(Sometime in Oct.)
Thank you for your energy, thank you for your breath. Your focused intention kept me moving this morning. Emerging from a dream.
You see, I had a hard night last night; this or that was consuming me. So slow to embrace the morning, feeling uninspired and the same same. Walking in to the stink as if dragging a giant dead cobra tail, stiff from the coccyx to the neck, coccyx to the toes. Everything loose, everything hanging.
I want to go back to sleep, I thought. More sleep, go sleep, now sleep, more sleep. Eyes closed breathing normal. Head back on the pillow where I started. Feet, knees elbows, hands – everything in one line in my bed.
It was class number 55 in half as many days. Groundhog Day feeling in full force. I stood and I breathed in and out and wanted to waste it.
But I couldn’t.
Around me were people with eyes staring straight ahead and mouths drawn in a straight line. Everyone so intently focused there in the mirror, listening and moving to the words that have become so familiar.
Power.
I couldn’t sit down; if I did then so does the guy behind me in the tiger shorts, and then the skinny, strong girl to my side doesn’t push it so hard. I can not vacuum up all the energy with my pity. I decide to try because I can and I must.
I believe in it.
And we elevate each other. Side by side. No words of encouragement. Just breath. Breathe in, breathe out. Stay with me. Soon you will be floating on a million stars in the ocean, just like a dream.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
breathe, sweets
Nov. 10 or so –
What does it mean to be floating out in the sea clinging to a tiny life boat?
You’ve done it to yourself, cast your self away for a chance to discover something truly epic, something that will feed you for years to come; or so you think.
There you are, drifting almost aimlessly, taking strokes every now and then to propel you one way, away from the place you came. It is a futile attempt because in your heart you know, a wave, or maybe just a gentle current will bring you back to where you were.
Defeat.
You must paddle harder.
Struggle harder.
But the craft isn’t even sea worthy, your mind falters. You are becoming weak, muscles complain and become stiff. You are losing faith, becoming confused about the task at hand, what you are doing and why. The person you were about to become is getting lost in the horizon, sinking like the setting sun as you drift aimlessly in the sea.
LOST.
Looking for something, grasping at the water that sifts easily through your fingertips, mocking you.
Where is the strength God gave you the pleasure of seeing for just a split moment, the vision that propelled you into the great sea with nothing but hope, ambition, strength, power.
Power.
You are afraid to realize your power. You almost just let it go. But now that you are in the middle of the sea, letting go doesn’t just mean deflating yourself again, living like the rest, it means death, drowning.
Sorrow.
The sun rises now, you squint your eyes as the golden rays invade you, filling you, giving you another glimpse of who you are and what is inside of you.
The boat is not sea worthy, you are feeling exhausted, a wave is building far off in India that will travel thousands of miles to sweep you away.
You are helpless, hopeless, floating with no direction,
no chance.
Then you remember something, just the sweet smile of a friend with penetrating knowing eyes.
You set your mind compass to where you want to go. You decide how you will get there, smiling back at your minds eye. Whispering thank you.
Then you are free.
The boat is left behind, the girl becomes one with the ocean forgetting about where and when, merging with the water.
Now she understands that there is no separation, we are all one - force, spirit, destination. There is no golden paradise no matter how long or hard you paddle. There is only the salt of the sea suckling your infant mass, the sticky air surrounding you, the sunshine caressing you and warming your chicken skin and the volatile earth energy awakening you like an insistent lover in the night…
these forces waiting for you to realize there is nowhere to go but under.
Breathe, sweets, breathe.
What does it mean to be floating out in the sea clinging to a tiny life boat?
You’ve done it to yourself, cast your self away for a chance to discover something truly epic, something that will feed you for years to come; or so you think.
There you are, drifting almost aimlessly, taking strokes every now and then to propel you one way, away from the place you came. It is a futile attempt because in your heart you know, a wave, or maybe just a gentle current will bring you back to where you were.
Defeat.
You must paddle harder.
Struggle harder.
But the craft isn’t even sea worthy, your mind falters. You are becoming weak, muscles complain and become stiff. You are losing faith, becoming confused about the task at hand, what you are doing and why. The person you were about to become is getting lost in the horizon, sinking like the setting sun as you drift aimlessly in the sea.
LOST.
Looking for something, grasping at the water that sifts easily through your fingertips, mocking you.
Where is the strength God gave you the pleasure of seeing for just a split moment, the vision that propelled you into the great sea with nothing but hope, ambition, strength, power.
Power.
