Wednesday, January 11, 2006


MYSORE IN THE NEWS
There's a new article about Patabbhi Jois and the Mysore phenomenon -- from an Indian perspective (finally!) -- in Outlook India magazine.

Photo by Saibal Das




OUTLOOKINDIA.COM
Magazine| Jan 16, 2006

Mysore

Sandalwood Simhasana

The sleepy city of Mysore is now a global yoga hub. It's a magnet for a new wave of body-wise disciples — and their dollars.

SUGATA SRINIVASARAJU
Gaga Over Yoga

Mysore's reputation as the premier yoga centre was established by its 3 great modern masters—Pattabhi Jois, B.K.S. Iyengar and T.K.V. Desikachar.

The city now has more than 500 yoga teachers, and a growing industry in the manufacture of yoga mats.

Some 3,000 foreigners, looking to tone their bodies through an authentic yoga experience, are drawn to Mysore's yoga institutes. Westerners increasingly see yoga as a rational alternative to power gyms and slimming centres.

Pattabhi Jois' rigorous ashtanga yoga system has attracted celebrity pupils like Madonna, Demi Moore, Sting and Gwyneth Paltrow.

The fees at Mysore's yoga centres range from Jois' initial of Rs 26,900 to Rs 700 for a single drop-in class.

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Seated on a bench outside a house in Kuvempunagar here, three women from three continents are eating a snack made of beaten rice (poha) for breakfast. Finely chopped coriander is artfully strewn over it. If you think poha is just breakfast food for them, you're mistaken: it's symbolic of the very lightness of being. Each woman is also balancing a tender green coconut between her knees—a new substitute for mineral water. The weak morning sun casts a glow on their mildly perspiring skin—a glow of well-being, induced by yoga. And when Lara, Kyra and Cassandra speak, their lips round out automatically, as if every syllable is an 'Om'.

At first it seems incredible. Can poha and tender green coconut be part of a million-dollar industry with worldwide links? How did Mysore, best known for its scenic Chamundi Hills, its magnificent palace, grand Dasara and a horizontally challenged maharaja, transform itself into the world headquarters for yoga schools? When did this happen?

It actually happened rather quietly and gradually, without publicity and hype. Over four decades ago, Vidwan Pattabhi Jois' first Western student, Andre Van Lysbette, landed in Mysore from Belgium. With that visit, word began to spread that Mysore was the place to learn yoga in India. Now, it's no longer just word of mouth—there are even a couple of books and web journals that chronicle the unique Mysore yoga experience. Last year, it even inspired a 350-page travelogue called Yoga School Dropout by Lucy Edge, published by Random House's prestigious imprint, Ebury Press. Round the year, roughly 3,000 westerners come to learn yoga from various teachers, but chiefly from the nonagenarian Jois.

The Mysore experience is panning out to be a second wave of Understanding-the-Orient for the West. But the scene is quite unlike the Beatles hanging out at the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi ashram in Rishikesh in a chillum-induced trance, or dharma bums speeding on Enfields through the twisting lanes of Pushkar. The firangs in Mysore may have vague ideas about achieving spiritual epiphany and cosmic bliss, but for them the body is as important (or more so) as the wayward soul. Their major goal is to shed flab to the chanting of 'Om asatoma sadgamaya' (and never mind if it sounds like "Om as a roamer sad yamaha"). Yoga is clearly a rational, risk-free alternative to power gyms and slimming centres. Lucy Edge's book even speaks of unofficial body-building competitions among yoga students by the poolside of the local Southern Star hotel.

Mysore's yoga centres offer a contrast to the old 'yogashrams' where a yoga session was part of a woolly-headed mix of spiritual discourses and meditation. They are body factories where you cough up hard-earned dollars in return for a toned body and 'compassionate grace'. "Yoga is about mathematical and psychological precision," says Jayakumar Swamysree, who's taught at Moscow's Indian Embassy for four years and now runs the Pranava Yogadhama in Mysore.

The 'code of conduct' notice hanging outside the Atma Vikasa Yoga Kutira, run by Venkatesha and wife Hema, should help in understanding the prim, pragmatic Mysore mood: 'The student is expected to be sincere, hardworking and obedient'; 'please do not touch the teacher for any cause'; 'decent and dignified behaviour is demanded out of the student; loud chatting, jeering, hugging your partner/others is prohibited'; 'you cannot practice if the dress is improper'; 'money once paid will not be refunded/readjusted'; 'we are not in any way answerable to your prejudices.' "We recommend satvic food," the couple add for good measure. However, the gurus also use terms from western psychology in an effort to secularise yoga and take it beyond Patanjali's sutras (circa 150 BC). As Vidwan Jois puts it, "Yoga is universal".

So where does Mysore get its yoga connection? Well, there's always been a strong tradition of yoga being taught as a formal discipline in the regal city. In the 1930s, Maharaja Krishnaraja Wodeyar offered patronage to a Yogashala under T. Krishnamacharya. He later also ordered the opening of a yoga department at the Sanskrit College here (where Jois taught till he retired in 1973). The three great modern masters of yoga—T.K.V. Desikachar, B.K.S. Iyengar and Pattabhi Jois—are all students of Krishnamacharya and trained at the yogashala. Of the three, Desikachar, Krishnamacharya's son, has settled in Chennai, and Iyengar, who first went to Europe with violinist Yehudi Menuhin, is now in Pune. That leaves Jois, who rules Mysore with his daughter Saraswati and grandson Sharath. His son Manju Jois is a yoga guru in the US.

"He went with me on our first yoga tour to the US in 1975 and decided to stay back. My students did ask me to settle down there, but I find Mysore irresistible," says the elder Jois, whose star pupils include Demi Moore, Sting, Madonna and Gwyneth Paltrow. For Jois' 90th birthday celebrations early last year, over 800 foreign students landed up in Mysore. Iyengar also made the trip. "After I started touring the West, people were exposed to real yoga...they shifted to the ashtanga method," says Jois, beaming with pride. Ashtanga, or 'eight-limbed' yoga, is the rigorous form of yoga taught by Jois.


Jois has inspired a booming new economy in Mysore. There are many young teachers around, most of them less than half his age. Among them, Jayakumar Swamysree and Sheshadri from the Mysore Mandala, and Venkatesha attract a fair number of foreign students. As an identity marker, each has evolved his own yoga method, claiming it to be different from Jois' ashtanga. For instance, Venkatesha, a back-bending expert, calls his method 'atma vikasa'.

