Blissful living with Doron

Bocas Del Toro, Panama

2011-12-27T15:15:00.001-08:00

Costa Rica Photos

2011-12-27T15:14:00.000-08:00

Costa Rica to Panama and a hummingbird with no passport

2011-12-12T11:58:00.000-08:00

Just arrived in Bocas Del Torro, Panama. After the Yoga retreat was over, I moved to a small place across the street from the Caribbean waters where people were surfing. Had extra rain, after not having almost any for a week. It was nice rainforest rain, warm and relaxing. As I write here on the balcony of Hotel Olas, facing the water, a hummingbird keeps flying back and forth, showing off her little dance and long beak. Does she care she lives in Bocas?

The shuttle to Panama began with a minivan ride, chatting in Spanish with the driver and sharing torta y bananas, then crossed the border, walking over a very old rusty bridge, with lots of gaps between the boards (it used to be a railroad bridge), passport control through a mostly dark window of a run down, peeling blue wooden hut, while I am standing under grey sky, taking a pause from crying over the earth. (Of course I gave Lauren my rain Jacket, thinking I can always be OK without it - and I am. The rain poured mostly when in the car. When I needed to cross the bridge it stopped, waited till I finished all passport control stuff, and only resumed while I got back into the car - good rain Karma!!).

I step into a small room, to get a stamp in my passport, literally a little paper stamp in exchange for 3 dollars. Next desk is something like costumes. The man checks my knapsack and then points to a small door beside him. As I step in, I realize it’s a small toilet. Hmmm, what next? He points to my belly. Oh, Of course he wants me to lift the shirt to see I have no weapon, right? Well, no. Cash, he says. Cash?? Where is your money? In my bag, I respond. Show me, he demands in Spanish. I go to my bag, get the Ziploc, place it in my pocket and walk back to the tiny toilet. I hand him the cash. Earlier I had to declare how much money I am bringing in, so I thought, maybe he will check if the sum is right. I declared $1500, but really had only $700. He pulls out the money and goes through it, holding one bill after the other against the light shining from the tiny window above. He is not counting it, but rather making sure it is real. There is lots of fake money being passed into Panama, and they are controlling the money. OK. Done. I take my stuff, head to the next mini van for another hour or so ride. We arrive at the water; get into a speedboat, and head over to Bocas del Toro. Calm waters, passing islands of floating green vegetation. My butt hurts from the wooden seat; so I drop my thinking mind, soften my gaze towards the water, and surrender. Suddenly I am gone; water, sky and islands are here.

Lots of sail boats around. I take my carry on and walk off the boat, while everyone else has a backpack. I decide not to worry about what other people are thinking of me right now. I walk towards a hotel that maybe has my reservation. I was emailing them, but at a certain point they stopped emailing back. (Was it my lack of ability to send Western Union from Porto Viejo?) As I walk down the chill out street of Colon, the main island, wondering whether I have where to stay tonight, a few hustlers tried to offer me other places, but I think I look seasoned enough, that they did not bother me at all.

I got my room, pretty much exactly what I was hoping for. Well, a bit better really. Though I am in a standard room, from my bed I can see the ocean. The whole house is on stilts floating on the water. So with a slight angle I get the entire ocean. There is a public balcony with panoramic views (photos soon), and some chill out couches, perfect for me doing work. Oh, humming bird is back. She seems content to wander around freely, with no passport or cash, finding her food one moment at a time.

When registering I was offered coffee and cake. The man bringing it over spoke Spanish, but had a thick accent when speaking English. Not really a Spanish accent. It turns out his name is Avi, and you can guess where he is from! 20 years in Colombia, and now this is another business of his.

I asked the receptionist for another room that seemed open, and she said it was booked. Later, when I came down, I heard Avi asking her to switch me to that room. You never know when it pays off being Israeli.

Costa Rica, Samasati yoga retreat

2011-12-12T11:18:00.000-08:00

The group left. I stood by the 4x4 Japanese metallic green car, waiving at the people inside. They are on their way to the airport, passing through the Costa Rica rain forest, heading back to the US. A week of Yoga and meditation with dharma talks focusing on understanding the tendencies of our minds and how to clear it.

Though the group was pretty diverse, there was beautiful group energy, a support system created organically, and even some deep friendships or as one student said “I found my sister”.

Reggae blends with Latin, blacks with Hispanics, expats with serious tans, blond moms with Costa Rican looking kids, a blend of cultures, music and food, mixed with the ocean spice, topped off with jungle life. Sounds like it could be a mess, but rather it is one of the most peaceful, accepting and non-racist places I have ever encountered.

Wandering around the main strip of Porto Viejo is a delight, with plenty of little shops, bars and restaurants. With the ocean just a few steps away, maybe having a drink, possibly the local Imperial beer, (I chose the regular which is more of an amber color), or eating a Casado, the local classic of rice, beans, non veggie protein and fried plantains, on one big white plate, served hot and assured to satisfy a hungry stomach.

Down the road from Porto Viejo, we rode our red cruise bikes along small retreats, hostels, a bakery, an animal rescue, crossing a few rivers, all surrounded by the rain forest life. A huge neon blue butterfly flirts with me as I ride my bike, sloths watch us lazily from above, signs announcing land for sale, and in general a pretty mellow vibe.

Riding along the river we arrive at Playa Punta Uva, a beach spotted with palm trees bearing heavy coconuts, some cliffs with rain forest growth on one of its curves, medium waves washing away the footprints on the sand, allowing us to feel over and over again the rebirthing of a new moment.

Morning sessions of yoga which included workshop like tips and practices were followed by a delightful ocean view breakfast buffet. Then, a day at the beach, horseback riding, kayaking or a canopy tour, sometimes known as zip lining. A harness strapped around our hips, a cable stretching over the rain forest for as long as the eye can see, zipping over a valley that seems so far below. Legs up and off I go. I lean back as I choose to go as fast as possible, enjoying the surrender of effortless movement merging into nature, before landing at the platform revealed between the enormous leaves that seem to be on steroids. Really, all of nature is much greater here. From spiders, to butterflies, from leaves to trees, all seem to flourish on Mother Nature’s abundance. We hike from one platform to another, finding ourselves high up on hanging platforms deep within the rainforest. After 20 or so platforms we arrive safely back to enjoy deliciously sweet pineapples and bananas.

Early morning symphony of bird singing is as grand as any orchestra, with a deep drumming base of the howling monkeys, which at times sounds like roaring lions.
The sounds in Costa Rica are just as much of an experience as the sights. Especially up at Samasati, which was specifically architected to give the true nature feel of the rain forest. I saw monkeys, amazing butterflies, hummingbirds, and even toucans there. The simple and beautiful constructions of our bungalows from local wood, the morning juices from the fruit grown on the property, and the coffee, that even those with the most hedonistic taste would commend. Add to that the warmth of the local people working there, the views, and the good vibes, and you know this is as close to bliss as it gets.

We added our own tunes, with a night of Zen Dance as well as a night of Osho Kundalini Meditation. Finding freedom within our bodies, our minds, and dropping into the presence of love and group support, it was like watching flowers open up revealing their true color, every day shining with more radiance.

I sit here on my supportive hammock on my bungalow deck sipping in peace and content as the group heads back. I wish you all to follow your intentions, to take on your new clarities and practice them, so they keep shining through, and to share the gift of this experience with those that could not be with us.

With deep gratitude to Lauren my wife for her unparalleled support, to the amazing group that held the space for each other and was willing to open up, to Samasati for their hospitality, to the people and the land of Costa Rica for sharing the abundance and love with us.

We will be back!

Jerusalem Oct 2011

2011-10-12T13:39:00.000-07:00

Click on image to see the album

Worth Remembering

2011-05-03T07:54:00.000-07:00

”It is worth remembering, that it is much more disheartening to have to steal than to be stolen from” Boris Lermontov [to Julian Craster] in the movie: The Red Shoes, 1948.

When someone takes from us, it means we had something. We had something that could be taken away. You can practice anger and loss, or celebrate that you had it to begin with, did not need to take it from others, and even practice compassion towards the thief that needed it so badly, that they had to go and steel it.
You may lose and idea, a concept, money, jewelry or even a relationship. Celebrate it while you have it, and allow it to continue its flow in the universe, as it was never really yours to begin with.

May you know lots of generosity in your life!

Blissful Living,
Doron

PS. Ready to find more balance in your life? Join me at Esalen, May 27-29.
Sign up now with 2 friends, and you all receive 10% off!
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Are you real?

2011-03-31T13:52:00.000-07:00

This is a photo of my nieces Maya and Kayla. They are truly wonderful. Their genuine smiles and laughter,their joy for the little things in life, their appreciation of food... And they never pretend to like me, even when their mommy asks them to. They come to me when they want and laugh with me when they want to, they are themselves, and that is beautiful. They dress up and pretend when THEY want to, and not to be nice, but to celebrate life. Are you REAL?

Holy Cow! Happy Sankaranti!

2011-01-18T23:48:00.000-08:00

Happy Sankaranti!(Shankranti)

All the cows seemed to have vanished, the streets are quiet, few people around, its the Harvest Holiday, a new year. Much of the festivities take place in the fields or other wise in the homes, drinking Badam Milk (almond and cow milk) and eating Pongal a specialty dish for the holiday made of mushy grains and beans (Kitchari like) in two variations, sweet and spicy.

Efrat volunteers to take me to the cow area. Its not far from where I live, we walk passed the Mandala house where I study, cross double road, named thus since it has a big, black and yellow metal fence dividing it into two equals, and down the street I can already see a cow tied to the fence of a large park. Mysore has parks galore, some small and some large, most with walking paths and benches, coconut trees, lots of plants and a fence to guard it so that no one but humans can go in, part of Mysore’s charm.

We walk towards the cow that is painted yellow in all the spots that are not dark. To our left appears another street with three sheep, a young cow and a calf, all colored yellow. My lips stretch to my ears, a bit surreal, but then again India always is a bit like a movie set, with its own orderly chaos and plenty of dotted beauties, like Bindis on a young girls forehead.

After a while using my camera, I decided that today is a good day to stretch its buttons and twist its focus ring. It was a great feeling of liberty to just walk around without the need to capture, to hold on to the visuals in a permanent form (temporary permanence really), seeing at the present moment with nothing as a barrier between reality and me. Today is a holiday, and as part of the celebration all the cows are painted yellow, turmeric is the color, so it is all natural, healthy, anti-inflammatory and strength giving. It is a great day to share my love to this beautiful animal, in its beautified form of yellow and red painted horns, sometimes with sparkles, sometimes with an Ohm painted on its rear. The camera, when used as part of the celebration, as a means of communication rather that greed, can be an enhancer of reality. It was like that on my trip to Cuba where I only had a 24mm wide angel lens, forcing me to really make contact with the people, to be part of the photo without being in it, a project I started back when I took photos of my parents, creating a triangle of emotion with out me being visually in the frame. I now have a 24-105 zoom, but this still does not allow me to hide and reach far with my zoom to capture an unaware soul, I still am in the midst of life, and with digital even more so. The kids ran up to me and asked me to take photos of them with their cow, or of their little sister, or aunt eating in the window, and then they would want to look at my little screen, to see themselves appear like magic on my magic screen. Their eyes bright with joy, open hearted and wanting to share, their moms inviting us in to eat, “please, you come inside”, when I refused gently, they would run out with a little bag of sweets, like trick or treat, sharing their blessings. Stepping over cow poop, passing by dried cow dong drying on the wall as it will be used for fire later, another cow, being painted goats horns on its forehead with red and gold glitter, little girls dressed in their fanciest cloths, with beautiful dresses of bright colors, sequence and shiny materials offering translucent material covering their arms, lots of colorful shiny bangles singing along with their anklets as they walk. Kids dragged us from one street to the next, “come see my cow”, “this is my house, please come in”, “my uncle”, or any other declarations, wanting to share, feeling pride of connecting with us fortunate foreigners.

In the evening after walking around the lake and seeing the sunset, with the left shin hurting form all the walking, feeling tired, yet hydrated with fresh coconut water, Lauren, Efrat and myself, returned to the cow area, as at night they take the cows to jump over fire. Some of the afternoon kids find us and lead us around. We end up going into one of the homes, drinking some fresh Badam milk, and I mean fresh. The first floor hosts the cows and some sheep, we enter the door, skip the urine, leave our sandals below on the nice tiled steps but not too close to the sheep that want to chew on it, and go up stairs. Downstairs the lighting was tungsten yellow, pale, contrasted with the living room that shone with bright greenish neon lights turning neutral with the light yellow paint on the wall, mostly bare, as was the room apart from a TV and a few plastic chairs. Some huge metal pots containing fresh milk stood in the hallway, one of them being heated (to drink or to clean bacteria?). We are offered seats and some food. We get plates with yummy Pongal. Some hesitation as of for the raw milk from my friends, but I dive right into it, loving the idea of fresh raw milk, a slight after taste of grass.

Load music came from outside, ”dancing, dancing, please you come”, offered the young man that until now was just standing and watching us eat, as if it were a rare view (and maybe it was). We took to the balcony watching the young kids dancing in the street. Cows near by, cow poop on the side, a bright light illuminating so the one video camera in the neighborhood could document the beautiful kids with their marvelous outfits dancing some Bollywood moves. Before long we are down on the street shaking and moving as well, the girls really, I was still finishing my Badam milk, and holding my bit too large of a camera.

We continued along to see some fire hopping. It turns to be some burning hay on the street with a man dragging the cows though it. There sure was fire, yellow cows and even a man going through it, though maybe not so much of any big hopping. The cows went back and forth a few times, there was something really amazing about this, though the cows as holy as they are were not very respected of their own wills.

The cows are holy as long as they provide he precious milk. They are mostly not eaten, though secretly some, like my landlord will admit “it gives great strength to eat a cow, as long as you do not eat pigs, witch will turn you into an evil man.”

Mysore cows India, 2011

2011-01-16T20:19:00.000-08:00

Mysore India, Chamundi Hill, Nandi

2011-01-16T20:14:00.000-08:00

Mysore into the New Year

2011-01-03T23:27:00.000-08:00

Landing at 11:30am in Bangalore after three flights, immigration and luggage, then getting into a taxi for 3 hours more. A bit tiring, but considering how crazy Bangalore traffic is during the day, we were happy to be in a cool night (freezing really for what we were wearing), and ride smoothly to Mysore. Elena, my sweet Italian friend, put us up for the night. We just changed shifts. She wakes up at 2:15am to warm up her spine, before she goes to the Shala to practice; we got there at 3:30am, and crashed like babies.

We woke up as she returned from practice, had a fantastic breakfast, got filled up on some of the happenings in Mysore, and borrowed her scooter to go search for a place to stay as well as practice.

It was a big step to move from my comfort zone and friend circle of Gukulam, and dive into Lakshmi Puram, the older part of town, or sometimes known as the real Indian as it is not as wealthy and set up for the westerners coming to practice with Sharat. There are a few of BNS Iyengar (not to be confused with BKS Iyengar) students teaching around here, and they all teach Ashtanga similar to Pattabhi Jois. Since our new pad is right near the Mandala house, we decided to give Cidanada a try. On my last visit here, I practiced with Sheshadri in the same place, now he has grown to having his own shala. I was pleasantly surprised with Cidanada. Nice calm beginning with chanting between every sun salute, a small class with lots of attention, strong adjustments yet with lots of care. BNS Iyengar still teaches pranayama, philosophy and mudra, at the Mandala house, so I was very happy for the opportunity to study with this 85-year-old man, a student of Krishnamacharya, and a character indeed. Mostly shaved head, though it has stubble as if it is shaved only once a month, with a large patch of salt and pepper hair left on the back, a red line climbing from his third eye up on his forehead for a good inch and a half, and a thick white heavy textured elongated half circle encasing it from the bottom like a deep cup holding a red stem. He wears glasses and looks at you from above the glasses as they rest low on his nose. He wears the traditional white longhi wrapped around his waist with a long Indian style cream or white shirt, with three buttons and a small Chinese like color, with one pocket on the left side, hanging over his medium sized belly. He enters the shala with his faded turquoise three quarter helmet, takes off his worn flip-flops and moves about barefoot, in slow motion. He has a similar accent to the one I remember of Pattabhi Jois; Yeit – meaning eight and a bit of singing to his sentences.

After so many pranayama coursed I have taken I am still enjoying this one, as the study is very gradual, similar to the Mysore style, one completes a pose and gets the next one, also here, when completed with a pranayama exercise, one receives the next. And do not think of this as breathing exercise, “That is respiration” Iyengar would say, Pranayama has a whole different purpose. I look forward to sharing this in my classes and workshops ahead.
Mysore changes some, but what really is new every time, is the experiences, no matter how much the same a place may look, it never is the same, as the Indians would say “same same, little different”. Experiences are of India but also of meeting other travelers, people from around the world, observing their perspective of a new place, sharing a discussion about Israel, conflicts and finding peace, learning about the yoga scene around the world, or about life as a South Korean Zen monk. Meeting an Israeli couple traveling with their three and five year olds, finding an American in his 60’s that left the US behind and now lives here. It is the little stories, the endless firecrackers on New Years Eve, the father on his scooter stopping by to wish Happy New Year as his son smiles staring at my Keen sandals, The rickshaw that would not start, and had to be rolled down the hill, kicked into second and jump started, so it can roll us through the bumpy roads to Gokulam, to have lunch at Elena’s and friends. A young women in jeans and a pretty tight T shirt showing her healthy appetite around the waist holding her tan Labrador cub, sits on the ledge of the temple square near the market hiding behind her fathers small SUV, waiting for him to return from the market. I smile and pet her shiny fur dog, an older Indian man comes to play with the dog, but obviously knows he is not allowed to touch it, so just plays from afar, casts and hierarchies are still very visible. We engage in conversation about the need to work in Bangalore and what it means, the great city and it being so over populated, she is the new middle class generation; the ones we see coming out of really nice villas planted amongst the older homes and buildings. A daughter of a doctor I project.

At the restaurant, enjoying the Indian food, Dosas and Idlis, the Thali meals, we sit in front of a man and woman, she is wearing a sari, black hair oiled and pulled back tightly, wearing a big nose ring. Him, wearing western like polyester pants and a light color dress shirt, having red color spread with a finger up his forehead tells me the importance of eating with the hands “Food tastes better you see, feeling the food, there is a connection”. They are lawyers and come the Mahesh Prasad a lot, “it is the best restaurant in the area,” she tells me. We speak of tradition, of the great necklace she wears to show the world she is married, the toe rings a married woman wears to stimulate her uterus, and that she needs not do yoga since she still squats to wash cloths in the bucket, washes dishes by hand, climbs the stairs, and in general uses very little machines. “The traditional life style takes care of me,” she says with a big smile and shiny black eyes.

Life in Mysore has its own pace, and I am greatly enjoying it. Even though much of life here has beautiful picture moments, I did not take out my camera yet. Maybe because I have been here many times before, it now feels like home, and thus I just smile at these moments, taking them in, but not recording them in pixels.

The street, the flavors are all part of one big live canvas, the amazing papayas that don’t even need extra lime to make them taste good, the walk through the colorful market, the intense smell of incense and flowers threaded together as necklaces, sold on the street or worn as ornaments on the ladies’ hair, blended with intense sweat coming off a group of men in line to make photocopies, dust and rickshaw pollution, smiling faces nodding their head from side to side, greeting hello, the colorful saris wrapping full bodied women, the smell of spices riding up the steam of milk from the small tea cups, the fruit carts on the side of the streets, the back and yellow rickshaws waiting at every corner to take you to your desired destination, and the cows.

No wonder the cows are holy, they symbolize the patience and endurance of life here. They go about slowly, eating around all that they find, sometimes being touched for a blessing, sometimes hit to move out of the way, and they, in their very nonchalant way, just move about, never getting angry, not violent, just surrendering to what life has offered them, grazing on the fields in front of them with no aspiration to become a cow of the Alps.

Hoi An photos, Vietnam 2010

2010-12-25T01:59:00.000-08:00

Hoi An

2010-12-25T01:43:00.000-08:00

In the center on Vietnam, along the river, a short bike ride from the beach, lays this quaint town, with some French colonial influences of architecture and baguettes, an old quarter, a boardwalk along the river, some small temples with beautiful art featuring fantastic dragons, horses and paintings that seem to be influenced by Christianity.

The bridge that crosses between two old parts of town is lined up with lanterns, pedestrians, bike riders, scooters, overlooking the big wooden blue boats with eyes painted on their front, bringing them to life. Huge paper sculptures of a dragon, a fish jumping out of the water, a turtle and a lion float on the other side of the bridge, waiting patiently till nightfall to be illuminated and glow in their bright colors. Just behind them, crossing over a smaller offshoot of the river, is the Japanese bridge, covered with a strong roof and guarded by dogs on one side and monkeys on the other, symbolizing the years the bridge began and finished its construction.

This is the new undiscovered Ubud of Bali. With tons of wonderful cafes, great restaurants, amazing shopping, tailored suits, jackets, dresses and shirts, beautiful art galleries, massage spas and nail saloons, cool lounges Saigon style influenced by New York installed in a heritage homes from 200 years ago, calm streets in the old quarter that in the evenings are open only to pedestrians, while others have signs permitting primitive vehicles as well, a laid back feel, a friendly atmosphere, smiles and welcomes mixed with some ‘hello, where you from, come look my shop, please by something’…but not to a level of persistence sometimes known in India.

The area is flat, so bike riding is a treat, and within 10-15 minutes you could be on a beach with palm trees. Even the busy roads here are not too overwhelming, and mostly it feels just fine walking around anywhere. The place surely has been discovered as aside from the backpackers, many posh resorts are either up and shining, or under construction. There are some real beautiful beaches up towards Danag, the main big city north from here, and many of them are hidden behind walls, marking the territory of a to be exclusive resort.

I had my Pho as well as CaoLau, a Hoi An specialty noodle dish with lots of fresh greens, herbs and sprouts, had the wonderful local fresh spring rolls, with rice paper wrap rolled up over lots of veggies and sprouts slivered into thin match sticks, or the delicious green papaya salad, with roasted peanuts, shrimp, slivered carrots and freshly fried puffed rice crackers. Pizza, a dish a rarely eat back west, somehow appeared on my plate as a break from rice and noodles.

A day of walking, relaxing, editing photos, and a day of bike riding everywhere, a day of exploring little temples, the beautiful market with the pruned old ladies selling fresh vegetables along with tied legs white ducks, sitting quietly accepting their karma, or just too tired to fight, and an afternoon on a calming boat ride down the river.

On an early gray morning we mounted our 125cc Yamaha red and black scooter, and headed towards Marble Mountain. It has thin but relatively large wheels, a wanna be motorcycle, stuck on automatic. Full service at the gas station, good for employment. The road goes from narrow to wide as we pass a few funeral processions, and find large marble sculpture shops along the side of the road. Everything involves shopping, even parking the scooter; free parking if you ‘come look my shop later, no buy no problem, just looking.’

We climbed the steep stairs, bought lots of large incense to offer all the great statutes we will encounter. The first Buddha was grand and white set on the side of the cliff, and like many other temples, had a little pond in front with a great sculpture like limestone rock with some large Bonsai plants wrapping roots around it’s niches. Bonsai, the dwarf plants, are much larger and less delicate here, but have a different quality, of mini trees with large blossoms wrapping and warping similarly to the miniature Japanese ones. Pagodas set atop the rocky peaks offer great views, or semi great views as the coastline is spotted with more resort construction. It seems that there is no zoning, no area kept aside, at least from my limited view. Caves with beautiful large Buddha’s, little temples, a cave deep in the ground offers super tall ceilings with a few skylights, a Buddha set high up in the wall, and a temple that is receiving a new marble flooring. We sit and listen to a recoded prayer coming from a speaker off a tall bluish pagoda; bells mark ends of sutras, creating a melody.

The scooter takes us a long way to My Son (pronounced: mi son), a heritage Hindu temple area, a mini Anchor Watt if you will. We stop to get food on the way, no English, just a TV hanging with all generations glued to it watching soup operas. I walk to the kitchen and point to the dishes that look appealing. Saigon Beer with ice in my glass along the morning glory and garlic, the yummy broth with greens, rice, fresh sprouts and lettuce, and a plate of shrimp in a red sauce.

After the bike dying on the way, a sweet prayer of mine, and a resurrection, we arrive. Nature is beautiful and lush, the ruins are interesting and set in a peaceful environment. We enjoy our walk through the area, but would not make it here just for this. Traveling, like life is about the process; the lunch we had, the tea place we stopped at just before with the young girl in short yellow pants and a flirty smile serving us warm Vietnamese tea and cold Lipton tea with ginger without us even ordering, the scooters carrying more than the imagination can hold, the cows led by the farmers on the side of the road, the large water buffalo working the earth with the guide of a human, the one small tractor we found that was barely a frame with a hovering seat, and wheals that were actually the plowing tool, the friendly face pointing us in the right direction, the friendly and confused face pointing us in any direction just not to admit they do not understand, the old lady on the bicycle carrying loads of greens that seem to be floating in mid air with no support, the sun setting over rice fields with cone shaped hats glowing in her warmth, a family of four slowly on one small scooter, three girls in their beautiful traditional uniform, white tops, sheer with fabric all the way down their grey pants, cut into four sections, riding their bicycle one by the other, three boys in their simple uniform appear just a moment later, riding side by side, a girl riding behind her friend on the metal rack over the rear wheel places her feet beside her friends’ on the pedals as they move together sharing the load, some old homes sit quietly along the grand new fresh painted mansions, the breeze on the face, the helmet that flies off as I lift my head too high, and the sky spreading wide.

Traveling is about these little moments that are too many to write about, too often to stop and take pictures of; it is about the experience of life as it unfolds moment by moment. I am grateful to be part of this world, to share with humans across the globe their culture and tradition, their past and present. I find myself part of them, breathing their pain of past wars and living their dreams of a better tomorrow while sharing the flavors of their present joys.

Halong Bay, Vietnam 2010

2010-12-21T21:53:00.000-08:00

Halong Bay

2010-12-21T21:49:00.000-08:00

A sweet talkative young man named Tang (wrong spelling on purpose, but this is how you pronounce it), picks us up at the hotel, 160 km in 5 hours, with a pit stop and some rounds to pick up a few other guests, surprisingly enough a few from the US. It’s somewhat misty out there, giving the bay a spiritual feel of a Japanese painting, though in reality most of those paintings would sell far less than the same painting on a sunny day.

The boat is quite grand, dark wood, three levels, with a nice upper deck, and a Viking feel to it. A welcome drink, a break and the boat stops moving. Transfer to another boat and head towards a bay within the bay. We pass countless islands, all rising out of the water in dramatic cliffs, climbing high up as if they intended to be a play ground for climbers. Powerful rock with some vegetation on it, some are smaller some enormous. I have seen the like in Yangshu near Guilin in the Southeast of China, though here it is rising out of an endless sea. In south Thailand I have seen a huge monolith like this as well in the ocean, but not nearly as grand or extensive as here. The boat is smooth and calming, not too warm, not too cold. Nice fellow travelers include people from Singapore, India, Ireland, and the US. The boat docks, hop on to a smaller boat and climb up one of the small but very tall islands. Sorry, but now words will do justice to the view. I’ll try anyway. Steep stairs through vegetation, an opening, terrace like exposes the bay with its numerous island monoliths, twenty or so large wooden boats as if taken from a scene of a new movie pretending to be old, some smaller local faded wooden boats roaming around and vast skies. Endless sky.

Dinner on the boat, Karaoke that we did as a sing along as no one wanted to be Madonna or John Lennon, a moment of squid fishing close to midnight and sleep. Slept well on the boat.
After breakfast on the boat, we climbed into the “Amazing Cave”, which was really nice indeed, with stalagmites and stalactites, though the view from above was really what makes it fantastic. The rash cans were shaped as black and white dolphins or penguins. Now where did they get that idea? Did they ship the trashcans all the way from Iceland, or do they have a northern person design the cans around here? We shipped to another Island, part of the Cat Ba national park, where we mounted on bicycles with no gear and squeaking breaks, with a basket up front we head out, riding along the green water, surrounded by cliff rock walls, passing a Buddhist temple that is used twice a month to pray for rains, entering a big valley with more fish farms, along some rice fields and goats set to the background of the grand monoliths with the bushy green and mustard yellow, like receding hair on a curly big headed Yemen, entered a village and explored a bit of their daily life.

Next we went kayaking, through the beautiful chilli waters, passing by floating homes in between the islands, circling around some monoliths, going under a little arch connecting two islands, rested for a moment soaking it all in, the paddled powerfully, letting it all out, went for a swim in the cold water, dived head first from the boat, and dried out in the barely peaking sun.

Stayed on Cat Ba, a nice island with not much going for it at night, a good thing since there is less of harassment, strolled the concrete boardwalk, ate some ice cream and climbed to bed.

Last day is travel day, boats through the beautiful scenery, the grand rocks with floating homes in front of them, the small fish farms that look actually pretty good and natural, maybe I’ll be OK buying the farm raised shrimp from Vietnam at Trader Joe’s next time, water which obeys the rhythm of the wind, and dances slightly, rocking the boat like a good DJ, using someone else’s music to rock individuals moving by.

Hanoi, Vietnam 2010

2010-12-21T21:44:00.000-08:00

Hanoi

2010-12-15T17:21:00.000-08:00

Stopped by the tourist desk to ask about transportation to the city, and the beautiful Vietnamese woman speaking good English with a heavy accent, helped us book a wonderful hotel, a three day tour to Halong Bay, and a flight down to Danang. Life has just found some order after Bangkok chaos, and with the rainy foggy weather that welcomed us out side, we were very happy to have a nice comfy start. The taxi made its way to the French quarter, finding its’ way through the rain and the early darkness that fell on the city.

