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Matthew 7:13-14, Mew International Version
“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. 14But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”
Matthew 7:13-14, King James Version
13Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat:
14Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.
From the old blog, for archiving purposes.
Jan. 31st, 2007 at 12:28 PM
Embedded in life is that of purpose,
And within purpose there is passion.
Passion to believe,
Passion to hope,
And most importantly, passion to love.
Though many assume prosperity in abundance,
So do many succumb to discern,
that genuine treasures lies in that of the heart.
Power, ignorance and egotism have blinded our eyes,
to the atrocities of now, the sufferings of the innocent.
Wars, famine, ailments, all the consequences of us.
But do not fear, do not be disheartened!
the Sovereign’s profound message still holds strong,
how fortunate we are, that someone believes in our entirety!
Don’t gallop too quickly, however,
the journey to purpose sways back and forth,
hold on tight, because it is no easy ride.
But rest assured,
You are heard, from above and beyond.
From the old blog; for archiving purposes.
Aug. 14th, 2007 at 10:10 AM
Lesson today in Spanish: write a rhyming poem of vowels with at least two stanzas and at least four lines in each.
I HATE RHYMING, LET ALONE RHYMING IN SPANISH!! GRRR!
Anyway, here it is, I tried my best with a blend of cognates!
La vida es verdaderamente una celebración,
aunque habrá muchas complicaciones.
Haga no, sin embargo, permita que ellos afectar su concentración, porque es solamente una confrontación.
La vida es un regalo precioso,
¡Usted nunca sabe, cuando su vida puede caerse rodando apenas un precipicio!
Así, es recordado por favor,
nunca dar por sentado vida.
English translation:
Life is indeed a celebration,
although there will be many complications.
Don’t, however, let them affect your concentration,
because it is merely a confrontation.
Life is a precious gift,
You never know, when your life may just roll off a cliff!
So, please be reminded,
never to take life for granted.
Another poem in Spanish for assignment today.
¿Qué puedo decir yo acerca de la educación?
Es una combinación,
del conocimiento y la aspiración.
Sin ello, usted no tendrá alabanza.
Sin embargo, consigo, usted tendrá una percepción culta.
Con ese propósito en la mente,
aplique la diligencia y practique,
y la verdad que usted encontrará.
English translation:
What can I say about education?
It is a combination,
of knowledge and aspiration.
Without it, you will have no commendation.
However, with it, you will have an enlightened perception.
With that purpose in mind,
apply diligence and practice,
and the truth you shall find.
Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. – Hebrews 11:1
This morning, I stumbled upon a friend’s blogpost, and it was about me, about the 16-year-old me…the post was entitled “Dare to Dream”.
As I read the post, I realized how much I have changed over the past years…I went from being an idealist with a big dream to what I am today, a sad feat: a realist. You see, as the years went by, I sacrificed a lot of what I wanted to do and who I wanted to be. I was a dreamer, a very good one. I was driven, I was inspired, I felt the whole world was at my fingertips. Sadly today, I no longer have that motivation.
This might sound like a pity party, and to some extent, I will admit that it is. But it is also a lesson worth sharing. I miss that cheery person, I miss that person who does not wear a mask of happiness. I miss being a dreamer. No matter how many times I fell, I got up, dusted off and moved on. I want that back, God I want that back so badly. Don’t ever let the best part of you go, that’s my advice people. Hang on to it very tightly.
“Dare to Dream”,
Keisha
I’ve finally written my tribute for my grandmother. I hope it did her justice. Enjoy.
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“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.”
John F. Kennedy
It’s been over a month now since Ammama has left this world and I have been trying very hard to come up with the right words. This is not usually the case for me, that is, to be tongue-tied. Apparently, I have inherited this trait from Aunty Dharma!
After having reflected on what everyone in the family has said about Ammama, I realized just the perfect words.
Ammama is an ordinary woman with extraordinary abilities. The beginning of her life was not a joyous one. She had lost her mother at a tender age of 7 and as a result, her childhood was so abruptly taken away from her. Despite her grief and her loss, she was resolute in being that thread that held the fabric of family together.
Ammama was a consummate wife, mother and grandmother, as she devoted her life to raising her children and grandchildren to stand tall with strong moral principles and values. Above all, Ammama taught her children and grandchildren to devote themselves to their family and to be selfless individuals. She did not preach this through her words, but rather through her daily actions as she took on the task of being a mother and grandmother not only to her six children and twelve grandchildren, but to many others as well. This to me is most remarkable as there are not many people who can give themselves unconditionally and as willingly as my Ammama has done.
Which brings me now to the most salient point: my grandmother lived her life selflessly and with purpose, and to truly honor and appreciate her memory, one has to only echo on the words of the great John. F. Kennedy. There would be no better tribute than to live our lives the way she did; with magnanimity, selflessness and a grit for determination.
I will surely miss this indomitable spirit as I imagine others do. And I will try my very best to treasure her memory by emulating it.
I love you very much Ammama and you will be deeply missed. Rest in peace.
“A master chef, a connoisseur of life
Every ingredient meticulously sought
a journey to perfection, a life well-lived
To move forward now is to learn.” – Keisha Petrus
“Hell’s Island” coined by TVsmith, so rightly describes the morbid mess in the neighboring island of Pulau Ketam. Although lots of us are not there, our ability to empathize knows no bounds. It breaks my heart to see all these pictures that he has taken.
You know I am more and more convinced everyday that the human species, contrary to popular belief, are far less superior to animals…My own two dogs show me that everyday…their ability to forgive, their ability to trust, their intelligence, their infinite capacity to love…No matter what we do to them, they are still loyal to us.. THAT, my friend, is evident enough to their superiority. How many of us carry the brunt of a grudge and in doing so, destroy our spirits entirely?
