Remix

I've been soaking up some great remixes in a few yoga classes recently and it got me thinkin', going beyond the moves, what does it mean to remix? What would it mean to bring the idea of the remix and remixing into a yoga class and off the mat into life?



A remix takes a song and either adds a different beat, or messes rhythmically with the lyrics. Basically to remix means to take something already in existence and make it your own. It is indeed a message that is imbued in the yoga classes I attend with Brendan at Stretch, and indeed the place where I hear these remixes. Take the poses and make them your own, add your bass line. Take the flow and make it your own, where are you going to put the chorus? Maybe you'll leave it out all together. Your breath is your baseline, follow it and remix the class into your body.

Some of the most beautiful classes I've been too have had everyone flowing in all directions, but breath is loud and focus is intense. My other favourite yoga moment that embodies this principle is circles of Om where everyone starts together but, as each person runs out of breath, they each start again in their own time -- the circle of Om thus becomes wavelike. And somehow it subsides all together - everyone tuning in to themselves while keeping an ear to the ocean.

While we all take comfort in a set routine, or a set taught sequence, there is a beauty to knowing the flux of your own body, to really listening in. Find the space to explore teachings -- put your thing down, drop it, and reverse it -- find the rhythm of your breath, hear the beating of your heart, spin your remix.

My Fire, My Hearth

Last week I spoke of my abs, questioning their connection, never really feeling how exactly they connect to my body, how they fit in. I've been turning over the idea in my head all week, keeping it somewhere at the back of my mind, and had a little moment of clarity in yoga class yesterday.

As a Sagittarian, I've always known that my zodiac is a fire sign, but haven't really felt it until recently. I know that I can have a very fiery personality, intense passion, searing zeal, and sometimes a burning bluntness. Harnessing this fire has been a journey; fires can be violent and aggressive, but they can also be nurturing, warming, welcome. While paradoxical, it is interesting to reframe fire in a positive way. In meditations, I have been naturally finding mandala mudra. (As seen below, put your right open palm on top of your left, and bring the thumbs to touch) It is, apparently, a gesture of wholeness. This position places my inner flame in my abdomen.

I've also dug up my haramaki (from http://www.haramakilove.com/). It is a garment -- I guess you'd call it a belly band -- that is of Japanese origin, actually originally worn by Samurai underneath their armour. In modern incarnation, it has become both a fashion and health accessory (the latter to help stimulate warmth in the belly's organs). It's really helped me become more aware of my belly, my abs, and how it supports my back and really acts as a center-point for my whole body.

I've come to visualize my abdomen as a hearth, a fire that stokes my body. Keeping such a visualization to mind in yoga and life, it can be quite strengthening to get into that central fire.

From the Mat

I've decided that I am going to start a series of writings, little reflective posts, in the style of  those encouraging inward-turning messages that some yoga teachers use as a guiding principle throughout their classes. Thinking back to the powerful and influential teachers of my past -- their words of advice, their visual imagery, their flips in perspective -- a few of their inspired and articulate phrases have stuck with me over time -- not just through class, but through the rest of my life as well.

So stay tuned, nuggets of yogic inspiration coming soon...

Journeying to the Core

For as long as I can remember, I've known that my 'weakpoint' has always been my core. It isn't that I don't have abdominal muscles. Really, it's more complicated then that. I think it is so easy for so many other muscles to jump into movements meant specifically for abs. Whether in a yoga class or following a podcast, the amount of attention I need to REALLY focus on my abs is seldom fully engaged. Honestly, if a class went at the speed I needed to be aware of my abdominals at every moment, it would be moving at the rate of molasses. And not that that is a bad thing. Such considered movement, feeling what it may feel like to alter some attention or fire on different muscles, would be such an incredible guided meditation of the body.

Part of my problem too is that I don't really know what the abdominals are connected to. I know they underline the whole thorax and basically ARE the midsection of the body and going to the ribs and whatever. But I fail to see how abs are supposed to be a powerhouse for inversions. I mean where do they connect? Curious, I did look it up and found the amazing muscle anatomy below -- the coolest thing I found was the little patch of muscle between the front and back body, showing the posterior abdominal muscles -- they connect down to the legs, making the link between abs and inner thighs a little more enlightened.

Now for it all to sink in and rev into use, that's another journey.

Fire & Ice

After a fire at a Chicago warehouse, an unreal landscape.

Snowball fights ensued.

Lost Wax

Last night, I popped into White Cube (Mason's Yard) to see the latest work of Belgian artist Kris Martin. I was met with a purity of form, both material and intellectual, that really struck a chord with me. Downstairs were a series of found prints, playfully altered, along with a sculpture installation consisting of a series of sandstone blocks, tombstone-like in form, arranged like dominos. Chilling, pure, playful, morbid. It's an installation that fires the mind, shifting accepted form into a new space.

