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You need not even listen, simply wait, just learn to become quiet, and still, and solitary. Kafka  #Womensvoice1 blog # International Yoga day

6/20/2015

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"You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait, just learn to become quiet, and still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet."

- Franz Kafka - from Senses

 
Last year, the United Nations General Assembly declared this Sunday, June 21st as the first International Day of Yoga. 

The Prime Minister of India, Mr. Narendra Modi stated that "Yoga is an invaluable gift of India's ancient tradition. It embodies unity of mind and body; thought and action; restraint and fulfillment; harmony between man and nature; a holistic approach to health and well-being. It is not about exercise but to discover the sense of oneness with yourself, the world and the nature. ". The government of India is planning to celebrate IDY 2015 in all the countries around the world, and has organized events in cities across the globe.
Developed in India thousands of years ago, yoga has become an increasingly popular form of exercise in our everyday lives. The exact history of yoga is uncertain, however, It is known that the earliest signs of yoga practice appear in ancient Shamanism. Evidence of yoga postures were found on artifacts that date back to 3000 BC.
The purpose of yoga is to create strength, awareness and harmony in both the mind and the body.

There are more than one hundred different schools, of yoga, most types are typically comprised of breathing exercises, meditation, and assuming postures, or Asana, that stretch and flex various muscle groups. Yoga combines physical and mental disciplines to achieve peacefulness of body and mind, helping one to relax and manage stress and anxiety.

 Hatha yoga is one of the most common styles of yoga, particularly suitable for beginners, because of its slower pace, but there are many other styles, forms and intensities.

Restorative yoga has become very popular for stress relief after a busy work day, or when recovering from an illness or injury. 
Modern yoga is based on five basic principles that were created by Swami Sivananda who was a Hindu spiritual teacher who lived until the 1960's
Proper relaxation
Proper exercise

Proper Breathing
Proper diet
Positive thinking and meditation

The purpose of International Yoga Day, is to unite people together in the practice of Yoga, with the hope of promoting harmony and peace.

  From the one heart...

 Hear from the heart wordless mysteries!

Understand what cannot be understood...

In our stone-dark hearts there burns a fire

That burns all veils to their root and foundation,

When the veils are burned away,

the heart will understand completely...

Ancient Love will unfold ever-fresh forms

In the heart of the Spirit, in the core of the heart.

 

- Rumi

 
I have included several Yoga poems for you to enjoy, including  one of my own to conclude.

The first is by Viola Allo, who is a Cameroonian-born poet and essayist. She holds a BA in psychology and MA in anthropology. She is a certified yoga instructor and Ayurvedic wellness counselor. She loves yoga, poetry, and all things literary, artistic, or meditative.

Spring into Song , by  Viola Allo

 Poetry and yoga are intimately tied to music.

In poetry, we have the line with its rhythms and rhymes.

In yoga, we have sequences, pacing, and the rhythms of the breath.

In yoga, we make varied shapes with our bodies, exploring all our physical ranges of motion. In poetry, we make new narratives and explore the depths of our imaginative mind.

The separation between the practice of yoga and the practice of writing poetry is a blurred line that a poet and yogi like me crosses all the time.

Perhaps, there is no line, just one beautiful spectrum of physical, mental, artistic, and spiritual expression.

April is a month of rebirth, as the Spring season truly kicks in.

Flowers shoot up toward the sun. Trees fill out with fresh, iridescent leaves. Birds bask in those trees and sing all day long.

Come join the chorus and sing your positive, unique, and sweet song. Do some yoga in the sun. Share a poem with someone. Did you notice: this is a poem? Read it again and pass it on!

 
Following the Breath

 By Liz Smith-Anderson

I feel the energy rise and fall with my breath.

Closing my eyes I follow my breath,

Like Alice down the rabbit hole I seek the edges,

Of reality,

Of my body,

Of the Energy.

When I encounter resistance,

Within my body in a pose,

I have come to understand that the root,

Of this resistance lies within my mind.

