A knee situation: not how I wanted to spend my summer vacation.
There are some unavoidable realities in our lives, the little and relatively short and inconsequential lives, of human beings. Of these, one that seems to consume so many – to the depths of mania – is aging. I joke, often, that my immaturity has been the best anti-aging strategy. This actually turns out to be less of a joke and a truly beneficial practice, and I find that I rarely “feel” or self-identify with my age. “Ain’t nothin’ but a number” or “X is the new X” aside, age just does not seem like something worth the headache of fighting. So, I attempt to be reasonable. I accept that I am no longer in my 20s (a totally over-rated decade anyhow) and basically look at my 30s as a well-lived decade (rather than the apex of one’s existence). I take my vitamins – lots of them. I try to not sleep with make-up on. I try to sleep. I try to pay attention to what I eat. I dye my hair (okay, it can’t all be acceptance, some things I fight). And I exercise.
Or, I did.
Some things I know I’m going to miss about Hong Kong
Cheap utilities including phone service – remember that year we all got our electricity subsidized? That was cool. [Seems fair anyhow since our little island provides HK with ALL its power.]
Everywhere you might want to travel seems to be 2.5 hours away by air.
Anna introducing me as “Amanda, my friend from Hong Kong”.
In-town Check-in/Airport Express/Cathay Pacific.
Tirumala Septentrionis Butterflies.
Getting your drink on in the street.
The Inland Revenue Department.
Public transportation.
The Rugby Sevens.
My yoga teacher.
My amigas.
My view.
Norman.
Heaven. Heaven is a place.
Oh heaven, heaven is a place, a place where nothing, nothing ever happens.
Heaven is a place, a place where nothing, nothing ever happens.
I love this song. Always have. And, though I hope I never tortured you by singing along to it, I definitely know all the words. Always have. Some parts of it have always made sense to me: “Everyone is trying to get to the bar. The name of the bar, the bar is called Heaven. The band in Heaven they play my favorite song. They play it one more time, they play it all night long.” I mean, yeah, I get what would be cool about that… English people would say it is the reason everyone’s got a ‘local’ by the time they are 16. Vegas people would say it is how you know you are arrived; you are in the bar that everyone else is trying to get in. Sensory pleasure is easy to identify and identify with. But then comes this next part: “Oh heaven, heaven is a place, a place where nothing, nothing ever happens. Heaven is a place, a place where nothing, nothing ever happens.”
And that noise you just heard? That would be all the Brits and Vegas people leaving the bar.
Nothing. Ever. Happens.
I am pretty sure that until recently I could not have understood that as a heavenly concept, even though, in more concrete terms, I have always known that it is true; we all know it it is true. When people are totally stressed, out what do they always say they want? To get away from “it all.” When kids are super upset, what do they naturally do? Go sit with themselves. When anyone, even animals, are scared or anxious, what do they do? They hide. We seek silence. When people are having attacks – panic, asthma, anger, rage, whatever… what do we tell them to do? “Take a deep breath.” “Close your eyes.” “Think of your ‘Happy Place’ where nothing ever happens” (unless of course you are Happy Gilmore…) We work to quiet our minds.
And why quiet the mind? The number one reason to quiet, or rather, slow the mind is that as our brains move faster and faster and faster we get, well… yeah: Wound Up. That is a metaphor that is actually quite literal. You can try it: You think of something that really bother(s/ed) you. You focus on it. You keep running it around and around and around in your brain. And it’s like every time that thought passes “Go” it gets more momentum and more energy behind it. If you are really trying to do this you will feel your pulse increase, possibly even your heart. It might not even be an event that triggers this, it could be a predicted conversation/interaction with someone (I’m famous for this) or something that didn’t happen that you wanted/wished/anticipated → Should have said, could have done, wanted the job, blew the interview, ‘knowing’ the boss is going to freak out, worrying if you turned off the gas… or if you left the baby on the bus…
Just slowing down the thoughts, literally not allowing them to “run” will lower stress levels. (I’m not making this up… it’s the brain-stem activated adrenals, what some people call our animal minds.) And so how do we slow down this mental Nascar extravaganza? Well, that is the question for the ages. Or sages. When people meditate (I hear, as I am still struggling with this <– understatement) they often adopt a mantra, a word, a sound, or an image to focus all of this energy on. And breathing. In yoga we call it pranayama; breathing techniques that are designed to change the pace of our brains. Breathing to and from different parts of the body and adjusting the speed or force of breath are actually ways that we can manifest stress reduction almost immediately. (Nadi shuddhi is a particularly effective technique.) Just keeping things simple, closing your eyes and giving attention to your breathing can slow down your mind? Stop the noise? The chatter? Even the screaming? I think so, just ask Clarice.
“I lived in an ashram for a month” – The conclusion of *this* yoga journey
The month of May went by very quickly. I am not sure how it happened to do that as I recall feeling, at various points, that the length of the days was such that I thought they might never end. [Waking up at 4:30 a.m. for thirty straight days can do something to a person though. I am not sure if it's a good thing, but it's something.] This ashram where I lived for the month of May was very traditional, which is amusing for a person like me, not so traditional it turns out. And it was not always easy to be there; there was a lot of communing (I am always surprised at the cultural differences in spatial and privacy needs), the basic necessities were beyond basic (I never did really get my laundry clean), the food was good (but I think I will take a break from curry for a while), the bed was… well, prison-like frankly. But all of that aside, looking back on it, I cannot believe how quickly the month passed. You know how sometimes at the completion of something you think, “Man that went fast!” But when you think back to when you began it seems like it was a lifetime ago? Well, this was different… it flew by and at then end it seemed like I had only just arrived. I don’t know if that is all that meaningful, but it gave me pause. In the same amount of time I was at Prashanti I had been in San Diego, Black Rock City, Sandpoint and Santa Fe last summer. That offers some interesting perspective.
I did not come to SVYASA with an agenda or expectations. Not because I am so evolved, I just had no idea what I was getting into. I knew that it was a course that would provide me with a certificate to “teach” yoga.. but I felt (and still do) fairly certain that I was not aiming for that, I really enjoy the role of the yoga student. I wanted to do yoga. And in hindsight, I was able to make that happen, though it was not the focus of the program. I probably did two-three hours of yoga a day for 30 days. That’ll keep you bendy. The majority of time was spent educating us on the holistic nature of yoga – its breadth and depth, and the spiritual underpinnings. I suppose it is my fate that I end up in the equivalent of a Jesus Camp for yoga what with my attitude towards religion in general. And I never really came around to loving the Maitri milan and bhajan sessions, but I definitely see the point now.
