doesn’t only come from policy – it comes from everyday choices.
Many differently abled individuals are learning skills so they can fend for themselves. What they sell is often the result of training, effort, and resilience. By supporting them, we encourage growth, confidence, and self-reliance.
There’s a lot of talk today about diversity and inclusion. It’s encouraging to see some corporations taking steps in that direction. But beyond boardrooms and campaigns, what are we doing as a society?
We still have a long way to go before our mindset truly shifts – before inclusion becomes instinctive rather than performative. Too often, we see the differently abled as different from us. But if we pause and flip the lens, what must they think when they look at us? To them, we are different too. Difference, after all, is relative.
Maybe change begins when empathy moves from thought to action – quietly, imperfectly, one interaction at a time.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and adventurous mood! Today, I stumbled upon a writing prompt that instantly made me grin: “List your top 5 grocery store items.”
At first, it sounds like a cute little question. But if you’ve ever wandered into a grocery store with a basket and a dream, you know this is no small topic.
Grocery shopping is secretly an epic adventure. The aisles are like treasure maps, the products are hidden gems, and your shopping cart? Your trusty steed.
So buckle up, because I’m taking you on a journey through my top five grocery store must-haves—sprinkled with humor, storytelling, and a dash of self-confession.
1. Fresh Fruits – Nature’s Candy
My first stop, always, is the fruit aisle. As a health-conscious person, this feels like the candy section where calories magically don’t count and Mother Nature is the mastermind behind every sweet bite.
Apples, bananas, berries—you name it—they all demand attention like colorful celebrities walking a red carpet.
Why do fruits top my list? Because they deliver little bursts of happiness. A strawberry isn’t just a strawberry; it’s a portable mood lifter. Isn’t it?
And honestly, who can resist tossing a handful of grapes into their mouth while dodging other shoppers?
Fruits are healthy, convenient, and make you look like you’re someone who has their life together—even if your secret best friends are chocolate and chips.
2. Fresh Vegetables – The Unsung Heroes
My next stop is the vegetable kingdom. As the elder at home, it’s usually my duty to visit this counter—and over time, I’ve grown genuinely fond of it.
Carrots, broccoli, spinach, and the occasional mysterious squash line up like hardworking heroes waiting to be chosen.
Vegetables may not scream “fun” like chocolate does, but they quietly make your life better. They’re colorful, versatile, and absolutely essential when you want to pretend you cooked something gourmet.
Honestly, nothing feels more adult than saying, “I had mixed vegetables for lunch,” even if your version of mixed vegetables is a simple bowl of carrot, potato, and greengram—which I truly love.
And let’s admit it: wandering through the veggie aisle gives you that smug, virtuous vibe, like you’re a health guru—even if your pizza delivery app still knows your darkest cravings.
3. Whole Grains and Cereals – The Pantry MVPs
Third on my list are whole grains. Oatmeal, quinoa, brown rice—these are the trusty sidekicks in our culinary adventures.
You may not appreciate them until you actually need them, but when you do, they swoop in like heroes saving the day (or at least saving dinner).
Whole grains provide steady energy, fiber, and that quiet feeling of being a responsible adult.
Add some oats to a smoothie, whip up a comforting bowl of porridge, or pair brown rice with hearty favorites like matar paneer.
And let’s be honest: nothing says “I’ve got my life together” like a neatly stocked pantry full of grains ready to defeat your midnight cereal cravings.
4. Dairy or Plant-Based Alternatives – The Comfort Brigade
And now, welcome to the dairy aisle—also known as the comfort brigade. Milk, yogurt, cheese, or plant-based substitutes: these items are superheroes disguised as everyday essentials.
I especially love yogurt for breakfast. A spoonful of yogurt with honey can transform a gloomy morning into something blissful. And cheese on a sandwich?Pure sorcery.
And of course, let’s not forget milk for coffee; without it, mornings should probably be illegal.
Dairy products add richness, flavor, and a touch of luxury to life—basically, edible happiness.
5. Coffee or Tea – The Elixir of Life
Finally, the crown jewel: coffee or tea. I personally prefer coffee, and to me, it’s not just a beverage—it’s a lifestyle, a ritual, sometimes even a lifesaver.
Walking past the coffee section feels like entering a caffeinated wonderland. Beans, powders, pods… each one promises a tiny spark of joy.
Coffee fuels creativity, steadies the mood, and makes the world feel less chaotic.
Choosing coffee isn’t just shopping—it’s announcing to the universe: I am ready to face the day, preferably while holding a warm mug.
A Grocery Store Adventure
So there you have it: my top five grocery store items, each with its own flair, personality, and purpose.
Grocery shopping isn’t just a task—it’s a microcosm of life itself. Fruits bring joy, vegetables bring responsibility, grains bring preparation, dairy brings comfort, and coffee brings energy for the journey.
Next time you stroll through your local store, don’t rush. Pretend each aisle is a level in a video game and each item is a prize waiting to be claimed.
Ask yourself: What makes me happy? What nourishes me? Which simple item makes my daily routine smoother or brighter?
You might be surprised by what you discover.
In the end, grocery shopping is more than just filling a cart—it’s a reflection of what we value, what delights us, and what keeps us going.
And now, dear friends, I challenge you: What are your top five grocery items? Pick wisely—you might uncover a little story about yourself along the way.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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This is a heartfelt poem about the importance of perseverance, patience, and faith. It shows how nurturing our dreams, even in tough times, can lead to growth and fulfillment. The poem reminds us that hope is never lost; it always guides us toward light and possibility.
Harvest of Hope
Seeds of dreams we plant each day, In hearts where sunlight loves to stay. Through storms and winds, through rain and drought, We nurture them, though filled with doubt.
Tiny buds of courage grow, Even when the nights are low. Hands that toil and hearts that yearn, Wait for the season, wait their turn.
And when sun shines warm and bright, The fields awake in golden light. Fruits of patience, joy, and cheer, Bloom for all who stayed sincere.
For hope once sown, cannot decay, It lights the night, it leads the way. From tender dreams to mighty scope, Life yields at last its harvest of hope.
Last week, I had a strange dream. I dreamt that clumps of my hair were falling off. I’d barely touch my head and my palms would be covered. I don’t usually remember my dreams, but this one stayed with me – perhaps because it was unusual, and because I don’t recall ever dreaming anything like it before.
With all this talk about AI going around, I thought, why not ask AI too and see what it comes up with?
The insight was surprisingly fascinating.
It suggested that this kind of dream is common during periods of quiet stress. Hmm. It spoke of a sense of loss of control, vulnerability or exposure, change or transition, and exhaustion – times when life feels uncertain, overwhelming, and beyond our control. Hair, it said, is both protection and adornment; losing it can reflect feeling emotionally bare, seen without armour. It also mentioned a quiet shift taking place which is not necessarily a bad one.
What struck me most was this: the dream wasn’t about danger or prophecy. It was my inner world quietly rearranging things. It even offered questions to ask myself – and, amusingly, suggested if I wanted a poem .
Traditionally, though, knowledge passed down through stories and folk tales often framed dreams – especially unpleasant ones – as warnings. Signs that something bad was coming, or even indicators of illness. Dreams were treated as predictions. Modern science and psychology, however, understand dreams differently, as • emotional processing • symbolic storytelling by the subconscious • markers of stress and transition
Dreams are symbolic. They speak to us. They are our minds processing. Perhaps they are asking us to gently listen – to remember to hold space for ourselves, not only for others. To be self-aware, and to nurture and care for our own well-being too.
I’ve always marvelled at the human mind and how it functions. It’s intricate, that’s a better description than interesting. How a word, a song, a picture, a smell, or a place can suddenly bring back memories we didn’t even know we were holding. How something random can trigger a song, and often that song connects uncannily to our emotional or mental state. I’ve found myself humming tunes I wasn’t consciously thinking about, only to realise I’m singing away in my head.
I doubt we’ll ever fully understand the mind. But perhaps we should not look at dreams as something to be decoded, but simply noticed. Dreams aren’t meant to predict our futures; they are reflections of what is. And maybe dreams are a whisper from within – unfinished conversations, asking us to pay attention. A reminder that the mind, in all its mystery, finds ways to speak to us when we’re too busy to pause and rest.
I hope this blog finds you well. Today’s writing prompt is an interesting question: Are you a good judge of character? The journey is intriguing, so stay with me.
It happened at a family gathering one summer evening. I remember meeting a man who seemed instantly likable—confident handshake, bright smile, lively conversation. “What a genuinely good soul,” I thought.
Months later, the same man’s actions told another story altogether—small betrayals, broken promises, excuses that didn’t align with his earlier charm.
That experience left me wondering: was my intuition wrong, or had I simply been too eager to believe in appearances?
Moments like these make us pause and ask one of life’s most intriguing questions: Am I really a good judge of character?
We make judgments every day, sometimes within seconds of meeting someone.
Yet what we decide in those moments can ripple deeply through our lives—building trust, shaping friendships, or steering us into disappointment.
The Ancient Instinct Behind Modern Decisions
Our ability to judge character is an ancient survival tool. Long before resumes and social media profiles, early humans had to assess at a glance who could be trusted. Reading faces, tones, and gestures wasn’t curiosity—it was protection.
In today’s world, the dangers are different, but the need remains. At work, in relationships, in communities—we all try to gauge others’ integrity.
But while our instincts still whisper their judgments, modern life demands a more thoughtful lens.
When Intuition Deceives
Most of us have faith in our gut feelings. Intuition often feels like an invisible compass guiding us toward or away from someone.
It’s built from years of experience, subconscious observations, and even emotional memory. But intuition, powerful as it is, can be deceptive.
It’s shaped by our past—our upbringing, culture, and biases—all of which can cloud our judgment.
Sometimes our instinct is truly insightful. Other times, it’s bias wearing the disguise of confidence.
A wise judge of character learns to respect intuition, yet cross-check it with observation and patience.
The Fragility of First Impressions
Science suggests we form first impressions in less than seven seconds. In those heartbeats, we decide who seems trustworthy, competent, or kind—all based on surface cues: a smile, posture, attire, tone. But appearances can lie.
The quiet one might be thoughtful, not cold; the witty one might be charming yet unreliable.
True character takes time to reveal itself. It lives in patterns of consistency—how someone speaks about others, how they handle power, and how they behave when no one is watching.
Seeing Beyond a Single Moment
We often define people by isolated actions. But context matters. A bad day doesn’t make a bad person, just as one kind gesture doesn’t prove virtue.
Circumstances draw out different sides of us all; what matters is how someone strives to make amends, learns, or grow.
Good judgment is therefore less about being right every time and more about recognizing change—the ability to see people not as fixed portraits but as evolving stories.
The Inner Mirror of Self-Awareness
Good judges of character share one secret trait: they know themselves. Before reading others, they examine their own biases and patterns.
Do we distrust certain personalities because they mirror traits we dislike in ourselves? Are we lenient toward those who share our background or beliefs?
Only through self-awareness can we filter perception from projection. Judging character begins not with assessing others, but with observing the lens through which we see.
Listening as a Window to Character
Listening—truly listening—is perhaps the purest form of judgment. Pay attention not only to what people say, but how they say it.
Do they speak with respect, empathy, and curiosity? Do their actions echo their promises?
Integrity is found in the rhythm between words and deeds. A person who is kind when the world watches is polite; one who is kind when no one does, is good.
Lessons from Experience
Over the years, both joy and betrayal refine our ability to judge character. Trusted friends teach us warmth; deceivers teach us caution. Each encounter sharpens discernment, provided we don’t let pain turn into cynicism.
The art lies in balance—keeping our hearts open, but our eyes discerning. People can surprise us, both for better and worse, and that unpredictability is part of life’s texture.
So, Are You a Good Judge of Character?
The truth is both humbling and hopeful: sometimes we are, sometimes we aren’t. Our perceptions, though flawed, grow wiser each time we reflect.
Judging character well is not about perfection—it’s about patience, empathy, and humility.
To judge character deeply is not to categorize, but to understand. When we trade assumption for curiosity, we see people more clearly—and in doing so, understand ourselves better too.
Perhaps then, the best judge of character isn’t the one who’s never misled, but the one who keeps learning, forgiving, and discerning with grace.
In the end, that openness—the willingness to keep evolving—may be the surest sign of good character of all.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Life has gotten busy, because of holiday things, and I’ve not been keeping up with daily writing. I’ve also gotten behind on reading others’ posts.
I can’t use work as an excuse because I’ve been working from home all week and will for most of this month and January. I just seem to have gotten out of my routine.
I’ve been decorating for Christmas here and there. I’m going for the kitschy Christmas look this year so that involves buying but also making new Christmas decorations. Which I absolutely love doing.
Bella-Lena will be home from Uni today and I’m so excited. Taz will be home from Australia for the holidays later this week.
And we have Sid’s first ever school Christmas concert Wednesday evening which I can’t even describe how excited I am to go and see. I believe his little Kindergarten class are singing a song.
I don’t like to get out of my routine so I need to get back into faithfully reading all of your posts each morning with my coffee and then writing immediately after.
They tend to stick around longer and follow you if you’re skimpy with the peanuts.
Please, sir. I’d like some more.
They did fly around me, but not in an impressive manner, given the lower numbers.
Some interesting and pretty things along our route.
The flowers aren’t quite done yet.
To absent friends…
The crows have competition. Not very effective, but competition nonetheless.
The morning coffee ritual. Disrupted shortly after this photo when Doggo knocked over the tree and made an unholy mess of water, broken glass, and scattered ornaments.
That I can draw… I can’t draw to save my life. But I’ve made an art of falling and am the queen of clumsy. I fell again today, just before Christmas, repeat of last year . Either Christmas is telling me don’t get too excited or my legs are truly not meant to ever wear heels (I wasn’t wearing heels either) .
Sundays are art days. Showing off little girl’s art once again.
This is an uplifting poem about resilience and courage in pursuing dreams. It celebrates the human spirit that doesn’t give up, finding strength in struggles and overcoming darkness.
Each line aims to inspire action, motivate hope, and remind us that we have the power to rise and claim our light despite obstacles.
# Chase the Light #
Step by step, the road is alive, Through storm and sun, we fight, we strive. Mountains high and rivers wide, Yet we push on with fearless stride.
Wind in hair, fire in chest, Every challenge puts us to the test. Shadows come, but hearts ignite, Turning darkest hour into light.
Dreams take flight on wings of flame, Nothing’s ever really the same. Through loss, through joy, through every fight, We rise, we roar, we chase the light.
Eyes ahead, the past behind, Courage grows in every mind. Life’s a dance, a daring flight— Lift your wings, claim the light.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and spacious head-space, the kind where thoughts can stretch their legs and wander a bit.
Today’s writing prompt stopped me in my tracks—not because it’s complicated, but because it’s so deceptively simple:
“When are you most happy?”
At first glance, it feels like one of those ice-breaker questions we’ve all heard a hundred times. But the more you sit with it, the more it becomes a mirror.
It’s one thing to say what makes you happy; it’s another to notice when happiness actually shows up in your life, uninvited and genuine.
So let’s explore it—slowly, honestly, and with a little curiosity.
Happiness Isn’t a Destination—It’s a Signal
We often treat happiness like a place we someday “arrive” at once the puzzle pieces of life finally click into place: the right job, the right relationships, the right accomplishments.
But in truth, happiness behaves more like a signal—fleeting, recurring, sometimes surprising. It pops up not only during grand achievements but in small, easy-to-miss moments that quietly reveal what matters to us.
Asking “When am I most happy?” isn’t about listing things you enjoy; it’s about noticing the conditions under which your inner self feels safe enough to exhale.
I’m Most Happy When I’m Connected—Not Just Present
For many people, happiness blooms in moments of connection. This doesn’t necessarily mean being surrounded by crowds or hosting lively dinner parties. It can be as subtle as:
a deep, meandering conversation with someone who “gets” you
working side-by-side with a friend, each in your own focused bubble
sending a message that lands at exactly the right moment for someone you care about
Connection isn’t measured by the number of people in the room but by the quality of presence shared.
We feel most alive when we are seen—and when we are able to see others clearly.
I’m Most Happy When Time Slows Down
Yes, there are also moments when happiness feels like a soft hush. Maybe you’ve felt it:
when you’re sipping a warm drink before the rest of the world wakes
When you’re absorbed in a task you love, losing track of minutes and hours
when you’re watching sunlight shifting quietly across your floor
These are tiny, almost invisible pockets of happiness. They’re not dramatic or Instagram-worthy, and maybe that’s exactly why they feel so good: they ask nothing from us. They happen because the mind is briefly allowed to rest in the present.
Time seems to stretch when we stop wrestling with it.
I’m Most Happy When I’m Creating Something—Anything
Happiness often emerges when we’re in the process of making things—whether that’s a piece of writing, a recipe, a garden bed, or even a plan for the future.
Creation taps into a deeply human instinct: the desire to shape the world, even in the smallest ways.
There’s a unique joy in watching something exist because you spent time with it.
And it doesn’t matter if it’s perfect; creation is about engagement, not outcome. In fact, some of the happiest people aren’t the ones who master a craft—they’re the ones who let themselves play.
I’m Most Happy When I Feel Like Myself
This may be the most revealing answer of all. Happiness tends to show up naturally when we’re aligned with who we are, not who we think we should be.
Think about those moments when you feel grounded, authentic, and unapologetically you:
speaking your mind without fear of judgment
wearing something that feels right, not trendy
doing something because it genuinely delights you, not because it’s expected
saying no—and discovering that the world didn’t fall apart
Happiness often exists on the other side of self-acceptance. When we drop the performance, happiness steps out from behind the curtain.
Happiness Is Also Found in Contrast
One of the paradoxes of happiness is that we notice it most clearly after moments of difficulty. Not because struggle is required to earn joy, but because contrast sharpens awareness. Is it not?
A warm meal tastes richer after a long day. A quiet evening is sweeter after chaos. A small victory feels monumental after a setback.
Happiness isn’t the denial of life’s challenges—it’s the glimmer that reminds us we’re still capable of experiencing light.
So, When Are You Most Happy?
This prompt is powerful not because it demands a polished answer, but because it invites reflection.
When you start paying attention to the moments that lift your spirit—even slightly—you begin to understand your own wiring.
You learn what nourishes you, what drains you, and what you want to bring more consciously into your life.
The question isn’t a test; it’s a compass.
Happiness isn’t a fixed state—it’s a clue pointing toward the life you’re meant to live.
And if you follow those clues, even a little, you might discover that happiness has been quietly waiting for you all along.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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We’ve really thrown off the bulk of the crows with our recent inconsistent schedule.
But not Big Daddy and Little Lady.
They’ve been around a lot longer than the rest of the crows, to the point they’ll chase others off if they get too close to the house.
And they know we’re inconsistent.
So just two crows this morning.
Why is the second one so far away, you jerk!?
Even putting my shadow between a crow and its peanut is dangerous…
I’m not following you, hoping for peanuts. I’m just hanging out randomly in these trees. It’s just a coincidence I move as you move and in the same direction. A coincidence…
Something verdant under the surface…
An Orphan Rake in the wild! You normally only see one this close-up at a zoo!
A rose by any other name still gets wet with morning dew.
Death and life, locked in a close-quarters battle for my attention…
Sometimes, even the weeds surprise me…
Who says we don’t have a colorful fall in [LOCATION REDACTED]?
Upon our return, the morning coffee ritual. All started this morning, no night before prep.
Making good coffee is a science. Messy science. Some lives may have been lost. Worth it!
Today feels like a slow day, though I’m not entirely sure it was. It’s already evening, another day about to end, and I can’t quite tell what I’ve done. Mostly, I think, I’ve just sat, stood, and walked .
It’s another week, and Christmas is almost here. I’m excited for it, and yet I don’t quite feel Christmassy. Why is that? Feelings are such finicky things, hard to trust .
Dad has been on my mind more these past few weeks. Once December arrived, he was all about cakes. He loved them and stocked up generously, so by Christmas we always had more than enough. And yet somehow, there were never leftovers, and the last one to reach the table only got crumbs. Talk about large families, we have our own kind of magic .
Christmas also means a little more socialising. From church, there’ll be kids’ parties, a barbecue night for the men, but nothing planned for the women . Me? I’m content. There are enough events to attend and enough people I need to smile at. I do wish the city felt more festive though. Year after year, the malls get more subdued – they seem to just string together a few lights. I envy other cities and states who go all out, while my homestate outdoes itself every single year.
But perspective matters. Christmas isn’t about the lights of the world, but the Light of the world. There would be no Easter without Christmas, and perhaps that is the reminder we all need.
Still, a few lights to liven up the city – and blur our eyes to the pollution wouldn’t be so bad eh .
This poem celebrates solitude as a sacred space of self-connection and inner power. It reflects the journey of finding wholeness, peace, and strength within oneself—where silence becomes a friend and self-love forms an unshakable fortress.
“A Castle Within”
I am not lost when I am alone, I am discovering a place my own. A quiet heart, a gentle sea, A castle built inside of me.
I talk with self, I laugh, I play, I find new colors in my gray. The silence hums a soothing song, A friend inside me, whole life long.
I sip the calm, I taste the air, I learn that love is always there. Not from another, but from within, A strength untouched by any wind.
So let the storm rage, let chaos spin, I’ve got my fortress, thick and thin. I’m whole. I’m strong. I’ll always be— Yes, I am my own. I am free.
What are your favorite physical activities or exercises?
Hello dear friends,
I hope this blog finds you cheerful, energized, and ready to welcome a fresh wave of inspiration. Today’s writing prompt is as refreshing as the first breeze of dawn: “What are your favorite physical activities or exercises?”
At first glance, this may seem like a simple question — a casual curiosity about how we stay fit.
But hidden within it is something deeper: a reminder of how we reconnect with ourselves, how we nurture our bodies, and how we keep our spirits awake in a world overflowing with noise and responsibility.
The physical activities we choose are rarely just “exercise.” They are rituals. Expressions of self-care. Anchors that keep us balanced when life begins to feel overwhelming.
Let me take you on a journey through the activities that bring joy, calm, and creativity into my life — swimming, table tennis, morning walks, yoga, and meditation.
Together, they form a melody of well-being that keeps me grounded and uplifted.
Morning Walks: A Gentle Companion Through Every Season
Walking is perhaps the simplest form of movement, yet it carries profound magic. There is something deeply comforting about stepping outside early in the morning, when the world is still half-asleep.
The air is cool and cleansing, the sunlight soft and hopeful, and each footstep feels like a whispered promise of new beginnings.
Many writers, thinkers, and creators swear by walking as their best brainstorming tool — and I am no exception.
As I walk, my thoughts reorganize themselves. Ideas flow more freely. Worries loosen their grip. Walking becomes a meditation in motion, an invitation to clarity.
It is not merely exercise; it is therapy.
And each morning walk is a quiet reminder that the day is full of possibility.
Swimming: Diving Into Serenity and Strength
Swimming holds a special place in my heart. There is a unique enchantment in the embrace of water — its coolness, its rhythm, its quiet strength. The gentle resistance of the water becomes a metaphor for life’s challenges: you push, you glide, and you keep moving forward.
With each stroke, the mind empties and the body awakens. The world above the surface fades, replaced by an almost sacred silence beneath the water.
Swimming is both a full-body workout and a journey inward. It is a meditative dance between breath, motion, and the fluidity of spirit.
Few activities offer this rare balance of serenity and strength.
Table Tennis: A Ballet of Quick Reflexes
If swimming is meditation, then table tennis is pure exhilaration. The quick back-and-forth rallies, the swift reflexes, the rhythm of the ball tapping against the table — it all comes together like a delightful ballet of agility and focus.
It sharpens the mind, energizes the body, and fills the space with playful competition. Whether played casually or competitively, the joy lies not only in winning a point but in the thrill of movement, precision, and anticipation.
It reminds me that exercise can be joyful, spontaneous, and wonderfully unpredictable.
Yoga: The Dance of Body, Breath, and Awareness
Yoga is where movement meets mindfulness. In a world that glorifies speed, yoga teaches slowness. Patience. Presence.
The asanas — graceful postures flowing one into another — form a choreography of balance and strength. Each stretch invites awareness; each breath becomes a moment of grounding.
Yoga transcends physical fitness. It becomes a sanctuary — a place to rediscover gentleness, release tension, and listen to the quiet wisdom within.
For me, yoga is not about mastering difficult poses. It is about connecting with myself — calmly, consciously, lovingly.
Meditation: Stillness Amid Chaos
After the movement comes stillness.
Meditation is the art of sitting with oneself — of entering a space where all external noise begins to fade. It sharpens focus, softens emotional stress, and nurtures resilience.
In a fast-paced world, meditation is my pause button. A moment to breathe deeply, reset, and return to life with clarity.
It teaches me that stillness is not emptiness; it is nourishment.
The Symphony of Movement
In the grand symphony of physical activities, each choice is a note. Together, they compose a melody that echoes through the corridors of daily life:
Walking clears the mind.
Swimming strengthens the spirit.
Table tennis energizes the body.
Yoga balances the self.
Meditation restores the soul.
These are not just exercises; they are expressions of joy, vitality, and self-discovery.
Our bodies are not mere vessels — they are canvases for experience and emotion. The ways we choose to move do more than keep us fit; they help us find balance, purpose, and peace.
So, dear friends, let us celebrate not just movement, but the meaning behind it. Let us embrace the activities that help us feel alive, connected, and whole.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I’d hate to be known as alligator arms. You know, arms that are too short to reach for my wallet and pay my fair share.
My ex-husband used to be accused of this and teased about this by his friends and I laughed, but seriously, how embarrassing.
Whenever I’m chipping in with someone or a group of people to pay for something, I go the extra mile to pay my fair share. I’d never expect anyone to pick up my tab.
Don’t mind me, just hiding my grey roots that I desperately need to dye lol
The weather has been oddly kind lately, chilly mornings, bearable afternoons, but it’s also leaving everyone with a cold that refuses to leave once it arrives. Yesterday, when my little girl came home, she complained of a headache, and not long after, she was running a fever. She has a birthday party on Sunday, so for once, she’s more than willing to take her medication. On any other day, we get more drama than we want.
This morning, the parents’ school group was flooded with messages of a 14-year-old boy who has been missing since yesterday. And as always with WhatsApp, along with the concern comes confusion, conflicting information, new “updates” every few minutes and half-truths that turn into panic for some.
Then a friend shared an article about the alarming rise in missing children in the city over the past few weeks, especially girls. It makes me wonder what changed, or has this always been happening, just quietly and unreported? Some days I feel we can’t even trust the people we think we know.
A friend once mentioned that she no longer insists her children call acquaintances “uncle” or “aunt” as is normally done. These are people they meet once in a blue moon; calling them by familiar titles only blurs boundaries and creates a false sense of safety. I understood her reasoning. It makes the question even heavier, whom do we trust with our children? And more difficult still – how do we teach our children trust? Whom to trust and not trust?
Perhaps trust was never simple to begin with. Maybe it felt easier because our worlds were smaller, our circles tighter, and our dangers fewer or unseen. Now, with the world changing, and everything coming to us louder than ever, trust feels fragile – something we hold carefully, like glass in our palms.
What has the world come to?
It makes me yearn for the simplicity of our own childhoods. I’m not pretending everything was perfect back then – harm existed, danger existed, but it felt like people were more trusting, and more importantly, we looked out for one another. There was a sense of community that wrapped around you like an extra layer of protection.
Sometimes I wonder if this is what people mean when they say all good things come to an end… Or maybe, just maybe, the world hasn’t lost its goodness, it’s only become harder to recognize.
This poem reflects a powerful inner pledge to reject racism, discrimination, and false appearances while embracing growth, learning, and the pursuit of genuine happiness.
It captures the strength of choosing light over negativity and celebrates the courage to stand firm against hate while nurturing one’s own joy and evolution.
# I am Zero at #
I am zero at tolerance for hearts that spread racism’s flame, zero for those who judge and divide, who turn love into a losing game.
I am zero for the ones who say gender decides a human’s worth, zero for voices that try to dim the light we carry from our birth.
I am zero at wearing masks, at smiles that hide a wounded soul, zero at playing empty roles that never make a spirit whole.
But I am not zero at learning new skills that lift me every day, not zero at chasing happiness and choosing hope along the way.
I am zero for hate and shadows— but never zero for finding my own ray.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and open to a little reflection. Today’s writing prompt is a fascinating one: “Tell us about your first day at something — school, work, as a parent, etc.”
Yes, First days hold a special kind of magic. They exist delicately between excitement and fear, brimming with possibilities while shadowed by the unknown.
These moments leave impressions that stay with us long after the day itself has passed.
The Magic and Madness of First Days
Every “first day” is like the opening chapter of our personal story. It marks a beginning—sometimes chosen, sometimes thrust upon us—and carries a story worth telling.
For many, the first day of school is iconic. The smell of new books, the crisp uniform, the nervous clutching of a parent’s hand, and the classroom that feels almost too big to belong to us.
All these images shape our early understanding of learning, friendship, and independence.
But the first days aren’t limited to childhood. Life offers new beginnings at every stage. One such pivotal moment in my life was the first day of my professional journey.
My First Day at Work — A Quiet Storm of Emotions
Embarking on a new job is like stepping into uncharted territory, where every moment becomes a canvas painted with excitement, uncertainty, and the unmistakable fragrance of fresh beginnings.
After completing my education, I received an offer letter from the Bank, posting me to a rural branch in the heart of Rajasthan.
The offer filled me with both happiness and apprehension. Leaving my home in Bihar and moving to the small village of Reodar felt like a huge challenge.
Yet, I was determined and set off toward the quiet countryside. Mixed emotions accompanied me as I boarded the train—excitement tempered by uncertainty.
Upon reaching Abu Road Station, I took a jeep to Reodar. The journey itself was enchanting, like stepping into a painting of Rajasthan’s rustic charm.
Vast green fields filled with fennel scented the air, and distant hills seemed to whisper stories of the land’s timeless rhythm.
A Warm Welcome in a New World
Arriving at the branch, I found the staff immersed in a spirited game of carrom. Their laughter paused only long enough to greet me warmly.
Being the new face in the rural branch made me the subject of gentle amusement, but the acceptance I felt was immediate. I dived into the world of rural banking—a world that had previously existed only in training manuals.
Rural finance presented unique challenges, yet the day unfolded beautifully, blending professional responsibilities with the warmth of a close-knit team.
The fields stretching endlessly beyond the windows and the measured pace of village life made every moment feel alive with learning.
The genuine hospitality of the community added another layer of richness to the experience.
When the Day Truly Began
The clock struck ten, signaling the start of my official duties. In a touching gesture, the staff suggested celebrating with a local sweet, marking my joining with a warmth that went far beyond professional courtesy.
That moment reminded me that work is not only about transactions and numbers—it’s about becoming part of a community and feeling its pulse.
As the day ended, I reflected on the blend of the unfamiliar and the comforting. Reodar, with its picturesque landscapes and sincere people, had become a setting for unexpected growth.
The challenges of adjusting to rural life were offset by its simplicity, creating memories I would cherish forever.
Retreating to Reflection
Evening arrived, casting a serene glow over the village. I retired to a modest guesthouse, a sanctuary of quiet reflection.
The soft glow of a lantern replaced electricity, and the faint scent of fennel lingered, reminding me of the day’s journey. I marveled at the unpredictability of life—how a place I initially viewed with hesitation could so warmly welcome me into its fold.
That first day in Reodar was more than the beginning of a job—it was a mosaic of professional growth, rural beauty, and human connection.
The hills, the laughter, and the spirit of the community became part of my own story, teaching me lessons that went far beyond banking.
Why First Days Matter
First days, no matter the context, teach us about courage, adaptability, and the human capacity to find belonging in new environments.
They push us out of comfort zones, encourage us to engage with unfamiliar landscapes, and remind us that growth often begins where uncertainty resides.
Whether stepping into a classroom, a new role, or an entirely different life, first days mark the starting points of stories that shape our hearts, minds, and lives.
As I fell asleep that night, I realized that every day in Reodar would bring new lessons and experiences.
But it all began with that one first day—a day of hope, challenge, and discovery that left an indelible mark on my journey.
So, friends, as you reflect on your own first days, remember that they are not merely beginnings—they are invitations to growth, understanding, and the endless stories life asks us to live.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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What are your favorite physical activities or exercises?
I exercise because I have to, not because I want to.
In my younger years, I was sporty and always on the move. Our dad, being a sportsperson, never stopped physical activities even after he stopped playing professionally. He inculcated in us the importance of exercise, something we didn’t fully appreciate back then. We had plenty of movement growing up outdoors. He even put up a bar so we could learn gymnastics and random tricks. My third brother and I used it a lot.
But then we grew up, finished school, and all physical activities quietly took a backseat – forever. And now, I’ve reached an age where exercise is no longer a lifestyle choice; it’s a necessity. I don’t do anything too rigorous because, I might just disappear . But seriously, my body has more than a few misalignments, so certain exercises could be more harmful than helpful.
I started taking my health more seriously after having gestational diabetes during my second pregnancy. A few years back, when we consulted a diabetic doctor, he mentioned that some bodies simply cannot take stress well. He didn’t medicate but recommended diet and exercise. The dietician we used was excellent, unlike others, she didn’t restrict us from eating anything but encouraged moderation. She gave us a food plan that has been genuinely useful.
Lately, I’ve been doing Kegel exercises because my stomach muscles are weak, which means bladder issues . Can you imagine the hassle of going out anywhere and having to first locate the nearest lavatory (such a fancy word for toilet)? I sound so old. Thankfully, some of my younger friends have the same problem, so I’m not that old after all . On a serious note, it appears my body cannot retain liquids. This year, I’ve noticed my body being more dry than usual, and now that it’s winter, the dryness seems to have exacerbated.
Where our family doctor only suggested walking, I’m trying to be a bit more proactive. My vitals are normal, but I’m not sure if anything else needs checking.
Exercising is not fun at all. I can hear my bones creaking. I’m nowhere near as flexible as I once was, but I do feel better afterward. I just need my body to be less stiff and not be as lazy, sometimes
This poem celebrates love in its purest, most enduring form. It speaks of a love that bends but never breaks, a flame that withstands time, distance, and life’s storms.
Tender and unpolished, it captures the eternal strength and quiet beauty of a heart devoted without end.
# Love Without End #
This is my love, tender and true, Bending with storms, yet breaking not. It shines in the dark, it whispers in you, A steady flame time cannot blot.
It does not fade when distance grows, Nor falter when seasons pass. It walks where the wild wind blows, Rooted deep like ancient grass.
If skies should fall, if stars descend, If all the world should cease to be, Still, my love will rise, will bend, Eternal, unchained, endlessly free.
So let the world in chaos spin, Let storms arise and darkness press. This love, unbroken from within, Blooms eternal, boundless, blessed.
A love that bends, yet never ends— Forever true, my heart extends.
I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful and curious mood, because today’s writing prompt opens a window to one of my favourite daydreams: “What cities do you want to visit?”
A simple question on the surface, yet it unfolds into a world of imagination, longing, memory, and inspiration. Cities, after all, are not just places—they are experiences waiting to be lived.
When we think of the cities we want to visit, we are actually revealing pieces of ourselves: our tastes, our curiosity, our dreams of who we want to be, and sometimes even the emotions we crave to feel. Every desired destination holds a story we wish to step into.
So instead of rushing to answer, I want to walk you through the cities that live in my heart like bookmarks of possibility.
1. Kyoto – Where Time Walks Slowly
Among all the cities in the world, Kyoto stands before me like a gentle breath from the past.
Whenever I see images of its golden temples resting beside still ponds, or narrow wooden streets lined with lanterns, I feel a strange sense of calm.
Kyoto is a city that whispers. It does not entertain tourists—it embraces them. Its beauty isn’t loud; it is graceful, like a tea ceremony where every gesture carries intention.
Why do I want to visit Kyoto? Because in a world rushing at full speed, Kyoto reminds us that slowness is not a weakness—it is an art. It is a place where you can hear your own thoughts again.
And maybe, somewhere between a quiet shrine and a falling cherry blossom, we may rediscover our inner balance.
2. Paris – A City That Lives in Its Own Light
There are cities that surprise you, and then there is Paris—a city that seems to dream about itself.
I have not yet visited Paris, but I have certainly dreamt it. The Seine glowing at twilight, cafés spilling onto cobblestone sidewalks, and the Eiffel Tower rising like an exclamation mark in a poem—Paris has lived in my imagination for years.
For me, Paris represents creativity. Artists, writers, lovers, and wanderers all walk the same streets, each chasing their own version of beauty.
I want to visit Paris not only to see its monuments but to feel its rhythm—to sit in a small café, sip something warm, and watch life unfold in slow motion.
Paris, in that sense, becomes not just a destination but a reminder: that beauty is not a luxury, but a way of living.
3. New York City – Where Everything Feels Possible
If Kyoto is a whisper and Paris is a verse, then New York City is a heartbeat—fast, bold, electric.
Some people dream of New York because of its skyscrapers; others because of its culture; for some, it is the relentless energy that pulls them in.
For me, New York represents possibility. It is the world’s most diverse conversation happening at once—people from everywhere, ideas from everywhere, stories walking the streets every second.
I want to visit New York not to chase its lights but its sense of courage. This city teaches something powerful: you can start anew at any moment.
You can reinvent yourself on a Tuesday morning. You can dream bigger than your fears.
Maybe that is the magic of New York—it gives you permission to expand.
4. Istanbul – Where Continents Meet and Stories Multiply
Istanbul sits on the map like a bridge between worlds—Europe on one side, Asia on the other. But to me, it is much more than geography.
It is a living museum of empires, faiths, markets, and memories woven together like a tapestry.
I dream of wandering through the Grand Bazaar, hearing merchants call out in melodious tones, or standing inside the Hagia Sophia where centuries of history echo in the air.
Istanbul is a city where you don’t just walk—you wander. You get lost, you discover, you taste, you listen.
It reminds us that identity is layered, complex, and beautiful. And perhaps that is why it calls to my heart.
5. Kuala Lumpur – The Dazzle of KL Tower
Among the cities I dream of, one real experience also shines brightly in my memory—the magnificent KL Tower in Kuala Lumpur.
After hearing so much about it, I was excited to see it, and it turned out to be even more spectacular than expected.
KL Tower is the seventh tallest communication tower in the world, standing proudly at 421 meters. It offers three main attractions: the Sky Deck, the Sky Box, and the Observation Deck.
From the Sky Deck, Kuala Lumpur spreads out like a glowing tapestry, especially at night. The city sparkles as if dressed in stars, giving the sensation that you are floating above a world painted in light.
The Sky Box—a transparent glass cube extending outward—offers a breathtaking 360° view. Standing inside it, I could see the Petronas Twin Towers shining brilliantly under the night sky. The sight was magical, almost unreal.
Standing there, soaking in the glittering skyline, I felt as if I had stepped into paradise. It was one of those moments when the heart whispers, “Every penny was worth it.”
Finally: …Why This Question Matters ?
So when someone asks, “What cities do you want to visit?”, they are not asking for a travel list. They are asking for a glimpse into your curiosity, your hopes, your sense of wonder.
The cities that call out to us say something quietly profound about who we are.
Each city I’ve shared today represents a different part of my inner world—tranquillity, creativity, possibility, history, and awe.
And maybe that is what makes this question so meaningful. It invites us to dream, to imagine, to expand our inner geography. (All pics courtesy:Google.com)
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Especially to those in the food service industry. Having worked as a server (back then we were called waitresses), I know exactly how it feels to have to deal with an irate customer. So in restaurants, I am perfectly cooperative and grateful.
Dealing with other customer service type people on the phone however, kind of unleashes a whole other side of me. Not that I would ever raise my voice or use foul language, but I’m certainly more demanding. Especially when I know I’m in the right and they’re in the wrong.
I have no qualms about refusing to accept their foolish scripts as explanations and being put through to a supervisor if need be.
That side of me has revealed itself with age. Sometimes you do have to stand up for your rights.
And I started the coffee ritual in the morning, not last night.
And fourteen crows.
All three mean this morning’s walk should have been a good one.
Except I overslept, realized I made a mistake at work while in the shower, started the coffee this morning because I forgot last night, my back hurts, Doggo kept stopping right in front of me or dragging behind, and the phone camera had not been cooperating, so I missed some shots I wanted.
Does a wrecked car look any better when photographed in color?
I don’t think so.
I’m told this is (was?) a ’56 Chevy. Anyone out there able to tell from this photo? f8, 1/125 sec
And just because I’ve been doing a comparison all along:
I mean, OK, you can tell where the rust is more clearly in the color photo, but is that really a good thing?
I don’t think color makes any difference here. You can make a case for a fully restored car with a pristine paint job, but here? Naw. If anything, B&W feels appropriate for a neglected old car like this.
Does this portion of the window help anyone identify the make and model of the car? f6.8, 1/125 sec
No color cell phone photo here – the cell phone uses a smaller aperture, leaving the cracks and the photographer in focus!
I will close this series with the last photo on the roll.
Which has nothing to do with cars.
Or broken windows.
Hiding in the shadows of the tall grass and watching hungrily, a semi-feral cat. f6.8, 1/60 sec
This poem expresses the gentle pain of a love remembered, still alive in the heart. It shows how moments fade, but feelings stay—how distance can’t erase the influence on our soul.
Through soft echoes, laughter, and unspoken words, the poem reminds us that some connections stay strong, even when time separates them.
# You’re Not Far Away#
A smile once hidden, soft and bright, Now dances gently in the dark night. Hands that reached but couldn’t stay Still whisper softly, “You’re not far away.”
Words left unspoken, dreams untold, Moments vanished, yet I hold. The wind brings echoes through the day, A quiet murmur, “You’re not far away.”
The laughter shared, the tears we knew, Paint the skies in tender hues. Though time has stolen some display, It softly hums, “You’re not far away.”
Shadows fade, and nights grow long, Yet memories linger, sweet and strong. Through every dawn, in every gray, Your voice reminds me, “You’re not far away.”
So I’ll smile through the passing years, Treasure the joy, embrace the tears. The time we lost can’t come again— Yet love still whispers, “You’re not far away.”
What is something others do that sparks your admiration?
People doing anything for attention and validation. I watch some of those videos and can’t help scratching my head. It makes me wonder how they’ll feel when they watch themselves a few years down the line. Will they be embarrassed… or think, I could’ve done something even more idiotic?
Moving on from the prompt to hopefully better things.
If someone says children don’t know how to manipulate, they clearly don’t have children. My little girl is so clever, she found a loophole around the no-gadgets rule by choosing “meaningful” content. So for the past few days, instead of her usual nonsensical content, she’s roped me in to watch Predators on Netflix.
Watching animal documentaries makes me feel things I don’t fully understand and ask questions where there are no answers. I get the food chain, but it hurts all the same. Then there are the young ones with their parents: you see a parent’s instinct to protect at all costs, and the little ones responding instantly to their mother’s call, wherever they are. They recognize her voice without hesitation. Then you see bonds forming, packs strengthening… or sometimes, one breaking away to become a lone ranger.
What I observe though, is the restraint and patience they show when they hunt. They may not have eaten for days, but when they spot prey, they wait. They study. They observe their surroundings and their target. Their stomachs may be empty, but they don’t pounce at the first sight of food.
So unlike humans.
I know animals have a lot to teach us… yet for all our intelligence, we understand so little – and we’re too busy making reels and being wild to learn anything.
In life, one person stands out—my mother. She represents love, resilience, and guidance. As I think about the prompt, “Describe a person who has positively impacted your life,” her influence comes to the forefront of my mind.
Mothers, often the unsung heroes in the background of our lives, possess a quiet yet extraordinary power: they shape destinies even in the face of hardship, scarcity, and adversity.
This blog is my humble homage to my mother—a woman of strength and wisdom whose impact continues to guide me beyond time and space.
Her Presence Beyond Life Itself
In the quiet recesses of my dreams, my mother often appears with an ethereal tenderness.
Though the world calls her “departed,” I have never felt her absence. Her warmth, her ideals, and her love continue to follow me like a soft shadow—unseen yet deeply felt.
Despite the physical distance between this world and the next, her influence remains unshaken.
I often find myself aligning my decisions with the echoes of her wisdom, feeling her hand steadying mine even now.
The Architect of a Home Born from Hardship
A remarkable gift mothers possess is the ability to create a home from almost nothing. My mother, faced with minimal education and the heavy burden of early widowhood, could easily have collapsed under the weight of circumstance.
But she did not.
She turned every challenge into a stepping stone, transforming scarcity into opportunity.
Her perseverance became the foundation upon which our family stood tall. Her resilience remains a testament to the extraordinary strength inherent in motherhood.
Wisdom That Walks With Me
As life unfolds in unpredictable ways, her voice—soft yet firm—continues to guide me.
Though she is not here in the physical world, her essence lives in my decisions, my strength, and even in the way I face adversity. I hold her name high like a lantern in life’s storms, a guiding light from the celestial heights.
Her courage inspires mine.
Her sacrifices fuel my own determination.
Who I am today is inseparable from the shape her hands gave my character.
A Tribute in Verse
Because sometimes poetry conveys what the heart cannot say plainly. A mother’s love doesn’t end—it simply changes form. This is my heartfelt tribute to the woman who shaped my soul.
Oh, My Dear Mother
You visit me in dreams each night, Your gentle touch, a soothing light. On my chest, scars of battles fought, Yet your smile, a remedy, as peace is sought.
Painful marks etched upon my skin, I strive to erase, the battle to win. Your laughter and courage, a fleeting grace, In those moments, I find embrace.
Respect, fame—everything I gained, Still, solitude echoes, soft yet pained. Your absence, a constant silent ache, Yet your blessings, a refuge to take.
Sometimes life withholds its glee, Laughter and play seem far from me. But with your blessing, I resurrect, My hopes rekindled, my spirit erect.
A shadow of loneliness clouds my way, Yet with your blessing, I face each day. For in your wisdom, life finds its song, Oh, my mother, in dreams you belong.
So, in these verses, a tribute I pay, To a mother who guides me far away. With every word, a prayer I say— Oh, my dear mother, in dreams you stay. (Vijay Verma)
An Eternal Bond
This journey through memory and verse is more than a reflection—it is a testament to a love that cannot be dimmed by time or distance.
My mother was not just a parent; she was my compass, my guide, and the source of my resilience.
A hundred bows symbolize not a ritual, but a deeply felt gratitude—an acknowledgement of the eternal bond we share.
Her strength shaped my path.
Her love shaped my soul.
And her memory continues to shape my tomorrow.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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At the sake of every post being about how I grew up poor(ish), really the only item that stands out to me, are my Doc Martens.
I’ve written about it before, so here’s the Cliff notes on it: it was the mid to late 90’s, Doc Martens were cool, I wanted, couldn’t afford, so I got the (sort of) next best thing, the Sears brand Docs, they were fugly, cheap looking, kids in high school laughed at me, mean boys.
About 5 years ago I decided to avenge that humiliating moment in computer class and purchase an actual pair of Docs.
As it goes in life, the Docs didn’t really live up to the hype. I like them yes, but I think possibly I bought them a size or half size too big. I feel like my feet look like monstrosities in them. I wear a size 9 as it is, which is pretty big.
It’s funny how you think you want something so bad and then you get it and…
My real Docs, why didn’t they make me feel like I had the world?!
I feel like most of the garden shots I took were a waste. Partly because I shot in B&W, and partly because I think I did a lousy job of framing the compositions.
My takeaway from the previously presented images is that I would have been better off focusing on macro shots.
Let’s see if I was right.
f6.8, 1/250 sec
Maybe color would be more of a factor if that ladybug had been bright, bright red. But it wasn’t. If anything, my only complaint is I didn’t try to zoom in more. In my defence, that 100mm lens is heavy and I was shooting hand-held. This was actually a problem more than once for me, where I couldn’t hold my hands steady because the camera is so damned heavy.
(It has nothing to do with me being a weakling wimp!)
f6.8, 1/250 sec
Color doesn’t make any difference here. I wish the focus was sharper in the B&W image, but I think that’s down to aperture. In my zeal to isolate the foreground dandelion, I opened up a shade too much. If I had known just how out of focus the background dandelion would be (you can’t even tell it’s there in the B&W image), I would have gotten closer to the subject. But in this case, I mistakenly believed both dandelions would be discernible, and so I kept them both in frame.
I have a shot where the more distant dandelion is in focus, but it really isn’t worth sharing. I should have gone all-in on one or the other, rather than trying to capture both.
I will admit, the yellow of the flower, where it isn’t oversaturated in the color image, is nice. But not necessary for a good photo. In fact, the B&W photo is much better. The body of the bee contrasts perfectly with the flower, whereas in the color image, you almost lose the bee. Maybe a lower saturation color shot wouldn’t do that, but I get the bee and its shadow in the B&W image. And the almost complete blackness of the background in the B&W image isolates the bee and the flower. The flower in the color image does not feel like it’s floating in space.
With these images, I think the lack of color at worst, does nothing to diminish the picture, and at best, improves it. I can sleep soundly at night knowing I shot these on black and white film.
Next time: Cars and broken glass. Usually not something you want to stumble across…
A gentle poem that reflects on the bittersweet feeling of remembered love—where a single touch and a brief moment create a haunting melody of longing in the heart.
# the threads of memory #
Words lost to the whispering winds, I searched for them in the quiet of my eyes. The hand that once held mine now rests only in the threads of memory.
A moment passed—never to return— yet its warmth still burns softly in my heart. I’ve learned to speak love through silence, and to smile even when something inside breaks.
In every hush, I feel their shadow; in every smile, their presence breathes. In every heartbeat, their quiet remains. in every breath, their name still lingers.
A touch of warmth, a distance of a moment, and a fate that spans a lifetime— Perhaps this is the story of my love.
I’ve been feeling lethargic the past few days. Just the body, not the mind. The mind works overtime. In fact, it’s been popping up with ideas to write about, which makes me go oooh, should I? Better not… Because imagine the chaos if we all gave voice to our thoughts.
That is such a double-edged sword. We can’t always speak our minds, but we’re also expected not to internalize our thoughts and emotions. It’s a damn if you do and damn if you don’t situation.
So here I am, writing about nothing because it’s safe and shouldn’t ruffle anyone’s feathers. Not that I’ve run out of ideas, but because the ideas I do have could earn me more than a few raised eyebrows, and maybe even the wrath of the gods.
Anyways, wrath or not, those who know me know I don’t shy away from speaking a few of my thoughts. Unfortunately, lethargy wins. Both little girl and I are trying to steam this cold out. She’s got it worse. It keeps circulating between us, and the construction outside is making it worse.
My friends shared a video about board exams and grades. Our kids will be appearing for the 10th or 12th. It seems children are now beginning to realize that grades don’t make much of a difference when everything hinges on an entrance exam (hopefully their parents realize it too ). The education system is a perennial sore point for me. Maybe I’ll rant about it again… as if I’ve not ranted enough.
Is it my imagination, or are Christmas trees getting heavier and heavier these days?
Maybe I’m just getting old, but it seems like moving an Xmas tree from your backyard into your house should not result in a back sprain.
My sisters celebrated a holiday yesterday, so we had more time together. My youngest sister wanted to bathe our dogs in the river, and we decided to bring our laundry there. It is very rare we do like this. We always wash our clothes in our pump well. But yesterday, we did a little twist, and it was a way of bonding for us.
Since my eldest sister loves to pasture her goats there, I also brought them there since she’s still doing her thing.
We arrived at the river when the sun was just rising, and it was beautiful weather. My niece quickly swam, and my youngest sister was walking after Blacky to capture him, but he was running and running. My sister failed to bathe him; hence, after we do our laundry, we enjoy the river, and we had the best laugh for that day. I feel like my inner child was activated yesterday when my youngest sister, niece, and I jumped together while my third eldest sister took a video of us. My heart was full of joy. See, the joy comes from simple things, and sometimes, it doesn’t involve money or travel. It can happen in our own tiny space.
Thank you so much for reading and watching, my amazing readers.
It is the fourth day of the charitable painting raffle. Jam and I talked about it lately, deciding to have a few changes, and I think it’s a lovely surprise for us all.
Happy Tuesday, and stay blessed, my amazing readers!
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt resonates deeply with many of us: Is your life today what you pictured a year ago?
It’s a simple question on the surface, yet it carries profound weight. It nudges us to pause, reflect, and truly examine how far we’ve come—emotionally, creatively, spiritually, and personally.
A year ago, like most people, I had dreams, goals, and visions of who I hoped to become. Some were clear and ambitious; others were gentle whispers of hope.
As I look back today, I’m amazed at how life unfolded—sometimes according to plan, sometimes in beautifully unexpected ways, and sometimes with lessons wrapped in challenges. Let me walk you through my reflections.
Dreaming of the Future
Last year, I imagined a life brimming with creativity, connection, and purpose.
I wanted to expand my writing, dive deeper into painting, and embed healthier routines into my daily life. I set ambitious yet meaningful goals:
Publish 1,500 blogs
Complete 51 artistic projects
Spend more intentional time with family
Maintain better health and balance
Most importantly, I pictured myself enjoying precious moments with my granddaughter—memories that would warm my heart for years to come.
These goals were not unrealistic, but they required consistency, discipline, and resilience. So how did the year unfold?
The Reality Check
As we all know, life’s journey is anything but linear. Looking back, I realize my year blossomed in ways I imagined—and in many ways I never could have predicted.
My Creative Pursuits
My creative journey this year has been nothing short of extraordinary.
I published 1,006 blogs, covering everything from self-growth to health to happiness.
While I didn’t reach my 1,500-blog target, each piece I wrote connected me with readers and strengthened my voice as a writer.
Writing became my sanctuary—my daily ritual of calm, clarity, and expression.
My painting journey flourished too. I created 31 abstract pieces this month alone, pouring colors, emotions, and imagination onto the canvas. Although I didn’t complete all 51 planned projects, the creative process enriched me far more than the numbers ever could.
And perhaps the most thrilling highlight—two of my books, Meri Kalam Se and Adhuri Prem Kahani, were published and are now available on Amazon. Holding my work in book form felt like a dream materialized.
Health and Wellness
My health journey had its triumphs and hurdles.
My decade-long thyroid condition continued to be a steady companion, demanding awareness and discipline.
Yet, I made progress—embracing regular exercise and even venturing into kayaking, an adventurous surprise I never saw coming.
Though I’m not exactly where I envisioned myself health-wise, I’m proud of the progress I did make. Small victories matter.
This is Family Time
Family remained at the heart of everything.
I cherished moments with my partner—like peaceful walks along the sea beach—and treasured laughter-filled memories with my granddaughter.
These simple, heartfelt experiences reminded me that joy often hides in the ordinary. These moments became the emotional anchor of my year.
Unexpected Surprises
Life sprinkled the year with surprises—spontaneous trips to Darjeeling and Gangtok, sudden inspirations, and soulful experiences that were never part of the plan.
These detours brought happiness, adventure, and new perspectives.
Lessons Learned
Reflecting on the past year, a few truths stand out:
1. Dreams Are Dynamic
Visions give us direction, but flexibility allows us to grow. Life’s detours are not distractions—they’re often the path itself.
2. Progress Over Perfection
Even if we fall short of our targets, progress—no matter how small—deserves celebration.
3. Gratitude Transforms Everything
Appreciating the present moment, the people in our lives, and the experiences—expected or unexpected—makes life far more meaningful.
The Illusion of Control
We often step into a new year with resolutions neatly written down—“be healthier,” “travel more,” “save better,” “be happier.” But life has its own rhythm. It rearranges our maps, redirects our paths, and sometimes redirects us.
And that’s okay.
The beauty lies in adapting, learning, and embracing what comes our way.
Growth happens quietly—through patience, boundaries, resilience, and new passions we never expected to discover.
Looking Ahead
So, is my life today what I pictured a year ago?
Partially, yes. But in many ways, it is richer, deeper, and more fulfilling because of the unexpected twists and turns.
I didn’t achieve everything I planned, but I achieved things I didn’t even know I needed.
As I step into the new year, I’m dreaming big again—but leaving space for life’s surprises. Because sometimes the unplanned chapters become our favorites.
Now, dear friends, I invite you to reflect:
Is your life today what you envisioned a year ago? Share your thoughts—let’s inspire each other to keep dreaming, growing, and embracing the beautiful unpredictability of life.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Part of me wants to say there’s no such thing as right person, wrong time. That if any part of it involves “wrong” anything, then it’s just plain wrong.
I kind of feel that if it were in fact the right person, they’d appear at the right time.
Then again I completely understand how someone who seems such a good match for you, can saunter into your life at a time when you’re unable to explore that relationship. It sucks.
Still, I feel like I’m leaning more towards the theory that the right person does in fact show up at the right time. That’s part of what makes them the right person.
I was on the road when I loaded this roll of Ilford Delta 400 into my Pentax K-1000.
I really wanted to stick with color in that moment, but the only other color roll I had was CineStill 800, and I was outdoors in the country shortly after lunch and that seemed like a waste.
What this boils down to is that I likely made a mistake. At least with the first few shots, which are all of plantlife.
Colorful plantlife.
I had hoped the contrasts would be enough to make up for the lack of color, and maybe they were, maybe they weren’t.
But these pictures, at least, make me wish I’d shot color instead.
Which is why I now have several rolls of color film with the camera as well as black and white.
Next time if I want color, I’ll have it!
First off, the obiligatory palm tree photo I always take at this location.
Two, in fact, since it was windy that day and these shots illustrate that.
A momentary lull in the wind. f9.5, 1/125 sec
And then the wind came. f9.5, 1/125 sec
As a contrast, here’s a color picture from my phone:
Honestly, it’s not the worst thing to have photographed in black and white, though a red or orange filter might have made the sky a little more interesting.
But the photos aren’t interesting to me. Then again, neither is the cell phone image. So maybe it’s more the subject than the emulsion?
Does this small addition make the photo more interesting?
I think this one is a little more interesting because of the vulture in the sky above it. I wanted to get the shot just as the vulture came out from behind the tree, but the camera wasn’t ready. And you can’t really tell it’s a vulture from this picture… f11, 1/125 sec
Honestly, I don’t think the lack of color here is the problem, because I’m pretty sure color wouldn’t have helped.
But these next pictures are where I really feel like I chose the wrong film.
f8, 1/125 secColor here does help
The film has excellent contrast, and the focus is sharp, but nothing pops. Whereas in the color image, the red stalks do pop.
f8, 1/125 sec
Here we not only lose a lot of the shadow detail with the film, but the peppers are not that distinctive. The depth of focus, even at f8, did not serve me well, making the background yellow peppers almost vanish from the shot. That might have been OK with color film, but here, the lack of color leads to a lack of pop. I will say this: I did manage to get more surface detail of the red pepper with the film – the cell phone picture is oversaturated and a lot of the detail gets lost.
I’m not sure what I was hopping for with this next image, but I don’t think I got it.
f5.6, 1/125 sec
I think the shallower depth of field in the photograph makes for a more interesting image, but that has nothing to do with the emulsion. And the texture and dark markings of the pomogranate pop just a bit more in black and white, but the lighter markings actually disappear. I’m left wondering what I hoped to do with this shot.
f13.5, 1/30 sec
And here’s me trying to be artsy. I think the lack of color makes no difference here, particularly since the subject is my shadow.
I think I have two key takeaways from these pictures:
Whenever possible, know in advance what I am going to shoot before loading the film. If I had known I was going to take a bunch of pictures in the garden when I was deciding between CineStill 800 and Delta 400, I would have selected the CineStill. More specifically, think about how much color, or a lack thereof, will impact a picture. It’s funny, because at one point I was shooting a lot of black and white film, and that definitely influenced me when I switched to color. But the opposite didn’t happen here.
If I’m going to shoot a lot of plants, macro is more. I think B&W macro photos would have been much more interesting.
This December is going so well, because it’s cold though it’s also giving us a cold. We may not experience a white Christmas but a cool one is better than sweating .
I think this cold is also making my third baby feel under the weather. My pampered fur baby doesn’t like being cuddled but he likes to sleep under my arms. Every morning he wakes me up and I have to open my arms so he can squeeze himself beside me.
The city is back to being dug up. Looks like a dusty and a construction filled Christmas. I wish the city felt more festive too but it’s dry as ever. So, I have to satisfy myself with memes and my little girl’s drawings .
A tender, uplifting poem about spreading kindness through small acts—especially the simple gift of a smile.
It celebrates the beauty of sharing joy, lifting someone’s spirit, and becoming a quiet blessing in another person’s day.
# A Smile to Share #
Today feels like a perfect day, A gentle light along my way. The world looks soft, the sky is true, And my joy arrives in shades of blue.
Today my heart is warm and bright, I’ll share its glow, I’ll spread its light. For somewhere, someone hides their pain, And waits for sunshine after thunder rain.
I’ll offer them a hopeful word, A kindness they have rarely heard. I’ll lift a soul that’s feeling small, Remind them they are loved, after all.
A smile can travel far and wide, No need for wealth, no need for pride. Just one soft spark can change a day, And chase a little gloom away.
So here I stand, with joy to spare, A heart that’s open, warm, aware. If someone needs a brighter view— I’ll share my smile, just for you.
Yes, happiness grows more when shared, A gentle gift that whispers: I cared
As I enjoy the golden years of my life, I often pause to reflect on the invaluable lessons that time and experience have taught me.
These lessons are not just words—they are living truths that help us appreciate both the beauty and challenges of life.
Today, I want to share a few reflections that have shaped my perspective, hoping they resonate with you and add value to your own journey.
1. Money is Never Really Yours
One of the first profound realizations I’ve had is that money is transient. We may earn it, spend it, and save it, but it is never truly ours.
Money can provide comfort and security, and it can even help others—but its permanence is an illusion.
The true measure of wealth lies not in bank balances, but in how we use it.
Prioritize experiences over accumulation. Invest in memories, in acts of kindness, in moments that matter.
Ultimately, it’s the love we’ve shared and the lives we’ve touched that leave a lasting legacy—not the numbers in our accounts.
2. Chasing Often Leads to Elusion
Life has a curious way of making our desires feel elusive. The harder we chase success, recognition, or love, the more distant they can appear.
Through experience, I’ve learned that the most effective way to attract what we want is not through relentless pursuit, but by focusing on becoming the best version of ourselves.
Align your actions with your values and purpose, and the rewards often arrive naturally, sometimes in ways you never expected.
Growth comes from self-improvement, not from constantly chasing external validation.
3. Your Efforts Build Character, Even if Others Benefit
It’s a difficult truth: sometimes others may benefit from your hard work. Initially, this can feel discouraging.
You invest time, energy, and heart into a project, only to see someone else reap the rewards.
Yet the real value lies not in recognition, but in personal growth. Each effort enriches your skills, discipline, and resilience.
Even if others profit from your work, the dedication you put forth strengthens your character and builds integrity—qualities no one can take away.
In the end, it is the journey of becoming, not the applause, that truly matters.
4. Pleasing Everyone is a Recipe for Losing Yourself
There was a time when I tried to make everyone happy, believing it was the path to harmony. I learned the hard way that this often comes at the cost of your own identity.
True fulfillment comes from authenticity. Learn to set boundaries and say “no” when necessary. Those who truly care about you will respect your honesty and cherish your individuality.
By honoring your own needs, you cultivate healthier relationships and a deeper sense of self-worth.
5. What Will Your Children Remember?
In twenty years, children won’t remember the promotions you earned or the long hours you worked.
What will linger in their memories are the bedtime stories, shared laughter, and the moments when you chose them over everything else.
Time is life’s greatest gift. Spend it generously with those who matter most. Attend school events, play games, and simply be present.
These moments of connection define family and leave a lasting imprint on the values, self-esteem, and love your children carry into adulthood.
Your legacy is not measured by material wealth, but by the memories and love you cultivate.
6. The Power of Slowing Down
Finally, in a world that constantly urges us to rush, I’ve learned the profound importance of slowing down.
Not everything meaningful arrives in haste. Creativity requires breathing space, clarity requires silence, and joy requires room to flourish.
Pausing allows us to reflect, recharge, and approach life with a peaceful mind. Sometimes, the simple act of slowing down—taking a quiet walk, savoring a meal, or enjoying a moment of stillness—can transform our perspective .
This help us accomplish far more than constant busyness ever could.
My Final Submission
Life is a series of lessons, each offering an opportunity to grow, reflect, and live more intentionally. From understanding the transient nature of money to cherishing small, meaningful moments with loved ones, each experience shapes who we are.
By embracing these truths—valuing authenticity over approval, cultivating resilience, and pausing to savor life—we not only enrich our own journey but also leave a meaningful legacy for others.
So, friends, take a moment today to reflect: What lessons has life been teaching you? Share them, embrace them, and let them guide you on this incredible journey called life.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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There is a door I often think about – strong, sturdy, and slightly worn out. It looks like it has seen so much life, opened and closed by many hands across generations, people walking in and out.
I wonder what lies behind the door. What secrets does it hold? What does it shield and cover? What stories has it heard? Whom has it let in, and whom has it quietly kept out?
I imagine it being pushed open in anger, or gently nudged aside by someone slipping in or out.
It has weathered every kind of weather – the sun blazing down on it as it opens to let warmth in, and the cold rain and storms against which it stands firm so those inside may rest, sheltered and safe.
Lines of wear and tear run across it, marks and small etchings from children who once played around it, who grew up and eventually left – some far from this place.
But the door still stands, its frame steadfast, still doing what it must – quietly holding the years on its hinges.
For doors, like people, are not just entryways; they are keepers – of echoes, of laughter, of grief, of time.
Still it stands – a silent witness to seasons, storms, and stories – not just protecting a house, but guarding the fragile world within it.
A door that knows more than it reveals, and reveals only what it must – carrying a lifetime of memories in every scar across its wood.
My mom’s home is a century-old property, and the inspiration for this poem is the door back home. It’s the most used one – opening from the kitchen to the outside. And the kitchen has always been the heart of our home. It’s where the major things in life have happened through the years. This door has witnessed everything.
What positive events have taken place in your life over the past year?
The things that matter like. This place is always crowded and one has to wait for a table. But today, I decided we should… after all Sundays are as much for emotional and physical feeding .
What Is Your USP? The Question That Changes Everything
We live in a world obsessed with branding. Companies spend millions defining their Unique Selling Proposition—the one thing that makes them stand out in a crowded market.
But here’s a thought that stopped me in my tracks recently: What if we turned that same question on ourselves?
“What is your USP?”
Not your job title. Not your follower count. Not your salary, degree, or the car you drive.
Your personal USP. The irreducible essence of you. The quiet, unmistakable signature that remains when all the labels fall away.
Most of us have never paused long enough to answer it. We’re too busy performing roles—employee, parent, partner, achiever, survivor—without ever asking what thread runs through every role that is exclusively, irreplicably ours.
Today, I want to invite you to pause with me. Because discovering your personal USP isn’t vanity. It’s clarity. And clarity, in a noisy world, is oxygen.
It’s Not What You Do—It’s How You Make People Feel
Maya Angelou famously said, “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
Your true USP lives in that feeling.
It’s the way a room relaxes when you walk in. The way someone’s guarded shoulders drop after five minutes of talking to you.
The way your message, text, or comment lingers in someone’s mind at times. when they needed it most.
Skills can be learned. Degrees can be earned. But the specific emotional fingerprint you leave on another human being? That’s alchemy. That’s yours alone.
Your USP Is Forged, Not Found
Nobody is born with a fully formed USP glowing on their forehead. It’s hammered out in the furnace of life:
The betrayal that taught you loyalty
The failure that taught you grace
The grief that taught you tenderness
The loneliness that taught you presence
The joy that taught you generosity
Every scar, every laugh line, every late-night doubt session adds a new note to your symphony. You don’t invent your USP—you uncover it by paying fierce attention to the story only you can tell.
The Rarest USP of All: Authenticity in a Filtered World
We live in the age of curation. Everyone is performing their highlight reel 24/7. In that context, showing up unfiltered becomes revolutionary.
The courage to say “I don’t know.” The willingness to post the photo without the filter. The honesty to admit you’re tired, scared, or still figuring it out.
Authenticity isn’t loud. It’s quiet, steady, and impossibly magnetic. When you refuse to contort yourself for approval, you give everyone around you permission to do the same.
That’s not just unique. That’s liberation.
My Own USP
After years of running from this question, I finally sat still long enough to hear the answer whispering back:
I make people feel understood.
Not fixed. Not impressed. Not even inspired—though I hope those happen too. But understood. Deeply, truly, annoyingly seen.
I can sit with someone’s mess without rushing to tidy it. I can hear the story beneath the story. I can hold space for contradictions without needing to resolve them. And when I reflect back what I see—not polished, not judged, just witnessed—something in the other person exhales.
In a world where everyone is screaming to be heard, choosing to understand first is apparently radical.
That’s my USP. Forged from every time I wasn’t understood myself. Refined in every conversation where someone finally felt safe enough to take off their mask.
Your Turn—Because You Have One Too
Your USP isn’t about being better than anyone else. It’s about being more you than anyone else can be.
Maybe yours is the way you make people laugh when laughter feels impossible.
Maybe it’s your ferocious protectiveness over the underdog.
Maybe it’s your ability to see ten steps ahead and gently guide others there without making them feel small.
Maybe it’s the quiet resilience that keeps showing up, day after day, long after others would have quit.
It’s probably in the compliments people keep giving you that you brush off (“You always know how to…”). It’s definitely in the moments people remember about you years later.
You don’t have to announce it. You don’t have to monetize it. You just have to know it. Protect it. Live it out loud in ten thousand tiny ways.
Because the world doesn’t need another influencer. It needs you, at full volume, being the precise flavor of human only you can be.
So tell me—when you strip away the roles, the résumé, the shoulds and supposed-tos…
What is your USP?
The answer might just be the most important discovery of your life.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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“What I Hope People Say About Me” — A Legacy Painted in Kindness and Light
“What’s the one thing you hope people say about you when you’re no longer in the room? This question made me pause, reflect, and rediscover what truly matters. Here’s the legacy I wish to leave—not in grand achievements, but in hearts I’ve touched.”
Yes, If I were to answer honestly, the one thing I hope people say about me is: “They made others feel valued, inspired, and understood.”
Why these qualities? Because in the swirl of life’s chaos, the most profound gift we can offer anyone is acknowledgment.
In a world full of hurried conversations, distracted attention, and superficial connections, making someone feel truly seen, heard, and respected is rare.
I want people to feel that when they interact with me, they matter—not for what they could do for me, but for who they genuinely are.
The Simplicity and Strength of Empathy
The beauty of this aspiration lies in its simplicity. It doesn’t require fame, wealth, or grandeur. It doesn’t hinge on accolades or social recognition. What it does require, however, is presence, empathy, and kindness.
To make someone feel valued, we must practice active listening, offer words that uplift rather than judge, and respect differences even when they challenge our own perspectives.
It’s about subtle gestures—a smile at the right moment, remembering a detail about someone’s life, or sitting in silence while letting them share without fear of interruption.
These small acts ripple far beyond what we can ever fully measure.
Weaving Meaning Into Communities
Aiming to make others feel understood is not just about interpersonal relationships; it’s about shaping communities.
Imagine classrooms where every student feels their ideas are appreciated, workplaces where every team member knows their contributions matter, and neighborhoods where empathy guides action.
When people recognize you as someone who genuinely values others, it transforms the way they engage with the world. It inspires trust, builds bridges, and softens the edges of misunderstanding.
In the journey of life, each of us weaves a unique thread into the grand design of human experience.
As I reflected on the prompt, a kaleidoscope of thoughts and emotions filled my mind.
Yet amid the many qualities that define me, a clear theme emerged—the desire to be remembered as inspiring, motivating, and positive.
The Artistic Canvas of Positivity
As an artist, I see my life as a canvas, and the colors I choose reflect my attitude and outlook.
Positivity, to me, is not naïve optimism—it is a deliberate, powerful force capable of transforming not only our own lives but also the lives of those around us.
Through my art—be it vibrant paintings, expressive poetry, or uplifting music—I strive to infuse joy, hope, and warmth into the world.
Art has the unique ability to speak directly to the heart, and I hope my creations leave behind an imprint of optimism long after the moment has passed.
Kindness as a Brushstroke
One of the most profound ways we touch the lives of others is through simple acts of kindness. I cherish the moments when a stranger’s kindness has brightened my day, and I aspire to be that quiet, gentle light for someone else.
A supportive word, a compassionate gesture, or even a warm smile can shift the direction of someone’s entire day.
If people remember me as someone who consistently offered kindness—even in small, effortless ways—that would be a legacy worth cherishing.
Inspiration Through Shared Stories
Life is a collection of stories, and each narrative holds the power to inspire. Through my own experiences, challenges, and triumphs, I hope to connect with others on a deeper level.
By sharing what I’ve learned, I wish to motivate people to embrace their journeys with resilience and courage.
When our stories intertwine, they create a tapestry richer and more meaningful than any single thread could ever be.
A Ripple Effect of Motivation
Motivation is the spark that ignites transformation. Whether through my actions, words, or artistic creations, I aspire to inspire others to believe in themselves, overcome obstacles, and pursue their dreams with conviction.
If even one person can say, “They inspired me to be better,” then my journey will have been worthwhile.
A Legacy Painted in Light
Yes, dear friends—In the symphony of life, I strive to play a melody that resonates with kindness, inspiration, and positivity.
As the chapters of my story unfold, my hope is to be remembered not only as an artist, but as a catalyst for joy, courage, and human connection.
“A life is not measured by the moments we lived, but by the moments we helped someone else feel seen, valued, and inspired.”
Thank you, dear readers, for walking with me through these reflections. If anything in these words resonates with you, if even a small part of this journey mirrors your own, I hope you carry it into your day and share a spark of kindness, inspiration, or understanding with someone else.
The world becomes gentler each time we choose empathy. And if my words have added even a little warmth to your world, then I consider this writing truly worthwhile.
My daughter says if only weekends were five days a week and school just two days, that would be the life. It does sound good in theory, but do I really want havoc five days a week at home?
Lately she’s getting habituated to watching true crime documentaries with me. Last night we watched All The Empty Rooms, about children who died in school shootings and how their rooms are preserved exactly as they were the last time they left home. It was thirty-five minutes of feeling your heart get pricked. Listening to families talk about their child or sibling, seeing how they hold on to memories by leaving the rooms untouched. It was gut-wrenching to watch fathers sit in their child’s room and talk to them.
Steve Hartman, the host, asked a poignant question: whether cleaning the room also meant closing the door to their memories or presence. Of course, they’ll never be forgotten. But preserving the room almost feels like wishing the children would still return home.
At the beginning, Steve said he decided to make this documentary because he felt America, himself included, was becoming numb as shootings become more frequent. And that is the truth. When tragedies begin to feel like daily affairs, our coping mechanisms push us into our bubbles. We pretend nothing is happening, or that nothing can affect us.
But what does it say about us when we numb ourselves from tragedies like school shootings, disasters, or any form of suffering? Are we slowly becoming machines – functioning only when we’re oiled, otherwise shutting down? Are our emotions becoming a switch we turn on and off? Is that why there’s so much apathy today? A person crying out doesn’t move us; instead, we film them.
Somewhere along the way, we’ve begun to confuse survival with silence. Apathy has become the easiest option because it asks nothing of us – no discomfort, no sensitivity, no grief, no responsibility. Just a quiet detachment that lets us say, “This isn’t my life, my child, or my problem.”
But the cost of that detachment is huge. The more tragedies become headlines, the more we overlook suffering as if it’s just another incident. Our hearts adapt by feeling less. A person in pain becomes background noise. Someone collapses in public and instead of helping, phones rise into the air. It is ironic that we talk endlessly about connection yet remain indifferent to pain.
I keep thinking, maybe we’re not becoming heartless… maybe we’re tired. Overwhelmed. Fed so much horror that feeling everything would break us. In order not to break we opt for the other extreme – not to feel.
That’s why documentaries like All The Empty Rooms matter, they pry open doors we’ve numbed shut. They force us to step inside untouched bedrooms and see that these aren’t “issues” or “news stories.” They were children. With hopes, plans, dreams and futures. With parents who still sit on their beds and speak into the silence, trying to make sense of life and death.
As Steve Hartman says: “I wish that we could transport all Americans to stand in one of those bedrooms for just a few minutes. We’d be a different America.” And many families, he notes, cannot “surrender… another piece of their kid that’s gone” by cleaning or repurposing the room.
And it makes me wonder: If numbness protects us, then who protects the world from what we become when we stop caring?
I’m just going to come right out and say it, my parents were not good gift picker outers. Some people have a knack for giving others what they really want and others, well, they’re cheap.
When I was in Grade 10 I received an interesting, and honestly, disappointing, birthday gift from my parents. And I get that it’s difficult, with my birthday being four days before Christmas, to want to spend the money or put in the effort for a proper birthday. Christmas is enough work and expense as it is, without having to worry about focusing on a birthday in the same week.
But a girl in grade ten, even way back in the early nineties, hoped for cool, feminine, teenage type of gift.
What I got that year was a watch. Dad had apparently picked it out. From the sole hardware/grocery/liquor store in Birch River. It was gold, which was never my thing. I was always more into sterling silver, still am. But that was the least of it.
It was a digital watch that played music. Not like a smart watch. More like if you hit the top right button you could hear yankee doodle dandy or when the saints come marching in kind of music. No singing, just music. It was hideous.
Did I act like I loved it when I opened it up? Possibly. I mean receiving a watch isn’t necessarily a bad gift. I just wasn’t crazy about gold and then knowing it came from the store it came from was…embarrassing. Then the fact that it played this lame music, to a fourteen year old, it was not cool.
I did wear it yes. When you grow up…not wealthy, you get good a learning to laugh at yourself. Cause what else can you do. I remember wearing it in Biology class and my best friend and another guy who sat at our table playing the watch’s silly songs and having a good laugh.
I had a great childhood and I have amazing parents but I really wonder what my Mom was thinking when she gave my Dad the task of going into Birch River to pick out my birthday gift that year.
*disclaimer* this photo may or may not have a filter…okay yes obviously it does…I need all the help I can get some days
I would have loved to see wild animals in African and Indian safaris, because they look so interesting, but I feel contented with my farm animals around me. My day is always brighter with them.
This morning was a little special because I found out when I stepped outside at five that our village was engulfed with thick fog, and I so love it. I walked with my dogs and took photos and videos of the farm animals I’ve seen on our walk. I added the photos of my chickens, Jigi and Lila, with their babies.
Jigi and her chicksLila and her babies My dogs, a carabao, and the ownerNeighbor’s pigsAround 5am
It’s the weekend again, and I became the full caretaker of our goats since my eldest sister is out of town for a church party. It means I would walk a little more today since they are pastured in the river again.
Cute visitors Our goat barn
I wish you a beautiful weekend, my amazing readers. Stay happy and healthy. Thank you so much always!
I hope this blog finds you smiling, maybe even daydreaming a little. Today’s question is close to my heart: “Beach or mountains? Which do you prefer? And why?”
At first glance, it sounds simple. But pause for a moment—this choice often says more about your personality, your mood, and even how you see life itself.
We all need a pause in our fast-paced lives—a moment to recharge. For me, both beaches and mountains have that magic.
And recently, I got to experience both in ways I’ll never forget.
The Beach: Mandarmani Memories
Let’s start with the beach. My trip to Mandarmani, a serene sea beach in West Bengal, was a journey back to peace.
Today, while scrolling through old videos, I stumbled upon a clip from this trip. The moment it played, I could almost smell the salt in the air again. The rhythmic waves, children laughing, vendors calling out—it all came alive.
Standing at the shore, sand between my toes and waves dancing around my ankles, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time—pure calm.
The sea shimmered like molten gold as the sun painted the sky in amber and crimson.
Boats anchored near the shore became dark silhouettes, coconut trees swayed in the evening breeze, and my family and I simply watched, quietly savoring the moment.
The beach awakens all your senses. The salty air, seagulls overhead, ice cream in hand—it’s almost impossible not to feel alive.
Beaches are magical, slowing time even if just for a few hours. And if you’re social, there’s endless fun: volleyball, picnics, laughter-filled walks.
Even alone, the ocean whispers: You are part of something bigger, something boundless.
That day at Mandarmani reminded me of something essential: storms pass, tides return, and beauty waits quietly to be rediscovered.
Happiness, like the waves, may ebb, but it always flows back.
The Mountains: Nathula Adventure
Now, let’s hike to the mountains. Amid a scorching heatwave, my family and I escaped to Gangtok, Sikkim, chasing frosty memories in the middle of summer.
Our destination: the majestic Nathula Pass. We started at 6 A.M., PAPs (Protected Area Permits) in hand, sweaters and jackets ready, and hearts full of excitement.
The drive itself was thrilling—winding roads, high-altitude winds, and snow-capped peaks all around. We couldn’t stop clicking pictures. Every turn revealed waterfalls, valleys, and pristine landscapes that felt almost surreal.
Finally, Nathula Pass! At 4,310 meters, it’s one of the highest motorable passes in the world. The Chinese border lay just a handshake away, and Indian jawans stood vigilant, braving extreme cold and unpredictable weather.
Watching their courage and discipline was humbling; I couldn’t help but salute them.
The pass was a winter wonderland—snow everywhere, icy winds, and a chilling – 4°C.
Walking carefully on slippery paths, sipping hot coffee, and playing in the snow, I felt both exhilaration and awe.
The Chumbi Valley stretched below us, framed by mountains glowing under a clear blue sky. Every moment was a reminder of nature’s grandeur and life’s possibilities.
Mountains challenge you physically and mentally, yet reward you with unmatched beauty and perspective. They teach patience, resilience, and reflection.
Unlike beaches, which celebrate joy and playfulness, mountains encourage quiet introspection and adventure. Both are transformative in their own way.
So, Beach or Mountains?
The answer is simple: both. Beaches teach us to let go, laugh, and be present. Mountains teach us courage, reflection, and wonder.
Each experience shapes us differently, and both leave a mark on the soul. My trips to Mandarmani and Nathula reminded me how vital it is to reconnect with nature—whether through the calming rhythm of waves or the thrill of icy peaks.
So, next time wanderlust strikes, ask yourself: do you crave the laughter of waves or the thrill of heights? Either way, nature is ready to teach, heal, and inspire.
Life’s beauty isn’t just in the destination—it’s in the moments we allow ourselves to fully experience.
Whether it’s the sun on your face or snow beneath your boots, take that pause. Let the world around you remind you that life is full of joy, awe, and simple, unforgettable moments.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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It’s just another twenty days to Christmas and twenty-something days before this year packs its bags and leaves for good. Time we will never get back. Sometimes it makes me wonder about eternity – will we ever feel the weight of minutes and hours the way we do here? Every year that passes feels like a reminder that we’re inching closer to… what? Death? Life after? Or a giant cosmic question mark we’re all pretending not to think about.
But ehhh, before we go down that rabbit hole, there’s Christmas to look forward to . And with Christmas, it’s always the same: the day barely starts and poof – over. A festive blink.
Lately, I’ve been inundated with cash offers. Apparently, I’m very financially attractive these days. Unfortunately, the offers are so “good” they come wrapped in layers of T&Cs, interest rates, and enough marketing fluff to make me drool over. If financial institutions truly cared about my well-being, they’d just hand me the money. No forms, no fine print, no unreadable conditions. Just “Merry Christmas, here’s some cash, go be happy.” Instead I get, “Special offer just for you!” Really, just for me and a few thousand more specials like me.
And honestly? The free money would be such a big help. I’m still waiting to see the magical benefits of reduced GST – the price of coffee hasn’t moved an inch, and the cheesecake has actually become more expensive. These are the real essentials, the things that make life worth living . If Santa wants to be useful this year, he can start by subsidising caffeine and dessert.
The other day, I read about a 22-year-old who quit his corporate job with zero future plans because it didn’t fulfil him. When asked what he was going to do next, he said he had no idea – he just couldn’t keep doing something that drained him. I say, good for him. Today’s generation has options, opportunities, and a healthier understanding of what they want from life. Or at least they’re brave enough to question things early.
Of course, realistically, the boy probably has a safety net. Not everyone gets that luxury. For many, stepping away from a draining job isn’t a dream, it’s a fantasy. And that’s just life, isn’t it? Even when we believe there are endless possibilities, reality has this annoying habit of nudging us awake.
That doesn’t stop me from encouraging the children to dream. I just sprinkle in a little realism or a generous drizzle. More than chasing goals, I want them to find purpose in whatever they choose to do. Purpose keeps you grounded when everything else shifts.
I always tell them that life is tough and unforgiving. We won’t always get our heart’s desire, and things won’t always turn out the way we envisioned. But life does give us chances – tiny ones, huge ones, unexpected ones. It may not unfold according to plan, but as long as we refuse to kneel before adversity or the negative voices inside us, we win. Every day we stand back up, we win a little more.
These are the last pictures from my roll of CineStill 400 I’ll be sharing. The results are … mixed.
This pomegranate caught my eye from a distance, redder than the others in the tree. But this photo feels flat and dull, and the color reproduction is not very accurate. It leans more brown and yellow. There’s also a bird above it, but like the pomegranate, it too is slightly out of focus. Drat! f8, 1/125 sec
Here, at least, the pomegranate is in focus. But the colors are washed out and nothing pops. f8, 1/250 sec
Here is another pomegranate that leapt out at my due to its bright red color. You can almost see that in this image, but the color reproduction ultimately disappoints me. And being mostly in shade, there is no dramatic halation. f4, 1/250 sec
This one, surprisingly, I like. I thought the leaves struck an interesting contrast to the bare branches around them, and snapped a photo, not really believing it would result in an interesting image. But it’s sharper and pops more than the pomegranate images I thought for sure would impress me. I wanted to frame the leaves in the “V” of a branch in the foreground, and I think that worked out well, too. f8, 1/125 sec
I’ll close with this shot of an abandoned car. The sun was glaring off the rooftop, and I was hoping to capture that with this picture. I think I did. f8, 1/250 sec
Next time: Ilford Delta 400, another gifted roll of film that I think turned out pretty good.
This poem explores the delicate moment between life and death, when the soul finally stands face-to-face with the truth the living often avoid.
As the body prepares to turn into ash, the soul asks a single, piercing question—Did you truly live?
It is a journey from endings to beginnings, from sorrow to self-rebirth.
Before I Turn to Ashes
My final breath slipped out quietly— so quietly I couldn’t beg for one more moment.
Time stood still, yet refused to offer even a heartbeat more.
My mortal body lay upon the pyre, flames waiting to claim what was left of me.
Some wept with truth, some with hollow sympathy, and those who never cared finally found words I no longer needed.
In the fading warmth that clung to my skin, my soul stood beside me— closer than any living hand had ever been.
It touched my dimming face and whispered, “Did you live your life?”
My body trembled and answered, “Perhaps… yes…” but the words wavered like smoke.
My soul smiled, soft, knowing, and asked again— “Really? What did you do for me? Did you ever choose yourself? Did you ever protect your own heart? Did you smile for your own joy, even once?”
Silence spilled between us, a silence the living never hear.
What remains now is not their tears, not their love, not their indifference— only a small pile of regrets pressing against a chest that will soon be dust.
Even one true moment lived for myself could have changed everything.
But this is not the end— not for the soul.
As the body breaks into embers, the journey stretches forward, asking to begin again.
I must return— to correct myself, to choose myself, to truly live.
So I rise from my own ashes with a vow unspoken—
I will be reborn, and this time, I will live for me.
New Daily Prompt: How many near death experiences have you had? How did they make you feel?If you’ve only had one, or none at all, what is wrong with you???
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
But no matter how many times I tell the broker that, my life insurance premiums keep going up.
Yesterday, my third eldest sister brought a written notice for my cousin regarding their land property in another village, and since their house is located uphill, I offered to send the letter to him. Whitey and I sent it this morning. It was foggy, and it looked serene, and I’m always thankful that my dog accompanied me. He waited for me when I stopped by shortly, sat, and just watched the fleeting fogs.
Nothing extremely exciting happened today; hence, I want to share what our house setup usually is on Sunday, especially when my sisters are appointment-free. It looks simple, but I love it.
Elsewhere, I’m waiting for Jam’s final update, and I’m so excited to share it with you.
Thank you so much for your amazing support. Stay fantastic, my amazing readers. Happy Friday!
The rats are back in the walls and nearly killed me by chewing through the insulation on an extension cord.
As I was stuffing steel wool into the hole in the outside vent they were using to get in, I shorted the exposed copper.
Nearly started a fire at the same time I was almost electrocuted.
I wish this near-death-adjacent moment brought some sort of epiphany or revelation.
But it didn’t.
I unplugged the extension cord, pulled the flaming steel wool out of the hole, stomped on and doused everything with water, and then stuffed the hole with fresh steel wool.
And came inside, suddenly exhausted beyond all measure, hands trembling.
So I have no wisdom to impart.
Except to say maybe the Amish have the right idea.
Telling lame jokes to the checkout person at the grocery store when one of the girls is with me and embarrassing the heck out of them is one of my favourite things to do, AND I’m pretty darn good at it.
I’m great at oversharing but we’ve already established that.
I was always a really good driver, ask my dad. A natural. In my opinion, I’m the best driver on the road
Lately I’ve been killing it at murdering my plants. Not something I want to be good at but unfortunately I am.
I’m good with babies. A baby whisperer. Like driving, it just comes natural.
My sweet little Cordelia, many moons ago in Scottsdale Arizona
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful, peaceful mood. Today’s writing prompt—“What could you do less of?”—felt surprisingly simple at first glance, almost like a casual question whispered in passing.
But as I sat with it, letting it settle a bit deeper, I realized how profound and transformative it can truly be.
We often talk about what we want more of in life—more time, more success, more health, more money, more peace.
But the question of what we want less of?
That one rarely gets invited to the table. And yet, it carries an incredible power, because sometimes a better life is not about addition… but subtraction.
So today, I write not only as an answer to the prompt but also as a quiet reminder to myself—and perhaps to you as well.
1. Less Overthinking: The Mind’s Endless Traffic
If I could choose just one thing to do less of, it would be overthinking.
Not the healthy reflection that helps us learn or grow, but that endless internal traffic—doubt, replay, second-guessing, rehearsing conversations that never happen, worrying about outcomes that never occur.
Overthinking is like holding a glass of water—not heavy in the beginning, but exhausting if held for too long. Life becomes lighter when we agree to put the glass down for a moment.
What if we replaced analysis paralysis with gentle trust? What if we allowed space for things to unfold instead of trying to control each branch of the future?
Doing less overthinking is not an act of laziness. It is an act of wisdom.
2. Less Saying ‘Yes’ When My Heart Says ‘No’
Many of us carry a lifetime habit of pleasing others. We nod, agree, accept, commit—often at the cost of our own energy.
But peace arrives the moment we realize that “no” is not a negative word. – It is a boundary. – A self-respecting filter. – A quiet decision that protects whatever is sacred within us.
Doing less of what drains us does not make us selfish. It makes us sustainable.
Imagine living a life where half-hearted obligations are replaced by wholehearted choices.
3. Less Comparing Myself to Others
In a world overflowing with curated perfection—fitness transformations, travel diaries, achievement posts, and endless success stories—comparison slips into our thoughts almost unnoticed.
But comparison is a thief: Of joy, of confidence, of gratitude.
When we compare, we measure our behind-the-scenes with someone else’s highlight reel. We forget that each person walks a unique path, shaped by invisible challenges and private victories.
Doing less comparison opens the door to celebrating others without dimming ourselves. And in that space, appreciation blossoms where insecurity once lived.
4. Less Clutter—Externally and Internally
Clutter is not only physical; it is emotional, digital, relational, and mental. From overpacked drawers to overcrowded to-do lists, from old resentments to unnecessary notifications, clutter steals our clarity.
What if we did less accumulating and more releasing? Less hoarding and more simplifying?
Every time we remove what no longer serves us—an object, a habit, a fear—we make room for something more aligned, more peaceful, more authentic.
Minimalism isn’t about having less; It’s about making space for what matters more.
5. Less Rushing Through Life
We rush through meals, conversations, moments, even days. Our schedule is packed; our pace is hurried.
But the truth is: Most of the beauty in life happens in the in-between moments—when we pause long enough to notice.
Doing less rushing doesn’t mean doing less living. It means living more mindfully.
It means noticing the morning sunlight, the way tea feels warm in the hands, the softness in a friend’s voice, the quiet happiness in simply being alive.
6. Less Self-Judgment
If we spoke to others the way we speak to ourselves, many of us would be apologizing every day. Our inner voice can be harsh, impatient, unforgiving.
But self-criticism doesn’t make us better. Self-compassion does.
Doing less self-judgment is an act of emotional freedom. It allows us to grow in kindness rather than shame, in acceptance rather than fear.
Yes, Subtraction as a Path to Peace
“What could you do less of?” is not a question about restriction. It is a question about liberation.
When we peel away the unnecessary—overthinking, pleasing, comparing, rushing, cluttering, judging—we uncover something softer, truer, quieter: Our authentic self.
Sometimes the real work of life is not to look for more, but to let go of what weighs us down.
So, dear friends, as you read this, perhaps pause for a moment and ask yourself gently:
What could you do less of—so you can live more fully, more deeply, more freely?
May we all choose subtraction where it brings peace. May we grow lighter, not by adding… but by releasing.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Crows followed us as we walked, and I tried to get pictures of them in flight.
It’s a lot harder than you think, so I got lots of pictures of our beautiful clear skies. Does this count for my something beautiful photo?Look! It’s the Crow Signal!Life finds a way, part 2
Ran out of peppermint mocha creamer for my coffee, so this morning’s ritual included something called “Cookie Butter” creamer.
There are mules, and sometimes horses, not too far from my in-laws. I like to photograph them, but have to settle for the lighting conditions I get when I’m visiting.
For these photos, it was mostly sunny, which is great if you are shooting film known for its halation.
The sun was low in the sky and just perfect for what I was attempting. Note the blown out halation of the trailer in the background. The faint lines in the foreground are not scratches from development processing, but barbed wire. f8, 1/125 sec
This photo isn’t bad, but I like the one below more. I only shared this one to show the color difference. These pictures were not taken that far apart, but the color in this one is flatter and browner. f9.5, 1/250 sec
The grass is actually green in this image and far less brown than in the previous image. I like how the sunlight is hitting them in both images, but I think there’s slightly more halation in the foreground horse in this picture. But I also had the aperture open a half stop more in this shot. f8, 1/250 sec
I think with the right lighting conditions, you can really make this film shine. I’m not saying these photographs are great, but I’m starting to learn how CineStill works, particularly when it comes to halation. Direct sunlight, evenly lit doesn’t generate it as much, but angled, or with a composition that has some shadows, it is more prevalent.
Next time: Something a little less mobile to photograph
This requires actually using my brain cells. I think I can make people laugh – but I’m definitely better at making them cry. Ask my family.
I’ll have to wait for the brain to start working before I come up with a few more.
But today, we’re celebrating eighteen years of parenting. Eighteen years – we survived. I’m still not sure how we’ve done it, but we’re still standing, and our teen has turned out okay… so far.
It has been a joy to be given this privilege of being his parents. And now, as he legally steps into adulthood, it is with a mix of trepidation, boundless love, and quiet wonder that we loosen our hands, step back, and watch him learn to take flight.
The teen has shown me that parenting can be easy – if your child is someone like him. Gentle to a fault, no tantrums, no drama. He’s an introvert, but observant. He is growing into his own person, and I’m proud of that.
When kids his age are doing what’s “normal” for them, he’s comfortable being himself, not seeking attention or validation, quietly doing what he believes is right for him. I hope the independence he has cultivated will stand him in good stead all his life. He is grounded and has his head firmly on his shoulders. What more can I ask for?
Of course, he has those dreaded behaviors too. He loves annoying his sister but also ropes her into their online games. That’s how sibling relationships evolve, and I have to accept it.
Keeping his room tidy is me losing my voice and sanity. Studying takes a backseat to gymming.
He’s into fitness, I guess conventional education isn’t his path right now. He can be obstinate and such a know-it-all; it grates on my nerves. I wish he’d communicate more, but he is who he is. He knows what he needs to share with us.
What I do worry about is that his gentleness will be taken advantage of. But for now, I don’t need to worry – he’s more focused on his fitness journey than romance. I am one overjoyed mum.
It has been an incredible eighteen years parenting him.
Dealing with the hormonal years was/is… let’s just say “character-building,” though it has thankfully subsided. What I’m blessed with in this season is watching how the two of them are bonding, despite the age gap.
My son may not be vocal, but he loves and adores his sister.
As parents, we’ve fumbled and tumbled more times than we can count, but watching these two grow together – I’d say every fumble and tumble has been worth it.
Have You Ever Performed on Stage or Given a Speech?
Hello dear friends
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective mood.
Today’s writing prompt invites us to revisit a unique chapter of our lives—one that many of us either cherish warmly or shy away from entirely : “Have you ever performed on stage or given a speech?”
It sounds like a simple question, but behind it lies a world of experiences—nervous moments, unexpected applause, forgotten lines, personal victories, and transformative lessons.
Public speaking and stage performances are not just events; they are milestones that shape the person we grow into.
Let me share a journey close to my heart.
An Unexpected Beginning
Though I’ve always been talkative in everyday life, the idea of addressing a crowd filled me with a different kind of fear. It was a strange contradiction—comfortable in conversation, but uneasy in the spotlight.
My first real encounter with public speaking happened unexpectedly during the inauguration of our new bank branch.
It was a significant occasion: a decorated hall, distinguished guests, enthusiastic staff, and the sharp, observant presence of our Managing Director.
I had not prepared to speak that day, yet destiny nudged me gently onto the stage.
As I held the microphone, my rehearsed lines evaporated. My heart raced, my hands trembled, and all I managed to say was, “Respected Mr. MD… and other dignitaries.”
A shaky beginning, but a beginning nonetheless.
The Turning Point
Just as panic began to grip me, something beautiful happened. The audience applauded. Their warm encouragement soothed the chaos within me.
With every clap, my breathing eased, my thoughts settled, and my voice found its rhythm.
Suddenly, the words flowed—not perfectly, not poetically, but sincerely. What had started as fear slowly transformed into confidence.
That moment became a defining memory—a reminder that sometimes, courage arrives halfway through the journey, not at the beginning.
It was the day I realized that the stage is not an enemy; it is a mirror reflecting strengths we didn’t know we had.
Lessons From the Aftermath
Although I had spoken at smaller gatherings before, this inauguration felt like my true debut. Long after the event ended, its lessons remained with me.
I began to reflect on the nature of public speaking—why it intimidates us and how we can make peace with it.
I learned that preparation is not merely useful—it is essential. Over-preparation, in fact, became my safety net.
Interestingly, some of my friends even took acting lessons to improve their projection, articulation, and stage presence. Their transformation showed me how significantly performance techniques enhance speaking skills.
These insights stayed with me as I approached new beginnings later in life.
A Different Kind of Stage
Post-retirement, I decided to explore something that had long fascinated me—becoming a YouTuber. This new digital stage felt different yet familiar.
The bright lights were replaced by a camera lens, and the applause by likes, comments, and appreciative messages.
Here, I wasn’t just speaking—I was expressing, creating, and sharing pieces of myself. What once felt intimidating became enjoyable.
The butterflies that troubled me on a physical stage were replaced with excitement and passion.
It made me realize that stages come in many forms. Some have spotlights and velvet curtains; others fit in the palm of your hand.
Why This Prompt Matters
The question “Have you ever performed on stage or given a speech?” is far more than a reflection of past events—it is a reflection of personal evolution.
Public speaking teaches us:
Courage – the willingness to step forward despite fear.
Confidence – built one trembling word at a time.
Connection – because audiences respond to authenticity.
Growth – every mistake is a stepping stone.
Expression – finding our voice and letting it be heard.
Every experience—good or bad—adds a chapter to our life’s story.
The Stage Is Everywhere
Even if you have never stood under stage lights, remember that life gives us countless informal stages. Speaking in team meetings, expressing opinions in family gatherings, narrating stories to friends—these too are performances in their own right.
We all have moments when we become speakers, performers, or storytellers without realizing it.
My Final Submission
Looking back, my journey from trembling on a stage to confidently addressing audiences—both live and digital—has been transformative.
Every stumble, every encouraging clap, every video upload, and every comment from my online community contributed to my growth.
Fear, once a hurdle, became a source of strength.
The most valuable lesson I learned? Every moment of nervousness is simply an invitation to grow.
And so, friends, the journey continues. With every word spoken—on stage or online—I carry with me the memory of that first speech, and the quiet confidence it helped me discover.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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-empty the damn dishwasher everyday (but am I grateful to even have a dishwasher, yes of course)
-start the car and let it warm up before driving it, every time I need to go somewhere in the winter
-brush the snow off the car each time I need to go somewhere
-feel guilty for not seeing my parents enough
-feel guilty when I miss a workout day
-feel guilty when I eat something I shouldn’t
-dye my roots every four weeks just so I can pretend I’m ten years younger than I am
-pluck chin hairs, like ever again
When we first signed up to be foster parents in the spring of 2022 I got this room all ready, for a small baby lol, we ended up with an 18 month old (Sid) and so I had to replace this bassinet with an actual crib & today it’s a little boy room
It’s a long drive and I don’t relish the thought of it under normal circumstances, let alone knowing I’ll be doing it multiple times in a month.
But I bring a camera with me as a sort of consolation prize, because there’s always something up there to photograph.
And occasionally, my resulting photo is interesting.
Though that may not be obvious in today’s post…
Sunset the first night. Interesting, but not nearly as dramatic as reality. I probably should have exposed it more, but I recall the camera meter was already calling for as much light as possible to get this. Unfortunately, my notes are jumbled here, so I have no exposure info…
The light streaming in through the blinds was very dramatic, but sadly this picture utterly failed to capture that. It just looks…dingy. But there’s definitely halation around the really bright spots… f4, 1/250 sec
Nothing terribly awe-inspiring here, but it does show some of the limitations of the film. Which fits my vibe at the time of dread at dealing with the long, dreary drive.
The poem focuses on appreciating the small blessings in our daily lives. It talks about simple moments and the quiet strength of gratitude that supports us in both happy and tough times.
It encourages us to pause, breathe, and value life for how it molds us.
# I Am Grateful For #
I am grateful for each newborn day, For morning light that clears my way. For humble walls that stand so near, A little home of warmth and cheer.
I am grateful for each friend I know, For shared sweet time and laughter’s glow. For every call that breaks the night, For caring hands that hold me tight.
I am grateful for this faithful heart, For healing stitched in every part. For lessons carved in joy and pain, For finding hope and strength again.
I am grateful for the love I see In simple gifts surrounding me. For breath, for peace, for all I am— I whisper thanks to life once again.
What is one thing you would change about yourself?
Advertisements say we must be a certain weight, height, shape and colour. People around helpfully chip in that if only we had this and that, we’d be “perfect.”
The world screams at us to look a certain way – wear this, not that, colour your hair, cover your imperfections, contour your face, hide your scars, blend in, smooth out, shrink down.
No one asks how we feel, what we like, what brings us joy, how our days are going, the fears we harbour quietly, and the disappointments we swallow because admitting them feels like giving up.
But no one pays attention to the human within – the burdens we carry, the weight we live with, the heart that’s bruised and scarred, the soul that wakes up each day despite the heaviness it holds, pretending we’re fine, smiling through storms, fighting battles no one sees, and facing darkness in silent, private ways.
We are more concerned with the external, and conveniently forget that the inside is barely holding itself together with fragile threads of hope.
But the internal world – that’s where the real stories lie. That’s where the truth of a person lives; their resilience, their tenderness, their courage, their grief, their becoming.
Everyone sees the surface – no one sees the story.
Even as the world cares more about the external, I’m learning to honour the inside – the parts of me no one sees, the light I keep rekindling, the hope that keeps resurfacing, the way I hold myself together when everything feels uncertain.
I wouldn’t change the softness, the endurance, or the scars. The frailties, the flaws – the pieces that make me human.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful, open-hearted mood. Today’s writing prompt is truly fascinating: “What is something others do that sparks your admiration?”
At first glance, it feels like an invitation to praise qualities we see in others. But, if we look deeper, the question becomes a mirror—it gently asks us what we value, celebrate, and aspire to become. What we admire in others reveals who we are.
As I pondered this prompt, several qualities surfaced almost instantly—kindness, resilience, patience, and honesty.
But admiration is a layered thing.
It isn’t always reserved for grand acts that make newspaper headlines; often, it’s the subtle, steady gestures of human goodness that leave the deepest mark.
So let’s walk together through a few of these remarkable traits that ignite admiration, often quietly and unexpectedly.
1. The Courage to Be Authentically Oneself
In a world shaped by endless expectations, comparison, and the constant performative hum of social media, nothing is more admirable than someone who dares to be authentically themselves.
These are the people who speak their truths gently, live their values sincerely, and refuse to shrink their individuality to fit into someone else’s mould.
Authenticity takes courage. It means showing up as you are, flaws and all, and still believing you belong.
It’s easy to mimic what society celebrates—it is far harder to express your genuine voice.
Whenever I meet people who do this, I instantly feel inspired. They remind me that the freedom to be real is one of life’s greatest gifts.
.2. The Resilience to Rise, Again and Again
Another quality that sparks deep admiration is resilience—that inner strength that helps people stand again after life knocks them down.
We all carry private battles, setbacks, heartbreaks, and disappointments. But some individuals rise with grace, carrying not bitterness, but wisdom. They don’t deny their pain; instead, they transform it into fuel for growth.
Resilience doesn’t always look heroic. Sometimes it’s just someone getting out of bed on a difficult morning.
Sometimes it’s a person rebuilding their life one tiny brick at a time. These quiet acts of endurance are deeply inspiring.
They remind us that strength doesn’t always roar; sometimes it whispers, “Try again.”
3. Acts of Kindness with No Witnesses
There is something profoundly admirable about people who practice kindness in its purest form—simple, unpublicized, unrecorded acts that come straight from the heart.
Whether it’s helping a stranger, listening empathetically, or offering warmth without expecting anything in return, kindness is a universal language that never goes unnoticed by the soul.
Some of the most admirable people are those who don’t announce their goodness—they simply live it.
Their gestures, small as they may seem, create ripples of compassion that spread quietly across the world. They remind us that kindness is not a performance; it is a habit of the heart.
4. The Joy of Lifelong Learning
I deeply admire those who remain students of life, even in adulthood. These are the people who read, explore, ask questions, seek new skills, challenge their beliefs, and embrace curiosity like a lifelong companion.
They aren’t threatened by not knowing something; instead, they are thrilled by the opportunity to grow.
This quality is admirable because it signals humility—an openness to transformation. Lifelong learners show us that growth is not linear or limited by age.
They prove that curiosity keeps the mind young and the spirit alive.
5. Emotional Generosity and Grace
Finally, I admire people who carry a sense of emotional generosity—those who forgive easily, listen deeply, and offer their presence without judgment.
In a world where misunderstandings and conflicts are common, emotional grace is a rare superpower.
These individuals create safe spaces around them. You feel lighter simply by being in their company.
They respond to anger with calm, confusion with clarity, and struggle with tenderness. Observing them teaches us that empathy is not weakness—it is wisdom.
Why This Prompt Matters
This prompt is more than a casual question. It forces us to reflect on the values we cherish—values that shape our behaviour, our relationships, and even our future selves.
When we identify what we admire in others, we indirectly identify what we want to nurture within ourselves.
Perhaps that is the quiet beauty of admiration: it doesn’t just tell us who inspires us—it tells us who we are becoming.
So, dear friends, may this reflection encourage you to look around with fresh eyes today. You may discover that admirable people are everywhere—in your family, your neighbourhood, your workplace, and sometimes even in the mirror.
Stay inspired, stay curious, and continue celebrating the goodness that shines quietly all around us.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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There are a couple of foods that I love but most others don’t.
The first is a green olive and Cheese Whiz sandwich. Don’t knock it til you try it!
The second is a peanut butter and cucumber sandwich. I saw my Dad eat this while growing up and assumed it was a normal thing to eat and that everyone ate it.
Came to find out later that actually no, it’s not very common and people generally find it an odd combination.
A continuation of my results with CineStill 400 on my Pentax K-1000 with 100mm macro lens.
I could only take so many photos of that apple in my backyard before self-doubt crept in and I felt like I was wasting film.
So I moved on to other conveniently located vegetation.
I nearly blinded myself in one eye attempting to frame the sun shining through the branches of this persimmon tree. f8, 1/60 sec.
Color reproduction is good, and there is definitely a halo of halation where the sun is breaking through. You can almost tell the shape of my aperture from the lens flare.
Then a sad, lonely dog toy caught my eye:
Don’t let his smile fool you. He’s crying on the inside… f5.6, 1/60 sec
I was so broken up over the abandoned dog toy I had to leave the backyard in order to cleanse my emotional palate. What better way than to revisit the sage (formerly thought to be heather) I’ve taken so many photos of?
The color reproduction is a bit off here. The Mexican sage (hope I remembered that correctly) is more of a lavender / purple color in real life. This leans almost reddish in comparison and results in a warm image. I like the balance of green, purple(ish), and orange from the tree leaves behind the sage. f5.6, 1/500 sec
This one just pops for me. Color is closer to reality, the back-lighting gives the edges of the sage a sharpness that draws the eye, and the muted blue of the sky further emphasizes the sage. f8, 1/250 sec
I just like this one because of the bee. I tried several times to catch him, and this one did. But it reminds me that when dealing with wildlife, you have much less control over your composition. f8, 1/250 sec
Next time: On the road with CineStill and my K-1000.
This poem celebrates everyday joy—blue skies, birdsong, kind strangers, and family moments—as the true “key to happiness,” showing that each new day is a fresh beginning filled with light and gratitude.
Enjoy the poem in simple and optimistic words that define a Happy Life.
The Key to Happiness #
Today I am happy and light, Everywhere I turn is bright. Blue sky smiling over me, Soft ground holding, worry-free.
Morning walk beneath the trees, Birds are singing with the breeze. Flowers burst in colours bold, Painting joy in red and gold.
When I meet a stranger’s eyes, Simple words can make me wise. Every face I chance to see Holds a little key for me.
At the dinner table, free, Family laughs surrounding me. Heart so light, no fear, no end, Life itself becomes my friend.
Now I know true happiness: Start each day with gratefulness. Every sunrise lets me see— A new beginning lives in me.
I thought long and hard on this statement. I’m still asking myself: are we living in such commercialized times that emotions have become a commodity? Is that what our feelings have come down to – just another product we can wear around?
When you look at it, so many of our festivals and celebrations are drifting away from their origins, where there was deeper understanding and genuine sentimental value. Take Valentine’s Day. It has become so commercialized, as if love can be found inside a teddy bear or an outrageously expensive gift. I have nothing against gifting – in fact, I enjoy picking out presents for my people. But Valentine’s Day is hyped to the point where it feels like no other day exists to express love.
And the focus is almost entirely on romantic love, not familial love, friendship, platonic bonds, sibling love, or even self-love. Companies know that among all the types of love, romantic love sells the most. Even with all the heartbreaks in the world, people don’t stop believing in love. When it comes to romantic love, there are gifts for both heartbreak and enduring love, and these emotions can be bottled and packaged in the cutest, most irresistible ways. However much the heart aches, if we see an emotion that resonates with our pain or voices what we feel in that moment, we won’t hesitate to buy and display it.
The same goes for Christmas. The festival is so commercialized that nowadays it feels like Christmas is only about gifts, shopping, and feasting. The true meaning of Christmas is forgotten or conveniently set aside. If there are no gifts, then somehow it’s not Christmas.
The consumerist culture is growing rapidly – it feels like a train going off the rails, but no one can stop it. We’re living in a world where emotions seem easily available in tiny jars: love, joy, happiness, courage, silence, clarity, anger, sadness. Feel something for the day? Just grab a bottle, dab, and forget. But we fail to read the warning label: could feel too much, too fast.
Today, we are learning to outsource our feelings. We avoid discomfort; in fact, sitting with it makes us uneasy. So we ignore it and move on to something that doesn’t ask us to feel so deeply. We’re always looking for shortcuts to healing instead of understanding the root of our pain and behaviour.
Why do we fear feelings so much? Why is the journey into self-discovery one we don’t proactively take unless life forces us into it?
Feel too much, and we get hurt. Feel too little, and we also get hurt. How do we overcome this dilemma? Is there a middle ground?
Or is the truth staring us in the face, and we simply don’t want to acknowledge it – that we don’t have to buy anything, that our emotions are letters the heart wrote but never sent? So we store them away in the deepest corners, forgotten yet waiting.
Perhaps what we need is to uncork ourselves, and let whatever spills become our healing.
Funny you should ask, I was thinking about this the other day. After my Friday “night out” to Meat Draw/Chase the Ace. I was actually pretty disappointed in myself. Disappointed in the way I was dreading going out and socializing instead of being excited about it. And then disappointed in myself for not really having that great of a time.
Sure, it was nice to see my coworkers in a social setting and talk about anything other than work, to get to know each other a bit better on a personal level. But I was different. It was different.
Where did the old me go? The one who loved any opportunity to go out, to be in crowds, to socialize with friends or complete strangers and consume alcohol beverages. What happened to her?
When I replayed Friday night in my head, the words “not my idea of a good time” came to mind, followed by “then what is your idea of a good time?” And I honestly don’t know.
If I answered quick, without really thinking about it I’d say not going out at all is my idea of a good time. Staying in, staying home makes me happy.
But wait, this is not me! I used to be a social butterfly and loved every second of it. I used to be the one organizing girls night out or any excuse for a night out on the town. I was the one coercing the introverts and the people who were opposed to going out, to go out! I couldn’t get enough.
Maybe age changed me. Being happy and content in my home changed me. Having a partner who’s happy and content at home changed me. Being a Mom to a little one all over again changed me. Being a Mom to young adults who are now the ones going out, changed me.
Life changed me. Either that or it’s a natural progression and not odd at all. Not a change but an evolution, an unbecoming. Or a becoming, depending on how you look at it.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and light-hearted mood. Today’s writing prompt instantly transported me back to the sunlit days of childhood as I read the question—“What’s your favorite cartoon?”
At first glance, it feels like a playful, almost innocent question. But the more I ponder it, the more I realise that it holds surprising depth.
Because in many ways, every individual is a cartoon in their own right—full of quirks, colors, exaggerated emotions, and unexpected twists in their personal storyline.
So let us take a nostalgic, thoughtful, and slightly philosophical journey into this seemingly simple question.
The Magic of Cartoons: More Than Childhood Entertainment
For most of us, cartoons were our first exposure to imagination. They taught us how to laugh loudly, dream boldly, and embrace the whimsical side of life.
Whether it was Tom chasing Jerry through the house or Mowgli dancing with Baloo in The Jungle Book, cartoons created a world where the impossible was ordinary.
They also gently carved our early emotional world:
Joy, when our favorite character triumphed
Fear, when the villain appeared
Empathy, when someone felt lonely
Triumph, when good overcame mischief
Long before we understood psychology or life lessons, cartoons were quietly shaping our character.
Why Choosing a Favorite Cartoon Is So Hard
When someone asks, “What’s your favorite cartoon?”, the answer doesn’t come easily—not because we lack options, but because each cartoon mirrors a different chapter of our lives.
Tom & Jerry taught us humor, persistence, and playful rivalry.
Spider-Man and Shaktimaan showed the courage of doing the right thing even when unnoticed.
Chhota Bheem and Doraemon gave us friendship, imagination, and comfort.
The Jungle Book gifted us belonging, adventure, and courage.
To choose one is to choose a memory, a feeling, a moment in time. And yet, one cartoon does stand out for me—a masterpiece of humor, artistry, and emotion: the evergreen, legendary Tom and Jerry.
The Timeless Charm of Tom and Jerry
To travel into the world of cartoons is to inevitably arrive at the doorstep of Tom and Jerry. This sensational, ageless show has lived in the hearts of viewers across generations.
And intriguingly, its roots go deeper when we consider the very origin of the word “cartoon.”
The term comes from the Italian word “cartone”, meaning a large sheet of paper used for sketches.
From these simple beginnings emerged an entire universe of visual storytelling—satire, caricature, animation, and ultimately, timeless entertainment.
The Magic of the Cat-and-Mouse Duo
Tom, the house cat with high ambitions, and Jerry, the mischievous mouse with a heart of gold, engage in a perpetual dance of wits. Their storyline is timeless: stealing, chasing, scheming, escaping—yet never truly harming one another.
And hidden within this chaos is a beautiful truth: Tom and Jerry are rivals, yet they are also inseparable companions.
Whenever danger appears, they unite seamlessly. Their bond is a reminder that some relationships defy definition—full of conflict, yet full of care.
For me, Jerry steals the show. His cleverness, charm, and cheeky energy always bring a smile. Through him, we learn that strength is not about size, but about spirit.
Every Individual Is a Cartoon
As I reflect on my favorite cartoon, an amusing thought takes shape—every individual is a cartoon.
Think about it:
We overreact to small things, just like characters whose eyes pop out in shock .
We bounce back from emotional “falls” with cartoon-like resilience.
We have quirks and imperfections that make us unique and lovable.
Some of us are calm like Baloo, some witty like Jerry, some dreamy like Winnie-the-Pooh, and some dramatic like Daffy Duck.
Life exaggerates us in hilarious, unexpected ways. It animates us with emotions, challenges, friendships, and adventures. In a sense, we are both the sketch and the storyline of our own cartoon.
Why This Prompt Matters
Why analyse such a light-hearted question so deeply? Because it invites us to explore three important aspects of ourselves:
1. Our Inner Child
No matter our age, our inner child still breathes within us—curious, hopeful, playful. Remembering cartoons reconnects us with that innocence.
2. Our Values and Personality
The cartoons we love often reflect what we cherish—friendship, humor, courage, creativity, imagination, mischief.
3. Our Emotional Memory
A favorite cartoon isn’t just a show—it is a piece of our childhood, tied to family, school days, Sunday mornings, shared laughter, and simpler times.
So, What’s My Favorite Cartoon?
If I have to choose, I choose Tom and Jerry—a show that taught me laughter, resilience, friendship, mischief, and the joy of clever simplicity. But in a deeper sense, my favorite cartoon is life itself—messy, colorful, unpredictable, and beautifully animated by the people in it.
Because perhaps the greatest truth is this: We don’t just watch cartoons—we become them in our imperfect, vibrant human journey.
My Final Submission
Whether your favorite is Tom & Jerry, Shinchan, Motu Patlu, Doraemon, or The Lion King, remember: cartoons brightened our days long before life became serious. They shaped our humor, dreams, relationships, and ability to find joy in little things.
So, the next time someone asks you, “What’s your favorite cartoon?”, smile—because your answer carries a piece of your identity, your memories, and your heart.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Before the photography mafia gets mad at me, the CineStill 400 was a gift.
For the uninitiated, CineStill bulk buys, chemically treats, and re-packages Kodak motion picture film and then sells it. It’s a complicated situation well beyond the scope of this post, but Kodak basically stopped selling this film to other re-spoolers, upsetting the film world and leading some to compare CineStill to Elon Musk (and not in a good way).
So there is a stigma, in certain circles, attached to continuing to use the film.
Like all hobbies, there are crazies at the extremes.
I like to think I’m not one of the crazies, just a “normie” who likes to shoot film.
As normie as someone who still shoots film can be, that is…
My family is even more clueless than me about film business etiquette and just went to a shop to buy me a gift I could shoot.
That didn’t involve gun powder.
(Though if you can develop film in coffee grinds, I bet you can develop it in gun powder too. Hmm…)
I digress.
My first experience with CineStill (bought by me before the Kodak controversy, or at least before I was aware of it) was underwhelming. It’s kinda famous for halation, which gives bright parts of the photo a sort of ethereal glow, but I didn’t get much of that and was disappointed in the results.
I would not have bought it again.
But this roll really surprised me. I may just have to risk the wrath of the photo mafia going forward.
These first shots were a revisit of an earlier set of pictures I took of an apple. People commented on it being “forbidden fruit” and the like, and I had an idea for a follow-up involving a hand desperately grasping for an out-of-reach apple.
This new effort involved my Pentax K-1000, my 100mm macro lens, a tripod, a mechanical timer, and a step stool.
First shot with counter at zero. I think these partial images are cool. f11, 1/60 sec
I was still trying to figure out how to handle my hand in the shot at this point. There are definite indications of halation. Yay? f11, 1/60 sec
I tried different things with my hand, different placements, motion blur, but once I saw them, I didn’t really like them. So here’s a close-up of just the apple, trying to capture the sheen. I did, but not as dramatically as in real life. f4, 1/1000 sec
The halation almost gives the apple an aura around the edges, or at the very least, a dropped-in-with-Photoshop-badly look. But it’s 100% real. I also wanted to capture part of the tree in the background, out of focus to add depth to the image. It’s…not something I’d put in my portfolio. If I had one. Which I don’t. f5.6, 1/500 sec
When I got this roll back from the lab, I was shocked. Some of the pictures were bright and vibrant and exceeded my previously set low expectations. These apple images aren’t the best ones, but they are the start of the roll.
रूह का सफ़र”—यह केवल शब्दों का संयोजन नहीं, बल्कि एक ऐसा आंतरिक अनुभव है जहाँ मन अपनी गहराइयों में उतरकर खुद से मिलता है। इस सफ़र में दुनिया की चमक-दमक, नाम-दौलत, रिश्तों की भाग-दौड़ सब पीछे छूट जाते हैं, और बस बचता है वह उजाला जो भीतर जल रहा होता है।
यह कविता उसी यात्रा का गीत है—अंतर की बेचैनी, दर्द की शिक्षा, और आत्मा की रोशनी को समर्पित।
रूह का सफ़र
रूह के सफ़र में ये दिल बे-क़रार है, बाक़ी जहाँ फ़ना है—यही बस करार है।
हर साँस कह रही है—चलो, आगे बढ़ो तुम, रास्ता चाहे कठिन हो, उसी में निखार है।
टहनी से टूटकर भी जो गिरा था कभी कहीं, उस फूल की महक में अभी तक बहार है।
दुनिया के मेले में क्यों ढूँढते हो खुद को तुम? अपने ही भीतर छुपा एक रूह का दयार है।
दिल पर जो चुभन लगी—वो भी ज़रूरी थी शायद, दर्द की इसी ज़मीं पर मोहब्बत की फ़सल तैयार है।
चेहरे बदल गए सब, और मौसम भी बदल गए, पर रूह की राह पर अब भी वही उजियार है।
खोया जो कुछ भी—जाने क्यों लगता है आज, सब कुछ मिटा तो क्या? सफ़र ही आधार है।
नाम, दौलत, शोहरत—सब हवा के खिलौने हैं, सच्चाई का दिया ही हर रात में सितार है।
बाक़ी जहाँ फ़ना है, — फ़ना हो के रह भी जाए, रूह का ये सफ़र ही मेरी सदा की पहचानदार है।
If coffee could talk, what secret would it spill about you?
My answer to today’s prompt is simple: ask a silly question, get a silly answer. Asking a non-vegetarian how they feel about meat is like asking a parched traveller if they’d like a glass of water – obvious, unnecessary, and slightly amusing.
Since it’s another repeat prompt and it’s a Monday – with all the Monday blues marching in, I figured we deserve something more lighthearted to start the work week.
If coffee could talk, I’m sure it would embarrass me all the way to kingdom come. Coffee has witnessed most of my antics and histrionics. Oh but I don’t recall ever drinking coffee while crying . Coffee magically dries up all the tears, and honestly, if someone cries while drinking coffee… that’s not coffee .
This takes me back to my junior year in college. I was still home then. Every evening after classes, my two friends and I would frequent restaurants for coffee. Small town life when cafés weren’t a thing yet. We’d always choose the back corners, fully aware that’s where couples preferred to sit . We were such brats. We gave them no peace or privacy and lingered around for as long as we possibly could, disturbing them just by existing.
As for me, no – I never picked corners on dates. In fact, I refused to sit next to a date. I’d always sit opposite. I still remember one guy who was offended (not blatantly, but you could tell) when I refused to sit beside him. He never asked me out again . I’ve always found it odd to sit next to someone when it’s just the two of us, though it seems to be the preferred style here.
And yes… there were times I went on dates just for the coffee, not the guy . That doesn’t mean I fleeced anyone. I always insist on paying – dates, friends, anyone. I’ve never been comfortable letting a guy pay for me.
I’m sure there are more coffee stories tucked away somewhere. But my Monday memory is operating at minimum capacity today.
“My personality is basically just caffeine and stories.”
I hope this blog finds you happy. Today’s writing prompt is simple but meaningful: “What positive events have happened in your life over the past year?”
As I reflected on this question, I realised that positivity is not always about big achievements or dramatic turning points.
More often, it is woven quietly into our routines—through small habits, renewed relationships, mindset shifts, inner healing, and unexpected blessings.
So here is my heartfelt reflection on the past year. I hope it inspires you to pause and acknowledge the gentle goodness that has walked beside you, too.
1. Rediscovering Consistency and Purpose
One of the most uplifting experiences this year was rediscovering my sense of purpose. It didn’t happen through a sudden revelation, but through a slow and steady return to consistency—especially in my work, writing, and personal disciplines.
After retirement, the challenge was not time—but direction. Life suddenly became quieter, and I had to learn how to fill my days with meaning rather than just routine.
Every day that I showed up—whether fully inspired or slightly confused—added a layer to my personal growth. This quiet discipline restored confidence I didn’t even realise I had misplaced.
Sometimes the most positive event is not a celebration, but a realisation: “I am capable of showing up for myself.”
2. Strengthening Relationships That Truly Matter
If the past year taught me anything, it is this—our genuine relationships are our real wealth.
During professional life, time often slipped away in deadlines, responsibilities, and obligations. I had little space to nurture friendships or even to give my family the attention they deserved.
But this year, something shifted.
– I reconnected with friends.
– I spent more meaningful moments with family.
– I understood the comfort of companionship—the healing power of a shared laugh, a warm message, an unexpected phone call.
Many old friendships revived themselves. New bonds formed naturally. I found myself surrounded not by a crowd, but by good people—the kind who inspire growth, offer honesty, and share positivity.
These were not loud events, but they were some of the most precious highlights of my year.
3. A Deeper Connection With Myself
This year also brought an internal shift. I learned to listen to myself more—my needs, my limits, my joys, and my aspirations.
As a retired person, I finally had the time to reflect without rushing, to rest without guilt, and to choose joy without hesitation.
This emotional clarity made life smoother and my decisions more aligned with my values.
Self-connection is not a one-time achievement; it is a lifelong journey. But this year marked an important milestone in that journey.
4. The Joy of Small Adventures
Not all adventures require packed bags and boarding passes.
Some unfold quietly in everyday moments—morning walks, discovering a new café, reading a surprising book, trying a new skill, or wandering through the same streets with a new sense of curiosity.
This year, I embraced these small adventures.
They reminded me that life is not made only of big events; it is stitched together by simple joys we often overlook.
5. Creative Growth and Personal Expression
Creatively, this year surprised me in the best ways. I wrote two books, expressed more, shared more, and interacted with many wonderful readers and writers.
Each poem, each blog, each conversation taught me something new about communication and human connection.
The true positive event wasn’t just “creating content”—it was realising that my words could resonate with someone, brighten a moment, or touch a heart.
Creativity is a blessing, and this year offered me plenty of it.
6. Moments of Spiritual and Mental Peace
In a world that often feels noisy, the moments of inner peace I experienced were nothing short of miracles.
Through meditation, quiet reflection, and simple prayers, I found small pockets of calm that felt like little celebrations of the soul.
And yes—another beautiful discovery was my growing love for art and painting. I may not be a professional artist, but every stroke of colour feels like meditation to me.
These moments give me immense pleasure, and sometimes I lovingly call it: “Art and Me—The Artist Within.”
These peaceful moments may not appear in photo albums, but they shaped the essence of my year.
Why This Question Truly Matters
And finally, when we ask, “What positive events have taken place in the past year?” We are actually asking:
“Where did life choose to be kind to me, quietly and consistently?”
This question isn’t merely about listing achievements. It is about recognising the light that enters our lives even during uncertain times.
For me, the past year was not perfect, but it was full—of lessons, love, peace, creativity, spiritual moments, and inner renewal.
As you read this, I hope you, too, reflect on your year. You may be surprised by how many blessings are hiding in your ordinary days.
Please acknowledge them, cherish them, and carry that gratitude forward.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Lately, a few words keep coming back to me. Are they echoing the secrets hidden in the innermost part of the heart? – Remember – Stillness – Show up – Be like water
Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can’t go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does. ~Margaret Atwood
In the silent corridors of our days, emotions move like soft lanterns—sometimes bright, sometimes dim, but always present.
They shape our inner landscape in ways we rarely notice, turning moments into memories and memories into delicate threads of who we are. . This poem explores those quiet shifts of the heart—the whispers, the pauses, the small things that suddenly feel immense.
# Where Emotion Lives #
Emotions are the quiet lamps that light our breathing days; without them, life becomes a shadow passing by our side.
Sometimes they rest on our shoulders with the softness of a smile, sometimes they settle on the doorstep of our eyes as trembling tears— and sometimes, all at once, they vanish in the dark, leaving us wandering through the emptiness inside us.
Their weave is so delicate— a single name drifting in the air can make the heart forget the rhythm it knows so well.
At midnight, when the window lets in a hush of wind, a faint rustle, an unspoken ache tapping gently— and then that silence, folding the whole room into its quiet embrace.
In some forgotten corner your abandoned bracelet glimmers— silent, like you, yet holding within it a thousand untold stories.
Isn’t it strange— how relationships bloom not from noise but from a soft fragrance, a quiet breath, a small forgotten thing that suddenly comes alive again?
From these fragile threads we weave ourselves each day— sometimes whole, sometimes broken, yet always capable of feeling.
For where emotion lives, life breathes— and where life breathes, there we all are truly alive.
I believe we’d have to refer to last year’s answer to check my favourites – I don’t think those have changed, clothes-wise. But as of today, I’d go with something a little different…
What I wear depends on the days. Sometimes I wear smiles, other days frowns. Some days come with tears, and other days with boundless laughter.
There are days when the heart feels heavy, and yet some are lit with clarity. Some days spark with fire, while some hold nothing but fatigue and weariness.
Regardless of how the day unfolds, and what I’m led to clothe myself in, one quality remains constant as I rise each day – my heart speaks gratitude for whatever comes my way.
With the tree going up and Christmas around the corner, I’m thinking of challenging Santa – let’s see who ho-ho-ho’s louder this season.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and thoughtful mood. Today’s writing prompt nudged me into a space of gentle introspection: “What is one thing you would change about yourself?”
At first glance, it seems like one of those simple, self-improvement questions we casually toss around. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized that this question invites us into a quiet conversation with our truest selves.
It asks us to step into the mirror—not to judge, but to understand. Not to condemn, but to grow.
Self-change is an interesting concept. On one hand, we are constantly evolving without even noticing it—through experiences, conversations, heartbreaks, triumphs, and even the ordinary rhythm of daily life.
On the other hand, intentional change feels like a courageous commitment to becoming a better version of ourselves.
So when I reflect on this prompt, one thing clearly stands out—a change I have long wished for, quietly, almost privately.
want to develop greater patience
If I could change one thing about myself, I would want to develop greater patience—with others, with situations, and most importantly, with myself.
Patience may sound like a small trait, almost too simple to stand at the center of a deep reflection.
But the older I grow, the more I see how profound and transformative patience truly is. It is not just the ability to wait; it is the ability to wait with grace.
It is the discipline of staying calm when life runs late, when people disappoint us, when situations take unexpected turns, and when our own progress feels painfully slow.
There have been countless moments when impatience has made life harder than it needed to be. I have rushed into decisions because I feared missing opportunities.
I have expected immediate results from long-term efforts. I have been frustrated with myself for not learning fast enough, not achieving soon enough, not improving quickly enough.
And every time, I have realized that impatience steals the joy of the journey and magnifies the weight of the moment.
But what would patience change for me? Almost everything.
First, patience brings emotional clarity.
When we pause before reacting, the world appears in softer colours. We notice more. We understand more. We speak more kindly.
I’ve seen how easy it is to misinterpret a situation when emotions rush ahead of reason, and how often a moment of stillness could save a conversation, a relationship, or even a decision.
Second, patience strengthens relationships.
Whether with friends, family, colleagues, or strangers, patience is the quiet respect we offer to others.
It is the understanding that people grow at their own pace, make mistakes, struggle with unseen battles, and sometimes fail us—not because they want to, but because they are human.
Patience, purest forms of kindness
I have come to believe that patience is one of the purest forms of kindness.
Third, patience shifts the way we view ourselves. Instead of criticising our shortcomings, we begin to honour our efforts.
Instead of rushing to the finish line, we learn to appreciate the step-by-step rhythm of growth.
For me, this change would mean embracing the idea that I am allowed to take time, to learn slowly, to evolve steadily, and to celebrate small victories without embarrassment.
Patience deepens gratitude.
And finally, patience deepens gratitude. When we slow down, life reveals its subtleties—sunlight through curtains, a warm cup of tea, a heartfelt conversation, a quiet walk, an unexpected compliment, a new lesson learned.
These moments often hide behind speed, and patience is the key that uncovers them.
But acknowledging the change I want is only the beginning. Living it is the true challenge.
I am learning to practice small rituals—like pausing before responding, breathing deeply when frustration rises, stepping back when confusion fogs my mind, and reminding myself that timing is not always in my control.
Growth is rarely loud.
Growth is rarely loud. Often it is slow, gentle, and almost invisible. And that is perfectly okay.
I share this reflection not to present myself as someone lacking, but as someone becoming.
Perhaps that is the beauty of this prompt—it reminds us that wanting to change something does not mean we are inadequate.
It simply means we are aware. It means we are alive. It means we care about who we are becoming.
Dear friends, if you were to ask yourself the same question—What is one thing you would change about yourself?—I hope you answer it with kindness.
Change is not a punishment; it is an invitation. And sometimes, the smallest shift in who we are creates the biggest shift in how we live.
Until next time, may you continue to grow, gently and patiently.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I didn’t really spend any time in nature itself but I was out in the wild last night, the wild that is the Legion Hall for Meat Draw and Chase the Ace.
I realize that’s about as Canadian/rural/? remote sounding as it gets but hey, it’s almost all we got.
I hesitantly agreed to this, (half) a night out on the town about a week ago. Meat draw. This is actually what people do for entertainment and socialization. It starts early, to get a seat you need to be there by 5 pm. The place was packed.
What’s a meat draw you ask? You buy strips of tickets and the Legion Hall members/employees do six draws for each strip of tickets and what you’re trying to win is meat. Seriously. I went home with a whole chicken! One of my tickets was drawn.
Now I really had no idea how this all worked before I got there. I had been one time before but probably close to ten years ago. And for some reason I don’t even recall the experience.
It’s an interesting atmosphere. A bar scene-ish, alcohol beverages are being sold, people are playing the slot machines that line the walls. People are laughing, joking and visiting and it’s very very loud.
Yet all the lights are on and there’s absolutely no music playing. It’s so bizarre.
On top of the meat draw there’s Chase the Ace. The pot was over $35 000. Chase the Ace involves buying strips of tickets and in just one draw, you hope they call one of your ticket numbers, at which time you go up to the front and pick a card. There were 18 cards left, there’s one less each week and the pot grows if nobody claims it. The card you need to pick is the ace of spades. And then bam, $35 000 in your pocket.
I spent $90 and went home with a chicken. It was wild.
Days are short, nights are long up north this time of year, view from near my office at 3:58 pm
When we got home yesterday, only Big Daddy screeched for peanuts in the backyard.
Little Lady was nowhere to be seen, and Big Daddy kept screeching long after I’d left peanuts out.
I was a little worried for Little Lady and fearful Big Daddy was forlornly calling out for his lost love.
I needn’t have worried.
Little Lady was the one screeching solo this morning.
Joined by Big Daddy once I was out the front door.
Only three crows on the walk, and I was left with the impression that three was definitely a crowd.
One of the cheeky bastards followed me for more peanuts while having two already crammed in his beak!
There were some interlopers, too.
Two gulls, circling low, watching but not interfering.
An uneasy peace as a crow settles in to watch the watchers…
Beautiful flowers are still present, but less abundant as the weather turns.
