What Should I Do if I Think My Ex Wants Me Back?
November 2, 2009 | Leave a Comment
What Should I Do If I Think My Ex Wants Me Back?
There are a lot of little hints that your ex may want you back, and chances are you may have noticed a few telltale clues that he may still be interested…but how do you proceed from here?
First you need to confirm whether or not he’s really interested, or if you’re not sure you’ve read him correctly. One of the clearest signs he’s still interested in having you in his life is how much he tries to contact you after the breakup.
A significant number of repeated positive attempts to contact you is a pretty good sign for you…it shows that you’re still on his mind and that he’s reaching out to keep you at least partially in his life. It’s fairly possible that he’s realizing his mistake in breaking it off with you and coming to terms with how he feels about you.
However, you don’t need to go off half-cocked just because he’s sent you a few phone calls…you’ll need to play this pretty skillfully, as it’s a delicate matter and he may really NOT know what you mean to him even if it’s pretty obvious that he still wants you in his life. Be wary about this, because being too forward and assuming that he’s fully interested and knows he is can easily backfire and drive him further away.
It’s very possible that his desire to get back with you is subconscious and that he doesn’t really know why he’s contacting you so much other than just that he wants to…so you’ll have to take into account that he may not be “perfectly primed” to reconcile and start over.
So how do you play it if you think he’s still interested in you and may want to get back together? You can find out all you need to know about winning your ex back from the free information and videos
Trying to get the answer based on<a href=” http://www.squidoo.com/how-to-attract-your-ex-lover-back ” target=”_blank”>how to get girlfriend back</a>?
Watch a video that shows you exactly what you must NEVER do, what you should do to get your ex back and why http://www.makingupyourlove.info
You will also learn how to reverse the situation if you have already done those things that should NEVER be done.
kanetohman
http://www.articlesbase.com/dating-articles/what-should-i-do-if-i-think-my-ex-wants-me-back-737970.html
Advice and Insight Into Starting a Gift Basket Business
November 2, 2009 | Leave a Comment
Why Did You Start Your Gift Basket Business??
I originally started my Gift Basket Business because I wanted to make my life simpler. For years, I was spending over two hours a day commuting to a corporate job. I felt the need to channel my creative side, while still using my business experience. I wanted to have more hours at home with my children, and be in charge of my own success.
How Did You Start Your Gift Basket Business?
I researched the Gift Industry and Gift Basket business for several years before I finally took the plunge, and started my own business in a retail storefront. At the time, the internet was not the huge presence it is now, so I felt to reach the greatest number of customers, a retail setting would be best. The first three years were challenging in respect to learning how to manage inventory, marketing, and developing relationships with wholesale suppliers that I could count on for a ‘rush shipment’.
How Did Your Gift Basket Business Grow?
My Gift Basket business took off slowly, but by the second year, I had secured several corporate clients that ordered on a regular basis. After building my storefront retail Gift Basket business for six years, I eventually sold it to another woman who had wanted to own her own Gift Basket business all her life. She had the benefit of taking over an established business. For the past ten years, I have worked as a small business Consultant.
Whether your business is run as a home-based, retail or Internet business – I firmly believe the best form of advertising comes from several main sources: 1) Word of Mouth? 2) Ad or Recommendation from a Trusted or Familiar Web Site? 3) Direct Marketing to Companies in Your Local Area. Once you have built a chain of regular customers, they will refer you to others that ‘become’ regular buyers of your Gift Baskets.
Is Starting a Gift Basket Business From Home a Good Idea
I believe that for most situations, starting a Gift Basket from Home is the best way to go. If I had to do it over again ‘from the beginning’, I would have started my business from home, and then moved into the retail storefront. During the past few years, with the Internet developing into such a huge shopping arena – I would definitely start a Gift Basket business at home, and also have a web site e-commerce shopping site.
Having the business in your home, eliminates your cost of overhead (rent, lease). I would recommend setting aside a specific portion of your household for setup of your Gift Basket business. There are many tax advantages a home-based business can claim. Running your Gift Basket business from home, also allows you flexibility in your daily schedule, which is always nice when a family situation requires you to be there ‘right now!’.
