How to Be a Yogi Without Being a Chump

“I try. I try to be a righteous man. I try to give love all over the world. But I’m tired of being used!” – Charles Bradley: Ain’t It a Sin

Such passion that you know came from a hard-earned life.  The Screaming Eagle of Soul passed away just two years ago and way too early.  May he rest in peace.

He continues, “Sometimes this world can do me wrong. Keep to the path, won’t go astray.”  Even after life has beaten him down, industry thieves stole from him, as he tried to make his way as Charles Bradley and not some knock-off of James Brown, he’s still trying to be a righteous man!  Not easy sometimes, in this world.

As he performs this song, you can see the real anguish on his face.  The years of blood, sweat, tears, hard times, tragedy, and taking shit are all pouring out in the lyrics.  He’s trying hard to continue to walk a righteous path, but the frustration is coming to a head.

And then … “If you ain’t gonna do me right … I might just do you in. Ain’t it a sin.”

Yep; there it is.

In an interview with Mojo Magazine, Bradley said, “Everybody was thinking I was being very aggressive, but I was saying ‘don’t do me wrong, I won’t do you wrong. We all gotta make things right.”

Damn straight.

Most of us have an inherent goodness within us and we want to live a peaceful life, giving love and being loved.  But, then there are other humans that seem to go out of their way to make that shit almost impossible.

So, here’s the thing; throwing up an Anjali Mudra (prayer hands) gesture is bullshit, if it doesn’t come from the soul.  Namaste, bitch! Right?  We don’t need to do that.  Peace, forgiveness and seeing past a person’s transgressions is inner strength and understanding. Very yogi-like.  But there are times and people who don’t deserve that and neither does our soul.

There comes a point sometimes, where trying to be a righteous person and being a fool cross paths.  Part of nurturing our soul is keeping it from being a chump.  Our soul is our house.  Mi casa es su casa, but if you kick my door in, you will not be greeted peacefully.

Ain’t it a sin?

We cannot be righteous towards others, if we’re not righteous to ourselves.  Hang on; Mr. Bradley is still singing … “I try to find a certain style, to keep my soul from runnin’ wild.”

Seriously, go to Spotify, iTunes, wherever you get your music and get that song right now.

Namaste.  Sincerely.

The Case for Care in the Face of Sympathy

I come from a rough neighborhood; that’s no secret.  Where I grew up, people were gruff, rough, and tough.  In fact, here’s a typical greeting; and seriously, no bullshit, verbatim: “Joe!  How the hell are you, you fat fucking bastard?  Life treating you good or what?”

Realness.  You know this guy cares about Joe; asking him how he is with a not so subtle reminder that he should probably eat less pizza and start walking more.  And, to get on ancestry dot-com to find his father, because all bastards should know who their dad is.

Ah, I miss that.  No fake, pretentious, politically correct, empty, hoping I’m better than you are, kind of shit greeting: “Oh, hey Joe.  Good to see you.”  No it’s not.  Shit, I hope he doesn’t talk to me.  How long does it take to make a latte?  Come on!

Yep.  The atmosphere just got a bit shittier.

Down south, you could be on the side of the road in the rain, changing a flat tire and people will drive by and say, “Oh, bless his heart.”  Useless.  Meanwhile, in Philly, they’ll pull over and help you change that tire, cursing you the whole time, for getting them wet.

How about this from Anthony Jeselnik?  I think this really hits the nail on the head.  He says, “People see some horrible tragedy in the world and they run to the internet.  They run to their social media; facebook, twitter, whatever they got, and they all write down the exact same thing: ‘My thoughts and prayers …’.  Do you know what that’s worth?  Fucking nothing.  Your’e not giving your time, your money, or even your compassion.  All you’re doing is saying, “Don’t forget about me today.”

Funny, but there’s a good bit of truth to that.  I get it though.  When there’s nothing you can actually do, you want to offer some words of sympathy.  However, put some thought into it, instead of some canned bullshit words.

Now, at this point in my life, I’m about 50% removed from inner city Philly, so I’ve come to understand that most people are fragile, easily offended, and will gossip about you to anyone who will listen about how bad of person you are, because you use “Fuck” as a noun, adjective, verb, adverb, and pronoun and anywhere else it’ll fit.  Everyone has some kind of an accent.  Cursing and sarcasm is part of mine.  But, in many places, it scares the shit out of people, so I try to curb the accent a bit.  I fail, a lot.

But!  But, I cannot bring myself to say empty things, like “Prayers”.  Ugh!  No, I’ll say things like this: “I’ll mow your lawn, you can stay at my house, I’ll pick up your groceries, I’m on my way over with bourbon, I’ll walk your dog, take your trash out, change your tire, pick up your kids from practice, give you money, and sit with you at the hospital.”

