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gearhawk-studios · 4 years ago

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Genshin Impact: Bloodlines

Prologue Act 1: A Bard’s Compassion

It was a cold and lonely wind that blew through the rolling green plains of Mondstadt. The green-capped bard knew this wind well, having wandered wherever the wind would carry him. On this night, it appeared to take him along the shores of Cider Lake, heading up north towards ruins empty of everything but bad memories. Despite being well-versed in the ways of Anemo, the bard still didn’t know everything about this one of the seven elements that made up Teyvat. He almost preferred it that way, how could one not appreciate the wonder of the world if it was entirely known?

The night was cool, a telling sign autumn was approaching rapidly and the end of grape harvests was upon the citizens of Mondstadt. This only made the bard smirk, he knew very well that this would speed up production of the many flavors of wine that this great nation was known for. He would need to prepare a new set of ballads to perform at Master Crepus’ bar, if he had a chance to sample the newest batch of dandelion wine. With this thought in mind, the bard began to strum the strings on his wooden lyre, beginning to concoct melodies to commit to memory.

Soft tones danced with the lonely wind, giving the gales a sense of companionship as they swirled around the lone musician. A bemused smile crossed the bard’s lips as he began to hum, letting the breeze carry his footsteps as the song began to take on a life of its own. Rising crescendos, long held notes… it was all a beautiful melody that made the bard dance and twirl, chuckling to himself as he hummed the tone.

Then, the sound of a heart wrenching sob pierced through the melody.

Stopping at once, the bard held his breath. Silence was his only answer. He frowned to himself, scratching his head. Had he been imagining it? Simply shrugging to himself, the bard once again began to strum on his lyre only to hear the cries again. Now certain of what he heard, the bard looked around him. All that were his company were the worn path, stones and bushes. The bard strained his ears, his eyes closed. Then, he heard it once more, and much clearer.

The cries of a human.

Turning his attention to a large bush near the lake’s edge, the bard carefully approached it. The dark sage leaves rustled, and the cries became whimpers as the musical poet approached. Gingerly, the bard moved aside the small branches and caught his breath. Hidden in the darkness of this shrub was a handwoven basket, a soft wool blanket wrapping up what appeared to be the source of the noise. A baby boy, no more than a week old.

Having seen the bard’s face, the baby ceased its cries and instead sniffled as it gazed on the bard’s face with the stormiest gray eyes the bard had seen in quite some time. There was only a tuft of dark blonde hair atop the babe’s head, and he clutched on to the blanket as he looked at the bard in wonder. Sorrow fell over the bard, but he quickly hid it with a kind and friendly smile, “And just what do we have hiding here?”

The joking tone made the baby boy laugh, cooing in delight as if he had not been crying mere moments ago. A small chuckle escaped the bard’s lips as he reached down and slowly removed the basket from its leafy facade. Lifting the basket up, he saw the young boy look at him with absolute admiration and glee. Smiling, the bard looked around, “Any idea where your parents might be, little adventurer?”

A small laugh was the baby’s only reply. The bard shook his head, of course the baby didn’t know. He looked around more for any signs of adults, but found none. Frowning at this, the bard turned his attention to the child. The infant had let go of the blanket and reached out to one of the bard’s braids, trying to grasp it in his very small hands.

“Curious little one, aren’t ya?” The bard sighed, using his finger as a replacement for his braid.

When the child grasped his finger, a jolt of power rushed through the bard’s body. The wind, for a moment, flourished around him and erupted in a powerful gust. The child laughed, amused by the wind and the fluttering of the bard’s clothes and hair. However, the bard was not laughing. His bright blue-green eyes were wide, his heart racing. What in the world was that just now?

Calling upon powers he had not used for quite some time, the bard gazed into the heart of this baby boy. He listened to the melodies and echoes of this new child’s soul, the gusts generated by this young one’s heart. At first, he heard the sweet tunes of innocence and wonder as was common in a new child. But then, faintly, he heard it. The deep chords of something slumbering in the child. Ancient, powerful… something that reminded the bard of his own children.

“Just what are you doing alone, without your mom and dad?” The bard asked aloud in a whisper, a tear in the corner of his eye as he looked down at this innocent life.

The baby, noticing the tear in the bard’s eye, began to sniffle and reach out to him. He clung on to the sleeve of the bard, pulling with what little strength he had to bring the bard that much closer and hug him. Taken aback, the bard quelled his tears and turned his attention away from the past to the here and now. He examined this strange child, and it became clear that this child’s parents were nowhere near here. Looking around, the bard searched for an answer to this current situation.

Across the water, he saw the small island where the city of Mondstadt resided, its high stone walls hiding most of the city except for the grand cathedral and the three sets of rotating blades of the windmills silhouetted against the night sky. The bard’s eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face. If anyone would know what to do with this child, Grand Master Varka would have the greatest idea than this poor bard. The green Vision that hung from the bard’s hip began to cast a seafoam glow, and the bard called upon the all too familiar element of Anemo. Gales of wind gathered around his feet, and the musical poet wrapped his arms tightly around the basket. He looked down to the baby and smiled, “Hang on.”

With a blast of powerful wind, the bard dashed at great speeds. The baby laughed, grasping on to the bard’s sleeve and squealing in excitement at the rushing wind and the scenery blurring by them. Within a few seconds, the bard was at the cobblestone bridge that led to Mondstadt’s gates. No guards stood at the entrance, leaving the front of the city unguarded. The bard frowned, while it made it easy for him to remain unseen this complicated the matter of passing off the child to more responsible individuals. Gazing down at the child, the bard glimpsed the lyre in his hands and cracked a mischievous grin.

Sneaking to the gate, the bard placed the basket containing the child on the ground. The child, looking confused a moment, gazed up at the poet. He smiled and placed a finger to his lips. Almost as if he understood, the baby remained silent and watched as the bard’s Vision glowed again. Wind carried the bard upwards, landing atop the walls of Mondstadt. Clearing his throat, the bard began to sing as he strummed a tune on his lyre.

I call into the night

To one who will answer my plight

Let the words of song carry

To begin a life fated to be extraordinary

A breeze floated by the bard, the tone almost becoming visible on the stream of air as it blew through Mondstadt. Even from his height, the bard could see some turn, as if hearing the tune but wondering if it was real.

A child, lone and afraid

Yearns for compassion to be gained

One without the love of a mother

One without the guidance of a father

The melody danced through the cobble streets, twirling around the fountain in the plaza as it began to spread out and search for someone to listen.

Hear their cry, hear their sorrow

Will you give them a chance at tomorrow?

Will you welcome this stranger?

Will you protect this soul from danger?

