Category Archives: Venting & other “bleh” scribbles

I’m Sorry …

… for being so absent lately.

Though it isn’t an excuse, I’ll fall back on that dismal aspect of human nature and attempt to absolve myself of any wrongdoings by providing you with an adequate 3 point resource on how it’s really not my fault.

Point 1 – I’ve been so busy that if I were a Troll protecting the make believe bridge to Narnia I just made up right now, well, Narnia would no longer be Narnia – it would be the next best holiday destination. I have been writing though, about an article a week but woe is me, much of my time is taken up in maintaining active social media accounts for work.

You need a Twitter, Facebook or Google + guru right now, don’t look at me. I’m fresh out of ideas.

Point 2 – I have seriously pissed karma off and I don’t even know what I did. The amount of minor mishaps I have had with my skeleton over the past month would be enough to fill up a small encyclopaedia. Seriously. From toe injuries to wrist massacring’s, it’s a wonder I still resemble a human body. Fine, maybe not an encyclopaedia but a good weekend read in a grubby motel off Highway 5. At least.

Point 3 – I blame Trump because well, why wouldn’t you?

I don’t think history has ever provided us with such an apt “he is the cause of everything that’s wrong in this world, my life and this entire solar system really” excuse, people. Ever.

I am not kidding. It’s every man, woman and child for themselves and I can’t even copyright this one. Take it. Run with it.

I’ve been busy because Trump exists.

With that being said, I make no promises except an absolute true declaration – I have missed all of you. Truly.

I’ll try and make it up for it and write some more, or at least be more present if my fingers remain from that biyatch injury infliction.

I hope you’re listening karma. I’m a Hindu and I ain’t going anywhere so let’s try and be friends, okay? Or at least civil.

See you soon my peeps xoxo

power-of-faith

The Power of Faith

As a writer, I’m ashamed to admit that I rarely allow others a glimpse into my psyche and though I will often joke about my warped brain, the fact is I have always been a thinker.

Some consider this a boon but in all honesty I find that thinking too much is more painful than peaceful and wisdom can sometimes be, well, overrated.

Why?

Because there is a certain type of profound solace in simplicity and when it comes down to it, when I reminisce about knowledge, I picture a calming, peaceful, bright hue.

Not many people know this but some years ago I hurt my back, not exactly in a debilitating way (at least from a scientific perspective) but one that nevertheless paralysed me in living a life full of happiness and positivity through my late teens and into my early twenties.

During the time, I had begun to read a book called Living with the Himalayan Masters by Swami Rama and Autobiography of a Yogi by Sri Paramahansa Yogananda.

Now, I am a Hindu but I have been very fortunate to have been reared by parents who always pressed the importance of spirituality over any religion on my sister and I and for this, I will always be grateful.

So I really do hope that you see that the faith I am talking about is not attached to any particular religion or version of “God” but rather as a testament to the supremacy of faith and belief and Creative Life Force (as Sri Yukteswar Giri defines it) that we all have within us.

I haven’t had back pain for many years now, strongly believing that I had received a miracle of my own after a kind-hearted, gentle swami of my father’s told me with complete assurance that it had been fixed. Viewing it as my own version of a miracle that mirrored an event in the Autobiography of a Yogi, my mind, heart and soul completely believed his words and soon my back pain became a thing of the past.

Late last year however, it returned. I had nagging thoughts on how I couldn’t possibly deal with the pain all over again and how maybe I hadn’t received my miracle. In one short phrase – I had been infected with doubt.

One of the worst possible human emotions and weaknesses that any of us can let creep into our lives – doubt.

My parents have my whole life really, been my very own personal “God” in many ways and even their words of reassurance had little effect on the virus of doubt that was infiltrating my pores.

About two weeks ago I got a CT scan and the results were, to me at least, devastating. The problem had gotten worst according to my radiologist, and my doctor (who can’t read x-rays) made it appear to be even worse than my radiologist’s report.

