THANK HEAVEN FOR THE HOMELESS



The car got stuck in the yoga studio lot at 6:25 this morning.

I was shoveling when a pair of homeless men appeared like angels, and offered to help.


"I'm homeless, not uselss!" exclaimed the 53-year-old African-American man, as he heaved with all his might.



The same cannot be said of the able-bodied young man who walked across the parking lot amid all of the spinning and striving, and walked back a few minutes later holding a giant cup of coffee. He did not stop to help.

Later I realized I knew this coffee-toting fellow - and called him on it.

"You walked by without helping!"

The white, thirtysomething fellow pleaded ignorance.

"I was in my head, I guess."

Sadly, he does not practice yoga - where the goal is to get out of the head, and into the heart.








The homeless fellows got it right, though.

They knew to help when they saw someone struggling....

Although they didn't want the homemade organic vegan cookies I offered (who could blame them?).

They did take a ten-spot though.

A small price to pay, for making my day. My week. My year.

And more impetus for making the annual contribution to the Chicago Coalition for the Homeless.









----------------------------------------------------------------------

Photos snapped this morning, during the rain.

BATTERED






That is how we are feeling in Chicago after three snowstorms, an ice storm and two days of -30 windchill -- all within eight days, right before Christmas.

We expect this in January, spread out over four or five weeks. But not in December.

So we are tired. Not as tired as the Germans after World War II - as rivetingly depicted in the film I just watched, Germany: Year Zero. But still quite tired.

During the first snow storm, it took people four hours to get home from the city. Four hours!

During yesterday's storm, it took a full hour to get from a teaching gig in Oak Park to a downtown yoga studio - a drive that usually takes 15-20 minutes.

People are tired of it.

They are walking around hunched over, their mouths shaped like mail-slots.

It's time time to finish Christmas shopping, but they're just not up to it.

No one wants to go out if they have a good parking space. (The snow was incredibly heavy when it was time to shovel. If people didn't do it that afternoon, it was frozen solid and immovable the following morning. In fact, some cars were literally frozen into place when the deep freeze took hold. Instead, most people took their chances, gunning the tires, and didn't bother to shovel. The result is that the side streets are filled with hazardous grooves; you don't want to park there. And there only a few good parking spaces on the main arteries. They aren't safe, either. You risk being towed from these main arteries if the snow on the street is deeper than two inches - which it has been quite often of late).


You see a lot of cars parked at jaunty angles; it seems the driver got into the spot partway, and then gave up. Better to let the thing get hit than to risk frostbite trying to dig it out.

The most common sound you hear these days is wheels spinning, as cars attempt to extricate themselves from parking spaces.

You also see a lot of seemingly able-bodied people walking past these spinning wheels, and refusing to help.

The air is heavy with the smell of road salt and burning rubber.

We are also early with ice-related injuries this year. I know one fellow who broke a rib after a fall, and a student knows someone else who did the exact same thing.

And we're just two days into winter.....





One can't help but ask, what did Chicago do to deserve this battering?

Any ideas?


I have two:

-stockyards

-corrupt politicians




A better question might be - why do we live here?




-------------------------------------------------

Lest you think it's over....the forecast for Wednesday morning is freezing rain (and flooding), followed by blowing and drifting snow in the afternoon.


Photos above were snapped well before the current snowed-in condition of the city.

TOO COLD TO FAST





Normally on Mondays I do a fruit fast; watermelon in the warm weather, and pineapple / oranges in the winter.

But not when the windchill is -30, as it has been yesterday and today.


It's so cold, the chimney smoke is blowing horizontal....


It's so cold, I've unearthed the long underwear, snowmobile gloves, down jacket and Sorel boots.

It's so cold, the city is taking old people and their pets to warming centers.


It's so cold, even the style-conscious Dorian Black wore a hat yesterday.

It's so cold, no one is coming to class (yesterday there was exactly one student at the 10am class - and the hardy fellow jogged there!).






So instead of fruit-only, I'll try instead for a a day of liquids; of fresh juice, Dharma's breakfast blend (sprouted raw almonds, banana, and apple cider) and soup.



* * *



Apparently it is also too cold to shop today.

The post office was nearly empty.


There was a parking place right in front of the store I grudgingly had to visit at the busy Clark / Diversey shopping area.


(Somehow, though, it's not too cold to urinate al fresco)





And there was exactly one other customer at Old Navy, where I was obliged to purchase a gift card.

There was even rock star parking in front of the Middle Eastern Bakery in Andersonville.




If only it hadn't been necessary to scrape ice off the insides of the windows each and every time I got into the car.....

FROM DARKNESS INTO LIGHT




This - the shortest day of the year - is a good time in which to remember this mantra from the Upanishads:


Om Asato ma sat gamaya
Tamaso ma jyotir gamaya
Mrityor ma amritam gamaya
Om Shanti Shanti Shantihi

Lead us from the unreal to the real
Lead us from darkness to light
Lead us from death to immortality
May there be Peace Peace Peace

(Brhadaranyaka Upanishad — I.iii.28)


This is the mantra that Mysore teacher Sheshadri (and his guru, BNS Iyengar) chants so beautifully with students before the asana practice. It's easy to learn, and may make you feel better than chanting, say, AC/DC's "Let There Be Rock." Not that there's anything wrong with that.

