Have a LOVELY weekend!
(Found here)
Yoga to go: The keys to a rewarding home practice
Newsflash!!!
WORKSHOP ALERT
Where? Triyoga Chelsea
When? 31/01/2014
Time? 19:30 - 21:30
Price? £25
So if you are interested in nurturing or developing a home practice or if you find your self at a loose end, or not knowing where to take a new pet, human or otherwise I really must recommend you come along and say hi and get your stretch on...click HERE for tickets.
And here is the blah blah...
Do you love your yoga practice at the studio but your home practice never quite meets your expectation?
Our bodies represent the life we have lived thus far; a map of
our personal history. The physical aspects of Yoga provide a useful tool to
view the way we move. For this practice to be of use, it makes sense to tailor it to your life and body. That’s where rolling
out the mat at home comes in.
Going
to class is brilliant, of course, but translating that to a home
practice can be tricky. In this workshop you are invited to make clear
choices about which feelings
in your body you pay attention to - building your self-knowledge, intuition and self-trust that,
if used intelligently, will help you direct a practice that fits within the boundaries of where you are, what you're feeling,
and what you're needing.
Join Rachel in starting and/or nurturing your home practice, to get the most out of your body in the
safest possible way. Prepare to:
·
Focus the mind for the moment-to-moment noticing and decision-making that takes place during asana practice
·
Create templates for your own safe sequencing
·
Get rid of the myths and inspire yourself to help make things a little easier when removing the obstacles to practising at home
teacher bio:
Rachel’s
teaching springs from the very precise Iyengar system, but is also
greatly influenced by the study of functional movement, the work of
Vanda Scaravelli and her
current teacher Anna Ashby. Classes combine an appreciation for
alignment with a real love of movement, while including more restorative
practices where appropriate. Rachel’s training includes the Karuna
Yoga Teacher Training Diploma (RYS 500 hours, 2007-
09) and the Restorative Yoga (36 hours, 2011) taught by Anna Ashby and
Chris Swain.
Thursday, 30 January 2014
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“Organize yourself & bring rhythm to your life: Because you have
things to do, habits to break, dreams to achieve, peace to discover and
one life to live”
― V.V. Rao
― V.V. Rao
The Strongest Woman in the World
By Yumi Sakugawa
(via therumpus)
I love the rhythm of Yumi Sakugawa's comic strips. Read more on her blog.
Wednesday, 29 January 2014
Katie Paterson
‘Fossil Necklace is a string of worlds, with each bead modestly representing a major event in the evolution of life through a vast expanse of geological time. From the mono-cellular origins of life on earth to the shifting of the continents, the extinction of the Cretaceous period triggered by a falling meteorite, to the first flowering of flowers, it charts the development of our species and affirms our intimate connection to the evolution of those alongside us. Each fossil has been individually selected from all corners of the globe, and then carved into spherical beads in a secondary process of excavation.’
--Guy Haywood, Kettle’s Yard.
Katie Paterson's Fossil Necklace is one of the most beautiful things i've seen in a while.
It is currently on show at The Welcome Collection (London) as part of the Foreign Bodies Common Ground exhibition.
“If you repeat a single word over and over again, it becomes nonsensical. The same applies to body parts—repetition disassociates them from their real function. They may create an interesting shape, but they have no actual use.”
J. Mae Barizo on artist Alvin Booth’s newest exhibition, Come to Your Senses.
(From theparisreview )
Tuesday, 28 January 2014
"This is a week for being careful, for being intentional, for
keeping your ear to the rhythms of the ground you walk on, and the
rhythms of your tender beating heart."
-- Madame Clairevoyant
-- Madame Clairevoyant
Irish Dance
Coco Rocha on JIG from Coco Rocha on Vimeo.
Red Hot Rhythm's 'Rhythm Junkies' - Teaser Trailer 2: The Irish
I used to do this. Yep.
It's still my favorite kind of folk dance, especially the tap. Dancing those rhythms is like laying your heart beat on the floor.
Monday, 27 January 2014
Rhythm (from Greek ῥυθμός, rhythmos, "any regular recurring motion, symmetry") generally means a "movement marked by the regulated succession of strong and weak elements, or of opposite or different conditions." This general meaning of regular recurrence or pattern in time can apply to a wide variety of cyclical natural phenomena having a periodicity or frequency of anything from microseconds to millions of years.
In the performance arts rhythm is the timing of events on a human scale; of musical sounds and silences, of the steps of a dance, or the meter of spoken language and poetry.