The hymn found its way into the ear of a young man and his partner, their night stroll interrupted as they listened to the tune. To the woman, a radiant and elegant lady, grasped at her heart, the melody brought images of the child at the gate, alone and the cries entering her mind with tears of her own brimming. However, the man grasped the woman’s hand tighter. His heart tightened, his mind focused. The image of the child at the gate was clear in his mind. Looking at each other, the man and woman nodded wordlessly and made their way to the gates.

Give this soul a home

Give this innocent a life to call his own

Let the world rejoice

For you have made a noble choice

The bard caught the couple hurrying through the plaza and was surprised. Not who he expected the melody to beckon, but then again… who was he to question the hearts of mortals? The couple found the child, the baby looking at the woman with wide eyes as she scooped him up from the basket. The man looked around, trying to find any adult just as the bard had.

Love is always boundless

To raise another is selfless

Raise this one together

For you are a new family, together

Looking down, the bard saw the woman and man gazing at the child in the woman’s arms. Their worry melting away into pure love, adoration for this tiny soul. Smiling with a tear in his eye, the bard concluded his song as the couple walked away.

Thus begins a new tale

A story I will forever regale

Of a child most brilliant

With the blood of powers ancient...

#genshin impact #fanfic #genshin venti #genshin fanfic #original character

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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 5 years ago

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Chapter 37: Tension

Becoming the Mask

Stricklander managed to avoid mentioning there was a Janus Order base in Arcadia when he promised to retrieve Gunmar's Eye. Jim was pretty sure Blinky and AAARRRGGHH had worked it out for themselves, but the troll adults would also hopefully have the sense not to seek it out, while the human children could not be trusted to make such a judgement call.

It still burned the young Changeling sometimes, realizing he hadn't noticed he was being followed.

Everyone started looking through the cartography and geography texts to create a list of most likely mountains where the Birthstone would be hidden.

"Perhaps Mount Atlas," suggested Stricklander. Jim half-laughed. Everyone else looked at them in confusion.

"He's, ah, called me Atlas a few times," Jim explained, ducking his head over a guidebook of Banff National Park. Oldest national park in Canada, eh?

After a few minutes, Blinky got up. "There is something Master Jim and I need to discuss privately. The rest of you should continue the search."

He pulled the Trollhunter into the next room. Jim brought the guidebook with him, mostly so he'd have something to do with his hands. He couldn't fidget with the Amulet while he was armoured up.

"To begin with, Master Jim, I must apologize."

"… For … what?" The Changeling braced himself, in case his trainer was about to say 'this' and begin a surprise attack.

"You are a troll. I should never have implied otherwise. I am … deeply sorry, and hope you can forgive me."

Jim was not sure how to respond to that. He was still a little angry about Blinky's immediate denial upon learning Jim was a troll. He was glad for the apology – he hadn't expected it, had thought at best that it would just never be brought up again – but he didn't know if he was ready to accept it yet.

Blinky had paused, but continued speaking, sparing Jim the need to sort out his feelings and make a decision right away.

"As a troll, there are certain things you have a right and responsibility to know about your own biology. Such as where troll babies come from."

Uh-oh. If Blinky really did remember every "we'll come back to that later" point of tonight, Jim was in for a lot of awkward discussions he'd thought he had managed to dodge.

"I kind of assumed the gronk-nuks were involved?" Jim sat down uncertainly on a low bookcase. This room didn't have chairs.

Blinky cleared his throat. "Trolls biologically have two parents. Each parent removes a fragment of their living stone – yes, from the gronk-nuks – and they join the facets together to form one. The seed crystal is then implanted into a birthstone, where the whelp grows and develops over the next thirty years before emerging."

"So … trolls kind of hatch from eggs?" Jim scratched the side of his head, just under the lip of his helmet. "Externally fertilized eggs, like how some kinds of fish do it. Can any kind of rock be a birthstone?"

"Heartstone is ideal. Vendel told you, I believe, that it can be harvested for many purposes?"

Jim nodded.

"But overharvesting would probably kill it," the Changeling speculated, "which is part of why trolls have a low birthrate? So the population stays within what the Heartstone can sustain?"

That explained why the Gumm-Gumms hadn't procreated in the Darklands … Jim remembered hearing Dictatious say that Gunmar's throne was carved into a Heartstone, but its glow hadn't felt anything like the one in Trollmarket, so he doubted that was really the case.

"The population is at a low ebb while communities recover or establish themselves after the war," said Blinky. "Centuries of having whelps snatched away made many couples hesitant to produce them."

Jim's mouth tightened. Blinky winced and shook his head, looking away.

"I hadn't intended to lead into that point."

"We know where we come from."

"Do you?" Blinky sounded so innocently startled, looked so harmlessly intrigued. Jim didn't think he meant his questions to be cruel. "Do you remember your parents?"

"I meant we know that we're taken. And written off as dead. And can't go back. Because, if we tried, they'd kill us for real. They don't want us anymore."

Jim tried so hard not to connect that with Barbara telling him to get out. I can't do this.

By the Pale Lady, if Blinky used this as a springboard to bring up again Jim suggesting Claire's brother be swapped, Jim wasn't sure how he would respond.

Instead, Blinky … sniffled? And hugged him.

Jim tensed up, his armour ready to create that concussive burst – he couldn't quite do it at will yet but he could feel it coming – and then Blinky's upper hands were where Jim's scruff would be if Jim were in troll form, and Jim's head was tucked under Blinky's chin, and Jim felt so amazingly secure that his armour melted away. He heard the Amulet roll under the bookcase.

"I know you've had a hard life," said Blinky. "All of you Changelings. Harder than I can ever truly understand, not having lived it myself. I cannot undo that, and I cannot personally change every troll's opinion. There will always be those who see you as a painful reminder of the children we could not protect. But by Deya's grace, if by some miracle you succeed in turning your fellow Changelings to our side, I will do all that I can to ensure that each one of you has a home and a family in Trollmarket."

Jim basked in the hug for a moment longer before extracting himself. Blinky let him go. Jim brushed at his stinging eyes.

"Once trolls are willing to trust us with kids, it'll be good for the adoption rate," he tried to joke."… I don't follow."

"Orphans? Foster kids? Changelings are sterilized. So, if we become part of the local troll community, any Changeling who wants kids would be adopting them."

Blinky looked nearly as horrified at the word 'sterilized' as he had when Stricklander confessed to book burning.

The humans and Changelings left Trollmarket shortly after three in the morning. Jim had forgotten to turn on his phone alarm to remind them to leave at two.

Jim and Toby returned to the Domzalski house to find Barbara helping Nana bake cookies. Half-full mugs were abandoned on the table, as were a pair of wine glasses and a bottle of … well, Jim was pretty sure it was meant to be cooking sherry, but it could still technically be drunk, and evidently had been.

