Ms Prudent

[msprudent-blog]

An invisible power of meditation

Meditation is a practice of focusing one’s mind on the surrounding in silence. It serves the purpose of relaxation of the busy mind. Usually the task is to control our mind and not let it wander around the distractions that occupy our life. So, this is what the idea of meditation is technically. The procedure is to straighten your back and take the posture, and sit in silence for about 30 minutes. After, you are calm and relaxed, you feel energetic and think it worked. Of course, it did but for how long your mind continues to be in the same state. The second you face some negative energy, you bark. Now, did the meditation really worked? Think!!

The popular idea of meditation is to sit in silence in an isolated place, so that we can keep ourselves away from the chaos. Actually I follow a different definition of the meditation. Yeah, the idea is to keep ourselves in peace but not at the cost of our social life. It is not necessary to cut off from the unwanted energies around us. The motive is to make peace with all of them, to be at peace with the company of negativity. The isolation is not mandatory, the peace of our mind is. It should reach the place where it is unaffected by all the destructive energies (whether a person or a situation you are in). Train your mind to become stronger, more peaceful, and not to be infected by the toxic surrounding. Train it to find ways to a happy life, to find meaning, to find purpose and reflect yourself on this world in your own unique way.

We are living in the generation of a marathon. We all are running, for one thing or the other and most of the people don’t find the contentment in their present lives. Being surrounded by irrelevant definition of success and fame, we run to be just like the most popular celebrity or YouTuber. Many of us don’t know what makes us happy and what doesn’t. We are less prepared to face rejections. If these are not the life’s biggest skills one should learn, then what is. If we won’t train ourselves to play the game and become better at dealing with life instead of just running after the next trending sensations, we won’t be very proud when we look back at our younger self. Through meditation, one learns to focus on becoming better every day. It is the tool to peek inside our inner self. It brings us to value more of everything that we are blessed with. It teaches us to love. If you are not loved back, it is not a sign to stop but a way to open your heart to everything that you come across, having the faith that it will be returned to you in some way. Become more of you, and become happier.

[the-book-diaries]

Depression is like a heaviness that you can’t ever escape. It crushes down on you, making even the smallest things like tying your shoes or chewing on toast seem like a 20 mile hike uphill. Depression is a part of you; it’s in your bones and your blood. If I know anything about it this is what I know: It’s impossible to escape.

Jasmine Warga, My Heart and Other Black Holes (via the-book-diaries)

its also being stuck on the shore sitting in a boat, when the day becomes night and night becomes day, but the boat can only stay on the shore.

[msprudent-blog]

Dreamy Sunday

“The thing I really want to emphasize is … when you have a dream, it doesn’t often come at you screaming in your face, 'This is who you are, this is what you must be for the rest of your life.' Sometimes a dream almost whispers. And I've always said to my kids, the hardest thing to listen to—your instincts, your human personal intuition—always whispers; it never shouts. So you have to, every day of your lives, be ready to hear what whispers in your ear.” —Steven Spielberg

[poems-and-word]

[duckduckbooks]

I either finish a book and have the next one propped over and ready to go or I wait 27 years and two wars before I start the next one. There is no in between.

[msprudent-blog]

yeah !!

[poems-and-word]

[msprudent-blog]

My Best pick

“People say that eyes are windows to the soul.” quotes an accomplished author Khaled Hosseini in his book The Kite Runner. To me, his writing was the window to the soul of his dazzling characters. He touches readers’ hearts unblemishedly with his story.

The story is set in the winter of 1975, the season for the tradition of flying kites in Kabul, Afghanistan. The protagonist, Amir, remembers the winter with bitter-sweet memories of his Baba’s mansion playing with his friend Hassan.

“To me, the face of Afghanistan is that of a boy with a thin-boned frame, a shaved head, and low set ears, a boy with a Chinese doll face perpetually lit by a harelipped smile.”

Hassan was the son of Ali, a Shi’a Muslim and a Hazara (Mogul descendents, oppressed by Pashtuns, Sunni Muslims, with an unspeakable violence), took care of Amir and his Baba. The differences between Pashtuns and Hazaras didn’t stain the friendship of Amir and Hassan. They did not share the same blood but sure they shared same fortune. Both ached for their mothers they had never met. Amir lost his mother to death during his birth and Hassan lost his mother to the fate when she ran off with Afghans. They fed from the same breasts. They took their first steps on the same lawn in the same yard. And, under the same roof, they spoke their first words.

Amir’s Baba was one of the richest merchants in Kabul. He had built a wildly successful carpet-exporting business, two pharmacies and a restaurant. He was in the way of opening an orphanage and achieving many more of such milestones despite all of the peoples’ doubts. Amir was proud of his father and his accomplishments but he was uncertain if it was the same with his father about him.

“With me as the glaring exception, my father molded the world around him to his liking. The problem, of course, was that Baba saw the world in black and white. And he got to decide.”

He loathed Hassan to have more of his Baba’s affection. Books were the escape for Amir from his father’s aloofness. But he supposed that his preference of burying his face in poetry books to hunting wasn’t something his father had envisioned. The winter brought him an opportunity with the traditional kite-fighting tournament in Kabul districts to win his father, to be his favorite.  

For kite runners, the most coveted prize, a trophy of honor, something to be displayed on a mantle, was the last fallen kite of a winter tournament. The author unveils Hassan’s flair as, “Hassan was by far the greatest kite runner I'd ever seen. It was downright eerie the way he always got to the spot the kite would land before the kite did, as if he had some sort of inner compass.” But this winter, a gloomy fate was waiting for the two naïve souls.People gather on streets shimmering with white snow under a blue sky. The kites were already hung in the sky. Hassan held the spool while Amir took control of the kite. The perfect blend of the two of them leads to cutoff the last kite left in the sky. As soon as Amir cut the string of the kite, Hassan ran after kite and Amir follows. Amir had to witness Hassan getting raped along with the victorious view of Hassan with the last kite in his hand. He kept trying to be spared of this devastating rumpus.

“I want to tear myself from this place, from this reality, rise up like a cloud and float away, melt into this humid summer night and dissolve somewhere far, over the hills. But I am here, my legs blocks of concrete, my lungs empty of air, my throat burning. There will be no floating away.”- Amir

The delinquency followed Amir all this time until the providence brings his past flashing back to him. He is brought back to the same place from where he started only in a bruised condition. Amir sees the Kabul districts wounded by the ruling Talibans. He was there with a purpose of finding Sohrab, Hassan’s son who ended up in an orphanage in Peshawar after Hassan was shot by the Talibans. Rahim Khan was the one who called Amir to take his nephew Sohrab with him which could free Amir from his delinquency. Sohrab was a slender reflection of his father. He was a hope for Amir to acquit himself from his past and succour Hassan in some way.  

“Life goes on, unmindful of beginning; end…crisis or catharsis, moving forward like a slow, dusty caravan of kochis (nomads).”

―

Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner