“If you do not bring forth the genius within you, it will destroy you. If you do bring forth the genius within you, it will free you.” ˜Jesus Christ, the Gnostic Gospel of Thomas

If this were a FaceBook post, I would “Like” this. It’s one of those things that is so true that it makes you feel both hopeful and hopeless at the same time. Hopeful because, quite often, I can do and think and say things that make me feel genius and I’m in that zone I call, Wow, and it’s a place and time that I like a lot.

But reading this makes me feel Hopeless, too, because of the other times where I feel like Timmy trapped in a deep dark well. I don’t know why that image just came to me, except that I used to care for two really gallant and smart and tall Collies who lived with me and we walked around my neighborhood each day and invariably, someone would drive by, roll down the window and yell something about Timmy, a well, and Lassie. It always made me feel like I had just been rescued from a deep, dark place.

Then there is the whole idea of what and how genius trapped inside of you destroys you and just what part of you becomes destroyed and how when the destroying begins, it’s usually so slow and quiet that you don’t catch on until your body begins to either nag at you with something physically painful, or you one day notice that there is no ground under your feet, but you are walking on air, which is usually meant as a metaphor for being extremely happy, but that is just a trick because if you don’t have your feel on the ground, you are addicted to something unworldly that has mostly to do with your ego and that is just a whole bag of trouble waiting to happen.

Getting back to the hopeful part, because after all, intention is everything I like to say to my yoga students (I know, I don’t really sound like a typical yoga teacher, but really I kinda am good at all of it because I really understand what it’s like in the well and that maybe the well is necessary in some way). The hopeful part is that digging into the genius inside of you does really make you free. In yoga terms, it would be called being “liberated” from those things that drag you down, like fear, anger, doubt, etc.. I don’t know if you can be human and not have these things lurking inside, but, when you are “bringing forth” your genius, I think it keeps your mind off of it.

Well, I said to myself today, so, I’m back on the horse with this writing thing and then this whole idea of getting back on the horse makes me think of Band of Horses, and Sparklehorse, and all the other bands that are using animals in their names recently and how I read, and mostly believe, that the animals – yes the same ones we are ignoring,  abusing, and sometimes eating – will be part of the salvation of the human race. You know, if we’d only listen. “Animals can communicate quite well.  And they do.  And generally speaking, they are ignored.”  ~Alice Walker said that. It’s too bad because I think they have a lot to tell us.

But back to band names. So, think about it. There have always been animals in band names: The Birds, The Scorpions, The Animals, The Monkees…..but recently, it’s gone a bit crazy and I’m not the only one noticing though I may be one of the few who sees it as not so much annoying as a a welcome omen and not just a trend, or if it is a trend, than can we consider the reason trends happen in the first place? They happen because we, as a culture, are being drawn to something.  And it can show up in obvious or not so obvious way. This trend, well, I think it’s mostly obvious and that could be a good thing.

The mostly widely referenced animals in newer band names are Bears, Horses, and Birds. Here’s a pretty good long list. So, if you speak the language of animal medicine, you’ll find that among other things, bears symbolize the need for using “intuition, stillness, self-sufficiency and dreams”, birds tell us to pay attention to “beauty, love and the importance of unity and community” and horses are about “freedom, endurance, and cooperation in overcoming obstacles”.  All pretty general ideas, but if you look past the cliches, it is really part of what we need to pay attention to if we want to change the shit going on out there. Which makes me also consider the band names, Shit Horse, and Fucked Up.  But that’s a whole other story.

Many of these bands sing about images and ideas of nature and that makes me kind of happy, too. I like the fact that animals and nature are both getting more good press these days and that we – in many ways a “Fucked Up” culture – are being passed some subliminal messages that we can’t ignore or stop since they are subliminal.

Maybe we’ll start listening to the animals and see what they have to say about all the bad Shit and how to change it. That would be cool since sometimes, I just run out of ideas. Coincidentally, or not, when that happens, I just want to listen to music.

Something to think about…..

I was and wasn’t going to write a post again today, and by “again”, I mean two weeks of again’s. Instead I’ve been reading other blogs, mostly about music and musicians because it’s what I am mostly interested in lately, which may explain some of the agains, but I’m not really certain. I do know I owe my comeback to this blogger who thinks instead of writes but writes it down, too, so I decided it was the least I could do. So here goes:  (And thanks to David at Pitchforkreviewsreviews.com.)

