The Concept Of 'Belonging'

        So in English we are looking at the concept of 'belonging'. So far we've looked at language, physical appearance, customs, colloquialism, and accents as barriers. These seem obvious - and they are - but I've been thinking about how these barriers affect the emotions and thoughts of the individual and the others. The individual is not the only one affected - everyone is (directly or indirectly). How are they suppose to communicate with this person when this person can't speak english? It can be very frustrating when you're trying to make friends.

Having a sense of belonging gives you a sense of identity. 

HeartQuest 101

Hi there,

A little while ago I was searching the net about atheists and why they reject God. I've always had ideas but I've never really voiced them because I don't want to say something that could be completely wrong - hey, I'm no psychologist. So anyway, I found this blog called Why Does Atheism Reject God? by HeartQuest 101. Maybe you might be interested in reading it. It's quick to read and it explains a few reasons why atheists reject God.

http://heartquest.wordpress.com/2007/12/22/why-does-atheism-reject-god/

Thanks,

Ness

A Diamond In His Eyes

          I have to say that disappointment would probably be one of the top five worst feelings I've experienced. I haven't been disappointed many times in my life - actually, I don't think I've ever been genuinely disappointed more than 3 times in my life - but when I felt that way, it was discouraging even crushing! I don't know about you, but I felt like something dark and heavy had an affect on me - like as if a shadow came crawling into my body keeping me in a state of shock. My light was fading because I lost hope. 

Mostly, when I'm disappointed, it is with someone else. But sometimes I'm disappointed with myself. A voice says inside my head, 'I could have done that better' or, 'Why did you do that?' or, 'Why? You could do better'. Naturally, we are very critical of other people and so we are criticized virtually everyday. But our worse judge will always be ourself. It's important that we ask ourselves questions, such as the questions mentioned above, because they allow for reflection and give us the opportunity to adjust our standards and expectations of ourselves. And so I call this these questions 'Reflective questions'. But what about those questions that start to eat at our insides until we feel crippled, worthless, and until we feel like we are the villain. These questions are a way of criticizing ourselves to the point of self-destruction, and so I call them 'Critical questions'. Some examples of Critical questions:

'That's not good enough, how could you be so stupid?'

'Do you want to keep hurting your friends?'

'How could I treat him/her like that? I don't deserve him/her.'

The saying, "we are our own worst enemy" is so true.


Okay, so you get disappointed, you lose hope, and you become very critical of yourself, but what's so bad about that? It's not like it's a life-changing experience. 

No, the questions themselves are not a life-changing experience, but for me (and surely for other people) these questions left me in an emotional state where a life-changing experience could occur - and it wasn't pretty. 

I was confused, I wasn't sleeping well, I was failing at my relationships, and I was depressed. 'What am I?' I would ask myself. 'Am I nice? Am I good? Am I cool? Am I emo? Just make your mind up!' I wanted to fit in and be accepted. But mostly, and honestly, I wanted to be a better person. And so by self-questioning and reflective questioning I was falling into a method in which would bring on change.

And so I started to change myself. I was working on my manners. I was being kind to people and did my best not to criticize them, but hey! 'Who am I kidding, right? I can't do this. I'm not capable of changing. I'm a nobody!' - I started to criticize myself. I started to doubt, and because I listened to those critical questions in my mind I also started to lose hope. TROUBLE!

When you have doubt and no hope, you open yourself up to bullies. You even feel hurt by the people who care about you.

I was very confused in the early years of high school. I was bullied, I had been in abusive environments, and have seen some disturbing things. I was prone to find myself in a mess.  And a mess it was - I was a mess. I was in a dysfunctional relationship and depression was setting in. It was hard to fall asleep but then when I did get sleep I'd wake up from a nightmare. I cried a lot and I made a lot of mistakes. I harshly criticized myself to the extent that, when I look back now, it seems like I was torturing myself almost on purpose. 

All of this led up to huge events that have changed my life permanently. But now my past is behind me - in fact, there's not much I can remember. But those events also have strong side-effects. I'm still sensitive to certain issues and so I can become easily very emotional. Sometimes the nasty thought 'I am second-hand' creeps into my head, making me feel sad and used. I sometimes think that because of this, I will never have a first happy experience with my future husband. It's a very disheartening and depressing thought to have and I know that it's not true - these are the words of the enemy; not God. So this is what I tell myself:

Christ has forgiven me. The earth may see me as a worthless gem, but Jesus will always see me as his precious diamond because as said in Ephesians 5:27 "He did this to present her as a glorious church without a spot or wrinkle or any other blemish." And that is exactly what I am - spotless in the eyes of Jesus, and that's all that matters.