The weird thing is … I often get silence or a blank stare as if people don’t recognize honest sincerity and care.  Remember Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality, when Stan (William Shatner) asks, “What is the one most important thing our society needs?”  And she responds with what is truly important to her, “That would be harsher punishment for parole violators, Stan.”  Crickets.  To break the awkward silence, she finally says, “And … world peace.”  To which, everyone cheers.

We’ve taken the care out of care and replaced it with, “Hugs”, “Prayers”, “world peace”, and “Bless your heart”.  Sympathy with no actual help.

It’s like, if I say “Bless his heart”, I’m excused from all guilt of not doing anything.  It’s like saying four hail Mary’s or something.  Not sure how that works, but I’ve heard things.

Sometimes we can’t help or simply don’t want to and we shouldn’t feel guilty about it.  It is what it is.  We’re not obligated to the universe in any way.  Sometimes we help and sometimes, we don’t feel like getting wet or putting our lives in danger or on hold to help someone.  It’s okay.  We’re human.  No worries.

But please, instead of “hugs”, say something real or nothing at all.  And please don’t hit the “like” button.  My fucking dog just died, dumbass.  He was an ugly, fat fucking bastard, but we loved him.

With all sincerity, Namaste.

Photo by Robert Bye on Unsplash

Some People Just Want the Address

In the 110th episode of Seinfeld, entitled “The Understudy”, J. Peterman is sitting in a restaurant with Elaine and asks, “That Shirt.  Where did you get it?

Elaine, not missing a beat, Oh, this innocent looking shirt has something which isn’t innocent at all. Touchability! Heavy, silky Italian cotton, with a fine almost terrycloth like feeling. Five button placket, relaxed fit, innocence and mayhem at once.”

Peterman responds, “That’s NOT bad!”

Sure, Mr. Peterman asked where she got the shirt, but why?  If Elaine just named a store, that would’ve been that.  But, she recognized and responded to his interest, not his question.  He hired her on the spot and it wasn’t even an interview.

Peterman’s character is based on an actual clothing company of the same name. The following is taken directly from the J. Peterman website about just one of the many articles of clothing they sell: “Thomas Jefferson disliked stuffy people, stuffy houses, stuffy societies. So he changed a few things. Law. Gardening. Government. Architecture.  Of the thousand castles, mansions, chateaux you can walk through today, only Monticello, only Jefferson’s own mansion, makes you feel so comfortable you want to live in it.  I think you will feel the same about his 18th-century shirt. Classic. Simple. Livable.”

It’s a damn shirt!  But, I want one.

We’re human and we respond to the “why”.  The what and how comes after our limbic system is lit up with interest.  Once that is fed, our neo cortex is ready to process intel.  It doesn’t quite work the other way around.

Imagine this instead: “That Shirt.  Where did you get it?”  “Dillards.  It was on sale.”

Interest destroyed.

How about this?  “You practice yoga?  Where?”

It’s not about the address.  Not yet.  It’s about what the place feels like, instinctively and intuitively:  “Want to hug it out with the universe?  This is the place. You instantly feel the energy of this ancient science and the comfort of acceptance.  Inner and outer strength, flexibility, peace, and wellbeing, harmonized with breath, focus, wisdom, and effort.  Yes; this is your journey.  The one you’ve been looking for.”     

Whatever the conversation, if someone shows passionate interest, don’t slam the door with rote information.  Take them on a journey.  Give them the story, the “why”, the soul.

But, then … some people just want the address.

Photo by DeMorris Byrd on Unsplash 

It’s Never Too Late to Restart

Even after I got my first black belt, I could not do a side split.  My friends and fellow martial artists could, but not this guy.  It was the 80’s and Jean Claude was doing all kinds of Van-Dammage.  He made it a thing.  Damn you, Jean Claude!

I tried all kinds of things, including a torture device created from the same technology that made William Wallace taller.  That is, until it broke him.  Freedom!  Still, I cranked the gears, while my groin shouted obscenities at me.

It didn’t work.

I tried PNF; or, proprioceptive muscular facilitation, which is just a complicated way to say torture.  I tried dynamic stretching and even went full Russian in my training program.  Thanks Pavel, but still no split.

Then, someone suggested yoga, to which I responded, “Pffshhhh.  Right.  What’s next; ballet?”