As a Westerner, I am up to speed on asana. I get it and I love the exercise part of it. I was not sent to Prashanti to learn asana – in fact, I would go so far in a very un-yogic way, to say that I was one of the more advanced practitioners in our group. It turns out I was there to learn about the part of yoga that is being lost in translation outside of India and that quite specifically is the spiritual side of it. Practicing asana without an understanding of the history and background of it is akin to learning an offense in basketball without any notion as to the rationale behind the screen and roll or moving away from the ball. It is an incomplete knowledge. My yoga teacher is a true master, and he is and was well aware of what I needed to learn long before I realized it.
There were people there who complained incessantly about how they were not “learning anything.” Okay, not “people” but a person – and that she had come to learn “Yoga.” By this I assume she meant asana, or she thought that someone was going to teach her how to organize and plan an entire class. This same person cannot “do” even simple asana. It seems to me, that if you come to a teacher training course to learn the asana, you are more than a few steps away from being able to teach. I likened it to showing up to teach a geography class with no prerequisite knowledge, but a shiny new atlas. No need to tell you that class would suck. So, those ready to teach it turns out are the ones who do not need the asana training, but need the foundational training and methodology. If you wanted to get that at SVYASA, you could certainly get it. This is not to say that I fully advocate for all of their strategies, but I definitely see how someone with enough knowledge would be able to take what they have on offer and definitely improve their ability to be a yoga teacher.
I am very glad to have done the course, and probably even more glad to be finished with it… I will admit without any shame that sitting in a beach side hotel catching sun and sleeping in until 6 a.m. is delightful. And I have not had curry yet. However, as I look back on my month in the ashram I am surprised at what I learned about people, yoga, India and myself. The Indian people I have met have been this amazing combination of what I might have considered over-zealously friendly, but really sincere kindness and curiosity and directness that really can only make a person smile. On finding out where I was headed after the course every person who lives within a one-hour radius of my planned destinations was adamant that I call, that I come to visit them and see their home and have a meal. Those that were not going to be around gave me numbers of cousins, aunties, sisters who I must call if I needed anything – anything at all.
With regard to yoga, I have a much deeper understanding of it and a greater appreciation that I know will enhance my practice, which if you are reading this Veer, I am continuing to do on my own… =) It turns out that the yoga that I have been practicing is quite high up on the cool factor scale. The astanga primary series in the Mysore-style gets its share of props from everyone. When I tell people my teacher is from Karnataka they all say, “Oh… Mysore-style!” To this end, I am looking quite seriously at attending an ashram in Mysore next summer, perhaps one as well one as KPJAYI. This experience would be much more rigorous on the yoga side, and a little less so on the “you have to wear a kurta” side. While this is likely a better fit for me in many ways, there is no way I could have known this nor appreciated it without this experience. As with most things in life, the scope of the reasons why I ended up at this place at this time will eventually be revealed (or I’ll piecemeal some things together in a flurry of false causal connections…) and until then, I will be glad that I did this… glad that it is done… and glad for the people who I met and the experiences that I had. To that end, a quick shout out to Christelle who was only there because her other plans fell through and whose company I thoroughly enjoyed; Nundhun/London (so glad you have two names for us people who are only brown on the inside) who constantly made me laugh – I am glad your parents made you go to Prashanti for the perspective you offered me, and that sweet green shirt (ps: don’t forget, I “probably only liked it there because I haven’t traveled much…”); Anand… you are your brother’s brother to be sure, talk more! And get ready for your own yogic path.
Now, the beach is calling and I’ve got a yoga class in an hour so I have to go…
~namaste~
Durga Rocks: A field trip
We took a little field trip from the ashram in our last week and headed out to the Durga Hills overlooking the border between Karntaka and Tamil Nadu. We were told to assemble at our regular time (5 a.m.) and to be ready to go, preferably in clothes that would not shock the villagers we would be traipsing by. [I have a small suspicion that Padmishiri Didi was speaking to me when she offered that directive. Of course, I was there at 5 a.m. with the two other Westerners. Yeah, 25 days in and I still think that when Indians say a time they mean that time. We got moving around 6. [There is me living and not really learning.]
Several people had been moaning about how far the ‘trek’ was. I was curious. Bearing in mind that I was born with an aversion to hiking ["Mo-o-o-o-m... this is not a walk! This is a hike!" was the line that peppered my youth. "No, Ames, really, this is only a walk..."], the word ‘trek’ did pique my interest. If this was a trek, I am ready for Everest.
I am not ready for Everest [though this kid... wow!]
Suffice it to say that the walk was both brief and flat and ended with some really fun granite on which to climb. I could not help feeling a little like the gang when they got out in Cuckoo’s Nest or Girl, Interrupted… I don’t know if I mentioned it in a previous post, but there is no leaving the ashram once you come in until your program is finished, you check in but… kidding. Anyhow, once set free, the silliness abounded. We were led astray initially by “Sound Baba” – our resident Rainman (srsly) but we all made it to the rocks and there was much giggling and goofing and goats, a little asana, many commands from Umesh ["See me Didi, SEE.ME."] There were some local kids there too, and eventually even breakfast was trucked out to us. [Take that, Base Camp.]The childlike nature of my ashram mates was not lost on me… Immature? I am not sure I would call it that, but there is something decidely different in the way that the locals interract with each other; girls keep to one side, boys to another, there is lots of squealing on one said and horseplay on the other; you can take a guess to which is which – though you would likely be wrong. It is fascinating to behold.
Part of a wedding celebration was taking place in the village which we peeped on the way back, reveling in the lovely morning. We were back by 10 a.m., that’s what a good early start nets you, and everything in Prashanti looked a little brighter. The experience was refreshing and entertaining and a beautiful way to start the day. To wit the complainer had this to say: “I’m a little pissed, I mean why weren’t we doing this, like. every week?” And I had to just look at her and think, “Damn. There really is just NO pleasing some people.”
Observations from Prashanti Kutiram after 23 Days
This was bound to be an experience I had no prior schema for interpreting. That is pretty much the only thing I knew before coming here. Where is here? For now, in physical terms it is an ashram/university 35 km outside of Bangalore in Karnataka, India. In more esoteric terms it is a place between actions. In yoga, they say that the silence that exists between actions is the place we aspire to inhabit. It is not exactly non-action, nor action. It is a place of wholeness and contemplation and observation. Am I there? I am not sure, nor am I sure it is a place I honestly aspire to occupy, but I think occasionally I am catching glimpses of that space.
It is quiet here. Sometimes. The Indians who are participating in my program are far less reserved (yogi-like?) than preconceived notions would have one believe. They are a positively raucous group given the opportunity. And that opportunity arises at any birthday, or other semi-recognizable event. I understand Bollywood a lot better now. [I still do not sing and dance - and everyone can continue to be grateful - but I certainly appreciate the vivacity.]
