Did you ever witness something that made you change your perspective on life

Did you ever witness something that made you change your perspective on life?


My uncle owns a liquor store in America.
My mom used to work there when I was younger, and I would go with her.
My uncle's house was next door, so I used to just stay there and watch TV and periodically go and visit her throughout the day.

When I was about eight years old, I was there one day.
I can still remember seeing this guy's blue Camaro outside.
It was parked with the front end facing forwards, which wasn't something to be worried about at the time.

I went inside the store to see my mom.
I heard someone crying, actually wailing, but figured it was the radio, because my mom always had it on.
As I approached the counter I realized it was my mom crying.
This man turned to see me, with a look of terror on his face.
I realized he was holding a gun and pointing it in the direction of my mom.

I then figured out it wasn't the radio, but it was my mom crying like that.
My mom started screaming at me to get out of the store.
The man told me the same too.
I just stood there and wouldn't leave.

I went to the door of the store and looked outside.
I saw a man by the edge of the driveway just waiting there.
He was a regular at the store.
I remember not knowing what to do at all.

My mom had/has terrible anxiety and she couldn't open the register.
All the man wanted was money.
He kept yelling at her to open it, but she was paralyzed with fear.
After what seemed like an eternity, he took the register and slammed it on the ground.
The money came flying out.
He grabbed it, and ran out the door, and sped off in his car.

The police came and had to do investigations.
They later found that man with his blue Camaro getting high inside a hotel room.
He was a heroin addict.

This experience totally changed my life at the age of eight.
I can tell you the following things that happened.

1) I recognized how fortunate I was to have my mother in my life.
We have such an incredible bond that everyone can recognize.
I truly believe part of it was due to this traumatic experience.

2) I realized how desperate addicts are and that they would do anything to get money when needed for their high.

3) I also recognized that addicts have souls.
I can still remember the terror in that man's face when he saw me coming in.
He had no idea my mom had a child that would soon wander into the store.
In whatever way he could be, he wanted to spare me.

That's all I can really say about this subject for now.
It still is something that troubles me to this day.
That was over 20 years ago and I can remember as if it were yesterday.


A saint who lived for 90 years without medicine, without disease and little or no food :
My grandfather became a saint at 50 years of age.

He had left his family of two sons and three daughters.

We did not have any connections with him for a span of 10 years.

After that, he made a visit to our home.

With a long white beard and hair, bare body though it was the middle of December.

He stayed with us for almost a month.

When did we ask him why did he leave us?
He told us that he realized the facts that family and a lucrative job was holding him back to find the eternal truth of life.

This thought came to his mind when his brother passed away.

He thought it must not be the end.

What after that?
Where the soul goes?
Where does he go after his own death?
It took him ten years to find the answer.

He survived this entire period without any home and love of family.

He did not take any medicine during this entire period.

He mostly lived on fruits and milk without the heavy meal.

He had lived the first two years in Benaras and after that, he went to the Himalayas where he lived another seven years to practice meditation and yoga.

The initial journey wasn't easy for him.

He often got emotional and used to miss his family badly.

But with time he learnt to control his emotions.

What he had learned from the journey is an amazing tale.

He told us that most answers are within our reach.

But our mind doesn't allow us to reach that truth.

By practising meditation he has developed such powers that he can easily live without food for several weeks.

He trained his body and mind equally in a way that if he commands his mind that he had dinner then the mind tells the body that it doesn't need any food.

In order to avoid disease, he had to control his breathing system and use his body to react to its highest potential which can beat almost any kind of disease.

He told us that if we meditate two hours each day we can control our senses and mind.

He even met with his dead brother in a four-dimensional communication.
Just like telepathy.
Our mind can only help us to reach this point where we can communicate the soul who had left the world.

Also, we can gain the power to see those things which are unreachable for normal human beings.

Now guess what?
He practised meditation for 24 hours a day for 10 years.

Imagine how much power he had gained.

He told us that our body has the capacity to survive any situation.

He finally reached a point where he can feel his soul differently.

And connect his mind with it.

He told that if he hadn't left his family, he might not have been able to gain these powers.

Now all he has is peace.

A peace that can outperform any luxury in the world.

90 years with no medication, no modern facilities.

And guess what he predicted that he would die somewhere around 2008.
His great soul left his body in 2008.

He is not famous like Baba Ramdev or any Godmen in our country.
But I believe he is the true meaning of spirituality.
This man and this incident have changed my perspective on life.


It happened when I was in class 11.

I was in New Delhi visiting my Aunt’s house and that day we were going to Qutb Minar by Metro.

So we were on a metro that had picked us from Rajiv Chowk and bound for Hooda City Centre.

Halfway from the Qutb Minar Station, a boy with dismal school uniform boarded.
He looked frail and in his mid teens with underdeveloped stature and physique.
But his eyes were sharp behind his specs.

There was a sharp specification of poverty in his appearance and till then he appeared somehow the odd man out among the richly clad Delhi population in the coach.

Suddenly , in the passage between the coaches he found a place , sat down on the dirt and from his bag took out Mechanics part I by DC Pandey.

As a student of Science and belonging to a reputed school of Kolkata I knew jolly well of this book.

He opened the chapter of Projectile Motion Objective Section and started at a pace unimaginable doing all of them correct.

I was sure that he was poor and did not have money to afford tution for IITJEE but relied on his confidence and hard work fully.
Necessity calls for hard work.

Whereas I had tutions for all subjects all Physics Chemistry and Maths and still could not solve up to my expectations.
Even after that I often used to convict my teachers for my poor performances and thought of switching teachers.

Whereas this poor boy of Delhi had dreams high above the sky , much stronger than me, much more talented than me, using all that he could lay his hands on.

I don’t know what happened to him ultimately….
probably in some IIT now.

But he had taught me one thing that day :
Where there is a will
There is a way……


I realized that not all parents love their children more than anything else.

When I was in 3rd grade, I went to stay at my friend’s house for the first time.

I found it strange that the house wasn’t as large, as comfortable, and as clean as our house was.
At the time, I didn’t understand why.

As night was approaching, I noticed that nobody was asking us to come for dinner.
At about 8pm, I asked my friend when dinner would be.
He said that his family didn’t have dinner together.
His parents would eat in the living room, and he would have to go to the fridge to get whatever he needed.
And so we did.

Later on that night, we wanted to watch some TV, so we went into the living room.
When my friend asked his father if we could watch, the response he got sent shivers down my spine.
He didn’t shout, he didn’t complain about him watching too much TV, all he said was:
“Leave.

This shocked me.
How could a father say that?
Whether they do love him or not, this is no way to treat a 9 year old.
My friend never received the love he deserved or wanted.

He was only a burden to the people closest to him.
He felt unwanted.

On the other hand it made me realize how much I ought to appreciate my own family, which is an absolute opposite of my miserable friend’s.

This is why it changed my perspective on life.
Life is really, really not a level playing field.
Some are born to miserable hellholes devoid of love, while others are born to happy and prosperous families.


My life changed the week of January 22, 2018.

I have been in a battle between anxiety and depression for as long as I can remember, everyday for months prior to January 22, I wanted to end it all.
Suicide would cross my mind throughout the day, no matter who I was with or what I was doing – I simply did not want to live.

If you’ve seen the Netflix show, The End of The F**cking World – you should know that the main characters changed their appearance completely so they wouldn’t be recognized.
Jokingly, my friend and I changed our appearance because we “wanted to start a new life.
” It was an impulsive decision on my end, but I have no regrets because getting bangs was the best decision I’ve ever made.

Anyway, my friend and I planned on changing our lives.
We were sick of living the way we were – anxiety and depression consumed.
Myself especially wanted to get out more, and fight back in my war between anxiety and depression.

On January 22, my friend (who is the same friend throughout this answer, for privacy I don’t want to say his name) and I got into a fight which escalated into a deep talk.
I’ll never forget the words he said that changed me, and my perspective on life forever.
With tears in his eyes, he looked at me straight into my eyes and said, “Lauren, if you’re struggling to find purpose in life, maybe our purpose is to stay alive for each other.

I can’t explain it, but those words and his eyes filled with tears really changed everything.
Almost as if he cured me, because truthfully, I haven’t thought about suicide since then.

There’s the first half of the story, stick with me a little while longer.

My friend decided to experiment with acid which happened the night of January 22 – he claims his trip was amazing (I was there, sober, to witness most of it.
) It really opened his mind.

Flash forward a few days, January 26, 2018 I witnessed something that really changed me.

It’s possible to still trip a few days after, or even for the rest of your life.
My friend was still tripping on acid (he had been smoking / drinking throughout the week as well) January 26.

It was a crazy week for him.
He came out to his parents about his sexuality, they weren’t accepting.
He almost got suspended from school.
He had a bunch of theories (due to the acid) and he was filled with anger.
I can’t tell you how many people I witnessed him yell / cuss at throughout the week – including myself.

I’m going to cut the rest of the story short.

My father, my friend, and I were in my dad’s truck.
Murphy’s law: whatever can go wrong, WILL go wrong.
Everything was going wrong.
We were trying to figure out where we were dropping my friend off to stay for the night, but he was so overwhelmed and not in the right state of mind at all.
My friend was pushed to his limit.
Going about 25–30 mph, my best friend jumped out of my truck.
Flashbacks still race through my mind.

I get out of the truck, and there he lay, face down on the gravel.
I thought he was dead.
I go to flip him over, he was unconscious, although I really thought he wasn’t alive.
I was screaming uncontrollably, I couldn’t believe it.
My father picked up half of his body, and I got the other half, we had to force him into the truck.
At this moment, I was holding him and telling him how much I loved him.
I kid you not, it was almost as if he resurrected.
He became conscious, and he pushed me off of him.
He began to say that he was sorry, that he didn’t know why he did that.
His face was covered in blood.
The whole way to the hospital, he was being super irrational and not making much sense at all.