But then, Raquel Welch launched her “Total Beauty and Fitness” video on VHS.  The commercials showed her doing yoga, so I thought, “Hmm, Raquel Welch in a onesy, doing yoga like exercises in my living room?”  Now that put a bustle in my hedgerow!  I purchased the video and to be quite honest, Raquel or not, it wasn’t very good.  And after falling over several times, trying to do Warrior 3 like the Raq, that tape never saw the inside of a VCR again.

Years turned into decades, while I trained in Judo, Aikido, and Hapkido, but still no side split.  Actually, it lost its importance and I let it go.  But then, five years ago, I began training in yoga at a real school.  Hmm; no Raquel Welch.  Weird.  Anyways, I got to experience some really talented instructors and in witnessing they’re body maneuverability, the spark was reignited.

While greater flexibility in my muscles, improved joint mobility, and some increased strength came as byproducts of the doing of yoga, there’s no specific focus on side splits.  No … splitasana.  However, this improvement of range of motion also improved my outlook and attitude on many things, including a possible splitasana.

After all the science, torture devices, and doing weird things to improve flexibility and range of motion, it comes down this: there is no magic pill.  No such thing as 6-minute abs or straddling two folding chairs in two weeks.  It’s like Bruce Lee said, “The best way to learn how to fight is to fight.”

In any venture, achievement comes from the doing.  Keep doing.  Be consistent.  Love the process and want the goal.  I found Jujimufu on YouTube and his side splits are legendary.  How did he do it?  By practicing side splits.  That’s it.  Every day.  So much time wasted on vudu, when reality was right there.

Success is in the process.  And … it’s never too late to restart.

 

We Live in the Empty Space

A house is not useful in its walls, roof, and floors.  It is only valuable for the empty space it creates.

The purpose of a doorway isn’t about its frame or arch, however grand or rudimentary it may be.  No; the doorway is a passage from one place to another.  It’s value is in the possibilities it provides.  Without the doorway’s empty space, it’s just a wall.

Without silence, there is no music.  Without pause, there is no dialogue.  Without the emptiness on a page, there are no words.  Without Ozzy, there is no Black Sabbath.  Just sayin’.

The application of a cup is not in its material or its shape.  It’s about what it can hold.  The value is in the empty space and the quality of what fills it.  It’s about who and what is in the room and what takes place there.  It’s not about the brick and mortar of the corporate building, a dojo, or a studio, but the atmosphere, culture, philosophy, and approach therein.  An art gallery is nothing without the art inside.

While the tangible can increase the monetary value of the space it creates, it cannot elevate the quality of whom or what fills it.  Oak over pine.  Leather instead of cloth.  Stone and marble; not plywood and stucco.  Craftsmanship and design also play their part.  Given the choice, most of us prefer high quality tangibles.  Nothing wrong with that.  I’ll take a Bentley over a Chevy any day.  But … who’s driving?

We have a weird relationship with empty space, don’t we?  Even when it comes to time, we want to fill it with busyness.  Even when it’s quiet, we put on some music.  And it’s Depeche Mode telling us to “Enjoy the Silence”.  That’s … not confusing at all.

Instead of focusing on doing, we should learn to embrace and enjoy being.  We need to ‘sway through the crowd to an empty space.  Thank you, David Bowie.  Now that there’s room, “Let’s Dance”.

The empty space is where creativity happens, relationships are made, deals are done, music is created and played, conversations take place, poems are written, and thought manifests into ideas, solutions, and maybe even enlightenment.

It’s where we learn, eat, sleep, relax, read, watch, listen, breathe (metaphorically too), dance, play, gather (not too many), work, and laugh.  It’s where we move.

Life is lived in the empty space.

Photo by Jez_Timms on Unsplash

 

Life: Let’s Not Be So Guess-So About It

“Walk on the road.  Walk right side, safe.  Walk left side, safe.  Walk middle; sooner or later, get squished just like grape.  Here, karate same thing.  Either you karate do yes, or karate do no.  You karate do guess-so, squish, just like grape.  Understand?”  Mr. Miyagi; circa 1984.

This is true everywhere in our lives, right?  We get up from the couch to go to the kitchen to do whatever, but our mind is on a completely different subject and we slam our shin into the coffee table.  Squish, like grape.  When we’re not fully present, we burn ourselves while grilling, spill our drink, and forget to get off at our exit.  Sometimes  we end up in a room and forget why we went there.  Relax, we’re not losing our memory; we were never fully engaged in the first place.

While we like to think we can multi-task, there are a number of recent studies showing that we actually suck at it.  Our brains just don’t work that way and things go sideways.  But, we continue to try at our own peril.

To get the most out of an experience, keep our shins intact, and actually complete a project that doesn’t need to be redone due to errors, we need to be there completely.  Or, at least the greater majority of our brain does.

