Playing With Blocks

...all we can really experience, or be truly aware of, is the present moment...the right here and right now...like all those yogis & Buddhists’ll tell ya...(when they’re not going on about past lives or India)....but, at the same time, like any neuroscientist can tell ya, it’s actually impossible to be aware of or experience the present moment...the brain doesn’t work like that...by the time you’re aware of or experience anything, it’s already past...


...spent last Saturday on a weekend bed-and-breakfast yoga retreat way up-state...(I’m now proud owner of a pine-scented eye-pillow...seeing how much I was enjoying it, someone commented that I’m becoming a metrosexual...I said I’d probably have to stop buying my clothes at EMS to make that happen)...woke up for the first of three awesome, healthy meals with good friends, morning yoga class, a couple long walks along the creek and a climb to the top of a mountain (overlooking the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania...which, admittedly, could fit, along with the Grand Canyon of New York at Letchworth, and the various grand canyons of other eastern states, into a small side canyon of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado in Arizona...but is lovely nonetheless)...(see pics)...restorative yoga class, and a post-dinner-and-red-wine Thai massage....and it occurred to me that this really wasn’t a day I could complain much about...


...with the women at the rehab, I focus mostly on GED preparation and literacy, but now and then, with someone more advanced in her education, get to work with creative writing and journaling...encouraging letting-loose on the page, freeing-up the creative voice...almost invariably resulting an empowering and enjoyable experience, for everyone involved, when we see what blossoms on the page....but it’s also a difficult, and often daunting, frightening process...giving what can seem a terrifying concreteness on the page to thoughts one would like to push away, no matter how consistent and inevitable the failure to do so...requiring encouragement, gentle prodding, and understanding from the supposedly more-together teacher-person....and, ultimately, it's all about honesty...

...I haven’t written anything this week, she said, head hanging low....that’s okay, said the teacher, neither have I...

Vanity, Vanity, All Is...Beauty Tips From a Yoga Cynic

It’s said that Persian rug weavers intentionally weave imperfections into their rugs, since only God can be perfect. With all due respect to their spiritual humility, I can do even better: I can be imperfect without even trying.

He believes in beauty, he’s Venus as a boy....
Bjork

People often ask “how do you manage to be so good-looking?” “How can you stand to be such a stud? and” “Doesn’t it hurt to constantly exude such overwhelming manly beauty?” A hundred years ago, apparent-expert-on-the-female-experience William Butler Yeats wrote: “'To be born woman is to know-Although they do not talk of it at school-That we must labour to be beautiful.’” In these metrosexual times, however, it’s not just women doing the laboring.

Of course, as any yoga teacher worth the studio fee will tell you, it’s inner beauty that counts. Well, lemme tell ya, I got that inner beauty shit out the wazoo—it’s oozing out my pores to the point that it not only radiates outward but gives me acne, shingles, and psoriasis in the process. I spread joy and love like a $5 gigolo spreads...you get the idea.

Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone.
Dorothy Parker

Nonetheless, let’s face it, there’s more to beauty than that: there are consultants, loads of expensive brand name products, and, of course, my personal studliness advisor and cosmetic surgeon, Dr. Julio. What do the babes want? Having consulted a range of well known studs including Paul Giamatti, James Gandolfini, Rush Limbaugh, and Karl Rove, I narrowed it down to the following: 1) there’s no sign of virility like a receding hairline, 2) they don’t call ‘em love handles for nothin’, and 3) need I explain the masculine appeal of a big, hairy butt? As such, my status as a babe magnet owes everything to Dr. Julio. (Then, considering all he owes to the cash I’ve laid out for 563 distinct cosmetic procedures—his Aspen condo, 150 ft. yacht, cocaine addiction, and lengthy stints dealing with said addiction in exclusive rehab facilities where he got to do group therapy with movie stars—I’d say it all evens out. Balance is everything). Having quite effectively moved hair from forehead to lower regions, Dr. Julio did his most significant work using the medical miracle known as reverse liposuction. I won’t go too much into the gory details of this procedure, but will point out that, while it might seem to go against all that all-natural holistic yoga stuff, there is nothing that makes me feel more connected with my fellow human beings than the knowledge that a significant portion of what is now me resided not long ago inside the voluminous thighs of a bank manager from San Jose....

Beauty—be not caused—It Is—
Chase it, and it ceases—
Chase it not, and it abides—

Overtake the Creases

In the Meadow—when the Wind
Runs his fingers thro' it—
Deity will see to it
That You never do it—
Emily Dickinson

Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.
Confucius