1. It has been discussed, voted on, seconded and casually mentioned in follow up with some degree of excitement that Happy Hour Yoga in Pilsen will begin learning to chant Sanskrit (not "sans skirt," as was recently assumed).  Let me say a word on that, because I almost never do.  The reason why I do not chant in Sanskrit in my yoga classes is not just because "it freaks people out."  (Though it definitely does, let's be serious.)  My intention in teaching is to create a community practice made out of things that are relevant to the people practicing.  This is a slowly evolving thing, and we're beginning with the most basic practice of being here with all of our seeming un-sacred bullcrap and banality.  (I think that is pretty holy business, actually.  More on that later.)  But the main reason is, in my experience, chanting is a sure fire way to invoke the devil of Taking Oneself Way Too Freaking Seriously.  And along those lines, here's my thing on the display of super sacred solemn shit: If you are that devoted, and that sincere about your spiritual practice, you should be doing it at home by yourself with nobody watching you.  Period.  Getting all deep into your innermost reaches in a demonstrative public way is akin, as I see it, to touching your privates on the subway.  Think about it.  For real.

That said, I certainly do not think chanting yogis are all shrines to sanctimonious vanity, and appreciate that this blog is an easy target for the same critique.  Ahem.  That's not really the point.  The point is, the Pilsen class is busting at the seams with over-educated curious types, and I'm pretty sure they are interested in, how do you say, learning for its own sake.  So, the attitude we will be taking is one of elementary introduction.  We will not be lighting candles and feigning some kind of Feeling It For Patanjali in our deepest heart of hearts, because we are not Feeling It, and barely ever do what he suggested we do*.

2. Remember last summer when I went away and rang churchbells in a tower for a month?  I'm going to do it again.  This time only for a week, April 25 - May 2.  Rest assured I will keep you informed of what is happening via belfry, but for the moment, the news you need to know is this: that week, Happy Hour Yoga will do something unprecedented in its history.  Rather than bringing someone from Elsewhere to teach in my stead, I've asked 3 Happy Hour Yoginis you already adore to lead our community practice.  Not to worry, I will write them a class sequence to follow, and maybe make y'all a music mix.  I fully expect this to be a hit, so please do hit it.  Here's the lineup of subs scheduled to dominate late April:

Monday 4/26: Hurricaine a.k.a. "Carrie"
Wednesday 4/28: Naomi "The Ruiner" Vaughan
Friday 4/30: SaraTonin Thompson. 

ENJOY.

3. You know what sucks more than impermanence?  Permanence, that's what.  Death is on my mind today, again, still, and death really brings that forward for me.  So I"m thinking, if nothing is permanent, WTF death?  And then I think about very large time scales, beyond lifetimes, and only then can I imagine death as a transition rather than a state of finality.  This morning I am here at Swim Cafe, watching groggy faces revive themselves with coffee and sugar on yet another Saturday morning, same as always and yet different, moving, shifting, and I think, ok impermanence, you win again, but the illusion of Forever, is kicking my ass right now, so give me a Perspective Maker to help me out, will you?  And here comes a song**.  Just that.  And inside of that song, the tangled hearts and drippy eyeballs of however many dozens or millions who heard it at exactly the right time, who became family through the blood of its melody, sit there alive and united and say, "Hey, Karen.  Look.  We're all here.  Now.  Nobody is going anywhere."  So, in a moment, the littlest one, there is a big something, a constantly moving infinite space of Nothing Lost.  How about that.  Tiny Little Now: a great place to hide.  If I hide there long enough, maybe they'll grant me citizenship.




*The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali outline a set of do's and don't's akin to the 10 commandments, differing only in that they make sense.  We can talk about them later.
*when Alex Chilton died, a little earthquake happened all around me, as I mourned Micah, and I felt both a part and not a part of it.  But I want to say I witnessed something wonderful, seeing that a music had truly made family of its listeners.  Those who knew and never knew Alex seemed grieve with identical sorrow.  His songs tied the brains and guts of the world together.  Might we all strive to make things like that.