For the Love of Sweat
Physical challenges excite me. Limits are there to be tested, and within our own bodies is a great place to begin. Yes, I work out. Some might say I work out a lot. But all that aside, nothing has been quite like what I’ve discovered in the last two weeks at Bikram Portland.
It started on a Friday night, much like any other Friday night… at a bar. My favorite bar. There I was at my favorite bar, with two of my favorite girlfriends, when I met a guy.
This was no ordinary guy. For one thing, he was not trying to get into my pants. By the end of the night it was clear, he was trying to get me into hot yoga!
“I want you to do this,” he said. “It will change your life.”
Granted, the conversation would have never happened, if he weren’t so darn cute in the first place, but (as far as he was concerned) it wasn’t about chemistry. We went for a nice 7-mile run along the Waterfront a couple days later, and a couple days after that, we were on our way to Bikram.
The smells of feet and human perspiration were inescapable. We left our shoes and socks in little cubbies in the lobby, signed in at the front desk and headed for the changing rooms. Apparently, no one steals in yogi culture, because although there were lockers available, no one uses them. Instead, another wall of cubbies is the place where people leave their stuff. I followed suit.
Apparently, no one wears much in the way of clothes either. Unaware that I was about to sweat more than I’ve ever sweat in my entire life, I decided to go with the flow of nearly-nude traffic around me… I left my shirt in my bag. (Turns out, I’d need it later because I only brought one towel, which, by the end of class, was completely soaked.)
If you’ve ever done yoga, you’d be familiar with the postures. There are 26 total, in Bikram. It begins with a breathing exercise, then the rest of our standing postures, and – my favorite – the balancing postures. After that, we move to the floor.
Before we get going, the instructor always asks, “Who here is in their first five classes?” That was me. She assured me that taking breaks was okay, that dizziness, perhaps even nausea, is normal, and that my primary goal is staying in the room for the entire 90 minutes. Sure, not a problem. No sweat!
Within a few minutes though, I was covered in shimmering sweat droplets. Soon they were streaming down my face, arms, legs and back. About halfway through the class, I found myself wondering, “Am I going to pass out? I think I’m going to pass out! Please don’t pass out…”
There was a distinct, full-body, tingling sensation. At least twice, I lowered myself onto my knees in a fetal position, just trying to stay conscious. A few sips of water now and then were essential.
Somehow, I survived. After class, several of us made our way outside, which was a dizzying challenge in and of itself. Coming out of corpse pose (lying flat on your back) is downright dangerous if you stand up too fast. Vision fading for a few moments, I managed not to trip on the bodies still laying between me and the exit.
We sat for a few minutes outdoors, and even though it was freezing, we were steaming hot. It was exhilarating.
Then it was time to shower and move on. My friend and I met up in the lobby after we were fresh and clean, completely relaxed. My body felt like it had been heated and wrung out so that nothing was left inside. My mind was at ease. My throat was clear of all the garbage that had been collecting there. Even my voice sounded different. I realized, this is what it’s all about…
Going on empty, we needed to refuel. We went out for a bite to eat, then said our goodbyes.
Twice more, I took the class that week, before I even saw my friend again. By the time he came back with me, I was able to hang in there, actually participating the entire time. With steady improvements, I’m now able to do just about every posture, except for one. I cannot express how wonderful it feels…
If you’re interested – no matter what level of fitness you are at – Bikram is a fantastic way to put yourself to the test. There’s an entire range of ability within the room, on any given day. You won’t ever be alone. But you aren’t there to compare yourself to others anyway! This is about you, making the most of your time, cleansing your body of toxins, relaxing your mind, strengthening your muscles and increasing your flexibility.
Check it out! Bikram Portland has a great deal for people new to the clinic: $39 bucks for a month of unlimited classes. Sign up soon, and I may even see you there.
Namaste.
Everyone Brings Something to the Table… I Want a Feast!
According to the stats, a fair amount of people show up to my site, looking to gain perspective about “compartmentalization of relationships.” Fortunately, those who are looking for insight on this particular topic, have come to the right place.
Here, I’ll spend a few minutes to break it down:
I’ve only been in a couple long-term, monogamous partnerships. The first was with the father of my child. It lasted roughly two years, which (at 18) seemed like an eternity. The next was with a guy who I met when I was 20, for five years. We became enthralled with each other. Nothing else in the world could possibly matter as much as coming home to our oh-so-significant other. It was intoxicating.