And once home, a jarring change.
No, not the Missus crying with her bags packed and a taxi waiting.
How apropos, given today’s prompt…
I’m not sure how I feel about this. The Missus kindly (??) had it all set up and ready to pour by the time I was up, so not much of a ritual.
Tell me you’re old without telling me…One does one’s best with the materials at hand…
Phone is on Do Not Disturb (autocorrect wanted “So Not Disturb” and I was loathe to … correct it), meaning I missed a call from a dealership trying to convince me to trade in our mini van for a new one.
What technology would you be better off without and why?
Everything. The idiot box isn’t just the TV anymore – we’ve miniaturized it and carry it everywhere, becoming a bit more idiotic with it too. I could definitely do without every gadget… unfortunately, that’s just a fantasy.
Last night I thoroughly enjoyed Max Amini. I haven’t laughed till my jaws hurt in a long time. He got to experience our traffic and discovered that although we do have lanes, they’re mostly just a suggestion – or a color on the road. A two-lane road easily holds four cars, plus motorists, auto rickshaws, and potholes. You simply can’t compete with our driving skills.
He even had another Sukhdeep (he says suck deep/dick ) story. That’s the actual name of one of his fans, a fan who apparently loves Max from “the heart of his bottom.” Apparently, he has two hearts, and one is at the bottom. Max also danced to two Indian songs. I doubt he does that anywhere else. When in Rome huh…
This morning, we went for a dear friend’s daughter’s thirteenth birthday party. Since she’s entering teen-hood, it had to be extra special. It was a lovely celebration, and we were glad to be part of it.
Then, returning home, we barely caught a breather before stepping out again. It felt like we hadn’t done much, yet the day was suddenly over. I barely glanced at my phone – only when I had to. And now here I am, sitting to write while also sneaking a peek at a K-drama. It’s a good one, about middle-age employment and how companies treat people as disposable.
Honestly, I didn’t miss much by not using technology today. The day felt better. But when I finally used it, I ended up pointlessly multitasking and tiring my eyesight. I’m not even sure what I’m writing now, it’s been a lomg day and I’m drained. So much for staying away from technology all day… only to overstimulate myself when I didn’t need to.
This poem is a gentle goodbye to absence, — looking at how spaces, objects, and time hold the memory of someone who is no longer here.
It expresses the pain of remembering, feelings of longing, and the gradual journey to breathe in a world changed by loss.
Air Without You #
When you were here, the clocks would sing, Now every tick forgets the spring. The minutes fall like silent rain Across the floor that holds our pain.
Your coat still waits, its sleeves at rest, As if your arms might cross my chest. I press my face where warmth once stayed And breathe a scent that slowly fades.
The night leans in with careful eyes To watch my small, unanswered sighs. I light a lamp against the skies— Its fragile glow, my thin disguise.
I feel your breath in fields of blue While I learn air without your view. Each breath I take feels strange, unsure— A quiet life that’s lost its cure.
Woke up dirt early for no discernible reason, drove for about four hours with the Missus, Kiddos, and Doggo, then after unpacking I went into work to fix something that took less than five minutes but required my presence.
The drive to work round trip was about 30 minutes…
Sigh.
When did the holidays become so stressful?
But now, hopefully, I’ll finally get to start my (truncated) long weekend.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and ready for a little adventure—albeit a virtual one.
Today’s writing prompt is a fascinating one: “Do you ever see wild animals?”
At first glance, it may sound like a simple question. Many of us live in busy cities where the most “wild” creatures we spot are squirrels, pigeons, or the occasional stray dog.
But the question goes deeper. It asks us to reflect on our connection with nature, the thrill of unexpected encounters, and the fragile balance between our world and the untamed one that still exists beyond our windows.
When I first read the prompt, my mind travelled back to a particular day—my visit to Bengal Safari—a day when I saw wild animals not behind screens or in books, but alive, moving freely through a forest.
It is this experience I would like to share with you.
Escaping the Summer Heat
The day had begun under an unforgiving summer sun. The heat was so intense that stepping outside felt like stepping into a furnace. All of us at home were exhausted, confined indoors, longing for a breath of fresh, cool air.
Amid this monotony and discomfort, my little granddaughter came up with the perfect idea: “Let’s go on a jungle safari!”
Her suggestion was a breath of fresh air in itself. “Wandering in the woods,” as she called it, sounded like the ideal escape.
And what better destination than the Bengal Safari, a sprawling wildlife park located not far from my home?
The Buzz of the Wild
We visited the park on a Sunday, and excitement buzzed everywhere. Families gathered at the entrance, children hopping with anticipation at the thought of seeing Bengal’s magnificent animals.
Bengal Safari is home to a rich variety of wildlife—most notably the majestic Royal Bengal Tiger, India’s pride, alongside the elusive leopard, the clever black bear, herds of deer, and over 300 species of birds.
Two rivers, Teesta and Mahananda, border the sanctuary, casting an aura of untamed beauty over the entire landscape.
But our excitement met a small obstacle—every safari slot was booked.
Just as disappointment began to sink in, the universe intervened. A last-minute cancellation freed exactly three seats—just enough for us.
Perhaps luck, perhaps destiny, but surely a hint that the wild had something special in store for us that day.
Into the Heart of the Forest
Our guide welcomed us warmly. He shared insights about the forest and its inhabitants, explaining why elephant rides—once a major attraction—had been discontinued for safety reasons.
His stories of earlier playful encounters between wild and domesticated elephants were both amusing and enlightening.
Soon, our safari vehicle rattled into the dense foliage. The forest surrounded us like a green cathedral.
Sunlight filtered through towering Sal trees, birds chirped unseen, monkeys cackled overhead, and leaves crackled beneath our wheels. It was a symphony of wilderness—raw, alive, and spellbinding.
A Royal Encounter
As we ventured deeper, suspense began to build.
Would we see the tiger?
Just when doubt began to creep in, the forest parted in a moment of dramatic magic. Out strode a Royal Bengal Tiger, its orange coat glowing, its black stripes etched like ink against the green backdrop.
It paused, glanced towards us with calm authority, and walked on.
A shiver ran through me, but our guide’s steady reassurance allowed us to savour the moment fully. It was not just a sighting—it was an encounter with the soul of the forest.
A Whirlwind of Wildlife
The next ten minutes offered a cascade of awe-inspiring moments.
A black bear lumbered past our vehicle, then vanished among the trees.
A leopard, sleek and silent, emerged like a whisper, only to slip away as quickly as it came.
A herd of deer grazed peacefully under a sunlit patch, their gentle eyes watching us without fear.
And then, like colourful jewels, peacocks appeared—tails fanned out, shimmering in the afternoon sun.
The air echoed with the calls of hundreds of birds, each adding its note to the forest’s music. Watchtowers rose in the distance, silent sentinels of the wild.
Unfortunately, a phone call informed me that guests had arrived at home, prompting us to cut the adventure shorter than we wished. Yet, the forest had already given me more than I could have hoped for.
A Lesson in Conservation
One detail touched me deeply—the park’s partnership with local communities. Villagers worked as guides, storytellers, and cultural ambassadors.
Their songs, dances, and knowledge added a human heartbeat to the wilderness. It was a reminder that conservation thrives when local people feel connected to the land.
A Journey to Remember
Leaving Bengal Safari, I felt refreshed, humbled, and grateful. Someone once said, “Travel rewires the brain,” and this visit certainly did.
It reinforced my love for wildlife and deepened my appreciation for the fragile harmony we share with nature.
So, do I ever see wild animals? Yes—and each sighting reminds me how alive, mysterious, and beautiful the world truly is.
If you ever feel the call of the wild, answer it. Visit Bengal Safari or any place where nature still breathes freely.
Who knows? You may encounter a tiger, hear the forest sing, or simply lose yourself in the quiet magic of the woods—a memory that will stay with you long after you leave.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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A mother who catches shrimps
Yesterday, my niece from a cousin informed us that there was a big flood, and she worried about my eldest sister’s goats, who were pastured on the rivershore. This flood was a surprise because we didn’t have rain in the lowland, only in the tall mountain surrounded us, and it’s alarming sometimes for this incident.
A boy and a net
My sister commands me to get the goats since she’s busy in the toilet. She always does things at her own pace, even in an emergency. So, Hazel was a little stubborn at first , but I was thinking of the goats’ safety; thus, without telling her, I wore Papa’s boots and went in the river.
The goats were pretty calm, eating grasses in the riverside when I arrived there. Of course, they didn’t understand the danger of the flood. Besides, my neighbors were catching fish and shrimp nearby, so I was a little relieved. The scene brings back memories of my childhood, when the family caught their viand.
Mama did this thing decades ago, as the mother in the photo and video is doing. And we, sisters, picked the shrimps and crabs she gets, and it was fun picking the jumping river creatures.
I realized how time has changed so many things, but thankfully, I still enjoy watching those relatable scenes from my neighbors’ work. Those experiences in my childhood taught me a lot, and they shaped me as a person.
It’s the weekend again! Have a blessed Saturday, my amazing readers. Thank you so much!
A little poem about love in its simplest, sweetest moments—when a smile, a touch, or a glance makes the world feel new.
It’s a celebration of intimacy and connection, where time slows, and two hearts find home in each other, under the quiet magic of the stars.
# Just You and Me #
Your smile sneaks in, a little light, Turns the dark into something bright. Your hand finds mine, my heart skips too, The world feels new, just me and you.
A laugh, a sigh, a whispered tune, We dance together beneath the moon. No need for words, no need for rush, Time slows its steps with every hush.
So let the stars peek, soft and shy, We’ll watch them wink across the sky. With every glance, with every kiss, I find my home in simple bliss.
What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?
Oh there are plenty, I can’t even remember them now. But recently, whether to go or not go for the Max Amini show . Yes, he’s here. I’m excited to watch him live in a few hours . I seriously need a few good laughs which is not from some silly video . Thankfully, the tickets are reasonable. It’s a sold out show too. Made a good call eh.
Oops, I’m not apologizing for not answering this question. It’s done and dusted. Because it’s Friday, I was going through little girl’s drawings and how they have evolved. Sharing a few
I hope this blog finds you smiling and in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt made me pause and reflect: “Are you more of a night or morning person?”
It seems like a simple question, doesn’t it? But the more I think about it, the more I realize it says a lot about how we live, think, and even feel.
In our fast-paced, screen-lit world, this question has become surprisingly relevant.
Some of us thrive under the quiet magic of dawn, while others find our energy and creativity in the mysterious glow of moonlight.
Morning Larks vs. Night Owls
Science classifies people broadly into two chronotypes: morning larks and night owls. Morning larks wake with the sun and greet the day with focus and energy. For them, early hours are a treasure—a time for planning, reflection, and getting a head start on life. Studies show that early risers often experience better mental clarity and steadier energy levels during the day. Their productivity peaks in the calm hours before the world fully awakens.
Night owls, by contrast, are energized when most of the world is winding down. Their minds come alive when the sky darkens, making the night a playground for creativity, introspection, and imagination. Without daytime distractions, their thoughts flow freely, and bursts of inspiration often arrive unannounced. Writers, artists, and thinkers throughout history have sung the praises of late nights for a reason—there’s a unique kind of magic when the world sleeps and your mind dances in quiet freedom.
My Personal Journey
I’ve been both a night owl and a morning lark at different points in life. During my student years, night-time was my friend. Exams, projects, and deadlines pushed me into late-night study sessions. There was something almost sacred about the quiet after midnight: the hum of a desk lamp, the pages of a book turning, and the feeling that nothing could disturb my focus. For a while, I thrived in that nocturnal rhythm—but eventually, my body reminded me that it wasn’t sustainable. Fatigue, insomnia, and the occasional bout of illness were gentle nudges (or sometimes harsh pushes) to reconsider.
After retirement, mornings began to feel magical. Waking up early, I am greeted by the soft golden glow of sunrise, the songs of birds, and a stillness that seems made for reflection. These hours offer:
Mental Clarity: Fewer distractions make it easier to plan the day or set goals.
Health Boosts: Morning walks or gentle exercises energize the body and mind.
Time for Reflection: Moments for journaling, meditation, or simply sipping tea in silence.
Mornings now feel like a gift—a soft, gentle nudge to start fresh every day.
Finding the Balance
Yet, life isn’t always so tidy. Some nights demand work, creativity, or inspiration that stretch into the wee hours. Some mornings arrive with errands, visits, or spontaneous adventures. I’ve learned that rather than rigidly identifying as a lark or an owl, it’s wiser to adapt. If an early appointment awaits, I make it a point to sleep early. If a burst of creativity strikes at midnight, I embrace it, knowing I can balance my schedule the next day.
Tips I’ve found useful:
Prioritize Sleep: Aim for 7–8 hours, even if your schedule varies.
Follow a Routine: Consistent sleep and wake-up times stabilize energy levels.
Listen to Your Body: Honor your natural rhythms without guilt.
Limit Screen Time at Night: Reduce blue-light exposure for restful sleep.
Why This Matters
Understanding whether you are naturally a morning person or a night owl helps you live in harmony with your body and mind. Forcing a night owl to rise at dawn can be exhausting. Forcing a morning lark to stay up late can be frustrating. When we honor our rhythms, life feels smoother, healthier, and even more joyful.
Morning people often enjoy structure, preparation, and a sense of control. Night people embrace creativity, reflection, and freedom. Neither is better—they’re simply different ways of experiencing the world.
A Gentle Reflection
So, dear friends, whether you rise with the sun or dream under the stars, honor your rhythm. Both mornings and nights hold their own magic. Mornings bring clarity, calm, and fresh beginnings. Nights bring introspection, inspiration, and quiet wonder. Both have their place in life, and both deserve our appreciation.
Where do you fit on this spectrum—morning birds, midnight owls, or something in between? Our habits, our energy, and our stories reflect who we are. Sharing them is a beautiful way to connect and celebrate the rhythm of life we each follow.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Women can be and are as independent as men. Don’t treat me like a damsel in distress unless I need you to or tell you to.
If I leave no other legacy for my girls, the single most important thing I would want them to know and practice, is to be able to stand on their own two feet.
Women don’t need men for much. I’m not just saying that to be feministic bitch. In fact I don’t consider myself a feminist. But in all reality both men and women need to be able to take care of themselves. Make money, pay bills, hunt, cook, forage, etc etc. Well that’s taking it a bit far really.
On the flip side, there are times when being ladylike is required and in the case of hunting, unless it’s for sourcing actual food to eat and survive, let’s leave that to the men, ladies. It’s not that we CAN’T do it, it’s just not really necessary. A tad barbaric and there’s nothing feminine about it.
There, I said it.
Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends south of the border!! (We had ours at the proper time, 6 weeks ago lol)
Me trying to be funny, Tyrell Museum in Drumheller, 2010-ish
This morning I was called to ponder on death. Not exactly a topic one wants to think about, especially when it’s a time for Thanksgiving. But when you really sit with it, perhaps it’s even more fitting – to be thankful that we are alive, that we have another day to cherish moments, redo, love with abandon and without reservation, freely extend forgiveness and grace, serve, help, be a little kinder, reach out, and show up.
These are the dashes that create significance between our birth and death.
Linda Ellis captures this beautifully in her poem The Dash, a piece that makes me pause and rethink how I’m living:
I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on the tombstone from the beginning…to the end.
He noted that first came the date of birth and spoke the following date with tears, but he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time that they spent alive on earth. And now only those who loved them know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not, how much we own, the cars…the house…the cash. What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.
So, think about this long and hard. Are there things you’d like to change? For you never know how much time is left that can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough to consider what’s true and real and always try to understand ?the way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger and show appreciation more and love the people in our lives like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect and more often wear a smile, remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.
?So, when your eulogy is being read, with your life’s actions to rehash… would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent YOUR dash?
I’ve often wondered what would be spoken in my eulogy. I hope the dashes in my life are worthy enough to be eulogised.
This Thanksgiving, I am grateful to still have a heart that loves, eyes that perceive good, ears that hear truth, a mouth that speaks justice and grace, hands that reach out and hug, legs strong enough to enable me to run toward suffering. A body, soul, and mind that are human enough for imperfection – but centered enough to see beyond the moment.
You’d be forgiven for thinking Thanksgiving was a holiday (in the US).
But you would be wrong.
Instead of sleeping in this morning, I’m up at 7:20 (OK, still technically sleeping in, barely) dealing with work texts, logging in to my email to discover nothing I suggested last night was actually done, and disturbing my direct reports on this holiday to see if they could help.
I just realized. I’ve dragged my direct reports into stuff on their days off.
Life is a quiet teacher, sometimes gentle, sometimes harsh, yet always guiding us toward growth.
“Thank You, My Life” is a tribute to every moment, every person, and every experience that has shaped who we are. It’s a reflection on gratitude—for the joys, the struggles, the friendships that stayed, and even those that parted ways.
This poem is an offering of thanks to life itself, a reminder that every step, tear, and triumph contributes to the beauty of our journey.
Thank You, My Life
Thank you, my Life, for every day, For gentle light that finds its way. For storms that passed and skies that cleared, For all the strength I never feared.
Thank you to the friends who stayed, For their quiet love they softly gave. And for the ones who chose to part— They still left lessons in my heart.
Thank you for each trying hour, For hidden grace in pain’s sharp shower. For broken pieces turned to gold, For stories I have yet to hold.
Thank you for the whispered hope, For helping me to learn and cope. For every tear that made me see The deeper truth inside of me.
Thank you for the roads I crossed, For every win and every loss. For new beginnings born from ends, For all the ways my spirit mends.
Thank you, my Life—for all I’ve learned, For every page and corner turned. And as I breathe this moment through, I walk with gratitude—so kind of you.
Thank you, my Life—for all I’ve learned, For every page and corner turned. And as I breathe this moment through, I walk with gratitude—thank you, too.
Do you or your family make any special dishes for the holidays?
Well, I have to refer to last year’s response. At my parents’ place, yes, special dishes were always made. And by “we,” I actually meant they. I only crowd the kitchen and provide commentary. That’s my role.
This question reminded me of a dinner we attended, completely unrelated to holidays, but definitely related to food.
A dear family friend had invited us over. Every time we visit home and if he’s in town, he makes sure we eat at his place at least once. No matter how many people turn up, it’s always a feast.
As usual, we arrived famished and ready to devour every delectable dish. Now, for us, chutney and pickles are essential – and chutneys always involve raw chopped chillies. One of the boys helping out made it since he’s good with that. He had already added a generous amount of chillies, but when he tasted it, he thought it was too bland, lacking heat.
So his brilliant mind decided to add more. A lot more.
We later found out he had used one hundred chillies.
Even my mum who consumes chillies like they’re snacks, admitted this one had way too much heat.
Our mouths were on fire. It felt like flames were shooting out of our eyes, nose, and ears. But we relished the food anyway, and that chutney elevated the experience and became a memory we still laugh about.
And honestlly, it wasn’t just our mouths that burned that day. Let’s just say the fire spread to other parts the next day.
As for the boy who made it? He agreed it was hot, but not blaring fire. I still wonder what his stomach is made of, and whether his taste buds function normally.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt asks a simple yet deeply personal question: “Do you have a favorite place you have visited? Where is it?”
If we pause for a moment, we realise that our favourite place is never just a destination—it is a feeling, a memory, a moment of connection that lingers long after the journey ends.
Among all the places I’ve been fortunate to explore, one stands apart for its spiritual warmth, timeless charm, and the way it makes my heart feel at home.
That place is Vrindavan, the sacred land where mythology, devotion, and nature weave together into a living tapestry of divine love.
A Road Washed Clean by Rain
One fine morning, a sudden downpour brought much-needed relief, washing the world with a fresh calmness.
It felt like nature itself had given a sign—an invitation—to step out and embrace a small adventure. My son, with his usual infectious enthusiasm, immediately suggested a visit to Vrindavan.
Within minutes, excitement filled our hearts. We packed lightly, carried our curiosity, and set off on the two-hour drive.
As we approached this fabled town, something within us began to quiet down. Vrindavan isn’t just a city; it is an experience, an emotion.
It sits gracefully along the sacred Yamuna River, adorned with vibrant temples, ancient groves, and stories whispered across centuries—the playful tales of Krishna and the eternal love of Radha.
Stepping Into the Playground of the Gods
The moment I stepped out of the car, Vrindavan greeted me with its familiar chaos—yet a chaos filled with devotion.
Temple bells clanged rhythmically, devotional chants echoed through narrow lanes, and the air vibrated with a spiritual energy that felt both powerful and welcoming.
Colourful shops lined the streets, offering garlands, incense, and sacred souvenirs. The sweet aroma of jasmine, rose petals, and sandalwood drifted through the air, reminding us of the offerings made at countless shrines.
It felt as though the entire town was wrapped in an invisible blanket of devotion.
A Glimpse of Divinity: The Banke Bihari Temple
Our first stop was the famous Banke Bihari Temple, one of the most cherished landmarks of Vrindavan.
At 10 o’clock, the temple courtyard was already buzzing with devotees. The intricately carved façade stood proudly, reflecting centuries of craftsmanship and devotion.
Inside, the sacred tradition of jhalak darshan unfolded—where the silken curtain is gently drawn aside for just a few fleeting moments, allowing devotees a glimpse of the self-manifested idol of Krishna.
This rhythm of unveiling and veiling adds a mystical charm, as though Krishna’s darshan is a divine game of hide-and-seek.
Amidst the crowd, something remarkable happened. A coolness, a serenity, settled over everyone.
As we moved along with the throng of devotees, chanting and soaking in the spiritual fervour, our worldly worries seemed to melt away.
For those few moments, we were not just visitors—we were participants in something pure, ancient, and deeply uplifting.
Nidhivan’s Enigmatic Secrets
Our journey continued to the mysterious Nidhivan, a sacred grove woven with legends. As a follower of Krishna and Radha, this spot holds a special corner in my heart.
The grove, filled with unusually twisted Tulsi trees growing in pairs, has always been a subject of wonder.
Our guide narrated the fascinating folklore surrounding Nidhivan:
The Nightly Raas Leela: It is believed that every night, Krishna and Radha descend to dance the Raas Leela, surrounded by the Gopis.
Trees That Come Alive: The Tulsi trees are said to transform into Gopis, joining the divine celebration.
The Celestial Chambers: Each evening, a bed is prepared with offerings—food, water, and ornaments. By morning, these items appear disturbed, as though used during the night.
No Mortal Allowed After Sunset: No human or animal is allowed inside Nidhivan after dusk. It is believed that witnessing the divine Raas Leela can lead to severe consequences.
Standing amidst the paired Tulsi trees, listening to these stories, we felt an indescribable mixture of awe and reverence.
It was as though the air itself guarded secrets far beyond human understanding.
A Quiet Pause in a Magical Town
Though not a vast forest, Nidhivan offers a peaceful retreat within its boundaries. Small temples and sacred spots quietly mark the area.
Visitors come throughout the day—but by 7 PM, everyone leaves. Even birds and monkeys, it is said, do not stay overnight.
By the time we stepped out, our hearts were filled with wonder, and our minds danced with the magic of Vrindavan’s stories.
Why Vrindavan Is My Favourite Place
In answering the prompt question—Do you have a favourite place you have visited?—Vrindavan stands tall in my memory.
It is not just because of the temples or myths, but because of how the place makes me feel: lighter, calmer, connected to something eternal.
Vrindavan is a place where devotion meets beauty, where legend touches life, and where every visit feels like a homecoming.
To continue this divine journey with me, please follow me for the next blog.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I shot a roll of Phoenix II 200 in medium format on my Ricohflex Dia.
I’m not going to bury the lead.
I want to get through this series so I can move on to the next film I shot with, because for no good reason, I feel compelled to post about the different rolls of film I’m shooting in the order I shoot them.
And there is no good reason to dawdle on this version of Phoenix II.
I thought that between the two versions, 35mm and 120mm, that the 120mm would win handily.
But none (or maybe only one) of these shots turned out.
Unlike the 35mm version, which I metered at ISO 160 instead of 200, I metered this at the box value (200).
And thank goodness for that! If I had metered at 160 or, as the camera shop recommended, 100, the pictures would have been even more overexposed.
Now to be fair to the film, the weather was party cloudy and windy, and I was using Sunny 16. So the light kept shifting as the clouds crossed the sun.
But given that almost every shot was overexposed, I’m not going to let my exposure settings take all of the blame.
I decided to try and duplicate some of the pictures I took with the 35mm version of Phoenix II so I could do a proper comparison.
Which means I returned to the industrial park / pond near where I work.
This one looks OK. Maybe a tad dark, and sure the background is pitch black in places, but the water is well-defined. Maybe with a slight exposure adjustment… f16, 1/200 sec
I wanted a longer exposure to soften the water, and I had to deal with the sun disappearing behind a cloud, but holy sh*t! I’m blind! I am almost certainly partially responsible for this freak show of a shot, but note that the background detail is fairly well exposed. f4, 1/50 sec
Now the lighting changed between these two photos, and I attempted to compensate for that, but both of the above shots demonstrate the lack of latitude this film has. Either the background is gone and the foreground looks OK, or the background detail resolves and the water is a blazing, painful white.
Here’s what the 35mm version looked like:
I actually like the color rendition of the 120 version more (less green-y), and find the first 120mm shot to be the best of the above bunch, but I’m still disappointed overall.
Then I tried to duplicate the rocks under the water shot.
The exposure of the rocks isn’t terrible, but it gets overwhelmed by the reflecting light on the surface of the water. 120mm, f4, 1/50 sec
Except for the greenish tinge, the 35mm version actually appears to have more latitude here. The rocks are visible throughout the image, not just where the flaring sunlight didn’t reflect into the camera.
This next comparison really isn’t fair, because the Ricohflex is stuck with the 80mm lens (50mm equivalent on a 35mm camera) while the Pentax shot was taken with a 100mm lens.
Phoenix II 120mm, f8, 1/100 sec
Phoenix II 35mm, with a 100mm lens
The color rendition on the 120mm is better, but the lens limitation really shows here. When it comes to detail, I got much closer with the 35mm camera. Maybe a different medium format camera, one where the lenses are interchangeable, would properly showcase the film’s capabilities, but that’s not what I have…
I took a couple more pictures that have no analog to the earlier 35mm shots I took.
I wanted to capture the range of color here, and the film does a reasonable job of accurately capturing the yellows, pinks, oranges, greens, and blues. f8, 1/100 sec
My intent here was to capture the sunflowers peeking out over the fence, with the sign in the foreground. The exposure is OK, but the fixed lens on this camera really limited me. Maybe I should try cropping it? f8, 1/100 sec
In the 6×6 format, I can get 12 shots on a roll. Here I really had only 6 usable shots. The rest were significantly overexposed.
I’d blame myself for this, but this is the first roll on the camera that came out consistently overexposed, and part of that has to be chalked up to the film. It’s limited latitude is not as forgiving of my incompetence when it comes to judging the proper exposure settings.
Though in my defense, I have be reasonably close, or other films would also have this problem.
So regardless of how much of the blame resides with me or with the film, I can safely say this is not an emulsion I’m going to shoot again any time soon.
Which is a bummer, because I really wanted to love this film.
This is a reflective poem that personifies time—or aging—as a quiet intruder who slowly steals moments, memories, and people we cherish.
The poem explores the sorrow of loss, the fading of youth, and the quiet erosion of life’s brightness. Yet at its heart lies resilience: a reminder that while time takes much, it cannot touch our deepest love, hope, or courage.
This piece is a tribute to strength in vulnerability and the beauty of holding on to what truly matters.
The Silent Thief of My Life
He came with neither sound nor call, No thunderclap, no footstep small. He crept through dreams where hopes once lay, And piece by piece, stole light away.
He did not break, he did not shout; He simply turned my fire out. The songs I sang, the stars I chased— He brushed aside and left no trace.
Some days he takes the ones I love And leaves a hole I can’t remove. I watch old faces fade from view— Silent thief, what will you do?
He slows my step, he clouds my gaze, Turns vibrant summers into haze. Yet in the hush he brings to me, I find my deepest memory.
For though he filched my hour and day, He cannot steal the things I pray: The love, the hope that linger on— When night has come and friends are gone.
So while he stalks each breath and year And leaves behind both loss and fear, I’ll walk with courage, hold life tight, And meet the silent thief of my life.
J̌This morning, I came across this question: what’s next? And you know, the mind goes into overdrive. Made me think – as people, we cannot be still, can we? To sit down, rest, or relish the accomplishment and milestones. We complete one thing and jump to the next. In fact, while we’re currently on some errand, work, project, we’re already thinking of the next something to jump into.
But this question is not about what’s next in terms of work. It’s more about life. What’s next after this phase is over? We’re always craving the new, believing the new is “new,” “undiscovered,” “unheard,” but is it really new? Isn’t life a repeat of history – something long forgotten, a relic of ages gone by? When we ask ourselves what’s next, are we just rediscovering or reliving something forgotten?
Is life so mundane that we eagerly jump from one thing to the next? We are never satisfied with the here and now, not content with the ordinary. Is what we are doing meaningless? We worry about things beyond our control. But the sun still rises and sets, the moon still gives light at night, the rivers don’t stop flowing, the rain still falls in season. We can pause for a while, can’t we? Savor the moment, the feeling.
So, what is what’s next for me? If I’m honest, I don’t know. At present, we’re raising our kids, focusing on the teen as he prepares to step into major life decisions. Not that our lives have stopped, but he is the priority. And in this humdrum of raising children, living our lives, making space for families and friends, and living in community, maybe it is not about movement and checking the next milestone. Maybe the invitation is to notice where we are. It is not the destination that we must aim for but the awareness of not having to rush into the next thing.
What if the what’s next is about appreciating the very ordinary that we tend to overlook and not celebrate? Because it is the ordinary – the routines and the familiar – that shape us. What we do may not appear or even feel meaningful. But the extraordinary doesn’t happen daily, nor does it happen unless we go through the ordinary and uneventful.
Therefore, I hope I can sit in this don’t-know and uncertainty, not feeling the pressure to rush into the next phase because everyone else is doing so. Let the world keep spinning and the river keep flowing. Some questions need time to linger unanswered.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood, perhaps with a warm cup of tea resting gently between your hands.
Today’s writing prompt is simple at first glance yet quietly meaningful: “Share five things you’re good at.”
This blog takes that prompt and explores it with warmth and reflection. Instead of listing skills on the surface, it looks deeper—at the qualities that shape how we think, work, connect, and grow.
It’s an invitation to appreciate our own strengths with honesty and kindness, and to encourage others to do the same. A gentle read for anyone on a path of self-awareness and mindful living.
For many of us, this question can feel uncomfortable. We easily recognise the strengths of others, yet hesitate when asked to acknowledge our own.
But identifying what we’re good at is not a display of pride—it’s a practice of knowing ourselves and honouring the lessons life has taught us.
So today, with openness and a humble heart, I’m sharing the five strengths that guide my journey and help me move forward.
1. Creating a Calm, Welcoming Space
One of the qualities I value most in myself is the ability to create calmness, both within and around me.
Whether I’m writing, speaking with someone, or simply sitting in silence, I’ve often been told that my presence feels peaceful.
I believe this calm energy comes from years of observing nature, valuing quiet moments, and choosing to respond gently rather than react impulsively.
To me, calmness is not the absence of challenges; it is the presence of steadiness.
It is the quiet inner voice that says, “This too shall pass,” even when life feels uncertain.
If someone feels lighter, understood, or comforted because of a moment spent with me, I consider that one of my most meaningful abilities.
2. Creating Art That Speaks and Nourishes the Soul
Art has become one of the most fulfilling parts of my life—especially abstract painting, where colours and emotions blend without rules or boundaries.
Every brushstroke carries a part of me, a story, a mood, or a moment.
Recently, I challenged myself to complete 51 artworks in one month. I reached 31—not the number I aimed for, but a journey I deeply enjoyed.
Each artwork felt like a conversation between my imagination and my canvas.
What I cherish most is that my art has inspired others. I love sharing tips, encouraging beginners, and reminding people that art doesn’t have to be perfect—it only has to be honest.
Like writing, art transcends language. It speaks directly to the soul, and I’m grateful that I can create pieces that touch others in their own unique ways.
3. Translating Thoughts Into Meaningful Words
Writing is my way of understanding life. Through words, I explore emotions, celebrate simple joys, and connect with people beyond boundaries and backgrounds.
Over time, I’ve realised that expressing thoughts in a relatable and genuine manner is one of my strengths.
I don’t aim for grand or ornate language—only honesty. Whether I’m writing a reflective blog, replying to a friend, or sharing a small insight from daily life, I enjoy crafting words that comfort, inspire, or resonate.
Writing, to me, is like lighting a gentle lamp in a quiet room. It doesn’t dazzle, but it illuminates just enough for someone to see their own thoughts more clearly.
4. Observing Life Through a Compassionate Lens
As an emotional person, I naturally notice the subtle things—the unspoken emotions, the fleeting glances, the hidden stories behind everyday gestures.
Observation goes beyond seeing; it involves understanding.
Despite the various hurdles life has placed in my path, I try to view the world through my own compassionate lens.
I lift myself up when needed, and I choose to appreciate the life I have with sincerity and gratitude.
Whether it’s a passing bird, a fading flower, or the kindness of a stranger, everything carries meaning when viewed with a sensitive heart.
This ability to observe deeply enriches my writing, strengthens my empathy, and helps me connect more authentically with others.
5. Encouraging and Inspiring Others Through My Journey
One of the strengths I am most grateful for is my desire and ability to uplift others. I enjoy offering encouragement—whether someone is feeling lost, doubtful, or simply weary.
A gentle word or thoughtful appreciation can shift a person’s entire day.
This extends to inspiration as well. After retiring from a banking career, I stepped into a new world of creativity, mindfulness, and personal reinvention.
Sharing this transformation with others who are searching for purpose or navigating their own crossroads has been deeply rewarding.
Topics like happiness, health, reinvention, emotional well-being, and mindful living are close to my heart.
When readers tell me that something I wrote inspired them or gave them courage, I feel profoundly grateful.
If my journey can help even one person embrace their own path, the blessing becomes mutual.
Why This Prompt Matters
The question “What are you good at?” is not about self-praise—it is about self-recognition.
Each of us carries unique strengths shaped by memories, challenges, dreams, and choices.
When we acknowledge these qualities, we begin to see ourselves with greater clarity and kindness.
So, dear friends, take a few moments to reflect on your own five strengths. Write them down. Celebrate them. Share them if you wish.
You might be surprised by how empowering it feels to acknowledge the light you’ve always carried within.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Nothing like a good old cry to suck the life and the energy right out of you. Or is that just me? Crying absolutely exhausts me. Thankfully I rarely cry. Maybe once every couple of years?!
I do get tears in my eyes at times, especially when hormones are steering the ship and more so as I inch closer to the big 5-0. But not a full on blabbering, snorting, whimpering and sobbing cry.
Yesterday my daughter Cordelia did bring me to tears when she was going through some old keepsakes at her dad’s house and sent me this photo:
The picture was taken I would say in 2008, judging by the size of Cordelia. My parents were visiting from Swan River. My ex-husband is in the photo, looking normal and somewhat likable.
I remember this moment so well. I really felt like I had it all.
Eating out on the deck was a big deal to me, I made sure we did every chance we got. We always ate together like a family and so I’d haul the highchair out each time we ate outside.
We were happy in this moment, I believe. I loved having my parents here to visit, it was always a fun time.
I realize that I’m just as happy now, or happier, yet knowing that all the happiness in this picture was completely wiped off the map when we divorced, it’s just, well, sad.
After I moved out I never thought about or missed this house once. I remember a good friend’s husband saying to me c’mon Carla, as if you don’t miss your old house. I honestly didn’t. Still don’t.
Life encourages us to reflect on what matters, brings us joy, and guides us forward. This poem gently explores these important questions, highlighting the values that shape our lives.
May the poem inspire you to find your own idea of a good life and the quiet strengths that make it special.
# What Makes a Good Life #
What is a good life, I ask myself, As sunlight spills on the waking lawn. It answers softly in a gentle voice— A good life blooms in the choices you make.
What values shape the world I see? Kindness, courage, and honesty in me ? They steady my steps when the path feels long, A quiet compass that keeps me strong.
What moments bring joy to my days? A smile shared, warm sunlit rays, Soft laughter drifting through open air— Yes, simple wonders beyond compare.
And peace—where does peace reside? In staying true to the light inside. In listening deeply to each day’s call, And trusting my heart to guide my soul.
Oooh too many to mention. I also don’t understand people with pets still being unkind to strays. How different are they from your own?
I came across something much better today, that says more…
Kinder Than Man by Althea Davis
And God please let the deer on the highway get some kind of heaven. Something with tall soft grass and sweet reunion. Let the moths in porch lights go someplace with a thousand suns, that taste like sugar and get swallowed whole. May the mice in oil and glue have forever dry, warm fur and full bellies. If I am killed for simply living, let death be kinder than man.
I’m writing this post on my test bed laptop, Attitude, which I introduced here.
It’s a dual boot now, Linux Mint as the default, and a (hopefully) de-bloated Win 11 in case I ever get truly desperate. But I’m going to try really hard to stick with Linux on this system and do all the usual things I do on Windows here instead.
The biggest thing I’m going to miss is a program called IrfanView. A small footprint, fast and basic image viewer / editor, I use it not just on my computer, but on all the work computers I touch too. It’s my default image viewer for Windows, its keyboard shortcuts are part of my muscle memory, and it figures prominently in the preparation of my image-heavy WordPress posts.
I have installed a bunch of Linux alternatives to it and will have to start testing them. Which I had planned to do for this post, except after booting it up I realized I’d forgotten to copy over any images from my other laptop!
So stupid!
But I’ve got LibreOffice and ONLYOFFICE, the two office suites I use at home (work insists on MS Office), I’ve got Firefox for web browsing, GIMP for heavy duty image editing, Thunderbird for email, Spotify for listening to music, and Tenacity if I ever get back into sound recording and editing.
I’ve also picked up Darktable, an open source alternative to Lightroom (I think), which might come in handy with all the photographs I’ve been taking lately.
I think the biggest takeaway when it comes to Linux is it really isn’t the operating system anymore, it’s the software that runs on it. Linux, or at least this distribution, is mature, good looking, and well-integrated into my hardware. And it can run everything I need to be productive.
Just not always the software I want it to run.
That’s going to be the hard part: having to, in some cases, learn a new program when I’m already extremely comfortable and fast with another that is Windows-only.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and wrapped in the warmth of curiosity. Today’s writing prompt is truly fascinating: “What are your feelings about eating meat?”
At first glance, it may seem like a simple question—almost a casual inquiry about what ends up on our plate. But look deeper, and you’ll realize that this question opens a doorway into culture, ethics, emotions, memories, and even identity.
Food is never just food. It carries stories.
Yes, जब मीट ईटिंग की बात हो रही है, तो मुझे एक घटना याद आ रही है जिसे मैं यहाँ शेयर करना चाहता हूँ।
A Flashback to Sheoganj: Where Tradition Met Temptation
During my posting at the Sheoganj branch of the bank, I lived in a small town filled with beautifully crafted houses—many of them empty for most of the year.
These homes belonged to the Marwari community, who were settled in cities like Mumbai and Pune for business. They built stunning, aesthetic homes back in Sheoganj and preferred tenants who could maintain a Vegetarian habit..
Yes, there was one condition: No one living in the house should cook or consume non-vegetarian food.
The Marwari and Jain communities are strict vegetarians, and their cultural and religious sentiments were deeply tied to keeping their homes vegetarian spaces.
Some owners took a nominal rent; others even allowed tenants to stay for free. Their only expectation was respect for their values.
Now, imagine a group of bachelors from Bihar—far from home, fond of fish, chicken, and mutton—trying to fit into this rule-bound environment.
As long as we lived there, our cravings for non-vegetarian food kept nudging us, especially on lazy Sundays.
The Secret Chicken Party
One such Sunday, a few colleagues—Kailash and Madan—joined us to plan a secret chicken party. We were determined yet cautious, as getting caught meant losing our accommodation.
Responsibilities were distributed with military precision:
Ramesh was to ride 5 km early in the morning to fetch the chicken discreetly.
I had to arrange the spices and ingredients.
Kailash would bring the wine.
Madan—the best cook among us—was in charge of preparing the feast.
Everything began according to plan. But the moment the chicken hit the hot oil, the aroma exploded like fireworks.
When Kailash returned with the wine, he whispered, “Yaar, the smell of chicken is reaching outside.”
We rushed to check. A few neighborhood dogs were already sniffing around, their tails wagging with excitement. If the dogs could sense it, so could the landlord’s informants.
In a panic, we lit every incense stick we could find—sandalwood, rose, lavender—turning the house into a suffocating fog of fragrance.
But the chicken’s aroma was stronger; even the dogs refused to be fooled. More of them gathered outside our gate, confirming the worst: we were in trouble.
Operation: Hide the Evidence
Realizing the danger, we abandoned all plans of dancing, drinking, and leisurely dining. Instead, we switched to a buffet system—eat fast, finish quickly, and clean everything before anyone suspected anything.
After devouring the delicious meal, we packed the leftover bones into an old cardboard box.
The idea was to bury it five kilometers away, just like Ramesh had fetched the chicken. But after lunch, a gentle laziness overtook us. We decided to rest for a while and take care of the “evidence” in the evening.
Mistake….
Just moments after we closed our eyes, we heard loud noises outside. Rushing out, we saw a group of children playing with the cardboard box strapped to Ramesh’s motorcycle. In the chaos, the box had fallen open, scattering bones everywhere.
— Our worst nightmare had come true. — The secret was out. — The evidence was all over the street. — The neighborhood dogs were celebrating.
By evening, the whole colony knew about our chicken party. And the next morning, we were already searching for a new house.
What the Incident Taught Me About Eating Meat
This incident remains one of the funniest yet most revealing experiences of my life. It showed how deeply food—especially meat—can intersect with culture, identity, and community expectations.
So, what are my feelings about eating meat?
I believe eating meat is a personal choice, shaped by upbringing, health, culture, and beliefs. While some communities view meat as essential nourishment.
Others see its consumption as ethically or spiritually unsettling. Neither viewpoint is wrong; both arise from values that deserve respect.
Living in Sheoganj taught me that food is not just fuel—it is tradition, emotion, and sometimes, a reason for unexpected adventure.
In the End…
Whether you enjoy meat or avoid it, whether you celebrate it or conceal it, your relationship with food reflects who you are and where you come from.
And sometimes, it gives you unforgettable stories—like a chicken party that ended with kids, dogs, incense sticks, and a desperate hunt for a new house!
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Just this morning I got a promotional Black Friday email from Vistaprint. Since I was trapped on the couch trying to hold still so that the five year old next to me would sleep longer because 5:30 am is way too early for him to be up, I decided sure, I’ll create my Christmas photo cards. Kill two birds with one stone, he sleeps in a bit and I’ll have ordered the yearly Christmas cards.
So I choose my design and start scrolling through the 18 000 photos on my phone, trying to choose the best 3 for the front of the card. I shocked myself by completing that in just minutes.
Okay, but now the back of the card. More options. One picture, 3 pictures, 5 pictures. I think to myself, who can get enough of Sid’s sweet adorable face, I’ll adorn the back with 3 more photos.
I picked the first one then decided nope, don’t like that and hit the “back” button. Guess what happened? The whole bloody work of art was wiped out, the card blank. FML.
I quit. Ain’t nobody got time for that. So not user friendly.
And my other pet peeve with online shopping is when there’s no Paypal option and they actually expect me to get off the couch and fetch my Visa from my purse to purchase something. Not happening.
Last batch of images from my first roll of Kodacolor 200, shot on my Pentax K-1000 and 100mm macro lens.
I decided to finish off the roll in my backyard when I heard the crow cawing.
The squirrel heard the cawing too, and he knew what that meant.
Peanuts!
I’m don’t love any of these photos. They tell you what the photographer was photographing, but there is no control of lighting or posing or even angles. No interesting visual hooks unless one happened to already be there by accident, which is not the case in any of these. And that’s because these are animals and they not only aren’t interested in cooperating, but they are actively trying to avoid me.
Well, maybe not the squirrel. Once he discovered I had peanuts, he brazenly approached me.
In a sort of threatening, where-are-my-peanuts? sort of way.
But the camera is large and, evidently, scary-looking, so even he got a bit jumpy once I broke it out.
All of which means I didn’t have the time or leisure to frame these photos in a compelling way. It was much more focus and take the photo while the critter in question is still there.
It felt a lot like my cell phone photography, actually. Though, with processing costs, a lot more expensive.
f5.6, 1/125 sec
f4, 1/500 sec
The crows like to stare and caw at me, especially if I don’t immediately leave them peanuts. For the above two exposures, I metered a dark area below since I knew the bright sky would throw off the metering. They turned out OK.
I was in such a rush to shoot this, I didn’t meter properly. But the exposure is acceptable despite that. The image is flat, though. f6.8, 1/125 sec
He came back for another peanut and popped up to look around. Surely I had left him another peanut! These guys always look jacked when they stand up like this. f4, 1/500 sec
I suppose this would be the most interesting (least uninteresting?) of the squirrel photos, but all the colors are neutral / brownish and nothing really pops. f4, 1/500 sec
I am clearly not destined to be a wildlife photographer. I don’t feel any passion or compunction to do it, so in addition to not being broken up over the fact, I’m also not going to rush to get any of the practice I clearly need to hone that particular skill.
I still like the idea of photographing people (when they’ll let me), but I don’t think spontaneous shots in environments I can’t control will work out. At least, not consistently.
It is possible (and has happened) that occasionally, I get lucky in those situations and get a shot I’m really proud of.
But it’s definitely rare.
I haven’t tried portrait photography in a ‘studio’ setting, mostly because I don’t have a studio.
Or willing models.
(And all the unwilling ones got restraining orders…)
But that’s OK, too. For now, at least, macro photography is holding enough of my interest that I don’t mind.
Besides, if you thought film and processing was expensive, wait till you get a load of renting studios and hiring models!
This is a heartfelt reflection on life’s ever-changing journey. It walks through the quiet struggles of yesterday, the restless pace of today, and the uncertainties of tomorrow.
Yet, amidst the highs and lows, it reminds us that a guiding hand holds all our days
# Changing Threads of Time #
I move through time like shifting sand, Yesterday closed, tomorrow unplanned. Yesterday, I worked with steady hands, My heart a drum in quiet lands.
Today I shine on a fragile screen, A restless mind, a fleeting dream. The world spins fast, it pulls, it calls, I laugh, I sway, I stumble, I fall.
Yesterday, I tried to leave a spark, A little light against the dark. Today, the world spins fast and loud, I smile, yet feel outside the crowd.
Tomorrow may take my place away, A wandering soul, a drifting day. Through rise and ruin, one truth shines through— God holds the threads of all we do.
For today’s prompt, I actually answered last year. I came across this statement last night and thought it would make a good piece.
My perfect day has to be part chaotic, part quiet, with a generous amount of nagging in between. If these were missing, it would be an unusually imperfect day .
Mornings start with me waking up neither fresh nor refreshed, even after a supposedly good night’s sleep. These days, sleep is never enough. Why is that?
My little one waking up gently would be a miracle. I’m thrilled she’s picking up reading, but it becomes… problematic when mornings turn into a battleground.
The egg turning into a perfect sunny side up? That’s the official sign it’ll be a good day .
Mornings when I get to drink my coffee hot and in relative quiet, those are my tiny pockets of bliss.
I keep hoping, against all logic, that maybe just one day I won’t have to deal with as many dishes .
Then come the conversations with my little girl, she always comes up with the most unexpected and hilarious stuff. A day when I don’t sound like a broken record to both the kids is its own miracle. I love that they’re bonding (even if it’s through online gaming), but they can also annoy each other so perfectly that I end up playing referee.
A day that doesn’t demand strength… a day where I can simply be. A day where I can breathe without overthinking the thinking .
A day where all the imperfections fall perfectly together. Because, a day that goes exactly as planned isn’t much to live for.
If it’s too calm, I’d probably think I’m in the wrong house.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and thoughtful mood. Today’s writing prompt made me stop in my tracks and reflect: “Name your top three pet peeves.”
At first glance, it felt like a light, almost playful question—something you might answer casually over a cup of tea.
But as I sat with it, I realized something interesting: pet peeves, though small and often overlooked, are tiny windows into our deeper selves.
They reveal what we value, what we fear, and what we silently hope the world would pay more attention to.
So, allow me to share my top three pet peeves—little annoyances that have shaped big insights—along with the lessons they’ve taught me about responsibility, respect, and emotional balance.
1. Chronic Procrastination (My Own Achilles’ Heel)
Let’s begin with a confession: My first pet peeve is procrastination—especially my own.
We all postpone tasks now and then, but chronic procrastination feels like a silent thief. It steals time, peace, and productivity. It sneaks into our routines quietly and leaves behind guilt, self-doubt, and unnecessary stress.
I’ve often found myself in situations where an important task kept slipping to “tomorrow,” “later,” or “after one more break.” And while the world didn’t collapse, something inside me did—a little sense of discipline, a little confidence, a little trust in myself.
When procrastination affects team projects or shared responsibilities, the impact becomes heavier. I have experienced moments where my delay caused pressure for others, and that realization hurt far more than the work itself.
But over the years, I’ve understood that procrastination is rarely the disease—it is a symptom. It often hides deeper feelings:
fear of failure,
fear of imperfection,
a lack of motivation,
or simply being mentally overwhelmed.
Solution: To tackle procrastination, I break big tasks into small, manageable steps and celebrate progress instead of waiting for perfection. I remind myself that “done” is better than “perfect but pending.”
And most importantly, I practice gentleness. Beating myself up never helped—but compassion and consistency do.
When something is truly out of my control, I’m learning to breathe, accept, and let go with grace.
2. People Who Don’t Value Time
My second pet peeve is one I believe many of us share: chronic lateness—people who consistently fail to value time, either theirs or others’.
Time is one of the greatest gifts we possess. It is the only resource that never returns once spent. So when someone treats it casually—arriving late without apology, delaying commitments, or canceling plans last minute—it feels like a quiet act of disrespect.
Whether it’s a meeting, a gathering, or simply a promised call, lateness disrupts the flow of the day. It creates avoidable stress. It also reveals something deeper: a lack of discipline, awareness, or consideration for the people whose time is intertwined with theirs.
But hidden behind this irritation is a meaningful insight—punctuality is not about clocks; it’s about character. It reflects responsibility, integrity, and an understanding that other people’s lives and schedules matter just as much as our own.
Solution: To handle such situations, I set clear expectations and remind people kindly about plans. When delays are unavoidable, a simple message goes a long way in maintaining trust.
In my own life, I’ve learned to give myself buffer time, manage commitments better, and prioritize what truly needs attention. After all, valuing time begins with valuing your own.
3. Negative Attitudes and Constant Complaining
My final pet peeve is rooted not in actions, but in energy—constant negativity. We all face hardships and need support, and sharing struggles is healthy.
But some people complain endlessly without any desire for solutions or change. Over time, such negativity can drain a room of warmth, motivation, and joy.
Negativity spreads like smoke—slow, invisible, and suffocating. It dims enthusiasm, clouds judgment, and makes progress feel heavier than it needs to be.
Being around constant complainers can leave you mentally exhausted, even if you entered the conversation feeling positive.
This pet peeve has taught me something essential: our mindset shapes not only our lives but also the emotional climate we create around us. We are responsible for the atmosphere we bring into a room.
Solution: I gently redirect negative conversations by saying, “Let’s think about what we can do.” or “What’s one positive thing that happened today?” This shift doesn’t dismiss their feelings—it offers a path forward.
And personally, I try to surround myself with balanced individuals—those who acknowledge challenges but also celebrate victories. Emotional balance is a gift, both to ourselves and to others.
A Final Submission
Exploring these three pet peeves—procrastination, disrespect for time, and constant negativity—made me realize that they all point to a common theme: responsibility toward ourselves and toward others.
Pet peeves are not just irritations; they are subtle reminders of the standards we hold close to our hearts. They challenge us to be better communicators, better planners, and better companions in this shared journey of life.
So, dear friends, what are your top three pet peeves? Share them with me—and together, let’s turn small frustrations into meaningful insights.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Today I was thinking about how Sundays have evolved in my life. Being Christian, attending church was important for us. With a family deeply entrenched in the faith, we practically grew up in church. Though my parents stopped attending themselves, they made sure we attended Sunday school. And we couldn’t get away from it either, with other family members ensuring that absence was frowned upon. That’s what happens when you have a missionary-preacher grandmother and preacher uncles.
As I grew up, the concept of Sundays and attending church changed. It felt more like a chore, a ritual, and an act to please others than something we were supposed to enjoy or approach with the right spirit and intention. As I entered my teens, I stopped attending Sunday school, which wasn’t surprising – it was the beginning of rebellious years and questioning. As judgmental as it sounds, I was also put off by the hypocrisy.
One of the things I observed was how people can be both cruel and helpful, welcoming and also judgmental, friendly yet also hurtful. There’s this whole contradiction that’s difficult to comprehend. Unfortunately, I didn’t experience as much acceptance and grace. I’ve come to believe that the many negative experiences I went through are so ingrained in my psyche, they’ve shaped how I see and approach “churchy” people. One of the things I fear most is being judged. It doesn’t help when I still witness that in plenty. Then there are those who are stuck in their one-dimensional perspective, you cannot have a conversation at all. And love? That is just lip service to make one feel good, I felt.
Once I stopped Sunday school, I did not look back. Attending church became a once-a-year event, only for Christmas (not even Easter), and that too for appearance’s sake. And once I left home, even Christmas service stopped. I drifted far away from the faith and questioned everything. I can say I did lose my religion. And I didn’t feel the need to search for any kind of belief either. I was satisfied in that space, not believing in anything and answerable to no one. That was not a life to aspire to or be proud of.
What I’ve come to realize is that when Scripture says, “God will never leave you nor forsake you,” He truly meant it. God is a personal experience. He met me not only at my worst but when I had stopped believing in His existence. I was going through my own battles, and God met me there. With all my unbelief, those Sunday school stories and lessons clung to me. They breathed life and hope. The seeds of renewal started to take root. When I returned to church, it was conviction and not conversion.
Since that day sometime in the mid-2000s when I first stepped inside a church again, I’ve been regularly attending. Today, I attend Sunday service not because I have to but because I need to – not just for fellowship but to be reminded that as I step into another unknown week, I don’t have to have it all together because there is a God, and He is in control. I don’t have to see Him; I only have to believe. This spiritual walk is not easy. More often, I grapple with my heart and I wrestle with God with the whys, hows, whats, and wheres. And He allows me to live in the tension – amidst the questions and my unreliable (or should I say wavering) faith. And I hope I’m growing spiritually and in every other area, that this time my focus is not on people but on God. As humans, we’ll always have our shortcomings, but I hope that we are also learning together to be kinder, more gracious, forgiving, and how to love our neighbor (each other) as we love ourselves.
Matthew 7:3 says, “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?” I try and remind myself of this often. And I am eternally grateful that God is not vindictive or quick to judge – otherwise I wouldn’t be where I am now.
This poem is a call to awaken to Earth’s enduring power and life’s resilience. It reminds us that life has survived fire, ice, and storms, and now humankind faces a choice: to protect, nurture, and honor our planet—or to let it suffer.
A tribute to the Earth’s strength, and a challenge to rise with it.
# When Earth Began to Speak #
Listen— before your stories, before your gods, before a single human dream took root, the Earth was a monument of fire.
She cracked open in molten thunder, lava spilling like the first red language she spoke into the void. Mountains rose as if remembering some ancient oath. Oceans hurled themselves against newborn shores, teaching the world how to breathe.
Life crawled forth— shivering, soft, improbable. A whisper in a storm. A spark asking, “May I stay?”
And the Earth— rough, raging, beautiful— answered with a rumble: “If you endure.”
So life endured. Through ice ages sharpening their blades, through meteors that dimmed the sun, through nights so long you could mistake them for eternity.
Still, green returned. Still, wings unfolded. Still, paws pressed the soil like small prayers.
And then came you— humankind— with minds bright enough to rewrite the sky, and hearts fragile enough to forget why it mattered.
You stand now where eras divide, where futures tremble.
Look around— the winds are teaching, the rivers are pleading, the forests are asking the question only you can answer:
Will you be the healers of the world that carried you, or the final storm it cannot bear?
Because the Earth— she remembers every scar, yet still offers you her open hands.
She asks only this: Choose the light. Choose the life. Choose the flame that began everything.
For if we rise with her, she will rise with us— and together, we will write the next dawn.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and thoughtful mood. Today’s writing prompt poses a fascinating question: “If you didn’t need sleep, what would you do with all the extra time?”
वैसे तो लोग अक्सर कहते हैं—“मेरे पास time नहीं है,” and in today’s busy world, this feels absolutely true.
One day, while lying on my bed and thinking about this very rush of life, something magical happened. My dark room suddenly glowed with a soft, divine light. I opened my eyes, and there stood my beloved Lord Himself, holding the Sudarshan Chakra, smiling gently.
Overjoyed, I bowed and said, “Prabhu, I want more time. I have so much I wish to do! I want to be like Kumbhkaran for a week—but in reverse—I do not want to sleep at all.
I want to enjoy my passions with all the extra hours!” The Lord smiled and replied, “ॐ अस्तु. So be it.”
And just like that, I felt an incredible excitement rise within me. If I truly had all twenty-four hours at my disposal without the need to sleep, how would I use them?
My Current Rhythm of Life
As a retired individual, I strive to maintain a well-balanced, fulfilling routine. My mornings begin with a refreshing walk followed by yoga. Soon after, I swim for a burst of energy.
Late mornings and nights are dedicated to my passions—blogging, painting, and creating videos.
Evenings are reserved for my favorite indoor game: Table Tennis. After lunch, I enjoy a cozy nap that recharges my spirit.
But imagine a world where sleep was no longer necessary. What would I truly do with those extra hours?
A New World of Opportunities
Gaining an additional one-third of the day feels like being gifted a second life. Time, the most precious resource, suddenly expands. And with expansion comes transformation.
Pursuing Passions Without Limits
My creative pursuits—painting, writing, storytelling—are my greatest joys. Yet, I often find myself racing against time to fit them into the day.
With extra hours, I would immerse myself completely into these passions. I would experiment with abstract art techniques, play with new color palettes, and bring emotions alive on canvas.
I would write stories, blogs, and poems that resonate deeply with readers.
Music has always fascinated me. Learning the guitar is an unfulfilled dream. Those extra hours would finally give me space to hold the instrument with patience and create melodies that calm the soul.
Learning, Growing, Evolving
Time without sleep would be the perfect opportunity for self-development. I would enroll in online courses in philosophy, technology, history—subjects that expand the mind and deepen understanding.
Perhaps I would even explore new skills like digital art or coding—things that seem daunting when time feels limited. Continuous learning keeps the mind vibrant, curious, and alive.
Strengthening Bonds With Loved Ones
One of the most fulfilling uses of extra time would be nurturing relationships. I would spend more time sharing stories with my granddaughter, playing games with my family, and dancing with my friends from the senior citizens’ group.
Deep conversations, long walks, and late-night laughter would strengthen bonds in ways that ordinary schedules do not allow.
Giving Back to Society
What better use of time than bringing joy to others? With extra hours, I would mentor young minds, volunteer for causes close to my heart, and support children in their extracurricular passions.
Life becomes richer when our time becomes a bridge of kindness.
Exploring the Beauty of the World
The world is a treasure chest of wonder—mountains, forests, oceans, cultures. Those extra hours would allow me to travel more freely, collect stories, meet new people, and immerse myself in places that nourish the soul.
Finding Balance in Limitless Time
Even in a sleepless world, balance would remain essential. Some hours would be dedicated to introspection—meditating beneath the stars, reading by soft candlelight, or simply sitting in silence.
Time is not only about doing; it is also about being.
The Irony of Extra Time
Interestingly, the thought of not needing sleep raises a deeper question: Would these extra hours make us more productive—or more restless?
Sleep is, after all, essential for clarity and emotional well-being. Without it, would life feel fuller or simply more crowded?
A Gentle Awakening
Just as I was lost in these beautiful thoughts, someone shook me gently. “Stop dreaming so much! It’s morning already!”
It was my wife — smiling, amused, and the reason I returned from my divine adventure. And just like that, the dream ended…but the reflection stayed.
My Final Submission
Perhaps we may never escape the need for sleep. But this thought experiment reminds us that the real key to fulfillment is not more time, but better use of the time we already have.
So, my friends, tell me— If you didn’t need sleep, how would you use those precious extra hours?
I look forward to hearing your dreams and thoughts!
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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It’s that damn dryer sheet, I usually buy the Bounce brand. It really annoys me to no end when I take clothes out of the dryer and begin folding them, knowing that used up Bounce sheet is in there somewhere waiting to wreck my life.
I don’t mind folding laundry but once I get into it, I don’t like to be disrupted by the Bounce sheet. Like when you come across it, what are you supposed to do with it? You can’t just leave it in the basket as you keep folding because it gets stuck to the laundry and then you end up picking it off or shaking it off.
You can look for it right away and remove it but where do you put it? If I have to get up mid-laundry folding to go put it in the garbage, it wrecks my vibe.
If you just set it somewhere near you, chances are as you are shaking out that towel or pair of pants before you begin to fold them, the air caused by that shaking will blow it on the floor.
It’s not that big of a deal, I realize my day shouldn’t be ruined by a used Bounce sheet but this is my reality.
Maybe I’ll go back to dryer balls. I do believe the dryer sheets are full of bad chemicals anyway.
They’re just bad all around.
Sid & I took our dog for a walk this afternoon just before the sun went down
This is Attitude, my 2021 Dell Latitude, which I just bought because I have an anti-Windows attitude.
I’m sorry, Ian. I’m afraid I can’t do that.
I’m trying to figure out the upgrade path for my Win 10 laptop and didn’t want to mess about with my daily driver, so I bought Attitude as an inexpensive test bed.
My primary purpose is to install and play with Linux Mint to determine if it will work as a replacement OS.
Since this thing came with Win 11 Pro, I’m also exploring how to de-bloat and improve the privacy of the Microsoft OS.
Those lessons will then be transferred over to the computers of the Missus and the Kiddos.
(A recent Windows update involving a forced move of files to OneDrive took a crying and screaming Missus a full day to undo.)
I’ve been using Chris Titus Tools and OOShutUp++ to do things like turn off telemetry, ads, and other Microsoft spying.
Sadly, my first attempt to install Linux to the hard drive resulted in the installer attempting to install onto the USB thumb drive with the ISO install image on it.
The operative word here being “attempting”.
I don’t even know.
Sigh.
Needless to say, that did not end well…
But I didn’t discover I need to download the install ISO again until now.
Sometimes I wonder About the moon, All alone In the vast open sky.
Does it look down at the earth? What does it think About humanity? If it could speak, Would it tell us Everything it has seen?
The chaos we have created, The inhumanity and cruelty, The destructive wars, The earth groaning in pain As we plunder her mercilessly.
Would it tell us about our greed That consumes our conscience, The selfish living we crave, Not sparing a thought for the future – What world we leave our children later?
Would it tell us how we fight each other For no other reason than skin color, Or how we plunder each other’s land, Justifying it in God’s name?
Or maybe how we think our wealth Gives us a right to trample the other.
Perhaps the moon, in quiet despair, Watches us silently – Not speaking, Yet saying everything Through its expression.
Would it turn away one day, Refusing to shine upon us, Until we remembered What it means To be human again?
This poem gently explores unspoken love—its pain, beauty, and quiet strength. It shows how longing stays in the heart like a flame, turning memories into dreams and silence into deep feelings.
# A True Love Story #
A love story beats like a drum in my chest, A molten-gold fire that gives me no rest. The road of love is thorned and steep, Yet in my heart, her laughter I keep.
Each breath I take carries her scent, A tide of longing, forever unspent. Words unspoken press on my chest, Yet her name paints my lips with zest.
Through nights of darkness, barefoot I roam, Chasing the shadows that lead me home. Moonlight weaves her shape in my mind— A tender vision I cannot leave behind.
These silent feelings bleed and glow, A secret magic only we know. At the edge of dreams, I stumble and fall, Drunk on her name, I surrender all.
And when I sleep, she comes near to me, A soft silver touch, calm and free. She leaves the taste of eternity sweet— A love so fierce, yet tender, complete.
Land that I love, the one still holding my heart – you cradle my childhood and my teen years, the innocence of growing up.
Nongjrong village – a place above the clouds, the sunrise
Oh, how I long to see you once again – as I reminisce your captivating beauty, how you look as dawn breaks, the early sun kissing a sky still half-dressed in clouds… a soft glow rising while the world still sleeps, gently warming the cold earth.
I long – to feel the wind fluttering against my face, carrying the cold air with it, as the clouds rise from the depths, mists drifting like whispered memories over the valley… layers of fog covering our hills like a quiet embrace. The grass beneath my feet, clothed in frozen dew, awakens me with its crisp touch – a reminder of home.
Where the falls and mist mingle
Though I left you for distant shores in search of something more, and for a while found comfort in bright lights – your unpredictable yet pleasant weather, your clouded mountains, your hail that filled us with childlike joy, your endless green and scattered colors call out to me.
Home – where clouds walk the earth. And I wait, to return to your warm embrace once again.
In So Long And Thanks For All The Fish, Douglas Adams wrote a scene where a man had determined the world was crazy when he encountered printed instructions for using a toothpick.
It was meant to be humorous.
And it was.
Back then.
But not today.
Oh, fiction mimicking and predicting reality!
An age of marvels!
And so now, in the Year of Our Lord 2025, we have mugs that come with instructions.
And warnings.
God forbid I hold it upside down while trying to pour my super-heated McDonald’s coffee into it…
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and a peaceful space within yourself. Today’s writing prompt tickled my curiosity the moment I read it: “What are your two favorite things to wear?”
At first glance, it feels simple—almost too simple. After all, we all have clothes we prefer: a soft cotton kurta, a pair of perfectly worn-in jeans, a favourite winter cardigan.
Or perhaps a saree that carries the fragrance of old memories. But the more I sat with the question, the deeper it grew.
Because what we choose to wear is rarely just clothes. It is comfort, identity, memory, aspiration—woven together.
So today, let me share the two things I love most to wear, and why they go far beyond fashion.
1. The Comfortable Outfit That Feels Like “Home”
We all have that one outfit—soft, familiar, perfectly shaped around our lives. It may not be glamorous, but whenever we slip into it, something inside us relaxes.
For me, it is a light cotton kurta paired with breathable trousers. Not the latest trend. Not something for a gathering. Just me, uncomplicated and at ease.
This outfit is my favourite, not because it is stylish, but because it helps me return to myself.
The fabric carries memories: – mornings when the world was quiet, – evenings filled with chai and conversation, – days when the gentle touch of cotton softened life’s harsh edges.
Clothing can be an anchor. It reminds us that comfort is not indulgence—it is nourishment.
In a world that constantly demands performance, productivity, and presentation, slipping into something comfortable is an act of healing. It tells the body, “You are safe. You can rest. You can simply be.”
And perhaps that is why my first favourite thing to wear is not fashion at all—it is familiarity. The kind that steadies the soul.
2. The Outfit That Makes Me Feel “A Little More Myself”
While the first favourite is all about comfort, the second is about confidence. I believe everyone has one item of clothing that doesn’t just fit their body—it fits their spirit.
For some, it’s a saree that transforms an ordinary day into a celebration. –
For others, it’s a sharp blazer that makes them feel capable and ready. –
For many, it’s a pair of well-loved jeans that whisper, “Go live your life boldly.”
For me, it is a crisp, neatly ironed shirt—simple, classic, without unnecessary noise. Wearing it makes me feel presentable, focused, and quietly confident.
It doesn’t make me someone else; it makes me a slightly better, slightly clearer version of myself.
There’s a certain magic in clothing that aligns your inner world with your outer appearance.
It’s not vanity—it’s a form of self-expression. When we choose something that makes us feel good, we are affirming our worth.
Clothes don’t define us; But the right clothes can remind us of who we already are.
What These Two Choices Reveal
At first, the prompt asked about my two favourite things to wear. But answering it tells me something else entirely:
We all wear two selves— the one seeking comfort, and the one seeking confidence.
Some days we need gentleness, softness, a sense of belonging. Other days we need strength, focus, and a spark of courage. And both are equally important.
The beauty lies in understanding what we choose and why.
We don’t wear clothes merely to cover ourselves. We wear them to speak without words. We wear them to shape how the day feels. We wear them to carry the stories that live in our fabric.
A Small Thought to End With
As I reflected on the prompt, I realised that choosing favourite things to wear is not about fashion or trends—it’s about awareness. It’s about noticing the quiet ways in which clothing supports our inner life.
So perhaps the real question isn’t: What are your two favourite things to wear?
The real question is: What do those choices reveal about the life you want to live?
Are you seeking comfort? Strength? Freedom? Nostalgia? Maybe all of them.
And that’s the beauty of it. We don’t have to choose one version of ourselves.
We can wear both—softness and strength, comfort and confidence, home and horizon.
Thank you for reading, dear friends. I hope this simple prompt encourages you to reflect on your own choices—not just in clothing, but in life.
What you wear is not just on your body; it is on your mind, your memories, and your dreams.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Equipment
I would like to thank Destiny for our enjoyable conversation yesterday that this post is inspired by. I only posted my old blogs yesterday since I feel like there’s nothing new to share. But today, I want to share what my normal day looks like.
Before seven, my sisters and the kids will go to school, making our house more peaceful. At eight, Mama and I usually finished our morning chores, and that’s the time I started enjoying the online world.
Since my workspace is an open area, I can glance anytime at what’s going on in my surroundings. I saw Mama pasturing our goats while our chickens roamed free. I stepped down and documented it.
I can also hear my niece and nephew playing below since they had no class yesterday, and I sometimes remind them to be friends with each other, or else someone will go home and play alone. They were happy they saw this equipment yesterday, too, which rarely visits our village.
Backhoe
I appreciate these scenes daily, but mostly, I share stories when my sisters are around. This time, they are at work, and that’s what my normal day looks like. You sparked this thought, my friend Destiny, and I thank you.
Thank you so much for your endless support, my amazing readers. Happy weekend, and stay awesome!
I am one of those people who can’t take a compliment by saying thanks and moving along. Nope, I need to stop and explain everything about what I was complimented on and over-share and make the situation weird.
A couple of months ago a coworker complimented me on my hair as I was passing by her desk. I didn’t really know her all that well, she doesn’t work in the Faculty of Health, she was in a administrative role in another department. There I go, over-explaining who she was. Hehehe.
Anyway, after she said what she said about my hair, what I should’ve done was say thank you and keep walking. But no. I stopped. I said oh really? Thanks so much.
Then I went on to explain how most of my life I was a short hair person and then when I hit thirty I decided to grow it and even then once it was long, I didn’t know anything about styling hair so it just hung, flat and boring and I was about to chop it all off and go back to being a short hair person when a coworker explained to me exactly how to tease it at the crown of my head and which curling wand to use and how to use it.
And the rest is history.
Yes, there’s lots of product in my hair. I can’t (and won’t) live without hairspray. No, it’s not really a lot of work because I only wash my hair twice a week, if that, I just put it up to sleep and the next morning, let it down and “fix” it.
It’s funny because while I’m going on and on to this lady, I’m really just hoping to negate or deflect the compliment but I don’t realize how ridiculous I sound. Then later I think to myself, oh my gosh, why did I tell her all of that?
My over-sharing knows no boundaries. Sometimes it’s the McDonald’s drive-thru guy.
This poem is a gentle reminder that growth doesn’t follow a clock. It celebrates patience, self-acceptance, and the quiet courage it takes to evolve at one’s own pace.
“I Am Still Becoming” speaks to anyone who has ever felt behind, reminding them that every step — even the small ones — is part of becoming who they’re meant to be.
I Am Still Becoming
I am not behind — I’m finding my way, Growing a little more with every new day. I’m right on time, where I should be, Walking the path that’s meant for me.
I am not late — I’m learning still, Climbing each step with faith and will. I laugh, I stumble, I sometimes fall, Yet life still whispers, “You can have it all.”
So, dear life, please take your time, Let me dance to my own sweet rhyme. No rush, no race, no need to flee, Yes, I am still becoming… me.
Even the mist knows how to rise
For the past few days, I’ve felt somewhat scattered – if that’s even the right word. My mind keeps looping through questions, and among all the questions we ask in life, “why” seems to be the one we return to most.
But my whys aren’t the usual why me or why did this happen. They’re quieter, stranger. I find myself asking why I’m reading, why I’m writing, why I’m drawn to certain thoughts at all. Reading and writing have shaped me more than anything else; I’ve learned, grown, and even understood myself (and others) through them. Yet lately, as I read or write, questions appear out of nowhere:
Why am I doing what I’m doing? What am I trying to prove? Who is it for? What am I gaining? Some questions don’t even have shape or language. Are they meaningful or meaningless? We’re all going to die one day, how much weight do we put on what we do?
The “why” echoes like a clanging bell, not as crisis, but as if something unseen is shifting.
I don’t think this is an existential crisis. I’m not wrestling with the meaning of life – I know life holds more meaning than I can ever grasp. So it must be something else. Maybe it’s about contentment. About feeling alive. About finding meaning in the ordinary and the mundane, and truly living in the present.
I feel time shifting like sand under my feet – the weight of what I carry, the stories I haven’t told, the life I’ve lived and the one I continue to build. I’m learning to put my thoughts into words, though I struggle to capture them all. And when I do put them down, another question arises; Can I really write everything I feel? There’s a kind of dichotomy I wrestle with – wanting to articulate everything, yet knowing some things resist being written.
As I quietly delve deeper into myself, I feel a shift. It hums within. It breathes through the way I observe, the words I speak, how I hold conversations, and how I relate to people. I cannot name this shift, but I feel it. Am I searching for permission or for purpose? And permission for what? To live? To be? To hold moments tightly? To be more aware of the present? Where does purpose fit into all of this?
Sometimes I wonder whether there’s a higher calling I never heard or never recognized. Maybe we all have one, but life keeps throwing interruptions and unwanted intermissions. I don’t fully understand life – maybe I never will – but now, I’m trying to listen. To understand. To learn.
And I hope I’m not too late for whatever is waiting.
I hope this blog reaches you in a cheerful and contemplative mood. Today’s writing prompt poses a deceptively simple question—one that seems light at first glance, yet carries the entire weight of the world we live in:
“What technology would you be better off without, and why?”
It’s fascinating how one small device has silently transformed our days, our thoughts, our creativity, and even the rhythm of our relationships. This question doesn’t just invite an answer—it invites introspection, encouraging us to imagine a life with more presence, more peace, and a gentler, more mindful connection to the world around us.
When I first read it, I smiled. After all, technology is the very reason you and I can share this moment. It is the bridge that carries emotions across screens, turning scattered thoughts into conversations.
Yet, as I sat with the question a little longer, it stirred something deeper. I was reminded of a quiet truth: the tools we create eventually begin to shape us—sometimes in ways we notice, and sometimes in ways we don’t.
And so, dear friends, let’s take a slow, reflective stroll through this question together…
The Paradox of Modern Technology
Technology is like a double-edged sword—brilliant in its purpose, yet sharp enough to wound if held the wrong way.
It has empowered us to create, connect, store knowledge, save lives, and break boundaries that once felt impossible.
Yet, it has also changed the way we feel, speak, remember, love, and even breathe.
When I think of a technology that I would be better off without, one rises above all others:
The Smartphone.
Not the idea of communication, information, or mobility—but the hyperconnected, hyperdistracting, hyperconsuming smartphone that has slowly woven itself into every corner of our lives.
Why the Smartphone Would Make Me Better Off Without It
Let me clarify—I am not against smartphones. They are modern marvels.
But the version of myself that exists when I’m overly attached to it? That version is definitely someone I would be better off without.
Here’s why:
1. It steals presence.
There was a time when mornings began with cool breezes, gentle stretches, and quiet thoughts. Today, mornings often begin with glowing screens and endless notifications.
One moment I’m checking a message; the next moment I’m lost in a maze of posts, reels, ads, and updates that don’t truly matter.
Somewhere in this process, we lose the first breath of the day, that sacred silence that sets the tone of our inner world.
I answered this prompt a few days ago and talked about the Netflix series Death By Lightning which I had just gotten into.
I’m still not finished the series as I made a vow last night to only read, Michele‘s book, and stay off of Netflix. But I am another episode or two into it and finally got a chance to do some googling on Garfield and Guiteau.
I feel like this series was really well made and I love any period types of shows like this.
The guy who plays Guiteau is so creepy and gross. He’s a perfect fit. I find him very unsettling and physically I can’t stand how his beard looks so sparse and patchy on the upper part of his face and neck. According to Wikipedia, in real life he had a mental illness so I do feel bad for him.
At first when I saw the Garfield character I thought there’s nothing notable about this guy, other than maybe his voice. He seemed dull, boring. But as you watch, you realize it’s maybe his humbleness that is maybe mistaken for dullness and he’s actually pretty alluring.
I love how progressive he was. How down to earth he was.
I wonder if the actual President Garfield was much the same.
Cordelia & I & her friend Paige back in January of 2020
This week, and that means as of this Monday, I’ve had more cars than I can count weaving into and out of my lane.
Usually on curves, but also on straight stretches.
And I’ve had three, yes three cars run red lights while making a left turn in front of me.
As in coming from the opposite direction and turning into my path left turns.
If you’re starting your left turn when my light is green, you’re running a red light!
This isn’t rocket science.
Keep your eyes on the road and off your phone screen.
Obey the traffic lights.
Or you. Are. Going. To. Kill. Someone.
I don’t like to honk excessively, or even very much.
Maybe a couple light taps if the light is green, you’re in front of me (and looking down!), and you haven’t moved for several seconds.
A gentle “Hey, look up. Light’s changed.”
But I’ve had it with this BS. When these a-holes drift into my lane now, I slow down, swerve as much as I can without leaving my lane, and I honk.
And when they run that red light?
I honk.
A lot.
Long and hard.
While flipping them off.
I’m sick of this BS.
I’m so alert driving to avoid these asshats that I’m exhausted just by the twenty minute drive to and from work.
I’m usually all about civility (or at least keeping the profanity muttered under my breath) and de-escalation, but the amount of careless and dangerous driving I’m witnessing every day, every trip, is alarming and flabbergasting.
We are driving 2000lb+ hunks of metal at high speeds.
We can cause a lot of property damage if we screw up.
We can injure, maim, and kill people if we screw up.
We could lose loved ones or ourselves if we or someone else screws up.
So why do so many people treat driving so cavalierly?
Sorry, I’m not sorry, but just over this weekend on a long drive, I avoided two possible accidents due to idiots on the road while my whole family was in the car.
I’m not even sure the other parties were aware how close they came to hitting us.
So my threshold for tolerating this bullsh*t has completely evaporated.
Some more flower photos on Kodacolor 200 using my Pentax K-1000 and 100mm macro lens.
Side note: Apparently Kodacolor 200 is in short supply. Despite some reservations, the gloomier lighting of winter led me to ask for a roll when I dropped some film off for processing this week. They’re out! I had to settle for Kodacolor 100 and ColorPlus 200 (which I actually like).
Since the Missus and Kiddos don’t like to be photographed (unless they’re photobombing something I don’t want them in), and Doggo won’t stay still long enough for me to get the focus dialed in, this round is still plant-heavy.
Now a parked car will stay still long enough to focus on. As did the Mexican sage (and not heather) reflected in the glass. f5.6, 1/125 sec
These last few flora photos are from the backyard.
This dandelion caught my eye. I like the framing and the way it pops. Even if I do hate the weeds these spawn from. f6.8, 1/125 sec
Then I attempted what probably isn’t my most well-thought out experiment. How can I make a backyard plant feel like it’s part of a more exotic local?
Why, by putting a hardback book cover behind it and then playing with aperture until both are in focus.
I wanted to see how much difference the aperture made, but I also really wanted to end with a photo suggesting a flower on a mountain, a distant fortress behind it.
I think I got a flower in a pot, with a not-so-distant book cover behind it.
f5.6, 1/125 sec, no extension tubes and clearly not going to work the way I intended, so I added all three extension tubes
Well, there’s clearly something there behind this ginormous flower. f8, 1/15 sec, 100mm lens and all three tubes
Oh, it’s some Middle Earth-esque mountain fortress. Or a book cover. f22, 1/2 sec
If I had to do this again, I’d use some sort of scale model or doll house in the background. The lighting of the image on the book cover doesn’t match the foreground lighting and it just looks like a flower in front of a flat image. But I tried.
Coming up: some decidedly less ‘artistic’ and more point-and-shooty pictures of wild and dangerous urban fauna. I barely escaped with my life.
This poem highlights the vibrant spirit in nature’s colors, linking each tint to human feelings and a sense of the divine. It expresses themes of renewal, love, courage, and hope, depicting life as a bright canvas filled with the soul’s virtues.
Through color and rhythm, it celebrates the beauty found in every aspect of existence.
The Colors That Lift the Soul #
In morning’s gold, the spirit wakes, Red heart beating, love creates. A flowing river, blue in thought, Calm, deep, where dreams are caught.
Green leaps forth in fields anew, Hopeful hands in sparkling dew. Yellow laughter lights the sky, Signs of joy that never die.
Purple whispers wisdom’s grace, Soft embrace in sacred space. Orange flames of courage bright Always glow through gentle night.
Spirit shimmers through every hue, Each shade reveals its virtue true. Life painted in tender streams, Carried on by longing dreams.
May life’s colors lift the soul to sing, No grief, but hope the spirit brings.
If you could meet a historical figure, who would it be and why?
Although this is a repeat prompt, it is a meaningful one. So I’m repeating the question, not the answer.
If I could meet a historical figure, I would meet the Son of God. I don’t want to pepper Him with questions. Not only would that be boring, but it would be a wasted opportunity. I’d rather we share conversations, laugh together over a meal, and sit in silence without needing anything explained.
I don’t need a reason to meet Him, do I? He is time itself. His life marks the dividing line of history – B.C. and A.D., the before and the after.
He remains the most debated, questioned, doubted, denied, misunderstood, yet also loved and followed. Not to forget, the most controversial figure in existence. Even His name is used as a curse word, which other deity carries that strange weight of reverence and disregard?
For me, He is the moment when darkness gives way to light. He is my Dawn After Dusk.
And this is how I imagine that meeting…
Dawn After Dusk
As the dawn breaks And the sky lights up, A new day begins – new stirrings within.
I look to the heavens – what do I see? The dark is gone; fresh hope renews. Through the morning fog, I see the light piercing through, calling out to me.
With a grateful heart, I stretch out my arms, receiving the offering that the day gently brings to me.
For me, meeting Him is not about knowing more, but being held by more.
As I walked barefoot on the sand, I saw a beautiful dark blue formation, and I thought, “How similar this sand is to my life, which is formed by the storm.” At any moment, sand can change, and so can my life, which could change instantly by life’s storms. (But, tabange me always, God.)
Nature teaches me a lot about life because it’s so connected to me. When I have solo time, I feel the embrace of the Earth that soothes my soul. I can ponder deeply, and it reminds me to be grateful for everything that I am.
I love to write something on the sand, and it reflects what’s inside of me.
And I love this verse this morning that says, “Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have believed,” found in John 20:29.
Thank you so much for being so kind, my amazing readers. God bless and stay amazing!
I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is fascinating: “What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?”
Some questions touch not just the mind, but the heart. This one made me pause, reflect, and revisit a chapter of my life that shaped me quietly, yet profoundly.
When Life Places You at a Crossroads
Every day, we make countless decisions—what to eat, what to wear, which task to prioritize.
Most pass without much thought. But occasionally, life places a choice before us so significant that it tests our strength, values, and emotional resilience.
For me, the hardest decision I ever made was choosing whether to hold on… or let go.
It wasn’t about material possessions or career promotions. It was about stepping away from a structured life in the bank, a routine I had known for decades, and pursuing my true passions—art and writing.
It meant taking voluntary retirement (VRS) years before my usual retirement date. Staying would have meant security and comfort; leaving would mean uncertainty, risk, and a leap into the unknown.
Why Hard Decisions Hurt So Much
Hard decisions challenge us emotionally. They force us to confront fears we often avoid:
Fear of change
Fear of regret
Fear of loss
Fear of the unknown
The mind calculates probabilities, while the heart hesitates. And yet, life quietly waits for us to make a choice.
The difficulty is not just in deciding, but in managing the emotional tug-of-war that follows.
Stepping away from something familiar—whether a job, a dream, or a relationship—feels like leaving the warmth of sunlight for a foggy path.
Yet often, that fog is the first step toward a clearer horizon.
A Personal Turning Point
When I made the decision to take VRS and devote myself to my passion for art and writing, it was not a sudden or dramatic choice. It was a quiet, heavy, deeply personal moment.
Staying would have meant delaying my dreams, and perhaps losing myself in routine. Leaving required courage, I wasn’t sure I had.
At the time, I felt as though I was tearing a page from a precious diary. But now, looking back, that choice opened a brighter, more fulfilling chapter.
It taught me that endings are not always failures—they can be beginnings in disguise.
Lessons from a Hard Decision
Every difficult decision is a teacher, strict yet fair. From my experience, I learned:
1. Growth begins outside the comfort zone Security feels safe, but true personal growth happens only when we step into the unfamiliar.
2. Loss can lead to clarity When we let go of what no longer serves us, we make room for peace, creativity, and self-discovery.
3. Live for yourself, not for others People will always have opinions. But only you live with your choices.
4. Courage is action in the presence of fear Fear does not vanish, but strength rises above it.
5. Trust your inner voice Listening to your instincts can guide you toward fulfillment in unexpected ways.
Embracing Personal Growth and Authenticity
Beyond that decision, I realized something important: self-improvement is not about following rules or meeting society’s expectations. It is about strengthening our abilities, cultivating our passions, and embracing our true selves.
Personal growth requires reflection, self-awareness, and a commitment to nurturing strengths rather than changing our essence.
By aligning our passions with our abilities, we create a synergy that fuels motivation, builds expertise, and brings fulfillment.
The decision to leave my banking career for art and writing allowed me to embrace this philosophy fully.
I learned that life is not only about professional accomplishments, but also about exploring inner potential, understanding emotions, and creating meaning.
A Message for Anyone at a Crossroads
If you face a tough decision today, remember:
Even the strongest storms eventually clear the sky. Life rewards honesty, courage, and authenticity.
Take time. Reflect. Trust your heart. And make your choice from a place of inner clarity and self-respect.
Yes, the decision to leave my secure career was the hardest of my life. But it was also the most rewarding. It reminded me that life is about courage, authenticity, and the pursuit of what truly inspires us.
Thank you, dear friends, for reading. May your decisions guide you toward peace, strength, and purpose. Until next time—stay blessed, stay courageous, and keep growing.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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In general, absofrickinlutely not. Sometimes we are led astray by our own intuition. Because of anxiety, I read somewhere. Sometimes our thoughts lie to us, and, you know, thoughts can turn into beliefs.
So I can’t really rely on what’s going on in my head.
The exception seems to be, and I’m very thankful for this, when it comes to parenting. I have very good instincts when it comes to parenting. Not that it’s been a cake walk, my three older kids tested me like there was no tomorrow throughout the teen years.
But there were times when I said no to things, although it wasn’t often, and it turned out for the best.
I’m not a fan of the upgraded Jetpack. Posts now feel like they end abruptly, as if someone sliced the text halfway and forgot to add the rest. “Hopefully WP goes back to the old, this is a classic case of fixing what isn’t broken.”
Why should an ending automatically be a new beginning? Why can’t it simply be an ending? The new beginning will come when it does, not necessarily immediately.
Understanding this duality – how in the same breath I joke and write nonsense, and then my poetry turns dark and depressing. One side of my brain thinks in light, while the other drifts into dark, both happening at once.
Why do we think growth must be dramatic or expect others to notice the evolution? Sometimes growth is simply choosing silence over reaction, walking away without announcing it, refusing to be pulled into an argument, or letting go of the need to have the last word.
How difficult is it to understand the “no entry, work in progress” sign? You can clearly see the mess and madness, yet cars and motorists still choose to go through the chaos. Another observation; people follow rules sincerely when they live abroad, but once they return home, they don’t. Just because a majority of the population ignores traffic rules doesn’t mean you must join them. Interesting how discipline gets left behind the moment people return home .
Why is the government not taking steps to provide animal shelters? The number of strays is heartbreaking and also worrying. There have been a few dog-attack incidents. Where is the sterilization program I keep hearing about? Animal welfare organisations are shutting down due to lack of funds, why can’t the government support them? I know not everyone is genuine, but surely the government has the means and resources to sift through that… provided the people in power are actually incorruptible themselves.
And why can’t I be grateful and still dislike washing dishes? Just because I don’t enjoy washing them doesn’t mean I’m ungrateful. Yes, more dishes means we have food to eat, but I can still dislike washing them . Gratitude and annoyance don’t have to be interlinked.
More neighborhood flora photos from my first roll of Kodacolor 200, all shot on my Pentax K-1000 with 100mm macro lens.
The walk continues, now with some flowers that are distinctly less yellow. Will they feel as flat as the photos in yesterday’s post, which were predominately yellow?
This flower was vibrantly red in real live, so this near oversaturation isn’t an exaggeration. f5.6, 1/250 sec.
At the end of the last post, I postulated that the images there underwhelmed me not because I’m a sub-par photographer but because maybe, just maybe, Kodacolor 200 has problems with yellow. Well, this photo does not feel flat to me. A tad overexposed, yes, but not wishy-washy flat.
So far, one point Photographer, zero points Kodacolor 200 when it comes to yellow.
Pink and orange flowers with good color reproduction, though maybe a bit overexposed. f5.6, 1/250 sec.
Colors are vibrant, contrast is definitely present. We also get decent detail in the shadows. This photo is not flat, and the Photographer now has two points.
Suck it, Kodacolor 200!
Bright colors again, with detail in the shadows. f8, 1/125 sec.
I like this photo. I was focused on the shadow of the stamen on the petal when framing it, but also drawn by the red at the heart of the flower fading to a yellow-orange. No details are washed out, but I do think the meter misled me here (and in the previous images), resulting in slight overexposure. But it absolutely pops.
The day before, I saw a flower like this one fully in bloom. On this day, however, they had all started to curl. f5.6, 1/125 sec.
Believe it or not, this flower was in shade when I took this photo. It is definitely overexposed, to the point that the flower, instead of attracting the eye, feels like a distraction, like the white background of the photographic paper has ripped through the image. This isn’t entirely Kodacolor 200’s fault, though it does suggest that there is less latitude in the highlights, which is a bummer. If the film was more forgiving of overexposure, this photo could have been OK.
At this point, I think I prefer Kodacolor 100 over 200. I had really high hopes when I went on this photo shoot based on the Kodacolor 100 results I’d gotten, but the results haven’t lived up to my expectations.
It’s possible deliberately underexposing slightly would help this emulsion, and my eye for composition might be handicapping it, but overall I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed so far.
Coming up: some more flora and fauna. And if those are insufficient to sell you (and me) on Kodacolor 200, I might have another use case for this film. I just haven’t decided if I like the photos that exhibit that case enough to post them.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and peaceful mood. Today’s writing prompt is both delightful and thought-provoking: “Do you or your family make any special dishes for the holidays?”
As I reflected on this, one festival immediately came to my mind—Chhath Puja, a deeply significant celebration for our family.
Chhath Puja is not just a festival;
It is a moment of spiritual connection, family bonding, and cultural pride. Every year, without fail, our entire family gathers at our native place to celebrate this special occasion.
The sense of togetherness and devotion that permeates the atmosphere is truly unparalleled.
And, of course, no celebration is complete without the special dishes that we prepare, which are as sacred as the rituals themselves.
The culinary highlights of Chhath Puja in our family include Thekua, Ladoo, Kheer, and Rotis made in traditional clay pots.
Each of these dishes carries its own story, significance, and flavor, making the festival memorable not just for the taste but for the love and effort that goes into preparing them.
Thekua is perhaps the most iconic of all
Yes, Thekua is perhaps the most iconic of all. It is a sweet, crispy delicacy made from wheat flour, jaggery, and ghee.
But what makes it truly special is not just the ingredients, but the ritual of making it together.
Every family member participates in rolling the dough, shaping it, and frying it to perfection.
It is said that helping in the preparation of Thekua brings spiritual merit and blessings.
Beyond religious belief, I have always found that the act of creating something together strengthens bonds and generates a sense of pride and joy.
Watching Thekua turn golden brown, filling the house with its sweet aroma, is a moment of simple yet profound happiness.
Then there are the Ladoos, round, soft, and inviting, made from ingredients like Rice flour, sugar, and ghee.
Their sweetness symbolizes the joy and abundance of life, and they are always distributed as prasad during the festival.
Similarly, Kheer, a rich, creamy rice pudding, is another dish that fills our hearts as much as it fills our stomachs.
The aroma of slowly simmered milk with rice and sugar, flavored with cardamom and garnished with nuts, brings back memories of generations who made these dishes before us. It’s comforting, nostalgic, and celebratory all at once.
The Roti made in clay pots is another special part of our Chhath Puja feast.
Unlike regular rotis, these are prepared in earthen pots, which impart a distinct earthy flavor and are considered more wholesome.
Eating this humble yet divine bread as prasad reminds us of our roots, the simplicity of life, and the sacredness of tradition.
What makes these dishes extraordinary
What makes these dishes extraordinary, however, is not only their taste but the collective effort and enthusiasm with which they are made.
Everyone in the family, from the youngest to the eldest, has a role to play. Children help in kneading dough or rolling small ladoos, while elders supervise and share their wisdom.
This cooperation and shared responsibility create an atmosphere of celebration even before the festival formally begins.
In our home, preparing Thekua or Kheer is not a task; it is a ritual, a joy, and a way to express love and devotion simultaneously.
The food prepared during Chhath Puja also embodies a deeper philosophy—it teaches patience, humility, and the beauty of working together.
The careful selection of ingredients, the meticulous cooking, and the eventual offering to the Sun God remind us that every small effort, when done with love and devotion, holds immense value.
It is a moment when spirituality and culinary art meet, and when the act of making food transcends mere sustenance to become a celebration of culture, family, and faith.
These traditions continue to the younger generations.
Through these special dishes, we also pass on traditions to the younger generations.
Cooking together becomes a living lesson in culture, faith, and family history. It is a way to ensure that the essence of Chhath Puja—and its culinary heritage—remains alive in our hearts and continues to inspire joy and devotion for years to come.
And finally, I would say, Yes, our family does prepare special dishes for the holidays, and Chhath Puja is the perfect example of how food can become a bridge between generations, a source of spiritual fulfillment, and a vessel of love and togetherness.
The joy of gathering, cooking, and sharing these dishes is unparalleled.
It is a vivid reminder that holidays are not just about rituals—they are about creating lasting memories, celebrating culture, and cherishing the bonds that tie us together.
Special Dishes that Bring Families Together
So, whenever I am asked whether we make special dishes for the holidays, my answer is simple: – Yes, and these dishes carry with them the love, devotion, and shared joy of an entire family.
In every bite of Thekua, every spoonful of Kheer, and every morsel of Ladoo, we celebrate not just a festival but life itself.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Honestly, when it works, I believe it’s trustworthy. There have been times when I didn’t listen to it and later realised I was right all along. But there have also been moments where it wasn’t intuition at all, just me being alert, aware, and reading my surroundings well.
My instinct is wonky at best. Truly unreliable when I need it.
But I do trust a few people’s instincts, especially the ones with a better success rate than mine. Between theirs and mine, I’m picking theirs every time.
Note: these are people I’m closest to, not just anyone .
New Daily Prompt: Are you overdoing it on social media? Are you worried others on social media think you’re overdoing it?
Why does it seem like my longest posts are always the result of my neuroses?
Ahem.
The thought I’m overbearing definitely gnaws at me late at night when I can’t sleep.
Specifically, I worry about my posts and interactions here on WordPress.
(Not that I’m anywhere else online.)
I post a lot of minutiae about my life here.
Some of it interesting, some not so much.
Some of it fictionalized for dramatic effect, some of it not.
For example, I talk about my ‘exciting’ adventures with crows. And my new Zen-inducing coffee ritual.
A lot.
No big deal, right?
But is it maybe too much?
If I was walking up to friends and colleagues every morning and unloading the same details in person, well, to be blunt, I’d be the guy people mutter warnings about to each other as they start avoiding me.
So I have to wonder, am I being annoying / boring / irritating when I do this? I try to put an interesting twist on these posts, but do I succeed in ameliorating the “Who gives a sh*t?!” component of those posts, or am I deluding myself?
I think we tell ourselves no one is forced to read this, and that’s true. But I don’t want to get old and dull here.
Of even more concern to me is comments.
I like interacting with people. Both in the comments on my site as well as others’.
And if a real human leaves me a comment, I want to reply.
But while I try to be thoughtful and on-topic, I also tend to be … verbose.
So it suddenly occurred to me that maybe I’m coming off as that guy who starts chatting with you at a party, and you’re being nice and nodding while trying to figure out a nice way to escape me. “Oh, I just saw my IRS auditor! I need to go ask her a question.”
It’s not exactly like there are visual or social cues to pick up on in a comment thread to clue you in you’ve exhausted this subject / worn out your welcome.
Unless you’re in a thread with someone who’s really blunt.
Maybe everything is fine and I’m just being insecure and paranoid.
Or maybe it’s a mix of both?
I don’t know, and that’s the worrying part. I don’t want to be ‘that guy’.
I’ve dealt with ‘that guy’, and I know how irritating he can be.
I don’t think I’m ‘that guy’, I don’t see anything in my interactions that would suggest I’m that guy, and no one has told me I’m that guy.
But if there’s one thing I know from my interactions with those guys, it’s that they never know they are, indeed, those guys.
Maybe my questioning it in and of itself puts me in the clear on this question.
Maybe.
But the thought of people rolling their eyes whenever I show up in their feed makes me cringe.
Do you suffer from this insecurity? Do you have people in your online spaces you’d rather ‘see’ the back of, and if so, how do you deal with them?
And I really, really hope this post didn’t cause your eyes to roll…
I woke up very early yesterday; hence, at noon while reading my book, I felt sleepy and knocked down in my hammock. I awoke by the call of Kuya, and I found out he had a plan. I’ve heard that they will join the cockfighting derby next week, and he prepared his roosters; thus, look at the rooftop.
(I’m sorry about it). Kuya doesn’t drink and smoke, so this is his vice.
After my screen break, I went home, and Kuya’s rooster, Sansho, entertained me again there. Look at his pose and their begging eyes waiting to throw them food. Surely, they made me smile.
And there’s another “commercial” to my evening routine. While I was browsing, Virgo had a visitor, the frog, and I caught his mischievous behavior. Then, I managed to document the following scene that I still enjoy.
It’s fun to have many pets in our surroundings. Each moment can be full of joy. This morning, we fed our lovely fish, and we hope they grow healthy and multiply. But Darryl’s suggestion is very true. I laughed about it, but yes, we must not name them, or else…. You know what I mean.
Thank you so much for always tuning in, my amazing readers. Know that I appreciate you always. I can’t read all your posts, but I’ll do my best to reciprocate your kindness.
This is an inspiring poem about pursuing dreams, finding inner strength, and overcoming challenges.
With vivid imagery and rhythmic rhymes, it encourages courage and passion, showing that no challenge is too big when you follow your heart.
“Wings of My Dreams”
I am still wondering what I feel, I thought my youth was strong and real. I thought the world was mine to hold, Yet life feels different, what I am told.
I dream of flying through the skies, Awake to see the truth in my eyes. One day I’ll show the world my ways, The dreams stayed through nights and days.
I need a hero deep inside, A fire of hope I cannot hide. Through storms and thunder, I will rise, My heart the compass, my soul the skies.
With every step, my spirit sings, Life is bright when guided by wings.
I’ve been trying to find more beauty and calm in the world, especially right before heading into the crucible of the day job.
And in making that effort, I’ve succeeded in finding moments I want to capture.
Usually, as a photograph.
When I don’t have a camera.
Or do, but can’t take a photo.
Such as when I’m driving.
I had many such moments today.
Beauty that made me smile and gave me hope for the world.
Even if for just a fleeting moment.
But I had only one moment where I had a camera in hand.
If my cell phone counts as a camera.
(Is that a snobbish attitude to have about cell phone cameras? Probably, but I don’t care.)
The dew on this heather caught my eye while I was psyching up myself to get in the car and go to work.
And I thought it was beautiful and wanted to capture some of that beauty and carry it away with me to what promised to be another long day.
So I did.
I’m not sure if a cell phone camera (or screen, if you’re viewing this on a phone) does this moment justice, but it serves as an excellent bookmark for my memory. And a zoom in for those with small screens.
holding on or letting go silence and unsaid words roots or wings longing or arrival weight or lightness still waters or rushing streams
I came across this quote
A man on a thousand mile walk has to forget his goal and say to himself every morning, ‘Today I’m going to cover twenty-five miles and then rest up and sleep.’
Because it has Christmas and my birthday, because I always prided myself on being northern tough, Canadian tough and girl tough, it was always December for me.
December always felt like a pretty word to me. It’s got so much on March. March. What a drab word.
Although I do actually prefer summer over winter these days, I’d feel bad if I told December it wasn’t my first love anymore and I’d traded it in for July or August.
So I’ll stick with December. I’ll romanticize the crap out of it when it arrives with the snow up to my knees and those icy cold temps.
More photos from my first roll of Kodacolor 200, all shot on my Pentax K-1000 with 100mm macro lens.
I went for a walk through the neighborhood when I shot these, probably getting a lot of confused and / or suspicious glances from the neighbors.
But walking Doggo every morning, I couldn’t help but notice all the bright and colorful flowers growing around here.
And I thought they’d be an excellent test for Kodacolor 200.
I ended up taking a lot of photos, and rather than bore you with them all at once, I’m going to break this post up into two parts.
That way I can bore you with them over two days instead of one!
Fall here isn’t spectacular like some places, but we still get some color. f8, 1/125 sec
The film doesn’t disappoint. Color reproduction is still accurate, and the latitude is good to, although this is hardly the most challenging lighting to be shooting in. Something like Phoenix I (or even II), however, I think would have trouble reproducing the shadows this well.
Here we get a bit of wildlife. In my head, this shot was much closer so the cat was more dominant. But the cat was clearly spooked by me, and I wanted to get something before it ran off. Which it did as I got closer. f5.6, 1/500 sec.
The color reproduction here is good, but this photo feels flat to me. There are shadows, but the contrast feels … lacking. I’m not sure how I could have avoided that. I think getting closer, and a different angle where we get less of the house in the background, would have helped.
I wanted to check on the tiny inhabitants after the monster cat had run off, but they were all hunkered down in their tiny houses. f5.6, 1/250 sec.
I couldn’t open up the aperture much more, but looking at this photo, I wish I had. I’m also beginning to suspect that with this film, photos that aren’t macro or close up might not be well-suited to bright sunlight like this. I don’t recall any Kodacolor 100 photos feeling flat to me like these last two have…
Finally, a close-up of the flowers behind the tiny houses. I deliberately set out to get a shot with highlights and shadows. f5.6, 1/250 sec.
This photo also feels flat to me, though not nearly as much as the previous two. I’m wondering if the yellow has something to do with it.
I mean, it can’t be the photographer, right?
Coming up next: some flowers that aren’t yellow. Will they prove or disprove my hypothesis?
This poem is inspired by an image of an angel with golden wings and a red dress, glowing in a bright world. Through simple rhyme and gentle imagery, the verses show how color represents hope, prayer, and change.
Even in sorrow, the poem suggests that life can be uplifted—colored by strength and grace, like the angel’s wings.
# The Angel’s Message #
With her gentle wings of golden hue, She bows her head, the world in view, Beauty in crimson dress in vibrant flow, Sings life’s bright spirit, soft and slow.
Her hands are folded in hope and prayer, Brushing silent dreams upon the air, Dark tresses frame a quiet face, Yet, bathed in a universe of grace.
Behind her glows the red of love, Surrounding light from up above, Each stroke of color, bold and bright, Turns stillness into dancing light.
An angel born from heartfelt art, She lets her colors paint her heart, For even sorrow learns to sing, That life is colored by its wings.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and peaceful state of mind. Today’s writing prompt poses a question that feels simple, yet reveals profound emotional depth the moment we pause to reflect: “Who are your current most favorite people?”
Our favorite people are rarely the most powerful, the most celebrated, or the ones the world loudly admires.
Instead, they are the ones whose presence uplifts us, whose words echo in our hearts long after conversations fade, and whose warmth makes even an ordinary day feel extraordinary.
As we move through the shifting chapters of life, the list of our “favorite people” naturally evolves.
Today, I want to share something deeply personal—the individuals who inspire me the most at this moment, and why they occupy such a cherished space in my heart.
1. Those Who Inspire Without Even Trying
Every life is blessed with someone who awakens our better nature simply by being themselves. These people carry quiet dignity and speak with a gentleness that hides oceans of wisdom.
In my own life, my brother, my mentors, my mother, and above all, my elder sister, are my current most favorite people.
They inspire not through grand acts, but through their steady consistency—waking up each day with purpose, standing strong through storms, and teaching me silently that resilience is an art.
Inspiration often doesn’t arrive wrapped in motivational speeches; it hides in discipline, patience, sacrifice, and unwavering goodness.
2. My Elder Sister — The Heart of My Inspiration
Among all the blessings life has given me, my Big Sister holds a place that no words can fully describe. She is the person I admire the most today—and perhaps always.
Recently, she celebrated her 84th birthday, yet she remains more active, more disciplined, and in many ways, even stronger than I am.
Just a month ago, I visited my native place, Patna, during the auspicious festival of Chhath Puja.
And to my amazement, at 84 years of age, she continues to perform every ritual with the same devotion and determination she has shown all her life.
Anyone familiar with Chhath Puja knows how physically demanding and spiritually intense it is. But she never complains, never hesitates, never steps back. Dedication is the language she speaks fluently.
From my earliest days, she has been a guiding force—a blend of mentor, guardian, friend, and silent strength.
Through childhood mischief, youthful confusion, and adult responsibilities, she has stood beside me with profound patience and unwavering love.
3. Inspiration Unveiled: Lessons from Her Life
My sister represents resilience in its purest form. Her life has not been easy, yet she has always faced challenges with dignity and courage. Through her example, I learned one of life’s greatest truths:
Adversity is not a dead end; it is a stepping stone.
Her unwavering commitment to her values has shaped my character more than any book or classroom ever could. She taught me that strength is quiet, that kindness is powerful, and that dedication—especially dedication to family and responsibilities—is a form of worship.
4. The Pinnacle of Support
Our favorite people are not just those who celebrate our happiness but those who anchor us during our storms. My sister has been that anchor—a pillar of support during the most difficult moments of my life.
Her belief in my potential has fueled my determination. Whenever I doubted myself, she stood beside me with reassuring faith, reminding me that I am never alone. Such support is rare, precious, and deeply humbling.
5. Lessons That Shape a Lifetime
Life is an endless journey of learning, and my sister has been a fountain of wisdom. From handling relationships with grace to embracing change with courage, from maintaining discipline to valuing education—her teachings have become the compass of my life.
Her empathy taught me to understand beyond words. Her kindness taught me to see beyond flaws. Her hard work taught me to dream beyond limitations.
I often marvel at her strength and achievements, especially considering the adversities she faced. Her disciplined upbringing, her emphasis on values, her belief in education—especially for me, the youngest—shaped my own ethics and commitment.
6. The Ripple Effect of Her Influence
What makes someone a “favorite person” is not just their presence in your life but the impact of their character on your personality. My sister’s influence extends far beyond personal interactions.
Her integrity, compassion, determination, and spiritual strength have subtly shaped not only my life but also the lives of those who observe her and learn through her actions.
Her life is a gentle reminder that greatness does not require fame; it requires depth, sincerity, and service.
A Journey of Gratitude and Grace
Yes, dear friends, Among all the remarkable individuals who enrich my life today, the one who stands at the very center of my admiration, gratitude, and love is my Big Sister.
Through shared memories, sacrifices, wisdom, and unwavering support, she has become not just my favorite person but a cornerstone of my identity.
As we navigate the shifting landscapes of life, may we all cherish those who leave a lasting imprint on our hearts—those who shape our stories, lift our spirits, and remind us that life is meaningful because of the love we receive and the love we give.
Our favorite people are not chosen by logic—they are chosen by the soul. And my sister, without doubt, is one of the brightest souls in my journey.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Besides crawling into my bed at night you mean? Okay umm…our city is pretty tiny so the options are not plentiful. But since we’re smack dab in the middle of the boreal forest, I’d say walking on our trails is my fave.
In nature. Amongst big trees.
The actual earth beneath my feet instead of concrete.
This air I breathe – is it real, alive, comforting or confining? Am I truly breathing or being sucked in, borrowing from time, from existence? Living in dreams and illusions while reality moves on without me.
(Caught between the inhale, where every breath feels borrowed, every moment out of reach – unanchored).
I shot my first roll of Kodacolor 200 last month, immediately after my roll of Kodacolor 100.
The Kodacolor 100 will be hard to beat, but ISO 200 does give you a bit more flexibility when it comes to lighting. Which means, if the color holds up, I should like Kodacolor 200 more.
Most of this roll was me going walk-about in my neighborhood, shooting a variety of bright and colorful flowers.
As with previous recent rolls, these were all shot on my Pentax K-1000 with 100mm macro lens.
We’ll start with the magenta heather.
(I think it’s heather. And magenta. If I’m wrong, let me know what type of flower / color it actually is!)
Handheld shot, 100mm lens, with a light breeze blowing. f5.6, 1/250 sec
We’re off to a good start. Ignoring the exposed portion of the leader (I’m always trying to squeeze as many images as I can out of a roll), the color is vibrant and realistic.
Handheld shot, 100mm lens, with a light breeze blowing. f5.6, 1/250 sec
Now here’s the first interesting thing I see. The exposure settings for the above two photos are identical, and yet the color is slightly different.
A couple of possibilities come to mind:
The lighting might have changed between shots due to, for example, clouds moving across the sun.
The scanner was thrown off by the bright exposed leader portion of the first shot, shifting the color profile.
My bet is on the second, as the sky was clear that day.
(And thank goodness I’m taking notes about stuff like that!)
Which means, at least with respect to getting my negatives scanned, I need to think about whether or not I want to try and squeeze in an extra half or third of a picture on the roll.
For the next pictures, I wanted to use extension tubes, which meant a tripod as well.
f4, 1/30 sec, extension tube #3
I like the color and the sharp fuzz, but I think having so much of this out of focus is distracting. I expected this at the time, but unfortunately, the flowers were swaying in an intermittent breeze, and a higher f-stop to get a deeper depth of focus would have required a longer exposure that would have led to motion blur and still no sharp focus.
For this last photo of the heather, I don’t seem to have recorded the exposure settings. Which is really irritating.
I know I used an extension tube here, and I know it wasn’t #3. I think it was #1.
The color is bright and alive in all these photos, but I’m finding that in these pictures (and earlier ones with different film) I don’t have enough environmental control. The air will be dead still when I go out, but as I set up, a breeze starts coming and going, and the flowers sway, and for macro photography, that’s the kiss of death.
I don’t hate the photos, and the film is performing just fine, but I don’t like the results I’m getting due to a lack of control. I can’t keep the still life … still!
Comparing these to the photos I took with Kodacolor 100, I think the ISO 200 version leans a little more red, though that could be down to lighting differences. One of these days, I need to post a side-by-side comparison.
But so far, I’m pleased with Kodacolor 200.
Coming up next: I ramble through my neighborhood and capture some of the local flora and fauna.
Painting is my chosen skill in retirement because it offers both a soulful outlet and a lifelong invitation to growth.
This reflective blog explores why painting appeals in later life, what it teaches about presence and resilience, and how nurturing a creative hobby can add meaning and joy to any age.
A Lifelong Gift: Learning at Every Age
Pausing in the gentle hush of the afternoon, I recall a thoughtful question a close friend asked me: “What skill would you choose to learn as a hobby in this chapter of your life?”
At first, it felt like a simple invitation to daydream, but as I sat quietly, I realized it was a gentle nudge to explore my desires, motivations, and hidden strengths.
At this golden stage of life, gratitude fills me for good health and the undiminished zeal to try something new.
Learning, I believe, is among life’s most generous gifts. Age or circumstance is no barrier—learning remains an open door, inviting us to see the world afresh and embrace new aspects of ourselves.
Every skill enriches our days in unexpected ways, coloring life with fresh understanding.
Why Painting Speaks to My Soul
Four years ago, the idea of learning art—painting and drawing—quietly took root. I picked up a brush, dipped it into color, and discovered a world beyond words.
Painting, for me, is a language as old as humanity itself—a way to capture stories, spill emotions, and celebrate the beauty that surrounds us.
When I imagine which skill I want to nurture, it’s always painting that calls.
There’s magic in watching colors blend, in chasing the play of sunlight on leaves, or the drama of a stormy sky.
Painting sharpens my eyes, slows my breath, and urges me to honor the fleeting moments others might pass by.
Embracing the Journey: Lessons from the Canvas
With every painting, I find myself dancing between patience and discovery. My early work showed awkward shapes and unruly colors—yet every attempt brought new lessons.
Each brushstroke, whether it achieved what I hoped or not, built resilience, patience, and a quiet confidence that beauty often emerges from persistence and so-called mistakes.
Painting reminds me that imperfection isn’t a flaw, but a vital part of creativity.
The courage to keep trying, to experiment, and to enjoy the unfolding narrative feels as rewarding as any perfect finish.
The Happy Variety of Skills
Of course, painting may not be everyone’s answer. Some find joy in music, gardening, cooking, photography, or even coding.
Every pursuit reflects our unique longing—to make something, nurture, connect, or simply explore life in new ways.
What matters is the shared power of skills to spark curiosity and infuse our days with adventure.
Listen to Your Heart: A Gentle Invitation
If this question has inspired you, take a quiet pause.
Write down three skills you’ve always admired or dreamt of exploring. Set aside judgment or self-doubt—just listen to that small voice within.
Naming a dream on paper is a bold, beautiful step toward bringing it to life, no matter your age.
Along the way, savor the little milestones: a new brushstroke, a surprising mix of colors, or the dawning pride as a blank canvas springs to life.
Remember—learning is less about perfection and more about embracing the process, one joyful step at a time.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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After twenty years in this city, I still have to find a favorite place. Am I sad or just hard to please?
The city has grown on me, but honestly, I think that has more to do with the people than the landmarks. I’ve got used to the crowds and the endless traveling (no real choice there), but the weather? Still not my friend.
City life feel worlds apart from the hill station I come from. Back home, we had these little lanes, tiny nooks and corners we used to call “lovers’ lane” , and plenty of places you could walk to or reach with just a short drive which does not burn a hole in your pocket either.
Here, you have to plan everything… calculate the travel time, the cost, the energy you’ll lose in traffic.
If I want quiet, it means leaving the city. And with the traffic, that trip alone is enough to kill the mood. But maybe the quiet is worth it, long enough to let all the frustration out… just in time to make space for the next frustration on the way back .
Perhaps if I explore the city more, I’ll finally find a favorite place, but only if I don’t leave first. And that really depends on whether I feel like leaving the house… or leaving altogether.
One thing to look forward to, the Max Amini show next week. I hope we don’t forget .
Oooh speaking of historical figures, I’ve been watching Death by Lightning on Netflix and it’s pretty darn good. I’m only on episode two and haven’t taken the time yet to google how much of it is actually true. Being that it’s American history and I’m Canadian, I really have no idea if this Garfield guy was actually a president. But I’ll find out.
As I’m typing, the Saskatchewan Roughriders are celebrating winning the Grey Cup (our version of the Super Bowl) and though they are Winnipeg’s biggest rival, I was happy to see them beat Montreal.
I didn’t really watch the game but view it as an excuse to make some yummy appies for supper. I made Big Mac sliders, buffalo chicken dip, a greek dip and my version of chicken waffles. It was delish.
Yesterday we had Sid’s 5th bday party at the bowling alley. He had a great time. His actual birthday is Tuesday though so one last day tomorrow to be 4. The little light of our lives, Sid.
I remember the first year he was with us I kept thinking, please let us have him until his birthday so we can give him an amazing day. That was the year he turned 2. And we were able to.
Now 3 birthdays later and he’s still all ours. Such a blessing.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and curious mood! Today’s writing prompt is one that instantly warms the heart: “What is good about having a pet?”
The moment I read it, I could almost hear the soft sound of paws, the gentle rustle of feathers, and a comforting purr from a memory.
Pets, in their loving ways, bring a special magic to our daily lives—a magic that can’t be bought, only felt.
Companionship Beyond Words
In a world that’s often busy, noisy, and sometimes lonely, pets are living reminders of the beauty of companionship.
They don’t need fancy words or long conversations to make you feel understood. A wagging tail, a curious stare, or the soft brush of fur against your leg can speak volumes.
They’re there when words don’t work—listening without judging, loving without wanting anything in return.
A dog next to you on a hard day, or a cat snuggling by you on a rainy afternoon—these quiet times heal us.
Pets fill the empty spaces in our hearts, and suddenly, we are not alone.
The Kind of Love That Never Wavers
What’s truly good about having a pet is the kind of love they give—the pure, unconditional kind. You could have a rough day, forget a task, or lose your temper, but your pet will still greet you like you are the most important person in the world.
A dog’s loyal eyes, a cat’s soft purr, even the playful chirps of a bird—all remind us that love doesn’t require perfection.
It only requires presence. Pets don’t care about our flaws or failures. They see us, love us, and stay—always.
Health, Happiness, and Healing
Pets bring genuine health benefits too. People with pets often live happier, longer, and more balanced lives.
A morning walk with your dog becomes a peaceful ritual—a moment to breathe, stretch, and smile.
Feeding or grooming a pet adds rhythm to life, a sense of purpose that keeps us grounded.
The laughter they spark, the calm they bring, and the responsibility they inspire all contribute to our physical and mental well-being.
Science agrees: petting an animal can lower blood pressure, reduce stress, and release “feel-good” hormones that lift our spirits.
Anchors in a Drifting World
There’s something profoundly comforting about the constancy of pets. In a world that keeps changing—people moving, jobs shifting, seasons passing—our pets remain steady.
Their routines—waiting by the door, following our footsteps, curling up in their favorite spots—become part of our rhythm, weaving a silent bond that feels eternal.
And when the day ends, their quiet presence beside us feels like a promise: no matter what happens outside, home will always hold love inside.
A Memory Named Bruno
This question led me down memory lane, to a time when my loyal companion, Bruno, a magnificent German Shepherd, graced my life with joy, love, and unforgettable moments.
Bruno wasn’t just a pet—he was family, a silent guardian and furry therapist who always seemed to know how I was feeling. His absence still echoes through the hallways of my home and heart.
Bruno taught me the true meaning of companionship. His playful antics, protective instincts, and unwavering love reminded me that pets don’t just live with us—they live for us.
From resting his head on my lap when I felt low to bouncing joyfully on sunny days, he filled every moment with warmth and light.
The Best Pets: Dogs – Loyal Hearts on Four Legs
Dogs are rightly called “man’s best friend.” Their loyalty, intelligence, and intuitive nature create unbreakable bonds. They communicate through body language, expressive eyes, and affectionate gestures. In return, they give their whole hearts.
The presence of a dog like Bruno shows us that love is not measured in words—it is measured in shared moments, in comfort, in joyful presence.
They offer adventure, playfulness, and a quiet security that few other companions can provide.
The Worst Pets: Exotic Animals – A Beautiful Burden
Not every animal makes a suitable pet. Exotic creatures like snakes, monkeys, or big cats can be fascinating but require highly specialized care. They have specific dietary, environmental, and emotional needs that are challenging to replicate in a home.
Monkeys, despite their intelligence, can become unpredictable, and reptiles or snakes offer little companionship.
These animals aren’t “bad”—they belong to the wild, where they can live freely. Trying to domesticate them often does more harm than good, both for the animal and the owner.
Cherished Memories and Life Lessons
Pets teach us to live in the moment. Bruno didn’t worry about the past or the future. He savored every walk, every treat, every cuddle. He showed me that love, laughter, and loyalty exist in the simplest acts.
Even small, fleeting moments—a stolen sock, a playful bark, a contented purr—can leave lasting impressions.
Their joy, innocence, and devotion remind us to slow down, appreciate life, and embrace love fully.
The Light They Leave Behind
So, what’s good about having a pet? Everything. They bring laughter to our mornings, peace to our nights, and love to the spaces in between. Their paw prints may fade from the floor, but never from our hearts.
In the end, pets remind us that home isn’t just made of walls—it’s made of hearts that beat together, human and animal alike.
And sometimes, the greatest gift of all is the quiet realization that love, in its purest form, walks on four legs and answers to a name.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I haven’t felt like reading at all these past two days, not even blogs. I browsed a few, but that’s about it. On Saturday, I ended up binge-watching The Beast In Me. It’s been a long time since I binged anything.
My daughter’s exams have also started. Anyone who knows me knows I dislike exams. I still don’t understand the point. My children, however, are completely unbothered, exams or not, life goes on as usual. My daughter actually told me she’ll study next year .
Meanwhile, our roads are getting dug up. Our lane is an absolute mess. I’m convinced my hair is covered in dust. And the notice says the work will take seven months . Guess the contractor has nothing else to do .
Back home, the Cherry Blossom Festival just concluded. It seems to be growing in popularity every year, with international artists performing, turning it into a must-visit event, not just for the shows but the festival itself. My small town isn’t so small anymore. And I’ll have to wait for the right moment to visit… working school days and all .
Funny how entertainment can surprise you with unexpected wisdom and when I wasn’t looking. While watching The Beast In Me, there was a line about how we choose to look at ourselves, how we deny our own complicity in situations because blaming someone else is easier than facing our own truth. That hit deeper than expected.
A while back, I watched another crime series and learned that the cuckoo is a parasitic bird. Not only does it lay its eggs in another bird’s nest, but its young also kill and eat the host’s chicks. That is cruelty beyond my comprehension. Makes me think how we humans are not much different when some form of wealth and materialism is involved.
Then a K-drama taught me about orchids, how overwatering causes the roots to rot. To save the plant, the damaged roots have to be carefully pruned and the orchid needs to be repotted in fresh material. I guess the lesson here is that sometimes our own roots need pruning too. It doesn’t mean the plant is old or useless – the roots are still strong, they just need a new environment to breathe and grow again. And once it settles, it still branches, grows leaves, and still provide shade. The roots mean stability and wisdom for the younger ones, and those same roots can offer nourishment for others growing beside it.
Quite a lot to absorb from just a few episodes, maybe that’s why they stuck in my forgetful brain .
Anyways, I was telling my daughter that one of her friends is incredibly loud when she talks. My daughter casually replied, “She speaks in caps lock.” I burst out laughing.
Which now makes me wonder… do I laugh in caps lock too .
In a world that often feels rushed, relentless, and perfection-obsessed, pause with me for a moment.
Look in the mirror—not just at the surface, but at the miracle staring back. You are beautiful. Not because of flawless features, filtered perfection, or social media standards, but because of the quiet, profound truths woven into your existence.
Here are 20 reasons why. Let them sink in like sunlight on your skin.
1. You exist against impossible odds. From a single spark in a vast cosmos, trillions of cells aligned to form you. The probability of your existence? Astronomically slim.
And yet, here you are—breathing, thinking, reading this. That alone is breathtaking.
2. You bring joy and leave peace. From the moment you were born, you became a source of light—crying while your parents beamed with wonder.
When you leave, others will grieve, but your life will have touched the human story with love at both ends.
3. Desire is part of your design. To love, to connect, to feel—this is human, honest, and beautiful. Desire is not vulgar; it is the pulse of life itself, a reminder that we are alive.
4. You are unrepeatable. No one shares your exact fingerprint, laugh, or midnight thoughts. Even identical twins diverge in soul. Your uniqueness is a cosmic signature.
5. You can see. Open your eyes. Colors explode: cerulean skies, emerald leaves, the amber of a lover’s gaze. Billions live without this gift. Sight isn’t just vision—it’s wonder.
6. Someone wishes you well. A text, a call, a whispered “hello” from a child—these ordinary gestures are extraordinary reminders: you matter.
7. You fight and rise. Life is not easy. Every scar earned through effort becomes a badge of courage. That resilience? That’s breathtaking.
8. Your pain connects you. Everyone carries invisible weights. Knowing you are not alone transforms suffering into shared humanity. Empathy is beauty in motion.
9. A mother made you possible. Nine months of shelter, a lifetime of sacrifice—her body was your first home. Honor that origin story.
10. Money reveals, but doesn’t define. It teaches priorities, exposes character, and shows what truly matters. Beauty lies in knowing when to stop counting and start living.
11. School days echo forever. Chalk dust, cafeteria laughter, first crushes—those fleeting years shaped your humor, your dreams, your friendships. Nostalgia is not weakness; it’s love for your younger self.
12. Impermanence is freedom. Jobs end, hearts break, trends fade. Nothing lasts forever, which liberates you to risk, love, and let go.
13. Fortunes flip fast. Billionaires become paupers, paupers inherit. Obsess less over wealth, more over experiences. Stories make life rich.
14. Karma keeps the ledger. Actions ripple. Lie, and trust erodes. Help, and doors open. Goodness is strategic and radiant.
15. Laughter resets everything. A genuine belly laugh erases tension, unites strangers, and heals silently. Your ability to find humor in chaos? Pure magic.
16. Forgiveness redeems. Letting go of grudges, especially against yourself, is power reclaimed. That mercy glows.
17. Your voice can change minds. One conversation, one post, one song—words wield influence. Speaking truth with kindness? That is beauty with impact.
18. You are enough, right now. Not thinner, richer, or braver. This moment—flawed, tired, trying—you are the universe experiencing itself. That alone is extraordinary.
19. You dream of a colorful life. While machines process data, you conjure impossible worlds nightly. Dreams are not rest—they are your mind’s art gallery.
Tonight, let your mind graffiti the void. Tomorrow, carry a fragment back: the scent of an impossible flower, the weightlessness of flight, the stranger’s eyes that felt like home.
You are not just a body paying bills—you are a creator, a traveler, a walking gallery of worlds no one else will ever visit.
20. You simply are. Every heartbeat, every breath, every small act of living is a declaration: you exist, and that is enough. Forever enough.
So next time doubt creeps in, return to this list. Read it aloud. Share it. Tattoo one line on your heart. You are beautiful because you are. And that truth will always, unshakeably, remain.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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What’s the first impression you want to give people?
Oh boy… another I, me, myself. First impressions are such a hit or miss. I’ve misjudged people, and I’ve definitely been misjudged. Not all first impressions are real or reflect someone’s true personality. It also depends on what a person is going through in that moment or season. Should anyone be forever remembered or judged based on a single first impression?
Sometimes we meet people in the middle of a storm, or on one of those unexpectedly good days that make them seem chirpier than usual. Personally, half the time people meet me when I’m coming off a rage-high, desperately needing caffeine, or running on sleep deprivation . So which version is the “real” me?
We evolve with time, and life keeps changing us. A chance encounter or a first meeting is just a glimpse into a single page of a much bigger book. We’re beautiful, complicated human beings. We deserve more than a quick glance to be known, understood, and maybe even liked .
Nevertheless… my first impression could be any one of these, take your pick .
I hope this blog finds you smiling today. Let me ask you something simple—but surprisingly tricky: Do you trust your instincts?
That little gut feeling you get when something seems “off” or when you just know something is right—do you listen to it, or do you second-guess yourself?
Instincts are fascinating. They appear quietly, almost like a whisper from within.
A sudden nudge toward a new opportunity, a subtle warning in a conversation, or even a creative spark—you might call it intuition, gut feeling, or inner voice.
Whatever the name, it’s our brain’s way of guiding us, often faster than our conscious reasoning can keep up.
What Is Intuition Anyway?
Intuition is unconscious knowledge. It’s that inner voice that says, “Pay attention,” or “This is the right path.” While logic dominates our conscious decisions, intuition works in the background, connecting experiences, observations, and memories in ways we aren’t always aware of.
Science backs this up. Our brains constantly process information—much of it below our awareness. Intuition is the product of this rapid, subconscious analysis.
That “hunch” you feel? It’s your brain drawing on a lifetime of experiences to guide you.
Why Listen to Your Instincts?
Trusting your intuition isn’t about ignoring logic—it’s about enriching your decisions with depth and subtle insight. Here’s why it matters:
Better Decision-Making: Intuitive choices are often accurate and efficient, especially when time or information is limited.
Boosted Creativity: Some of the most innovative ideas come from intuition, offering perspectives that logic alone might miss.
Greater Self-Awareness: Listening to your inner voice helps you align with your true self and improves emotional balance.
How to Tune In
Not everyone is naturally in sync with their instincts—but the good news is, intuition can be developed.
Practice Mindfulness: Meditation, yoga, or simply quiet reflection helps you notice your thoughts and feelings without judgment.
Listen to Your Body: Physical sensations often carry intuitive signals—a flutter in your chest, a sense of calm, or slight unease.
Reflect on Past Choices: Think of times when you trusted your gut. What worked? What didn’t? Reflection strengthens trust.
Start Small: Try trusting your instincts in minor decisions, like what to eat or wear. Gradually expand to bigger choices.
Embrace Uncertainty: Following intuition often means stepping into the unknown, but that’s where growth and opportunity live.
My Own Journey
I wasn’t always a believer. Logic and planning ruled my life. However, over time, I began to notice the quiet yet powerful guidance of my intuition. One of the biggest moments came when choosing a career.
My academic background was in agriculture, a field I had studied and prepared for thoroughly.
But something inside me pulled toward banking—a completely different path. Rationally, it didn’t make sense. But my gut insisted.
I took the leap. And looking back, it was one of the best decisions of my life. That choice led me to growth, opportunity, and fulfillment I hadn’t imagined.
It taught me a lesson I now carry with me: instincts aren’t random—they’re often reflections of deep-seated wisdom.
My Final Submission
So, the next time a decision arises—big or small—pause. Listen. Trust the subtle signals your mind and body are giving you.
Let your instincts enrich your reasoning, rather than competing with it.
Instincts are like an internal compass. They don’t guarantee the outcome, but they guide you toward choices that feel authentic, aligned, and meaningful.
Sometimes they warn, sometimes they nudge, and sometimes they push you toward adventure.
Trusting your instincts doesn’t mean ignoring logic. It means integrating your inner wisdom into your decision-making. It means embracing uncertainty with curiosity. And most importantly, it means listening to yourself.
So, dear friends, trust your gut. Let that inner voice lead you. You might just find that life becomes a little more aligned, a little more exciting, and a lot more fulfilling when you do.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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The eyes of my cats tell me, “Where’s our yummy meal?” That’s because we all consumed our fish a day before, and my sister and Mama will still go to town to buy a viand. This was the scene while our neighbor pruned our tree.
In the afternoon, while my aunt and I were talking, some cuties visited us inside, and I took the moment to capture their adorable beauty.
Niba and Nibo
Elsewhere, my nephew was eager to watch his sprunki, but his mommy was still singing shortly, so I tickled him to forget his “begging.” But his laugh and runs look like a girly thing? Watch out, Daddy!
Alright. My youngest sister asked me to clean the house since her colleagues will visit us today; hence, I’m awake at 3 to write this blog while Virgo is on my lap now.
I’ll catch up with you soon, my amazing readers. Thank you so much, and enjoy your Sunday! Stay joyful.
I asked the zebra Are you black with white stripes? Or white with black stripes? And the zebra asked me, Or you good with bad habits? Or are you bad with good habits? Are you noisy with quiet times? Or are you quiet with noisy times? Are you happy with some sad days? Or are you sad with some happy days? Are you neat with some sloppy ways? Or are you sloppy with some neat ways? And on and on and on and on And on and on he went. I’ll never ask a zebra About stripes Again.
During my last trip to the thift store, back in September, I found three books in amongst the mess of books. And I mean mess.
The owner of the store has way too much of everything in there and the books that were usually lined up on shelves in a sort of organized fashion, were in huge Rubbermaid totes and randomly lying all over the place. Even the Rubbermaid tote was haphazardly situated on top of a pile of shoes. Thank goodness Bella-Lena was there to help hold books as I started digging.
Last weekend I started one of those books, it’s called Loaded – Women and Addiction and it’s written by Jill Talbot. I’m a sucker for autobiographies but so far this book is a tad slow.
I only got to chapter three last weekend and really didn’t have the want to pick it up during the week. The author seems to repeat things over and over, so it’s not super duper keeping my interest, but I will keep at it.
It might get better as it goes.
Cordelia taking a picture of Sid on the ferry from Vancouver to Nanaimo in 2023
This is a powerful journey from darkness to self-liberation. It speaks of breaking the chains of fear and reclaiming inner strength.
Through pain, courage is born — and the poem celebrates that quiet, radiant moment when the soul chooses freedom over fear.
# Finally Free #
They held me close with hands unseen, Their whispers cold, their claws unclean. They bound my heart, they tied my will, They taught me silence — to stay still..
I lived in fear — a whispered plea, A captive to what haunted me. Their voices echoed, sharp and near, They fed my heart with doubt and fear.
But the fire was born within my chest, A spark that would not be suppressed. No ropes, no chains, no shadowed cry, Could cage the soul that learns to fly.
The chains they forged began to break, Each link is undone for my own sake. Their claws fell back, their power died, As courage bloomed where tears had dried.
Now I stand tall — the night is gone, The dawn within keeps shining on. No longer bound by what I see, I am my truth — I’m finally free.
Honestly? No book right now. I’m still trying to catch up on all the blogs I’ve missed. My mind feels a bit crowded these days, so I’m taking it slow, giving myself room to actually absorb what I read instead of rushing through it.
Life is noisy enough, and I do have my own little noise-polluter at home . So I’m letting myself pause, read less, and choose smaller, gentler pieces for now. I’ll pick up a book again when it feels right, when my mind stops doing its own background commentary.
Anyways, thank goodness for memes. At least something out there understands me .
Only if I could take my job with me, the exact same job in the exact same building for the exact same college, and of course my kids, would I move.
And if I did, I would want it to be near the ocean, like very near in a bit easier climate. I’d still want to experience seasons, to a degree. A bit of cooling off in winter but I’d be fine with only rain and not snow. A short winter that gives way to a long summer.
I’d want to be able to sit out on my terrace overlooking the ocean, enjoying my coffee and listening to the waves.
Mountains nearby would be nice as well, not that I’m an avid skier or mountain climber but just to break up the landscape a bit. For the scenery basically. So that when you look away from the ocean you’re seeing mountains.
I’d want this place to be within two hours of a city so that there would be plenty of shopping and eating opportunities.
View from the 3rd floor at my work, crazy how we’ve got really no snow to speak of and it’s above zero today!
It’s with a heavy heart that I must report that Ianmdudley is no longer with us.
His body was found this morning in the middle of the street, his arms covered with defensive wounds, his body riddled with hundreds of tiny, mysterious puncture wounds.
We’re pretty sure it was a murder, but no suspicious characters have been seen in the neighborhood lately.
We hoped to find a clue to what happened on his phone, but the pictures (reproduced below) have done nothing to clear up the mystery.
If any of you have any information that would help bring the Kiddos and me closure (not to mention his beloved coworkers), please reach out.
Ianmdudley’s last photos:
Again, if anyone has any idea what happened, please contact us.
You can leave any tips in the comment section of Ian’s OnlyFans site. I know he overshares here, so I’m certain you already know how to find that.
If you aren’t already a subscriber, you filthy pervert.
I never thought I’d be at this place, fascinated with silence, yet here I am. I’ve been exploring what it means to be silent, how silence speaks, if it speaks at all. I’m not reading or referring any book, not because I know better, but because no one but me can speak better to me. I’m allowing myself to listen, feel, and soak in the quiet.
Thoughts rummage in my head. Some I ponder, others slip through. A few return, while many get lost in the vault of memory. Maybe they turn into dreams or consciousness. Maybe they become intuition. I have no clue.
