The dictionary defines yoga as any number of methods, or disciplines prescribed, especially a series of postures and breathing exercises practiced to achieve control of the body and mind, tranquility, etc. Some practices even see it as a help to become in touch with the Divine.
To some, yoga looks like a lot of weird positions that sometimes looks as if one is trying to be a contortionist. But, in reality, yoga exercises build strength and increase flexibility. Some say I'm just afraid of getting old, always trying to do young things. Old, to me, is not the culprit. Everyday my eyes open is another day to try again. Losing mobility is the scary part and a strong inner body core is the ultimate warrior against an aging body. After all, that's where all the parts are that keep the body functioning.
Yoga positions have names that correlate with common figures and for me, make the pose easier to remember. For instance, tree pose, child pose, corpse pose and mountain pose. Then there are the poses named after animals, upward facing dog, downward facing dog, cobra pose, cat pose, cat arch pose and these too help to remind the practitioner exactly how to maneuver into position.
Recently, I was asked to care for a dog while its human was out of town. It was only for three mornings and since I was familiar with the dog, I agreed. I already walk each morning, so having a little bit of extra exercise and challenge could surely do no harm. Vanna is a mixed breed, looking somewhat like a greyhound and whippet with perhaps a drop of pit bull in the brew. She is much larger than Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, but they get along, as long as they follow their acknowledgement rule. That being, they know each other is in the other's presence and as long as they keep their respective noses to themselves, all is well.
The first two mornings past without incident. The air was crisp and both dogs seemed to enjoy each other's company, even if that meant the constant competition of who would be the lead dog.
The third morning started the same. Runtly patiently waited for me to gather Vanna. Runtly does not like to go into Vanna's living space for one reason. There is a cat in there, Alvin, who is bigger than Runtly. Runtly really does like cats, but when it comes to huge cats, he's happy with looking at them through the window. The walking journey started out with a large curve in the road. We had no more rounded said curve when Vanna spotted the lady, the lady with the small dog, about 20 yards ahead of us. We were standing off the side of the road when she made her discovery, which in hindsight was a very good thing. Vanna truly is a very nice dog, but there was something about this lady and that dog that sent a different message to her k-9 wavelengths.
I'm standing with a dog lead in each hand. These are the retractable kind, with 16 feet of leash. I observe Vanna moving into aggressive mode as she starts to run, full bore, at the lady with the dog. My mind quickly assesses the situation, my walking and yoga were going to pay off. I planted both feet firmly in the earth and waited for the 16th foot of leash to be found.
When Vanna hit the end of her leash, what followed seemed to happen in some sort of time warp. My left arm was immediately hyper extended into warrior pose. Then I became airborne. An expletive left my lips, during my flight, that started with an 's' and ended with a 't' and may have had an 'O' in the front of it, but I cannot attest to the accuracy of the 'O'. The next thing I knew, I was on my back in the pose of 'upward facing human', giving a silent thanks that is was not truly corpse pose.
I still had a dog lead in each hand and I slowly raised my head. The lady and the small dog are still there, her eyes as big as dinner plates and she asks me if I'm alright. She can't help because Vanna is still in bad dog mode. I apologize for the dog's bad behavior and tell her I think I'm fine. Runly, not knowing what to do, begins to bark. I take into account my body parts. They all seems to be there and in working order. Then, I try to get up. That was nearly as great a challenge as trying to hold on to 60 pounds of charging dog. I managed to wallow around to being on all fours, cat position, and felt the wet muddy soil penetrating into my knees through my clean yoga pants.
It was about this time, an older gentleman came around the end of his vehicle and asked if I needed help. Runtly's barking had actually done some good. My mind suddenly went back in time to a story. It was a time when my Dad thought it would be a good idea to ride the neighbor's new motorcycle. He road up the street and turned a corner to make his way back. This particular corner, between two churches, always had a wash of pea gravel at the intersection. Dad rode into the small rocks and the tires went with the gravel and Dad went down too. There he was, his hand still on the throttle because he wasn't sure if he could start it if he let go. As if on cue, a man stopped, helped him up and even retrieved Dad's hat and put it back on his head. I looked up at this man, swallowed my pride and admitted that I did indeed, need his help. At least my hat had stayed on.
We finished the walk with no more points of interest. Sadly, I knew I had to admit that walking Vanna again was probably not going to happen. During the next couple of days, my body gave proof as to what muscles had actually been wakened from their deep sleep. But, in order to fine something good out of the whole thing, I came up with a new exercise for my yoga routine. I call it the 'double dog walk' and it consists of trying to get up from the floor without using my arms.
