Observation of the Mind Getting Super Pissed... and then Laughing it Off

Last week my man-friend and I went to see the "Slutcracker" at the Somerville Theater. That's right, a burlesque take on good ol' Tchaik's "Nutcracker." I heard it was good, so I went ahead and bought a pair of tickets.

We arrived at the theater and the place was completely packed. We found a couple of empty seats up on the balcony and plopped ourselves down. In front of us was a walkway separating "our" portion of the balcony from the rows in front of us. This means nothing now, but later it will. Now, the purpose of this blog is not to give "Slutcracker" a bad review, but I must mention that I was an unhappy customer. Anyway, a few minutes before the show started, a woman sat down in front of me (across the walkway) who happened to have huge hair. I started to roll my eyes, telling myself, "Of course she sat right in front of me...right in my line of vision." The show started, and I realized there really was no way around this mass of fuzz. Man-friend and I switched seats and it was slightly better. But of course during this I start mentally comparing her hair to the un-felted wool I use when I needle-felt... wondering "Why can't she just pull it back, I mean doesn't she have ANY IDEA that her hair is a huge annoyance??"

Okay, so that was just the beginning. After I got over having this negative fantasy about dryer-filter-like hair, I started to pay more attention to the performance itself. Although it was difficult for the first 20 minutes due to the fact that many audience members arrived late and kept walking around the aisles asking "IS THIS SEAT TAKEN???" Anyway, the performance was...well, silly. The choreography was not very interesting, it wasn't "sexy" (as reviews said), and the dancing was okay at best. Going down my laundry list (while I'm at it), I may as well mention that the show was predictable, pretty boring, and not even sort of "shocking." What I did not quite understand at first was that the audience was loving it. They were hooting, hollering, and doing the whole bit. After all there were boobies of all sizes, pasties, dildos, and humping going on. Now, I'm no prude, but there really wasn't anything very interesting about these particular "raunchy" things happening on stage. Basically we felt totally out of place; we were definitely not a part of this "in" crowd that seemed to somehow manifest as its own separate part of the performance. Again, I'm not writing in order to review the show, but mentioning my dissatisfaction with everything is important.

Alright, so this whole thing was set up so perfectly for me -- a recipe of crap to allow my brain to feast on and chatter negatively about. During intermission, which we stayed seated for, man-friend and I shared our thoughts about how stupid everything was, how the audience was so ridiculous.... and how two men seemed to strategically place themselves right in front of our faces, giving us a grand view of the derrieres. That's right, middle-aged-man-ass right at face level. Total cake-topper.

Of course the mental chattering stew of negative experiences continued as I asked myself, "Why do they have to be so ignorant of their respective places in space? I mean, can't they be more mindful about where they put their butts? WTF? What is WRONG with people? This whole production, the audience, the big fluffy mass of hair..."

And then I caught myself. I noticed that my breath had become short and restrained. My neck was tense. All of these things occurred simply because I had been attaching myself to the plethora of my negative thoughts. And for what reason? Well, none. I took a deep breath, looked around at all of the smiling faces, which were stilled partially blocked by two pairs of butt-cheeks, and I reminded myself that these people were having a good time. Even though I did not agree with them or like their behavior, they meant no harm. And it was not very skillful of me to let my thoughts get the best of me.

So at this point of realization, I was able to laugh at myself and the whole experience. The ass cheeks became sort of funny. The fuzz-ball-head-lady became just a goofy lady with big hair. The performance continued to suck. OK, big deal!

We left before the end of the show (we gave up on it... and trying to navigate through a post-performance crowd didn't seem like it would be particularly enjoyable) and made our way to Orleans for a much-needed glass of wine. After our drink we attempted to exit the restaurant but were blocked by a couple of gentlemen. And who were they? Why, the same two ass-men who had just graced us with their booty-licious presence at the theater. Of course! What a perfect ending to our evening...

A Thanksgiving Unlike the Rest

This Thanksgiving was quite different than nearly all versions of the holiday that I have celebrated over the years. And I am so thankful for this change.

Firstly, a teensy bit of background info. My man-friend, who I have been with for just over three years (and living with for one year) and I have never been on a vacation. So we thought it would be a good idea to take a lil' mini vacation for T-day. I did a little investigation of some cutesy New England towns and Burlington, Vermont was recommended by more than one friend. So I booked a room for two nights, did pretty much no research on any sort of touristy destinations (although I did know about Church St), and that was that.

Thursday started off with a very slippery, sweaty, and probably unsanitary yoga session at Baptiste (I go there only a few times a year... when my gym is closed...heh...). Then I went home, cleaned up, packed, and we took off. Two episodes of "This American Life," some not-so-interesting local radio shows, Ani DiFranco, and a gorgeous drive later, we arrived at our cheap hotel. This was going to be awesome.

