#shawl & meditation shawl

[powerinsan]

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[liveindiatimes]

Actor Sushmita Sen was diagnosed with Addison’s disease, here’s how she fought it and won - more lifestyle

http://www.liveindiatimes.com/actor-sushmita-sen-was-diagnosed-with-addisons-disease-heres-how-she-fought-it-and-won-more-lifestyle/

Actress Sushmita Sen revealed that she was diagnosed with Addison’s in 2014, and it was ‘meditating with Nunchaku’ that helped her overcome the disease.

Addison’s disease or adrenal insufficiency, occurs when your body doesn’t produce enough or produces too little cortisol and aldosterone. It occurs when the immune system of the body mistakenly attacks the adrenal glands located just above the kidneys. Autoimmune diseases account for 70% of this disease.

Sharing her battle with Addison’s, Sushmita took to her YouTube channel and wrote: “ After I was diagnosed with an Auto immune condition called Addison’s disease in September 2014, it left me feeling like, I had no fight left in me…A fatigued body filled with immense frustration & aggression. The dark circles under my eyes can’t even begin to explain the dark times I endured for 4 long years.

“To have steroids substitute cortisol and to live with its innumerable side effects took its toll. There is nothing more tiring than to live with a chronic illness. Enough was enough, I had to find a way of strengthening my mind, allowing my body to follow suit.”

Explaining how meditation with Nunchaku helped her, the “Main Hoon Na” actress added: “Meditated with #Nunchaku …Aggression out, fight back in and pain turned into an art form. I healed in time, my adrenal glands woke up, no more steroids, no withdrawals and no auto immune condition as of 2019.”

  She also shared about the lessons she learnt from the hard phase.

“No one knows your body better than you, listen to it. There is a warrior in all of us, never give up. Thank you to my Teacher Nupur Shikhare for being my rock through this journey.I love you guys,” Sushmita said.

  Along with it, Sushmita posted a video that shows her performing various steps with Nunchaku, which is a martial arts weapon, traditionally used in Okinawan style.

The actor in a throwback interview with film critic Rajeev Masand had also revealed how her children and her family has stood by her at this time and it’s also around the time when she met her beau Rohman Shawl.

— with inputs from IANS

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[tinymixtapes]