After days of depression and heart-wrenching panic, I was in pain, plagued with mental and physical agony so I did some soul searching and sifted through my Autobiography of a Yogi copy and just opened random pages to “see the light”.

By utter chance, I landed on an excerpt where a disciple of Sri Yukteswar was beside himself because all the doctors he had seen had declared that he had a maximum of three months to live. The disciple had ran to his guru to beg for help and Sri Yukteswar has laughingly chided him for believing doctors who knew nothing about the Creative Force of all Beings and had proclaimed that he would be healed regardless of what any medical practitioners or experts stated.

The disciple had asked if he should continue with the medication to which his guru had replied – it’s up to you, take them or throw them, they will have no consequence on your health. The disciple got worse and worse by every passing hour but his faith remained steadfast, after all, his Guru had said he would be fine. Just when it looked like he had no hope, the next morning the disciple was completely healed – as if a miracle had just occurred before everyone’s eyes!

Though I am not comparing my situation with the dire one of this disciple, I decided last week, after reading this passage, that I too would have complete faith on my own miracle.

I didn’t care how it would happen, but all I knew is that it would happen – regardless of what anyone said or anything I saw.

Today, I went to my physiotherapist and though I had some trepidation, my faith remained steadfast. My Creative Life Force is unbreakable, undefeatable – omnipresent.

My CT scan had been misread and misdiagnosed by the radiologist; in fact, my back has one of the most beautiful curves (my physio’s words, not mine!).

I have my miracle and it’s one of the most beautiful feelings ever.

I have learnt two lessons from this:

1 – Positive thinking is absolutely the BEST medicine out there and it’s completely free and you don’t need a prescription.

2 – If you believe, I mean, truly believe no matter what, you WILL have your miracle, I promise it!

I know this is a long piece but for those of you who are down and in despair please know you are your very own version of “God” or a superpower. It’s all you, you just have to realise, experience and celebrate it.

Once you embrace the power we all are, you will quickly come to realise that YOU are omnipresent in every way!

The Casual Racist

Know a Casual Racist?

You know who and what I’m talking about.

I think we’ve all probably had the misfortune of coming across one or two (if you’re lucky).
That person who isn’t racist but thinks that adding a smile at the end of a thinly veiled racially motivated comment makes it alright to just chuck one at you anyway.

I have spent the past five weeks traveling across India through Shimla, Delhi and Mumbai, completing my superb trip at Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia. In one word – amazing (sing that while you read it for added emphasis).

I must admit to spending some of my time dispelling stereotypes about the land down-under vehemently because you know, ignorance is never an excuse for sweeping generalisations that can come across as rude because they are, people, they are. Simple as that. No, no matter what ever angle or perspective you look at it.

What I didn’t expect was Pauline Hanson’s vigorously and scarily increasing popularity. As a side bar, what exactly is happening to the world and it’s dangerously increasing xenophobia? It takes two to tango in life for everything and the Trumps, Hanson’s and every other right wing party leader in Europe is where they are because of all of us (those of us who vote for them and those of us who can’t be bothered getting off our arses to put a stop to potential future genocide for the gazillion-th time).

I also managed to meet every racist Aussie I strongly believe exists in my vicinity in the week I got back. I know this is highly unlikely but like everything negative, the numbers seem to exponentially build inconceivably, like something out of a J.K. Rowling novel.
Comments like, “ugh Dehli, way too many people in your country” (adding a smile at the end of that sentence still pisses me off by the way), “must have been sweaty and hot in your country” (that’s rich coming from someone who is currently battling 42 degree Celsius weather), “did you take any photos of elephants and tigers while you were there?” (the next time you take a photo of a kangaroo jumping over the Harbour Bridge in Sydney city, please-let-me-know).

I could go on but why?

Why should I waste my time trying to educate casual racists on not so common etiquette and courtesy? If they haven’t learnt yet, they never will.

Just note please …

Sticking a flag in countries that were never yours and never will be was never and will never be right.

Full stop.

Just like adding a smile to the end of a sentence you may think is manipulatively cloaked but glaringly obvious to the people you have been attempting to “civilise” for centuries is not and will never be acceptable.