Super friendly staff, a beautiful room, a shower, some laundry, hand washed and a walk about town to get some food. After a lovely dinner of lots of veggies, the best variety on our trip so far, and some fish we strolled towards the night market. At least that’s what I thought, as it seemed that we were never getting there. Asked for help, but the man just offered to take us on his bicycle rickshaw. I felt bad having him drive us, yet I knew that if I walk away, I actually took an income away from him, so we sat on the nice slightly reclining metal framed seat, plastic covered silver cushions, facing the street in front of us. Imagine one of those royal seats, mounted on the front of the bike, covered on top, with the handle bar behind us, and the bike driver looking over our heads through our opened cage. He drove us about one hundred meters, to where we saw the night market bustle begin, hopped off and paid him for what should have been ten times longer of a ride. The market was not so amazing, but I really enjoyed it being a true locals market, a place where mostly locals walk around and get their clothes, accessories or imitations of Dolce Gabana shoes. A local artist was stringing wooden pieces, embedded with copper or aluminum designs, to a necklace. He was truly cute, with a charming smile. I could not resist but buy a whole bunch of necklaces from him.

A day of wondering through the streets; A local food market where fish, meat eggs, vegetables, fruit are all sold right on the street, barely even stands, in whatever way it works, just piled up on the side walk or from a basket. Beautiful produce, beautiful people. They just don’t want their photo taken, mostly that is. I think it was in China, back in the day where they thought that by taking their photo you are actually stealing their spirit. Is it true?

We walked along busy streets, scooters more than in Bangkok, like a swarm of bees, buzzing to find honey due, beeping, carrying another person or a whole family, a bicycle holding a fruit shop or flower shop, a delivery of Heineken beer, covering the scooter with the green boxes all around, and even with all the beeping and honking, it all seemed very calm and patient. The beeping was to notify the other person of their existence, or to tell them to move aside, but there was no angry tone. We walk down a French colonial street, facing a lake dotted with large swan shaped pedal boats, white and accents of pastel blue and pink contrasting the hazy day, we turn left as we see a huge lake across the street and enter a small temple with dragons, pass through a pretty gate, to see the courtyard dotted with teen age girls dressed in a white and blue uniform, the colors of the Israeli flag, the blue was a long blouse, going down all the way to the white pant length, but with a slit coming up above the hip bone, like two stripes of blue on the white flag. Down the street we pass the enormous French style president house, behind it humbly exists the stilt house, where Ho Chi Min used to reside, and further down the street, we enter a vast road closed to traffic, a grand grass square on one side and the HCM mausoleum on the other. We arrived right on time for the guard change. The white pressed uniforms, the exaggerated march and the peacock feeling of it all.

A pagoda, a museum, the temple of literature from 1070AD and the first university behind it established in 1076, with it’s five courts and some old decorations of dragons and flowers with very large bonsai like pots in the court, and a tea break; Lots of cafés everywhere, wonderful city really, even if a bit chaotic in the old quarter.

Bangkok 2

2010-12-15T17:15:00.000-08:00

A week went by, like a blur, like a tuk-tuk zooming through town, negotiating a price, the driver telling me that the Palace will open at 2pm as there is a ceremony for the king in the morning, and then taking us to a beautiful huge standing Buddha with a fantastic temple besides it, a place to release birds out of cages symbolizing the freedom of our souls (our minds in my interpretation). He waits patiently for us, and then takes us to another temple which is closed and as many big tourist shops as he can claiming they are some sort of special expo for the kings birthday, I know better, but let him earn some commission anyway, until I say firmly, enough!

Then we head over to the Grand Palace, which is grand indeed. Or maybe it’s the Royal Palace, and I just find it beautiful. I have been here before, and the major difference is the amount of tourists around. Last I was here, I could move about freely, take photos without any foreign head appearing at the bottom of my frame, but now it is packed, people everywhere. We found the wall paintings especially beautiful and intricate, fantastic stories of people and gods of masters and followers set amongst grand nature. Some of the figures are painted in gold, allowing for a beautiful contrast, reflecting daylight coming from under the awning. The temples are covered with layers of gold, carvings and statues; the roofs are impressive with frames of yellow, green and black ending stitched with corners that curve up towards the heavens holding some golden ornamentation. We hurried along to the reclining or sleeping Buddha as I had a teeth cleaning appointment later that evening. Impressive for it’s size mostly. Reminded me of art school when a friend made some huge prints that most of us never saw such a size before, it had a wow affect for it’s size.

Bangkok is a city of waves. Walking down the Khaosan road, with all the shops and stalls of T shirts, imitation Billabong pants, pirate music, jewelry, Havaianas flip flops which I surrendered and bought pink ones, imitation designer underwear with big names all over the waist band, corn on the cob grilled over charcoal, Pad thai with the option to chose from three different types of noodles as well as plain, with egg, or with chicken, foot massage for 30 min with beds rolling on to the street, fish massage where you put your feet in an aquarium full of fish, and surely signs for Thai massage, which I received on a parallel street. Some restaurants are hidden behind the stalls of dresses and Thai fisherman pants, guesthouses and a few banks and moneychangers, fruit stands, shake stands, dogs, a beggar, and big signs everywhere. This is beyond the tourists flooding the streets, the nicely dressed young men offering a tailored suit in 24 hours, women dressed in the northern Thailand traditional costume selling a variety of hand made crafts from bracelets to little wooden frog that as you roll a wooden stick on their dragooned back you get a cricket sound affect, which of course they do non stop, it’s really not very different than how I felt after walking around Vegas. In Vegas there were lights, and sounds of slot machines, but in both there was more stimulation than any human should receive in a lifetime, both offered lots of visual as well as sound and smell. In Vegas cigarettes and perfume, here, cigarettes, food and incense blended with ice.

Bangkok also has markets that are not flooded with tourists and can be charming. I spoke to a monk at one of them, while he was happy to pose in front of an array of Buddha sculptures. Monks in Orange were not uncommon, as well as people praying to Buddha, placing offerings in front of his sculptures, lighting incense and making donations. Buddha, from all I learned was just another human in search for happiness, or maybe a meaning for life, or just wanting to understand this cycle of suffering we live in. He had it all, money, food, pleasures, care takers, he was a prince living in a palace, but when he learned that that there are other states of living like, sickness and death, he decided to go and understand life, see what is beyond the walls of his sheltered life. He went backpacking if you will. He tried it all, from being ascetic to, a variety of spiritual paths, more food, less food, begging, or suffering more, but then he just stopped. Sat down and listened, dropped away, did not try so hard to achieve anything and there it was. He realized that he really had it all within him. Following the middle path, he could realize himself and thus liberate himself from suffering. He tried teaching this and even created some simple formulas, but in reality all he did was offer some tools and guidance of how one can find the realization, the liberation from suffering or enlightenment, on their own. Buddha taught freedom from the mind. Walking around Bangkok I am reminded of Christ and the Church. Just like Buddhism it seems that the interpretation of the simple beautiful teachings of beings that understood truth, has led to an established religion, a following and worshiping that no one asked for, turning teachings that require one to take responsibility for their actions and for finding their own healing, into a system where everything is put upon the dead teacher and a faith that by worshiping his image which most likely doesn’t even look like him will bring about freedom, success, love, fortune, rain, sun, children or any other human desire. Was it not to drop desires that both of these great masters taught. Why is it that humans attach so much to symbolism, to the cosmetics rather than the actual? Cosmetics have an important role, as well as rituals and liturgy, yet these are extra tools to help us find what we already have within, these are not a means to an end. Makeup may add a layer of beauty to a woman, but it could never beautify an ugly soul.

We had to stay longer in Bangkok as we discovered we needed to get Visas for Vietnam ahead of time. It turned out to be perfectly fine, as we have decided that we would rather stay in places longer and really feel them out rather than skip around, see a lot, but not fully experience every place. We did the tourist tour of the floating markets, and with no more expectations than a tourist trap, we actually enjoyed it. Seeing the bits of what it used to be like, the proficiency of the people on their boat, their balance and sense of efficiency, and of course trying new fruits, another spicy noodle soup and some fried sweets.

We went downtown to Siam center, walked through the gigantic MBK center, the craziest, largest mall I have been too, similar to Kauasan road but with AC and on nine levels, stopped buy a few other centers that had more of the real designer brands with real price tags as well and less crowds, I ate the spiciest soup of my life with a variety of wild mushrooms, and spent the fire with a chocolate doughnut. I bought amazing headphones that keep bringing a smile to my face as I listen to music; yes I had to admit to being a sound snob, with no attachment, I could stay with no music at all, but since I had the option to enjoy nice headphones (relatively of course), I decided to renounce my poverty state of mind and enjoy. Wondering down town, I sure got my fix for a big city.

We balanced it out with some quiet evenings in a healthy restaurant off a side street, sitting on cushions on the floor while drinking healthy juices and eating home made Tempeh, we got some foot massages that left us in a state of natural high, I got a Thai massage from a woman that found many sensitive pressure points, and proved that my body has not found enlightenment just yet. I enjoyed a balance of street stall food, along with some nicer restaurants, love having no phone, and yet happy to connect via the Internet often but not more than a few times a week. I guess I could not manage to keep it this way back home…

Bangkok - floating market

2010-12-14T08:40:00.000-08:00

Bangkok December 2010

2010-12-14T08:32:00.000-08:00

Bangkok - The Palace

2010-12-13T08:47:00.000-08:00

Bangkok - The king is 83

2010-12-09T08:34:00.000-08:00

Bangkok, The king turns 83 - Happy Birthday!

2010-12-07T05:32:00.000-08:00

“Take the shuttle train to town and then transfer to a taxi, it’s elevated, you’ll see some of the city and save a lot” recommended the local Thai man next to me on the plane. He told me stories of his hometown, why he would never visit the US; too far, homeland security (now how does he know of this?), visas and other hassles, so he went to Bali to show some culture and spirit to his nephew and niece. “There is much similar in the Buddhism and the Hinduism of Bali”, he said.

The train ride was smooth, clean and fast; at least as good as the Paris Metro, and apart from Hong Kong I think it’s one of the best. We descend from the elevated platform to street level, where taxis galore stop by, I show them the address of where we need to go, they look at it, contemplate a moment, then return me the paper and say no, shifting into first and drive away. At first I thought they are not sure where the place is they seemed to be thinking when looking at the address. It was written both in English and Thai, so should be easy to understand, but when a couple said “traffic, many traffic, king birthday today”, I remembered that December 5th is the kings birthday and we were going in the direction where the chaos was happening. A tuk-tuk stopped by us; it’s a three-wheeled open sides taxi. I figured if he’ll take us we’d go. We lounge into the low seats spread our legs forward on this super fast open rickshaw. The driver is young and cool, speaks better English than most of the taxi drivers we met. He tries to make some small talk, and makes sure we know to go to the party near the hotel. The woman behind the reception desk is wearing a dark navy suite with a white-collar shirt, wearing huge pink fluffy slippers with a Mickey Mouse face sculpted over the toes.

We dropped our stuff and headed out to join the celebration of the Kings Birthday. A few steps away I begin to see some food stalls and remember why I like Thailand. Big noodle soups, soups with an array veggies and meats, families sitting on plastic stools gathered around a round table with a big bowl of greens in the center. Some stalls were of the ‘make your own soup’ type, with a hot pot in the center, and the guests putting in it their choice of meat and vegetable. A seven eleven follows on the left, the first floor of a 5-6-story building, as the street opens up to a huge intersection. Grand I shall say. The whole area is lit up, never seen anything like this, all white lights pouring all over the boulevards. The huge intersection we stood at had enormous posters of the king. Billboards let’s say. We stood to take it in, took some photos that could not portray the magnitude of the scenery and the power of the quantity. And then came the silence. The grand boulevard was empty, every one was gathered on the sides, the king is coming, no photos please. We keep walking a bit towards a mini park to the side of the boulevard with tons of food stalls and lots of light displays. A light sculptures of hearts, increasing in size coming one out of the other, a big white boat with blue light colored waves, a small band playing in front of a huge light circle encompassing a photo of the king playing a mouth instrument (was it the sax?). A woman is arranging quail eggs on a large round cast iron plate with templates scooped out perfectly for the eggs. I watch her work with great attention. She is so precise, probably has put eggs in the little bowl shaped spaces a million times or more. I order my plate, maybe 8 little eggs scooped in it, pepper and some yummy spicy sauce. By the time I lift my head to check the boulevard, everyone is back on the street, the king has passed already. Well, this is the honest truth, I prefer the small workingman, and if there is food involved, I forget all royalty.

The rest of the walk through the millions of people (probably not much of an exaggeration) consisted of mostly checking out more food stalls and some people watching. The Thai have lots of style, fun style. They were mostly casual, of the NY, London, urban style hip, but not all big brands, colorful, accessories, and fun shoes, though most were surely walked in to the point of wearing out. Many were wearing pink, which I assumed had to do with the King’s Birthday.

I tried a soup that had rice noodles and lots of wild mushrooms, some sort of seaweed, and supposedly chicken, though I was happy I saw almost only mushrooms, black, oyster and some other unknown. I ordered Lauren the Pad Thai, rice noodles with veggies and peanuts.

Every intersection had a huge concrete structure with the top part a large circle containing a photo of the king from different periods of his life, framed with a ton of little shining lights. We reached the memorial intersection, and the fireworks that were only audio before, turned on their visual and filled the sky with beautiful colors, and fire rain of lights. The variety and quantity were at least as amazing as 4th of July in NY, and that is to say I was impressed. It went on for a long time. Everyone taking photos, from phone cameras, to smart phones, little digital cameras and an impressive amount of bigger SLR cameras, including tripods big flashes and all it takes to look like a professional. Except for the baseball cap.

We crossed the big circle walking through cars and scooters, busses and streams of people; there was an orderly chaos. It was an amazing feeling, more cars, bikes, tuk tuks and people together than I have ever seen, and yet it all flowed, slowly but calmly, there was patience and acceptance that this is it. The food stalls were infused with lots of kitschy stalls or just people selling stuff on the ground on a piece of cloth; wallets, belts, clothes, Zippo lighters, hair bands with two heart horns lit up in pink, other night party light items, candles, underwear, and the sugar candy, a girl waking by with super short pants, skewers of chicken beef and pork, fathers taking photos of their children in front of the altar for the king placed in front of the Mercedes dealership, skewers of squid, Thai sweets made on the spot, sweet corm mixed with condensed milk, teenage boys with hard worked hairstyles, and skateboarders’ shoes, a young couple passing by, her with an elegant dress, not flashy and some heals, him with a cool jeans and funky sneakers, a printed T, and a designer watch of an unknown brand, flip flops everywhere, some sandals, some cool sneakers, fruit cases of water melon, cantaloupe, green mango, and pineapple and again fireworks. As we make our way back, there is a whole second set of fire display lighting up the sky. Where does the darkness go when the light arrives?

Gili Trawangan, Lombuk, Indonesia, Nov 2010

2010-12-05T17:52:00.000-08:00

Gili Trawangan

2010-12-04T06:33:00.000-08:00

Wayan 2 (his nick name since every first born in Bali gets the name of Wayan) drives us from the Hyatt to Padang Bai, from a grand resort the size of a village, to a small village the size of a resort. Padang Bai is quaint, a bay with lots of traditional fishing boats, narrow boats carved out of a single tree with long bamboo floaters parallel to the boats to keep the boat from tipping, like arms extending out of the body. The boats are colorful, and people are moving at a slow pace. To one end is the ferry terminal, and beside it are the speedboats ready to take passengers to the Gili Islands and Lombok. Lombok is a big Island to the south east of Bali, it’s Muslim sister, with the Gili’s set as three flat islands dotted with palm trees, one after the other, Gili Air, Gili Manu, and Gili Trawangan, the one we were headed to.

Strolling aimlessly at Padang Bai, buying some purple taro chips, or at least this is what I imagined it to be, as whatever I asked the old, wrinkled smiley woman, her answer was a nod of approve. The only thing she really understood were fingers showing the price, 3 fingers meaning 3 thousand rupees. It’s about 9000 rupee per dollar, so once you start with items that cost more, it can get confusing. How much is this bracelet, 30 cents, 3 dollars or wait, maybe 30? In Israel before it got so confusing the Lira was changed to a Shekel and the Shekel transformed into the New Israeli Shekel, where 3 zeros were taken away. Since then the Shekel has not done so badly, no more new currency is introduced for now.

We went swimming at the Bloo Lagoon beach, beautiful water surrounded by lava cliffs almost forming a lagoon, with some cacti growing all over the cliffs around. Yes, those cacti in a small form that I imagine in Arizona or Israel, but hey, they were there, just at the edge of the lush vegetation.

Back to our room, I opened the munchies bag and consciously ate an Oreo tube of cookies. It’s been years, and now I know why. It did not take long till I was horizontal, and stayed that way till 4am. OK, so it’s not all due to Oreos, I surely was mentally in need of decompression after the tour, but the Oreos were a great catalyst.

Changing US dollars as the only ATM was not working and we were told there is no ATM on the Island, which later we found out that a brand new one was installed. A quick reminder that you get better rates for 100-dollar bills, 20’s don’t get you far.

The boat ride was fun and smooth, meeting two Finish girls backpacking, sharing with them some of our food, learning from them how Chaotic is Kuta, listening to some French two seats ahead, a group of Australian teenagers being all sexy at the back of the boat; every ride, every new place holds a whole new mini cosmos, with humans absolutely sure that this is all that exists. I wonder if the water splashing at the side of the speedboat has any feeling of separate identity from the ocean as it shines in the sun for a moment before it descends back into the great ocean, swallowed by the deep blue.

Approaching Gili, I sit on the top front of the boat, wind blowing my messy hair back, the sun finding my skin between the stubble, giving it a nice roast, as I watch the white sand and turquoise water grow larger. Water is too shallow, so we transfer to a smaller boat that takes us ashore. We step into the warm water, get our luggage and a small attack of locals approach us asking if we want a room. The transportation on the Island is by feet, bicycles or horse carriages.

Gorman and Denise form the yoga tour have decided to join us on this adventure. Gorman and Lauren stay behind with the luggage as Denise and I scout for a room.
We settle in, relax, eat, walk, and drop into beach life. We needed a second day to do some more of nothing, swim in their salt-water pool, snorkeling right in front of our two story cottage, snorkeling, seeing turtles, blow fish, reading and some yoga.
Finally we are ready for a glass bottom boat ride that will take us around the other two Gili Islands and snorkeling, corals, turtles and beautiful quiet beaches. Sweet group, lots of Canadians, 2 super dark skin locals, and me getting darker by the minute.

The following day we rented bicycles and rode all around the Island. Empty beaches spotted with some new upcoming resorts. The nice thing is that all that is being built is not completely on the beach, has mostly a local feel and blends in, but it will sure change the demographics. Gili T, started as a party island, and later families and couples joined in as well, as the parties are contained to a small area and specific days. We are here a bit off-season so there seem to be no big parties anyway.

There are veggie options, but it sure is a heaven for the fish and seafood lover, with lots of fresh grilled fish on the beach, the catch of the day. Dinner to candle light, or some kerosene lamps, there is wifi in some restaurants, some have quiet music, some play Kenny G for the tourists, and my favorite played assortment of Buddha Bar compilations.

We kept seeing the Finish girls, and saw them off to their boat to Kuta as we were heading to snorkel. On the snorkeling boat connected with a Canadian girl that joined our biking day, and on the boat back to Padang Bai, we met two sisters from Holland. Surely some of the travel experience is connecting with other travelers, hearing stories, and learning about their lives. On the chill out day, I spent two hours in the swimming pool walking around the shallow waters, discussing poetry, spirituality, Zen and Kabalah with a French poet.

Wayan 1 met us as we arrived back to Padang Bai. We visited a traditional Balinese village; a village that was kept separate from the outside as to promote the conservation of tradition. We saw hand weaving, egg painting, basket weaving and carvings, delicate and beautiful work with no hassle. We continued on a scenic drive up the mountains, rice fields, local carrying a variety of things on their heads, lots of roosters in cages getting ready for their battle, a flock of humans walking on the street on their way to a burial, a farmer walking his ducks along the side of the road using along pole with red feathers at the end to keep them together, valleys and hills, curves, and lava mines, temples every where, and people giving offerings all the time. Little banana leaves with some rice, incense and flowers, splashing some perfumed water as the place the offerings at every corner. In the temples, as well as their homes, businesses or simple on the street. When walking in Ubud, where we arrived later that night, one has to constantly watch their step as there are just about the same amount of free spots to walk on as there are covered with offerings.

Tomorrow we leave Bali, and if I had to summarize it in just a few words, they would include, smiles, friendliness, offerings, spirit, lush, beautiful beaches, temples, rice fields, snake skin fruit, and fresh juice. Of course there was much more, but to experience the full thing, join me on my next trip, maybe May 2011?

Bali Photos

2010-11-30T01:37:00.000-08:00

Bali part 2

2010-11-30T00:57:00.000-08:00

A speedboat took us to Menjangan, a national park known for its reef and coral beauty. Warm wind blowing my hair back Fonzy style, san the sleek, crystal blue water and the site of a huge volcano appearing above the clouds in front of us. takes us on this white and blue wooden boat to snorkel off the boat and off from shore. Swimming along the reef, with an amazing array of colors and shapes, both fish and corals, and some stinging mini jellyfish. After lunch on the beach we head back, I sit on the top front end of the boat loving the sun and the wind as the boats speeds ahead. We go towards some fishing boats and slow down a lot, as we see some tuna jumping out of the water, which means dolphins, are here too. I thought that what makes the tuna fatty, yummy and healthy is the fact that in order to survive in the cold water it has higher levels of fatty acids which allow it to keep moving and not freeze. If that is the case, what is it doing here in warm waters, and does it have less omega 3’s because of its ability to swim without it?

Sure enough, dolphins were there, one, two, wait, maybe ten, wow, too many to count! We saw large schools of them, just swimming leisurely as if the Internet was never invented. No worries about real estate or even being on time for yoga, just swimming through life, opening their mouths and swallowing tuna whole. What a day. We were like little kids jumping from one side of the boat to the other, following more dolphins, full of excitement and delight!

A long drive back to Ubud, maybe too long, I am ready to see it. Trying to stay present, I still found myself having an image of what it would be like. A town, not too big, no high rises, lots of shops, a cool market, tons of restaurants, some nice hotels, but none huge and overwhelming. Ubud has its touristic side, yet it has charm. Massages for ten to twenty dollars, “Kafe”, that served amazing lemon ginger tea, or lemongrass, ginger with Indonesian leaves along a raw black current cashew cake, art galleries (or shops), lots of crafts, wood carvings, boutique clothing stores, a yoga store, and lets not forget the monkey forest. We arranged for a temple tour seeing the elephant temple as well as another great temple, beautiful sculptures everywhere.

I entered the Zen massage place, and enjoyed the soft music. I was led through a tunnel, walking of stepping stones set amidst a flow of water, entered my room with hand painted rice fields on the wall, got undressed and lay on the massage table covered with a sheet. The little Balinese woman came in, and moved her hands along my body, first over the sheet, and then with lots of oil, rubbing my body. Next came the spice rub, cinnamon, cloves or other spices were mixed and spread on my skin. She left the room, allowing me to feel abandoned, wanting more hands on as I wait. She returned to spread the dried spice mix a bit further, and then added a freezing cold layer of yogurt on top. I became a whole meal. When she finished one side, I flipped and received the same treatment on the other side. Then she told me to shower. I waited for a second, but she encouraged me to get up. It was funny, it’s almost as if I forgot I was naked. I was showering as she as cleaning the massage table. “You take bath twenty minutes, you drink tea, eat fruit and finish, OK?” Ok I replied. So easy to be obedient to some one demanding me to relax and enjoy.

I bought some Yoga clothes at a cool local shop, spent a few hours there contemplating importing some goods back to the US, even created a whole business plan for it. We ate at Clear Water, which was absolutely awesome. Live bamboo separated the fantastic modern meets local Bali style restaurant, in a way similar but different to the Buddha bar in Paris, amazing detail, great music, wonderful food and reasonable prices. The food was exactly what I love, from a plate of Middle Eastern dips with raw flax seed crackers and some pita crisps, through tofu sachets in yummy peanut sauce, dragon bowl similar to the one in Manhattan, tuna with black pepper along wit a side of wasabi mashed potatoes, and delicious raw chocolate coffee cake or lemon strawberry cake for dessert.

From Ubud we head to Sanur to the Hyatt, hosting a huge complex with lots of pools, a long stretch of beach, and a few restaurants. This was our last stop with the group. I had a wonderful time with them, and felt a great connection. Like all my retreats, the people and my interactions with them, the sharing’s are what make the trip a highlight. We had some bumps relating to the organizing part of the tour, which I was not in charge of. It was hard for me to not be completely in charge, trusting someone else with such a large part of the trip, but a great learning experience, and I am truly grateful for the support, patience and trust of my students.

As I write this from the beach on the Gili Island, I have now created the perfect itinerary for the next one, scouting and figuring out every detail, as Lauren says “ When Doron plans something himself, he has it down to a T.” This phrase does not make sense to me, but I like it. Off to connect to the slow Internet with lots of gratitude, as I still remember sending a handful of letters instead of this easy blog.

Field Trip to Bali

2010-11-23T00:53:00.000-08:00

The cool kids sat at the end of the bus. That’s how it was when we would go on field trips in high school. It was complete chaos, but there was excitement in the air.

This trip, everyone is far beyond high school, and it seems as if everyone is equally cool. There are eighteen of us, including an American trip organizer, a Balinese guide, a driver, and the rest of the yoga practitioners.

The airport was the first delight with great sculptures everywhere, many depicting Hindu Gods. A brand new Suzuki van with no seat belts takes us up the mountains as we head towards Munduk,, as the sun was setting over the two lakes.

Marigold necklaces are draped over our necks, as greeting smiles flower around. Water fountains, lotus ponds, and lush vegetation with beautiful flowers are abundant. The cottage is set up on stilts with a dark wooden balcony, over looking the little pond below hosting calm fish unaware of the expansive rice field’s just meters behind them.

Dinner consisted of a vegetarian sampling. Skewers of tofu in a Balinese sauce, tempeh in something like a BBQ sauce, cabbage in peanut sauce, a sort of latke, and Chrysanthemum tea. Every meal is shared with some other friends from the group, exploring diversity of life experiences, listening to stories, and enjoying others on chill mode. The rice terraces on the hills across from us have heard it all by now.

The next day we explored the property, walking through little temples, rice fields, spice plants, ponds, statues everywhere, and magnificent views of the mountains and villages around. What really makes it wonderful are the details, the smile of a passer-by, the gold fish in the pond, the bamboo mini bridge, the beautiful red flowers draping off huge semi translucent bright green leaves, the sounds of water flowing through streams and in and out of ponds.

We adventured off property and let destiny take our feet through the jungle, passing homes with bird cages holding quiet pretty blue birds, vanilla beans for sale off of someone’s front yard, coffee beans laid down to dry, wandering dogs, and mopeds everywhere. Everyone from young to old is on a moped. All Japanese made.

We took a trip to a coffee and spice plantation and sampled some fox shit coffee. It’s not really a fox, but looks similar. The fox goes out at night, searching for the best coffee beans, it is a very picky animal. It eats the coffee bean, digesting only the skin, and then poops out the bean. Since the fox is so picky this is considered the best bean one can find. We had to try it once, as Wayan our guide told us, “Try it once and that’s it, you don’t want to drink shit twice!” This coffee is sold for $500 in Japan.

After morning yoga and breakfast we head to the beach. We arrive in Pemuteran, at the magnificent resort of Taman Sari Bali Cottages, and really, I would call it no name except the experience of bliss.

What can I say? Heaven is here. I would stay here for a month without blinking. Beautiful grass dotted with flowers, sculptures and Japanese like lanterns. Our room has an amazing outdoor shower surrounded by pebbles, with a huge marble floored porch, a step from the little pond that flows as a stream between the rooms, gold fish, a sculpture fountain, and perfectly organized vegetation surround it. Large Indonesian wood furniture with blue cushions decorated with butterflies sewn on it. The awning is made of perfectly tight tied palm leaves. I’ll stop here as I feel like nothing would portray the amazingness of this place. I tried to take photos but even they do not do justice. The swimming pool by the ocean is wonderful and warm. Everywhere you look there are sculptures or statues, amazing vegetation and water streams.

Off to teach the afternoon session, a Dharma talk, presenting my path, the relationship of Yoga and Zen – Zoga! Stay tuned more coming soon…

Love, D

The original sin

2010-10-25T20:40:00.000-07:00

She ran towards me naked, wearing a big smile and her crocks. Why not barefoot on the grass I thought? Maybe to make sure her feet don’t get dirty or that she doesn’t step on anything? There was a sense of freedom in her movement. She was liberated and joyful. I heard my name come out of her sweet perfectly created lips. I love the feel of the earth under my feet. Connecting with the energy of the earth, I stepped into the Jacuzzi and she followed, barely making it over, even though she is relatively tall for a three year old.

I recently attended a Baptism class. For the fist time in my life I am honored with the title Godfather. It is not so common in Israel, but since my Goddaughter is Catholic and lives in the bay area, it’s a different story.

“It is with this water that we wash away the original sin’”, explained the priest. He started with describing the temptation of the fruit that was forbidden, and how that led to the awareness of the man and the woman of their being naked.
“God called for man and woman, ‘where are you?’
‘We are hiding’, they replied.
‘And why are you hiding?’ asked God
‘Because we are naked’
‘And how do you know you are naked? Ahh, you must have eaten from the tree’”.

