prayer bell

One of my favorite things about overwatch as a whole is how much of their energy went into the character animation. Every single one of them has mannerisms that are all unique even down to their “Hello!” hand-waves. Seriously, there’s a difference between Soldier’s slow and minimal open-palmed wave and Ana’s salute, between Sombra’s curly-fingered long nailed wave and Reaper’s wave seeming more like he’s trying to grab something, between Bastion’s choppy finger-wave and the repair module waving in sentry mode and Genji’s short bow with a distinctive hand motion. It’s all completely unique to each character to express something about their personalities even with the same general motion.

This isn’t even the half of it. Compare EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER’S seated emote for example. Even if characters are in the same pose, like McCree and Bastion and Lucio? The way they ENTER those poses is completely different. McCree holsters his gun and sets his hand on the ground before seating. Bastion spreads their legs a bit, balances with their arms, and then PLOMPS onto the dirt unceremoniously. Lucio fuckin BREAKDANCES into his seat, how extra can you get, what a show-off, I love him.

And the guys who take a knee instead of sitting down??? Also completely different. Pharah does a little flourish with her weapon before kneeling. Soldier just sweeps into it, all no-nonsense and efficient. Ana sweeps her cloak behind her first and gently eases into the kneel. Reinhardt fuckin hefts his hammer murder-side down and kneels like a knight, gazing slightly upwards to some imaginary monarch he’s in the service of. Zarya clonks her whole gun on the ground and kneels beside it, and it really starts to make sense just how BIG and HEAVY that thing is when you see it beside her like that.

The meditators? Fuckin. Nothing is safe from the character quirks and differences. Genji makes some kind of hand pose on one foot and balances into meditation, keeping his hand near his face. Zenyatta hovers a little lower, bows his head, and his orbs spread out to chime like prayer bells. Hanzo sets his bow down and sits seiza, with his hands on his knees. On that note, Mei also sits seiza but doesn’t meditate, instead awkwardly looking around and glancing at snowball for confidence.

And the COMPLETELY unique poses are probably my favorites. Junkrat wants you to paint him like one of your French girls, fingers tapping on the ground and OOZING such misplaced confidence and insanity that I can’t NOT love him. D.Va reveals her stash of snack food and plays on her Future GameBoy for a while, completely uninterested in what else is going on. Symmetra’s too pompous and confident to sit on the ground, so she creates a seat for herself out of hard light to sit on instead.

Just. I fucking love this game.

Prayer

Prayer is not merely a chore or a daily requirement. It is not a key for one’s entrance to heaven, nor does it promise such a notion. It is key to recognize the habitual act of the salat as a mean to be Present and connected to the heavens and cosmos at a particular time. In a sense, the occurrence of the salat at such metaphysically critical hours is to assert and remind us of our connections to the macrocosm.

The five daily prayers in Islam occur at pivotal points of the day- before sunrise, noon, before sunset, sunset, and post-sunset. Traditional cosmology and astrology have noticed a certain cosmic opening during these hours. There is no doubt that this is the reason behind the prayers being fixed in such a pattern. In fact, if one even looks at the Hindu tradition , its prayers and meditation methods are designated at similar hours , with a particular emphasis on the practice of mantras and meditation before sunrise.

Ultimately, the salat is a cosmic invitation to the infinite abode during the sacred times of the day. It is best for one to initiate the prayers right around the time of the azaan, to ensure that the flowing grace and light reaches the soul. We can always makeup the prayers if missed or forgotten, but in a sense when one has missed out on this time of sacred opening, one has missed to be Present. Salat is not a checklist that has to be marked off, rather it is a practice for those who wish to feel the pull of the universe right here, right now, in its own sacred manner.

Thus, I ask you to open your hearts to the cosmic pull and engage in the sacral opening during the times of salat. Be conscious of your intertwinement to existence, from a single particle to the infinite stars, and learn to cherish the moment rather than view it as a requirement. Feel the vibration of the words throughout every limb, experience the endless capacity of the soul within the finite body, and soak yourself into the showering grace of that time.

Once again, I reiterate that the five daily prayers are ringing bells to remind us of our existence. We have five official opportunities on a daily basis to  be aware of this eternal consciousness, and if a prayer is missed, then there is an opportunity for the next. Do not allow these simple and abundant reminders to go to waste. The salat is not a system or a requirement for being a good Muslim, but transcends all of those parameters. It is a merciful call from our Creator over and over again. So be Present- feel the energy of the stars and heavens, tune in to the holy sound of the azaan, be united with your Lord here and now— that is really all that it is about, and God knows best.