But things have changed. For myself, and an increasing number of my peers… We practice compartmentalization.
Social Economics
One of the best feelings in life, is knowing you have something to offer. For many people, it sets them apart from the group in one particular way, or another. Generally, when a person knows they have done something to benefit the clan, you know what? It feels alright! The beauty of this equation is that although we are, as humans, almost entirely alike, our differences in skill, ability, talent, and personality… are amazing. And when your life is full of relationships with people that each bring you a little taste of just-about-anything, you’re in for a treat!
Don’t forget – just like any tree – a social tree can benefit from well-planned pruning. Sometimes we must lop off a dead branch, so the rest of our tree can flourish. There simply isn’t enough time in the day to share yourself (on a real-life, personal level) with everyone. If someone isn’t bringing anything to the table… or worse! If what they are bringing is something you’d rather not have, you may be better off making room for something better.
These ideas were born early on – I remember it clearly. Mom and Dad had been divorced since I was a kid, and one day, many years later, Dad told me.
He said, “There are some people you want to smooch on. There are some people you want to see a movie with. There are others who you can talk to about the news.”
I’ll add to that, there are people you work out with, people you go out to eat with, and people you like to drink with (if that’s what you so-choose).
The point is, each of these relationships are (potentially) fulfilling in their own way. Any number of them, however, would be semi- to semi-serious violations to members of most traditional relationships.
Of course, there is a grey area. Lots of people participate in both paradigms. I see it often. What this amounts to, is a whole lot of deception, and a fully loaded situation that could blow at anytime. It doesn’t make me abandon my married friends, but I use caution and try to stay in control.
The extent to which relationships “go” are your business and your business alone. I’m not hooking up with anyone at the moment (not against it) but I’ve got a beautiful variety of charming friends, both male and female, whose company I thoroughly enjoy! I remind myself regularly, as addictive as people with certain chemistry can be, romantic intoxication is just that: A chemical reaction, put in place by millions of years of evolution that actually made sex fun in the first place.
Because if it wasn’t? Who would ever go through the daunting, costly tasks of pregnancy and raising kids?! The human race would have ceased to exist a long time ago…
Anyway, this is my definition of compartmentalization, in a nutshell. It’s why I always like to say, “Everyone brings something to the table… I want a feast!”
I Dream What I Want!
While practicing lucid dreaming, one can’t necessarily expect everything to go their way. Sometimes our subconscious has a few surprises for us. For example, here’s what happened last night:
It began innocently enough, starring a guy, who I have just a tiny crush on. He said something that made my tummy twirl, which made me realize, I was most certainly dreaming. So naturally, without a beat, we were beamed into my bed… and he was naked. Perfectly fine by me! But then, my bedroom door opened a crack, and a little round light fell onto us. Someone was shining a flashlight in our direction…
“Who’s in there?” Said a voice. It was my dad. How awkward!
I replied, “It’s just _____. Get outta here!”
Now, if you know my pops, you already know he’s a bit of a prankster. So next, a gloved hand came towards us, poking around from across the room… It was mounted on a long pole, of sorts. Probably something he found at the joke store.
Anyway, I managed to get rid of him.
Closing Your Minds Eye… to See
In painting, especially within the realm of realism, it’s beneficial to sever oneself from common notions of what’s there. At some point we discover, trees are not shaped like lollipops, human figures are not sticks, and almost no face is truly symmetrical. But our brains love patterns. Because patterns help us make sense of the world!
Looking at faces, we don’t see eyes, nose and mouth… That’s just what we perceive. What we SEE are shapes, angles and various exposures of light. In my work, I’m ever-grappling with what I am seeing versus what I simply know is there. Here are a couple recent illustrations of this point:
*Special thanks to Bitsie for being my muse! (I borrowed her pic from Twitter.) The other images are my own.
Star Magnolia
This winter, I’ve been on a creative kick… Here’s my first attempt at using flower blossoms for subject matter:
Split-Second Savior
I love my life. Beyond a big, strong body, I’ve been bestowed with many gifts… not the least of which is a healthy, happy and quickly growing daughter. Imagine my dismay, Thursday night, when our picture of wholeness and peace was nearly shattered.
