I had a dream last night that I was a character in Stephen King's The Dark Tower series. Those who've read know it's partially a story about the relationship between an author and his characters. My dream placed me at the end of the book, where I had to say goodbye to King as he left the world of the books and returned to Maine. I knew that, despite any attempts I might make, my narrative was complete, and my story was done.
At some point, the authors of your life will leave you behind. Or you will leave them behind. Some difference, no difference. It could be a girlfriend or an organization or a practice or anything. She will stop taking your calls or they will inform you that you services are no longer needed or you will no longer be able to do the asana. It is inevitable. Entropy comes for everyone.
And when you wake up from the nightmare, you realize that you have no author, or that everything is your author. Some difference, no difference. The story keeps going, and what you think is an ending is just a really sad part of the book.
Or a really happy one. Maybe if enough of your authors disappear, you can stop living narratives and start living reality.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Yoga Book Reports: The Complete Guide to Yin Yoga by Bernie Clark
I've done and loved a lot of yin yoga (thanks Andrea!), but before reading The Complete Guide to Yin Yoga by Bernie Clark, I never really understood why yin is so important or how it benefits the body. Perhaps my biggest misconception was the yin yoga was meant to be restorative. Clark popped that balloon by page 2. Yin is meant to stress ligaments, facia, and other tissue that yang practices (think the typical vinyasa class, ashtanga series, etc.) usually can't get at.
"Stress" is a big word to Clark. He writes that all tissue, not just muscle, needs some amount of stress to grow strong. The trick is that the stress one puts on ligaments, face and other yin-targeted tissue has to be even more careful than that placed on muscles in even the most deliberate practice. One simply can't "go for it" to get deeper into a pose that targets a knee ligament and expect anything but disaster. Type As need to lose their expectations.
As I have made the space in my life to reintegrate yin yoga into my practice, I've reflected on the relationship between restorative and yin. One can certainly do a yin class as restorative yoga, or one can pursue the gentle stress that Clark describes as the heart of yin. However, given the sensitivity of the tissue yin stresses, the relationship can't be either/or. One has to take a relaxed, inquisitive, careful approach, and Clark himself subscribes to the "if it feels good, you're doing it right" motto.
Either way, highly recommended read.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
In Defense of Duck Dynasty Dude (Sort Of)
Unless you think all speech against homosexuality is hate speech, there is nothing hateful about what dude said. Read for yourself. Robertson doesn't couple the standard insane comparisons to bestiality with language calling for a jihad against homosexuals. He's just a dude stating what he "knows" to be true.
I completely understand why people who agree with Robertson would be very, very upset that he is being punished. American pop culture has just made it crystal clear that they only want to see rural whites at their most buffoonish. Yes to an offensive caricature of rural life. Yes to dudes out in the wilderness taking all kinds of stupid risks. Yes to words with two syllables or less.
Sharing an opinion that challenges the dominant narrative? Shut the fuck up, redneck. We don't pay you to think or to have opinions. We pay you to be a stereotype that makes the dominant class say, wow, my life could be worse, I could be those guys.
Now get back to cooning.
I completely understand why people who agree with Robertson would be very, very upset that he is being punished. American pop culture has just made it crystal clear that they only want to see rural whites at their most buffoonish. Yes to an offensive caricature of rural life. Yes to dudes out in the wilderness taking all kinds of stupid risks. Yes to words with two syllables or less.
Sharing an opinion that challenges the dominant narrative? Shut the fuck up, redneck. We don't pay you to think or to have opinions. We pay you to be a stereotype that makes the dominant class say, wow, my life could be worse, I could be those guys.
Now get back to cooning.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Moving With Intention
Ran Prieur linked to a comment the other day on the myriad of ways we distract ourselves from the present. For the comment author, productivity was his distraction.
"I have a strong dislike against "wasting time." I don't like myself when I spend time on nonsense. And so I fill all of my day with "constructive things." My walk to work is filled with podcasts, the time waiting for the food to bake filled with news articles. While eating I entertain myself with shows or Ted talks or whatnot."
My distraction of choice is not so high-minded. I like to mess around on the Internet. I can't even be bothered to read a quarter of the articles I skim. I tweet and post to message boards without taking any time to consider what I am reacting to or formulating my own arguments. I flit from thing to thing without fully engaging in any of it. I am fully present for none of it, and the comment made me think that this pattern of behavior compromises my happiness.
My new intention is to move with purpose through both the "real" and virtual world. I am not at a place where I could fully unplug, nor do I want to. What I can do is to try to make sure I am fully present for everything I do in front of a computer. If I am writing a blog post, I need to concentrate on that blog post, and not rush over to Twitter or Okayplayer or wherever. No. Be with the blog post. Be fully with the blog post.
And, yeah, for those moments where I can't even remember why the computer is open, I'm going to try to close it.
"I have a strong dislike against "wasting time." I don't like myself when I spend time on nonsense. And so I fill all of my day with "constructive things." My walk to work is filled with podcasts, the time waiting for the food to bake filled with news articles. While eating I entertain myself with shows or Ted talks or whatnot."
My distraction of choice is not so high-minded. I like to mess around on the Internet. I can't even be bothered to read a quarter of the articles I skim. I tweet and post to message boards without taking any time to consider what I am reacting to or formulating my own arguments. I flit from thing to thing without fully engaging in any of it. I am fully present for none of it, and the comment made me think that this pattern of behavior compromises my happiness.
My new intention is to move with purpose through both the "real" and virtual world. I am not at a place where I could fully unplug, nor do I want to. What I can do is to try to make sure I am fully present for everything I do in front of a computer. If I am writing a blog post, I need to concentrate on that blog post, and not rush over to Twitter or Okayplayer or wherever. No. Be with the blog post. Be fully with the blog post.
And, yeah, for those moments where I can't even remember why the computer is open, I'm going to try to close it.
Monday, December 16, 2013
Letting Go
To let one's self go to the currents of the world is the path to liberation. To stop trying to force the world to be what one wants it to be and to surf on what actually is can free us all.
And for a recovering overachiever at Step One, it is completely terrifying.
And for a recovering overachiever at Step One, it is completely terrifying.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Yoga Is Yoga Is Not Something Else
Maybe you've seen them: the fawning profile of your favorite yogalebrity that grinds to a halt when the author asks said yogalebrity how her personal practice is surviving the rigors of traveling and teaching and such. The yogalebrity gets very, very wistful and admits the days where she puts in two hours of asana practice per day are over, but she assures us we need not worry for her. You see, she's found a NEW way to do yoga. Now, her teaching is her yoga. Her community service is her yoga. Her photo shoot to convince you to buy an eco-friendly mat and send your current mat to the landfill is her yoga.
It's all nonsense, of course.
Yoga is yoga is ONLY yoga. The only problem with that obvious statement is that it, too, is all nonsense. Yoga is made up of eight limbs, so to do say one "does yoga" is completely devoid of meaning. One might say that she practiced pranayama or asana or observed the yamas and the niyamas, but those phrases are aggregations as well. To say one "did" any of them is completely empty. The only thing you can practice is an individual thing, not a category. You can't even do downward dog. You can do THIS downward dog. The one you do in the moment. The one in the now. Your next downward dog will be something completely different that is united with the previous downward dog mostly by linguistic convention, not reality.
Yoga bleaching is real, and the worst form of yoga bleaching might be when one tries to substitute something else for an element of yoga. The practice of individual asanas confer a set of benefits that, by definition, can come only from the practice of asana. Meditation, and nothing else, confers the benefits of meditation. A thing is a thing, and nothing else is that thing.
Feel for the yogalebrity. She knows she is not practicing asana as she once did, and she misses it. Her attachments have gotten her all twisted up, and the tragedy is that she need not be. She has made her choice, and her choice is just fine. Other things are worth doing! Other things, like teaching and traveling and making enough money to not live in a van down by the river, offer their own rewards. If a mature adult weighs the rewards associated with an activity that necessitates she lessen her asana practice and finds that they outweight the costs, we should celebrate such enlightened decision making. Many paths to the top of the mountain and all, but lying to one's self about what one is and is not doing is a sure way to steer directly into oncoming traffic.
It's all nonsense, of course.
Yoga is yoga is ONLY yoga. The only problem with that obvious statement is that it, too, is all nonsense. Yoga is made up of eight limbs, so to do say one "does yoga" is completely devoid of meaning. One might say that she practiced pranayama or asana or observed the yamas and the niyamas, but those phrases are aggregations as well. To say one "did" any of them is completely empty. The only thing you can practice is an individual thing, not a category. You can't even do downward dog. You can do THIS downward dog. The one you do in the moment. The one in the now. Your next downward dog will be something completely different that is united with the previous downward dog mostly by linguistic convention, not reality.
Yoga bleaching is real, and the worst form of yoga bleaching might be when one tries to substitute something else for an element of yoga. The practice of individual asanas confer a set of benefits that, by definition, can come only from the practice of asana. Meditation, and nothing else, confers the benefits of meditation. A thing is a thing, and nothing else is that thing.
Feel for the yogalebrity. She knows she is not practicing asana as she once did, and she misses it. Her attachments have gotten her all twisted up, and the tragedy is that she need not be. She has made her choice, and her choice is just fine. Other things are worth doing! Other things, like teaching and traveling and making enough money to not live in a van down by the river, offer their own rewards. If a mature adult weighs the rewards associated with an activity that necessitates she lessen her asana practice and finds that they outweight the costs, we should celebrate such enlightened decision making. Many paths to the top of the mountain and all, but lying to one's self about what one is and is not doing is a sure way to steer directly into oncoming traffic.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
The Fifth Element
"Spirit? Oh well, it's dazzlingly obvious then. The spirit's role's always unpredictable, you know that. It exists to galvanize and revitalize the elements around it. Here's a boy whose hatred of authority is such that he even rebels against us. I think he's here to test you to your limits, Gideon, that's what I think. He's here to shake you to the core." Grant Morrison, The Invisibles
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Building a Better Echo Chamber
So a historian wrote a book on Jesus. Fox News invited him on. Said historian pwned said Newscorp.
I try not to write about politics anymore, but I'd like to think the Aslan/Green exchange is about something bigger than partisan politics and represents a victory for anyone who thinks of themselves as one of the good guys.
Contemporary society has become so postmodern that it is skeptical of the very idea of expertise. When we hear an expert speaking on something, we think they're just one more salesman pushing one more product. Salesmen have facts and figures too, yet they always seem to omit those facts that don't support their desired end. Understandably, we've all gotten pretty cynical when someone claims to be presenting just the facts, ma'am.
What makes this three minute video so fascinating and important is that Aslan strongly asserts that we need to get over all that shit. This is the most vigorous, concise statement I've yet seen of what I'll call The Nate Silver Lesson. Remember when conservatives thought Nate Silver was not a witch but merely a partisan hack? How did that work out for them?
Experts exist. Plenty of very smart people spend their entire lives pouring through hundreds of thousands of pages of Ancient Greek, developing ridiculously complex statistical models, and doing a million other really cool things. The best part: they do so not to get over, but because they want to do the best possible job capturing reality, in all its complexity and messiness. They constantly ask themselves whether their biases could be compromising their ability to accurately depict reality, and they take steps to compensate for those biases. A worldwide community vets their work, and the vast majority of its members share the same commitment to presenting the world as accurately as possible. The resulting product that they put out is measurably more accurate than the ranting of some person who's on TV because s/he is entertaining or looks like what we think an expert should look like.
If the notion of expert seems less than robust these days, it may be due less to the failings of the experts themselves and more to the inability of society to distinguish real experts from people who can act the part and still say what the audience wants to hear, rather than the truth.
I try not to write about politics anymore, but I'd like to think the Aslan/Green exchange is about something bigger than partisan politics and represents a victory for anyone who thinks of themselves as one of the good guys.