We should never do karate guess-so, which is why we need to center ourselves.  At the beginning of Hapkido class, before physical warm-up, we practice Ki breathing.  Ki, in Korean or Japanese, is like Qi or Chi in Chinese.  Hapkido, Aikido, Qigong, Tai Chi.  Ki is the universal energy that binds all things.  It is our life force; our breath.  In yoga, it is Prana.  And pranayama is the controlling of the breath.

At the beginning of yoga class, we take a few minutes to center ourselves by focusing on our breath.  It switches our brain from the strobe-light effect to just on, while getting our brain ready for the practice to come.

To balance on one foot or to hold a twisted pose takes concentration, effort, and attentiveness; complete presence in the here and now.  These poses (asana), along with controlled breath, brings the mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical aspects of our being into a state of harmony.

When performing Ye Ma Fen Zong in Tai Chi, Osotogari in Hapkido, Vrikasana in yoga, or the infamous crane technique in Miyagido Karate, that physical task demands our full mental focus.  This brings a stillness to the mind, allowing our consciousness to expand and access a higher state of awareness.  Strength, flexibility, and other health benefits come as byproducts of the practice.  Bonus!

Wait: A higher state of awareness?  Expanding our consciousness?  Am I getting smarter?  Uh …

Does it always work?  No.  “What was that move John Wick did to that guy?”  “What are we doing this weekend?”  “Ooh, frozen yogurt sounds good.”  And … it goes on.  This happens in martial arts as well.  It happens in basketball, driving down the highway, and playing poker.  “Why did I go all in with a Jack-Seven off-suit?!”  Well, at least now you’re out of the game, giving you freedom to think about that crap you were thinking about when poker was getting in the way, right?  Jack-Seven off-suit gets you squished, like grape.

Guess-so is okay, when its okay.  But when life matters, let’s not be so guess-so about it.  Squished grapes aren’t bad either.  I like a nice red blend.

Photo by Tianshu Liu on Unsplash

What Do We Do When Passion is Half Dead?

Half-life is a term commonly used in the world of nuclear physics and pharmaceuticals; the time required for a quantity to reduce to half its initial value.  And from there, it’s all downhill at an exponential rate.

But what about that doughnut.  Yesterday it was fresh, last night it was edible, but today its dried wood.  Other perishables like thoughts, emotions, and leftovers have a half-life as well.  I was going to use milk as an example, but that just seems to die the day after the expiration date.  It’s good, good, good, then bloody horrific.  No half-life on milk.

Passion has a half-life.  It’s an intense and barely controllable emotion.  It burns like a new star; a sun engulfing our thoughts, responsibilities, and our lives with heat and light.  Nothing escapes uncompromised.

Some advice from Ben Franklin; “If passion drives you, let reason hold the reins.”  Just sayin’.

But then … the fuel begins to run out, the core contracts, and things begin to cool.  Now what?  What do we do about this?  Can we do anything?  Should we do anything?  Passionately speaking.

There are so many articles, books, and blogs on how to stay passionate, but they use words like dedication, work, perseverance, and goal-setting.  What?!  Logical advice to fix and emotional problem?  That’s like flipping the light switch on the wall to get water from the faucet.

Other advice from these same sources, address dwindling passion in terms of you as if you are the problem.  No shit!  Of course we’re the problem and its natural.  Even skydiving can get mundane and routine after the one-thousandth jump.  Nothing has changed with the activity.  Everything is exactly the same as day one, except us.

But our passion didn’t die, it just changed.  And this isn’t such a bad thing, because now we’re able to think a bit clearer, see the road in front of us, and make better decisions.  Oh shit, our neo cortex is communicating with our limbic system!  Love and logic, passion and responsibility, excitement and rationality; cats and dogs living together.  What is going on!?  Well, if we turn on the light switch, we can see the faucet.

Balanced intelligence.

So you’re not all over each other like it’s your third date (Hey, I’m old school; shut up).  But now, five years into marriage, the passion is still there, but its not searing your eyebrows off.  It’s changed for the better.  Seriously, have you seen anyone without eyebrows?  Eww.

When the adrenaline rush, hormonal overload, and nitrous oxide injection taper off, we’re able to drive better, control the vehicle, and relax into the experience.  Hey, are these seats Corinthian leather?

Whatever the passion, a relationship, a car, skydiving, yoga, martial arts, a new job, or playing an instrument; they all start out pretty hot, but when things begin to cool, we think we lost our passion.  No, the passion didn’t die, it’s just reshaping itself.  For some of us, we recognize the goodness in that.

And yes … stars burn out.  It happens.  That milk aint’ coming back.

Photo by Ian Schneider on Unsplash.