I May Be Young

I may be young,
but I am old enough
to know
that I don't know
nothing.

You See Black and I See Shadows.

So now I have been to King Kone. My last soft serve related blog had it wrong--that place was Dairy Cone. Today I went to King Kone with two volunteers, Adam and Thomas, and it was one of those times I wish could be captured on keyboard but the best I could do was just breathe into it and not miss a moment. Shouldn't all life be like that? What the hell is art for anyway?

If I had a voice recorder maybe that could be a start to explaining my voyage for art supplies and ice cream. Adam is one of those talkers who never stops and his mind of full of non-sequiturs, stories, rants, and randomness. His driving is crazy but for some reason didn't scare me. Maybe because I had no choice, or maybe because I was busy laughing my ass off. I also think he curses more than any other volunteer. He is not capable of sucking up or being socially appropriate. Also in the car was Thomas, a very quiet guy and a triple Cancer, who was, like me, busy laughing his ass off. But it wasn't the Adam Show, that's not what I want it to seem like. That's just what he is made of. His energy is rubbery and silly but gruff at the same time, a funny combination. People are put off by him but they talk to him anyway.

The highlighted ongoing joke on the journey was honking at people walking on sidewalks and then waving away from them. Like waving at the pretend person walking on the exact opposite side of the street.

But the great thing about Adam is he has markers and paint pens. Lots of them, and they are FUN. This morning he was like, "I want to make some Drorrings, I'm going to do some drorring." He wasn't trying to be funny, that's how he actually talks. He makes some wacky drawings on standard size business envelopes. Lots of ladies, faces, fish, birds made from a mind full of non-sequiturs (as mentioned earlier) but also a mind with an eye for monochromatic color and texture. His talent could definitely be developed. He described one time walking into Parsons School of Design trying to see what could happen (I'm not sure what) but totally being ignored or laughed at or something.

I think I decided today that my mind is good at looking at macrocosms and also microcosms. I think that was what my winter 08 work was good for (http://www.perlow-stevensgallery.com/painting/merrello.php). I'm revisiting that work right now in small studies with drawing materials. I'm really getting into drawing materials thanks to Adam, something I haven't been into in a really long time (That's what I meant when I said the really great thing about Adam). Using what I have learned from all of my digital manipulation I have done and lending that knowledge to painterly techniques in the real world.

I feel like a painter and an inventor, which are both cool things to feel like and access. I've felt this way since the moon has gone into Cancer yesterday. Stay tuned. I'm working on an installation idea, some tattoo art ideas (not for human bodies), earthworks, a patent, and hopefully a commission. Something's cooking. '

Much LOVE to you!!! Send some for yourself and then send some out to someone else.

Holler,

Dr. Dream

Hurr

So Jake thinks this is pretty funny, especially since I poked fun at him a little in my last blog, but I did something that I'm learning a lot of women do here: give myself something of an extreme haircut.  I don't know why Jake keeps coming up in this blog, but we work together and he's a really chatty, honest person.  He journals as well, so I guess he is familiar with this type of inner dialogue and discovery, you know, corny shit like that.  I actually kind of want to use him as an example to write about ego and anger, but maybe that will come up later.  

I had the day off yesterday and noticed that my hair was feeling really thick and the top layers were a little long for my face. 

There is a cardinal rule of haircutting to not thin out the very last layer (the hair growing closest to the nape of the neck), and this rule applies even for thick haired gals like myself.  A rule that I apparently forgot, because the first thing I did was break that rule.  

The cut looks fine.  However, I really thinned out that under layer of hair.  It is so thin that it looks silly to wear my hear down.  So if you see me soon and wonder why my hair is in cute little Susanne Sommers braids, now you know.  But I'll probably tell you my short saga anyway. 

I'm feeling okay about it now, but 36 hours ago until 7 hours ago, I was pretty upset.  My voluptuous, ravishing hair is one of my best attributes, and it has taken me THREE years to grow it out!  Now it's all scraggly and thin!  

What's more, how can I be so VAIN!?!??!

Just another thing to process that I didn't realize needed processing.  I mean, come on.  I'm not wearing makeup, I'm not blowdrying my hair, I don't even use hair product anymore--I just put lotion or coconut oil in it!!!   I didn't THINK I had vanity issues!  That (ego processing or any other type of processing) happens a lot here, because there are no distractions.  This allows for any personal issue that needs dealing with to come up and be reckoned with.  Guess I need so stop being so vain and wrapped up in my hair. 