Monday, January 28, 2019
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
Being Duped
We live in amazing times. Many years ago, on a country road excursion with my mother, she made the comment about what her father would think of the farm equipment of today. Her father had died in the 1940's and farmed with real horse power. The same could be said now, about my mother. I wonder what she would say about how the technology has changed and she has only been gone 11 years.
We live in an age of instant gratification, instant messaging, instant access. We live on social media sights and unfortunately, believe most of what we see on them.
As much as I rant about how the main stream media is owned by just a handful of individuals, with an agenda, I let myself fall into their latest trap.
The story starts in Washington D.C. A group of students are on a class trip. As they finish up their sight seeing activities and are waiting on their bus, something happens. What I watched, on social media, was a video and the following explanation: The students had surrounded a Native American Indian, also a veteran, who was protesting (not sure what about) and beating a ceremonial drum, along with singing the song of his people. One young man faces off with this gentleman. The teenager is wearing a MAGA hat, I doubt there needs to be an explanation of what that means, along with most of his fellow students. The teenager never says a word, but smiles smugly into the elder man's face. Then the rest of the students begin to chant, "Build The Wall" and taunt the poor Native American man.
This particular video has since gone viral. When I watched it, I was sickened by the actions of this young person with his smug face. The article that surrounded this video even noted that this boy's mother had already made an excuse for his behavior, blaming it on another group. That made me even madder, always placing the blame on someone else....no wonder he acts that way!
Then, while searching through the places where I go to find some real truth in the happenings of the world, I came across another video. This was the video of the entire encounter between this smug, white privileged, rich boy and the poor Native American elder. It shows a group who had already been taunting the students, calling them names and racial slurs. The students asked their chaperone if they could chant some of their school spirit cheers and were given the go-ahead. Then it shows the Native American, beating his drum, walking directly into the group of students. Some of the students are even dancing to the beat of his drum. This elder continues into the group until he is right in the face of the young teenager. Yeah, the one with the smug look on his face. The Native American man continues beating his drum and is so close, that the drumstick nearly hits the boy in the face. Then, the gentle drum beating elder tells the boy he needs to go back to Europe.
When I watched this, I was equally sickened because I had not followed the beating of my own drum and looked first for the truth. Since the airing of the first video, this young man and his family have been blasted all over the main stream media as racists. One person even said that all MAGA hats should be banned since they seemed to be causing brain damage. The boy and his family have received death threats from people all over the country. I am now trying to right my own wrong by sharing the truth of the matter with as many as will take the time to read and listen.
This is what we have become? A nation of people who no longer look for the truth? Who follow blindly, without even thinking to question what they are being spoon fed? It is time to pull our heads out of the sand. There is a propaganda campaign going on that if we fall victim to it, will change everything and it will not change for the better. YouTube and Facebook censor their material and makes sure it follows THEIR guidelines. Yet, this video, the misleading one, is still on Facebook. Why is that? If the time is taken to actually look deeper into what is shown on the evening news, the difference is shocking. A huge percentage of what is being shown is the exact opposite of the truth.
Only the truth will set us free.
We live in an age of instant gratification, instant messaging, instant access. We live on social media sights and unfortunately, believe most of what we see on them.
As much as I rant about how the main stream media is owned by just a handful of individuals, with an agenda, I let myself fall into their latest trap.
The story starts in Washington D.C. A group of students are on a class trip. As they finish up their sight seeing activities and are waiting on their bus, something happens. What I watched, on social media, was a video and the following explanation: The students had surrounded a Native American Indian, also a veteran, who was protesting (not sure what about) and beating a ceremonial drum, along with singing the song of his people. One young man faces off with this gentleman. The teenager is wearing a MAGA hat, I doubt there needs to be an explanation of what that means, along with most of his fellow students. The teenager never says a word, but smiles smugly into the elder man's face. Then the rest of the students begin to chant, "Build The Wall" and taunt the poor Native American man.
This particular video has since gone viral. When I watched it, I was sickened by the actions of this young person with his smug face. The article that surrounded this video even noted that this boy's mother had already made an excuse for his behavior, blaming it on another group. That made me even madder, always placing the blame on someone else....no wonder he acts that way!
