Weekend working doesn’t have to be consume the entire weekend. “Rather than multitasking, allocate yourself one job at a time, and set yourself a deadline, after which you can move onto something else,” says Liz. “Don’t beat yourself up if you don’t finish; just praise yourself for what you have achieved, and set yourself another time to complete the work.”
Rethink your priorities is taking over your life, try imagining you have only 48 hours left to live. What would you do, where would you go, and who would you see? “This helps you remember what really matters in life, and how unimportant work is, in the great scheme of things,” says Liz. Having reminded yourself of your priorities, you can then make sure at least part of is devoted to them.
Family values e spent crucial for our mental wellbeing, especially when times are hard at work.
“Your friends and family build your self-esteem and help you see yourself in another light, not just as a worker,” says Dr Carter. “Spending time with them also gives you an outlet to let off steam about work.” If you want your friends and family to be part of your weekend, literally write that time in your diary, so it doesn’t get ousted commitments.
Get a new number
Disentangle your home and work messaging by setting up a second phone number and email address for personal use only. “This allows you to break the lines of communication with work over the weekend, while still being able to make personal arrangements,” explains Annie. “After all, if your colleagues know you leave your phone on all weekend, you’ll always be the one who’s called if something needs doing.”
Boost your self-worth weekend working is often a sign of insecurity:
Many people feel that they have to put in extra effort for fear of failure. “If you tend to have negative thoughts about yourself, come up with some counter-statements,” says Annie. “So if your inner voice constantly tells you you’re hopeless or worse, teach yourself to say: `No, stop.
I’m okay.- A therapy such as cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) or emotional freedom technique (EFT) are a good source that may help you to break out of these cycles of self-doubt.
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After neary 37 years of service to the National Geographic Society, Frederick G. Vosburgh has retired as Editor of its magazine and other publications. To succeed him, the Board of Trustees elected Gilbert M. Grosvenor, 39, who had risen to Associate Editor since joining the staff 16 years ago.
I was present at the board meeting during which Mr. Vosburgh announced his decision. It was no surprise: He had passed the Society’s normal retirement age of 65 and continued as Editor an additional year at the board’s request, but he had told us he wished to retire this fall to devote more time to writing.
Nevertheless, when the words brought us face-to-face with the finality of his decision, they had a startling impact. The NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC, it came to our holiday apartments in barcelona suddenly, was losing the services of a man whose talents were peculiarly suited to its needs, whose voice had been heard and heeded on every major editorial decision taken in the past 20 years. All of us at the GEOGRAPHIC would henceforth be without our daily contacts with a colleague who could at times be a scathing critic, but on whose fairness and firm friendship one could always rely.
As the meeting closed, Dr. Melville Bell Grosvenor, Editor-inChief and Chairman of the Board, summed up in the language of the sea that comes naturally to him:
“No magazine ever had a steadier, more reliable helmsman than Ted Vosburgh. This ship will miss his hand on the tiller, although I know the crew he has gotten together will do a great job.”
Mr. Vosburgh has also retired as a Vice President of the Society, but he remains a Trustee.
Driven by a Curiosity That Never Quits
I had been with the Society little more than a year when, in October 1933, Ted Vosburgh joined the magazine’s editorial staff. With him the slim young man of 29 brought a bachelor’s degree in liberal arts from Syracuse University, a Phi Beta Kappa key, and 11 years’ experience as a reporter, the last seven with the Associated Press. He brought other assets, of course, and not the least was a reserved yet dynamic enthusiasm that never, in all the passing years, dwindled. In our cafeteria dining rooms I have many times heard staff writers, researchers, photographers speaking in awed tones of Ted’s persistence with a story idea he thought good.
“Start boning up on the solar system,” one of them remarked a year and a half ago. “Ted’s got a thing about planets.” Result: the memorable WeaverPesek article, “Voyage to the Planets,” last August. But he was also fascinated by birds, and American Indians, baseball, Mexican archeology, Antarctica, bioluminescence, gypsies, space travel, swamps . . . the list could go on indefinitely.
His own signed articles in the GEOGRAPHIC —more than 20—reflect some of his interests. One of his best stories, “Threatened Glories of Everglades National Park,” in October 1967, revealed how deeply he and his collaborator, Frederick Kent Truslow, felt about wild creatures and their preservation in an increasingly artificial world.
