VID OF THE WEEK
I just can't get enough of this (as long as I turn off the volume).
Maybe because it's proof that yoga really is magic - as long as you stick with it.
The backstory: After knee surgery for some Army injuries went bad, Arthur Boorman ballonned up to 340 pounds - and needed back and knee braces and a cane to walk. Fourteen months ago he started exercising with yoga tapes, finally ordering "Yoga For Regular Guys" by former wrestler Diamond Dallas Page. He changed his diet and stuck with the pratice, and now weighs 156 - and can sprint.
From an article in Boorman's hometown newspaper:
Mr. Page has created three fitness DVDs and has written a book on his Yoga for Regular Guys program. YRG is a "ramped-up power yoga," Mr. Boorman said.
Mr. Boorman filled out what he thought was a form, but later got a blistering phone lecture from Mr. Page himself.
"He said to me, 'You're gonna die! You're gonna leave your wife a widow and your kids without a dad!' He chewed me out," recalled Mr. Boorman.
The former wrestler offered to send a customized eating plan. He made Mr. Boorman promise to follow it. For breakfast he now eats a liquid oatmeal. Lunch consists of fruit or vegetable juice and some raw nuts. For supper, he eats steamed vegetables or salad, gluten-free pasta and, because he is now a vegetarian, a meat replacement instead of meat. He doesn't count calories.
"Food is the fuel that allows me to enjoy things in life," said Mr. Boorman, commenting on the social customs that have developed around eating. "We worship food. I had to let that go."
"There's more fruits in the house," moaned [his son] Eric.
"The fridge is packed with natural foods," added Warren [another son].
"My sons have to be untrained from my years of setting a bad example," Mr. Boorman said.
Those sons made the video.
And Dad now teaches Yoga for Regular Guys.
No word yet on if he's dealt with his workaholic tendencies.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
THE YOGA VOTE
Vegan philanthropist, Def Jam co-founder and yoga practitioner Russell Simmons recently complained to The New York Daily News that the presidential candidates are ignoring the yoga vote.
Huh?
Is that like a soccer mom?
Real real yogis (ie; the ones who practice austerities and are trying to reach samadhi) know that everything that happens is due to karma, and have very little interest in the race (In fact, real yogis would say that the country deserves the candidate who's in the White House at this very moment).
So who does Simmons choose as the most yoga-friendly candidate?
It's not the middle-aged white lady - who looks like most of the yoga practitioners I know.
It's not the scary old man.
He thinks it's Barack Obama.
That could be true.
I did hear him say today (while lambasting Rev. Wright) that he tries to see the commonality among people.
Now that's real yoga.
The piece is here
Monday, April 28, 2008
BOLLYWOOD HARIJANS
Yesterday's Washington Post carried an article about lower caste Indians trying to break into the upper caste, nepotistic Bollywood system.
It actually used the word caste. Many times.
The writer cited Shahrukh Khan as an example of someone bucking the system (one of the nation's most popular actors, he's a middle-class Muslim who made his own way, with no Bollywood connections).
An excerpt:
But others say that pretending caste is no longer a factor fails to acknowledge the social filters that prevent many members of lower castes from even coming to the door of a film studio or an expensive acting school.
"There's a feeling among the urban upper castes that the majority of India -- meaning the rural, lower-caste India -- is no longer important and can be totally ignored," said Shyam Benegal*, the father of Indian art-house cinema, known for his award-winning caste-based films. "To me, it's an exaggerated sense of self-esteem to claim that there is no poverty in India. It's a serious denial problem when these plots aren't making it into films. Cinema is so powerful and is very important in teaching empathy."
After Mohandas K. Gandhi's efforts to end caste discrimination in the 1930s and later during the 1970s, there was a trend toward serious caste-based films. But those movies became an old chapter in Indian cinema as soon as the country opened its markets to the world in the 1990s. Consumerism exploded, and plots about nonresident Indians living abroad became the vogue.
"It's the American dream turned into the Indian dream that's really seen in our aspirational cinema," Benegal said. "People in huts want to see films about people living in mansions. The stories end up in never-never land, with some rich Indian family living in Scotland or who knows where. But if anything, that just cements caste. It's not forwarding social change."
The full text is here.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Netflix, by the way, carries many of Benegal's films - including Junoon, which stars Shashi Kapoor.
Friday, April 25, 2008
SKPJ AND MYSORE IN TIME MAGAZINE
Time magazine has an article about the yoga teachers in Mysore who attract a local following. According to the magazine, the local folks don't even know / care about them.
I think that's a load of bunk* - perhaps the writer speaks Hindi, not Kannada - but here's an excerpt anyway:
K. Pattabhi Jois, who taught Natascha here, was a disciple of Krishnamacharya, whose style he took to the world. But she also studied with Jois's student B.N.S. Iyengar, who moved away from his guru's rigidly-defined sequence of postures towards greater emphasis on the spiritual. "If anyone asks me for advice, I suggest Jois for flexibility, and Iyengar for concentration," she says, while demonstrating a split and touching her forehead to the ground as nonchalantly as a cat stretching after a nap.
________________________________________________________________________________
*Locals call SKPJ "Dollars Guru"
Time magazine has an article about the yoga teachers in Mysore who attract a local following. According to the magazine, the local folks don't even know / care about them.
I think that's a load of bunk* - perhaps the writer speaks Hindi, not Kannada - but here's an excerpt anyway:
K. Pattabhi Jois, who taught Natascha here, was a disciple of Krishnamacharya, whose style he took to the world. But she also studied with Jois's student B.N.S. Iyengar, who moved away from his guru's rigidly-defined sequence of postures towards greater emphasis on the spiritual. "If anyone asks me for advice, I suggest Jois for flexibility, and Iyengar for concentration," she says, while demonstrating a split and touching her forehead to the ground as nonchalantly as a cat stretching after a nap.
________________________________________________________________________________
*Locals call SKPJ "Dollars Guru"
Thursday, April 24, 2008
FLORIDA SHALA TO OPEN (?)*
The AYRI has posted a note saying that Guruji has a clean bill of health and will be in Islamorada, Florida to open the new shala on Memorial Day weekend.
If this is true it is a a very good thing indeed.
Actually it seems like this time around they will be able to follow through.
So I looked into a flight, hotel, rental car, etc. But the combined cost is rather high.
A far better idea would be to get a few people together and join the other Memorial Day morons and drive down in a VW bus or some other type of RV - and sleep in the thing itself.
It's only 1,457 miles south -- or 22 hours and 32 minutes.
We could park the thing in front of the new shala.
Or on the beach.
Any takers?
______________________________________________
*Thanks to Katy for the tip.
Yes, that is a younger, shinier me with Guruji, Manju and Sharath at the Puck Building back in '00.
The AYRI has posted a note saying that Guruji has a clean bill of health and will be in Islamorada, Florida to open the new shala on Memorial Day weekend.
If this is true it is a a very good thing indeed.
Actually it seems like this time around they will be able to follow through.
So I looked into a flight, hotel, rental car, etc. But the combined cost is rather high.
A far better idea would be to get a few people together and join the other Memorial Day morons and drive down in a VW bus or some other type of RV - and sleep in the thing itself.
It's only 1,457 miles south -- or 22 hours and 32 minutes.
We could park the thing in front of the new shala.
Or on the beach.
Any takers?
______________________________________________
*Thanks to Katy for the tip.
Yes, that is a younger, shinier me with Guruji, Manju and Sharath at the Puck Building back in '00.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
A WONDERFUL WEEK WITH LINO
is what has been keeping me from posting.
(That, plus the teacher training the deadlines, the teaching........)
Today however I will be missing his full vinyasa practice at Moksha. Gotta go back to work.
Still I was lucky to do four days of Mysore with him and watch his led primary class and do the techniques and adjustments workshop - again.
He and Dharma Mittra are similar in so many ways. They both spent many, many years at the feet of their guru absorbing everything they could. They were both asked by their guru to teach. They are both incredibly humble. They even say "mozzarella" the same way ("MOOO-zarella").
If you missed Lino's workshop, you can wait til he returns to Chicago in 2010.
Or you can visit him in Kovalam.
Read my 2002 article about it here.
Monday, April 14, 2008
FLYING PT II
When I got to O'Hare there were two lines in the United terminal; one was long and one was short.
The ridiculously long one was for MD-80 passengees from American Airlines.
I got in the line.
I waited.
I looked at my watch.
There was no way I was going to make my 2PM flight.
Everyone in the line was annoyed; their flights had been cancelled.
We waited.
And waited.
From time to time the line actually moved.
A few people - those whose tickets had the correct type of confirmation number - were plucked from the line and ushered to self check-in kiosks.
Not I.
When I finally got to the front of the line they could not find my name on the 2PM flight.
They couldn't find me on the 5PM flight, either.
Apparently there was a problem on American's end.
The screwup was so unusual that customer service agent, who was incredibly efficient, had to leave her post and ask her superior what to do.
In the meantime I started dialing American. They still weren't taking calls.
After some time the woman returned. She had two receipts in her hand.
One was for standby on the 2PM flight.
One was for a confirmed seat on the 5PM flight.
Both were covered with a line of S's.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSs
She handed them to me and pointed towards the security gate. "I think you'll make it," she said.
How, I wondered, could I do that if I had to go through the high-security frisking and suitcase-sifting.
Apparently she knew what she was doing.
Because the TSA person saw my ticket, he whisked me and another woman to the nearly-empty high-security area.
We made it through in three minutes flat.
I arrived at my gate panting.
The flight was still boarding.
I had time to fill my water bottle.
I had time to get a little something at Wolfgang Puck's.
Then I went back to the gate.
And waited.
And waited.
My name was too far down the list to make standby.
So I skulked away.
I drank my water.
I ate my little something from Wolfgang Puck's.
I wandered around the airport.
I found a quiet corner and took a good long nap in the sun.
And I finally flew out at 5PM.
I was in the last row, in the very last seat.
But I was in very good company.
The entire back row was filled with American passengees.
It was a very exlusive club.
And each and every ne of us felt lucky to be there.
Very lucky indeed.
* * *
On the way home my flight actually left on time - for the first time since I started going back-and-forth to the teacher training in February.
The problem was with the CTA (subway or metro).
After two stops we all had to disembark and take a bus for a few miles, before we were let back on the train.
It took forever.
It was exhausting.
But at least it was over fairly quickly.
* * *
Long before the problem with the MD-80's I booked my next trip to NYC on my home town airline - United (which, incidentally, flies bigger planes (757s) with TVs on the ORD-LGA route, and serves the drinks shortly after takeoff rather than withholding them until mid-flight, when you've already given up).
When I got to O'Hare there were two lines in the United terminal; one was long and one was short.
The ridiculously long one was for MD-80 passengees from American Airlines.
I got in the line.
I waited.
I looked at my watch.
