Snorkeling...Isolation in the Boundless Beauty of the Formidable Ocean

Snorkeling...Isolation in the Boundless Beauty of the Formidable Ocean
By Sharon S. Joag

Incredibly thrilling to swim out with fins and snorkel gear into the depths of the ocean.  Starting from shore on a small island, I saw that the depth increases almost instantly and I was faced with the vastness of the ocean.

It's an undeniably solitary sport, even if you are snorkeling with a group.  Since once your snorkel gear is on, and your head is under water, all you can see is the ocean and the fish, and all you can really hear is your own amplified breathing, in and out.  It feels like pure isolation, almost meditative and you are left with your own mind.  Your own thoughts to guide you or to torment you.

Challenging your natural instinct to breathe in through your nose, and forced to breathe with your mouth; the snorkel mask helping to keep your nose from doing any work.  Unlike scuba diving, where you can go to depths of exploration unlike any other, into the ocean, snorkeling gives you the amazing glimpse into the ocean, yet keeps you "grounded" to the air, where you can come up at any time and feel secure that you can breathe normally in a matter of seconds.

One day, I decided that I didn't need any snorkel gear.  Having only a mask, I decided to dive under, and take a look at all the wonderful, colorful fish I'd never seen.  Having only a mask gave me a false sense of security, and I automatically started to breathe underwater, like it was second nature.
Then, realizing it was a fatal move, I rushed to the surface to spit up the water, and frantically gulped in some fresh air.  

Cars

I appreciate the guest post, Vito Rivers

Why are guys so obsessed with cars? We were driving north through Kentucky and saw signs for the “Tear Jerker Car and Craft Show.” Obviously the craft part was to convince the ladies to allow their husbands to go. And yes, we went. The crafts were less than desirable, but according to my husband, the cars were legendary. Really? I don’t see it. Shiny and loud, yes, but worthy of tears, no. I get that you can customize them. I even get that you can paint them pretty colors, but that just makes them sound like the crafts we saw: scintillating, custom, and in all kinds of colors. But I don’t get tingly inside from crafts. My husband practically drools over custom antique cars. He could watch car shows on TV all day long. I wonder if the “Tear Jerker” show hooked up with direct tv lexington to get on the local Do-It-Yourself channels. My husband and many other men like him would definitely watch, so I guess that’s one way to get him out of my hair.

PAPERCLIP: The Beginning…

I have finally been formed, sitting her in a box full of my brothers.  I can’t wait to move.  I feel so stiff, with my legs and arms twisted; I wish I were a girl.  At least I’d be pretty, and be able to have different colors.  But I know I’m a boy, because boys are always put into these huge boxes with other boys, and there are no windows to look out of.  I saw a few of my sisters when they were being made.  They had a large window where everyone could look into, and they could look out and see the world too.  They looked so bright and cheery with their pink, yellow and green coats on.  I wonder if I’ll be able to wear coats like that one day.

But from what the elders have told me about their adventures, until they returned years and years later, our lives will be full of excitement; unless of course we get stuck with a company.  If that happens, who knows what may happen to us; they say the boys usually end up under piles and piles of white sheets if they end up involved with a big firm, or some large facility which uses us daily. 

The girls on the other hand are so lucky.  They only stay at one place for a short time and flit around to another place where they are wanted more for their coats.  The girls have a much richer life, full of travel, escapades and fun!

My only hope is that they send me back to the factory one day and I will be transformed into a girl.  J 

The Airport, A basket, and a Rabbit!!

I decided to take a trip to California during the summer.  I couldn’t sit alone all week while my husband was on a business trip, so I thought that I would go to Las Vegas, and possibly include a quick trip to San Francisco and even the Grand Canyon.  I packed a large suitcase and decided to go on my trip for one week.  While packing, I realized that I had no one to drive me to the airport, so I decided to call for a cab.  I called a local cab company, and gave them my flight information and when I needed to be picked up.  They decided that they would come and get me around 7pm.  My flight was at 8:30pm and the airport was not too far from my home.  Not to mention, that it was not an international flight, so there were not as many checks to go through. 

When I got to the airport, I checked my suitcase in, and I decided to keep a small purse with my kindle, so I could read on the plane.  I found a nice quiet spot in the terminal area, right by my gate.  I sat myself down, with a cup of coffee that I bought at the deli and opened my purse to get my kindle out.  As I reached into my purse, I heard a bit of rustling near me, so I instinctively looked up and around to make sure that no one around me needed help.  But the terminal was virtually empty.  I bent down to look under my seat, to see if the rustling was coming from there, and that’s when I saw a basket, which was moving from side to side.  The basket was causing the rustling motion! 

I reached down and pulled the basket out, and looked all around once again, hoping to find the owner of the basket running toward me, but there was not a soul that even noticed what I was doing.