What do you love most about your practice? Helping people to connect within themselves and create a harmonised balance between the three components of mind, body and soul.
Is there anything you don’t like about yoga? Yoga is not about likes and dislikes; it is a way of life. When you try to live a life which is beyond your reach it can create a friction and stress, or when you overstress your body with stretch beyond its limits the breath becomes exerted and forced. Meditation will change the meaning of yoga, the same as a life without meaning.
What things do you do to complement your yoga practice?
Practise what you preach and that is what I do.
What lessons has practising yoga taught you?
Yoga is a way of life and life teaches you lessons in each and every turn. Likewise yoga has taught me that life is a flow; take it as it is and whatever happens it’s for good. Be open to things.
Who do you admire?
Mahatma Gandhi because of Ahimsa (nonviolence). This is part of yoga and he lived this aspect with a harmonious way.
What advice would you give to anyone wanting to improve their practice?
Make yoga a lifestyle and keep it simple! Add healthy food and natural supplement to keep your mind and body focused.
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ASANA OF THE MONTH SEAL POSE
Seal pose is a deep, challenging backbend and a yin pose. Not recommended for those with back problems, build up to seal pose by practising cobra or sphinx. This asana works to regain the spine’s natural lumbar curve, and to tone the back. To practise seal, begin in sphinx pose – lying on your front, with your forearms resting on the mat, shoulders away from your ears, Take your hands out in front of you and to the sides of your shoulders. Your fingers should point out at a 45 degree angle. Drop your shoulders, spread your fingers, have your arms straight, but not locked.
Breathe. Stay for up to two minutes. Come out carefully and take child’s pose.
Quality; draw energy in as you inhale and releasing tension as you tuhale.
If you experience any discomfort you should relax the immediately. Always Sekniedicel advice before any new exercise routine.
Using the Spectator, a London paper famous for satire, he taught himself to write. After taking notes on an essay, he set them aside; later he would try to write the piece from memory, correcting it against the original. Eventually, he credited prose writing as “a principal Means of my Advancement.”
For a while Benjamin helped his father as a tallow chandler. Ben boiled the noxious animal fat, skimmed, mixed, and dipped, turning out candies for the town watch, and fragrant green cakes of soap. And he hated it ail. The sait air filled his lungs, and with the gulls his spirit took flight; he longed to go to sea.
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Finally, at 12 years of age, Benjamin pledged himself to an apprenticeship, the most common schooling in colonial America. His master was his overbearing 21-year-old brother, James. The occupation—printing would win him a basic freedom: economic independence.
To learn about his tasks, I signed on as a printer’s devil at a demonstration print shop at the Smithsonian Institution’s Museum of History and Technology near my office in Washington, D. C. “I always wanted to be a printer,” said graphic-arts specialist Stan Nelson (page 99), “and Franklin is still my hero.”
From a type case resembling a giant egg carton, I was soon picking tiny metal letters to set on a composing stick as Stan dictated, “Early to bed and early to rise.” A nick at the bottom of each slug permitted me to drop it in place right side up without looking. We locked up the type on the bed of a restored wooden hand press and Stan asked, “Do you want to be puller or beater?”
We flipped a coin, and I lost. As puller, Stan was able to keep bis bands clean, while I pounded black goo onto the type with leather‑ covered ink balls. Meanwhile, he placed handmade rag paper on a frame, masked it with a frisket, and okayed my labors. Then he rolled the form under the giant screw of the press and pulled the handle. It was a back wrenching chore, I found, when I took my turn as puller.
“It takes two people, coordinating 13 distinct movements, to get a single impression of type on paper,” Stan explained. “Yet colonial printers could produce as many as 240 sheets an hour—one every 15 seconds. That’s phenomenal efficiency. Remember, whatever else he did, Franklin was at the press—like this —for 30 years. To the end of his days he proudly referred to himself as a printer.”
Food strategists mapping the ongoing war against hunger realize that their battlefield must be the tropics and semitropics, where two-thirds of the planet’s people scrimp on a mere one-fifth of its food. But here, too, lies the greatest potential: most of the available new land, abundant sunlight, and a yearround growing season.