Once we arrived at the hospital, he made a huge scene and was screaming at the nurses to take him immediately.
They did, and that was the last I saw / heard from him for 3 weeks (which felt like an eternity.
) His family wouldn’t tell his friends anything besides that he was going to be in rehab for 6 months.
6 MONTHS?! I was a mess.
It was the hardest 3 weeks of my life, because I had no idea where he was or how he was doing.

However, I learned a lot from this incident.
It taught me not to let the small things get to me because something so tragic can happen in the split of a second that will change you forever.
It brought me closer to my family, but also made me more independent.
For the past year or so, I was with my friend everyday, it honestly felt like I didn’t have a personality of my own because I was with him so much.
Not being able to see him or talk to him made me realize that in the end, I’m alone.
This incident brought me closer to my other friends, I spent a lot of time hanging out with other people, when usually I would only hang out with my best friend.
It changed everything.

On February 18, I woke up and checked my phone.
Scrolling through all of my Snapchat notifications, I remember seeing “Whale Shit” but didn’t think much of it until I went to the bathroom and it registered in my brain.
I opened my phone as quick as possible.
It was real.
Whale Shit snapped me (you can take a guess who that is.
) I opened it up and the message said, “Guess who?.

My friend was let out of rehab two days before, and was using his old phone to text me.
I can’t begin to express the emotions I felt that morning.

Now? He’s not allowed to see me unless supervised because his parents think I’m the reason for his decisions in the past.
You know how sneaky teens are though, we’ve managed to see each other a lot.
I’ve gone to church with his family twice so far.

He’s doing much better now!! He’s missing a tiny piece of his nose due to the incident, but has a wicked scar in my opinion.
His other injuries were minor.

Life is a lot different for the both of us since January 26, 2018 but I’m a strong believer that everything happens for a reason.


Once, several years ago, I was walking alone in Downtown LA from the Union Station towards Little Tokyo for a bite to eat.
I enjoy traveling into the city on public transport and this wasn’t my first time in the area.

Although I generally try to keep to myself on these visits, my familiarity with the bus/subway system gives me the opportunity to help steer people in the right direction when they happen to be lost or confused.
It tends to happen pretty often and I try to help out however I can because I know sometimes there’s a language barrier or elderly confusion or other such problems people have with directions/locations.
At this point I’m honestly sort of used to people approaching me for this kind of help; guess I have that kind of “air” about me or whatever.

The point is, an older woman approached me one day as we waited to cross over the freeway bridge and I assumed she was going to ask me for directions of some kind.
I remember how kind but tired she looked.
I remember the wrinkled, suntanned skin of her arms and the worn old-lady shoes in which she shuffled across the street.
We chatted in Spanish and I learned she was looking for the prison (the Metropolitan Detention Center is nearby).
Not one to judge or pry, I confirmed the direction of the prison, assuming that she was trying to visit someone there.
I found it easy to say, almost as an afterthought, that I believed the entrance was on the other side of the street and perhaps she should cross here at the crosswalk (so she wouldnt have to try to jaywalk across when she got to it).

She laughed airily and told me not to worry.
“My son is being kept in that building,” she said, “and I’m not allowed to visit him, but he says if I stand just across the street here he can see me from a crack in one of the windows.

[picture from google images]
Her words were jarring, like a plot twist in a movie; they caught me so off guard that I could do nothing but nod in dumbfounded understanding.
I felt such a shift in perspective at that moment, that there were people in the world -in my world- living through such a bizarre situation.
Nothing that had happened so far in my life could compare to the hardship that this woman was living, standing alone on the sidewalk waving at a stone building, hoping that somewhere inside, her son might be looking back at her.
I felt so detached from this type of world, so small in the face of such a situation.

I don’t know if, technically speaking, it was even possible for her son to see her or not from those “windows.
” I did not argue or question her logic at all; she thanked me with a polite smile and I just bid her a good afternoon and left.

The very sight of the prison still reminds me of this woman.
To this day, the memory haunts me a little every time I pass this street.


There was a girl at my high school (For anonymity sake I’ll refer to her as Mary) who got killed sophomore year due to a drunk driver.
She was out bowling with friends one night and was behind the wheel of the car when they got struck.
She was killed instantly.

I didn’t know her.
Didn’t see her around campus.
Never spoke to her.
All I saw was the memorial they had of her in the middle of campus the next day.

As I walked by the memorial, I saw this older woman just bawling her eyes out right in front of Mary’s memorial.
I’m not ENTIRELY sure, but I had a solid hunch this was Mary’s mom.

The pain and agony on her face was unbearable, but I couldn’t look away.
It’s almost like I could see how much she loved her daughter, by watching her misery in that moment.

She didn’t wipe her tears or look to other people for condolences.
Her eyes were locked straight ahead at the picture of her daughter with a ring of flowers surrounding the frame.

Seeing this didn’t give me some euphoric realization about the inevitability of death.

However, I did feel this incredible urge to just be careful.
I was raised by a single mom and everyday before I’d leave the house she’d tell me to stay safe out there.
I heard it so much that I thought it was a throw away line but I was finally seeing the repercussions of a parent losing their child.

Prior to that day, the greatest pain I witnessed was during a death scene in movies when a talented actor would hold their loved ones as they slowly drifted away.

The expression on the mom’s face that day put those world class actors to shame.
It was so raw and stoic.
The ultimate mix of sadness and rage.
Despair and acceptance.
Love and regret.
There’s a saying which goes there’s no greater pain in life than the pain of losing a child.
After that day I firmly believe it.

In life it’s easy to feel small, unimportant and inconsequential sometimes.
But that’s not the case.
Your life is precious so be wary of the company you keep, decisions you make and urges in your head.
Life is delicate and above all else, interwoven with everything.

Mary’s mom felt a type of pain that day I hope no one will ever have to endure.


Yes.
It happened to me a few months ago.

I was worried about my family's financial condition.
I felt stressed and disturbed as hell.
So, I stopped going to college, didn't meet anyone, I spent most of my time either alone or teaching others.

My friends called me for a movie.
I instantly said NO.
One of my friend came to my house, tried to cheer me up.
I didn't.
He continuously asked about the problem, but I was too firm to tell him.
Then because of his consistency, I told him the reason.

He smiled and said that
"everybody has a problem going on in his life.
And it seems huge to him.
But.
By worrying about it, it won't get solved.
We must try solving it, keeping faith in god.
Even in Gita, it's written that whatever happens, happens for good.
"
I got furious at him.
I scolded him that its easy for you to smile and give advice as he is not the one who has problems and if he steps into my shoes, he would understand.
But for now, he must keep the s**t in his a**.

Then he told me something which made me feel guilty.
He told me that his father died a week ago.
And he doesn't think that my condition is worse than his.

When I enquired from other students of my class then they told me that nothing has been unusual about him.
He had just come back from his home.
So he is really happy.

P.
S.
- I realized that everyone has a problem but, crying or worrying is not the solution.
Face the problem with a smile and have faith in God.


There's so much I can say here.

I can talk about the time I worked in Kansas City with Teach For America, and a student told me about how her torso was cut from a stray bullet.
Men had been fighting in front of her grandmother's house, and they started shooting after it escalated.
Let's just say I didn't have to worry about that when I grew up in a nice suburb outside of Des Moines.

I can also talk about having gone to college believing that I understood the world around me–that I knew what wealth was–only to encounter foreign students whose parents owned entire industries in other countries.
Or how I've encountered folks whose parents had groomed them from a young age to run for office.
I can also talk about people who can fall flat on their face and step right into a luxurious career because of who they know.
To then watch folks bitch and gripe about unions as if those people are living it up by making marginally more money–well, let's just say they're missing the point entirely.

I can also talk about the fact that one of the least capable, least intelligent, and most small-minded students at my university (who, I'm told, was forced to take remedial writing classes in law school) is now a representative in my state's government.
She contributes to decisions that affect all of us.
Go figure.

But all of that sounds so typical.

Instead, I want to talk about something that's more important: my perspective on aging.

Last year, after I finished a local triathlon, I sat next to an old man during the awards ceremony.
This particular race required that our age was written on our right calf in permanent marker, and I noticed that his said "71".
I also noticed him on the course, and I was impressed with his running ability.

"So how long have you been doing this?" I asked.

"I've done over a hundred triathlons since the late eighties," he replied.

We continued talking, and he started to tell me a bit of his story.

"The trick at my age," he said, "is to avoid falling.
I can do the swimming, cycling, and running just fine, but what gets people is when they fall.
I'm too old to do that.
"
Now I'd always known that older folks participate in endurance sports, but this example stuck with me for a reason.
It wasn't long before this that my stepfather suffered a severe heart attack.
He collapsed into the passenger side of my car after we left the gym, and fortunately I was there to save him.
I immediately called EMS, pulled him away from the car, and held his head up after it looked like he was choking.
The entire debacle made me think long and hard about my future and my well-being.

I think we have this idea that aging is synonymous with poor health–with getting fat,  becoming immobile, and taking so much medication that you need a damn tackle box to store and organize it.
In the hospital, I watched people coming in and out who had just let themselves go.
They'd just stopped giving a damn.
People even took the elevator down to a McDonald's of all places (yeah, in a hospital), and purchased the very things that contribute to lifestyle diseases.

