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Everything converges. Starting here.

Then there’s this:

Now The Cop’s post-mountain-bike-accident, pre-osteopath’s-intervention pinkie:

And finally, picture #7.

“Don’t you want to see the others?” the photographer asked.

Today I had to get a headshot done for work. I’d managed to elude the head of PR for quite a while, but she finally showed up in my office on Friday. We use images of authors on white papers and reports and presentations — and she had arranged a visit for me with her photographer.

“There is nothing I hate more than having my picture taken,” I told her. She dismissed that with a wave of her hand.

So I drove to the studio and sat there under the lights, in my buttoned up jacket on a 108 degree day in the desert. The photographer’s studio is totally cool — an old barn that’s been renovated and is now a studio and gallery. He has a great selection of work dotting the walls, from abstract, architectural etchings to conceptual combos of words and photographs, to some straight up documentary-like photos of contemporary cowboys. Plus an exquisite set of 15 foot high wooden doors from an old church in Mexico.

As he was setting up, I jokingly commented that his camera was certainly a lot more complicated than my iPhone. He pulled out a new iPhone 4 and told me how impressed he is with the quality of the flash and the images. I mentioned the Hipstamatic app that I love so much.

I looked at the first handful of the dozens of shots he’d taken and settled on the seventh. I am not remotely interested in looking at myself more than that. The only parameter from the head of PR is that the photo has to look professional. Easy enough to do with a nice jacket, a little extra attention to makeup, and a lot of product and praying for my crazy hair.

I’m kind of surprised at my lack of …curiosity? …concern? What if there was a better picture in there, a better picture than number 7? Meh. Whatever. There are some vrttis I can do without.

“I have puppy exhaustion,” I announced to The Cop this morning. Indeed, Daisy is an utter joy — she is the happiest, bounciest, most irrepressible creature I’ve ever met. But man, is she a handful. For one thing, she rolls around in her crate all night. Every hour on the hour, she snorts and flips herself over in her crate — it sounds like someone repeatedly throwing a huge pot roast onto a counter top. At 4:15, she snuffles and scratches and flips some more, then whines to get out. Bleery, I open the crate, and she falls out, rolling over herself to get to me and Waylon, wiggling and snorting and biting at us as best she can.

Adorable.

Holy crap, though, I’m tired.

***

New book. Essentials of Hinduism. Another great read. I am always thrilled when I find a new interest — every book about it is a joy, a whole new world opens up. (Go ahead, ask me a question about old school alpine climbing or about whaling in the American Northeast. Or shipwrecks! God, I love reading about shipwrecks.)

It’s always curious to me how we have/develop affinities. If you’d given me this book 10 years ago, I would have glanced through, said, “Yeah, that seems interesting,” and put it down. Now I can’t wait to get home and have at it. Curious.

***

This morning was the first morning Daisy got into her crate in the yoga room by herself. I love the routine of dogs; I love that they like sleeping or watching as humans do yoga. During supta vajrasana, my head was right up against the crate. There I was, upside down, and I looked up and straight into Daisy’s green eyes as she calmly watched me do the posture.

Maybe it’s crazy, but I feel like dogs who watch yoga are preparing for a next lifetime, or remembering past ones. Creating (or sustaining) an important affinity.

So in Buddhism, there is reincarnation, but not of an individual soul. Basically, you “return to the one.” Hinduism posits an individual soul. I guess my intuitions about dogs and yoga are more aligned with the Hindu belief system, which is as it should be.

Okay, enough from this exhausted mind. I chatted with Owl this morning, and now I have a little tune playing in my head (always appropriate, as the Beatles tend to be): And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.

Don’t forget, you guys. We’re here to make energy to share with the others. (Yogi Manifesto)

Cave of the sacrum. We’re all familiar with that (thanks, RF!).

In the flotation therapy pod on Saturday (of course I went back!), I was struck by how empty my head was. Nice. The darkened pod as container a strong metaphor for the inside of my skull — as if I were a tiny figure floating in there. Except in the dream, the pod/skull is thick black rubber. I have no idea why.

Nevertheless, it is a womby container for the empty that is inside the figure inside the skull that isn’t me.

How do I know? By the breath.

The breath gets cave-y and resonant in the empty. Indication of and access to.

During Ashtanga practice, that same cave-y breath. I can hear the empty in my head (which I love and am accustomed to). There is a new cave, though, which I can intuit, if not actually feel. Cave of the heart. This frightens me. I am accustomed to the heart being full.

Full or empty, same or different?

If listening to Swami Jyotirmayananda isn’t enough for you, and you want a more formal education on philosophical aspects that underlie this practice of ours: check it out.

Next round of sessions begins in October. Registration begins in August. The price is right, there’s lots of flexibility, and as Sati points out, being able to recite and riff on the eight limbs of Ashtanga does not a comprehensive education make.

I’ve been reading The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Hinduism, and I’ve got to say: it’s a great way to get started. I have all kinds of tidbits floating around in my head, thanks to many teachers and many classes, and this book has been a good way to start organizing some of those concepts. Plus it’s an entertaining read.

