Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Good Morning Izan!!!
I was super nervous before Izan put me live on Pilihan radio FM. It was pretty cold in the studio but I felt so warm with the blood rushing to my heart and head, I didn't even think the frost setting on my ears (Nah, just kidding). Izan was so accommodating and made me felt at ease. I felt butterflies in the tummy and felt I was going to choked half way through the session. But Izan's warmth and bubbly character made me forgot half of it and I remembered Peter's advice to treat the whole event as if I was talking to a friend in a coffee shop.
Well, Elaine (my cousin) was there. Thank goodness for that. She's been such a tremendous support for me. Anyhow, I am glad Izan helped me explained and clarify that yoga was a good exercise for both men and women of different ages, and it doesn't effect anyone's religion despite the rumours and myth about it. We also talked a lot about the yoga phenomena that's taking place in Brunei and other places in the world. Yes, Madonna and Gerri Halliwell did make a debut with it, but had amazing overall results from the practice.
We gave away 10 free yoga vouchers to the listeners and the response was amazing. AND Elaine and I thought it would be nice to give Izan one month of free yoga lessons. She looked pleased and surprised. So, hopefully she'll come over and try us out. There were lots of callers wanting the other 10 free aerobic vouchers, but sadly we had to end it at 9am.
All I can say is THANK YOU IZAN for such a great time at Pilihan FM and thank you all for tuning in.........
With big hugs to all of you
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
Orphans with love in their hearts
Here's a story I came across from UTNE. Very touching and glad there are people out there reaching out to those who needs it most.
The Most Beautiful Thing I’ve Seen in Kabul
story and photos by Aaron Huey, from Shambhala Sun
In the spring of last year I drove through Kabul, Afghanistan, past rows of mortar-scarred buildings, down the Darulaman Road, a former front line in the mujahedeen war, toward the Allahoddin Orphanage. Next to me in the car sat the reason for my journey: a young yoga teacher named Molly Howitt.
What Molly showed me that day was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in Afghanistan. From the top tier of a bunk bed, in one of the largest and most corrupt government orphanages in Kabul, I saw a scene through the viewfinder of my camera unlike any other in that war-torn country.
Below me was a floor covered with bodies. Not dead, or dying, or starving, but perfectly at peace, calm, and present. A dozen young boys between the ages of 8 and 12 were lying on their backs in shavasana, arms at their sides, palms facing upward. Some were smiling; others just lay still, their minds turned inward. Before that day, through that same viewfinder, I had seen a very different set of images.
I lived in Kabul for five months of 2007, photographing the opium and heroin trade, prisons, mercenaries, and massacres, among other subjects that involved terrible loss or suffering. In Molly’s yoga class, I saw compassion, and I saw hope—hope that is desperately needed in a country that is increasingly unstable and violent. Over the past few years the Taliban have reclaimed much of the south and east of the country, and their suicide bombings are increasing in both frequency and scope.
Most of the children in the Allahoddin Orphanage have lost a father or a mother to war or illness. The country has been in a continual state of conflict for 30 years. When children enter an orphanage in Afghanistan, they find themselves in a world that is cold and violent, neglectful and punishing—a world in which they are used as props to lure in foreign donations, then locked up again once the money is guaranteed.
Molly Howitt is a 28-year-old American who moved to Kabul two years ago from New Mexico. During her first weeks in the city, she was taken to the orphanage by the director of Physiotherapy and Rehabilitation Support for Afghanistan and offered a chance to teach yoga to the children there as part of the orphanage’s vulnerable children’s program. She was shocked by the conditions: The rooms reeked of unwashed, neglected bodies, and in the winter broken windows let in the bitter cold. The most basic necessities, beyond food and a bunk, were not met. There was very little human touch, Molly says, and hopelessness darkened the prisonlike environment.
Molly began practicing yoga twice a week with two groups of boys, using traditional techniques in playful, simple, and interactive ways. They practiced in their dormitories, where 24 bare bunk beds lined the walls of each identical room. The boys took immediately to yoga with bright, energetic smiles. They were always on time and jumping with enthusiasm before class.
At first they seemed to be responding to the activity, the fun, and the physical contact, but little by little Molly noticed changes in their ability to focus. At the end of each yoga class, the children were calm, centered, and content, and the changes migrated out of class, where other staff members noticed more positive, kind, and caring behavior in the boys throughout the day. Slowly, Molly says, they came to understand even the more subtle aspects of yoga: controlled movements, breathing, resting, and stillness.