"Butterscotch chips make cookies extra special." Nana nodded sagely to herself.

"Hey, Nana. Dr L." Toby gave them a shiny metallic smile.

"Toby. Jim."

"Oh, good, you boys are just in time for cookies!"

Jim snatched one off the cooling rack and stuffed it into his mouth to avoid having to speak.

He hadn't been expecting to see his mother again so soon. What – what did he even call her, he wondered wildly. He couldn't stand it if she told him not to call her 'Mom', but he didn't know if he could call her 'Barbara' to her face, and 'Dr Lake' felt too formal and distant, unless that was what she wanted, but he couldn't know unless he asked or until after making a faux pas …

Also, how much had she told Nana? How much did either of them assume that Toby knew? This situation was not stable.

Why was she here? Did she want him to come home?

(Was he ready to go home? Of course he would go if she asked him to, Barbara needed him, he missed her, and if he said 'no' now he might not get another chance to say 'yes' later, but was he ready to move back in with someone who had thrown him out once already?)

Jim swallowed his cookie and settled for saying, "Hi."

Previous Chapter (Talking about where the Triumbric Stones are hidden)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Jim and Barbara talk)

A lot of the troll reproduction details were inspired by what was mentioned in the spinoff novel Way of the Wizard. Requirements of the birthstone were not actually covered there, nor was the troll 'embryo' referred to as a 'seed crystal', nor were the gronk-nuks directly referenced - those bits are just speculation on my part.

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rilenerocks · 4 years ago

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The other morning, I walked into my house after working out in the yard. As usual, I was sweaty, my normal state once the temperature rises above 70• F. My standard complaint has always been the same – “man, am I hot.” When Michael was alive, he’d always answer that comment with the same response – “you’re telling me.” A part of me never believed him because I was keenly aware of my physical imperfections. But he really didn’t agree with me. I was lucky enough to spend decades with someone who always made me feel beautiful and desirable. What a great gift to leave me. On this particular day, my son was clacking away at his computer at the dining room table when I came in and spouted my “hot” line. I’ve told my kids what their dad used to say to me so I asked him for the proper reply to my prompt. He refused me, saying he knew the answer but that it wasn’t appropriate for him to say it. I got it. I can see where he’d think that was an off-color remark for a son to say to his mom, even though I was just testing his memory. I said I understood his point, then told him that some day when I wasn’t around any more, he’d still remember what those words meant to me. He looked at me and asked, “and what things did your mom say that you still remember?” I was surprised by the question and initially was at a loss for a response. But I’ve been thinking about this for days.

The phrase “that’s what she said,” is an iteration of a British double entendre implying some sort of sexual behavior. Through Steve Carell’s use of it multiple times in the television series, “The Office,” the expression became popularized in America. But that sexist humor isn’t the connotation that I’m intending in this reflection. Rather, I’ve been pondering what comments, bits of advice, suggestions or instructions stick in our minds as we traverse our lives. The words you never forget, out of all those spoken to you by your family, your friends, your teachers, your mentors. In my case, I’d also include lines from books, movies and songs in that collection of the words that resonate, long after they’re initially heard. I’ve been trying to think of what different people have said to me, words that have stayed with me, which pop up randomly in my mind. And maybe even more significantly, what have I said to others, my family, my friends or even acquaintances, that they still hear in their minds. Isn’t it true that we are composite creatures, made up of input from so many sources we can’t possibly distinguish what got integrated into our perception of self? I remember once I was walking along on a sidewalk, and coming toward me was a woman pushing a stroller with a baby aboard, somewhere between 15-18 months old. As we got close, the baby and I made eye contact which we held for about ten seconds. As I moved past them, I remember thinking that the little moment of recognition we shared is stored somewhere in that person’s brain. I was old enough to remember that brief connection. For the baby who hopefully grew up, my image is tucked away somewhere, in the folds of its brain.

But the words, though. My mind is packed with memories that I’m lucky enough to access regularly. If that ends, I hope I’m not alive. During this pandemic experience which I share with countless people, I’ve turned inward to reflect on my life. Having the ability to recall the places I’ve lived, literally strolling through physical spaces in my brain is fascinating. I’m reminded of the lyrics from the Beatles song “In My Life,” which is an example of the words that stuck with me over these 55 years since its release when I was just fourteen. As I’ve been sifting through my son’s question – what I remember of what my mother said to me, the aural landscape has gotten bigger. I’ve even given it a title – Ancestral Noise. What a surprising study I’m in right now. Both the presence and absence of verbal memories from some people who played a central role in my life, at least for awhile, is a mystery.

For example, I can’t recall a single word my maternal grandfather said to me, despite the fact that I spent as much time with him as I did with my grandmother. I can hear her talking all the time. The insignificant comments of random and mostly irrelevant people that still ring in my head seem absurd. So I decided I had to codify some of them. Otherwise they’ll disappear when I do and although that’s inevitable to a large degree, my historian impulse is to leave tracks of myself in my little universe so that my children, grandchildren and whoever may arrive after them, will have some sense of what influences affected the me I am today. So here’s a sampling of what’s emerged from the verbal past. My ancestral noise.

Mom. I thought about her first because she was certainly the most talkative person in my life, much like I am with my family. At first, I was hard put to think of anything but her stories, the growing up ones of hardship, her small victories over her rigid mother, her love story with my dad, her wretched ill health and her remarkable survival skills. But actual words? That took a bit of digging. Eventually, I dredged some of them out. The Dorothy-isms. “I always wanted to be a dancer.” Mom was always wishing she was something other than who she was. A way of being worth noting for me as her child. I didn’t want to do that. “Never put anything in writing.” Ever paranoid, she believed in leaving no evidence which could be used against you (I guess I didn’t give that advice much weight.) “When I die, I’m never leaving you-I’m going to hover over you and protect you.” That one was interesting because the truth is, I starting protecting her when I was quite young. Everyone is entitled to the occasional illusion. “I could never survive the death of my child.” Another interesting memory for me, as I forced a tough decision on my conflicted family regarding this memory. When my brother died, my mom was afflicted with dementia. I had never forgotten what she said. I was here with her providing care in addition to holding her power of attorney. I wouldn’t let anyone tell her he was gone. A controversy ensued but I prevailed. All I could think of was her unnecessary pain and confusion as this lifelong dreaded event actually happened. She died a few months later. I’ve never regretted that decision. Maybe the most practical advice she ever gave me was to remember to be creative about keeping my marriage fresh over the long haul. Although that was impossibly sexist counsel, I did think a lot about putting my relationship with my husband first, as I wanted to be with him after our kids moved on. I implemented that philosophy. Not much sage advice after spending over 60 years with someone. She had a great sense of humor and could come up with sarcastic zingers. But there’s nothing that earth-shattering resounding in my head from mom.

