I got this song from this movie. It's entitled "Way Back Into Love":
I've been living with a shadow overhead
I've been sleeping with a cloud above my bed
I've been lonely for so long
Trapped in the past, I just can't seem to move on
I've been hiding all my hopes and dreams away
Just in case I ever need 'em again someday
I've been setting aside time
To clear a little space in the corners of my mind
All I want to do is find a way back into love
I can't make it through without a way back into love
Oh oh oh
I've been watching but the stars refuse to shine
I've been searching but I just don't see the signs
I know that it's out there
There's got to be something for my soul somewhere
I've been looking for someone to shed some light
Not somebody just to get me through the night
I could use some direction
And I'm open to your suggestions
All I want to do is find a way back into love
I can't make it through without a way back into love
(Bridge:) And if I open my heart again
I guess I'm hoping you'll be there for me in the end
There are moments when I don't know if it's real
Or if anybody feels the way I feel
I need inspiration
Not just another negotiation
All I want to do is find a way back into love
I can't make it through without a way back into love
(Bridge 2:) And if I open my heart to you
I'm hoping you'll show me what to do
And if you help me to start again
You know that I'll be there for you in the end
Speaking of movies, there's a movie with a strong animal rights-empowerment message. Go watch it!
And I've finished my 30-day challenge (albeit with a pulled left hamstring and doing doubles once a week to replace my absence on Sundays, but YES, I DID IT!), I've submitted for (God-willing!) the Next Big Step in my life. It'll be held here, but while I merrily traipse around before The Big Event (note to self: replace with "chapter 22" at end to finish), I think I might stay here (as I'm told it's cheaper) though I'd prefer this (as I think this is even cheaper), but IT'S FULLY BOOKED, so distance-wise, this looks to be the best bet, though this, on the other hand, seems cheaper and safer, while still being close enough. Ah yes: for directions, Mapquest is truly my best friend, while for reviews, Trip Advisor is it.
But I'm straying. The song above has been on loop in my head since I watched the movie. As cheesy as it looks, I found it to be a truly enjoyable movie. Really. That song, to me, encapsulated the movie's message. And as much as the movie screamed budget flick, I liked the message it conveyed. After all, sometimes, it is these so-called budget flicks that prove to be the diamonds in the rough, so to speak. In this case, I loved the movie's message-in-the-song: To find a way back into love. And love not necessarily in a platonic sense, but love for self, confidence in oneself--enough to take risks, get out of one's shell, take that leap, and GROW.
Love is not what Candace Shapiro in "Good in Bed" said:
"Love," I said, "is the rug they pull out from under you. Love is Lucy always lifting the football at the last second so that Charlie Brown falls on his ass. Love is something that every time you believe in it, it goes away. Love is for suckers, and I'm not going to be a sucker ever again." When I closed my eyes, I could see myself as I was, lying on the bathroom floor, highlights in my hair and makeup on my face, the expensive shoes and fancy clothes and diamond earrings that couldn't keep me safe, couldn't keep the wolf from my door.
"I want a house with hardwood floors," I said, and I don't want anyone else to come inside."
He was touching my hair, saying something. "Cannie," he repeated.
I opened my eyes.
"It doesn't have to be that way."
And I agree with Dr. K: it doesn't have to be that way. Love can be found in many ways, can be found in the everyday, in other beings, such as:
1. good music (be it pop, opera, new age...)
2. organic, (no-preservatives/HFCS/hydrogenated fats) crunchy peanut/soy nut butter and tahini
3. practicing yoga
4. companion animals
5. (early) morning stillness
6. almond essence and cinnamon--the taste and smell of both!
7. blogging and contemplating
8. naps
9. the scent of rain hitting the earth
10. the sound and feel of palms swaying in the breeze
11. the feel and sound of crunchy leaves
12. chili and ginger--the latter especially beneficial to the body
13. finding vibrant colored clothes of good material and fit
14. chamomile, chai (cinnamon with cloves), peppermint and/or rooibos tea
15. tofu and soymilk!
16. edible mushrooms
17. singing/dancing whenever I feel like it
18. sago
19. good books, of whatever genre
20. the sea breeze on my face and grainy sand on my toes
Love is going to the cemetery with my grandma to visit her parents, lighting the candles under the bench because the wind is all around us,
then finding the most ginormous pile of dead, crunchy (oh joy!) leaves, right there to jump into and stomp around in, and
love can be twisted enough to find Aunt Flo visiting on Valentine's Day. A red day, indeed.
Love manifests itself in many ways. It is in us, around us. The above excerpt really just made me ache for Cannie, so much so that even as it ended on a note of hope, I still felt so torn up and maudlin and angsty. It made me think of the past, my past, my regrets, the could-haves and would-haves...but weirdly, I didn't see D there at all. That was a shock. I have no idea what that means, though N may be right in that D was my "token" for my yearning for my past, where it's safe and familiar, where choices don't have to be made yet. But again, the past can stifle. After all, love is also about taking that leap of faith--trusting in myself, in the cosmos, that all will be well.
And indeed, I have taken that leap--for yoga, for myself, for my fragile future. And if I fall short, well, love gives us strength enough to get up and take another leap, another path somewhere else.
But of course, I hope there is enough love, enough faith, to make me reach my goal, reach that outlying star. As the song goes, "if I open my heart again, I guess I'm hoping you'll be there for me in the end."
Indeed, indeed.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Extraordinary from the Ordinary
It came from something as simple as printing forms. Seriously. Thing is, previously, I would not have even dreamt of printing them out--12 full-colored pages, plus some black and whites, some with a background, some without--26 pages all in all, give or take. I had previously been worrying from what Internet café I could print them, and how much they would cost, but yesterday, I don't know what possessed me to just take that leap, to hell with what happens, but to just do it.
I crossed my fingers, but at the same time was ready to print the rest at an Internet café in case the printer ran out of ink, as prior to printing, it had already been flashing the notice "Black Ink Low; Color Ink Low" (hence the dilemma). But wonder of wonders, all forms printed safely. As mundane as this sounds, it kinda told me not to fear but to step forward and take that leap. This is kinda reminiscent of what my friend N told me when I griped to her about failing: "So what if you fail? It's a part of life; you just pick yourself up and do something else." And indeed, my whole life is riddled with gripes on what-ifs; now to let go of that and fully commit in the present moment. Whatever fears I have, let them go. If I fail, I can always get back up again. I should remember this.
Speaking of my friend N, in one of our recent conversations, we talked about *the past*, and last Sunday, I saw this article. In relation to the gospel last Sunday, where the presiding priest exhorted us to let God speak through us, perhaps this is God's way of telling me to just drop *the past*. Like a hot potato.
If only it were that easyAmen.
I crossed my fingers, but at the same time was ready to print the rest at an Internet café in case the printer ran out of ink, as prior to printing, it had already been flashing the notice "Black Ink Low; Color Ink Low" (hence the dilemma). But wonder of wonders, all forms printed safely. As mundane as this sounds, it kinda told me not to fear but to step forward and take that leap. This is kinda reminiscent of what my friend N told me when I griped to her about failing: "So what if you fail? It's a part of life; you just pick yourself up and do something else." And indeed, my whole life is riddled with gripes on what-ifs; now to let go of that and fully commit in the present moment. Whatever fears I have, let them go. If I fail, I can always get back up again. I should remember this.
Speaking of my friend N, in one of our recent conversations, we talked about *the past*, and last Sunday, I saw this article. In relation to the gospel last Sunday, where the presiding priest exhorted us to let God speak through us, perhaps this is God's way of telling me to just drop *the past*. Like a hot potato.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Yoga + Peanut Butter = Bliss
Hatha yoga isn't just a physically-beneficial exercise; as I've always maintained, it's also a mentally and spiritually calming one, as well.
And there are no diets involved, so I've lately been indulging in a perennial love: peanut butter! When I mention this to Europeans, they seldom are enthusiastic; teacher F had asked us after class to show him "Filipino passion," and my friend S listed shopping and eating, then I turned to F, grinned and said, "I have a passion for peanut butter." And he gave me the oddest look, hahahahah!!! Thinking about it still gives me a smile ;)
There are two kinds: creamy and chunky. I personally prefer chunky. Polls have shown that folks from the East Coast prefer creamy, while those from the West prefer chunky. Also, women and children prefer creamy, while men generally prefer chunky. PLUS! It doesn't necessarily follow that chunky peanut butter is peanut butter ground less; there are actually more peanuts thrown in! See for yourself.