BUYING LOCAL





Now that I'm thrice a great aunt, I must do a bit of shopping for the holidays (most of the rest of the family does a not-so-secret Santa; on Thanksgiving everyone puts their wish list (not to exceed $50) in a hat, and pulls a name; we also do a white elephant gift exchange, which is usually results in great hilarity).

I prefer gifts that are simple, educational, and not made of plastic. This year I bought a couple of Christmas gifts in Mexico, but did not get a chance to pick up the thing that most piqued my interest - colorful nontoxic Caribbean puzzles made of reclaimed wood. The tiny kiosk was always closed when our endless dinners of green juice and soup finally ended.

Back home I've been trying to shop as locally as possible, in order to support small businesses and people I know (and who support me!). The other day I picked up some wonderfully offbeat children's books by local author and avid ashtangi Amy Krouse Rosenthal. I bought them at the local feminist bookstore, Women & Children First. Happily, the independent store was filled with shoppers - even though we were in the middle of Tuesday's paralyzing snow storm (which is not to be confused with today's paralyzing snow storm).

Yesterday I found some sturdy and creative items at Majamas in Oak Park - a store featuring women's clothes that are designed in-house and manufactured in Chicago and Pennsylvania. It's located next to Yoga Trek Center and owned by another lovely ashtangi - who, incidentally, has designed the most comfortable and versatile yoga pants I have ever worn. She also carries a few select children's toys and clothing that her own kids have enjoyed, and steered me towards some things for the girls - who are two months, two and four.

Next on the list is candles from Wax Man, which makes everything on-site and is across from the Chicago Yoga Center.

If there's anything left,* I may also may get a thing or two at ashtangi-owned green gift store It's a Cooler Planet in Roscoe Village.

It's a long-shot, but perhaps they carry environmentally-friendly, locally-made reed diffuser sets - which are also on the list....


Where are you shopping this year?




-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Another Chicago-centric item I love, but don't need to purchase at the moment is the Bra Baby - which was invented by yet another local ashtangi and Dharma Mittra yoga enthusiast (and old friend), Laura Engel. It's a little cage-within-a-cage that allows you to throw your bras in the washing machine without worrying they'll lose their shape. Each one comes with a handy breast self-exam card to hang in the shower.

FIRE AND ICE





Mexico was amazing.

Can you say "Six days with Dharma Mittra?"

Six days with Dharma Mittra in the jungle, that is.

Usually, you see him in the rajasic (active) jungle that is New York City.

But this time he was in a sattvic (pure, peaceful) environment called Otam. It's a wonderful green shala in an eco-friendly community called Pueblo Sac Be in the middle of the jungle. Everything on the premises was made without machines. We practiced in a palapa - an open-sided structure with a thatched roof made of dried, woven palm tree leaves.









And when you looked up you saw this:






The intensive reviewed and built upon everything we learned in the teacher trainings: pranayama, the koshas, the yamas (ethical roots), concentration and meditation, purification and psychic development, the gunas, the Bhagavad-Gita and so much more. Plus there were Dharma's mind-blowing asana sequences and countless opportunities to do forearm balances.

It was Dharma in the morning, and Dharma in the evening. In candlelight.

I think he deepened the spiritual practice of everyone who was there (and some even began to see the Self within the self).





* * *


I roomed with three wonderful women in a hotel rustico in town. The shala was 8km away from the beach, in a lush jungle dotted with cenotes (fresh water sink-holes).



In the community's common space there's an amphitheater, bathrooms, buildings, cenotes and whatnot:











* * *


On our first night in town we tried to find a market where we could buy fruit (on two evenings we ate watermelon on our balcony, while bats pretended to dive-bomb us). Everyone pointed in the same direction, and said "Wal-Mart." We thought they were joking... until we got to the end of the street. It was the land of rajas (activity), but we had to do it.

The following day we found Maru's organic place, and on the way we saw this arco, or rainbow:




On Friday - the day of the Virgen de Guadalupe Festival - we saw a rainbow around the moon:




Later I learned from Torsten that it means cold weather is coming.


* * *



In town you would also come across curiosities like this:



* * *

Our chartered bus was rather festive. This wheel detail is for tire magnate Dreyfus of course.






* * *


I only went once to the beach, which was more than enough. A mi no me gusta mucho a la playa.












* * *


I spent three afternoons in the jungle instead of going back to town between sessions. One of them was spent engaged with people - the two other yogis who opted to stay and the owners of Otam, Maru and Torsten. They built the whole place by hand, from nothing, and it's all eco-friendly, from the dry toilets (where you cover your waste with sand, like a cat, and it's later used as compost) to the solar power used to light the evening yoga class. (Their lively dogs, by the way, are named Frida and Max).

