Art isn't only a painting. Art is anything that's creative, passionate, and personal. And great art resonates with the viewer, not only with the creator.What makes someone an artist? I don't think is has anything to do with a paintbrush. There are painters who follow the numbers, or paint billboards, or work in a small village in China, painting reproductions. These folks, while swell people, aren't artists. On the other hand, Charlie Chaplin was an artist, beyond a doubt. So is Jonathan Ive, who designed the iPod. You can be an artists who works with oil paints or marble, sure. But there are artists who work with numbers, business models, and customer conversations. Art is about intent and communication, not substances.An artists is someone who uses bravery, insight, creativity, and boldness to challenge the status quo. And an artists takes it personally.That's why Bob Dylan is an artist, but an anonymous corporate hack who dreams up Pop 40 hits on the other side of the glass is merely a marketer. That's why Tony Hsieh, founder of Zappos, is an artists, while a boiler room of telemarketers is simply a scam.Tom Peters, corporate gadfly and writer, is an artists, even though his readers are businesspeople. He's an artists because he takes a stand, he takes the work personally, and he doesn't care if someone disagrees. His art is part of him, and he feels compelled to share it with you because it's important, not because he expects you to pay him for it.Art is a personal gift that changes the recipient. The medium doesn't matter. The intent does.Art is a personal act of courage, something one human does that creates change in another.

I stopped caring about the appearance of the physical shell that is my body. Instead, I concerned myself only with the purifying and beautifying of my soul. I began feeding my heart all the good things: love, hope, courage and belief. I began caring for myself. I began loving myself. I began BEING MYSELF. The power of that was so great that I started to feel healthier, stronger, more energetic. I became healthier, stronger and more energetic and I CONTINUE to become healthier, stronger and more energetic. I came out of hiding, I started talking more, smiling more. I became braver, I felt safer, I built more trust and I took more risks. I risked reaching out, I asked for help from the universe, I asked for help from others, I began searching and grabbing at anything to serve this new purpose: this new path. I opened my mind. I began challenging everything, my thinking, my perspectives. Everything! It's not easy. There were and are moments where everything seems inside out and upside down. But! Amidst this chaos, I found BEAUTY. Beauty in everything around me, beauty in other people and even beauty in ME. Each and every day I feel more beauty. That openness, that growing awareness. That presence in the moment. The depth of being present. The depth of my experiences. The meaning!! Finally, I am learning to live! I am ALIVE! This is my life! I am seizing it. It is mine. I am full of INFINITE POTENTIAL. What a beautiful, wonderful, amazing thing to discover! I am beautiful!

A feeling struck me one fine day that people call ‘love’,Before that my life was empty, all I had was loneliness and sorrow…I loved the way it felt being with him, for I felt up above,Now everything was complete and nothing remained hollow…That person who cupid made me fall for, was a God descended from heavens,I loved him with all I had, a true heart and a pure soul…I thought I achieved the meaning of life, never did I felt so glad,But when he left me amidst a chaos, I had no one with me to console…I cried, it hurt, I wept and screamed, everyone called me ‘mad’,And still I wonder if in my life, that actually was his role…But a string still binds me to my past of untold vow,Some unsaid promises that linger between us even now,Although I don’t know where he went after that fateful day…I still try to convince myself every day, I know how,Each moment has been tough, each day a new challenge…Each hour passed as if it was my heart that always allowed,One more day to live without him, one more day to cherish…One more day to spend without the love of my life somehow,But he doesn’t know that one day, the girl herself would perish…Who loved him and lived each day of her life in his wait,For the man who never returned, for the man who wasn’t in her fate…

I can text in complete sentences. Oh, yeah, it’s a skill.” He smiled, proud of his accomplishments. “And, thanks to my mom being a competitive dancer as a teen, I know how to do the Lindy hop and the jitterbug.”I sat bolt upright, and Akinli rolled his eyes.“I swear, if you tell me you can jitterbug, I’m going to . . . I don’t even know. Set something on fire. No one can dance like that.”I pursed my lips and dusted off my shoulder, a thing I’d seen Elizabeth do when she was bragging.As if he was accepting a challenge, he shrugged off his backpack and stood, holding out a hand for me.I took it and positioned myself in front of him as he shook his head, grinning.“All right, we’ll take this slow. Five, six, seven, eight.”In unison, we rock stepped and triple stepped, falling into the rhythm in our head. After a minute, he got brave and swung me around, lining me up for those peppy kicks I loved so much.People walked by, pointing and laughing, but it was one of those moments when I knew we weren’t being mocked; we were being envied.We stepped on each other’s toes more than once, and after he accidentally knocked his head into my shoulder, he threw his hands up.“Unbelievable,” he said, almost as if he was complaining. “I can’t wait to tell my mom this. She’s gonna think I’m lying. All those years dancing in the kitchen thinking I was special, and then I run across a master.