I just had peanut butter, on a banana. Potassium, tryptophan and protein: the best combination. But man, am I stuffed. I think I'll stop now, and practice Dandayamana Janushirasana later as I told teacher F I'd do, whoops, plus Dandayamana Bibhaktapada Paschimottanasana because my hamstrings are tight and I was told I hyperextend.
As the Nike slogan goes, "Just do it." And indeed, as teacher F tells us always, "Don't try; just do it!" similar to what Yoda told young Luke: "Do or do not. There is no try." Indeed.
Now for some inspiration, by Ida Ripley.
And there are no diets involved, so I've lately been indulging in a perennial love: peanut butter! When I mention this to Europeans, they seldom are enthusiastic; teacher F had asked us after class to show him "Filipino passion," and my friend S listed shopping and eating, then I turned to F, grinned and said, "I have a passion for peanut butter." And he gave me the oddest look, hahahahah!!! Thinking about it still gives me a smile ;)
There are two kinds: creamy and chunky. I personally prefer chunky. Polls have shown that folks from the East Coast prefer creamy, while those from the West prefer chunky. Also, women and children prefer creamy, while men generally prefer chunky. PLUS! It doesn't necessarily follow that chunky peanut butter is peanut butter ground less; there are actually more peanuts thrown in! See for yourself.
I just had peanut butter, on a banana. Potassium, tryptophan and protein: the best combination. But man, am I stuffed. I think I'll stop now, and practice Dandayamana Janushirasana later as I told teacher F I'd do, whoops, plus Dandayamana Bibhaktapada Paschimottanasana because my hamstrings are tight and I was told I hyperextend.
As the Nike slogan goes, "Just do it." And indeed, as teacher F tells us always, "Don't try; just do it!" similar to what Yoda told young Luke: "Do or do not. There is no try." Indeed.
Now for some inspiration, by Ida Ripley.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Focus, let go, achieve.
Yesterday saw me in front of Apples Aberin-Sadhwani again, from last Thursday, along with the likes of Rhett Eala, Vivian Velez and Vicki Belo. It was her [Apples'] first time to practice Bikram yoga last Thursday, and I still remember first finding out I was to be in front of her, then feeling horrified, intimidated, envious, apprehensive, and generally uncomfortable. I usually feel this way with celebrities--I dunno, maybe 'coz they're on television, for goodness' sake, hence usually with perfect bodies, and gorgeously fake faces. And being in front of Apples, being her "guide for the day" as teacher F put it, didn't help any. But I breathed it away--or tried my best to(!), reminding myself to focus on my own practice, that she's human, after all. Well yesterday, she came to class again, and placed herself behind me *again*, telling me "because you're good, eh." Of course I demurred, but still, I was pleased by that compliment. Being a celebrity doesn't make them any less mortal, as it doesn't make us ordinary lay people any less special. And in realizing this, I've come to see they're not so different from you or me. I have to remember that.
As much as I had previously mentioned aparigraha, I would like to relate to this concept again, as well as on a checklist to check consumerism:
-do I have enough money [for it]?
-do I have enough room [for it]?
-do I truly want it?
-do I have time to care for it?
-will I really use it?
Bottom line I guess is, is it truly necessary? I relate this to my fetish with depilatory services. I have a *huge* fascination with hair, especially removing it (though I do not exactly relish removing my Mom's white hair, but that's not the point), and as I am mentally going over things I need to get done before leaving, God -willing, in April, I thought about hair removal--the parts where I have hair removed, and if doing so is truly necessary. And I know it's really vanity more than anything else. Time for aparigraha to come in.
Maybe it's nearing my time of the month, or whatever, but I have also been, just barely, resisting the urge to snap at our driver--for his lack of knowledge of the lay of the metropolis, his laziness, his heavy foot on the clutch, his smart-aleck replies, and so on. Still, having violent thoughts is still promoting violence. I need to let go, relax, practice ahimsa, for really: violence is needless and spawns more of it, so why continue the cycle?
Again, I have much to learn. Namaste.
As much as I had previously mentioned aparigraha, I would like to relate to this concept again, as well as on a checklist to check consumerism:
-do I have enough money [for it]?
-do I have enough room [for it]?
-do I truly want it?
-do I have time to care for it?
-will I really use it?
Bottom line I guess is, is it truly necessary? I relate this to my fetish with depilatory services. I have a *huge* fascination with hair, especially removing it (though I do not exactly relish removing my Mom's white hair, but that's not the point), and as I am mentally going over things I need to get done before leaving, God -willing, in April, I thought about hair removal--the parts where I have hair removed, and if doing so is truly necessary. And I know it's really vanity more than anything else. Time for aparigraha to come in.
Maybe it's nearing my time of the month, or whatever, but I have also been, just barely, resisting the urge to snap at our driver--for his lack of knowledge of the lay of the metropolis, his laziness, his heavy foot on the clutch, his smart-aleck replies, and so on. Still, having violent thoughts is still promoting violence. I need to let go, relax, practice ahimsa, for really: violence is needless and spawns more of it, so why continue the cycle?
Again, I have much to learn. Namaste.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Be Yoga. Do Yoga.
...when she [Tara Guber] asked a public elementary school in Aspen, Colo., to teach yoga in 2002, Christian fundamentalists and even some secular parents lobbied the school board. They argued that yoga's Hindu roots conflicted with Christian teachings and that using it in school might violate the separation of church and state...
Outrageously arcane? Surprisingly true. See the full article here.
***************
It's day 16 of my 30-day challenge, and I think I'm going strong. Trying to do the poses as best as I can, taking criticism as positively as possible, too--and I'm told I'm improving (if I look really hard at certain angles, and fine, stretch my spine and suck my stomach in, my ribs peek out), so woot! :) Now to improve some more. One thing that plagues me, though, is whether using lotion impedes my practice or not. Ah crap. I have yet to find out.
This is building up for April. So I've been scouting for places to stay in, with Craigslist and Mapquest. Plus I don't even know what to do or where to go in LA, though I'd love to learn. As of now, however, I'm still unsure of how to proceed, let alone if I even get accepted, but I'm hoping to hurdle that when I get there.
I've recently been jonesing for something sweet, and I must admit I was thinking of a chilled, sweet tea in the middle of yoga class today, eek (Chitta Vritti begone!). I finished my beloved agave nectar awhile back, but we have maple syrup, so that'll do: Hello, hips and tummy. Despite this, I've been told I've lost weight, and been subsequently asked if I diet, but as can be seen, I obviously don't! As my grandma said, "You do eat a lot--just all vegetables."But seriously, what's so deprived about maple syrup, bananas, peanut butter, especially from this store???? They're all scrumptiously vegan. Oh, and don't forget potable water. Thank God for that.
I've also recently been buying stuff--Kathy Phillips' book, the Jivamukti bible, Michael Ende's famous book, even a Lululemon Power Y top (on sale!) in a lustrous red-violet shade and my first Shiva Rea DVD (still looking for her music, though), among other things. A lot of stores have been going on sale, so it's so fun to go around, but at the end of the day, I sadly ask myself if I really needed to buy, period (hello, aparigraha?). However, I know I was told that a decision should be stuck to, so I try to do that, anyway. Besides, I think I made wise purchases (and I really love that Power Y top, anyhow!), but still...it's money! Ack. Plus my cousin's been pushing to go to Hong Kong. I think if I'm firm I can continue practicing Bikram yoga, plus I want to check out a store there, but still: $$$. Accccck.
Yesterday, among the stuff Mom and Dad gave me was a Celine top (and a gorgeous vegan denim Braccialini bag!, which is obviously not an issue). But it was cream/buttermilk-colored. And I hate that color as I just find it too...off-white, and revealing, but in the wrong places. At first I didn't like the top, and told Mom so, but after some thought, I realized it's a lesson in opening myself to new experiences, in this case, to dispel my prejudices about certain colors. I confess to still having a difficult time about it, but as my good friend N put it, "You have to open yourself up to new possibilities, otherwise, you will stagnate, and you don't want that, do you?" Indeed I don't, hence I will try not to. I am now wearing the aforementioned top, and finding it's not so bad.
I still have much to learn, and surprise, it's okay.
Note to self: Now stop editing, dammit.
Outrageously arcane? Surprisingly true. See the full article here.
