Livin' In Your Own Private Apocalypse

When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.
Haruki Murakami

…2012 less than a month old, I’m starting to suspect the Mayans may’ve been right...but, apparently, they were just talking about me…

…have written up a couple of different versions of a post with this title...(apologies to the B-52's as well as John the Revelator)…decided the first was too dark, personal, and downright depressing…so, a week or so later, re-did it…before rapidly deciding the second version was also too dark, personal, and downright depressing…

…so, perhaps, it’s just as well my hard drive went kablooey earlier this afternoon...after yin yoga class and the Sunday morning meditation group....taking with it those attempted posts and some personal writing too miserable to even be considered for this merry-if-sometimes-mildly-sardonic blog...if not the thoughts and feelings that inspired them, though it does feel just a bit like an expensive and unexpected cleaning of the slate...along with, apart from some handwritten notes, most of the work done on a project I was hoping to complete this weekend, which I’m gonna be really busy re-doing for the next couple days...which, at least, makes me a bit grateful I haven’t been all that productive in the past few weeks since last backing up files...

...even seasonal depression, apparently, has its uses...keeping the best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men modest...as well as providing an excuse to support my local Girl Scouts and scarf down an entire box of Thin Mints...

...and, who knows...maybe we could all use a little apocalypse now and then...

Yoga Cynic Koan #45987

.

.

.

.

~ Is a kale smoothie still a kale smoothie if you add tequila? ~

.

.

.

.

.

Meditating Into 2012

...sitting quietly on an old striped cushion I’ve found...Coltrane playing Greensleeves softly on the mp3 player, mixing suddenly with sounds of fireworks....I remain sitting a few minutes more...

...upstairs in mom’s house, where I’m spending the weekend, the house where I grew up, home to memories and dust motes that never fail to make me sneeze...last night mom told me about rolling Easter eggs on the White House lawn during the Hoover administration...she met Eleanor Roosevelt and Bette Davis, voted against Joe McCarthy, and said she was going to bed as soon as 2012 hit...

...2011 might be called my year of lots of yoga and not a hell of a lot else...yoga teacher training and, eventually, just a little bit of actual teaching, then more training, and a bit more teaching...and even more practicing...earlier this evening drove downtown for my last class of the year, two hours with the legendary Simon Park and a live DJ...mat so drenched with sweat halfway through I could barely move without slipping, but that was okay...felt like I died and came back more than once, and that was good, too...

...2012’s first sunrise yet to come and I’m seeing a lot of daunting challenges, probably some of the biggest I've faced in life, straight ahead...(and I'm not talking about Mayan prophecies)...walls to walk through, waves to ride....endless opportunities to breath, relax, feel, watch, allow...and repeat...