The ability to "be bendy", as I often refer to yoga class as bendy class, is more than a physical trait. With everything going on in the world right now, it is important to remember to always be flexible. Be open to change. Be grounded and centered in your world but also be able to go with the flow. To remember to breathe, deeply and wholly, in order to provide your brain the oxygen it needs to process all of the comings and goings and economic crises and sales people meltdowns and changes in procedure and…the list goes on and on. I suppose it all boils down to remembering to listen to your body, treat it well and it will return the favor, which you can then reflect as positive energy into the world around you.

Sounds a little on the crunchy side, sure…but there's a lot of truth to be found in a good, releasing downward dog. 

namaste.

When the stock market falls, or when you lose your job, or when your house burns to the ground, or when circumstances seem to change drastically for the worse... are you really any less secure?

Is God more in control when things are going the way we think they should go?

Does God have less sovereign power and wisdom when things go array in our lives?

Is the LORD of all the Universe bound or limited by our means and methods to earn money, protect ourselves, etc...?

Can we really be any more or less secure when our circumstances change?

The truth of the matter, for Christians, is that we are never more or less secure because of our situations or circumstances.  (Romans 8:28-39)

For those of you in SW Michigan, before you order special needs foods and pay shipping, consider Sawall's.  (Sorry, they don't seem to have a website! >:-|) They recently remodeled and expanded and they have a large selection of allergy friendly foods.  I'll go back there, if only for the choco chips!

Today was a pretty good day.  The boys worked hard on their various tasks.  We are far from finished with everything we probably should've accomplished today, school wise.  We did make great strides in the right direction.

I realized at about 9:30 that we didn't have dinner tonight.  That never happens!  Someone usually says something about dinner.

Our day was quite productive.  Our consumption of apples was about 10 times greater than the average grocery shopping day.  Dub kicked off the applefest with homemade cider.  Mmmmm!  He has been asking to put some apples through the juicer, so now that he is old enough to clean the horrible thing when he is finished with it, I let him.  Everyone was glad! :)

Homer used the leftover shreds of apple from Dub's adventure to make something like apple croquettes.  I don't have any idea how he made them, but they were good!

Not to be outdone by the big guys, Gabe made an apple omlet with the second batch of apple remains.  I have no idea how that came out, tastewise, but it smelled really good.

We ran out of trash bags today.     It's amazing how the lack of trash bags can impede progress for the homemaker!  Mr. N picked some up on his way home from work and I felt like a new woman!

I made a huge dent in cleaning my bedroom today.  It's amazing how the lack of trash bags can impede progress for the bedroom cleaner!  I did a lot of seasonal clothing switching this weekend and now that my Rubbermaid containers are full, I found more clothes that need to be put away until spring.  Prior to finding my favorite thrift store, we never had an abundance of clothes.  I am thankful that the LORD has blessed my family with enough clothes that my containers are crammed full and can't fit the rest of our summer stuff.  That has never happened before!

I found a broken pen in the washer this evening.  After I discovered ink all over the clothes in the dryer.  It could've been worse.  I could've discovered the ink in a load good clothes.  I'll probably need to replace a couple pair of Mr. N's casual pants, but that's about it.   It breaks my heart to have to go back to the thrift store.  (Ha!  More like my pocketbook! ;)  )

Dub and Homer are about an inch from being the same height.  When did that happen?!

Today we've started concentrating on Proverbs in our memorization and some of the passages specifically about wisdom.   Our verse for this week is Proverbs 1:7 - The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge,  but fools despise wisdom and discipline.  As a homeschooler, a Christian one at that, the first part of that verse is always an encouragement to me.  Though the books we use are important, it's not about the books.  The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge.  If we focus on Him, the rest will come.

Well, it has been a long day and I'm tired.  Good night, sleep tight, and don't let the bad dogs bite!  :)

I returned the email and said that I was super busy with a variety of things and asked, "Is there anything in particular that you need?"

What comes back to me?