But it is a quiet lifestyle here. There is not supposed to be any television or radio, and participants in my program are not allowed to leave the ashram until the program is over – others here in longer term programs of study are allowed off campus on Fridays. Needless to say, there is television and radio if one wants it… most people have iPods and computers [my neighbors are fans of some genre of film that is very loud. Like BSG meets, well, Bollywood.] Still, I find myself falling into that weird headspace where I ask myself what I am doing with my time and then I remember that this experiment is about not having to fill every minute with things to do and that I am trying to just accept what is going on because I do not have anything else I need to be doing at this moment and I should enjoy that.
It is rustic here. That is real. I am not sure I have mastered the laundry situation, but I keep trying if for no other reason than to minimize the, err, fragrance. I have to wash everything by hand. I shower with buckets. There is warm water occasionally, but the cold water can really get you going at 4:15 a.m. I wash my hair only when I absolutely have to because it is such a ginormous pain in the ass, and it is pulled back all the time anyhow. I am (re?)learning to eat effectively (and sort of gracefully) with my fingers. Using only one hand. While I sit in ardha padmasana or if I am feeling super-fly, padmasana. It is totally communal, not super hygienic, and truth? Kinda fun.
My back started to ache last week and so Soniya and Sunil took me to the acupressurist. This guy is one of the most interesting people I have ever met. I told him my hip flexor and piriformis muscle were ‘paining.’ He examined me and found some pressure points (ouch) onto which he affixed magnets. Then he told me I also had a low back issue (how did he know from looking at my left hand and my right foot?) He told me to press the magnets to the point of pain whenever I thought of it, or felt pain. The shit works.
I am drinking so much water I cannot believe it and have still not had coffee, though I could have it if I wanted. I assume I do not need to mention I have not had any meat (or eggs or dairy for that matter) or beer since I arrived. I have learned the art of truly ‘flushing’ the system… Those 1980s girls would have nothing on me now if I wanted to show them how to vamana.
I took my asana (teaching) exam today. It was pretty easy. I guess 15 years of teaching gives one some skills to fall back on. A lot of the people in my group were palpably nervous, and I couldn’t really work it out. (Though, if I had to teach in Hindi I might have a different attitude.) I think it goes beyond language and there is a real cultural attitude towards anything labeled “examination” in Asia that I just never really got a hold of. For better or for worse, I suppose. We have the written exams tomorrow and the next day. That should be interesting.
As I could have predicted, I am finally pretty adjusted to the schedule: right as I am getting ready to leave. Up and out by 4:30 a.m. and going sort of non-stop until 8 or 9. Not all yoga and not all things I want to be doing, but that is not the point. I am getting in plenty of yoga and appreciating the subtleties of some of the asanas that I would never have gotten with out this degree of repetition. I do advanced asana with a small group in the afternoons and I can hang out in vrschikasana now. As soon as I am able to load photos I will prove it. Real. Talk. I still like asana the best, but I have a better understanding of why… and that was my point in coming here.
In one week I will fly (NOT on Air India) to Trivandrum in Kerala and there will begin a new phase of this trip. Until then, in the ashram I remain. I think this is probably exactly what is meant by the space between actions.
~namaste~
And the journey continues, Chapter 4: Life Essence = Prana or Bodily Fluids? You make the call.
General Jack D. Ripper: Nineteen hundred and forty-six. Nineteen forty-six, Mandrake. How does that coincide with your post-war Commie conspiracy, huh? It’s incredibly obvious, isn’t it? A foreign substance is introduced into our precious bodily fluids without the knowledge of the individual. Certainly without any choice. That’s the way your hard-core Commie works.
Group Capt. Lionel Mandrake: Uh, Jack, Jack, listen, tell me, tell me, Jack. When did you first… become… well, develop this theory?
General Jack D. Ripper: Well, I, uh… I… I… first became aware of it, Mandrake, during the physical act of love.
Group Capt. Lionel Mandrake: Hmm.
General Jack D. Ripper: Yes, a uh, a profound sense of fatigue… a feeling of emptiness followed. Luckily I… I was able to interpret these feelings correctly. Loss of essence.
Group Capt. Lionel Mandrake: Hmm.
General Jack D. Ripper: I can assure you it has not recurred, Mandrake. Women uh… women sense my power and they seek the life essence. I, uh… I do not avoid women, Mandrake.
Group Capt. Lionel Mandrake: No.
General Jack D. Ripper: But I… I do deny them my essence.
I am not sure if I made this clear originally when I spoke to people about coming to this ashram, but I am actually completing a course here. Ostensibly this is to facilitate the teaching of yoga, though I remain completely unconvinced that I want to do that. It is nice to have something in my life that I don’t have the responsibility of teaching, though with the horror stories I hear of the job situation at home, I suppose there is no way I can be too prepared.
To that, or those ends, I am spending quite a bit of time learning about the theory and background of yoga. I must admit, I wish I was doing a little more yoga, but then again, in looking at it, I am managing about 4-5 hours a day, of which about two hours are pretty intense. The other more subtle elements are probably good for me and my wound-up self anyhow. We are learning about asanas but also pranayama, meditation, kriyas and a whole lot about the particular spiritual bent of this ashram (Vedanta-sutras and Swami Vivekenanda.) I am interested in this stuff because one of the things I noticed about yoga when I started doing it was that it made me feel different… better really, than any other sport or exercise I had participated in over the years. And I wanted to know why.
Well, one of the big theories is the movement and management of “prana.” Prana is defined as our Life Force. And right here I lose it. I can only visualize General Jack D. Ripper discussing his precious bodily fluids and his essence. Every time. [This does mean that I am not managing to control my mind to the degree that a more advanced yogi does, because I should be able to block that extraneous information out... but I swear to Krishna, every time one of our teachers starts talking about the flow of our prana, and the importance of it, I feel like Lt. Mandrake. At least I do not laugh out loud.]
Still, the lessons are valuable and the fact is that when we manage our minds which is most tangibly done by managing our breath, things seems calmer, better, more manageable. So that is a total win, right?
The Complainer is still rocking her issues daily, and these complaints are manifesting in very interesting ways. Like she is having all sorts of problems. I wonder if maybe she might want to look at some of the lessons we are learning about managing our minds. But I am not here to teach, so I will let her work that out on her own. I feel like I am getting something pretty worthwhile out of this and even if it is not what I expected, or at times what I want – 4:30 a.m. wake up everyday??? – I think it is worth it, and a nice intro into India in an easy and user-friendly way.
We had a crazy storm here the other night; thunder like I have never heard anywhere… not just on us but enveloping us. And a torrential downpour. We lost power for about a day and things got pretty messy. But in the end, it was just another day at the ashram. Hardly anything to get worked up about. The food is good, but I am tired of carbohydrates. [A sentence I never thought I would say - ever.] And everyone seems completely fascinated by my age. Like, everyone asks me how old I am all the time. I cannot tell if this is a compliment or an insult, or in the more yogic perspective, just a question. Either way, they all seem shocked by the truth. New high? New low? I dunno.