Contemporary society has become so postmodern that it is skeptical of the very idea of expertise. When we hear an expert speaking on something, we think they're just one more salesman pushing one more product. Salesmen have facts and figures too, yet they always seem to omit those facts that don't support their desired end. Understandably, we've all gotten pretty cynical when someone claims to be presenting just the facts, ma'am.
What makes this three minute video so fascinating and important is that Aslan strongly asserts that we need to get over all that shit. This is the most vigorous, concise statement I've yet seen of what I'll call The Nate Silver Lesson. Remember when conservatives thought Nate Silver was not a witch but merely a partisan hack? How did that work out for them?
Experts exist. Plenty of very smart people spend their entire lives pouring through hundreds of thousands of pages of Ancient Greek, developing ridiculously complex statistical models, and doing a million other really cool things. The best part: they do so not to get over, but because they want to do the best possible job capturing reality, in all its complexity and messiness. They constantly ask themselves whether their biases could be compromising their ability to accurately depict reality, and they take steps to compensate for those biases. A worldwide community vets their work, and the vast majority of its members share the same commitment to presenting the world as accurately as possible. The resulting product that they put out is measurably more accurate than the ranting of some person who's on TV because s/he is entertaining or looks like what we think an expert should look like.
If the notion of expert seems less than robust these days, it may be due less to the failings of the experts themselves and more to the inability of society to distinguish real experts from people who can act the part and still say what the audience wants to hear, rather than the truth.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
The Practice Deepens
Should wheel pose feel so good on my shoulders? A quick search of the Interwebs list a lot of potential benefits but no mention of the rear delts, but lately, that's the muscle group I feel open the most. The time I most notice it are on those days when I feel limber and am able to really roll my shoulder blades back, open the heart, and walk my legs in. As my arms gets straight up and down and the chest tracks in the same line, the opening in the shoulders feels the greatest. Pure bliss.
Some of the relief I feel must be related to me becoming more proficient at this particular asana. Mostly, though, the pose is addressing what my body needs. Since moving to Cleveland, I've developed a wonderful habit where I store my stress in these very same rear delts. I have no doubt in my mind that the increased relief I feel in wheel is directly tied to my greater need for relief in that specific area.
Which is pretty neat. Actually, it's awe inspiring and humbling. The tradition is wise enough, and its system of physical exercise flexible enough, to adapt seamlessly to the level of bodymind of any practitioner, so that everyone can get the relief they need.
Gratitude. Overwhelming gratitude.
Some of the relief I feel must be related to me becoming more proficient at this particular asana. Mostly, though, the pose is addressing what my body needs. Since moving to Cleveland, I've developed a wonderful habit where I store my stress in these very same rear delts. I have no doubt in my mind that the increased relief I feel in wheel is directly tied to my greater need for relief in that specific area.
Which is pretty neat. Actually, it's awe inspiring and humbling. The tradition is wise enough, and its system of physical exercise flexible enough, to adapt seamlessly to the level of bodymind of any practitioner, so that everyone can get the relief they need.
Gratitude. Overwhelming gratitude.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Taste the Rainbow
Geoff Johns' run on Green Lantern is done. My first thought is, FINALLY. Even those of us who loved his run and have defended Johns against the slings and arrows must concede that GL has been truly awful ever since Blackest Night, with the exception of the first few issues of The Nu 52.
In his final issue, Johns all but acknowledges that fact. Green Lantern 20 is a real-time act of revisionist history, with Johns celebrating the defining features of his run by literally bringing almost all of them back for an encore. The first thing we see is a future keeper of the Book of Oa using five pages to recap Rebirth, The Sinestro Corps War, the War of Light, and Blackest Night as more or less the complete story of Hal Jordan's time as a Green Lantern. There is no mention of War of the Green Lanterns or The Rise of the Third Army, which is appropriate, since those things never existed and I never wasted real currency on them.
The rest of the issue proceeds around a flimsy, insignificant plot device--there's an all-powerful threat! he's really bad!--to get the band back together. The Green Lanterns attack. The Red Lanterns spit fire. Kyle Rayner shows up with the rest of the Care Bear Crew, because God forbid Kyle Rayner ever get to do anything that isn't incredibly stupid and pointless. Our old friend Parallax shows up. Hal Jordan brings back the Black Lanterns and Nekron (no, really), saves the day, and gets rebirthed again. It's best you don't ask about that last thing.
But let's go back to those first five pages. Those who accuse Geoff Johns of being obsessed with the past are laughing their asses off and/or breaking things right now, but, like, I'm not sure that summary is entirely incorrect. My impression is that with the exception of a couple amazing Alan Moore one offs and Emerald Twilight, there weren't any classic Green Lantern stories prior to Johns's run. Whatever its faults, Johns's run did expand the GL universe and expand the possibilities open to future writers.
Especially with Sinestro. When I read old GL comics, Sinestro is a fairly generic creepy, slimy villain type with no identity. If Johns' run has one unequivocal triumph, it's that he gave Sinestro depth. Johns took a simple concept--if green rings require overcoming fear, yellow rings require its mastery--and used it to inform every aspect of Sinestro's character and history. In Johns's world, Sinestro's evil came from a desire to use fear to provide the universe order and stability (Sinestro as neocon?). Johns let this motivation make Sinestro seem alternately nobly misguided and insane. He took the old notion of Sinestro as tragic hero undone by his need to preserve order to heights never before imagined. Johns got Sinestro and used him to drive his entire run. When future writers approach Green Lantern, they'll have a villain worthy of a Justice Leaguer to play with.
Finally, Green Lantern 20 reminds us that most of Johns's run was big, dumb fun, but it was fun. Parts of Johns's multicolored Lantern saga (Sinestro Corps War) were better written than others (Blackest Night), but the stakes were always high and the action was always beautifully drawn. All comics writers rely on their artists, but one wonders how we'd look at Johns's GL run if he had had to work with average artists instead of geniuses like Ethan Van Sciver, Ivan Reis, and Doug Mahnke. To Johns's credit, he put those guys in situations where they could draw huge space action scenes in primary colors, and they knocked it out of the park. If a reader could buy into the story just enough to care, Green Lantern delivered the best action on the shelves.