Sounds like you really have your hands full, but maybe sometime when your not so busy you'd like to have dinner or grab some coffee, whatever you like is fine with me.

Aarghhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I guess it's time to be very direct.

Like all marriages, we’ve had our share of highs and lows – if I may add, more highs than lows.

It does sometimes still annoy me that I have married a family and not a person. As an only child of a very individualistic family, there is no personal experience that I came with that would have made me run in the opposite direction from a situation like that or warned me that it would be difficult.

But if I were celebrate one of the many great things about our marriage, it would probably be that we both have the space to exist as completely different people. With the individualistic family background baggage, that is more important than I realized.

It is indeed a special thing to always have the freedom to pursue your dreams or just the space to be the person that you want to be everyday.

Thank you Manoj! Thank you life!

So much to be scared of or worried about these days... seems like everywhere you turn, there is news of impending or present doom. Amidst all of the posturing and conjecturing, what's a girl to do? What's God's will at such a time as this? The answer is simple - give thanks. The Bible instructs us to give thanks to God IN ALL THINGS. It's so easy to overlook the blessings, and they are oh-so-many.

So as for me, I give thanks. I thank God for my son's football team (the Lake Mary Rams) winning their homecoming game tonight. Lord knows they needed a win to encourage their hearts. I thank God for Baby Joshua who was supposed to need surgery on his heart immediately after birth. He was born 7 weeks premature, yet his heart and lungs are strong and healthy and he didn't even need to be hooked on to any machines. I thank God for my ladies at The Well. I'm so proud of those Pink warriors! I thank God for my beautiful family, whom I sometimes take for granted, but I'd take a bullet for anyday.

One more thing... I thank God it's Friday and I can sleep in tomorrow - booyah! Bon weekend, everyone! :)

I
We remember the Mahatma not because of what he said, but what he did.

Tolerance is not you standing on a mountain, banging your chest, and proclaiming to the world, “I am tolerant”.

That is aggressive arrogance.

Tolerance is lived in our lives everyday.

How tolerant will I be today?

II
I say that my tolerance has reached its limits.

But isn’t my tolerance, with inscribed limits, another word for intolerance?

(PS. To you lovely ladies out there, Eid Mubaraq!)

At the age of 38, you have to at least appreciate being asked for your number by a 24 year old. For a second. When you tell people that this happened, there are the usual comments, congratulating you on the feat. The word cougar is usually mentioned with a little nudging. But when I tell my teacher friends, it's a completely different reaction. Ewww. Creepy. Ick.

About a week after school started I got an email from said student.

R U there?

I replied to this email: Yes, you have the correct email, Adam.

What happens? I get another email.

how was your first week of school?

Huh? What? Does he want a pen pal? I waited around and asked my friends while we decompressed from a week of school over a beer on a Friday. We agreed that I should wait until the end of the weekend to respond. That way there wouldn't be any time left to get together. Honestly, I completely forgot to respond.

This morning when I got to school, I checked my email.

i haven't heard from you in awhile, how have you been?

Geeze! I thought he would just fade away. Dkzody recently got an email from a former student. I want one like hers. Want to trade? Pretty please?!

So now I need to contemplate what to send to the former student. I don't think I can pretend that I never got it. They sure don't teach you how to deal with this situation in teacher school.

In any case, just this afternoon, I found myself watching Miley Cyrus’s music video. The one for her single ‘Seven Things’. The title is inaccurate, I counted. She hated and loved more than seven things.

I won’t deny my love for pop music. They’re intensely catchy and being serious all the time has its consequences. So even though I completely disagree with everything Katy Perry said in her supposedly bisexual yet ultimately homophobic song, I still find myself singing along with it.

But that isn’t even my point.

As I was watching Miley Cyrus and some other young people, I found myself feeling rather old. And I understand that twenty is a pretty young age to be feeling that. Actually, I’m only nineteen.