Another funny thing that has happened is that I have been required to do assignments in a truly Asian fashion. By this I mean, the report cover matters more than the report. For real, yo. It is totally about style. And DO NOT THINK OUTSIDE THE BOX. This has been a real experience for me… But is a strange way, rather meditative as I meticulously copy the exact text they wish to see within the carefully drawn on page borders. Perhaps that is just another part of the lesson. I remain convinced that the more empirical, individual, trail and error method is superior… but that is probably just my inner-Western Imperialist shouting out. Time to go calm down that part of my monkey brain.
Namaste.
My Yoga Journey, Chapter 3: One Week in the Ashram
I arrived at the ashram that would be my home for the month of May, at 6:00 a.m. on May 2. I was an hour late to start the day. Seriously. If we are being really specific I was a day and an hour late, but I thought that had been worked out. “Thought.” I am still deep in the learning stages of coming to understand Indian organization and systematic approaches to things. And while at times those phrases appear to be oxymorons in the extreme, I believe I just have to learn how it goes over here and then I will see the logic. One thing is for sure, this country is way heavy on the bureaucracy. Way.
Anyhow, I am here for the full experience and I am getting it, that is for sure. I have no time to blog, and no real access to computers anyhow, (I have some time this morning as we are be given a little break following our initiation into the cleansing techniques of the yoga kriyas… more on that presently.) Our days begin with yoga and pranayama at 5 a.m. At 7:15 we participate in the Maitri milan, which is something like church in the closest approximation. Or maybe I am just saying that because my attitude is similar to when I was little and went to church with my grandparents, just biding my time to get to go to IHOP. Either way, after some chanting and prayers and sermonizing, we go to breakfast.
Meals are interesting, the food is good, but really carb heavy: rice, chapatis, aloo gobi, dahl, you see what I mean. I am pretty much always full. You enter the canteen and wash your plate, then take a seat in rows on the floor where you are served (and at lunch I do the serving). I negotiated for a spoon after day one as I seem to lost the art of eating with my fingers. I have not sat in a chair save for right this minute as I type since I arrived here.
After breakfast we do karma yoga, which is task oriented, character building stuff. It is hot and while not back-breaking work in the literal sense, we are wearing fairly inconvenient attire. Yeah, we wear very cumbersome, err… modest attire. All of my contemplating over how many yoga pants and tops to bring was pretty silly. Cannot wear them here. I wear something like this. Only it is a little more rustic and I would say that we are not looking so sultry as that model. Sweaty, yes. Sultry, no. So, I am basically doing yoga in a dress. I am trying to be okay with that. Trying. Like I said, it’s only been a week.
After karma yoga we have 45 minutes to clean up and then we head to a lecture for an hour, then yoga for an hour and a half, then lunch. Then lecture and workshops for two hours, followed by an extremely cool yoga practice with the unfortunate name of SMET. It is an acronym for self management of excessive tension. It is very, very welcome after nine hours of activity. Then we have an hour, which I am now using to take a yoga class. Then a lecture from 6-7 followed by Bhajan, which is singing. You all know about me and singing? No? Well, there’s a reason for that. In the West we might call it “torture.” Anyhow, it is a lot of Sanskrit and as of yet I am unclear on most of the meanings. At 7:30 we eat again. Then at 8 we have another lecture or more recently training in kriyas. Then at 9:00 or 9:30 we are set free. To pass out and do it all again.
It is intense. I have been incorporating more and more yoga into my day to balance out all of the theory, which amounts to a lot of spiritual training. Though not totally resistant to that element of yoga, I am finding it a little overwhelming. We are now doing kriyas several times a week and these are yogic cleansing methods. Suffice it to say they are nothing so tame as showering or fasting. You can google jala neti, sutra neti and dhauti vamana if you are interested. That is my Tuesday and Thursday morning regime following the 5:00 yoga session. It is intense, did I mention that already? We have added trataka in the evenings too, this is pretty interesting and likely the most difficult thing I have done here so far.
The group is nearly all Indian – there are five or six Westerners and it has been really interesting getting to meet all the people, most of all the younger brother of my yoga teacher in Hong Kong, who like my teacher is one of the most endearing humans I’ve yet encountered. One of the Westerners complains all the time about everything and how she is never learning anything, which is interesting. She says she was a teacher, but I cannot see it. How can one teach if one cannot learn? I guess that is her trip to be on, I just sit far away from her as much as possible. I am learning tons about the history of yoga which is what I wanted to do and lots about the theory too. I am glad to be here, which is NOT to say it was not some sort of serious adjustment.
I miss fresh vegetables and coffee, though I was impressed that I did not have a headache going off it cold turkey. I also miss having a shower that does not involve buckets of cold water and a washing machine that does not entail a concrete slab for hand scrubbing. Did I mention that is how we keep clean around here? It s authentic, yo.
Now I have to go… more soon – or probably not that soon. I have no idea when I will get photos up. But keep checking.
My Yoga Journey, Chapter 2: Departure
I wanna thank you... for a real good time... xoxo
I have a funny way of doing things. Like, in preparation for a six-week sojourn to a completely unknown place, I work up until the day before I leave, don’t pack until the day I do leave and then I sort of realize the reality that has settled on me as I am on my way onto the plane.
This may not be the most efficient method.
But then, in spite of my best efforts, I remain imperfect.
I celebrated my emancipation from employment last night with an eclectic and wonderful group of friends. I made a lot of <> exclamations and generally revelled in the surprising turn of events the past year had brought to me. I woke up this morning early. And then when back to bed. I had erratic and interesting dreams of which I remember very little and woke up to look around my house with the knowledge that it would not be my house for a whole lot longer. I made some lists – always a good thing to do when feeling overwhelmed to paralysis. I thought for a moment about how I was really being kind of silly about taking this whole thing so lightly.
But then I had another thought; over thinking this trip would be silly, in fact, as I have little to no idea of what to expect I think that to over think it would likely just cause panic. My relatively irreverent attitude towards things has not been ridiculous, it has been a matter of self-preservation.
I got up and went out to get some last-minute things that I needed and do a couple of errands. I finally got a hold of my parents who are in Bend, Oregon on their way home and that was calming. I ate some really hot tom yum and then on the ferry back, ran into one of the most lovely humans I know on Lamma. Actually, I thought he had moved back to NYC, but it turns out he has moved into my village. I smiled as I thought, ‘Isn’t that always the way.’ And I said goodbye.
I still have not packed. I have contemplated packing. I am hanging out with my cats and trying to get the things together that I need to get together like money and documents and such. I will leave my house in three and a half hours. My flight will leave a few hours after that.
And then the departure becomes an arrival.