I mean, we don’t have to worry about it until winter, anyway,” she said. “I was just wondering if you felt cured.”I didn’t know what to tell her. I didn’t feel cured. I felt like what Cole said —almost cured. A war survivor with a phantom limb. I still felt that wolf that I’d been: living in my cells, sleeping uneasily, waiting to be coaxed out by weather or a rush of adrenaline or a needle in my veins. I didn’t know if that was real or suggested. I didn’t know if one day I would feel secure in my skin, taking my human body for granted.“You look cured,” Grace said. Just her face was visible at the end of the shower curtain, looking in at me. She grinned and I yelled. Grace reached in just far enough to shut off the tap.“I’m afraid,” she said, whipping the shower curtain open all the way and presenting me with my towel, “this is the sort of thing you’ll have to put up with in your old age.” I stood there, dripping, feeling utterly ridiculous, Grace standing opposite, smiling with her challenge. There was nothing for it but to get over the awkwardness. Instead of taking the towel, I took her chin with my wet fingers and kissed her. Water from my hair ran down my cheeks and onto our lips. I was getting her shirt all wet, but she didn’t seem to mind. A lifetime of this seemed rather appealing. I said gallantly, “That better be a promise.

And there’s one other matter I must raise. The epidemic of domestic sexual violence that lacerates the soul of South Africa is mirrored in the pattern of grotesque raping in areas of outright conflict from Darfur to the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and in areas of contested electoral turbulence from Kenya to Zimbabwe. Inevitably, a certain percentage of the rapes transmits the AIDS virus. We don’t know how high that percentage is. We know only that women are subjected to the most dreadful double jeopardy.The point must also be made that there’s no such thing as the enjoyment of good health for women who live in constant fear of rape. Countless strong women survive the sexual assaults that occur in the millions every year, but every rape leaves a scar; no one ever fully heals.This business of discrimination against and oppression of women is the world’s most poisonous curse. Nowhere is it felt with greater catastrophic force than in the AIDS pandemic. This audience knows the statistics full well: you’ve chronicled them, you’ve measured them, the epidemiologists amongst you have disaggregated them. What has to happen, with one unified voice, is that the scientific community tells the political community that it must understand one incontrovertible fact of health: bringing an end to sexual violence is a vital component in bringing an end to AIDS.The brave groups of women who dare to speak up on the ground, in country after country, should not have to wage this fight in despairing and lonely isolation. They should hear the voices of scientific thunder. You understand the connections between violence against women and vulnerability to the virus. No one can challenge your understanding. Use it, I beg you, use it.

Discovery first flew in 1984, the third orbiter to join the fleet. It was named for one of the ships commanded by Captain James Cook. Space shuttle Discovery is the most-flown orbiter; today will be its thirty-ninth and final launch. By the end of this mission, it will have flown a total of 365 days in space, making it the most well traveled spacecraft in history. Discovery was the first orbiter to carry a Russian cosmonaut and the first to visit the Russian space station Mir. On that flight, in 1995, Eileen Collins became the first woman to pilot an American spacecraft. Discovery flew twelve of the thirty-eight missions to assemble the International Space Station, and it was responsible for deploying the Hubble Space Telescope in 1990. This was perhaps the most far reaching accomplishment of the shuttle program, as Hubble has been called the most important telescope in history and one of the most significant scientific instruments ever invented. It has allowed astronomers to determine the age of the universe, postulate how galaxies form, and confirm the existence of dark energy, among many other discoveries. Astronomers and astrophysicists, when they are asked about the significance of Hubble, will simply say that it has rewritten the astronomy books. In the retirement process, Discovery will be the “vehicle of record,” being kept as intact as possible for future study.Discovery was the return-to-flight orbiter after the loss of Challenger and then again after the loss of Columbia. To me, this gives it a certain feeling of bravery and hope. ‘Don’t worry,’ Discovery seemed to tell us by gamely rolling her snow-white self out to the launchpad. 'Don’t worry, we can still dream of space. We can still leave the earth.’ And then she did.

