Is it a crime to drive an old car?

A policeman stopped me for no particular reason..seatbelts-check. Looked at road tax check. Asked me to open my boot, there were beach toys in a bag, a table cloth and some court shoes just in case i need to run into a meeting (Can't go in my Mary Janes). He asked me who were the people in my car, I said both are my daughters..and I said please sir my daughter has 5 mins to catch her bus to college. He said better late than early. He was still looking for faults. My car is an old Wira with a penang plate number..he said are you from Penang, I said yes, but I live here, this car is my Dad's. He was still looking for something...then he asked for my IC..and he took it to his patrol car. I got out of my car and showed him her bus ticket. She had 2 mins left. Then he said, ok, you go, she is late....I was thinking, WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?

Running Fetish fulfilled - Putrajaya Night Run 2010

I have been running for the past 3 or 4 months. I just figured I have been sitting too much doing my translation and writing, that I was beginning to feel unhealthy. So I started looking for a sport I could pick up. It has to have the following criteria:
1= there's no obligation to do it - no specific schedule and such
2= must be something I love
3= something I can do anytime on a whim..because I am that sort of a person
4= will not be expensive

My head was running through a list..and as always..I followed my instinct. A few options came up, but one day, as I was walking by the Nike store in KLCC, I decided to walk in and my eyes fell on these beautiful pair of running shoes..from The Lunar Glide series..I tried it on and it fit like Cinderella's glass slippers..hmm or more like a pair of gloves, it was so comfortable. It was expensive by my standards, so I told myself if I buy this than I'd better make sure that I don't let it go to waste. I figured that I could run in my attire of t-shirt and three quarter pants, so I decided to start right away, I put those darlings on, walked myself right out of KLCC and headed straight to the park. That was how my fetish for running began. At first I could only walk..and just the 1.3km circuit was a task to complete..slowly I began to jog..no not jog, it was more like shuffling my feet pretending to run..and I managed with difficulty up to 200m. Slowly but surely, my running distance increased..and now I run an average of 5km per day. I love running or well maybe it is called jogging, it makes me feel healthy and I am so grateful for the ability to do so. After my experience of being paralysed which you can read here, I realise what a gift it is. Now, if I don't get to run in the evenings or mornings..my body will just make sure I take her for a run around the block at 10 or 11pm.

Finally, urged by friends, I decided to participate in a proper run..just for the heck of it..the PUtrajaya NIght Marathon. I decided to participated in the 7.7km category..i hardly ever exceeded 5km except for once when I hit 10kms, I think I must have been high on something then haha..lurve or some silly notion I had, which dissipated as quickly as it came. But I thought, how much more difficult can it get. So I did it just now..at 9pm..and I completed within 50 minutes or so

Mariam and Huzaifah came with me and they were supposed to take my picture when I reached the finish line, but I guess they didn't expect me to finish that fast haha so they didn't see me finish. I had so much fun..it was such an elation to be overtaking men, who were dashing ahead of me at the beginning of the race...all in all, the running was what made it so wonderful. I was telling my body, during the last km or so..one step at a time, one step at a time..slow down if you are tired..just one step at a time..and we will enjoy some delicious ice cream tomorrow..one step at a time baby...that was my mantra..and when the finish line was in sight, my wonderful body just gained momentum and sped forward and I love my body..you are the most beautiful ...heavy or whatever people call it :P..you are MY bODY..MY "TEMPLE" and I LOVE YOU

Daily Musings

Clouds are beginning to form in the sky. Crumpled cotton wool scattered against creamy azure. In large patches they gather into floating Islands anchored by fluffy mountains with a shady base. Ever since I was 4 or 5 I used to wonder what it would feel like to sit on its edge and dangle my feet down. Is it windy or will I only be stroked by the breeze. Is the breeze cool or warm..what would life be like up there.
What does it feel like to caress the white tuffs..and how does it feel to be caressed by it.

The Cloud Island glided gently. It was on the left side of the tree and now it is nestled behind the leaves..

"You are me"..I said to it.."And I am you."

"I use to KNOW that..now I am beginning to remember..we are ONE?"

"Where are you going my Cloud Island? To see the world? What is your Mission? What is your Purpose?"

"What do you call that occassion when you evolve into rain and have to submit to gravity?" Do you call it DEATH like we call that occasion when we are returned to earth..or do you call it BIRTH or REBIRTH?"

"As you move along the vast blue sky, I see you disperse..you leave tuffs of white cotton behind..which will eventually dissapear and you pick up new ones along the way..
just like my cells dieing and forming new ones..just like my skin shedding and forming new ones
just like friends and family and acquaintances..they come and go...

WE ARE THE SAME"

The leaves on the tree in front of me fluttered..as if giggling and whispered to me in their familiar rustling voices.."What about us?..Don't forget us..we are nearer"

"We are You too..why do you think you can hear us..because it is YOU talking"

I looked up at them and we giggled together in bliss. I love these quiet moments I spend with ME.