There was no way I was going to make my 2PM flight.
Everyone in the line was annoyed; their flights had been cancelled.
We waited.
And waited.
From time to time the line actually moved.
A few people - those whose tickets had the correct type of confirmation number - were plucked from the line and ushered to self check-in kiosks.
Not I.
When I finally got to the front of the line they could not find my name on the 2PM flight.
They couldn't find me on the 5PM flight, either.
Apparently there was a problem on American's end.
The screwup was so unusual that customer service agent, who was incredibly efficient, had to leave her post and ask her superior what to do.
In the meantime I started dialing American. They still weren't taking calls.
After some time the woman returned. She had two receipts in her hand.
One was for standby on the 2PM flight.
One was for a confirmed seat on the 5PM flight.
Both were covered with a line of S's.
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSs
She handed them to me and pointed towards the security gate. "I think you'll make it," she said.
How, I wondered, could I do that if I had to go through the high-security frisking and suitcase-sifting.
Apparently she knew what she was doing.
Because the TSA person saw my ticket, he whisked me and another woman to the nearly-empty high-security area.
We made it through in three minutes flat.
I arrived at my gate panting.
The flight was still boarding.
I had time to fill my water bottle.
I had time to get a little something at Wolfgang Puck's.
Then I went back to the gate.
And waited.
And waited.
My name was too far down the list to make standby.
So I skulked away.
I drank my water.
I ate my little something from Wolfgang Puck's.
I wandered around the airport.
I found a quiet corner and took a good long nap in the sun.
And I finally flew out at 5PM.
I was in the last row, in the very last seat.
But I was in very good company.
The entire back row was filled with American passengees.
It was a very exlusive club.
And each and every ne of us felt lucky to be there.
Very lucky indeed.
* * *
On the way home my flight actually left on time - for the first time since I started going back-and-forth to the teacher training in February.
The problem was with the CTA (subway or metro).
After two stops we all had to disembark and take a bus for a few miles, before we were let back on the train.
It took forever.
It was exhausting.
But at least it was over fairly quickly.
* * *
Long before the problem with the MD-80's I booked my next trip to NYC on my home town airline - United (which, incidentally, flies bigger planes (757s) with TVs on the ORD-LGA route, and serves the drinks shortly after takeoff rather than withholding them until mid-flight, when you've already given up).
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
LIMBO
My flight to NYC today (for Dharma Mittra's teacher training) was on an American Airlines MD-80.
I wasn't aware of the importance of this until I received an e-mail from Catesey this morning, asking me about the type of plane I was flying on.
Sure enough, it's one of the myriad planes grounded by American Airlines. Hundreds of flights have been canceled.
(It's a Boeing plane, by the way. After receiving many tax breaks, Boeing relocated its headquarters to Chicago).
Sure enough, my flight was cancelled, too.
(Now I am 3 for 3, with flights cancellations from ORD to LGA).
But this time I was not immediately rebooked.
This time I was told to call American Airlines to rebook.
I started calling.
And calling.
And calling.
When they picked up, the voicemail said all the agents were busy, and to call back later.
Every time I got past that noise and was on hold for an agent, I got a fast busy signal. Nada.
I kept calling. For hours.
Using the other line, I also booked a flight on United for $300. Just in case.
I looked into a flight on Southwest, even though I'd prefer not to fly from Midway to Long Island (although my friend there said she'd pick me up, no problem).
I talked to Dreyfus about driving out east, or taking a train.
Echoes of 9/11, only not as dire.
I came up with plan B, C and D.
I waited for the travel agent to open at 9AM.
In the interim I dialed and dialed.
Gridlife's advice was to keep calling; it was like trying to get Cubs tickets. If I perservered, eventually I'd get through.
He's the Travel Answer Man, so I didn't give up.
He was right of course.
Finally, after two hours, I got through and was put on hold.
No busy signal this time.
This time I heard that glorious waiting music.
And I waited.
And listened.
And waited.
And listened.
Fortunately I have a headset phone and was able to finish packing while I waited.
And wash dishes.
And take out the garbage.
Finally I heard a live human voice.
I was happy to hear it.
The voice booked me on a United flight leaving at 5PM - the earliest she could get me out.
This meant I would miss Catesey's play tonight.
So after hanging up I called United.
If mom says no, ask dad.
After some confusion (my fault), United canceled the 2PM flight I'd booked earlier, and re-booked me a "courtesy" seat on it.
Now I'm off to the airport, hoping the ticketing agent has access to the same information I do.
Fingers crossed.
My flight to NYC today (for Dharma Mittra's teacher training) was on an American Airlines MD-80.
I wasn't aware of the importance of this until I received an e-mail from Catesey this morning, asking me about the type of plane I was flying on.
Sure enough, it's one of the myriad planes grounded by American Airlines. Hundreds of flights have been canceled.
(It's a Boeing plane, by the way. After receiving many tax breaks, Boeing relocated its headquarters to Chicago).
Sure enough, my flight was cancelled, too.
(Now I am 3 for 3, with flights cancellations from ORD to LGA).
But this time I was not immediately rebooked.
This time I was told to call American Airlines to rebook.
I started calling.
And calling.
And calling.
When they picked up, the voicemail said all the agents were busy, and to call back later.
Every time I got past that noise and was on hold for an agent, I got a fast busy signal. Nada.
I kept calling. For hours.
Using the other line, I also booked a flight on United for $300. Just in case.
I looked into a flight on Southwest, even though I'd prefer not to fly from Midway to Long Island (although my friend there said she'd pick me up, no problem).
I talked to Dreyfus about driving out east, or taking a train.
Echoes of 9/11, only not as dire.
I came up with plan B, C and D.
I waited for the travel agent to open at 9AM.
In the interim I dialed and dialed.
Gridlife's advice was to keep calling; it was like trying to get Cubs tickets. If I perservered, eventually I'd get through.
He's the Travel Answer Man, so I didn't give up.
He was right of course.
Finally, after two hours, I got through and was put on hold.
No busy signal this time.
This time I heard that glorious waiting music.
And I waited.
And listened.
And waited.
And listened.
Fortunately I have a headset phone and was able to finish packing while I waited.
And wash dishes.
And take out the garbage.
Finally I heard a live human voice.
I was happy to hear it.
The voice booked me on a United flight leaving at 5PM - the earliest she could get me out.
This meant I would miss Catesey's play tonight.
So after hanging up I called United.
If mom says no, ask dad.
After some confusion (my fault), United canceled the 2PM flight I'd booked earlier, and re-booked me a "courtesy" seat on it.
Now I'm off to the airport, hoping the ticketing agent has access to the same information I do.
Fingers crossed.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
ASHTANGA'S TRIPLE T(H)REAT: SWENSON, MIELE AND SANSON
It's a good time to live in Chicago - and not just because it was 60 and sunny today.
-Next week David Swenson (below) will allegedly be giving two surprise mini-workshops at North Shore Yoga in Northfield (the first yoga workshop I ever attended was with David, in 1998):
Thursday, April 11 4-6PM Primary Series $50
Friday, April 12 4-6PM Intro to Intermediate Series $50
-My teacher, Lino Miele (whom I rarely see, above), comes to town April 15 for four days of Mysore at Yogaview and a weekend workshop at Moksha Yoga. The Moksha segement includes his famous adjustment seminar and full vinyasa practice. He was last here in 2004...or was it 2003?
-Certified New Zealand-born teacher Peter Sanson will be leading morning Mysore classes at YogaNow during the week of April 21-26, from 6:30-8:30AM (I used to eat across from him at Aunty's on my first trip to Mysore back in 2002. He is the real thing).
Monday April 21st - Saturday April 26th
6:30 a.m. – 8:30 a.m.
I'll be at the last two workshops.
How about you?
PS
Do not try this at home
It's a good time to live in Chicago - and not just because it was 60 and sunny today.
-Next week David Swenson (below) will allegedly be giving two surprise mini-workshops at North Shore Yoga in Northfield (the first yoga workshop I ever attended was with David, in 1998):
Thursday, April 11 4-6PM Primary Series $50
Friday, April 12 4-6PM Intro to Intermediate Series $50
-My teacher, Lino Miele (whom I rarely see, above), comes to town April 15 for four days of Mysore at Yogaview and a weekend workshop at Moksha Yoga. The Moksha segement includes his famous adjustment seminar and full vinyasa practice. He was last here in 2004...or was it 2003?
-Certified New Zealand-born teacher Peter Sanson will be leading morning Mysore classes at YogaNow during the week of April 21-26, from 6:30-8:30AM (I used to eat across from him at Aunty's on my first trip to Mysore back in 2002. He is the real thing).
Monday April 21st - Saturday April 26th
6:30 a.m. – 8:30 a.m.
I'll be at the last two workshops.
How about you?
PS
Do not try this at home
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
MUY MALA
Yesterday I went to Miss Y's studio to practice with Henry the Punk.
As I was taking off my crystal mala(rosary) it broke.
Actually, it exploded.
Its 108* beads flew all over the bamboo floor.
As K.T., Miss Y and I scrambled to pick up the pieces, Miss Y told me that the mala was done.
"What?" I asked.
"Those karmas have been burned."
Huh?
"Whatever you've been meditating on, you're done."
In other words, I can stop restringing the beads.**
Apparently when a mala breaks it represents finished karmas. According to some traditions, the remainder of the mala should be thrown into the sea.
It made sense to me.
So last night, after teaching my final class, I drove to the lakefront.
I ignored the lone male roamers parked at Foster Avenue Beach.
I made my way to the graffiti-decorated rocks that line the shore.
It was very dark.
It was also incredibly windy. My hair flew everywhere.
It felt good on the skin.
I climbed down the layers of rocks until the dark waters of Lake Michigan were right in front of me.
I reached into my purse and pulled out the envelope full of beads.
I said a little prayer, and emptied it into the water.
The beads sounded heavy when they fell.
And I felt many pounds lighter as I walked back to my car.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
*The mala actually has 109 beads. The 109th is the guru bead, which is not counted but used as a marker and turn-around point.
**This same mala, which I purchased in India, first broke late last year. Not knowing any better, I searched and searched until I my friend Kirti gave me some thread (purchased in India) thin enough to fit through the beads' tiny holes. I even made a new tassle for it (from yarn purchased in India). Oops.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
NO SLEEP TIL GRADUATION IN SEPTEMBER
-OR-
NO WONDER THERE'S NO TIME TO FOLD LAUNDRY,
CUT MY NAILS,
OR FIX MY PROFILE PIC
I did some math and realized the following;
I am teaching 35-plus hours a week.
(This does not include workshops or writing the newsletter or updating the website or photocopying mantras / reading lists / explanations of the Yamas and Niyamas; nor does it count the travel time to and from the various venues, plus arriving early and staying late to talk to students, etc.).