***************
It's day 16 of my 30-day challenge, and I think I'm going strong. Trying to do the poses as best as I can, taking criticism as positively as possible, too--and I'm told I'm improving (if I look really hard at certain angles, and fine, stretch my spine and suck my stomach in, my ribs peek out), so woot! :) Now to improve some more. One thing that plagues me, though, is whether using lotion impedes my practice or not. Ah crap. I have yet to find out.
This is building up for April. So I've been scouting for places to stay in, with Craigslist and Mapquest. Plus I don't even know what to do or where to go in LA, though I'd love to learn. As of now, however, I'm still unsure of how to proceed, let alone if I even get accepted, but I'm hoping to hurdle that when I get there.
I've recently been jonesing for something sweet, and I must admit I was thinking of a chilled, sweet tea in the middle of yoga class today, eek (Chitta Vritti begone!). I finished my beloved agave nectar awhile back, but we have maple syrup, so that'll do: Hello, hips and tummy. Despite this, I've been told I've lost weight, and been subsequently asked if I diet, but as can be seen, I obviously don't! As my grandma said, "You do eat a lot--just all vegetables."But seriously, what's so deprived about maple syrup, bananas, peanut butter, especially from this store???? They're all scrumptiously vegan. Oh, and don't forget potable water. Thank God for that.
I've also recently been buying stuff--Kathy Phillips' book, the Jivamukti bible, Michael Ende's famous book, even a Lululemon Power Y top (on sale!) in a lustrous red-violet shade and my first Shiva Rea DVD (still looking for her music, though), among other things. A lot of stores have been going on sale, so it's so fun to go around, but at the end of the day, I sadly ask myself if I really needed to buy, period (hello, aparigraha?). However, I know I was told that a decision should be stuck to, so I try to do that, anyway. Besides, I think I made wise purchases (and I really love that Power Y top, anyhow!), but still...it's money! Ack. Plus my cousin's been pushing to go to Hong Kong. I think if I'm firm I can continue practicing Bikram yoga, plus I want to check out a store there, but still: $$$. Accccck.
Yesterday, among the stuff Mom and Dad gave me was a Celine top (and a gorgeous vegan denim Braccialini bag!, which is obviously not an issue). But it was cream/buttermilk-colored. And I hate that color as I just find it too...off-white, and revealing, but in the wrong places. At first I didn't like the top, and told Mom so, but after some thought, I realized it's a lesson in opening myself to new experiences, in this case, to dispel my prejudices about certain colors. I confess to still having a difficult time about it, but as my good friend N put it, "You have to open yourself up to new possibilities, otherwise, you will stagnate, and you don't want that, do you?" Indeed I don't, hence I will try not to. I am now wearing the aforementioned top, and finding it's not so bad.
I still have much to learn, and surprise, it's okay.
Note to self: Now stop editing, dammit.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Namaste
Oooh: Isa was featured in the NYT! Coolness. I have both her cookbooks now--I just found her cupcake book while browsing at a Fully Booked, woot!
Was thinking about [taking] different yoga teachers again. And it's not like I like one over the other, though being human, I must confess I sometimes do, and that even the term "favorite" can be switched back and forth over time ('coz I'm fickle that way). But whoever teacher, each one has something to offer, some grain of wisdom to impart to me. And I realize that I should always, always be grateful.
Lately, I had lunch with one of my teachers, H, at this quaint cafe, and I was mentioning balking over using just a sports bra or something similar instead of a full cami/tank because of my tummy, and she reminded me that "Yoga is about letting go." Ack. But really, maybe I should.
Being in Muhkatee, I've slowly been catching up with people from this neck of the concrete jungle. And I'm glad.
In any case, some advice I found useful from YJ:
Before buying:
Do I have enough money [for it]?
Do I have enough room [for it]?
Do I *really* want it?
Do I have time to care for it?
Will I really use/wear it?
Before saying anything:
Is it TRUE?
Is it NECESSARY?
Is it KIND? (Well maybe this is optional, haha)
On gratitude*:
What have I received today?
What have I given today?
What difficulties and troubles did I cause today?
*This hinges on interconnectedness: how we are all connected to everything, and how we are dependent on Mother Earth for most everything: the sun, air, soil type and general climate that it took to produce our food, or the plants that took to feed the livestock, the vehicles that brought our food to the markets, the water and detergent it takes to wash our clothes and the weather that dries them, the circumstances of our birth....and this can go on and on.
Namaste.
Was thinking about [taking] different yoga teachers again. And it's not like I like one over the other, though being human, I must confess I sometimes do, and that even the term "favorite" can be switched back and forth over time ('coz I'm fickle that way). But whoever teacher, each one has something to offer, some grain of wisdom to impart to me. And I realize that I should always, always be grateful.
Lately, I had lunch with one of my teachers, H, at this quaint cafe, and I was mentioning balking over using just a sports bra or something similar instead of a full cami/tank because of my tummy, and she reminded me that "Yoga is about letting go." Ack. But really, maybe I should.
Being in Muhkatee, I've slowly been catching up with people from this neck of the concrete jungle. And I'm glad.
In any case, some advice I found useful from YJ:
Before buying:
Do I have enough money [for it]?
Do I have enough room [for it]?
Do I *really* want it?
Do I have time to care for it?
Will I really use/wear it?
Before saying anything:
Is it TRUE?
Is it NECESSARY?
Is it KIND? (Well maybe this is optional, haha)
On gratitude*:
What have I received today?
What have I given today?
What difficulties and troubles did I cause today?
*This hinges on interconnectedness: how we are all connected to everything, and how we are dependent on Mother Earth for most everything: the sun, air, soil type and general climate that it took to produce our food, or the plants that took to feed the livestock, the vehicles that brought our food to the markets, the water and detergent it takes to wash our clothes and the weather that dries them, the circumstances of our birth....and this can go on and on.
Namaste.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Bits and Pieces
What I was told reverberated in my mind like a gong's deep knell. Seriously.
If I recall correctly, I was told, "You can't make a breadcrumb trail from one trail to the next forever; after a while, those crumbs will get mixed up, and then where will you be? Of course there are infinite possibilities, endless what-ifs, but take one path, and stick to it. Decide. To decide means to slay, so slay all other possibilities and forge on; enjoy that path. If it doesn't pan out, so what? Failure is part of growing up: it's part of the learning process. You get up and move on: with no breadcrumb trail."
In relation to this, I was told to "trust in others, open yourself up to new possibilities. How can you expect others to open up to you when you won't open up to them? As Baz Luhrmann said in his song, Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen), 'Do one thing everyday that scares you.'"
This whole enterprise itself is scary: leave stuff behind; no excess baggage being lugged around! And I have to trust in people more. Tall order: 2-in-1. But hey, there should never be stasis; we should always be pushing, changing for the better.
If I recall correctly, I was told, "You can't make a breadcrumb trail from one trail to the next forever; after a while, those crumbs will get mixed up, and then where will you be? Of course there are infinite possibilities, endless what-ifs, but take one path, and stick to it. Decide. To decide means to slay, so slay all other possibilities and forge on; enjoy that path. If it doesn't pan out, so what? Failure is part of growing up: it's part of the learning process. You get up and move on: with no breadcrumb trail."
In relation to this, I was told to "trust in others, open yourself up to new possibilities. How can you expect others to open up to you when you won't open up to them? As Baz Luhrmann said in his song, Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen), 'Do one thing everyday that scares you.'"
This whole enterprise itself is scary: leave stuff behind; no excess baggage being lugged around! And I have to trust in people more. Tall order: 2-in-1. But hey, there should never be stasis; we should always be pushing, changing for the better.
Consumer I Am
Eeek. I succumbed to Adidas' Test Run 28's Adistar Control (men's style as my feet are long), then Carol Adams' book, too.
Since Aura's holding a sale 'til tomorrow, I got Tension's clothing, of course Lululemon's, and a Yogitoes towel, though I'm keen on a Manduka mat and Lumi towel, as well as this bra, this, and this tank too. Seriously, though, I'd have been a fool not to make use of the sale, especially as I constantly need good bottoms more than tops, hands down anytime, especially for April.
I then finished with the next month's issue of Yoga Journal. A session of yoga today with a workshop after, then a rare splurge after: Life is good, thank God.
Since Aura's holding a sale 'til tomorrow, I got Tension's clothing, of course Lululemon's, and a Yogitoes towel, though I'm keen on a Manduka mat and Lumi towel, as well as this bra, this, and this tank too. Seriously, though, I'd have been a fool not to make use of the sale, especially as I constantly need good bottoms more than tops, hands down anytime, especially for April.