My Yoga Journey, Chapter 1: Preparation
The above comes from my horoscope for April 20, 2010: “Casting off Boredom.” (Insert 4/20 joke here wrt boredom…) I have often said that I once mistook boredom for contentment. I am not sure I am any longer in danger of boredom. Contentment? Well, we shall see, I am thinking anymore that has much more to do with state of mind than state of play. This horoscope was interesting to read today as I will be flying from Hong Kong to Bangalore, India in ten days. I will be there for six weeks. I will not be “doing” India in the traditional sense of going everywhere and seeing everything. I am going to an ashram. Even typing that kind of makes me laugh and think of all the years I spent making fun of teasing speaking with people (alright, yeah I was making fun) I knew in my family and beyond who were doing this kind of thing. Well, if it is not painfully obvious, that is sort of how things go in my life, so I am learning to roll with it. My guideline should not be “Be careful what you wish for” – but “Be careful what you mock…”
The program I am doing looks pretty intense and lasts for four weeks. After that I will have two weeks to bum around and check out the beaches in southern India, or do whatever I feel up to I suppose. But at this point, that is all ahead of me and to spend too much time thinking about it is totally counterproductive to the reality that I am faced with now as I finish up with my job (nine more days!!) and get everything in order so that I can go. And there is a shit ton to be done.
- House sitters
- Cat sitters
- Things to buy
- Accounts to balance
- Bills to pay and pay ahead
- Organizing things for the major shift that may occur on my return (!!!)
- Packing…
And ohmygod – what does one pack for a trip like this? The duration the focus and the follow-up lack of any sort of focus at all? There are sort of two schools of thought… bring everything or nothing when you go long. I think I am going to opt for the latter. I also have to deal with working out details of sim cards, computers, cameras, electronic paraphernalia [finally going to sync up my 'new' MacBook, my two iPods, my hard drive and my iPhone...] Then assuming I am fully occupied for the first four weeks, there is the after part to consider planning, Goa? Kerala? Agra? Oh, and I am still working FULL-time through April 30. (8 more working days if anyone is counting…)
One of the best parts of this whole thing is that my teacher in Hong Kong, who has helped me make this all work, is sending his brother to the same program (hopefully not in the same course because I nearly died when he said his brother was WAY more flexible than he is – what? How is that even possible?? ) But I am excited to meet him, and to have an ally in-country, as it were.
Basically, I am trying to get all ready to just take this all as it comes, wish I could do the same with regard to the money part too =) Here begins the great experiment of going – intentionally – into the vast unknown, and just seeing what one might see… May it not be the scenario of the bear who went over the mountain… please? Or – if it is let’s hope I can ride the tide of the unknown a little longer. I always liked the idea of big wave surfing, maybe this is my wave. I think I am gonna play this one by ear.
I’ll keep you posted.
T(minus)10.
[photo from here.]
My Yoga Journey: The Prologue
I bought a yoga magazine yesterday. It is the first time I have done that. Ever. I wondered if it marked some sort of transition in my yoga journey… Or if I really just felt the need to spend nearly US$10 (?!?!) on a magazine. I think it is a marker of a new level of interest rather than fiscal irresponsibility, but I guess we will see. One of the articles I was reading had to do with someone’s yogic journey. Yogic Journey. I think I have embarked on one of those…
My interest in yoga has been on a fast track. I have only been practicing since April 2008. Two years. Though my practice has been regular, my understanding has only just begun to expand to really broach the vast concepts of yoga. I mean, it is great to be able to do push-ups again, and to be able to stand and walk on my hands again, and to have discovered that I do, in fact, have oblique abdominal muscles (and I love them)… but the physical part of yoga is the easy part. Really. I struggled initially with even the most basic elements of the spiritual side of the practice; I had to concentrate really hard be very focused not to giggle through the aum-ing. Don’t even get me started on aum-shanti-shanti. And the breathing presented a challenge that was herculean, which I found incredibly ironic in light of the fact that breathing is, like, the only thing I can honestly say I have ever done for more than five years (my general threshold before I reach the point of intolerance of anything.) I mean, I have been (ostensibly) drawing breath forever. What then, could be making it so bloody hard?
But I persevered. And much of this had to do with finding a really inspiring teacher. Through it all my yoga journey thus far has not been without its bumps and obstructions. Some physical: the discovery of a back injury that is most likely the result of years of athletics and requiring a great deal of tedious attention now. Some personal: the conscious choice to alter my lifestyle to accommodate my yoga practice has been met with some friendly resistance from… friends. Some mental: the plain truth that I do not know how to quiet my brain on command.
What I have noticed about yoga is that it makes me feel a lot better. Always. And not just physically, though that is definitely true, but it improves my days in subtle ways that, when combined, add up to significant differences. A yoga teacher named Rod Stryker says one reason that yoga makes us feel so good because it activates our parasympathetic nervous system (the part of the nervous system responsible for “telling our muscles to relax, improving digestion and assimilation, boosting immunity, helping with sleep, normalizing blood pressure and lowering your heart rate.) Basically this system counteracts the daily grind. But since lots of people do not do the type of yoga that focuses on the parasympathetic nervous system, Stryker concludes that what really does it for us is…
Life Force.
Okay, I know, it sounds silly. But until you try it, you are just going to have to trust me. Prana means life force, and yoga gets it moving. Prana is breath – it is breathing. Simple in concept if not reality, but awesome to know you’ve got it in you all the time. Think about it. Every time you ever freaked out – like really freaked out – about something, what were you told to do… “Take a deep breath…” In pain? Having a baby? “Breathe…” Hard workout? “Exhale, inhale…” Panic attack? “Take a few long deep breaths.” Hiccups? “Breathe.” I find it pretty bitchin’ to realize that the best tool we have to make ourselves feel better is right there with us, all the time. I am glad I have stuck with the breathing.
I switched yoga studios about 15 months into my practice. Best decision ever. I did this because the teachers I liked were all leaving the McStudio I belonged to, which really caters to a certain type of yoga student that I am not. This choice took me to a whole new place literally and figuratively and in a small, quiet, clean and serene setting I have been able to really try some new things and develop a level of trust with my teacher that has totally changed my practice.
And this has all been the prologue, my lengthy and mostly cautious embarkation on to the yoga bandwagon. The journey is really about to kick off because in three weeks I will go to Bangalore to participate in an intense yoga training at an ashram for a month. That should be a very interesting chapter. I have my airline tickets, my visa and my place in the course.
I suppose that means I am going. Watch this space…
Is it the journey or the destination that matters? I am not sure. But both are bound to be interesting. I started doing yoga as a way to deal with some things in my life that were no longer satisfying to me. Escapism? Maybe. And now yoga is offering me a way to change things in my life that are no longer what I want them to be. Perfect. Aaaauuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
You asked why, I will try to tell you.