The Little Things

Man,

So last week was my friend Jake's birthday. It was also the birthday week of three other volunteers, but the day of the event I am about to describe happened to be Jake's birthday. He and I work in veggie prep together and he is about as Leo as they come. So naturally, he wanted a haircut on his birthday. Leos are ALL about the hair. He keeps his hair really short already, in a buzz cut, so I didn't quite understand the inspiration at first but nevertheless.

We had both been let off of work early that day. I was feeling good by the time I got to lunch, having had a noon class and a shower/whirlpool (out of my normal ritual, I know) and I ran into him there, as well as our fellow volunteer Misha, whose birthday had been the day before. She volunteered to drive him to Pittsfield, a town close by, so he could go to his FAVORITE barber shop. How you find a favorite barber shop within two months of living somewhere, I don't know, leave it to a Leo...

I needed to buy some lotion so I tagged along. Prior to this, I had a minor sugar craving and purchased a cookie in the cafe. Sort of a 'healthy' (it was natural and was made with whole wheat flour) but indulgent cookie all at once (definitely made with butter and sugar, but probably a natural sugar of some sort like agave nectar--definitely not white sugar). It was delicious. As we drove out to Pittsfield, Jake wanted some cash, so we pulled off at a gas station with an atm sign. He came back to the car with a bottle of water, some cash, and bazooka joe bubble gum. So I had a piece of gum with not only white sugar, but also artificial flavoring and coloring, preservatives, etc. I know this sounds really silly to all of you readers out there, but by this point I had a nice little buzz going and was feeling faintly nauseous.

The barber shop was very cool, nestled into a small building, sharing the space with a little tattoo shop. It was definitely a dude's barber shop, kind of retro and modern, full of tattooed dudes giving some nice precision buzz cuts, maxim magazines on the cushy leather bench, black and white tile, and huge ceiling fans blowing at full blast. The dudes looked really serious about what they were doing. There was one female barber and she was the one who took Jake. He normally had a favorite guy, and old guy, but to the disappointment of Jake he wasn't there that day.

After Jake's head was buzzed with a #2 and his beard, hairline and eyebrows were styled, we were ready to go. Jake wanted next to go to King Cone.

Little did I know, King Cone is a serious soft serve ice cream shack. We tumbled out of Misha's old blue grand am (which feels like a canopy bed from a horror movie set in the 19th century by the way, all she needs to do is take out her stereo and put in some strange chandelier) and examined the ice cream options. Misha marched right up to the lady and had her cone, white chocolate and black raspberry twist, within the first breath I took. Jake and I got vanilla dipped in a coconut coating. Small size, which was probably the equivalent to a large at Dairy Queen. I saw some guys with larges, and I was amazed that those towers of ice cream were hanging on--they were as vast as Montana.

Holy shit. This was definitely the most delicious soft serve I have ever had in my life. I had no idea that this sort of thing had the room for foodie-ism or was worthy of any connoisseur type attention. But this was ridiculous. The coating was made with some sort of awful delicious partially hydrogenated oil and had little flecks of toasted coconut in it. The ice cream was smoother than silk and white as snow. I don't think I have had a normal poop since.

We listened to some Gang Starr, Biggie and Tupac on the way back as we munched the terrible treats and sang along. When we got back we were due for a volunteer "off the mat" meeting, which tend to be pretty serious and heartfelt by the way. I don't know about Jake and Misha but I felt pretty nauseous and hyper during it. When I looked over at Misha she looked really dreamy and meditative, and Jake looked really tense and had his arms crossed over his chest.

Anyway, so that's the story of how my sugar addiction has come back, and that is a slight thing that I'm dealing with right now. I'm eating a piece of chocolate as I write this. It has dried cherries and chiles in it, hot damn.

Rituals

I am finding a lot of comfort in my daily rituals. It reminds me of home actually, the way I used to make dinner in the evenings, watch Project Runway on Wednesday nights, check emails in the morning, feel Isis licking my toes as I woke up. Little rituals are grounding for me, and I love the soothing feeling of nourishment as I move from one thing to the next. In my life that is changing internally it is good to have external sensations to rely on.

Life here happens a little faster (and a little slower), so instead of a more weekly pattern of ritual that I had in my old life, here I have a daily pattern. At the request of a relative, I will impart to any curious reader what my average day looks like.