The teacher training is taking over 20 hours a week - plus the 45 hours a month we spend in NYC with the guru. (This does not include travel to and from NYC and the requisite flight delays and cancellations; thus far I am four for four, with two flights delayed and two cancelled altogether). More on this in a future post. Suffice to say I spent over an hour today peeling the skins off of sprouted almonds - and I'm way behind on my coloring assignment.
The journalism takes 5-20 hours a week. And some weeks even more; I'm currently working on FIVE DEADLINES.
Something has to give.
Hopefully it's not my lower back.
-OR-
NO WONDER THERE'S NO TIME TO FOLD LAUNDRY,
CUT MY NAILS,
OR FIX MY PROFILE PIC
I did some math and realized the following;
I am teaching 35-plus hours a week.
(This does not include workshops or writing the newsletter or updating the website or photocopying mantras / reading lists / explanations of the Yamas and Niyamas; nor does it count the travel time to and from the various venues, plus arriving early and staying late to talk to students, etc.).
The teacher training is taking over 20 hours a week - plus the 45 hours a month we spend in NYC with the guru. (This does not include travel to and from NYC and the requisite flight delays and cancellations; thus far I am four for four, with two flights delayed and two cancelled altogether). More on this in a future post. Suffice to say I spent over an hour today peeling the skins off of sprouted almonds - and I'm way behind on my coloring assignment.
The journalism takes 5-20 hours a week. And some weeks even more; I'm currently working on FIVE DEADLINES.
Something has to give.
Hopefully it's not my lower back.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Y LOS SUENOS SUENOS SON
The other night I dreamt that I was having a talk with my boyfriend, Shahrukh Khan.
He was complimenting me on my excellent command of Hindi.
He was especially impressed by my ability to pronounce the retroflex R.
It was then that I knew for sure it was just a dream....
Saturday, March 22, 2008
JUST IN TIME FOR THE PERSIAN NEW YEAR*
Tonight (March 22) there's a once-in-a-lifetime concert, called A Mystical Journey. It features who's-who of the world's finest singers, musicians and dancers performing music from various Sufi and other esoteric traditions of Islam.
In a sense, they are engaged in a form of bhakti yoga (the yoga of devotion):
The Sufi and other esoteric traditions of Islam manifest their beliefs through diverse forms of devotion ranging from ecstatic movements in dance to meditative exercises in quiet solitude. These acts of devotion seek the promise of enlightenment which offers a divinely-graced vision, moral clarity and all encompassing love. Enlightenment in these esoteric traditions speaks of a dissolution of the very self in a union with the divine that words cannot easily convey and thus music, poetry and dance become critical forms of expression.
It's at 8 at downtown's tony Cadillac Palace Theatre. Tickets start at $22.50 - which is a steal. More here.
*Thanks to Bindi for the heads-up on the concert. Maybe we'll see you there. If you live in Dallas, Houston or NYC, get ready - the tour is headed your way.
Friday, March 21, 2008
HAPPY PERSIAN NEW YEAR
It's not just Good Friday and a full moon day and Holi (the Indian festival of colours).
It's also Nowruz - the Persian new year - which is celebrated by Sufis, Bahá'Ã's and Parsis.
Parsis are descended from Zoroastrians who fled to the Indian subcontinent over 1,000 years ago, after the Arabs invaded Persia in the late 8th Century. (Parsi simply means "person from Persia").
According to legend, when the Parsis first came to India, the emperor poured a glass of milk to the brim, showing that the land could not possibly support more people. The head Parsi priest poured some sugar in the milk, showing that they would enrich the community but not unsettle it. Other versions say he put rosewater or coins into the milk.
Whatever it was, the emperor allowed the exiles to settle - as long as they promised to learn Gujarati, lay down their arms, adopt the local dress, respect local customs, and conduct their rituals at night.
In some ways it was like coming home; founded by the prophet Zoroaster (Zarathushtra) in the 9th/10th century BC, Zoroastrianism "can be traced back to the culture and beliefs of the proto-Indo-Iranian period....[and] consequently shares some elements with the historical Vedic religion that also has its origins in that era."
They believe in one universal and transcendental God, Ahura Mazda, "the one Uncreated Creator to whom all worship is ultimately directed. Ahura Mazda's creation — evident as asha, truth and order — is the antithesis of chaos, evident as druj, falsehood and disorder. The resulting conflict involves the entire universe, including humanity, which has an active role to play in the conflict."
The focus is on doing good deeds to keep chaos at bay. "This active participation is a central element in Zoroaster's concept of free will, and Zoroastrianism rejects all forms of monasticism."
The energy of the creator (not God Himself) is represented by fire and the sun, "which are both enduring, radiant, pure and life sustaining," so worship is usually done in front of some form of fire. (They don't worship the fire itself, but use it as a point of focus.)
I've been wanting to visit Iran since learning about fire temples while writing this article for The Reader.
Nowadays there are fewer than 100,000 Parsis worldwide, with the highest concentration (70,000) in India, mostly in Bombay. (Parsis were the first Indians to embrace BKS Iyengar's yoga teaching, by the way). But their population is rapidly declining. UNESCO projects that by 2020, only 25,000 Parsis will be left, and there's a movement afoot to preserve their culture.
Many special foods are eaten on the Persian new year - including falooda, a milkshake-like drink made with ice cream, pink rosewater, basil seeds and tapioca or vermicelli noodles. For more on the food, check out this Kitchen Sisters story about Parsi cooking.
Famous Parsis include Queen's Freddie Mercury (Farokh Bulsara) and Rohinton Mistry, author of A Fine Balance.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
SUPPORT THE DALAI LAMA
If you haven't heard, China has been cracking down on Tibet. It's the worst it's been since the Dalai Lama escaped in 1959.
The news reports are suppressed, so no one really knows what's going on.
The Dalai Lama is calling for restraint and dialog.
India, home to 100,000 Tibetan refugees, is stuck in the middle.
The US won't speak up; because of the trade defecit, China virtually owns this country.
So what can *we* do?
You could start by boycotting products made in China.
Good luck with that.
Or sign a petition here.
Click here to read my article about the Dalai Lama's moving speech in Chicago last year. An excerpt:
"...He told a story about a Tibetan monk who spent many years in the Chinese Gulag (prison) and later went to India. 'He said he faced danger a few times. "What danger?" [The Dalai Lama] asked. "Of losing compassion towards the Chinese," the monk replied. It is important to keep compassion towards those who cause you disturbances. In spite of difficult life and hostile surroundings, an individual can keep peace of mind,' the Dalai Lama told us."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Photos of the South Indian Tibetan refugee settlement of Bylakuppe
by CK (c) 2006.
If you haven't heard, China has been cracking down on Tibet. It's the worst it's been since the Dalai Lama escaped in 1959.
The news reports are suppressed, so no one really knows what's going on.
The Dalai Lama is calling for restraint and dialog.
India, home to 100,000 Tibetan refugees, is stuck in the middle.
The US won't speak up; because of the trade defecit, China virtually owns this country.
So what can *we* do?
You could start by boycotting products made in China.
Good luck with that.
Or sign a petition here.
Click here to read my article about the Dalai Lama's moving speech in Chicago last year. An excerpt:
"...He told a story about a Tibetan monk who spent many years in the Chinese Gulag (prison) and later went to India. 'He said he faced danger a few times. "What danger?" [The Dalai Lama] asked. "Of losing compassion towards the Chinese," the monk replied. It is important to keep compassion towards those who cause you disturbances. In spite of difficult life and hostile surroundings, an individual can keep peace of mind,' the Dalai Lama told us."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Photos of the South Indian Tibetan refugee settlement of Bylakuppe
by CK (c) 2006.
Monday, March 17, 2008
BANGALORE AIRPORT
Last week, India's Airports Authority Employees Union went on strike to protest plans to open private airports in the high-tech South Indian cities of Hyderabad and Bangalore.
Both new airports are located well outside of city limits and are not yet served by rail.
The more convenient older, state-run airports are slated to be closed down.
Garbage began to pile up at the nation's airports during the strike, although the planes continued to fly.
The union ended the strike after two days, once the government promised it would consider the interests of the workers at the old airports.
I don't think they got anything on paper.
Which is too bad, because experts say keeping the old airports open is not economically viable.
Hyderabad's Rajiv Gandhi International Airport was slated to open Saturday at midnight, although the civil aviation ministry surprised everyone at the inaugural ceremony by saying it would be delayed "by a few days."
Whatever. The high-tech, glass-and-steel Hyderabad airport is a showcase with its own slide show plus a theme song composed by South Indian musical genius AR Rahman. It will open. Soon.
We're not so sure about the 4050-acre Bengaluru International Airport, which was slated to open March 30.
Opening day has now been moved to May 11 due to deficiencies in air traffic and electricity infrastructure.
The Bangalore airport has neither a theme song nor a stunning design. In fact, it is meant to look "like a factory."
It has been beleaguered by delays since day one.
Maybe the delays will keep coming.
I adore the charming old Bangalore airport, where I've spent hours and hours filling out lost luggage forms and waiting for planes to other places.
I love the newly-widened road from Mysore to the airport, and the safe, wonderful pure veg restaurant where we stop at all hours to sit outside and have a bite.
The airport itself small and navigable.
The people who work there are nice (not like in Mumbai!).
It has a Cafe Coffee Day that's open at 3AM.
It's home to my favorite bookstore in the whole wide world.
And it's where I first set foot in India, back in 2002, and encountered its distinct, welcoming, incense-humidity-burning fuel aroma.
I'll really miss it....
Friday, March 14, 2008
DICKIE-G IS NOT OBSCENE
India's Supreme Court has cleared Richard Gere of obscenity charges for kissing and mauling actress Shilpa Shetty in public last year.
As you may recall, public displays of affection in India are verboten - unless it's two boys of course.
From the BBC:
The judges said the court believed that such complaints (against celebrities) were "frivolous" and filed for "cheap publicity".
The complainants "have brought a bad name to the country", the court said.
In 2007, a court in the western state of Rajasthan ordered the arrest of Gere for sweeping Shetty into his arms at an Aids awareness event in New Delhi.
It also wanted the actress to appear in court over charges that she did not resist Gere's advances. Two other similar cases were filed.
Shetty shot into the global limelight after being the victim of alleged racist bullying and insults on the UK's Celebrity Big Brother. She went on to win the contest.
The full story is here.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
THE GREAT SCIENCE EXPERIMENTS OF 2008
EXPERIMENT NUMBER ONE: SPROUTED ALMONDS
Dharma's teacher training program includes a lot of "homework." During the first month it included a very specific daily breathing-concentration-meditation sitting practice, teaching free karma yoga classes and coloring a page of Oms (which is very meditative).
If you miss a day of the sitting practice, you are not allowed to eat solid food after 4PM the following day. If you miss three times, you don't get the next plan. Of course it's on the honor system.
