The Weekly Turni—Issue 90

There is a saying in the stock market: Bulls make money, Bears make money, but Pigs get slaughtered! The question is who are pigs? What makes you a pig? Believe me, if you have traded even a little bit, you have been a pig at least sometimes. I know, I have. The way you become a pig is when you start trading with your balls, instead of your brain. Pardon my French, but I have no better way to put it. So, the only way you can fix it is to be humble and follow a written process, which people call a trading plan. The difference between a good trader and a pig is just that. A good trader usually is a pig far less than a bad one. That is all there is to it, There is no magic trick, there is no silver bullet, and there is no wise old man.

The reason I say all this today is because overnight I saw a price/volume spike on hive. Morons in the cryptocurrency space call it PUMP. If you use the word "pump", you are one. Yes, today I am not going to give it to you sugar-coated, because doing the same mistake over and over again and expecting different results is called insanity. The reason I am writing it this way is the fact every time this happens there are a few people who try to predict the price movement of Hive. They started thinking that this is going to go up forever, To Da Moon! They say! Another sign of a moron! They hold their token, and some even buy some! $100 worth, $200 worth! What? Why? How many times do you have to learn that the price of any crypto, especially hive, is completely unpredictable? Anyone who says, "I know the Hive price movement like the back of my palm" is either stupid or worse, lying to himself/herself.

I am not going to give trading or investing advice here or anywhere because I can’t and because it is illegal. But I can tell you this, please don’t be a moron. It is painful to watch. It is good that some Korean Hedge fund or whatever is buying hive, please don’t be a moron and work towards your personal financial freedom.

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Sometimes the simplest things and the smallest details can truly brighten up your day.

A little bit of rain in this hellish heat, a short and unplanned walk while heading back home. Maybe even a sudden encounter, with a long lost friend.

Consistency is the key they say, but if you overdo it, then you may lose your touch and start feeling weary. That is why sometimes you must take it easy, take it slow, and pay a little of attention to the things that aren't so important.

In the days of routine and monotony that are suddenly interrupted by any small unexpected situation surprises us and makes us happy. It makes us feel better like this light breeze when opening the window.

This week's featured post : Thoughts and clouds - @duvinca

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We are also delighted to announce two honorable mentions of the week.

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-- by @zayedsakib

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-- by @rafa-noor

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--by @minhajmredol

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-- by @riz611

After about ten days of laying back and taking it easy in the greener parts of the country, I am at long last back, in the concrete jungle. Missed me? I sure as hell didn’t miss any of it.

Instead of swinging on random vines from tree to tree on the daily, I always find myself maneuvering through a horde of pedestrians in the back alley. Hopping from one means of transport to another, going from this part of town to the other.

They call me the king of this concrete jungle.

If I’m not in my feral, untamed form, when I’m away from nature and the self-ruled realm of mine, then I am quite possibly within and behind my well-composed, marionette variant, shuffling through a list of tasks.

In present time, there’s quite a long list that has occupied a fair bit of free real estate on my mind for quite a while now. Short-term, long-term, mid-term, you name it, we have all types of tasks toppling one another every now and then. The problem is, sometimes I can’t really figure out which task I should attend to first.

I always try to make sure that I’m fairly punctual when it comes to work. But by the time I manage to take care of work and my responsibilities, there’s barely any time or resources left for myself, which I can and would like to invest towards my well-being.

Alas, if it takes too long to solve an issue, then two more manage to pop up out of nowhere. Sometimes I just can’t keep up, or maybe I just don’t want to keep up?

So, eventually, I end up questioning my choices, and the path I’ve taken…

“Courage is not having the strength to go on; it is going on when you don't have the strength.” - Teddy Roosevelt

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-- by @fahmidamou

একঘেয়ে নিয়মে জীবন চলতে থাকে। কোনো প্রশ্ন নেই, কেবল ভীড় ঠেলে সামনে এগোতে থাকা একতাল প্রতিযোগী জনতা। কেউ জানেনা কিসের এত তাড়া, পিছনে ফিরে তাকাবার ফুরসৎ নেই।
কিন্তু হঠাৎ একদিন মধ্য দুপুরে থমকে দাঁড়ায় হয়তো কেউ কেউ। কিংবা ভোর রাতে ঘুম ভেঙে। ভাবার প্রয়াস পায়, এসব কিছু কেনো? কার তরে? আর এত আয়জনের মাঝে আমি কোথা?

