You are my wealth, my dearest and unique, And always because of you my speech is art. Don’t let your peace be broken and bleak, I will not let your candle in my heart depart.
Your presence means that my existence is true, I have no happiness and joy apart from you My nation, in my heart, pride I knew, For you are the light that illuminates my way anew.
Abdusaidova Jasmina Quvondiqovna A student of class 8-“D” at School No. 22, Gallaorol district, Jizzakh region. Born on July 20, 2011. I am interested in artistic skills such as drawing and writing poetry.
Elevation is more than just a word. It embodies the essence of growth, progress, and the continuous journey toward excellence. Whether in personal life, technology, art, or society, the desire to rise above, to reach new heights, is a defining feature of human experience. This article explores the many dimensions of elevation, illustrating how striving for higher standards shapes individuals and the world around them.
Personal Elevation
At its core, elevation begins within the individual. Personal growth is the foundation of every achievement. It involves learning from experiences, overcoming challenges, and continually refining one’s skills and mindset. Discipline, persistence, and a commitment to self-improvement are key drivers of this ascent.
Consider the lives of pioneers, inventors, and visionaries. They demonstrate that personal elevation is rarely instantaneous; it is the result of consistent effort and resilience. By embracing failure as a stepping stone rather than a setback, individuals unlock their potential and elevate themselves beyond limitations.
Technological Elevation
Elevation is not limited to personal development; it extends into the realm of innovation. Technology exemplifies humanity’s desire to transcend boundaries. From supercars that combine speed with engineering precision to airplanes that shrink the vastness of the world, technology lifts human capability to unprecedented levels.
Artificial intelligence, renewable energy, and space exploration are prime examples of how human ingenuity transforms obstacles into opportunities. Elevation in technology reflects a broader principle: the pursuit of perfection and the drive to enhance life through invention.
Cultural and Artistic Elevation
Art and culture provide another dimension of elevation. Music, literature, painting, and architecture inspire and challenge the mind, fostering creativity and introspection. They encourage us to see the world from new perspectives and appreciate beauty in complexity.
Through engagement with art, individuals elevate their consciousness. The refinement of taste and critical thinking enriches the human experience, demonstrating that elevation is not only about material achievement but also about the depth of understanding and emotional resonance.
Societal Elevation
Communities and societies also experience elevation. Education, scientific discovery, and cooperative efforts enable societies to progress and innovate. Cultural exchange and collaboration foster collective growth, raising standards and unlocking new possibilities.
Societal elevation emphasizes that individual advancement and community progress are interconnected. A society that values knowledge, innovation, and compassion cultivates an environment where its members can rise together, achieving heights that would be impossible alone.
Challenges on the Path to Elevation
The journey toward elevation is rarely smooth. Obstacles, setbacks, and uncertainties test determination and resilience. Fear of failure, self-doubt, and external pressures can hinder progress. However, these challenges also serve as catalysts for growth.
Overcoming adversity strengthens character and clarifies purpose. True elevation comes not from avoiding difficulties but from confronting them and continuing upward with resolve and vision.
Conclusion
Elevation represents the human pursuit of excellence, growth, and transformation. It spans personal development, technological innovation, artistic expression, and societal progress. It challenges us to rise, refine, and evolve.
By embracing elevation, we commit to a journey without a final destination—one where each step upward reveals new horizons and possibilities. The pursuit of elevation inspires, motivates, and reminds us that there is always a higher plane to reach, a higher self to become, and a higher world to create.
Author: My name is Saparov Akbar, and I was born on February 24, 2005, in Jizzakh district, Jizzakh region, Uzbekistan.
After finishing school, I chose to continue my path at Samarkand’s Economic and Service University (SamISI), where I am now a second-year student majoring in Tourism and Hospitality. Along the way, I’ve gained valuable volunteering experience at the airport, which gave me a chance to see the real world of service, communication, and leadership.
I always try to push myself beyond one field. I’ve earned certificates in Photoshop, After Effects, and Premiere Pro, and I also have achievements in sports, having taken part in regional and republic competitions.
But my real passions run deeper. I am in love with music — every genre has a place in my heart, but melancholic hip-hop, rock, and rage are where I feel the strongest connection. I’m also fascinated by technology, whether it’s computers, laptops, or smartphones, I love exploring their models and characteristics. Languages are another side of me: besides my native Uzbek, I am fluent in English and Russian, and I’m working toward learning Spanish, Arabic, Chinese, and other popular languages.
Another passion of mine is cars — I even lead a channel dedicated to them, because for me, the automotive world is more than just machines, it’s pure inspiration.
Still, beyond all of this, my biggest dream is to find myself — in religion, in humanity, in life — and to be worthy of being called a real human being. More than anything, I want to make my parents proud. And through it all, the person who inspires me the most is my mother — her love, trust, and care are the light that guides me every single day.
