Aphoristically because I am so fantastically rushed for time:
1) Consider all human enterprise (including social conservatism, capitalism, oppression on the part of oil companies, even acts of genocide, in the widest possible scope) as "fragile human activity." Nothing is fearsome, inevitable, tsunami. Find a mindset where this is possible. Want to make that more complicated? Find a mindset where all of that is possible, and THEN find a further mindset where action in the name of enlightening the brutish, without hatred (as Gandhi did with the English) is possible.
2) Money is absurd and existential, as we see even in the quick phrase "you can't take it with you." But in terms of Prakriti and Purusha, existentialism is silly, because it preserves the ego and maintains the ego's isolating solitude. Understand money (or more actually, DEBT, which in a way is also money) as an illness, a chronic illness. If it is burdensome, understand it as a necessary, transitory condition. This eases existential angst and increases the potential for wisdom.
3) Blues music, in my opinion, causes all carbon-based life to "shake it to the right, shake it to the left." This cannot be disputed (of course it can).
A good day; I would say more but I must grade, read, prepare for class, sleep, work.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
Practice, Routine, Avant-garde.
Up to standing half-lotus forward bend today, in the backyard, after richly deserved late morning sleep (up at 9 am). The gluteus medius and iliopsoas were too loaded with what Jason otherwhere called "sweet fatigue pain" and it just was NOT going to work to do a sun salutation to Utkatasana from there. That's fine, I'm used to that for home practice.
Yesterday afternoon I did a specifically backbend oriented practice; a little warm up, some baby backbends, six wheels, about eight wall-dropbacks, and I got the dropbacks good and deep again (under knee-high) but the psoas got REALLY cranky about an hour after that. This puzzle remains: the more deeply I backbend, the crankier the psoas seems to get. Wha????
This coming week should be the final one of temp work at 8:30, after which I will immediately have to find ANOTHER temp job so that I can afford July's debt. The 5:30 am wakeup has become routine, but the practice at dawn has been as minimal as anything Stella ever painted. It's HARD to practice that early.
(0v0) had a brilliant post some few back (a lot of her stuff is brilliant) about "precarite" (it's French, so pronounce the "e" like "ay" in both cases), which is, in one sense, prolonged, what you might call chronic, economic instability, a definitional economic instability. I consider myself to live in a state of precarite right now, at least until my full-time-yet-visiting gig begins in January. For the record, living in economic precarite is essentially a mix of middle-class accoutrements, mixed with downright poverty-line income. It's very bizarre. It's even weirder when you're totally overeducated and live on the poor side of town. Because American culture generally associates great education with higher social class, this not-infrequent combination of great education with poverty-line income is a real head-bender. The dialogue is something like this:
"Hey, where's the ivory tower I just paid for?"
"Oh, you paid for loan debt, not an ivory tower."
"But I want my membership card! No, no wait, I don't! That's pretentious!"
"Well do you want to be brilliant-but-poor or brilliant-but-pretentious?"
"Uh..I want the best of both worlds! I want to be 'with the people' but I also want to be brilliant! I want the ivory tower to pay my way as I make art in the streets!"
That's some tongue-in-cheek, of course, but the dialogue really is something like that.
Membership in the ivory tower might reduce the terror of looking over the cliff face of student loan debt, but it comes with the price of MEMBERSHIP in the ivory tower. Essentially, my complaint here is that I feel pinned between two not-totally-appetizing incarnations of the social contract. In the one, I am nought but my loan debt. In the other, I am, as Jean-Luc Godard once put it in a different context, "trapped within the fortress." Safety comes with a lack of proximity. Harun Farocki made a famous film about this, called "Images of the World and the Inscription of War."
My home practice happens in the midst of this. Because of that, the stress of indebtedness shows MOST strongly in my outer hips, when I'm at home. My practice is "more advanced" (noting the fact that this doesn't technically matter) if I drive even EIGHT MINUTES from here to a studio, because I don't have my computer, I don't have my phone, I can't "do" anything with my indebtedness or work or need to publish or job letters or whatever, the stress drops off because I break the contact.
Taken the other way, this means that my home practice is my most psychologically and emotionally stout practice, because I have to rely on breath, bandhas and dristi to MOVE me FROM "home" (and all it connotes) to "practice" (which happens in the midst of "home" but is not permeable to it).
As soon as I'm not home, and practicing, ease comes, because I don't need to step away from the horrorshow of precarite. The step is taken via travel. In a way, this is cheating, but even I like to get in a full Primary once in a while.
Avant-garde: recently, in discussions with my partner, I've discovered that my take on avant-garde art is about historicizing the series of practices and the discourse of avant-garde. I called it "the family tree." This means that my personal taste in art isn't high in the mix of my appreciation; if it is or has been considered or can be taken to be "avant-garde," I'm inherently interested in it. This doesn't mean that I buy everything which anyone calls "avant-garde" but I'm always at least interested in something which is anti- or counter- or neo- or somesuch. The history, the politics, the manifestoes, of this creature "the avant-garde" fascinate me. Who has rebelled, or objected, or critiqued, or deviated from? I'll bring my curiosity.
Rambling over!
Yesterday afternoon I did a specifically backbend oriented practice; a little warm up, some baby backbends, six wheels, about eight wall-dropbacks, and I got the dropbacks good and deep again (under knee-high) but the psoas got REALLY cranky about an hour after that. This puzzle remains: the more deeply I backbend, the crankier the psoas seems to get. Wha????
This coming week should be the final one of temp work at 8:30, after which I will immediately have to find ANOTHER temp job so that I can afford July's debt. The 5:30 am wakeup has become routine, but the practice at dawn has been as minimal as anything Stella ever painted. It's HARD to practice that early.
(0v0) had a brilliant post some few back (a lot of her stuff is brilliant) about "precarite" (it's French, so pronounce the "e" like "ay" in both cases), which is, in one sense, prolonged, what you might call chronic, economic instability, a definitional economic instability. I consider myself to live in a state of precarite right now, at least until my full-time-yet-visiting gig begins in January. For the record, living in economic precarite is essentially a mix of middle-class accoutrements, mixed with downright poverty-line income. It's very bizarre. It's even weirder when you're totally overeducated and live on the poor side of town. Because American culture generally associates great education with higher social class, this not-infrequent combination of great education with poverty-line income is a real head-bender. The dialogue is something like this:
"Hey, where's the ivory tower I just paid for?"
"Oh, you paid for loan debt, not an ivory tower."
"But I want my membership card! No, no wait, I don't! That's pretentious!"
"Well do you want to be brilliant-but-poor or brilliant-but-pretentious?"
"Uh..I want the best of both worlds! I want to be 'with the people' but I also want to be brilliant! I want the ivory tower to pay my way as I make art in the streets!"
That's some tongue-in-cheek, of course, but the dialogue really is something like that.
Membership in the ivory tower might reduce the terror of looking over the cliff face of student loan debt, but it comes with the price of MEMBERSHIP in the ivory tower. Essentially, my complaint here is that I feel pinned between two not-totally-appetizing incarnations of the social contract. In the one, I am nought but my loan debt. In the other, I am, as Jean-Luc Godard once put it in a different context, "trapped within the fortress." Safety comes with a lack of proximity. Harun Farocki made a famous film about this, called "Images of the World and the Inscription of War."
My home practice happens in the midst of this. Because of that, the stress of indebtedness shows MOST strongly in my outer hips, when I'm at home. My practice is "more advanced" (noting the fact that this doesn't technically matter) if I drive even EIGHT MINUTES from here to a studio, because I don't have my computer, I don't have my phone, I can't "do" anything with my indebtedness or work or need to publish or job letters or whatever, the stress drops off because I break the contact.
Taken the other way, this means that my home practice is my most psychologically and emotionally stout practice, because I have to rely on breath, bandhas and dristi to MOVE me FROM "home" (and all it connotes) to "practice" (which happens in the midst of "home" but is not permeable to it).
As soon as I'm not home, and practicing, ease comes, because I don't need to step away from the horrorshow of precarite. The step is taken via travel. In a way, this is cheating, but even I like to get in a full Primary once in a while.
Avant-garde: recently, in discussions with my partner, I've discovered that my take on avant-garde art is about historicizing the series of practices and the discourse of avant-garde. I called it "the family tree." This means that my personal taste in art isn't high in the mix of my appreciation; if it is or has been considered or can be taken to be "avant-garde," I'm inherently interested in it. This doesn't mean that I buy everything which anyone calls "avant-garde" but I'm always at least interested in something which is anti- or counter- or neo- or somesuch. The history, the politics, the manifestoes, of this creature "the avant-garde" fascinate me. Who has rebelled, or objected, or critiqued, or deviated from? I'll bring my curiosity.
Rambling over!
Saturday, May 24, 2008
The Man in the Hat, II: review and spoilers.
For the record, I am ALWAYS going to include spoilers in a film review. There simply is no point to writing a review that doesn't spoil the film; otherwise, it's just a trailer, in narrative format. You've been warned; prepare to be spoiled!
The review on www.imdb.com of "Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull" is scathing, to put it lightly. Too much CGI, ruins the franchise. I don't quite agree; it's more accurate to say, I watched the film with different attention. Carry on:
The opening shot is an extreme-long-shot of a car racing across dusty grassland, while Elvis Presley's "Hound Dog" plays. We see a title for the time (1957) and then the formal title and the credits. Spielberg seems keen on reminding us, in this beautiful location shot, that he once directed films like "Sugarland Express". The groundhog is CGI, sure, but we expect CGI in big Hollywood potential-blockbusters; it's simply par for the course, folks.
The first sequence shot on a set, however, which directly follows this car-race game, is awkward, almost overtly fake. It's clearly visible as a set; the dialogue is oddly stilted; characters aren't sufficiently foregrounded. The "alienation effect" here is certainly unintentional, but powerful nonetheless. It took me a while to realize that our hero was being introduced with new enemies.
After this comes the first slam-bang action sequence, complete with some improbable "magic" regarding magnetism, but we are again introduced to Dr. Jones' sleuthing talents. This sequence also includes the first postmodern "hero citations" with light, affectionate irony, as Dr. Jones misses the whip-swing-onto-the-truck and crashes, unharmed, onto a windshield. Now, this series, and all of the films like it (from Die Hard to Pirates of the Caribbean) have always had quasi-superheroes who withstand an UNREAL amount of punishment, and who nonetheless deliver clever retorts (Schwarzenegger's eighties films are the paramount here: "I'll be back", "I let him go," "stick around" and so forth), and go on to fight again six minutes later, but the postmodern referentiality here (and the way that characters are somehow NEVER run down by automatic weapon fire which should OBVIOUSLY have killed them about 18 times in a row) just adds to the film's too-overt citation of its legend.
Shortly after this, the film again short-hands its own narrative elements and character development: we quickly learn that the CIA and FBI are suspicious of Indy, and that the KGB is after him (it's the Cold War, after all), but this omnipresent "threat" is simply maintained as such: it's pure impetus for plot movement, not character study. We never even SEE another CIA guy after this sequence.