The priest gave us the story in a very easy to understand way. We sat there on simple chairs, a few parents with their babies and a few Godparents to be.
“By washing their original sin, they will be able to go up straight to heaven.”
Oops I thought. Not good being Jewish, I still am wearing that original sin, yet I feel very comfortable naked and love bathing at the Esalen hot springs with only my skin on.

After seeing my niece running so freely naked, completely careless of needing to hide anything, I wonder. Who is it that brings on us the original sin? When is it that Maya will realize that she needs to cover up?
Are we able to relieve ourselves from some of the conditioning we carry and find the liberty of life?

Becoming a citizen

2010-10-19T08:25:00.000-07:00

I am officially a member of a political group titled the United States of America.

Just the title: Unites States makes me think…

And the United we stand…

All this unity is a unity of us vs. them. Not a complete unity of all there is.

For years I was waiting to feel welcomed in this country. I moved from a status of a tourist to a status of an extraordinary talent. That title did not keep me from being interrogated every time I passed passport control. Becoming a permanent resident was a huge deal, mostly in forgetting the past. Once I had the green card there was a sense of calmness that came with it, even security. At least I was not going to be thrown away. But now I am IN, I am officially an American; I can choose to say Nationality Israeli or American. Depending on where I am, and which of the two is more disliked. A Canadian passport would probably be more welcomed in some countries. Now when will I be able to walk around with my World Human passport; the passport that declares me as a human being, without any further group belonging, separation of me vs. others, A passport that contains only important info regarding the safety of the country I visit.

The Naturalization ceremony took place in a huge theater. There were hundreds of people listening to some encouraging words, allowing us to feel welcomed and connected to the club. I felt like joining the army. I am here to serve, to protect, and to give up my loyalty to any other nation. Patriotism always scared me. “It’s a good day to die for our country”, said one famous Israeli fighter. And I think it’s a great day to live. Period. Not for a country or for anyone, but just live. When time to die comes, it would be a fine day as well, but not for any country, dying for a country most likely means dying fighting against others.

Then came the moment where a name of country was announced and those from that nationality (or ex nationality) would stand up. So many countries, so many people, now I felt my stomach moving, this is the union, the connection of so many people together. “China” was called, and a huge group came to stand, small countries from Africa, Ethiopia was called, India, and again another huge group comes to stand, Israel, I stand up, I saw another young man stand, tears came to my eyes, not even sure why, but I started feeling the “united we stand”, of how I wish we were all doing this to become members of the universe, a place where all are welcomed to join as long as their intention to be good to themselves and others were sincere.

I now hold an American passport, and for the first time in my life wrote “American’ on the entry document to Mexico. Am I different, has my identity changed? Does it change who I am?

I am grateful to have freedom in this country and wish all humans to have freedom wherever they are, inner freedom as well as freedom related to their society.

Haramara Mexico Retreat - The Road to Freedom

2010-10-07T16:05:00.000-07:00

Walking out of the airport the heat and humidity shower over me, greeting me with some tropical love of last days of the rainy season.

An hour to pass while we wait for a fellow yogini to arrive, what could be better that getting some local flavor. The fish taco place is right across the peeling yellow paint of the metal bridge. The place is like a garage with doors fully open and a wide open welcoming, accompanied by some friendly waiters.

The restaurant is dark even though there are no doors, the old paint on the walls covered with lots of black and white photos of proud fishermen with swordfish as their prize, a TV showing a soccer match with all the waiters looking up at the little figures running around on a semi green grass, after the black and white ball. Time is slower here, and no one seems to be in a rush, but neither are we, so we enjoy the new atmosphere. The waiters were very aware of whatever need we might have, which later, we would find more of, at Haramara. I had a feeling that they really cared, took their position of being in service with utmost respect. When teaching a yoga class I always enter with the same intention. Like an eagle from above, seeing who might need help, what verbal cue may I offer to hint the person in the back to adjust slightly, what gentle touch can I offer to better the experience of the student.

Wiping off constant sweat, I finish the last bite of the finely grilled fish in its wonderful subtle spice sauce.

Returning to the airport, yogini girl’s flight is delayed another hour or so, so we head to the bar to get our first cerveza in Mexico. Well, in reality it was the only one I had, but more than anything it gave a feeling of celebration. At times it is not about what I do, but the intention and how often I do it that springs a sense of celebration. Even the most amazing thing done all the time, over and over again, can lose its charm. Here comes the practice of celebrating the mundane, the every day life, as if anything we do is sacred, a ceremony, as if every time is the first time.

The mini van that took us an hour drive north to Haramara was an American SUV with powerful air conditioning and a mighty driver. It will be a whole week till we step again into the space of controlled weather. Traffic slows down as the bridge we need to cross has collapsed into the river, surrendering to the power of the heavy rains coming down just shortly before our arrival. We shared lanes with the newer bridge, and felt what it was like in the days when there was only one bridge. It is amazing how hard it is to go backwards, to lose comforts that are already gained. If I never had running water, and all I knew was going to the well outside to fetch it, than that would be my life, but if for some months I have the luxury of a tap in my home, then returning to what I had for a much longer time frame would be a total hardship. Same with having a better freeway, and then having it collapse. Nothing lasts forever.

The adventurous driver took us through the shoulders, around road barriers and an inch from a bus, testing the conditioning we have of what proper driving might be. The last bit of road was where the SUV needed to prove itself over mud and some very uneven terrain. When leaving Haramara we would not even recognize the road, as it will be so dry and smooth.

Haramara is built in such a way that that the jungle still gets to rule. Casitas (little bungalows or huts) are planted here in there within the jungle. Since they have large open facades, they are placed away from each other allowing for privacy.

The Jungle at the end of the rainy season intensifies the experience of nature; thousands of colorful crabs would run off the trails as we passed by, flying creators that looked like they came right out of Star Wars would hover in front of me, sending me telepathic messages, neon green grasshoppers resting by my mat, amazing butterflies accompanying me through my walks, and the sounds of fantastic singing birds filling the air as we meditated.

Haramara is built on the mountain slope with the yoga pavilion sitting high up overlooking the jungle and ocean, the beach, dramatic and powerful, with beautiful rocks, and expressive waves.

We started every morning at 7am, dark outside with a weaning moon. Candles lit the pavilion as meditated. During our practice the rising light began to shine and reveal the beauty of the jungle and ocean. Do the trees care if it is dark outside?

Longer yoga practices on retreats are such a delight. I find the 100 minute classes work so much better for me that 90. I could even be greedy and ask for 105.

I surrendered some of my control to Lauren that taught some classes and Kristen that offered us luscious Thai Yoga Massage sessions. It felt good to be a student while a teacher.

The dining room like all the structures combined natural elements with a clean design and a local feel. A large palm leaf roof covered the dining area; a wooden and marble floor support the tables made of wood and leather. Kerosene lamps lit everywhere as the sun was setting between the palm trees over the ocean.

Specialty tortilla chips and jicama juliennes were tools to lift amazing dips. Every night a different bright color would arrive. At first I heard ketchup and mustard from some guests, but soon we found out that it was beets and carrots. The food was creative and delicious, and the best part of it all was getting to know the people. It is such a unique way to learn about different people, their life and heritage, their views and stories. Before long we have created our own stories and toward the end of the week we have had our own past and inside jokes.

The week went by very quickly, leaving a paradise behind, a feeling of love and bliss from the practices and new found friends, bringing a better us to share with the world.

Internal clean up / The art for forgiveness

2010-09-18T18:34:00.000-07:00

I sit with my eyes closed, and bring to my attention relationships, old and new. I observe what comes up. Sometimes it’s just a simple encounter I had with a person I didn’t even know, such as while driving; they wanted to get into my lane, but I was in a hurry and didn’t let them in. I realize that I still carry this with me, maybe I still feel bad about it, I am not sure, but it came up. So today I clean up. I say I apologize with my full intention and let it go. Learning my lesson to be more generous next time, I smile with gratitude at this lesson and move on.

Maybe there are relationships with people that come up that have a greater significance to you, a partner, parent, sibling or friend. You know if there were certain things left unclear. Maybe it’s just a gut feeling, or maybe it just feels that there is something always present underneath when we meet them. Begin by setting an intention in the mind and then go take action. Even if it is a year old, it is never too late to send a note, give a call or best of all say it in person.

Be honest, it might be that they are still hurt from something you said five years ago, but you keep to your self as you “know” you were right, and are waiting for them to take action. It’s not about calculating who was right, not about bringing back old frictions, but about being intelligent, kind and compassionate, maybe even being selfish. You need to clean this out of your head; it will do you and them good. Just imagine that feeling of lightness, of clarity that will come in instead. Wear a smile, bring flowers if needed, bake some healthy morning glory muffins, and off you go.

In the Jewish tradition there is a Day of Atonement (Yum Kippur). Once a year, people wear white, go to temple, and ask forgiveness. You don’t need to wait for a special day. It does not have to be spring for cleaning. Do this periodically, every time you find something comes up, and remember, It’s not about being right, it’s about moving on, showing you power through surrendering, with no need to prove anything. Peace is up to you and me in our little actions.

Vancouver

2010-08-30T20:05:00.000-07:00

The ship approached the city, and I could already see the skyscrapers. Sitting on the 14th floor buffet deck, with huge glass all around, it as surreal to move slowly into the dock. I stayed still as the ship moved from isolated nature into a big city hub. After all this nature it was a bit of a surprise. As if I expected another small Alaskan town, with wooden buildings and gift shops. Instead Glass and steal stood proud. Buildings were Beautiful, with lots of interesting architecture. The buildings were not too crowded and had their share of greenery.

We stayed in the downtown area, felt like being back to NY, just much cleaner and with extra green. People were nicely dressed, girls were feminine with style, not anything too avanguard, but with care. I think I’ve been too used to the casual bay area, to flip flops and shorts. I was pleased for the change, enjoying some fashion in the air, a combination of the US with Europe.

We walked to Stanley Park, the central park of Vancouver, and enjoyed the park surrounded by water, views of the green “golden gate wanna be” bridge and a totem park. I seem to have a fascination with the totem poles. I love woodwork, the animal figures, the tall and thin structures, and wings. Something about their simplicity, a sense of power carved out of a tree trunk.

English bay was a long stretch of beach with some grassy areas along it, people getting some sun, chatting, having a picnic, or like us, just people watching. Still comparing to NY, I thought of Battery Park on the weekend, just that this was a Monday! I guess it was sunny enough that it was a reason to declare holiday. We loved the sun, but in reality it was 21c, and that was one of the warmest days in the year. If only there were more of these days a year, I would really consider moving up there.

We strolled down Robson Street, and felt a bit like in the Soho. OK, I do prefer the Soho in NY by far, but it was a good wash for the eyes. Stores, boutiques and people excited about their shopping. Bought nothing, but enjoyed being the observer.
Vancouver is filled with great restaurants, and in the eve we were delighted to dine at a fusion tapas place. The tapas were like a mini buffet; I still got a variety of tastes all served to the table, in fun trio platters.

The next day we went to Granville. We took it easy, acted like locals, shopped at the market, ate over the water, wondered the shops and streets, and listened to some of the street performers. We saw the classic Chinese garden in China town; the garden allows me to surrender. I love the style. No flowers, lots of rocks, trees, like ginkgo, pine and maple, and architecture that blend in as part of the grand scheme. Not huge, but everything has its place, all blends into one harmony of yin and yang.
Chine town is always a place I like to pass through, if only to get a good meal. Some sticky rice cakes filled with black bean paste arrive steaming out of the bamboo steamers, round and sturdy. A great rice noodle soup with veggies and a real dark thick soy sauce, such a difference from the Japanese version. The flavor is rich and consistency is syrupy.

We stroll down Gastown, along the cobble stone streets, shops are cool, and it’s where the town started, probably not as cool back then, but truly lovely these days; flowers over old lampposts, a steam clock, and tourists. What can you do? We all want to find the quaint spots of town. The view from the look out tower down the road was nice, getting an eagle view of the city towards sunset, to complete the day. The next day we visited the Vancouver Gallery and saw some local art as well as some modern art, bringing me back the itch to create.

Vancouver is a fantastic city, and the people seemed to be very kind and nice. Worth the visit!

Princess Alaska Cruise down the Inside Passage

2010-08-29T21:42:00.000-07:00

Alaska,

Our first encounter with Alaska was the sweet Taxi driver that picked us up at the Anchorage airport. He did not have much hair on his head, but did have facial hair, a beard. Soon we would notice that many people around here have facial hair, well, the men, that is, especially mustaches. He gave us lots of info on where to go. Start with 4th Ave, its like the old town, with some bars, lots of fur shops, some gift shops, and other stores that sold huge boots and super thick socks, a weird feeling of being in a cold wild west.

This trip was with my Mom Sara, her relatively new boyfriend, Shalom that I met for the first time and Lauren. Hmmm, my Mom with another man, also the first time for me.

We walked through the Weekend market, where more furs and animal skins appeared. The claws of the wolf, reaching the floor, its teeth showing, eyes in place, just the meat missing. I do hope someone enjoyed the other parts as well. The antlers of other animals turned into sculptures, mostly eagle like, some more fur coats and lots of Alaska T shirts and caps, along side the famous Ulu knives, crescent in shape with a wooden handle. Very alluring, some even came with specific cutting boards. We did buy one later on in Ketchikan, but had to give it away as I completely forgot it was in my carry on.” I will dispose of it for you at no charge” said the security man at the airport, making sure I fell like he is doing me a favor…

Food, well, that is always one of the first things I explore, it does reveal much about the place, people and culture. Fish and seafood was for sure what I was looking for.
At the markets there were lots of deep fried fish, with some fried onion rings and some more deep fried fish, and a few fish chowders as well. Meet was abundant as well, including Elk and Reindeer. We found a restaurant that seemed busy and ordered. A big crab salad with hard-boiled eggs, cucumbers and actual real mixed greens, a big portion of Salmon with some boiled potatoes. Food was good, felt fresh. I did not seem to wonder if the crab was imitation or not. I had a feeling I will not suffer from lack of omega 3 on this trip. Around us we saw lots and lots of crab legs, huge plates. Even the few that ordered steaks got steaks that were a much larger size that I have seen before. No doubt that animals are the main sustenance in this part of the world.

The museum of Anchorage was a delight. Beautifully done, with lots of info on how the natives lived and live here. Too bad it takes so long to realize how much the new comers did to destroy and change the locals as they took over the land, and finally to try and restore some of the original cultural beauty that was here. The resilience of the people sure kept amazing me, how they managed to live here for so many generations, under such extreme weather conditions, before all the new technologies arrived. So much of survival was dependent on community. The more technology advanced the more communities, and personal encounters seem to vanish. Communities turn into online friendships. Now that I have over 800 friends on facebook, does it mean that I have a great community life? Or is my community, my computer and myself? Will my community help me when needed, can I ask for a hug?

After the museum we took the coach to Whittier where the grand ship awaited. It seemed huge to me, even though I was told it’s not the biggest one out there; 2300 passengers and 800 crew members. We pass a passport control and then on to the ship. 14 or even 16 levels if you count the upper decks. Maybe more down below that as a guest I had no access too. Elevators, dining rooms, casino, shops, theater, bars…can you tell I was shocked? That it is my first time?

We sailed off (with no sails) in the afternoon.
The cruise was a delight. No cell phones, I checked email only once, constant food, a little gym, grand amusement, which was pretty good with lots of fun dancers and music, movies, sushi and desert buffets, tons of Alaskan food, (fish that is), and all this is before we even got off the ship to explore.
Maybe because this was an Alaskan cruise I loved it so much. The crowd was mostly older, a few teens, but not many children or people in their twenties. That led to a relative quiet journey. Lots of time to sit in front of the floor to ceiling glass right over the ocean, walks around the open deck on the 7th level, and even shows that involved a bit more music from the 60-80’s…(hmm, starting to feel old). Don’t get me wrong, I was totally up for a super amazing dance party with some house and trance, and I love people in their twenties, but it was still nice to be on a ship where it was not all about getting drunk, and that the atmosphere was pretty calm and smooth.

The cruise was going through the Inside Passage, a passage of water that goes between the main land and huge long islands, absolutely magnificent. Even when we were just on our way to places, we passed along the vast ocean, nice mountains, and lots of snowy peaks, glaciers, sunsets, and forests.

We stopped at Glacier Bay, to see huge bluish glaciers pretty close, learned about their formation and saw maps of what it was like before. Global warming is real! We continued to Skagway, a little town that inflates dramatically in the summer. We got to understand the White Pass, learn a lot about the gold rush days (that were actually very short lived in this area), see a black bear (cinnamon really), and amazing nature. Water falls, streams that change their color according to the source of the water (glacier or spring water), a one sided hanging bridge to allow the other side to move as the earth moves, and watch the picturesque train ride along the mountain, seemingly a toy train.

Juneau, the capital was a much bigger town, but still small enough to wonder around by foot. We went on a whale watching tour after my mom insisted, “Shalom really wants to see whales”. It is true; we did not see that many whales or adventurous wild life from the huge boat. Mostly we saw it when taking excursions. We were fortunate enough to enjoy seeing these magnificent creatures in the wild.

In Ketchikan we wondered though the famous creek road, saw lots of totem poles, and enjoyed seeing enormous amounts of Salmons everywhere (swimming that is).
Really I want to mention again the food on the boat, as it was such a big part of the cruise. The buffet was so abundant and so rich with options that it’s just hard to return to normal life. The formal dining room was a 5 star level, amazing food, but of course less options. I love giving options in my yoga class and love options in my food.

We concluded our trip in Vancouver, and I’ll save that for my next entry.

Hope you enjoyed the cruise and please join us again on the Island princess where the food is awesome and the dancers a delight.

posts on my website

2010-04-02T15:46:00.000-07:00

Beyond the Blog entries you find here, you can find articles related to food yoga,health and philosophy on my website www.doronhanoch.com under the Articles link. Feel free to check it out and sign up to my newsletter.
Love, Doron

My life since 2009 in brief

2010-02-02T13:24:00.000-08:00

It has been long, way too long since I took the pen to write down my happenings. Maybe it was happening too fast, maybe it was the sense of domestication that left me no adventure to write even thou my life was surely full of news and local adventures.

Last I wrote about my personal life it was about my early experiences living in Palo Alto and teaching Ashtanga Mysore style yoga. The 3 months planned for me, turned into six. Summer here was fantastic. I spend much time reading out in my garden, teaching and practicing yoga. I was cooking a lot, but had little social encounters. It was like living in a cave within the great forest of modern life.

Since March my biggest encounter was with Kate that shared with me a great deal of time, love and philosophical discussions. I balanced our great talks with some Harry potter reading (got through the fourth book). Beyond my close family of Gil Debbie and Maya, she has been ears and eyes to the simple living of my soul.

Summer ended with leading a retreat to Esalen and then a trip to Israel. The Esalen retreat is a lot of work, but grants me satisfaction and learning beyond measure. My time in Israel as usual has a sense of nostalgic love, like reconnecting with an ex girlfriend for a period even though we know it will not last. When connecting with friends in Israel. It feels like we have just met a few days ago. Indeed much changes, but the core care and spirit of joyful connection never fades away.

As I returned to Palo Alto, opportunities opened up, and I took on some teaching adventures. I found myself skipping from studio to studio, teaching yoga. Accepting that I now live in CA, I have surrendered to buying a car. Mazda 3 hatchback fit my profile, dark grey or silver of course. I found a splendid dark grey with pumpkin orange leather seats to match. I smile every time I enter the car.

My passion for dance has continued and apart from Dancing 5 rhythms in Mountain View every Monday, I have given birth to Zen Dance; a beautiful space for self-exploration of body and beyond, of movement leading into the stillness of mind in meditation.

My initial sense of joy and gratitude towards all that came my way was tainted with some loneliness. Before long, Lauren came into my life. After one month of finding out that she surely is not for me, tables have turned and in no time she was staying with me regularly. So much so that for Christmas I flew down to meet part of her family and since then she has moved in. My urge to walk away and find my quiet solitude space for my continued self-development has overcome with a self of commitment to another being. Not only has Lauren moved in, and I was not about to let her find a place a month later, but I have discovered a partner, someone that is willing to join my journey and live life as oddly as it may get in the venture to find truth. I am full of gratitude for Lauren’s transformation and willingness to join in. I find that not only do we dive deeper into a commitment to live a life of complete meaning and truth, but we have also found endless laugh out loud moments. It is the life of a happy baby with a developed conscience we have taken on.

January 2010 has arrived, and with it another retreat to Esalen. No doubt I have found my calling. My life as a teacher has never been more rewarding. It has demanded of me to set an example even more so than ever before. The more I live the life I teach, the better my life becomes and the better my teachings are.

I am grateful for all those that walk with me this walk of life. Some of you I see regularly and talk to often, and some I carry in my heart and thought. I do value this connection that exists between us, even if it is unspoken of.

As 2010 arrives I can fully repeat what I say every year, this is the best year of my life!

Publish Post

Sleep Hygiene or tips for a good night sleep:

2010-01-19T07:49:00.000-08:00

A good night sleep is the secret to a happy productive next day. It is the time our body takes to restore and rejuvenate. Our night depends on the day we had, and the next day depends on how well our previous night was.

Here are some tips:

· Go to sleep when you feel sleepy
· If you do not fall asleep within 30 min, get up, do something that will induce sleep and then return to bed.
· Create a routine: Go to bed and wake up at the same time
· Go to bed before 10:30 p.m. According to Ayurveda after 10pm we begin a new cycle of energy. This is an energetic cycle, where we sometimes feel that we get a second wind.
· Exercising is healthy, and useful for a good night sleep, but timing is key. Finish your exercise at least 4 hours before bedtime. Mornings and early afternoons are best.
· Make your bedroom a sanctuary. Keep it clean and inviting. Soft light, quiet and relaxing.
· Use your bed for sleeping only. Read, work, watch TV and fold laundry elsewhere. This way your body will recognize that being in bed means sleep. Sex is the only exception.
· Avoid Caffeine, nicotine and alcohol 5 hours before bedtime.
· Drink during the day, so you do need to drink much at night, and do not need to get up for the toilet in your sleep time.
· Take a hot bath an hour before bed. The drop in body temperature is what makes you feel sleepy.
· Develop bedtime routines. Listen to quiet music, sit silently, read something calming, or massage your body with oil.
· Eat dinner at least 2-3 hours before bed. If you are hungry later, have a light snack, unsweetened cereal with a bit of organic milk, or a bit of warm milk with a touch of honey.
· Do not turn on lights during the night, even if you have to go to the bathroom. Light exposure during the night impairs melatonin production, which is crucial for good night sleep.
· See the sun as soon as it’s up, to set your biological clock.
· Take Melatonin for a few weeks, and then let it go. (2-3mg 30-45 min before bedtime
· Magnesium (500mg 30-45 min before bedtime)

Sleep well, wake up smiling. Have a blissful life!

Organic

2010-01-02T15:00:00.000-08:00

Eating Organic for a better you and a better world

Eating organic simply means eating the way nature intended food to be. It is the way the world ate for centuries. The more recent style of production is referred to as "conventional," though organic production has been the convention for a much greater period of time. There was never a need to label food as organic until we stated producing toxic food.

It would make more sense to label food as toxic, including a list of pesticides and other chemicals used to grow the food, rather than need to label normal food as "organic."

When buying organic you make sure that your food does not have enormous amounts of pesticides, has no hormones or antibiotics and is respectful for the earth and environment.

Organic is better for you because you receive:

• Better tasting food. Better nourishment for the soil, goes into the plant and ends on our plate, revealing better flavor.

• Much higher nutrition levels (up to 19 times than non-organic).

• Healthier food. Save yourself from all the possible sicknesses and problems that chemicals, hormones and antibiotics might cause. A 1987 National Academy of Sciences report estimated that pesticides might cause an extra 4 million cancer cases among Americans. In addition to cancer, pesticides are implicated in birth defects, nerve damage and genetic mutations. The EPA considers 60 percent of all herbicides, 90 percent of all fungicides and 30 percent of all insecticides carcinogenic.

• Look for the “9”. The product number on the sticker on the produce has to begin with a 9 if it is organic.

Organic farms are better for the planet:

• Non-organic food farms suffer from the worst soil erosion in history.

• Protect water quality. Ground water is contaminated with pesticides (some cancer causing) in 38 states, the main source of drinking water for more than half of the country’s population.

• Modern farming uses more petroleum than any other single industry, consuming 12 percent of the country’s totally energy supply. Organic farming is still based on hard human work, from weeding to green manure and cover crops, instead of synthetic fertilizers.

• Most organic farms today are still small and family owned.

• Support a healthy economy. Even though organic might seem more expensive, in reality, it costs more to produce non-organic food (when you include pesticide regulation and testing, hazardous waste disposal and cleanup, and environmental damage including estimated $74 billion annually in federal subsidies).

• Some food is GMO (Genetically modified), i.e. a lab-invented food. Most common GMO food is soy, corn and canola. This food has fewer nutrients, less flavor and is heavily sprayed. A food that is only good to the pocket of its inventors. Buying organic ensures you dot not get GMO food. Anecdote: I went to a big chain supermarket to buy tomatoes. They did not have organic, so I asked the kind employee if he knows how good these tomatoes are. Many times a farm is in process of becoming organic, or does not spray, but is too small to pay for the organic certification. He highly recommended the tomatoes. He said they are great and can last for at least 2 weeks. Hmmm, I thought, how can that be? Ah, he said. They are made with pig genes in them so they can withstand heavy spraying and will not perish easily. So for all of you that eat Kosher or Halal, watch out! You might be a eating a sinful tomato!

For more information visit:
www.ccof.org
www.organic.org
http://www.organicconsumers.org/

Backbends – Open Heart

2009-11-26T13:53:00.000-08:00

No better time than Thanks Giving to practice back bends. The practice of back bending is very powerful and can lead to more than a beautiful arc in the spine.

When back bends are practiced appropriately we begin our movement with the breath. As we inhale we find greater length in the spine and as we exhale we dive deeper into the pose, beginning the opening with the chest and upper body. This is why so often they are referred to as heart openers. As we go deeper into the pose, we keep the sensation of lengthening and expanding while inhaling and softening and deepening while exhaling. This allows the chest to expand fully and not collapse into the lower back, thus creating more space around the heart and lungs, allowing circulation to flow more freely in that area.

Backbends open the Anahata (heart) chakra, allowing us to experience openness with emotions and relationships. With an open heart, a sense of a wide and vast chest and great lungs we can live life fuller, with less fear and more love and compassion.

Back bends are stimulating and mostly invigorating. They help build energy and strength, especially in the wrists, arms, legs, buttocks and spine while stretching the chest, shoulders, abdomen, hips, and thighs. They relieve stress and fatigue, stimulate the abdominal organs and awaken the Kundalini, increasing the flow of our life force. The nervous system is stimulated, creating heat and increasing metabolism. It helps open the lymph nodes by stretching areas where they are located (chest, armpits and groins).

There are three types of backbends:

•Traction –When the Asana moves with gravity. Muscles in the front of the body keep the body from falling. (Ustrasana or drop backs))
•Leverage – using active strength of arm, legs or a prop (wall) to leverage the asana and stretch the front of the body. (Dhanurasana)
•Contraction – Back muscles (spinal erector muscles) contract to overcome gravity. (Salabasana)

It is helpful to learn to practice these with a good teacher. As to learn how to warm up correctly and what needs to be stretched before we practice different backbends. Some preparation may include shoulder openers, hip openers or even stretching of the quads. Practicing softer backbends, before the deeper ones, a balance of work on those that require wrist strength (Urdhva Dhanurasana) and those that help build it without straining. (Dhanurasana).

When doing traction backbends it is important to keep the hips forward as much as possible. When coming out of traction poses the head is last one to come up.
Just as important is what follows the back bends. Better not to rush into forward bends, but practice some twists and hip openers first. Starting with gentle ones before going deeper into a full Paschimotanasana.

Many more details can be written about alignment and sequencing of backbends. I look to emphasize the heart opening of back bends here, the great possibility they offer to be able to receive fully and give fully.

Namaste and Happy Giving.

Is yoga about the perfect pose?

2009-10-01T15:24:00.001-07:00

Just in case you thought that you need to look like the Yoga Journal cover, watch this video of a behind the scenes Yoga Journal Photo shoot.

http://www.yogajournal.com/video/11

It is important to remember that yoga, as we know it today, with such emphasis on Asana, on poses, is relatively a new phenomenon.

Yoga Asana as it has been practiced for thousands of years is mostly about taking a seat in lotus position to meditate. In the early 1900s more elaborate poses have developed, and thanks to Krishnamacharya, many of these poses have started to become more popular, through him, and then some of his students like BKS Iyengar, Pattabhi Jois and his son Desikachar.

Even these poses from India have gone through further transformation, as teachers in the west brought in their skills, from dance, gymnastics, martial arts or other personal preferences.

All this is wonderful as nothing is static, surely not yoga. The teachings are alive and keep transforming. However, looking at the original goal of yoga, of union of mind body and soul, or finding freedom, developing ease in posture, and ceasing the fluctuations of the mind, it is important that we observe what and how we practice.

I love doing fancy poses, inversions are empowering and arm balances are just great fun. Asana, and creative poses are fun and healthy as long as we take them for what they are.

Yoga is not a fashion show. We do not need to look like a cover model of Yoga Journal, nor do the models themselves look like that in everyday life.

The beauty of yoga Journal and the way it presents poses and yoga is a great inspiration. A way to see how a “perfect” pose would look like. Then, it is important for us to take that and find how it can be perfect for OUR body. For our body in that specific time and place, as every day we might be different.

Practice with acceptance, with inspiration to keep learning and developing, and with gratitude to wherever you are right now. That is the only place you can truly be.

Fresh and Healthy: How to choose the freshest fruit and veggies?