We took a nap, and by the time we woke up it was time to find dinner. We had no idea if anything was even going to be open. So while most families in America were either consuming thousands of calories or napping it off, we were starting to get grumbly tummies. First we went to Church St, walked up and down the four-block stretch, and found nothing. Well, Old Navy was open and I asked them if they knew of any place that was open. The cashier said, "Well, I'm not sure, but if you drive down the road a bit you'll see an Outback Steakhouse. There are other restaurants too..." Yeah right, Outback. So man-friend and I headed back to the car, went driving in the direction of Outback where "other restaurants were too," and weren't finding much. We thought of getting a bottle of wine and maybe stopping at some Chinese place for take-out (there was one open place, but we're not exactly fans of greazzzy Chinese food). Well, finally we stumbled upon Trader Duke's, which is the restaurant that's attached to the Double Tree Hotel in South Burlington. This was mostly likely a better option than oily string beans and wine.

So we go inside, and the place is packed. Probably 50 families chomping down on their Thanksgiving meals surrounded by three large television screens in the bar area playing "King of the Hill," local news, and sports. Trader Duke's had been taking reservations all week and of course we did not have one, but they were able to squeeze us in. It was 6 o'clock and the host said, "if you could finish by 7 that would be great so we can fit in all of our 7 o'clock reservations." Sure, whatever. We'll be out of there for sure. We go from not being able to find squat in town to being rushed through a meal. Go figure.

The vibe of the place was interesting. Yellow-ish lighting, wood panelling, maroon carpet with "wild" patterns, gold light fixtures, and floral "art." Also I don't believe there were any non-caucasian customers. Make what you want of that one. Anyway, the menus were all set for the evening, so being a vegetarian I had one option: vegetarian lasagna. It came with stuffing, sweet potatoes, roasted veggies, rice-or-mashed potatoes-or-baked potato, and a bread roll. And apple-or-pumpkin-or-pecan pie for dessert. I don't think they squeezed enough carbs into this meal. Well, I ordered this meal sans lasagna, asked for extra veggies, chose the rice, and took the dessert to go (which I knew I was not going to eat, but luckily my sweet-toothed-man-friend did). And yes we did, indeed, order a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. Also our waitress was just an added quirk to the whole experience; basically she was a huge spaz and demonstrated a variety of quasi-accents: Southern-esque, British-esque, New York-esque, and possibly more. Quite entertaining.

Anyway, the meal was actually really enjoyable. Not the food so much, unfortunately, but sitting down with my best friend and loved one is really what mattered most. We laughed at the whole deal, about how we "had to get out by 7," our lack of real plans for the weekend, how "King of the Hill" kept drawing our eyeballs to the screen (we don't own a TV), and how it was most unlike any other Thanksgiving we had ever had.

Kindness, Acceptance, and Things Like That

Several weeks ago I was at Shaw's grocery store in Porter Square. After I had fetched my groceries I went to the checkout line and there was one woman ahead of me. She seemed to be in some sort of terrible mood as she almost violently pulled out her wallet to pay. The cashier was a very smily older Asian woman, who continued to smile at this scowling customer.

Pointing to the receipt, the kindly cashier said, "If you call this number on your receipt you will be entered to win a cash prize."
"I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT, I DON'T USE A COMPUTER!" replied the woman.
"Oh, you don't need a computer, you just have to --"
"NO!" And she snatched the receipt, grabbed her groceries, and stormed off. The woman who bagged her groceries most definitely threw her a disapproving look.

So it was my turn to pay, and I said to the cashier, "Well, that wasn't very nice." She just smiled and said, "I guess she's having a bad day!" I couldn't help but giggle...I thought, "Wow, what a grounded person. Most people would be pretty pissed if someone else projected all that unnecessary crap onto them for no reason."

It's so easy to have negative feelings towards others when they act unskillfully (to use Buddhist terminology). But if you try and look at it from their point of view, it's easier to have compassion for them. My initial instinct was to start cursing silently at this rude customer..."What the hell is your problem? The cashier is only doing her job and she's being totally nice and you start yelling at her..." etc etc etc. But it's so important to look beyond these actions and realize that there is a human being with a heart underneath the sheath of negativity. Perhaps she was having a bad day. Perhaps she was having a REALLY bad day and a loved one passed away. Who knows. I most certainly will never know. But assuming that this woman is inherently mean doesn't help me feel compassionate towards her. So even if there was not one remotely redeeming quality about this person, the only thing left I could do is just hope that she doesn't continue to suffer.

By the way I'm currently reading Joseph Goldstein's INSIGHT MEDITATION. It's amazing.

Books can factor into my gym-scene (finally)

I have made a lovely discovery this month: I actually CAN READ A BOOK while using the arc-trainer and/or elliptical machine at the gym. For a long time I avoided doing this because I tried it once and got stupidly dizzy. I had put the magazine (?) on the useless rack in front of me, so every time I took a step my head would move about six inches while my eyeballs struggled to focus on tiny print. Completely futile. So I gave up, plugged my head-phones into the jack, and mindlessly turned my gaze to the big screens in front of me to take in those oh-so-captivating pixels.

