why is it…

that every human on the planet is searching for something else. something better than what they have? why is it that my married friends husbands hit on me constantly, surreptisiously pinching my ass as we stand close to each other talking to other people. why is it that i feel every guy in the bar is sizing me up. why is the first question “do you have a boyfriend”, and why is it that no women will talk to me. i am STARVING for female interaction.

squatting
my forehead pressed against wood
staring at the lines on the door
the lines on my face
the lines in the snow
a moment of lucidity
a second of connectivity
pupil to pupil
eye to eye
second to second
flow
flow through
flow through me
through me
me

the zen of sea glass

the posture is familiar. a slow shuffling gait, meandering this way and that, tracing some imaginary curving line, head bowing forward, hands in pockets.

along certain lengths of the beach you’ll find several folks in this meditative space, occasionally folding forward to pick up one of those tiny bits of tumbled human detritus. the fascinating thing is how elusive these bits of glass can be, and yet some people seem to have a gift…is it luck? experience? it’s something about getting your eyes on. two people can be looking at the same spot and the sea glass will ‘pop out’ to one clear as day.

there is a hierarchical value to the finds…white appearing to be the most common, then rolling rock green, and budweiser brown…deep blue like an arizona ice tea bottle is fairly unique but the rarest and most coveted is the old timey vintage coke bottle blue-green. this is my favorite. someone told me recently they had found some red beach glass. but i don’t believe it exists.

it seems most everyone here collects these bits, displaying them in various ways. most locals don’t pick up shells nearly as much. we do pick up some of the bigger oyster shells to use along the walks around the house. it’s cool because over time we’ve gotten a collection and it’s fun to realize that you’ve carried these back a few at a time from walks on the shore.

moving on…

ok, sorry for the temper tantrum in the previous post but…well, frankly, i’m feeling the pressure to say SOMETHING for NaBloPoMo and that was the only thing on my mind in the moment i had to write…irony – all day i had been teaching people to chill out and breathe, obviously i need to take a bit of my own advice.

p.s. take this as one of my make-up posts please…

FULL OF GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR…

full of so much grrrrrrrrrr at this moment…after a good day volunteering and giving a presentation (giving, giving). happy happy. to come home to a place where i feel completely and totally unappreciated, where i feel i have to spin in circles and wear flashy objects to get attention, and beyond that how dare i expect help carrying all the groceries and stuff for the yummy dinner i planned to cook for you up the stairs and oh by the way did you even think to ask me about the interview i had and the new job i just got today since all you’ve done is get on my case about the FUTURE and my lack of gainful employment.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

GRRRRRRRR!

grr.

NaBloPoMo


Um, what?

so i just joined this NaBloPoMo…kind of accidentally. i just wanted to know what the fuck it stood for since i saw the damn logo all over the god-damn place. it stand for National Blog Posting Month (in case you haven’t figure it out yet).

i’m supposed to post everyday during the month of november. and now i’m committed and as per my usual habit – actually joining the game a little late. so take this as my officail IOU – 4 posts…do you think the powers that be will give me a make-up for these, i mean i didn’t even know there was a test until today.

i figure since i’m an out of work writer and an internet addict this shouldn’t be too much of a challenge. it’s a nice time to flex those creative muscles, stretch the vocabulary (by the way i had to look up this word today: sidereal – it means: that which is from the stars, or calculated by them), practice some random writing exercises, and mostly pretend i’m looking for work.

so. there. 21+4 to go! awwww yeah!

one path or many?

a friend asked me recently…why do some peolple enjoy practicing one particular style of yoga, ashtanga, vs the way she and i do it, which is more intedisciplinary, more varied. going to different studios, different teachers.

as i thought more about it, i realized i’m such a sponge for knowledge and experience and i love to try new things. i think i’m pretty grounded by nature and so the day in an day out practice of ashtanga isn’t something i feel i’m lacking BUT don’t get me wrong, i’m know i (and anyone) would benefit tremendously by just engaging in a daily ashtanga practice.

when i do get to enjoy the primary series i love it, and i love the repetition and i can totally see why someone could only do ashtanga for their whole life. there is an amazing depth that comes from the experiment that is ashtanga. and by that i mean the series itself, the sameness is the ‘control group’. while all the variety – the day, the weather, your mood, what you ate, where you hurt, the emotions that bubble to the surface…all of that allows you to begin to see your own patterns, seeing your life, your place in the world, your unity, against that consistency is so powerful. and all this is fascinating…but in my case the real reason i don’t practice ashtanga comes down to lack of discipline – i just can’t get my ass out of bed at 6am to go to mysore! i set my alarm, i have the coffeemaker set to have the coffee brewed at 5:59 but i just don’t/won’t/can’t get up.

i don’t think i’d ever want to teach ashtanga either…in some ways i reach an entirely different set of people with my yoga, many for whom the physical practice of ashtanga would just be too strenuous and so i give them something, and when i do get to practice ashtanga, or go to another instructor and have my own insights, i bring these teachings to them. and too the separation gives me a place to just be a student…

i can be dense sometimes

And in the end
The Love you take
Is equal to the
Love you make
~Paul McCartney

maybe i never truly even thought about it until this moment, but this little verse is really what life is all about, no?

god i’m sappy this morning.