And the birds sang their Solfeggio tones..and the world and life continue to flow like the brook merrily gurgling along its way...ONLY THIS TIME

More Slowly

More Purposefully

More Peacefully

Quieting the Mind

I am an advocate of meditation. Having practiced it, I find it most beneficial for me in solving problems, and in helping me see things from the eyes of love and gratitude. As a Muslim, prayer is also a form of meditation, in fact, it is in my opinion, meditation in its most complete form, if done properly, that is. However, sitting in silence, focusing on my breath as I watch my thoughts bubble up, is really something I love to indulge in. It is the best, and the only way to make a shift towards positive thinking. Sometimes, focusing on the breath alone is sufficient to shift our thoughts from resentment about things that don't go our way towards a feeling of gratitude..grateful that we are still alive, because we would realise that it is this breathing that is the gift that keeps us alive..this seemingly mechanical involuntary act of breathing is the greatest gift that we cannot buy with all the material wealth in the world..what a wonder..what a gift..what a blessing

This is something I received in my email about quieting the mind. It is from Susan Gregg, a Toltec guru.

Our mind certainly does seem to like to talk a lot. Problems arise
when we believe what it says. One way to think about quieting the
mind is to think about installing a screen saver. When I am not
using my computer it sits quietly on my desk and if I don't use it
for a while it shuts off.

A great way to quiet our mind is by simply focusing our attention
on our breath. Instead of thinking about it actually focus on
feeling your breath as it goes in and out of your body. If we
practice quieting our mind often enough eventually it will shut off.

She's also done a really nice video to help you meditate here

Maids and Childcare

I found the article at the bottom of this post from the Guardian UK online. And what struck me was, this article may be about the scenario in the UK but I am certain it is a universal problem.

Closer to home, the government is always harping on how the local employers treat foreign workers who are employed as home help badly. Cases of mistreatment of these Indonesian workers are sensationalised to huge proportions to the point that the Indonesian government has stepped in to request for higher wages and better treatment for their citizens who work here. However I am perturbed that nothing is said about the quality of these Indonesian maids who are brought in. Some would run away from their employer's homes within days of being placed there and the employer would have to bear all the costs. Those who stay sometimes treat the children under their care very badly. Due to such high cost of living in a metropolitan city like Kuala Lumpur, both parents work long hours outside their homes and the children are left with these unqualified maids. Since I work from home, I sometimes observe the way these maids treat these children. There are some good ones, but in general, they would be sitting together by about 10 am and waste their day chatting away, only to get into the house when the employers are coming home in the evening. There are some who invite men into their employer's homes. There is one particular maid who really upset me, because I often see her screaming at the children under her care. Even when the poor children return from school, I bet, tired and longing for a loving welcome, I would hear her shouting at them in a very brusque way, asking them to take off their shoes. I would just go to the front of the house and stand there with my hands on my hips, so she knows I am watching..and things will quiet down. I still hear her patronising the children sometimes, and I would go out of the house to make sure that she knows I am listening. I had a mind of telling the parents when they return from work, but once, I saw the maid scolding the children in front of their parents while the just kept quiet and allowed her to do so..what else can I say. Perhaps parents in Malaysia are that desperate. I still keep my ears and eyes open..I have not seen any physical abuse, but if I do, I will head straight to the police station..though I wonder if they will take this seriously..been there done that..but at least I would be doing my part.



How can a child be beaten to death, yet no one is jailed for murder?
When my workmates heard I had applied to join Hackney's child protection team, they asked me: "What the hell are you going there for?" It was a fair question. Nobody wanted to join the "Cardigan Squad" – the name given to child protection officers who were seen as woolly, glorified social workers who mopped up after domestic abuse cases.

It was the least glamorous department in the Metropolitan Police, a career cul-de-sac. Ambitious officers were expected to fight drug dealers and terrorists, the exciting big-budget departments with cool gadgets and prestigious operations.

Not me: I wanted to get my hands dirty. And, unlike almost everyone else, I was in a position to do something about it. So, instead of accepting an offer to head part of a major new glamorous drugs task force, I transferred to child protection.

Within a few months, I had fought machete-wielding thugs, rescued children who had pit bulls chained to their cots and confronted the horrors of ritual abuse. I had rescued dozens of kids from crack houses, kids living in unimaginable filth and kids who had burned down their own homes.

Then there were the hostage situations, the lynch mobs and the almost impossible job of interviewing paedophiles. There was no shortage of cases to investigate. Several hundred children were on our radar at any one time and I soon had 22 on my own list to deal with.

One of my first cases was that of an elderly couple who were bringing up their grandchild on their own. We had received reports that they had been struggling to cope and that the flat was in a bad way. That wasn't the half of it.

The grandfather answered the door. He was missing a limb and covered in scabs. "Do you mind me asking why you have those scabs?" I asked. "Are you ill?" He stared back at me blankly for a moment. "Oh, these!" he said suddenly. "Nah, that's the bloody rats. They nibble my face at night." Good God.

