Monday, 27 February 2017

Love Thy Belly: A Mindfulness Practice


Via Eileen Daley
on Jul 24, 2016
Eleazar Fuentes/Flickr https://www.flickr.com/photos/wet-hot-lips/7982091486/get elephant's newsletter

I remember walking past my mirror and catching sight of it. It stared back at me, and after gazing at it for quite some time, it began to resemble a face.

Yep, my belly looked like a face. My top two rolls resembled two closed eyes, and the bottom looked like a smile; the belly-button, a nose.
There was my belly, smiling at me. I glared back at it with resentment. As far back as I can remember, I’ve had a stomach. (No way, you have a stomach?!) Okay, I mean a protruding, “pudgy” stomach. One with rolls that are thick and squishy and not big fans of crunches or sit-ups. One with skin folds that refuse to disappear, no matter how much I’ve begged and pleaded, or pushup-ed and burpee-d my way through fitness classes.
For years and years, my belly was my enemy. I never accepted my weight, either. I was so stuck on what healthy “should” look like, never once considering what healthy might feel like to me. I struggled greatly with my image and constantly worried about how others perceived me. “If I could just have a flat stomach, my problems would be solved! Why can’t I look like so and so, and have a smaller stomach like her?!”
My belly was the bane of my existence. My body image was incredibly skewed.
But I continued to view it the same way. Day after day, I let my middle control my emotions, thoughts, and feelings as though it were a separate entity from my body. Often, I wanted to escape it. As though my body weren’t whole. As though I wasn’t normal. This led to a harmful cycle of constantly waiting for a new beginning. I was always waiting for the “next day” to eat healthier, to view my body differently, to start over. I was proficient at starting over. I internally battled with the external image of my body, not fully understanding how interrelated the two actually are.
I remember walking aimlessly around New York City, silently screaming on the corner of Hudson and West 11thstreet, pleading for some kind of connection with others. I felt hopeless and desperate because I couldn’t better my body image, let alone come to some kind of compromise with meal times-and my rising abdomen. I truly felt like food was my open wound, incapable of being healed. My belly: the Band-Aid that wouldn’t stick.
It was around that time when I ventured over to a yoga class and began to practice again. I hadn’t in years. My interest in wanting to better my body image took me from Asana practice to exploring meditation and mindfulness, to reading up on inspirational authors and speakers like Pema Chödrön, Liz Gilbert, and the Dalai Lama. I decided to take one of Chödrön’s courses online and I heard her say this
:

“We are equally hooked by pleasant or unpleasant [experiences]. Continually caught in the [cycle] of hope and fear. When you notice you’re hooked, go beyond hope and fear, pleasure and pain, and choose a fresh alternative. 
Then say to yourself, over and over again, even shout it out loud until you believe it: I think that what I know is true, but I will entertain that it is fiction.”
Boom. When I heard her say this aloud, bells went off in my mind, pianos played, angels sang, champagne bottles popped, and my belly rumbled. So this means I don’t have to think about my stomach the way that I always do? There’s another option? A fresh alternative? What?!
Yes. Yes, indeed. By viewing my body through the lens of a beginner’s mind, I’d be able to choose a fresh alternative to the same self-deprecating ways I’d always perceived my body. This allowed for the spaciousness to view my midriff as something different, and in a non-judgmental way. Also, in doing so, I am not escaping how I feel about my belly, but rather, I am choosing to be aware of what is there, and not judge it.
Dr. Jon Kabat-Zinn, founding Executive Director of the Center for Mindfulness in Medicine, Health Care, and Society at the University of Massachusetts Medical School, says that “Our minds are full of our expertise, but it leaves us without any realm for new possibilities.” Instead of staying enemies with our “hated” body part, why not choose a fresh alternative and shake hands with it? Be curious about it? Explore it? Maybe even befriend it?
Since listening to Chödrön’s brilliant talk, I’ve developed a daily mindfulness practice that has allowed my stomach to feel recognized and met in a way that it has not otherwise experienced. This has benefited my body image in tremendous ways and been profoundly healing for my psyche!