You are afraid to realize your power. You almost just let it go. But now that you are in the middle of the sea, letting go doesn’t just mean deflating yourself again, living like the rest, it means death, drowning.
Sorrow.
The sun rises now, you squint your eyes as the golden rays invade you, filling you, giving you another glimpse of who you are and what is inside of you.
The boat is not sea worthy, you are feeling exhausted, a wave is building far off in India that will travel thousands of miles to sweep you away.
You are helpless, hopeless, floating with no direction,
no chance.
Then you remember something, just the sweet smile of a friend with penetrating knowing eyes.
You set your mind compass to where you want to go. You decide how you will get there, smiling back at your minds eye. Whispering thank you.
Then you are free.
The boat is left behind, the girl becomes one with the ocean forgetting about where and when, merging with the water.
Now she understands that there is no separation, we are all one - force, spirit, destination. There is no golden paradise no matter how long or hard you paddle. There is only the salt of the sea suckling your infant mass, the sticky air surrounding you, the sunshine caressing you and warming your chicken skin and the volatile earth energy awakening you like an insistent lover in the night…
these forces waiting for you to realize there is nowhere to go but under.
Breathe, sweets, breathe.
wake up
Cottage cheese hanging from glistening white thighs
Arms as weak as spaghetti
Brain nothing but 2000 sheets of blank lose leaf paper
Spine, shoulders, neck, head - all frozen forward
Soul empty like a bowl
Spirit small, heart shriveled like a raisin
Blood traveling slowly like grandma after Thanksgiving...
What are you doing here?
You live, you die – ignorant, stupid depressed.
You are convicted, guilty of wasting your life, your gift.
How could you? Wake UP.
You haven’t even started living yet!
Arms as weak as spaghetti
Brain nothing but 2000 sheets of blank lose leaf paper
Spine, shoulders, neck, head - all frozen forward
Soul empty like a bowl
Spirit small, heart shriveled like a raisin
Blood traveling slowly like grandma after Thanksgiving...
What are you doing here?
You live, you die – ignorant, stupid depressed.
You are convicted, guilty of wasting your life, your gift.
How could you? Wake UP.
You haven’t even started living yet!
Cult of personality
(Written after two weeks of Yoga death camp in Sept. 2007)
"Are you sure you’re not joining a cult" my mom asks just days before I am to leave for Bikram’s yoga teacher training in September. She wasn’t the only one, people I loved and cared about looked concerned for me; they didn’t like Bikram for one reason or another. They didn’t like the heat, the consistency of the postures, the man’s overwhelming extravagance and demeanor that seems condescending towards women and people in general.
Stupid idiots!
I had some of the same fears. Yes, I love the yoga and I never feel better than when I’m doing it, but beyond that I really had very little idea what I was getting into. But, I went and I had a positive attitude and I told everyone who doubted what I was doing to support me in the decision I had made.
So it turns out I did join a cult. But they call it a "family" and all the members are so amazingly beautiful and flexible and healthy and vibrant and fun. So far I have not been asked to sign or pledge to anything, or drink any liquids except electrolyte replacements.
No Kool Aid.
So my cult is fairly positive and inspiring and the mission of the devoted followers is to go around the world and "lock the knee. Lock the knee, lock the knee!"
Realistically the goal seems to be to connect people throughout the universe with a common thread of self-realization through the physical body, practicing the yoga, the spirit, focusing on the self, and the mind.
Mind control is probably the biggest lesson I’m learning in the cult. My guru (self) and the others here talk constantly about mind over the matter. And believe me, when you’ve done 20 yoga classes in half as many days in a room heated to about 115 degrees and you’ve been up until 2 a.m. listening to lectures and then up again at 6:30 to get ready for the a.m. class, there is a definite need for mind control. First, convince the mind to convince the body to get out of bed. Convince the mind to send positive signals to the body about the upcoming experience. Convince mind to shut up, when you feel like you are a pot roast on a low setting leaching vital juices out of your skin. Shut up the mind that tells you to sit out a posture, or fall asleep in the lectures -because you really need it and you paid for it!
Shut up the mind that tells you, "I can’t lock my knee. I can’t kick my leg out. I can’t extend any further…" So, yes, mind control is a big one.
We are 300 people sitting in a large room night after night in the lobby of the Illikai hotel in Waikiki. Elvis stayed here in the 1960s, Bikram says. He knows everyone and he doesn't take any shit. I like him. He has a personality. He is alive and on a mission to promote Bikram yoga throughout the world, and this teacher training shows that he is very successful. There are people from so many different reaches of the world. I am traveling and learning about other cultures, but just staying in one place. Hong Kong, Korea, Japan, Italy, Spain, France, England, Germany, Norway, Canada, Chili, Peru and so many from all parts of the U.S. We are all here because we believe we can help spread the word. Hallelujah and praise the (locked) knee!