(text from here. image source: Rhythm)
Sunday, 26 January 2014
Rock Crystal
But hers through which the crystal tears gave light,
Shone like the moon in water seen by night.
-- Shakespear
Venus and Adonis 1.491. D iii, 1. 16, 17.
(photo credit: Noé Sendas)
PHANTASIA FOR ELVIRA SHATAYEV
(leader of a women’s climbing team, all of whom died in a storm on Lenin Peak, August 1974. Later, Shatayev’s husband found and burned the bodies.)
The cold felt cold until our blood
grew colder then the wind
died down and we slept
If in this sleep I speak
it’s with a voice no longer personal
(I want to say with voices)
When the wind tore our breath from us at last
we had no need of words
For months for years each one of us
had felt her own yes growing in her
slowly forming as she stood at windows waited
for trains mended her rucksack combed her hair
What we were to learn was simply what we had
up here as out of all words that yes gathered
to meet a No of no degrees
the black hole sucking the world in
I feel you climbing toward me
your cleated bootsoles leaving their geometric bite
colossally embossed on microscopic crystals
as when I trailed you in the Caucasus
Now I am further
ahead than either of us dreamed anyone would be
I have become
the white snow packed like asphalt by the wind
the women I love lightly flung against the mountain
that blue sky
our frozen eyes unribboned through the storm
we could have stitched that blueness together like a quilt
You come (I know this) with your love your loss
strapped to your body with your tape-recorder camera
ice pick against advisement
to give us burial in the snow and in your mind
While my body lies out here
flashing like a prism into your eyes
how could you sleep You climbed here for yourself
we climbed for ourselves
When you have buried us told your story
ours does not end we stream
into the unfinished the unbegun
the possible
Every cell’s core of heat pulsed out of us
into the thin air of the universe
the armature of rock beneath these snows
this mountain which has taken the imprint of our minds
through changes elemental and minute
as those we underwent
to bring each other here
choosing ourselves each other and this life
whose every breath and grasp and further foothold
is somewhere still enacted and continuing
In the diary I wrote:
Now we are ready
and each of us knows it I have never loved
like this I have never seen
my own forces so taken up and shared
and given back
After the long training the early sieges
we are moving almost effortlessly in our love
In the diary as the wind began to tear
all the tents over us I wrote:
We know now we have always been in danger
down in our separateness
and now up here together but till now
we had not touched our strength
In the diary torn from my fingers I had written:
What does love mean
what does it mean ”to survive”
A cable blue fire ropes our bodies
burning together in the snow We will not live
to settle for less We have dreamed of this
all of our lives
-- Adrienne Rich (1974)
The cold felt cold until our blood
grew colder then the wind
died down and we slept
If in this sleep I speak
it’s with a voice no longer personal
(I want to say with voices)
When the wind tore our breath from us at last
we had no need of words
For months for years each one of us
had felt her own yes growing in her
slowly forming as she stood at windows waited
for trains mended her rucksack combed her hair
What we were to learn was simply what we had
up here as out of all words that yes gathered
to meet a No of no degrees
the black hole sucking the world in
I feel you climbing toward me
your cleated bootsoles leaving their geometric bite
colossally embossed on microscopic crystals
as when I trailed you in the Caucasus
Now I am further
ahead than either of us dreamed anyone would be
I have become
the white snow packed like asphalt by the wind
the women I love lightly flung against the mountain
that blue sky
our frozen eyes unribboned through the storm
we could have stitched that blueness together like a quilt
You come (I know this) with your love your loss
strapped to your body with your tape-recorder camera
ice pick against advisement
to give us burial in the snow and in your mind
While my body lies out here
flashing like a prism into your eyes
how could you sleep You climbed here for yourself
we climbed for ourselves
When you have buried us told your story
ours does not end we stream
into the unfinished the unbegun
the possible
Every cell’s core of heat pulsed out of us
into the thin air of the universe
the armature of rock beneath these snows
this mountain which has taken the imprint of our minds
through changes elemental and minute
as those we underwent
to bring each other here
choosing ourselves each other and this life
whose every breath and grasp and further foothold
is somewhere still enacted and continuing
In the diary I wrote:
Now we are ready
and each of us knows it I have never loved
like this I have never seen
my own forces so taken up and shared
and given back
After the long training the early sieges
we are moving almost effortlessly in our love
In the diary as the wind began to tear
all the tents over us I wrote:
We know now we have always been in danger
down in our separateness
and now up here together but till now
we had not touched our strength
In the diary torn from my fingers I had written:
What does love mean
what does it mean ”to survive”
A cable blue fire ropes our bodies
burning together in the snow We will not live
to settle for less We have dreamed of this
all of our lives
-- Adrienne Rich (1974)
Friday, 24 January 2014
Splittings
1.
