An Eye for an Eye makes the Whole World Blind …

Too bad we still haven’t heeded Mahatma Gandhi’s warning from all those years ago.

The great Father of the Nation (as many of us Indians refer to him as) was most likely not the first to share this sentiment and will no doubt definitely not be the last.

Though I don’t condone what Myuran Sukumaran & Andrew Chan did to get them into jail, I certainly don’t support their enforced demise either. The last time I checked, killing absolutely never, ever solved any problems.

As someone who could see the few pros of the death penalty earlier (I am ashamed to admit) for hard core criminals, the Australian case of Van Tuong Nguyen set me straight causing me to do a complete 180. Why? Because the people who suffer are not the perpetrators but their innocent families and friends who are condemned to a lifetime of desolation and misery that they are definitely not deserving of.

Rest In Peace Myuran Sukumaran & Andrew Chan. All I can hope for is that as a species, we soon learn that ending one another’s lives should definitely not be in our hands, just because we can. #IStandForMercy.

Gazing through the Perspective Window …

I broke my seven day fast today and once my bouncing off the walls in excitement celebratory activities at the thought of being able to consume garlic and onion once again had subsided, I started to reflect once more on why fasting is so important to me on my journey of gratefulness.

People will often question me on the point of fasting and though I used to struggle on the various “religious” reasons for the abstaining of certain foods, I have come to realise that fasting is honestly a very personal struggle. I commenced this fast quite a few years ago at first to be a sympathetic communal faster with my mum, basically so she didn’t feel like she was being punished (as I saw it in my mind at the time) on her own, my own mother beginning her Navratri fasting endeavours when her mum couldn’t keep them one year as she was ill at the opportune event.

I recall inhumane pangs of scrumptious desire for seductively mouth-watering delights during my seven to eight day struggle as being a lot more severe when I started in comparison to my (almost) indifferent attitude now. Don’t get me wrong, I still rush to the fridge on Ashtami to break my fast the way a raging bull gallops towards a vibrant red cloth, my fingers clambering to get a carrot in my mouth before Bugs Bunny could possibly finish his famous rendition of “what’s up Doc?”, but I don’t feel quite as desperate any longer.

The reason for this, I believe, is my newfound enthusiasm for the concept of fasting on an individual level. This has nothing to do with any misguided Eureka cloaked Holy Grail moments or sudden knee jerking spiritual awakenings, but more with my “let’s stop and have a look around” attitude that I somehow just (fortunately) fell into.

It’s so easy for me to take what I have for granted – my latest designer-wear clothes, my 58 inch Plasma TV Set I am joined at the hip to, my gluttonous never ending need to absolutely have those pair of pumps, and all the other unquenchable satanic requirements recklessly pounding against the walls of my cranium. As simplistic as it may sound, nothing makes me comprehend the way it feels to be so close to something and not being able to have it than when I am fasting. When I can smell all the wondrously wafting, teasing aromas that weave their meticulous yet sinister paths up my nasal passages, the way tantalising shades burst their delectable splendour on my partners plates, where heavenly fragrances, tastes and textures are so close I could touch and then devour them instantly … and still so cruelly not being able to consume them.

My mother used to often recite the worn out slogan of “do you know how lucky you are to be able to eat? Do you understand that there are so many starving children out there who dream to get what you have on your plate at this very moment?” every single time I complained about what was put in front of me. Until I started fasting, I just thought it was just another one of those pesky “learn as you live, words of wisdom” moments my parents were so bent on imparting with me until I realised how true it was.

I see so many around me that are so devastatingly less fortunate and fasting twice a year reminds me of those individuals perpetually. For a few hours, I can at least sympathise (clearly not understand) but empathise with them and the turmoil they must be going through about being so close to living the way everyone’s birth right should allow for and being so cruelly locked out.

So this morning, as I broke my fast and felt my mind shamelessly flirting with the devilry vegetables encompass I once again remembered how fortunate I am to be able to put my finger on something and get it. It makes me all that more grateful for the gifts I have and to remember not to so easily dismiss those around me who eye me with what people often mistake for envious disdain but to actually see beyond our glazed looking glass of perspectives.

Wishing everyone a Happy Ashtami come Ram Naumi and may each and every one of us be blessed with all the wonders the Universe has to offer, sprinkled with just the right amount of genuine compassion and understanding 🙂

100 down and still going strong …

Apparently I hit the 100th Blog Post mark yesterday and I hadn’t even noticed!

It was one of those contented surprise moments because though I hadn’t planned it, I couldn’t have picked a better topic to write about than the one I mysteriously coincidentally had. After the initial rush had subsided however, I then proceeded to think about how on earth I had even had enough ideas to write 100 random facts about.

Firstly, my sincere apologies because “vivisection” on your very valued brains is a severe understatement when I look back through some of the posts I have published along the way and secondly, it would seem that my ability to ramble has struck my keyboard as well 😀

Here’s to hoping that you stick it out with me, I promise to at least try and entertain you along the way!

Image taken from Photobucket

Personal Trainers are Satan’s minions

I told my personal trainer friend that “her people” (by this I mean Satan’s minions) were wrong when they said exercise was good for my body. I mean, the age-old adage of everything in moderation had to be true for all of life’s twists and turns otherwise my whole perspective on the world would have to be blown to smithereens right there and then.

My friend told me to elaborate and though I was acutely aware of walking smack bang into the middle of a mine field, apparently endorphins do shite for your brain cells which is extremely lethal for someone with my um well, limited brain capacity – but enough about me.

I told her that I was feeling pain in body parts that I was pretty sure didn’t exist in the species I have been led to believe I belong to since I popped out of my mother’s womb and how I was going to write to my local council and state that anyone who exercises a fellow human being to start “feeling” these body parts should be extradited (to hell presumably) immediately.

Now I know what you’re thinking, how dumb am I? For your kind information, my friend’s smirk did set warning bells clambering up my spine and though I did attempt to run in the opposite direction, the dumbbells she had attached to my ankles blocked my noble retreat and she politely asked (with a skipping rope in her hand that she had sinisterly changed into a makeshift whip that would put Spartacus to shame) that I drop and give her twenty.

Suffice to say I escaped with my life just to recount this story to you for witness purposes on the event of my untimely death. Got to go, she’s back …

Dear Australians …

What ever happened to the good ol’ Aussie Battler’s motto of giving everyone a fair go?

When did we stop looking in our own backyard before we started pointing the finger?

Why is it that everyone around me wants to talk about the latest celebrity nude picture/sex tape leaks and chooses to overlook discussing the disgusting, vile death of a young boy of 24 who passed away in filthy conditions from an ailment that was easily treatable while residing in what the Australian Government promises us are humane conditions in our detention centres?

When will we start holding the government you and I chose to ransom for the decisions they make on our behalf and do we really want to be known as a first world country that does this to people who choose to come to the lucky country?

It’s easy to sit here and judge everyone else, the Syrians, the Russians, the Afghanis … the rest of the World, but how are we going to answer future Australians about how we let a young person slip into a coma on his way to the hospital from a cut in his leg that turned septic in 2014?

Or will we just bury all of this as far as we can, only to use the words “Well we’re not the ones who did it” in case it is discovered in 100 years or so? Doesn’t this argument sound familiar, reminiscent of our apology as a nation to our very own dwindling indigenous population?

I’m not here to advocate or not advocate for the Boat people, but I am asking all of us to raise our voice for humanity. Raise your voice today and tell the Government that they aren’t speaking for you.

I’m thinking of channelling the New Zealand All Blacks to scare my boss (my alter ego) from making me work over the weekend by doing the Haka. Here’s hoping it works! 😀