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There is a simple but fundamental difference between hunger and appetite. The first is a physical need to eat, and the second is a sense of wanting to eat. In the majority of cases, appetite does not come as a result of the feeling of hunger, but because of the secretion of the appetite hormone ghrelin, which may be easily stimulated by only thinking about delicious foods or what we call sometimes comfort foods. Thus, we advise you to have these foods to decrease your appetite. *Apples: Pectin found in apples contributes to preventing the rising of blood sugar and as a result the desire for eating will be decreased. Their effect lasts in the body between one and two …Read More »
The secrets behind green tea and losing weight
There is no doubt that green tea has a lot of healthy benefits, but did you know that it can help you to lose more weight as well? Let me explain more, green tea is rich with ingredients that have incredible effect in losing weight. Let's start with talking about the first secret which is caffeine; green tea contains a good amount of caffeine that helps in losing weight especially if you are doing exercises. The second secret that I will tell you about is the EGCG (epigallocatechin gallate), it's a substance that is found in green tea and guess what? It stimulates your metabolism rates which will help your body to burn more fats. Interested to know more secrets? …Read More »
Apple Cider Vinegar, Does It Really Help in Losing Weight?
The answer is yes, it can help, but it won't give you the results you look for in short time. If you entirely depend on AVC (apple cider vinegar) you will start to see the results in couple of months, so you need to be so patient. I know this maybe not the answer that you want to hear, but trust me you need to add AVC to your daily food for so many reasons besides losing weight. Studies showed that drinking AVC impacts your health in so many good ways; it can improve your heart health, energy, skin, digestion, etc. Told you it's good after all and it still can help you lose more weight for many reasons. For …Read More »
Tips for losing weight by reducing calories
There are many kinds of diets in the world that you could follow to lose weight. One of the most effective diets is reducing calories to lose weight. If you are planning to lose weight by calculating the daily calorie intake and reduce it; here are some surprising facts and tips that you should know at the beginning. – Do not set a certain number of calories that are assigned by some diets, like for example, reducing 500 calories to lose three kilos in a month. Every body reacts in a different way to diets. Therefore, you should choose a fixed number that is convenient and comfortable for you on the long term. – If you are one of the …Read More »
Advices for losing weight without hunger
Weight loss may be a big challenge for you, especially in the recent times when there are many things that prevent you from moving a lot and exercising. Also, sometimes you are driven to lessen your intake of calories rate, which makes you feel hungry. This feeling of hunger is not an easy feeling and will not support you in losing weight. Thus, try to follow these steps that will help you lose weight without suffering from hunger. *Support your diet system with protein: Perhaps the main reason for eating eggs at breakfast and lunch is that they are rich in proteins and they can make you feel full quickly and for a long time. *Support your system with dietary …Read More »
8 Strange and incredible tricks for losing weight
We all hope to lose weight but we are worried about the amount of effort that we should do to lose weight. If you really know what you are doing, then it would be easy for you to lose weight. However, there are some easy methods for losing weight without any effort. Read all about them here in this article. – First, we should do exercises regularly in order to lose weight. Just adding a workout routine will help you to lose weight. – Sleeping naked is an easy and odd way for losing weight. When you sleep naked your body will begin to burn lots of fat to warm you up. – Eat a balanced healthy food that includes …Read More »
Some diet foods for losing weight easily
Gaining weight is connected with your diet system and the foods that you eat. There are some foods that increase weight and cause accumulation of fat. On the other hand, there are plenty of foods that help you burn fat and don't make you gain weight. Here are some examples of these foods. – Salad: A dish of salad has very few calories and does not cause an increase in weight. – Lemon: It is considered a food and a drink at the same time. It is rich in vitamins and does not contain a significant amount of calories. – Apple: It is very a vital element for getting quick weight-loss results. Therefore, it is necessary to include apples in …Read More »
The most important tips for losing weight properly
The best way to lose weight is by balancing the amount of calories consumed and the burnt calories during the day. You can do so by following a proper diet and having proper physical activity. Effective weight loss that will last over the long term is done by making changes to your lifestyle in general. – Make sure to eat breakfast daily at a fixed time. Several studies have found that having breakfast regularly contributes to weight loss and increasing metabolic rates. – Divide your daily meals to nearly five to six meals to include at least three main meals and three snacks. – Avoid fatty foods that are high in fat, such as fast foods and fries, and try …Read More »
7 Amazing kitchen hacks for losing weight
Your kitchen is the place where everything can go wrong in your battle to lose weight. You must modify your kitchen to aid you in this battle, or not let you lose it at least. You should do some arrangements. following these kitchen hacks will help you a lot: – Try to put the healthy food within your reach in the refrigerator. You may prepare fruit and vegetables and keep them in a near place to reach them easily. – Replace butter with apple sauce and it will do the same function butter does when preparing cookies and cakes. Apple sauce has no fat and it will make your cake delicious as well. – A great way for suppressing your …Read More »
7 Amazing eating secrets for losing weight
Losing weight is not so complicated as most of us think. However, the problem lies in the fact that people do not realize that weight gain is a problem in your lifestyle. You should only add some tweaks and some arrangements to your daily routine for eating. Just by making a few changes in your lifestyle, you will be able to achieve your dreams for losing weight. Here are the steps that you should follow. – It's advisable to plan the menu for the week in advance. Also, try to buy the groceries you need for a week ahead. If you did so, you will not be obliged sometimes to have fast foods and you won't yield to the temptation …Read More »
Facts Nobody Told You About Losing Weight
You thought when you drop those 50 pounds everything in your life will just change to the better over night, you will be better at your job and your love life will be like brand new! All of us thought so, however there are many aspects of your life losing weight wont fix including:- 1- losing Weight Wont Fix All your Problems. Yes setting a goal and working towards reaching it feels incredible, however losing weight wont open the gate of heaven for you, you shouldn't be trying to lose weight to fix problems with your spouse, your job or with yourself, you should be aiming to lose weight to live longer, healthier a s be more satisfied with yourself. …Read More »
Great Tips for Losing Weight at Work
Most people gain weight when they don't pay enough attention to their eating habits a lifestyle. That, happens when you pay too much attention to your work at the expense of your lifestyle. However, you can make work, the thing that is making you fat, the same tool for losing weight with the following tips: 1- Drink lots of water. Many people misinterpret thirst for hunger, because they somehow developed the habit of neglecting their H2O needs. As a result, their bodies try to find this much needed water in food. Drinking enough water at work will make you snack less on fattening foods. 2- Give up carbonated beverages. Recent studies have proved that regular consumption of carbonated beverages is …Read More »
The 4 Most Difficult Psychological Obstacles That Prevent You from Losing Weight
Losing weight is not just about consuming lesser calories and exercising more, or it would not have been one of the things that bother women most in this day and age. Many things contribute to the process of losing weight and some of them are psychological. Here we shall discuss 4 of the psychological obstacles that prevent you from losing weight. 1- You are making others a criteria for success in losing weight. You sometimes wonder why others lose about 15 kg in a month and try to see what they do and imitate them. As we said before, a lot of factors contribute to weight loss and what works for them might not work for you. 2- You are …Read More »
6 Foods that facilitate losing weight
The amount of food is not responsible for gaining weight. It is the kind of food which makes you became fatter. In this article there are some kinds of food which do not contain many calories. These foods will help you to get full. These foods don't contain many calories so your ability to burn fats will increase and became more effective. 1- One of these super foods is oats. Having oatmeal in breakfast is common for lots of people. Having a dish of oatmeal at breakfast makes you less hungry for food throughout the whole day. 2- Spices also help to burn more calories. They support your digestion system, so you burn fat easily. Some of these spices are …Read More »
Five Reasons Why You May Not Be Losing Weight
You are working really hard to lose weight, but for some reason no matter how many calories you cut back on or how many times you hit the gym and how hard you really work it seems like you are not losing weight at the rate you should, there are many reasons why you may not be losing weight and on this article we will inform you of the five most common reasons for not losing weight despite the hard tries, so read on. 1- Lake Of Sleep. Although sleeping seems to be such an effortless enjoyable thing to do, you just get in your bed, get comfortable and shift to dreamland, however enough sleep is the key for all …Read More »
Seven Natural Juices For Losing Weight
Losing weight is hard but not impossible, by maintaining a healthy balance between a nutritious diet and reasonable exercising regime you will be able to achieve your desired body shape and feel healthier than ever, eating vegetables and fruits is very much recommended while losing weight, they are healthy options, low in calories and fats but rich with nutrients, however some people may get a bit lazy to keep on chewing on the raw fruits and vegetables, in this case having them as juices will be the ideal alternative, you can get all the nutrients your body need while hydrating your body and not having to chew on fruits or vegetables, below we will list to you seven juices that …Read More »
How Green Tea Helps You Losing Weight
Green tea is one of the best friends for anyone out there looking to lose weight, it simply provide a wonderful aid while refreshing your body, mind and soul, there are many suggestions out there to help you shed pounds faster, however drinking green tea regularly is one of the most guaranteed ways to provide help, green tea makes losing weight seems like an effortless and timeless process, let us take a look below why drinking green tea should help you lose weight easy and fast. Green Tea Helps You Burn More Calories Than Normal. One of the ways green tea helps you lose weight easy and fast is by boosting your body's metabolic rate due to its high content …Read More »
The Eight Most Effective Teas For Losing Weight
People have been drinking teas for thousands of years for its healing and calming properties , among the many health benefits of teas is boosting the metabolic process in your body which help you burn fat and curb your appetite , some teas have a stronger effect than others and on this article we will list to you The Eight Most Effective Teas For Losing Weight . 8- Hibiscus. These lovely tasty flowers are packed with nutrients , minerals and flavonoids , hibiscus is effective in weight loss due to its amylase content that reduce the fat and carbohydrates absorption by breaking them down , Hibiscus tea is also effective for lowering blood pressure and its high antioxidants content will …Read More »
Ten Lies You've Been Told About Losing Weight
Losing weight is the target of a lot of people , most of us want to get an ideal body and keep things that way ,and because losing weight is not an easy thing and it require effort and sacrifice, we sometimes get desperate which make us give our ears easily to any myths and believe them which can make losing weight much more complicated than it should be , Here are Ten Lies You've Been Told About Losing Weight . 9- Calories Differ . Calories is a way to measure energy , but our bodies process different types of food a different way , calories from protein is better for losing weight than calories from sugar or carbohydrates , …Read More »
7 Effective Ways To Tighten Flappy Skin After Losing Weight
How do you solve the problem of flappy loose skin after pregnancy or massive weight loss ? If you are wondering how to tighten your skin after reaching your ideal weight to fit in your cloth and look gorgeously in shape then you will find this article of great benefit . We will teach you about 7 effective ways to tighten your loose skin after losing weight. 7- Use Skin Firming Creams . Skin firming creams is an effective way to tighten your loose skin , they give best results if used during the diet or pregnancy , consider creams that are rich with vitamin E, A and C which are needed for the production of collagen that help the …Read More »


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List of Best Teacher Training Institutes Niralanagar Lucknow, Teacher Training Centers Niralanagar Lucknow, Teacher Course Training classes Niralanagar Lucknow, Teacher Cocaching Classes Training Niralanagar Lucknow, Teacher Placement Training Niralanagar Lucknow with address, Phone numbers, course fee, student reviews and training course learning at Niralanagar area in Lucknow City. As of May 26, 2018, We have total of 1 Teacher Training training institutes in and around also near to Niralanagar in Lucknow.
