Quinoa, raw corn, sunflower seeds, chopped carrots, black olives, tamari, olive oil, lemon juice.

Protein bars

Mashed banana, chopped dates, oats, peanut butter, hemp protein powder, sesame seeds, maple syrup.

Dog food

Ground raw chicken legs and thighs — bones, fat and all.

Hemp protein powder

Yes, there is one that is super-powdery and melts easily in liquid. Now I don’t have to worry about wearing hemp grit in my teeth to afternoon meetings.

Snake(s)

The one I found: it’s either a lyre or a night snake, according to Russ at the Phoenix Herpetological Society. He responded to my email and pictures within 10 minutes. It was kinda getting to me, watching the dogs play out in the yard and not knowing whether there was a rattlesnake living in the grass.

Saturday night, The Cop and I were in the back yard. I saw a movement, the thrashy sidewinding way snakes move when they’re in a hurry.

“Look! A snake!” I said.

It was a tiny one, much smaller than the one I saw on Thursday.

Not sure what’s going on out there, reptile-wise. Lots of ‘em, and they all seem especially bold. On the other hand, I haven’t seen or heard a coyote in ages.

Fly

Yesterday’s delightful holiday nap was marred by an enormous divebombing fly in the bedroom. His mission, apparently, was to cavort on human skin and buzz more loudly than any fly has ever buzzed before. I fell asleep with the sheet pulled up over my head.

Last night, as I was falling asleep, The Cop announced, “I may have to terminate this.” I fell asleep, so I’m not sure how it turned out.

Daisy

You’d think since she went to bed late, after spending the afternoon and evening patrolling the perimeter, barking at neighbors who dared celebrate the holiday outdoors, tormenting Waylon, jumping up trying to bite The Cop’s wrapped hand, attacking the lawnmower, the weed whacker, me, my shoes, the curtains, and the fence that keeps her out of the yoga room, she’d sleep in a little. Not so. 4 AM is wake-up time. If I carefully ignore the progressively more frantic scratching, whining and crate-biting for 10 minutes, it’s like hitting the snooze button: she crashes for another 10-20 minutes. Three rounds of ignoring bought me 40 extra minutes of sleep this morning, in three micro-bursts.

Love

this picture of a beautiful kapotasana, along with a post
by someone who clearly thinks about more
than what it looks like.

Here is the basic prescription for any question: Open the hips, then the back. Heal the knees (by opening the hips, then the back). If you want to do the next pose, perfect all the previous ones. If you want to start Second Series, deepen the backbends. If you want to do Third Series, don’t. You probably shouldn’t. If you are frequently injured or miss practices, scale back or do primary only until the inconsistency is all gone for a long time. Never, ever skip practice. And implicitly: don’t feel sorry for yourself, work hard, give thanks to your teachers, breathe deep, defer to SKPJ in all things, and make offerings to Ganesh.

Or, as Soen Sa Nim said (before Nike ever thought of it): Just do it!

***

Fun with the dehydrator! Right now on my desk, there’s a little zip-lock bag of dried salted kale leaves and crispy turnip chips, and a bag of dried apple rings and pineapple wedges. All very yummy. But I’ll tell you what: I consider the dehydrator worth its price and the amount of space it takes up (kind of a lot), just for the unbelievable deliciousness of raw flax crackers.

I’ve always had little tea splatters under my desk from tossing my tea bags into the waste basket. Now there’re a few flax seeds under there, too. I’m pretty convinced a human could live happily on flax crackers and tea. The Cop will definitely disagree on this. He is amused by the dehydrator, particularly when I tell him I can use it to squirrel away food for the coming apocalypse (he’s always ready for that eventuality).

Yup, we’ll be set for the apocalypse. Guns and ammo? Check! Large, protective dog? Check! Dried food? Check! Ice dancing routine? Check!

I was a bit skeptical, of course — how could other people singing The Beatles’ music be any good? Well, what a trip this movie is. The songs come alive, and the plot is sequenced so you can really see what each of the songs is about.