This time we have a different sitting plan, with different breathing and concentration practices (including Trataka) and a different meditation focus.
We also received a diet plan.
This month we are to start each day not with caffeine but a stomach-cleansing elixer of hot water and lemon, with or without sweetener.
It actually works; yesterday after sitting I just had to smell the coffee as it brewed and it had the desired effect (ie; an elimination round).
The other thing we must drink each morning is Dharma's Breakfast Blend - a smoothie consisting of one banana, a handful of sprouted almonds and juice or soymilk.
At first I was skeptical; as a former food combiner I had issues with the idea of mixing a sweet fruit with any other type of food.
And I had no idea to sprout almonds.*
Here's what you do:
-Purchase raw almonds.
-Rinse.
-Cover with water just above the level of the almonds.
-Soak for ten hours.
-Drain the water. Cover the almonds and wait two-to-three hours.
-By now the almonds should be sprouted. Little white nubs will appear.
-To make it easier remove the skin (which is said to be toxic), pour the almonds into boiling water for a few seconds (not long enough for them to cook or to turn yellow). Drain immediately and rinse with cold water.
-Start peeling
-Keep peeling
-Peel some more
-Finish peeling
-After two days, store the almonds in the refrigerator. Change the water every two days.
-Repeat.
I've been blending the almonds and bananas with apple cider. Not only is it tasty, but the stomach has no problem with it. Still, I may try making it with tender coconut milk tomorrow, for an all-raw senation.
Our diet plan also includes consuming at least two items each day from a list of solid foods that ranges from salads, sprouts and raw or steamed vegetables to brown rice, tofu and sprouted breads (If you skip either "diet," you cannot have solid food after 4PM the following day. For me, this is plenty of incentive to stay on track).
Fortunately, the solid diet is the same as what I usually eat.
But even afer just four days of hot water/lemon and the Breakfast Blend, I'm feeling leaner and meaner (actually, I feel a lot nicer) and less hungry.
EXPERIMENT NUMBER TWO: LAS CUCARACHAS
I have not knowingly killed a cockroach since before last year's teacher training.
This is done in the name of Ahimsa, or non-harming of other creatures. (Ahimsa is the first and therefore the most important of yoga's ethical guidelines. As we learned last weekend, Patanjali always lists the most important item first).
In yoga, each living being is thought to have the same inner light or Atman or soul; in other words, deep down we are all the same.
If you really believe this - and I'm trying to - them you have compassion for all beings - from the jagoff in the BMW who cuts in front of you to the poor little cockroach trying to eke out an existence in your kitchen.
As Dharma says, even the cockroach has a family and just wants to live its life.
As his disciple Andrei Ram says, even killing one cockroach is a step off the path.
And, according to Yoga Sutra II-34, you're just as guilty if you let someone else kill them if it's done within your sphere of influence.
So I've been doing my best to keep the kitchen clean.
It's not working.
A whole family is living with me.
I'm watching them grow up.
I dread it when I don't see them; I dread it when I do see them.
So tonight I bought some Pandan Leaves at the Asian market.
Apparently cab drivers in Singapore Malaysia leave them in the car to keep the cockroaches at bay.
I'm hoping for the best.....
* * *
*Apparently sprouted almonds are easier to digest and more nutritious than their plain bretheren: "Sprouting is the key to preparing many food items that traditionally are thought to need cooking. In order to make them optimally digestible, a raw foodist will simply soak seeds, nuts, grains and legumes, causing them to germinate." More here.
EXPERIMENT NUMBER ONE: SPROUTED ALMONDS
Dharma's teacher training program includes a lot of "homework." During the first month it included a very specific daily breathing-concentration-meditation sitting practice, teaching free karma yoga classes and coloring a page of Oms (which is very meditative).
If you miss a day of the sitting practice, you are not allowed to eat solid food after 4PM the following day. If you miss three times, you don't get the next plan. Of course it's on the honor system.
This time we have a different sitting plan, with different breathing and concentration practices (including Trataka) and a different meditation focus.
We also received a diet plan.
This month we are to start each day not with caffeine but a stomach-cleansing elixer of hot water and lemon, with or without sweetener.
It actually works; yesterday after sitting I just had to smell the coffee as it brewed and it had the desired effect (ie; an elimination round).
The other thing we must drink each morning is Dharma's Breakfast Blend - a smoothie consisting of one banana, a handful of sprouted almonds and juice or soymilk.
At first I was skeptical; as a former food combiner I had issues with the idea of mixing a sweet fruit with any other type of food.
And I had no idea to sprout almonds.*
Here's what you do:
-Purchase raw almonds.
-Rinse.
-Cover with water just above the level of the almonds.
-Soak for ten hours.
-Drain the water. Cover the almonds and wait two-to-three hours.
-By now the almonds should be sprouted. Little white nubs will appear.
-To make it easier remove the skin (which is said to be toxic), pour the almonds into boiling water for a few seconds (not long enough for them to cook or to turn yellow). Drain immediately and rinse with cold water.
-Start peeling
-Keep peeling
-Peel some more
-Finish peeling
-After two days, store the almonds in the refrigerator. Change the water every two days.
-Repeat.
I've been blending the almonds and bananas with apple cider. Not only is it tasty, but the stomach has no problem with it. Still, I may try making it with tender coconut milk tomorrow, for an all-raw senation.
Our diet plan also includes consuming at least two items each day from a list of solid foods that ranges from salads, sprouts and raw or steamed vegetables to brown rice, tofu and sprouted breads (If you skip either "diet," you cannot have solid food after 4PM the following day. For me, this is plenty of incentive to stay on track).
Fortunately, the solid diet is the same as what I usually eat.
But even afer just four days of hot water/lemon and the Breakfast Blend, I'm feeling leaner and meaner (actually, I feel a lot nicer) and less hungry.
EXPERIMENT NUMBER TWO: LAS CUCARACHAS
I have not knowingly killed a cockroach since before last year's teacher training.
This is done in the name of Ahimsa, or non-harming of other creatures. (Ahimsa is the first and therefore the most important of yoga's ethical guidelines. As we learned last weekend, Patanjali always lists the most important item first).
In yoga, each living being is thought to have the same inner light or Atman or soul; in other words, deep down we are all the same.
If you really believe this - and I'm trying to - them you have compassion for all beings - from the jagoff in the BMW who cuts in front of you to the poor little cockroach trying to eke out an existence in your kitchen.
As Dharma says, even the cockroach has a family and just wants to live its life.
As his disciple Andrei Ram says, even killing one cockroach is a step off the path.
And, according to Yoga Sutra II-34, you're just as guilty if you let someone else kill them if it's done within your sphere of influence.
So I've been doing my best to keep the kitchen clean.
It's not working.
A whole family is living with me.
I'm watching them grow up.
I dread it when I don't see them; I dread it when I do see them.
So tonight I bought some Pandan Leaves at the Asian market.
Apparently cab drivers in Singapore Malaysia leave them in the car to keep the cockroaches at bay.
I'm hoping for the best.....
* * *
*Apparently sprouted almonds are easier to digest and more nutritious than their plain bretheren: "Sprouting is the key to preparing many food items that traditionally are thought to need cooking. In order to make them optimally digestible, a raw foodist will simply soak seeds, nuts, grains and legumes, causing them to germinate." More here.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
BARELY BACK
The teacher training was exhausting.
It is not easy to endure 15-hour days (with no breaks) when you are well, let alone fighting a ear-throat-sinus infection.
On Thursday afternoon I learned I was teaching a (public) 10AM Level II class the following day.
On Thursday evening Group B was given a short break, so we checked into the hotel. Just before leaving my head started to throb. By the time I got to the hotel it was a full-blown migraine, and I was nauseous in addition to being sick, dizzy, and in ear pain.
I did not go back to the training that night.
I slept.
And then I went and ate at Angelica Kitchen and got some food to go for the following (breakless) day. The headache was still there.
The next day I still felt awful.
Yet when 10AM rolled around I went forth and taught - with the mental help of my teachers and classmates.
Apparently it was a pretty good class.
The focus this weekend was on the yoga sutras, taught by the wonderful Edwin Bryant. The long (four hour?) sessions were even attended by an NYC ashtanga studio co-owner whom I remember seeing in Mysore last year (of course she did not remember me. They never do).
I didn't start feeling better until Saturday night's Maha Sadhana (a three-hour class with Dharma that includes pranayama, chanting, and various Psychic Development techniques).
Sunday's three back-to-back-classes were doable - although I was still dizzy and tired. I think I've had this ear infection for months - which would explain the ear pain that never went away - and it's not leaving quietly.
Of course my plane home was delayed. Only 45 minuts this time.
On Monday I was so tired I was nauseous.
We'll see how today goes.....
The teacher training was exhausting.
It is not easy to endure 15-hour days (with no breaks) when you are well, let alone fighting a ear-throat-sinus infection.
On Thursday afternoon I learned I was teaching a (public) 10AM Level II class the following day.
On Thursday evening Group B was given a short break, so we checked into the hotel. Just before leaving my head started to throb. By the time I got to the hotel it was a full-blown migraine, and I was nauseous in addition to being sick, dizzy, and in ear pain.
I did not go back to the training that night.
I slept.
And then I went and ate at Angelica Kitchen and got some food to go for the following (breakless) day. The headache was still there.
The next day I still felt awful.
Yet when 10AM rolled around I went forth and taught - with the mental help of my teachers and classmates.
Apparently it was a pretty good class.
The focus this weekend was on the yoga sutras, taught by the wonderful Edwin Bryant. The long (four hour?) sessions were even attended by an NYC ashtanga studio co-owner whom I remember seeing in Mysore last year (of course she did not remember me. They never do).
I didn't start feeling better until Saturday night's Maha Sadhana (a three-hour class with Dharma that includes pranayama, chanting, and various Psychic Development techniques).
Sunday's three back-to-back-classes were doable - although I was still dizzy and tired. I think I've had this ear infection for months - which would explain the ear pain that never went away - and it's not leaving quietly.
Of course my plane home was delayed. Only 45 minuts this time.
On Monday I was so tired I was nauseous.
We'll see how today goes.....
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
NO SLEEP TIL GRAMMERCY
I have to fly today to NYC for Phase II of the 500 hour teacher training with Dharma Mittra.
The airline makes you fly today even if you have a doctor's note telling them you need to fly tomorrow, when it's certain the ear infection is no longer at the acute stage and will not explode mid-flight.
To change the ticket would have cost $800-plus.
How lovely it would have been to have one. complete. day. of. rest. before diving into four 15-hour days of teacher training.
To top it off this early morning ashtangi is on the cleanup crew (which doesn't start cleaning til everyone leaves - and these people loooooooooooooooooooooooooove to linger).
Oh, well.....
I have to fly today to NYC for Phase II of the 500 hour teacher training with Dharma Mittra.