We gathered most widely used Teacher Training course content used by training institutes in niralanagar,lucknow. The Teacher Training course syllabus covers basic to advanced level and it may vary based on Teacher Training training classes offered in niralanagar.

subset: commoncrawl


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Junior Coaching Positions for season 2018
Junior Coaching Positions for season 2018
The Spotswood Football Club (affiliated with the Western Region Football League) is seeking coaching applications from motivated, dedicated people who are keen to be part of our successful, well-respected club.
We are looking for coaches who have a desire to develop and nurture the football skills and sportsmanship of our great young players, through the following Age groups under 9's, under 10's, under 13's, under 15's and 17B boys with the club committed to playing in as many age groups as possible in season 2018.
The Spotswood Football Club is excited to offer a pathway for its coaches to progress through the junior ranks into the clubs senior teams, and will endeavour to provide up to date training and mentoring to help our coaches achieve the highest level of coaching.
Level 1 accreditation is preferred; along with a working with children, if not currently held the Club will cover the full cost of obtaining qualification by any successful applicants.
Applications should be in writing and require the following:
– Playing experience
– Coaching experience and referees
– Coaching Qualifications
– Relevant other experience
– Your approach to junior football
Further details about our club can be found at our website: www.spotswoodfc.com.au


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[Nature of growth]
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Falling leafs cluttering the street traveled so often but never really seen.
I feel like things in my life that I have nurtured and created as part of me and as part of my life are changing and falling all around me littering the path I walk to just disappear as if never even existing. Standing bear and alone now I am forced to create new beginnings that too in time will change with the seasons of life.
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Reality Show for Major Network Casting a Real Life "Brady Bunch" Nationwide
Try out for "The Bachelor" 2018 / 2019 Season – Open Calls Nationwide
Major Network Show Casting Home Show Unique Renovators Nationwide
New Tattoo Show "Ink Therapy" Casting People Needing Tattoos in L.A.
Singer Auditions in Houston Texas for New Girl Group
Casting People Who Want To Surprise Their Disney Loving Friend With A "Magical" Day Experience in Orlando
Kids Auditions for Acting / Modeling Agency in NY & NJ
Theater Auditions in MA for "I Want to be a Musketeer"
Need Help With a House Flip? HGTV Casting Flip My Flop Nationwide
2018 Auditions for L.A. Clippers Spirit Dance Team in Los Angeles
Casting Close Mom's & Daughters for New Show
Nationwide Casting Call for Season 2 of Lifetime's American Beauty Star
Auditions in Vancouver Canada for Live Show "Jersey Boys"
OWN's "Queen Sugar" Season 3 Cast Call for Extras Roles in NOLA
Stephen King's "Mr. Mercedes" Casting Extras in Charleston, SC
Casting Call for Extras, Kids & Adults in LA for Viola Davis Movie "Troupe Zero"
Extras Cast Call in NYC for "The Deuce"
Survivor is now casting for the 2018 and 2019 Seasons
Audition for NBC's The Voice 2018 / 2019
Musician Open Call in Chicago & Nashville for Carnival Cruises
Atlanta Cast Call for New Dating Reality Show
Marvel's "The Gifted" Casting for Season 2 in Georgia
Casting Call for Amazon Show "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel" in NY
Open Dancer Auditions in Las Vegas & Los Angeles for Holiday Show at the Wynn Las Vegas
Casting in Missouri, Kansas, Illinois, Nebraska, Iowa, Wisconsin for New Reality Show
Auditions in Utah for Student Movie "The Clover Club Truck"
Auditions in The Bay Area for Indian Actress for Paid Role in "What Lies West"
Cruise Line Dancer Auditions Coming To Salt Lake City Utah
TV Commercial Auditions in Singapore for Chinese Family Roles
Casting Ladies Who Have Been To Jail for Docuseries / Reality Show
Open Auditions in DC for "So, you say you're a Christian"
Casting Women Nationwide Wanting Plastic Surgery To Change Their Looks
Casting Call in Tampa for Student Film "Rule #32"
Cast & Crew in NYC for YouTube Series
Auditions for Cruise Line Singers Coming to Minneapolis


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by Richard Crews
We can't put more troops into Afghanistan--the Afghans won't stand for it and the U.S. populace doesn't like it either. On the other hand we can't not do it, either. At least we can't let the country disintegrate into anarchy; that would be both a humanitarian disaster and an international political disaster.
The Afghans would be able to muster the soldiers and police--and the patriotic will--to provide for their own welfare and civil defense if they had access to training and equipment. So maybe that's what we should provide. But the widespread political corruption would make that very difficult to manage. We would have to accept the necessity of putting as much money and effort into administration and accounting for the training and equipment as into the people and goods themselves.
Afghanistan has significant untapped natural resources--gold, silver, copper, zinc, and iron ore in the Southeast; precious and semi-precious stones (such as lapis, emerald, and azure) in the Northeast; and potentially significant petroleum and natural gas reserves in the North. The country also has uranium, coal, chromite, talc, barites, sulfur, lead, and salt. Although the primitive political structure, the endemic corruption, and the frequent dangerous security issues make developing these resources difficult, helping the Afghans develop some of these with careful selectivity as to location and project type could be useful.
Finally, Afghanistan is not geographically a uniform problem. Some parts of the country are relatively accessible and tamable; some parts will surely remain wild and primitive despite any efforts.
If we withdraw our focus from some areas, providing the Taliban with safe havens for world-wide terrorism would not be a significant problem as I understand it. They simply cannot realistically be routed out of the harsh mountainous regions anyway, plus they already have safe havens in Somalia and elsewhere in Africa and Asia.
Providing the Taliban additional funding from expanded opium trade has also been a concern. But apparently that isn't a significant problem either. Efforts have been made to eradicate opium poppies and to substitute cultivation of rubber, tea, and deciduous fruit trees (apples, pears, apricots, peaches, and persimmons); in some areas the development of factories and mines has also been significant. With suitable government and NGO assistance a typical rural family can increase their annual income by a factor of 10x when they give up illicit opium growing.
Ultimately, the problem of illicit opium cultivation should be handled by undermining the criminalization of demand. This could be done by making opiates (including heroin) legal for use (though probably not for trade and transport) worldwide. In countries where this has been tried, it has generally led to both decreased criminal activity and decreased (not increased) drug use and related health issues.
So the gist of the solution to the problem of "what is the U.S. to do about Afghanistan?" seems to be:
(1) focusing not on providing U.S. military forces but on training and equipping indigenous security forces
(2) recognizing that different parts of the country are amenable to different levels of administrative support (some can be tamed; some must be left wild)
(3) selecting through careful analysis specific infrastructure resource development (e.g., certain mining, factory production, and cultivation of substitute crops)
(4) providing heavy administrative and accounting support wherever we put resources in including requiring reduction of corruption in the Afghan government
(5) revising our anti-narcotic laws to decriminalize non-prescription personal use of opiates in the U.S. and encouraging this worldwide.
Bun Gladieux, president of the Presssure Positive Company, has a blog with an interesting series of topics.
You and Your Muscles
8 years ago


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SINGAPORE - Four men accused of rioting in Little India on Dec 8 were handed additional charges in court last Friday.
