Saturday, May 18, 2019

Hate, A Form Of Motivation

Hate a form of motivation

Nowadays there is a lot of talk about hate crimes there is an entire body of laws against hate crimes everybody seems to be worried about hate, hate appears to be the gravest problem of our time, but hate is good, hate gives a structure to our lives, hate gives us a reason to exist a focus, something to strive for an identity. 

Hate is energy, pure energy provided by Mother Nature herself, hate enables us to see through lies and pretenses and helps us to concentrate on the essential.

Hate is democratic, the rich hate the poor, the poor hate the rich, the rich hate the fellow rich, the poor hate the fellow poor. Every one have the right to hate and everyone is subject to hate.

Hate emancipates, without hate for slavery you cannot break your shackles and without hate for injustice there can be no justice. Without hate for being a looser there can be no winner.

The greatest achievements of the human race have grown from hate and the ability to control hate.

Hate separate humans from animals, animals do not hate but humans do, humans can hate for decades, sometimes their entire lives, even an amount of time and generations. We can even pass hate onto our children and keep hate alive for centuries.

Hate is a sign of abstract intellect, for only humans can hate people they have never seen or never met, only humans can hate concepts and processes.

How can we know what love is if we refuse to recognize and understand hate, love and hate are the two opposite sides of the same coin.

Without hate we are only halflings, in order to be complete we need hate.

Only fools talk endlessly about love but forget the hate, hate separates us from the weak and docile masses.

Do not fear hate, do not deny or reject hate. Accept hate, embrace hate, learn to know it and learn to use it.

Hate is your most powerful weapon, a hidden source of your strength, a surging motivation and resource, do not deny it from you.

What other people fear the most in this world is our ability to hate because our hate will one day be the most revolutionary force on the planet.

Our hate will destroy and create empires. Hate can create, build, destroy and loose one self.

Hate is part and parcel of being human. it is natural, you should not fear to hate. If you never experience hate you can never fully be human. Just try and keep it in perspective and don't do anything stupid.

Always remember stay lean, stay clean, live life awesomely.


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Thursday, May 16, 2019

Every Mans Poem III

Every Mans Poem III

Horatius
by Thomas Babington

I

LARS Porsena of Clusium
By the Nine Gods he swore
That the great house of Tarquin
Should suffer wrong no more.
By the Nine Gods he swore it,
And named a trysting day,
And bade his messengers ride forth,
East and west and south and north,
To summon his array.

II

East and west and south and north
The messengers ride fast,
And tower and town and cottage
Have heard the trumpet’s blast.
Shame on the false Etruscan
Who lingers in his home,
When Porsena of Clusium
Is on the march for Rome.

III

The horsemen and the footmen
Are pouring in amain
From many a stately market-place;
From many a fruitful plain;
From many a lonely hamlet,
Which, hid by beech and pine,
Like an eagle’s nest, hangs on the crest
Of purple Apennine;

IV

From lordly Volaterræ,
Where scowls the far-famed hold
Piled by the hands of giants
For godlike kings of old;
From seagirt Populonia,
Whose sentinels descry
Sardinia’s snowy mountain-tops
Fringing the southern sky;

V

From the proud mart of Pisæ,
Queen of the western waves,
Where ride Massilia’s triremes
Heavy with fair-haired slaves;
From where sweet Clanis wanders
Through corn and vines and flowers;
From where Cortona lifts to heaven
Her diadem of towers.

VI

Tall are the oaks whose acorns
Drop in dark Auser’s rill;
Fat are the stags that champ the boughs
Of the Ciminian hill;
Beyond all streams Clitumnus
Is to the herdsman dear;
Best of all pools the fowler loves
The great Volsinian mere.

VII

But now no stroke of woodman
Is heard by Auser’s rill;
No hunter tracks the stag’s green path
Up the Ciminian hill;
Unwatched along Clitumnus
Grazes the milk-white steer;
Unharmed the water fowl may dip
In the Volsinian mere.

VIII

The harvests of Arretium,
This year, old men shall reap;
This year, young boys in Umbro
Shall plunge the struggling sheep;
And in the vats of Luna,
This year, the must shall foam
Round the white feet of laughing girls
Whose sires have marched to Rome.

