English Recordings

Everyone who comes into our lives is a mirror for us . that which we see in others is only seen because it is within us as well.

Being stacking in the past is like walking forward with your back facing the front. You’ll always miss out on what’s in front of you.

Ok Here is my Merry Good time Hello and Salutation to all you amazing people all over the world that make this page and my life a world of inspiration, change, support, laughter and occasional tears too! This is all part of lifes richness the experience of all emotions. Dont run and hide from them my friends, for feeling and living each and every emotion is what truly makes us whole ~

Todays ponderings are bubbling under the surface for me and rather than plan and edit etc as is my way, i shall write and share these musings from my heart. So beware (and please no need to critisize!) of spelling and grammatical errors they are likely to be rife as i spill out my soulmusings~

I would like to talk more about allowing ourselves to be hurt emotionally by other peoples words and actions and how we can overcome this and moreover how we MUST utilize each and every experience to learn and grow for ourselves, for the stronger and richer we become, the more beauty and wealth we spread ~

I know alot of my musings are just extensions of many of the quotes but i fiercely believe in repetition and angular attacks, in that i mean wrapped it up in different paper, add a special ingredient, a little addition can often make something even more appealing to some, just as gilding the lily can be too much for others. So in my effort to reach those that would like a little extra spice and sparkle ~

Recently there have been four words bouncing around from side to side in my brain ~ Hurt ~ Guilt ~ Mirror ~ Anger

It seems to me that it is not unusual for these to go together, we are mostly aware of the theory that people come into our lives to teach us that which we need to learn and very often they are mirroring an reflecting back to us that which we must see, feel, acknowledge and deal with, in which ever way we choose. This to me is reflected in one of my favourite phrases, and one we could all do with remembering and re-enforcing into our brains when we are hurting from anothers words or actions.

'When someone is pointing the finger at you, look closely for three fingers are pointing back at them !'

This is another re-enforcement and sign or how so often it is their stuff!! After all the universe did not devise us to point all fingers at another person at once, did it!

So i dont want to go on and on here but it seems to me that sometimes people who feel GUILTY about their own stuff will POINT a finger at that another ANGRILY causing pain to the other person!

The real wonder to me of this is the MIRROR and FINGERS ~ the symbiosis of the dance ~ if we are truly intent on growing ourselves to be better, healthier happier kinder nourishing and nourished humanbeings we MUST pay attention. Perhaps the person is their to mirror to you that also sometimes act in this manner ? Are we so busy being hurt, we dont even see that this is a mirror of our own behaviour at times? After all, while we are busy being hurt, even if only in our own minds arent we too pointing that finger at the culprit that hurt us?

If so, look at your fingers, why are three pointing back to you, what do you need to learn ? Namaste my friends ♥

Now pick up that phone or send someone a message just telling them that you thought of them and SMILED !!! It should make you smile and them and then maybe just maybe they will pass it on too.....Just imagine the ripple .............Life is ..............
—

We act as though comfort and luxury were the chief requirements of life, when all that we need to make us really happy is something to be enthusiastic about.

Shaman:
This blade has a dark past.
It has shed much innocent blood.

You're a fool for traveling alone,
so completely unprepared.

You're lucky your blood's still flowing.

Sintel:
Thank you.

Shaman:
So...

What brings you to
the land of the gatekeepers?

Sintel:
I'm searching for someone.

Shaman:
Someone very dear?
A kindred spirit?

Sintel:
A dragon.

Shaman:
A dangerous quest for a lone hunter.

Sintel:
I've been alone for
as long as I can remember.

We're almost done. Shhh...

Hey, sit still.

Good night, Scales.

Get him, Scales! Come on!

Scales?

Yeah! Come on!

Scales!

I have failed.

Shaman:
You've only failed to see...

These are dragon lands, Sintel.

You are closer than you know.

Shaman:
Scales!

Scales?

Scales...

1. BEGUM’S TRICK

(1) The greatest Mogul Emperor is Akbar. He was very fond of his empress Begum. The Empress wanted the post of Wazir for her brother.
However, the Wazir’s post was occupied by Birbal. Birbal was a brilliant intellect and was apple of Akbar’s eye. Nevertheless, she decided to plead with the Emperor for her brother.

