yoga, mantras, movies
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I am here to make friends, serve others, and attract fellow artisans to my Yoga Revolution.I am no guru, I am just a guy whose past included, drugs, alcohol, womanizing and other selfish and mind numbing activities. While I admit I am not racked with guilt for my past, I am trying to do the right thing now. I understand that all types of selfish behavior goes on, and that it generally ends badly. It seems a bit obvious, now, that the dogged pursuit of self interest ends in pain, suffering, or some other type of discomfort.However, I am not interested in arm chair philosophy nor am I interested in religion. I am interested in spirituality. I would like to know about the nature of the absolute truth – if indeed it exists.I have found in yoga and in the teachings of the Vedic sages (the ancients who brought us yoga) a deeply attractive process.I have been part of yoga since I was a small boy (my mother was a teacher in the 70’s.) But it was not until I was in India in 1997 that I got a glimpse of what is possible. In a series of experience on the banks of the river ganges, that I could only describe as weird – “comic book weird.â€Well one thing led to another now I am running a cool Yoga teacher training program all over the world. But I need help. So if you can shoot, edit, web design, animate, or desktop publish, and you want to learn how to teach yoga you could take my teacher training as an exchange.Your servant with love,Atma
libera, thomas otten, benedictine monks, radha krishna temple, temple bhajan band, any thing my friend and teacher dravida does...I also like electronica and heavy thrash metal (especially if it has mantras)
I love cinema and as a hooby review films from Vedic perspective. Vist www.vedicfilmcritc.com
heroes, studio 60
vedic texts, puranas, Bhagavad Gita, tipping point, and alls sort of literature, wilde, rilke, thoreau, whitman, rimbaud, checkov, shakespeare,
THE FINAL HERO: Prologue to the Hidden Truth of Yoga -Historians would grant us little terrain but what flakes and crumbles through their dry and speculating hands and yet time grinds ever onward, mercilessly (or perhaps mercifully) leaving behind their hollow gestures of fingering our past to be one single journey and describing the ascent of man as the victory of mind over matterFrom chemicals now forgotten they’d have man rise up from primordial soup to become composers of music and builders of ships. 2 billion years of history childishly reduced to 10,000 filling in the remaining and pesky albeit abysmal gaps with fantasies conjured from bags of bones and stones.And we would have lied down acceptingly - like the innocent and naive milkmaid who vulnerable to the color of authority meekly submits - were it not for the appearance of an unimaginably wise and equally brave hero, the final hero really.He came without fear of death, pain, or ridicule. He was all in all selfless and without concern for his person. He seemed beautiful beyond words dressed in robes the color of fire, looking with endlessly deep eyes and a face so calm and filled with compassion that it appeared to hold the hope of the brightest break of day.And he came not just once, but again and again, each time he shared, cajoled, listened, laughed and cried with us. Each time we felt renewed and could see beyond the dimming disease of leering zealots or sad soul’d scholarsAlas in time we would forget and fact would become fiction; ancient truths would, turn to myth…