But none of the younger gurus can compare with Jois when it comes to demand. His students pay an initial fee of Rs 26,900 and Rs 16,900 per month thereafter. The lore is he has a currency counting machine installed, what with 99 per cent of his students being foreigners. At present, he has about 150 foreign students on the rolls whose virtues he extols: "Their guru bhakti, dedication is far greater."

Venkatesha charges about Rs 8,000 a month while Jayakumar says he's not particular about money and will accept whatever is offered. Sheshadri, the only one who offers drop-in classes, is said to charge Rs 500-700 per class. According to Hema, Mysore has more than 500 yoga teachers, professionals as well as part-timers. "Earlier, only ashtanga was popular, now other methods too are becoming popular," she claims.

Many westerners come to the top teachers for teacher training certificates so they can go back and start their own yoga classes. The fees are much higher for such training, the logic being that once trained, they go back and earn lots more.Jayakumar's teacher training programmes are registered with Yoga Alliance, a standard-setting organisation for the yoga teaching industry in the US. Mao, a jeweller from Slovakia, is currently enrolled with Jayakumar for the same. Alex Barlow, who has signed up with Venkatesha, has decided to give up his profession as a landscaping artist to teach yoga. Lara Herdman and Kyra Sudofsky, also with Venkatesha, have come back for a second stint to upgrade their skills. But there are also others like Steve Render, a rugby player, who are in Mysore just to tone their bodies.

Jois' students are in awe of their guru, a huge global yoga brand who does not need to innovate with teacher-training programmes to boost his image or income. They see him as a living example of what he teaches. Rob Zarachowicz points out that he is "very sharp for 91". Says Jill Ainsworth of New Orleans, who is with "guruji" for the third time, "It's a great feeling to be around his energy...it's very expensive to get here but it's also very compelling."

Despite his age, Jois still travels abroad, and will tour London and San Francisco in March 2006. "Across the US and in Europe, many of my students have opened ashtanga yoga centres in my name," Jois says. This has caused some to ask whether it is New York or Mysore that is the yoga capital of the world. Jois puts the debate to rest with a single line: "But I live in Mysore."

Foreign yoga students have had their impact not just on the incomes of yoga teachers, but on the local economy as well. In Gokulam, where Jois' centre is situated, house owners who let out single and double apartments are thrilled. "They lead a quiet, disciplined life, and they detest staying in hotels," says Sharada Subbiah, a landlord. You'll hear similar stories in Jayalakshmipuram and Kuvempunagar, other neighbourhoods popular with foreign students.

A vegetarian meal industry has also come up to cater to yoga students—that's where the poha breakfast came from. Shops have come up that rent out motorcycles and bicycles for short durations. And yoga mat manufacturers now boast export accounts. Some yoga students also learn traditional painting, rangoli, music and South Indian cooking in their spare time. There's a formal network of teachers in Mysore to cater to these needs too.

Thakurdas, of the Ashoka Book Centre in Devaraja market, has only words of praise for foreign yoga students. "Their presence is not loud. Their numbers have increased in the last three years. We now keep good titles, even offer discounts," he says. Big hotels here even offer special day rates to yoga students using their swimming pools.

For some yoga, may be an other-worldly experience, but in Mysore, yoga is very much about this world as well. But nobody's complaining, and why would they with the dollars flowing in? Om boom Mysore is the mantra!



O WRETCHED ME

Since I first fell ill last Friday, I've been thinking, "Well, even though this is annoying and prolonged and I'm miserable, at least I'm not throwing up and hating everything about my life." Oops.

This morning I awakened with an even more massive migraine and nausea, and threw up into the toilet and a bucket. I couldn't even keep down water, which reminded me of India and brought me to that awful place where you question every decision you've ever made (particularly the career-related ones -- you know, like choosing a non-traditional path with no benefits, no security, no income and NO SICK LEAVE). Yes, it felt like the end of the world.

Gridlife saved me from myself by setting outside my door some ginger ale, tissues-with-lotion and Vitamin Water. When my dehydrated self finally awakened again at 12:30, it was all I could do to haul the groceries to the kitchen and figure out how to get a can of soda out of the case. I gingerly took a sip of the ginger ale, which miraculously stayed down. So I ate a couple of crackers, which made me feel like vomiting again. I avoided the problem by sleeping and sleeping some more.

At 3PM the head was still pounding hard, and the stomach was massively agitated. At this point at least part of the headache was caused by a lack of caffeine, but the thought of drinking coffee or tea made my stomach toss even more. So, figuring that wide-awake-and-possibly-without-pain would be preferable to tossing-and-turning-with-the-world's-biggest-headache*. I bit the bullet and took an Excedrin Migraine (a legal speedball featuring the holy trinity of Acetaminophen, aspirin and caffeine). It turned out to be my first good decision in many years; by 4PM I could lift my head and even move about a bit without vomiting / wanting to cut off my head / getting lost / falling back down again. Thank Durga for OTC pharmaceuticals.

It also seems that the sore throat has also gone into remission, the sneezing has stopped, the cold sore has shrunk and the snot factory is on strike.



Perhaps I will be able to practice yoga again one day -- possibly even in this lifetime.







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*Now there's a memoir of marital dischord I'd like to read.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006


FACTS ABOUT THE COMMON COLD (OR IS IT THE FLU?)

-There are over one billion colds in the US each year.

-It is a respiratory disease caused by a virus.

-Over 200 viruses can cause the common cold.

-A virus is a disease-producing agent so small that it goes right through very fine filters that stop bacteria

-Kids average six colds a year; adult with kids also get about six, while the rest of us just two or three -- ha!

-Airborne doesn't always prevent them

-The sufferer is most contagious a few days before symptoms appear, and a few days after.

-It usually goes away after seven days.

-Apparently it's easier to catch it via getting sneezed on, not so easy via kissing.

-Complications from the common cold can include bronchitis, pneumonia, ear infection, sinusitis and the infamous cold sore.

-Even people who have a good diet, exercise regularly, get enough sleep and generally lead a healthy lifestyle can catch a nasty-ass cold.