"And what about your...?" I said, pointing at the missing limb. "Yeah, well, that was an infection from the rats; the docs had to lop it off." Christ. They were slowly eating him alive.

I did everything I could: The man was arrested, received words of advice, but the Crown Prosecution Service decided not to prosecute and the child wasn't taken into care.

My next appointment that day was also par for the course. From the moment I stepped inside the flat, a low vicious growling came from upstairs. The house was a tip. There was hardly any furniture, rubbish and bin liners containing clothes covered the floor; there were sheets that looked as if they hadn't been washed in years draped over a tatty sofa doubling as a bed.

I was steadily overpowered by the stink of animal faeces as I climbed. He started to say: "I wouldn't mate…", but it was too late. The foul smell was forgotten in an instant when an enraged pit bull leapt for my face; its jaws snapped shut just shy of my nose; it was held by a long chain clamped to the leg of a cot.

I ran back downstairs. I couldn't believe I'd seen this. Animals such as that can, and do, tear children to shreds. I told the father that the animal had to go or we would remove his kids.

Then there were the likes of Tyrell, a 19-month-old toddler who died in 2003 after being punched repeatedly in the head. Tyrell's mother, Sandra Rowe, 29, lived with John White.

After he died, we discovered that we had dealt with Tyrell before. Even worse: he had been taken off the child protection register six days before he was killed. Social services had seen Tyrell four times in the month before he died. But, as ever, it's not that straightforward.

Until the day of Tyrell's death, all his injuries were below the neck. By law, a social worker cannot lay a hand on a child whom he or she is visiting. So if the child is wearing jumpers and the parents are clever enough to make the right noises, the social worker will tick the box and leave, no doubt running with folders full of case information to catch the bus to the next case meeting, to see the third family that day, to stop by a care home to check on a child, to pick up their own kids from school and whatever else was on their impossible schedule.

Tyrell had died needlessly. The question is: would he still be alive if social services had more resources?

When Tyrell was born, social workers placed Rowe, who was judged to be sufficiently retarded as to be unable to cope on her own, and her son under 24-hour supervision at a foster home. But when she started seeing White, it was taken as a blessing and she was discharged. Six months later, after months of abuse, Tyrell was dead.

White and Rowe were charged with murder, but lack of evidence meant they were prosecuted for child cruelty instead. A post-mortem examination revealed that almost every bone in Tyrell's body had been fractured. His thigh bone had been twisted, he had seven fractured ribs and a broken collarbone, and was covered in bruises. White was sentenced to three years. Rowe, who had an IQ of 50 and a reading age of five, received a two-year supervision and treatment order.

I find it hard to live with the fact that a child can be beaten to death in the presence of its official carers and yet neither of them are either prosecuted for murder, or for the fact that the child died while in their care. New laws have introduced greater culpability in these cases, but the loophole still exists and this case was by no means the exception. Last April, Claire Biggs, from Newham, east London, was found guilty of child cruelty, while her partner, Paul Husband, was successfully prosecuted for neglect. Rhys, Biggs's two-month-old son, died on 8 May 2006 and was found to have 17 broken ribs, a broken shoulder and a fractured arm. As the cause of Rhys's death could not be established, the pair faced only cruelty charges. Biggs was jailed for eight years. Is that justice?


Once again, the attacks went unnoticed by health workers, although they had known that Biggs had another child taken into care in 2001. Yet again, there were missed opportunities, and a breakdown in sharing information. After the Tyrell trial, Hackney council issued a statement: "The area child protection committee is concluding its investigation. Recommendations will be implemented by the respective agencies. Appropriate action will be taken as required if individual failings are identified." But the results of their investigation were never made public.

It is precisely this sort of reaction that increases the public's antagonism towards social workers. I have not read this report, but there is another element here. It may have uncovered good practice by social workers as well. The good work that social services undoubtedly do is rarely revealed. I am all for lambasting incompetency and serious mistakes, but social workers seem to operate in a world without recognition. This is not good for their morale or their profession – and therefore, for children. We need to be transparent. It's the children whom we are supposed to be protecting, after all.

When I joined the child protection team, I thought I had all the answers. I thought, for example, that social workers were the source of many of our problems. But I soon discovered that most social workers are dedicated professionals. Dev, a social worker, told me: "It's one of the toughest jobs in Britain, if not the toughest. Many of us crumble, some more quickly than others. Others resort to defence mechanisms; a sort of survival whereby they 'shut down', numb themselves so they don't 'see' what's in front of them any more. But who watches out for this? Nobody. Nobody but us, and we're all so busy it's every man and woman for him or herself until it hits the fan."

Our social care system needs a massive overhaul: too many social workers have become demoralised. We have paedophiles who have been in trusted positions in society escaping with light sentences time and again. Our child protection system is outdated. There have been at least 70 public inquiries into its tragic failures. Inevitably, Lord Laming's report on the murder of Victoria Climbié repeated many of their recommendations. But the key points remain: lack of communication between agencies that should be working together; lack of training; lack of supervision; unqualified social work staff undertaking complex assessments.

