Monthly Archives: November 2008

Somewhere in the suryas, I heard a sparrow trapped in our rafters. No…on second chirp I located the little guy in the eves outside, just opposite a old white cube of a speaker mounted in a corner. My teacher caught me grinning, later, on an even bolder little birdsong, as I moved in to some […]

I. Got the best anonymous text message today: “I got the prana aligned right out of me in this workshop.” (If you achieve perfect alignment, will you go poof in samadhi?) II. Last week I met a friend at CityBakery for pumpkin pie. She said she’s always experienced me as vata to the nth degree, […]

I keep seeing the yoga mod squad tooling around Bentwood, a pride of golden lions at rest, bespectacled in oakleys and low-riding their surf shorts. They drive a screaming yellow new Land Cruiser, loaded with racks and mirrors and sporting a logo. "www.yogamatic.com: your custom yoga mat company" Fine. I just checket it out. They […]

Durvasasana is Pattabhi-drste, if I’m in range. I’m myopic, so this only works out on days I go for front row contorting, near the photograph centered up on the wall. (We are non-territorial people—different spots on different days as flexibility ethic.)  Today I was up close, a little to the left. Toss in to eka […]

The city’s on fire. This morning the sun was blood red coming up through the ash. There are two streams in the heavy air, pushed down from the mountains by Joan Didion’s Santa Anna winds (but montionless, eerie-still, outside my wall of windows). First is is a smell like life—the fast-living oxidation of brush fire. […]

Full moon ashtangi date: flow class in Venice and lunch next door at “Rawvolution.” Give me a break already: it’s a Wednesday; it’s gorgeous; I’m working from home and the full moon is strong on the tides of the Pacific and my hyperactivity. Also my companion’s been exiled to Florida for months, working the Obama […]

I’ve been not writing here, letting the hourly blog-sized thoughts walk on by. They are like deer. I like them, with their immature spots and testing-the-waters uncertainty, but when they whisper off again they deposit a steaming little turd to remind me they were here. I miss the Beartooth mountains. Because I did not make […]

I. Are you spiritual but not religious? Yes; No? By the way, what does this mean? II. Have your feelings changed about the possibilities of mixing spirituality and associational life? Have the internal and shared experiences of recent days been spiritually transformative for you–in part because bound up in organized, institutional life? IMAGE.