I don’t really consider myself a writer. Well, sort of a writer, but not really, is what I hear myself say often, and then regret saying it, of course, because I know that I’m really asking someone to say, well of course you are a writer because you write this blog every day – well almost every day, I reply and then they are supposed to say, well, that means you are a writer. And then the truth stares at me because I mean to write everyday but sometimes a few days go by, or, like in this case, a couple weeks and each day I mean to write and I don’t, I know there is no excuse except that I’m not a writer, so how could I be expected to find something interesting to write about everyday. And then I remember that there is something interesting to write about everyday, I’m just not writing about it. And then I think, if I were a writer, I could claim writer’s block but I don’t because I’m not, so that disqualifies me from having writer’s block — which would be really cool to say, if it were true.

Actually, I have so much to write about that sometimes it just gets too messy, like a baby drooling and that’s when I usually hand the baby back to it’s rightful owner because drool is kind of hard to look at.

Last weekend, I saw these posters along Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn. An inconspicuous display, but that buzz word, “blame” does catch your eye. Who can resist an opportunity to speak the unspoken? A chance to place blame – on the record?

A little research revealed the back story – Geoff Cunningham and Carla Repice set out to dip into the collective consciousness throughout the country with some random research. They set up shop in areas hot in collective blame — like Ground Zero and Wall Street, as Blame Accountants, “inviting passersby to blame, record, and reflect. Who has wronged you?  What does it mean to take accountability for the actions—or inactions—of people, groups, and systems that have wronged you?  If held accountable, where will you find yourself and what actions will you take?” Here is the book that followed this project.

This particular morning, strolling through a Brooklyn neighborhood, I was first intrigued and then amused by the admissions on the posters. But what followed was a sensation of both disappointment – and boredom. As it turns out, there is not much new in the collective blame game.  What I read was was mostly  name-calling and complaining. If we are to place blame, can we at least be more imaginative about it?

As we all know, blaming people is usually futile. As kids, we blamed our siblings for lots of things, or whoever else happened to be around. We got a little older and start blaming our teachers, our parents and friends.

Hopefully, as we grow up and out of our childish ways, we learn to navigate this darker side of human nature. Yoga text says that there is nothing that will drain your energy more than having an “enemy”. I’ve personally found this to be true. So, at some point, I stopped (mostly) blaming individuals for things that happened to me or what I felt (this took years!!).

Of course, I then became good at blaming groups of people – this seemed more innocuous. I blamed entire corporations for trashing the environment. I blamed meat eaters for abusing animals. I blamed people who didn’t recycle, drive big cars, or have swimming pools, for wasting our resources. I protested and complained and ranted. Blame walks a fine line of other energy-wasting emotions. I was quickly becoming hateful and jaded.

Who knows really how and why we become aware of our foolish ways – everyone’s journey is different. But at some point, I made a shift from blame to action – action in my own life and mind. No less annoyed by the misguided cultural habits, I learned to “hate the deed, not the doer”. I slowly and imperfectly, learned to do more of what I needed to do in my own life, sending out more positive energy for what change than negativity towards blaming. It was a point of surrender, I suppose. In yoga, it’s called “giving it over” (to a higher consciousness) rather than “giving in”.

Me and CreatoDestructo spent the weekend in Brooklyn, NY. In the neighborhood of Williamsburg, to be exact. Not to be confused with one of the 90 or so other neighborhoods that span an area which would outsize most of the 50 states. Brooklyn sort of swallows you.

We spent most of our time on foot but covered a good 15 miles. So, what did I love about Brooklyn? The street art, the thrift stores, the many local venues and vendors, the enthusiastic people, the hostel where we stayed, the food, the dog park, and oh – the irony.

Across the street from Saturday’s farmer’s market, I ate a locally raised beef hot dog wrapped in local bacon with local cheese (I know what you’re thinking — but it was amazing, really!) from Urban Rustic, a “farm to market” cafe and grocery, followed by a raw juice made from a blend of seasonal veggies. Ahhh

The dog park was next to the market – lots of shade and lots of dogs. There are mostly really small, purebred dogs living in Brooklyn, which I guess makes sense, given the density of living spaces, but it made me envision shelters somewhere on the outskirts, overflowing with big, beautiful – and very lonely – half-breeds.