After an involved tea ceremony with a man from Russia, we made our way to the top of the tower where Torsten lives. There were solar panels and breath-taking views of the jungle, etc.














* * *

On another afternoon in the jungle, I breathed and meditated and rested. Dharma says that spending one day in contemplation is greater than bathing 1,000 times in the holy Ganges River.

In the middle of the contemplation, the eyes became distracted by some movement on the ground.

There was a line of vertical leaves, moving from left to right.

Upon close inspection, I saw that they were being carried by tiny worker ants a fraction of their size.

They were marching steadfastly towards some goal, which was far, far away (and which I could not discern).

Never once did the ants stop and rest.

There were many obstacles in their path, including a hill of debris.

They went over it, without slowing down.

They did not seem to worry that the end was not in sight.

And whenever they eventually dropped off what they were carrying, they took the same long road back to point A, to pick up another load.

On the return trip, they did not dawdle or stop to commiserate with their fellow ants.

I could not imagine those ants complaining about the bus ride to the shala....

Or giving up after 14 breaths in forearm balance.

I learned a lot from those ants.





* * *



EPILOGUE

After studying my passport, the Customs agent in Charlotte asked me how long I'd been gone. "Six days," I said. "Then you don't know yet about your governor," he said, and proceeded to tell me about Blago's alleged attempt to sell Obama's senate seat. (It's pronounced "Bluh-GOY-a-vich," by the way). Welcome to America.

And on the way home from the airport late last night, the rain began to freeze and turn to sleet. The temperature plummeted as the night wore on, yet still the sleet/whatever came down. This morning the world was covered with ice - including the car I drive. I tried to open the door and it was frozen shut.

I eventually got it open and scraped off most of the ice before making my way to teach.

I had to make all left turns to get there, as I could not see out the right windows.

The side streets were unusually slick, and I nearly slid into several cars. Several times.

Later I learned that in order to save money, the City of Chicago is not salting side streets this year. (Apparently paying off lawsuits is cheaper than road salt)

Yet I bet they still have funds to lure the Olympics here.

Bienvenidos a la selva indeed....

VAMOS A LA PLAYA

I´m in Mexico taking a workshop with Dharma Mittra.

Detailles to come.

In the meantime, here´s an excerpt from his Mentor column for teachers in Yoga Journal....

The highest type of all charities and dharma (duty) is the sharing of spiritual knowledge. If you are teaching asanas, pranayamas, and meditation without a foundation in the ethical disciplines, such as the yamas (moral commandments), niyamas (rules of conduct or observances), and self-knowledge, it will eventually become boring for both you and your students.

To keep this from happening, it is of utmost importance that you continue your own growth in practice and strive to purify your mind. Evoke sattvic, or pure, thoughts and aim to cleanse the gross physical body and the subtle astral body (the body of consciousness and thought) of toxics. Also helpful in inducing a state of sattva is following a light, healthy vegetarian diet. You will immediately feel better and more inspired. And of utmost importance is the practice of right conduct toward oneself and toward others, through living according to the yamas and niyamas.

Ultimately, sattva comes from knowledge of the self, which you can achieve by understanding karma and reincarnation, relinquishing the ego, and letting go of attachments. When one is in this state there is no feeling of emptiness or boredom. Remember, though, that the mental knowledge of these things is not enough. You must also practice silent meditation regularly to become calm and peaceful in order to personally realize that knowledge. The goal of yoga is knowledge, specifically knowledge that leads to self-realization established in sattva, or a state of bliss. Once you are firmly established in sattva, you will be able to share your spiritual experience and encourage your students to seek enlightenment as well.


Read more here.

NO SLEEP TIL MYSORE, VOLUME FIVE







The first installment of my 2008 Mysore Diary is now online.

Read it here.

DEPRESSION-TIME RENT HIKE




What to do when The Man jacks up the rent another $110 per month?

(This is on top of April's $100-per-month raise, which comes to a $2500 or 40 percent annual increase this year).

The Bhagavad Gita says that a yogi regards equally a piece of gold or a stone.

“To the illumined man or woman, a clod of dirt, a stone, and gold are the same.”

This would appear to be a stone.

At first glance, anyway.




Of course the DK's had a completely different take on things.

WEEKEND WRAPUP





Thanksgiving in 815 was lovely, although the back hurt like hell.

The afternoon of eating (which included lasagna for Mrs. Dreyfus and I) ended with a brisk walk around the block.

Other highlights:

The three-year-old walked into the kitchen, lugging a giant coffee table book called "Wine." She could barely carry the thing, which she presented to the long-haired grandmother.

"Read this to me!" she demanded.




On Friday, Mr. and Mrs. Dreyfus and I took a quick drive into town for gas and lottery tickets, and then hightailed it back home (the photo above was taken during the drive).

Later we watched the classic 1951 Hindi film Awara, starring Prithviraj Kapoor and his son Raj, who directed and produced the film. (The venerable family of actors spans five generations and can be compared to the Barrymores, minus the current offering).