So, I pulled the basket completely out.  It was light brown, made of wicker and looked almost like a picnic basket, with a top covering the opening of the basket and a large handle.  The top cover had two openings, one on the left and one on the right.  I was staring at the moving basket wondering what to do next, when the lid on the right side of the basket quickly opened and closed.  I knew that obviously something was in that basket and it was alive. 

It took all my courage to lift up the lid on the basket and right there was the little face of a rabbit.  He was all white, with a pink nose, shivering and frightened.  Oh My! What do I do now??  I went up to the desk by the gate entrance and asked the employee if someone had reported a missing basket.  She looked at my quizzically and said that she would look at the lost and found list on the computer. She said that no one had reported any such thing.  I decided not to tell her about my bunny rabbit and for some reason, I made up my mind to take my rabbit to Vegas. 

I quickly picked up the basket and went to the bathroom, where I opened the top of the basket and peered inside.  The rabbit was only a baby, and he had plenty of food and water left for him.  In the container of food, I noticed something glistening.  I took the container out of the basket to get a better look, and that’s when I noticed that the container had a clear bottom.  Under all the food, was another compartment filled with rose petals, and a heart shaped emerald sitting in the bed of roses.  And right underneath all of that was a little white piece of paper.  I carefully twisted open the bottom container.  The emerald was glistening and breath taking as it sat on the rose petals.  I reached in and pulled out the little note.

“To the love of my life…. Happy Anniversary!  Yours Forever.” 

Now, I really felt bad.  I had removed a surprise gift to someone else!!! I had to go back to the same place I was sitting before and return the basket.  I felt like such a big confounded fool !! I quickly put the food container back, and rushed out of the bathroom, only to find my husband standing there with his arms wide open. 

“Hi sweetheart!” he said.  “You found the basket!! I knew you would pick the quietest corner, so I put the basket there.”

“Did you really think I would let you go to Vegas ALONE??” he mused… 

Perfection vs Just Can't!!

Perfection: A Perfect Day of Writing.

My body draws in the heat from my palms as they rest against my cup of hot chocolate. 

I sink further and further into the warm nest of covers I have created in the corner of my art room. 

Here, is my very own space, filled with odds and ends; posters and pictures I would not dare to hang anywhere else; my sand collection from the faraway places I have been to; my own crochet and paintings of fairies, clowns and birds hang on the walls around me.  A map of the world covers the entire wall facing me, daring me to think about other cultures and peoples. 

I close my eyes, as a diffuser at the far end of the room continues to send me wisps of lemongrass, a piece of an Island I brought home with me. 

Here, the words flow endlessly.  Here, in the warm nest of covers in the corner of my art room, I am. 

Just Can’t!!

My eyes see double when I try and focus on the paper in front of me.  My thoughts wander to my parents, my brother, and my friends.  I hold a pen in my frozen fingers.  A sudden chill runs through me as I shake it off wondering why I am so cold. 

Okay! Concentrate! I have to write!

I have layers of clothes on, but still the frigid air seeps into my bones.  The heater must not be working. 

I start to fidget in my chair.  The left side of my leg has become numb.  I shift in my chair to try and get more comfortable, but a spot on my back starts to itch.  I twist back and forth, relentlessly trying to get to that spot.  I have too many layers on and I just can’t seem to get to it.  Oh forget it, my nose itches more!

Okay, I got it.  Of course, now everything itches!  I must look like a monkey in my itching frenzy. 

I have to fix the heater.  It’s too cold in here and I’m hungry!

The Lighted Candle

I've lighted a candle which now sits in front of me.  The light flickers in waves that seem to go out for an imperceptible second, only to return again like magic.  

The radiance of the light shines through my orange candle.  I can see the light flickering through the outer wax shell, creating a sunset of orange, yellow, and red hues.  

I catch a glimpse of the flame as it tries to toss itself up and out of the candle's top.  With each attempt at getting out of its waxy shell, the flame seems to dig itself deeper and deeper into its very own demise.

The Room Where I Write

A chill runs through my body as I breathe in the cool air around me.  I hear the fan blowing above me as it tosses the top few hairs on my head.  The breeze tickles my head and I instinctively pass my fingers through my hair.

My wandering eyes catch on to the tiny droplets of water left hanging on the window.  Each one so perfectly round; each one untouched and pure until a gust of wind molds them into long strands, tilting left and tilting right.

Tiny droplets of water hang onto the branches of the tree outside my window.  They cling to the thin limbs as they fight to hang on, but in the end they always end up on the cold, glistening street below.

My Father

Flames cascaded over my father’s lifeless body, enveloping him in a cocoon.  He would soon be gone, slowly fading into ash forever.  My mind started tracing over our time together.  The memories came one by one, each one etched so very deeply into my memory that they seem to have become part of me; part of my soul. 