-It is easier to get a substitute teacher / cancel a yoga lesson when the sufferer sounds as sick as they actually feel.

-On Sunday night the sufferer will call a trio of subs for her Monday morning Mysore class. One will say no, and two will not pick up the phone or return her call. The next day one of them will come and take (not take over) the class, leaving said sufferer mildly dumbfounded.

-By the end of the two-hour Mysore class, after taxing herself silly, the sufferer will have learnt that it's easier to teach by giving verbal adjustments while sitting on a fully-inflated exercise ball.

-If the sufferer teaches a class before the symptoms disappear, she will become even sicker and be forced to get subs for her next several classes -- and lose mucho dinero.

-The cat eats more when the owner is home all day and night. It also bites more.

-Tissues treated with lotion are de rigeur

-So are humidifiers

-And fancy, vitamin C-infused juice. And miso soup.

-Cable is a good thing when you're sick. A very good thing indeed.

-While ill the sufferer will watch What Alice Found (awesome), American History X (why is Ed Norton not getting Jude Law's roles?), School of Rock (perfectly mindless), the Hindi classic Sholay (overrated), Emily's Reasons Why Not (an overrated ripoff of the sufferer's own co-script), Jake in Progress (Blackie's getting old), Now Voyager (the story of the sufferer's life with her stepmotha), and Of Human Bondage (the book is better).... not to mention numerous episodes of CSI (yawn) and Law & Order (a good time to nap) -- and be delighted to learn that the caustic writer Fran Lebowitz now guest stars as an arraignment judge on the latter.

-The migraine won't kick in until midway through Sunset Boulevard.



Above image is by quilt artist Pam Rubert

Saturday, January 07, 2006

OUT WITH YE OLDE














India is the new Tuscany

January is the new March

Hey is the new Hi

AM is the new FM

9PM is the new Midnight

Bikram is the new Lilias

Deadwood is the new Sopranos

David Milch is the new David Chase

Altoids* are the new Tic-Tacs

Ribbon Magnets are the new Baby on Board placards

Camouflage is the new Paisley

Coach is the new Steerage

The 2005 Chicago Bears are the new '85 Chicago Bears

Airborne is the new Emer'gen-C

War is the new Peace

Cliff Bars are the new Space Food Sticks

Oligarchy is the new Democracy

DJs are the new Rock Stars

Bronze is the new Tan

Earl is the new Seinfeld

Flip-flops are the new Heels

Bubble Tea is the new Milkshake

Streaked is the new Blonde

Thai is the new Chinese

Courtney Love is the new Bette Midler**

SUV is the new Station Wagon

The Daily Show is the new SNL

Cell Phones are the new Walkie-Talkies

Nextel is the new CB

Backwards is the new Sideways

Iraq is the new Vietnam

Green Day is the new Beach Boys

Three is the new Two***

60 is the new 40

200,000 is the new 100,000

Andre 3000 is the new Prince****

Yoga is the new Aerobics

Blogging is the new Circle Jerk.

Chutney is the new Salsa

Family Guy is the new Simpsons

iPod is the new Walkman

Philadelphia is the new Brooklyn

Bridgeport is the new Wicker Park

The Dalai Lama is the new Maharishi

Blue Man Group is the new Shields and Yarnell / Mummenschanz

The Memoir is the new Novel

Rap is the new Punk

Pamela Lee is the new Dolly Parton

Sangria is the new Mojito

The Interweb is the new Telegraph

Pilates is the new Yoga

Poker is the new Poker

Tibetan Monks are the new Horses*****








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*Altoids contain gelatin, which is made of boiled bones, skin, connective tissue, hooves and other unsavory animal parts. Gelatin is also hidden in Starburst chews, Skittles candies, Lucky Charms cereal, marshmallows, Jello, Kellogg's and Trader Joe's Frosted Mini Wheats, candy corn, and some margarines and nonfat yogurts, among other things.

**When she's not impersonating Nancy Spungen, that is.

***3 = the new 2 when it comes to child-bearing, at least among my set.

****Andre 3000 was voted sexiest male vegetarian, 2004. Both he and Price are vegan. So is that theatrical c*cksucker, Ian McShane! And Pamela Anderson. And Bill Maher, Dennis Kucinich, Alice Walker, Alicia Silverstone, Lindsay Wagner******, Carl Lewis, k.d. lang, Weird Al and many others.

*****Women of a Certain Age seem to flock to and collect these smiling, traveling, oppressed monks with much the same tireless enthusiasm and devotion they once expressed towards those long-limbed equine creatures.

******Not that it aids The Bionic Woman's slumber, if her ads for The Sleep Number Bed are any indication.



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Dear Readers (all two of you):
Feel free to weigh in with your own contributions
-SC

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

TIME AND SPACE




One of the last things I did last year was to redeem a gift certificate that was to expire December 31. It was for a soak at Space Time Tanks -- you know, one of those places with the sensory deprivation pods where it's all womblike 'n' shit; the water is skin-temperature, it's dark, it's quiet and there's so much Epsom salt in the water that you can float on top of it. It seemed 80's new agey, and I was skeptical -- hence waiting until the last minute to go.

The place had several rooms with tanks. Mine smelled like a barnyard (not that there's anything wrong with that). There was a little shower outside where you were supposed to clean yourself off. As I did I fervently wished that those who'd been there before me had done so as well. I chose not to use the earplugs* and checked the water depth -- ten inches.

Then I went in. There was none of that shock you get when you go into a pool. I rolled onto my back and tested the water's buoyancy -- yes, I really could float on top of it. I placed my head in the spot opposite the door, so I'd know where it was. Then I got up and tested the door a few times; it opened. Each time I put my head down, though, I started to worry that I would start to spin and lose the location of the door. When I wasn't worrying about that, I'd think that my head was getting too close to the machinery behind me, and I'd be electrocuted. Well, at least there's no lock on the door. Then I'd worry about someone walking in on me. Then I'd think about the hygiene of the other tank users, and whether the salt would kill whatever diseases they may have had.

At some point I was able to lie back and watch my racing thoughts. Apparently these tank things are conducive to problem solving, meditation, and sleeping** etc. I tried to focus on resolutions, intentions, and things I wanted to happen in my life. And then I'd think about electrocution again, or marvel at my newly-discovered claustrophobia. I'd tell myself to relax, and every time I started to actually do so I'd think, "Wow, it's working!" and then I'd stiffen and the thoughts would start again until the mind quieted and I'd notice and the cycle would repeat itself over and over and over again. At some point I must have drifted off, because the next thing I noticed was someone a-knock knock knocking on my tank.

