Broken but Solid

By Tony Shahedi

Should we fight every moment that doesnt match what we pictured or wished for? Conflict and anxiety can play too large a role in our daily life. We may feel dejected after expecting too much from a particular moment. However, moments are transient, they can be altered and reconstructed by perception as we internalize them and store them in our mind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Jun 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781504357715

Tony Shahedi

Tony Shahedi, On June 2009 he was diagnosed with stage four cancer MCL or Mantel Cell Lymphoma. As he was schedule for an immediate chemotherapy he decided to turn down his chemo and look out for natural solutions as soon as he knew about this terrible diagnostic: “Fibro Myalgia chronic pain disease.” Very inside of himself he had the answer and an option that will permit him another way to survive. His option to heal was through: “body and mind.” That meant to be through peaceful mind and peaceful thoughts by reprogramming the paradigm that was hunting him with bad karma from the past. This book is written to give people an option among many and to help you to overcome any stage of life healthy or not. Tony’s only intention is to provide you with his personal experiences and information that kept and help him to be alive until this day. It has been seven years since the horrible medical diagnostic. when he was looking for answers he couldn’t find something that could give him peace of mind so, Tony decided to begin his long term medical research. His experience and the results of this huge investigation and research is what he is sharing with all of us now and motivated him to write and to share this book with everyone that is in need of “ Better thoughts, accurate perception, clear mind and especially healthy and happy relationships.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 Tony Shahedi.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5770-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5043-5771-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016908327

Balboa Press rev. date: 07/21/2016

11243.png

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1:   Growing Up

Chapter 2:   Soda Pop Effect

Chapter 3:   Pendulum

Chapter 4:   Incubation

Chapter 5:   Tourniquet

Chapter 6:   Variables

Chapter 7:   Synapse

Chapter 8:   Pomegranate Diamond

Chapter 9:   Transformer

Chapter 10:   Pine Cone Paradigm

Chapter 11:   Chloroheal

Chapter 12:   Anaconda

Chapter 13:   The Book of Numbers

Chapter 14:   Ludicrous

Chapter 15:   Checkered Flag

Chapter 16:   Liberation

TABLE OF FIGURES

Figure 1: Soda Pop Effect

Figure 2: Pendulum

Figure 3: Results!

Figure 4: Progress!

Figure 5: Rollercoaster

Figure 6: Dream Killer Boots

Figure 7: Synapse

Figure 8: Variables

Figure 9: Variables 2

Figure 10: Relaxed Rope

Figure 11: Transition Rope

Figure 12: Transition Rope 1

Figure 13: Synapse 2

Figure 14: Synapse 3

Figure 15: Healthy Rope

Figure 16: Synapse 3

Figure 17: Thought Deterioration

Figure 18: Thought Deterioration 2

Figure 19: Red Rope

Figure 20: Black Rope 2

Figure 21: Pomegranate Diamond

Figure 22: But’s Ok

Figure 23: Pine Cone Paradigm

Figure 24: Chloroheal

Figure 25: Chloroheal 2

Figure 26: Anaconda

Figure 27: Spread Your Fingers

Figure 28: Keypad

Figure 29: Book of Numbers!

Figure 30: Ludicrous

Figure 31: Stoplight

Figure 32: Download Bar

Figure 33: Stoplight 2

Figure 35: Liberation

DEDICATION

I was inspired to write this book by those who deeply changed and still change my life in ways I can’t describe. I’ve dedicated this book to the following:

My daughter, Shannaleah, without whose birth I would have never known how grand love could truly be. You are the light of my life!

My Parents, Manijeh and Quasam, for giving me life and unconditional love.

Annette, my hero, who stayed by me through thick and thin.

Julia, my sister-in-law, who introduced me to the wonders of meditation and to her fascination for the universe’s power. Thanks to her, I was eager and excited to write this book. I will always remember your reminder that love heals everything.

Deepak Chopra, who I listened to day in and day out when I craved inner peace.

