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the low cost of abundance

[ 1 ] August 7, 2010

Basic economics: the rarer something is, the more valuable it becomes, even to the point of weird frenzy.

I was thinking about this the other day at the grocery store checkout, aka, one of the Outer Circles of Temptation, Little Kids Division.  Have you looked lately at the way they package that stuff right at the checkout these days?  Holographic wrapping on the sweet tarts, mylar balloons with adored characters, rows and rows of bright colors promising ecstasy.  And then there are those coin opperated dispensers of false promises, temporary tattoos, and stale bubblegum in day-glo colors…

We always get something.  I know all the reasons not to: the stuff is shite, for one thing.  Overpriced, for another.  Save that buck for every grocery store trip and you’ll have a tenspot a month to put to something more worthy, right?  Then there is the random sugar, and oh lord, the chemicals….  It’s the smart thing to say, “No,” or even, “We’ll get some of the not-so-chemically-contaminated stuff at the health food store,” or, “I just don’t want to spend money on that.”  These seem reasonable objections.  I get that.

But the kids really, really want something from that aisle.  It looks amazing to them, all shiny and full of sweetness.  And it IS shiny and sweet for five, ten, even fifteen minutes, which to a forty year old is not long, but in four year old time, that’s at least an hour.   Oh my god, a DOLLAR, it’s so cheap, so absurdly inexpensive, to make them feel like queens and kings there in the cart, holding their prize.

When was the last time a purchase made me feel like that?  And how much did that purchase cost? You can bet it wasn’t a dollar.

When they are small, it is so incredibly easy—and dirt cheap—to give them a feeling of total abundance.  ”Sure, you can get something, what do you want?”  And the double dose, “You can’t decide?  Why don’t you get both?”  Magic words.  Magic!

If a kid, if anybody, gets a lot of “No, you can’t have that,” that thing gets more and more valuable to them until it achieves an almost mystical status.  And if a little kid gets a lot of “No”s to these simple desires, the wanting doesn’t go away, it amps up, fueled by earlier frustrations.  Meanwhile the things wanted move up, too, to more expensive items.  And the more “No” there is, the more demand, along with simultaneous its-never-enoughness takes over, i.e. the opposite of abundance.

I was thinking all of this yesterday in the grocery store, because when we got to the checkout, Sophie said, “No thanks.”

I did a kind of double take.  ”What?”

“I don’t want anything, right now,” she said, unconcerned.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.  I don’t like this kind.”

Wow.  I played it cool, but inside I was just…wow.

I guess she knows it’s there, she can get it later, it’s no big deal.  And of course, there is that lesson we all learn, as we move through our purchasing life, that everything wrapped in holographic paper won’t be as marvelous as it may appear…she’s got some of that. Discernment.  Purchasing sophistication. At six.  I really think all those “Yes”s at the checkout line, the freedom to try things and see what she liked and didn’t like, knowing there would be other opportunities, gave her the exposure to know when the checkout aisle goodies weren’t going to be all that they promised.  I think I was in my twenties before the checkout aisle lost its glow.  Sad, perhaps, but true.  Apparently, she already has some of that knowledge.  At six.

Honestly, I wasn’t expecting this.  I’ve been saying yes at the checkout because it seemed hypocritical for me to say no.  I mean if I wanted something as much as they want that stuff, and it only cost a dollar, I would totally buy it.  Why shouldn’t they have the same freedom?  And look where generosity, if that’s what this is, leads.  Surprise.

People worry about spoiling children by giving them what they want, but I haven’t had that experience. As far as I can tell, Sophie hasn’t been spoiled, she’s gotten more mature.

But what I was really thinking in the checkout aisle as I loaded up our groceries and scanned my card, was this kind of Holy Cow Realization that it is SO much cheaper to learn purchasing discernment in the grocery store checkout buying goodies they don’t need, than at, say, the electronics counter of Best Buy *cough* where one might spend WAY TOO MUCH on gadgets, hypothetically speaking of course, that, um, one also does not need.

How outrageously inexpensive it is for a little kid to feel CRAZY ABUNDANCE in the checkout at the grocery store.  Not so, the forty year old at Best Buy.  Crazy Abundance is a wonderful feeling.  Stock up when you can get it.

Luc got a pack of juicy-fruit gum.  In the car, he asked Sophie if she wanted any.  ”Sure,” she said, and they sat back there chewing while I drove us home.

