Dear Artists, Creatives and Other Broken Saints
I wrote the following poem about four years ago to help me stop worrying about what my neighbors/friends/relatives/dentist or other writers thought about my writing style and ability.
I wrote the following poem about four years ago to help me stop worrying about what my neighbors/friends/relatives/dentist or other writers thought about my writing style and ability.
The thought of death, the great unknown, evokes a variety of emotions, from fear to awe. When you sit down to discuss the topic with end of life planner Alua Arthur, you’re bound to experience the full range. Self-described death doula, Arthur is there during an individual or family’s most intimate and painful moments, easing the transition from this life to the great beyond.
My grandparents used to make spontaneous phone calls. They were also people who stopped by the neighbors’ house unannounced — something I can’t imagine anyone I know actually doing.
For better or for worse, there is no way around the fact that technology breeds isolation, at least in certain ways. Eighty-two percent of American smartphone users (a majority of our nation’s population) reported in a recent Pew survey that the presence of phones deteriorated their most recent in-person conversations. Such figures are harrowing, but not surprising.
“Today you have to put your shoes on by yourself,” my physical therapist announced one morning this spring, after I woke up from another restless night on a stiff plastic mattress. I was recovering from a rare disease that paralyzed my hands and legs for a month, and I was learning how to enter the world outside the hospital again. The worst part of the ordeal was not being able to change sleeping positions at night. The second-worst part was the loss of my treasured independence. I couldn’t turn a page or open my Chap Stick or scratch an itch by myself. It took five minutes to work up enough strength to even move my foot.
What are we supposed to do when someone dies? I wish I had a simple answer. And in some ways, I do. There is nothing you can do except ride the waves of grief. Loss is so unexpected, even when it is expected. We cannot fathom what it will feel like to lose someone close to us. There is no comparison to the experience of deep grief.
There are so many misconceptions about how long grief is supposed to last or not last. There are books and studies and reports and endless advice and opinions about what your grief should look like. But really, the only person who knows how long your grief should last is you.
Gateway to the Higher Self Let’s talk about your favorite food—maybe a burger; your favorite patty with fresh tomatoes and crisp lettuce, loaded with gooey overflowing cheese wrapped with soft fresh organic buns. Are you drooling already? Have you ever pondered over what happens when you look at advertisements with pictures of tempting food? How …
Loren Fishman, MD, B. Phil., is one of the few physicians practicing medicine who incorporates yoga into his regular treatment protocols and offers patients individual yoga therapy. He joins us at the Art of Living Retreat Center to share his unique and effective program with yoga practitioners, yoga teachers and therapists, physical therapists, nurses, physicians …
The Practice: The Fishman Method—Yoga for Osteoporosis Read More »
Pratyahara is often defined as “the conscious withdrawal of energy from the senses.” Yet what does that phrase really mean? Did you know that a massage or even vacationing by the sea can be form of pratyahara? Read on and find out how. Pratyahara is perhaps the least understood limb of the 8-part yoga system. Pratyahara …