2009-08-31T11:55:00.000-07:00

Buy Local. The food did not need to be transported and so there is a better chance it was picked ripe, that it has less waxing and coatings, and less energy was wasted in bringing it to you. Check the sticker on the fruit to see where it's from.
Buy organic, get it the real way, the way nature planned it. The sticker on the fruits and vegetables will have a number. If it starts with a 9, you’re good to go. 9 means organic.
Buy in season. Some of the health boosters now in season are blueberries, cherries, garlic, asparagus and watermelon.
Go to farmers market to get the produce directly from the source. To find out where there is a farmers market near you check Local Harvest.
Check if it is ripe. Fruit that has been ripen on the tree tastes better and has more nutrients.

Some ways to check ripeness:

Tap on your watermelon with your hand, a deep hollow sound gives an indication of ripeness and sweetness.
Take a look: greens should look vibrant and alive, if they have started to yellow or wilt, move on.
For other veggies, see that they are firm but not too hard, you want them to appear vibrant and appetizing. No signs of discoloration or mold.
With Garlic you can check the bottom to see if it looks clean or if some black mold has started to grow, Onions should have no smell.

Bottom Line: if it looks great, looks fresh and appetizing and is organic you’re good. (Some non-organic produce looks good because of chemicals or genetically modified genes, but tastes like nothing and has little nutrients). Coming soon, an article about organic. Keep it real!

Have a good nothing!

2009-08-16T17:34:00.000-07:00

“Have a good nothing” Debbie wished Gil, and I wished him the same. “Have a good nothing” he replied.

“Now that my diet is so much better and that I exercise more, sleep is my next issue. I tend to wake up at night and just go into thoughts, planning or thinking of clients and their needs.” Gil was telling me.

Meditation was the first option I offered. Meditation is simply training the mind. Sitting still, doing nothing, allowing the awareness to drop to the belly as we follow the breath, in and out, in and out…

Like our legs; when we go to sleep we want them to be still and rest, no need for them to move. The same goes for our eyes or ears, but what about the mind? Why is it so hard to just switch off the mind? A good night sleep is a night of rest, a night where all functions of the body except for the autonomous (like the heart or breath) are resting. That includes our digestion system and our mind.

Gil seemed to be ok with the idea of meditating and was willing to give it a try. “It will be hard to fit it in my schedule” was his first reply. Since his mind is a very strong one, and since he has the capability of taking decisions and following them through, he decided to convince his mind that there is no need for it to do anything during the night. It can all wait for the next day. Simply do nothing. Indeed, doing nothing is the hardest thing for most people in the west. Yet doing nothing is really the ultimate rest.

“ This is your vacation time”, Gil told his mind before he went to bed, “ A time to have a good nothing”.

Another option I offered a friend was to breath slowly and deeply, fully bringing the awareness to the breath. If needed, counting the breath, the slow rhythm and the calming effect of the breath work to allow surrender.

Last night, as Debbie woke up at 3:00am and was about to use the restroom as she normally does, she was more aware of her pattern, and realized she did not really need to go, and staying in bed was already better, as she did not fully awake from getting up and using the toilet. She lay in bed and as thoughts were coming in, she told her mind sharply “Don’t think!” She had the habit of planning her day at that time, but by the time morning rolled in she was too tired to start the day.

This time she managed to go back to sleep and wake up much happier. Sleeping, like Savasana in Yoga is a place to have a good nothing. A place to surrender and just allow deep relaxation.

So from now on, I wish you all “ have a good nothing!

Being Ethical

2009-08-10T09:19:00.000-07:00

After a nice dinner of falafel with tahini, and a huge salad the conversation drifted to economy and the stock market. I shifted to reading my book about Mao. When I hear discussions about corporations, the stock market or global economies, I seem to get personally offended as the protector of the poor. I learned it is best for me to shy away. Yet when the talk drifted to ethics, I could not resist and returned to the table with an excuse of getting a cherry.

What makes a stockbroker ethical? How are work ethics kept by a professor that has received tenure? What about the guest at the hotel that does not pay bills, should he use unlimited water? He did pay a high price for the room…

Gil described the laws that are there to keep the brokers ethical, and said that the main thing is to always put the clients’ interests first. This is when I could not help myself and jumped in “so if my client’s interest is to make money, I can invest his money anywhere as long as I make money for him, even if I know that I’m investing in companies that are destroying the planet?”

“What is ethics?” Brian kept asking. “It is not something we can talk about. We cannot judge ethics by the action. People tried to define this for centuries and it is very hard to put in words.” “It is the intention that counts “Sonya added. “But how can we know what the true intention of the person is? “ Asked Brian.
Indeed the intention is crucial and that is why we have courts, to know the facts and as much as possible motives and thoughts beyond the actions.

Again an example of people acting in a way that seems unethical was brought up. Seems like each person around the table had an example that bothered them. Maybe this is why this keeps coming up around the world. Reading about Mao surely makes me wonder. How can someone so unethical manage to become such a figure in controlling so many others?

Self-responsibility I said. I believe that we all know what the right thing to do at every moment is. If we look inside we know what would be best for the person involved, for society, for the planet…it is not a calculated knowledge, rather more of an instinct. First, knowing that what I think, speak or do will not harm anyone or anything, and then seeing the best interest of the other.

This summery of mine was mostly accepted yet it received some criticism that it cannot be implemented.
How does one become self-responsible? What is the motivation behind being self-responsible? Why not take care only of myself?

When thinking of how I came to act the way I act I realized that it was through education and life experience (and inherent nature?). I feel calm and true to myself so long as I know I have truly done my best with out being selfish.

Some education was from school and parents, but what always stuck with me was the saying, “Do unto others as you would want done to you.” So if I am teaching a Yoga class and I have done my duties of teaching and adjusting, but have a few extra moments to help one more student, knowing that they would like to receive the extra help (even if they do not expect it), I will take the extra effort and be of service beyond what is required. Sometimes just lending an ear, or noticing who might appreciate a hand, and being there quietly, as service, as a friend.

Education includes also self-education, sitting in meditation and asking tough questions, such as “who am I?” or “why do I do what I do?” Education served as a means to introduce the importance of caring, the significance of nature and humans. Life experience, one of my biggest teachers, included travel, meeting people from other cultures, befriending “enemies” and the choice of friends I made. Seeing the humanness in everyone, understanding the vulnerability of others and knowing where true happiness comes from help carry out a life of awareness.

Gil was happy with the solution of education yet insisted that all other measures of law and enforcement are to still be around till most humans can really act that way. At least it serves as prevention for bad ethics.

So I urge each and every one of us to be SELF RESPONSIBLE, not to look at what others do or don’t, not to search for blame or excuses, not to compare, but to do our best to be the best we can for one another. This will ultimately be very self-rewarding.

As Socrates said: “The truly wise man will know what is right, do what is good and therefore be happy” (Sahakian, William S. & Sahakian, Mabel Lewis. Ideas of the Great Philosophers. pp 32-33)

Please leave your comments below, share your ideas for how we can become Self Responsible and how can we pass this on to others without force? Why do you care?

Foods that will make you happy

2009-06-30T11:02:00.000-07:00

Love that happy feel, where the world looks pretty? Attitude is the first step, a sense of seeing the half glass full. Here are some foods that can help as well:

Dark Chocolate or even better, raw cocoa nibs; Coco is rich in magnesium, which helps relax and enjoy a nice quiet mood.
Sprouts – can give you some high. They are so alive and waiting to burst out into full form, that when you take in some of that crunch, you get the extra power of potential (rich in folic acid and soluble fiber)
Dark leafy greens will boost your energy and immune system, giving you a sense of power and strength. Eat them as raw as possible. Consider Kale your new best friend (rich in folic acid and soluble fiber).
Mung beans, sunflower seeds, asparagus, pineapple, and bananas can lift your spirits, as they are rich with tryptophan an amino acid converted by the body into the feel-good chemical serotonin.
Brown rice is warming sweet and grounding. Chew well. (Rich in B vitamins.
Wild salmon and sardines (rich in omega 3 fats and vitamin D)
Ground flaxseeds (rich soluble fiber, omega 3 fats, and folic acid)
Not a food but is natural and works too: St John's wort is the best natural antidepressant.

And remember. Nothing beats a smile a day. Try a big smile every few hours as you eat some yummy food.

Karma, Don’t worry about it.

2009-06-11T10:51:00.000-07:00

Karma is a Sanskrit word that means action, or deed. It is mostly used to describe the seed of the cycle of cause and effect. Originating in ancient India, and treated in Hindu, Jain, Sikh and Buddhist philosophies. In these systems the effects of all deeds are viewed as actively shaping past, present, and future experiences.
In the west we can think of it as “what goes around comes around.”

Who is it that keeps score of Karma, and how is the payback made?

Some say it is God that decides, and that he/she is very fair, we get what we deserve. The Christian concept of reaping what you sow can be considered equivalent to Karma.
Others say that there is the Law of Karma (maybe referring to nature?). Most laws of nature have scientific research that “guarantees” their results. So far no one has made karma scientific, and it seems that mostly people “hope” for the result that would come from their actions. (Look at many of the most remembered names in history- Alexander the great, Hitler, Napoleon…)
I tend to look at karma as more of an individual functioning. Like the Isvara (the god within us), that mostly gives us immediate results. In most cases when I act according to what I consider good, I feel satisfied and happy. A sense of joy comes to me just by thinking of what I can share with others. When I am angry, acting out of control, when I am jealous or greedy, I mostly feel frustrated. When looking back, I find shame, a sense of guilt or dissatisfaction.

In order to realize karma, we need to all agree on what is Good or Bad. Or else, how would it be determined what I am getting in return?

Karma today is used so often, that at times I am horrified. A yoga student was injured quite seriously and was told by their teacher that it is a good thing since they are clearing their bad karma. A spiritual teacher told one of his students that they deserve their illness, since it is part of their cleansing. Signs at a yoga studio warn against stealing, since it is bad karma. Hmmm…

Karma, or the result of the action is not necessarily linked directly to the action itself but more so to the intention of the action. That is why thoughts and words are just like actions. One can hurt or help another just by a thought, a smile, or gossip.

When acting, thinking or wishing, we are living our karma. It should not even matter if karma really exists or not. The act of compassion of doing “ the right thing” is done because inherently, deep inside, beyond any mask of conditioning, we KNOW what is the right thing to do (or think) and we need to act out of that clear instinctive place. Not out of a momentary cloud of anger or emotion, but out of that clear reflection of what is, and how we can be of most support to any situation, being or thing.

Today Karma is used often as a motivation by reward / punishment approach, similarly to how other religions use heaven and hell. In a way it is looking to create good while using fear. Yet fear can easily fall under the category of bad energy, and as it is our intention that makes the difference, it is better to find a way to act from a place of positive energy; finding joy in solving a problem, in being of service for another, in sharing love beyond borders and normal standards.

The core of the spiritual practice is that subtle discernment of what is beneficial to self and others, and what is not; the action of compassion, sharing and accepting.

So how then, does one cultivate the ability to act from a sense of care, rightness, and ethics - without being motivated by reward or threat (of heaven or hell, good karma or bad, police, laws, shame, fear etc.)?

It is a natural thing for humans to seek joy, to want to be in the place where the unpleasant instances do not lead to suffering. When we act from a place of intuition, of compassion and generosity towards everything else (our bodies included), we then can be in a place of constant joy, where we let go of the roller coaster of happiness and sorrow, and can live in a state of bliss, even while sitting on the dentist’s chair.

It is helpful to notice when desire or craving (or promise of reward) drive my action, to recognize the desire to control karma as the root of suffering. Notice the motivation, do you, at the most subtle level, expect something in return?

In order to take decisions from a place of intuition and clarity, we need to be fully present to what is, to see reality without the filters of our minds, without projections.

Bottom line: Karma, don’t worry about it! Just do your best without calculations.

Inspired by a meeting with Mary at my Dharma Share, by Osho’s writings and living life.

Kale, The Ninja Veggie

2009-06-09T09:57:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Ninja Green: KALE, one of my favorites for many good reasons!
Kale is a green leafy vegetable of the wild cabbage family, big in the times of ancient Rome and widely used by peasants, brought to the US by English Settlers in the 1600s.
Kale is hardy and tastes best after a frost, sweeter when fresh, more bitter as it ages… best in the winter, but available year round. Choose crisp vibrant looking Kale with no discoloration (yellowing), and make sure it is organic.

Popular varieties are:

Curly Kale (Scotch Kale): Dark green leaves, a bit tough, defined stock and a nice peppery, pungent bitter deliciousness.
Dino Kale (known also as Lacinato Kale): very dark green with an embossed texture, slightly less stocky, a bit sweeter and more delicate than the Curly Kale.
Russian Kale (known also as Purple Kale): broader and deeply serrated leaves. More delicate and mellow flavored kale. Easy to eat raw, or very quick blanching or steaming.
Ornamental Kale: like a bouquet of flowers, ruffled edged violet and cream leaves. Mostly used as garnish.

Health Benefits:

Kale is an excellent source of Carotenes, Vitamin C, B6, and manganese.
1 cup of Kale supplies more than 70% of the RDA of vitamin C with only 20 calories!
It is a great source of fiber, minerals including copper, iron and calcium, and a good source of B1, B2 and E Vitamins.
Kale is warming, eases lung congestion, benefits the stomach, and is a specific healer for the liver and the immune system. Good for the eyes (contains Lutein).
Ayurveda: Kale reduces Pitta and Kapha

Preparation tips:

Start by washing the kale well. Then remove the leaves off the stem. If cooking Kale you can start by chopping the stems and cooking them first, adding the leaves later. The leaves are ready as soon as they turn bright green. If you cook them too long they turn not so pretty olive green and loose lots of their nutrients. Salt helps bring out the bright green, while acid might turn it army green. So if adding acid, like lemon, add it at the end before serving, and it will stay beautiful.

I love my Kale raw. My favorite salad is inspired by Esalen’s famous Kale salad. Any type of kale would work.

Kale Salad:
Remove the leaves from the stem, and shred them (you can simply tear them by hand to bite size pieces.
Save the kale stems for stock or throw them into your juice or smoothies, they are a great source of fiber.

Dressing:

1 part olive oil
1 part lemon juice
1 part NamaShoyo (or any other good quality organic soy sauce, including Braggs) NamaShoyo is unpasteurized, and raw, so better flavor and more health benefits.

Whisk dressing well.
Massage the dressing into the leaves till they are completely coated ( and look bright green). The longer the kale sits with the dressing on it, the softer it gets, so sometimes I make it a few hours ahead. It also means that it will still be great the next day.
I love adding nuts and seeds, like pumpkin and sesame (I sprout them first, but not a must).
You can also slice some daikon radish thinly into the mix. Play and enjoy!

Veggie juices and shakes:

4 large leaves of Kale and stock rough chopped
1-2 Cups apple juice (to get the blender turning)
Add veggies like daikon and radishes for a pungent taste
Add a small amount of beets for a sweeter juice
add soaked flax seeds with their water (good fats, fiber and omega 3's)
Add berries for a summer feast?
My recent Love is Kale, apple juice, frozen mango cubes and some shredded coconut, YUM.
Play and enjoy, it’s hard to go wrong!

More Ideas:

Lightly sauté kale leaves in olive oil with some fresh garlic. Add a bit of lemon juice or tamari (soy sauce) before serving.
Braise Kale. Remove from heat and add balsamic vinegar, apples, walnuts and goat cheese.
Use it as a Pizza topping. Yummy and looks great on red sauce or white cheese.
Add it to your favorite bean soup or stew (add stock first and leaves at the end)
Add it to your tomato pasta sauce or as a layer in your lasagna

Bon Apetit!

The Eco Rebel: Saving the world one drop at a time

2009-06-08T17:56:00.000-07:00

Standing in the tub rinsing the biodegradable soap off, I stay standing as the warm water rushes over my skin, loosening my muscles that don’t really want to move at 4:00am. I stop the water from draining, thinking that the extra steam would do me good, that the soaking of my feet in the water will soften my heels (crucial to have nice soft feet as a yoga teacher), and as I see the tub filling with water, my Eco friendly self jumps in and feels bad for the waste. I step out to finish drying, leaving the tub full, thinking I’ll find what to do with this water later.

After teaching my two yoga classes, I rode my bike to the bank to transfer my NY account to be a California one. It’s about time after 3 years in this area. Guess that since I haven’t signed a lease for a home yet, and the address I use is my brother’s, I felt that California is not officially my new home. NY was my last steady home (8 years in the same building for all you that like to call me a gypsy:)), and since then I was living wherever I was welcome, always with a semi departure date.

Now that I am pseudo living a “normal” life, I felt that the time is right. California has also grown on me, and as they say, nothing is more permanent than the temporary. As I was filling up my deposit slip, a sweet young woman approached me and asked if I would like to open an account. Hmmm, was it written on my face? I realize that they have a promotion now, and I assume she gets something out of it too. The Chinese woman took me to her desk, while speaking at the speed of light. We managed to learn about each other, where we’re from, what languages we speak and what I do for a living. When she heard I used to do photography and now I teach Yoga, her face transformed. “But why”, she asked and continued without waiting for an answer, “I need the extra money so I can travel. I would love to go to Israel during Christmas. But it’s expensive, right? And dangerous too?” Deja vous. I remember seeing many similar looks in NY, when I was speaking of leaving the ”glamorous” art and fashion life.

“If you are an artist, shouldn’t you have torn pants and red hair? I have one client here that changes his hair color all the time”. I smiled. I was wearing pretty cool black pants, and simple bright blue shirt. Suddenly I was conscious that my clothes might look old, and for sure nothing like the “well dressed” around me. “She takes another look at me, seems dazzled and says, ”You have many professions, as long as you can manage to get by”.

I returned home, made lunch, email, nap…and when I woke up something started smelling a bit stuffy. The toilet? I am a pretty anal guy about cleaning, but hey, smell is smell. As I looked for a cleaning cloth (I always take an old piece of clothing, or a kitchen sponge that is on its last leg) I realize that the tub is full, and that’s the source of the smell. Not so bad, and only some water has evaporated. Since my veggie garden did not need extra water, I decided to use the water for cleaning the car.

I took the waste basket behind me and with a sweeping motion filled it up from the tub, Walking through the small cottage, out the screen door, down two steps, along the path, ducking under the fig tree branches (just like in Israel), passed the baby banana tree, I open the wooden gate, pass my motorcycle and pour it over the top of the dirty metallic grey Pontiac Vibe. This scene has repeated itself many times, more than I can count. In the process I asked myself: “what am I doing?” How much does water cost, and how crucial is it to save the planet, when everyone around me has a huge lawn. I even managed to feel happy that I am cleaning the wastebasket at the same time. Hmmm, am I becoming fanatic? I decided to practice “just carrying the water”. In the Zen spirit, I took it as a meditation. Back and forth, step after step, washing away the dirt.

I managed to clean the Vibe, to somewhat clean a Civic that is living here waiting for its owner to return very patiently, and even clean my Suzuki Katana. As I was wiping the windows, my reflection appeared, standing in my black tank top, my arms seemed a bit buffed from the work, I smiled at my reflection feeling good. A moment later a neighbor walks through his nice Zen looking gate (really a door connected to a tall wooden wall that surrounds his home; never really could see what his garden looks like). He looks my age, wearing a nice suit, tapping his iphone as he passes by. I reflect for the second time today about my life choices. At my age, I could own a big house, driving a fancy car, wearing fancy clothes, and bragging about my fancy wife. I would stop through a car wash on my way to a meeting, making phone calls as big machines rub the car.

Instead I feel like a lone warrior, a rebel. In my own little way, using my hands and tub water, wearing the same pants I own for 7 years now, and no, I am not a hippie. Just me. My Gemini reflects on the two sides, knowing I could do well either way. Even though I get a momentary high thinking of the “glamor” life I could be living now, I know in a deep sense, that this is my truth. That I will not regret the choices I am making now.

By washing my car this way, I saved on a gym membership, saved on a car wash and saved on the water. Really for me it is about saving the construction of the gym equipment, the gym building, same for the car wash machine, equipment water and soap, and it might have even taken me less time than doing both gym and driving to the car wash.

Mostly it takes just a moment of awareness in our actions. Some ideas:

• If it’s yellow let it mellow if it’s brown let it drown (in the toilet that is)
• While waiting for hot water in the sink, fill up your kettle or Britta
• Close the faucet while brushing your teeth or shaving
• Wash your car with a bucket and gratitude (Think Karate Kid)
• Please share more ideas in the comments below : )

And…enjoy. Don’t let this stress you out. I think of these as fun games, an attitude, a joy in doing this, so do it only when it is of not too much trouble.

We are saving the world, one drop at a time. : )

Guruji passed away, his tradition keeps living here in Palo Alto

2009-05-19T16:25:00.000-07:00

Sri Krishna Pattabhi Jois, known to his students as Guruji, passed away yesterday, May 18th at the age of 93. Guruji was a student of Krishnamacharya in Mysore India, where many students including myself went to study and experience life in a different culture. Guruji was a person of dedicated practice, of joy and love for sharing. He was still helping students in backbends at the age of 90! As Guruji would say: “Practice and all is coming".

I celebrate all that he has offered us, and I am grateful for all that he shares with us beyond his body. Guruji's teachings shall live on and keep inspiring more students on the path of yoga, of union, of teacher and student practicing. I am grateful for the tradition we inherited, and the seeds that have been planted. We can see the flowers booming in many new traditions of yoga from power to Jivamukti through most Vinyasa flow classes out there.

Since March I have had the privilege to teach in Guruji’s tradition here in Palo Alto. Early morning Ashtanga Mysore classes 6 days a week and even some afternoon classes. I am blessed with dedicated students and a body that allows me to be of service to others. The classes are filled with the sound of breathing, of bodies moving on the mat pose after pose, like waves, flowing one after the other in a calm rhythm finding the connection to the great ocean of life.

As I write I look over my screen to see a beautiful vegetable and flower garden. It was such a treat to see how hard earth can be tilled and worked, and how with the aid of water and sun small plants grow to become flowers and lettuce. It is a miracle to watch. Very much like the miracle of students practicing finding growth in their body, mind and spirit. It is a gift to have the time to garden and feel the earth cover my hands, a gift to be able to cook my own food and eat it in a clam and beautiful setting of this garden with a fig tree bearing signs of fruit over my head. As a city boy I find so much pleasure in this small-contained farm setting. I balance it by going to a superb 5 rhythms dance class on Monday nights, a class of mostly free form dance, of allowing the body to flow in its own rhythm, connecting with beat and other dancing souls on the wooden basketball floor. Dance is liberation for me, a compliment to my Yoga practice, from form to no form; breath is always present filling my lungs and heart with oxygen, fueling my energy.

Today I wish to thank all my teachers along the way, for my life as it is today, and my teachings are a long necklace containing their pearls of wisdom.

Your Body as your Temple

2009-04-29T19:27:00.000-07:00

The Yoga practice, being sore and Injuries

Seems like most people I know suffer from some sort of injury one time or another. Here are a few tips, from Yoga practice to supplements and food.

Before I begin my practice I bring my awareness to my body. Feeling where it is today, awake, stiff, sore or energetic. Then I take a moment to feel gratitude towards it. I am here, alive, breathing in this body. As I connect with my breath I add a smile, and feel softness. ahhhh :)

I am feeling sore, to practice or not to practice?

Yes, keep practicing, but: First lets distinguish between pain and discomfort or being sore. Pain is not good, and one should stop as soon as pain is there. Discomfort, however, is a sign to yield, to take notice, and to breathe into the place of discomfort. This allows the body to open. Soreness should be treated like discomfort. There is no need to stop practicing—just practice with extra awareness, take it slow and gentle, and modify where needed. When sore, practice to the place of discomfort and not beyond. Practicing 80% of my normal is where I usually like to go.

Remember: Practice is good, but know your edge – there is no benefit in pushing too hard. Treating your body with respect and honoring the signs it gives you is crucial. If we learn to listen to the body, and understand that every day, every moment is different, then we can practice in a sustainable manner. If yesterday, or 10 years ago, there were things that were very easy for me, it does not mean that they are easy today, and I do not expect to perform the same way everyday. Every moment is like a new beginning, and I trust what my body tells me at that particular moment.

Helpful foods for maintaining a healthy body

• Pineapple and garlic both have anti-inflammatory properties and help the body heal from inflammation internally.

• Fresh fruit helps the body absorb the helpful mineral MSM (see below).

• Dark Leafy greens, like kale, beet and mustard greens, arugula, baby salad mix, etc.

• Sprouts

• Raw vegetable juices or blends: I like to blend my veggies so I keep the fiber and have no waste. They become more like thick soups. I use whatever is around. You can play and use any of the ingredients below, no rule!

• Dark, leafy greens

• Celery (absolutely essential due to its high water content)

• A quarter beet (the juice becomes bright red)

• A small piece of daikon radish

• A small carrot (not always as it is very sweet)

• Herbs if around (parsley, cilantro) great for cleansing

• A cube of ginger (can get spicy!)

• Apple juice to get the blender going (100% raw, unfiltered juice)

• A pinch of salt

• A clove of garlic

Supplements:

3 grams MSM with 500 mg Vitamin C and lots of water

MSM (Methylsulfonylmethane)

MSM originates in the ocean but is extracted from the lignin of pine trees. Good quality MSM is indistinguishable from the MSM found in broccoli, peppers, Brussels sprouts, onions, asparagus, cabbage, and mother's milk. MSM acts as a powerful antioxidant and healing source of natural sulfur.

Don’t I get enough from food? Yoga students tend to for put a great deal of stress on their muscles, joints, tendons, and ligaments; and sulfur (MSM), is an essential mineral for promoting elasticity, strength, and the general health of our bodies' tissues. You can find MSM many times sold together in joint formulas, or as a therapy for hair, nails and skin. This is because MSM helps repair every cell of our body.

You can read more on this site http://www.all-natural.com/msm.html

To read the article on my blog page click here

Palo Alto Yoga and Life

2009-03-29T19:27:00.000-07:00

Sunday was my first day of teaching Ashtanga Mysore style here in Palo Alto. I am enjoying my new life greatly. Early morning wake ups with a practice that leads to teaching a class. Some other classes through the day, like the class of the young mommy’s, lots of cooking, reading and studying further in the realm of yoga, nutrition and blissful living.

I just returned from a long walk around the neighborhood. Private homes with many different styles, some look more Mexican influenced, some Euro country, some modern and others the classic American. In common they have well maintained gardens. Whatever style, the clean front lawn or the more hidden garden with paths and trees, the slightly Asian with Japanese maples or a little fountain, I am blessed to enjoy all of these as I stroll in the mostly empty streets with only the occasional father jogging after his little daughter riding a pink bicycle.

My home is a back house of another old house, simple, with beautiful wooden floors, a large kitchen, my own bedroom and living room. I feel rich having all this for myself. No roommate, no neighbors bellow or above, what more could I ask for?

Sometimes I wonder how people end up anywhere but NY or SF, or maybe Paris…and I smile when I think of the sequence of events that led me here. A brother in a random place like Menlo Park helps, a yoga practice, some residency...

I am grateful for Heleen and Adarsh that allowed me this opportunity, for the Yoga students that allow me to teach, and for the sun that is one more cause for all this blossom around.

St Patrick's day in its homeland - Ireland

2009-03-29T19:16:00.000-07:00

After a fabulous French dinner for Fiona, Tony and their Dad Anthony, celebrating their Birthdays from year round on one chosen communal day, we head up for another drink at the upstairs bar. Beers were following the dinner wine. Many unknown beers are offered and of course I go for new experiences. The Bar is a converted home (or two), the mood - a bit dark, an huge outer space for smokers, and lots of sexy dresses, their bottom seem very far from the high heals, exposing lots of untanned legs.

Sunday was a recovery day with a late start, and a bicycle ride to the nearby Dublin Bay. Took Betty’s (Ton’s partner) Bike that had only one brake and headed down the left side of the road. On many of the crossings the road had big letters painted “look right” or “look left”, knowing that a silly tourist like myself might just jump into the street assuming no car is arriving – which is probably true, since not many cars drive the wrong side… It was splendid to see the water so close to town, and the windswept mini sand dunes. Took a walk to the big statue of Maria situated on a very tall poll overseeing all the boats arriving. As I walk I pass a few little concrete bathing shelters dedicated for women or men. Reminded me of the one religious beach we have in Israel. Seems like Israel is more open and liberal than I remember.

On Monday Fiona Tony and I rented a car and drove up to Newgrange, a UNESCO World Heritage site older than the pyramids (Built around 3200BC). This megalithic passage tomb is pretty dramatic mound, especially from the outside as it covers around an acre and surrounded by 97 Curbstones. I especially loved all the megalithic art that included many spirals, my favorite symbol. The passage and chamber are designed to light up for the summer and winter solstice, but you’ll have to get in line to nab a place. In 2007, almost 28,106 people applied onsite with only 50 places available!

Tuesday was a visit to Glendalough (Glen of the two lakes). Yes, Tuesday was ST. Patrick’s day and we decided to escape the Dublin craziness and head out to nature. I sure had enough to drink by now. As we started our walk we realized we were not the only ones with this great idea. Luckily enough we went on the big route hike that included a real steep climb up he mountain with rewarding streams and a waterfall along the way, a splendid view from the peaks, and a marvelous climb down that included lots of running water and grand rocks to fulfill my projection of Irish land.

Wednesday I got to see the famous Race Stallions, and some Japanese gardens, but the best was seeing where Fiona grew up. It lights up Fiona in a whole new dimension. It is fascinating to me to know someone in one environment (like California), and then realize the whole history that comes along, which normally would be hidden from my sight. We both shared the Bay area experience and even some Boulder experience, yet I schlep the whole Jewish tradition on my shoulders (heavy, let me tell you), and she has the Irish one)

Thursday was museum day, which we started with a cappuccino at the Museum of Modern art. The special show on display was of Hughie O'Donoghue, which got me a bit jealous and some inspired. He uses photo prints on canvas and combines them with painting in a fantastic manner. It is almost seamless, and when not, it seems to serve a purpose. Grand large pieces and big brush strokes covering many layers. Had to drag the Walsh’s for a second viewing.

