oil

So finally i know!
I will have my little operation on Thursday (tomorrow).

Yesterday, quite late, a sikhfriend came straight from gurdwara to visit me.
He brought some special oil, given by a sant. The sant left Belgium already, but my friend specially phoned him in Germany.
To straighten my finger, i had to put the oil on, leave it at least 4 hours covered. I was not allowed to leave the house. Doing simran would only make the therapy stronger. In the morning i had to wash the oil off, do simran again, go to the gurdwara to do ardas and donate some sugar or ata.
The finger would be cured...
...

I wish my faith was so strong... so i did not do it.
This morning i had to go to my familydoctor and she said:
" Western medicine can not cure everything! So the finger is something technically, but we can try it on your other arthrosis effected zones"
And my doctor does not even believe in homeopathy! But she is a very religious woman...
So i will have the operation tomorrow and then try to cure (let me choose, euuh...) my feet with the oil.
The power of faith...

What do you think?

When part of the sangat left our first gurdwara; discussions about the power of the(se) sant(s) was one of the causes. Is this part of sikhism or part of an ancient culture?
At one hand it confuses me, at the other hand i wish i could accept so easily and have blind faith...
Out there in blogland are so many young well educated young sikhs, living in both cultures. What do you think?
Please tell me.

counting the days

poetry out of the hard reality...

traces

where are they gone?

some people i visited in india, after they were deported.
some are fine, some never recover...

familiar

amongst the inmates were sikhs of course. some really did do something wrong or stupid.
most of them were just here without any legal papers. and that is a reason for going to jail in this country, amongst thieves and murderers.
they had to spend here a few days and were brought then to a detention centre and next deported to india.
with all their broken dreams, with a broken life...
i spotted a few of their signs...
it made me really sad...

big brother

God can see you
one does not curse

between the lines

i went to an art exhibition. Oh no not again.
it was held in a closed down prison. i made a lot of pictures.
but i am trained to read between the lines (poet) so i made a lot of pics next to the art.
there was of course a lot of dirty talking, rascism, hooliganism, drugs etc.
but sometimes there were religious cries as well.
it touched me to the bone, because i visited a lot of refugees in jail. But i only saw them in the visiting hall, never in their cells.
but suddenly being in their rooms with no natural light or air, with no contact, just four walls with dirty talk and broken furniture.
chilling...

twice

well, that's something...
twice as nice...

writer

the frustration of every writer...
one should read between the lines, but if there are no lines...

maybe this is just the perfect poem.

poppy story

so fragile... like the wings of a butterfly

poppy story 2

welcome little sevadars, welcome!

poppy story 3

firework in our quiet garden...

poppy story 4

fallen in full battle dress...
it is difficult to let go, but all part of His plan.

poppy story 5

still standing tall...

poppy story6

Last task to do. Wind, my friend i am waiting for you...

Simran

M.Singh Ji in deep simran.

spiritual sisters

Two of my spiritual sisters.
Not seeing each other a lot (actually very little for the moment), but always happy to see each other. Picking up in a minute, like time is of no matter...

more roads...

In front someone of Bahai religion (Bahai-ist?)in deep meditation.In the back some muslim young men.
There are many roads to God, they are equal to each other, so there is no reason for arguing, fighting, war.
We must see it this way, there is no other.

We are still missing on people of Buddhism and Hindusm. But with the growing refugee population it will happen soon.

United we are strong.United we will stand before Waheguru.

One God

Interfaith meditation in January 2006 in our gurdwara.

There is this strong, strong feeling: there is One God. Ek Ongkar.

Joined in prayer a roman catholic priest, a iman and our granthi.

Peace in the world has to start on this little scale and then it will grow and grow...
Shanti, shanti, shanti...

World Refugee Day

Have some catching up to do. Sorry, on top of all this reuma business, i got summerflew and felt completely miserable. But i am better now, thank God.
Thank you for caring, Anoop and ss.

So, i'll start on last Sunday.
We had a special service (held on different other places as well) in the protestant church. All religions, which are members of the Interfaith meditation contributed to the ceremony. Christians (catholics and protestants), people from Bahai, muslims and sikhs. And someone of the "free-thinkers" (nonbelievers) with a Jewish prayer.
The sikhs sung some beautiful kirtan.(Sorry picture is not clear)
It is so powerful when we are united in our care for all the refugees in the world.
We wish that all refugees can find a place, a country, where they can start a new and safe life.
Fateh! Fateh!

wake up

Taken in Gurdwara Bangla Sahib november 2005

sleep

who needs a bed?
Sikhs (Indians) can sleep anywhere, no matter what.
Sleeping in the house of our Father...

jip and janneke

Jip and Janneke are a little boy and girl out of a Dutch children's book. I read them all to my children when they were young. And i am reading them now for my granddaughter. They are a wonderful part of some many children's childhood.

These 2 kiddies reminded me very much of them.

