Yoga and Real Estate

Sometimes I forget that the world doesn’t revolve around money.  That there is abundance.  Sometimes I’m afraid to even research what I think I might want because I blindly assume it’s too expensive or that it’s not in the cards for me and I might as well find some other avenue.  I did this with yoga and it took me a long time to come to the realization that I was creating scarcity where it did not exist.

After a year’s hiatus I’ve finally gotten back into a regular practice.  I had an embarrassing  panic attack on Halloween weekend and decided I need to do something to mellow myself out.  Still thinking a yoga studio membership would be too expensive for me or that I lack the dedication, I did some research and found a promo pass from Yoga Garden a few blocks from my house for 3 weeks of unlimited visits, 33$.  After my promo runs out I’ll be able to subsidize my workout expense with design.  A lot of studios will allow you to sort of co-op your way in.  You can watch the front desk, clean toilets, do laundry, all kinds of things (It’s better to negotiate than price shop all over town.  You want to practice at a convenient location, otherwise you might not practice at all.)  Ah, it feels good to be in my body right now.  I feel un-irritated, calm, so glad I found a studio to call home.

If you think you want to do something, go to a class, dance, work out, grow pot, whatever, don’t be an f’ing chicken like I was, all that wasted time.  We have plenty of options…  and there’s no real life reason to be afraid to ask for what we want.    We only get these so many days to entertain ourselves and then we’re all going to die.

I’ve been listening to Real Estate lately.  They sound like the beach.


I’m Having an Adele Day

…for the first time in months.  I woke up to the sound of Keenan’s early alarm and after a hug and kiss, I was home alone.

I put on my purple robe (nothing sexy, a terry-cloth fat-kid size with very short sleeves and a monkey playing bass on the back) and dug around the webs for new music.  I made some calls, did some work, put up dishes, made a peach pizza for noon-thirty breakfast and went costume shopping with Mary and Jesse on the Lower Haight shortly after.

Here’s when the good part happened.  Mary dropped me off a few blocks from my house so that I could walk home.  I passed by this mural full of black people singing, auras glowing.  There was a perfect fall breeze that shuffled the leaves on the trees and sidewalk.  The sunlight was twinkling all around and as if the good witch struck through my core I felt like, this is it.  This is right where I’m supposed to be.  I’m doing exactly what I should be doing in this moment.  My head was clear and I loved everything.  Then I just finished walking home, very slowly until I passed the mural of course.  I’m doing mundane tasks now but that feeling is still in me, that glow of, “Oh yeah, this is what’s up.”  This is what I am.  This is what I do.  This is what I love.  This is an Adele Day.

To commemorate this very special day, here is one of my favorite songs of all time.  Department of Eagles, In Ear Park.


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Last week I went to my first Vipassana course.  A Vipassana course is a free 10 day silent retreat where you learn Vipassana meditation, meditation of observation, the way of the Buddah, Dhamma.  There are centers all over the world.  I’ve wanted to go for years because I’ve never been able to meditate for more than 10 minutes at a time even though I’ve  recognized the inkling of a deep benefit in stillness.

I don’t want to share too much about the actual work of vipassana meditation.  The thought of extreme bordom might scare  you even though it isn’t boring, just tedious.  I also don’t want to share much about my experience because I don’t want it to color yours being that meditation is so deeply personal.  I will say that  I now have a much sharper and subtler mind than before.  Through my continuous practice I see the world with more love and compassion than I used to.  And this all takes work, diligent work.  Before I had always intellectualized knowing the body, awakening, etc.  Now I am working.  Now I am really experiencing some of these great truths in my body and in my life.  Very exciting.  Ithink anyone can benefit from one of these retreats.

Here is the website:
Goenka describing Vipassana Meditation:

More Than Enough

The sweat lodge was beautiful- a Native American tradition where and entire community huddles shoulder to shoulder in a 5 foot high pitch black tent and sweats in the heat of lava rock. I was trapped as far away from the opening as I could possibly be but I learned to feel power in that. Escape wasn’t an option so I just had to suck it up- and then remember to blow it out. That shit is hot and claustrophobic as hell. The chief compared it to the womb. But yeah, it was definitely more like hell. A beautiful calamity.

Today I worked housekeeping. I stripped rooms which means I set the pace, exhausting. I thought a lot about my love. I used to worry that my love was as fleeting as all of my other interests or endeavors. This thing with Griffin has proven otherwise. I’m realizing that it might never go away but I’m becoming OK with that. I have more than enough love.

Things I Love

I was just cleaning out my Myspace when I realized how long it’s been since I’ve written a Things I Love list. Too long. So here goes:

8 grain bagels from the Walmart deli with cream cheese and fresh strawberries

Running at night while listening to The National (I miss you Brendan!)

