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While the outside world is sometimes beyond your control, the inside world is always under your control! Happy International Yoga Day. Secured Engineers Pvt. Ltd. | Seoz Fire Call Now: 070099 87817 ๐ฉ Email: sales@securedengineers.com ๐ Website: https://securedengineers.com/
When the Worldย Stopped My toes gripped the mat as my palms spread and pressed downwardโฆdownward dog. I breathed deeply and tried to slow my racing mind. I reminded myself that this was my time-my moment in a day of the never-ending carousel of days punctuated by masks, social distancing and an increasingly violent news cycle. I had nowhere to go and nowhere to be regardless of the yoga. Covid and its threat was enveloping our country, and my familiar yoga studio was shuttered. So, I remained on my yoga mat surrounded by disinterested teens and a curious dog as my virtual yoga class continued on the screen. My twice daily at home practice bookended a monotonous workday of never-ending phone calls and ceaseless rejection- 'No, we are trying to keep our business afloat not spend 100K on software." Even I understood how absurd my job was at that moment. But I persisted until the day ended when I could escape to my mat and exhale all the negativity from my "dream job" and find my center-my breath. People think yoga is about the achievement of the pose, but the true focus of yoga is the breath. No pose is possible without mastering your breath. You breathe to calm the mind, you breath to set an intention, and you breathe to deepen your stretch into a pose. Ujjayi Pranayama or Victorious Breath is created by restricting your breath in the back of the throat inviting a deeper connection to those practicing around you- even those on the other side of a computer screen. More important, it invites you to a deeper connection with your inner self. Without Ujjayi Pranayama, yoga is just stretching and without a deep connection to your inner self, you're just existing. For me, the understanding of breath was the start. In fact, the more I practiced the sound of the ocean in my throat, the more I found myself moving in an inhale/exhale motion through once mindless tasks chasing the sense of calm and focus that I could only find on my mat or at a keyboard creating. Who Did I Think Iย Was? As quarantine persisted with more uncertainty, yoga was where I found my solace and calm. It was during this time that I allowed myself to imagine a life where I was would be free to refocus on the creative callings that stirred within me. It seems yoga was awakening not just long ignored muscles, but my desire to claim the life I craved. With this in mind, I explored the idea of a yoga certification. What would that look like particularly in the post-Covid world? How would I achieve it? And most important, who did I think I was anyway? All these answers would come in the most likely place-my yoga mat.However, did teaching yoga align into my higher purpose like finishing my second novel? I was working in software sales because I liked it. No-that's a lie. I was working in sales because I wanted to make a lot of money. I looked to some magical income number that would allow me to escape the corporate world to inspire others with my writing and teach yoga. I had resigned myself to sales for safety. After all, who was I to decide that I would embrace my talents. So, I chose misery-at my job (it was never about the job), my co-workers (it was never about them), and my lack of process on elusive goals (guess what-the goals weren't the problem either). I was my own worst problem. I was the person in my own way. My mind finally realized that there was only one way, and I already had the answers. The second that I merely dipped my toe in the direction of my dreams, a door opened immediately. I would waffle for a few more weeks before taking a step and walking through the door completely and shutting it on my former career behind me. Brave Newย World Yogaโฆit saved me and continues to save me every day. My body releases and relaxes as I flow through the movements and center my mind and breath. I still strive to shut out the day-the deadlines, the to-dos, and the nagging feeling in my cavegirl mind as I lay in shavansa that I am cheating on my productive self. But once I let go and give in, an organic peace of mind centers and focuses me for whatever might lie ahead. Yoga created the understanding in me that life is not the work we do but the space we inhabit every day. Understanding this allowed me to reconcile that my desires in life from writing my next novel to sharing the transformative path of yoga with others would continue to crowd my space unless I took a leap and let go. Just as in yoga, I had to let go of the ideas and thoughts threatening to crowd my head. I had to finally acknowledge that I knew exactly who I was and that my corporate journey needed to end. As I deepen my yoga practice, the rest of my life aligns to answer the call. I am able to take this time of great uncertainty and breathe unapologetic certainty into my mind, my heart and my soul. Yoga reveals to me that I must let my mind unravel to possibility instead of wrapping my mind around opportunities not meant for me.