Soon thereafter, I took a job at an upscale restaurant to make some extra money.
And I watched as old folks shuffled in with this sideways waddle–struggling just to move.
Now of course some people may have been injured or dealing with the results of unfortunate accidents, but many were grossly overweight.
They shuffled in and slumped into the booths where they ordered porterhouse steaks, asked for a second basket of bread, downed sugary sodas, and ordered appetizers full of fried stuff.
In short, they consumed more calories in a single meal than I ate in an entire day.

All of this compounded to make me feel like I was surrounded by insanity.

But I started to pay attention to folks like the man I met at the triathlon.
I started to notice that getting old doesn't mean becoming sick, fat, and immobile.
Obviously there are things that you can't control–such as sudden illnesses and the like–but for the most part, it's your choice if you want to be that way or not.

You can choose to be an old man who's in better shape than most twenty-year-olds, or you can choose to be the old man who has to ride a motorized scooter whenever he walks further than the distance from the car to the house.

It's all about the quality of life we want for ourselves.
I hope I'm not being naive, but I choose to be someone who's capable of movement if I live that long.

I don't want to spend my later years confined to a chair.
I want to show people that there's a better way.

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This happened about three years ago when I was pursuing the third year of my undergraduate course.
I was part of an NGO which was founded by one of my seniors in the college.
We usually used to go to orphanages to provide some financial help that we could and spend some time with the children there.
But this particular one is close to my heart and did leave an indelible impression on my mind.

We went to a place called Melmaruvathur (around 90 km from Chennai, India).
This time too we went to an orphanage, but the stark difference was that all the kids there were suffering from AIDS.
The worst part, their ages ranged from 1-15 years.
All of them had been abandoned by their parents due to one reason or the other.
The caretaker of that particular home gave us a brief idea about what their mission was and the steps that they took on a continual basis to take utmost care of the kids.
We were told about the common stereotypes surrounding people who tested HIV positive and how were they were stigmatised and considered outcasts.
(Unfortunately, this is still prevalent).
The kids, being vulnerable due to their weak immune systems, had to be given nutritious food and medicine every single day.

Then, we spent the entire day with the kids.
We played, sang, danced and ate with them.
All through these activities, a lot of things were running on my mind.
The kids below the age of 10 were oblivious to their condition, but the older kids were aware of the gravity of their situation.
In spite of that, they had indomitable spirits.
It was quite evident in the way they took care of the other kids like their own siblings with an incredible level of maturity and it totally humbled us.
When we were about to leave in the evening, the little kids kept asking us to spend more time with them.
One of them (named Mani, can never forget his name!) hugged me and literally pleaded me to stay.
I could not face him in the eye, but just lied that I would be coming the next day with more candies specially for him.
I do lie, but that lie is probably one of which I regret the most.

On our way back to Chennai, all of us were silent.
I was (and probably my friends too) recounting the entire experience.
“Life is short, make it sweet” is a quote that probably most people know but fail to recognize.
The level of mental fortitude shown by the elder kids in that home despite them being aware of their fleeting life is something that I hope to emulate.
I was ashamed my previous self who used to whine over trivial issues and felt like the luckiest person for having loving parents who provided me with more than what I asked for.
Though there are several incidents that shaped my life, that particular day made me realize the invaluable value of life and the how to make the most of the time that’s available to us and be grateful for whatever we have, more than anything else, and provided me with a whole new perspective on life.


Here's something i'm sharing, something simple enough to get unnoticed and yet nothing less than an eye-opener.
It’s a true incidence-
It wasn't a smooth day in college when everything falls in place for you.
In fact, it wasn't even a mediocre one.
Some work was not getting done as I had planned, one of the results weren't really morale boosting and a little annoying act by one of my class-mate resulted in retaliation.
To get my mind off those things I took my bicycle and went to the market with innumerable things running inside simultaneously.
While on my way, all of a sudden my eyes fell on something.

To a regular eye, it was just a group of friends, 5 or maybe 6, sitting in a circle outside a tea-stall and having fun.
I slowed down because I saw something much more than that group.
Out of those, there was a guy, who was moving his hand animatedly as if carving words out of his hand and his face as cheerful as it can get.
His friends could understand exactly what he was trying to convey and even responded back in the same hand-carving-words way.
I waited for a while, watching them with utmost interest and then left.
To me, what was more amusing than their conversation and the way they did it was the smile on his face in spite of the apparent disability he had.
He was deaf and dumb.

There was a sudden realization-it wasn't him having any disability, it was me.
In spite of what he wasn't capable of doing, he still managed a smile.
On the other hand, we people have everything, and yet small troubles find a way to hamper our happiness.
How easily we get depressed, cursing our lives and comparing it with ones who seem happier than going the other way round.
I can’t say it changed my life forever, but it did make a mark.
And I could get my head clear of all that garbage and manage a smile.


Not me.
.
the entire world witnessed this.
And no one could do anything but stare at their TV stes in complete horror!
I'm talking about these.
.

Can you see the grief on her face? Not her face.
.
it's visible in her entire being.
The way she's looking at that corpse.
It's unresponsive.
.
and will never ever respond again.
I cannot describe how I feel when I look at this picture.

Wondering what happened? This is the mother of a student who succumbed to his injuries in the Peshavar massacre2014 Peshawar school massacre – Wikipedia
Do I need to say anything? Is there anyone who can pay back what is lost here? Not a life.
.
humanity is lost.

Have you ever fallen in love? Your heart will break into a million pieces at this one.
.
mine does.

Is that a tear drop in his eyes? Yes!
How can I forget the child you didn't even understand yet that he won't get to actually 'tell everything to God!'
There are many more all over the internet.
But I guess my point is made.
Anything can happen at anytime in life.
We have no control.
Looking at these disastrous pictures made me change my prespective for life.
I started to not take things for granted.
I realized that my problems are very small and solvable.
Theirs aren't.
And you know the funny part? According to research, we're living in the most peaceful decade in about a century.
.
look!
The graphic above has been created using data from the Human Security Report Project, Uppsala Conflict Data Project, Peace Research Institute of Oslo, and shows the startling decrease in worldwide violence that has taken place over the past century.
Source[1]
Image source – Google.

I wonder what the 1940s used to be like.
.

Thank you for reading! :)
Spread smiles.
.


It’s not a Big Secret – to get bored when you have an exam the very next day.

As usual, my Quora feed and Youtube screams for my attention; undoubtedly I gave in with no choice.

And that’s when I came across this particular video featuring about a girl.

A girl, who is probably of my age, young and vibrant, with a power to color all her dreams.

Due to the impulsive decision and emotional trauma, she attempted suicide with a shotgun.

The bullet didn’t cost her life, indeed stole more than that.

Her face.

Miraculously she was saved from the worst brain trauma, but her face was disfigured.

A face isn’t just about the looks and our personality.
Our face expresses even our fleeting emotions and let’s us experience the world.
But she lost hers at 18.

She didn’t stop there, whilst she went through a two dozen surgeries.

Her doctors patched and repaired her face.
They created a face out of her thigh flesh and part of her Achilles’ tendons.

Her calendar is filled with doctor’s appointments, rehab sessions, acupuncture, nutritionist, massage, personal trainer, spiritual and healing services.

Indeed with the most skilled reconstructive plastic surgery, she found herself behind the masks and scarves.
She was uncomfortable with the whispers from strangers.

But a miracle tiptoed into her life.

She finally gonna get a new face.

After three years of struggle, distress and despair, she went for a face transplant.

The surgeons transplanted the new face on her, screwed her bones, stitched her blood vessels and nerves and tried to preserve her features.

She didn’t have any rejections, overtime her face will regain function.

While her parents, held on to their lives, relying on faith and stood with her.

She is a voluntary human research project.

She is the youngest face transplant recipient.

She is an epitome of hope and determination.

She is Katie Stubblefield.

I get a second chance at life now.
This is the beginning of another chapter”

I didn’t witness it personally.
But I could able to feel the layers of pain and hopelessness she went through.

It's just a speck of a moment, which completely turned the tides of her life.
Maybe just 20 seconds.

To those in the grips of depression and suicidal thoughts, lending an ear would prevent their pain.
Rather than tending to solve their problem, I feel that we have to listen, truly listen to them.

It also made me realise that whatever life can throw, maybe we would not walk the same degree as hers.
But it is our cue to hold on to it or to transform it into something beautiful.


Life should be all about happiness because nobody enjoys being frustrated or sad.
So let’s talk about something which will change your perspective towards life.
A step towards happiness.

In day to day life you meet thousands of people and each of them is with different mind-sets.
I’m very happy that I understood; each of them enters to your life to teach you that how you can make your life better.
Some of them teach you that how badly someone can use you and some of them teach you that how someone can be loyal to you beyond any limits.
I took a very long time to understand these things so let’s talk about something that have changed my perspective towards life.

A moment comes to everyone’s life when you think that everything is been finished, Nobody cares who you are, Nobody cares what you are going through, Nobody wants to talk to you until they want something from you, Not getting what to do next, Future seems blur and many more similar thoughts.
Then you feel alone and start blaming society, and at same moment you start remembering that how some people are using you.
.
but you don’t want to fight with those people because you already have very few people in your circle.
Believe me dear, time changes and with each heartbeat of your wristwatch new people are ready to enter in your life, you just need to allow them.
So never hesitate to move from somewhere you aren’t comfortable.
I know at this stage you are frustrated with what society has paid you and you decide to not allow new people to enter in your life but something you don’t know is; these new people are only beings who introduce you to some new experiences and allow you to get known to happiness.

Every one of us has a “go to person”.
Usually in these kinds of moods you prefer to talk to them and tell them how bad the society is.
And your that trust worthy person try to convince you that he/she will be always there for you and try to take you calm down.
.
I have spent my whole teenage in doing the same stuff & at this stage of TWENTY I have understood what the key of happiness is.
.

