Slow Flow

Jolly how discussion brings awareness to core beliefs I didn't even know I held.

Did you know I'm all slow flow? Gentle transition, a downright centrist perhaps.

A recent conversation turned to agriculture, recent government legislature to its annoyance, and the format for moving forward.

"I really think," he said, "that everyone should buy a big supply of rice and beans, and lots of vitamin C, and not go to work for twenty days. That would shut the whole system down."

I shuddered. "I don't. Then you would have a turmoil and chaos, and a bunch of people trying to make gigantic, collaborative decisions, running on rice and beans."

Think about what would happen: hospitals shut down, everyone home with their kids (and their fears) all day, funeral homes closed, medical needs ignored, the elderly abandoned, anyone who defies this proposal wouldn't be able to get gas for their cars, prisoners forgotten,

And a whole lot of nothing dramatic. A whole lot of not too much may happen (for example, fewer car crashes and construction accidents). It may be a rad trip, too, an artistic dedication akin to a 20-day renaissance. But the gamble towards chaos runs high.

So it may be both fun and tragic, but here's the thing:

What happens after 20 days? There's no alternative structure to move into, at least not one that can support a whole population. After 20 days, you'll have a scramble for power as rice and bean people* try to figure out a way to move forward.

And in almost.every.single.time where chaos has come across a civilization, there is a predictable pattern of outcome: a tighter grab on power. Usually a military- or militia based governance. A violent shift to order. A cruel farce against the principles that started a movement.

I respect pattern. Only by observing a pattern can you begin to change the course, shift the next phase. And when playing with powerful patterns: act with care.

When I see such a clear and distinct pattern of events throughout human history; I choose not to go there. I choose to forge a different route. 

Particularly because revolution is a reactive action. It is an opposition to, and often principles for, yes, but mostly an "against" move. It is destruction. It is not growth.

Philosophically they are two sides to the same coin; in action they are not. 

I value growth, moves made in courageous faith of creation. I value small farmers that nourish their land, even in the threat of eviction. I value b-corps and sustainable energy companies, alternative healthcare practitioners that trade their services outside of insurance, every inventor and engineer out there, every psychologist and yogi discovering the pathways that make us brighter beings.

True revolutions in human history are not traced in blood. Transformation thrives off mastery, melioration and prosperity. Cultures that tempt with opulence, the simplicity of enough, the creation of opportunity and open society.

When our 'alternative' lifestyles start to look a lush green in comparison to fossil-fuel-consuming poverty, then you will see the shift.

But these paths are by glamorous world leaders and synchronized collective and mechanical action. There won't be the victory of warfare or the eulogy to the general.

These paths will be forged by small business and tillers of land, by every individual that pushes for their organization to take a different trek, by every individual dedicated to sustainability.

We do not need orchestrated action: we have the power of synchronicity. We have trust and faith in each other, and imperfection of the divine.

It is no longer a question of would I die for the cause, but rather a soft understanding I will die in the cause. I will die, someday, hopefully not soon, without infamy, while the world will still shift and change and hopefully into a more integrated format. I may not live to see solution, ecotopia or revolution. Maybe I will, or everyone won't, but this outcome matters not. I'll live each day in the creation of the sustainability and consciousness. By choice.


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*Actually, rice and beans and vitamin C is much more nutritious than many, many, many peoples current diets. If during these twenty days everyone went through a holistic program of juice cleanses, yoga and meditation, psychotherapy and counseling, and if they could just get gonged, too....

Just kidding.

Trust, Lunch and Ghandi

Im in a space where I'm doing a lot of trusting the universe to sustain me.

And its a little bit scary/beautiful/longing/gratitude/insecurity/faith/worry. And so forth.

Being a broke foodie and health nut is very mildly torturous.

There are these dreams, I have, see. But I really want some kale. And parsley. I wonder where I can get some kale. And mango. Thank goodness for these grapes. And chia. I really want some pizza. I don't even eat pizza. I'm probably just wanting a hearty meal. I want a real meal. And a green smoothie. From Rawvolution. Dude, when I get money, I am going to eat a slice of Spirulina pie- and cry.

