Wednesday, June 12, 2013


Ingredients for this My Time: a yoga mat, a yoga membership, a summer heat, and low nights.

Oh Honey, I just LOVE working out. I mean YOGA. It's not EXERCISE, it's BECOMING A BETTER PERSON. Which can't happen when you jog. Duh. And how I LONG to become a better person.

So when each summer rolls around and I'm off from all my charity work in the Midwest, I travel to the West Coast of the United States and begin my PRACTICE. But alas, this summer, I've decided to stay in the Midwest for the summer, where I can just as easily do my PRACTICE and also not spend time with my mother, Empress Von ThighMaster. She's busy tanning, anyway.

But, ALAS, I realized that my understanding of a PRACTICE from my kooky, wordly ways in not the same as a PRACTICE in the Midwest. My Goddess Pose was NOT well received the first time I brought it out.

But alas, I think the wonderful Midwestern politeness has saved me, for no one has mentioned anything ever. And yet, Honey, because I'm a fucking rich cunt--so fucking rich--I can't understand a lot of the yoga I've experienced in the Midwest, and because (just a reminder) I'm such a fucking rich cunt, I can't help but gasp at what I'm experiencing.
Some things I hear while my face is bent over in my crotch:

"When I say the word 'prana,' THAT'S OKAY. If you're Christian, and I AM A CHRISTIAN, this word might make you uncomfortable. But it just means 'energy.' And Christian or non-Christian has energy."

"If you read old books you'll see that western medicine is wrong when it doesn't account for meridians. The east knows about meridians."

"The meaning of words is only possible in opposites. We would have no idea what 'hot' is or how it feels if we didn't know the word 'cold.' It's yin and yang."

"Twist to put your left elbow on your left knee."

"When the flies land on you during your PRACTICE here it's an opportunity to still your mind."

"I look toward the East."

Because the drugs have made me daft, I wonder, why don't the Christians have flies landing on them? And who made a trip to Tuesday Morning for all those amazing candle holders? If I clean my yoga mat with a natural antibacterial wipe, do they clean theirs with holy water? Can Christian Yoga ever encompass Kundalini Yoga i.e. can they RELEASE THE SNAKE?

Doing yoga in my small town outside of my fabulous mini-mansion is kind of like taking a vacation, Honey. I mean, with all the flies on me, it's like I'm in India without the dysentery. I mean, THE EAST (CUE FIREWORKS). And, forgive your little Daggy, but I do feel like a stranger in my home. Like a little runway muffin looking for a new path. I mean, PRACTICE. As I got excited to settle in this summer and strengthen relationships with friends and lovers in my town, IRONY happened, for in this summer heat I found a calm cold.
You see, Honey, maybe it's because of the drugs, maybe it's because of the espionage, maybe it's because I left my heart along the way with RODRIGO in the 1980s while I was at Andelay's in Puerta Vallarta
                                              maybe it's because I'm a soul musketeer
                                          maybe it's because goddesses bring death, suffocating warmth, 
                                          and too many arms to hold the world which they always hold, maybe
                                          it's because of how here, running the charity committee I
                                                   instead of elsewhere, where I

                                         and maybe it's because how I think of myself, my
                                         power in the world, is changing from FUN shame
                                    to an older sureness of calm battle, a good cartoon fantasy,

but something is shifting around in here. The battles look different, and here I am, with my selenite orb, with my flourite orb, with my clay. Staring. Solid. Present tense. Crazy as ever. And leaving a lot of shit, a lot of people, a lot of strength behind. So here I am, in the Midwestern summer, freckled and pink from my Crunches with Christ, getting good work done and being alive. Maybe this Midwestern yoga is really working.

Something stirs here in the summer and I like it along with my stomach muscles and red wine spritzer.

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