(2) In the evening, when Akbar returned to the palace, the empress said, “Jahanpanah, my brother is an able person. Besides this, he is your relative. He must get the post of Wazir.”

(3) The Emperor exclaimed and said, “Begum, Wazir’s post requires extraordinary intelligence and administrative experience. Your brother is new in this field. Besides this, there is no reason to remove Birbal.”
The Empress was adamant. She replied, “If there is no reason, give him some work which he could not do.”

(4) The Emperor asked, “What? Then you tell me.” Begum thought for some time and then said, “Tomorrow evening while walking in the palace garden, you ask Birbal to call me from my palace. He will never succeed in his task. And then there will be at least one reason.”

(5) The Emperor agreed. The Empress was very much sure that Birbal would certainly fail this time. She knew Birbal could not force her to come in the palace garden. On the next day when Akbar was in the garden, Birbal accompanied him.

(6) The Emperor pretended to be worried. Birbal asked Akbar the reason for his worry.
Akbar said, “Birbal, the Empress has displeased with me and refuses to talk. You know how much I love her here.”

(7) Birbal agreed and left from there. He at once approached Begum in the palace. Begum was waiting for his arrival.
Birbal said, “Begum Sahiba, the Emperor is in the palace garden. He is waiting for you there!”

(8) Hardly has he completed his sentence a messenger entered the chamber and whispered something in the ear of Birbal. Begum listened some words, “…very beautiful …No …no! … no need to come…!”
The messenger then left. Birbal turned towards Begum and said: “Begum Sahiba, sorry for the trouble. Now you are no more required there.”

(9) Birbal was gone, but Begum thought about the words for a long time. “ ’Very beautiful’ seems a beautiful maiden, but what she is doing in the garden? It seems because of her Emperor stopped me from coming there!” thought the Empress who was badly disturbed.

(10) At last unable to bear her distress and envy, she rushed towards the garden. When she reached there, she found Akbar alone. Seeing her there, the Emperor asked, “Begum, you said to me that you could win Birbal this time. But it seems the whole thing turned in the favour of Birbal.”

(11) The Empress was ashamed and said, “I have been fooled by Birbal. Once again Birbal succeeded. However, I accept his wisdom. I take back my words. He is the most suitable person for it.”

A country with 1.4 billion people and an annual economic growth rate of 10% (China) should not be hailed as a success story if it is building a new coal power station every week and causing untold damage to the environment. That is in effect the view of the Arctic hunters and one which I endorse.
Later on this year, the population of the world will reach seven billion. The pernicious combination of this uncontrolled population growth and the finite mineral resources of the planet are undoubtedly the biggest threats to the environment. Unless we take appropriate action and implement policies on these fronts, the disappearance of a small, isolated culture in the Arctic may be a microcosm for a much more apocalyptic outcome. For many, it may seem irrelevant if we lose a culture numbering fewer than a thousand people, but if the Polar Eskimos come to be the canary in the cultural coalmine, then such a loss may have more relevance than some people feared.
If I were to be asked what it is these Arctic hunters want, I would say "peace". This is a people that have never known war. But, by "peace" I would mean not just an absence of war but a return to what you might call in Rousseauesque terms "harmony". There are people in the Thule region that believe the industrialised, polluting nations are living in a state of disharmony with nature, gambling with the world's future by seeking nothing but material gain for themselves in the short term.
The ice is melting. The melting ice will presumably wipe out the traditional culture of the few remaining Arctic hunters in my lifetime, but ultimately, if not stopped, it will threaten the lives of millions around the world. The politicians keep talking, but the ice just keeps melting and the inescapable conclusion will not go away. The hunters look at the thinning sea ice and their message is simple: the clock is ticking.

