Improve Organ Function and Well-Being

 

 

 

Ancient literature going back 2,500 years depict images of exercises similar to Qigong postures but it’s also considered to be over 6,000 years old. It’s a strongly established method originating from China that uses a gentle combination of breathing, stretching and meditating for easing muscle tension, relieving stress, generating flexibility, cultivating energy, and increasing balance in specific organs relevant to each position.

From a literal standpoint, the word “Qi” is the Chinese word for “vital energy”. Qi is the animating force that moves through our body and soul and gives us not only life but consciousness. The concept of a living energy can be found in every culture and is known by names such as Prana (India), Ruach (Israel), Aenema (Ancient Greece), Holy Spirit (Christianity), and The Force (Star Wars).

“Gong” is the Chinese word for “work” or “skill”. So the word “Qigong” can be translated as “the skill of vital energy”.”

This is a short exercise of 20 minutes and even if done only once you will feel immediate benefits. It provides a great sense of inner peace, a clearing of the mind that alleviates mental strain and I recommend trying it out every morning, every other morning, one evening a week, or whenever it suits you.

(Reference: http://www.qigongevolution.com/QigongHistory.html)

5 Words, write a Story

My sister and I strolled through Rochester High Street before we walked laughing into the crepe cafe, an aroma of sweet melted chocolate drifted through the air as we found our booth tucked away. We sat there drinking hot chocolate, sharing some of our latest poems. My inspiration had felt stumped, motivation to write had dwindled. What was there to write about? There was nothing exciting happening; my senses were not being elated; romanticism had evaporated; it was only a dull world I could now see.

Then I remembered an activity a friend had introduced to me whilst we sat in a cafe on a hot summer’s day.

We gave each other 5 words and with these five words we had to write a short story as fast as possible.

This is what happened:

Story Skye:

ANGEL MOUNTAINS SNOW AMAZEMENT SPARKLE

One day an angel appeared in front of a young girl called Kizzy! She was hiking up high in the mountains, and the lights she saw made her look up in amazement. The angel gave off an amazing heat which made the snow melt beneath Kizzy’s feet. The angel didn’t say much but the look in her eyes made Kizzy know and feel that everything was going to be okay! And with a flutter of her wings and an epic sparkle, she was gone, and Kizzy was alone on the mountain.

Story Kizzy:

FLOWERS PANCAKES RAINBOWS UNICORNS LIGHT

In a distant land far, far away from the earth, far from this universe and anything we know to be true, is a planet inhabited by wild unicorns. They leap and gallop and spend their days helping people. Rainbows shine through the sky from their planet and they fly along the beams to land on the earth. Their light makes them so bright they are invisible to the human eye, only their myth lives on to tell the tales of their mysticism but no-one believes they are real. The unicorns fly here and there doing good deeds for people. On their planet there is an abundance of beautiful, exotic, colourful flowers more glorious than anything you’ve seen before. One day a unicorn named Skye saw a young girl making pancakes on her own. The young girl wished for friends to share them with, for laughter, and for happiness, so the unicorn Skye built a rainbow and travelled down to the earth. She transformed into a girl and went to this young girl’s house with a bunch of these wonderful flowers. Together they made the sweetest pancakes, laughed, danced, and joked until the sun set across the houses.

Try it some time 🙂

Teaching with Missionaries

My religious journey has progressed so that now rather than meeting up with missionaries each week to have lessons, I am going out with the missionaries to meet other people who are interested in the gospel. Now I am learning how to teach others about the joy, peace, and spiritual fulfilment that comes with understanding our interpretation of God. Because everyone has a different interpretation of God, I thought I could never accept God to be man. Yet I’m here, testifying with every fibre of my being that God lives and loves every one of us and I’m here sharing this message so that we may all have the option to follow this path.