Here is a “Body Awareness Practice” that has greatly helped me in my journey with self-love:

Close your eyes, or soften your gaze, looking down the tip of your nose. Think about an area of your body that you tend to want to change, one that you’ve heard yourself say is a “problem area.”
Take three deep breaths at your own pace, and then bring your awareness to that portion of your body. If it is available to you, place one hand on that area, and send your breath there. Allow the breath to flow naturally without controlling it.
Think about how that part of your body physically feels. Focusing on the physical sensation of that body part, versus your judgements (opinions) about it.
Do you notice a slight change in temperature beneath your hand, on the chosen area? Are there any sensations of feeling beneath the skin? Do you notice the muscles or bones that lie there? Can you feel your breath moving through that part of the body? Notice what is there to notice, without judgement, being interested, curious, and drawing yourself into the experience of exploring your body part without putting a label on it (skinny/fat/strong/weak).
Now take three deep breaths at your own pace. Notice the breath moving through the chosen area of focus.
Repeat to yourself three times: “I believe that what I know is true, but I will entertain that it is fiction.”

Relephant Read: 

The Healing Potential of Ashtanga Yoga.

~
Author: Eileen Daley
Image: Eleazar Fuentes/Flickr
Apprentice Editor: Tess Drudy; Editor: Emily Bartran


Auntie Crae’s Plantation Chews


 
Prep time
Cook time
Total time
 
These flourless cookies look quite innocent but they are anything but! Crunchy and chewy at the same time with an irresistible caramel flavour. It is impossible to eat just one.
Author: 
Recipe type: Cookies
Serves: Makes 2½ to 3 dozen
Ingredients
  • ½ cup margarine
  • 2 ¼ cups brown sugar
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • 4 cups cornflakes, NOT crushed
  • 1 ¼ cups sweetened flaked coconut
  • 1 ½ cups walnut crumbs
Instructions
  1. Cream margarine and sugar until very fluffy.
  2. Add eggs and vanilla and mix until incorporated.
  3. Add dry ingredients and beat on high speed in mixer for 12 - 14 minutes. Scrape bowl often.
  4. Scoop out cookies (a little smaller than a ping pong ball) and place on cookie sheet that is either Teflon coated or lined with parchment paper. Parchment (silicone) paper is your best choice. Do not grease pan.
  5. Flatten cookies with finger tips that are slightly moistened. The moisture will prevent your fingers from sticking to dough as you flatten the cookie dough.
  6. Bake at about 350 F for 6 minutes. Rotate pan (front to back) to distribute heat and then bake a further 6 minutes. Remove from oven and leave on pan until stiff enough to handle. They will be very soft when they first come out of the oven.
  7. You may need to alter the baking time and temperature of your oven if you do not get a satisfactory result. No two ovens bake the same, even if you have clones.
Notes
I have used salted butter successfully in place of the margarine.
A gluten free version is possible if you use gluten free corn flakes.
Finely ground pecans instead of walnuts are also excellent in this recipe.



Cleaning and dogs




Cleaning






Yield: about 17 cookies
CHOCOLATE CHIP MOCHA COOKIES




Deliciously soft, thick, and chewy chocolate cookies infused with coffee and studded with chocolate chunks. No chilling required!


Ingredients
1 and 3/4 cups (218g) plain/all-purpose flour
1/4 cup (25g) cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons cornflour/cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (115g) unsalted butter, melted
1/2 cup (100g) caster/granulated sugar
1/4 cup (50g) light brown sugar
1 large egg
4 tablespoons instant coffee granules
1 tablespoon hot water
1 cup (175g) chocolate chips, or chunks (and some extra for topping)

Instructions

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F/Gas 4, and line a baking tray with parchment paper, or a silicone mat. Set aside.
Whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, cornflour, salt, and 2 tablespoons of instant coffee granules. Set aside.
Whisk together the butter and sugars until combined. Add the egg, and mix until combined. Dissolve the remaining 2 tablespoons of instant coffee granules in 1 tablespoon of hot water, then add to the wet ingredients, and mix until combined. Add the dry ingredients, and mix until just combined. Fold in the chocolate chips.
Roll the dough into 1.5oz balls, about 17 balls, place on the prepared baking tray, and press the extra chocolate chips on top. Bake for 10 - 12 minutes. Do not over-bake. Allow to cool on the baking tray for 5 - 10 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.

Notes


Cookies stay fresh covered at room temperature for up to 1 week.

Cookie dough balls can be kept in the fridge for up to 5 days, or frozen for up to 3 months. Bake from frozen for an extra minute.