For me, however, his Lost Wax series was truly fascinating above all else. Here too, Martin plays with accepted form and recreates it in another incantation. Here, eighteen shelves from an apiary have been cast in bronze using the lost wax technique. Intricate fragile details have been rendered immortal. It is a marvel to witness and has real weight. Considering the reality of the decline of bee population worldwide, both the title of the series as well as the monuments Martin creates strike a poignant note.

Does the work have value? On one hand it can be considered decorative and simple, but I don't believe this is fair, Martin's aesthetic is an exceeding strength, masterfully crafted; there is, additionally, a subtle yet powerful intellectual engagement with form, shifting and re-engineering it in novel ways. A show definitely worth seeing.

Images courtesy of White Cube

Magicienne

Fernand Khnopff (Belgian, 1858-1921)
Magicienne
oil on panel
18 x 7.3cm (7 1/16 x 2 7/8in).Painted circa 1906


'Magicienne depicts a strong woman invested with unearthly powers, standing alone in the narrow space, a format favoured by the artist. Dressed in rich robes and adorned with heavy jewellery she stands immobile and implacable. Khnopff presents her in a typically elaborate and highly decorative manner, her regal air perhaps explaining her previous misidentification as a Queen. 

The formative influences of Delacroix, Gustave Moreau and the Pre-Raphaelites, particularly Rossetti and Burne-Jones, and the artist's love of Symbolist poetry and Decadent literature are suffused through the depiction of theMagicienne. She represents an ideology of doubling, simultaneously close and far away, blurred and precise, strong and fragile. Further, Khnopff seems to be paying tribute to his personal philosophy On ne a que soi (one only has oneself), making this work both introspective and out of reach. 

In the early 1970s Magicienne was acquired by the Galleria dei Bibliofili in Milan, founded by Piero Fornasetti, one of the most innovative designers of the twentieth century. Along with his friend Gio Ponti, Fornasetti revolutionised interior design and was instrumental in making Italian design famous all over the world. It passed from Bibliofili to Philippe Daverio, a professor and art critic well known in Italy for his original and highly popular TV art programmes. Daverio then gifted the painting to the renowned architect, painter and designer Massimo Scolari.'

Up for auction at Bonham's Impressionist and Modern Art sale on February 5, 2013.

States of Play

During a recent trip to New York, I crossed paths with some interesting works of art that seemed difficult to conjure from a description of their elements. With ‘Shadow Monsters’ from Philip Worthington and Christian Marclay’s 'The Clock' at MoMA and Ann Hamilton’s ‘The Event of a Thread’ at the Park Avenue Armory, the experience of the artworks far surpassed the initial description. Numerous times throughout the trip people would ask me, is it really worth seeing? Is it really that good? The answer was always yes.

While waiting to view ‘The Clock’, Worthington’s wild shadow play enveloped us.  Standing in front of a bright white screen, the shadows of both the young and the young-at-heart were transformed with the aid of some sort of computer technology, adding shapes and sounds to contours of people in the projections on two walls. The resulting silhouettes on the screens enlivened shadow-play to monstrous proportions – yet in a very sweet and fun way. Both young and old leapt at the opportunity to dance around in front of the screen. A din of laughter and levity filled the room, this is what smiles sound like.

‘The Clock’ hadn’t really been on my radar to be honest. And when I read the description about cinematic snippets of clocks strung together, I was still ho-hum. But the ladies at the information desk had been so enthusiastic, I decided that it was worth a look (and my mother was beyond keen and curious as well!). Inside, the experience was mind-blowing. Yes, snippets of clocks from film over the last hundred years, BUT, coordinated with the actual time and lasting 24-hours! I could have stayed in that theatre for hours, the editing was so well done, bits from movies melded together seamlessly, dialoguing with one another. Truly fascinating and quite topical given our time-obsessed spliced digital world.

And finally, some swings, and a piece of cloth – anything special? The elements of Ann Hamilton’s ‘The Event of a Thread’ didn’t sound like much but when you enter the triumphant space of The Armory, you enter a different world. I was transported by her work. A sparse space filled with a field of swings was the beginning. The childhood activity (where ARE the swings for adults these days?) transports, and a room separated by a large billowing white curtain, moving in response to the swings brings ethereality to another level.  On one end a table with two readers reading endless scrolls surrounded by caged pigeons. On the other end a table with a solitary woman writing, while a circular mirror above her head pivots sporadically. All these players wear felt cloaks like medieval riding coats. There was something fascinating in the construction of this world and my immersion within it. Ethereal and mysterious, thinking of the threads that connect everyone and everything on so many levels. Here too, as in ‘Shadow Monsters’, both young and old wandered about, swung and lay beneath the billowing curtain. 