After some time I knocked back and slowly emerged from the water. The door was right where I thought it was, and when I came out I felt calm, high and clear -- like I did after those early yoga classes, or after a good massage. I did not feel deprived. However, while showering I noticed that something was missing. It took me awhile to realize that nothing hurt. All of my aches, pains and ailments had gone into remission***, and I felt light and happy. The calm feeling lasted for days, and was in full force later on, when I made my way in the rain through heavy traffic to deliver cookies to the mechanic and have him install my new door handle -- only to learn that he'd ordered the wrong part and I'd have to come back yet another f*cking time. I didn't even reach for my gun or take back the cookies or call him a c*cksucker or anything; apparently these tank things really do work.



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*Eschewing the earplugs was not a wise choice, as every time I burped over the next few days I felt the water in my ears and worried that I was getting an infection.

**Apparently sleeping a few minutes in a tank is akin to sleeping for HOURS outside of the womb.

***The pain came back the next day, in full force, while I was practicing primary series. Hmmmmm....

Tuesday, January 03, 2006



HOT DOGS AND FIRECRACKERS*


Guruji is indeed coming to NYC in March!

Many options are there:

Led Primary Classes with Guruji
March 26, 27, 28, 30, 31
two classes daily at 6 and 8am
The Puck Building - 295 Lafayette Street @ Houston, New York City

Mysore Style Classes with Sharath
March 26, 27, 28, 30, 31
one class daily at 4pm
Ashtanga Yoga New York - 430 Broome Street @ Crosby, second floor, New York City

Mysore Style Classes with Saraswati
April 3-7
one class daily at 4pm
Ashtanga Yoga New York - 430 Broome Street @ Crosby, second floor, New York City


To register click here.






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*And $4 chai











photo by Jim York

Monday, January 02, 2006


ALL WAS QUIET ON NEW YEAR'S DAY

After doing five Surya Namaskar A and five Surya Namaskar B and riding my bike downtown and teaching a single class (which only a select few seemed to enjoy) I spent NYD doing a whole lot of nothing -- which included eating Hoppin' John* (for good luck), watching the What Not to Wear Marathon (for good looks) and the The North and South marathon (for good production values) and occasionally popped in to minister to Dorian Black and watch him watch the Monk marathon (ugh) and the Law & Order marathon (as if they needed one) and then eating some more (pasta and Hoppin' John with naan, coffee ice cream with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, etc). I did not make a resolution. I did not take down the Xmas tree. I did not help the homeless. I did not call old friends. I did not work on deadlines. I did not write a word. In fact, I wore a kimono from 1:30 PM on and did not leave the house. I did take a bath, make guacamole, bake cookies, and watch Miss Congeniality -- and for that I should be shot.



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*Hoppin John is black-eyed peas and brown rice topped with scallions, diced tomatoes, melted cheddar cheese and hot sauce. My version has no meat. The idea is that if you eat "poor" on the first of the year, you'll eat "rich" the rest of the year. As if there's more to life than rice and beans.

Monday, December 26, 2005


WARNING! WARNING! CITIZENS OF CHICAGO...

Although 'tis a federal holiday in which banks, post office facilities, schools, libraries, courts, drivers license facilities and even some yoga studios are closed, today is not considered a holiday in the City of Chicago (at least where revenue is concerned). In other words, parking meters must be fed today.






At least one yoga student has already received a personalized orange gift from the city on this, the first day of Kwanzaa.

Sunday, December 25, 2005

HAPPY XMAS






Self-portrait With Cat, Santa and Vertical Line
@ Satya C 2005

Saturday, December 24, 2005


SATYA C'S URINE REVIEW




Last year began with a delivery truck with an honest driver sideswiping my (parked) car and my being awarded $1400, which helped cover 2004’s emergency room, dentist and vet bills -- plus it turned out I didn’t need that root canal right away after all. A grandniece (Lilayna) was born in January; I got a FOID card in February and threw out my back in March. I finally framed that Cydney portrait of my mother, and Blet! finished shooting and editing that sequence from our sit-com, which turned out quite well despite featuring my wooden self in the lead. Now Gridlife and I are procrastinating on a feature length script that Blet! hopes to shoot next year – with real actors. Some of my first-person essays aired on public radio and appeared in Brink.com, plus I wrote a few mini- reviews of Bollywood movies for the Backwards R. I finally got a rather sad website, gained and lost a half-assed book deal (long story), and wrote a stilted chapter for DK’s upcoming eGuide to Chicago (out this spring). But now I’m writing less and teaching more yoga…. and making less. Kirby stopped leaking pee, chased a squirrel into the house and made some informal dung paintings. I practiced yoga in NYC with Pattabhi Jois (who did not seem to recognize me) and visited friends in Boston and Santa Monica (who did not seem to mind me). Last fall I met a man at my best friend’s wedding (he of course is the groom’s best friend) and we will hit the three-month mark on Xmas Day (knock wood). A week ago I finally gave up on my mother’s Geo Prizm and bought my first car – a 92 Honda Civic. From a friend. I sold the Prizm to the repair shop owner, who will make his teenage son drive it this winter as a form of punishment…. which makes me think I’ve been unwittingly punishing myself for the past eight years, and wonder what else I’ve been doing to further the cause. Perhaps I’ll figure it out sometime next year -- which I hope will be a peaceful and productive one for all. In the meantime I'll work on standing up straighter, writing more regularly, chewing food prior to forcing it down the gullet and making vegan, whole-wheat sugar cookies that somehow don't suck.*






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*"How are these cookies supposed to be?" asked the old man via cell phone last night, while on his way to share them with friends over sushi. "How should I explain them?" Oops.**

**Apparently the sushi chefs loved them anyway.






Wednesday, December 21, 2005



DESPEDIRSE A LA FRANCESA*

Since Thursday I've been in the new (used) car vortex, test driving, buying and then having fixed and fixed again and again a '92 Honda Civic that I purchased from a friend (duh) and which needs far more work than the mechanic originally thought (duh) but which only has 84K miles on it plus it came with a complete file of every bit of servicing it's had over its lifetime not to mention a dented hood (where a tree fell on it in New Hampshire) which means I don't have to worry about collision insurance. Plus I managed to sell my old car (91 Geo Prizm) to the auto shop owner, who will make his teenage son drive it this winter as some sort of punishment -- which brings to mind many questions but there's no time to ponder them at the moment as the thing is in shop no. 2 having the frame pulled and straightened (not unlike going to a car-o-practor) and undoing the damage that was done when my friend rearended a cabbie a year and a half ago. At some point I must find the time to go to Mechanic no. 3 to have the windshield re-sealed where T-Wan accidentally penetrated it with a shovel while clearing snow.... and then I may just find a cheap stereo to put in it. And a new antenna, so while stuck in traffic I can hear Amy Goodman and other college radio goodies.