Perhaps it’s a bit prudish of me to be thinking this but I thought it odd for this sixteen year old girl to be singing about love. And then there’s this other young person named Demi Lovato, famous for the Disney movie Camp Rock. She has this song which passionately declares her ‘individuality’

I don’t want to come off as someone who bashes these young people because I’d like to think I’m still a young person. I don’t even want to say that they’re doing anything wrong.

However, what do they really know? What do we really now?

Both these… ah, singers sound so passionate about what they do. And a tiny part of me admires that. It’s all very cute, all this idealism. They sing about being who they are and standing up for their real identities. I wonder if they really know. I wonder if being who you really are is always nice and shiny.

Will they become as cynical as I seem to be at the moment?

I once had all these ideas about love. The way Miley Cyrus sings about it. And at one point, I also had ideas about the “this is real and this is me and this is exactly how I want to be.”

A lot of my views have changed. I have suspended my belief in God, my self-loathing has evolved into self-destructive tendencies and love is now a myth.

Disney movies make me feel alienated, except maybe for Wall-E but only because of the fat people in carts and the fact that we will soon be a planet of Something-Marts plus the heap of trash. All the talk about being who you are seems like… well, a load of bullshit. It only applies to people who are either pretty or extremely talented.

I will stop myself before I go into a full rant about something trivial.

They say it’s sad when you grow up. I guess twenty is still young but… I don’t really feel regretful about not having the same mindset as Miley Cyrus. I like different things now and I believe in different things now. I’d like to think that it means I grew up and it actually feels nice.

Fable XVIII - The painter who pleased nobody and everybody

Lest men suspect your tale untrue,

Keep probability in view.

The traveller leaping o'er those bounds,

The credit of his book confounds.

Who with his tongue hath armies routed,

Makes ev'n his real courage doubted.

But flattery never seems absurd;

The flatter'd always take your word:

Impossibilities seem just:

They take the strongest praise on trust.

Hyperboles, though ne'er so great,

Will still come short of self-conceit.

So very like a Painter drew,

That every eye the picture knew;

He hit complexion, feature, air,

So just, the life itself was there.

No flattery with his colours laid,

To bloom restor'd the faded maid;

He gave each muscle all its strength;

The mouth, the chin, the nose's length;

His honest pencil touch'd with truth,

And mark'd the date of age and youth.

He lost his friends, his practice fail'd;

Truth should not always be reveal'd;

In dusty piles his pictures lay,For no one sent the second pay.

Two bustos, fraught with every grace,

A Venus' and Apollos face,

He plac'd in view; resolv'd to please,

Who ever sat he drew from these,

From these corrected every feature,

And spirited each awkward creature.

All things were set; the hour was come,

His palette ready o'er his thumb;

My Lord appear'd; and, seated right,

In proper attitude and light,

The Painter look'd, he sketch'd the piece,

Then dipt his pencil, talk'd of Greece,

Of Titian's tints, of Guido's air;

'Those eyes, my Lord, the spirit there,

Might well a Raphaell's hand require,

To give them all the native fire;

The features, fraught with sense and wit,

You'll grant are very hard to hit;

But yet with patience you shall view,

As much as paint and art can do.'

Observe the work.  My Lord replied,

'Till now I thought my mouth was wide;

Besides, my nose is somewhat long;

Dear sir, for me 'tis far too young!'

'Oh! pardon me, (the artist cried)

In this we Painters must decide .

The piece ev'n common eyes must strike,

I warrant it extremely like.'

My Lord examin'd it a-new;

No looking-glass seem'd half so true.

A lady came, with borrow'd grace,

He from his Venus form'd her face.

Her lover prais'd the Painter's art;

So like the picture in his heart!

To every age some charm he lent;

Ev'n beauties were almost content.

Through all the town his art they prais'd;

His custom grew, his price was rais'd.

Had he the real likeness shown,

Would any man the picture own?

But when thus happily he wrought,

Each found the likeness in his thought.

But is it even possible for someone to commit suicide?

In one sense yes, and in another sense no.