Arumugam Karthik, 24, faced two new charges: setting fire to a police car with one other person; and throwing pieces of concrete and overturning a police car with others.
The prosecution tendered one additional charge each against the other three men.
Chinnappa Prabakaran, 23, was accused of instigating a group to set fire to an ambulance; Bose Prabakar, 29, was accused of assaulting an auxiliary police officer by kicking him; and Moorthy Kabildev, 24, was accused of punching bus coordinator Wong Geck Woon inside the bus which ran over Mr Sakthivel Kumaravelu, 33, an Indian national who was a construction worker.
The accident sparked the riot, the first in more than 40 years.
Deputy Public Prosecutor John Lu singled out these four men and asked the Subordinate Courts to revoke their bail, given the additional charges they now faced.
When that was turned down, the DPP then asked for bail to be increased to between $30,000 and $60,000.
At a motion hearing later in the High Court, bail was increased to $60,000 for Karthik and $40,000 each for the other three men.
While Judicial Commissioner Tan Siong Thye did not grant the prosecution's application for bail to be revoked, he said the set bail of $20,000 was inadequate. He ordered the four men not to interfere with witnesses in the case, and to stay out of trouble.
Meanwhile, two of the 25 accused men have made bail. The first, Arun Kaliamurthy, was bailed out on Tuesday by his father's Singaporean friend.
In a statement to reporters outside the Subordinate Courts yesterday, the 28-year-old project manager repeated allegations that he was assaulted by the police. Arun, who was on a social visit pass when he was implicated in the riot, claimed he was "not nearby" when the riot occurred, but was picked up by police some time after midnight in a restaurant near Mustafa Centre.
He also told The Straits Times that he graduated from Swinburne University of Technology in Melbourne, Australia, with a master's degree in technology in 2009 and came to Singapore to work as an IT engineer in the same year.
At a dorm visit last week, Second Minister for Home Affairs and Trade and Industry S. Iswaran said police take such allegations seriously, and would investigate them thoroughly.
"At the same time, if anyone makes frivolous comments and allegations, they will also be appropriately dealt with," he said.
The other accused who made bail was 22-year-old Chinnathambi Malesan, after District Judge Kessler Soh made an exception for his Malaysian employer to bail him out, instead of a Singaporean.
The judge agreed with defence counsel Suresh Damodara that Mr Lew Kok Leong, 51, had roots in Singapore, given his permanent residency since 1978, ownership of an HDB flat and his "absolute control" over Malesan's movement as his employer.
Mr Lew told The Straits Times that Malesan, who is from Tamil Nadu, has worked for him as a tiler for the past eight months.
"I lack a plaster tiler... it's very hard to get a good worker like him," said Mr Lew, who runs Bohonly General Contractors with a partner.
It was the first time he was posting bail for a worker, and he did so with the support of his family and business partner. "He came to Singapore just a few months ago, so I'm trying to help him as much as possible."
Additional reporting by Rachel Au-Yong
Get a copy of The Straits Times or go to straitstimes.com for more stories.


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Lovely expression of the Armorik expressions from the Warenghem Distilery. In 2013 at the same festival I had a chance to try the previous version
The Millesime is just a lovely expression all should try sometime, to see what this French distillery has to offer. Great expressions and something for everyone I think in their line up.
This one again was lovely. Not made any notes on it, but just wrote down that it was great again and sweet & fruity.
Want to know some more of this distillery? Why not have a look here


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Today I got 291 words. Plus, I had to rewrite about 40 words that didn't get saved the last time I hit save before closing word.Grr. Not a big deal, really. But still... grr.
This challenge of writing every day is a new one for me. But I like it. It's been really good for me. And having a reasonable word count goal gives me something to aim for everyday without having to sacrifice much of my everyday demands. But since my writing goals are for each new day and not just the month's total, I needed a way to quickly figure out where I am in my word count at any given moment.
It's a silly little thing, but I decided to put a sticky note next to my mouse and write down my starting word count in one column and the count I need to end at in the next column. My total words for the day get recorded here, too.
For instance, today's line looks like this:
10/14- 65834 --> 66084 291
Easy. As silly as it seems, it really motivates me to reach that number. And when I go past it, I feel kind of like a rock star.
What little tricks motivate you to keep on tapping the keyboard?


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When hearing the word "hero", the average person thinks of Batman, Superman, or any other superhero out there. Just the other day I was asked if I had a hero, someone I looked up to or admired for any particular reason. As cliché as it sounds, my first thought was Jesus because of all he sacrificed for us. Sure, I can think of several people I admire a little more than others for little things that really stand out, but there wasn't anyone that automatically jumped out at me. Perhaps it's because I can be a little too cynical and over analyze anyone's place in my life, or somehow justify their "greatness". Or, maybe I've just never placed that high of title on anyone because we're all fallible and I felt that maybe I'd be let down if I expected too much of them.
Well, as I reminisce this day last year and the heartbreak that occurred, I think I've discovered someone I consider to be a real life hero. She's the amazing mother of little Isabel who was called home last May 3rd after a year-long battle with DIPG. I know she would disagree with me in this honorary title, but from my eyes, and those around her, she truly is. She not only fought daily for her daughter and did every possible thing she could to take care of her, she did it with great faith. Her husband Jonas, and other daughter, Molly, are also great champions in my eyes. They are, to me, the epitome of unsinkable faith (as I've mentioned in a previous post), and that same tenacity to save their own daughters life has carried on even after her passing. They support other families who are going through the same thing and are their warriors of faith. She and her family have done some great things for the DIPG community and it has become her passion to find a cure. To say she's relentless is an understatement. It truly is a most beautiful thing when God takes your pain and uses it for something amazing. To see her heart for other people is probably the most encouraging thing to witness.
Tonight, as I recall so vividly the day I found out about Isabel's diagnosis, I sobbed like I did the day little Isabel went home. I don't fully understand the reason God has given me a special place in my heart for this particular family, but empathy is a great tool to grow spiritually, and so, I'm thankful. Thankful that I can have a small understanding of what they're feeling and be able to offer genuine prayer and condolences. It's not every day you meet such incredible people who endure great hardship with their faith intact. And it's not every day you get to be a part of a journey that's filled with fear, doubt and questions, or get to be a part of a community that truly loves and prays for one another.
Sometimes words elude me when it comes to people who are grieving, I guess I'm afraid to say the wrong thing or fear that I won't be able to say anything at all. And at the beginning of this journey, I didn't know what I should do or how I could help, I felt like I was inadequate to offer anything beneficial. Looking back, I do wish I had trusted my instincts more and just put myself out there. Perhaps God used this as a lesson for a future experience, or maybe that's why He's allowed me to grieve right along with them. Clearly there's no comparison to actually experiencing such a painful trial, but I think God uses situations to teach us lessons about life we wouldn't otherwise learn. All I know is I consider myself lucky to know such selfless people, the world needs more of them!
I'm sure I mentioned in my post last year about Isabel, but the song I heard the day I found out about her diagnosis was, "You Won't Let Go" by Michael W. Smith. As I listened to the song on repeat tonight, the words spoke to me differently than that day. The first line in the song says:
No shadow comes without the light making a way…
It shook me to my core and all I could think about was being in my car that day and how somehow I just knew Isabel would meet Jesus sooner than we all hoped. I wanted to be optimistic and pushed any conflicting thoughts or doubts away from my mind, but something deep within me knew, and so I wept uncontrollably while the song played. I guess God was preparing me for the journey ahead and revealed to me a small part of His plan, yet again, I'm not sure why me.
Thinking about Jennifer & Jonas, and how this life altering event has changed so many plans they had in their hearts for their daughter, I can't help but feel heartbroken for them. And I know they don't want that, but the mom in me can't help it. As they celebrate Isabel's "Angelversary" today, Jennifer has asked for everyone to share a photo of yourself or your kids making a heart with your hands. Such a simple, small gesture to show your love and support for what Isabel went through, as well as all the other kids fighting their own battle with DIPG. Childhood cancer is probably the worst thing that could happen to a family. It needs more attention and funding, it needs a cure!
To find out more about Isabel's hero of a mom, dad, and sister, check out their Facebook page in honor of Isabel and see how you can help fund research for a cure. Don't forget to share your photos with the following hashtag #isabelangelversary.
To read the blog I posted a year ago, click the link: Unfailing Love


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Dear Caroline's Readers,
this time I will bring you to a world some of you might find rather extreme, a particular form of BDSM I am experiencing since a few months: pony play. I will not say I am an expert, I am just having fun and would like to share this with you.
I have started a little diary and what will follow here is the fourth chapter of my adventures at BBF ranch. You might find easier to read the three first chapter on my own blog: Catherine's SecondLife Secret Diary
This story takes place at BBF: Bridled by Force Ponygirl Ranch
I woke up the next morning in a stall, my stall actually … I was even surprised how I managed to actually sleep with the tack on. I had probably one of my worst night, all my body was aching: the leather belts of the harness bit my skin, my jaws were sore of the bits stuffed in my mouth, my shoulder joints were painful of being pulled backwards by the arms binder and my finally I could not feel my feet anymore as they tightened the straps of the boots too much.