So I listen, I write. Some thoughts arrive in words; others remain untranslatable, drifting beyond reach. Silence floats in my head, in my heart. It hums, talks, sings, and I revel in it.
I listen not because I like the sound of my own voice, but because the hardest truths come out in silence. Truth is unapologetic. It tells me what I don’t want to hear but need to know. It holds up a mirror so I can see who I really am. Silence has no doorway to escape through, nowhere to hide. It waits, steady and patient. It lingers in the noise, the busy, the chaos, until you go to it. It doesn’t force its way in but reminds you it is there, waiting to be welcomed.
Maybe that’s why I keep returning to it, this space where everything slows down and there are no demands to meet. It gives me room to simply be, where I am not performing, explaining, or trying to be understood. Silence comforts and cradles the thoughts and the soul, yet it also challenges me to face my deepest and realest self. It sits with my nakedness – the unfiltered, unguarded parts of me, until I learn to accept them with a little more grace.
Sitting in silence is both daunting and terrifying unless you’re willing to look inside without excuses, without distraction, without running from what you see.
In the stillness, a shift occurs. Not dramatically, not suddenly. Just enough to notice the subtle unveiling of myself; the parts I overlook, the wounds I avoid, the strength I forget (and sometimes don’t wish to carry), the softness I suppress, the sensitivity I didn’t know existed. A place where ruin, undoing, and healing quietly take turns, not in order but in truth.
Silence doesn’t demand answers. It invites honesty. It asks me to sit, breathe, and let the truth rise on its own. Maybe that’s enough for now. Maybe that’s the point.
# A Day of Laughter, Dreams, and Wonder #
There is a special magic in the air when children are around—a sparkle that no festival can match, a melody that no orchestra can replicate.
Today, as we celebrate Children’s Day in India, we step into that magic, honoring the laughter, curiosity, and dreams of the little ones who make the world brighter.
Children’s Day, observed on November 14, marks the birthday of Jawaharlal Nehru, often called “Chacha Nehru.”
He loved children and believed they were the true wealth of a nation, holding the promise of hope, creativity, and kindness for the future.
The Playground of Joy
Imagine a playground at dawn—swings creaking in rhythm with the morning breeze, slides gleaming under the sun, and tiny feet pattering on the ground in a symphony of energy.
Children’s laughter rings out, infectious and pure, filling the space with life. Each giggle is a note, each cheer a melody, and every scraped knee or triumphant jump adds texture to the orchestra of childhood.
Little-known fact: Studies show that play is essential not just for fun, but for developing creativity, problem-solving skills, and emotional intelligence.
When children invent games, build sandcastles, or chase butterflies, they are not just playing—they are learning resilience, teamwork, and imagination.
Eyes That Hold the Universe
Look into a child’s eyes, and you may glimpse entire worlds—cloud castles, secret gardens, rocket ships soaring to the stars. Children dream without limits. Their visions are free from the boundaries that adulthood imposes.
On Children’s Day, we celebrate not only their current joy but also the boundless possibilities they carry for the future.
Chacha Nehru often said that children’s dreams are the blueprint of tomorrow. He encouraged them to be curious, to ask questions, and to seek knowledge with the same fervor that drives inventors, scientists, and artists.
The Wonder in Small Things
Adults often rush through life, overlooking the beauty of simple moments. Children, however, are masters of noticing wonder in the ordinary—a ladybug climbing a blade of grass, a paper boat floating in a puddle, or the patterns of sunlight through a window.
On Children’s Day, let us pause and see the world through their eyes.
Let us remember that joy can be found in the smallest details—a rainbow after rain, the sound of a distant flute, or a friend’s hand in yours.
Love Without Conditions
Children give love freely and receive it with pure hearts. Their innocence teaches us that affection doesn’t need reason or reward.
A hug, a smile, or a whispered secret from a child can melt the heaviest of hearts.
Little-known fact: Interactions with pets, siblings, or peers in early childhood significantly shape empathy, kindness, and social understanding, emphasizing how love and connection are learned through experience and care.
Celebrating the Child Within
Children’s Day is also a gentle reminder to rediscover the child within us. Remember the excitement of running through puddles, the thrill of climbing trees, or the fascination of catching fireflies in a jar?
Embracing our inner child allows us to find creativity, wonder, and resilience in our own lives.
A World of Possibilities
Beyond joy and play, Children’s Day carries a message of responsibility. Children are the custodians of our future.
They deserve safety, education, and the freedom to dream. It is our duty to guide them, protect them, and create a world where they can flourish.
In India, schools mark the day with cultural events, storytelling, competitions, and games.
Children dress in colorful clothes, perform dances, recite poems, and take center stage in celebrations that make them feel seen, valued, and empowered.
Around the globe, Children’s Day is observed on various dates, but the message remains universal: every child deserves a life full of love, joy, and opportunity.
The Legacy of Chacha Nehru
Nehru’s love for children extended beyond ceremonies. He often wrote letters to young readers, sharing wisdom, encouragement, and humor.
He believed that nurturing curiosity, creativity, and moral values in children was essential for building a just and compassionate society.
A Day to Celebrate and Reflect
So today, let us celebrate not only the children around us but also the child within us. Let us play, laugh, and dream with abandon.
Let us honor the innocent curiosity, unfiltered love, and boundless energy that children bring to our lives.
May every child’s laughter be a reminder that life is brighter when seen with wonder. May every dream they carry be nurtured into reality.
And may we, as mentors, parents, teachers, and friends, create spaces where children feel safe, cherished, and free to blossom into the extraordinary individuals they are meant to be.
Happy Children’s Day to the little dreamers who make the world a better, brighter place—and to the adults who never forget to dream with them!
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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New Daily Prompt:Do you remember your first unrequited love? Have you checked in on them to make sure their lives are as miserable as they deserve to be?
My first?
There are so many, I can’t remember that far back.
But she’s probably a wretched mess.
I mean, it’s inevitable, choosing Chad over me.
He’s almost certainly bald by now.
He had that distinctive ‘gonna lose my hair’ hairline in college.
Widow’s Peak, my ass.
And a distinct ‘I’m gonna swell up to an unsightly size’ looking gut.
And narrow beady eyes that just screamed, “I’m going to abandon you and our six kids for a woman half my age!”
So yeah, she’s gotta be miserable.
Which I feel bad about, because I’m totally over her.
I’m gonna need glue! Lots of glue! More, in fact, than I had on hand. I ran out. You don’t think she’ll notice when she gets home, do you? OK, I may still be missing a piece or two. Nothing a spot of paint won’t cover up…
I’m totally blaming Doggo for this.
Also, citronella wax is sticky, smelly, and clingy as hell!
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and inspired mood. Today’s writing prompt got me reminiscing about life’s unexpected treasures.
The question reads: “What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever found (and kept)?”
It’s a delightful and deeply evocative prompt — one that invites us to pause and reflect on the discoveries that have added meaning to our lives.
For some, the “coolest thing” might be a rare object or a priceless artifact; for others, it could be a fleeting moment, a revelation, or a connection that changed them in ways words can scarcely describe.
The Journey of Finding Something Special
Life, as I’ve come to see it, is filled with tiny treasures waiting to be discovered. Some are tangible — a seashell found on a sunlit beach, a vintage coin tucked in an old drawer, or a handwritten letter from decades past.
Others are intangible — a heartfelt conversation, a moment of silence that brings peace, or an unexpected kindness that restores our faith in humanity.
For me, the coolest things I’ve ever found are often those that live beyond the material — moments, ideas, and experiences that linger in memory long after they’ve passed.
However, there was one discovery — seemingly ordinary yet profoundly meaningful — that transformed my outlook and became one of my most cherished possessions.
An Unexpected Treasure
Years ago, on an idle afternoon, I wandered through a local market, drawn to a small second-hand bookstore. The shop was modest, its wooden shelves bending slightly under the weight of countless forgotten titles.
As I browsed absentmindedly, a worn-out book caught my eye. It sat quietly behind a pile of more colorful, glossy covers — its plain, faded brown jacket offering no promise of adventure or wisdom.
Something, however, compelled me to reach for it. The title read Reflections on Life. Curious, I opened it. Inside were yellowed pages filled with handwritten notes, underlined phrases, and a faint aroma of old paper — that unmistakable scent of time.
It turned out to be a collection of essays and musings by an unknown author, self-published decades ago. The words were simple yet profound, exploring themes of love, solitude, faith, and the eternal rhythm of life.
The price tag read a mere ten rupees — hardly a gamble. I bought it on impulse, not realizing then that this small book would soon occupy a big place in my heart.
The Power of Words
As I began reading Reflections on Life, something remarkable happened. The words seemed to echo thoughts I had often felt but never articulated.
The author — a stranger from another time — wrote with such sincerity that it felt as though he were speaking directly to me across the years.
He described the beauty of a sunrise, the serenity of solitude, and the importance of living mindfully in a world obsessed with haste.
His essays reminded me that contentment isn’t found in grand achievements but in quiet appreciation of the present moment.
What fascinated me most was how his reflections resonated so deeply with my own inner experiences. It was as if I had found a kindred spirit who understood the language of my thoughts.
That discovery came at a time when I was searching for direction, trying to make sense of a rapidly changing life.
The essays offered solace, reminding me that clarity often comes not from doing more, but from simply being — from observing life with patience and gratitude.
Every time I returned to its pages, it felt like having a gentle conversation with an old friend.
Why This Find Mattered
I kept that book not merely as an object, but as a symbol — a reminder of how the smallest discoveries can hold the greatest significance.
It became a source of grounding, encouraging me to pause, reflect, and reconnect with my creative self whenever life grew noisy.
The book’s worn edges and dog-eared pages became markers of my own evolution, each rereading revealing something new about myself.
Over time, I realized that the “coolest thing” about this find wasn’t the book itself — it was the realization it inspired: that wisdom often hides in the unassuming corners of life. Sometimes, what we need most finds us when we least expect it.
Discoveries That Transform Us
Every discovery, big or small, has the power to shape who we are. Whether it’s a melody that stirs old memories, a piece of art that awakens curiosity, or a book that rekindles hope — these finds weave themselves into our personal stories.
For me, Reflections on Life became more than a literary treasure. It was a gentle teacher, reminding me to find beauty in simplicity and meaning in stillness.
Perhaps that’s the essence of all cool finds — they awaken something within us. They whisper lessons, rekindle dreams, and reconnect us to what truly matters.
Cherishing Life’s Unexpected Treasures
So, my dear friends, as we go about our daily lives, let’s keep our eyes — and hearts — open for the unexpected treasures that may be hiding in plain sight.
It might be a conversation that changes your perspective, a forgotten photograph that stirs emotion, or a quiet moment that helps you rediscover yourself.
The coolest things we find in life aren’t always grand or glittering. Often, they are humble, silent, and easily overlooked — yet they have the power to inspire, heal, and stay with us for a lifetime.
So the next time you stumble upon something unexpected — be it an object, an idea, or an experience — pause for a moment. Perhaps the universe has just handed you your next coolest find.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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It’s not very cool but seeing as I have such a bad memory, the fact that this sticks with me must account for something.
When I was going into my apartment building one day, back in 2014-ish, I found a bamboo shoot laying on the ground. Someone moving in or moving out had dropped it right near the sidewalk of the back entrance.
I couldn’t not pick it up. Poor little abandoned green stick. I took it inside and put it in water.
I don’t know if bamboo signifies luck but I did feel very lucky that day to not only have a free plant, but a bamboo plant nonetheless. I had never nurtured a bamboo plant before then but always admired them.
It was mine for about eight years and then somehow I killed it.
However, I did appreciate it so much that I bought a replacement for it.
The kids in Coombs, BC at some kind of bamboo…factory?
Lately, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde has been following me; in conversations, in memory, even in the quiet moments between thoughts. Perhaps it’s no coincidence. The story feels closer now, almost personal, as I find myself wrestling with the same questions of duality; the heart, the mind, and the mystery of why we do what we do.
As I ruminate on life and the choices I make, I’m reminded of Paul, who spoke of this same dilemma: “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do…”
I read the book in school, my memories are sketchy, but I recall the story of a respectable man with a dark alter ego, and how the darkness ultimately consumes him. Paul’s words echo within me, and I find this Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in myself too. Like Paul, I struggle to do what is right and often end up doing what I don’t want to do.
As people, we all carry both light and shadow within us, and this is a real, human struggle. Maybe our darkness isn’t as monstrous as Hyde’s, but it shows up in quieter contradictions; kindness mixed with envy, courage shadowed by fear, love tangled with pride or even anger. For instance, I love my family deeply, yet they can make me angry, and when I allow that anger to take over, it no longer feels like love. I live with these contradictions more often than I’d like to admit. The light in me struggles to break through the overshadowing darkness, and I find myself battling my demons daily. Like Dr. Jekyll, I sometimes feel defeated, my resolve weakening.
The challenge is not to erase the darkness, but to understand it. When we’re aware of it, we allow transformation to weave its way through us. But when we suppress it, we give it space to grow, and it finds its own outlet which is often destructive.
Acknowledgment brings it to light, where it begins to lose its power. However, the truth is, acknowledgment also brings shame and guilt – emotions that often make us hide what we should be healing. Shame convinces us to cover our flaws instead of confronting them. I think our conscience (or perhaps our better self) is constantly struggling to stay in the light, but there are moments when our weaknesses feel stronger, when the pull of impulse or emotion outweighs reason. It’s in those moments that the real battle happens, between who we are and who we wish to be.
I’ve learned that my darker impulses don’t define me. They remind me that I’m capable of both hurt and healing, and that awareness is the first step toward grace.
Maybe we are all, in our own way, both Jekyll and Hyde – constantly negotiating between conscience and desire, restraint and release. Perhaps redemption lies not in denying our shadow, but in learning to walk with it, knowing it’s there, yet choosing the light.
We walk with our shadows, not to escape them, but as a reminder that we are constantly becoming, learning who we are and who we can still become.
Above everything else, I’m learning that though I frequently disappoint myself, God is not disappointed with me. His grace is sufficient, and His love is the balm for my wounded soul.
“This poem tells the story of love and memories intertwined with rain—a gentle reflection on longing, growth, and the quiet moments that shape a heart.
It captures the beauty of unfinished stories and the resilience of souls who find shelter in each other, even after storms have passed.”
# Two Souls in the Rain #
Holding a book with trembling care, as if his heart were resting there. “एक अधूरी प्रेम कहानी” gleams, a tale once lost in broken dreams.
Two figures walk through silver rain, their smiles still hiding quiet pain. Her scarf—like roses, bruised yet sweet, his hand a shelter, calm, complete.
Years ago, that boy was he, drenched in doubt, yet wild and free. Each word he wrote, a beating heart, each line a storm that learned its art.
The wall behind him tells his fight, of sleepless hours turned into light. Suitcases whisper dreams once near, but love remained, soft, crystal-clear.
Now peace has found his weary soul, the rain once fierce has made him whole. For stories end, yet hearts remain— two souls still meet within the rain.
Raining this morning, so I didn’t expect any crows on our walk.
Got 10.
Far from the house, so no fighting.
In case you thought I was lying about the rain…
And now I’m home, thinking about changing into dry clothes and questioning my life choices.
I’m always rushing to leave for work, which is really starting to frustrate me these days with the workload, so I’m going to try and start a morning ritual:
Make coffee with the French Press (mon dieu!) and drink it slowly before leaving.
It tastes smells better than it looksAhhhh. With accidental product placement obscured… If they want their company logo on my blog, that can freaking pay me!
How a Small Act Can Change Lives
Happy World Kindness Day, everyone,
November 13th is more than just a date on the calendar—it’s a global celebration dedicated to fostering empathy, compassion, and the small gestures that can truly transform lives.
Initiated in 1998 by the World Kindness Movement, a coalition of kindness-focused NGOs from over 28 countries, this day reminds us that kindness isn’t just a feel-good concept; it’s a powerful, time-tested force embedded in human nature.
Archaeologists have even found evidence of altruistic behavior in Neanderthals, who cared for their injured kin over 50,000 years ago. Altruism, it seems, is woven into our DNA.
But in today’s fast-paced world, it takes a conscious effort to practice kindness—and stories like mine remind us why it matters.
Today, I’d like to share one such incident with you.
Let me take you back to a humid Kolkata afternoon in the early 2000s. I was managing a busy branch in H.B. Area, buried in loan proposals, when a disheveled man walked in.
Sweat-drenched and anxious, he introduced himself as Sumit Bhowmik, a former cashier at our bank. Sumit had been suspended for committing fraud to fund his mother’s medical treatment.
Now, he urgently needed ₹50,000 for his son’s engineering admission at JIS College in Kalyani. Without it, the boy’s dreams would shatter.
Colleagues warned me
I knew the risks. Colleagues warned me, “Don’t help him—he’s burned bridges.” But something stirred inside me. I remembered my own struggles to secure education through scholarships and sheer determination.
Why should a child suffer for a parent’s mistake? With a leap of faith, I broke my fixed deposit and handed Sumit the money—no paperwork, just trust.
As he rushed off to catch his train, a staffer scolded me, “You’ll never see that money again!” Yet, in that moment, a quiet joy enveloped me. Helping secure a future felt like its own reward.
Fast-forward fifteen years. Now managing the Ashok Rajpath branch in Patna, I visited the BSEB office, hoping to pitch a deposit.
He revealed the truth
A senior officer, Mr. Sampat Bhowmik, received me warmly, and to my astonishment, arranged for a ten-crore deposit the very next day. I was stunned, sipping my tea, until Sampat revealed the truth:
“Fifteen years ago, you helped a student with admission fees. I am that student—the son of Sumit Bhowmik.”
Tears welled in my eyes. The boy I had helped had grown into a responsible engineer, leading a major department.
Sumit, despite his past, had found work in Dhanbad and gradually repaid my loan—starting with ₹3,000. “You were like God to us,” he had said.
Seeing Sampat thrive filled me with profound joy, reminding me that acts of kindness can ripple far beyond what we imagine.
This story isn’t just heartwarming—it exemplifies the “boomerang effect” of kindness, a phenomenon supported by science.
A 2019 study from the University of California, Riverside, found that recipients of kindness are 25% more likely to help others, creating a ripple of good deeds.
Psychologically, kindness releases oxytocin, the “love hormone,” which reduces stress and builds trust.
Historically, cultures have long celebrated this principle: in Japan, “omotenashi” (selfless hospitality) traces back to 16th-century tea ceremonies emphasizing acts done without expectation of return.
Even Marcus Aurelius, in his Meditations, highlighted kindness as a stoic virtue, benefiting both giver and receiver.
Google’s “gThanks” initiative,
Kindness also has practical, modern benefits. Corporate programs, like Google’s “gThanks” initiative, have shown a 20% boost in employee retention.
In evolutionary biology, “kin selection” explains helping family, while “reciprocal altruism” explains aiding strangers—strengthening societal bonds.
During the 1918 flu pandemic, communities that organized volunteer “kindness brigades” saw lower mortality rates, proving that kindness is not just moral—it’s a survival strategy.
In today’s divided, fast-moving world, World Kindness Day urges us to counter negativity with intentional acts of compassion.
The movement’s symbol—a heart within a heart—reminds us that even small gestures ripple outward.
My Final Submission
My story shows how ₹50,000 not only helped launch an engineer’s career but returned as a massive deposit, easing professional pressures and reaffirming faith in the unseen connections of life.
So, this World Kindness Day, let’s commit to small acts: smile at a stranger, pay for someone’s coffee, or simply listen with an open heart.
You never know—the person you help today may become an ally, a friend, or even a catalyst for change tomorrow.
As Aesop wisely said, “No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”Kindness isn’t random—it’s revolutionary.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever found (and kept)?
I don’t recall what my previous response was, but today I’d say – people.
I know, we’re not things. But people are the coolest non-things I’ve found, continue to collect (a few at a time), and keep.
A few years ago, I realized I genuinely love people. Maybe I always did but just didn’t recognize it. When I was younger, I was a brat, convinced the world revolved around me. Yet, I could talk to anyone, hold a conversation with ease… until I couldn’t. Because, well, people. (That’s what we call dramatic irony .)
These days, though I’m a little more cautious, I’m still drawn to people, to connections. I believe we can impact and add value to one another. Often, all someone wants is a friend, a listener, or just someone to have conversations with, or sing and dance along .
I believe I’ve said enough… before I remember to forget .
I hope this blog finds you smiling and feeling curious today. I came across a writing prompt that really made me pause: “If you could meet a historical figure, who would it be and why?”
After thinking about it for a while, one person instantly came to mind: Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam.
You might know him as India’s “Missile Man” or as the inspiring former President, but for me, he represents something even bigger—a life full of dreams, humility, and endless curiosity.
Why Abdul Kalam?
Honestly, it’s not just because of his achievements in science and technology, although those are incredible. What really fascinates me is who he was as a person.
He came from Rameswaram, a small town in Tamil Nadu, grew up in a simple home, and even helped his family by delivering newspapers as a young boy. Can you imagine?
The same boy who once sold newspapers went on to shape India’s space and missile programs.
That journey alone is awe-inspiring, but it’s the lessons in perseverance, patience, and discipline that I’d love to learn from him in person.
Most people know him as a scientist and leader, but here’s something you might not: Abdul Kalam loved poetry.
Yes, the man behind rockets and missiles also believed in the power of words, creativity, and imagination.
He often said that science and art are connected and that creativity is the fuel for innovation. Meeting him would be like talking to someone who sees the world in equations and in dreams—a combination that seems almost magical.
Another reason I’d want to meet him is his humility. Even as President, he lived simply, ate simple meals, and stayed accessible to everyone.
He didn’t care about luxury or titles; he cared about people and ideas. I think sitting across from him would be a reminder that influence doesn’t come from wealth or power—it comes from integrity, vision, and service.
And then there’s his love for students and education.
Kalam believed that young minds are the future and traveled tirelessly to inspire them. Over 600 educational institutions, countless classrooms—he made it his mission to encourage students to dream big.
I’d love to hear him talk about the role of imagination, creativity, and curiosity in our lives. How did he stay motivated? How did he overcome obstacles without giving in to frustration? These are questions I’d hope to ask him.
One thing that strikes me most is his resilience.
Working on India’s missile programs wasn’t easy—there were countless technical challenges, political pressures, and moments when things could have failed.
Yet, he remained calm, focused, and optimistic. Meeting him would be a chance to understand not just how to dream, but how to turn those dreams into reality, even in the face of difficulties.
If I could have just a few minutes with him, I’d ask about all these things—and more.
I’d want to hear stories from his life that we rarely see in history books: the small struggles, the moments of doubt, the inspiration he drew from simple things.
And I’d want to learn from his energy, his vision, and his unwavering belief that ordinary people can achieve extraordinary things.
In the end, meeting Abdul Kalam wouldn’t just be about meeting a historical figure—it would be about meeting someone who showed the world that dreams, dedication, and kindness can go hand in hand.
It would be about learning how to live with purpose, humility, and courage.
So, dear friends, here’s my question for you: If you could meet a historical figure, who would it be, and why?
The answer is more than curiosity—it’s a reflection of what we value, what inspires us, and what we hope to carry forward in our own lives.
For me, Abdul Kalam will always be that person—the dreamer, the teacher, the inspiration.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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It’s interesting how small and narrow my world was when I was a kid. Anything different than the world or the people I knew, gnawed at my brain. I did grow up on a farm near a small town, or several small towns so I suppose, I was pretty sheltered.
I was thinking just now about a teacher I recall from elementary school whose last name was Canada. Miss Canada. I remember thinking how strange to have that name as a surname.
What you grow up with is what you think is normal and I grew up with Hrycyks and Blazenkos, baby-sat for Kolbelkas and rode the bus with Yakylasheks yet there I was questioning a name so simple as Canada. I just didn’t understand HOW you would end up with a name that’s exactly the same as the name of our country.
I remember wondering if she was somebody famous or fancy, was the country named after her family? How could she be an ordinary person with a name like that?
It’s crazy what little brains think. I now know several people with the last name Canada and it’s no biggie. They blend right in with the Beavers, the Redheads and the Fudges.
Sometimes I wish Antichow was a little less distinct and a lot more…Canadian.
My paternal Gramma is the tall, self described “big boned” lady
I swear, some of them follow me the whole walk now.
Yesterday, as I was leaving for work, the Backyard Birdies (TM) assembled on a lamppost, demanding peanuts.
I threw a few.
Another crow showed up.
I had a full pocket of peanuts, so why not? I threw some more.
Holy crap! The Backyard Birdies are territorial!
They went full-on gangsta mode, driving off the other crow.
But not before it got a peanut.
You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a crow with an unshelled peanut in its beak panic fleeing from two other crows with unshelled peanuts in their beaks!
Ask now I want to make a T-shirt commemorating the moment.
I envision something that evokes boy band vibes, but with a dash of punk.
This is a tender reflection on facing the shadows within. It traces the quiet journey from being held captive by fear to gently understanding and releasing it.
Through simple rhyme and emotional honesty, the poem reminds us that courage is not the absence of fear—but the grace to walk beside it without losing ourselves.
Me and My Fear
On quiet nights, my fear would creep, A shadowed guest that stole my sleep. It whispered softly, “You’re not enough” And turned each task to trials tough.
I trembled like a leaf in a storm, Afraid to stray from what was norm. It wrapped my heart in chains so tight, And dimmed the glow of every light.
But one still night, I turned around, To face the ghost that kept me bound. Its eyes were mine—so full, so near, My face reflected in my fear.
I said, “You’ve stayed too long, it’s true, You’re part of me—but not all through.” I breathed it out, both slow and clear, And felt the dawn replace my fear.
Now fear still comes, but I stand tall, I know its name, I know it all. I walk beside it, calm, unbound— The chains are gone, my strength is found.
We’ve had a few chilly mornings lately, a taste of tropical winter? I’m happy with the little cold we’re getting . Something is better than nothing.
It’s almost mid-November – eeks, this year is nearly over. Soon it’ll be time to put up the tree. But before that, the dreaded exams. My daughter’s second term is starting . I’ve decided I’m not going to chase time anymore. I’ll live at my own pace, go as fast or slow, do as much or as little, but be intentional. I could use more silence.
There was a car explosion in the capital city on Monday that left a few people dead and injured. My first thought was, not another terror attack… again. But what followed was a strange indifference. Not because I don’t care, but after so many incidents over the years, it’s hard not to feel numb. Many smaller attacks don’t get enough coverage or noise. They’re forgotten, but the lives lost matter all the same. Those affected live with the ache and loss, while in the corridors of power, life goes on as if nothing happened. Is there even a will to bring real change?
For the rest of us not directly touched by tragedy, we offer sympathy and prayers, maybe “platitudes” fits, because too often they remain just that, gestures without follow-through. And that’s the devastating reality.
A few weeks earlier, my husband told me about a nineteen-year-old boy who took his own life after being blackmailed. Hackers had used AI to create a fake video showing him sleeping with his sister. How insidious is that? AI itself isn’t the problem – it’s the people behind it. The truth is that technology isn’t what we need to fear; it’s what humans can do with it.
The way the algorithm is manipulated annoys me. Lately, my feed has been flooded with strangers’ posts about people losing loved ones. I haven’t shared anything personal apart from art, but glance at one topic, and suddenly you’re drowning in it. I don’t want an echo chamber. Show me everything that encompasses life – the light, the dark, the mundane.
I hope this blog finds you smiling and in good spirits. Today, I came across a simple yet thought-provoking question: “What is your favorite place to go in your city?”
At first, I thought, “Well, there are so many!” But then I realized—it’s less about the place itself and more about the moments and feelings it brings.
For me, that special place is a small park tucked away between the busy streets—a little green oasis where time seems to slow down. This park is just a short distance away. from my residence
I remember the first time I stumbled upon it;
I had been rushing home after a hectic day, my mind cluttered with thoughts of work and errands. Then, as I turned a corner, I saw a patch of sunlight filtering through the trees.
The noise of the city seemed to fade, and suddenly, I felt… calm. Like I had discovered a secret the city had been keeping just for me.
What makes this park special? For me, it’s my escape from the overwhelming life of the metro city—honking horns, crowded streets, and constant deadlines.
But here, with the tall trees swaying gently in the wind and birds chirping their little tunes, everything else fades away. I often take slow walks along the winding paths.
I remember one morning, seeing a little girl chase a butterfly, her laughter echoing through the park. That sound—pure, innocent joy—stuck with me for the rest of the day.
The park is also my little creative corner..
Sitting under my favorite old oak tree, I’ve scribbled poems, drafted stories, and even found solutions to problems that had seemed impossible hours earlier.
There was one afternoon when I brought my notebook along, planning to write a few lines. Suddenly, a stray dog wandered over, plopped down beside me, and looked as if it was keeping me company.
I laughed and wrote about that moment—it became the first paragraph of a story I still treasure.
Another reason I love this park is the community it nurtures. Cities can sometimes feel isolating, but here, life unfolds in the most genuine way.
From morning yoga enthusiasts stretching under the sun to friends sharing quiet conversations on benches, it’s a microcosm of humanity.
One evening, I noticed an elderly man teaching his granddaughter to ride a bicycle. Her tiny legs wobbled, she fell a couple of times, but his encouraging words never wavered.
Watching them, I realized how these small, everyday moments give life its warmth and depth.
And then, of course, there are the seasons.
Spring fills the park with colorful blooms and cheerful energy. Summer brings the warm sun and lively chatter. Autumn paints everything golden and cozy, while winter offers a crisp, calm silence perfect for reflection.
I’ll never forget one winter morning, when frost had lightly dusted the grass. I was sipping my coffee, watching my breath float in the cold air, and felt an unusual sense of gratitude—for life, for peace, and for this simple, beautiful park that I can always come back to.
Why does this question matter, though? Asking about a favorite place makes us think about the spaces that make us feel alive, calm, inspired, or connected.
It’s a gentle reminder that even in the hustle of city life, there are hidden corners that bring us peace, spark creativity, and help us reconnect with ourselves.
So, my dear friends, I encourage you to think about your favorite place in your city. Maybe it’s a cozy café, a lively market, a quiet library, or a riverside walkway.
Whatever it is, take a moment to visit it, notice the small details, and appreciate what it brings into your life. These little joys are what make a city truly yours.
For me, the little park is more than just greenery—it’s my refuge, my inspiration, and my connection to life in the city.
Every visit reminds me to pause, breathe, and enjoy the simple wonders around me. And that, I believe, is what makes a city more than just a place—it makes it a home.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Time in nature is what I need to while away from the long screen time. Yesterday, I went to the favorite place of my eldest sister again. I transferred her goats before I started walking back and forth.
I was almost going home when the sunset started forming its colorful beauty; hence, I extended my time there. It’s absolutely worth it, as I witnessed the transition of the vibrant clouds that show a glimpse of what heaven is like. How amazing!
This is peace
After taking some photographs, I sit for a while, savoring the very kind nature that heals me inside.
I need moments like this away from noise because it keeps me going in life, healthy and happy.
Thank you so much for being so generous with your time, my amazing readers. Stay appreciative! Have a glorious Wednesday as you are.
This love poem expresses the joy and calmness experienced in the presence of a loved one. It shows how being close to someone can make ordinary moments feel bright and fill emptiness with beautiful sounds.
# When You Are Here #
When you are here, my heart sings a tune, Whispering your name beneath the moon. Your smile lights up the farthest skies, And love like sunlight in my spirit lies.
Your voice flows soft, like a flute in spring, Each note a memory your presence brings. Without you, my heart feels cold and bare— A broken string still trembling in the air.
This house without you feels no home, Each corner whispers where you roam. Your echoes linger, tender and deep, Like letters read in a voice half-asleep.
When you are near, no fear remains, Even stones turn to paths through rains. In your eyes, I see my whole world’s hue, Every dream begins and ends with you.
Yes, when you’re here, love fills the air, Life feels complete—beyond compare. Every moment shines, all sorrow departs, Your smile sparks joy, making my day start.
I was talking with my eldest brother earlier. It’s been quite a while since we spoke at length. Honestly, I’m quite bad at staying in touch, or maybe it’s just me taking family for granted . That’s a thought for another time.
What’s been on my mind now is how we present ourselves to each other, and how others appear to us. Mid-conversation with my brother, I realized that between the two of us, our exchanges feel… more equal, if I can say that. We listen to each other’s views, whether we agree or not is another matter, but we add value to each other’s thoughts.
However, my younger sister doesn’t always have the same experience. She often tells me that my brother ends up preaching or teaching her. She does the listening, and it becomes a one-way conversation. It doesn’t help that she’s not much of a talker either, she’s quite selective about whom she opens up to.
And I wonder why that is. Is it because she’s much younger? Or because I’m the eldest daughter? The age gap between them is wide, though my brother and I have one too. Or perhaps it’s because I’m more vocal with my thoughts and opinions. I don’t really know how to sugarcoat things. Whatever the reason, it struck me how differently my brother relates to each of us.
That led me to think about people in general, how we show up differently with different people. We’re never completely ourselves with any one person. With family, we’re closest to who we really are – they see the good, the bad, and the ugly. Romantic partners eventually see the bad and ugly too (some don’t even get that privilege ). Friends? They often see the version that fits the rhythm of that bond.
Some of my friends don’t know much about my family background or at all. Even with my closest school friends, we rarely spoke about our families. We shared our personal stories, but unless family dynamics affected the individual, it remained unspoken. Was it because life felt simpler then, or because we learned to compartmentalize early on?
When you think of how many versions of ourselves we move through each day, it’s no wonder we’re always trying to understand who we really are at our core. We’ve been performing since childhood – adapting, adjusting, fitting in. And as adulthood layers on, we don’t just perform more, we also lose small pieces of ourselves along the way.
We end up wearing different versions of ourselves depending on who we’re with, not out of deceit, but out of adaptation.
Looking at my own life, I can see that with my brother, there’s mutual respect and balance. Yet there’s also hierarchy, that unspoken rule of deference that comes with being younger or older. We respect our elders, but that often brings a certain guardedness.
With other relationships, it’s a mix, each connection shaping who we become in the moment.
A friend who’s been single for a long time told me recently that she isn’t sure which version of herself she’s supposed to be if she were to enter a relationship now. There’s a fear of losing independence, and of being answerable to another.
Maybe that’s why we end up peeling back layers of ourselves – shocked to discover what we can do and who we can be, when we’ve been there all along. Just buried and forgotten under all the new we’ve grown into.
I hope this blog catches you in high spirits. Today, let’s dive into a question that’s simple on the surface but packed with insight: What’s the first impression you want to give people?
This prompt isn’t just idle chit-chat—it’s a mirror to our souls, revealing how we navigate the world of human connections. In a split second, we broadcast volumes about our character, values, and energy.
Psychologists note that first impressions form in as little as 7 seconds, influencing perceptions for weeks or even years (based on studies from Princeton and NYU).
They matter because they’re the foundation of trust, opportunity, and relationships—whether in a job interview, a coffee meetup, or a chance encounter on the street.
Why justify this question? In our fast-paced, digital age, where Zoom calls replace handshakes and profiles precede faces, first impressions are more critical than ever.
They’re not superficial; they’re strategic. A Harvard Business Review analysis shows that positive initial vibes can boost career success by 20-30% through enhanced networking.
Personally, they shape friendships and romances—think how a warm smile can turn a stranger into a confidant.
Ignoring them risks misalignment: you might project confidence when you value humility, or warmth when authenticity is your core.
Reflecting on this prompt empowers us to align our outer self with our inner truth, fostering genuine bonds in a world of fleeting interactions.
For me, the ideal first impression blends authenticity, warmth, positivity, and curiosity. It’s not a scripted act but a natural extension of who I am—a storyteller, painter, and eternal optimist who thrives on real connections.
Let me break it down.
Embracing Authenticity
Authenticity is my North Star. In those opening moments, I ditch the masks and show up as me: flaws, passions, and all. Why? Because fakeness repels, genuineness attracts.
Research from the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology confirms that authentic people are seen as more trustworthy and likable.
I weave in my love for storytelling—sharing a quick tale from a recent hike or the chaos of a failed art project. It’s vulnerable, yes, but it invites others to drop their guards.
Imagine meeting someone who admits, “I’m a bit nervous, but excited to chat!” It humanizes you instantly, sparking deeper dialogues over polished perfection.
Radiating Warmth and Welcome
Warmth follows closely, like a cozy blanket on a chilly day. I aim to make people feel seen and safe from the get-go. A genuine smile, steady eye contact, and active listening do the trick—no grand gestures needed.
I ask thoughtful questions: “What’s lighting you up lately?” or recall details later, like following up on their mentioned book. This builds trust fast;
A study in Psychological Science found that warm behaviors increase cooperation by 50%. It’s my way of offering an “invisible hug,” signaling emotional availability. In a guarded world, this warmth turns acquaintances into allies.
Inspiring Positivity and Joy
Positivity is my spark. Life’s heavy enough with deadlines and doubts—I want to lighten the load. I share uplifting anecdotes, a light joke, or a perspective shift: “Even on tough days, a good coffee and a laugh reset everything.”
It’s not toxic positivity; it acknowledges struggles while choosing joy. Gallup polls link positive interactions to higher well-being and productivity.
My presence should remind others that happiness is actionable, leaving them energized rather than drained.
Igniting Wonder
Finally, I leave a trail of intrigue. I drop breadcrumbs of my layers—a teaser about a blog post, a book that blew my mind, or a painting in progress—without oversharing.
This mystery fuels follow-ups: “Tell me more about that trip!” Curiosity reflects openness; it shows I’m eager to learn from them too.
As social psychologist Amy Cuddy notes in her TED Talk, blending warmth with competence (via subtle competence hints) creates the most memorable impressions.
These elements aren’t random; They stem from self-awareness. I’ve introspected: What energizes me? Storytelling and creativity. What do I value? Empathy and growth.
Practice refines it—role-playing greetings or noting post-meeting vibes. And remember, first impressions evolve. They open doors, but consistency locks in the relationship.
In professional realms, this combo shines: Authenticity builds credibility in pitches; warmth fosters team trust; positivity motivates; curiosity sparks innovation. Personally, it’s magic—a first date feels like old friends; a networking event yields mentors.
Ultimately, crafting your first impression is self-mastery. It’s asking: How do I want to be remembered—as a light-bringer, a truth-teller, an inspirer?
Mine: Someone genuine, welcoming, joyful, and intriguing, who makes you feel valued.
So, what about you? What vibe do you aim to project in those pivotal seconds? Share in the comments—let’s turn this reflection into shared stories.
After all, first impressions aren’t just introductions; they’re the spark of our shared human tapestry.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Seeing posts about decorating for Christmas reminded me of the tree the kids and I put up in 2013 in our apartment.
My ex-husband and I had been separated for nearly a year at that point and after renting a house from a friend for the first seven months, I was able to get us into a nice, safe and cozy apartment.
The first Christmas after a marriage ends is probably always a memorable one and for the wrong reasons. In figuring out custody and holiday arrangements, as usual I had to be the bigger person and the generous one, so it was decided the kids would spend that first Christmas with their dad at their grandparents.
He was allowed to have them for up to ten days and used every single one. They left town the day before my birthday. Not by accident I’m sure. December 20 and they didn’t return until the 30th.
It was a sad and very depressing Christmas for me. I could’ve gone home to my parents and sisters but showing up there empty handed and alone, without my kids, seemed too embarrassing. The loneliness too raw. So I stayed home. I picked up overtime shifts at the personal care home. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day I worked evening shifts.
My Christmas dinner that year was a quick trip to McDonald’s on my supper break. I’ll never forget that feeling. Sitting there alone, eating. Christmas Day. Without my kids.
I had volunteered that morning at the Community Christmas lunch, an event for people less fortunate who couldn’t afford or would otherwise have a turkey dinner or gifts for their kids. I thought that being there and giving my time and giving of myself would somehow fill the void I was experiencing but it didn’t.
I went through the motions all day, feigning cheerfulness but feeling almost robotic.
I survived, the kids came back. We did our own Christmas.
Life goes on but that feeling comes back when I remember.
This was our tree that year. I had no truck, or saw, to go and cut one down from the bush and spending $400 on a fake one was out of my budget. I was more worried about getting the kids good gifts, than the tree itself. This awful woman I knew commented when I posted this on Instagram “is that your tree????” Ummm yes it is you witch.
A powerful declaration of resilience and unwavering faith, this poem celebrates the human spirit’s ability to rise above challenges.
It reminds us that no obstacle—no matter how daunting—can diminish the courage, hope, and determination within.
Who says I am tired? In every pause, I carve a new horizon. Even in fallen leaves, I find the green, And with the lamp of hope, I read my fate.
If roads are blocked, I forge my path, If they call it the end, I hum a beginning. From every blow, I find a new note, Who says I am tired?
Do not try to stop my steps, I have the strength to face storms head-on. Those who cannot feel the rhythm of my stride Will find no meaning in my battle song.
Who says I am tired? I have moved beyond my path, And now I walk life’s roads unafraid, Even standing face-to-face with death, I rise victorious, I rise with faith.
It starts out well. A clear path ahead, sunlight spilling softly across it. But as you walk a little farther, you begin to encounter muddy stretches, scattered rocks, potholes, and mountains to climb.
The road I’m on is long, rough, and winds too much. Sometimes it’s so narrow I have to squeeze my way through; yet there are also wide, open stretches, almost blinding in their brightness. At first glance, the road appears inviting yet deceiving; smooth, sunny, vibrant, and full of life. But as I walk, perception shifts.
It’s paved with pits and holes, rocky and uneven, lined with thorns, thistles, and weeds by the wayside. At times, I see flowers blooming on one side, while on the other, shiny pebbles glint; beautiful but sharp enough to hurt.
I’ve noticed that the narrower roads often hold the hardest challenges. Even the prettiest cobbled paths can hide turbulence and turmoil, burdens I cannot break. Questions linger; doubts hover close as I wander, losing direction. Sometimes, I feel like I’m rolling down a mountain with no brakes, no end.
I climb steep inclines, exhausted, weeping, reaching for something unseen. And just when I think I’ve reached that somewhere, I tumble back to places I thought I’d left behind. Then, there are days when the walk is unbearable, and I’m all spent. I wonder what it is to lie down; to be still, unheard, soundless.
But I rise – because there’s no other option to life. I dust myself off. Find my footing. I walk. I limp. I crawl. I run. I keep going.
The road doesn’t end; it twists, bends, disappears, and returns. The mountains don’t vanish, but with time, they begin to seem less impossible, not smaller, but somehow more climbable. Some days, the sun cuts through the clouds, and flowers bloom from the cracks. On those days, I breathe a little easier. I remember why I keep going.
So I take another step. And another. Because somewhere ahead, I know my tired feet will find rest – not at the end of the road, but in the peace of walking it.
I know it’s a heavy reflection to start the week with, but I can’t ignore or pretend this road doesn’t exist. We all walk it, more often than we care to admit. The focus isn’t on the road itself, but on the walk – the one that breaks us, shapes us, and ultimately refines us. — P.S. Sheryl Crow’s “Everyday Is a Winding Road” came to mind while writing this; some roads really do hum that tune.
I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt invites us to reflect on something deceptively simple yet deeply personal: “What’s your favorite month of the year? Why?”
At first glance, it may seem like a casual question. After all, months are just fragments of the calendar—twelve chapters that mark our journey through time.
But when we pause to think, we realize that each month carries its own personality—its own colors, scents, moods, and emotions. Each has a rhythm that influences the way we feel, think, and live.
If I had to choose my favorite month of the year, my answer comes easily: October.
Now, before you ask “Why October?”—allow me to explain. For me, October is a month of gentle transformation, a bridge between the glowing warmth of summer and the calm introspection of winter.
It is a season of balance, where the energy of the year begins to soften, and everything around seems to breathe a little slower, a little deeper.
A Perfect Blend of Weather
One of the first things that draws me to October is the weather. There’s something uniquely refreshing about the crispness of the air. The heat of summer finally fades, leaving behind a cool, invigorating breeze that feels like nature’s gentle embrace.
On misty mornings, the world seems wrapped in soft silver veils, as if the earth itself is sighing in quiet contentment.
Evenings stretch peacefully, inviting one to enjoy a slow stroll or to sit with a warm cup of tea while watching the sky dissolve into shades of gold, pink, and amber.
It is a month that encourages both activity and reflection. There’s a stillness to October that feels alive—vibrant yet soothing, calm yet full of quiet energy.
The Splendor of Nature’s Palette
October is nature’s grand finale. Trees shed their summer green to wear magnificent shades of amber, crimson, and gold.
The sight of falling leaves feels like a poetic dance—each one drifting gracefully to the earth, reminding us of beauty in impermanence.
As someone who loves art and creativity, I find October’s landscape deeply inspiring. The world feels like a living painting,’
Every walk through rustling leaves becomes a reminder of the delicate rhythm of life—how things change, fade, and renew in endless harmony.
It’s no wonder that poets and writers throughout history have found their muse in October. The air itself seems to hum with reflection and nostalgia.
Festive Spirit and Togetherness
October also marks the beginning of the festive season in many parts of the world. It’s a time of joy, light, and togetherness—when families come alive with laughter and warmth.
In my culture, October brings with it beloved festivals like Chhath Puja and Diwali—celebrations that illuminate both homes and hearts.
Streets shimmer with lights, the air fills with the scent of sweets and incense, and every corner echoes with excitement.
These festivals are more than traditions; they are reminders of love, gratitude, and belonging. They bring people together after months of routine, allowing us to reconnect with family, friends,
And our own sense of community. Whether it’s sharing a meal, lighting a diya, or simply exchanging smiles, October fills me with a deep sense of joy and gratitude.
A Month of Reflection and Renewal
October, for me, is not only about beauty and celebration—it’s also about reflection. As the leaves fall, they whisper a quiet truth: to grow, one must learn to let go.
I often find myself revisiting my thoughts and goals during this month—looking back on what I’ve accomplished, what I’ve learned, and what I still hope to achieve before the year ends.
October feels like nature’s gentle reminder to pause, reorganize, and begin again.
It’s a month that balances action and stillness—a time to tidy the corners of the heart, to forgive, and to look forward with renewed purpose.
The Magic of October
Beyond its weather, festivals, and introspection, October has a simple, almost literary charm. It feels like a story unfolding day by day—each morning full of purpose, each evening steeped in contentment.
There’s beauty in its small moments: the smell of rain on dry leaves, the comfort of a soft scarf, the sound of children playing in the street, the laughter of friends gathered around a fire.
October heightens our awareness of life’s gentle pleasures—the little details that make ordinary days extraordinary.
My Final Reflection
While every month carries its own unique magic, October holds a special place in my heart. Its crisp air, vivid colors, festive warmth, and reflective calm make it a month that is both alive and peaceful.
It teaches us to appreciate transitions, to find joy in simplicity, and to embrace both change and stillness with grace.
Choosing a favorite month may seem simple, but it is, in truth, a reflection of what we value most in life—beauty, connection, mindfulness, and the quiet thrill of existence.
So, as you move through your own year, I encourage you to pause and ask yourself: Which month makes your heart feel lighter, your mind calmer, and your spirit brighter?
For me, it will always be October—the month that feels like a warm hug for the soul.
BE HAPPY….BE ACTIVE….BE FOCUSED….BE ALIVE…
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Name the most expensive personal item you’ve ever purchased (not your home or car).
The most expensive personal item I’ve ever “purchased”? Probably perspective – earned through time, mistakes, and growth.
Grateful: life is a dance full of missteps. Sometimes it’s choreographed, but most days we just have to improvise. Yet, through all the ups and downs, there’s still so much to be grateful for; a roof over our heads, food on the table, family, friends, work, and the gift of living in relative peace.
Thankful: for the ordinary, the simple, and the small things we often take for granted. Every day we wake up is a quiet miracle, and a reminder to keep finding joy even in the smallest moments.
Blessed: because we have this one life, and we owe it to ourselves to live it well; with kindness, laughter, curiosity, and grace. To love deeply and forgive freely. Each breath, each sunrise, each connection is a reminder that we’re part of something larger, a quiet rhythm that keeps us going.
I am finding that answering these daily prompts the second time around, is slightly boring. It was hard enough the first time to answer some of them. My new iPhone has a journaling app, which I just discovered this morning, and it comes with journaling suggestions, like prompts, to help facilitate daily writing.
Today’s suggestion was to write about a dream that I actually could remember after I woke up, and the significance of it.
I do dream often, although less when I take Magnesium at night, thankfully. After a decade or so of nightmares in my twenties about an ex-boyfriend, I had decided that I really dislike dreaming.
To me, dreams hold no significance whatsoever. When I asked the Psychiatrist I worked with in the early 2000’s, what he thought dreams were meant for, he said there’s a theory that it’s the minds way of processing the “garbage” it wants to get rid of.
So I sort of adopted this garbage theory too, and easily so, as I had never really had good dreams. Maybe I don’t remember dreams because I don’t want to? I don’t know. But I know that the dreams I do remember most, are the ones where I’m falling down stairs.
All throughout my childhood, I dreamt of falling down stairs. I attributed this to growing up in a house without stairs, a one-level home. And actually, the school I went to from grade one to grade nine also had no stairs in it.
Stairs were not familiar to me. I didn’t spend a lot of time on stairs.
To this day I feel very awkward walking down a set of stairs, worried about falling. So at work I take the elevator if I need to go down. Even if it’s just one floor. I’ll gladly take the stairs up, but I take the elevator down.
A tender and soulful reflection on love that lingers beyond distance and time. This poem captures the quiet ache of remembrance — when a single thought of someone turns silence into melody, and dreams become the only bridge between two hearts.
# When You Come to My Mind #
When you come to my mind at night, My silence turns to a soothing song. The stars seem to pause in gentle flight, And time lingers softly, slow and long.
When I cannot forget you from my heart, I lose my peace — where do I start? For every heartbeat speaks your name, A tender ache I cannot tame.
I search for you in dreams unseen, Where love still flows in silver sheen. But if sleep forgets to close my eyes, Where shall we meet, beneath what skies?
Perhaps in the hush before the dawn, Where night and hope are gently drawn. There, I’ll find you — pure and true, And lose myself in thoughts of you.
I hope this Blog finds you well. Today’s writing prompt asks an intriguing question — “If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?”
This question encourages us to dream freely and consider what “home” truly means. Have you ever imagined living anywhere in the world without limits?
In this Blog, I will explore this question and look at two dream destinations: Kyoto’s peaceful temples and Florence’s artistic beauty, reflecting on the concepts of beauty, peace, and “home.”
The Dream of Choosing a Place
When we imagine living anywhere in the world, we are not just choosing geography — we are choosing a way of life.
For me, the ideal dream destination would be a place that combines nature, culture, and serenity in equal measure. Two places come instantly to mind: Kyoto, Japan, and Florence, Italy.
Both are steeped in art, philosophy, and grace. They remind us that beauty doesn’t shout; it whispers.
These cities don’t just exist — they breathe history, creativity, and a gentle pace of living that feels timeless.
Kyoto — Where Serenity Meets Simplicity
If I could live anywhere, Kyoto would be at the top of my list. It’s a city where old and new live side by side with quiet harmony. Ancient wooden temples, tranquil gardens, and winding streets tell stories that go back centuries.
Life in Kyoto feels unhurried. There’s a deep sense of respect for every detail — from the art of tea-making to the changing colors of the seasons. The Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi, which means finding beauty in imperfection, inspires a peaceful way of living.
I imagine waking up to the sight of cherry blossoms in spring, or sitting by a koi pond in autumn, watching red maple leaves drift in the water.
There’s something deeply soothing about that image — a sense of calm that modern life often steals from us. Kyoto reminds us that joy can be found in stillness, in nature, and in the simple rhythm of everyday life.
Florence — The Cradle of Art and Inspiration
The second place that calls to my heart is Florence, Italy — the birthplace of the Renaissance. Florence is a city that celebrates creativity in every corner.
Its cobblestone streets, golden sunsets, and historic bridges make it feel like a living painting.
I can imagine walking past the Duomo, hearing street musicians playing violins near the Uffizi Gallery, and sipping espresso at a small café while watching people go by. Florence has that special magic that connects art and life so seamlessly that one becomes the other.
What I love most about Florence is its appreciation for la dolce vita — “the sweet life.” Not a life of luxury, but a life of gratitude — for a good meal, meaningful conversation, and moments of wonder. It’s a reminder that happiness often lives in simple, beautiful things.
What Truly Makes a Place “Home”
But beyond these dream destinations, the question also leads us inward. What makes a place feel like home? For some, it’s peace and solitude. For others, it’s energy and connection.
To me, home is where my mind feels inspired and my heart feels at ease. It’s where you can be yourself — unhurried, unmasked, and at peace with life’s flow.
Whether it’s the meditative calm of Kyoto or the artistic warmth of Florence, both places reflect what I value most — beauty, mindfulness, and meaning.
A Thought to Carry Forward
“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” — this question is not only about destinations but about desires. It reveals what we long for in our own lives.
Some may choose mountains, some beaches, some bustling cities, and some quiet villages. Wherever that dream place may be, it often mirrors the life we wish to live — peaceful, passionate, creative, or free.
As for me, I would love to live somewhere that allows me to pause and appreciate life’s simple wonders — to watch a sunrise, to write beneath a tree, to breathe in gratitude.
And perhaps that’s the truth — our dream place might not just be a faraway city. It could be wherever we learn to live fully, love deeply, and find joy in the ordinary.
So, dear friends, I leave you with this thought — if you could live anywhere in the world, where would you choose, and what does that say about your dreams?
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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A heartfelt poem about the magic of dreams—where the soul wanders free through colors of memory, emotion, and wonder.
“I Dream in Technicolor” celebrates the beauty of night’s inner world, where pain turns to art and darkness gifts its own light.
# I Dream in Technicolor #
When night pulls down its velvet veil, My weary thoughts begin to sail. My body sleeps, but deep inside, My spirit wakes and learns to glide.
I drift through skies of silver flame, Where nothing ever stays the same. Each dream I paint, a world anew— With rose-red hope and aching blue.
A blue that hums of hearts apart, A red that burns through tender heart. No walls, no clocks, no weight, no frame, Just freedom flowing through my dream.
Revisiting memories, child, I play my part, Both born from one soft, dreaming heart. I watch the foxes dance, oceans roar, And stars spill secrets evermore.
And when the morning light appears, It finds me glowing through the tears— For every night, I trade the shade, For colors only dreams have made.
Because each night, I try to send My shadow out, my fears to mend. It brings me back a light unseen— My own aurora, bright and serene.
Boring prompt for a Saturday…some laughter for the weekend…
THEOLOGY AS EXPLAINED BY CHILDREN
The first book of the Bible is Guinessis, in which Adam & Eve were created from an apple tree.
Noah’s wife was called Joan of Ark.
Lot’s wife was a pillar of salt by day and a ball of fire by night.
Samson slayed the Philistines with the axe of the Apostles.
Unleavened bread is bread made without ingredients.
Moses went to the top of Mt. Cyanide to get the 10 commandments.
The 7th commandment is ‘Thou shalt not admit adultery.’
Joshua let the Hebrew in the battle of Geritol.
David fought the Finkelsteins, a race of people who lived in Biblical times.
Solomon has 300 wives and 700 porcupines.
Jesus was born because Mary had an immaculate contraption.
The people who followed Jesus were called the 13 decibels.
The Epistles were the wives of the Apostles.
One of the opossums was St. Matthew.
Paul preached holy acrimony, which is another name for marriage. A Godly person should have only one wife. This is called monotony.
CHURCH BULLETIN BLOOPERS
The Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday morning.
Our youth basketball team is back in action Wednesday at 8 PM in the recreation hall. Come out and watch us kill Christ the King.
The peacemaking meeting scheduled for today has been canceled due to a conflict.
Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say “Hell” to someone who doesn’t care much about you.
For those of you who have children and don’t know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.
At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be “What Is Hell?” Come early and listen to our choir practice.
This evening at 7 PM there will be a hymn singing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.
Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance.
The Associate Minister unveiled the church’s new tithing campaign slogan last Sunday: “I Upped My Pledge–Up Yours”
The Fasting and Prayer Conference includes meals.
The sermon this morning: ‘Jesus Walks on the Water.’ The sermon tonight: ‘Searching for Jesus.’
Ladies, don’t forget the rummage sale. It’s a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
Don’t let worry kill you off – let the Church help.
Miss Charlene Mason sang ‘I will not pass this way again,’ giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered.
The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious hostility.
Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM – prayer and medication to follow.
The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B. S. Is done.
Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use the back door.
The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare’s Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt made me smile and pause for a moment of honest reflection: “What part of your routine do you always try to skip if you can?”
It’s a simple question, but it touches upon something we all experience — that tug-of-war between what we should do and what we want to do.
Our routines define much of our lives, but within those daily patterns often lie a few tasks that we secretly wish we could fast-forward through.
Let’s be honest — no matter how disciplined or organized we are, there’s always a part of our day that feels more like an obligation than a joy.
For some, it’s the early morning alarm that breaks the peace of sleep. For others, it might be the endless string of emails, the post-dinner dishwashing, or even the act of exercising when the bed feels far too inviting.
For me, it’s checking my phone messages and emails first thing in the morning.
Now, that might sound surprising in a world that runs on instant communication. But I find that this small act — which should take just a few minutes — often sets the tone for the entire day.
The moment I open that glowing screen, I’m bombarded with notifications, deadlines, and reminders.
The calm of morning is instantly replaced by the urgency of digital life. It feels like skipping breakfast and diving straight into work before I’ve even said good morning to myself.
So yes, if there’s one part of my daily routine I’d gladly skip, it’s that early dive into the online whirlpool.
Why is it so hard to resist, though?
Because our routines are both comforting and confining. They give us structure, but they can also drain our spontaneity. Skipping a small part of it occasionally feels like reclaiming a sense of freedom.
When I deliberately avoid my phone for the first hour of the day, I feel more present — I hear the morning birds, enjoy my cup of tea, and feel connected to the world around me, not the one glowing behind a screen.
However, routines exist for a reason.
Yes, they keep us grounded and productive. Skipping too many parts of them can make life feel chaotic. So the art lies in balance — knowing when to skip something and why.
Sometimes, skipping a routine is an act of rebellion against monotony; other times, it’s an act of self-care.
For instance, skipping a workout once in a while might give your body the rest it truly needs. Ignoring the news for a day could protect your mental peace. Skipping that late-night scroll might gift you an extra hour of sleep.
Interestingly, psychologists often say that routines build discipline, but occasional breaks from them build resilience.
Sometimes, skipping a task intentionally is not Laziness
When we allow ourselves to skip a task intentionally — not out of laziness, but out of mindfulness — we remind ourselves that we’re not slaves to our schedules. We’re humans, capable of choosing what nourishes us each day.
I’ve noticed that when I skip that one part of my routine — the morning messages — my entire day unfolds differently. I read, I write, I think. My creativity flows better, my conversations are more meaningful, and my mind feels uncluttered.
It’s as if that single skipped habit opens up a small window of serenity in an otherwise busy day.
On a broader note, this question also invites us to reflect on what our routines reveal about us.
Skipping a task often highlights something deeper
The part we want to skip often highlights something deeper: perhaps fatigue, disinterest, or an unacknowledged stressor.
For someone avoiding morning exercise, it might not just be about tiredness — it could signal a need to find a form of movement that truly brings joy.
For another person who skips cooking, it might mean they’ve lost the pleasure of preparing food and need to reconnect with it creatively.
So maybe the question isn’t just what we skip, but why we feel the need to skip it. Is it boredom? Overwhelm? Or maybe a quiet signal that our routine needs reimagining?
After all, a life lived entirely on autopilot loses its color.
My Final Submission
Finally, I think it’s perfectly okay to have a part of your routine that you try to skip — it’s part of being human. What matters is whether you skip it mindlessly or mindfully.
If skipping something gives you a chance to breathe, reset, or refocus on what truly matters, then it’s not avoidance — it’s alignment.
So the next time you’re tempted to hit the snooze button, skip a chore, or delay a task, pause for a moment. Ask yourself: am I escaping responsibility, or am I seeking peace?
The answer to that question can turn even the smallest skipped moment into an act of self-awareness.
Because in the end, routines keep our lives structured — but knowing when to step outside them keeps our spirits alive.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE.
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I probably loved French class the most. Even though I didn’t know one single French-speaking person and wasn’t really sure if I would ever use it, I loved getting to know another language.
We probably enjoy what we’re naturally good at and don’t find too challenging, or maybe that’s just lazy old me, but it was “easy” to pick up. Because I got good marks with little effort, of course it was my fave.
French is Canada’s second official language so we have to take it up until high school but I also took it as an elective all throughout high school.
Has it served me at all? Nope. But I still remember bits and pieces of it and still enjoy it.
Someday I will visit Quebec and France and it will come in handy.
Soon it will be ice fishing time again, temps have been chilly, ice is bein’ made!So beautiful
Full moon low in the sky again this morning.
Well, mostly full.
Only four or five crows this morning. Plus a single hawk shouting, “All right, all right! I’m going! I’m going already!” As it fled a crow chasing it, screaming the whole time.
(Autocorrect wanted ‘chafing’, which would have entirely changed the tone of this story!)
One crow got greedy, repeatedly trying to fit a third peanut in its beak. It kept dropping one, and eventually, another crow came along and grabbed the fallen peanut.
And now I’m worried about the flowers along my walk.
This poem considers the brief and mysterious nature of time and how it affects our lives. It looks at the lessons, challenges, and joys that time offers, encouraging us to appreciate each moment with patience and gratitude.
It’s a gentle meditation on living fully and paying attention to the subtle messages that time gives us.
# Whispers of Time #
Time tells a tale both strange and true, Yesterday’s dreams, today’s the view. A touch of joy, a shadow of sorrow, Life is a river, flowing to tomorrow.
It stops for none, neither king nor poor, Yet those who listen, find life’s hidden door. It whispers patience, it hums of deeds, It answers our hopes, it plants the seeds.
Time heals the wounds with gentle hand, Guides the heart to understand. No blame to carry, no grudge to keep, It writes its messages, awake or asleep.
It tests, it molds, it shapes each turn, From every fall, there’s something to learn. Those who bend, not break, with its flow, Finding light in journey, let their spirits grow.
Time has a style both fierce and sweet, Smile, live fully, make each moment complete. Who can know what the next hour will bring? Yes, Cherish the present—it’s everything.
Another dull one. But it’s Friday…I’ve decided Fridays should be no-complain days . Why? Because it’s Friyay – and there’ll be extra winks the next day.
Subjects? School was for fun and meeting friends not to rack my brain with unnecessary studying It was an escape from the land of the living.
Maths and science? I still don’t know them. I was too tender for the grind they asked.
But then I met English and History discovered the spoken language that made history memorable and beautiful. In them I lived in fact and fiction real and imagined stories woven together. They captivated my days and wove dreams at night. I lived through those stories they gave me flight.
As my daughter says, “It’s good to learn about the past, because it makes the present.”
Then there was PT. What else could one ask for? Words and sports – those were what I lived for.
I enjoyed my school life, mostly because of the friendships I developed. But it wasn’t always fun, of course. Clearly, I learned something useful, otherwise, I wouldn’t be writing nonsense today.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and peaceful mood. Today’s writing prompt — “What book are you reading right now?” — arrives at just the right moment, perfectly in tune with the quiet rhythm of my evening.
It’s 11 PM. After a long and busy day, I’ve finally settled into my cozy reading spot with my current book resting in my hands.
The room is quiet, the night still. The soft glow of the bedside lamp spills gently over the pages, and the familiar scent of paper fills the air.
The weight of the book feels grounding — a comforting reminder that even in a fast-moving world, there are still simple joys that can slow us down.
Just as I begin to lose myself in its words, I scroll through my WordPress feed and come across this prompt.
The timing feels serendipitous, almost like the universe inviting me to pause and reflect on what reading truly means to me — and to share what’s unfolding in this peaceful moment.
The Ritual of Reading
Reading has become my nightly ritual — a gentle act of self-care before sleep. After a day filled with noise, screens, and endless tasks, there is something deeply soothing about opening a book and letting my mind wander into another world.
Some nights, I read stories that spark imagination and adventure. On others, I turn to pages that remind me of my own journey — stories that mirror the joys, losses, and longings that have shaped who I am.
My bookshelf, a humble collection that grows with time, feels like a map of my life. Each book holds a memory: a recommendation from a dear friend, a spontaneous find at a local bookstore, or a title I stumbled upon by happy accident.
Watching that little collection expand brings me quiet satisfaction — a tangible record of the stories and souls that have touched my heart.
I’ve set a small personal goal: to finish one book each week. It’s not about speed or achievement, but about consistency — the gentle discipline of making time for something that truly nourishes me.
Ek Adhuri Prem Kahani — A Book Close to My Heart
At the moment, I’m reading Ek Adhuri Prem Kahani — a book that holds a very special place in my heart. It’s not just a story I’m reading; it’s one I once lived and wrote.
With every chapter, I find myself revisiting fragments of my own past — emotions once raw and tender, now softened by time.
It feels as though I’m conversing with a younger version of myself, listening to his dreams, fears, and reflections on love, loss, and longing.
This book is a reminder of the courage it took to pen down thoughts that once lived only in my heart. To see them take shape as words, then as a complete story, is a deeply humbling experience.
As I turn each page, I’m not merely reading — I’m reconnecting with my journey, acknowledging how far I’ve come, and embracing the lessons that remain timeless.
Reading Ek Adhuri Prem Kahani at night brings a sense of calm closure to my day. The quiet helps the words sink in more deeply.
The emotions resonate more strongly. It’s almost meditative — a dialogue between my present self and the echoes of my past.
Books — The Bridge Between Time and Emotion
Books have an extraordinary ability to bridge time and emotion. They allow us to travel across worlds and lifetimes, yet somehow lead us back to ourselves.
They are not just stories; they are reflections of human experience — windows into hearts we’ve never met, and mirrors to our own.
For me, books have always been dear friends. They offer comfort during solitude, wisdom during confusion, and joy during stillness. In their company, I’ve found laughter, courage, and countless moments of inspiration.
Some stories make us dream, others make us question, and a few — like Ek Adhuri Prem Kahani — remind us to feel deeply and live authentically.
That, I believe, is the true power of reading — it teaches us not only about the world, but about ourselves.
My Final Reflection
Tonight, as I close my book and prepare to rest, I’m filled with quiet gratitude — for the stories that find us when we need them most, and for the magic of words that continue to shape our inner world.
Reading is more than a pastime; it’s a grounding experience. It anchors us in the present moment, offering stillness amid chaos and meaning amid uncertainty.
Each book we hold is a new beginning — an invitation to explore, to feel, and to grow.
So, dear reader, I turn the question to you: What book are you reading right now? Is it an old favorite that brings comfort, or a new discovery that’s opening fresh doors of thought and imagination?
Whatever it may be, I hope it brings you the same joy, peace, and reflection that Ek Adhuri Prem Kahani brings to me.
Happy reading, fellow book lovers — may your nights be filled with words that linger long after the pages are turned.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Math! When I was in elementary and high school, my favourite subject was mathematics. Well, life is unpredictable. I am now in writing, so my amazing readers think my favourite subject is English. Nooo, life just brings me here. I just follow what’s in my heart, what resonates with me, and what matters to me. Isn’t it right? I know.
Thanks so much for reading, my amazing readers! Enjoy your day!
यह कविता “वक्त” की अनमोलता और उसकी विविधताओं पर केंद्रित है। यह बताती है कि जीवन में सुख-दुःख, संघर्ष और सफलता का अनुभव समय के साथ आता है। जो व्यक्ति समय की चाल को समझकर उसके अनुसार चलता है, वही जीवन में सफल होता है।
कविता हमें यह भी याद दिलाती है कि समय हर घाव का मरहम है, और इसे समझकर जीने वाला ही अपने जीवन को सार्थक बना सकता है।
# वक़्त का पैग़ाम #
वक्त की है ये अजब कहानी, कल था सपना, आज वीरानी। थोड़ी खुशी, थोड़ा सा ग़म, जीवन है दोनों का संगम।
वक्त रुकता नहीं किसी के लिए, चाहे राजा हो या फ़कीर कहिए। जो समझे वक़्त की चाल, उसकी किस्मत हो जाये निहाल।
कभी सिखाता सब्र का मोल, कभी दिखाता कर्म का गोल। वक्त कसौटी, वक्त ही साज़, इससे बढ़कर कुछ नहीं आज।
वक्त के संग जो चलना जानें, वो अपनी मंज़िल को पहचानें। जो ठहर गया बीच राह में, वो हार गया जीवन के माने।
वक्त देता हर घाव का मरहम, बस दिल में हो सच्चा करम। ना शिकवा, ना कोई इल्ज़ाम, वक्त ही लिखता अपना पैग़ाम।
कभी परखता, कभी तराशता, हर मोड़ पर कुछ सिखलाता। जो झुक गया रीति समझकर, वो जीवन को सफल बनाता।
वक्त का है अद्भुत अंदाज़, कभी सजा, कभी है नाज़। मुस्कुरा कर जी लो हर पल, कौन जाने—क्या हो कल।
This morning, in our friends’ group chat, a friend told us she had a root canal done yesterday. She suddenly had a broken tooth, cavities in her wisdom teeth (which she’s never had before), and an infection spreading quickly. Apparently, all these tooth problems are due to estrogen levels dropping during perimenopause.
That was news to us. I never thought even our teeth would be affected, and I’ve never heard anyone mention oral issues before. But when you think about it, if menopause affects nearly every part of our body, why should teeth be spared? Still, this perimenopause is messing with enough of our lives already. We’re dealing with the physical, emotional, and mental, it could at least spare the teeth. Let us have some dignity and enjoy our food in peace!
There’s so much information being shared about perimenopause these days, and it feels like something new gets added everytime. As helpful as it is, the information overload can be exhausting. No one seems to talk about how to deal with it all. So, I go with the flow.
The mood swings are terrible some days. It feels like I’m raging for no reason, though I sometimes wonder if the rage comes from something deeper, something I’ve not identified and fully faced. The hormones are definitely wreaking havoc. Even my daughter says my hair looks like a mop . My body feels like a stranger, some days I know it, and other days I can’t understand it at all. The physical toll wears me down. Finding energy feels like a quest. I blow hot and cold within the same minute, and my memory which is already unreliable, seems to be having even more fun at my expense.
Yet aging also brings a quiet liberation. You start taking things with a pinch of salt. You stop caring so much about society’s expectations. With experience comes a bit of wisdom, and a deeper need for peace over chaos. You grow confident in your own company. Solitude becomes a comfort, not a sentence.
You begin to accept and even embrace the changes. The body is transitioning, but you also realize you are more than your physical form, once tied to motherhood and fertility. What you once thought defined you is evolving. Now it’s about claiming your womanhood – untamed, unfiltered and fiercely alive.
It is not an easy feat though. Sometimes it feels like your body is betraying you. But it’s also your teacher, revealing a new you, transforming day by day, reshaping how you live, love and laugh. It feels like getting a second chance at life, only this time, you’re living it unapologetically.
Menopause isn’t an ending. It’s a quiet revolution; a moment when your body stops whispering for others and starts speaking for itself. And for me, it speaks a little too loud, it scares my family .
I hope this new day greets you with peace and positivity. Every now and then, a question appears that stirs something gentle inside us — an invitation to pause and reflect. Today’s writing prompt — “What podcasts are you listening to?” — did exactly that.
It reminded me how voices, carried through invisible waves, can educate, comfort, and even heal.
Podcasts, to me, are not just digital audio shows; They are living conversations — companions for our solitary walks, our quiet drives, and our moments of reflection.
So, let’s explore together the voices that shape our thoughts, nurture our hearts, and add meaning to our days.
The Daily — A Window to the World
Mornings often begin with “Listen to this Story,” created by me. It’s a thoughtful start to the day — one story, well told, offering clarity amidst the constant rush of information.
Listening to Michael Barbaro’s calm narration over a cup of tea feels grounding. The world may seem vast and chaotic, but this podcast reminds me that understanding brings peace, and empathy turns news into something human.
On Purpose with Jay Shetty — Conversations for the Soul
Some days, we don’t need news; we need nourishment for the spirit. That’s when I turn to On Purpose with Jay Shetty.
Jay’s serene voice and heartfelt insights have a way of slowing life down. His conversations with guests often touch on mindfulness, self-worth, and love — themes that quietly awaken reflection.
Each episode feels like a heart-to-heart talk with a wise friend who helps you see life more gently.
It’s not just a podcast; it’s a reminder to live with awareness, gratitude, and grace.
The Diary of a CEO — Honesty and Humanity
Steven Bartlett’s The Diary of a CEO offers something rare — honesty. His discussions with entrepreneurs, artists, and changemakers go beyond the glossy surface of success. They reveal fears, failures, and lessons that shape resilience.
Listening to these raw, unfiltered stories often leaves me inspired — not because they talk about winning, but because they celebrate trying.
They remind us that every step forward, however small, has its own quiet triumph.
Stuff You Should Know — The Joy of Curiosity
Curiosity is one of life’s simplest joys. Stuff You Should Know celebrates that spirit beautifully.
Its hosts, Josh and Chuck, transform everyday topics into fascinating stories — from how laughter works to the origins of everyday inventions.
I love listening to it during evening walks; it brings a spark of wonder and keeps learning playful.
It’s proof that the world is full of little miracles, waiting to be discovered through curiosity.
Calm Mind Café — A Pause for Peace
And then there are moments when I don’t seek knowledge or discussion — only stillness. In such times, I find solace in short mindfulness podcasts, such as Calm Mind Café.
These gentle reflections, often paired with soft music or meditative pauses, help me reset. Whether before sleep or in a quiet corner of the afternoon, these moments of calm remind me that silence too is a form of wisdom.
Why Podcasts Matter
Podcasts, in their simplicity, bring us back to the beauty of listening. They meet us where we are — on a morning walk, in traffic, or during a cup of tea — and yet they take us places we’ve never been.
They connect strangers through stories, spark new thoughts, and often remind us that learning and empathy go hand in hand.
To me, they are like bridges built from sound — connecting minds, hearts, and generations.
My Final Submission
As I reflect on the podcasts I listen to, I realize they mirror the rhythms of my own life — moments of curiosity, learning, and inner quiet.
Each voice I listen to adds a small piece to the mosaic of my understanding — of the world, of others, and of myself.
So, dear friends, I invite you to reflect too — What podcasts are you listening to these days? Maybe it’s one that makes you smile, or one that helps you dream a little bigger. Whatever it is, may it bring light to your day and wisdom to your heart.
Until next time, Keep listening, keep learning, and keep living with purpose.
It’s interesting how you want time to speed up when you’re young, only to have that completely turn around on you when you reach a certain age.
From probably age eleven onwards, I couldn’t wait to grow up. Move out on my own. Get married and have kids. Really start life. Be in control of every little thing on my own.
Then when it all happens, it just picks you up like a kleenex in a windstorm and it’s over before you know it. Kids are grown up and nearly all gone. (Thank god for Sid).
And you find yourself looking down the barrel of the last half of your life and you just want it to SLOW DOWN.
So yes I’d love more time. An extra hour in each day. An extra day in each week. I’d even take an extra month in each year, preferably in the summer though.
True love isn’t found in grand gestures —it’s built in patience, respect, and the quiet courage to walk together through every storm.
After forty-two years of marriage, this poem is my tribute to the woman who stood by me, believed in me, and made every ordinary day a blessing.
“Hello, My Better Half”
She came not with glitter or grand display, But love that grows in a steady way. No lofty words, no shining art, Just quiet strength and a faithful heart.
She held my dreams when hope felt small, Believed in me when I’d lost it all. Through storm and calm, she stayed near, Her voice is my comfort, soft and clear.
Not one to boast, not one to claim, Yet life with her was never the same. We built our world with trust and grace, Time could not fade her gentle face.
Beauty may fade, but truth will stay, Her love still lights up my everyday. Through forty-two years, both joy and pain, Her hand in mine has been my gain.
She walks beside me, calm and true— My life, my strength, begins with you.
Do I need more time? Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Honestly, I doubt I’m managing the time I have now as well as I should.
Today being a holiday, I took the opportunity to wake up late. Those few extra winks always put a spoke in the wheel – the routine gets messed up, and the next few hours turn into a scramble. But do I learn? No! I’ll still choose the extra winks. Routines, like rules, are meant to be broken, aren’t they?
I’ve always liked this poem by Kahlil Gibran on Time: And an astronomer said, Master, what of Time?
And he answered:
You would measure time the measureless and the immeasurable. You would adjust your conduct and even direct the course of your spirit according to hours and seasons. Of time you would make a stream upon whose bank you would sit and watch its flowing.
Yet the timeless in you is aware of life’s timelessness, And knows that yesterday is but today’s memory and tomorrow is today’s dream. And that that which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.
Who among you does not feel that his power to love is boundless? And yet who does not feel that very love, though boundless, encompassed within the centre of his being, and moving not from love thought to love thought, nor from love deeds to other love deeds?
And is not time even as love is, undivided and spaceless?
But if in your thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all the other seasons, and let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing.
And then, of course, there’s this timeless reminder from Ecclesiastes:
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.
Though I’m unsure what I do with time, what I’m learning is to embrace the moments and the seasons. Let time be my guide. It doesn’t hurt if, once in a while, I absentmindedly lose track of it. Actually, I lose it quite often .
New Daily Prompt:Do you ever treat yourself? What do you get yourself? Or are you too mature and selfless to do that sort of thing?
I don’t do it very often, but when I do, there’s usually a lot of hemming and hawing.
Do I really need it?
Can I afford it?
Is it practical?
And after getting it, I’ll be full of self doubt about the wisdom of getting it.
There will be residual guilt and regret.
But every once in a great while, I’ll reward myself with something without dithering or doubting.
I’ll see something I love and want and grab it as fast as I can.
Occasionally, that ends in disappointment (I’m looking at you, AliExpress 35mm film!), but most of the time, when I act without overthinking, my instincts prove out.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and with a cup of tea in hand. Today’s writing prompt caught my attention the moment I read it — “What was your favorite subject in school?”
Simple as it sounds, this question opens the door to a whole world of memories — of chalk dust and wooden benches, of laughter echoing through corridors, and of that one subject which made the long school day feel like a breeze.
As I look back, one subject stands out not merely for its lessons, but for how it shaped my curiosity and the person I am today — English Literature.
A Beginning with Stories
It all began in the quiet corners of the school library. While some students rushed to the playground during breaks, I often found myself lost between the pages of novels and poetry collections.
The smell of old books, the neat rows of classics, and the promise that each story held fascinated me.
When I first read Gulliver’s Travels and The Merchant of Venice, I realized that literature was not just about reading — it was about feeling. Every story transported me to another world, introduced me to new people, and taught me to see life from different angles.
In a world filled with equations, maps, and dates to memorize, English class felt like fresh air — an invitation to imagine and express.
The Magic of Words
What I loved most about English literature was its magic. A single line of poetry could make you think deeply, could lift your spirit, or could even make you question everything you knew.
Words have power — they can build bridges between minds, mend broken hearts, and carry emotions across time.
When our teacher explained metaphors or asked us to write essays, I began to see that words weren’t just tools; they were living things, each with its own rhythm and heartbeat.
One of my favorite memories was writing essays for competitions. I didn’t always win, but I loved the process — watching a blank page slowly fill with thoughts, ideas, and feelings.
Writing gave me freedom, and literature gave me language for that freedom.
Lessons Beyond the Classroom
The best subjects are the ones that don’t stay within the four walls of the classroom. English was exactly that.
Through stories, I learned empathy — how to understand the joys and sorrows of people I had never met. Through poetry, I learned sensitivity — how even silence could speak.
Literature also taught me perspective. When I read Shakespeare, Dickens, or Tagore, I realized that human emotions remain the same, even if centuries change. Love, ambition, jealousy, hope — they are timeless.
This realization made me observe people and life differently. It taught me that everyone has a story — and that listening, understanding, and expressing are skills far greater than memorizing facts.
The Teachers Who Made a Difference
Of course, no favorite subject becomes so without a teacher who breathes life into it. I still remember my English teacher, who entered the class with calm confidence and an infectious smile.
She never forced us to memorize; instead, she made us think. “What do you feel this poet wanted to say?” she would ask. And suddenly, the classroom would turn into a circle of ideas, discussions, and reflections.
She used to say, “Don’t just learn English — live it.”
And that’s what I tried to do. To this day, her words guide me every time I write, speak, or express myself.
A Lifelong Influence
Choosing English as my favorite subject didn’t just make school enjoyable — it shaped my future path.
The ability to communicate clearly, to listen deeply, and to express emotions through writing are all gifts that came from that early love for literature.
Even today, when I write blogs or read poems, I feel the same joy I felt as a student opening a new book for the first time. That excitement never fades. It’s proof that the right subject can become a lifelong passion.
Every Subject Has a Story
Of course, every subject has its own charm. Mathematics sharpens logic, Science teaches curiosity, History connects us to our roots, and Art fills life with color.
But for me, English was the thread that tied them all together — the language through which I could understand, express, and appreciate every other subject.
It gave me confidence, clarity, and a voice.
My Final Submission
So, if someone were to ask me today, “What was your favorite subject in school?” I would smile and say — English Literature.
Not because it was easy, but because it taught me how to think, how to feel, and how to express. It opened the door to imagination and understanding — gifts that continue to inspire my writing even today.
And perhaps that’s the beauty of education — we all have that one subject which doesn’t just teach us lessons, but stays with us forever.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Dream version: I’ll walk tall and feel strong because I kept up with the early morning workouts and continued walking everyday after work. I’ve got more muscle and less fat. In all the right places.
I’m still loving my job. Sid’s still loving school.
I made the leap and ran for city council and got elected.
My charity is going strong as I’ve found a corporate sponsor and allllll of the kids in Shamattawa are sporting brand new, brand name kicks and it’s brightened their lives.
It’s not asking much.
Little TazzyTaz now, I screenshot this when he facetimed me from the airport in Palm Springs
A meditative poem about embracing solitude not as absence, but as presence. It celebrates the inner peace that grows in silence— the art, wisdom, and joy found when one learns to simply be with oneself. A gentle reminder that completeness begins within.
# The Art of Silence #
In quiet hours, I sit with me, No rush, no race—just soul set free. The world outside may twist and turn, But here within, I slowly learn.
No need for noise to feel alive, In stillness, I begin to thrive. I greet the dawn with thoughtful grace, A gentle smile upon my face.
My hands paint stories, bold and bright, My words take flight in a silent night. The mirror shows no age or line, But strength and joy, both deeply mine.
I walk with me through every weather, Past and present, hand in hand together. I’m not alone—I am complete, With every heartbeat, calm and sweet.
The stars above, my quiet friends, Remind me life in stillness mends. Each breath a song, serene, sincere, Each moment precious, pure, and clear.
So let the restless cities roar, I seek no more, I crave no more. For peace resides where I belong— Within myself, both soft and strong.
My thoughts haven’t changed from last year’s. I still cannot look that far ahead, life doesn’t always pan out the way we want it to. I continue to believe in flexibility; when our goals aren’t realized, it isn’t failure, it’s re-direction.
Recently, I read something about the concept of milestones. It felt fitting for this question.
I believe we’ve been conditioned to think of milestones since birth. From childhood, we’ve been prepared to reach certain ones before a certain age – first teeth, crawling, first steps, first words, and so on. Yet every child grows and develops at their own pace. The “slower” ones grow up perfectly normal like everyone else.
As we grow, we begin to chart out our lives. Comparisons start creeping in. We can’t help but look around and notice how others are doing. Everywhere we look, people seem to be living their dream or achieving what they set out to do. It feels like everyone is blooming except you. That’s when you start to feel left behind, and failing.
I’m not against goals or milestones. Having a map of what we want and how to get there is a good thing. But it’s the competition, the idea that life is a race, that disturbs and unsettles.
Why do we treat everything in life as a competition? We all have our own seasons to bloom. Every soil of the human soul is different. There is no other “me.” My experiences are mine alone; no one can live them for me. The soil I’ve been planted in may require more nurturing and nourishment. Maybe it’s a season for growing deeper, for my roots to strengthen and stretch out. In another season, it could be time for pruning and shedding.
Every season is different, and every individual is their own person. We all have our seasons for blooming, and we cannot rush the process. We cannot measure our growth by milestones. And there is always that lie – that we’re left behind, that we’re late. It’s a lie we shouldn’t be listening to, yet we still do.
And maybe that’s where we often get it wrong, we see milestones as finish lines, not as part of the journey.
But what if it’s not about the end goal or the milestone itself? What if having a milestone simply means the journey in between? We have a starting point and we embark on it. We map our progress and setbacks, because nothing about life is linear. The in-between is where our self, our character, is developed, challenged, and changed. It’s where the breaking, molding, and renewal occur.
By the time we reach our milestone, our perception and approach have often undergone drastic change. We still rejoice in the achievement, but we also learn that achieving the goal isn’t the ultimate reward. It is the process of getting there that truly matters.
What we need to remember is that we are living out our purpose, and that we are allowed to change our minds, shift gears, and change direction. What worked before may not work in the season you’re in now. When that happens, you have to recalibrate. If you don’t, you’ll remain stuck.
Life gives us seasons for planting, growing, and blooming. Some seasons may not show visible bloom, but growth still happens inward. We need to learn how to grow gently and intentionally where we’re planted. The soil may not always be friendly, but how we nurture and care for ourselves becomes the difference.
New Daily Prompt:How much can you take before you get pushed over the edge?
I’m starting to get really irritated with work meetings.
I thought it was bad when I had entire days booked for meetings, preventing me from getting actual work done.
But now I’m getting ‘invited’ to two hour meetings.
And four hour meetings.
That’s a half day meeting!
And double booked.
Double booked!
Did I mention being double booked?
There are literally not enough hours in the day for all the meetings I’m being asked to attend.
Told I need to attend.
Even worse, I do need to attend these meetings.
That’s how crazy things are at work.
Big things are happening, and we do need to sit down and figure out how to do them.
The lunatics are running the asylum, they don’t realize they’re lunatics (or even worse, they do), and if I’m not one of them, I’m at the very least enabling them…
The OS is end of life, and Microsoft wants me to ‘upgrade’ to Win 11.
But the privacy horror stories I’m hearing (and have run into with friends and family’s computers) have pushed me in the opposite direction.
No, not to a Mac. Tried it once, regretted it on so many levels. You see me running a Mac or iPhone, you shoot me dead, cause it ain’t me.
I’ve narrowed down my upgrade path to Linux Mint or Zorin.
I’ve tried both and they seem pretty much functionally equivalent.
Zorin is the flashier of the two, with some Android phone integration built-in that I don’t really care about.
I have experience with Linux, having run Mint, Ubuntu, and Fedora before, and I’ve played with live versions of various other distributions.
(If you want to go way back, in college I tried to install Slackware from floppy disks … and failed. Couldn’t figure out how to install or launch X Window.)
This is my (non-work) daily driver laptop, so I want something that just works.
Something that doesn’t require a command line to install common applications.
I’m leaning towards Linux Mint. It’s been around longer, has a larger community surrounding it, and feels very mature.
But I’m curious. Any other techies out there with an opinion or recommendation?
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood, enjoying a moment of calm in your busy, screen-filled day.
Today’s writing prompt — “How do you manage screen time for yourself?” — is both timely and thought-provoking.
In an age where our lives are intertwined with glowing screens, managing screen time is no longer a luxury; it’s an essential act of self-care.
From the moment we wake up to the soft chime of our phone alarm to the time we scroll through messages before bed, screens accompany us like invisible companions.
But the real question is — are we managing them, or are they managing us?
The Morning Test: Who’s in Charge?
Most of us begin our day by checking notifications before even brushing our teeth. A small peek into the phone often turns into twenty minutes of scrolling — news updates, social media posts, and a few “urgent” emails. By the time we realize it, our mental space is already crowded before the day has even begun.
To manage this, I started setting one simple rule: No screen for the first 30 minutes after waking up.
Instead, I use this time to stretch, sip water, or step outside to feel the morning air. It may sound small, but this single practice changed the tone of my mornings.
It helped me start my day with my own thoughts instead of everyone else’s.
The Digital Dilemma
Screens are not our enemies. They connect us to loved ones, provide endless learning opportunities, and enable our work. The challenge lies in maintaining balance. When every part of our lives — socializing, entertainment, shopping, and even relaxation — moves online, boundaries blur. The same screen that helps us write, learn, and communicate also tempts us with distractions.
To counter this, I follow what I call the “3C Rule” for mindful screen use:
Create: Use screens to produce something — write, design, learn a new skill, or solve problems. Creation is purposeful.
Connect: Use screens to genuinely communicate with people — not just to scroll through highlight reels.
Consume: Limit passive consumption — endless videos, reels, or news cycles that leave the mind exhausted and cluttered.
Whenever I pick up my phone or open my laptop, I pause and ask: Am I creating, connecting, or just consuming? If it’s the last, I gently put the device down.
Setting Healthy Boundaries
Screen time management isn’t just about reducing hours; it’s about regaining focus. Here are a few techniques that helped me:
Scheduled breaks: I use the “Pomodoro technique” — 25 minutes of focused work followed by a 5-minute break away from screens. Those short pauses refresh both eyes and mind.
Screen-free zones: I’ve declared my dining table and bedroom “no-screen areas.” Meals feel more mindful, and sleep comes more easily when the phone is out of reach.
Digital sunset: One hour before bedtime, I disconnect from screens. Instead, I read a printed book, meditate, or reflect on the day. This simple shift has improved the quality of my rest and morning mood.
The key is consistency, not perfection. Some days, I fail — I answer one last message and end up scrolling for half an hour. But I remind myself that digital balance, like health or fitness, is a gradual process.
The Mind Behind the Screen
Managing screen time isn’t just about physical limits; it’s also about mental discipline. Often, we turn to screens to escape — from boredom, stress, or loneliness. The real challenge lies in facing those feelings instead of numbing them with digital distractions.
When I feel the urge to check my phone for no reason, I pause and ask myself: What am I really seeking — connection, comfort, or just distraction? This small act of awareness transforms mindless scrolling into conscious choice.
Meditation and mindfulness practices have also been powerful allies. Even 10 minutes of daily stillness helps me notice my habits and re-center my attention.
The more aware I become, the less dependent I feel on digital noise for stimulation.
Reclaiming Real Moments
We often underestimate how many beautiful, real-world moments we lose to screens — the warmth of a conversation, the melody of silence, the taste of food eaten slowly.
When I consciously reduced screen time, I rediscovered the joy of presence — watching the sunset without photographing it, having tea without checking notifications, and truly listening during conversations.
Ironically, life became fuller as my digital life became lighter.
Closing Thoughts
Managing screen time is not about rejecting technology — it’s about redefining our relationship with it. It’s about reclaiming our time, attention, and peace of mind. The goal isn’t to count the minutes we spend online, but to ensure those minutes matter.
So, dear friends, ask yourself today — Are your screens serving you, or are you serving them? When we learn to draw that line with intention and love, screens return to what they were meant to be — tools that enhance life, not replace it.
Let’s make that shift, one mindful moment at a time.
You know who probably never gets a party? People who are homeless.
So DOD or Day of the Downtrodden would be a national (and hopefully international) holiday where anyone or everyone who finds themselves down ‘n out and without a home, is going to live it up.
They’d receive a hot shower and a fresh set of clothes. Then a nap in the comfiest of beds prior to the party.
Then they’d either go out on the town with friends or they could choose to stay in and have a meal, cake and a party.
Don’t ask me the logistics or who would pay for it, it’s just something I dreamt up.
We went to Paint Lake yesterday to hike the loop out past the beach, amazing temps for November!So serene
There is a road near our place that we have to cross daily. It’s where the school bus drops my daughter. It can get chaotic, especially in the evenings. There are vehicles, motorists, people, carts selling stuff, like a cauldron of confusion. I look left and right multiple times before crossing, but you can never be sure where or how a vehicle or motorcycle might appear. I often find myself thinking I should not get caught in between cars.
Everyone is in a hurry; no one wants to wait or slow down. A car cannot peacefully take a turn when another comes barreling its way through. When I’m traveling by autorickshaw (a three-wheeler cab), I often think, we better not get hit or bump another vehicle. A small collision and the rickshaw could go careening. The drivers are reckless, careless, and act like they’re on an F1 circuit – and that’s not an exaggeration. The way they speed can raise anyone’s blood pressure.
I watch people hanging from trains and think, that’s how death happens. Train accidents, though lately reduced, still occur.
Lately, my thoughts have been drifting to our mortality. Nothing new there, but this time, it feels more persistent. I wonder if the people we leave behind would miss us. When it comes to family, just because one is family does not mean they’d miss you, especially when there’s no real relationship or interaction.
A bigger question lingers, would people even notice the absence? When communication fades, even the initial void gets filled or replaced with other things in life. We forget quickly. Our memories create new memories. We find that we are not irreplaceable after all.
Our photos stay, chats remain unread, our profiles linger, but presence is not something one can archive.
As difficult and painful as it is to accept, we like to think we matter more than we do. Perhaps importance is situational, relevant in a moment and forgotten in the next. The messages stop, someone else fills the space, conversations resume, and routines continue. Life does not stop rotating; it doesn’t pause for long. It remains consistent in its indifference.
Perhaps we are not remembered for our presence but for the moments we leave behind – the shared laughter, the kindness shown, the dreams we dared to speak of, the safety we once offered. Maybe it’s not people who are irreplaceable, but what they awaken in others.
And maybe the only way to survive, is to forget just enough.
I know this is quite a depressing thought to start off the week, but it’s also a thought that could keep us going – towards being replaceable.
New Daily Prompt:Have you ever come face to face with your mortality? How did you handle it? With grace and poise? Or did you need a change of underwear?
I face it every time I drive.
Have you seen the morons on the road these days??
And because my constitution is not made of sterner stuff, I sit on a double-folded towel.
When the Kiddos were much, much younger, I was able to blame the smell on them.
Not these days. For some reason, they refuse to ride with me now.
Even worse, the Missus makes me do my own laundry…
Yes, sometimes, the most profound progress happens in stillness.There comes a moment in every life when we stop chasing the clock and start listening to its silence. In that pause, we discover that time was never our enemy — it was our mirror, our teacher, our quiet companion. This poem is a gentle reminder to slow down, breathe, and let time walk beside you.
We Need Time
Do you need time — or do you need to slow down and meet it halfway?
Time isn’t running away — we are.
It doesn’t rush. it lingers softly while we race past the quiet corners of our own lives.
We need time — to grow without pressure, to heal without guilt, to create without fear, to love without conditions.
We need time — to sit in silence and hear our hearts whisper, to watch the sun melt into dusk, to call a friend and simply listen.
Time isn’t a thief; it’s a tender teacher. It asks for patience, and in return, offers wisdom, forgiveness, and grace.
So, take your time. Hold it gently — like the hand of someone you love.
Don’t count the hours — feel the moments.
Because life isn’t measured by how fast we go, but by how deeply we live, how kindly we pause, how wholly we are.
I hope today finds you well and cheerful, with a coffee cup nearby and thoughts swirling quietly in your heart.
Today’s writing prompt seems, at first, simple enough: “Who is the most famous or infamous person you have ever met?”
It’s the kind of question that nudges us towards stories of chance meetings with celebrities, unforgettable glances exchanged with revered artists, or the rare handshake with someone whose life has played out on the public stage.
Yet, as I pause and reflect, I realize that this question, in its essence, isn’t only about fame measured in headlines and applause.
It’s about impact, memory, and how lives touch ours—sometimes quietly, sometimes profoundly.
Let me begin with a cherished memory.
Years ago, at a literary gathering in the vibrant city of Delhi—a place pulsing with the energy of poets, writers, readers, and the aromatic promise of endless cups of coffee—I found myself in the presence of Gulzar Saab.
He is a legend whose pen has given voice to dreams, heartbreak, hope, and nostalgia for generations of readers and lovers of cinema.
The crowd around him was respectful, yet I felt an almost sacred hesitation about approaching him. Greatness evokes awe, and awe does not invite hurry.
But slowly, I gathered the courage, walked towards him, and introduced myself. I spoke, haltingly, about how his poetry resonated with my own as a writer and as a lover of words.
Gulzar Saab smiled gently, his eyes reflecting wisdom that seemed measured in years and syllables. He said, “Likhte rahiye, likhna sabse imaandaar ibadat hai.” (“Keep writing, writing is the most honest form of worship.”)
Those words lingered long after the applause had faded—the truest form of fame, perhaps, is kindness imparted in a quiet moment.
Meeting him taught me that greatness can be soft-spoken, and true legacy is built in the hearts, not just the headlines.
The question about the “infamous.
But the question also asks about the “infamous.” The duality intrigues me—the thin line separating admiration and notoriety, sometimes blurred by circumstance and perception.
I met a businessman at a seminar organized by our Bank, a local name known for success and questionable ethics. He spoke confidently about ambition and competition.
However, his ambition lacked empathy, creating an unsettling sharpness. That brief conversation reminded me that fame can cast a large shadow. People’s reputations—good or bad—are shaped by their values as much as by their achievements.
Yet, fame is not always about wealth or controversy. Sometimes, the most “famous” person you meet never appears on stage or in front of a camera.
For me, that person was my school principal. She wasn’t in the news or on TV, but her influence was felt in the school’s traditions. Her strong integrity and beliefs shaped the character of many students.
Fame fades, but character lasts
She often reminded us, “Fame fades, but character lasts.” Through her quiet impact, I learned the importance of living a meaningful life that endures beyond temporary applause.
As I consider the prompt deeper, I realize something subtle yet profound: The most transformative meetings in life are often with those who aren’t conventionally “famous” or “infamous.”
Sometimes it’s the teacher whose encouragement stays with us for decades, the stranger whose kindness echoes unexpectedly, or the parent whose wisdom becomes our compass.
These meetings, uncelebrated by history, mold us quietly and lastingly.
meeting with me.
And perhaps, as the years unfold, we must face the most intriguing encounter of all: meeting ourselves.
This thought may sound self-indulgent, but consider—the journey of knowing one’s own strengths, flaws, regrets, and dreams is perhaps the greatest story of all. We are each hero and antagonist in our own tales.
In a society obsessed with external appearances, learning to appreciate one’s own enduring worth is a powerful act of recognition. Each reflection in the mirror holds the marks of challenges overcome and love given or received.
I am deeply imperfect, shaped by mistakes and moments of doubt; but it is these very edges that carve my story and make me human.
To honor my authentic self is the ongoing work of a lifetime. In the world’s chorus of noise and distraction, true wisdom requires listening to the voice within—a quiet honesty that guides us toward meaning.
So, who is the most famous or infamous person you’ve met?
For some, it will be a celebrity whose presence left a trace. For others, a figure whose notoriety offered caution.
Yet, I’ve learned that the real answer often lies much closer—a teacher, a mentor, an everyday hero, or even a version of ourselves capable of both remarkable kindness and cautionary mistakes.
A life well-lived is not measured in how many recognize our name, but in how deeply our actions and words touch others.
Fame may draw a crowd’s applause, but genuine greatness sets forth ripples of quiet transformation. The tapestry of encounters—famous, infamous, forgotten, and self-made—reminds us that the true measure of significance is the lesson, not the label.
I hope this prompt encourages you to think about the amazing people you’ve met and the ongoing journey you are on.
Whether you meet shining poets or everyday heroes, remember their impact lives on, not in articles, but in the lessons you keep.
As you look in the mirror, value your unique story—yours—shaped by experiences and the bravery to be true to yourself.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Life truly never goes according to plan. And I found that out today, again. Sunday train travel is always unpredictable and chaotic. But this morning went a level higher. The app showed there were scheduled trains, but when we reached the station, there were no trains at all. All indicators were blank. Obviously, we had to wait until one finally came.
We normally get a fast train as it stops only at junctions, this speeds up traveling. But today’s fast turned into a slow, stopping at every station . Many passengers were frustrated because the arrival time goes haywire, and it does have a rippling effect on everything else. I couldn’t help thinking if the person working on the scheduling maybe woke up on the wrong side of the bed and thought, why suffer alone?
Our experience today made me think how life continually takes us by surprise. We make plans, have our routines and schedules, make sure we are punctual or even reach a little early. We have our lives in order, but plans don’t always stick, and there’s only so much we can control.
This is so human of us; although we cannot control a vast part of our lives, we still strive for control. Like puzzles, we try to arrange the pieces and fit them, sometimes forcibly, and it’s only when situations or circumstances fall apart that we realize or admit what isn’t right, and we change our perception or how we do things.
This morning’s incident served as a reminder that our lives are not completely ours. We can control a few aspects, but beyond that, we can only do our best. The trick, I guess, is in being flexible, open-minded, and not letting plans dictate our lives. As much as we need structure, the flip side is that structures are rigid and unbending. What we require is maybe, to be a little like chameleons – not the sneaky kind, but the adaptable kind that changes with the light.
The irony is, we grow most when things don’t go as planned. It’s the detours and delays that test patience, build resilience, and sometimes even lead us somewhere better than where we intended to go. I suppose the balance lies somewhere between structure and surrender, planning just enough to move but also leaving room for surprises.
Surprisingly, this morning I wasn’t flustered with the cancellations and delays, I took it in stride . If only I could be as calm every day, life would be a little peek into heaven for everyone .
This is the last shot from my first roll of Kodacolor 100 shot on my Pentax K-1000 with 100mm lens that I’m sharing here.
And it’s one of the ones where I thought of the theme / title before taking it.
Turns out horizontal bars aren’t slimming. Even as a shadow of myself, this photo makes me look fat! f5.6, 1/125sec (I think – I forgot to write it down!)
There’s a story behind that baby gate:
It’s been in the yard for years, a throw-back to when the Kiddos were, well, babies. Usually it lives wedged in the space between the house and the shed.
The bricks (and the wood) are to hold the gate down.
The gate needs to be held down so Doggo can’t keep digging at the tree root underneath it.
Just above the gate in this photo is the bottom of a dog house that has never been used.
By a dog. We’re pretty sure a colony of rats or possums lives under it.
Today is my birthday.My birthday …. Simple words — yet how they echo through the corridors of memory. Once upon a time, this day was pure magic.
I can still see the shimmering decorations, the laughter of friends, the joyful tune of a birthday song sung with unrestrained glee. The world seemed brighter, kinder — wrapped in ribbons and innocence.
Back then, birthdays meant balloons and surprises. Today, they mean reflection and gratitude. Somewhere between childhood and now, the meaning changed.
The candles grew fewer, but their light grew deeper. The noise faded, but the silence began to speak.
As the years went by, the day I once awaited eagerly became quieter — not empty, but thoughtful. I began to see it not as a celebration of getting older, but as a reminder that time is a sacred currency — spent, never saved.
Another year passes, filled with hard work, regrets tucked away in quiet corners, and dreams we promise to revisit “someday.”
But perhaps, birthdays are not about counting what has passed — they’re about awakening to what still can be.
Here’s a little truth I hold close: my official birthday is June 4th, yet I feel my true birthday is November 2nd — today. There’s always been a delightful confusion about which one to celebrate.
Maybe that’s the universe’s gentle way of saying: you don’t need just one day to feel alive — every day you awaken to truth is your rebirth.
And so, yes — today is my birthday.
Not merely a date on the calendar, but a moment of awareness, a quiet renewal of spirit.
I have read somewhere that our birthday carries immense spiritual significance. It’s not just an annual ritual but a sacred reminder — that the cosmos once chose us.
It poured its grace into the fragile form of a human body and whispered, “Live. Learn. Love. Grow.”
Lighting candles on a cake is a sweet tradition, but the real candle, the one that matters most, burns within. Each year, I try to tend to that flame — to keep it glowing despite the winds of time and circumstance.
On this day, I offer gratitude — to the Divine for this gift of existence, for another year of lessons, for the chance to become a little wiser, a little more compassionate.
I give thanks for the people who have walked beside me — for their love, kindness, and even their silence. And to those I may have hurt or misunderstood, I send forgiveness — for them, and for myself.
For what is life, if not a series of gentle awakenings?
As William Barclay so beautifully said, “There are two great days in a person’s life — the day we are born and the day we discover why.”
Perhaps birthdays are meant to bring us closer to that why. They nudge us to pause, to listen, to realign our journey with the quiet rhythm of the soul.
So today, I choose not to count years, but blessings. Not candles, but friendships. Not the wrinkles of time, but the grace they carry.
Each sunrise, each act of kindness, each forgiving thought — they all form the true garland of life.
Yes, I am growing older. But more than that, I am growing deeper — into peace, into understanding, into light.
Today is my birthday — a day of remembrance, renewal, and resolve. To live more consciously. To forgive more freely. To love more fully.
And above all, to keep my inner flame burning — bright enough to share its glow with others.
Because birthdays are not just about the passing of time. They are about the timeless invitation — to begin again..
“A positive mind doesn’t just change how we see the world—it changes how the world responds to us.”
Hello dear friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood.
As a retired person, I’ve come to realize that maintaining a positive mindset is both a challenge and a choice.
Life after retirement may slow down in pace, but it opens up a new chapter filled with opportunities for reflection, growth, and gratitude.
Yes, there are moments when keeping a positive outlook feels difficult—but it’s never impossible.
With the right mindset and a few helpful practices, I’ve learned to enjoy my daily routines, find peace in simplicity, and live with a sense of purpose.
Today, I’d like to share my thoughts on positive thinking and eight guiding principles that have truly made a difference in my life.
I hope they bring inspiration and encouragement to you as well.
The Power of Positive Thinking
Positive thinking is not just a pleasant idea—it’s a transformative force that shapes our reality.
Studies have shown that people who maintain a positive outlook cope better with stress, enjoy stronger immunity, and even have a lower risk of premature aging and illness.
When we think positively, we see possibilities instead of problems, lessons instead of losses, and abundance instead of lack. A positive mindset doesn’t mean ignoring difficulties—it means believing that no matter how tough things get, there’s always a way forward.
Here are eight simple yet powerful principles that can help cultivate a positive and fulfilling life.
1. Affirmations
Affirmations are small but mighty statements that reprogram your mind to focus on the good.
Every morning, I begin my day by repeating phrases like “I am capable,” “I am deserving of happiness,” and “I can achieve my goals.”
These simple lines act as gentle reminders that I have the power to shape my own mindset.
Over time, affirmations strengthen confidence and resilience, helping to replace doubt with belief and negativity with hope.
2. Compassion
Compassion is the heart of positivity. When we show kindness toward ourselves and others, we create an environment of warmth and understanding.
Compassion allows us to connect deeply, forgive easily, and live peacefully. It teaches us to be patient with our own flaws and considerate of others’ struggles.
Think of compassion as a soft blanket that comforts the soul—it helps positivity take root and flourish.
3. Gratitude
Gratitude is a simple yet transformative practice. Each morning, I take a moment to acknowledge three things I’m thankful for—it could be the morning sunlight, a caring friend, or a comforting cup of tea.
Shifting our focus from what’s missing to what’s present fills our hearts with contentment.
Gratitude opens our eyes to everyday blessings and turns ordinary moments into treasures of joy.
4. Mindfulness
In our busy lives, the present moment often slips away unnoticed. Mindfulness anchors us back to now.
I practice it through deep breathing, quiet reflection, or simply observing nature. It’s amazing how calming it feels to just be—without rushing or worrying.
Mindfulness reduces stress, sharpens focus, and nurtures emotional balance. It reminds us that peace isn’t found in the past or future—it’s right here, in this very moment.
5. Optimism
Optimism is not blind hope—it’s the deliberate choice to believe in better outcomes
.Life may throw challenges our way, but optimism helps us rise above them with strength and courage.
An optimistic outlook doesn’t erase problems; it empowers us to solve them. When we expect good things, we attract good energy. Optimism keeps the spirit light and the heart open to endless possibilities.
6. Resilience
Resilience is the ability to bounce back when life tests us.
It’s what turns setbacks into stepping stones. Positive thinkers don’t avoid hardships—they face them head-on, learn from them, and move forward stronger than before.
Every obstacle carries a lesson, and every challenge refines our inner strength. With resilience, we turn storms into stories of growth.
7. Self-Care
Self-care is the foundation of a balanced and positive life. Taking care of your body, mind, and soul ensures you have the energy to stay optimistic.
Whether it’s a morning walk, a favorite hobby, meditation, or simply resting without guilt—self-care refuels your inner light.
Remember, you can’t pour from an empty cup. Nurture yourself so that positivity flows naturally from within.
8. Visualization
Visualization is a mental rehearsal for success. When you vividly imagine achieving your goals, you set powerful intentions that guide your actions.
Picture your dreams clearly—whether it’s learning something new, improving your health, or simply living joyfully.
The mind believes what it consistently sees, and this belief motivates you to turn imagination into reality.
My Final Submission
By embracing these eight principles—affirmations, compassion, gratitude, mindfulness, optimism, resilience, self-care, and visualization—we cultivate a garden of positivity within ourselves.
Each one strengthens the other, creating a mindset that helps us navigate life’s challenges with grace and hope.
Positivity doesn’t mean every day will be perfect, but it does mean that we can find something good in every day.
So, dear friends, let’s continue to think positive, act with kindness, and live with gratitude. Because when our thoughts are bright, our world becomes brighter too.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I mean, of course I’d want to go back and re-do moments that led to the biggest regrets in my life. But what fun is a perfect life?
And anyway I’m a firm believer in things ending up the way they do, because of the decisions made in the moments just before. In other words, if any one moment, not to mention year, had played out differently, I wouldn’t have what I have now.
I don’t like imagining that.
I recently started doing guided meditation again, and the second line of the mantra is “I’m exactly where I need to be”. I love saying it. It’s such a good reminder.
Looking over my left shoulder, my cozy chaotic messy home
There are just a few more shots left from my first roll of Kodacolor 100 shot on my Pentax K-1000 with 100mm lens.
And I’m skipping the self-portraits, so that leaves me with even less material to share.
So I better make this next photo a lively one.
The last apple on the apple tree. I think it’s mooning me… f5.6, 1/125sec
Did I succeed?
Again, I can’t overstate how impressed I am by the color reproduction of this film. The sky is exactly the blue I remember, and the apple is exactly the red it is when I go out into my backyard and look at it again.
New Daily Prompt:What do the daily prompts mean to you? Why do you answer them?
Sorry, this is a long one. I try to avoid challenging people’s attention spans, but every once in a while I feel the need to write an essay.
When I first started answering the daily prompts, it was an exciting writing challenge.
I treated them like my improv classes: no prep, no planning, just read and answer on the spot.
When they started to repeat, I took it in stride.
I’d find a fresh twist, a new answer.
Then they’d repeat again.
This was disappointing, but I strove to rise to the occasion.
I tweaked the prompt, employing a minor adjustment of a word or letter to invent an entirely new prompt.
Then they’d repeat again.
This, at last, really started to torque me off (and not in the good way!). But I didn’t want to give them up.
So I started ignoring the repeats, doing my own ‘newdailyprompts’.
These were intended as an outlet for me, as a source of entertainment and interest for others who also tired of the repeats, and were, essentially, an attempt on my part to not just keep the spirit of the dailyprompt going, but to shame the WordPress slackers who had evidently given up into getting back in the saddle.
I’ve been doing the new prompts for a while now, and I’m starting to tire of them.
And when I say tire, I mean, struggle to come up with new ones.
I know, I know, that old saying, “Don’t judge a WordPress employee until you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins” immediately comes to mind, doesn’t it?
Does this mean the WordPress people were justified in blowing us off and I was wrong to criticize them?
No.
It demonstrates that they could, any time they wanted to, have found new sources for prompts and cycled through them, in essence, forever.
I would have happily done it for them for a while, then someone else could have taken over when I started to flag, and then someone else.
Others here have shown that there are ample sources of alternative prompts out there.
So I still think the WordPress writers are *ssholes.
But during all this daily prompt navel gazing, I eventually said to myself, “OK, you narcissistic jerk, you’re demanding to know what these prompts are to you. But what about others? What do these prompts mean to them?”
What, in fact, do any (and all) of my posts, daily prompt or otherwise, mean to others?
It’s a fair question.
Especially if you’re insecure like me.
Are they interesting?
I try to be interesting.
Are they funny?
I endeavor to be at least mildly amusing.
Are they entertaining?
God, I hope they’re entertaining.
Or, at the very least, so bad they’re good.
Then I think about the people who don’t just follow me, but have signed up for an email every time I post something.
That makes me think of the short, offhand posts I often write.
They come to me in a flash, and really belong on a place like Twitter X, but I’m not on those platforms any more, so I push them here.
Rarely are my posts very long, but even these super short ones, sometimes only a single line long, presumably generate an email.
Am I, in doing this, irritating the people who signed up for email updates?
Do they read the brief email and think, “What an effin’ waste of electrons!”
(Will they be secretly pleased by the lengthy email triggered by this post?)
Are they too polite to unsubscribe, instead just adding me to their spam list?
Am I overthinking this whole thing?
I suspect the answer to at least one of those questions is a resounding, “Yes!”
But I do wonder not just about what I’m getting out of being here, but what the people who read my posts get out of being in this very ianmdudley corner of here.
I get an outlet, a way to vent, a way to express the absurdity of life, the joys I encounter, the magic I still sometimes find in the world, along with the paradoxes and inanity.
(I try not to stray into injustices too often because I find them depressing and, therefore, I assume others would too.)
I have a few regulars who comment, and I’ve no doubt they’re here because I’m, if nothing else, not boring them. I am, somehow, engaging enough that they interact with me.
That’s probably the best thing I get out of being here:
Interaction.
But not an arms race of likes and upvotes.
Genuine interaction.
Exchanges of ideas.
Sharing commonalities.
Thought-provoking discussions.
And in theory, they’re getting interaction (with me) out of this.
Such as it is.
I have regulars who like but don’t comment. I see them over and over again in my notifications. I’m not boring them either, it seems, but I’m not making a big enough splash in their reading to trigger a conversation.
Which is fine. I don’t find validation in comments. Or likes. Or even views.
(But I do like it when I rack them up!)
Just knowing they are there is enough.
I suppose that’s another reward of being here:
Feeling seen.
Maybe not by vast number of adoring fans.
But by real people from all walks of life.
Who honor me with a few minutes of their attention each day.
I hope they come away thinking the expenditure is worth it.
So it turns out I get a lot out of being here on WordPress.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is one that instantly warms the heart—“What is good about having a pet?”
The moment I read it, I could almost hear the soft pitter-patter of paws, the gentle rustle of feathers, and the quiet purr of contentment that seems to echo from a corner of memory.
Pets, in their simple, loving ways, add a kind of magic to our everyday lives—a magic that can’t be bought, only felt.
Companionship Beyond Words
In a world that’s often busy, noisy, and sometimes lonely, pets are living reminders of the beauty of companionship.
They don’t need fancy words or long conversations to make you feel understood. A wagging tail, a curious stare, or the soft brush of fur against your leg can speak volumes.
They’re there for you when words fall short—listening without judgment, loving without expectation.
A dog sitting beside you during a tough day or a cat curling up near your heart on a rainy afternoon—these are quiet moments that heal the unseen parts of us.
Pets somehow find a way to fit into the empty spaces of our hearts, and suddenly, we are not alone anymore.
The Kind of Love That Never Wavers
What’s truly good about having a pet is the kind of love they give—the pure, unconditional kind.
You could have a rough day, forget a task, or lose your temper, but your pet will still greet you like you’re the most important person in the world.
There’s something deeply humbling about that kind of devotion.
A dog’s loyal eyes, a cat’s soft purr, even the playful chirps of a bird—all remind us that love doesn’t need perfection.
It only needs presence. Pets don’t care about our flaws or failures. They see us, love us, and stay—always.
Health, Happiness, and Healing
Beyond emotions, pets bring genuine health benefits too. It’s a fact that people with pets often live happier, longer, and more balanced lives.
A morning walk with your dog becomes a peaceful ritual—a moment to breathe, stretch, and smile. Feeding or grooming a pet adds rhythm to life, a sense of purpose that keeps one grounded.
The laughter they spark, the calm they bring, the responsibility they inspire—all these contribute to our physical and mental well-being.
Even science agrees: petting an animal can lower blood pressure, reduce stress, and release “feel-good” hormones that lift our spirits.
Anchors in a Drifting World
There’s something profoundly comforting about the constancy of pets. In a world that keeps changing—people moving, jobs shifting, seasons passing—our pets remain steady. They don’t care about your success or status; they only care that you’re there.
Their small routines—waiting by the door, following your footsteps, curling up in their favorite spot—become part of our daily rhythm, weaving a silent bond that feels eternal.
And when the day ends, their quiet presence beside us feels like a promise that no matter what happens outside, home will always hold love inside.
A Memory Named Bruno
This question led me down memory lane, back to a time when my loyal companion, Bruno, a magnificent German Shepherd, graced my life with joy, love, and unforgettable moments.
Bruno wasn’t just a pet. He was family—a silent guardian and furry therapist who always seemed to know how I was feeling. His absence still echoes through the hallways of my home and heart.
But even now, he continues to shape how I perceive the true meaning of companionship, which, in my humble opinion, makes dogs among the best pets one could ever have.
The Best Pets: Dogs – Loyal Hearts on Four Legs
Dogs are rightly called “man’s best friend.” Their loyalty, intelligence, and intuitive nature create an unbreakable bond with their humans.
Bruno was a shining example of this. If I were feeling low, he’d rest his head on my lap, his eyes full of empathy. On happy days, he’d bounce with excitement, his tail wagging like a metronome of joy.
His presence reminded me that pets don’t just live with us—they live for us. I often wished I could tell him, “You are the light that made my life brighter.” Perhaps he already knew.
Dogs have an incredible way of communicating— through body language, expressive eyes, and the occasional slobbery lick—but if only they could understand our words,
I’d tell Bruno how deeply grateful I am for every moment we shared. From their protective instincts to their playfulness, dogs offer a beautiful blend of love, adventure, and comfort.
They require care, yes, but in return, they give you their whole heart. What more could one ask for?
The Worst Pets: Exotic Animals – A Beautiful Burden
On the flip side, not every animal makes a good pet. While it might seem fascinating to keep exotic creatures like snakes, monkeys, or big cats, the truth is, they are not domesticated in the way dogs or cats are.
These animals have specific dietary, environmental, and emotional needs that are difficult to replicate in a home.
Reptiles like iguanas or snakes may be intriguing but don’t offer companionship. Monkeys, despite their intelligence, can become unpredictable and even aggressive as they mature.
Such pets aren’t “bad,” but they belong to the wild, where they can live freely and naturally. Keeping them in captivity often does more harm than good—to the animal and the owner alike.
Cherished Memories and Life Lessons
Bruno, with his curious nature, often made me laugh. I still recall a winter evening when he proudly paraded around the house with a stolen woolen sock—his little trophy.
Though he never understood why he couldn’t dig up the garden or why the postman didn’t want to play fetch, his innocence made him all the more endearing.
If I could tell him one last thing, it would be this: “Your joy, loyalty, and simple presence brought warmth into my life that words could never capture.”
Pets teach us to live in the moment. Bruno didn’t worry about the past or the future. He savored every walk, every treat, every cuddle.
And that, I believe, is the greatest lesson pets can offer—to love deeply and live simply.
The Light They Leave Behind
So, what’s good about having a pet? Everything. They bring laughter to our mornings, peace to our nights, and love to the spaces in between.
They remind us that home isn’t made of walls—it’s made of hearts that beat together, human and animal alike.
Their paw prints may fade from the floor, but never from our hearts. And perhaps that’s the truest gift of all: the quiet realization that love, in its purest form, sometimes walks on four legs and answers to a name like Bruno.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Going home
Yesterday was a kind of beautifully lazy day for me with my family. At noon, my third eldest sister started enjoying karaoke. Later, my eldest sister stepped in, but our microphone, sounds, and wifi seemed to have minds of their own; hence, it was a thrillsome singing. We had a nice laugh here.
But later, it worked fine, and my sister finally sang her favorite Hillsongs. It’s funny how I took the video showing different interests of my sisters at the same time. Find out here.
Today is All Saints Day; thus, the whole family, except my youngest sister, went to the cemetery to attend the Holy Mass and light some candles to our dead loved ones. My nephew and niece brought their little “trick or treat” bag, and my sister just put some candies and bubble gum in it, at which their faces lit up with excitement.
The Holy Mass had been started when my sister and I arrived there since Kuya came home late, too. It took only an hour, and they all blessed the tombs.
It was a little muddy, so it’s good to wear boots. After offering some prayers and candles, we went home and took our lunch. My youngest sister cooked “biko.” It’s sweet and sticky, made of rice and sugar with other ingredients.
Sister, niece, and nephewBiko
It’s going to be a family day; thus, I’m going to catch up with you after the holidays. I appreciate you and your continuous support. Enjoy your weekend and stay safe. Thank you so much always, my amazing readers!
Jinu- Kpop Demon Hunters
This morning, I imagined the sunrise to be a spectacular one – the sky clothed in pink and then orange. But soon after, there was a change. The colors gave way to dark clouds that hovered, followed by a light drizzle. The weather was finicky.
I have to pause for a minute. October is over, done forever. I’m still wrapping my head around how quickly the month went by. It feels like I opened my mouth to yawn, and before I could close it, October was gone. What did I do? What actually happened? I know the years are passing faster, but this October seemed to be on the run, or chasing something. If this month is any indication, November will blink, and we’ll be onto Christmas and New Year. Another year done. While I’m… still here. Stagnating a little. Nowhere to go.
Since time is busy rushing on, exam season is almost here. Little girl will have her second term, and the teen his prelims. To be honest, I forget when his exams are due (bad mom here ). He’s very independent and prefers to do things on his own. He finally knows what he wants to do. I can’t believe how grown up he is, yet still so childish at heart. I love how he bonds with his sister. They play online games together, and he listens to whatever she says. They also fight like cats and dogs. It’s a joy and a privilege watching them grow, learning to cherish each other. They’re both growing up too quickly. Time passes.
Little girl never fails to make me laugh. She’s learning to embrace her silly self, and I love that about her. She comes up with the funniest words. Earlier today, she called herself an “insister” after trying to justify her actions even though she was clearly wrong. I told her she insists too much, and she turned it into a title! She also makes up words like “studyfying” (apparently she enjoys studying everything except her school books ), calls unfamiliar insects “crawlinators,” and describes herself as someone who “imaginates.” I have no idea how she comes up with these, but it’s delightful.
Diwali is over, and the glittering lights across the city have dimmed and gone. Yet it serves as a quiet reminder, the lights of the world fade away, but there is one light that never dims. Jesus said, “I am the light of the world.” (John 8:12)
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood! Today’s writing prompt is truly fascinating — “What is the most expensive personal item you’ve ever purchased (not including your home or car)?”
At first, I smiled, thinking how such a simple question could stir so many memories. We often associate expense with luxury — a sparkling watch, a diamond ring, perhaps a sleek gadget.
But when I began to look beyond price tags and possessions, I realized that the value of an item isn’t always written on a receipt. Sometimes, it’s written in how it changes your life.
For me, that item was an antique writing desk — a piece of history that became a part of my own story.
The Day I Found It
It was an ordinary afternoon, the kind of day when time seems to move gently. I was walking through a quiet street lined with small antique shops, each one filled with whispers of the past.
Inside one such shop, surrounded by the scent of aged wood and old paper, I saw it — a majestic mahogany desk, its surface gleaming softly beneath the afternoon light.
There was something deeply inviting about it. The intricate carvings on its edges, the brass handles dulled with time, the quiet dignity of its structure — all spoke of craftsmanship from an era that valued patience and perfection.
I remember running my hand over its smooth surface and feeling an inexplicable connection, as though it had been waiting for me all along.
Then I looked at the price tag — and hesitated.
It wasn’t cheap, not by any means. My practical side whispered, You don’t need this. You already have a table at home.
But another voice, softer yet stronger, said, This isn’t about need. It’s about meaning.
And that day, meaning won.
Why This Desk Matters
After years of working in structured, disciplined environments, retirement brought with it a quieter rhythm. I began to write more — reflections, poems, and small pieces of my thoughts that once lived only in the corners of my mind.
Yet, I lacked a place that truly felt like mine — a corner where my thoughts could take root and my creativity could breathe freely.
That’s what the desk became.
When it arrived home, I placed it near a window where sunlight filters in each morning. I remember sitting down for the first time, pen in hand, heart full of gratitude.
Since then, it has been my constant companion — through poems born out of joy, essays born out of reflection, and even those quiet moments when words refuse to come but thoughts linger anyway.
It is, quite literally, the heart of my creative world.
Lessons Beyond the Price Tag
Owning that desk taught me something profound — that value isn’t defined by numbers. The worth of an object lies in its ability to connect — to connect you with your thoughts, with your emotions, with your sense of purpose.
Every mark on its surface tells a story. The faint ink stain on one corner reminds me of a night spent lost in writing.
The tiny scratch across the drawer handle takes me back to the day my granddaughter sat beside me, coloring while I wrote. She often calls it “Grandpa’s magic table,” and in her innocence, she may be right — it has indeed been a source of quiet magic in my life.
This desk has seen me at my best and my most uncertain. It has silently listened to my thoughts, held my papers, my dreams, my drafts — and in its stillness, it has become a witness to my creative journey.
The Deeper Meaning of the Prompt
When I think about it now, this writing prompt isn’t just about an expensive item. It’s really about what we choose to give value to.
For some, it might be art, for others a musical instrument, a book collection, or a camera.
Whatever it is, these items become extensions of who we are — reminders of what brings us joy, fulfillment, and meaning.
Yes, technology and possessions have their purpose, but the things that truly stay with us are those that touch the soul.
My desk isn’t just wood and polish — it’s a space where thoughts come alive, where ideas take shape, where I continue to grow even after years of learning and unlearning.
It reminds me each day that creativity needs a home, and sometimes that home is a humble desk with a heart full of stories.
My Final Submission
So, dear friends, the most expensive personal item I ever purchased wasn’t just an indulgence — it was an invitation. An invitation to slow down, to reflect, to create, and to cherish the quiet joy of writing.
We all have that one thing — not necessarily costly, but deeply meaningful — that grounds us, inspires us, or simply makes life more beautiful.
And if I were to measure my antique desk in terms of true worth, I’d say it’s priceless. Because what it gave me cannot be bought — the peace of mind, the joy of expression, and the comfort of having a space that feels like home to my thoughts.
So yes, my dear friends, this was the most expensive personal item I ever purchased — but also the most rewarding one. In it, I didn’t just buy a desk. I bought a lifetime of words, memories, and inspiration.
Fascinated is probably not the right word, maybe more like ‘engrossed in’ would do it and I’m talking about World War 2 and the Holocaust.
I first learned about the Holocaust when I read The Diary of Anne Frank in about grade 5 or 6. It didn’t make sense to me at the time though. I could not understand why they were hiding and just how the logistics of it worked.
I love reading books and watching movies about WW2 or the holocaust. It still blows me away that all of it actually happened.
Just recently I watched the Ed Gein story on Netflix. There were references to the Witch of Buchenwald, Ilse Koch, who was married to a German officer who made lampshades and other furniture from the skin of Jewish people. It was so gory and disgusting. It’s unbelievable how those crimes were allowed to take place.
I realize that war crimes and genocide are still, unfortunately, taking place today. Again, it’s unbelievable to me. How people can treat people.
We’re now rapidly approaching the end of my first roll of Kodacolor 100 shot on my Pentax K-1000 with 100mm lens.
And I am rapidly approaching the realization that I haven’t even dropped off my next roll of film to be developed, so I’m going to have to stretch this series out.
So only two pictures this time.
I was still keen on taking some macro photos, but my experience with the previous images left me looking for a subject a little more … stable.
And while a strong wind can certainly rattle and sway my gate, the light breeze currently cursing me couldn’t.
At last, I can safely go for a longer exposure! Did I nail it? f8, 1/15sec, extension tube #1
I like that, from the angle I took this photo, the head of the nail and the shadow of the head of the nail are in focus, but the rest isn’t. I didn’t even try for that! And I should have, dammit!
Next time, Gadget, next time…
I decided to meet the challenge of framing this photo … head on. f8, 1/15sec, extension tube #1
I only took two pictures. Even I realized this nail wasn’t going to make an exciting series for this blog.
Maybe for some abstract, nihilist German photography zine where they spell “photography” with a capital “F”, but not for the discriminating folks here!
Or am I thinking too small? Maybe I should try and make a compelling series of shots of a nail sticking out of a plank of wood.
Repeat prompt. Moving on to something more fun, hopefully .
An apt question for the day.
I don’t know much about Halloween, except what I’ve seen in movies or all the pictures floating around. From what I gather, it’s a celebration of the dead – people dress up, attend parties, go trick-or-treating… and then there’s the pumpkin. I’ve never really understood the pumpkin part.
Movies portray Halloween as a night of horror, killings and chaos, almost like an apocalypse of dying itself, if that makes sense. The makeup, though, I’ll admit, is frighteningly creative and realistic. Still, I’ve never been fond of gore or horror; it creeps me out. My mind has a way of holding on to every disturbing image and replaying it in new ways. Oddly enough, I do enjoy thrillers, maybe that’s the psychological mess in me. Add special effects to the mix, and Halloween could easily cause insomnia.
But I can’t help wondering, like I always do, since I have nothing better to do – can Halloween beat real life?
Whether we call it reality or humanity, it feels like the world has gone bonkers with every passing year. The atrocities and human depravity we witness daily are endless. News and social media are filled with stories of crime after crime. We wage wars for the flimsiest reasons, and justify them too. We dehumanize others as if it’s our right. We scam and steal. We pillage, ruin and destroy whatever is good. We plot and scheme for another’s downfall. We abuse, buy and sell people like commodities.
We waste food while millions die of hunger. We hoard and show off rather than share. And somehow, when someone’s drowning, we film instead of helping.
Our actions could put any horror movie to shame. Sometimes, I wonder if even the devil feels wrongly accused, blamed for deeds he had no hand in.
What’s disturbing is how we are untouched by tragedy. We scroll past it with the same indifference we skip an ad. Horror has become entertainment, and empathy, optional.
We’re fascinated with Halloween because it mirrors who we are. On Halloween, we wear masks for a night. In real life, we wear them every day. We’ve mastered the art of disguise without the costume.
Moreover, Halloween is fun and screaming laughter. Life is more screaming and less laughing.
Yet the paradox of being human is this – amidst all the madness, small lights still flicker. Random acts of kindness, courage, and compassion quietly unfold away from the noise and headlines. And maybe it’s these seemingly insignificant acts that keep humanity from becoming its own horror story.
Halloween may have all the creativity, costumes, and gore, but it’s no match for the bland, brutal reality that life reveals to us daily.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. As the month of October draws to a close, I find myself reflecting on how far I have come on my painting journey.
This month has been truly special—a time of creativity, consistency, and quiet self-discovery.
What began as a casual hobby has gradually transformed into a deep source of joy and self-expression.
Through my YouTube channel, retiredkalam.com, I’ve had the privilege of sharing my artworks with fellow art lovers who motivate me every day with their kind words and encouragement.
Over time, painting has become much more than just a pastime—it’s a way for me to explore new ideas, emotions, and the beauty of life itself.
Starting a painting is always exciting.
The blank canvas waits eagerly, full of endless possibilities. Yet, as every artist knows, staying consistent day after day is the real challenge.
Excitement alone cannot carry you through every brushstroke. There are days of doubt, distractions, and the familiar tug of life’s many other demands.
But I’ve come to realize that consistency is the heartbeat of artistic growth. Each stroke I lay down brings me one step closer to mastering my craft.
A milestone of 2025
So far in 2025, I’ve completed 35 paintings—a milestone that fills me with pride and gratitude. My goal for the year is 51 paintings, so the road ahead is still open and inviting.
I usually paint more on weekends when time allows, but the rhythm varies. What truly matters is showing up for my art—because each creation teaches me something new about both my work and myself.
The journey may be slow, but it is richly rewarding.
Sharing my paintings publicly has added a beautiful dimension to this process. The warmth, feedback, and appreciation from my YouTube viewers inspire me to keep experimenting with different styles and techniques.
More importantly, this creative exchange has turned my once-solitary painting sessions into a shared celebration of learning and self-expression. It has become a vibrant community experience, where art connects hearts across boundaries.
For me, painting is not just about producing a finished piece—it’s about the meditative joy hidden in the process itself.
When brush meets canvas, it becomes a dialogue between my thoughts and the colors. Some artworks burst forth effortlessly, full of energy and spontaneity; others evolve slowly, revealing layers of emotion over time.
Each piece carries a fragment of my story—my moods, dreams, and evolving artistic voice.
Reflecting on this journey,
I’ve come to understand that consistency is built on more than mere motivation. It requires commitment, planning, and patience. Setting realistic goals and dedicating specific hours to painting have helped me stay on course.
Simple steps like maintaining my workspace and preparing materials in advance make a big difference. Structure, I’ve learned, does not limit creativity—it sustains it.
As any artist knows, imperfection is part of the process. Some days the paint flows effortlessly, while on others, every stroke feels like a struggle.
But even those tough days carry lessons. Every small effort contributes to a larger tapestry of progress.
When I feel overwhelmed or creatively blocked, I remind myself of how far I’ve come and how much joy this path continues to bring me. That perspective rekindles the flame.
Art has taught me about Resilience
Art has taught me not only about colors and composition, but also about resilience and self-awareness.
The more I paint, the more I appreciate that an artist’s voice is never static—it evolves continuously through experience, practice, and curiosity.
My channel, retiredkalam.com, serves as a living chronicle of that evolution, capturing milestones, experiments, and personal reflections that shape my growth as an artist.
Looking forward, I’m excited to continue nurturing this passion with the same enthusiasm and discipline.
I hope to explore new mediums—perhaps acrylics, textures, or mixed media—while keeping alive the consistency that defines my style. I want my art to reflect both stability and curiosity, much like life itself: balanced, yet full of wonder.
To everyone embarking on their own creative path, I have one heartfelt message:
cherish every artwork you create. Don’t measure it by perfection or popularity. Each painting, big or small, is proof of your courage and your willingness to keep showing up for your art.
Whether you paint daily or occasionally, what matters most is that you keep moving forward—driven by the joy, peace, and learning that creativity brings.
My colorful journey,
As I look back on this colorful journey, I realize that “Me and My Paintings” is more than just a title—it’s an intimate statement about my evolving bond with art.
Painting has given me solace, purpose, and a beautiful rhythm of expression that enriches every aspect of my life. Each brushstroke is a conversation, each canvas a step toward self-discovery.
With gratitude in my heart and colors at my fingertips, I look ahead with renewed inspiration—to dream bigger, explore deeper, and create with joy.
To all my fellow dreamers and creators: may the colors of your imagination always shine bright.
Happy creating, and may every canvas you touch bring you closer to your artistic soul.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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What’s something you believe everyone should know.
Of course, a repeat. But some questions are worth the repetition – minds change and thoughts evolve.
I’d say, how to mind your own business, and that what others think about you is none of your business.
Now, for the serious part. Every morning, I’ve been doing this meditation. Unfortunately, I’m still light-years away from enlightenment or quieting the mind – but I show up, I persevere. There are days when my mind quiets for a moment, when I feel the rise and fall of my chest and the rhythm of my heart, but there are more days when my mind wanders on its own tangent.
Part of this meditation is to name the feeling in that moment. That’s another struggle; I often don’t know what I feel, so I’m unable to name it.
This feeling thing is complicated. The world today is more aware and knowledgeable. It’s open to learning and discovering; especially about ourselves, our nature, and what makes us tick. People aren’t afraid to speak up and advocate for themselves. We talk about holding space, being safe spaces for each other, accountability, boundaries, and all the other values that help us live intentionally, purposefully, and more compassionately.
However, there’s also a whole world like mine, people who grew up with a very different kind of upbringing. To be fair, the tough love we received made us resilient, and in many ways, amiable. Amiable in the sense that we don’t get offended easily and we know when something’s just a joke. We’d have friendly banters, and no one saw offensiveness, discrimination, or racism in every comment. We didn’t return home to analyze what our friends said. We made fun of each other, laughed, and moved on. So, I won’t apologize for that part.
