Friday, April 26, 2013

PONTIAC, Mich. (WXYZ) - They are homeless, but proving they are not powerless. Training for a half marathon is giving this unique group of runners hope for tomorrow.
They know the struggles of being homeless, But instead of focusing on despair and hopelessness, a unique group is setting their sights on a goal few achieve - running a half marathon.
For the next three months, the streets of Pontiac will be their training ground.
Each mile the runners complete, puts them one step closer to a better tomorrow.
Before the early morning run- a pep talk. Then it's time for shoes to hit the pavement.
Jeff Gibbs leads the way as a coach and mentor to the men and women that signed on for a challenge that is sure to change their lives.
Kenneth Hall says, “Half marathon, I was like ‘Oh my God’, that's far, very far, but I'm going to try.”
Scott Wiltsie says, “It's an odd thing, homeless training, for marathon, way I look at it, we are people like every other person.”
It was in the rhythm of running Jeff was able to find peace. His parents were homeless.
“After I was taken away my father died just down the road, under the tree” he says.
The runners are being sponsored, and they hope to raise additional money for area shelters.
First graders pitched in almost $500 to help pay for the running clothes. Hanson's running shop donated new shoes.
They have until June to train for The First Steps 5k and 1/2 Marathon.
But this race is about so much more than the finish line.

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Thursday, April 25, 2013

"I have a hopeful depression" Archbishop of Canterbury's daughter Katharine Welby, 26, said she often found herself consumed by a “black veil of nothing” and in her darkest moments could see “no hope in the world” and cannot stop herself from crying.
Miss Welby said she had come to understand that God loves her regardless of her state of mind and circumstances. She cited the despair felt by Job and by Jesus pleading with God in the garden of Gethsemane as biblical examples of the struggle with depression.
She said: “I have a hopeful depression. I am unafraid of my illness, I know that at times it will be unbearable, but I know in it all I am not alone. I look forward to the time when this hope is shared by the Church and all those in it suffering quietly and in fear of what their friends would say.”

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Taken from thegodmolecule Here is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.

And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song. In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child.

If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them. The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another. And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. 

And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person. You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.
Eleanor Longden: Learning from the voices in my head

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

I met a lot of new runner friends.
They were all very laid back.
Hanging out with them made my overly anxious my personality stood out too much.
This outing was overflowing with positive energy.

It gave me the same feeling as my inaugural run in 2011.

I really can be better.
I want to do better.

I really like what was written by - Mark Remy of Runner's World

I was angry, so I went for a run. And things got better.
I was confused, so I went for a run. And things got better.
I was exhausted, so I went for a run. And things got better. 
I was lost, unsure, empty, afraid. Certain that whatever was left of my sanity had snapped, had come untethered and floated away, to a place so high and remote that I would never see it again, and that even if I did, I wouldn't recognize it. So I went for a run. And things got better. 
I felt like things could not possibly get worse, so I went for a run. And things got better. 
(Another time, I felt like things could not get much better. I went for a run. Things got much better.) 
After enough miles, over enough runs and enough years, I realized: No matter what, no matter when, or where, or why, I can find my shoes and go for a run and things will get better. 
And that realization? Just knowing that? It made things better.

Monday, April 15, 2013

Alice Herz-Sommer is 109, was in a concentration camp in Terezin, and is STILL LIVING, in London.
She was interviewed by Bernard Hiller in December 2011.
Everyone Matters was struck by the power of her words - and we wanted to share with you a minute of the interview, when she's asked about the secret to feeling good. (We added musical scoring by the amazing Dexter Britain)
 "Optimism," she said, "and looking for the good. Life is beautiful. You have to be thankful that we are living..... Wherever you look is beauty."
And lastly: "I know about the bad things, but I look for the good things."

Sunday, April 14, 2013

I've been more sociable.
Though still awkward at times, but there has been significant improvement for the past 3 years.
I make the effort to speak 'positive'.

Whenever people pry about my single hood, my answer always lean to the impression that I'm 'eagerly looking but all the good guys are taken' - status.
Well, simply because that's the only way to keep the conversation 'up'.
I don't know how else to answer.
The truth -"I have too much depressive issues in me to think about anything else." - is just not a sociable answer.
Being busy is not a believable answer.
So, whenever we talk about match-making, or being set-up by friends/colleagues, I always gingerly play along.
However, whenever it turns serious, I always back down.
I'd give all sorts of excuses.
Today, when we were chatting about this topic gleefully, my facial expression awkwardly changed the moment I realised the friend was dead serious about introducing this guy to me.
I couldn't laugh anymore.
The sudden change caused the friend to misunderstand, thinking that I didn't like some aspects of the guy.
She even went on 'explaining' some stuff about the guy.
I just made up some lame excuses and didn't want to talk about it anymore.

I feel so bad.
She now thinks that I 'reject' that guy.
If only I could tell her, that I 'reject' myself.
I wish I can believe that I can be 'ok', but I'm just not.
I wrote this while I was commuting.

I am merely a breath.
Vital and brief.
So often unnoticed.

I am merely a feeling.
Genuine and impetuous.
So often betrayed.

I am merely a thought.
Noteworthy and unprocessed.
So often confused.

I am merely an intention.
Childlike and pure.
So often misunderstood.

I am but a merely.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

I was listening to my colleagues from other departments talking about their work.
I really can't imagine myself handling their workload.
True, their salary are much higher, but it sure ain't easy reaping their fruits of labour.
Some of them are even mothers to a few toddlers.
One even take on part-time work to increase her income.
When I expressed my admiration of their strength and commitment, one patted my shoulder gently,
"You are strong too."

Sunday, April 07, 2013

"In the 30 years I've been a runner I've run more than 150,000 miles. Still, some of the hardest steps I take are those first few getting out the door for daily runs."
 - Bill Rodgers