All in God Humour!

Wondering why God has no little or time to answer prayers? Because he’s just too busy gathering followers, lately on social media. Here are our picks for the top ten Tweets of God.

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Emmy Award winning writer David Javerbaum is author of the popular book turned Broadway play, An Act of God. Last we checked he has 5.16 M followers who swear by Him and counting…

Saying the Word: The One that Must Not be Named

Last evening, I went through a lot of turmoil within- unexplained and without any tangible reasons; at least at that moment. I was having a conversation with my mom on a call and at one point of time during the conversation, the restless in me increased to an extent that I felt breathless.

I shared what I felt with my mother.. and she suddenly started to discuss all the instances of rape that has happened with children. She specifically spoke about a case of a 4 year old being raped by her teacher. The thing to note here is that my mom has never spoken to me on this topic… and well it came as a surprise. And as she spoke, I felt a terrible rage erupt within me! I wanted to lash out at her for sharing this at the moment when I was already feeling unsettled.

I quickly ended the conversation. As I disconnected the call, I felt this sudden rush of emotions and I wanted to howl and cry.

The earth is crying, shaking in despair,
She is hurting, she is angry at her children,her heir.
She wants to crash and burn, turn everything bare..
She is trembling with anger, screaming in pain,
As we are losing sight of all that’s humane.

Raping women and children, what is this that man is doing?
Killing and plundering, lying and corruption; it’s all going to be our undoing.

She is angry, I can feel it in me today
She is terribly sad, and wants to lash out in her way.

Mankind, take notice, do not let her suffer
The woman and child you rape are your own mother and daughter.

For we all come from the Source
We are but its fragment,
So love a little more, be a little more compassionate,
This is just my two cents…

earth cryI wrote this on facebook and soon saw a comment on my post saying an earthquake had been felt a short while ago. Now… I began to understand the rush of all the unexplained turbulence within…. But I still felt agitated. And once again, as it happens often with me, there was synchronicity. This time one of my mentors, commented on that post saying how she went through the same emotions and turbulence just a day ago. I knew I had to talk to her …and I am so glad I did, for I figured out what it is that the Universe wants me to talk about and educate people of if possible.

It’s A Hush Hush word but I’ll say it out loud

SEX!

There i said it..The world didn’t end.

We as a nation and humans have turned the word and the act into a ‘dirty’ word. Sex is something we do only behind closed doors, never to speak of it….

Like ‘Voldemort’!

There, I named ‘YouKnowWho’ too!And no I ain’t Avada Kedavara yet!

Jokes apart, sex is a very natural act, a beautiful one, between people who agree to it… Two consenting adults!

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What we (our parents and grandparents and so forth) have done is created shame surrounding the word and act itself.. a forbidden pleasure.. an act that only man has control over and only man is supposed to enjoy.

Now that more and more women are becoming empowered, standing up for themselves in every aspect, the men are not the dominant species anymore. Now men with twisted mind, who for so many reasons are beyond reproach, still try to dominate. If they cannot dominate their wives and mothers, or a grown up woman in general, who do you think they can? The children.. That and so much more lies beneath this cruel act of raping a child.

But how can we help alleviate the issue?

Let us not allow sex to be a dirty word anymore. Let us first teach our boy child to respect women and girls and see them as their equals. Let us teach our girls the same too. Let’s make our boys understand and even appreciate women as powerful beings. Let us show them that the new normal is their mother and sisters being empowered and having a choice to do what they want – roam the world if they want to or be a stay at home mom whose world is her kitchen and her family, if chooses that for herself… Both are to be respected. Remind our children of the ancient wisdom women possess. Normalise the days of bleeding that all women go through.

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There is so much more I could write, and I will for sure. But for now let us take a small step .. let us raise sons and daughters who respect each other and see each other as beautiful human beings and not just a way to establish their dominance as a superior gender. Both men and women are equal. Without Yin, there’s no Yang.

dilpreet

Dilpreet is a Holistic Healer, Tarot and Angel expert who started exploring spirituality and various modalities at a young age and is consumed with a desire to help people improve their life. She believes in practicing all that she learns before she preaches it to others. That brings in an authenticity that inspires others and leaves a positive impact on them. More about her on http://www.lovinglightoftheangels.com

 

Historic Victory to Muslim Women’s Rights In India

The efforts and courage of a few strong women has brought about a ban on the ages old gender-biased practice of triple-talaq in India which allowed Muslim men to instantly and unilaterally divorce their wives by just repeating the word ‘talaq’ three times. The ruling was made after five women petitioned the court. Read the full BBC story HERE

‘Luck Actually?’ by Ankesh Kothari

Is Luck for Real? Or is it only ‘Hard Work’ that matters?

Ankesh Kothari of Zen Strategies has these two stories to add a lucky spin to your day.

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1. The Lucky Dog Statue

Derren Brown the famous illusionist conducted an experiment once. He partnered with Dawn Porter – a journalist to go to Todmorden in Yorkshire, UK – for this experiment.

There was a small nondescript dog statue in a park in Todmorden. Brown enlisted the help of Dawn Porter to spread rumours that the dog statue was lucky. Todmorden is a gossipy town with just about 15,000 residents. So when Porter started asking a lot of people if they’ve heard about the lucky dog, news started spreading a bit.