But the challenge we face today is understanding how feelings work. We were taught not to cry or be sad, to hide our hurt, to suppress anything considered “negative.” Crying was seen as weakness. Girls could cry, but not boys. And when we did cry, we were told we were being babies. We didn’t know what grief truly meant or that we must mourn our loss. Mourning is like closing a chapter – a way to heal and move forward not with bitterness or regret, but with gratitude for the lesson and for the part of life that shaped us. We cried when someone passed away, but we never sat with those feelings afterwards. We bottled them up until they blended into the fabric of our being. When something hurt, we were told to “get over it” or “snap out of it.” There was no space for vulnerability. We learned how to bounce back quickly, or at least pretend to. And we certainly never talked about emotions.
But can we really blame our parents, when they too were navigating their own unspoken pain? They raised us the way they were raised. And when a family is already broken or unstable, those unhealed patterns only deepen, passed down like invisible heirlooms until someone becomes aware enough and decides the cycle must stop. Healing doesn’t happen overnight, but awareness begins the process. A new pattern is born, and the generation that follows receives a little more light than the one before.
I sometimes wonder if the world feels so fractured today because many of us carry unresolved wounds we’ve never truly recognized or acknowledged. When we encounter another hurt person, we often see a reflection of our own pain. And instead of seeking healing, we sometimes respond from that hurt – projecting, defending, or lashing out, creating a ripple of pain that keeps moving through us all.
Would global politics look different if we had leaders who were emotionally intelligent – people deeply aware of their own flaws, leading with responsibility rather than reactivity? Perhaps the world wouldn’t be so divided if more of us, especially those in power, understood that unhealed emotions can shape nations just as much as they shape individuals.
I’m not sure I answered the prompt, but perhaps what everyone should know is this; how to understand our emotions. They shape who we are, influence what we do, and guide how we connect with one another. Maybe if we understood our emotions better, we’d be more equipped to handle this life, and maybe, just maybe, human relationships wouldn’t feel so complicated or destructive.
Or maybe I should just take my own advice – to mind my own business while I continue pretending to meditate and learn to name my feelings, somewhere between wandering thoughts and enlightenment .
Today’s writing prompt—“Is there an age or year of your life you would re-live?”—took me on a nostalgic stroll down memory lane.
While we cannot turn back the clock, reflecting on the years that shaped us offers profound insights into who we have become and where life has brought us.
For me, two chapters stand out vividly—my early 30s, a time of transformation and discovery, and the past three and a half years, which marked the beginning of my blogging journey.
Both periods, though separated by decades, share one thing in common: they helped me grow, evolve, and rediscover purpose.
The Transformative 30s: Lessons in Change and Resilience
My early 30s were a defining time—both personally and professionally. It was during this phase that I transitioned from the familiar world of banking to a remote posting in the quiet, picturesque village of Reodar, Rajasthan.
At first, it felt like a daunting change—leaving behind city life for a small, rural town. But what seemed like a challenge soon revealed itself to be one of life’s greatest blessings.
Reodar, with its serene landscapes and kind-hearted people, became my teacher.
The simplicity of village life taught me lessons that no textbook ever could—patience, humility, and resilience. Each sunrise carried a quiet promise, and each conversation with the villagers was a reminder of life’s true essence: gratitude and contentment.
Those years helped me understand that growth often happens in silence. Transformation doesn’t always roar; sometimes it whispers gently through everyday experiences.
The Power of Human Connection
That chapter of my life was also defined by deep and meaningful relationships—with family, friends, and colleagues.
I still remember the laughter-filled evenings, the heartfelt conversations that stretched into the night, and the unspoken understanding that true friendship brings. These connections became my anchor, providing strength and warmth during moments of uncertainty.
Through them, I learned that human connection is life’s greatest gift. The bonds we form along the way are the real treasures we carry forward, far more valuable than any material success.
Embracing Change and Creativity
My early 30s also marked the dawn of my creative side. It was during this time that I first began to write and paint—not as a profession, but as a quiet act of expression.
These creative pursuits became my sanctuary. Writing helped me reflect, while painting gave my emotions color and form.
Slowly, I realized that creativity wasn’t just an escape—it was a way to stay grounded, to stay alive to the beauty of the moment.
Change and creativity, I discovered, go hand in hand. When we open ourselves to new experiences, we also open ourselves to new forms of expression.
A New Beginning: My Blogging Journey
Fast-forward to three and a half years ago, when I stepped into yet another transformative phase—blogging.
When I started, I saw it merely as a pastime—a way to spend time meaningfully after retirement. I never imagined it would become such an integral part of my life.
But with every post I wrote, I felt something awaken within me. Writing turned into reflection; reflection turned into passion.
What began as a hobby soon became a way of life—a window to share thoughts, ideas, experiences, and emotions with readers across the world. Through blogging, I discovered not just my love for writing but also a deep sense of purpose.
And perhaps the most beautiful part of this journey has been connection—the joy of engaging with readers who share their stories, insights, and encouragement.
Each comment, each kind word, fuels the creative flame. It’s a reminder that storytelling is never one-sided—it’s a dialogue of hearts.
If I Could Re-Live Those Years…
If given the chance to re-live a period of my life, I would revisit both these times—my early 30s and my blogging years.
My 30s were a time of outer discovery—learning from the world around me. My blogging years have been a time of inner discovery—learning from the world within me.
Both chapters are priceless. They taught me resilience, gratitude, adaptability, and the power of reinvention.
If I could go back, I’d savor every sunrise in Reodar, every heartfelt friendship, every late-night writing session— and the thrill of seeing my words connect with a stranger across the globe.
Yet, I wouldn’t change a single thing. Because those experiences—both the challenges and the triumphs—have shaped who I am today.
Looking Forward with Gratitude
Today, as I write this, I feel immense gratitude—for the years that shaped me, for the lessons that strengthened me, and for the passion that continues to light my way.
Blogging has become more than a pastime; it’s a reflection of life itself—a journey of self-expression, connection, and continual growth.
So, to answer the prompt—yes, there are years I would love to re-live. But perhaps what truly matters is that those years still live within me, inspiring every word I write, every story I tell, and every connection I cherish.
Here’s to embracing every phase of life with curiosity, creativity, and gratitude—because the best years are not behind us, but within us, waiting to be rediscovered.
Thank you, my friends, for reading and being a part of this beautiful journey. Your presence, encouragement, and shared reflections continue to make this creative path more meaningful.
Let’s keep writing, dreaming, and growing—together.
Would you like me to add a short author’s note or closing quote (like a signature line) at the end—for example:
“Writing is not just sharing what you’ve lived; it’s reliving it with gratitude.” — (Vijay Verma)
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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In the end What remains Are unspoken words Unwritten Unvoiced thoughts Drifting in the wind Unlived dreams, floating into the ether Paths untrodden, fading into yesterday Plans undone Memories half-lived, half-forgotten Promises paused mid-breath Footprints fading before they’re formed Moments unclaimed Time unredeemed Hands reaching for what’s no longer there, Heart learning the art of letting go.
A quiet reflection on fulfillment and longing, “What I’m Searching For?” explores the silence between having and wanting—the tender journey of finding meaning within oneself.
# What I’m Searching For ?
I have everything— yet my heart hums softly with the fear of losing it.
My shelves are full, lined with the shapes of dreams— still waiting to breathe, to wake, to live again.
Something stirs within me, a thirst I cannot name, a silence that gently unravels the edges of my laughter.
What is it that I’ve lost? A dream left behind? A whisper that once guided the stories I told myself?
Now I find meaning in the slow pulse of dawn, peace in the tender act of simply breathing.
I measure time not by what fades, but by all I have grown— roots that hold, moments that teach, soft truths my soul keeps.
Still, somewhere deep inside, an echo murmurs faintly— a connection unseen, a memory unnamed, a heartbeat out of reach.
Yet I keep searching— for the beauty in small things, for courage to dream anew, to build not just a world around me, but one that blooms within me— the one I am still searching for.
My brain went to that part in Uncle Buck where he has to go see the principal at his niece’s school because she’s gotten in trouble. The principal called her a “silly heart” and made that sound like a bad thing. He, of course, sticks up for her and defends her by saying like hey, she’s a little kid, of course she’s silly.
Even when I was a kid and watched Uncle Buck for the first time, I loved that description of a child, silly heart.
We should all be more silly, goofy and take ourselves and the world less seriously. I think we’d all be happier.
Of course it’s not that simple. The adult world is much more complex than that of a child. But if only.
Here are the remaining photos from my first day of shooting Kodak Kodacolor 100.
All taken on my Pentax K-1000 and 100mm macro lens.
I was at a location with a community garden and livestock. This was a stretch between sets of animal pens. The subject matter isn’t exactly exciting, but I liked the lighting and color variation. f4, 1/125sec.
The bright sunlight made the spider webs on this barn positively shimmer, which I tried to capture. f5.6, 1/125sec.
Here the emulsion lets me down a bit. This is the same barn as the previous picture, which is red, not brown. Perhaps I overexposed it slightly? f8, 1/60sec
Here the color is correct. Maybe the brown color was due to the angle of the camera relative to the sun? I’ve taken pictures of this side of the barn before, but failed to produce an interesting image. I’m not sure I manage this time, either. f4, 1/125sec
What caught my attention when I took this shot were the bugs flying in front of the barn. They looked like perfect pinpoints of shimmering light swarming in the foreground. Sadly, in the photo, they are much less enticing short streaks. But I’m impressed by the latitude: look how much detail we can see inside the barn. f5.6, 1/60sec
Overall, I continue to really like this film. It makes me very excited to see how my Kodacolor 200 roll turns out.
Up next: back to macro, and some really intense colors.
And I have to be at work at a fixed time every day.
The combination of these two facts means that while I must walk Doggo at about the same time every morning, as winter progresses, it’s darker each time.
This means the visibility during our walks gets worse and worse with every passing day.
And by visibility, I mean our ability to see and be seen.
While it’s dark, the crows aren’t up.
The last couple of days, the number of crows we encountered on the walk was zero.
Zip.
Zilch.
Bupkis.
The end result of all this is that it doesn’t get light out in a meaningful way until I leave for work.
So the crows (well, my usual backyard two) have taken to waiting for me at the front of the house.
When I leave and when I get home at the end of the day.
What does it mean to be a kid at heart? Well, I’m glad that WP recycles ideas, but honestly, we need a break too! To be a kid is to live without worrying about finances, taxes, and, most importantly, what to cook and eat. Cooking and eating are serious sources of worry.
Now, on to my own prompt – He said, she heard (and vice versa). This is next-level communication and entertainment. I’m sure we all have our moments of selective hearing and interpretation. Personally, I wish I could remember all the funny ones, but as you know, my memory comes alive only when I don’t need it to.
A regular misheard moment in my house happens on days my husband is home. The question is simple: Who’s making coffee today? He’ll say, “You’re making coffee.” And all I hear is, “Coffee.”
One treasured (and slightly embarrassing) memory dates back to my first pregnancy. I was craving a very specific kind of bread – hard, brown, crunchy on the outside, but soft and warm inside. Eaten freshly baked is perfectly satisfying the cravings. My husband came back with something entirely different, nothing like what I wanted. And suddenly my pregnancy hormones betrayed me, I sat there eating it quietly while tears rolled down. I actually cried over bread.
Then there’s the timeless debate; When do we leave? My husband gives a very specific time. I, on the other hand, believe that a few extra winks won’t hurt and we can still make it. The result? Chaotic compromise. At this point, I’m starting to believe teleportation isn’t such a bad idea.
Another one is cleaning. Certain things require time and physical investment to clean. I’ve become an expert at saying, “I’ll clean it later.” What my husband hears is, “Between tomorrow and never.” And the later never comes.
One has to admit though, that misheard communication makes life brighter and better.
A child’s eyes are full of wonder when they see things around, especially animals for the first time. I can see how toddlers enjoy them and how they observe their moves. They love to wander outside, seeing nature, and I think that’s what adults forgot because most of us are chasing life in a fast-paced world. The goals and responsibilities become priorities that lead to burnout. Breathe, pause, and look around, and there’s joy in it.
Kuya’s new carabaoKuya’s roosterSisi and her chicksKid’s play timeEldest sister’s goats
When I have a screen break, it’s a time for family and pets. The animals are just around, waiting to entertain me. Their funny moves and pleading looks always made me smile. I think this is what I call “kid at heart”: enjoying the simple things around.
I’m grateful for it. Thank you so much, my amazing readers. Enjoy the photos and videos. Happy Wednesday, and stay blessed. I’ll try to write a book review; hence, I’ll catch up later.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and with your imagination wide awake. Today’s writing prompt is truly intriguing — “What historical event fascinates you the most?”
Although I don’t study History, I understand that it isn’t just a record of events; it’s the living memory of humanity — our successes, our challenges, our growth, and our ongoing effort to understand ourselves.
There are countless events that shaped the world — from the dawn of civilization in Mesopotamia to the Renaissance that ignited the flame of human creativity, from revolutions that redefined nations to scientific breakthroughs that expanded our understanding of life and the cosmos.
But among them all, one event that deeply fascinates me is India’s Independence Movement — not merely as a political struggle, but as a moral and spiritual awakening that changed the course of human history.
The Birth of a Non-Violent Revolution
The fight for India’s independence was not just a clash of empires; it was a collision of ideologies — of force against faith, of oppression against resilience, of violence against peace.
What makes this historical journey so captivating is that it was led not by soldiers with swords but by ordinary people armed with truth and courage.
Under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi, India’s struggle became a global lesson in the power of non-violence (ahimsa) and civil disobedience (satyagraha).
Gandhi’s philosophy wasn’t limited to political freedom; it aimed at transforming the human spirit. He believed that the strength of a nation lies not in weapons but in the purity of its conscience.
Imagine the sheer magnitude of that vision — millions of unarmed men and women marching, spinning, fasting, and enduring imprisonment, yet refusing to raise a hand in retaliation.
The Salt March of 1930, for example, was more than a protest against an unfair tax; it was a symbolic act of reclaiming dignity. Each grain of salt became a grain of courage.
A Movement of the Mind and Heart
What fascinates me most about this event is its emotional and intellectual depth. It wasn’t just a national awakening; it was a philosophical experiment.
The independence movement redefined how the world perceived power. It taught that moral authority can be stronger than military might, and that unity born out of compassion can defeat the most entrenched empire.
When we study revolutions across the globe, we often see violence, revenge, and division. But in India’s case, the revolution was inward as much as outward. It asked people to conquer fear, hatred, and greed within themselves before conquering their external oppressors.
This transformation gave rise to a sense of collective soul — a realization that freedom is not granted; it is earned by the strength of our convictions.
The movement inspired other global leaders — Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, and many others who later adapted Gandhi’s principles in their own struggles for justice.
Thus, the Indian Independence Movement became a universal lesson in human dignity.
The Silent Heroes and Forgotten Voices
Beyond the political headlines and iconic figures, what also moves me are the countless unsung heroes — the women who spun khadi to boycott British goods, the farmers who refused to yield their crops to colonial taxes,
And the students who wrote pamphlets by candlelight. Each of them added a verse to the song of freedom.
The movement was not merely about independence from foreign rule; it was also about independence from fear, ignorance, and inequality.
Leaders like Jawaharlal Nehru, Sardar Patel, Subhas Chandra Bose, and Sarojini Naidu all brought their unique strengths, visions, and sacrifices, creating a mosaic of courage that united a diverse nation.
Every protest, every prison sentence, every slogan shouted in defiance carried within it a moral heartbeat — a reminder that justice delayed is never justice denied when hope burns strong.
The Lessons That Still Echo Today
The reason this historical event continues to fascinate me is because its lessons are timeless.
In an era where conflict, division, and intolerance often dominate the headlines, Gandhi’s message feels more relevant than ever: “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”
The independence movement teaches us that real change begins with individual transformation. It tells us that peace is not the absence of struggle, but the mastery of it through compassion and wisdom.
It reminds us that truth, once awakened, can never be enslaved again.
Today, as we face global challenges such as climate change, inequality, and social unrest, perhaps we need to rediscover that same inner strength — the courage to resist injustice peacefully, the patience to engage in dialogue rather than division, and the humility to serve rather than dominate.
My Final Submission
So, what historical event fascinates me the most? Without doubt, it is India’s journey to freedom — the greatest non-violent revolution the world has ever known.
It fascinates me not just because it changed the destiny of a nation, but because it redefined the destiny of humankind. It showed that the truest victories are not won by might, but by moral clarity and unity of purpose.
History may record 15 August 1947 as the day India became free. But for me, the real victory was in the awakening of the human conscience — a light that continues to guide us, even today.
“When truth walks barefoot, even empires tremble.”
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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We die to each other daily. What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same is a useful and convenient social convention which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember that at every meeting we are meeting a stranger. ~T.S. Eliot
I’m not familiar with the whole Aladdin, genie in a bottle story so I’m not sure which types of wishes one can ask for.
If I am allowed big, big wishes then I’d ask that the community where Sid originally came from, would be rid of all it’s addiction issues and social problems. Oh and also a year round road for them in and out of the community.
The residents would have job opportunities, nice houses, and plenty of clean drinking water.
The kids would all be happy, healthy and thriving.
I’m going to take care of Sid for forever but who’s going to take care of his community? It’s kind of in dire straits.
I’d use all three of my wishes for this.
It’s very rare that we get through Halloween without snow, fingers crossed!
I was stunned when I found out Kodacolor had dropped.
I was in my local photo lab, picking up some film, when the clerk asked if I’d heard about it.
I hadn’t. Kodak had announced it literally the day before, and, having come straight from work and not watching videos while I’m working, I hadn’t seen any of my usual photography videos on YouTube yet.
So I was shocked and surprised, not to mention disappointed to learn they didn’t have any yet.
Fast forward a couple of weeks, and I was back in the photo lab (I don’t have a problem! I can quit any time I want to!), and now they had the film in stock. ISO 100 and 200.
I bought one of each.
This set of articles is about my Kodacolor 100 results. I just finished my roll of 200 today (well, time of writing today – this will come out a few days later), about five minutes after my local photo lab closes.
I took a chance when I loaded the 100 into my K-1000. The weather is starting to turn, the skies are more prone to being overcast, and it was an open question whether 100 would be a handicap or a boon.
I got lucky. The skies were mostly clear and sunny when I was shooting with this roll.
All pictures taken with my 100mm lens.
I’m very pleased with this shot. Maybe the focus isn’t perfect, but the contrast and the bright yellow make me very happy. f4, 1/60sec, extension tubes 1 and 3.
I’m a lot less happy about this one. It was breezy and I was shooting handheld with extension tubes, and wouldn’t you know it, I blew the focus. Despite my attempt to avoid doing just that by going to f8. But the lesson? Handheld with extension tubes is not a great idea if you can avoid it. In this case, a tripod would have been impractical, and, in fact, rude. 1/60sec, extension tubes 1 and 3.
I knew the breeze and shooting handheld was going to cause issues, so I dropped the extension tubes for this shot. f6.8, 1/60sec.
The macro photos of low-lying flowers were playing merry hell with my knees, so I decided to give them a break and take some shots where I didn’t have to kneel. f5.6, 1/250sec. These sunflowers were behind a wire fence, which you can almost see in this shot.
The wire fencing is slightly more visible (in the upper left) in this shot. I stopped down the aperture half a step to try and resolve it. And if you look carefully at the foreground flower near the center, you can just make out a bee. f6.8, 1/125sec.
I love the results I got here with this film.
The color reproduction is excellent, the film isn’t grainy, and it has a lot of latitude.
The only disappointments I have so far are my own damn fault, like the poor focus in the second photo.
You have three magic genie wishes, what are you asking for?
This question made me think of world peace – a response many contestants in beauty pageants would parrot before joining the movie industry . Of course, that was then. Nowadays, I’ve no clue what happens in those pageants.
But wait, we still have genies in this century? I thought they existed only in ancient times.
To play along, let’s say there are genies today.
We live in such a hectic world that even the genie must be exhausted sometimes. Imagine the number of wishes it has to grant, that too, bland and predictable ones. People today live more on wishful thinking than actual living. With that kind of exhaustion, you can’t blame the genie for taking a day, or even a month off. Ever wondered if the genie might think, “People are selfish, always asking for their wishes, but never asking about me?”
Or what if the genie simply refused to grant wishes, instead asking us to learn to live without them? Maybe then we’d truly live – finding contentment in the life we’re shaping. It may not be what we dream of or aspire toward, but it’s our life, and it’s up to us to create rainbows out of the colors we’re given. Some may be dull or dark, but that doesn’t mean we can’t re-shape, re-make, or add new hues to brighten and radiate the light within.
Our paths may be paved with pain and littered with tears, but they lead to self-discovery and growth.
Nevertheless, if the genie is around and still granting wishes, I’d say, please help me with the dishes and laundry. And don’t forget the coffee, magically appearing, always ready . These better be lifelong wishes, not limited editions. Anything limited is not entertained.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective mood. Today, I came across a deceptively simple question that stopped me in my tracks: “Do you need time?”
At first glance, it seems almost trivial. Of course, we all need time—there are deadlines to meet, appointments to keep, and tasks piling up in every corner of our lives.
But the question is deeper, more nuanced, and demands introspection: What kind of time do we truly need, and for what purpose?
In our fast-paced world, the notion of “time” has become almost transactional. We track it in hours, minutes, and seconds, always measuring, always calculating.
Yet, ironically, despite being so obsessed with time, we often find ourselves wishing we had more of it.
We all want time to pursue our passions,
We want time to rest, time to pursue our passions, time to connect with loved ones, and even time to rediscover ourselves. It seems that while time is constant and relentless, our ability to manage it is ever so fragile.
The first reason we need time is for personal growth.
Every skill we acquire, every habit we cultivate, and every goal we pursue requires patience.
Learning a new language, mastering a musical instrument, or nurturing a creative talent cannot happen overnight. Each of these achievements demands time—a gradual accumulation of effort, trial, and error.
Without allowing ourselves that temporal space, we risk stunting our potential. Life, in essence, is a series of lessons, and time is the teacher that allows these lessons to unfold naturally.
We all want time to heal and reflect
Second, we need time to heal and reflect. Emotional wounds, disappointments, and failures are inevitable parts of life.
Yet, the human spirit is remarkably resilient, capable of recovering and even flourishing after hardship.
This resilience, however, cannot be forced—it emerges only when we grant ourselves the time to process, grieve, forgive, and learn.
Reflection, too, is a luxury in our age of constant distraction. It is in the quiet moments, when we step back from the noise of daily life, that we gain clarity and perspective.
Time allows us to connect the dots of our experiences and understand not just what we have been through, but why we have been through it.
Time is also crucial for relationships.
Yes, time is also crucial for a relationship. In our pursuit of professional success or personal achievement, it’s easy to overlook the most fundamental aspect of human existence: connection.
Deep, meaningful relationships do not thrive on fleeting interactions. They grow slowly, nurtured by shared experiences, empathy, and trust.
A phone call, a walk in the park, or a simple conversation over tea—these seemingly small gestures take time, but they are the glue that binds hearts together.
In a world obsessed with speed and efficiency, taking time for people is an act of love, patience, and humanity.
Time is essential for creativity and inspiration
Moreover, time is essential for creativity and inspiration. Innovation rarely strikes like a lightning bolt; it often simmers quietly beneath the surface.
Time allows ideas to percolate, merge, and transform into something tangible.
Writers, artists, thinkers, and scientists all understand that great work emerges not from urgency, but from immersion, contemplation, and the slow unfolding of thought.
By giving ourselves time, we cultivate a space where imagination can roam freely, and where brilliance has the opportunity to blossom.
Finally, we need time simply to live—to experience the present moment fully. In our quest for the next goal or milestone, we often forget the beauty of the here and now.
Sunsets, laughter, a child’s curiosity, or a quiet cup of coffee—these moments are fleeting, and they cannot be rushed.
Time gives us the permission to savor life, to pause, and to appreciate the small joys that are often overshadowed by our ambitions and worries.
So, do we need time?
Absolutely. But perhaps the question is not just whether we need time, but whether we are willing to honor it.
Time is not merely a resource to be managed; it is a gift to be cherished. It is both a canvas and a companion, shaping who we are and who we become.
By valuing our time, by giving ourselves the space to grow, heal, create, connect, and simply be, we embrace life in its fullest sense.
My Final Submission
Yes, time is the quiet architect of our lives. It molds our character, deepens our understanding, and enriches our experiences.
The next time someone asks, “Do you need time?” remember that the answer is not about counting hours, but about living meaningfully. Take time for yourself, take time for others, and most importantly, take time to truly exist.
For in the end, life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away—and those moments are born from the gift of time. Is it not?
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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You have three magic genie wishes, what are you asking for?
Photo credit: youngest sister
I’ve read this question first at 4 in the morning, and my answer would be wisdom, healing, and inner joy for all.
Every day, I pray for wisdom to navigate the vicissitudes of life. I know some basic knowledge of some things, but wisdom is far better than that. I recite the serenity prayer every dawn minutes after I wake up, including some hopes and other prayers.
Eldest sister
The complete healing of my nephew is one of my prayers since he has been treated for the past eight months, and he is still undergoing ten sessions of chemotherapy that will certainly last for a couple of months, staying in the hospital back and forth. I’ve heard that my brother-in-law reached out to my third eldest sister privately, expressing his contemplation since we send them assistance as much as we can from time to time. A family will help each other, and that’s what we are doing.
Photo credit: 4th sister
I also want to wish to the genie that I want inner joy for all the people in the world despite any life situations they are facing. My first two wishes (wisdom and healing) will be for all, too.
Thank you so much for reading, listening, and watching, my amazing readers. I wish you a joyful week like these children playing.
Where Faith Touches the Horizon of Light
Hello dear friends,
As the soft golden light of dawn touches the eastern sky, millions of hearts across India prepare for one of the most soulful festivals of faith and purity — Chhath Puja.
It is more than a ritual. It is a moment when humanity bows before nature, when devotion finds expression not in words but in silence, endurance, and light.
This year, Chhath Puja will be celebrated from October 25th to October 28th, 2025 — four sacred days filled with fasting, prayers, and gratitude to Surya Dev (the Sun God) and Chhathi Maiya (Goddess Shashthi).
A Festival Rooted in Light and Discipline
Originating in Bihar, Jharkhand, and eastern Uttar Pradesh, Chhath Puja has now transcended regions and languages.
It unites people through simplicity and sincerity. Wherever you find water and sunlight, you will find the essence of Chhath.
The word Chhath comes from Shashthi — the sixth day after Diwali. Devotees worship the Sun, the eternal giver of energy and life, and his divine consort Usha, the goddess of dawn, who awakens the world with light and hope.
Legends That Illuminate Its Origin
Ancient scriptures tell us that Chhath Puja was first observed in gratitude to the Sun God when life began to flourish on Earth. The Brahma Vaivarta Purana mentions Shashthi Devi, the motherly protector of children, as an embodiment of this divine power.
In the Ramayana, after returning from exile, Lord Rama and Sita offered prayers to Surya Dev to express their thankfulness.
And in the Mahabharata, Karna, the radiant son of the Sun God, is said to have performed this worship, standing waist-deep in river water as he offered his reverence.
Through these stories runs a common truth — the festival celebrates gratitude, discipline, and the sacred connection between man and nature.
The Inner Meaning
Chhath is perhaps the most disciplined and spiritually demanding festival of all. There is no idol worship, no priestly rituals — only faith, purity, and surrender. It is about renouncing comfort to experience clarity, about learning that the greatest offering is a pure heart.
In the simple act of standing before the Sun with folded hands, there lies an entire philosophy — that we are nourished not just by sunlight, but by humility, patience, and gratitude.
The setting Sun is worshipped first — a beautiful reminder that endings deserve reverence too.
And when the rising Sun is greeted the next morning, it symbolizes the unbroken circle of life — where faith never truly sets.
The Four Days of Devotion
Nahay-Khay (The Day of Purification): Devotees begin by bathing in a river or pond and eating a single pure meal — usually rice, bottle gourd, and chana dal — cooked in a sanctified space. It marks the cleansing of body and soul.
Kharna (The Day of Fasting and Offering): The second day is one of complete fasting without water, from sunrise to sunset. At night, the fast is broken with gur ki kheer, roti, and fruits, shared with family members.
Sandhya Arghya (Evening Offering): As twilight descends, devotees gather on riverbanks or near water bodies to offer Arghya to the setting Sun.
The sight is breathtaking — women dressed in saffron and red sarees, holding bamboo baskets filled with fruits, sugarcane, and the fragrant Thekua. The air resonates with folk songs and the gentle sound of waves — devotion becomes melody.
Usha Arghya (Morning Offering): Before sunrise on the final day, devotees once again offer Arghya to the rising Sun. It is a sacred dialogue between the worshipper and creation itself — a prayer for health, peace, and harmony.
When the first rays of sunlight touch the water, and the reflection of folded hands meets the golden glow, something eternal awakens within.
This Year at Home
This year, I am fortunate to be in my hometown for Chhath Puja. Though in earlier years we celebrated by the river, this time a small sacred pond has been prepared at home.
The atmosphere is radiant — homes are cleaned, lamps are lit, and the fragrance of jaggery and ghee fills the air. Thekua — that humble, crisp, and divine sweet — is being made with love and shared with neighbors.
Even as rituals unfold, what truly binds the community is the spirit of togetherness — everyone contributes, from preparing offerings to decorating the ghat, to singing the age-old songs that echo through generations.
Beyond Rituals — A Philosophy of Living
Chhath teaches us the art of stillness. In a world rushing endlessly, it invites us to pause — to stand quietly, to breathe, and to feel the Sun’s warmth not only on our skin but within our hearts.
It reminds us that spirituality is not about renunciation of life, but reverence for it. Every offering made to the Sun is also an offering to our own inner light.
As the last Arghya is offered and the songs fade into morning, what remains is peace — deep, silent, luminous.
In Gratitude to the Light
In the end, Chhath Puja is not merely about worship; it is about awakening — to our connection with nature, to the rhythm of the universe, and to the divine light that dwells within us all.
May Surya Dev bless every heart with health and strength. May Chhathi Maiya shower her grace on every family. And may this festival remind us — always — to live with gratitude, humility, and love.
Happy Chhath Puja to all!
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I really enjoyed the original Phoenix, likely because of and not despite its limitations, and I was hoping Phoenix II would would still have quirky “shortcomings” that gave the photos character, but just a bit more subdued.
Today’s post will be more about color than anything else. I’ll be comparing the film shots to digital pictures taken immediately after.
I used my trusty dusty Pentax K-1000 with 100mm macro lens for the Phoenix, and my Pentax K10D with a 50mm prime lens for the digital.
Because these pictures were taken fast and during an event, I didn’t record the exposure settings. I relied on the camera metering, with ISO set to 160 in the case of Phoenix II and an ISO setting of 200 for the K10D.
One key difference between these pictures and yesterdays? Bright sunlight and no shade.
Phoenix II. Is that a hint of halation I’m seeing in the color bleed? Maybe bright sunlight is the secret there!
This should give you a better idea of the colors I was seeing. The digital image colors are a tad more vivid than reality, but the Phoenix is, as with yesterday, a tad more muddy…
Phoenix II. I think the colors are better in bright sunlight versus shade, but still a bit muted and in this case, leaning orange. The photo also feels softer and more … analog … than the digital image.
The digital colors are more true to life. In most cases, that would be considered an advantage, though I can imagine use cases where you would want and prefer the muted tones of Phoenix II.
I really think I was led astray by the recommendation to overexpose by a full stop and glad I stuck with 160 instead of 100. The highlights are just on the verge of overexposed. The red of her armor is more a dusty red than reality, though I quite like it.
Again, digital colors are more true to life. Ironically, the digital camera metering also led to the highlights being blown out. Maybe it isn’t the Phoenix after all?
No, it’s the Phoenix. Here we have full blown halation. And I’m sure her dress was actually green, not blue…
Phoenix II. I swear, this wasn’t taken at sunset. In addition to the halation, the color is leaning into brown! Though as with the dusty red earlier, I like it. It gives the photo an earthy, gritty, almost antique feel.
The digital image just lacks character. It’s OK, the colors are fairly accurate, but it seems flatter compared to the shifted palette of the Phoenix II.
I think in bright sunlight, the Phoenix II fairs better than in the shade.
You look at those photos and definitely think, “Oh yeah, these were taken on film.”
And I definitely prefer them to the digital pictures.
But I’m not sure I’ll shoot 35mm Phoenix II again. Like the original Phoenix, the smaller form factor of 35mm really highlights the shortcomings.
I haven’t shot the 120 yet. Instead, I got all excited about Kodak Kodacolor 100 and 200. In fact, the next photo series will be my Kodacolor 100 results. Spoiler alert: I like it.
This poem celebrates the everyday joys that fill life with warmth and meaning—sunshine, music, walks in nature, writing, books, art, and moments shared with loved ones.
In each simple pleasure, the poet finds solace and happiness, reminding us that genuine delight is found in small treasures and heartfelt moments.
What Makes Me Happy
The morning sun upon my face, A golden glow, a warm embrace. Soft rays that whisper, “Start anew,” And fill my soul with gentle hue.
Old songs that echo from the past, Their soulful melodies forever last. Rafi, Kishore, Mukesh & Lata’s tune, They lift my heart and make me swoon.
A quiet walk where trees stand tall, The birds that sing, the flowers’ call. In nature’s arms, my worries cease, And in that stillness, I find the peace.
The words I write, my thoughts set free, In my poems, I find the real me. Each rhyme a kiss, each thought a prayer, That is my tender joy beyond compare
A book that teaches, inspires, or heals, Its pages open, its wisdom reveals. A canvas bright with colors bold, In every stroke, my story is told.
A steaming cup of morning tea, A sacred pause, just for me. And swimming laps in water clear, Each stroke a triumph, love, and cheer.
The rain that dances on the ground, It’s gentle music, soothing sound. That lifts my spirit above the sky. Each droplet keeps my desire to fly. ,
So simple joys, both big and small, They are treasures that I cherish all. Make my days both bright and free, These little things mean all to me.
Honestly, what an ambiguous question. Describe who exactly? The one we genuinely like, or the one we like a little too much? If I describe the good one, that’s favoritism. If I describe the not-so-nice one, I risk sounding overly critical. It’s a lose-lose either way.
Boring prompt. Moving on.
Why do I have to describe a family member? Why not ask if I can describe myself as a family member . Maybe I could pretend to describe myself through my family’s eyes .
This is tricky though. The one sure thing they’d all say is that I’m the unhinged nut . Beyond that, I have no clue what my siblings and everyone else think of me. I guess it’s better that way, I can live happily oblivious of everyone else’s opinions.
WP, you really need to come up with fresh prompts. I cannot keep exercising my brain, it also requires rest.
I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood, with a warm cup of tea by your side and a little curiosity in your heart.
Today’s writing prompt question — “What will your life be like in three years?” — is one that made me pause, smile, and dream a little.
It’s not just a question of time; it’s an invitation to imagine the person we’re becoming. Three years may sound like a blink, yet it holds the power to transform our lives in ways we can’t yet see.
The Subtle Magic of Three Years
Three years — 1,095 days, 26,280 hours — long enough to change jobs, start anew, heal, learn, grow, or even fall in love again.
Life, after all, is a series of seasons. Some arrive quietly; others sweep through like a storm, rearranging everything we thought was permanent.
When I look ahead to the next three years, I don’t see a perfect picture. Instead, I see a mosaic of hope, effort, and discovery — shaped by choices, colored by emotions, and guided by purpose.
Becoming the Best Version of Myself
If there’s one lesson the past has taught me, it’s that growth is not loud. It happens quietly — in small acts of patience, in the courage to begin again, in moments of stillness when we choose peace over noise.
Three years from now, I imagine a version of myself who’s a little wiser, a little calmer, and perhaps a little softer toward the world.
Someone who has learned to value presence over perfection, meaning over recognition, and peace over pressure.
I see mornings beginning with gratitude instead of rush, and evenings spent reflecting rather than scrolling.
The person I’ll be in three years is someone who has finally made peace with uncertainty — and learned to dance with it gracefully.
A Life Aligned with Purpose
Professionally, I hope my journey continues to revolve around creativity — writing, communicating, and building bridges through words.
Maybe by then, I’ll have my own collection of reflections published, or perhaps a blog community that connects dreamers and doers from around the world.
But more than milestones, I wish for meaning — to create words that comfort, stories that inspire, and ideas that spark hope.
Because success, to me, will not be counted in numbers or followers, but in the hearts I touch through my work.
Living Simply, Living Fully
In a world that glorifies “more,” I want to celebrate “enough.”
Three years from now, I hope to live more simply — with fewer possessions but richer experiences.
I picture myself surrounded by nature — maybe near a quiet hillside, or a window that opens to morning sunlight and birdsong.
There will be long walks, thoughtful books, handwritten notes, and moments of pure silence — the kind that refills the soul.
I’ll travel not to escape life, but to understand it better; to meet new people, new cultures, and new parts of myself.
Relationships that Nourish the Heart
I hope that in three years, my circle remains small but sincere — people who lift each other, who laugh together, and who listen without judgment.
I wish to spend more time with family, to say “thank you” more often, and to love with patience and honesty.
Because at the end of every dream, it’s the human connections that make the story worthwhile.
The laughter around the dinner table, the shared silence of understanding — these are the treasures I hope to carry into the future.
Peace Within
Beyond goals and plans, what I truly desire in three years is inner peace. – A heart that forgives easily. – A mind that knows how to rest. – A soul that finds beauty even in uncertainty.
Life may not always go as planned, but I wish to face it with grace — to meet challenges with courage, to learn from failures without self-blame, and to stay kind even when the world isn’t.
If I can look at myself three years from now and whisper, “You have lived truthfully, kindly, and fully,” I’ll know I’ve succeeded.
Creating the Future, One Day at a Time
Dreams don’t happen by chance; they unfold through choices we make every single day. To become that version of myself, I must start now — by being mindful, grateful, and brave enough to grow through what I go through.
Each sunrise brings a fresh canvas. Each sunset reminds me that I am evolving — quietly, beautifully, imperfectly.
My Final Submission
So, what will my life be like in three years? I hope it will be a tapestry woven with purpose, love, and peace.
A life where my dreams have found wings, my heart has found calm, and my words have found a home in others.
If life teaches me one thing by then, let it be this: Happiness is not a destination — it’s the way we walk.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I’ll jump on the walking is my favourite exercise bandwagon I guess. I’ve been a walker for years and come from a long line of walkers.
I do enjoy yoga just as much and used to really love lifting weights. I first joined the gym when I was seventeen and fell immediately in love with it.
Nowadays I don’t really have time to go to a gym but I do have some free weights downstairs and I’ve gotten into a good routine of working out in the morning early, before work.
I try and walk each evening as well.
I can’t think of much more to say, waiting til evening to post will do that to me. I seem to have used up all my brain power on the assignment I had to submit today for my Teaching for Learning course. One more week to go and it’s done.
I did something wild and crazy today, for the first time ever in my life I chose red (matte) nails at my nail appointment
It’s raining. October rain. A few more days and we could be singing November Rain. I’m not sure whether to be thankful or to grumble . This rain will make the weather hotter, but it’s also caused by a depression in the Arabian Sea – something completely out of anyone’s control.
The holidays are almost over, and school reopens in two days. Which also means the second-term exam is knocking, on our door, not Heaven’s Door. Where are these GNR song references coming from?
Yesterday, I was supposed to meet a friend for coffee, but she had to cancel last minute. Since I was already out, I decided to make the most of the unexpected me-time. It’s been years since I sat alone at a café, and I thought it might feel odd. Everywhere I looked, people had company. Yet I surprised myself by actually enjoying the solitude. I could’ve done some people-watching, but instead I read. After much dilly-dallying, I finally finished Nicholas K. F. Matte’s The Slumbering Monk. Quite a lot of philosophy there.
The little girl has been complaining of boredom lately. When I reminded her that her brother used to play by himself without complaining, she promptly replied, “The Alpha generation is different from Gen Z.”
She’s a little too bright sometimes.
She also made a very valid observation about Ariel, the mermaid – asking why Ariel wears starfish on her chest, since a starfish’s mouth is on the underside, if you know what that means . I didn’t even know that . “Disney has a lot of explaining to do,” she said. I couldn’t agree more.
These kids truly are the AI generation. To kill her boredom, she picked up her pencils and drew for a bit – and here they are.
I recently bought two rolls of the new Phoenix II film: one 35mm and one 120.
My experience with the previous version of Phoenix is that, for the most part, I liked it.
With the right composition, the narrow dynamic range and exaggerated colors provide a look and feel I really enjoy.
The graininess, however, is more of a mixed bag and why, when it comes to the original Phoenix, I prefer the 120 version.
So I’ve been very curious about the results I would get with the new version of Phoenix, a.k.a. Phoenix II.
For this set of images, we’ll be looking at the 35mm version of Phoenix II.
Today’s set of images are from a corporate park.
All of these shots were taken in shade, and lean green. I don’t know if that’s because of the film or the surrounding foliage. f8, 1/60th sec.
I wanted to smooth out the water with a long exposure, but was shooting handheld. So this ended up being f9.5, 1/30sec.
The recommendation with the original Phoenix was to shoot it at ISO 100, even though it’s rated 200. I was told I should do the same for this, but I decided to meter it at ISO 160 instead of 100. And I’m glad I did, as these images lean into overexposed territory.
Not terrible, but still distracting.
In this and the next image, I wanted to capture the sparkle of reflected sunlight on the water surface. I’d done that by accident with a shot from the original Phoenix and hoped to reproduce it here. I was disappointed. f8, 1/30sec
I tried a steeper angle to capture more of the water surface. I still didn’t get the effect I was hoping for. f5.6, 1/125sec
Here’s the Phoenix I halation I was trying to duplicate. Reviews said that Phoenix II had reduced it, which I greeted with dismay at the time. And it looks like the reports were true. Why, Harman, why???
And lastly, a deliberately backlit picture of a tree blossom. Again, I was expecting / hoping for dramatic flare from the bright light behind it. Instead, I got muted colors and no flare. f4, 1/125sec
I will admit, especially with the 35mm version of this emulsion, I went in with low expectations. And so far, the film is not exceeding them.
And, spoiler alert, in this entire roll, I don’t think I have one “banger” or amazing photograph. Honestly, if I could only describe the above pictures with one word, it would be “muddy”.
That’s (almost) never a word you want to apply to your photographs.
In fact, I anticipate only one more post about this roll. There aren’t enough interesting images to drag this out into three or four articles.
I didn’t want to repeat this, but I have a meme for this too. If collecting memes counts as a workout, I’m already ahead of the game. At least my brain gets a solid workout .
Running after trains should also qualify as cardio. Sundays are when the Railways collectively decide it’s the perfect day for repairs – which means last-minute cancellations and platform changes. You’d think, “What’s the big deal? Just wait for another train.” But no. The real challenge begins when you have to climb up and down staircases, sprint from one platform to another, and dodge a few hundred people along the way. Add in the heat , and you’ve got yourself a full-body workout.
It may be Sunday, but this city’s population easily equals two or three countries .
If that’s not exercise, I don’t know what is. I don’t really have a favorite workout either, I might just vanish if I did more. But if silly dancing counts… then that’s my favorite .
This emotional poem is a gentle reminder to cherish life, hope, and self-love — even in the face of pain and uncertainty.
It inspires us to live fully, create fearlessly, and never let despair silence the song of our hearts before life’s journey ends.
# Don’t Die Before Death #
Don’t die before death, my heart, No matter how dark the sky may turn. Stay in joy, let laughter be your light, Defeat the shadows that try to burn. Oh heart, remember this art — Don’t die before death, my heart.
Keep searching for who you are, Let the flame of hope never fade. Even when the path feels far, Don’t let your purpose be betrayed. Oh heart, when storms depart — Don’t die before death, my heart.
Love yourself with every breath, Feel life flowing in every vein. Let your soul dance beyond regret, Let smiles blossom after pain. Oh heart, play your part — Don’t die before death, my heart.
Stay curious, keep learning still, Find something new each day. Think kind, create with will, Write what your soul longs to say. Dream — and make those dreams restart, But don’t die before death, my heart..
I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt question is both delightful and thought-provoking — “Invent a holiday! Explain how and why everyone should celebrate.”
When I first read this, I smiled. The world already has days for love, friendship, the environment, and even coffee — but one thing we often forget to celebrate is gratitude.
So, I would like to introduce a new holiday to the world: The Global Day of Gratitude — a day for every person, everywhere, to pause and say, “Thank you.”
The Heart of the Idea
Our modern lives move at lightning speed. We wake up checking phones, rush to work, chase deadlines, and go to bed thinking of tomorrow’s worries.
Somewhere between ambition and obligation, we forget to appreciate what we already have — our health, our families, our friends, and even the small joys like the morning breeze or the laughter of a child.
The Global Day of Gratitude would remind us to slow down and reconnect with these simple yet profound blessings.
It would be celebrated on September 21, aligning beautifully with the International Day of Peace, because peace begins in a thankful heart.
How We Would Celebrate It
This day wouldn’t need expensive gifts or grand parties. It would be about sincerity, simplicity, and connection. Here’s how I imagine it unfolding:
1. A Morning of Reflection
People would begin the day by thinking about three things they’re grateful for. It could be as small as a warm cup of tea, a good friend, or the roof over one’s head.
Schools could hold “Gratitude Circles,” where children share what they love most in their lives. Imagine how beautiful it would be to see little ones expressing thankfulness — a lesson that will guide them for life.
2. Acts of Kindness
Gratitude naturally leads to kindness. On this day, each person would perform one good deed — writing a thank-you note, feeding a stray animal, calling an old friend, or helping a neighbor.
Offices could create “Walls of Appreciation,” where colleagues post sticky notes praising or thanking one another.
3. The Gratitude Tree
Every community could plant a Gratitude Tree. People could hang handwritten notes on its branches expressing appreciation for someone or something.
Over the years, these trees would grow — living symbols of collective thankfulness and unity.
4. A Digital Detox Hour
For at least one hour, everyone would go offline — no social media, no screens. Instead, families could talk, play games, or share memories.
We spend so much time in the virtual world that we often forget to cherish the real one right in front of us.
5. An Evening of Togetherness
The day could end with simple gatherings — family dinners, community picnics, or neighborhood walks. There would be laughter, storytelling, and heartfelt words of appreciation. No gifts, just gratitude.
Why Everyone Should Celebrate It
Gratitude is the great equalizer. It doesn’t matter where you live, what you believe in, or how much you own — everyone has something to be thankful for.
This holiday would unite people across nations, religions, and generations because thankfulness is universal.
Studies show that practicing gratitude boosts happiness, reduces stress, and strengthens relationships.
On a global scale, it could even help ease conflicts. When people are thankful for what they have, they stop comparing and start caring. When nations recognize what they share, peace feels closer than ever.
The Global Day of Gratitude would also help us reconnect with nature.
If we pause to thank the Earth for its beauty and bounty, we become more mindful of protecting it. Environmental care would become an act of gratitude, not obligation.
A Vision for the Future
Imagine the power of this day: at noon, across every continent, people take a one-minute “Moment of Thanks.”
For sixty seconds, the world falls silent — not in fear or mourning, but in appreciation. Children, workers, leaders, and elders all stop to whisper a quiet thank you.
Can you picture that energy? A planet vibrating with gratitude — hearts aligned in kindness and respect.
This holiday would teach us to look at life differently. Instead of saying, “I wish I had more,” we would learn to say, “I am thankful for what I have.” It would nurture contentment, humility, and joy — the ingredients for true happiness.
My Final Submission
The Global Day of Gratitude isn’t just another date on the calendar; it’s a reminder of what it means to be human. It asks us to pause, appreciate, and connect — with ourselves, with others, and with the world we share.
If every person spent just one day focusing on gratitude, the ripple effect could transform our planet. Wars might soften into dialogues, loneliness might fade into connection, and complaints might turn into compassion.
So, my friends, let’s dream of a day when billions of voices, across languages and lands, come together to say the same two magical words — Thank you.
Because gratitude doesn’t just make us happier — it makes us better.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Today, I want to share about a festival that is deeply rooted in devotion, discipline, and gratitude — Chhath Puja.
This four-day celebration, to be observed from October 25th to October 28th, 2025, is not just another festival on the Indian calendar; it’s a spiritual journey that unites faith, nature, and community in a harmonious rhythm.
While this festival is celebrated with immense fervor across Bihar, Jharkhand, and Uttar Pradesh, its message of purity, perseverance, and gratitude has transcended borders, touching hearts across India and even among the Indian diaspora abroad.
Yes, my heart and spirit remain deeply connected to the essence of Chhath Puja — the songs, the rituals, the faith, and above all, the sunrise and sunset prayers that symbolize balance, endurance, and devotion.
Let’s delve into the fascinating rituals, little-known facts, and timeless values that make Chhath Puja a truly extraordinary celebration.
The Four Sacred Days of Chhath Puja
Day 1: Nahay Khay (October 25, 2025)
The first day of Chhath Puja, called Nahay Khay, marks the spiritual cleansing of mind and body. Devotees, known as Vratis, take a holy dip — traditionally in the Ganga or any nearby river — and bring the sacred water home for cooking.
The kitchen and house are thoroughly cleaned, symbolizing purity and discipline. The Vratis then eat a simple vegetarian meal, often lauki-bhaat (bottle gourd with rice) cooked in the holy water.
This day emphasizes simplicity and mental preparation for the rigorous fasting that follows.
A lesser-known fact is that the practice of Nahay Khay dates back to Vedic times, where bathing rituals were believed to purify the energy centers (chakras) of the body, aligning one’s physical state with spiritual intent.
Day 2: Kharna (October 26, 2025)
The second day, known as Kharna, tests the devotee’s endurance and faith. Vratis observe a Nirjala Vrat, abstaining from both food and water from sunrise to sunset. As dusk falls, the fast is broken after offering prayers to the setting Sun God.
A humble meal of gur ki kheer (jaggery rice pudding), chapatis brushed with ghee, and fruits is prepared as Prasad. Family members and neighbors gather to share this meal, which is considered sacred.
Interestingly, the act of fasting in Chhath Puja is not seen as deprivation but as a yogic discipline — a balance of mind, body, and spirit. It is said to purify the body and strengthen one’s willpower.
Day 3: Sandhya Arghya (October 27, 2025)
The third day is the most vibrant and visually enchanting. As the sun begins to set, Vratis and their families gather along the banks of rivers, ponds, or even rooftops decorated with bamboo baskets filled with offerings — Thekua, rice laddus, sugarcane, coconut, and seasonal fruits.
This offering, known as Arghya, is made to the setting sun, representing gratitude for the light, warmth, and life-giving energy that sustains the Earth.
The scene is breathtaking — women in bright saris, men joining hands in prayer, and melodious Chhath Geet echoing across the waters.
A beautiful, lesser-known tradition here is that no priest conducts the rituals — every devotee performs the worship personally.
This makes Chhath Puja one of the few festivals in India where devotion is entirely self-guided, symbolizing equality and direct connection with the divine.
Day 4: Usha Arghya (October 28, 2025)
The final morning, known as Usha Arghya, begins before dawn. Devotees gather once again at the water’s edge to offer their prayers to the rising sun, symbolizing new beginnings, hope, and renewal.
As the golden rays of the first light touch the water, Vratis offer milk and water to the sun while praying to Chhathi Maiya, the goddess believed to protect children and ensure family well-being.
After this, the fast is broken with sharbat, raw milk, and Thekua, marking the completion of the four-day vow.
The Prasad is then distributed among friends, neighbors, and relatives — a gesture of love, gratitude, and community sharing.
Chhath Puja: A Symphony of Faith and Culture
Beyond its rituals, Chhath Puja stands as a testament to unity, simplicity, and sustainability. Every item used in the rituals — from the earthen diyas to bamboo baskets — is locally sourced.
This not only supports rural artisans but also keeps the festival eco-friendly, aligning it with the philosophy of living in harmony with nature.
Even more heartwarming is the communal harmony that Chhath Puja fosters.
In many regions, Muslim artisans make the clay stoves used by Hindu devotees, and local communities — regardless of religion or status — come together to help each other prepare for the festival. Truly, Chhath Puja is an example of “unity in diversity” in action.
The music of Chhath — simple, soulful folk songs — adds another layer of beauty. Passed down through generations, these songs are sung in Maithili, Bhojpuri, and Magahi, echoing across villages and cities.
They capture stories of love, gratitude, and devotion to the Sun God and Chhathi Maiya, creating a living bridge between generations.
The Science Behind the Spirituality
While deeply spiritual, Chhath Puja also holds remarkable scientific significance.
The act of offering Arghya to the rising and setting sun helps the body absorb the first rays of sunlight — a natural source of Vitamin D and vital energy. Standing waist-deep in water during these times also improves blood circulation and relieves stress — a practice that ancient yogic traditions considered highly therapeutic.
Moreover, the four-day fasting pattern cleanses the digestive system and detoxifies the body — making Chhath a true celebration of spiritual and physical wellness.
A Celebration of Endurance, Gratitude, and Grace
In essence, Chhath Puja is not merely a festival — it is an experience of faith, patience, and purity. It teaches self-control, respect for nature, and gratitude for life itself.
For me, the spirit of Chhath lives on — in the memories of family prayers by the riverbank, the aroma of Thekua filling the air, and the golden reflections of the sun on still waters.
As generations pass, festivals like Chhath Puja continue to strengthen the threads of our culture, reminding us that the truest form of worship is gratitude — for the sun, for nature, and for one another.
Wishing everyone a blessed and joyful Chhath Puja! May the light of the sun illuminate your life with health, happiness, and endless prosperity.
I have zero interest in going to the moon. Honestly, I can’t think of anything worse. Sounds scary and dangerous and I value my life more than that.
I have no interest in feeling all that gravity stuff, the freeze dried food or losing so much bone mass. Does that sound like a fun time? Not to me.
I am beyond relieved that the weekend is here. No early morning workout, no alarm going off at 5:15.
It’s supposed to be relatively warm and actually get into the double digits, ABOVE zero. Most of that big dump of snow we got at Thanksgiving has melted, thank god.
I plan to wash some windows outside and organize Sid’s toys inside. At 5 pm Cordelia and I are taking Sid to the “Trunk or Treat” event at the rec centre here and hopefully through both haunted houses.
I was thinking this morning of how grateful I am to no longer have to work shift work. I spent so many Saturdays and Sundays doing twelve hour shifts and away from my kids.
Grateful is the word of the day.
Cordelia in 2021 (in purple) with some of her classmates at their grade 8 promotion
Today, I want to share about a festival that is deeply rooted in devotion, discipline, and gratitude — Chhath Puja.
This four-day celebration, to be observed from October 25th to October 28th, 2025, is not just another festival on the Indian calendar; it’s a spiritual journey that unites faith, nature, and community in a harmonious rhythm.
While this festival is celebrated with immense fervor across Bihar, Jharkhand, and Uttar Pradesh, its message of purity, perseverance, and gratitude has transcended borders, touching hearts across India and even among the Indian diaspora abroad.
Though I am away from my native place this year, my heart and spirit remain deeply connected to the essence of Chhath Puja — the songs, the rituals, the faith, and above all, the sunrise and sunset prayers that symbolize balance, endurance, and devotion.
Let’s delve into the fascinating rituals, little-known facts, and timeless values that make Chhath Puja a truly extraordinary celebration.
The Four Sacred Days of Chhath Puja
Day 1: Nahay Khay (October 25, 2025)
The first day of Chhath Puja, called Nahay Khay, marks the spiritual cleansing of mind and body. Devotees, known as Vratis, take a holy dip — traditionally in the Ganga or any nearby river — and bring the sacred water home for cooking. The kitchen and house are thoroughly cleaned, symbolizing purity and discipline. The Vratis then eat a simple vegetarian meal, often lauki-bhaat (bottle gourd with rice) cooked in the holy water. This day emphasizes simplicity and mental preparation for the rigorous fasting that follows.
A lesser-known fact is that the practice of Nahay Khay dates back to Vedic times, where bathing rituals were believed to purify the energy centers (chakras) of the body, aligning one’s physical state with spiritual intent.
Day 2: Kharna (October 26, 2025)
The second day, known as Kharna, tests the devotee’s endurance and faith. Vratis observe a Nirjala Vrat, abstaining from both food and water from sunrise to sunset. As dusk falls, the fast is broken after offering prayers to the setting Sun God.
A humble meal of gur ki kheer (jaggery rice pudding), chapatis brushed with ghee, and fruits is prepared as Prasad. Family members and neighbors gather to share this meal, which is considered sacred.
Interestingly, the act of fasting in Chhath Puja is not seen as deprivation but as a yogic discipline — a balance of mind, body, and spirit. It is said to purify the body and strengthen one’s willpower.
Day 3: Sandhya Arghya (October 27, 2025)
The third day is the most vibrant and visually enchanting. As the sun begins to set, Vratis and their families gather along the banks of rivers, ponds, or even rooftops decorated with bamboo baskets filled with offerings — Thekua, rice laddus, sugarcane, coconut, and seasonal fruits.
This offering, known as Arghya, is made to the setting sun, representing gratitude for the light, warmth, and life-giving energy that sustains the Earth. The scene is breathtaking — women in bright saris, men joining hands in prayer, and melodious Chhath Geet echoing across the waters.
A beautiful, lesser-known tradition here is that no priest conducts the rituals — every devotee performs the worship personally. This makes Chhath Puja one of the few festivals in India where devotion is entirely self-guided, symbolizing equality and direct connection with the divine.
Day 4: Usha Arghya (October 28, 2025)
The final morning, known as Usha Arghya, begins before dawn. Devotees gather once again at the water’s edge to offer their prayers to the rising sun, symbolizing new beginnings, hope, and renewal.
As the golden rays of the first light touch the water, Vratis offer milk and water to the sun while praying to Chhathi Maiya, the goddess believed to protect children and ensure family well-being. After this, the fast is broken with sharbat, raw milk, and Thekua, marking the completion of the four-day vow.
The Prasad is then distributed among friends, neighbors, and relatives — a gesture of love, gratitude, and community sharing.
Chhath Puja: A Symphony of Faith and Culture
Beyond its rituals, Chhath Puja stands as a testament to unity, simplicity, and sustainability. Every item used in the rituals — from the earthen diyas to bamboo baskets — is locally sourced. This not only supports rural artisans but also keeps the festival eco-friendly, aligning it with the philosophy of living in harmony with nature.
Even more heartwarming is the communal harmony that Chhath Puja fosters. In many regions, Muslim artisans make the clay stoves used by Hindu devotees, and local communities — regardless of religion or status — come together to help each other prepare for the festival. Truly, Chhath Puja is an example of “unity in diversity” in action.
The music of Chhath — simple, soulful folk songs — adds another layer of beauty. Passed down through generations, these songs are sung in Maithili, Bhojpuri, and Magahi, echoing across villages and cities. They capture stories of love, gratitude, and devotion to the Sun God and Chhathi Maiya, creating a living bridge between generations.
The Science Behind the Spirituality
While deeply spiritual, Chhath Puja also holds remarkable scientific significance. The act of offering Arghya to the rising and setting sun helps the body absorb the first rays of sunlight — a natural source of Vitamin D and vital energy. Standing waist-deep in water during these times also improves blood circulation and relieves stress — a practice that ancient yogic traditions considered highly therapeutic.
Moreover, the four-day fasting pattern cleanses the digestive system and detoxifies the body — making Chhath a true celebration of spiritual and physical wellness.
A Celebration of Endurance, Gratitude, and Grace
In essence, Chhath Puja is not merely a festival — it is an experience of faith, patience, and purity. It teaches self-control, respect for nature, and gratitude for life itself.
For me, the spirit of Chhath lives on — in the memories of family prayers by the riverbank, the aroma of Thekua filling the air, and the golden reflections of the sun on still waters.
As generations pass, festivals like Chhath Puja continue to strengthen the threads of our culture, reminding us that the truest form of worship is gratitude — for the sun, for nature, and for one another.
Wishing everyone a blessed and joyful Chhath Puja! May the light of the sun illuminate your life with health, happiness, and endless prosperity.
This morning, out of nowhere, my mind drifted to this idea of perfection.
Why are we obsessed with perfection? Believing that perfection is beauty. Is creation perfect? I’m sure it’s perfectly created as it is – with mountains of various shapes and sizes. They’re not made in neat lines; that suddenly dip into valleys and gorges. Rivers and streams meander; they don’t flow in a straight course. Then out of nowhere, a river plunges into a waterfall. The galaxy is scattered with stars, planets, and meteors drifting in all directions. God did not create this world neat, straight, or arranged in the order humans have created for ourselves. There’s beauty in the ridges, cracks, and the uneven.
When we look at nature, it is unpredictable. Yet this same unpredictability gives it life. Storms clear paths, though we don’t always see it that way. And human order, more often than not, leads to anxiety, burnout, and even artificiality. We become performers.
So, why do we humans chase perfection? Why do we think perfection is the ultimate? Why do we think everything has to be in order? How is order perfection? What’s wrong with a strand of hair being out of place, a lipstick that smudges, or a dress that doesn’t fall the way we want it to? What’s wrong with a flower that isn’t the right color, or a house that’s littered with toys and paints?
We want our weddings to be perfect, our work to be error-free. I’m not saying it shouldn’t be, but there will always be faults and mistakes. The real beauty is in the grace we extend in those circumstances.
We demand perfection from our children- academic excellence, extracurricular achievement, good behavior, well-paying jobs. Our extended families must appear and behave a certain way. Our relationships must never be messy. We expect people to be well put together, our homes picture-postcard perfect.
In short, our whole lives are supposed to be magical -curated and ready for any candid or surprising moment.
Why is it such a flaw to embrace imperfection? Why can’t we celebrate ourselves and the lives we have just as they are? What is it about imperfection that throws us off balance? Why do we feel the need to curate our lives and present this false image of having it all, when we all know we don’t? We’re flawed and broken, each of us fighting unseen battles.
Why do we chase perfection? Is it societal conditioning? Because, truthfully, we constantly live under watchful eyes. Nowadays, it’s not just family, friends, neighbors, or acquaintances, we have complete strangers watching through social media. But we also put ourselves in that position to be watched. We crave attention, that little bit of fame and influence.
Is it fear? Fear of failure, of being judged, compared, rejected, or simply unseen?
Or is it about control? We have this need to control the narrative, to shape every detail until it feels safe. Maybe we’ve mistaken control for peace, in our confusion.
What if we change our mental outlook and understanding? What if we reframe how we view perfection? What if imperfection isn’t failure but authenticity, that beauty lies in the grace we extend to our flaws? The imperfect life doesn’t stop singing; it simply sings in a different rhythm.
For me, I have imperfect days – every day. Mornings start out chaotic and stressful. But my daughter only has to say something funny or give me the sweetest, most mischievous look, and I can’t help but smile, even when I don’t want to. Then there are mornings when the milk curdles or spills, a mess I greatly dislike. And we don’t have just one graffiti wall; all four walls of our bedroom are full of art . An imperfectly perfect room or a miniature art studio – whichever fits. And these are the days etched in my memory, not because they’re perfect, but because they’re real.
If the sea isn’t ashamed of its tides, why should we be ashamed of our waves? What if the world doesn’t need our perfection, but our presence? Maybe the cracks aren’t flaws after all, but invitations to let the light in.
Literally, it is normal for some individuals to spend their hard-earned money on some extraordinary travel, such as outer-space adventures, because such experiences widen the perspective and bring immense awe to the traveler, seeing amazing things beyond earth.
However, the question tells me if ever I am willing to spend a vast amount of money for that unique experience. For me, it’s a no. Not for the risk, but for the thought that I can do many things for it for my fellow human beings. Though I can’t reach the moon, I have the stars in my life, including you, my amazing readers.
Moon
Papa played my favorite Christmas songs again this morning, which I’ll share again with you. It brings me tears of joy. I’ll dedicate this song to you and savor the lyrics’ English translation because they all describe you very much.
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Not only the stars and angels found in the sky, but also here on WordPress.
Thank you so much for your loving support, my amazing readers. Yes, we’re celebrating Christmas here early. Happy weekend, and stay blessed!
In the digital age, the internet has become an integral part of our lives—a companion that provides us with knowledge, inspiration, and entertainment all at once.
The favorite websites of each individual are a beautiful reflection of their personality and interests.
Today, I want to share with you some of my favorite websites that have enriched my life in terms of learning, creating, and connecting.
My Digital Journey
Hello dear friends, I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is truly fascinating — “What are your favorite websites?”
It might sound like a simple question, but the truth is, the websites we visit most often mirror our curiosity, our passions, and even our philosophy of life.
In this vast world of the internet — a library, teacher, entertainer, and companion all in one — I have discovered a few special places that have shaped my thoughts and inspired my creativity. Allow me to take you on a little digital journey through them.
1. Wikipedia – The Ocean of Knowledge
Whenever a question crosses my mind, my first destination is Wikipedia. It’s more than an encyclopedia — it’s a living archive of human wisdom.
What makes it special to me is its openness and neutrality. It doesn’t shout opinions; it simply presents facts.
Many times, I’ve started reading about one topic and found myself lost in another fascinating subject. From “The Renaissance” to “The Age of Enlightenment” — Wikipedia makes learning feel like exploration.
2. Medium – The Voice of Ideas
As a writer and reader, Medium feels like a cozy café of words. Here, writers from around the world share their insights and experiences. Every story feels authentic and human.
I love how Medium brings together people of diverse backgrounds who believe in the power of storytelling. It inspires me to keep refining my craft, to write not just with logic but with emotion.
3. BBC News – The Window to the World
Amidst a flood of noisy headlines, BBC News stands as a beacon of credibility. It provides clarity, balance, and a global perspective on events that shape our lives.
Whether it’s world politics, environmental changes, or cultural stories, BBC helps me stay connected with the world without losing faith in humanity.
4. Coursera – Learning Without Limits
For a lifelong learner, Coursera is a dream come true. It brings knowledge from the world’s best universities straight to your screen.
What I admire most is its flexibility — you can learn anything, anywhere, at any time. I’ve explored fascinating courses on creative writing, psychology, and leadership — each one adding something valuable to my perspective on life.
5. Canva – Creativity at Your Fingertips
Whenever I want to make my words look as beautiful as they sound, I turn to Canva. It’s an easy-to-use design tool that lets creativity flow freely.
From making blog covers to motivational posters, Canva helps me express myself visually. It proves that creativity doesn’t always require expertise — just imagination and heart.
6. Quora – The Curiosity Corner
If Wikipedia gives you knowledge, Quora gives you wisdom. It’s where real people answer real questions, sharing insights born of experience.
I often find myself reading thought-provoking answers about life, relationships, and human nature. Quora reminds me that learning is not just about collecting facts but about understanding perspectives.
7. RetiredKalam.com – My Heart’s Corner on the Web
And above all, my most favorite website is RetiredKalam.com — my very own creation and the truest reflection of my journey.
After retirement, I felt a deep desire to keep learning, expressing, and sharing. That’s how RetiredKalam.com was born — as a humble effort to spread positivity, wisdom, and inspiration.
Through my blogs, poems, reflections, and motivational thoughts, I try to connect with readers who believe that life after retirement is not the end of purpose but the beginning of peace, creativity, and contribution.
Every post I publish here carries a part of my soul — my experiences, emotions, and lessons learned over the years. The love and encouragement I receive from my readers make every word worthwhile.
For me, RetiredKalam.com isn’t just a website; it’s a living diary — one that celebrates resilience, gratitude, and the simple joy of sharing goodness.
My Final Submission
Our favorite websites are like digital mirrors — reflecting what we value most. For me, they represent curiosity (Wikipedia), creativity (Canva), growth (Coursera), awareness (BBC News), self-expression (Medium), open-mindedness (Quora), and heart (RetiredKalam.com).
In this vast online world, it’s easy to get lost in endless scrolling, but the right websites can guide us toward learning, creativity, and connection.
Among all, RetiredKalam.com remains my proudest and most beloved corner — my way of giving back to the world, one heartfelt post at a time.
So dear friends, tell me — What websites inspire and enrich your life’s journey?
Let’s continue this beautiful exchange of ideas, because when knowledge meets kindness, the world becomes a better place.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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There’s never been a true war that wasn’t fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right. The really dangerous people believe they are doing whatever they are doing solely and only because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous.
~Neil Gaiman, American Gods
The book may be American Gods, but the truth applies to every nation where there are two sides.
This is deeply unsettling, when we feel our moral certainty can go unexamined. When, as people, we stop questioning our own voices and actions, when we no longer ask if we might be wrong, empathy and restraint vanish.
The most frightening wars aren’t always fought with weapons, but with unshakable conviction. And conviction without reflection is a dangerous weapon.
If I hadn’t decided to become a nurse I don’t know where I’d be. I really had a hard time deciding what kind of career path I wanted when I was a young adult.
Of course you all know the story about how, in high school, I thought I would pursue journalism and specifically being a 6 o’clock news desk anchor, when from out of the blue my best friend’s mom gave me her opinion on such a job and quashed it right then and there. I don’t understand why I let that dream die, just because she said it was a silly job, but obviously her opinion carried a lot of weight for me.
After that, I floated around for a few years working but still unsure of a career. I don’t know why it seemed so out of reach for me, almost impossible to wrap my head around a university degree. It really stressed me out that most of the kids in my graduating class knew what they wanted to do and were off pursuing it.
Eventually, I settled on a college about 4 hours from home and took nursing. But basically, at the ripe old age of 22 I felt like I needed to make up my mind and jump onto something. It wasn’t like oh I am so passionate about this. The only job I always knew I wanted was that of being a mother. However, I knew that I should find a career first.
As a kid I dreamed of joining the Army, but also I loved the thought of moving to either Disneyland or World to be the character Snow White. At one point in high school when I really fell in love with being on computers, I contemplated becoming a computer programmer.
Maybe that’s why I got lucky now, at this point in my life. Finally caught a break by getting an amazing job that I truly love. And it’s teaching adults at the college level. Maybe this is the payoff for a life of being so unsure about which occupation I was meant for.
The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, although I hope the rainbow keeps on rainbowing for a bit yet.
Nov 2020, the first moments of Cordelia & our new puppy Remi
(Pic Courtesy: Google.com)
This is a tender love poem that captures the timeless rhythm of affection. It speaks of a bond so deep that every breath, melody, and heartbeat carries the beloved’s presence — a love that transcends distance, time, and dreams.
# Music of My Heart #
In every heartbeat, I hear your name, Without you, my world’s never the same. Your laughter paints my skies so blue, Each dawn awakens just for you.
Your gentle humming, my heart repeats, A tender flame that softly beats. Each melody carries me near, To echoes of love I long to hear.
Beneath the moon, your face I see, A silent prayer you’ve left in me. Even in dreams, your touch feels real, A love so deep no time can steal.
Stay as the rhythm in each breath I take, In every moment, my heart you make. For love like ours will never depart— You are the soothing music of my heart.
What alternative career paths have you considered or are interested in?
Alternative career? I didn’t even get to work properly in my first innings as a career woman, so “alternative” wasn’t really an option. And today, if I look at corporate jobs, I’m competing with freshers, Gen Zs, and young adults who are just a few years older than my teen . And the compensation – well, the less said, the better.
I’m realistic enough to admit that I can’t just start a career now. I know there are all these motivational stories of people starting out late in life and becoming successful and all, but not everyone achieves that. I know I sound discouraging, but reality is real. If it were that easy, we wouldn’t have so many retired people still looking for a second chance at work. Real life is tough.
What I’d like to do isn’t exactly a job or a career, it’s more about following an interest. I’d love nothing more than to build on that. Though I’m becoming more of an introvert, I still want to work with people on a personal level. I love people, and I genuinely believe that understanding one another is crucial if we want a better existence.
People are what matter. If our relationships are in order, everything else we’re called to steward will fall into place.
Otherwise, well… the lottery can solve all my interests and passions, that is, if it ever finds its way to me .
I hope this blog finds you basking in a gentle, hopeful spirit. Today, I embrace a writing prompt that resonates deeply with me: “Describe a family member.”
For each of us, family carves its own definition—sometimes found in laughter, sometimes in shared burdens and victories.
For me, the meaning of family always draws me back to one person: my mother.
She was the gentle strength at the center of our world, the unwavering guide whose lessons continue to shape my path years after she’s gone.
I lost my father very early in life. In that moment, the world could have seemed emptier, but my mother’s quiet determination filled every silence and soothed every ache.
Overnight, she became the bedrock of our family, taking on roles that required tireless strength and infinite compassion.
Her sacrifices were never worn as badges; instead, they shone through daily gestures—a warm meal, a comforting embrace, a word of encouragement before dawn.
My mother’s words echo in my mind,
Nostalgia often sneaks up on me, especially when life asks tough questions or when I pause to acknowledge how far I’ve come.
In these moments, my mother’s words echo in my mind, still as fresh and gentle as they were years ago: “Keep moving on from any situation, whether painful or joyful. Once you get stuck in a particular situation, your life will also get stuck there.”
Her wisdom, forged from hardship and cherished memories, was neither loud nor boastful. It came wrapped in the cloak of lived experience.
She understood that life, with all its unpredictability, asks us not to stand still, but to flow—like a river, gracefully moving over rocks, never afraid of new bends.
Rising before dawn, she would prepare our meals, set us up for the day, and step out to work with the same calm demeanor.
The world often saw only the surface—a smile, a gentle greeting—but I knew the wellspring of faith and hope that lay beneath.
She never complained, not even when troubles seemed relentless. Instead, she looked for solutions, welcoming each challenge as a chance to learn and grow.
One of her greatest qualities was resilience.
While others might falter, she found her strength in honesty, hard work, and an unshakeable faith in the goodness of life.
Her compassion was her armor; she was always ready to listen without judgment, to offer advice that soothed rather than stung. Friends, neighbors, and relatives sought her out—not only because she had answers, but because she gave the gift of understanding.
As a child, her mantra of moving forward sometimes felt like a call to busyness. Only later, with the perspective of adulthood, did I realize the depth: to not stagnate in pain, nor grasp too tightly to fleeting happiness.
Through her, I learnt acceptance —of loss, of change, of the unknown.
In every chapter—from a long career in banking, to retirement, to rediscovering myself in creative pursuits—her wisdom paved the way for growth.
Her life was not untouched by sorrow.
Widowhood came abruptly, but she refused to be defined by it. Instead, her courage quietly held our home together. Evenings found her by the window, sipping tea and watching the sky change color.
There was serenity in her gaze—the assurance that dawn follows the darkest nights.
She celebrated the small victories—a child’s smile, a harvest’s bounty, a peaceful evening with loved ones.
She taught us to do the same, to find joy in simplicity and gratitude in every moment. Amidst adversity, she reminded us, “Pain is not your enemy. It’s a teacher.”
I carry that lesson, facing setbacks and new beginnings with hope, always remembering her gentle guidance.
After retirement, her advice echoed anew:
Yes, her advice is to keep turning the pages of life without looking back in regret. Writing, painting, and sharing stories became my way of moving on—her enduring spirit pushing me to create and connect.
Even in her absence, it is her presence that fills my life, her values lighting every decision and reflection.
To describe my mother is to name the virtues of endurance, compassion, and hope. She was the backbone of my childhood and the heartbeat of my adult years.
Through her, I learned that life’s beauty lies not in permanence, but in progress; not in constant comfort, but in the grace with which we move forward.
So, when asked to describe a family member, I speak of the woman whose spirit still walks with me—the quiet hero whose light continues guiding my journey, step by loving step.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Lately, the meal my kids most often ask me to make is “chick fett”, chicken fettucine alfredo. It’s soooo good.
And easy.
Cook your chicken.
Heavy cream, garlic, butter in a pan. Heat and whisk then add your cheese or cheeses. I mainly use parmesan cheese, the real stuff with a couple shakes of the dried, more processed stuff. It adds a nice saltiness. The odd time I’ll whisk in some cream cheese too but it’s not necessary.
Cook your noodles and bam.
New glasses, new shirt…Cordelia said this shirt is giving Benjamin Franklin or Mozart…thanks Cordy
Are we talking about cooking or eating? Because cooking and I have a hi-bye relationship . But eating, now that’s something I’ve mastered, complete with unsolicited food commentary .
Since I’m not exactly a kitchen expert, I’ll proudly claim my specialty lies in enjoying food rather than preparing it. I love beef stew and our indigenous dishes, anything with beef or pork easily wins my heart.
I did consider giving up non-veg once, mostly out of guilt for the animals… but that noble thought lasted for about a minute. Then good sense prevailed, and I remembered that God did create certain animals for our consumption. Plus, let’s be honest, if I gave up non-veg, I’d probably starve, and that’s definitely not an option .
Some of us are not born to cook but to critically eat, wholeheartedly.
Hello dear friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood.
In a world that moves at lightning speed, we often forget the quiet truths that shape a meaningful life.
Today’s prompt — “What’s something you believe everyone should know?” — stirred a simple yet profound realization in me.
Beyond knowledge or success, it’s awareness and compassion that truly enrich our human experience. Let’s explore why these two timeless virtues matter now more than ever..
Awareness: The Seed of Understanding
Awareness is not just noticing what is happening around us. It’s about truly seeing — observing with presence and intention.
When we are aware, we step beyond autopilot living. We begin to understand the patterns in our thoughts, emotions, and behaviors.
Awareness allows us to recognize our triggers before they become reactions, to listen before we respond, and to think before we judge.
In today’s world, we are constantly bombarded with information — news, social media updates, advertisements, and opinions. It’s easy to get lost in the noise, to live reactively rather than reflectively.
But awareness acts like a filter; it helps us discern truth from illusion, value from distraction.
For example, when we become aware of how technology affects our attention span, we can consciously choose to set boundaries.
When we notice the emotions behind our anger or sadness, we can address their root rather than masking them.
Awareness transforms us from being passive participants in life to mindful creators of our own experiences.
Compassion: The Bridge to Connection
If awareness is seeing the world clearly, compassion is what gives it meaning. It’s one thing to understand pain — it’s another to respond to it with kindness.
Compassion is not pity; it’s the ability to stand beside someone and say, “I see you. I understand.”
Sadly, the modern world often celebrates strength as independence, forgetting that our greatest strength lies in empathy — the courage to care.
Compassion softens the edges of our differences and reminds us of our shared humanity. Whether it’s a kind word to a stranger, patience with a colleague, or forgiveness toward ourselves, compassion has a ripple effect.
Compassion not only heals the one who receives it but also the one who gives.
When awareness and compassion merge, we develop conscious empathy — a balanced understanding that respects both our own boundaries and others’ experiences.
This harmony helps build healthier relationships, stronger communities, and ultimately, a more peaceful world.
The Inner Connection
Many of us are kind to others but harsh toward ourselves. We carry guilt for our mistakes, compare our worth to others, and dwell on what we “should have” done differently.
But true compassion begins within. Everyone should know that self-kindness is not selfishness — it’s self-respect.
When we nurture self-awareness and compassion inwardly, our external actions become more genuine. We stop chasing perfection and begin embracing growth.
We realize that it’s okay to stumble, to rest, to start over — because learning is never a straight path.
Imagine if every child grew up learning that emotions are not weaknesses but signals; that failure is not an end but feedback; and that kindness is not optional but essential. The world would be a much softer, wiser place.
Awareness and Compassion in Action
Let’s look at some simple, real-world ways this wisdom can transform daily life:
At Work: Awareness helps us recognize burnout before it takes hold, while compassion encourages us to ask for help or offer it to a teammate.
In Relationships: Awareness allows us to listen without interrupting; compassion reminds us to forgive without keeping score.
In Society: Awareness helps us question bias and misinformation; compassion drives us to act for fairness and justice rather than apathy.
Within Ourselves: Awareness helps us identify what nourishes or drains us; compassion ensures we treat ourselves gently in the process.
These small acts create big change. Every thoughtful pause, every kind gesture, every moment of empathy contributes to a more conscious and connected world.
The Universal Truth
Ultimately, what everyone should know is that we are all interconnected. Our thoughts, words, and actions echo far beyond what we can see.
Awareness helps us recognize the threads that link us, and compassion ensures we don’t break them carelessly.
Knowledge may give us power, but awareness and compassion give us purpose. Together, they make us wiser, kinder, and more human.
My Final Submission
So, dear friends, when someone asks me, “What’s something you believe everyone should know?”, my answer will always be this:
“Know yourself deeply, understand others gently, and move through the world with awareness and compassion.”
Because in the end, these two qualities shape not only how we live but also how we love — and that, perhaps, is the greatest knowledge of all.
When the heart understands what the mind sees, compassion becomes our natural language.
Last Saturday, I was the cook for the little “handaan” for my sister’s special day. We only have two recipes we cooked, but I only managed to take a photo of the “adobo chicken.” It’s one of my specialties, I believe. It is tasty for my liking.
Most of the time when there’s a special occasion, karaoke surely occurs; hence, my sister and my auntie (very rare) sang songs they like. See for yourself. I enjoyed watching them. Who is your bet to win?
Elsewhere, my brother-in-law has a new trip. He wants a fishpond, and I said, “It’s almost summer.” He didn’t listen. But I feel a little excited, too, because I like feeding fish. I think it’s a beautiful addition to our space.
Alright, have a lovely Thursday, my amazing readers. Thank you so much always. Stay so kind!
Getting home from work, I went out to the backyard to deliver the peanuts.
The big crow showed up, followed by the small one.
After leaving the nuts on the fence, I sat down in a patio chair and ignored them.
The big male doesn’t have a problem with me (foreshadowing), but the smaller female is skittish and will make a diving run to grab a peanut without actually landing.
I’m starting to take that personally…
In deference to the female (story of my life), if I don’t go in, I sit down and avoid staring.
So I was quite surprised when the big fella, having strutted up and down the fence, collecting multiple peanuts at once and then flying off, suddenly started shouting at me from the power line.
All the peanuts in the fence were gone, and he wanted more.
He wasn’t nice about it.
This was clearly a,”Hey *sshole, where’s the rest of them!?”
Naturally, I put out more.
This happened a second time, but as he was collecting his due, the squirrel literally barreled past him, knocking him into the air and snagging at least one of the peanuts right out from under his beak.
I think the presumed alliance of yesterday is starting to show cracks…
The crackers and fireworks are making themselves felt. This morning, I was woken up by the sound of firecrackers but fortunately went right back to sleep. And just when I thought this Diwali isn’t as noisy, crackers burst right in front of our house . The smell of burnt fireworks hits your senses immediately, sharp and stubborn. I also wish people would clean up after, but that’s probably too much to ask. The roads in the morning are a sight for sore eyes.
Am I allowed to panic for a minute? October is almost coming to an end. How did these two or three weeks go by? It feels like just a few days ago it was the beginning of the month, and now here we are, almost at the end. Isn’t this month going by too quickly?
Which also means another two months and the year is done. Time is a bit unfair, moving too fast. It feels like we’re living between inhaling and exhaling, I’ve barely breathed in when I’m already breathing out, and the day is over. I still haven’t finished September in my head, and suddenly Diwali lights are competing with Christmas decorations.
Speaking of time, my sister-in-law’s mother is hospitalized. She had a heart attack, and since she’s getting on in years, her recovery is slow. It reminded me that one of Mum’s older sisters has entered her 90s. We really do live on borrowed time.
The other day, my little girl asked me what a life span is. I told her it’s the age we’re given to live, some reach their 90s or even 100s, while some barely get to live at all. That’s a lot to think about, even for us adults.
Once another note, the boys had an evening out all by themselves. Male bonding and man to man talks . Our son is growing. Time…
Maybe time isn’t unfair after all. Maybe it’s just reminding us to live, while we still can, in the space between each breath.
Exiting the car, I could hear the crow in the backyard calling.
But I needed to bring in the garbage can first.
Otherwise, people walking by feel free to throw their crap into it.
And nearly got dive-bombed by an impatient crow.
He took a wide swooping loop around me, not actually buzzing me but close enough and low enough to clearly say, “Hey! I’m waiting over here!”
I finished with the garbage can (nobody backs Baby into a corner!), but needless to say, the next stop was peanuts for him and the other, smaller crow I’m pretty sure is his mate.
I’m running low on peanuts again, and the 15 pounds I ordered as a replacement won’t be here for a few more days…
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and surrounded by curiosity — the kind that makes you wonder, “What if I had chosen a different path?”
Yes, Today’s writing prompt — “What alternative career paths have you considered or are interested in?” — made me pause and reflect on this very question.
We all grow up hearing that familiar phrase: “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
As children, we answer boldly — astronaut, teacher, singer, doctor, cricketer — as if the world were a menu and we could simply pick what we liked best.
But as we step into adulthood, we realize that careers are not straight highways; they are winding roads filled with detours, surprises, and sometimes, hidden paths waiting to be explored.
The Power of Curiosity
I have always believed that curiosity is the soul of career discovery.
Even if you are happy in your current profession, curiosity nudges you to imagine alternative worlds — lives you might have lived if circumstances or choices had been different.
For me, exploring alternative career paths is not about dissatisfaction; it’s about imagination. It’s about asking “What else could I do with the skills, interests, and values I already have?”
Sometimes, just imagining those possibilities makes us more creative and grateful for the path we are on.
The Artist Within
One of the first alternative careers that ever fascinated me was painting.
As a child, I loved playing with colors — mixing them, watching how red bled into yellow to make orange, or how blue could calm even the loudest canvas.
I imagined myself as a painter, traveling through quiet hills, sketching sunsets, and capturing the poetry of ordinary life in shades of emotion.
Art, for me, represented freedom — the ability to express what words often fail to say. While I didn’t pursue it professionally, the artist in me never really went away.
Even today, I find peace in creativity — whether it’s designing a blog, taking photos, or writing a heartfelt poem.
Perhaps the artist’s career path still lives quietly in me, just in a different form.
The Psychologist or Counsellor
Another path I’ve often imagined walking is that of a psychologist or counsellor.
I’ve always been fascinated by the human mind — why people feel the way they do, what drives their decisions, and how they find strength in moments of despair.
The idea of listening to people’s stories, helping them untangle their thoughts, and guiding them toward healing has always inspired me deeply.
In a world where mental health is finally getting the attention it deserves, I think being a counsellor would be one of the most fulfilling professions — not just a job, but a form of service to humanity.
The Teacher and the Writer
If I had to name a calling that continues to tug at my heart, it would be teaching and writing.
I’ve always admired teachers — the quiet architects of society who shape minds and awaken curiosity in others. A great teacher doesn’t just share knowledge; they ignite imagination.
Writing, on the other hand, has been my constant companion —
It creates a bridge between thoughts and the world. It allows me to teach without a classroom, to share without a schedule, and to reach people’s hearts across borders.
Perhaps, in some ways, I am already living this alternative career through words — inspiring, reflecting, and learning alongside others.
The Traveller and Storyteller
There’s also a dreamer in me who once wanted to become a travel blogger or documentary storyteller.
The idea of wandering through new places, meeting diverse people, and capturing their untold stories felt like living a thousand lives in one.
Every culture, every local meal, every shared laugh adds a new perspective to our understanding of humanity.
Travel changes you — not just your surroundings, but your soul. It teaches humility, patience, and wonder.
If I ever chose an alternative career later in life, I think travel storytelling would be high on that list.
The Beauty of “What If”
Thinking about alternative careers doesn’t mean we regret our choices. Instead, it reminds us that we are multi-dimensional beings — capable of many passions, not limited to one profession.
Each path we imagine reveals something about who we are: our desires, values, and hidden talents.
Perhaps that’s the real beauty of the question — “What alternative career paths have you considered?”
It invites us to explore the vastness of our potential. It’s not about escaping the present but celebrating the endless “what ifs” of life.
My Final Submission
So, dear friends, if you ever catch yourself daydreaming about another profession, don’t dismiss it. Let that curiosity breathe.
Every alternative path we imagine enriches the one we’re already walking.
Whether you are an engineer who secretly paints, a banker who writes poetry at night, or a homemaker who dreams of starting a business — remember, your possibilities are as limitless as your imagination.
Sometimes, the roads not taken don’t disappear — they simply become part of who we are.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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The word stewardship is something I come across often, but it’s usually tied to finances, while other, equally important aspects rarely get the same attention. When yesterday’s prompt asked what we’re most proud of in life, my immediate thought was about how we steward our lives. Then, this morning, I heard a similar message, that our lives, and everything we possess or hold dear, including family and friendships, are not truly ours. We are given these to steward them. How we do that is up to us.
I have been thinking about stewardship and how I steward this life and the people around me. We all live borrowed lives. For those fortunate enough, they get to live a long, healthy, and perhaps even a fulfilled one. More often, though, life is not as fair. It is a contrast where comfort and struggle exist side by side. Sometimes, it seems that life hands endless opportunities, wealth, relationships, and talents to a select few, while others toil their whole lives with little to show for it.
I often think about how I’m living this borrowed life. One of the most valuable things we are entrusted with is our own being, something we often overlook. Our body, mind, emotions, and gifts are not permanent possessions but temporary responsibilities. How we care for, nurture, or neglect them reflects how seriously we take being alive.
That is not to say that we cannot fall or wouldn’t face illness. Many major illnesses are not of our making or choice, but how we respond and deal with them is a choice we have and make. As I think on my life, I know I don’t always make good choices, nor do I always steward my life in ways I can take pride in. Yet, I’m learning and unlearning. Unlearning patterns, habits, and behaviors that do not serve my well-being.
I’m also learning that stewarding my life means practicing care, loving wholeheartedly, being generous with my time and resources, striving to live honestly, being reliable, practicing discipline, forgiving even when it doesn’t make sense, being merciful, and extending grace, especially when it is hard. Most of all, it means being authentic with myself. To steward my life this way is not out of vanity, but out of reverence for the life we have been given.
Next is stewardship of relationships. The people in our lives are not ours to keep; they are souls we are privileged to walk beside for a short while. Stewarding these relationships means learning to hold space for love without ownership – easier said than done. As humans, it’s in our nature to feel possessive. Yet, I’m learning, especially with my children, that they will leave the nest one day. I’ve been preparing myself in small ways, insisting they learn life skills and guiding them toward independence. My son is already a teen, and I think I’m reminding myself more than him that it won’t be long before he spreads his wings and fly.
It also means offering kindness without expectation and listening with humility. It’s about recognizing that each relationship is fragile, and sacred.
Beyond the personal, stewardship extends to how we treat the world – nature, community, and society. How we care for our planet has become more important than ever. We’re witnessing how humanity’s carelessness and greed are impacting this world we claim to love and call home. How are we stewarding the earth when all we do is destroy and deplete it?
We are living under the weight of the earth groaning and crying out as she continues to be desecrated. Yet, we do not fear the impending devastation, though we live through it year after year. The irony is that we prepare disaster management plans instead of addressing the root cause – greed. But that might be wishful thinking. Greed cannot be stopped unless our mentality changes, unless conscience speaks louder than desire.
What we must remember is that we are inheritors, and therefore, ancestors in the making. Every act of care, awareness, and compassion becomes part of what we pass on. So, what are we leaving for the generations after us?
Perhaps stewardship also means stewarding our purpose. Maybe when we realize that our work, passion, and talent are not only for our benefit but meant to add value, to create, heal, or restore, even in small ways – we begin to live differently. If our mindset shifts from “What can I gain from this?” to “What can I give through this?” then we can say we have been good stewards of what has been placed in our hands.
Perhaps, to steward well is to live with the awareness that everything we hold is borrowed, and what we leave behind is the imprint of how we cared.
Well there was that lingerie store I had planned to open, over ten years ago, that never came to fruition. Although now that I’m very satisfied in my current job, I’m not even sure I’d want to take on something like that. And especially in today’s world, with the economy being what it is.
I always thought being a business owner was the coolest thing in the world. Being one’s own boss. But if you get yourself a good job where you’re barely being managed, much less micro-managed, it’s pretty sweet too.
Some days I can’t get over the good fortune that is this job. Some days it feels like my life is too good to be true. Not that it’s without obstacles, but overall I’m where I would have given anything to be, twenty-five years ago. Or even ten years ago when I thought opening a lingerie store was going to make my life complete.
The last of the Kentmere 200 photos taken on my Ricohflex Dia’s most recent outing.
I snapped these on my way back from the overpass graffiti. This film makes it all appear more stark than it perhaps is, and I haven’t decided if the lack of color hurts or helps these compositions.
I thought this was an interesting composition, a gnarly tree reaching out with a skeletal branch, and it certainly has texture. But I don’t think the film quite captured the moment. f16, 1/50sec
The shimmering grass swaying in the wind isn’t properly captured here, and the lack of color definitely hurts this photo. But the Ricoh Dia doesn’t have an interchangeable back… f16, 1/50sec
I don’t know what I was trying for here. The dark tree in the background could almost be a mushroom cloud, so maybe I placed it in the wrong group? f16, 1/50sec
This photo definitely would have benefited from a wider aperture and a longer focal length. And possibly color, though the flower itself wasn’t that vibrant. This was more about just finishing the roll at this point. And hey, does that black bar at the top mean they didn’t scan the whole image at the shop? f16, 1/50sec
I think my biggest frustration with this camera is the focal length and minimum focus distance. I literally cannot get good closeups with it.
In fairness to the camera, closeups (and macro photography) were never what it was meant for. I think it was intended for tourist shots taken on a trip.
The fact that these pictures don’t really do anything for me doesn’t help that use case, though.
I think this camera requires a very specific use case, and I need to figure out what that is before I take it out again. It’s great for architecture photos; some of my first photos on it were of buildings and I really like what I got. But my current interest in closeups and macros makes this camera a no-go for me.
I guess that’s what I’ve learned from this roll.
That and Kentmere 200 is a serviceable but not amazing film. At least not how I used it.
The city lights up, while the sky glows. Fireworks of different colors brighten the night- delighting our senses, making us forget the day’s troubles for a bit.
Light brings beauty, joy, and a childlike enthusiasm to celebrate life, and the triumph of good over evil, even when we’re skeptics.
Diwali – the festival of lights, where lamps flicker gently and laughter echoes. Family and friends remember each other, sweets pass from hand to hand.
With every glow, a little piece of love shines through. Small reminders, that even the tiniest lamp holds the power to brighten a heart.
True progress is not measured by speed or competition—it lies in staying true to one’s rhythm, purpose, and inner light.
This poem is a gentle reminder that even when the world races ahead, growth often blooms in silence and steadiness.
Who Says I Am Behind ?
Who says I am falling behind? Each step I take holds a seed of design. While others chase a fleeting name, I gather depth in silence’s flame.
From those ahead, I borrow their light, To guide my path through the troubled night. To those behind, I share my spark, A glow of hope through times so dark.
I rise, though storms may cloud my skies, For every pain, a truth shall rise. I may move slow, but I’m not confined— Who says I am falling behind?
Progress is not where they arrive, It is where one’s spirit stays alive. I do not count how far I’ve climbed— Who says I am falling behind?
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt invites a soft smile and a pause for thought— “What does it mean to be a kid at heart?”
It’s a beautiful question, because somewhere between growing up and getting old, many of us forget what it feels like to be young in spirit.
In the hustle and bustle of adult life, we often lose touch with the sheer joy and simplicity that once defined our childhood.
The responsibilities, deadlines, and endless to-do lists tend to consume our days, leaving little space for wonder, laughter, or play.
Yet, amid all the demands of adulthood, there exists a beautiful idea that encourages us to hold onto the essence of who we once were — the carefree, curious, and joyful child within us . To be a kid at heart is to keep that child alive, to let their laughter echo softly beneath the noise of our grown-up world.
The Wonder Within
Being a kid at heart isn’t about acting childish; it’s about preserving the sacred wonder that childhood gifted us.
Remember when everything was new? When clouds turned into mythical creatures and a cardboard box became a spaceship?
When imagination had no fences and the world was full of possibilities waiting to be discovered?
Children don’t just see the world—they feel it, taste it, live it with all their senses. They find magic in the ordinary and adventure in the everyday.
To be a kid at heart is to keep that door open—to curiosity, imagination, and awe. It means looking at life not as a checklist to complete, but as a treasure hunt waiting to unfold.
The Gift of Simple Joy
Children are masters of joy. They laugh from their bellies, dance with abandon, and find happiness in the simplest things—a balloon, a melody, a drizzle of rain.
As adults, we often forget that joy doesn’t need grand occasions. It’s not something to be achieved; it’s something to be noticed.
It might hide in the warmth of a morning cup of tea, a good song that takes you back, or the smile of a friend who listens.
To be a kid at heart is to slow down, to rediscover wonder in small moments, and to live with gratitude for life’s everyday beauty.
Imagination: The Language of the Soul
Children live in worlds painted by imagination. They dream without boundaries, believing they can fly, build castles, or speak to stars.
That’s the secret of being a kid at heart — – the courage to keep imagining. – To dream again, not despite reality but alongside it. – It’s imagination that makes artists paint, writers create, inventors innovate, and ordinary people hope.
When we imagine, we reconnect with our truest selves — free, fearless, and full of life.
Living in the Present
One of the greatest lessons we can learn from children is their ability to live completely in the moment.
They don’t dwell on the past or worry about the future; they immerse themselves fully in now.
Whether it’s building with colorful blocks or savoring an ice cream cone, they give their undivided attention to joy.
To be a kid at heart means learning that presence again — to let go of what’s behind, and to stop racing toward what’s ahead. Life, after all, is happening here and now.
Unleashing Curiosity and Celebrating Small Victories
Children are born explorers. They ask endless questions, not to challenge, but to understand.
To be a kid at heart is to nurture that same curiosity — to keep learning, wondering, and asking why.
It also means celebrating small victories. Children find pride in tying their shoelaces or drawing within the lines.
For adults, it may be finishing a long project, cooking a new dish, or simply getting through a tough day with grace.
Appreciating these little triumphs keeps our spirits alive and our hearts grateful.
Embracing Spontaneity and Resilience
Children act on impulse, not overthinking what others might say. They chase butterflies, run barefoot, and live with spontaneity.
Being a kid at heart means giving yourself permission to do the same — to take unplanned adventures, to laugh loudly, to play again.
And when life knocks you down? Remember the resilience of a child. They fall, cry, and get up again — never doubting that the world is still good.
To be a kid at heart is to heal lightly, forgive quickly, and keep choosing joy even when life feels heavy.
Openness and Love Without Measure
Children love easily. They hug without hesitation, trust without calculation, and believe the best in others.
Their hearts are open—not because they’ve never known pain, but because they still believe in goodness.
Keeping a child’s heart as an adult takes courage. It means choosing empathy over ego, kindness over pride, and love over fear. It’s this openness that makes the world gentle again.
Growing Up Without Growing Old
We all must grow up—pay the bills, honor our duties, and shoulder life’s responsibilities. – But we can grow up without growing old. – Wisdom and wonder can coexist. – Maturity doesn’t mean losing innocence; it means carrying it wisely.
To be a kid at heart is to walk through adulthood with the same bright eyes that once watched the world in amazement.
My Final Submission
So, what does it truly mean to be a kid at heart? – It means laughing freely, dreaming boldly, forgiving easily, and loving openly. – It means waking up each day with curiosity instead of complaint, finding delight in the ordinary, and hope in the impossible.
Because while time moves forward, joy is timeless.
So, dear friends, may the child within you never stop dancing, never stop wondering, and never stop believing in the simple magic of being alive.
After all, the truest measure of youth isn’t in the years we’ve lived — but in how brightly we keep our hearts aglow.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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When I got home from work, I headed out to the backyard.
Over the phone notifications of calls and texts from work, I heard a crow calling.
And what greeted me as I stepped out?
The larger crow sitting on the fence, looking at me.
Eyeing me … impatiently?
And next to the crow, sitting less than two feet away from him on the fence?
That rat bastard, peanut-thieving, rectal hair of the Devil, squirrel.
Staring straight at me, and without question doing so impatiently.
It almost felt like I’d interrupted them in the middle of some conspiratorial conference, where they hoped to come up with some plan to maximize the number of peanuts they extracted from me.
As I (and Doggo) got closer, the crow flew up to the power line, unhurriedly, and the squirrel sauntered (yes, sauntered!) down the fence top and into a low hanging branch.
Both waiting.
I left the crow’s peanuts in the open, and the smaller, sacrificial peanuts under the tree branch for the squirrel.
I do that in the hopes the squirrel won’t steal all the peanuts from the crows.
I wrote my first entry (About) last October 21, 2024, and today marked a year of it. Hence, yes, we’ve come this far, my amazing readers, and I feel so blessed to meet you all here. This site becomes welcoming because of you. Your love and support matter always, and you always bring a smile to people across the globe.
My deepest gratitude to all of you. My mind was brainstorming ideas on how I can write this blog with no bias to my readers, and I will do my best. In fact, I wrote it down two weeks ago and edited it today. My apology for this long post, and know that I struggled writing this compared to my ordinary posts.
See the struggles
I would like to mention the generous souls who extend so much help, and I’ll send my love to them. These are the amazing people behind the beautiful happenings of this site, Seven Sisters.
She’s one of the most generous souls who contribute to our projects, and she wrote beautiful poems. I enjoyed her audios about anything. She’s Penn.
He is the one who always drops comments just minutes after I publish a post, and he’s one of the kindest souls I’ve met. He’s Dittmer.
After she knew that my family was facing a serious problem, she made a very kind gesture to extend her love to us, and she also sent me a book. She’s Hitomi.
I enjoyed our conversation in the comment section with this very friendly reader, and I emailed her twice to reward her, but she doesn’t have a PayPal account. She’s Iba.
Goodness, her honesty in her posts made me giggle sometimes, and I admire her boldness. She’s Rojie.
He sent me three packages already that benefitted many students in schools here, and he gave me three books. He’s Fred.
His talent entertains me, and I appreciate his generosity always. I enjoyed our conversation, too. He’s Nico.
Sometimes, this kind person remembered his childhood reading my posts, and he wrote interesting articles, too. He’s Benjamin.
His posts are enlightening, punctuating Bible verses and his reflections about them, which I like. He’s Leon.
Because of him, I installed Google Translate in order to reciprocate his kindness to me. He’s very kind, and he wrote interesting poems. He’s Torfreno.
My sister was so happy about her gift, and she made my nephew feel cared for, too. She always catches up. She’s Edith.
God bless you, and cheers for our one year of being together so far. I’m happy to meet you all. I told my friend here to defend me if someone gets angry with this post since I can’t mention you all, but know that my heart is full of gratitude thinking of you all. You are in my prayers.
For the two readers I rewarded, I know it’s very little, but know that it is from my heart. I hope you feel special about it. Hugs and love to you all. Stay amazing.
You didn’t know. You were seen in the darkness, Heard in your muffled cries, Known where you battled within yourself.
Though you thought you were a wanderer, Walking this solitary life, On your own, That you were just a speck of dust, A minute grain in a sea of sand, Insignificant and inconsequential, Only a shadow, never the light.
What you never realized Is that You have always been more, More than the dust of the earth, More than the living beings That do not have to strive or struggle.
You are more Than the wandering souls That roam this earth, More than the loveliest beings That adorn the sky.
You thought you were wandering alone, Existing, breathing, Stealing air from someone more worthy, Maybe A mistake, a happy happenstance?
But you are more worthy Than you’ll ever know.
Every breath you breathe is precious, A gift, an offering. It was bought at a price. Not free.
Whenever you question yourself, your worth, or whether you were seen,
You were seen. You still, are seen. You were never a shadow. You just refused to open your eyes and see – you were always the light.
I’ve actually never been in jail, which I am proud of. Like not even the drunk tank for a night.
I was in the back seat of a cop car once, scared out of my mind…
My mom friends and I left our work Christmas party in a cab and decided to go through the McDonald’s drive-thru at 1 am cause, why not. Our employer gave out taxi slips to anyone leaving the party and not wanting (or able to) drive. So the ticker was ticking at the expense of our work, not our own purses.
While in the drive-thru, I noticed we were behind a police car. For some reason I decided that I need to get out of the cab and go knock on the window of the police car. The police officer rolled down the window and I said hey, just for a joke can you put me in the back of your car and scare my friends who are right there watching, and make it look like you’re arresting me?
Well he picked up right where I left off and before the words were out of my mouth he, in all seriousness, (and actually looking a little annoyed), got out and put me in the backseat.
I was so scared. I thought he didn’t find my little prank funny and was actually arresting me for being a nuisance. A tad bit drunk nuisance.
Anyway after my heart pounded for about a minute, he came back to the police cruiser and let me out and everyone had a laugh.
Some more of my most recent Ricohflex Dia photos shot on Kentmere 200.
These were taken with one of the Kiddos, who deigned to come along with me during my death march to this location, which I have photographed (and shared here) before.
While similar in style and starkness to the Apocalypse-themed images of my previous post, as well as being highway-adjacent, these photos don’t scream “End of the world!” enough to be lumped in with that group.
Graffiti under an overpass. Keep moving, nothing to see here. f16, 1/50sec
At least if there was some fallout involved, we could shelter under this. f16, 1/50sec
If the hills indeed do have eyes, so, evidently, do the overpasses… f16, 1/50sec
While the Ricoh Dia is certainly a capable camera, I am finding that its limited and no longer quite standard in some cases shutter speeds are not exactly a handicap, but do put undue constraints on my options.
Basically, it was and is an entry level camera, and I’m starting to chafe against the limitations that entails. It has driven me to research other medium format cameras, and I’ve found a number I like, but they are not as inexpensive low-priced as cameras of this ilk.
I find I don’t enjoy working with this camera as much as I’d like. My 35mm cameras have more lens options, more aperture options, and more shutter speed options. While being constrained can make you more creative in other ways, I’m just not happy when using this camera. I’m spending too much time trying to work around the limitations, and that takes me out of the moment.
The Fujifilm 645 and 690 series of cameras appeal to me, as they’re more easily handled than my RZ670, but ones in good condition are more than I can justify spending right now. And the Mamiya C330 is also tempting, but then I have to ask myself if I really want another TLR…
Instead, I think I’ll focus on trying to hone my skills with what I have before I start pouring money into another platform.
A heartfelt poem about forgiveness, freedom, and the courage to live truthfully. It reminds us that joy blooms when we let go of ego, embrace peace, and follow the melody of our own soul.
# Sing Your Own Song #
Forget the faces that gave you pain, Let gentle rain wash every stain. No envy now, no chains remain— Let life wear neither crown nor bane.
Seek forgiveness, offer it too, Let torn hearts find a brighter hue. Ego’s path leads nowhere true— Why waste this earth so brief, so new?
Time runs fast, the hours fleet, Make every bond renewed and sweet. Wrong done to you? Leave the score— Heaven’s justice evens more.
Dance in sunlight, fierce and free, Ignore the whispers, let them be. Be the fire age can’t confine— For golden souls forever shine.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt takes us into the enchanting realm of fantasy: “You have three magic genie wishes—what are you asking for?”
For centuries, the idea of a genie granting wishes has captivated the human imagination.
From the tales of Aladdin’s lamp to countless modern retellings, this magical thought never fails to fascinate us.
Just imagine stumbling upon a mysterious lamp, giving it a curious rub, and a genie appears in a swirl of golden smoke, asking, “Kya hukm hai, Aaka?”
You’ve suddenly been granted three wishes, and the possibilities are endless—limited only by your imagination.
But here’s the real question: if such unimaginable power were placed in our hands, what would we truly wish for? Would we ask for boundless wealth, eternal youth, or perhaps something far more meaningful?
For me, the choice would be both exciting and challenging.
There are so many dreams, so many longings, that narrowing them down to just three feels nearly impossible.
Still, let’s explore what my heart would desire most—and through that, reflect on the deeper dreams that connect us all.
Wish One: A World of Peace and Compassion
My first wish would be for peace—true peace—not just the absence of war, but the presence of compassion and understanding among humanity.
In today’s world, where differences of religion, race, caste, or creed often divide us, peace sometimes feels like a faraway dream.
Even within individual households, peace and happiness seem elusive, lost amid stress, misunderstanding, and conflict.
But imagine a world where empathy replaces suspicion, where kindness outweighs competition, and where children grow up learning compassion as naturally as they learn mathematics.
Peace does not mean silence or sameness—it means respect for diversity, dialogue instead of dispute, and a world where every person’s dignity is honored.
If such peace existed, the enormous resources spent on war could be used to feed the hungry, heal the sick, and educate the poor.
My genie’s first spell would infuse human hearts with compassion so that laughter and joy ring freely through every household.
A single act of kindness can ripple across borders—and perhaps, that is the truest magic our world needs today.
Wish Two: Reuniting with Loved Ones
My second wish would come straight from the heart—a longing to reunite with my beloved parents, who now dwell among the stars.
My father’s and mother’s early departure left a void in my life that nothing has ever filled.
Main chahta hoon ki maa se fir mil paoon, usse dil khol kar baatein karoon, apni zindagi ke safar aur apni uplabdhiyon ke bare mein bataoon. I know she would smile proudly, for she always wanted me to become not just a successful man, but a good human being.
And while I’m wishing, I might add one more dream from my childhood—to play a football match alongside the greatest players the world has ever known!
Imagine me on the field, facing legends like Maradona, Pelé, Ronaldo, and Messi—and performing so well that my team actually wins. That would truly be a dream come true!
Beyond personal desires, though, this wish symbolizes something deeper—a yearning for togetherness.
I would wish for a world where families stay united, where generations live and learn together, much like in Satyug, the golden age when love and peace flourished naturally.
In such a world, humanity itself would feel like one big family, working collectively to solve the challenges of our time—climate change, poverty, and disease.
With shared wisdom and compassion, we could build a future where everyone thrives in harmony and love.
This wish would not only honor my parents’ memory but also fulfill my dream of a world woven together by unity, care, and belonging.
Wish Three: Nurturing Boundless Creativity
For my third wish, I would ask for infinite creativity and inspiration—a wellspring that never runs dry. I dream of a world where artistic expression flourishes, where creativity flows freely without the barriers of fear, fatigue, or self-doubt.
Imagine walking into a studio filled with vibrant colors, unfinished sculptures, and ideas shimmering in the air like fireflies. Every brushstroke, every melody, every written word would capture the emotions that make us human.
Art would become a universal language, transcending borders and connecting hearts. It would bridge differences, ignite conversations, and nurture understanding where words often fail.
In such a world, creativity wouldn’t just decorate life—it would illuminate it. It would heal, inspire, and unite people, reminding us that imagination is one of the most powerful gifts humanity possesses.
A Lighthearted Fourth Wish
Now, dear Genie, let me remind you—there’s a long-standing tradition: Buy three, get one free! So, might I be eligible for one more wish?
“Granted,” says the Genie, raising an eyebrow. “What will your fourth wish be, Aaka?”
“Well,” I whisper mischievously, “I wish that my wife always listens to me, agrees with everything I say, and never refuses any of my requests.”
The Genie bursts into laughter. “Yeh kya maang rahe ho, Aaka!
I cannot grant that wish. Because even my own wife doesn’t listen to me! Times have changed—today, it’s husbands who dance to their wives’ tunes.
Not the other way around! Be wise, keep your wife happy, and your life will sail smoothly through every storm.”
And with that, the Genie disappears in a puff of laughter and smoke, leaving behind both wisdom and humor.
The Essence of Three Genie Wishes
The idea of having three magical wishes may sound whimsical, yet beneath the fantasy lies a reflection of what we truly value—peace, love, creativity, and connection.
These wishes reveal our shared human desires: to live in harmony, to be close to those we love, and to express ourselves freely.
While the Genie’s lamp may remain a legend, the magic it represents lives within us. Through kindness, imagination, and determination, we can fulfill many of these wishes ourselves—one thoughtful action at a time.
So, dear friends, if you were granted three magical wishes, what would you ask for?
Share your dreams in the comments below—because even in a world without magical lamps, our dreams still hold the power to change reality.
“The truest magic is not found in a lamp, but in the love, wisdom, and creativity we share with the world.”
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Why did I even think we’d get cool weather? The heat is doing what it does best, heating .
Yesterday, my husband showed me a news article about a Jain community that collectively bought 186 luxury cars, BMWs, Mercedes, and more. Apparently, it was a one-of-a-kind deal, and they received a discount worth 21 crores! (millions). The media called it “the power of community.” I just sat there trying to imagine the total cost of the deal itself.
Late Friday night, as we were walking back home, we passed by a family sleeping on the pavement. The father and three children were fast asleep, while the mother stayed awake, selling flowers and keeping watch. My husband mentioned that they’d probably take turns staying awake through the night since it’s Diwali season, people start buying flowers as early as dawn. I didn’t know that before. Watching those children sleeping peacefully amid the noise, lights, and heat tugged at my heart.
And I thought…
As I’m writing this, I can hear the sound of fireworks and firecrackers popping off. I just hope we won’t be woken up by the early-morning explosions, the kind that start at 3 or 4 a.m., as usually happens every Diwali. That’s an unwelcome alarm, but a wish filled with plenty of hope.
Life unfolds in contrasts – noise and silence, abundance and struggle, exhaustion and hope. I’m not sure if the world ever truly balances itself; there’s an overindulgence on one spectrum and the brutal simplicity of a streetside flower vendor on the other. What I do see is the quiet strength of people just trying to make it through the night.
While I was shooting the Kodak ColorPlus 200 on my Pentax K1000, I was also shooting Kentmere 200 on my Ricohflex Dia. That medium format camera is the most recent camera addition to my film camera collection (coming up on close to a year, I think), is a TLR, and has an 80mm lens.
I’ve posted about it and its pictures before. It’s a quirky camera that squeaks when I advance the film, had a housing screw come loose during this shoot (didn’t cause a light leak) and, if I turn the film advance knob the wrong way, will lead to overlapping exposures.
It’s also really easy to do double exposures on.
Too easy, as all of my double exposures have been accidental.
These shots from it put me in an apocalypse frame of mind.
Cracked concrete, overgrown weeds, desolate isolation, the feeling I’m being watched by hostile eyes as I walk around snapping pictures.
I’ve noticed lately that I’ll see something, a theme will come to mind, and then I shoot it.
Could this mean I’m developing an artistic mindset?
Or at least an artistic approach, even if the art itself isn’t fully there?
I like to think so.
Due to the dry, isolated nature of these shots, as well as their proximity to a major interstate highway, I call these The Desolation of Smog:
Not seen: the abandoned shopping cart (saw that after taking my photos) or a brave girl and her dog going for a walk as I wrapped up. f11, 1/200sec
Cracked concrete and a (temporarily) empty highway behind it. f11, 1/400sec
Every time I see this pseudo-abandoned car, it looks more and more worn down by the elements. f16, 1/50sec
I think the biggest, and possibly the scariest, takeaway I’ve gotten from these photos, is that the lack of sharpness is either due to the camera or my eyesight, and given some of the slightly fuzzy shots from my other camera, I am forced to conclude it’s probably my eyesight…
Although the fact that all my photos are slightly blurry in the WordPress editor but less so in the final result doesn’t exactly help.
I used Sunny 16 for exposure and, as always, it mostly works.
Next up: some more photos from this roll, a few shots from my 35mm Phoenix II roll, and my first pictures from the Kodacolor 100 that just came out.
Diwali: The Festival of Lights Illuminating Traditions
India, a land renowned for its vibrant cultural tapestry, celebrates a multitude of festivals, yet few shine as brightly as Diwali. Known globally as the “Festival of Lights,”
Diwali is a celebration of the eternal triumph of good over evil, light over darkness, and knowledge over ignorance.
While most associate it with the epic tale of Lord Rama’s return to Ayodhya after 14 years of exile and his victory over the demon king Ravana,
Diwali’s significance stretches far beyond this familiar story. Across India, different regions have unique legends linked to the festival, each weaving a rich narrative of devotion, morality, and community.
For instance, in West Bengal and parts of eastern India, Diwali coincides with Kali Puja, honoring Goddess Kali and her power to destroy evil.
In Gujarat, it also marks the financial new year for businesses, making it a time for settling accounts, starting afresh, and invoking prosperity.
Even the Sikh community commemorates Bandi Chhor Divas around the same time, celebrating Guru Hargobind Ji’s release from imprisonment and his return to Amritsar.
These regional variations highlight Diwali’s unifying power while embracing the diversity of India’s cultural heritage.
The festival spans three days of Celebration
The festival spans three days, each imbued with its own traditions and significance.
It begins with Dhanteras, a day dedicated to wealth and prosperity, where households perform Lakshmi Puja and purchase precious metals or utensils as a symbol of reverence and optimism.
The second day, Chhoti Diwali or Naraka Chaturdashi, focuses on cleansing and renewal. People bathe with aromatic oils, symbolically washing away sins, and light diyas to dispel darkness.
The third day, the main Diwali night, sees homes illuminated with clay lamps, candles, and electric lights, while families worship Goddess Lakshmi in the hope of blessings for fortune, success, and well-being.
Gift exchanges, feasts of traditional sweets like ladoos and kaju katli, and vibrant rangoli patterns further enrich the celebration.
While fireworks have traditionally been a hallmark of Diwali, creating visual spectacle and shared joy, their environmental repercussions are prompting a rethinking of these practices.
Lesser-known historical facts of Diwali
Interestingly, Diwali is also steeped in lesser-known historical and cultural nuances.
For example, some historians trace the festival’s origins to harvest celebrations in ancient India, marking the end of the agricultural year and the beginning of winter.
In rural areas, Diwali was historically a time to honor cows and oxen, vital to agrarian life, through ritual bathing and decoration.
Another fascinating tradition involves the worship of Govardhan Hill in certain regions of North India, commemorating Lord Krishna’s protective act against torrential rains sent by Indra, the rain god.
These layers of stories reinforce Diwali’s broader theme of protection, gratitude, and harmony with nature.
In the modern era, however, the exuberance of Diwali comes with environmental and health concerns.
Firecrackers, once seen as integral to celebration, now contribute significantly to air, noise, and plastic pollution.
Cities across India record drastic spikes in the Air Quality Index (AQI) post-Diwali, correlating with respiratory issues and environmental degradation.
These challenges underscore the importance of evolving our festive practices to protect both human health and the planet.
Celebrating Green Diwali
Embracing a green Diwali allows us to honor the festival’s spirit while caring for Mother Earth.
Simple yet meaningful choices—such as crafting rangoli from natural ingredients like rice powder, turmeric, and flower petals, or using clay diyas instead of plastic ones—can make a remarkable difference.
Clay lamps, in particular, support local artisans and decompose naturally, reducing environmental impact.
Reducing or entirely avoiding firecrackers can cut pollution by up to 40%, ensuring quieter, safer, and healthier celebrations for everyone.
Beyond the ecological perspective, Diwali is ultimately a festival of reflection and renewal.
The lights symbolize not only the triumph of virtue over vice but also the illumination of the human soul with knowledge, compassion, and kindness.
Celebrating responsibly and mindfully allows us to preserve the festival’s spiritual essence while committing to sustainability.
It’s a way of ensuring that the light we kindle during Diwali extends beyond our homes—into our communities, ecosystems, and future generations.
let us rediscover lesser-known tales of Diwali,
This Diwali, let us rediscover the festival’s lesser-known tales, respect its traditions, and embrace eco-friendly practices.
May the glow of diyas brighten our hearts, may sweets and laughter fill our homes, and may our actions honor the Earth that sustains us.
In doing so, we not only celebrate the age-old triumph of good over evil but also pledge a brighter, cleaner, and more harmonious tomorrow.
Wishing everyone a Diwali filled with joy, health, prosperity, and renewed commitment to protecting our beautiful planet.
Being the late bloomer I am, I’m realizing Sundays are truly for indulgence, and one has to do it in style. Not only is the spirit filled, but the stomach gets its fair share of rejuvenation too. Add some K-drama, and life feels almost perfect for a day. And this, right here, is my Sunday indulgence.
Sundays are for cheesecake therapy. Calories and any accompanying sadness can wait. The sadness, of course, is courtesy of the K-drama , the romance makes you want to either fall in love or fall out of it. The food spread alone can make me tear up; that’s a different kind of happy indulgence .
But while that food is a dream, what isn’t a dream is the ever-reliable combo of cheesecake + coffee. So yes, my current mood is 99% cheesecake, 1% guilt.
And that’s what Sunday is all about, blessed, stressed, but always well-desserted.
In my quest to get higher mag macro images without spending any more money, I dug out an old lens I got for my Pentax. A lens I received more than 30 years ago.
A Vivitar 75-250mm zoom lens.
That claims to be a macro lens (minimum focus, 3.2ft).
I decided to run a test. My 100mm prime macro lens versus this zoom lens.
To get results quickly, I used my digital camera. And I wasn’t too fussy about focus.
At least not towards the end, when the results were becoming self-evident.
You tell me which setup gets closer.
100mm250mm
Hmm. That’s not exactly promising, and yes, I was at 250mm, not 75mm. That minimum focusing distance really is key.
100mm, 3 extension tubes250mm, 3 extension tubes
OK, so not only does the larger minimum focus distance severely handicap the 250mm zoom lens, but this sonnuvabitch is also super heavy and unbalanced. To the point that mirror slap becomes an issue.
Yes, using a timer I could step back and wait at my leisure for the whole camera to wobble with the mirror movement.
The lens assembly (with extension tubes), is nearly 11 inches long. While that length is impressive in some arenas (ahem), not so much when it comes to cameras or handling them.
I guess I’m not gonna save myself any money, but I will be saving myself a lot of handling headaches. Not to mention backaches!
I hope this post finds you in radiant health and joyful spirits. Today, I wish to talk about something that touches every one of us—the beauty of physical exercise.
A simple question, “What is your favorite form of physical exercise?” can open a doorway to something profound: self-discovery, discipline, and balance between body, mind, and spirit.
Exercise, to me, is not a routine but a ritual—an intimate conversation between movement and mindfulness, between vitality and peace.
The Practice That Feels Like Home
Over the years, I’ve explored many forms of physical activity—morning walks that awaken the senses, cycling that fills the lungs with fresh air, and strength training that builds resilience.
Yet, if I had to choose one that feels like coming home, it would be yoga.
Yoga, for me, is poetry in motion— A harmonious blend of physical grace, mental clarity, and spiritual depth. It transcends the boundaries of traditional fitness.
It is a living art form that nourishes both body and soul.
A Symphony of Movement and Stillness
What makes yoga extraordinary is its holistic nature. While many exercises train the body, yoga trains the mind and awareness.
Each asana (posture) is a mindful expression of strength and serenity.
When I move into Adho Mukha Svanasana (Downward-Facing Dog), I feel both grounding and release; in Virabhadrasana (Warrior Pose), I discover courage and intention.
Over time, yoga sculpts not just muscle but character—it brings harmony between power and peace.
Breathing into Calm
In our restless, fast-paced world, yoga offers a treasured stillness. Through Pranayama—the art of conscious breathing—we learn to steady the mind and soothe the heart.
Just twenty minutes of mindful breathing can quiet inner turbulence, sharpen focus, and restore emotional balance.
For me, this sacred pause is life-changing. It’s not about perfection—it’s about presence.
Yoga for All Seasons of Life
Another reason yoga holds my devotion is its timeless inclusivity. It welcomes everyone, regardless of age, background, or ability.
You need no gym, no gear—only space, sincerity, and self-kindness.
Yoga meets you exactly where you are—and guides you gently to where you wish to be. That makes it more than exercise; it becomes a lifelong companion, growing with you through every stage of life.
Lessons that Flow Beyond the Mat
Yoga teaches awareness—how to listen to the body’s wisdom, how to breathe through discomfort, how to greet each day with gratitude.
This mindfulness seeps into daily living—softening our reactions, refining our posture, and reminding us to pause before rushing ahead.
It whispers a timeless truth: balance is not found; it is cultivated—moment by moment, breath by breath.
Movement as a Celebration
Of course, there’s no single path to fitness or fulfillment. Each form of exercise—running, dancing, swimming, or cycling—holds its own rhythm of joy.
What truly matters is the happiness we find in motion, the spark of aliveness that reminds us, “I am here. I am whole.”
For me, yoga is that celebration—a dance of energy, breath, and stillness, all unfolding within.
A Thought to Reflect Upon
So, when I reflect on my favorite form of physical exercise, I see yoga not merely as a practice but as a philosophy of life.
It teaches me to live with grace, balance, and compassion—and to recognize the beauty of every breath.
As an old yoga saying goes: “The body benefits from movement, and the mind benefits from stillness.”
May each of us find our own way to move with joy and breathe with peace. After all, caring for the body is not a duty—it’s a form of gratitude for the life it allows us to live.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Crashed hard after work yesterday, then woke up at about 10pm.
Didn’t get back to sleep until about 1am.
So up later much than I planned this morning (and then only because Doggo was whining at the door to come in), but still earlier than I would have liked.
Which means everything I needed to get done this morning was behind schedule.
I hate that.
I didn’t even have time to finish my coffee.
GASP!
Though I did get a decent breakfast because the Missus was kind enough to make it for me.
But the rush is over now, things have settled down, and hopefully my delayed start won’t have cost me too many opportunities (I suspect it has cost me at least one, but that’s not confirmed yet).
We’ll see if I can manage to salvage the rest of the weekend (work, I’m looking at you – don’t text me, bro!).
I’m also experimenting with font size. I find the default size too small for my tired, aging eyes. Let me know if you hate it – I can always Ctrl-+ in the browser to make it bigger for me…
“Socrates said, ‘The misuse of language induces evil in the soul.’ He wasn’t talking about grammar. To misuse language is to use it the way politicians and advertisers do, for profit, without taking responsibility for what the words mean. Language used as a means to get power or make money goes wrong: it lies. Language used as an end in itself, to sing a poem or tell a story, goes right, goes towards the truth. A writer is a person who cares what words mean, what they say, how they say it. Writers know words are their way towards truth and freedom, and so they use them with care, with thought, with fear, with delight. By using words well they strengthen their souls. Story-tellers and poets spend their lives learning that skill and art of using words well. And their words make the souls of their readers stronger, brighter, deeper.”
This is a tender reflection on friendship, nostalgia, and the timeless joy of creating together. Through brushstrokes of color and emotion, the poem captures a cherished bond—one that endures through art, memory, and the heart’s vivid canvas.
# Colors of Our Friendship #
Paint me a memory I dearly miss, With laughter’s gold and childhood bliss. Two friends at a table, hands intertwined, In worlds of color where dreams were aligned.
Brush in hand, hope bright in our eyes, Mixing the soft blues of open skies. Dipping the palette in sunlight and rain, You gift me a moment untouched by pain.
The desk is our haven, the canvas our heart, Side by side, crafting what sets us apart. A stroke for the secrets we whispered low, A hue for the promises only we could know.
Though years have passed and footprints stray far, Colors remember the rhythm we are. With every new layer, old times renew— A portrait of friendship, bright, brave, and true.
So paint me a memory, gentle and sweet, Where laughter and longing on the canvas meet.
Hmmm. What do I tell people about me when I’m still discovering myself too? What I thought I knew about myself, turns out, I didn’t really know. And what I do know? Well, I’m changing, evolving. Learning while unlearning.
Enough about me. No more answering prompts. I thought I’d just yap today about nothing. But somehow, nothing also means something… and then everything. That’s a little too philosophical for casual yapping, isn’t it?
The past two nights I went to bed early, and now I’m ready to party! Ooh, that rhymes. I wish I could still party though, but age has its ways. These days, even a simple cold completely drains me. So much for aging gracefully .
For months I was convinced I’d gained weight, but when I tried on my regular-size pants, they were loose. Now I’m wondering where that extra weight went. Mysterious vanishings of adulthood!
The Diwali holidays are on. My daughter showed me a video about math, how classroom examples are simple and direct (2 + 2), but the exam papers are chaos (70 – 5 × 9 + 60 ÷ 12). I felt her pain; I was the same. She should not inherit my math brain, we do not see eye to eye.
She also says, “Life is so hard. We’re born, but we can’t even see our own forehead.” I couldn’t argue with that logic! Today she practiced her makeup skills after ages. When she first got the kit, I thought she’d make me look pretty. Instead, she uses it to create characters, “cosplay,” she says.
The cat I was feeding hasn’t come by since the rains. I’m afraid he may have died, though I hope he just found a safer place. He always came here for food. My heart hurts thinking about him. That’s why I don’t want to care for strays, the loss is too hard. Another one had died earlier after getting hit by a vehicle. When you care and can’t control what happens, it makes coping so much harder. These animals… they become my second people.
Looks like my rambling about nothing turned into something after all. I’m so tired, I’m sure my brain’s already asleep.
Deepawali, the festival of lights, celebrates the triumph of good over evil and the awakening of inner brightness. As lamps glow in every home, they remind us to illuminate our hearts with kindness, gratitude, and hope.
May this Deepawali fill your life with peace, prosperity, and love. May every flame remind you that even the smallest light can dispel the deepest darkness.
“The Dance of Diwali Flames”
Beneath the hush of autumn’s night, The city wakes in streams of light. Diyas bloom on every sill, Each flame a song, serene and still.
Rangoli spreads its painted grace, Colours like smiles embrace each place. The scent of sweets, of saffron dreams, Floats gently down in silver streams.
Lakshmi steps in gentle tread, Where hearts are pure and hopes are fed; Her blessings, like the moon’s own beams, Fill humble homes with golden gleams.
But deeper than the festive art, One flame resides within the heart; It shines for faces we hold dear, Though far away, they still feel near.
In every spark the truth is told— That love is wealth beyond all gold; And under Diwali’s golden sky, Our souls together learn to fly.
New Daily Prompt:What is the most impressive thing you’ve done?
I invented the ultimate caffinated beverage.
I call it:
CoffTea.
(TM, patent pending, copyright IanMDudley, a doctor’s note is required for purchase, FDA approval be damned!)
Coffee brewed with tea.
And not decaf tea.
I’m also planning a line of breakfast products – along with different types of tea in the mix, I’ll also be offering instant oatmeal made with coffee, tea, or, preferably, CoffTea, instead of water.
And for lunch, instant Ramen noodles made with … you guessed it, CoffTea.
I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective mood. Today’s writing prompt question truly fascinated me — “How much would you pay to go to the moon?”
It sounds like a question meant for dreamers and stargazers, yet it carries a real possibility in today’s world. The Moon, that glowing companion we’ve watched countless nights from our balconies and rooftops, no longer feels unreachable.
Science and human curiosity have worked hand in hand to make the unimaginable almost possible.
Still, when I think about the question deeply, it’s not just about money — it’s about meaning, courage, and purpose.
The Moon — Humanity’s Eternal Fascination
For centuries, poets have written about it, lovers have confessed under it, and scientists have studied it.
The Moon has been a source of mystery, inspiration, and calm.
When Neil Armstrong set foot on it in 1969, he didn’t just land on a rock in space — he planted a seed in the human imagination.
That moment whispered to the world, “We can reach beyond what we see.”
Today, space tourism has taken that whisper and turned it into a conversation. Companies like SpaceX and Blue Origin are preparing for commercial trips around or even to the Moon.
Prices may range from a few hundred thousand to several million dollars. It sounds astonishing — almost unbelievable — but so did flying once upon a time.
Would I pay such a price? If it were just about thrill and adventure, perhaps not.
But if it were a journey of discovery — one that could change how I see life and humanity — I might be tempted to think differently.
More Than Just a Journey
Going to the Moon, in my eyes, is not simply a trip; it’s a transformation. Imagine standing on that desolate yet majestic surface, looking back at Earth — a small blue sphere shining in the vast darkness.
Astronauts say that sight changes you forever. From there, there are no borders, no divisions, no politics — just one home shared by all.
That perspective alone would be worth any price. To see our planet not as pieces of land separated by boundaries, but as a delicate, living world suspended in infinity — that would be an awakening.
If money could buy that feeling, that realization, then perhaps it isn’t an expense but an investment in wisdom and wonder.
The Cost of Curiosity
Of course, it’s not easy to justify spending a fortune on such a journey when so many urgent needs exist here on Earth.
Hunger, poverty, and climate change — our planet cries for help in many ways. Couldn’t that same amount of money serve a greater good?
That’s where the dilemma lies. Yet, every great leap humanity has ever made has come at a cost.
The explorers who first crossed oceans, the inventors who built airplanes, the dreamers who reached space — they all took risks, and often, they were criticized for it. But progress thrives on curiosity and courage.
I believe exploration and compassion can coexist. Some will dedicate their wealth to helping others; some will push boundaries to expand what is possible. Both are vital in shaping our shared destiny.
My Personal Moon
If I am to be completely honest, I may never go to the Moon physically. And that’s perfectly fine.
Each of us has our own “Moon” — a dream that calls us, a challenge that dares us, a goal that pushes us beyond our limits.
For one person, it may be writing a book; for another, it may be starting a school, healing others, or finding peace within.
The Moon, then, becomes a symbol — a reminder to dream big, to reach higher, and to never stop exploring, even if the journey happens only within our hearts.
My Final Submission
So, how much would I pay to go to the Moon? If the cost is measured in money — only what I could afford. But if it’s measured in curiosity, courage, and wonder — then I would give it all.
To step on the Moon is to step into the story of humankind — a story of endless curiosity, daring hope, and shared destiny.
Whether I make that journey or not, I find joy in simply looking at it, knowing that it’s a symbol of everything we can achieve when we dare to dream.
So tonight, as you look up at that glowing pearl in the sky, ask yourself: if you had the chance, how much would you pay to visit it — not with your wallet, but with your heart?
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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(Pic Courtesy: Google.com)
This is a soul-stirring poem about courage, dreams, and resilience. It reminds us that falling is never failure—it’s part of learning to rise higher.
With its lyrical optimism, the poem celebrates those who keep dreaming even when their wings are bruised, showing that true life burns in the fire of our aspirations.
# Wings of Fire #
I tied my dreams to fragile wings, And rose against the trembling winds. Fear whispered softly, “What if you fall?” But my heart replied, “What if I fly after all?”
Falling isn’t dangerous — It teaches the soul to rise again. What truly kills us Is the silence of forgotten dreams.
Some desires fade halfway through, Some hopes dissolve like morning dew. Yet the cruelest death of all Is to breathe… and still not feel alive.
We are not born to crawl in fear, But to taste the vastness of the sky. Let the heart keep its tender flame — For life isn’t in the beating chest, It lives in the fire of our aim.
So I’ll keep flying, even with broken wings — For danger lies not in falling, But in never daring to dream.
What’s one tiny chaos in your day that secretly makes you smile?
Of course, lazy days make me feel both rested and unproductive. That’s exactly what they’re about, aren’t they?
But since we’re talking “lazy,” and WP is being lazy too by repeating prompts, I’ve decided to make up my own.
Is there such a thing as tiny chaos? Does the mind count? Because mine is pure chaos, and yet, it conjures up memories that make me not just smile, but howl with laughter.
When I put my thinking cap on, I think of eggs. Yup, eggs.
Every morning when I make my eggs – sunny side up (also known as bull’s eye), they’re rarely perfect. Most days, the yolk splits. I’ve often wondered if that’s the day’s harbinger, a split yolk means not-so-great day, a perfect one means a beautiful day.
I’ve no idea where that logic came from, but somehow it stuck. Strange, isn’t it, how an egg’s fate could dictate the mood of my day? My mind does store a lot of nonsense, common sense seems to have only visitation rights.
And yet, there I am, watching the egg and wondering, could it really spell out how my day will go? Why should something I’m about to eat have so much say in how life unfolds? Maybe, after consumption, it’s just cooking up new ideas inside me. Food for thought, quite literally.
As ridiculous as it sounds, the idea of an egg ruining or making my day actually makes me smile. The imperfection might make me groan or panic for a second, but then I laugh, because I know I’ll enjoy it just the same.
Of course, searching for my daughter’s school things in the morning is another kind of chaos, one I greatly dislike. The night before, we keep everything ready, yet somehow by morning, they magically disappear! That’s the kind of chaos that turns moods sour, not sweet .
Maybe tiny chaos isn’t so bad, though. It keeps life from feeling too neat and predictable.
Anyway, I’ve overthought breakfast and moods again. I guess it’s time for another coffee… or a nap. I’m dozing off writing this, blame it on my annual visitor, the mighty cold .
Today’s playlist says I either need to Pour Some Sugar On Me or get off this Crazy Train. Otherwise, I might just end up needing some Bad Medicine, or maybe I’ll simply go again on my own (Here I Go Again) before The Final Countdown .
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood, surrounded by aromas that remind you of home, warmth, and happiness. Today’s writing prompt is truly delightful — “What food would you say is your specialty?”