Instead of giving money to children, i give them little boxes of raisins or dried apple pieces. On these little boxes are the images of... Jip and Janneke.
So on my last trip i took a few kilo of these little boxes ("are you experienced?")
I saw so many happy children's faces! So worthwhile.

sadu

undefined
living on gifts...
waiting for me every day...

begging

What i never get used to is begging people. I know what the guides are saying, so i did refuse sometimes. Was irritated sometimes, was arrogant sometimes (a trick that my friends learned me and that works!).
But that is not like me, so many times i did look them in the eyes and the only thing i could do was give. To them we are the rich ones (even i had a limited budget), you can not blame them.
But i felt shy and uneasy to be considered the rich one.
Sometimes they wanted to do something back and offered to be on a picture. But i was to shy to install anything.
Framing someone else's misery makes me feel guilty. So pictures are not really clear.
I had my "daily clients" and looking back at them now, softens my heart.
Waheguru, take good care of them (send Rochelle there with a lot of money!)

stolen flower

"Wealth, the beauty of youth and flowers are guests for only a few days"

Guru Nanak Dev Ji

(i think i read that somewhere else today? Solarider's blog?)

look auntie

Look auntie, bollywood style!

The sweetest children in Amritsar.
Auntie thinks of you every day.

little warrior

Isn't he brave?
He didn't fear any adult, courageous little one!

The dropping socks.... a kid, but what a Singh!

marigold

Marigold everywhere. Tagetes is called in French: Rose des Indes.
And in Dutch we call it "goudsbloem", which is translated goldflower.

But i realise that most people nickname them "stinkertjes" (=stinkies)
And... at the same time "afrikaantjes" (=little africans)
I just realise this is hidden racism!
What a message is given if stinkies are africans.
Am i overreacting on this item or is this just one of the many language traps coming from a far colonial history?

food

This photo appeals to all my senses.
Yummy!!!
Normally they warn for food sold on the streets, but i think all this fried food is safe.
The food that is not cooked and has touched water (fruits, salads, ice cream etc) is mostly not safe.
Unless you have a stomach made of iron...
Please be careful, once you get sick, you can be very, very sick.

(Or should that be: once you get sikh, you got very sikh? True just the same!)

punjab

Within a few months Rochelle (fiercetigress) is leaving for India.
Very rare everyday life and persons are in the guides. So i thought i post some pictures of Punjab in this way. So i can have some fun of her preparation as well.

Mostly i don't know the people on it, but the background information is saying a lot.
So every time i am posting, i am actually going back in time.
Homesick, homesick every time...

light

Waheguru, walking in Your Light...

framed

On the same evening i could capture this young couple.

Old sun, new love...

old friends

This weekend i was at the seaside. This is one of the pictures i took.
The man and the woman on the beach-bench were strangers, they were wearing summerclothes.

Still they reminded me of a song of Simon and Garfunkel: "Old Friends"
I give you a few lines i remember


Old friends
sat on on their parkbench like bookends

...

old friends, winter companions, the old men
lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset

...

can you imagine us years from today
sharing a parkbench quietly
how terribly strange to be seventy

old friends, memory brushes the same years,
silently sharing the same fears

trigger

Since Nolly has seen my trigger finger, i just can show it to all of you. So here it is my blocked trigger finger.
And honestly it is like that all the time, i can not move it one bit. Skin is becoming very pale (i hope it will not drop off one day)
Anyhow injections did not work, so it will be an operation. First all the tests again. Because not only me, but the doctors as well are terrified to operate me (that is with my medical history)
O dear, i am the centre of (medical) attention again...

"But speak and i will be healthy again...."

news

Got some news.

The bad news first: i got a "trigger finger". And it blocked (due to reuma), so i need a little operation to make it function again.
Not a big deal, but i start to hate hospitals and operations. Too many times everything went wrong during operations, so i am a little uneasy.
But i give it all in Waheguru's hands (and the surgeon of course)!

The good news is that this snapping finger is on my righthand side and i am righthanded, so i am safed from almost all the household chores. Hahaha!
My poor family! Now i have a good excuse for bossing around... not that i do so, you know me.
My family blames this on blogging, hope i don't have to cut down on that.
Though i must admit it hurts, so i am using my left hand now. Better train my left hand because after the operation my hand will be packed for a while (my thumb blocked already years ago, so maybe they do both fingers?)

Waheguru, i am addicted.

Nice weekend for everyone. Enjoy the summer!

both

In bloggingworld people have some serious "conversations". Lately Prabhu Ji and S ji both made strong statements. I am so relieved they handled it in a gentleman's style. Good of you, mates, that is how brothers handle these things.

And i saw them "united" in the art gallery with This statue:"silliehead with daisies"
Should look for the real title actually.

silliehead with a daisy

old books

I wonder What Mother Mary is reading to her son Jesus? I can not be the Bible, that is for sure!

I do not know which saint is on the second image, but long hair, a Holy Book, a sword? Do you think what i am thinking....

books in art

This weekend i visited some art galleries. Some were outdoors. Like this one.
I noticed that "books" catch my attention all the time. Wonder why?

Photography is a greek word. Phos is light. Graphein is to write.
So photography is to write with light.

So when i am too busy with "other things in life" instead of writing a book, i make a photo of a book, made by some devoted artist who spends his/her time creating instead of other things.
And the photo i make, is just the same as writing with ink, only i use light.

Darn i think i just killed a beautiful thought by explaining it.
hope you understand what i mean...

remember

For those who are remembered this weekend. For those who will never be forgotten...

I honor them with a part of a poem out of the Great War written by soldier-doctor John McCae (1915): In Flanders Fields

[...]


Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

next to you

" if looking back hurts you
and looking ahead makes you afraid
then look next to you
i will be there


papa"