HUMAN LIFE IS A STRUGGLE.

For me, life is all about struggle, continous struggle. To do what one considers as the right thing is a struggle, to live with people of different personalities, views, dreams, culture is a struggle, to voice out ones views in the midst of frantic people is a struggle. One can go on and on citing different instances of struggling in life but I would rather stop here with this saying of a great man whose benevolence added to his struggles. He fought for freedom not just for himself but for his people, "The struggle is my life. I will continue fighting for freedom until the end of my days" NELSON MANDELA (1918). These struggles however make a man.

Man is an embodiment of God's magnificent work of creation. Man crowns all of God's creation; man resembles God as he was made in his image and likeness. God created each one of us with a definite purpose. As we seek to actualize this purpose, we meet challenges along the way. How else do we successfully combat with them as they come if not seek the source of our existence. In doing this, the struggles of life becomes otiose in a sense. Permit me to say that, you are an epitome of goodness and greatness, you need to live out who you are fearlessly, without fear of whatever challenge may arise. You are because there needed to be you to make a lot of lives complete, so to heels with that challenge that seems to throw you off balance!

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The Beautiful Faraway: Why I’m Grateful for My Soviet Childhood

At 10 I wanted to be an artist, practiced a hysterical form of Christianity, talked to trees, and turned a sunset at a local park into a visionary experience. My great-aunt lured me to Evangelical Christianity with the strangeness of Gospel stories where Jesus always ended up angry at his disciples’ failure to understand. I sympathized with being misunderstood, and latched on. Besides, Christianity was a forbidden fruit in Soviet Russia so I had to worship in secret. This was unnerving but also alluring. I was a breathless romantic who wanted to be surprised by a knight on a white horse. From the early ‘80s to the early ‘90s, my childhood was formed by the images, atmosphere, and allusiveness of Soviet songs. I grew up in an artistic family where emotions flew high. I was the kind of imaginative child who could spin an entire tale from an oblong stain on the kitchen table. But there’s more to it than that. My family was not always idealistic or romantic, especially not in New York in...

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Philistines

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