India – Haryana State University – Dr. Dalip Khetarpal
THE ELECTRICITY FAIRY
Dear friends, let’s begin by presenting these ideas, which may seem to have come to you relatively randomly, because they reflect what I’ve published online over the months…
The first concepts I’m going to develop relate to electricity, and I’ll list them here one after the other.
First of all, a note about electrical insulation in the transmission of electricity from one point to another. Yes, because while this energy can very easily be transported by cable, an electric wire, a metal wire that carries the precious electricity through its conductive properties, we have never yet, for technical reasons related to the difficulty of insulating the current, succeeded in distributing it otherwise than by using an overhead network of suspended electrical wires.
However, this is very expensive to maintain, it’s dangerous and fragile, and it also costs a lot in terms of energy loss because air is not a good insulator. Therefore, this system, which is still poor and unsightly for the natural environment of the facilities, is ultimately only a last resort, which satisfies no one.
My proposal is to use ceramic insulation to design tubes of what is called “technical ceramic” in chemistry, surrounded, for example, by rubber, an elastic material that is very resistant to temperature variations, to bury electrical cables rather than suspending them.
“Technical ceramic electrical insulation” is becoming increasingly cheaper to produce, thanks to advances in our chemistry. It is a material that is already well known today for other uses.
The rubber-like material surrounding the tube will be easy for experts to define, produce, and install, and this solution for burying wired cables, long sought after by everyone in the sector, would thus be within our reach.
I had this idea as a child, observing the insulating properties of ceramic and reflecting that its production costs would soon, and increasingly, decrease. Today, burying electrical installations thus insulated would undoubtedly cost much less than maintaining our suspended cables.
And the electricity fairy certainly still has much to offer us; we still have so much to discover! One of my development ideas, which I will present to you now, relates to this again: the photovoltaic-powered lamp.
Wouldn’t it be possible for us to design a lamp that, connected to a rechargeable battery and a photovoltaic cell capable of transforming its light into electricity, would be virtually perpetual?
You probably understand well that with a dedicated photovoltaic cell, which would serve as its main power supply in a short circuit, such a lamp would provide light almost in perpetuity.
And the answer to the question of whether it would be possible with our current technology to design and then manufacture such a tool is simply: yes!
It would even be very easy for us, apparently, since most modern photovoltaic cells react to the electric light emitted by a light bulb.
The battery that would serve as the lamp’s switch and for the eventual replacement of the cell could be recharged through the same circuit, making the device particularly durable.
It’s a brilliant idea, isn’t it? I urge my contemporaries to implement it.
One last remark concerning electricity, which I can make here, would be to consider increasing the radiation of light bulbs by covering them with mirrors.
This is what we do for flashlights and headlights.
I therefore urge you to consider that it would be very easy to design “nightlights” that, by simply covering them with one or more light-emitting diodes, would provide satisfactory supplemental lighting equal to or better than that of a current, bare light bulb, for example, with a single diode.
One or two diodes, powered by small batteries, for example, or by the mains, would then undoubtedly demonstrate great longevity and cost their users almost nothing in terms of energy consumption or maintenance.
This idea, which I myself have already seen developed at the artisanal level, would make it possible to provide electric lighting to populations that are either disadvantaged or deprived of access to distribution networks.
It would undoubtedly also prove very practical for anyone who needs outdoor lighting, and I’m thinking here in particular of the military, who would see the advantages of a mirror-clad LED lamp in terms of portability and ease of powering or repair.
Mirror-clad light sources have been used since ancient times. It was already mentioned at the legendary lighthouse of Alexandria.
As for LED bulbs, they are booming today, becoming increasingly cheaper and more efficient!
(…)
A text by Timothee Bordenave in Paris, France.
Autumn 2025. For Dr. Khetarpal at the Afflatus Creations Peer Review, in India.
this is for all of you I mistook your hazy smiles for friendship.
how was I supposed to know you just wanted to run? I thought you were a mind-reader, a savior, a person who understood the deadly-slow inside-out gnawing my heart’s being subjected to-
but now I realize you’re just a breath, a moment, a memory I’ll touch on when I’m lonely you were there once, twice, a flash, a fleeting breath, a whisper in the dark
but now you’re gone like the sun at night and I should’ve known we’re all alone again
“The reality of being human is to hope against hope. The believing that there is a meaning to life when we have every reason to believe that we are made of dirt and buried as ash, believing that things will turn out okay when we live in a world with no guarantees and a thousand unhappy endings, believing in humanity even after you’ve watched your kind start wars and commit murders, believing in kindness even after you’ve seen evil.”