Complex operations, in which agencies assume complementary roles and operate in close proximity-often with similar missions but conflicting mandates-accentuate these tensions. The tensions are evident in the processes of analyzing complex environments, planning for complex interventions, and implementing complex operations. Many reports and analyses forecast that these complex operations are precisely those that will demand our attention most in the indefinite future.As essayist Barton and O'Connell note, our intelligence and understanding of the root cause of conflict, multiplicity of motivations and grievances, and disposition of actors is often inadequate. Moreover, the problems that complex operations are intended and implemented to address are convoluted, and often inscrutable. They exhibit many if not all the characteristics of "wicked problems," as enumerated by Rittel and Webber in 1973: they defy definitive formulations; any proposed solution or intervention causes the problem to mutate, so there is no second chance at a solution; every situation is unique; each wicked problem can be considered a symptom of another problem. As a result, policy objectives are often compound and ambiguous. The requirements of stability, for example, in Afghanistan today, may conflict with the requirements for democratic governance. Efforts to establish an equitable social contract may well exacerbate inter-communal tensions that can lead to violence. The rule of law, as we understand it, may displace indigenous conflict management and stabilization systems. The law of unintended consequences may indeed be the only law of the land. The complexity of the challenges we face in the current global environment would suggest the obvious benefit of joint analysis - bringing to bear on any given problem the analytic tools of military, diplomatic and development analysts. Instead, efforts to analyze jointly are most often an afterthought, initiated long after a problem has escalated to a level of urgency that negates much of the utility of deliberate planning.

But because divorce was so unheard of in middle-class Indian society, people looked at divorcées with a sort of incredulous shock and wonder, as if they were somehow criminals. They were ostracized from everyday life because of an invisible scarlet D hovering over them. Meanwhile, Second Wave feminism in the United States was changing attitudes about how women were treated in the workplace and in society, and how unmarried women were perceived in particular. Women were challenging age-old notions of their place in the world. Western media was full of unafraid, smart American women who published magazines, were marching in DC, and were generally making a lot of noise. No such phenomenon had reached our Indian shores. I’m sure my mother had read about the ERA movement, Roe v. Wade, and bra burnings. She, too, wanted the freedom to earn a living in a country where she wouldn’t be a pariah because of her marital status. We could have a fighting chance at surviving independently in the United States, versus being dependent on her father or a future husband in India. Conservative as he was, my grandfather K. C. Krishnamurti, or “Tha-Tha,” as I called him in Tamil, had encouraged her to leave my father after he witnessed how she had been treated. He respected women and loved his daughter and it must have broken his heart to see the situation she had married into. He, too, wanted us to have a second chance at happiness. America, devoid of an obvious caste system and outright misogyny, seemed to value hard work and the use of one’s mind; even a woman could succeed there. My grandfather was a closet feminist.

What doesthis F. — I.W. mean?”“Initial-slang,” informed Baines. “Made correctby common usage. It has become a worldwidemotto. You’ll see it all over the place if you haven’tnoticed it already.”“I have seen it here and there but attached no importanceto it and thought nothing more about it. Iremember now that it was inscribed in several placesincluding Seth’s and the fire depot.”“It was on the sides of that bus we couldn’tempty,” put in Gleed. “It didn’t mean anything tome.”“It means plenty,” said Jeff. “Freedom — IWon’t!”“That kills me,” Gleed responded. “I’m stonedead already. I’ve dropped in my tracks.” Hewatched Harrison thoughtfully pocketing the plaque.“A piece of abracadabra. What a weapon!”“Ignorance is bliss,” asserted Baines, strangelysure of himself. “Especially when you don’t knowthat what you’re playing with is the safety catch ofsomething that goes bang.”“All right,” challenged Gleed, taking him up onthat. “Tell us how it works.”“I won’t.” Baines’ grin reappeared. He seemed tobe highly satisfied about something.“That’s a fat lot of help.” Gleed felt let down, especiallyover that momentary hoped-for reward.“You brag and boast about a one-way weapon, tossacross a slip of stuff with three letters on it and thengo dumb. Any folly will do for braggarts and anybraggart can talk through the seat of his pants. Howabout backing up your talk?”“I won’t,” repeated Baines, his grin broader thanever. He gave the onlooking Harrison a fat, significantwink.It made something spark vividly within Harrison’smind. His jaw dropped, he dragged the plaque fromhis pocket and stared at it as if seeing it for the firsttime.“Give it back to me,” requested Baines, watchinghim.Replacing it in his pocket, Harrison said veryfirmly, “I won’t.”Baines chuckled. “Some people catch on quicker than others.