Why Do You Think Having a Web Site is a Good Investment for the Gift Basket Business Owner?
Online shopping is growing each year, and it really is essential to have a web site to compliment any type of business that sells services or goods. Just as a Business Card is an integral piece of your business marketing, a web site is an absolute necessity – you can reach out and connect with customers in your home town and around the globe. A well designed, and fully functional e-commerce web site is an Investment that will pay you back in the first year. Plan to spend between $2000 and $4000.
What is the Most Common Mistake a Gift Basket Business Owner Makes with Their Web Site Presence?
Many Gift Basket business owners tend to shy away from the initial investment of a web site. There are so many components that go into producing a ‘well-greased’ site, and most just do not understand the importance of having a web development company create their site for them. Most think they can do it themselves – and unfortunately they end up with an inferior web site that isn’t going to perform for them – or – sell their Gift Baskets.
Any Advice to Someone Who Is thinking About Starting Their Own Gift Basket Business?
Advice? Gosh, there are so many things I’d like to focus on, but foremost – research the gift industry, and make a plan. Determine what your budget is for: inventory, marketing, and peripheral expenses. Each individual will have a different reason for starting their own Gift Basket business, so each situation will be different. Make a Backup Plan, so if things don’t go the way you originally thought, you’ll have a plan of action to implement. As a Gift Basket business owner – you’ll be wearing ‘all the hats’. Decide who is going to do what, such as the ordering, designing, delivery, accounting, marketing, etc.
What Do You Think Sets Up the Foundation for a Successful Gift Basket Business?
First: Research and Make a plan.? Second: ?Find Your Niche.? Third: Contract with an established web development company for Hosting and an e-commerce Web site. In today’s world, Gift Basket businesses are a dime a dozen. By finding your ‘niche’ you will set yourself apart from all the others. If you are selling the same ‘gift baskets’ as all the other gift basket businesses, what makes you think a customer will pick you to order from?
When Should a New Gift Basket Business Owner Expect to Make a Profit?
Running your own business isn’t easy, running a successful and profitable business is exceptionally difficult. Expect to put in long hours your first year. You’ll make mistakes – but you’ll learn from them and move forward more smoothly. Profits can be seen after the first 15 months.
Aimee Johnson
http://www.articlesbase.com/home-business-articles/advice-and-insight-into-starting-a-gift-basket-business-138073.html
Learning to Enjoy Life and be a Happier Person After Difficult Times
November 2, 2009 | Leave a Comment
First of all, I’m not a health professional. This is simply practical advice from someone who has spent many years studying, going to therapy and learning what worked for me. Everyone is different. You may want to do things totally differently. I just want you to realize that severe trauma is painful but it is something that you have survived. Now it is time to look forward and grow. Here are some tips I have used to grow in over thirty years from a shy, scared and hurt girl to a strong, and successful adult. I didn’t do everything by the books. I did it my way but learned from experts along the way.
Whether your pain is from war, childhood abuse, witnessing trauma or whatever, it is strong and best handled by talking to a professional. Therapists are helpful, go to a few and find one you truly can relate to. My whole family has been to, and been helped by them. They are there to give you advice, and help, not condemn or hurt you.
The source of my pain was due to a highly aggressive, angry and disturbed female family member. I am fortunate to be alive and functioning fully, after enduring bullying, aggression, and a host of erratic and unhealthy behavior at the hands of that person. Authorities removed me from the home and put me somewhere safer as a teen. It changed my life to be around kinder, gentler and caring people. Since that time I have spent my life learning about what it takes to relate in a healthy manner to others and being thankful to those who rescued me so long ago. I forgive those who were abusive, and those who ignored it. It took years but it did happen.
The residue from abuse or trauma can be severe depression, post-traumatic stress disorder and anxiety, like in my case. Everyone reacts to life differently, I became very sad and reclusive as a young adult, but hid it by forcing myself to go out with friends. It was a huge struggle to hide the pain sometimes. Having never learned trust, the world felt hostile, and unsafe. At times it still can, but I put it all in more proper perspective now.
