This morning, while waiting for our yoga teacher to arrive, I sat outside in the sun with two other women, and prayed that I would not be invited to join their conversation.
“Have you let go?” one asked the other
“Yes, I have,” she answered, “I’ve let go of everything I can.”
“Have you become aware of the spaciousness around you,” the first woman wanted to know.
“Yes, it feels nice,” admitted the second.
“It takes awhile,” offered the first, “to understand that spaciousness comes from inside. It’s an internal process.”
My yoga buddies were talking about the effects of a minor health issue. But, it’s just as likely they might have been discussing a son or daughter leaving for college, or a change in hair color.
I get tongue-tied during these esoteric conversations.
All I want to do is work up a sweat in my Ashtanga class. I don’t want to think about what I don’t comprehend about internal spaciousness.
I live in a tie-dye town surrounded by wine vineyards. Our economy is driven by the over consumption of alcohol. Limousines for hire happily drive tourists to wineries where they sip a Russian River Pinot while attempting to comprehend what the wine pourer is talking about. He’ll ask if they smell the soil in the wine. And whether they taste the fruit forward splash of raspberry and apricot with a finish of chocolate and cinnamon.
All they want to do is get drunk, and flirt with their driver.
This is the Left Coast. I love it. It suits me. I live in a blue bubble. I love it that some old men on the Right use that term in the pejorative. It means they won’t be moving here anytime soon.
Since it’s a huge tourist draw, my little pocket of the Left Coast attracts an enormous number of daytrippers from all over the country. Once while wine tasting with friends from out of town we listened to a couple from Florida enter into a heated discussion with a couple from Seattle over guns. Naturally, the slow-witted mantra, guns don’t kill people, people do, was trotted out at high volume. To which the Seattle people responded: Tell that to the kid who is collateral damage in a shoot out.
The Florida couple was “outgunned” by the preponderance of Lefties.
All we want to do is convince the other side our paranoia is more worthy of outrage than theirs.
Yesterday on Facebook, that bastion of intolerance, someone deemed a celebrity sanctimonious. Irony is clearly lost on that dude along with self-awareness, and the definition of sanctimonious. No one is more sanctimonious than the guy who called out the celebrity as sanctimonious.
Isn’t that a great word, by the way?
All we want to do is castigate all those who do not share our worldview. I’m right, you’re wrong. Who can say it the loudest, and with the most venom?
I returned from yoga to find a terrified bumblebee pummeling itself against a sun-warmed window. Carefully, I wrapped him in a kitchen towel and escorted him safely out the door.
For a second he seemed to hover as if to say thank you for rescuing me. Or maybe he said fuck you for leaving the door open ushering him into a labyrinth of turmoil and despair.
I don’t understand the esoteric buzz or body language of bees. But, I aim to learn. Through this study maybe I’ll expand my consciousness, and come to understand the nature of internal spaciousness. It’s worth a try.
Or maybe not. One thing I do know is how easy it is to finish a bottle of Russian River Pinot Noir.
THANK YOU! to all my commenters on the previous post. I appreciate you! It’s lovely to see everyone again after so long an absence. I’ll visit you all to catch up on what you’ve been up to!