At first glance, it may seem simple. But as I reflect, I realize a “specialty” is rarely just about cooking skills. It’s about memory, identity, emotion — it’s a story.
Childhood Favorites and First Memories
My earliest culinary memory takes me back to दाल भात और चोखा — my most loved childhood dish. जब माँ इसे परोसतीं, तो उस स्वाद में सिर्फ खाना नहीं, बल्कि प्यार और सुखद अनुभूति भी मिलती थी।
Every bite carried laughter, comfort, and the gentle rhythm of home.
Food, I believe, is a mirror of the self. Every ingredient, every spice, every gesture in cooking reflects something deeply personal. And that personal connection is what makes a dish a “specialty.”
A Shift in Flavor, A Shift in Life
After my mother passed away, the flavors of my childhood suddenly felt out of reach. मैं वह स्वाद कभी नहीं ला पाया जो माँ की थाली में होता था।
At the same time, my career took me to Kolkata, a city with its own culinary soul — one centered on fish and rice. Slowly, my specialty shifted too.
Today, it is Machh Bhat — a humble bowl of rice with fish curry, rich in memories and emotion.
The reason is simple. In those early days in Kolkata, living alone, my maid prepared a fish curry so flavorful that it became my comfort food.
Over time, I learned to make it myself. The aroma of Hilsa sizzling in Mustard oil recalls rainy afternoons, celebratory parties, and evenings shared with friends.
Yes, frying the fish in low heat slowly became a meditation, a reminder that good things — like good memories — take patience and care.
So, when asked about my specialty, I don’t just say Machh Bhat; I speak of the love, the nostalgia, and the peace it represents.
The Heart Behind the Recipe
What makes a dish special is not its complexity or decoration, but the emotions it carries. Our signature dishes are emotional heirlooms, tangible memories of the people and moments we hold dear.
Think of your mother’s special curry, your father’s Sunday breakfast, or a friend’s homemade dessert. You remember not just the taste, but the laughter, the warmth, and the togetherness that accompanied it.
When I cook Machh Bhat, I am not simply preparing food. I am recreating moments in time — the quiet anticipation of sitting down, the sound of sizzling fish, the fragrance of spices filling the air. It’s a living symphony of memory and belonging.
Cooking as a Gesture of Love
Cooking is more than a task; it is an act of giving, a silent expression of care. Our specialty dishes often carry pieces of our hearts.
When I serve Machh Bhat, I am offering my journey, my memories, and my gratitude to those who share the meal with me.
Specialty dishes evolve with life. Childhood favorites may fade, career shifts may introduce new flavors, and yet the essence remains — each dish tells a story, reflecting who we are in that moment.
More Than Just a Meal
So, when someone asks, “What food is your specialty?” don’t just name a recipe. Reflect on the memories it carries, the emotions it evokes, and the connections it creates.
For me, Machh Bhat is more than rice and fish. It is comfort, meditation, joy, and belonging.
It reminds me to savor not just flavors, but moments, stories, and people. Every meal becomes a meditation on life, love, and the simple pleasures that fill our days.
Food nourishes more than the body — it nourishes the soul. And in that nourishment lies the extraordinary, even in the most ordinary dishes.
So, take a moment, reflect, and share your culinary story. Every specialty dish is a memory, every meal a story, and every flavor a bridge to the heart.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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To me, success is like a cogwheel and it’s very difficult and maybe even impossible to make every nub fit how it should.
There’s job success, there’s success in relationships, success in the bedroom, success in the kitchen. Parenting success, student success. Financial success.
I teach my students about holistic health and I see success as being similar to that. You might have one or three areas down pat but without that fourth or fifth area thriving, are you really successful?
I suppose if I had to narrow it down and pinpoint ONE area that I saw as the truest of successes, it would be success of the mind. Someone who has their thoughts under control, who can sit with themselves and feel fulfilled and satisfied. That’s not to say they’ve never had these kinds of struggles, but they’ve figured it out, or are figuring it out.
Those who can be still.
My workplace Tues am, so pretty but please go away snow!
यह कविता उन ख्वाबों और इच्छाओं के बारे में है जिन्हें हम अपने भीतर संजोते हैं। डर और असफलताओं के बावजूद, असली खतरा तब होता है जब हम अपने ख्वाबों को मरने देते हैं और जिंदा रहकर भी अपने अंदर की आग को बुझा देते हैं।
यह कविता हौसले, उम्मीद और जीवन की सच्ची उड़ान की बात करती है।
ख्वाबों के पंख
ख्वाबों के पंख लगाकर, जब उड़ने की ठान ली थी, तो आसमान ने भी कहा — “चलो, देखता हूँ कितनी उड़ान बाकी है!”
डर तो था… हर गिरने से, हर ठोकर से, पर खतरनाक वो नहीं था — जो चोट दे गया | खतरनाक था वो पल — जब मैंने उड़ना छोड़ दिया ।
कुछ हसरतें राह में छूट गईं, कुछ अरमानों ने नींदें चुरा लीं, पर बुरा तो बस इतना लगा — कि मैं खुद से दूर चला गया।
खतरनाक नहीं था हार जाना, न ही तन्हा रह जाना, खतरनाक था वो वक्त, जब दिल ने कहना छोड़ दिया — “मुझे अब भी कुछ चाहिए…|
अब समझ आया — ज़िंदगी साँसों से नहीं चलती, चलती है उन ख्वाबों से, जो हर सुबह आँखों में मुस्कुराते हैं, और हर रात उम्मीदों में सो जाते हैं।
तो उड़ता रहूँगा… चाहे पंख जल जाएँ, पर रुकूँगा नहीं — क्योंकि खतरनाक वो दिन होगा, जब मैं ज़िंदा तो रहूँगा, पर भीतर सब कुछ मर जाएगा।
When you think of the word “successful,” who’s the first person that comes to mind and why?
When I think of the word “successful,” no one immediately comes to mind, because I don’t measure success the way the world does. If I measured it by wealth, fame, or accolades, I might point to someone well-known. But I’ve realized that true success isn’t about status.
I’m tired of thinking up another prompt, so hopefully I’m adding to last year’s. Between then and now I must’ve matured a little, but my thoughts on success haven’t changed much.
I don’t believe in this success mantra. And if I define it by the world’s standards, I’m a colossal failure. That belief could, and has, destroyed people, if not literally, then slowly from the inside out. I’m not going to let the world’s standards bully me into thinking I’m not successful, or that I have to be successful to live a fulfilling life.
Can we truly say people are living successful lives if they succeed in one aspect but fail in another? No one has it altogether. Someone may have financial success, but their personal life could be a mess. How is that a model for success?
Perhaps life is not about being successful or unsuccessful. What if it is about finding and living out our purpose, or living in community?
What if it means building and forging meaningful relationships, being good stewards of what has been placed in our hands – this earth and every living being in it? What about sharing our resources and not hoarding for ourselves, seeking harmony and understanding despite our cultural, racial, ethnic, or religious differences?
What if it means pursuing peace, laying down the ammunition and weapons within our hearts? What if it’s not about what I believe, but how I live out that belief?
What if success means forgiving the unforgivable in others because I have been forgiven first, choosing to extend grace even when it hurts and it is hard?
What if success means people finding their humanity once again, stepping out of their protective bubbles, reaching out and choosing unity over division?
What if it means living one day at a time, choosing to show up despite the mess, uncertainties, and chaos?
What if success isn’t measured by applause or recognition, but by quietly living in integrity, doing what is right when no one’s watching?
Maybe it’s not about climbing ladders, but lifting others up as we walk along the way. Maybe it’s not about being the best, but being present – fully, honestly, and humbly.
Maybe success is not something to chase, but something we cultivate, in the way we love, serve, and live.
And that’s why I don’t pressure my children to perform. It doesn’t matter what grades they score, the institutions they attend, or what they will earn and how “successful” they’ll become. What matters is how they can, or will, impact another life.
New Daily Prompt: How do you establish healthy boundaries?
After the second after-hours call of the evening, I scream bloody murder at my coworker, explaining exactly how I’ll carve them up with a spoon (“It’s dull. It’ll hurt more.”) and then wear their skin as a sleeping gown.
Then the fantasy passes, and I quietly agree to look into this latest issue, no trouble at all.
I hope this blog finds you in good health and a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt—“What makes a good neighbor?”—may appear simple, yet it touches one of the most human aspects of our lives: kindness, compassion, and community.
We often take our neighbors for granted, unaware that sometimes they can become our family away from home, our strength in moments of uncertainty, and our comfort during the hardest nights.
A few years ago, I had an experience that taught me the true meaning of being a good neighbor—an experience that remains etched in my memory even today.
At that time, I was working Bank and posted in Rajasthan, far away from my hometown. It was my first major posting, and though my wife and little son were with me, we were separated from the warmth and guidance of our elders.
Our families couldn’t visit often due to the long distance, and we were still adjusting to the culture, climate, and pace of a new place.
We call them “Thakur Sahib”
Fortunately, we had a kind Rajput family living next door—we call them “Thakur Sahib” and his wife — an elderly couple who treated us like their own children.
They would often check in on my wife and our young son when I was away for work. Their simple gestures—sending over home-cooked food, offering advice about local customs, or sharing their stories over evening tea—made us feel at home in a foreign land.
Life was running smoothly until one stormy night that tested not only our resilience but also revealed the depth of human goodness that can exist between neighbors.
That day, I had gone to Udaipur for an important meeting at our bank’s zonal office. The meeting stretched late into the evening, and by the time I left, it was already past eight.
Heavy rain lashed against the windshield as I started my journey back home, determined to reach by midnight so I could dine with my family.
The road was long—three to four hours of rough terrain, thunder, and downpour—but the thought of home kept me going.
My heart sank.
When I finally reached around midnight, drenched and exhausted, I was startled to see the house locked.
My heart sank. My wife and five-year-old son were supposed to be inside, yet the silence around the house was chilling. I stood there under the dim porch light, rain still falling, not knowing whom to ask or what to do. Anxiety and dread began to creep in.
Just then, I heard a door open next door. It was Thakur Sahib. His calm voice cut through the storm, “Don’t worry, your son is with us. He’s fast asleep.”
Relieved but still trembling, I asked, “But where is my wife?”
He gently replied, “She’s in Mahaveer Hospital. Don’t panic—she’s stable now.”
Without wasting another second, I rushed to the hospital, which was about two kilometers away.
Those were days before mobile phones, so I had received no message or call about what had happened. My mind was clouded with fear as I drove through the rain.
I finally learned the truth
When I reached the hospital, I finally learned the truth—my wife had suffered a miscarriage. The child we were waiting for would never see the world.
It was one of the hardest moments of my life. But what stood out in that painful night was not just the tragedy—it was the compassion that surrounded us.
Even at that late hour, I found that several of my colleagues from the bank were already there. They had completed all the formalities for the operation, comforted my wife, and stayed by her side until I arrived.
And when I returned home days later, it was again our elderly neighbors—the Thakur couple—who cared for my recovering wife and helped us regain our strength.
They brought food, sat with her for hours, and treated our son like their own grandchild. In their kindness, I saw the reflection of everything good that humanity stands for.
Years have passed since that incident, but every time our wedding anniversary comes around, that night replays in my memory—not as a moment of sorrow, but as a lesson in compassion.
It reminds me that good neighbors are not defined by proximity of walls but by closeness of hearts.
So, what makes a good neighbor? It’s not wealth, status, or culture—it’s empathy, respect, and presence.
A good neighbor notices when something is wrong, offers a helping hand without being asked, and treats your family’s happiness and safety as part of their own.
They understand the delicate balance between giving space and offering support.
True neighbors are rare treasures
In an age where people often live behind locked doors and digital screens, true neighbors are rare treasures. They turn unfamiliar places into homes, strangers into family, and adversity into shared strength.
If the world could learn to be as kind as a good neighbor, perhaps every home would feel like a haven of peace.
So next time you greet the person next door, remember—your small act of kindness might one day become the light in someone’s darkest night.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I think it depends on where you are in your life, as far as what constitutes good neighbours. My answer today is probably very different than it would have been twenty years ago.
Twenty years ago a young family moved into the house across the street from us, (us being myself, my kids and my ex-husband). At that time I had just a daughter and a son. This family also had a daughter and a son, almost the exact same ages as my kids.
I took over something I had baked, I can’t remember what and she returned my plate with chocolate chip cookies. The kind where the dough is already made and kept in the refrigerator I’m sure of it.
Anyway we all became fast friends. Neighbourly friends but friends just the same. The kids ran back and forth between our house and theirs. We got babysitters and socialized on weekends together.
Her kids became like my own kids and I know she thought the same of mine. It was bliss.
I had a third child and two years later she had a third child. Those two third children became fast friends as well, despite the age difference. Cordelia loved having someone littler than her to boss around and entertain her.
In 2009 we were invited with friends to the Dominican Republic and we invited these neighbours to come along. There was a large group of us and overall we had a great time.
Eventually my marriage ended as did theirs. The kids are all still good friends, for the most part which I love to see. But as for the four of us parents, we all drifted apart.
I believe she slept with my ex after I moved out and her ex was very angry about it. I could care less. He still lives in the house across the street from where my ex husband lives but now they don’t even look at each other much less say hi or get together for a beer.
I will still say hi and stop to chat with him (the former neighbour) if I see him and I would her too but she moved to another province.
Nowadays I’m not interested in getting to know neighbours beyond hi over the fence or from the driveway. Maybe I’m once bitten twice shy? Or just way less sociable. It’s probably that.
My parents (Dad holding my niece Adria) and Bella-Lena in a playpen, must be 2002-ish
I spoke a bit too soon. It’s hot, biting, throat-drying hot. They said this winter would be colder, but if this is the kind of heat we’re getting now, I’ve lost all hope. Meanwhile, back home, the cold came much earlier. My niece shared a photo showing the contrast between last year and this year, and what a difference! I’m not sure if it’s sleet, frost, or maybe even snow covering the ground, and it’s only October. What will December look like?
I’m also glad the rains have finally stopped, for once. Did it overstay? Now I actually have a chance to dress up and not look as unkempt as I did during those endless wet days . Of course, it won’t be long before I start ranting about the heat again. Some of us are just hard to please.
I’m so far behind on my blogs, trying to catch up as much as I can. At this rate, I’ll go at my own pace, slow and steady.
The government has cut GST (which means it was possible all along, or maybe it shouldn’t have been so high to begin with). They say prices of goods will go down, but I don’t see this happening with food or essentials. Milk and eggs haven’t reduced; in fact, milk went up by another ₹2. Prices seem to have dropped for automobiles, garments, and other luxuries. Apparently, we eat vehicles and clothes now, since they’re treated like essentials we can’t live without! Realistically, how much shopping can one person do? And when did buying a vehicle become more important than affording our daily bread?
I’ve yet to see the real benefits promised for the common man. My husband laughs whenever I ask where the GST “benefit” went. Sometimes I wonder if cutting GST during the festive season is just a ploy to encourage more spending from people already burdened by the high cost of living. Something to think about?
Diwali is just around the corner, and I’m looking forward to those few days of school holidays. Oh, to get some extra shut-eye . I love how the streets and homes start to glow, the festival of lights has such an infectious energy. Even though it’s not a festival we celebrate, you can’t help but get swept up in the warmth of it all. Or maybe it’s just the aroma of sweets wafting through the air, tempting and teasing my senses .
Life, weather, and prices, none of them ever stay steady. Thank heavens for sweets I can inhale and admire, and naps, the only constants worth counting on .
This poem is a celebration of emotion and self-expression through art. Each hue reflects a different facet of the artist’s inner world—passion, hope, courage, and wonder—woven together in a dance of brushstrokes.
This connects me with the canvas, where every color tells a story and every painting becomes a reflection of the soul.
Colors of My Soul
Crimson whispers of passion, Golden rays of hope, Emerald dreams of tomorrow, And indigo shadows of memory.
Every brushstroke is a heartbeat, Every hue, a fragment of me. Lavenders of laughter, Ochres of courage, Azure tides of wonder— All dancing on the canvas of my soul.
In these colors, I live, I falter, I rise, And in every painting, my spirit finds its voice.
A good neighbor is one who wouldn’t mind me dropping by with a plate for some of those delectable sweets… the aroma alone is too tempting! I’m guessing they’re getting plenty of orders. Unfortunately, my neighbor gives off “if looks could kill” vibes, so I just stand at my door and inhale the aroma instead .
When we think of neighbors, it’s usually the people living next door who come to mind. But over the years, I’ve come to realize that a neighbor could be anyone, anywhere. The parable of the Good Samaritan drives home this point, kindness and compassion don’t need fences to define them.
For me, good neighbors are the ones who constantly show up. They’re the people who’d drop everything and rush to help, who check in just because. They notice when the lights have stayed off too long or when the laughter has gone missing. They see beyond walls and addresses, because being a neighbor isn’t about proximity, it’s about presence.
Sometimes they try your patience, but they’re also the ones ready to lend an ear without judgment. They respect your peace but appear with food when you’re just too lazy to cook .
And personally, one of the best tests of a good neighbor? When they dislike the same people you do . Oh, and they share a bit of gossip too, because if you claim you don’t gossip, well, you’re just pretending (and maybe a little boring).
Maybe being a good neighbor isn’t just about living side by side. It’s about seeing someone’s need and stepping in, no matter how small the gesture. It’s remembering that we’re all just trying, surviving, and hoping, together.
I could try going out of the house without makeup on I suppose. But why would I?
My face is no longer young and fresh. It needs all the help it can get. And anyway I was kind of a late bloomer to wearing make-up so I feel like it’s still kind of a fun thing.
I’d give anything for natural beauty. Mascara and lip gloss and out the door? You lucky people.
Then again I really do believe in makeup. I see women without any makeup on, who I really think could benefit from some, just a tad, and I imagine putting it on them. I imagine how much better they would look.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and in good health. Today’s writing prompt is truly fascinating: “What major historical events do you remember?”
It is a question that invites not only recollection but reflection — on how the tides of history have touched our lives, shaped our societies, and lingered quietly in our memories.
For those of us who have lived through many decades, history is not just a textbook chapter but a series of lived moments — moments that once vibrated with excitement, fear, or hope.
Each of us carries within us a small museum of memories, from local happenings to world-changing events.
Let me revisit a few milestones that many of us may remember vividly — and some lesser-known stories behind them.
The Green Revolution and Growing Modern India
The 1960s and 70s witnessed another kind of transformation — the Green Revolution, led by visionaries like Dr. M.S. Swaminathan.
It turned India from a food-deficit country to a self-sufficient one. The success was so remarkable that within just a decade, wheat output doubled, and Punjab became the granary of India.
Yet few people know that the seeds of this movement were imported from Mexico and that its pioneer, Norman Borlaug, first tested them under Indian conditions at the Indian Agricultural Research Institute before launching the program nationwide.
It was one of those historical moments when global cooperation and local wisdom worked hand in hand.
The Moon Landing: A Global Memory
Every generation shares some universal memories, and one such event was the 1969 Moon Landing.
Even those who didn’t have televisions recall crowding around radios to hear Neil Armstrong’s voice announcing mankind’s first step on the Moon.
To many, that moment symbolized the height of human achievement — proof that curiosity and courage could overcome all limits.
Interestingly, less known is that Armstrong’s heart rate spiked to 150 beats per minute during the moon descent — a testament to the intense pressure and fragility of that mission.
The computer onboard had only 64KB of memory, less than what we use in a simple smartphone app today.
The Emergency: A Nation Paused
In India, the Emergency of 1975–77 remains one of the most controversial periods in our democracy.
Civil rights were curtailed, newspapers censored, and political opponents imprisoned. Those years taught us how precious democracy truly is.
Many of us remember whispered conversations and the eerie quietness that hung in the air when freedom of speech was temporarily suspended.
Few recall, however, that one of the earliest forms of resistance came not from politicians, but from underground student organizations that circulated hand-written newsletters and pamphlets, keeping the spirit of free thought alive.
The Fall of the Berlin Wall
The world rejoiced on November 9, 1989, when the Berlin Wall — long a symbol of division — finally crumbled.
Across television screens, people witnessed citizens from both sides embracing, laughing, and weeping with relief.
This historic moment resulted from a confluence of factors: growing public protests and mass demonstrations in East Germany, a mistaken announcement about eased travel restrictions by an East German official,
And the broader political thaw encouraged by Mikhail Gorbachev’s reforms in the Soviet Union.
Together, these pressures culminated in a spontaneous breach of the wall, soon followed by its official dismantling.
That night marked more than the physical fall of a barrier; it symbolized the end of the Cold War and a profound psychological victory over decades of fear, separation, and suspicion.
Interestingly, the wall’s collapse was not the outcome of a planned government reform, but rather a bureaucratic misunderstanding.
When a spokesman declared that East Germans were “free to travel,” he was referring to movement with proper approvals — yet the phrase was misinterpreted as immediate freedom.
Within hours, thousands rushed to the checkpoints, and bewildered border guards, with no clear orders, simply opened the gates.
The Digital Revolution
For those who witnessed the world before the internet, the Digital Revolution feels nothing short of miraculous.
Personal computers, then mobile phones, and finally the internet transformed every aspect of human life.
The way we communicate, learn, and create has changed beyond recognition within a single generation.
It is remarkable to think that when the first email was sent in 1971, hardly anyone predicted that billions would one day carry a device in their pocket more powerful than the computers that sent astronauts to the Moon.
The Pandemic We All Endured
Most recently, the COVID-19 pandemic became a shared chapter of global history.
Empty streets, masked faces, and the haunting silence of locked cities will remain vivid in memory.
Yet amid the fear, acts of kindness, solidarity, and resilience reminded us of the unbreakable human spirit. Health workers, scientists, and ordinary citizens became the heroes of our time.
A lesser-known fact is that several nations saw dramatic environmental recovery during lockdown months — cleaner rivers, clearer skies, and wildlife returning to urban spaces, showing how swiftly nature can heal when given a chance.
The Dawn of Independence
For me, the most important Historical event was India Partition. Yes, Indians born before or shortly after 1947, the air of freedom that came with Independence Day remains unforgettable.
August 15, 1947, was not merely a change of flag but a rebirth of national identity. People celebrated with tears of joy, temple bells rang across the land, and streets echoed with chants of “Jai Hind!”
Yet, behind that joy lay pain — the anguish of Partition, when millions crossed borders in search of home and safety.
A lesser-known fact is that India’s first Independence Day speech by Jawaharlal Nehru was delivered close to midnight because, according to astrologers, August 14 was viewed as inauspicious.
Thus, the historic “Tryst with Destiny” address was intentionally timed after midnight to usher in a new and auspicious hour.
Reflecting on Memory and Meaning
Remembering historical events is more than a nostalgic exercise. It helps us understand who we are — witnesses to the unfolding story of humanity.
Each event, whether global or local, becomes a thread in the larger tapestry of human experience. Some evoke pride, some pain, but all teach us the profound truth that time never truly erases memory; it only reshapes it.
So, dear readers, what major historical events do you remember?
Perhaps your memories are of a school flag-hoisting day, a family huddled around a radio during a war bulletin, or your first experience using the Internet.
Whatever the event, it is worth recalling — because history is not just what happened, but what we remember of it.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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No matter how many peanuts I provide, the crows approach each one greedily.
They always scarf down two at once.
And, if available, attempt a third.
It probably says a lot about me that I derive no end of amusement watching them try and fail to pick up that third peanut while their beaks are already locked open with the two they’ve got.
And in this case, they were small, single nut shells. The double / triple nut shells are even funnier.
This poem celebrates the simple yet profound moments that bring happiness to life. From the warmth of the morning sunshine and the nostalgia of old melodies to peaceful walks in nature,
It serves as a gentle reminder that true joy lies in the small, everyday treasures that nourish both the heart and soul.
My Little Joys
It’s in the sunshine on my balcony, Soft golden light that sets me free. Old songs that lift my weary soul, make my scattered heart feel whole.
Writing poems that touch my heart, Turning fleeting thoughts into my art. Friends like you, who make life bright, Add laughter, love, and gentle light.
A walk through trees, a whispering breeze, Nature’s whisper that makes me freeze. My granddaughter’s sweet, sparkling eyes, Like tiny stars in the morning skies.
A steaming cup, a Blog I write, A painted dream in colors bright. These little joys, both near and free, Are the treasures that nourish me.
There’s that saying, never say never. I had to scratch my head thinking what “first” I’d even want to try at this age, when the bones start creaking and exhaustion creeps in ever so subtly .
So I went with something realistic. I’d like to explore the city – on my own.
I’ve been living here for over 20 years, yet somehow, I’m not as familiar with it as I should be. Maybe it’s time to wander down the streets I usually rush past (or never ventured into), sit in a random café, or just people-watch without an agenda.
The city has attractions I’ve heard about but never visited. When I was working, it was all about work, and now that I’m at home, it’s still about work and people too . We really do nothing but work, don’t we? And then life comes in between .
I think it would be a mini adventure to explore the city and also maneuver the language barrier. Unfortunately, this unity in diversity seems to be creating diverse regional problems we don’t need. Every state is hankering to make their regional language mandatory. As if language or regionalism alone shows how much we belong? But that’s a topic that deserves its own rant .
Back to the city, a few new attractions have popped up. I figure it’s high time I familiarize myself and rediscover this place that’s been my home for two decades. Honestly, I bet a tourist knows the city better than I do .
And if I get lost in translation or direction, well, that’s one way to call it a misadventure. Still, the best “firsts” aren’t grand adventures; they’re rediscoveries, right where we already are.
As brave as I’m trying to sound, I’ll admit, I’m hesitant to brave the crowds. Oh, to love these four walls a little too much!
Life has a way of asking us questions in moments we least expect. Recently, I came across a simple yet profound question: “What are you most proud of in your life?”
At first, I thought about achievements—degrees earned, career milestones, or public recognition.
But as I sat quietly, letting my thoughts wander, I realized that the answer isn’t always found in trophies or accolades.
Often, it hides in the small, quiet moments where we’ve chosen courage over fear, kindness over anger, and growth over comfort.
I remember a time when life felt particularly heavy. I had faced a series of setbacks—personal and professional—that shook my confidence.
It was during those days that I discovered a truth: pride doesn’t come from perfection; it comes from rising, again and again, even when the odds are stacked against you.
I remember one evening, sitting alone in my room, reflecting on all I had endured. Instead of succumbing to frustration, I chose to write down the lessons hidden in my struggles.
That simple act of reflection became a turning point. I realized that my resilience, my ability to keep moving forward despite fear and doubt, was something I could truly be proud of.
Pride is in the small act
Another moment that fills me with pride isn’t tied to any public recognition but to a simple act of empathy.
A close friend was going through a difficult period, battling challenges I could barely imagine. I listened, without judgment, offering my presence when words seemed inadequate.
Months later, they told me that my support had made a real difference in their life.
That’s when I understood another dimension of pride: it comes from the impact we have on others, from nurturing relationships and lifting others when they stumble.
I’ve also grown proud of the little victories over my own habits and fears. There were times I let impatience, anger, or self-doubt control my decisions.
And then there were moments when I paused, reflected, and consciously chose a better response.
Every time I replaced reaction with thoughtfulness, judgment with understanding, or inaction with courage,
I planted seeds of personal growth. These seeds didn’t always bloom immediately, but over time, they shaped the person I am today.
What I’ve learned is that pride is not about boasting or comparing ourselves to others. True pride is reflective—it’s about honoring our journey, acknowledging our struggles, and celebrating the small victories that define our character.
It’s about recognizing that life’s beauty often lies in perseverance, compassion, and authenticity, rather than in public applause.
True pride lies in the invisible moments
So, when I ask myself, “What am I most proud of?”, the answer is clear.
I am proud of the resilience that has helped me navigate life’s storms, the empathy that has allowed me to support others, and the continuous pursuit of growth that has shaped my character.
I am proud of every moment I chose courage, integrity, and love over fear, compromise, or indifference.
And most importantly, I am proud that I continue to strive for improvement, understanding that life is a journey, not a destination.
My Final Submission
Dear friends, I invite you to reflect on this question for yourself. Pause for a moment, look back at your journey, and identify what truly fills you with pride.
You might discover that your proudest moments are not the ones celebrated by the world but those quietly lived in alignment with your values and purpose. And that, perhaps, is the most profound source of pride we can ever know.
And finally, I would say that being proud is not about what we have accumulated but about the courage, compassion, and growth we have cultivated along the way.
It is a reminder of our resilience, a celebration of our journey, and a guiding light for the path ahead.
So today, take a moment to reflect, smile, and honor yourself—not for what others see, but for the life you’ve courageously lived. Because in the end, that is what truly matters.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I liked Sadje’s Sunday Poser and something interesting happened today so just thought I might link that to her pose. I did reply to her post. Yes, I do answer to a lot of WordPress prompts which are mostly recycled. I thought I remembered what I wrote but the truth is I do not remember […]
As soon as I read the prompt I rested my head back on the couch where I’m sitting, rolled my eyes and let out an “ugghhh”. Why do we have to be so serious? Who is asking such serious yet silly questions?
We all know what people will say, what else is there to say? Hard work, integrity, honesty…blah blah blah.
Beyond that, I try to be present and live in the moment. But I need constant reminding to do it.
Unfortunately, winter arrived last night. The snow is still falling as I type. I am hoping tomorrow will be a snow day and school canceled. I would love that.
Sid and our dog absolutely love the snow and are having a blast outside playing in it. I did a workout this morning and shoveled snow so hopefully that offsets the snacks I’ve been enjoying this holiday weekend.
Besides the big turkey dinner, I’ve been eating Buffalo Chicken Dip like there’s no tomorrow. Also ‘Smores, toasted baguette with whipped feta and roasted cherry tomatoes.
Could barely open the back door this morningSid enjoying a ‘smore
What code do you pretend to live by (and which one you actually do)?
Today’s prompt is quite serious for a Monday morning. I’m still recovering from Sunday, and now you want me to talk principles? Less seriousness on Mondays, please! I’m twisting this repeat question (check out last year’s if you’re curious), basically answering without really answering. Am I not smart?
One of the codes I try to live by is ‘staying calm’ . Anyone familiar with the daily battles of a strong-willed little girl and an occasionally hormonal teen knows how hilarious that aspiration is.
In my head, I practice staying ‘calm and composed’… but the kids seem to have a radar for when I’m calm, and somehow they make it their mission to disturb my peace . Most days, I have to make myself heard (translation: shouting). I’m fairly confident I could rival any Disney villain. Sometimes I wonder if they know exactly when I’m serene, just to test me.
The worse part? I’m supposed to model calmness for my little girl when she’s upset. I’m such a bad role model . Can we blame the hormones when I fly off the handle?
My aspirational rule is clear, but reality… well, that’s better left unsaid.
What I actually live by? I want my children to believe that goodness still prevails. I try to be gracious and non-judgmental, basically, trying to teach them that even when mistakes happen, people can learn, grow, and yes, forgiveness is free and never off the menu (thank you Jesus, remember – forgive seventy times seven ).
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and peaceful mood. Today’s writing prompt caught my attention the moment I read it: “What’s the biggest risk you’d like to take — but haven’t been able to?”
At first, I smiled. Then I paused. And as I sat quietly with this question, I realized how deep it truly is. Because each of us, in our own way, carries a dream — something we long to do, yet hesitate to pursue.
Risk is an interesting word. It carries both excitement and fear. It invites us to step forward but warns us of the fall.
It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff — the view ahead breathtaking, the drop below uncertain.
“Courage doesn’t silence fear — it learns to walk beside it.”
The Risk of Living Authentically
If I’m being honest, the biggest risk I’d like to take — but haven’t fully taken yet — is to live completely and fearlessly from the heart.
To live authentically sounds simple, but in truth, it asks for great courage. It means walking away from expectations, opinions, and fears that have quietly shaped our choices.
It means saying “yes” to what truly lights us up, even if it makes no sense to the world.
There are moments when I’ve followed my heart — and they’ve been some of the most fulfilling experiences of my life.
Yet there are also times when I’ve held back, wondering whether the timing was right, or whether I was ready. The truth is, we’re rarely ever “ready.” We become ready as we go along.
Why We Hold Back
So why do we hesitate? Because risk exposes us. It makes us vulnerable to failure, judgment, or disappointment.
We fear losing the familiar comfort of what we already know — even if that comfort sometimes limits our growth.
But deep down, we all know this: the things that scare us most often hold the keys to our greatest transformation.
Sometimes, I imagine what life would feel like if we stopped overthinking and simply trusted our instincts — if we created, spoke, and lived with full-hearted honesty. Would it be easy? No. Would it be worth it? Absolutely.
“Comfort protects you; courage transforms you.
The Whisper of Fear
Fear, in many ways, is a quiet guardian. It doesn’t always want to stop us; it just wants to protect us from pain.
Yet, the irony is that by avoiding risk, we often end up protecting ourselves from the very experiences that could have helped us grow.
Every time I’ve taken a step that frightened me — whether it was writing something personal, taking on a new challenge, or expressing my feelings openly — I’ve discovered a part of myself I didn’t know before.
It’s as if life keeps rewarding us for being brave, not perfect.
“Every risk is a conversation between fear and faith.”
Life Is a Risk Worth Taking
When I reflect deeply, I realize that life itself is the greatest risk we all take. Every day we wake up, we trust that things will unfold in ways we can handle.
We love people, knowing hearts can change. We dream, knowing that not every dream will come true. Yet we continue — because without risk, there is no discovery.
Maybe the biggest risk is not about doing something extraordinary. Maybe it’s simply about being true to who we are — about letting our hearts speak louder than our fears.
Taking That Step
So what would happen if we finally took that risk we’ve been avoiding?
Perhaps we’d stumble at first. Perhaps not everything would go as planned. But we’d learn. We’d evolve. And we’d feel alive in a way that comfort could never offer.
Sometimes the universe waits patiently for us to move — just one step forward — and then everything begins to align.
The journey may be uncertain, but so is standing still. Between the two, I’d rather walk the uncertain road that leads to growth than remain in the safety of what I already know.
“Your heart already knows what’s worth the risk.”
A Thought to Leave You With
Dear friends, I believe each of us has a “risk not yet taken” — a quiet dream waiting patiently for its turn.
Maybe it’s writing that book, starting that journey, forgiving someone, or simply believing in yourself again.
The question isn’t whether we’ll succeed. It’s whether we’ll dare.
As I write these words, I remind myself that life doesn’t wait for perfect moments — it blossoms in brave ones. And maybe, just maybe, the risk we’ve been too afraid to take is the one that will lead us back to who we truly are.
So here’s to courage, to faith, and to the beautiful risks that shape our stories.
Friendship was witnessing another’s slow drip of miseries, and long bouts of boredom, and occasional triumphs. It was feeling honored by the privilege of getting to be present for another person’s most dismal moments, and knowing that you could be dismal around him in return. ~Hanya Yanagihara
Book: A Little Life
Be slow to fall into friendship, but when you are in, continue firm and constant ~ Socrates
So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them. ~Sylvia Plath
I came across these quotes today, and though they seem like very different thoughts at first, they all speak of something deeply similar. To me, they’re about friendship – the real kind, the one that invites us to be open, vulnerable, and completely ourselves.
It’s reaching out and saying, “Here I am,” while also allowing ourselves to be held when needed. True connection happens when we make space for others to unfold, to share their stories, struggles, and quiet joys, and in turn, we feel safe enough to do the same.
Friendships, like all meaningful relationships, are forged in the fire. When we choose to walk through that fire together, through the boredom, the laughter, the heartbreak, and the healing, we don’t just stand by each other; we honor one another in the truest sense.
Every year on October 12, the world observes World Arthritis Day, an initiative that began in 1996 to raise global awareness about one of the most widespread yet misunderstood conditions — arthritis.
Despite its prevalence, arthritis often remains hidden beneath smiles, ignored by the unaffected, and underestimated by society at large.
The Arthritis Foundation continues to champion this day annually, urging us all to better understand the disease that silently affects half a billion people worldwide.
As a senior citizen myself, this day holds personal significance. Many of us in our later years have either experienced arthritis firsthand or have loved ones who live with it daily. But it’s important to remember — arthritis doesn’t just affect the elderly. It impacts children, young adults, and middle-aged individuals, sometimes as early as infancy. Let’s explore the realities of this disease, why it deserves more attention, and some lesser-known facts that shed light on its true nature.
The Global Picture: More Than Just “Joint Pain”
Arthritis is not a single disease but an umbrella term that covers over 100 different types of joint and musculoskeletal disorders, collectively known as Rheumatic and Musculoskeletal Diseases (RMDs). These range from the common osteoarthritis to the autoimmune rheumatoid arthritis (RA) and psoriatic arthritis (PsA), among others.
The statistics are staggering:
500 million people worldwide live with arthritis.
Nearly 60 million adults and children in the U.S. are affected — that’s roughly 1 in 4 adults.
Arthritis is the No. 1 cause of disability in the U.S., yet only 7% of people knew this, according to a 2018 Harris Poll.
It accounts for almost 1 million hospitalizations annually.
Among adults with arthritis, 47% have at least one other chronic condition, such as diabetes or heart disease.
This disease is not only physically painful — it carries emotional and financial consequences. The inability to move freely, work efficiently, or live without pain can erode one’s sense of independence and dignity. And yet, because arthritis isn’t always visible, many people fail to grasp its severity.
Navigating the Digital Maze
In today’s fast-paced digital world, people living with arthritis or other RMDs face an overwhelming sea of information. While technology offers empowerment, it also breeds confusion. The internet is flooded with advice, home remedies, and sometimes, misinformation. Sorting fact from fiction can be daunting.
This is where trusted medical organizations and evidence-based resources play a crucial role. Patients need credible information to make informed decisions — not quick fixes or miracle cures. Collaboration between patients and healthcare professionals remains the cornerstone of effective management.
The Emotional Burden
Arthritis is often called an invisible disease — its pain doesn’t always show, yet it deeply affects daily life. Chronic pain can lead to fatigue, sleep issues, and even depression. Many individuals silently battle feelings of isolation or frustration when they can’t do simple tasks they once took for granted.
The emotional toll is as significant as the physical one. Support from family, friends, and patient communities can make a world of difference. Empathy and awareness are as vital as medical treatment.
Lesser-Known Facts About Arthritis
It’s not just one disease: There are more than 100 types of arthritis, and each affects the body differently.
Children can get arthritis:Juvenile idiopathic arthritis (JIA) affects thousands of children globally — some as young as a few months old.
Weather can influence symptoms: Many arthritis sufferers claim their pain intensifies with humidity or falling barometric pressure — and some research supports this link.
Exercise helps, not hurts: Low-impact exercises like yoga, swimming, and cycling can actually ease joint pain and improve flexibility.
Diet plays a role: Anti-inflammatory foods like berries, leafy greens, and fatty fish (rich in omega-3) can help manage symptoms, while processed and sugary foods may worsen inflammation.
It affects more women than men: Women are three times more likely to develop rheumatoid arthritis.
The mind-body connection matters: Stress can trigger inflammation and worsen symptoms, so mindfulness and relaxation techniques can aid overall well-being.
A Senior’s Reflection
Having seen many friends and peers struggle with arthritis, I realize that awareness is only the first step. What’s truly needed is understanding and empathy. The stiffness, pain, and fatigue aren’t signs of weakness — they are reminders of human resilience. Every person living with arthritis fights a daily battle that isn’t always visible.
As a senior citizen, I’ve learned that while aging is inevitable, suffering in silence doesn’t have to be. Through awareness, early diagnosis, and lifestyle management, life with arthritis can still be active, meaningful, and fulfilling. Movement, mindfulness, and medical care — these are our best allies.
A Call to Awareness
On this World Arthritis Day 2025, let’s renew our commitment to spreading awareness and compassion. Let’s talk about arthritis — not just on October 12, but throughout the year. Support research, share accurate information, and listen to those who live with this condition.
Arthritis may not have a cure yet, but understanding, awareness, and care can be powerful medicines in themselves. Together, we can make the invisible pain visible — and bring hope to millions worldwide.
At this moment I’m procrastinating. I should get my butt in gear and get dressed and put my face on. But I’m relaxing on the couch in my pajamas, doing as little as possible. Just hanging out with Sid. The three big kids (adults) are still sleeping.
It’s the Thanksgiving long weekend here and the weather is being extreme. Yesterday was unusually warm, it got up to plus sixteen degrees Celsius which is very odd for nearly mid October up here. Yet we’re also under a snowfall warning. Temps are cooling down today and we’re supposed to get rain which will turn to snow and they’re forecasting up to 30 cm of it! That’s crazy!
I am cooking a simple Thanksgiving meal today. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy and carrots. Oh and Bella-Lena wants Shepherd’s Pie for some reason, which is usually a roast beef accompaniment but whatevs, we’re making it anyway.
Clint’s away right now so it’s just myself and my four kids, which I am enjoying immensely. A very chill weekend. The kids are going to carve pumpkins this afternoon and it’s been forever that they’ve all four been here to do that.
If I had to name one thing I am thankful for, it’s my four kids. I’m so proud of them and love them so much. Words could never express how grateful I am to get to be their Mom.
Taz, Sid, Bella-Lena & I yesterday (Cordelia had to work)Pisew Falls is beautiful in every seasonCrazy warm weather…but, here comes the snow! We’re about to be buried apparently.
Things I should be doing but… no excuses required, I’m the master of procrastination.
What I’d like to do –
Get some natural vitamin D, go walking… lol, when I actually start waking up just as the sun peeks through. Watch the sunrise or sunset without taking a photo, I truly want to do this. Smell the coffee. Jump in those muddy puddles (we have quite a variety here ). Dance in the storm. Unplug – from technology and thinking . Chase butterflies – metaphorically or literally. Get drenched in the rain just because it feels right (provided I don’t catch a cold after ). Write a letter I’ll never send, hmm . Sing to my reflection, or to the coffee mug. I could make use of those vocals besides shouting at the kids. Do something my inner child would squeal about. Wonder if doing more of that might make my daughter roll her eyes at me. Spend a day offline, no scrolling, no comparing, just being. Now that could be the joke of the century. Dance with my shadow, I should seriously try this. Start a conversation with “I’ve always wanted to ask…” (oooh, imagine that one ). And maybe even make up my own holiday, International Day of Doing Nothing Important.
At this rate, I’ll have to make a list just to get this list started.
यह कविता जीवन और मृत्यु के बीच की उस क्षणभंगुर दूरी को दर्शाती है जहाँ इंसान अपने अस्तित्व पर विचार करता है।
मौत का सामना करते हुए भी कवि जीवन की सुंदरता, अपनत्व और नई शुरुआत का संदेश देता है। अंत में सपना जीवन की सच्चाई में बदल जाता है — जहाँ भय नहीं, केवल नई उम्मीदें हैं।
“मौत और ज़िंदगी की मुलाकात”
घोर अँधेरा और सामने मौत खड़ी थी, मुझे देख कर वह थोड़ी सी हँसी थी। ना उससे लड़ने का मेरा इरादा था, ना आज उससे मिलने का वादा था ।
रास्ता रोककर वो खड़ी हो गई, मानो ज़िंदगी से भी बड़ी हो गई। उसे देख कर मैं भी घबरा गया सोचा, क्या मेरे सफ़र का अंत आ गया ?
मौत से अनजान था जीवन का सफ़र, खुशियों के गीत में थे उम्मीदों के स्वर। जी भर जिया हूँ, मैं क्यों डरूँ उन से, जाना ही है तो क्यों न जाऊँ मन से।
प्यार मुझे अजनबियों से इतना मिला, मन हल्का है उन से कोई गीला न रहा। वैसे, दर्द अपनों से बहुत पाया है , पर उन दर्दों को भी मैंने अपनाया है |
हाँ, एक दिन तो सबको जाना है, हर नाव यहाँ भँवरों का मेहमान है। ज़िंदगी जी लो यहाँ हँसी-खुशी से, जो तूफानो को झेला वही महान है
अचानक नींद टूटा अँधेरा रोशनी में बदल गया, पत्नी की आवाज़ सुन मैं भी संभाल गया । वो बोली—“उठो, अब सपनों से बाहर आओ”, नई उम्मीदों के साथ ज़िंदगी का लुफ्त उठाओ |
My WordPress feed is skipping some posts, posting them later and out of order.
I noticed a post from someone I follow that was older than other posts I’d already read, but despite having an earlier date, it showed up after them.
First time, I thought I’d imagined it.
Second time, I figured I’d just missed the post initially.
But the third time, the post showed up a day late, not a few hours.
That’s not a time zone thing or me losing track.
That’s stuff not showing up right away.
And I only discovered this most recent one by accident because I couldn’t find another post I wanted to see again and had to go to the person’s actual site.
The True Meaning of Success: A Reflection Beyond Wealth and Fame
Hello dear friends,
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective state of mind. Today, I came across a thought-provoking writing prompt: “When you think of the word ‘successful,’ who’s the first person that comes to mind, and why?”
For the longest time, I thought success meant climbing the ladder, earning recognition, or having a big bank balance. But over time, I realized something far more meaningful: true success isn’t about what the world sees—it’s about the impact you leave and the person you become.
It is not just about admiring someone; it is an invitation to pause, reflect, and redefine success on our own terms.
In our world today, success is often measured by what’s easily visible—wealth, accolades, a large following, or a prestigious title. We see someone with a luxurious lifestyle or a high-profile career, and we instantly assume, “They are successful.”
Yet, when we peel away those external markers, what remains is far more subtle, far more meaningful.
Yes, real success, I believe, is not what you have, but who you are, the lives you touch, and the values you live by.
When I think of the word successful, the first person who comes to my mind is… myself.
Before you raise an eyebrow, let me explain. Saying this is not about vanity or self-importance. It is about recognizing that success is not a distant milestone, but a journey of growth, reflection, and contribution.
To me, being successful means having the courage to continue learning, facing challenges with resilience, and nurturing a sense of purpose in every endeavor.
Why myself, you may wonder?
Because I have come to understand that the simplest yet profound victories often go unnoticed. The times I chose patience over frustration, empathy over judgment, and effort over ease—those are successes in their purest form.
Success, in its truest sense, is not about the applause of the crowd but the quiet satisfaction of knowing you acted with integrity, kindness, and determination.
It is about being someone who can look back and say, “I gave my best, I stayed true, and I left a positive mark.”
Consider the lives of ordinary people who, despite never making headlines, embody extraordinary qualities.
the people who redefine success.
A teacher who stays after hours to help struggling students, a nurse who offers comfort to patients beyond the call of duty, a parent who sacrifices personal comforts for the happiness of their children—these are the people who redefine success.
Their impact may not be measured in bank accounts or trophies, but in smiles, gratitude, and lives transformed.
They remind us that being successful is less about recognition and more about resonance. How deeply your presence touches others’ lives is the currency of true achievement.
Reflecting on this has also made me think about perseverance. Success is not a straight line. It is rarely instantaneous, and it is often accompanied by doubt, failure, and setbacks.
Yet, every time we rise after a fall, every time we learn from our mistakes rather than succumb to them, we are, in essence, successful.
The courage to continue despite uncertainty, to chase our vision even when the odds seem stacked against us, is a hallmark of true success. It is in these quiet battles that the character of a person is forged, far away from the spotlight.
alignment between your values and your actions
Another essential aspect of success is authenticity. Many people achieve fame or wealth but lose sight of who they truly are in the process.
True success, however, requires alignment between your values and your actions. It is about embracing your strengths while acknowledging your flaws, and walking your path with honesty and humility.
When your choices reflect who you genuinely are, rather than who society tells you to be, that is a victory that no external metric can measure.
So, when I think of the word successful, I do not picture someone on a magazine cover or a corporate ladder.
I picture someone who makes the world a little better simply by existing. Someone whose kindness, courage, and perseverance ripple outward, inspiring others to dream, to try, and to grow.
Someone whose presence reminds us that life is not about accumulating wealth or accolades, but about cultivating character, nurturing relationships, and contributing meaningfully.
My Final Submission
And finally, this writing prompt is more than a question; it is a mirror. It asks us not only to admire success in others but also to recognize it within ourselves.
To see that we are already capable of greatness in our own ways, and that the journey of becoming truly successful is ongoing, personal, and profoundly rewarding.
The next time you think of the word successful, I encourage you to pause and look beyond the obvious. Don’t just picture someone with fame or fortune.
Think of someone whose presence makes the world a little kinder, whose work leaves a positive mark, and whose life inspires others to dream fearlessly. And remember—success, in its truest sense, begins within.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Who can believe it? It’s October. Another two months and a few weeks and we’ll be celebrating Christmas, which comes and goes before we’ve even finished wishing each other, and then New Year. Makes me wonder, who is time trying to catch up with? It’s sprinting.
Is it any wonder then, that I’m behind on the blogs? I have so much catching up to do. Even if time isn’t going so fast, I am somehow dawdling away. Everyone seems to be moving. Me, I’m here, lazily existing.
So far, the weather seems bearable for an October summer. It’s hot and the humidity is what it should be for the tropics, but comparatively, it’s better. I hope it stays this way or maybe turns cooler. It seems up North it has already started snowing, and the cold wave is sweeping in. When there’s a heat wave, there has to be a cold wave.
My daughter completed her mid-term exams, whew! The next festival, Diwali, starts in a week’s time, if I’m not mistaken. The city will light up, but over the past few years, people have taken their time putting up lights in their homes. The power of power bills. The lights and fireworks are welcome, but not the noisy firecrackers. Earlier today, we got a slight dose of them. Then the neighboring house began preparing sweets. The aroma is delicious, I wish I could go over with a plate.
This evening, I met up with a few of the mothers from the school group, since the girls are friends. It turned out to be a good time, though there was quite a lot of screaming and some crying. Except for two, I barely knew the others, but they were all friendly and easy to speak with.
It got me thinking again how adult friendships are not easy to make or maintain. Most of the friends I’ve made are through the children. When my son was younger, I became friends with his friends’ mothers, but once the children went off to separate colleges, that common bond also faded. And now, the cycle continues with my daughter. But these women seem welcoming and eager to build a connection beyond the children.
I couldn’t help thinking, there is a season for everything. People come into our lives for a reason or a season. Some have remained, their relationships weathering the years, while others could not sustain. Yet those relationships were no less valuable; they served their purpose for that time.
I do hope the friendships my daughter is building now continue to grow and flourish as they grow together. I’m happy she has a good mix, community and faith-wise. It’s good exposure.
Life is all about seasons, isn’t it? Some warm and radiant, others fading into dusk, yet each leaves behind a quiet glow of memory. I’m learning to sit with every season, as each teaches something new, patience (debatable), letting go, joy, renewal. Grateful while the sun still shines.
Until the next festive rush, I’ll just be here, soaking in my season in the sun, one cup of coffee and conversation at a time.
(Pic courtesy:Google.com)
This is a tender poem that captures the innocence of youth and the bittersweet feeling of time passing. It reflects on childhood memories — the laughter, the simplicity, the wonder — and how, even though life has moved on, a part of that golden past still exists in our hearts.
With its gentle rhythm and emotional imagery, it feels like a soft echo of days we can’t return to, yet never fully lose.
“When We Were Golden”
We were the children of endless skies, Chasing the wind where freedom lies, Barefoot dreams on dusty ground, Lost in laughter, never now found.
The world was small, yet full of skies, Dreams were drawn in our young eyes. We built our castles out of rain, And broke them down, then laughed again.
No weight of time upon our chest, Just twilight’s peace and evening rest. A mother’s call, a father’s song, Those simple notes still linger long.
Now roads have changed, the faces too, The mirror shows a me I never knew. But in my soul, that child remains, Still dancing in that forgotten rains.
Yes, if I close my eyes, I see, The child I was still lives in me, Running through the fields of time, Laughing true in a rhyme divine.
I hope this blog finds you smiling, feeling curious, and ready to reflect. Today, I came across a writing prompt that immediately made me pause: “What have you been working on?”
At first glance, it might seem like a simple question, almost casual, but when you look closer, it’s profound.
It’s not just about tasks on a to-do list or projects at work—it’s about life, growth, and purpose. It invites us to take a moment, step back, and consider what we’re building—not just for ourselves, but for the world around us.
In our fast-paced lives, it’s easy to get caught up in doing, in moving from one thing to another, without ever asking ourselves if what we’re doing truly matters.
We rush through days, weeks, and months, accumulating experiences, achievements, and sometimes even stress, without reflecting on the “why” behind it all.
The question, “What have you been working on?” is a gentle reminder to pause, to assess, and to realign our energy with our purpose.
So, what does it mean to be “working on” something?
For some, it might be tangible—a new job, a creative project, a skill they’ve been learning, or even a home renovation.
For others, it could be more abstract—working on relationships, personal growth, mental health, or spiritual understanding.
The beauty of this question lies in its inclusiveness: everyone has something they’re shaping, building, or nurturing, whether it’s visible to the world or hidden in the quiet corners of their lives.
Personally, when I reflect on this question, I realize that I’ve been working on several things simultaneously. I’ve been nurturing my curiosity, exploring new ideas, and embracing learning in its many forms.
Whether it’s reading books that challenge my thinking, writing reflections to capture fleeting thoughts, or connecting with people whose perspectives are different from mine,
I’ve been actively working on expanding my mind. This work may not have immediate, tangible results, but it is essential.
Knowledge, insight, and understanding are seeds we plant today, which bear fruit tomorrow.
At the same time, I’ve been working on personal discipline and consistency.
There’s a difference between having goals and actively working toward them each day. Discipline transforms intentions into actions and dreams into reality.
It’s in the small daily efforts—the 15 minutes of reading, the morning journaling, the consistent steps toward fitness or skill development—that meaningful progress is made.
I’ve realized that working on oneself is often the hardest but the most rewarding work because it requires patience, resilience, and self-compassion.
Another crucial area I’ve been working on is connection—
Connection, both with myself and others. In the digital age, we are constantly surrounded by communication, yet authentic connection is rare.
I’ve been striving to listen more deeply, empathize more genuinely, and invest time in relationships that nourish my soul. Working on connection is subtle but transformative.
It reminds us that life is not just about personal success but shared experiences, mutual support, and love.
The reason this question resonates so deeply is that it forces honesty. It asks us to evaluate whether we are truly engaged in meaningful work or merely keeping ourselves busy.
Many of us measure productivity in terms of outputs—emails sent, tasks completed, posts published—but working on something goes beyond quantity.
It is about quality, intention, and growth. It is about progress, not perfection; persistence, not instant results.
Reflecting on what we’re working on also offers clarity. It can reveal whether our current efforts align with our long-term goals and values.
Sometimes, it exposes areas where we may be procrastinating, distracted, or overextended.
This reflection is not meant to induce guilt, but rather to encourage mindfulness. When we know what we’re working on and why it matters, every action becomes more purposeful, every effort more fulfilling.
So, my friends, the next time someone—or even yourself—asks, “What have you been working on?”, don’t answer hastily. Pause. Think. Reflect.
You might discover that your “work” is richer and more layered than you realized. Or you might uncover areas where you want to invest more energy.
Either way, this question is a doorway—a gateway to awareness, growth, and intentional living.
My Final Submission
Finally, I invite you to take a moment today and ask yourself honestly: What have I been working on? And just as importantly, Am I proud of it?
The answer may surprise you, challenge you, and even inspire you to take new steps forward.
Life is, after all, a series of projects—some small, some grand—but all worth our attention, reflection, and care. By consciously choosing what we work on, we shape our journey and the legacy we leave behind.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I will cut adrift—I will sit on pavements and drink coffee—I will dream; I will take my mind out of its iron cage and let it swim—this fine October. ~Virginia Woolf
Book: Selection Diaries
Even as the season changes and autumn settles in, there’s a coziness that wraps around everything. Maybe it’s the changing colors that hold you in their warmth. Autumn makes me feel a little more gentle and tender- as if it’s whispering, be kind to yourself. Slow down. Pace the striving. Dream those dreams. Let your mind wander. Breathe.
OK, these are truly the last of this roll of Kodak ColorPlus 200.
And unlike the last set, these are more phone screen friendly.
One I took because I liked the color and lighting.
The other is the palm tree I always end up photographing to finish off a roll of film when I visit this location.
So not a lot of thought or effort. I just took them. Sometimes that works, and sometimes it doesn’t.
You’ll have to be the judge.
A crowded green shed with afternoon sun highlights and a pitcher of … water? Coffee? Something else? f8, 1/125sec (I think). I actually took a second photo, and unbelievably, after thinking about it and re-framing for another shot, I didn’t have the camera level! So we get this one instead.
What do you imagine is in that oddly placed pitcher?
The inevitable, obligatory palm tree photo. Only this time, in color! And slightly out of focus! f5.6, 1/125sec
Next time, black and white medium format photos that put me in an apocalyptic state of mind…
What’s the funniest ‘oops’ moment you wouldn’t trade for perfection?
To answer the repeat prompt: someone would have to give me more than a million dollars so I could give a million away. Otherwise, it doesn’t work – I, myself, need a million. Where’s the question of giving it away?
Now, to my own prompt… I’ve had more than my fair share of “oops moments.” Honestly, my life itself feels like one big oops. I’m sure my parents must’ve wondered if God had an off day when He created me, as compared to my siblings .
My daughter absolutely loves these stories. She keeps asking me to narrate them so she can laugh, and then tell her friends. She even told her teacher about the time my friends and I stole apples from the school tree .
One day, I was returning from school and hadn’t taken the school bus. From the last bus stop, I had to walk a bit to reach home. We usually took the shortcut past the football (soccer) field, and it just so happened that a match was happening that day. The area was packed with young males.
I was walking fine for a while, managing not to draw attention, when suddenly, my legs gave way, and I went down flat on the straight road .
What did I do? I bravely stood up, didn’t look left or right, and continued walking as if I hadn’t just temporarily died of embarrassment. I could hear the boys’ comments and gags. A few steps ahead, I had to hold back laughter myself. One guy even asked what I was giggling about, imagine the awkwardness!
Later, I met my cousin, who was among the crowd. Apparently, he’d been calling out to me, but when he saw me hit the ground, he abruptly stopped, embarrassed, not for me, but because he knew me .
And then there was the time I wore mismatched footwear to work. I didn’t notice until it was almost time to leave. To top it off, the mismatched colors were pink and brown. Yeah… who can’t differentiate pink and brown, except me? I didn’t even have to pretend, I had confidently walked everywhere with two, should I say, different sets of feet. I did spread some happiness though; my colleagues had a good laugh at my expense.
Nowadays, when I stumble, which happens frequently, I get right back up, laugh, and walk like it’s the most natural thing. I guess, with me, it is natural . Just the other day, my little girl said, “Mom, you’re the funniest and silliest mom ever.” I accepted that compliment gladly.
Honestly, my life has been full of moments like this. Messy, awkward, sometimes mortifying… but I wouldn’t trade a single one. They make great stories, endless laughter, and memories I can share with the people I love most, especially my little audience of one.
In a world constantly clamoring for productivity, positivity, and perfection, it’s easy to overlook the quiet battles that millions fight every day—battles within their own minds.
These struggles, often invisible, have perpetuated myths and misunderstandings about mental health for far too long.
A True Story
I was reminded of this stark reality during an incident that left a lasting impression on me. I was traveling on a local bus to Kanke in Ranchi, near my Agriculture College.
The bus was crowded, and I had to stand. That’s when I noticed a beautiful girl, perhaps 15 or 16 years old, sitting nearby. She seemed to stare at me intently, and for a moment,
I was unsure of what to make of it. Then, to my surprise, she gestured for me to come closer and smiled.
I was uncomfortable—especially because her father, an elderly man, was seated beside her.
Before I could process anything, she suddenly started shouting and hurling insults at me. I was taken aback, confused, and frightened.
That Elderly man came over and explained gently, “Please don’t take her behavior personally. She is mentally unwell, and I am taking her to the Mental Hospital here in Kanke for treatment.”
That moment shook me. Here was a young, physically healthy, and beautiful girl struggling with her mind.
Living so close to a mental hospital, I had seen many mentally unwell individuals, but seeing someone so young highlighted a critical truth: mental health challenges are real, pervasive, and often invisible.
This is where World Mental Health Day, celebrated annually on October 10, becomes so vital.
It provides an opportunity to shed light on mental health issues, break the silence, and foster empathy and understanding.
The History of World Mental Health Day
World Mental Health Day was first observed in 1992 by the World Federation for Mental Health, initially focusing on advocacy and public education without a specific theme.
In 1994, the first theme—“Improving the Quality of Mental Health Services throughout the World”—was introduced. Over the years, themes like “Women and Mental Health” (1996), “Children and Mental Health” (1997), and “Mental Health and Ageing” (1999) have highlighted disparities, encouraged dialogue, and promoted destigmatization.
Separately, the World Health Day 2025 theme, “Healthy Beginnings, Hopeful Futures,” focuses on improving maternal and newborn health through quality care during pregnancy, childbirth, and the postnatal period, aiming for healthier generations..
Understanding the Unseen Struggles
Despite increasing awareness, stigma remains one of the biggest barriers to addressing mental health.
People struggling with mental health issues are often dismissed with phrases like, “You’re overthinking” or “Just cheer up.”
Such misconceptions perpetuate a culture of silence, discouraging individuals from seeking help for fear of judgment.
Mental health struggles are complex and deeply personal—they cannot be resolved with willpower or positive thinking alone.
World Mental Health Day reminds us that mental health deserves the same seriousness, understanding, and treatment as physical health. Breaking stigma allows those in need to seek help without fear or shame.
Lesser-Known Facts About Mental Health
Even as mental health discussions enter mainstream conversations, several key facts are often overlooked:
Mental Health Disorders Are the Leading Cause of Disability According to the World Health Organization (WHO), disorders like depression and anxiety are the top causes of disability globally.
Mental Health Is Closely Linked to Physical Health Individuals with chronic physical conditions are twice as likely to face mental health challenges. Conversely, untreated mental health issues can contribute to illnesses like heart disease and diabetes.
Workplace Mental Health Impacts Productivity A 2019 WHO report revealed that every $1 invested in workplace mental health programs yields a $4 return through improved health and productivity.
Mental Health Issues Often Begin Early Half of all mental health conditions start by age 14, yet many go undiagnosed, highlighting the importance of early intervention and awareness.
Why World Mental Health Day Matters
World Mental Health Day is more than just reflection; it’s a call to action:
Breaking the Stigma: It challenges society to rethink misconceptions and encourages individuals to seek help without fear.
Raising Awareness: It educates the public, dispelling myths and providing accurate information about mental health conditions.
Bridging the Treatment Gap: Many individuals remain untreated due to lack of awareness or resources. The day emphasizes the need for accessible mental health services worldwide .
Supporting Adolescents and Caregivers: Teenagers face immense academic and social pressures. Families, schools, and caregivers must be equipped to provide guidance and support.
Moving Forward Together
World Mental Health Day, 2025, is a reminder that mental health is a collective responsibility. By fostering compassion, offering support, and challenging misconceptions, we can create a world where mental health is prioritized.
We must break the silence, dismantle stigma, and ensure that mental health care is accessible, understood, and embraced by all. Together, through awareness and action, we can make a difference—one mind, one life, and one conversation at a time.
Mental health struggles are real, and understanding them is the first step toward a more empathetic and inclusive society. As we observe World Mental Health Day, 2025,
let’s pledge to see beyond the surface, listen without judgment, and extend compassion to those navigating the unseen battles of the mind. (Pic Courtesy:Google.com)
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I hope this blog finds you smiling and feeling curious today.
I came across a fascinating writing prompt recently: “What’s something most people don’t know about you?” And wow—this one really made me pause.
Because honestly, how often do we actually think about what lies beneath the surface of who we are?
Most people only see what we choose to show—the smiling face, the busy schedule, the achievements. But behind all that, there are layers of memories, passions, and experiences that quietly shape us.
Sharing those hidden parts can feel vulnerable, but it’s also incredibly freeing—it’s like opening a window to your soul.
So today, I want to peel back a few layers and share something most people don’t know about me.
The Unexpected Turn
Most people know me as a retired banker turned artist and writer—someone who now finds joy in creativity, color, and words.
But what many don’t know is that this version of me came to life only after a complete 180-degree turn.
For decades, I lived a life driven by numbers, precision, and structure. I was a man of ledgers, spreadsheets, and deadlines—a banker through and through.
My career was steady and reliable, but if I’m honest, it wasn’t born out of passion. It was a practical choice, one that ensured stability for my family.
Back then, I didn’t imagine that art or writing would ever become part of my life. Creativity was something I admired from afar but never truly embraced. The artistic, reflective side of me lay dormant for years—quiet, unnoticed, waiting for its moment.
And that moment came much later, after I retired.
The Spark That Changed Everything
Retirement, for me, wasn’t just an end—it was a beginning.
After years of chasing deadlines and balancing accounts, I suddenly found myself with something I hadn’t had in decades: time. Time to think, to breathe, and to explore.
One quiet morning, I picked up a paintbrush—something I hadn’t done since childhood. I can still recall that first splash of color on the canvas.
It was imperfect, messy, and spontaneous. But it made me feel alive. That moment rekindled something deep within me—a creative spark that had been waiting patiently for years.
Soon after, I started journaling, writing short reflections, and experimenting with poetry. What began as a hobby slowly turned into a passion. Each stroke of paint and each written word became a small act of self-discovery.
That’s something most people don’t know about me—my artistic and writing journey didn’t begin in my youth.
It blossomed later in life, proving that it’s never too late to reinvent yourself or follow a dream that once seemed distant.
The Power of Vulnerability
But here’s the deeper truth: this transformation wasn’t just about creativity. It was about learning to be vulnerable.
In my banking days, everything had to be precise—numbers didn’t forgive mistakes. But art and writing? They demanded the opposite.
They invited imperfection. They taught me to let go of control, to embrace mistakes, and to find beauty in the unpredictable.
I learned that the most powerful creations—whether in art or in life—come from authenticity, not perfection.
A crooked line on a canvas, an unpolished phrase in a poem—these things carry truth. They reflect the real, human experience.
Through creativity, I discovered that vulnerability is not weakness; it’s courage. It’s the willingness to show up as your true self, without fear of judgment.
Creativity as Healing
Another thing most people don’t know is that art and writing became my form of healing.
Life, as we all know, comes with its share of challenges— moments of uncertainty, loss, and change. But when I put my emotions onto paper or canvas, they transformed. What once felt heavy became lighter.
Each poem, each painting, became a quiet conversation with my soul. I realized that creativity is more than expression—it’s therapy.
It helps us process emotions we can’t always articulate, and it connects us to something greater than ourselves.
The Hidden Joy of Curiosity
And there’s another secret side of me—my obsession with learning random, unusual skills.
I’ve dabbled in calligraphy, tried playing obscure musical instruments, and even explored astronomy and space facts just for fun!
To some, these hobbies might seem quirky, but for me, they’re little windows into wonder.
They remind me that learning doesn’t end with age or career—it’s a lifelong adventure. Each new skill, no matter how small, keeps my mind fresh and my spirit curious.
My Final Submission
So, what’s something most people don’t know about me? It’s that the person you see today—the writer, the artist, the dreamer—wasn’t always here.
He emerged later in life, after years of routines and responsibilities. And his journey was shaped by curiosity, courage, and a willingness to start anew.
Life has taught me that reinvention is always possible. It’s never too late to listen to that quiet voice inside—the one urging you to try, to create, to explore.
Sometimes, the side of you that’s been silent for years is the one waiting to change your life.
So, dear friends, I invite you to reflect: What’s something most people don’t know about you? Maybe it’s a passion you’ve kept hidden, or a dream you’ve quietly nurtured.
Whatever it is, embrace it. Share it. Because when you do, you not only rediscover yourself—you also inspire others to do the same.
Life is richer than what we show on the outside. Beneath every smile lies a story, and within every heart, an untold masterpiece waiting to unfold.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I’ve always been fascinated by circus acts and magic tricks. I’ve been to a couple of Cirque Du Soleil shows and was blown away by what they were capable of doing.
So if I could pull something off, with nil chance of failure, I would walk a tightrope that was suspended between two sky scrapers in NYC.
I can’t even imagine the exhilaration.
I’d wear a cute little dress with tulle under the skirt and leotards. I’d carry one of those balance poles as I made my way cautiously but confidently, from one side to the other.
Imagine knowing you wouldn’t fail?! That’s something.
My girls, Cordelia & Bella-Lena at La Roux Patisserie in Victoria, BC last spring
And…it’s the last of this roll of Kodak ColorPlus 200 (unless I post the throwaway, obligatory palm tree picture).
These are from a recent trip and involved frogs. I’ve encountered (and photographed) these frogs before, but this is the first time with the 100mm lens.
So while still not as close as I would have liked to the subjects, it certainly beat my 50mm lens or the 80mm lens on my Ricohflex Dia (also about 50mm equivalent for medium format, I believe).
Without further ado, an artificial pond with real frogs!
f5.6, 1/125sec. He’s hard to see, so the next image is a zoomed in crop.
See him now? Not too grainy for a crop, either! He’s looking at me as if to say, “Go ahead. Photograph me like your French girls.” French girls? I wish! And so do you, froggie!
f5/6, 1/125sec again. A new frog, a different angle, a little closer, and a little easier to see. But the image is still lacking a certain … je ne sais quoi.I zoomed in a little bit, and sharpened the crop, but found I couldn’t really achieve an edit I like. Even though this frog is easier to see, I think the first picture edges it out overall. At least the crop of the first picture does. Could the difference be a frog staring at the camera versus one looking disdainfully away?
I think there are two chief take-aways from these pictures for me. One, I really need to be able to get closer with the lens. Another check in the “Buy a teleconverter” or “Buy a honking big zoom lens” column. But more importantly, I didn’t frame these shots. I was so worried the frogs would disappear (as they’ve done before) that I rushed and as a result, there’s a certain lack of … art … to the compositions.
I’m not sure how I would have made the shots more artistic, so that’s something to think about too.
In related news, I managed to drop off my first roll of Phoenix II 35mm film for processing today, and those will come back Friday. I have high hopes for some of the early shots, assuming the film is decent. But most were taken at a large public event, and past experience indicates they’ll be full of people I don’t know taken at angles that were forced upon me rather than chosen, and I will inevitably find them to fall flat.
But we shall see.
I’ll probably post a simple one tomorrow of that palm tree I photograph every time I take this trip. And then I’ll start the Kentmere postings. Which should give me some time to get the Phoenix II results.
And for you photo nerds out there, I got the new Kodacolor film, ISO 100 and 200. I plan to shoot them next, and I’m curious to see how those turn out.
A tender reflection on the golden days of childhood, Through vivid memories of paper boats, kites, and festive joy, the poem captures both the sweetness of remembrance and the quiet pain of knowing that those moments can never return.
“Whispers of Childhood”
My heart still remembers the village of my childhood, the shade of the old banyan tree, mischievous friends, muddy feet, and paper boats drifting on rain-fed streams.
It stirs again— to play with sticks and balls, to roll an old tire down dusty lanes, to fly paper kites chasing the wind.
My soul still longs— to be drenched in monsoon rain, to dance in the colors of Holi, to sip bhaang with laughter echoing around.
The whispers of childhood, the faces of friends— they still live quietly in my heart.
Yes, I remember those golden, carefree days… but alas, my friends, no road leads back there, Yes, village sleeps only in memory.
What’s something you would attempt if you were guaranteed not to fail.
This question feels a little too make-believe, doesn’t it? Who guarantees anything in life? Whatever we do, we’re bound to fail at some point. Life itself is one failure after another, a series of falls and recoveries that somehow make us who we are.
The question says “would attempt,” meaning something never tried before. But my answer veers a bit different, since I’ve already attempted. If there were do-overs, I’d say motherhood. Yup, as excruciating as it is, I’d like to attempt it again. Guaranteed, second time I’d fail too, but if at once you don’t succeed, try, try again. Might as well put that saying to good use!
Jokes aside, motherhood, and being a wife, are probably among the hardest things we willingly choose to do. Motherhood especially. Being responsible for a child’s well-being requires the biggest heart, the strongest shoulders, and patience, which I’m convinced is a myth. People say having children teaches you patience you didn’t know you had. Unfortunately, patience still eludes me.
Motherhood tries you in all the ways you never knew existed. It starts with the hormones and changing body, then the labor that feels like a life-and-death matter, followed by months (and sometimes years) of sleepless nights. I don’t think I had a full night’s sleep until my daughter was three. It’s a series of unseen sacrifices, the selfless giving, the juggling of everyone else’s lives while yours sits on the back burner.
Try as she might, a mother faces more failures and imperfections than she can count. Often, she’s the one holding the family together while quietly falling apart. Nothing ever feels enough, and every misstep feels magnified. It’s not that she fails, but she feels like a failure.
She loves lavishly, gives endlessly, and still doubts whether she’s doing it right. The responsibility she carries on her already burdened shoulders is heavy, daunting, and relentless, yet she carries it without complaint.
As a mother, I fail every day in every way. I’m still stumbling through, learning and unlearning as I go, especially when it comes to unlearning conventional motherhood roles and expectations.
But if I were guaranteed not to fail, I think it would look less like perfection and more like peace, knowing that love, patience, and presence really do count for more than the rest.
And even with all the stumbles, I wouldn’t trade it. Because within the chaos, there are small miracles, a laugh that fills the room, a tiny hand reaching for mine, random hugs and kisses, and an “I love you, Mama” whispered out of nowhere. So yes, if I were guaranteed not to fail, I’d still choose to attempt motherhood again. Not because I’d get it perfect, but because it’s worth every fall, every doubt, and every sleepless night. And when you have mischief-makers like mine, it makes it all the more worth it.
Maybe the real success isn’t in getting it right, but in being there, loving, trying, and showing up, again and again.
New Daily Prompt: How do you handle unexpected expenses? How do you react when presented with them? Do you set an example of calm and poise to those around you, even when the cost makes you sick to your stomach? Or do you run away?
My reaction involves a lot of yelling, screaming, frothing at the mouth, and hopping up and down in a decidedly menacing manner.
Basically, I convince the people around me to get their pepper spray ready for action.
Which made finding out about that huge fine at the library really, really awkward.
(Did you know you can get a lifetime ban not just from a single library, but also all the other local branches as well? For just one incident? I didn’t, but I sure do now!)
(And did you know that if someone’s use of pepper spray against you in a public space is deemed justified, you can be held liable for cleanup costs? Talk about an unexpected expense!)
Subconsciously, I’m probably hoping the uncouth display dissuades people from attempting to foist additional unexpected expenses on me.
Ever again.
But that’s probably me just coping after making a fool of myself publicly.
Anyone know how to set up a Patreon? Asking for a friend.
I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt question is quite thought-provoking as I read, “Do lazy days make you feel rested or unproductive?”
At first glance, it seems like a simple question—but when you pause to reflect, it opens a window into how we view time, rest, and our own sense of worth.
Lazy days can feel like a double-edged sword: On one side lies the bliss of rest and renewal, and on the other, the unease of unproductivity..
The truth is more nuanced: lazy days hold value not in their activity or output, but in balance, intention, and self-awareness
The Paradox of Laziness
There is a duality to lazy days. On one hand, they are restorative. After weeks or months filled with deadlines, routines, and responsibilities, a day spent lingering in bed, sipping tea, or simply watching the clouds drift by can feel like a gift.
These moments of stillness allow the mind to breathe, emotions to settle, and creativity to emerge.
For writers, artists, and thinkers, such pauses can be fertile ground.
A wandering mind often stumbles upon insights and metaphors that a busy schedule would never allow.
Yet, lazy days can also carry a shadow. Inactivity often breeds guilt. The cultural narrative of productivity equates busyness with worth, leaving those who rest feeling they are wasting time or falling behind.
For creatives, this tension can be particularly poignant. Writers and bloggers, whose work is often self-driven, may find themselves judging a day of rest as failure.
The tug-of-war between relaxation and perceived responsibility is real, and navigating it requires conscious attention.
Rest as a Necessity, Not a Luxury
Rest should not be treated as a luxury—it is essential. Just as farmland lies fallow between harvests to regain fertility, humans need pauses to restore their energy, focus, and creativity.
Lazy days allow the senses to recalibrate: a painter might notice subtler shades of color, a poet may perceive the rhythm in everyday sounds, and anyone can feel the simple pleasure of slowing down their breath.
Intentional rest is the key. It is not avoidance but a deliberate act of self-care. Viewing downtime as an investment rather than a loss transforms the way we experience lazy days.
Studies consistently show that deliberate rest improves problem-solving, boosts productivity, and protects mental health. When approached thoughtfully, lazy days are not wasted—they are foundational.
The Fine Line Between Rest and Inertia
The feeling of unproductivity often arises when lazy days lack structure or purpose. Mindlessly scrolling through social media, binge-watching shows, or procrastinating can leave a lingering sense of dissatisfaction.
The difference between restorative laziness and inert lethargy is subtle but crucial.
Mindful laziness, for instance, can include gentle rituals and nurturing activities: reading a favorite book, taking a slow walk in nature, journaling, meditating, or sketching.
These actions are chosen, not compulsive, and they honor the need for rest. In contrast, avoiding responsibility or drifting aimlessly often results in frustration, guilt, and a sense of emptiness.
The Writer’s Dilemma: Between Output and Idleness
For creatives, the challenge of lazy days is particularly acute. The pressure to produce can make relaxation feel impossible, yet some of the richest creative breakthroughs come from moments of stillness.
Writers, poets, and bloggers often find that ideas flow most freely when the mind is unburdened by deadlines.
Free time allows thoughts to connect, metaphors to form, and inspiration to surface organically.
Accepting that not every moment must be productive is essential. Creativity thrives in cycles: action followed by quiet, output followed by reflection, doing followed by being.
Lazy days, then, are not interruptions—they are integral to the creative rhythm.
Reframing Laziness for Growth and Well-being
Transforming lazy days into opportunities for rest and inspiration requires intention. Some strategies include:
Setting gentle intentions: Choose one restorative activity, such as journaling, sketching, or walking.
Practicing gratitude: Appreciate leisure as a gift rather than a guilty indulgence.
Listening to the body and mind: Allow physical and emotional cues to guide the pace of the day
Embracing creative daydreaming: Let ideas surface without pressure or judgment.
By integrating these practices, lazy days become more than a break from life—they become a form of deep self-care, fostering joy, creativity, and renewed energy.
The Power of Pause
Lazy days embody a paradox: they can feel both restful and unproductive. Their true value emerges only when approached with awareness, intention, and self-kindness.
Mindful rest restores energy, nurtures creativity, and strengthens mental health, while unmindful idleness can leave one feeling hollow and frustrated.
Each individual must find their balance, learning to honor these pauses as essential, natural, and necessary parts of life.
In the gentle rhythm of living, lazy days are not interruptions to productivity—they are opportunities for reflection, renewal, and growth. When embraced without judgment, they allow life, creativity, and even work to bloom more fully.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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On Sunday I texted my older sister Corinne to ask if she works out before work each morning. Actually, what I originally texted her for was to find out if she uses seed oils or has she switched to the healthier ones like avocado oil and olive oil. And had she given up on using the soft processed margarine such as Becel, replacing it with good old butter.
I can usually count on her for good advice about healthy food.
Anyway, back to the exercise thing, she said that she occasionally did workout in her home gym before work early in the morning but not as often as she’d like to. I told her I needed to get my butt in gear and add a workout to my life too. I am walking each day, to and from work (and home for lunch and back to work at 12:45) but I don’t do any strength training.
So we decided we would start Monday morning and text each other so that we are more accountable. We set our start time for 6:15 am.
I was really skeptical. Of myself. Not a morning workout person. Definitely not a 6:15 am workout person. Kind of sounded like hell on earth.
This meant I would have to be up far enough in advance to have sufficient amounts of coffee to wake up, write in my journal, etc.
I’m happy to report that today marks day number three of 6:15 am workouts. I actually don’t even hate it. I don’t dread it.
I enjoy and appreciate the time alone in the morning, just me, my yoga mat and my free weights. My body feels amazing. My movements feel purposeful. Strong.
I know it’s a tad premature to celebrate, three days in, but hey, it’s three days! It really does help to have a workout partner and know that someone is up early too, trying to wake up too and getting their sweat on right at the same time.
Earlier today, while putting on some music, I decided to just let whatever play, no playlists, no plans. Somehow, the songs hit a little too close… or maybe they were just depressing, and you know how we sometimes get drawn to them even more. Either way, I thought, let’s see what the songs say, and what my subconscious interprets .
It started with Hurt – “I hurt myself today, just to see if I still feel.” To be honest, this one is haunting. It feels like part confession and part confrontation with myself. I wrestle with my heart often, and this felt like my soul baring itself – cracked, but honest.
Then Behind Blue Eyes said, “No one knows what it’s like…” It felt like another voice answering – softer, timid, unseen behind tired eyes. A reminder that pain often wears a calm and composed face.
Everybody Hurts cries, “Hold on.” It’s a gentle echo breaking through the silence, acknowledging our pain while slowly extending a hand toward healing. It’s so real and raw that I can’t help but tear up every time I hear it. It feels like the ache that lingers on, it never really left.
Hold On (Tom Waits) follows, somewhat rough, smoky, and at the same time, tender. “You got to hold on,” he says. It doesn’t promise ease or comfort, but endurance and perseverance, even with shadows lurking along the way.
Remember When arrives next, glowing with the warmth of memory. Nostalgia settles in as it sings about a love once young, laughter once loud, and time once gentle. The heart looks back not in regret, but in gratitude.
Just when I thought I needed a breather, along comes With or Without You, a gentle reminder of the quiet ache of contradiction. The tension between needing and resisting, staying and breaking. Desire and distance breathing in the same space.
As the mind is still absorbing this tension, Again whispers, “Maybe this time…” It’s a fragile hope, offering the courage to open your heart again, even knowing the risk.
As if this random playlist knew the heaviness, it offered Just Breathe. A moment of stillness, no grand declarations. It only asks, “Stay with me… just breathe.” In that moment, you believe, love feels quieter, simpler, sacred in its ordinariness.
I’ll admit, that’s a lot of heavy for one evening. From hurting to remembering to breathing… I didn’t know I could fit so many emotions into one sitting . Of course, there were others in between that didn’t stir up as much feeling. These ones hit differently, maybe too differently. I couldn’t silly dance to them, but they still made me want to glide .
Anyway, the playlist shifted to She Talks to Angels, and something softened. Compassion reawakened as I was reminded to see the broken not only in myself but in others, that we all carry both saints and sinners within.
Drops of Jupiter felt like a saving grace. It made me look outward – toward the stars, toward wonder and what remains of love after the journey.
And when I thought I was all spent, I Hope You Dance came in like a blessing, whispered like a prayer, “When you get the chance to sit it out or dance…” It was a call to live bravely, reminding me to choose joy. Though written for a child, it resonates deeply with grown-ups too.
It was apt that More Than Words followed. This song reaches the depths of my soul – a love stripped of pretense, quiet and real. No lyrics left to prove anything, just presence and connection. You can feel the heart singing this.
The playlist didn’t actually end, but I chose to stop it here, with Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm. And this is life’s strange hum, odd, bewildered, gloriously imperfect and irrevocably human. The story doesn’t end with resolution, but with recognition.
I’ve got to say, it was one rollercoaster of emotions and conversations. Did I need them? The songs are exceptional, but next time I’d better make sure I also have the fun and dance to balance it out. Or better yet, play it safe… and stick to my playlist.
What is Life?
“What is life?” Three simple words, yet a question that has lingered on humanity’s tongue since the beginning of time.
We ask it in classrooms, in quiet midnight hours, on mountaintops, and in hospital corridors. We ask it when we are overflowing with joy and when we are bent beneath sorrow.
The question is timeless because the answer keeps changing as we move through our days.
Life as More Than Survival
At its most basic, science tells us life is the spark of biology. It’s cells dividing, lungs breathing, blood carrying oxygen, and energy being transferred to sustain us.
But if life were only this, it would be little more than existence.
To live is more than to survive. It is to feel, to question, to create, to connect. It is to weave meaning into the rhythm of heartbeat and breath.
Human history proves this. If survival were enough, we would have stopped after discovering fire.
Instead, we built civilizations, wrote poetry, painted murals in caves, composed symphonies, and sent ships into galaxies. Deep down, we know survival alone is not living.
Life as a Question of Meaning
Meaning is not delivered to us like a parcel waiting at the door. It is carved, often slowly, with choices, beliefs, and encounters.
As philosophers like Camus suggested, life can feel absurd until we decide otherwise. And perhaps that is the thrilling paradox of it—life itself offers no blueprint, and so we are free to design it.
For one person, meaning may be found in raising children. For another, it may be discovered in art, prayer, or scholarship.
Others may catch glimpses of it while standing by the ocean, or in the silent moments of healing after heartbreak.
Life, then, is not just what happens to us—it is the meaning we build out of what happens.
Life as a Symphony of Moments
Think of your most cherished memory. Chances are, it was not something grand or cinematic, but something small that pulsed with fullness.
The laughter you couldn’t control. The quiet assurance in your grandmother’s hands. The long walk home on a rainy evening when the world smelled of earth and beginnings.
Life hides in these moments. It is not waiting somewhere in the distance, ready to reveal itself once we achieve enough, earn enough, or prove enough.
It is right here, in the shifting of light across the window, in the warmth of shared silence, in the breath you are taking this very second.
Life as Growth and Becoming
Perhaps life is not so much a fixed definition as a continuous becoming. The self you were five years ago is not the self you hold today—and that is life at work. It bends us, breaks us, teaches us, and rebuilds us.
Like nature shifting through seasons, life too has its winters of loss and its springs of rebirth. The storms do not last forever.
And even in the moments of stillness that feel empty, something within us is germinating. Life is that steady reminder: you are still becoming.
Life as Connection
To be alive is also to belong. Love, friendships, fleeting encounters with strangers on a train—we are constantly reminded that life is larger than just the self.
The touch of a relationship, whether deep or brief, leaves fingerprints on our existence. In those shared spaces, we recognize a profound truth: life is not a solitary journey, but a collective one.
Our lives spill into one another’s, in kindness, in memory, in presence. And when we ask “What is life?” perhaps part of the answer lies in this: it is not just my life, or yours, but the vast, interwoven story of us.
Life as Mystery
And yet, even with all the words we pour into trying to explain it, life remains a mystery. What gives it meaning for one person may not resonate with another.
What feels eternal today may seem fragile tomorrow. Life never stops shifting beneath our feet, and maybe that’s what keeps it alive.
If we knew the final answer, perhaps the urgency of living would fade. Instead, life’s uncertainty makes it precious.
Mortality makes mornings matter. The unknown makes us pause at sunsets, hold people tighter, risk vulnerability, and say the things that need saying.
So, What is Life?
It is biology and breath, yes—but it is also laughter at the dinner table, courage in the face of loss, the thrill of first beginnings, and the quiet ache of endings.
Life is absurd, profound, ordinary, extraordinary—all at once.
Perhaps the most honest response to “What is life?” is not a tidy definition but an invitation. To taste it. To risk it. To notice it. To live it.
Because life is not found in the answer, but in the living of the question.
And maybe life, after all, is nothing more than the art of being here—fully, fleetingly, beautifully aware..
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Very aggressive with each other, getting far closer to me than they normally would in smaller numbers, no doubt to beat out their accomplices (that’s what you call individual crows in a murder, right?) for a peanut.
My phone camera wouldn’t cooperate, so no pictures of the tumultuous, seething black mass, but I did get this unpleasant shot:
Hopefully, the hawk’s just interested in the squirrels, right? Right?!
What is Life?
“What is life?” Three simple words, yet a question that has lingered on humanity’s tongue since the beginning of time.
We ask it in classrooms, in quiet midnight hours, on mountaintops, and in hospital corridors. We ask it when we are overflowing with joy and when we are bent beneath sorrow.
The question is timeless because the answer keeps changing as we move through our days.
Life as More Than Survival
At its most basic, science tells us life is the spark of biology. It’s cells dividing, lungs breathing, blood carrying oxygen, and energy being transferred to sustain us.
But if life were only this, it would be little more than existence.
To live is more than to survive. It is to feel, to question, to create, to connect. It is to weave meaning into the rhythm of heartbeat and breath.
Human history proves this. If survival were enough, we would have stopped after discovering fire.
Instead, we built civilizations, wrote poetry, painted murals in caves, composed symphonies, and sent ships into galaxies. Deep down, we know survival alone is not living.
Life as a Question of Meaning
Meaning is not delivered to us like a parcel waiting at the door. It is carved, often slowly, with choices, beliefs, and encounters.
As philosophers like Camus suggested, life can feel absurd until we decide otherwise. And perhaps that is the thrilling paradox of it—life itself offers no blueprint, and so we are free to design it.
For one person, meaning may be found in raising children. For another, it may be discovered in art, prayer, or scholarship.
Others may catch glimpses of it while standing by the ocean, or in the silent moments of healing after heartbreak.
Life, then, is not just what happens to us—it is the meaning we build out of what happens.
Life as a Symphony of Moments
Think of your most cherished memory. Chances are, it was not something grand or cinematic, but something small that pulsed with fullness.
The laughter you couldn’t control. The quiet assurance in your grandmother’s hands. The long walk home on a rainy evening when the world smelled of earth and beginnings.
Life hides in these moments. It is not waiting somewhere in the distance, ready to reveal itself once we achieve enough, earn enough, or prove enough.
It is right here, in the shifting of light across the window, in the warmth of shared silence, in the breath you are taking this very second.
Life as Growth and Becoming
Perhaps life is not so much a fixed definition as a continuous becoming. The self you were five years ago is not the self you hold today—and that is life at work. It bends us, breaks us, teaches us, and rebuilds us.
Like nature shifting through seasons, life too has its winters of loss and its springs of rebirth. The storms do not last forever.
And even in the moments of stillness that feel empty, something within us is germinating. Life is that steady reminder: you are still becoming.
Life as Connection
To be alive is also to belong. Love, friendships, fleeting encounters with strangers on a train—we are constantly reminded that life is larger than just the self.
The touch of a relationship, whether deep or brief, leaves fingerprints on our existence. In those shared spaces, we recognize a profound truth: life is not a solitary journey, but a collective one.
Our lives spill into one another’s, in kindness, in memory, in presence. And when we ask “What is life?” perhaps part of the answer lies in this: it is not just my life, or yours, but the vast, interwoven story of us.
Life as Mystery
And yet, even with all the words we pour into trying to explain it, life remains a mystery. What gives it meaning for one person may not resonate with another.
What feels eternal today may seem fragile tomorrow. Life never stops shifting beneath our feet, and maybe that’s what keeps it alive.
If we knew the final answer, perhaps the urgency of living would fade. Instead, life’s uncertainty makes it precious.
Mortality makes mornings matter. The unknown makes us pause at sunsets, hold people tighter, risk vulnerability, and say the things that need saying.
So, What is Life?
It is biology and breath, yes—but it is also laughter at the dinner table, courage in the face of loss, the thrill of first beginnings, and the quiet ache of endings.
Life is absurd, profound, ordinary, extraordinary—all at once.
Perhaps the most honest response to “What is life?” is not a tidy definition but an invitation. To taste it. To risk it. To notice it. To live it.
Because life is not found in the answer, but in the living of the question.
And maybe life, after all, is nothing more than the art of being here—fully, fleetingly, beautifully aware..
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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What was the hardest personal goal you’ve set for yourself?
Honestly, the hardest personal goal I’ve ever set was learning to stop setting them.
I’m too much of a go-with-the-flow personality to set goals. For me, goals only magnify my weaknesses, struggles, and how I continually fall short. They make me too hard on myself, and I already do enough of that.
Moreover, goals can make one rigid, fixated on a single thing while missing out on actual living. I’d rather be flexible and have the ability to change course if the journey requires it. Maybe sometimes, even the goal needs changing.
Life is unpredictable. If we cannot achieve the goal we’ve poured our heart and soul into, do we live with regret all our lives? Because that can, and does, happen.
Goals aren’t bad for those who are sure what they’re aiming for and how to pursue it. However, I’ve seen that in the pursuit of these goals, people often neglect or forget to live.
This reminds me of something I once read, a nurse asked dying people what they regretted most. The top five common regrets were: Not living an authentic life (being true to yourself) Working too hard Not expressing your feelings Not staying in touch with friends Not allowing yourself to be happier
These are hard-hitting lessons and reminders of what’s truly valuable in our lives.
Today, if I ever set a goal, it would be to be better than yesterday, to live more intentionally, love more, appreciate people and moments, forgive often, extend grace whenever I’m given the chance, and continue being myself in all my crazy and weird .
I’m also growing older (and maybe just a touch lazy) to think of major goals. Life is unpredictable – and as morbid as it sounds, it can change in a flash. If I still have time to live, I don’t want to regret the things that truly matter.
New Daily Prompt: Do you find life gets gets more difficult with the passing years? Why do you think that is? Are we unreasonably expected to handle more and more as we get older? Or does getting older make the same level of work harder to do?
I believe the answer is this:
The lazy younger generation aren’t pulling their damned weight, and I’m expected to pick up the slack!
For the most part I don’t know who they are nor do I collect their “art” just because of the name behind it. If I like it, I buy it. It’s that simple. They don’t need to be a household name or famous by any means.
Couldn’t NOT purchase this when I laid eyes on it, bought it from a market in downtown VictoriaThere’s no way this lady doesn’t qualify as an artist for creating these, they are one of my favourite pairs of earrings.My daughter Bella-Lena painted this about 5 years ago, she did NOT get her artistic skills from me that’s for hell sureI think I’ve posted this before but there’s just so much I love about it: the wood, the drawing, the dried mushrooms, the sadness of the woman…purchased from an artist in Tofino, BCI’ve bought several pieces from this artist who lives in Edmonton, AB…she is amazing!This silly little creation is mine, as artsy as I get…it’s hanging in my bathroom
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and curious mood! Today’s writing prompt—“What could you try for the first time?”—immediately sparked my imagination.
It’s a question that invites us to step beyond the familiar borders of routine and comfort.
Life, after all, is not meant to be lived in repetition; it’s meant to be experienced in all its colors, its vastness, and its endless possibilities.
When was the last time you did something for the first time? That simple act—tasting the unknown, learning something new, or embracing a challenge—can completely change the rhythm of your existence.
“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.” – Neale Donald Walsch
Because every beginning holds a spark of wonder.
There’s something truly enchanting about beginnings. I still remember my first bicycle ride, my first job interview, my first love, and countless other “firsts” that shaped who I am today.
Each carried a unique mix of excitement and nervousness. That trembling edge—where fear meets curiosity—is where life truly begins.
Trying something new doesn’t always have to be grand or life-changing. Sometimes, it’s the simplest experiences that leave the deepest marks.
One of my favorite memories takes me back to my childhood—days that still bring a warm smile to my face.
Life back then was simple and pure. There were no backpacks weighing us down, no online classes to stress over, and no gadgets to distract us.
We played freely, laughed often, and learned naturally. Relationships were genuine, unfiltered by screens or social media. We were just a bunch of half-pant-wearing kids chasing joy in its purest form.
One particular day stands out as a shining “first.”
It was a lazy Sunday morning when a guest at my home gave me a few rupees as a blessing. For a child, that was no less than winning a lottery!
My friends and I—our little “mischief gang”—decided to celebrate by going to the market for some hot, crispy jalebis (sweet dish). The moment we tasted those golden spirals dripping with syrup, it felt like heaven melting on our tongues.
As we were returning home, something caught our eyes—a small cycle repair shop that also rented out old bicycles to children like us.
We stopped instantly, our hearts racing with excitement. The shopkeeper, amused by our enthusiasm, agreed to rent one for an hour. We pooled our leftover coins and made the deal.
We decided that each of us would take turns riding it. The first friend went wobbling down the road but returned triumphantly. The second one managed well, too. Then came my turn.
I mounted the cycle nervously, my hands trembling as I held the handlebar. The first few meters felt magical—the thrill of motion, the wind brushing past, the feeling of freedom. But before I could fully enjoy it, adventure struck!
As I turned a narrow corner, I saw a laborer carrying a heavy sack on his head. I tried ringing the bell, but it was broken. I panicked, lost control, and bang!—the cycle hit him from behind.
The sack fell, the man stumbled, and my heart nearly stopped. Without waiting to face his anger, I pedaled as fast as I could and vanished from the scene.
When I reached my friends, breathless and guilty, I didn’t say a word. We quietly continued our cycling turns as if nothing had happened.
That was a sense of humor
My friend Shyamlal was next. Cheerful and unaware of what I had done, he rode off in the same direction.
Fate, however, had a sense of humor that day. The laborer, still cleaning his clothes by a nearby hand pump, spotted Shyamlal and—mistaking him for me—grabbed him in fury.
The poor fellow had no idea why he was being scolded and even slapped! After a brief struggle, he escaped and came running back to us, crying and confused.
I wanted to tell him the truth but couldn’t. Fear sealed my lips. So, I carried that secret for years.
Even now, whenever the memory resurfaces, I can’t help but laugh at the innocence, the fear, and the sheer madness of it all. It was my very first cycling experience—messy, funny, and unforgettable.
That incident taught me an important lesson: our “first times” don’t need to be perfect to be meaningful.
Whether it’s learning to ride a cycle, speaking a new language, cooking a new dish, or even trying to make peace with our fears—each first experience is a tiny leap of courage.
Life is full of opportunities waiting for us to say yes.
So, what could you try for the first time? Perhaps it’s painting a picture, learning a musical instrument, starting a garden, or simply striking up a conversation with someone new.
The beauty lies not in perfection, but in participation—in allowing yourself to begin.
Every first attempt brings its share of uncertainty, but it also brings discovery. It reminds us that we are still capable of wonder, still curious, still alive.
So, the next time life offers you a new experience, take it. Don’t wait to be ready—just begin. Because one day, you’ll look back and smile, realizing that your “first times” were not just moments of learning, but milestones of living.
To live fully is to keep trying something for the first time. – Vijay Verma www.retiredkalam.com
The Kodak ColorPlus 200 and 100mm macro lens fun continues. All still shot on my Pentax K1000.
I had one more set of macro shots from the Zen garden, but I didn’t like any of them.
They say you should be happy if you get one great shot from a roll. I haven’t hit a great one on this roll yet, but these next images (save the first) are definitely more pleasing to me than the previous images.
Having tired of being meditative and all Zen-like, I turned away from the sand garden and focused (hehe, see what I did there?) on some blossoms in my backyard.
And was promptly disrespected by Nature for my effort.
But first, a cautionary photo:
This is what happens when you accidentally trigger the shutter before you’re ready to take a picture. f19, 1/2sec. Yes, I screwed up the shot, but I still remembered to record the exposure settings!
Now, on to the disrespect.
I noticed the fly as I was setting up and quickly pivoted to photographing it. The bastard mooned me and then flew off. f6.8, 1/125sec.
But then he came back and posed for me. Perhaps he felt remorse about how he’d initially treated me? f6.8, 1/125sec.
I have to say, a macro photo of a fly in color, while facing you, is more compelling than a B&W macro photo of a fly not facing you.
As I have previously observed, I wish I could zoom in more. In this case, I hadn’t put the extension tubes on yet, so maybe I could have gotten a ‘closer’ look with my existing kit. But I’m starting to consider buying a bigger lens or more extension tube segments (though you can only go so far with that).
This is in direct competition with my research into a Fujifilm GW690, the latest medium format camera I’m toying with purchasing.
I’m not sure there’s a prompt in these images, but you’re welcome to try if you feel so inclined. Perhaps a nightmarish tale of giant, disrespectful teenage flies and a tiny mad scientist telling them to get off his flowers?
Sometimes, life feels like a long walk through silence — a journey where even emptiness whispers.
This poem, The Beggar Within,” is a reflection on endurance, quiet hope, and the beauty that can rise even from the ashes of longing. It is about carrying our unseen wounds with grace until they bloom again in light.
” The Beggar Within”
I am a beggar— in the bowl of my heart lie a few dried flowers, remnants of dreams that once breathed, and words that never learned to speak.
My mind is an empty courtyard, no rest, no arms to hold me, only the echo of my footsteps and the whisper of unseen winds.
I walk the dust-stained roads, carrying my own silence, as if motion itself were my fate, as if life were stretched upon the cold floor of death.
Yet deep within, a tender spark survives— a pulse of quiet hope murmuring, “You are not broken, only becoming.”
And perhaps one dawn, these withered flowers will bloom again, and the bowl of my heart will overflow with fragrance.
As corny as this sounds, I’d go with God. God doesn’t have to be my favorite artist, He is the artist, whether we want Him to be a favorite or not. We cannot deny His hand in every part of this universe. I mean, there are those who deny it, but the fact remains; there is something beyond the explosion or whatever it was, all those years ago.
Every day, when I still myself enough to look around, I’m captivated by this unexplainable beauty.
We have four seasons – spring births life once again. The earth seems to wake up after a long, deep sleep. Nature starts blooming. Buds sprout, signaling the wakened earth. We start hearing different sounds, birds chirping, animals coming out of their homes, there’s movement and life. We also begin to see sparkles and smatterings of color everywhere.
Summer – the flowers are in full bloom, vibrant and warm colors dot the earth’s landscape. We see an abundance of lush green foliage and clear blue skies with the softest clouds floating about. The monsoons remind us how big life is, with the roaring thunder and lightning that flashes across the sky. The pouring rain washes away the old and makes place for the new.
Autumn brings with it the turning of colors, from bright and lively to muted reds, yellows, oranges, and browns. The season holds its own spectacular beauty and warmth, which feels like it radiates newness, rejuvenation, and a longing for softer, gentler living. Autumn somehow brings a sense of contentment. The colors wrap you in joy, peace, and calm. It is the beginning of shedding, as nature prepares to cover itself and rest.
Winter is juxtaposed between the cold on one side and warmth on the other. It has two voices, the stark white snow that covers mountains and plains seems to whisper tranquility, as though saying, it’s okay to slow down and rest for a while. The other side, life is bustling, chaotic. There’s no snow calling you to rest, but the heat that breathes a different kind of life, saying, come, live in the noise, make the most of today.
Then there are the sunrises and sunsets. Sometimes, I feel God is such a show-off. He just throws these colors over the sky, and out comes the most stunning sunrise or sunset. Who knew purple compliments orange? The sky would be bathed in crimson, pink and yellow. Other days, when the sky appears dull, I wonder if God’s having a bad day, and He dabs a few colors, sprinkling them just enough to remind people the sun is setting, and to prepare for a new day.
Besides God, I have my favorites right at home. My teen paints very well but has outgrown it. I hope he’ll find the inspiration and get back to it one day. My little firecracker is immensely talented, she’s a dancing queen, loves to create, draw, and paint. She comes packed with mischief and imagination.
I realized I do not have to look outside for my favorite artists. I have them right beside me, in my arms and in my heart. God – the greatest artist and creator, reveals to us that creation does not stop with Him, but continues through us. His divine artistry flows into my children and every individual, into every act of love, beauty and imagination that we create every day.
All right, all right! I’ve heard all the hype! Sheesh.
So I went out and took a picture of the super moon.
Well, a bunch of pictures with my digital camera, since I had to guide the damn thing in to get a decent exposure.
Pentax K10D, 100mm lens, and because old manual lenses don’t play nice with digital cameras, all I can say now is that the shutter speed was 1/4000sec. Super zoomed in because, well, 100mm lens! Handheld because it was dark and I couldn’t be arsed to break out the tripod.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective mood. Today’s writing prompt is one that touches almost everyone at some point: “When was the first time you really felt like a grown-up (if ever)?”
At first glance, the question seems simple. Isn’t adulthood about birthdays, legal rights, or reaching certain milestones?
But in reality, being a grown-up is far more nuanced. It is not measured by age, but by the moments that test our courage, resilience, and sense of responsibility.
If I try to pinpoint a day when I suddenly felt adult, I can’t. It didn’t happen in a single magical moment. Instead, adulthood crept up quietly, like a gentle tide, revealing itself in unexpected ways—usually when I had no choice but to step up.
The Illusion of Age
As children, we often think adulthood is like a key that unlocks freedom. We believe turning 18 or 21 will suddenly make life exciting, responsibilities manageable, and independence absolute.
But reality is far from that. Paying bills, facing failures, making tough decisions, and being accountable for your own life—and sometimes for others’ lives—does not come with a manual.
Age might give you a legal title of adulthood, but maturity? That is earned in the moments life throws you into the deep end.
That’s why this question—“When did you really feel like a grown-up?”—is so intriguing. It pushes us to look beyond years and focus on experiences that shape our growth.
My First Brush with Adulthood
For me, the first time I genuinely felt like a grown-up was in my early twenties, standing on a train platform with a suitcase in hand, my heart racing, and my future uncertain.
I had secured a job in Jaipur, far from my home, my family, and everything familiar. On paper, it was thrilling: financial independence, new experiences, and the chance to stand on my own two feet.
But underneath the excitement was a deep, gnawing fear. I was leaving behind comfort, support, and certainty.
I had to learn to manage finances, cook meals, and even find a rented house in a remote area—a task that seemed trivial but felt monumental at the time.
And all of it had to be done in a place with different weather, languages, and cultural nuances.
As the train chugged along, I remember a sudden, quiet realization: This is it. There is no safety net. It’s all on me. That moment—the one where fear mixed with anticipation—was when adulthood pressed its weight on my shoulders for the first time.
Responsibility as the True Marker
Adulthood, I learned, is not about age. It’s about responsibility. It’s about showing up when life expects you to, even when you feel unprepared.
During those first months in Jaipur, I had to manage everything alone. From cooking and cleaning to budgeting and planning my days, every detail rested on me.
Slowly, I felt a transformation: the carefree, dependent person I had been was gradually replaced by someone accountable, cautious, and capable.
Think about the first time you paid a bill without help, handled an unexpected problem, or managed a stressful situation.
Those moments carry more weight than any birthday. They test our ability to make decisions calmly and grow under pressure.
The Emotional Shift
True adulthood is also emotional. It’s about empathy, accountability, and understanding others.
I remember the first time I was assigned as a Branch Manager in that distant city. I had to lead people I didn’t know, guide them, and be their support in times of crisis.
My words and actions affected more than just myself. That responsibility—to support others emotionally while maintaining my own balance—was both humbling and eye-opening.
In that moment, I realized adulthood wasn’t just about self-reliance; it was about caring for others, too.
Adulthood Is a Journey
Even now, after retirement, I sometimes feel a return to childhood—no pressing deadlines, no urgent responsibilities, and a freedom to enjoy life at my own pace.
Yet, every time we step up to face challenges with courage, we grow further into adulthood.
Adulthood is not a destination; it is an ongoing journey. Some days we feel fully grown, capable, and resilient. Other days, we revert to our younger selves, seeking comfort or guidance.
But each challenge, responsibility, and moment of accountability adds a new layer to who we are.
My final submission
So, when did I first feel like a grown-up? It was when I stepped away from home and embraced full responsibility for myself.
It wasn’t glamorous, easy, or entirely comfortable—it was uncertain, challenging, and full of mistakes. But in those struggles, I discovered independence, resilience, and the ability to trust myself.
Perhaps that is the beauty of adulthood—it doesn’t arrive all at once. It reveals itself gradually, phase by phase, in small victories, failures, and moments of quiet responsibility. Each one adds depth, maturity, and perspective to our lives.
Dear friends, I leave you with this thought:When was your first grown-up moment? Was it a silent realization, a tough decision, or an unexpected responsibility?
Share your story, because in those moments, we discover the essence of what it truly means to grow up..
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Maybe someday I’ll make time for a creative type of hobby, of course I’d prefer if it made me money somehow.
For now, I’d say my hobbies include walking, reading, writing, scrolling. Not scrolling junk. Well at least if it is junk, it’s good junk. Pinterest things like quotes, fashion, home decorating etc. Or Etsy to check out antiques.
I also love cat naps or micro naps and eating. Knitting dishcloths is also very relaxing.
This poem reflects on the simple beauty of life, celebrating the small moments that bring meaning—hope, love, courage, and belonging.
It reminds us that true life is in the everyday moments that warm our hearts.
# The Flicker of Life #
What is life but a flicker of light, A soft little glow in the hush of night, A mother’s embrace, a child’s sweet song, A hand that holds you when days go wrong..
It’s more than breath, more than we see, It’s hope that whispers, “Come follow me”, It’s hearts that heal, though torn apart, A dream that dances inside the heart.
It’s laughter found on broken roads, A courage that rises with every mistake, A dawn that comes when night has gone, A touch, a glance, a place we belong.”
It’s joy and sorrow, both side by side, A gentle tear that we cannot hide, Not in answers proud or strong— But in each moment we live along.
Who reminds you of your power when you forget it??
Between technology, my better half, and sometimes my lazy brain, I get quite a few thoughtful and challenging prompts. Today’s is courtesy of my better half.
Ahhh, power. That word we like to throw around quite a bit. It reminds me of that line from Spiderman: “With great power comes great responsibility.” Thankfully, I’m not a superhero, I’d never be able to handle that kind of responsibility. Moreover, I’m quite adept at slip-ups, literally and figuratively.
What is power to me? Is it physical, mental or emotional?
Physical power? I’m useless. My energy drains before noon and I’m as light as ever. Sometimes, when it’s windy, I feel I could easily get carried away. But there are physical jobs I’m pretty good at, I think that’s called working smarter, not harder.
Mental and emotional power, though, that’s a different story. Maybe I’ve learned survival skills, developed thicker skin, or perhaps I’m just a happy-go-lucky, go-with-the-flow kind of person. More often, I don’t take life as seriously as I probably should.
What reminds me of my power is when I dust myself off after each setback. I’m too much of an optimist and a realist too. That’s a dichotomy, isn’t it? Still, I hold on to hope. I choose to look for the best and see the best in every situation and in people. Maybe that outlook is a little naïve, but I’ve learned not to generalize situations or people.
Over the years, I’ve realized that power often comes from pain, and from allowing ourselves to be weak. I don’t much care for the idea that we always have to be strong, to get back up the moment we fall. I believe we should linger, lie down, even take a nap if needed, in the falling and the failing. How does one learn if we immediately rise without ever sitting with our weakness?
For me, weakness is another kind of courage. To embrace ourselves, flaws, failures, and all, requires strength. And when we do rise again, not fully recovered but scarred and still moving forward, unsure of tomorrow… that is power.
I also believe power comes from the simple things, laughing with my daughter at her humor, spending time as a family talking nonsense and being silly, listening to your own heartbeat, music that soothes the soul, conversations with your people, catching a sunrise or sunset, the stillness before the world wakes up or late into the night. And perhaps, one of the most powerful, a memory of how you overcame something you once thought you couldn’t. Not to forget a valuable one, finding those wacky memes that may be slightly inappropriate but make you laugh and feed your soul.
Power or strength is not always loud. It hides in the smallest acts of life, in the quiet moments when you simply choose to continue – showing up, even against all odds. Maybe that’s where the reminder lives, not outside, but within, in the gentle voice that says, “You’ve been here before. You’ll rise again.”
New Daily Prompt: Which is worse: the end of the weekend or the start of the work week? Why should I believe you?
They are both awful.
But I find timing plays a role in determining the severity of suckiness.
(Suckiness, of course, I’d is measured in inches of Hg. We’re very precise on this blog site.)
For example, at 9pm on Sunday, the end of the weekend feels pretty damn unbearable. 28″ of Hg.
However, by 6am Monday morning, I’m looking back longingly at 9pm Sunday (now retroactively revised to 23″of Hg) and absolutely hating the life choices that brought me to this crack of dawn moment in time (28″ of Hg).
Strangely, I find 6am, when I’m awake, pretty intolerable every day, but especially on weekdays I work…
I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt question — “What principles define how you live?” — invites a deep reflection on the inner compass that guides our actions, choices, and interactions with the world.
What truly defines the way we live? Success, experience, or the principles that shape our every decision? Here, I explore the timeless values that continue to guide me — integrity, compassion, gratitude, and simplicity — and how they help create a meaningful, balanced life
Yes, Principles are not just lofty ideals written in books or spoken about in philosophy classes; they are the invisible threads that weave the fabric of our lives.
They determine how we respond in moments of crisis, how we treat others, and how we define success, happiness, and fulfillment.
When I pause to think about the principles that define my life, I realize that our principles are like stars — they may not control the tides, but they show us the way.
Yet, a few have remained steadfast, guiding me through calm and storm alike.
1. Integrity — The Foundation of Trust
Integrity, to me, means being honest with myself and with others — even when it’s inconvenient or uncomfortable.
It is easy to live by principles when things are going well, but the true test comes when the situation demands courage.
I’ve learned that integrity is not just about avoiding lies or deceit; it’s about being authentic, consistent, and transparent in every sphere of life.
Whether in personal relationships or professional dealings, I believe integrity earns trust — a currency more valuable than wealth or fame. It allows one to sleep peacefully at night, knowing that actions align with words and conscience.
2. Compassion — The Language of the Heart
Another defining principle in my life is compassion. In a world that often feels divided, empathy and kindness are powerful tools of healing.
Compassion allows us to see the humanity in others — beyond differences of status, belief, or background.
I make a conscious effort to listen more and judge less. A simple smile, a helping hand, or a few kind words can transform someone’s day.
I’ve realized that compassion is not weakness; it is the strength of the highest order. It teaches patience, understanding, and the ability to rise above ego.
3. Gratitude — The Attitude of Abundance
There was a time when I used to chase success and perfection relentlessly, believing happiness would follow.
But over the years, I’ve learned that gratitude transforms everything. When I began appreciating the small blessings — a sunrise, a friend’s message, the sound of rain, or the comfort of home — my life felt fuller and more peaceful.
Gratitude keeps one grounded and prevents the heart from being clouded by complaint or comparison.
It reminds me that no matter the challenges, there is always something to be thankful for — and that mindset itself attracts more joy.
4. Continuous Learning — The Journey Never Ends
The world changes every day, and so should we. I hold firm to the principle that learning never stops.
Each experience, success, and failure has something to teach us. Reading, observing, and reflecting are ways I feed my curiosity and growth.
I admire people who remain students of life — humble enough to know they don’t have all the answers, yet brave enough to keep seeking them.
This principle has taught me to embrace mistakes, adapt to change, and stay mentally young no matter my age.
5. Respect — The Basis of Harmony
Respect is a universal principle that bridges differences. I try to practice respect not only toward others but also toward time, nature, and myself.
When we respect others’ opinions, we nurture understanding; when we respect nature, we honor life itself.
Self-respect, too, plays a crucial role. It means setting healthy boundaries, valuing one’s worth, and not compromising one’s dignity for temporary gains.
Respect is the root of peaceful coexistence — in families, workplaces, and society.
6. Simplicity — The Art of Living Lightly
In an age of excess and noise, simplicity has become my quiet rebellion. Living simply doesn’t mean living less — it means living with clarity and purpose.
I’ve found that when life is uncluttered — both materially and mentally — joy flows more freely.
Simplicity allows me to focus on what truly matters: relationships, creativity, and moments of meaning. It reminds me that peace is not found in accumulation, but in appreciation.
7. Positivity — The Power of Perspective
Life will always bring its share of storms. But the way we respond determines the quality of our journey. I try to look at setbacks as lessons, not losses.
Positivity does not mean denying pain or difficulty; it means refusing to be defined by them
When we nurture optimism, we become beacons of hope — for ourselves and for others. As the saying goes, “Keep your face always toward the sunshine, and shadows will fall behind you.”
My final submission
We all live by certain values — some spoken, some quietly guiding us from within.
The principles that define how I live — integrity, compassion, gratitude, continuous learning, respect, simplicity, and positivity — are like stars guiding me through the night sky of life.
I do not claim to follow them perfectly every day, but I strive to live by them consciously.
They remind me that life’s purpose is not only to achieve but to become — to evolve into a kinder, wiser, and more peaceful version of oneself.
So, dear friends, as you reflect on this question — “What principles define how you live?” — I encourage you to look within.
Your principles are your silent strength, your invisible guideposts. When you live by them sincerely, life aligns beautifully, and every moment becomes a reflection of your truest self.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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In the corner of my Gramma’s dining room was a china cabinet and in the bottom drawer, a white plastic bag full of loose photos. I loved looking through those photos with Gramma. But even as a kid I was a bit perturbed that she couldn’t remember who some of the people were in the pictures and when or where they were taken. Also, I couldn’t believe she had kept them all loose like that and not in albums. My Mom kept all of our photos in albums.
So we started a little project when she bought an album and I started filing them into it. I vowed that when I started taking and processing pictures, I would immediately write on the back of the picture who was in it and when it was taken. Then it would go into a photo album. And I did. From the first time I bought a disposable camera and had it developed. I was probably about 11 or 12.
I’ve now amassed at least a dozen photo albums.
But, in the last ten or so years, I have gotten slack with developing photos off of my phone (I don’t own a camera and haven’t for years). And unfortunately, I’ve also gotten slack with putting them in albums. They are stored in various shoe boxes or the little boxes they come in when they arrive in the mail.
I have over 18,000 photos on my Iphone. Hopefully Gramma is not noticing this from up above.
Back to the prompt, I would be absolutely heartbroken if I lost those photo albums that I keep downstairs in the storage room. Losing possessions is one thing, most objects are replaceable, but my life in the photos can never be replaced.
And you guys know how I love my photos.
Picture of a picture, my sisters & I…I’m top right
Today, possessions don’t mean much. Yes, I do appreciate beautiful things, but I don’t crave them and have no problem giving them away either. I have more than a soft spot for my children’s art. If I were to lose them, I’d be pained, but I also don’t mind giving them away to whoever appreciates them.
Since I’m trying to approach this question in a different way… here goes.
Loss visited our family within a space of a week. We lost two family members, my uncle and then my niece. Two different families, but still within the same extended circle. We are an extra-large family. Every event and occasion, the extended family is involved in family affairs. Being large has its own positives, and it is in times of trouble that we get to experience the blessing of the extended family.
There is that saying, “Family is not always blood but those who choose you,” or something similar. I’m a late bloomer. I never realized the depth of meaning in those words until a few years ago. We grew up in a close-knit family. We were not a joint family, but we were brought up to understand that family sticks together. As cousins, we all grew up together. As families, we knew each other’s business.
My mum, being the youngest, became the default caretaker of her parents and home. Therefore, my uncles and their families visited their mother’s home weekly. Whenever any situation cropped up within the family, we tackled it as one unit. Which meant celebrations, deaths, someone messes up, everything in between, we got together to handle it. The flip side of messing up meant everybody gets to know, and you become the butt of jokes .
That is not to say that as nuclear families we were ‘perfect’. As families, we all had our share of problems. We were not always united. We bickered, gossiped, had misunderstandings and so on, but the moment a family member encountered trouble, we all rallied together. In that moment, we forget or rather put aside all misunderstandings and meet the need. A year back, my mum had major surgery. All the cousins travelled the three hours, stayed with my siblings for the seven hours, and left only when they were reassured she was stable. And that’s how it’s always been, we run to each other, reach out, stay where there’s a need.
So, whenever I hear people saying family is not always blood, I couldn’t comprehend the truth of those words. However, being far from home, the past few years have taught me that there are friends who are more like family. As an individual, I have a few truly good friends. As a family, we have a few people we can count on. I know that in a crisis they’d rush to help. Unfortunately, I’ve also seen how family can just be people one shares a name with. This is hard for me to comprehend and absorb. But the fact that I’m more comfortable sharing my troubles with a friend rather than family says a lot about those dynamics. I also saw my nephew’s friends and how they embody this saying, friends like family. These boys are practically family.
There are families where we are forced to put boundaries in order to preserve the relationship. As much as I see how ridiculous it is, it is also a need when the relationship is fragile or even toxic. That is not to say we shouldn’t have boundaries, but in healthy and respectful relationships, one doesn’t even need them. I believe it is understood by the way we treat and care for each other.
Personally, having family not be your family is a horrendous situation. But we are not perfect, and we don’t live in a utopia. There are times when our chosen family is what is right if we are to thrive and live authentic lives.
Loss has a way of reminding us who truly shows up, not just out of obligation but out of love. When grief enters, the noise fades, and what remains are the hands that hold, the hearts that stay. As the family gathered, cried, prayed, and comforted one another, I saw again that family isn’t a definition, it’s a living presence. It’s those who stand beside you when the world falls apart, whether bound by blood or by choice.
Perhaps that’s what family really is, not a structure, but a heartbeat that keeps time with yours, no matter where it resides.
To address this prompt, I believe it is not what I would do if I lost all my possessions, but what I would do if I lost what matters the most, “people.”
Back to color (Kodak ColorPlus 200) and back to macro. All still shot on my Pentax K1000 with 100mm macro lens.
I decided I needed to find something to help me relax, be more reflective, and give me more opportunities for macro photography that could maybe, just maybe, tell a story.
So I bought a sand Zen garden.
For about $40, it came with a tray, sand, and some props.
Tiny, tiny props.
That are almost perfect for HO scale figures.
First, what we’re dealing with:
Bird’s eye view of the Zen garden. f13.6, 1/2sec.
And a view at an angle. f16, 1sec.
Both images are a little soft focused, which is annoying. And if I had to do all over again (and presumably I will, since that was the whole point of buying the garden), I would add an off-angle light source to provide some interesting shadows. Maybe get an HO scale camel to mimic that satellite shot of the shadows of a line of camels (IYKYK).
I won’t claim to have a cohesive story in this series, but I certainly have images that others could easily form their own stories around.
Hmm. Maybe I should call these writing prompts…
The first involves a poor bastard either pushing against or hiding behind a large, mossy rock.
You decide which. And if you come up with a good idea, I’d love to see it, either in the comments or via a link in the comments to your blog.
f5.6, 1/60sec. What’s happening here? What is this man doing, and why?
f8, 1/4sec, used all three extension tubes. Is he hiding? Pushing? About to be consumed by the mossy green monster? Or something else entirely?
I took multiple pictures of each scene, playing with aperture. And I’m finding, in most cases, I prefer the most stopped down photos due to the greater depth of field. The shallower depth of field images made the rest of the photograph too abstract.
In some cases, I wish I had stopped down even more.
So, what do you think is happening here? Is there a story worth telling?
This poem is a serene dialogue between life and death — not of fear, but of realization. The message is clear: Live with love, face pain with grace, and let every breath be a hymn of courage.
# When Death Smile #
The night was still, the shadows near, And death appeared, yet calm, not fear. She smiled at me, her gaze so kind, A quiet guide for heart and mind.
No words she spoke, yet I could hear, A gentle voice, both calm and clear: “Have you lived well? Have you loved true? Have you felt life in all you do?”
I froze, my heart began to race, A shadow fell across my face. “Is this the end?” I whispered low, “Am I to leave all I now know?”
Then softly stirred a voice inside, “Fear not, my child, let life be your guide. The joys you’ve known, the tears you’ve shed, Have shaped the path where you now tread.”
And memories like rivers flowed — Mother’s lullabies, father’s code, A lover’s smile, a child’s bright eyes, Each moment shining through the skies.
Yes, pain was felt, yes, wounds were deep, Yet lessons stayed, their wisdom keep. For every loss, for every scar, Had made me strong, had made me who we are.
Then light broke through the darkest veil, A morning breeze, a bird’s soft tale. My wife called out, “Arise, awake! The dawn is here, the night must break.”
I rubbed my eyes — a dream, I knew, Yet in my heart, the lesson grew: That death may come, but not to steal, It shows the truth we all must feel.
So live each day with a fearless heart, Let love and courage play their part. For death’s no end, it’s life’s own art, A gentle door… that leads the heart.
I hope this blog finds everyone in a cheerful and reflective mood. Today’s writing prompt truly made me pause: “What have you been putting off doing? Why?”
Like many, my initial thought was that I only delay trivial things—nothing serious.
But a deeper look revealed that our postponed dreams often whisper the hidden truths about who we are, what we fear, and, most importantly, what we hope for.
My Story: Putting Off the Book
A few years ago, I promised myself that someday, I’d write a book.
I had ideas scribbled in forgotten notebooks and a hazy vision of chapters taking shape.
Yet, every day, I’d gently tell myself, “Tomorrow.” Days slipped into weeks, weeks into months, and then—years.
When I searched within, I realized the real reason: fear. Fear of failing, fear of judgment, fear that my words would not matter.
I kept waiting for the mythical “perfect” moment that, as it turns out, never comes.
Why We Procrastinate
If you ever find yourself delaying something close to your heart, know that you’re not alone. Procrastination is a deeply human habit.
Often, it’s rooted in fear—the worry that we may fall short, or that stepping outside our comfort zone will have consequences we can’t foresee.
Many times, the things we fear reveal exactly where we’re meant to grow. The act of starting—imperfectly and with doubt—holds far more power than we imagine.
Procrastination also has a way of wearing disguises. Sometimes, it masks itself as “busyness.” Our days fill up with tasks that seem urgent, but not truly important.
Meanwhile, the goals that spark our curiosity—learning a new skill, building a meaningful connection, exploring creativity—are quietly put aside.
Life, it turns out, is always busy. Waiting for just the right moment is often how dreams quietly fade.
Self-doubt is another familiar companion. Many people I’ve met want to start something meaningful—launch a business, travel solo, learn music—but hold back, feeling “unprepared.”
The truth? Readiness is a myth. The first step is never perfect, but it is always transformative.
The Turning Point: Tiny Habits, Big Change
Looking back, there was a pivotal moment. I realized that the cure for delay wasn’t found in a surge of motivation, but in the discipline of small actions.
Instead of trying to write an entire book in a burst of inspiration, I resolved to write for just fifteen minutes a day. Just fifteen minutes—not enough to feel overwhelming, but enough to matter.
That simple habit shattered my mental barrier. Ideas began to flow more freely. I learned that progress isn’t about perfection—it’s about movement.
Sometimes, the reasons for our delays run deep. Maybe we avoid something because it asks us to become someone new.
Moving to a new city, changing a routine, or facing a long-standing fear brings discomfort.
Yet, growth follows every honest confrontation with procrastination. The things we’ve put off ask: Are you ready to grow?
My Breakthrough and a Challenge I felt
Time, I’ve learned, is relentless. The things we keep deferring can shape our story, for better or worse.
But when we face procrastination with honesty, courage, and even curiosity, we find that delay can be transformed into discovery. Fears become growth, uncertainty becomes learning, and hesitation becomes genuine momentum.
In my own life, this brought me not just one, but two published books—with two more on the way. What changed? I stopped waiting and started—imperfectly, modestly, but persistently.
So, here’s my heartfelt challenge: What are you putting off?
Not just the minor chores, but those hopes that stir your soul or excite your curiosity.
Pick one. Call that friend, write the first line, sign up for the class, or simply take a thoughtful walk. The step doesn’t have to be perfect—it just has to be now.
History is rich with examples. – J.K. Rowling faced rejection after rejection before – Harry Potter’s magic reached readers. – Colonel Sanders launched KFC in his sixties.
These stories remind us that the act of beginning, even in the shadow of fear and delay, can change everything.
My Final Submission
Let’s look honestly at our “to-do list of dreams.” Choose one thing you’ve postponed, and take that first step—not tomorrow, not next week, but today. The greatest regret isn’t failing—it’s never starting at all.
Let’s move from hesitation to discovery, from fear to growth, together.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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This heartfelt love poem compares the rain to the beloved’s presence—calming, nurturing, and deeply missed. It captures the longing for reunion and the comfort found in cherished memories during a monsoon.
Whispers in the Rain
Today’s rain feels like touching you, calming my soul, feeling love as true. Each drop whispers your tender name, stirring love’s waves, like a gentle flame.
This rainfall drowns me in memories sweet, your eyes, your voice, as our hearts meet. The drizzle hums your words so near, heavy rain wraps me, like you’re here.
Without you, this rain feels incomplete, like starless nights, cold and discreet. Your love hides in these clouded skies, pulling me close through your tearful eyes.
These clouds, this rain, they carry your trace, your warmth, your touch, your soft embrace. Each moment drenched in thoughts of you brings joy and hope as a world made new.
With every storm, my heart beats fast, yet your love remains, forever to last. This rain will fade, but you will stay, the hope that guides me every day.
Since the prompts keep repeating, I’ll just come up with my own if I’m not lazy to exercise the brain. But to answer this prompt, I’ve changed my mind about many things. If I didn’t, that would mean I have not learned or grown. Growth means unlearning and re-learning.
Some of the silliest wisdom I’ve learned has come from my children. My teen is all grown up now, always a gentle soul, not much mischief there . But my little girl? She’s her mother’s daughter . A firecracker who refuses to be boxed in, she’s challenged every parenting rule book. Yet somehow, we’re richer in attitude because of it.
The lessons I thought I was teaching her, that imperfection is fine, that exams are more about learning than marks, that life isn’t just about winning but enjoying the participation, they all come back to me through her. And then there are her honesty bombs, “What’s your age? You’re so old, Mom.” To her, even the 90s are ancient history . But then suddenly she’ll turn philosopher, What is life? What is reality? Why are we here? Will God make a second earth? Is there a second life? Proof, once again, that philosophers really do exist in growing shoes.
Life has also taught me that gravity does not negotiate, it always wins. I’ve made falling an art form to be envied, just ask my family. Give me any flat surface and somehow my body finds its way to the floor .
And then there’s laughter. It’s not just good medicine, it also burns calories, strengthens jaws, and maybe even the heart (?). By that logic, bad jokes aren’t just silly… they’re a form of cardio.
Safe to say, wisdom comes from unexpected places. It may appear silly, but it’s the silly wisdom that teaches us more. And even if it’s not wisdom, at least we get to laugh. Who doesn’t appreciate laughter?
I hope this blog finds you in good spirits. Today, I want to explore a question that is both exciting and deeply meaningful: “If you had a million dollars to give away, who would you give it to?”
At first, it seems simple—give money to those in need—but as I thought about it, I realized this question is really about vision: how can one act of generosity ripple outward to create lasting impact?
Money, after all, is just a tool. Its true value comes from how it is used.
A million dollars could satisfy personal desires, but it could also transform lives, uplift communities, and spark hope in places where it is most needed.
Education: Lighting the Path Forward
I remember meeting a young girl in a small village school during the “village adoption Scheme” adopted by my Branch while I was in the Bank.
She had a sharp mind and a curious spark in her eyes, yet her school had no books and no computers.
Her talent was real, but opportunity was scarce. With part of the million dollars, I would create scholarships for children like her—students who have potential but lack the means to pursue it.
These scholarships wouldn’t just reward academic performance —they would support creativity as well. A budding musician, a young painter, or a student passionate about coding should have the chance to develop their skills.
Imagine this girl receiving a computer, access to lessons, and the mentorship she needs. Years later, she might become a scientist, a teacher, or an artist whose work touches countless lives.
Education is not just about knowledge; it is about unlocking possibilities.
Healthcare: Restoring Well-Being
During my own life, I’ve seen how fragile health can be, especially for senior citizens.
I recall visiting an elderly neighbor who struggled to afford regular check-ups, much less treatment for chronic illness. Access to healthcare shouldn’t be a privilege—it should be a right.
A portion of the million dollars would go toward supporting local clinics, providing vaccinations, and ensuring mental health care reaches even the most remote areas.
When people are healthy, they can care for their families, work productively, and contribute to their communities.
Improving healthcare is an investment not only in individual lives but in society as a whole.
Environmental Conservation: Protecting Our Home
I once walked through a forest where the trees had been felled illegally. The silence left behind by lost wildlife was haunting.
A part of this hypothetical windfall would go to organizations working to protect forests, oceans, and wildlife.
Education on sustainable living would be another priority—teaching communities to reduce waste and care for the Earth.
When people learn to respect the planet, they make choices that protect it for future generations.
Preserving the environment is not just an act of charity—it is a responsibility to all living beings.
Supporting Artists and Creativity
Art has always held a special place in my heart.
I recall meeting a young painter who struggled to afford basic supplies, yet transformed the streets into their canvas, creating stunning images with colored chalks.
People see and appreciate their art and give him some money for their livelihood.
Yes, despite limited resources, they poured their heart into their art and even sold some pieces to support themselves.
Their dedication and talent were truly inspiring. Creativity, in all its forms, has the power to inspire empathy, spark innovation, and add profound meaning to life.
I would dedicate a portion of the funds to grants and foundations that nurture artists—whether painters, writers, musicians, or storytellers—providing them the support to pursue their passion and reach their full potential.
Investing in their work does more than sustain the artists — it enriches society as a whole.
An empowered artist today can touch thousands of lives tomorrow. Supporting creativity is an investment in culture, beauty, and the human spirit, ensuring that art continues to inspire, connect, and transform communities.
Turning Dreams Into Reality
Finally, a portion of the money would go to helping individuals pursue their passions.
I picture a friend who wants to open a small bakery after years of experience. With the right support, dreams can come true.
Life is about experiences, love, and shared memories.
Enabling people to create unforgettable moments for themselves and their loved ones—whether through travel, celebrations, or community projects—is one of the most profound forms of generosity.
The joy that spreads from these acts is immeasurable, echoing far beyond the initial gift.
My Final Submission
If I had a million dollars to give away, I would focus on education, healthcare, environmental conservation, creativity, and empowerment.
Each dollar would be a tool to unlock potential, heal, inspire, and protect. A million dollars may be finite, but its impact can be limitless.
Ultimately, this exercise is about more than money—it is about values, vision, and the courage to imagine a better world.
Through thoughtful generosity, one can spark a ripple effect that transforms not only individual lives but society itself.
And perhaps, in dreaming about giving, we learn something important about ourselves: what we care about, what we hope to see in the world, and the legacy we wish to leave behind.
It’s important to remember that even small acts of giving can have a ripple effect, and every dollar can make a difference.
What would you do with a million dollars? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Which one? There’ve been oh so many times I felt out of place.
Elementary school when I was in neither of the cool kid groups, just the messenger who carried the notes back and forth between them.
High school, where it seemed like everyone else had stuff going on but me. They were busy with sports or band or the yearbook. Always on Monday laughing about their weekend antics. It felt like I watched from the outside.
Summer camp, where the kids all seemed to know each other AND the camp counselors. This bible camp was not a camp from my church or even the same denomination so I was definitely an outsider. I think I had begged my Mom to let me go there because the boy I’d had a mad crush on would be there. It was very lonely.
As I got older I found myself in fewer situations where I felt out of place. You get to be choosier as you age, as to where you go and who you will spend time with.
That’s not to say I always feel like I fit in well but even when I don’t, I’m okay with it. There are some “peopley” situations I’d rather not be a part of. I’m fine with being alone, eating alone. A glass of wine in a lounge alone.
You could not swim Above the waves You tried and cried But again you failed With arms flailing We watched you slowly drown Piece by piece Swallowed into the abyss Until nothing remained
You had so much life A life unlived Now unwritten, unfinished Blowing like the sands of time Dust in the wind
The voices inside you Were just too loud Swallowing you whole Inside out You shut out the voices That reached for your pain Arms that would hold you To love you just the same
And now we stare At your lifeless frame, The waters you swam into Claim you whole. Drawn into the depths, Beyond our reach Where silence holds you, And you are free To just be you once again.
Shine Bright on World Smile Day
Hello, dear friends!
Today is special—it’s World Smile Day, a day dedicated to celebrating the simplest yet most transformative gesture we can share: a smile.
While many of us know that a smile can lift our mood, today, let’s dive deeper into the science, magic, and subtle joys behind this small but mighty expression.
The Sunshine Boy Philosophy
They call me the “Sunshine Boy,” not just because I love a good beach day, but because I’ve discovered a secret ingredient for a brighter outlook: a smile.
In college, my hostel friends often relied on me to lighten the mood during late-night study sessions, fueled by caffeine and questionable pizza choices.
A joke, a goofy face, a hearty laugh—it didn’t just lift spirits; it created bonds. But over time, I realized a smile is more than a stress reliever—it’s a superpower.
One memory stands out vividly. During a trip abroad, I spotted a little boy crying inconsolably in a park, his worried mother nearby.
I offered a friendly smile, and almost instantly, his tears gave way to curiosity, then laughter. Soon, we were both laughing together, a powerful reminder of the universal language of happiness.
Lesser-Known Facts About Smiles
Smiles Can Influence Perception of Time: A study from the University of Kansas found that people who smile genuinely perceive time as passing faster during stressful tasks.
Happiness literally makes time feel lighter!
Even Fake Smiles Have Benefits: Research suggests that even forced smiles can trigger the release of endorphins, tricking the brain into feeling happier.