In the meantime the house is a pigsty and I'm way, way, way behind on deadlines [it didn't help that I had to create an entirely new cartoon from scratch; the editor's afraid we'd be sued for the one I just did (see below) -- although *I* think we fly so far below the radar (and I draw so badly) that they'd never know] not to mention Xmas shopping and cards. This year's cards turned out well but I ran out of envelopes tonight and didn't pop out to get more because the car is in the shop and my only transpo is the bike which I normally don't mind but when it's 11PM and the windchill is subzero, well, one opts for bed, bath and blogging rather than the deep freeze of late fall -- even if one does have all the right layers and knows exactly where to wear them.

Tomorrow I'm supposed to take the train to the suburbs for shopping with Dorian Black, after which we'll pick up the car and I'll teach two evening classes. In fact I teach eight classes between now and Xmas. On Thursday I will teach FOUR classes -- a new record for me, if I make it -- including a noontime "vinyasa flow to live music," which I signed up for before I knew what was involved. If I must wear a mic I will die. Suffice to say I'm afraid. Very afraid.









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*In Spain, Despedirse a la Francesa = to leave the French way (i.e.; without saying goodbye).

Friday, December 16, 2005



SPOILER WARNING









Rosebud is a sled







Soylent Green is people







And Oprah, Yoko, James R. Thomson, et al is....







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Dreyfus.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

AYURVEDA FOR IJITS AND DOSHAS FOR DUMMIES






It seems this cartoon may not make it into the (free) mag due to fears over copyright issues. My (and Gridlife's) argument are that 1) The images are not used in a denigrating fashion; 2) No profit is being made from the cartoon (believe you me); 3) It's not being used to promote an event where a profit will be made; 4) The characters are not identified by name; and 5) The images kind of suck anyway. Any intellectual property / entertainment lawyers out there willing to weigh in?

Monday, December 12, 2005

CHAT LUNATIQUE

Push "play" first -- then start reading.

this is an audio post - click to play





Such a sweet, innocent face....one that could model professionally, if only one had trained the thing when one had the chance.







Such a small and mediocre -- albeit lovingly decorated -- spinsta's xmas tree.... full of what some might perceive to be cat toys, ripe for the pickin'.














"Hmmm..."
The seed
has been
planted...














....and yet another half-assed home yoga practice is rudely interrupted by outside events.











Music and lyrics @2001 by Catesey -- aka The Hex
(Yes, he wrote a song for a cat)

Saturday, December 10, 2005



DUST ON THE CRUST

Snow on Chicago Avenue by Kazuo Ooka



I couldn't figure out why the equivant of two space-fuls of snow is piled on the street in front of the apartment building. While having chai with my neighbors today I learnt that the young gent who clears the snow for the landlord dumped it all into the street. Very Chicago. And from an immigrant no less.

The stuff has been melting during the day and then freezing at night, so that in the morning it's dense, icy and dangerous. Now it's snowing again, so there'll be a thin powder on top of the ice which will make for much slippin' and sliding for tonight's many revelers (this seems to be thee big holiday work party weekend).


I also learnt from the neighbors that even native speakers of Malayalam have a hard time understanding what the hell Yesudas is singing.

Thursday, December 08, 2005


'SNOW JOKE:
I told you to stop snowing, er, smoking


We are in the midst of a major snowstorm, which normally wouldn't be a big deal except for that plane skidding off the runway into traffic and killing a child. Sad.

So is the city's punitive new 24/7 parking ban on major arteries, which goes into effect whenever there are two inches or more of snow on the ground. For those not in the know, FIVE HUNDRED MILES of streets fall under this ban -- basically it covers the entire city -- and of course I live on one of them.

So I moved my car to a safe spot (which I will have to shovel out tomorrow morning and then relinquish to my lazy neighbors, because I am not willing to mark it with a crappy old chair in the grand old Chicago tradition of calling "dibs" on my "spot"). Then I trudged my ass to class through the snowstorm.

The first thing I saw during my long winter's trek was a young male professional on a mountain bike, riding in the middle lane of my very busy street. He was dressed entirely in black, including the shorts he was wearing. No helmet of course. I saw him blow through a red light. In the dark. In several inches of snow, with more falling so hard it was going sideways. No wonder motorists hate people on bikes.

The second thing I saw was one of my favourite Windy City winter sights: A fat man with a moustache stepped out of his store and haughtily sprinkled a boatload of salt onto several inches of snow on the sidewalk in front. Why shovel, when you can salt?

Not one bus went by during my entire walk. And only one person showed up for class*.


Besides the snow ban the city has a new smoking ban that starts January 16 and goes into full effect in two-and-a-half years. It covers every indoor space except private homes and clubs, tobacco stores and a quarter of the city's hotel rooms.** Even folks caught smoking within 15 feet of a nonsmoking establishment can be fined a C-note, ouch.

But it's still more expensive to get ticketed and towed in the snow.




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*This is a class which I am giving up as of tonight, because I'm paid by the head and I've tried for two-and-a-half years to get people to come and still no one does. The one student who came tonight was kind enough to give me a lift afterwards. Talk about going out with a bang.

**Which reminds me. Neck Tattoo, whose host likes to smoke in our lovely, carpeted stairway and stink up everyone else's apartment except his own, has reappeared. I saw him getting out of a car the other night, and he saw me too. I did not look away. He also got an eyeful of Dorian Black, who drives a big old pimpmobile and looks kind of imposing from afar.