Here are some tips to help if you are having trouble with adult survivor or post-traumatic issues:
Remember, the abuse or trauma was not your fault. Don’t beat yourself up about it. People chose to be the way they were, they made choices that were unhealthy. That is not your fault. Defend and nurture yourself, don’t self-hate or blame.
Keep a journal. Nobody else needs to see it. Just write down what is going on in your mind, there is no right or wrong in journaling. Get the feelings out. If you are in a domestic violence situation, I reccommend you hide the journal somewhere where it won’t be find. Keep yourself safe. But, still keep a journal, to give yourself a voice you may not have had in situations out of your control.
Don’t give up. Fight negativity and sadness. Sometimes medicines help, sometimes talk therapy is enough. Doctors can help you decide what is best for you. It took time to build up this pain. Now, do things that make you feel safe and at peace to help rebuild your faith and self confidence. I like to draw, pet my cat, play my guitar, and watch movies. Everyone has their own choices. Do what is your favorite, not what someone else wants to you to do.
Avoid highly unhealthy people. Controlling, negative, angry, mean or rude people are on the top of my list. Do not react or get emotional if these types try to engage you in battles or discussions. Put up boundaries. Even if the offending person is a close family member, establishing boundaries (letting people know your limits of what you will and won’t tolerate) is very important. Do not let others push you around. If they try, be calm and firm, keep repeating your stance on the issue or avoid them. Eventually they will learn or get lost. Do not tolerate poor treatment. You teach people how you want to be treated.
Do not get stuck in the “blame” game (who’s fault this or that problem is). It’s a losing battle, and nobody wins. A lot of my young life was dealing with this. Distance yourself from people who do this, show them that you will not engage in the debate. It is wasted energy, better used on more positive things in life.
Develop positivity, even when you feel very, very negative. Use affirmations (small phrases that are meant to uplift or comfort your mind such as, “I am intelligent, it is ok to stand up for myself,” etc. Say them or stick them on Post-It notes to remind yourself of these positive thoughts throughout the day. Eventually, if you throw enough mud against a wall, some will stick. Same with positivity. In time, it will stick. Then think up new ones and add them into your your affirmation regimen. It does work. Really. It’s fighting those negative inner voices. The more you use them, the more they replace the bad with the good thoughts.
Develop a routine, and stick with it. Be dependable to yourself. Others may not have been there for you, but YOU can be there for you. It’s true. You are your own friend or enemy. Choose to be your own friend. When things are hard for you, cut yourself some slack and stop to realize that the bad time will pass, and that you WILL be ok because you are not alone..you have you. Don’t feel sorry for yourself, just simply be a kind, supportive and understanding friend to your mind. It is uncomfortable at first if you’re not used to it, but in time, the kindness and peace it gives you is worth it.
Don’t look at the big picture, look at pieces of the puzzle and tackle them one at a time. Take care of yourself. Even if depression makes you feel like you’re walking in a big vat of quicksand, realize that baby steps will get you through it. This way, things don’t feel overwhelming. I use a Dayrunner calendar and stick to it. It helps me know what I need to do and when, when my mind is going in a hundred directions. For me, it is a powerful tool and I depend on it to keep organized. The goal is to de-stress as much as possible, using whatever tools work best for you. Simplify your life so your mind doesn’t have to work so hard to deal with everything.
Work to have peace in your life and be very careful of who you let into it. Trust must be earned. Beware of those who are angry, critical and violent or cruel to others or animals. See how a person reacts when angry, that can be a good clue to see if this person has anger management issues. True narcissists and overly self-absorbed people are hard to live with or relate to. Big, fat, red flag. Also, those who have had very shady pasts. Past behavior gives you a glimpse into what their future behavior may be like, according to experts.
