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Well... I want to open this pillar post by admitting that we're all tied to the pillar, in a manner of speaking. Each of us, I hope, has something in our life that is more important than writing. Or, perhaps, many things. This is the pillar to which our work is tied. Chained, even. Me, I wouldn't have it otherwise, as I explained in the Rommentary to my song On Your Way .
By C. Rommial Butler2 years ago in Writers
Why Visit Angkor Wat During Khmer New Year?
Angkor Wat, the majestic temple complex in Cambodia, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the most breathtaking archaeological wonders in the world. While it attracts millions of visitors year-round, experiencing Angkor Wat during Khmer New Year (usually celebrated in mid-April) is a truly unique and unforgettable experience.
By Keo Sopherth2 years ago in Writers
The Last Message
In the stillness of the night, when the world is asleep, a single message can change everything. It can ignite hope, trigger confusion, or shatter the hearts of those left behind. One of these messages came to the Carter family four years ago. It would lead them on an incredible journey to learn the truth about their son's enigmatic disappearance..
By Kazi Rafid2 years ago in Writers
Promises For Tomorrow Winners
ViM's March Prompt is complete, voting is done, and we are ready to announce the winners. For this prompt, we asked entrants to write 600 words about a promise to themselves that, if kept, will help make the near future a better and brighter place. Each submission had to be posted in the motivation community. You can read more about the challenge at the link below. ⇊⇊
By Mother Combs2 years ago in Writers
Humanitarian Aid from Barkal and Jurachari Sangha and Lay Community for Myanmar Earthquake Victims
The Bhikkhu Sangha's and Barkal and Jurachhari Donors' Humanitarian Initiative to Help the Burmese Earthquake Victims Untold numbers of people suffered greatly when a devastating and destructive earthquake struck Myanmar recently. In this moment of crisis, the Bhikkhu Sangha and various Vihara committees and donors from the Barkal and Jurachhari regions of Bangladesh's Chittagong Hill Tracts extended their humanitarian assistance. The Bhikkhu Sangha's eminent monks made a total of 29 contributions to this humanitarian endeavor. Each monk provided financial aid according to their capacity, with notable contributions from Venerables Dharmashree Thero, Ratnasar Bhikkhu, Pragnadarshi Bhikkhu, and Mahipal Bhikkhu, among others, each gave more than 2,000 taka. In addition, monks such as Venerable Karmapal Thero, Venerable Kalyanashree Mahathero, and Venerable Bipulananda Mahathero participated in this noble endeavor. Additionally, Barkal and Jurachhari Upojela's various Vihara committees and donors collectively contributed financial assistance. Noteworthy contributions include: Barkal Sadar Vihara Committee and Donors: 12,155 Taka 7,620 taka from the Kusumchhari Monoram Vihara Committee and donors and 5,100 taka from the Bilchhara Vihara Committee and donors Additionally, contributions came from various Vihara committees and initiatives. For this worthy cause, 123,395 taka were collected all together. On 5/4/25, 75,000 taka were sent, and on 6/4/25, 48,390 taka were sent. This money was handed over to Venerable Buddha Jyoti Thero, the Secretary of the Parbatty Bhikkhu Sangha Bangladesh Office, to ensure it reaches the victims in Myanmar in due time. This humanitarian assistance exemplifies the Buddha's teachings of compassion, empathy, and mutual friendship and is without a doubt a shining example of the charitable tradition. All monks, donors, and committees who participated in this timely and noble initiative deserve our respect and gratitude.
By Manson Chakma2 years ago in Writers
The Echoes of Eloria
Chapter 1: The Forgotten City Eloria had once been the heart of civilization—a city where magic flowed like water, where wisdom was revered, and time itself bent to the will of its people. But that was before the fracture, before the curse that shattered the fabric of reality and trapped the city in an endless loop. Now, only the ruins remained, whispered about in stories, hidden beneath the veil of time’s decay.
By Safiullah Yousufzai2 years ago in Writers
Breaking Free from Procrastination
I’ve noticed something strange about procrastination... It never shows up when you’re playing that game on your phone for hours. It doesn’t interrupt your late-night TikTok scroll sessions. But the moment you need to create, build, learn, or grow—that’s when procrastination comes knocking. Can you relate? I’ve struggled with this through almost every phase of my life—and if you’re honest, I bet you have too. There’s that tiny spark of guilt that flares up mid-distraction… That quiet reminder whispering: “You’re meant to be doing something better with your time.” That’s the beginning. That’s when the shift starts. We often say, “I’m just not motivated.” And you know what? You’re not wrong. But the hard truth is this: No one is coming to hand you motivation. No one is coming to save you. That’s your job. I used to be great at giving myself excuses— “I haven’t written in a while because I've been so busy” “I’ll read later.” “I’m not in the mood.” “I'll work on that project later, I'm so tired now” Yet somehow, I had endless energy for hours of scrolling on Tiktok Sound familiar? That’s the thing about productivity—it often requires us to leave our comfort zone. And the brain? It’s wired for safety. It naturally resists anything unfamiliar, uncomfortable, or overwhelming. So when a task feels too big or emotionally heavy, our mind quickly switches to comfort mode—seeking the familiar: entertainment, distractions, even unnecessary small talk. Procrastination is often rooted in perfectionism, fear of failure, and the pressure of overwhelm. And if left unchecked, it slowly feeds a cycle of guilt, frustration, and avoidance. But the real thing is this: You can rewire your brain. You don’t need massive overnight change. You just need small, consistent habits.