However, the end of the "escape from the Russians" sequence I was just describing is very noteworthy: you will hear people say that it is totally unrealistic and that CGI ruins narrative filmmaking, which might well be true (I have footnotes to that discussion but I'll save them; remind me). However, I want to go another way. Here is the narrative event in question:
Indy escapes from the Russians; he winds up in a bare Nevada landscape, sees a town, and runs down to hide. But what's this? The citizens aren't real: they're dummies. The radio runs for no one. The whole town is a sham. But why? The second we hear a countdown announced via loudspeaker, we gather it, and then the film cuts to an image of a bomb suspended in a tower, in the foreground, with the town in back. A nuclear test, to see how and if homes, cars, or nothing, will survive! Quickly, into the fridge! No time! The bomb goes off, the dummies are vaporized, a car driving away, is caught in the nuclear blast and carried away like matchsticks in a hurricane gale.
Now, obviously Dr. Jones, tucked away in his "lead-lined" refrigerator from the fifties, would have been vaporized. But I don't think that's the point. Sure, he is "blown clear" of the explosion, and gets up, to see the CGI mushroom cloud forming, and of course, the heat would fry him to a crisp in about .02 seconds. Again, that's not the point. What I thought of, primarily, in this sequence, is Spielberg's constant attention to World War II: think Schindler's List. Think of the Cold War as fallout (pun intended) from World War II. The human cost. The forty years that the superpowers spent posturing and threatening. The Cuban missile crisis. All of that history, all of that "life on the edge," the statistics about "there are enough nuclear arms on the planet, to destroy all of life FORTY TIMES OVER." That's what I thought about, not narrative implausibility. It's a downright realistic mushroom cloud, a signifier of the marvelously tragic trickery by which scientists were made to manufacture that kind of power. In a way, the whole film is ABOUT the fifties.
Post-mushroom cloud, Jones is interrogated by the spy agencies, and again, the dialogue is unrealistic, the set unconvincing (as before). After this, the film begins its adventure sequences in earnest, and the plot tightens up (not without implausibilities left and right, but the writing, itself, is tighter).
Indiana Jones is part tenured professor of archaeology, part adventurer. The film puts his tenured career role under threat; the FBI wants him fired from his job. Ahh, but the narrative trajectory here is one of recovery, even of closure, all the way back to Raiders! A young man, a "greaser," complete with leather jacket and comb and switchblade, tells Indy that "Ox," a colleague of Indy's from back in the day, is going to be killed, and the adventure begins. A riddle in an ancient language; a crystal skull; a legendary city; more gold than you can imagine. Let's go, kid! To help, the KGB guys appear, and we're on the run, complete with flight-and-superimposition-of-map (just like in Raiders) down to Peru, where a dusty floor is swept clean to provide a clue to the next location (just like in Raiders, in the "map room"!).
In at least two places in this film, odd, atemporal "tribesmen" of some sort, appear out of nowhere (do they live in these caves?), and attack our heroes. We go with it, but it's completely implausible; who are these characters? Ancient mummies are cut open, treasures are found, and then (just like in Raiders) the bad guys appear and claim what is ours, as their own. But, the bad guys have Ox, who can lead our heroes to the ancient city of legend! How convenient! We expect this kind of plotting from Hollywood now, and actually, even Raiders is plotted like this ("Truck? What truck?").
The citations of Raiders are both overt and less overt: Marion re-appears, and we find out that the kid is Indy's son, and so while in the third installment we had a "family affair" of father and son, now we have a trio, father son and mother! It's quite a re-write, and I actually enjoyed the fact that Karen Allen, over 20 years later, still has EXACTLY the same voice and intonation she had as Marion in Raiders; that was hilarious. Somewhat ridiculous and in-jokish, but hilarious. You see the film's hand early on, and you go with it. Why not?
In an attack of CGI ants, we see Indy fist-fighting with the powerful Russian, and we remember the fist-fight with the big German in Raiders, by the plane. At the end of the film, the evil Russian spy (played with just the right mix of intensity and camp by Cate Blanchett; can she do ANY wrong?) is immolated, rather like Belloq at the end of Raiders. There are "hangings off the back of vehicles" and "crashes into/through windshields" galore, again, just as in the famous, FAMOUS sequence from Raiders. To be honest, I would probably do this amount of citation, too; it's a bit more of a "spot the citation" game than we get in either Temple of Doom or Last Crusade, and it's fun; easy fun, simple-minded fun, nodding all the while to the film's appreciation of its own franchise, but it's fun. Don't tell me you went to see this and didn't expect a ton of nod-nod-wink-wink. Ah, and of course, I'm forgetting the "snake" joke; that was required!
There is plentiful riddle-solving and monument-managing, particularly in the closing sequences. Doors have to be tripped just so, levers found and pulled, caverns discovered, crystal skulls replaced, translations made, and so forth. There is plenty of that; it's all a little obvious and we're not suprised, but there are suspenseful sequences of needing to run down the retracting stairwell, of collapsing floors, and of scorpion stings. We get all of the necessary cobwebs and ancient symbols to read.
The end of the adventure, with all of the necessary bad guys punished, comes with the launch of a flying saucer; it turns out that the civilizations of old really DID come from ancient astronauts! The saucer launch is the film's best use of CGI technologies; it doesn't try to fake something real just to make it look "cool" (like the swarm of ants). The levitating stone, the massive tonnage, and then the collapse of that stone and the in-flood of the waters, "covering their footprints," almost make you believe that that's how they'd REALLY do it, if they actually existed.
The film closes as completely as Return of the King does: we see our hero not just re-established at Oxford, but made "associate dean"! Well, that's the end of that, no more "teacher/adventurer" for you, you're a bureaucrat now! Also, we see Indy and Marion get married (and we ALL know that when you get married, adventuring days are over! Hah!) and that is ALMOST the end of the film.
A strong wind blows the doors of the chapel open, and THE HAT lands at the kid's feet. He reaches for it: is this it? Is this THE KEY that we'll see a fifth film, a take on "Young Indiana Jones" that doesn't suck? (drum roll, please)
No, at least, not for certain! Indy picks up the hat just as the kid reaches for it, and he and Marion walk down the aisle, smiles wide. Cue music, roll credits. Now, they have ample material for a sequel, but they should remember, that's already been done, in a way, and it wasn't good. Careful, boys, careful. If you do it, do it right.
All told, I liked it. The jungle sequences where the son proves his "Indy-Jones-hood" are gratuitous, kind of like the jungle duel in Pirates of the Caribbean, but again, in a Hollywood potential-blockbuster, you gotta have it.
So long, Indiana Jones!
The review on www.imdb.com of "Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull" is scathing, to put it lightly. Too much CGI, ruins the franchise. I don't quite agree; it's more accurate to say, I watched the film with different attention. Carry on:
The opening shot is an extreme-long-shot of a car racing across dusty grassland, while Elvis Presley's "Hound Dog" plays. We see a title for the time (1957) and then the formal title and the credits. Spielberg seems keen on reminding us, in this beautiful location shot, that he once directed films like "Sugarland Express". The groundhog is CGI, sure, but we expect CGI in big Hollywood potential-blockbusters; it's simply par for the course, folks.
The first sequence shot on a set, however, which directly follows this car-race game, is awkward, almost overtly fake. It's clearly visible as a set; the dialogue is oddly stilted; characters aren't sufficiently foregrounded. The "alienation effect" here is certainly unintentional, but powerful nonetheless. It took me a while to realize that our hero was being introduced with new enemies.
After this comes the first slam-bang action sequence, complete with some improbable "magic" regarding magnetism, but we are again introduced to Dr. Jones' sleuthing talents. This sequence also includes the first postmodern "hero citations" with light, affectionate irony, as Dr. Jones misses the whip-swing-onto-the-truck and crashes, unharmed, onto a windshield. Now, this series, and all of the films like it (from Die Hard to Pirates of the Caribbean) have always had quasi-superheroes who withstand an UNREAL amount of punishment, and who nonetheless deliver clever retorts (Schwarzenegger's eighties films are the paramount here: "I'll be back", "I let him go," "stick around" and so forth), and go on to fight again six minutes later, but the postmodern referentiality here (and the way that characters are somehow NEVER run down by automatic weapon fire which should OBVIOUSLY have killed them about 18 times in a row) just adds to the film's too-overt citation of its legend.
Shortly after this, the film again short-hands its own narrative elements and character development: we quickly learn that the CIA and FBI are suspicious of Indy, and that the KGB is after him (it's the Cold War, after all), but this omnipresent "threat" is simply maintained as such: it's pure impetus for plot movement, not character study. We never even SEE another CIA guy after this sequence.
However, the end of the "escape from the Russians" sequence I was just describing is very noteworthy: you will hear people say that it is totally unrealistic and that CGI ruins narrative filmmaking, which might well be true (I have footnotes to that discussion but I'll save them; remind me). However, I want to go another way. Here is the narrative event in question:
Indy escapes from the Russians; he winds up in a bare Nevada landscape, sees a town, and runs down to hide. But what's this? The citizens aren't real: they're dummies. The radio runs for no one. The whole town is a sham. But why? The second we hear a countdown announced via loudspeaker, we gather it, and then the film cuts to an image of a bomb suspended in a tower, in the foreground, with the town in back. A nuclear test, to see how and if homes, cars, or nothing, will survive! Quickly, into the fridge! No time! The bomb goes off, the dummies are vaporized, a car driving away, is caught in the nuclear blast and carried away like matchsticks in a hurricane gale.
Now, obviously Dr. Jones, tucked away in his "lead-lined" refrigerator from the fifties, would have been vaporized. But I don't think that's the point. Sure, he is "blown clear" of the explosion, and gets up, to see the CGI mushroom cloud forming, and of course, the heat would fry him to a crisp in about .02 seconds. Again, that's not the point. What I thought of, primarily, in this sequence, is Spielberg's constant attention to World War II: think Schindler's List. Think of the Cold War as fallout (pun intended) from World War II. The human cost. The forty years that the superpowers spent posturing and threatening. The Cuban missile crisis. All of that history, all of that "life on the edge," the statistics about "there are enough nuclear arms on the planet, to destroy all of life FORTY TIMES OVER." That's what I thought about, not narrative implausibility. It's a downright realistic mushroom cloud, a signifier of the marvelously tragic trickery by which scientists were made to manufacture that kind of power. In a way, the whole film is ABOUT the fifties.
Post-mushroom cloud, Jones is interrogated by the spy agencies, and again, the dialogue is unrealistic, the set unconvincing (as before). After this, the film begins its adventure sequences in earnest, and the plot tightens up (not without implausibilities left and right, but the writing, itself, is tighter).
Indiana Jones is part tenured professor of archaeology, part adventurer. The film puts his tenured career role under threat; the FBI wants him fired from his job. Ahh, but the narrative trajectory here is one of recovery, even of closure, all the way back to Raiders! A young man, a "greaser," complete with leather jacket and comb and switchblade, tells Indy that "Ox," a colleague of Indy's from back in the day, is going to be killed, and the adventure begins. A riddle in an ancient language; a crystal skull; a legendary city; more gold than you can imagine. Let's go, kid! To help, the KGB guys appear, and we're on the run, complete with flight-and-superimposition-of-map (just like in Raiders) down to Peru, where a dusty floor is swept clean to provide a clue to the next location (just like in Raiders, in the "map room"!).
In at least two places in this film, odd, atemporal "tribesmen" of some sort, appear out of nowhere (do they live in these caves?), and attack our heroes. We go with it, but it's completely implausible; who are these characters? Ancient mummies are cut open, treasures are found, and then (just like in Raiders) the bad guys appear and claim what is ours, as their own. But, the bad guys have Ox, who can lead our heroes to the ancient city of legend! How convenient! We expect this kind of plotting from Hollywood now, and actually, even Raiders is plotted like this ("Truck? What truck?").