The film was riveting from the start and is a must-see.



But we were all tired, and Dreyfus soon fell asleep - only to awaken some burning questions:


"What's with all this crappy dancing and shit?"

and then:

"You mean they do this for three whole hours?"



In the end, he loved the film, too.



* * *


Later I had the pleasure of meeting the newest member of the Dreyfus family, Madelyn MacKenzie, and visited with her older sister - who is rapidly approaching the age of two.



* * *



On the way home Friday night I stopped at the Gateway Theatre to see Rahat Fateh Ali Khan. It was 9:30PM - an hour into the show and already past my bedtime. I scored a $75 seat for $55 and found myself eight rows from the stage. Rahat and party were in the middle of a set of light ballads. I waited it out - despite the fact that they were overamplified and the audience was overperfurmed. It paid off; after about 45 minutes they did some amazing qawwali music, and it was wonderful. The concert was still going strong when I left at midnight.



* * *

Last night TR and I dined at Klay Oven and then went to see an all Indian / Sri Lankan version of A Midsummer Night's Dream, which was performed in eight languages (Tamil, Malayalam, Sinhalese, Hindi, Bengali, Marathi, Sanskrit and English) and directed by Tim Supple. There was music. There was dancing. There were acrobatics and martial arts. Puck was the best one I've seen. There was even an encore. (And while watching the play, I realized that the way the fairies play with the mortals (and the way in which the mortals are enslaved by their emotions) is similar to the concept of Lila, or God's play). It runs through Sunday at the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre; more info here.

"IF THE REST OF THE WORLD WANTS TO HELP [MUMBAI*],
IT SHOULD RUN TOWARD THE EXPLOSION"




--from Suketu Mehta in today's New York Times, in which he also says:

In other cities, if there’s an explosion, people run away from it. In Mumbai, people run toward it — to help.....

In the Bombay I grew up in, your religion was a personal eccentricity, like a hairstyle. In my school, you were denominated by which cricketer or Bollywood star you worshiped, not which prophet. In today’s Mumbai, things have changed. Hindu and Muslim demagogues want the mobs to come out again in the streets, and slaughter one another in the name of God. They want India and Pakistan to go to war. They want Indian Muslims to be expelled. They want India to get out of Kashmir. They want mosques torn down. They want temples bombed.....

In 1993, Hindu mobs burned people alive in the streets — for the crime of being Muslim in Mumbai. Now these young Muslim men murdered people in front of their families — for the crime of visiting Mumbai. They attacked the luxury businessmen’s hotels. They attacked the open-air Cafe Leopold, where backpackers of the world refresh themselves with cheap beer out of three-foot-high towers before heading out into India. Their drunken revelry, their shameless flirting, must have offended the righteous believers in the jihad. They attacked the train station everyone calls V.T., the terminus for runaways and dreamers from all across India. And in the attack on the Chabad house, for the first time ever, it became dangerous to be Jewish in India.

The terrorists’ message was clear: Stay away from Mumbai or you will get killed. Cricket matches with visiting English and Australian teams have been shelved. Japanese and Western companies have closed their Mumbai offices and prohibited their employees from visiting the city. Tour groups are canceling long-planned trips.

But the best answer to the terrorists is to dream bigger, make even more money, and visit Mumbai more than ever....


Read the rest of Suketu's op-ed piece here.

Read Amitabh Bachchan's blog post about the attack here.




---------------------------------------------------------------------------

*It's interesting that Suketu is now calling it Mumbai (not Bombay) - a name that, according his book, was pushed by Hindu hard-liners - although on second thought it's probably just correct New York Times style/usage.

BIG SHOW FRIDAY: RAHAT FATEH ALI KHAN IN CHICAGO




The great Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's nephew / protégé / disciple and handpicked successor will perform at the Gateway Theater this Friday at 8:30.

Bindi and I caught Rahat Fateh Ali Khan and his party (band) at the Mystical Journey concert in March, and it was transformational.

He is known for Qawwali, the devotional music of the Sufis, or mystical Muslims. The singing puts the performers into a trance, and they feel that they are one with God - which is also the goal of all yogis.

It is a type of bhakti yoga - the yoga of devotion.

They are also journeyman musicians, singing ghazals and ballads to movie audiences.

And occasionally they collaborate with Western musicians like Eddie Vedder, as in this Dead Man Walking concert for Murder Victims' Families for Reconciliation. Watch Rahat steal the show four minutes in.

This video may also help you feel better about the tragic events in Mumbai.




If anyone wants to go to the concert, please call or e-mail!

Details here.

PANIC IN MUMBAI

At least 100 people have died so far in last night's attacks in South Bombay, where gunmen wielding arms and grenades attacked several sites, including a police station, a movie theatre, an airport, hospitals, a dockyard, two train stations and two luxury hotels. As I write this they're still holding hostages at the hotels and a hospital.

Apparently they're targeting Britons and Americans.

They also killed India's top terrorism official.