I then finished with the next month's issue of Yoga Journal. A session of yoga today with a workshop after, then a rare splurge after: Life is good, thank God.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Another Day
Staying home can do wonders: I fixed more of my stuff, arranged my shirts by color, wrote people I promised to write to, and am finally finishing "Yoga School Dropout," finally to move on to "Autobiography of a Yogi."
*******************************
I wonder if they're vegan? In any case, it gives me yet another excuse to visit NYC. But while in California, why not visit one of her own wonders? But man, if I could return to India, I'd like to enter an Ayurvedic treatment. Ah well.
Then care of Eric Prescott, this article states: "Leading aquariums and swim-with-dolphin dealers are subsidising the Japan dolphin slaughter by paying £25,000 or more for a few 'show' dolphins from the catch," said Ric O'Barry, a former US Navy diver who trained the dolphin star of the 1960s television series before turning against dolphin captivity in 1970....
A report released last year by the Whale and Dolphin Conservation Society reveals that dozens of dolphins captured in Japan's annual "drive fisheries" - and then spared - have ended up in aquariums around the world.
Figures. So stop supporting marine parks, or animal cage facilities already! Why not watch Cirque du Soleil, instead, or go to a botanical garden and smell the flowers; let love well up.
Namaste.
*******************************
I wonder if they're vegan? In any case, it gives me yet another excuse to visit NYC. But while in California, why not visit one of her own wonders? But man, if I could return to India, I'd like to enter an Ayurvedic treatment. Ah well.
Then care of Eric Prescott, this article states: "Leading aquariums and swim-with-dolphin dealers are subsidising the Japan dolphin slaughter by paying £25,000 or more for a few 'show' dolphins from the catch," said Ric O'Barry, a former US Navy diver who trained the dolphin star of the 1960s television series before turning against dolphin captivity in 1970....
A report released last year by the Whale and Dolphin Conservation Society reveals that dozens of dolphins captured in Japan's annual "drive fisheries" - and then spared - have ended up in aquariums around the world.
Figures. So stop supporting marine parks, or animal cage facilities already! Why not watch Cirque du Soleil, instead, or go to a botanical garden and smell the flowers; let love well up.
Namaste.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Beware the PMS'ing Virago
It truly boggles my mind that people who are closest to me are also those who can hurt me hardest. I think it has to do with that inner circle I let them into--my "inner sanctum" where I can express myself freely, take them into that confidence. And armed with that, they can do anything to trip me up and wound me, I guess. So yeah, I think it's all about TRUST. Of course, it doesn't help when it's nearing "that time of the month," when even the tiniest gecko can become a hissing, biting, fire-breathing dragon. It is in such times that I don't understand how I can get so snappish, and mean, and impatient, and VULNERABLE. But there you go, and here I am. Despite my usual peaceful mien, there is still that yappy little bitch that occasionally comes out to bite, or at best needs space to be left alone awhile until she reverts back to Pup Placid, lest she bites something too big that she can't remedy later. So in the threatening-to-erupt tempest in a teapot, I try to go back to pranayama, to take deep breaths and release them: always.release.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Thinking, as usual.
I'm proud of what I've accomplished: I cleared my Santa Fe cabinet, my night table's drawers, and two rows of shelves....and I found my gold chain that I've been missing since New Year's Eve (from my Dad's mum), as well as filled up all the darn raffle stubs! Woot! Go, me! Next--to sort the pictures I found, go down memory lane while I'm at it.
I finally went to my ENT. Ugh, sinusitis and middle ear infection, congested nasal passageways and irritated eustachean tube from the darn construction next door going on since frickin' OCTOBER. (Maybe that's why I've been having difficulties with balance lately, getting dizzy so easily, too. Now I've been prescribed with a heady cocktail of antibiotics and steroids. Whoop-de-doo. Who am I kidding: I hate having to take drugs.) They said they'd finish by December, but now they push it to March. What the heck. So we have to suffer--from the dust, and the rats and roaches. Eeeeew. Because of them, I...had to....kill a *gulp* roach. Eeeeeeek. I hated it: gave me the willies and the heebiejeebies. Oh and the way it splatted sickly against my slipper? Holy hell. I washed my legs, my neck, my hands, my arms, the inside of my elbows. Oh grossgrossgrossGROSS. (NOT VEGAN!) Of course, the slipper had to be scrubbed to high heavens. Then one of our helpers killed this humongous rat today. Eeeeeek.So please God, let them be finished SOON.
This much time on my hands gives me ample rest, but also ample time to endlessly loop thoughts--some useless and irrational. Yet another of the kind is bothering me yet again. To contact or not to contact? That is the question. I've been missing D again--not as bad, but still there, wondering how D is, etc. I admit I still fantasize a bit if we were together, but heck, practicality comes crashing in and the worrywart part of me acknowledges it would be a very difficult road to take--my parents potentially disowning me, and having to prove myself time and again in the workforce, having no one else to really provide for me, no secure, legal future with D, no medical benefits, etc. So that part of me tells me to run like hell in the opposite direction....but I still miss D and would like to be friends again. I just worry D might want more, again...and if I do, too.
I've also been trying to rekindle old relationships--those I set aside, forgetting how much I treasured them. Perhaps there are second chances; perhaps it's still not too late.
With the time on my hands, which my folks will hopefully not harass me about, I'm hoping to be strong enough to fly away soon--and be accepted with no trouble. oh Lord, please may it be. As F says, "Teh-REE-sa! You have to be stuh-RONG!" Indeed. Hope against hope, I must.
I finally went to my ENT. Ugh, sinusitis and middle ear infection, congested nasal passageways and irritated eustachean tube from the darn construction next door going on since frickin' OCTOBER. (Maybe that's why I've been having difficulties with balance lately, getting dizzy so easily, too. Now I've been prescribed with a heady cocktail of antibiotics and steroids. Whoop-de-doo. Who am I kidding: I hate having to take drugs.) They said they'd finish by December, but now they push it to March. What the heck. So we have to suffer--from the dust, and the rats and roaches. Eeeeew. Because of them, I...had to....kill a *gulp* roach. Eeeeeeek. I hated it: gave me the willies and the heebiejeebies. Oh and the way it splatted sickly against my slipper? Holy hell. I washed my legs, my neck, my hands, my arms, the inside of my elbows. Oh grossgrossgrossGROSS. (NOT VEGAN!) Of course, the slipper had to be scrubbed to high heavens. Then one of our helpers killed this humongous rat today. Eeeeeek.So please God, let them be finished SOON.
This much time on my hands gives me ample rest, but also ample time to endlessly loop thoughts--some useless and irrational. Yet another of the kind is bothering me yet again. To contact or not to contact? That is the question. I've been missing D again--not as bad, but still there, wondering how D is, etc. I admit I still fantasize a bit if we were together, but heck, practicality comes crashing in and the worrywart part of me acknowledges it would be a very difficult road to take--my parents potentially disowning me, and having to prove myself time and again in the workforce, having no one else to really provide for me, no secure, legal future with D, no medical benefits, etc. So that part of me tells me to run like hell in the opposite direction....but I still miss D and would like to be friends again. I just worry D might want more, again...and if I do, too.
I've also been trying to rekindle old relationships--those I set aside, forgetting how much I treasured them. Perhaps there are second chances; perhaps it's still not too late.
With the time on my hands, which my folks will hopefully not harass me about, I'm hoping to be strong enough to fly away soon--and be accepted with no trouble. oh Lord, please may it be. As F says, "Teh-REE-sa! You have to be stuh-RONG!" Indeed. Hope against hope, I must.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Clearing the Past for the Present
Good grief; my head hurts.
I'm sleepy and hungry: I've been clearing years of correspondence--keeping what I still want, junking/giving away what I no longer desire (which is a considerable amount, because after a while, I realize that I no longer need as much, which incidentally, others can use more) I've also started to reach out to people I've neglected in the past--people who were so important before. I guess I got messed up, or at least my priorities changed. Well now I'm trying to make up, and see if it'll work, if even a little.
In any case, I'm not yet done. But at the same time, I also have to stay in the present, or try to. As much as contemplation--and solitude--are great, too much of it'll alienate others.
Time to plunge back and make room for present tasks and future dreams--but still keep enough to cherish.