The citations of Raiders are both overt and less overt: Marion re-appears, and we find out that the kid is Indy's son, and so while in the third installment we had a "family affair" of father and son, now we have a trio, father son and mother! It's quite a re-write, and I actually enjoyed the fact that Karen Allen, over 20 years later, still has EXACTLY the same voice and intonation she had as Marion in Raiders; that was hilarious. Somewhat ridiculous and in-jokish, but hilarious. You see the film's hand early on, and you go with it. Why not?
In an attack of CGI ants, we see Indy fist-fighting with the powerful Russian, and we remember the fist-fight with the big German in Raiders, by the plane. At the end of the film, the evil Russian spy (played with just the right mix of intensity and camp by Cate Blanchett; can she do ANY wrong?) is immolated, rather like Belloq at the end of Raiders. There are "hangings off the back of vehicles" and "crashes into/through windshields" galore, again, just as in the famous, FAMOUS sequence from Raiders. To be honest, I would probably do this amount of citation, too; it's a bit more of a "spot the citation" game than we get in either Temple of Doom or Last Crusade, and it's fun; easy fun, simple-minded fun, nodding all the while to the film's appreciation of its own franchise, but it's fun. Don't tell me you went to see this and didn't expect a ton of nod-nod-wink-wink. Ah, and of course, I'm forgetting the "snake" joke; that was required!
There is plentiful riddle-solving and monument-managing, particularly in the closing sequences. Doors have to be tripped just so, levers found and pulled, caverns discovered, crystal skulls replaced, translations made, and so forth. There is plenty of that; it's all a little obvious and we're not suprised, but there are suspenseful sequences of needing to run down the retracting stairwell, of collapsing floors, and of scorpion stings. We get all of the necessary cobwebs and ancient symbols to read.
The end of the adventure, with all of the necessary bad guys punished, comes with the launch of a flying saucer; it turns out that the civilizations of old really DID come from ancient astronauts! The saucer launch is the film's best use of CGI technologies; it doesn't try to fake something real just to make it look "cool" (like the swarm of ants). The levitating stone, the massive tonnage, and then the collapse of that stone and the in-flood of the waters, "covering their footprints," almost make you believe that that's how they'd REALLY do it, if they actually existed.
The film closes as completely as Return of the King does: we see our hero not just re-established at Oxford, but made "associate dean"! Well, that's the end of that, no more "teacher/adventurer" for you, you're a bureaucrat now! Also, we see Indy and Marion get married (and we ALL know that when you get married, adventuring days are over! Hah!) and that is ALMOST the end of the film.
A strong wind blows the doors of the chapel open, and THE HAT lands at the kid's feet. He reaches for it: is this it? Is this THE KEY that we'll see a fifth film, a take on "Young Indiana Jones" that doesn't suck? (drum roll, please)
No, at least, not for certain! Indy picks up the hat just as the kid reaches for it, and he and Marion walk down the aisle, smiles wide. Cue music, roll credits. Now, they have ample material for a sequel, but they should remember, that's already been done, in a way, and it wasn't good. Careful, boys, careful. If you do it, do it right.
All told, I liked it. The jungle sequences where the son proves his "Indy-Jones-hood" are gratuitous, kind of like the jungle duel in Pirates of the Caribbean, but again, in a Hollywood potential-blockbuster, you gotta have it.
So long, Indiana Jones!
The Man in the Hat.
Go see the new installation of the Indiana Jones trilogy, it's fun. They've not over-camped it in that self-referential postmodern way, and there are glimmers galore of Raiders, all over it.
I will have more to say about its specific Spielbergisms and historical situatedness later.
I will have more to say about its specific Spielbergisms and historical situatedness later.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Intro to Intermediate (quick)
SO very nice to play yoga student again:
1) there's a room with multiple people in it, all doing the same thing
2) I am not running the show
3) significant increase in warmth from my home practice
4) dedicated space, which means I can ACTUALLY DROP my cash anxieties for an hour
5) poses behaved much better than I expected them to, given my lame practices of late
Highlights: massively big Dhanurasana after the Parsvas. LOVE that pose.
Highlights: Tittibhasana sequence ON BREATH, exit and all. Tiring as hell, but pretty to look at.
Highlights: Pincha Mayurasana, pose and exit, textbook.
Funny: I went up to Vatayanasana, set it up on the right side (right foot half-lotused, that is) and went down like a soft burning building, just a collapse of warm limbs, couldn't summon the bandhas to hold it.
Interesting: three different women got taken to near-Kapotasana in class. It is now a pose that "can be done" in the room, which, I think, bodes well for future adjustments for me.
Wrist still sore; right hip cracked open really nicely in backbends (I did five), all tingly and emotion-releasing.
Tomorrow, my calendar tells me, is a moon day. I'm STILL up at 5:30, to put together images of Berlin Dada for my class. It's a long one tomorrow: up at 5:30, work at 8:30, to teach art history at 5:00, class ends 8:15, meet partner at bar for pint of "put the day away," get home maybe 9:30, direct to sleep, repeat.
This temp job certainly builds patience and endurance, but it also profoundly sucks monkey ass.
1) there's a room with multiple people in it, all doing the same thing
2) I am not running the show
3) significant increase in warmth from my home practice
4) dedicated space, which means I can ACTUALLY DROP my cash anxieties for an hour
5) poses behaved much better than I expected them to, given my lame practices of late
Highlights: massively big Dhanurasana after the Parsvas. LOVE that pose.
Highlights: Tittibhasana sequence ON BREATH, exit and all. Tiring as hell, but pretty to look at.
Highlights: Pincha Mayurasana, pose and exit, textbook.
Funny: I went up to Vatayanasana, set it up on the right side (right foot half-lotused, that is) and went down like a soft burning building, just a collapse of warm limbs, couldn't summon the bandhas to hold it.
Interesting: three different women got taken to near-Kapotasana in class. It is now a pose that "can be done" in the room, which, I think, bodes well for future adjustments for me.
Wrist still sore; right hip cracked open really nicely in backbends (I did five), all tingly and emotion-releasing.
Tomorrow, my calendar tells me, is a moon day. I'm STILL up at 5:30, to put together images of Berlin Dada for my class. It's a long one tomorrow: up at 5:30, work at 8:30, to teach art history at 5:00, class ends 8:15, meet partner at bar for pint of "put the day away," get home maybe 9:30, direct to sleep, repeat.
This temp job certainly builds patience and endurance, but it also profoundly sucks monkey ass.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Home practice.
It's Sunday. I practiced at the decadent hour of 10 am: ahhhh, so nice, after a week of 5:30 am's with one full Primary and many mornings of trying to get the psoas/outer hips to ease off.
It is stone beautiful outside, with blue skies and budding green everything, and it's also windy (15-25 mph, they say) and about 62 degrees. The 60s seem to be my set practice room temperature, no matter whether I'm inside or out: all last week, the house was between 62 and 64.
So I took the cotton rug outside and did Primary to Bhujapidasana, which was messy and was where I totally lost the breath pace, so I just called it a practice right there, did three bridges on the rug, two sets of three wheels on the grass (better traction), and then closing, and it was marvelous.
My backbends, predictably, have retreated. I keep all of my anger, unhappiness and depression in my outer hips and psoas, so when those emotions are running high (as they have been since November when the job market really started in earnest), I can take the measurement in backbends.
I did the wheels with my eyes shut, which kept me from being aware of how bent or not my arms were in the pressups; instead, I found my attention drawn to how the low abs and outer hips felt, and I liked the change. More sensation, less judgment.
Life stuff:
I'm working this temp job for probably two more weeks, which will allow me to make all of June's loan payments, but with nothing to spare. I will need to find and commit to another job for the rest of the summer, in order, again, to make loan payments. This is how poor people live, and while I know that in January I now have a written promise of the sabbatical replacement gig, and over 20K for the year, it's lame to have to live so hand-to-mouth until then. I'm 38; I have a PhD; why am I working for $10/hour in fairly high desperation to pay my creditors?
Of course this isn't an existential question, I know exactly what the circumstances are, were, and how this all happened.
Home practice:
It's no longer about the Mysore-style imperative to practice 6/week and gradually gain poses. It's much more about, put the mat/rug down, practice, do this until it doesn't feel good (wherever that is in whichever series). Displeasure might come early in emotional or physical terms (insofar as those are even different), or it might never come. One day might be just standing poses, the next might be half of Intermediate on top of Primary. It can vary that widely. My emotional state sets my practice and that's that.
It is stone beautiful outside, with blue skies and budding green everything, and it's also windy (15-25 mph, they say) and about 62 degrees. The 60s seem to be my set practice room temperature, no matter whether I'm inside or out: all last week, the house was between 62 and 64.
So I took the cotton rug outside and did Primary to Bhujapidasana, which was messy and was where I totally lost the breath pace, so I just called it a practice right there, did three bridges on the rug, two sets of three wheels on the grass (better traction), and then closing, and it was marvelous.
My backbends, predictably, have retreated. I keep all of my anger, unhappiness and depression in my outer hips and psoas, so when those emotions are running high (as they have been since November when the job market really started in earnest), I can take the measurement in backbends.
I did the wheels with my eyes shut, which kept me from being aware of how bent or not my arms were in the pressups; instead, I found my attention drawn to how the low abs and outer hips felt, and I liked the change. More sensation, less judgment.
Life stuff:
I'm working this temp job for probably two more weeks, which will allow me to make all of June's loan payments, but with nothing to spare. I will need to find and commit to another job for the rest of the summer, in order, again, to make loan payments. This is how poor people live, and while I know that in January I now have a written promise of the sabbatical replacement gig, and over 20K for the year, it's lame to have to live so hand-to-mouth until then. I'm 38; I have a PhD; why am I working for $10/hour in fairly high desperation to pay my creditors?
Of course this isn't an existential question, I know exactly what the circumstances are, were, and how this all happened.
Home practice:
It's no longer about the Mysore-style imperative to practice 6/week and gradually gain poses. It's much more about, put the mat/rug down, practice, do this until it doesn't feel good (wherever that is in whichever series). Displeasure might come early in emotional or physical terms (insofar as those are even different), or it might never come. One day might be just standing poses, the next might be half of Intermediate on top of Primary. It can vary that widely. My emotional state sets my practice and that's that.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Day Three, Suprises, Quickly.
Up at 5:30, sleepier than yesterday. Pain to be addressed: buttocks feeling wooden, psoas downright SORE with electricity. This must be restored to normal before practicing. Spent the practice time in cobra, lightest possible twists, eventually supported bridge, easing out the psoas (too much sitting, and stress). No ashtanga to speak of, but better for it (that's simply true, some days).
Work made it better: by 10 am I could take a Camel pose on break, and I made sure to do plenty of counter-poses to eight hours of chair sitting.
Out of work at 4:30, home at 5, was told that yoga studio was having an emergency need for a sub, so I subbed for a vinyasa class of 12 people (!!!) and it ruled. But now it's almost 8 o'clock and I need to read for tomorrow's class and master Duchamp's female alter-ego and be able to talk coherently about Man Ray's photographic experiments and the machine paintings of Francis Picabia, and I need to do ALL of that prep before sleep, which is of course followed by a 5:30 practice.
