The Yoga Cynic Speaks of Rivers* (and “Real Yoga”)

It’s comin’ on Christmas, they’re cuttin’ down trees
They’re puttin’ up reindeer, singin’ songs of joy and peace,
Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on...
Joni Mitchell

I am the river, and, therefore, a connecting thread between the living and the dead, just like the stories that speak to us in the night, I take on the likeness of past times and past events too, I am the river. But the river is just the river. Nothing more.
Javier Marías

...was in the café, post-meditation, imbibing that special kinda prana known as coffee...when this guy at the next table started talking about yoga...specifically, real yoga****...

...if you feel the need to brag about your practice, it’s probably nothing to brag about...
Ancient and Revered Yoga Cynic Sutra 451:968

...how great, generally, his practice is...how any real yogi is vegetarian...how much better ashtanga is than other kinds of yoga... how much better ashtanga yoga is than sitting meditation...since, y’know, anybody can sit in a dark room*****....somewhere in there, I turned my headphones back on...(one o’ those yamas or niyamas has gotta say something about eavesdropping)...



* apologies to Langston Hughes...**

** and, yeah, I know, apart from the quotes, the post really doesn’t have anything to do with rivers*** (that’s not even a river in the picture...it’s the Wissahickon Creek...though it did get pretty river-like last summer when it flooded)...

*** or maybe it does....whaddaya want me to do?!...explain my metaphors to you?!...

**** real yoga (noun): the kind of yoga I happen to practice. (antonym: whatever kinda yoga you happen to practice) (courtesy, the Yoga Cynic’s Dictionary)

***** leaving me thinking that, given how much difficulty I’d experienced sitting in a semi-lighted room for forty-five minutes, struggling with drowsiness, a laundry-list of physical discomforts, and a, one might say, river of past, present, and future troubles, a mere hour or so before, I may just barely qualify as anybody...******

****** which, now that I think of it, could mean I’m on the threshold of transcending individuation and a realizing ultimate oneness with the universe....have to look that one up...

Playing With Puppies

A fellow blogger commented on my last post: “I order you to go play with puppies this instant!” I suspect there may be some implication here that recent Yoga for Cynics posts have, perhaps, indicated a somewhat introverted, depressed and/or generally out-there state of mind. Could be. As a shrink once said, after an hour in which I'd brilliantly subverted her every attempt at introducing a more positive outlook, “it’s rough inside your head!” Point taken.

And yet, alas, I have no puppies at hand. Nonetheless, here’s a picture of my good friend Fargo, who's moved to Colorado, so I don’t get to play with him much these days.
It's nearly impossible to do yoga around Fargo, and he's anything but a cynic. That has not, however, kept me from writing fragments of an epic poem about him, collectively known as the Fargo Cantos (imaginary gardens with real dogs in them), including the following:

Because I could not stop for Fargo—
he kindly jumped up –
and got mud all over my pants

and:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and Fargo—
He kinda ran back and forth between them, like a maniac.
And that has made all the difference

and who could forget:

What happens to a dog deferred?

Does he curl up
like a pillow on the couch?
Or growl and snarl
like Oscar the grouch?
Does he slobber on your knee
Like a leaky hose?
Or whine, bark and puke
right on your toes?
Maybe he just slumps down
on his furry butt

Or does he go nuts?

or:

Fargo! Fargo! Barking bright,
In the backyards of the night,
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

Apologies to Ezra Pound, Marianne Moore, Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, Langston Hughes, and William Blake. And thanks to April for the pic, and to Dano MacNamarrah for a lovely blog award that I can't figure out how to paste into this post (so it's in the sidebar).