The airline makes you fly today even if you have a doctor's note telling them you need to fly tomorrow, when it's certain the ear infection is no longer at the acute stage and will not explode mid-flight.
To change the ticket would have cost $800-plus.
How lovely it would have been to have one. complete. day. of. rest. before diving into four 15-hour days of teacher training.
To top it off this early morning ashtangi is on the cleanup crew (which doesn't start cleaning til everyone leaves - and these people loooooooooooooooooooooooooove to linger).
Oh, well.....
Monday, March 03, 2008
CACALOCKS AND THE THREE PHARMACIES
I saw the doctor today.
She said I have an ear infection and a throat infection that are rapidly mushrooming into a sinus infection.
She gave me a 'scrip for some medication.
I asked the assistant if she would phone in the presciption so I wouldn't have to wait in a long line.
Nope.
I drove to Pharmacy A.
One person was in line ahead of me.
He did not know which prescription he needed to fill.
After several minutes the pharmacist told him she could not decide for him.
She said she would print out a list of the medications he's taking, and he could choose from the list.
I as so feverish and fatigued at this point that I sat down on the floor.
Ten minutes later the pharmacist produced a list for him.
It was FOUR PAGES LONG.
He took it and skulked off.
Then it was my turn.
I scraped myself up off the floor, and leaned on the counter.
First the pharmacist clarified the spelling of my name.
Then she wrote down my date of birth.
Only then did she tell me that the computer was down, and it would be "at least a few hours" before my prescription was filled.
I said I'd go elsewhere, and fled.
Now, I had the chills.....
I drove two miles to Pharmacy B.
Four people were in line ahead of me.
After five minutes the line hadn't moved, so I sat down on the floor. I was feverish again.
Five minutes later the line still had not moved.
I scraped myself up off the floor, made my way out of the store and got in my car.
I drove three miles to Pharmacy C.
There was no line.
But the pharmacist could not find my name in the computer.
I told her several different ways to spell it.
Finally she located it.
"Twenty minutes," she said.
During that 20 minutes I learned that my only possible sub for tonight's class cannot cover for me, as she is suffering from the same infection I have.
(I also learned that the silver ballet flats I like are on sale for just $14.99).
Twenty minutes later I went back and voila! the scrip was filled. For $37.00. Out of pocket.
Now, if only I could muster the energy to find subs for tomorrow's four classes.
I actually got a note from the doctor saying that I cannot teach today or tomorrow.
I should also have gotten her to write that "The above named is far too sick to make scores of stress-inducing sub calls and should stay in bed and rest."
Oh, to have a normal job where one simply calls in sick and is paid for taking the day off and does not have to find subs and has insurance and the visit to the doctor is a simple $10 copay......
Of course that normal job wouldn't allow for endless teacher trainings and regular trips to India, would it?
Sunday, March 02, 2008
THE LOQUAT TAUGHT THE CLASS
What are the ethics regarding teaching when ill?
If an instructor is trying to follow the Yamas and Niyamas, shouldn't they abide by ahimsa (non-harming) and try not to infect their students with whatever it is they have?
And shouldn't they refrain from harming themselves by teaching when they feel sick?
Yet I've had studio owners tell me to teach anyway, because I hadn't given 24 hours notice. I was told that if I stayed home, they could dock me $40.
Yesterday I fell ill rather quickly in the afternoon; by 5PM I knew I shouldn't teach my three Sunday classes. With a great sense of guilt and trepidation, I started making calls.
Two classes got subbed out rather quicky (one, thankfully, was at a health club where they find your subs for you).
I was not so lucky with the third.
I called all 13 people on the list - no small thing when you can barely speak.
Three people actually picked up their phones and said no.
I left a message for the others, asking them to call back either way. I told them they could call as late as they wanted.
Two sent texts: can't do it.
I phoned the group exercise coordinator and left a voicemail telling her which teachers could not do it. I suggested I'd do it if no one else could.
An hour later my fever hit 101 and I started coughing up chunky pink sputnum.
The coughing was so deep and painful that I began to womit.
I was so dizzy I could barely make it to the toilet.
Later, when I'd righted myself, I called the group ex coordinator and told her that there was no way I could teach in the morning.
I never heard back from her.
Or from the other six yoga teachers on the sub list.
All night I had nightmares about teaching the class.
Yet this morning my sense of dharma(duty) kicked in.
First I fortified myself with chai and ibuprofen and honey loquat.
Honey Loquat is a traditional Chinese concoction that you drink like cough syrup. It provides instant relief the moment it hits the throat. It is by far the most effective remedy I've ever encountered for throat / lung pain. (I heard about it from another yoga teacher, David Wallin; you can find it online and at health food stores).
I also took a bath. Saucha (cleanliness) and all that.
And boy, was I dirty!
Then I went to teach the class.
Luckily I found a parking space right in front of the club.
I took the elevator up, to conserve my flagging energy.
Ten people came to class.
I told them I was under the weather and would be giving verbal rather than tactile adjustments, since I didn't want to infect them if I did indeed have something.
Of course there was a new person who needed me to demonstrate every single vinyasa and every single pose - just the thing when you should be home in bed.
Somehow I got through the class.
Yet an hour into it I could barely speak, no matter how much water I drank. The throat was so messed up that the eyes began to tear like I was crying.
The students got a very long sit and an even longer savasana.
I promised them more energy the next time I teach.
I still haven't heard from the group ex person, which is really out of character.
Could it be that she's sick, too?
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
DHARMA MUMS
Part of our homework for Dharma Mittra's teacher training involves teaching free yoga classes.
Last Tuesday I started a series of four Dharma Mittra Level I classes in Oak Park.
During the class, I play a CD of Sanskrit devotional music - just as they do at Dharma's NYC studio.
Ten people came; one was brand-new to yoga, while others were hardcore ashtangis who'd taken the previous primary series class.
Apparently the ashtangis liked the chance to slow down, if you believe their feedback forms.
Among the things they liked:
"Slow moving"
"Unfamiliar"
"Accessible"
"Music"
"Being able to close eyes"
"The fluid nature of the movements"
"Holding the poses for longer"
"Different poses from my usual class"
"The simplicity and ease of each pose"
"Could do poses at whatever level you were comfortable"
"The opportunity to close my eyes and focus inwardly."
One of the newbies actually blogged about it; her post is here.
For more info on the free class click here.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
ALWAYS THE LAST TO KNOW
Thank G-d for hairdressers.....
This vegetarian restaurant reviewer for YOGA/Chicago recently learned that Evanston is home to a new vegan soul food restaurant, which opened at the end of last month.
It's by the wonderful people who do Soul Vegetarian East on the South Side - which means they're serving some of the the tastiest, most comforting vegan food in the whole wide world.
(In fact the title for my review of the old place was Soul Vegetarian East; Decadent Vegan Cuisine (That’s not an Oxymoron) .
The new place is called Life, and it's at 1601 Simpson St. in Northweast Evanston (847-869-6379). They're open Sunday - Thursday 6AM-9PM, Fridays from 6-3 and Saturdays from 6PM-12AM (it's run by the African Hebrew Israelites of Jerusalem, and hence they're closed on the Shabbat).
I can't wait to go.
More here and here.
---------
PS
The image is not their menu, but that of a similar establishment.
Friday, February 22, 2008
NINE LIVES
Yesterday would have been my mother's 78th birthday....
Today I heard through the grapevine that Guruji has not been seen in the shala, and may be on around-the-clock care....
My cat-activist friend Deb recently dug up the following obit, which I wrote seven years ago....
FRITZKA T. KATZ (nee Cacananda), August 1987 to June 7, 2001
Fritzka T. Katz, 14 (that’s 70 to you and me), died in the hospital on June 7, 2001 after fluid in the lungs, most likely the result of a tumor, cause her to go into respiratory failure. Her cat mom was holding her when she passed.
Fritzka was the sweetest, softest, best cat in the world, and many songs were written in her honor. If more people had known about her, there would have been long lines to see her. On her second-to-last trip to the vet, several strangers peered into her carrier to inquire about the “beautiful, wee cat” and were surprised to learn that she was a dowager with only four teeth to her name (although more discerning fans, including performance artist and filmmaker Brigid Murphy, knew right-off that she was a grand dame of the old school).
Fritzka was born at Tree House in Uptown, where she was known as Franzia and lived in the office with her late, great littermate, Snarfee (nee Spumante) and an unnamed sibling whose whereabouts are unknown. After climbing onto prospective cat-owner Tim Hurley’s shoulder on March 4, 1988 and chewing on his hair, she was adopted by the rock star-to-be and her cat-mom, Caca.
Her many nicknames included Kitskin, Birdsong, Songbird, Eena, The Fritzkinest Kitzka, Little Miss Cat-Food-Naow, Toe-Cute, Princess Stinkybottom, Blackmouth and Kitty-Cat Mauser.
Although she liked to make guttural mewing sounds at birds and flies, Fritzka was not enamored of the great outdoors, and when she ventured forth it was with great crouching, sniffing and hesitation. She craved heat and enjoyed sitting in the sun. In the early days, when it was cold, she would sit with Snarfee on the stove above the pilot light. In later years, she would take a seat under the desk lamp, next to the computer; or on the modem or VCR. On particularly bitter winter days, she sat in front of the radiator and waited patiently for it to come to life.
She also loved affection, and enjoyed strewing her food all over the place. Sometimes her waste stuck to her bottom, which caused vigorous kicking of the hind legs, not to mention many artistic creations (including one particularly elusive and odiferous installation on the refrigerator door). She invented poo strings and poo poo paw printing and could clear a room with her output in less than 30 seconds.
A letter of hers was published in NewCity in 1994. She had her own E-mail address, doorbell and mailbox, and was admired by not one, but two of Nick Cave's Bad Seeds. She occasionally did consulting and voiceover work.
She was a paper-sitter who liked to rub her lips on plants and bike spokes, play with dental floss and roll on her back in the bathtub. Her favorite snack items were basil olive oil, soy margarine, macaroni and cheese, pancakes and certain baby food. She drank exclusively from the toilet.
When she liked a song – such as the Velvet Underground’s slower anthems – or a person, she’d roll on her back as if she were a grub, and sometimes would get so carried away that she’d smack her head on the floor. She was a top-notch player of Get Caca, Fake Bird and The Door Game, and could jump two feet in the air. She spent many a happy hour burrowing her nose into the elbows or armpits of the lucky few she allowed to get close to her. She did not like children.
Fritzka is survived by her cat-mom Caca, who is devastated by her loss; her beloved surrogate parents Doug and Natasha; her estranged cat-dad Tim, and countless friends and fans.
According to longtime yoga teacher Suddha Weixler, who knows about such things, she has already come back as “something even more beautiful.”
Yesterday would have been my mother's 78th birthday....
Today I heard through the grapevine that Guruji has not been seen in the shala, and may be on around-the-clock care....