I could say “No,” for all the good reasons, to checkout aisle waste-of-money, rot-your-teeth, over-marketed, crap.  But I think I would be sacrificing their feeling of abundance and choice.  Not to mention the chance to try out buying stuff when the stakes are so low.  Lots to learn there.  All of which is WAY more valuable to me than that minuscule few bucks a month it costs.

Rather than a Waste of Money, suddenly the checkout aisle looks like the Deal of the Century!

podcast friday

[ 0 ] August 6, 2010

Episode 17 is LIVE.

Only one more to go, that’s right, the big finale conclusion whoop-dee-doo is NEXT WEEK.  And I thought I had it in the can, but then I thought of something else and here I am, rerecording again.  What a waffler!  But hopefully it will make it better….

Podiobooks to subscribe or stream.

make that a double

[ 1 ] August 4, 2010

flex

[ 0 ] August 2, 2010

I was driving to the mailbox today—what, you don’t drive to mailbox?  We’re rural, okay?  It’s like, a quarter mile at least to ours.  And you try getting your four year old to walk that far when he would SOOOO rather sit on your lap and ‘drive’—anyhow, I was driving to the mailbox today, when what do I spy, but some sort of…swelling on my arm.  Hmmm.  My inner, left, forearm to be exact. Sort of, bulging out.

Curious, I flexed and bent my wrist, wondering what new and strange condition I could be coming down with.  Ouch, it was kind of sore, now that I was paying attention to it.  Huh.  A bug bite?  Fluid retention?  Yoga injury?  But that’s when it hit me.

It’s a muscle!  A BARRE CHORD muscle!  I’m getting guitarist forearms!

I couldn’t be more pleased.  It’s even better than when the little cardboard-like callouses came in on my fingertips, little merit badges for practicing.  Because, yes, after much struggling I can kind of play some barre chords, just the majors on the sixth string and minors off the fifth string, but still, that’s a heck of a lot more than a week or two ago when all I got was plunk plunk plunk, no matter what.

I wonder if I’ll get those long spidery fingers?  Or that super-cool jazz look, that far away, doesn’t look at his hands as he plays, seen it all before Look.  I want that look.  Maybe occasional, syncopated head shake, but that’s it.  Yeah.  Any minute now.

baby goat for sale (sob!)

[ 2 ] August 1, 2010

It’s that time again.  Time to sell the babies.  For now, we’re going to part with our little guy. (The little girl will go a bit later, I think, I’m not sure.  I’m conflicted.)  Here he is:

He simply adores Sophie, can you tell?

He is incredibly friendly and sweet.  Here he is playing his favorite game, pushing his head against Sophie.  His other favorite is sitting on Sophie’s lap and sucking on her hair. Also, humping his little sister, because, you know, boy goats will be boy goats.

He loves to have his throat scratched….

Isn’t he pretty?  Look at these markings.  And those cute little wattles….

This is going to be a hard one to part with, but we’ve got to do it.

I HAVE ACHIEVED LIFT-OFF

[ 7 ] July 31, 2010

For any ashtangi out there, you will understand the enormous import of the following statement:

I did my first actual jumpback yesterday!!

That’s right, I actually lifted myself up from sitting, for a split second, long enough to squish my legs back through my arms and swing them back—and land, sploosh, underneath me—but then lift up again and shoot the legs out and straight back, boom, chatarunga, holy cow, I nearly cheered.  Big eyes, I looked up at Luc and said, did you see that?

This will probably mean nothing to to all y’all non-ashtangis out there, sorry.  But really, just take my word for it.  The first several thousand times over the last year that I have tried this move, the jumpback, there has been no response from my body.  I go to lift, and nothing.  I mean, NOTHING.  As in, go pick up the Empire State Building.  Yeah right.  I’ll get right on that.

But yesterday, I achieved the impossible. For a split second.  But who cares! It has taken an entire year to get here, to that split-second lift, but I did it, I lifted the Empire State Building—er, I mean, my butt—and I jumped back.

Okay, it was a pitiful, pathetic, lame-ass jumpback, with a touchdown halfway through, but aren’t all first jumpbacks like this?  Except for Paul, who did one the very first time I described it to him a year ago, blast him.  Or Sophie, who said, “Oh, you mean this?” and did five beautiful jumpbacks in a row, plus handstands, she is such a prodigy.

But I don’t care!  I’m a wimp and I’m proud of it, and maybe in another year, I’ll be doing those floaty jumpbacks that look so cool.  Or just, you know, not landing halfway.

I did my first jumpback!

