Confessions of a Yoga Dick.

Wow. I threw some harsh indictments out there last night, some unnecessarily grating, painfully-obvious-to-the-point-of-definite-insecurity-and-shame-because-of-it judgements and criticisms. I do that. Attack other people when I get tired of attacking myself. But my answer to everything? 

Do Yoga.

Yeah. In a perfect world, everyone would be inverting themselves and so mindful ad nauseum that nothing would ever be bad or wrong and we’d know just how to deal with something best and get over it with relative ease. Right. T would seem that my yoga world very often fits so well into my skewed idea of “reality”, and becomes something of a fantasy itself. 

I, am a Yoga Dick. But I really don’t mean to be; it just… happens. Sublimely self-righteous and brimming with the need to control, I scour my psychological landscape, and others’, finding kinks and chinks in the marrow and doing my best to interject with some post-modern wisdom from antiquity. It can be REALLY annoying, and I can only imagine what I must sound like sometimes: Am I THAT guy? Major dread face. 

For my part, I mean well and really just want the best for people. I’m one of those people who are really good at seeing what’s wrong with something but not really that good at all at offering practical advice or ideas on how to go about solving it; I would appear to be a bit of a one-trick pony, much to my chagrin. 

So, yes, I battle constantly with this thing called an EGO. I thought I got rid of it long ago, or at least came to peace with it when I went on that fantastic psilocybin trip but I’ve long-since been learning that it is definitely a journey and not a destination like I had once thought. Now I’m going on 30 years young in less than a month and I’m faced with my own shitty behavior I’m still finding myself tempted to run from.

By all outward appearances, I have it made: A beautiful and naturally striking Asian girlfriend who makes beautiful babies and has one adorable and sweet boy of her own, who also loves the shit out of me. And we have each other. Of course, even the best relationships have their particular challenges and upsides and downfalls but what lies at the core of this one is something real. It’s just all the other “stuff” that gets in the way; her stuff, but mostly my stuff. Internal stuff. That stuff you write about and dream about and think about all the time. That stuff that’s you, inside.

This stuff in and of itself is not such a bad thing, it’s just how we deal with it ourselves and together that determines if said stuff is going to be a problem or not. When you aren’t always the most open and sharing with your stuff, it creates this parallel universe in your mind that’s like a parasite feeding off the one you’re really living. One day you wake up and you’re sucked dry and cease to exist, maybe you never did because you were just so caught up in this other “stuff” you think you want to do but aren’t doing, never doing. 

It’s kids and work and bills and any number of societal obligations that become the manifested wedges between ourselves and our “selves” that ultimately drive us to some matter of psychosis, either slowly over time or abruptly and tears apart the fabric of being surrounding us. It changes us. Unchecked and unfulfilled lives and desires breed contempt which breeds hatred either passively or aggressively and before we know it we’re spinning out of control in this cycle of abuse that we tried to work so hard at avoiding in the first place. It’s really interesting, and sad. 

I still hold out hope that yoga is that one true thing (read: gift) that we can all “do”, and benefit from to some degree, whether it’s to gain strength and tone up or down to secondarily bump up our self-esteem and love for ourselves, or to just chill the f out and learn to let stuff go, and truly relax. But sometimes when we get started down this path, we get so excited by our own results that we become a little over-zealous and, intentionally or not, begin to proselytize and throw seeds where they were never wanted or asked for. 

Just because it worked for you, doesn’t mean it’s going to work for everyone else, no matter how many styles or teachers there are out there and just because a person looks to you like they need your help and “infinite wisdom” to get through life doesn’t mean they want or need it from you. Maybe even at all. So, keep up with your own practice but kindly butt out. Check that ego at the door and ask yourself if you’re really offering your help out of the kindness of your heart or some other, more sinister, karmic… thing, man.

Eat a Peach.

  Ok. Admittedly, I've never been a huge Grateful Dead fan; I respect the adoration and devotion of their fans but I never really "got" the whole thing. I still don't know that I do but without straining my mind on it, I've come up with that it's just a lifestyle more than anything, the festival life/ roadie life/ hippie life. Doing the tour circuit along with the band, following them wherever they may go.
  That's a portion of them, the rest just like some chill ass music to take drugs to, not that I have anything against that; I mean, it's better to drop acid at a Dead show (or any other side band affiliated with them) than, say, The Acacia Strain (even though I like them too). There's certainly something to be said for any band who has maintained such a devoted following, and of generally positive things. Sure, there's lots of "drug" use there but people just want to escape for a few hours to a place of magic and wonder. Can you blame them?
 
