Okay, for those of you who live in Boston and are having a boring summer, there’s always the 2 weeks of unlimited yoga for $25 which is being offered by a number of studios. I did Iyengar at Down Under Yoga…and I did about 16 classes for that $25. As I think I’ve mentioned, halfway isn’t quite my style.
Am I promoting this studio? Well, I love it, so please don’t come so I can have it all to myself. Yesterday I did a handstand, twice, (with help). I have also done a headstand. So, if I’m being all Buddha, I must practice dana (generosity) by mentioning that this studio ROCKS. And Iyengar yoga actually helps my chronic back pain because according to my kharma I was in 4 car accidents between June of 2000 and April of 2003. One of them was absolutely my fault, 2 were absolutely not, and 1 who knows. If you care about blame. Which I must, because I absolutely have to make the point that I’m not that bad a driver.
What other point am I making here?
I think I was winding my way around to announcing after March, April, May, June I have finally done what I usually do all the time: I read a novel. Of course, the novel’s title is SITTING PRACTICE and the obese caterer whose wife gets paralyzed turns to Buddhism and vipassana meditation for help but she still cheats on him because he’s kind of crazy.
Ask me how I found this book. It fell off the library shelf into my hands. Well, practically.
Anyhow, it was weird to read a novel. After all this non-fiction about non-self and the 4 Noble Truths and suffering and meditation and the yoga sutra, it was like, imagination? Someone else’s? Living inside the sensory concentration of meditation and the physical concentration of yoga creates an altered state of consciousness that remains in between practices. They call it mindfulness. For example, I was driving down the street and there was a Deere construction monster in front of me and another one twenty feet down the street, and the cop wasn’t paying all that much attention to who should be able to drive forward so I had to wait A WHILE and I had this thought, that I’d had a million times before, which was: “Just my luck. Of course there’s construction when I’m late for yoga. My life is misery.”
I was like, OMG, I feel persecuted by construction.
And I decided that I was insane. Or at least as insane as everyone else. Or at least no more enlightened in spite of the last 4 months. I was like, so meditating makes me aware that I feel persecuted by construction? Thank you, meditation. Of course, going back a few blogs, you will also find that I feel persecuted by refrigerator changes and chairs moving, which I also learned from guess what? Meditation.
Does anyone really want to know this stuff about themselves?
So, I read a novel. About a guy who gets into meditation. Because he feels persecuted by his emotions, particularly his aversion to his paralyzed wife’s atrophying legs. Can I tell you how much I love that he feels persecuted by this? I LOVE when anyone anywhere really opens the door to the dark side and says, here, look. OF COURSE, he feels persecuted by those feelings (and by the fact that he can’t have sex with her because of them). He wants to think he’s a really loving guy. He wants to think he’s not superficial. Only, he finds out he’s everything. Meaning, dark and light. Loving and superficial. His intention drives him forward into becoming better, but he feels all kinds of unacceptable things.
Like being persecuted by construction. I should mention that I own stock in Deere, so the irony just goes on and on.
I would like to state, for the record, that I feel unacceptable things. For example, I may be the only person in Boston who didn’t love the Chihuly exhibit at the MFA. I found it so aggressively phallic that it disturbed me and had me thinking a Republican thought about the NEA, which is so beyond out of character I wondered if I had been possessed. I was like, doesn’t this guy have any other fascination?
I also have an unacceptable feeling about the huge cardboard box that arrived through UPS the other day. I really, really, really want to crawl inside and let it roll down the hill near my house like I did when I was a kid.
I am now going to go do handstand preparation in order not to indulge that unacceptable feeling. Because I don’t think my chronic back pain is up to a roll down a hill in a box. Hmmm. Maybe one of you would like to do it for me so I can live vicariously?
Insanity, everywhere you look.