The popular phrase, "as the crow flies" denotes taking a straight course.
Although crows are fascinating and very smart, I'm partial to eagles in today's post...
I was once blessed with witnessing the way an eagle flies straight into a storm. Yes, INTO a storm. Steady, gracefully, purposefully.
Standing in the parking lot of the Veteran's Memorial outside Taos, New Mexico, the sky was darkening, the wind was strong, a storm was brewing at the top of the mountain. A blue jay could barely fly WITH the wind and a poor sparrow looked to be flung into the ground for trying its wing against the gusts.
Then, a Golden showed them how it was done. Giving me a sideways glance as she flew overhead without a flap, not even her feathers flinched as she soared with purpose directly into the darkest center of the storm.
Wow.
I want to do that. I want to show them how it's done. I want to fly straight into each storm of this Samara, this life of struggles, with grace and unflinching purpose - as the eagle flies.
In the meantime, I'm a sparrow with bruises.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
The Yoga Perv
A clairvoyant once told me that sometimes when a 'god' or 'goddess' is amongst 'ordinary' folks, sometimes those 'ordinary' folks don't know how to behave properly in the presence of a god/goddess and they may pay homage or tribute in a way that is perceived as inappropriate.
That's a very enlightened way of contextualizing a flasher.
I was in a partner yoga class with a stranger as my partner. During a face to face cross legged position, I noticed that his boner was seeping semen through his lycra shorts.
No joke. No mistaking the occurrence.
My body gave me an immediate signal to exit stage left with an intense leg cramp. Note to self: pamper this temple in gratitude.
Apparently, someone reported it after class because they had seen it and was concerned for me. How kind of her. Validation.
I too reported it, but later, after a walk in the park and a freak out session in the privacy of my own home.
Why did I not want to embarrass the hell out of the perv during class? Would that not have been lady like? Did I really not want to disturb the rest of class? Would that have secured the wrath of a potentially violent perv? I played it safe or smart? Somehow, I doubt that a yoga block to the face would have left much of an impression on him.
Nevertheless, I don't regret my classy composure in contrast to his "relax, it's tantric, it's supposed to be pleasurable" response to the unmistakable "ew!" in my expression.
How was I supposed to react? Like a good girl - get upset but not too upset? Like a good victim - feel ashamed, ask 'why me?' and get angry as hell? Like a good Buddhist - oh, it's my karma, oh well?
How about all of the above because all of the above are all me and all are valid, equally. Call it equanimity of emotional response. Just like he is perv, a sad misled soul, a loser, a tantric practitioner, a future Buddha, my mother/enemy/lover in a past and future life. He is all of those things and I can feel all of those things. It is my potential to experience all possibilities, so I feel all possibilities.
It's my party, I can cry if I want to.
As I stood in the park contemplating the rush of emotions after what had just happened, I looked up and saw three great egrets spiraling up a wind draft to gain altitude. It was windy and it didn't look easy.
Pause... Thank you, universe, for the much needed inspiration.
What do I feel when he's banned from the yoga studio? Justified, defiant, guilty, empathy, fear for the next unsuspecting yoga student...
In spite of all of the possibilities, I wish him to be truly well and happy because if he's truly well and happy he's not jacking off in front of people anymore.
That's a very enlightened way of contextualizing a flasher.
I was in a partner yoga class with a stranger as my partner. During a face to face cross legged position, I noticed that his boner was seeping semen through his lycra shorts.
No joke. No mistaking the occurrence.
My body gave me an immediate signal to exit stage left with an intense leg cramp. Note to self: pamper this temple in gratitude.
Apparently, someone reported it after class because they had seen it and was concerned for me. How kind of her. Validation.
I too reported it, but later, after a walk in the park and a freak out session in the privacy of my own home.
Why did I not want to embarrass the hell out of the perv during class? Would that not have been lady like? Did I really not want to disturb the rest of class? Would that have secured the wrath of a potentially violent perv? I played it safe or smart? Somehow, I doubt that a yoga block to the face would have left much of an impression on him.
Nevertheless, I don't regret my classy composure in contrast to his "relax, it's tantric, it's supposed to be pleasurable" response to the unmistakable "ew!" in my expression.
How was I supposed to react? Like a good girl - get upset but not too upset? Like a good victim - feel ashamed, ask 'why me?' and get angry as hell? Like a good Buddhist - oh, it's my karma, oh well?
How about all of the above because all of the above are all me and all are valid, equally. Call it equanimity of emotional response. Just like he is perv, a sad misled soul, a loser, a tantric practitioner, a future Buddha, my mother/enemy/lover in a past and future life. He is all of those things and I can feel all of those things. It is my potential to experience all possibilities, so I feel all possibilities.
It's my party, I can cry if I want to.
As I stood in the park contemplating the rush of emotions after what had just happened, I looked up and saw three great egrets spiraling up a wind draft to gain altitude. It was windy and it didn't look easy.
Pause... Thank you, universe, for the much needed inspiration.
What do I feel when he's banned from the yoga studio? Justified, defiant, guilty, empathy, fear for the next unsuspecting yoga student...
In spite of all of the possibilities, I wish him to be truly well and happy because if he's truly well and happy he's not jacking off in front of people anymore.
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