I'm sleepy and hungry: I've been clearing years of correspondence--keeping what I still want, junking/giving away what I no longer desire (which is a considerable amount, because after a while, I realize that I no longer need as much, which incidentally, others can use more) I've also started to reach out to people I've neglected in the past--people who were so important before. I guess I got messed up, or at least my priorities changed. Well now I'm trying to make up, and see if it'll work, if even a little.
In any case, I'm not yet done. But at the same time, I also have to stay in the present, or try to. As much as contemplation--and solitude--are great, too much of it'll alienate others.
Time to plunge back and make room for present tasks and future dreams--but still keep enough to cherish.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Timeless Advice
Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen) by Baz Luhrman
Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of '97... wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be IT.
The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.
I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.
You are NOT as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium.
Be kind to your knees, you'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't, maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't, maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself, either. Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's. Enjoy your body, use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance. Even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.
CHORUS: Brother and sister together we'll make it through; someday a spirit will take you and guide you there; I know you've been hurting, but I've been waiting to be there for you, and I'll be there just helping you out whenever I can
Get to know your parents, you never know when they'll be gone for good.
Be nice to your siblings; they are your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography in lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you'll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.
CHORUS: Brother and sister together we'll make it through (oh yeah); someday a spirit will take you and guide you there; I know you've been hurting, but I've been waiting to be there for you, and I'll be there just helping you out whenever I can; everybody sing, oh yeah; everybody (oh yeah), don't you feel it?
Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of '97... wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be IT.
The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.
I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.
You are NOT as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium.
Be kind to your knees, you'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't, maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't, maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself, either. Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's. Enjoy your body, use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance. Even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.
CHORUS: Brother and sister together we'll make it through; someday a spirit will take you and guide you there; I know you've been hurting, but I've been waiting to be there for you, and I'll be there just helping you out whenever I can
Get to know your parents, you never know when they'll be gone for good.
Be nice to your siblings; they are your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography in lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you'll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.
CHORUS: Brother and sister together we'll make it through (oh yeah); someday a spirit will take you and guide you there; I know you've been hurting, but I've been waiting to be there for you, and I'll be there just helping you out whenever I can; everybody sing, oh yeah; everybody (oh yeah), don't you feel it?
Friday, January 05, 2007
In A Dog's Life
I took this picture; back then he was pretty mangy-looking. But the look on his face was pure ecstasy: he was frolicking in the sea, uncollared and could run free as the wind. I sometimes envy him--his freedom from responsibilities and expectations. Because I have been given so much, I am also expected of so much. So sometimes, I wish I weren't. But then life would be so different, so the question here lies if whether I'd still have the same questions? Or am I just scared and running away, afraid to make a choice? Thing is, choices become decisions which have effects and consequences. And my fears are that someone will get harmed, or that I will fail, and that they will all be irrevocable. Then again, I can't stay in limbo forever; that in itself is a decision, and in my case, would probably be a lame, half-baked one. The doggie made a choice, in his own way: he decided to have to run for shelter, scavenge or beg for scraps, let any illnesses go untreated, but his life is his own. Perhaps I should make a choice, too, and soon.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
A Much-Delayed New Year's Post
The Taiwan quake is really putting a damper on people’s Internet connections, methinks. Aside from that, I've been having serious allergic reactions, as well, so it's been difficult to do anything besides trying to get my strength back. (Key antidotes: water, vitamin c, and menthol oil) In any case, I hope everyone has had as good a holiday as they could have had.
One of feng shui’s premises is the adage “out with the old” to be able to “enter the new.” Having gotten a bit better, and it being the start of a new year, I have been doing just that. Books on the shelf finally placed in order, more books added to pile for sale; Dino's piece#1, check. Now to do #2, as well as clear more drawers--see if something can be junked or given....but after watching Bleach, ehe: I'm a new convert: currently on Episode #45, but stopped, as I have nothing to go after! So as I told my friend R, I've been "cheating".
There's a debate whether tempeh is an "omnisub" or not. Honestly, I still am not sure, so I checked out how to make it. I'm too lazy at this point, though. But after tasting mock tuna in a sandwich on the way to Penang from Singapore...I'm wondering if that's what it is. If so, I have to admit it tastes quite good--not as oily as tofu, and beanier.
But anyway, we stayed at what is fondly called by locals as "The Blue Mansion", a restored old Chinese mansion. If what you like is something more standard, however, perhaps The Eastern and Oriental, or "E&O" Hotel, built by the makers of Singapore's Raffles Hotel,would be more to your liking, though I believe Bayview Penang is more reasonably-priced, as well as this other hotel along Leith Street, called Cathay Hotel...in any case, I'm hoping to at least go back for some Indian music, whether it be classical, Bollywood, or Bhangra, or whatever else.
For indeed, Penang is a melting pot of cultures (well, in George Town, anyway), as reflected from the street-neighborhoods: Indian, Hokkien Chinese, Malay, Nonya or Malay-Chinese, Tamil, and so on. It's relatively safe, and the island is small enough to go around by foot, relatively: I want to go back. Maybe sometime soon: Dad liked it, too (for the salted fish!), so a return might be likely. Maybe a 2nd trip to India first, but this time to Southern India (Goa, Kerala, Pondicherry, though Kochi looks like a nice stopover) instead of the North (the so-called Golden Triangle--Agra, New Delhi, and Jaipur) where I also hear yoga is taught best (Mysore, anyone?) though aside from Bikram yoga, I am still confused as to what other yoga to take (though I'm already contemplating taking some classes here), let alone if this indeed is the path I aim to take in life; we shall see.
But as to that, for now, I'm still hoping I can follow that dream.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
News Bites
Have you ever wondered why Coke comes with a smile? It’s because it gets you high. They took the cocaine out almost a hundred years ago. You know why? It was redundant.
* In The First 10 minutes: 10 teaspoons of sugar hit your system. (100% of your recommended daily intake.) You don’t immediately vomit from the overwhelming sweetness because phosphoric acid cuts the flavor allowing you to keep it down.
* 20 minutes: Your blood sugar spikes, causing an insulin burst. Your liver responds to this by turning any sugar it can get its hands on into fat. (There’s plenty of that at this particular moment)
* 40 minutes: Caffeine absorption is complete. Your pupils dialate, your blood pressure rises, as a response your livers dumps more sugar into your bloodstream. The adenosine receptors in your brain are now blocked preventing drowsiness.
* 45 minutes: Your body ups your dopamine production stimulating the pleasure centers of your brain. This is physically the same way heroin works, by the way.
* >60 minutes: The phosphoric acid binds calcium, magnesium and zinc in your lower intestine, providing a further boost in metabolism. This is compounded by high doses of sugar and artificial sweeteners also increasing the urinary excretion of calcium.
* >60 Minutes: The caffeine’s diuretic properties come into play. (It makes you have to pee.) It is now assured that you’ll evacuate the bonded calcium, magnesium and zinc that was headed to your bones as well as sodium, electrolyte and water.
* >60 minutes: As the rave inside of you dies down you’ll start to have a sugar crash. You may become irritable and/or sluggish. You’ve also now, literally, pissed away all the water that was in the Coke. But not before infusing it with valuable nutrients your body could have used for things like even having the ability to hydrate your system or build strong bones and teeth.
This will all be followed by a caffeine crash in the next few hours. (As little as two if you’re a smoker.) But, hey, have another Coke, it’ll make you feel better.
*FYI: The Coke itself is not the enemy, here. It’s the dynamic combo of massive sugar doses combined with caffeine and phosphoric acid. Things which are found in almost all soda.
Taken from this site.
********************
And yet another from An Animal-Friendly Life:
Bullfighting's Future in Doubt:
One of the weakest defenses of any form of animal exploitation is that it is a tradition. This includes hunting, animal racing, cockfighting, rodeo, eating meat, you name it.
News out of Spain reminds us that "tradition" is insufficient reason to continue barbaric behavior:
Bullfighting was facing an uncertain future in Spain yesterday with the announcement that the last bullring in Barcelona is to close after failing to draw enough spectators...
*based on this article
*more info on bullfighting here
* In The First 10 minutes: 10 teaspoons of sugar hit your system. (100% of your recommended daily intake.) You don’t immediately vomit from the overwhelming sweetness because phosphoric acid cuts the flavor allowing you to keep it down.
* 20 minutes: Your blood sugar spikes, causing an insulin burst. Your liver responds to this by turning any sugar it can get its hands on into fat. (There’s plenty of that at this particular moment)
* 40 minutes: Caffeine absorption is complete. Your pupils dialate, your blood pressure rises, as a response your livers dumps more sugar into your bloodstream. The adenosine receptors in your brain are now blocked preventing drowsiness.