The Polar Eskimos do not tend to be intellectually curious. Seldom does anybody ask about the place I come from. However, sometimes I am asked how many people live in the United Kingdom. The Greenlanders are well aware that they inhabit the country with the lowest population density on earth, but I always feel embarrassed to admit that over 60 million people are crammed into our little island. Greenland is a country nine times the size of the UK, but the population of the UK is more than a thousand times that of this vast island in the Arctic. The subsequent question, normally, is how I could live in such an overcrowded, multicultural, polluted place where the bond to nature is not only severed, but no longer understood either. The reason for the embarrassment on my part is perhaps because I know that the industrialised country that I come from is a comparatively major polluter whose economy and thirst for economic growth jeopardises indirectly an ancient, simple way of life whose demands on the natural environment are almost zero.
Before coming to the Arctic, I was convinced that we needed a new paradigm for looking at the world. We have reached the point where the pursuit of economic growth at the expense of everything else can only lead to ruin for mankind. We need to develop a system which would turn this model on its head, forcing investors to allocate funds and reward companies, and indeed countries, not solely for their respective growth in earnings or annual percentage increase in GDP, but directly and quantitatively for their progress in having developed green, sustainable products and economies. Having spent much time talking to the Arctic hunters who bear the costs of environmental damage, I am convinced of the need for a new approach to assessing what we consider to be "economic success", and also for the introduction of urgent policies to curtail the world's population growth.

Far in the distance sits an i'duaq (a hut built on a sledge where you can escape the cold on fishing trips): a small speck on a landscape of white nothingness. In this part of the bay, the sea ice is about a metre thick and making a hole in the ice with a shovel is hard work. We drop a line from an industrial-sized reel attached to a two-handed winch standing vertically on a metal frame in the ice. Twenty-five hooks are lowered 200 metres down into the fjord. Then, it is time to retreat to the warmth of a Primus stove and a cup of tea in a tiny plaster board hut measuring no more than 7ft square.
Approaching the hut, I hear the creaky voice of a man and offer the traditional greeting of inugguarunai on entering (this is a word used by older people to mean "hello", but means literally "look, there are some people" – an indication perhaps of how language reflects culture). Going inside this diminutive raised room perched on a sledge is a surreal experience and one of those defining moments of a fieldwork trip.
Here, miles from anywhere on the frozen sea in a forgotten place, lies a man asleep on a skin on the sleeping platform. Three men, clad in bearskin trousers and reindeer-skin anoraks, sit huddled together listening to a storyteller regale his company with an account of a polar bear hunt. It is rude to interrupt a story, and thus my greeting is not reciprocated with the conventional ahukiaq.
There is nowhere to sit and even though my head rests awkwardly on the ceiling of the hut and my bulky down coat fills the little remaining space, I feel paradoxically rather invisible. When stories are offered for payment, it is tempting to think of this oral literature as commoditised and in effect dead. But, here on hunting trips, these traditions do just about continue in an unforgettable atmosphere of breathy voices lingering over steaming cups of cha. The story over, it is time to check our lines, leaving the fugitive hospitality behind. We have caught 17 Greenland halibut and one northern wolffish: a splendid return for two hours' tea-drinking.

Curled-up dogs lie in large circles on the hummocky shore ice, their rusty chains leading from a spike frozen into the ice like spokes on an old, buckled wheel. Jaundiced patches of urine and dog faeces decorate the ice, tampering with its aesthetic of purity. Beyond, the newly snow-covered sea ice stretches as far as the eye can see.
The much anticipated nigeq, a strong wind from the east, brought a platonic white carpet of snow and warmer temperatures at the weekend. The appeal of this white wilderness is tangible and I have been exploring it on skis, armed with a rifle and a VHF radio. Today I have the company of a hunter and a full team of 12 frenzied dogs whose fettered anguish is about to be set free. Trying to put harnesses on snarling, hysterical dogs soon degenerates into mayhem, with fights breaking out amid a chorus of high-pitched screams and yelps. The hunters' whip skimming over their cowered heads silences the pandemonium, and then suddenly we are on our way and I am left to sprint after the rapidly disappearing napariaq (the pair of wooden stanchions at the rear of a sledge).
There is something majestic about the sight of a solitary Polar Eskimo driving a dog team across the frozen sea ice, navigating his way around icebergs, sitting contentedly, listening to the crunch of the runners on the snow and reading the wind from the striae on the ice. The appeal is perhaps its primeval simplicity, but also its timelessness.