There is something violently beautiful about pain, and the birth of the stars is no exception. Choking on ash, collapsing and burning, something so tragic can become beautiful, just in a matter of seconds. And then they die, and it all is forgotten.
This, of course, is far besides the point, but it lives in my mind most days. I, too, am a container for horror, and making it look effortless. I, too, know how to be born in an awful world, and not scream.
I have become a slave to ecstacy, not the drug, but the belief that everything will be okay. A cruel hope, if you will. I suppose I have a tendency to turn everything in my life tragic or manic, but eighteen years a slave will do that to a person. It is cruel, I think, to an extent, to be born so dependent on happiness. It is cruel that we are able to manufacture it, if we just close our eyes.
And so, we let it continue.
Here are the rules of living in a suburbia: don’t open your eyes, don’t shake your head, and whatever you do, don’t think. Of course, nothing bad will happen if you do think, but hope is a dangerous thing to have, and an even more dangerous thing to lose. And besides, the act of pretending is better if you don’t think: less painful.
I have heard when stars are born, a whole universe collapses, a universe made of ash and clouds of dust. I reach out to touch it, the fear, the ache, but I cannot reach it. I cannot feel it. I cannot feel anything at all.
My mother used to tell me that there is a place, a place between life and death, where all you see is a blinding light, so fierce it overwhelms you. I chose not to tell her I’d felt this way for years.
Evil doesn’t die, it is reborn and reborn like a star.
I used to think that murder was savage. I thought that when you were dragged off, you would leave trails of rose petals like blood behind you, crimson staining the cream-fleshed snow. But that is not what murder is like, not at all. You are unpeeled, slowly, like the leaves of a hibiscus flower, and left to take your last shallow breaths, your heart beating within your ribs, your life forgotten already.
You are like a lamb, made for the slaughter.
But of course, all beautiful things are wicked, dead or alive.
Girl: As a Ship in a Bottle
¨Please¨, I would repeat, over and over again, looking to the stars in the sky. ¨Let me be free.¨ After the shipwreck, nobody had any words for me other than I’m Sorry. The word was etched into the table I ate at, and sketched into the books I would read. I’m Sorry, I’m Sorry, I’m Sorry. I had no eyes, no ears, no mouth, I had taken them all off so I could no longer notice. The strangers had begun mailing them, sending the I’m Sorry’s small and neatly packed, and when all the boxes and drawers overflowed, I began to keep them in a jar.
At first the idea had seemed faultless. Stacking them up into neat diamond shapes, the well wishes became smaller and smaller, until I seldom felt them crawling up the murky depths of my throat. Seldom felt them like a sickness. It became like a twisted little game, or a song, shoving the pillow over my head, ignoring the chorus of words coming from my bedside cabinet. But still, I could walk, I could run, I could sing, and so I did- sing until the sky faded away, and my boyfriend was gone, and I was all alone, left- to shove a pillowcase over my head to drown out the noise.
The medium of my memories never ceased to recreate itself, taking the form of a little creature or a gaunt damsel tiptoeing across acres/fields. Death, in its ominous omniscience never shows it’s true form, as not to lose it’s mysery. No, rather it stomps and roars in it’s anger, and the I’m Sorry’s just kept coming. When the jar too was filled, I took out a bottle, and set it on the table, waiting. I pulled myself under the covers. It was too dark. And when the next letter came, I grabbed it, meaning to toss it into the sea.
I Love You, I’m Sorry.
Underneath the easel by the table, I glanced at the food on a nearby plate. It’s been tagged-, well wishes, Liz- and I was underneath the easel. Had they painted me on a cross, the me that they wanted to see? I was a legend.
I was a hoax.
I glanced down at the bottle, the one full of secrets and false promises. The one that had kept me within it. Victim, survivor, some sort of chivalrous martyr. And as I set it- to drift, not to sink- I whispered something.
¨Let me out of the bottle.¨
The Dream
“If you were loved in a dream, does it count? That love- does it count?”
reference, The God of Small Things
What is love?
An addiction, perhaps? It’s an addicting feeling, and you just can’t be fully happy once you find out that it exists.
To a person who isn’t loved, attention is the closest thing you will ever feel. You will save it, scrap it. You will treasure it. You will earn it. You will do anything for it.
To a person who isn’t loved, violence is stronger than any kiss.
I have this friend.
I built her out of memories.
I miss her some nights- she now lives in the sky.
Does grief count as love? Perhaps hatred of what you never had is proof of something you could have had.
Perhaps that’s why the abused search for abuse and murder.
Sickness leads to pity, and pity can feel like love. Pity can lead to abuse. Abuse can also feel like love. So maybe I want to be sick.
That’s the thing, right? Have you ever wanted something so badly your knees buckled, and your lips trembled, and you felt like you could die? Didn’t you feel alive? Wouldn’t you do anything to feel that want?