Cruising towards downtown, Violet and I bypassed the regular traffic, taking one of the side streets. It was dark. She was helping, reading my text messages out loud, and replying with whatever I wanted her to say. Such a good girl! (She also cooks, cleans, and takes great care of our chickens.) Not sure how fast we were going, but when I saw a speeding light in my peripheral vision, I stomped hard on the brakes and pressed on the horn with all my might.
The car screeched to a halt, just inches from what could have been a major t-boning. Violet and I looked at each other, quite startled.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah Mom, are you okay?”
“Yes bub. That was almost a very serious accident.”
The other vehicle, a black Toyota 4-Runner, pulled over down the road. We sat for a few seconds in the intersection, getting our bearings. I noticed the guy had completely blown a stop sign. That fucker!
I was going to have a word with him.
We pulled up next to his car, I rolled down my window and he rolled down his. He was a pretty boy. And he was pretty rattled.
“I am so sorry.” He said, slightly lisping.
“That was a close one,” I said, “We could’ve smashed, bad.”
“I know. I am so so sorry.”
“Alright. Please be careful. You don’t always get second chances.”
And then, we all went on our merry way.
“You handled that well,” said Violet.
“Yeah,” I mused, “Some people would have gotten out and punched the guy.”
We laughed. At that moment, each of us were just happy to be alive, in one, undamaged piece.
Happy Holidays, folks. Please drive safely!
Chicks Hit the Deck
Since they realized they can fly, the concept of a gated coop is moot. They’re now frequently spotted waddling their way around the neighborhood. The other day, they also discovered our deck over the pond, where the chickens wolfed down a fresh pile of cat barf, and then hopped up on the rail…
Just enjoying the view!
Ho ho ho – it’s Bananas!
NoPo’s Anti/Santacon ’11 was a raging success. Missed it? See for yourself! And be there Dec. 17th for round two, throughout downtown/NW Portland.
In case you’re wondering, “What’s up with the bananas?” Their explanation for themselves: Bananas are better than Santas because they actually exist. They do have a point…
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Grand Slam, Thank-you Ma’am
I have almost no eating restrictions. Standards, yes. I won’t eat anywhere with a drive-thru window. Living in Portland, Oregon (a certifiable foodie paradise) I prefer to “go local” whenever possible, enjoying the full spectrum of taste ticklers. That said, for me, the term “vegan” has historically been a tummy turn-off. Somehow, without butter, cheese and meat, I’ve found myself impressed only twice. And both were in one night, at last weekend’s grand opening of Missionary Chocolates.
According to the company’s website, “What began as an experiment in dairy-free truffles for Mom has grown into a thriving company.” Owner and chocolatier, Melissa Berry, ND, describes her mission, which is clearly driven with inspiration in making our community an even better place, “building a complementary health center here in Portland, funded by chocolate.”
The truffles were marvelous. My favorite had a hint of cinnamon, but the little morsel with a tiny espresso bean mounted on top was a close contender. Dark chocolate-covered pretzel-o’s were understandably popular, too. Big bowls of melted, dairy-free chocolate and caramel were strategically placed in the room, with a variety of dippers. I spotted one guy who dipped a chocolate truffle into more chocolate… and lots of faces, smeared with sauce-y glee.
After plenty of desert and a glass of pink wine, I returned to the table of delights to investigate something that caught my eye earlier: piles of colorful, crispy-looking squares, accompanied by jars of bright green spread. What I discovered were the most perfect crackers… and with the cilantro-pesto spread? It blew my mind!
The woman who makes these fine delectables has her own catering company, Eatin’ Alive. It’s “raw food & catering with a holiday twist.” You can choose from a variety of options: appetizers, main dishes, desserts & drinks. Her purple crackers (like triscuits, but a little fluffier and without the waffle pattern) were made of shredded beets. You’d never know it! The green crackers, shredded kale. Once I’d had seconds of each, I tracked down the lady who makes them, in hopes that I could buy some more, in bulk, immediately. I was fully planning to camp out in my car for the foreseeable future, eating veggie crackers with this magic pesto sauce. Fortunately (at the time) she didn’t have any surplus, so the spell was temporarily broken and I was able to continue on with my night.
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