When Molly debriefs the children at the end of each class, she usually asks them what kind of special place they went to during shavasana. Often they describe “flying” to their homes, seeing mothers or fathers or grandparents who had died. Sometimes they go to the zoo, or to a park that may or may not really exist. It’s the first step in teaching the children to take control of their thoughts and their happiness, Molly says. She finds that if children can give themselves enough space they can move away from painful thoughts to ones that give them strength. In a place so full of suffering, the comfort this simple routine provides is immeasurable.
Aaron Huey is a photographer whose work has appeared in such publications as National Geographic, the New Yorker, and Smithsonian; www.aaronhuey.com. Excerpted from Shambhala Sun(July 2008), the 2007 Utne Independent Press Award winner in the category of spiritual coverage; www.shambhalasun.com.
The Most Beautiful Thing I’ve Seen in Kabul
story and photos by Aaron Huey, from Shambhala Sun
In the spring of last year I drove through Kabul, Afghanistan, past rows of mortar-scarred buildings, down the Darulaman Road, a former front line in the mujahedeen war, toward the Allahoddin Orphanage. Next to me in the car sat the reason for my journey: a young yoga teacher named Molly Howitt.
What Molly showed me that day was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in Afghanistan. From the top tier of a bunk bed, in one of the largest and most corrupt government orphanages in Kabul, I saw a scene through the viewfinder of my camera unlike any other in that war-torn country.
Below me was a floor covered with bodies. Not dead, or dying, or starving, but perfectly at peace, calm, and present. A dozen young boys between the ages of 8 and 12 were lying on their backs in shavasana, arms at their sides, palms facing upward. Some were smiling; others just lay still, their minds turned inward. Before that day, through that same viewfinder, I had seen a very different set of images.
I lived in Kabul for five months of 2007, photographing the opium and heroin trade, prisons, mercenaries, and massacres, among other subjects that involved terrible loss or suffering. In Molly’s yoga class, I saw compassion, and I saw hope—hope that is desperately needed in a country that is increasingly unstable and violent. Over the past few years the Taliban have reclaimed much of the south and east of the country, and their suicide bombings are increasing in both frequency and scope.
Most of the children in the Allahoddin Orphanage have lost a father or a mother to war or illness. The country has been in a continual state of conflict for 30 years. When children enter an orphanage in Afghanistan, they find themselves in a world that is cold and violent, neglectful and punishing—a world in which they are used as props to lure in foreign donations, then locked up again once the money is guaranteed.
Molly Howitt is a 28-year-old American who moved to Kabul two years ago from New Mexico. During her first weeks in the city, she was taken to the orphanage by the director of Physiotherapy and Rehabilitation Support for Afghanistan and offered a chance to teach yoga to the children there as part of the orphanage’s vulnerable children’s program. She was shocked by the conditions: The rooms reeked of unwashed, neglected bodies, and in the winter broken windows let in the bitter cold. The most basic necessities, beyond food and a bunk, were not met. There was very little human touch, Molly says, and hopelessness darkened the prisonlike environment.
Molly began practicing yoga twice a week with two groups of boys, using traditional techniques in playful, simple, and interactive ways. They practiced in their dormitories, where 24 bare bunk beds lined the walls of each identical room. The boys took immediately to yoga with bright, energetic smiles. They were always on time and jumping with enthusiasm before class.
At first they seemed to be responding to the activity, the fun, and the physical contact, but little by little Molly noticed changes in their ability to focus. At the end of each yoga class, the children were calm, centered, and content, and the changes migrated out of class, where other staff members noticed more positive, kind, and caring behavior in the boys throughout the day. Slowly, Molly says, they came to understand even the more subtle aspects of yoga: controlled movements, breathing, resting, and stillness.
When Molly debriefs the children at the end of each class, she usually asks them what kind of special place they went to during shavasana. Often they describe “flying” to their homes, seeing mothers or fathers or grandparents who had died. Sometimes they go to the zoo, or to a park that may or may not really exist. It’s the first step in teaching the children to take control of their thoughts and their happiness, Molly says. She finds that if children can give themselves enough space they can move away from painful thoughts to ones that give them strength. In a place so full of suffering, the comfort this simple routine provides is immeasurable.
Aaron Huey is a photographer whose work has appeared in such publications as National Geographic, the New Yorker, and Smithsonian; www.aaronhuey.com. Excerpted from Shambhala Sun(July 2008), the 2007 Utne Independent Press Award winner in the category of spiritual coverage; www.shambhalasun.com.
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