I'm also somewhat flipped out about this bit of Mysore entrepreneurialism, which somehow it brings to mind the $3 chai from last spring's SKPJ workshop. If only I'd thought of it first.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005



writer's malaise for the holidays

You'd think writing would get easier with experience. After all, I've been a so-called professional journalist for over a decade.

But no.

It seems that every sentence I write is awkward, and each story I write takes longer and longer to do.

Time to quit?

Or dig in harder?






PS
My yoga teaching kind of sucks too.
Not to mention my so-called practice.

Monday, December 05, 2005


¿QUIéN ES MAS MACHO -- PLáSTICO O PAPEL?

I brought not one but TWO canvas shopping bags to Trader Joe's today and still needed more room for all the loot I bought (I'm trying to make fewer trips to the grocery store as part of my own personal Being Green/ahimsa-to-the-earth initiative, which means I'm having to tote a lot more stuff). When the unctuous clerk asked "Paper or plastic?" my mind started to whirl.

Paper or plastic?

Plastic uses less energy to produce, transport and recycle -- plus it can be reused as a vehicle for dog poop. But I have a blog -- not a dog. And it takes between ten and 1,000 years to biodegrade.

On the other hand, paper comes from trees, which is bad. Poor, poor trees. But paper's biodegradable, as long as it's not put in a landfill, which is good. Also the cat sometimes likes to play in the discarded bag. It can also be reused for, say, bundling newspapers or toting Xmas gifts to the family. Plus it's easily recycled.

But apparently they're making a better plastic bag these days -- more biodegradable. Out of corn or something. And Dominick's and The Food Whole offer blue plastic bags, which can be used for recycling via the City of Chicago's half-assed Blue Bag Recycling Program.


No tengo ni puta idea.

I chose paper, which did not impress the cat at all.

Guilt is there, Madam.

(Guilt is *always* there).

If only I hadn't lost that fabulous folding bag-in-a-bag that Dorian Black gave to me, none of this would be an issue.

However I'm writing a(nother) story about being a Green Yogi, and am keen to know which is more PC. But I'm flummoxed. Any ideas?

Sunday, December 04, 2005



'WINE IN YOGA IS AN OXYMORON'
From today's New York Times style section:



December 4, 2005
Yoga Assumes a Social Position
By LAUREN MECHLING

ON a recent Friday night Valentine Remusat om'd and saluted the sun and arched her back in the cobra posture at a yoga class, until she came into final resting pose 90 minutes later, lying on her back in shivasana.

But rather than roll up her mat and head out the door when the teacher brought class to a close, Ms. Remusat, a 30-year-old student at Parsons the New School for Design, spent the next two hours sitting on floor cushions with her fellow yoga students, sampling organic chocolate and Austrian and French red wines.

"It was great that you could stick around afterwards," she said of the Lift Your Spirits event at Yoga Works on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. "The energy completely changed. In class everybody was concentrating, but after that everybody started to speak and laugh. You didn't have to change your clothes immediately or take a cab home."

Yoga studios used to be a place to get away from it all, but these days more yoga centers are doubling as community centers for the stretchy set, offering everything from book parties and knitting circles to organic cooking workshops and cocktail parties. While many students, like Ms. Remusat, are happily taking advantage of the new offerings, others are reluctant to merge yoga with their social lives.

"Wine in a yoga studio is an oxymoron," said Donna Davidge, 50, who has been teaching yoga in Manhattan since 1985. "There's a whole commercialism of yoga, and people are getting away from its roots."

In part the new activities are a natural extension of the social bonding that already takes place in yoga centers. But, those who run studios say that with the number of yoga centers in New York growing so rapidly (248 versus 65 in 2000, according to the online yoga directory yogafinder.com), the chatty extracurriculars are also a necessary way to compete for and retain students.

Rima Rabbath, a former marketer for Colgate-Palmolive who recently became a marketer for Jivamukti, which was founded in 1986 and is now one of the largest yoga centers in the city, said the studio has eight social events a month, double what it offered three years ago. She says yoga studios, are like drugstores now, with one on every corner. "The idea is," she said, "once they come in here, to retain them somehow."

And while studio owners confess that they are using these events in part to drum up business, they are certainly noting a need among their students. Dana Flynn, co-owner of Laughing Lotus Yoga Center in the Flatiron district, said the regular parties they throw for their students, which once drew only 30 people, now average 100. Some, she said, come to a party and decide to try out the yoga afterward.

Socializing is becoming a common reason for starting yoga in general, teachers and students say. Anne-Kerr Kennedy, who designs yoga clothing, said she found New York's nightlife to be "obnoxious" and started to attend yoga classes regularly largely for social reasons. "You go to yoga class, and people want to know who's dating whom," she says. "It's fun to know what the person on the mat is up to."

Satsang, or keeping good company with likeminded people, is a central tenet of yoga, but in some studios it seems to be eclipsing the physical nature of practice altogether. Centerpoint, a new studio on Lafayette Street in Manhattan, has a lounge area where people are encouraged to socialize. A jazz trio performs there weekly, and Sabina Stahl, a Ford model and "ayurvedic-inspired" chef, is on hand every night to serve things like sugar-free chia-seed pudding and pumpkin sage risotto with pomegranate.

"We're trying to blur the lines between coming in and taking a yoga class and other things," said an owner, Raj Singh, who used to work in the cosmetics industry. "It's casual and organic, like inviting friends over to watch TV or something."

For Cyndi Lee, the owner and founder of Om Yoga near Union Square, "your yoga family is really your family." Ms. Lee started a Friday night "Vinyasa and vino" event at a studio in East Hampton, N.Y., and in the winter she hosts a knitting circle at the Manhattan location. "We have wine at that too," she said. "Sometimes the knitting goes astray."

Usually the socializing precedes or follows the yoga, but sometimes there's no yoga at all. The Kula Yoga Project in TriBeCa recently invited its clientele to a Saturday night "epic clothing swap." About 40 women arrived with duffel bags of clothing to trade, but the first hour involved shooting the breeze and sitting on the floor, where snacks and a dozen bottles of wine and champagne were laid out.

Indie rock, courtesy of an iPod, blared from bookshelf speakers. Once the swapping started, some people dug enthusiastically through piles of clothing, while others drank and caught up with one another.

But for every student who enjoys the yoga scene's newfound clubbiness, there are those who are less flexible. For them the last thing yoga should be is another social totem pole.