So I’ll be signing up for the October session at Oxford Centre for Hindu Studies. You get 12 weeks to complete the material. At first, I thought, “I’ll do all four!” Now, though, I’m thinking I should be reasonable — they run the courses every October and April. No need to be greedy…

I was so inspired by Jaime’s float adventure that I looked online to see if there were any float places in Arizona. Believe it or not, there is a new “float spa” about 3 miles from me! I went on Saturday for my first float and have one booked for next week. I loved it. I had always wanted to try a sensory deprivation tank. Of course, now they’re called flotation therapy pods, but whatevs.

Here’s a picture from their website.

How could you go wrong with 1,000 pounds of Epsom salts, right? Throw in darkness and silence, and you’ve got a perfect environment. The only other thing I wish they had (“Oxygen bar,” you’re thinking, right? “They should have an oxygen bar!” Well, they do. In a darkened room with a huge round fish tank.) — so the other thing they should have is an EEG machine so you can check out your brain waves afterwards. I felt like I shifted into theta in about 30 seconds.

***

Up early for practice this morning, then off to DC for the week. Heading to an executive compensation conference, then an advisory board meeting at our DC office. Gonna be long hours and very early mornings, so it’ll be hotel practices only. At least I’ll be treated to some nice humidity.

The Cop is taking a couple of days off to dog-sit. Daisy is too young to spend a whole work shift in her crate, so he’ll be hanging out with Waylon and “Little Pig” (her nickname since she snorts as she bustles about the house and yard).

Obviously this has to be a great podcast for me to bother typing a blog entry one-handed as Daisy chews on my other hand or jumps up trying to bite my hair.

Right at the very beginning Swami Jyotirmayananda talks about the relationship of Buddhism to Hinduism. After years of practicing zazen, and now years of practicing Ashtanga, I just knew the relationship was strong, but this is the first time I’ve heard someone say that Buddhism is a “blossom” of Hinduism. Maybe that’s a really obvious thing to say?

He is pretty dramatic, in terms of blurring the lines: says Buddha was an incarnation of Vishnu, and that instead of “Hare Rama, Hare Krishna,” one might say, “Hare Rama, Hare Krishna, Hare Buddha.”

Anyhow, check it out.

***

Wake-up time is moving back rather steadily. Daisy was up and ready to roll at 3:30 this morning. I don’t mind too much because next week I’ll be in DC for work. We’ll be offering an educational session at a conference, and the days will start early (on site at 7 AM). So I might as well roll back the body clock — in order to be at the venue at 7, I’ll be getting up at 4. I try not to think too miuch about the fact that that’s 1 AM, Arizona time…

***

List of Yesterday: Practice was leisurely since The Cop didn’t leave for work ’til 10. Waylon, running wildly through the yard with Daisy, crashed into one of the porch’s support beams and gave himself a black eye. My Gift and her girlfriend came over to meet Daisy — and loved her, of course! I made a huge pot of aloo gobi and some yummy naan. Karma yoga = service to dogs.

Pretty girl.

Keep away:

Bitey game:

Break time:

Resume play:

Waylon is patiently trying to teach Daisy the pulling game. He brings toys and dangles them in front of her, waiting for her to latch on and engage in a tug of war. She is still easily distracted, though — she’ll play for a few moments, then run off to something else. His patience will pay off eventually. I stepped in and played for a bit, but already he prefers playing the game with another dog.

***

Waylon makes crazed runs through the backyard — he revs up just outside the sliding glass door in a patch of grass, then speeds across the back yard into the gravel area. There’s a corner with a block wall (where I always worry he’s going to crash) and then an obstacle course of palm tree, creosote bush, sage bush, mesquite tree. Daisy checked out the course last night, climbing up onto the high pile of gravel in the corner, where Waylon’s mad dashes have created a banked turn. This morning she ran after him, floppy and waddling as he tore around the loop. Her running made him even more crazy, so at 5 AM, I was chasing wild dogs through the backyard, trying to at least stay close to her so he wouldn’t bowl her over.

***

Daisy woke from her yoga crate nap at setu bandhasana. Uh oh, I was afraid I’d have to bail to take her outside. But she just sat there contentedly. The Cop woke up and took both of the dogs outside as I started backbends. Nice.

Closing poses, I’m in halasana. Daisy waddles over from the kitchen, where she’s just had some water, sits herself next to my head and shoves her soaking muzzle between my thighs and my face. My laughter caught Waylon’s attention, and he came over and shoved his head in, too. Halasana with two wet dog faces. Very funny.

Daisy! Yup, that’s her name. Petunia was a close runner up.

***

Daisy is super food motivated. As I was preparing dinner, she worked up her courage and took a flying leap, trying to get up on the counter. Missed by three feet, but it was a noble attempt.

***

Waylon’s favorite game (aside from the bitey game), is the pully game. He pulls, I resist, he drags the object out of my hands, then returns so you can give it another try. Sure enough, he had his blue cloth snake & brought it by for Daisy to grab. They pulled a bit and he won. He stood there for a moment, then went back to her and dipped his head down so she could grasp the other end of the snake. Round two goes to Waylon. And round three. And four. You get the picture.