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(A NOVEL FOR THE YOUNGSTERS)
DR. H. SINGH (email@example.com)
A LEGENDARY FORWORD FOR A NOVEL THAT COMPLETED IN MORE THAN 20 YEARS!
In a troubled world—a world more troubled than I have ever witnessed in my sixty years of living—Dr. Harmander Singh’s writings remind me that it is possible to live with inner peace, even in this time of universal apprehension over a declining economy. A Media Consultant, Education Counselor, poet and author of fifteen books, Dr. Singh has dedicated his life to studying human nature. As a result of his in-depth studies, he sheds light on how the Law of Affinity versus the Law of Attraction.
Born into this world with nothing, we would not exist long without caregivers or parents. Without those who existed before us, now coexisting with us, feeding, sheltering, loving and protecting us, we would die. As Dr. Singh explains, the Law of Affinity is the natural need in all of us to coexist, live in harmony as we serve, nurture and love one another. As he further explains, the Law of Attraction—our human yet often unconscious desire for too much glitter, wealth and recognition can lead to our greed, which often causes us to despise our competitors and, diminishing our first instinct to coexist, can lead to war.
Although, when we think of war, we often think of young, wounded soldiers on bloody battlefields, Dr. Singh addresses the war of our spirits—the war of our inner selves where all wars begin. In addressing our inner wars, he shares from his research and personal experiences how we can heal ourselves by resorting back to the natural—who we were meant to be and how we were meant to live.
After meeting Dr. Singh, not in person but through his exceptional poetry while editing an anthology for the Canadian Federation of Poets for the Anthology of Birth, in which his poem The Glow of Birth will appear, I am impressed. Not only am I impressed by his insight into the human spirit but human behaviour.
Especially for those of you who are struggling to obtain inner peace in a discontented world, I recommend Dr. Singh’s newest book A Sensitive Peace Lover.
Christina Cowling Published Poet and Author of short stories, Editor (http://www.lulu.com/content/4826464)
INTRODUCTION AND KEYWORDS:
Moreover, the novel focuses on the economic depression in the context of depression in creativity and sensitivity. The keywords involve the bipolar disorders, youth, writer, poet, artist, novel, sensitivity, handling emotions, schizophrenia, religious mania, stress, ignored-neglectedtalents, social ignorance, wisdom, anguish, gloom, joy, overcoming failures, pills, medicines, painter, hobbies, delinquency and the awareness about how to handle it, instant lessons for meditation, loneliness and company, ecological and economic depression, counseling, learning from experiences, self-felt feelings, imaginations, how to control anger, moods and so on. (The children, youngsters and even the elders have a global simile in sensitivity, creativity and curiosity. It is like a healing touch that we give to what we read, reflect, think, feel, ponder and enjoy so that we may have sensitivity nourishing and nurturing the peace-the feelings of compassion that shines on when the smiling faces enjoy it.)
We all understand it: As the sensitivity in the teenage is globally shared, so the readers can be of any background in culture and tradition as the focus is on the human sensitivity and the role of tides of moods that one experiences. The children, youngsters and even the elders have a global simile in sensitivity,
creativity and curiosity. It is like a healing touch that we give to what we read, reflect, think, feel, ponder and enjoy so that we may have sensitivity nourishing and nurturing the peace that shines on when the smiling faces enjoy it.
A young human faces so many troubles in life right from childhood that it can destroy the creativity present within. Then many go to take medicines, the pills, the excessive use of alcohol and anger that one feels seems as if one is ignored by the society. The brand new labels of diseases can make the person to struggle with the self and the society. The polar disorder, schizophrenia, religious mania, stress, anxiety, compulsive disorders and so many suppressions, named for such mental health, can give less chance to find the creativity out of the selfindulgence. However, the main character; who faces all of such intellectual, emotional, social and thus mental health problems struggles. One day suddenly, he meets his teacher and her brother. It changes his entire life. The teacher’s brother gets the wisdom that may help for selfhealing. The teacher, who is also a humanistic psychologist and counselor changes the outlook of the way the society feels and deals with the creative people.