I am a little bit ashamed of my thought process. I know people who are perfectly happy with one meal a day- people who can live off rice (I want some rice. I want some mango sticky rice and some forbidden rice... and some raw cauliflower rice...). I feel like many of these everyday thoughts are pretty self-centered and trite... and kind of lame. Whew, there, I said it. I think my preoccupation with keeping myself fed and nourished is kind of lame.

There's a wise core that recognizes this sort of thinking as pretty judgmental. Also, I am aware of how HUGE an effect nutrition has. I'm not saying its the only thing, but I will go so far as to say, for the normal person, nutrition and exercise will create the strongest positive shift in their life. What you eat actually forms your cells. And your body. And your mind- you know, that thing that interprets and structures your reality? And when you're undernourished, you suffer emotionally and mentally much more so than physically.

Well, I ask two lovely beings who have also gone so far as to trust the universe.

Ruby starts talking about Ghandi: "See, babe, he knew what he had to bring to the world. He knew what he was here to do- and because he was coming from that place, he shone so bright-"

"Yeah," I interrupt, "and I bet Ghandi never worried about lunch....or dinner".

"Yeah," agrees Ruby.

"And I do. So, I'm clearly not Ghandi. I wish there was something I could do to disconnect and not care so much about food".

Ruby pauses. "Honestly, I think if you did that you would just be a bum".

"Oh, I'm not now?"

"No. Because you're giving back, by bringing forth your truth. And as long as you are doing that, the universe will support you. Besides, babe- and this is important- your understanding of health and nutrition and fitness and stuff- that's your truth. And it's your message. When people see you, they are inspired and you spread the message of Eco-consciousness. And the gong flow is important-"

"-of course it is," I interrupt, "it can help war vets, and-"

"that's how I should hear you talking".

-----

Later in the day, I ask Gretta, who replies,

"Well, people like Ghandi, or Amma.... they are just on a whole other level. They are still in their physical bodies, but they are conscious on another level, I don't think they think about food."

"Yeah, but I do. And I think that holds me back".

"Sweetie, austerity was the theme of their time. And it was necessary then, but they've already done that work- so we don't have to now. Your generation has another mission. Shiva, Saul and Erich, they took yoga from what it was and brought it here now. You"ll have to take it to the next level- and I don't think austerity is the next level-"

And at that point, my attention shifted somewhere to:

Wow, samosas are delicious, I haven't had one in ages. And I love this chocolate superfood- oh my god, it gives me so much energy...

And so forth.

Apollo

I live in a world of my imagination.

I have always lived in a world of my imagination. I suspect that I will continue to do this whether I know it or not.

When I was a little kid, I drew out maps of entire worlds, Mililac, a land of beauty and prosperity, Krall, a dictatorship of cruelty and misery (as a Russian emigrant, I think I know where I sourced this narrative...), Tiger's Isle.

I had a one-on-one chat with compassionate author Edward Mannix today. In which, I connected and emphasized with my inner child. Really, I had to pretend that my 8 year old self was in front of me, and to talk to her. The rule was, when talking to children: you never deny their feelings. Even if you think its silly. Express empathy and understand.

For example: if a child says, "I think my brother doesn't love me".

Instead of responding "Your brother loves you" (e.g. denying their reality), say, "I'm sorry you feel like a loser".

(On a side note, I remember getting fed up one day in elementary school, and going to visit the guidance counselor. I told her, "I don't have any friends". 

-She says, "hold out your hands, and count off the names of your friends". 

-I lift up my fingers and go, "Jenny, Mike, Gerard, Kathy....". 
-She goes, "See, you do have friends. Now go along now". 
Guidance counselor fail.)

Anyway, while having a conversation with my 8 year old self, I realized, "Wow, when I was 8 years old, I felt totally out of place. I thought the school system was a competitive bore, I made it through middle school without any effort, and read books underneath my desk. I did not understand getting points deducted for not having my books covered. I lived in a land of imagination. I believed I could make things happen with my mind. I wanted love and approval from everyone, and I cared an awful lot."

