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Yoga Pose Myths: It's About Time!
Category: Vampyrian News

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VnHi7Iu8_8

I have long been hesitant to take up much of anything of yoga because something in me said that the information I had was seriously lacking. All the references I found were of the attitude that the spiritual aspects of yoga was all about work and energy. I could just go for a walk for that and have found a long walk to be very beneficial to my spirituality. Why contort my body into odd shapes? Is there really no meaning beyond working up a sweat?

Then of course there is the cost. Get this special diet food. Get the fancy clothing. Use the right essential oils. Get the right crystals. But WHY? Where is the spiritual significance? And who decided it? When did they decide it? It often turned out that much of what I 'need' for the practice was entirely new age with very little explanation. Modern myth is fine, but not when it lacks any symbolism or meaning beyond how much money you spend. I could just give my loose change to the homeless and do more for the world and my sense of well being.

Thankfully, Alanna has taken the time to clear some things up. In addition to the presentation I included a link for, she has made a number of YouTube posts that focus on the stories behind the poses. She's given the origins a great deal of study and shared her work. Now I and anyone else can hit up her YouTube channel and learn more about the WHY of yoga instead of the how.

Those interested in adding yoga to their lives will still need to take the time to learn about posture and alignments. There is an undeniable element of physical work involved in this form of spirituality. Nobody will do your yoga poses for you. However this offers more meaning to motions that are detailed in many books, classes, and videos for those of us who would like to know WHY.

Upcycling and Organization
Category: Member Blogs

In the house I grew up in, I developed the attitude that recycling was for organized people, and we weren't even close as a family. Seem a bit apathetic to the planet? When you find yourself sifting through several feet of clutter interspersed with rot and bugs just to locate the carpet color for the first time in months you may feel differently. After all, the paper, t-shirt, cat vomit, and the apples that fell off the table are already composting in the kitchen, so maybe they'll help the decay process in the dump. The bio-hazards in the fridge left me disinclined to wash plastic, glass and metal when I just wanted to get the vile things out of the house.

Yes, I literally had to move out to learn how to live in a relatively organized environment.

Without the piles of mystery hiding the floor, I learned how to keep up on the recycling wash and sort process. I'm still working on dusting, and am not as orderly as I would like to be. A big part of the problem is the crafty and creative side of the family that has ALL members wanting to play with any DIY post we find. Minimizing can be hard work when you know how to build something, but I've slowly learned time management and prioritizing. It's taken years.

It's still a war with myself to not become my mother.

Despite all this, the coffee canisters and the yogurt tubs with their nice tight lids just looked too potentially usefully for me to scrap. Most of them could not be recycled in our area anyway, but what in the world was I going to do with those?

Mom is still mom. She still keeps stopping by with more rye flour. "I can't find it all so you must be low." More brown rice. "I couldn't find it so you must be out." More multicolored lentil beans. "I wanted the pink for dinner." More red whole wheat." I was sure It was almost gone." Now if I ACTUALY cooked with any of this stuff, it would be thoughtful, BUT I DON'T, so it makes it that much harder to find my white whole wheat, forbidden black short grain rice, almond meal, and oat flour in the collection of dry goods.

So now I have a project. All those empty yogurt tubs are getting spray painted for neat labeling. Bob's Red Mill flours may give me some nice whole grain options, but the bags were not designed for a baker to measure out of. The tubs are big enough for me to level off a cup over. The larger quantity stuff will be coming out of zip lock bags and moving to coffee canisters with more neat labeling, including water to grain and cooking time notations for my rices. While yes, it's nice to have a variety of seeds, beans, and grains to work with, it's useless if I can't make a quick check of supplies before testing a new recipe, and now I found a solution.

Some of my poems
Category: Member Blogs

Note: These poems are all my own orignial work.† Some of them have been published in other places, so please do not share my work with anyone else without my permission.† Thank you and I hope that you enjoy them.

~Darkling

______________________________

"Departed"

Whisper softly to me, cradled in the night.

Sweet songs of decadence filter out the light.

Cold death and hollow boxes,

Hidden beneath the ground.

Dancing madly, shrouded in darkness,

Tiny feet make not a sound.

Heavy bodies piled high,

Left in heaps, too torn to die.

Blood escapes in crimson pools.