The plant of sensitivity, which during our childhood and teenage seems blossoming like the plant of the sunflower, we just feel sad, stressful and nervous due to the night of ignorance that comes in everyday of our life, when we close our eyes to feel as a young and sensitive persons sensibly. The joy of having the flower seems so high that our nerves ignore the simile that is present within a human; the sensitivity is like a flower and nervousness is just trying to save the flower lest the fragrance leaves the feelings. The words are from books but on getting touch of feelings and fragrance of sensitivity helps these words sprout like a flower. We have so many flowers that the plants bearing it seems just standing alone in anguish as if waiting for someone to see it with poet’s eye and compassion. The humanly nervousness is like a plant bearing the
flowers of feelings and fragrance of sensitivity, the glowing of relatedness and belongingness. Therefore, we seem in need of such a conversation in which a person or group may participate as being the first, second and or the third person.
This lively conversation in the novel is for our use, as if we use it as counseling and psychotherapy for children and youngsters, we may find and feel that we need to give the personal touch to words, meanings and feelings, at such moments the granny’s philosophical psychotherapy works. The sensitivity is the essence of creativity, the creative thinking and arts. Thus, in this novel, the main aim is to help the young and the sensitive ones to feel that we can enjoy our sensitivity in its full richness as in our daily life we have the thoughts, emotions, feelings, reactions and thus our sensitivity to enjoy peaceful resolution to the struggle within us. The sensitivity is a healing touch so that we may adjust creatively. In nutshell, it is food for anyone, who is creative and artistic. A reader of any age, culture and tradition may read and enjoy it as the sensitivity is globally shared, and the novel focuses on it.
SYNOPSIS-THE DETAILS IN NUTSHELL:
A young man, who is an artist, writer, poet, and thus have many creative arts to exhibit his brilliance in life fails as he needs someone to understand him to regain what he deserves. He starts to dwell on the medicines and tries to keep himself busy, which is just making life as if of work-alcoholic. So, he faces so many troubles in life right from childhood that it could have destroyed the creativity present within. Then, as a result, he goes to take medicines, the pills and the brand new labels of diseases making one to struggle with the self and the society. It is not his story; it is the story of any human, who is sensitive peace lover. Such people believe that we should live in the co-existence as if following the law of affinity The polar disorder, schizophrenia, religious mania, stress, anxiety, compulsive disorders and so many suppressions, named for such mental health, can give less chance to find the creativity out of the self-indulgence. However, the main character; who faces all of such intellectual, emotional, social and thus mental health problems struggles. He represents our emotional struggle for not only the creativity, but also the emotional maturity. While, reading about it, the discussion is as if the conclusions that we may have for giving ourselves a gift that never loses its smell and fragrance. The fragrance of creativeness
spreads on sharing and we can explore it by doing so, the gift of sharing is thus the fragrance of unspoken words and feelings. Eventually, one day suddenly, he meets his teacher and her brother. It changes his entire life. The teacher’s brother also gets the wisdom helpful for self-healing. The teacher, who is also a humanistic psychologist and counselor changes the outlook of the way the society feels and deals with the creative people. It resolves many of the problems that he alone could not have. One of the examples is the questions that we face when we try to deal with the society. The society is intellectual as that we know the good personality works. However, the novel conveys that we can overcome this problem, while remaining creative, sensible, sensitive and enjoying life to the best possible way, which is the art of peace loving. Let us find how they did it. With a wonderful foreword from Christina Cowling, the great and ideal Canadian poetess, writer and editor; it goes on the shelf of lulu: http://www.lulu.com/content/4826464
I was strolling in the Peace Garden, enjoying its natural beauty at my home city Surry, near Vancouver, the beautiful city in Canada, while also deliberating about my studies in USA. My aim, as lifetime dream came true as I finished my doctorate last year, in education. I did it with specialization in role and need of counseling in personal life for self-study and learning after leaving formal education. I always enjoy the results of the research work that some students leave school after grade 10 and very few go to do post graduation and doctorate. It happens to be a golden chance doing the practical research work on different people without age consideration and their educational and social background. While I was walking and indulged in my self-absorption enriched with these thoughts making me feel proud of what I have done, my eyes started to follow the rows of beautiful flowers; it seemed a very beautiful sight spreading the mixed fragrance. It was not allowing my eyes to blink as looking both the flowers and the rows were so refreshing while going along and doing so. All of a sudden my eyes noticed the back of a person who was facing the flowers, I moved ahead and saw a young man sitting alone on the grass and looking at the plants and flowers; at times he was also gazing at grass and trees. He was absorbed to such an extent that he was not aware at all about the surroundings. His gazing made me feel that he was enjoying nature in unusual way. I left the place without any thought about his unusual attitude towards nature, though I wondered if I could do that way. I love nature, but his way was different and unusual. Next day, I saw him again, he was writing something; while sitting near the rows of flowers in the garden. He was sitting alone, though in the solitude, yet very peacefully. I also enjoyed this humanly feelings of joy in the solitude. I could grasp the theme and concept of what he was writing, as it seemed clear