I entered one thousand nine hundred and sixteen electronic test scores (that's what I do for temp work), because Dada was born as a movement in 1916. Yes, that's cheezy. But it was funny.
Readymades, sleep, ashtanga, work, class, food, sleep, then it's Friday.
Work made it better: by 10 am I could take a Camel pose on break, and I made sure to do plenty of counter-poses to eight hours of chair sitting.
Out of work at 4:30, home at 5, was told that yoga studio was having an emergency need for a sub, so I subbed for a vinyasa class of 12 people (!!!) and it ruled. But now it's almost 8 o'clock and I need to read for tomorrow's class and master Duchamp's female alter-ego and be able to talk coherently about Man Ray's photographic experiments and the machine paintings of Francis Picabia, and I need to do ALL of that prep before sleep, which is of course followed by a 5:30 practice.
I entered one thousand nine hundred and sixteen electronic test scores (that's what I do for temp work), because Dada was born as a movement in 1916. Yes, that's cheezy. But it was funny.
Readymades, sleep, ashtanga, work, class, food, sleep, then it's Friday.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Day two.
Up at 5:30, feeling better, more flexy, on the mat probably by 5:45, full Primary with rubbish balancing poses and mediocre backbends (but early morning has ALWAYS been hard on my backbends). Worked until 4:30, went downtown, taught academic class at 5, it's now 8:34 and I'm sending this from the class computer (class is 3 hours long). I haven't been inside my house since 7:30 am.
Go home, sleep, repeat. Three hour class again on Thursday, and I have light grading to do. Bloomington on Saturday for meeting and well-earned routesetting and India Pale Ale.
It's working.
Go home, sleep, repeat. Three hour class again on Thursday, and I have light grading to do. Bloomington on Saturday for meeting and well-earned routesetting and India Pale Ale.
It's working.
Monday, May 12, 2008
This is what it is to have no time.
Up at 6 am, on mat at 6:03. Sun salutations step-backs until the fourth one. Primary to Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana, when stiff hips full of sadness would have no more. I recovered enough for three bridges, had breakfast and went to work until 4:15.
Home, packed, anti-art materials for tomorrow, off to school to photocopy essential handouts for tomorrow, taught a Primary to a big, energetic class of nine.
To wake up at 5:30 and feel rested, I should have been asleep fourteen minutes ago.
Home, packed, anti-art materials for tomorrow, off to school to photocopy essential handouts for tomorrow, taught a Primary to a big, energetic class of nine.
To wake up at 5:30 and feel rested, I should have been asleep fourteen minutes ago.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Practice anxiety--(sigh)--let's put an end to this.
The reason I started to pursue a cyber-shala, first on what is now yuku.com and then in the blogosphere, was to get advice about poses I was starting to play with, and poses in which I was having difficulties (Intermediate, the former, right hip half-lotuses, the latter). The main reason I KEEP a cyber-shala is so that I do not suffer a really very obscene loneliness regarding both my practice and the specific practice I do.
BUT
at times I get anxious because I feel that I'm going to "get behind" in the cyber-shala somehow, and that's mostly because I and a few others out there don't have regular access to high-powered teachers who can "tell us when to move on," so we can't play the "I got the pose" game. This anxiety about "wanting to catch up" or "wanting to be in the running" (for what, exactly???) cycles through now and then.
SO
Disadvantages of having no formal teacher:
1) not knowing "where my practice is" in Mysore-style terms (although I still don't drop back, so I suspect it's full Primary).
2) Take my Kapo (which is the first pose I consider myself "not able to do" in full expression). MAYBE, an authorized teacher would bend me into it in a single adjustment. MAYBE i'm "stuck at it" and will be for the next five months. The thing is, I DON'T KNOW. I have to teach MYSELF how to do it, and if I don't BELIEVE that I can do it, that becomes true, and there's no authority figure to erase my doubt.
3) having no "go to the shala" routine to assist me in doing early-morning regular practice. My practice is ONE HUNDRED percent inspiration. Some days it happens at night, sometimes at 10 am, sometimes at 1 pm, and sometimes it doesn't happen. Some days it's short, some days it's long, some days it's partial, some days it's more than I thought I was going to do. Spin the wheel! See what you get!
4) related to that, not having a set "space" in which to practice. The house is, in every case, with no exception, a coordination with school work, daily life, cats, and other events. There is no isolated space, no "clean slate," no way to "put the day down" other than to raise arms, fold forward, and wait for the pratyahara to kick in.
5) no real-flesh-and-blood ashtanga community. Not that that would be ideal (communities are always uneven), but it would be simply fabulous to HAVE PEOPLE WHO DO THIS around. Thus, the cyber-shala, but the problem with the cyber-shala is that cyber-shalas are always SELECTIONS from life, and not, in a certain sense, "real."
Advantages of having no formal teacher:
1) I get to, regularly, teach my most pesky student. Me. It's a pity I can't drop him back, and show him how it's done.
2) I get to set my own practice limits, both how many poses and when practice happens.
3) I don't have to pay someone a monthly fee (and where the hell would I get THAT cash?) in order to do a practice I've got memorized.
4) I become one of the main sources for ashtanga yoga in this city, by default, just from personal exposure to the practice (now if the DESIRE for it would just match the SUPPLY...)
Really, the main problem here is that my ego doesn't get to know concretely "how good I am" at this practice, and it desperately wants to know. It is better, of course, for me as the Purusha, not to know. Live with this ambiguity, and use it to carve down the ego.
In a fashion, the "real thing" I should be blogging about practice-wise is how cool my seated meditation session was, or how much this Sutra rocks, or how sent I got from the pranayama!
After all, Patanjali spends what, three Sutras on asana, and a whole couple BOOKS of Sutras, on samadhi?
But how do I chart my asana practice so that I have a record? That is, after all, REALLY why I want occasional blog "photographs" of it. Maybe I will simply list poses and reasons for stopping wherever I do, with special notes made for the poses which are developing or which suprise me. That's really what I want.
BUT
at times I get anxious because I feel that I'm going to "get behind" in the cyber-shala somehow, and that's mostly because I and a few others out there don't have regular access to high-powered teachers who can "tell us when to move on," so we can't play the "I got the pose" game. This anxiety about "wanting to catch up" or "wanting to be in the running" (for what, exactly???) cycles through now and then.
SO
Disadvantages of having no formal teacher:
1) not knowing "where my practice is" in Mysore-style terms (although I still don't drop back, so I suspect it's full Primary).
2) Take my Kapo (which is the first pose I consider myself "not able to do" in full expression). MAYBE, an authorized teacher would bend me into it in a single adjustment. MAYBE i'm "stuck at it" and will be for the next five months. The thing is, I DON'T KNOW. I have to teach MYSELF how to do it, and if I don't BELIEVE that I can do it, that becomes true, and there's no authority figure to erase my doubt.
3) having no "go to the shala" routine to assist me in doing early-morning regular practice. My practice is ONE HUNDRED percent inspiration. Some days it happens at night, sometimes at 10 am, sometimes at 1 pm, and sometimes it doesn't happen. Some days it's short, some days it's long, some days it's partial, some days it's more than I thought I was going to do. Spin the wheel! See what you get!
4) related to that, not having a set "space" in which to practice. The house is, in every case, with no exception, a coordination with school work, daily life, cats, and other events. There is no isolated space, no "clean slate," no way to "put the day down" other than to raise arms, fold forward, and wait for the pratyahara to kick in.
5) no real-flesh-and-blood ashtanga community. Not that that would be ideal (communities are always uneven), but it would be simply fabulous to HAVE PEOPLE WHO DO THIS around. Thus, the cyber-shala, but the problem with the cyber-shala is that cyber-shalas are always SELECTIONS from life, and not, in a certain sense, "real."
Advantages of having no formal teacher:
1) I get to, regularly, teach my most pesky student. Me. It's a pity I can't drop him back, and show him how it's done.
2) I get to set my own practice limits, both how many poses and when practice happens.
3) I don't have to pay someone a monthly fee (and where the hell would I get THAT cash?) in order to do a practice I've got memorized.
4) I become one of the main sources for ashtanga yoga in this city, by default, just from personal exposure to the practice (now if the DESIRE for it would just match the SUPPLY...)
Really, the main problem here is that my ego doesn't get to know concretely "how good I am" at this practice, and it desperately wants to know. It is better, of course, for me as the Purusha, not to know. Live with this ambiguity, and use it to carve down the ego.
In a fashion, the "real thing" I should be blogging about practice-wise is how cool my seated meditation session was, or how much this Sutra rocks, or how sent I got from the pranayama!
After all, Patanjali spends what, three Sutras on asana, and a whole couple BOOKS of Sutras, on samadhi?
But how do I chart my asana practice so that I have a record? That is, after all, REALLY why I want occasional blog "photographs" of it. Maybe I will simply list poses and reasons for stopping wherever I do, with special notes made for the poses which are developing or which suprise me. That's really what I want.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Anti-art, yoga workshop, temp job.
Today I received a very large, exceedingly pretty book about the Dada (anti) movement, from Amazon. Accompanying it was a cute little book of Surrealist games. Yes, yes, it's THAT TIME of year again, it's time for Patrick to teach the infamous (!) Dada to Abstract Expressionism course at the art school (note: on a certain level, I realize that this is enough information to accurately Google me, but I guess I'm going with it; if I can't be found on this thing by NEXT YEAR's job market, I will be a super spy).
The class is two nights a week, 5-8 pm approximately, which will give me time to work a 40-hour temp job week for the next four weeks, starting at 8:30 am on Monday morning. Yes, this means that I will work, effectively, a twelve hour day twice weekly, and no, that doesn't account for the fact that I will ALSO be trying on 5 am yoga again.
But anyway, all difficulties aside, I LOVE that class. Ahh early twentieth-century anti-art manifestoes. They are like a big warm bath in absurdity. Friendly, hilarious absurdity. I asked for a show of hands as to how many students had EVER seen a Dada manifesto; TWO out of thirty. On Tuesday, they will learn something new. Oh yes. Zurich Switzerland, World War One, pianos, balalaikas, African masks, mad Rumanians ranting about urinary passages, and all at once. We will also act this out, right in the classroom.
Anyone, in the future job market, who sees me teach, will hire me. I am a HOUSE ON FIRE in a classroom.
AND!
I am teaching what is effectively a "physics of flight" workshop in June! The game is "deepen your Primary" and it's all vinyasa all the time, for two hours, up in the middle of the city, where a group of yoga practitioners (see my prior studio review) are working on Primary. That's about six weeks off.
AND!
(see how my youthful consumption of television changes my presentation? Thrills, spills and chills! Read on! What if I were to sit down and write the book I've had in mind for seventeen years? Can you imagine 300 pages of this?)
I was part of a dance-yoga-painting performance, which is run by my main teacher here, on Tuesday, and it rocked! Numerous different people, with families and lives and day jobs and such, all get together and "get their dance on" and we break it down in public; heavy improv, band improvising as well, to movement, and usually for good causes (this time, for schools which are running parent-child-school relations programs, so that home life or learning disabilities or other circumstances need not become a road away from secondary education).
Noteworthy but not important: I was asked to do a jump back-through thing while the yoga performance was ongoing (because my teacher likes me to show those off) and since it wasn't practice, I held it, on both sides, and I had never realized that I could do that. So I'm up there, face toward the floor, and it's like, uh, dude, your legs aren't touching your arms. You're pulling a kind of move that Jason might have pulled in the old days. Holy cow. And then with the swing through, I held that too, in the "half-pipe" that Swenson talks about, and after a breath or two, I extended my legs, and only later, did I think, wait a minute, that's a freakin' V-SIT.