By the.selfcare.advocate2 years ago in Writers
"The Thirsty Cow's Coca-Cola Mission". Content Warning. AI-Generated.
Once upon a sunny afternoon in a peaceful little village called Lassi Pur, a cow named Moozy stood near the barn, glaring at her boring old water trough. She sniffed the water, gave it a disgusted “Moo,” and turned away. “This water is so… basic,” Moozy muttered to herself, flaring her nostrils. “I need something with fizz. Something with flavor. Something… legendary.” Just then, the farm’s young boy, Zain, came bouncing into the yard. He popped open a can of Coca-Cola with a crisp PSSSHHHT and took a refreshing sip. Moozy’s ears perked up. Her eyes locked onto that red can like a heat-seeking missile. That sound. That scent. It was magic. Zain walked past Moozy without a second thought, holding the cold can in his hand. A single drop of condensation fell from the can and landed on Moozy’s nose. Her tongue flicked out instinctively. The taste—tiny, sweet, fizzy—sent fireworks off in her brain. “I must have it,” Moozy whispered. --- That night, under the full moon, Moozy gathered her supplies: a straw hat for sun protection, a pouch of grass snacks, and a rough sketch of the village with an “X” over the local shop where Zain got the cola. She slipped past the snoring farmer and the guard dog, Barkat, who was fast asleep with his belly in the air. With determination in every hoof, Moozy began her Coca-Cola quest. --- The first stop was the village shop. She peeked through the window and saw rows of beautiful red cans inside the fridge. She gently nudged the door. Locked. No problem. Moozy charged forward with unexpected ninja grace and broke through the wooden door with a loud CRASH. Bottles clinked. Alarms rang. The shopkeeper screamed. “Chor! Chor! GAAAYY CHOR!” (Thief! Thief! A COW THIEF!) Moozy didn’t care. She galloped to the fridge, yanked open the door with her horns, grabbed a can in her mouth—and bolted. The entire village was awake now. People ran outside in pajamas, slippers flying off. The shopkeeper chased her with a broom. Someone was recording it on their phone already. Moozy dashed through narrow lanes, jumping over buckets and bicycles, dodging rickshaws and chickens. The Coke can still hung from her mouth, cold and dripping with promise. --- Then came the first disaster. As she passed the tea stall, the can slipped! It rolled dramatically onto the road and got crushed under a donkey cart. Moozy stopped dead. Her eyes went wide. "Noooooooo!" She mooed so loud that all the village dogs started howling. She sniffed the flattened can and gave it a mournful lick. Not a single drop was left. But Moozy was not a quitter. --- Round two. She made her way to the school canteen, where she had once seen crates of soda delivered. She pushed open the side gate with her horns and snuck inside. To her joy, there were crates of unopened Coca-Cola! Jackpot! She popped one open and started drinking straight from the bottle. It was cold. It was sweet. It was everything she had dreamed of and more. Suddenly, she started feeling different. She started… dancing. Yes—Moozy, the cow, was now breakdancing in the school yard. Her hooves slid across the concrete. She spun in circles. She did the moonwalk. She even did a TikTok-worthy tail shake. Kids inside the school screamed in joy. Phones came out. Videos were taken. #MoozyOnFizzy started trending. --- Meanwhile, back at the farm, Farmer Haji Bakar was shocked to see Moozy’s stall empty. He turned on the TV and saw breaking news: “Dancing Cow Shocks Village – Coca-Cola Heist Caught on Camera!” There she was—his cow—on national television, doing the robot with a Coke bottle in hoof. He sighed. “Moozy again…” --- By now, Moozy was famous. People gathered around to see the dancing cow. Influencers offered her sponsorships. A soda company tried to sign her for an ad. But Moozy didn’t care about fame. She just wanted another bottle. That’s when disaster struck again. The Principal of the school showed up and yelled, “Get that cow out of here!” Security moved in. Moozy ran for her life again, Coke bottle in mouth, crowds cheering behind her. She ran through the bazaar, where vendors offered her milk and lassi—but she refused. She ran through the field, where the farmer tried to catch her with a net—but missed. She even dodged a drone that was live-streaming her journey. --- Finally, she returned to the farm, exhausted, with an empty Coke bottle hanging from her mouth like a trophy. The farmer stood there, arms crossed, waiting. He took the bottle, looked at Moozy, and said: “No more soda, Moozy. Only water from now on.” He placed a sign over her stall: “No Fizzy Drinks Allowed.” --- Epilogue: But that night, Moozy stared at the moon, dreaming of the fizz. Of the sparkle. Of the pop. And somewhere in the village, a vending machine beeped and dropped a Coke. Moozy smiled. The mission wasn’t over yet. --- Moral of the Story: Sometimes, dreams are just one sip away… even for a cow.
By Younas khan 2 years ago in Writers