"Are you sure you’re not joining a cult" my mom asks just days before I am to leave for Bikram’s yoga teacher training in September. She wasn’t the only one, people I loved and cared about looked concerned for me; they didn’t like Bikram for one reason or another. They didn’t like the heat, the consistency of the postures, the man’s overwhelming extravagance and demeanor that seems condescending towards women and people in general.
Stupid idiots!
I had some of the same fears. Yes, I love the yoga and I never feel better than when I’m doing it, but beyond that I really had very little idea what I was getting into. But, I went and I had a positive attitude and I told everyone who doubted what I was doing to support me in the decision I had made.
So it turns out I did join a cult. But they call it a "family" and all the members are so amazingly beautiful and flexible and healthy and vibrant and fun. So far I have not been asked to sign or pledge to anything, or drink any liquids except electrolyte replacements.
No Kool Aid.
So my cult is fairly positive and inspiring and the mission of the devoted followers is to go around the world and "lock the knee. Lock the knee, lock the knee!"
Realistically the goal seems to be to connect people throughout the universe with a common thread of self-realization through the physical body, practicing the yoga, the spirit, focusing on the self, and the mind.
Mind control is probably the biggest lesson I’m learning in the cult. My guru (self) and the others here talk constantly about mind over the matter. And believe me, when you’ve done 20 yoga classes in half as many days in a room heated to about 115 degrees and you’ve been up until 2 a.m. listening to lectures and then up again at 6:30 to get ready for the a.m. class, there is a definite need for mind control. First, convince the mind to convince the body to get out of bed. Convince the mind to send positive signals to the body about the upcoming experience. Convince mind to shut up, when you feel like you are a pot roast on a low setting leaching vital juices out of your skin. Shut up the mind that tells you to sit out a posture, or fall asleep in the lectures -because you really need it and you paid for it!
Shut up the mind that tells you, "I can’t lock my knee. I can’t kick my leg out. I can’t extend any further…" So, yes, mind control is a big one.
We are 300 people sitting in a large room night after night in the lobby of the Illikai hotel in Waikiki. Elvis stayed here in the 1960s, Bikram says. He knows everyone and he doesn't take any shit. I like him. He has a personality. He is alive and on a mission to promote Bikram yoga throughout the world, and this teacher training shows that he is very successful. There are people from so many different reaches of the world. I am traveling and learning about other cultures, but just staying in one place. Hong Kong, Korea, Japan, Italy, Spain, France, England, Germany, Norway, Canada, Chili, Peru and so many from all parts of the U.S. We are all here because we believe we can help spread the word. Hallelujah and praise the (locked) knee!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
one more open heart
It is dark.
Lead dropped out of the sky, burying me like a pile driver deep into the earth...
I was flying so high.
Just back from nine weeks, a rebirth...awakening of a spirit song left unsung.
Unaware it was even there, and then, out of the clear blue - like a man crying for the first time in 25 years - there is singing.
Clear.
Brilliant, but almost violent. Shaking the very core of you.
Where was this part of you all along? The part that is open to the universe, like you are best pals with everyone, in love, with a smile that penetrates everything that you see.
Hope.
A light.
A quake.
How do you take this music with you? How do you come back to where you were once you've heard that voice? It's haunting. It rings in your ears. BUZZING. Singing. A distraction from any memory of the old life.
Once you see the light, forget about the rest. Leave the men and the bars and the street lights -the fading flickering lights - the Styrofoam plates and plastic ware, the blue and white streamers... leave it all behind.
Go forth with elegance and grace and power, all for less than a dollar. A real bargain...
All with the clothes on your back; nothing but determination, presence, and passion - to love; to believe in this life. To acknowledge that one life is not enough because of the way it overflows everyday and how you lay down when it's dark exhausted.
Completly spent.
Only to rise again and look at the rays of light over the water and open yourself to it. To enter it almost, barely squinting, opening your eyes to the searing white till it hurts and you see spots of blue and green and the great unknown. Obliterating the mundane, the average normal life that snails crawl around in. Soaring, once again. Whether you are in Hawaii under the deep blue sea, or in Colorado under the gray painted sky. Don't give up. Don't give up. There is something you were meant to do and there is no time to waste...
Lead dropped out of the sky, burying me like a pile driver deep into the earth...
I was flying so high.