But that doesn't matter. As Larry says, "you find out you're stronger than you think you are." So be it. The joy of it was in moving and music and audience.
Temp job on Monday! Weekend house to myself as partner is in Michigan at a big conference; time to prep a class I won't teach for five days!
The class is two nights a week, 5-8 pm approximately, which will give me time to work a 40-hour temp job week for the next four weeks, starting at 8:30 am on Monday morning. Yes, this means that I will work, effectively, a twelve hour day twice weekly, and no, that doesn't account for the fact that I will ALSO be trying on 5 am yoga again.
But anyway, all difficulties aside, I LOVE that class. Ahh early twentieth-century anti-art manifestoes. They are like a big warm bath in absurdity. Friendly, hilarious absurdity. I asked for a show of hands as to how many students had EVER seen a Dada manifesto; TWO out of thirty. On Tuesday, they will learn something new. Oh yes. Zurich Switzerland, World War One, pianos, balalaikas, African masks, mad Rumanians ranting about urinary passages, and all at once. We will also act this out, right in the classroom.
Anyone, in the future job market, who sees me teach, will hire me. I am a HOUSE ON FIRE in a classroom.
AND!
I am teaching what is effectively a "physics of flight" workshop in June! The game is "deepen your Primary" and it's all vinyasa all the time, for two hours, up in the middle of the city, where a group of yoga practitioners (see my prior studio review) are working on Primary. That's about six weeks off.
AND!
(see how my youthful consumption of television changes my presentation? Thrills, spills and chills! Read on! What if I were to sit down and write the book I've had in mind for seventeen years? Can you imagine 300 pages of this?)
I was part of a dance-yoga-painting performance, which is run by my main teacher here, on Tuesday, and it rocked! Numerous different people, with families and lives and day jobs and such, all get together and "get their dance on" and we break it down in public; heavy improv, band improvising as well, to movement, and usually for good causes (this time, for schools which are running parent-child-school relations programs, so that home life or learning disabilities or other circumstances need not become a road away from secondary education).
Noteworthy but not important: I was asked to do a jump back-through thing while the yoga performance was ongoing (because my teacher likes me to show those off) and since it wasn't practice, I held it, on both sides, and I had never realized that I could do that. So I'm up there, face toward the floor, and it's like, uh, dude, your legs aren't touching your arms. You're pulling a kind of move that Jason might have pulled in the old days. Holy cow. And then with the swing through, I held that too, in the "half-pipe" that Swenson talks about, and after a breath or two, I extended my legs, and only later, did I think, wait a minute, that's a freakin' V-SIT.
But that doesn't matter. As Larry says, "you find out you're stronger than you think you are." So be it. The joy of it was in moving and music and audience.
Temp job on Monday! Weekend house to myself as partner is in Michigan at a big conference; time to prep a class I won't teach for five days!
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
I have officially voted in the Indiana Primary.
It's May 6th, and this is a big day if you're in Indiana, because the state finally MATTERS (or sure has been led to believe that it does) in the Presidential Primary. There are cars driving puzzledly up and down my little neighborhood, stopping in schools, fire stations, and other locales, in order to vote. It's pretty cool to see so much public action in this state.
Rarely do politicians--and never, in my experience, at the federal level--take time with radio ads (and probably tv ads, but I don't have tv in the house; my television is simply a monitor for Netflix DVDs) in this state. Indiana has long, LONG, been considered a Republican give-away state, and for that reason, the Rep's don't bother trying to swing it, and the Dem's often don't bother trying to sway it. So this potential, the very IDEA that one's vote can make a BIG federal DIFFERENCE, generates state-wide excitement. This is a truly uncommon spotlight.
I voted at just after 7:30 am, and was counted electronically (paper ballot, but fed into an electronic voting box) as voter #98. That's pretty cool, given that a few years ago, one could vote at 10 am and be counted #12 or so.
A word about Indiana's "Republicanism": in 2006, the state voted out three major Republican players, but in 2007, it also voted in a Republican whose motto was simply "Want change?" (said change was addressed to an obscenely high jump in property taxes). Notably, federal platforms this upcoming election are also running themselves in large part on a "want change?" argument; we'll have to see how this goes...
This is a red state in large part because of its evangelical population (who have been swayed, unfortunately, by "moral majority" style platforms) and because of the success of "values voting" (and I mean that in the "What's the Matter with Kansas" model) and because of rich white-flight suburbanites in the north end of the city. The big college town in the south is quite blue, as are certain of the Chicago suburbs up north; I believe I heard somewhere that Indianapolis itself, tends to vote blue; those flatlands north and south, and out both east and west, however, tend to be big ole fields of red.
Rarely do politicians--and never, in my experience, at the federal level--take time with radio ads (and probably tv ads, but I don't have tv in the house; my television is simply a monitor for Netflix DVDs) in this state. Indiana has long, LONG, been considered a Republican give-away state, and for that reason, the Rep's don't bother trying to swing it, and the Dem's often don't bother trying to sway it. So this potential, the very IDEA that one's vote can make a BIG federal DIFFERENCE, generates state-wide excitement. This is a truly uncommon spotlight.
I voted at just after 7:30 am, and was counted electronically (paper ballot, but fed into an electronic voting box) as voter #98. That's pretty cool, given that a few years ago, one could vote at 10 am and be counted #12 or so.
A word about Indiana's "Republicanism": in 2006, the state voted out three major Republican players, but in 2007, it also voted in a Republican whose motto was simply "Want change?" (said change was addressed to an obscenely high jump in property taxes). Notably, federal platforms this upcoming election are also running themselves in large part on a "want change?" argument; we'll have to see how this goes...
This is a red state in large part because of its evangelical population (who have been swayed, unfortunately, by "moral majority" style platforms) and because of the success of "values voting" (and I mean that in the "What's the Matter with Kansas" model) and because of rich white-flight suburbanites in the north end of the city. The big college town in the south is quite blue, as are certain of the Chicago suburbs up north; I believe I heard somewhere that Indianapolis itself, tends to vote blue; those flatlands north and south, and out both east and west, however, tend to be big ole fields of red.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Practice outside: wow!
I have some anxiety about May 12, when my temp job starts and when I OFFICIALLY move my asana practice to 5 am, in the hopes of doing, regularly, all of Primary and a good piece of Intermediate, six days a week. That is a TALL order, my friends.
But today showed my substantial power; I taught my noon class, went outside with the rug, put it down in the quite-tall backyard grass, and raised arms over head, folded forward, and so on. You know how it goes.
Salutations: suprising flexibility, which I found that I would have all practice long.
It's tough to balance and jump back on grass, the surfaces being uneven, but I got used to it with fast quickness. My front leg lunge in Vira 1 is getting downright horizontal.
Padang/Hastasana: unsuprising.
Triks: deep. Easy toe grab. Eyes shut due to excessive sunshine.
Parsvakonasanas: Bigger than usual, notably! Good verticality of the top ribs, going to the left, which I often have to struggle for, and hand to ground, with some ease, in BOTH parivrtta sides, which is REALLY uncommon, I haven't even TRIED that for over a month. Looks like my twists are re-opening, hurrah!
Prasaritas: Big, again, which was the theme of the day. My hands don't touch the earth in C yet but my head has been grounded for all four of these since a year ago.
Parsvotta: unremarkable; deeper, consistently, left than right.
Utthita Hasta: balance challenge on the right, just fine on the left. Remember to pull the big toe AGAINST the hand, and to lower the shoulder of the hip grabbing hand. Chill; easy breathing, easy poses makes.
Padma padottanasana: still some challenge in the outer hips (unsuprising) but easy folding and more regularly now, I'm getting nose to kneecap.
Utkat/Viras: easy sun salutation entries; keep breathing, breathing MAKES those transitions. Ribs UP in Utkatasana, that's the pose. Nice deep lunges in Vira, like in sun salutations. Suprising, apparently, since it got my attention so well.
Vinyasa: this was some of the best vinyasa EVER. Suprising lightness, even though my feet touched the rug plenty, going both back and through. Today I learned that I prefer to POINT my feet when I jump; flexing the feet was just snagging the rug and making it all impossible. But pointed feet is like, inhale, take it up, swing it back with suprising bandha force. Freakin' JUST LIKE Sharath describes it. Inhale, bandhas, jump.
Paschimo: par for the course. Toes, deep, sides, deep, nearly a wrist grab, deep.
Purvo: easier then when I started this practice, that's for dang sure. Hands and feet FLAT is KEY.
Ardha padma: flexible by this time. Easy to swing the foot up, grab, inhale, virtually on classical breath pace (which is FAST, man). Side of foot, no worries, both sides.
Tiriang: still wondering if i REALLY have the second sit bone down, but easy wrist grabs beyond the foot.
Janus: finger clasp beyond foot in A; wrist beyond foot in B; finger clasp in C. It is all, for me, about the outer hips and the quadratus lumborum. C particularly cranks open the front lateral hip, which is like AHHHHHHHHHHHH, thanks I needed that! (skin bracer!!)
Maris: not as "depowering" as they have been in the past. A, to be honest, was GIGANTIC. Deep bind, full wrist grab, long spine forward. Wrists in B, but with some strain; lean forward, push the arm against the shin and feel the hip socket operate. Wrists, FINALLY AGAIN, in C, both sides. Going right in C, I feel the action in the outer hip; going left in C, I feel the action in the thoracic spine. Interesting pair of poses. I took a hand, virtually a wrist, going right in D; foot flat, knee down. Beautiful pose. Going left was still a bit of a struggle; handful of fingers, good bind, but upright leg could be straighter and twist could be deeper. Still, nobody stopped me in it, ever, in SF, and that's my only authorized experience, so, onward!!
Navasana: some shaking, but easier when I think about maintaining the lumbar curve. Five rounds, legs straight, arms straight, down, inhale up, exhale, navasana. Got the vinyasa exit (which for my money is the hardest vinyasa in all of Primary).
Bhuja: still not jumping in, and who cares. Feet crossed, arms slipped down some as I rolled forward, chin to rug, five, up. Titti, low and wide, Bakasana low, jump. Pressed the sore left wrist out for a few breaths.
Kurmasanas: not jumping in, and who cares. Pick feet up (as if jumping in), sat down, extended, heels off ground, big pretty tortoise. Knees up, wiggle feet in, hands back, grabbed a handful of fingers, bound arms first, then crossed right ankle over left, took five breaths, tried to remain calm, undid hands, pressed up, feet stayed over head (nice!) and Titti, Bakasana, jump. Press wrist out again.
Garbha: easy wrapup (great lotus day, actually), and decent rolls (which, again, are challenging on grass and uneven ground), but no Kukku; I rolled up, felt wrist pain, and left my butt on the ground; I have all the mechanisms for Kukku, and I've hit it numerous times, but I just was not in the mood for more wrist pressure today. Jump back with lotus, but can't undo it (so I land in a "lion pose" position).
Baddha: toes like necklace, with the forward bend straight back, toes to chin and head to rug, with forward bend rounded back. Thanks for sittin' on me a year ago, Clayton! Changed my version of that pose, forever!
Konasanas: deep but not chest to floor in Upavistha, and still cannot pull up right into the balanced version, but can stick it (looking straight up helps engage bandhas). Supta Konasana took me two rollups, but I stuck it nicely.