I'll always owe Geoff Johns a debt, because his Green Lantern was the first book that got me going to the comics shop weekly. Since then, I've encountered scores of better books and better sagas, but Johns's GL was the gateway drug. Judging by the sales numbers, other people felt the same way I did. No one should mistake Johns's run with art, but he delivered the cheap, pulpy, grade B thrills comics used to be known for by the truckload.
In his final issue, Johns all but acknowledges that fact. Green Lantern 20 is a real-time act of revisionist history, with Johns celebrating the defining features of his run by literally bringing almost all of them back for an encore. The first thing we see is a future keeper of the Book of Oa using five pages to recap Rebirth, The Sinestro Corps War, the War of Light, and Blackest Night as more or less the complete story of Hal Jordan's time as a Green Lantern. There is no mention of War of the Green Lanterns or The Rise of the Third Army, which is appropriate, since those things never existed and I never wasted real currency on them.
The rest of the issue proceeds around a flimsy, insignificant plot device--there's an all-powerful threat! he's really bad!--to get the band back together. The Green Lanterns attack. The Red Lanterns spit fire. Kyle Rayner shows up with the rest of the Care Bear Crew, because God forbid Kyle Rayner ever get to do anything that isn't incredibly stupid and pointless. Our old friend Parallax shows up. Hal Jordan brings back the Black Lanterns and Nekron (no, really), saves the day, and gets rebirthed again. It's best you don't ask about that last thing.
But let's go back to those first five pages. Those who accuse Geoff Johns of being obsessed with the past are laughing their asses off and/or breaking things right now, but, like, I'm not sure that summary is entirely incorrect. My impression is that with the exception of a couple amazing Alan Moore one offs and Emerald Twilight, there weren't any classic Green Lantern stories prior to Johns's run. Whatever its faults, Johns's run did expand the GL universe and expand the possibilities open to future writers.
Especially with Sinestro. When I read old GL comics, Sinestro is a fairly generic creepy, slimy villain type with no identity. If Johns' run has one unequivocal triumph, it's that he gave Sinestro depth. Johns took a simple concept--if green rings require overcoming fear, yellow rings require its mastery--and used it to inform every aspect of Sinestro's character and history. In Johns's world, Sinestro's evil came from a desire to use fear to provide the universe order and stability (Sinestro as neocon?). Johns let this motivation make Sinestro seem alternately nobly misguided and insane. He took the old notion of Sinestro as tragic hero undone by his need to preserve order to heights never before imagined. Johns got Sinestro and used him to drive his entire run. When future writers approach Green Lantern, they'll have a villain worthy of a Justice Leaguer to play with.
Finally, Green Lantern 20 reminds us that most of Johns's run was big, dumb fun, but it was fun. Parts of Johns's multicolored Lantern saga (Sinestro Corps War) were better written than others (Blackest Night), but the stakes were always high and the action was always beautifully drawn. All comics writers rely on their artists, but one wonders how we'd look at Johns's GL run if he had had to work with average artists instead of geniuses like Ethan Van Sciver, Ivan Reis, and Doug Mahnke. To Johns's credit, he put those guys in situations where they could draw huge space action scenes in primary colors, and they knocked it out of the park. If a reader could buy into the story just enough to care, Green Lantern delivered the best action on the shelves.
I'll always owe Geoff Johns a debt, because his Green Lantern was the first book that got me going to the comics shop weekly. Since then, I've encountered scores of better books and better sagas, but Johns's GL was the gateway drug. Judging by the sales numbers, other people felt the same way I did. No one should mistake Johns's run with art, but he delivered the cheap, pulpy, grade B thrills comics used to be known for by the truckload.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
The Yoga of Public Speaking
Imagine providing information to over 100 proud professionals that, at first glance, could be taken as a sign that they were not doing their job. Last week, I presented some data to some employees that seemed to indicate, at first blush, that they had not entered data correctly into one of our systems.
Before I get fired, let me be very clear: this group of employees care about their jobs and do them well. That pride may have sparked the initial reception I received, which was that I should get the fuck out of here. I was told in no uncertain terms that my numbers were inaccurate and that they resented any attempt to use those numbers to evaluate them or their programs.
Remember, all of this is happening as I stand in front of 100 people. My natural reaction in such situations is fight or flight. You call me out on something, and I want to either get out of dodge or immediately crush you. That defensiveness has gotten me into trouble in the past, specifically in professional settings.
Fortunately, that's not what I did . I admitted that this system was still in its infancy, which meant we were still working out its kinks. I acknowledged the very real possibility that some people had entered the data and that the system was, for whatever reason, just not showing it. I agreed that any attempt to use this data for evaluation immediately was wildly premature and promised I would do my best to stop any attempt to do so. I made a point to show where the data showed instances of success, and specifically successes where an employee had overcome the technical difficulties and learning curve to get information into the system during the past month. What I was most interested in, I said, was getting this data right, so that, in the future, the employees could use this tool to approach their supervisor to begin a conversation about how to solve problems. We ended up using the time to diagnose problems with the system, so that our team can fix them. At the end, I got a nice round of applause, and everything was all good.
Yes, this situation makes me think about yoga. One of the things yoga can teach us is that we're not going to be perfect or right at every moment. Sometimes, everything just comes apart. Sometimes, you don't have all the answers. Sometimes, you will fall on your ass.
Over the past year I've gotten much, much better about acknowledging where my body is in the moment I am practicing, as opposed to where I think it should be. I've accepted the situations where I can't get into poses that normally pose no challenges. Today I couldn't stick an eagle pose to save my life, and I smiled through my wobbling.
"Your life becomes your practice, and your practice becomes your life." Quite right. As I've been able to accept a yoga practice that is imperfect, I've learned how to accept imperfections elsewhere in my life. Now, when I report out a finding, I'm keenly aware that I need feedback to determine how valid it is, or whether I need togo back to the drawing board work with other people to make it better. Now, criticism isn't an attack on my person. Now, criticism is a chance to make a good thing better.