The famous Taj Hotel is in flames.

This AP report (which we don't put much stock in, since it mistakenly states that there has been very little Hindu-Muslim violence in India since independence in 1947. Apparently they've not heard of the million people who died in the bloodbath called Partition and the many smaller flareups since):

A British restaurant-goer at the Oberoi told Sky News television that the attackers were singling out Britons and Americans.

Alex Chamberlain said a gunman, a young man of 22 or 23, ushered 30 or 40 people from the restaurant into a stairway and ordered everyone to put up their hands.

"They were talking about British and Americans specifically. There was an Italian guy, who, you know, they said: 'Where are you from?" and he said he's from Italy and they said 'fine' and they left him alone. And I thought: 'Fine, they're going to shoot me if they ask me anything — and thank God they didn't," he said.



Apparently this group has claimed responsibility.

Let's pray that a backlash reaction to such violence is avoided (ie; mobs form and kill innocent people in retaliation).

For the latest, go here.

OUT IN 815



On Saturday I led a Dharma Mittra workshop at a yoga studio in Sycamore.

The students were lovely.

So was the drive out to the 815 area code.

Gas was cheaper than I've seen it in eons.



So afterwards I drove out to see Mr. and Mrs. Dreyfus.

On the way I passed a place that sold raw, local honey.

I'm crazy about the local honey; I try to eat some every day (either in the morning hot water with lemon or on peanut butter Ezekiel toast). It's supposed to help control pollen allergies. But usually I have to buy it at the Food Whole - which used to get it from a local fellow who stocked the shelves with his own honey. It was nice to speak to him about his bees. But they dropped his brand about a year ago. All they have now is Some Honey from somewhere in Wisconsin. So it was a treat to buy honey that was truly local, from the beekeeper himself.




I also adore hand-painted signs. So when I saw this, I immediately turned around and pulled into the driveway.

After parking, I went up to the fridge in front of the barn, and opened the door.



Inside was a another sign, telling me to knock on the back door of the farmhouse.

I walked over.

There were kittens sunning themselves on the porch.

I was petting them when the man opened the door.

I was so excited about the honey.

"I was driving by and saw the sign," I said. "I'm from Chicago--..."

"I'm sorry," said the man, without missing a beat.

At that I wanted to hug him.

I asked him where the bees were, and he pointed out back to some tall, round, white structures.

"They're hibernating now," he said.

I took home a lot of honey that day.

No goats or chickens or brown eggs, though.

No kittens, either.

TUNAK TUNAK TUN:
HA. HA. HA.





Very few things in the world can elicit a belly laugh from me.

This is one of them.





To enjoy it properly you must:

1. Love this music

2. Read the "translation."





------------------------------------


GLOSSARY

Ferengi = foreigner (as in, westerner or White Devil)

From Wikipedia:
'"Ferengi" and similar terms are Arabic names for European traders, or for Westerners in general. Both the Arabic word and the name are similarly pronounced [fɛˈrɪŋɡi]. The name is likely derived from the Arabic word faranj or ifranj, "Franks", or possibly the Persian word farangi, meaning "foreigner". In Ethiopia, ferenj or ferenji has the same meaning. The Greeks sometimes use fra[n]gkoi (φράγκοι) as a mild slur against western Europeans. The term was used as a partially derogatory term in India to denote the British.'






------------------------------------




Here's the song with the "real" lyrics:







Here's the "Caucasian-ish" version:




And the equally wrong "U.S." version:





Plus the Teletubbies version:







To learn to bhangra dance, watch this. Warning: it's much harder than it looks:

JAI HIND!



For years we've been hearing about Somalian pirates hijacking vessels traveling around the Horn of Africa.

(Yes, this is happening now, in the 2000's).

The ship-seizing has only increased over the years, and an estimated $100 million has already been paid in ransoms for seized goods and crew this year.

Many countries (not to mention NATO) have sent ships to police these busy shipping lanes - which are known as the world's most dangerous waters.

But the ships have had no effect on the pirates, who keep taking all the booty they want.

Over the weekend, pirates seized a Saudi oil supertanker that is now being held for ransom in Somalia

Soon after, pirates hijacked a Greek ship and a Thai fishing boat.

The news has been all bad - until Tuesday night.

That's when an Indian warship, the INS Tabar, sank a pirate ship in the Gulf of Aden and chased away two others.*

An Indian ship! Not an E.U. ship or a NATO ship or a US ship.

Apparently the Russian-built INS Tabar also freed a Saudi chemical tanker last week.

जय िंहद !








----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*The idea of Ahimsa or non-harming is important for yogis to follow. But warriors have another dharma (duty). According to the Bhagavad Gita it is extremely important to follow one's dharma. For example, if you are a warrior and the war is just, you must go to battle and not worry about the outcome (since it's not in your hands).


** The video features some of India's greatest performers and athletes, from a variety of religious, ethnic and musical traditions - including Yesudas, Pandit Jasraj, Zakir Hussein, Javed Akhtar, Sonu Nigam, Alka Yagnik, Shankar Mahadevan, and Jagjit Singh.

SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE



HalfPint and I went to see Slumdog Millionaire yesterday.

The fast-paced film, about a poor Muslim boy who grows up in Bombay's slums and winds up on the Indian game show Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, has everything - love, violence, music, dance, betrayal, and a hopeful message. It also features a fabulous score by famed Tamil composer A.R. Rahman.

The film is populated with characters who could have come straight out of Suketu Mehta's 2005 book Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found. There were gangs of white-wearing hardline Hindu thugs, Bombay gangsters, crooked police inspector-cum-torturers, and pimps whose stable consists solely of beggar children.

The plot was gripping.


I recognized the lead actor, Dev. Patel, because he's on the only TV show I watch with any regularlity - the British TV series Skins. Plus there were virtual appearances by India's most famous actor, Amitabh Bachchan - who used to host the game show (and whose blog is one of my favorites).

Among other treats, there's a scene where the gangsters dance to a song from the gangster movie Don, plus there's a big Bollywood dance production during the credits. And many scenes were set in one of my favorite places in the world - the Indian railway.

The film also dealt with issues straight out of the Bhagavad Gita, such as the notion of fate, and the fact that we are not the doer.

Near the end, the smarmy game show host (played by a spot-on Anil Kapoor) suggested that the young protagonist's apparent interest in women and money would be his downfall.

The line is straight from the teachings of the great yogi Sri Ramakrishna, who always told his devotees that "women" and "gold" (lust and greed) are the greatest obstacles to spiritual development (because they create attachment to the material world).

Go see the film.


Or at least see the trailer:

GOOD KARMA


My journalism mentor, former Sun-Times TV/radio columnist Robert Feder, did his first TV appearance EVER tonight on WTTW-Channel 11's "Friday Night."

Despite many offers, not once during his 28 years critiquing local media for the Chicago Sun-Times did he appear on TV or radio. A journalist with actual integrity, he considered it a conflict of interest to appear on the media he was paid to cover. As he put it in tonight's interview, it would be akin to Sun-Times drama critic Hedy Weiss getting onstage to perform in a play - and then critiquing it.

Rob never accepted gifts or a single free meal - unheard of for a reporter in this town.

And although interviewer John Calloway tried to goad him into criticizing his contemporaries for taking freebies and appearing on the air, Rob wasn't having it. He simply said that he made the choices that were appropriate for him.

He came off as articulate, kind, charming, humble, honest, forthright, funny, and fearless, not to mention full of fortitude and steeped in sattva - which are all the qualities of a great yogi.

How fortunate I've been to be guided by him.





You can hear the entire interview here.

BYE-BYE, CACA




The colonic wasn't that bad.

For starters, the colonic hydrotherapist had pleasant bedside manner. He had clear, shiny eyes and a kind demeanor. Plus his voice had the same timbre and cadence as the filmmaker I used to work for, so he seemed familiar.

And since he's studying to be a nutritionist, he knew all about input as well as output.

The Eternal Om soundtrack helped, too.

"I know all the words," I joked.

First, I used the toilet.

Then we talked about why I was there (constipation and consuming convenience food and meat for two decades before going veg in 1987) as well as what to expect (the feeling of having to poop, which I was to "just feel" and not give in to).

I was told to disrobe from the waist down, although my striped knee socks could stay.

Then I got on my back, under a towel, and called him in.

He explained everything as it happened. I turned on my side, and he inserted the tube into the sphincta. It was a lot bigger than I thought it would be, but not too awful.

Then I returned to my back, with the knees propped up, and he talked while removing the gas.

He was quite funny, and I laughed several times.

Then he started letting in the water.

This was not pleasant - to feel the bowels fill with water, and to have the urgent need to fart and repress it.

After a short period, he started letting out the water and fecal matter - which was a relief.

Then more water came in - unpleasant again - and then he let it out.

In the beginning, there was a lot of yellow bile leaving the body.

"Does this mean I'll become a nicer person?" I asked.

It's possible, he said.

Each time the water came in, it went up a little bit higher in the abdomen.

Occasionally, he would massage the belly.

The entire procedure lasted about 45 minutes.

The worst part was feeling the blockages when the water was going in. It was somewhat emotional, and also reminded me of the gastric distress I experience after eating at a certain raw food restaurant. But then the water would move on, and it would be OK.

It was pleasant to hear him exclaim when a block was removed - and also to learn that I have correct mula bandha.

It was also pleasant to hear that the colon is in good shape due to proper diet; the gentleman recommended that I come for three appointments spaced two weeks apart, rather than six in six weeks.

And it was actually *fun* watching the fast-moving conga line of matter flowing through the tube. Rather festive, to be honest.

Afterwords he had me sit on the toilet, to get rid of any remaining water.

When I walked out, I felt light. The vision was clear. There was more energy and less urge to procrastinate.

I feel like I left something behind....

Which is a very good feeling indeed.