IX

There be thirty chosen prophets,
The wisest of the land,
Who always by Lars Porsena
Both morn and evening stand:
Evening and morn the Thirty
Have turned the verse o’er,
Traced from the right on linen white
By mighty seers of yore.

X

And with one voice the Thirty
Have their glad answer given:
‘Go forth, go forth, Lars Porsena;
Go forth, beloved of Heaven;
Go, and return in glory
To Clusium’s royal dome;
And hang round Nurscia’s altars
The golden shields of Rome.’

XI

And now hath every city
Sent up her tale of men;
The foot are fourscore thousand,
The horse are thousands ten.
Before the gates of Sutrium
Is met the great array.
A proud man was Lars Porsena
Upon the trysting day.

XII

For all the Etruscan armies
Were ranged beneath his eye,
And many a banished Roman,
And many a stout ally;
And with a mighty following
To join the muster came
The Tusculan Mamilius,
Prince of the Latian name.

XIII

But by the yellow Tiber
Was tumult and affright:
From all the spacious champaign
To Rome men took their flight.
A mile around the city,
The throng stopped up the ways;
A fearful sight it was to see
Through two long nights and days.

XIV

For aged folks on crutches,
And women great with child,
And mothers sobbing over babes
That clung to them and smiled,
And sick men borne in litters
High on the necks of slaves,
And troops of sun-burned husbandmen
With reaping-hooks and staves,

XV

And droves of mules and asses
Laden with skins of wine,
And endless flocks of goats and sheep,
And endless herds of kine,
And endless trains of waggons
That creaked beneath the weight
Of corn-sacks and of household goods,
Choked every roaring gate.

XVI

Now, from the rock Tarpeian,
Could the wan burghers spy
The line of blazing villages
Red in the midnight sky.
The Fathers of the City,
They sat all night and day,
For every hour some horseman came
With tidings of dismay.

XVII

To eastward and to westward
Have spread the Tuscan bands;
Nor house, nor fence, nor dovecote
In Crustumerium stands.
Verbenna down to Ostia
Hath wasted all the plain;
Astur hath stormed Janiculum,
And the stout guards are slain.

XVIII

I wis, in all the Senate,
There was no heart so bold,
But sore it ached, and fast it beat,
When that ill news was told.
Forthwith up rose the Consul,
Up rose the Fathers all;
In haste they girded up their gowns,
And hied them to the wall.

XIX

They held a council standing,
Before the River-Gate;
Short time was there, ye well may guess,
For musing or debate.
Out spake the Consul roundly:
‘The bridge must straight go down;
For, since Janiculum is lost,
Nought else can save the town.’

XX

Just then a scout came flying,
All wild with haste and fear:
‘To arms! to arms! Sir Consul:
Lars Porsena is here.’
On the lows hills to westward
The Consul fixed his eye,
And saw the swarthy storm of dust
Rise fast along the sky.

XXI

And nearer fast and nearer
Doth the red whirlwind come;
And louder still and still more loud,
From underneath that rolling cloud,
Is heard the trumpet’s war-note proud,
The trampling, and the hum.
And plainly and more plainly
Now through the gloom appears,
Far to left and far to right,
In broken gleams of dark-blue light,
The long array of helmets bright,
The long array of spears.

XXII

And plainly and more plainly,
Above that glimmering line,
Now might ye see the banners
Of twelve fair cities shine;
But the banner of proud Clusium
Was highest of them all,
The terror of the Umbrian,
The terror of the Gaul.

XXIII

And plainly and more plainly
Now might the burghers know,
By port and vest, by horse and crest,
Each warlike Lucumo.
There Cilnius of Arretium
On his fleet roan was seen;
And Astur of the four-fold shield,
Girt with the brand none else may wield,
Tolumnius with the belt of gold,
And dark Verbenna from the hold
By reedy Thrasymene.

XXIV

Fast by the royal standard,
O’erlooking all the war,
Lars Porsena of Clusium
Sat in his ivory car.
By the right wheel rode Mamilius,
Prince of the Latian name;
And by the left false Sextus,
That wrought the deed of shame.

XXV

But when the face of Sextus
Was seen among the foes,
A yell that rent the firmament
From all the town arose.
On the house-tops was no woman
But spat towards him and hissed,
No child but screamed out curses,
And shook its little fist.