Look, everyone has their priorities and your rank in the list really matters for you.
The problem begins when you start thinking that your rank in someone’s priority list is decreasing day by day, It matters for you and at this moment you starts thinking that people are using you.
One thing you should understand my dear is, “Someone can use you only if you allow him/her to use you” The problem begins when you start expecting from the society.
Definitely the society isn’t that much good that it will fulfil your each expectation.
And now, this lack in fulfilment of your expectations results in your feeling of being alone.

Try to find happiness in small things and first of all stop expecting from anyone around.
The more you try to be happy & try to express your happiness, more the people will attract towards you and will try to find out what is the reason of your happiness.
.
Here what to do? Just don’t reveal the secrets of your happiness.
Let people end up thinking that what might be the reason of his/her happiness and my friend believe me you will start living a life you were dreaming about!!
Stay happy, Stay connected!!
#life #experiences #hapiness #society


It wasn't something I witnessed per se, but it caused a 180 in my life.
The bullet points are the shortened backstory.

Shortly after I healed I was put in a psych ward.
After a couple of days there I was escorted into a room and was shocked to turn the corner and see my parents sitting next to each other.
I sat down and they asked “why did you do it?”.
I laid my head on the table in front of me and wept.
They each reached out a hand and placed it gently on my arm.
At that moment I could see a fork in the road of my life: left was friends and drugs and “free” happiness, the road ended with a tombstone with my name on it.
The right had hard work and disappointment and minimum wage, that road ended with me standing triumphant over life’s inevitable obstacles.

Now days I'm a successful 32 yr old man who scrimped to buy property and has survived the housing bubble, made a risky move to NYC in 2008 in pursuit of work and did well, started a business in 2010 and cleaned up, and I am now in discussions to become a VP at a Fortune 500 company in Manhattan.
I'm working my way to be able to stand tall against the outcome life once had planned for me.

I should have died when I was 17.
I live life like this is my second chance, because it is.


In 2002 I found myself sitting on the front porch of an apartment.
I had just spent the last 24 hours getting so high on crack cocaine that I had been hallucinating.

Rewind to 1999.
I was a church going honor student who moved to a small town with my family from the only home I had ever known.
I had to leave my friends, my school, and the city I grew up in to live in a small rural town because the factory that my step-father worked at was relocated.

I lost interest with school when I forfeited credits because the school didn't offer the classes I had been attending all year.
I had to make new friends as a high school student.
It did not take long for me to begin smoking cigarettes and snorting cocaine with my new found friends.
I began skipping school and partying with everyone.
I dropped out my senior year because I became pregnant and wanted to save myself the embarrassment.
Although many of the students at this school were parents and some were on their second pregnancy.

I met a man 8 years my senior and moved in with him.
He accepted my pregnancy with another guy, but he is also the one who introduced me to crack only 2 months after my baby was born in 2001.
He also quickly became physically and emotionally abusive.
I quickly fell into addiction.
Within a year I found myself on that front porch previously mentioned.

I had lent my car out to a dealer for drugs in return and he dropped me off at this apartment with many elderly men who were spending their entire government checks on crack.
As I sat there high on this porch not knowing what was going to happen next, a different dealer came up and sat next me.
I had bought from him many times before and he knew my boyfriend from prison.
He asked me so frankly, "What are you doing here?" and then spoke the words I will never forget.
.
.
"You are too good for this, you need to be at home with your family.
"
A crack dealer giving life advice.

After he left I walked up to an undercover police car that had been sitting in the parking lot and with tears running down my face I asked if he would take me home.

Within a week I left my abusive boyfriend and went into rehab.
I have lived the last 14 years crack free.
I received my Bachelor of Science in 2011 after 7 years of school (because going to college with children takes time) and I now have 4 beautiful children and a great husband who truly supports me.

I have to thank the heart of that crack dealer for helping turn my life around.
You never know who will be there for you in times of need.


This incidence happened when I was about 10 years old.

It was Ganesh Chaturthi (a popular Hindu festival).
The shopping complex association in my colony had arranged a cultural night followed by a communal prayer.

The entire colony was present including the families of maids and near by construction workers.
These people belonged to the economically weak strata of the society.

After a few performances by the colony kids, the main act of the night arrived on the stage.
A magician!
After a few tricks he put a bonsai tree on the stage.

Magician: Kids, guess which fruit grows on this tree?
Kid 1: Orange!
The magician puts a cloth around the tree and lo and behold! There were real oranges on the tree.
The magician plucked one and gave it to kid 1.

Magician: Someone else wants to guess?
The magician points towards an excitedly waving kid.

Kid 2: Apple!
The magician puts a cloth around the tree and lo and behold! There were real apples on the tree.
  The magician plucked one and gave it to kid 2.

Growing confident.
the magician saw a small kid in rags, sitting silently in the last rows.
He pointed to him and asked, "Which fruit do you think grows on this tree?"
The kid replied,"Roti" (Roti:- Indian flat bread)
The magician asked again,"I'm looking for a fruit, son.
Which FRUIT do you think grows on this tree?
The kid replied again,"Roti".

The magician flustered and shouted back on the kid,"Abe, tere baap ne kabhi ped pe roti ugti dekhi hai kya?" (Translation:- Has your father even seen a "roti" growing on a tree?)
The kid looked embarrassed now.

Years later I still can't forget it.
The kid who just wanted a piece of flat bread.


I lost a finger in a freak accident while I was working in retail as a teenager.
At the time, it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.
I was in the hospital for a month while they tried to reattach it, and they assigned me to the burn unit because they wanted to keep my body at a certain temperature while I was regrowing my circulatory system.

Despite the fact that the injury was limited to a single finger, I was not allowed to leave my bed.
I had a fear of needles, and they took my blood every few hours.
Because one arm was off-limits, they quickly ran out of easy veins and by the end of my stay were drawing blood from my fingers.
I had to put a new leach on my injured finger every 2 hours to keep the blood inside it circulating.
No one in my family came to see me (I had moved across the country the previous year).
After three weeks, my finger turned black and curled up, and they had to remove it again.
I had a lot of reasons to feel sorry for myself.

My roommate for the majority of my stay had third-degree burns all over her face and neck from where a camping lantern had flared up and set her on fire.
She was going to be permanently disfigured.
The pain was so intense it often made her throw up.
Unfortunately, her pain medication also made her throw up.
Her family didn’t come to see her either.

She was one of the most cheerful people I’ve ever met.
She told me every day how happy she was to be alive.
Seeing her put in the work to be happy, when she had been given so many reasons to be sad or angry, and realizing what her positivity meant to me when I was feeling low, permanently changed my perspective on life and what it means to be lucky.


Less than 48 hours after having a surgery to fix my femur I broke after falling 109' into a precipice (more on this story here: Xavier Morin's answer to Do you have a habit that saved your life?) I had two things happen to me that shifted my perspective on humanity.

I had tickets for a Metal concert (Disturbed) I had bought before my accident that no one could take last minute, so I started to listen to some of the songs that would play and decided to go even if I was on painkillers.

When I arrived at the amphitheater, as you'd expect, the security personnel was very courteous and escorted me to the elevator so I would avoid going up and down the stairs with my crutches.

Then as I was walking in a crowd that became denser and denser, people were more agitated and I was afraid that someone would hit my leg by accident.
I thought to myself, I can't blame them, no one here except my friends know that I could have died 48 hours ago.
Then another thought crossed my mind, that some of them too could have lived troubeling experiences in the past and that it didn't show, so I had no right to judge other people not knowing what they have been trough.

Then a powerful thing happened.
I went up to my seat, 5th row, center, facing the stage and sat down.
The show started and everyone in the Stadium stood up and remained that way during the whole show… EXCEPT the people seating in my row and the 4 others below me! I couldn't beleive it, was it because they had seen me come up the stairs? I don't know! But what I do know is that everyone behind us was standing up and that nobody in front of us did.
That was untill I decided to stand up for the last songs, feeling I owed this to the people in front of me.
Everyone stood up! It was a very powerful moment that totally changed my perception towards life and mankind in general.
We are still capable of doing good albeit all the bad we witness everyday in our lives and in the medias.


“You are so stupid”, said my father to my mum.

This happened a few years back, but lingers in my mind until now.
My father has just found out that mum agreed for my sister to not attend her graduation day.

I understood my father’s perspective; he did not get to graduate because he was skipping exams to join politics.
My mother on the other hand was simple; if that is what you want, that is what you get.
As long as it does not land you into trouble.
Except that this time, it landed my mum into trouble.

They were married for more than 30 years.
My mother is always the better partner; more hardworking, more stable financially.
But she is the wife and in our culture the wife is always "lower" than the husband.
The fact that my mum just fell silent when he muttered those words in my presence emotionally shattered me, as if she submitted to his power and authority.

That incident clouded my judgment for years to come.
It reminded me of the way my mum has almost single-handedly raised all 5 of us when my father was always on the move or staying miles away or was jobless.
It led to my own self-discovery and acknowledgement.
It changed my mind completely about life, marriage and happiness.

The long term marriage does not signify harmony.
Staying in a relationship does not mean you are happy.
A good person does not always get good treatment.

People say bad behaviour stays for life, I say "change now".
Change now, because nobody should be tolerating bad behavior.
And for this very reason, some people should stay out of relationship.

P/s: love thy mother.
She is the heart of a family.


This happened when I was 16 years old living in Poland.
My friends and I bought these amazing tickets to a reggae festival in Wrocław, a distant city that was about 6-8 hours away by train from where I lived.
 
