Collecting bottles, tossing leftovers, taking out the garbage
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This head so gently aches; its bloodshot blur is the morning vision. “Higher” consciousness always takes its toll. Well, I did yoga twice yesterday and only had five scoops of Bob’s Homemade last night. Am I healthy because I didn’t get the flu last week?
Manning demonstrates a rather considerable talent for manipulating vocabulary and for wringing every ounce of nuance possible from a word or phrase.
Prayer is an action, a strong action in a positive direction, a lifeline to pull us out of our own despair.
Through massage my mind relaxes, the energy flows smoothly; tensions which are encased in my body are released, and the love flows through me.
Massage is not the only medical application of the hand. Another useful practice (which can be performed with immediate results) involves the combination of touch with chanting to stimulate and balance various energy centers in the body, inducing a state of centeredness and meditative tranquility.
The Maitri program was developed by Chögyam Trungpa, Rinpoche, a Tibetan Buddhist meditation master. The program is designed to nurture compassion through participation in a meditative community.
If you desire assistance and relief from the concerns, confusions, or pain of your life, select the person who will be most effective in helping you. . . . A brief overview of a few psychotherapeutic orientations follows.
The meaning of life is usually contained in an awareness and appreciation of the process of life. The pleasure that I increasingly experience gives me the strength and trust to know I am moving through moments in the right way.
We are living in the exaggerations of our memories of the future. These are HISTORICAL TIMES.
Throughout history plants have been the primary medicine used to treat physical and psychological illness. Many people are returning to nature as their primary healer, finding the approach of Western medicine often ineffective and expensive.
So it is that my attention is drawn to Ronald Reagan and George Wallace as they go through their spirited bicentennial hustles in an effort to become top banana.
Poetry, like all the arts, has taken a turn toward the diffuse since World War 2. By diffuse, I mean the opposite of the exactness that went into the work of the masters, the pointedness of a strong sensibility.
One legend gives the credit to Kaldi, a goatherd in Ethiopia. One day in 850 A.D. Kaldi noticed his goats, after feeding on the berries of a certain evergreen bush, began to act strangely. Enough so to make Kaldi try the beans himself.
There’s a cool, shady corner in the kitchen. That’s where I raise a simple crop that’s not dependent on sparse rain clouds or my depleted compost pile. Sprouts: lentils and alfalfa are best. Mung beans are pretty good, soy beans, too.
Is there a right way to eat? Is there a wrong way to write about it? I’ll take the second question first. I’ve got an apple in one hand, a pen in the other, and my mouth is moving as fast as my mind. Is this as bad as talking with your mouth full, or is it the boldest kind of personal journalism?
The rain has run me out of the garden where I was trying to catch up on my weeding, and into the house, to this. Another written thing.
It is a common misconception that we are more healthy than our great grandparents due to progress in the medical profession. For example, the epidemic of tooth decay (the most prevalent form of all human diseases) is relatively recent and is a clear indication of our physical degeneration.
Being well, what can we call it? Freedom from physical disturbance, from illness, or from psychological tensions? Is it freedom from illusion and self-imposed limitation? Well-being probably encompasses all of these interrelated conditions as well as others whose reality is unmet as of yet.
I was looking up monasteries in the yellow pages when she knocked. I was living at this time in Jersey City, N.J., on top of a meat market. It was the dingiest of places. I got up from my fleabitten couch. I opened the door to a dazzling darkhaired woman.
It was a dismally beautiful afternoon. In fact, it was so beautiful that Samantha wondered if it would ever end. The trees were so green, the light green that only early spring can offer.