The stall itself was very tiny and off course no beds … let's not forget they see me as a pony: Renneville himself, the owner of the estate, reminded me this fact roughly yesterday. The floor was covered by straw, I had some water available in a manger and this is all I had in my "bedroom". As far as I could hear, I was alone in the barn, the other stalls I could see were empty. I tried to raise, and believe me, in those crazy hoof-boots this is a challenge. I finally managed to stand and to keep my balance. I was actually alone in the barn and I was starving. I gathered my thought on the options I had, because let's be honest, there is no way I will let them turn me into a pony or whatever pet … I realised how stupid I was just to come into the island.
I was lost in my thought when I heard the typical sound of the heavy door of the barn sliding open and then shut. I heard the footsteps of someone approaching: I shivered when I recognised Honey. She stopped by my stall and took a long minute to observe me, not saying a word. I felt really awkward, I had again this sensation I was a horse at an auction or something.
-"Nice to see you finally woke up Emily! Still you seem tired … But Emily can understand that: Honey's first nights in a tack were hard too… It will take some time before you have a proper night." she said speaking as usual of herself at the third person … it sounded so odd.
Emily … She continued to call me that silly name they gave me with Renneville… As if their intention was to strip me from my identity too! Honey finally opened the door of the stall. And I could not even argue with her … they prevented me to speak with those crazy bits which were hurting my lips and mouth.
-"Come out Emily! Honey has to train you… And you have a lot to learn believe me!" She added with a smirk.
I walked out and nearly fell … It's quitte impossible to walk with these hoof boots on. I could see the way Honey looked at me, it was so humiliating, I was not even more able to walk properly. Honey pointed out on a plate studded on the top of the stall, I lifted my head to read the name "Emily" was engraved.
-"This is your new home Emily, this stall is now yours … you will learn to like it, you will see!" said Honey. "After a long day of training, you will be craving to rest in your stall". All these humiliations were fuel for my anger and my hate toward Renneville. Soon or late I will have my vengeance!
-"First thing Honey has to teach you Emily is to walk in these boots … you will have to break them and it will not be easy, you can rely on Honey for this. There is only one method … walk and walk again, until you do not have to think about them, until they become as comfortable as a pair of slippers … it will take time, a lot of time, so be patient!" said Honey taking a teacher tone as if I was dumb.
She made a few steps backward in the barn and stretched her arms to me.
-"Ok, now come to Honey will you?" she said encouraging me. I felt so stupid, so vulnerable … even a young child would walk with more insurance than me. I did a few steps and managed to keep my balance, Honey looked at me, motioning to me to come by … I did a few more steps and suddenly my left foot slipped and I fell hardly on my bottom, crashing my tail under me. I squealed … unable to make much noise with the bits stuffed tightly in my mouth.
Honey came to me and helped me to raise again. She looked concerned.
-"It's ok dear … you will fall a lot, this is normal. Take it step by step, do not try to go too quickly, pause and find your balance again when you feel you will fall …. ok?" she enquired. I nodded with a frown to show her my exasperation. "Ho no no no …. don't look at Honey like that, Honey is here to help you …and … a pony does not nod … it stomps!" she added with a smile. I gave her a questioning look and she smiled again. "If you stomp one time it means yes … if you stomp two times, it means no … you understand?" I shook my head defiantly. She narrow-eyed me and shot a heavy spank on my bottom … the pain was so intense. "Do not resist Honey!" she added with a threatening tone. "Understood?" … This time I stomped one time. "Good girl!" she said humiliating me even more.
-"Honey does not know a better exercise than … doing a tour of the estate… Honey is not saying you will enjoy it, but it will make you practising … on the way up and down. You will get the skill in no time" she added with a bright smile. She actually believed what she was saying. I was amazed and shocked at the same time. She did not let me time to think and went to the door of the barn that she slid open. "Come out now Emily!"
I very cautiously moved to her, taking care of each step, ensuring the floor was not too slippery, and very slowly I managed to reach Honey.
-"You see, it's not that difficult … you are managing this very well!" complimented Honey. And here I was, outside and nearly naked in this ridiculous outfit made to humiliate and submit me. I remembered the day before when I set foot on the island and when I came into Honey driving a cart pulled by another girl in the same kind of outfit … I was wondering then how Darla (it is the name of the ponygirl) was feeling: I knew at this time exactly how she probably felt then: vulnerable and broken.
Honey led the way, motioning me to follow her. I was very stressed, walking behind her, I feared that I would fall again and endure the same unbearable pain, and I feared we might run into someone too, someone who would become a witness of my misery. I don't know what was my deepest fear, but what actually happened is that I fell again hardly on the floor, bringing tears of pain. I definitely hated them, this was simply torture they were inflicting to the girls here. Honey sighed and calmly helped me on my feet again. She gave me a little encouraging push to make me resume my walk and led the way again. I followed very slowly, focusing on my moves, the pavement, a little twig on the floor, anything could make me fall again. We walked through the long tunnel under the mountain that leads to the lake, and before I reached its end I fell so many time that I forgot the exact count. My whole body was aching and my buttocks in particular. Honey patiently wait for me, helped me each time I fell to raise and encouraged me… at least she was patient if her only quality.
-"You are making progress, the more we walk, the more distance you can go without falling Emily, this is really good!" she said enthusiastic. "We will arrive soon at the training field, Honey will introduce you to some of your congeners." By the time we arrived there I fell maybe ten times and was exhausted by the exercise and the deep pain. Honey helped along wooden stairs up to the field where the others were training … a fall here would have been fatal and Honey knew it … at no time she let me alone and I arrived safe upstairs.
As soon as we arrived, the two ponygirls approached me and Honey. One of them, I recognized her, was Darla, the other was introduced to me as Zaara … I had no doubt these were not their real names as Honey introduced me as Emily to them … They wore similar outfits to mine, although Darla wore a more conservative one, or let's say a more covering one. They mimicked horses sounds and noises with their mouth, it was simply amazing and Honey seemed to find this normal. I guessed it was a sort of welcoming ritual and I just nodded to each of them to say hello in the most civilized way I could manage with the tack on.
Honey gave a few instructions to Darla to continue on her training and reached out to Zaara and installed a lead on her head harness.
-"It's time for you to go back to your stall Zaara" said Honey pulling on the lead. "Darla, come back to the barn when you are done" she ordered. Darla simply stomped … I was amazed by her docility, it probably represented the target that Honey had in mind with me, but I promised myself she would fail in the process. "Come Emily, Honey will help you downstairs" she addressed me. I was this time happy to comply with the order, having no intention to use those stairs without her help. Once downstairs, she took the lead of Zaara and led the way … I did not know if it was intentional, but her pace was significantly quicker and inevitably I fell again … and again … and again. But now that we were with Zaara, she let me raise alone, it was definitely very complicated with my arms bound behind me,after each fall it took ages for me to resume my walk … and sometimes I fell just a few steps after raising. I was becoming more and more desperate, I could nearly not feel my feet … and my bottom was just a big red painful and horrendous centre of pain. As stupid as it could sound, I was starting to get jealous of the skills of Zaara to walk in the exact same boots with such easiness, it made me crazy!
When the barn came into view finally, Honey looked back at me:
-"Emily, join Honey at the barn, Honey will set Zaara in her stall while you make your way" and then she accelerated, followed by Zaara and soon I was alone .. walking slowly and I was exhausted. The worst of it being the path being slighly uphill, and despite all my efforts and my numerous falls …. I was not able to move up to the barn, I was stuck. I shouted, I cried, and I expressed all my anger and frustration, but I did not find a way to make my walk to the barn. I finally fell again on my bottom again, hiding my crying face behind my knees, I did not move for ages, waiting for Honey to come to my help. I think it was the most humiliating of all this day, I felt so dependent, so broken, and the more I thought of it, the more I was sure Honey did this on purpose … she definitely has good skills at breaking people I thought.
When I raised my head again, I noticed that Darla was coming the opposite way to me … she was accompanied by another ponygirl I did not know, I learnt later her name was Sienna. They were surrounding me and seemed worried about me. For the first time in the day I saw some human and compassionate attitude towards me. I raised again with difficulties and attempted to walk again towards the barn … Darla and Sienna seemed to understand what was going on and they tried to help the best they can … but I fell again and burst into cries in despair and tiredness.
-"What's going on here?" said a female voice behind me. I looked back and saw a blondie girl standing behind me. Who she could be I was really wondering … another trainer of this devil place, she did not look like it. She had a bottle of beer in her hand and stared at the three of us … and then she laughed like crazy, it took one long minute before she could recompose. "Is that a joke or something? A hidden camera right?" then she laughed again … she was definitely drunk and I felt she was in great danger. I wondered how she ended on the island. "Let me help you on your feet" she said while helping me raise.
She gasped when she saw the redness of my bottom.
-"Ho my god … what happened?" I tried to walk again and Darla pointed at my boots and she seemed to understand as she nodded. She helped me move forward and with a gentle push she managed to help me to pass the uphill part of the path. I was nodding to her very gratefully when Honey came back.
-"Come on, Honey disappeared for a few minutes and you take advantage to get lazy!" said Honey with a frown to the three of us. "Darla and Sienna, you go back at the training field immediately!" she ordered. Both girls stomped and with a last look to me, moved away to the fields. Once again I was envious of their skills to walk in these boots. "Emily, you stay with Honey, we are going to train you at the cart pulling!" … then she looked at the blondie who were staring at the scene puzzled. "Sorry you had to witness such lazy ponies … welcome to our farm! Her name is Honey!"
