It happens even today in West Africa, in the nation of Burkina Faso. Here there is a tribe called the Dagara and they believe every mother dreams her child into being.
For the Dagara, the life of a child doesn’t begin the day they are born. Nor does it begin just after conception. Instead a child is “born” the day it first becomes a thought in the mind of its mother. Once a woman feels it’s time for her to have a child, she walks off by herself and finds a tree. Under its shade, she sits and waits, until she hears the song of her child. Soon as she’s heard it, she returns to her village and finds the man who will be the father of the child. She teaches him the song. And while they make love, together, they sing their child’s song, inviting it into this world.
After the woman becomes pregnant, the mother teaches her child’s song to all the other women of the village. On the day her child pushes out of her womb, all the women gather together and sing the child’s song, welcoming it into this world. As it grows up, whenever the child gets hurt, any villager can comfort the child by singing their song to them since each member of the tribe knows everyone’s song. Later, when the child is older and has done something worthy of praise, the tribe will sing the child’s song to him or her. And when they’re ready to undergo the rites of puberty, the tribe will gather and sing the child’s song. When a child becomes an adult, and they get married, the bride and groom’s songs are sung together as a way of linking their lives. Finally, at the end of their life, as the child prepares to die, the tribe gathers and sings the child’s song to him or her, for the last time.
It is also customary for pregnant women to go through a hearing ritual. The purpose of this hearing ritual is to listen to the incoming baby; to find out who it is; why it’s coming at this time; what it’s purpose is; what it likes or dislikes; and what the living can do to prepare space for this person. The child’s name is then given based on that information. Four weeks after the birth the naming for a baby girl takes place, and three weeks after the birth, a baby boy is named. In the Dagara tradition, you own your name up until the age of five. After the age of five, your name owns you. Your name is an energy; your name has a life force. It creates an umbrella under which you live. That is why it is important to hear the child before they giving him or her the name, because the name must match the purpose.
Excerpt from: Welcoming Spirit Home: Ancient African Teachings to Celebrate Children and Community New World Library ~ by Sobonfu Some
It is a very interesting tradition that goes in line with some of the writings of the Romanian author Scarlat Demetrescu, who in his 1944 book “On the secrets of Life and Universe” describes that when a spirit decides to come to physical life, as it descends to the inferior planes into the material, an astral music accompanies it to give it hope and courage. Maybe the Dagar young women are listening to this astral music.
Tango is about independence and bonding, about one step after the other, about living the moment, about passion and creativity, about love and… no, not hate, just love.
Tango is free of rules. You can pick you next move yourself and be creative with the next one. Tango is about now, this moment. Is about here. It’s about partners connecting and living in the present. It’s about knowing when to get close and when to let go of each other.
It’s about trust, about looking in the eyes and understanding what’s going to be next. Speechless communication. How much no words can tell. It’s about feelings. It’s about expressing yourself and letting your partner express himself too, but each one adapting harmoniously with the other.
In tango the man must subtle lead his partner merely by intention. He is the one that sees the dance floor and thus has the responsibility on him. He has to put the light on the woman. To make her follow him freely. Than the woman will use her intuition and will feel his next move more accurately. As she is taken into the dance and cannot see, she must make use of the other senses. For a woman tango calls for patience, acceptance, feeling and synchronicity.
Isn’t this tango the way relationships should be? Or life?
On January 15 we celebrate in Romania our most famous poet: Mihai Eminescu. Born in 1850, Eminescu’s poems span a large range of themes, from nature and love to hate and social commentary. He is considered also the godfather of modern Romanian language.
His most famous work is the “Evening Star” (Luceafarul) – a 98 stanzas long poem (it holds the world record for the longest love poem) about the impossible love between immortal Evening Star and a beautiful mortal princess. The young princess was praying each night to the Evening star and thus the star falls in love with he and is willing to give up his immortality, but realizes that the pure love he has for the young girl cannot be sustained in the mortal world.
The poem can be simply described (for the today’s YouTube generation…) as a combination between “Gone with the Wind” (it is a romantic drama), “Star Trek” (it contains science fiction entertainment) and “Love Story” (the poem is one of the most romantic poems and it also ends in a drama) – all together, which means it is a romantic poem but also a third millennium modern poem.
Genius and foreseer, Mihai Eminescu is considered Europe’s last great romantic not in the least because he gave voice of such unmistakable music to the sadness of love.
Evening Star – 1883
There was, as in the fairy tales, As ne’er in the time’s raid, There was, of famous royal blood A most beautiful maid.