Friday afternoon, Gil picked me up at SF airport. There is nothing sweeter that someone close waiting for me at the airport, a feeling of being welcomed, a knowing there is someone that will always be there – unconditionally – Thank You Gil.

Loyalty

2009-03-16T10:52:00.000-07:00

A friend recently asked me: “Loyalty" What does this word mean to you?
How can a man who loves women be loyal?

How can one be with a woman if he does not like women in the first place? was my first reaction. Then I wondered, what is loyalty, why do I want anyone to be loyal to me? Is this fear based? Am I afraid of being betrayed, or afraid of getting hurt, afraid that my ego will suffer or afraid to be abandoned? If I love someone, wouldn’t the real love include freedom and trust? If I trust them, then there is an expectation that they would be loyal…hmmm. I can also trust and expect that they do the best they can, really be honest with what their needs are, and with that be able to accept whatever happens.

Indeed, when there is an agreement, one would hope that both sides would keep to it, yet isn’t the agreement a base for limiting, for not setting the loved one to be free? It seems to me that only from the space of freedom comes the true will to be together to share, and to respect the others feelings, not because I have to, but because I choose to.

I can love women, appreciate them for all that they are, and not need to have every one of them, be my own. I remember when a friend that was studying with me Tibetan Buddhism asked me “how can you shoot fashion? I would go crazy seeing all these beautiful women all the time. Just walking down the streets of NY is torture”. I looked into his sweet blue eyes and replied, “Seeing such beauty walk the street in front of me, I look and enjoy. I feel gratitude that I can experience such beauty, see it and absorb, would it be better not to see them?”

I think of cultures where the woman is completely covered and wonder if this could tame my love for women, my appreciation for their beauty. Of course there is stimulation by seeing women dressed sexier, but it does not mean that I cannot control my feelings. It does not mean that the beauty I see, and love for women I have, has to come into action with every glance. A friend once said that if that were the case, (that men cannot control themselves while seeing a woman), it would be like assuming that all men are rapists to begin with, and of course this is the dramatic viewpoint.

Loyalty for me is the knowing that I would do my best to respect my partner, consider her feelings and be honest with anything that I do or need. Sharing my experience and what I go through and hope that both sides can first and foremost remember that our Love is a the basis to healthy communication, that the trust we share in the will to take care of each other, allows for more freedom and living life to its fullest.

Dublin, Ireland

2009-03-16T02:54:00.000-07:00

As the bus rides into town from the airport, my view out the window seems like Brooklyn to me. The same type of brownstones with a front garden and metal fence, the same size sidewalk, the local Irish pub (really local here…), and a bit of rubbish around. As we get closer to the center I feel like entering Manhattan, with wider sidewalks, some older buildings mixed in with newer architecture, lots of people on the streets, and the sense that its alive. I cannot see up through the bus windows, so I skip the fact that the buildings are not trying to reach God.

My first few days are filled with street roaming, between shops and some parks, soaking the holiday feel coming up. St Patrick’s day is Tuesday, and Dublin knows that this is a big day. I felt a big day already Saturday as it was a double celebration of Birthdays, triple really, for Tony, Fiona and their Dad all celebrated in a big gathering a t a French restaurant. Tony and Fiona are my hosts to their native land, friends I met in the US thanks to Yoga. Tis such a small world, the Ashtanga community. Tony and I got to practice Ashtanga with Luke in Temple Bar (down town Dublin), and even though the first moment Luke asks me if I’ve practiced Mysore style before, a bit later he comes and asks me if I am the photographer. We both were practicing in Mysore, India at the same time, and it is not long till faces meat again on or off the mat.

I notice how spoiled I am with the abundance of organic produce in California when shopping for dinner. Last night I cooked dinner for Fiona, Betty and Tony, a grand veggie feast. It was lovely. Rich roasted parsnip and carrot soup with scallions, butter head salad with blue cheese in balsamic / lemon vinaigrette, whole wheat baguette, zucchini mushroom lasagna in red wine tomato sauce, and for desert, drunken plum in wine and whiskey over vanilla ice cream. I am always happy when people scrape their plates and ask for more, even when the lasagna has no meat or béchamel sauce. Bon Appétit!

Amsterdam, a reflection

2009-03-16T02:48:00.000-07:00

The crowd stands in front of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” and in front of Vermer's “Kitchen Maid”. These are the most famous art pieces, so we all want to see them. I have to admit that Van Goghs’ less famous Pink Peach blossom, painted for the birth of his nephew is one of my favorites. The Japanese feel of the pink and white blossom on the pastel blue background is very soothing to me.

The Rijks museum was friendly enough with Lots of Rembrandt, a few Vermer's including the special Kitchen Maid (maid pouring the milk), and woman with Balance. So distinct is the mood, the lighting and the background of his work. I got to reflect on the difference between this and the work of Richard Avedon, the fashion and portraits, the clean backgrounds and the placement of the figure in the space.

Van Gogh museum is pretty big with a whole new modern building hosting a special show of his work by night. Reading about him and seeing his work closely I feel like I know Van Gogh personally and realize that he died at my current age…I reflect on the art work that I created over the years, the styles and periods I went through, creating a little retrospective in my mind, and to my surprise I could fill up all of the walls here and more.

After spending the day at museums, I return home for a snack and head out with a camera. I no longer have an urge to document Amsterdam or any of its sites. I enjoy the freedom of walking with no backpack. Now as the time is getting close to sunset, I wonder the streets with the Canon camera strap hanging over my neck, many layers of thin shirts on, my green jacket with the large and cool looking collar, and a feeling of being an artist again. As I look into the canal I see the reflections of the canal houses dancing, shifting shape and form. Am I seeing the canal houses, the water or a new reality of the houses?

It is like the Big Sur Ocean that I viewed every day at Esalen. Once it was completely crisp, dark and rich blue, with clear definitions, another time it was dark grey and misty with strong waves and lots of movement. Still again it appeared calm with a greener tone, lighter and by night of course it appeared more like a black canvas, like a mirror offering the reflection of the moon or a star, mostly Venus. At sunrise or in the summer it was like a new Ocean all together. Was I changing or was it the ocean. Was it the same ocean, or was it just at the same place. Knowing that I was not changing glasses daily, I accepted that what I might think I know, what I can easily place in a box called the pacific, is relative and in flux, and day by day I delight in its new face.

At home I am happy to find the story of Amsterdam revealed to me in the abstractions of the shapes of homes and windows dancing on the canal waters as I captured them in my camera.

On my last day here I went to visit the Anna Frank House. A different kind of museum, a place where it is mostly my imagination and astonishment at human kind that makes the visit worthwhile. Really there is not much about the museum, but so much more of where my mind goes when triggered by human history. When standing in a seemingly normal room, a film of what happened in this very spot runs now in faded colors, with almost no sound through my imagination super imposed on the walls and space I stand in, merging times into one, knowing that these walls witnessed it all. Could this wall be the same for me as it were for Anna Frank? Do the walls care about the stories they hold? Do the floors notice the feet of the millions of tourists standing on the same wood that German soldiers did? I walk out to a drizzle, go home and pack my stuff. Catch a tram to the central station, on my way to Dublin.

Yoga as Grace

2009-03-10T23:50:00.000-07:00

Practicing Yoga is a path to help us become more aware, to discover bliss at all times and realize. Realize who we really are.

Embracing our selves now, for who we are with no expectations of achievement, we can practice a graceful and joyful Yoga; a union with our mind and body in a clam state and an even flow of breath and movement.

Along the path we have many opportunities to practice and express our awareness. It starts with out behavior and attitude. “How was your practice?” the ultimate question after one leaves the shala in Mysore, India. Standing out side, sipping on a coconut I heard one yogini tell the other: “Every morning the girl next to me rolls over to my mat in Dhanurasana B and it really disrupts my flow.”

Sharing mat space, the class is surely over crowded, and extra awareness is needed, to be not only in ones own practice but also to see the surroundings. Of course a just argument can be held for each practitioner; “no room, what else to do?” Or “well I don’t know, but don’t put your sweat on my mat”. In any case, practicing for the sake of practice, for the sake of cultivating awareness and a sensation of bliss, one learns to cultivate compassion and receives great benefits and joy from seeing others be happy.

As I sit and let the class get ready here at Esalen, I hear a loud sound of a mat hitting the floor. It is not uncommon to see one toss their mat down, or kick it to roll it open. Whatever method one chooses, it is of great practice to do it consciously and with respect. Finding respect and care to all things, from the mat to the clothes we wear, from the food to the toilet, all have an important roll in our life, help us and are at our service. Practicing gratitude to all things helps bring a state of bliss on a daily basis.

We can practice this awareness as we do our Asana as well.
Through our breath, our Dristi (yogic gaze) and the grace of our movement.
Once our movement becomes too harsh, out of rhythm and either rapid or sluggish, we need to stop and refocus. While in a pose we can breathe and have a sense of joy even in difficult physical positions. Moving gracefully, like in a dance, steady, smooth movement without jerking, and a flow of energy that sips out of the lips as they stretch towards the ears.

Our intention in Yoga, in creating a union for our bodies and mind, allowing a merge, surrender to what is, however it is, creates space, space where the splendid unknown can appear and bring with it bliss, the bliss of unity. When there is no two, when there is no one, there is grace, a flow, a completeness, nothing lacking.

Yoga as grace is he ultimate practice of awareness and compassion, a surrender to the forces around us that are a part of the energy within us.
May we practice with gratitude and delight.

Amsterdam in March

2009-03-09T12:51:00.000-07:00

Sitting on a perforated, silver, metal curvy chair at the airport I look out the huge windows as people rush to the airplane stairs. Nicely designed little hand luggage in their hands, some are dressed like they are going to a fancy restaurant, skipping on heals and some got their sweatpants on ready to sleep on this long flight ahead of them.

Like so many of my trips, I am sitting alone. I notice it most while in the airport.
The man in front of me stands inline as his woman fills out immigration forms, or the woman is watching the bags while the man goes to get some drinks or use the restroom.

Like so many of my trips, as I am leaving I wonder why I am doing this. My life is great and I like what I do. I feel no need to escape or even see new things. I feel like I have done and seen enough, been in movement and enjoy some stillness now.
I take a breath to find the stillness within. I pull out my book from the bag, and go into other people’s stories. The Namesake was my gamble this time. A good book is a precious companion on flights, and taking a new book holds lots of possibilities…

The first chunk of the book tells a story of Indian immigrants to the states, and how they settle in. The man has his university job and is living his dreams while his wife is still virtually living in India, her mind and longings, waiting to go back home.
That sense of home, of family strikes me and pinches in the belly as I sit in the airport. The airport is the true land of possibilities. I look at the monitors and see letters, making up words, representing huge stories, names of cities, that immediately bring up whole cultures to mind, smells, weather, food, faces, dress code…

When arriving to Amsterdam I can’t help but notice the women. Tall women were always my weakness, and women in boots even more. Just to be clear, we are talking about stylish boots, some heal, nice black tights, and maybe a skirt. Some wearing tight jeans nicely tucked in the boots with shapely tops, a nice coat, not too long, still reveling the healthy slender body. Almost no comfy Uggs boots around, not the perfect breathe through, wind proof or other super new sporty stuff. Seems like those are tucked in the closet somewhere for their next trip away…Functional elegance is what it seems, with a strong feminine sense, of a capable woman. And the fact that most of them were riding a bicycle was even more charming. Again, no one had ultra sporty new 67 gear bikes, but mostly casual, regular old fashioned looking bicycle. Not even the Santa Cruz bike cruisers, just plain old bicycles, some still with backspin breaks.

When on Sunday night we went to he comedy club, we rode our bikes. Wearing nice outfits and sexy shoes, we pedaled through the rain, tied our bikes to one of the endless bike posts around town and entered the club to warm ourselves with a Gin Tonic.

Since my arrival here in Amsterdam, Hannif was a fantastic host, better than any guide to hosting can offer. Well, my diet and drinking habits have shifted a bit, but being a flexitarian helps, obeying the rules of being a good guest, or: in Amsterdam, be a Britt (Hannif is from England). Passport control was smooth and quick, very different than my Irish experience a few hours earlier in Dublin. Dublin airport reminded me of what the Tel Aviv airport used to be like 10 years ago before it was renovated. Well, guess Israel is not doing so badly after all.

Hannif waited just where all the families come to greet their returning loved ones. He was a bit hidden to the side with no big sign or flowers, just Hannif, being his sweet self, ready to go. It has been a while since I last saw him, and yet it felt like yesterday. Observing the beautiful airport, the design and space were first. Then came the girls. Hannif was with me on the same track. I was warned that the girls are not as friendly as I think they are. I noticed that most the Dutch people I met so far were travelers or living in a foreign country, where they naturally spoke English and were welcoming other foreigners, as they were aliens as well.

Last night Hannif hosted some friends over for Champagne tasting. That of course came along with some delicious mango covered chocolates and orange filled chocolates from a specialty little store down the road. I am so happy to see so many moms and pap’s shops, so few big chains, so many charming houses and so few big over the top buildings. Amsterdam appears to me as a quaint town that expands around its canals. The canals that add such a sweet touch. From the window of the living room where I sleep I stand and see only the water of the canal. Some ducks come by to say hello. Hannif and I practice Frisbee bread tossing to the canal to feed them.

The canals in the red light district had beautiful swans floating in them. Hannif was surprised that they choose to live in those canals. The red light district walk that we took was a show on its own. With all different woman posing at the window, teasing us to go in, some truly beautiful standing in big windows, with a bed peeking behind, like a mini hotel room, perfectly functional for a 15-minute gig. When looking into one of the girl’s eyes, seeing through, to what felt an intimate and real person, I had the Zoro need to go in and rescue her, to take her away, and be with her, to offer her something else. I know that this is probably a classic male respond, and I also am aware that what she is doing might be what she wants to do. Who am I to be a savior? Hey at time, I even thought that there was something alluring in being a kind of performer and having unlimited sex. Yes… I know that reality is different…Thank you…we finished with a nightcap at the Rembrandt square, seeing the trendy nightlife of Amsterdam.

My last week at Esalen

2009-02-27T10:58:00.000-08:00

Like any good thing it comes and goes.

Friday, the sun is out, last emails and print outs for the Blissful Living workshop I lead this weekend. I am so grateful to finish my time at Esalen with a weekend of teaching. Through the group, the service and the practice I enter a weekend of Bliss and joy.

Thursday afternoon, March 5th will be my last physical day at Esalen. Before I leave I shall hang a show of my work here at Esalen that will remain after I am gone.
Friday morning I leave for Amsterdam where I will meet Hannif and even get to spend a day with Solo. On the 12th I shall land in Dublin to celebrate Fiona and Tony’s Birthdays, with a road trip and St. Patrick's day as a bonus.

I return on March 20th, and will go to Palo Alto where I will teach the Ashtanga Mysore program for the next three months.
Adarsh and Heleen will be away, teaching, and I shall cover their shifts as well as stay at their place. I am very much happy for the opportunity to teach, and having a smooth transition back into the world of money, media signs, and cooking my own food.
It is a big transition. Food shopping, unfamiliar faces, and being in control of all parts of my life. It is the way I always had it, yet had a sweet time in having a schedule, process groups, and a dining hall where I knew there will always be a familiar face.

I am setting an intention to keep studying and teaching, and hope to find constant gratitude to every blade of grass that comes my way.

There is nothing ordinary about a blade of grass

2009-02-15T21:29:00.000-08:00

Being used to constant stimulation, needing constant food for the mind, peace is missing.

Sometimes I see just what is. When not trying to get somewhere, to achieve, then the present, the simple, the mundane is as fascinating, as holy as the great event.

Accepting that it might not be an interesting experience to share with others. That it is so simple, that there is nothing to tell. Yet, it is not boredom. It is simply being here, now, being present, without labeling, without personalizing. A dot is boundless. A blade of grass.

Have an Extra ordinary day.

In residence

2009-02-15T17:23:00.000-08:00

“I have always wondered what it is like for those that are in residence? How do you move when you are stationary (by choice) as the revolving door of connections, come and go? Where does it take you? Does time have a different meaning?”

This is part of a greater email sent to me by a friend in response to “love beyond identities”. Her question refers to me being a staff resident at Esalen Institute (esalen.org), or any other “centers”, but I can only answer of my experience here.

Sometimes I wonder if we are not all residents somewhere, within a community we create for ourselves. At a place like Esalen it is more transparent and intense from my experience.

Since I eat my meals at the lodge with a great number of people in transit, people that come for a weekend, a week or a month, I get to meet new people constantly.
It is like backpacking while staying in the same place. The cultures, the people and the new experiences come to me, if I am open to receive them.
It is really up to the resident to decide if they would like to take their meal in a box, and eat at home, or participate in the game of new connections, of explorations and of being an anchor as guests come and go.

So many of the guests here are healing or just finding something different than what they have at home. Many want to know about the place or the experience here, others about my life. Indeed the stories might get repetitive for me unless I find a fresh aspect, a relevance to the person I talk to. These are not my stories but rather moments of connections with another, an opportunity to present a gift to another.
It is harder to develop long-term relationships as guests move on while I stay. Many new encounters, but few that can develop in depth. It is with those that come for a month or a year, or permanent staff that the deeper relationships can evolve. Even though since it is such a small permanent community, it also tends to be like a fish bowl, and at times there is fear of getting to close, since there is no hiding from others or from ourselves if things do not work out.

The movement happens in a smaller space, which is only relative. I find myself in so many places through the people I meet. The journey of participating in workshops here takes me on other journeys. Each connection becomes a new time unit, and time is relative to that connection. At times speedy Gonzales and at Times it comes to a halt.

I could imagine that a teller in a bank has some similar experience, but maybe not as in depth; the constant new faces, and the not knowing who will appear next.

Today is Sunday Change Over, a big day, not only do the seminarians leave and new ones arrive, but also work scholars, those that have spent a month here are now departing. Some of the Yearly leave too, as our months at Esalen rotate around the Work scholar month.
So Monday is full of possibilities, of fresh energies, excitement of new beginnings. Will the love of my life enter to be a work scholar in the kitchen? Will it be a group of great working people? Will there be some yummy conversations or will it be a time to go inside?

Being the constant face, the greeting eyes, the open ears, and the storyteller, the one that shares ideas about life and practices, all this can be rejuvenating or very draining, depends on the day, the moon, the person…

Love beyond identities

2009-02-05T19:42:00.001-08:00

(Names have been modified, and some details too. The basis is true…)

“Marhaba to the wonderful guest of my dreams.
Believe it or not every day you visit my dreams.
I must tell you something that maybe you don’t know it - Doron you made me change a lot. You empowered me, you made me be my self and made me braver more appreciate my self, and you empowered my self-confidence also....”

Two weeks earlier I was sitting at the lodge having a nice dinner with a friend.
“OK, so I’m just going to do it, I told my friend. I am not sure what is appropriate, but I’ll ask.” At the same table in the Esalen Lodge sat a Muslim woman with a scarf around her head. I knew she was part of the Arab and Israeli Women group here, but so far I only had the opportunity to speak with the Druze and Israelis.

I realized that even though I grew up in Israel, surrounded by Arabs and Muslims, I never really had a close conversation with a religious Muslim Woman, and so was not even sure of the correct manners in such a situation.
“Do you mind if I sit?” I asked her. She raised her head towards me. She was young, maybe late 20’s, dressed in a contemporary western style, including jeans and a long sweater, no make up and her hair was completely hidden.

We followed with a quick introduction of names and such…“Are you enjoying the conference?” “Not really, with the whole situation at home, it is very difficult for me. I have a lot of anger about the situation.”
We spoke of where she is from and what brought her here. … Why America and why this group. We immediately switched to Hebrew, as we both were more fluent in it than English. ”I would love to learn Arabic. I always feel weird when I meet an Arab and we talk in Hebrew.” “Why would you want to learn Arabic?” “I always feel that I know more of the other culture if I can speak their language. It also makes the other feel more at home. Speaking Arabic would be a bridge for communication.”

The next day at the lodge, as I was having my lunch, she sat across from me. Are you ready for your first lesson?” I sipped my tea and realized that we barely have two weeks. “Maybe just some info about where to study in Israel? I asked.
“You seem like an intelligent man; lets see what you pick up. I would just want to tell you one agreement I need from you. You cannot touch me. I know there is a lot of touching and hugging here at Esalen and you always seem to be surrounded by people hugging you.”
“I understand and respect that” I said looking straight into her dark brown eyes.

So we started with greetings and simple sentences.
Some of the important things I learned right at the first lesson were greetings, How are you? What do you do? And are you married? Next was how old are you?
She taught me many ways of replying; I am sad, not so great, I feel angry. I had to ask for some more ways of responding with a positive answer.
“ What are important questions you need to know when you meet a girl” she asked me, so after marriage and age we moved to astrological sign and favorite color.

During the meals I found myself one man amongst many woman, women of all ages, very warm and friendly. It was great to join them for meals. It was where it was happening; laughter, excitement, and sometimes even dancing on the table to Arabic tunes. I was their native in a foreign land. I was remembered of my own culture and the immediate intimacy as many of them were trying to set me up with their daughters, sisters or other relatives. It was like a mission for some of them, the questions and inquiries, a lot of warmth.

I kept meeting with her for Arabic lessons. Really after the second lesson, it started drifting to talks about life and values, personally rather than theoretically. The hot spring baths came up, as it is such a dominant part of Esalen. “Why do you have o go naked? Can’t you wear a swimsuit?” “ It is legit to wear a swimsuit” I responded, “Yet why would I? I don’t wear one in the shower at home. I am in a bath, then I shower and when I leave the area I do get dressed. It feels natural and since everyone is naked in the baths it does not become a big deal”.

It is not that she was going to give it a try, especially if she might be seeing a man naked, but it seems like it made some sense to her. “OK, so lets say that the bath is for self cleaning, why go naked in the swimming pool? “ I have not seemed to convince her as much here, and the only request she had was that I not go there naked while she is at Esalen, since she might see me. (The pool is vision distance from the lodge where people mostly meet).

We sat on the bench overlooking the ocean at sunset. After speaking of Islam and the creator, of praying and religious laws, I told her that I do not believe in God. I was amazed to see that she kept listening, that the questions I proposed went deep, and she considered them. Indeed a life long of believes in one-way are not about to change in a moment, and it was also not my intention. Only to share with her my perspective as learn about hers, accepting it as is.

We stared at the ocean, silence, a butterfly passed by and the colors of sky and ocean just kept getting more intense after the sun was no longer visible. “This is it!” I told her, just what we see now. No explanation for where it is from, why and how, just this glorious moment.

She inhaled deeply.

Another day we found ourselves in the community house, reviewing our Arabic so far. I was having some basic conversation with her. She really is a fantastic teacher. First we start with a review, I am never allowed to look at my notebook, then we add some new words and then we drift to other subjects and speak in Hebrew.

“I have something for you. I made it myself.” It was a beautiful beaded piece, with a clip on one end and three threads beaded with beautiful fashion, creating a symbolic peace ornament. The beads were of earthy and creamy tones, very much like her. “These are my favorite colors,” she said while smiling shyly as she handed it to me. Our hands barely touch as I accept her gift. She then went on to talk about her personal feelings. The man she would like to find, her family relationship, the power of her older brother on her life since her dad passed away, the role she plays as an educated woman in her family and the tradition that is still so alive back home.

Realizing how much power her older brother has on her life, just cause he is the man, she tells me of all her wise and sophisticated techniques to still get what she wants. To me it seemed like such a huge effort to achieve what is most mundane in other cultures. It is either following the tradition or risking loosing the family she so loves. There was a feeling of intimacy, of great trust and reveal. As I held the beads in my hand like a mala, they were caressing her hand underneath. It was getting darker“.

I need to talk,” she said one eve. “It was an intense night for me last night. In the group I was encouraged to speak up, to say what I am going through.” She was the more timid one from what I understood. Strong feelings she learned to tame.
“I spoke my truth, and it came out strong. I was given a tennis racket to hit the pillows symbolically, there was crying in the group, it was strong. I had so much anger towards your people. After that I did not want to see anyone. Only you. I wanted to talk to you. I knew you were in the kitchen, but didn’t want to disturb. I passed by the door a few times. I really needed a hug.”

I swallowed, as touch or a hug always seemed to be such a big no no for her.
I was completely honored that she managed to see me for who I am, let go of any identity I was given, realize that I am not Israel or the Jewish religion, but just me. This was one of the most delightful moments of my life.

On the day before her departure, we went on a motorcycle ride. She asked for it a bunch of times, but was concerned if she can be on it without touching me. “ I am wearing a big Jacket that is fully padded,” I said with a teasing smile.

She had such a wild passion caged in her, a readiness to explore, a will to feel completely, and every time something came up, her mind jumped in and told her what was right or wrong to do. It was fascinating to see what seemed to me, the inner struggle between what her instinct was calling her to do and what her logic, or conditioned mind was telling her. I always tried to stay neutral, to allow her to come to the decisions on her own. I would only present my way of doing things, never suggesting that it is the way for anyone else.

When we returned from the ride, we had dinner and then went outside under the stars to say farewell. “I want to thank you for allowing me to be with my self, with my body and emotions. To realize that there is more than what I think and that it’s ok to listen to it sometimes. Thank you for noticing all the little things in me, for caring and letting me feel safe… I have something for you”. She presented me with a large book. It was her final university project about Muslim women in Israeli education system. “It was meant for someone else, but you are the one that deserves this”.

I knew the journey has only begun. That under different circumstances things might be different. We spoke of soul connections, of Love, of intimacy; possibilities.
This was a powerful moment for me. Really managing to meet a person of the most opposite beliefs and ideas (on the surface at least), and to find a human meeting point, a similar place beyond societies’ identities. Seeing clearly through the fog of conditioning, we have created a bridge, a seed for peace. I feel great gratitude to her for the openness, willingness and love shared. May this understanding keep passing on to all those that share conflict.

Standing on the shoulders of our Teachers

2009-01-26T08:18:00.000-08:00

“An artist’s early works are nearly always five-finger exercises that teach him the principles of the style of an older generation of artists, until he himself is mature enough to formulate a style of his own.”
Giorgio Morandi

This principle of practice in art is true for anything. One first studies, receives teachings and the more one practiced them, lives them, breathes them, one begins to be these teachings, to have a specific set of spices for his own recipe.

“ Practice and all is coming”, claims Patabhi Jois. It is not by talking about Yoga that one becomes a Yogi. Indeed, reading and discussing are also important, but it is the practice in every day life that helps the embodiment and manifestation of an artist, a teacher or a master in their every moment life and their sharing with others.

“Standing on the shoulders of our teachers” writes Ganga White. What does that mean to you?

An artist, a Yoga teacher, a musician or even a philosopher all start with studying masters of the past.
Practicing yoga, and studying with great masters is of great value. At a certain point, after substantial practice and time, one might start having this knowledge ingrained within themselves. Once this knowledge is there, the student learns to explore what works for them. Truly we are our own masters. We have all the answers; just don’t always see them clearly. The tradition, the teachers of past and present are guides, are shepherds presenting the grass. Once we can see the grass, we can try and eat it, we can see what it taste like. Maybe we need another field another shepherd, and eventually either we find a grass that is delicious for us, we make our own special blend of grasses or we find a new field altogether.

The Teachers that I respect the most are those that empowered me, not controlled me, those that were sharing all they had without holding back, that were willing to show me all there is, and accept me for who I am.

My joy, my Zen, my understandings cannot be taken away from me, as they are my own experiences, not my teachers or masters. I have learned a great deal from my teachers and masters, but it is through my own practice, my own experience and my own realizations that I have come to be what I am.

I am grateful for the past, for teachers and traditions, and I am grateful for life offering me direct experiences to know what is truly right for me, for my body for being a joyful human in service.

Renouncing

2009-01-11T15:47:00.000-08:00

I renounce Judaism, renounce my Israeli title, Renounce great material things and renounce poverty.
I am not anti Judaism, nor anti Israel. I am not, pro Israel, nor am I pro Palestine.
I am, not because I think, not because I work, see or smell. I am.

Choosing a side is choosing violence. Seeing whole and allowing freedom, understanding the conditioning of all, the projections and the fear, being whole with one self, one becomes free and freedom expands from there on.
Knowing this and yet understanding that in daily life actions are happening, arms are fired, weapons are used. There are immediate reactions, anger arises, and especially when close family is danger or even hurt. What to do?

There is conflict. “Conflict arises from self-centered concern” (J. Krishnamurti. The fragmentation, the dividing of you and me, of them and us, create fragmented unions of groups, societies, and nations.

Creating outer changes, trying to look for solutions from the outside, may come from a place of not being capable of change within. The outer change, at times guided by teachers, parents, society, priests or any other authority, is mostly a change based on belief. Instead of believing, lets try to experience. We can listen to guidance, try it out on ourselves and see what holds true for us. Once experiencing is there, we no longer try, just be. There is an understanding, a manifestation of what is.

A message from my insurance company gives tips on how to deal with the anxiety and stress coming from the situation around the globe. Life is changing every moment. One day we have more and another less, one day our neighbors are nice to me and another I perceive them as hostile. Can I accept these changes? Notice if they arise from within my mind, am I adding value to events that are passing by, It is not about putting a band-aid, instead lets find the root cause, understand who am I?

