Every day someone lives in pain. Sometimes it is physical torment, and sometimes it`s mental agony.
Our blog tries to cover varied topics, but the underlying theme is that we want to inspire and give people hope. One of our goals is to do our part to make the world a better place, and maybe somebody else will want to do the same? We see people around us everywhere, and we don`t always know their stories.
Today was a good day for the blog. Some weeks ago, I ordered business cards, small post-cards and a cup, and today it finally arrived. I was very happy with the result, especially the business-cards that look gorgeous. What do you think? If readers of this blog would like to help me with distributing them, feel free to send me some contact information, so I can mail some business-cards you can give to people you know, or even complete strangers (thereby also getting extra stars in the «kindness project».
If you don`t want to do that, it`s perfectly fine.
I hope our readers like what we`ve produced so far. If not, we really love concrete feedback on how we can make the blog even better. We can only deliver high-quality content if readers tell us what could be better.
I want to thank all the readers, contributors and people who`ve been involved so far. Without you I would be nothing.
A group of black-clad people walk in a line. Their hands raised upwards, holding a heavy plate of steel in their hands. Each step is tiresome, but they go forward. One step in the right direction, is one away from carrying anything more. One step means the burden is less and that the solution comes nearer. They don`t have to carry it forever, but right now, they do. No one force them; They have liftet each steel plate on their own accord, since they`ve seen that it would be too hard for one person alone.
I do truly love people. It`s important to remember, that each times our hearts breaks, there will be many who want to put Band-Aids on it.
I have invited some of my lovely friends over tonight, just to cook dinner, watch some funny movie (any tips?), talk like girls do, and make something beautiful and scrapbook-alike. We need beauty, but most importantly, we need to believe in beauty, even when darkness falls upon us.
I want to dedicate this post to a girl who means the world to me. I was so lucky that I got the chance to meet her in June, and I cannot underline how much that meant to me. She lives in Baltimore, but our friendship is close no matter how many oceans separates us. She works as a pianist, and plays a lot of concert in addition to teaching. Her whole family are hard-working musicians, so they have travelled together many times to create moments of magical music.
Some years ago, I just knew her from description, and I didn`t know more than to make an unclear picture. Shrouded in mystery, and undiscovered by me. At that time, I wasn`t too eager to study the picture in detail.
Today I see the picture clearly, and have realized that she truly is an uncommon piece of art. She is like those paintings you put in the central rooms, so that everyone can admire the beauty.
Her beauty is not just physical, but also mental. Mixing an unbelievable kindness together with a brilliant mind, has lead to a rare kind of woman. She is that woman one feel privileged to have encountered, and that woman one can never forget.
I have now known Elizabeth for four months, but I feel like we share a lifetime together. I have been lucky, and have really got to know her, and I have had the chance to let her soft words soften my pain. I want to jump up and down in the air when she finishes a new project, and want to put myself in the middle if someone should try to hurt her. She is so full of compassion that mother Teresa would have been envious, and tops that off with talents, intelligence and a wonderful way of sharing her thoughts.
She takes time, when there is none. In a period this summer, she had literally not ONE evening that she could use with friends or herself. She has still made time for yoga, thinking about her life, in addition to produce music, teaching her students, arranging concerts, travelling to another countries and helping her family. And still, she often feels she should have done more.
She described the hectic period herself:
It is something of an event childbirth. The pre-birth pains are awful (though tinged with some excitement), there are moments of fear, the experience is overwhelming, but it brings something really joyous into the world.
Thank you for giving me so much hope and happiness when I needed it most. By just listening without pointing fingers and making me feel bad, you made me realize, I still deserve to be on this earth. You are a natural «helper» who automatically knows how to respond, and in addition you have a gift that you luckily share with the world every day. Its heart-warming to see, how your eyes sparkle when you talk about experiences, and I am very proud of everything you have accomplished these lasts months.
You have so many good sides, but you don`t see them in the dark. Don`t you know you are a girl who cries because others have suffered? Remember when you heard this song and told me about the suffering people had endured in the war? You see others like no-one else, but are not conscious enough when it comes to your own beauty. You strive for perfection at work and in life, but don`t see that you were perfect from the beginning.
You love too teach, and feel pride every time your students move forward on the road you have made for them.
Here is a little story, if people still don`t see what I mean: She once played the piano for a men dying of ca
ncer (lymphoma), He wanted to hear classical music for the last time, and she said yes to
play for him. While she played, her tears streamed since she could see how much it meant to him. She made it special.
Elizabeth, you are one of those stars that shines with a strange intensity. Your energy spreads its warm wings over those around you.
I care for her very much and hope you will shine like you never have before. You have so many wonderful years ahead of you, and I will be there if clouds try to hide your light.
