Phobias-the beasts that live in our head.

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It was ten years ago when I said goodbye to the last airplane I had a short flight with. I even claimed that only stupid people choose to travel by airplane. Since then I refused to think about it, and never take into consideration to fly again.

“I will explore the world by Google Maps, I don’t need to visit faraway countries.”- I always comforted myself.

Despite other phobias, aerophobia was the most frightening phobia that I have ever had.

However, few months ago I couldn’t refuse my sisters offer to visit Paris. Oh, Paris, the city of lights, the city of my all time dreams. If I could choose from all the cities of the world, Paris was always the first on my list.

Bus drive wasn’t even an option, my sister had already booked the tickets. I was overwhelmed and at the same time scared to death. There were only three days left until the flight, and I could feel the same anxiety and fear as I did ten years ago.

I arose between my greatest desire and greatest fear. Again I was in a position Me vs Me.

I was telling people about the power of our mind, the power of our thoughts, I healed myself from a terrible disease with that power, I even wrote a book about it. But, now I was acting like a cowardice denying the power I had within and letting the fear conquer me, isn’t the fear just a thought too?

The only way to overcome the fear was to face it, to look directly into the beast’s eyes.  Therefore, I made a decision, no matter how painful it will be, I have to prove to myself, once more. That I am stronger than my fear.

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Oh, it wasn’t easy. The moment when the airplane had to take-off my sister asked me.

“How do you feel, how much you are scared from 1 to 10?”

“Ten”- I replied and I took her hand.

It were the exact same feelings, the exact jiggling  pains in my stomach. I closed my eyes and I could feel my heart beating as fast as the speed of airplane, I had a shower of sweat all over my head and I couldn’t move my limbs. I thought If I move I would interfere the airplanes balance. My body froze and it wasn’t there anymore, all I could feel was my own breath and my  own thoughts.

“Why did I do this to myself, why did I agree to torture my own being, what I was thinking, why did I put myself at this flying box moving with an incredible speed and high, why did I leave my comfort zone, no Paris, nothing deserves this torture. I am one of those stupid people now.”

The airplane normalized, the stewardesses started to sell things, people untied their security belts, my sister felt asleep, but not me, I was still on the shocking zone.

I took the courage to look around, everything seemed normal, people were eating, drinking, chatting with each other, it was just me, wet and stoned.

According to researchers there are around 100.000 flights per day and the statistics of airplane crashing are 1 in 29.4 million. “You’re much more likely to die getting to the airport than you are flying in the plane,” said the editors at Discovery. Sure, it is the safest way of traveling, but why I don’t tremble and sweat while driving, why don’t I wear an helmet whenever I go. It is because I believe in the process of live, because I feel save on the ground and because my mind patterns are structured on belief. I needed to work on those old belief patterns. Fears are just nonexistent beasts in our head that we create with our thoughts. Nothing more and nothing less.

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“Isn’t the fear just a thought?” – I asked myself.

“Can thoughts change? – I asked myself again.

Of course they can. I have proved this to myself a lot of times, why not now, and again. So, I decided to use some affirmations,

“I can do it, I am stronger than my fear, I love flying, I am enjoying flying, what a wonderful feeling to fly, to be above the clouds, near to the source. It is amazingly enjoyable, I trust the process of life, everything happens for my greatest good. This one is one of them.”

It was the only way to trick my mind, to say the opposite of what I was feeling, but it wasn’t easy and kept staring at my watch, we weren’t even on the middle of the destination.  So,  again I would close my eyes and continued with the affirmations, ” I can do it, You can do it. Yes, you can do it…”

The fact that I kept my eyes closed, concentrating on my breathing and saying the affirmations put me in a deep stage of meditations. I lost the trace of time. I only remember the voice of stewardess telling us to prepare for the landing.

I opened my eyes and the beast wasn’t there anymore, my body had calmed down, I had a delightful feeling on my stomach and I dared myself to look at the oval shaped window, the view was amazing such as were my feelings.