Supta Padangusthasana: loving this pose. Maehle says to treat it like a situp not a hamstring stretch; I'm getting chin to shin, both sides, and loving the parsvasahita variation to the side, feeling the stretch in the opposite outer hip. Bring it up, bow, let it go, chakrasana (my first chakrasana is often my best one, and I land in chaturanga).
Ubhaya and Urdhva: great, almost lost it, but pulled the lumbar spine IN toward the navel, looked up and stuck it. STILL do not roll up into Urdhva Paschimo with straight legs, but roll up, extend, point, and today was able to bring face to knees and hold, with shoulders down.
Setu Bandhasana: I've always loved this pose, forehead roll and all. Was able to do it early in my days with Primary. Today's was energetic, one line, toes to eyeballs, arms crossed and floating.
Pasasana: of course I went on! This is my goal, after all. Going to the left, I bound it, handful of fingers, on toes. Going right, I started on toes, and FELL BACK to flat feet, and still stuck it, handful of fingers. Lucky!
Krounchasana: nice; with breathing and intent, brought shin to face, both sides.
Shalabhasana: wasn't quite in the mood, but held A for five, pressed up and LOOKED UP more in B, held for five. Looking up, for me, is KEY to holding the lil backbends of Intermediate.
Bhekasana: I still don't feel like I get the whole chest expansion here, but I press both feet down (my left fingertips touch the rug; right ones nearly do) and look up as much as I'm able. It's almost entirely about the quads, and it feels great.
Dhanurasanas: not my biggest, but low ribs were just barely floating, with a little action in the thoracic. That's enough. The Parsvas began with some tension in the front lower hip (that is, right hip when lying right), but this EASED OFF with five breaths. Yay! Breathe into it; make this your mantra! The final round was tiring at about breath three, but I'm glad I have developed the endurance to handle it.
Ustrasana: took a few breaths to set up. I wasn't in the mood for this either, but I arched back, took the heels, and pressed the FEET down (as I've heard somewhere). It's fine. Remember to let the glutes go.
Laghuvajrasana: i'd still like advice about how exactly the arms go, but today's version was arch back, wrap hands around ankles, lean back, top of head just BARELY touches floor, take five, LEAVE HEAD BACK, press up. The hand wrap on each ankle makes it much easier (is that legal?).
Kapotasana: my first big modification in Intermediate. I arch back (easy), I even hang for a breath (which has gotten easier, breath much more calm) and then I drop back (kitten paw soft, as Anna would say it), walk in once, and press up for five (hands about 4-5 inches from feet). Sometimes I try to bind my hands behind my head, but I just wasn't in the mood to make it ugly today. I would LOVE a "pull hips forward" adjustment, but that's not gonna happen in home practice. Down to Supta Virasana, up and vinyasa.
Supta Vajrasana: started with rug rolled up behind, but that wasn't comfortable, so I tried keeping my hands on my feet in each one-breath dropback, and usually I have to totally let go, but today I just let go, and then as I sat up, I could easily retake the toes (that's uncommon). I did five of those, making it more about the toes than about the back, but it nicely undid the backbending.
Bakasanas: A was easy (it always is), arms straight, shoulders forward of hands. Jumped back, rolled out the wrist, eased the soreness. Three jumps before I could land and stick B (that happens, sometimes). Again, rolled out wrist after.
Twists: flexiest Bharadvajasana EVER. Easy half-lotus and grab, and hand under knee was FLAT, and I mean, totally flat (that's uncommon). Still smooth vinyasa, and then Ardha Matsyen was fun and brilliant; big stretch in the glutes, one hand to back thigh, other hand to arch of foot. I LOVE that pose.
Eka Pada: I was more cranked for Intermediate post-Kapo; that's lingering anxiety which often colors my practice of this sequence. I reminded myself that this practice had been VERY flexy, and so when I passed the ponytail to the left (out of the foot's way), I simply took rightie up, tucked it behind my head, inhaled up in A, exhaled down to one of the most cozy B's I've ever done for five, and ACTUALLY HIT the Chakorasana exit for one breath! No "compass pose" prep or anything! Boo yah! Now, I did lose the leg as I swung through, but hey, this ain't no Advanced A practice, I'll take it! Exactly the same on the second side!
Dwi Pada: I moved to the side of the garage, in order to have support for this (the effort I made in the backyard had thighs slipping forward of my shoulders). Rightie goes back first, and then I pressed back against the garage, took leftie up, and bound the ankles, but then had to press up and forward and sort of butt-walk around until I could balance, and what happened was that I rounded out in the pose and was fighting to keep my feet behind my head, because I'm not UPRIGHT enough to hold it. Ahh, so THAT is the mystery! I did press up for five, but it was awkward with my back over-rounded.
Yoganidrasana: This is easy to get into, but I'm still too round and I know it. Chakrasana was lower, and my head wasn't as off the ground as it should have been, but this was a lot of practice.
Tittibhasanas: i didn't jump into A, of course, but I extended up nicely into it (and I think my legs are straight; I'd need a photo to see). Feet down, duck between, wrap around, bind hands, five breaths. It was a pleasant B. For C, I really attended to breathing: inhale, foot up, foot down, exhale. One at a time, breathe first, move second. Really eases off the burn. After C, I did D, the way that apparently isn't done anymore (Charlie Chaplin feet, lean in, hands meet in front of ankles, take five). The five-breath A exit was lazier, feet up but legs just not as straight as the entry; easy, fun swing to Bakasana, jump.
Pincha Mayurasana: my goal pose for the afternoon. It took two jumps, but I hit it, balanced it, moved my gaze to the back of the rug, held for eight breaths, inhaled, timbered down, and landed in chaturanga (with a quite audible effort exhale). Up, down, jump through, backbends.
Backbends: two sets of two wheels each. I wanted a single run of three, but there was a LOT of action in the front right thigh, exhaustion energy. I didn't walk my hands in; it was more about holding than exploring. These have retreated on me somewhat, but that's fine. There's fear in the front thighs, low abs. It's fine, I accepted it. Garage dropbacks: four in all. I'm dropping back just under kneecap high, and on the fourth one, I walked down into a full wheel, which really cranked open the thoracic; I tried, but couldn't stand up from there. However, I walked my hands back up about a foot high, and I COULD spring up from there. It's coming.
Commentary on the practice as a whole: doing a practice this long is like marathon running or any long-distance or endurance activity. There's some threat early on, when you feel the body turn from readily available to not-so-ready energy reserves, but once that happens, it's suddenly freer, easier, the body isn't threatened with sweat, isn't worried about anything, you go sort of autopilot. The mind really shuts up, the threat is over. Bend, fold, take it up, whatever. Wonderful. One with the grass, with the sun, permeable, flexible, at ease.
Closing: the main thing I "can't do" is make lotus without my hands. I'm back to a ten-breaths press up in headstand, and lotus seems to be coming really quickly and readily.
The shocker of all of this?
The whole practice took a little UNDER TWO HOURS.
Five a.m., here we come. I CAN DO THIS.
But today showed my substantial power; I taught my noon class, went outside with the rug, put it down in the quite-tall backyard grass, and raised arms over head, folded forward, and so on. You know how it goes.
Salutations: suprising flexibility, which I found that I would have all practice long.
It's tough to balance and jump back on grass, the surfaces being uneven, but I got used to it with fast quickness. My front leg lunge in Vira 1 is getting downright horizontal.
Padang/Hastasana: unsuprising.
Triks: deep. Easy toe grab. Eyes shut due to excessive sunshine.
Parsvakonasanas: Bigger than usual, notably! Good verticality of the top ribs, going to the left, which I often have to struggle for, and hand to ground, with some ease, in BOTH parivrtta sides, which is REALLY uncommon, I haven't even TRIED that for over a month. Looks like my twists are re-opening, hurrah!
Prasaritas: Big, again, which was the theme of the day. My hands don't touch the earth in C yet but my head has been grounded for all four of these since a year ago.
Parsvotta: unremarkable; deeper, consistently, left than right.
Utthita Hasta: balance challenge on the right, just fine on the left. Remember to pull the big toe AGAINST the hand, and to lower the shoulder of the hip grabbing hand. Chill; easy breathing, easy poses makes.
Padma padottanasana: still some challenge in the outer hips (unsuprising) but easy folding and more regularly now, I'm getting nose to kneecap.
Utkat/Viras: easy sun salutation entries; keep breathing, breathing MAKES those transitions. Ribs UP in Utkatasana, that's the pose. Nice deep lunges in Vira, like in sun salutations. Suprising, apparently, since it got my attention so well.
Vinyasa: this was some of the best vinyasa EVER. Suprising lightness, even though my feet touched the rug plenty, going both back and through. Today I learned that I prefer to POINT my feet when I jump; flexing the feet was just snagging the rug and making it all impossible. But pointed feet is like, inhale, take it up, swing it back with suprising bandha force. Freakin' JUST LIKE Sharath describes it. Inhale, bandhas, jump.
Paschimo: par for the course. Toes, deep, sides, deep, nearly a wrist grab, deep.
Purvo: easier then when I started this practice, that's for dang sure. Hands and feet FLAT is KEY.
Ardha padma: flexible by this time. Easy to swing the foot up, grab, inhale, virtually on classical breath pace (which is FAST, man). Side of foot, no worries, both sides.
Tiriang: still wondering if i REALLY have the second sit bone down, but easy wrist grabs beyond the foot.
Janus: finger clasp beyond foot in A; wrist beyond foot in B; finger clasp in C. It is all, for me, about the outer hips and the quadratus lumborum. C particularly cranks open the front lateral hip, which is like AHHHHHHHHHHHH, thanks I needed that! (skin bracer!!)
Maris: not as "depowering" as they have been in the past. A, to be honest, was GIGANTIC. Deep bind, full wrist grab, long spine forward. Wrists in B, but with some strain; lean forward, push the arm against the shin and feel the hip socket operate. Wrists, FINALLY AGAIN, in C, both sides. Going right in C, I feel the action in the outer hip; going left in C, I feel the action in the thoracic spine. Interesting pair of poses. I took a hand, virtually a wrist, going right in D; foot flat, knee down. Beautiful pose. Going left was still a bit of a struggle; handful of fingers, good bind, but upright leg could be straighter and twist could be deeper. Still, nobody stopped me in it, ever, in SF, and that's my only authorized experience, so, onward!!
Navasana: some shaking, but easier when I think about maintaining the lumbar curve. Five rounds, legs straight, arms straight, down, inhale up, exhale, navasana. Got the vinyasa exit (which for my money is the hardest vinyasa in all of Primary).
Bhuja: still not jumping in, and who cares. Feet crossed, arms slipped down some as I rolled forward, chin to rug, five, up. Titti, low and wide, Bakasana low, jump. Pressed the sore left wrist out for a few breaths.
Kurmasanas: not jumping in, and who cares. Pick feet up (as if jumping in), sat down, extended, heels off ground, big pretty tortoise. Knees up, wiggle feet in, hands back, grabbed a handful of fingers, bound arms first, then crossed right ankle over left, took five breaths, tried to remain calm, undid hands, pressed up, feet stayed over head (nice!) and Titti, Bakasana, jump. Press wrist out again.