Becoming

It is the same sky today
pale rain clouds
into endless afternoons
where I am staring out the window
listening to the talk of birds
echoing the call of church bells
evening prayers are lost
on a cool breeze from the sea
carrying particles of salt
but no news
of the weather to come
thunderstorms are building
behind my eyes
I am unplugging
my synapses
no one can see the lightning
in my irises
I am burning down
from the inside
one day
after another
I am becoming
a streak of light
across the darkened sky

Super Simple and Customizable Room-Cleansing Floor Salt

A little something to sprinkle over the floor to clean and freshen a room. Works for cleaning before a ritual or just as part of a cleaning routine to maintain healthy energies.

Ingredients

  • Salt
  • Lemon juice or zest
  • Cleansing herbs (I used basil)
  • additional herbs (rose for love, lavender for tranquiltiy, etc)

This can be made with salt and any mix of cleansing herbs. I used the recipe above for this photo, but other suggested herbs include mint, rosemary, sage, black pepper, and pine needles for cleansing.

I added lavender, as this was for a bedroom. I might also suggest chamomile, vanilla, and roses for a bedroom mix.

For a productivity room like an office, I suggest prosperity and inspiration herbs like cinnamon, ginger, jasmine, etc.

Procedure

Grind salt, herbs, and lemon together in mortar and pestle, working in a counterclockwise motion. Charge the mixture with the intent to cleanse the space however you see fit - chanting, singing, ringing bells, prayer, etc.

When everything is mixed, take the mixture in hand and toss it about on the floor, working counterclockwise again. Let sit for a while - you can leave the room if you wish, or stay and continue your prayers, chants, etc.

Personally, I like to put on high-energy music, and I sing and dance on top of it to charge it. 

Once the mixture has sat for a while, sweep or vacuum it up and discard. I like to light a white candle after doing any sort of cleansing to realign energies. Don’t forget to touch up any wards so that the negativity doesn’t come right back in!

  • what i used to know about alexander hamilton: founding father, on ten dollar bill
  • what i know now: bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot in the Caribbean by providence, impoverished, in squalor, grew up to be a hero and a scholar, ten-dollar founding father without a father, got a lot farther by working a lot harder, by being a lot smarter, by being a self-starter, there was a million things he hadn't done, left him with nothin’ but ruined pride, another immigrant comin’ up from the bottom, his enemies destroyed his rep, America forgot him, just like his country, young, scrappy, and hungry, not throwing away his shot, got a lot of brains but no polish, a diamond in the rough, a shiny piece of coal, only nineteen but his mind was older, sometimes he got over excited, imagined death so much it felt more like a memory, as a kid in the Caribbean he wished for a war, obnoxious, arrogant, loudmouth bother, seated at the right hand of the father, his skill with a quill was undeniable, didn't have a dollar to his name, all he had was his honor, a tolerance for pain, a couple of college credits and a top-notch brain, been livin’ without a family since he was a child he grew up buckwild, he had never been satisfied, penniless, he was flying by the seat of his pants, handsome, boy, did he know it, the tomcat, faced an endless uphill climb, didn't hesitate, exhibited no restraint, he kept winning anyways, he changed the game, played and he raised the stakes, the fact that he was alive was a miracle, he knew what to do in a trench, ingenuitive and fluent in French, no one had more resilience or had so much practical tactical brilliance, had to start a new nation, the man was non-stop, assumed he was the smartest in the room, that attitude may have been his doom, practiced the law, practic’ly perfected it, saw injustice in the world and he corrected it, proposed his own form of government, talked for six hours, always said what he believed, fought like it was going out of style, talked too much, abrasive, wrote the other fifty-one, wrote like tomorrow wouldn't arrive, like he needed it to survive, wrote every second he was alive, immigrant decorated war vet, fought the other founding fathers til he has to forfeit, united the colonies through more debt, treasury secretary, ambition was his folly, a polymath, a pain in the ass, a massive pain, didn't know how to say no, had unprecedented financial power, his pride would be the death of them all, knew nothing of loyalty, desperate to rise above his station, everything he did betrayed the ideals of the nation, quick-witted, keeping them all on their toes, the short-tempered, protean creator of the Coast Guard, founder of the New York Post, creole bastard, out of control, an immigrant embezzling the government funds, had reasons for shame, couldn't seem to die, wrote his way out of hell, louder than the crack in the bell, his prayers to God were met with indifference, wrote his own deliverance, had a torrid affair, never was gon' be president, ruined his own life, did what it took to survive, flew too close to the sun, obsessed with his legacy, paranoid in every paragraph how they perceived him, worked through the unimaginable, arrogant, immigrant, orphan, bastard, whoreson, wouldn't apologize for doing what's right, a soldier with a marksman’s ability, wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone would sing for him, didn't get enough credit for all the credit he gave, eliza told his story.
Lui ride, lei piange. Lui la illude, lei ci crede. Lui la ignora, lei lo ama. Lei si stanca, lui cambia. Lui torna, lei non c'è. Lui piange, lei ride. Lui ci crede, lei lo illude. Lui la ama, lei lo ignora.
—  The Prayer

there is 100% guarantee i will come to regret posting this later but we did advertise shoujo fics and fanart on this blog

so here have some childhood sourins (ノ^ヮ^)ノ*:・゚✧:


“Kisumi!” Rin yelled ecstatically, running towards the pink-haired boy who was standing at the school gates. Sosuke rolled his eyes and followed at a brisk walking pace.