Thanks,

Ness

Beauty For Inspiration

I love the colour purple. It represents royalty, but that's not why I like it. It is one of those colours that penetrate your eyes. It can be sweet, playful, loud, soft, hard, and round.

The other night I was in my backyard look at the sky. It was a pretty purple with a tinge of pink to it. I looked at a tree in my yard and noticed how its branches looked so jagged and wonky like lightning. I guess that would look kind of scary to most people, but with the purple sky as its backdrop the tree looked fantasy-like. Suddenly, just a normal and bare tree looked like it had a story to tell - not a scary one, but an eerie one.

Now, if the sky had been red I wouldn't have gotten that impression. I love the colour red - and many other colours - but today I'm just into purple XD

Anyway, the point of me adding this post is to give you a better idea of my characteristics - the components that make up ME.

Thanks,
Ness

Refugee Camp - Creative Writing

In English we had to write a creative writing story/speech/whatever based on the concept of 'belonging' (although, just recently it was decided that 'belonging' is not a concept but a theme). Our stimulus was a picture of two refugee children behind a diamond fence. 

* Just so you know, this is not a true story. I am not a doctor!

Okay, so now we are clear. Please read.

* And sorry that I couldn't attach the stimulus :)

Refugee Camp

I have been doing volunteer work in refugee camps around the world for 10 years now and so you would think that I would be used to seeing the poor living conditions the refugees must live in. In a way I have gotten used to it. I’m a doctor and so I see this all the time – this is my reality. So when I go out to work I expect to see the rooves damaged by the weather, the food shortages, the contaminated water, and the poorly dressed children. But in such conditions they have to make-do – and they do.  But these aren’t the poor living conditions I’m talking about.  As I said, I have been to many refugee camps around the world, including the Palestine camps and Christmas Island. The conditions of each are different in many ways, but there is commonality between all of them. Disease. I’ve seen Typhoid, TB, Hepatitis, AIDS, HIV, and many other numerous diseases flow through these camps continuously. And no matter how many times I’ve seen the sick suffer with these diseases I still cry and ache for them on the inside.

Only two weeks ago I met two little African girls. They came to me for advice about their pregnant mother. They said that she had become very ill with headaches and she wasn’t eating or moving. Instantly fear and concern washed over me for their expecting mother. I visited their mother and she was indeed ill. She was unhealthily skinny and was running a temperature of 40 degrees. I called for a nurse to come immediately, and as I expected, no one came. The camps are always busy with limited staff running around for room to room. I told the two girls to leave the room to find a nurse and they left. I turned my attention to the mother again. I took out my torch and flashed them into her eyes – no response. I checked her pulse and it was weak. She had been sick for at least two weeks before I got to se her. I stripped her down and looked around the room for water, but every bucket was empty. I ran over to the woman and placed her hand in mine. As the minutes passed I sat, watching her chest slowly and shakily move up and down. I could do nothing for her. The girls finally came back with a nurse, but it was too late. Their mother and unborn sibling had been lost to typhoid. I stood up and approached the two girls and had to give them the same speech I’ve given to too many new orphans.

“Your mother was very sick and her heart couldn’t take the strain anymore. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do anything more. Your mother has passed peacefully with both of you in her heart.”

I led them to the bed so they could say their last goodbyes and then I left.

That night I did not – could not - sleep. I had trained and studied for years to help and save people. But here I am helpless – powerless. The episode ran in my head for hours repeating, skipping, rewinding. I just got there too late. And now there are two little girls without a mother, without a home, and without understanding. They don’t know how their mother got sick and they don’t know why she had to die. All they know is that they are alone.

It understand that it wasn’t my fault that their mother died, but never the less I feel responsible. I had been called to help, but could do nothing. It was out of my hands.

They came from a country where there was corruption and no hope. They came here and were affected by disease. They came here for help, but did not get it. But Typhoid was not their disease. It was much greater than that - much greater than any combination of doctors could ever match. It was the disease of the world. The conflict, the wars, the separation, the death – it was all one big disease. And that is what killed their mother and their hope for the future they thought they would have.