How have we let this come to pass? Why is it that children, the most precious, most vulnerable part of our society, are not provided with a five-star service to protect them when things go wrong? Is it to do with funding? These are real kids dying here, kids in England, in London, the greatest, richest city in the world, dying for the lack of a really effective system, more training and, most importantly, more social workers.

We've been ignoring what is an enormous problem for far too long. We have to accept that a significant proportion of the population abuse thousands of children every day. Until we do so, and until we start changing our attitudes towards troublesome children, we are all guilty of neglect. The good news is that children can recover. It's up to us to get to them quickly enough and to provide them with the right kind of intervention.

"Baby X", Det Sgt Harry Keeble's account of his years working for the Hackney child protection team until 2006, is published this week. Keeble is a pseudonym adopted at the insistence of the Metropolitan Police.

You can also read the article here

Criticsm is The Longest Path To Change

I found this beautiful story by chance from this website and would like to share it with you. It just goes to show that the best way to persuade anyone to change is by being kind, understanding and generous. Many prophets and sages have led the way to change via this path..but we still have not learned. We are too impatient and have been conditioned to expect instant gratification..instant change..instant response. How sad, because even nature has shown us how the softness of water can dent rocks..The story goes like this:

There was a very rich man, who was also very miserly. His only joy was in the accumulation of money. Somehow, he had managed to marry a beautiful wife, who was also very generous and kind hearted. As you might expect the miser was deeply unpopular, but, everyone liked and admired his self giving wife. However, she thought. “Since, he is my husband and no one else likes him, what can I do? I, at least, must be kind to him and offer him my support. Despite, receiving no praise from her miserly husband, she served him night and day.

Then a famine struck the region. The miser gave nothing. But, his wife tirelessly travelled the region offering help and lending people money to buy rice. The people who borrowed money wanted to pay back the wife; but, she refused saying.

“It’s fine, I don’t need the money. Please keep it.”

But, the people refused saying ‘no we really want to give it back, when we can.’

So she said something quite surprising. “If you really want to repay me, then give me the money the day my husband dies.”

People were quite surprised at this statement and one of her sons happened to overhear her. He was perturbed by his Mother’s strange statement and so went to his father to report what he had heard.

The father could not believe it. Why was his dear wife asking the money to be repaid only when he passed away? Thus the miser challenged his wife, asking why she had asked the money to be returned on his death.

She said, “You don’t understand. You see, people don’t like you. They hate you. Everybody wants you to die today, but many people have taken lots of money from me, and by nature people don’t want to pay it back. From now on, instead of thinking of your death, they will pray to God to keep you alive so that they don’t have to pay it back. I want you to live for many, many years. Who knows? One day you may also become very affectionate, kindhearted and sympathetic.
“I played a trick. I want them to pray to God every day that you live. This will make me happy. Who cares for the money? I want you to live for a very long time.” The husband was extremely touched by his wife’s wisdom and love for him and he vowed to be more compassionate toward others.
What Can We Learn from This Story?

It is easy to like kind, generous and self giving people. But, it is not so easy to like and be kind to a miser. But, the wife’s devotion, love and selflessness slowly started to make an impression on her husband. Even her miserly husband felt obliged to lead a better life. This shows that if we really wish to change people, it is through constant self giving and not constant criticism.

Spanish Lesson - Is The Computer Male or Female?

I am faced with another lazy day...so I am going to post something I received in my email..from a dear friend



A Spanish Teacher was explaining to her class that in Spanish, unlike
English, nouns are designated as either masculine or feminine.

'House' for instance, is feminine: 'la casa.'
'Pencil,' however, is masculine: 'el lapiz.'

A student asked, 'What gender is 'computer'?'

Instead of giving the answer, the teacher split the class into two groups,
male and female, and asked them to decide for themselves whether computer'
should be a masculine or a feminine noun. Each group was asked to give
four reasons for its recommendation.

The men's group decided that 'computer' should definitely be of the
feminine gender ('la computadora'), because:

1 No one but their creator understands their internal logic ;

2. The native language they use to communicate with other computers is
incomprehensible to everyone else;

3. Even the smallest mistakes are stored in long term memory for possible
later retrieval; and

4. As soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half
your paycheck on accessories for it.

(THIS GETS BETTER!)

The women's group, however, concluded that computers should be Masculine
('el computador') , because:

1. In order to do anything with them, you have to turn them on;

2. They have a lot of data but still can't think for themselves;

3. They are supposed to help you solve problems, but half the time they ARE
the problem; and

4. As soon as you commit to one, you realize that if you had waited a
little longer, you could have got a better model.

The women won.

BUT OF COURSE!!