In one sense, It is not only possible, but a tragic fact of history that many, many people have sought with all of their heart to kill themselves and by the means they deliberately used they died. (Matthew 27:5)

But at the same time no one has the power or authority to take from God what He alone holds, namely life.  God is Sovereign over all of life.

John 1:4 and 5:26 make it clear that the only One who has the power of being and life residing within is God. 

Furthermore, Psalm 139:16 tells us that God has every one of our days preordained, so that we will have no more or less days than God has "written" in eternity past.

So, while I agree that is normal to use common language to talk about an individual killing himself/herself, committing suicide, or taking his or her life, it is not to be understood as though they took their lives from God or apart from God's sovereign control or without God's perfect plan being carried out.

Just a few hours ago I listened to the Christian father of this 21 year old who committed suicide, and he said that while some people might want to get angry at God, he was praising Him.  He said that his son was a gift from God (Ps. 127), and that the LORD gives and the LORD takes away (cf. Job 2:10). 

It is not only Biblically and Theologically correct, but it is extremely comforting to this heart-broken father to recognize and depend upon the Sovereign Creator and Sustainer of all of Life (cf. John 1:1-4; Hebrews 1:2-3; Colossians 1:16-17; Acts 17:24-26).

Praise be to the God of Life!

Many have warned us that our economy was on a collision course.  Two of my dear friends, Dr. Robert Jensen and Dr. Jim Rigby have long been describing this unavoidable occurence, when no legislation Congress can forge will circumvent the inevitable.  In Jensen's book, Citizens of the Empire: The Struggle to Claim Our Humanity, he writes encouragingly of  Maintaining political, intellectual, and ethical hope in the heart of the world’s most powerful nation.  Now that this Empire, this illusion can no longer be sustained, we the people have the enormous gift of being able to come together on solid ground~~claiming our humanity.  We have the opportunities to once again create time for our families and our neighbors...to take turns lending a helping hand.  We can use our two hands, our minds, our hearts, our backs to shoulder the labors ahead of us together.  We can learn anew to live closer to the earth, use less, replace more...our time has come.  To paraphrase the recent words of Dr. Jim Rigby,

...let us open every pore to the present gift. [encouraging us to "taste the soup."]

Now, more than perhaps ever in our lifetimes, we can appreciate all of the genuine abundance that we truly live with.  We can savor the breath that gives us life.  We can cherish the life that surrounds and sustains us.  Without a doubt, we will have less in that we no longer can delude ourselves or the world; yet, undeniably, we will have more.  Each and every day will bring new riches that money and inflation cannot buy at any price.

I look forward to working with each and everyone of my neighbors, regardless of race, creed, or sexual orientation in life sustaining,  community building endeavors. 

I will consider it my highest priority to meet each day with joy in the privilege of being alive in this exciting time when the Empire crumbled and the people arose.

Our time has come; the perfect time for relocating~~for moving from the penthouses of our heads into the rich wilderness of our hearts.  This is the perfect time to live abundant lives of compassion, recognizing the worth of every creature, of every individual, of every nation.  Now is the time to "beat our swords in plowshares," to mine our vast resources of courage, strength and determination in order to live not the illusion, but a life worth tasting.

For more from this author, visit http://itsawonderfulife.wordpress.com and http://ashtoraspeaks.wordpress.com.

For more perspectives like this, write Dr. Jim Rigby at jrigby0000@aol.com, visit Carol Creel at www.lifeworks-marketing.com.  You can also email Ashtora, izee4mee@hotmail.com.

Well, I finally got them.  A few months ago I had an eye exam.  I got a prescription but delayed getting glasses until now.  I can get along fine without glasses.  But I figure, since I have a prescription, I'll try them out and see how it goes.  I tried them out for a little while this afternoon.  It was weird.  I've never worn glasses.    This is going to take some getting used to.