My cat-activist friend Deb recently dug up the following obit, which I wrote seven years ago....
FRITZKA T. KATZ (nee Cacananda), August 1987 to June 7, 2001
Fritzka T. Katz, 14 (that’s 70 to you and me), died in the hospital on June 7, 2001 after fluid in the lungs, most likely the result of a tumor, cause her to go into respiratory failure. Her cat mom was holding her when she passed.
Fritzka was the sweetest, softest, best cat in the world, and many songs were written in her honor. If more people had known about her, there would have been long lines to see her. On her second-to-last trip to the vet, several strangers peered into her carrier to inquire about the “beautiful, wee cat” and were surprised to learn that she was a dowager with only four teeth to her name (although more discerning fans, including performance artist and filmmaker Brigid Murphy, knew right-off that she was a grand dame of the old school).
Fritzka was born at Tree House in Uptown, where she was known as Franzia and lived in the office with her late, great littermate, Snarfee (nee Spumante) and an unnamed sibling whose whereabouts are unknown. After climbing onto prospective cat-owner Tim Hurley’s shoulder on March 4, 1988 and chewing on his hair, she was adopted by the rock star-to-be and her cat-mom, Caca.
Her many nicknames included Kitskin, Birdsong, Songbird, Eena, The Fritzkinest Kitzka, Little Miss Cat-Food-Naow, Toe-Cute, Princess Stinkybottom, Blackmouth and Kitty-Cat Mauser.
Although she liked to make guttural mewing sounds at birds and flies, Fritzka was not enamored of the great outdoors, and when she ventured forth it was with great crouching, sniffing and hesitation. She craved heat and enjoyed sitting in the sun. In the early days, when it was cold, she would sit with Snarfee on the stove above the pilot light. In later years, she would take a seat under the desk lamp, next to the computer; or on the modem or VCR. On particularly bitter winter days, she sat in front of the radiator and waited patiently for it to come to life.
She also loved affection, and enjoyed strewing her food all over the place. Sometimes her waste stuck to her bottom, which caused vigorous kicking of the hind legs, not to mention many artistic creations (including one particularly elusive and odiferous installation on the refrigerator door). She invented poo strings and poo poo paw printing and could clear a room with her output in less than 30 seconds.
A letter of hers was published in NewCity in 1994. She had her own E-mail address, doorbell and mailbox, and was admired by not one, but two of Nick Cave's Bad Seeds. She occasionally did consulting and voiceover work.
She was a paper-sitter who liked to rub her lips on plants and bike spokes, play with dental floss and roll on her back in the bathtub. Her favorite snack items were basil olive oil, soy margarine, macaroni and cheese, pancakes and certain baby food. She drank exclusively from the toilet.
When she liked a song – such as the Velvet Underground’s slower anthems – or a person, she’d roll on her back as if she were a grub, and sometimes would get so carried away that she’d smack her head on the floor. She was a top-notch player of Get Caca, Fake Bird and The Door Game, and could jump two feet in the air. She spent many a happy hour burrowing her nose into the elbows or armpits of the lucky few she allowed to get close to her. She did not like children.
Fritzka is survived by her cat-mom Caca, who is devastated by her loss; her beloved surrogate parents Doug and Natasha; her estranged cat-dad Tim, and countless friends and fans.
According to longtime yoga teacher Suddha Weixler, who knows about such things, she has already come back as “something even more beautiful.”
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
AMBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!****
Eat it and weep.....
This is the full-length version of the undercover Humane Society video, which shows the unspeakably cruel treatment of cows at the Hallmark/Westland Meat Packing Company. It's the long version of the video that's been making the news, and which prompted the recall of 143 million pounds of beef.
What the media doesn't say is that the downed cows in the video had already spent their entire lives in awful conditions - why do you think they can't stand up? - giving milk and producing calves that stayed with them a single day before being shipped off to live out their entire lives getting fattened up in a tiny box before they, too, were slaughtered.
In the video, one of the cows had massive streams of water sprayed up its nose, so she (all of these were females, by the way) would think she was drowning and muster all her remaining fight-or-flight energy and stand up.
Others of course were shocked with cattle prods (which really, really does hurt; these very same cattle prods were used on humans by both Saddam Hussein's Republican Guard and certain stepmothers** we know).
I grew up on a farm with cows - and never, ever heard them scream like they do in the video.
It's hard to believe that so little has changed since Upton Sinclair wrote The Jungle in 1906.
Even sadder is the fact that people are more upset about the prospect of children getting Mad Cow-burgers in their school lunch than the cruel treatment of their fellow creatures.
But at least they might think twice now about eating meat.
And maybe they'll finally realize where it comes from.
Kudos to the Humane Society.
You can make a donation to them by clicking here. There's more video here.
The Humane Society is also spearheading a campaign to stop the US Department of Agriculture from adopting a horrifyingly low standard for meat products that carry a "naturally raised" label. The standard appears to be a marketing gimmick that would not address housing, diet or physical alterations such as branding, dehorning, and tail docking. You can learn more, and fire off a letter (before Feb 27), by clicking here.
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*In America, we think cows say "Moo!" In India (or at least Mysore) - where cows are treated with less cruelty - they think the cows say "Ambaa!"
**Ours was kept in the corner next to the china cabinet - within easy reach in case someone misbehaved.
Eat it and weep.....
This is the full-length version of the undercover Humane Society video, which shows the unspeakably cruel treatment of cows at the Hallmark/Westland Meat Packing Company. It's the long version of the video that's been making the news, and which prompted the recall of 143 million pounds of beef.
What the media doesn't say is that the downed cows in the video had already spent their entire lives in awful conditions - why do you think they can't stand up? - giving milk and producing calves that stayed with them a single day before being shipped off to live out their entire lives getting fattened up in a tiny box before they, too, were slaughtered.
In the video, one of the cows had massive streams of water sprayed up its nose, so she (all of these were females, by the way) would think she was drowning and muster all her remaining fight-or-flight energy and stand up.
Others of course were shocked with cattle prods (which really, really does hurt; these very same cattle prods were used on humans by both Saddam Hussein's Republican Guard and certain stepmothers** we know).
I grew up on a farm with cows - and never, ever heard them scream like they do in the video.
It's hard to believe that so little has changed since Upton Sinclair wrote The Jungle in 1906.
Even sadder is the fact that people are more upset about the prospect of children getting Mad Cow-burgers in their school lunch than the cruel treatment of their fellow creatures.
But at least they might think twice now about eating meat.
And maybe they'll finally realize where it comes from.
Kudos to the Humane Society.
You can make a donation to them by clicking here. There's more video here.
The Humane Society is also spearheading a campaign to stop the US Department of Agriculture from adopting a horrifyingly low standard for meat products that carry a "naturally raised" label. The standard appears to be a marketing gimmick that would not address housing, diet or physical alterations such as branding, dehorning, and tail docking. You can learn more, and fire off a letter (before Feb 27), by clicking here.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*In America, we think cows say "Moo!" In India (or at least Mysore) - where cows are treated with less cruelty - they think the cows say "Ambaa!"
**Ours was kept in the corner next to the china cabinet - within easy reach in case someone misbehaved.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
YOGA + CHOCOLATE = BETTER THAN TV
Chocolate was everywhere on Thursday - Valentine's Day.
Trader Joe's was giving away three types of rather excellent dark chocolate truffles - I limited myself to just two - and later in the day Mr. Kotter and I shared Mohr Im Hemd (Hot Molten Chocolate Cake) at Julius Meinl (Austrian desserts are particularly dear to me because they're not oversweetened).
Chocolate was also all over public radio that day. Marketplace aired a wonderfully riveting piece about master chocolate taster Chloé Doutre-Roussel.
From the start, it was clear that she is more than just a globetrotting chocolate whisperer with an exquisite sense of smell (she was born in South America and raised in France, which explains her rather charming turn of phrase):
"When I was 14 I started to taste chococolate to find the best pleasure out of my pocket money...and I realized that when I was concentrating into the tasting of one chocolate, I felt the complexity, the intensivity, and that it was much more interesting than watching TV."
When I heard the next bit I sat up straight and thought, "OhMyGawd, she's also a yogi!"
"I have applied this theory of listening to my body to listening to my needs for rest, or where I want to go for holiday, or if I want to be with this person or not."
"When you do things that are not in tune with you, not only is it a waste of time, but you also harm yourself."
Jon Miller, the reporter, also stated that, "She told me about her desire to have a family and about the toll her constant traveling was taking on her body. We talked about her ongoing effort to reconcile her love of luxury with her arguably stronger love of austerity and quiet. She said she knew that chocolate isn't the most important thing on earth. But it's something she cares about, and something she knows about, and somewhere she can make a difference."
Definitely a yogi.
Her website is here.
Friday, February 15, 2008
LOVE ME, LOVE MY DIET
Thursday's New York Times has a piece about couples whose eating habits just aren't compatible.
You know - he eats meat, she's raw-vegan.
They're called "interdietary couples" -- which conjures up images of multicolored aliens.
The topic has allowed the writer to employ conceits such as "vegangelical" and "Man does not love by bread alone."
Some excerpts:
Ben Abdalla, 42, a real estate agent in Boca Raton, Fla., said he preferred to date fellow vegetarians because meat eaters smell bad and have low energy.
Lisa Romano, 31, a vegan and school psychologist in Belleville, N.Y., said she recently ended a relationship with a man who enjoyed backyard grilling. He had no problem searing her vegan burgers alongside his beef patties, but she found the practice unenlightened and disturbing.
Her disapproval “would have become an issue later even if it wasn’t in the beginning,” Ms. Romano said. “I need someone who is ethically on the same page.”
While some eaters may elevate morality above hedonism, others are suspicious of anyone who does not give in to the pleasure principle.
June Deadrick, 40, a lobbyist in Houston, said she would have a hard time loving a man who did not share her fondness for multicourse meals including wild game and artisanal cheeses. “And I’m talking cheese from a cow, not that awful soy stuff,” she said.
The full article is here.
I prefer not to date meat-eaters - especially if they consume it in my presence.
And I certainly won't buy dinner if it includes something dead on their plate.
Even worse are those who attack my reasons for being meat-free since '87. Do I attack you for believing in Jeebus?
(Those of you who call yourselves yogis and still eat meat should read this article, called "No Yama, No Yoga." Yoga students who are not making "progress" or feel stuck in their practice should also consider cutting back on the meat intake. Fish, by the way, is not a vegetable. Nor are eggs.).
By the way, being meat-free has a long history even in the West:
The Greek philosopher Pythagoras, famous for his contributions to geometry and mathematics, strongly believed in the reincarnation of the soul and preached an ethical lifestyle that included injunctions against killing living creatures, whether through animal sacrifice or for the eating of meat. His proscribed diet was very close to today’s vegan diet, and attracted two different classes of adherents. One group, an elite group who studied directly under Pythagoras called mathematikoi ("mathematicians" followed an extremely restricted regimen, eating only cereals, bread, honey, fruits and some vegetables. A larger group of followers called the akousmatikoi ("listeners" who attended lectures by the philosopher were allowed to eat meat and drink wine, but were required to abstain on certain days.