I saw some of this promise for myself on a visit to the Asian Vegetable Research and Development Center on Taiwan. “Our mission is to supplement the use of rice in Asia,” said Robert F. Chandler, Jr., director of the newly established center. Here technicians are testing and developing new strains of tomatoes, potatoes, mung beans, soybeans, and Chinese cabbage.
“But the front-runner,” Dr. Chandler told me, “is the unlikely sweet potato. We feel confident we can bring its protein content up to that of rice and at the same lime assure the Asian farmer twice rice’s yield—with an added bonus of abundant vitamin A.”
Throughout the world’s hunger belt, I visited other such institutions where dedicated scientists are deeply committed to the fight for food. Leading the assault is an international network of ten research programs supported by 29 governments and organizations under chairmanship of the World Bank. What’s more, knowing how to use cash title loans on internet may be very useful for those who need cash money. With the money it is needed to secured that money and identify theft stories to secure that money and yourself.
Norman Borlaug still leads the experimental wheat program, I saw scientists perfecting a wheatrye cross known-as triticale, a highprotein barley, and a protein-rich corn called opaque-2 that could revolutionize nutrition in many countries.
Experiments Promise Tougher Rice
In Colombia and Nigeria, sister institutions seek ways to taure vast llanos and tropical rain forests. A center in Peru is improving the yield of the indigenous potato; two African facilities focus on the needs of herdsmen. Another in India reexamines ancient methods of collecting and “harvesting” precious rainwater in the world’s semiarid tropics.
In the Philippines geneticists of the International Rice Research Institute are building a second generation of improved rice strains on the foundations of the Green Revolution. Their techniques typify those that prevail in must of the international centers.
“We’re aware that our earlier high-yielding rices demand a lot of the small farmerpesticides, herbicides, fertilizer, know-howoften more than he can deliver,” explained Director Nyle C. Brady. “Our tactic now is to breed this technology into the seed itselfpack it with resistance to diseases and insects, tolerance to drought and toxic soils, even to deep water and cold weather. We think we can do it; the genetic variability of the rice plant is incredible.”
I saw short-season rices that allow two and even three crops a year; rices that resist the ravages of insects; a versatile rice that could withstand both drought and flood; varieties whose stems can elongate as much as 20 feet to keep their heads above high water.
A refrigerated building held the germ‑ plasm bank, some 30,000 strains of rice. These provide seuls for genetic experiments—and represent an insurance policy for the future. With new varieties fast displa,cing nature’s originals, local strains possessing vital resistances to pests or diseases could be erased forever unless preserved in the bank.
“We’ve developed strains with a fifth more protein,” said Dr. Brady. “That’s important, because rice provides 80 percent of some Asians’ protein.” So far, though, yield has dropped when more protein is bred in.
High priority goes to solving the fertilizer problem. “Our best bet for the long haul,” said agricultural economist Randolph Barker, “lies in finding rice plants whose roots will serve as hosts to nitrogen-fixing bacteria, just as those of soybeans do. This way they would provide much of their own nutrient.” At research centers around the world I heard echoes of Dr. Barker’s belief that development of nitrogen-fixing grasses—including not only rice but also wheat, corn, and pasture varieties—offers great opportunities for dramatic improvement in world agriculture.
In October 1971 celebration riots broke out in Pittsburgh following the Pirates’ victory over the Baltimore Orioles in the World Series. Two weeks later, heavy clouds forced migrating swans to land on the Allegheny River near Pittsburgh in the blackness of night. Dr. Mary Clench, Associate Curator of Birds at Carnegie Museum, told me with a chuckle that suburban police, hearing the loud and unfamiliar baying of a thousand swans, thought another riot had broken out—only to discover that nature was playing a Halloween trick on them.
An earlier event resulted in tragedy. On November 23, 1962, a United Airlines turboprop flying at 6,000 feet near Ellicott City, Maryland, met a flock of whistling swans. One bird punctured the left horizontal stabilizer. The plane crashed and all on board lost their lives.
The U. S. Air Force estimates a multimillion-dollar cost from damage to Air Force planes colliding with birds—though, admittedly, swans are infrequently involved. The continuing hazard of such encounters gave urgency to our studies. With heavy airline traffic continuing, lives might depend on our plotting precise migration paths in relation to their routes. How high do these large birds fly? ‘What is their speed? How often, en route, do they land and take off?