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Photo shows this morning's rather spectacular sunrise, as viewed from Lake Shore Drive. (On the way home seven hours later, there was a rather spectacular car fire).

THE REWARDS OF LETTING GO








After an impressive start, The Great Cleanse of '08 (in which the Author gets rid of Things she doesn't need) slowed down til it nearly came to a complete halt.

That is, until Friday - when Jammu and Baby Sachi came to the rescue.

Jammu brought big, thick, black contractor's bags with her - massive plastic bags that look like garbage bags but don't break. "Black is good, because you can't look at the things you're getting rid of, and change your mind," she said.

After a mediocre Indian meal prepared by me, Jammu inspired me to go through things while Sachi sat in Upavisa Konasana on the cotton yoga mat and played with a stuffed toy called Neal (from the movie Neal 'n' Nikki).

We started by going through books. There are 18 shelves of books in the apartment. We slogged through three tiers of writing books, critically acclaimed 20th century novels and hipster literature (think Patti Smith, bell hooks, Lydia Lunch, Lester Bangs, et al)

Jammu helped me decide which ones to keep and which ones to toss. We wore dust masks, since they were so dusty and musty. The books were like dear old friends that represented different parts of the past - which made the mind resistant and indecisive.

Yet Jammu was infinitely patient.

And she knew which ones were worth money.

She told me to bring the massive box and smaller box of discards to Myopic Books, and try to sell them. This was a new idea for me; usually I just leave things at The Ark thrift store.

Then we started going through the jacket and coat collection.

She had me try on each and every one, and gave me her honest opinion.

Again, she knew which ones were worth money.

"Take those to the resale shops on Milwaukee Avenue," near Myopic Books, she said. "Whatever's left you can bring to the Brown Elephant" (a nearby thrift store).

We also dealt with the yoga mat collection (I got rid of the one the cat had secretly been using as a scratching post), the phone collection (shedding all but the one Dreyfus can sell on eBay) and Gorgeous George, a giant stuffed minkey that had belonged to my mother.




We ended up with two contractor's bags full of jackets, phones and other items.

Later, I went through a few more areas, and added biking shoes, never-worn Gore-Tex hiking boots and other items from the discard pile in the hall closet.

They made a large pile, and I wanted them out of the house ASAP.


* * *


Saturday was the first really cold, sleety day this year. Chicagoans take awhile to adjust to weather changes, and tend to stay inside until they do. So when I learned that I'd been bumped from my 10:15 massage appointment, I thought "Today's the day." I filled the car with stuff and drove to Wicker Park.

I found parking across from Myopic Books - a rare thing indeed - and brought in my boxes of tomes.

The handsome young gent behind the counter wanted many of the books, and I ended up with $65 ($20 of which was immediately blown on three new books: Meditation for Dummies, David Frawley's Arise Arjuna and Gita Mehta's Karma Kola). I decided to hold on to a rare Billy Childish book worth $50 or more.

I put the remaining books in the car, and dragged the giant Santa bag of jackets and whatnot to three thrift stores.

(Note to single women: the handsome hipster boys can be found near North/Milwaukee/Damen on Saturdays around 12PM)


Jammu was right; capes are in this year. A black cape from college and my mother's striped winter scarf fetched $10.50 in store credit at Crossroads, where I picked up a long-sleeved teal t-shirt for just $5.

As Jammu had predicted, Lenny & Me took the 1970's green leather jacket (they gave me $14 - not bad, considering that I paid $15 for it 15 years ago and had gotten a lot of use out of it - or a quarter of what they'd sell it for).

I made $27.48 at Buffalo Exchange, which took the Gore-Tex hiking boots and four jackets (including a rarely-worn wax-covered rain jacket from Scotland and a mod black patent pleather jacket purchased at a thrift store in Wisconsin for $2.50).

Since The Ark is closed on Saturdays and I have issues with the Brown Elephant (whose employees once CHASED ME DOWN THE STREET with my stuff and forced me to take it back), I packed the remaining items in the car and drove them to the Salvation Army on Clybourn. The gentlemen there actually helped me unload the car.

Then I went home and did some reflecting.

Usually, after going into stores, I feel tired.

But this time, I felt more energized than I have in months.

I felt engaged, and elated - like correct dharma was being fulfilled.

Then I counted the money: $88.77, plus three books and a new shirt.

Not bad for two hours of work.

And it's more than enough to cover tomorrow's colonic, when the Cleanse of '08 continues....

THE REMAINS OF THE DAY




Barack Obama has wasted no time, having already appointed a Chief of Staff - my US House Rep., Rahm Emanuel*.

But the City of Chicago has yet to remove the no-parking-during-the-rally signs from downtown streets.

Business as usual in the City that Works.