I’m so stoked!

podcast friday

[ 2 ] July 30, 2010

Episode 16 is LIVE.  Only two more to go….

Here to subscribe, or here to stream.

ashtanga yoga: one year in

[ 0 ] July 28, 2010

Yep. Can you believe it? I have been doing a near-daily ashtanga yoga practice for an entire year. I started with just the surys mid-summer 2009 sometime. I was 38. I don’t know the exact date I started, but, based on when I bought my manduka, I’m thinking the beginning of August. After a couple weeks of that, I started adding the standing poses. By November, I was doing the whole primary series, and have been ever since. And after a year of it, I can honestly say: I still love it.

Biggest changes. The standing poses are all easy now. How is that even possible? I have not put in any extra work or attention on them. In fact, I usually have the mindset of ‘getting through’ them. But they really do feel lovely now, like a good morning stretch. The majority of the poses, despite starting a year ago in easy-peasy variations, I can now do to their full extent. For example, a year ago my Revolved Triangle meant barely turning enough to get my lower hand around my knee or so, and not being able to look up lest I fall over. Now my lower hand is flat on the floor and I can turn enough in my spine to look all the way up at the upper hand. Wow! The exceptions: I can’t do a full Parivrtta Parsvakonasana, but I’m close. I can’t put my nose to my knee in Utthita Hasta Pandangustasana, but I can comfortably hold my toe with my leg straight in both positions. And I can’t bind my Ardha Baddha Padmottanasana, but bending over with one leg up in lotus is now delicious. This slow and steady improvement blows my mind.  So, standing poses: check.

Other things, however, have changed only a little, and slowly. For example, back-bending. I started in such a terrible state with the back-bending—honestly, no exaggeration, I had zero backwards movement in my spine. If I bent back as far as I could, I was standing up straight. I couldn’t do any version of up dog without pain, and so did plank in all vinyasas for several months. I finally got to where I could do a baby cobra. Maybe six months in I could do up-dog. Up to that point, I was skipping back bends and doing Setu Bandha instead. Around six months I started draping myself over a big exercise ball. I remember when I could finally get my hands back far enough to touch the floor!  I had Sophie take a picture:

(I’m fairly embarrassed to put these pitiful attempts up, but I want to see what happens in another year.  Hopefully, these will the the ‘before’ pictures for a beautiful back bend.  Someday.)

You can see I had—have—this incredible flat stiffness in my upper back! If I moved the ball towards my head at all, the hands came right off the floor.  So I would hang in space for a while like that, and then roll it down towards my feet some, like in the photo, and sort of push it up into my upper spine. Felt great.  I don’t know if it did much.

Three months later, I was finally strong enough to even try to lift myself up. It’s like I’ve got a 2×4 for an upper spine!

I swear, I was straightening my arms as much as I possibly could in this picture.  The upper back just will not budge enough to let the arms go back any further.  And it isn’t tightness in my shoulders.  I can easily hold my own hands in Gomukhasana arms.

Here I am, one year in, and I have some movement in my upper spine. I can bend enough to look up…

…which I totally couldn’t do when I started.  I’m pushing up through the heart as hard as I can here, and it looks like I’m slumping.  I’m still working on—obviously.  But, when I started, this position would have had me standing straight, tilting my chin up and rolling my eyes back in my head in an effort to see the ceiling. No backwards motion of the spine at all.  So there is some progress, I guess. But wow. Slow. I really worry about this upper spine of mine. I don’t want to be one of those hunched-over old ladies.

Moving on.  Finally we come to the “I haven’t seen any change, really, no, not any at all, I’m afraid,” category… Um, mental calm? Meditative stillness? Nada. To be fair, this is probably partially because 9 times out of 10 I’m doing my practice while Spongebob plays in the background, or lego towers are built around me, and I have to stop periodically to make sandwiches, or tie on costumes, or break up fights. Maybe I’ll get to work on inner peace when the kids are older. Maybe everything I’m doing now is prep for the real stuff. In fact, I’m sure it is.

That’s fine. Barring death, I’ve got some time.

But now we come to the Most Pronounced Change this year:  I have very little physical pain these days. Where my back used to constantly hurt, to varying degrees, it rarely hurts now. Where my shoulders used to pop and ache, I rarely think of them, and the joints work smoothly. My knees feel strong and stable. My neck moves freely and only aches if I abuse it, sitting at a cranked position to read or whathaveyou. And let me tell you, being largely painfree is simply marvelous.

Ashtanga is worth the price of admission right there.