"You just want to go and relax and instead you end up feeling bad about yourself," said Jessica Risling-Sholl, a 31-year-old dance music publicist, whose most recent yoga experience, at a studio in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, devolved into watching her fellow students hug and kiss and make plans for after-class drinks. "It was the same horrid nervous gut feeling of walking into the middle of the lunch hall not knowing anyone to sit with."

Jessica Metz, a yoga teacher at Hunter College and at Equinox, said that some students at her gym were turned off by the overly forward climate at their yoga studios. "It gets a little bit cliquey," she said. (Ms. Metz explained that since most studios pay teachers based on attendance, the teachers are bound to favor the students who show up regularly.)

Silvia Fernandez, who used to go to classes at Go Yoga, recalled an aggressive group of students who would set up their mats together and hang out to gossip afterward. "They made me feel like an outsider," said Ms. Fernandez, a 40-year-old technical writer. Now she practices either at the New York Sports Club or at home. "There's less likely to be any distraction and anxiety about what's going to happen after the class," she said. "It begins and ends when I want it to."

Some objections are less personal than philosophical. In ashrams, yogis do not eat meat or drink alcohol, and the idea of bringing wine, even if it's organic, into the studio does not sit well with everybody. "These are sacred spaces," said David Kelman, owner of Yoga Sutra in Midtown Manhattan. "That's not cool."

But Schuyler Grant, who owns the Kula Yoga Project, pointed out that separating the meditative components of yoga from the knottier problems that come with forced socializing might not be so easy.

"You go to class together, you get to know each other in a very intimate way," she said. "It's an organic transition to hang out together. If you come with any regularity, you get sucked into the community. You either get into it on that level or you don't stick around. Not to sound culty or anything."



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Friday, December 02, 2005




HOW TO NEUTRALIZE A MELTDOWN



-Journal
-I-Ching
-Get on the bike and go.
-Remember that it's temporary (state of mind)
-Deadwood!
-Make appt. with therapist
-Call a close friend
-Put on talk radio, loud.
-Eat a banana
-Right nostril breathing
-Put on Thich Nhat Hanh's "Anger" CD (ha)
-Clean/straighten the house
-Take some swings at the heavy bag (ha)
-Blog
-Do cognitive distortion exercises from Feeling Good
-Make overdue calls to service people
-Pick up an old project and finish it
-Go for a walk along the lake. In the cold.
-Put on Turner Classic Movies
-Read this
-And this
-Do Target therapy (wrong on a karmic level, but oh-so-effective)
-Yoga
-Yoga
-Yoga
-Mantra
-Mantra
-Mantra




AVOID
Feeding it, by:

--Not eating
--Reading A Million Little Pieces
--Getting in car
--Slamming doors
--Starting a phone-fight
--Starting an IM-fight
--Isolating one's self
--Skipping yoga
--Breaking shit
--Beating self up
--Watching / succombing to infomericals
--Trying, unsuccessfully, to upload pictures onto your blog

Tuesday, November 29, 2005


WHOSE SHOES ARE THESE?*

I subbed a Yoga Basics class this morning at the Fancy Downtown Health Club.

Five minutes into class an elder gent in his 60's walked in, got a mat and put it down in the back. He then proceeded to do the opening stretches while wearing weight lifting gloves, gym shoes and socks. Expensive gym shoes. White socks. More than once I said, "If you're wearing shoes or socks, NOW is the time to take them off." Then I'd look over at him. Nothing. No reaction. I started to become annoyed; Who is this man who shows up late and doesn't listen? Why won't he listen? Is he some CEO who thinks he doesn't have to listen to me? Why I oughta ---

But after (or despite) yesterday's China Syndrome-caliber meltdown I was able to start observing what was going on in my mind (all while teaching, mind you) and I was, like, What the hell -- Why am I taking this personally? Maybe Shoeful Joe hit bad traffic this morning, Maybe he has some awful foot fungus that he doesn't want anyone to see -- Maybe he isn't putting his hand on his thigh because he's DEAF.** And then I got over it. And I decided to let it be, and to not go over and say, "Is there any reason you're still wearing shoes and socks?" (and spreading every possible germ imaginable onto the public sticky mat). Nope, I kept my mouth shut (a new one for me) and observed him do each and every pose while wearing shoes. And I didn't take it personally.

Despite my newfound tolerance, three people picked up their bolsters and blankets and walked out partway through class. Three.

Perhaps they'd simply forgotten, until that moment, that they were late picking up someone at the airport.

Yes, I'm sure that's what it was.





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*DKNY, a bartender-cum-pilates instructor, thinks the chorus of every Hindi movie song sounds like "Whose shoes are these?"

**This is the same club where I once said, when no one was putting their hand on their thigh in Supta Padangusthasana despite my many pleas and admonishments to do so(including one or two in Spanish), "If your hand is not on your thigh, ask yourself why this does not apply to you." Suddenly -- faster than you could say "blatant sense of entitlement" -- ten hands flew onto ten thighs and pressed down, hard.

Monday, November 28, 2005


BOUFFANT ME


My brilliant nephew just installed more RAM and OS X onto my flowered old (2001) iMac. And they said it couldn't be done!

I am actually updating this blog* using said iMac, via Safari, whatever that is....
I guess it's the thing just unexpectedly quit when I tried to download a photo.

Oops.

And the type is really small, too.

Nonetheless I am now living in the present.



Today I also learned that:

-It's not that fun to adjust a Mysore class when you're nauseous.

- Or to practice for that matter.

-You should not impress your meltdown onto someone you're still trying to impress.

-There are very few used Honda Civics for sale on Craig's List this week.

-And the ones that are listed don't call back.

-People brand-new to ashtanga are not always afraid of doing every vinyasa.

And.........


-Fifty-dollar lobster claw bicycle gloves can indeed disappear into thin air.









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*I had to go back and used the evilPC to add photos and bold font.

Now there's a band name: Bold Font.

They could all have bouffant hairdos.

Saturday, November 26, 2005


IT'S TRUE, IT'S TRUE

Guruji will not be stopping in NYC on his March tour.
He will however lead intensives in London and SF.

At least Sri Ganesha Tea Stall Radio is back up and streaming. (They probably wouldda charged $4 for chai next year anyway).