Memories etched in the unconscious mind,

In movement revealed,

Come as I am ready to heal them,

So I let them come.

I do not resist because I know,

All things in their time will surrender,

To the Love that lives within,

And the pose will evolve.

I have come to trust my breath will lead me to relinquish the pain

And bring me to that moment of release,

Where my being conjoins,

And I reach the state of Oneness.


Leza Lowitz is an American writer and Yoga instructor living in Tokyo, Japan. She has written, edited and co-translated over seventeen books, many about Japan, its relationship with the U.S.A., on the changing role of Japanese women in literature, art and society, and about the lasting effect of the Second World War and the desire for reconciliation in contemporary Japanese society. 

Here is a quote by Liza about poetry, and below, one of her poems.
“The grail of poetry, of writing, is self-knowledge. That’s why when we read a good poem, we feel as if the author has spoken directly to our soul, unlocked something previously unseen or hidden"

A Thief Sits Waiting.  By Leza Lowitz

In a corner of the body,

a thief sits waiting

to steal your attention.

Like a pickpocket in the black market,

he hides in the dark alleys of the body,

but the breath is a lantern

rooting him out.

Catch a glimpse of him

as he rounds the corner

to hide in the hip joint,

watch him fly

as he darts between

the shoulder blades,

marvel as he ducks

under the sacrum,

laugh to see him tumble

headfirst into the pelvic bowl.

But once you catch him,

don’t throw him into prison.

Don’t bind him up in rope.

Rather, hang him out in the light,

and praise him effusively.

For when the chase is over

he will have taught you

the many secrets  of the maze,

and you can start to polish

all those precious gems

he’s been guarding.


 


 My mat is my sacred space by  Sue Golden 

 My mat it is my sacred space

as I choose my intentions

surrender to cosmic Grace

and divine intervention

For one hour of time

I devote to my self

place troubles of mine

away on a shelf

up high on a cloud

suspend for an hour

 With my head bowed

I connect with my power

my strength from within

my Prana, my Yin

I let my light shine

embrace the Divine

May the essence and light in me

see the essence and light in you

And we say,

Namaste


 

I wish you a very peaceful International yoga day.

                                                     Namaste 

 

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Dear readers,
I must apologize for my tardiness the last couple of weeks. I have had technology problems, and am finding a weekly commitment of blogging quite taxing, combined with full time work, and balancing life and play. So I am going to start a new routine.. "Blog a Fortnight", which for my American readers, means once every two weeks!
I think I will be able to provide more of quality of content, but intend to keep my blogs short and sweet for your convenience.

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#The Seaweed belongs to the Roane. Thoughts on the #Rights to Seaweed in #Ireland

6/7/2015

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This week's subject is a fishy one! 
I was listening to BBC 4 last week and heard a very interesting program about seaweed. It began with the current controversial and political issues surrounding the collection of seaweed in Ireland, and then expanded into an hour long program about the food and health benefits of the different kinds of seaweed. It addressed the renewed popularity of seaweed in the culinary industry, and extended into the ecological benefits of using seaweed as a fertilizer, and its' health, and cosmetic benefits. In my research, I found part of an ancient poem, written by an anonymous Irish Monk, possibly a native of Donegal, after his move to Iona in the AD563, extolling the virtues of seaweed.

It is allegedly the oldest written record of using seaweed for food. The Monks of Iona collected the seaweed to feed themselves and the poor, and made a sort of porridge out of it, or served it boiled and tossed with butter.

I could not find the entire poem, but have copied a stanza below.

 Buain duilisg

Seal ag buain duilisg do charraig 

seal ag aclaidh
seal ag tabhairt

bhidh do bhoctaibh 
seal i gcaracair.