XXVI

But the Consul’s brow was sad,
And the Consul’s speech was low,
And darkly looked he at the wall,
And darkly at the foe.
‘Their van will be upon us
Before the bridge goes down;
And if they once may win the bridge,
What hope to save the town?’

XXVII

Then out spake brave Horatius,
The Captain of the gate:
‘To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his Gods,

XXVIII

‘And for the tender mother
Who dandled him to rest,
And for the wife who nurses
His baby at her breast,
And for the holy maidens
Who feed the eternal flame,
To save them from false Sextus
That wrought the deed of shame?

XXIX

‘Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,
With all the speed ye may;
I, with two more to help me,
Will hold the foe in play.
In yon strait path a thousand
May well be stopped by three.
Now who will stand on either hand,
And keep the bridge with me?’

XXX

Then out spake Spurius Lartius;
A Ramnian proud was he:
‘Lo, I will stand at thy right hand,
And keep the bridge with thee.’
And out spake strong Herminius;
Of Titian blood was he:
‘I will abide on thy left side,
And keep the bridge with thee.’

XXXI

‘Horatius,’ quoth the Consul,
‘As thou sayest, so let it be.’
And straight against that great array
Forth went the dauntless Three.
For Romans in Rome’s quarrel
Spared neither land nor gold,
Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,
In the brave days of old.

XXXII

Then none was for a party;
Then all were for the state;
Then the great man helped the poor,
And the poor man loved the great:
Then lands were fairly portioned;
Then spoils were fairly sold:
The Romans were like brothers
In the brave days of old.

XXXIII

Now Roman is to Roman
More hateful than a foe,
And the Tribunes beard the high,
And the Fathers grind the low.
As we wax hot in faction,
In battle we wax cold:
Wherefore men fight not as they fought
In the brave days of old.

XXXIV

Now while the Three were tightening
Their harnesses on their backs,
The Consul was the foremost man
To take in hand an axe:
And Fathers mixed with Commons
Seized hatchet, bar, and crow,
And smote upon the planks above,
And loosed the props below.

XXXV

Meanwhile the Tuscan army,
Right glorious to behold,
Come flashing back the noonday light,
Rank behind rank, like surges bright
Of a broad sea of gold.
Four hundred trumpets sounded
A peal of warlike glee,
As that great host, with measured tread,
And spears advanced, and ensigns spread,
Rolled slowly towards the bridge’s head,
Where stood the dauntless Three.

XXXVI

The Three stood calm and silent,
And looked upon the foes,
And a great shout of laughter
From all the vanguard rose:
And forth three chiefs came spurring
Before that deep array;
To earth they sprang, their swords they drew,
And lifted high their shields, and flew
To win the narrow way;

XXXVII

Aunus from green Tifernum,
Lord of the Hill of Vines;
And Seius, whose eight hundred slaves
Sicken in Ilva’s mines;
And Picus, long to Clusium
Vassal in peace and war,
Who led to fight his Umbrian powers
From that grey crag where, girt with towers,
The fortress of Nequinum lowers
O’er the pale waves of Nar.

XXXVIII

Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus
Into the stream beneath;
Herminius struck at Seius,
And clove him to the teeth;
At Picus brave Horatius
Darted one fiery thrust;
And the proud Umbrian’s gilded arms
Clashed in the bloody dust.

XXXIX

Then Ocnus of Falerii
Rushed on the Roman Three;
And Lausulus of Urgo,
The rover of the sea;
And Aruns of Volsinium,
Who slew the great wild boar,
The great wild boar that had his den
Amidst the reeds of Cosa’s fen,
And wasted fields, and slaughtered men,
Along Albinia’s shore.

XL

Herminius smote down Aruns:
Lartius laid Ocnus low:
Right to the heart of Lausulus
Horatius sent a blow.
‘Lie there,’ he cried, ‘fell pirate!
No more, aghast and pale,
From Ostia’s walls the crowd shall mark
The track of thy destroying bark.
No more Campania’s hinds shall fly
To woods and caverns when they spy
Thy thrice accursed sail.’

XLI

But now no sound of laughter
Was heard among the foes.
A wild and wrathful clamour
From all the vanguard rose.
Six spears’ lengths from the entrance
Halted that deep array,
And for a space no man came forth
To win the narrow way.