When I got out from the airplane I hugged my sister so tightly and thanked her for doing me such a great favor and  I looked up in the sky and shouted: “I DID IT!”

Last week I had another trip, and I really enjoyed the flight. Share if you believe this might help someone.

Thank you for reading! 🙂

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Wine and poetry

I could not refuse the invitation of my friend to participate in a poetry event named, “Wine and poetry” organized for the honor of Francophone’s days.
The event’s name attracted me, especially the wine part, and in order to escape a little from my self- observer comfort zone I accepted his invitation.
The event wasn’t held in the common places such as poetry halls, or conference rooms, nor on University libraries, but it was in a pub where they mainly served wine.
As far as my friend greeted with his friends, I sat on a long chair at the bar, I wanted to be invisible onto the Elite citizens’ sight, and it was hard for me to break my antisocial habit. Even in the middle of a crowd I would prefer being alone.
While someone started to read a poem about wine, I started to drink my red wine and initially felt its sweetness in my mouth, as I felt its sweet taste trickling into my throat, and its sway penetrating into my veins as a komorebi and felt like it was melting my frozen blood, to break through up to my head.
This was the most enjoyable part, it creates a myopic view, and it is that magical moment when the natural complexes are gone, the voices seem so distant, I could hear only the sounds of Jazz.
Although my head weighed down, all my concerns had migrated, I was holding my head with one hand and my glass with the other and felt the absence of my body. Then, I remember that there was a mess, many people came, they spoke about wine but didn’t taste wine, they were talking about poetry, but they didn’t sense the verses, I just kept nodding with my head while listening to them, therefore my body was following the rhythm of the music.
“I can see more with my eyes closed” I whispered to my friend.
“You are drunk,” he replied and put his arm around my shoulders.
“We are all beams of light, shining and sparkling to and for each other.” I continued to bother him.
“Hahah…” than I laughed and asked, “Do you know that the mind fears the heart?
“What kind of question is that?” he asked.
“The sounds of no sounds told me so, the heart is the master” I replied by keeping my eyes still closed. While his next question was, “What else did they told you?”
“That we are all blind, although we see. Look at that thin and tall poet, I know him since 20 years ago and he is exactly the same, even his outfit is the same. Do you know why? Because once we meet a person we get a picture of him/her in our heads, and it remains there. No matter how people change we always remember them as the first time we saw them. ” I replied and started to lose my balance. He caught my face with his hands and he was demanding me to open my eyes.
“Please, let me be me.” I begged him. I adored that feeling of nothingness, the point when you are your own center of the Universe.
“Your madness is terrifying me, let’s just go home” he suggested.
But don’t you understand that Louis Pasteur was right, “A bottle of wine contains more philosophy than all the books in the world.” 
“He was quite right, wasn’t he?” I asked. 
I don’t remember how many cups I drank, but I know it was too late, we missed the last bus and we had to return on foot, along the way he talked about wine, for those who sang about wine, Homer and Virgil, Balzac, Pablo Neruda, Kahjami, I talked about the secrets of the Universe that were revealed to me, nothing and everything made sense, if you could take off the weight on your shoulder, if you free you body, you can find the answers within… we had walked more than three hours.

© Copyright 2016 Burbuqe Raufi 

Childhood village

It wasn’t the sun that moved, but it was the wind that blew a new ugly swarm and a surprise rain.

Some holidaymakers were not disturbed; they liked to take natural bath in the waves of the lake, which easily rubbed their bodies. Others ran to gather their children, tents, belongings and get away from the beach as soon as possible.

We also ran to our car. It was a chaotic situation. A situation that you experience during presidential selection meetings. People seem lost and unaware where and why they are there, and where they should go. The traffic jam was impossible to pass. So I turned the wheel toward an alley and I knew exactly where it will lead us.

After some moments my friend realized that I had lost my way, but it was not true. I was going to the village of my past, to the place of storks, who had already emigrated, and they hadn’t left even a single feather behind, besides damnation, shadows and ghosts.