Then, while searching through the places where I go to find some real truth in the happenings of the world, I came across another video. This was the video of the entire encounter between this smug, white privileged, rich boy and the poor Native American elder. It shows a group who had already been taunting the students, calling them names and racial slurs. The students asked their chaperone if they could chant some of their school spirit cheers and were given the go-ahead. Then it shows the Native American, beating his drum, walking directly into the group of students. Some of the students are even dancing to the beat of his drum. This elder continues into the group until he is right in the face of the young teenager. Yeah, the one with the smug look on his face. The Native American man continues beating his drum and is so close, that the drumstick nearly hits the boy in the face. Then, the gentle drum beating elder tells the boy he needs to go back to Europe.
When I watched this, I was equally sickened because I had not followed the beating of my own drum and looked first for the truth. Since the airing of the first video, this young man and his family have been blasted all over the main stream media as racists. One person even said that all MAGA hats should be banned since they seemed to be causing brain damage. The boy and his family have received death threats from people all over the country. I am now trying to right my own wrong by sharing the truth of the matter with as many as will take the time to read and listen.
This is what we have become? A nation of people who no longer look for the truth? Who follow blindly, without even thinking to question what they are being spoon fed? It is time to pull our heads out of the sand. There is a propaganda campaign going on that if we fall victim to it, will change everything and it will not change for the better. YouTube and Facebook censor their material and makes sure it follows THEIR guidelines. Yet, this video, the misleading one, is still on Facebook. Why is that? If the time is taken to actually look deeper into what is shown on the evening news, the difference is shocking. A huge percentage of what is being shown is the exact opposite of the truth.
Only the truth will set us free.
Tuesday, January 15, 2019
Clean Slate
There is a long, wide, sidewalk that snakes through this place. It is actually a golf cart path, but a long wide sidewalk paints a better picture in the brain. Depending on the direction of the traveler, the walk either starts or ends going uphill or down. It passes between two small bodies of water. The long, wide sidewalk has a canopy of Loblolly pine trees that tower over fifty feet above, blocking out most of the sunshine, yet creating an umbrella effect during a rain. Although the Loblolly is part of the evergreen family and are 'ever green', they still lose their needles. The many thousands, or millions, of three needled clusters that cover the ground are a testament to their shedding. The number of needles in the cluster is how the pine species is recognized. Loblolly 3, White 5 and Red or Jack have 2.
During the latter part of autumn and into winter, the pine trees, in their quest to stay green, shed their needles onto the long, wide sidewalk, making it nearly impossible to see. Along with the dreary winter rains, the carts that use this path, leave behind muddy tracks that seem to be eternally ground into the cement. This process leaves the long, wide sidewalk looking as if it is depressed. Then, as if a desperate cry was heard from afar, the rains came again and after them came an angel with a leaf blower.
The path is clean again. It's newly bathed surface cuts a stark contrast to the fading brown needles that line both sides. It beckons the traveler to come again, to walk the path, to contemplate there, beneath its grand canopy, because now it is a clean slate.
What would it do for the soul, to look upon each new day as a clean slate? To realize that what happened yesterday is still there and there is no need to drag it along into tomorrow. To understand that each awakening is a chance to start again. To see where the mistake was made and to know how to avoid it. To wake and to realize what a gift that really is. To have another chance to make things right, or to forgive, or to love. To come to the realization that life is to be lived and not taken for granted.
Step out onto that long, wide, clean slate of life and whether it takes the journey north or south, be most grateful for the opportunity.
During the latter part of autumn and into winter, the pine trees, in their quest to stay green, shed their needles onto the long, wide sidewalk, making it nearly impossible to see. Along with the dreary winter rains, the carts that use this path, leave behind muddy tracks that seem to be eternally ground into the cement. This process leaves the long, wide sidewalk looking as if it is depressed. Then, as if a desperate cry was heard from afar, the rains came again and after them came an angel with a leaf blower.
The path is clean again. It's newly bathed surface cuts a stark contrast to the fading brown needles that line both sides. It beckons the traveler to come again, to walk the path, to contemplate there, beneath its grand canopy, because now it is a clean slate.
What would it do for the soul, to look upon each new day as a clean slate? To realize that what happened yesterday is still there and there is no need to drag it along into tomorrow. To understand that each awakening is a chance to start again. To see where the mistake was made and to know how to avoid it. To wake and to realize what a gift that really is. To have another chance to make things right, or to forgive, or to love. To come to the realization that life is to be lived and not taken for granted.
Step out onto that long, wide, clean slate of life and whether it takes the journey north or south, be most grateful for the opportunity.
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