More Yasmin Ahmad and Muallaf

I made arrangements for the children to be picked up by their sibling so that I can go and watch this movie. God I miss Yasmin Ahmad. Her signature opening of In the name Of Allah the Most Gracious the Most Merciful also in Chinese opened the floodgates of my emotion. Tears just poured out and I was sniffling throughout the movie. I never knew her personally but I feel a certain connection with her one way or the other. I cannot imagine why this story was banned in the first place in Malaysia and why some dialogue was muted..all in all it was really great, and I seriously thing that all Malaysians should watch this.

Here is the trailer


Here is Yasmin's synopsis, which I picked from her blog..(God I miss her so much..I know I am saying it again)
20-year old Rohani and her 14-year old sister Rohana are two Malay girls on the run from their wealthy, abusive father.

Finding refuge in a smaller town, their secret little world collides
with that of Robert Ng, a 30-year old Catholic school teacher.

The young man finds himself irresistibly drawn towards the sisters, and the extraordinary courage with which they face adversity, in a relationship that inevitably forces Robert to confront a haunting memory of his own troubled childhood.

In this story of lost souls who find comfort in each other, friendship opens the window to forgiveness and a reconciliation with the past.

If you watch this video, and its ensuing series, you will also know that it also contains snippets of her life story :) My children can also relate to some of the scenes. Yasmin, you are such a beautiful person and you are so sorely missed.


If you can't watch the above video, click on this youtube link

Yasmin Ahmad, Tale n Time and I GO by Aizat

Tale N Time, wasn't Allahyarham Yasmin Ahmad's best, but was definitely much much better than any other local movies of the same genre. It made me laugh, it made me cry it left me speechless and left me with a warm glow from within that there is still hope of unity for this beloved country of ours. And this song tied it all up like a beautiful ribbon on a departing gift, Yasmin left for us. It is going to be difficult to find a replacement as noble as her...

Thank you for loving- Notes from The Universe

I received this in my email today, from "The Universe"
It lit up my day
Thanks, Shakirah, for every single time you ever fell in love.

Whether or not it was obvious. Whether or not it lasted. And whether or not you were loved back.

It changed everything.

You changer,
The Universe

Isn't that wonderful..love, even if you are not loved back :)

Everything is A Miracle

Einstein once said : God does not play dice with the universe.
He also said: You must believe that either every thing is a miracle or nothing is a miracle.
I certainly choose to believe the latter..it is a lot more fun, and what better way to live this life on earth :).

As a child, I used to love reading fairy tales. I love magic/ miracles. I used to wake up in the middle of the night to see if there were fairies playing in the garden. And I would rejoice to see toadstools in the morning after a rainy night, believing that fairies must have had a party in my garden the night before, leaving behind their tables and chairs as a reminder that they do exist.

In spite of being my age now, I still do believe in fairies. But my idea of miracles is a little different now. More subtle..I feel that it is a miracle when I see a certain theme surfacing before me again and again, as if to tell me this is the area in my life that I have to pay attention to. This is what I meant by a curriculum cut out for me in my previous post. The most current theme that has been surfacing of late is the role of prayer in the Concept of Law of Attraction. It has been popping up everywhere, in my e-mails, in youtubes sent to me, in books that i read..everywhere. I realise that I have been taught to pray or supplicate in the atmosphere of lack and sadness, but the prayer that is most blessed are those offered in the spirit of gratitude and joy. Being thankful opens up doors to abundance in every aspect. It completely distracts you from things that you lack, and immediately you realise how fortunate you are.

So if you claim that you believe that God is All knowing, the Omiscient..be thankful for everything. He knows, so He will not always give you what you want, but because He loves you, He will always give you only what you need.

I wonder if you experience the same kind of phenomena as I do. Perhaps if you pay attention just a little bit more, you will be able to discern those special signs..try it.

THE FOUR AGREEMENTS

There was a time when i used to think that I have no control over my life. No control whatsoever. I have no ability to change anything that happens to me or to my children. I sit helplessly and prayed with a sense of helplessness not entirely believing that my life would be any better.


I think that was what that happened to me. In the end when we surrender, God points us in the right direction. For Muslims, the Quran and hadith form the broad guidelines, which we measure the other references that fall into our laps against. Little by little..the right people, the right books the right connections came forth in a very structured manner as if it is a curriculum in the faculty of life cut out especially for me.

One of those books that practically jumped out at me when I was browsing through shelves at Borders was The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz. At the time, I didn't have much, I was feeling small and thought that people were treating me like trash, because I am a single mother with all the material limitations in world where ownership of material things determine where you stand in people's eyes.

This is going to be an oversimplified version of what I learned from the book. I am writing on the fly, purely from whatever I have stored in the memory of my grey matter, so please bear with me.

The first thing I learned from this book was that life is nothing but a dream, a concept affirmed by the Quran. And I thought , if this life is a dream, then I can change it...now that gave me hope.

The next lesson I learned from it was that we have an agreement with ourselves. The prophet PBUH said we were born as pure white cloths..but I shall add that our conditioning form the agreements that we made with ourselves about ourselves. What our parents tell us when we were young, what the people around us tell us as we were growing up, all form perceptions and filters which shape us, for example we may grow up believing we are stupid, or ugly, or super smart. These are the agreements made with ourselves with words that were used in communication with ourselves. To be able to change our dreams, we need to break these agreements..to break it we have to change the way we talk to ourselves.