XLII

But hark! the cry is Astur:
And lo! the ranks divide;
And the great Lord of Luna
Comes with his stately stride.
Upon his ample shoulders
Clangs loud the four-fold shield,
And in his hand he shakes the brand
Which none but he can wield.

XLIII

He smiled on those bold Romans
A smile serene and high;
He eyed the flinching Tuscans,
And scorn was in his eye.
Quoth he, ‘The she-wolf’s litter
Stand savagely at bay:
But will ye dare to follow,
If Astur clears the way?’

XLIV

Then, whirling up his broadsword
With both hands to the heights
He rushed against Horatius,
And smote with all his might,
With shield and blade Horatius
Right deftly turned the blow.
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh;
It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh:
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry
To see the red blood flow.

XLV

He reeled, and on Herminius
He leaned one breathing-space;
Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds
Sprang right at Astur’s face.
Through teeth, and skull, and helmet
So fierce a thrust he sped,
The good sword stood a hand-breadth out
Behind the Tuscan’s head.

XLVI

And the great Lord of Luna
Fell at that deadly stroke,
As falls on Mount Alvernus
A thunder smitten oak.
Far o’er the crashing forest
The giant’s arms lie spread;
And the pale augurs, muttering low,
Gaze on the blasted head.

XLVII

On Astur’s throat Horatius
Right firmly pressed his heel,
And thrice and four times tugged amain,
Ere he wrenched out the steel.
‘And see,’ he cried, ‘the welcome,
Fair guests, that waits you here!
What noble Lucumo comes next
To taste our Roman cheer?’

XLVIII

But at his haughty challenge
A sullen murmur ran,
Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread,
Along that glittering van.
There lacked not men of prowess,
Nor men of lordly race;
For all Etruria’s noblest
Were round the fatal place.

XLIX

But all Etruria’s noblest
Felt their hearts sink to see
On the earth the bloody corpses,
In the path the dauntless Three:
And, from the ghastly entrance
Where those bold Romans stood,
All shrank, like boys who unaware,
Ranging the woods to start a hare,
Come to the mouth of the dark lair
Where, growling low, a fierce old bear
Lies amidst bones and blood.

L

Was none who would be foremost
To lead such dire attack:
But those behind cried ‘Forward!’
And those before cried ‘Back!’
And backward now and forward
Wavers the deep array;
And on the tossing sea of steel,
To and fro the standards reel;
And the victorious trumpet-peal
Dies fitfully away.

LI

Yet one man for one moment
Strode out before the croud;
Well known was he to all the Three,
And they gave gim greeting loud.
‘Now welcome, welcome, Sextus!
Now welcome to thy home!
Why dost thou stay, and turn away?
Here lies the road to Rome.’

LII

Thrice looked he at the city;
Thrice looked he at the dead;
And thrice came on in fury,
And thrice turned back in dread:
And, white with fear and hatred,
Scowled at the narrow way
Where, wallowing in a pool of blood,
The bravest Tuscans lay.

LIII

But meanwhile axe and lever
Have manfully been plied;
And now the bridge hangs tottering
Above the boiling tide.
‘Come back, come back, Horatius!’
Loud cried the Fathers all.
‘Back, Lartius! back, Herminius!
Back, ere the ruin fall!’

LIV

Back darted Spurius Lartius;
Herminius darted back:
And, as they passed, beneath their feet
They felt the timbers crack.
But when they turned their faces,
And on the farther shore
Saw brave Horatius stand alone,
They would have crossed once more.

LV

But with a crash like thunder
Fell every loosened beam,
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck
Lay right athwart the stream:
And a long shout of triumph
Rose from the walls of Rome,
As to the highest turret-tops
Was splashed the yellow foam.

LVI

And, like a horse unbroken
When first he feels the rein,
The furious river struggled hard,
And tossed his tawny mane,
And burst the curb and bounded,
Rejoicing to be free,
And whirling down, in fierce career,
Battlement, and plank, and pier,
Rushed headlong to the sea.

LVII

Alone stood brave Horatius,
But constant still in mind;
Thrice thirty thousand foes before,
And the broad flood behind.
‘Down with him!’ cried false Sextus,
With a smile on his pale face.
‘Now yield thee,’ cried Lars Porsena,
‘Now yield thee to our grace!’

