Today feels a long way from any goal I may aspire to. It started off really well. Had a truly great time with one of wonderful nieces who is moving. I got a lovely text from a dear friend. I went to the physiologist for a workout and was stoked to report I’d done a workout the day before. I got great feedback for my efforts and was feeling pumped.
Then on the way back home a negative thought weighed down into my mind, then another, and other, quickly clouding out the sun. The same boring, fearsome thoughts: you stuffed up your own life you have no idea what you are doing, how can you provide a good example for Gracie?, she is better off without you. The pit was staring at me, quite unexpectedly.
But then a flash of realisation dawned on me. I’d missed three morning doses recently…
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I had an interesting discussion with couple of blogger, today I learned couple of things:
- Cold Crops (Never heard about it)
- Cilantro is a vegetable, which I have never heard in my life.
- Quixotic – A new word, meaning Idealistic without regard to practicality.
- Holus Bolus – A new word, All at once, Altogether.
This poem is written by my friend Usha Vikas. Currently Usha is settled in Chile with her spouse and a lovely little girl.
Usha and my-self became friends around 4 years ago as were residing in the same society. Being a mommy, wife, daughter, she loves to pursue her passion of classical dancing, painting and few more activities. And in addition I have seen her writing skills too and I so wish she does start writing too. Wishing you luck and good health always. And yea I miss you.
The poem is self-explanatory. Please do read and enjoy.
“Dedicated to all the lifelines who brought me back to life..My daughter, father, Vikas Iyer, Gowri Iyer, Janani K Parthasarathy, Kannan Iyer. Maithili Raja Balasubramanian Raja Parthasarathy Veeravalli Deepti Praveen Pradeep Raja. The list continues. I love you all from the bottom of my heart.
To my mother in heaven,
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Several years back, a series of books exploded onto the marketplace.They were known as “Chicken Soup for the Soul”. I managed to grab a few books and they did make a good read. I came across one such book in which the authors Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen compiled collection after collection of short stories that contained uplifting messages of hope and inspiration.
One story in volume two in particular really touched my heart. It is a moving piece, contributed by Dan Clark, which speaks volumes about genuinely practicing love. A friend of mine recently shared this story with me and that I thought I should definitely post it here today.
From: A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul
Once when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets…
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The most quixotic days are happening at my end. Where I don’t know the start and end of the things. I start with one thing, in the middle something else comes up, I have to drop it and restart than something else comes up.
In times like such where a lot of chaos is seen at ones end, the best is to make the things to do, which is urgent and very important, and take it like this.
Haven’t able to write about my objectives lately, for that I am sorry, so catching up myself. My today, objectives of the day are:
- Finish and submit the Board Report.
- Finish the posting for interfund.
- Try to run the interface before I leave office.
- Upload the DIY project post. 😎
- Break my fasting for today.
- Play with my daughter and enjoy time
- Watch the test match between Pakistan vs West…
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Beat around it, while it burns.
It may hide a path of turns.
This way, that way, round we go!
Where it ends, we shall not know.
Singing eagles hide in the sticks.
Two are caught by hands & tricks.
They sing no more, their tune was lame.
To war, we went, to their song of blame…
Relax a while, perhaps down under?
The bushes grow & rest asunder.
Jamaican folk say bushes have ears…
Sicilians use them to hide their fears.
Shakespeare noted that they made good friends…
To speak of war and dividends.
The proverbial bush has lived, was spurned.
Secretly? It never burned.
© The Secret Poetess, May 2017
Acceptance of art, assertiveness in beauty…even betrayal leads to blame near this blazing hearth.
How can a blind brat be brave, living in this broken bubble like a greenhouse carrot?
Chains don’t change, like a child at Christmas…clever compassion!
Always coping & carrying.
Cursed was the darkness, dawn was gone for days. Delusions & despair wrapped in destiny or dream.
Driven to drowning in faith & fantasy…with a father full of fear, searing fears in flames.
Flying free in a friendship of the future…glass houses of grandeur, hiding this happy heart.
A history of hope with a hopeless romantic.
The in-between injustice belies the joy of a ‘kalopsia’.
Have you not realized the lie in this life? Listen: Love is nature and night.
Pain is a paradox. Parents are the past. Patience is peace.
People tend towards perseverance. We lean to prophecy and questions.
Like a rebel rising over rubbish…
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