Milk Chocolate Fudge
Milk Chocolate Fudge
Ingredients
  • 3 cups Milk Chocolate chips (you can use semi sweet also)
  • 1 can sweetened condensed milk (14 ounce)
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 to 1 cup pecans (or other favorite nut)
  • 2 teaspoons vanilla
Instructions

  1. Line an 8 or 9 inch square pan with foil. Butter foil and set aside.
  2. In a medium heavy saucepan, melt chocolate chips with milk and salt. Once creamy and smooth, remove from heat, add in vanilla and nuts.
  3. Pour into prepared pan, Chill in refrigerator for 3-4 hours before cutting into squares. For best freshness store in air tight container in refrigerator.


Ophelia's Flowers


Shakespeare used flowers to symbolically illustrate his ideas. In the play The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, we are introduced to Ophelia. Hamlet has killed Ophelia's father, and she expresses her grief through the symbolism of flowers.
In her seemingly mad state of mind (Act IV, Scene V), Ophelia passed out various flowers, which indirectly communicated her intent to the King and court.
The key to the following passage is important not only for the deeper, symbolic meaning of the flowers, but their message to the recipients:
"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,
love, remember, and there is pansies. That's for thoughts […]. There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue
for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with
a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
some violets, but they withered all when my father died."
Here are the meanings of Ophelia's flowers:
Rosemary (Rosemarinus officinalis): "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance," a reminder to remember and be faithful. Ophelia gave rosemary to her brother, Laretes, to remind him to remember what happened to their father and discover who killed him.
Pansy (Viola tricolor): "And there is pansies, that's for thoughts," a symbol of thoughtfulness and faithfulness. Given to Laretes, referring back to his earlier thoughts on Hamlet's love for Ophelia.
Fennel (Foeniculum vulgare): "There's fennel for you," a symbol of flattery. This Ophelia gave to Claudius as an emblem of the flattery and deceit shown to politicians.
Columbine (Aquilegia vulgaris): "... and columbines," representing folly, forsaken lovers and adultery. She gave this symbol of ingratitude and infidelity in love to the king.
Rue (Ruta graveolens): "There's rue for you," a bitter herb that symbolizes sorrow, repentance, adultery and everlasting suffering. Gertrude, the queen receives some, and Ophelia takes some for herself.
English Daisy (Bellis perenis): "There's a daisy," symbolizing innocence. Here, the daisy represents the loss of innocence, for Ophelia puts it back.
Sweet Violet (Viola odorata): "I would give you some violets," a symbol of faithfulness and fidelity, and connected to death. Ophelia addresses the king and queen's faithfulness and integrity with this flower.
We can better appreciate Ophelia's courage and story when we see how important flower symbolism is in the play.
References include Kate Greenaway's Language of Flowers and Jessica Kerr's Shakespeare's Flowers.
[Image: Ophelia (1889) by John William Waterhouse (1849-1917). This work is in the public domain.]


The Smart Witch

· 
Words of Wisdom: Time
“The saddest thing is to be a minute to someone,
when you've made them your eternity.”
- Sanober Khan
[Image: The art of Lauri Blank. Visit this talented artist at: http://blankstudio.com.]

Dogs

Found on another blog......

Alexander says:
A story told by some Native American peoples is that the Great Spirit decided to divide
the worlds of animals and man.
He gathered all the living beings on a great plain and drew a line in the dirt.
On one side of the line stood man and on the other side stood all of the animals of the earth.
When that line began to open up into a great canyon and at the last moment before
it became too great to cross, the dog jumped over and stood by man.
~~Unknown


