Yoga Poses and Yoga Mats

Yoga-phobe I am not. In fact you could call me quite the opposite.   I love yoga and have been practicing on and off (mostly on) for nearly15 years.  My pal Dharma, from Dijital Dharma, is on a 30-day Bikram yoga challenge and has inspired me even more.   This pose, urdhva mukha svanasana, or up-ward facing dog, is a favorite of mine…and I can actually do this one.  Here the lovely Lisa Matkin demonstrates–wish I could say it was me…

Here are some poses that I love…but can’t do, demonstrated by yoga rocking Sean Corn, and the hippy Jivamukti Yoga founder Sharon Gannon:

 

 

 

 

 

What I’m challenged with today is a ripping yoga mat.  I’ve had this cool orange sherbert colored mat, made by Gaim, for some years now, more than 8 I would guess, and through the years have bought others and given them away to budding yogites like myself, and simply because the new mats weren’t good for me.   Last year I went on a quest for a new mat in my area, because, well, my mat was starting to seriously shred.  When I wear my black yoga pants, I’m spotted with tiny flakes of orange.  But it still is the greatest sticky mat.  Last year I figured — it was time.   I purchased a new Gaim mat…safe to get the same kind again, right?  Evidently Gaim, famous for all its holistic yogic living, has decided to start making its yoga mats in China, have dropped the price to around 20 bucks instead of 30, which my original cost, resulting in the very basic yoga mat that sucks.  When I opened it the smell of the dye or the plastic or whatever burned the nostrils, and of course, did not induce a very pleasant yoga practice.  It was extremely shiny and slippery–Down dog was impossible since my hands continually slid right from under me.  Took it back.  Disgusted with Gaim company.

Next came a natural fiber mat…yada, yada, yada.   Didn’t smell, but I slipped on this one also.  Lastly, I tried a Nike mat which we spotted at Olympia Sport, where my daughter was eyeing some expensive sneakers.  Cool, I thought.  Which color should I take: the pink and gray, or the blue and tan.  “Pink and gray, pink and gray.”  So I unrolled this one at home.  No smell, nice line down the middle for alignments.  But, it is not a sticky mat.  I slid again, and sweated on my palms almost instantly.  My daughter took this one-since she picked it. 

Today, my mat lost a serious chunk, right where foot placement occurs regularly.  Shredded it out during plank pose.  Only a short matter of time before I chatturunga right through.  (That’s a yoga push-up for the non-yogites out there). 

So, does anyone have a yoga mat recommendation for a 40-ish chick who sweats like a normal person, but slips on most mats?  I would order on-line, but I don’t have any idea which ones really work.  They all make promises. 

I am still at peace however…faithful that enlightenment will come…

Namaste peace…

Iconic – Illustration by The Wit Continuum

Iconic - 4/09

My own illustration inspired by Edie Sedgwick (this is not a portrait of her, mind you).  I take a photo I like and work with it a bit.  This was done in charcoal, pencil, and outline black pen.

David Hockney Favorite

This is my absolute David Hockney painting favorite,  Mr. and Mrs. Clark and Percy. 

“Contemporary British artist David Hockney conbined a number of individual reference photographs and studies of different aspects of this scene to create this very large composition depicting his friends Mr. and Mrs. Clark at home with their cat, Percy.”

Tate Gallery, London, England. 

Source: The Indispensable Cat

Friday Feature Cartoon

Fractal Images

Fractal generated images are computer generated and crafted out of mathmatical formulae. 

Fascinated with these mind-bending designs that seem to define infinity. 

Dainis Graveris has collected 60 prime examples on a blog, all generated using a freeware fractal program called Apophysis (for Windows only). 

Check out these . . .

 

This last one really gives me the feeling of traveling. . .focus on the center, you’ll see what I mean. But come back soon.

Peace…

Moonstruck…or Are We Just Crazy?