Hell NO!  That is bullshit and I, for one don't trust this president nor his policies or plans to fix the shitter that he got us into.  I think they should yank the funds out of those wall street CEO's accounts and put that back into the pot.  Maybe a little financial depression in their direction would help them understand what they have done to regular folk.

I just finished titling, describing and tagging roughly 80 photos in my Flickr account which cover one 2-day weekend (you know, your standard, everyday weekend) and two sporting events. One would think that all I do is attend baseball games, run races, tailgate, go to Redskins games, watch football on TV, dress my dog in football/baseball related gear, harass baseball players for autographs…in other words, one would think that my life is nothing but sports. This is not entirely true, although I'm beginning to realize how much of my summer has been spent chronicling my time at the ballpark and how much of my fall, at least on the weekends, is dedicated to attending, watching and preparing for football–fantasy or otherwise.
Which leads me to pose the question, when did I become sports chick extraordinaire? Is it that I'm finally at a place in my life, financially, where I can afford to attend all the sporting events my little heart desires? Is it that I find attending and watching sports a welcome release from the real world, thus avoiding talk of war, the economy, the environment? Is it that I truly do enjoy the company of men (particularly men in uniforms)…and attending said sporting events gets me that much closer to the action?

Tonight the husband and I will attend our final game this season at Nationals park and root for the home team that is rapidly approaching the century mark, and not in the way you would want them to. I've thoroughly enjoyed nearly every moment I've gotten to spend at that new ballpark this season in spite of the team's lackluster record. This is the year that I really started following baseball, the stats, the players, the standings…and actually caring how the team did. I don't know, maybe my interest in sports is a bit escapist…but is that really so wrong?

Anyway, if you live in Michigan and want to compare the property taxes in your area with those of other areas, here ya go.

It's one I've had since I was a young boy.  A problem I've always known about, yet have failed to fully explore.  There is really no one person or occurrence to which I can point the finger of blame.  No, this problem is a by-product of my life.

I was born to a couple who had very little in common.  She was 25, he was 50, and an age difference of 25 years were the least of the differences my parents had.  My mom wore her heart on her sleeve.  My dad was a man of little emotion, except for the times that alcohol took the proverbial wheel.  My mom wanted the best for me, as most any loving mother would.  My dad seemed as though he did not care about the future -- he lived for the here and now.  My mom taught me to cook, to clean, to care, and to always stand up for myself.  My dad taught me nothing of value -- at least not directly.

The relationships that I had with my parents were rather skewed.  Emotions that should have been shared were squelched instead.  Emotions that had no place being expressed to a child were exclaimed throughout the entire house.  With my dad, actions that should never take place were common place.

I just want to be loved...to be accepted.  I'm your son, you know.

Looking back, I see my dad, and I have no clear memory of him expressing fatherly love to me.  On occasion, the alcohol would take over and with his eyelids half shut, clouded by cigarette smoke, he would tell me he loved me.  Yet, my mind would go back to him holding a shotgun over my 5-year-old body as my mom held me tightly, screaming for help.  I would remember cleaning up both my dad and his vomit, only to be told that it never happened.  He would tell me he loved me, but I never saw it, never felt it ... as though his "love" for me never existed.  Even in 2004  (the last time I saw him) he told me I was still the same fat "kid" I was when I lived at home and expressed his severe doubt that I would ever make anything of myself.  He died a year later.

Now, as I see my third decade of life on the horizon, I look back over my life and realize that I'm still trying to gain that love, that acceptance.  I tried throughout elementary school.  I tried throughout middle/junior-high school.  I tried through my high school years.

I'm still trying.

The problem that I have is that I try, either directly or covertly, to "help" people like me, to "help" people accept me, or to "give" people some sort of reason to love me.  This is a flaw.  This is not how love works, not true love, at least.  This would not be such a big deal normally -- however, I've transposed it into a spiritual issue.  Yet, not in the way one might initially think.  I'm not trying to make God love me.  I know this to be futile.  God's love for anyone is based on His grace and His grace alone.

Finally!  I've found the love and acceptance I've longed for all these years!