Ironically, my dad, who wasn’t known for being particularly verbal, said a lot of things which carried me through different periods in my life. Parts of him were utterly childlike and ridiculous. He called the four of us kids “little drips.” “Wake up and go to sleep.” “Why don’t you dry up?” “How about taking a long walk off a short pier?” “What’s the matter with you-you got rocks in your head?” “Did you marry your teacher today?” “Did you do your scientific studies?” “You know your mother’s crazy, don’t you? I could go on. Maybe all these inanities stuck with me because mostly, his head was usually buried in a newspaper so his pronouncements were memorable. But there was serious stuff too. “You have to make a plan and stick with it even if you get offtrack for awhile.” An excellent piece of advice. “You’re going to be smarter than many people in life. The average American voter is uneducated. When you believe in something, stick to your principles and don’t back down, no matter what.” Those words are central in my daily life and always have been. “When it comes to financial decisions, you rarely hit the high or sink to the low. Aim for some reasonable goals and don’t look back.” He explained a lot about how the world works to me. He also called me names like con artist and weasel. I can’t fault him for that. I was a streetsmart kid. A squeamish guy, not as physically courageous as my mom, when he got cancer, he bravely announced that he would beat it “the way Grant took Richmond.” He only got through one round of chemo before quitting. Unable to confess that to my mom, he told me first and asked me to arrange his funeral. A young woman in my 30’s, I did what he wanted. Years later, I figured out how inappropriate a choice that was for me. I also remember how incredible I felt when, while home from college in my freshman year, I was the only person available when my grandmother called early in the morning, shouting that my grandfather had collapsed. I called the fire department and ran a mile through the snow to their apartment, winding up in an ambulance tearing down Lake Shore Drive in Chicago. No cell phones in those days, so I was on my own while my grandmother was sedated and I stayed with my grandfather, being his advocate at the tender age of eighteen. Later that evening when my parents came to the hospital and eventually took me home, my dad said, “do you realize you saved your grandfather’s life today?” I’ve never forgotten that moment. I also remember our verbal war when he threatened to disown my sister if she married a non-Jew. I told him he’d have to disown me too and reminded him that he was the one who told me to stand up for my beliefs. He found me very irritating back then. Finally, my dad was a an avid lifelong Democrat. When he was annoyed with Republicans, he’d always say, “death to the vipers.” At my sister’s wedding rehearsal dinner, her husband’s family, who were mostly on the other side of the political spectrum, were treated to my dad’s pronouncement following a few cocktails, shouting out, “the only good Republican is a dead Republican.” Oh my. Those are my most prominent memories of my dad’s voice.

I can hear my maternal grandmother’s voice frequently. An immigrant, she spoke decent English with some scrambled words like saying she was having her description, rather than prescription, filled at the drugstore. She was smart but illiterate, a product of a truly male-dominated culture. She didn’t see her way out of that. But she was sharp-tongued and used a lot of Yiddish phrases, most of them judgmental and demeaning. “Gey cocken offen yom – go take a shit in the ocean.” “Gey avek – get out of here.” “Momzer, schmendrick, schlemiel – bastard, fool and stupid, respectively.” When she thought something was funny, she’d say, “gib a kick,” which meant look at that. She told all of us grandchildren individually that each of us was the only person she could trust while she confided her complaints to everyone. She liked watching baseball because she thought the players were sexy, especially when they adjusted their protective cups. She paid attention to politics and I remember her muttering that Ronald Reagan was a stupid cowboy. She was a compulsive cleaner, plastic covering her furniture which was so sticky and hot in the summer. Perhaps her most famous line was – “you can eat off my floors.”

I barely remember any specific thing that my brother told me. He made up his own alphabet which I recall and I remember discussing world wars and predictions of what the future would look like in terms of superpowers – his money was on China. The only outstanding line I remember from my older sister was her always telling me to “modulate your voice, Renee,” because I was apparently too loud. My younger sister frequently told me that if I died, she would hurl herself into my grave. The sum total of these individual words from my siblings doesn’t sound like much in the overall scope of aural memory.

I can hear my friend Fern telling me she wanted her epitaph to be “she died smiling, if you know what I mean.” I hear my first true love Albert saying, “just for tonight, I love you.” That didn’t bode well for the future. Another boyfriend Dennis, told me that if I’d married him, he wouldn’t have wound up divorced and unhappy. That wasn’t true.

I can’t begin to list all the things Michael said to me over the years, both romantic, sarcastic and funny. “The only place I belong is with you.” “No one has a face like yours-you with the face.” “You’re the smartest person I know.” “We are cosmically connected -I’ll be with you forever.” “Take a hike.” “Life’s a hard road.” “Would you mind removing your feet from my back.” “Everything would be perfect if you’d just stop talking.” “What seems to be the greatest single problem?” “Put a cork in it.” Michael is still so alive in me. The books, music and movies we shared helped us develop a code that bound us together inside and out. He may not be here, but my dialogue with him continues daily. He’s in my head.

So what about me? What have I uttered that my kids will remember when I’m gone? I asked my daughter. Her response was, “run.” When she was driving me crazy as a young girl, there were times when I wished I believed in corporal punishment. But I didn’t. I found a benign way to express my hostility. I held her ponytail and told her to run. She was too smart to do it but it made for a memorable moment. When my son made me want to tear my hair out, I quoted a line to him from the wonderful film, Diner. I told him if he didn’t get a grip on himself, I’d hit him so hard I’d kill his whole family. Preposterous, of course. But one day with an uncooperative playmate, he repeated it to this sensitive child. I thought I’d have my kids taken away by the Department of Children and Family Services. Aside from a variety of movie lines that I adore, I do think I’ve said some things of worth to my kids. I told them about the five year rule, the premise being that whatever is happening right now, which feels so overwhelming, should make them stop and think of exactly what they were doing five years ago. Since they can never recall what that was, I remind them that five years from now, they won’t remember the intensity of this moment. Perspective is everything. I’ve told then ad nauseam that the people with the best lives are the people with the best coping skills. Everyone’s life requires coping and the better you get at managing, the better life will be. Lastly, I tell them that when you tackle problems in life, you want to be operating from a position of strength rather than one of weakness. Identifying what’s directing your internal responses and shifting from your worst skills to your best is always the right move. Those are the best examples of my attempts to provide a strategy for moving forward. Who knows how they’ll feel years from now, when I’m part of their history. Maybe they’ll only remember me walking around quoting Animal House saying, “you’re all worthless and weak.” I’d give a lot to see the future, to hear them discuss me and declare, “that’s what she said.” Joining the ancestral noise of the past.

That’s What S/he Said The other morning, I walked into my house after working out in the yard. As usual, I was sweaty, my normal state once the temperature rises above 70• F.