Learn from the past, but don’t get stuck in it. I look back on my past to reflect on how much I’ve grown and learned, not to waste energy thinking of all the bad things that happened. It is more important to focus on the present, to make an even better future. Grieve the past then let it go. Sometimes it won’t go away, but with healing, the thoughts will lessen. Let yourself heal by focusing on positive and helpful things you can do to improve your life right now.
Hopefully, these tips are helpful to you. That’s my therapy in a nutshell. I am happier now at 43 than I ever was when younger, due to knowing myself better. I’m a busy professional, and there is no trauma in my life anymore. If it comes up, it will be dealt with, with skills learned through life. Being resourceful and learning to be positive are important to being a successful survivor. Sure, there is still self-doubt and pain deep down, but those feelings lessen, with more positive, productive thoughts to replace them. Do not give up on yourself or your life. I owe my own success to a strong amount of stubbornness and persistence, which I consider good traits. Know yourself, and surround yourself with those who will nurture and help you grow. We’re like plants, feed and nurture and we grow. Ignore, and we wither up. Choose to grow..and you will not only survive but prosper.
Carolyn McFann
http://www.articlesbase.com/self-help-articles/learning-to-enjoy-life-and-be-a-happier-person-after-difficult-times-126066.html
Shine on Me ..
November 2, 2009 | Leave a Comment
(For additional articles written by me please visit my blog on http://www.readitlive.com )
I have met many people in my life, but I’ve met no one like Sitara.
That spring of 2001, I was one of the last passengers to get off flight PK 724. The rush had mostly cleared off the airport. Dragging the luggage behind me, I pushed my glasses up my nose and strained my eyes. I’d never actually been to my parents’ homeland before but I’d seen enough pictures of my Pakistani family to recognize her, standing by the railing, looking directly at me and smiling.
Fariha and Altaf Hamid had decided to migrate to the US back in the 1970’s, when everyone was leaving Pakistan in search of better opportunities. Starting as modest clinical psychiatrists in a community hospital in Saint Louis, Missouri, they now owned the best psychiatric hospital in town. And I was their son, their only child.
Once in the US, my parents had gotten stuck in the mechanical life, like bearings in a machine. They worked hard at their careers, built a home, had a child and opened a hospital. They just never had time, a reason or even family to come back to. My father was the only child and my mother had one sister, whose daughter was now waiting for me beyond the glass doors of the arrival hall. Even though I was born and raised in America, ‘The Promised Land’ where people have it all, I had always felt like there was something missing in my life. I’d never been able to put my finger on it, and that was exactly why I had flown 16 hours that day.
“I’m a star. You?” were Sitara’s first words as she greeted me, smiling mischievously, showing a perfect set of white teeth.
“I’m a fan,” I said, half amazed, half confused, not really sure how to answer that. That was not the kind of greeting I had expected from a Pakistani girl.
Once on the streets of Lahore, I could not believe what I saw; wide four-laned roads with a river of cars flowing from one side to the other, huge billboards displaying all kinds of consumer accessories and buildings that weren’t exactly skyscrapers, but certainly had more than two or three floors.
“I thought America had billboards, too,” Sitara said, probably noticing me gawking out of the window with a slightly opened mouth, which I closed immediately, realizing I must have been looking like a fool.
“Yeah, of course, America has billboards. I just didn’t know Pakistan did, too,” I said, momentarily taking my eyes off the road and looking at her. “Where are the donkeys?”
“The Donkeys?” she inquired, as if wanting the name of a specific one, so that she could provide me with an address and phone number.
“Yeah, mom told me there are donkeys and horses with carts strapped to their backs out on the streets. I was really looking forward to meeting them!” I explained.
Sitara chuckled childishly and said, “At this time of the night, they’re probably sleeping. Poor souls don’t have the cable or internet to keep ‘em up.”
“I have a feeling you were expecting a twenty years younger version of Pakistan,” she added after a slight pause.
“Yeah, that’s what mom told me,” I said sheepishly, slightly ashamed of my lack of knowledge of the world outside the US.
“Well boy, you’re in for some surprises!” she said and stepped on the accelerator, hitting 100 km/h on the wide, street-lit road.