So, even when the day is rough, turning up the corners of your mouth helps.
Smiling Can Reduce Blood Pressure: Scientists have discovered that smiling can create a calming effect on the body, lowering heart rate and blood pressure. It’s like a mini natural relaxation therapy.
Mirror Neurons at Work: Our brains have special neurons called “mirror neurons,” which make us instinctively mimic the facial expressions of others.
Seeing a smile can unconsciously make you smile too—proof that happiness spreads like wildfire.
Smiles Build Trust in Seconds: According to a University of California study, people can judge trustworthiness in less than a tenth of a second—often by the presence of a genuine smile.
First impressions truly do matter!
Smiling Through Lifestyle Choices
A smile isn’t just an occasional gesture—it’s a reflection of a positive lifestyle. Here’s how I fuel mine:
Exercise: My day starts with a walk, light exercises, and swimming. Movement releases dopamine and serotonin, naturally enhancing happiness.
I also enjoy indoor games and stretching, which not only benefit my health but give me a sense of accomplishment and energy.
Meditation & Yoga: Finding inner peace is essential. Meditation clears the mind of negativity, while yoga harmonizes body and breath.
Together, they build mental clarity, resilience, and a calm confidence that naturally shows in my smile.
Hobbies & Nature: Painting, drawing, blogging, and exploring nature recharge me emotionally. Watching sunsets, hiking, or even photographing a single flower allows me to savor beauty and feel gratitude—both of which radiate through a smile.
Cooking, experimenting with new recipes, and sharing meals with loved ones also bring immense joy and satisfaction.
The Ripple Effect of a Smile
Here’s the magic: smiles are contagious and transformative. One smile can start a chain reaction of positivity.
It doesn’t require words, currency, or effort—just intention. A genuine smile at a stranger, a colleague, or even someone you pass on the street can brighten their day and, often, your own.
Interestingly, psychologists have found that people who smile more frequently are perceived as more approachable, trustworthy, and likable.
And that’s not all—smiling can also lower stress in social situations, creating smoother interactions and stronger connections.
Your Smile is Your Superpower
Yes, when you ask me why I smile, my answer is simple: Life brings challenges, but how we respond defines us. Smiling helps us find the strength to face them.
World Smile Day reminds us that happiness is both personal and shared.
When we choose to smile, we not only uplift ourselves but also spread warmth and hope to others.
In a world often filled with uncertainty, a smile is a gentle yet potent tool that transcends language, culture, and age.
Challenge for Today
I encourage you to celebrate World Smile Day by sharing smiles wherever you go. Notice the reactions, and see how quickly positivity spreads.
Take a moment to connect with strangers, friends, or family—not through words, but with the simple power of your smile.
Document your experiences, reflect on the changes in your mood, and watch as small moments of joy ripple through your community.
Remember, a smile is free, universal, and limitless. It’s a gift we can give anytime, anywhere.
So go ahead—smile at the world, and watch it smile back. Let’s build a sunshine-filled community, one smile at a time.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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A tender and evocative poem reflecting on the enduring presence of a loved one, even in absence. It captures how memories and emotions linger like whispers in rain, stars, and silence—eternal imprints on the heart.
Stay in the Memory
I hear your voice in the hush of night, Humming softly in a tender light. Your absence lingers like falling rain— Gentle on my heart, yet heavy with pain.
The sky remembers your gentle eyes, Like stars that gleam in forgotten skies. Each drop of rain becomes your touch, A fleeting moment, yet meaning so much.
Though distance keeps our worlds apart, You live within the corners of my heart. Longing blooms where shadows stay, Your love endures in its quiet day.
And if the dawn forgets your name, My soul will whisper it all the same. Yes, time may fade but never erase The warmth of your eternal embrace.
Although this question is recycled, it’s still good enough to answer again. After all, I’m not sure how many recycled memories I have left.
Where don’t I feel out of place? When you’ve been a rebel without a cause most of your life, you tend to stick out like a sore thumb.
One incident that comes to mind, a friend had organized a seminar for corporates at a five-star hotel. He casually “invited” me, so I mentioned it to another friend and off we went. I even dressed the part in formal wear. The seminar, of course, was crawling with corporates who all knew what they were there for. We didn’t know anyone, nor did we understand what the speeches were about. To the casual observer, it looked like we had crashed the event, which, technically, we did .
So, since we went for the food, we enjoyed the snacks and waited for lunch. Once we’d had our fill, we left . Shameless and gluttonous, yes, but honestly, where else would we have got free lunch at a five-star? It makes us sound like we were starving and deprived, but in truth we were also in our 20s. I don’t think maturity, free food and five-star ever go hand in hand.
Fast forward to more recent years, I attended a friend’s baby shower. Most of the guests were from church, familiar faces, but not people I “knew.” If conversations with walls were possible, I would have pulled it off. Thankfully, my daughter (just growing out of her infancy then) became my perfect excuse to slip away gracefully.
That day cemented something I’d already been feeling, I prefer small, intimate settings, especially for special events. The only large crowd where I feel truly comfortable is back home, with my family, within the four walls of our home.
I hope this blog finds you hale and hearty. Today, I want to reflect on an intriguing and thought-provoking question:
“What was the hardest personal goal you’ve set for yourself?”
At first glance, it looks simple. But when I sat with it, I realized the hardest goals are not the ones that look impressive from the outside. They are the ones that shake you from within, that demand you to shed an old skin and step into the unknown.
And for me, that hardest goal was nothing less than reinventing myself—from a banker to an artist and writer.
A Life of Numbers and Routine
For over three decades, I lived a structured, predictable life as a banker. My world revolved around numbers, ledgers, accounts, and systems. It was steady and respectable, but deep down, I often felt an emptiness I couldn’t name.
The job gave me security, but not joy. Over time, monotony crept in like an invisible fog. I asked myself quietly: Is this how I want to spend the rest of my life?
That restless whisper grew louder until one day, I decided to take a leap. I opted for voluntary retirement.
At first, it felt liberating. But soon, a bigger question loomed: What now?
The Spark of a New Dream
The answer came to me unexpectedly. Around that time, my granddaughter started taking painting lessons. I often accompanied her to the art center, and while waiting, I would sit quietly, watching the artist at work.
There was something magical about those moments—the swirls of color, the freedom of expression, the way a blank canvas slowly came alive.
A thought struck me: Could I ever do this? Could I hold a brush and paint my own world?
At first, I dismissed it. After all, I was a retired banker, not a painter. But the idea wouldn’t leave me. One day, I finally asked the artist if it was too late for me to start. He smiled and said words that changed my life:
“Yes, you can. But you must remain consistent—no matter how small the steps.”
Those simple words lit a fire in me.
The Struggle of Reinvention
It might sound poetic now, but the journey was anything but easy. Picking up a brush or writing my first lines wasn’t the real challenge. The hardest part was battling my own doubts.
Am I too old for this? – What if people laugh at me? – What if I’m not good enough?
The inner critic spoke louder than any external obstacle. Many days, I felt like quitting. Some paintings looked clumsy, some words felt lifeless. I compared myself to others and felt small.
But I kept reminding myself: Consistency is the key. Inspiration can carry you for a day, but only discipline can carry you for years.
Breaking Down the Impossible
At the beginning, even the thought of publishing a book or holding an art exhibition felt impossible. But I realized that the only way forward was to break the dream into smaller, gentler steps.
I began with short blogs and small poems instead of big manuscripts. I experimented with little sketches and canvases rather than worrying about exhibitions.
Each small success gave me courage. A finished poem, a painted canvas, a kind comment from a reader—these became milestones on my road. They weren’t grand achievements, but they were proof that I was moving.
And slowly, the impossible began to feel possible.
Lessons from the Hardest Goal
Looking back, my journey taught me lessons that no career in banking ever could:
Fear is natural, but it doesn’t define you. The unknown feels terrifying, but courage is simply the act of moving forward despite fear.
Small steps matter. Consistency builds mountains. Even ten minutes a day eventually turns into something remarkable.
Failure is not the end. Rejections, imperfect art pieces, or unfinished drafts are not signs of defeat. They are stepping stones.
Identity is fluid. I learned that you are never “too old” or “too late” to reinvent yourself. We are capable of becoming more than one thing in a lifetime.
The Fulfillment of Becoming
Today, when I look back, I realize the hardest part of this goal wasn’t learning how to paint or write. The hardest part was simply believing in myself enough to try.
And yet, that belief has given me the most fulfilling journey of my life. I no longer introduce myself only as a retired banker. I can now say with pride: I am an artist. I am a writer.
That shift in identity means more than any promotion or title I ever held. It has filled my life with purpose, creativity, and joy.
My Final Submission
So, when I think about the hardest personal goal I’ve ever set, I see it not as a single achievement but as a transformation. From numbers to colors, from monotony to imagination, from doubt to self-belief—this goal reshaped me completely.
And that, I believe, is the true beauty of hard goals. They’re not just about reaching a destination. They’re about the person you become along the way.
Dear friends, I encourage you to reflect on your own hardest goals. Don’t just think of the glamorous ones.
Think of the ones that tested you, humbled you, and shaped you. Because in the end, those are the goals worth remembering.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I, too, remember the days before computers. But I also recall the excitement they brought into our lives. And that was pre-internet days. The world wide web was unheard of but we were happy to feel so “new age” in our computer lab at school.
What I don’t recall very clearly is what we were so excited about, on computers but without internet. I remember loving the arrow keys to play King’s Quest. Saving things on a disk. Saving what, I don’t know.
If computers were suddenly wiped off the face of the planet then I suppose smart phones would be too, as they are basically mini computers. I think I’d be okay with it for the most part. I guess blogging wouldn’t be a thing though, which makes me a bit sad.
Life would slow down a bit. That’s surely a good thing. Snail mail instead of email. Telephone calls instead of texting or other messaging apps. We’d do a lot less communicating wouldn’t we? So that could be a bad thing.
I’d miss googling the entire cast of whichever show I’m currently streaming. I’d miss googling the symptoms when I’m under the weather and diagnosing myself with probably four months to live. I’d definitely miss all of the recipes on Pinterest. Not to mention the memes that never cease to amaze me with their clever humour. How do people take a simple sentence and make it oh so funny?!
I think I’ll keep computers actually.
Took this on my walk to work yesterday am.This is me…
The past few days I’ve felt like I’m lagging behind. The days march forward, as normal as they can, but I seem stuck somewhere, trying to catch up, only to watch time slip past, almost mocking my slowness. It feels like I’ve reached the end of the line, while the line itself barely moves.
Today was a holiday, which meant a rare chance to sleep in. The problem with sleeping in, though, is that routines fall apart. Flexibility, they say, is key, but I wish my body were half as flexible. Those exercises hurt more than they help. My teen, in all his gym wisdom, suggested I just stick to walking. Not the most encouraging advice, considering that he’s a fitness freak. The walk has long taken a backseat. Blame it on the overstaying rain. I find myself waiting for the skies to clear, hoping my life can get back on track.
This holiday also carried weight: Gandhi’s birth anniversary, coinciding with another festival. But when we stepped out, it all seemed quieter than I remember. Once upon a time, festivals meant best clothes, bustling visits, the buzz of family and friends. Now, it feels muted. Perhaps people are saving for Diwali, which is just around the corner. Or maybe festivals themselves have begun to lose their spark. The cost of living chokes celebrations, and job security feels like a fading myth. Uncertainty seems to sit at everyone’s table.
And then came heavier news from home. A niece, still young, still with so much unwritten, passed away. It was her lifestyle choices that gradually wore her down. Choices that we as a family tried, again and again, to steer her away from. But as the saying goes, you can lead a horse to the well, but you cannot make it drink. That’s the heartbreak: when someone cannot, or will not, find the strength to fight their inner voices and demons.
It hurts more when a young life is snuffed out by their own choices. For the family as a whole, holding onto hope became less about believing she would change, and more about not giving up on ourselves. The regrets will always linger: did we try hard enough, say the right things, offer the right help? Yet, the truth remains, she was led to the well. And she chose not to drink.
Perhaps that is the hardest lesson time teaches us. That while it slips away in front of our eyes, mocking us for lagging, it also reminds us of what we cannot control. And yet, in the midst of it all, we hold on to hope, not because it changes outcomes, but because it keeps us human.
And so life goes on, tugging at us in a hundred different ways. My daughter’s mid-term exams begin tomorrow, and the battle for studying is going on in full swing. With her usual snark, she wondered aloud if teachers actually meet to discuss how best to torture kids with more studying. Maybe that’s the balance life insists on giving us, a mix of grief and giggles, endings and beginnings, sorrow and snark, reminding us that even when time slips, we still find reasons to smile.
When was the last time you treated yourself like a friend instead of a faulty project to be fixed?
Social media is filled with random acts of kindness, which is good and needed too. They’re heartwarming, and they remind us the world isn’t always as bad as it looks.
Personally, I try to practice as much kindness as I can, to friends, family, even strangers. But when it comes to myself, kindness is something I not only fall short on but often forget. I think, as women and nurturers, it feels almost inbuilt to look after everyone else and overlook ourselves. We carry everyone’s weight and reach out to anyone in need. And in the process, we exhaust ourselves without realizing it. Only when burnout hits do we think of treating ourselves kindly, and even then, it comes laced with guilt.
So what does self-kindness actually look like? For me, lately, it’s been about small indulgences. A nap when I need it (sometimes when my aching body forces it), or letting myself eat junk food when I want to, bad decisions I’ll happily regret later .
But maybe self-kindness isn’t just indulgence. Maybe it’s about permission. Permission to allow myself slip-ups, to stop holding myself to impossible standards, to believe in my worth, to slow down without apology and exist without guilt, for some parts anyways. Why must I feel guilty for choosing fries over salad, or for calling a nap “lazy”?
The truth is, I’m still learning how to be kind to myself. And maybe kindness isn’t about fixing the faulty project at all. Maybe it’s remembering I’m not a project, I’m a person. A weird, strong, slightly wild, mischievous, sometimes crazy person. And that’s more than enough.
And if all else fails, there’s always coffee and cheesecake, which, let’s be honest, feel like the purest forms of self-kindness anyway .
Today, October 2nd, India marks the birth anniversaries of Mahatma Gandhi and Lal Bahadur Shastri—two leaders whose lives defined the soul of our nation.
Gandhi Jayanti celebrates the Father of the Nation, Mahatma Gandhi, while Lal Bahadur Shastri Jayanti honors our humble second Prime Minister.
Both men stood for values that remain crucial and inspiring in modern times.
Mahatma Gandhi: The Messenger of Nonviolence
Gandhi ji dreamt of an India free not just from colonial rule, but from hatred, injustice, and division.
His weapon: Ahimsa, or non-violence—a concept extending beyond physical peace to include gentleness of heart and mind.
Gandhi taught that Ahimsa meant opposing not only violence in action, but in words and thoughts as well. To him, true nonviolence was love in practice.
One of his most enduring lessons was:
“You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.” This simple truth anchored Gandhi’s hope—even in difficult times.
His principle of Satyagraha, meaning “truth force,” was a revolutionary tool for personal and collective growth.
It was not merely a political strategy, but a life philosophy: to pursue truth through love and nonviolence. With courage and conviction, Gandhi and his followers faced oppression. His words resonate strongly even today:
“You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind.”
The Global Impact of Gandhi’s Philosophy
Gandhi’s message reached far beyond Indian borders. Leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. and Nelson Mandela drew inspiration from his commitment to nonviolent resistance.
So powerful has his legacy been, the United Nations now observes October 2nd as the International Day of Non-Violence.
One story stands out—the Salt March of 1930. With the humble commodity of salt as his focus,
Gandhi led a peaceful 240-mile protest against British monopoly, awakening millions to their power and rights.
Through Satyagraha, even the smallest injustices demanded peaceful confrontation.
Lesser-Known Dimensions of Gandhi’s Life
Vegetarianism as Activism: Gandhi viewed vegetarianism as a stand against violence. His diet was a reflection of his philosophy for compassionate living.
The Spinning Wheel: Gandhi popularized the charkha as a symbol of self-reliance. Many don’t know he learned to spin cotton late in life, encouraging self-sufficiency as resistance to British control.
Gandhi’s teachings urge us to resist evil not with hatred, but with love and truth. In his own words:
“If we start resisting evil with evil, violence with violence, anger with anger, then we are only adding fuel to the fire.” His advice is more relevant now than ever.
Remembering Lal Bahadur Shastri: The Quiet Champion
October 2nd is also the birth anniversary of Lal Bahadur Shastri, India’s second Prime Minister. Shastri ji embodied humility, integrity, and responsibility.
Through his slogan, “Jai Jawan, Jai Kisan” (Hail the soldier, Hail the farmer), he reinforced the importance of unity and national guardianship.
A few lesser-known facts about Shastri ji:
The Humble Hero: After a tragic train accident in 1956, he resigned as Railway Minister, accepting moral responsibility—showing rare accountability in politics.
The Silent Revolutionary: Inspired by Gandhi, Shastri joined the Salt Satyagraha and spent more than two years in prison for his role. His life was one of quiet courage and deep commitment to the nation’s welfare.
Champion of Food Security: As Prime Minister, he steered the Green Revolution, securing food for millions, and prioritized both defense and agricultural advancement.
The Lasting Legacy
Today, as we honor Gandhi and Shastri, we reflect on the lives of simplicity, truth, and service. Their examples show us the strength in humility, resilience in truth, and the transformative power of nonviolence.
Let their teachings guide us, especially in times of division—reminding all that lasting peace can only be achieved through the force of love, unity, and understanding.
Thank you for reading. Share your reflections and let the light of these great leaders lead us towards a harmonious future.
Happy Gandhi Jayanti and Lal Bahadur Shastri Jayanti!
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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New Daily Prompt: Ever find yourself overloaded with work, only to have to wait for something outside your control to finish the critical task? But unable to move over to other critical tasks in the meantime?
If icy stares could kill, there’d be books about my legendary killing sprees.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and lively mood. The air is filled with excitement as Dussehara celebrations sweep across our city.
The nine-day Durga Puja is not merely a religious festival; it is a canvas painted with colors, lights, laughter, and music—a time when families come together and communities celebrate the rhythm of life.
This year, the celebrations have been particularly special for me, because one unforgettable day made me feel young at heart and alive in spirit.
Yesterday, our community organized a cultural extravaganza. From tiny children nervously stepping onto the stage to senior citizens showcasing their experience and flair.
Yes, the event was a kaleidoscope of talent.
There were dance performances that made the floor come alive, singing competitions that tugged at hearts, painting contests that brought imagination to life, and short plays (Natak) that told stories of courage, love, and tradition.
Everywhere, there was energy—an energy that reminded me how creativity and joy can transcend age.
As a senior citizen, I decided to participate in the “Dance Performance by Seniors” segment. Dancing has always been a part of me—not just movement, but a language of expression, a way to let my heart speak.
I carefully choreographed a routine on two energetic Hindi Bollywood songs, rehearsing each step, each turn, until it felt like the music flowed through me rather than beneath my feet.
dance come alive
Stepping onto the stage that day, I felt a blend of excitement and nervous anticipation. The lights were bright, the audience eager, and the music began.
As I danced, all hesitation melted away. The rhythm pulsed through me; the beats became my heartbeat, the melody my guide.
Faces in the audience blurred into a sea of smiles and claps, and for those few minutes, nothing existed except the music, the movement, and the joy that comes from creating something with your whole being.
I laughed, I twirled, I let the joy spill out of me in every gesture.
And then came the moment I had not anticipated, but had secretly hoped for: the announcement that I had won a trophy for my performance.
Holding that gleaming emblem in my hand, a wave of warmth and pride rushed through me.
Trophies are memories
It was not just a trophy—it was recognition, validation, and encouragement all rolled into one. It was a tangible reminder that effort, passion, and courage do not fade with age.
A trophy has a power that goes far beyond its shiny surface. From childhood to professional life, we strive, we create, and we grow.
And while the act of participating is rewarding in itself, recognition adds fuel to our journey.
A trophy is a symbol of effort appreciated, of talent acknowledged, and of courage celebrated. Yesterday, holding that trophy,
I felt every moment of practice, every heartbeat of anticipation, every twirl of my dance come alive in that one shining piece of recognition.
Trophy, more than personal pride,
But more than personal pride, the trophy reminded me of community, connection, and shared joy.
Watching children beam as they received their awards, seeing parents cheer for their loved ones, and noticing the camaraderie among participants of all ages, I realized how recognition can uplift not just an individual but an entire community.
It fosters encouragement, builds confidence, and spreads happiness. It reminds us that each person’s effort matters and that every step toward creativity deserves celebration.
As I placed the trophy on my shelf later that evening, I realized it would always hold more than memories of a performance—it would represent courage, enthusiasm, and the timeless spirit of life itself.
It symbolizes that no matter your age, passion has a place, joy has a place, and recognition is a universal language that motivates us to keep creating, keep trying, and keep celebrating life.
Life is best lived when…
In holding a trophy in my hand, I held not just an award, but a story—a story of effort, joy, courage, and connection.
More than a symbol of achievement, it is a reminder that life is best lived when we express ourselves, celebrate with others, and embrace every opportunity to shine.
Yesterday, on the stage amidst music, claps, and laughter, I was reminded that creativity has no age, enthusiasm has no limit, and joy is timeless.
So, as I look at the gleaming trophy today, I smile—not just for the award, but for the journey it represents, for the happiness it captured, and for the inspiration it continues to bring.
Trophies, like memories, hold a special place in our hearts.
They fuel our spirit, remind us of our courage, and illuminate the path of life, urging us to dance, sing, create, and celebrate—always.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I’d like to be one of those sourdough starter kind of people. No store bought bread allowed in the house. I know it just takes a bit of practice and I could do it. I’d need to find the time.
I’m also envious of people who can naturally take really good photos. Some people are just born with the knack. I could research it or take a photography course. Then again if it’s too technical, I’d be bored and no longer interested.
I’d like to learn the skill of being one of those genuinely nice people. Like the NICE nice ones. I know a handful. They don’t have a mean bone in their body, are sweet and oh so optimistic. About everything and everyone. I love those people.
Our Premier is cooler than yours, Mr. Wab Kinew – yep that’s him dancing yesterday in Winnipeg at the Orange Shirt Day festivitiesPhotos taken from his Instagram account @wabber
In this dance of life, I often find myself in spaces
between moving and unmoving, between beginning and not yet begun. Between slow breaths and breathless, resignation and new beginnings. Un-learning and re-learning, endless time and chasing time, silence and unspoken words, longing and arrival.
This heartfelt poem captures the journey of rekindled love after a period of distance and pain. It reflects on past struggles yet embraces a hopeful turning point, guided by trust, grace, and the courage to begin anew.
When Roads Meet Again
We stand again where two roads meet, where silence once wrapped our dreams. The past was heavy, the nights unsure, yet a spark in our eyes whispered more.
The wind once carried the taste of rain, when closeness healed our hidden pain. Your every glance was a quiet song, a place where both our hearts belonged.
We lost ourselves in shadows deep, kept secrets only we could keep. But time has turned another page, that kept us apart, locked in a cage.
No more the burden of the past, let tears dissolve, let fears not last. This turn is new, a gentle start, to trust again with open heart.
So take my hand, let distance fade, the world awaits, yet we’re not afraid. His whispers guide, His grace will stay, and love will lead us through the way.
After much pondering, I had a lightbulb moment. This idea hit me: How to train a dragon? Not those monstrous, flying giants movies show, but mine – comparatively tiny, though quite adept at creating havoc.
It’s a dragon I carry inside: wild, fiery and with more than a pinch of crazy. More often than not, it loses its way and requires guidance, understanding and a careful dance between chaos and control.
Sometimes, after much struggling, wisdom and reality make an appearance. Otherwise, it’s happy to exist in its bubble of delirious, magical illusions .
Some dragons are not meant to be tamed but befriended, their fire shaping who we are rather than burning what we hold dear.
And in that light, I realized: there are plenty of skills I’d like to learn, but they can wait. After all, I’ve been waiting for many years, what’s a couple more?
However, there are some skills that require urgency: To listen, not just hear words, but the spaces between them. To love with abandonment, even when it hurts. To practice self-care without being selfish. To live generously, even when it is hard. To hold a conversation that heals, without needing to fix. To see the world through the quiet patience of a child’s eyes.
Perhaps learning a skill is not only about doing, but becoming, shaping the self as gently as the skill shapes you.
New Daily Prompt: Have you ever been kind and helpful to someone, only to have them take you for granted and expect ongoing, neverending support? What did you ultimately do?
God, yes!
I eventually stopped giving the damn crows any more peanuts.
Cawing angrily and expectantly every morning and evening!
Demanding not just more peanuts, but that I hurry up and put them on the fence and then clear off so they can feel ‘safe’ while eating them!
I hope this blog finds you enveloped in good spirits. Today’s writing prompt isn’t just a flight of fancy—it’s a journey into the heart of what truly matters to us: What would you attempt if you were guaranteed not to fail?
At first glance, this seems like a playful hypothetical. But dig a little deeper, and it becomes a powerful invitation to dream without restraint.
This question exposes not only our hidden ambitions but also the silent anxieties that so often shape our choices.
Just for a moment, let’s leave fear aside and explore what might happen if the threat of failure disappeared.
Why We Hold Back
Before asking what dreams we’d dare to pursue, we must examine why so many ambitions go unrealized.
For most of us, the answer is anxiety—fear of making mistakes, of being judged, of losing time, resources, or pride.
These fears are not unfounded: life’s uncertainties have taught us caution, and experience conditions us to weigh risks carefully.
But consider this: if the outcome were certain, would we still let hesitation dictate our actions?
The obstacles that seem so immovable—the “what-ifs” and “am-I-good-enoughs”—lose their grip when stripped of failure’s shadow. We’re left with a blank canvas, free to paint our boldest desires.
The Gift of Audacity
Now, ask yourself honestly: if you could not fail, what would you truly want to do? Would you champion a cause on a global scale?
For me, one dream stands out—a global platform for artists and writers of all backgrounds, a sanctuary where creativity thrives, collaboration blossoms, and every voice finds its audience.
This vision has lingered in my mind, but nagging doubts—about its feasibility, resources, or reception—have always whispered caution.
But if failure were impossible? I would leap headlong into building it, trusting that passionate pursuit can change lives and inspire others to do the same.
Removing “Safe” from Success
Write, sing, or paint in ways you’ve only imagined? Reimagine your community? Venture into the unknown without looking back?
When we subtract the possibility of failure, our priorities crystallize. What remains is not the status quo, but the longings closest to our hearts.
The desire to start a new chapter in our careers, to travel the world, to nurture something meaningful—these are not always “practical” ambitions, but they are real.
Suddenly, limitations imposed by fear become irrelevant, and we understand that safety is rarely synonymous with satisfaction.
Oh, how many dreams have languished because they were deemed too ambitious, too risky, or too “out there”?
By granting ourselves the license to imagine success, we let our souls reveal what brings genuine purpose. The journey of exploring this question itself begins to dissolve the boundaries we’ve set for our own lives.
Unmasking Our Deepest Desires
Often, our aspirations get buried beneath layers of routine and responsibility. We pursue paths that are sensible, secure, and socially accepted, but in doing so, our truest callings can remain silent.
This prompt forces us to listen to that quiet inner voice.
What would you discover if you knew you couldn’t fail? For some, it’s inventing new technologies or healing the planet.
For others, writing poetry, starting a school, or devoting themselves to a cause. The answers are as diverse as humanity itself, and none are trivial—they are clues to our most authentic selves.
Redefining Failure, Embracing Regret
Here’s the deeper paradox: Though failure seems a fearsome beast, it is far from fatal. In fact, failure often carries the seeds of success, offering lessons in resilience, humility, and clarity.
The regret of never trying lingers much longer than wounds from a single setback.
By daring to imagine a world where failure is off the table, we train ourselves to live with greater intention and less regret. We begin to realize the journey—complete with its falls and detours—is what shapes character and meaning.
Even if success isn’t guaranteed, striving toward our vision can bring fulfillment all its own.
The Courage to Dream, The Willingness to Act
So, what would you attempt if you were guaranteed not to fail? This is more than an exercise in fantasy; it is a call to re-evaluate what’s truly holding us back.
The real limits we face are seldom external—they are the shadows cast by our own doubts and fears.
May this prompt inspire you to dust off old dreams, to give fresh hope to ambitions laid aside, and to take steps—no matter how small—toward what sets your soul ablaze.
Because even if life can’t promise certainty, it always rewards the brave who dare to act in spite of it.
Let’s dream boldly, act bravely, and live as if failure is not a barrier, but a stepping stone. The world awaits what only you can imagine and create.
So today, I invite you to pause and reflect: if failure were not an option, what would you attempt?
Let your imagination roam freely, and let that vision guide your choices, for the first step toward greatness is not the absence of fear, but the courage to imagine without limits.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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It’s not more, it’s less attention I need to pay. I was thinking about this exact idea a couple of weeks ago. People who are unbothered. Who don’t get all caught up in their heads.
How do they do it?
What I decided was to perhaps start paying less attention to things. I don’t need to know why someone said what they said, did what they did. Stop examining every little thing.
Who cares, let it go.
*I say all of this on a day when I’m actually paying very close attention to the fact that it’s the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. I’m reading some of the horror stories. Children kidnapped from their homes, stripped of their culture and forced to live in institutions disguised as schools. The “lucky” ones survived the abuse but many never made it home.
A fellow WP blogger AND Canadian, dedicated his post today to this. Please give it a read. The amazingly talented Sven Anger.
Today marks a very special milestone in my life — the sixth Blogiversary of RetiredKalam.com. As I sit down to reflect, my heart overflows with gratitude for this extraordinary path paved with passion, perseverance, and purpose.
RetiredKalam.com is not just a website; it is a castle built on four strong pillars:
My Thoughts
Your Comments and Advice
Meaningful Content for Society
My Enthusiasm
Together, these pillars have created a sanctuary where I’ve discovered new dimensions of myself, found joy in creativity, and connected with kindred spirits across the world.
How It All Began
Back in 2020, soon after retiring from a long career in banking, I felt an emptiness — a search for something to fill my newfound free time with meaning.
Books had always been my refuge. During my college days, I wrote stories and poems, but corporate life slowly pushed my creative side into hibernation. Reading rekindled that spark, soothing a restless mind.
One afternoon, while chatting with my younger son, I confessed, “I’m bored — maybe I’ll start a blog.” He grinned and replied, “Yes, why not!”
That simple moment lit a fire in me. I opened WordPress, typed in RetiredKalam.com (a name suggested by my son, reflecting my love for learning and creativity), and clicked Create.
Little did I know, I had opened the door to an entirely new chapter of my life.
Unleashing My Inner Muse
They say retirement is the end of the road — but for me, it was the beginning of a vibrant highway leading to creativity.
Who could have imagined that, after decades in the structured world of banking, I would find joy in writing, painting, and storytelling? On this platform, I am not Mr. Verma, the banker; I am a dreamer, poet, artist, and observer of life’s gentle nuances.
Every blog post, poem, or painting I share is a reflection of my soul — a celebration of thoughts that once hid behind spreadsheets. Each published piece is a small triumph; every comment, a warm embrace.
The First Post & That Digital Thrill
Creating the blog was easy; deciding what to write was harder.
As a senior citizen, I wanted to share something meaningful, so I wrote about staying active and content in later years. That first post, “How to Stay Active and Content,” was a heartfelt guide born from personal experience.
When likes and comments started trickling in, I felt my first digital thrill — the joy of being acknowledged not for my past career or status, but for my words. That moment gave me courage to keep writing.
Lesser-Known Facts About Blogging
Over six years, I’ve uncovered truths that many new bloggers don’t realize:
Blogging predates social media. The first recognizable blog appeared in 1994, long before Facebook or Instagram.
Consistency beats perfection. Regular posts, even simple ones, build a loyal audience.
Engagement is the heartbeat. Replying to comments and reading fellow bloggers’ work fosters a supportive circle.
Words live long online. A thoughtful post can resurface years later, inspiring someone you’ve never met.
Blogging is more than just pressing “publish.” It’s about crafting something that endures.
The Rewards & Challenges
Blogging demands patience, creativity, and discipline. There are moments of writer’s block, self-doubt, and the pull of everyday life.
But the rewards have been immense. I’ve written 5,000+ posts, connected with 3,000+ followers, and welcomed nearly two lakh visitors, generating over six lakh views.
WordPress even celebrated my 1,600-day posting streak — proof of my commitment. Yet, beyond numbers, I treasure the friendships: poets, storytellers, and readers who’ve turned this space into a warm, welcoming home.
Blogging as a Teacher
This blog has been one of my greatest teachers. It has shown me how to slow down, find joy in simple things, and approach life with curiosity rather than hurry.
Through WordPress, I’ve gathered courage to submit poems to anthologies, experiment with painting, and share my thoughts on well-being and aging gracefully. Each creative risk has helped me grow as a writer, artist, and human being.
Building Bridges & Capturing Life
One of the unexpected blessings of RetiredKalam.com is the community of kindness that has blossomed here.
Readers from across the globe leave thoughtful words, share their own stories, and remind me that writing can heal, inspire, and unite.
Every post becomes a time capsule, preserving a fragment of thought or feeling — a legacy for future generations, etched in the pixels of the internet.
Sharing the Sunshine
In a world often weighed down by negativity, I’ve always believed in shining a little light. Through articles on mental well-being, creativity, and everyday joys, I aim to offer hope and positivity.
If even one reader finds comfort or courage in my words, my purpose is fulfilled.
Looking Ahead: Dreams Still in Bloom
Six years may have passed, but my creative journey is far from over. I dream of:
Publishing more books of poetry and reflections
Creating art that speaks to the heart
Exploring podcasts and short video storytelling
Continuing to make RetiredKalam.com a sanctuary of light and learning
Because the joy of learning never retires.
Gratitude & The Road Ahead
As I celebrate this sixth anniversary, I’m excited to set new goals, share more stories, and keep growing with this beautiful community.
To everyone who has read, liked, or commented on my posts: thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support keeps me inspired and motivated.
And to anyone considering starting a blog: take that leap. You don’t need a perfect plan — sometimes the best adventures begin with a spontaneous click.
Here’s to more words, deeper connections, and quiet joys discovered through writing.
What details of your life could you pay more attention to?
Intentionality. I’d like to be more intentional. With relationships, listening, work, and anything that surrounds my life.
When it comes to relationships, I’d like to pour more because I lack so much in this area. I’d like to extend more grace, mend fences, bridge those gaps, love more, because there is no such thing as too much love. Be more intentional with my existing friendships, check in, reach out, prioritize those connections. When I spend time with people, to have intentional and meaningful conversations, not just ‘polite’ talking. I believe it is when we have conversations that scratch beneath the surface that we get to know and meet people as themselves, in all their mess and beauty, and be able to say “I’m here, I understand” without any reservations or judgment.
I’d like to listen more. Do I actually hear what is not said? Of course, we can’t be expected to be mind readers. Many situations require the vocalization of our thoughts, but how do we comprehend what is subtly said, when we don’t listen with intention?
This morning my daughter was complaining about how her friends don’t listen when she’s talking. They cut her off or talk over her. She feels unheard and, as she said, “she does not get a chance to speak.” I felt what she said. Who likes to be unheard? What I told her though, because I can’t ask her to scream over them or throw a fit, is that she gets a chance to listen more. It is more fun and better to listen and observe rather than talk, when no one listens. I may have also added that we get to hear foolishness come out of loud mouths . That is how the world works – everyone wants to talk. I added that as she grows, she will meet people who’ll listen to her, and those are the ones to look out for. Because when they search and ask for your voice, then they’ll value what you say. This is training ground for her.
Personally, I have felt unheard more often. Being unheard also meant being misunderstood. I learned not to waste my thoughts on those who don’t wish to listen and understand. I could say it’s brought me more peace . It sucks not to be heard, but short of pouncing on people to make myself heard, I say let them learn the hard way. Sometimes that way can be damaging, but I also learned boundaries in the process.
However, when you are heard, you feel validated, and even vindicated. You feel respected and trusted, and this rewires your mind. I believe one learns to trust in their own judgment, too.
That is what I want: to be intentional with my words. Words do have power. We either speak life or death, into ourselves and others too.
And yes, intentionality is also about being aware in the small, ordinary moments. Like this morning, when I ended up with lukewarm coffee because I must’ve forgotten to switch the gas on. That’s what happens when the brain is still cloudy with sleep, eyes drowsy, but the tummy can’t wait for the sip that breathes life . If intentionality can save me from lukewarm coffee, imagine what it could do for the rest of my life .
I hope this blog finds you wrapped in curiosity and a spark of excitement.
Yes, Curiosity, like a gentle breeze, has a way of opening doors to the heart and mind. Today, this blog invites us to linger with a question that is both simple and vast: “Who are your favorite artists?”
At first glance, it seems like a conversation starter. But stay awhile, and you’ll find it’s a portal—one that leads us deep into imagination, emotion, and the realm of creativity itself.
When naming a favorite artist, we don’t merely confess admiration. We reveal our longings, highlight what awakens wonder within, and discover hidden corners of ourselves.
A painter’s brushstroke might whisper emotions we thought untranslatable. A musician’s melody may echo the secret rhythms of our own hearts.
In naming our favorites, we engage in an intimate dialogue—one that transcends time, geography, and language.
My favourite Painer
Consider Vincent van Gogh: his vibrant canvases, swirling skies, and sunflowers overflow with commitment and vulnerability.
What sets him apart is not just his revolutionary technique, but his unwavering dedication.
Even amid chaos, Van Gogh’s story tells us that beauty and struggle can live side by side, and that passion survives the storm.
For me, he is an example of how one’s inner world can paint the outer world brighter.
My favourite Musician
Then, there are artists whose medium is sound. A.R. Rahman, for instance, crafts intricate soundscapes that dissolve boundaries between East and West, tradition and innovation.
Listening to his music feels like stepping into a living tapestry of feelings—where each thread is a unique note carrying listeners across continents and cultures.
His compositions aren’t just songs; they are emotions set free, reminders that music is the language of the soul.
Celebrating Creativity in All Forms
Artistry isn’t only found in galleries or concert halls. The poetry of Rumi, whose verses are like soul-whispers, provides comfort and insight to those seeking meaning.
Legendary actors—such as Amitabh Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan, whose performances move millions—create cinematic worlds where audiences can lose themselves and, sometimes, find themselves anew.
The wonder of this prompt is its boundless subjectivity. Some may cherish globally renowned figures; others, the unsung artists who quietly transform our lives—an inspiring teacher, a local craftsman, a friend who sketches in secret.
Each choice tells a personal story. It’s less about popularity, and more about how art kindles hope, stretches imagination, or offers solace in a storm.
Reflecting on favorite artists also helps us understand creativity itself. We are not drawn only to talent, but to courage—the courage to see differently, to challenge the status quo, and to breathe life into new visions.
Art builds bridges, uniting the artist’s imagination with ours and offering glimpses of perspectives we’d otherwise never see.
Why the Artist Within Matters
But creativity is not confined to celebrated names. It flourishes in everyday acts—in the sketches drawn at midnight, the tunes hummed in the shower, or the daily writings that become silent milestones in life.
As someone who loves to draw, I find art is both sanctuary and mirror: it relieves stress, preserves memories, and brings order to life’s chaos.
My goal this year—to complete 500 sketches, of which 300 are already done—reminds me that each drawing is an act of joy, discipline, and persistence.
In my journey of writing blogs—855 so far, each post turns reflection into connection, and every word becomes a step toward self-discovery.
When I look at my growing gallery of drawings, I proudly admit:
Today, I am my own favorite artist. Not out of vanity, but as a recognition that within each of us lives a creator—one whose story, struggle, and spark deserve to be celebrated.
Drawing is a conversation between my inner world and the page; each sketch is proof that creativity thrives not only in renown, but in daily devotion and honest expression.
So, pause for a moment and ask yourself: Who are your favorite artists?
Let the question guide you through cherished memories, dreams deferred or realized, and the inspirations that ever tug at your soul.
Whether it’s a master, a mentor, a friend—or even the artist within—honoring that creativity is a way to celebrate life itself. Art, after all, is not only what we admire—it is the radiant thread that connects us all.
Reflect, celebrate, and, above all, create. That’s the true answer to the question—and the journey it offers.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Tomorrow is actually a stat holiday, to honour the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, or “Orange Shirt Day” as it’s known.
I don’t really have time this morning to get into the story behind Orange Shirt Day but I do feel it’s important to not just use the day as a day off, but to reflect on and gain knowledge about Truth and Reconciliation and what that really means.
One of the big projects for the course I’m taking involves learning about and trying to figure out how to Indigenize curricula, so I’m happy to say I’ve been learning more about decolonization. And lots more to learn.
Sid on Orange Shirt Day – 2022, 2023, 2024, will take this year’s photo either today or tomorrow
These are the last two shots from the roll of TMAX 400 I recently shot that I’m sharing here.
I had taken one of the Kiddos to an activity, and while the Kiddo activitied away, I decided to finish the roll off with a few pictures.
Two of which were attempts at macro photography.
All I could hear was a haunting plea: Help me! Heeeellllppppp me! f5.6, 1/500sec.
The fly was pure luck. I didn’t see it until I was framing the photo.
It’s cool and all, but I didn’t have any of the extension tubes with me, so was limited to the magnification of the 100mm lens.
The fly is almost lost in the shot, blending in with the background, which is unfortunate. I think the photo would have been more interesting if I had changed the angle so the fly was silhouetted by the bright part of the flower … bulb? pod? I’m not a botanist.
I’d say maybe next time, but I’ve since shot another roll and there was a fly on a flower involved with that, and, um, well, it hasn’t been developed yet, but I rushed so fast to get the fly in the shot I didn’t think about framing.
So I guess I’m a slow learner.
The second shot taught me a different lesson, one I think I have taken to heart.
Different flower, no fly, and no focus. f8, 1/250sec.
As I was walking away from taking this photo, I realized I had focused while wearing my glasses.
I have a diopter correction for the viewfinder so I don’t need to wear my glasses to focus.
As the fragrance of incense mingles with the sound of conch shells and the rhythmic beats of the dhak rise in every lane, you know the season has arrived.
Kolkata’s skies may still hold a trace of monsoon clouds, but the city’s spirit shines brighter than a thousand lamps. It is the eve of Durga Puja, and the heartbeat of Bengal is quickening with excitement, devotion, and joy.
Durga Puja is not merely a religious observance; it is a celebration that transcends rituals, weaving together mythology, artistry, and community in a tapestry of unparalleled vibrance.
The Eternal Legend of Maa Durga
At the heart of this festival lies a timeless tale — the story of Maa Durga, the invincible goddess, who was created by the combined energies of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva to defeat the dreaded demon Mahishasura.
His reign of terror had cast darkness upon the heavens and earth alike, leaving even the gods helpless.
But in that moment of despair arose the radiant goddess, astride her mighty lion, with ten arms carrying weapons and blessings.
Her battle was not just a celestial war — it became a symbol of courage, justice, and the eternal triumph of good over evil.
Even today, as we stand before her idol, we feel her power ripple through us.
Her lion represents courage, her weapons symbolize resilience, and her calm, compassionate eyes remind us to balance strength with kindness.
The City Turns Into a Canvas
If mythology gives Durga Puja its soul, art and culture give it its body. On the eve of the festival, Kolkata transforms into a living, breathing art gallery under the open sky.
Months before the celebrations, artists labor in Kumartuli, sculpting clay into divine form.
Every curve of the idol’s face, every delicate ornament, is crafted with devotion. The pandals — those magnificent temporary structures — rise like architectural wonders.
Some recreate ancient temples, others mirror world landmarks, and many offer thought-provoking social messages through their designs.
Walking into each pandal feels like stepping into a new universe. One moment, you are inside a glowing palace of mirrors; the next, you are transported to a rural Bengal courtyard decorated with straw, bamboo, and earthen lamps.
A Festival of Togetherness
Durga Puja is as much about people as it is about the goddess. The streets throb with life. Families step out in their best attire — crisp cottons and bright silks during the day, flowing kurtas and glittering sarees at night.
Children beam with excitement over their new clothes, couples weave through the crowds hand in hand, and elders find joy in reuniting with old friends.
There is no hierarchy, no division. The festival dissolves barriers. Strangers share laughter in the long queues to pandals, volunteers hand out bhog (the blessed meal of khichuri, labra, and sweets) with smiling faces, and music, dance, and laughter spill into the night air.
This sense of community and belonging is what makes Durga Puja truly special. It is not confined to rituals or traditions — it is about celebrating life, together.
Food, Music, and the Pulse of Joy
What’s a festival without food? For Bengalis, Durga Puja is also a culinary carnival. The aroma of freshly fried luchis paired with aloor dum, plates of rosogolla and sandesh, and the special home-made malpuas fill homes and hearts alike.
Street food becomes a ritual in itself. From phuchkas that burst with spice to sizzling kathi rolls and the evergreen mughlai paratha, every bite feels like part of the celebration.
And then there’s the music — from soulful Rabindra Sangeet drifting through cultural programs to the booming beats of the dhak, which send goosebumps down your spine.
The Dhunuchi Naach — the traditional dance with incense-filled urns — becomes a mesmerizing spectacle, where devotion and performance merge seamlessly.
Lessons from the Goddess
Beyond the lights, music, and festivities, the festival carries a profound message. Maa Durga is not just a goddess of myth; she is a symbol of inner strength.
She reminds us that within every person lies the courage to face life’s darkest demons — be they fear, injustice, or despair.
Her ten arms holding weapons and flowers alike remind us that true power is not about aggression but about balance — the balance of power and peace, strength and compassion, discipline and grace.
Standing before her idol, many feel an unspoken dialogue — a quiet reassurance that no matter how great the challenges, the divine force within will guide us forward.
Why It Remains My Favorite Holiday
From childhood to this golden phase of life, Durga Puja has always held a sacred place in my heart. I still recall the thrill of new clothes, the sweet taste of my mother’s home-cooked delicacies, and the sparkle in her eyes during those days.
Durga Puja is not just about devotion — it is about artistry, nostalgia, creativity, and the shared joy of togetherness.
It is a festival that revives my spirit, reconnects me to my roots, and fills me with a sense of gratitude.
A Celebration That Lives On
As we stand on the threshold of Durga Puja this year, let us embrace its spirit fully. Let us celebrate not just with lights and rituals, but with kindness, unity, and courage.
Because Durga Puja is more than a festival. It is an emotion, a reminder that no matter how daunting life becomes, the lion within us — our inner strength — will roar us to victory.
Let us draw inspiration from her triumph and face life’s battles with the same unwavering courage and determination, knowing that the lion within us will always guide us to victory.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Number one? When I wake up – breathe, then live. How can I live if I don’t breathe? Everything else follows after that first breath. Enough of my snarky.
After that, it’s the routine: school duty. Once that’s done, I keep myself flexible. I’m not much for planning, you never really know how an hour or a day will turn out. Best to go with the flow. If I try to map every detail and one thing goes haywire, the whole plan topples like dominoes.
So my priorities look different:
To show up fully in the little things.
To spend my energy where it matters, not where it drains.
To lean on anchors, not rigid schedules, a prayer, a school drop-off, a coffee, a pause.
To adapt when life throws the curveballs (and it always does).
To value people over tasks, my daughter’s laugh matters more than a checklist.
To savor small joys, birds singing, the sun on my face, a quiet moment.
And to remember that enough is enough.
That’s how I move through my days. Not chasing after perfect planning, but letting breath, presence and connection guide me. Somehow, the rest falls into place.
And just as randomly, the Blaze of Glory soundtrack plays in my head. I’m not sure how it ties into the prompt, but maybe my unconscious is sending me a signal . I’m not ready to go down just yet, but it does feel like something’s going down – my mind, perhaps .
What Would You Do If You Lost All Your Possessions? A Journey Beyond Belongings
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is indeed fascinating: “What would you do if you lost all your possessions?”
At first glance, it seems like a purely hypothetical question, but if we look deeper, it becomes a doorway to profound reflection—
on what truly defines us, what we hold most dear, and how we might rebuild if everything familiar were suddenly taken away.
The very thought of losing all our possessions can feel terrifying. Our belongings—whether it’s our home, clothes, books, photos, or even our digital devices—form the fabric of our daily lives.
They provide comfort, security, and, often, a sense of identity. Each item tells a story, preserves a memory, or marks a milestone.
Yet, when I sit with this question more thoughtfully, I realize it holds a paradox: losing everything may unexpectedly offer a chance to rediscover what can never be lost.
Lessons from Thomas Edison
History shows us that even the greatest minds have faced devastating losses.
Thomas Edison, widely credited with inventing the first commercially successful incandescent light bulb in 1879, also experienced moments of significant setbacks.
In December 1914, when his West Orange, New Jersey, laboratory complex was destroyed by fire, many would have expected despair.
Edison was 67 years old at the time, and yet, remarkably, his reaction was calm and optimistic. He found value in the disaster rather than being defeated by it.
He reportedly said, “Thank goodness all our mistakes were burned up. Now we can start fresh.”
Edison’s response teaches us a vital lesson: resilience is not about avoiding loss; it is about how we respond to it.
Losing possessions, no matter how overwhelming it feels in the moment, can become a catalyst for growth, creativity, and a fresh perspective.
Facing Loss in Everyday Life
If I lost all my possessions, the first moments would likely be filled with shock and grief. It’s natural to grieve the tangible and intangible connections we hold to our things.
But once the initial pain passes, the real journey begins: rebuilding life from the ground up.
From my own experiences, I’ve realized that challenges often reveal our true strengths.
There have been times when unexpected setbacks stripped me of comfort or convenience. In those moments, I discovered patience, problem-solving, and gratitude I didn’t know I possessed.
Losing everything might feel like a disaster at first, but it can also be an opportunity to reconnect with the essentials—our health, our relationships, and our inner strength.
Rediscovering What Truly Matters
Possessions often weigh us down in ways we don’t realize. We acquire items to feel secure, to belong, or to hold onto the past. But when they vanish, we’re forced to confront the essence of life.
What would remain if everything external disappeared? Our relationships, our values, and our ability to love and create.
A simple meal shared with a friend, a warm conversation with a loved one, or even the smile of a stranger becomes far more valuable than any material possession.
Moreover, rebuilding life without excess can cultivate gratitude. Every small gain—a book, a piece of clothing, a safe place to sleep—becomes precious.
We begin to notice the beauty in simplicity, the freedom in letting go, and the power of resilience.
Embracing the Journey
Losing everything is, without doubt, a frightening thought. Yet, it also presents an extraordinary chance for reflection, transformation, and growth.
It reminds us that life’s true wealth is not measured in what fills our cupboards or bank accounts, but in what fills our hearts: love, creativity, resilience, and gratitude.
Like Edison, we can choose to see loss as a starting point rather than an endpoint. Life, stripped of its distractions, can become richer in ways that possessions alone could never offer.
It encourages us to live more consciously, cherish relationships, and rebuild life with intention and hope.
In the end, the question “What would you do if you lost all your possessions?” is more than a thought experiment—it is an invitation.
An invitation to discover that even if we lose everything we own, we can still gain everything that truly matters.
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BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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My Dad is of the boomer generation and not only that, a farmer. So I was raised to believe that hard work was the end-all, be-all of life. Work hard. Don’t rest, unless you’re nearly dead. Work work work. Days off are for wimps, sick days are for even bigger wimps. Push through. Don’t sit around. Don’t do something unless you’re going to do it right.
I took all this with me as I entered the workforce. Even with three young kids, working fulltime doing shift work. I didn’t call in sick, like ever, to a fault.
Of course if one of the kids were sick I’d stay home and take care of them but not myself, not if I could help it.
When Bella-Lena and Taz were very small their daycare person was on vacation for a week so I had to find alternate arrangements, which was a difficult task.
Now, looking back, I think why didn’t I just talk to my boss and explain the predicament I was in, no childcare. Or why didn’t I just call in sick, at least for a couple of days.
But no, that wasn’t something I would do, I worked hard and didn’t miss work. So I sent them to a different daycare that week, a lady I didn’t even know. I was just happy to have found someone to watch them.
She baby-sat them all week and at the end of the week they were more than happy to never have to go back to her house. They said she sat in a recliner chair while they played downstairs and she did a lot of yelling at all the kids there. I so regret that.
When my marriage was ending and I was going through one of the worst and most stressful times of my life, I still went to work everyday. I shouldn’t have. But I did. Because, well, working hard no matter what, is just what you do. I recall being sick a lot during that time, colds and flus. Due to all the stress my immune system was worn right down. Yet I didn’t rest. And in fact I had to pick up a lot of overtime to pay the bills as I was now a one income household, me, and I was going to provide the kids with anything and everything they needed or wanted.
Now that I’m older and wiser I no longer live by these rules. I worry about me and my family more than my employer. As an employee I am and was, replaceable. I was too stupid to realize it when I was young. Kids always come first, before jobs and especially before the work hard and only wimpy people miss work attitudes.
I really don’t care if people view me as a hard worker or committed to my work. There are more important things in life.
This is a tender poem about reconnecting with our soul after years of neglect. It highlights the journey of self-reflection and healing, showing that the most important reconciliation is with ourselves.
The poem illustrates the bravery needed to confront our mistakes, accept our wounds, and choose love and self-acceptance.
“Meeting My Own Heart”
Tonight, my heart longs to meet me, To wash the shadows from my eyes. To reckon gently with my past, And ask my soul to forgive its cries.
The mirror revealed what I concealed, Stories I buried, dreams I denied. How often I silenced my own voice, To please the world, I let myself slide.
With every step, I made concessions, Traded truth for fleeting disguise. But tonight, I turn to my tender heart, To heal the wounds I left inside.
I will learn to hold my own hand, To breathe with the rhythm my spirit sings. No more betrayal, no neglect, Only wholeness that self-love brings.
This journey is rugged, yet sweet as dawn, Each scar a poem, each tear reborn. Soul meeting soul, a sacred embrace, I walk renewed with gentle grace.
Tonight, my heart returns to me, The weight of sorrow washed and gone. I welcome life with open arms, And crown my days with joy well-won.
In what ways does hard work make you feel fulfilled?
I feel these prompts more often make me begin with doubts. Today too, my first thought is, I’m not sure.
It seems the typhoon from China has made its way down here. As much as I appreciate the cool weather, I don’t know how much more rain I can take. Then again, the weather is not under anyone’s control. This is so human, isn’t it? Even when we claim to be content, there’s always something to complain about.
Back to the prompt. To be honest, I’m not sure hard work brings fulfillment for me. What is hard work anyway? Is it staying up late to finish pending chores? Working overtime, weekends and holidays? Putting in more than expected when there’s little recognition or no compensation at all? These days, people are slogging more than ever, yet what they receive doesn’t reflect their effort. Where is the fulfillment in that?
When I was employed, I’d give all I could to a project, yet often felt it wasn’t enough. The same goes for the work I do at home – I reach into the nooks and crannies, the corners no one else sees. For a moment I feel satisfied, but soon I notice something else waiting to be done. The cycle never ends.
Maybe that’s the thing: we’re always striving. Always busy. We don’t really know how to slow down or rest. The floor is swept, but dust returns. The inbox is cleared, but it fills again. Fulfillment seems fleeting, momentary.
Sometimes, reaching into the hidden corners of a room feels like reaching into hidden corners of the self, an ongoing purging, a quiet striving toward clarity. Just as physical work never ends, the inner work doesn’t either. Hard work, in that sense, becomes less about external results and more about inner renewal.
And perhaps that’s where the fulfillment is. Not in finishing, but in continuing.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective mood. Today’s writing prompt truly excites me: “What is your favorite hobby or pastime?”
At first, this may sound like a simple question. But if you think about it, our hobbies are not just casual activities — they are mirrors of our inner world. They give us joy, peace, and meaning beyond our day-to-day obligations.
Over the years, especially after my retirement, I’ve explored and enjoyed many hobbies — blogging, writing poems and stories, dancing, making videos, swimming, and even playing the mouth organ.
Each one has brought me its own kind of happiness. But if you ask me to choose my favorite, the answer is clear: painting.
When colors bloom upon the sheet, My heart and canvas gently meet, A silent song, a wordless prayer, Each stroke reveals a story there.
The Power of Painting
Painting, for me, is more than just a pastime. It is a language of expression that often speaks louder than words.
The moment I pick up a brush, I step into a world of color and imagination. Every stroke is like a conversation with my emotions — sometimes calm, sometimes joyful, sometimes nostalgic, and occasionally touched with melancholy.
There is something deeply therapeutic in watching colors blend, merge, and slowly form an image on canvas.
Unlike writing, which requires carefully chosen words, painting flows spontaneously. It feels as though creativity itself is guiding my hand.
Through painting, I’ve also learned to notice life more closely — the play of sunlight on leaves, the textures of old walls, the way shadows dance at dusk.
These little details, often ignored in the rush of life, become treasures once captured on canvas.
No audience to please, no race to win, Just joy that rises from deep within. A world of colors, calm and free, Creation itself is enough for me.
The Joy of Creating
Another reason I love painting is the sheer joy of creation.
Whether it’s a landscape that reminds me of a cherished place or an abstract piece that reflects my mood, each finished work carries a quiet sense of accomplishment.
What makes it so fulfilling is not perfection, but freedom — the freedom to create without judgment, without deadlines, and without pressure to impress anyone.
In a world obsessed with productivity and results, painting is my safe haven where the process itself is the reward.
Brush in hand, my worries fade, In strokes of light, new peace is made. The canvas listens, calm and true, And paints my spirit in brighter hue.
Creativity and Wellness
Engaging in painting has also taught me the connection between creativity and wellness.
Science tells us that creative activities reduce stress, improve focus, and enhance happiness. My own experience confirms this.
Whenever I feel restless, overwhelmed, or even a little low, spending an hour with my paints feels like therapy.
The act of mixing colors, shaping forms, and losing myself in the process brings me into a state of flow where worries fade away. It heals, it energizes, and it grounds me.
A Hobby That Keeps Growing
One of the best things about painting is that it never gets boring. There’s always something new to learn — experimenting with textures, exploring new subjects, or playing with bold colors.
Every canvas becomes an adventure, and this sense of discovery keeps the passion alive.
Encouraging Others
Friends often ask me about my hobbies, and I always encourage them to find one that resonates with their heart. It doesn’t have to be painting — it could be gardening, singing, dancing, or cooking.
The important thing is that it should bring joy, peace, and a sense of connection with yourself.
In our busy, fast-paced world, hobbies are more than just a way to pass time. They are like oases of calm, little pockets of joy that remind us to slow down, enjoy the present moment, and truly live.
So find your hobby, near or far, It shows you truly who you are. Not just what you daily do— But the soul’s pure song shining through.
My Final Submission
So, what’s my favorite hobby or pastime? Without a doubt, it’s painting — a joyful journey that allows me to express myself, relax, and discover beauty in the world around me.
And now, I’d like to ask you: What’s your favorite hobby? Whatever it may be, cherish it — because hobbies are not just what we do; they are part of who we are.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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My daughter has been asking me, “What is your greatest fear?” I’ve never given her a clear answer. She doesn’t deserve a flippant reply. She may be young, but the question carries weight.
Fears come in all shapes. There are the small ones we brush aside and forget. Then there are the deep, life-altering ones. Some anxieties appear out of nowhere and drag us down a rabbit hole, while others fade if we pause, breathe, and let calm return.
As my children grow, I often wonder what kind of world they will inherit.
We grew up in what felt like a simpler, more innocent generation. We played outdoors until dark, wandered freely without always needing supervision, knew our neighbors, and looked out for one another. There was a certain trust with the people around us. But today? It feels different. We live in a world marked by distrust, unkindness, intolerance, and sometimes overwhelming wickedness.
And that is one of my greatest fears: what kind of world my children will step into.
Relationships are now “situationships” (whatever that means). The family structure seems fragile. Values are diminishing. Intolerance and entitlement keep rising. The brutal killing of Charlie Kirk shook many out of their complacency. There are certain views Charlie stood for that I agree with, and others I don’t. But whatever his stance, no one deserved that kind of death, least of all in front of his family. To be killed because of a viewpoint, and then to see others rejoicing in that death? I can’t wrap my head around that kind of cruelty. Is our conscience dead?
It’s not only global headlines. Closer home, I’ve seen the same intolerance. A couple of years ago, two young men died after defending their female friend from men who harassed her. The offenders returned with reinforcements and weapons and brutally attacked them. Even nearer, my nephew’s friend was beaten up by local boys just because he looked different. My nephew got injured defending his friend.
And then there’s my daughter. Just last week, she told me how she stood up for her friend when others accused her unfairly. “I saw her not do it,” she said, “so I spoke up.” I was so proud. And true to her funny self, she added that she literally had to stand up to stand up for her friend .
But here’s where my fear takes root. When cruelty rears its ugly head – which seems more common nowadays, what do I teach my children? To hold back? To look the other way? To live by the “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” philosophy? Or to risk themselves by choosing to do what is right?
I just don’t understand intolerance. What happened to discourse and dialogue? Why can’t we listen to different perspectives without trying to silence each other? We aren’t all made from the same cloth. Even when we are, we vary in beliefs, outlook, and way of life. That uniqueness should enrich us, not divide us.
But now, conversations are cut off at the first sign of disagreement. Boundaries, though necessary, are often used without trying to understand the root cause of conflict. Instead of being bridges for understanding and healing, they become walls that destroy relationships.
So, back to my daughter’s question: what is my greatest fear?
I fear a future where misunderstandings spiral because no one knows how to have the hard conversations. Where listening is a lost art, understanding each other is a losing game, intolerance is a badge of honor, and “conscience” is just a word in the dictionary. I fear a world where kindness or courage might cost my children their freedom, their limb, or even their life.
That, I think, is my fear.
(And yet, maybe there is a sliver of hope. Because when my daughter stood up for her friend, I saw that light is still alive. Perhaps the future isn’t only what we fear, but also what they choose to make of it.)
“Forgive Myself” is a touching poem about reconnecting with our own soul after neglect. It focuses on self-forgiveness, healing, and accepting the parts of ourselves we forgot.
This gentle journey reminds us that the most important reconciliation is with ourselves.
Forgive Myself
After ages of silence, I stand before the mirror tonight, not to judge the face I see, but to meet the soul I once abandoned.
How many times did I trade my own laughter for borrowed smiles? How many dreams did I bury quietly to keep the world at peace?
The weight of those betrayals still lingers in my chest. And yet, my heart whispers— forgive me, forgive yourself, for I did not know how to love the one within.
Tonight, I reach for my own hands, clasp them as if they belonged to someone dear— because they do. They belong to me.
No longer will I turn away from the child in my reflection, the one who only ever asked for kindness.
Tonight I promise— I will carry you gently, I will honor your voice, and I will love you with the loyalty I once reserved for others.
Okay, I’m feeling extra lazy today so I’m answering this, though it’s recycled. I’ll have to ask the people around me what trait they value so it won’t sound like I’m lying or tooting my own horn …
I got better somethings to share instead of harping about myself. These should give a sneak peek into my personality.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is fascinating, as it invites us to reflect deeply on those moments when we’ve felt “out of place.”
The question reads: “Tell us about a time when you felt out of place.”
We all know what it feels like to belong. It’s the warmth of familiar faces, the comfort of shared language, and the unspoken understanding that we are accepted as we are.
But then there are moments on the other side—times when the ground feels shaky, when we wonder if we truly fit in, and when the mirror reflects not just who we are, but how different we seem from the world around us.
Let me share with you one such recent experience of mine.
The Unexpected Gathering
Just a week ago, while I was on my morning walk in the society park, I noticed a group of elderly residents practicing dance to the beat of traditional music in one corner.
Curious, I paused to watch. Soon, a gentleman approached me and explained that they were preparing a stage performance for the upcoming Durga Puja celebrations.
A group of enthusiastic ladies had taken the lead in teaching them the dance, and together they were rehearsing for the festival.
To my surprise, they invited me to join them. Although I was new to the society and personally didn’t know anyone, I had always enjoyed dancing.
Their warmth and encouragement left me little room to hesitate, so I happily agreed.
When the festival finally arrived, I found myself stepping onto the grand stage with them.
The park was transformed into a festive ground, filled with music, decorations, and a crowd buzzing with excitement.
Everyone seemed so confident, greeting one another like old friends, dressed in their elegant best, radiating joy and poise.
I, however, had chosen simpler attire, thinking it appropriate, only to realize it stood out in contrast. My mind began to compare, measure, and whisper: “Do you really belong here?”
The Subtle Divide
As the celebrations went on, I noticed the divide more clearly. Many of the participants already knew each other well, bonded over shared stories, and spoke about their previous performances with ease.
Some conversations extended to travel experiences abroad or business ventures—topics far removed from mine.
I smiled politely, listened with genuine interest, and tried to join in, but every word I spoke felt like it belonged to a different world.
The feeling of being out of place is not always about physical surroundings. Sometimes, it is about invisible walls—culture, familiarity, or confidence—that separate us from others. In that moment,
I felt like an outsider watching a play in which everyone else already knew their lines.
The Turning Point
But the story did not end there. During a short break, I stepped aside with a cup of coffee, quietly observing the lively atmosphere.
That’s when a gentleman approached me with a friendly smile. Unlike others, he didn’t ask about my background, my travels, or my experience.
Instead, he asked a simple, genuine question: “What inspired you to join this senior citizen dance group?”
That question shifted everything. For the first time, I felt seen not as an outsider but as someone with a story worth sharing.
I spoke about my love for dance, my eagerness to connect with new people, and the joy of participating in something bigger than myself.
In that moment, I realized I had been focusing too much on my differences and had forgotten to embrace what made me unique.
My background, my journey, and my willingness to join them were not weaknesses—they were strengths.
By the time I stepped back onto the stage, I wasn’t dancing to impress. I was dancing to share my energy, my joy, and my true self.
To my surprise, I saw nods of approval, smiles of encouragement, and even admiration from the same people who earlier had felt like strangers.
The Lesson in Discomfort
That day taught me something profound: feeling out of place is not always a curse. It is, in fact, an invitation to grow.
Discomfort shakes us out of our comfort zones and forces us to reflect on who we are and what we bring to the table.
I realized that feeling out of place sharpens self-awareness. It teaches humility because you recognize the vastness of the world.
It teaches resilience because you learn to stand tall despite doubt. And most importantly, it teaches authenticity—because the only way to truly connect is to embrace yourself as you are.
The Universal Experience
If you think about it, all of us have experienced this at some point —your first day at a new school, your first job interview, moving into a new neighborhood, or even joining a gathering where traditions differ from your own.
These are universal moments of human vulnerability.
Yet, they are also universal opportunities. Each time we feel out of place, we expand our horizons.
We learn empathy for others who may feel the same, and we discover the power of staying true to ourselves even when surrounded by difference.
My final submission
Looking back, I no longer see that festival performance as a moment of inadequacy. Instead, I see it as a chapter of awakening—one that reminded me that belonging does not always mean blending in.
Sometimes, it means shining in your own unique shade of light, even when the room is filled with many colors.
So, dear friends, if you ever find yourself feeling out of place, remember this: you are not alone.
That uneasy space can become the very ground where your confidence takes root and your individuality blossoms.
After all, the world does not need perfect conformity—it needs diverse voices, authentic stories, and hearts that dare to stand tall in unfamiliar spaces.
When was the last time you felt out of place, and what did it teach you?
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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If money didn’t matter, if calories didn’t count, if chubbier was in fact sexier, I’d be some sort of food critic or food blogger. I’d eat and eat and eat. Fascinating foods in fascinating places. N’er a worry about growing larger, horizontally.
I’d also love to take in, adopt and love, as many kids from foster care as I could possibly house. I’d be a stay at home mom and spend all day making their lives full, making them feel happy and safe and loved. But I’d need a big, big house and no job.
Being a Walmart greeter might be fun. Saying good morning or hello all day long. Getting paid to people watch. That be cool. Our Walmart greeters are posted at the door as people leave the store and they put a green (or whatever colour they have) mark through the middle of the receipt. So it’s a bit more than just greeting. Although in the winter months it would be pretty chilly sitting there.
This kid sits beside me at Cordelia’s HS grad in June and asks if I want a selfie, I’m like of me, no thanks…he says no, you and I, I said okay sure lol…turns out he lives just down the street from me, cute kid
List three jobs you’d consider pursuing if money didn’t matter.
The prompt asked me to list three jobs I’d consider if money didn’t matter. But here’s the thing, I’ve been working without a paycheck for quite some time. People say it’s fulfilling, full of joy, and worth all the tears and fears. And sure, that’s true sometimes. But here’s the truth they don’t put on motivational posters: being a stay-at-home parent is exhausting, frustrating and sometimes makes you wonder why you signed up for this. On hindsight, terrible idea – but do overs are not an option .
Mood swings? Goes without saying, permanent check. Tantrums? There has to be an anomaly, double check. You’re supposed to be available to everyone, know their needs before they say them, which makes me wonder if I should put ‘psychic’ on my résumé. Honestly, this isn’t one job; it is many. Teacher, negotiator, nurse, storyteller, counselor, and yes, occasionally stand-up comedian to break the tension or create more confusion.
So maybe I am already doing more than three jobs without money ever being the motivation. Which means, I aced the prompt.
And now, since it’s Friyay, I’m going to call it a win and go refuel before the fumes run out.
If only résumés accepted ‘tantrum negotiator’ as a skill.
I hope this piece finds everyone in good spirits and ready for a bit of honest self-reflection.
Today’s prompt asks an intriguing question: “What’s a topic or issue about which you’ve changed your mind?”
At first glance, this may sound simple, but the truth is, it touches something profoundly human—our capacity for growth and transformation, our willingness to take in fresh ideas and let go of old habits.
Redefining Success
In my younger years, success felt like a list of accomplishments—a secure job, recognition, financial stability, and the admiration of others. I measured success by the medals one could show the world.
Looking back, those early beliefs shaped my decisions and my admiration for people with status and power.
But life, as it does, taught me another story. I watched those with outward success struggle behind closed doors—exhausted, lonely, or unfulfilled.
Meanwhile, I began noticing the quiet joy and inner peace radiating from teachers, artists, caregivers, and small business owners—the very people who found meaning away from the spotlight.
Slowly, my view shifted. What truly matters is walking a path that reflects authentic values, waking each day with integrity and contentment, not with the world’s applause but with your own sense of purpose.
From Certainty to Creative Curiosity
I once believed strength meant unwavering certainty— knowing answers, standing firm, and guarding opinions against all challenge.
I admired those who appeared immovable. Yet reality is rarely so clear—life is full of complexity and paradox, constantly evolving.
I learned that rigid certainty can become a cage, blinding us to new vistas and to the richness of possibility.
Now, I see that it’s far wiser to be curious than certain—to question, to admit doubt, and to reconsider past opinions. This isn’t weakness—it’s a kind of deep intelligence.
As John Maynard Keynes put it: “When the facts change, I change my mind. What do you do, sir?” Curiosity opens doors to discovery, while certainty too often closes them.
Relationships: The Power of Empathy
In matters of the heart, my early assumption was that relationships thrive on sameness — shared beliefs, interests, and ambitions.
I worried that differences could weaken relationships, but life showed me otherwise. The best connections often come from diversity, not sameness.
Empathy—understanding and respecting others’ experiences and viewpoints—became the key to building connections.
This change brought liberation. It led to friendships and conversations deeper than any before.
I realized that listening gently is more powerful than speaking forcefully, and understanding one another matters far more than winning an argument.
Why It Matters?
Growth is the heartbeat of a meaningful life. To never change opinions is to stagnate, to miss life’s evolving lessons.
Changing your mind is not a betrayal of your past—it is a celebration of your present self, evidence of learning and reflection.
My Final Submission
So, when asked about issues I’ve changed my mind on, the real answer is: many.
From success and certainty to relationships—and perhaps even more in the future. The world around us prizes “being right,” but it’s openness to change that sows wisdom and kindness.
Let’s carry this forward: Never fear a change of mind. Embrace it. It means you’re still growing, still learning, still alive to new beauty and new truths.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Crashed after dinner last night. Just unconscious on the bed after that long day.
Woke up shortly before 3am to rain and work worries. I’m always remembering how far behind the 8 ball I am in the wee hours. And I had to close the skylight…
Today was almost a low-key day in the office, but suddenly, I was invited to a meeting to get me to go to Phoenix for a business trip.
Three days early next month.
Though my boss was in more of a fly in early, do the things, fly home that night frame of mind when he got wind of it.
Then, there was further discussion after the meeting, some gaps in knowledge / understanding were filled, and now I don’t need to go at all.
Probably.
Though maybe for a day after all if something new comes up.
I feel like if I delve into one, I’m ignoring the others. There’s too much to know and too many old countries to visit.
Ukraine, Germany, Scotland and Ireland. Where do I start?
I carry some of the old family recipes with me and I hope my kids will continue this tradition. My Irish Gramma said that my love of potatoes as a kid, and my dark hair, were products of her heritage.
Yet I’m built sturdy and tall like my German Gramma.
Although I like to look like a lady and don’t like to break a nail or mess my hair, I can chase cows or pluck chickens with the best of them.
I attribute this to my ancestors.
My Scottish Grampa rarely talked of his Scottish roots although he and my Gramma did go back and visit both his homeland and hers (Ireland).
My Ukrainian Grampa had this thing where he only identified as “Canadian” and wanted nothing to do with his Ukrainian heritage. (Whatever Canadian means I guess). If he could only see the melting pot it is now.
To cheer up the Kiddos, the entire family decided to go out and play a round of 18 holes.
At a miniature golf course.
We do OK, but we’re not golf club membership rich.
I grabbed my camera, still loaded with TMAX 400, and kept the 100mm lens.
I was off my game, but in my defense, I felt like sinister forces were watching me the whole time…
Halloween decorations. In September!
I was so unnerved, I completely forgot to record my exposure settings! I think they all hovered around f5.6 and 1/60 sec, but I don’t know for sure.
When I didn’t feel watched by sinister forces, I felt dreamed about by sinister forces.
Clearly, a Grey alien had its way with an elephant at some point in this creature’s family tree…
If your ball lands in this, just take the 6 strokes and move on.
It wasn’t until near the end when we finally encountered smiling ghouls and monsters. They were probably laughing at us…
Not much to learn here technically, because I didn’t bother to record my exposure settings. But the light meter seems to be reasonably reliable, and TMAX 400 is a decent film to use. Not sure I love it, but I don’t hate it.
This poem captures a moment of quiet reflection and solitude. It shows a woman sitting alone, immersed in her calm world where her thoughts and dreams unfold.
The image of her flowing hair and elegant black dress suggests timeless beauty and mystery. The poem encourages you to appreciate the deep emotions found in a single peaceful moment.
Silent Grace
She sits alone, in quiet grace, With flowing hair, a calm embrace. The world behind, she turns away, Lost in thought where shadows play.
Her dress of black, so soft and fine, Shapes her form, like vintage wine. Beneath the sky, in light of the day, She dreams in hues both dark and gray.
No words are said, no sound is heard, Her presence speaks without a word. A secret kept in her silent space, A moment held in time and place.
Which tradition in your life have you gently redefined, and how has that choice allowed you to honor your roots while living with more authenticity?
This is a good question, answered previously, We Are Equal. I will always be proud of the community I belong to and our practices and heritage.
My better half gave me another prompt today, which somehow relates to this question: Which tradition in your life have you gently redefined, and how has that choice allowed you to honor your roots while living with more authenticity?
This is a tough one.
“Redefining a tradition doesn’t mean abandoning it; for me, it has meant carrying it differently while ensuring it remains alive.”
Belonging to an indigenous community, tradition and culture is part of who we are. It does not matter where we move, who we marry, what faith we believe in and so on – we carry our tradition and culture with us.
The first thing that comes to mind is marriage. I married outside my community. Although this is not uncommon, it is not always welcomed. Understandably so. My community is small, and we want the children to marry within to preserve our roots and people. Being a matrilineal society, this is even more crucial. One might think this is archaic thinking, but realistically it is not. We are a small tribe – the 1971 Indian Census put our numbers at just below 500,000. We must have grown since then, but I don’t believe it’s by a huge margin. What is 500,000 compared to a billion-plus population? There is this looming fear that as a tribe we could fade and no one would notice.
I can say I’ve honored my roots by preserving and continuing certain traditions. For one, I have retained my surname. And my children carry both our names. I also try to instill the values and practices I was brought up with. We have a strong sense of community and family dynamics. And as societies become more nuclear and individualistic, it is important that my children learn these.
My children got a peek into this community during times of celebration and mourning. My son was 9 when he saw how the community came together after my uncle’s death. It was an enlightening experience for him since we do not see this at all in the city. He met more family members and relatives and got to partake in the practices. My daughter experienced the same when Dad passed away. Both not only learned but remember what it is like to be part of a huge family, clan and to experience the community spirit for themselves. They both love going home and cherish the time they spend there. They have built strong bonds with their cousins and are learning that family is important.
Moreover, marrying outside my community continues to broaden my perspective. I’m learning more about other cultures, communities, and the world around me, which I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to if I had remained within. I’ve discovered that I can take the good from each community and weave it into my life without compromising my own roots.
Faith is another aspect that allows me to live authentically while not discarding my roots. At present, when politics has taken root and brought division within our people, standing up for our beliefs while respecting and honoring our culture is even more crucial. Since we are Christians, the non-Christians sometimes perceive us to have betrayed our roots and paint us as “impure.” But really, who is a pure race or ethnicity? If we were to check our DNA, we’d find we’re made up of various ancestors, wouldn’t we?
There are certain practices that are contrary to Biblical teachings, and those we do not follow. But those are religious practices, not cultural ones. I believe that although as Christians we don’t follow some religious beliefs, we are not less “pure,” nor have we dishonored our roots in any way. In fact, as a Christian community we understand the importance of preserving culture and traditions. When we lose the culture, we lose the people. And how can there be a tribe without its distinct culture, the very thing that distinguishes it from everyone else?
“To me, authenticity is not about choosing between roots and faith, it is about weaving them together so both can flourish.”
New Daily Prompt: It’s said that if you force yourself to do something over and over again, you can make it a habit. What habits have you forced yourself to develop? Was it worth it?
I got into the habit of writing my newdailyprompt posts in advance so they’d never be late.
I’d like to be able to answer this as unabashedly as Mike Williams did, but I’m all over the place when it comes to brands. I kind of hate to admit that I like certain brands, but I suppose deep down I do. Having grown up wearing knock offs of absolutely everything, I really do appreciate owning something name brand.
At the same time, half of my wardrobe and half of what’s in my home have come from thrift stores. That’s the honest to god truth.
I can’t think of a single brand where I absolutely love everything they create. What I mean to say is I couldn’t say oh I love Coach. I might like half the stuff they make but detest the other half.
When it comes to food I typically don’t buy generic stuff because a lot of the time there is a difference in the quality.
In the pre-Sid days, the baby of our family was our Golden Retriever, Remi…this was on her first bday The party with Remi’s bff, who just happened to be the pup of Cordelia’s bff
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt made me pause and reflect deeply: “Your life without a computer: what does it look like?”
At first glance, it might seem like a simple, almost hypothetical question. But when you really think about it, the idea of life without a computer is both profound and challenging.
Computers have become so central to our daily existence that imagining a life without them feels akin to imagining life without electricity or running water.
And yet, let’s take a step back and explore what that life might truly look like.
A Slower, More Intentional Life
Without computers, life would naturally slow down.
Today, everything is instantaneous—emails arrive in seconds, online shopping delivers items overnight, and knowledge from across the globe is just a click away.
Without computers, we would return to handwritten letters, landline telephones, and long waits at post offices. Waiting would become a part of life again, teaching us patience and the joy of anticipation.
Human interactions might regain their depth. Conversations would be longer and more meaningful.
Instead of quick texts or emojis, we would share our thoughts face-to-face, and perhaps rediscover the art of truly listening. Life might feel quieter, yet richer, in this analog rhythm.
Knowledge Through Books and Paper
One of the most profound changes would be in education and the consumption of knowledge.
Without computers, libraries would regain their central role. Dusty shelves, the smell of old pages, and the thrill of discovering a rare book would replace Google searches and online databases.
Students would once again rely on handwritten notes, making the act of learning slower but perhaps more memorable.
In this world, comprehension would deepen because learning would be a tactile, immersive experience.
The absence of digital distractions could foster focus, reflection, and curiosity in ways that screen-based learning sometimes cannot.
Communication: Local Before Global
Computers have transformed the world into a small, interconnected village.
Without them, our sphere of communication would shrink to our immediate surroundings—family, friends, and local communities.
News would arrive via newspapers or radio rather than instant updates.
This isn’t necessarily worse, just different. Life without computers might strengthen local bonds. Neighbors would know each other better, local shops would become hubs of conversation, and a sense of community might deepen.
Yet, the magic of connecting instantly with someone across continents would be lost, reminding us of the trade-offs between speed and intimacy.
Work and Professional Life
Professional life without computers would look remarkably different. For many of us, computers are the backbone of our work—whether writing, designing, analyzing, or teaching.
Without them, offices would be filled with towering ledgers, filing cabinets, and handwritten records. Efficiency would drop, but creativity and personal skill might flourish in unexpected ways.
I recall my early professional life in banking, before the widespread adoption of computers. Balancing ledgers manually was a meticulous process, requiring patience and precision.
Closing financial statements in March became a collective ritual, bonding us as a team and giving us a tangible sense of accomplishment.
These experiences remind me that while computers have accelerated work, they have also replaced certain moments of human connection and craftsmanship.
Entertainment and Creativity
No computer means no streaming platforms, no social media, no digital music libraries, and no video games.
Entertainment would return to theaters, concerts, books, and live gatherings. Children might spend more time playing outside, inventing games, or creating crafts with their own hands.
Yes. Without computers, entertainment would take on a different flavor.
Creativity, too, would adapt. Writers would return to notebooks or typewriters, artists to paints and canvases, and musicians to raw, analog recordings.
The result? Authentic, tactile creations, full of imperfection and soul—a reminder of the human touch behind every masterpiece.
The Double-Edged Sword
Life without computers has both appeal and challenge.
On one hand, we would gain patience, deeper human connections, and a slower, more thoughtful existence.
On the other hand, we would lose speed, efficiency, global connectivity, and the immense opportunities technology provides.
Consider healthcare, for instance.
Diagnoses, surgeries, research, and telemedicine would all slow down, impacting quality and reach.
Education would be more localized, and businesses would face challenges in scaling without digital marketing or data analytics.
Yet, the human element—the doctor who listens, the teacher who mentors, the shopkeeper who knows your family—might become more pronounced.
A Balanced Perspective
Imagining life without a computer allows us to appreciate the tools we often take for granted. Computers are neither inherently good nor bad—they are enablers.
They can empower or distract, connect or isolate. The challenge lies in using them wisely, balancing the digital and analog worlds, and ensuring that technology enhances rather than replaces our humanity.
A life without computers might be quieter, slower, and more personal, but it could also foster reflection, creativity, and authentic connections.
By imagining this world, we gain insight into what truly matters: relationships, experiences, and the mindful use of tools that surround us.
My Final Submission
So, what does my life look like without a computer? It’s a life that embraces simplicity, values patience, and savors personal interactions.
It’s a life where books, letters, and face-to-face conversations reclaim their importance.
Yet it’s also a life that reminds me of the doors computers open—the gateways to knowledge, innovation, and connection.
Ultimately, the lesson is clear: computers are powerful allies, but they are tools, not the essence of life itself.
By imagining life without them, we are reminded to use them with intention, ensuring that our human experiences remain rich, meaningful, and balanced.
Because in the end, it is not the hum of machines or the glow of screens that defines us—it is the depth of our connections, the pursuit of knowledge, and the joy we find in living fully, whether digitally or analogically.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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After the rain this morning, the humidity now shows 82%… what was the rain for . Everywhere else, Fall has begun. For us, I have to say a second Summer is waiting in the wings. Now let’s see if there’ll be a Winter.
It’s just been an odd few weeks and days. Global events continue to attract attention. We can’t pretend to live under a rock even if we wanted to – though I confess, I’ve tried for a few years now. But life does not stop.
As it moves on, so do the festivals. Navratri has begun, a nine-night celebration of the goddess Durga. Navaratri is an annual Hindu festival observed in honor of the goddess Durga, an aspect of Adi Parashakti, the supreme goddess. It spans over nine nights. It is observed for different reasons and celebrated differently in various parts of the Hindu Indian cultural sphere (Source:Wikipedia). Here in my adopted state, it’s marked by Garba, a vibrant dance festival. Side note: I’m not an expert at this, it’s just my observation and what I’ve heard. Each day has a theme color, and if red is the day’s choice, the city becomes a sea of red outfits. Evenings are filled with lights, music, and dance gatherings, where people dress up and attend one of the organized dances which is spread out across the city. Though the ticket prices aren’t as friendly, people still flock to these events. A standing joke calls this the mating season, with a spike in condom sales . It also becomes a match making hub or a place where cupid strikes, aimlessly? Cupid seems to be very busy this time of year – though I wonder if he ever runs out of arrows . Jokes aside, it is quite a beautiful sight to see places lit up, alive and people dressed up.
I wish I had my daughter’s confidence. For her homework today, I suggested we just print some artwork, but of course, she wanted to draw. All the while, she told me she’s the best artist ever and that she invented art . Her drawings are improving, though she’s embarrassed by her earlier ones . Her funny bone keeps us laughing too, she calls the soles of her feet the “palm” of her foot, the elbow the “knee” of the hand, the shin the “chin,” and the knee the “elbow of the leg.” One of her riddles: What do you call a fly with no wings? … a walk.
Even as laughter fills the home, I mourn my uncle. He was one of the most approachable of all my uncles, the one we turned to when no one else seemed to understand. He balanced faith with reason and his wisdom was unmatched. One of his most admirable qualities was his unwavering faith in God. Despite a life full of trials that could have broken anyone, he never once asked “why me?” or felt bitter towards God. This unshakeable faith carried him until the very end. And that is worth remembering.
And so, these past days have been a mix of loss and laughter. Perhaps that’s what the seasons of life really are, moments of grief and joy intertwined, with meaning found in the ordinary, the mundane and even the crazy rides. Some days you cry, some days you laugh, and some days you wonder if Cupid needs an HR department to manage all those overworked arrows .
I recently shared a bunch of cell phone pictures of Manny, the praying mantis that hung out at my back door for three days.
I’m embarrassed at the number of pictures of her on my phone, most of which I can’t bring myself to delete.
Some people might even accuse me of being obsessed.
But I also, eventually, realized that this was an incredible macro photography opportunity.
And took two whole whopping photos with my film camera.
And the focus is soft in both…
That said, I still like this photo. I didn’t use any extension tubes, so as with all my macro photos, I don’t feel like I’m getting close enough. But I think that’s OK here.
Naturally, I forgot to record my exposure settings. Sigh.
Still TMAX 400. Still my K-1000 and 100mm lens.
Say hello to my leetle friend!
Turns out she was stuck in that spot for the three days she hung around. As soon as I laid down some painter’s tape that her feet could stick to, she bailed.
The Key to Happiness
This poem explores the essence of happiness—not in material things, but in simple joys like a smile, laughter, friendship, and moments of peace. It reveals that happiness, when shared, can brighten even the darkest times.
Happiness Is All About
Finding joy in simple things— A morning breeze, a sparrow’s flight, Laughing hearts that softly sing. These moments make our spirits bright.
It isn’t what the world can buy, Not gold or gadgets, cars or toys; It’s laughter shared when sorrows cry, The warmth of friendship’s gentle joys.
It isn’t always feeling glad— Even rain must cool the sun; Sometimes life can make us sad, But shared smiles help us overcome.
Just see the monks who wandered wide, Spreading laughter far and near; Through tears or loss, their joy survived, And inner fireworks brought them cheer.
Happiness grows when passed along. It softens grief and lifts the soul. A silly joke, a favorite song, Can make a broken heart feel whole.
So next time sadness finds your door, Face the mirror, let laughter out; The smallest joy can mean much more— Yes, happiness is all about.
Forget brands. What about when your mind has its own space?
Brands? I am my own brand . I don’t associate with any brand as long as there’s quality. And honestly, I don’t believe most companies take their CSR initiatives seriously – it’s more about saving tax than real responsibility. Boring prompt. Got to exercise my brain.
So maybe the better question is: what happens when your mind has its own space?
This morning, standing at the window, I watched the world pass by. People going about their day, some in a hurry while others strolled as though they had all the time. And maybe they do. Maybe they’ve learned to master time.
I’m trying to be present – in the moment, listening to the chaotic sounds, feel my own breathing, watch as the sky turns brighter and the dark clouds move on. Life is humming, brimming. I thought, maybe there is calm in the chaos.
Then I catch my thoughts jumping from one thing to the next. From life – how big and fleeting it is, to the small and ordinary: I need to clean this room, there are things to do. From the serious to the flimsy. I wonder what I’ll write about today. The prompt feels uninspiring. My thoughts hop, skip and jump. They’re lurking in there, yet if anyone asked me what I’m thinking about, my honest answer would be nothing. Because it is nothing. Even though my head is churning out some idea or the other, there’s also nothing swirling about.
How can there be nothing? Are these thoughts truly nothing? Maybe they’re not worth sharing, or too outlandish. Some could be devastating, some I push away. Others are whimsical. I like whimsical. They take the edge off, bring a little sunshine into the clouded brain.
But my mind drifted to death again. My uncle, my mom’s brother, passed away last evening. My cousin said it was peaceful. She gave him a drink, and he drifted off to sleep, forever. Peaceful, yet painful. You expect death, but it never fails to take you by surprise when it comes. My uncle had been preparing himself for a long time. A few weeks ago, when sudden weakness overtook him, he said whatever needed saying.
And now I’m left with this strange mix, calm and chaos, everything and nothing, and the quiet truth that some things still take your breath away, even when you’re ready for them.
I hope this blog finds you smiling and ready for a quiet moment of thought. Today’s writing prompt truly spoke to me: “What details of your life could you pay more attention to?”
It’s so easy to get caught up in the “big” things — milestones, celebrations, achievements.
Yet the quality of our days is built from small choices and observations. If we want richer, calmer, more meaningful lives, perhaps it’s time to lean closer and notice.
Rediscovering Life’s Hidden Details
Life rushes past, and we often chase bold goals, overlooking the gentle moments that give our stories depth.
Today’s reflection is simple yet profound: What details deserve more attention in your life?
Beneath daily routines lie quiet threads — the very fabric that adds meaning, color, and unexpected joy.
Savoring Presence
Distractions can blur life’s beauty. The texture of morning sunlight, the delicate swirl of tea steam, the steady rhythm of your own breath — all are treasures disguised as ordinary moments.
Bringing mindful attention to these small experiences infuses clarity and warmth into even the simplest day.
Nourishing Relationships
Meaningful connections rarely come from grand gestures alone; they’re shaped by everyday kindness.
A heartfelt thank-you, an honest check-in, or simply listening deeply can strengthen bonds and nurture love.
Pause and ask: Could attention to a friend’s laughter, a colleague’s effort, or a loved one’s quiet hope spark new warmth in your world?
Listening to Your Body
Our bodies whisper before they shout — a hint of fatigue, a subtle ache, a change in appetite. Respecting these signals is a gentle act of self-care.
Hydrate, move, rest, and nourish yourself without guilt. Caring for your health is honoring the vessel that carries every dream and memory.
Tracking Financial Footsteps
Money may not feel poetic, yet financial mindfulness quietly shapes peace of mind. Small habits — noting daily spending, setting aside savings, reviewing goals — build a future aligned with your values . Mindful choices about investments or purchases create freedom, not restriction. Financial wellness is a detail that fosters stability and calm.
Curating Your Environment
Our surroundings nourish the spirit more than we realize. A clear corner, a plant soaking up sunlight, soothing colors on a wall — these can lift your mood or spark creativity.
By tending to your spaces thoughtfully, you invite focus and serenity into your days.
Celebrating Growth
Pause to witness your own evolution: each new skill, every lesson learned, the quiet resilience born from challenges . Journaling, gentle goal-setting, or reflecting on progress shines a light on victories that might otherwise go unnoticed. Celebrating small wins keeps curiosity alive and fuels the journey ahead.
Living with Gratitude
Gratitude transforms perception, revealing abundance even in hard seasons.
A daily note of blessings, a moment savoring kindness, or silent appreciation for an ordinary joy can heal stress and deepen happiness. Recognizing goodness creates a steady foundation for lasting peace.
The Tapestry of Awareness
Attention is a priceless gift. Life’s greatest treasures often hide in simple moments: a child’s laughter, a spark of intuition, the patient pursuit of a dream.
When we honor the smallest details, we find that the richest rewards have been waiting all along.
Step into tomorrow with curiosity and kindness, dear friends. Which overlooked detail will you choose to illuminate today?
This blog invites you to reflect, appreciate, and practice mindfulness in every aspect of life—making each day more vibrant.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I know I’ve been a bit of a tease about self-portraits of late.
And while no one has expressed any actual interest in seeing any of them, I kinda feel a little bad.
So I’ve decided to take a chance, risk the security of my privacy and identity, and share one of the shots.
Now there are two caveats.
First, you need to promise not to use this photo to hunt me down and kill me.
If that’s your intention, stop here and move on to your second-favorite crush / nemesis / frenemy.
Second, I had just gotten out of the shower and decided the steamy mirror was too good to not use for this selfie.
So be warned! I took this right after getting out of the shower.
You may see more of me than you want!
Waaaaay more!
You have been warned!
There’s no turning back if you keep scrolling down.
No unseeing what you’re about to see.
You’ll never get over your jealousy of my physique if you keep going.
OK?
Well, then, OK.
Here ya go:
Well, well, well, look who clicked through. It’s a good thing this mirror was steamed up enough to protect my dignity. And yes, I DID waste an actual film shot on this picture. All for this gag. You’re welcome.
Some of my tags for this post will likely be viewed as trolling. But given past experience (oh the responses I got to “Raymond Burr naked”), I’m expecting a spike in visits from all the perverts searching those specific tags.
This poem celebrates the idea of living life with boldness, laughter, and mischief instead of quietly “aging with grace.”
It encourages embracing joy, chasing dreams, and creating stories worth telling, reminding us that wrinkles are not signs of decline but testimonies of a life well-lived.
# A Gentle Reminder #
Your time on Earth is brief, my friend, No one knows how our days will end, So do not whisper, soft, restrained, Let joy be wild, let life unchained.
Age is just a number, don’t make it cold, Fill it with laughter, with stories bold, Chase the stars, embrace the night, Dance in shadows, bask in light.
Let wrinkles speak of life’s own stories, Of secret dreams and cherished memories, Of pranks that sparked, of love that stayed, Of reckless choices, the history was made.
Mischief keeps the spirit free, Let audacity shape your legacy, Live so brightly, the world will tell, Sparked with passion, lived so well.
Let mischief guard emotion like a tree, Let bold audacity set your soul free, Live so fearless, let echoes swell, A blaze of passion—lived so well.
This morning it rained as if nothing could stop it. Now, it’s bright and sunny, a hint that summer is back? The weather has been playing havoc with me though.
Do more? I don’t want to do more. We live in a hurried world. There’s always something to do and somewhere to be. We’re running after time instead of allowing ourselves to pace it. We are already doing so much. And we constantly complain that we want to relax and slow down.
We’ve allowed ourselves to be burnt out chasing after, I’m not sure what anymore. But we are exhausted and it shows in our actions.
That said, I can do more of laughter, chase the silly and mischief, be weird (my daughter says I embarrass her ), dance like the world’s my stage, sing to my heart’s content even though I can’t hold a tune, nurture relationships, create meaningful connections, and continue to show up. Doesn’t matter how, where, or why – whatever the life and personal situation is – just show up, for myself and for others.
I could pause more, notice the small moments, the comfort of an old song that sneaks up on me, the way light filters in at odd hours. (The smell of rain on dry ground is wasted in the city; for that, I’d need the mountains .)
I could give myself permission to not have it all together. To embrace life in all its mess and let beauty unfold anyway.
I could do more storytelling. My daughter often asks about my life, and that’s my cue to share memories, even the messy ones. That’s where laughter, learning and connection live.
And most of all, I could simply be more present. Because moments don’t return, and I don’t want to miss the ones that matter.
Hopefully, one day I’ll find myself resting in those lush green mountains…
And the one lifeline I can never have enough of – coffee . Though at this rate, it may have to share the spotlight with laughter, mischief, and a few embarrassing dance moves.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and open to a gentle moment of reflection.
Pausing amid the day’s gentle quiet, I find myself reflecting on the writing prompt: “What skill would you like to learn?”
At first, it might seem like a question fit for a fleeting moment of self-reflection, yet it quietly sponsors a journey into our desires, motivations, and secret strengths.
Learning, after all, is one of the greatest gifts that life offers. It is a process that never truly ends—a source of growth that is available to us whether we’re beginning our education or exploring passions in our golden years.
The skills we admire or choose to pursue do more than fill our days; they transform the way we understand ourselves and others, painting new colors on the canvas of our identity.
As I trace my own aspirations, images come to life: the stroke of a paintbrush, the rhythm of music, the lens capturing life’s beauty, the joy of a perfectly cooked dish—so many alluring possibilities.
But the skill that resonates most intimately with my heart is storytelling—communicating emotions, wisdom, and experiences, both through written words and lived moments.
Why Storytelling Shapes Life
Stories, from ancient fireside tales to contemporary blogs, form the heartbeat of community and culture.
Through stories, we not only help others make sense of the world but also find comfort and inspiration for ourselves.
To learn storytelling is to become both a mirror and a beacon—reflecting shared truths and guiding others toward empathy and understanding.
There have been moments when sharing my personal journey allowed others to walk alongside me, as echoed in their comments and encouragement.
In these exchanges, storytelling proved itself not merely an art, but a bridge between souls—a way to spark curiosity, heal, and empower.
Celebrating the Process
Learning any skill, including storytelling, is a path lined with both doubt and breakthrough.
Early steps may stumble, but each effort becomes a vital part of the story itself. Through practice, resilience forms, and with each draft and revision, a quiet confidence takes hold.
Success and failure are simply chapters in the narrative—each one offering lessons in patience and humility.
The Skills That Light Our Souls
Of course, storytelling may not be everyone’s calling; some may be captivated by gardening, coaxing life from soil, while others dream of making music or perfecting public speaking.
Each aspiration reflects individual values and priorities—a desire to beautify the world, connect with others, or honor curiosity and purpose.
No matter the skill, what unites all learners is the sense of adventure. Learning stretches our limits and infuses daily life with energy and renewal.
It also encourages self-examination: Do we want to create, help, connect, or simply enjoy life more deeply? The skill we choose glimmers as a reflection of our inner world.
Listening to the Heart’s Prompt
To truly honor the writing prompt, sit quietly and listen. Jot down three skills that inspire longing or admiration.
Allow your heart to suggest answers that may surprise you. The act of naming a skill is itself the first courageous step; seeing it written brings intention and momentum.
As you journey forward, celebrate small achievements, seek mentorship, share with others, and delight in the process itself.
The skill is a vessel for self-discovery and connection—a way to appreciate life’s richness, build bridges, and leave gentle imprints on the world.
So—what skill invites you to wonder? Whatever your answer, may you greet it with joy, growth, and the spirit of adventure that learning offers.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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It’s maybe not the best piece of advice ever but it’s one that stuck with me since I was a kid, mostly because of it’s ridiculousness. I had completely forgotten about this until I mentioned it to Just Rojie the other day.
I don’t remember where we were when he first said it, but we must’ve been picking chairs to sit somewhere at a table, possibly a restaurant, and he insisted on a particular chair because “the sheriff never sits with his back to the door“.
It took me a second to process what he meant. He had to sit so that he faced the exit. Interesting. And I laughed.
Dad, you’re not a Sheriff so chill. But he meant it, even if in a goofy way.
Now guess who never sits (if I can possibly help it), with my back to the door. Yep, me, the sheriff. (I’m not actually a sheriff).
Dark & grainy photo from > 10 years ago at a staff Christmas party (I’m on left, coworker Dana on right)
The poem captures the emotional journey of self-acceptance and healing. It conveys how each experience, scar, and doubt shapes identity, blending moments of vulnerability and strength.
The poem celebrates living fully—embracing both joys and sorrows—and affirms a sense of wholeness and hope as the essence of being
# I am my song #
When morning opens my eyes, I gather my scattered dreams— Some radiant hope, some shadows of fear. Each one reminds me I am here.
The mirror shows the flaws I hide, A map of scars beneath my eyes. Each mark, each line, a story untold, A quiet bloom, healing as it unfolds.
“Who am I?” the questions cry, Thunder in my restless mind. Yet light lingers behind each storm, A gentle calm I am learning to form.
I stand, I breathe, I let it be— All the broken pieces, all they’ve shown. Through silent nights and endless roads, Through tears that fall and laughter that glows.
Let this heart be open, wide, and alive, Embracing loss, embracing love, embracing life. For every shadow has its place, Every wound leads to a softer grace.
So I rise—whole and unafraid, With every breath, with every step made. I am my song, my light, my fight — Complete, in shadow and in light.
What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
Ehhh, answered but is this good enough for a repeat or I’m too lazy to replace it .
I can’t really say I’ve got earth-shattering advice from people. Maybe I was too young, too dense or just too busy being stupid . Honestly, most of what I’ve learned came from books and at times from songs.
Lionel Richie asked, “Hello, is it me you’re looking for?” Bon Jovi shouted, “It’s my life, I’m gonna live while I’m alive.” Aerosmith whispered, “Dream On,” reminding me not to “miss a thing.”
Life, of course, has its own rhythm. Poison admitted “Every rose has its thorn,” Nazareth said “Love hurts,” and R.E.M. confessed “Everybody hurts.” Still, Journey encouraged me to “Don’t stop believin’,” and Jimmy Cliff made me “see clearly now.”
And faith? Bon Jovi urged me to “Keep the Faith,” even when I feel like I’m “Losing My Religion.” That tension is real, I wrestle with it.
But friendship pulls me back: Bill Withers said, “Lean on me,” The Rembrandts promised, “I’ll be there for you,” and James Taylor quietly added, “You’ve got a friend.”
Maybe that’s all the advice I need: to hurt, to heal, to keep the faith (even when it wavers), to lean on friends, and, as Lennon imagined, to still believe in something better.
And in the end, the greatest advice was already written long before the music, Ecclesiastes 3 says:
There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and ready to dive into a topic that touches all of us at some point in our lives.
Today’s writing prompt posed an intriguing question: “In what ways does hard work make you feel fulfilled?”
At first glance, hard work can seem like an obligation — a responsibility that often asks more of us than we think we can give.
Yet, beneath the sweat, late nights, and perseverance lies a quiet, deeply rewarding truth: hard work shapes us, gives meaning to our days, and adds a richness to life that comfort alone cannot provide.
1. A Sense of Accomplishment
One of the most immediate rewards of hard work is the feeling of accomplishment. Whether it’s finishing a demanding project, learning a new skill, or simply meeting a personal goal, the satisfaction of knowing you put in the effort and saw it through is unmatched.
This sense of achievement doesn’t just validate our abilities — it affirms our discipline, resilience, and willingness to strive for something greater.
Think of a gardener tending their plants. The daily watering, pruning, and care may feel routine, but when the first blossoms appear, there is a glow of pride.
Hard work is much the same: it’s in the steady, quiet investment of energy that beauty eventually emerges.
2. Growth Through Challenges
Hard work often requires us to stretch beyond our comfort zones. The moments that feel toughest — when you’re tempted to give up or when the task seems larger than your capacity — are the very moments that forge growth.
Every hurdle teaches us something new: patience, problem-solving, time management, or emotional strength.
Over time, this accumulation of lessons builds confidence and shapes our character. The fulfillment here is not just in completing a task, but in realizing you have become stronger, wiser, and more capable because of the journey.
3. Deepening Purpose and Meaning
Fulfillment isn’t only about results; it’s also about aligning with a purpose.
When we work hard at something that matters — whether it’s supporting our family, creating art, or contributing to a cause — the hours invested feel worthwhile.
Purpose gives hard work a heartbeat. It transforms effort into service and labor into love.
Even when the path is demanding, knowing that your work is tied to values or aspirations bigger than yourself creates a quiet contentment.
4. A Source of Joy and Pride
There’s a certain joy in looking back on the fruits of your effort. It may come in the form of a finished manuscript, a well-cooked meal, or a milestone achieved in your career.
Hard work teaches us to appreciate not only the destination but also the journey — the late-night brainstorming, the mistakes that turned into lessons, and the steady rhythm of showing up day after day.
Pride, when earned through dedication and persistence, is a healthy companion. It’s not arrogance, but rather gratitude for what you’ve been able to accomplish through determination.
5. Connection With Others
Hard work often brings people together. Collaborative projects, shared goals, or even quiet support from friends and family remind us that our efforts don’t exist in isolation.
There’s fulfillment in contributing to a team, inspiring someone else, or being inspired in return.
When we work hard alongside others, we create bonds rooted in mutual respect and shared victories.
These connections add warmth to the fulfillment that personal success alone can’t provide.
6. Resilience and Inner Peace
Hard work teaches us resilience — the ability to keep going despite setbacks. Knowing you’ve done your best, even if results aren’t perfect, brings an inner peace that shortcuts or avoidance can’t offer.
There’s a serenity in having given your all, because effort itself is an accomplishment, regardless of outcome.
Over time, this mindset fosters patience and trust in your own capabilities. Fulfillment then becomes less about applause and more about the quiet confidence that comes from steady perseverance.
My final submission
Hard work is not just about the grind or endless striving; it’s about discovering who we are in the process.
It brings a sense of purpose, growth, pride, and peace that cannot be gifted — it must be earned.
So the next time you find yourself weary in the midst of effort, pause and remind yourself: fulfillment often waits on the other side of persistence.
Like sunlight breaking through clouds, the rewards of hard work illuminate not just what you’ve achieved, but also the person you’ve become along the way.
BE HAPPY….BE ACTIVE….BE FOCUSED….BE ALIVE…
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What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?
A few years ago, I loved watching TEDx Talks, and one of the best speeches I watched was Jacqueline Way’s motivational speech.
Aside from Rhonda Byrne’s The Secret, Jacqueline’s advice resonates with me deeply, and I think when all of us do it, it will be a happy world for all of us.
I watched it again this morning, and I was inspired. She said that from an anxious, depressed person to a happy one, and that’s beautiful to hear. Find out her life-changing advice here.
All rights are retained by TEDx Talks
That’s very inspiring indeed. Anyway, I’m planning to remit all of the accumulated blessings for the church project this week, so whenever any of you want to happily share your blessings, you can do so in my latest donation project here. Though it’s only weekly or monthly, not 365 daily give that Jacqueline advice, it still matters to the community and to the world. Let me know if you want it to donate whole or half. I can do it for you.
Thank you so much for being so kind, my amazing readers. Stay blessed, and let’s make the world a better place!
While the world is tenderly asleep I lie awake, ruminating In the quiet of the dark night. Dark – since the moon decided to hide its face while the drizzling rain slowly pelts the silent streets.
The quiet thunders internally, I can hear my thoughts loud and free. They ask their questions, too heavy to answer, drawing me into matters too lofty for me.
These shadows tear open the heart to glimpse what lies within, why the well runs dry, why the soul retreats.
Dare I search for answers that crack what I long for, leaving only fragments too fragile to hold?
Or is it easier to sit in silence, pretending its weight is not deafening, while the night swallows itself whole?
Well beyond the obvious answer, which would be exercise, adulting in itself gives me energy and gets me excited.
We’ve all seen the memes about how fun it is to get a new appliance, such as a fridge or stove, once you’re a full blown boring adult. But these things do excite me.
Also rearranging furniture, a new shower curtain or bath mat perks me right up.
Today the plan is to move the upstairs couch downstairs and bring the downstairs couch upstairs. It’s one of the most exciting days in a while. We don’t really spend much time downstairs, although we should because it is very cozy and Sid’s jungle gym is down there. Plus the couch that’s down there is the comfiest couch ever made. The couch that’s upstairs is functional but hard and uncomfortable.
So later, we’re swapping them out. Before that happens, I need to organize Sid’s toys which are scattered everywhere and vacuum under the couch so that when Clint’s friend comes over to help him move the furniture he isn’t thinking to himself oh my god, this woman hasn’t vacuumed in nine years.
Because, you know, the tumbleweeds of hair from a golden retriever. They get everywhere and hide and multiply.
So yeah, this is going to be an exciting day and I’m feeling energized.
My cute, adorable, beautiful boy…Oct 2022, snagged a set of keysGonna unlock Daddy’s shed…
Now shot on Kodak TMAX 400, since I reached the end of the roll of Acros II.
So now we get to see how a faster B&W film handles the shady cove I was in.
No change in the camera: Pentax K-1000, f4 100mm macro lens.
I moved to a get a new angle and, as a bonus, closer to a couple that just wouldn’t leave me alone in this lovely cove. i made them uncomfortable. f5.6, 1/4 sec.
OK, the couple was fine, and leaving anyway when I moved to this position. But they didn’t make eye contact or acknowledge me at all. Which, honestly, was fine. f5.6, 1/4 sec. And while their departure was too slow, the shutter speed here was too fast for what I wanted.
This was a little better, smoothing out the wafer. But perhaps a bit overexposed. f16, 3 sec.
I decided to try one more angle, and couldn’t decide whether to focus on the branch or the water behind it. Don’t really like either picture, but at least in the first, you know the branch is there. The second one is a chaotic mess. Both were f4, 1/15 sec.
And that’s waterfalls for now.
The next group of shots are also from this park, but taken as I hiked away from the falls (and the other, noisy hikers).
But when I really think about it, it’s not things so much as people. My daughter, for one, is my biggest energy booster. She gives me energy as much as she saps it . She makes me laugh with the most ridiculous, funny things, asks the strangest questions and loves teaching me drawing and painting. (Not to forget, she also uses me as her personal canvas.)
We do silly dances together, or rather, I do silly dances. She’s the one with the actual moves. Yesterday she again tried teaching me a few, but with me it turned into some kind of decapitated robot situation .
I’ve realized these times with her are more than just bonding or memory-making. They’re refreshing and life-giving. For a while, the weight I carry disappears, so do the worries, even the aches. And then there are those random hugs of hers… now those are pure energy.
Talking to the right people also peps me up. It warms my heart, puts a spring in my step. There are some people you just enjoy talking with – it doesn’t have to be about anything important, but those connections brighten the day. And then, there are days when you need the hard, heart-deep conversations. I’m grateful for the one or two friends who keep showing up for those.
Sometimes even small things help, like stepping outside and letting the sun hit my face, or hearing a song I love at just the right moment. A walk, a breeze, a little bit of quiet, it’s surprising how much energy they give when you actually pause to notice.
In the end, I guess my energy comes from a mix of people, moments and laughter… and okay fine, let’s not forget coffee, because without that, none of the rest is happening.
यह ग़ज़ल अधूरी मोहब्बत के दर्द और तड़प को बहुत ही खूबसूरती से बयां करती है। इसमें प्यार की ख़ुशबू से लेकर तन्हाई की वीरानी तक की भावनाओं का सफ़र है।
ग़ज़ल बताती है कि हर मोहब्बत मुक़म्मल नहीं होती, फिर भी अधूरी कहानियाँ अपनी गहराई और एहसास से अमर हो जाती हैं। यह अधूरी मोहब्बत की वेदना, यादों और इंतजार की पीड़ा को संवेदनशीलता से उजागर करती है।
मोहब्बत की अधूरी कहानी
कभी तेरे साथ थी खुशबुओं की रवानी, अब हर तरफ है तनहाइ और वीरानी।
तेरी यादों का सितारा सजता है आँखों में, मेरे ख्वाबों में है वही अकश जानी पहचानी ।
चाँद भी आज तन्हा लग रहा है फिज़ाओं में, तुम्हारे आने की खुशबू फैली है हवाओं में ।
मेरी धड़कन तेरी तलाश में भटकती रहती है, और मैं गिर गया हूँ खुद अपनी निगाहों में
आज मेरी मंज़िल मुझसे दूर जा रही है , तेरा साथ था तो मुकम्मल थी मेरी जवानी।
कुछ मोहब्बत मुक़द्दर में पूरी नहीं होतीं, पर अधूरी रहकर भी बन जाती हैं कहानी।
When I just focus all my senses, I’m totally absorbed with all the living things around me, from animals, plants, trees, and people. They give me energy and joy.
I was passing by my neighbor’s backyard, and I saw this pig. She brought a smile to my face.
Nice swimming
Then, I walked early in the morning and saw these chickens, who start finding food early, too.
At 5am
And I noticed this slow-crawling creature in our backyard that is just fascinating, thinking that the world has them, which we can enjoy.
And I just want to show the trees swaying in the windy and sunny day today. I love it.
All these living things are free to see in my space, and I’m so grateful for it. The world is beautiful, exactly!
My family and all these things I’ve mentioned are a joy to me. Thank you so much for your continuous love and support, my amazing readers. It’s Sunday, and I will spend my time with them, so I’m going to catch up with you on weekdays. Stay amazing and enjoy your weekend!
I hope this message finds you surrounded by peace and possibility. Today, I invite you to consider a deceptively simple question, one that holds the potential to quietly reshape your tomorrow: “What is your number one priority?”
At first glance, it might seem like a typical productivity prompt—the kind we encounter in planners or motivational talks.
Yet, beneath its surface lies something profound. This question is not about ticking off boxes; it’s an invitation to clarity and intentional living. In a world that tempts us to chase a thousand things at once, clarity is gold.
More Than Just Another Day
Tomorrow isn’t just another square on the calendar. It’s a pristine canvas, free from yesterday’s scribbles and tomorrow’s worries.
The choices made here, in these gentle margins before the day unfolds, shape more than schedules—they shape meaning.
By intending our focus, we step into the day as artists, not just as managers of time, but as creators of significance.
Why Single-Tasking Wins Over Multitasking
Modern life endlessly buzzes with “urgent” notifications and demands, each clamoring to become our top priority.
We flatter ourselves with the idea that multitasking is efficient, but science reliably tells us otherwise.
The mind, at its best, is beautifully single-minded; when we scatter our attention, we fragment both our energy and creativity. Real growth and satisfaction are born not from busyness, but from focus.
Imagine a lighthouse steering ships through the fog. That is what a clear priority does for our days—it guides us through the noise, helping us steer by our own North Star.
Purpose Beyond Productivity
Yet, let’s remember: the priority that matters most isn’t always about achievement. It isn’t always a professional milestone or a looming deadline.
Sometimes, the most crucial thing is deeply personal: sharing laughter with a loved one, walking beneath open skies, or daring to start that creative project calling from your heart.
Often, these priorities reflect not what the world expects, but what truly matters to us.
A single conscious choice can nourish relationships, restore our spirits, or bring our long-held dreams to life. Our #1 priority acts as a mirror, revealing what we cherish at our core.
Clarity Brings Calm
When the world feels overwhelming and decisions multiply, a clear priority acts as an anchor. Uncertainty fades as we focus our time and energy on what we’ve chosen. Procrastination loses its grip, replaced by purpose.
Even when life throws us surprises, our priority serves as a gentle compass—we may bend, but we don’t break our path.
Discovering What Matters Most
How do we choose that “one thing” each day? It helps to pause, take a breath, and simply ask: “If I could do just one thing tomorrow that truly matters, what would it be?”
No lists, no pressure. Just a deep, honest moment with yourself. Trust that answer, however ordinary or bold it seems.
Over time, you’ll notice the patterns—what you consistently place first reflects your deeper values. Maybe it’s growth, kindness, health, or creativity.
As you honor those trends, you live more in harmony with your authentic self.
The Ripple Effect of Intentional Days
To prioritize is not to shrink your potential, but to channel it. Each focused day is a brushstroke on the bigger canvas of your life. Small choices, repeated with care, become weeks and months rich with progress and contentment.
The real transformation seldom happens in dramatic leaps, but in the quiet, consistent power of doing what matters—again and again.
Your Invitation Tonight
So tonight, as you ready yourself for rest, pause just a moment. Ask yourself, “What will make tomorrow truly meaningful for me?”
Let this intention guide your morning, your actions, and even the way you see the world. One day at a time, this small ritual can illuminate not just your to-do list, but your whole way of living.
Because life isn’t about filling every hour—it’s about filling each day with purpose. That, after all, is the quiet secret to turning ordinary tomorrows into extraordinary days.
What’s your #1 priority for tomorrow? Let it be your lighthouse. Choose wisely, live deeply, and watch how even the simplest day can shine with meaning.
We grow up with such an idealistic view on how our life should be; love, friendships, a career or even the place we will live only to age and realise none of it is what you expected and reality is a little disheartening, when you’ve reached that realisation; you have learnt the gift of all, any new beginning can start now and if you want anything bad enough you’ll find the courage to pursue it with all you have. The past doesn’t have to be the future, stop making it so.
~Nikki Rowe, Once a Girl, Now a Woman
“The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it.” ~Henry David Thoreau
Somewhere back home. Music: Alive Musician: @iksonmusic
Probably off the top of my head I’d say Hell Freezes Over by Eagles.
A very close second would be ABBA Gold or Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors.
This was music that seemed a huge part of my life in my teen years and really left an imprint.
Currently I’m hooked on Broken Window Serenade by Whiskey Myers, Cordelia got me hooked on this sad song. She first played it as we were driving to Alberta in August to go see Aunty Janice. I think the song mixed with the scenery of rolling hills, farms, ranches, and oil rigs scattered everywhere, lent to my slight obsession of the song. We listened to it over ‘n over.
I don’t know who Whiskey Myers is or what else he sings. Not sure how popular he is but if you are at all into country music, (if you asked me I’d say no, I’m not really) please take a listen to this song.
pics from my walk with Sue this morningRemiThe blue sky!
Another Saturday after a weird week. I cannot think of an album nor do I feel like writing. But Another Brick In The Wall pops up as I scroll for a few laughs. I’d say the children are doing okay with their education . That’s why we don’t need no education.
Our assistant principal called in one of my underperforming Intro to Spanish pupils to ask why he was having trouble with the subject. “I don’t know. I just don’t understand Ms. Behr,” the boy said. “It’s like she’s speaking another language.”
For Columbus Day, I assigned my third-grade class the task of drawing one of Columbus’s three ships. I had no sooner sat down when a boy came up with his paper, which had a lone dot in the middle. “What’s that?” I asked. He replied, “That’s Columbus, way out to sea.”
As I welcomed my first-grade students into the classroom, one little girl noticed my polka-dot blouse and paid me the ultimate first-grade compliment: “Oh, you look so beautiful—just like a clown.”
“I got called the g word,” sobbed a third-grade girl. “OK. Let’s calm down,” I said, kneeling beside her. “Now, exactly what were you called?” Between sobs she blurted, “G … g … jerk!”
When one girl had finished the English portion of the state exam, she removed her glasses and started the math questions. “Why aren’t you wearing your glasses?” she was asked. She responded, “My glasses are for reading, not math.”
After a day of listening to my eighth graders exchange gossip, I decided to quote Mark Twain to them: “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.” After considering my words, one of my students asked, “What does it mean to remove all doubt?”
During my eighth-grade sex education class, no one could answer the question “What happens to a young woman during puberty?” So I rephrased it: “What happens to young women as they mature?” One student answered: “They start to carry a purse.”
Teacher: What is an evangelist? Student: Someone who plays the evangelo. Teacher: Why can’t freshwater fish live in salt water? Student: The salt would give them high blood pressure. Teacher: Mira went to the library at 5:15 and left at 6:45. How long was Mira at the library? Student: Not long. Teacher: What do we call a group of stars that makes an imaginary picture in the sky? Student: A consternation. Teacher: List up to five good facts about Abraham Lincoln. Student: After the war ended, Lincoln took his wife to a show.
Just before the final exam in my college finance class, a less-than-stellar student approached me. “Can you tell me what grade I would need to get on the exam to pass the course?” he asked. I gave him the bad news. “The exam is worth 100 points. You would need 113 points to earn a D.” “OK,” he said. “And how many points would I need to get a C?”
For Martin Luther King Day, I asked my fifth graders how they’d make the world a better place. One said, “I’d make potato skins a main dish rather than an appetizer.”
Gauging from these exam excerpts, my college dance students had better stick with pliés. • “The costumes were vindictive of the style of dance.” • “I commend Bill T. Jones for his acts of true kindness and selfishness.” • “Dancers must have long limps.” • “At first, I had a hard time understanding and interrupting his movement.” • “Savion Glover’s purpose is to cross all racial and ethical barriers with his dance.”
To my German-language students, I’m “Frau Draper.” One girl gave me a pin she’d made with my name on it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t big enough to include my entire name, which meant that she presented me with a badge that read FRAUD.
I recently asked a student where his homework was. He replied, “It’s still in my pencil.”
During the driver’s ed class that I teach, a student approached a right turn. “Use your turn signal,” I reminded her. “No one’s coming,” said the student. “It doesn’t matter. It might help those behind you.” Chastened, the student turned around to the students in the backseat and said, “I’m turning right up ahead.”
“Who discovered Pikes Peak?” I asked an eighth grader. He shrugged. “All right, here’s a hint,” I continued. “Who’s buried in Grant’s Tomb?” “Grant?” he asked tentatively. “Good. Now, who discovered Pikes Peak?” “Grant!”
During snack time, a kindergartner asked why some raisins were yellow while others were black. I didn’t know the answer, so I asked my friend, a first-grade teacher, if she knew. “Yellow raisins are made from green grapes, and black raisins are made from red grapes,” she explained. One little boy suggested, “Maybe that’s why she teaches first grade, because she’s just a little bit smarter than you.”
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and inspired mood. Recently, I came across an engaging writing prompt: “List three jobs you’d consider pursuing if money didn’t matter.”
At first glance, it felt like a harmless daydream, but the more I reflected, the more I realised how revealing this question is.
It peels back layers of routine and security, inviting us to look at what truly lights us up when paychecks and promotions aren’t the point.
Money is undeniably important — it buys comfort, stability, and the means to support people we love.
Yet, if we momentarily set finances aside, a new landscape appears: one where curiosity, meaning, and contribution steer our choices.
After some soul-searching, here are the three roles that make my heart race.
1⃣ Wildlife Conservationist,
Since childhood, I’ve felt a quiet awe whenever I’ve stood in the presence of animals.
Watching a herd of elephants meander across a grassland or seeing a sea turtle nestle her eggs in warm sand evokes a sense of reverence for life’s fragile brilliance.
If money were no barrier, I would happily spend my days as a wildlife conservationist.
This job offers more than just fieldwork among extraordinary species.
It’s a chance to heal the fractures humans have caused in ecosystems — to research endangered populations, restore habitats, and advocate for policies that keep forests, wetlands, and coral reefs alive for generations.
Conservationists combine science with storytelling, helping people see that saving biodiversity isn’t a luxury but a necessity for a balanced planet.
The satisfaction of releasing a rehabilitated bird back into the sky or watching mangroves you planted shelter baby fish would be payment enough.
And let’s be honest — wearing khaki and saying things like “We need to protect this delicate ecosystem” feels very heroic.
2⃣ Travel Writer and Cultural Storyteller
The written word has always been my favourite passport.
Through books and blogs, I’ve roamed the streets of Istanbul, trekked through Patagonia, and tasted street food in Bangkok — all without leaving my chair.
To merge that love of writing with real exploration feels like the ultimate adventure.
As a travel writer, I would immerse myself in unfamiliar landscapes, meet artisans guarding centuries-old traditions, and capture the sensory details that make a place pulse with life.
The smoky aroma of spices in a Marrakech market, the crisp hush of snow on a Himalayan trail.
Beyond picturesque descriptions, I’d aim to highlight the stories behind the sights — the resilience of local communities, the delicate dance between tourism and sustainability, the lessons different cultures can teach us about kindness and belonging.
It’s not just about ticking off countries; It’s about being a respectful bridge between worlds. In sharing authentic narratives, a travel writer invites readers to care for places they may never visit and to cherish the mosaic of humanity.
Travel writing is ultimately about connection: showing how we are different yet bound by the same hunger for meaning and belonging.
3⃣ Teacher of Lifelong Curiosity
Teaching may seem ordinary compared to trekking through jungles or globe-trotting with a notebook, but to me it is nothing short of magic.
Teachers plant seeds of wonder in minds that are still deciding who they will become. If finances didn’t dictate career choices,
I’d devote myself to helping people — young or old — discover the thrill of learning.
I imagine a classroom without rigid walls, where lessons stretch from libraries to community gardens, from art studios to stargazing nights.
Whether guiding children through literature, leading workshops on creative problem-solving, or helping adults rediscover the joy of knowledge, the heart of the job is encouragement.
Few things are more rewarding than witnessing someone’s eyes light up as they grasp a new concept or unearth a hidden talent.
Teaching shapes futures, but it also continually reshapes the teacher, reminding them how boundless curiosity can be.
Besides, teaching keeps you humble. There’s nothing like a five-year-old asking why the sky is blue and why cats don’t wear shoes to remind you how much there is still to learn.
Why This Prompt Matters
Answering this question isn’t only a pleasant diversion; It’s a compass pointing toward values we might sideline in the rush for security.
My three dream jobs share a theme: they revolve around connection — to nature, to people, to the wellspring of curiosity within us.
They remind me that fulfilment often arises from service, creativity, and stewardship rather than mere acquisition.
Of course, not everyone can simply abandon their livelihood to chase passions. Yet reflecting on what we’d pursue if money didn’t matter can subtly recalibrate our choices.
Maybe it nudges us to volunteer at an animal shelter, start a travel journal, or mentor a neighbour’s child. Even small steps carve pathways toward a richer life.
So, dear friends, I invite you to pause and ask yourself the same: if financial constraints disappeared, what work would you leap out of bed to do? Your answers might surprise you — and they might quietly guide you to infuse more purpose into the life you already lead.
Until next time, may we all nurture dreams that whisper of freedom and joy, and may we find ways, however modest, to let those dreams breathe in our everyday world.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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The crows stalking me when I walk the dog are starting to bully each other over the peanuts.
I provide a steady supply so they won’t feel like this is a scarce resource, but they’ll puff up and charge each other and race to a peanut another crow is edging towards.
And here I thought the crows lived in harmony with each other.
And she fades into the sunset – no, even beyond the sunset, where the sun cannot pierce with its blinding light, where storms cannot reach her, though she can still hear thunder’s roar.
Where hearts do not bleed and minds do not clutter, where she found the freedom to simply be – unbound by norms and society, liberated even from herself.
The last of the photos from my Fuji Acros II roll.
Well, not the last of them.
I’ve got a bunch of self-portraits, but I’m not sharing those.
Not even the good one.
Instead, back to waterfalls.
No identifying marks that would lead back to me waterfalls.
Well, one waterfall, photographed many times, taken with my Pentax K1000 and 100mm f4 macro lens.
The scene was picturesque.
And shady.
Which meant I could take long exposures without a filter.
My goal: a shot of flowing water that looks smooth, ethereal, and fog-like.
Shot with a tripod (of course). f4, 1 sec.
Same exposure time, but stepped down one stop. f5.6, 1 sec. Of these four images, probably the most balanced exposure. But the water in the pool still looks rough and ripple-y…
Went for a longer exposure here, and to account for film reciprocity, used the old t’=t^1.31 seconds (IYKYK). I guessed 1.31, since most B&W films I’ve looked into appear to use it. My phone coverage was non-existent and I didn’t have the film box, so I couldn’t check. f8, 6sec. Not a bad guess.
And my longest exposure on this roll, again using t’=t^1.31. f16, 38sec. I should have gone a bit longer. Strangely enough, I’ve just looked up the reciprocity characteristics for this film, and supposedly no exposure time adjustments are needed for up to 120 seconds. So now I have no idea how these last two pictures came out at all…
The difference amongst these photos, what best shows what I’m aiming for, is the pool at the bottom.
Which topics would you like to be more informed about?
There are many topics to think of. But today, foremost in my mind is a relatively simple and overlooked one.
How to be a decent human being. Scrap that, how to be a human being. I figure once we learn to be humans first, the decent and every other value will follow. And I’ll leave it at that.
What I’d like to understand more is the journey into oneself. As living beings, we are dynamic, constantly moving and changing. Life is made up of stages. With every stage we evolve, not just physically but mentally and emotionally too.
As we grow, we go through what I think of as a shedding, letting go of our old selves. But letting go is not easy. These are parts of you; you’ve grown up in them. They shaped your choices, your path, your life. Growth means seeing the parts of yourself that are no longer you, yet noticing how they still cling, still define. Letting go feels like peeling away your skin. Painful. Raw.
The old you feels uncomfortable, like clothes that no longer fit. You know you won’t wear them again, yet you hesitate to throw them out. Shedding is natural, but never painless. The old whispers. It shapes habits. It lingers. And with it comes fear, the fear of emptiness. If I let this go, who am I then? What will remain?
It is tempting to hold on because the old is familiar. Safe, though suffocating. The danger lies in thinking letting go means erasing your identity, pretending that wasn’t you. But it was you. And always will be.
Yet shedding is not discarding. You cannot throw away the memories, the lessons, the pieces of you that carried you this far. Instead, you honor them. You acknowledge their place in your journey. Then you release them, letting them become part of the soil that nourishes the new roots of who you are becoming.
Letting go is rarely an instant act. It is a journey. It takes patience, courage and tenderness. Sometimes all we can do is loosen our grip, slowly, and whisper: thank you, for the lessons, for the memories, for carrying me until now. But I cannot carry you any further.
“Life may test us with thorns and storms, but a smile has the power to heal, inspire, and turn darkness into light.
Through patience and hope, even tears can bloom into dreams bright and beautiful.”
# The Power of a Smile #
The road of life holds thorns untold, With riddles scattered, fierce and bold. Storms may roar, shadows may stay, Yet hope arises to guard my way.
A gentle laugh can heal the pain, A tender smile can mend again. In darkest nights, if light we find, The weight of sorrow leaves behind.
Why hide grief in a trembling heart, When a spark of joy can play its part? If we must live through trials each mile, Then why not walk with a glowing smile?
The journey shines with grace and peace, When faith in steps begins to increase. With patience steady and hope in sight, Even tears can bloom into dreams so bright.
New Daily Prompt: Have you ever befriended an element of nature? How?
I don’t know if they consider me a friend, but I’ve convinced one or two crows to visit me in the backyard every morning and evening.
Because I leave peanuts out for them.
And an alarming number of crows have taking to … awaiting me … at a certain point along the route I walk the dog in the morning.
Because I toss peanuts out for them.
And then some of that alarming number, not content with just the two to three whole, unshelled peanuts they’ve somehow managed to cram into their beaks, stalk me for the rest of the walk.
Flitting from tree branch to light post to power line.
Staring at me.
Sometimes cawing … expectantly.
I’ve taken to carrying a lot of peanuts with me on these walks.
I hope this blog finds everyone in a cheerful and inspired mood.
Today’s writing prompt—“What’s the trait you value most about yourself?”—made me pause and reflect on the qualities that shape my journey.
After considering many possibilities, one trait shines the brightest for me: creativity.
Why Creativity?
For me, creativity goes far beyond painting a canvas or composing a song.
It’s the ability to approach life with imagination, to see possibilities where others see obstacles, and to craft meaning from simple things.
Creativity is my quiet companion, always nudging me to experiment, innovate, and express feelings in fresh ways.
This trait adds color to everyday moments. Whether I’m solving a tricky problem at work, decorating a corner of my home, or writing words to capture an emotion, creativity whispers, “Try a new angle—there’s another way.” That feeling of freedom is what I truly treasure.
Lessons From Experience
Looking back, creativity has been present at every turn. In school, it transformed ordinary projects into stories and models that made learning fun.
Later, in my professional life, it helped me tackle challenges by designing alternative solutions instead of focusing on roadblocks.
I remember a time when a major task at work seemed impossible due to limited resources. Rather than giving in to frustration, I sketched out an unconventional plan, using what we had in innovative ways.
The result not only succeeded but set a new standard for efficiency, proving that creativity isn’t a luxury—it’s a survival skill that opens doors where none seemed to exist.
Creativity as Healing
During times of personal hardship, creativity has offered a healing experience.
When my mood dipped, self-expression through journaling, poetry, sketching, painting, photography, or crafting helped me process emotions and rediscover hope.
Each creative act felt like a gentle hand guiding me back towards light. I love sketching and painting—these practices bring me immense peace and joy.
The Ripple Effect
Valuing creativity enriches not only my life but also the lives of those around me.
Friends often approach me when they’re stuck in a rut, and I love brainstorming with them—whether designing a small celebration, reinventing a workspace, or crafting a heartfelt “thank you.” Seeing others discover new solutions fills me with joy.
Creativity also nurtures empathy. When we craft—be it a poem, a story, or a tour plan—we imagine other viewpoints and needs.
This mindset fosters patience and openness, deepening connections beyond surface conversations.
Creativity and Playfulness
Another reason I treasure creativity is its connection to playfulness. Seniors like me sometimes forget the simple joy of experimenting without fear of failure.
Creativity revives that childlike spirit, encouraging risks, laughter at mistakes, and seeing setbacks as opportunities rather than defeats.
Even mundane chores become enjoyable when seen through a creative lens.
On occasion, cooking breakfast or dinner turns into a flavor experiment; tidying up leads to unexpected décor tweaks.
These small sparks of invention make life vibrant—a reminder that grand achievements aren’t required to feel truly alive.
Celebrating Creativity
Creativity transforms how I navigate the world. It fuels curiosity, strengthens resilience, and deepens relationships. It’s taught me that self-expression isn’t about perfection—it’s about authenticity.
Honoring creativity means embracing imperfection. Not every idea will work, and not every attempt will be applauded, but each effort is a victory in itself.
Creativity thrives on courage: the bravery to imagine, to build, and to begin anew when necessary.
An Invitation to You
As you read this, consider the role creativity plays in your own life.
Maybe it shows up in how you organize your garden, tell bedtime stories, solve puzzles, or invent new recipes. Perhaps you’ve been meaning to dust off that old guitar or sketchbook.
Give yourself permission to create—not for applause, but for the sheer delight of exploring.
Share your creations with someone who appreciates the spark behind them. Creativity only grows when it is encouraged and shared.
At its heart, creativity is the art of turning imagination into something tangible—something that speaks to the soul and brightens the lives of others.
I value this trait because it keeps me curious, hopeful, and alive to the endless possibilities in every moment.
What about you? Which trait do you cherish most, and how has it helped you craft your own story?
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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My reliance on music has ebbed and flowed over the years. Depending on what I had going on in my life, it was either all important or it sat on the sidelines.
Currently, it’s sitting on the sidelines. My days are full. Full of being a Mom. The background noise is Sid’s chatter, TV shows like Peppa Pig and Bluey, or the vacuum.
Since I’ve started walking to work I don’t even have that four minute commute to listen to a song and a half or so. And I’m okay with that.
There have been times when music was all around me and completely filled all silences. Those times will come around again and too soon.
So for now, I’ll take advantage of the opportunity to run to the grocery store alone, which means I can listen to a few songs of my choosing. It’ll have to do for now.
There’s nothing quite like nearly choking to death on soggy Rice Chex while feeling sorry about the terrible state of your life to make you appreciate your life again.
Thisis a reflective poem about hope, resilience, and the enduring light within every soul.
It reminds us to embrace life’s moments, navigate challenges with grace, and let kindness guide our journey.
Whisper of the Dawn
In the quiet of the morning light, Dreams awaken from the night. Hope whispers softly, pure and true, A gentle path unfolds for you.
The world may rush, the winds may roar, Yet hearts can sail to distant shore. Through joy, through pain, through tears we see, Life’s endless song of what can be.
So hold each moment, cherish the day, Let kindness gently guide your way. For every soul, both near and far, Shines brightly with its own star.
The antidote to chaos isn’t control but steadiness.
As much as I’d like to answer this prompt, I already did once, Sad & Mad. Without music, life would be dead, for sure. And it is communication 101…I got something else to ponder on today.
My better half sent me another prompt idea. Now, I’m sitting here, pondering, ruminating and racking my brains, figuring out where’s the chaos in my life .