LVIII

Round turned he, as not deigning
Those craven ranks to see;
Nought spake he to Lars Porsena,
To Sextus nought spake he;
But he saw on Palatins
The white porch of his home;
And he spake to the noble river
That rolls by the towers of Rome.

LIX

‘Oh, Tiber! father Tiber!
To whom the Romans pray,
A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms,
Take thou in charge this day!’
So he spake, and speaking sheathed
The good sword by his side,
And with his harness on his back,
Plunged headlong in the tide.

LX

No sound of joy or sorrow
Was heard from either bank;
But friends and foes in dumb surprise,
With parted lips and straining eyes,
Stood gazing where he sank;
And when above the surges
They saw his crest appear,
All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,
And even the ranks of Tuscany
Could scarce forbear to cheer.

LXI

But fiercely ran the current,
Swollen high by months of rain:
And fast his blood was flowing;
And he was sore in pain,
And heavy with his armour,
And spent with changing blows:
And oft they thought him sinking,
But still again he rose.

LXII

Never, I ween, did swimmer,
In such an evil case,
Struggle through such a raging flood
Safe to the landing place.
But his limbs were borne up bravely
By the brave heart within,
And our good father Tiber
Bare bravely up his chin.

LXIII

‘Curse on him!’ quoth false Sextus;
‘Will not the villain drown?
But for this stay, ere close of day
We should have sacked the town!’
‘Heaven help him!’ quoth Lars Porsena,
‘And bring him safe to shore;
For such a gallant feat of arms
Was never seen before.’

LXIV

And now he feels the bottom;
Now on dry earth he stands;
Now round him throng the Fathers;
To press his gory hands;
And now, with shouts and clapping,
And noise of weeping loud,
He enters through the River-Gate,
Borne by the joyous crowd.

LXV

They gave him of the corn-land,
That was of public right,
As much as two strong oxen
Could plough from morn till night;
And they made a molten image,
And set it up on high,
And there it stands unto this day
To witness if I lie.

LXVI

It stands in the Comitium,
Plain for all folk to see;
Horatius in his harness,
halting upon one knee:
And underneath is written,
In letters all of gold,
How valiantly he kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.

LXVII

And still his name sounds stirring
Unto the men of Rome,
As the trumpet-blast that cries to them
To charge the Volscian home;
And wives still pray to Juno
For boys with hearts as bold
As his who kept the bridge so well
In the brave days of old.

LXVIII

And in the nights of winter,
When the cold north winds blow,
And the long howling of the wolves
Is heard amidst the snow;
When round the lonely cottage
Roars loud the tempest’s din,
And the good logs of Algidus
Roar louder yet within;

LXIX

When the oldest cask is opened,
And the largest lamp is lit;
When the chestnuts glow in the embers,
And the kid turns on the spit;
When young and old in circle
Around the firebrands close;
When the girls are weaving baskets,
And the lads are shaping bows;

LXX

When the goodman mends his armour,
And trims his helmet’s plume;
When the goodwife’s shuttle merrily
Goes flashing through the loom;
With weeping and with laughter
Still is the story told,
How well Horatius kept the bridge
In the brave days of old.


Stay lean, stay clean, live life awesomely.
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Tuesday, May 14, 2019

For The Students, Teacher And Parents

For The Students, Teacher And Parents

Every one learns differently.

Yet we teach and test everyone as if they were exactly the same.

Life is the most difficult exam.

Most people fail because they try to copy others not realizing that everyone has a different question paper.

All It Takes is a simple Google search.

University makes me:


...Suicidal
...Anxious
...Feel like a failure

It's no surprise that depression is on the rise as mental health hits the skies and I'm hoping that's the limit, probably for the first time.

And don't get it twisted, we want to change the system not just be critics. But the truth is we spend a lot of time on the theoretical and tactical, not enough time on the creative and practical.

Today at college, we spend a lot of time in bars and them learn how to code. It's ironic, we end up a bar code.

Is bar code even memorable? 

No, it's just a series of digits, we end up statistics, wasted potential like unrecorded lyrics.

Everyday we turn up to the conveyor belt, we're on the assembly line. We've become a product of our environment then get shipped off.

Life is the most difficult exam.

The history we learn at school doesn't help us define our future.

Most of as know how to add and subtract and not how to multiply our investments.

We know how to do multiple choice, but we struggle to make decisions.