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theseadagiodays · 4 years ago

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May 11, 2020

Sanctuaries

My favorite refuge: The view from the summit of my backyard park

I’ve been thinking a lot about sanctuaries lately. Defined as “a place of refuge or safety; a nature reserve; or a holy place,” the meaning of the word is entirely interpretable by each individual.

Recently, the term has proliferated in reference to US cities who claim they will protect migrants from a certain unnameable leader’s xenophobic policies. Unthinkably, this same buffoon has even threathened to withhold coronavirus relief funding to such cities if they continue to harbor “unwanted” residents.

It seems, for every sanctuary, there exist forces who want to threaten them. This is as true of religious persecution around the world, as it is with safe houses for women escaping violence.

In our Lullaby Project, Instruments of Change works quite intimately with this population. Through this time, we’ve been fortunate to continue supporting single mothers to write original songs about their hopes and dreams for their children. What we’ve learned from them is that, ironically, while many of us have struggled to self-isolate at home, these women have never felt safer, with the prospect of being found, or of unwelcomed visits from their abusers temporarily lifted.

In Women Rock, another program that we’ve shifted to digital engagement through Google Classroom, our participants have written a secular choral hymn identifying nature as the sanctuary that has provided them the most solace during this time. A verse from their song, Hidden Symphonies is below.

Listen to the silence

Morning bird calls at play

Soul refreshing music

Through isolation days

It is interesting that more and more evidence suggests people rarely catch the virus while outdoors (https://globalnews.ca/news/6906508/coronavirus-outdoors-parks-closed/). Intuitively, this resonates with me, as someone who has always found sanctuary staying active outdoors. So, while experts stress that social distancing in public parks is still necessary, simply sharing these wild places six feet away from strangers has been a blessing.

Art has always been another refuge for many. And it’s no wonder some artists have been turning to nature as their canvas. The Swiss artist, Saype’s work is perhaps the most ambitious example. His stunning ephemeral piece, Beyond Crisis, made with biodegradable spray paint, is designed to fade naturally as the grass grows, in much the same way we all hope this virus will eventually disappear once nature takes its course (with ample cooperation from humans).

https://twistedsifter.com/2020/05/giant-biodegradable-artwork-of-hope-appears-atop-swiss-hillside/

And finally, another creative community, in Sag Harbour, NY, has found an inventive way to share their work while galleries are closed. Barns, front yards, and back gardens have become museum walls for dozens of installations that locals are welcome to view, as safely distant drive-bys. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/11/arts/design/drive-by-art-long-island.html?action=click&module=Well&pgtype=Homepage&section=Art%20%20Design

Paintings by Darius Yektai; Diane Blell’s “Table for Two Separate tables”; Erik Fischl’s “Young Dancers Dancing”

May 12, 2020

Daily Delights

I have also been trying to hone my lens for finding a different kind of art in nature. With time to slow down and stay close to home, I have paid much closer attention to the little wonders that surround me. I began the practice of doing this shortly before self-isolation, when I learned about Ross Gay’s poetic essays collected in his book Daily Delights. https://www.amazon.ca/Book-Delights-Essays-Ross-Gay/dp/1616207922

As if prophetically, NPR featured him on my favorite podcast This American Life, in late January. https://www.thisamericanlife.org/692/the-show-of-delights

And this reminder, to savor life’s small pleasures was exactly the armor I needed for this period. Since February, I’ve kept my own daily delights journal. And here are just a few snapshots that have made the cut since quarantine began.

Baby ducks, Hula hoops, Elderly couple park bench massage, Backyard swing

May 13, 2020

Radio Days

While so much has changed about my daily rhythms, of late, there are a few pillars that I’ve kept in place to give my life some necessary scaffolding, in order to maintain a sense of familiarity and grounding.

One of these is the ritual that my partner and I have had for years, of listening to This American Life every weekend. Ira Glass’s strangely pleasing-though-nasally drone has accompanied hundreds of our road trips to mountains, lakes and forests, as we’ve sought weekend adventure. But for now, living room listenting has had to suffice.

On May 4th, the show just happened to be honored with the first ever Pulitzer Prize for audio journalism. So, that’s a well-earned feather in a podcast’s cap. But, awards or not, their carefully curated slices of life never fail to amuse and inspire.

Interestingly, I think more and more people are turning to podcasts, perhaps as an antidote to screen fatigue, and also because it seems to align with the nostalgia for days past that is so alive right now. So, I wanted to suggest a few podcasts that might particularly resonate at the moment.

If it’s a longing for “other” that’s calling you, there is an incredible website called Radio Garden that lets you travel anywhere in the world, to sonically “drop-in” to whatever environment intrigues you (http://radio.garden/listen/alpha-boys-school-radio/ijKUlByg). For a real time sense of what moves people across the globe, you can experience the music, stories, and language of cultures from Antanarivo to Zagreb, with just a spin of their online globe and a simple click. Here, you can access literally thousands of radio stations. However, in my experience, their interface works best on a Chrome rather than Safari browser.

Early in quarantine, when I was in sorest need of a good laugh, This American Life put together an episode on fiascos that really helped bring levity at a time when we all began to feel our world fall apart. https://www.thisamericanlife.org/699/fiasco

And speaking of when things fall apart, Buddhist nun Pema Chodron’s book of the same name has served as a sort of bible for many westerners, as they’ve turned to the ancient Tibetan tradition in which she was ordained. Another podcast favorite of mine is Krista Tippet’s On Being. And her most recent May 7thepisode featured herself and musician/meditator Devandra Banhart alternatively reading passages from this sage book, while reflecting on its relevance for the times.

https://onbeing.org/programs/devendra-banhart-when-things-fall-apart/

May 14. 2020

Finding Bliss

Ai Weiwei’s 2010 “Grapes”, with a coincidental resemblance to the coronavirus

Interviewed about how he’s responding to the virus, Ai Weiwei replied, “I never create anything. I just try to cope with the situation at hand.” We all need coping tools and strategies for those times when things fall apart. Ai Weiwei’s plainspoken answer sounds almost religious, the way he describes art as his salve. And this makes sense to me. But for many years, faith in an actual religion never did. Raised as a half-Catholic, half-Jewish Unitarian, I only attended services until I was about 11, when Sunday youth orchestra rehearsals took their place. So, I never fully understood the role of weekly church service until we travelled to India, for 10-days of Dalai Lama teachings. This annual offering, which he made for 30 years, was an even greater gift than we expected, given that these Kalichakra teachings ceased just after our 2007 trip, unbeknowst to us. Every day, for 5 hours, 1,000s of seekers flocked to the grounds of his Dharamsala temple, and listened by radio simulcast, in 1 of 17 native tongues, to his special blend of humor and clarity. Each day, we all left bubbling to the rim with reaffirmed intention to be our best selves. The coffeeshops, all over town, were a twitter with armchair philosophy between strangers trying to understand and integrate his words. Uncanny kindnesses abounded. And you could feel our resolve get ever more reinforced with each return to his daily talks. However, it’s only once we left Dharmasala, with equally grand intentions to “remember”, that I recognized the role of these daily infusions. Because with each passing day, best behaviors, careful speech, and pure thoughts deterioritated, if only a little at a time.