The blondie looked at Honey completely lost, like me when I arrived I did not understand that Honey always speak of herself at the third person. "Her … name?" Honey smiled and pointing at her own chest she repeated:
-"Her name is Honey". The blondie exploded in laugh
-"All right, all right, you are speaking a strange way Honey. I am Amelia" she said … "Where are we? The last thing I remembered was that I was at this party … I drank a lot and then I waked up in the woods nearby". said Amelia.
Honey detailed Amelia with a smile.
-"You are in the property of Darius Renneville. He is running a ranch of ponygirls as you have probably noticed" said Honey.
Amelia probably intoxicated by the alcohol laughed again. I immediately understood that Amelia was fallen in a trap and that she was about to be forced into what I have been through. As they were discussing together I looked at Amelia trying to urge her to flee. Amelia looked at me amused
-"What is it you want ponygirl" she asked me. Immediately Honey caught me and frowning she shook her head to threaten me … in order to make it crystal clear, she gave me a hard spank. Amelia gasped.
-"I am sorry Amelia, this pony is not trained yet … I am going to lock her in her stall while I show you the estate, follow me, I will show you the barn".
And the unsuspecting Amelia followed us. Honey roughly locked me in my stall and they both vanished upstairs. Around one hour later they were both back in the barn and Amelia was even more intoxicated than she was earlier, Honey had probably make her to drink. Amelia was now an easy prey for Darla, she did not even speak clearly, she was completely drunk. Honey managed to make her model for her, first some hoof boots …. Amelia was laughing all the time and soon the boots were locked on her feet.
I tried to make her back to her sense by hitting the wooden door of my stall but despite making a lot of noise, neither Honey nor Amelia paid attention to it. Honey managed to make Amelia pass some hoof gloves and she locked them immediately, I knew the trap was now set … Honey would not let her go anymore. Still Amelia was laughing and laughing, asking for the gloves to be removed and Honey was mimicking she was drunk as well and suddenly she revealed her intention: she made Amelia to fall and jumped on her back. Amelia was now screaming in panic but Honey did not stop and ripped her clothes off and was tightening a harness onto her. Then the silence came when the head harness and the bits were put into place… I shivered remembering all the process I went through and I knew the worst was still to come … the tail! Honey forced it onto her and that was all done.
I heard a nearby stall opened and closed. Honey had probably lock the poor girl now. I shivered! I jumped when Honey came into view right in front of my stall's door. She looked at me with a really threatening stare
-"Emily you will never try to intervene like you did again" she threatened. "This is the one and only warning Honey gives you, next time, be sure you will regret it …. bitterly!" she finished her sentence. "We will have our cart training tomorrow Emily, Honey now has to warn her master we have a new pony!"
She suddenly left and I could hear the heavy door of the barn sliding closed … and then the silence and the muffed sobbing of a girl in a stall nearby. I was devastated.
If you are interested to visit BBF ranch and have a ride with me or my fellow ponygirls, here is the taxi:
BBF: Bridled by Force Ponygirl Ranch


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Despite recent warnings indicating the coal industry outlook is quickly deteriorating, Glencore Xstrata (LON:GLEN) is going full-speed with its plans to boost production of the fuel.
The miner and trading house giant is expected to spend more on coal than any of its three closest competitors, BHP Billiton (ASX:BHP), Rio Tinto (LON:RIO) and Anglo American (LON: ANGLO), reports Bloomberg.
Meanwhile BHP, the world's largest mining company, Rio and Anglo have put all new coal investments on hold, sold mines or paused others.
A mounting number of analysts are questioning the wisdom of investing in the commodity. "Earning a return on incremental investment in thermal coal mining and infrastructure capacity is becoming increasingly difficult," said Goldman Sachs earlier this year.
For others, CEO Ivan Glasenberg's move makes total sense. "This is a classic counter-cyclical acquisitive strategy that Ivan Glasenberg has made his name in," mining analysts Paul Gait told Bloomberg.
Global coal consumption is currently rising at an average rate of 1.3% per year, and the growth is primarily driven by demand from China, India, and other non-OECD countries.
Source: mining.com


text:
Kathy Cawley
North Augusta High Class of 1999
Memories of Kathy Cawley
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- Water with green food coloring and glitter. Fun to shake up and turn into a glittery snow globe.
- Water with food coloring and baby oil. This makes a wave bottle, or you can shake it to mix the water and oil and watch them separate. Please note, baby oil can be toxic if ingested. If your child tends to put things in his mouth, I would use vegetable oil instead.
- Rice with sequins, buttons, and foam shapes. This is great for shaking or for a fun I-spy game.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Sensory Bottles
This week, we had a great time using empty water bottles to make sensory bottles for our science center. This is a fun an easy project to try at home as well! The great thing about sensory bottles is that anything goes. You really can't mess them up. Here are a couple of the sensory bottles we made this week...
Posted by Erin Jackle at 7:15 AM
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text:
There is something inside of me that is changing. I'm growing, maturing and gaining strength. For most of my life I have had an awful habit of second guessing myself. I felt timid and shy; secretly believing that I wasn't "good enough". I didn't believe love would ever come my way. I never thought that I deserved to better things in life. That's changing now. As I grow older I am finding a desire to give myself the nurturing that I clearly missed out on earlier in life. My husband and son have taught me so much about what it means to love and be loved in return. I know I am not the best wife or the perfect mother, but still they love me just the same and that is a wonderful safety net.
Now that I have the comfort of knowing that I can mess up, that I don't have to be perfect; I feel empowered and more confident to take steps I was too afraid to take before. I still have a long way to go, but I believe I can do it. I believe that I deserve it.
I'm still sick and battling a terrible cold. I rarely ever get sick and I really don't handle it very well. I've been a bit of a baby lately but I'm still doing the best that I can.
I found out that my job is (most likely) safe for at least another year. Which is a relief, but I still don't have the feeling of genuine job security that I had prior to the merger. At least I can relax a little and I have time to try to sock away as much money as I can in the meantime. Part of me was looking forward to a lay off, I was hoping to be able to take a break from the 9-5 for a couple of months and just hang with the boy. They were going to give me 12 weeks of severance pay if they laid me off this year as part of the contract for the merger, not a bad sum to bum around for the summer on. Since they are keeping me longer, I'll only get a measly 6 weeks if they decide to lay me off after November 1st. So I'm really hoping that means they don't plan to lay anyone else off for some time to come, because if I miss out on the extra severance pay by only a month or two I'll be royally pissed.
I'm doing okay with the food. Yesterday would have been perfect except that I woke up in the middle of the night with a pukey stomach due to the severe nasal drip I've had, so I ate a couple of my son's graham crackers to help settle my stomach. If I can just kick this cold I think I'll be right on track.
I hope you all are having success meeting your goals so far this year!
Friday, January 14, 2011
Change is good.
Posted by Xinabean.blogspot.com at 8:12 AM
1 comment:
"As I grow older I am finding a desire to give myself the nurturing that I clearly missed out on earlier in life."ReplyDelete
This post really resonates with me because I find myself somewhere between your first and second paragraphs - wanting to be kinder to myself, but not quite there yet in the BEING kinder to myself (if that makes sense). And mistakes/perfectionism plays a huge role in not being able to forgive myself. Any tips? :)
So glad to hear about your job! :)
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text:
Arcadia Biosciences has received a patent from the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office for "Wheat with Increased Resistant Starch Levels."
The patent is for Arcadia's non-genetically modified Resistant Starch (RS) Wheat lines.
The RS wheat was developed using Arcadia's proprietary wheat genetic diversity library, which is an extensive resource of wheat lines, with high-density variations in genetic composition and gene function.
A grant from the U.S. National Institutes for Health helped Arcadia to fund the RS Wheat project.
The difference between conventional wheat and the Arcadia RS Wheat is that conventional wheat has very low levels of resistant starch and the RS Wheat has significantly higher levels of total dietary fiber, both whole grain flour and refined white flour. The U.S. Department of Agriculture recommends 25-38 grams of total dietary fiber, but Americans average only 16 grams of fiber a day.
"Because wheat is the world's largest cultivated crop, it's a key focus for the health-promoting benefits of resistant starch,"
Arcadia President and CEO Eric Rey said. "RS Wheat creates the potential for wheat-based whole foods like pasta, bread and other baked goods with higher fiber and fewer additives. Foods like these may taste and perform like those made with refined wheat, but have significant additional health benefits. This could make a great contribution to global health, and represents a major financial opportunity for Arcadia."
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Please call 914-234-9234 for details.
Wake up to the Extraordinary Every DAY!! Magnificent Bedford Colonial, Perfectly sited on 4 rolling meadow acres to take in the phenomenal distant country views. Minutes to Train, schools and shopping in the heart of Bedford's finest location. - complete top to bottom renovation. 2016 Taxes $44,000 - over 6,000 ft 'new construction' - 4 acres, prime location, extraordinary views - pool with cabana - 4 br, 4/2 baths - bonus room, office, guest - wet bar - new exterior siding, trim, roof, driveway, irrigation, landscaping and drainage - new interior layouts, trim, lighting, in home stereo - new kitchen and baths - new mechanical systems: 4 high efficiency Lennox heat pump hybrid, dual fuel, systems with wifi controls - new insulated garage doors with wifi operators - new alarm system with touch screen controls and wifi with home automation capability - full height, full footprint clean basement Experience the Best of Westchester.