Almost everyone can accept that. I'd like to think that the professionals to whom I presented saw someone who wasn't defensive and who wanted their help to achieve a common goal. I find that people can forgive almost any screw up so long as I own it.
Before I get fired, let me be very clear: this group of employees care about their jobs and do them well. That pride may have sparked the initial reception I received, which was that I should get the fuck out of here. I was told in no uncertain terms that my numbers were inaccurate and that they resented any attempt to use those numbers to evaluate them or their programs.
Remember, all of this is happening as I stand in front of 100 people. My natural reaction in such situations is fight or flight. You call me out on something, and I want to either get out of dodge or immediately crush you. That defensiveness has gotten me into trouble in the past, specifically in professional settings.
Fortunately, that's not what I did . I admitted that this system was still in its infancy, which meant we were still working out its kinks. I acknowledged the very real possibility that some people had entered the data and that the system was, for whatever reason, just not showing it. I agreed that any attempt to use this data for evaluation immediately was wildly premature and promised I would do my best to stop any attempt to do so. I made a point to show where the data showed instances of success, and specifically successes where an employee had overcome the technical difficulties and learning curve to get information into the system during the past month. What I was most interested in, I said, was getting this data right, so that, in the future, the employees could use this tool to approach their supervisor to begin a conversation about how to solve problems. We ended up using the time to diagnose problems with the system, so that our team can fix them. At the end, I got a nice round of applause, and everything was all good.
Yes, this situation makes me think about yoga. One of the things yoga can teach us is that we're not going to be perfect or right at every moment. Sometimes, everything just comes apart. Sometimes, you don't have all the answers. Sometimes, you will fall on your ass.
Over the past year I've gotten much, much better about acknowledging where my body is in the moment I am practicing, as opposed to where I think it should be. I've accepted the situations where I can't get into poses that normally pose no challenges. Today I couldn't stick an eagle pose to save my life, and I smiled through my wobbling.
Eagle Claw don't need no reason
"Your life becomes your practice, and your practice becomes your life." Quite right. As I've been able to accept a yoga practice that is imperfect, I've learned how to accept imperfections elsewhere in my life. Now, when I report out a finding, I'm keenly aware that I need feedback to determine how valid it is, or whether I need to
Almost everyone can accept that. I'd like to think that the professionals to whom I presented saw someone who wasn't defensive and who wanted their help to achieve a common goal. I find that people can forgive almost any screw up so long as I own it.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Just One Fix
There may come a day when I'm mad that only one person shows up for my yoga class, but that day is not here yet.
After no one showed up for my first 4 (!) classes, I realized I needed to let go of my ego as quickly as possible, lest I spend every Monday night curled up in the fetal position and sobbing in my closet. But over the past two months, I've had pretty consistent turnout, until tonight. At 6:58, I thought I might get the night off, until I got my first and only student for the night. Keep in mind that I was tired and feeling somewhat bloated from my very yogic lunch of pancakes and a milkshake.
It might have been the most fun I've had teaching a class yet. Small classes are the shit, and to be one on one with a student, particularly someone just getting into yoga, is to really get to chance to, well, teach. I could watch her every move. I could see where the potential injuries lurked and move her away from them. I could see which words connected with her and which didn't. I could even do about half the practice with her, because, like, a dude just staring at you and barking instructions sounds creepy.
The best part is that I could both push her and offer support, because I could be there for every move. With just the slightest assist, my student got into textbook Dekasana and Urdhva Dhanurasana. I'm not even sure she realized how cool it was that she was so new to yoga and still rocking those poses so hard, but I did, and I told her, and it felt great.
Someday, I may teach at the big studios. Someday, I may experience the uncompromising joy of headset yoga. In this moment, I'm immensely grateful for the students I get and the lessons they teach me.
After no one showed up for my first 4 (!) classes, I realized I needed to let go of my ego as quickly as possible, lest I spend every Monday night curled up in the fetal position and sobbing in my closet. But over the past two months, I've had pretty consistent turnout, until tonight. At 6:58, I thought I might get the night off, until I got my first and only student for the night. Keep in mind that I was tired and feeling somewhat bloated from my very yogic lunch of pancakes and a milkshake.
It might have been the most fun I've had teaching a class yet. Small classes are the shit, and to be one on one with a student, particularly someone just getting into yoga, is to really get to chance to, well, teach. I could watch her every move. I could see where the potential injuries lurked and move her away from them. I could see which words connected with her and which didn't. I could even do about half the practice with her, because, like, a dude just staring at you and barking instructions sounds creepy.
Speaking of injuries, please, for the love of your ligaments, don't let the knee get in front of the ankle.
The best part is that I could both push her and offer support, because I could be there for every move. With just the slightest assist, my student got into textbook Dekasana and Urdhva Dhanurasana. I'm not even sure she realized how cool it was that she was so new to yoga and still rocking those poses so hard, but I did, and I told her, and it felt great.
Someday, I may teach at the big studios. Someday, I may experience the uncompromising joy of headset yoga. In this moment, I'm immensely grateful for the students I get and the lessons they teach me.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
I Am A Yoga Teacher
What does a yoga teacher do, and why do I want to be one?
I’m embarrassed to say that I gave the question very little thought prior to signing up for teacher training. The answer I gave to the public was that I had practiced yoga for so many years that I was curious about teaching and deepening my own practice. In one of my more honest moments, you probably could have gotten me to admit that I harbor dreams of owning a studio or otherwise making my way as a full-time teacher at some point.
Neither my public nor my private answer do much more than beg the question. Yeah, I practice yoga a lot, but why? I want to do and teach yoga all the time, but why?
A couple weeks ago, the Cleveland Yoga Teacher Trainees Class of 2013 were seriously lagging in energy. Fearless Leader responded exactly as one would expect: by teaching a spur of the moment two hour inversion workshop. Fearless Leader thinks nothing cures a case of tired faster than more, bigger, harder. That Saturday, she was right. All that blood and adrenaline rushing to our heads got us buzzing and moving and feeling alive once again.