Next, I learned that what we experience is a mirror of our own selves. We have a filter system which filters everything that we see in our lives, something Don Miguel Ruiz call the virus..a little like the virus in a computer system.So I was putting up a filter of lack and as a result, what that was reflected back to me was also lack. Knowing this, I can start learning about the true nature of myself and proceed to learn the true nature of my children. I also learned to stop judging and blaming other people. And whenever I experienced lack or frustration or whenever someone treats me in a way which I do not like, I paused and look within myself to see what is it that these people are mirroring. Then I try to make a shift, by taking full responsibility of my experiences, something which is not easy but made a little simpler when I decided to take full responsibility for everything that I experience.

Finally I learned that I can only do my best, and sometimes my best may not be good enough for others but it doesn't matter, what matters is it is my Best.

The four agreements are :
1 Be Impeccable with Your Word
2 Don't Take Anything Personally
3 Don’t Make Assumptions
4 Always Do Your Best

This video will make it so much clearer for you. I found a doorway to peace through Don Miguel Ruiz's teachings..who knows, you might too.

Reach for That Peaceful Feeling

In the wake of the 'religous' mayhem that is beginning to materialise in my beloved country..I would like to share this video with you. I have been very upset about everything that is going on..the argument about the use of "Allah" by non muslims and the attack on churches, that I grope around for what I can do to return harmony to my world. I realise peace begins with me. It begins with you..

Every human being on the planet is linked to a magnetic field..not all of us realise it. Science has shown that The human heart is now documented as the strongest generator of magnetic and electrical field in the body...5000 times stronger magnetically than the brain.

You just need to watch this and understand this..and reach for that compassionate, loving feeling for the benefit of our world.

Warrior of The Light- Paulo Coelho

Picture by Randall Hyman









He is my favourite author, and I follow his Warrior of The Light newsletter like a shadow. I think he is successful because each and everyone of his reader can find themselves in his stories..I find myself in each and everyone of them that I have read..and those subtle hidden messages are just simply magical

This is his latest post which you can also find here and I would like to share it with you.


READ MY FRIENDS AND ADORN THE PLATE OF FAITH


The Warrior of Light is always trying to improve.

Each blow of his sword carries with it centuries of wisdom and meditation. Each blow has to have the force and the skill of all the warriors of the past, who still continue to bless the combat. Each movement of the fight honors the movements that previous generations have tried to transmit through tradition.

The Warrior of Light enhances the beauty of his blows. Although he behaves like a child.

People are shocked, because they forget that children need to enjoy themselves, play, be a little irreverent, ask inconvenient and immature questions, say silly things.

And they ask, horrified: "And this is the spiritual path? He isn’t even mature!”

The warrior feels proud at that comment. He keeps in contact with God through his innocence and joy, and acts in this way because at the beginning of his fight he affirms to himself:

“I have dreams.”

After some years he realizes that it is possible to reach where he wants to go. He knows that he will be rewarded.

At that moment the great joy that filled his heart disappears. Because on his travels he has discovered the unhappiness of others, the loneliness and frustrations that afflict so many people. The Warrior of Light then feels that he does not deserve what he is to receive.

When he learns to handle his sword, he discovers that his equipment has to be complete – and that includes armor.

He goes out to look for armor and hears what some vendors propose to him.

"Wear the breast-plate of solitude," says one.

"Wear the shield of cynicism," answers another.

"The best armor is not to get involved in anything," suggests a third.

The warrior, however, does not listen to them. He goes serenely to his sacred place and dons the indestructible cloak of faith.

Faith softens all blows. Faith changes poison into crystal-clear water.

His angel whispers to him: "Yield everything." The warrior kneels down and offers his victories to God.

This deliverance obliges the warrior to stop asking silly questions and helps him to overcome his feeling of guilt.

And if, even so, he still feels unworthy of his reward, a Warrior of Light always has a second chance in life.

Like all other men and women, he was not born knowing how to handle his sword. He makes many a mistake before discovering his Personal Legend.

No man or woman can sit down in front of the fire and tell the others: "I have always acted properly." Those who claim this are lying and have not yet learned to know themselves. The true Warrior of Light has already committed injustice in the past.

But during his journeys he realizes that the people to whom he has acted unjustly always cross his path again.

That is why the Warrior of Light has the impression of living two lives at the same time. In one of them he is obliged to do everything that he does not want to do, fighting for ideas that he does not believe in. But there is another life, one that he discovers in his dreams, readings, and meeting people who think like he does.

The warrior lets both lives draw close to one another.

"There is a bridge that connects what I do with what I would like to do," he thinks. Little by little his dreams take over his routine, until he realizes that he is ready for what he has always wanted.

So, a little bit of daring is enough to transform the two lives into just one.

This is his chance to undo the bad that he caused. A chance that he always seizes without any hesitation.