She was her parents’ only child, Bright like the sun at noon, Like the Virgin midst the saints And among stars the moon.
From the deep shadow of the vaults Her step now she directs Toward a window; at its nook Bright Evening-star expects.
She looks as in the distant seas He rises, darts his rays And leads the blackish, loaded ships On the wet, moving, ways.
To look at him every night Her soul her instincts spur; And as he looks at her for weeks He falls in love with her.
And as on her elbows she leans Her temple and her whim She feels in her heart and soul that She falls in love with him.
And ev’ry night his stormy flames More stormily renew When in the shadow of the castle She shows to his bright view.
And to her room with her slow steps He bears his steps and aims Weaving out of his sparkles cold A toil of shaking flames.
And when she throws upon her bed Her tired limbs and reposes, He glides his light along her hands And her sweet eyelash closes.
And from the mirror on her shape A beam has spread and burns, On her big eyes that beat though closed And on her face that turns.
Her smiles view him; the mirror shows Him trembling in the nook For he is plunging in her dream So that their souls may hook.
She speaks with him in sleep and sighs While her heart’s swelled veins drum: -“O sweet Lord of my fairy nights, Why comest thou not? Come!
Descend to me, mild Evening-star Thou canst glide on a beam, Enter my dwelling and my mind And over my life gleam!”
And he listens and trembles and Still more for her love craves And as quick as the lightning he Plunges into the waves.
The water in that very spot Moves rolling many rings And out of the unknown, dark, depth A superb young man springs.
As on a threshold o’er the sill His hasty steps he leads, Holds in his hand a staff with, at Its top, a crown of reeds!
A young Voivode he seems to be With soft and golden hair; A blue shroud binds in a knot on His naked shoulder fair.
The shade of his face is of wax And thou canst see throughout – A handsome dead man with live eyes That throw their sparkles out.
-“From my sphere hardly I come to Follow thy call and thee, The heaven is my father and My mother is the sea.
So that I could come to thy room And look at thee from near With my light reborn from waves my Fate toward thee I steer.
O come, my treasure wonderful And thy world leave aside; For I am Evening-star up from And thou wouldst be my bride.
In my palace of coral I’ll Take thee for evermore And the entire world of the sea Will kneel before thy door.”
-“O thou art beautiful as but In dreams an angel shows, The way though thou hast oped for me For me’s for ever close.
Thy port and mien and speech are strange Life thy gleams don’t impart, For I’m alive and thou art dead And thy eyes chill my heart.”
Days have past since: but Evening-star Comes up againd and stays Just as before, spreading o’er her His clear, translucent rays.
In sleep she would remember him And, as before, her whole Wish for the Master of the waves Is clinching now her soul.
-“Descend to me, mild Evening-star Thou canst glide on a beam, Enter my dwelling and my mind And over my life gleam!”
He hears: and from the dire despair Of such an woeful weird He dies, and the heavens revolve Where he has disappeared.
Soon in the air flames ruddy spread, The world in their grip hold; A superb form the spasms of the Chaotic valleys mold.
On his locks of black hair he bears His crown a fierce fire frames; He floats as he really comes Swimming in the sun’s flames.
His black shroud lets develop out His arms marbly and hale; He pensively and sadly brings His face awfully pale.
But his big wonderful eyes’ gleam, Chimerically deep, Shows two unsatiated spasms That but into dark peep.
-“From my sphere hardly I come to Follow thy voice, thy sight; The bright sun is my father and My mother is the night.
O come, my treasure wonderful And thy world leave aside For I am Evening-star from up And thou wouldst be my bride.
O come, and upon thy blond hair Crowns of stars I shall crowd, And more that all of them, up there, Thou wild look fair and proud.”
-“O thou art beautiful as but In dreams a demon shows, The way though hast oped for me For me’s for ever close.
The depths of my breast ache from the Desire of thy fierce love My heavy, big eyes also ache When into them thine shove”.
-“But how wouldst thou that I come down? Know this – for, do I lie? -: I am immortal, while thou art One of those that must die!”
-“I hate big words, nor do I know How to begin my plea; And although thy discourse is clear I don’t understand thee.
But if thou wantest my flamed love And that would not be sham, Come down on this temporal earth, Be mortal as I am!”
-“I’d lose my immortality For but one kiss of thine! Well, I will show thee how much too For thy fierce love I pine!
Yes, I shall be reborn from sin, Receive another creed: From that endlessness to which I Am tied, I shall be freed!”
And out he went, he went, went out, Loving a human fay, He plucked himself off from the sky, Went for many a day.