* 45 minutes: Your body ups your dopamine production stimulating the pleasure centers of your brain. This is physically the same way heroin works, by the way.
* >60 minutes: The phosphoric acid binds calcium, magnesium and zinc in your lower intestine, providing a further boost in metabolism. This is compounded by high doses of sugar and artificial sweeteners also increasing the urinary excretion of calcium.
* >60 Minutes: The caffeine’s diuretic properties come into play. (It makes you have to pee.) It is now assured that you’ll evacuate the bonded calcium, magnesium and zinc that was headed to your bones as well as sodium, electrolyte and water.
* >60 minutes: As the rave inside of you dies down you’ll start to have a sugar crash. You may become irritable and/or sluggish. You’ve also now, literally, pissed away all the water that was in the Coke. But not before infusing it with valuable nutrients your body could have used for things like even having the ability to hydrate your system or build strong bones and teeth.
This will all be followed by a caffeine crash in the next few hours. (As little as two if you’re a smoker.) But, hey, have another Coke, it’ll make you feel better.
*FYI: The Coke itself is not the enemy, here. It’s the dynamic combo of massive sugar doses combined with caffeine and phosphoric acid. Things which are found in almost all soda.
Taken from this site.
********************
And yet another from An Animal-Friendly Life:
Bullfighting's Future in Doubt:
One of the weakest defenses of any form of animal exploitation is that it is a tradition. This includes hunting, animal racing, cockfighting, rodeo, eating meat, you name it.
News out of Spain reminds us that "tradition" is insufficient reason to continue barbaric behavior:
Bullfighting was facing an uncertain future in Spain yesterday with the announcement that the last bullring in Barcelona is to close after failing to draw enough spectators...
*based on this article
*more info on bullfighting here
Thursday, December 14, 2006
The Right Stuff.
Move Over Barbie, This Doll Gets Real About Anatomy
By Courtney E. Martin, Women's eNews
Posted on December 13, 2006, Printed on December 14, 2006
http://www.alternet.org/story/45372/
Amamanta, Spanish for breastfeeding, is a blend of two words that mean love and protection.
It is also the name of a doll family whose members may appeal to holiday shoppers looking beyond the latest Barbie or Bratz doll for a present that's non-hazardous to body image and can also educate about how babies are made, born and nurtured.
Each 16-inch cloth adult Amamanta doll has genitals and pubic hair, and the mother doll features breasts that can be snapped onto the baby doll's mouth to help reinforce the importance of breastfeeding.
"I wish children to be happy and grow with the idea that sexuality is important and is part of our lives," says Margarita Maria Mesa Leal, owner of the company that makes the dolls. Leal hand sews dolls herself, in addition to employing 27 local women in Medellin, Colombia, all of them mothers.
Dolls aren't cheap; an individual can be purchased for $39 or a family for up to $199. Leal didn't go into the particulars of what she pays her workers, but she says these prices allow her to pay a living wage and use only high quality materials.
Doll Explains Pregnancy
Leal, a former industrial designer, began the project in 2001 as an instructional device for her small daughter.
She created a mother doll, complete with a baby in the belly and a vagina, to explain that she was pregnant to her daughter. Though only 3 years old, her daughter took to the concept immediately, requesting a father doll and a sister doll to go with the mother and baby, just like her family. A for-profit, small business was born along with her son.
Leal sold the dolls to various families and small businesses around Colombia, and eventually throughout South America. She also spent much of those early months making dolls for a local orphanage filled with children, many of whom had lost their parents in Medellin, a cauldron of drug cartel-related violence during the 1990s. The dolls were a great tool for educating the children, many of whom did not have basic knowledge of human anatomy or sexuality and some of whom had also been sexually assaulted while on the streets.
Leal soon realized that many of these supposed orphans, in fact, had mothers who were too poor to take care of them. She began employing this population, providing them with just the opportunity they needed to move out of poverty and reclaim their children.
When Raul Morales, a Bronx, N.Y.-based advertising entrepreneur, stumbled upon Leal's table at a doll trade show in 2002, he was immediately taken by the quality and ingenuity of the dolls, but even more by Leal's commitment to the women and children of Colombia. A South American immigrant himself, Leal's work reminded him of home.
Sought by Educators and Families
OneWorld, a small business Morales owns, became the U.S. mail order distributor for the dolls. Their clients include parents, expectant women, doulas, child psychologists, sex educators, hospitals and child advocacy organizations throughout the Americas. He projects that OneWorld, constituted by Morales and two part-time consultants, will make about $25,000 total North American sales in 2006; Leal sells about the same amount to South American clients directly.
From its three original members the Amamanta Family has grown into a sprawling clan of mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandmothers, grandfathers, adolescents and even step-parents representing more than 10 cultures. In addition to Colombian members, the company also makes contemporary U.S., traditional Indian and Japanese dolls.
Leal continues creating new dolls and making changes, sometimes at the suggestion of her customers.
Teresa Benami of Atlanta contacted Morales last December, after her 3-year-old daughter, Cora, made a request while playing with her new family of dolls, which had been a Hanukkah present. "She was worried about the newborn baby being cold and asked for a diaper," Benami said.
"I conveyed to Teresa that her little girl had just has given me a great idea for product innovation," Morales says.
Leal loved the idea and immediately designed a diaper to be included with all of the Amamanta Family doll units, which currently also come with a sling to carry the baby, clothes, a blanket and a brochure designed to guide the educational experience.
Dolls Also May Offend
The dolls, however, are not for everyone.
In fact, as Women's eNews was interviewing Morales, at a coffee shop on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, he pulled out an Amamanta Family of dolls to show the way in which a baby can be "born" from the mother's stomach and then snapped onto a breast to simulate breastfeeding. His demonstration offended a man at a nearby table who angrily asked, "Do you mind?"
Morales was not surprised. "People think these dolls are radical, but isn't it more radical to castrate a part of the human body as if kids will not notice?" he said, referring to conventional dolls, which now often feature breasts, but typically leave out genitalia.
But other people see the dolls as a way to communicate honestly and positively with children about human anatomy. He says recent customers include a health educator who planned to take the dolls to a rural part of Africa, where she was teaching children about AIDS with the challenge of not speaking the local language.
Parents for Megan's Law -- a Stony Brook, N.Y., nonprofit that seeks to prevent child sexual abuse -- recently put in the largest order Amamanta has ever received, hoping to use the dolls to educate children about the difference between appropriate and inappropriate touch.
Courtney E. Martin is a writer, teacher and filmmaker living in Brooklyn. "Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters: The Frightening New Normalcy of Hating Your Body," her first book, which will be published on Simon and Schuster's Free Press in spring of 2007. You can read more about Courtney's work at http://www.courtneyemartin.com.
© 2006 Independent Media Institute. All rights reserved.
View this story online here.
By Courtney E. Martin, Women's eNews
Posted on December 13, 2006, Printed on December 14, 2006
http://www.alternet.org/story/45372/
Amamanta, Spanish for breastfeeding, is a blend of two words that mean love and protection.
It is also the name of a doll family whose members may appeal to holiday shoppers looking beyond the latest Barbie or Bratz doll for a present that's non-hazardous to body image and can also educate about how babies are made, born and nurtured.
Each 16-inch cloth adult Amamanta doll has genitals and pubic hair, and the mother doll features breasts that can be snapped onto the baby doll's mouth to help reinforce the importance of breastfeeding.
"I wish children to be happy and grow with the idea that sexuality is important and is part of our lives," says Margarita Maria Mesa Leal, owner of the company that makes the dolls. Leal hand sews dolls herself, in addition to employing 27 local women in Medellin, Colombia, all of them mothers.
Dolls aren't cheap; an individual can be purchased for $39 or a family for up to $199. Leal didn't go into the particulars of what she pays her workers, but she says these prices allow her to pay a living wage and use only high quality materials.
Doll Explains Pregnancy
Leal, a former industrial designer, began the project in 2001 as an instructional device for her small daughter.
She created a mother doll, complete with a baby in the belly and a vagina, to explain that she was pregnant to her daughter. Though only 3 years old, her daughter took to the concept immediately, requesting a father doll and a sister doll to go with the mother and baby, just like her family. A for-profit, small business was born along with her son.