Does that sound crazy? Does it? You feel like a wolf feeding off scraps of what other people own.
Mentally ill, they call you. Not alone or desperately lonely. Not made of other people’s actions. Somehow you have become what they have done. Somehow it has become on you.
Well as long as it is your fault, you have to point this out: it wasn’t as if it wasn’t warranted. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t spent thousands of nights alone in your own mind, so who could blame you for becoming what you did?
And that’s the problem, right? When you’re alone in your head? So you start to make some friends.
In the Play “My First Ex-Husband” Ex-Wives Discover Their Superpower
Joy Behar exposes marital complexities with caustic & hilarious wit currently touring at a city near you…
By Jacques Fleury
Joy Behar, legendary comedienne and co-host of The View, gives us an intrepid and authentic adaptation of true stories with serrated comicality–minus any sort of politically correct filters. The play is an introspective of the often-muddled hysterical realities of love, sex, and relationships. Whether you’re joyfully united, guardedly devoted, or considering altering the locks, relationships are intricate—and collectively associable. These stories could be all our stories, except wittier. The basic premise of the show is every weekend, an ensemble of four stars from theatre, television, and film join the show, bringing their inimitable dispositions to voice these tales that may be uncannily familiar to you or someone you know. Shocking yet profoundly germane to the times, this show will reverberate with anyone who has piloted the tempestuous and often prickling seas of love. In addition to other titillating surprises, the show contests and questions ideologies of patriarchal authority, blind loyalty, self-esteem, physical and psychological abuse, gaslighting, subservience, physical and emotional constraints, lack of respect and more…The play showed to sold out crowds at the Huntington Calderwood at the Boston Center for the Arts in September of 2025 and will resume touring possibly in a city near you. According to the My First Ex-Husband website pending performances will at the following cities: Florida, California, Washington, Colorado, Texas, Connecticut and more…
“The stories are very relatable,” utters playwright Joy Behar. “Even if you never got a divorce, you still have problems with in-laws…or sex, or kids, or money… Marriage is a work in process all the time.” Behar was emphatic about how “true” the ex-husband stories are but said that they were admittedly tweaked for dramatic effects…A touchy yet facetious aspect of the play was when members of the “Ex-Husband” ensemble related tales of how their husbands used to cause them to feel insecure by poking fun at their weight, or “subtly hinting” that they need to improve their appearances to fit their husband’s standards of beauty. The fat jokes scored big and landed like a hilarious thud with audience members.
My First Ex-Husband is a visceral emotionally charged experience that explores and shatters any preconceived notions of marital uniformity. It extrapolates on the gradations, conceptions and misconceptions of marriage lore. With her signature brand of dynamic caustic and facetious wit, Joy Behar “brought it” to the Calderwood Pavilion stage at Boston Center for the Arts along with three of her equally funny female cohorts: Veanne Cox, Judy Gold, and Tonya Pinkins.
When you are embarking on the often symbiotic and potentially precarious journey of marriage, the core of you are could pose as a barrier or asset depending on who you married and your ever evolving marital circumstances. The play “My First Ex-Husband” can serve as a cautionary tale when entering marriage or any type of relationships in your lifetime. Times Square Chronicle declares that My First Ex-Husband “appeals to men, women, and anyone who has ever been in a relationship.” And I couldn’t agree more…
We are entering the dawn of a post “Me Too Movement” era, where women find personal freedom to discover their own versions of their authentic selves while redefining their own notion of beauty, not what their husbands or patriarchal society’s vision of what they think beautiful should be… In the grand scheme of things, I think until you get to know yourself and find out what your source of power is, you’ll be disconnected from the world hence you would only be moved by external circumstances, not discovering that you’re the one who makes things happen. In “My First Ex-Husband,” the women discover not only that their super power is self-love and self-respect but also that “true love” is one that frees not imprisons.
“My First Ex-Husband” has prodigious comic timing and socially conscious substance suitable to the times… A witty, emotionally charged and colorful artistic theatrical brush stroke of daring dramedy! I give this in-your-face smartly premeditated rumpus a 5 out of 5 stars!
Jacques Fleury
Jacques Fleury is a Boston Globe featured Haitian-American Poet, Educator, Author of four books and literary arts student at Harvard University online. His latest publication “You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self” & other titles are available at Public Libraries, the University of Massachusetts Healey Library, Wyoming University, Askews and Holts in the United Kingdom, The Harvard Book Store, amazon etc. His works appeared in publications such as Wilderness House Literary Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Litterateur Redefining World anthologies out of India, the Cornell University Press anthology Class Lives: Stories from Our Economic Divide among others. Visit him at:http://www.authorsden.com/jacquesfleury
Jacques Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey Towards Understanding Your Authentic Self