When I was leaving the house, it was still dark.
Our train was scheduled to leave at 6 am.
Still half sleeping, I called a taxi, ran downstairs with my backpack, and hopped into the cab.
Upon arrival to the train station, I realized I forgot my tickets.
I panicked.
I really wanted to go to this concert.
The tickets are pricey.
I have only 20 min before the train leaves.

The same cab driver took me back to my home.
I ran up the stairs, found my tickets resting on the table, locked the door, ran downstairs, hoped into the taxi, and said: “To the train station, please!”
It was before 6 am and hardly no traffic.
We saw one car heading the opposite direction on the two-way road.
There was an older guy crossing the road and that car hit him.
It looked like the old fellow bounced off from the car like a ball and flew 2-3 meters in the air.

The taxi driver and I were shocked.
We didn’t know what to do and we were driving in silence for 30 seconds.
A classic example of the bystander effect.

“We need to call the ambulance.
” I said while having a thunderstorm of thoughts and feelings.
We need to stop and help.
Nobody was on that street.
We are the only witnesses
.
But this reggae concert.
I was waiting months for this day to happen and bought all the tickets and lodging.
If I help, I'll miss the train.

The cab driver nodded.
I pulled out my phone and dialed“999” (the emergency number in Poland) and we proceeded to drive to the train  station.

“Hi, we witnessed a older guy get hit by a car on Zwycięstwa Street next to the supermarket.
” I said.

“OK.
Is the victim responsive? Is he breathing?” The lady asked.

“Ummm, I don’t know.
We just saw what happened.
” I added.

“So you didn’t stop to check? Did someone witness this?” She asked in disbelief.

I paused.

“Next time when you are the only one that witnesses an accident, the right thing to do is to stop and help.
We are sending somebody now.
Bye.
” The lady said and hung up the phone.

I felt terrible.
What’s worse, participated in a“First Aid Training” class, so I do how to react to an accident.
I made a conscious decision to go to the concert instead of to stop and help.
When I came back from the concert, I was going through the local newspapers to see, if there was anything about that accident (it’s a small town and usually they’d write about it).
I found nothing.
From that day, I promised myself to stay always active and responsive to any accident.
So far, I've kept my promise.


This calendar! It shows your life in weeks.

For a moment you think what is so special in it and then suddenly you realize, that’s your complete life staring right at your face.

If you still have not got a new perspective to your life here is some food for thought.

Another way, in which the author of the article used this calendar.

Look at how things look so simple on it.

Sometimes life seems really short, and other times it seems impossibly long.
But this chart helps to emphasize that it’s most certainly finite.
Those are your weeks and they’re all you’ve got.

Given that fact, the only appropriate word to describe your weeks is precious.
There are trillions upon trillions of weeks in eternity, and those are your tiny handful.

Here is a nice analogy that I am borrowing from the place where I saw this calendar first[1].
Find the link in the footnotes.

Let’s imagine that each of your weeks is a small gem, like a 2mm, .
05 carat diamond.
If you multiply the volume of a .
05 carat diamond by the number of weeks in 90 years (4,680), it adds up to just under a tablespoon.

Looking at this spoon of diamonds, there’s one very clear question to ask: “Are you making the most of your weeks?”
Now, There are two good ways to use a diamond:
1) Enjoying the diamond
2) Building something to make your future diamonds or the diamonds of others more enjoyable
In other words, you have this small spoonful of diamonds and you really want to create a life in which they’re making you happy.
And if a diamond is not making you happy, it should only be because you’re using it to make other diamonds go down better—either your own in the future or those of others.
In the ideal situation, you’re well balanced between #1 and #2 and you’re often able to accomplish both simultaneously (like those times when you love your job).

Of course, if a diamond is enjoyable but by enjoying it you’re screwing your future diamonds, that’s not so good.
Likewise, if you’re using diamond after diamond to build something for your future, but it’s not making you happy and seems like a long-term thing with no end in sight, that’s not great either.

But the worst possible way to use a diamond is by accomplishing neither #1 nor #2 above.
Sometimes “neither” happens when you’re in either the wrong career or the wrong relationship, and it’s often a symptom of either a shortage of courage, self-discipline, or creativity.
Sometimes “neither” happens because of a debilitating problem.

We’ve all had Neither Weeks and they don’t feel good.
And when a long string of Neither Weeks happens, you become depressed, frustrated, hopeless, and a bunch of other upsetting adjectives.
It’s inevitable to have Neither Weeks, and sometimes they’re important—it’s often a really bad Neither Week that leads you to a life-changing epiphany—but trying to minimize your Neither Weeks is a worthy goal.

The Life Calendar
One of the ways we end up in NeitherLand is by not thinking about things hard enough—so one of the most critical skills is continual reflection and self-awareness.
Otherwise, you can fall into an unconscious rut and waste a bunch of precious diamonds.

The life calendar is a reminder of the grid of empty boxes staring at you in the face is yours.
We tend to feel locked into whatever life we’re living, but this pallet of empty boxes can be absolutely whatever we want it to be.
Everyone you know, everyone you admire, every hero in history—they did it all with that same grid of empty boxes.

The boxes can also be a reminder that life is forgiving.
No matter what happens each week, you get a new fresh box to work with the next week.

Each blank box is an opportunity to crush the week—a good thing to remember.

Here I am leaving you with what I started this answer.
Reflect about what you just read.

Thanks for reading :).
If you liked the answer, you can appreciate it by pressing the upvote button.


As a university student renting my own place, it was common to hear me say things like "I can't go out too much this weekend, I'm too poor!" or "I wish I could buy that new dress, but I'm too poor!".
These statements were often followed with a chuckle or a knowing sigh from other students who shared in the struggle of limited financial capability.

In 2014 I travelled around and lived in Ghana for two months, while doing an internship at the office of a Ghanaian national newspaper.

When I saw a limbless man lying in a gutter on the side of a busy highway, begging for coins, I realised I was not poor.

When I saw young children playing in the utter filth of a slum town, playing with rubbish and scraps near smoldering piles of burnt plastic, I realised I was not poor.

When a tro-tro driver (with a bus full of passengers) had the floor of his vehicle fall out while in motion, I watched him simply jump out, and with no other choice, provide a dangerous makeshift solution to the damage and continue with the journey.
.
.
and I realised I was not poor.

When I looked into the haunted eyes of a man as he recollected the horrors of a poverty-ridden childhood, spent living in a cockroach infested shanty completely exposed to the elements, I realised I was not poor.

And that I had never been poor.
  And that I would never experience that depth of poverty as I had witnessed every day during my time spent in Ghana.
Even more so, I realised I was actually wildly monetarily rich in comparison.

But what changed my perspective on life even more so was that, despite all the awful poverty I witnessed, this did not seem to destroy the Ghanaian people's ability to smile and help a foreign stranger, to dance and play music on the streets until late into the night, and to maintain their strong, proud community spirit.

I came back home with a much deeper understanding and appreciation, not only of my monetary wealth and privilege, but of the extreme importance of friendship and family support.


Did you ever witness something that made you change your perspective on life?


Based on a true life story….
.

A family member once told me getting rich is not worth it and that money is the root of all evil.
We were not all that rich in my family but we were doing averagely okay.

One day I followed my mom for a monthly checkup she usually go for with my dad ( although my dad travelles so he didn't go with us) I heard the doctor tell someone that they needed $20k for a medical treatment and the first thing I heard the man scream was “where would I get such money from?” What crossed my mind was that if they where rich he wouldn't even think twice before paying.
From that they I knew money was good.
It's not even in anyway, it only magnifies who you really are.
Besides I noticed the family member that told me that was very lazy and came to my dad always to beg for money.

After college I decided not to get employed by anyone and be self employed.
So I took my parents blessings and left the house.

I started living alone and This is my room before the money started to rolled in.

And this is me right now infront of my own house.

It’s better to feel bad or be heart Broken by your lover and and feel sad about it sitting in a Lamborghini than a public transport.
I know what rich is and I know what it's like to be poor which includes having no choice, being restricted from going to places and it goes on and on.
Sitting in that one bedroom apartment, I was always frustrated, bed bug and many other uncomfortable things.

I learnt to trade binary options for about 2 years which was very stressful as I didn't want to be the $100 a day trader, I wanted to be making 4–5 figures daily which I achieved.

Here is my IQ Option trading account
And my Binarymate trading account.

I also trade for clients (most of this rich guys you see are wise and they invest behind the scenes with experts investors) but that is private.

Getting rich is totally worth it.

This me my view right now as I'm writing this post
Don't let anybody deceive you that money or getting rich is not good.
You'll know money is good when your doctor gives you a $20k bill.

Besides only a lazy person doesn't work.
If you're hardworking and smart you would make a lot of money.
If you love your family, you'll make a lot of money to make them happy.
If you're hardworking and you make a lot of money and you feel getting rich is not good, then give the money to the needy, the less priveledged and vulnerable people out there.


A saint who lived for 90 years without medicine, without disease and little or no food :
My grandfather became a saint at 50 years of age.

He had left his family of two sons and three daughters.

We did not have any connections with him for a span of 10 years.

After that, he made a visit to our home.

With a long white beard and hair, bare body though it was the middle of December.

He stayed with us for almost a month.

When did we ask him why did he leave us?
He told us that he realized the facts that family and a lucrative job was holding him back to find the eternal truth of life.

This thought came to his mind when his brother passed away.

He thought it must not be the end.

What after that?
Where the soul goes?
Where does he go after his own death?
It took him ten years to find the answer.

He survived this entire period without any home and love of family.

He did not take any medicine during this entire period.

He mostly lived on fruits and milk without the heavy meal.

He had lived the first two years in Benaras and after that, he went to the Himalayas where he lived another seven years to practice meditation and yoga.