And then I realized, "...and I'm still that person".

Sure I've gotten older and more mature and a master of intense emotion and deliberate reaction, but, the point remains, I'm still that kid. I could choose to deny, or repress, or ignore all of my imaginative elements: but regardless,  I entered the world as that being, and I am the continuity of that consciousness and being.  

So when I'm in savasanah, and having a truly marvelous conversation with Apollo....

That's my experience/perception/reality. That's how I be.

cleanse/fast/thing-y

I am so. so. so. glad that is over.

Just finished the master cleanse. Ten challenging days. Ten depths-of your soul, fear blazing inspirational instensy. Amusingly enough, it reminded me of the process of the koshas.

Pre-cleanse, days 1-3, the physical exhaustion and strain sets in, the physical longing for comfort, for food.

Days 3-5, energy shut down. Too tired to run or hit the beach, no intense vinyasa. I walk pretty much everywhere I go now. Normally a privilege, suddenly a horror and a burden.  Every detour, every missed bus, every extra half hour of walking turned tricky.

Amusingly enough, for the first time in my life, I could spend hours sitting, at a computer even. Can't say I got much done, but my concentration was truly impeccable. Now that orange-peach nectar is coursing through my body like wild, all I want to do is dance again ; )

Days 6, drunken monkey brain. mental bonanza. searching aimlessly for answers amongst things I already know, re-exploring closed option after after option. drunken, anxious monkey.

Days 7, emotional deprivation: crazy longing for emotional comfort. Hunger is everything. It really is. At that point of being so, so hungry, you start to feel so, so, terribly empty. And people feel like this. All over the world. No human was placed on this earth to feel this longing.

Days 8, tricky during the day but really fun at night. I was having a conversation at Yohei's with a few friends, and suddenly I realize that everything is teaching me something about myself, and my family, and where I'm from, and where everyone else is from, and the evolution of our society...
"Guys...." I say, hesitantly, "this may sound a bit odd, but I think I'm tripping."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, so if I don't sound super present.....it's cos I'm not".

Day 9, day 9 was so beautiful it deserves its own little pocket in my internet life, so I'll write about it afterways. Bliss body. Total wisdom.

Day 10, wow that was wild. proud of surviving that. can't wait to eat : )

Post-cleanse, Day 1: Up at 7AM. Suddenly, I have become a morning person. I've learned the power of orange juice : )

Dude, I am so jittery. Fruit feels so good.

That was a singularly strange experience in its platitude.

I am on East Coast until July 11th, visiting my more conservative jewish parents, who are actually doing a commendable job coming to terms with my more mystical existence.

It's near 1AM, and my mother and I are sitting on the embroidered and practical couch in the living room of this beautiful colonial house in mid-massachusetts, and we are watching Cruel Intentions. Here's the strange thing; there have been at least two other times where we've sat on this couch and watched Cruel Intentions.

Now, I do practice some repetition. Every morning, I wake up and go through a series of more or less similar postures and meditations (that I swear is different every day, but may appear reiterative to the outside glance). More meals than not, I'll throw some celery and spirulina in a blender. I repetitively dip my hand in the chocolate jar, or the honey jar, and I still have a nasty habit of checking my cell phone.

But I think I've named the majority of my habits. This winter, I lived in a house for 6 months- the longest I maintained a residence since 2009. Since 2009, I've 'lived' in 13 locations. These days, it's an odd coincidence if I wake up in the same place twice, and that place isn't around a campfire with CC White saying, "Darling, we are all scared your hair is going to light on fire!".

Watching this movie was so strange. At one point, I got up to go to the bathroom, and my own life seemed foreign to me. I could not believe that I was headed back to California to teach Gong Flow Yoga and travel the festival circuit. It's real enough when I've got a bunch of singing bowls around someone's head and I'm handing them some lavender, but when I'm in a suburban house in mid-massachusetts, to say my life seems odd is nothing.