Not everyone understood my father, and not everyone liked my father.  I used to think I only loved him because he was my father.  I probably would not have tried as hard to be close to him if he was anyone else.  According to the old-timers, we (as children) should be “seen and not heard”.  And my father was an old-timer.  The interactions I had with him were subtle.  A pat on the shoulder when I brought home a good grade on an exam; and a nod of his head, with his eyes fixed on mine when I woke up on time and did my chores.  He never could bring himself to hug me.  It was just his way.

As the fire continued to swarm over him, I thought of the last few days; I remember thinking that I had to get to my father’s side.  I had to see him.  On one particular night I awoke from a dream and booked the next flight to my hometown.  In my dream my father was reaching out to me, asking me to come to see him one last time.  And three days later, here I was standing at my father’s pyre. 

The night before he died he finally said what he would never say with words.  For several moments he looked straight at me as he had done my whole life, but this time I felt something more.  He reached his hand out to touch mine, and I saw that glimmer of love and affection that I so longer for.  Although I may never have known my father as a man, I knew right then that we had a connection, and I knew that he loved me.  He was ready to go, and I was ready to let him.  

This is a fictional story.  Any resemblance to actual events and people is purely coincidental.  

"Weed Out Class"

I was a speaker at an event the other day, and I remember preparing for the speech for about 5 minutes the night before the event, and while preparing, my mind drifted back to when I experienced my first public speech.  If it wasn't for a Freshman class requirement, I may not have ever gotten over my fear of Public Speaking. 

After I got through one of my first Freshman classes in college, it seemed as though my entire life turned around.  The class was called, "Public Speaking" and it was a required class.  Contrary to what I expected would be a true "weed out" class, intended especially to weed out a shy, and introverted freshman, like I was, it turned out to be a truly unforgettable experience. 

In High School, I was extremely bashful, and exquisitely quiet.  I remember struggling with myself, wanting to answer a question one of my high school teachers had asked, but not wanting my answer to be wrong.  I was too afraid of what everyone else would think if my answer turned out to be silly, or if I used a wrong word without realizing it.  I created a fear deep inside  which increased each time I didn't raise my hand, or participate in class; a fear which stayed to haunt me throughout my high school years. 

When I learned that I had to take a "Public Speaking" class during my first semester in college, I was devastated.  I hated to speak during class, much less to speak in front of a class, where every one's attention would be directed toward me.  I got sweaty palms just thinking about the name of the course. 

Finally, the dreaded day came when I had to give my first speech.  My heart was pounding and racing while I was quietly sitting in class waiting for the speech before mine to get over.  I was hardly listening when the teacher called out my name.  My mind was reeling with thoughts of how my speech would turn out.  I was afraid that I would stutter, or for get to say something, or even worse, I would just completely blank out.  And what would the class think of me?
I looked at my class mates when I got to the front of the class.  I then looked toward my teacher, who nodded his assent for me to begin.  Then I took a deep breath, looked out toward my select audience, and began my endless monologue.  I remember shaking while I uttered my first words, and then a feeling of complete numbness washing over me.  I don't even remember much of what I said, but to my relief, I didn't leave out too many things, and I didn't stutter or blank out.  I just felt so at peach with myself when I finally sat down.  I could barely hear my heart beating and I wasn't afraid any more.  I was just...numb!  ... and relieved!  I made it and it was over.  I survived and actually felt a little better.

When I walked up to do my second and my third speeches in that Public Speaking class, I was still afraid, but my fear had transformed itself into apprehension.  I no longer dreaded speaking.  I was not afraid of what people would think; I just hoped that I wouldn't make a mistake and let myself down.  I started striving to do my best to make Me happy and I only got a few jitters just before my speech, but as the speech went along, I gained more and more confidence in myself. 

As my confidence grew, so did my outlook on life.  I no longer felt shy to ask a question in class, or when I made a mistake, or did something  wrong.  I new that if I did make a mistake, it was not the end of the world; in fact, I would learn something new from each one of my mistakes.  I became a stronger person from within, and I managed to emanate that to everyone around me.  I took advantage of my new found courage, and I joined several clubs in my University, as well as the Volleyball intramural.  I declared myself captain, and I formed a team of my own, and we even won second place. 

Looking back, I can hardly believe how far I have come.  From the shy, introverted person afraid to do almost anything and everything, I had come to feel so at peace with myself.  It is like an enlightenment of a sort.  I felt strong from inside and I think that after living 18 years of my life, I finally realized who I was and the potential that I had. 

NEW JERSEY SKY

The new profile picture above is the sky this morning, July 19, 2009 at 5:10am.
I had an urge to get up this morning just to breathe in the morning air and let the air consume me.




The morning, just before the sun rises is the best time to be outdoors. That window of opportunity, where you can rejuvinate and feel whole and complete is the hours of dawn, when the sun is starting to come up but it has not completely risen.




