I met my inner Buddha. She was a real bitch.

From today's Washington Post.

Honoring Guruji@Urban Zen

Urban Zen hosted a celebration in memory of of Astanga yoga guru Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, bringing together yogis from the many practices around New York City. I wonder what guruji would have thought of that. If my teachers, direct students of his, are any indication, probably not much.



SKPJ was big on Astanga, and not much else when it came to yoga. The system of practice he developed, however, was originally intended to help teenage boys sit still for meditation. The practice's curative effects came known to him over decades of teaching, as was evidenced by the people who spoke at the ceremony.

I may be prejudiced because I've studied with her, but my favorite speaker was Ruth Lauer-Manenti. It didn't hurt that her story also most closely reflected my own. Twenty years ago, an injured, emaciated Sharon Gannon convinced an injured Ruth she had to go to India. There she set about doing her practice her way, meaning no shoulder stand. But Guruji insisted. "You do. You do!" She (finally) did, and it revolutionized her ability to move beyond the limits of her mind. Which is not to say I've forgotten the injuries. Or those teenage boys.

Teenage boys are extremely competitive, and this practice demands years and effort and concentration and it's damn hard. The sequence builds as the practitioner masters postures, which stokes a teenager's innate desire to outdo his mates on the mat. Of course, I've never seen a teenage Indian boy in class. Those of us who do stay with Astanga are inherently competitive. Over time this work yields a beautiful relationship with this aspect of ourselves, but what often results in the meantime is injury. It's required far more strength of me to know my limits and respect my teacher--whether the instruction is to push ahead or not. Today I rarely practice "pure" Astanga, but like the evening at Urban Zen, I blend. The result has been, like the evening itself, pure magic.

A few quick notes on the night--Donna Karan wore all black against a lit screen, very effectively shrouding herself (ie, not calling attention to herself, incredibly admirable considering that the event in her space was free of charge).




John Campbell paid a lovely tribute to the community aspect, nodding to his own Buddhism and the fact that Guruji never tried to dissuade his beliefs. And Courtney McDowell exemplified how the practice teaches you to inhabit everyday life, rather than focusing overmuch on what you think you can or should be reaching for.




For me it was a real thrill to be in the place that came to my attention the first morning I returned from India. My mom roused me to the television set while Karan was on the Today show talking about the center she'd established to advance the cause of bringing more holistic options into the world of health care -- Urban Zen. I never would have imagined that not only would I get to go visit, but that I'd be drawn there to study.

In Memory of SK Pattabhi Jois

This Sunday, June 14, 2009@Urban Zen

street fair in my hood

Natlie Dylan's $3.8 million hymen

OK, so I'm a little late to the party. But maybe you are too?
Natalie Dylan discussing the sale of her virginity has caused quite a stir. Outrage all around. Let me be the first to admit it--I'm jealous. Yup, I've finally come around to seeing how youth is wasted on the young. If this woman can command that kinda dough.... shit, I really missed the boat. She might be only 22, but our dear Nat's got the business sense of a 58-year-old, male corporate executive. C'mon, to be surprised that female sexuality is a commodity on the bargaining table is patently ridiculous. But the idea that this woman is getting that kind of deal, well, sheesh, just blows my mind. I'm waiting for the "just kidding"! At least a photocopy of the check.

And so...

Scout's comment reminded me to say how the energy work appointment actually went.

I was on time (whew!) and then we spoke a bit about my homework--noting how often I "yes, but" the world (often). Then I laid on her table while she touched my feet, then my sacrum, then my skull, then it was over. That was about 45 minutes of deep calm, but the minute she moved away my mind leapt up. The feeling was abandonment--by this woman I've spoken to three times. Great, I thought, not fixed.

The rest of my day was fairly easy, so when I ran into a woman I barely know who was very upset about her boyfriend, I took the time to listen. She was frustrated with herself for acting in ways that alienated him; she didn't want to be that person but felt she couldn't help it. It felt like I was listening to myself. From out of nowhere I found myself telling her what I know is true--that we are not running the show. She was in that dance with someone else, and while of course change is possible, one person can't make it happen. And just like that I saw that indeed there had been a deeper shift, because I could see how true and simple this was. I woke up, reminded myself of this fact, and have since set about doing what's in front of me, keeping in mind I'm not in charge. So far so good. For now.

Energy Work

I have some disdain for the phrase "energy work," and all things related to it. Like Reiki. Hey, I'd be happy to stand over you and push the air around. Sixty dollars please... And yet, today I'm off for some energy work. At more than 20 years logged in on a real effort at a spiritual journey, there remain in my life many many many nonspiritual aspects. Being judgmental, for instance. But here's the thing, I have met loads of people who claim to work with your energy field, and for the most part they all say the same thing. It works if you believe it works. Uh, that sounds a little too close to Christian Science for me. Of course if you believe you're going to benefit from the air pushing, I do believe you can feel better as a result. And for the most part, I don't think people doing this work are shysters. I believe they believe. But I've come to a point in the road where trudging the same old direction just isn't working. I'm afraid to give up being judgmental--I mean, what the hell am I gonna say at all?--but I'm willing to at least see what she says. During the course of our conversation this woman didn't ask me to believe anything, but I experienced a shitstorm of emotions. And the next day I felt better than I had in a while. But feeling better temporarily isn't enough, or I'd go back to drugs. I don't just want to hush the voices of the sniping inner committee, I want to turn them into cheerleaders. Guess we'll see.