The initial journey wasn't easy for him.

He often got emotional and used to miss his family badly.

But with time he learnt to control his emotions.

What he had learned from the journey is an amazing tale.

He told us that most answers are within our reach.

But our mind doesn't allow us to reach that truth.

By practising meditation he has developed such powers that he can easily live without food for several weeks.

He trained his body and mind equally in a way that if he commands his mind that he had dinner then the mind tells the body that it doesn't need any food.

In order to avoid disease, he had to control his breathing system and use his body to react to its highest potential which can beat almost any kind of disease.

He told us that if we meditate two hours each day we can control our senses and mind.

He even met with his dead brother in a four-dimensional communication.
Just like telepathy.
Our mind can only help us to reach this point where we can communicate the soul who had left the world.

Also, we can gain the power to see those things which are unreachable for normal human beings.

Now guess what?
He practised meditation for 24 hours a day for 10 years.

Imagine how much power he had gained.

He told us that our body has the capacity to survive any situation.

He finally reached a point where he can feel his soul differently.

And connect his mind with it.

He told that if he hadn't left his family, he might not have been able to gain these powers.

Now all he has is peace.

A peace that can outperform any luxury in the world.

90 years with no medication, no modern facilities.

And guess what he predicted that he would die somewhere around 2008.
His great soul left his body in 2008.

He is not famous like Baba Ramdev or any Godmen in our country.
But I believe he is the true meaning of spirituality.
This man and this incident have changed my perspective on life.


It happened when I was in class 11.

I was in New Delhi visiting my Aunt’s house and that day we were going to Qutb Minar by Metro.

So we were on a metro that had picked us from Rajiv Chowk and bound for Hooda City Centre.

Halfway from the Qutb Minar Station, a boy with dismal school uniform boarded.
He looked frail and in his mid teens with underdeveloped stature and physique.
But his eyes were sharp behind his specs.

There was a sharp specification of poverty in his appearance and till then he appeared somehow the odd man out among the richly clad Delhi population in the coach.

Suddenly , in the passage between the coaches he found a place , sat down on the dirt and from his bag took out Mechanics part I by DC Pandey.

As a student of Science and belonging to a reputed school of Kolkata I knew jolly well of this book.

He opened the chapter of Projectile Motion Objective Section and started at a pace unimaginable doing all of them correct.

I was sure that he was poor and did not have money to afford tution for IITJEE but relied on his confidence and hard work fully.
Necessity calls for hard work.

Whereas I had tutions for all subjects all Physics Chemistry and Maths and still could not solve up to my expectations.
Even after that I often used to convict my teachers for my poor performances and thought of switching teachers.

Whereas this poor boy of Delhi had dreams high above the sky , much stronger than me, much more talented than me, using all that he could lay his hands on.

I don’t know what happened to him ultimately….
probably in some IIT now.

But he had taught me one thing that day :
Where there is a will
There is a way……


I saw a black man killed by a white police officer in broad daylight.

When I saw this, I was 20 years old, I am now 51.
This was probably one  of two things which I actually saw instead of experienced (like I have written about on Quora) which has had a profound affect on my life.

I worked in a strip mall as a manager of a restaurant for some while.
I recognized most of the people who worked and shopped in that mall .
.
.
it was a small mall, maybe 6 or 7 stores.

There was an elderly black man who walked with a  cane and was hard of hearing so he wore a hearing aid to help him hear.
He comes in my restaurant every month when he visits to get a sandwich, then I wouldn't see him until next month .
.
.
just like clockwork.

In between this visit and his next visit, the store next to me had a change of staff; it was under new management.
Unlike everybody else who were familiar with the customers, the new manager came from another part of town and had to learn all the faces of the shoppers.

The next month came and the old black man came to our shopping center.
He took his hearing aid to the Radio Shack in the strip mall for a new battery.
While he waited for the battery replacement, he did his shopping.
He came and got his regular order from us and ate it.
Then he went into the store next to us to shop.

The shop he frequented next had a glass front, so everybody could see into the store.
But what happened next was a perfect storm of events: A new manager and the old man without his hearing aid.
Everybody outside, including myself could see what appeared as the manager yelling at the old man.
His arms were in the air, it was so obvious something was going one.

A few minutes later the old man left the store but at the same time a police car pulled up.
The old man was walking back toward the Radio Shack to pick up his hearing aid when one of the police officers told the old man to stop.
I could clearly hear the police officer and I was inside my restaurant watching.

The old man obviously couldn't hear the police officer because he didn't have his hearing aid in.
The police officer pulled his weapon out and repeated his demand of "stop!" The old man continued towards the Radio Shack, but the police officer was definitely irritated at the old man and yelled the command one more time and he got the same results.
The old man didn't stop.

The officer fired once while the old man was facing away from him.
The old man dropped to his knees and then face first onto the ground.
Minutes later more police cars arrived and an ambulance arrived.

I witnessed a deaf, old man get killed in a parking lot because he didn't hear the police officer because the old man's hearing aid was having it's battery replaced.

I remember that like it was yesterday.


My uncle owns a liquor store in America.
My mom used to work there when I was younger, and I would go with her.
My uncle's house was next door, so I used to just stay there and watch TV and periodically go and visit her throughout the day.

When I was about eight years old, I was there one day.
I can still remember seeing this guy's blue Camaro outside.
It was parked with the front end facing forwards, which wasn't something to be worried about at the time.

I went inside the store to see my mom.
I heard someone crying, actually wailing, but figured it was the radio, because my mom always had it on.
As I approached the counter I realized it was my mom crying.
This man turned to see me, with a look of terror on his face.
I realized he was holding a gun and pointing it in the direction of my mom.

I then figured out it wasn't the radio, but it was my mom crying like that.
My mom started screaming at me to get out of the store.
The man told me the same too.
I just stood there and wouldn't leave.

I went to the door of the store and looked outside.
I saw a man by the edge of the driveway just waiting there.
He was a regular at the store.
I remember not knowing what to do at all.

My mom had/has terrible anxiety and she couldn't open the register.
All the man wanted was money.
He kept yelling at her to open it, but she was paralyzed with fear.
After what seemed like an eternity, he took the register and slammed it on the ground.
The money came flying out.
He grabbed it, and ran out the door, and sped off in his car.

The police came and had to do investigations.
They later found that man with his blue Camaro getting high inside a hotel room.
He was a heroin addict.

This experience totally changed my life at the age of eight.
I can tell you the following things that happened.

1) I recognized how fortunate I was to have my mother in my life.
We have such an incredible bond that everyone can recognize.
I truly believe part of it was due to this traumatic experience.

2) I realized how desperate addicts are and that they would do anything to get money when needed for their high.

3) I also recognized that addicts have souls.
I can still remember the terror in that man's face when he saw me coming in.
He had no idea my mom had a child that would soon wander into the store.
In whatever way he could be, he wanted to spare me.

That's all I can really say about this subject for now.
It still is something that troubles me to this day.
That was over 20 years ago and I can remember as if it were yesterday.


I realized that not all parents love their children more than anything else.

When I was in 3rd grade, I went to stay at my friend’s house for the first time.

I found it strange that the house wasn’t as large, as comfortable, and as clean as our house was.
At the time, I didn’t understand why.

As night was approaching, I noticed that nobody was asking us to come for dinner.
At about 8pm, I asked my friend when dinner would be.
He said that his family didn’t have dinner together.
His parents would eat in the living room, and he would have to go to the fridge to get whatever he needed.
And so we did.

Later on that night, we wanted to watch some TV, so we went into the living room.
When my friend asked his father if we could watch, the response he got sent shivers down my spine.
He didn’t shout, he didn’t complain about him watching too much TV, all he said was:
“Leave.

This shocked me.
How could a father say that?
Whether they do love him or not, this is no way to treat a 9 year old.
My friend never received the love he deserved or wanted.

He was only a burden to the people closest to him.
He felt unwanted.

On the other hand it made me realize how much I ought to appreciate my own family, which is an absolute opposite of my miserable friend’s.

This is why it changed my perspective on life.
Life is really, really not a level playing field.
Some are born to miserable hellholes devoid of love, while others are born to happy and prosperous families.


My life changed the week of January 22, 2018.

I have been in a battle between anxiety and depression for as long as I can remember, everyday for months prior to January 22, I wanted to end it all.
Suicide would cross my mind throughout the day, no matter who I was with or what I was doing – I simply did not want to live.

If you’ve seen the Netflix show, The End of The F**cking World – you should know that the main characters changed their appearance completely so they wouldn’t be recognized.
Jokingly, my friend and I changed our appearance because we “wanted to start a new life.
” It was an impulsive decision on my end, but I have no regrets because getting bangs was the best decision I’ve ever made.

Anyway, my friend and I planned on changing our lives.
We were sick of living the way we were – anxiety and depression consumed.
Myself especially wanted to get out more, and fight back in my war between anxiety and depression.

On January 22, my friend (who is the same friend throughout this answer, for privacy I don’t want to say his name) and I got into a fight which escalated into a deep talk.
I’ll never forget the words he said that changed me, and my perspective on life forever.
With tears in his eyes, he looked at me straight into my eyes and said, “Lauren, if you’re struggling to find purpose in life, maybe our purpose is to stay alive for each other.

I can’t explain it, but those words and his eyes filled with tears really changed everything.
Almost as if he cured me, because truthfully, I haven’t thought about suicide since then.

There’s the first half of the story, stick with me a little while longer.

My friend decided to experiment with acid which happened the night of January 22 – he claims his trip was amazing (I was there, sober, to witness most of it.
) It really opened his mind.