According to historical documents, Pythagoras told his followers, "Oh, my fellow men! Do not defile your bodies with sinful foods. We have corn, we have apples bending down the branches with their weight, and grapes swelling on the vines. There are sweet-flavored herbs, and vegetables which can be cooked and softened over the fire, nor are you denied milk or thyme-scented honey. The earth affords a lavish supply of riches, of innocent foods, and offers you banquets that involve no bloodshed or slaughter: only beasts satisfy their hunger with flesh, and not even all of those, because horses, cattle, and sheep live on grass." His biographer, Diogenes, wrote that Pythagoras ate millet or barley bread and honeycomb in the morning and raw vegetables at night, and that he paid fisherman to throw their catches back into the ocean.
It's almost enough to make a girl want to study philosophy - since Hippocrates, Socrates, Plato, Seneca, Ovid and Virgil also advocated vegetarian diets.
Almost.
Learn more about becoming veg here.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
INDIAN (H)AIRLINES VS THE FLAVA SAVA
from the BBC today:
Apparently his muzzy is a health risk.
But wait - there's more.
The full article is here
Sparks' "Moustache" lyrics here. The more subtly handsome brother in the band (ie; the one in the video) sported that short, Hitlery moustache for much of his career.
from the BBC today:
India court in moustache notice
India's Supreme Court has issued a notice to a state-run airline asking it to explain why an air steward was sacked for wearing a big moustache.
Victor Joynath De was grounded by Indian - formerly called Indian Airlines- in 2001 for refusing to shave off his handlebar moustache.
He had earlier lost a case in a lower court which ruled that the airline was within its rights to sack him.
According to Indian rules, all crew members should be clean shaven.
A moustache, if worn, should not extend beyond the upper lip, says the rule book.
The guidelines do not apply to Sikh employees who are allowed to keep moustaches.
Apparently his muzzy is a health risk.
Mr De's brush with his employers began in 2001 when the airline argued that his prized asset was a health risk, especially with him frequently handling food.
But wait - there's more.
The spokesman said that some passengers could be unnerved by such a striking facial feature.
At the time of his grounding, Mr De said he was proud of his moustache which had taken 25 years to grow and now stretches prominently across both cheekbones.....
He is a member of London's famous Handlebar Club, which has campaigned against his sacking.
The full article is here
Sparks' "Moustache" lyrics here. The more subtly handsome brother in the band (ie; the one in the video) sported that short, Hitlery moustache for much of his career.
Monday, February 11, 2008
DAS MODELL*
The first weekend of teacher training was amazing. Who doesn't like seeing her guru(s) and doing as many as three yoga classes a day, talking about yoga and the Bhagavad Gita and the Sutras and anatomy and Pranayama and Mantra and Asana and spending five hours five feet away from Krishna Das and meeting a fellow student who goes by the name "Cell Phone?"
But all good things must end (for a few weeks anyway).
Last night my flight home was delayed two hours; I got into Chicago around Midnight.
The windchill was -30.
I greeted the cat, stowed my stuff, took a bath, and went to sleep.
This morning I got up at 5AM and dumped out my suitcase. Then I filled it with clothes for a photo shoot, and downloaded directions to it. I ate and dressed for my 6:30 class.
Despite thw windchill, the car started. It's a Honda.
I taught Dharma's Level I class as usual. But could only remember one of the new changes and made sure to add it; an "easy" varation on Parvritta Parsvakonasana that's a lot harder than it looks (both the Level I and Level II sequences have changed a little bit from last year - in a good way).
Afterwards I headed to the three-hour shoot at Essanay**on Goose Island.
My mother was a model, and this was my chance to feel like it was to be her for a moment.
I liked the shoot more than I wanted to - although I suspect that being a runway / print / TV model for Marshall Field's, et al in the 1950's was a lot of hard work + very little glamour. She used to take the train in from McHenry, and would read science fiction novels to while away the time. When she told the other models that we'd one day be walking on the moon, they thought she was loca.
Funny - the stylist didn't choose any of the outfits I'd brought. It probably didn't help that I don't know what "business casual" means or own a suit with pants. Plus while putting my things away I realized that all of my yoga teaching togs are pilled and frayed.
I really enjoyed being fed and fussed over; it made me re-parented again.
Plus everyone was so nice.
I don't think I've ever worn that much make up at one time.
Or made that much money.
Anyway, I may be appearing in an Aleve advert soon in a magazine near you. As the letter Z or E or B or I - or even Y.
And the photog may be appearing in a yoga class near you.
***
*Watch the video: Does it not look like these guys are contestants on a game show?
**Chicago's original Essanay Studio is where Charlie Chaplan got his start.
The first weekend of teacher training was amazing. Who doesn't like seeing her guru(s) and doing as many as three yoga classes a day, talking about yoga and the Bhagavad Gita and the Sutras and anatomy and Pranayama and Mantra and Asana and spending five hours five feet away from Krishna Das and meeting a fellow student who goes by the name "Cell Phone?"
But all good things must end (for a few weeks anyway).
Last night my flight home was delayed two hours; I got into Chicago around Midnight.
The windchill was -30.
I greeted the cat, stowed my stuff, took a bath, and went to sleep.
This morning I got up at 5AM and dumped out my suitcase. Then I filled it with clothes for a photo shoot, and downloaded directions to it. I ate and dressed for my 6:30 class.
Despite thw windchill, the car started. It's a Honda.
I taught Dharma's Level I class as usual. But could only remember one of the new changes and made sure to add it; an "easy" varation on Parvritta Parsvakonasana that's a lot harder than it looks (both the Level I and Level II sequences have changed a little bit from last year - in a good way).
Afterwards I headed to the three-hour shoot at Essanay**on Goose Island.
My mother was a model, and this was my chance to feel like it was to be her for a moment.
I liked the shoot more than I wanted to - although I suspect that being a runway / print / TV model for Marshall Field's, et al in the 1950's was a lot of hard work + very little glamour. She used to take the train in from McHenry, and would read science fiction novels to while away the time. When she told the other models that we'd one day be walking on the moon, they thought she was loca.
Funny - the stylist didn't choose any of the outfits I'd brought. It probably didn't help that I don't know what "business casual" means or own a suit with pants. Plus while putting my things away I realized that all of my yoga teaching togs are pilled and frayed.
(Bonus Flashback scene from my Audition:
PERSON WITH CLIPBOARD: Who is your agent?
ME: What?
PC: Your agent. Who is your agent?
ME: There's no agent. There's just me.
PC: ?
ME: I'm an actual yoga person.
Every beatifully-shaped, perfectly coiffed head in the room whips around and stares at the woman with the wild grey hair.
VERY PRETTY MODEL; Ooo-ooh, look out for her)
I really enjoyed being fed and fussed over; it made me re-parented again.
Plus everyone was so nice.
I don't think I've ever worn that much make up at one time.
Or made that much money.
Anyway, I may be appearing in an Aleve advert soon in a magazine near you. As the letter Z or E or B or I - or even Y.
And the photog may be appearing in a yoga class near you.
***
*Watch the video: Does it not look like these guys are contestants on a game show?
**Chicago's original Essanay Studio is where Charlie Chaplan got his start.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
SNOW DAY!!
It turns out that we're in the middle of a full-blown Nor'easter; they're predicting up to 12 inches of snow before 6PM.
In Chicago there are strong winds and freezing pellets.
Dreyfus says there are whiteout conditions where he lives; the snow is actually horizontal.
Neither he nor Mrs. Drey went to work today.
Midway airport is closed, and some 500 flights at O'Hare have been cancelled.
But not my 11:45AM flight.
When it was time to leave for the airport, I could not make myself move. I thought, "Why go all the way there, and then find out the flight is delayed and I can't plug in my laptop because all the outlets are taken."
So I sought the advice of Gridlife the Air Travel Answer Man.
He asked if it was urgent that I get there today. Nope; the teacher training starts tomorrow morning at 11:15. The plan was to fly in a day early and spend the afternoon hanging out with Catsey - and possibly take in a B'way show in the evening.
Gridlife said that when the weather is this bad, and the travel isn't urgent, the airlines sometimes allow travellers to rebook for the following day.
I called AA and waited. And waited.
Finally someone answered.
Calmly and politely, I made my case.
It worked!
The nice lady booked me on tomorrow's 6AM flight, arriving at LaGuardia at 9.
"Now you can put your pajamas back on, and enjoy the rest of your day," she said.
No problem - except I'd never taken them off (Chicago is, after all, the hometown of pajama-wearing Playboy magazine founder Hugh Hefner).
Hopefully I'll have enough time to take a cab to Manhattan, purchase tissues and a gallon of water (which everyone is requested to bring to the first day of the intensive, along with a box of herbal tea - which I already have), sign in, say hello, and find mat space for Dharma's noon Level IV class.
There's nothing like doing a thousand Forearm Balances (see photo) three hours after getting off a plane....
In the meantime I'm pleased as punch to have an entire day to clean the house, catch up on phone calls and play with Kirby -- instead of spending it at the airport waiting in long lines for burnt coffee and stale sandwiches, and wishing my laptop's batteries had lasted long enough to make it all the way through Chalte Chalte.
Thank you, Gridlife!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Gridlife also recommends taking a three-plug adapter to the airport, so that more people can plug their laptops into the few outlets that are available. I'd actually planned on bringing a six-plug power strip before I changed my flight today.
Photo of Satya C by Amy Dean
ORD
I'm supposed to fly to NYC today for teacher training with Dharma Mittra.
There is freezing rain and high winds.
And a new moon.
They're predicting five to 12 inches of snow between now and 6PM.
The plane is scheduled to leave at 11:45.
Five hundred flights have already been cancelled.
But so far there's been no call or text regarding my particular flight.
I think I'll bring the computer and some DVDs to the airport with me.
And leftover Thai food and Paczki.
And a blanket.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
SNOW ETIQUETTE
1. If you're out walking and you come across a car that is stuck and spinning its wheels, stop and offer help. Do not keep walking.
2. If it's the day after a heavy snow and no one has shoveled yet and you're a big, strong man wearing big, strong weatherproof boots and walking on a narrow footpath and you see someone coming towards you from the other direction, give way. Do not turn it into a game of snow-chicken.
3. If you are shoveling out your car, do not be a lazy sod and throw the snow into the street. This creates a hazard for everyone and makes you the worst kind of civic bad sport. Even if you are a petite person with zero upper body strength and no hat or gloves and a massive sense of entitlement, the snow belongs between the sidewalk and the curb.