Just back from nine weeks, a rebirth...awakening of a spirit song left unsung.
Unaware it was even there, and then, out of the clear blue - like a man crying for the first time in 25 years - there is singing.
Clear.
Brilliant, but almost violent. Shaking the very core of you.
Where was this part of you all along? The part that is open to the universe, like you are best pals with everyone, in love, with a smile that penetrates everything that you see.
Hope.
A light.
A quake.
How do you take this music with you? How do you come back to where you were once you've heard that voice? It's haunting. It rings in your ears. BUZZING. Singing. A distraction from any memory of the old life.
Once you see the light, forget about the rest. Leave the men and the bars and the street lights -the fading flickering lights - the Styrofoam plates and plastic ware, the blue and white streamers... leave it all behind.
Go forth with elegance and grace and power, all for less than a dollar. A real bargain...
All with the clothes on your back; nothing but determination, presence, and passion - to love; to believe in this life. To acknowledge that one life is not enough because of the way it overflows everyday and how you lay down when it's dark exhausted.
Completly spent.
Only to rise again and look at the rays of light over the water and open yourself to it. To enter it almost, barely squinting, opening your eyes to the searing white till it hurts and you see spots of blue and green and the great unknown. Obliterating the mundane, the average normal life that snails crawl around in. Soaring, once again. Whether you are in Hawaii under the deep blue sea, or in Colorado under the gray painted sky. Don't give up. Don't give up. There is something you were meant to do and there is no time to waste...
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Groundhog Day
Groundhog Day
Talk about Groundhog Day (referring to the movie, of course with Bill Murray). Every morning at 6:35 a.m. this digital demon wakes me up with what is supposed to be an upbeat ring tone. It’s like elevator music on steroids with, it’s the stuff that makes you want to run. It’s perfect for getting my ass out of bed. I feel pretty darn well rested even though I’ve only been getting four to six hours sleep. The yoga is oxygenating my blood everyday and relaxing my mind so I need less rest. I force myself out of bed the first time the alarm goes off because I can’t imagine having to actually wake up to it again. My roommate Erin goes for five or six rounds. She must like the tune. I go pee, push a little button on the coffee machine that makes me some hot water, make some tea, put on some skimpy yoga wear, go outside and get my mat off the deck, eat some hemp hearts mixed with a banana, drink the tea, hope to poop, wake up the roommate after the fifth ballad hasn't gotten her up, make her coffee and say goodbye. I walk down the hall 54 steps to the elevator. I wait, other little yoga bodies walk up in time. The elevator door opens we shuffle inside, push “L” and wait. Sometimes we go down sometimes we go up and down, eventually we make it down. We walk towards the yoga room with zombie like movements, slow, careful, dazed. I sign in, put my mat down and depending on the time I head for the ocean or the pool. I prefer the ocean but can’t enjoy it so much after I was late one day and had to do a make up class on Saturday. Now I’m a little edgy about the time and tend to err on the side of caution. Eleven yoga classes is enough for one week, although surprisingly, 12 wasn’t too bad.
Cheeseburger in Paradise
Sunday night in Waikiki. Jimmy Buffet is playing at Dukes, says one over anxious surfer I met out at ? Bowl. The waves are small with an occasional over head set that looks amazing. I took one wave to the right, through a pile of people, luckily I actually turned, and then I looked down. Holy shit! The reason this place “bowls” like it does and creates such a perfect tubular wave is because the wave hits a reef and jacks up. Well, I’ve been surfing over reef for a few days now but I have never seen it whizzing by me like this. I was about five inches from the reef trying to keep up with this wave on my nine foot long board. The water is crystal aqua marine blue. Stunning. When you’re waiting for waves you can see your feet dangling below you, when you’re surfing on a particularly shallow section, the reef looks like it’s going to jump up and grab you and mangle your body. Zooming precariously over the reef was amazing, thrilling, scary. After that I started going left where the water is deeper.
Back to Buffet, so this lovely man with tattoos all over tells me Jimmy is playing a free impromptu concert. RAD! I walk a mile or so down the beach to Duke’s; it’s packed. I see the surfer and some of his friends and It looks like the buzz was just a buzz, or if anything Jimmy wasn’t going to show up til later. I’d like to say that at least I got a cheeseburger in paradise, but I was pooped and turned around to saunter home through the tourists and baby surf. Sunday is a wonderful day here at yoga boot camp. It is so sweet to take in the island life, but it is over so soon. Come Monday, it’ll be all right, come Monday, I’ll be holding my foot tight (in standing head to knee). Back to boot camp.
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