The twenty minute drive from the airport to Khala Jee’s place was all the time Sitara needed to find her comfort zone with me. Shy at first, not knowing what to say to a Pakistani girl who was so different from my expectations, I soon relaxed as she told me how different I was from what she had pictured. Apparently, I had to have multi-colored hair, a tattoo on my shoulder and pants torn at the knees to qualify as an ABCD (American Born Confused Desi.)
“Hello, meet Kitty,” she said, introducing me to my first family and home in Pakistan, “She’s my cat. She’ll be in charge of cleaning your bones. No no, not your bones, the bones of the chicks and goats you eat, once you’re done with them that is, or maybe before that, too. Sometimes she tends to jump on the table and insists on eating with us. Here, meet Sara, she’s fourteen and without a doubt the proudest nerd of the world. She feels honoured to tell everyone her glasses are a centimeter thick! And here’s Saad, he’s ten and very shy. Saad, say Salam to Waqas Bhai, he has chocolates in his bag and for God’s sakes stop hiding behind me!”
In the next room, I greeted Khaloo and Khala Jee, who were extremely delighted to hear me calling them Khaloo and Khala instead of Aunty and Uncle. My mother had always taught me to call my relations by their Urdu names. Khala Jee was an exceptionally beautiful woman, sharing my mother’s sharp features, only more chiseled and refined. In comparison, I thought Khaloo Jee was like any other Pakistani man, average built, wheatish complexion and graying hair. Their kids had inherited their father’s complexion with their mother’s features, making the most harmonious balance between genes that I’d ever seen.
The one month I spent in that ‘Land of the Pure’ seems one short day now, it passed so quickly. Yet I can remember each day because it was so different from the previous one. My host family left no stone unturned to make me feel at home and an important part of their family. I, in turn, did my best to help them by trying not to have diarrhea.
Sitara and I were the same age; she was actually two months older. After having graduated from college in the summer, she was taking a year off before starting university. When Khaloo and Khala Jee went to work every day and the kids to school, Sitara and I were left at home to make plans for ourselves. And every day was an adventure with her.
Sometimes we would spend the whole day cooking, mixing Sitara’s Pakistani culinary skills with the simple American cuisines I’d learnt at college, to come up with food like Pizza-handi or Macaroni and cheese biryani. Neither of us was good at it, but we had a hell of a lot of fun passing our inventions around the table at night, sometimes stifling our laughter when Khala Jee said things like, “You two should open a restaurant!” Little did she know that the masterpiece she was appreciating had been burnt three times and started from scratch again!
After a day of all the girly work, as a joke, Sitara and I would play PlayStation in the evening. I would beat her at Tekken3 and feel like a boy again.
When we went shopping, we would park the car in the parking lot and walk around the whole area. I was very fond of walking; it gave me more time to observe the things around me. Sitara on the other hand, hated it and got tired quickly, which gave us an excuse to sit at random places with a snack and have people stare at us. I guess sitting on the sidewalk, on the stairs outside a shop or the bonnet of the car wasn’t much appreciated. Sitara once dared me to talk to a shopkeeper in Urdu and ask him if I could use the washroom. What I said roughly translated to “You should go to the washroom.” I was furious at his reaction, until Sitara dragged me out of the shop, barely audible through her fit of laughter and explained to me my horrendous misuse of ‘aap’ (you) in place of ‘mein’ (me).
On weekends, we’d visit the historic places in Lahore. We’d pack a picnic basket and dine in the huge gardens of The Lahore Fort or The Shahi Qila. Sometimes Khaloo and Khala would tell us stories, how they used to come to these places very often as kids because there was no other form of entertainment. There were stories about Khala Jee losing her way once in The Badshahi Masjid and crying for hours before my mom found her, and about Khaloo being offered a candy at The Shalimar Gardens, which he had learnt as a baby not to accept from strangers. And then there were stories that Sitara told me, that I’m pretty sure had nothing to do with reality. “See those vents there?” she said, pointing at the small, barred, window-like openings at the base of the walls of Emperor Jahangir’s Tomb. “Those are dungeons that were used for prisoners. I once came here on a school trip and they opened this small trapdoor for us students to visit underground. They say Jahangir’s wife, Noor Jehan, is buried there and the place is haunted by her spirit. It smelt so strongly of roses down there it wasn’t even funny!”