Have Fun and Play Your Part

I am about to miss my post today
here goes..something i received from the mail

As long as you are in the world playing a part in this big drama, use the makeup and costumes, but don't get caught in your part. Have fun and play that part until the curtain falls.

Many people finish their part even in the midst of the drama. Once their part is over, they make their exit. Then they don't come back to the stage again. On the world's stage, many of us finish our job and leave, but the drama continues. Maybe the hero, the heroine and the villain will continue throughout, and be the last people to leave the stage. In the meantime, many extras come and go. We are probably all extras. Remembering this will help to keep the ego a little bit soft.

Your Biography Becomes Your Biology - Snippets from Wayne Dyer's Book

I really don't know what to write. So I am going to place some stuff I read from Dr Wayne Dyer's book, Manifest Your Destiny. These stuff I am going to quote, is like a hammer banged smack on my nose..So here goes:

The inclination to bond to our wounds rather than move past them traps us in a constant state of feeling unworthy. A person who has experienced traumatic events in life, such as sexual abuse, the death of loved ones, traumatic illnesses, accidents, family disruption, drug addictions and the like can become bonded with the past painful events and replay them for attention or pity

When we examine the biology of an individual, we find that his or her biography is close to the surface. Thoughts of anguish, self pity, fear, hate and the like all take their toll on the body and the spirit. Largely the body is unable to heal largely because of this thought.

The moment anyone stands up to you, or crosses you, or even disagrees with you, the injury is brought forth with accusations of insensitivity concerning other's treatment of you.This power is empty, however, because it continuously reinforces the idea that you are not worthy of being free from these events, The unworthiness then inhibits you from attracting to yourself the love, kindness and abundance that is the universe

One must be very careful to avoid explaining present life in terms of traumatic history

The best quote is: The painful events in our lives are like a raft you use to cross the river, you must remember to get off on the other side


I have been guilty of this crime..what a wonderful reminder...pain of the past, I bid you farewell..may you be happy in the seat of the past.

I WOULDN'T CHOOSE ANY OTHER LIFE

This miracle, this life that was once only a lonely lump of blood in my womb, which evolved into a beating heart and finally into this amazing creature who walked with pride and courage to step into his primary school grounds for the first time today, gave me a new awareness about my purpose in life.

Seeing his brother taking him under his wing while he was introduced to all the pertinent 'landmarks' of their first alma matter "St John's (1) Primary School' can only be described as heartwarming, but in truth is much more than that. It gave me not so much a sense of accomplishment, but affirmed the truth of the Law of Attraction in my life..of the Tao in action, of God's all pervading love and existence. This is what I have been journeying towards. This is what I have attracted. The wonderful sense that I pro created another life, another opportunity for the success of human evolution ..is a sense of completion for me.

The joy reflected on all his sibblings' faces when they saw him so smartly dressed in his first school uniform told me that, perhaps, I have done something right and the future is certainly brighter than ever for each and everyone of them. That by being here with them, taking responsibility, I have forged the love and bond among the brothers and sisters that will carry on way beyond my time on this earth. I know that when I am gone, they will look out for one another.

Seeing and hearing him stand in assembly for the first time, singing the National Anthem, the State Song and his school song just brought tears to my eyes..Muaz Az Zuhaily..the child who while in my womb, was one of the main reasons why I decided to take the path less trodden.

What is your purpose in life?

Is it to be a CEO of a large corporation, a president or prime minister of a country, to be a well seasoned traveller of this earth..going to places that I can only dream of visiting? May you be blessed and fulfilled by your purpose.

Mine is to be a Mother.

I may never know what it is like to feel the joy of your achievements..Fleetingly I may long to tread on your path..the grass is always greener on the other side.
But you will never understand the completion that i feel in fulfilling my purpose. This is my life, filled with love and joy of seeing and experiencing the love I have poured unto them returned back to me many folds over..engulfing every single nook and cranny of my being and overflowing for me to share again with others. You can never go wrong by loving your children or any creature for that matter..Being a Mother..I wouldn't have it any other way.

The African Song- An Inspirational Story

A photo by Hans Hillewaert


This is a beautiful story I found on a facebook friend's note. It is a story about the healing power of love, of our connection with source, of the nature of our spiritual being. I have resolved many problems using love rather than harsh judgmental punitive measures; and it has been very successful. But a very important note to bear is that the love has to be GENUINE.

I have done too many mistakes singing the wrong song to my children, I still do now, but I am slowly learning to find the song of love that resonate with them. And as I do so, I see them healing slowly but surely as they reach out to fulfill their purpose and full potential. There are still a few people who push my buttons, and I am learning to sing the right song to myself to comfort me and to honour them. This story can also be found at Expressions of Soul.com and was first written by Alan Cohen the author of the best seller The Dragon Doesn’t Live Here Anymore

The story goes like this:

When a woman in a certain African tribe knows she is pregnant, she goes out into the wilderness with a few friends and together they pray and meditate until they hear the song of the child. They recognize that every soul has its own vibration that expresses its unique flavor and purpose. When the women attune to the song, they sing it out loud. Then they return to the tribe and teach it to everyone else. When the child is born, the community gathers and sings the child's song to him or her.

