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Patience is a virtue! Mindfulness can be a big help when it comes to supplementation! 🙌🏻 📸 x Read the blog:

Shree Mahesh Heritage's level 1 program is to come and to gain a deeper insight of meditation knowledge in form of , , methodology, and . the land of Rishikesh

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Now available : Removal of water hardness using zeolite synthesized from Ethiopian kaolin by hydrothermal method

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I made a drawing of my OC Akai as a practice, and I liked it a lot, I hope I can continue improving. ♥

Monday morning essentials - , and a fresh baked - let's get this week started with a bang. . How do you start your week of ? .

There’s just a certain serenity and mental peace that arises when practicing yoga, it’s unparalleled. 💪☮️☯️

Sleeping Beauty is not just a . It is the story of to the Secret of 💕Secrets inside you. Learn a key practice for awakening the beauty within 😉 💅 🌜 🎓

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Made of animal and human severed heads with mangled limbs and broken bones, the beast brust from the heart of the mountains. Stone and trees rain down on to the surrounding cities. Blue veins bulge, pulsed and twisted in and out of pale skin. With only one arm, a torso and a neck to connect its head the beast towered high into the sky. It looked towards the sun with hollowed eyes. When it lifted its head higher, a caged of broken ribs containing a beating blue heart was expose.

Birds scattered. The beast heaved it’s arm to the sun. Its hand made of knotted bones and tangled ligaments unraveled. Over two cities gazes locked onto the clumps of dead skin and flesh that fell. Stone turn to sand. Plants to ash. Animals and humans became dust. A scream rang out and in a stampeded the living fleed. Clouded eyes, broken bodies and red streams were covered by gray dust.

With a thousand voices, the beast cried out from its melted mouth. High pitched the cry was painful to the ears. It covered the cries of those who lost their love ones.

Blue veins stretched to keep yellow bones and grey muscles bound as the beast’s arm fell. People ran faster. Another painful cry broke from the beast. From it’s hollowed eyes clouds of steams rose higher into the sky. The beast forced its hand to gripped the land. Trees were uprooted with metal and concrete crushed in its palm. The beast sobbed. It continued to faced the sun as it tried to heaved itself up, but only manage to pull itself forward.

Buildings fell. Roads crumbled. More red was covered by gray dust. The stench of rotten eggs, feces, and bile weighted down the air. Gray and white clouds covered the sun. Dead flesh destroyed the ground. Sounds were silence by the beast cries. The world became colorless as dust and ash covered it in shades of white and black.

Gently the wind moved through the chaos. It build from a whispered to a howling storm. Dust and ash join orange petals right before the beast. There among the debris stood a young woman. Head held high. Her hair pulled back in a bun. A crown of marigolds was woven into her brown locks. In a gentle drizzle orange petals fell to around her and yet the flowers never diminished. She stood straight clad in royal violet. Eyes cast straight ahead. Her chin was parallel to the ground. Her top fell off her shoulders with short ruffled sleeves. Her arm stretch out wide open. Orange and blue feathers were embroider across her chest and continue downwards. Her circled skirt fluttered around to expose her bare feet which stood shoulder width apart. Her brown skin glowed vibrant against the white of the beast.

Her arms lowered. The wind settled down. From the petals that fell, a ring of fire formed around her. White specks floated in the air yet she was left untouched. The beast dropped its eyes onto her. The woman fixed her gaze onto it. Her eyes solid cold. The beast tilted then shook its head. The sun took back the best attention.

It went to lift its arm. A wail shook the beast broken body, as blue veins detached from bone and muscles. The beast fell forward. A broken sob accompanied the boom from the beast smacking the ground. Slowly it turn its head. Hollowed eyes once more fell onto the young woman. The beast hiccuped, but did not move.

The woman edge towards the beast. Her steps small but steady. Her gaze soften, for only a moment. The beast turn its heads once more to the sun and sobbed. Its flesh fell in clumps. Yellow bones twisted and mangled with blue veins that woved around them were exposed to the sun. More sand and ash sprang into the air.

Around the woman an orange storm of petals grew. A trail of fire was left behind her as she marched ever closer to the beast. Once more the wind howled around them in a storm. Light flashed. Thunder’s roars accompanied the wind’s howls. Gray clouds darken the noon sky into night.

The woman stopped only an arm’s length aways from the beast’s face. With a flick of her right hand, she send orange petals into the wind. Fire burst forth. Just a step from her wind caught fire. The beast was engulfed in bright orange flames. A broken wail rang out. Thunder roar. The wind howled. The best trashed. The earth shook.

“Angelita!” The called was heard miraculously over everything else.