Cathedral/Vaulted/High Ceiling, Close to School, Cul-De-Sac, Eat in Kitchen, In Ground Pool, Master Bath, Patio, Powder Room, Security System, View, Wetbar
LISTING COURTESY OF Ginnel Real Estate


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Mets put CF Juan Lagares (hamstring) on 15-day DL
Mets put CF Juan Lagares (hamstring) on 15-day DLNew York Mets' Juan Lagares flies out to right field during the third inning of a baseball game against the Arizona Diamondbacks on Monday, April 14, 2014, in Phoenix. Lagares had to leave the game early, but the Mets defeated the Diamondbacks 7-3. (AP Photo/Ross D. Franklin)
PHOENIX (AP) -- The New York Mets have placed center fielder Juan Lagares on the 15-day disabled list with a pulled right hamstring and recalled outfielder Kirk Nieuwenhuis from Triple-A Las Vegas.
Lagares was injured while beating out a double-play ball Monday night in New York's 7-3 win over Arizona.
An outstanding defender, Lagares had performed well in an everyday role after Chris Young went down with a strained quadriceps at the beginning of the season. Lagares was leading the Mets with a .314 batting average and a nine-game hitting streak.
Young is eligible to come off the disabled list Friday.
Nieuwenhuis hit .310 with two homers and eight RBIs in 10 games with the 51s.
Right fielder Curtis Granderson also was out of the lineup Tuesday night after injuring his left forearm and ribs when he collided with the outfield wall Monday. He is day to day.


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Mizan Rahman
There was a time when I didn't need an excuse to go to my village. All I needed was a break from school. A vacation, even if it was for just a few days, an opportunity to break away from the monotony of urban life, from the drudgery of the dark and damp alleys of old Dhaka where the sun never shone and the birds never sang. That was a long, long time ago. The Fulbaria train station was close to where we lived in those days. Oh what a thrill it was to board a train, to hear the wheels screeching out of the platform, hissing and puffing like a thousand horses in tandem. How sweet it was to feel the splash of steam on my face and the dust of coal brushing my hair. I'd always make sure to find a seat by the window. I wanted to feel the full blast of the dust and dirt from open fields of rural Bengal whizzing by the speeding train. No sooner the train was out of Tejgaon and into the heartland of the famed jackfruit country of Kurmitola and Tongi I could smell the rich aroma from the green seedlings of jute all over the ground, and marvel at the endless rows of jackfruit and mango trees on either side. The tall skyscraping bamboos would swing in a gentle breeze as if in a gesture of warm welcome to the urban visitor. I'd feel like an enchanted travellor into a many-splendoured world of pure fantasy, an eternity of boundless horizons. The train was very noisy in those days, the old rugged steam engine, you know, spewing off tons and tons of coal-dust and warm steam, but to my mind they were all part of a gala opening of a big orchestra that Nature had arranged for me.
But now, near the end of the century, having long lost my youthful innocence, I'm looking for an excuse for not going to the village! The very thought of leaving the comforts of city-life is frightening to me. Instead of running to the station as I did before I run to the doctor's office asking for every possible step that I must take to prevent any health problems that I'm likely to face in the village. I'm told in no uncertain terms that I must drink only from properly sanitized bottles of boiled water, must avoid fried greasy foods, must not let a mosquito sit on my skin and a house fly share my meals. As a final safeguard against any possible mishap the good doctor puts a needle in my arm, like an armed security device installed in the body to fight off the invading brutes of the village jungle. His last piece of advice to me was to take a medically qualified friend with me, if possible.
If it depended on me I'd have probably decided to stay put with my folks in Dhaka. But it was impossible for me to ignore the wishes of my father. He told me that it was one of his long-cherished hopes that he would take me to his birthplace and have me meet all those good people who were near and dear to him all his life and who had followed my career with great pride and interest. He wanted to show off his eldest son, one who had done so well in a great western country called Canada. He wanted to share the joy and pride with the villagers who thought of him and his family as the greatest success story born out of their own soil. He wanted everybody to know and see that his dreams had finally been realized, and his hard work had been rewarded. Needless to say it would be cruel of me to say no to him. I just couldn't.
My favoured mode of transport would have been the train, for old time's sake. But my friends and zillions of well-wishers warned me of all the possible dangers of riding a train. Instead of inspiring any romantic nostalgia it might help create some horror-filled experience that I'd probably be better off without, they said. Modern trains were overcrowded, filthy, smelly, and downright unhealthy and unsafe. So it was decided that I'd be driven to Norshingdi in a friend's car. Not exactly his personal car, rather his personal official car, which was hardly ever used for official purposes. This, I was told, was the usual practice in the bureaucratic circles of Bangladesh---official limousines are almost exclusively the vehicles of transportation of the officers in charge, and not the offices they are supposed to serve. So our "official" driver took his private passengers to the river port of Norshingdi in about one and a half hours. But my destination was across the river, another five miles away, a village called Hashnabad, which was not accessible by car. We decided to take the train for the one-hop journey to the next station which was a mere 3 minutes away. I got tickets for a first-class carriage, not for prestige or any inflated sense of self-importance, but for a bit of comfort, more for my aging and ailing father than myself. Alas, comfort is exactly what was missing from that surprisingly overcrowded compartment. To my horror and utter dismay I found out that there were two kinds of riders in the first-class compartments—one, who didn't buy any ticket at all, first, second, or third class, yet occupied all the seats, and the other, who had bought the tickets with full fare and didn't have a single empty seat to sit on. And, to add insult to injury, you'd better not argue with any of those rough-looking young riders for fear of any physical harm they might inflict on you. They are known as political elements, who are the musclemen of their political masters. They are the new untouchable class of the country.
We got off at the small rural station called Ameergonj, a sleepy little one-room station by the river Ariolkha. On the west side is the sprawling market town of Ameergonj, and on the east is my childhood paradise called Hashnabad, the village where my father was born, and where my uncles still lived, tended their land and raised their families. That was the place where, for generations, my ancestors lived through good times and bad, through famines and droughts, good crops and bad, storms and floods, through hope and despair. They didn't have much to sustain, not enough land or livestock or other resources. They came close to ruin at times by prolonged droughts, to annihilation at others by epidemics, but they fought back. In some miraculous way they always came back and started all over again from the ashes. They are among the toughest of people I ever knew. And there, on a mid-winter sunny day, was standing a middle age Bangladsehi Canadian, holding firmly
the feeble hands of his elderly father, by the railroad, in full view of the curious eyes of a large crowd of villagers.
I sipped a few drops of boiled water from the flask, and climbed up a waiting rickshaw with my father comfortably seated by my side. The rickshaw-puller put his feet on the pedals, and off we went. My mind went back 40-50 years when there were no rickshaws on this road or anywhere else in the region. Even this railway station wasn't there. All we had was a narrow sidewalk beside the railroad snaking through the bushes into the deep wilderness of what felt like a huge block of solid darkness. By international standards it was probably a small forest that didn't even deserve a mention in the guidebooks, but in my mind it couldn't have been more frightening. It was no less than the tropical rainforests I would read about in my Geography books. I doubt if there were any wild animals there, but my grandma used to tell me stories about occasional sighting of tigers, and about mysterious vanishing of domestic poultry and goats at night, presumably thro' nighttime hunting trips of foxes or other carnivorous animals. The trees were so tall and the foliage was so thick that at some spots the sun would be almost completely blocked out. Unfortunately that was about the only direct route for east-west travellors, which I was, so it was one that I could hardly avoid even if I tried. Yet the amazing thing about it was its dark beauty and charm. It frightened me, yet drew me toward it in a mesmerizing way. There were times when I'd step on something that moved, and not seeing anything, I'd imagine it was a snake or some such venomous creature, which I dreaded most. Running out the rest of the way I'd swear never to take that road alone again, but I always did. That little trek of rainforest was my pied piper.
It was on the very same road, today, a half-century later, I was on a rickshaw going to pay a visit to my roots. The march of modernization was clearly visible everywhere around me. The tall trees that had stood there for generations finally fell victim to the mighty bulldozer. Truckloads of rich farmland soil were poured on the narrow path to make it wide enough for two rickshaws to pass each other, even to let an automobile drive to important destinations of urban dignitaries. There used to be a canal on the left side that my father would bring me to for occasional fishing trips, and where my uncles would set up traps in dry seasons to catch koi and catfish. Today, as my rickshaw puller was working hard to push through a sandy strip of road I looked out to see that canal of my childhood gone forever, and replaced by rows of thatched cottages. Humans had taken over the land that belonged to little creatures of the bushes. The aquatic animals were made homeless and extinct. The home of the night jackals and of the tigers of my grandma's tales was now the home of human families. The enchanted forest of my adolescence was now standing in the blazing sun of the tropical winter like a naked little boy.