Later, when the child enters education, the village gathers and chants the child's song. When the child passes through the initiation to adulthood, the people again come together and sing. At the time of marriage, the person hears his or her song. Finally, when the soul is about to pass from this world, the family and friends gather at the person's bed, just as they did at their birth, and they sing the person to the next life.

In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them. The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity.

When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another. A friend is someone who knows your song and sings it to you when you have forgotten it. Those who love you are not fooled by mistakes you have made or dark images you hold about yourself. They remember your beauty when you feel ugly; your wholeness when you are broken; your innocence when you feel guilty; and your purpose when you are confused.

You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn't. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. So remember, just keep singing and you'll find your way home.

What Do We Do With Emotions

Some people find emotions silly. I know some who consider emotions as something that need to be obliterated from the Self in order to achieve 'enlightenment'. Some find it silly to love another and to demonstrate those feelings.

I have a different perspective about emotions. I believe that emotion is a gift from the Almighty. I believe that we are human beings because we would like to have these emotive experiences..happiness, love, sadness, depression, anger, joy..to name a few.
Only as human beings with a physical existence can we experience all these. In the spirit form we are in a different realm, where many things such as time, space, the five senses do not exist. As such, I choose to embrace emotions..with joy. Do we have any other choice?..So why not do it with joy and gratitude

Be it sadness or joy, I choose to let them sip through every cell of my being. How bland life would be without them. Without emotion, what would stories that we tell our children and their children be like. Therefore, need I say more..embrace it, love it, enjoy the experience because it is a GIFT.

Remember 'Love' and losing the person you love. Maybe it is your lover, maybe it is your parents, maybe it is a dear friend. Why not for a change, instead of being morose, relish the emotions, feel the way it hugs your chest tightly till you can't breathe and tickle the region of your stomache, making you feel funny and uncomfortable.. you will never experience it if you have not had the privilege of experiencing the most wonderful feeling of all = love..isn't that a gift. Find its source in your body, let it sink in to the core, acknowlege it, and only then it can be washed away into a new delightul sense of acceptance and joy that everything is perfect as it is. This may take months, or years..but it will be liberating, I promise you.

Try it with other emotions such as anger, or frustration, or abandonment.

Emotions are never permanent, they are mere guests that visit you as you travel along this journey called 'Life'. So honour them, and they will honour you back..just as everything is in life...Just as Rumi mentioned in his beautiful ppoem




The Guest House


This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.


~ Rumi ~

2010 - Why resolutions don't work- figured

2010 = the first decade of the new millenium. An advent of a new era symbolised by a bluemoon and an eclipse on its threshold. I choose to look at it as something wonderous..a magnificent dance of the universe.

I have been told since I was old enough to understand that the begining of a new year is the time to make resolutions. Ever since that time, which was probably when I was in primary school, I have made many resolutions and busted, say... 80% of the them. Every single time. But persevere I did..in fact as I grew older and 'wiser' I went out and bought books to help me keep my resolutions. But guess what..i still busted them..to a point that I don't believe, not only in making resolutions, but worse..i didn't believe in myself.

2010 - I still don't believe in resolutions, but I LOVE AND BELIEVE IN MYSELF :). And this has made me a very HAPPY person.

Here is my take on why resolutions don't work and what we need to do is NOT make resolutions..but flow and attract what is already ours, which actually is not really ours (ok now i am confusing you before I even begin). This is the cornerstone of the Law of Attraction so often heard ..but also too highly simplified, more often than not for commercial gains

My take on why resolutions don't work is because:

* The world we live in is not real..it is a hologram. Everything is created in our brain...hence we can mold it with our thoughts

and as such;

* We are not in this world; but this world is in us which goes hand in hand with ==>
we are spiritual beings living temporarily in a physical world.

* in the end, we are energy..

This understanding does NOT negate the existence of God, Allah, Source or whatever that you are conditioned to name it..but affirms His Omnipotence, Omniscience and Omnipresence. It is the only way I can make sense of the all pervading nature of "God"

Holding on to this principles, life flows smoothly. Everything experienced is accepted with gratitude, knowing that it is all for my highest good. What I wish for, or what that permeates my desire, which replaces 'resolutions' is my purpose from God or Source..and in that manner I procreate. And LIFE becomes GOOD.

I attribute my findings first to Harun Yahya's research and writings, particularly through his books THE LITTLE MAN IN THE TOWER and MATTER: THE OTHER NAME FOR ILLUSSION

And then what propelled me further was the Secret by Linda Byrnes and even before that I was already reading Deepak Chopra, Debbie Ford, and later Wayne Dyer, Parahamsa Yogananda, Don Miguel Ruiz.

So now I don't make resolutions..I pro create..and I love my life. Come join me..