Plagiarism is taken as a crime in many institutions around the world. This act has been condemned by many scholars claiming that it is not right to steal or copy someone's else work. There is a many reasons that make this student do it. But what is the main reason for this? There is no answer to this question. Some say maybe its because the student didn't know that it is illegal or they want to acquire easy success by using others work. Some students do it without knowing. But the law doesn't look whether you did it intentionally or accidentally, a crime is a crime. The punishment to it is very severe and many students regret it after getting the punishment. It might lead to being expelled from the institution or getting no grade. "In most serious cases, students appear at hearings behind closed doors" (Kelly Heyboer). Many authors have lost their names and value after being accused of plagiarism. It is a very bad and sad thing. I remember seeing one of my schoolmate doing plagiarism. She was told to write a book for a lesson in her class but she didn't like writing. She was forced to write the book because without writing it she wont get some points for the final exams. She had no other option, she had to copy and write the book. This kind of act was not good and I don't support it. She was lucky that she wasn't caught doing it. This is because some countries don't investigate or punish Plagiarism. She wasn't caught here but her days are numbered. If she does this again in another country that condemn Plagiarism, she will regret it. According to me what I could do to avoid Plagiarism is that I will write what is in mind. Believe in myself and my work. Be proud of whatever I write, do more practices and work hard to improve myself. Because what I believe is that what's yours no one can take it from you and their is nothing that will make you happy than seeing your work done by you. Even if its not good improve yourself, we learn from our mistakes. No matter how many times you fail, stand up again and continue from where you left. In a matter of time you will win. You will never regret it and you will be proud of yourself.
When all this started, I saw a meme on social media. The toned lower half of a body hanging out behind a refrigerator door. "Me at the beginning of quarantine." Then the body is changed to show a really big fat one. "Me at the end of quarantine." I didn't want to be the fat one. So I've spent the last 10 weeks really working on my physical fitness. I'm fortunate enough to have a room in my home that is a dedicated home gym. It used to be my daughter's room, but she's now in her 20s and doesn't use it anymore and I was so tired of looking at it... And, I have a Peloton. In the beginning, I was already very close to my goal weight. So I switched it up and started focusing on doing more strength training and building my muscles. These ten weeks have made a big difference in my weight, shape, confidence, and the way I feel. So much better. This proved to me my dreams are possible. It just takes a little time and a lot of daily, dedicated focus.
All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.
My mother went home to her mother to have me. Though she had left Alabama for good reason, she stayed there for three months. When she came back to New York with her new baby, my father was living with someone else. We lived in Manhattan, on the lower edge of Spanish Harlem when the 3rd Ave El was still up. Mom and her business partner made window decorations for department stores, travel agents, etc. Not much money. In the 1940's there were no reliable babysitters or daycare centers, and Mom was struggling. After 3 months my grandma came and took me away. I lived with her and my grandpa for a year. The maid took care of me. I remember screaming in the crib and no one came. I'll never forget standing in my crib trying to see around the corner into the next room where the adults were pleasantly conversing. Eventually Mom found a babysitter, more like a foster mother, in Queens, and brought me back from Alabama. She could hardly make the rent on her 5th floor walkup railroad flat in Manhattan and also pay the babysitter $25/week. She skimped on food, but at least she could visit me. My memories of the three years in the babysitter Mama Rose's house are fond ones. I remember jumping down the last three or four steps of the staircase onto her light blue carpet. My crib was upstairs. One time my mom and Mama Rose covered me with blanket after blanket. I must have been falling asleep because I remember many too many blankets. Mama Rose was a retired cook, quite rotund. She read me Rumpelstiltskin while I lay beside her in her bed, sliding into the deep crevasse made by her body and unavoidably snuggling. She had a cocker spaniel that bit me once. I don't remember the bite but I am afraid of dogs, even my own dog. When I grew up I wanted to offer some little girl the experience of total commitment and security. I tried to adopt four times, but I didn't hang on hard enough. The first was when my son was 2 and an unwed mothers' home placed a 2-week old girl with my then husband and me. She thrived, full of smiles. At six months she would turn over and start crawling off the edge of the bed while I was trying to change her diapers. I even breastfed her a little. My husband moved out and the home took her back. Twelve years later, as a single parent, I had my own daughter. When she was six I adopted a girl from India who, unannounced by the adoption agency, turned out to be severely intellectually disabled. The social worker placed her with a family in the midwest who were professionals working with developmentally disabled children. My daughter and I went to Bangladesh as tourists. People there said I could have any child to adopt. We went to an orphanage, but they would not give children to a single mother. We went up into the hill tracts and met a family who wanted me to take their daughter for a better life, but she was not an orphan. In the end I paid for that little girl to go to school and years later heard that she married a more educated man because she can read and write. My later husband was Bangladeshi. He was to some extent a patron of a number of semi-dependent people from his village. The wife of a friend of his won the lottery and immigrated to America with her seven children and their illiterate father. I wasn't willing for them to live in my house, but I took in one of his daughters and educated her. In that case the adoption was finalized, but after three years she wanted to return to her family and I acquiesced. Of course, I still dream about taking in little girls, for instance refugees from Syria, but despite repeated attempts, secure attachment has eluded me. Even the daughter I gave birth to is not as close as I had hoped. I no longer act on that dream.