My Dad used to say “Better be smart than right ”. True, he was talking about driving. I remember when I just got my license, and as I was driving our white Audi 80, coming into our street, another car, a red small one, tried to sneak in from the side and go ahead of us.
Knowing that I had the right, and the car needed to wait as it had a yield sign, I downshifted gear and stormed ahead. It was close but I won. 20 years later, I understand what my dad meant. What would I rather, be right and get into a possible accident or let the car go, stay calm and smile with compassion.

This is not a political statement. This is just an observation, just what comes to me now as I head to bed.

Sacred Land

2008-12-29T16:08:00.000-08:00

It’s a sunny winter day. Riding my bike along the gorgeous coastline of Big Sur. The light this time of year has a unique quality; great dark rocks rise from the ocean, super crisp against the deep blue ocean. Blue sky, soft streaks of clouds get cut off by a dramatic line of dissolving white fluff a silent commercial jet plane leaves behind.

As I lean into the curve on my Suzuki Katana 750, a wide wing bird takes a deep dive to its pray. I hear the sound of the waves crashing the cliffs mixed with the Katana’s engine as I twist the handle to accelerate coming out of the curve.

After buying some fuel at Big Sur at almost double the price of Monterey, yet still half the price of a gallon at Esalen, I head back and stop at the bakery for a cup of coffee and a croissant. On the wooden bench in front of a long natural curved wooden table lay the New York Times. I read it front to back leaving only the sports section out, getting a sense of the whole entire world, I contemplate the place I am now.

Air strikes fly over Gaza, while I look over the peaceful mountains of Big Sur. People consider this land sacred. Others consider the land in Jerusalem to be sacred.
Here it seems people tend to the land and try to preserve it as much as possible because it is sacred. In Israel (or Palestine) people shed blood, for it is sacred.

“It is the ancient Indians that made this place sacred” told me a friend a few days ago. I assume they decided it to be sacred for the richness of the land, for the hot springs, and streams, for the Great Ocean, and dramatic coastline. Then, is it the beauty, the abundance or the intention of the people that make the land sacred? In Israel it seems to be memory; history, which is part of the past, religions that relay on the past as part of its presence. A connection to people that lived on that land, people that had rituals, experiences, lives and deaths on that land.
Can any land be sacred? Can I create a magnificent garden with a huge dramatic rock in the center and call it sacred, a place for people to come and worship peace? This place will be sacred to all, to anyone that wishes to be there in peace.

It seems to me that when one place is declared as sacred, it assumes another is not. Sacredness creates duality, a sense of priority over another.
Do I take care of Big Sur better than I take care of NY? Just because NY might host more greed, or might have more concrete, do I spit my gum on the sidewalk?

What if we treated all land as sacred? Took care of everything we see with care and respect. By not choosing, not taking sides; can there be more harmony, more equal care and understanding. Can we accept differences without needing to change, to control or project our point of view?

It starts with me, here at this table, accepting the SUV’s arriving to fill up their tanks, greeting them with the same warm hello I great the Prius Drivers.
I shall keep riding my motorcycle for now, even as the weather is getting colder as my own act of freedom, my own little contribution to reducing consumption of oil.

I bundle up for the ride back, grateful for the hot natural spring baths that await me at the end of the ride.

The Gratitude List

2008-12-28T10:57:00.000-08:00

Every day I remember people in my life, I remember why I am grateful for knowing them, I feel blesses for what they have shared with me. Spending time together as family, friends or colleagues, new perspectives have been brought to my attention. Happy moments, a listening ear, great talks, trust, a teaching about patience…
I find it wonderful to add a person or two daily, just to keep me in the gratitude mode. Feels like my heart is now borderless, hugging the infinite from all sides ☺, encompassing the seed and the fruit.

The list is constantly growing. I have posted just a few as samples while I keep the list on my own records.

Sara H: the ability to move on and teaching me it is never too late, being an angel in my life.
Shlomo H: Family, friends and family again
Coby H: knowing there is someone to count on
Yossi H: living life, family first, appreciating the details
Gil H: Patience, acceptance, and goodness, being my best friend
Eli W: friendship, artistic love and values
Solo M: endless talks, assertiveness, openness
Eran Y: exploring the meaning of life, realizing death
Oren A: simplicity, acceptance, love of science and the nature world
Amir C, dedication to art, loyalty, sticking to values
Cheli W, kindness, humbleness and endless laughter
Yotam C: friendship and following the heart
Doron P: always pushing for more creative work, never afraid to explore deeper
Peta C: living simply, family and friends first, caring for change
Tamar K: love with no terms, honest compassion
Hadas R: a growing up stimulation and teaching me the value of partnership
Keren G: being kind, adventuress and inspiring
Keren C: being my teenage romance
Amnon H: ultimate friendship with no terms
Kelly A: kindness, softness, the love to share with those in need
Adarsh W: dedication and humbleness
Helleen W: love, friendship and acceptance
Tony W: spending some fantastic times in Boulder
Richard M: creative trust in me
Fiona W: generosity and the ability to communicate without words
Ross S: generosity and the will to look inside
Richard F: reminding me the essence of things
Mary T: showing me a true Bodhisattva
Murray S: sharing with me so many NY moments
Yael G: Not to take myself too serious
Amber: no judgment, just listen
Elie T: trust in young talent
Tat L: giving with no terms. Understanding without words
Tamar H: Never giving up on love
Delphine: Romance, the touch of hearts
Shai S: friendships are timeless
Dan A: respect to friends
Uri D: Friendship, giving because a friend needs
Orly D: Joy, movement, care, dance, and love
Narasimha: What a true teacher looks like, brightness
Shugen: service, the art of selflessness
Tom: Instant generosity
Elly: the light of love, freedom, the meaning of a touch
Jeremy T: Total friendship, openness, dealing with truth
Jennifer L: High five, sharing of self
Tamar M: Family, love is of many types
Arletty: a moment, love and care, beauty and a shine
Irit A: sharing, friendship Israeli style
Nirchukah: the meaning of family, trust, love
Daniel sun: values, family, care, and humbleness
Shahar H: joy, optimism, smiles and the love of love
Or H: dedication, persistence
Noga H: Love for those in need, service, dedication
Dod Micha: simplicity, love of travel, curiosity, and knowledge
Joe R: sangha, dedication, dance
Laura D: Listening, boundless friendship, kindness, trust,
Elly K: Limitless love, communication, compassion

The Free Box Fashion Show

2008-12-22T15:39:00.000-08:00

Monday 4:00 pm, I walk into Huxley (the largest meeting room at Esalen), and I see Mac building the stage. 4x8 feet sheets of wood about two feet high, colored in blue. It looked large and “chubby”. I wanted a more slender look to allow for voluptuousness to walk on it freely.
We rearranged the stage to a T shape, with a little round finish at the tip. We didn’t have much to work with. This was a production made of all we can gather from the kindness of others.
Kyleigh and myself, the organizers of this fashion show, were intending to make it a fun and good-looking fashion show, a celebration, an evening of light and festivities.

Esalen has a beautiful concept that functions amazingly – the free box. There are two spots near both laundry centers, where people are welcome to leave anything they no longer need. Mostly clothes and accessories occupy the space, but one might find books, DVD’s, a speaker, cream, make up and many other surprises.
It is a spot of free exchange. No need to throw away. What doesn’t fit you today might be just right for me. Got tired of that dress, leave it in the free box; someone will make good use of it. Whatever is not taken within a month goes to goodwill, a big store for used clothing.

So this fashion show is not about buying expensive clothes, not about showing off the latest trend, but about expressing, about reusing, being creative, and pushing the edge.
Pearl brought us fabrics that we used as a shining drape for a backdrop and as a skirt for the whole stage. A long rope light dressed the upper edge of the stage, colored gels were added to the spotlights already hanging, Christmas light were thrown under the stage behind the fabric to add sparkle, and Anthony shared some of his DJ party lights.

While setting up, Susan was playing some fun tunes for us, others were giving a hand in setting pillows around for the audience, last minute recruiting of hair and make up talent to help those getting ready, and even a few people just trying out the catwalk.

After dinner Huxley was full of people. The office, and bookstore were converted into back stage dressing rooms, and the action was happening. A fabulous woman that in daily life appears as a powerful man, the hippies and 60’s group representing the origins of Esalen, the glittery shining group with sparkles and sequences, The Gods and Goddesses with other mythology creators walking with glory, the ultra sexy people that came up and shared their love, the Burlesque act and the Esalen Parade.
The music was rocking, the crowd was cheering, and the runway walkers performing, the whole room felt like a celebration, a beautiful feast of lights, décor and glamor, of hand made outfits that looked so delicious, of human potential living life, revealing its love for joy and party.

Thank you all who helped make this happen, Great feedback was still floating around a week after.

Sustainable Yoga – The workshop

2008-12-22T12:02:00.000-08:00

Friday Eve, 8:30 pm, opening circle, different people from different places, with wide gamut of practices.
We are here to learn about Yoga, about creating a practice for life, a practice that involves the body, the breath, and an intention to be present. To use only what needs to be used when is necessary. The mind sits still when there is no need to think. The legs rest when there is no need to walk.

Realizing that even though we all have a basic element that is the same as each other, we also have a physical construction and constitution that is unique. A body type that has specific needs, unique qualities that allow for certain characteristics to be more defined, more emphasized.
After looking at out body types from an Ayurvedic approach, we see how this relates to our practice. “ There many elements that we need to consider time and time again. The weather, the surroundings, how we feel at this moment, how do we want to feel after the practice…and all these elements flux on a regular basis…so to really have a safe practice, a practice that can last throughout life with joy and ease…There is no other way but to be your own master, to learn for yourself what is right for you. My intention is to provide tools to help you clarify for yourself what is right and safe for you at any given moment.”

The weekend flowed from Asana (yoga poses) practice, to breath, from alignment to understanding our body types and needs within the movement; a practice of fire, or creating energy, or one of slowing down of grounding. We learned the practice of the Big S – surrender, and related philosophy into our presence.

Friends commented on how glowing I am, or the light they see in me, I smiled as I know this is all thanks to the practitioners, their dedication and love, to those that came to study and share their energies.

The weekend went by very fast. It was just a moment ago that I was sitting in a Gestalt group (see previous blog entry), and now I was completely in the teachings of yoga and life. And just as the weekend ended, it flowed into staff week, into the free box fashion show, a whole new atmosphere (see next entry).

The Hot Seat is open -Home and choices

2008-12-20T09:37:00.000-08:00

The hot seat, sometimes known as the open seat is the cushion one sits on in a circle of people with a facilitator, from which they get to share their present state of awareness. This present state might be a reflection of the past or the thinking mind bringing up memories or other such desires, aspirations or issues one might be struggling with.

This is a Gestalt workshop with Chris Price. A week with a graceful, compassionate leader, offering her attentiveness, love, and support with the utmost generosity.

The first couple of days we met we learned tools to use in this particular form of exploration. Then we opened the seat up, and one at a time we got to witness someone’s work.

Thursday morning. I take my seat on the hot seat, and notice my breath, my body and the environment. Scanning the room, I look at each person sitting in the circle, taking a moment to really connect.

The time I sat on the seat seemed timeless. I felt clear and light. Chris put her hands on my chest or back as support.

“I feel expansion, space, seeing widely, a sense of calmness, of flying. Yet there is an instinct that is searching for a place to land. I am not sure where that place is”.
I pause for a moment to feel that statement in body.

“ There is joy that exists and is not dependent on anything. It is life itself. This joy, this force keeps me going. At a certain point in life I chose it. I saw death; I was tempted by it and chose life. Now when I see death, it does not seem like a bad thing anymore. It is just there, same as life. There is no choosing anymore.”
As I sit, breathing, seeing the whole of the room, people sitting appear to me to have their attention towards me.

“ Take a moment to feel how this feels in your body” Chris tells me.
“ My hands reach towards the earth (well the carpet really) sliding up and down, feeling the earth, the base. My fingers move in a claw motion, feeling, like gathering.

“What are your hands saying, can you speak from the hands’ place? Hands can you talk to us?” Chris asks.
I smile for a moment. “ We are looking to gather these twigs. We want to offer them to you Doron, but don’t know where to bring them. “A nest, would love to have a nest, a place to come back to.”
When I mentioned something similar to a friend, he said that he always had a nest and was always afraid to fly. Now that he hears me, he realizes that the nest allows him to fly even higher, since he has where to come back to.
Is this sensation just a notion of the functioning world? What is this need of? Is there a lacking?

“What is important for you when you think of a place to live in?”
People, I answer without thinking much. “Friends, family, community. I want to be in a place where I can give the biggest hug and have it welcomed.”
I enjoy where I am. I am happy everywhere I go. But I want to feel a sense of connectedness, maybe belonging.
I am now is a place where I can take care of myself, stay in this good state I’m in and still be of service. My origins, my home place, where I come from, is a place with deep connections, with people that need me, yet a place that will be much harder for me to take care of myself. Can I be fully of service when I am in more of a challenging position? I know that wherever I go I will be able to be of service, so how are choices made?”

“How have you made choices in the past?”

“I set an intention. I see in my mind many of the possible options, and then I let it go. I know I can’t make a decision at the moment so I make the whole range clear, and when the time is right, the decision just happens. I know what to choose.
In a way it is what I am doing now. I find curiosity to understand this decision process, especially when it is related to finding a home.

I sit still again.

An image of a ship in the ocean appears. It has an anchor and a rope that connects it to the anchor. The rope seems to be endless. Having limitless length to go as far as I want. I am the ship and I can float or even fly as far as I wish. Complete freedom. The rope is like my connection to the womb, to an endless dark womb, dark in a good way. In an infinite way, where everything is unknown and everything is possible. The rope keeps me connected. I can pull it, and pull it, till I arrive back to my anchor. Is this rope a need for safety? I have always enjoyed complete freedom, enjoyed life on the edge, feeling good with any risk, being fearless. So this anchor, this nest serves as something else; A base, a place that will allow me to go deeper and be available to be of more service.

I feel radiant, a glow. No answer, no mind, just sitting there seeing the rest of the group.
They offer me echoes, words, sentences, pieces that touched them, which they remember.

I listen with a smile. Who was it just speaking? I bow with gratitude. Thank you all for holding the space, thank you Chris for you true presence and compassion.
Thank you all that read my blog.

The gift of NY - the people

2008-11-04T15:26:00.000-08:00

Front row of economy class, sitting with extra leg room in a metal tube, flying west.

Walking the streets and avenues of the city I know so well, observing the people, the greatest gift of NY; such a marvel of demographics, of color and accents. I watch as the moda of the 80’s creeps as zippers on jackets, as scarves, big necklaces and sunglasses adorn skin and clothes, adding accents, color, and design to already somewhat bright colors.
Leggings are everywhere, covered by tight super short skirts or dresses, like a stretched long T-shirt, paired with a pair of boots that either fold down as an accordion without sound, or have an extra long flashy zipper from bottom to top, like a seem on a hosiery on the back of the leg
Seems like so many have a fashion statement of a sort. Most women are wearing boots and heels, leaving me a sense of joy and glory at the beauty of the legs. Being a teenage in the 80’s I cannot help but be nostalgic. I admit it looks much sexier at my age and without adding the 80’s hairdo much prettier.

Like my artwork, like my life, this trip unfolded as an exploration of body and mind.

Silence and concentration as a young handsome man does a one-hand handstand on a little pole, splitting his legs apart, to the joy of the crowd. He wears little and white, exposing skin that is being stretched by muscle work and veins.
A hula-hoop master feels like Betty Boop, and a blond and a brunette fly up high in the open space of the striped blue and yellow tent flexing hips and extending legs, flying in coordination. The beautiful tan long legged brunette hanging off the bent leg of the petite blond. Living life to its fullest, flying with no security net.
Desir, a show at south street seaport hosts an exposition of body possibilities. Physic and concentration make this a Cirque de soleil wanna be.

Saturday at the Zen temple, sitting silently doing nothing. Breathing happens. Feels like home, so many familiar faces. Sharing lunch, I meet smiling faces that were in residence with me either at the temple or the monastery. The still body, the tired body from not sleeping much, the joyful mind, the space, the…

Halloween night (yes, this is not in order…) is a night of covering up, of new identity, a night to wear another layer of masks, to make believe, to bring desires to life, or hide. A night to allow one to be free from social codes, or is it?
As Lisa says: “A time to let what needs to die –die, and a chance to recreate that which has died and needs a rebirth.”
No masks for me, just a layer of urban elegance to cover up, as I join Tamar for a quiet night at BLT fish, a beautiful gourmet fish restaurant. Outside the remaining of the parade is still walking around, 5th avenue moves slowly. The Tuna tartar arrives on ice, with home made chips. Good touch of lemon. My swordfish was marinated in curry and then topped of with salsa, light with hint of spice, leaving the swordfish to still have presence. We sit at a corner table right by the open kitchen.
The wine is smooth, red, with fruit and a medium body. Enough to leave legs on the glass, but light enough to match the fish. “Should we drink White” Tamar asked.
I realize I have no more “shoulds” in life. Only being honest and sincere with what feels right. And red felt right in the cold NY eve.

The cab ride home flowed slowly through the busy east village, where the land of dress up seemed to be most at play. At this hour it was like a wax museum of humans standing at the curbs, freezing…waiting.
I could not help but notice that most female costumes, no matter what they were, were very sexy and seductive. Nurses with tiny little white outfits and large red crosses, super woman in a super short mini skirt, cats and cat women, being more like sex kitties, angels, fire women, sexy devils…or is it just my perception?
I smiled, enjoyed and watched, like swimming in a moving yellow aquarium with windows. Noticing how at every red light, people intoxicated leaning, falling, fighting for the impossible cab.

Being in NY as a visitor has such beauty and freedom. Apart from dropping off an art piece at a gallery in the lower east side for a show in December, all else was open. I realized that my favorite things to do are wonder the streets, watch people and flirt with some fashion stores, taste new flavors, do Yoga and see a few friends. Only what time allows. Staying with Jen in Carol Gardens opened a whole new flavor of NY to me. The larger homes and smaller buildings, the trees and little gardens, the sidewalks that have room to walk, and invite a slower pace.
Brooklyn is rich in many little moms and pops shops and restaurants, a delight of creativity, a feeling of a neighborhood and friendships.

I went to a variety of Yoga studios n the City. All ones I’ve never practiced at before. I attended Kirtan at Jivamhukti and Dharma Mitra Yoga, but have not practiced Asana there.
It was a delight to taste new flavors, Practice with new teachers, and reaffirm that the way I teach feels right for me, and is surely my way. A unique way, that stands on the shoulders of my teachers. Inspired by many great, and synthesized into a truth that flows through me, like many rivers into an ocean, where the drops no longer belong to anyone.

I practiced at Eddie Stern’s studio in the Soho, and got to see some friends from NY and from Mysore, India. The Ashtanga community is a small one, where a similar face always appears.

Yoga Sutra, on 5th and 42nd, across from the NY public library, and half a block form my old office at Tahari, is a whole floor of 3 yoga studios. It is sweet to see how NY is now floured with Yoga on every corner, the need to balance the work life with some peace.
I must say though, that most classes I’ve taken have felt to me as creating more Vata imbalance
(Vata being the air and space element, the movement aspect in Ayurveda), strong classes for A type people, Lots of distraction, music, words, fast pace…I always leave a Yoga class feeling good because of the body work, but only sometimes do I leave levitating thanks to a graceful teacher allowing space for grounding, for connecting with the breath, permitting surrender and letting go.

Wearing my new black hoody with extra silver zippers cutting the cotton in an angle, I leave NY. I feel gratitude for the entire people roaming this city. For all those that shared moments with me (even if I have not mentioned their names here), for the generosity of my host, and for random encounters that make NY such a fabulous place.

Blissful Living - Yoga and Nutrition - The workshop

2008-10-28T11:56:00.001-07:00

How was it? I keep being asked?
It was one of the best weekends of my life! I had so much fun. I enjoyed the energy of the group, the practice, and was super surprised at the amount of info I carry with me. Good thing we do not need to buy more hard-drives for all that our mind holds. It would be nice to see my hard drives creating new cells within themselves when new info arrives.

Friday, October 24th, 12 participants and my self were sitting in a circle and meditating. Sitting tall sharing the same air, breathing in and out as the energies merge.

While creating the workshop, I tried to imagine the perfect workshop for me. What would I really want to see in a workshop? Weekend workshops always seem quick to me, and rarely do I feel we went deep enough.
So Friday night after a brief introduction of each other, and an intro to the weekend, we dived right in. Filling out an Ayurvedic body type questionnaire, and then a talk. I presented the Blissful Living approach I’ve been cultivating and working on for the past16 years. A lot of info was shared in a very relaxed way.
We finished class with half an hour of restorative Yoga, getting ready for a hot tub or sleep.
Since I wanted to give more “meat” to Friday, I offered an optional blissful Yoga class in the afternoon. And oh did we go deep!

Saturday we had two sessions during the day, 3 hours each. We practiced Pranayama, Asana (poses), and meditation and studied more about nutrition. It was a beautiful combination.

Saturday eve, as an optional gathering, we met for a free form dance session. ( I was the DJ….some 70’s, 80’s and electro music blend…)
An hour and a half of complete let go, just pure fun, completed with Savasana (the corpse pose).

Sunday was mostly Asana, and a closing circle.
We sat close, felt each other, just a weekend passed, but it felt very solid.
Words were thrown into the circle: “gratitude, calm, happy, dark leafy greens, courage, permission, love, MSM, balance…”

During the next day or two, I noticed how the participants were moving with awareness towards nutrition and a healthy life style; the food plates were colorful and had raw and greens, others went and bought some supplements, I saw herbal tea replacing coffee, sitting quietly outside and chewing food longer, drinking water with full attention, I see organic discussions happening in the lodge, talk about fermentation and raw dairy…

A feeling of joy, surrender and satisfaction comes over me. I have found my calling.
Teaching and sharing with others is the greatest gift I have received.
I now follow the footsteps of my parents, both educators. Both are people, who have had the idea of sharing, teaching and celebrating with others a mission.
Sing along at home with more people that can ever fit in (“if there is room in the heart there is room in the house”, they used to tell me), dancing down fifth Avenue in NY, my Mom led her folk dance group in the late 60’s, teaching in JCC’s and bringing tours to Israel, my Dad still has people who talk about him with great appreciation decades later.
It is the teaching with compassion, finding the middle way, and accepting change even within the teachings that is the light to my teachings.

Thank you all those that attended, those that shared their encouragement before the workshop, and those that inquired after.

Thank you all that made this possible, and those that help this carry on.
December 12 is my next weekend workshop.
May I always be of service to others.

The meaning of Meaningful

2008-10-17T08:42:00.000-07:00

(A half fiction situation with fiction names)

“I have a feeling that everything I do needs to be meaningful. When I am engaged in an activity I feel like it should serve some sort of purpose. Having spent the time in a useful manner”
I spoke these words with a group of friends, asking if anyone thinks there is a problem with that.
Looking deeper into what I just said, I realized that what I considered as meaningful is if the next day I would not have feelings of regret or guilt towards the time spent doing whatever it might be I was doing.
“I just went through a period in which I would wake up at 11:00am every day, do Yoga, and watch hours of TV. I felt that it was very meaningful as through that I managed to deal with the heartbreaking separation of the love of my life” said Heather.
Do we need to save the whales in order to be doing something meaningful?

“ I love to take long showers and just stare at the wall, that doesn’t seem meaningless to me, as I feel that it helps me with what ever bigger task I may have later.” “I love staring at the wall too” said another.
“I do meaningless things all the time. Just let me built a dirt bike and then drive it through the mountain paths” this gives me so much joy, what can be more meaningful than that?

Is it considered meaningful according to the outcome of the action or is the action itself what makes it meaningful?
If it is according to the outcome, Is it important that others benefit from it, or can it be meaningful even if the outcome is of benefit to me alone?

Doing something that brings me Joy, can be meaningful to me, as well as bring benefit to others by me being a source of joy to others. As long as I do not do anything that might hurt or harm anyone or anything else.

Doing something that leads me to become a better person, either physically, mentally, emotionally or intellectually is meaningful to me, as again it will lead me to be joyful and of service to others.

Meaningful is very individual. Indeed there are some social codes of what is meaningful (like saving the whales or getting another degree) yet on an every day life, the meaning of time spent in a certain way is dependent on how one feels during, after and long after the time spent. (One might enjoy drinking with friends tonight but have a hang over the next day. If done very often, may even lead to great liver issues years later). Is the outcome of the time spent meaningful in a sustainable way? Benefit for now, tomorrow and further…
It can be an action or a non-doing.

After struggling with this questions for six months now, I realize that I participate in many activities, including sitting still and doing nothing. Yet even this is done with an intention to just be, not hang out as to pass time, but be here and now, with out relation to time and space.

Joy, gaining knowledge, practicing self-realization and maintaining a healthy body and mind are all of substance to me. I can reflect back and feel that my day was worth living. Not another day, or time that passed by. A meaningful day, a day that when `lying in bed before sleep, makes me smile and feel content.

What is a meaningful way for you to pass time?

Wednesday, October 1st, Esalen life

2008-10-16T21:25:00.000-07:00

4:45, I open my eyes to see sparkling stars within the darkness. The days are shorter, and the mornings are dark. The skylight reveals a clear sky, probably a sunny day ahead.
I prepare quietly as my roommate sleeps below, hop on my black Suzuki Katana (motorcycle), and head to the main property a mile down the road.

I peek into Huxley, the room where I’ll be teaching later to make sure it looks OK.
Down to the tubs, soaking in darkness with a vast dark sky above.
I take a quick cold shower and walk up to Huxley, the large room where my Yoga class is held.
I prepare the room, and then do my own practice till 7:15. Students arrive slowly and join me in meditation. By 7:30 the class begins. Blissful Yoga.
“Beautiful” I say as I see someone that cannot flex deeply but tries to go deeper with her breath. Breathing in, she lengthens and opens just a tiny bit more, but for her, the sky has opened.
After the silent and powerful Savasana (corpse pose where all are laying and resting), I put mats and props away, give hugs, exchange gratitude and get breakfast. It’s Wednesday and Sheila made her raw Muesli. Yum!

Before 10:00 I walk on the little bridge over the creek and head to the dance dome. Dancing with Vin Marti - Soul Motion, a seven-day dance workshop. What joy to move so freely, to connect so intimately with others, to be alive and grateful for this body.

“Feel your feet, where are you now. Feel your hands, your sky dancers. Your breath, how are you breathing now? See the space around you. Soft gaze.”
Vin has this remarkable way of connecting the dance with awareness, with being in the present “what is happening now? Right now?”
We are 45 dancers of all ages, moving flowing alone and with each other.
At times dancing with a guided instruction, maybe with someone else or a group, at times dancing, just moving, inside with an awareness of the space, of the canvas we dance in.

12:30 I head back, get a quick lunch and into the kitchen. It’s my Chef night at Esalen. I am still in training, but really, get to be the Chef.
Wednesdays are fish nights at Esalen, and as a fish lover, I feel fortunate to serve the community healthy delicious meals.
Local fresh sea bass brought over by the fisherman himself is served with a maple ginger tamari glaze, topped with fennel. A kabucha (Japanese squash) miso soup, greens wilted in a warm Dijon vinaigrette, and brown Basmati rice with scallions accompany the fish. Tofu with the same glaze topped with red bell pepper julienne and sunflower sprouts is the veggie option.

Running the kitchen while preparing the food fills m heart with a sense of service. As people are enjoying dinner I peak out to the lodge and smile. Gordon Wheeler the CEO and president of Esalen, comes in to the kitchen to thank and compliment me.

Wednesday October 1st, thank you for so much opportunity.

Blissful Living

2008-09-15T10:35:00.000-07:00

A few new tasks came to life in the past few weeks.
Doing some cleanup, either posting camera equipment on eBay or finding people to give clothes and art to. Updating my computer skills and software, learning Aperture, Bridge and Dreamweaver. Getting ready to bring my stock photography back to life.
Working on the detailed sessions of my “Photography beyond the eye” workshop, as well as now, creating a web page for two Yoga workshops I will lead at Esalen this fall. The art of sustainable living though Yoga and Nutrition
At ESALEN OCT 24-26
So yes, I am still here at Esalen. Cooking in the kitchen is wonderful. I have been in charge of the salad bar, both hot and cold, and also training as a chef here. It is wonderful to have opportunity for so much creativity while nourishing over 300 people. The kitchen has been very supportive, and I thank all those that are constantly willing to share with me.
My mom Sara was here at Esalen in August, “a little paradise” she kept saying. She soaked in the baths, went for walks, did her Soduko, read and went swimming.
Seeing her swim on a few foggy days inspired me, and I have been moving through water much more since. Toda Ima!

Last night I soaked in the baths for an hour, gazing at the sun as it set between Japanese like painted clouds, then went up to the lodge to pick up a nice plate of Vietnamese noodles with spring rolls. It’s hard to have all the yummy options around, especially since I’ve been eating mostly raw recently. Esalen has a lot of healthy, fresh organic choices, but surely has lots of meat and dairy options as well.

I have met so many fantastic new people here, while still feeling all the fabulous encounters from India and all my life long friendships. Keeping all close to heart. Sorry if not all get emails and constant contact as I am blessed with so much love, and even as a type A Gemini, I find it hard to keep up.

I sleep in a loft bed where there is enough room for a little computer area at floor level, books, and meditation space. Above my bed (nice mattresses on the carpet) is a big skylight. The moon appeared very round and bright the past few nights, so I got to sleep with its soft cool light flooding in. when it slims down, the stars appear bright, and I go to sleep smiling, remembering how tiny I am in this grand universe, and how huge when thinking of millions of probiotics in a little capsule.

I plan a short visit to New York At the end of October. Get some city flavor after all the nature at Esalen…This trip is much thanks to Jen deciding that I need to come and cook for her…
Love you all!