Many years have passed since no one lives there. The youth had abandoned that place, the elders passed away.
Along the way she tried to persuade me to return, that place meant nothing to her.

“Where are you headed to, did you lose your mind, or this is just one of those mad things you always do? Come on, we are not young anymore.”

I didn’t want to listen to her. I had already breached the threshold of the past and watched everything through the eyes of my childhood.

The village was the same, with the same name, the same streets, the same street lights that had already been lighted by the ashen shadow. The rain had stopped. But the clouds still covered the sun and had woven a veil of the evening, from day to night. Sometimes the lightning strikes will appear, stop our heartbeats and disappear.

My friend was afraid and decided to wait me in the car. She repeated several times not to stay to long while I anxiously wanted to approach the house of mirth and memories.

It wasn’t just me that had changed, but everything else had changed. You couldn’t see the lake from the huge canes covering it out. Apple trees and plum trees, whose fruits were once so delicious, they looked like stilettos now. That place was dead.

Souls wandered freely because their graves were far away. Caught between two worlds, neither here nor there. I barely recognized the house, it was covered with bushes. Alleys with thin tiles, which once I washed them every day was like spider web woven by wild pastures. I was stunned at the gate gazing. I wanted to enter, I was pushing the door with all my powers, but the door rejected. It was crucified. Once I went to jump over the fence, I heard my grandfather’s voice.

“No, don’t my darling! How many times I have told you to beware of snakes.” I goose bumps from his voice, I turned my head to see where he was talking from, but there was nothing. Except fog and turbulence. At that moment of stagnation I cried spontaneously.

-Grandpa, grandpa dear, where are you? Where are you Grandpa, O my darling I miss you a lot!

It was a grave serenity. I started trembling and tears rolled on my cheeks. My faint voice as an echo returned and tossed from the walls of the old and cracked house. I waited and waited in vain that he will reappear and see his wrinkled face, his snowy hair and that wonderful smile which appears just at those moments when a grandfather approaches his granddaughter to embrace. Although I was anxiously waiting for the reappearance of my grandfather, he didn’t. But after a stunning lightning flashed I could hear his voice again.

“Come on, your grandma is waiting for you, the pancakes are ready. And don’t eat all of them you hoggish child.”

The gate was already open, alley tiles were shining, and I could smell the pancakes everywhere. My grandmother and aunt Nurie were sitting on the porch and they smiled when they saw me approaching. How much I missed them and I ran to hug them tightly, but I was stopped by my phone ringing…

“Come back quickly! This place is cursed!” My friend cried terrified.

“What happened you silly woman, why do you yowl like a breeding cat, did you see any ghost?!” I scolded her.

“Even worse, worse, just in front of me in the yard of this mosque there is a hearse with four white horses who are neighing dreadfully after every shot of the lightnings,” my terrified friend cried.

I was shivering, while I was trying to get back at the car. I wasn’t afraid, I was just too sad that my childhood was not there anymore, it had faded away together with its beauty. I was left alone with the pain of life, intoxicated.

“Let’s go, quickly,” I said. And I looked over to see the house for the last time. Aunt Nurie was the only one that greeted us from the window of her room. She had passed away eleven years ago.

© Copyright 2016 Burbuqe Raufi  

Dr. Mind

A very honest and unique review. I recommend aurum reviews to all authors.

aurum reviews

Book Name

Dr. Mind by Burbuqe Raufi

Rating

Sit Down

One Line Summary

You can heal your life

Why it’s Awesome

Do you ever feel like you’re a victim to life circumstances?

If you answered “no” then I don’t believe you. Unless you’re like enlightened or some shit, everyone at times can succumb to victim mentality. Life can be tough as shit and we all have our moments of weakness.

But what if all of that was a story?

What if you actually had 100% control over all your problems? How would your beliefs have to change in order to accept that?

Dr. Mind is a story about a women who came to believe this for herself. In spiritual circles they call it becoming a “conscious creator”. And it’s one of the hardest things that anyone can do.

In fact, it’s so hard that almost no one makes this switch…

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