Holiday Meaning

HDR Guru Gobind Singh procession
HDR Guru Gobind Singh procession (Photo credit: NightFall404)

I am not sure what it is about the Holidays that seems to bring out the best and worst in people. What I really mean is Desis since we actually don’t celebrate Christmas. Oh sure, we can pretend Diwali is a big deal, and we also throw in their Guru Gobind Singh‘s ji celebration, but really I still don’t get what is about the holidays that gets us so emotional.   Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe everyone is going on as they should, and I am the one that is calling out motivations that are there. Confused? Good.  So am I.

I am still on a high about some of my family doing the Thanksgiving Trot with me, and making Tiramisu and cream cheese bites for that gathering.  Yes, it’s these little things that get me excited because, let’s face it, I am not getting any younger. I may still feel like I am 21, but the fact is, I am not up on the music, the culture, or really anything to do with being 21 (well maybe, the drinking) including going out or wearing the right clothes (according to my wife, I dress like a 45-year-old which I take to be a compliment).   Yet each day, I am thankful for the life I have. I am  grateful that I can get out of bed, take my dog for a walk, enjoy the slightly  chilly morning, and then do a few other set things like meditating and praying to get my day going.

I am still struggling though. There isn’t a day that I don’t get a reminder that I am not 100% or the person I used to be prior to my surgery. But you know what, that’s OK. I know I am doing my best, and some days that’s all that matters. So this Holiday has a special meaning for me because there was a chance I couldn’t be here to celebrate them. There are some in my life who I wish had stayed, and there are others that are drifting (and that’s OK).  So I wake up each morning, and take a few minutes just to be thankful for all that I have. And that’s enough for now.

Journal, Myself, Preeti

Life Failed: Love/Family Did Not

By Jemal Yarbrough

I am not Sanjay Sabarwal, co-owner of Ziba Beauty.  I am not a lawyer.  I am not a promoter.  I am not a double major from UCLA.  I am not a columnist.  I am not a former volunteer at the Lexington Juvenile detention center in Kentucky.  I am not a past political intern.  NCTE) I am not a stroke victim.  I am not familiar with cancer.

I am not,  I am not, I am not any of these facts.  All my life, even at this moment, I have believed I was destined to be something greater; more significant, a personality. Focusing only on my desires and wants, I forgot how to be.  Spending energy (and credit cards) to showcase a life imagined by many but afforded by few, I drowned my soul painfully.  Surrounded by many gadgets and the must of my dog (her dog), I became empty, a negative, a compilations of could be’s, would be’s, should-be’s, would’ve’s.

So who am I?  Perhaps that’s not as an interesting a question as what I am.  I am part of a love that I did not think possible, that I had heard of and seen in fiction.  After 4 years, her face is still the first image projected onto my thoughts.  Her eyes an amazing greenish-yellow, rivaling those of cats (domestic and otherwise), her temper and stubbornness exasperating but befitting the queen she has the potential to be.

Then there is my family, my energy trough where I go to replenish myself.  I draw my strength from them like a greedy gambler who can’t get enough. I steal their inspiration and good wishes so I can face the cannot’s and will not’s in my life.  I use their love and faith in me to see myself.  It is then I become Sanjay Sabarwal.