Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Boxing classes help bullied teens build self-esteem

The new Fight Club classes at Title Boxing Club in Prairie Village, Kan., are free to teens who are being bullied, teens wanting to stand up for friends being bullied and any teen needing to let off a little steam.
These teens don't spar with each other. They spar with their feelings.
"People tried to get me to change the name to make it more accessible, but I was very determined," Reynolds said. "That was the name that came to my head, because growing up is a fight. You've got to fight to be heard, you've got to fight to be understood. Some of these kids have to fight to get themselves out of bed in the morning and drag themselves to school. It's a constant struggle.
"I thought it would give her a sense of empowerment in case she would ever need to defend herself," Beurman said. "Because part of dealing with someone who is bothering you is just knowing that you can."
"So I know from experience that … there's a better way to go rather than internalizing those emotions. It makes you mad at the world, really. And it doesn't have to be that way. There are people who care."
Bullying is such a huge problem that "we're not hoping to change the world," Reynolds said.

"Just at least create that spark."

Monday, May 21, 2012

Mutilated by burns from a fiery motorcycle accident at age 28, and then paralyzed in a
plane crash several years later, one might expect W Mitchell to be down and out today.
But instead, the Santa Barbara millionaire travels the world, sharing his story to inspire
others to take responsibility for their lives and focus on strengths, not obstacles.

"Before all of this happened to me, there were 10,000 things I could do," he told
students. "Now, there are 9,000. Sure, I could dwell on the 1,000 that I can't do. But I
prefer to think about the 9,000 that are left."

Sunday, May 20, 2012

For Today...

For today, I will embrace life.
For today, I will make the best of my circumstances
For today, I will celebrate the joy of simple things.
For today, I will learn something new.
For today, I will be a better person.
For today, I will reach out to someone in need.
For today, I will be thankful.
For today, I will dream with my eyes open.
For today I will laugh.
For today, I will encourage a friend.
For today, I will use my imagination.
For today, I will relax.
For today, I will listen.
For today, I will take time...

**(a nice motivational poster I copied from my sister)

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Chan is severely handicapped and has only one usable arm.
Even the usage of this arm is very limited.
We watched a video screening of a day in Chan’s life.
How difficult it was for him to start the day from the moment he wakes up.
Many viewers wept.
I didn’t and couldn't because I felt very ashamed.
I didn’t even have the right to cry.

Now, when the dark thoughts come for their usual rounds in the morning when I wake up, I’d think of him.
I'd picture the daily courage he has to muster to start the day.
I owe it to him and to myself to move quickly to the bathroom and get ready for my tasks of the day.
Never mind how I feel.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Excerpts from YahooNews
For five years, Claire Lomas hasn't been able to walk, hasn't been able to feel her legs. But that hasn't stopped her.
She was once a professional horse rider, her blond hair flowing underneath her white riding cap. But in 2007, a freak accident paralyzed her from the chest down.
She spent all her time in a wheelchair, at least until January. That's when she started walking again, thanks to a $75,000 bionic suit.
"It's amazing after five years of sitting down to be back on my feet," she said earlier this year, "and it's fully weight-bearing and I can walk in it as well."

"After my accident, for a few days, you think, why, why has this happened? But it has. And that's that. You just need to find new things to do," she said while on her way to a party in her honor. "Of course I have bad days and difficult times. But I just get through them, and gradually, things get better."

"Some days were more difficult than others. Yesterday particularly was tough. Felt really tired. I didn't have a great yesterday, and I knew if I stopped, I wouldn't want to get going again," she told ABC News. "But with all the support, it just helped me carry on."
And in many ways, Lomas was carrying on, even from the days before her accident. She's always thrived on difficult tasks. The last 16 days, she suggested, was just what she loves to do.

"Before my accident, I'd always had a lot of challenges," she said. "I'm that type of person. It doesn't change who you are, when you have a spinal injury and you still want to push yourself."

Wednesday, May 09, 2012

12 Symptoms of a Spiritual Awakening

1. An increased tendency to let things happen rather than make them happen.
2. Frequent attacks of smiling.
3. Feelings of being connected with others and nature.
4. Frequent overwhelming episodes of appreciation.
5. A tendency to think and act spontaneously rather than from fears based on past experience.
6. An unmistakable ability to enjoy each moment.
7. A loss of ability to worry.
8. A loss of interest in conflict.
9. A loss of interest in interpreting the actions of others.
10. A loss of interest in judging others.
11. A loss of interest in judging self.
12. Gaining the ability to love without expecting anything in return.Taken from recoverytrade

Tuesday, May 08, 2012

"Tonight's the night! The moon is specially bright!", said my new wheelchair bound friend, M.
He went down the rail very excitedly.
(Later I learnt that it was actually very risky of him to go down that way, at that speed)
I followed him.
We both looked up the sky but couldn't find the moon.
We were surrounded by very tall buildings.

He continued his search while I stayed behind.
I was very astounded by his enthusiasm.
I,with full mobility didn't have any in me to 'chase' the moon.

As I watched him from afar, I felt terribly ashamed, and guilty.
I can't explain it, but in my head, the words came... "I'm so... sorry."

Miles away, an FB friend posted this pic .
M didn't get to see the moon on his quest that night.
Am glad that I went to this camp last weekend.

Friday, May 04, 2012

Got this comment on a forum blog.
How sweet...

i think you sound like a lovely, brave, nice person. just in case you didn't already know... you are also very good at writing.

Wednesday, May 02, 2012

FB story

A NYC Taxi driver wrote:
I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware.

'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.'

'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive
through downtown?'
'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly..
'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice..'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired.Let's go now'.We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.
'Nothing,' I said
'You have to make a living,' she answered.
'There are other passengers,' I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly.
'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.It was the sound of the closing of a life..

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.