that he was writing something about nature and its beauty, as he was looking flowers, plants and trees. I usually saw him sitting there enjoying the little things as if these are of great importance. Slowly, I began to appreciate him. I liked the way he would look at everything in the garden. I saw him enjoying even the colorful honeybees, butterflies and flying birds in the garden. He would watch the butterfly arriving at the flowers on the plants, sitting on different flowers as if one swims on the sea of beauty. The way he would view made me feel as if birds were chirping and singing songs to the butterflies, plants, trees and everybody present in the garden. I started to wonder if the world outside the garden really exited for him. Whenever I looked the way, he was enjoying and I felt it for the first time that the garden was something different like a paradise. The garden always remained the gathering of silent beauty of nature, but now I started to feel that the natural beauty speaks through everything present there. Gradually, I started to realize that the small issues, matters and the things were more beautiful than big things like the small flowers on the plants with butterflies dancing on it. I also started to forget world outside and he seemed the mystery of the garden. The mystery is an invitation to explore, and thus I wanted to know more about him. For next few days, he did not come to the garden, as I did not see him anywhere, particularly at his chosen place. I had a heavy workload so I remain busy in my work so a week passed without my going there. On the weekend, I went to the garden early in the morning. It was a pleasure to see him there again. I was feeling curious to know what kind of person he was, so in my own mood and in a friendly way, I went close to him. I was very pleased to see what he was doing there, while sitting alone. I was having a thought of a praising him as I could see him busy with his paintbrush, colors and drawing papers. I felt more curious to see what exactly he was making. So, I happily went close to him, I saw him making sketches of the flowers, mountains and other natural beauties. He looked at me with friendly smile, I also responded with a deep smile, the charm of the face. However, I noticed that his paintbrush slowly stopped
working with its original flow. I realized that my presence made him feel disturbed, just for a simple reason that I knew him because of his presence there, but for him I was a stranger, as it seemed to me that he had never looked at me before in the garden. It made me feel concerned about him while thinking that he was a very sensitive person because otherwise he should not get distracted. I felt sorry for this human nature that we may not know those who know us at the same time when we know many people who know nothing about us, like I was for him. I left the place without saying anything. While I was leaving, my humanly concern made me to had another look at him, it was the look that I cared for him. However, I was not aware that his eyes were following my feet leaving the garden, so my giving him a look to see what it was that we all share as humans made me a kind of experience that I had no words to express it. While his not looking at my face, but I could see his face, what I saw was more amazing than his just feeling disturbed. As I was leaving, he took a deep breath. It seemed to me as if it was a breath of relaxation and satisfaction. It left an impression about which I might always wonder if it was the feelings similar to those that a prisoner would have on the moment that brings a relief on releasing day from the prison, the end of imprisonment. “Is it possible that one’s presence may be felt as if it’s a prison? What can it be; prison of self-indulgence or self-imprisonment, thought or feelings of being in self-prison while in others’ presence? Why did he behave as a prisoner in my presence?” I was having many questions, but I tried to ignore it, as interfering in other’s life does not give any charm to me, though could not ignore it. These questions were searching answers in my mind as such confusion may produce agony and anguish in one’s personal life and that is why I cannot resist pondering over it. I always regret about the sensitivity and its recognition as nervousness. The nervous person seems to say something but we seem to be addicted of hearing words to create some bookish meaning. This addiction of hearing words without feelings seem to work both as the stimulant and sedative that is why some people believe that the world is the like the vision of meanings created by the words that one listens, reads and says. The person keeping good thoughts seem to have a different vision for the garden of humanity.