Yoga is a process of becoming free from limited definitions of the field of consciousness. ~ Patanjali
I am not sure I can effectively explain the reason behind my interest in and focus on yoga over the past months. I suppose it has been more than a few months, but whatever, no need to be so specific. But I feel sort of compelled to try to articulate it because, well, because then maybe people will quit telling me I am crazy. Or maybe it will only solidify my craziness in their minds, but at least I know I will have made the effort.
I started doing yoga because I needed something to do to take my mind off of things that were becoming increasingly challenging in my life and which I felt were out of my control. It turned out that they were, of course, entirely within my control once I got brave enough to deal with them, but that is not the point here. I had never done yoga, and in fact had thought it was sort of a silly pastime of the less athletically inclined, or people who were trying to be a part of something that rang false (to me). [Yeah, yeah... judgement reigns supreme.] However, my options in Hong Kong seemed to be quite limited with regard to physical activity – dragon boating? Umm, HELL NO. Basketball? Cannot with my work schedule. The Gym? Simply an extension of the LKF meat market that I was ready to avoid forever. So, yoga it was.
And it was good.
I went to a big old huge place where the classes had like 50 people in them. We’ll call it “Mega Yoga.” Not knowing any different I rolled with it and made my way. Slowly. Yoga is really hard if you want it to be. But I immediately noticed that it made me feel better. Like, not just physically, but really shifted my mood noticeably. That seemed like a good thing, all things considered. There were some really good teachers at Mega Yoga, and I felt like I was learning a lot. But the place itself was kind of annoying, and it definitely caters to a tai-tai’s certain type of person that I am not. The vibe was not ideal, but the purpose remained intact.
Then the teachers that I really liked started to leave. One by one they were disappearing and it was clear that things were not going the way I wanted them to go at Mega Yoga. I was not sure what I was going to do. I did not know any of the teachers, like really know them and I am quite sure that none of them had even ever heard my voice – I go to yoga for the practice, not for conversation (which has become an issue on occasion – and I know you all who know me are laughing to think of me as mute, but there you go…) – and so even though I wanted to ask them what was up, I didn’t. Fortunately, my cousin, who is much more forward in circumstances like this and was a member of the same studio did inquire. And on the heels of his inquiry I finally asked one of the teachers, my favorite one, where he was going. It was a funny conversation, like the weird ones where you have seen someone a million times, but still have to introduce yourself. Odd. But, then I got a little bit of the info, he would be going home to India and then to a new studio in a different part of Hong Kong. Hm. Again, not ideal for me and potentially forcing me to deal with change. Damn. But as Vonnegut says, ‘So it goes.’
Of course, I did not remember the name of the place where this teacher was going and I had no idea how I would find it – or him – if I didn’t work it out. And then one morning I decided to get off the bus at a different stop just for variety and walk to work a different way. Randomly. And as I was walking along talking on the phone I believe, I saw the teacher. It was one of those funny moments, like I know my students have when they see me out my classroom context. But there he was. And we stopped and exchanged numbers.
Then he went to India and I went home for month.
Not enough hours in the day…
Perhaps I am just being greedy. Or inefficient. Or regressing to a lesser enlightened state, which is not to say that I am somehow enlightened. But as I always say, a girl can dream. I need more hours to do all the things I want to do.
Key word = “want.”
You can keep all the hours you like, Great Time Keeper in the Sky, for all those tedious tasks I am not so interested in doing. [And there are a few.]
I have a pretty simple life, and I mean this in the most appreciative way. I really have all the time I want to arrange as I see fit. But still, I keep falling short. I can’t really work it out. It is like some sort of complex math equation. I used to feel like I had so much time and now – nada. I imagine some of my choices are contributing directly to this. I choose to get up really, really early in the morning for yoga, and as I work nights this means that I do not do much of anything after work any more. This has not gone without comment to be sure. I hope someday I will be able to articulate the rationale for this particular choice, not because I owe it to anyone, but it does get really tiring listening to people tell you that you are crazy. [They say it like they are kidding, but...] And I choose to do other time-consuming things like, erm… blog. Oh, and I am reading a very voluminous novel that I can’t put down, which in turn has retarded the writing process. And the photo uploads. And then how am I supposed to get to Avatar if I keep this up?
See? All fun stuff. I don’t want to NOT do what I am doing, I just want more time to do it. Well, truth be told I wouldn’t mind less time in the office… but somethings are just a necessary part of the larger whole. If you Google more hours in the day you get 192,000,000 hits, so it turns out there are a lot of people out there dealing with this same conundrum.
What would you do with your extra hours?
Five Questions and some thanks for giving.
QUESTION #1: Who thought this was a good idea? It is not. It is actually a very bad idea. Sort of like this. I am aware of Movember and realize that it is probably necessary to fund men’s health in light of the current health care crises, and of course the cessation of funding to education, which actually – believe it or not – contributes to the sorts of stuffs people need to know in order to make discoveries to help men’s health… but I digress. Am I: A woman who loves a Mo and wants to support the efforts of a Mo Bro in their life?
Not a whole lot of love for the Mo going on up in here.
[QUESTION #1 part 2: Why doesn't Tarzan have a beard? For real.]
QUESTION #2: If you are clearly a hipster by visual design, but you did not accomplish this momentous feat intentionally, it just kind of happened, are you in fact, a hipster?
QUESTION #3: Sarah Palin? Seriously? I stand by my assertion that one should not use words they can neither spell nor define. You are out on called strikes Palin. How Glenn Beck of you.
QUESTION #4: Why can’t I get this in Hong Kong? I feel cheated.
QUESTION #5: What is the meaning of life? I suppose this is as good an answer as any. Unless it is yoga. Then I like that answer better.
And on that note: I am thankful for the infinite ways that my students make my days unique, challenging and interesting… giving hope that there might be more than “bugger all down here.”
Ahhhh…. Carbohydrates: Thank YOU.
Alright… so it is winter in Hong Kong now. I think I wrote about it being fall last week, and that was nice. For a minute. Now it is winter and it is cold. Before you go telling me what a thin-skinned baby I must mention that when it gets into the forties here, with the damp and the lack of insulation and floor to ceiling tile… it is cold. Like colder than San Francisco summers cold. Colder than Incline winters cold. For real, because at least in Incline my Audi had heated seats and stylish warm boots were on my feets.
Here, it is just cold. And I do not have my cold weather clothes. And the cold came without warning. I very well may end up in one of the hats pictured above; a really popular item on the street today, by the way… Along with full length down parkas.
It is 52 degrees out there today. [My aunt visiting from Portland thinks it is all a bit funny.] It will be 44 tomorrow. Brr.