Note the curly-haired, golden-sweatered sore thumb in this sea of burgundy-robed monks...

So, while that did not instill in me a renewed church-going tradition, I have found my own ways to be “reminded.” They’ve just come in different forms.

For Geoff, it’s long runs and bike rides that serve as his spiritual medicine. And for me, it’s a panoply of things. Sometimes its communion with nature. Other times yoga. Writing. Handstand therapy. Or even what my favorite yoga teacher likes to call “Hammock Enlightenment.”

Eoin Finn is an artist of the highest order. Good living is his canvas. The body is his brush. And bliss is his paint. He calls his teaching Blissology, and spreads his backbends, heart-openers, and ocean loving vibes from Indonesia to Byron Bay.

He and his family have been quarantining in Bali, since they were leading teacher trainings there, just before global travel nearly shut down. And fortunately, he continues to extend his generous spirit through free weekly livestream Stay Om yoga classes, on Facebook. If you happen to miss his 5 pm Sunday classes, the videos remain online to follow any time. So, I hope some of you take the opportunity to worship the DUDE (Delight in Universal Divine Energy) with him some time. I promise there will be plenty more acronymns and puns where that one came from. Plus, a good dose of deep stretches for your limbs and soul.

https://www.facebook.com/blissarmy/?__tn__=%2Cd%2CP-R&eid=ARD502BDBWegIvZPmn6ec9pFCtdEPtRnELt_iabxb0_c5Mmnzq3UPiAddV8fEanrbJLeSOhgYWdeQOlu

May 15. 2020

Birthday Bash

Those who know me are aware of the special challenges birthdays pose for my creativity. I relish the quest for the perfect homemade card, surprise gift, Bitmoji or GIF for a friend or family member. And I love throwing a good bash. I am also aware of the undue pressure this has caused my partner, over the years, to come up with a reciprocal gesture or party idea. But given the added constraints of a quarantine, Geoff went over and above the call of duty this year to produce!

While the novelty of Zoom parties had already worn off, he still managed to find a brilliant way for my loved ones to send serial video messages throughout the day, with the bonus of a clever twist. I’m not quite sure how he found the time, in his manic 70-hour work weeks, to put this together. But, 43 clues later, I was delivered a personalized crossword puzzle, with each hint related to the messenger. He really outdid himself this time, and I could not feel more grateful.

Meanwhile, unsure if he had anything up his sleeve, I got up to my own fun messying my hands to make this Covid Pinata. I confess, I borrowed the idea from an article I saw online, but just couldn’t resist.

And last night, of course with proper social distancing, we took great delight in beating the crap out of this brutal virus with a couple of friends.

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cordpolo6-blog · 5 years ago

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Self-Care Interview Series: Adriana Ayales

Adriana Ayales is a rainforest herbalist from Costa Rica and the founder of herbal apothecary Anima Mundi. We are in love with Adriana’s world and creations, and so excited to share this interview.

Routine

— Is routine important to you or do you like things to be more open and free?

Although I love the grounded power of routine, I’m living in a phase of being open and free. With kids, and a beyond full time devotion to running a business, I just ride the waves as they come. I’ve learned to surrender that not everything has to look the way it should look. Life’s situations and patterning moves around like the seasons.

— What do your mornings look like? If they differ from day to day, describe your ideal morning.

I love getting up before the kids, and sneaking into the kitchen to make myself a healing cup(s) of medicine. First thing I do is a big ole’ cup of vitamin C rich goodness, sometimes its mangosteen hibiscus with a lemon squeeze, or fresh picked turmeric from the garden grated with ginger, along with camu camu and lemon water. Then I make a seasonal fruit bowl of sorts, with oatmeal, or homemade granola loaded with mineralizing herbs (like nettle or mesquite powder). Followed by my favorite, and not so healthy friend, Coffee. Ah coffee. I can’t tell you how wonderful locally grown heirloom coffee is here, paired with deliciously fresh cacao and medicinal mushrooms and homemade almond.

— Do you have any bedtime rituals that help you sleep well?

Massaging the face, forehead and skull with warm oil at night is one of the simplest and most restorative practices we can do to induce deep sleep. I love using a mix I make at home of jojoba oil, with rosehip, infused with clary sage and a fine sandalwood. Another one of my all time favorites for evening relaxation is blue lotus.

— Do you have any kind of mindfulness practice?

Sipping tea mindfully in nature, witnessing time in silence is one of my favorite things. I tap into my feelings, breath, mind, and begin to clear energy.

Sustenance

— Do you do caffeine and in what form? If not, what is your drink of choice in the morning?

I do love caffeine. Growing up in Costa Rica has woven me into loving a good cup of locally roasted coffee. Depending on the day, I love adding reishi, or a mix of medicinal mushrooms, raw cacao with mucuna, along with a homemade plant based milk. I also love having an aged puerh, or traditional matcha with added herbs for nourishment, like moringa.

— Do you have a sweet tooth and do you take any measures to keep it in check?

Sometimes I do, especially when I’m tired or running on low energy. When i’m over-worked, or running on stress I definitely crave more carby and sugary things, and this is usually due to skipping a meal, or needing a quick-fix. Some tips I bare in mind during stressful moments that ignite the sweet tooth (or just in general!) are: always go for fruits before you opt for a sugary dessert, always choose low glycemic sweeteners vs. sugar (some faves are coconut sugar, maple syrup, and real stevia extract — not the synthetic ones!) For carbs avoid empty carbs and refined flours, and opt for ones that are more easily absorbed, like coconut, almond and cassava flour.

— Are there any particular supplements, herbs, or tinctures/tonics that you take regularly and find to be helpful with your energy level and general wellness?

Oh my, so many! I seasonally change my herbal intake, but certainly stick with some favorites. I love having my potent “singles” (single herb tinctures) on me at all times, like shisandra berries and blue lotus. A Brain tonic while I’m working, usually with herbs like gotu kola, ginkgo, brahmi and lion’s mane mushroom. Two that I dose with very often are the Happiness tonic (st johns wort, mucuna, ashwagandha, etc.) and euphoric/mood elevating herbs like catuaba, mucunam muira puama and damiana. I also love our Liver formula for daily cleansing and nourishment, like the moringa, burdock, nettles, chlorella. And of course beauty herbs like He Shou Wu, Mangosteen and more!