Especially when I'm flash-backed to my 15 year old self, or my 18 year old self. Cruel Intention's images of New York in particular are striking... they must have made quite an impression on my mind to manifest to reality, because I've been there, in love, not on the upper east side but on the upper west, in a similar egoic reality.

My mother asked me if I wanted to go back to being 19 and going to NYU*, and....I can't say there was no truth to that- there's certainly the shadow of reminiscence, but honestly, no, not reality. The greatest excitement I felt in New York pales in comparison to the joy I am capable of feeling now. I think I took in only about 29% when I lived there (statistic falsified). I have no idea what percentage of experience I take in now, if there is such a thing (metaphor is technically flawed), but I can bet you its higher. I remember my first tastes of ecstasy in my heart center; now I feel it with my whole being. I feel much more alive, more awake, in a way more innocent than I did at 17.

For the most part ; )

I think, sitting there and watching this movie, I missed my current life more than I missed my New York one. The thing with New York, is that it will still be there, in some form. I have friends in New York that appear to struggle with the same conflict, inhabit the same worlds. Perhaps it so appears to my outside perspective, in fact, probably, but the change of my being happens now in lands unknown. And I am lucky enough to live in a world with continuance, to be near to or aware of the beloved brothers and sisters I shared New York with.

I feel more intensity of experience, novelty and growth with each passing year, and I have no urge to return to a previous time. I intend to continue that pattern. I have always looked forward to my life at 50 and if trend takes it course, I'm sure it will be pretty epic.

But sitting there, past midnight, watching the same movie: inexplicably odd.

*she is shocked I left cosmopolitan new york to live in 'provincial' Venice

I haven't written about a class I taught in over a year. Isn't that weird?

It's mostly because yoga classes are  about students and it's kind of weird to blog about them.

Occasionally I'll write out a sequence, but also it's like "yeah...yoga happened..."

As I write this, I'm watching a reiki practitioner heal a woman with some pretty active breathwork. It's powerful, and also funny.

Gong flow started as a seed on the beach in santa Monica- I ran up to him and yelled "gong me gong me".

"you can't just do that, Mona," says Brendon, incredulously.

I get in the gong chair: and I don't know what happened in there honestly. It's like the first time I did yoga: "oh...that was weird".

As I hear the rainstick, I fall back into my body. I sit up and Guy says, "you know, I've been looking for a yoga teacher...."

This is right around the second time in my life where I nearly surrendered teaching yoga. The classes I was teaching before just didn't gather momentum....

It's one of the ironies of an actor moving to NYC- a yoga teacher moving to Santa Monica has the joy of learning in a soul-and-wisdom saturated atmosphere. You get to learn and transform in the brilliant Mecca of mind-body consciousness.

But there's so much yoga all around, there didn't seem to be a need for more.

But the bowls and the gongs have such tremendous power, that they are crucial to share. Seriously, they are amazing. It's a yoga high like never experienced before, and the effects are long-lasting. I truly believe that each gong flow yoga class is a rebirth. I have never before encountered anything so nourishing. 


I hold a yoga class in honor of my birthday- it's the style I like, laid back, with an emphasis on writing and individual experience- introspective yoga ; ). 


Just kidding, it's all introspective. 


Anyway, Guy comes over and gongs the group. Kara, a friend of mine, began to sing in these aerie ethereal tones. It's strange to say what happens during a sound bath, especially if its your first or second time. You enter into a realm without language, and since language is pretty much all I'm used to describing things (I haven't yet ascended to music), it's pretty tricky. One gets up and says, "Wow. Something happened. I'm not sure what it is though". And as with all mystery, I seek to understand. 


Guy had a class with a teacher up in the valley; to which I came. I re-experienced my childhood. I walked through the rooms of our New Jersey upstairs appartment. I pretended I was sailor moon and danced around late at night. I sat up on the drawer eating a rasberry-cheesecake muffin. I could feel the texture in my mouth. I walked outside the cafeteria and into the playground. I felt the fuzz of textured dots in arts and crafts. I remembered my humiliation of letting Mike know that I liked him, and the pride of standing up on a bench and announcing the importance of staying calm.

