Flooding during hurricane

During and after the flood Sunday.

Playful spirits

I have been thinking about how incredibly comfortable I feel being here-and being myself. So many people, of all ages, are open and playful. It's normal to do goofy things, if you choose, and many people will gladly fall right into a funny scenario with you. Its not like the campus is sophomoric, because it is not. A good example of this playful Omega experience is this: one of the full time staffers made a "pony" by putting a child's hobby horse head into a spray bottle which happens to perfectly fit into our golf cart's cup holder (many departments use carts to do their work). Sometimes my office, Guest Services will ask Tony if we can borrow the head, and then viola, we have a perfect pony's head looking out as we drive.  For a few days we also had a great pin wheel on the front of the cart. Another example, the hurricane left a large puddle in front of my friend's tent site. So what did he do? He went out and bought 2 rubber ducks to place in the water. That's Omega creativity for you. I was wondering about it-why this joi de vivre is prevalent here. Is it that many people are actively pursuing spiritual practices? That it attracts happy service minded individuals? The mix of young college age people up to people in their 60's? Maybe all of that and more. Those of you reading this who have been living and or working with me lately know I live to laugh-so I picked a good spot right!

Fall mornings

Well, those of you who know me, or perhaps only Ilene, will know I tend to start off my writings talking about the weather. Today is no exception. Being up here in Dutchess county, I am already experiencing a nip in the air. At the end of  August for c@%& sake! Luckily I have a mummy sleeping bag. I have awoken many a morning to find myself completely zipped in and the fabric over my face, with no memory of having done so during the night. Then of course in the morning I don't want to get out of the sleeping bag. That's the kind of thing you think about when you live in a tent. Other things that become important: how far away am I from the bath house? Am I really going to get up, put on shoes, (leave the warmth of the sleeping bag) to go pee or pee in another container? (Kate what's your guess!!?) How fast can I zip the tent closed so as not to invite bugs in? Are those frogs I hear and how in god's sake did they get so loud? Will the coyotes call tonight and will it still feel eerie and wonderful? How much mold is REALLY growing underneath the tent platform? And so on...It makes life very simple and straight forward.

Last night I went to bed at 7:30 for some reason. But this made it easy for me to awaken at 3:30 am to go to my first Sadhana. Sadhana is the morning prayer/rituals/mantra done by Kundalini yoga practitioners. Since there is a big Kundalini session taking place here on campus this week, and I know little about it, I thought I would take advantage of the opportunity to attend. Let me tell you the campus was gorgeous at that time of night.

Right upon awakening I heard the coyotes a few miles away checking in with each other. I  had two instances on my walk to the building where I heard growling..."Kristi you're not in Brooklyn anymore." The walk to the Main Hall was accompanied by a dark sky pierced with stars and a bright sickle moon. Upon entering the dimly lit Hall I saw about 100 people mostly wearing white clothes and turbans in various positions of repose on top of yoga mats and with back jacks (soft floor chairs). The teacher sat up on the stage with his eyes closed while beautiful Indian  music played. I found a place and settled in.This, after being asked to leave a spot that another participant said she went to yesterdays-jeesh. I could go on about the intricacies of Kundalini Sadhana practice, the ardous physical kriyas, (cleansing & energetic practices), mantras and yoga; suffice it to say, the practice is not for me. But glad I went.

the invitation

Went to a yoga class today with someone I had never taken from before but had a good feeling about. I had an amazing physical and spiritual heart opening. What a wonderful morning. The class was in a wooden cottage with windows overlooking the trees so it looked like you were in a tree house. Here is the poem which Alice read as a prompt for us to set our intention to (for the class). I imagine that some of you know this poem well. Its a good reminder though. One of my intentions being here this summer is to discover the next path. And, to live more from "yes".

The Invitation   Oriah Mountain Dreamer Canadian Teacher and Author
	It doesn't interest me what you do for a living I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love for your dreams for the adventure of being alive. It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon... I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain mine or your own without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy mine or your own if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful be realistic to remember the limitations of being human. It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure yours and mine and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes." It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children. It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.   ©

Bits and pieces

I am teaching myself Tarot! I am having so much fun. I imagined that learning tarot would involve memorizing or reading  volumes of comments. But I found a book that has me using my own imaginings, intuition etc. to learn my way with my cards. I never thought I would like it so much!!! I bought the familiar  Rider-Waite deck. It is like I have returned to an old house that I used to live in. "Hello, I remember your colors, your images." I bought the cards as a tool for self-reflection rather than "fortune telling"; as another way to listen to what I know. I can't wait to get home and choose some fabric to keep my cards in.  Mom, the lineage continues!!
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I can do hula hoop once more. Felt down because last month I couldn't and remembered how much I liked it as a kid. Ah, the key grasshopper is to move your hips forward and back not in a circle. The Neo-hippy kids on campus have introduced me to light-up hula hoops. I went to a staff dance last week and did my own rave with the hoops. Go Kristi, represent..
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If you are in to slam poetry check out Marshall "Soulful" Jones. He was on campus last week (straight from B'klyn yoh). What a wonderful and talented young man. An amazing actor and nubile writer. The poems I heard were so powerful ( one was in the context of a spelling-bee, about fatherless kids, "How do you spell father? "M-O-T-H-E-R.") I literally had my mouth open and tears in my eyes. And believe me I am a harsh critic of much artwork and performance. He's the National Slam Poetry contest winner. Look him up on you tube-I promise it won't be a waste. Besides that he and his wife, Coco and their 5 month old  baby Nebula, lit up the campus with their openness, kindness and love. Yoh, Nebula rocks those hair bows!
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Still quitting coffee (that's for you Ilene!) and mostly successful. But woefully unable so far to stay away from the deserts. Planning to go totally raw for a bit when I get home. Rode my bike to Rhinebeck twice now! It takes about 15 min. in a car. Me , I don't know how long, but there are some gnarly hills.
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Re-met an old yoga teacher from 15(?) years ago, who remembered me! So far, since I have been here, three people have appeared on campus who know me, and I recognize them too, but we can't remember from where. Hmmm
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Its family week here on campus and the teenagers are so magnetic. A lot of them are returning for a multiple time. They are amazing in the intensity of the love they show when meeting their friends. Shout-out to youth!

Love to hear from any and all who are reading this.
Namaste, Kristi

Monday August 8th

 How does one connect to spirit and listen to the heart? This is what I have been working with these last two weeks. Taking workshops with different teachers and doing many guided visualizations  to listen to what my subconscious knows. I have come to one decision. I am returning to massage for the near future, if not longer, with a true committment in a way I have never done.  I want to build a private office practice and find a mentor. One of my gifts lies in massage and I want to honor that.

Another vision of having my own yoga studio has been coming up. A small place, a sanctuary for me to teach in and create a community of like minded people. Yet when I think of this idea-returning to yoga, a lot of fear arises. I have learned that these times when feelings come up they are your friend. On this one issue I do not know which is a real want or a "should". I know that I need to take my time and listen. Invite my fear in for a cup of tea.

                 This being human is a guest house, Every morning is a new arrival.
                  A joy, a depression, a meanness, Some momentary awareness comes
                  As an unexpected visitor.
                  Welcome, and entertain them all!
                  Even if they're a crowd of sorrows who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture.
                  Still, treat each guest honorably.
                  He may be clearing you out
                  for some delight.
                  The dark thought, the shame, the malice
                  Go to the door laughing, and invite them in.
                  Be grateful for whoever comes
                  For each has been sent as a guide from beyond.


                                                                      Rumi