It was a new school year and it hadn’t even been that long since they’d seen Kisumi! Give or take 2 weeks after Kisumi had gone on holiday with his parents. Before that Rin and Sosuke had hung out with Kisumi practically every day.

He’d never admit it if someone asked but sometimes Sosuke was slightly jealous of how much Rin liked Kisumi… but Sosuke was Rin’s first friend and his best friend, so he probably didn’t have anything to worry about… right?

“Kisumi! Kisumi!” Rin was giggling delightfully as he high fived the pink-haired boy who suddenly leaned in and gave Rin a smacking kiss on the cheek. Sosuke gaped.

Keep reading

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
— Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

— 

Anthem For Doomed Youth

By Wilfred Owen

For Memorial Day

Anthem for Doomed Youth - Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

  What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
–Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
   No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
   What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
   Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

The Thinker, William Orpen, ca. 1918

damnlazers  asked:

i get to talk about between bodies in my sound production class, anything cool happen during the recording process?

That was a pretty cool process…

From my perspective we hadn’t officially written anything for it, aside from coming up with transitional pieces between songs for live performance. Chris Z sent us a few recorded pieces before we were set to go to the studio, but nothing was ever really solidified beforehand…

Guitar was laid down first, because I couldn’t make it to the first two days of recording, and because we were essentially writing in studio. D. did a rough estimation of how many times through a part needed to be, and a rough tempo map of all the pieces.

We knew that the EP was going to have a particular flow so coming in with a concrete map of tempos and structures was pretty cool for me… I laid down drums the same day as learning the songs.

Next came more guitars + bass + keys, and then Dave and Chris’s vocals.

The incredible thing about recording with Chris Teti is that we all have a lot of time to mess with parts / tone… nothing is off limits. I remember going up to the studio with percussion gear from a college later on in the sessions… wind gongs, prayer bells, weird shakers, or anything else I could grab. We even set up a completely different kit for “the distance” recording.

So, this was a pretty exceptional recording process. The result was tight.

-steven


More of us should weigh in on this topic…

Softly

Speak to me of better things to come
So as to give me hope.
And paint a picture in my mind
Before my spirit’s broke.
Of ravens perched
In branches of the
Solemn, sleeping pines
As incense wafts high up to greet them
While ringing in the distance
A prayer bell starts to chime.
Use the paintbrush of your voice
And describe an ancient shine
Where prayers coalesce
With cracking walls
And their essence intertwine.

It is believed that deities remain manifest in mandirs in which bells (ghanta) are rung. In Hindu mandirs, bells are usually hung in the area or porch preceding the inner sanctum. Devotees ring them as an invocation to the deity to listen to their prãrthnã and be blessed. Young children love to jump up and ring the bell. Such samskãras of childhood remain during adulthood.
The bell is rung prior to ãrti to inform devotees to rush for ãrti’s darshan. During ãrti the bell’s auspicious  (maangalik) sound wards off evil. When rung with a tuned rhythm, the bell’s maangalik sound (naad) has the power to focus the wandering and hyperactive mind on the deity and sentiments of the ãrti’s lyrics. During artis, the bell’s sound has the effect of spiritually boosting a person in the morning and relieving the day’s mãyic stress in the evening. In India, bells can be heard ringing in the morning (shangãr) and evening (sandhyã) artis, in every city, town and village. This collectively, spiritually energises the immediate vicinity of a shrine. The ringing bell ineffably attracts people’s attention. If they happen to pass by a shrine during ãrti, regardless of whether the deity is their Ishtadeva or not, they devotionally offer a slight bow or place their right hand on their chest or offer pranãms. Such is the devotional reverence (bhãvnã), inherent in the hearts of Hindus.
Unique sound and symbolism of bells
There is an art and science of making bells to produce the requisite sounds. There are bells specially made to produce the long strains of the sound OM. The handle of a ghantadi signifies prãna – the vital force in the form of Hanumanji, Garud, Nandi or Chakra. During Garud sthãpanvidhi, the handle is offered pujan. A bell without a handle in one of these forms is forbidden in rituals, since it may augur misfortune. The body of the bell is said to represent the divinity of time (Ãgama-Kosha 1992 VI:99)

When Someone Doesnt Give You Respects (Gifts, Incense, Ritual Bloodletting, Praise Letters, Prayer Bells, Mind Caresses) On Internette

“OHH!!!!!!……….. Sag My Geat……………..”