The overarching theme is how to respond in a world filled with injustice. In the 60s, there was a perfect storm of the Vietnam War abroad and Civil Rights unrest at home. All mediated by technology — TV brought war and rioting right into peoples’ livingrooms. There was no way to pretend it wasn’t happening, and suddenly people were faced with making a moral decision. Ignore it? Fight against it? And if you choose to fight, do you protest peacefully, or take up arms?

It’s interesting, because in the movie, during the song “Revolution” (which takes place in an SDS-like office), they sing:

We all want to change the world
But when you talk about destruction
Don’t you know that you can count me out

but they decided to leave out what’s always been the most interesting part of the song for me — where Lennon sings: “Don’t you know that you can count me out… in… out,” as if wrestling with his choice.

Against this backdrop of social turmoil is the story of a handful of friends, each trying to fashion a personal moral center. The songs are used to explore the question that people faced in the 60s (and today): will you choose to be creative or destructive?

Will you choose violence (political or personal)? Will you choose to tune out with substances (there’s a whole segment devoted to the Merry Pranksters and their electric kool-aid acid test)? Will you choose to make art (and is that an adequate response)? Will you take refuge in spirituality?

Actually, the spiritual side of the Beatles wasn’t called out too much. Just one shot of Hare Krishnas dancing through a subway car. Perhaps the spiritual stuff seemed too out there (unlike chemically induced states of alternate reality! LOL!).

I’ve always loved the song “Across the Universe,” with its recurring line of “jai guru deva om.” Ah well, perhaps it isn’t quite time for a spiritual musical.

Wonderfully, the movie winds up with “All You Need Is Love.” Which is a great song, and the moral of the story — no matter how you ultimately get there.

Okay. Writing it out like that flattens out the affect of the experience. I was all weepy through many parts of the movie, and at the end, it’s totally uplifting.

Here: read Roger Ebert’s review. He’s better at this than I.

I’m just happy this movie is available for young people like My Gift to see. She’s seen documentaries and read about the 60s in school, but this movie makes you feel the 60s.

***

This time next week, I’ll be flying to DC for a few meetings at our Washington office. Did I break down and buy a proper winter coat? Indeed I did. At overstock.com. A $400 Michael Kors wool coat for $150. Go, me!

I’m trying to get my meeting schedule squared away so I can go practice with Tova (and Alfia, if she’s around) at their shala.

I think the Ashtanga community ought to reach out to our president-elect and bring him into the cult community. He looks like he’s cut out for an Ashtanga practice. As does his wife. C’mon, Tova and Alfia! You need to get going on this!

***

Current favorite (almost) raw breakfast:

Chopped fuji apple
Chopped medjool date
Chopped raw walnuts
Splash of soy milk
Cinnamon
Nutmeg (LOTS of it! Yum!)

You can use nut milk if you want to be 100% raw. I’m not highly motivated to make nut milk, and I also have a soymilk addiction that I enjoy cultivating.

The spider was right at the bedroom door — where the dog exits at night for her evening constitutional. She’s too old; a bite would pose a real threat. So the spider had to go. I waited ’til dark, then hunted her down with insecticide. Didn’t feel good to kill her, but I couldn’t very well ask The Cop to relocate her. He’s great about taking crickets and lizards outside, but I think he’d draw the line at moving a black widow to another part of the yard.

Today, death sentence for the tree in the front yard. A tall scraggly bottlebrush. Chopped down by a contractor so we can replace with a mesquite tree. Mesquites are gorgeous.

And my last picture is of dinner. All raw (I love raw “cooking” — perfect for slacker cooks like me!): pesto on zucchini strands (with a sprinkle of quinoa sprouts), and a salad of mushrooms, avocado and kalamata olives. Mmmmm.

“Happy to be back?” I asked.
“No.”

He’s a traveler — of the Paul Bowles Sheltering Sky variety.