Garbha: easy wrapup (great lotus day, actually), and decent rolls (which, again, are challenging on grass and uneven ground), but no Kukku; I rolled up, felt wrist pain, and left my butt on the ground; I have all the mechanisms for Kukku, and I've hit it numerous times, but I just was not in the mood for more wrist pressure today. Jump back with lotus, but can't undo it (so I land in a "lion pose" position).
Baddha: toes like necklace, with the forward bend straight back, toes to chin and head to rug, with forward bend rounded back. Thanks for sittin' on me a year ago, Clayton! Changed my version of that pose, forever!
Konasanas: deep but not chest to floor in Upavistha, and still cannot pull up right into the balanced version, but can stick it (looking straight up helps engage bandhas). Supta Konasana took me two rollups, but I stuck it nicely.
Supta Padangusthasana: loving this pose. Maehle says to treat it like a situp not a hamstring stretch; I'm getting chin to shin, both sides, and loving the parsvasahita variation to the side, feeling the stretch in the opposite outer hip. Bring it up, bow, let it go, chakrasana (my first chakrasana is often my best one, and I land in chaturanga).
Ubhaya and Urdhva: great, almost lost it, but pulled the lumbar spine IN toward the navel, looked up and stuck it. STILL do not roll up into Urdhva Paschimo with straight legs, but roll up, extend, point, and today was able to bring face to knees and hold, with shoulders down.
Setu Bandhasana: I've always loved this pose, forehead roll and all. Was able to do it early in my days with Primary. Today's was energetic, one line, toes to eyeballs, arms crossed and floating.
Pasasana: of course I went on! This is my goal, after all. Going to the left, I bound it, handful of fingers, on toes. Going right, I started on toes, and FELL BACK to flat feet, and still stuck it, handful of fingers. Lucky!
Krounchasana: nice; with breathing and intent, brought shin to face, both sides.
Shalabhasana: wasn't quite in the mood, but held A for five, pressed up and LOOKED UP more in B, held for five. Looking up, for me, is KEY to holding the lil backbends of Intermediate.
Bhekasana: I still don't feel like I get the whole chest expansion here, but I press both feet down (my left fingertips touch the rug; right ones nearly do) and look up as much as I'm able. It's almost entirely about the quads, and it feels great.
Dhanurasanas: not my biggest, but low ribs were just barely floating, with a little action in the thoracic. That's enough. The Parsvas began with some tension in the front lower hip (that is, right hip when lying right), but this EASED OFF with five breaths. Yay! Breathe into it; make this your mantra! The final round was tiring at about breath three, but I'm glad I have developed the endurance to handle it.
Ustrasana: took a few breaths to set up. I wasn't in the mood for this either, but I arched back, took the heels, and pressed the FEET down (as I've heard somewhere). It's fine. Remember to let the glutes go.
Laghuvajrasana: i'd still like advice about how exactly the arms go, but today's version was arch back, wrap hands around ankles, lean back, top of head just BARELY touches floor, take five, LEAVE HEAD BACK, press up. The hand wrap on each ankle makes it much easier (is that legal?).
Kapotasana: my first big modification in Intermediate. I arch back (easy), I even hang for a breath (which has gotten easier, breath much more calm) and then I drop back (kitten paw soft, as Anna would say it), walk in once, and press up for five (hands about 4-5 inches from feet). Sometimes I try to bind my hands behind my head, but I just wasn't in the mood to make it ugly today. I would LOVE a "pull hips forward" adjustment, but that's not gonna happen in home practice. Down to Supta Virasana, up and vinyasa.
Supta Vajrasana: started with rug rolled up behind, but that wasn't comfortable, so I tried keeping my hands on my feet in each one-breath dropback, and usually I have to totally let go, but today I just let go, and then as I sat up, I could easily retake the toes (that's uncommon). I did five of those, making it more about the toes than about the back, but it nicely undid the backbending.
Bakasanas: A was easy (it always is), arms straight, shoulders forward of hands. Jumped back, rolled out the wrist, eased the soreness. Three jumps before I could land and stick B (that happens, sometimes). Again, rolled out wrist after.
Twists: flexiest Bharadvajasana EVER. Easy half-lotus and grab, and hand under knee was FLAT, and I mean, totally flat (that's uncommon). Still smooth vinyasa, and then Ardha Matsyen was fun and brilliant; big stretch in the glutes, one hand to back thigh, other hand to arch of foot. I LOVE that pose.
Eka Pada: I was more cranked for Intermediate post-Kapo; that's lingering anxiety which often colors my practice of this sequence. I reminded myself that this practice had been VERY flexy, and so when I passed the ponytail to the left (out of the foot's way), I simply took rightie up, tucked it behind my head, inhaled up in A, exhaled down to one of the most cozy B's I've ever done for five, and ACTUALLY HIT the Chakorasana exit for one breath! No "compass pose" prep or anything! Boo yah! Now, I did lose the leg as I swung through, but hey, this ain't no Advanced A practice, I'll take it! Exactly the same on the second side!
Dwi Pada: I moved to the side of the garage, in order to have support for this (the effort I made in the backyard had thighs slipping forward of my shoulders). Rightie goes back first, and then I pressed back against the garage, took leftie up, and bound the ankles, but then had to press up and forward and sort of butt-walk around until I could balance, and what happened was that I rounded out in the pose and was fighting to keep my feet behind my head, because I'm not UPRIGHT enough to hold it. Ahh, so THAT is the mystery! I did press up for five, but it was awkward with my back over-rounded.
Yoganidrasana: This is easy to get into, but I'm still too round and I know it. Chakrasana was lower, and my head wasn't as off the ground as it should have been, but this was a lot of practice.
Tittibhasanas: i didn't jump into A, of course, but I extended up nicely into it (and I think my legs are straight; I'd need a photo to see). Feet down, duck between, wrap around, bind hands, five breaths. It was a pleasant B. For C, I really attended to breathing: inhale, foot up, foot down, exhale. One at a time, breathe first, move second. Really eases off the burn. After C, I did D, the way that apparently isn't done anymore (Charlie Chaplin feet, lean in, hands meet in front of ankles, take five). The five-breath A exit was lazier, feet up but legs just not as straight as the entry; easy, fun swing to Bakasana, jump.
Pincha Mayurasana: my goal pose for the afternoon. It took two jumps, but I hit it, balanced it, moved my gaze to the back of the rug, held for eight breaths, inhaled, timbered down, and landed in chaturanga (with a quite audible effort exhale). Up, down, jump through, backbends.
Backbends: two sets of two wheels each. I wanted a single run of three, but there was a LOT of action in the front right thigh, exhaustion energy. I didn't walk my hands in; it was more about holding than exploring. These have retreated on me somewhat, but that's fine. There's fear in the front thighs, low abs. It's fine, I accepted it. Garage dropbacks: four in all. I'm dropping back just under kneecap high, and on the fourth one, I walked down into a full wheel, which really cranked open the thoracic; I tried, but couldn't stand up from there. However, I walked my hands back up about a foot high, and I COULD spring up from there. It's coming.
Commentary on the practice as a whole: doing a practice this long is like marathon running or any long-distance or endurance activity. There's some threat early on, when you feel the body turn from readily available to not-so-ready energy reserves, but once that happens, it's suddenly freer, easier, the body isn't threatened with sweat, isn't worried about anything, you go sort of autopilot. The mind really shuts up, the threat is over. Bend, fold, take it up, whatever. Wonderful. One with the grass, with the sun, permeable, flexible, at ease.
Closing: the main thing I "can't do" is make lotus without my hands. I'm back to a ten-breaths press up in headstand, and lotus seems to be coming really quickly and readily.
The shocker of all of this?
The whole practice took a little UNDER TWO HOURS.
Five a.m., here we come. I CAN DO THIS.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Thirty Eight.
I am thirty eight years old today.
Apparently, as I've heard it from my parents, who adopted me on July 1, 1970, I am the child of a blond college-age artsy woman, who apparently gave me up for adoption solo; I have no information about the biological father. They told my parents, "This one will likely have talents in the arts."
But with time, I did some math. May 3, 1970 is EXACTLY eight months and two weeks after the Woodstock festival. I was born in Cambridge, MA, home to Harvard Square and other deliciousness, and hippified to the nines at that time. If you were a blond chick in college with artsy tendencies, you'd have gone, wouldn't you? I would have.
So I like to believe that I was conceived in a mud puddle during one of the biggest, loudest, Hendrixiest love-ins in the twentieth century. Satchidananda did the opening ceremonies, remember, and Santana did a truly ass-kicking rendition of "Soul Sacrifice." It was good times.
That is how my legend begins, when I finally sit down to write it.
Onward!
Apparently, as I've heard it from my parents, who adopted me on July 1, 1970, I am the child of a blond college-age artsy woman, who apparently gave me up for adoption solo; I have no information about the biological father. They told my parents, "This one will likely have talents in the arts."
But with time, I did some math. May 3, 1970 is EXACTLY eight months and two weeks after the Woodstock festival. I was born in Cambridge, MA, home to Harvard Square and other deliciousness, and hippified to the nines at that time. If you were a blond chick in college with artsy tendencies, you'd have gone, wouldn't you? I would have.
So I like to believe that I was conceived in a mud puddle during one of the biggest, loudest, Hendrixiest love-ins in the twentieth century. Satchidananda did the opening ceremonies, remember, and Santana did a truly ass-kicking rendition of "Soul Sacrifice." It was good times.
That is how my legend begins, when I finally sit down to write it.
Onward!
Friday, May 2, 2008
A studio review and a meme!
Today I went uptown to explore what seemed to be a primary series class (you know those are getting downright few and far between, in the city). Here's the deal: First series inspired, two teachers when they're both available, modifications, eventually a Mysore-style sort of individual practice (but without, I think, the "you stop here" rule of a classical Mysore practice).
The studio is smallish, but it's in an arts village (read: expensive rent), and the yoga room still fits about 20 people comfortably as long as nobody falls out of an inversion or does a clumsy chakrasana (hah!). Often, that's PLENTY of space in town, because yoga classes here are huge if they hit a dozen people.
The staff is friendly, the sign-in and leave-your-gear is easy, the studio has one door in/out, glass in front, often curtained over for semi-dark. The room is VERY warm, I would estimate at least 85 degrees (which I wasn't used to, but more about that below). I brought a mat (my new Jade Harmony, which I'm also not used to) and my Mysore rug and I'm glad I did; I would have slipped all OVER a rubber mat.
SIXTEEN, by my count, students. For an ASHTANGA class in this town??!!!??? That is GI-freaking-GANTIC!! Apparently the intro version of the practice that they'd led there, got really popular, like "no space available" popular, so they kicked it up a notch, and so on Fridays, there is this "semi-led" Primary, which really, was pretty fun.
Partially led: 2 sun salutation A's led, 3 on our own. 2 led B's, 3 on our own. Led standing forward bends, and entrances and exits from each pose, but not much direction about how to do or what to do; people didn't seem to need much of this, which was cool; if a pose called for half-lotus, the direction was given; sometimes a warning about the knees; good, if spare, cues. Well done. I did NOT, as is my habit, Mysore my way through this one; I stayed on pace. Many poses were held the equivalent of 8-10 of my breaths, but that was fine too. Now, often in a led most-of-Primary, the "poses to cut" are Janu C, Mari D and some of the "crown jewels" of the five poses which follow Navasana. Here, we did all THREE Janu's and, get this, all FOUR Mari's (milagro!!!). Amazing.