Meanwhile, the house-boy, Catalin, Sly, and who often jests When he’s filling with wine the cups Of the banqueting guests;
A page that carries step by step The trail of the Queen’s gown, A wandering bastard, but bold Like no one in the town;
His little cheek – a peony That under the sun stews; Watchful, just like a thief, he sneaks In Catalina’s views.
-“How beautiful she grew” – thinks he – “A flower just to pluck! Now, Catalin, but now it is Thy chance to try thy luck!”
And by the way, hurriedly, he Corners that human fay: -“What’s with thee, Catalin? Let me Alone and go thy way!”
-“No! I want thee to stay away From thoughts that have no fun. I want to see thee only laugh, Give me a kiss, just one!”
-“I don’t know what it is about And, believe me, retire! But for one Evening-star up from I’ve kept my strong desire!”
-“If thou dost not know I could show Thee all about love’s balm! Only, don’t give way to thy ire And listen and be calm.
So as the hunter throws the net That many birds would harm, When I’ll stretch my left arm to thee, Enlace me with thy arm.
Under my eyes keep thine and don’t Let them move on their wheels And if I lift thee by the waist Thou must lift on thy heels.
When I bend down my face, to hold Thine up must be thy strife; So, to each other we could throw Sweet, eager, looks for life.
And so that thou have about love A knowledge true and plain, When I stoop to kiss thee, thou must Kiss me too and again.”
With much bewilderment her mind The little boy’s word fills, And shyly and nicely now she Wills not, and now she wills.
And slowly she tells him:- “Since thy Childhood I’ve known thy wit, And as thou art and glib and small My temper thou wouldst fit.
But Evening-star sprung from the calm Of the oblivion, Though, gives horizon limitless To the sea lone and dun.
And secretly, I close my eyes For my eyelash tears dim When the waves of the sea go on Travelling toward him.
He shines with love unspeakable So that my pains he’d leach, But higher and higher soars, so That his hand I’d ne’er reach.
Sadly thrusts from the worlds which from My soul his cold ray bar… I shall love him for ever and For ever he’ll rove far.
Like the unmeasured steppes my days Are deaf and wild, therefore, But my nights spread a holy charm I understand no more!”
-“Thou art a child! Let’s go! Through new Lands our own fate let’s frame! Soon they shall have lost our trace and Forgot even our name!
We shall be both wise, glad and whole As my judgement infers And thou wouldst not long for thy kin Nor yearn for Evening-stars!”
Then Evening-star went out. His wings Grow, into heavens dash, And on his way millenniums Flee in less than a flash.
Below, a depth of stars; above, The heaven stars begem, – He seems an endless lightning that Is wandering through them.
And from the Chaos’ vales he sees How in an immense ring Round him, as in the World’s first day, Lights from their sources spring;
How, springing, they hem him like an Ocean that swimming nears… He flees carried by his desire Until he disappears.
For that region is boundless and Searching regards avoids And Time strive vainly there to come To life from the dark voids.
‘Tis nought. ‘Tis, though, thirst that sips him And which he cannot shun, ‘Tis depth unknown, comparable To blind oblivion.
-“From that dark, choking, endlessness Into which I am furled, Father, undo me, and for e’er Be praised in the whole world!
Ask anything for this new fate For with mine I am through: O hear my prayer, O my Lord, for Thou gives life and death too.
Take back my endlessness, the fires That my being devour And in return give me a chance To love but for an hour!
I’ve come from Chaos; I’d return To that my former nest… And as I have been brought to life From rest, I crave for rest!”
-“Hyperion, that comest from The depths with the world’s swarm, Do not ask signs and miracles That have no name nor form.
Thou wantest to count among men, Take their resemblance vain; But would now the whole mankind die Men will be born again.
But they are building on the wind Ideals void and blind; When human waves run into graves New waves spring from behind.
Fate’s persecutions, lucky stars, They only are to own; Here we know neither time nor space, Death we have never known.
From the eternal yesterday Drinks what to-day will drain And if a sun dies on the sky A sun quickens again.
Risen as for ever, death though Follows them like a thorn For all are born only to die And die to be reborn.
But thou remainest wheresoe’er Thou wouldst set down or flee. Thou art of the prime form and an Eternal prodigy.
Thou wilt now hear the wondrous voice At whose bewitched singing Mounts woody get skipping to skies Into sea Island sinking!
Perhaps thou wilt more: show in deeds Thy sense of justice, might, Out of the earth’s lumps make an empire And settle on its height!
I can give thee millions of vessels And hosts; thou, bear thy breath O’er all the lands, o’er all the oceans: I cannot give thee death.