Still, lovely to have him back. And to see the familiar faces of the other Ashtangis who waited inside. Lots of hugs all around.

106 today and we practiced without any air conditioning. Plus, it was noon; I’d had a light breakfast. Ideal conditions for a super open practice. And it was.

Primary and the first third of intermediate. I was psyched to get adjusted in kapotasana. As I went back and over, my upper back felt totally open and stretchy and gooooood, and my lower back felt open and released and… kind of really scary. I talked a little recently about the un-puffy feeling one gets when eating a raw diet. As if there is no padding between muscle and nerve and bone. That is absolutely what my lower back felt like — open and unpadded. And it opened right up on the right side, less on the left. I grabbed the balls of my feet comfortably.

I felt a little shaken afterward, as if I’d been a bit abandoned in my entry. It makes me a bit nervous, the unevenness of the opening, but I don’t think there’s much to be done about it, beyond persevering.

Chowder base
3 ears sweet corn
3/4 cup walnuts
3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 clove garlic
1 tsp sea salt
2 cups water

Chowder toppings
1 cup corn kernels (set aside from above)
1 avocado, diced
1/3 bunch cilantro leaves
1 tsp cracked black pepper

1. Set aside 1 cup of corn kernels to use as chowder topping.
2. Blend remaining chowder base ingredients until smooth.
3. Top with corn kernels, avocado, cilantro and pepper.

From Ani’s Raw Food Kitchen

Without the inflammation, without the puffiness, everything feels exposed: muscles, bones, and perhaps most especially (and potentially disorientingly) nerves.

***

Candice the massage therapist could kill a man with her heavy, pointy thumbs. If she can figure out how to deploy them, she could win MMA titles.

This is what I was thinking at noontime, as she discovered and methodically dismantled the scar tissue in my left shoulder — souvenir of an unexpected fall while climbing (and no, I didn’t hit the ground or anything — I just caught my whole falling body weight with an outstretched left hand).

As she was bidding me goodbye, she patted my left shoulder gently. “You’ve got something going on there…” Uh, yeah, I know. I was there, trying to breathe through the pain of your relentless thumbs!

This afternoon, as The Cop and I drove over to a local nursery to check out some mesquite trees for the yard, I told him about my massage. The blinding pain of Candice’s ministrations.

“I’d punch her in the head,” he said.
I looked over, disapprovingly.
“It’d be involuntary.”

Note to self: Do not get massage gift certificates for The Cop.

The only catch, really, is that the gym is loud and busy. Not crowded-busy, but energy-busy and visually-busy. No doubt that was part of the design of the space, and the energy that people bring to the space also contributes.

***

Raw food diet goes along nicely. I have always been a slacker cook, so trust me, I’m not making all kinds of fancy raw meals. Salads, fruit, smoothies — those’ll do just fine. I did roll some avocado, carrots and cucumber in sheets of nori for “sushi.” That seemed kind of purposeful and civilized.

Current project involves sprouting quinoa. It’s a delicate job, since the grains are so small, and I live in the desert (where everything dries up at a frightening rate).

And here’s a question: I’ve been tracking my intake using the CRON-o-meter. A very handy tool. What I’m seeing, though, is that if I eat a big serving of kale, I am off the charts on vitamin A. Seriously off the charts. Is this something to even be concerned about?

As far as effects of the diet: I was surprised to have detox effects, because my diet wasn’t bad to begin with, but there you have it. A really bad headache a couple of days in, and then a few days of intermittent headaches. They’re gone now, though.

On the up side, it is amazing how different my body feels. I don’t quite know how to describe it, except to say that there is a dramatic reduction of inflammation in my system. How this “feels” goes like this: when I wake in the morning, there are no… well, no stiff or “lost” areas. Hmmmm. This is hard to explain. Usually there are spots that feel “fuzzy” or “puffy” — kind of like they’re giving off a physical static — I’m thinking of my knees, my finger joints, and often my shoulders. I actually don’t know that I would have noticed that the fuzziness/inflammation was there, truth be told. I only know now because I’ve noticed it missing. The other spot is the abdominal cavity. You know how some days the abdominal cavity feels clear and responsive and raring to go during practice? And other days it’s kind of puffy and sluggish? Yeah, it’s straight to clear and responsive each day. Likewise my mind.

