Is it really possible to live a life you love, live from true
passion and purpose, be healthy, wealthy, happy and fulfilled? No,
I mean really think about it, is it truly and fully possible?
Well, my belief is that it is. BUT…. there is a trick to it.
First, let me explain to you how I came across the true secret to
having all of the above.
When I was nine years old, I had a pretty normal life, except that
I was a refugee living in another country. I got teased and taunted
for my ethnicity. What happened next was extremely intense for an
adult, and even more so for a nine-year-old. One morning, I was in
the car going to the hospital for my father’s surgery, when we saw
huge tankers blocking the streets, and planes throwing down what
look like balls of fire. It was surreal. The roads were blocked,
the hospital was closed, there were no radio stations anymore. We
were able to go back home. As we are walking in, the building
watchman rushes in to tell us that we have been invaded as of 2 AM
that morning. My little child mind goes into a state of shock and
bewilderment. Why would someone do this? What is going to happen?
Are we all going to die? Were my friends already dead?
As we enter our apartment, everything is a state of confusion. I
am crying, I want to call my friends and extended family to know if
they are alive. I still have Leila’s cartoon tape, I want to make
sure she gets it back. The phones are dead. We rush to the
television. All the television stations are blank. There is only a
picture of the invading country’s President on TV. We are able to
tune into BBC radio to confirm that we had indeed been invaded, and
that there was no way we can leave the country. We stick together,
breathe together, never knowing which would be our last breath.
Will it be tomorrow, or will it be at 3 PM? Is Leila already dead?
What about my favorite teacher, Abla? She is of a wanted
nationality they were putting in torture camps. I cry while my
frightened parents do their best to comfort me, not knowing if they
really have the power to save their little girl’s life.
We get into survival mode. There is no more time to feed the
building ducks or water the plants. We get together with the other
residents in the apartment building and prepare for bombings and
chemical and biological attacks. I had never heard about biological
attacks before and my little nine-year-old mind is stunned and
heartbroken that any moment a killer virus could be unleashed on
us. Our only refuge is the basement of the building. The children
are given the task of cleaning the basement to make it habitable,
while the adults strategize and plan for supplies.
We get to cleaning the basement, knowing that our family’s lives
depend on it. It is dirty and dusty, with no windows. I fear how
all the residents of the building will fit in there. Will we get
enough oxygen? Will the chemicals and viruses get through the
basement doors, as oxygen hopefully will?
As we sweep the dungeon like basement, we find two dead cat
carcasses matted into the floor. A little part of me wonders if
that’s how we would end up, just a dead carcass on the basement
floor. I cry a little, wishing I could at least say bye to friends
and extended family. I sweep with determination, determined to make
it as clean as possible as it is our only chance of survival
against bombings and other attacks.
The war still hasn’t stopped. It’s been several weeks now, and
things only seem to be getting worse. We never know when soldiers
might come and kick down our door, or throw a bomb from overhead. I
go to sleep knowing that I may never wake up.
We need to go out to buy food and draw out money from the bank.
My parents have to take me with them, they can’t leave me alone at
home for fear of what
might happen. We are stopped several times along the way by
soldiers carrying guns. Some are friendly, some are stern. I
can’t trust either type, there are no rules in the war zone.
Myself, my mother, or my father could be dragged out over the car
at any moment and shot, or put in a torture chamber. Even while we
are driving, we have guns pointed at us in every direction from army
vehicles, just to let us know that we can never know that we are
too safe. We look around… there is chaos everywhere. The car
showrooms are all looted, there is fruit strewn all over the
supermarket floors, empty cars with luggage and belongings in the
trunks…empty, stopped by soldiers… no one knew where the
soldiers had taken the once alive inhabitants of the cars.
My parents go to an ATM to draw out money, but there is no more
money. It’s gone. Stolen. We take whatever little money we have to
a shop we see open to buy food. Soldiers patrol the shop, pointing
guns an inch away from me. I wonder to myself, “what do they think
a 9 year old would do?” and get an image of my blood splattered on
Kitco packets (a type of potato chips). I try to be brave and
strong. I have to be strong for my parents too. My mother is 7
months pregnant, I am terrified the fear would make her miscarry.
I pretend to be brave and strong so that she wouldn’t worry about
me. I want my little brother or sister to be fine.
To be continued in the next few days…In a few days, I will tell you the rest of
what happened and how this and other experiences in my life led me
to deep spiritual insights and realizations that allowed me to live
in close connection with Spirit and my higher self. I feel blessed
to have had these experiences to grow and become who I am.
I look forward to sharing more with you tomorrow.
Bliss and Peace,
Hanan
Spiritual Transformation Coach
www.effortlessbrilliance.com
If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!