The hostel was super clean and neat, with really cozy shared living spaces — both the guests and staff were especially friendly, as hipsters tend to be. I also met people from Germany and Australia. Heads up, though, BYO bath towel or be ready to rent one, and there will be bar noise outside your bedroom window most of the night.

Back on the streets, I walked past what appeared to be a big open industrial garage and saw a group of people sprinting up and down a long driveway – relay style. It made me think of middle school gym class. The sign said “Brooklyn Barbell Club”. If I lived in Brooklyn, I’d probably sign up.

What did not like about Brooklyn? Well, a lot less than I loved, but mostly The TRASH (which was everywhere), THE TRAFFIC (there were lots of parked bicycles, but not as many actually being ridden), the noise, and oh – the irony.

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Hello. I’m Tao and I brew kombucha.

Kombucha fermented tea won me over first in its bottled form sold at my local co-op. A raw, enzymatic, probiotic drink that fizzed it’s way into my heart, despite the mysterious floaty culture things in every bottle. I knew enough about raw and fermented foods to understand this was really healthy stuff –but I came to understand that it is actually a complete health therapy – full of immune-enhancing, detoxifying and balancing nutrients, probiotic organic acids, enzymes, B-vitamins, antioxidants and more.

The word spread quickly, first in the raw food communities and health food stores. When Whole Foods stocked and then expanded and restocked their shelves with two brands, it became as close to mainstream popular as a health beverage could get. Still, we early drinkers felt like we were in a secret society — smiling and nodding when we came upon others who splurged (at almost $4/serving) regularly on the magic brew.

Then the home brewers began to surface, bringing their coveted kombucha “Mothers” out of the closet to share with others on the path. Now we could brew our own kombucha, organically and to our health’s content — for somewhere around 50cents/gallon. And, not a moment too soon, since some kombucha beverage brands were recently pulled from the shelves of stores due to a labeling mishap.

Like many twists of fate, the invasion of governing forces served only to boost interest in the drink, and especially in the brewer’s world. Although I had been brewing occasionally in the past with a culture a friend shared with me, I quickly upped my brewing game and am loving it.

If you aren’t connected to the underground world of shared Mothers – or even if you already have your SCOBY (Symbiotic Colony of Bacteria and Yeast), I recommend learning more about the process of brewing and the health benefits at any of the many resources now available online.

I discovered Kombucha Dave on Twitter. With unmatched enthusiasm and passion, he has invited all of us to join the kombucha brewing community by providing supplies, home brewing education and a lot more through his website, online store, blog, newsletter, videos, Facebook page and Tweets. I found his free online brewing course super helpful – there was more to know about brewing than I thought!

It’s empowering to explore and participate in your own wellness. Happy brewing!

“The major civilizing force in the world is not religion; it is sex.”

———Hugh Hefner, Publisher, Playboy Magazine.

For reasons more cultural and feministic than personal, I have never read Playboy Magazine. But I veer towards agreement with Hugh Hefner’s perspective when it comes to sex relative to, well, the rest of the Universe.

And, at age 84, he still considers himself the luckiest man on the planet who played some part in changing the world. I think he’s right. From an interview in this month’s Vanity Fair with John Heilpern, Mr. Hefner points out that, “…when you no longer have passion, it’s the beginning of the end.”

More from the interview:

“I saw the hypocrisy in the notion that obscenity could somehow be connected to sex instead of to war and bigotry. I believed that sex, when properly understood, could be the best of who we are. It doesn’t mean that it can’t be exploited or abused. It can be. But sex itself is the fire around which we warm ourselves. It is the heart of civilization and the family.”

a so-called comic strip

The debut of My Intentional Life: Somewhat true stories of attempted sustainability

Since the Gulf oil-saster, I have been laying low in my please ‘let me live my fantasy!’ foxhole – I’ve got my supply of kombucha, organic wine and a deck of tarot cards – I’ve been getting more into the questions than the answers these days.

So, I’m not devouring the news on either side of environmentalism — but devouring creative experience in a whole new way. Hey, there’s a connection, of course. Oil may be flowing through the gulf, but the energy flowing through the counterculture right now feels stronger.

But if, like me, you aren’t quite ready to come completely out of hiding yet, start with this smile-friendly “so-called” Comic Strip, “somewhat true”, debuting on Grist. Hipsters will love it and hate it – it sets the stage in an urban collective in a Brooklyn brownstone. Visit My Intentional Life here.

Hey, it’s a start.