Flash forward a few days, January 26, 2018 I witnessed something that really changed me.

It’s possible to still trip a few days after, or even for the rest of your life.
My friend was still tripping on acid (he had been smoking / drinking throughout the week as well) January 26.

It was a crazy week for him.
He came out to his parents about his sexuality, they weren’t accepting.
He almost got suspended from school.
He had a bunch of theories (due to the acid) and he was filled with anger.
I can’t tell you how many people I witnessed him yell / cuss at throughout the week – including myself.

I’m going to cut the rest of the story short.

My father, my friend, and I were in my dad’s truck.
Murphy’s law: whatever can go wrong, WILL go wrong.
Everything was going wrong.
We were trying to figure out where we were dropping my friend off to stay for the night, but he was so overwhelmed and not in the right state of mind at all.
My friend was pushed to his limit.
Going about 25–30 mph, my best friend jumped out of my truck.
Flashbacks still race through my mind.

I get out of the truck, and there he lay, face down on the gravel.
I thought he was dead.
I go to flip him over, he was unconscious, although I really thought he wasn’t alive.
I was screaming uncontrollably, I couldn’t believe it.
My father picked up half of his body, and I got the other half, we had to force him into the truck.
At this moment, I was holding him and telling him how much I loved him.
I kid you not, it was almost as if he resurrected.
He became conscious, and he pushed me off of him.
He began to say that he was sorry, that he didn’t know why he did that.
His face was covered in blood.
The whole way to the hospital, he was being super irrational and not making much sense at all.

Once we arrived at the hospital, he made a huge scene and was screaming at the nurses to take him immediately.
They did, and that was the last I saw / heard from him for 3 weeks (which felt like an eternity.
) His family wouldn’t tell his friends anything besides that he was going to be in rehab for 6 months.
6 MONTHS?! I was a mess.
It was the hardest 3 weeks of my life, because I had no idea where he was or how he was doing.

However, I learned a lot from this incident.
It taught me not to let the small things get to me because something so tragic can happen in the split of a second that will change you forever.
It brought me closer to my family, but also made me more independent.
For the past year or so, I was with my friend everyday, it honestly felt like I didn’t have a personality of my own because I was with him so much.
Not being able to see him or talk to him made me realize that in the end, I’m alone.
This incident brought me closer to my other friends, I spent a lot of time hanging out with other people, when usually I would only hang out with my best friend.
It changed everything.

On February 18, I woke up and checked my phone.
Scrolling through all of my Snapchat notifications, I remember seeing “Whale Shit” but didn’t think much of it until I went to the bathroom and it registered in my brain.
I opened my phone as quick as possible.
It was real.
Whale Shit snapped me (you can take a guess who that is.
) I opened it up and the message said, “Guess who?.

My friend was let out of rehab two days before, and was using his old phone to text me.
I can’t begin to express the emotions I felt that morning.

Now? He’s not allowed to see me unless supervised because his parents think I’m the reason for his decisions in the past.
You know how sneaky teens are though, we’ve managed to see each other a lot.
I’ve gone to church with his family twice so far.

He’s doing much better now!! He’s missing a tiny piece of his nose due to the incident, but has a wicked scar in my opinion.
His other injuries were minor.

Life is a lot different for the both of us since January 26, 2018 but I’m a strong believer that everything happens for a reason.


Once, several years ago, I was walking alone in Downtown LA from the Union Station towards Little Tokyo for a bite to eat.
I enjoy traveling into the city on public transport and this wasn’t my first time in the area.

Although I generally try to keep to myself on these visits, my familiarity with the bus/subway system gives me the opportunity to help steer people in the right direction when they happen to be lost or confused.
It tends to happen pretty often and I try to help out however I can because I know sometimes there’s a language barrier or elderly confusion or other such problems people have with directions/locations.
At this point I’m honestly sort of used to people approaching me for this kind of help; guess I have that kind of “air” about me or whatever.

The point is, an older woman approached me one day as we waited to cross over the freeway bridge and I assumed she was going to ask me for directions of some kind.
I remember how kind but tired she looked.
I remember the wrinkled, suntanned skin of her arms and the worn old-lady shoes in which she shuffled across the street.
We chatted in Spanish and I learned she was looking for the prison (the Metropolitan Detention Center is nearby).
Not one to judge or pry, I confirmed the direction of the prison, assuming that she was trying to visit someone there.
I found it easy to say, almost as an afterthought, that I believed the entrance was on the other side of the street and perhaps she should cross here at the crosswalk (so she wouldnt have to try to jaywalk across when she got to it).

She laughed airily and told me not to worry.
“My son is being kept in that building,” she said, “and I’m not allowed to visit him, but he says if I stand just across the street here he can see me from a crack in one of the windows.

[picture from google images]
Her words were jarring, like a plot twist in a movie; they caught me so off guard that I could do nothing but nod in dumbfounded understanding.
I felt such a shift in perspective at that moment, that there were people in the world -in my world- living through such a bizarre situation.
Nothing that had happened so far in my life could compare to the hardship that this woman was living, standing alone on the sidewalk waving at a stone building, hoping that somewhere inside, her son might be looking back at her.
I felt so detached from this type of world, so small in the face of such a situation.

I don’t know if, technically speaking, it was even possible for her son to see her or not from those “windows.
” I did not argue or question her logic at all; she thanked me with a polite smile and I just bid her a good afternoon and left.

The very sight of the prison still reminds me of this woman.
To this day, the memory haunts me a little every time I pass this street.


There was a girl at my high school (For anonymity sake I’ll refer to her as Mary) who got killed sophomore year due to a drunk driver.
She was out bowling with friends one night and was behind the wheel of the car when they got struck.
She was killed instantly.

I didn’t know her.
Didn’t see her around campus.
Never spoke to her.
All I saw was the memorial they had of her in the middle of campus the next day.

As I walked by the memorial, I saw this older woman just bawling her eyes out right in front of Mary’s memorial.
I’m not ENTIRELY sure, but I had a solid hunch this was Mary’s mom.

The pain and agony on her face was unbearable, but I couldn’t look away.
It’s almost like I could see how much she loved her daughter, by watching her misery in that moment.

She didn’t wipe her tears or look to other people for condolences.
Her eyes were locked straight ahead at the picture of her daughter with a ring of flowers surrounding the frame.

Seeing this didn’t give me some euphoric realization about the inevitability of death.

However, I did feel this incredible urge to just be careful.
I was raised by a single mom and everyday before I’d leave the house she’d tell me to stay safe out there.
I heard it so much that I thought it was a throw away line but I was finally seeing the repercussions of a parent losing their child.

Prior to that day, the greatest pain I witnessed was during a death scene in movies when a talented actor would hold their loved ones as they slowly drifted away.

The expression on the mom’s face that day put those world class actors to shame.
It was so raw and stoic.
The ultimate mix of sadness and rage.
Despair and acceptance.
Love and regret.
There’s a saying which goes there’s no greater pain in life than the pain of losing a child.
After that day I firmly believe it.

In life it’s easy to feel small, unimportant and inconsequential sometimes.
But that’s not the case.
Your life is precious so be wary of the company you keep, decisions you make and urges in your head.
Life is delicate and above all else, interwoven with everything.

Mary’s mom felt a type of pain that day I hope no one will ever have to endure.


Yes.
It happened to me a few months ago.

I was worried about my family's financial condition.
I felt stressed and disturbed as hell.
So, I stopped going to college, didn't meet anyone, I spent most of my time either alone or teaching others.

My friends called me for a movie.
I instantly said NO.
One of my friend came to my house, tried to cheer me up.
I didn't.
He continuously asked about the problem, but I was too firm to tell him.
Then because of his consistency, I told him the reason.

He smiled and said that
"everybody has a problem going on in his life.
And it seems huge to him.
But.
By worrying about it, it won't get solved.
We must try solving it, keeping faith in god.
Even in Gita, it's written that whatever happens, happens for good.
"
I got furious at him.
I scolded him that its easy for you to smile and give advice as he is not the one who has problems and if he steps into my shoes, he would understand.
But for now, he must keep the s**t in his a**.

Then he told me something which made me feel guilty.
He told me that his father died a week ago.
And he doesn't think that my condition is worse than his.

When I enquired from other students of my class then they told me that nothing has been unusual about him.
He had just come back from his home.
So he is really happy.

P.
S.
- I realized that everyone has a problem but, crying or worrying is not the solution.
Face the problem with a smile and have faith in God.


There's so much I can say here.

I can talk about the time I worked in Kansas City with Teach For America, and a student told me about how her torso was cut from a stray bullet.
Men had been fighting in front of her grandmother's house, and they started shooting after it escalated.
Let's just say I didn't have to worry about that when I grew up in a nice suburb outside of Des Moines.

I can also talk about having gone to college believing that I understood the world around me–that I knew what wealth was–only to encounter foreign students whose parents owned entire industries in other countries.
Or how I've encountered folks whose parents had groomed them from a young age to run for office.
I can also talk about people who can fall flat on their face and step right into a luxurious career because of who they know.
To then watch folks bitch and gripe about unions as if those people are living it up by making marginally more money–well, let's just say they're missing the point entirely.

I can also talk about the fact that one of the least capable, least intelligent, and most small-minded students at my university (who, I'm told, was forced to take remedial writing classes in law school) is now a representative in my state's government.
She contributes to decisions that affect all of us.
Go figure.

But all of that sounds so typical.

Instead, I want to talk about something that's more important: my perspective on aging.

Last year, after I finished a local triathlon, I sat next to an old man during the awards ceremony.
This particular race required that our age was written on our right calf in permanent marker, and I noticed that his said "71".
I also noticed him on the course, and I was impressed with his running ability.