Living amongst Khala Jee’s family, I soon found out that they, like any other family, were not without problems. What I admired about them was their optimism, their effort to enjoy every single day and not let their worries show. A middle class family struggling to meet its expenses in an inflation stricken economy, Khaloo Jee had taken loans to finance Sitara’s education, which he had no means to pay back. Khala Jee had been a heart patient ever since she’d lost her two year old, Adil, six years ago. I gradually noticed that Sitara was the one who kept them all up. She’d bake a cake to cheer up Sara for getting an A minus on her Math test instead of an A plus. She’d play video games with Saad and teach him how to spell words like ‘multitudinous’ or ’synthesized.’ She’d resolve differences between her parents whenever needed. Suffice it to say, she was the lifeline of that family.
Khaloo and Khala Jee were mostly busy with their jobs but whenever we got time Khaloo Jee would explain to me the economics of Pakistan. The huge influx of money, rapid development, lower interest rates, increasing job opportunities, and right when I’d conclude that all these things were good, he’d delve into the details of how all of it was hyper-inflating the economy. It was small wonder he was a banker. Khala Jee had more to ask than tell. Not having seen her sister in over twenty years, I know she missed her a lot. All she talked about was mom, stories of herself and mom as kids and our lives in the US. Sara, really was the most ardent nerd I’d ever come across. I seldom saw her around the house as she would confine herself to her room behind a fort of books. I’m not even sure if she slept at night because I never found the light in her room switched off. Maybe she kept it on in case of a sudden wake-up-and-study nerd revelation in the middle of the night. The few times I got a chance to talk to her, we discussed Math, education systems in Pakistan and America, and places she could apply to for a PhD. No matter how much I tried, we never tread out of the realm of studies. Saad, who eventually shed his robe of shyness, turned out to be a very friendly kid. I sometimes made small talk with him but I had a feeling he was more interested in my ipod, my cell phone, my digital camera and wristwatch, than he was in me as a person.
But no matter how interesting the days were, what I would never forget about Pakistan were the nights. My second night in the country, Sitara took me to the rooftop where she had two easy chairs, a table in between with a stereo and journal on it. It looked like a place she regularly visited.
“Do you see those stars over there?” she said, pointing towards a cluster in the sky.
“Yeah,” I replied, looking in that direction.
“Can you see how they look like an arrow?” she asked.
“Errr…” I took my time trying to make out the arrow she was talking about, but I could see the stars making no shape whatsoever. “No, they just look like regular stars to me,” I replied, feeling stupid and sorry that I couldn’t see what she was trying to show me.
“Of course they are regular stars, silly!” she said and traced her hand across the sky, showing me how that regular cluster of stars looked like an arrow.
Thus began our long nights.
“I think I’m one of them,” Sitara began to explain, but seeing the confused expression on my face she added, “Sitara means ’star’ in Urdu.”
“Oh, so that’s what you meant at the airport! I thought you were this arrogant little wanna be movie star or something, trying impress her Umreeka-returned cousin,” I said, doing that Desi accent that I simply loved.
She smiled. “Yes, that’s what I meant. I’ve always believed I’m one of the stars. You know, when good people die they become stars and shed their light on the world forever. See those two bright stars over there? That one is my friend, Mohsin. He died in a car accident when we were ten. And that one beside him, that’s Hina. We were best friends for as long as I can remember. She died last year of cancer.”
Before I could interrupt her with a word of comfort, she continued. “I come up here and talk to them whenever I need to get away from everything. The stars, they’re so high up there, they can probably see every single person down here. You know, Waqas, when you’re feeling low and your problems seem to be the biggest in the world, think of yourself as a star and how very small you and your problems look to them, compared to the world as a whole. It’s like you’re this very small part of this very big world. It makes you think of other people with bigger problems than yours.”