The last post was actually post number 200. I AM proud of myself. From writing almost nothing, I have the last year written and written, and there is still so much to say, so many stories to tell, so many other blogs to share (there is a lot of interesting stories out there) and thoughts that have to come out. I hope you have enjoyed the journey so far. Any wishes on themes I might write about?
I am reblogging one of my fav. blogs:
Every day someone lives in pain. Sometimes it is physical torment, and sometimes it`s mental agony. A memory can harm as well as knives and blows. I want to present a blog from Ashana. She grew up with no safety net, and it is almost impossible to imagine how that must have been. But we have to. We can`t close our eyes. Stories like her, make me want to fight for a better world.
Ashana, thank you so much for sharing your story. Sending you warm thoughts.
August 6th, a lone gunman toting two semi-automatic weapons killed seven people and wounded a number of others at a crowded Sikh temple in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. A few weeks before, a man opened fire in a theater in Colorado, killing 12 and wounded 58 others. The first instance is classified as a hate crime. The second appears to be entirely random—murder for the sake of it.
These are difficult and frightening times we live in. Much of the Middle East has become destabilized, with civil war raging in Syria and smoldering in Egypt. Terrorist attacks and sectarian violence have become so commonplace in Afghanistan and Iraq it no longer seems to be news. Bombs planted in war-torn Chechnya, where violence has erupted sporadically since the start of the First Chechen War in 1994, reportedly killed four individuals on the same day as the gurudwara shooting. Meanwhile, the Indian Mujahideen struck in Pune on August 1st, when serial explosions rocked Jangli Maharaj Road. The world has become a terrifying place.
Or has it? Is this really anything new?
The aftermath of the 2010 German Bakery bombing in Pune.
What about the 500,000-100,000 murdered in Rwanda in 1994? The 200,000 killed in Bosnia’s “ethnic cleansing” between 1992 and 1995? The 2 million executed, starved, or worked to death in Cambodia starting in 1975? The .5 million hacked to death or burned alive during Partition? Or, for heaven’s sake, the 11 million who died during the Holocaust under Nazi rule? And going back to perhaps one of the first genocides of the 20th century, the mass killings of 1.5 million Armenians by the Turkish beginning in 1915? What about them?
Targets change, weapons improve, but ordinary people are now and always have been quite capable of torture and mass murder. Evil, it seems, is part of the human heart.
In saying this, I am not arguing that we are all just sinners, hopelessly seduced by that devil. Evil, at least in my mind, is a complicated matter. It is worth making an effort to understand These are my questions:
Why do some people carry out evil acts?
Why do some engage in more extreme acts of evil than others?
Why do these events occur more at some times than others?
How is it that some people—and not others—take a stand against evil, often at great personal risk to themselves?
This Travelodge in Oceanside was shut down in 2011 because of its use in sex trafficking by gang members.
Since I was about 13 years old, I have been deeply and abidingly interested in these questions. While an adolescent Stephen Hawking may have started searching for a unified theory of physics at that age, I started looking for a unified theory of evil. We need to understand the worlds we live in, and mine was for many years almost unrelentingly evil.
It might help to tell a little of my story. My dad molested me from the time I can remember. When I was two, he raped me with a pair of scissors. Like many sociopaths, he killed animals from time to time—usually in front of me—and at least once insisted I kill as well. His aim was not only to frighten, but to corrupt.
Before I was school-aged, my mother assaulted me multiple times—a few times by strangling, once with a pair of kitchen knives, once with a kitchen chair. I have incoherent memories of being dunked head-first in water—the tub or the toilet. I think she did that. But I don’t know.
To discipline me, one or both of them shut me up in a freezer until I lost consciousness. Alternatively, they chained me blindfolded to a wall in the garage, at times without any clothes on. In the garage, I was fed spoiled food, crawling with bugs, or no food at all and refused access to a toilet.
At the same time, my father was also my pimp. For 11 years, I serviced the perverted desires of pedophiles, mainly in a variety of cheap hotels, but also at home or in the homes of his friends. In addition, I performed sporadically in child pornography—both still and filmed.
I grew up in hell and the devil lived there.
Except these were people. People did these things, and in some cases, a lot of people. Unlike my mother, who acted impulsively and alone, my father was intelligent, organized, and apparently well-connected. For the most part, he abused me in the context of organizations that were systematically abusing other children and employed a variety of people—as actors and film crew, hotel managers, maintenance and janitorial workers, and human traffickers.
This was not simply the product of a single, unbalanced mind going over the edge, nor was it the result of a few people getting greedy and slipping into amoral behavior. There were too many of them—both consumers and producers—for these to be adequately understood as isolated incidents or as the work of the 1% of the population who simply lack conscience. Some of this is about ordinary people committing unbelievably, horrifyingly evil acts..
This blog is not so much the place where I am telling my story, as the place where I work to understand those stories. And also where I try to heal the scars.