The air is pure and fresh and the birds and animals are just waking up. I can sense their activity, and I can almost picture them coming out of their stupor, waking up to the new world.
The birds also start with their sporadic chirping. It is the favorite time of the day for me. I used to wake up before everyone in my home when I was a kid.. my father used to call me the "alarm clock" for our home. But these days I rarely have a chance to wake up in time to see the sun rise. Even If I do wake up on time, I rarely have the focus or the frame of mind to relax and just enjoy the beauty surrounding me.
I was happy that I had that chance to do that today. I have to do this more often. Its a form of meditation; a clearing of the mind and a beginning of a new day and a new life.

THE OCEAN

The gray waters stretch out to the far reaches of the horizon from where I stand. I am at the brink of this enormous pool of water. The ocean is calm today, quiescent yet unyielding.
Incomprehensibly damaging in its apparant innocence. Daunting in its vastness. If evolution were to choose for us gills, we may be able to finally explore our abyss and only then will we be able to truly comprehend her power.

My Summers and The Woods

I can see the woods behind my home. I can smell the fresh, crisp taste of summer in the air. I can hear the birds chirping and I can see the bright sun throwing its rays across the blue sky, and into my backyard. I stand on my deck longing to be in the woods. Each summer day I would wake up just to smell the new day, and imagine what I would find in the woods.

The woods have a way of beckoning me. "Come in, Come in" they say. "Come and see what you are missing." The trees form a kind of doorway into a magnificent universe which awaits me. I run down two flights of stairs, out of my home, across the thick, plush grass and into my backyard. I gaze upwards and see tiny black specks flying in a V across the sky, and then, I see my mother, leaning out of my deck, warning me to return home before it gets dark. I wave quickly to her and dash away towards the woods.

I walk quickly through the grass, so thick that it hides my sneakers as I make my way to the gate of the woods. The tall trees loom before me; they wait, daring me to make my first move and venture into the woods.
The mud by the tree trunks are wet, from last night's rain. I notice this as I start walking to the edge of the forest. The wind rustles the leaves of the trees and swirls my hair all about my face. I struggle to move the branches out of the way, and push my hair from my eyes. Is the wind there to help the trees? Are they all trying to stop me from entering their home? They are taunting me, daring me to come in.

I keep walking... walking over old, brown leaves from last fall. They crunch as I step over them, so brittle they crumble with just one step. Each step I take sounds so terribly loud, and makes me feel like an intruder into this new world. I step over old, broken branches and small pebbles resting on a bed of brown earth. I pick up a branch, studying it closely. I notice a layer of green mold growing on one end, and on the other a quiet earthworm wrapping and twisting its way up to my fingers. I drop the branch and keep walking.

A squirrel suddenly lurches from behind a tree branch, and swings onto another tree right in front of me, as if taunting me, and daring me to venture in. Resting on her haunches, she studies me from the tree, her little arms held up high.
I am not afraid! I keep walking. The mud walkway between the trees creates an unmistakable path, on which I must walk, and one which I must follow. The mud walkway leads me down, farther down its slopes.

I can hear the silent brushing of the stream against the solid rocks just ahead. I can see the slight ripple of the water as the current takes each ripple downstream.
Where is she going? Where is she flowing? Should I follow it or should I jump over it and keep walking?

DO WE REALLY WANT TO CONQUER OUR ADDICTION TO TELEVISION?

Have you ever actually sat down in your living room and observed your family member or friend who was watching television?

The absolute dead focus in their eyes; A slight flicker of their eyelids and the almost unnoticible dart of their eyes as they move from side to side and up and down, trying desperately to keep up with the changing images presented before them? The producers are always attempting to grab their attention with every scene thrown on the screen and every word uttered by the characters.

We as people have become inactive, struggling to keep up with our favorite shows and cruising through our 500 television channels.

Are we to ever be satisfied? Do we need to be constantly stimulated in such a tireless manner? And at what expense? At the expense of losing ourselves to the imagined and intangible world inside a box or as it now is, a flat screen...

What has happened to our love for nature? What has happened to waking up just before the dawn and watching the sun as it comes up and colors the sky a different color each day? What has happened to searching the stars for the constellations that we should know?
We as a people have collectively turned into the zombies that we so feared in the Alfred Hitchcock films and the Twilight Zone stories. We are unable to even think of things to discuss.

Our topics will slowly become limited to what was on television last night.
It is no more about our neighbors. In fact, if you ask yourselves, most of you may not even know your neighbors, or have even seen them, much less be able to converse with them.
It is no more that we have intense debates and discussions around the dinner table and afterwards about a topic that is passionate to us. For, we don't even have a topic that is passionate to us. Our minds have become flat screens that we stare at night after night.

Becoming so used to our constant need for stimulation, we are unable to concentrate and we end up getting distracted very easily. Reading a book makes us fall asleep instantly, helping us to get into another intangible world that we can live in; a world that we are comfortable in.

How can we conquer our addiction to television and Do we even Desire to?

OBESITY

I was just sitting in my living room, watching commercials on Television, when I noticed that most of the commercials are geared towards low fat, dieting, gyms, and everything geared toward losing weight.
I couldn't believe it! We are becoming an obsessive compulsive dieting, low fat society. All our thoughts are geared towards weight and weight LOSS in particular.