“It’s best up in the mountains!” she said suddenly, totally changing the topic. That’s what I loved about her; she never lingered on the sad parts for too long. “I love our summer vacation up north ‘coz, 9000 feet above sea level, the sky is much clearer and closer. I don’t know why or how, but even the stars seem happier. They’re so close to each other, it’s like a tightly knit web of glitter above your head. It’s very beautiful. I sometimes sit by the window all night just looking at the sky. Ma doesn’t let me sit outside there, she says either the cold would get me or a wolf would…” She rambled on in a high squeaky voice, excited like a child when he’s showing off his new toy.
“Why didn’t you take up astrology as a major in college?” I asked. It would’ve been the best career option for her, considering the passion she had for the subject.
“I thought about it, I even took a few classes but then I realized I didn’t wanna know about the scientific figures and explanations. ‘Coz whenever science comes into something, emotion goes out of it,” she explained, “And I don’t want to think of stars as cold heavenly bodies, made out of dense particles of molecular clouds and blah.”
Trying to set her facts right, I said, “Just because you see them silver from down here, it doesn’t mean they’re cold. Temperatures of stars actually vary from 2000K—”
“See!” she said, cutting me in mid-sentence, probably irritated by this manly urge to be scientifically accurate. “Whatever Science comes in to, emotion goes out of!”
We would come up to the rooftop every night, after getting done with the day’s work, and sit there for hours, looking at the stars and talking. I was very fond of talking. Talking about everything and anything at all. More than intellectual discussions about Science and Technology, I savoured conversations about petty things, apparently meaningless, but representative of details that are often overlooked otherwise. Talking, I was told, was girlish and I was aware of my girlish tendencies so I often kept them to myself. But with Sitara, I never had to.
In that one short month, I learnt so much more about Pakistan than I could have imagined, not as much through experience than through these talks. In the little things Sitara told me about her life, from childhood to maturity, I could see intricate details of their culture, customs and lifestyle, most of which were very different from my own. Usually, we’d have contrasting points of view about things, which only gave us more food for talk.
It has been seven years since that spring of 2001. Today, Sitara is happily married and the mother of a beautiful baby girl. When I came back to the States after my first visit to Pakistan, I realized that my perception of my own life started to change, which encouraged me to think that maybe I was closer to finding answers to some of my questions, the very reason I had made the expedition to the Subcontinent anyway.
Those long nights under the starlit sky made me realize how important it was to make time for myself, to rest ever so often and actually think about where life was taking me. I looked around and found people drenched in the sweat of the day’s work, weighed down with bills that were ever increasing, children who became troublesome with each passing day, careers that needed more hard work, families and homes that screamed out for attention. Once caught in the raging storm of life, people struggled without respite, never stopping, even for a moment, to ponder where the wind was taking them. Sitara taught me how to take a break, to surround myself with just myself and nature, with myself and God, when I needed to take a break.
Through these seven years, Sitara and I have been in touch via email every now and then, but at night, when I sit on the balcony outside my bedroom window and stare at the stars, I need no email to know how she is. Now I understand. Sitara did not talk to the stars in the sky, she talked to herself, a star on earth. In the face of all the dilemmas she had ever faced, she did not, like a million other people I knew, complain about the fact that there were no answers, she actually made the sincere effort of finding them. When I made the honest effort of traveling 15,000 miles in search of what my life lacked, I found the key to the answers to my questions, lying with her. Sitara, by teaching me how to talk to stars, had not just given me the power to talk to myself but a way of talking to her, too. When I look at those shiny specks of light at night, I learn so much more about her life than she ever says in emails. Every so often, I look at the sky, asking questions, knowing that after ten hours, when the same stars shine outside Sitara’s window, I’ll have my answers.
Sitara was right; she is the star of my life.
And I’m a fan.
Sidra Nadeem
http://www.articlesbase.com/fiction-articles/shine-on-me–107190.html