Exercise

— Do you exercise and do you have a particular exercise routine that you repeat weekly?

Absolutely, I love doing a mix between yoga and pilates.

— Do you find exercise to be pleasurable, torturous or perhaps a little of both? How do you put yourself in the right mindset in order to keep up with it?

I love the torture! When I feel a little lazy and not like suffering in an intensive workout, I just remind myself how excellent I feel when I finish it. Not just seeing physical results, but especially the mental peace and happiness after working out.

Beauty

— What is your idea of beauty – external, internal or both?

A feeling of wholeness. When your mood is high, your gut is vibrant, and you feel confident and beautiful. When there is no sense of lack, imbalance or deficiency. When you feel aligned.

— What is your skincare approach – face and body?

I love making my own body and face oils. I usually infuse collagen boosting herbs, and skin strengthening herbs and lather up. I also like to keep things simple, like using cacao butter with coconut oil, or just a fluffy shea butter for deep moisture.

— Are there any foods, herbs or supplements you find to be helpful to your skin/hair/general glow?

Yes! I’m a big fan of eating herbs and supplements that protect the skin, increase our own collagen receptors and help activate our natural glow. The herbs I designed for the vegan collagen formula have been my go-to’s for quite sometime. Horsetail, He Shou Wu, Calendula, Nettle seed + leaf, Comfrey, and others like Mangosteen, Camu Camu and Hibiscus are great for the skin too.

— Do you have any beauty tips/tricks you’ve found to be especially useful throughout the years?

I love making edible masks. Infusing a high potency extract into a raw clay and avocado, along with an activating source like apple cider vinegar, or more protein like flax, and making a smooth paste to lather all over the face, body and even hair is one of my all time favorites.

Stress, etc.

— Do you practice any consistent routines in order to avoid stress?

Visualization is huge for me. Sitting in silence and tuning in is vital, along with the help of nervines and adaptogenic herbs that assist in de-compression like skullcap, blue lotus and ashwagandha.

— If stress cannot be avoided, what are your ways of dealing with it?

I like taking a walk or hike in nature, get in the ocean/lake/river or any kind of body of water. I completely unplug from work, the phone, or computer.

— What measures do you take when you sense a cold/general feeling of being under the weather coming on?

Before the cold kicks in, I take strong echinacea extracts in a soothing tea, mixing turmeric, lemon, grated ginger, apple cider vinegar, garlic and aloe in warm water. It works every time. I make a large batch and dose all day long — even my kids love it!

— How do you reconcile work-time with free-time? Do those things overlap for you or do you keep them distinctly separate?

This certainly overlaps for me, which can honestly be a bitter sweet reality. I love everything surrounding plants, and its medicinal uses, as well as teaching, and medicine making. I love that my business is all about honoring ancestral ways, plant medicine, the art of herbalism, righteous cultivation, and medicine making. Yet, like any business owner would understand, there are many tasks to the job that are exhausting and certainly not what made you fall in love in the first place. For me personally, I’ve learned to reconcile by doing what I love doing the most, medicine making and wildcrafting. I made a commitment to myself in making space for this no matter what, and not disregarding it by prioritizing business with the things that don’t really matter in life. It’s vital that we take moments in our free time that refine our focus and intention in life, re-align to what inspired the dream, without getting side swept with “busy-ness”.

Motivation

— Describe the actions you take or mindset you try to tap into in order to stay on track with your self-care practice and being nice to yourself?

Over the last couple years I’ve struggled with this because of having babies. Which I’m sure a lot of new moms can relate to this! Every time I get a moment between being a mother, wife and business owner, my priority to feel more self loving (and more human!) is yoga. The simple act of getting oxygen, doing conscious breathing, and distracting the monkey mind from its patterning, you become yourself again.

— What do you consider to be the single most important change you’ve made to your routine or lifestyle in terms of wellness?

Herbs. Integrating plant medicine into everything has significantly changed my body mind and soul.

— A book/movie/class that influenced your view of self-nourishment or self-care.

Off the top of my head I love these: Healing with Whole Foods with Paul Pitchford, Gabriel Cousens’ Spiritual Nutrition, The Body Ecology Diet by Donna Gates, and of course The Medical Medium by Anthony William.

Knowledge

— What was your path to becoming an herbalist and starting Anima Mundi?

Growing up I learned closely with curanderos on plant medicine and rainforest herbalism overall. I then attended herbal schools in California where I learned a lot of native, northern and european herbalism. Life somehow took me to NYC (a place I NEVER thought I would ever go to) after living in California for quite some years, and I started practicing privately as an herbalist. I kept noticing the common trends, symptomology and imbalances folks that came in had, and started developing “mother formulas” to be able to make large batches.

— How do you approach sourcing herbs for Anima Mundi?

First and foremost we try to create a direct relationship with the people/farmers that cultivate. Although we value certification of prime ingredients, there are many ethical wild crafters and farms that do not have special certifications, yet cultivate sustainable practices and have quality products that we also like to support. We are also adamant of supporting local economies as much as possible, particularly with rainforest herbs sourced directly from indigenous people, supporting their craft as well as ethically crafted botanicals.

— What are some of Anima Mundi’s best sellers?

Our plant-based Collagen Booster, Happiness Tonic, Adaptogenic Immortality Tonics, Curam Beauty Elixir, our 100% Coconut Cream Powder, Mushroom Mocha Milk and more…!

Fun and Inspiration

— A book/song/movie/piece of art to feed the soul:

Book – Women Who Run with Wolves Song/Album – Cuatro Vientos / Danit Movie – Loving the The OA lately! Piece of Art – Ayahuasca art by Pablo Amaringo

Photos by Renee Byrd and from Anima Mundi’s IG / This post contains Amazon Affiliate links.

Source: https://golubkakitchen.com/self-care-interview-series-adriana-ayales/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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ngakpakonchokdorjetsondonmystic · 5 years ago

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Power of Kindness

“Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.” -His Holiness the Dalai Lama XIV

From narcissistic relationship to world terrorism and trade war, we living in world battlefield. We can't rest at work because one of our college is ready to buried our effort to the grave. In middle of this we can found some random act of kindness .

We can see that health care workers around the world even gave there life for healothers.

Kindness action are also able to turn a situation over.

Garchen Rinpoche saying that when he was in prison for as political prisoners for Tibet .

He say that because of his kindness that the guard start to change and ease on strickness in jail.

Siddhartha and the Swan

More than two thousand five hundred years ago, the Sakya king Sudhodhana ruled over the kingdom of Kapilavastu, on the borders of what is now Nepal. King Sudhodhana and his queen, Maya, had no children.