Leal sold the dolls to various families and small businesses around Colombia, and eventually throughout South America. She also spent much of those early months making dolls for a local orphanage filled with children, many of whom had lost their parents in Medellin, a cauldron of drug cartel-related violence during the 1990s. The dolls were a great tool for educating the children, many of whom did not have basic knowledge of human anatomy or sexuality and some of whom had also been sexually assaulted while on the streets.
Leal soon realized that many of these supposed orphans, in fact, had mothers who were too poor to take care of them. She began employing this population, providing them with just the opportunity they needed to move out of poverty and reclaim their children.
When Raul Morales, a Bronx, N.Y.-based advertising entrepreneur, stumbled upon Leal's table at a doll trade show in 2002, he was immediately taken by the quality and ingenuity of the dolls, but even more by Leal's commitment to the women and children of Colombia. A South American immigrant himself, Leal's work reminded him of home.
Sought by Educators and Families
OneWorld, a small business Morales owns, became the U.S. mail order distributor for the dolls. Their clients include parents, expectant women, doulas, child psychologists, sex educators, hospitals and child advocacy organizations throughout the Americas. He projects that OneWorld, constituted by Morales and two part-time consultants, will make about $25,000 total North American sales in 2006; Leal sells about the same amount to South American clients directly.
From its three original members the Amamanta Family has grown into a sprawling clan of mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandmothers, grandfathers, adolescents and even step-parents representing more than 10 cultures. In addition to Colombian members, the company also makes contemporary U.S., traditional Indian and Japanese dolls.
Leal continues creating new dolls and making changes, sometimes at the suggestion of her customers.
Teresa Benami of Atlanta contacted Morales last December, after her 3-year-old daughter, Cora, made a request while playing with her new family of dolls, which had been a Hanukkah present. "She was worried about the newborn baby being cold and asked for a diaper," Benami said.
"I conveyed to Teresa that her little girl had just has given me a great idea for product innovation," Morales says.
Leal loved the idea and immediately designed a diaper to be included with all of the Amamanta Family doll units, which currently also come with a sling to carry the baby, clothes, a blanket and a brochure designed to guide the educational experience.
Dolls Also May Offend
The dolls, however, are not for everyone.
In fact, as Women's eNews was interviewing Morales, at a coffee shop on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, he pulled out an Amamanta Family of dolls to show the way in which a baby can be "born" from the mother's stomach and then snapped onto a breast to simulate breastfeeding. His demonstration offended a man at a nearby table who angrily asked, "Do you mind?"
Morales was not surprised. "People think these dolls are radical, but isn't it more radical to castrate a part of the human body as if kids will not notice?" he said, referring to conventional dolls, which now often feature breasts, but typically leave out genitalia.
But other people see the dolls as a way to communicate honestly and positively with children about human anatomy. He says recent customers include a health educator who planned to take the dolls to a rural part of Africa, where she was teaching children about AIDS with the challenge of not speaking the local language.
Parents for Megan's Law -- a Stony Brook, N.Y., nonprofit that seeks to prevent child sexual abuse -- recently put in the largest order Amamanta has ever received, hoping to use the dolls to educate children about the difference between appropriate and inappropriate touch.
Courtney E. Martin is a writer, teacher and filmmaker living in Brooklyn. "Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters: The Frightening New Normalcy of Hating Your Body," her first book, which will be published on Simon and Schuster's Free Press in spring of 2007. You can read more about Courtney's work at http://www.courtneyemartin.com.
© 2006 Independent Media Institute. All rights reserved.
View this story online here.
Monday, December 11, 2006
A Very Quotable Book
After hearing people rave on and on about it, I finally succumbed to reading The Time Traveler's Wife, and I hate to admit it, but it was a good tale. Afterwards, I immediately looked for Iggy Pop's Lust for Life and Prince's 1999. As for the latter, I prefer Purple Rain, whoops!
After being on the Vegan Freak forums for a while now, I have looked up Alkaline Trio and Propagandhi, as well.
WHOA me: what year am I in, anyway? But there you go.
Now I think it is time to get a copy of Possession; pun not intended!
I also dreamt of Sir Danny. Hmm. Mayhap I should ask how he is.
Anyway.
I shall end with a quote from Niffenegger's work. It's pp. 518-521 on my copy, and it is Henry's letter to Clare in the event of post-mortem:
A Letter to Be Opened in the Event of My Death
December 10, 2006
Dearest Clare,
As I write this, I am sitting at my desk in the back bedroom looking out at your studio across the backyard full of blue evening snow, and everything is slick and crusty with ice, and it is very still. It's one of those winter evenings when the coldness of every single thing seems to slow down time, like the narrow center of an hourglass which time itself flows through, but slowly, slowly. I have the feeling, very familiar to me when I am out of time but almost never otherwise, of being buoyed up by time, floating effortlessly on its surface like a fat lady swimmer. I had a sudden urge, tonight, here in the house by myself (you are at Alicia's recital at St. Lucy's) to write you a letter. I suddenly wanted to leave something, for after. I think that time is short, now. I feel as though all my reserves, of energy, of pleasure, of duration, are thin, small. I don't feel capable of continuing very much longer. I know you know.
If you are reading this, I am probably dead. (I say probably because you never know what circumstances may arise; it seems foolish and self-important to just declare one's own death as an out-and-out fact.) About this death of mine--I hope it was simple and clean and unambiguous. I hope it didn't create too much fuss. I'm sorry. (This reads like a suicide note. Strange.) But you know: you know that if I could have stayed, if I could have gone on, that I would have clutched every second: whatever it was, this death, you know that it came and took me, like a child carried away by goblins.
Clare, I want to tell you again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you.
I hate to think of you waiting. I know that you have been waiting for me all your life, always uncertain of how long this patch of waiting would be. Ten minutes, ten days. A month. What an uncertain husband I have been, Clare, like a sailor, Odysseus alone and buffeted by tall waves, sometime wily and sometimes just a plaything of the gods. Please, Clare. When I am dead. Stop waiting and be free. Of me--put deep inside you and then go out in the world and live. Love the world and yourself in it, move through it as though it offers no resistance, as though the world is your natural element. I have given you a life of suspended animation. I don't mean to say that you have done nothing. You have created beauty, and meaning, in your art, and Alba, who is amazing, and for me: for me you have been everything.
After my mom died she ate my father up completely. She would have hated it. Every minute of his life since then has been marked by her absence, every action has lacked dimension because she is not there to measure against. And when I was young I didn't understand, but now, I know, how absence can be present, like a damaged nerve, like a dark bird. If I had to live on without you I know I could not do it. But I hope, I have this vision of you walking unencumbered, with your shining hair in the sun. I have not seen this with my eyes, but only with my imagination, that makes pictures, that always wanted to paint you, shining; but I hope that this vision will be true, anyway.
Clare, there is one last thing, and I have hesitated to tell you, because I'm superstitiously afraid that telling it might cause it not to happen (I know: silly) and also because I have just been going on about not waiting and this might cause you to wait longer than you have ever waited before. But I will tell you in case you need something, after.
Last summer, I was sitting in Kendrick's waiting room when I suddenly found myself in a dark hallway in a house I didn't know. I was sort of tangled up in a bunch of galoshes, and it smelled like rain. At the end of the hall I could see a rim of light around a door, and so I went very slowly and very quietly to the door and looked in. The room was white, and immensely lit with morning sun. At the window, with her back to me, sat a woman, wearing a coral-colored cardigan sweater, with long white hair all down her back. She had a cup of tea beside her, on a table. I must have made some little noise, or she sensed me behind her...she turned and saw me, and I saw her, and it was you, Clare, this was you as old woman, in the future. It was sweet, Clare, it was sweet beyond telling, to come as though from death to hold you, and to see the years all present in your face. I won't tell you any more, so you can imagine it, so you can have it unrehearsed when the time comes, as it will, as it does come. We will see each other again, Clare. Until then, live, fully, present in the world, which is so beautiful.
It's dark now, and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing.
Henry
After being on the Vegan Freak forums for a while now, I have looked up Alkaline Trio and Propagandhi, as well.
WHOA me: what year am I in, anyway? But there you go.
Now I think it is time to get a copy of Possession; pun not intended!
I also dreamt of Sir Danny. Hmm. Mayhap I should ask how he is.
Anyway.