And then, the local radio station picked the story and soon everyone in the town had a story about how they had found luck after patting the lucky dog statue. Everything from people finding their dream jobs, to getting new business opportunities, to getting well from a disease.

After 3 months of this, Derren Brown held a town hall meeting in Todmorden and revealed how the story of the lucky dog had started.

Did an ordinary dog statue make people feel luckier just because they believed in it?

Derren Brown had followed a few people who had patted the dog statue. And so, on closer inspection, he finds something extraordinary.

People who had patted the lucky dog statue started taking more risks. Started pushing themselves. Started putting in more effort and sticking with tasks longer. They started paying more attention to random cues from the environment. And that’s how they became luckier.

(The dog statue has indeed been lucky for the town because now it’s become a tourist attraction and brings more tourists in every year!)

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2. A Simple Newspaper Experiment

Richard Wiseman is the head of psychology at the University of Hertfordshire in UK. He once conducts an experiment. He runs an ad in newspapers looking out for people who feel they are exceptionally lucky or exceptionally unlucky. 400 people answer that ad.

To all these people, Wiseman gives a task: to count the number of photos there are in a particular newspaper.

But here is the twist: on the 3rd page of the newspaper, Wiseman had put up a huge text ad next to a photo. The ad said: “Stop counting. There are 43 photographs in this newspaper.”

People who claimed they were lucky would usually spot this ad. Unlucky people would miss it.

Action Summary:

  • Lucky totems are important. Believing in luck is important. Because being open to luck changes your psyche. You become more open to the cues of the environment. You take more chances and risks.
  • The funny thing is luck works like ‘the placebo effect’. It works even when you know about it.
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  • One email per week.
  • With one or two stories.
  • And an action summary.
  • That will help you live a happy meaningful life.

Malaysian-Born Girl Accepted Into All Eight Ivy League Universities

Image courtesy:  ocregister.com

Guest post by Alex Tann, Malaysian born Solicitor based in London.

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Young Cassandra Hsiao, all of 17, is making headlines for being accepted into all 8 Ivy League schools and additionally to Stanford University, John Hopkins University, New York University and many others in UC circuit. She immigrated at the age of 5 from Malaysia to USA and her essay was about crossing the language barrier by learning English.

When I read her essay (courtesy: http://afterschool.my/news/72793-2/) I remembered having to “re-learn” my English when I first came to England. As a result, I find I am able to understand people with all sorts of accents because I try to understand what they are trying to tell me without finding faults with the way they say it. When clients apologise to me for not being able to speak English as it is spoken here in England I would say, “But I understand what you’re saying to me.” For the universities that accepted that Malaysian girl to be “impressed” with her story of this struggle is novel and admirable. But for me, what stood out in her essay was her mother’s account of her class president who stood up for her against her bullies in class. It was this incident that changed her life and subsequently that of her daughter.

Here is her winning essay:

In our house, English is not English. Not in the phonetic sense, like short a is for apple, but rather in the pronunciation – in our house, snake is snack. Words do not roll off our tongues correctly – yet I, who was pulled out of class to meet with language specialists, and my mother from Malaysia, who pronounces film as flim, understand each other perfectly.

In our house, there is no difference between cast and cash, which was why at a church retreat, people made fun of me for “cashing out demons.” I did not realize the glaring difference between the two Englishes until my teacher corrected my pronunciations of hammock, ladle, and siphon. Classmates laughed because I pronounce accept as except, success as sussess. I was in the Creative Writing conservatory, and yet words failed me when I needed them most.

Suddenly, understanding flower is flour wasn’t enough. I rejected the English that had never seemed broken before, a language that had raised me and taught me everything I knew. Everybody else’s parents spoke with accents smarting of Ph.D.s and university teaching positions. So why couldn’t mine?

My mother spread her sunbaked hands and said, “This is where I came from,” spinning a tale with the English she had taught herself.

When my mother moved from her village to a town in Malaysia, she had to learn a brand new language in middle school: English. In a time when humiliation was encouraged, my mother was defenseless against the cruel words spewing from the teacher, who criticized her paper in front of the class. When she began to cry, the class president stood up and said, “That’s enough.”

“Be like that class president,” my mother said with tears in her eyes. The class president took her under her wing and patiently mended my mother’s strands of language. “She stood up for the weak and used her words to fight back.”

We were both crying now. My mother asked me to teach her proper English so old white ladies at Target wouldn’t laugh at her pronunciation. It has not been easy. There is a measure of guilt when I sew her letters together. Long vowels, double consonants — I am still learning myself. Sometimes I let the brokenness slide to spare her pride but perhaps I have hurt her more to spare mine.

As my mother’s vocabulary began to grow, I mended my own English. Through performing poetry in front of 3000 at my school’s Season Finale event, interviewing people from all walks of life, and writing stories for the stage, I stand against ignorance and become a voice for the homeless, the refugees, the ignored. With my words I fight against jeers pelted at an old Asian street performer on a New York subway. My mother’s eyes are reflected in underprivileged ESL children who have so many stories to tell but do not know how. I fill them with words as they take needle and thread to make a tapestry.

In our house, there is beauty in the way we speak to each other. In our house, language is not broken but rather bursting with emotion. We have built a house out of words. There are friendly snakes in the cupboard and snacks in the tank. It is a crooked house. It is a little messy. But this is where we have made our home.

 

@mediapositivity

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