One night, as Queen Maya lay sleeping, she had a strange dream. She dreamt that a beautiful baby elephant, as white as snow, came down from the sky and entered her body. At once, music began to play, trees and bushes blossomed with flowers, and lotuses covered the lakes. The whole world began to celebrate.

The next morning, the queen described her strange dream. The Brahmin priests foretold that soon a son would be born to her, a son who would become either a great king or a great sage. A few months later, the queen gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. King Sudhodhana and Queen Maya named their son Siddhartha.

The king and queen surrounded their son with every luxury and comfort that they could think of. Siddhartha’s days were spent in the palace and its beautiful gardens, playing and learning with his cousins, friends and companions. His best friends were his cousin Ananda, his squire Chandak and his horse Kantak.

Siddhartha was a kind and gentle child, and everyone who met him loved him, except his cousin Devadatta. Devadatta hated Siddhartha. He hated his kindness and his compassion, and the fact that he was loved so dearly by everyone in the palace. Devadatta used every opportunity he could get to pick a fight with Siddhartha, or to create trouble for him.

One lovely spring morning, Siddhartha was playing by the river that flowed through the palace gardens. He saw a group of swans floating gracefully on the river. Siddhartha stopped to watch them. The great white birds swam slowly down the river, their feathers edged with gold in the bright sunshine. ‘Oh, you’re beautiful,’ whispered Siddhartha to the swans. Siddhartha sat down by the riverbank to watch the birds.

Suddenly an arrow came whizzing out of the air, and pierced the biggest, most beautiful of the swans. Siddhartha cried out, and ran into the river towards the bird. The poor swan was thrashing his wings in fear and pain. It couldn’t swim, it couldn’t fly – the arrow had broken one of its wings.

Siddhartha held his hands out to the injured bird, calling softly to calm it down. He held the bird tenderly in his arms and waded out to the riverbank. He quieted the swan, and then gently pulled the arrow out of its wing. Using a stick for a splint, and a strip torn from his clothing for a bandage, Siddhartha set and bound the wing of the swan.

Meanwhile, Devadatta came running up in search of his arrow. He too had seen the swans from a distance, and had decided to practice his shooting skills on the beautiful birds.

‘That swan belongs to me,’ said Devadatta. ‘I shot it, not you.’

‘No,’ said Siddhartha. ‘It belongs to me. I saved it.’

‘Very well,’ said Devadatta. ‘Let us go to our guru. He will tell you that the swan is mine because it is my arrow that hit it!’

The two children took the injured swan to their guru. The guru heard Devadatta’s tale and turned to Siddhartha.

‘Well, Siddhartha,’ asked the teacher. ‘What do you have to say?’

‘Devadatta hurt the swan,’ said Siddhartha. ‘The swan was doing him no harm! It was swimming on the river, looking so beautiful. Why did Devadatta shoot it? I will not let him have it, he will hurt it again. I have made it well – so now it is mine.’

The teacher smiled when he heard what Siddhartha had to say.

‘The swan belongs to Siddhartha,’ he said. ‘Siddhartha has saved its life, and cared for it and made it well. Devadatta has hurt it, and sought to destroy it. Nobody can own a living being, except the one who loves it. So the swan remains with Siddhartha.’

Devadatta was furious. He stomped off, swearing he would get even with Siddhartha one day.

But Siddhartha only smiled. He had saved the swan. He looked after the bird till its broken wing was mended, and then released it back on the river.

Siddhartha grew up to fulfill the prophecy of his birth – he became a great sage, among the greatest of them all. Siddhartha became Gautam Buddha.

In spiritual level the teaching said that more kindness we got better our next birth will be.

Compassion isn't just a great power to apply to family to enemies when we apply the bodhisattva vow .

The kindness has really made the historical Buddha Shakyamuni and also all great spiritual teachers after him.

The mantra Om Mani Padme Hung as the power : Om is the primordial sound of the universe on itself om can purifie negativity, Ma purifie jealousy, Ni purifie desire, Pad purifie ignorance, Me purifie attachment, Hung purifie hatred and stop ego clinging.

Ego clinging selfishness is great deases more time pass more generations becoming more selfish and self center we become a bitter world. Compassion is tools of the strong those who are able to transform an enemy to friend.

And how does one abide with one’s heart imbued with loving-kindness extending outward in one direction? Just as one would feel friendliness on seeing a dearly beloved friend, so does one extend loving-kindness to all creatures.” -The Buddha (Appamannavibhanga)

As a practitioner we need to develop compassion like the Buddha himself did like all past Lamas did .

Yes it’s big challenge for practitioner but that how we take this challenge that will mske our world better or not.

Monks, when the liberation of mind through loving-kindness is practiced, developed, resorted to, used as one’s vehicle, made one’s foundation, steadied, consolidated, and perfected, eleven benefits can be expected. Which eleven?”

1. One sleeps happily. 2. One wakes happily. 3. One has no bad dreams. 4. One is loved by others. 5. One is loved by non-humans. 6. One is guarded by devas. 7. Fire, poison, or sword won’t touch one. 8. On’s mind becomes concentrated quickly. 9. One’s complexion becomes clear. 10. One dies with a mind free from confusion. 11. If no higher attainment is reached, one is reborn in the Brahma realms.” -The Buddha (AN 11.16)

KKindness bring also lot of benefits for mental health

Pain – kindness releases endorphins in the brain. It's a natural painkiller. ... Blood Pressure – kindness helps release oxytocin, a 'cardio protective' hormone that releases another chemical called 'nitric oxide in the body that dilates blood vessel, thus reducing blood pressure.

https://www.aifc.com.au/positive-kindness-mental-health/

HERE IS A LIST ON THE POSITIVE EFFECTS OF KINDNESS ON OUR MENTAL HEALTH

Pain – kindness releases endorphins in the brain. It’s a natural painkiller.

Stress – kind people age slower and have lower stress than the average person.

Anxiety & Depression – kindness improves mood, depression and anxiety. Kindness stimulates the production of serotonin which heals wounds, calms and increases happiness.

Blood Pressure – kindness helps release oxytocin, a ‘cardio protective’ hormone that releases another chemical called ‘nitric oxide in the body that dilates blood vessel, thus reducing blood pressure.

Pleasure – elevated levels of dopamine in the brain causes pleasure/reward centres to light up. This is known as the ‘helpers high.’

Self-Worth – kindness can make us not just feel good about ourselves, but begin to believe in ourselves, increasing our self-worth.

Relationships – kindness helps improve relationships by reducing the distance between individuals.

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rilenerocks · 4 years ago

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That’s What S/he Said The other morning, I walked into my house after working out in the yard. As usual, I was sweaty, my normal state once the temperature rises above 70• F.

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