কিন্তু এ চিন্তা শুধু ক্লান্তিকরই নয়, বরং আতঙ্কও ছড়ায়। অস্তিত্বের খোঁজে জাপটে ধরতে আসে এক ফাঁপা, নিশব্দ নিঃসঙ্গতা।

সবকিছুই কেবলই মরীচিকা। সবাই অন্তরের গভীরে কোথাও চাপা দিয়ে রাখে এটা। সম্মুখ সমরে যেতে রাজি নয়য় কেউ। মানুষ প্রাপ্তির আকাঙ্ক্ষায় আজন্ম দৌড়াতে দৌড়াতে, নিজেকে বঞ্চিত করতে করতে টেরও পায়না কখন জীবনটা ১৮ থেকে ৮১ হয়ে যায়।

অর্ধেকটা জীবন কেটে যায় পরীক্ষায় ভালো রেজাল্ট আর স্বনামধন্য কোথাও পড়তে পারবার সাধনায়, বাকি অর্ধেক জীবন চলে যায় চাকরি করে জীবন যোগানের চালনায়।

কেবল সামনে এগিয়ে যাবার যে এক দুর্নিবার নেশা, কেউ কি একবার ভুল করেও পিছনে তাকিয়ে দেখে? এই বস্তুকেন্দ্রিক আকুলতায় কেটে যাওয়া জীবন? কি দেখে হুইল চেয়ারে বসা বৃদ্ধটা যখন ফিরে তাকায়। কেমন লাগে প্রতিযোগিতা থেকে বিচ্যুত হওয়া জীবনটাকে?

যত আমাদের সমৃদ্ধি বাড়ছে, সংকীর্ণ হচ্ছি তত আমরা। সম্পর্কের দুরত্ব বাড়ছে, কমে আসছে আমাদের সহনশীলতা।
আমরা যত বেশী যোগাযোগ করছি, তত বেশী একাকীত্বতে ভুগছি।
এত মানুষ চারপাশে, কত গান আর কোলাহল তবুও সবাই কি ভীষণ নিঃসঙ্গ একাকিত্বের চাদরে মুড়িয়ে থাকছে!

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-- by @annabeth

Source

Perhaps silence is more than a
softened absence.
More than a bundled canvas of sound, stars
and seas falling into folded slumber.
More than a halted echo
of a dead language, dried syllables
upon dried mouthfuls of air.

Perhaps silence is also a fleshed
pause,
Like a wet velvety whisper
crashing over the roof of a mouth.
Splash.
A swallowed stillness, light
as baby's breath, tangled in budding
utterances.
Half-eaten ramblings that
will never break the surface of a
voiceless ocean.

Perhaps silence is a sleeping,
colourless garden that roams above and below,
before and after.
Slicing through the
shadows, sweeping across creased
white ash.

Shhh… Don't make a noise.

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-- by @tahminasyed

Pixabay

Slicks of glass on the streets,
Reminds me of the way we stirred.

Thousand miles of gestures pass,
With charming locks left untouched.

Streaks of light that hound our way,
Alarming movements left our gaze.

Lots of memories that collide,
Makes us We, Us that are here alright.

Sounds accumulate and echo through,
I can hear you but your presence is untrue.

On this wild breezy afternoon,
It is you that I listen to.

Stunning lighting on our way,
Remarking gaze fidgets the gate.

Silent movements capture our hearts,
nostalgia sighs at us.

Whistles of chaotic silence brushes our nose,
the night is getting younger to amuse.

Starting of beatings, memories outbreaking,
Throbbing murmurs fill the air.

Hesitant gestures slowly awakes
the blinding night, to shy away in a whisper.

Slicks of glass on the streets,
Reminds me of the way we stirred
through the night.

Thousand times our gestures subdue,
With charming locks starting to be touched
one at a time.

Silent movements seize our cores,
Throbbing murmurs spread in the air,
charming is the wild breezy night.

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