We assisted one another, and I was paired with my friend Nicole. We rocked our way through various pincha assists, before we moved on to handstand. Nicole used my assist to kick up. I walked her leg over her hips and told her to look at her belly, and VOILA! For about five seconds, Nicole was in the best looking handstand you could imagine. Her feet and her hands were in one line. Her feet were flexed. I knew she was in the pose because I could feel the point where her alignment allowed her to try less. She got lighter. When she came down, she popped right off the ground and, with the purest expression of joy I have seen in the longest time, immediately gave my sweaty ass the biggest hug.
And I learned why I wanted to be a yoga teacher.
After all the teaching I’ve done in my various roles, I am surprised at how much the bullshit teacher/student hierarchical narrative influences the way I view things, including yoga. Now that I’ve finished teacher training, I can confirm that yoga teachers are not on a different plane than the rest of us. A yoga teacher is just someone whose life has been touched by something pure and wonderful and perfect and who dreams that s/he might learn enough to share that feeling.
As I sit here on the first weekend of the rest of my life, I'm a little heartbroken that teacher training is over. My PASC peeps will know what I mean when I say that I never thought I'd be in a color group again, but that's what this was. A group with nothing in common but a fierce devotion to one perfect thing came together, and their shared love of that one perfect thing bonded them forever, if only in their minds. With the program over, I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the loss.
That said, more than anything else, I'm ready to try to share what little I know in the hopes that someone else finds this practice and this practice elevates them as it has elevated me. Really, all a yoga teacher needs to do is get out of the way and let the practitioner and practice bond, stepping in only when the practitioner waivers to nudge them back on the path. That's it. As long as I remember that I am not the star but a passenger in the backseat who can read the directions and point out the right place to turn, I have a chance of being a halfway decent yoga teacher.
Thanks, Nicole. Thanks, TTs.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Blocks
I want to move up, in the direction of my dreams and freedom and enlightenment and all of the good stuff. But the day-to-day makes getting to a higher place so hard. I can't think or write with a cold. I can't think or write when I'm so tired. I can't think or write with a 8 to 5 and teacher training and keeping up with the people I love and the five million other things that demand attention every day.
Part of the solution is to simplify, to do less. I know this. I need to clear off my plate that which does not serve me, and I am trying so hard to do so. I think I'm at the point where I'm ready to start shedding layers, and I have full confidence that if I do so more opportunities that better serve me will appear. I just need the courage to get started. I need to jump, even if I can't see the landing spot, and trust that the universe will reciprocate my gesture of good faith, catch me, and lift me up.
Boy, it's hard to think on cold medicine. Blergh.
Part of the solution is to simplify, to do less. I know this. I need to clear off my plate that which does not serve me, and I am trying so hard to do so. I think I'm at the point where I'm ready to start shedding layers, and I have full confidence that if I do so more opportunities that better serve me will appear. I just need the courage to get started. I need to jump, even if I can't see the landing spot, and trust that the universe will reciprocate my gesture of good faith, catch me, and lift me up.
Boy, it's hard to think on cold medicine. Blergh.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
If You Were There, You Are There Now
I brought a case of the blues back with me from vacation. Amy Schneider's class tonight helped a great deal. I wasn't at my best, but I made the conscious effort to not let the blues stop me but to integrate the blues into my practice. I worked with the blues, rather than against it. I decided to be softer and more fluid. It felt great.
Still, in savasana, the blues planted doubts in my head. The blues said that I'd never reach the states of awareness that I wanted to reach, or even make it back to the states of mind where I felt I was making real progress in the past.
But, see, the blues fucked up when they mentioned the past, because I know enough about theoretical physics to be dangerous. Theoretical physics sees time as a dimension like space, which opens the door for time travel and other, more interesting ideas. Grant Morrison introduced me to one of my favorites, which is, if we were all fifth dimensional entities that could look down on the four dimensions humans perceive, we could theoretically point to different areas in time, and we'd see that all moments in time are actually part of the same thing and could really be said to be happening at once.
So, if that's the case, every moment in my life is happening right now. The time years ago in Florida where the universe manifested itself to me as interlocking golden light that makes up everything is happening right now. The time in savasana where I realized that God is real is happening right now. There's no beginning or ending to anything, which means that if I have ever had a transcendent, spiritual moment in which I glimpsed higher existence, I can have it right now, if I just open myself to it.
And since we're all one thing anyway, if I've had such moments, you can too.
Needless to say, savasana got really, really trippy after that. And really, really good.
Still, in savasana, the blues planted doubts in my head. The blues said that I'd never reach the states of awareness that I wanted to reach, or even make it back to the states of mind where I felt I was making real progress in the past.
But, see, the blues fucked up when they mentioned the past, because I know enough about theoretical physics to be dangerous. Theoretical physics sees time as a dimension like space, which opens the door for time travel and other, more interesting ideas. Grant Morrison introduced me to one of my favorites, which is, if we were all fifth dimensional entities that could look down on the four dimensions humans perceive, we could theoretically point to different areas in time, and we'd see that all moments in time are actually part of the same thing and could really be said to be happening at once.
So, if that's the case, every moment in my life is happening right now. The time years ago in Florida where the universe manifested itself to me as interlocking golden light that makes up everything is happening right now. The time in savasana where I realized that God is real is happening right now. There's no beginning or ending to anything, which means that if I have ever had a transcendent, spiritual moment in which I glimpsed higher existence, I can have it right now, if I just open myself to it.
And since we're all one thing anyway, if I've had such moments, you can too.
Needless to say, savasana got really, really trippy after that. And really, really good.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Lessons in Humility: Yoga Teacher (In) Training
Before we left Florida this morning, Carolyn and I did yoga
together. I was sad and emotional about
leaving, so I didn’t want to lead a class. We just did whatever asanas we wanted for
about 20 minutes. Towards the end of our
practice, she helped me stay up in pincha, and it felt wonderful. Squeezing her arm between my legs allowed me
to stay up longer away from the wall than I ever had before.