As I may have mentioned before I sleep on a top bunk in a room of 26 women. The bunks caravan around one side of the curved hallway-type-room, and on the other side of the hallway-type-room is a wall of windows. The view is some sort of generator, some big ass tree, and in the distance many beautiful mountains, trees, a lake, and some big ass sky. So it feels pretty open. Each bed has curtains for privacy but also to shield the sun in the morning. My top bunk is at the part of the room that curves, the middle, so I have a very central open position in the room. I fall asleep at night with my curtains open, because I like to look at the night sky before I fall asleep, and also the feeling of curtains tends to feel pretty claustrophobic. There are usually about five satellites in the sky, and I wonder why I never notice any in Missouri. I wonder if there is hightened security here because I am closer to a coast. I like the look of clouds at night. And the rolling Berkshires, sometimes hazy and blue gray at night time. Two trees in the distance that mirror each other, sort of alone in the distance--I usually look at them before I fall asleep. I touch the stones in my pillow case, and fall asleep. Around 6am as the sky grows more light, I come out of slumber for a moment just to pull my curtain half closed to shut out some light. My alarm clock is set to 7:25 am. I always wake up a few moments before it goes off. Sometimes I lay in bed for a still moment and slowly open the curtain if it is quiet and people have the day off and are sleeping in. Sometimes if I hear other girls talking I throw the curtain open to announce my waking.

I get dressed for work if it is a work day. Jeans or a simple skirt, a t shirt, and black dansko clogs. I go eat breakfast in the cafeteria. In the cafeteria in the morning there is no talking allowed. There is also miso soup offered every single morning, in addition to more normal things. When I first got here all I could eat in the morning was miso soup with a little brown rice in it. Now I usually eat some sort of porridge with walnuts, maple syrup, dried fruit, and soy yogurt. I always have rooibos tea for breakfast. I fill my water bottle and sometimes remember to take my antibiotic or zinc supplement. I go to work at 8:15.

Lance is my boss in the veggie prep kitchen. His last name is Dragonetti which is Italian for "Little Dragon". One time this Russian lady who barely speaks English asked him what his language was. He replied dryly, "Brooklynese". Little Danny Devitoesque guy. He always seems really happy to see me though. I check in and see what to do first. I give Andres a high five or a pound or something, he's my Colombian high school friend. His mom is a manager. A girl my age named Emily is the other manager. They switch off each day for who is in charge, the go to person for any questions. I start working, maybe I chop a shit ton of kale, maybe I sort salad greens. Find some lady bugs or beetles. After about an hour we have a 'check in' to get an emotional climate for the day. Sometimes Lance asks me to do it. We stand in a circle. Check in with each person and say how's it going? At around 10 I get a break and check my email. At around noon I get an hour lunch. Today instead of lunch I went to a "Journey Dance" class, which is kind of a shamanic yogic dancing that is very fun. On Saturdays there is live drumming, so I wanted to check it out. Today also I helped this guy Shawn, who has a Mayor Quimby accent, shuck 300 ears of corn. We got to do it outside and we found three baby corns, one who looked like rapunzel we decided. Shawn also discovered that if you inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth as you break the corn, it doesn't hurt the wrists. He started that from a sarcastic bent (he's not a yogi) but he ended up really getting into breathing while shucking. We clean and scrub the kitchen when all the work is done. At 4:00 I get off work.

I change clothes and go to yoga at 4:15. I decide what type of class I want to go to, lately I do more vigorous (ie advanced). They have a 'gentle' class which I wish was more low key or yin, but it is actually a 'beginner' class (they just don't want to use the word beginner) and usually has too much talking and explaining for me. The 'vigorous' class I went to today was actually not that vigorous at all. We did do a ton of arm balances though. I will have to include a photo of the new pose I learned today: Firefly pose. Most of the time when class gets out at 5:45 I slide into the moderate class which includes a half hour meditation at the end. I meditate until 6:15 and then down to the whirlpool/sauna which has a beautiful communal shower. It sounds odd showering in a locker room type shower, but it is actually very nice, pretty pearly tiles and low soothing lighting, smells like cedar from the sauna, no nasty curtains or flourescent lights. I think if the showers weren't there and I couldn't just walk up to my room from the showers in my towel, it wouldn't feel like home. So luckily my room is at the top of the stairs from the showers. I shower off to prepare to sit in the whirlpool. I put conditioner in my hair and tie it up so it can condition while I'm in the whirlpool. I then go to the whirlpool, hop in, and find a jet to massage my muscles. I sit in there for about 10 minutes, sometimes I sing, sometimes there is a lot of chatting with other gals, sometimes silence. I get out and submerge myself in the cold pool for at least six deep breaths. I go back into the shower room and finish my shower with soap, rinse the conditioner out of my hair. I usually run into this massage student Amanda at this point. She always takes the first showerhead and I always take the second, and we pick each other's brains. I dry off, run upstairs, put on lotion (the whirlpool is chlorinated) or coconut oil (this is really popular among volunteers right now), arrange my hair, get dressed, and this is the ritual in my day where I feel completely clean and annointed. Now I am ready to eat my dinner.