A while gathering dillisk from the rock 

a while fishing
a while giving food to the poor
a while in my cell


(Ó Madagáin, 1994)

In the news, the traditional rights of local Irish people to collect seaweed along the coast is being threatened and the development of the seaweed industry is effecting the individual's rights to this ancient tradition. The state owned Arramar Teoranta is seeking permission to control the seaweed resources along the west coast of Ireland. In spite of its former rustic image, seaweed has become a valuable resource, and is used as an ingredient in cosmetics, pharmaceuticals, fertilizers, organic food and animal health supplements.The concern that Arramara will shortly be taken over by a private Canadian company has generated growing concern.The time-honored pursuit of gathering seaweed to fertilize small farms, and for cottage industries to be able to continue in their seaweed mercantile activity, is being threatened.

Currently, existing legislation governing the collection of seaweed from the foreshore, has never been properly clarified, and the labour government is legitimately concerned that if the seaweed " rights " were to be privatized, it could seriously impact on the family tradition that has been passed down through generations.
As a wound care nurse, we use Calcium alginate extensively in hospitals to treat open wounds. The seaweed derived felt-like material sits comfortably in a wound, keeping it moist, absorbing exudate, and helping to stop bleeding. Silver is often added as an antimicrobial.


Here is the excerpt from the BIOMARA website, which I found very interesting.


"During the second half of the 20th century extensive uses were found for alginates, made from Seaweed. Sodium alginate is a jelly-like carbohydrate and was used in a variety of ways to hold water, gel, emulsify and stabilize in the food, pharmaceutical and industrial sectors. It was widely incorporated into foods and drinks to thicken drinks, form gels in pies and jellies, and to stabilize pet foods, meringues and ice cream. It improved the head on beer and allowed fast setting of puddings and was used in textile printing to produce sharp edges and to thicken textile pastes. When dried it could coat quality paper to produce a sheen. The dental business used it in toothpastes and as a dental impression powder and it was used to coat tablets in the pharmaceutical industry. Alginate’s properties were useful in cosmetics, paints and medical products and sodium alginate could also be used to form alkali-soluble fibers." 

(copied from Biomara.com)

And now to seaweed poetry!
I include probably the most famous poem ever written about seaweed,


called Seaweed,

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 


Seaweed

When descends on the Atlantic 

The gigantic Storm-wind of the equinox, 
Landward in his wrath he scourges 
The toiling surges,
Laden with seaweed from the rocks:

From Bermuda’s reefs; 

from edges Of sunken ledges,
In some far-off, bright Azore;
From Bahama, and the dashing, 

Silver-flashing
Surges of San Salvador;

From the tumbling surf, that buries
The Orkneyan skerries,
Answering the hoarse Hebrides;
And from the wrecks of ships, 

and drifting Spars, uplifting

On the desolate, rainy seas; -
Ever drifting, drifting, drifting
On the shifting
Currents of the restless main;
Till in sheltered coves, and reaches Of sandy beaches,

All have found repose again.

So when storms of wild emotion

Strike the ocean
Of the poet’s soul, ere long
From each cave and rocky fastness, 

In its vastness,
Floats some fragment of a song:

From the far-off isles enchanted, 

Heaven has planted
With the golden fruit of Truth;
From the flashing surf, 

whose vision Gleams Elysian

In the tropic clime of Youth;
From the strong Will, and the Endeavour 

That for ever
Wrestles with the tides of Fate;
From the wreck of Hopes far-scattered, Tempest-shattered,
Floating waste and desolate; -


Ever drifting, drifting, drifting

On the shifting
Currents of the restless heart;

Till at length in books recorded, 
They, like hoarded
Household words, no more depart.
------------------------------------------------------------

And another poem about collecting Sea Wrack by Moira O'Neille


Sea Wrack

The wrack was dark an’ shiny where it floated in the sea, 

There was no-one in the brown boat but only him an’ me; 
Him to cut the sea wrack, me to mind the boat,
An’ not a word between us the hours we were afloat.


The wet wrack,
The sea wrack,
The wrack was strong to cut.