The young woman looked behind her. A man no older than she staggered a few yards away from her. His brown hair and dark skin was splattered with white mud. Royal blue scrubs were ruin by tares and dark smears. His eyes filled with tears. With a shaking hand he reached out towards the young woman. “Please,” He mouthed. “Angelita.”

The young woman closed her eyes. She lowered her head by just a fraction. Her hands closed tightly into fists. She let go of a long breath. Open her eyes. Quickly she faced the man. With steady hands she pointed to him and crossed her arms over her chest. She pointed up, with one finger and with her palm face to her, she made a large circle. She smile as she stepped back into the flames.

Orange turn to violet.

The man rushed forward.

Thousand of lightning strikes touched the flames. Thunder broke through the air. Gales of wind fed the fire. Just as the man reached the storm the heavens broke. Sheets of rain douse the flames. The wind stopped. Lighting faded away. Thundered silenced.

Where yellow bone once was now stone took its place. Blue veins were now a tangled mess of green vines. The hollowed eyes of the beast now held clear pools of water. From its mouth, morning glories blooms into a lake of vibrant purple. There laid Angelita.

The man surged to her side. He dropped to all four. Angelita laid in her tattered dress. The marigolds wilted in her hair. Her eyes misted over. Hesitantly he took her into his arms. Gently he cradle her face with one hand. She barely breathed.

She was alive.

Angelita was alive.

‘Alive.’ The realization hit the man strong enough for his heart to skip a beat. One arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders the man raised Angelita. In a burst of flames he flew her up to the heaven. The sun broke through the clouds to shine straight above them. Where they were lost in a bright flare.

For years to come people will point to the sky. They will whispered of Angelita, the Angel Queen, who came from the sky to save them. They would say she died to protect the world from a demon, a devil, the beast. They would tell of Angelito, the Angel King, who loved Angelita and took her body back to the heaven, to their home. They made up tales of how each year the sun would shine brighter on the day the two angel return to their thrones. Every year people would gather, women dressed in purple and men in blue, they would scattered marigolds around the beast remains. Prayers of thank yous were sent.

Tucked away in a private hospital room the one people called Angelito ignored their prayers. Around him dozen of orange and blue feather wreath hanged on the walls. Right before him laid Angelita still and unaged. Her eyes closed and her breathing faint. Wires woved around her and hooked on to a few monitors. Her heartbeat was the only sound in the room.

Angelito held onto her hand. Every year he came from dawn and waited until the sun was high in the sky. For every year for only a few hours Angelita would wake. She would rise from her bed. She would hold him tight and scold him for not taking better care of himself. For a few hours the two would talk. For a few hours they would laugh. They would cry. At the end Angelita would cross her arms over her chest. Angelito would hold onto her. In one slow breath Angelita would sleep for another year.

Outside people would dance. They would celebrate their lives. Women would cross their arms and point to their lovers. Men would carried their love up and down festival never letting their feet touch the ground. Laughter mixed with music. Cheers filled the air. Plans were made to meet up for the next day. The world shook their saddest away until the sun set over the sea.

All while Angelito watch his world fall into darkness.


Submitted by @mblakemore98 #drumline #drums #practice #DrumlinesOfAmerica

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South County HS in Virginia, submission from @socoperc #drumline #drums #practice #southcountyhighschool #DrumlinesOfAmerica

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My second attempt at trying to paint and using acrylic paint. I always wanted to try painting but never really gave myself the permission to try it out. I convinced myself that I would try it one day so now that’s why I’m trying to learn how to paint :)


Passion Is When You:
1. You want to do that something first thing in the morning, right after you wake up🎸
2. You can do that something for hours without getting bored🎸
3. You want to get better at doing that something every day🎸
4. Even when you’re not doing that something, you browse the internet reading and learning about it🎸
5. When you’re out, you want to get back home to do that something🎸
6. You think every hour spent not doing that something, is an hour wasted🎸
7. Every time you do that something, you give it your all, even when nobody is paying you🎸
8. You put all your feelings and emotion into that something🎸
9. You do that something because somehow, it feels like right🎸
10. You know that something is what you are meant to be doing🎸
#music #lover #guitarist #practice #guitar #loveit #doit #winit #progression #selftaught #workinprogress #passion #strumalldayallnight #letitbe #thebeatles #breannmcgregor (at Los Angeles, California)

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#ink #inking #inkdrawing #artprocess #sketching #sketchbook #sketchy #artdaily #instaart #sketchdaily #artstudy #fashionillustration #practice #sketch #drawing #artist #dailyart #artpagedaily #illustration #instadraw #instasketch #instaart #instaartwork (à Paris, France)

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