After dinner who knows what happens. A walk, a lecture, kirtan (chanting), a conversation, an impromptu craft night, a fire ceremony, a dance, anything and many things.

I go to bed when I am ready, I think I stay up later when the moon is more full.

Happy lunar eclipse and full moon everyone. I think I'll contradict myself and go to bed now--I'm exhausted.

Breaking

So something has come to my attention that I'm pretty happy about. I was going to start somewhere else with this, but I'll just launch into it.

I have had a curiousity about breakdancing for quite some time now. Also, in yoga, I'm pretty good at arm balances. In more of an ashtanga yogic tradition, the flows of the practice definitely look like a dance. Culturally, as we all know, I LOVE hip hop and all of its aspects of spiritual growth and transformation. At its healthiest state it represents a spiritual empowerment from an authentic place, and that is what I am all about in terms of my art teaching and yoga teaching, and what I want to do for the next generation.

So breakdancing is in my awareness. Yoga is in my awareness. People who do yoga and can have a good time without drinking are in my awareness. So I feel like the conditions are right for this heart's desire of mine to bubble up and manifest.

I met someone awhile ago who is a hare krishna staying here as a yoga teacher trainer and he practices break dancing every night before he goes to bed. I met a 17 year old Colombian who works in veggie prep with me who skateboards and is teaching himself to break dance in his spare time. By the way, he will be a junior in high school this year and I really like the energy of being around high school students--it kind of makes me miss substitute teaching.

Last night it was my friend Nicole's birthday and some fellow volunteers and I went out to dance at a club in Lenox--which was really fun, but also my friend Scott who is a yoga teacher and volunteer busted out some breakdancing moves. I appreciate Scott because when I tell him I am from Missouri, not only does he not treat me like a hick, he actually has attended Mizzou as well. Very affirming.

I think I am going to do some breakdancing.

Dropping onto the face of the planet.

Kripalu is a place. It is my home right now, and today is my "Saturday". Usually during Saturdays in the 'real' world, I appreciate the luxury of being able to amble around my house in the peace and quiet of a space that I have created for myself, go to the market, pick out 'my' food, arrange it in my space at home, plan a meal to cook...many, many things that have no function in my life now.

Here there is no personal space. I have a twin bed on the upper bunk, 10"x20" of a window ledge, a 20"x18" bedside table (the top side of someone else's closet), and approximately 18"x18"x48" of clothing storage. And a spot for my large suitcase and shoes under the bottom bunk.

I love it.

I never realized how much ego was attached to the space we allow ourselves to have to ourself. And it has been one of the many things I have been confronting and letting go since I have arrived here on the first.

So here I am, no dishes to do, no meals to plan, no shopping pending, now my priority at the moment is updating my loved ones. I have lived here for two weeks and have toyed with the idea of starting a blog but now I am ready. I have not dropped off the face of the planet, rather, something quite opposite has happened.

What I really wanted to write about was an experience I had yesterday. After the produce chopping for the day was complete, my friend Carolyn exclaimed, "Let's run down to the beach and jump in the lake!" Mind you, this isn't Missouri. Here a "hot" day just means that you can barely stand being outdoors in your bikini. So, daydreams of Missouri in mind (for me anyway), we scrambled into our outdoor gear after work and toppled down the hill to the lake trail, cackling and shrieking because we couldn't run any less fast than the hill allowed, which was damn fast.

We swam out into the water and all these green things grabbed us, long spirally sturdy stems who grow towards the light at the top of the water. After an invigorating swim we crawled onto the dock, unintentionally (for us) draped and decorated with these things. So that was a photo op.

We then shoved off onto the Volunteer canoe and paddled out to the island, discussing ideas for art installations as therapy for the planet. Carolyn is involved with public art in Boston and is a great source for networking and info. More on her later I'm sure. Mainly we discussed excitedly a teacher trainer here, Kelly, who is a grad student at RISD and makes clay yoga mats and does her practice on top of them as installations. Carolyn and I riffed on that idea, discussing this Boston harbor area that she is involved with, how we could roll out 100 clay mats and have 100 people practice and bless the earth.

We arrived on the island, crawled onto the dock and started exploring. She showed me wintergreen growing underneath my two favorite trees (again, I probably need a picture of this) and we ate some. People in New England, by the way, love foraging. We had an impromptu yoga practice on some earth, overlooking the lake. It was very pleasant, so pleasant that suddenly my senses were filled with the aroma and sensation of thyme. I looked down, and thyme was growing wild, carpeting the ground that I was practicing upon. The herbal sensation was inexplicably satisfying and left me feeling very connected and happy.

So here I am, dropping onto the face of the planet, and I will try to update you all as much as I can.

With love, and

Victory for all!