Four to fourteen. In 14 minutes.

About a minute into the gong flow, the worries I had been ignoring came up. The thoughts floated in and out, the music threatened them. I listened to the bowls; I imagined what it would be like to think in music. It seemed to be a very simple good idea. Let's try it.

We asked to hold a gong and yoga class at Zoe's, to which she generously and beautifully agreed!


Our first class, which we taught at Zoe's Love Dome, had 5 people in it. 


The next one, had 15. And Zoe's is a very small space! We were mat to mat, and there was no question; something significant was happening. 


Afterwards, we had to take reservations and then it got tricky- we need a big space- we can't do this by donation. But we want to have it open, so we set a suggested donation- but that confuses people as well. Setting up extremely heavy musical instruments, asking sound healing musicians to work for 2 hours, then taking it all down is a lot of work. And we are openly trying to get by. This sounds like a bunch of mind marble, doesn't it? Sure feels like it. But it's a nice mind marble to have, because the real question is, 


How can we share this experience to the highest degree? 


Afterwards, came Lucidity Festival, where I began to comprehend the power of the gongs. And where I faced my internal demons of misogyny and vowed to become and self-actualize. 


Then, was Symbiosis, where Guy and I learned about each other through challenge, and I fell in love with the singing bowls. Symbiosis was my first encounter with the phrase "brutaful". Brutal, and beautiful. I always imagined that my most activated state would be a busy, talkative way of being. I'm a fairly busy, talkative person, and I suspected when I was being at my fullest, it was when I felt drained of energy, forcing myself to say the next word. I learned that my most activated state is often when I'm listening. Even as I type that I feel a twinge of insecurity- doesn't this run in the way of my feminism? Am I simply too weak to take an active role? Chill out, fears, this is an empowered move, I assure you. Much 2nd wave feminism took for granted that "strong and active" was clearly superior, and it's a way for all people to be. Not so, says the 3rd (and possibly 4th?) wave, "receptive and calm" are markers of a strength so powerful it was repressed and feared. Own it. Bring it back.


Then came LIB, where I learned patience? (maybe) And decided that festival culture and the meaning behind it was as pretty close to the purpose of life as I can imagine. Please pardon me, productivity, but celebrating our short time together on earth through artistic creation is critical. 


Since then, it's been a whirlwind of website creation (Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU Yohei), finding photography, seeking space, contacts and conflicts: all for the beautiful birth of transformative experience. 


Trust. 

Urban Home Gardens (part 2!)

Oh my gosh, it's all grown up! Check this out,

Top left hand corner, that's the arugula, with the lovely spring blossoms at the top.  It's about two and a half feet now, and it took me by surprise because I realized I didn't actually know what arugula looked like outside of a bunch at the market. I guess that's a step up from not knowing what arugula is at all, but is just one more showcase of my paltry agricultural skills. Or, rather, my fledgling agricultural skills.

I must say, once this garden was planted, it was quite the independent offspring. I watered it a few times, and Kimi planted an additional Shisho leaf, but for the most part; Matt planted it, it flourished. 

 Kimi chopped up in a salad the other day. To the right of the arugula are some fiesty bits of kale. Traveling downward one encounters the Shisho leaf, an absolutely magical edible her that is as ubiquitous in Japan as basil. It's that little leaf underneath your sushi. 

We also have a wide array of lettuces in the middle. From this adventure, I've discovered that lettuce is very hard to keep clean. I marvel at how relatively dirt free the stuff at the market is.  

See the thyme at the front? That thyme took so long to grow in. It thus became the butt of many jokes, "Stop taking your time, thyme!"

In the foodie world, there's always thyme for puns. 

Once again, a billion times thank you to Matt from Urban Home Gardens in Mar Vista. Thank you for making us such a beautiful garden, and being a pioneer for love, ecology and agriculture.