4. If you shovel out a parking space on the street, it is not yours to keep. No matter how hard you worked, the street is public property. No. More. Dibs.
5. If you shovel an extra spot, there will be space for everyone - including the elderly humplimpett down the hall. Plus you will receive extra credit in your karmic bank account.
1. If you're out walking and you come across a car that is stuck and spinning its wheels, stop and offer help. Do not keep walking.
2. If it's the day after a heavy snow and no one has shoveled yet and you're a big, strong man wearing big, strong weatherproof boots and walking on a narrow footpath and you see someone coming towards you from the other direction, give way. Do not turn it into a game of snow-chicken.
3. If you are shoveling out your car, do not be a lazy sod and throw the snow into the street. This creates a hazard for everyone and makes you the worst kind of civic bad sport. Even if you are a petite person with zero upper body strength and no hat or gloves and a massive sense of entitlement, the snow belongs between the sidewalk and the curb.
4. If you shovel out a parking space on the street, it is not yours to keep. No matter how hard you worked, the street is public property. No. More. Dibs.
5. If you shovel an extra spot, there will be space for everyone - including the elderly humplimpett down the hall. Plus you will receive extra credit in your karmic bank account.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
YOGA* IS EVERYWHERE -
INCLUDING PRIME-TIME TV
I had some strange new TV show on in the background while I was working tonight.
No, it wasn't Lost.
It was Eli Stone.
I wasn't paying much attention but I caught bits and pieces; the protagonist is a hard-nosed lawyer who keeps hearing George Michael's "Faith" in his head; suddenly he starts seeing signs and doing pro bono work and visiting an acupuncturist - who tells him that God is everywhere.
Next thing you know, he wins the case against the evil vaccine manufacturer, makes peace with his long-dead father and is planning a trip to India.
More here.
*that would be union-with-God yoga, not foot-behind-the-head yoga.
* * *
How funny - the evening news just showed A Red Orchid Theatre artistic director Guy Van Swearingen shoveling snow in front of the theater - like he's just another blue collar guy (actually, he's also a full-time firefighter). You just don't get that kind of dichotomy in NYC. Ah, Chicago....
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
FAIR IS FOUL
AND FOUL IS FAIR
The Washington Post recently ran a piece called, "In India's huge marketplace, fair skin sells."
It discusses how Eastern European models with dark hair and light skin are being featured in Indian adverts.
"Indians have a longing for that pure, beautiful white skin. It is too deep-rooted in our psyche," said Enakshi Chakraborty, who heads Eskimo India, a modeling agency that brings East European models here. "Advertisers for international as well as Indian brands call me and say, 'We are looking for a gori [Hindi for white] model with dark hair.' Some ask, 'Do you have white girls who are Indian-looking?' They want white girls who suit the Indian palate."
Indians' color fixation is also evident in classified newspaper ads and on Web sites that help arrange marriages. The descriptive terms used for skin color run the gamut: "very fair," "fair," "wheat-ish," "wheat-ish-medium," "wheat-ish-dark," "dark" and "very dark."
Family elders here commonly comment on a newborn baby's color, after checking out the gender. One of the best-selling skin creams in India is called Fair & Lovely. A men's version, Fair and Handsome, was launched last year.
"The Indian mind-set prefers light skin. My pictures are routinely Photoshopped to make me look a bit lighter -- a lot lighter, actually," Riya Ray, 23, a dark-skinned Indian model, said with a laugh. "But when I work in Britain and France, my color is praised as exotic. It is a two-way trend: Indian models are going abroad, and foreign models are coming here."
I can't help but think of Raj, from my first trip in India back in 2002.
He made frequent trips between Mysore and Bangalore on his silver Honda Hero Super Special motorcycle, and was seriously thinking about getting a helmet.
To protect your head? I asked.
"No, Cadda. To protect face from sun."
Huh?
"So I do not become too dark."
Even Desi TJ - who's lived here for eight years - was concerned last month that his skin looked darker after two months in the Subcontinental sun.
Silly man. Doesn't he know that gori girls dig that sh-t?
Apparently not.
Click here for the full article.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
CHAI-IN'
I must say, it's fun to be a frigid hipster once in a blue moon.
After seeing Redmoon's surprisngly good Hunchback last night, we went for tea and talking instead of Heather McAdams' sold-out show at Hideout. It's such a relief to find out you're not the only one without prior knowledge of the Hunchback story. Plus walking around onstage and touching the puppets, contraptions, etc. and chatting to cast members after the performance conspire to make one feel childlike again. And it was snowing the entire evening.
Despite all that I couldn't sleep past 7:45 this morn, so I went to Mysore class with Suddha, who always attracts such a nice group. Marikay was there and afterwards we made plans to cross-country ski tomorrow afternoon - provided the snow hasn't melted.
After getting home I did my sitting and then called Ammu, who is in Bangalore working on a film. I started babbling to him about the incredible karma yogi Shashi Kapoor, and he told me that he'd been part of some big brothel scandal last year. I was aghast, and after we hung up I went online to see for myself. But I found no evidence of it. Nor did I find anything about the massive tsunami he said was poised to hit the US today....
I had a bath, put on Indian dress (with long underwear) and drove up to Devon to see Kirti and and overgraze her buffet with my editor. It was snowing again and of course I wore the wrong boots (the suede ones that look good but act like a sponge). We had Kirti's special homemade Gujarati chai both before and after lunch, so the conversation flew fast and furious.
Afterwards, still high on chai, I came home and worked on The Magnum Opus and homework and a restaurant review. Somewhere in there I called the grand-niece, who turned three today and received a purple Barbie bicycle to mark the occasion. Apparently she can't figure out how to pedal the thing. This information came from her father; turns out her phone attention span is even shorter than my own.
The chai is still animating me; rather than paying bills though, I think I'll stop and watch a bit of Muqaddar Ka Sikandar before hitting the sack. The soundtrack, by the way, is sublime.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
MAD ABOUT SHASHI
I've been sick the past few days, which has allowed me to catch up on sleep - and movies.
Make that Merchant-Ivory movies. Written by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala.
And starring the incredible Shashi Kapoor
First up was Shakespeare Wallah, about a touring British Shakespeare company playing to dwindling audiences in post-Raj India. The score was by none other than the great Bengali filmmaker Satyajit Ray.
Kapoor plays the playboy who falls for the daughter of the couple who run the touring company. She's played by Felicity Kendal - the younger sister of Kapoor's real-life wife, Jennifer.
Of course the playboy could not commit.
Next up was the first-ever Merchant-Ivory-Jhabvala production, The Householder.
In this one, Shashi Kapoor stars as an unhappy college lecturer in a new, unhappy marriage.
It was so depressing at first that I nearly shut it off. His character reminded me of the worst aspects of my (formerly negative) self.
But I stuck with it, and it paid off.
One hilarious scene had the straightlaced Kapoor visiting the home of some Bohemian American expats who love all things Indian. They kept hammering away at him: "What type of yoga do you do? Hatha? Bhakti? What type of yoga?" and he was, like, "What do you mean?" There's a similar sequence with a crazy western saddhu wannabe in Heat and Dust.
What is clear about these movies (and the M-I film Heat and Dust, in which Shashi plays a down-on-his-luck nawab who gets the firangi girl) is how much the filmmakers love India.
It's an interesting collaboration: James Ivory is an American Protestant, Ruth Prawer Jhabvala is a Eastern-European Jew, and Ismail Merchant is (was) an Indian Muslim. The Householder was the first feature for all of them. Merchant got the money together and did all of the lawyering, accounting, etc. Jhabvala wrote her first screenplay (in a mere two weeks) and her husband, an Indian architect, helped fund the film.
Ivory had only made documentaries before. They were using the crew usually employed by Satyajit Ray, and when they disembarked from the train with all of their gear Ivory was flummoxed - and had to pretend he knew what to do.
The films are stunningly beautiful, by the way.
Apparently Ray bailed them out again later, when they brought him their first edit.
He re-edited it, and Ivory kept what he did - adding just a single sequence.
My next M-I-J film will be Bombay Talkie - starring Shashi and Jennifer Kapoor as a mysogynist Bollywood film star and a rootless, needy writer. Hmmmmmm........
All of these films, by the way, are available on Netflix.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Apparently Shashi Kapoor swore off acting in 1992 and spends much of his time working with cancer patients).
Apparently he finally found his yoga: Karma Yoga.
I've been sick the past few days, which has allowed me to catch up on sleep - and movies.
Make that Merchant-Ivory movies. Written by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala.
And starring the incredible Shashi Kapoor
First up was Shakespeare Wallah, about a touring British Shakespeare company playing to dwindling audiences in post-Raj India. The score was by none other than the great Bengali filmmaker Satyajit Ray.
Kapoor plays the playboy who falls for the daughter of the couple who run the touring company. She's played by Felicity Kendal - the younger sister of Kapoor's real-life wife, Jennifer.
Of course the playboy could not commit.
Next up was the first-ever Merchant-Ivory-Jhabvala production, The Householder.
In this one, Shashi Kapoor stars as an unhappy college lecturer in a new, unhappy marriage.
It was so depressing at first that I nearly shut it off. His character reminded me of the worst aspects of my (formerly negative) self.
But I stuck with it, and it paid off.
One hilarious scene had the straightlaced Kapoor visiting the home of some Bohemian American expats who love all things Indian. They kept hammering away at him: "What type of yoga do you do? Hatha? Bhakti? What type of yoga?" and he was, like, "What do you mean?" There's a similar sequence with a crazy western saddhu wannabe in Heat and Dust.
What is clear about these movies (and the M-I film Heat and Dust, in which Shashi plays a down-on-his-luck nawab who gets the firangi girl) is how much the filmmakers love India.
It's an interesting collaboration: James Ivory is an American Protestant, Ruth Prawer Jhabvala is a Eastern-European Jew, and Ismail Merchant is (was) an Indian Muslim. The Householder was the first feature for all of them. Merchant got the money together and did all of the lawyering, accounting, etc. Jhabvala wrote her first screenplay (in a mere two weeks) and her husband, an Indian architect, helped fund the film.
Ivory had only made documentaries before. They were using the crew usually employed by Satyajit Ray, and when they disembarked from the train with all of their gear Ivory was flummoxed - and had to pretend he knew what to do.
The films are stunningly beautiful, by the way.
Apparently Ray bailed them out again later, when they brought him their first edit.
He re-edited it, and Ivory kept what he did - adding just a single sequence.
My next M-I-J film will be Bombay Talkie - starring Shashi and Jennifer Kapoor as a mysogynist Bollywood film star and a rootless, needy writer. Hmmmmmm........
All of these films, by the way, are available on Netflix.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Apparently Shashi Kapoor swore off acting in 1992 and spends much of his time working with cancer patients).
Apparently he finally found his yoga: Karma Yoga.
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