Navasana, five rounds, and then up to Garbha Pindasana and we went to closing, which was also led (with modifications) and which everyone seemed to do just fine. Many people in the room are not quite sure what to do with Bhujapidasana, to say nothing of the exit; same for Supta Kurmasana; this is fine. Today's class was the second time they'd done this "expansion" class, so people have plenty of time to learn.
Heat: I'm not, of course, after a whole bunch of home practices at 59 degrees, accustomed to 80-90 degree heat. I started sweating when I just walked INTO that room. By the time that the A's were over, I was in pouring sweat, and by the time we got into standing poses, I was a bit dizzy. However, I persisted, doing it with breath, asking the body to cool down, and throughout the practice, I could actually FEEL the radiating heat, coming particularly from the palms of my hands, like a big pile of wooly thread, a sort of oval energy. Very trippy stuff; true, maybe also what light heatstroke feels like, but I'm down for ANYTHING that's trippy.
Post-class was very, very high; I'd parked some distance away, and the whole practice caught up with me big time on the walk back; slight disorientation, really deep "presentness," the desire to be around people, to just watch reality be trippy. That's me, post-yoga, when it works :)
Anyway, great class; true, I can do Primary with my eyes closed whenever I want to (well, not LITERALLY with my eyes shut), but still, great class. I'll be talking it up in town.
And now, we present, the meme that's been going around!
I am: a warrior telling his own legend
I think: that cats are messengers, somehow, avatars, something
I know: somehow that everything is always fine
I want: spring to keep settling in like a big pretty scented bath
I have: plans, man, now that i can see (hah!) some of the future
I wish: that there was more company, more often, more intimately
I hate: the viciousness of poverty, but there's beauty in it too
I miss: my long-haired, quintessentially fickle cat (r.i.p. may 2007)
I fear: little, these days
I feel: odd contentment, moment to moment, knowing that if i look up, it's gone
I hear: birds singing, a single dog barking; no, make it two
I smell: the remains of bleach on my hands (blah!)
I crave: the streets of a big western city (a certain one)
I search: for the witch doctor's tribe
I wonder: how i will ever communicate the wisdom of being, say, 70
I regret: all of the time i have spent in fear
I love: all of those detailed moments where i paid full attention
I ache: to have better managed those past relationships and what not
I care: about this election, even if it doesn't, in certain ways, matter
I always: wanted to be far out, and now that i am, i realize that was silly
I am not: capable any more of making those same mistakes
I believe: that we see the big picture before the transition, and that it's wonderful
I dance: when i'm swept up and so is everyone else
I sing: along to blues songs
I cry: rarely, and a good one would do me so well
I fight: less than i used to
I write: fiction, more and more, even when it's about real life
I win: don't we all?
I lose: track of when things happen, but not of the things themselves
I never: knew there were so many of me even when whitman told me so
I confuse: the locations of articles when i'm looking for a citation
I listen: more now that i'm older and don't need to be heard so much
I can usually be found: in coffeehouses, libraries, microbreweries
I am scared: of certain insects until i remember
I need: communities, tribes, gatherings, festivals
I am happy about: this unending health, this fierce power, this obvious faith
The studio is smallish, but it's in an arts village (read: expensive rent), and the yoga room still fits about 20 people comfortably as long as nobody falls out of an inversion or does a clumsy chakrasana (hah!). Often, that's PLENTY of space in town, because yoga classes here are huge if they hit a dozen people.
The staff is friendly, the sign-in and leave-your-gear is easy, the studio has one door in/out, glass in front, often curtained over for semi-dark. The room is VERY warm, I would estimate at least 85 degrees (which I wasn't used to, but more about that below). I brought a mat (my new Jade Harmony, which I'm also not used to) and my Mysore rug and I'm glad I did; I would have slipped all OVER a rubber mat.
SIXTEEN, by my count, students. For an ASHTANGA class in this town??!!!??? That is GI-freaking-GANTIC!! Apparently the intro version of the practice that they'd led there, got really popular, like "no space available" popular, so they kicked it up a notch, and so on Fridays, there is this "semi-led" Primary, which really, was pretty fun.
Partially led: 2 sun salutation A's led, 3 on our own. 2 led B's, 3 on our own. Led standing forward bends, and entrances and exits from each pose, but not much direction about how to do or what to do; people didn't seem to need much of this, which was cool; if a pose called for half-lotus, the direction was given; sometimes a warning about the knees; good, if spare, cues. Well done. I did NOT, as is my habit, Mysore my way through this one; I stayed on pace. Many poses were held the equivalent of 8-10 of my breaths, but that was fine too. Now, often in a led most-of-Primary, the "poses to cut" are Janu C, Mari D and some of the "crown jewels" of the five poses which follow Navasana. Here, we did all THREE Janu's and, get this, all FOUR Mari's (milagro!!!). Amazing.
Navasana, five rounds, and then up to Garbha Pindasana and we went to closing, which was also led (with modifications) and which everyone seemed to do just fine. Many people in the room are not quite sure what to do with Bhujapidasana, to say nothing of the exit; same for Supta Kurmasana; this is fine. Today's class was the second time they'd done this "expansion" class, so people have plenty of time to learn.
Heat: I'm not, of course, after a whole bunch of home practices at 59 degrees, accustomed to 80-90 degree heat. I started sweating when I just walked INTO that room. By the time that the A's were over, I was in pouring sweat, and by the time we got into standing poses, I was a bit dizzy. However, I persisted, doing it with breath, asking the body to cool down, and throughout the practice, I could actually FEEL the radiating heat, coming particularly from the palms of my hands, like a big pile of wooly thread, a sort of oval energy. Very trippy stuff; true, maybe also what light heatstroke feels like, but I'm down for ANYTHING that's trippy.
Post-class was very, very high; I'd parked some distance away, and the whole practice caught up with me big time on the walk back; slight disorientation, really deep "presentness," the desire to be around people, to just watch reality be trippy. That's me, post-yoga, when it works :)
Anyway, great class; true, I can do Primary with my eyes closed whenever I want to (well, not LITERALLY with my eyes shut), but still, great class. I'll be talking it up in town.
And now, we present, the meme that's been going around!
I am: a warrior telling his own legend
I think: that cats are messengers, somehow, avatars, something
I know: somehow that everything is always fine
I want: spring to keep settling in like a big pretty scented bath
I have: plans, man, now that i can see (hah!) some of the future
I wish: that there was more company, more often, more intimately
I hate: the viciousness of poverty, but there's beauty in it too
I miss: my long-haired, quintessentially fickle cat (r.i.p. may 2007)
I fear: little, these days
I feel: odd contentment, moment to moment, knowing that if i look up, it's gone
I hear: birds singing, a single dog barking; no, make it two
I smell: the remains of bleach on my hands (blah!)
I crave: the streets of a big western city (a certain one)
I search: for the witch doctor's tribe
I wonder: how i will ever communicate the wisdom of being, say, 70
I regret: all of the time i have spent in fear
I love: all of those detailed moments where i paid full attention
I ache: to have better managed those past relationships and what not
I care: about this election, even if it doesn't, in certain ways, matter
I always: wanted to be far out, and now that i am, i realize that was silly
I am not: capable any more of making those same mistakes
I believe: that we see the big picture before the transition, and that it's wonderful
I dance: when i'm swept up and so is everyone else
I sing: along to blues songs
I cry: rarely, and a good one would do me so well
I fight: less than i used to
I write: fiction, more and more, even when it's about real life
I win: don't we all?
I lose: track of when things happen, but not of the things themselves
I never: knew there were so many of me even when whitman told me so
I confuse: the locations of articles when i'm looking for a citation
I listen: more now that i'm older and don't need to be heard so much
I can usually be found: in coffeehouses, libraries, microbreweries
I am scared: of certain insects until i remember
I need: communities, tribes, gatherings, festivals
I am happy about: this unending health, this fierce power, this obvious faith
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Let's open May with McCarthy, shall we?
As another blog online is haunted regularly by Cormac McCarthy, I'd briefly like to cite something:
Have a look at the New York Review of Books, on McCarthy's *The Road*:
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/19856
The final paragraph settles my opinions about the book fairly still; in part, it reads:
"What emerges most powerfully as one reads The Road is not a prognosticatory or satirical warning about the future, or a timeless parable of a father's devotion to his son, or yet another McCarthyesque examination of the violent underpinnings of all social intercourse and the indifference of the cosmic jaw to the bloody morsel of humanity..."
I took away the "parable of devotion" from my reading of the book, and because I'd read some of McCarthy's most violent stuff (Blood Meridian, Outer Dark, chunky sections of Suttree, All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing), I was under-impressed with this as a moral. Heavy literary minimalism with a "yay family" theme? WTF????
The latter McCarthy, described above as writing about the "violent underpinnings of all social intercourse..." and such, now THAT writer is one I really, really like. What I was aware of in my reading of The Road is that the book was NOT by THAT McCarthy; however, I couldn't locate the McCarthy who HAD written it, so I came away puzzled.
Michael Chabon (our humble author, above) reads McCarthy's book as an abyss of fear felt by parents. That, I'm willing to believe.
Still, I find myself attracted to the "dark metaphysicians" who inhabit McCarthy's woods and frontier landscapes, the wonderful "anti-Hollywood" of his books, the refusal to put on rose-colored glasses and the insistent destroying of anyone who does. In part my puzzled response to The Road comes from the whittling down of this binary which so deeply and thoroughly colored my early readings of McCarthy. Note, of course, that No Country for Old Men has this particular binary in SPADES. So do writers like de Sade, Surrealists, Lautreamont (and there's the link to Gothic horror; see the review above) and so on and so forth.
Predictably, I like McCarthy when he is at what you might call his MOST FRENCH.
Have a look at the New York Review of Books, on McCarthy's *The Road*:
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/19856
The final paragraph settles my opinions about the book fairly still; in part, it reads:
"What emerges most powerfully as one reads The Road is not a prognosticatory or satirical warning about the future, or a timeless parable of a father's devotion to his son, or yet another McCarthyesque examination of the violent underpinnings of all social intercourse and the indifference of the cosmic jaw to the bloody morsel of humanity..."
I took away the "parable of devotion" from my reading of the book, and because I'd read some of McCarthy's most violent stuff (Blood Meridian, Outer Dark, chunky sections of Suttree, All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing), I was under-impressed with this as a moral. Heavy literary minimalism with a "yay family" theme? WTF????
The latter McCarthy, described above as writing about the "violent underpinnings of all social intercourse..." and such, now THAT writer is one I really, really like. What I was aware of in my reading of The Road is that the book was NOT by THAT McCarthy; however, I couldn't locate the McCarthy who HAD written it, so I came away puzzled.
Michael Chabon (our humble author, above) reads McCarthy's book as an abyss of fear felt by parents. That, I'm willing to believe.
Still, I find myself attracted to the "dark metaphysicians" who inhabit McCarthy's woods and frontier landscapes, the wonderful "anti-Hollywood" of his books, the refusal to put on rose-colored glasses and the insistent destroying of anyone who does. In part my puzzled response to The Road comes from the whittling down of this binary which so deeply and thoroughly colored my early readings of McCarthy. Note, of course, that No Country for Old Men has this particular binary in SPADES. So do writers like de Sade, Surrealists, Lautreamont (and there's the link to Gothic horror; see the review above) and so on and so forth.
Predictably, I like McCarthy when he is at what you might call his MOST FRENCH.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)