Friday, November 25, 2005

KEEP IT* IN YOUR PANTS

In other words do as I say -- Stay out of the stores today and say no to consumerism.









Don't do as I did* on International Buy Nothing Day (and drop $10 at the Food Whole on comfort food to cook this weekend).

At least I didn't make Sam Walton's heirs any richer today.



Now, if we could only get people behind Say Nothing Day, Do Nothing Day, Do as I Say Not As I Do Day, and Oh Dee Do Da Day.



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*"It" = your wallet

**Actually ever since I heard about Buy Nothing Day back in the last century, I've tried to spend nothing at least one day a week (this week it was Thursday, OK?). It's a somewhat disciplined practice that really makes you think about the way you spend.....

If that doesn't work, try this 1997 list given to shoppers by a Seattle BND group:

-Do I need it?
-How many do I already have?
-How much will I use it?
-How long will it last?
-Could I borrow it from Tommy (ie; a friend or family member)?
-Can I do without it?
-Am I able to clean, lubricate and/or maintain it myself?
-Am I willing to?
-Will I be able to repair it?
-Have I researched it to get the best quality for the best price?
-How will I dispose of it when I'm done using it?
-Are the resources that went into it renewable or non-renewable?
-Is it made or recycled materials, and is it recyclable?
-Is there anything that I already own that I could substitute for it?



Once you've exhausted the list of questions (LUBRICATE it??) you'll be so tired you won't want the thing anymore anyway.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

PILGRIMS AND INDIANS


In Chicago last night a commuter train crashed into some cars:








In Chandrapur, India, other obstacles are there:





And in the US, people dig through the garbage for food not because they're hungry, but to make a political statement.:




And for that we give thanks (!?)

Wednesday, November 23, 2005



Y LOS SUENOS, SUENOS SON:
An Unpleasant New Variation on the Dream in Which the Teacher Loses Control of Class



Last night I dreamt that a gaggle of frat boys from the Brotherhood purpose unit at college came to my yoga class, which was being held out of doors in the winter in the middle of a snowstorm.* I kept my composure. For awhile. We were nearly through the standing poses when they all started yelling and making up their own movements and trying to humiliate me.** The other students stopped listening to me and started staring and them and waited to see what would happen. It escalated to the point where I flipped the bad men the bird and yelled, "Fuck off, frat boys!" Of course some Very Important Teacher saw all of this, and shook their head in disappointment. THAT's when I was humiliated.

Now I understand, implicitly, why The Ayurvedics say it's best to go to bed at 10PM and awaken at 5AM or 6AM -- after which one's dreams can become very, very intense.*** Unfortunately I'm still on the 11 to 7 system.









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*Possibly inspired by last night's snowstorm

**Something very similar to this happened in the dining hall during my senior year at college -- ie, I was the focus of a hazing stunt -- after I wrote something in the paper that the Greeks didn't like. It blew up to the point where 1) I feared for my safety; 2) There was a campus-wide town hall meeting to diffuse the tension; and 3) Some of the worst offenders were taken to "court." Ah, college.

***This of course came after the dream in which I broke down in front of a beloved old editor (who was also unceremoniously let go) and cried and cried and cried about my lost journalism / bookwriting career (and consequent income). When I awakened I felt much, much lighter -- and not just because it had snowed.****

****Snow and cold make a Pitta Girl very, very happy indeed.

Saturday, November 19, 2005







REAL NAMES OF YOGA STUDIOS, PART ONE




So Fun to Do
It’s Yoga!
Every Breath You Take
Yoga With Betty and Friends
All Together Fit
Yes to Yoga
Planting a Seed Yoga
Yoga of the Future
Feel Better Now Yoga
YogaNow
A Studio for Unlimited Ideas
A Walk in the Clouds
And Yoga
All People Yoga Center
All about Yoga
Art & Soul Yoga
Ashtanga Yoga Barn
Arizona on the Rocks
Be As You Are
Om on the Range
Become One
Being Yoga
Bend Don’t Break Yoga
Yogamoms
Holy Cow Yoga & Holistic Center
Bodhassage
Yoga to Go
Bear with Yoga
Hot Body Yoga
Mission Accomplished
Yoga By Design
Yoga for New Yorkers
GuruToYou
A Stretch Apart
Asana 101
Big Yoga
Bliss Happens Yoga
Breathing Room
Can Do Yoga
Casa Shakti
Chapel of the Snows Yoga
Close to the Edge Studio
Easing into Yoga
Effortless Being
Flow Like a River Yoga
Fountain-of-You
Happy Hour
Inhale
Exhale
Just Breathe
Just Plain Yoga
La Vida Yoga
Lighten Up Yoga
Lithe & Easy Yoga
Love is All There Is
Loving Living Yoga
Mama Nirvana’s
Maya* Yoga
Mind + Body = Yoga





AND A BONUS BOOK TITLE:

Yogi Bare: Naked Truth from America's Leading Yoga Teachers



AND A LITTLE SHOP IN FLORIDA:

Oh My Gauze!



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* The Merriam-Webster definition of Maya is: “the sense-world of manifold phenomena held in Vedanta to conceal the unity of absolute being.” Oops!

Friday, November 18, 2005



OPEN SESAME,
OR ANOTHER THING THEY'VE BEEN KEEPING FROM US


This is what I've learned so far at this weekend's Scott Blossom* workshop on ayurveda and hatha yoga:

You can cure insomnia by rubbing sesame oil** into the soles of the feet before bed (it's supposed to be grounding). You should then put on nylon or old socks so the oil doesn't seep all over everything. This last part appears to be a western innovation.

We also learned that the optimum bedtime is 10PM. Which is funny, since we weren't dismissed until 9:45.



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*Scott Blossom is a new-ish Bay Area teacher who's studied with Dr. Robert Svoboda and Shandor Remete, which means we'll probably be doing a slow-moving martial-artsy type practice tomorrow.

**Perhaps it's best to get a big bottle of sesame oil; I've known for some time that the cure for winter's bloody boogers is to line the nostrils with a thin coat of sesame oil; heaven!

**Or go Costco; the cure for dry winter skin is to slather the body in sesame oil and then take a bath or shower (using an old towel to dry off of course). It's also meant to be quite calming. No soap is used except on one's stinky bits -- armpits, feet and genitals.