But that’s not all!  You also get this amazing Bonus Gift: my great friend who lives 2000 miles away (sob!) came for her annual visit last month.  She hadn’t seen me in over a year, since before I started all this yoga.  It was crazy hot and one of the first things we did was go swimming.  One look at me in my suit and she said, “Maya!  Oh my god, look at you, look at your arms!  Look at your abs!  You look so strong and fit and…and…fantastic!”

Thank you Priscilla. Made the Goddess in all Her Glory rain chocolate blessings down on your head for all eternity for saying that.

So. Experimental Year Of Ashtanga is coming to a close.

But I’m definitely signing up for another year.  Tune in next summer for another update….

a beautiful problem

[ 0 ] July 27, 2010

Yesterday I got home from some errands, and, happy to see her, I grabbed up Sophie (6) and started kissing her all over her face.

After a moment, in a patient, friendly voice, she said, “Could you do this a little faster, Mom? I’m sort of in the middle of something.”

It’s kind of wonderful to be in a position in one’s life to take such a mushy display of love for granted.

my guitar is kicking my butt

[ 4 ] July 25, 2010

Maya vs. the guitar, round 3.

So, I’ve gotten to the part of learning guitar where one attempts to learn barre chords. You know, the ones where you use your index finger to fret, or press down, all six strings at once, what a freaking nightmare. Steel strings, under upwards of 200 lbs of pressure….. Pressing them down is painful and largely hopeless, as I get this plunk plunk sound from at least one string on every barre chord attempt and more usually two or three. Plunk plunk plunk. What’s wrong with my piano, so full of levers and hammers and a brilliant steel frame to hold all 88 strings cut to the appropriate length, why in the world would anyone want to adjust the steel string length with their bare fingertips??!?

I’m determined though. I can play a bunch of open string chords, and those used to hurt like crazy and seem hopeless, so maybe barre chords may also yield to my determination. The guitar may be winning at the moment, but I will prevail. You know. Maybe.

While I practice those, a few minutes at a time, ouch ouch, I’m also reading a very entertaining book, “Guitar: An American Life,” by Tim Brookes. It’s simultaneously the history of the guitar in this country in the last three hundred, or so, years, and the story of Brookes having a guitar made for himself, to replace a long beloved guitar destroyed by baggage handlers. I’m enjoying it, meandering as it does all over the place. Recommend.

Anyway, the part I’m reading right now is about the birth of the blues, that is, African-Americans of deep poverty creating guitars out of cigar boxes and random bits of wire and broom handles and inventing their own music out of nothing.

Here’s a quote. He’s talking about the outsider, disenfranchised, black guitar music of the twenties, thirties, and forties.

“African-American blues guitarists, starting from no more than bits of wood and wire, reinvented the guitar. In doing so they created a body of radical and original music from beginnings so rudimentary that it was often described as primitive, and in some respects not even music. The blues, as a lyric form and a loose group of musical stylings interpreted by white musicians, was almost immediately popular, but the American public wanted little to do with the actual sources of the music.”

and a bit further on…

“This was the biggest difference between Hawaiian [steel guitar] music and blues: Kekuku [the inventor of steel slide guitar] traveled widely, entertained royalty, became a respected teacher. Is it surprising, then that Hawaiian music and its instruments were assimilated with amazing speed? Compare him with Eddie “Son” House, a great teacher of the blues. When the folklorist Alan Lomax tracked House down in 1941, he was living in a shack behind the home of a farmer who promptly called the local sheriff. The lawman arrested Lomax on suspicion of being an enemy spy, sent to stir up unrest among “our niggers.” Is it surprising, then that the blues and its playing techniques remained unassimilated and largely unchanged for decades, and as such, becoming steadily richer and more complex?”

These blues guitarists were seen as distasteful for quite a while, even by other black musicians, as Brookes describes. Which reminded me of the wild, impoverished, ‘mad men’ wandering yogis described in Mark Singleton’s book “Yoga Body.” The ‘real’ yogis, the ones that wandered India, wearing only the ashes of burned bodies, doing ‘bizarre’ ‘primitive’ ‘repulsive’ (descriptions made at the time) practices, and also associated with magic and maybe something sinister… They were rejected for a long time by other more ‘civilized’ Indians such as Vivikenanda, who saw those hatha yogis as distasteful in the extreme.

…But they also created something rich and complex that was later cleaned up for ‘civilized’ culture where their work became hugely popular.

An interesting resonance.

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