The ground shimmers with ruby jewels.

Ghosts of decades past emerge,

As creatures of the night converge.

A morbid sound then fills the air,

Though not a sound the living hear.

A black cloaked man with ashen face,

Steps slowly forward to set the pace.

Skeletal maids in cobwebbed gowns,

Step from the shadows in great abounds.

Not a corpse, or soul yet to transcend,

At this macabre dance, does not attend.

A hand stretched forth with shrunken flesh,

The aggregation becomes enmeshed,

And welcomes new, a life expend,

To somber arms, an all-pervading end.

Bare feet upon the graveyard soil,

Our newly dead does release the mortal coil.

And to this one is then endowed,

Eternityís garb, a gossamer shroud.

Pulled against deathís comforting breast,

Our decedent is now laid to rest.

The moon shines down from a starry sky,

The dancers depart as the end draws nigh.

Passing through, with a mournful song,

Dead, or lost, but never gone.

____________________________________________________

"Arielle"

She walked alone
beneath the moon,
in a gown of emerald silk...
Her hair was wound,
in a crimson crown
and her skin was
made of milk...

Her slippered feet moved
along the silent, sand stone way...
She walked among the garden flowers,
as she eagerly awaited day...

She rested now upon a stone,
set near a lonely shed,
which had never known the living,
for it only housed the dead...

There is no peace to be had
in a garden so full of sorrow...
So silently, in darkness,
she waits until tomorrow...

Shadows moving throughout the night
desperately she prayers for light...

Thoughts of things left undone,
dreams of joys that
never come...

faceless specters haunt her mind,
memories from a forgotten time...

Feverish dreams of forlorn youth,
Nightmares stirring forgotten truth...

The garden glows in the moonlit air,
as she recalls he, who once stood there...

Looking down upon a covered hole,
mourning a child that sleeps below...

Amber light approaches, as the
dark of night is done...

The lady lifts her face to the horizon,
as she tearfully greets the sun...

Her ghost pale flesh ignited,
as the suns sharp rays bite her skin...

What once was is gone now;
our lady shall not weep again...

Crimson tears will fall no more,
as the flames of day embrace her...

She glimpses loves true face,
in a distant place,
as the one who went before,
awaits her...

What once had been is gone,
no more pain of need or lust...

Sweet release has finally found her,
as Lady Arielle, has gone to dust.

_________________________________________________

"My secret place"

Thereís a place I go to be alone

Where my friends all sleep beneath silent stone

Where the grass is brown and the trees forebode

Where no one ages though all are old

A place where we remain opaque

A place you sleep but never wake

A place I come to vent my fear

Although I know no one can hear

A place where I feel that I belong

Among those who are long since gone

A place where Iíll not be mocked, or turned away

A place where I think I would like to stay

This place is where Iím at my best

A place where I can finally rest

Acceptance here is what I crave

This place is where Iíll make my grave

And hope one day Iíll see

That those who live will visit me

And not forget the love Iíve shown

To those I never met but have always known

But if you never come to see my stone

Do not feel bad for Iím not alone

Iíll be just one more within this place

A forgotten name, a forgotten face

And in this place where I come to roam

Is where Iíve finally found my home


________________________________________________________

"A Brighter Darkness"

A brighter darkness corrupts me
Resentment grows within my mind
I cannot shake this feeling washing over me
I think I'm running out of time.

Sorrow fuels my hatred
It's so damn dark now I cannot see,
I want to scream in rage and claw my way
Out of the darkness...
What's this power taking hold of me?

I sleep away the hours,
Afraid to face the coming day.
My heart can't take this aggravation,
I don't know what more to say.

Life's become so overwhelming,
There's so much I'm supposed to be...
I have enough to fucking deal with,
so don't you put your shit on me!

I'm falling fast into the darkness
That has seeped into my heart.
The dark of night embraces me,
As your quiet animosity is slowly
Ripping me apart.

The chaos that you leave behind surrounds me
There is nothing more that I can do.
I cannot sink into your darkness,
Despair has placed its icy hands on you.

I will concede to nothing,
No one can ever take control of me.
I am a man of careful deliberation,
A master of my own destiny.

I see the storm that now approaches,
Though itís something I know I cannot fight...
Still, I will find a brighter darkness,
And one day walk into the light.

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