I look at the flowers on the plants and fragrance that seems making me feel sensitive. At this moment, if anybody had tried to talk to me I would have reacted with nervousness, as the self-felt or personal joy is wordless state of mind. The nature gifts us with flowers; but we ignore the plant, branches, leaves, roots and thorns while plucking the flower just to enjoy its beauty and fragrance by separating it from its source as a mother, the plant. The joy of having the flower seems so high that our nerves ignore the simile that is present within a human; the sensitivity is like a flower and nervousness is just trying to save the flower lest the fragrance leaves the feelings. The words are from books but on getting touch of feelings and fragrance of sensitivity helps these words sprout like a flower. We have so many flowers that the plants bearing it seems just standing alone in anguish as if waiting for someone to see it with poets eye and motherly feelings. The humanly nervousness is like a plant bearing the flowers of feelings and fragrance of sensitivity, the glowing of relatedness and belongingness. With these thoughts and feelings, I was leaving the garden, not the thoughts and feelings I had. After a span of a month, I found him in a garden sitting alone in a pensive mood. Now, I felt concerned about it because, after all, being a human I’m not different from him humanly. I went home and narrated the whole story to my sister, Monica. She is a psychotherapist. However, she does not analyze only the personality because she believes in the holistic approach and follows the humanistic psychology as well as Philosophy as the root of the tree of human existence. I usually prefer to call it philosophical counseling, rather than psychological. “You know both sensitivity and sensibility are needed to understand and comprehend such creative people, otherwise it gets difficult to communicate,” she replied. “Yes, you’re right. I fully agree with you,” I said. “I’d like to see him,” she said. “We’ll go to the Peace Garden early in the morning; he usually comes and sits at the same place every morning. I like it,” I said. We both went to the garden and felt happy to find him there. He was sketching. His eyes had a strong focus as if gazing, which I had already noticed.
He was focusing on the beautiful sight of the surrounding as if he was having a vision of it. To my amazement, it seemed different to me, but when I looked at Monica, I found another wonder because she was smiling as if she had a vision. “He’s over there, you see he’s sketching. His face seems silent. Isn’t it?” I could not resist asking her. “Do you feel that this silent face is expression of anguish?” She said. The way she looked at me without saying anything made me feel it. We always seem to repeat words without feeling, the interactions. It was a sharing that was clearly from the way I asked, having these feelings of the feeling the pain and sorrows inside that come from the sight that silently convey it. It is like a human cry searching motherly feelings within us. “Yaw; you know, I strongly feel that it’s agony and anguish. Isn’t it?” I said. “You’re just looking at the thorns and ignoring the flower. The anguish and agony are like thorns just protecting the flower of sensitivity. You know the behavior isn’t the image of idea. The pencil seems bent and short in the water, but it’s not so. In the water of sensitivity the image of a person seems as if narrow-minded who is bent into self-indulgence and dwelling on agony. It’s usually a deep concern about some natural cause like presence of thorns on the plant bearing the flower that is why we seek sensitivity to feel that flower and the plant aren’t two things, isn’t it?” She said. “Well, you’re right. I can understand it though mayn’t fully comprehend it. I just go and talk to him,” I said. She silently gave her permission and stood there, while I approached to talk to him. This time I was having the feelings that terminate the distance that is present between two humans; I met him like a friend, not as a stranger because my affinity had all that; to be friends. “Excuse me please. May I talk to you?” I requested. “Yes, of course; why not, please go ahead,” he replied. “Can I see your beautiful sketches?” I said. “Sure, why not? I’d be pleased to show it to you,” he said with a smiling face. He gave me all of his sketches. All of these were sensitively artistic and what it represents was like a message. “Wow, I really appreciate your sketches representing your feelings and the message in beautiful colors,” I said while looking at it and appreciating his sketches.