Did you know that people who actually have a metabolic disorder or a neuroendocrine disorder ( such as hypothyroidism, Cushing's Syndrome, or Polycystic Ovarian disease) do not get excessively obsese? And these are the people who have more of a tendency to get obese.

Statistically, neuroendocrine disorders cause less than 1% of the total cases of obesity!

Obesity occurs in individuals who do NOT have an underlying metabolic disorder!

Hmmmmm...........

THOUGHTS.........OF THE PAST

I was never really into sports... all through grade school and into highschool.

I was on a volleyball team when I was 12 and 13 cause my school was so small ( a Baptist school in Mankato, Minnesota) that I had to be on the team so that we could have enough players!

Anyhow, I ended up being the top cheerleader as well (mostly again because I was the smallest out of the lot and they could pick me up and toss me around). But this got me into sports. My first sports experience as a top cheerleader and volleyball player!

Later as my little brother got older and wanted to play, he started playing tennis; so naturally I started to play. And I became a decent player. We went for tennis lessons every Saturday morning at 5am for 2 hours. Our instructor said that my brother had talent and I had "potential". Everyone knows what that means! :)

But funny as it may seem, I ended up starting my own intramural volleyball team at my University. And believe it or not, but we won! It was so great to be able to start a team and to be the team captain. I had so much fun doing it and it made me open up a lot more.
Later that year, I joined a club on campus which focused on volunteer work in the community. I worked so hard and was dedicated to the club. It made me feel good to help others. The next year, my sophomore year, I was voted as Vice President of the Volunteer Organization.
My Junior year I became President of the volunteer organization and Director of an Income tax class (Volunteer Income Tax Assistance).
Becoming Director and President of a club on campus gave me opportunities to go to Leadership Seminars which were held overnight on a Lake in Upstate New York.
I feel that in those years I really grew and became a very different person from when I was in grade school.

The next 7 years flew by so quickly. I don't know what happened. I went to Podiatry school and was so immersed in the school and in my studying, that I neglected all sports-realted activity. I continued to work out occasionally, especially when I had my orthopedic rotation for months at a time. But I never joined a team and I believe I may even have lost my leadership skills.

After residency, I started working and that consumed me. I wanted to do well and I wanted others to see that I was capable of doing well. So I immersed myself in work. Later that year, I met someone whom I married 2 years later.
He brought out that leader that was hiding in me. He had always been athletic growing up and excelled at sports... cricket, basketball, tennis, soccer; you name it and he was at the top of his team! Needless to say, I started to play more sports. We started to play volleyball together and I found that I was actually pretty good! And of course I started to play tennis! My years playing tennis when I was in highschool all came back. I joined a league with my husband and we started to meet some amazing people. He joined his own leagues through work... basketball and soccer.

Now we are having the time of our lives. We try and incorporate some physical activity into our lives on a daily basis. It has not only helped our relationship, but it has made us feel more complete as individuals.
Being on a team is a whole new experience. You strive to do well for your team mates and for yourself. If you do well, your teammates encourage you to do better and if you fail, you know that they will be there to support you.
We had our end of the year party last night for my Maywood Tennis Team. I will miss them. And I will miss the team! We pledged to keep playing during the year. But even if we don't, I know that I have grown from my experience and I will continue to play and meet more people and teams.

Thanks Team! I'll miss you.

TRUTH

I was 15 years old, and life was good. I went to school every day, came home, played tennis with my little brother, had dinner, did my homework, and went to bed. I was a good student. I got straight A’s most of the time, and my parents expected me to do well, and to be a good student. They always encouraged studying and reading. My father would turn off the television, radio and any sound-producing device just to keep the home quiet especially if I had an exam to study for. He would go out of his way to shush everyone up, insisting that I had an exam and the home should be made conducive to studying.

My work was always the most important in my home. If Lal (that’s me) had to study, you had to be quiet! No exceptions. My parents came to this country when I was only 6 years old and my brother was 6 months old. They struggled to make ends meet their first 2-3 years and they saved whenever they could. They wanted the best for us. They came to this country for a better life and they wanted us to do well. They put their personal lives on hold for us. Everything they did was always with us in mind….. me and my little brother.
I was exceptionally good at math, and I had made it to a math honors program in my high school. I was even on my school’s math team. One day, I came home with an unusually low test grade on a math exam I had taken. It was the Midterm and the Math Professor needed us to get our Exams signed by our parents if we got lower than a 70%.

I got a 65%. My entire world had come to an end! How could I get such a low grade? How was I going to show this grade to my parents? They expected so much from me and I was sourly disappointing them! I was so ashamed. I thought long and hard about it and I decided to forge my dad’s signature. After all, I had practiced his signature numerous times. I always wanted to sign like him. So, that night, I sat in my room under a guise that I had an exam to study for and I practiced his signature again and again. I signed my math exam and hid it away in my book bag.