Life is nothing but tiny steps of mess, stumbles and madness wrapped in joy, laughter and tied with a big bow of love. It gives one the false appearance of ‘normal’ and ‘ordinary’ but underneath brims panic, anxiety, storms and shadows. A day can look perfectly calm but scratch a little bit further and you’ll find that it isn’t what it looks like.
What is chaos? Chaos can be simple bad days, seemingly insignificant but likely to throw a wrench in your routine, like the alarm not going off so you’re left scrambling, misplacing things that you actually need for that time or day, the milk curdling . I hate it, since it means waste, washing the dish, having to get a new one, because coffee. It’s the process of repeating the work that puts me off and wasted minutes too, especially when you’re starving. What’s the saying, ‘a hungry man is always angry’ .
But then, there’s the serious, life-altering chaos. These are not things you can brush off and look away. This chaos disrupts your life 360° and you either fold or fight. Chaos isn’t always out there, visible; much of it is internal – the racing thoughts, doubts and what-ifs. And more than anything, this is the chaos that we crave to manage and control.
In any situation we want to dictate the outcome because we want it to be our outcome, not what could follow organically. Control is rigid and resists; it fights the tide. It is impatient and wants immediate results. Grasping for control adds to the chaos, it leads to panic, tension and more conflict. With any situation, when a fire starts, be it our homes or outside, we jump in and try to put it out. But the result is not always what we like or want. I’m not saying one should never put out the fire. But maybe, sometimes things have to burn and die for the new to take root. There are situations where death is welcome, so we can make room for new beginnings. When we take control, we miss out on this opportunity – the opportunity to see the bigger picture, to not be swayed by the present moment, to look further ahead. Perhaps it requires introspection, which leads to awareness and change for the better. With control we are not learning what we must or could learn.
My children are an example. With my teen, I’ve noticed how my urge to control only leads to resistance. The more I push, the less he listens. But when I step back, he rises to the task in his own way. It’s a reminder that control often backfires, while steadiness, patient presence, allows growth to happen.
Remaining steady in the stress and storms of life, first of all, reveals to ourselves who we truly are. Steadiness begins internally. It asks us to slow down, pause, anchor ourselves in our beliefs. We look for stable ground to walk on. Steadiness does not try to silence the chaos. It listens and accepts, mindful of how it chooses to respond instead of reacting. It does not mean inaction, but choosing what matters and what to fight for. It does not have to flail with every gust in the wind. It calls and teaches us to surrender, to trust in the process while simultaneously being shaped by the same storm that is trying to break us. We may not get the ending we want, but steadiness helps us carry ourselves with grace. It teaches us what our posture could be, even when we cannot dictate the outcome.
Moreover, steadiness is not flashy. It is not loud and doesn’t call attention to itself. No one applauds you for being steady. Instead, it makes room for others around you to breathe. It creates space for healing, reconciliation, growth, and new beginnings.
Chaos will always be part of life, in the small, frustrating moments that test our patience and in the storms that upend everything we thought was secure. The instinct to control is strong, but control is brittle; it shatters under pressure. Steadiness, however, bends but does not break. It steadies the heart when the mind spins, anchors us when the ground shifts and gives us the courage to face what we cannot fix or predict.
So yes, the antidote to chaos isn’t control but steadiness. Not the flashy kind that demands attention, but the quiet, grounded steadiness that holds space for life in all its mess and mystery. The kind that whispers: breathe, endure, trust and carry on. And if the milk still curdles tomorrow, well, maybe I’ll just have to drink my coffee black .
Music is always part of my life. I grew up with it because my grandmother and my papa are music lovers. I remember in my childhood that we had this music thing, put a “plaka” in it, and then it turned with a little handle to play the music along. Though I forgot what the specific name of it, it’s still vivid in my memory.
Papa plays music every day while Mama always reminds him of the electricity bill. They’re very opposite, and I think I’m in the middle of it. I love music, but not too loud, and I love a quiet time, too, which Mama prefers.
I’ve uploaded some videos to show which music you like.
It might be a parade with music?
Or a music of nature? Sound great?
Or the unplanned background music in the video?
Let’s see what you like.
Nevertheless, enjoy your Thursday, my amazing readers. Thank you so much for your time. Stay beautiful and kind.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and open to a little journey through memory, tradition, and pride.
Today’s prompt – “What aspects of your cultural heritage are you most proud of or interested in?” – invites us to pause and look inward at the invisible threads that shape who we are.
For me, cultural heritage is not just an abstract concept. It’s the aroma of simmering spices wafting from a family kitchen, the rhythm of a folk song that makes my feet tap without thinking, the stories passed from grandparents whose voices tremble with wisdom.
It’s the comfort of knowing that I belong to a lineage of thinkers, dreamers, and makers who left behind clues about how to live with dignity, joy, and curiosity.
The Power of Storytelling
One of the first treasures I cherish is the storytelling tradition of my community. Long before I ever picked up a book, I was cradled by tales told on moonlit rooftops: epics of courage, parables about honesty, humorous anecdotes about clever village elders.
These stories were not mere entertainment; they were vessels carrying values, ethics, and history.
Today, in an age of streaming videos and instant news, I still return to the oral tradition as a grounding force.
The cadence of a well-told story keeps alive the art of listening and the patience to understand before responding.
Festivals That Celebrate Togetherness
One of the most beautiful aspects of my heritage is the vibrant culture of festivals. Whether it’s Diwali’s sparkling lamps, Holi’s joyful splash of colors, or the grand spectacle of Dussehra (Durga Puja), every celebration carries a story and a heartbeat of its own.
Above all, my heart belongs to Chhath Puja, my most cherished festival. It’s that special time when our family converges from far and wide at our native place, filling the air with laughter, devotion, and anticipation.
Chhath Puja is far more than a ritual; it is a soulful celebration of unity, simplicity, and gratitude. In a world rushing forward at lightning speed, this festival stands as a gentle reminder of our roots, drawing together people across caste, creed, and social divides.
Each year, it’s inspiring to watch more people discover the significance of Chhath Puja — not just as a religious event, but as a cultural phenomenon that upholds timeless values of purity and togetherness.
Festivals like these are the heartbeat of Hindu culture, evolving gracefully through generations while preserving the essence of our traditions.
They invite us to pause, adorn our homes, prepare festive dishes, and open our doors to neighbors and friends. They prove that joy grows exponentially when shared.
What I love most is how devotion and playfulness coexist in these celebrations: lighting diyas while teasing cousins, offering prayers before savoring sweets, or exchanging warm wishes with someone you might not otherwise meet.
In a fragmented world, these moments are gentle rebellions against loneliness — radiant reminders of how connected we truly are.
Culinary Heritage – A Symphony of Flavors
No reflection on cultural pride is complete without mentioning food. From slow-cooked curries to crisp street snacks, from heirloom pickles to fragrant teas, our cuisine is an archive of creativity and resilience.
Recipes travel through generations, sometimes adapting to new ingredients but retaining their soul.
Cooking a traditional dish is like time travel; I can almost see my grandmother measuring spices with her palm, hear the sizzling of tempering seeds, and feel the warmth of family gathered around a table.
It’s an edible connection to the past that nourishes body and spirit alike.
Language and Literature
I’m also deeply fascinated by the languages of my heritage. Each tongue carries its own music, metaphors, and ways of framing thought.
Regional proverbs often contain entire philosophies distilled into a sentence, while classical poetry reveals a sensitivity to nature and human emotion that feels timeless.
Reading or writing in these languages reminds me that words are not just tools; they are custodians of memory. They protect wisdom that might otherwise fade in translation.
Handicrafts and Art
Another source of pride is the craftsmanship embedded in local art forms – from delicate embroidery and block printing to terracotta figurines and intricate rangoli patterns.
These creations are not just decorative; they embody patience, skill, and an understanding of beauty rooted in everyday life.
Supporting artisans and learning even a fraction of their techniques keeps me connected to an aesthetic lineage that predates mass production.
Values That Endure
Beyond tangible expressions, my cultural heritage gifts me enduring values: respect for elders, hospitality towards guests, reverence for nature, and an instinct to seek harmony rather than conflict.
These principles aren’t perfect or frozen in time – they evolve with every generation – but they offer a compass when life feels directionless.
A Living, Breathing Legacy
Most importantly, I’m proud that culture is not a museum exhibit. It is alive, constantly reshaped by conversations, migrations, and innovations.
When I teach a child a folk song, post a traditional recipe online, or blend an old custom with modern sensibilities, I participate in keeping heritage relevant.
Curiosity is key here. Instead of clinging to the past for nostalgia alone, I explore – how its wisdom can meet today’s challenges: – how sustainability hides in ancestral farming techniques, – how empathy shines in ancient philosophies, – how inclusivity thrives when we remember our festivals were designed to bring strangers together.
Our cultural heritage is a quiet superpower. It gives us belonging without demanding uniformity. It anchors us while encouraging us to sail further.
As I write this, I realize that pride in one’s roots is not about shutting out other influences; it’s about standing tall so we can welcome the world with confidence.
So, dear friends, I invite you to look into your own trove of traditions. Which songs, recipes, rituals, or philosophies make you smile with recognition?
Which ones would you love to pass on? By celebrating and sharing them, we ensure that the vibrant mosaic of humanity remains whole — and ever more beautiful.
What is this grace… I keep hearing it spoken aloud like some word people throw around… like a buzzword… something rehearsed but hollow… they say grace that forgives… that reconciles and restores… that brings healing and hope for a world that feels lost, broken… They say it ushers peace, understanding, that it promotes dialogue and discourse… that even with our differences, we can somehow coexist, like we were meant to, in harmony and community… lifting each other up. But I don’t see it. I don’t see any trace of it being lived out. Everywhere I turn there’s hate, disrespect, ignorance… insensitivity on every side… gaslighting… tone-deaf words, words that don’t see… that don’t care…that hurt. Pray, where is this grace that’s supposed to heal hearts… bind wounds… help our reasoning mind think for itself? If it can quench our soul… if it can bring light through the darkest night … then where is it? Because we need it… we need it today.
Even more pictures from that day almost two weeks ago when I announced with great fanfare that I’d “Done it!” and then anticlimactically explained I’d forced myself to take some pictures.
Well, same roll of film, but not the same day.
Today’s post involves pictures taken on my hike a few days later. In this case, macro photos. Some non-macro stuff is coming soon.
Hope you like mold, moss, and fungi!
The film is the discontinued Fuji Acros II 100 that I tried for the first time and discovered is pretty good. Though for some of these shots, the ISO 100 speed was a bit of a disadvantage given the shady nature of the park I was in.
Obviously, given this is the same roll of film and I don’t have a removable back for the camera, these were also taken on my beloved Pentax K1000 with my lovely 100mm f4 macro lens.
Though, in fairness, I could have changed the lens.
But I love it and if I didn’t have other Pentax cameras to use it on, I’d glue it to the K1000!
No extension tube this time round. I was hiking and trying to travel light.
I had to lean against the tree to keep the camera steady. I had a tripod, but I was too lazy to break it out for this shot. Don’t worry, those shots are coming… f4, 1/30sec.
A little more light here, so while I didn’t technically need to hold the camera steady, I still rested the camera against the center of this stump. f4, 1/60sec
I like the second photo more. If I’d been willing to take a longer exposure, or if the film had a higher ISO rating, I could have stopped down and increased the depth of focus of the first shot. And seeing this result, if I had it to do again, I would.
So there. Even the ones I’m not thrilled with have proven their utility by teaching me a lesson.
Baby steps, my friends (and enemy, yes, I know you’re reading this). Baby steps.
This auspicious day, observed on September 17, 2025, pays tribute to Lord Vishwakarma—the divine architect, craftsman, and symbol of creative innovation in Indian tradition.
While many know Vishwakarma Puja as a festival for artisans and industrial workers, its mythological roots and evolving relevance reveal many lesser-known and fascinating aspects.
The Legend of Lord Vishwakarma
Lord Vishwakarma stands apart as the architect of the gods, credited with designing not just celestial weapons like the Vajra (Indra’s thunderbolt) and Trishul (Shiva’s trident), but also legendary cities like Dwarka for Lord Krishna and Hastinapur for the Pandavas.
Scriptures like the Rig Veda and the Sthapatya Veda praise his creative prowess, and he is revered as the world’s first engineer.
His legacy is so influential that every craftsman, engineer, and builder across India treats his name as synonymous with excellence and ingenuity.
The Floating City of Vishwakarma
Among the most captivating legends is that of the mythical floating city crafted by Vishwakarma.
According to ancient stories, this exquisite city was suspended in the sky and so grand that its shadow caused a perpetual eclipse over the earth.
The city eventually vanished, leaving behind only the tale of its brilliance, serving as a testament to the boundless imagination attributed to Lord Vishwakarma.
Vishwakarma in the Mahabharata
Vishwakarma’s signature is evident even in the epic Mahabharata. On the eve of the Kurukshetra war, Krishna advised the Pandavas to conduct a Vishwakarma Puja to bless their war chariots and weaponry, seeking victory with divine intervention.
This ritual, believed to have played a role in their success, links the festival to both mythology and India’s martial heritage.
More Than A Ritual: The Festival of Innovation
Modern Vishwakarma Puja has expanded far beyond its traditional and religious contours.
In today’s age, the festival is marked not only by worship of tools and machinery but also by competitions and exhibits of technological invention.
Schools, colleges, and industries turn the day into a celebration of creativity, asking engineers, inventors, and artisans to present their latest innovations—carrying forward the spirit of progress that Lord Vishwakarma represents.
Regional Flavours and Rituals
Especially celebrated in Bengal, Assam, Odisha, Bihar, and industrial hubs, the festival sees pages of workplaces transformed by vibrant decorations, intricately arranged tools, and communal feasting.
Rural celebrations often involve folk music, storytelling, and local arts that bind the community in pride and gratitude towards their craft and heritage.
Workers refrain from using their tools, clean and worship them, and gather for ritual prayers led by priests.
Hidden Symbolism: The ‘Yantra’
A distinct aspect of Vishwakarma Puja is the worship of the “Yantra”—a sacred geometric design that represents the creative and protective energy of the divine architect.
Drawing and venerating the Yantra symbolizes invoking order in chaos and aligning human endeavor with cosmic creativity.
Vishwakarma Puja’s Deeper Meaning
What truly sets this festival apart is its embrace of the dignity of labor and the oneness of spiritual and material progress.
By worshipping tools, the community blurs the lines between sacred and mundane, declaring every act of creation and work as holy.
The festival reminds people to strive for quality, sustainability, and ethics in their professional lives—a message that holds special relevance in today’s era of rapid technological change.
Honoring the Craft and the Craftsman
Celebrating Vishwakarma Puja is more than just following tradition. It’s a conscious tribute to the unsung architects, builders, engineers, and artisans whose innovation shapes society’s present and future.
Their skills breathe life into ambitions, transforming dreams into reality, just as Lord Vishwakarma once did for gods and mortals.
As India advances on the global stage, festivals like Vishwakarma Puja call upon all to respect and nurture the spirit of craftsmanship, creativity, and honest work— and to salute the timeless legacy of the divine architect who continues to inspire generations.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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“You are my creator, but I am your master.” — Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Repeat prompt. Hijacking.
The season is changing. Although we are still enjoying the monsoon, that does not stop nature from being what it must be. Moreover, my annual visitor has arrived, the usual cold . Sneezing bouts and droopy eyes. I just want to sleep.
My better half sent me Mary Shelley’s quote: “You are my creator, but I am your master.” He believes it makes good writing material. And it is making me think more than I probably need to.
It’s a haunting thought. It provokes you to dig inside yourself and ask: what am I creating every day? And is what I create truly worth the time and energy I pour into it? Does it add enough value or does it slowly consume me?
Whatever we build shapes who we are. At first, we believe we hold the reins. We build, we mold, we design the life we think we want – our routines, ambitions, relationships, habits, beliefs. We tell ourselves: I am in control. But over time, something else happens. What we create begins to take on a life of its own.
The work we obsess over becomes the measure of our worth. The relationships we nurture begin to define how we see and understand ourselves. Do I sometimes lose myself so much that I begin to mirror the other? The goals we chase start dictating our choices, our time, our energy. Even the small daily habits we barely notice – the phone always within reach, the constant need for validation, the compulsion to stay connected, slowly turn into demands we can no longer escape. And when we lose what we’ve built ourselves around, we feel as though we’ve lost our very identity.
What starts as a tool becomes a master.
The monster in Shelley’s story wasn’t evil by nature. It became monstrous through rejection, through the crushing absence of belonging. It built its entire hope on a companion it never received. In the same way, whatever we build, a career, a social image, a relationship, even a mindset, can grow beyond our intentions. It learns our weaknesses, feeds on our fears, magnifies our insecurities and commands our attention.
So the question I face now is simple and terrifying: Am I the master of what I create or has what I create mastered me?
I don’t have to stop building, dreaming or striving. But I must ask:
Does this ambition serve me or am I serving it?
Do these relationships nourish me or are they holding me captive?
Does this habit empower me or is it draining my energy and autonomy?
The monster isn’t outside. It’s within the structures I’ve built. The mastery isn’t imposed – it’s invited.
So I pause, step back and ask myself: What am I creating today – and will it help me live freely, or will it claim ownership of my time, my mind, my spirit?
I hope this blog finds you smiling and feeling light at heart. Today’s writing prompt — “What could you do more of?” — is such an inspiring question.
It invites us to look at life not as a checklist, but as a canvas waiting for more color, more adventure, more meaning.
Let’s explore together what we might welcome more of into our days.
More Gratitude
Gratitude is the sunshine of the soul. It’s easy to rush past the little things — a stranger’s smile, the scent of rain, a warm cup of tea.
But when we pause and truly notice, even ordinary moments become extraordinary.
Try this:…. every evening, write down three things you’re grateful for. Soon, you’ll see how abundance is already woven into your life.
More Learning
Curiosity is a superpower. Learning keeps our minds sharp and our spirits young. You could read a book, join an online class, or pick up a skill you’ve always admired.
Imagine learning to play an instrument, paint a landscape, or cook a dish from a faraway place. Every new lesson stretches us beyond yesterday’s limits.
More Connection
Life’s richest treasures are people. Call an old friend, spend an unrushed afternoon with family, or strike up a friendly chat with a neighbor. Real connection nourishes us like nothing else.
Even a simple message saying, “I’m thinking of you,” can brighten someone’s whole week — and yours too.
More Mindfulness
We often live on autopilot, chasing the next thing. Mindfulness is the gentle art of returning to now. Listen to the birds, notice your breath, taste your coffee slowly.
The more present we are, the more alive we feel — and the calmer we handle life’s storms.
More Kindness
Kindness is never wasted. It softens hard days and makes good ones shine brighter. Hold the elevator for someone, encourage a coworker, or lend an ear to a friend.
The joy of giving — even in the smallest way — is a quiet magic that blesses both giver and receiver.
More Creativity
Creativity is not just for artists; it’s for anyone willing to express themselves. Paint, sing, dance, write, garden, or invent a new recipe. Don’t worry about perfection — the process is where the beauty lies.
Every creative act whispers to the soul: You are alive, you are capable, you are unique.
More Movement
Movement is a celebration of the body. Take a walk at sunrise, stretch, dance in the kitchen, or practice yoga. Even five minutes of intentional movement can refresh the mind and lift the spirit.
More Rest & Reflection
Sometimes “more” means slowing down. A few minutes of quiet, a nap, or sitting under a tree with your thoughts can refill your inner well.
Reflection gives meaning to experience — it helps you understand where you’ve been and where you’re headed.
Balance Is the Key
Of course, we can’t do everything at once. The art lies in choosing the “mores” that truly resonate with you.
Start small, stay kind to yourself, and let those small steps grow into powerful habits.
A Gentle Challenge
As you finish reading, take a deep breath and ask yourself:
“If I added a little more of one beautiful thing to my life today, what would it be?”
Maybe it’s gratitude. Maybe it’s laughter with a loved one. Maybe it’s simply pausing for a slow, mindful breath.
Whatever your answer, take that step. Life becomes richer, brighter, and more fulfilling — one “more” at a time.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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There was this time when I thought I was going to get into decorating cakes using fondant. And not just the fondant you buy in the store, I was learning to make my own.
It’s really fun and pretty amazing, what you can create or replicate with fondant. I was obsessed with watching Youtube videos on how to do it. These bakers made it look so easy.
Making the fondant itself wasn’t the hardest part, although it can be tricky if it’s too sticky. But rolling out and laying the fondant down flat is insanely difficult.
Also, I’ve not an artistic bone in my body so I’m not sure how I thought I could possibly mold 3D characters and shapes out of the fondant. But I tried.
I made an “emoji” themed cake for one of Cordelia’s tween years birthdays. I tried to make a John Deere tractor to put on top of my Dad’s 70th birthday. It turned out okay but did look pretty amateurish. The tractor was made with rice krispy cake and then covered with the green/yellow fondant and set on top of a two layer cake that was meant to look like tractor tires.
I tried.
Eventually gave up. Besides being time consuming it was money consuming to keep buying the marshmallows, icing sugar, etc.
” . . . but the Universe is an awfully big place. There is room enough for an awful lot of people to be right about things and still not agree.” ~~ Kurt Vonnegut, The Sirens of Titan
“There are plenty of good reasons for fighting…but no good reason to ever hate without reservation, to imagine that God Almighty hates with you, too. Where’s evil? It’s that large part of every man that wants to hate without limit, that wants to hate with God on its side. It’s that part of every man that finds all kinds of ugliness so attractive….it’s that part of an imbecile that punishes and vilifies and makes war gladly.” ~~ Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night
Hate often disguises itself as righteousness, making it harder to see the harm it brings. That’s why compassion, patience and empathy are needed more than ever, in a world quick to judge and divided by difference.
Here are some more pictures from that day almost two weeks ago when I announced with great fanfare that I’d done it and then anticlimactically explained I’d forced myself to take some pictures.
Instead of timepieces, this post features a couple shots of a flower.
I know, heady stuff.
The film is the discontinued Fuji Acros II 100 that I’ve found I like (I scored another roll over the weekend), and given it was a bright, sunny day, it was perfectly suited for today’s subject.
So any fault to be found in the photos is due to the camera, not the film.
Just kidding. It’s me. All me.
No tripod this time, as the shutter speeds were just fast enough to handle my shaky hands. I used my trusty Pentax K1000 with my 100mm f4 macro lens.
I’ve added a diopter to my viewfinder so I don’t have to wear my glasses when shooting. It’s the second one, as the first one fell off in a state park a couple years ago (Arrgh!). I used mounting putty to keep this one in place, but I’m still not confident in my ability to focus.
It took me a while to replace it ($30!?), but I’ve been using my phone to photograph my camera settings for shots, and taking my glasses on and off for that was getting old enough that I was willing to part with the money.
$30!?
Given all these vision issues, I’m pleased that the part I wanted to be in focus actually is. With some macro shots, you can’t tell if the intended subject is the one actually in focus.
f5.6, 1/60sec, and all three extension tubes in use. Fortunately, the flower was not only colorful, but contrasty enough to let me get away with B&W.
There was a slight breeze, so the damn flowers kept swaying. Stupid nature. It did, however, lead to different brightness levels for the backgrounds of these two photos. So there’s that… f5.6, 1/60sec, and all three extension tubes in use.
These photos are … OK. I’m finding, even with the extension tubes, that the lens doesn’t magnify enough for my liking, and I think these could have been more interesting if the view had been more microscopic. I may have to look into additional options on that front…
Write about a time you messed up… and laughed about later (or wish you could!)
To answer the cooking prompt, I still stand by this meme, because that’s me! Since it’s another repeat prompt, I don’t want to hunt down a previous post, so here’s my take today. I got the idea with ChatGPT’s help and, of course, twisted it a bit to fit my own story .
I was in 12th grade, with loads of attitude, breezing through life, and convinced I could charm anyone, anywhere – on second thoughts, the last part is debatable. Younger me was boisterous, jovial and friendly; I could hold a conversation with people of any age. I also had a big mouth . More often than not, I’d put my foot where my mouth is, not out of malice, but because I simply didn’t think before I spoke. I was unfiltered, raw and clueless. That hasn’t entirely changed, but I’ve learned to add tact when the situation demands it. Wisdom and maturity occasionally drop by for a visit .
Anyway, back to the mess-up. One afternoon, a bunch of us classmates were sitting outside the canteen, basking in the sun and gossiping. If anyone says they don’t gossip, they’re probably lying . We were having a laugh when I noticed a friend wearing white leather shoes. Back then, white shoes were uncommon, and not everyone could pull them off. Clueless me, ever the tactless joker, made some comment comparing her to an actor who seemed to wear white shoes in every movie. I added my usual commentary and the whole group burst out laughing.
Since it was all in jest, I forgot about it almost immediately. It wasn’t until much later that another friend gently pointed out that my comment might have embarrassed the girl. To say I was clueless would be an understatement, I didn’t even remember the incident! I was stunned. I’d never realized that words carelessly thrown out in fun could make someone uncomfortable.
Interestingly, the friend I joked about never confronted me nor did her attitude toward me change. She knew I joked around a lot and our times together were filled with laughter. Once, she even laughed so hard she accidentally leaked . Apparently, I have the unusual superpower of making people pee unintentionally .
Looking back, I’m grateful to the friend who pointed it out. It’s not easy to tell someone they’ve been tactless, especially in a way that’s gracious and kind. It made me wonder: was she more sensitive? Did she read more into it than I ever intended?
Over the years, I’ve learned that humor is complicated. Not everyone has the stomach for it. Delivery and intent matter. A joke told in fun can easily be misread as deprecating or tasteless. Humor can be twisted to hurt others in the guise of comedy. Today, I reserve my sarcasm and humor for my blog and a handful of friends I trust. When I meet others with a similar sense of humor, it makes me ridiculously happy .
So yes, this was just one of the times I messed up, big time. But looking back, I laugh… or at least wish I could! Because that clueless, tactless, unfiltered version of me taught me something invaluable about words, empathy and the art of making people laugh without making them uncomfortable.
“Tales of Betrayal” is a moving poem about lost love and broken trust. It expresses deep longing, fond memories, and the pain that remains when love turns into sadness.
The poem reflects on betrayal, showing how even the brightest moments can fade away.
# Tales of Betrayal #
O life, my restless eyes still roam, They seek for you, yet find no home. Though many chase your fleeting grace, Without your love, I lose my place.
I’ve wandered through deserted years, With empty hands and silent tears. Your memory lights my shadowed skies, Without your glow, my spirit dies.
I dreamed your love would be my stay, A guiding hand along the way. Through joy and grief, in night and morn, A shelter when my soul was torn.
Your memory burns, both sweet and sore, I reach for warmth but find no more. And who shall hear the tales I keep, Of love betrayed, of wounds too deep?
New Daily Prompt: Have you ever pretended to like someone to get what you wanted? How did you ultimately feel about it?
Just once, but I learned my lesson.
I never liked Santa, that big, glowering bastard who breaks into your home once a year.
In fact, he scared the bejeezus out of me as a kid.
But I really wanted that Red Ryder BB gun, so I paused my screaming, dried my tears, manned up, forced a smile, and climbed onto his lap to ask for one.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood! Today’s writing prompt is intriguing: “What brands do you associate with?”
At first glance, it seems simple — just list your favorite names from the shelves or your screen. But on closer thought, the question is really about identity, memory, and values.
The brands we hold close are often mirrors of who we are, who we aspire to be, or the stories that shaped us.
Beyond Logos and Labels
A brand is much more than a logo or a tagline. It’s a promise, a feeling, an invisible handshake between creator and consumer.
When we say we “associate” with a brand, we’re not only speaking of utility — we’re also talking about emotional resonance.
Why else would people line up for a coffee from a certain café or cherish a pair of worn sneakers long after their shine fades?
Brands that stand the test of time are those that tap into our deeper needs: belonging, adventure, comfort, excellence, or even nostalgia. They become woven into our daily rituals and life’s milestones.
The Brands That Shape My Day
If I were to map out an ordinary day, certain brands naturally step into focus. The morning often begins with a cup of coffee, and for me,
Nescafé or Starbucks represent warmth and a quiet start. Their aroma is more than just caffeine; it’s the smell of potential — a gentle nudge to begin.
Technology dominates much of my routine. My Apple devices — iPhone, iPad, or MacBook — are not just gadgets, but gateways to creativity and connection.
They represent elegance, innovation, and simplicity, reminding me that design and utility can coexist harmoniously.
Even in leisure, brands set the tone. When I pick up a pair of Nike or Adidas shoes for a walk, they speak of vitality and the thrill of motion. And on cozy evenings, Netflix is less a service than an invitation to explore other worlds.
Memories Etched in Brands
Some associations run deeper, rooted in childhood or shared family moments. I remember my grandparents’ timeless Parker pen — a tool, yes, but also a symbol of grace and thoughtfulness.
The familiar red-and-white Amul butter pack instantly transports me to simple breakfasts with hot parathas.
These brands are not just “products” — they are vessels of memory, holding fragments of who we were and the bonds we cherish.
Values Behind the Name
What attracts me to some brands is their ethos. Patagonia represents environmental responsibility, showing that business and sustainability can coexist
Likewise, Tata in India embodies trust and integrity, making its many businesses feel dependable and grounded.
Choosing brands with integrity is not just about status or aesthetics; it’s about aligning purchases with principles.
In today’s world, where conscious consumption is gaining momentum, the brands we associate with can be quiet declarations of what we believe matters.
The Social Side of Brands
Brands also create communities. Fans of Harley-Davidson share a brotherhood of the road; LEGO builders form a tribe of imagination. Even digital platforms like Instagram or LinkedIn are brands that connect us to circles of creativity or professional growth.
Sometimes, we gravitate to a brand because it connects us to people who share our interests and passions. A logo becomes a badge, signalling: “I belong here.”
A Balanced Perspective
Yet, it’s important to remember that while brands can enrich our lives, they don’t define our worth. Association should stem from authenticity, not blind trend-chasing. A brand should enhance your story, not overshadow it.
The most meaningful associations are often personal and understated — like a local café whose staff knows your favorite order, or an artisan’s craft that carries heart and heritage.
My final submission
Answering “What brands do you associate with?” is really about charting the tapestry of your experiences, tastes, and aspirations.
From the first sip of morning coffee to the tools that enable creativity, from heirlooms to cutting-edge tech, brands become silent companions on our journey.
So next time you reach for a familiar product, pause for a moment. Ask yourself: why this brand?
Perhaps it’s not just utility but also a reflection of your inner landscape — the comfort you seek, the causes you champion, or the memories you treasure.
Brands, at their best, are not just commercial entities. They are storytellers, memory-keepers, and quiet partners in our pursuit of meaning.
And in discovering which ones you truly associate with, you might just discover a little more about yourself.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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⁰Have you ever wondered about mob violence and why people do what they do? Yeah, my mind has been ruminating on the Nepal uprising and the devastating events that unfolded. Seats of power like the Parliament and Supreme Court, official residences, and even hotels were burnt down. But more than that, what has been weighing on my mind is the death of innocent people, a more glaring one being the death of the former PM’s wife. She was trapped in her own home. A home, which is supposed to be a sanctuary, a place of safety. Every loss of life in this uprising was a travesty and a tragedy.
Like any incident that involves the public, I’ve often wondered why the mob would vandalize and destroy public property. What does burning and destroying vehicles and property achieve except fuel the anger, rage, and resentment? What perplexes me more is when they target people – innocent people. What we have to remember is that these so-called ‘attackers’ are ordinary people. They are husbands, fathers, brothers, sons, and all that. It’s not as if they woke up that morning and decided they’d vandalize property and injure a fellow human being. They would have gone as protesters, not thinking of involving themselves in maiming or taking a life. That is what I’d like to believe.
I’ve seen this happen more than once in different parts of our country. I recall the uprising in my own home state. I was in 7th grade when an entire family was wiped out in the blink of an eye. I remembered thinking at that time how wrong it was and feeling an unease that stayed with me. That incident is etched in my subconscious. In a nation as diverse as ours, we have witnessed more than our share of mob violence, each one more barbaric than the previous. It does not take much to inflame sentiment, does it?
What makes people act in such a brutal and barbaric way? How riled are the emotions that one cannot fathom injuring and taking a life? I wonder about this herd mentality. On an individual level, a normal person wouldn’t entertain the idea of hurting another. I know tempers can rise, but one still has the voice of reason. What happens to reason in a crowd? I understand that in the heat of the moment, emotions are magnified. But isn’t there one sane voice that could question the actions? Realistically though, who would listen to sanity?
How does the herd mentality work? It takes a single voice to speak up and the crowd follows. If this works for violence and cruelty, how come we don’t see the same results when there’s a voice of sanity and reason speaking up? Is it because our conscience shuts down when we allow negative emotions to take over? I have plenty of questions around this topic.
This is what I cannot fathom. First of all, to act with such brutality and then to return home to your own family. What do they feel when they return home? Or after the violence fades, what happens? Do they reflect on their actions? They have taken a life. Their hands may not have literally killed the person, but they were part of it. Do they feel guilty? Do they think they’ve done something atrociously wrong, committed a crime? Do they feel remorse? Do they feel fear? Knowing they were somehow involved, blood on their hands, does denial become their shield? Or do they just go back to a normal life? Some may suppress the ache of conscience, unable to face the truth, while others push it deep inside to cope with the unbearable weight of what they’ve witnessed or caused. I wonder if their actions haunt them. Do they sleep well, knowing what they’ve done?
Perhaps at the heart of this dilemma is something far deeper than politics or power, it’s about the heart itself. The heart is where compassion, empathy, and conscience reside, where we feel the pain of others and question our own actions. But when fear, helplessness, or anger become too overwhelming, that heart is drowned out. It becomes easier to dehumanize others and justify actions one would never consider doing alone. It’s not that people lose it entirely, it’s that louder emotions block it from being heard.
Sometimes people get caught in a cycle where loneliness, despair, or frustration drive them to seek belonging. The crowd offers that sense of purpose, and fear of standing alone silences the voice of reason. Even those who feel doubt may suppress it out of fear of isolation or rejection. It’s hard to ignore how certain powers exploit this sense of hopelessness to push their own agendas. What’s tragic is that the heart knows, it’s just starved of connection and hope, drowned in noise.
If this is true, then the answer may not lie in punishment alone. Healing the heart requires restoring hope, empathy, trust, and empowerment. We need spaces where people are heard before they are driven to despair, where compassion is nurtured rather than ignored. It’s about teaching kindness as much as courage, and remembering that violence doesn’t spring from monsters, it comes from ordinary people whose hearts have been starved of purpose, understanding, and hope.
In the end, the question isn’t just about how people lose control, it’s about how we can help them find their heart again, so that empathy, not rage, becomes their guiding force. As the quote says, “The heart of the issue is the issue of the heart.”
This post’s pictures are from that day almost two weeks ago when I announced with great fanfare that I’d done it and then anticlimactically explained I’d forced myself to take some pictures.
These are not inspired but ‘perspired’ photos.
And given my sense of guilt that my inaction was wasting time, I decided to attempt some macro photos of timepieces.
The only timepiece of note is the Timex, which belonged to my grandfather.
It’s taken a lickin’ but is definitely still tickin’.
The film is Fuji Acros II 100, a discontinued film that, now in limited supply, I actually find I like. Good latitude, perfect for slow exposure moments, and its days of being available are, because the Universe hates me, numbered.
(It’s not so great for later pictures I took, where the locale didn’t always have sufficient light. But that’s a post for another time.)
All photos shot with a tripod on my Pentax K1000 with my 100mm f4 macro lens. It’s quickly becoming my favorite new prime lens!
First, an unremarkable group shot showing all three pieces in focus. To set the stage, as it were. This photo was taken in shade and I forgot to record the exposure settings, but I like the contrast…
Me struggling to find an interesting way to compose this image. f9.5, 1sec, taken in direct sunlight.
This ended up being the most interesting approach I could come up with. f4, 1/15sec, using (all three rings of) my extension tube.
And this was me trying to get more of the watch in focus. f16, 1sec, using (all three rings of) my extension tube. I expected to see motion blur with the second hand, but sadly, the second hand doesn’t sweep so much as jump from second to second. So for most of the exposure, it wasn’t moving.
I’m not particularly happy with any of these photos, but I am still learning and it’s good to study your mistakes so you can avoid them in future. I think using these particular timepieces may have been more interesting if I could have gotten much closer to them (add more macro!). But this was the most I could do without buying another lens and/or additional rings for the extension tube.
On the plus side, unlike earlier experiments with the 100mm lens on my Pentax K10D, the TTL light metering does work on the K1000. The digital camera consistently came in too low.
If you got a chance to dress up and play a superhero, would you be Batman or Robin?
Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain, telling me just what a fool I’ve been… it’s been raining non-stop since last night. The weather is moody.
Repeat prompt, thoughts from previous year have not changed. Thankfully, the brain did not have to exercise, my better half did that .
According to the question, Batman is cool, serious and with all the gadgets. Robin, on the other hand is quick, a cheeky sidekick with endless energy.
This is a no-brainer for me, I’d choose Robin anytime! Me? mysterious and serious. Even the bad guys will burst out laughing. And gadgets? I barely handle my phone properly, I’m pretty sure any high-tech gear would melt in my hands!
I feel like I relate to him more. He’s lively, fun, and charming in his own quirky way. Plus, he has great comebacks. Seriously, someone’s got to keep Batman from turning into a full-time brooding statue. I mean, how long can you sit in the Batcave with a serious face before you start scaring the bats away?
Robin’s sense of humor is exactly what every dark, moody hero needs. Lighthearted moments are required in tense situations, and Robin delivers them like clockwork. While Batman’s all about gadgets and grim stares, Robin’s the guy coming up with quirky ideas, like, “What if we throw glitter at them?” while Batman’s rolling his eyes.
Let’s be honest: gadgets can only do so much. Someone’s got to spice up the operation and crack jokes mid-fight. Someone’s got to show the Joker how to joke. It’s not that Batman can’t handle the fight, it’s just that a little humor keeps morale up and the team from turning into stone statues.
Robin is also fiercely loyal and trustworthy. He believes in justice so much that he probably wouldn’t sit still for a second. He’d be out there punching crime with a grin, because obviously, one cannot fight evil while sitting down, right?
And while he’s clever and quick-witted, it’s not all sass for the sake of it. He’s genuinely empathetic and connects with people in ways Batman can’t. Batman might brood and look like he’s calculating world domination plans, while Robin is out making friends, cracking jokes and offering tissues to those in distress. Someone’s gotta do it!
What I love most is that Robin’s not perfect, and that’s what makes him relatable. He’s well-trained, disciplined and determined, but he’s always learning, always growing. It’s inspiring because it says, “You don’t have to be flawless to make a difference, you just need to show up, be yourself and maybe throw in a joke or two.”
So yeah, Batman’s cool and all, but I’ll take Robin, the guy who brings life, laughter and a little bit of chaos in the best possible way.
This poem expresses the deep feeling of yearning and the lasting warmth of love that never fades. Using the imagery of rain, night, and memory, it shows how absence can still resonate in the heart, making every drop and silence a reminder of someone special.
It is a beautiful portrayal of love’s endurance, even as distance and time attempt to dull its brightness.
“When Memory Speaks”
In the rain, I hear your name, Every drop repeats the same. Your touch is hidden in the skies, Love keeps living in my eyes.
Though the night may drift away, Your memory forever stays. Time can fade, but not replace, The warmth of your gentle embrace.
I didn’t appreciate this as a kid but especially in the last ten years or so, because I don’t get home more than twice a year, whenever we eat supper at her place it tastes like the best meal I’ve ever had.
She is a really good cook but I think it’s more so ’cause I’m eating Mom’s cooking. Right?
And beyond that, my list of faves would go on and on. I love a good tuna sandwich or egg salad sandwich. I love a good t-bone steak. I love Indian food, Chinese food and Mexican food. Thai food. Italian food. Greek food.
Although I limit myself to it, I love toast with peanut butter and Concord grape jelly. I can’t make a pot of KD for the kids and not dive in with the wooden spoon for a few bites.
I love a turkey dinner with all the fixings. Eggs any old way. Bowls of cereal.
There’s not that much I won’t eat, besides maybe headcheese or haggis.
I believe this is my older sister Corinne’s 6th bday, she’s far left, then me, a neighbour Jason, my younger sister Gena and another neighbour Wade far right
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and brimming with curiosity. Today’s writing prompt — “What things give you energy?” — is such a fascinating question.
Energy isn’t only about calories or hours of sleep; it’s the spark that makes us want to jump out of bed, take on challenges, and truly live.
Let’s explore the sources that fuel us, body and soul.
1⃣ Nourishment for the Body
The most obvious source of energy is what we feed ourselves. A colorful plate filled with fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and proteins is more than just food — it’s stored sunlight and earth’s bounty transformed into vitality.
A breakfast of oats with berries, or a bowl of fresh curd and nuts, feels like a little celebration of life.
Hydration is equally important; a glass of water or herbal tea can revive you faster than most realize.
I love to enjoy coconut water during my morning walk. When we respect our bodies by giving them wholesome nourishment, they reward us with strength and alertness.
2⃣ The Magic of Movement
Paradoxically, expending energy through movement creates more energy. A brisk walk, yoga flow, or a dance session switches on circulation, floods the brain with oxygen, and releases feel-good hormones.
Even on days when motivation is low, just ten minutes of stretching can melt away heaviness.
For some, team sports or workouts at the gym spark their fire; for others, quiet tai chi or a sunlit jog is enough.
I love running on a treadmill. The key is to find a rhythm that makes you smile while moving.
3⃣ Rest and Replenishment
Energy is not endless — it needs renewal. Quality sleep, short breaks during the day, and moments of pure rest act as hidden power banks.
In the afternoon, I took a short nap to recharge.
Creating a relaxing evening routine — with soft lighting, calm music, and gratitude journaling — signals my body to relax, so I wake up the next morning feeling refreshed.
4⃣ Purpose and Passion
Beyond physical factors, our emotional landscape shapes how energetic we feel.
Have you noticed how working on something meaningful can keep you awake for hours without tiredness? Yes, Passion is a natural energizer.
Whether it’s writing, gardening, teaching, coding, or caring for loved ones, the activities that align with our values send a quiet message to our brain:this matters.
That inner conviction can power us through long projects and even dull chores.
5⃣ Connections and Community
Humans are wired for connection. Warm conversations with friends, laughter shared over coffee, or a heartfelt message can lift even a weary heart.
Positive relationships give us emotional fuel; they remind us we’re part of something bigger than ourselves.
Volunteering or helping someone also generates a surprising surge of vitality, proving that giving is receiving in disguise.
6⃣ Nature’s Refreshing Touch
Few things revive us as quickly as stepping outdoors. Sunshine wakes up our circadian rhythm, trees filter the air we breathe, and natural beauty soothes frazzled nerves.
A quiet moment watching birds or feeling the breeze can be as effective as an espresso shot — minus the jitters.
Even city dwellers can find energy in small green pockets, balcony plants, or a view of the sky.
7⃣ Curiosity and Learning
Energy isn’t only physical; our minds also crave stimulation. Reading an inspiring book, exploring a new skill, or solving a tricky puzzle keeps neurons alive and eager
Curiosity acts like an internal spring, keeping our perspective fresh.
When boredom sets in, try feeding your intellect — you may find fatigue dissolving as excitement returns.
8⃣ Gratitude and Positivity
Finally, there’s a quiet, sustainable source of energy: a grateful heart. Focusing on blessings, however small, lifts our mood and encourages hope.
Optimism doesn’t deny life’s challenges, but it equips us to meet them with resilience.
Beginning the day by noting a few things you’re thankful for, or ending it with appreciation, is like charging your inner battery with light.
My Final Submission
Energy isn’t a single secret waiting to be discovered; it’s a mosaic of habits, attitudes, and choices.
When we nourish our body, move with joy, rest deeply, pursue passions, nurture relationships, spend time in nature, keep learning, and practice gratitude, we invite a steady current of vitality into our lives.
So the next time you feel drained, remember to check these sources. Perhaps you need a good meal, a walk in the park, a meaningful conversation, or simply a few deep breaths while appreciating the present moment.
May this reflection inspire you to discover — and protect — the things that give you energy. After all, a well-nourished, enthusiastic self is the best gift you can offer the world.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Since WP is recycling prompts, is it indirectly asking us to exercise our brain? But Sunday… my husband gave me today’s idea because I didn’t want to think too much, and here I am stressing it more than I intended!
Sunday mornings are made for leisure and unhurried travel. The train doesn’t roar off with the usual weekday urgency; it hums softly, as if stretching itself awake. Repairs along the track usually mean delays, or just the deliberate laziness of weekend schedules means there’s time – unexpected time – in between.
If you’re not rushing somewhere, it’s easy to enjoy the quiet. Watch other travelers sip coffee with a level of concentration usually reserved for meditation. Some peer at their phones as though they can jump inside and participate in whatever they’re watching. Others, armed with newspapers and playing Sudoku, pretend they’re solving world problems while they’re just figuring out simple addition or whatever. Then, there are those involved in animated conversations, while some catch up on their beauty sleep. Thankfully, we are saved from some unwanted train romance. Believe me, there’s enough happening on weekdays by young couples .
Listen to the rhythm of the tracks or watch the indicator changing the schedule for some other destination, smile, or get a little mad, because you know you’ll be late by at least one existential crisis.
But of course, waiting is where the mind wanders.
When the train pauses, you notice how quickly life interrupts our plans. We think we’re headed somewhere, to work, to a celebration, to another appointment, and suddenly, repairs, delays, or unforeseen detours hold us back. It’s funny how often that happens.
That’s when I wondered… isn’t life itself just transit? We’re all somewhere between one station and the next. Between what’s been and what’s coming. Some waits are short and unexpected, like missing a connection because you stopped for a snack. Others stretch on and on, making us wonder if we’ve been forgotten by time itself, or worse, if someone misplaced our ticket.
Some of us, even when the final call comes, find we aren’t ready to leave. We’d ask for one more cup of tea, one more hug, one more sunrise… or maybe just one more biscuit that we shouldn’t eat but can’t resist. We did indulge our Dad those last few months.
So, while we’re stuck – whether at a platform, a gate, or simply between breaths, we might as well make the best of it. Laugh at the announcement that says, “boarding delayed indefinitely.” Share stories with strangers who, like us, are between destinations. Savor the little things: the smell of coffee, the warmth of sunlight through dusty windows, the quiet companionship of fellow wanderers. Or simply watch how someone manages to fall asleep mid-announcement, snoring like a freight train.
After all, this waiting is part of the journey. We can either fret about when we’ll move on or enjoy the lounge, however temporary it is.
And when the final train does arrive… well, maybe we’ll step aboard with a smile, I do hope I go out roaring with laughter and not get kicked out for laughing too much, after all, we’ve made the most of the wait. Maybe we could even pack an extra snack for the next stretch… that is, if we still have bodies .
Phanishwar Nath Renu
Every year on September 14th, India bows its head in honor of Hindi—the language that was officially adopted in 1949 as the Republic’s own.
But Hindi Diwas is more than a date. It is a reminder of our collective identity, of stories passed down over generations, and of the dreams of countless voices strung together by words.
On this day, as we celebrate the vastness of Hindi, it is only fitting to remember one of its brightest storytellers—Phanishwar Nath Renu, the rebel writer, the chronicler of the soil, and the echo of the common people.
Born of the Soil, Born of Struggles
Renu’s journey began on March 4, 1921, in Araria, Bihar, amidst the humble yet resilient realities of rural India. His early education in India and Nepal brought him close to the land, its people, its dialects, and its struggles.
But Renu didn’t confine himself to books; he shouldered the torch of revolution. He fought for India’s freedom, threw himself into Nepal’s movement for democracy in 1950, and stood shoulder to shoulder with visionaries like Jayaprakash Narayan.
The fire of rebellion kindled in his heart never faded—it merely found a new medium: his pen. Through writing, Renu transformed his lived struggles into living literature.
“Maila Anchal” and Beyond: A New Language of Hindi
If Hindi binds India, Renu reshaped its very fabric. He brought ordinary lives into extraordinary prose, creating what we today know as anchalik sahitya (regional literature).
His masterpiece, Maila Anchal (The Soiled Linen), did not simply tell a story— it captured a heartbeat.
It carried the fragrance of Bihar’s soil, the rhythm of folk songs, the whispers of local dialects, and the cries of villages caught in poverty, injustice, and hope.
For the first time in Hindi literature, villagers were not “characters” to be pitied or romanticized; they were real, flesh-and-blood humans, with their laughter, longing, anger, and silence.
Renu’s pen gave them dignity. No wonder the novel earned him the Padma Shri, though he later fearlessly returned it as a protest against injustice. To him, truth was greater than honors.
His story Mare Gaye Gulfam later bloomed on screen as Teesri Kasam, with Raj Kapoor and Waheeda Rehman—an immortal film that carried Renu’s essence of longing and tenderness into the hearts of cinema lovers.
The Writer Who Could Write Sounds
What made Renu so magical was his ability to hear and make us hear. The croaking of frogs on a stormy night, the hum of insects in stillness, the thumping of a drum in a distant village fair—he etched them all into words.
To read him is to step inside a living village, to feel monsoon winds brushing past the banana trees, to smell the wet earth, to hear voices rising in song or protest.
But behind this poetry of sound lived a conscience that never slept. Renu was a fighter against exploitation, oppression, and corruption. His voice was not ornamental; it was a weapon of truth.
When Literature Became Resistance
Renu’s life and writing were never separate streams; they merged into one river of resistance.
During the days of political unrest in Bihar, he renounced his Padma Shri, calling it “Papashri”, turning the moment into a moral awakening for many. For him, awards meant little if democracy and dignity were attacked.
This was Renu’s essence—an artist who believed literature was not meant to weave illusions but to sharpen reality. His pen belonged to the people, not to power.
Renu on Hindi Diwas: A Living Tribute
On April 11, 1977, barely at the age of 56, Phanishwar Nath Renu breathed his last in Patna.
But legends do not die. As Nepal’s former Prime Minister Bishweshwar Prasad Koirala said, “Renu has not died; he lives on in the hearts of those who struggle.”
On a day like Hindi Diwas, when we honor the language as a thread that binds India, remembering Renu becomes more than a tribute—it becomes a responsibility.
He reminds us that Hindi is not hollow grandeur, nor just state recognition. Hindi is the voice of villages, bazaars, farmers, dreamers, and rebels. It is the sound of soil meeting sky, of stories born from reality and nourished in struggle.
The Legacy Lives
To read Renu is to realize that literature is life itself. His characters still walk beside us, laugh with us, and sometimes remind us of our own neighbors and families.
His villages are not confined to Bihar; they reflect every Indian heartland. His fearless honesty tells us what Hindi can achieve—not just as language, but as a spirit of unity, empathy, and courage.
This Hindi Diwas, as we celebrate the language of our identity, let us remember Renu—the man who gave Hindi the strength of the soil, the truth of the streets, and the music of the people.
For as long as Hindi lives, so will the voice of Phanishwar Nath Renu.
BE HAPPY….BE ACTIVE….BE FOCUSED….BE ALIVE…
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The Missus came out and asked what Manny was doing.
She was unimpressed by my peanut butter deposit.
She also suggested that maybe Manny was stuck.
I’d noticed that the topmost part of the trim was too slick for her to walk on / stick to a couple of days ago, but she seemed to be able to navigate everything below that just fine.
I assumed she had chosen to stay.
To starve for three days.
Just to be with me.
(OK, maybe I’m flattering myself with that last bit.)
(Maybe.)
Easy enough to test.
I put down strips of painters tape on the too slick part.
She gloomed onto the first strip before I’d finished pressing it down.
And skeedadled the moment I’d put down enough for her to get over the trim.
Goodbye, you glorious, beautiful beast!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got something in my eye.
Not knowing if Manny is molting or dying, but absolutely knowing she hasn’t moved around enough to possibly hunt for food, I left out a dab of peanut butter.
No idea if praying mantises can eat that (or are allergic), but I could hardly leave bugs out for her.
But boy did her head swivel when I placed that dollop an inch away from her.
This evening, I found her hovering directly over it.
Doesn’t look like she ate any, but it certainly got her attention…
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood! Today’s writing prompt is one that instantly made me pause and smile: “What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?”
In our lives, we hear countless words of guidance — from parents, teachers, colleagues, mentors, or even from a stranger passing by.
But once in a while, a single line shines so brightly that it becomes a compass, guiding us through doubts and detours.
For me, that advice came from my Big Brother, who said:
“Don’t chase success; chase growth. Success will follow.”
At the time, I was a young student, restless and impatient to “make it big.” I wanted clear shortcuts, a formula for instant achievement.
But my Brother’s words planted a different seed. They encouraged me to focus on learning, experimenting, and stretching myself — rather than obsessing over applause or recognition.
Why This Advice Stands Out
So many of us grow up with an invisible checklist: get a good degree, find a good job, earn promotions, buy a house, travel.
Ambition is fine, but we often mix success with happiness. Just when we achieve one goal, another comes up, and we end up running on a never-ending treadmill.
The wisdom of “chasing growth” gently shifts the spotlight from outcome to journey. Growth is internal — it’s about becoming wiser, kinder, more capable, more resilient.
It doesn’t fade when circumstances change, and it isn’t tied to anyone else’s approval. Success, on the other hand, can be fragile; it depends on trends, competition, or luck.
By focusing on growth, you build a steady foundation. Even if you stumble, the skills and insights you’ve gathered stay with you.
That’s why athletes train for hours beyond the applause of the stadium, why writers fill notebooks long before a publisher calls, and why entrepreneurs persist through early failures.
They’re invested in becoming, not just arriving.
Lessons Learned Along the Way
Embracing this advice has taught me some powerful lessons:
Curiosity is a superpower. When you aim to grow, you approach life with open curiosity. Every conversation, every book, every setback becomes an opportunity to learn. I stopped fearing “not knowing” and began asking more questions.
Progress over perfection. Chasing growth helps you let go of the need to be flawless. You’re allowed to be a work in progress. That mindset gave me permission to start projects without waiting for perfect conditions — and ironically, that’s when the best work began to happen.
Resilience blooms from learning. Growth-oriented people don’t crumble as easily in tough times. Instead of seeing failure as the end, they see it as feedback.
When I once lost an important opportunity, I focused on what the experience was teaching me rather than what I had lost. That shift made recovery faster and more meaningful.
Success becomes a by-product. The funny thing is, when you focus on growth, success often sneaks up on you. Promotions, recognition, or financial rewards start to appear as side effects of your dedication, not as your sole motivation.
Applying This Wisdom Daily
You don’t need grand gestures to live by this advice. Start with small, intentional habits:
Read something that stretches your thinking.
Seek feedback, even if it’s uncomfortable.
Reflect on your day: What did I learn? How did I grow?
Celebrate effort, not just results.
Even a modest shift — like treating challenges as “training grounds” instead of threats — can rewire how you experience life.
My final submission
Looking back, I see how that single sentence from my Big Brother has touched every area of my life — from work to relationships, from hobbies to the way I recover from disappointments.
Growth is a lifelong adventure, and its rewards run deeper than any medal or paycheck.
So, dear friends, the next time you feel pressured to “arrive” somewhere fast, pause and ask yourself:
Am I growing through this?
The answer will gently guide you forward, one step at a time, toward becoming the best version of yourself.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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It’s in my blood to be a walker. I come from a family of walkers, no runners. So it only felt natural to get into walking as well.
I think when my Dad started walking, neighbours probably thought he was loco. Big strong macho farmers didn’t exercise, that was unheard of.
But, being that he is terrified of hospitals, medical procedures and really, doctors in general, when he was told quit smoking and get walking or else (surgery), he did it. He threw the cigarettes out the window and started chewing on those little carrots AND he started walking four miles each morning and four miles each evening. Religiously.
Thirty years, a heart attack and a broken hip later, he still walks everyday. I have several other family members who walk daily as well.
I got into walking a couple of years before my marriage ended, with my best friend at the time. It was my therapy each evening.
I still walk almost every evening with a friend and former coworker who lives just down the street.
On Saturday mornings I walk with Sue, which, if you follow my blog, is an older lady, a retired nurse who I used to work with. She was never married, never even had a boyfriend or significant other and raised one son on her own. He chose the road of being estranged from Sue more than ten years ago and not for a life of crime or drugs, but for his partner, because of her religion/culture.
I enjoy Sue’s company. This older crowd of people, our senior citizens, they are a real treasure. They think different (sometimes in a not so good way lol), but for the most part they mean well. And it’s sad to think that in another 20ish years, this generation will cease to exist.
Going to call her shortly for our Saturday walk with our dogs. Better get on that because she’s up with the birds.
My Aunty Judy sent this to me yesterday…it’s my Dad on far left, my uncle Monty far right and in the middle my Grampa Antichow and little Judy
This poem praises the poet for his strength, resilience, and kindness. It highlights his grace, humility, and the positive influence he has on others through his wisdom and compassion.
The verses celebrate his journey and the warmth and hope he offers to the world.
# Because of You #
A name that whispers of triumph and grace, A soul ever seeking life’s tender embrace. In pages of thought, reflections you weave, Each word is a gift, a truth you believe.
Verma, a name both gentle and strong, Resilience within you has turned into song. Walk of kindness, leaving footprints behind, A legacy etched in each heart that you bind.
The morning sun pauses, the twilight does too, To honor the journey unfolding in you. Though wisdom is yours, you live with such grace, You brighten the night and give hope in its place.
So keep sharing light, let your spirit be known, The seeds you have planted, now beautifully grown. The world feels much warmer, radiant, and true, Because, dear Vijay, it is blessed by you.
If I ran and walked more, I’d probably disappear altogether – and who can afford that? I silly dance with my daughter, that’s my workout.
What I can afford to be, though, is Calamity Jane. At least, that’s what my husband thinks. I’m not sure if I’ve perfected the art of stumbling and falling… or if my body just really enjoys getting acquainted with the ground.
Every other day, I trip over nothing. When my daughter’s around, she laughs heartily, but still can’t figure out how I can be so clumsy while walking. And yes, I have butter fingers. Throw me something, and chances are it’s doomed to meet its end. My teen just rolls his eyes and walks away.
Since childhood, I’ve been accident and injury-prone. My daughter looks at the scars and expects stories . But I have a lingering shoulder injury that’s not funny when it decides to throw a tantrum – and that’s often. I guess the bones are inching toward “vintage model” status, even when I keep denying the reality.
I need to get on the walking soon. Just waiting for the monsoon to leave. I think it has overstayed its welcome. Today it suddenly rained, and not just light showers! I shouldn’t be complaining, though… the alternative is unwelcome. It won’t be long before I start ranting about the heat!
Trying to write some humor today… because sometimes laughing at yourself is the best way to stay sane.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and ready for a melodic adventure! Today’s writing prompt — “What’s your all-time favorite album?” — is as thrilling as it is challenging.
Music is such a personal companion, a language that transcends words, cultures, and generations.
Picking just one album to crown as your ultimate favorite feels like choosing a single star from the entire night sky.
Yet, that is precisely why this prompt is so delightful: it invites us to pause, sift through the soundtrack of our lives, and honor the record that has shaped our emotions, memories, and growth.
Albums are more than collections of songs. They are carefully crafted stories, each track a chapter that guides us through moods and ideas.
When an artist builds an album, they design a journey — from the opening notes to the closing whisper — and invite us to walk alongside them.
Unlike single tracks that grab instant attention, albums reward patience; they reveal textures, layers, and messages only after we have spent time with them.
My Favourite: “Abbey Road” by The Beatles.
That makes choosing a favorite a reflection not only of our taste but also of who we are.
My personal “all-time favorite” is “Abbey Road” by The Beatles. Released in 1969, it remains a benchmark of creativity and collaboration.
From the first groove of Come Together to the lush harmonies of Because, the album is a kaleidoscope of moods — playful, reflective, edgy, and tender.
What makes “Abbey Road” so enduring is its seamless blend of individual brilliance and collective magic.
Each member of the band shines — Lennon’s wit, McCartney’s melody, Harrison’s spirituality, Starr’s rhythmic heartbeat — yet together they form something larger than life.
The record’s second side, often called the “Abbey Road medley,” is a masterclass in storytelling through music.
Short songs like Mean Mr. Mustard and Polythene Pam link hands with lyrical gems like Golden Slumbers and Carry That Weight, culminating in The End.
Its closing line, “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make,” still resonates like a timeless truth. Even after decades, every listen feels fresh, as if the band recorded it just for today’s listener.
Its craftsmanship makes Album Favourite
But what makes an album your “all-time favorite” isn’t only its craftsmanship; it’s also the memories it anchors.
For me, “Abbey Road” is tied to long car rides with friends, learning guitar chords in my room, and even moments of quiet reflection when life felt uncertain.
Yes, Certain records become companions — they comfort us during storms and amplify our joy when the sun shines bright. Music, after all, is an emotional time machine.
Of course, each of us carries a different soundtrack. For some, the perfect album might be the pulsating energy of Michael Jackson’s Thriller, where pop and dance reinvented themselves.
Others might gravitate toward the raw poetry of Nirvana’s Nevermind, the atmospheric calm of Enya’s Watermark, or the genre-bending mastery of Beyoncé’s Lemonade.
There are jazz lovers who swear by Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue, and rock devotees who find solace in Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon. Every album that earns the title “favorite” does so because it mirrors a part of our soul.
This is why the prompt is so powerful. It isn’t merely about ranking music; it’s an invitation to explore identity. Our musical preferences reveal stories about where we’ve been, who we’ve loved, and how we’ve grown.
The album speaks to our values
Sometimes, a favorite album speaks to our values — resilience, freedom, empathy, or the courage to dream. At other times, it reflects our need to escape, to dance, or to cry without words.
When we articulate why we love a certain record, we uncover pieces of ourselves.
In a world that often rushes toward the next trending playlist or viral single, returning to a full album is a refreshing act of presence. It asks us to slow down, to listen intentionally, to let music unfold at its own pace.
Whether we stream it digitally or play a vinyl record, that ritual of settling in with an album — reading the liner notes, noticing subtle details, feeling the rhythm — is a gift we give ourselves.
Find Your hidden treasures
So, dear friends, take a moment after reading this blog to reflect on your own all-time favorite album.
Maybe it’s one you’ve cherished for decades, or perhaps a recent discovery that already feels like an old friend.
Revisit it with new ears, and you may find hidden treasures you’d forgotten. Share your choice with loved ones, or even invite them to listen together. Music, after all, is meant to be experienced and celebrated.
Ultimately, the magic of this question lies not only in naming the album, but in recognizing how music shapes the story of our lives.
Whatever your answer may be, let it remind you of the beauty in slowing down, of savoring melodies, and of allowing art to speak to your heart.
Here’s to the songs that make us who we are — and to the albums that hold our stories between their tracks.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I know I ride this middle child thing hard, but I think it’s valid. As a middle child I had to be both a leader (to my younger sister) and a follower (of my older sister).
I enjoy each role and always have.
I recall, as a kid, sitting on the dryer while my older sister tried to put mascara on my lashes. I remember looking through the cool stuff on her dresser like her Exclamation perfume and all the tapes she had amassed. (Tapes as in music, that’s what we used to call them).
We were only one year and one grade apart and the story goes that on my first day of grade one (I skipped Kindergarten), she took me to my classroom and had to gently push me through the doorway as I was ever so slightly resisting.
In high school at the end of the day she would always be on the bus before me and when I got on, I was so relieved to see her and sit with her all the way home. And even though we weren’t touchy feely, it’s hard to explain how I felt when I sat down beside someone so familiar to me after a long and sometimes stressful day of just being a teenager in high school.
It was like a warm hug.
It’s the little things that make a Healthcare Aide Instructor happy
Happy Birthday, Abhika!
Birthdays have always been special in our family, but today holds a meaning that goes beyond cake, balloons, and candles.
It’s the birthday of my beloved granddaughter,Abhika, and although I’m miles away this year, my heart is right there beside her, celebrating every smile, every giggle, every little sparkle in her eyes.
The Day She Arrived
I still remember the day she arrived in our lives — a tiny bundle of joy who wrapped the entire family around her little fingers the moment she opened her eyes.
Her laughter, even as a baby, had the power to brighten every corner of the house. From that moment, she wasn’t just a grandchild; she became my little companion, my storyteller, and my teacher in the art of simple happiness.
A Precious Memory: Her First Birthday
One memory stands out above all: her first birthday. The house was alive with music, colorful decorations, and the irresistible aroma of freshly baked cake.
She sat in her little chair, dressed in soft pink, her face glowing brighter than the candles waiting to be blown out.
As family and friends gathered around, she clapped her tiny hands, as if she already knew how much she was loved.
That day wasn’t just a milestone for her; it was the beginning of a bond that has only grown deeper with time.
Among the many gifts she received, there was one that remains closest to my heart — a small piece of paper with wobbly letters, handed to me with the utmost sincerity. On it were the words:
“You are the best Dadu in the world because you always listen to my stories.”
It wasn’t just a note; it was a treasure. The crayons she used had left uneven but vibrant strokes, a rainbow of affection that spoke louder than any lavish present could.
I keep that note safely tucked in my writing desk, and even today, I sometimes pause to read it.
Each glance at those words melts my heart, reminding me that love is rarely about grand gestures — it’s about presence, patience, and truly listening.
Celebrating From Afar
As I sit away from home on this birthday, I feel a tug in my heart. I miss watching her excitement as she opens her gifts, the way her eyes widen when the candles are lit, and the sweet sound of her laughter filling the room.
But I also feel a quiet gratitude. Technology has made it possible for me to watch her blow out her candles, to hear her cheerful voice saying, “Thank you, Dadu!” even through a screen. Love, after all, knows no distance.
Watching Her Grow
Abhika is growing fast — every year brings a new chapter in her story. From the little girl who clutched her crayons to the thoughtful, spirited young soul she’s becoming, she continues to surprise me with her kindness, curiosity, and zest for life.
She’s learning to ask big questions, to see the world with wonder, and to sprinkle joy wherever she goes. Watching her blossom is one of the greatest blessings of my life.
What I cherish most is the way she teaches me, often without even realizing it. She reminds me to slow down, to pay attention, to savor small, ordinary moments.
She reminds me that listening is a gift, that the stories we share build bridges across generations.
She reminds me that birthdays aren’t just about counting years — they’re about celebrating connections, memories, and the promise of all the tomorrows yet to come.
A Birthday Blessing
So today, dear Abhika, even though I couldn’t be there to hold your hand as you cut the cake, I’m sending you all the warmth in my heart.
May you always know how loved you are, how proud I am of you, and how much I cherish every story you share with me.
May you grow with confidence and kindness, may your laughter continue to echo through our lives, and may you always find reasons to smile, even on quiet days.
Happy Birthday, Abhika!
You are the sunshine that lights up our family, the melody that keeps our hearts singing, and the gentle reminder of what truly matters — love, laughter, and togetherness.
As I write these words, I’m already looking forward to the next time I can hug you tight and hear about your latest adventures.
Until then, know that your Dadu is cheering for you from afar, with blessings as wide as the sky.
Here’s to you, my darling granddaughter — may every step you take be filled with joy, courage, and dreams as colorful as the crayon note you once gifted me.
Another repeat. This time I’m giving this question more thought. As for me being a leader, my previous thoughts have not changed .
Who is a leader? One who sits on a chair and demands answers, or one who labors and toils alongside others?
Is it one who demands blind loyalty and worship, or one who, without seeking it, earns respect and reverence for who they are?
Is it one who holds power tightly and uses it to misguide, or one who knows that true strength lies not in might but in purpose?
For when everything around him is burning, a leader stands with courage, speaking truth to power, even at the cost of personal gain. He doesn’t flee the fire – he runs toward it, ready to face the flames for the sake of others.
Is it one who says I, me, and myself, or one who boldly stands and says we?
Is it one who divides with fear and control, or one who heals with compassion and trust?
Is it one who speaks for applause, or one who listens in silence and acts without show?
Is it one who stands above, or one who walks with others, sharing burdens and dreams alike?
A leader is not a throne, not a crown, not a title bestowed – A leader is one who carries responsibility, who lifts others without demanding, who stands firm in truth, yet bends in empathy, who shines not for glory but for the collective good.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and curious mood.
Curiosity, after all, is the spark that ignites knowledge. Today’s writing prompt truly caught my attention: “Which topics would you like to be more informed about?”
This simple yet profound question opens the door to reflection on how we use our time, what interests we pursue, and how learning shapes the person we become.
We live in a world overflowing with information, yet knowledge is not about gathering random facts—it is about understanding deeply, connecting ideas, and applying them meaningfully in our lives.
When I think of the topics I would like to be more informed about, a wide range of fascinating subjects come to mind.
Each of these holds the potential to enrich my understanding of life and to make me a better version of myself. Let me take you through some of them.
1. The Mysteries of the Human Mind
The human brain is perhaps the most extraordinary creation of nature. Despite all our progress in neuroscience, we still know so little about how memory, emotions, creativity, and consciousness actually work.
I often wonder why certain memories stay with us forever while others fade, or why music can move us to tears without any words attached.
Learning more about psychology and the mind would not only satisfy my curiosity but also help me build better relationships, understand people’s behaviors, and manage stress more effectively.
Imagine if all of us were a little more informed about mental health—wouldn’t the world be a kinder place?
2. Technology and Artificial Intelligence
We are living in a digital revolution, where technology changes faster than we can keep up. Artificial Intelligence is no longer just a buzzword—it is part of our daily lives, from voice assistants to medical diagnosis tools.
Yet, most of us use it without truly understanding its depth, benefits, or risks. I would like to be more informed about how AI works, its ethical challenges, and its potential for shaping the future.
Will machines replace human jobs, or will they create new opportunities? Will AI ever understand human emotions the way we do?
These are questions worth exploring because they will define the generations to come.
3. The Wonders of the Natural World
No matter how modern we become, our roots lie in nature. From the smallest insect to the tallest mountain, the world around us is filled with lessons waiting to be discovered.
I often feel a desire to learn more about ecosystems, biodiversity, and climate change—not just as abstract concepts but as realities that directly impact our lives.
Being informed about how the Earth sustains itself inspires us to live more responsibly.
When we understand how fragile our planet is, we naturally feel the urge to protect it.
4. History and Cultural Heritage
The past is not just about dates and battles—it is about stories, struggles, and wisdom that continue to influence the present.
I wish to be more informed about lesser-known parts of world history and about cultural traditions that are slowly fading.
Every region, every community has a tale that shaped its identity. The more we know about them, the more connected and empathetic we become.
History teaches us resilience, culture teaches us respect, and together they remind us that humanity is one family.
5. The Art of Healthy Living
Health is wealth, yet how much do we really know about keeping ourselves well—physically, mentally, and spiritually?
I want to keep learning about nutrition, fitness, meditation, and holistic healing.
Science continues to discover new connections between lifestyle and longevity, but ancient wisdom like yoga and Ayurveda also hold timeless truths.
To be more informed about healthy living means to embrace a lifestyle that allows us to enjoy life with energy, balance, and positivity.
6. The Power of Human Connections
In this fast-paced world, relationships often take a backseat to ambition and achievement.
I would like to explore more about communication, empathy, and the psychology of love and friendship.
How can we build stronger bonds? How can we resolve conflicts without hurt?
Being informed in this area is perhaps the most valuable knowledge one can have because, at the end of the day, what matters most is the people we share our lives with.
Why This Question Matters
The beauty of this writing prompt is that it reminds us of a simple truth: learning never ends.
To ask ourselves “Which topics would I like to be more informed about?” is to acknowledge that growth is a lifelong journey.
Each new insight adds a layer to who we are. It sharpens our thinking, broadens our vision, and deepens our humanity.
In the end, the topics may differ for each one of us, but the desire to know more unites us.
For some, it may be science and technology, for others, art and literature, and for yet others, spirituality and philosophy.
What truly matters is that we keep our minds open, our curiosity alive, and our hearts willing to embrace wisdom from every corner.
My final submission
As I reflect on this question, I realize that the world is an endless library, and we are all lifelong students.
Knowledge is not something we acquire once and keep on a shelf; it is something we must live with, question, and use to make life better—not just for ourselves, but for others too.
So, dear friends, I leave you with a thought: Which topics do you wish to be more informed about? And what steps will you take today to begin that journey of learning? After all, the joy of discovery is one of life’s greatest adventures.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Was it a few days or weeks ago that I watched a clip of a float delivering food to the people in Gaza being bombed? I read that 11 people from different nationalities were in it. The past few days, Nepal has been in the spotlight – for all the wrong reasons. Reading about the government seat being burned was unsettling. And then, I read about the former Prime Minister’s wife trapped in her burning house, that made my skin crawl. Depravity at work? To add to this, yesterday a well-known figure in America was killed in broad daylight at his own event. I also read about a young woman murdered in a public transport while no one stepped forward to help.
As usual, I come up with questions. Have we, as humans, become so numb? Are we so driven by fear and confusion? Are we so morally uncertain that we cannot comprehend right from wrong anymore? Being human, are we not all going through similar struggles?
It’s easy to see how constant exposure to violence and injustice numbs us, not because we don’t care, but because we simply cannot process the magnitude of such tragedies. Fear of becoming part of the chaos keeps us silent. Confusion about what to do paralyzes action. In trying to protect ourselves, we distance ourselves from others.
Why are we so certain of our beliefs that we cannot see the pitfalls? No belief is absolute, especially not political views. Yet, we cling to certainty, as if it offers protection against the unknown. And in doing so, we risk hardening ourselves, turning compassion into weakness, empathy into doubt. This dangerous trend plays out in unnecessary, unending wars, while we deprive others of the most essential gift – life.
Where is our shared humanity? Are we so blinded by our beliefs we’ve hardened our hearts to such an extent that we’ve lost all sense of compassion and empathy? In truth, every person is battling their own struggles, physical, emotional or moral. We may not be able to fix everything, but recognizing this shared humanity is a step toward reconnecting with one another. Choosing compassion, even in the smallest gesture, is an act of courage, an act of resistance against fear and indifference.
It’s easy to feel overwhelmed and retreat into silence. But perhaps the answer isn’t to ignore the pain of the world, it’s to acknowledge that we are not alone in it. To quote J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye – “You’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You’re by no means alone on that score. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them—if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education. It’s history. It’s poetry.”
This poem, My Little Guardian, depicts the innocence of childhood with a young child holding her doll. It shows that small acts of love and care have great power, reveals that even tiny hands can dream, protect, and nurture.
With a gentle tone, the poem highlights a child’s pure heart—reminding us that even small love can light the way in an uncertain world.
My Little Guardian
In a cozy corner, safe and small, A child sits hugging her favorite doll. With curious eyes that shine so bright, She whispers dreams into the night.
The doll is more than cloth or thread, It’s where she rests her sleepy head. She rocks it softly, hums a tune, As stars peek in to kiss the moon.
Her world is woven with tender care, With love and joy wrapped gently there. Her tiny hands, though small and new, Hold promises steady, kind, and true.
For even though the world feels wide, Her heart will always be her guide— A little guardian, brave and sweet, With endless love in every heartbeat.
I don’t know. There are plenty of things in life we call our favorites, foods, colors, memories, but a word? Can a single word fall under favorite? Phrases, idioms, quotes, yes. But a word? I’ve never really thought about it.
Is it strange that we need words to write, speak and express ourselves, yet I’ve never considered words as favorites? Am I alone in this?
As I reflect on it, many words come to mind. But the one that draws me above all others is integrity. With how topsy-turvy the world appears, it seems that what we need most is integrity. It makes me wonder; is the lack of integrity why our world feels so broken and corrupt?
Unfortunately, integrity isn’t just another dying word, it’s become a principle we easily overlook. In my experience, integrity means doing what is right when no one knows or sees. It means remaining quiet even when fingers are pointed at you, even when people badmouth you without cause. It means faithfully doing the hard work, even when it goes unrecognized and unacknowledged. It means being misunderstood because you choose not to explain yourself.
When we act with integrity, we stand by our values and principles. The consistency between our words and actions reinforces our sense of self-worth and helps us feel proud of who we are. It isn’t about loud declarations or grand gestures. More often, it’s about standing alone, facing criticism and walking away from opportunities that require compromise.
In a world where misinformation and manipulation run rampant, integrity helps us navigate through the noise and confusion. It anchors us to truth and conscience. Perhaps the hardest part is that integrity asks us to confront our own weaknesses, biases and temptations, and choose what aligns with our convictions.
In short, living with integrity transforms our routine lives into meaningful moments. It contributes not only to our own growth but also to the well-being of those around us. Integrity is contagious. It becomes a standard others aspire to meet, creating communities built on honesty, compassion and fairness.
I have realized that integrity is a heart posture. Even as I write this, I’m forced to look inside myself. As much as I’d like to believe, I don’t always practice integrity. I have not reached that level of perfection yet. I fail more times than I can count. And yet, I hope that I have a teachable spirit, that I continue to learn, work on myself and grow.
I may falter, but every attempt to live with integrity strengthens me and perhaps, in small ways, strengthens those around me as well.
Today, I had to talk with my child about the fact that we live in a world where someone can be violently killed not for their actions but their words and beliefs.
Someone willing to talk it out with people, to listen and debate.
I had to watch my child struggle with the fact that we live in a world where this violence doesn’t just happen but is, in some circles, celebrated.
Where memes and videos of this violence are spread and cheered online.
This isn’t new.
It’s yet another example in a long line of examples of the breakdown of decency and rationality.
It’s the new norm.
Both sides of this divide, on the fringes, are othering those who disagree with them.
Are stoking the flames of hatred.
Are committing acts of violence.
And I don’t just have to live in this world, which is horrible enough.
I have to watch my kids live in this world. See this world for what it is rather than what it should be.
Watch them struggle with this vile truth.
Watch them realize that this isn’t just a far away thing for them, but that they have friends, they personally know people, capable of being part of the celebratory mob.
And wonder if any of them would be capable of the violence.
Watch realization dawning that this is likely going to be an awful cycle of tit-for-tat retaliation.
It breaks my heart.
That they have to deal with this.
And that I can’t comfort them.
How many are in despair right now at the world we live in? Young and old?
And how many are contributing to the cause of this despair?
I’m afraid that the ratio, rather than being lopsided, is closer to 50/50.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is one that made me laugh out loud the moment I read it: “Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.”
Now, I’ve had my fair share of kitchen mishaps—oversalted curries, undercooked rice, tea so strong it could wake the dead.
But my most unforgettable failure came in the form of a cake. A chocolate cake, to be precise. What was meant to be a delightful surprise for my family turned into something that looked like it belonged in a science lab rather than on a dining table.
The Dream
It all began with a noble ambition. I had visions of pulling a soft, moist, spongy chocolate cake out of the oven—one that would have Mary Berry nodding in approval and Gordon Ramsay (for once) speechless.
I watched a few YouTube tutorials where bakers whisked, folded, and frosted with effortless grace. “If they can do it,” I thought confidently, “so can I Famous last words.
The Chaos in the Kitchen
Step one: ingredients. Simple enough. Except I didn’t check the flour properly. Spoiler: it was older than some of the kitchen utensils.
Then came the butter. The recipe asked for “softened butter.” I decided “molten lava butter” from the microwave would surely be close enough.
As for the eggs, I cracked them with such force that one landed on the counter, another on the floor, and only half of one made it into the bowl.
My apron looked like I’d lost a fight with a hen.
When I added cocoa powder, a little puffed up into the air and settled on everything—including me. By the time I finished mixing, I looked less like a baker and more like a coal miner.
The Oven Incident
I proudly poured the lumpy mixture into a baking tin and slid it into the oven. The recipe clearly said 180°C for 35 minutes. But in my excitement (and lack of glasses), I turned the knob to 280°C.
For the first few minutes, a heavenly chocolate aroma filled the kitchen. I was beaming with pride. “I’m a natural!” I thought. But then… smoke. Thick, black, alarming smoke.
When I opened the oven door, I swear the cake growled at me. On top was a charred crust that looked like volcanic rock.
Underneath was an uncooked swamp of chocolate goo. It was half desert, half swamp, and wholly inedible.
The Desperate Frosting Attempt
Still refusing to accept defeat, I thought, Maybe icing will save it. I grabbed a tub of store-bought frosting and started spreading it.
But the cake was uneven, cracked, and cratered. The frosting slid off like mud in a landslide.
By the time I finished, it looked like something a toddler had sculpted during playtime. When I presented it to my family, there was a moment of stunned silence.
Then my granddaughter poked it with a fork, and it actually bounced back like a rubber ball.
My wife tried a bite, chewed twice, and said politely, “Dear, maybe the dog will like it?” The dog sniffed it and walked away. That was the final verdict.
The Lessons from the Disaster
Though the cake was a total failure, it left me with some valuable life lessons:
Patience matters. Rushing through steps—whether in baking or life—only leads to disasters.
Details count. The difference between 180°C and 280°C is the difference between dessert and disaster.
Failure can be funny. That cake became a family story, retold with laughter at every gathering.
Respect the experts. Professional bakers deserve medals for making it look so easy.
The Sweet Side of Failing
In the end, my family didn’t get a perfect cake that day—but they did get something better: entertainment.
My epic fail turned into an evening of jokes, laughter, and storytelling. Even now, whenever someone says “chocolate cake,” everyone in my house bursts out laughing.
So yes, my cake was a disaster. But it was also unforgettable. And perhaps that’s the sweetest part of all: sometimes, it’s not about perfection but the joy of laughing at our imperfect attempts.
And now, dear friends, I ask you: have you ever had a kitchen catastrophe that became a funny memory? Share your stories—I promise, we’ll laugh with you, not at you!
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Weather-wise we are having a beautiful week so I’d like to spend some time outside tonight, relaxing on the deck while Sid plays in the backyard. Unfortunately, he woke up at 5:30 this morning and so he most likely will be very tired, very early tonight.
After he goes to bed I will do some reading for the Teaching for Learning course I take. Class is Thursday afternoons from 1-4 and it stresses me out. It’s interesting and I do learn lots, it’s just that having assignments due every Sunday at midnight adds to my list of things to get done.
Around 10 pm I’ll have a bath and get to bed.
My cousin Trevor, sister Corinne, cousin Scott & myself at Wellman Lake…probably 1981-ish
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt question is indeed an exciting one: “How do you celebrate holidays?”
Holidays hold a very special place in our hearts. They are not merely dates marked on a calendar; they are moments when time slows down, memories are created, and hearts are refreshed.
Each person has a unique way of celebrating holidays—some prefer adventure, others relaxation, and many a blend of tradition and togetherness.
Let me share my reflections and experiences on how holidays are celebrated, and why they matter so much.
The Essence of Holidays
To me, holidays are like pauses in the song of life. They are intervals where we step away from routines and listen to the music of freedom.
A holiday gives us permission to stop running in circles of deadlines, responsibilities, and chores, and instead, embrace laughter, joy, and self-expression.
Some holidays are festive—Diwali, Christmas, Eid, Holi—while others are personal getaways or family trips.
Regardless of the form, each holiday carries the same promise: renewal of the soul.
Family First: Celebrating Togetherness
My most cherished way of celebrating holidays is by spending time with my family. I truly believe every holiday becomes a festival at home.
Between hectic work schedules and daily responsibilities, I make sure to mark holidays as special moments for togetherness.
The house often gets decorated, delicious meals are prepared, and relatives gather. Even a simple Sunday holiday feels like a celebration if it means we can all sit together at the dining table.
During Diwali, for example, we light diyas, decorate the home with flowers, make rangoli, exchange sweets, and perform prayers for prosperity.
The atmosphere fills with warmth and love—not only because of rituals but also because of the stories we share, the jokes we laugh at, and the old memories we relive.
For me, holidays are incomplete without this touch of togetherness.
Food: The Soul of Every Holiday
One cannot talk about holidays without mentioning food. Each holiday carries its own aroma and taste, often linked to childhood memories.
For instance, Holi always reminds me of gujiyas, thandai, dahi badas, and malpuas prepared at home.
The fragrance of these traditional dishes fills the air, tempting everyone even before the first bite.
Food is more than nourishment—it is an expression of celebration, a way of saying, “Let’s enjoy this moment together.”
In fact, holiday feasts connect generations. Recipes are passed down, memories are revived, and every dish tells a story of tradition and love.
Travel: Exploring the Unknown
Another way I love to celebrate holidays is through travel. A holiday is the perfect excuse to pack bags and set off on an adventure.
I remember a few months back, my two sons and other family members happened to have time off together.
By sheer luck, our schedules aligned, and we decided to celebrate with a trip to Mandarmani, a beach destination.
A Journey to the Shore
The four-hour car ride was filled with laughter, songs, and endless chatter. Each passing mile brought us closer to the sea, and the excitement grew with every turn of the road.
A Feast for the Senses
Arriving at Mandarmani was like stepping into a painting. The sunset cast golden rays over the waves, blending into a palette of pinks, oranges, and purples.
The rhythmic sound of the ocean instantly calmed my soul. Children ran freely across the sands, their laughter mingling with the sea breeze.
Couples strolled hand-in-hand, while an artist stood by the shore, passionately capturing the fleeting beauty of the moment on his canvas.
The Magic of Sunset
As the sun sank lower, the sky turned into a fiery spectacle of crimson and vermilion.
Boats became silhouettes against the glowing horizon, and the sound of distant songs carried by the wind felt like a blessing.
It was one of those rare moments when you feel both small and infinite—humbled by nature yet deeply connected to its beauty.
A Night to Remember
As night fell, fairy lights twinkled along the beach, children admired their sandcastles, and balloons floated against the darkening sky.
Sitting together with my family, I realized that holidays are not just about the destination, but about the bonds they strengthen.
That evening reminded me that happiness often lies in the simplest things—shared laughter, the sound of waves, and the joy of being present.
Travel holidays, in this sense, refresh the mind and broaden perspectives. Meeting new people, learning about cultures, and witnessing nature’s wonders make every trip unforgettable.
Even a short weekend getaway can feel like a grand festival if embraced with the right spirit.
Rest and Reflection: The Quiet Holidays
Not all holidays need noise and festivity. Some of the most beautiful holidays I have celebrated were quiet ones spent in solitude.
A good book, a steaming cup of tea, and an entire day without responsibilities is a luxury I deeply cherish.
These quiet holidays give me the space to reflect on my journey, gather strength, and return to daily life with clarity.
They remind me that holidays are not just about outward celebration, but also about self-love and inner peace.
Holidays Across Cultures
It is fascinating to observe how holidays are celebrated across the world. In Japan, “Golden Week” is a time for leisure and travel.
In the United States, Thanksgiving is all about gratitude, feasts, and family reunions.
In India, every state has its own festivals—Onam in Kerala, Baisakhi in Punjab, Durga Puja in Bengal—each filled with unique traditions.
These cultural holidays are living lessons about heritage and unity.
Participating in them reminds us of humanity’s diversity while also highlighting how joy and togetherness are universal.
Why Celebrating Holidays Matters
The true value of holidays lies in what they give us: time. Time to be with loved ones, time to discover ourselves, and time to enjoy life’s little wonders.
Celebrating holidays, no matter how, is essential because they balance the seriousness of life with joy.
They remind us that life is not only about work and obligations but also about laughter, colors, music, and celebration.
Finally, My Way of Celebrating
So, how do I celebrate holidays? In all possible ways! Sometimes I travel, sometimes I stay at home.
Sometimes I celebrate with a crowd, sometimes in the quiet company of myself.
But always, I celebrate with gratitude. Gratitude for the chance to pause, for the love of family, for the flavors of festive food, and for the beauty of the world around me.
Holidays are not just breaks—they are bridges to happiness.
Whether grand or simple, noisy or silent, traditional or modern, every holiday becomes a chapter in the story of our lives. And that, dear friends, is why I celebrate them wholeheartedly.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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What a drab question but today is more than special, I’m playing along. On second thought, it is apt for today.
When she paints herself – creativity at work
Nine years ago you entered our lives, unexpected, a miracle, a gift and a blessing. You are our greatest joy. We have watched you bloom season after season and how you are blooming my darling. We love your quirks, silly and mischief. And you’re learning to create with your hands. Watching your imagination unfold is a memory stamped in my heart. You are generous with your affection and you love lavishly. I pray these are traits that you will always hold on to. I pray that you grow in courage and boldness, you learn to be a voice for the voiceless and a defender for the defenseless. Above all, may wisdom be your portion, all the days of your life.
You trouble us plenty, but you wouldn’t be you without your tantrums .
Happy birthday heart of my heart
Look Up – A World Is Waiting
Look up, little girl – the world is wide and full of wonders. A sea whispering your name, waiting for you to discover and create.
Do not be afraid to run with the wind, to laugh out loud, to chase the sunlight every day, to dance and play until your heart is full.
Follow the stars – shimmering bright in the night. They can guide you to magical places and dreams beyond the sky.
Keep your eyes open, see the colors, hear the stories, so you won’t miss the adventures waiting just for you.
Open your heart to feel the warmth of unseen hands holding you close, and also not miss the quiet miracles waiting to greet you.
Learn to embrace the soft moments and the hard ones too, the laughter and the tears – they all help you grow.
Do not be afraid to dream big dreams, to believe in endless hope, and to reach for distant stars.
I pray you will walk where no one has gone, to pave a path where there is none.
The world is wide, the world is deep, and it is waiting for you to shine your light and awaken the magic within.
Go, make waves! my girl
This evening we celebrate our little girl. She’s having her closest friends over. Happy days!
New Daily Prompt: Have you ever taken a leap of faith? Did it succeed?
No.
Never have, never will.
Why?
I have no faith in the general population.
They’re idiots doomed to disappoint me.
Not that they’re adverse to leaps of faith.
The number of people every day who step into a crosswalk, right in front of me, without looking up from their phones, proves they are ardent believers.
Celebrating the kindness, courage, and strength of the poet, it shows how his presence comforts and inspires others, transforming struggles into wisdom and dreams into guiding lights.
At its heart, it reminds him that he brings brightness and hope to the world.
# Hello, Dear Vijay #
In your presence, the world feels at rest, Kindness and courage flow deep in your chest. No shadow can linger where your spirit shines, You turn even struggles to lessons divine.
Your path is marked with both sorrow and song, Yet strength in your heart has carried you along. Each dream that you hold is a star in the sky, Guiding your steps as the moments pass by.
The stories you carry are treasures untold, Of battles made gentle, of hearts you consoled. Your voice has a power—so steady, so true— It comforts the weary, gives hope to the few.
So rise every morning with faith in your way, For brighter horizons are born each new day. And know, dearest Vijay, wherever you go, The world is much brighter as you still glow.
I think last year I talked about the know-it-alls and the overly-confident-for-no-good-reason type of people. That does put me off. Really makes me wonder about people when they are as new to a situation as you are yet they talk as if they know everything about it. And it’s all BS.
Besides this, those people who completely lack self awareness, they boggle my brain. In the online course I’m taking, the Instructor often breaks us into small groups and we’re put in breakout rooms on Teams. Let’s say there’s three or four of us and we have fifteen minutes to discuss whatever it is.
Some people will start talking, and it’s usually the first or second one to pipe up, and rather than actually paying attention to the time remaining, they’ll monopolize the whole thing.
They don’t seem to care that in fifteen minutes we each should be getting some time to talk. Fifteen divided by four, do the math.
They don’t want to do math. They want to have the floor to themselves and try and impress the other three with how much they know.
And persons three and four, have fun, you get to divvy up the remaining forty-five seconds to say what you wanted to say.
If you could live forever, what is the one thing you would do?
Repeat prompt. Done. Pass.
My daughter asked me this question last night. I’m not sure where she heard it from. She stumped me, and I couldn’t answer her.
The question has been lingering in my mind. Try as I might, I still have no answer. First of all, do I really want to live forever? What will I do? Will I remain the same or continue to age? Will my body be healthy enough to withstand the ravages of time? What about a sound mind, will it still be intact? What about other people? Do they live along with me, or would I be the last person standing after watching more comings and goings than a revolving door?
Practically speaking, if the people who live alongside you are long gone, what’s the point of surviving beyond them? It would be a cycle of getting to know new people, building relationships, and watching them die, while I remain untouched. Can one really live through so much love and loss?
There’s also the question of our mental, emotional and psychological makeup. Does it change with every era or remain the same? Whether we evolve or stay the same person, can you imagine the different personalities one would be living through? And that brings me to another deeper question – who am I? After outliving everyone, I would probably be confused about who I truly am.
On the outrageous side, let’s say we live forever. Imagine if family (you like ) and friends live forever too! Life could actually be worth this infinite existence. We’d have all the time in the world to tick off every bucket list item, do all the crazy things and maybe become legendary for posterity . And who knows, keep discovering this self and the absurd things it’s capable of doing! That would be an adventure.
I can easily imagine some absurd scenarios. Shopping! Even the most die-hard shopper would tire of shopping. There’s only so much one can do. How many trends to outlive and how many fashion disasters can one go through?
What about paperwork? Would we have to keep renewing identity cards, licenses and what not? Do we really want to pay taxes forever? That might be the greatest dampener on any forever wish.
And then, imagine the secrets we’d have to keep. Who would even remember what happened a century ago? I doubt my half-functioning grey cells could keep up with all those memories.
I guess being the oldest aunt could be a real title! And the ‘wisdom’ I’d pass on would mostly be advice based on watching others’ mistakes rather than my own .
On the bright side, I’d be the poster child for tourism! I could casually visit different eras, dine with kings, leaders, rebels and revolutionaries, and get a front-row seat to watch history unfold .
I don’t know – but this question is raising thoughts I wouldn’t have entertained before. I often wonder about long life, reincarnation, what happens after death… but living forever? In this physical realm, with this frail and temporary body? I’ve never entertained that thought at all. Now, I find myself wondering – what would it be like to live forever, and do I even want to?
What if the soundtrack of life suddenly disappeared?
If silence ruled and songs were gone, The heart would ache, the days too long. But with each note, life finds its voice, In music’s rhythm, we rejoice.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is truly thought-provoking: “What would your life be like without music?”
At first glance, it may seem like a simple question, but when we pause and reflect, the thought of life without music feels almost unimaginable.
Music is not just sound—it is rhythm, emotion, therapy, connection, and sometimes even silence turned into art.
To envision a world without music is to picture a world stripped of one of its most powerful and universal languages.
Music: The Invisible Companion
From the moment we are born, music is woven into our existence.
A mother’s lullaby soothes her child, a national anthem fills hearts with pride, and even the soft hum of a worker at his craft becomes a comforting companion through the day.
Without music, these subtle yet profound experiences would vanish. Life would feel less colorful, less warm, and less connected.
We would still have words, but without melody and harmony, those words would lose their wings.
A World Without Emotional Echoes
One of the greatest gifts of music is its ability to mirror our emotions. A sad song consoles us in heartbreak, while a joyful tune lifts us out of despair.
Without music, we might struggle to express or process feelings that words alone cannot contain.
Imagine weddings without the gentle notes of a love song, festivals without drums and melodies, or birthdays without the cheerful chorus of voices singing together.
These occasions would still exist, but they would feel incomplete—like a painting without colors.
The Silence in Culture and Traditions
Every culture across the globe uses music as a thread that binds traditions, rituals, and identities.
Be it Indian classical ragas, African drumming circles, Western orchestras, or folk songs passed down through generations—music preserves history and carries forward the essence of a people.
Without music, how would stories of ancestors, victories, and struggles be told?
Festivals would lose their sparkle, rituals their charm, and humanity one of its oldest and richest forms of collective expression.
Music as Therapy and Healing
Science has confirmed what the heart has always known—music heals. From lowering stress levels to helping patients recover faster, music therapy is now a recognized field.
It soothes anxiety, boosts creativity, and brings harmony between body and mind.
In a world without music, people might feel lonelier in their struggles. Hospitals, meditation halls, and even everyday homes would lack the gentle background that so often brings hope and peace.
Creativity Without Music
Imagine cinema without background scores, advertisements without catchy jingles, or dance without rhythm.
Would stories on screen still move us as deeply without violins heightening emotions or drums building suspense? Would our childhood cartoons, morning prayers, or favorite playlists hold the same place in our memories?
A world without music would stifle much of human creativity, leaving artists, dancers, and even ordinary people searching for another way to fill the void.
My Personal Reflection
On a personal level, I cannot imagine my life without music. It has been a constant companion during my walks, reflections, and even my writings.
A song from my youth instantly transports me to forgotten moments—friends, laughter, struggles, and joys that shaped me.
Music makes solitude beautiful, celebrations grander, and ordinary days bearable. Without it, silence would grow heavier, and life’s journey would feel much longer.
One of my personal joys is playing the mouth organ. Whenever I feel low, I pick it up and play a tune. That simple act lifts my spirits, fills my heart with calm, and reminds me of the timeless comfort that music provides.
Interesting Facts and Insights
86% of users of Nordoff-Robbins music therapy services said that music therapy enabled them to develop social skills and better interaction.
Your heartbeat changes to mimic the rhythm of the music you listen to.
Even a developing fetus can distinguish changes in sounds.
Listening to happy versus sad music alters the way you perceive the world around you.
An “earworm” is that song you can’t seem to get out of your head.
A “brain itch” is when your mind craves to complete a song’s unfinished rhythm.
Music activates the same part of the brain that releases dopamine—the “pleasure chemical.”
Networks of neurons synchronize into organized movement when triggered by rhythm.
Learning a musical instrument improves fine motor skills, reasoning, and memory.
My final submission
So, what would life be like without music? It would be like a sky without stars, a garden without flowers, or a story without emotions.
The world would still go on, but with less joy, less connection, and far less meaning. Music is not just entertainment—it is a necessity that enriches every corner of our lives.
It binds humanity in a shared rhythm that transcends language, culture, and time.
Let us therefore celebrate music, not just as a pastime, but as a profound force that colors our days, heals our souls, and reminds us that life—in all its ups and downs—is a melody worth living.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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New Daily Prompt: Ever have an on again, off again project, where you’re urgently working on it, and then, unexpectedly, you aren’t? How do you get closure?
My current one is the stupid toilet.
The flow to the water tank stays stuck on, I fiddle with it, it still won’t shut off, I fiddle some more, it shuts off as designed.
Then the whole thing starts all over again a few days later.
It’s hard to get closure when you need to go to the bathroom but can’t…
Bridging the Generation Gap: A Path to Harmony
The topic of the generation gap is more relevant than ever, as we now see almost four generations coexisting in the same world.
With increased life expectancy, this phenomenon has both its advantages and challenges. The key to navigating these differences lies in mutual understanding, patience, and adaptability.
Understanding the Generation Gap
Age is just a number, but the sensitivity towards the age gap is crucial. Every generation has grown up in different circumstances, influenced by unique technological, cultural, and social changes.
While younger generations may be quick to adapt to modern advancements, the elderly often hold onto traditions that have shaped their values.
Bridging the gap requires an open mind. The younger generation should show respect and appreciation for the wisdom of the elders, while the older generation should be willing to embrace change rather than expecting others to conform to their ways.
The goal is simple: be happy and let others be happy.
Conflict is inevitable when different generations share the same space, but before reacting, we must pause and reflect.
A little patience, understanding, and communication can transform generational differences into a source of strength rather than division.
Just Enjoy Life
Life is a beautiful journey, and its meaning differs for everyone. Our perception of life changes with our state of mind.
Some days, life feels challenging and monotonous, while on other days, it feels full of joy and wonder. However, one fact remains constant—life is unpredictable.
We have no control over our birth, background, or even our final departure from this world. What we do control is how we utilize our time in between.
The choice is ours: dwell on the difficulties or embrace the beauty of life with gratitude. Enjoy every moment, for it is fleeting!
Write it. Draw it. Publish it.
My mission in life is not merely to survive but to thrive—with passion, compassion, humor, and style. Work plays a significant role in shaping our identity and purpose.
Steve Jobs once said, “Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Do not settle.”
After spending thirty-two years in banking, I have transitioned into a life where I channel my experiences, wisdom, and creativity into writing.
By the grace of Maa Goddess Kali, I am enjoying my retirement, dedicating my time to my blog and artistic pursuits. I invite you to explore my journey and thoughts at Retired Kalam.
Retirement: A New Beginning, Not an End
Retirement is often seen as a phase where one encounters challenges such as:
Health issues: Aging brings health concerns, but a disciplined lifestyle can help maintain well-being.
Financial adjustments: The shift from a steady income to a fixed budget requires planning and adaptation.
Family dynamics: Offering unsolicited advice can sometimes strain relationships with younger family members.
Social engagement: This is an opportunity to rebuild connections and participate in meaningful activities.
However, I believe retirement is not the end of the road but a new chapter waiting to be explored. With the right mindset, we can make the most of this phase and truly enjoy life.
True Love: A Story of Unwavering Devotion
Once upon a time, a young couple deeply in love decided to marry. Unfortunately, before the wedding, the bride suffered a tragic accident that left her face disfigured. Overcome with grief, she wrote to her fiancé:
“I can’t marry you anymore. My beauty is lost, and you deserve someone better.”
A few days later, she received a response from him:
“I have been diagnosed with an eye disease and will soon be blind. If you still want to be with me, I would be honored to marry you.”
They got married and lived happily for twenty years, with the wife as her husband’s guiding light. One day, she fell gravely ill and passed away, leaving him heartbroken.
As she was laid to rest, to everyone’s astonishment, the husband opened his eyes and revealed that he had never been blind.
“I pretended to be blind so that she wouldn’t suffer from the thought of me seeing her disfigured face. Love is not about physical beauty; it is about the heart.“
Moral:True love goes beyond appearance—it is felt with the heart.
A Note of Gratitude
I am deeply grateful to my readers who inspire and encourage me through their comments, likes, and shares.
Your support motivates me to continue writing and sharing my thoughts. Life is a journey, and together, we can make it more meaningful.
Have a wonderful day! Keep smiling and spreading positivity.
BE HAPPY….BE ACTIVE….BE FOCUSED….BE ALIVE…
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Between a breath and a pause You feel. Feel. Sense. Movement. Being. Life. Relentless. Aching. Unstoppable. Unshakeable. Stillness. Soft. Fierce. Awareness. Gratitude.
My ideal week would be a mix of selfishness and selflessness. Since I don’t like doing nothing, I’d have to be doing something.
Travel sounds good but just a quick trip, four days or so to the ocean or to the mountains.
I’d spend the rest of the time organizing a fundraiser of some sort where I can give back, using the time and resources I have. I suppose if I had to pinpoint a charity it would be mine of course. I’d spend the remaining days raising money for The Sidney Project so that I could purchase and send running shoes for the kids in school in Shamattawa.
Within the ideal week, I’d find time to walk, workout and do some yoga and also eating yummy food that I don’t have to cook myself.
This is us, off to a wedding on Saturday…Sid’s back there but you can’t see him and Cordelia was not here for it.
There is no such thing as an ideal week. That sounds too perfect, and perfection isn’t ideal. Not for me.
I would rather have life be a mish-mash of chaos and mess, woven together with pockets of silence and loud loving and living. Now that is an imperfectly perfect ideal week or life, whichever suits you.
I can’t help but compare this in-between world I’m in. When I was working, I would pass by this, what has now become a tourist attraction, called Dhobi Ghat. It’s a 140-year-old human-powered laundry service, reputedly the largest open-air laundry in the world. All the washing is done in the morning, starting at 4:30 AM and finishing by 10 AM. “Dhobi Ghat is an open-air laundry in Mumbai, India. It was constructed in 1890. The washers, known as dhobis, work in the open to wash clothes and linens from Mumbai’s hotels and hospitals.” (Source: Wikipedia).
Every morning I would walk past it, and many times I wished I had the luxury to stand and watch the rhythm unfold. You could hear the talking and shouting as men and women diligently washed clothes. There was a rhythm to it, a mesmerizing sight. Somehow, just watching them at work was calming, despite the surrounding noise of the bustling city. Tourists often gathered, admiring the choreographed movement of washing and beating clothes against stone.
In contrast, my hometown has this unusual gem. Nestled a few kilometres away from the heart of the city is Law Kyntang (Sacred Grove Forest), an ancient, untouched forest and spiritual center for the Khasi tribe and their deity, Labasa. Protected for centuries by local communities, its history is deeply rooted in Khasi culture. It served as a site for ceremonies and the anointment of leaders, marked by ancient monoliths. Today, it remains a symbol of traditional conservation, where taking anything from the forest is forbidden, and it continues to draw tourists and researchers.
The grove’s history is traced back to time immemorial and woven into the Khasi people’s traditions and customs. It is sacred ground, believed to be an abode of ancestral souls. Many stories and legends are associated with it. Throughout my childhood, we were told countless stories about the forest’s sacredness, that anyone who took even the smallest twig or leaf would be cursed with misfortune. And yet, that didn’t stop my mischievous mind from wondering if I could dare defy the warnings and see what would happen! I must admit, when I visited, I was tempted to take something, just to see if anything would happen. My mind is more than wonky, isn’t it? Legend says those who dared take something suffered illness, even death. But good sense prevailed, I didn’t lift anything. Even if nothing had happened, it would have been disrespectful. And yeah, I wasn’t ready to gamble with my life just yet .
Thanks to these conservation efforts, the grove is now a sanctuary for rare plants and unique mushrooms, as well as an important site for studying biodiversity.
Stepping inside the forest was like going back in time. As I strolled, I could feel the silence wrap around me. The trees were thick and branches intertwined, barely allowing sunlight to penetrate. I could hear various sounds, yet it felt as if an invisibility cloak smothered them. There was an eerie calmness about the place. One could lose themselves in the quiet noise and pervasive stillness. A solemnity lingered in the air. The trickle of water from flowing springs added a delicate melody. Wildflowers and orchids of many species dotted the forest floor.
I felt as though this could be where God meets man.
In an ideal world, I wish my days could be divided between the chaos and sounds of Dhobi Ghat and the tranquility and peace of the forest. That would be serenity within the storm.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is soul-stirring indeed: “Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.”
Life is a wise teacher, though it often reveals its lessons only after we’ve stumbled a few times.
When I reflect on my own journey, there are many small insights I could mention, but the one lesson I truly wish I had embraced much earlier is this: “Don’t postpone your happiness for the future; live in the now.”
The Myth of “Someday”
As a young student, I often thought, “I’ll be happy once I finish my exams.” Then, during my first job, it became, “I’ll be happy when I get a promotion.” Later, it turned into “I’ll enjoy life once I’ve saved enough money.”
It was always someday.
I remember once during college, a friend asked me to join a spontaneous road trip. I declined, thinking I needed to study harder and earn my fun later.
Ironically, I don’t even remember what I studied that weekend—but I still remember the photos they shared of sunsets, laughter, and long talks under the stars.
That was my first glimpse of how easily we trade present joy for an uncertain future.
Why We Delay Happiness
Society teaches us early on to measure life in milestones—graduation, job, marriage, house, retirement. Somewhere along the way, I absorbed the belief that joy must be “earned” through achievements.
But as the years passed, I noticed something: Every time I reached a milestone, the feeling of happiness was fleeting. Like water slipping through my fingers, it didn’t last. Soon enough, I was setting the next goal, postponing joy again.
It was as if I was running a marathon where the finish line kept moving.
A Quiet Awakening
The shift didn’t come suddenly—it grew slowly, like dawn breaking.
I once visited an old schoolteacher who lived in a modest home. She didn’t have much by material standards, yet her laughter filled the room.
Over tea, she told me, “Happiness is not in things, Vijay. It is in moments. People waste too much time waiting for life to get perfect.”
Her words stayed with me. I began noticing how the simplest things—my mother humming while cooking, the playful bark of a street puppy, the fragrance of wet soil after the first rain—held a quiet joy.
These were not grand achievements; they were gifts scattered along the path of daily life.
What I Learned
If only I had embraced this lesson earlier, I would have saved myself years of unnecessary restlessness. Still, I now practice small habits that bring me back to the present:
Gratitude: At night, I jot down three little joys from the day. It could be as simple as a kind word from a friend or the taste of hot samosas on a chilly evening.
Mindful pauses: I no longer rush through meals. I savor the flavor, the texture, the warmth. Even tea tastes different when you pay attention.
Saying yes more often: When friends or family suggest something spontaneous, I try not to overthink. Some of my best memories now are from those unplanned “yes” moments.
Letting go of perfection: Earlier, I waited for the perfect time to start writing, traveling, or even expressing love. Now I know the perfect time rarely comes—it is now.
The Ripple Effect
What surprised me most is how this lesson transforms relationships. When you are truly present, people feel it. Conversations become deeper, bonds stronger. Loved ones don’t want a future version of us; they want our attention today.
I sometimes imagine how my life might have been different if I had learned this sooner.
Perhaps fewer regrets, fewer missed sunsets, fewer “somedays.” But then again, maybe learning it late makes me cherish it more deeply now.
My Final Submission
So, dear friends, the lesson I wish I had learned earlier is simple yet profound: Happiness is not waiting for us in the future—it lives in the present moment.
If we keep postponing joy until the perfect job, house, or situation arrives, we may miss the real magic of living.
Life doesn’t begin tomorrow—it is happening now, in the laughter we share, the meals we enjoy, the hugs we give, the dreams we chase imperfectly.
So today, as you read this, pause for a moment. Breathe. Smile. Notice something around you that sparks even the tiniest joy. That is life whispering, “I’m here. Don’t miss me.”
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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All this recent talk about relaxation has forced me to face an uncomfortable truth:
Alien: Earth isn’t very good.
This new series, set in the Alien universe, is something I watch to relax Tuesday evenings after work.
I know. Horror to relax?
If you’ve been here awhile, you already know I’m not right in the head.
And I want to like it.
I really, really do.
Just as I wanted to like Alien: Romulus.
And Alien: Covenant.
And Prometheus.
And Alien: Resurrection.
And Alien 3.
And Aliens.
And Alien.
Well, I better have liked at least Alien, or what would be the point of my watching any of it?
Spoiler: I liked Alien.
I remember, as a preteen, watching a version of Alien my dad recorded off broadcast television.
(That is a broadcaster with balls, I’ll give them that.)
Waiting for Samuel Elias to die was an exercise in Pause / Play / Pause / Play on the VCR.
Probably took me ten minutes over the course of two days to get through that scene.
That’s how scary Alien was.
The TV version!
I saw the tale end of Aliens being played at a movie rental shop before I saw the whole movie. Those last ten minutes gave me nightmares for years.
I still have them, but they’re just deeply disturbing dreams now instead of full-fledged nightmares.
My take on Alien 3 isn’t the popular one. I like it. Yes, there are some major issues with the visual effects, but every time I watch it, I see another clever detail or moment of foreshadowing. It’s a throw back away from the action-heavy Aliens to the thick with tension and horror Alien. It disturbs you.
Alien: Resurrection? We don’t talk about that gloppy abomination.
And now we reach the point where the movies stopped being scary:
Prometheus? I don’t care how many bibles Ridley Scott swears on, it’s not an Alien movie.
Alien: Covenant? I just left the theater thinking, “Why was this made? Why is Scott intent on destroying the lore?!”
Alien: Romulus is a deeply flawed movie as well, but at the top of the heap of the crap sequels. So least worst follow-up?
And then we come to the new TV series, Alien: Earth.
I wanted this to be good. It had potential. I had some worries, but was willing to give Noah Hawley the benefit of the doubt.
In the end, it’s not scary. The xenomorph-hiding-in-plain-sight-in-the-shadows moments have been telegraphed well in advance, so I always see it coming before it even moves. And worse than not being frightening, it’s just weird! Characters make the usual stupid decisions over and over again, yes, but the story plot? It’s “Huh?” moment after “Huh?” moment.
[SPOILERS]
Blatant exposition dumping facts. In a clumsy “we want to get this out of the way fast” manner. At the start of the first episode!
Strangely behaving characters who end up dead before you can figure out why they behave that way.
The xenomorph has a serious drooling problem. Every attack is prefaced by drool coming down from above. Always onto the victim’s head. Oooh, I’m so scared!
Oh, this character can hear the aliens when no one else can! Why? For reasons! (To be fair, they may explain this, but I doubt I’ll like the explanation.)
Oh, this character can speak to the aliens when no one else can! Why? For reasons!
Oh, this character, because she can hear and speak to the aliens, wants to (and DOES!) pet a chestburster. Despite an earlier encounter where an alien killed a bunch of people, nearly killed her and brother, and traumatized her to the point of unconsciousness. Why? For reasons!
Maybe Noah Hawley can pull it off. Maybe the finale will be an explosion of amazing twists and explanations that leave me impressed and in awe rather than angry and disappointed.
But I doubt it.
If I was a betting man, I’d bet on minimal resolution and a cliffhanger ending.
So they get a second season.
I subscribed to Hulu for this show.
I’ll finish this season, and then unsubscribe.
And if there is a second season, I will not be subscribing for it.
Does she look scared to you? I’m just waiting for her to say, “Pull my finger.”
I love traveling by local train, the rhythm, the crowd, the chaos, it’s a way of life. But today was one experience I’d rather not relive. We saw an injured man being lifted away. Sadly, train accidents are far too common. People still jump on and off moving trains or cross the tracks recklessly. Add to that the daily scramble to squeeze into packed compartments as everyone chases time. But what’s the value of time if it puts one’s limb or even life, at risk?
Apart from that, it’s been a comparatively quiet Sunday. My little girl has been unusually calm, perhaps because her birthday is coming up. She’s learning that it’s not about grand celebrations but sharing the day with a few close friends that makes it special. It amazes me how quickly she’s growing. I only hope she never loses her sense of humor and mischief. Every day, she fills the house with stories and laughter, and I cherish the conversations we share.
Last night, while I was picking fish bones to prepare food for our cat, she looked at the fish and felt bad it had to die. Then she added, “But it sacrificed itself so it can be food for our cat!” . We had a hearty laugh.
Just the other day, while drinking water, she recalled the Bible story of the woman at the well – the one with many husbands whom Jesus offered “living water.” She goes on to say, how this water doesn’t quench her thirst because it’s not living water. She needs living water! I have no idea where this deep thought came from, but I’m grateful Sunday school and the shows she watches are leaving an impression. That said, she’s just as delightfully silly. With the rains pouring endlessly, she wondered, “If I fart, will the rain stop?”
She’s also picking up reading, which brings me so much joy. One of her gems, “Friends, I have become a bookworm! Please don’t make noise, or I’ll turn into book rage!”
And then, “Does my head hurt because I have a big brain?”
She’s environmentally conscious too. She feels sad when people litter and neglect their surroundings. She says she’d do anything for the environment, even die for it! Then she explained how her heart would turn into a seed and grow into a tree, and the leaves would shape the tree into a heart.
She’s also learning all the songs from the K-pop Demon Hunter movie, though she struggles with the Korean lyrics.
At times, she’s brutally blunt – telling me I look old or questioning my clothes because they don’t suit me or are too embarrassing for her tastes. I’m not a bad dresser, it’s the generation gap . She’s a little fashionista in the making!
One of the qualities I adore most is how she says we’re “twins” when we like or do similar things.
And today’s closing gem, “Make your smile. Don’t let the world change your smile.”
If one is destined for NASA, I wonder where the other one is headed for?
Name the professional athletes you respect the most and why.
There are quite a few but today is Sunday and I don’t feel this prompt as much. Moreover, rest day, says the Bible . However, here are songs which capture the spirit of sports – endurance, perseverance, hard work, never give up attitude and not to forget, the entertainment.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt truly excites me: “What are your favorite types of foods?”
At first glance, it may seem like a simple question—just list a few favorite dishes and be done with it. But food is never just about taste. It carries culture, memory, nourishment, and even identity.
When we talk about our favorite foods, we are really sharing stories—about who we are, where we come from, and how we connect with others.
Food as Comfort and Memory
For many people, their favorite foods are tied to childhood. I am no exception. A simple plate of dal, rice, and ghee still comforts me in ways no gourmet dish ever could.
It reminds me of evenings around the family table, where laughter, conversation, and love seasoned the meal just as much as the spices did.
Comfort food proves that flavor doesn’t always have to be elaborate. Sometimes, the familiar aroma of a dish prepared with care can soothe the soul more than the most expensive meal in the world.
Think about it—how often do we crave the foods that take us back to our roots? For some, it might be a grandmother’s soup; for others, a father’s barbecue. For me, it is the warmth of my mother’s cooking.
The Adventure of Street Foods
If comfort foods remind us of home, street foods awaken our adventurous side.
I clearly remember my days posted at the N.S. Road Branch. At lunchtime, a few colleagues and I would step out to a busy street lined with food stalls.
The options were endless—steaming plates of machhli-bhaat (fish and rice), piping hot chole bhature, crisp alu parathas.
The stall owners served with such warmth and care that it felt like dining at a fine restaurant, even though we were standing on a crowded lane.
The entire street was alive with flavors, aromas, and cheerful faces.
That experience taught me something—street food is more than affordability. it is vibrancy. It carries the pulse of a city, the laughter of its people, and the creativity of cooks who turn humble ingredients into masterpieces.
Whether it’s the tangy crunch of pani puri in India, sizzling kebabs in the Middle East, or soft dumplings in East Asia, street foods are little treasures of joy.
For me, they symbolize spontaneity, fun, and a sense of community.
The Elegance of International Cuisines
Beyond the comfort of home and the thrill of the street, I also enjoy exploring international cuisines. Food is, after all, the most delicious way to travel the world.
A slice of Italian pizza with its perfect balance of crust, cheese, and toppings, or a steaming bowl of Japanese ramen carefully layered with broth, noodles, and garnishes—each dish teaches me something new about another culture’s artistry and values.
Every cuisine is like a window into history. Indian curries reflect centuries of spice trade. Mediterranean food highlights the importance of olive oil, herbs, and fresh vegetables.
Mexican cuisine preserves the legacy of corn, beans, and chili that sustained civilizations. By tasting foods from different cultures,
We not only expand our palate but also honor traditions passed down through generations.
Healthy Foods and Conscious Choices
Now, in the peaceful stage of retired life, I have come to appreciate the role of healthy foods.
Fresh fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and proteins may not excite the senses like fried snacks, but they quietly protect our health.
Seasonal fruits are my favorite in this category. Juicy mangoes in summer, crisp apples in winter, and refreshing watermelon in the scorching heat—each fruit feels like nature’s gift.
Choosing healthy food doesn’t mean giving up flavor. A colorful salad with vegetables, nuts, and a light dressing can be just as enjoyable as any indulgent dish.
Over time, I’ve come to realize that foods that balance taste and nourishment leave me feeling light, energetic, and mentally clear.
Sweet Endings—Desserts that Delight
No journey through favorite foods is complete without desserts. Ah, the world of sweets! From the world-famous Rosgulla of Kolkata to the creamy richness of rasmalai or the delicate elegance of French pastries, desserts are symbols of joy and celebration.
Personally, I can never say no to a warm slice of chocolate cake—it lifts my spirits instantly.
A chilled bowl of kulfi, on the other hand, brings back memories of carefree summer evenings. Desserts, to me, represent not just sugar but happiness itself.
They remind us that life must always have a touch of sweetness.
Why This Question Matters
So, why is the question “What are your favorite types of foods?” so fascinating? Because it is not merely about eating—it is about storytelling.
Our answers reveal our journeys, preferences, and even personalities. Someone who enjoys experimenting with exotic dishes may have an adventurous spirit.
Someone who treasures simple meals may value tradition and stability. I recall my years in banking,
when I lived alone in remote parts of Rajasthan. The local foods I tasted there added richness to my life story. Even now, thinking of those experiences brings a smile to my face.
Food is universal yet deeply personal. It unites families, builds friendships, and adds meaning to our everyday routines. While our favorite foods may change over time, the joy they bring is eternal.
Final Submission
If I were to summarize, my favorite foods fall into five broad categories:
Comfort foods that remind me of home.
Street foods that bring adventure and community.
International cuisines that expand my horizons.
Healthy foods that nourish body and mind.
Desserts that add sweetness to life.
Each category connects me with a different part of myself and the world. When I say I love food, I mean I love the memories it evokes, the stories it tells, and the experiences it offers.
And now, dear friends, I would love to hear from you:
What comfort food reminds you of home?
Which street food takes you back to your younger days?
Have you ever tasted a dish from another country that changed your perspective?
Which fruit or healthy food makes you feel your best?
And finally—what dessert instantly brings a smile to your face?
Food connects us all, but the flavors of our memories make each journey unique. So tell me—what are your favorite types of foods, and what stories do they tell about you?
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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New Daily Prompt: Has anyone ever come back from a vacation or relaxing escape and have the healing tranquility last? Or doesit all come tumbling down as soon as they return?
I think those moments only put off the inevitable, and not by very long.
Vacations are always ruined by the realization of their impending end, and then they’re over, and things go back to how they were.
Or they get even worse.
So it’s time to accept reality, embrace fate, and stop all vacations and pleasurable activities.
They just tease us and fill us with false hope.
Misery is inevitable.
And inebriated, if autocorrect is to be believed…
Which reminds me. Now would be a good time to start drinking.
Got to experiment taking some photos of a waterfall. Curious to see how they turn out.
The nature setting wasn’t tranquil.
Some trailhead work with actual stone breaking. And the sounds of construction machinery unseen in the background.
A family with a screaming baby and an older child with a ‘walkie talkie’ that worked as a megaphone.
Hikers yelling in the distance.
Sigh…
And clueless idiots like the moron in the parking lot who trapped me in my car for a couple of minutes while he changed shoes and socks in his car, his door wide open and blocking my door.
But I didn’t let it get to me. I enjoyed myself despite the unwelcome distractions.
OK, maybe fantasizing about how I’d punish that moron and his ‘wardrobe’ change sustained me.
Just a little.
In my weaker moments.
But I generally felt better.
And on the drive home, I blasted Beethoven.
It was good.
Then I got home, and a brand new stressor burst forth.
Try as I might, I can’t have more than a few hours of peace these days…
Unlocking the Secret of Loneliness
Hello dear friends,
I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood.
Yes, friends, in the busy pace of life, there is a special experience—often overlooked and hard to understand—the world of loneliness.
Many people, especially the elderly, know this feeling. Their reasons for being alone can differ—health issues, money problems, or losing loved ones—but the feeling is deeply personal and significant.
As a retiree, I sometimes find myself grappling with loneliness. Life no longer dances to the vibrant rhythm of work, routine, and responsibility.
The wings of dreams feel clipped, not by lack of aspiration, but by the inevitable march of aging.
Physical constraints and financial limitations add their weight, making it harder to chase the joys that once seemed within reach.
A few days ago, I received heartbreaking news from a dear friend—he had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, with doctors predicting only three months of life remaining.
His loneliness stems not just from his illness but from the looming shadow of an uncertain future.
Our circle of friends rallied around him, offering words of encouragement, hoping to defy the doctor’s prognosis with the strength of will and the power of human connection.
But can companionship truly soothe the profound isolation that illness brings?
Loneliness is not merely the absence of company—it is a journey of self-discovery, a quest for connection that unfolds in unexpected ways.
Imagine a solitary wanderer navigating a crowded city street. To others, it is just another day, another passing face in a sea of movement.
Every footstep carries meaning
But to the lonely, every footstep carries meaning. The distant chatter becomes a story waiting to be unraveled, a fleeting glance an unspoken acknowledgment of existence.
In this dynamic world, loneliness can be a catalyst for exploration. A lonely soul often seeks solace in nature—the whispering wind through rustling leaves, the golden hues of the setting sun reflecting off tranquil waters.
Each moment of solitude transforms into an intimate conversation with the universe, an unraveling of life’s mysteries.
The lone traveler on a mountain path is not merely climbing; they are ascending towards a deeper understanding, shedding the distractions of civilization to hear the heartbeat of the Earth.
A person becomes an artist
Yet, the most profound journeys of the lonely are those within. Solitude offers a vast canvas for introspection—a silent dialogue with the self.
The mind becomes an unexplored territory, brimming with thoughts, dreams, and memories. In these moments, the lonely person becomes an artist, weaving intricate tapestries of imagination, sketching landscapes of desire and fear.
They confront their demons and embrace their angels, sculpting their identity with the chisel of experience.
Loneliness is not devoid of emotion
Yes, Loneliness is not devoid of emotion—it is a tempest of feelings, each raindrop carrying a poignant memory or a flicker of hope.
The lonely heart beats with intensity, yearning for connection. In this symphony of longing, every note resonates with a deep-seated desire to belong, to be understood.
A simple act of kindness—a smile from a stranger, a gentle word—becomes a beacon of warmth, momentarily bridging the chasm of solitude.
But loneliness is also a teacher
An alchemist of the soul. In the crucible of isolation, vulnerabilities are exposed, yet strengths are refined.
The lonely individual does not emerge broken but tempered, their resilience forged by the fire of experience. Courage becomes their weapon against the shadows, and wisdom their guide.
To truly understand loneliness is to embrace its paradox. In solitude, one finds connection; in absence, presence.
The lonely are not lost but anchored in the depths of their own being. Their journey is not one of despair but of profound self-discovery—a pilgrimage of the heart that seeks connection beyond mere physical proximity.
For those fortunate enough to witness this world, empathy becomes the bridge. To see beyond solitude is to recognize the shared humanity that binds us all.
Loneliness is not a curse
Loneliness is not a curse but an invitation—an opportunity to embrace the complexity of existence and to cherish the fleeting beauty of connection.
In the grand tapestry of life, the lonely are not isolated threads but vibrant hues, adding depth and richness to the human experience.
Their world beckons—a realm of resilience and introspection, where solitude is not a burden but a companion on the path of self-awareness.
So, let us embark on this journey—not as mere observers but as fellow travelers, seeking to understand and connect.
Together, we can unravel the mysteries of existence, one shared moment at a time.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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Hello dear friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is a question that might look simple, but it carries a world of meaning: “How often do you walk or run?”
At first, it may sound like a casual lifestyle inquiry, but pause for a moment and think—when was the last time you truly enjoyed a refreshing walk or felt the thrill of a good run?
The answer to this question reveals a great deal about how we live, how we value health, and even how we nurture our minds.
Why Walking and Running Matter
Walking and running are not new fads. They are as old as humanity itself. Our ancestors walked and ran out of necessity—hunting, gathering, migrating.
Today, while technology has given us convenience, it has also stolen away the natural movement our bodies are designed for.
So when we ask ourselves, “How often do I walk or run?” what we’re really asking is: “Am I giving my body the activity it longs for?”
A Gift for the Body
Science has plenty to say about the benefits:
A brisk walk strengthens the heart, improves digestion, and melts away stress.
Running builds stamina, keeps weight in check, and strengthens bones and muscles.
Both improve circulation, boost energy, and lower risks of chronic illness.
But beyond the science, walking and running make us feel alive.
Think about that slight sweat on your forehead, the fresh air filling your lungs, and the rhythm of your steps—it’s not just exercise, it’s life flowing through you.
A Gift for the Mind
Have you ever noticed how a walk can calm you down after a stressful day? Or how running clears the mental fog and brings sudden clarity? That’s the magic of movement.
Walking slows you down enough to notice little details—a flower blooming, a child laughing, a breeze whispering.
Running, on the other hand, pushes you into a zone where the mind becomes quiet, and the world narrows down to just you and your breath.
Both are powerful medicines for the soul, helping with stress, anxiety, and even creative blocks.
Many writers, thinkers, and leaders throughout history have used long walks to spark ideas and solutions.
The Excuses We All Make
Now, here’s where honesty comes in. How often do you walk or run? If your answer is “not often,” you’re not alone. We all make excuses:
“I don’t have time.”
“The weather is too hot or too cold.”
“I’ll start next week.”
But let’s be truthful—walking needs no gym, no equipment, no perfect weather. Running only asks for a decent pair of shoes and a little determination.
The real challenge is not the activity—it’s convincing ourselves to begin.
Building a Habit Step by Step
If you rarely walk or run, don’t feel guilty. Instead, start small.
Begin with a 10-minute walk every day after dinner.
Gradually increase it to 20 or 30 minutes.
Once comfortable, try a light jog on alternate days.
Make it fun—walk with a friend, listen to music, or explore new paths.
Small, consistent steps soon grow into a lifestyle. And one day you’ll notice—you don’t walk or run because you “have to,” but because you want to.
Walking and Running as Connection
There’s also a social and even spiritual side to this. Evening family walks become moments of bonding. Morning joggers in the park greet each other with smiles that turn strangers into friends.
Spiritually, walking feels like a conversation with nature, while running often feels like a conversation with yourself. Each step is a reminder that you are alive, present, and capable.
My Personal Take
Whenever I reflect on this question, “How often do you walk or run?”, I don’t take it as judgment—I take it as an invitation.
On the days I walk, my mood is brighter and my thoughts clearer. On the days I run, I feel like I’ve broken free from invisible chains.
Both experiences remind me that movement is not just exercise—it’s gratitude in action. Gratitude for the body, for health, and for the simple ability to move.
A Gentle Challenge
So, dear friends, I leave you with a gentle challenge. Ask yourself honestly: How often do I walk or run? And if the answer is “not much,” let today be your new beginning.
Step outside. Walk to the corner of your street. Run for just one minute. It doesn’t matter how small—it matters that you start.
Because every step you take is more than exercise. It’s a celebration of life itself.
Now I’d love to hear from you—how often do you walk or run?
Share your habits, struggles, or even your favorite walking/running memories in the comments below. Let’s inspire each other to keep moving!
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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If your weekend had a personality, who or what would it be?
This weekend’s personality? Totally lazy!
It’s been non-stop rain since last night, and honestly, I’m not mad about it. No plans to step out, so I’m happily wrapped in blankets, scrolling, snacking and letting the rain do its thing. Let those who dare brave the rain and grime go for it. Me? I’m sharing body and soul with this cozy laziness. Even my thoughts are lazy, they barely move!
Of course, my weekend can’t be lazy all the time. If it stayed like this every week, nothing would get done, and life would probably collapse under the weight of too much lounging. So my weekend’s personality changes depending on how wild the week’s been.
Some weekends it’s chaotic, bouncing off the walls, laughing too loud and eating like there’s no tomorrow. Because who doesn’t appreciate a little havoc? After all, life without a bit of mess, madness and mischief would be dull and sterile. Where’s the thrill? Where’s the joy in breathing if nothing ever goes a little sideways?
A lazy weekend paired with rain also means snacking like it’s the apocalypse. As if this is the final stash of everything fried that will keep us going until… wherever it is we’re supposed to survive! We pile up plates like warriors preparing for battle, except our battlefield is the couch, endless TV and our armor is stretchy pants.
Filling our tummies takes priority over everything else, especially the expanding waistline. But fashion genius kicks in! Why fear the extra inches when elasticated waists, oversized tees and breathable fabrics exist to save us? These clothes are tactical gear, designed to forgive and forget, built for binge-watching marathons and spontaneous naps without judgement. Heck, they can even be called ‘strategic outfits.’ After all, weekends aren’t about conquering the world, they’re about conquering comfort.
So yes, this weekend is lazy… for now. But it’ll switch gears soon enough. Someone’s got to keep the balance between chaos and calm, otherwise, what’s the fun in living?
Hello dear friends, I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is a question that might look simple, but it carries a world of meaning: “How often do you walk or run?”
At first, it may sound like a casual lifestyle inquiry, but pause for a moment and think—when was the last time you truly enjoyed a refreshing walk or felt the thrill of a good run?
The answer to this question reveals a great deal about how we live, how we value health, and even how we nurture our minds.
Why Walking and Running Matter
Walking and running are not new fads. They are as old as humanity itself. Our ancestors walked and ran out of necessity—hunting, gathering, migrating.
Today, while technology has given us convenience, it has also stolen away the natural movement our bodies are designed for.
So when we ask ourselves, “How often do I walk or run?” what we’re really asking is: “Am I giving my body the activity it longs for?”
A Gift for the Body
Science has plenty to say about the benefits:
A brisk walk strengthens the heart, improves digestion, and melts away stress.
Running builds stamina, keeps weight in check, and strengthens bones and muscles.
Both improve circulation, boost energy, and lower risks of chronic illness.
But beyond the science, walking and running make us feel alive.
Think about that slight sweat on your forehead, the fresh air filling your lungs, and the rhythm of your steps—it’s not just exercise, it’s life flowing through you.
A Gift for the Mind
Have you ever noticed how a walk can calm you down after a stressful day? Or how running clears the mental fog and brings sudden clarity? That’s the magic of movement.
Walking slows you down enough to notice little details—a flower blooming, a child laughing, a breeze whispering.
Running, on the other hand, pushes you into a zone where the mind becomes quiet, and the world narrows down to just you and your breath.
Both are powerful medicines for the soul, helping with stress, anxiety, and even creative blocks.
Many writers, thinkers, and leaders throughout history have used long walks to spark ideas and solutions.
The Excuses We All Make
Now, here’s where honesty comes in. How often do you walk or run? If your answer is “not often,” you’re not alone. We all make excuses:
“I don’t have time.”
“The weather is too hot or too cold.”
“I’ll start next week.”
But let’s be truthful—walking needs no gym, no equipment, no perfect weather. Running only asks for a decent pair of shoes and a little determination.
The real challenge is not the activity—it’s convincing ourselves to begin.
Building a Habit Step by Step
If you rarely walk or run, don’t feel guilty. Instead, start small.
Begin with a 10-minute walk every day after dinner.
Gradually increase it to 20 or 30 minutes.
Once comfortable, try a light jog on alternate days.
Make it fun—walk with a friend, listen to music, or explore new paths.
Small, consistent steps soon grow into a lifestyle. And one day you’ll notice—you don’t walk or run because you “have to,” but because you want to.
Walking and Running as Connection
There’s also a social and even spiritual side to this. Evening family walks become moments of bonding. Morning joggers in the park greet each other with smiles that turn strangers into friends.
Spiritually, walking feels like a conversation with nature, while running often feels like a conversation with yourself. Each step is a reminder that you are alive, present, and capable.
My Personal Take
Whenever I reflect on this question, “How often do you walk or run?”, I don’t take it as judgment—I take it as an invitation.
On the days I walk, my mood is brighter and my thoughts clearer. On the days I run, I feel like I’ve broken free from invisible chains.
Both experiences remind me that movement is not just exercise—it’s gratitude in action. Gratitude for the body, for health, and for the simple ability to move.
A Gentle Challenge
So, dear friends, I leave you with a gentle challenge. Ask yourself honestly: How often do I walk or run? And if the answer is “not much,” let today be your new beginning.
Step outside. Walk to the corner of your street. Run for just one minute. It doesn’t matter how small—it matters that you start.
Because every step you take is more than exercise. It’s a celebration of life itself.
Now I’d love to hear from you—how often do you walk or run?
Share your habits, struggles, or even your favorite walking/running memories in the comments below. Let’s inspire each other to keep moving!
New Daily Prompt: Ever had a health scare? Were you disappointed when it turned out to be nothing, and you had to continue living your miserable existence?
Every day, and yes.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m out of breath and experiencing shooting pains in my left arm.
It’s late here and probably almost time for the next day’s prompt to roll over and show its face. But I don’t want to let two days go by without writing.
Words I over use and need to drop in the trash can include “just”, “annoying” and “amazing”. Ughhh gag me with a spoon.
This week has been exhausting. Besides my baby boy starting Kindergarten, I also started school this week, actually the same day as Sid did. Both the class I teach and the course I’m a student of started yesterday.
Sid did great at Kindergarten so that was a huge relief.
Also my in-laws are here for my step-daughter’s wedding tomorrow so I had to spend a few evenings this week cleaning, in anticipation of the coming here.
Taz came home from BC and Bella-Lena came home from Winnipeg so house is full. Which I do love, it’s just on top of everything else going on and an assignment due Sunday at midnight, which I haven’t even started, I feel like I’d like to run away.
I’m not saying I would run away, I’m just saying if I was out for a walk and a white van pulled over, I’d jump in.
Be Happy and Be Healthy
Hello dear friends, I hope this Blog finds you in a cheerful mood.
Friends, Good health is one of the greatest blessings of life. Almost everyone wishes to stay healthy, yet only a few of us truly take the necessary steps to maintain it.
Often, we neglect our bodies and minds until illness strikes. The truth is, by following a few simple practices and developing conscious habits, we can prevent many diseases and live a balanced, fulfilling life.
Health, however, is not merely the absence of disease. It is a holistic state where the body, mind, and spirit are in harmony.