“Thank you very much,” he said with a smile. “Are you an artist?” I asked. This question was simple but I could not know why he took it seriously and started to ponder over it to feel whether he was really an artist or not. Before he answers me, I saw an expression of disturbance, the emotional turmoil on his face expressing, as I felt that he had a deep desire to be an artist. He replied while looking into my eyes, “No, I’m not an artist. It’s just my hobby,” I realized that he was a human of very tender emotions and thoughts. Therefore, I dropped the idea of questioning him because it seemed to me that he mightn’t like such questions as the pebble of question mark always disturbs the water of wonder, the exclamation that we have. “Would you let me know about your hobbies?” He asked. “Yes why not! I like poetry, gardening, reading good books; and of course enjoying nature and her creation,” I replied. “I really feel great that you and I’ve the same hobbies. Nature and its creations give us the gifts that become our hobbies,” he said with a deep smile of intimacy. I was contented to see that he was very pleased to know this. His smile opened the first page, the title of his personality. It was the entitled humanly expression that does not words. I realized that it was the first and the last thing that one can communicate as a stranger. While I was thinking, he asked me politely, “Can you look at the rose, please?” “Yes, of course,” I looked at the rose. “Can you see it with poet’s eye, please?” He said. “Well, can you tell me, please; what do you mean by poet’s eye?” I said. “You see the poet’s eye looks at everything like others do, however it feels differently,” he replied. “How does it feel differently?” I wanted to know. “To enjoy the joy, you see it’s different to have moments of joy and having feelings of joy. Looking at the rose is moment of joy and if you can admire and enjoy this moment as your personal feeling, it’s poet’s eye. In other words, how you can enjoy naturally, the joy without effort. You know some people say that the rose is just a flower. For a poet, it isn’t simply a flower. It’s the beauty of the plant as any humanly gift or quality is, and its smell is like sharing same as the
sharing of humanly gifts. You see we can always enjoy admiring the common beauty between the plants and the humans, isn’t it,” he said. “Well, I don’t have words to admire it that way, though I can understand what you’re saying and want to convey. I like your feelings and the charm of this poetically feelings,” I said. “You know that the poems simply make us forget the words and enjoy the meanings with feelings enriched with metaphor present in the nature. The metaphor is the beauty of words that we may enjoy in poems like in the music and songs. I want to ask if you like poems,” he asked with a smiling face metaphorically. “Yaw, I like poems. I’m learning to write poems, as you’ve just said enjoying without forcing our self to enjoy, the poet’s eye making no effort. It’s as an art of joy to write poems, isn’t it,” I said. “Would you like to read a poem, though I’d not force you to enjoy it?” He asked me while looking deep into my eyes as if looking for the self-felt reply. “I don’t feel forced when I enjoy let me have what you enjoy without forcing your self. Would you like to do so, please?” I said. I realized that he was absorbed in his poetical thoughts and imaginations. “All right, just have this poem to read,” he said. It was like an asset to add richness to my feelings as I could see him satisfied as if my reply fulfilled one of his great desires. He gives me a poem named, “Rose,” and I started to read it. It was very beautiful it said: ‘Rose’ On the bank of the river Near the city And outside the buildings But behind the old trees I see a rose. I don’t want to pluck it Because it attracts me When it’s in the garden Near the bank of a river Flowing with twinkling water, The rose reminds Me of the rainbow and
It seems to me That this rose was Once standing on the rainbow Because, I saw its color In the rainbow and I feel that The rainbow has manifested her self On the earth In the flowers and trees Moreover, when I see birds In different colors I feel They’re telling about The stories of rainbow and I find the virtue of nature In the rainbow It feels like a human being Yes, Rose is a child of beauty of Rainbow. “It’s a beautiful expression, I can feel it. Thanks for allowing me to read it,” I said. “I thank you for reading it and compliment with a feeling,” he replied. We sat together silently for some moments. I was suddenly shocked when I saw him taking some tablets and capsules. When he was looking at the medicines he was sad, but after taking it, he was relaxed as if gone through a tough time with success. However, it seemed that he had the feelings of running in wrong lane in the track of his life and creativity. (End of excerpt. Thanks!) You see the novel is having focus on the Bipolar disorders, youth, writer, poet, artist, novel, sensitivity, handling emotions, schizophrenia, religious mania, stress, ignored-neglected-talents, social ignorance, wisdom, anguish, gloom, joy, overcoming failures, pills, medicines, painter, hobbies, delinquency and the awareness about how to handle it, instant lessons for meditation, loneliness and company, ecological and economic depression, counseling, learning from experiences, self-felt feelings, imaginations, how to control anger, moods and so on. (The children, youngsters and even the elders have a global simile in sensitivity, creativity and curiosity. It is like a healing touch that we give to what we read,
reflect, think, feel, ponder and enjoy so that we may have sensitivity nourishing and nurturing the peace that shines on when the smiling faces enjoy it.). Thanks! The link to the novel remains the same: www.lulu.com/content/4826464 Thanks for reading!
“A Sensitive Peace Lover-A Never Ending Beginning!” P.S.: It is my first uploading at scirbd. Thanks!