My body opens over San Francisco like the day –
light raining down each pore crying the change of light
I am not with her I have been waking off and on
all night to that pain not simply absence but
the presence of the past destructive
to living here and now Yet if I could instruct
myself, if we could learn to learn from pain
even as it grasps us if the mind, the mind that lives
in this body could refuse to let itself be crushed
in that grasp it would loosen Pain would have to stand
off from me and listen its dark breath still on me
but the mind could begin to speak to pain
and pain would have to answer:
We are older now
we have met before these are my hands before your eyes
my figure blotting out all that is not mine
I am the pain of division creator of divisions
it is I who blot your lover from you
and not the time-zones or the miles
It is not separation calls me forth but I
who am separation And remember
I have no existence apart from you
2.
I believe I am choosing something now
not to suffer uselessly yet still to feel
Does the infant memorize the body of the mother
and create her in absence?
or simply cry primordial loneliness?
does the bed of the stream
once diverted mourning remember the wetness?
But we, we live so much in these
configurations of the past I choose
to separate her from my past we have not shared
I choose not to suffer uselessly
to detect primordial pain as it stalks toward me
flashing its bleak torch in my eyes blotting out
her particular being the details of her love
I will not be divided from her or from myself
by myths of separation
while her mind and body in Manhattan are more with me
than the smell of eucalyptus coolly burning on these hills
3.
The world tells me I am its creature
I am raked by eyes brushed by hands
I want to crawl into her for refuge lay my head
in the space between her breast and shoulder
abnegating power for love
as women have done or hiding
from power in her love like a man
I refuse these givens the splitting
between love and action I am choosing
not to suffer uselessly and not to use her
I choose to love this time for once
with all my intelligence.
-- Adrienne Rich
My body opens over San Francisco like the day –
light raining down each pore crying the change of light
I am not with her I have been waking off and on
all night to that pain not simply absence but
the presence of the past destructive
to living here and now Yet if I could instruct
myself, if we could learn to learn from pain
even as it grasps us if the mind, the mind that lives
in this body could refuse to let itself be crushed
in that grasp it would loosen Pain would have to stand
off from me and listen its dark breath still on me
but the mind could begin to speak to pain
and pain would have to answer:
We are older now
we have met before these are my hands before your eyes
my figure blotting out all that is not mine
I am the pain of division creator of divisions
it is I who blot your lover from you
and not the time-zones or the miles
It is not separation calls me forth but I
who am separation And remember
I have no existence apart from you
2.
I believe I am choosing something now
not to suffer uselessly yet still to feel
Does the infant memorize the body of the mother
and create her in absence?
or simply cry primordial loneliness?
does the bed of the stream
once diverted mourning remember the wetness?
But we, we live so much in these
configurations of the past I choose
to separate her from my past we have not shared
I choose not to suffer uselessly
to detect primordial pain as it stalks toward me
flashing its bleak torch in my eyes blotting out
her particular being the details of her love
I will not be divided from her or from myself
by myths of separation
while her mind and body in Manhattan are more with me
than the smell of eucalyptus coolly burning on these hills
3.
The world tells me I am its creature
I am raked by eyes brushed by hands
I want to crawl into her for refuge lay my head
in the space between her breast and shoulder
abnegating power for love
as women have done or hiding
from power in her love like a man
I refuse these givens the splitting
between love and action I am choosing
not to suffer uselessly and not to use her
I choose to love this time for once
with all my intelligence.
-- Adrienne Rich
Mar Seck
This album has accompanied me on my travels around London this week. Mar Secks voice is so delicate. Beautiful.
Thursday, 23 January 2014
Stop minimizing and discounting your feelings. You have every right to feel the way you do. Your feelings may not always be logical, but they are always valid. Because if you feel something, then you feel it and it’s real to you. It’s not something you can ignore or wish away. It’s there, gnawing at you, tugging at your core, and in order to find peace, you have to give yourself permission to feel whatever it is you feel. You have to let go of what you’ve been told you “should” or “shouldn’t” feel. You have to drown out the voices of people who try to shame you into silence. You have to listen to the sound of your own breathing and honor the truth inside you. Because despite what you may believe, you don’t need anyone’s validation or approval to feel what you feel. Your feelings are inherently right and true. They’re important and they matter — you matter — and it is more than okay to feel what you feel. Don’t let anyone, including yourself, convince you otherwise.
-- Daniell Koepke
(image source: thedeathofcool, via awelltraveledwoman)