I shall end with a quote from Niffenegger's work. It's pp. 518-521 on my copy, and it is Henry's letter to Clare in the event of post-mortem:
A Letter to Be Opened in the Event of My Death
December 10, 2006
Dearest Clare,
As I write this, I am sitting at my desk in the back bedroom looking out at your studio across the backyard full of blue evening snow, and everything is slick and crusty with ice, and it is very still. It's one of those winter evenings when the coldness of every single thing seems to slow down time, like the narrow center of an hourglass which time itself flows through, but slowly, slowly. I have the feeling, very familiar to me when I am out of time but almost never otherwise, of being buoyed up by time, floating effortlessly on its surface like a fat lady swimmer. I had a sudden urge, tonight, here in the house by myself (you are at Alicia's recital at St. Lucy's) to write you a letter. I suddenly wanted to leave something, for after. I think that time is short, now. I feel as though all my reserves, of energy, of pleasure, of duration, are thin, small. I don't feel capable of continuing very much longer. I know you know.
If you are reading this, I am probably dead. (I say probably because you never know what circumstances may arise; it seems foolish and self-important to just declare one's own death as an out-and-out fact.) About this death of mine--I hope it was simple and clean and unambiguous. I hope it didn't create too much fuss. I'm sorry. (This reads like a suicide note. Strange.) But you know: you know that if I could have stayed, if I could have gone on, that I would have clutched every second: whatever it was, this death, you know that it came and took me, like a child carried away by goblins.
Clare, I want to tell you again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever trust. Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me and surround you, keep you, hold you.
I hate to think of you waiting. I know that you have been waiting for me all your life, always uncertain of how long this patch of waiting would be. Ten minutes, ten days. A month. What an uncertain husband I have been, Clare, like a sailor, Odysseus alone and buffeted by tall waves, sometime wily and sometimes just a plaything of the gods. Please, Clare. When I am dead. Stop waiting and be free. Of me--put deep inside you and then go out in the world and live. Love the world and yourself in it, move through it as though it offers no resistance, as though the world is your natural element. I have given you a life of suspended animation. I don't mean to say that you have done nothing. You have created beauty, and meaning, in your art, and Alba, who is amazing, and for me: for me you have been everything.
After my mom died she ate my father up completely. She would have hated it. Every minute of his life since then has been marked by her absence, every action has lacked dimension because she is not there to measure against. And when I was young I didn't understand, but now, I know, how absence can be present, like a damaged nerve, like a dark bird. If I had to live on without you I know I could not do it. But I hope, I have this vision of you walking unencumbered, with your shining hair in the sun. I have not seen this with my eyes, but only with my imagination, that makes pictures, that always wanted to paint you, shining; but I hope that this vision will be true, anyway.
Clare, there is one last thing, and I have hesitated to tell you, because I'm superstitiously afraid that telling it might cause it not to happen (I know: silly) and also because I have just been going on about not waiting and this might cause you to wait longer than you have ever waited before. But I will tell you in case you need something, after.
Last summer, I was sitting in Kendrick's waiting room when I suddenly found myself in a dark hallway in a house I didn't know. I was sort of tangled up in a bunch of galoshes, and it smelled like rain. At the end of the hall I could see a rim of light around a door, and so I went very slowly and very quietly to the door and looked in. The room was white, and immensely lit with morning sun. At the window, with her back to me, sat a woman, wearing a coral-colored cardigan sweater, with long white hair all down her back. She had a cup of tea beside her, on a table. I must have made some little noise, or she sensed me behind her...she turned and saw me, and I saw her, and it was you, Clare, this was you as old woman, in the future. It was sweet, Clare, it was sweet beyond telling, to come as though from death to hold you, and to see the years all present in your face. I won't tell you any more, so you can imagine it, so you can have it unrehearsed when the time comes, as it will, as it does come. We will see each other again, Clare. Until then, live, fully, present in the world, which is so beautiful.
It's dark now, and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing.
Henry
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Yoga on a Full Moon
Last night, I practiced yoga, but had a bit of a hard time with balance, plus my energy levels were sapped. I was wobbly getting off Ustrasana, and I felt like collapsing at some point. I couldn't understand it. Then my teacher F said, "It's probably a full moon tonight."
As I was going home, I looked up, and indeed it was. But what about it? I checked this site, and this is what it had to say: Full* and new^ moon days are observed as yoga holidays, as the energy force created by the moon and sun being in opposition and conjunction affects emotions and energy, and respecting these phases is believed to honor nature's rhythms....The moon controls the tides of the oceans. So, if two thirds of the human body weight is water, then it is likely that the moon affects our emotions and energy levels.
The crescent moon is also said to be very symbolic in yoga, at times being the symbol of yoga itself.
Other things to note: The period of a waning moon leading up to a new moon is the best time for detoxifying the body--release all your toxins and refresh. This is the optimum time to exfoliate, use cleansing face packs, sea-salt baths, seaweed wraps, have facials and sweat it out in the sauna.
The phase when the moon is waxing up to a full moon is the time to replenish, regenerate and repair your skin with moisturizers and essential oil massages. Give your hair a deep conditioning treatment too, as it's believed that the skin and hair are more absorbent at this time.
---------------------------------
*The full moon occurs between 14 and 15 days after the new moon, and is shaped like a complete disc. The moon's illuminated side is facing the earth. The full moon reflects the maximum light from the sun. This is the time when the moon's energy is strongest and full of magick power.
^The new moon occurs when the sun and moon are in conjunction, occupying the same part of the sky from the viewpoint of earth. During this time the moon doesn't reflect the light of the sun, and so cannot be seen (except during a solar eclipse). The moon's un-illuminated side is facing the earth. This is a time of growing energy, newness, rejuvenation, growth, renewal and hope. It is a good point to make changes in your life, such as ending bad habits or relationships.
As I was going home, I looked up, and indeed it was. But what about it? I checked this site, and this is what it had to say: Full* and new^ moon days are observed as yoga holidays, as the energy force created by the moon and sun being in opposition and conjunction affects emotions and energy, and respecting these phases is believed to honor nature's rhythms....The moon controls the tides of the oceans. So, if two thirds of the human body weight is water, then it is likely that the moon affects our emotions and energy levels.
The crescent moon is also said to be very symbolic in yoga, at times being the symbol of yoga itself.
Other things to note: The period of a waning moon leading up to a new moon is the best time for detoxifying the body--release all your toxins and refresh. This is the optimum time to exfoliate, use cleansing face packs, sea-salt baths, seaweed wraps, have facials and sweat it out in the sauna.
The phase when the moon is waxing up to a full moon is the time to replenish, regenerate and repair your skin with moisturizers and essential oil massages. Give your hair a deep conditioning treatment too, as it's believed that the skin and hair are more absorbent at this time.
---------------------------------
*The full moon occurs between 14 and 15 days after the new moon, and is shaped like a complete disc. The moon's illuminated side is facing the earth. The full moon reflects the maximum light from the sun. This is the time when the moon's energy is strongest and full of magick power.
^The new moon occurs when the sun and moon are in conjunction, occupying the same part of the sky from the viewpoint of earth. During this time the moon doesn't reflect the light of the sun, and so cannot be seen (except during a solar eclipse). The moon's un-illuminated side is facing the earth. This is a time of growing energy, newness, rejuvenation, growth, renewal and hope. It is a good point to make changes in your life, such as ending bad habits or relationships.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Decisions on My Three-fold Path
Yoga in Manila:
Roberto Dario's Power Yoga --I don't think this is for me
Bela Lipat--I don't know why, but she scares me, though I think she also teaches Sivananda, which looks nice
Yoga Manila (Iyengar)--what I'm thinking of incorporating for alignment's sake (I'm told I'm too flexible)
Yoga Manila (Ashtanga)--piqued by this
Bikram Yoga Manila--what I practice: I love the push and the heat and the accompanying sweat
This article and quiz might help.
But what if I want to mix?
A glossary of Sanskrit terms here for resource purposes.
Then ohmygosh, there's Reiki, and vegan wholefoods cooking school.
But seriously, just do it; one step at a time.
Roberto Dario's Power Yoga --I don't think this is for me
Bela Lipat--I don't know why, but she scares me, though I think she also teaches Sivananda, which looks nice
Yoga Manila (Iyengar)--what I'm thinking of incorporating for alignment's sake (I'm told I'm too flexible)
Yoga Manila (Ashtanga)--piqued by this
Bikram Yoga Manila--what I practice: I love the push and the heat and the accompanying sweat
This article and quiz might help.
But what if I want to mix?
A glossary of Sanskrit terms here for resource purposes.
Then ohmygosh, there's Reiki, and vegan wholefoods cooking school.
But seriously, just do it; one step at a time.
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