The rickshaw came to a stop at the edge of our little hamlet. I got off first, then helped my father down. The earth under my feet, all of a sudden, seemed to come alive, as if it recognized my touch. As if it wanted to give me a big hug, and to say 'welcome home, my son'. I remembered the tall tamarind tree that stood precisely at the spot where I was standing today. It was like a protective umbrella over the 5-room unit of huts that once belonged to my Panju-dada, who was not related to me by blood but by village connection. Almost all children of my age in that village used to think of him as if he were their real grandfather, sometimes more than their own. He left an indelible impression on all our lives. Every time I'd go for a visit to Hashnabad it was his house that I'd drop in first, partly because it was on the way to our home, and partly for the attraction I felt for his ebullient personality and his charismatic manner of drawing people toward him. Of all people in the village I knew he was the one with the broadest smile and the warmest hug. He was also the wisest and the kindest. He used to be the most revered arbitrator of all petty disputes of the largely illiterate villagers. I had my first lesson in how basic democracy worked in the rural communities by observing the way Panjudada conducted his informal courts. Whenever there would arise a contentious issue in the village he would summon all adult males to assemble under that tamarind tree. First he would state the problem, then analyze it in details with no apparent bias on either side. Once he was absolutely sure that everybody understood what the real issues are he would state his own opinions. But he would never say that his opinions were the final decision, rather would leave the floor open for others to offer their opinion. He would invite them to speak up, to state with reasons what they thought should be the decision. Usually most of them would agree with his own opinion, but if there were a dissenting voice or an alternate idea, then the discussion would continue for another round, yet another and another, until a general consensus had been reached. That was quite an eye-opening exercise for me. Even to my western-educated modern mind the memory of those incredible sessions in home-grown village democracy remains a mystery. It was unbelievable.
My Panjudada was an amazing person indeed. I still remember the ingenious way he would " catch" a thief. Assume that there was an episode of break-in in someone's house during the night. The usual thing would be to report the incident to the police. But the nearest police station was a good five miles away, and even if you did report you couldn't be sure that justice would be served as quickly as you'd hope. So the next best thing was to go to the informal court of Panjudada. He would first make up a clandestine list of possible suspects, i.e., those who were known to have tried their hands in break-in attempts before, then promptly set up an ad hoc court in someone's front yard with the suspects seated to form a semicircle. A few grains of "charmed" rice would be placed on a brass plate, and a strong young man from the crowd would be asked to press his palm firmly on the plate. Panjudada would then close his eyes, mutter some strange words that I never understood, move his hands in a mysterious way, while the crowd waited in a state of mesmerized silence. Suddenly, inexplicably, there was a motion. The young man's hand and body would start moving, as if whipped by an invisible spirit to move in a direction that he had no control on, known only to the god of spirits. It was quite a scary thing to watch for me. I suppose it was scary even for the adults. The brass plate would continue moving with the young man helplessly following its direction, until at one time it would stop at one of the suspects' feet. That was, of course, the unfortunate person who would be declared as the guilty man. The verdict was final, no appeals allowed. Pretty scary kind of judgment, no doubt. With hindsight I'd even say, judgment without justice. But the amazing thing about it was that on the few occasions I had the opportunity to observe the proceedings of the village court, I found out, to my disbelief , that the marked culprit was indeed the actual offender. How that could possibly happen I have no idea.
There were a few other nuggets of treasure in my Panjudada's bag of secrets. In those days there was not a single doctor in a five-mile radius of our village. So who do you think the folks would run to if someone in the family needed medical help? You guessed it right. Our good-old Panjudada, of course. I still remember one particularly bone-chilling event.
There was an enormous abscess on just above the left eye of a 10-12 year old boy, who had been suffering for days in intense pain and discomfort. Something just had to be done to relieve the poor boy from his unbearable agony. An ad hoc solution was found by the village elders. Since it was not possible to bring a doctor in a reasonable length of time, it was decided that Panjudada would be entrusted with the difficult job. So we all assembled one day in the front yard of the local mosque while Panjudada got ready with his crude scalpels and other essentials. The boy was held firmly by two strong young men sitting on either side. We held our breath while Panjudada, coolly and calmly, proceeded with the sharp blade of a kitchen knife to cut open the boil in a flash. The poor boy's screams must have traveled miles across the open fields. There was, of course, no anesthetics, no painkillers, no antiseptic devices, not even a drop of rubbing alcohol. The very sight of the bloody and gory mess was too much for some of us to take. I was going to pass out, didn't, but a few of the younger kids did. Perhaps the only person who remained in complete control of his nerves was Panjudada himself. Today, having spent most of my adult life in the west, I'd not have expected to see the boy recover from his ordeal. But it was 60 years ago when there was no modern medicine in remote villages of Bangladesh, so it was up to the patriarchs like Panjudada to do whatever they could to alleviate some of the suffering of the village folks. Amazingly, inexplicably, that young boy responded very well to the surgery, and had returned to normal life in no time at all.
I cannot resist mentioning yet another incident involving Panjudada that has remained a complete mystery to me through all these years. I had an aunt, the youngest sister of my father, a full-blown beauty of 18-19 at the time, who suddenly got sick. It was not an ordinary sort of illness. The symptoms were quite strange. Her body would shake violently, teeth clenched, eyes about to pop out of their sockets. I, along with other kids of the family, was watching her contorted body twist and turn continuously, as if possessed by an invisible demon. The elders had decided that she was under the spell of a wicked spirit. Aunt Johra was an unusually good-looking girl. With her bright-coloured skin, well-built body, dreamy eyes and luscious lips she was quite a stunning beauty. Her beauty was too dazzling for the evil spirits to resist, they opined. But how does one scare the spirit out of her body? Who but our very own witchdoctor Panjudada? As usual he was on the scene as soon as the word got to him. He came, with a knowing smile on his face, had a look at my aunt's witch-ridden body, and quickly confirmed that it was indeed the evil spirit that hides behind the thick bushes across the backyard, and pounces on the unsuspecting victim at an appropriate moment. He informed us that its particular fascination is with pretty girls, who, therefore should never be left alone near that bush. Needless to say, a couple of hours of his well-honed witchcraft that only he might have understood, the "spirit" finally let go of my aunt Johra. She came out of it, visibly shaken, and quite perplexed as to what could have happened to draw so many people around her ,and how could she have allowed herself to compromise her modesty with her sari and hair in such an embarrassing mess. I was relieved to see her out of her suffering, but found it hard to shed my sense of bewilderment as to what really happened to her. At that time I was too young to know that it was probably nothing more than an epileptic seizure that some young village girls were prone to, for whatever reason, especially in thick bushy areas.
That old tamarind tree was not there anymore in Panjudada's front yard. It had fallen to the road-widening project of the government. Panjudada himself had been long deceased, as had been most of his sons and daughters. There were faces that I never saw before, huts and houses, trees and bushes, that were not there fifty years ago. Of his seven sons four died of cholera, one of malaria, one left for better life somewhere else, and the youngest one moved to Norshingdi to earn a living by pulling a rickshaw. The young adults and teenagers of the village are not interested in tilling the fields anymore. Too many people and too little land to farm. So they dream to get away. To Dhaka,to Chittagong, or Khulna, where they would find work. Or better still, to Abu Dhabi, Doha, or anywhere where they could earn enough dollars to get rich overnight. They are all dreaming to get out of their home to seek fortune elsewhere. The sharp contrast to what used to be in my father's time didn't escape my eyes.
I held firm to my father's hands. My mind had crossed the barrier of time and began wandering along the narrow path that crisscrossed our little hamlet. The memories that were stored away in my mind came flooding back to my world of consciousness.
A few more steps took us to my final destination. My ancestral home, a tiny piece of land, that couldn't possibly be spotted on any official map, yet occupied such a huge landscape in my mind. This was the most sacred place of my life. This is where it all started. This is where my father and his siblings were born. This is where I didn't exist, yet today my existence is all about this place. I felt like a determined explorer who finally discovered the source of a mighty river. While my father sat down for a bit of rest his younger brother Hassan, looking more frail and weak than his age, came to greet us with open arms. He looked at me as if to find someone else, someone from his past life, very dear and near to him, then suddenly threw his arms around me and started sobbing like a little baby. I, too, for once didn't know how to keep my emotions under control. Can't say for how long we were locked in each other's arms, seemed like an eternity. Then came my aunt Rokeya, my most favourite aunt, who tried in vain to put a smile on her face, finding nothing to say but to ask if I were hungry and if I'd like to eat a special pitha she made for me. Silly of her to remind me that this was the pitha that I was once crazy for in my childhood, and that nobody could make them as tasty as she could. She was the aunt who took me in her bridal palanquin on her wedding day along with new husband. How could I ever forget any of those? She was not a new bride any more, but a grandmother, an elderly village woman, cowed down by years of hard work and a dozen or more childbirths. Yet, today, she was back in her parental home just to be on hand for her favourite nephew coming for a day-visit from a faraway land called Canada. She wanted to take care of all the cooking for me. She couldn't trust anyone else with my comfort and well-being. She had to do it with her own hands, just like the old times. She cooked a very spicy dish with duck meat that I used to relish once upon a time. My poor aunt! How could she know, having lived the life of a farmer's wife whose only purpose of existence was to be at service for a large number of people in the house, that her Canadian nephew would no longer be able to eat spicy duck for fear of aggravating his already severe cholestoral and other health problems? How could she ever know that the little kid of 6 or 7 she used to help go to bed by telling stories from the Arabian Nights and wrapping his body under warm comfy quilts, was the same aging expatriate who left home looking helplessly everywhere for a meaning of life, with a morbid fear of fatty foods like an oily and greasy duck?