To be fair, the weather has been a bit harsh, huge winds and spitting rain last night on my walk home, a sampan was out due to the sea conditions. And my cats are going mental because I am not leaving their in-and-out window open because if I do I cannot get my apartment warm enough at night. So last night when I got home it looked like someone had tossed my place. But no, just cat mayhem. And I was too tired to deal with it. I was up at 5 a.m. yesterday to go to early yoga then less early yoga, then to get my nails done, then to lunch then to work, then to another appointment, then to the ferry, then home. At 10:30 p.m. Consequently, this morning I was exhausted on awakening at 6:00 a.m. and looked outside at the seriously blustery day.
The sky was grey.
The sea was black.
The trees were getting whipped.
The wind was really howling.
All I wanted to do was to crawl back into bed with a book, some hot coffee.
And a truck load of carbohydrates.
For real: all I want these days consists of baked goods, bread, muffins, croissants… you name the carb – I want it. It is a good thing it is winter and I have to wear every item of clothing I own simultaneously because for now at least it will disguise my irresistible urge for carbo-loading that the cold weather has induced. At least until it gets hot again – likely to be in a week or so.
And so in keeping with the Thanksgiving gratitude thing… yesterday I was very thankful for hot coffee and yummy hot soup, and today I want to say thanks for the change in the weather which makes everything seem a little more cozy, and the November 1 Christmas decorations slightly less sacrilegious… and the carbohydrates that much more delicious.
Oh, and thank you thank you thank you for the yoga practice that will also help to stave off the effects of scandalous carb consumption.
Okay… Okay! Okay!!! I get it! There is a lot to learn.
I realize that learning is infinite. I accept this fully. I generally even really appreciate this and advocate for embracing this as one of life’s greatest gifts.
But Holy Hell! Can a kid get a break once in a while? I am so tired of *%$*%)@!*^ learning lessons lately.
My brain is F-U-L-L.
I have no idea if the lessons have been here to learn all along and I have been too obtuse to notice, or if there is in fact, something major going on. But Oh. My. God. It is full on. I often watch my friend Adele’s amazing young son with awe as he is taking in all the world has to teach him. And he, my little B.F.F., has much to learn. He knows this and is okay with it most of the time. But there are those moments, like the moments I had today, when you can see the emotion welling up in him because it is all just too much to comprehend and yes, too much to freaking LEARN, sometimes. Of course, unlike me, he is five. He is supposed to be immersed in life lessons. Where is the justice here?
Sometimes I wish it could just be easy. For my L.B.F.F. and for me.
In the course of a few short hours today I had so much to take in. I think I managed. But it was exhausting. Flexibility, patience, chillaxing. Sometimes those are the only things you need.
And yoga, of course. Thank whoever I need to thank for that.
So yeah, in keeping with the Days of Gratitude leading up to Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the lessons, but still, man, I could use a break for just minute.
How about tomorrow?
Eat, Pray, Emulate.
I went to see my yoga teacher’s master/teacher this weekend. I could not go to the practice that he held last night because of work, but I am glad I got to hear him talk and to see him. I am kind of embarrassed to admit it, but I really wanted to just see what he was like in relation to how I look at his student who is trying so hard everyday to teach me new things. I was a little nervous. But I went.
And it was totally cool.
I like the energy that people who are completely in possession of who they are can project. It is a unique thing to behold, and I know very few people who are really that way. I know plenty who think they are, but few who really are, and you can tell the difference immediately. I live in a place filled to the brim with individuals who claim to be uber-enlightened. You know, they have all the right music, incense, books – yeah, they bought the t-shirt. Funny enough, they tend to be some of the most judgmental and narrow minded people I have encountered. Like judgmental AND patronizing all at the same time. It is an UNjoy to behold. The guruji I saw on Sunday had it going on for real. He was totally different than the people I usually see professing their enlightenment. He was just really happy, and that is sort of what I hope enlightenment is really all about. And then he mentioned Osho, which is also cool because I have been digging Osho ever since I realized he could be all deep AND talk about the “F-word.”
Enlightenment is the understanding that this is all, that this is perfect, that this is it. Enlightenment is not an achievement, it is an understanding that there is nothing to achieve, nowhere to go.
Put that on your list of “Things that make you go, ‘Hmmmmmmm….’”
Devotion.
A silly beginner, basic apprentice aggression
In the absence of a master, trying to make up my own lesson
Who knew I would wait,
I would wait such a long time…
~ Astronautalis, Oceanwalk
I have been known to mock devotion a little bit. Okay, I have been known to mock a ton of shit, but I have really taken it to the devotees. It has just struck me as so… simple, I guess. Like a way to not have to think about things for yourself while you stroke some big old dogma lying on the rug.
And so, of course, here we go with the whole bit about learning lessons [really just a euphemism for the reverse-I-told-you-so].
Recently I have begun to understand how people could become so devoted. Not hopelessly devoted, (like I have often joked), nor necessarily devotional, (that, too, is an area around which I find it hard to mask my mirth, as it were.) But more like, totally committed and receptive to the guidance that is being presented to you. In whatever form this takes.
This surprises me.
Who knew I would wait, I would wait such a long time.
I am inspired by this person. I look forward to hearing what this individual has to say. I feel good to be in their presence. I am calmed by the knowledge that this human being is present in my life. I listen to this person. But more than that I hear what he is saying.
And, of course, I did not realize that this would happen. I sort of tried to avoid it. Ironically, my method of avoiding was to adopt the consciousness I just disparaged above… I wanted to be dedicated to something and not really have to think about it… not to have to learn. But in the new context within which I have found myself, thinking and learning are required, pleasantly demanded, you might even say. And the idea of a “Master” has always been completely and totally annoying to me in pretty much every way I could manifest the concept. [I do not like being 'told' as it were.] So, I am wondering if I got tricked a little bit here, because I totally did not see this one coming. He is clearly a master. But he is not like any master I could have imagined. I am not sure he is “my” master either, I think he just sort of exists in his own little parallel universe of calm, cool and collected. [When I joked that I wanted to take him home and just keep him in a drawer or something just to have him there, my cousin said, 'Yeah, and if you had a 2'x2'x2' drawer he could fit easily into it.'] But in all seriousness, he has some very interesting things to say… more to the point, things to demonstrate. And I am fascinated.
It is strange and cool and reassuring. I certainly subscribe to the idea that learning in infinite, but I am rarely so conscious of the learning I do. [My lessons usually kick me pretty square in the ass. Effective, yes. Not so gentle on the psyche though.]
Conscious receptiveness is totally bitchin’. I guess this means I was ready.
Bring it.
On blow drying and book writing.
“Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show…”
I decided to blow dry my hair this morning after yoga. I realize this is not really worthy of a blog in its own right… but bear with me. I decided to dry my hair because:
1) I am sort of lazy and it takes about 40 minutes to totally dry my hair.
2) Blow drying my hair is usually a futile exercise because I live in 70% humidity on average.