We know how to analyze a poets voice, but we can't express ourselves with precision.

We learned about the human body, but not how to find ourself.

We learn about the brain but not about mental health.

Geography taught us where things were but not where countries wanted to go.

We learn about modes of transport but not why travel makes us grow.

We learned about new languages, but not about old cultures.

We learn about only one perspective and not opposing versions.

We learn how to draw but not appreciate art.

We were always pushed to get to the end, but never knew how to start.

We were always told to get over stuff and not how to walk through.

We learned about the cells in plants, but not about the source of our food.

We learn how to measure distance but not the journey within.

We were told that X is the only place there was something missing.

What have we really leaned?

The real test we will face are rejection, dealing with failure, having to start from scratch and things not going our way. But tell me when you were taught perseverance, determination or persistence even for one day?

The real challenges we will face are being empathetic, understanding people's challenges and the ability to press pause.

Now put your hands up if you think that would be more beneficial than comparing your test scores. Because at that school you get the lesson first and the test after, but in life ou get the test first and the lesson after.

We need character, but we focus on caliber.

We need values, but we're forced to focus on algebra.

What if we studied more about Pythagoras and not just his theorem?

What if we learned about Einstein and not just his work?

What if we learned about empathy and not just economics?

What if we learned about compassion and not just the compass?

What if we learned about emotional intelligence as well as the spelling quiz?

What if we focused on attitude as much as we did on our aptitude.

What if we didn't just learn how to read, but how to apply it?

Life is disguised as an exam, but it's more like a practice test. When yo make mistakes, learn from them, and any missed takes can be taken again. You can change the script at any time make costume change and then get back on to that stage. Don't be limited by society.

Your path is unique, don't trade it for less. Life is the most difficult exam,because most people are looking at someones else's desk.

Always remember, stay lean, stay clean, live life awesomely.

Words are owned by Jay Shetty
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Monday, May 13, 2019

The Benefits Of Owning Less


Minimalist living defies the culture and society most people grow up with. The society of greed and excessive consumerism. It is contrary to every advertisement we have ever seen because we live in a society that prides itself on the accumulation of possessions.

Minimalism is not about getting rid of everything you own, its about keeping what is necessary for you, and what adds value to your life.

Don't mindlessly buy and acquire all the things you think you want. Then drown yourself in debt. Debt is a terrible prison ,a robbing man made disease. It can and should be eliminated by anyone who wants more freedom and independence in their lives.

Another reason for unable to pursue a minimalist life is envy. Keeping up with the Jones’s is a true definition of envy that makes us wanting more.

F*ck what the neighbors have, f*ck what the neighbors think. F*ck what others have, f*ck what others think. 

They don't care if you went broke or rich. If you can set your foot above them. They are the ones who will envy you.

There is joy and benefits in owning less:

1. Less Stuff, More Space.
It gives more freedom and light in your domain. The feeling of freedom it gives is truly satisfying and refreshing.

2. Less Stress, Less Headache.
A place with less to keep in mind and remember with is really stress and ache free.

3. Spend Less, More Savings.
The lesser you own material things, the more you can save up money. Owning less and making/saving more is essential for financial freedom.

4. Easier To Clean, Less Dirt.
The lesser the items in our home the lesser the dirt and the faster to clean. Saves both time and energy. Energy and time that can be use to other meaningful endeavors.

5. More Time, More Productivity
Owning less means less time to mind, think and care of other stuff. Which means more time to do the things you love.

6. Less Comparisons
You don't compare yourself to others. Envy is not one of your character. You know what you want and what you need. You became more wiser on choosing and decision making.

7. Deep Clear Breath
I don't if most people notice, that if you just cleaned and de-cluttered your room. It feels like you can breath more air and it good to breath the air.

8. Opportunity To Rest
Less stuff, lesser work to be done. More time to sleep, eat and relax.

9. Identifying What You Value Most
You can see and sort the things you need and value most. You will be surprise.

10. Search Easier
Less stuff, easy to find stuff. You don't need to go down on your bed or desk just to find that USB Flash-drive.

Before buying something that you want to buy because you can. Think of this.
Any other things can be used as a means to an end, unless one becomes obsessed with it, then it becomes an end itself.

And ask this.

Do I really need that?
Can I live without that?

Always remember stay lean, stay clean, live life awesomely.
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