A day at the races

2008-08-11T19:24:00.000-07:00

The sea of motorcycles that covered the earth that day had a fantastic exhilarating affect on my inner blood flow towards my brain and the muscles that pulled my lips towards my ears.

We parked my Katana 750 alongside some serious 1400cc Kawasaki monster, and headed towards the track. The sound of motors running at high rpm’s was speeding from one ear to another. What is it about these two wheelers hitting the curve, going sideways, knees scraping the earth that is so fascinating to so many people?
The Monterey peninsula, beautiful land, and some great curvy roads along highway 1 that draws bikers from all over the world to watch the grand Prix. This is the Formula 1 of the motorcycles” told me Carl earlier this weeks as he realized I had no idea about all this, even though I ride a bike as a main means of transportation.
Carl owns his own sporty yellow Italian two-wheeler, unlike my “rice cooker” as Fi would call it.
Jen and I drove out through the splendid curves of Highway 1 Saturday morning. That’s after Jen swore never to be on the bike with me unless it were in a foreign country.
So thanks Jen for the trust, and sorry for the scary moments.
Along the drive riders greet each other with a left hand wave (the right has to keep accelerating J). The hand goes down and by the side of the bike (less wind) either in a peace sign or as if to give a low five. It’s a great feel to be able to wave and receive hellos from people I have no idea who they are. Not only do I not know them, but also I can’t even see their faces. Are they young, old, Asian, nerdy, beautiful, almost hard to know if it’s a male or female.
After we got our fix of super sound and super speed, of crowd and a feel of a big fair, we drove down to quiet and quaint Carmel for Sushi Heaven. A little Japanese place that looks and feels like a local “Mama sun” in Kyusho (the south Island of Japan), a place I would go eat where the main woman behind the counter is like a mom to many needy customers.
I had to have a spicy tuna roll for Zohar’s sake, as that is all he would order if he were there by me.
It is really refreshing to eat out after being used to getting 3 meals a day at Esalen. Meals that I can count on being served at the same time and place every day, rich with options, including a huge salad bar, always an option for plain brown rice, raw veggies, and the surprise of the main dish the Chef has made for the day.
Back to the land of plenty where the kitchen gets its vegetables from the garden just a little stroll away, where my commute is a two-minute ride or a thirty-minute walk, I smile at the contrast of the races compared with the hot tubs.

Ashes like snow

2008-07-16T17:18:00.000-07:00

Fitting my long duffle bag under the stroller in the back of Adarsh and Heleen’s car, we head off to Monterey Tuesday Morning. After a must stop at Acme coffee, a “bikers” coffee shop in seaside, we head to the beach. “its the best coffee” tells me Adarsh he veggie Yoga teacher. Real good coffee, roasted on the spot drip or tap.

I watch Adarsh hold his son Evan, both their blue eyes merge with the ocean, while hearing beautiful Heleen talking about how good her life is, a real appreciation for the little things.
They drop me off at Costco where I join Philip for the town run. It’s my first visit to a Costco, the super size discount store. I drive the super-size shopping cart while Philip shows his membership card.
We load up booze, as tonight at Esalen there will be the decompression party. I chose a good night to return. A couple more stops on the way and we head towards Carmel to pick up fresh pasta. “I’ll meet you back here in 10 minutes” I tell Phillip as I run to The American art gallery, where my art is being shown these days. Alik is behind his desk, and a large 5x7foot canvas with my projection work on it lives on his wall beside him. Alik has more than 50 of my pieces so wish both of us good luck!

Hopping back on to the rented yellow van, Phillip and I head back to Esalen. At first I find myself wondering where was the fire. All looks good. Then, as we head further south, Philip points out where over 1000 firemen were camping. A bit further is the camp where the convict camp was, 500 Prisoners that came to fight the fires.

As we keep going south through this still very beautiful land, we start seeing spots where the fire hit. “ Some of the hills coming up look like covered with snow. The ashes create this layer of white with only burned trees sticking up from it.” Tells me Philip. Some white mountains appear in front of us, having their own unique beauty. Closer to the road mostly trees are still standing green. Patches of fire burnt bush appears, but beautiful trees still stand strong.
The ocean and the land are as beautiful as ever. I assume that behind the hills I see there are endless areas that are much more burnt. Near the road, where there are residents and properties, the area was well defended. Still 30 homes served as food for the hungry fire.

In most cases the fire came down the mountains towards the ocean. The fire rolls down much slower than it climbs (as heat rises), so even when fires were heading down towards Esalen or other properties it was easier to stop them

We are stopped for some minutes on the road as workers are preparing big fences to roll over the hills. The fire ate the shrub, and now nothing is holding the rocks and earth from sliding down to the road. Seems like the road might be closed again once the rains falls as for the landslide. Closer to Esalen I see the water lines leading to the water tanks, That was the big Esalen battle, where the fire had to lower its face with respect to the efforts of those working so hard to defend it.

Entering Esalen grounds my feelings are mixed with fear and excitement. I go straight to the kitchen and help unload the truck.
Walking around the grounds I see a leaf covered with ash. The garden is beautiful and the farm producing like never before. The trees beautiful, the ocean reflecting silver, the grass is till green, even though it is not of the neighbors.

Uncovering the motorcycle cover, a thin coat of ash is like a sheath to the bike. A smell that reminds me of the end of a long night around the bonfire fills me up with good memories.

On the door to my room there is a posted sign: “ Caution, rat traps around the room. 5 five”
I walk in with caution finding very little ash and lots of mouse poop. Pulling up my sleeves I get to work, some deep cleaning ahead before dinner.

After Dinner the party up at Fritz is already happening. The view to the ocean is as gorgeous as ever. A real nice bar is set at the entrance, with Matt the kitchen manager behind it, rocking like any superstar bartender in the meatpacking district of New York.

Never thought I’d be dancing till late on my first day of arrival, but I sure was shaking and grooving.
At 6:45am today I was already hitching a rde with Sheila the chef, on our way to prepare breakfast and lunch.

Now, after a long soak in the tubs, Its time to take back to my room some of the things that were moved from there when we were evacuated.

Esalen, beautiful as ever, intimate with no workshops happening till Friday, familiar yet I am still adjusting back.
What an amazing place, a community that sticks for each other, a place that cares, a land that filled with beauty and love.

Blessings to Boulder and Welcome to the Bay area

2008-07-08T10:32:00.000-07:00

The Harmonium filled the air with tunes accompanying Richards beautiful chant in Sanskrit.
We were brought back to life with the sound s of a singing bowl, deep, smooth and vibrating. Slowly coming out Savasana (the corpse pose, or final relaxation) we sat up, and stayed still for a moment, then, bowing with gratitude, to the teacher, fellow practitioners, to us for showing up, and to all beings.

The class seems to float out of the room. I look into friend’s eyes and realize, this is one of those moments where the whole class experienced something beyond words. A glow, a softness, seems like everyone was on drugs, a kind of joy that makes one want to smile for no reason, to do nothing and just appreciate the moment.

The following day, we met in the park to celebrate the end of the teacher’s intensive.
40 beautiful people from around the world, a moment ago strangers, now feeling a sweet connection, a knowing, a shared experience. Richard and Mary, our teachers for the month are now standing together, with two sweet smiles they have set a beautiful example.
Richard Freeman is a long time student of Yoga, a long time teacher, a dedicated practitioner, an amazing chanter, a source of inspiration and beautiful example of a true teacher.
Mary the compassionate bodhisattva, the one that ran the show behind the scene, the mother of us all, the care taker and the teacher, humble and shining, was there as the complimentary piece to Richard.
Beyond them as teachers it is an inspiration to see them as a couple. Like Fi said (more or less) “makes me want to grow old with someone”.

Apart from the Yoga, meditation and philosophy this past month was more than anything a month of gratitude towards people. Sharing the house with Fiona, Tony, Ross, and Marcus, with whom I’ve shared the same room, was such a unique experience. Each person filled with an amazing life story, many in transition (lots of ex high tech in the air), generous beings that are truly open to see what else is out there.
The evening walks to get food, the endless exploration of a pose and its alignment, philosophical discussions, traditionalism, food, nutrition, music, Californication (the TV series) nights, Fi’s famous south walnut Banana bread…

Boulder itself, the beautiful town that shared with me it’s running waters everywhere, its green, the nice little homes and the quaint city center has become a real home for this time.
Instead of skyscrapers as a backdrop, the mountains surrounding it let huge rock formations reach up in a beautiful carving. The parks, the outdoorsy feel, the bronze sculptures around town, the small rock gardens for children to play, fountains and live music on the promenade, lively bars next door to family restaurant, healthy café’s next to the Prana shop or Billabong, make the unique setting for this pretty homogenous town.
A mostly white town surrounded by cowboy country out side.

Denise the performer, the contortionist, the heart Yoga teacher, a dear friend (which one are you Denise?) drove me to the nice Denver airport, where after a coffee (for nostalgic NY reasons), I departed on my return flight to San Jose where Kelly picked me up. There is nothing like a loving familiar face when coming out of the airport. We drove to downtown Palo Alto and entered the fabulous Stanford theatre (showing movies since 1925), watched The Animal Crackers with the Marx Brothers from 1930, ate old-fashioned popcorn, and laughed out loud.
I shall be staying at Gil and Debbie’s place for a few days till the calming news about the Big Sur fire arrives. Seems like it's getting closer to closure.
So sweet to have family around, makes all the difference in the world.

Big Sur Fire

2008-06-28T09:33:00.000-07:00

“We took your art, your hard drive…motorcycle, California is on fire!”, the message was cut off. Michael my roommate is telling me what he is saving of my stuff, his tone of voice excited, as the area where we live in is being evacuated.
I am in Boulder hearing about the raging fires through media and friends. Visualizing the power, beauty and destruction of this great force through info I read on a digital screen.
Thousand of acres are burnt, homes gone, people working hard to try and keep it tamed. Helicopters, engines, human force and water team up. Fire, as part of nature does not seem to like to be told what to do, especially if the wind is on its side. It’s a cycle of nature, yet it feels different when it hits the area where one lives.

Esalen is now closed for visitors, and the road to it is blocked. Within this roadblock, Spirit Garden is hosting an art show of mine, which is still up (or maybe not?). Photos from Cuba with wooden frames and the (e)motion series printed on canvas, all yummy food for the fire.

Some weeks ago I was sitting with Jeremy, my friend at Esalen and we were talking about loosing all our possessions and how that would feel. I was visualizing a fire, and seeing that nothing is left. As real and good as my visual powers are, it is still very different than the real threat, of knowing that this could be it.
It’s a good reminder that things are exactly what they are - things. No more no less.

My heart goes to all those that are suffering in Big Sur, that are breathing the smoky air and helping calm down the fire. Blessings.

Cadavers, Meditation, Anatomy and the Body

2008-06-26T17:23:00.000-07:00

Sitting still, following the breath, the grass grows by itself. The stream outside flows softly, fish swimming with no direction. Art ideas flow to my mind, scrolls, bodies, and life stories, Lucian Freud, Francis Bacon, Buddha, my breath.
In and out it goes, softening the mind, softening the gaze, eyes open looking at nothing, gravity below, my sense of perception fades away, no eye or ear, no cushion no back no knee. Some time later the bell rings, and people get up to walk. I am back to my senses, filled with energy, clear, I find myself still sitting, another hour goes by timelessly, another bell rings, instructions for another type of meditation, I can’t hear, just watch softly, like a quiet, slow silent movie, I drop again, feeling myself dissolve, where do I go?
Last weekend was an intensive meditation weekend at Marpa house, a beautiful residential Shambala center. This followed some meditation classes we had at the huge and well-kept Shambala center in Boulder.

Is there a soul to this body? Are we just flesh and bones?
As we arrived to studio 50 in a commercial area outside Boulder, the smell of formaldehyde was in the air. The room, or big warehouse space rather, was very clean, high ceilings, and some black boards. In the far end I could spot two large metal tables with a top that looked like a shiny silver coffin.
Tod, the anatomy specialist gives us a long intro in preparation for the experience. We then put on white coats and gloves, almost like we were a bunch of doctors about to enter the surgery room.
We roll over the metal tables and some other tables that have blue or yellow plastic bags to the center of the room. These could easily be identified as containing bodies.
We start with Frank, then we look at William, the bodies have names, after death names. The bodies are real, but lying lifeless, somewhat dissected, there is something less human about them. The “life”, the energy is missing. Someone said the soul is missing. This body, 80 years old when it stopped functioning on its own, before it donated itself to science, was alive, moving, digesting, seeing, thinking, where is the thinker now? What happened to the memories? Are they stored in the non-functioning hard drive called brain? Were the feelings a matter of the sense organs only? What was the force that kept it going, and where is that force now?

Muscles, tendons, and bones, each cadaver is dissected to different layers. Digestive system comes out, I hold the pancreas, stretch the small (but long) intestine, hold a brain split in two, move the jaw as I look at the gold sitting on the teeth, touch the ribs and observe the pelvis.
The first moment at the cadaver lab, reminds me of identifying my dad at the morgue in the hospital in Be’er Sheva Israel, but there he was still in one piece. Back then I still had memories to tag to the freshly dead body. Sounds and touch I could still feel through my mind.
Then I let this memory go. The bodies in front of me, with all their history, are now just bodies. History behind they can almost seem like animal parts that I recognized at a hustling kitchen or a whole foods store.

Richard Freeman, our Yoga Guru (teacher) bends the bones of the leg to place them in Padmasana, the lotus sitting position, and a crack sounds, the meniscus was torn. Ouch, good thing there is no one to feel the pain anymore.
It’s another reminder that this body is not really ours. I remember walking into the super sanitized room where Eran, my dear friend was laying, Cancer swimming in his blood, tubes in his veins, and a look in his eyes so different than a few months earlier when we were traveling in the north east of the US.
Eran’s body was so different, was it still him? A week later Eran’s body stopped functioning. Where did Eran go? Did he stop functioning? Was there an essence, a “Purusha”, an ever-prevailing energy that slipped out of the tired body and kept going, formless. This body of ours, changes so easily all the time. So many of its functions happen without consulting with us. The breath flows in and out, the heart beats and we don’t need to think of it. At times our body weakens, and we feel sick. If this is our body, how can it be doing things we don’t want it to?
If we loose an organ or an arm, is it still our body? We can take another organ away, and another, at what point does it cease to be our body? We sure are the caretakers of this body, this functioning machine that hosts our sense organs, our brain and all the tools to function in this material world, but is this all we are?

Looking at my fingers as they type away, I smile with gratitude.

Yoga with Richard Freeman

2008-06-12T18:23:00.000-07:00

June 8th, Sunday morning, my birthday, sitting at the Yoga Workshop, Richards’s shala (practice room). The simple room, one large space is full of new faces sitting on Yoga mats awaiting the beginning of this month long teacher intensive.

Mary, Richard’s wife, gives a briefing on this coming month and before we know it Richard walks in. The room fills with a feeling of something great that just happened. Richard enters, great and simple, starts without too much talking.
Our mornings, which consist of some Asana (poses) practice, learning about alignment, adjustments, breathe and gaze, are followed by chanting and philosophy.
In the afternoons I take a Mysore style class, optional to the program.

The group is very international. Students from Greater China, Japan, Europe, NY, CA, Mexico, Canada and locals from boulder all unified with a set sequence of poses practiced daily around the globe. (The Ashtanga sequence)

Richard, calmly sits on his cushion, with clear eyes, guides us through the
Sanskrit pronunciation. Richard seems to have child like qualities, of love and excitement toward the little details.

Yesterday afternoon we walked over to the Shamabhala center to practice meditation.
I manage to walk everywhere here, such a wonderful feeling. Just take Pearl Street down one direction, and you hit a beautiful promenade, of downtown Boulder. The other direction will take you to a big shopping area including Whole Foods and the Mac store.
Walking along perfect sidewalks with green patches, brooks follow aside or cross under, and the Flat Irons, the famous Boulder Mountains rise up with pride, and together with the dramatic sky, frame the small population of Boulder (100,000 or so). A population that seems healthy and active for the most part. A very outdoorsy feeling, a college town, a town of yoga, massage, Rolfing, meditation and centers and Universities of alternative lifestyles.

I continue my tradition of constant summer that has been flowing through my life for over a year now. Here, the sun shines most of the time. Occasional winds or some threat of rain appear, but in general, it’s dry and beautiful, and my tan is still chocolaty or olive skin (is it really olive? Where does that come from?).
Happy to be here, to keep on studying and living life to it’s fullest. New ideas for workshops arise, and I hope to present them soon.

Experiencing God

2008-06-12T18:21:00.000-07:00

After talking about God, and how we connect from an existential place, I felt the need to share a bit of what my meditation world looks like.

I was first introduced to some active meditations at Osho’s Ashram in 1992.
The idea was that westerners have a hard time sitting still, and so as a first step of the meditation, we can learn how to be present with the movement we are doing, and then sitting and lying down in stillness becomes easier.

Other systems offer concentration techniques to train the mind into finding centeredness. A candle flame, a vision, a word or sound that repeats within the mind (mantra), or the breath are some points of attention to keep the mind from wandering.

After practicing in different ways, I found that the breath worked best for me. I have it with me always, and do not need the use of the mind or senses in order to be with it. At first my Zen teacher told me to count inhales and exhales up to ten. Start by inhaling – one, exhaling – two, inhaling – three, till I reach ten. If I loose my count, I just return to one.
After some time and practice, when this became comfortable, I was told to count each inhale and exhale as one, inhale and exhale two…This still uses the mind but helps it stay in one place.
Eventually letting go of the counting all together, and just dropping the awareness to the belly. Eyes opened, looking down towards the floor with a soft gaze. Sitting with a straight and relaxed spine, not doing anything.

Sitting still, and just observing, the mind, the eyes, the ears, all drop on their own, the separation of me and things I see and hear disappears, I, as I know it disappears, and a new state of consciousness is there.

Since sitting was never easy for me, doing nothing, a great task for me, I have learned to practice preparations for this in the functioning life.
My first practice was when I used to sit on my balcony in Tel Aviv while being an art student. A very big tree lived right in front of it, and I found myself many times sitting and watching it. Just looking at it. The feeling of no boundaries would arise, the tree would appear more dimensional than before, and time lost its meaning.
This first step in this kind of being is the art of non-labeling. Once I would recognize what I was doing, it was lost. The moment I thought,” the leaves are big”, or “this is awesome” it was gone. I’ve created a separation between the tree and me. It is only through the state of complete surrender, of Just Being, that this happens.
There used to be posters that looked like some unknown messy drawing. When one could stare at it, without focusing, without the mind and without trying to see anything, an amazing 3 dimensional image would appear. I find this to be somewhat similar in the way of letting go.
There is an intention involved, but there is no trying. The harder I try the further away I get, the more separation I create.
Who is trying? Who is there when no effort is involved?
Sitting still doing nothing the river flows on its own, the waves come and go and the earth spins.
Can we let go of controlling, of being in charge; can we just be an awareness, acceptance, leaving no footprint behind? Then we achieve it all. We have all that we could ever need.

God, why should I trust you?

2008-06-12T18:18:00.000-07:00

A friend wrote to me:

“I've been acting like there's no god and it's my job to fix everything and be in charge of everything and worry about everything and I know the next step is to take a leap of faith and trust in something bigger than myself so that I can give up all that futile control and actually feel alive. I feel like in choosing to trust in a higher power, I'm about to jump out of a plane and just hope that my parachute will open, but right now I don't really believe that it will. I've been living this story of if I don't hold everything together, I will die, but I see now that what's happening is that if I DO try to hold everything together, I will die. Because I've been clinging to everything pretty tightly and I feel pretty dead.

So that's the ugly spiritual dead zone I've stumbled into. I guess I am telling you this because sometimes I tell you things and I feel like I'm talking into a very clear lake and my problems just dissolve in you and then they don't seem so sharp and painful anymore. And also, I'd really love for you to help me understand what God even is or why I should trust something that I don't know about.“

God, spirit, matter.
How can one know God? What is God? Shall we ask, who is God?
We all agree there is matter. Even energy is pretty much a consensus these days.
Many have asked and wondered, could it be that we are only this? Only this body we see and feel, is the world only what we know from our sense organs?
Science will agree that beyond the senses there is energy. Energy is formless and moves in all direction.

Most spiritual systems, and religious streams, have agreed that there is something beyond matter. This something can be called God, this something might be more abstract than we can comprehend with our mind.

When we manage to know who we are beyond the mind, to go beyond our senses (including the mind), “realize” and know the true self, we discover a boundless source, we dissolve and merge with a field that is beyond time and space, an energy, God.

Does something happen when we discover God? Can we ask God for help?
Discovering God is discovering the true nature of things. It is seeing clear beyond the fog of the mind.
When seeing clearly, we find that we are not limited to the worries of the moment, that our being is more than the body we live in, that we are more than our profession or our relationships. Knowing that physically we all break down to cells that break down to energy, which flows throughout everything and everywhere, lets us understand (at least through the mind) that there is a connection, a part of “sameness” between us all (Some might call this the quantum field).
So how do we discover this GOD? This God is within us, it is part of us, and it is beyond us. Trusting oneself and the flow of energy that keeps moving into harmony by creating balance. Letting trust be part of us is not actively done. It happens when fear drops, when we no longer hold on to our perceptions, we can find liberation, a formless form of bliss.

I remember a Tibetan Meditation of “letting go”. Sitting down, closing the eyes, I visualize giving away all that I own; first physical things like clothes, furniture, car, house and yes, laptop. It took me some time to really be able to see all my life’s work on my computer disappear and be ok with it. Then, I started giving away my legs, arms, eyes (ouch), head, brain and mind. This took a while too. It did not happen in one sit.
What is left? What is it that exists in and beyond this matter? What is this force that is left. Who is the Witness?
Consciousness. What is this consciousness? Well, sit down and find out for yourself.

This is not a God that I ask forgiveness from. Not a God I worship, nor a God I fear.
This is a true power that is part of me, part of you, part of this floor I sit on, of the flower outside my window, and the moon reflecting on the ocean surface.

Knowing that we are this power, and that this power works here and now, from us and to us, we can be in a place of surrender with Power. No need to control anything or to force anything.
Intention is important, surrendering and allowing life take its course is important too.
I have an idea of what I want to do next, but I am accepting life as it comes, even if it does not meet my ideas of how I thought things might turn out.

Traditionally knowing God, or realizing oneself, ones true nature, is done by learning how to let the mind be still, be at rest when there is no need for it to work. It’s like learning how to let the legs be still when not walking.
In most eastern cultures, sitting with a straight spine, concentrating on one point is the first step. This is to train the mind to not wonder, to concentrate. Later we learn how to let go of the concentrating mind as well, as we drop into existence, into just being.

Holding on leads us nowhere. To live life fully we must embrace death as part of it, to understand that on a physical level we are dying every moment, and regenerating at the same time. If we realize who we are beyond this body, we can live life fully within this body, we can celebrate every moment of our existence, laugh and love fully and know that the power (God) is within each and every one of us.

Lets talk food...

2008-06-02T12:58:00.000-07:00

(As asked by Jen, with my reply below )

Are you a must be organic guy? Do you have anything you don't eat?
Likes…dislikes etc. Favorite food… favorite dessert…favorite
drink…

I am a man of no rules.

I try to eat mostly organic, local, sustainable and from small farms.
I eat mostly vegan, some fish and goat cheese.
If dairy, would rather it be raw, but if you made cheesecake for desert, I would surely have a small piece.
Water is my main drink with some herbal tea, or juice at times.
Just finished a week of raw food including lots of fresh vegetable juice, yum!

I like most things healthy, chocolate, nuts, sushi, live food, kale, cherries and the whole rainbow of fruits and vegetables.

Like to have some crunch in my meal, prefer "clean food" like Japanese, but enjoy Indian and Mexican too. Mediterranean food is close to my heart as it reminds me of home. I make a fabulous tahini dip.
My body does not seem to digest legumes, so on occasion I eat chicken as well.

In summery - A flexeterian
;)

Esalen, America and the religion of non-religion

2008-06-02T12:45:00.000-07:00

A weekend with Michael Murphy and Jeff Kripalu

A few impressions from this workshop, skipping many topics, no accuracy guaranteed and I haven’t read Kripalu’s book yet…but some history, some more understanding about Esalen and its people.

Michael Murphy invited Dick Price to go down to Esalen with him in th early 60's. The place, owned by Michael’s family had different people living there, from evangelists to weekend gay community. Things were not super great between these groups, and Michael’s grandma gave them the authority to take over.
In the early years, it was mostly intellectuals like Maslow and other prominent scholars that came by and started teaching. Around 1967 came the experimental period, a time where things were taken to extremes, from drugs to sexuality. Workshops where people experimented if they can pee in their pans, or a group of men playing nude volleyball are just two examples.
The Beatles came by with their Indian Guru and played music on the front lawn, Henry Miller came by every weekend…
Different teachers and leaders were invited, but if their teachings seemed over the top, Esalen did not invite them back. There was great openness to everything, but also a responsible mind to monitor things.
Both Michael Murphy and Dick Price (the two founders of Esalen) were anti cults. Price was also seeing the Guru problem in his eyes. Watching out for the Mystics that are power driven.

If it were not for those liberal times that followed the tense times of the 50’s Esalen could not have developed to where it is today. It is a process of experimenting and learning, where different modalities are tried. This also includes most of the best professors that America has had to offer.
Fritz Pearls was a big part of Esalen. He started his Gestalt work here and taught for some years.
Fritz was also the one who brought Ida Rolf to Esalen, where she would develop Rolfing, a unique tissue work practiced worldwide.

About the people that come to Esalen (from the home page of the Esalen website)
“They come for the intellectual freedom to consider systems of thought and feeling that lie beyond the current constraints of mainstream academia. They come to discover ancient wisdom in the motion of the body, poetry in the pulsing of the blood. They come to rediscover the miracle of self-aware consciousness. At best, they come away inspired by the precision of a desire to learn and keep on learning through all of life, and beyond.”

“I was very influenced by Sri Aurobindo. I was meditating 8 hours a day” Michael was telling us.
In Sri Aurobindo's view, Man, at present, lives mostly in his surface mind, life and body. “There is an inner being within which pushes him to a constant pursuit of a greater beauty, harmony, power and knowledge. He has to awake to the greater possibilities of this inner being and purify and orientate by its drive towards the Truth the rest of the nature. There can follow afterwards an opening upward to the several ranges of consciousness between the ordinary human mind and the Supramental Truth-Consciousness and their power brought down into the mind life and body. This will enable the full power of the Truth-Consciousness to work in the nature.” http://www.infobuddhism.com/infobuddhism/institute%20for%20wholistic%20education/design/teaching.htm

Esalen is concerned with the spirit, but very much observes the body in its functioning. The Esalen massage is a huge attraction these days. Somatic work has developed here, and now very much a big part of Esalen.
Holistic health was first coined here at Esalen and then brought to legislation.

Human Potential is the main focus of Esalen. A very broad concept allowing for a great deal of teachings in many diverse individual ways. An emphasis is made on both social and personal transformation. (Esalen was very much a part of Yeltzin’s first visit to the US which had a great deal with Russia’s social and political change)
The techniques to actualize the human potential exist in everyone equally, and Esalen has always been an open place to host all races and genders.

It’s important to be in the present and take baby steps, yet we need to see the big picture. Have the grand idea in mind, Murphy kept telling us.

This workshop was fantastic both because of its leaders as well as the people attending’ professors, MD’s, health care people, owner of organic carrots business…and myself.

Life before Life and quantum physics

2008-06-02T12:42:00.000-07:00

This Wednesday’s eve program at Esalen was talking about life after death with Michael Murphy and friends.
What I remember from it is more about life before life.
Researches have interviewed young children that had memories of previous lives. These description (very accurate at times) lead to a search to find if the description matches a specific being that has died. It was truly amazing to hear about the details that match, including scars that had “passed” on.
It seemed though that most memories were related to a person that had died young or not a natural death. This could lead to either thought; that reincarnation does not happen always, or that these certain instances are more likely to stay vivid in the child remembering.
There are around 2600 case studies done, and now Esalen is supporting further research.

I can understand existence beyond our brain, beyond this body, a total connectedness, a primal energy force, yet to realize that a separate consciousness can keep its cycle of life after life for whatever reason that maybe, is indeed of great curiosity to me.
Does it even matter? What can we learn from this? Is there such a thing as an old soul?
Does a soul really free itself, or is it just a realization of a different state of consciousness?

Last weekend, I was participating in a workshop titled “Do we need spirituality in the age of science?” Atoms are constructed of two elementary particles known today, the electrons and the quarks. But what lies behind this?
Mani Bhaumik, the person who invented eye laser surgery, was sharing with us scientific research leading towards the idea that the 4 main energies known today (including gravity, electromagnetism, strong nuclear force and the week force) connect at extreme high temperatures.
This idea leads to the concept of a quantum field; an energy field that is connected to all, this field exists beyond time and space. Quantum physics describes the subatomic world as one that cannot be depicted in diagrams -- particles are not dots in space, but are more like "dancing points of energy."
Can you understand? My Zen master would ask.
To truly understand, I feel that it is necessary to go beyond the mind, to actually experience this and own it.

Time to sit on the meditation cushion…

A living student

2008-05-28T12:26:00.000-07:00

It’s the end of May, and I’m almost a month into my ES (extended student) program.
A year is expected ahead of me, being on this wonderful land of Esalen, studying, working in the kitchen, teaching Yoga and meditation, and watching whales.