Feature: SXSW Music 2017

Music does the trick, but it is sound that I purely love. Any sound, any song. That is, primarily, I enjoy music because it is sound, not simply because it is music. Traffic, talk, rhythm, melody — if it’s audible, I’m listening. Forget the Spector in the studio: life is a wall of sound. By nature, sound stands in opposition to silence, and silence is the enemy. You guessed it, SXSW had some sound. The sound of a Gatorade rolling toward the gutter, the sound of a minor fender-bender in a drive-thru lane, the sound of a thousand snares on the three beat. Sure, if I let it, aural hedonism could’ve quickly turned into aural anhedonia; I didn’t let it. That’s what earplugs are for. The best method for extracting the nutrients out of the sap is through distillation. The complexity of the festival was an illusion, seemingly complex only because there was so much of everything everywhere. Boiled down, it was paleolithic, like when I stare at my wall and call it “caveman entertainment.” Like Jericho, SXSW had a lot of wall to go around. It mixed pleasure with pleasure, sound with sound, Gatorade with gutters. Regarding SXSW and friends, both official and unofficial, Yeast by Sweet Beast, Moogfest, Desert Daze, Holodeck Records, Resistor, KVRX, WNYU, WKVR: sounds good to me. --- Muzak John Any ghosts of juvenile poets left in Greenwich Village were in trouble when H-Town’s Muzak John let his strings loose. His popcorn, flashcard interpretations of blues, traditional, rock, poetry, and noise would make any poor singer-songwriter Saul fall off the pale horse of the Chelsea Hotel-brand saddle and see the light. From behind Muzak’s eyes, music genres are both relayed and rewritten. Like Barney Smith’s toilet seat art, history is treated respectfully, but also flexibly; customs made personal. But how those strings were on the loose, as flexible and as rubberfaced as Al St. John, as wild as an old yodeler shaking the morning dew off the mountain moss. --- Quttinirpaaq In the mid-afternoon, Quttinirpaaq jammed for health and longevity, building a dumping ground of positive feedback atop one short, measured rhythm. They rattled the longevity into nasty, the health into sickness. They made the swamp buzz with their interchangeable frets and horned necks, stirring up the ugly into a zone of comfort and confusion, like a whirlpool in the sea. This is why you should always bring your own amp to the gig. --- Suzanne Ciani Photo: Sean Hellfritsch The audience seemed eager to dance at the drop of an ostinato, but Suzanne Ciani set the boundaries, quadraphonic boundaries. Out of Ciani’s switchboard aviary, synthetic birds flew, bouncing around the quad, then free and outside the box, off the rock wall, around the corner, toward the Red River, down the winding path where I imagine there was much to see — uncommon trees, lights on and off left-to-right, eyes open or closed, a fluid, shifting structure, more switchboards — like the future of ping-pong. It was a celebration more than a meditation, great electronic music in flight, with the great outdoors flanked by a falling-rock zone. --- Curved Light Cleaned up and out of the isolation tank, sentinels they were, Peter Tran and Deirdre Smith, at their stations armed with their gear under the canopy. The Queen’s Guard doesn’t break character and neither did Curved Light. They were cool and still as cool and still can be. Their visuals did the walking, visuals which were complementary, sure, but not absolutely necessary. Their sound alone was evocative enough to generate image. It caused me to see what was actually there — like the saint in the garden with her nose eaten by the air — as well as to see — under the pineal microscope — made up stuff, like new fiction and new science, new condominiums, new Blade Runners, new facial expressions. --- Gary Wilson & Tredici Bacci Photo: Walter Wlordarczyk The rubber gloves came off when small town Friday night met Thursday’s pool party. The velvet jacket came off too, but then it went back on, over the head, then back off, back on. Then it was used as a whip, then as a prop, a shawl, a cave, a torch; a coronation, a ceremony. What else can one jacket do? Plenty with Gary. What can one big band do? Plenty, when it’s Tredici Bacci. Conducted by Simon Hanes, Tredici Bacci — guns-for-hire — turned the voltage up and hotwired Wilson’s timeless songs of longing, while Gary crawled on the floor, while Gary wanted to be alone. Dr. Frankenstein must have been up in heaven grinning wide, watching the odd glamor and sticky celluloid shine, watching the cement and analog laments cook to a crisp. --- How I Quit Crack Was it the Spring equinox when How I Quit Crack performed? Maybe it was, or maybe it was a combination of the blue sky and the hot Sun, the herbs growing in front of the tin can stage, the ladybug on the beer can, the fly on the T-shirt, the video projections on clean linen, and Tina Forbis and Chris Cones’ relaxed, confident attitude. It felt like tradition. It wasn’t all bluebonnets though. Their dark texture was like thick purple paint globbed onto a moldy, black-velvet canvas. The dead ringer delay and decay of Forbis’ vocals drifted over Cones’ lo-tribe rhythms and knife sharpening tricks, some of which must have been perfected in the woodshed, some in the knife sharpener’s truck, some in the magic shop, where the dragon slept upstairs, its tail wagging out the window in celebration of life. --- Roky Erickson Then Spring fling turned Autumn horror. Roky Erickson sat facing the moon and clouds, with a guitar in lap, surrounded by treble bliss, nodding his approval at the shrieks and feedback, admiring his own unholy creation, howling out, It’s the Night of the Vampire! like Gothic gospel. The live rendition was comparable to the original recording of “Night of the Vampire,” that hymn of horror, yet went beyond it, an unreal classic made more unreal by Erickson and his backing band, the Hounds of Baskerville. They refused to transport back to 1966 or 1981; tonight, the vampire was alive, painlessly — or painfully — brought to life under the stars and sky, where the moon hits your eye like a big liquid slide, spinning and spitting oil, in a big liquid light show. Was I supposed to smile or shiver? http://j.mp/2oqza4C

[powerinsan]

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Meditation Shawl or Blanket, Exotic Shawl/Wrap, Oversize Scarf or Stole, Unisex, Boho Scarf for Women, Lightweight, Floral Printed Scarf, Fall, Winter, Fashion, Fringed Shawl, Cashmere Stole, 100% Cashmere, Gorgeous & Natural, Extra Large Scarf, Wrap, Scarfs for Women, Fall, Winter, Scarves, Pashmina Shawls and Wraps for Evening Dresses, Beautiful meditation shawls. One for me and one for a…