The time between Elizabeth telling me I’m finished with my sidework and Dad arriving to take me home from M’s

Drinking High Life with Nick under an umbrella on the beach

Riding my bike at night down the section of the road that doesn’t have streetlights and looking up at the stars

Painting on the balcony on a cool day, finishing a painting, loving it, showing it off

Going to the movies with my family

Riding bikes to the grocery with my dad

Looking for shells with Kathy

Letters from Mary Allison

Late night phone calls from Nick

Finding new music on

Exploring new hotels

Red Snapper

Vampire Weekend

The Triangle

Cocktails with Lisa in the Castle

A night on the town with my little sister, dancing and laying in fountains

Idiot Box Meditation

Today I slept until 1:40 pm and I feel GREAT. I have the house to myself. There’s lots of food here and I have my bicycle to get around on and a fun job to look forward to. Last night I talked to Nick on the phone till 3am, 4am his time. He’s already found multiple places for me to show when I get home and sometimes he spaces out and thinks he’s here with me. It’s nice.

Yesterday I watched an episode of Dharma and Greg. Greg stopped being a lawyer so he could do some self discovery. He didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore. So after a certain amount of time, months maybe, I wasn’t really paying much attention, he secretly began practicing law again. He didn’t tell Dharma because he thought she’d be disappointed he didn’t end up becoming something more on his journey, like he’d half-assed his self-discovery, but she already knew. Because she could tell he was meant to practice law even when he was unsure. All roads lead to home. I’m so happy that I too am ending up where I started, but with clear eyes.


I’ve been reading a lot of Etgar Keret, staring at a lot of Perry Bible Fellowship. I need this bit of morbid inspiration to help propel me into the next phase of my life, phase dominate via chill pill. I’m walking a cable bridge, over a body of water more substantial than Biscuit Creek. Floating to my right is 30-year-old hipster, to my left is floundering domestic. Behind me is an unidentifiable tuft of sweetness, ahead is a “found” self that reeks of sage and nag-champa. What can I do but let go and crash into the water? Hopefully I become a mermaid before I’m caught in the screw of the failboat. And that’s always the hope isn’t it? To effortlessly transcend the archetype- to finally “be ourselves” and realize that that was what’s missing from this world, our pure and innocent selves. I want to see that my snowflake shape magically makes the jigsaw puzzle work, that I was what’s missing.

This week David gave up drinking, then talking because he needs something he can control. I’m jealous that he can define his shape so well, the shape of crazy.

I honestly feel like I’ve been in rehab for a year. I’ve named my problem and made moves to fix it in a controlled environment but because of this, I don’t know how I’ll handle the shock of the real world in 3 weeks. I’ll be home in 3 weeks. I know how quickly Frost Valley can turn into just a dream, how not hiking every day will make me skinny again, how competitive I can be when it comes to making art around other artists and when I fail I hide, and when I fail at love I hide. I have to stay strong and calm and take my proverbial chill pill on the daily and remember this day when I love myself very much. I need to remember how strong and able I am at this very moment. My love lives in my feet and in my belly, not in the air and not in someone else’s arms. MY LOVE is vibrant and smooth and pulses like the sun all through me.

Meeting My Mirror Self

OK- I’m gonna talk to myself in the mirror.

Hello, this is me.
Why can I not look at myself?
Why can I not talk to to you?
Why do I feel like I’m being really mean?
Why am I just now noticing how crooked I talk?
OK, I’m gonna talk to you (in my teacher voice)
OK adele, I’m really gonna talk to you. This is weird. Because it’s dark? (stalling to type a while- from here out, I will only paraphrase. My typing is sucking life out of the moment- like photography often does “let’s facebook this one!”)
But no, I must document these strange sensations. Like the feeling that I’m existing in this void between me and the mirror. And that I can’t say I love you to myself. I can say it in my head and no one is in or near my cabin but me and my mirror self- but it is really hard to say it and I feel like when I finally do, something in me will change. And slowly I’m realizing that I’m not talking crooked at all, and that I seem like an OK person to talk to.

And where I thought talking to myself in the mirror would feel vain, it doesn’t at all. It transcends that It’s like meeting a new friend- but it’s me.

Maybe we should just do this all day
…(but does she want to do this all day, and what would we do? Insecurities setting in)
(I’m noticing how much I look away when I talk. When I look back, she is already looking at me, probably noticing how much I can’t look at her)

We talked for a while- or I talked anyway. I told her I love her, but all the while I was looking for the tiny flaws. I told her I wasn’t normally this critical of other people, and that I wished she could talk so she could tell me what she thought of my paintings. I told her that I worry my painting is like masterbation. That all she’s left with is the gooey cumstuff and the triviality of after. Is there any real way to contain and share a moment?