  Coming fresh off a weekend music festival high up on Montage Mountain in Scranton, my faith in humanity and life itself has once again been salvaged and restored, for the most part; there's always a handful of assholes but that's just life. The whole thing was beautiful, though. My girlfriend Rachel might disagree (haha) with me on that because not everyone's idea of fun consists of trudging up a ski slope to your tent site but for me it gives me camping wood, plus the view was to die for. And let's not even talk about the sunsets. Yes, be jealous. Then get yourself a ticket and go next year!
   Anyways, there was a lot of initial anxiety regarding not being able to camp with your vehicle, as I'm accustomed to, and having to grab your gear, head to a shuttle pick up area, load up then be taken to the camping area. The first trip was disorienting and exhausting but we managed to be broadsided by the kindness of strangers, thanks to our neighbor, Bob. I forget what Bob does or where he came from but for a few hours we co-existed as if we've known each other for years. It's that random kindness from people you don't know but who are there for all the same reasons you are that really make me go all soft inside. It's a beautiful thing.
  Now, Bob isn't perfect. No one is. He was a little clingy, got belligerently drunk and nearly inflicted permanently disfiguring oil burns on all of us by his drunken clumsiness around a camp cooker but we survived, and the fact of the matter is he went along back with us on our second trip to the truck to grab more gear. Had we not met him, it would have taken three trips back and forth, easily. The man even fed me beers until I got my own, so he's ok in my book.
  Rachel and I walked around with Bob the first night, got drunk and just wandered, eventually losing him but ending up laying on a blanket gazing up at the clouds on a beautiful mountain night with The Allman Brothers Band as our soundtrack, hoopers and trippers surrounding us, the landscape awash in grooving bodies and lit up by glow sticks and the air perfumed by marijuana and patchouli. Definitely a good night.

  Eventually, we ended up back at the tent, just what time it was exactly was irrelevant at that point, and that's the beauty of festivals. Shit, camping in general or just spending time in nature does the same but couple that with three days of music and no reason to be anywhere soon and you're living, my friend. You're living.
  It doesn't take long for your biological clock to reset itself. Maybe you go to bed early, maybe you stay up late but get up earlier. Do whatever your body feels like without having to strap yourself to a schedule. In that respect, I definitely get the whole vibe of these bands and their fans, that culture. And it is a culture, for sure. Me, personally, I feel very much at home in it, for the most part. I dig the earthy/artsy/eco things in life, and I like to live simply as much as I can, but there's always a part of me that's either ready or at least accepting of the fact that the dream can't last forever; at some point reality has to come back in to play.
    We got to spend one more whole day of just resting, relaxing and exploring on Saturday, which entailed checking out Karl Denson's Tiny Universe's whole set, along with jamming out to Citizens Band Radio later, who just tore it up in that southern boogie style and capped the night off with round two of The Allman Brothers, who opened up with my favorite tune, "You Don't Love Me". Don't let the title fool you, though: I was definitely feeling the love all weekend long :)

  Our weekend came to an end that night, as we sat together in our tent with the "door" open, letting the cool night air in, just taking in the sights and sounds, and eventually turning in, cuddled up together in the chilly night air. The weather was perfect, as was the company the time was spent with.
  We didn't stay for any of the bands Sunday, as I'm ready to get back home and unpack and relax before getting slammed back into the vocational doldrums Monday. I would have liked to see The Black Crowes but there's always another time; I'd say we did pretty damn good with what we did do, as so often it's easy to do too much at a festival like that. Bonnaroo especially, since there's so many good bands that you want to see but you just can't do it all. Times like that you just have to take a minute and breathe, remember that this is supposed to be your relaxing vacation, not work with more schedules and having to be somewhere at a certain time. If you do, fine. If not, even better. It often goes that the best show you see is the one you never planned on by a band you never even heard of.

  It's a little depressing seeing everyone suck back into themselves, packing up and going back to their own individual planes of existence in their corner of the world. You go back to being total strangers but you'll be back, and there will be a whole other completely new and different, yet similar, brand of experiences with people you never knew you knew.

  This makes two festivals for me this year, and as much as I'd love to make it three, it just may not be feasible. I have to be careful not to spoil it for myself though, as these things can be an addiction of their own, and sooner or later it loses the appeal for me. I never want it to because for a few days, I get to live off the grid. I can turn my phone off once I get there (after making the appropriate calls to loved ones ensuring your safety) and not worry about it until it's over. I can feel like a human being, I can feel like myself and not have to answer to anyone or put on a front to appease my employer.
 

   Until next time,
 
   See you there.


-Shane
8.18.13

In the meantime..

  Man, are these days getting shorter or am I just piling on more things to do in a day's time? I'm happy to have been keeping a fairly consistent post schedule, and can only hope to continue to improve. I also want to take a moment to thank all those of you who have stopped by or continue to stop by to see what my brain cooks up next; it is really wonderful to have my stuff be read and I really can't tell you how much it means to me, even if you hate it. Thanks.

  Now, I've had a busy week here with no signs of slowing until next weekend. I'm going to have to finish packing for Peach Music Festival at Montage Mountain in Scranton (PA), which I'm going to with my lovely girlfriend, Rachel, who also happens to be the reason anyone is reading this right now. The idea to blog itself did not come from her but the support and gentle push to really start did, and she helped me set up Letters of Love, Letters of Life. With her continued support and inspiration (and amazing cooking), I hope to go farther than I ever could have dreamed of going just on my own. There is definitely something to be said about surrounding yourself with the right people in your life.

  Thanks so much, again, for stopping by and reading a piece or two, giving my words a chance to be heard. New site in the works! Check back later for more details!!

  But in the meantime...

"I think you should just keep writing. Don’t force it of course, and like you’ve said and I agree the best writing comes in bursts of strong energy when necessary. However I think you should try not to be as concerned with the style of your writing and whether or not it is yours or not and just let it flow, because I think it is doing something for you that you may not be aware of yet. Something like I said, therapeutic.."

-Thank you, Jane. 
Always a true inspiration!