Not quite.  You see, I fully believe that God loves me.  I fully believe that I am acceptable to Him.  I believe all of these things based on the truth of His word -- yet, I only believe them with my head.  My heart, my emotions, they refuse to let me fully embrace these truths.  It's almost as though my heart is saying to my Creator, "No.  You don't love me.  There's no way," and with that, I write-off the idea of God's love -- of my Father's love for me.

A few years ago, my wife and I were working on growing closer, communicating better, and understanding each other more than we did at that time.  Angela asked me, "Do you know, fully know, that I will love you no matter what?" I answered her with honesty, not with what I knew she wanted to hear...

No.  I don't know what it is to have that assurance.  I don't know how that feels.

Years and years of a deep, aching yearning to have acceptance and love with no conditions.  Yet, when I finally am given these things, I refuse to believe that they are real.  It's not my wife's fault.  She has expressed and lived-out unconditional love on countless occasions.  It's not my dad's fault, as it was not his role to love me unconditionally -- and if it was, he was a flawed human being who failed like so many others (including myself).

No, this is my problem.  It's one I hope to, one day, see solved.  My heart still needs a lot of work, and while my gut tells me that the Holy Spirit is continually tending to that -- my head, my flesh, screams obscene doubts and instills fear.

The truth is this, however: even if I live a full life and die an old age, my problem may never be solved.  Yet, even if it isn't, it is my lot.  God's nature does not change, He does not falter, and the love that flows from Him is true and firm.  No-matter-what.

There will also be a post from me sometime in the future on the controversial subject of conversion (just so that I can vent some spleen!)

But, this post is not about Orissa or Mangalore. It is about what Orissa, Mangalore and Madhya Pradesh did to me. I need to talk about this somewhere because deep inside there is still a part of me that is in a permanent state of shock.

I am not sure where it started. Perhaps it was that innocuous invitation to join a group called Bring Orissa Dignity and my investigation of how the online world was reporting the killings in Orissa.

Each morning, our group woke up to anywhere between 100 to 400 hate mails, most often with pornographic content. Each morning, our group admin responded to our alerts, deleted all the messages and left a blessing and a prayer for the people who had left those messages. (Incidentally, the between 2 am to 6 am timing also makes me believe that most of them come from fundamentalists overseas. )

While I am still not Christian in my beliefs, it’s true that these instances for the first time helped me to understand the power and strength of these words, “Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.”

But, even more disturbing, what I also experienced there and at all the forums that I visited was deep burning hate – the kind of hate that partitioned this country 60 years ago. And it was this that sent me tail spinning into this state of shock. How could anybody in this modern age hate with such intensity, completeness and complete ignorance?

A post that I saw on Rediff stands out in my mind, “If there was a war, and the Christians had to choose between Jeruslem and India, what would they choose?”

Jeruslem and India??????!!!!!!!!! Shouldn’t it be a ‘no contest’ for obvious historical and religious reasons?

It was interesting to see that the stance that most people took depended on the religion that they were born into. Situations did not exist in black and white. Instead, you were always aggressive or defensive, depending on your religion at birth – even if you did not believe in it :) And this includes me as well.

Also, no one cares until the witch hunt happens to them. Till then, it’s just else someone over reacting :)

I also experienced why the police in India has lost credibility. People that I knew at the Mangalore protests related horrendous stories… Police damaging their own vehicles before they attacked the protestors, women and children dragged out of the church and beaten till they were black and blue, young college students arrested (the unofficial number is 100) and taken away with no contact with their families. Even as the Bajrang Dal leaders claimed responsibility on national television for the event and walked away scot-free.

This is also how a community is radicalized. Nothing justifies it. But this is how it happens, and it is frightening,

So the next day, I found myself watching an alleged terrorist encounter in Delhi. I couldn’t help wondering if it was a staged encounter. After all, if they’d fudged stuff in Mangalore, they could do it in Delhi too.