Then she said she’d like to do headstand, a pose
she’s worked on a bunch recently and has improved greatly. To repay her assist, I offered to assist
her. I did a great job stabilizing her
hips, but while I was admiring my handiwork and her headstand, I zoned
out. I wasn’t present.
2 seconds later, girlfriend falls on her back. Eep.
Pictured: NOT CAROLYN
Girlfriend is unhurt and cheerful about the whole thing, but boyfriend
is a little embarrassed at the very basic lesson he apparently needed to learn.
Last weekend, I had coffee with the owner of the World’s Greatest Yoga Studio, and she advised that a yogi who teaches from a place
of love, moderation, and humility will always remain in balance. Lately I find that humility is very, very
easy, because I continue to make mistakes when I teach, and those mistakes do
not hesitate to manifest themselves in ways that touch other people. All I can hope is that I learn my lessons.
Friday, March 29, 2013
FGCU, or the Power of Outliers
Any red-blooded American male knows that there's a formula for how a low-seeded team in the NCAA tournament pulls off an upset. Takao maintains that all upstart double-digit seeds need a quick point guard, a lights-out shooter, and a bamma-ass power forward who tries hard. It doesn't hurt when the favored team doesn't take the game seriously. The lower seeded team hits 'em quick and builds a double digit halftime lead, usually because they hit a ridiculous percentage of their three-point shots, then holds on as the more talented favorite makes a run that may or may not make up for their early laziness.
If it doesn't, you have two days worth of heartwarming stories and images of the latest Cinderella, but two days is all they get. Cinderellas can win one game in the NCAA tournament, but they rarely win two. Most of these stories end with Cinderella absorbing a 20 point loss in their second game and everyone forgetting about them.
If it doesn't, you have two days worth of heartwarming stories and images of the latest Cinderella, but two days is all they get. Cinderellas can win one game in the NCAA tournament, but they rarely win two. Most of these stories end with Cinderella absorbing a 20 point loss in their second game and everyone forgetting about them.
Needless to say, Florida Gulf Coast University is not following the formula.
This can't be stressed enough: Dunk City is far, far, FAR more athletic than the average low-seed Cinderella, and they didn't hit more than 8 three pointers in either of their first two tournament games. Neither of their first two opponents took them lightly. FGCU was basically tied with both Georgetown and San Diego State at the half. The typical underdog script does NOT include blitzing the higher seed team after halftime with the type of free-wheeling athleticism seen above.
Because I'm a nerd, I think about the difference between the typical Cinderella and FGCU as a difference between types of outliers. The script I described above is probably the easiest way for an outlier to manifest itself, and outliers are bound to manifest themselves. Odds say that the worst Division III team in America could beat Louisville or Indiana if they played enough times, even if those odds are probably, literally, at least one million to one. The odds of a real, live Division 1 program that won its conference getting hot enough from the 3pt line for a day and catching a good team napping are considerably higher. However, no one pretends that the normal Cinderella is actually better than the teams they beat. They get hot for one night, and they get a great win, but there's no doubt who would win if they played a best of seven series. What makes FGCU an outlier among outliers is, I think they're actually better than the two teams they've beat. Once FGCU stopped holding Georgetown on a pedestal, they blew them away.
Stats has come to dominate sports generally and the NCAA tournament selection process specifically, and we have really good stats that measure the quality of teams that can predict with startling accuracy how 99 percent of the games between two teams will go. I'm starting to think that FGCU is the 1 percent of teams that advanced stats really can't capture. This team isn't winning flukey, like most underdogs do. Over the past week, they have been better than two really good teams, because they've been more athletic and more skilled. Maybe the stats penalized them too much for playing in a crap conference. Maybe FGCU just got a lot better over, say, the last month, and the advanced stats are not rewarding that improvement.
It's one of those craziest, most unpredictable things I've seen in sports, and anyone who tells you they know how this will end is lying. All bets are off with this team. If they can blowout Georgetown and San Diego State, they can absolutely beat Florida and the Michigan/Kansas winner. Numbers tell you that they shouldn't have a chance against any of those three teams, but it's pretty clear that numbers fail to capture the magic of FGCU.
Because I'm a nerd, I think about the difference between the typical Cinderella and FGCU as a difference between types of outliers. The script I described above is probably the easiest way for an outlier to manifest itself, and outliers are bound to manifest themselves. Odds say that the worst Division III team in America could beat Louisville or Indiana if they played enough times, even if those odds are probably, literally, at least one million to one. The odds of a real, live Division 1 program that won its conference getting hot enough from the 3pt line for a day and catching a good team napping are considerably higher. However, no one pretends that the normal Cinderella is actually better than the teams they beat. They get hot for one night, and they get a great win, but there's no doubt who would win if they played a best of seven series. What makes FGCU an outlier among outliers is, I think they're actually better than the two teams they've beat. Once FGCU stopped holding Georgetown on a pedestal, they blew them away.
Stats has come to dominate sports generally and the NCAA tournament selection process specifically, and we have really good stats that measure the quality of teams that can predict with startling accuracy how 99 percent of the games between two teams will go. I'm starting to think that FGCU is the 1 percent of teams that advanced stats really can't capture. This team isn't winning flukey, like most underdogs do. Over the past week, they have been better than two really good teams, because they've been more athletic and more skilled. Maybe the stats penalized them too much for playing in a crap conference. Maybe FGCU just got a lot better over, say, the last month, and the advanced stats are not rewarding that improvement.
It's one of those craziest, most unpredictable things I've seen in sports, and anyone who tells you they know how this will end is lying. All bets are off with this team. If they can blowout Georgetown and San Diego State, they can absolutely beat Florida and the Michigan/Kansas winner. Numbers tell you that they shouldn't have a chance against any of those three teams, but it's pretty clear that numbers fail to capture the magic of FGCU.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Perfect
I feel like I have to be perfect, or everything I care about will be taken away from me. It's only gotten worse since the REBUT, when it really was.