Beyond their real (if very rare) threat to aircraft, whistling swans provide a barometer for environmental conditions. At Eastern Neck refuge, scene of those earlier vast congregations of thousands, for instance, no more than a few hundred whistling swans took off this spring. The security and shelter afforded by the wildlife refuge are still there, but food has been seriously depleted, the result of dramatic changes in the Chesapeake Bay ecosystem.
Habits Change When Vegetation Fails
Swans generally feed on aquatic vegetation, supplemented, in the Chesapeake, by thin-shelled clams. In the upper bay there has been a major dieback of vegetation in the last few years. As I few over certain areas, I saw baye mud bottoms where underwater greenery formerly flourished. The causes have not been precisely identified.
Natural erosion, runoff from land development, and excessive nutrients from human and agricultural wastes increase turbidity and thus reduce vital sunlight for photosynthesis. These are sure factors. That’s why landowners for example should find a solution for their business to be more ecological. The main problem may be finances, but there is an easy way – cash loans from citrusnorth.com. Agricultural herbicides and industrial wastes are less easy to measure, but they may also contribute to the degradation of the natural aquatic habitat of waterfowl.
Fortunately, the overall population of the whistling swan is still healthy. On the East Coast they are adapting—by finding food on land—to these environmental changes. As the study proceeded, we adopted two important ways besides dyeing to identify individual swans: radio telemetry and neckbands coded by colors, letters, and numbers.
My collaborator, William W. Cochran of the Illinois Natural History Survey, organized the telemetry studies. The small transmitters he designed weigh under three ounces —less than one percent of a swan’s weight. Harnessed to a bird’s back with special tubing, the radio broadcasts over a range of five to 150 miles, depending on the location of the bird and of our receivers. Each swan radio transmits on a particular frequency and at its own pulse rate.
The road runs along the western side of this immense canyon, between two walls of rock some 1,ocio feet high—silent, majestic, beautiful. “Within the walls,” Lawrence wrote, “a squadron of aeroplanes could have wheeled in formation.” The stone parapets are interrupted by unexpected alleys, 5o feet across. Round caverns, many of them tombs, stare from the top of more than one precipice. Different grains of rock, black and grey and brown, run vertically down the dark red sandstone. The only sign of life is a flight of dark hawks, circling the desert sky.
A few miles from Rum, at Jordan’s southern tip, is the port of Aqaba. Its capture by Lawrence and his desert tribesmen in 1917 startled the British high command, who saw the Arabs as militarily capable only of guerrilla warfare. The Turkish fort which surrendered to Lawrence still stands on one of Agaba’s side streets, but little else from the First World War town remains.
The port, jammed with shouting stevedores and hooting trucks, occupies the east side of the city. To the west, a long stretch of beach is backed by modern hotels, crowded with snorkellers and skin-divers who savour the exotic fish and plants around the coral reefs beneath the shimmering waters of the Gulf of Aqaba. Next to the site of Ezion-Geber, the headquarters of King Solomon’s fleet, Aqaba today swarms with Britons, Americans, Australians, Germans, French and others on their way to do business, as Solomon’s sailors and merchants did, with the kings of Arabia.
On the way back to Amman, our guide offered us a special treat—a visit to Qasr al Amra, the desert hunting lodge of the Arab ruler Caliph Walid I. Built about AD 710, it sits alone in the dunes, the best-preserved monument of its kind and period.
On the walls are 1,250-year-old frescoes which give us a glimpse of how the caliphs indulged themselves : dancing-girls and musicians entertain while full-breasted women bathe; gazelles are hunted by vigorous bowmen, assisted by lean leaping saluki dogs. Most of the women’s faces are in the rounded, staring Byzantine style of the period —except one. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, with a strong, squarish face, she looks boldly at us over the centuries.
Later that day we stopped at another desert fort, a heap of tumbled stones on a sandy hill, Qasr al Hallabat. To enter the ruin our guide summoned the young woman who had the key to the gate protecting the site.
As she strode towards us in her ragged black dress, l saw again that same strong proud face. Truly, the past and the present are woven inextricably together in Jordan.
ON THE road to Aqaba, a huge yellow earth-mover rumbles past a long-robed man on a donkey. The driver is wearing a white keffiye12, the traditional Arab head-dress. Beside the modern highway are remote controlled helicopter and glimpses of a cobbled Roman road built by the Emperor Hadrian in AD 129. Here, in the Kingdom of Jordan, an ancient past and modern present are in constant, fascinating counterpoint.