“Mindful silence”, said the sign outside the Fritz room, where the cleanse week is happening. I walked up there from “Rolf”, the room where I taught yoga, to get my raw food breakfast. Opening a fresh young coconut, sipping its juice just like in India a few months back. Inside the round room, near the fire place fresh ginger tea was awaiting. A live Granola with soaked Goji berries, fresh fruit, bee pollen, hemp seed and watermelon juice, all live happily on the table awaiting for our long chewing motion.
Outside, on the balcony sitting on the cliff over looking the ocean, a white whale cruises by. The morning light, going through the clear water and reflecting a turquoise glow off the calm moving whale, a baby perhaps.

Esalen has wonderful food, mostly fresh from our garden, but also meat and dairy options that are hard to resist working in the kitchen.
Now eating only live food, food that still has its enzymes alive, a lot of veggies, nuts and seeds, my stomach is adjusting. Even emotionally there is a release. Reminds me of when I was writing a book years back, “He chose sadness. An existential sadness”…
But then I come back to this paradise and smile with gratitude.
A few more days left of eating Liam’s live food, and drinking fresh veggie juice out of wine bottles. It even looks red thanks to the beets.

This Friday some friends will join the big gathering at Spirit Garden in Big Sur ( the near by town) to see some Aztec dancing and view some of my photography from Cuba as well as some of my work with “Bodies”, a dance and culture event.
I realize now, that I have so many dear friends around the globe that I wish could join. Well, it might have been even harder if we were traveling throughout the galaxies…

So for all you around this beautiful planet, it is a wonderful time for some cleaning, welcoming new vital energies into our bodies and soul.
Eating a bit more raw food is a great start. Now that stone fruit is arriving (like apricots, peaches and plums), the melon family is showing off, it couldn’t be easier.
If possible, eating raw veggies as well. Blending some beets with celery, munching on lettuce or a carrot, making a fresh Kale salad, some radishes with herbs and lemon, or dipping celery into tahini.
Nuts for Nuts…soak em first, soak some seeds and enjoy.

With Gratitude to this abundant land, to the air, the water, the bees, farmers, drivers, cooks, and everything that helps provide us with such beauty and nourishment.

I thank you all for reading this, and for being who you are.

Esalen, to be or not be?

2008-04-15T12:17:00.000-07:00

Esalen, to be or not be?

The Biodanza program has finished, and on the last Thursday of the month I got notice that I shall stay as an ES (extended student) candidate for the month of April.
That means a month at Esalen working in the Kitchen to give both Esalen and myself the opportunity to see if it’s a good match, Ok, and soaking in the hot spring baths too…

What is an ES and why do I want to do it?
An ES is a person that works and studies at Esalen Institute for a year. Works in a specific department (kitchen for me), and has something they are working on/studying/developing while here.
If I get to stay at Esalen I hope to achieve a few things:
- Live in a fantastic setting with some great people from all over the world.
- Learn and improve my kitchen skills (cooking for 300+ every meal)
- Teach yoga and meditation on the regular schedule classes
- Develop workshops related to Blissful Living
- Develop a unique photography workshop
- Learn about ways an institute and community such as Esalen functions
- Keep learning and realizing myself, learning to better myself as to be better for others.

At the moment I work 4 days a week in the kitchen. Each day I have a different title.
One day I am a sous chef, one day a rover (do whatever is needed), one day create the salad bar (last week made stuffed peppers as one dish), and one day I am in charge of the pond – the dishwashing area. So the question that remains is WHO AM I? : )
The work is hard but fun. It’s a healthy environment to work in. Most people are very kind and helpful. Not your usual commercial kitchen.
Twice a week we have group process. (An alternative group shrinking…) We meet as a work group, sit in a circle on pillows, and share what we are going through. There is a process leader (a trained person), that helps open and guide the person that is talking/working through something.
It is not unlikely to have tears in the room, to hear intimate stories, and learn more that what we might normally know about our colleges.

Early morning Thursday (and Sunday too) I walk into the round hut over the waterfall, always surprised that the river never stops, even when we sleep the water keeps flowing, same river, but different every morning. I sit quietly waiting for those that manage to crawl out of bed when the sun is still sleeping and join for Zazen (Zen meditation).
Wednesdays, crossing the river, I open the big dance dome and set up to teach my Blissful Yoga class.

I am now sitting on the carpet on my loft room in a cute little house (a motel room really) that has views of the ocean. A big skylight above me lets the stars and moon watch over me as I sleep. Esalen has purchased this old Motel as a sleeping place for the longer-term residents. Some people here say it reminds them of college days, living so close to each other…
The motel is a mile down the road along the ocean. Seems like everything here is along the ocean and under the mountains, along a stream or a waterfall, covered by a huge starry sky. Nature is very powerful here. Monarch butterflies dancing around the millions of flowers, seea utters playing nearby, birds fly over the great ocean while dolphins and whales pass by on their migration route.
Susie invites Craig and myself to the beach for sunset watching. We head down the steep steps descending the cliff, skipping over some rocks to find our perfect sitting rock. One where we can see the drama of the waves crashing over the dark rocks, seaweed hanging on as the salty water rolls over, and birds diving off the cliff behind in what might seem as the jump of a glider off the cliff in Rio.

While at Esalen, I hope to participate in some of the workshops that happen here on a regular basis. Esalen attracts some of the best teachers out there, in a wide array of disciplines, from dance, psychology, writing, massage, yoga, mediation and what not?
Anything that has to do with developing the human potential goes.
Next week I shall do a pottery workshop, making bowls the native Indian way. I love the art barn; a place open 24 hours a day for everyone to come and play, express and enjoy.

At the end of this month I shall know if I get another month of candidacy at Esalen, if they accept or decline me. Then the question remains about dates, when will I be able to start.
I only know that in June I am planned to go to Boulder, Colorado to participate in Richard Freeman’s Ashtanga intensive for a month. This shall be second Yoga teacher training, a place to round up more knowledge and experience about my practice and teaching others.

Esalen is a place that can only be experienced. Hard to explain what really happens here. I guess that much of it has to do with human interactions on daily bases, working, living, and bathing with the same people. Dancing and practicing yoga, eating and going for walks, hugging and opening the heart, a community, a place of sharing.

Feeling gratitude for the time I’m spending here. All you beautiful people around the world, I miss you and feel you close. We shall meet again when the conditions are right. Every one of you has created a new part within me. Helped me realize a moment more of our interconnectedness.

Thank You. Sharing the Love.

Back to the land of Plenty

2008-03-10T17:47:00.000-07:00

After chewing slowly my last bit of palak paneer and nan, sipped every drop of the Pineapple, ginger, mint juice, shared hugs and kisses with many good friends, I headed off to return my 100cc black and orange Honda. I rented it for $2.5 a day including insurance. A taxi driver and a small car awaited me to take me to the airport.
Mysore, Bangalore, Bombay, Frankfurt and directly heading north towards the pole to SF. Passing Iceland to the left, the water appears like a desert, cracks and formation of something that later reviled itself as ice. As we head north, the cracks seem to connect creating and ice layer, till reaching over northern Canada where dunes of snow flowed for endless miles, where not even a white bear, or a crazy explorer wearing a red suit, appeared.
My journey home (where is home?) would last close to 40 hours, where at the SF airport I would meet my brother Gil and a sunny sky. “The rains have just stopped”, he told me in Hebrew, and I smiled, realizing I missed winter all together this year.
Clean wide roads, SUV’s and convertibles, big homes and a crazy huge motorcycle (mine) were slight different scenery. People however, are still people. Stripping off the façade, the masks, the make up, all that remains is the same thing.
The trees and the grass don’t seem to mind if the land is called India or California. The birds sing indifferently, palm trees rise up and the waves of the ocean always seem to head towards shore.
Two nights at Debbie and Gils house, playing with the always happy Maya, I find myself packing again, this time my motorcycle, getting ready for my trip down the coast, Past Big Sur to Esalen (http://www.esalen.org/)
I have 5 weeks here as a works scholar, Participating in the Biodanza program and working in the kitchen.
Typing on my laptop on the large deck outside the dining room, the sound of birds singing tingle the ocean down below. Esalen is in Big Sur, a cliffy area where green hills roll down to rocky beaches.
In a moment I will head down to the natural hot springs that flow into beautifully designed baths hanging over the crashing waves.
A river flows down through its land passing by the meditation hut, uniting with the ocean where dolphins and whales come to visit, organic gardens surrounded with flowers, butterflies and the community. Esalen brings to its land of Native Indians people from all over the world, of all ages, to come and live beautiful moments, to explore their potential as humans, to study and have fun. It’s a community that consists of many that are here for a weekly program, some come to study for a month (like myself), of course a core group that lives here, and many short term workshop visitors.

Esalen is known for so many things, that I just want to send you to their website to read more…think of Abraham Maslow developing his theories here, of Joseph Campbell, Ida Rolf, the gestalt therapist Fritz Perlsand and many more…
Visitors included the Beatles, Moby, Gurbachev…and now me.
Off for a soak as the sun is playing hide and seek with some clouds, and a special Indian feast will be served soon…

Thoughts about Sex

2008-02-17T03:26:00.000-08:00

“ I wasn’t expecting this,” she said. Of course it wasn’t planned, just happened. Somehow we were kissing, and then getting naked, and then becoming self-conscious, start talking and loose the connection. We transfer to our minds and leave the energy field alone.

“I didn’t even bring condoms with me, I though I’ll only do Yoga on my trip to India.”
“And what is Yoga?” I asked. “Union” she says, as she realizes the word, and then a smile comes to her mind, manifesting on her lips.

It has been easy to be here and just practice Yoga. Study philosophy and while practicing just being, the creative mind of desire had no need in union with another. At times, when a temptation appeared, just seeing the person for what they are, kept the ego from developing a fantasy. At moments there was a crave for touch, for connection, but the joy of being, of just doing things as they come, led me to not try and manifest it.

I assume that if it was possible to just go up to someone and ask them if they want to spend the night together, and more so, if there was a possibility that they would give a total honest reply, without considering what there conditioning thinks is appropriate, then maybe things would be different.

I wonder why this topic is always so big, so secret and so appealing to all. Indeed, it is one of the things that mankind struggles with the most. There are some things we have to do, like eat and sleep, use the restroom and blink. Sex is one of the basic needs that feel like we must have, but is not a true necessity. Still, as much as we become open, study ourselves, learn the path to realization, this seems to be one of the most primal conditioning. A basic instinct we have in us to keep our species alive.

From Priests to Rabies, in Islam and even in the Hindu culture, we are always taught about the right way to dress, to hide our bodies, not to talk about sex.
It is not that sex should be a big topic, nor should we go around naked or dressed like sluts, but at the same time we need not hide this natural thing.
Once we accept things as they are, we can realize that this body, even though moving at our demand, and recognizable by others as “who we are”, is not a true or complete representation of “who we are”. In the functioning world, it indeed is part of us, we take care of it, enjoy through our senses and move with it as a carrier for who we really are. Since it gets sick without asking us first, since we can loose a limb and still think its our body, since most of the functions happen without us even knowing that they happen, it really is interesting we identify with it so much.
Beyond this layer of functionality, where our limitless self exists, the body is just a body. Not something we identify with. It is condensed energy, becoming into form.

While we are here, in our bodies, eating and sleeping, may we also be able to be open and free about our body’s appearance, about our needs and wants, may we have the courage to speak truthfully of what we want without fear of judgment, may we be able to respect each other without forcing so many rules of behavior and act, may we know what is appropriate by placing ourselves where the other is, may we know joy that is beyond the pleasures of our senses.

An art photography installation show in India

2008-02-12T20:14:00.000-08:00

Sipping a glass of fresh coconut water on the porch of India song house, Joao tells me what he thinks of my photography, which ones he likes more, and how we can make a show happen.
It’s late afternoon and the mosquitoes have arrived. The females come to suck our blood as we protect ourselves with Himalayan brand repellent; the Indian Dr. Hauschka.
Joao and Patricia are from Portugal, living in India. They created India Song house as an art space and restaurant. An old house, Indian style, with lots of land around it, feels almost like a Goan house.
“I would like to hang the photos like laundry, a thin transparent wire and some clips”, I tell Joao. “ We can hang sheets out here to project on” he tells me after I tell him about the projections. Then we decide to have a large long fabric that will have the poem about the body elements painted on.
Cecile took me to the market to a tiny store, more like a tent that sells amazing used saris for a dollar or two. As we are choosing plain white or black Parisian chic, the little Hindu man brought us little cups of sweet chai. We pack the three saris, hop on the 100cc black and orange Honda I have here and head out on the dirt bumpy road.
Back on the porch, Patricia helps crating lines on the fabric by folding and ironing it, and Janine, an artist of her own right, talks about the font, as she and Cecile will be the ones creating this beautiful piece with Persian blue paint on a white sari..

A few weeks of organizing the prints, going to the printer back and forth, buying rope, climbing the trees to tie the ropes and stretch the white bed sheets, creating the play list with Patricia, and fine tuning little details.
Waiting for Sharat to declare when the moon day is going to be, so we can announce the opening the eve before. On moon days (full and new moon) there is no practice, so the night before the yogis can stay late and party. (As practice is usually very early in the morning.
Patricia made a wonderful dinner for 25 guests that Wednesday eve, that included fantastic vegan lasagna and fresh pineapple juice. At 7:00pm the crowd started pouring in. at 7:15 just after the projections have managed to go through one round of photos, the power went away and darkness showed its form. Not an unusual occasion in Mysore, yet less pretty when more and more guests arrived. Keeping good spirits with almost no alcohol, power returned an hour later, and with it many more smiley guests.
The event turned to be somewhat of a NY gallery opening with great, relaxed energies, and a fun combo of indoor prints and outdoor projections. With people hanging out barefoot discussing art yoga and dance.

The moon day arrived with great pleasure, and after washing some laundry in my bucket I head over to the swimming pool to have some doing nothing.

Most of the work at the show is on my website: www.doronhanoch.com
Update of the site is in progress.
Thank you all that made this happen and all that came by to share their energies, and thank you all who have been part of me, working with me on these projects and help them come to life.

Living Mysore style

2008-01-24T05:26:00.000-08:00

3:30am, my eyes open after six and a half hours of sleep. I still have an hour till my alarm will go, but I get up.
I want to type a few words while I have my neighbor’s power cord. Mine smoked yesterday as I plugged it to the socket at the Internet café. Electricity here fluctuates…

Normally getting up at 4:00 or 4:30 I have an hour to get ready, meditate and walk over to the shala for morning Mysore practice.
The shala holds around 60-70 students practicing with Sharat and Saraswati, the grandson and the daughter of Pattabhi Jois. The students here seem to be mostly teachers when not here. The level of practice here is very high, at least from the Asana (posture) perspective. Some pretty amazing things happening in that large room, twisting and bending, that involves also strength and concentration. The room is filled with strong energies.
As I finish my practice and walk out of the shala which is on the first floor of their house, the street is quiet and the sound of student talking about their Kapotasana (a crazy backbend) while sipping on coconut water fills the morning air. It is already 7:30 and the sun is out. Like going to the movies but reversed. You enter in the dark and leave when light is out.
Sip my first coconut and ask for the second with ganji, meaning coconut meat. He cracks the green nut open and hands it to me with fresh white coconut flesh sitting on a spoon made from a chopped piece of my coconut.

Off to my room to refresh and then breakfast, either at home with some curd, banana and muesli or at one of the nice places around. We are surely spoiled here. I love Tina’s place with steamed spinach and sesame seeds, her fenugreek leaf (fresh leaves) rotis (flat bread, like a thin pita), that are served with splendid tomato chutney, along with boiled eggs and a papaya mint juice. At any one of the few “westernized” breakfast places you can find many other yogis, talking about their lives or the meaning of life. Discussing a book or making plans for the day. (Swimming pool anyone?)

I hop on my motorcycle and head downtown. Driving through India madness I reach the home where Narasima teaches philosophy, the yoga sutras and much more. Narasima has vast knowledge, from science to philosophy, form the sutras to the Vedas.
Narasima is a medium sized man with white hair jumping around, a white cloth around his waist and a white undershirt to cover his chest and belly. A red line is drawn on his forehead from the hair towards his third eye. He sits on a small bed crossed legged, as we cover the straw mats placed on the floor in the small room. All around us are books. It can almost remind one of the little study rooms that the orthodox Jews in Jerusalem study in, maybe even more simple and basic.
He is surely a manifestation of his teachings. It’s beautiful to see someone who lives his own dogma.

Returning home To Gokulam the neighborhood of the shala, I give Lisa and Stephanie a ride. Motorcycles here and even scooters have amazing capabilities. Small engines, tiny bikes, yet a whole family of 5 can easily fit on. Sometimes it can be many sacks of potatoes; so much as you can’t really see the scooter or driver. A huge part of a banana tree a passenger holding a TV box or anything else that might need to be shipped.
Well, it was my last threesome on a bike as we did get stopped. After bargaining with the police, we agreed on 300 rupees fine (about $7).
They asked for 700, and the real fine is probably around 40.

"Civediamo a green leaf?" Asks me Elena, and I set to meet her for lunch at the huge restaurant where mostly you find Indians eating a classic tali; a large stainless steel plate with many little bowls that contain heavily cooked veggies, dhal, curd and sauces, a bowl of rice, some bread like a chapatti or roti and if its fancy, even a small desert.
Elena orders noodles (she is Italian after all), and paneer 555, a fantastic Indian cheese fried in a way that I would rather not know to transform it to become Chinese, but has some what of a tikka flavor, a yummy satisfying dish that is not swimming in a curry like most other Indian dishes. Recognizing your veggies as separate pieces, or having them not so cooked and with no sauce is rare. Raw salads are not common either.

Lunch and dinner many times merge into one meal, as we tend to go to sleep pretty early. Dinner is usually light, maybe a rav idly (a nice light cutlet made of fermented rice/dhal flour with hint of veggies), a dosa (large, thin paper like dough rolled with a potato curry in its center), or if I’m at the internet cafe, then maybe one of Anu’s famous’ smoothie, a bowl of frozen banana yogurt with optional dates and nuts, real yummy.

A stop at the coconut stand for another fresh heavenly sip, chopped open with a machete right there, while saying hello to beautiful yogis from at least 6 different nations. Canadians and Brazilians win this round…

Evenings I try to keep quiet, read, and meditate, take a walk in the park in front of my house and maybe some body cleaning (with a bucket and cup, very economical and ecological too).

I am working on a photography show I’ll open next month here in Mysore at India song house. It will include two outdoor large screen projections, and some prints hanging like laundry in the main gallery space.
For those that never saw my work, some can be viewed at www.doronhanoch.com

The opening shall be at the night of the new moon, candlelight and images floating through space. Say hello if you’re in the area…

The Patabhi express

2008-01-10T22:08:00.000-08:00

An easy flight to Bangalore, landing and searching for another ATM to fill up the amount needed to pay the Patabhi Jois Yoga Shala fees.
The Spice Jet flight was filled with Ashtagis (Ashtanga Yoga practitioners) that are heading to practice in the main shala (Yoga studio) of Patabhi Jois. A group of Italians, including a famous teacher from Milan and her hilarious son of 14 that is in India with his mom for the year as she practices her Yoga, Kate a teacher from the US, Avi, an Israeli from Maui with his famous dreadlocks, and some others from around the world.

We pick up the luggage including Kate’s new missing wheel on her suitcase, and Avi gets us the taxi. Two hours of roundabouts in Bangalore as the driver doesn’t really know the way to Mysore. It is already 11:30 at night and I am grateful for Yoga as I manage to curl up in weird shapes in the back of the tiny car to try and get some rest.

The Shala reopens its doors this weekend and considering the great weather here, and the 3 week time off students had, the place is expected to be packed. Many warnings about never finding a place, and not being able to even practice in the shala have planted minimum fear in me, and somehow I’ve decided to go with no plans or reservations and see what happens.
I landed at Lisa’s place on my first night, as she arrived that morning with a 20-hour train.

The next morning, I get a tour in the really nice neighborhood of Gokulam; beautiful houses and even nice cars around, very calm.
I meet the great Shiiva, the man that can take care of any of your needs here in Mysore, and even he doesn’t seem to have much to offer as for where to live. After wandering around and asking quite a bit, a find a beautiful little room across from a park, and settle in.
Indeed the yoga here is the most expensive one can find, but everything else is very inexpensive, even compared to Goa.

4:30pm registration to the shala opens, and at 12:30 there are already a few lining up outside. By 3:30 the road is filled with Yogis greeting each other, hugging and sharing stories, catching up from the last time they all met here.
Climbing up the stairs to the shala, filling out my form and counting my money. From the outside a few Japanese were organizing and guiding the eager students to the shala.
In the inside room, Sharat (Patabhis grandson and the one that pretty much runs the show now) is behind one table, with a beard, concentrating at his task. At the table next to him sits the great and famous Patabhi Jois also known as Guruji. He is wearing a brown wool hat that covers his head, ears and neck. He seems different than when I’ve seen him in NY some years back. His hands that have adjusted so many students, that have guided many to become great Ashtangis and devotees, are now resting on the table, adorned with gold and diamond rings, his eyes gazing over towards his grandson as he is doing hid tasks. Guruji seems only half present, yet he still wears a kind face as he sees so many of his long time students.
Across from him sits his daughter, Saraswati. She gets up, moves around and makes sure we all know what the new rate is.
Next, calls Sharat. I enter, place my stack on the table and await my faith; at what time will I need to show up for practice? He puts the money through an automatic money counter like in the bank then turns back to me, pulls out a card. The first shift is at 5:00. They have the advantage of not waiting. Sharat tells me 6:15 and then changes it to 5:45. The ones before and after me are at 5:00, not sure why. I think I was even hoping to be later, like 6:30. I admit that getting up before 5:00 has never been exciting for me unless it was to catch a plane for a great vacation once in many years.
The line is still long when I exit. To the coconut stand or home?
After celebrating my last night in Goa with a swim in the ocean followed by a delicious tandoori Pom frit at Shore Bar, my stomach is a bit sensitive, and I head home to rest. Curd and 12 hours of rest put me back on my feet, for a free day before the practice begins.

Fish Buffet at Coffee Heaven

2008-01-06T22:24:00.000-08:00

4:30am, I await Derk to open the gate to coffee heaven.
I park my scooter inside the gate and hop on the back of his. The morning is very chili and I am wearing all the layers I could find. Dirk is a 36 year old German that has discovered India 10 years back, and 3 years ago has moved to Goa with his girlfriend Diana to open a café, a place that serves all German baked goods, and his famous smoked fish.

Thursday night is the special fish night buffet. Dirk leaves early morning to go to the fish market in Panjim. It’s the main one, where the market is on the dock right by the fishermen’s boats. It’s still dark when we arrive, just a bit of light over the baskets of fish shrimp and squid that were just swimming happily a few minutes ago.
Dirk comes from Hamburg, a city of docks and fresh fish, grew up in a house that had veggies in the back yard and smoked their own fish.
Checking under the guilds to make sure the fish is really fresh, looking for that redness, for the clear eyes, we choose some king fish which is the most available in Goa, we buy some shrimp, calamari, snappers and the mystery fish. The mystery fish is one that we both don’t know by name, one that is very rare to find, but has such a beautiful meaty taste on the grill (sorry, my veggie friends), that dirk is willing to pay triple the snapper price.

We tie the bags of fresh sea life to the bike between Dirks legs and head home. As we drive back, the sky is red with the big sun rising over the rice fields. Some low fog, like a blanket of white clouds floats low on the fields adding to the magical feel. Birds are waking up, the hum of the old scooter’s rotating engine and Derks voice telling me about his philosophy of life. No helmets jackets or gloves in this part of Goa, so the air, sound and surrounding penetrate deeply within.

I leave Dirk to do the cleaning on his own as I rush to my Yoga practice with Rolf and Marci,

In the evening, many arrive to coffee heaven. Simple chairs with natural wooden tables stand on the earth amongst the trees. The buffet offers many vegetarian offers and some of their fantastic dark German bread.
Dirk believes in grilling the fish simple, only a brush of oil. The sauces are aside, and one can choose which to use on which fish.

Coffee Heaven runs as a simple family place, with many regular costumers, especially German. The couple like many westerners in Goa, aim for 6 months of hard work, and 6 months of living in the west.
Goa offers today amazing business opportunities. As such even Diana and Dirk thought of upgrading to a more serious restaurant in a better location and getting another chef to run the show (me). For now I said goodbye nicely as I head over to practice more Yoga in Mysore.

Auntie’s Story

2008-01-06T21:06:00.000-08:00

A true Goan she is, tells me the son of her best friend. She is from a family that has been in Goa many generations. A true Goan is usually a mix of Indian and Portuguese; Christian of course. He tells me this, as we sip our Fenni (a strong alcohol made from cashew nut) with Limca (a lime soda) at the Starco bar. Funny old rock tunes are filling the air along with incense and cheap after-shave. Andy, Aunties best friends’ son, is a very proud Goan. Born in Kenya and brought up in England, he still feels very Goan. He has a strong connection with Portugal and visits there often. He has still to master the language, but that will surely come in time.
Andy is staying at Auntie’s house with his family as they are on Christmas holidays from Bahrain, where he now works at the Arabian bank. Auntie told me that they prefer the freedom they have in her place rather than being with his mother that might be more demanding..
“It is important that the kids know their Goan roots”, he tells me. Would you ever come to live here? I ask. “ I could never live here. There is too much bureaucracy, too much corruption, too dirty, and too poor. We saw a woman washing her dishes on the street, in something that looked like a running sewer. It was important that the children see this, and appreciate what they have.”
“ Can I offer you another drink?” he asks. I barely could drink the first one, but wanted him to feel good, now, apologizing I order a ginger lemon honey tea. A cow is chewing on some garbage over the fence, Christmas lights are hanging above and a group of 5 beautiful Russian girls enter and sit at the table next to us. Bikinis and sarongs, one has a mini skirt on with samurai like boots, the other has a shirt that is all slits on the back, sex is pouring here like the drinks ordered at the table of Brits, on the other side.
We then go on talking about politics, Middle East, terror and Yoga. He asks me to tell him everything about it, as he has only heard about Yoga briefly.

Auntie offers the visiting family tea as I come in to fill up my empty plastic bottle with some filtered water from her fancy filtering system. They kindly deny, asking for only hot water so they can use their Tetley bags.
“Her tea is too strong he tells me”. Auntie’s tea is beautiful, strong, fragrant, a bit sweet, and served with milk. I am grateful every day as she offers me her cup of sweetness (She is 72…) with a piece of her daily cake or coconut sweet.

Auntie grew up in a poor family, with two other brothers that got to go to school.
“You are girl, why you need to go to school? You marry and take care of house” is what her mom would answer when she would ask about school.

Auntie learned to sew and cook and all the other important tasks a girl needs to know.
When ready, at 16 she was sent off to live with her husband. They moved to Africa for a few years to work at a restaurant. By the time they returned, they had 3 girls and the husband was drinking way too much.

Her husband has received a nice size property in Goa that had a small house on it. Auntie decided to stay in Bombay and raise the girls on her own. She would do alternations, sewing, cooking and whatever it took to make a living. She managed to send all her girls to school and pay for higher education for the two that were interested.

30 years ago, the husband died, and auntie moved to the property in Goa,
Over the years she managed to build three large houses on it, one for each daughter.
Auntie wears dresses, simple ones with some flowery prints, no saris. There are big marble slacks on the floor, and a Jesus on the wall. She is not too religious in the Christian manner, but indeed a religious person in human kindness.

Today she runs the business on her own, waking up early to greet the milkman and the bread man. Then with the help of one girl she takes care of the other entire house needs,
All the profits from renting the rooms are sent to her daughters.
Then she awaits them to give her money back for spending. Medicine is the most expensive, as she has too many illnesses too mention. Not that anyone could ever tell as she roams her place with a straight spine and joyful smile. Even her gold bangles and jewelry has been passed on. Only one necklace is left. “What I need now? I have enough” she tells me with a kind smile. “You have one more piece?” Her delights are a mix of western style cakes and Indian cookies, somewhat like herself. I always eat too many cakes at her house. At least they are home made, mostly with coconuts from her own trees surrounding the property and jaggery (an unrefined sugar). Her telling me stories seems to give her a purpose in life, a moment of joy and connection. I am happy to be there and relive her stories while sipping strong tea full of fragrance.

Sunset

2007-12-21T06:47:00.000-08:00

Today the sun must have been feeling the moon. The moon was already up in the sky when the sun began descending. The moon, almost full, rising above the palm trees in a clear blue sky. It is Friday eve, On Sunday the moon shall appear full. It is full every night, shining with all its glory, yet we get to perceive it as full only once a month.
The moon does not seem to mind. It keeps on with its motion, with its fullness and nakedness, circling the earth, playing with the oceans, and a bit with our moods.

The sunsets in the past few days were nice but not remarkable. The sun set in full orange/red, but left no real trace in the sky. Only the waters kept a hint of pink in them after the sun was gone. Subtle sunsets.
Tonight. The sun was playing with the clouds, in and out. Appearing half, turning bright red, leaving streaks of warmed tone brush strokes within the cool colored clouds, reappearing, and just when the drums are roaming with the ocean waves, the sun speeds up its move and instead of waiting for the curtain to come down, it sinks behind the ocean.
Not sure where it went, or if it went anywhere at all. So much of life is just an appearance.
Was this real?

Big Vagator, one of the last beaches that have a long stretch of sand, with no cafés and beds on it, palm trees, some rocks, and Chapora fort on the hill behind. It’s a beautiful place to watch the sun kiss the ocean, letting light fade away, as we welcome the stars.

The stars, unlike the sun, will accept their low appearance as the moon glows, and will wait silently for another few days till the moons’ reflection of the sun dims away.

(Hmmm, nice to think of the stars waiting, when it’s us really that see all these different appearances. The stars are just the stars, as the moon is just the moon, each floating in its space, within its own rhythm. That’s one part of nature, we humans have not managed to tame…thankfully)