One of the unfortunate consequences of this feeling is that I put so much pressure on myself when I go after the things that I care about. It's counterproductive, but it's what I do. This pressure has probably gotten worse since the REBUT. Then again, it's possible that, since the REBUT, I'm now going after things that I really, truly want for the first time ever.
And it's scary. But I'm doing it.
Something I need to start doing again is writing here. Lately I've saved all my best thoughts for teacher training, but the whole point is, one doesn't have to have a perfect thought to write. I like writing, and someday I'd like to get paid to write about the kinds of things I write about here, now, for free.
So I'd better get back to getting the reps in.
One of the unfortunate consequences of this feeling is that I put so much pressure on myself when I go after the things that I care about. It's counterproductive, but it's what I do. This pressure has probably gotten worse since the REBUT. Then again, it's possible that, since the REBUT, I'm now going after things that I really, truly want for the first time ever.
And it's scary. But I'm doing it.
Something I need to start doing again is writing here. Lately I've saved all my best thoughts for teacher training, but the whole point is, one doesn't have to have a perfect thought to write. I like writing, and someday I'd like to get paid to write about the kinds of things I write about here, now, for free.
So I'd better get back to getting the reps in.
Monday, March 4, 2013
For My Teachers
I teach my first public yoga class in 10 hours and 15 minutes.
I guess I'm nervous, but mostly I'm just excited. I've heard people talk about, when they start doing something they knew they were always meant to do, they have a great sense of arriving. That's exactly how I feel. I feel like I should have been doing this all along. I know I will mess up tonight and many, many times in the future, to the extent that "messing up" is even possible in yoga (and I don't think it is). I know I've been a teacher and a student for a long time. Still, tonight is a milestone.
In recognition of that milestone, I would like to express my tremendous, ongoing gratitude to the teachers that have helped me get to this point. I could speak generally to the teachers that have informed my life, which of course animates my practice, but then I'd be here all day, and what began as a mild procrastination before I calculated _________________________ (INSERT CONFIDENTIAL WORK BUSINESS HERE) would turn into a serious productivity drain. No one wants that.
So in the interest of brevity, let me a send a namaste to the five people that have had the greatest influence on my practice of asana.
Lori Burgwyn and Deb Lazer, you taught me that a studio could be a community. You provided the space for my practice and my heart to grow, and you always went above and beyond to support my progress. That you do so for all of your students is a humbling lesson I will try to keep in mind with my own students. Namaste.
Mike Lyons and Andrea Martinez, you taught me that grace under pressure was not only possible but the place to be. In the middle of all the noise and the chaos of the universe, there is a place of deep quiet and total peace, and I don't think I would understand that nearly as thoroughly without your teachings. Namaste.
Nancy Shelly, you are my favorite yoga teacher ever. You got me to go to my first yoga class, then reminded me of yoga when I was hunched over a desk finishing my dissertation and complaining about my back. Everything that has happened since stems from that moment, so any good I've accomplished in the practice of yoga or will accomplish in its teaching is your good too. I love you so much. Namaste.
Now, who's up for some yoga?
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Classic Hip Hop is Like Porn
I know it when I, uh, see it, and Inspectah Deck and 7L & Esoteric have made a strong play for classic status with their new album Czarface.
Actually, the Hip-Hop Classic Committee would probably deny me a vote. I just haven't kept up with enough stuff over the past few years. I needed a Google search to tell me that 7L & Esoteric were not some kids but veterans almost 20 years deep in the game. Given that I lack the necessary credentials to be seated, I hope this amicus brief pleases the court.
Anyway, Czarface rocks the bells. The emcees reminds me of Black Thought, not in style, but in the sense that you are in the hands of a consummate professional. Not sure that either Deck or Esoteric deliver a whole lot of memorable verses or even lines, but the skill and craft are evident in every syllable. Given than beats mean more to me that rhymes, a high level of competency is enough to satisfy.
And those beats? Son. SON. Somebody got high honors on their thesis at the University of Shaolin. If Ghost had his way and a good ear, he'd have dropped whatever money he needed to buy them all, dropped the Octagonycologist verses, and released the whole thing as Supreme Clientele II. When I reviewed that Kendrick Lamar joint, I denied it personal classic status because the verses were just a wee bit too digital for my tastes. Well, that's not a problem with Csarface in the least. The hiss in the drums is there. The boom bap is alive. The martial arts samples and looped weird noises that sounds like martial arts soundtracks are there. The ill scratches are there.
Son, I fucks wit the beats. I fucks wit them completely and wit great vigor.
Yeah, so if you ever threw up a W, you need this shit.
Actually, the Hip-Hop Classic Committee would probably deny me a vote. I just haven't kept up with enough stuff over the past few years. I needed a Google search to tell me that 7L & Esoteric were not some kids but veterans almost 20 years deep in the game. Given that I lack the necessary credentials to be seated, I hope this amicus brief pleases the court.
Anyway, Czarface rocks the bells. The emcees reminds me of Black Thought, not in style, but in the sense that you are in the hands of a consummate professional. Not sure that either Deck or Esoteric deliver a whole lot of memorable verses or even lines, but the skill and craft are evident in every syllable. Given than beats mean more to me that rhymes, a high level of competency is enough to satisfy.
And those beats? Son. SON. Somebody got high honors on their thesis at the University of Shaolin. If Ghost had his way and a good ear, he'd have dropped whatever money he needed to buy them all, dropped the Octagonycologist verses, and released the whole thing as Supreme Clientele II. When I reviewed that Kendrick Lamar joint, I denied it personal classic status because the verses were just a wee bit too digital for my tastes. Well, that's not a problem with Csarface in the least. The hiss in the drums is there. The boom bap is alive. The martial arts samples and looped weird noises that sounds like martial arts soundtracks are there. The ill scratches are there.
Son, I fucks wit the beats. I fucks wit them completely and wit great vigor.
Yeah, so if you ever threw up a W, you need this shit.
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