When I was a 10-yr old boy, I, along with the whole family lived in the village for four full months, first to avoid the bomb raids by the Japanese in the Second World War, then to escape the crippling famine that had struck the city of Dhaka. To my mind that was the most memorable and most enjoyable 4 months of my life. That is when the flora and fauna of my village made a deep impression on my mind. The rural Bengal revealed herself in all her charm and beauty to my young eyes. I fell in love. Love for the smell of the soil, the noise of the birds, the sound of rain on the tin roof, the dragon flies playing in the rice fields, and the thick black clouds in the monsoon sky like an army of dinosaurs about to descend on the mother earth. It was during those 4 months that the foundation of my character and personality was formed, in my opinion. That was when I knew the meaning of purity. I learned what pure joy is, what the difference is between pleasure and ecstasy. But for that experience I don't think I would be nearly half a man that I am today. I owe the birth of my inner soul to whatever little time I was able to spend in my village. It helped me find my own little niche in the greater globe.
I feel sorry for those Bengalis whose knowledge of rural Bangladesh is only through the tube of TV, the celluloid of the movies, or the pictures in the tourist books. It is impossible to grasp the intoxicating power of the raw nature of the Bengali village without filling the heart with that maddeningly earthy aroma that permeates the air, without having to wake up in the middle of the night because of the continuous groaning of the frogs in the marshes or the sound of the monsoon rain on the roof. The incredible charm of the village life has inspired many poets and songwriters to create their immortal works, but no one can fully appreciate how deeply the six seasons of the Bengali calendar affects the daily life of the ordinary villagers unless one has spent a good deal of time there and have shared their life. I am not a poet, but I'm lucky to have had the opportunity of spending a lot of my holidays in the village during my childhood and adolescence. I was there to see the grey dust storm racing through the barren fields near the end of the dry season of Choitra, the black nimbus clouds rising from the horizon like a prehistoric monster, to venture out with my cousins to collect the precious blobs of ice from the blinding hailstorm. Oh, what a thrill it was to get soaked in the monsoon rain and dance in joy in the flash floods it would invariably leave behind. It was just as thrilling to go out in the stormy nights to pick the fallen mangos with my aunts. I'd watch in awe and wonder the roofs of poor farmers getting blown away by the raging wind. I heard the deafening crackle of thunder and large branches of trees struck down by the merciless rain. One particularly frightful night remains etched in my mind, even to this day. It was dark, and eerily quiet. As if the world was approaching its final moment of existence. The sky was thick in a mass of calm, voiceless cloud. It was middle of the night. I should have been deep in sleep, but I wasn't. I couldn't. There was fear in the air. We were holding our breath. Something terrible was going to happen. Suddenly there was a loud voice slicing through the still night. It was my uncle Hassan, trying to scare away the evil spirit. It would bring the dreaded tornado, I was told, that could be deflected only by loud volleys of war-cries like the ones my uncle was able to muster. He also held a large machete in his hand just in case the storm did hit the village. It was generally believed by the villagers that tornados are fearful of only one thing—a machete! I, on the other hand, was more fearful of the war-cries of my uncle than the tornados, which I never really experienced myself.
It was the same uncle in whose arms I lost my composure today. He was too weak to utter an audible word, and I was too overcome by memories to try to say anything. We just kept ourselves locked in an everlasting embrace, and let time keep flow toward its endless eternity.
I inquired about my uncle Barek, not related by blood, but by village kinship, just like Panjudada. But he was one of my most favourite uncles, mostly for his sense of humour, his endless stock of hilarious wisecracks. I never saw him in a dark mood. Always smiling, always cheerful, no matter how hard the day-to-day might be. Droughts, floods, crop failures, nothing would seem to bother him. I still remember a few of his jokes. One goes like this. Someone was grieving the death of his son-in-law and that of his daughter-in-law. Barek uncle tried to snap him out of his grief by pointing out the bright side: this time death spared your own flesh and blood. Consider yourself lucky. It could be much worse. Another one: a middle-aged fellow sat beside a young lady in a half-empty car of a fast-moving train. In an apparent state of half-awake and half-asleep he found himself scratching the stately muscles on the upper parts of the lady's left leg. Shocked in utter disbelief the lady sprang from her seat in raving rage demanding an explanation. Poor guy couldn't possibly tell the truth. So he just said, sheepishly, sorry about that my fair lady, I was wondering in my dozy state why my itch was not going away. Now I understand!
Barek uncle had a daughter called Begam. She was quite a girl. Like a tomboy. She would climb up people's fruit trees to steal mangoes, berries, guavas and lychees. She would ravage the farmers' fields of radishes and cucumbers. She was a terror. An indomitable spirit. Yet, Barek uncle could find no fault with her—she was his child, his ever-innocent baby. He would dote over her. She was the centre of his universe. I never saw an ordinary village farmer loving a daughter as passionately as he did. He was a poor man, yet wouldn't think twice to buy something new every week from the market for Begam. Anything she would ask for would be hers in no time. For her, money was never a problem to the father. There was a time when we used to play together. For some reason she was always very nice and kind to me. Usually she would snatch toys from other children, but she never did that to me. On the contrary, she would share her own toys with me. If her father would buy some biscuits or lollipops for her she would not hesitate to give me a share. Perhaps she thought as a city-boy I wouldn't get those things easily, or that I might not have such an indulgent father, so she felt a bit sorry for me.
It turned out that Barek uncle got the word of my arrival, so came over himself to say hello to me. It took both of us a while to recognize each other. But eventually we did. I could see that time and life had left deeper scars on him than they did on me. He couldn't hear well, see well, didn't have a single tooth in his mouth, and his body was like the bark of a dead tree. He looked sad, very sad. The smile was gone. The shine on his face was gone. Couldn't figure out what could have happened to bear on him so hard. I found out later when somebody told me the awful story. It was Begam, of course. She was married off to what appeared to be a nice young man from a respectable family. But she was having difficulty getting pregnant, which, after a while, became an issue with the mother-in-law, as well as her husband. They started treating her badly. She did her part by going to every doctor in the region, every counseller, and visited every shrine she knew of. But there was no baby. So the inevitable thing happened after 3 years—her husband got a second wife. And the torture followed quickly after. She was being subjected to all kinds of humiliations and deprivations that one can think of. Starvation was one of their weapons. They would even abuse her physically. She took it all quietly. Didn't utter a word to her parents knowing full well how much it would hurt them. But a time came when she couldn't take it anymore. She had to do something to escape the torture. And she did. One morning people gathered in her backyard to find her body strung by a rope from a mango tree. I remember having seen a few hanging bodies of young housewives in my village in my childhood. Pretty common in those days. This was about the only way the poor women knew how to put an end to their suffering. Those were by far the most chilling memories of my life. I never imagined the same thing would happen to my childhood playmate, Begam, the bubbly little girl who was the most precious pet of her adoring father. Who would have thought that the girl who loved life so much would one day take it herself , not being able to bear it anymore. This is how brittle the life of a village woman is in our society.
Soon the long shadows were coming down on the hamlet. The sun was gone behind the tall trees. In my childhood this was the time I cherished most. My uncles would return from their fields. The cattle would be back to their barn. It was time to relax, unwind, to have some laughs, and to enjoy each others' company. At the harvest time the women would tend the paddy in the open court of the inner house, husk the mustard seeds, clean up the freshly picked vegetables like radish, eggplant and squash. On bumper years there would be village-wide celebrations, feasts and festivities. The boys would play all sorts of indigenous outdoor games, sometimes there would be cowraces, mock fights with wooden sticks. Mothers and grandmothers would be busy in the kitchen baking cakes and cooking rare delicacies. The poultry would feast over the freshly strewn grains in the yards. The farmer's house was full of life, brimming with joy and contentment. And a lot of gratitude to the almighty God for the bountiful crop.
But that was a long, long time ago. Deep in my memory, sunk like a wrecked ocean liner. Today, the sun was about to disappear behind the tall bamboo trees. Time for me to say goodbye. I had to go back to my own world, far, far away from where I was born, where my father and his father was born. Today the village I knew was no longer the same piece of heaven anymore. My village had suffered a lot of beating from men and nature alike. There had been a war with the Pakistani Army, there had been famines and floods, droughts and hurricanes, political unrest and violence. Today the farmer's dwelling is no longer the bastion of peace and tranquility. No bumper crops. No mangoes to pick, no jackfruits, no lychees or pineapples. And here I was, waiting for the fateful moment, to say goodbye, to go back to the airport to board the plane to a safe and prosperous world, I, an elderly affluent professor, torn between a remote past and the sight of a sad broken village, my holy shrine, sobbing like a little child in the arms of my aunt Rukeya, my favorite fupu, as if time had stood on its heels unable to move. I know I'd be gone in two days, gone from the clasp of my aunt, gone from the horror of the violent death of my playmate Begam. I'd be spared of the utter depression, the constant battle with death and disease, the morbid cycle of life they are all condemned to suffer day after day. I had lost my paradise a long, long time ago. Suddenly a sickening thought peeked in my mind: did I have a role in all this? Was I responsible for this state
of my village in some way? A deep voice rose out of the depths of my heart: yes, I was, to a large extent. I failed to give to my village even a fraction of what my village gave me. Thanks to my father's last wish I was able to learn something about myself: my village had changed, yes, of course it had, but a much greater change had occurred to me. Perhaps in a way I cannot feel mighty proud of.
Mizan Rahman, মীজান রহমান