We laid it on the gray rocks to wither in the sun,
An’ what should call my lad, to sail from Cushendeen 

With a low moon, a full tide, a swell upon the deep, 
Him to sail the old boat, me to fall asleep.

The dry wrack,
The sea wreck,
The wrack was dead so soon.


There’ a fire low upon the rocks to burn the wrack to kelp, 

There’ a boat gone down upon the Moyle, an’ sorra’ one to help! 
Him beneath the salt sea, me upon the shore,
By sunlight or moonlight we’ll lift the wrack no more.


The dark wrack,
The sea wrack,
The wrack may drift ashore.


- by Moira O’Neill, Ireland, probably mid-19th century

I found this subject very interesting, but I also find myself feeling that public awareness of the issues surrounding the privatization of seaweed, ought to be raised. I myself, would be in favor of leaving well alone, and allowing the local people to continue in their time honored traditions. The "Dog in the manger " effects of privitization would not benefit the community at large. It would be like selling local water to Nestle ; or akin to the government controlling the rights to Peat in the production of Scotch.

So I have been motivated to write my own satirical poem about seaweed as property. 

In my poem, I say that the seaweed belongs to the Roane, the Irish word for Selkie.
In folklore the Selkies were Seal Men and Women. They appeared to be normal humans on land, but when in the sea, they changed into seals. 

The word "Roane" is Gaelic for seal.
(I intend to set the poem to music, at some stage; and in fact, I think I should corroborate with my sister, Bridget Cousins, who might like to help me ;)


The Seaweed belongs to the Roane




In ancient times, the Irish folk
Have gathered seaweed from the sea 

Neath salty froth, in rain drenched cloak,
They harvest Neptune's bounty free 
With Selkie's blessings, and decree
 That seaweed belongs to the Roane

The Dillisk, plentiful in surf,
as mermaids comb their locks of weed 

And cast their kelp on sand and turf 
Where seagulls swoop and fight to feed 
A smorgasborg for those who need
Yet the seaweed belongs to the Roane


The fishermen and local folk
Collect the purple Laver crops
To make their Laverbread or "Sloke" 

And sell it in the village shops
As well as healthful oils and soaps
Yet the seaweed belongs to the Roane


Then Canadian pirates sailed in from afar 

To claim the rights of Dulce and Wrack
Their fortunes written in the stars
No heed to local farms, Alack!

"Be gone! You Jacky Tar!"
For the seaweed belongs to the Roane


Then Poseidon stirred, and Neptune rose 

"Let us defend the shores of Eire!"
The Ashrays donned their luminous clothes 

The Sirens raised their bosoms fair
The Mermaids gathered up their hair 

Sang loud to the Selkies, "We declare
The seaweed belongs to the Roane"

The Captain of the pirate ship
Peered though his scope, and looked aghast! 

The ship she began to roll and tip
As Sirens shimmied up her mast
And ghostly Ashrays whispered past
"The seaweed belongs to the Roane"


The Captain was spooked, and he set a new course

The Sirens they beckoned away from the land
The Mermaid s took chase, each on a Seahorse
But the hull caught its rudder and stuck in the sand
And the crew was scooped up by Neptune's great hand! 

And the captain cried out "this is not what I planned! " 
"The seaweed belongs to the Roane"

The Captian turned white, and he fell in a trance 

He commanded his crew to "Heave ho", and set sail 
They reset their compass and headed for France 
Escorted for safety by Moby the Whale
And the crew sang a shanty to retell the tale
Of the Seaweed that belongs to the Roane 

Yay Hey
Of the seaweed that belongs to the Roane 

;)

Have a great week and why don't you try a little seaweed seasoning on your salad! It is delicious! 


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    Susan Golden

    Born, raised and educated in Cornwall, England., Sue moved to America in 1981.
    After many years of life experience, her first bookof poetry for social change, is published. Available on iBooks.
     https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-moon-of-compassion/id892598396?mt=11

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