***

Books: The Granularity of Growth and Kundalini: The Evolutionary Energy in Man.

Diametrically opposed? I think not.

But maybe that’s the raw food and yoga practice talking.

Not sure what “worked,” but this morning’s practice rocked. All of a sudden I heard myself wonder, “Is driste a metaphor?” and “Is it an end? A means? Both?”

Super duper pratyahara, everything just motion and breath. Every breath perfectly absolute&relative.

Last week was the massage therapist who smelled of fried eggs, chewed orange hard candy while she worked, and who was rather rotund. Honestly, I found it a little disturbing that her boobs kinda rested on the back of my head when she stood at the head of the table and massaged my back. I realize other people might consider that a plus.

Today I saw Candice. Right from the get-go, the whole thing felt promising. She looked at me and said it’d be good to release my upper pecs and do some work on my rhomboids. Yes! Yes, exactly!

But first, Candice zeroed in on the tensions in my neck: ongoing tight spot in the right trap? Check. The place where the neck meets the bottom of the skull? Yup. Dig fingers in under there, as if pulling my skull off? Yes!

Lovely.

Fold my arm up behind my back like a chicken wing and dig in under the shoulderblade? Indeed. Oh, and the upper pecs/collarbone work? I thought I was going to dissolve or hallucinate. The pain was actually rather intense, but in a good way. I realize there is NO way to explain that; either you get it or you don’t.

At the end of the hour, I felt completely limp. Yay! I’ve been really hyped up and tense lately, and struggling to let go of it. Finally, finally, some peace of mind.

***

Contributing to the peace of mind was this morning’s practice. On a whim, I put on some chants that Volleyball Guy used to play — it seems like YEARS ago. And, amusingly, it seems very dreamlike: my memories of Mysore practice at his house are very fuzzy — no doubt because of the time of day and the sheer repetitiveness.

As soon as I heard the chants, I was thrown into a huge wave of nostalgia and the strongest feelings of devotion. Oh, I can keep my practice rolling along quite merrily on my own, but there is an aspect of the devotional that only Volleyball Guy can bring.

Don’t know if it was the chanting, or the swell of devotional feelings, but the whole practice felt really strong and light and fulfilling. Which, of course, only serves to contrast with how practices have been lately: consumed by thoughts of work and daily life. Gah! Must put that stuff down! At least for the time it takes to practice.

Seriously.

I also have to quote Susananda, who wrote something really helpful on her blog today:

I think that’s the name of the game in Intermediate, not how well you can do each asana, but can you stick with the program and get through without stopping a lot, gasping for breath, hyperventilating, palpitations, desperation, fear of death… a steady flow, balance of energy and calm. Nerve cleansing… yeah.

I mean, I think I knew this — but it helps immensely to hear it from someone who is working third series and who has some perspective from the “other side” of second.

And, of course, the fact that it’s funny is also a plus.

Just as an aside, during the chest muscle Rolfing pressure-from-hell work of Candice this morning, it occurred to me that the emotion I keep in my upper front body muscles is largely about mortality. Death and oblivion. Alrighty, then. Digging into the poses of intermediate can only be fun.

***

The raw food experiment goes along nicely. I downloaded the CRON-o-Meter, just to check out the nutritional situation as I go along. I’m kinda wondering about the deal with fat, what with the heavy reliance on nuts for protein.

Yes, I’ve been having some raw hemp protein powder (Vanilla Chai flavor! Cinnamony! Sweet! Gritty!). This is an interesting puzzle to solve. Back in the day, I solved the protein question with “and a huge slab of meat,” and more recently with “and soyburgers washed down with soymilk.”

Anyone want to comment on current thoughts re: macronutrient ratios?