For whom thou wantest then to die? Just go and see what’s worth All that is waiting there for thee On that wandering earth!”
His first dominion on the sky Hyperion restores And like in his first day, his light All o’er again he pours.
For it is evening and the night Her duty never waives. Now the moon rises quietly And shaking from the waves,
And upon the paths of the groves Her sparkles again drone… Under the row of linden-trees Two youths sit all alone.
-“O darling, let my blessed ear feel How thy heart’s pulses beat, Under the ray of thy eyes clear And unspeakably sweet.
With the charms of their cold light pierce My thought’s faery glades, Pour an eternal quietness On my passion’s dark shades.
And there, above, remain to stop Thy woe’s violet stream, For thou art my first source of love And also my last dream!”
Hyperion beholds how love Their eyes equally charms: Scarcely his arm touches her neck, She takes him in her arms.
The silvery blooms spread their smells And their soft cascade strokes The tops of the heads of both youths With long and golden locks.
And all bewitched by love, she lifts Her eyes toward the fires Of the witnessing Evening-star And trusts him her desires:
-“Descend to me, mild Evening-star Thou canst glide on a beam, Enter my forest and my mind And o’er my good luck gleam!”
As he did it once, into woods, On hills, his rays he urges, Guiding throughout so many wilds The gleaming, moving, surges.
But he falls not as he did once From his height into swells: -“What matters thee, clod of dust, if ‘Tis me or some one else?
You live in your sphere’s narrowness And luck rules over you – But in my steady world I feel Eternal, cold and true!”
By a series of jumps through different interviews and lectures I came upon this wonderful discussion between Duncan Campbell and the amazing Dr. Joseph Chilton Pearce. It is a paradigm shifting dialogue about culture, education, brain and heart. Take an hour and listen to it. It will be an hour that you gain.
“When a man succeeds to do something that required much effort, pride starts to work inside him. He who losses weight will look with contempt at others that are overweight, and he who quits smoking will twist his nose despised when other bathes, yet, in his vice. If one represses diligently his sexuality will have haughtiness in his eyes when he looks at the “sinner” which tries hard to get rid of the sin, but instinct takes over.
What we succeed can make us more dirty than the sin itself. What we gain, may hinder our emotional values in a way that may fill our souls with venom. The money that we attract can make us arrogant and miserly, and success can turn us upside down into the frightening abyss of passions. The path to love gets narrow when we look at others from the heights of flying eagles.
The tenderness of the heart will dry on the haulms of contempt, hate and bitterness, if our soul is not ready to receive its success with the modesty and the grace of a flower… Everything we succeed for ourselves and brings us energy is ment to return back to those who fight in suffering and in sin. Our eyes are not designed for contempt, but to express the ways of love which our soul tries so hard to tell. Our successes are not given to us to swell us with pride, but to turn them into love, in development and in dedication to those around us.
If you repress your hunger while you are fasting, the hunger will grow even stronger. Your mind will dream about tasty and chosen foods, your mind will sense the most appetizing smells, even while you sleep, and then, next morning crazy with frustration, to compensate the lack with a defiant contempt pointed directly to the one that is not fasting. Then fasting becomes occasion for pride, for vanity and for haughty victory over lust…But above all, pride remains pride, and the feeling of frustration only confirms it.
If you succeeded in life, don’t cling yourself on other’s failures, for not awakening the fierce worm of vanity in you and become passionately opinionated. success is love’s energy and your capacity of accepting life, but it doesn’t stand still, it’s not like a mountain or an ocean. Pride and vanity of success will bring you down, slowly, from your pedestal, for they are painting on your life’s skies events of their own.
Loose weight, enjoy and be silent! Quit smoking, enjoy and be silent!
Clean your house, enjoy the tidiness and leave your neighbour’s garbage where your neighbour put it. Because between your neighbour and its garbage there is a hidden relation, emotions you do not know, feelings that you will never guess and causes that will remain, probably forever, hidden from your mind and heart. Between the fat man and its fat there is a hidden relation. An understanding. A secret. A misunderstood feeling. An unused emotion. A rejected love. Fat is the teacher of the fat man. Vice is the teacher of the vicious. And in our life there are more severe teachers than our vices and inabilities…”
“Now I know, I know that every hate, every aversion, every bad thing remembered, every lack of mercy, every lack of understanding, willingness, sympathy, every behavior that is not gracious and gentle as a Mozart menuet… is a sin and a filth; not only murdering, hurting, hitting, robbing, swearing, banishing, but every vulgarity, disregard, every bad glance, every contempt, every bad mood is from the devil and ruins everything.