All the artworks I saw seemed to activate the idea of play, whether reconfiguring filmic details, extrapolating shadow-play, or constructing a fantastical world.  Marvelous to see such a spirit alive in the world of art.

Photos by Ewa Monika Zebrowski

Legs up to there

I've had a little niggle in my lower back lately -- nothing crazy or worrisome. Just a bit tender, maybe from crazy inversions, maybe from the wild amount of book lifting from last week, but whatever. It seems to have set itself right after a week of taking things easily and more considered.

The pain, as angering and frustrating and stupid as it was, also made me more aware as I worked into poses. I have always known my core to be my weak(er) point and something I need to activate more. Well, nothing like a little pain in the low back to get you back into feeling. A roadblock, detour ahead. Yeah, you want to go to your back? Think again, that road is closed! Take the core path.

I also became aware of this incredible muscle in the body called the PSOAS, which links the bottom of the spinal column (starting at the 12th thoracic vertebrae) through the hips to the upper inner thigh bone. It is one of the largest and thickest muscles in the body (also known as the tenderloin in animals).  Check it out below, cool eh?

Apparently it is a tough muscle to massage, needing access through the hip, accessed under the intestines, quite the personal area, smack IN the hips, a space full of emotion.

But anyways, seeing the layout of this muscle, it got me thinking about internal rotation of the legs, and the sheer length of the legs. Internally rotating my legs, thinking of the PSOAS, means that I am accessing that muscle but also extending into opening my back. So my legs don't end with my leg bones but actually extend into my lower back. Now that is something to think about in yoga classes. Learning anatomy (and getting injured, HA!) is just an incredible way to deepen a practice.

Believe

There are a few conversations in my little life thus far (27 beckons on Monday), that I remember with utmost clarity and gravity.

Out to dinner one night with a friend, I remember talking about astrology or energy or chakras or something like that and I was quite shy, sheepish and dismissive about it. Calmly, he responded something to the effect 'If you believe it, own it'.

Ever since I have remembered that moment and chosen to be steadfast and bold in my beliefs; believe in who you are.

Two days later

When I was in high school and college, more than having a good night's sleep the night before, the common advice became to get a good night's sleep two nights before. Somehow the body and the mind has a memory that goes beyond 24 hours.

Two days after the inversions workshop I did, I find myself finding new little spots to stretch and discover, when yesterday I was feeling good.

The body in constant evolution.

Vegan. Discuss.

A surefire way to stimulate conversation? Go vegan.

I can't tell you the number of conversations I have had about the way I am eating lately. Invariably it begins with a quizzical inventory of what I don't eat. Which naturally leads to a curiosity to how long I've been holding this up. And then a discussion of what I do eat and what I am missing.

Really, I don't mind this conversation. People are curious, I enjoy chatting about food. It is a way to share knowledge.

What is really interesting are the stories that come out. This past weekend, with guests over for dinner, we talked about veganism and how it affects travel, but, more interestingly, we talked about different approaches to food, family stories, personal histories. Food is universal and we all have some sort of relationship to it, as fuel, as family time, as personal journey. It truly is fascinating.

Let Life Surprise You

Yesterday, I went to an inversions workshop with a lot of floating, flipping, jumping... Now, I've always been able to get up with a wall nearby but somehow, being further away, I've always freaked out.

Learning to fall (tucking your chin to your sternum) was a good first step. I tried distancing myself away from the wall, with plenty of cushy mat to fall on, but still, my instinct was not wanting to fall out of forearm stand. I knew I could do it, but a big mental hurdle remained. Brendan, the teacher, simply said, I can't help you. And while infuriating, he was right, that mental block has nothing to do with strength or alignment - all things that are already in my arsenal - this last step of the journey I would have to go at alone.

Then, somewhere near the end of class, we were going through scorpion pose, and I distanced myself a little further from the wall, maybe a little more than an arm's length - not too close, but not too far - and, tired from a long day of yoga, floated up into a forearm stand, and then leaned into a scorpion, wall-free.

And there it was. That moment when it all clicks. When things snap into place quietly and without warning. Without thinking. Sometimes life just surprises you.

Ask for What You Want

Yesterday I got my ears lowered as my beloved childhood babysitter used to say when I got my hair cut. A funny little barber shop around the corner from my house called Rocket Barber Shop. All the guys cutting, using mostly electric trimmers, had slick hair and some sort of ink. Vintage knickknacks covered the walls, 50s music blared from the open hood of the half car that sat in the corner. I kinda felt like I was on the set of Grease.