Yesterday we taught three individuals entirely unique and entirely interesting. The first one, I will call Gary. We walked into his bedroom that was adorned in ACDC posters, a desk covered in paints sat in the corner and a gentle purple butterfly duvet cover was made on his bed. Gary was a short man, slightly hunched with shoulder length soft brown hair and stubble. I missed his eye colour; his gaze refused to hold mine as he spoke whilst perched on the corner of his bed looking towards the wall talking about ancient civilisations and religions. A cat leapt down from the top of his window-frame and crawled around our legs. As Elder Andrews and Elder Reynolds taught Gary about God’s plan for us I noticed that his forearms stretched down into tennis-ball sized disfigurements over his elbows. His fingers were bent like claws and he mentioned he had a disability. His beliefs were primarily based upon Paganism but he was willing and open to learning more. Although he had this interest in learning, he was also more interested in talking through the lesson. I recognised how God reaches the sick and afflicted, how this pain gives us an opportunity to seek God, but that we have to be willing to listen to God and His multiple ways of communicating with us.

Next we were to meet *Rachel. She had called four times because she was early and waiting in the cold for us to meet her so already we were anticipating the lesson with caution. Rachel was Indian with long thick black hair and large glassy brown eyes wearing camel-toned workman boots and joggers. She greeted us with a tear trickling down her cheek and distress oozing from pores in her dishevelled face. She said she had diabetes, had left her money at home and needed food and sugar straight away; the missionaries took her to a cafe to buy her food and sat down to talk. I joined them as Rachel told us she could see spirits, that she had good thoughts as well as evil thoughts trying to take over her mind. She said she felt good and strong and faithful, sometimes. On other occasions the darkness crept in and took her sanity as though she owed it for her sins. Spirits told her to get baptised, to be cleansed of her sins, and she wanted to. She needed our help and we had been sent to her. Months ago I had prayed to God asking, how can we stop this depression? How can we feel God’s love through depression? Is schizophrenia an attack from the opposition? Is a relationship with God enough to heal these illnesses? Is a relationship with God the solution instead of drowning in numbing medication? I was intrigued by Rachel’s life and her story and I was desperate to discover if the Lord could be almighty enough to heal this woman.

The missionaries and I took a break for lunch; they went to their flat to prepare hot food and I went to the library with a hot chocolate and my packed lunch. I walked up beside the park to re-join them and sat upon the entrance gate waiting. I gazed out at the stretching snow covered fields, wind whipped my hair and a flock of dark birds glided left then right then landed and shot up then dived then swept left and landed in synchronisation riding the current. Everything worked, everything harmonised and everything mattered. We approached *Tony’s flat where we climbed stairs to a damp scent and carpet blanketed in coarse, white dog hair. The lounge was cold as Tony had no wood for his fire resulting in regular early retirement to his bed where it was the warmest place in the house. Tony was an older gentleman with a blonde ponytail and beard, yellow teeth, wearing a colourful abstract jumper. His living room walls displayed Led Zeppelin memorabilia, an empty ashtray was on his coffee table, and his  beautiful husky visited each of us as we sat down on cream leather sofas. Our purpose this lesson was mostly to listen as Tony told us how he gave his time to charitable causes by helping the homeless. Through his past addictions he was able to share experiences and be the example to the people he helped that a positive future was possible. Giving his time pro-actively was admirable but he could not retain his negative thoughts about society. He saw so much of the destruction, the lack of gratitude, the lying, the neglected, but in a brief moment I explained how connecting with God helps you to overcome these thoughts and focus on the positive so that you’re able to contribute with peace of mind, so that God is always on your side and so that your head is clear for your heart to love. A busy mind prevents the heart from loving, and that’s the reason we are all here. To find God, and to love.

An Empowering way to Respond to Hurtful People

http://www.handsfreemama.com/2016/11/15/an-empowering-way-to-respond-to-hurtful-people/

This article helps to view a new perspective on situations when people are hurtful towards you or others. By no means does it excuse their behaviour, but it understands their behaviour and values every person as a teacher in the process of life to assist our growth. As Rachel Macy Stafford says, loving words and actions encourage us to fulfil our potential but hurtful words and actions can also motivate personal improvements when we learn from others what not to do in a non-judgemental way.

