Vishuddha's Song: the science behind our OHMs

by Marylee Fairbanks

Imagine a room that teems with Grandfather clocks: some are narrow with intricate designs; others are wide and impose themselves. Each is unique by age and size; they range in color from tawny to ebony. Their pendulums swing like hypnotists’ watches.

An elderly man comes to his shop each morning and winds them, he works with a surgeon’s precision.

These timepieces move to their own rhythm, at first. Each pendulum oscillates freely from its pivot, but before long, they swing simultaneously.

 Luis Melo and Henrique Oliveira are mathematicians at the University of Lisbon physics department, and they discovered something called Synchronized Swing.

“We could verify that the energy transfer is through a sound pulse,” the pendulums communicate through vibration, adjust their rhythm, and then beat as one.

Read the rest at The Elephant Journal

Find Bliss Boston. Well Versed

by Marylee Fairbanks

So proud to be a part of Bliss Boston! Thanks for the feature on how I like to exhale!

Meet Marylee Fairbanks…

Marylee Fairbanks has been teaching yoga and leading workshops in and around the Greater Boston area for ten years. She focuses on the Chakra System and teaches workshops and as well as teacher training classes. The mind/body/spirit connection is the center of her classes.   Before teaching yoga, she worked as a professional singer and actor for 15 years.  “Work is what you do for others.  Art is what you do for yourself,” lyrics from one of Ms. Fairbank’s all-time favorite Broadway musicals, Sunday in the Park with George…  These two notions have collided rather seamlessly in her signature line of custom Chakra jewelry.  What began as a personal creative outlet or practice has of late evolved into ever widening circles, and her creations can now be found in area yoga studios and boutiques and also on her website.  Marylee lives north of the city with her husband and son… and their free-range chickens.  Visit Marylee’s website to keep up on her teaching schedule.  And, don’t miss Yoga in the Garden on April 30th featuring shopping, vendors, sound healing and sangha outdoors in a pastoral setting.

wind up…  your go to class or ritual that keeps you prepped for monday mornings?

I am a list maker.  I write a list of things I have scheduled and need to do, every evening before the day ends.  I can’t really sleep well if I don’t have a clear image of the day ahead.

Its nice to envision how smoothly it will all go as well!

other direction…  and, when you need to exhale?


Our Children Are Not Round Up Ready

by Marylee Fairbanks

There are three ways to look at nature: run in fear, seek to conquer, or live in harmony.

Humankind’s first gods grew out of the unpredictable forces of nature. These immortal deities were feared and revered. Cultures were centered around mythologies that allowed us to feel as if we comprehended the world.

We have come a long way from placing a sacrificial goat on a raised ceremonial altar at the volcano’s edge. But we are far from attaining harmony.

Today, there are many who think we can control nature with technological breakthroughs. They believe in global reach, western ideals, the rule of hierarchy, and the power of technology to solve all problems. They worship at the altar of innovation.



Butter, Salt, & a Side of Poison

by Marylee Fairbanks

We are eating genetically modified foods that are so far from food that some seeds are actually not even called seeds.  They are called pesticide. Here is a complete list of GMO foods to avoid.  They are linked to cancer, ruining the planet, and protected by the government.

Please share this list with everyone you know.  Take a stand against Monsanto, take your health into your own hands, and make a statement.  

GMO foods are not safe to eat and are not labeled in the markets.  

The Princess Of Garbage Day

by Marylee Fairbanks


I am cleaning out my basement. I clutch my box of Hefty Ultra-flex Garbage Bags, inhale the musty aroma and repeat the mantra – it’s good to let go.

I unearth achievements from old newspapers and unopened gifts that I kept out of guilt. I exhume the exalted size four jeans, with a hole in one knee. I stumble over my college textbooks; their bindings as pristine as the day I purchased them.

I come across a 1995 instruction manual for the telephone system, where I was an office temp in between acting jobs.  This reminds me, my agent hasn’t called in seven years. They dropped me the day I told them I was pregnant.

One of the things that surprised me about motherhood was the unanticipated disappearance of my old self.  I attribute it to many things; weight gain, lack of sleep and time to myself, giving up a career that I loved, but I felt deeply that I wanted to be home with my child and that required letting go of things that I identified with.

I sift through an old photo album and admire myself in costumes or at parties with other youthful, enthusiastic performers and I wonder what happened to “that girl”.  It is as if she was absorbed into the fabric of who I am now. And somewhere, in the process of that melding, I released much of her sarcasm, selfishness, and anger.  Though sometimes I miss that feisty, sharp tongued, do almost anything on a dare, girl.

Read more at The Elephant Journal

Give Up Hope

by Marylee Fairbanks

Give Up Hope

by Marylee Fairbanks | May 9th, 2012 | 5 Comments 


I don’t like being upside down and backwards. This makes Handstand a challenge for me. I don’t trust that my fellow students can hold me steady while I substitute my hands for feet. It’s a reflection of my own limited thinking, not an accurate assessment of their competence.

Still, I try. I go to class and work gradually. First, I achieved Headstand, which I couldn’t do a year ago. It’s a stepping-stone to the loftier goal of Handstand.

Yoga is always putting new challenges in our paths. Just when we think we have achieved a difficult asana, we discover that it was the modified version. It taught me to give up hope.

Hope vs. Faith

An old friend, Christianne, sent me an email. She wrote, “I accidentally gave up hope, but I got it back again.” Her mom, whom she calls Nana, was ill and Christianne was scared.

Read More at Gaiam Yoga

A New Flavor

by Marylee Fairbanks


I struggled with the key.

The lock was jammed again. I checked the keychain, but it was hard to see. The super still had not fixed the light on the stoop. I dropped my bag, sighed, and used two hands to jimmy the lock. Click.

I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was behind me. It was my first year in New York City and I was troubled by the thought that I would end up a tragic statistic. I positioned my bag over my shoulder and readied myself for the six-floor walk up.

My roommate would be home. She didn’t work on Tuesdays, so it was our movie night. We were single and gift-less and it was Valentines Day; or as we called it “Black Tuesday”.

I checked the door was shut behind me and discovered a black, cardboard, heart taped to my mailbox. I turned it over and read a single word, written in red, all caps.

Read more at The Elephant Journal

In The Midst of Gorillas: A transendental moment with the mountian gorillas of Rwanda.

by Marylee Fairbanks

“The king's name is Gukubita. It means ‘beat’. But don't worry, he beats his chest not his visitors." Our guide Eugene winks, adjusts the automatic rifle on his shoulder, and turns toward the jungle.

We walk up the base of the Sambinyo Volcano to track Gukubita and his family of mountain gorillas.

Rwanda’s volcano region is called the Virunga Mountains and is the place Dian Fossey founded the Karasoke Research Center in 1967 to study and protect the gorillas.

Karasoke protects one third of all mountain gorillas in the Virungas, and because of their efforts the critically endangered population has increased by almost seven hundred.

Eugene’s machete rings out a high Cschringgg, as it strikes the bamboo thicket. The lush, emerald-colored terrain is difficult to navigate. There are no trails, so we walk on top of the vegetation.

Read More at The Daedalus Experiment