"So how long have you been doing this?" I asked.

"I've done over a hundred triathlons since the late eighties," he replied.

We continued talking, and he started to tell me a bit of his story.

"The trick at my age," he said, "is to avoid falling.
I can do the swimming, cycling, and running just fine, but what gets people is when they fall.
I'm too old to do that.
"
Now I'd always known that older folks participate in endurance sports, but this example stuck with me for a reason.
It wasn't long before this that my stepfather suffered a severe heart attack.
He collapsed into the passenger side of my car after we left the gym, and fortunately I was there to save him.
I immediately called EMS, pulled him away from the car, and held his head up after it looked like he was choking.
The entire debacle made me think long and hard about my future and my well-being.

I think we have this idea that aging is synonymous with poor health–with getting fat,  becoming immobile, and taking so much medication that you need a damn tackle box to store and organize it.
In the hospital, I watched people coming in and out who had just let themselves go.
They'd just stopped giving a damn.
People even took the elevator down to a McDonald's of all places (yeah, in a hospital), and purchased the very things that contribute to lifestyle diseases.

Soon thereafter, I took a job at an upscale restaurant to make some extra money.
And I watched as old folks shuffled in with this sideways waddle–struggling just to move.
Now of course some people may have been injured or dealing with the results of unfortunate accidents, but many were grossly overweight.
They shuffled in and slumped into the booths where they ordered porterhouse steaks, asked for a second basket of bread, downed sugary sodas, and ordered appetizers full of fried stuff.
In short, they consumed more calories in a single meal than I ate in an entire day.

All of this compounded to make me feel like I was surrounded by insanity.

But I started to pay attention to folks like the man I met at the triathlon.
I started to notice that getting old doesn't mean becoming sick, fat, and immobile.
Obviously there are things that you can't control–such as sudden illnesses and the like–but for the most part, it's your choice if you want to be that way or not.

You can choose to be an old man who's in better shape than most twenty-year-olds, or you can choose to be the old man who has to ride a motorized scooter whenever he walks further than the distance from the car to the house.

It's all about the quality of life we want for ourselves.
I hope I'm not being naive, but I choose to be someone who's capable of movement if I live that long.

I don't want to spend my later years confined to a chair.
I want to show people that there's a better way.

If you enjoyed this, follow me at FrankBeard.
org
or on Instagram @frank.
beard
.
I also offer monthly book recommendations through my mailing list.
You can sign up at my website.


This happened about three years ago when I was pursuing the third year of my undergraduate course.
I was part of an NGO which was founded by one of my seniors in the college.
We usually used to go to orphanages to provide some financial help that we could and spend some time with the children there.
But this particular one is close to my heart and did leave an indelible impression on my mind.

We went to a place called Melmaruvathur (around 90 km from Chennai, India).
This time too we went to an orphanage, but the stark difference was that all the kids there were suffering from AIDS.
The worst part, their ages ranged from 1-15 years.
All of them had been abandoned by their parents due to one reason or the other.
The caretaker of that particular home gave us a brief idea about what their mission was and the steps that they took on a continual basis to take utmost care of the kids.
We were told about the common stereotypes surrounding people who tested HIV positive and how were they were stigmatised and considered outcasts.
(Unfortunately, this is still prevalent).
The kids, being vulnerable due to their weak immune systems, had to be given nutritious food and medicine every single day.

Then, we spent the entire day with the kids.
We played, sang, danced and ate with them.
All through these activities, a lot of things were running on my mind.
The kids below the age of 10 were oblivious to their condition, but the older kids were aware of the gravity of their situation.
In spite of that, they had indomitable spirits.
It was quite evident in the way they took care of the other kids like their own siblings with an incredible level of maturity and it totally humbled us.
When we were about to leave in the evening, the little kids kept asking us to spend more time with them.
One of them (named Mani, can never forget his name!) hugged me and literally pleaded me to stay.
I could not face him in the eye, but just lied that I would be coming the next day with more candies specially for him.
I do lie, but that lie is probably one of which I regret the most.

On our way back to Chennai, all of us were silent.
I was (and probably my friends too) recounting the entire experience.
“Life is short, make it sweet” is a quote that probably most people know but fail to recognize.
The level of mental fortitude shown by the elder kids in that home despite them being aware of their fleeting life is something that I hope to emulate.
I was ashamed my previous self who used to whine over trivial issues and felt like the luckiest person for having loving parents who provided me with more than what I asked for.
Though there are several incidents that shaped my life, that particular day made me realize the invaluable value of life and the how to make the most of the time that’s available to us and be grateful for whatever we have, more than anything else, and provided me with a whole new perspective on life.


Here's something i'm sharing, something simple enough to get unnoticed and yet nothing less than an eye-opener.
It’s a true incidence-
It wasn't a smooth day in college when everything falls in place for you.
In fact, it wasn't even a mediocre one.
Some work was not getting done as I had planned, one of the results weren't really morale boosting and a little annoying act by one of my class-mate resulted in retaliation.
To get my mind off those things I took my bicycle and went to the market with innumerable things running inside simultaneously.
While on my way, all of a sudden my eyes fell on something.

To a regular eye, it was just a group of friends, 5 or maybe 6, sitting in a circle outside a tea-stall and having fun.
I slowed down because I saw something much more than that group.
Out of those, there was a guy, who was moving his hand animatedly as if carving words out of his hand and his face as cheerful as it can get.
His friends could understand exactly what he was trying to convey and even responded back in the same hand-carving-words way.
I waited for a while, watching them with utmost interest and then left.
To me, what was more amusing than their conversation and the way they did it was the smile on his face in spite of the apparent disability he had.
He was deaf and dumb.

There was a sudden realization-it wasn't him having any disability, it was me.
In spite of what he wasn't capable of doing, he still managed a smile.
On the other hand, we people have everything, and yet small troubles find a way to hamper our happiness.
How easily we get depressed, cursing our lives and comparing it with ones who seem happier than going the other way round.
I can’t say it changed my life forever, but it did make a mark.
And I could get my head clear of all that garbage and manage a smile.


Not me.
.
the entire world witnessed this.
And no one could do anything but stare at their TV stes in complete horror!
I'm talking about these.
.

Can you see the grief on her face? Not her face.
.
it's visible in her entire being.
The way she's looking at that corpse.
It's unresponsive.
.
and will never ever respond again.
I cannot describe how I feel when I look at this picture.

Wondering what happened? This is the mother of a student who succumbed to his injuries in the Peshavar massacre2014 Peshawar school massacre – Wikipedia
Do I need to say anything? Is there anyone who can pay back what is lost here? Not a life.
.
humanity is lost.

Have you ever fallen in love? Your heart will break into a million pieces at this one.
.
mine does.

Is that a tear drop in his eyes? Yes!
How can I forget the child you didn't even understand yet that he won't get to actually 'tell everything to God!'
There are many more all over the internet.
But I guess my point is made.
Anything can happen at anytime in life.
We have no control.
Looking at these disastrous pictures made me change my prespective for life.
I started to not take things for granted.
I realized that my problems are very small and solvable.
Theirs aren't.
And you know the funny part? According to research, we're living in the most peaceful decade in about a century.
.
look!
The graphic above has been created using data from the Human Security Report Project, Uppsala Conflict Data Project, Peace Research Institute of Oslo, and shows the startling decrease in worldwide violence that has taken place over the past century.
Source[1]
Image source – Google.

I wonder what the 1940s used to be like.
.

Thank you for reading! :)
Spread smiles.
.


It’s not a Big Secret – to get bored when you have an exam the very next day.

As usual, my Quora feed and Youtube screams for my attention; undoubtedly I gave in with no choice.

And that’s when I came across this particular video featuring about a girl.

A girl, who is probably of my age, young and vibrant, with a power to color all her dreams.

Due to the impulsive decision and emotional trauma, she attempted suicide with a shotgun.

The bullet didn’t cost her life, indeed stole more than that.

Her face.

Miraculously she was saved from the worst brain trauma, but her face was disfigured.

A face isn’t just about the looks and our personality.
Our face expresses even our fleeting emotions and let’s us experience the world.
But she lost hers at 18.

She didn’t stop there, whilst she went through a two dozen surgeries.

Her doctors patched and repaired her face.
They created a face out of her thigh flesh and part of her Achilles’ tendons.

Her calendar is filled with doctor’s appointments, rehab sessions, acupuncture, nutritionist, massage, personal trainer, spiritual and healing services.

Indeed with the most skilled reconstructive plastic surgery, she found herself behind the masks and scarves.
She was uncomfortable with the whispers from strangers.

But a miracle tiptoed into her life.

She finally gonna get a new face.

After three years of struggle, distress and despair, she went for a face transplant.

The surgeons transplanted the new face on her, screwed her bones, stitched her blood vessels and nerves and tried to preserve her features.

She didn’t have any rejections, overtime her face will regain function.

While her parents, held on to their lives, relying on faith and stood with her.

She is a voluntary human research project.

She is the youngest face transplant recipient.

She is an epitome of hope and determination.

She is Katie Stubblefield.

I get a second chance at life now.
This is the beginning of another chapter”

I didn’t witness it personally.
But I could able to feel the layers of pain and hopelessness she went through.

It's just a speck of a moment, which completely turned the tides of her life.
Maybe just 20 seconds.

To those in the grips of depression and suicidal thoughts, lending an ear would prevent their pain.
Rather than tending to solve their problem, I feel that we have to listen, truly listen to them.

It also made me realise that whatever life can throw, maybe we would not walk the same degree as hers.
But it is our cue to hold on to it or to transform it into something beautiful.

Updated: 15.06.2019 — 1:46 pm

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