This may be offensive to some and I get it.

Because this entire piece has been written with a clear and complete absence of a smile.

For the rest of you who have managed to find this writing somewhat palatable, I’ll be posting pics of my amazing journey soon hopefully. I trust your open-mindedness will allow you to see through the stereotypes and generalisations towards the glorious similarities we all share against the backdrop of exciting cultural nuances.

See you soon xoxo

relaxation-road-trip

It’s that Time of Year Again …

Finally!

The Summer season is around the corner for us Southern Hemisphere people.

Work officially ends in about four weeks and from now till then I will not be venturing into the world of functioning folks due to my monstrous, inhumane work schedule -_-

Which is saying something considering my “functioning” self is a far cry from everyone else’s normal functioning selves. That makes minimal sense. I realise that.

Which is why I have decided to give everyone of you a break. As well as my poor brain so it doesn’t break any further.

Enjoy the festive season with your loved ones my wonderful, awesome-st peeps and tell me all about it when I get back.

In the meantime, I will be taking a road trip (in case none of you got my cryptic featured image there) and will let you know all about it upon my return (that sounded a lot grander than I had first envisioned – like King Arthur type noble).

Any guesses on where I’m going? Let me know and I’ll give you an invisible present if you guess right. Seriously, it’ll be so invisible, you will never be able to find it.

Jusqu’à ce que je reviens, au revoir mes amis! (I love Google Translation).

Writing-Words

Write non-Write Balance

I just watched a video that discredited the whole elusive work-life balance thing we all crave.

It was for work and I got through four minutes of it thinking there’s four minutes of my life I’m never getting back because it really helped me in NO possible way for my actual job. Even after trying to deploy all my imaginative, creative abilities I pride myself on having honed until now.

But whatever – Another story.

What it did mention though is how the whole work-life balance concept is a piece of you know what because when you love something you do, the lines between work and play blur.

Sounds blissfully ignorant if you ask me.

The guy then mentioned how creatives (supposedly people like you and me) don’t believe in the concept of work life balance because we can’t shut off our creative brain no matter how much we try.

I don’t know about you but I can definitely shut my creative part of the brain. In fact, I would suggest that my “creative” part often leaves me lurching in the pitch bleakness of nothingness because it’s decides to go on an impromptu dark orgy with some buddies of it.

Again, another story.

After just having spat out three articles of varying degrees of dullness, today is definitely one of those days I wish I had more write and non-write balance. So to the irritating perky dude who declares work life balance is a façade for us mere folk who would love to be a beached walrus right now, I’d like to politely tell you to shut up.

I’d get more creative with my dismissive attitude but I can’t. My creative side just left me a note that says Do Not Disturb.

Paralympic Cyclist

Why we should be ashamed of ourselves

The Paralympics is fascinating to watch. Truly, it is.

I’m not going to give some shitty reason [like it’s amazing what “disabled” (I hate that word by the way, who gets to choose what “disabled” or “abled” is?) people can do, or isn’t it amazing what that person with less intelligence has been able to do? For the record – shut up] for this.

Why I loved the Paralympics was because for the first time this whole Olympic season, I actually got to witness true sportsman (and woman) ship.

Seriously.

People actually participating with the sports mentality, I saw laughter at losses rather than whingeing, I saw true happiness at being able to partake rather than grumbling at the lack of facilities and how much better the West could have done it, and I saw true competition against a backdrop of humility for those that deserved the better result.

In India, our Paralympians won gold medals while our Olympians continued to complain and whine about how they are mistreated by the government and aren’t provided with the proper facilities.

Shame on all of us “abled” people, I really believe we should hang our heads in embarrassment, to the supposed abled bodied Olympians for not being utterly mortified for their continued inability to see the bigger picture and to the rest of us who couldn’t be bothered watching the Paralympics with an equal amount of vigour to the Olympics and thinking it wasn’t important to complain about the lack of coverage.

To all you abled Paralympians, I am truly sorry on the behalf of our entire disabled majority.