I love you all.

CHAPTER 1

GROWING UP

I was born in Tehran, Iran on April 2 nd , 1959 – the day after April Fools’. My mother used to tell me stories about how hard I kicked inside her and how I resisted exiting her until midnight. She told me about how everyone reacted to the unusual birth mark that I have to this day. It amused her, she said it was like a message from another world. The mark read seventy in Iranian, a precise number with profound imagery. The mark looked so crisp that it seemed impossible for it to have been an accident. Family and guests would later pay me to see it. I still remember the look on their faces.

Something else widened onlooker’s eyes at my birth. I was born with a thin, white substance covering my face. A holy person, well-respected by the community, was called in immediately and was astonished when he saw it. He said a few special prayers and declared that there was something special about me. Weeks after, we moved to Abadan, where I was raised until the age of seventeen.

At the time, Abadan was surrounded by artillery and sandbags because Iraq was just across the water and tensions were high. My father was head of intelligence at one of the world largest oil refineries. He was tasked with defending it from Iraqi attacks. He was connected to so many people in high positions that it took me fifty years to unravel his network. He also had three thousand soldiers at his command. He was a great man and a provider. He tended to our needs and devoted himself to my mother.

My mother, apart from having an amazing touch when it came to cooking, was the friendliest, nicest person I know. I can still taste her dishes. Everything was homemade, including tomato paste and sauce with juice; strawberry, orange, and blueberry jam; and pickled vegetables. When she wasn’t cooking, she kept herself busy by sewing calmly.

My upbringing was ideal, but I experienced several incidents that left many in my family worried for a long time. At five years old, I had accident that left me in a difficult condition. I became completely mute for three years, and extremely sensitive to sudden loudness. My parents brought doctors from Europe to help me out of a world of insecurity and darkness. I stuttered and struggled for many years before I gained my life back.

Not long after, my parents hired a tormentor disguised as an angel – my nanny. During the day, she appeared loving, but at night, when my parents visited their friends and celebrated elsewhere, I was in for torture. My nanny hated me, even though I was a child with a speech impediment.

She used to drag me out of my home at night and into the backyard by the ear, hair, or neck. I still remember that solid metal door and how it amplified the sound she made as she forced my small body to the backyard and slammed it behind me.

She would tell me that demons were waiting for me and say I was rotten spoiled, and she would whisper in my ear that all the monsters and dead people were waiting for me in the backyard. Then, she would turn off all the lights facing the backyard and listen to my screams of terror.

She told me the undead were buried in our backyard and liked to hide among our thick tomato plants, that they would take me to hell and eat me alive. She told me that if I said anything to anyone, she would poison my whole family.

Eventually, the old demonic witch left and died. However, my freedom didn’t last. Someone very close to me became my next tormentor. As I recovered from my previous torture, my parents gave me extra love and attention to restore my wilting mind. That made this person unhappy and resentful.

He began to behave like my ex-nanny – he would even call me spoiled kid. He never appreciated my parents taking my side. It usually started with a cold stare, then eye contact – a deathly look that meant I’ll get you later. As a result, I used to beg my mom not to take my side. Oh, how he used to wait for my folks to leave so he could bite the crap out of me and toss me around.

My knees would begin to shake when my mom would kiss me goodbye. It felt like the kiss of death. She would tell my reaper with his so much hate for me to watch me not knowing the truth and he would grin. This continued for a while, until I became larger and tougher and eventually made him stop.

When the Iran-Iraq War broke out, a stiff curfew was instituted everywhere. Anyone found outside after nine was to be shot by soldiers patrolling the streets. Nothing would stop the changes that swept the country.

Many of my friends fought the new regime and died. Many lost their home and life savings and never received recompense, my parents included. I saw the burning of nine hundred people, including three of my best friends, in a locked movie theater – the locals’ favorite. I witnessed the charcoaled bodies outside as they were bulldozed onto the street. Although the street was black with objects and