Anyways, I was getting my hair cut and had a very clear idea of what I wanted. When my barber thought he was done, I made another request. And then another. While I felt a bit pushy, I truly just believe that I was asking for what I wanted. In the end, I left satisfied with my cut - a feeling I rarely have after a haircut. But the formula is simple, ask for what you want, communicate and those around you will hear your voice.

Pick a Word

A short post, just an idea really, based on a happenstance experiment last night.

A great way to switch up your playlist instead of searching for artist or album? Just pick a word. Brown, Fall, Right, Where... whatever really, see what happens - it can lead to a fun foray through your music library.

Last night's Fall playlist was quite the experience.

Searing Savasana

Something happened in last night's class. Deep in a pigeon pose approached from a different angle, I was able to approach a pose that usually causes me strife by sinking into its layers, breathing into the depths of the muscles, finding tightness. At one point I saw the decorative molding of my Montreal home's front door, so very clearly; I saw the corner down the street, where Elmwood hits Wiseman. Corners, squares, hips. It was such depth even though I found myself with much internal chatter all through class, feeling places of strain and ache and pull more acutely and loudly than before.

And this morning, I woke up in a swirling cloud of energy, I could feel it in my abdomen, in my belly. Light, heat. It's a weird space to enter, uncomfortable, ugly, brambled. And I kept exploring, kept getting nowhere. Breathing into the energy as it surged. A cleaning?

And this evening's yoga class, almost immediately in a trusted space, I dropped into that mindspace of dreams, unfocused darting eyes, a quivering energy. It returned at the end of class in savasana, that pulsing energy, in my forehead, in my chest, in my belly. An energy that is there and existent but non-descript. Going deeper into a room with no space. Call it a searing savasana, call it whatever you want, I just know that the energy becomes fascinating, exploring a depth beyond the body but within it. Unleashing, exploring, this body and this mind are wondrous.

Just a Thought: Take Your Vitamins

Yesterday I forgot and felt a little off-kilter, until I realized why perhaps, I forgot my vitamins! (Or one could also blame the eclipsing full moon?). Amazing how in tune with the subtleties of my body and its shift I have become in this new lifestyle.

With the crossover to veganism, never has it been more important to take my vitamins every day. So important to have your nutritional bases covered.

Not much of a post, just a thought.

Big Guns

It took me by surprise. I was eating dinner with my roommate and we got to talking about our developing yoga practices and she started pointing out muscles that have been changing, and then she turned to me. Look at your muscles, and, for the first time in two or so weeks since I have really poured myself back into my asana practice, I took a look. And bang.

I don't usually post photos of my biceps, but then again, I've never been the guy with the big guns (don't worry I won't become a meathead). I've always been teetering on the edge of satisfied and remiss with regards to my body image, remaining committed to my own regime or non-regime or what have you. I never took to weight training as I thought it was unnatural; I've always believed that to be truly in shape I'd rely solely on my own body and its weight. I grew up eating pretty healthy and leading an active enough lifestyle, running in highschool before finding yoga in college; I've always been lean and slim.

So mid-cleanse at the beginning of this month, something just clicked. With a renewed dedication to founding health for my body, I clicked right back into my yoga practice which had lay fallow for quite a while. Finding a motivating local teacher was definitely another key factor in the equation.

And now, not focusing on the end goal of getting muscles but instead revved about the meditative aspect and the breath/space/strength awareness of the yogic practice in concert with a vegan, gluten-free, sugar-free and alcohol-free lifestyle, I find myself getting results I didn't think possible. BAM. Part of me is still a bit in awe of the transformation. Somehow body conception vs. the actual image of the body haven't always met up at the same point in my life. Regardless, I am definitely superbly in tune with my body more than ever before. And it shows. If it all feels good and this is what happens? I'll take it.

108 Lessons in These Beads

I used to have a set of mala beads a few years ago. I lived in them, meditated with them, wore them to yoga, showered with them. Eventually through such excessive wear, the chain broke. I found them to be a grounding presence, rosewood beads linked together with red string, a quiet power.

So, finally, I've gotten a new set of beads, which, once again I am living in, unbeknownst to those around me. Somehow I feel more confident with them on - as a bracelet, as a necklace - I'm not quite sure why -- perhaps they bring me out of moments of nervousness and fear, to remind me that I am here, the chain continues, it moves, flexible with the flow of life. 

The funny thing about the mala is that it doesn't fit comfortably anywhere -- it doesn't wrap around my ankle, nor does it wrap around my wrist without a slight dangling chain. But somehow it is perfect that way. Nothing is perfect and nothing should be taken for granted. Awareness always, the beads are moving. And while they are loose and I stay alert to their positionality, these beads don't fall off easily -- thus the cultivation of a quiet faith in life's intrinsically balanced trajectory.