How is that Zeeshan, a Marketing Manager at a small firm in Delhi, chose to surrender before the TV cameras last night, declaring his innocence? Yet, after a night in police interrogation, the police releases a statement announcing that he has admitted to being a terrorist.

Perhaps that is the way it has always been this way in this country. It was just that I had not experienced it before in a personal way. Till now, I only made academic statements based on the same premise.

But, like I said before… “No one cares in a real way... Till it happens to them.”

I also wish so much at times that I did not get involved in things so deeply. That I could be comfortable in my knowledge that it is still not yet my house being burned (this time it’s just people I know)… But, for some reason, these things disturb me…

At least in the fight for independence, one could appeal to the stated (not practiced) British sense of fair play and commitment to human rights. Here, you can appeal to nothing. In a fascist state, there is no stated morality.

Five years ago, I chose to return to India from the UK after I completed my Master’s because Bangalore and India were home.

But, if I am to be a guest in India, can’t I be a guest in any country in the world? At least a country with a better infrastructure and law enforcement system :)

Also my hometown, Bangalore of the 80s and the early 90s, remains only in the mind’s eye. So, what do I have to cling on to? What holds me back?

Nothing…except perhaps that Bangalore still remains my husband’s home.

So, I watch as we systematically kill the diversity in that great phrase “unity in diversity”. There is place now for only one religion and one culture. Nothing else is tolerated.

In this scenario, I don’t think that I feel very Indian… And I don’t think I ever will be.

PS. Just for the record, I don’t owe my allegiance to Jeruslem either ;) I belong to nowhere and everywhere. I’m just passing through.

And while doing that, I am still committed to touching every life that comes my way, and leaving the world around me a better place than I found it… That is my only truth.

So what did I learn to draw? Geometric shapes. As someone who has taught Geometry, this isn't much of a stretch. I've been teaching students how to draw geometric shapes for years. But the new thing in the drawing class was paying attention to the shadows and different aspects of shading. It was cool to try out the different pencils and charcoal. The class meets for three more weeks. It will be interesting to see the progression.

Tuesday is my day for belly dancing again. It's the same class I took last spring. But I think I can say that I didn't master the moves. And I think it's a good way to get some alternative exercise and use muscles that I normally don't.

Wednesday I'm back to yoga. I had my first yoga class this past Wednesday. One gal said to me, "I haven't come in from my day in two months." I believe I could say the same thing. I mainly do yoga for the stress relief and stretching it provides. I've been doing it for about 3 years. I try to do some at home, but for some reason, it's practically impossible to get similar results to a class. My instructor had been in Africa for 2 months. So we were all glad to have her back.

I guess that in between these regularly scheduled events, I'm fitting in my schoolwork and more fun. I'm sure that this coming week will provide me with some material to write about. It's Homecoming. ;-)

When I visited Mangalore for a wedding in the family a couple of months ago, one of the monuments that moved me with its haunting, ethereal, serene beauty was St Aloysius College. I remember thinking that the architectural style and scale was far superior to the monuments that I had seen in that great university town of Oxford.

It pains me that this 128 year old institution is under attack.

But, they say that a picture speaks more than a 1000 words. So, this one is for St Aloysius College, Mangalore.

And lest I seem alarmist, this one below was from Milagres Church, in the heart of town, and at the centre of the attack last Sunday. Not as striking as St Aloysius (it did not help that it was caught in the heat of the afternoon sun), but with a spiritual beauty of its own.

Finally, here is a glimpse from the wedding that took me to Mangalore in happier times. The next time I saw this church again was in a flash on television of hundreds of parishioners congregating to protect their churches.

I am not even Christian in my beliefs (though most fundamentalists wouldn't know the difference - laugh!), and yet I find that looking at these pictures moves me to tears. For me, it is about the associations with those monuments and another way of being Indian that are destroyed when these monuments are attacked.

So, what about Manoj's extended family and others who are Christian in their religious beliefs? How would these attacks that persist unchecked make them feel? I can't even begin to imagine it.