While I was reading TVsmith’s blog, I came across a quote by a renowned blogger, Antares: “The true measure of civilization is the way a community deals with social outcasts like immigrants (legal or otherwise), stray dogs, and the transgendered.” By this measure, “we remain classified an an Uncivilized Feudal State of Well-Dressed Primates.”
HA. How true indeed. I would say that 90% of Malaysians are apathetic morons who don’t give a (excuse my french) damn about the minorities of Malaysian society which include these poor, stray dogs.
As apathy is an attitude and a choice, I do not wish to remain the 90%. I would jump at the opportunity to go to Hell’s Island but it is very unfortunate that my physical condition does not permit me to do so. So I decided to try and help in other ways, by buying kibble and shampoo, and donating them to Furry Friend’s Farm, a shelter for underprivileged stray dogs. TYL & I plan on going there this weekend 
(If only I could adopt a survivor but my two munchkins at home are driving my mommy crazy already!)
I would like to urge the Malaysian public to join forces and help these furry friends. It doesn’t matter whether you are rich or poor, young or old, disabled or not. Our collective actions, little or big, can drastically change the perilous situation those poor souls are in.
Lastly, I would like to close this entry with a prayer:
“Dear Lord, please forgive us for our transgressions. We do not deserve Your forgiveness but we are asking for it anyway. Please open our hearts to compassion and love so that we may change the dire situation of these beautiful creatures. Teach us Lord, that it is through generosity and kindness that we make this world a better place, Amen.”
Luke 6:38 (ESV) Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.”
2 Corinthians 9:6 (ESV) The point is this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.
Matthew 6:21 (New International Version)
For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Harvard Graduation Speech 2008 by J. K. Rowling
This is an impressive speech by the famous and well-respected Rowling…so much so I decided to preserve it on my blog!…I must admit that I am not a Harry Potter fan but the words of this lady rings the absolute truth. Especially where adversity is concerned;) Kind of reminded me of what a wise man once said to me, “True success is the ability to move through one defeat after another without losing enthusiasm.”
J.K. Rowling (author of Harry Potter) at Harvard University (USA) graduation 2008.
THE FRINGE BENEFITS OF FAILURE, AND THE IMPORTANCE OF IMAGINATION
President Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates,
The first thing I would like to say is ‘thank you.’ Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honour, but the weeks of fear and nausea I’ve experienced at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight. A win-win situation! Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and fool myself into believing I am at the world’s best-educated Harry Potter convention.
Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation. The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock. Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can’t remember a single word she said. This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.
You see? If all you remember in years to come is the ‘gay wizard’ joke, I’ve still come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step towards personal improvement.
Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that has expired between that day and this.
I have come up with two answers. On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure. And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called ‘real life’, I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.
These might seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but please bear with me.
Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become. Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.
I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels. However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that could never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension. They had hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature. A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages. Hardly had my parents’ car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor. I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day. Of all subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.
I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view. There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you.
What is more, I cannot criticise my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience.
Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticised only by fools.
What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.
At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations, and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.
I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.
However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure. You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success. Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far from the average person’s idea of success, so high have you already flown academically.
Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my eduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.
Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution. I had no idea how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.
So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had already been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea.
And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.
You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by default.
Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above rubies.
The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more to me than any qualification I ever earned.
Given a time machine or a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two. Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone’s total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.
You might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never suffered.
One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books. This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs. Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working in the research department at Amnesty International’s headquarters in London. There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends. I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.
Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to think independently of their government. Visitors to our office included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had been forced to leave behind. I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.
And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since. The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her. She had just given him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country’s regime, his mother had been seized and executed.
Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.
Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares about some of the things I saw, heard and read. And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before. Amnesty mobilises thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.
Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people’s minds, imagine themselves into other people’s places. Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise. And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.
I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces can lead to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid. What is more, those who choose not to empathise may enable real monsters. For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.
One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality. That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people’s lives simply by existing.
But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people’s lives? Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority of you belong to the world’s only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders.
That is your privilege, and your burden. If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped transform for the better.
We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.
I am nearly finished. I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children’s godparents, the people to whom I’ve been able to turn in times of trouble, friends who have been kind enough not to sue me when I’ve used their names for Death Eaters. At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.
So today, I can wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom:
As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.
I wish you all very good lives.
Thank you very much.
Found this on www.poemhunter.com…….. I love poetry, I have grown to admire and appreciate its beauty and over the years, I have honed my own skills in composing poetry. Where do I get my inspiration? For one, the Man up there and from simple people who DO NOT & I repeat, DO NOT embellish their poetry with redundant wording… The best and most heart-warming poetry are found in those that convey complex truths in pure simplicity. Such a composer is Anders Lim who has posted his poem, “The Strength” on poem hunter. ENJOY
Philippians 4:13 (New International Version)
13I can do everything through him who gives me strength.
The Strength by Anders Lim
The strength to resist the night
The strength to endure the day
The strength to keep righteous paths in sight
The strength to take them without delay
The strength to find a purpose in life
The strength to find the truths it brings
The strength to kick away from strife
The strength to stabalize the rock it clings
The strength to light a friend’s day up
The strength to resist wrathful foes
The strength to fill a stranger’s dry cup
The strength to shun sin when it opposed
The strength to feel a injured man’s pain
The strength to hold a reject’s hand
The strength to act against any gain
The strength to love without demand
The strength to understand that our King
Has blessed us with more than we can contain
Therefore regardless what time may bring
The strength will continue to reign
Enter Through Keisha's Mind & Soul. My writings are my life especially when I write for Life Poetry. Visit my blog to hopefully connect and discover a part of yourself as well. Life is tough and the way to get through it is through support and encouragement. My faith is what keeps me going and I often include my spirituality in my poetry as you will see. God is Good!