I anxiously waited for math class the next day. I handed my teacher the Exam, signed and all. I felt a rush of relief swarm over me as I handed the signed copy over to my professor. I had done it! I had succeeded to pull it off and I didn’t have to disappoint my parents. I knew I had lied, but lying was all worth it as long as my parents didn’t find out about it. They expected so much from me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them.

That same day, I came home for dinner after my daily tennis jaunt with my brother. My father was home from work. He was not his usual jovial self at dinner and after we were done, he said that he wanted to speak with me. He asked me if I had anything to tell him. I said that I did not. He asked me again and I said “No.”

How could he possibly know about my score? There was no conceivable way! I continued to deny any knowledge of anything. My dad asked me how I had done on my math test, and I said that I had done fine. At this point, I probably should have figured out that he knew something, but I really thought that I had pulled it off.
He asked me what score I got on it, and I told me a 95% of course! He quietly asked me what I had missed, and I told him matter-of-factly about ONE of the questions I had gotten wrong. I continued to discuss the problem with him in detail. I was fortunate to have a dad who was an engineer and he had studied math extensively. My dad listened to me quietly, with a solemn, sad look on his face.

Then without batting an eye, my father revealed to me that my Math Professor had called and spoken to him about my test score. He said that the professor was happy that my father had signed the exam, and was aware of my midterm results. My heart sunk. My dad looked straight at me, disappointment and sadness haunting his eyes.

Then I felt the Royal Sting in my face. My dad had slapped me. It stung more deeply than anything else thus far in my life. I still remember that sting….

In his quiet, unabashed way, he said to me, “Lal, that slap was not for getting a 65% on your math exam. That slap was because you lied to me. Don’t ever lie, and don’t ever lie to me again. I will never get mad at you because you get a low grade. Not EVER. I want you to remember that. But I will get upset if you lie.”

Those words are forever engraved in my memory. That life lesson has stayed with me and I put a lot of weight today on honesty and sincerity. I was never again afraid of my dad. I was never again afraid of getting a bad grade, and of discussing it with him. He would sit with me for hours, as long as it took for me to understand and grasp an idea or a math problem. He taught me tricks in math that even the teachers hadn’t taught me or (I dare say) didn’t even know. We worked long and hard on my math. And I actually did get a 95% on the Final Exam.

“Failure is a Stepping Stone to Success.” My Father would say. “Use it as a way to learn from your mistakes. And more importantly, always tell the truth, for the Truth Shall Set you Free."

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SHOULD AIRLINES CHARGE FOR CHECKED IN BAGGAGE?

YOGI SAYS:
I love both your thought-provoking topic and your article. Here is the proof—my comment. Airlines, like any other business, must charge for all their costs and more to make a profit. Therefore, the real question is “should airlines charge for checked-in baggage separately” or even “how should airlines charge for checked-in baggage.” And the answer would really depend upon “what do the airlines want to ultimately happen,” because every different way of charging will have different consequences.


Consider this: If the airlines decided to divide their luggage carrying costs equally among all passengers, all will pay the same—and higher than now—ticket price, but once the decision to travel is taken, people will try to carry the maximum amount of luggage they can think of. However, the result will be that in the long run, the price of tickets will keep going up. That is exactly what is happening today to the carry-on baggage. Since its cost is included in the base ticket price, people try to take along as much as the rules would permit, even when they cannot physically lift or even drag it. This situation is even further aggravated because airlines do not always check the actual size and weight of the carry-ons.


Therefore, assuming airlines make their profit primarily by carrying passengers, they should actually start charging for all luggage including carry-on. That would result in passengers carrying only the very minimum necessary things. Even better would be to practically ban all carry-on luggage, with the exceptions of travel documents, and other few critical necessities such as medicines, eyeglasses etc. That would restore the concept of carry-on back to its true purpose, more space would be freed inside the aircraft, and the turnaround time will be reduced.


On a lighter note, imagine what would happen if the ticket price for the person was also based on his or her weight. People would become weight conscious, companies would allow only the healthy executives to travel, and people would not overeat during the journey. What better way to promote health-consciousness in a society that desperately needs it.


ORIGINAL ARTICLE:
SHOULD AIRLINES CHARGE FOR CHECKED IN BAGGAGE?