Spaces for Thinking and Writing

We live together, we co-inhabit,
Yet we merely pass between corridors
An hour before
My feet walk upon carpets we share,
Rarely we share anything else,
Rarely we exchange thoughts
Or feelings or laughter,
In these seven months
In this terraced house
Stacked between rows and rows
Of closed doors and littered porches,
Except for number 25
Who posted a Christmas card
And made me smile.

Friends are not things I can manifest,
Fairies were friends, books were friends,
Paper, a pen were friends,
Instead of talking to people
I write words that make no sense
Because they don’t listen anyway,
There’s nothing to talk about,
How can I be a friend
If I have nothing to say?
I’ll speak with my heart, with my arms,
With my hands, with my eyes,
With my silence, with my soul,
And you can try to understand
The gentle whispers I leave
That become lost in a crowded room.

My life is connected by experiences,
Hazy and distant collaborated
Alongside blank spaces
In which time is only for one thing,
As people live, socialise, talk, gather,
It is only imminent
That I attempt to comprehend
This world we live in,
Through tears and joy,
Pains and fears,
Through everything in between
That hasn’t found its way into the dictionary,
More of my life is for pondering upon this life
Than living this life,
For thinking, observing, analysing
Human tendencies, actions, words,
Feelings below the surface
Requiring x-ray vision on the soul.

Some parts are more interesting than others,
Some people I dive into more than others,
I’m not afraid of that,
But there’s a lot of pain around here,
I need to jump back out,
Clean my spirit,
Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of,
That the purpose of it all,
Is only to write about it all.

Memories of Freedom

I remember in the summertime
Collecting fresh green herbs,
Morn ’till night shone the sun
Upon my eager eyes,
Feasting on, oh devouring,
Landscapes pleasing to my heart,
Bella Italia, Bella Italia,

Words were hushed,
My lips sealed tight,
I searched for love
Amongst stars of night,
Between vineyards twisting
Waiting for a hand to clasp,
A palm grown strong
With creases that changed,
A life-line inventing and re-inventing
Like mountains I climbed up,
To reach the peak
And never come back down,
Because the wind loved me,
The sun loved me,
The breathing ground loved me,

Flames mesmerized my thoughts,
Before laying on a bed of fern leaves
Only between my body and
Cold, hard concrete,
I shivered and turned
Wearing a one euro jumper,
Whispering “I love to be free.”

You’re Missing and I’m Missing

Warmth on entering a home, laughter, small hands,
Excitement of overcoming obstacles,
Talking about the beauty of the moon
Reflecting in your eyes
As my head falls gently upon your perfect shoulder.
You are missing for as long as God keeps us apart.
For as long as He wants us to fight alone,
To swim in stormy seas,
And swing through jungle trees
While cheetahs leap at our ankles,
We fly alone until He says “enough!”
When my greatness and your greatness
Are good enough to combine.
Weak things He makes strong
And I have to be strong to make you strong.
He speaks through my words that fall into your heart
And my blackened lungs must heal
To trust you enough to love me for eternity.
I always dreamed of eternity
As my soul longed to visit the other side of earth
Where rainbows shine in snowflakes
That fall encompassed in tears of joy.

My fibres reached for you,
My skin crept beyond my fingertips
Stretching into the space
That separated me from your ribs I birthed from;
I searched for the bird inside your chest
As I crept and listened and shouted and pleaded,
And fell to my knees
Asking the night sky to give you back to me.
We were together once,
When you and I chose one another,
We knew we’d be apart.

I have run from my fears without your hand to hold,
Afraid that my soul would be snatched again,
Apprehensive to allow people to see my face
Beneath a white veil disguising a smile
That would live for you and die for you.

Our romance materialises
not from gestures or pastel words,
Not in communication or boldness
But in the silence of our peace
As we remember we were created together.
I have missed you,
And the emptiness you left
Is begging the stars to fill it
With the light you gave me before we lived here.

Time has become more bearable,
Are you getting closer to nourishing my heart
With the rhythm of the pulsing universe?
Find me, quick!
We’ll travel between layers of worlds upon worlds
And shoot arrows of willow
At galaxies leading us to divine exaltation.

via Daily Prompt: Missing