A few weeks ago I tried again. I was right in the middle of an amazing book (Jhumpa Lahiri's NAMESAKE) and I couldn't put it down. So I brought it with me to the gym. This time I held the book very close to my face (well, a normal distance) and didn't use my arms at all to support myself on the machines. And I later discovered that HA, I can read AND work my core muscles more than I usually do. This did mean that I sweat much more than usual and so my sweat kept dripping down into my glasses, which didn't make things all that much easier.... but hey. I can certainly deal with that.

OK, I know that wasn't a terribly interesting little story, but I'm still pretty pleased about the whole situation. This means that I have read...almost six books in the last month! Me happy. All three of Jhumpa Lahiri's books (UNACCUSTOMED EARTH, INTERPRETER OF MALADIES, THE NAMESAKE), Khaled Hosseini's A THOUSAND SPLENDID SUNS, a short book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (crap, I'm forgetting the name...A DEATH FORETOLD...?), and I'm almost done with LOLITA. Oh yeah, and Camus' STRANGER.

I also discovered the Somerville Public Library. Well, I had always known of its existence but for some reason I never ventured inside. Until...well, a little over a month ago.

'tis been a good month.

New Flowers and Ana Forrest

Ok, so flowers and Ana Forrest are not necessarily related, but I wanted to discuss both topics in one entry. So there ya go.

Alright, so for years I have been wearing flower barrettes in my hair. Many people have commented on them... "those are so cute! Where did you get them?" I have made most of them... so I finally decided to make a big ol' batch and now they are finally for sale on my etsy page.

OK, Ana Forrest. She is an incredible yogini, teacher trainer, and generally amazing woman. She's doing a teacher training in Boston at the moment, which I am not a part of, but I am attending 8 of her morning intensives at Back Bay Yoga. They start at 7AM and last two hours, and they are most definitely intense. She is all about power, healing, and strength... so having that be at the forefront of my brain for two hours is almost a bit emotionally exhausting. Oh yes and she happens to be the arm-balance queen.

I must admit that I was first a bit frightened to take her workshops. I have heard that she can be a bit on the hard-ass side, but I realize that she does it out of love. Ana has a great sense of humor, she does make little mistakes, she is human, and she is a powerhouse of incredible energy. Here's an amazing yoga demo of her at a Yoga Journal conference.

I have six more intensives to attend and I am highly looking forward to the rest of them...

Rachel is, indeed, a yoga teacher.

So I don't think I have mentioned yoga once in this entire blog. Oops.

Last April I started a teacher-training program, Yoga of Energy Flow Training (200-hours) with Daniel Orlansky, Aaron Cantor, and Carrie Tyler. I had been studying yoga with Aaron at Yoga in the Square (Davis Square, Somerville) since August 2007, and he told me about this training he was doing. Without giving it much thought I enrolled and fell in love with it immediately.

OK, that was a while ago. In October I got a gig teaching yoga to the men's basketball team at Brandeis University. Mind you, I had only taught yoga privately with a friend one-on-one; never a whole class. Especially a bunch of dudes! So here I am at 7AM on a Monday morning with a room full of very tall and athletic men... and I totally kicked their butts. It was way fun. Since then I got another gig teaching Brandeis women's volleyball team, men's/women's tennis, and I also do a weekly yoga class with the staff of the Athletic Department at Brandeis. In addition to the Brandeis stuff I have also subbed at Yoga in the Square... I hope to get my own class soon. OH YES and I also just finished a mini 12-hour training with Alice Senko. It's a "hot hatha" training which is basically the Bikram series minus the bull shit. I did the training so that I can teach/sub for those classes at Yoga in the Square. It's a very different style of yoga than I am used to doing, but I still like it a lot. It's done in a heated room... series of 26 postures.... twice on each side...good stuff.

Anyway no deep thoughts or musings in this post... not that there ever are... but I thought I'd share...

OH yes and I updated my website, finally, with a little bit of yoga info.

Needle-Felting....

OK, so I have ventured into the world of needle-felting. I bought this lovely book called LITTLE FELTED ANIMALS by Marie-Noelle Horvath, purchased some roving wool and barbed needles on eBay, and then had a go at this stuff. I gotta say it's one of the most wonderfully bizarre feeling in the world to needle-felt. Basically you create little shaped dread-locks with wool (except they don't smell bad and are soft). How cool is that?

Here's how it works. You get a piece of sturdy foam (the thicker the better). You take some roving wool. Put it on the foam. Take your fancy barbed needle and jam it into the wool. Do it a lot and listen for the lovely crunching noise it makes. "TSH-TSH-TSH-TSH-TSH-TSH." Yes, just like that. After you've poked and prodded for several seconds, turn the forming-dread over. More poking. Repeat. Pretty soon you have a cute little mound of whatever. Add wool to it, do cool stuff, get creative.

Yeah.

So the needle-felted octopus that is shown in the picture above is quite a guy. And he just sold! I've only had him a couple of weeks, but he's been a fun center-piece in my funky apartment. Now he's off to New York! Actually the strange thing is that a classmate from THIRD GRADE (thank you Facebook) purchased it. Go figure!

Alright, I'll try to post more often. I promise. Wait, no I don't. OK. But stay tuned. Ish.