Saturday, 25 February 2017

24 profoundly beautiful words that describe nature and landscapes

Words about nature
CC BY 2.0 Dan Cook/Flickr
From aquabob to zawn, writer Robert Macfarlane's collection of unusual, achingly poetic words for nature creates a lexicon we all can learn from.
Eight years ago, nature writer extraordinaire Robert Macfarlane discovered that the latest edition of the Oxford Junior Dictionary was missing a few things. Oxford University Press confirmed that indeed, a list of words had been removed; words that the publisher felt were no longer relevant to a modern-day childhood. So goodbye to acorn, adder, ash, and beech. Farewell to bluebell, buttercup, catkin, and conker. Adios cowslip, cygnet, dandelion, fern, hazel, and heather. And no more heron, ivy, kingfisher, lark, mistletoe, nectar, newt, otter, pasture and willow. And in their place came the new kids on the block, words like blog, broadband, bullet-point, celebrity, chatroom, committee, cut-and-paste, MP3 player and voice-mail.
Woe is the world of words.
But inspired by the culling and in combination with a lifetime of collecting terms about place, Macfarlane set out to counter the trend by creating a glossary of his own.
“We lack a Terra Britannica, as it were: a gathering of terms for the land and its weathers,” he recently wrote in a beautiful essay in The Guardian, “– terms used by crofters, fishermen, farmers, sailors, scientists, miners, climbers, soldiers, shepherds, poets, walkers and unrecorded others for whom particularised ways of describing place have been vital to everyday practice and perception.”
And thus his book, Landmarks, was born. A field guide of sorts to the language of nature – an ode to the places afforded to us by Mother Nature – which includes thousands of remarkable words used in England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales to describe land, nature and weather.
The words came from dozens of languages, he explains, dialects, sub-dialects and specialist vocabularies: from Unst to the Lizard, from Pembrokeshire to Norfolk; from Norn and Old English, Anglo-Romani, Cornish, Welsh, Irish, Gaelic, Orcadian, Shetlandic and Doric, and numerous regional versions of English, through to Jérriais, the dialect of Norman still spoken on the island of Jersey.
“I have long been fascinated by the relations of language and landscape – by the power of strong style and single words to shape our senses of place,” he writes. Of the thousands of wonderful words included in the book, here are some that warranted mention in Macfarlane’s essay.
Afèith: A Gaelic word describing a fine vein-like watercourse running through peat, often dry in the summer.
Ammil: A Devon term for the thin film of ice that lacquers all leaves, twigs and grass blades when a freeze follows a partial thaw, and that in sunlight can cause a whole landscape to glitter.
Aquabob: A variant English term for icicle in Kent.
Arête: A sharp-edged mountain ridge, often between two glacier-carved corries.
Caochan: Gaelic for a slender moor-stream obscured by vegetation such that it is virtually hidden from sight.
Clinkerbell: A variant English term for icicle in Hampshire.
Crizzle: Northamptonshire dialect verb for the freezing of water that evokes the sound of a natural activity too slow for human hearing to detect.
Daggler: Another variant English term for icicle in Hampshire.
Eit: In Gaelic, a word that refers to the practice of placing quartz stones in streams so that they sparkle in moonlight and thereby attract salmon in the late summer and autumn.
Feadan: A Gaelic word describing a small stream running from a moorland loch.
Goldfoil: Coined by the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins, describing a sky lit by lightning in “zigzag dints and creasings.”
Honeyfur: A five-year-old girl’s creation to describe the soft seeds of grasses pinched between fingertips.
Ickle: A variant English term for icicle in Yorkshire.
Landskein: A term coined by a painter in the Western Isles referring to the braid of blue horizon lines on a hazy day.
Pirr: A Shetlandic word meaning a light breath of wind, such as will make a cat’s paw on the water.
Rionnach maoimmeans: A Gaelic word referring to the shadows cast on the moorland by clouds moving across the sky on a bright and windy day.
Shivelight: A word created by poet Gerard Manley Hopkins for the lances of sunshine that pierce the canopy of a wood.
Shuckle: A variant English term for icicle in Cumbria.
Smeuse: An English dialect noun for the gap in the base of a hedge made by the regular passage of a small animal.
Tankle: A variant English term for icicle in Durham.
Teine biorach: A Gaelic term meaning the flame or will-o’-the-wisp that runs on top of heather when the moor burns during the summer.
Ungive: In Northamptonshire and East Anglia, to thaw.
Zawn: A Cornish term for a wave-smashed chasm in a cliff.
Zwer: The onomatopoeic term for the sound made by a covey of partridges taking flight.
"There are experiences of landscape that will always resist articulation, and of which words offer only a distant echo. Nature will not name itself. Granite doesn’t self-identify as igneous. Light has no grammar. Language is always late for its subject," Macfarlane says. "But we are and always have been name-callers, christeners."
"Words are grained into our landscapes," he adds, "and landscapes grained into our words."