3) It is really cold here right now so it feels better to have dry hair regardless of #1 and #2 above.
4) It would prolong my early arrival at the Office.
5) I had finished the book that had been my recent obsession on the way to yoga
So, there I was. Drying. It wasn’t so bad really.
I thought a lot about the book I had just finished reading… Divisadero, by Michael Ondaatje. I have read two of his other books, The English Patient and Anil’s Ghost, both of which I realize I was supposed to like more than I actually did. But this one I loved. I loved how he made these three totally separate stories make sense as layers of a larger idea. More than loved it, I wondered how he did it. Because it works and serves to really strengthen the more subtle themes of all the stories.
The book is set in places intimately familiar to me, save for rural France (but that is on my list) and I am not sure if that played into my enjoyment of the novel, but it certainly added a level of texture that I was ready to take in at this time.
I thought about all the characters and I wound my hair around the scratchy round hairbrush I carry in my yoga bag. I wanted to know some of them better and some a lttle less, but not for lack of knowing as much as just wanting. Maybe that is a good strategy: always leave them wanting more.
I thought about when I will actually write my book(s). I wished my hair was longer as I watched it starting to go dry, almost time to see my favorite Frenchman again and pretend that my hair is actually the color it claims to be. Watching the whole blow drying process makes me notice that my hair used to be longer, and blonder, but I guess one thing will take care of itself and the other will be handled by the Frenchman. Who would I include in my story?
I have a lot of ideas for books, but then I guess everyone who ever puts words to paper regularly says that. I am especially good with coming up with titles. I wonder if an entire book of book titles would be interesting. For people aside from me that is…
I also think a lot about chapters. Like how I would organize everything in each chapter… chronologically? By subject? By concept? Completely anachronistically? Alphabetically? I thought again about the book I had just read. Ondaatje said, with no shortage of brilliance:
“There is the hidden presence of others in us, even those we have known briefly. We contain them for the rest of our lives, at every border that we cross.”
And thinking on that, I wrote an entire book in my head as I blow dried. Chapter by chapter. Each one a person, with an epigraph to set the mood. Then there were just a few thrown in the mix to serve as an interlude. It told the story of me with other people. It worked. I like this approach because, frankly, in the words of Holden Caulfield:
“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don’t feel like going into it.”
Then my hair was dry and I had to go. Maybe tomorrow I will craft another masterpiece.
As long as I still need to dry my hair.
Things I wanna do and things I get to do….
Like, duh.
I would like to be able to explain, clearly and articulately, the synchronous nature of life. For example, I am absolutely buried in college essay right now as my students all jockey for position and line themselves up to get into the best schools and programs of study. I am reading and re-reading tales of their trials, tribulations, successes and near failures (can’t really admit to failure when you are talking to Yale, now can you? Of course, Yale took ‘W’ in, so they really owe us all a big one in hindsight.) And as I read these essays I remember what it was like to be thinking about college… and I love it. I am not envious in the sense that I want to go back in time, but it is a really fun thing to experience vicariously. At the very SAME moment that I am surrounded by all of this… I am meeting someone (semi-randomly) who went to UCSD at the same time I did, and who I think I may know, but I am not sure. And it is total college flashback of a different sort. But regardless of those little details… here are some other oddities: He lived in Mexico – so did I and you all know how I feel about Mexico. We lived blocks away from each other in Del Mar. He lived in NYC after UCSD and lived in the SAME building on the Upper West that one of my dearest friends from Petaluma (!) lived in for years… and I was there… passing in the halls? I dunno, but it gives pause. Now he lives in my old stomping ground in SF and travels to HK for work where I will meet him.
I don’t care how cynical you are. That shit is WEIRD.
Something else I want to do is finally finsih my Robbie Williams Space Alien blog. Maybe this weekend. I think it has potential to be awesome (though it is a bit datyed now, I started months ago) but considering it now, it is also evidence of freaky synchronicity.
Maybe it is all because I used to really love that song…
With one breath, with one flow
You will know
Synchronicity
A sleep trance, a dream dance,
A shared romance
SynchronicityA connecting principle
Linked to the invisible
Almost imperceptible
Something inexpressible
Science insusceptible
Logic so inflexible
Causally connectible
Yet nothing is invincibleIf we share this nightmare
Then we can dream
Spiritus mundi
If you act as you think
The missing link
SynchronicityWe know you, they know me
Extrasensory
Synchronicity
A star fall, a phone call
It joins all
SynchronicityIt’s so deep, it’s so wide
You’re inside
Synchronicity
Effect without a cause
Sub-atomic laws, scientific pause
Synchronicity…..
I also want to hit the road again… can’t decide if I should go back to Bali… to Sri Lanka… or to Vietnam. Will haveto decide soon I imagine.
in the midst of all this wanting lie all the things I get to do:
- Read essays
- Yoga
- Drink too much coffee
- Read more essays
- Play with my iPhone (yes, Eden, I do want to marry it)
- Go see silly country music played by stoners dressed like yokels in Wan Chai
- Go to Oktoberfest – Hong Kong style at the horse races….
- Read some more essays
- Do some more yoga
- Sleep – well, actually, I might not get to do that….
No matter, a star fall, a phone call… it joins all.
I am crabby.
I said I was going to try and write everyday and I am sticking to it.
So far anyhow.
It is Day One.
I am super crabby today and I am not sure why as I have no personal reason to be. I have been examining the dark little corners of my brain and regardless of how far I go in there, I find little if anything to be crabby about. Yet here I am.
I saw a guy at the grocery store today wearing a pinstripe suit. I mean, pinstripes like would have been appropriate for Jim Carey in The Mask… Serious zoot suit styling. And this annoyed me.
Why?
My yoga class was annoying today. The teacher had no flow. Or was it me? I am not sure, but that was annoying too.
I also ate my lunch too fast and now I have a stomach ache, which of course is totally annoying.
I have a completely chill work day today and I am annoyed by work. Huh? [Though this could be do to my office's version of The Copy Guy outside my door who never stops with his constant stream of inane and really limited social skills.]
Now I am thinking maybe this is not all about me… *gasp* NOT all about me? How can that be???
Maybe I am crabby about the state of the economy. World politics. George Bush always seems like a good one to blame for stuff. Maybe I am crabby because it is hard to see the sky through the pollution in Hong Kong or because we are destroying more species everyday on this planet than anyone ever thought possible. Or it could be my semi-defeatist attitude about the coming election, btw, I did get a second absentee ballot in the mail… should I vote twice?
Nah… everyone is dealing with the same stuff and they do not seem so annoyed, so I guess in the end, it IS all about me.
I better snap out of it.
And to punctuate the reality that I have no reason to be really crabby here is one of my favorite advertisements from that other little financial crisis we suffered a while back.
Amanda