Airlines should most certainly NOT charge for checking in baggage. Some airlines were already charging for checked in baggage if it exceeded 2 bags. Now, the airlines are charging $15 for the first bag and $25 for the second bag. This new concept of paying for all baggage checked in is ridiculous! Even more ridiculous is the fact that not everyone is being charged for checked in bags. Passengers excluded are those who are "elite" level frequent-flier club members and those paying the full fare.
Airline companies, like all other companies are a business. Businesses have ups and downs, and they have losses like all other companies. This loss that they are experiencing now on the whole is not on such a grand scale as to start charging individuals for it!
The only reason they have the audacity to do this is because the world has become and is becoming more and more globalized. We are now able to deal with people on other continents face to face in a matter of hours. In the past, making a long journey to another continent was a big ordeal. These days, it is commonplace to hear that you or your friend went to London and Paris in one week. The airlines know this and they are making a profit off the travelers.
The cost for a summer flight when compared to last year is already up by 20%; the airlines are thus making up for their losses from fuel costs right there. Why couldn't the airlines start with cutting down the size of the carry on luggage, thereby being able to allow the same amount of check in luggage? Has anyone seen the size of the carry-on luggage in today's world? The carry on bags are humongous! They barely fit into the overhead compartments and they have become so heavy, some passengers are not even able to lift their own bags. This should have been another criteria the airlines could have implemented. They could have a restriction on the weight of the luggage; the luggage should be of a weight that you can carry or lift, approximately say, half the weight of your own body. Another idea is to retire "older, fuel-guzzling aircraft", and only run on the newer aircraft which are more environmentally friendly and use less fuel.
One consequence to charging for checked in luggage will be longer check in lines at the airport, as more and more people with try and fit everything into their carry on luggage. This will create greater security lines and overfilling of the overhead compartments. Some people may even be required to check in their carry on luggage when the over head bins all fill up. This will create even more delays.The airlines could have cut corners in other ways, creating a safer environment in the plane, with smaller, lighter carry on baggage and allowed the same check in baggage regimen. However, they are still a business and they have acted like a business who knows that they can call the shots. They do not need to give incentives any longer, as people NEED to travel and they will travel due to the globilization of the world.
If travel for vacation or leisure is cut down, the travel for business will still continue.

FORECLOSED HOMES

Today a patient of mine told me a story of his home of 30 years that he had to leave behind. He was forced to leave yesterday, and he had to put all of his things in storage.

It was not a straight run of the mill foreclosure. Apparantly he and his wife had refinanced on their home when his wife got lung cancer and they had numerous other bills to pay off. They did not have enough money to pay their hospital bills and their living expenses, so his wife had to get a lien on the home. It was probably the worst decision they ever made, as one can see in hindsight, but at the time, it was the only option that they had.



His wife died last year and during that time he had an injury at work, where he hurt his back lifting heavy loads.


Foreclosures happen in many ways. Even if the home is completely paid off, you can still lose your home if you make bad financial decisions and especially if you refinance on your home.
Their medical expenses were so unbelievably high, with all of the chemotherapy expenses, and medical and hospital visits. Their health insurance only paid for a percentage of the total cost they incurred.


Between Foreclosures and The Atrocious Health Care System, our country seems to be on a downward spiral right now.
It is so unbelievable for insurance companies to charge so much money for care of a patient who has a terminal illness. They know full well that the terminal patient will eventually die and that cost of cancer treatments and just care of the patient will inevitably fall on the shoulders of the family members once that person is gone.


How could this country's health care be so defiantly apathetic!



Don't our tax dollars go into the wars and battles we fight oversees that we really know nothing about, and only know in theory and from the pictures that are chosen for us to see?

So, why can't our tax dollars be spent on health care? Why can't our country have an optional tax where we can opt out of it and go into private insurance if we want, but have a blanket health care for everyone which will cover everything?

How is it fair that people with lower income brackets have virtually every expense covered, but those of us who work hard can hardly afford a health plan?



As a human being, I think it is important for our country to think about all of our peoples' lives. Yes, our taxes will be higher, and some argue that they are healthy and do not want to pay for the next person's illness. But we should also act as a community; as a family. God forbid something were to happen to even the healthiest of us all, we would have the best of health care available, and insurance companies and medical costs will not destroy our lives completely.
I believe that we should also have the option of private insurance for those of us who desire this.



Do you have any stories of Foreclosures? or Health Care? Do you agree? Disagree? Comments?

“INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL”

I just got home after watching Indian Jones, the last one where Harrison Ford acts as an older “Indie”. He does an excellent job as an actor, and as only Harrison Ford can; especially when he acts as Indiana Jones.

But what I came away with was an interesting curiosity in my mind. Could there really be an “El Dorado”? Or could there have been an El Dorado, at some time? And could that City of Gold have been created by Extraterrestrials? I have often wondered about the civilizations of the Mayans and the Incas. How did they create such extravagant cities and how did they reach a level of peaceful existence that we can only imagine today. Yes, they were wiped out by the Spaniards; however, they may have reached a higher level of consciousness, and were attempting to peacefully make friends with the Spaniards and to learn about them.

Unfortunately, the Spaniards did not realize who or what they had discovered. They were only trying to explore and conquer. They mistook the gentleness of the Mayans and the Incas for stupidity, and were convinced that they could be controlled. In the end, the Spaniards contributed to the decline of the Mayans. They brought with them diseases that the Mayans were never exposed to; the Spaniards also imposed Catholicism on the Mayans, and instituted a political organization into the society. The Mayans dwindled in number and were driven to farmland that was unused by the Spaniards.