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*Rahm is a Daley Machine-backed Democrat who just won another term on Tuesday. Names being bandied about for an upcoming special election to fill his seat are all entrenched Dems (Cook County Commissioner Mike Quigley, Ilinois Sen. John Cullerton, Illinois Rep. John Fritchey, Cook County Commissioner Forest Claypool and newly-elected State Rep. Deborah Mell, who is Gov. Rod Blagojevich's sister-in-law and the daughter of powerful Chicago Alderman Richard Mell.). Plus the governor must appoint someone to fill Barack's Senate seat; the short list includes more usual suspects: Democratic Reps. Jesse Jackson, Jr., Luis Gutierrez, Danny Davis and Jan Schakowsky, as well as Atty. Gen. Lisa Madigan, Comptroller Dan Hynes and Treasurer Alexi Giannoulias.


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Photo snapped today on Chicago Avenue near LaSalle Street

"WERE YOU AT GRANT PARK LAST NIGHT?"*




That's the question of the day here in Chicago, where the mood is jovial.

People actually seem happy. They even seem to like each other.

There seems to be a feeling of purpose and shared identity.

That's a rare thing in this tamastic, segregated city that keeps voting for the same thuggish mayor over and over and over again.

The last time I noticed this collective feeling of joy was when the Bears were in the Superbowl.

Before that, it was when Harold Washington was mayor....






May it last past today.....

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*Last night ABC News kept showing (and interviewing) the crowd in New York City's Times Square rather than at Chicago's Grant Park. What, pray tell, were they thinking? For once, NYC was not the center of the world - Chicago was - and they completely missed the boat.

Last night E. called Blet's house at 8PM to ask if he wanted to go down to Grant Park with her. Her husband, a McCain supporter, did not want to go. "Why don't you call someone who doesn't have kids?" Blet suggested.

Yesterday many businesses near Grant Park were closed, including Columbia College. I know this because an adjunct professor and avid ashtangi had the night off and came to class. Today, someone in the banking sector said that her downtown company sent everyone home at 3PM. The CTA trains going both directions were packed to the gills; with people fleeing downtown, and those coming in for the rally. She said there was a strange tension in the air, and that her company had sent people home in case there was trouble. A race riot? I asked. Impossible! People will be dancing with joy. No, she said. They were worried that "the other side" would cause trouble. You mean the Republicans? I asked. Impossible!. I couldn't see it; not unless they were conducting abortions and same-sex marriages at the rally. Besides, Republicans want to protect property, not destroy it. No, not them, she said; they were worried about skinheads and other white supremacists. Oh.





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Top photo of Marina City snapped today, at the corner of Wabash and Wacker.

PLEBISCITE






For those of you who wanted to know if I'm at Grant Park tonight the answer is no - I was at Blet's, watching the returns. And now I'm at home, typing.

Voting was easy today: no line. Plus there were very few signs outside. And there were only four intimidating Daley Machine precinct workers trying to hustle up votes outside. This year they were thinner, younger and fewer than usual. Change is indeed in the air.

And I bypassed them all by riding the bicycle to the high school. By the time I locked it up, I was within the safety zone that they could not penetrate.

Afterwords, on the way to collect a free cup of coffee for voting, I rode past a local bar - which also serves as a polling place.




Only in Chicago...

HALLOWEEN, DIWALI AND INDIAN SUMMER



On Friday, which was unseasonably warm, I met friends for a South Indian lunch of thali, vada and uttapam at Udupi Palace on Devon Avenue. Then I met Kirti for our annual trip to shop for Lakshmi coins. During Diwali, the Hindu new year, it is auspicious to purchase these coins and pray to the goddess Lakshmi.

Only a few places had gold coins this year, which didn't bother me since I can only afford silver (the goddess definitely smiled upon me over the past year, but Dharma's teacher training and the trip to Mysore drained the coffers). It was fun to go from shop to shop and compare prices and try the prasad (blessed sweets) on offer.

After having a tender coconut, I brought an old printer/scanner to the house of a friend who lives just a block away. After enjoying some sweets, we strolled on Devon Avenue. By now the trick-or-treaters were out in full force, and it was delightful to watch. Each shop had a huge pile of candy to give out, and the kids were taking full advantage of their generosity and close proximity to each other (as were roving gangs of older kids in hoodies). We ended up having channa batura and another snack dish at Uru-Swati. The channa batura was nearly as good as at Sandeep restaurant in Tirumala, where we ate our first meal after the overnight train ride and looong queue for Balaji seva tickets just two months ago.



Saturday was my first day off in two weeks, and I had a long overdue massage - which will hopefully make the spine move the next time I see the chiro. I spent the remainder of the day recovering from said massage (when choosing a therapist, don't ask the manager to give you "the most sadistic one" and then ask said therapist to "attack the knots" unless you really mean it - which I did).

On Sunday I sold one of the six bikes in the collection, which includes three vintage Schwinns and a 1970s Cinelli. I sold the Monster Fat (a collector's item from the early 90s) to the person who'd talked me into buying it 17 years ago. I must say, it is not easy to get rid of things - even if it's going to a good home. Not easy at all.

But I'll keep doing it, because it has to be done.




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Top photo was taken at noon today, at Lincoln/Belmont/Ashland.