To call ourselves “healthy,” we must be able to face the physical, emotional, and social challenges of life with resilience.
Let’s explore how happiness and health are interconnected, and how both can be nurtured with some timeless yet practical measures.
The Power of Restful Sleep
If you want to enjoy refreshing sleep, avoid taking your worries to bed. Instead of worrying at night, reflect on positive thoughts, prayers, or gratitude.
Stress and anxiety disrupt our sleep, which over time leads to many health problems.
Deep, restful sleep rejuvenates the body, sharpens the mind, and strengthens the immune system. Happiness, too, begins with a fresh mind that wakes up energized.
Nourishment and Digestion
The root of many illnesses lies in a weak digestive system. Eating meals on time and chewing every bite thoroughly (ideally 32 times) allows food to digest properly.
It ensures that nutrients are absorbed properly. Healthy digestion not only strengthens the body but also uplifts the mind, preventing fatigue, irritability, and lethargy.
Remember, a fit stomach is often the first step toward a happy heart.
Breaking Myths: Food and Lifestyle Choices
A common misconception is that consuming meat, eggs, or alcohol adds strength and joy. The truth is, while they may make the body bulky or give temporary excitement, they also open doors to lifestyle-related diseases.
True strength lies in a disciplined diet and mindful living. Alcohol, for instance, does not bring real happiness—it only numbs the senses and weakens health in the long run.
Equally important is moderation. Just as overspending beyond one’s means leads to debt, overworking the body, overeating, or overindulgence in pleasures can quickly exhaust health and vitality. Balance is the foundation of wellness.
Simple Habits for Everyday Health
Eat and rest peacefully: Never eat or sleep with a mind full of anger, grief, or stress. Calmness ensures that food nourishes rather than harms the body.
Maintain hygiene: Wash hands before meals, clean your face, and wash your feet before sleep—small rituals that protect both health and inner peace.
Adopt the golden three: Wake up early and take a refreshing walk in the fresh morning air; eat on time and chew your food well; and make sure to attend to nature’s calls regularly. These three cost nothing yet provide lasting benefits.
Mental Health: The Core of Happiness
A healthy mind is as important as a healthy body. Mental health means emotional stability, resilience, and the ability to cope with life’s ups and downs without losing balance.
It allows us to express our feelings honestly and live harmoniously with others.
Ways to maintain good mental health include:
Cultivating cheerfulness and peace of mind.
Practicing self-satisfaction and gratitude.
Avoiding inner conflicts, jealousy, anger, or fear.
Keeping distance from stress, depression, and negativity
Speaking kindly, controlling speech, and avoiding unnecessary conflicts.
Leading a life of contentment rather than selfishness.
Developing compassion, service, and balance even in difficult times.
When the mind is happy, the body naturally feels lighter and healthier. Happiness and health are two sides of the same coin.
Spiritual Health: Finding Meaning in Life
Beyond body and mind lies the spirit. Spiritual health gives us purpose, clarity, and connection with something greater than ourselves.
It is about living by our values, nurturing compassion, and practicing self-control.
Some practices that promote spiritual health include:
Developing a spirit of service and goodwill for others.
Practicing yoga and pranayama regularly.
Living with integrity and exercising control over desires.
Reducing attachment to material possessions and focusing on inner peace.
A spiritually healthy person experiences joy not only in comfort but also in simplicity.
Signs of True Health
How do you know you are truly healthy? Here are a few indicators:
You feel hungry at the right time, and digestion is smooth
Waste elimination is regular and natural.
The body feels light, energetic, and full of vitality.
The senses and the mind remain cheerful.
You sleep peacefully at night and wake up refreshed at dawn.
If any of these aspects are missing, it is a sign that corrective steps are needed.
Protect Your Health to Protect Happiness
The Golden Rule:
All pleasures of the world can only be enjoyed with a healthy body and mind. Wealth, success, and relationships lose their charm if we are burdened with illness.
That is why it is said: “The first wealth is health, and the first happiness is a disease-free body.”
So, if you seek joy, avoid actions that cause pain. If you desire happiness, protect your health.
With regular exercise, wholesome food, emotional balance, and spiritual practices, you can create a life that is not only healthy but also deeply fulfilling.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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The Seven Sisters Waterfalls, Sohra (back home)
Love is felt In the gentle breeze blowing, the warmth of the early morning sun as it kisses your face, the moonlight that makes you dream of distant wishes, the twinkling stars that play hide and seek as you trace their path.
It’s in the beauty of the flowers that clothe our surroundings, in the rustling of the leaves that tickle our senses, in the sounds of the soft flowing streams and thunderous waterfalls.
In the lofty mountains that show us they are unshakable and strong, or the valleys that wind into paths we would never have discovered.
Love is in the unseen, the mystery, the untrodden path, the questions without answers, the silence that still holds meaning, the waiting that turns into finding.
Love is simply the air we breathe.
We are so used to think of love only in terms of human connection, we fail to notice it in the rhythm of nature and the unseen mysteries of life. Nature invites us to pause and notice how love is present in the small, fleeting details – the breeze, the rustling leaves, the starlit sky, as much as in the vast, unshakable mountains. It also acknowledges love’s mystery, found in the untrodden paths and uncertainties of life. At its heart, love is both grounding and infinite, as essential and present as the air we breathe.
It ticks me off to see Bill Gates normalize Donald Trump by bending the knee with his foundation and lending his gravitas to bullshit conference on AI. Even Elon has balls to stay true to his bizaro world view principles. Shame on Bill as the administration protection from AI for consumers is nonexistant. Hell they […]
A Teacher’s Day Reflection
Teachers can shape futures, ignite passions, and change lives. A great teacher is far more than just an educator; they are a guide, a mentor, and a catalyst for growth.
On this Teacher’s Day, when we celebrate the individuals who mold us into who we are, I can’t help but reflect on my own journey with teachers.
Yes, I had a teacher. But not in the way you might think. Forget everything you know about teachers: textbooks, chalkboards, exams, and classrooms. My most influential teacher wasn’t a professor in a formal setting, nor a strict gym coach barking orders.
My greatest lessons came from a force far more powerful: my mother.
She was never on the school payroll, but her wisdom and influence dwarfed anything I ever learned within four classroom walls.
From the very moment I entered this world, she was there—a whirlwind of strength, resilience, and unconditional love.
The World Threw Punches, Mom Threw Back Love
Life was never easy for her. She faced hardships that could have broken even the strongest of spirits. Imagine shouldering responsibilities that would make Atlas himself tremble, yet never once did she surrender.
She was a warrior in a simple house dress, her unwavering spirit a beacon guiding me through the darkest storms. Where others might have given up, she fought back with courage and grace.
And in doing so, she taught me something no textbook could ever capture: love is the strongest weapon of all.
Her Struggles Became My Strength
Every storm she endured wasn’t just survival—it became a lesson. She never lectured in the traditional sense. Instead, she used life itself as her blackboard.
When finances were tight, she taught me the value of resilience.
When society judged, she taught me the strength of dignity.
When sacrifices had to be made, she showed me what unconditional love truly looks like.
Every hardship was transformed into a teachable moment. Her life was the curriculum, and perseverance was the subject she mastered.
Success Redefined: Beyond Trophies and Titles
The world often defines success by titles, accolades, and possessions. But my mother painted an entirely different picture. To her, success wasn’t about climbing ladders of status or wealth.
Her definition of success was deeply human:
Raising her children with courage.
Instilling in them the strength to rise above circumstances.
Teaching them to dream, even when the world seemed dark.
Her legacy wasn’t medals or certificates—it was love, grit, and determination. And that legacy still fuels my journey today.
Her Lessons Echo Through Time
Although she has now departed to her heavenly abode, her presence remains unshakable in my life. Her words echo in my heart.
Her teachings are the wind beneath my wings, propelling me forward when doubt creeps in, anchoring me when storms try to shake me.
Every decision I make, every challenge I face, carries a fragment of her guidance. It’s as if she continues to mentor me silently, her spirit woven into the fabric of my life.
Mom, My Guiding Light
Mom, you were my first teacher, my best teacher, and the one who taught me the truest meaning of education. You didn’t teach me formulas or grammar rules first—you taught me how to be human.
You showed me that resilience is greater than defeat. That kindness is never weakness. That love has the power to transform even the bleakest of circumstances.
With every step I take, I carry forward the lessons you instilled—threads of courage and compassion that brighten my way.
What Makes a Teacher Great?
On this Teacher’s Day, let’s step back and redefine what makes a teacher truly great. Beyond classrooms and curriculums, great teachers share certain timeless qualities:
Passion for Teaching – A great teacher’s enthusiasm is contagious, inspiring curiosity in every learner.
Empathy and Understanding – They see students not as numbers but as individuals with unique strengths and struggles.
Adaptability – Great teachers adjust their methods to reach every learner, no matter the challenge.
Lifelong Learning – They never stop growing, and in doing so, they model the joy of discovery.
Strong Communication – Great teachers make the complex simple and listen as much as they speak.
Encouraging Critical Thinking – They don’t hand out answers but guide us toward finding our own.
Inspiration and Motivation – They light fires within us that burn long after school is over.
Building Relationships – The heart of teaching is connection, rooted in respect and trust.
When we see teaching through this lens, we realize that the title of “teacher” doesn’t belong only to those in classrooms. Mothers, fathers, mentors, and even life itself can embody these qualities.
Yes, My Mother, My Best Teacher
Every person needs a teacher to become a good human being. Throughout my life, I have learned from many mentors, guides, and educators.
But if I had to choose the greatest teacher of all, it would always be my mother.
Though she has departed this world, her lessons continue to illuminate my journey. She remains my eternal guiding light, shaping not just my understanding of success but my entire outlook on life.
On this Teacher’s Day, let us celebrate not just the teachers in classrooms, but also the unsung teachers—the mothers, the mentors, the friends—whose lessons live on in us forever.
So I ask you: Who was your most unexpected teacher? Share your stories, and let’s honor the incredible souls who shape us into who we are.
To all teachers—formal or informal—thank you for lighting the way.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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I came across this question from a book, online. I thought this is interesting and also has the potential of offending many people, if not answered correctly . I think this is a loaded question and a tricky one. I’ve had enough practice offending people, I could take a shot again .
Jokes aside, I’m genuinely thinking this question through and scanning my mind for all the people I’ve met, those I remember at least. Quite a few have been significant. They were instrumental in my growth and shaping my life. Some have added value, beauty, goodness, friendship, joy, truth, positive challenges and so much to my life, while a few have been hard and painful lessons. They taught me about deception, disappointment and the sharp edge of trust when it breaks. They showed me how people can love you one day and wound you the next. They forced me to face my own weaknesses, boundaries I didn’t know I needed and the strength I didn’t know I had. Some left scars, but even scars tell you where healing has taken place. Some came for a season, to add laughter, meaning and experience the fullness of life. While some were wasted space. Of course, you don’t realize it in those moments. Only hindsight teaches you what you were unwilling or too blinded to see then.
Then there were those who came just for the fun and pleasure of a young life, while finding herself and understanding her place in this universe.
Among all the people who have crossed my path, I won’t deny many were forgettable ones. It was as though they came just to reveal to me a version of myself I would’ve never known. Should I be grateful? Of course. Otherwise I would have not found what I am capable of, both the good and the bad.
As I contemplate this question, a painful thought emerges. I know it says, “everyone I’ve met.” For me, I may have technically not met them, but I did – in my heart and spirit. So I don’t have just one person, but more. This is difficult, as I’ve never voiced it out at all. The ones for me are those who never had the chance to walk this earth. Among everyone else, I would gravitate to them. I feel they’d be standing right beside all these physical people, past and present. They too would be flesh and blood. Though I’ve not seen them, yet I know them. My heart knows them. And I hope we’d get to talk – that I would get to know them, understand the life I missed being a part of, and tell them about this one.
And I hope they understand… their absence was never my choice.
Maybe the point of this question isn’t just about who we’d look for first, but about what, or who, has truly shaped us. For me, it isn’t only the people I’ve known in flesh and blood, but also the unseen ones who have quietly left their imprint in my soul. In the end, I think I’d look for them, because sometimes love begins even before life does.
I’m not sure what to make of this weather. When it rains it is lovely cool weather. A little bit of dryness and we need the fan. I should not complain and instead cherish the unpredictability because once the rains are over, I cannot imagine the heat. Only five months left for the year to end. Can someone tell me where did half of the year go? I’ve not done anything and soon I’ll have to push the restart button. I think we’ve been cheated.
The past few days I seem to hear only about deaths. I read about the young 30-something Microsoft employee who passed away at his workplace. The next day I read of another 30-something doctor who collapsed while doing his ward rounds. Last night my husband told me about a 12-year-old boy killing his classmate in school, somewhere up North. Though I was curious I didn’t have the heart to hunt the news. It’s traumatic enough as it is. That’s why I avoid the news or going through social media.
What is happening though? What is wrong with the world, with us? Have we become numb to grief, scrolling past tragedies like headlines that barely touch us? Have our lives become so hurried that we forget how fragile breath really is? Or is it simply that death has always been this close, and only now do I have the ears to hear it, the eyes to notice it?
The sad news does not end here. Earlier today, a classmate from school informed the school group that our classmate was deteriorating. She has cancer. Then my friend’s mother-in-law with the autoimmune illness was moved to the ICU. Apparently, the doctors say she has days to live. A friend back home just lost his Dad.
I am feeling the weight of life, and it is heavy. At the moment, it is not pretty, sunshine and rainbows. It feels more like imbalance, the scales tipping violently on one side. It is despair, gloom, unyielding and obstinate. The weight presses down like a sodden cloak, suffocating, clinging to the skin. Its edges are jagged, scraping against the soul, leaving cuts too fine for the naked eye yet deep enough to ache. It is like fabric being torn apart, the grating sound sharp and merciless, threads snapping one by one until all that remains are frayed ends fluttering in the wind.
Is it flexing? Why do I feel it’s gloating? Trying to show how strong and mighty it is? That we are at its mercy? Whatever it is, I feel its cruelty. And it is a cruelty none of us need. But, we live. We rise. We move on. Because, there is no alternative.
I believe in some blending of hope and sunshine sweetening the worst lots. I believe that this life is not all; neither the beginning nor the end. I believe while I tremble; I trust while I weep. — Charlotte Brontë, Villette
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood because today, we are diving into a surprisingly fun and surprisingly deep question: “What’s your favorite word?”
Yes, you heard that right—a single word. At first, it might sound a little silly. After all, how can just one word capture your personality, your dreams, or even your quirks?
But the more you think about it, the more you realize this is one of the most intimate questions you can ask someone.
Just imagine:
Words aren’t just letters we put together. They are tiny bursts of magic. They have personalities, moods, even a rhythm.
Some are soft, like a whisper, while others bang on the door of your attention.
When we choose a favorite word, we aren’t just picking a sound we like—we are picking something that resonates with our heart, our mind, and sometimes even our soul.
Let’s start with something simple: the word serendipity. Isn’t it wonderful just to say it out loud? Serendipity! It rolls off the tongue like a gentle wave.
And its meaning—finding something wonderful by pure luck—is just as delightful. Imagine walking down a street and accidentally discovering a tiny bookstore filled with forgotten treasures.
That’s serendipity. Some people fall in love with words like this because they remind them to look for little joys in unexpected places.
In another instance, consider a word like ‘giggle’. Light, playful, utterly contagious. It brings to mind children, rain puddles, or even an awkward moment turned funny with the right company.
Some words are just Magical
Some words just sound like the feeling they describe, and that’s pure magic. Words like murmur, flutter, or twinkle make our imagination dance, even if we don’t notice it consciously.
Your favorite word might also reveal a little secret about who you are. Someone who loves wanderlust is probably a dreamer with a backpack and a heart full of maps.
A person enchanted by solace may cherish quiet moments, perhaps a cup of tea by the window or a stroll in the park at sunset. Words can be playful, poetic, or profound, but they always tell a story—your story.
And then there are the words that feel like a warm hug. Words like hope, courage, or resilience aren’t flashy, but they hold weight. They remind us of who we are on our tough days and what we’re capable of.
Personally, if I had to choose one, I’d go with resilience.
There’s something quietly heroic about it. It doesn’t shout or demand attention, but it says everything about moving forward, bouncing back, and finding strength even when life gets messy.
Favorite words are also wonderfully contagious. When someone tells you their favorite word, you begin to see the world through their lens.
You might discover that a friend loves luminous because they are drawn to light and beauty in everything, or that another adores ephemeral because they notice the magic in fleeting moments.
Sharing favorite words becomes a bridge—connecting hearts, sparking curiosity, and even igniting laughter.
Here’s the playful part:
There’s no wrong answer. Your favorite word could be a real word, a made-up word, or even a word that simply feels right when you say it.
It could be a word from another language that has no exact translation in your mother tongue. That’s the beauty of it—language is vast, and our choices are uniquely personal.
So, I invite you to pause today and think:
If you had to pick just one word that makes you smile, think, or feel alive, what would it be? Don’t overthink it—let your heart answer.
Say it out loud, savor it, maybe even write it somewhere you can see every day. Because your favorite word is not just a word—it’s a tiny reflection of your inner world, your personality, and the way you touch life.
Lastly, I can say that words are more than just letters or sounds. They are tiny companions on our journey, carrying meaning, memory, and magic wherever we go.
So, dear friends, let’s celebrate them, one syllable at a time.
Now it’s your turn—what’s your favorite word? And why does it make your heart skip a beat?
I’m not sure what to make of this weather. When it rains it is lovely cool weather. A little bit of dryness and we need the fan. I should not complain and instead cherish the unpredictability because once the rains are over, I cannot imagine the heat. Only five months left for the year to end. Can someone tell me where did half of the year go? I’ve not done anything and soon I’ll have to push the restart button. I think we’ve been cheated.
The past few days I seem to hear only about deaths. I read about the young 30-something Microsoft employee who passed away at his workplace. The next day I read of another 30-something doctor who collapsed while doing his ward rounds. Last night my husband told me about a 12-year-old boy killing his classmate in school, somewhere up North. Though I was curious I didn’t have the heart to hunt the news. It’s traumatic enough as it is. That’s why I avoid the news or going through social media.
What is happening though? What is wrong with the world, with us? Have we become numb to grief, scrolling past tragedies like headlines that barely touch us? Have our lives become so hurried that we forget how fragile breath really is? Or is it simply that death has always been this close, and only now do I have the ears to hear it, the eyes to notice it?
The sad news does not end here. Earlier today, a classmate from school informed the school group that our classmate was deteriorating. She has cancer. Then my friend’s mother-in-law with the autoimmune illness was moved to the ICU. Apparently, the doctors say she has days to live. A friend back home just lost his Dad.
I am feeling the weight of life, and it is heavy. At the moment, it is not pretty, sunshine and rainbows. It feels more like imbalance, the scales tipping violently on one side. It is despair, gloom, unyielding and obstinate. The weight presses down like a sodden cloak, suffocating, clinging to the skin. Its edges are jagged, scraping against the soul, leaving cuts too fine for the naked eye yet deep enough to ache. It is like fabric being torn apart, the grating sound sharp and merciless, threads snapping one by one until all that remains are frayed ends fluttering in the wind.
Is it flexing? Why do I feel it’s gloating? Trying to show how strong and mighty it is? That we are at its mercy? Whatever it is, I feel its cruelty. And it is a cruelty none of us need. But, we live. We rise. We move on. Because, there is no alternative.
I believe in some blending of hope and sunshine sweetening the worst lots. I believe that this life is not all; neither the beginning nor the end. I believe while I tremble; I trust while I weep. — Charlotte Brontë, Villette
Arguably, the most significant meeting in the New World occurred on that date around a kitchen table near Yorktown, Virginia. It was there that British and Hessian soldiers agreed to disarm. The following morning, 7,000 troops surrendered—marking the beginning of the end of the Revolutionary War. Since then, our nation has seen many moments of […]
Arguably, the most significant meeting in the New World occurred on that date around a kitchen table near Yorktown, Virginia. It was there that British and Hessian soldiers agreed to disarm. The following morning, 7,000 troops surrendered—marking the beginning of the end of the Revolutionary War. Since then, our nation has seen many moments of […]
Arguably, the most significant meeting in the New World occurred around a kitchen table on Thursday, October 18, 1781, near Yorktown, Virginia. It was there that British and Hessian soldiers agreed to disarm. The following morning, 7,000 troops surrendered—marking the beginning of the end of the Revolutionary War. Since then, our nation has seen many […]
Arguably, the most significant meeting in the new world occurred around a kitchen table on Thursday, October 18, 1781, near Yorktown, Virgnia where British and Hessian soldiers agreed to disarm. The next morning 7,000 British and Hessian solders surrendered and no troops have been deployed in our nation’s streets since unless under times of extreme […]
Arguably, the most significant meeting in the new world occurred around a kitchen table on Thursday, October 18, 1781, near Yorktown, Virgnia where British and Hessian soldiers agreed to disarm. The next morning 7,000 British and Hessian solders surrendered and no troops have been deployed in our nation’s streets since unless under times of extreme […]
Arguably, the most significant meeting in the new world occurred around a kitchen table on Thursday, October 18, 1781, near Yorktown, Virgnia where British and Hessian soldiers agreed to disarm. The next morning 7,000 British and Hessian solders surrendered and no troops have been deployed in our nation’s streets since unless under times of extreme […]
Arguably, the most significant meeting in the new world occurred a a Thursday, October 18, 1781, near Yorktown where British and Hessian soldiers agreed to disarm and the next morning 7,000 British and Hessian solders did just that. This Saturday October 18 2025 military troops are again in our streets where lawlessness of unknown actors […]
Arguably maybe the most significant meeting in the new world occurred a a Thursday, October 18, 1781, near Yorktown where British and Hessian soldiers agreed to disarm and the next morning 7,000 British and Hessian solders did just that. This Saturday October 18 2025 military troops are again in our streets where lawlessness of unknown […]
This is a tender poem inspired by an artwork of two lovers embracing in a dance. It captures the timeless beauty of love, where silence speaks louder than words, and colors mirror emotions that bind two hearts as one.
# Colours of Life #
Two souls meet, the world stands still, Hearts entwined with gentle will. Her hair flows wild, the winds obey, His arms hold close, night turns to day.
The sky paints strokes of red and gold, A timeless story, forever told. No words are spoken, yet all is clear, Love is the music they both can hear.
On grassy ground their shadows sway, In colors bright, her eyes convey. The world may fade, but they remain, Two hearts as one—in joy, in pain.
What ordinary thing in life feels extraordinary when I stop and notice it?
Since it’s a repeat prompt, I came armed with my own. But first, my answer to the grudge is this:
The Bible says, “Do not let the sun go down on your anger.” I reflect on these words often. I’m ashamed to admit I don’t always live by them – sometimes or is that plenty of times , I do go to sleep upset with my better half, the poor bearer of my wrath. But grudges? No.
Grudges are too heavy to carry. They are poison to the soul, breeding resentment and bitterness. They cloud judgment, making us see the world through our own dirty glass, while we criticize others for not cleaning theirs.
Now, to answer my own prompt.
Rainy days hush the world in their own way. With life slowing down, the ordinary grows louder. Alone in these quiet moments, I notice how the smallest sounds carry presence, almost as if they’re reminding me that even in stillness, life never really stops moving.
For the past so many mornings, I let myself simply lie in bed and listen. Before the humdrum of the day begins, I soak in the quietness and notice life unfolding around me. It’s amazing how much there is to hear when we allow ourselves to be still.
Birds outside call to one another, not all in unison but each with its own melody. Cars rumble past, horns impatient as if honking could actually part the traffic. A bicycle bell rings, cheerful but also faintly desperate to be noticed. Then comes the whistle of a pressure cooker, sharp, insistent and utterly unforgiving – as though announcing to the whole neighborhood, “Breakfast is ready, whether you like it or not.”
Even the ordinary sounds of the fan, the hammering at a neighbor’s house, voices drifting from the street, the hush of the school before children arrive – all weave together into a kind of morning symphony.
Yet what strikes me most is not the noise, but the silence I feel within. Amidst the clatter and busyness of life, silence has a presence of its own – steady, grounding, waiting to be noticed.
Maybe that’s the gift hidden in both lessons; letting go of grudges clears the heart and being present reveals the extraordinary in the ordinary. Both remind me that life is lighter, truer, when I simply choose to notice.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective mood. Today, I am captivated by a simple yet profound question: “Do you see yourself as a leader?”
At first glance, it seems straightforward. Leadership often brings to mind titles, authority, or positions of power.
But as I’ve come to learn through my personal and professional journey, true leadership is far more than a designation. It is about mindset, influence, empathy, and the courage to act, even when no one is watching.
When I first considered this question, I realized the answer isn’t purely yes or no—it’s both.
Yes, because leadership manifests in everyday decisions, interactions, and the ways we inspire others.
No, because leadership is a responsibility, not an identity we claim lightly. It requires self-awareness, humility, and a continuous commitment to growth.
This duality is the essence of leadership—it is as much about inner conviction as it is about outward action.
Leadership begins with self-leadership. Before we can guide others, we must lead ourselves with clarity and purpose.
Self-discipline, emotional intelligence, and the ability to reflect on our choices form the foundation of effective leadership.
Life With Many Challenges
Challenges in life—be it personal setbacks, career hurdles, or relationship complexities—test our composure and integrity. It is in these quiet, unsung moments that leadership is truly forged.
Influence is another dimension. A leader is not defined solely by the number of people they command but by the impact they create. Influence comes from respect, trust, and authenticity.
A teacher inspiring students through encouragement, a parent shaping values in their children, or a colleague offering support during a crisis—all exemplify leadership in action.
These subtle forms of influence often have the most lasting impact.
Empathy is equally essential.
In a world driven by deadlines and outcomes, empathy allows leaders to connect on a human level.
Listening without judgment, understanding different perspectives, and responding with compassion fosters environments where people feel valued and motivated.
Leaders who cultivate empathy leave legacies of trust, loyalty, and shared growth.
Vision is another hallmark of leadership.
Leaders are architects of the future—they anticipate challenges, identify opportunities, and guide others toward common goals.
Yet vision is not only about grand ambitions; it also shines through small, consistent actions that set an example of integrity, resilience, and ethical decision-making.
Courage is the final piece.
True leaders face difficult choices, stand by their values, and accept responsibility for outcomes.
They embrace accountability, learn from mistakes, and treat failure as a stepping stone toward growth. Leadership, therefore, is an evolving journey rather than a fixed title.
Reflecting on my personal journey, particularly during my tenure as a Bank Branch Manager, I have experienced leadership firsthand.
One defining moment was when our branch expanded to include insurance services. With tight deadlines and high expectations,
I chose to lead by example—working alongside my team rather than directing from a distance. Not only did we exceed our targets, but we also strengthened team camaraderie and commitment.
Effective communication proved equally transformative. I recall a junior colleague suggesting a novel approach to recovering bad loans.
Instead of dismissing the idea, I encouraged exploration, listened carefully, and guided its implementation. This not only led to innovative solutions but also reinforced trust and collaboration within the team.
Embracing failure has also been a critical lesson.
Once, we lost a key customer due to a staff misunderstanding. Rather than assigning blame, we reflected on the experience, discussed improvements openly, and turned the setback into an opportunity.
That experience strengthened both our processes and our team’s resilience.
Nurturing growth in others has always been central to my leadership philosophy. Mentoring junior staff, offering guidance, and facilitating training opportunities allows individuals to flourish while fostering a culture of continuous learning.
Witnessing their development—seeing them evolve into confident, capable contributors—has been one of the most rewarding aspects of my journey.
Challenges, of course, are inevitable.
Each obstacle has tested adaptability, patience, and problem-solving skills.
But these challenges have also been opportunities for growth, reminding me that leadership is not a solo journey—it is a collective pursuit where learning, trust, and shared purpose create meaningful impact.
So, do I see myself as a leader?
Absolutely. Leadership, to me, is not about perfection but intention, awareness, and action. It is about guiding, serving, and uplifting others, whether at work, in the community, or at home.
It is a daily choice—a commitment to act with purpose, to rise above complacency, and to leave a positive mark on those we encounter.
Dear friends, I encourage you to pause and reflect: How do you lead in your life? Leadership is closer than we imagine.
By embracing it consciously, we can inspire, influence, and create change that goes far beyond our individual efforts.
Leadership is not a distant goal—it is a journey of growth, courage, and meaningful connection.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
If this post inspired you, show some love! Like | Follow | Share | Comment
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful and reflective mood. Today, I am captivated by a simple yet profound question: “Do you see yourself as a leader?”
At first glance, it seems straightforward. Leadership often brings to mind titles, authority, or positions of power.
But as I’ve come to learn through my personal and professional journey, true leadership is far more than a designation. It is about mindset, influence, empathy, and the courage to act, even when no one is watching.
When I first considered this question, I realized the answer isn’t purely yes or no—it’s both.
Yes, because leadership manifests in everyday decisions, interactions, and the ways we inspire others.
No, because leadership is a responsibility, not an identity we claim lightly. It requires self-awareness, humility, and a continuous commitment to growth.
This duality is the essence of leadership—it is as much about inner conviction as it is about outward action.
Leadership begins with self-leadership. Before we can guide others, we must lead ourselves with clarity and purpose.
Self-discipline, emotional intelligence, and the ability to reflect on our choices form the foundation of effective leadership.
Life With Many Challenges
Challenges in life—be it personal setbacks, career hurdles, or relationship complexities—test our composure and integrity. It is in these quiet, unsung moments that leadership is truly forged.
Influence is another dimension. A leader is not defined solely by the number of people they command but by the impact they create. Influence comes from respect, trust, and authenticity.
A teacher inspiring students through encouragement, a parent shaping values in their children, or a colleague offering support during a crisis—all exemplify leadership in action.
These subtle forms of influence often have the most lasting impact.
Empathy is equally essential.
In a world driven by deadlines and outcomes, empathy allows leaders to connect on a human level.
Listening without judgment, understanding different perspectives, and responding with compassion fosters environments where people feel valued and motivated.
Leaders who cultivate empathy leave legacies of trust, loyalty, and shared growth.
Vision is another hallmark of leadership.
Leaders are architects of the future—they anticipate challenges, identify opportunities, and guide others toward common goals.
Yet vision is not only about grand ambitions; it also shines through small, consistent actions that set an example of integrity, resilience, and ethical decision-making.
Courage is the final piece.
True leaders face difficult choices, stand by their values, and accept responsibility for outcomes.
They embrace accountability, learn from mistakes, and treat failure as a stepping stone toward growth. Leadership, therefore, is an evolving journey rather than a fixed title.
Reflecting on my personal journey, particularly during my tenure as a Bank Branch Manager, I have experienced leadership firsthand.
One defining moment was when our branch expanded to include insurance services. With tight deadlines and high expectations,
I chose to lead by example—working alongside my team rather than directing from a distance. Not only did we exceed our targets, but we also strengthened team camaraderie and commitment.
Effective communication proved equally transformative. I recall a junior colleague suggesting a novel approach to recovering bad loans.
Instead of dismissing the idea, I encouraged exploration, listened carefully, and guided its implementation. This not only led to innovative solutions but also reinforced trust and collaboration within the team.
Embracing failure has also been a critical lesson.
Once, we lost a key customer due to a staff misunderstanding. Rather than assigning blame, we reflected on the experience, discussed improvements openly, and turned the setback into an opportunity.
That experience strengthened both our processes and our team’s resilience.
Nurturing growth in others has always been central to my leadership philosophy. Mentoring junior staff, offering guidance, and facilitating training opportunities allows individuals to flourish while fostering a culture of continuous learning.
Witnessing their development—seeing them evolve into confident, capable contributors—has been one of the most rewarding aspects of my journey.
Challenges, of course, are inevitable.
Each obstacle has tested adaptability, patience, and problem-solving skills.
But these challenges have also been opportunities for growth, reminding me that leadership is not a solo journey—it is a collective pursuit where learning, trust, and shared purpose create meaningful impact.
So, do I see myself as a leader?
Absolutely. Leadership, to me, is not about perfection but intention, awareness, and action. It is about guiding, serving, and uplifting others, whether at work, in the community, or at home.
It is a daily choice—a commitment to act with purpose, to rise above complacency, and to leave a positive mark on those we encounter.
Dear friends, I encourage you to pause and reflect: How do you lead in your life? Leadership is closer than we imagine.
By embracing it consciously, we can inspire, influence, and create change that goes far beyond our individual efforts.
Leadership is not a distant goal—it is a journey of growth, courage, and meaningful connection.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
If this post inspired you, show some love! Like | Follow | Share | Comment
I actually had to google which was further from where I live, Dominican Republic or Barbados. And it’s Barbados.
I’ve written about it before, several times I think. The trip to Barbados when I was nineteen, to stand as the maid of honour for my best friend’s wedding.
A few things stand out about it, or flash in my mind when I’m trying to remember it or picture it in my head.
The flight attendant going down the aisle with her cart, repeating the question “champagne with orange juice?” over and over and over again.
In an effort to be economical, we made toast for breakfast in our rooms, or more specifically the bride’s mom did that for us and I recall being so ravenous and eating something familiar, the white bread toasted with strawberry jam on it tasted like heaven.
It was my first time at the ocean and it felt a bit scary. Looking out at the horizon and not knowing what was out there. Also being reluctant to swim because it felt so unfamiliar and big and strange. It wasn’t at all like the little lakes I grew up swimming in.
I remember the awful sea sickness on the day we went out deep sea fishing. Everyone else was drinking rum punch and having a great time but I was doped up on Gravol and trying to sleep on the bunk down under the boat.
The restaurant we ate at after the wedding ceremony. It was out on a patio overlooking the ocean and it was dark outside but there were twinkling lights. It felt magical.
I remember what a chore it was helping the bride into the bathroom stall in her enormous white gown.
The best man incessantly coming onto me and flirting with me, which, at age nineteen, I thought was a hoot.
This is a heartfelt reflection on life, joy, and the magic of the present moment. Through a quiet conversation with my pen, this piece reminds us that life itself is a miracle—our breath, our thoughts, and our hope are the wonders we often overlook.
Yes, “Life itself is a quiet miracle, waiting to be noticed in every breath, every thought, every word we write.”
Conversation with my Pen
I was searching for my pen one evening, when I found her resting quietly between the pages of my diary.
She seemed shy as I held her, so I asked with a curious smile: “Tell me, what is the difference between you and me?”
She looked at me, smiled faintly, and whispered:
**“I am a small pen— yet with every stroke, I write history.
You, a five-foot human being, struggle endlessly with life.
I can write my wishes on paper, but it seems your own wishes have long been buried.”**
Her words pierced me. I quickly replied:
“No, that’s not true. Our desires are endless— and perhaps that is why we suffer so much.”
The pen spoke again:
**“You humans keep waiting for miracles. Don’t you see? The miracle has already happened.
God has made you human. You breathe, you think, you imagine— what greater wonder could there be?
And yet, you forget this blessing, and wander into temples, praying for another miracle.”**
I asked softly: “Then what should I do?”
She smiled like a friend:
**“Stay in the present. Stop living in the past, stop worrying about the future.
Switch on your favorite music, and dance with yourself.
And if anyone asks why— just say, ‘Because I am happy.’ That is where joy begins.”**
Her voice grew deeper:
**“The past is gone. The future cannot be known.
Money, fame, recognition— none of it will go with you. All of it will remain behind.
So why the greed? Why the ego? Think… just think…
Then she invited me warmly:
**“Come with me. Write the story of your life with smiles, with gratitude, with joy.
Awaken the fire within— for the fire inside creates history, but the fire outside only creates mysteries.”**
I closed my eyes, letting her words sink into my soul.
And in that moment I knew— life is not about chasing miracles, but about living the miracle we already are.
This is a heartfelt reflection on life, joy, and the magic of the present moment. Through a quiet conversation with my pen, this piece reminds us that life itself is a miracle—our breath, our thoughts, and our hope are the wonders we often overlook.
Yes, “Life itself is a quiet miracle, waiting to be noticed in every breath, every thought, every word we write.”
Conversation with my Pen
I was searching for my pen one evening, when I found her resting quietly between the pages of my diary.
She seemed shy as I held her, so I asked with a curious smile: “Tell me, what is the difference between you and me?”
She looked at me, smiled faintly, and whispered:
**“I am a small pen— yet with every stroke, I write history.
You, a five-foot human being, struggle endlessly with life.
I can write my wishes on paper, but it seems your own wishes have long been buried.”**
Her words pierced me. I quickly replied:
“No, that’s not true. Our desires are endless— and perhaps that is why we suffer so much.”
The pen spoke again:
**“You humans keep waiting for miracles. Don’t you see? The miracle has already happened.
God has made you human. You breathe, you think, you imagine— what greater wonder could there be?
And yet, you forget this blessing, and wander into temples, praying for another miracle.”**
I asked softly: “Then what should I do?”
She smiled like a friend:
**“Stay in the present. Stop living in the past, stop worrying about the future.
Switch on your favorite music, and dance with yourself.
And if anyone asks why— just say, ‘Because I am happy.’ That is where joy begins.”**
Her voice grew deeper:
**“The past is gone. The future cannot be known.
Money, fame, recognition— none of it will go with you. All of it will remain behind.
So why the greed? Why the ego? Think… just think…
Then she invited me warmly:
**“Come with me. Write the story of your life with smiles, with gratitude, with joy.
Awaken the fire within— for the fire inside creates history, but the fire outside only creates mysteries.”**
I closed my eyes, letting her words sink into my soul.
And in that moment I knew— life is not about chasing miracles, but about living the miracle we already are.
Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.
The furthest I’ve traveled from home, today, I don’t think of a city or a country. Instead, I think of a journey I wish I could take, one not bound by geography but by love and loss.
Today if I could, I’d travel to the other world for you – for one last conversation, last sit down, last hug, maybe, even one reprimand.
Just to hear your voice one last time, to tell you this life is not the same.
I wish I could tell you stories and show you the little world we’ve built, how the children are growing and our lives that are ongoing.
But you’re on the other side, oblivious to our world, and I know you’re at peace, resting, nestled in the arms of the One you believed.
I want you to know though we didn’t always see eye to eye, there wasn’t a time I didn’t love you.
Today as a parent I miss your wisdom and insight, and I wish I was a better daughter one last time.
And so I carry you with me, in the stories I tell, in the way I live, in the love I give my own.
You are gone from this world, yet never gone from me.
That would be the furthest journey – not measured in miles or maps, but in longing to cross the distance between here and the hereafter. A journey I can only dream of, yet one my heart makes every single day.
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood and ready for a little journey into the magic of evenings.
Today, I want to reflect on a question that seems so simple, yet carries a quiet charm: “What are you doing this evening?”
Sometimes, the answer to this question becomes more than just a routine—it becomes a memory.
And that’s exactly what happened to me recently when I visited Delhi to spend some time at my son’s residence..
Last Sunday was special. With no office work for my son, the day already carried the fragrance of leisure.
As the sun dipped and the cool breeze set in, the evening seemed perfect for an outing. I asked my son to suggest someplace unique where we could spend a memorable evening together.
With a sparkle in his eyes, he said, “Papa, let’s go to Bark Street in Noida Sector 110.” Intrigued, I agreed, and soon we were on our way.
Bark Street—Delhi NCR’s First Dog Café
Now, you might be wondering—what exactly is Bark Street?
Well, it’s not just another café. It’s Delhi NCR’s first dog-friendly café, a place where humans and their furry companions can work, play, and dine together.
The idea behind Bark Street is simple yet heartwarming: pets are not just animals, they’re family. Most of us treat our dogs like children—feeding them, caring for them, and sharing our emotions with them.
But one challenge often remains: when we go out to eat, our beloved pets usually stay behind at home. Bark Street was created to bridge that gap, allowing families to enjoy time with their pets without compromise.
Even if you don’t own a pet, the café has its own in-house dogs who are friendly, adorable, and always ready for belly rubs. This way, every visitor gets the joy of bonding with these wonderful creatures.
The Story Behind the Café
I learned that the café was founded by Somya Singhal and Nikhil Singh, who, like many pet parents, struggled to find spaces where both humans and dogs could socialize together.
They joined hands with Rahul Narang and Aman Bhardwaj, and together they built a space that’s more than just a café—it’s a community.
The café hosts dog-friendly events, offers catering, and has become a hub for pet lovers to connect.
Their philosophy is simple: create a colorful, welcoming environment where humans and pets can relax, bond, and make memories.
An Evening to Remember
Walking into Bark Street felt like stepping into a world designed with joy in mind. Bright colors, playful décor, and the sound of happy paws instantly lifted my mood.
Since we don’t have a pet dog at home, I spent time playing with the resident dogs and even fed them treats from their specially crafted menu. Their wagging tails and sparkling eyes were enough to melt anyone’s heart.
The café has separate menus for dogs and humans. While pets get wholesome, tasty treats, humans can enjoy a variety of delicious food along with drinks.
I couldn’t help but notice how carefully everything had been planned—not just for the customers, but also for the four-legged companions.
And it doesn’t stop there. Bark Street also functions as a co-working space with high-speed internet, making it a perfect spot for freelancers and professionals who love to work in the company of pets.
They offer doggy daycare, grooming, training, walking services, home vet visits, and even pet therapy. Truly, it’s a one-stop destination for dog lovers.
Why Bark Street Matters
This outing made me realize something important: evenings are not just about winding down—they’re about choosing how we want to feel.
That evening at Bark Street was full of laughter, play, and warmth. It was different from a usual Sunday evening at home. Instead, it became a memory etched in my heart.
Sometimes, when someone asks us, “What are you doing this evening?”, we give quick answers like, “Just relaxing,” or “Nothing much.”
But evenings hold so much potential! They are invitations to reflect, connect, explore, and even indulge in adventures we never planned.
A Gentle Reminder
So, my friends, before the sun sets today, ask yourself: What do I want this evening to feel like? Do you want it to be quiet and reflective, brimming with laughter, or a little adventurous?
For me, last Sunday was adventurous and full of joy. Bark Street was not just a café—it was an experience.
The concept, the ambience, the humble staff, and the delicious food all made it memorable.
More than that, it reminded me that evenings are opportunities to create stories worth retelling.
In the end, evenings are not just hours on the clock—they are invitations. Invitations to rest, to connect, to explore, and to celebrate life in its simplest and happiest form.
When we choose to answer that question—“What are you doing this evening?”—with mindfulness, we give ourselves the chance to make every evening meaningful.. Is it not
So tonight, I leave you with this thought: This evening is yours. How will you spend it?
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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You know how you want what you never had, don’t have, or will ever have? I’m working on it, but that’s me to an extreme.
The first thirteen years of my life were spent in a tiny, one level, two bedroom house. Five of us. I had two sisters and all three of us shared a bedroom. We had one bathroom with a bathtub but no shower.
In grade nine, my parents bought a three bedroom trailer and I’ll never forget how excited we were the day it was delivered to our yard. It was a brand new home and my older sister would have her own room.
We still had just one bathroom but at least now we had the option to shower if we wanted, which I’m sure my Dad was thrilled about because he was (and is) Mr. Water Conservation. He still lives in fear of the well drying up. And my parents still live in that trailer they bought in 1990.
I had friends who lived in enormous homes. They had an upstairs, a downstairs, a dining room, a sitting room, a rumpus room etc. Guess what, I found out later that none of them were as lucky as I was. Every single one of them had problems at home, in one fashion or another.
But I grew up first, in an embarrassingly small home that Dad would surround with flax bales in the winter to help keep us warm. And second, in a trailer. I still make trailer trash jokes, as I’m allowed.
My tiny homes were filled with nothing but love, security and stability and I’m forever grateful for that.
However, when you ask me what my ideal home is, I automatically default to a structure that’s huge, a mansion. All types of rooms for doing all types of things. Who doesn’t want that?
This morning, as I sipped on a glass of tender coconut water, I felt a wave of gratitude for this humble fruit that has been a companion to humanity for centuries.
Today, being World Coconut Day, I couldn’t resist sharing a few reflections—not only because I am a fan of coconuts, but because their story is as fascinating as their benefits.
And for us, especially senior citizens, the coconut is not just refreshing, it’s almost medicinal.
A Coconut’s Smile and Its Journey
Did you know that the word “coconut” comes from the Portuguese and Spanish word coco, meaning “grinning face”?
Look at a coconut closely—the three small indentations on its shell do resemble a face smiling back at you. When the Portuguese introduced this fruit to England, the suffix nut was added, and so “coconut” was born.
What amazes me most is how nature designed it as a true traveler.
With its tough shell and fibrous husk, the coconut can float across oceans, germinate on distant shores, and create life wherever it lands.
No wonder it is called the Tree of Life.
Beyond the Curry Pot
Most of us know coconut as an essential kitchen ingredient—whether it’s chutney on the South Indian plate, coconut milk in Thai curry, or the refreshing water we enjoy on a hot afternoon.
But coconuts have a life far beyond the kitchen.
In Hawaii and the Cook Islands, coconut shells once became traditional bras for festive dances.
Today, the fashion industry is experimenting with coconut fibers to create eco-friendly clothing. Imagine undergarments and even period panties made of coconut fabric—breathable, antibacterial, and gentle on the skin.
For seniors with skin sensitivities like eczema or dermatitis, coconut textiles can be a blessing compared to synthetic fabrics that often irritate.
Isn’t it fascinating how a fruit can clothe us just as well as it feeds us?
A Drink That Saved Lives
We often think of coconut water as a refreshing drink, but during World War II, it became something much more.
In times of crisis, when medical supplies were scarce, doctors discovered that coconut water could be used as an emergency substitute for blood plasma.
Its natural composition of sugars, salts, and electrolytes was so close to human plasma that it kept injured soldiers alive.
For us today, coconut water continues to be a natural lifesaver. For seniors, it’s a gentle way to stay hydrated, maintain blood pressure, and strengthen the heart.
It’s nature’s sports drink—without the chemicals.
Coconut Oil: A Medicine Chest in a Jar
Let’s talk about coconut oil, a bottle many of us have had in our kitchens for decades.
Its lauric acid is a natural warrior—fighting viruses, bacteria, and fungi.
Its medium-chain fatty acids are being studied for their role in improving memory and supporting patients with Alzheimer’s disease.
For aching joints and arthritis, warm coconut oil massage has soothed generations.
And of course, it’s a timeless moisturizer for dry skin and cracked heels—especially in winter.
It’s hard to find another oil that wears so many hats with such grace.
Gentle Care for the Skin
Age brings with it delicate skin, often sensitive to heat, sun, or harsh fabrics. Coconut fabric—yes, fabric!—is proving to be a gentle alternative.
It is hypoallergenic, breathable, and UV protective, reducing irritation while keeping the skin cool. For seniors, it’s like wearing nature’s soft armor against sunburn and allergies.
The World Salutes the Coconut
In 2009, the Asian and Pacific Coconut Community (APCC) declared September 2nd as World Coconut Day to honor the economic and cultural importance of coconuts.
Millions of farmers across India, Indonesia, the Philippines, Thailand, Sri Lanka, Vietnam, and even Kenya rely on coconuts for their livelihood.
On this day, awareness programs highlight sustainable farming practices—reminding us that coconuts are not just fruits, they are lifelines.
Why Seniors Should Love Coconuts
For those of us in our golden years, coconuts can be a trusted friend:
Coconut water keeps the heart healthy and prevents dehydration.
Coconut oil eases arthritis pain and supports brain function.
Coconut fiber aids digestion and gut health.
Coconut-based fabrics reduce skin irritation and offer UV protection.
A single fruit offering so much—nutrition, healing, comfort, and protection. Truly, the coconut deserves the title superfood.
A Glass Raised to the Tree of Life
As I finish this piece, I’m holding a fresh glass of coconut water. And I invite you to join me in raising this simple drink as a toast—not just to a fruit, but to a friend of humankind.
A friend that has saved lives in wars, healed wounds, inspired fashion, sustained farmers, nourished generations, and protected our planet.
So here’s to the incredible coconut—may we continue to enjoy its gifts and respect its place in our lives.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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This morning, as I sipped on a glass of tender coconut water, I felt a wave of gratitude for this humble fruit that has been a companion to humanity for centuries.
Today, being World Coconut Day, I couldn’t resist sharing a few reflections—not only because I am a fan of coconuts, but because their story is as fascinating as their benefits.
And for us, especially senior citizens, the coconut is not just refreshing, it’s almost medicinal.
A Coconut’s Smile and Its Journey
Did you know that the word “coconut” comes from the Portuguese and Spanish word coco, meaning “grinning face”?
Look at a coconut closely—the three small indentations on its shell do resemble a face smiling back at you. When the Portuguese introduced this fruit to England, the suffix nut was added, and so “coconut” was born.
What amazes me most is how nature designed it as a true traveler.
With its tough shell and fibrous husk, the coconut can float across oceans, germinate on distant shores, and create life wherever it lands.
No wonder it is called the Tree of Life.
Beyond the Curry Pot
Most of us know coconut as an essential kitchen ingredient—whether it’s chutney on the South Indian plate, coconut milk in Thai curry, or the refreshing water we enjoy on a hot afternoon.
But coconuts have a life far beyond the kitchen.
In Hawaii and the Cook Islands, coconut shells once became traditional bras for festive dances.
Today, the fashion industry is experimenting with coconut fibers to create eco-friendly clothing. Imagine undergarments and even period panties made of coconut fabric—breathable, antibacterial, and gentle on the skin.
For seniors with skin sensitivities like eczema or dermatitis, coconut textiles can be a blessing compared to synthetic fabrics that often irritate.
Isn’t it fascinating how a fruit can clothe us just as well as it feeds us?
A Drink That Saved Lives
We often think of coconut water as a refreshing drink, but during World War II, it became something much more.
In times of crisis, when medical supplies were scarce, doctors discovered that coconut water could be used as an emergency substitute for blood plasma.
Its natural composition of sugars, salts, and electrolytes was so close to human plasma that it kept injured soldiers alive.
For us today, coconut water continues to be a natural lifesaver. For seniors, it’s a gentle way to stay hydrated, maintain blood pressure, and strengthen the heart.
It’s nature’s sports drink—without the chemicals.
Coconut Oil: A Medicine Chest in a Jar
Let’s talk about coconut oil, a bottle many of us have had in our kitchens for decades.
Its lauric acid is a natural warrior—fighting viruses, bacteria, and fungi.
Its medium-chain fatty acids are being studied for their role in improving memory and supporting patients with Alzheimer’s disease.
For aching joints and arthritis, warm coconut oil massage has soothed generations.
And of course, it’s a timeless moisturizer for dry skin and cracked heels—especially in winter.
It’s hard to find another oil that wears so many hats with such grace.
Gentle Care for the Skin
Age brings with it delicate skin, often sensitive to heat, sun, or harsh fabrics. Coconut fabric—yes, fabric!—is proving to be a gentle alternative.
It is hypoallergenic, breathable, and UV protective, reducing irritation while keeping the skin cool. For seniors, it’s like wearing nature’s soft armor against sunburn and allergies.
The World Salutes the Coconut
In 2009, the Asian and Pacific Coconut Community (APCC) declared September 2nd as World Coconut Day to honor the economic and cultural importance of coconuts.
Millions of farmers across India, Indonesia, the Philippines, Thailand, Sri Lanka, Vietnam, and even Kenya rely on coconuts for their livelihood.
On this day, awareness programs highlight sustainable farming practices—reminding us that coconuts are not just fruits, they are lifelines.
Why Seniors Should Love Coconuts
For those of us in our golden years, coconuts can be a trusted friend:
Coconut water keeps the heart healthy and prevents dehydration.
Coconut oil eases arthritis pain and supports brain function.
Coconut fiber aids digestion and gut health.
Coconut-based fabrics reduce skin irritation and offer UV protection.
A single fruit offering so much—nutrition, healing, comfort, and protection. Truly, the coconut deserves the title superfood.
A Glass Raised to the Tree of Life
As I finish this piece, I’m holding a fresh glass of coconut water. And I invite you to join me in raising this simple drink as a toast—not just to a fruit, but to a friend of humankind.
A friend that has saved lives in wars, healed wounds, inspired fashion, sustained farmers, nourished generations, and protected our planet.
So here’s to the incredible coconut—may we continue to enjoy its gifts and respect its place in our lives.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
If this post inspired you, show some love! Like | Follow | Share | Comment
This morning, as I sipped on a glass of tender coconut water, I felt a wave of gratitude for this humble fruit that has been a companion to humanity for centuries.
Today, being World Coconut Day, I couldn’t resist sharing a few reflections—not only because I am a fan of coconuts, but because their story is as fascinating as their benefits.
And for us, especially senior citizens, the coconut is not just refreshing, it’s almost medicinal.
A Coconut’s Smile and Its Journey
Did you know that the word “coconut” comes from the Portuguese and Spanish word coco, meaning “grinning face”?
Look at a coconut closely—the three small indentations on its shell do resemble a face smiling back at you. When the Portuguese introduced this fruit to England, the suffix nut was added, and so “coconut” was born.
What amazes me most is how nature designed it as a true traveler.
With its tough shell and fibrous husk, the coconut can float across oceans, germinate on distant shores, and create life wherever it lands.
No wonder it is called the Tree of Life.
Beyond the Curry Pot
Most of us know coconut as an essential kitchen ingredient—whether it’s chutney on the South Indian plate, coconut milk in Thai curry, or the refreshing water we enjoy on a hot afternoon.
But coconuts have a life far beyond the kitchen.
In Hawaii and the Cook Islands, coconut shells once became traditional bras for festive dances.
Today, the fashion industry is experimenting with coconut fibers to create eco-friendly clothing. Imagine undergarments and even period panties made of coconut fabric—breathable, antibacterial, and gentle on the skin.
For seniors with skin sensitivities like eczema or dermatitis, coconut textiles can be a blessing compared to synthetic fabrics that often irritate.
Isn’t it fascinating how a fruit can clothe us just as well as it feeds us?
A Drink That Saved Lives
We often think of coconut water as a refreshing drink, but during World War II, it became something much more.
In times of crisis, when medical supplies were scarce, doctors discovered that coconut water could be used as an emergency substitute for blood plasma.
Its natural composition of sugars, salts, and electrolytes was so close to human plasma that it kept injured soldiers alive.
For us today, coconut water continues to be a natural lifesaver. For seniors, it’s a gentle way to stay hydrated, maintain blood pressure, and strengthen the heart.
It’s nature’s sports drink—without the chemicals.
Coconut Oil: A Medicine Chest in a Jar
Let’s talk about coconut oil, a bottle many of us have had in our kitchens for decades.
Its lauric acid is a natural warrior—fighting viruses, bacteria, and fungi.
Its medium-chain fatty acids are being studied for their role in improving memory and supporting patients with Alzheimer’s disease.
For aching joints and arthritis, warm coconut oil massage has soothed generations.
And of course, it’s a timeless moisturizer for dry skin and cracked heels—especially in winter.
It’s hard to find another oil that wears so many hats with such grace.
Gentle Care for the Skin
Age brings with it delicate skin, often sensitive to heat, sun, or harsh fabrics. Coconut fabric—yes, fabric!—is proving to be a gentle alternative.
It is hypoallergenic, breathable, and UV protective, reducing irritation while keeping the skin cool. For seniors, it’s like wearing nature’s soft armor against sunburn and allergies.
The World Salutes the Coconut
In 2009, the Asian and Pacific Coconut Community (APCC) declared September 2nd as World Coconut Day to honor the economic and cultural importance of coconuts.
Millions of farmers across India, Indonesia, the Philippines, Thailand, Sri Lanka, Vietnam, and even Kenya rely on coconuts for their livelihood.
On this day, awareness programs highlight sustainable farming practices—reminding us that coconuts are not just fruits, they are lifelines.
Why Seniors Should Love Coconuts
For those of us in our golden years, coconuts can be a trusted friend:
Coconut water keeps the heart healthy and prevents dehydration.
Coconut oil eases arthritis pain and supports brain function.
Coconut fiber aids digestion and gut health.
Coconut-based fabrics reduce skin irritation and offer UV protection.
A single fruit offering so much—nutrition, healing, comfort, and protection. Truly, the coconut deserves the title superfood.
A Glass Raised to the Tree of Life
As I finish this piece, I’m holding a fresh glass of coconut water. And I invite you to join me in raising this simple drink as a toast—not just to a fruit, but to a friend of humankind.
A friend that has saved lives in wars, healed wounds, inspired fashion, sustained farmers, nourished generations, and protected our planet.
So here’s to the incredible coconut—may we continue to enjoy its gifts and respect its place in our lives.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
If this post inspired you, show some love! Like | Follow | Share | Comment
At first, this appeared like another inane question, but as I continued to reflect, the meaning sank much deeper.
It is easy to think of homes from the physical aspect – the structure, appearance, location, valuables and so on. Once upon a time, these were important to me. I’d look at magazines and think, this is what I want my home to be – a showpiece, admired and envied by passersby. In the past few years, though, I’ve learned that it is the heart that makes a home.
My ideal home today, I hope, is filled with imperfect love. We are not even homeowners, but the home we are building internally is filled with laughter, madness, screams and the sounds of life breathing daily. I hope it is a place my family looks forward to returning to – a place of rest and comfort. A sanctuary where grace is served, mistakes are ironed out and mercy overflows.
A home where love is the main ingredient, laughter is stored in drums, not just buckets, joy is the unshakable structure (joy that holds both the happy and the hard), and peace, though sometimes disturbed, always lingers in the background, wrapping us quietly. Even when turbulence comes, rattling the windows, the flame inside never dies. Above all, it is a place where wisdom stands guard at the door and walks with us when we step out.
I hope our home is a place of safety for each one who chooses to step into our hearts and hearth. I hope they find at the table unlimited amounts of kindness like coffee or tea, plates full of generosity, understanding, acceptance, respect and truth. Not to forget, armfuls of mischief and quirks, with silliness holding it all together. A place where everyone has a voice as we break bread and share stories.
It is a home flexible enough to bend with the changing seasons, yet not fragile enough to break, for it is rooted in love. A place where hope is planted again and again, even when some seeds are washed away by the cruel waters of life.
And on a lighter note, before big bathrooms became a style statement, I always dreamed of one – and was laughed at. My home will definitely have a huge woman-cave bathroom . And, of course, a special room with graffiti walls, bursting with art.
In short, our home may be inconvenient, not pretty and often messy. But there is life here, and life thrives and flourishes, even in storms, even in sorrows.
I hope this blog finds you in good health and cheerful spirits. Today, I’m reflecting on a very interesting and thought-provoking prompt:
“What personality trait in people raises a red flag with you?”
For me, the answer came instantly—dishonesty. But as I thought more about it, I realized dishonesty is not just about telling lies. It’s bigger and deeper than that.
Why Dishonesty Raises Red Flags
Have you ever met someone who appears perfect on the surface? They’re always smiling, charming, and helpful. Everything about them feels right—until you start noticing little inconsistencies.
Maybe they exaggerate stories to impress others. Maybe they twist details, omit facts, or take credit for what isn’t theirs.
At first, these things are easy to ignore. You might tell yourself, “It’s a small issue; everyone makes mistakes.” But with time, those small cracks widen.
Trust becomes fragile. And suddenly, you realize the relationship is built on shaky ground. That’s why dishonesty, in any form, is my ultimate red flag.
Dishonesty is often accompanied by another dangerous trait—manipulation. People who manipulate use charm, guilt, or flattery to bend situations in their favor.
They don’t respect boundaries, and they don’t value authenticity. At first, you might admire them for being persuasive, but slowly you begin to feel drained, cornered, and used.
This is why dishonesty and manipulation together form the perfect recipe for disappointment.
A Lesson from Real Life
This isn’t just theory for me—I’ve seen the consequences of dishonesty up close.
Years ago, when I was serving as the Branch Manager at Gol Park, one of my staff members, a cashier named Bhim Shah, taught me a hard lesson.
On the surface, Bhim was everything you’d want in a colleague—charming, polite, and always ready with a smile. Customers liked him because he was friendly and helpful. For a while, everything looked perfect.
But soon, cracks began to show. Some customers, who were close to him, started handing him their cash to deposit directly into their accounts, trusting that he would do the needful and save them from waiting in long queues.
Outwardly, Bhim appeared efficient and considerate. In reality, he was pocketing some of that money and making fake entries in the passbooks to cover his tracks.
At first, no one noticed. His behavior was so convincing that suspicion never arose. But dishonesty has a way of catching up.
Eventually, the fraud was discovered. Bhim not only lost his job but also his reputation. His family suffered deeply because of his actions, and his once-bright future was ruined.
That incident left a deep impression on me. It reminded me that no matter how smart, charming, or talented someone may appear, dishonesty in any form eventually destroys trust—and with it, relationships, careers, and even families.
Patterns Matter, Not Just One Mistake
This story taught me another important lesson: one-off mistakes are human, but repeated patterns are red flags.
Everyone slips up occasionally—we’re all imperfect. But when someone consistently distorts the truth, avoids accountability, or manipulates others, it’s a signal we cannot ignore.
The earlier we recognize these patterns, the easier it is to protect ourselves from disappointment and stress.
Why Recognizing Red Flags Is Important
Red flags aren’t the same for everyone. For me, dishonesty is non-negotiable. For others, it might be arrogance, cruelty, or unreliability.
What matters most is understanding which traits clash with your values and instincts.
Our instincts are like an internal compass. They quietly warn us when something feels “off.” Ignoring those inner alarms often leads to regret.
But when we trust them, we safeguard our peace of mind and create healthier, more authentic connections.
In today’s world of curated images and social media perfection, this awareness has become more important than ever.
A kind smile or polished words can sometimes mask hidden intentions. By observing carefully—matching words with actions, noticing consistency, and trusting our gut—we can distinguish between genuine people and those whose dishonesty may harm us in the long run.
So, How Do We Deal with Dishonesty?
The key is awareness.
Observe people closely—consistency is a better judge than charm.
Listen to your instincts—your gut often knows before your mind catches up .
Protect your emotional space—set boundaries without shutting people out completely.
Engage genuinely—but don’t ignore early warning signs.
By doing this, we allow ourselves to remain open and kind while also staying safe and discerning.
My final submission
So, the personality trait that raises the biggest red flag for me is dishonesty. Whether it shows up as small lies, manipulation, or fraud, it always leads to broken trust and damaged relationships.
I’ve seen it destroy careers and families, and I know how painful its consequences can be.
That’s why I’ve learned to pay attention not just to what people say, but to what they do repeatedly. Because honesty builds trust, but dishonesty—no matter how small—eventually tears it apart.
Dear friends, I leave you with a question: Which personality trait in others makes you stop, reflect, or step back?
Identifying your red flags is not about judging others—it’s about protecting your own well-being and nurturing only those relationships that are genuine, respectful, and rewarding.
Stay mindful, stay cheerful, and continue building connections that truly matter.
BE HAPPY… BE ACTIVE… BE FOCUSED… BE ALIVE
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The best laid plans and all that ended in disaster.
And tears.
But if anyone asks, I’ll deny I cried.
That plus stress means my other plan, to take some more film photos, also collapsed.
And I will admit crying about that.
So in a last minute attempt to make myself feel like I didn’t totally waste Sunday, I cheated again, and executed a half-baked macro photography plan with my digital camera.
Taken with that new (to me) 100mm macro lens and I still haven’t used it with film.
Maybe today.
Shut your eyes. Don’t look at it, no matter what happens.
And, because I was experimenting with moving the light source while the camera was mounted on a tripod:
It almost feels like a superhero origin story moment…
In order to have a conversation with someone you have to reveal yourself. In order to have a real relationship with somebody you have got to take the risk of being thought, God forbid, “an oddball.” You know, you have to take a chance which in some peculiar way we don’t seem willing to take. ~James Baldwin
Book: The Price of the Ticket
To speak openly, to be known for the whole that is you, is always a risk. Yet without that risk, what we call relationships remain only at the surface level. Baldwin reminds us that honesty and vulnerability, even when they make us appear strange, is the price of connection worth paying. Sometimes being a misfit can make you fit in.
Second test post with auth50 on MyStatusTool at https://john.mystatustool.com/ Adding more content to this post to see if it shows up again in MyStatusTool
The best laid plans and all that ended in disaster.
And tears.
But if anyone asks, I’ll deny I cried.
That plus stress means my other plan, to take some more film photos, also collapsed.
And I will admit crying about that.
So in a last minute attempt to make myself feel like I didn’t totally waste Sunday, I cheated again, and executed a half-baked macro photography plan with my digital camera.
Taken with that new (to me) 100mm macro lens and I still haven’t used it with film.
Maybe today.
Shut your eyes. Don’t look at it, no matter what happens.
And, because I was experimenting with moving the light source while the camera was mounted on a tripod:
It almost feels like a superhero origin story moment…
I’m not a softy. Was never into sappy things. Much preferred to take the ice queen route. Romance is for the birds. Crying is for, criers. Tears of joy, what’s that?
Of course you can’t control the feelings that come, inherently, with being a mom. So that’s where I have to wave the white flag to that, stoic, let’s say, side of me. My kids are just such a part of me that whatever they feel, I feel.
As well, since passing age forty-seven-ish, I’m far more likely to show emotion. In good or bad situations. I just can’t help it. It’s like that one or two days of wearing my emotions on my sleeve when pms’ing, is now a twenty-four seven problem.
Still. Tears of joy? Not sure I know her. Tears of just overwhelming emotion, yeah. Tears of sadness, definitely.
Tears of joy, whenever she shows up I’ll be happy to meet her. I guess.
My sisters & I (I’m in middle and holding a wounded bird we found, which is crazy cause birds scare me)
This poem is a gentle meditation on life’s journey. It reflects how our paths, dreams, and distances are intertwined, and how hope and faith guide us through the unseen challenges. A reminder that every step we take, no matter how uncertain, carries the quiet promise of growth and fulfillment.
“Every road we walk carries a dream, and every dream lights the path to faith.”
Where There Are Roads*
Where there are roads, there are dreams.
Where there are dreams, there are destinations.
Where there are destinations, there are distances.
Where there are distances, there are hopes.
And where there is hope, there is faith.
Faith— the quiet lantern that keeps us walking, even when the night is long, even when the road is unseen.
What was the worst food you ate at somebody’s house out of politeness?
Many things bring a tear of joy – reading a good book, stumbling across the perfect quote, my little girl’s art, or my teen’s rare smile. Conversations, a good movie, small moments, they all matter.
Since WP has been repeating prompts, I’ve had to get creative. Today’s question actually came from my better half.
Honestly, I struggled with this one. My memory is rusting, and it never seems to work when I need it most. But after digging deep into the memory bank, one incident came rushing back.
An aunty – not by relation, but by respect (a cultural thing, we call elders uncle and aunty), once invited me and a friend for lunch. She had prepared a chicken dish. It looked so appetizing, brown, fried and crisp. We eagerly helped ourselves.
Then came the bite. The outside was golden, but the inside was… red. Undercooked. My appetite vanished in an instant. A quick glance at my friend confirmed he was struggling too. We exchanged desperate signals with our eyes, while she sat there, smiling, completely unaware.
Out of respect, I did the only decent thing I could, picked at the cooked brown bits and swallowed them with a polite smile. Needless to say, our stomachs were nowhere near full. Once we left, we had to make a pit stop at a restaurant to truly refuel .
Looking back, I remember less about the chicken and more about her. She was a sweet, gentle soul – probably lonely too, despite having a son. Maybe she often ate alone. That day, though, she had company.
I found some wild stories online.
“Bat soup in Palau. A whole ass bat, just plopped into a pot of broth and served to me still 100% intact. It was my first time meeting my Palauan uncle, and it was a big deal for me to come visit the island, so I felt obligated to try their local foods, especially in front of 20 of his family members. It wasn’t all that bad, though.” —u/TheTallerTaylor
“My mom’s cousin barbecued raccoon for us one night. It was dry and stringy. My dad asked if he chased it for 20 miles before he shot it.” —u/olddog1942
“It was at a friend’s uncle’s house in Louisiana, and I swear it was nutria. I didn’t ask, but it had a distinct rat-like musk. I ate it, said thank you, and puked at the edge of their driveway about 20 minutes later as I drove away.”—u/oldschoolwhitegirl
New Daily Prompt: Ever made plans that you were certain would make everyone happy? Did it work out, or were you blindsided by a complete and total failure?
That’s the last time I try to set up two friends.
And to have it all fall apart at the altar.
Ugh.
You’d think they’d have had the decency to wait until after the Missus and I exchanged vows before having their meltdown!
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is both interesting and nostalgic: “Describe your ideal week.”
As I reflect upon it, I realize that my ideal week is not merely about leisure or routine—it is about meaningful experiences, shared laughter, and memories made with loved ones.
A few years ago, I had the wonderful opportunity to travel to Singapore and Malaysia on a week-long family tour under the Bank’s Leave Fare Concession (LFC) scheme.
That journey remains etched in my memory, and when I think of an ideal week, it is this trip that shines most vividly in my heart.
Day 1 – The Excitement of Departure
The week began with great enthusiasm as we boarded our flight. The very thought of exploring new cultures and destinations filled our hearts with joy.
Traveling with family doubled the excitement—every smile carried the promise of shared memories.
After landing at Changi Airport, we were escorted to our hotel—Hotel Pinnacle. Since the check-in time was 2 PM and we had arrived in the morning, we were asked to wait in the lounge.
Weary from the overnight journey, I requested for an early room. Luckily, by noon we were settled.
After a quick shower and lunch, there was barely any time to rest, because at 6 PM, our first adventure awaited us—the Singapore Night Safari.
The Night Safari is the world’s first nocturnal zoo, home to around 900 animals across 100 species spread over 86 acres.
We boarded an open tram that slowly moved through the dimly lit jungle tracks. Spotting Malayan tigers, Asian elephants, and tapirs in their natural habitats was nothing short of thrilling.
Watching these magnificent creatures under the starry sky was an unforgettable experience. Fatigue melted away, replaced by a surge of excitement.
After a late dinner, we returned to the hotel, hearts full and cameras loaded with memories.
Day 2 – Exploring the Charm of Singapore
The next morning began early with a lavish breakfast at the hotel restaurant. To my delight, there were plenty of Indian dishes like dosa, alongside continental and oriental options.
Traveling with another family—our friends, the Rajesh family—added warmth to the trip.
Our first stop was Universal Studios at Sentosa Island. Spread across themed zones, it felt like stepping into a world of fantasy.
We sailed through the Jurassic Park water ride, where life-sized animatronic dinosaurs leaped out of the jungle with roars and splashes, making us feel as if we had traveled back to prehistoric times.
Shows, 5D movie rides, Hollywood sets, and thrilling roller coasters filled the day with adventure.
In the evening, we visited Orchard Road, Singapore’s shopping paradise. The brightly lit streets, buzzing crowds, and festive decorations turned the night into a carnival.
We explored a mall, indulged in shopping, and ended the day with a hearty Indian dinner. By the time we reached the hotel, exhaustion had taken over, but the joy of discovery outweighed the fatigue.
Day 3 – Sentosa Island Wonders
The third day began with yoga in my room—a quick way to ease travel fatigue. After breakfast, our group headed again toward Sentosa Island, this time to explore other attractions.
We began at the Singapore Zoo, one of the largest in the world. Watching the majestic white lions up close, separated only by a glass panel, was both exciting and humbling.
Next, we visited the Jurong Bird Park, where colorful parrots, flamingos, and hornbills delighted us. I even participated in the bird-feeding program—having exotic birds perch on my shoulders was a joyful and unique experience.
The highlight of the day was the S.E.A. Aquarium, one of the largest in the world. Housing over 100,000 marine animals in 45 million liters of water, it felt like stepping into the depths of the ocean.
Hammerhead sharks glided gracefully above us through glass tunnels, while stingrays, giant crabs, and sea horses swam around us. It was magical and educational, a true window into marine life.
Before heading back, we also visited a Hindu temple in Singapore. Standing in the beautifully decorated sanctum, I felt immense peace.
The divine atmosphere washed away our tiredness, filling us with spiritual calm.
Day 4 – Singapore to Malaysia
This was our last day in Singapore. After breakfast, we visited Merlion Park, home to the iconic half-lion, half-fish statue symbolizing Singapore’s heritage. Standing tall against the skyline, it offered perfect photo opportunities.
From there, we boarded the Singapore Flyer, one of the tallest observation wheels in the world.
Inside the glass capsule, we soared high above the city, witnessing breathtaking 360-degree views of Marina Bay, skyscrapers, and distant islands.
The experience of watching the sunset from such a height remains one of my favorite memories.
Later, we explored Little India, a neighborhood brimming with Indian restaurants, shops, and cultural charm. From dosa stalls to jewelry shops, it felt like a slice of home in a foreign land.
It was heartwarming to see Indian traditions alive in Singapore, far from our homeland.
By evening, we traveled by road to Malaysia, crossing the border and entering Kuala Lumpur. The sight of the city at night, glittering with lights, was mesmerizing.
Day 5 – Kuala Lumpur and the Petronas Towers
Our first destination in Malaysia was the world-famous Petronas Twin Towers. Standing beneath these 88-story marvels of steel and glass, I felt a surge of awe.
The two towers, connected by a skybridge, dominate the Kuala Lumpur skyline. At night, illuminated by thousands of lights, they looked breathtakingly beautiful.
Next, we visited the Aquaria KLCC, an underwater world showcasing fascinating marine life. Walking through the 90-meter tunnel surrounded by sharks and stingrays gave us the illusion of strolling across the seabed.
Later, we strolled around the KLCC Park, with its palm trees, fountains, and open spaces offering a refreshing break from the city buzz.
Day 6 – Cultural Glimpses and Shopping
Malaysia is not just about skyscrapers—it is also rich in culture. We visited the Batu Caves, a Hindu pilgrimage site.
Climbing the colorful steps with the towering golden statue of Lord Murugan watching over us was an experience in itself. Inside, the cave temple left us awestruck with its natural formations and divine serenity.
The rest of the day was lighter. We explored Bukit Bintang, Kuala Lumpur’s shopping hub.
From luxury malls to street stalls, there was something for everyone. Savoring Malaysian street food and bargaining in local markets gave us a true taste of the country’s diversity.
Day 7 – Farewell with Full Hearts
The final day was spent leisurely, recalling our adventures over breakfast, packing souvenirs, and capturing a few last photographs.
As we boarded our return flight, there was a bittersweet feeling—sadness that the journey had ended, but joy for the priceless memories we were carrying home.
Reflections on My Ideal Week
When I think of what makes a week “ideal,” it is not about indulgence or luxury alone.
For me, an ideal week is about balance—adventure, relaxation, cultural discovery, and most importantly, family bonding.
This Singapore-Malaysia trip was exactly that. From the futuristic skyline of Singapore to the cultural heart of Malaysia, from roller coaster rides to temple visits, from shopping malls to spiritual moments, it had everything.
Each day brought a new surprise, a new lesson, and a new memory.
Even today, whenever daily life feels monotonous, I recall this journey, and my spirit is instantly uplifted. It reminds me that life is not measured in days, but in experiences and the love we share with those around us.
So, if I were asked to describe my ideal week, without hesitation, I would choose this unforgettable journey—a week where every sunrise promised adventure, and every sunset left us with gratitude and joy.
Travel Tips for Your Ideal Week
Plan Ahead: Book flights, hotels, and attractions in advance to avoid last-minute stress.
Balance Activities: Mix adventure (theme parks, safaris) with leisure (shopping, temple visits) for a fulfilling experience.
Pack Smart: Carry comfortable shoes, light clothes, and a power bank for long days.
Taste Local Cuisine: Trying authentic dishes is part of the travel charm—don’t just stick to familiar food.
Capture Memories: Photos are treasures, but don’t forget to pause and simply enjoy the moment.
Why Family Travel Matters
Traveling with family turns a simple trip into a heartfelt experience.
It strengthens bonds, creates shared stories, and allows everyone to see each other in new lights—sometimes as explorers, sometimes as children at heart.
The laughter on rides, the joy of shopping together, or simply holding hands while walking in a foreign city—these are the little things that make travel unforgettable.
Family travel teaches us patience, teamwork, and gratitude. More than the places we visit, it is the people we are with who make a week truly “ideal.”
I hope this blog finds you in a cheerful mood. Today’s writing prompt is both interesting and nostalgic: “Describe your ideal week.”
As I reflect upon it, I realize that my ideal week is not merely about leisure or routine—it is about meaningful experiences, shared laughter, and memories made with loved ones.
A few years ago, I had the wonderful opportunity to travel to Singapore and Malaysia on a week-long family tour under the Bank’s Leave Fare Concession (LFC) scheme.
That journey remains etched in my memory, and when I think of an ideal week, it is this trip that shines most vividly in my heart.
Day 1 – The Excitement of Departure
The week began with great enthusiasm as we boarded our flight. The very thought of exploring new cultures and destinations filled our hearts with joy.
Traveling with family doubled the excitement—every smile carried the promise of shared memories.
After landing at Changi Airport, we were escorted to our hotel—Hotel Pinnacle. Since the check-in time was 2 PM and we had arrived in the morning, we were asked to wait in the lounge.
Weary from the overnight journey, I requested for an early room. Luckily, by noon we were settled.
After a quick shower and lunch, there was barely any time to rest, because at 6 PM, our first adventure awaited us—the Singapore Night Safari.
The Night Safari is the world’s first nocturnal zoo, home to around 900 animals across 100 species spread over 86 acres.
We boarded an open tram that slowly moved through the dimly lit jungle tracks. Spotting Malayan tigers, Asian elephants, and tapirs in their natural habitats was nothing short of thrilling.
Watching these magnificent creatures under the starry sky was an unforgettable experience. Fatigue melted away, replaced by a surge of excitement.
After a late dinner, we returned to the hotel, hearts full and cameras loaded with memories.
Day 2 – Exploring the Charm of Singapore
The next morning began early with a lavish breakfast at the hotel restaurant. To my delight, there were plenty of Indian dishes like dosa, alongside continental and oriental options.
Traveling with another family—our friends, the Rajesh family—added warmth to the trip.
Our first stop was Universal Studios at Sentosa Island. Spread across themed zones, it felt like stepping into a world of fantasy.
We sailed through the Jurassic Park water ride, where life-sized animatronic dinosaurs leaped out of the jungle with roars and splashes, making us feel as if we had traveled back to prehistoric times.
Shows, 5D movie rides, Hollywood sets, and thrilling roller coasters filled the day with adventure.
In the evening, we visited Orchard Road, Singapore’s shopping paradise. The brightly lit streets, buzzing crowds, and festive decorations turned the night into a carnival.
We explored a mall, indulged in shopping, and ended the day with a hearty Indian dinner. By the time we reached the hotel, exhaustion had taken over, but the joy of discovery outweighed the fatigue.
Day 3 – Sentosa Island Wonders
The third day began with yoga in my room—a quick way to ease travel fatigue. After breakfast, our group headed again toward Sentosa Island, this time to explore other attractions.
We began at the Singapore Zoo, one of the largest in the world. Watching the majestic white lions up close, separated only by a glass panel, was both exciting and humbling.
Next, we visited the Jurong Bird Park, where colorful parrots, flamingos, and hornbills delighted us. I even participated in the bird-feeding program—having exotic birds perch on my shoulders was a joyful and unique experience.
The highlight of the day was the S.E.A. Aquarium, one of the largest in the world. Housing over 100,000 marine animals in 45 million liters of water, it felt like stepping into the depths of the ocean.
Hammerhead sharks glided gracefully above us through glass tunnels, while stingrays, giant crabs, and sea horses swam around us. It was magical and educational, a true window into marine life.
Before heading back, we also visited a Hindu temple in Singapore. Standing in the beautifully decorated sanctum, I felt immense peace.
The divine atmosphere washed away our tiredness, filling us with spiritual calm.
Day 4 – Singapore to Malaysia
This was our last day in Singapore. After breakfast, we visited Merlion Park, home to the iconic half-lion, half-fish statue symbolizing Singapore’s heritage. Standing tall against the skyline, it offered perfect photo opportunities.
From there, we boarded the Singapore Flyer, one of the tallest observation wheels in the world.
Inside the glass capsule, we soared high above the city, witnessing breathtaking 360-degree views of Marina Bay, skyscrapers, and distant islands.
The experience of watching the sunset from such a height remains one of my favorite memories.
Later, we explored Little India, a neighborhood brimming with Indian restaurants, shops, and cultural charm. From dosa stalls to jewelry shops, it felt like a slice of home in a foreign land.
It was heartwarming to see Indian traditions alive in Singapore, far from our homeland.
By evening, we traveled by road to Malaysia, crossing the border and entering Kuala Lumpur. The sight of the city at night, glittering with lights, was mesmerizing.
Day 5 – Kuala Lumpur and the Petronas Towers
Our first destination in Malaysia was the world-famous Petronas Twin Towers. Standing beneath these 88-story marvels of steel and glass, I felt a surge of awe.
The two towers, connected by a skybridge, dominate the Kuala Lumpur skyline. At night, illuminated by thousands of lights, they looked breathtakingly beautiful.
Next, we visited the Aquaria KLCC, an underwater world showcasing fascinating marine life. Walking through the 90-meter tunnel surrounded by sharks and stingrays gave us the illusion of strolling across the seabed.
Later, we strolled around the KLCC Park, with its palm trees, fountains, and open spaces offering a refreshing break from the city buzz.
Day 6 – Cultural Glimpses and Shopping
Malaysia is not just about skyscrapers—it is also rich in culture. We visited the Batu Caves, a Hindu pilgrimage site.
Climbing the colorful steps with the towering golden statue of Lord Murugan watching over us was an experience in itself. Inside, the cave temple left us awestruck with its natural formations and divine serenity.
The rest of the day was lighter. We explored Bukit Bintang, Kuala Lumpur’s shopping hub.
From luxury malls to street stalls, there was something for everyone. Savoring Malaysian street food and bargaining in local markets gave us a true taste of the country’s diversity.
Day 7 – Farewell with Full Hearts
The final day was spent leisurely, recalling our adventures over breakfast, packing souvenirs, and capturing a few last photographs.
As we boarded our return flight, there was a bittersweet feeling—sadness that the journey had ended, but joy for the priceless memories we were carrying home.
Reflections on My Ideal Week
When I think of what makes a week “ideal,” it is not about indulgence or luxury alone.
For me, an ideal week is about balance—adventure, relaxation, cultural discovery, and most importantly, family bonding.
This Singapore-Malaysia trip was exactly that. From the futuristic skyline of Singapore to the cultural heart of Malaysia, from roller coaster rides to temple visits, from shopping malls to spiritual moments, it had everything.
Each day brought a new surprise, a new lesson, and a new memory.
Even today, whenever daily life feels monotonous, I recall this journey, and my spirit is instantly uplifted. It reminds me that life is not measured in days, but in experiences and the love we share with those around us.
So, if I were asked to describe my ideal week, without hesitation, I would choose this unforgettable journey—a week where every sunrise promised adventure, and every sunset left us with gratitude and joy.
Travel Tips for Your Ideal Week
Plan Ahead: Book flights, hotels, and attractions in advance to avoid last-minute stress.
Balance Activities: Mix adventure (theme parks, safaris) with leisure (shopping, temple visits) for a fulfilling experience.
Pack Smart: Carry comfortable shoes, light clothes, and a power bank for long days.
Taste Local Cuisine: Trying authentic dishes is part of the travel charm—don’t just stick to familiar food.
Capture Memories: Photos are treasures, but don’t forget to pause and simply enjoy the moment.
Why Family Travel Matters
Traveling with family turns a simple trip into a heartfelt experience.
It strengthens bonds, creates shared stories, and allows everyone to see each other in new lights—sometimes as explorers, sometimes as children at heart.
The laughter on rides, the joy of shopping together, or simply holding hands while walking in a foreign city—these are the little things that make travel unforgettable.
Family travel teaches us patience, teamwork, and gratitude. More than the places we visit, it is the people we are with who make a week truly “ideal.”
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
She walked away. For the first time in a long time, she saw clearly. For the first time in forever, she understood the truth. It had come so unexpectedly, in a staggering revelation which had caught her so off guard, her jaw, quite literally, dropped. She had been so sure, so confident, so absolutely convinced she understood what was happening, what was at stake, what outcome seemed absolutely inevitable. The impasse seemed inevitable; the intentional chasm yawning between them, the gradual, inexorable wearing down of connection, which seemed to make reconciliation untenable.
With tear-stained cheeks, she took a breath, determined that it was to be the last time they saw each other, that they would end with complete truth, complete honesty. So she’d asked the question she had never asked; the question she had been so sure she knew the answer to was finally spoken. His answer had dumbfounded her. But once the haze of bafflement had cleared, the light of revelation began to take its place. All that she had taken for granted, all the assumptions she had built so many fears and frustrations upon, faltered and fell.
Had it really been so simple? Was it truly possible that it all came down to misunderstanding? A miscommunication of intentions? Two love languages simply lost in translation?
The weight in her heart warily lifted. It seemed deceptively simple, after so many years of fighting their unspoken battle, leaving scars which left them both a little shell-shocked, it seemed impossible that they could find healing so easily. And yet… Perhaps… All it took was a different point of view.
1. A work in progress; a complex amalgamation of memories, dreams and inspiration. 2. A mother, grandmother, daughter, teacher, girlfriend, and wanderer through the world. 3. An aspiring author and poet; a creator of images and entities designed to amuse, enlighten, and entertain. 4. A struggling soul with a restless heart, searching for meaning and a connection to her Creator. 5. A tragi-comedic satire with every hope of a happy ending. 6. An unfinished work of art.
PROMPT #396
This week, I invite you to imagine that a page in a dictionary belongs solely to you.
What are the words that you would choose to describe yourself and your life’s vision and mission. Are you happy with what you see, or would you like to tweak something?
1. A work in progress; a complex amalgamation of memories, dreams and inspiration. 2. A mother, grandmother, daughter, teacher, girlfriend, and wanderer through the world. 3. An aspiring author and poet; a creator of images and entities designed to amuse, enlighten, and entertain. 4. A struggling soul with a restless heart, searching for meaning and a connection to her Creator. 5. A tragi-comedic satire with every hope of a happy ending. 6. An unfinished work of art.
PROMPT #396
This week, I invite you to imagine that a page in a dictionary belongs solely to you.
What are the words that you would choose to describe yourself and your life’s vision and mission. Are you happy with what you see, or would you like to tweak something?
*I was inspired by the lyrics of the song. Nothing more than that.*
The echoes of lyrics ringing in my mind
We looked for satisfaction, but what did we find?
In the darkness we find what we’ve been concealing
In the shadows, though hidden, are in fact more revealing
The unfulfilled wishes and dreams unsatisfying
At last, we admit all that we’ve been denying
The love that you want requires my submission
Although you have never made this admission
You are my lover, my love, and my friend
But you are not my savior, nor do I depend
On your affirmation to make me fulfilled
If your satisfaction means I must yield
Then the balance, I long for, I crave and I need
The essential connection for us to succeed
In only a farce, a facade, an illusion
And I will not continue to indulge the delusion
So I pray that we can find equality
If not, I regret, it is not meant to be.
If not, if I must choose
I will choose me.
Is it getting better, or do you feel the same? Will it make it easier on you, now you got someone to blame? You say one love, one life, when it’s one need in the night. One love, we get to share it Leaves you baby if you don’t care for it.
Did I disappoint you or leave a bad taste in your mouth? You act like you never had love and you want me to go without. Well, it’s too late tonight to drag the past out into the light. We’re one, but we’re not the same. We get to carry each other, carry each other… one
Have you come here for forgiveness, Have you come to raise the dead Have you come here to play Jesus to the lepers in your head Did I ask too much, more than a lot You gave me nothing, now it’s all I got. We’re one, but we’re not the same. Well, we hurt each other, then we do it again.
You say love is a temple, love a higher law Love is a temple, love the higher law. You ask me to enter, but then you make me crawl And I can’t be holding on to what you got, when all you got is hurt.
One love, one blood, one life, you got to do what you should. One life with each other: sisters, brothers. One life, but we’re not the same. We get to carry each other, carry each other. One, one.
8. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. 9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” 10 As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater 11 So is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.
I needed these verses today. Over the last few weeks, my Bible in a Year has been going through the book of Isaiah. There are so many verses which hit, but these last few days/weeks, I have been weary. I have felt discouraged. I have wondered about the promises which I “rationally” accept and believe because it is part of my faith, but which in my depths sound somewhat hollow.
How do we hope when it seems hopeless? How do we trust in the rain when all we seem to see in barren desert? I feel very Job-like in these moments. Not that I’ve experienced true affliction, but at times it just feels like the way we hope, or expect things are supposed to go, seem so far from the reality.
Then I remember, “My thoughts are not your thoughts. My ways are not Your ways.” Oh yeah, duh. Maybe Our Creator and God has a slightly broader perspective. If everything else in nature follows a logical and productive progression, and we are also part of his Creation, perhaps we should have a little faith that “someday, things will get a little bit easier.” to quote the Five Stairsteps. I may not feel like we mount up on wings like eagles, but we will find the strength we never knew we had.
I hope this helps you today. I know it was the reminder I needed. Have a great rest of your day.
What is gain? What does it mean to love it? Do we love gain for its own sake or for what we can do with it? Is loving gain the same thing as being greedy? Can you be greedy for non-material gain? Is there a difference between loss and negative gain? Can we gain from asking these questions about the nature of gain?
These are the questions that my 10th graders tackled today. What a cool job I have that these are the questions I get paid to wrestle with. What do you think?
Protest ICE Collaboration in Loudoun County! Indivisible NoVa West is looking for people in Leesburg to come by the Sheriff's office on Sycolin road today between 4:30 and 6:00 to protest using tax payers funds to support deportations. If you are in Leesburg today please stop by WHEN: Today at 4:30 to 6:00 PM in […]
Judge blocks Trump on birthright citizenship despite supreme court ruling – US politics live US judge backs immigrant rights advocates seeking class-action status for a lawsuit to protect babies whose citizenship could be threatened by Trump’s directive You can read the trove of documents Erez Reuveni turned over to the senate judiciary committee here. Erez […]
I read a lot of political newsletters so you don't have to. Like many, I believe the left is missing a huge opportunity to reach new audiences by their lack of understanding and use of new media. Simon Rosenberg, founder of Hopium Chronicles and Tara McGowan founder of Courier have one of the best conversations […]
Trump Says He's Weighing Federal Takeover of Washington, DC (Josh Wingrove/Bloomberg) Josh Wingrove / Bloomberg:Trump Says He's Weighing Federal Takeover of Washington, DC — President Donald Trump said his administration is weighing whether to take control of the city of Washington, DC, to help combat crime, in a move that would represent a dramatic upheaval […]
Coined by civil rights leader Congressman John Lewis, "Good Trouble" is the action of coming together to take peaceful, non-violent action to challenge injustice and create meaningful change. The civil rights leaders of the past have shown us the power of collective action. That’s why on July 17, five years since the passing of Congressman […]
Please feel free to forward and share. Written in WordLand and powered by WordPress.com This is an excerpt from an email from Erza Levin co-founder of Indivisible. I do not think the media, political commentators, or the public at-large understand just how enormous and society-changing this part of the bill is. And I think it […]
Please feel free to forward and share. Written in WordLand and powered by WordPress.com This is an excerpt from an email from Erza Levin co-founder of Indivisible. I do not think the media, political commentators, or the public at-large understand just how enormous and society-changing this part of the bill is. And I think it […]
Please feel free to forward and share. Written in WordLand and powered by WordPress.com This is an excerpt from an email from Erza Levin co-founder of Indivisible. I do not think the media, political commentators, or the public at-large understand just how enormous and society-changing this part of the bill is. And I think it […]
I do not think the media, political commentators, or the public at-large understand just how enormous and society-changing this part of the bill is. And I think it would be good for all of us to get real smart real fast on what’s coming soon to a community near you. This is the part of […]
Please feel free to forward and share. Written in WordLand powered by WordPress.com Heavily armed immigration agents descend on MacArthur Park in L.A. (Los Angeles Times) Dozens of immigration agents, some on horseback, others carrying rifles in armored vehicles, swept through MacArthur Park on Monday in an extraordinary show of force at the heart of […]
Please feel free to forward and share. Written in WordLand powered by WordPress.com Heavily armed immigration agents descend on MacArthur Park in L.A. (Los Angeles Times) Dozens of immigration agents, some on horseback, others carrying rifles in armored vehicles, swept through MacArthur Park on Monday in an extraordinary show of force at the heart of […]
Public Notice, Trump gutted the weather service. Then Texas flooded. It's a brutal reminder that in disasters, we need the federal government. Over the weekend, torrential rains struck central Texas, causing the Guadalupe River to surge more than 20 feet in 90 minutes. State and local officials blamed federal weather forecasters for underestimating the amount […]
Public Notice, Trump gutted the weather service. Then Texas flooded. It's a brutal reminder that in disasters, we need the federal government. Over the weekend, torrential rains struck central Texas, causing the Guadalupe River to surge more than 20 feet in 90 minutes. State and local officials blamed federal weather forecasters for underestimating the amount […]
Public Notice, Trump gutted the weather service. Then Texas flooded. It's a brutal reminder that in disasters, we need the federal government. Over the weekend, torrential rains struck central Texas, causing the Guadalupe River to surge more than 20 feet in 90 minutes. State and local officials blamed federal weather forecasters for underestimating the amount […]
Please feel free to foward and share. Loudoun Now, Loudoun’s Leaders Anticipate Federal Budget Impacts As the House of Representatives debates over President Donald J. Trump’s “big, beautiful bill” Loudoun’s leaders are working to identify, and mitigate, its impacts on the county. A leading concern has been the changes to Medicaid and the Supplemental Nutrition […]
Please feel free to foward and share. Loudoun Now, Loudoun’s Leaders Anticipate Federal Budget Impacts As the House of Representatives debates over President Donald J. Trump’s “big, beautiful bill” Loudoun’s leaders are working to identify, and mitigate, its impacts on the county. A leading concern has been the changes to Medicaid and the Supplemental Nutrition […]
Loudoun Now, Loudoun’s Leaders Anticipate Federal Budget Impacts As the House of Representatives debates over President Donald J. Trump’s “big, beautiful bill” Loudoun’s leaders are working to identify, and mitigate, its impacts on the county. A leading concern has been the changes to Medicaid and the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program. The bill could result in […]
Loudoun Now, Loudoun’s Leaders Anticipate Federal Budget Impacts As the House of Representatives debates over President Donald J. Trump’s “big, beautiful bill” Loudoun’s leaders are working to identify, and mitigate, its impacts on the county. A leading concern has been the changes to Medicaid and the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program. The bill could result in […]
PREVAIL, Fascism in the USA Enters the Fifth & Final Phase Fascism in the USA Enters the Fifth & Final Phase — A survey of the work of fascism experts shows that, five months into the Trump Redux, our democracy is reeling. Can it be saved? — I. What a Difference a Year Makes In “Slouching […]
PREVAIL, Fascism in the USA Enters the Fifth & Final Phase Fascism in the USA Enters the Fifth & Final Phase — A survey of the work of fascism experts shows that, five months into the Trump Redux, our democracy is reeling. Can it be saved? — I. What a Difference a Year Makes In “Slouching […]
Feel free to forward and share I hate to quote the duke of darkness but we need to put as much pressure on the republican senators as possible no matter from what quarter it oozes. Note: I am suspending the DOGE REPORT for this week. The amount of DOGE news has slowed and I need […]
Pretty sure I would have hated ageism in politics before I got so old. I’m even older than Cuomo, but I still understand hackery. Wish there was an emoji for a raised middle finger.
Krugman doesn’t understand what’s coming for NYC. And doesn’t understand the leadership Cuomo uniquely provided at the height of Covid. It’s pretty likely what’s coming for the city is probably going to be worse than Covid or 9-11.
In the fifties in the era of velvet elvis paintings women, mostly, would project their vision of their plastic wrapped living rooms into the garden. And, invariable the centerpiece of this vision of domestic harmony and grace was a 3 foot white pedestal with reflective ball in hue of choose. Typically next to this highly […]
In the fifties in the era of velvet elvis paintings women, mostly, would project their vision of their plastic wrapped living rooms into the garden. And, invariable the centerpiece of this vision of domestic harmony and grace was a 3 foot white pedestal with reflective ball in hue of choose. Typically next to this highly […]
In the fifties in the era of velvet elvis paintings women, mostly, would project their vision of their plastic wrapped living rooms into the garden. And, invariable the centerpiece of this vision of domestic harmony and grace was a 3 foot white pedestal with reflective ball in hue of choose. Typically next to this highly […]
In my latest podcast I talked about WordPress as "the operating system for the open social web." Jeremy Hervé who works at Automattic on WordPress liked the idea, explained in this blog post.
that need to unite! To the Palestinians to the Iranians to the Americans and to all the opppressed and misrepresented to all people all over the world that are suffering a loss of our collective future at the hands of deceivers, devils and despots!
Ahh, the secular world has such trouble writing about faith or even understanding let alone referencing historic teachings and writings on religious attitude as a way to organize one's life. Experts identify the simple emotion that gives life meaning – and it's not happiness ByRodielon Putol Earth.com staff writer _Hope isn’t just a nice feeling […]
https://chatgpt.com/s/t_6858140740e48191acc92473833b5cee just a tad better than what I hear from my local priest. There are some nuggets in there. # 4 Speak Truth in Love is something new worth exploring. I am all about speaking truth but the other side of 'in love' is gone. hmmm. interesting
"Trump has not put U.S. boots on the ground to fight Iran, but he has put U.S. troops on the ground for an uninvited military occupation of California."
The Copilot Delusion. (I use ChatGPT as a consultant. It's incredible about facts, it knows things I'll never find. But you can't let it drive the direction of the work, it has terrible judgement.)
As a member of ICE, you may be wondering: How are the people we thrust into our vans supposed to know that we are, in fact, acting under color of law and not just kidnapping them?
Oh WordPress, why do you want to open old wounds? The day is almost over, so I’m going to keep the short and sweet. But I would be remiss if I didn’t pay a brief homage to the first boy who broke my heart and is responsible for the start of my poetic journey.
I was an eighth grader and might as well have had a kick Me sign permanently taped to my back. I wasn’t actively picked on. I was just a defective outcast who spent a lot of time listening to Pink Floyd’s The Wall on repeat. Ironically, I also loved school dances because even though no one would dance with me I was a dancing queen so I wasn’t fully angsty or anything.
Middle school was weird that year. The cream of the crop in terms of the cool factor seem to belong largely not to the eighth graders, but to the sixth graders. Not one, not two, but three of the most popular eighth grade girls chose to have sixth grade boyfriends. You can decide what that says about the eighth grade boys
I was not a cool eighth grade girl, but I had a massive crush on a sixth grade boy. He just exuded coolness, and he knew it. I think he knew I liked him probably due to his older brother, a fellow eighth grader, knowing it and passing the information along. I don’t have a official confirmation of this, but I’m pretty sure.
In any case, as is usual, when one is hopelessly pathetically smitten it was unrequited. I would look longingly across the Dancefloor, hoping I would be asked to be his partner for a slow dance, and my heart would break a little when he would opt for the cute blonde haired blue eyed Girl who had reached puberty long before I did.
The one good thing that came out of it was, I began writing. I wrote a lot. Most of it was awful, but some of it I can still look back at without completely cringing.
I’m not sure what happened to that boy; I saw him once or twice over the years because of family crossover situations, but eventually I got over it and moved onto better things. Fortunately, my poetry remains have a great day.
After blowing up FEMA and trying to overthrow the governor of California, reorganizing the financial system of the world, and plotting to blow up Iran, the hurricanes didn’t get the memo.
If you had told me that I would have visited 13 countries by the time I was 50, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. Not because I wouldn’t have wanted to, but because it would have seem so daunting and unachievable. But thanks to a combination of luck and generosity, I have been blessed to have experiences which have opened my mind and my eyes, and which I will never forget.
So where to next? The last time a similar prompt came up, I composed a poem just for the occasion. But this time, I’m sticking with prose. The world is so varied and magical, it’s really hard to choose, and it seems a cop out to say “all of them” and also, strictly speaking, not true. So here are my top ten. The first four of of them would be revisits, because there’s always more the explore, but the remainder would be completely new.
France
England
Spain
Greece
Italy
Ireland
India
Israel
Iceland
South Africa
I know I’ll get to some of these sooner than others; I promised myself Italy would be my 50th birthday present to myself. I also want to spend more time exploring my own country, which is as diverse in many aspects as different parts of the world. In the end, I think what matters is to never stop exploring
If you had told me that I would have visited 13 countries by the time I was 50, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. Not because I wouldn’t have wanted to, but because it would have seem do daunting and unachievable. But thanks to a combination of luck and generosity, I have been blessed to have experiences which have opened my mind and my eyes, and which I will never forget.
So where to next? The last time a similar prompt came up, I composed a poem just for the occasion. But this time, I’m sticking with prose. The world is so varied and magical, it’s really hard to choose, and it seems a cop out to say “all of them” and also, strictly speaking, not true. So here are my top ten. The first four of of them would be revisits, because there’s always more the explore, but the remainder would be completely new.
France
England
Spain
Greece
Italy
Ireland
India
Israel
Iceland
South Africa
I know I’ll get to some of these sooner than others; I promised myself Italy would be my 50th birthday present to myself. I also want to spend more time exploring my own country, which is as diverse in many aspects as different parts of the world. In the end, I think what matters is to never stop exploring
Is this my cue to demur or should I just be hones? I know it’s so much easier to acknowledge our faults and failing, is it bragging to admit you like yourself? I’m the second to admit my flaws, my children will always beat me to it but I think it’s OK to admit the ways in which you’re pretty kind of cool..
Looking back, shockingly I realized I’d answered a similar question back in December. In fairness WordPress, you tweaked it a little, the last question was five things you like about yourself. But being the indecisive person, I am I don’t know if I could choose. Someone else could probably answer this about me better than I could about myself.
But rather than linking the original post, I’m just gonna share it here. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day.
My Gifts
Decisions, decisions
Do I own my strengths or minimize them? Do I self deprecate and turn away
Or shall I simply step forth and own who I am?
Since I’m made it God’s image and have been blessed with good genes
I might as well admit I have at least a few good things
*back to prose *
1) I am excellent at remembering super esoteric but fun facts. This makes me a potentially super annoying person. If you don’t care about word origins or random history or literature tidbits, but it makes me great as a trivia partner
2) I can and enjoy having conversations about pretty much anything. As long as you know what you’re talking about and are interested in it, count me in.
3) I am at my core an optimist. I will find a silver lining or a bright side to almost everything. Sometimes this may make me seem naïve, but on the plus side, I will never given to full cynicism or negativity
4) I am fairly good at trying to see both sides of an issue. As I may have said before, you can blame it on my being a Libra if you want, but I think it’s important to try and understand multiple perspectives. I may not agree with all of them, but I will try to understand.
5) I am a passionate person. Whatever I do, I try to do with as much enjoyment and enthusiasm as possible. This serves me well, especially as a teacher because I am excited about the material I teach, and try to find as many engaging ways as possible to bring that joy and interest to the class. It may not always work, but I always try
It’s a beautiful day. The rental my parents procured is literally across the boardwalk from the beach, so the view from my widow is literally this.
Tough life. right? In all seriousness, this has been really nice. I have been able to have more down time to chat and chill with my family, and just soak up life. I can’t quite shake the feeling I should be doing something, but when it gets too bad, I go to a yoga class or go for a run The latter is much easier to accomplish when the temperatures are in the seventies rather than the current AZ temperature of 99.
I got up later than usual today, but I’d woken up about five times during the night, so it balances out. Then I ran from on end of the beach to the other, crossed the street and ran back on the bay side. I forgot to track my run accurately, so I can’t tell you how long it was, but it was nice. I’m going to get some writing in, then go to yoga. One of the great things about San Diego: there is no shortage of yoga studios
I need to go down to the beach; it just feels wrong not to actually touch sand, but I really can’t just lounge around for extended periods of time, so maybe I’ll hunt for shells to bring back to the munchkin.
I know this is half poetry/half travel post, but that’s where my mind is today. I hope you all are well. God Bless.
We are focused on winning back the Virginia Governorship this year and alerting all readers to events were they can participate. If you have time please sign-up for an event. Feel free to forward and share this widely We’ve got another exciting week ahead—and before we jump into it, let’s take a moment to celebrate […]
We are focused on winning back the Virginia Governorship this year and alerting all readers to events were they can participate. If you have time please sign-up for an event. Feel free to forward and share this widely We’ve got another exciting week ahead—and before we jump into it, let’s take a moment to celebrate […]
Happy Tuesday wonderful people. I hope wherever you’re at and whatever you’re doing you are feeling you know what a gift you are to the world. I hope you know any challenges you face will pass, and that you are part of a perfect plan. Have a great rest of your day.
Happy Tuesday wonderful people. I hope wherever you’re at and whatever you’re doing you are feeling you know what a gift you are to the world. I hope you know any challenges you face will pass, and that you are part of a perfect plan. Have a great rest of your day.
Happy Tuesday wonderful people. I hope wherever you’re at and whatever you’re doing you are feeling you know what a gift you are to the world. I hope you know any challenges you face will pass, and that you are part of a perfect plan. Have a great rest of your day.
It was one week ago this morinng that I finally sat down to really start pushing No Kings registrations and wrote this and shared it with you all. At that time 230 people had registgered for NoKings at Berryville. What a change one week can make in a life and in the life of a nation. […]
It was one week ago this morinng that I finally sat down to really start pushing No Kings registrations and wrote this and shared it with you all. At that time 230 people had registgered for NoKings at Berryville. What a change one week can make in a life and in the life of a nation. […]
It was your day and it was a great day for our community and our nation to show the world that Americans are standing up and saying NO to Trump and his Republican enablers. Thank you for coming out to Berryville from all over the area. We could not be more proud! Thank you! You […]
Scripting News: Democratic resurrection plan. The first step is to ignore CNN, the NYT (esp Ezra Klein), MSNBC, Washington Post et al. When they’re complaining, you’re on the right track. They need to be utterly disempowered. We can’t win so stop trying.
The shootings have deeply unnerved members of Congress, who feel that any one of them could be the subject of an unanticipated attack — particularly at home in their districts and while in transit.
The man that brought a thousand people to town. now young and old where before they were boomers playing dress-up hardly breathing is there a pulse? A beast, you say? History proves one thing that things don't end well for despots on wrong side of the people. Two counties south of me, in and around […]
The man that brought a thousand people to town. now young and old where before they were boomers playing dress-up hardly breathing is there a pulse? A beast you say? History proves one thing that things don't end well for despots on wrong side of the people. Two counties south of me, in or around […]
The man that brought a thousand people to town. now young and old where before they were boomers playing dress-up hardly breathing is there a pulse? History proves one thing that things don't end well for despots on wrong side of the people. Two counties south of me, in or around Orange County Virginia. is […]
The man that brought a thousand people to town. now young and old where before they were boomers playing dress-up hardly breathing is there a pulse? History proves one thing that things don't end well for despots on wrong side of the people. Two counties south of me, in or around Orange County Virginia. is […]
The man that brought a thousand people to town. now young and old where before was boomers playing dress-up hardly breathing is there a pulse? History proves one thing that things don't end well for despots on wrong side of the people. Two counties south of me, in or around Orange County Virginia. is a […]
The most exhausting part of travelling isn’t the actual act of travelling; it’s making all the preparations to travel. Why else would I feel more exhausted trying to make all of necessary arrangements than I’ve ever felt on an actual trip. Hiking Cotopaxi in a blizzard feels like it was a breeze compared to trying to find pet friendly hotels between here and Washington that have decent rating and aren’t ridiculously overpriced.
Mission accomplished though. Now I just have to do laundry and get a decent rest before tomorrow. I should be able to run and get coffee with my middle daughter before I catch my flight. I’m lending her my car while I’m gone, so the trade off it I get a free ride to the airport.
I’m finally excited about my inpending beach vacation. I’m going to bring my computer so I can still write. I’m also going to start looking through my poems to see which are actually worth publication. Maybe I’ll even write another chapter in my book. If I do, you all will be the second to know
This is going to be the third national day of action and there is not record of any problems with the first two but now Governor Youngkin and Abbott want to taunt us and bring out the worst of our nature by deploying the national guard. I am offended other than a few loud exchanges […]
This is going to be the third national day of action and there is not record of any problems with the first two but now Governor Youngkin and Abbott want to taunt us and bring out the worst of our nature by deploying the national guard. I am offended other than a few loud exchanges […]
This is going to be the third national day of action and there is not record of any problems with the first two but now Governor Youngkin and Abbott want to taunt us and bring out the worst of our nature by deploying the national guard. I am offended other than a few loud exchanges […]
Mobillize.us gmail, docs/sheets wordland wordpress.com Mobilize.us which is bit of amorpheus organization with some technological chops supporting diverse sets of grassroots advocacy groups. What they do that is great is they handle event sign-up and follow-up end-to-end with SMS, email, web support in highly automated manner. You really don't have to do literally anything but […]
Mobillize.us gmail, docs/sheets wordland wordpress.com Mobilize.us which is bit of amorpheus organization with some technological chops supporting diverse sets of grassroots advocacy groups. What they do that is great is they handle event sign-up and follow-up end-to-end with SMS, email, web support in highly automated manner. You really don't have to do literally anything but […]
Mobillize.us gmail, docs/sheets wordland wordpress.com Mobilize.us which is bit of amorpheus organization with some technological chops supporting diverse sets of grassroots advocacy groups. What they do that is great is they handle event sign-up and follow-up end-to-end with SMS, email, web support in highly automated maner. You really don't have to do literally anything but […]
Mobillize.us gmail, docs/sheets wordland wordpress.com Mobilize.us which is bit of amorpheus organization with some technological chops supporting diverse sets or grassroots advocacy groups. What they do that is great is they handle event sign-up and follow-up end-to-end with SMS, email, web support in highly automated maner. You really don't have to do literally anything but […]
Mobillize.us gmail, docs/sheets wordland wordpress.com Mobilize.us which is bit of amorpheus organization with some technological chops supporting diverse sets or grassroots advocacy groups. What they do that is great is they handle event sign-up and follow-up end-to-end with SMS, email, web support in highly automated maner. You really don't have to do literally anything but […]
Mobillize.us gmail, docs/sheets wordland wordpress.com Mobilize.us which is bit of amorpheus organization with some technological chops supporting diverse sets or grassroots advocacy groups. What they do that is great is they handle event sign-up and follow-up end-to-end with SMS, email, web support in highly automated maner. You really don't have to do literally anything but […]
Mobillize.us gmail, docs/sheets wordland wordpress.com Mobilize.us which is but of amorpheus organization with some technological chops supporting diverse sets or grassroots advocacy groups. What they do that is great is they handle event sign-up and follow-up end-to-end with SMS, email, web support in highly automated maner. You really don't have to do literally anything but […]
it does not bode well from a historical perspective that the last two times a State defied a Federal directive one ended with troops in streets and the other at Fort Sumter. (with the score Feds 2 States 0)
it does not bode well from a historical perspective that the last two times a State defied a Federal directive one ended with troops in streets and the other at Fort Sumter.
it does not bode well from a historical perspective that the last two times a State defied a Federal directed one ended with troops in streets and the other was at Fort Sumter.
it does not bode well from a historical perspective that the last two times a State defied a Federal directed one ended with troops in streets and the other was at Fort Sumter.
U.S. News Judge says Trump illegally deployed National Guard to help with LA protests, must return control By OLGA R. RODRIGUEZ Updated 9:13 PM EDT, June 12, 2025 SAN FRANCISCO (AP) — A federal judge issued a temporary restraining order Thursday directing President Donald Trump to return control of the National Guard to California. The […]
My longtime friend and colleague Jay Rosen is retiring as a professor at NYU. Jay, thanks for all your contributions to understanding news and new technology. Looking forward to seeing what you come up with in the years to come! :-)
Today's Washington Post headline . . . on other news, WordLand has been a godsend to me for any number of reasons. Two most important is robustness and ease of use. By robustness I mean whole range from transportability to failsafe, backup, uptime which is all extremely good and seem baked into the software. Dave's […]
I almost have to write a post to my MrBrian blog to get things going for me to post to my other sites. The resistance is exploding ahead of Trump's military parade for his birthday and people are pissed. Our signups for our little NOKINGS event in rural Virginia incease almost 50% in past 48 […]
Wishing you joy, hope, and happiness today. Praying you have the strength you need to overcome your challenges and time for even a moment of peace. God bless.
I find it incredibly disturbing that republican senators have no problem deploying troops into the street against fellow citizens. To think the small government, law and order party finds no problem with the central government taking over policing in a major US city because a couple hundred people got together and burned some waymos is […]
I've seen a marked jump in registrations for our local No Kings Protest. We have exceeded our 5/1 MayDayStrong registrations with four days to go. I really enjoy using WordLand. I used NotePad a lot for jotting down thoughts and links to things I want to remember. But more and more WordLand has taken over […]
My definition of Twitter in 2016: "Real-time Internet-scale notification with an easy to understand user interface." This was a powerful way of looking at it that was never built out. I think Bluesky should do this. The people who want Bluesky to prevail should want this too.
I didn’t have the downtime to write anything, although I saved so many posts to come back to. I miss the routine of work; there was built in breaks which I could use to write as a way of relaxing my mind between classes. But live goes on. The munchkin is an ongoing delight, of course. Today, we discovered a super cool store. It allowed him to play paleontologist and “dig” for fossils. Then we stopped off at a reptile shop owned by the same gentleman as the first.
We ended our time with teatime with my parents, and I was able to make it to Yoga class in time. I have to finish making my travel preparations in the next two days. I will try to write more tomorrow. If I don’t, it will be good training for weaning myself away from WP. When I go on my European Vacation, my ability to write will completely depend on my Wi-Fi situation.
Anyway, here are some pictures from the day. God Bless and write soon.
2016: The Getting-Shit-Done Party. “I couldn't wait not to just be a contributor and supporter but to being part of the political system on a daily basis.” It never happened. That my friends is the path back to sanity.
As the bromance dies Trump diverts public attention by deploying California National Guard to Los Angeles to combat hundreds of protesters that could be handle by local law enforcement. Images of army tanks on rail cars on their way to our nation's capital will be soon be replace with pictures of army tanks in our […]
Twitter-as-a-service. I wish AWS had done this ten years ago. We could’ve avoided a lot of misery. It could still happen. Might be a business model for the Bluesky folk. An honorable one imho.
The Atlantic, For Trump, This Is a Dress Rehearsal (paywall) Ordering the National Guard to deploy in Los Angeles is a warning of what to expect when his hold on power is threatened. By David Frum, June 8, 2025 10:00 am Yesterday, President Donald Trump ordered the National Guard to quell disorderly protests against immigration-enforcement personnel in […]
Apparently the security system at the White House depends on all internet traffic going through their routers. The DOGE dudes got around that by installing Starlink, and they move stuff in and out without being detected.
"It's really hard to fathom that the guy making my pizza for 25 years is a gangster and a terrorist, and the person who shows up in an unmarked car wearing a mask and body armor comes to take him away is somehow the good guy," said Simon.
Federal immigration officials detained an 11th-grade New York City student while he was at an asylum hearing earlier this week, the city’s schools chancellor said Friday.
Billionaire Class Growth (Wealth Accumulation) Total number of billionaires in the U.S. has grown over the past two decades, but very slowly in absolute numbers (from ~400 in the early 2000s to ~750–800 in 2024). However, their collective wealth has exploded: During the COVID pandemic (2020–2023), U.S. billionaires gained over $2 trillion in combined wealth. […]
TEST POST Please feel free to forward, share and subcribe. This is the anniversary of D-Day, the seaborne invasion of continental Europe that signaled the beginning of the end for Nazi Germany and its murderous pursuit of global conquest. On this day against the backdrop of the two most powerful men in the world's hissy […]
TEST POST Please feel free to forward, share and subcribe. This is the anniversary of D-Day, the seaborne invasion of continental Europe that signaled the beginning of the end for Nazi Germany and its murderous pursuit of global conquest. On this day against the backdrop of the two most powerful men in the world's hissy […]
TEST POST Please feel free to forward, share and subcribe. This is the anniversary of D-Day, the seaborne invasion of continental Europe that signaled the beginning of the end for Nazi Germany and its murderous pursuit of global conquest. On this day against the backdrop of the two most powerful men in the world's hissy […]
TEST POST Please feel free to forward, share and subcribe. This is the anniversary of D-Day, the seaborne invasion of continental Europe that signaled the beginning of the end for Nazi Germany and its murderous pursuit of global conquest. On this day against the backdrop of the two most powerful men in the world's hissy […]
I was an active software developer when the web came online in the early 90s. I knew what closed systems were like, and open systems. The web was open, and a miracle because of its radical simplicity.
God works in mysterious ways. We’ve heard this a million times, but perhaps it’s never more true than when He chooses the least likely person to do His greatest work. Moses, David, Esther, and without question, last and most, Mary.
I’ve been listening to a podcast called Rosary in a Year. In conjunction with the Bible in a Year, it’s part of my morning meditation. A Franciscan friar, Mark Mary, guides us through a deeper way of praying and appreciating the mysteries of the rosary. I think I’ve blogged about the Rosary before, but for those who don’t know what it is, it’s a series of repeated prayers designed to facilitate a deeper understanding of and mediation on events in the life of Christ. They are divided into four categories: Joyful, Sorrowful, Luminous, and Glorious.
The first Joyful mystery is the Annunciation, the appearance of the angel to Mary and the invitation to her to become the mother of God. In so many classical paintings, Mary looks mature, serene, and calm about this event. The angel bows to Mary, and Mary bows back, the reality and daunting nature of the Annunciation feels overlooked, even lost.
In this painting by Henry Ossawa Tanner, a more important reality is revealed. Mary’s littleness and trepidation is reflected in her uncertain gaze, in her hunched, somewhat fearful stance. I think it’s important to remember, Mary, according to tradition, was a young girl. We’re talking 14-16 years old! She’s newly engaged, and now an angel has come to her to tell her that God has chosen her to be the mother of the Messiah. The Bible tells us the angel has to assure Mary to “be not afraid.” That seems to clearly imply that reassurance was necessary. When the Angel tells Mary of God’s plan, she asks, “How can this be?” There is confusion, doubt, uncertainty. How could there not be? When the angel explains how this will come to be, the explanation also includes the story of her cousin Elizabeth who, though thought barren, is also pregnant, “For nothing shall be impossible with God.” It is after this that Mary speaks her fiat, “I am the servant of the Lord, be it done unto me according to your word.” Fiat is Latin for “let it be done.”
Mary is young, fearful girl being asked to trust in the impossible. Mary is a maid from Nazereth, a nobody, unimpressive, ordinary, a child. Yet through her words, her choice, her trust, the world was changed.
We may be asked to do the impossible. We may be called to bear witness to truths to which we may ask, “How can this be?” We may be fearful, uncertain, confused. May we also remember the truth of the Angel’s words, “For nothing is impossible with God, ” and echo Mary’s fiat, “Be it done unto me according to your word.”
My keynote for FediForum. It's make-believe, I'm only giving a keynote on my blog. These are good ideas, if the goal is to make an "open social web" which is still imho an overhyped dream, when we need it to be reality. This is how we get there, quickly.
The lovely and talented Phoebe is still not getting the views she should, so I wanted to pass her powerful words on. Please visit her and any shout outs or compliments should go to her
The lovely and talented Phoebe is still not getting the views she should, so I wanted to pass her powerful words on. Please visit her and any shout outs or compliments should go to her
to say it is a tax cut misses the whole story. It is not a tax cut for the poor far from it. It is devastating and cruel and repudiation of 50 years of what repubulicans have said about protecting social security. Let me clear It is a tax cut. For the rich. Include and […]
Can't believe it's been more than month since May Day Strong demonstrations and we are now under two weeks to No Kings Day which all organizers are worried about will we get even more people to come out let their voices be heard? I think the movement is bit burnt. That's why hear people speak […]
Deja vu!! But that’s ok. As my grandson is entering the age of really enjoying reading, I like reflecting on my favorite books from when I was young. I was obsessed with reading, so I’m just going to list a few. I actually did this once in a prompt tweak which you can see here So I’m just going to try and list ones I didn’t the first time around. Keep in mind these are still only a sampling of my faves
Gene Stratton Porter’s Freckles and Girl of the Limberlost.
The imagery and powerful characters in these two books are incredible. Even as an adult, I can read these time and again. You see overcoming, healing, love, and goodness, without feeling like you’re being preached to. They’re just gorgeous.
2. The Book of Three and The Dark is Rising Series
My intro to modern Fantasy series. They include an awesome cast of characters, mythology, heroism and humor. Harry Potter eat your heart out.
3. Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden and The Little Princess
Maybe there’s a trend to my childhood preferences :). Both of these stories are young girls who have to overcome their circumstances and in the process make the world around better. Yes, there’s a bit of deus ex machina involved, but when you’re a kid, that’s just part of the magic.
4. Last but not least, for this round anyway… I would be remiss as an 80’s child not to give a nod to the inestimable Roald Dahl. From The BFG to Charlie Bucket, to James, to Danny, Champion of the World, and even the Twits, Roald Dahl made amazing worlds of imagination, humor, satire, and vermicious knids, and even some sneaky life lessons. If you have not read at least two of Dahl’s books, go back and read them…as quickly as possible.
Do you remember some of your favorite books from childhood?
Good morning, beautiful people, or afternoon or evening, depending on where you are. Today may be or may not have been the best day of your life. Today may or may not have been a dumpster fire that you struggle to make it through. My wish and prayer is that whatever kind of day it is you know how valuable you are, you know that you are amazing and you are loved, and you know that one day, even if it’s not tomorrow, even if it’s not soon, good things will come. And with all my heart, I send prayers and positive vibes to whoever needs them. Because God knows I know I’ve had so many kinds of days
“Speak” is a strong word. I can make myself generally understood and carry on a basic conversation in Spanish and French. Every day I work on trying to get better at them, and add a little Italian in the mix
2. As a child, what did you find easier, climbing a rope or climbing a tree?
I was pretty good at climbing trees, but preferred mountains
3. Did you prefer maths or science at school?
I wasn’t overly good at either, but I found science fascinating.
4. How would you describe your sense of humour?
My sense of Humour is all over the place. The only kinds I don’t like are the types that are centered around being offensive (sexist, homophobic, racist, etc…) truly political, or violent (with the possible exception of Loony Toons)
I don’t have a vote in the primary for NYC mayor, but if I did I’d vote against the NYT deciding who can represent voters. If they want to govern, run for office. It’s not appropriate for them to campaign for a result, to circumvent due process or usurp the power of the people.
Meta claims its AI chatbot just crossed a billion monthly active users (MAUs), while Google’s Gemini recently hit 400 million MAUs. They’re both trying to edge out ChatGPT, which now has roughly 600 million MAUs and has dominated the consumer space since it launched in 2022.
Scripting News: Suggestion to WordPress devs. I make the case for doing generally what we did in the Baseline theme with the og:image element, using Doc Searls' blog as an example.
Which of your past jobs was either the absolute worst, or one you’d happily do again?
Good morning, beautiful people! I’m not going to give a laundry list of all of the jobs I’ve had. By the time you’ve hit almost 50 I think most of us have had our fair shares of the good. the bad, and the ugly when it comes to our jobs. But since I hate to lose my prompt streak, I just wanna touch on two types of jobs I’ve had: two jobs that I would never do again, and two that if money were not an issue would be kind of fun to revisit.
Category one: the worst jobs I’ve ever had.
The absolute worst job I ever had was telemarketing. It’s the only job I ever walked out on. But selling National Geographic subscriptions to retired people was really tough. The monotony was bad enough. You are contacting lonely people who are excited to hear a friendly voice. You know you have to interrupt their excited monologue about their grandkids. Then, you must ask them if they want to pay way too much money for things they don’t need. This was just not fun. The worst was when you would call people. The person whose name was on the subscription was someone who had already passed away. They could no longer take advantage of the product. My manager literally told me in those cases to ask the caller if they wanted to continue the subscription. This was suggested to honor their memory. Heck no. I stood up and told my manager that I couldn’t do it anymore. Without missing a beat, they asked me if I would like to think about it and come back tomorrow. I didn’t.
The second type of job I would never do it again was retail. I worked at a Claire’s jewelry store. I’m not a good person to ask to upsell a product. If you come in for earrings, I’m going to assume you want earrings, not also ask you if you want a necklace and bracelet to go with them. Combined with having to constantly keep an eye out for shoplifters, it was not the right career path for me.
Category two: entry-level ease
I really liked the jobs that involved coffee and food. My two favorite jobs in this area were working the early shift at a bakery and working at a small coffee shop in an outlet mall. You knew you were making people happy, you got to get to know the regulars you around delicious smells all day and if you’re really lucky you get to take food home at the end. Low pressure high reward and occasionally I had a bagels for community theater tickets hook up.
Which of your past jobs was either the absolute worst, or one you’d happily do again?
Good morning, beautiful people! I’m not going to give a laundry list of all of the jobs I’ve had. By the time you’ve hit almost 50 I think most of us have had our fair shares of the good. the bad, and the ugly when it comes to our jobs. But since I hate to lose my prompt streak, I just wanna touch on two types of jobs I’ve had: two jobs that I would never do again, and two that if money were not an issue would be kind of fun to revisit.
Category one: the worst jobs I’ve ever had.
The absolute worst job I ever had was telemarketing. It’s the only job I ever walked out on. But selling National Geographic subscriptions to retired people was really tough. The monotony was bad enough, but the fact that you are contacting lonely people who are excited to hear a friendly voice, and knowing you are expected to interrupt their excited monologue about their grandkids so you can ask them if they want to pay way too much money for things they don’t need was just not fun. The worst was when you would call people and the person whose name was on the subscription was someone who was no longer alive to take advantage of the product. My manager literally told me under such circumstances that I should ask the caller if they would like to continue the subscription to honor their memory. Heck no. I stood up and told my manager that I couldn’t do it anymore. Without missing a beat, they asked me if I would like to think about it and come back tomorrow. I didn’t.
The second type of job I would never do it again was retail. I worked at a Claire’s jewelry store. I’m not a good person to ask to upsell a product. If you come in for earrings, I’m going to assume you want earrings, not also ask you if you want a necklace and bracelet to go with them. Combined with having to constantly keep an eye out for shoplifters, it was not the right career path for me.
Category two: entry-level ease
I really liked the jobs that involved coffee and food. My two favorite jobs in this area were working the early shift at a bakery and working at a small coffee shop in an outlet mall. You knew you were making people happy, you got to get to know the regulars you around delicious smells all day and if you’re really lucky you get to take food home at the end. Low pressure high reward and occasionally I had a bagels for community theater tickets hook up.
If animals could talk, which species would be the nicest?
Did you keep a journal or diary when you were young? If so, do you still have it?
I think green best describes my personality, but more of a deep foresty or dark emerald green than a bright green.
I think dogs, specifically Labs and Retrievers would be the nicest species. but that doesn’t mean they’d be the most interesting.
I kept a diary when I was REALLY young, but in my teen years I mostly wrote in my poetry journals. I still have 3 or 4 of those which I kept so my daughters would have proof I understood their angst
The New Yorker, So you want to be a dissident It depressing to read about how everyone feels targeted. That students today thinking about law school have to scrub their social media. It's every where and taken for granted. I am sorry if trump wants to come for my TikTok account cause I post political spiels […]
b: to do or perform often, customarily, or habitually
c: to be professionally engaged in
2 :to perform or work at repeatedly so as to become proficient
: to train by repeated exercises
Based on these definitions, I don’t know if I would ever want to or could practice religion. Is religion a sport? Is it an instrument? Is there a point at which I am proficient at religion? Am I proficient at a specific religion? Or am I just good at religion in general, like one can be good at playing piano or drawing. A religion has its own set of exercises and training schedules, so how can I ever become a habitual and well-trained religion practicer?
Then, again when I go to yoga, they call it a practice rather than a class. Ironically, my instructors always told me that in yoga, the idea of it being a practice means it is an ongoing process. You never become completely proficient. It is the idea of becoming more in tune with yourself and by association connected to those around you.
I think when it comes to my face, I practice in this sense. There are many beliefs out there, many religions that can be practiced. Many exercises and rituals that people go through to show their dedication and proficiency. I was blessed to be raised in a context where faith connected you to the divine. The specific practices within my religion were designed as an extension of that. We go to mass. We say specific prayers. We believe in the truth of the sacred texts. They give us a context for a better understanding. They help us grasp the divine and the beautiful world that was created. The tenets of a belief are designed to give structure to our lives. They remind us how to live in relationship to others. When these beliefs detract from bringing all people closer, and to the love present in the world, the religion, in my opinion, is horribly flawed.
I’ve never believed that religion and politics are taboo subjects; I love talking about my faith and the reason for my beliefs. I will never impose them on you. However, I have had experiences in my life where I have clearly felt God’s presence in my life. I’ve had the Bible “speak” to me. I have felt an intense sense of knowing where I am meant to be and my place in the world where God has put me. I’ve also flailed and failed a million times, and have wondered if God has a very strange sense of Humor that I’ll have to wait until the afterlife to get the punchline.
They say practice makes perfect. In this context, obviously that could never be true. So I suppose I practice my faith through my life by letting the love of the Divine simply flow.
Mikal Bridges is my favorite Knick. He's trippy. And has not missed a single game in his NBA career or college or going back to high school. And he's had Chipotle every day for over a decade. People complain about him a lot, but man he sure is consistent!
What does Jony Ive actually do? He doesn’t seem like a software developer, yet he was somehow put in charge of software at Apple and now is going to do the software design at OpenAI? Really? Or is this just a multi billion dollar press release?
Coolify sounds like where Heroku would have gone if it were open source. I was a big fan of Heroku in the day, but when they made it really expensive to run tiny apps (which I had a lot of) I wrote my own.
Introduction to Coolify sounds like where Heroku would have gone if it were open source. I was a big fan of Heroku in the day, but when they made it really expensive to run tiny apps (which I had a lot of) I wrote my own.
I started walking south from 76th street. It was morning of first day around 10:00. It was hot. The road was wide and long with some traffic but it was hot. The road crumbled on the edge in places where it looked like it was paved on top of the whitest finest sand floating and […]
I started walking south from 76th street. It was morning of first day around 10:00. It was hot. The road was wide and long with some traffic but it was hot. The road crumbled on the edge in places where it looked like it was paved on top of the whitest finest sand floating and […]
The image above is two of my blogs written in WordlLand as they apear if my FeedLand rss reader. I love that my blog goes out to readers via email but rss is much better reading in my experiences. As you can see I 'tagged' blogs that I create with the #handsoff to pre-sort my […]
The image above is two of my blogs written in WordlLand as they apear if my FeedLand rss reader. I love that my blog goes out to readers via email but rss is much better reading in my experiences. As you can see I 'tagged' blogs that I create with the #handsoff to pre-sort my […]
I am not sure if it was the sound of the waves pounding the beach with a muffled kaaa BOOM or Pat's soft foot patter as he squeezed open the door and said "There're waves" and then quickly left to get ready. The bottom of your feet become soft in the morning if you were […]
I am not sure if it was the sound of the waves pounding the beach with a muffled kaaa BOOM or Pat's soft foot patter as he squeezed open the door and said "There're waves" and then quickly left to get ready. The bottom of your feet become soft in the morning if you were […]
I am not sure if it was the sound of the waves pounding the beach with a muffled kaaa BOOM or Pat's soft foot patter as he squeezed open the door and said "There're waves" and then quickly left to get ready. The bottom of your feet become soft in the morning if you were […]
I am not sure if it was the sound of the waves pounding the beach with a muffled kaaa BOOM or Pat's soft foot patter as he squeezed open the door and said "There're waves" and then quickly left to get ready. The bottom of your feet become soft in the morning if you were […]
I am not sure if it was the sound of the waves pounding the beach with a muffled kaaa BOOM or Pat's soft foot patter as he squeezed open the door and said "There's waves" and then quickly closed it again to go get ready. The bottoms of your feet become soft in the morning […]
I've written a lot about ChatGPT in the last few years. It's great to be able to read it all in one place. First time ever I've been able to read my writing this way. Google didn't quite get there.
There was a dark side to it too. I don't know how to shake it or even if I should go into it but let's just say all was not pretty. There was the country rubes but some of the rubes owned 30 foot fishing boats and would tip $100 bills to the bar girls […]
It was a simple morning when we set out. Early down county to the sea. Old volvo two door red, stick shift. eggbeater 4 clyliner whining over hills and around corners as we went through red lion before taking a left to the river shortcut. The susquehanna river has two famous distinctions that of being […]
It was a simple morning when we set out. Early down county to the sea. Old volvo two door red, stick shift. eggbeater 4 clyliner whining over hills and around corners as we went through red lion before taking a left to the river shortcut. The susquehanna river has two famous distinctions that of being […]
It was a simple morning when we set out. Early down county to the sea. Old volvo two door red, stick shift. eggbeater 4 clyliner whining over hills and around corners as we went through red lion before taking a left to the river shortcut. The susquehanna river has two famous distinctions that of being […]
It was a simple morning when we set out. Early down county to the sea. Old volvo two door red, stick shift. eggbeater 4 clyliner whining over hills and around corners as we went through red lion before taking a left to the river shortcut. The sescouwhanna river has two famous distinctions that of being […]
I have a new search engine for my blog, going back to 1994. Something new to explore that’s pretty old. For example this is a search for “Compuserve” which came up a lot, once.
The Dems should be very loud now, because when Medicaid turns off for millions of Americans you know the Repubs are going to blame the Dems, immigrants, Ukraine, Biden, Hillary, Obama, Comey, etc.
I finally figured out what the Dems need, the top guy has to be an entrepreneur. Needs to understand how to get people ready to believe the truth. And make the product deliver a truth the people choose.
. We couldn’t even swap clothes since none of us were wearing tees long enough to cover it, and there was a size problem too. I would’ve floated in anyone’s clothes 
. After much fiddling, my friend somehow fixed it.
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She transferred from store to store. Kuya was also hurriedly home for emergency business matters and said that he’ll come back quickly. My list was done, and I returned to the vehicle to find out Kuya had returned, but my sister was still somewhere. 
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Lady Gaga gave us “Bluffin’ with my muffin…”
and I’d say overall healthy entertainment.
. I love this girl and I love her humor and how she laughs at herself.
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My Mobile: A Window to the Digital World
. So does inspiration, if I make space for it.
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A Morning Wrapped in Serenity
A tribute to the true meaning of love and companionship
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A Home Rooted in Nature
Choosing Warmth Over Luxury
A Sanctuary for Creativity
A Kitchen Filled with Love
Balancing Modern Comforts with Tradition
A Space for Well-Being and Inner Peace
A Home Filled with Love and Laughter
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Growth Beyond Numbers
Looking Ahead
. I haven’t started it yet, but the person who gifted it said it’s a good story set against the backdrop of the Iran invasion. It does sound promising. I’ll have to wait my turn with it.
1. Money is Never Really Yours
2. Chasing Often Leads to Elusion
3. Your Efforts Build Character, Even if Others Benefit
4. Pleasing Everyone is a Recipe for Losing Yourself
5. What Will Your Children Remember?
My Final Submission
. And with Christmas, it’s always the same: the day barely starts and poof – over. A festive blink.
and it’s a Monday – with all the Monday blues marching in, I figured we deserve something more lighthearted to start the work week.
. I seriously need a few good laughs which is not from some silly video 
The Paradox of Modern Technology
Why the Smartphone Would Make Me Better Off Without It
In this Blog, I will explore this question and look at two dream destinations: Kyoto’s peaceful temples and Florence’s artistic beauty, reflecting on the concepts of beauty, peace, and “home.” 
The Ritual of Reading
Calm Mind Café — A Pause for Peace
Why Podcasts Matter
The Morning Test: Who’s in Charge?
The Digital Dilemma
Reclaiming Real Moments
My Final Submission
, and you’ve got yourself a full-body workout.
1. Wikipedia – The Ocean of Knowledge
3. BBC News – The Window to the World
4. Coursera – Learning Without Limits
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The Emotional Burden
A Senior’s Reflection
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Building Bridges & Capturing Life
Gratitude & The Road Ahead
More Movement