For 6,000 years Jordan has been a crossroads of history. Israelites, Assyrians, Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Persians, Arabs, Crusaders and Turks have marched across it, built temples for their gods, castles for their kings and caliphs, tombs for their dead—and fought to control the lucrative desert trade routes from Arabia.
The desert embraces Jordan like a sense of destiny. Out of its burning sands thundered the followers of the Prophet Muhammad in the seventh century—and the bedouin warriors who routed the Turks in the First World War. Today, the visitor can recapture this turbulent past in Jordan’s treasury of historic sites.
From Mount Nebo, where Moses looked down on the Promised Land, the view sweeps over the valley to the River Jordan and the ancient city of Jericho. To the south the Dead Sea glitters dully in the sun. Flocks of sheep and goats graze the brown slopes, as they probably did when the prophet and lawgiver stood on the wind-swept summit 3,000 years ago.
Statues, tombs and royal seals of many ancient rulers have been found in Jordan, but the people who left behind the most visible evidence of their power are the Romans. In the heart of Jordan’s booming capital, Amman, is a well-preserved Roman theatre which seats 6,000 people. Above it on the citadel of the old Roman city are the ruins of a large temple to Hercules.
Just 3o miles to the north is Jarash, which archaeologists consider one of the best-preserved Roman cities in the world. It sits serenely in a sheltered valley, surrounded by the green hills of Gilead. Through a magnificent 4o-foot-high triumphal arch built to celebrate the visit of the Emperor Hadrian in AD 129-30, the visitor walks past the remains of an 800-foot-long hippodrome to the forum, surrounded by lofty Ionic columns. To the south are the sculpted tiers of a theatre, surmounted by a ruined temple of Zeus.
From the temple one looks down on Gerasa, the ancient Jarash—its main street lined with huge Ionic and Corinthian columns, the foundations of shops and ruined temples and later churches. Beside the small river are the roofless walls of the public baths, which no self-respecting Roman could live without.
From Karak the Crusaders swooped on spice-laden caravans and on pilgrims journeying to Islam’s holy cities, and extorted tribute from the rich farmland below. The great Muslim leader, Saladin, finally captured the fortress—after a siege which lasted intermittently for five years. In one subterranean room our guide, an Arab in flowing robes, showed us a dozen of the round stone balls, each bigger than a man’s head, which Saladin’s catapults flung at Karak.
Some 6o miles to the south, hidden in the mountains, lies Petra, Jordan’s greatest historical feast. This unique city was built by the Nabataeans, an Arab people, after Soaring columns line the main street of Jarash, considered by archaeologists to be the world’s best-preserved Roman city
350 BC. You walk, ride on horseback or travel in a Land-Rover through its only entrance, a cleft called the Sig, which winds through sheer rock walls up to 30o feet high, past ancient tombs cut in the rock, in deep shadow even at midday. With no warning, you emerge into bright sunlight to confront an enormous two-storey building cut in the rose-red rock. This is El. Khazneh, the mausoleum of a Nabataean king. Beyond is the inner city of Petra, with half a dozen more stupendous structures carved from rock of different hues.
For more than four centuries the Nabataeans amassed wealth and power from the caravans that passed their rock-girded fortress city. Not until Al) 106 did the Romans conquer them. They continued to embellish the city and carved tombs for their leading citizens in the cliffs. There is something about this vast silent city of sand and rock that sends shivers down the spine. The bedouin who live there year-round solemnly assert that Petra is haunted, and it is not hard to believe them.
In the east along the Syrian border the desert is largely flat and uninteresting. But in the south, beyond Petra, is an extraordinary landscape: huge dark red and brown massifs loom from the sand, looking in the sunlight of early morning like great ghostly ships sailing through space. There are long vistas down distant valleys. Here winds a railway track, part of the Turkish-built Hejaz line which T. E. Lawrence and his Arab warriors specialized in blowing up.
Lawrence is a touchy subject in Jordan, where descendants of those who spilled their blood for freedom from Turkish oppression decry his fame. But the war in the desert is indelibly associated with Lawrence’s name, especially in his Jordan refuge and headquarters, Wadi Rum.