Tag: fruits

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If I Opened a Shop…

If you were going to open up a shop, what would you sell?

Not all shops sell things.Some sell hope.Some sell change.Some sell the belief that kindness can be bought — and given away — in the same moment.If I opened a shop, it wouldn’t be just shelves and counters.It would be a beating heart wrapped in four walls,a place where each item whispered a storyand every sale became a seed of change.

I would call it “The Giving Corner.”A space where books breathe hope,where handcrafted treasures carry the touch of their makers,and where even the smallest purchaseripples out to feed a hungry soul,lift a struggling dreamer,or plant dignity where the soil was once barren.In one corner, my words would rest —poems, stories, and thoughts stitched with care,waiting for hands to hold themand hearts to carry them forward.Because to me, a shop is not a business.It’s a bridge.

A way to connect your kindness to someone else’s tomorrow.A place where buying becomes giving,and every transactionis just another way of saying,“You matter.”And if you walked out of my shop,you wouldn’t just carry a bag.You’d carry a piece of someone’s hope.

💬 Your turn: If you opened a shop, what would your walls hold — and what would it stand for?#SocialImpact #Entrepreneurship #KindnessInAction #PenByZee

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Signs You Need to Change Your Roots for a Fulfilling Life

(Continuation of my earlier post: “Letting Away Your Roots to Change the Fruits”)

In life, our “roots” aren’t just where we come from — they are the thoughts we nurture, the habits we repeat, the people we surround ourselves with, and the stories we keep telling ourselves.

Sometimes, these roots feed us with strength and wisdom.
But other times, they keep us stuck in the same season, producing the same “fruits” — outcomes we no longer want.

Why We Hold On to Old Roots

Comfort Zone – The familiar feels safe, even when it limits us.

Fear of Change – Letting go means uncertainty, and uncertainty can feel risky.

Emotional Attachments – People, places, and patterns we’ve grown with feel like part of our identity.

Signs It’s Time to Change the Roots

Issues Encountered
You keep repeating the same mistakes or cycles despite wanting different results.
Your goals excite you, but your daily actions don’t align with them.
You feel drained, uninspired, or “stuck” even when everything seems fine on the surface.

How to Start Changing the Roots (Without Losing Yourself)

Self-Audit Your Garden 🌿 – Write down the influences, habits, and beliefs shaping your life right now. Identify which ones feed your growth and which ones starve it.

Prune with Purpose ✂ – Let go of one unhelpful habit, thought pattern, or commitment that no longer serves your bigger vision.

Replant with Intention 🌸 – Replace the old with something that energizes you: new skills, empowering relationships, or a mindset shift.

Water Daily 💧 – Consistency is the secret. Small, repeated actions grow new roots stronger than you think.

The truth is, you can’t grow mangoes from an apple tree.
If you want different fruits, you must be brave enough to change the roots that feed them.

So today, ask yourself:
✨ What one root will I change so my life can bear better fruits?

#GrowthMindset #PersonalDevelopment #MindsetShift #LifeLessons #PenByZee #Motivation #SelfImprovement

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What change,big or small,would you like your blog to make in the world?

What change, big or small, would you like your blog to make in the world?

If I could ask for one change—just one—from the words I share here, it would be this:

That we remember how deeply we need each other.

Not just in moments of crisis, not just when headlines remind us of suffering, but in the quiet, everyday spaces of life. The way a kind word softens someone’s day. The way shared stories remind us we’re not alone. The way a simple act of giving—whether food, time, or listening—can be a turning point in another person’s life.

My blog isn’t just about ideas, it’s about connection.
It’s about building a place—however small—where we remember that compassion isn’t weakness, it’s strength. That empathy isn’t a luxury, but a foundation. That when we choose to lift one another, even in the smallest of ways, we are building something far greater than ourselves.

I want this space to be a quiet rebellion against indifference.

A reminder that even when the world seems hardened, you still have the power to soften it—through your words, your presence, your care.

What if we stopped seeing people as strangers… and started seeing them as stories waiting to be heard?
What if we treated kindness not as a random act, but a conscious practice?

That is the change I hope this blog brings.

To inspire a deeper commitment to helping one another, to showing up with honesty, and to creating community where no one feels invisible

Because the truth is:
The world doesn’t change because of grand gestures.
It changes because we choose, again and again, to care.

So let this blog be a place where care lives.
Where trust is nurtured.
Where hope is kept alive not through perfection, but through the simple, sacred act of showing up—for one another.

This is Zoeb Ali – Zee, wishing you all the good luck in whatever positive, small or big you are doing in your life to improve life of your loved ones, unknown individuals and families struggling and needing your love ❤ and help and yourself. Keep reading my posts and comment,like and share so I know if my words make any difference to you. Thank you for reading my posts.

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Letting Away Your Roots to Change the Fruits

Hi everyone,

I  am still in recovery mode from my hernia surgery and currently working on my next post

Letting Away Your Roots to Change the Fruits.

Here I am intending to discuss how changing the way we think, the way we have been grown up to achieve the success with the changing time and situations. As I myself have been through a lot of changes emotionally, physically and in another aspects of my life.

I invite you to comment and like my topic and if you have anything that I should add or mention in my post please do le me know. I am happy to mention credit by adding your name/blogsites for authenticity if required.

With the hope of getting your support and love, signing off for now.

Looking forward to hear from you all.

Thank you,

Zee

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The Journey Home

There’s a certain pull that comes with the idea of “home.” It’s not just a place—it’s a collection of moments, memories, and emotions, woven together like a patchwork quilt. For me, that place is my hometown in India, where narrow streets hum with life, the aroma of freshly cooked spices lingers in the air, and laughter bounces off the walls of small, vibrant homes.

I left all of it behind, chasing opportunities in a distant, developed land. The choice felt right then, practical even. But as the years passed, I realized that while I gained material comforts, I left a part of my soul behind. My hometown—the soil, the people, the essence—called to me, but I was too distracted to listen.

Writing The Forgotten Garden brought back waves of nostalgia and reflection. It reminded me of a garden that once thrived in my childhood—a garden I abandoned along with my roots. Revisiting that garden in my mind stirred something profound: a longing to reconnect, to revive not just the garden but the parts of myself it represents.

This continuation is about that call, the journey back to one’s origins, and the healing that awaits when we answer.

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The call of home

The winds of time carried me far,
Across oceans wide, beneath foreign stars.
I built my dreams on distant lands,
With golden towers and weary hands.

But somewhere deep, a whisper grew,
A voice I knew, yet scarcely knew.
It called me back, both soft and strong,
A melody I’d lost too long.

The streets I walked in childhood days,
Now shadowed paths in memory’s haze.
The laughter, the cries, the scents that stayed,
Their echoes formed a fleeting parade.

The garden waits, a patient friend,
Its story unfinished, far from its end.
The flowers wilted, the fruitless trees,
Yet hope lingers in the breeze.

I pack my bags, not just with clothes,
But with fragments of dreams, with humble oaths.
To tend the soil that shaped my name,
And light once more that tender flame.

Each step I take feels bittersweet,
As past and present gently meet.
The forgotten blooms will rise anew,
In colors bright, in morning’s dew.

For home is not just bricks and stone,
But the seed of love we’ve always known.
It waits, it whispers, it longs to see,
The part of itself that lives in me.