The same could be said of the other ancient civilizations that have mysteriously dissolved, such as the the Egyptians, and the cities of Harappa, Mohenjo-daro and Lothal, all in southeast Asia.

Could we just be in a world where we relearn everything over and over again. Now for instance, our civilization wants to be more peaceful and it wants to reach a higher level of consciousness. People like Eckhardt Tolle who wrote “Power of Now” and “A New Earth” and others, like James Redfield, who wrote the “Celestine Prophecy”, are people who have caught a glimpse of attaining another level of consciousness. Other courses all across the globe are grabbing the attention of people, including “The Art of Living”, which are courses that help you to learn how to live a more fulfilled life and a happier life, just by tapping into your subconscious self.

Could the Mayans have already achieved this? And when some of us peace loving people do achieve this level that we so desire, will “our Spaniards” destroy us and destroy themselves? And then we will begin the cycle all over again….

ARE YOU POSITIVE ENOUGH?

Are some people born with a negative energy and some with a positive energy? Or does our energy reflect our environment? Do people in our lives influence our energy level? Some people believe that it is a combination of the above factors that makes us either positive or negative individuals.

Or are we just born with neutral energy and then through our experiences, does our neutral energy transform into either positive or negative?
Why do some people always look at the positive side of a given situation and some only look at the negative side? How can some people transform a situation into something they can learn from and some people transform the same situation into an excuse to wallow in their negative energy?

Why do two individuals, both having the same negative environmental factors, grow into two very polar opposite people, with one being extremely positive and successful and one very negative, and wasteful?Are we all born with a certain degree of intuition? Can some of us, who have more insight, more easily draw upon the positive aspect of a situation more easily? On the flip side, if we are not born with this natural intuition, are we not able to tap into this insight which enables us to see the positive side of a given situation?.
Maybe our energy levels that we attain in life are a function of how much insight we are naturally born with? This insight may have to do with our genetic make up or our consciousness.

ATTAINING OUR BASELINE ENERGY FROM BIRTH?
Some people believe that we attain our energy level from birth. They believe that when a child is in the mother’s womb, the child will take on the energy level of the mother. If the mother was anxious, depressed, or troubled during her pregnancy, the child within will also take on that same energy. Carol Tuttle in her book, “Remembering Wholeness: A Personal Handbook for Thriving in the 21st Century” talks about how the energy we attain before our birth leaves an imprint on us. If this energy is negative, we may start out our life with a struggle.

PRAYER: ANOTHER WORD FOR ENERGY
Can a thought also be a form of an energy? Some say that it is. Some think that the universe absorbs the thought. Positive or negative, this energy will go out and touch the people that the thought is directed towards. If the thought is positive, it may help a person and if negative, a thought may be able to hurt the person. However, the thought, negative or positive always comes back to the person from whom it had originated. As the saying goes, “What goes around, Comes around”. Maybe that is what the saying is really trying to tell us. Thoughts are like prayers. Religion tells us to pray. Prayer is actually a form of meditation. It is a focus of thought on a particular person, event, or an outcome. We pray because we want “God” to help us to direct an event in a certain direction, or help a person out of their current negative situation. The religious will say that “God granted my request”. Could “God” just be the personification of energy? Are we not just sending out a pulse or a quantum of energy into the universe? This energy usually does create positive results. People often say that their prayers have been answered.

A STATE OF DEPRESSION:
One negative energy is being in a state of depression. While we are is in this state, we feel sad and morose most of the time. In this state, we feel like we are disconnected with ourselves. Our energy frequency is low, and uncomfortable, and we are unable to fathom how we can actually get out of this state. Depression does not define who we are. It takes a hold of your life and your identity, and creates an illusion of who we are. However, depression can be controlled. It is actually only an expression of our experiences. This state of being in a depression is all consuming. It is like a “good friend” that stays by you through thick and thin. It keeps you safe from the world. It stops you from taking on “unpredictable risks”. This state of being whispers to you, and says things like:I can’t control others and what they do, so I will stay away from everyone.Why do only bad things only happen to me?What am I doing wrong? Why doesn’t anyone like me?These negative thoughts feed into our very soul. Energy follows our thoughts, and these negative thoughts give us negative energy. Sometimes we have been depressed for so long, that we have become comfortable with the low frequency at which we live. Our body is so used to feeling this way, that not having this negative feeling makes us so uncomfortable that we feel that we are going to die.

It becomes very difficult to get out of this state of depression. We must overcome our fear of not feeling negative. Being in this state of depression makes us feel so out of place around positive people, that we may even try and sabotage the positive energy. We may do this by trying to bring the positive people down to a lower energy level by any means possible.

There must be a desire to become more positive before it can be achieved. If this innate desire is not present, there is virtually no way that a positive outlook can be attained.