Ahhh…the moon…on Saturday night was exceptional…Took this shot with my new Sony Cyber-shot 12.1 mega pixel.  It was a warm, breezy night…

“The root word for both “moon” and “mind” was the Indo-European manas, or men, representing the ‘wise blood’ in women, governed by the moon.  Other extentions of this root include: words of mentality, menstrual, menology, mensuration, mentor, menage (a matrilineal household), omen (a revelation from the moon), and amen (the moon of rebirth).  

Its derivative mania used to mean ecstatic revelation, just as lunacy used to mean possession by the spirit of Luna, the moon.    To be “moon-touched” or “moon-struck” meant to be chosen by the Goddess;  a “moon-calf” was one carried away by love of her.  When patriarchal thinkers belittled the Goddess, these words came to mean mere craziness.  The moonstruck person was described as “silly,” a word that formerly meant “blessed,” possibly derived from Selene, the Moon.”

So we’re not crazy, are we?  Perhaps we are wisdom filled, blessed Lunatics.  I like that…and I love, love, love the moon. 

Source: Women Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets

Black Dress VII and VIII

Found this when reading of Fashionista on-line:  “Kate Moss’s black long-sleeved dress for Topshop was named Dress of the Year by the Bath Fashion Museum.”  

This UK museum has the world’s largest collection of historical fashion.  We are left wondering who does the Dress of the Year judging. 

This dress, designed by Kate herself, outdid top designers such as Calvin Klein, Versace, and Alexander McQueen.  All from the model who stated that she is “not a proper designer.”  If this is an example of un-proper design, we see why.

Though we usually love “all things Kate,”  this dress is far from the fashion “WOW” factor.  I think I threw out a dress like this in 1986.  It may have been purple. 

We just cannot see the big “win” here.  Not when we found this Nina Ricci black runway dress for Fall 2009. Ready-to-Wear on Uliana Tikhova.       WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

David Hockney’s iPhone Art

I was astounded this weekend to see this incredible use of new technology, by none other than 71 year old artist, David Hockney who turned his four month old iPhone into tech-culture art.  Amazingly he even sits his high tech canvas on its own easel.  Using input commands on a color screen, Hochney has painted flowers and landscapes.

“I lie in bed and send illustrated art lectures to friends and also my own iPhone paintings,” said Hockney.  “I like to draw flowers by hand on the iPhone and send then out to friends so they get fresh flowers.  And my flowers last!”

Hockney had previously created computer screen art with a stylus and electronic tablet from what I’ve read, so this wasn’t too hard for this incredible talent.  I’m still amazed.  The Wit Continuum is rough when it comes to technology, learning slowly through the years and still ages behind.  This app would probably take me a year to figure out. 

Still….intrigued and impressed.

Peace…

The Secrets of the Age of Thirteen

Portrait of Girl with Comic Book  by Phyllis McGinley

Thirteen’s no age at all.  Thirteen is nothing.

It is not wit, or powder on the face.

Or Wednesday matinees, or misses’ clothing,

Or intellect, or grace.

Twelve has its tribal customs.  But thirteen

Is neither boys in battered cars nor dolls,

Not Sara Crewe, or movie magazine,

Or pennants on the walls.

 

Thirteen keeps diaries and tropical fish

(A month, at most); scorns jumpropes in the spring;

Could not, would fortune grant it, name its wish;

Wants nothing, everything;

Has secrets from itself, friends it despises;

Admits none to the terrors that it feels;

Owns half a hundred masks but no disguises;

And walks upon its heels.

 

Thirteen’s anomalous–not that, not this:

Not folded bud, or wave that laps a shore,

Or moth proverbial from the chrysalis.

Is the one age defeats the metaphor.

Is not a town, like childhood, strongly walled

But easily surrounded; is no city.

Nor, quitted once, can it be quite recalled–

Not even with pity. 

 

From: The Love Letters of Phyllis McGinley (1954)