Boomerang

There are always absences and I always seem to return.

I almost always feel horrible that I allowed myself to be distracted, that I allowed "not today" to become weeks or months, sometimes a year or more.

I usually always manage to make myself feel bad about it. But it always brings forth another chance. I always get another opportunity to look at myself and remember how easy it is to tear myself down, but that buildup takes much more effort and ultimately brings greater results. I feel bad each time I slip away, but I eventually become reconnected with things I love and the reasons why.

Even when I'm not writing, I'm still writing. Countless words, phrases, and ideas have been built in my head, then wear away like sand castles as the tide rolls in. That doesn't make the sand castles any less fun or cool. It doesn't negate the effort put into them. It's just a reminder that nothing is permanent.

I'm starting again. I'm restarting again. Fall down ten times, get up eleven. It's not a matter of whether I can or cannot do this, because I know I can. It's just better that I just do, because it is what I do.

And the day I happen to be restarting writing, a potential writing opportunity pops into my lap. Whether I get it or not remains to be seen, but not getting it will not mean I'll be discouraged from writing. I just won't promise those memoirs of touring the world as a clown just quite yet.

A Poem About Learning to Do Handstands

Hands planted, fingers grip,
breath comes fully, yet shaking.
Upside down, yet upright I stand —
pushing, bracing, breathing, straining —
landing softly, regrouping, then going back up.
Working to use the wall
a little
bit
less
each go,
freeing and floating
a little
bit
more
a little
more
often.
Standing strongly
(only briefly unsupported)
how a man was not built to stand:
on my hands.

Yoga Nook Conversion

Yoga Nook Conversion, originally uploaded by cookiepants1973.

This is my room. This is my sanctum. This is my studio.

Here is where I do my yoga practice.
Here is where I ground myself.
Here is where I prepare body and mind for a day of work.
Here is where I work the kinks out from work/working out/thinking the day before.

Here is where I do battle.
Here is where I do some of the hard work.

Here is where I improve.

This is my studio.

Useful Tools

WARNING: Those offended by coarse language should proceed with caution or simply not read any further. It's not a mine field of curses, but I'm aware that some people find it difficult to take even one utterance of the lesser curse words and so I offer this disclaimer. You have been warned. You're welcome.

Whenever one has an encounter with an asshole, one of the possible judgements of the situation and the person might be "What a tool!". With my recent and ongoing thinking about words, meanings, and treatment of other people and of myself, it struck me that this is actually an excellent assessment.

Tools are used to accomplish things, whether it be breaking things down into easier-to-manage components or taking such components and making something out of them. These assholes and encounters with them are tools that we can use in our forward march through life. Encounters with assholes could serve any number of purposes:

• It could serve as an example of how we do not wish to be.
• It could remind us – partially or completely – of habits and tendencies we used to exhibit, giving us an idea of how far we've grown and evolved as a person.
• Our feelings after an asshole encounter can remind us of how our words could possibly affect other people if our roles were switched – and make no mistake: roles always eventually switch.
• Any number of things that hasn't occurred to me yet

So regardless of if your encounter is with an asshole, bitch, bastard, bully, dickwad, fuckwad, dickweed, fucknugget, fuckbucket, fuckhead, cockmaster, waste-of-space, assmaster, douchebag, assrag, jerk, or a run-of-the-mill, all-purpose inconsiderate fuck, try to recognize that this person is just simply a tool. The issue afterwards is if that tool is going to be influential in building up or tearing down a changed you. That choice – that process – is up to each of us.

Compassion and Brahmacharya

Being back in Japan for a prolonged period of time means a few things:

• I have to change my eating habits so my weight doesn't drop
• Living is more expensive
• I get to eat different foods and drink different drinks
• I rely heavily on the internet to keep in touch with friends and family
• Yoga challenges

The last time I was here, my personal practice really blossomed, but something else happened: my personal practice encompassed a lot of internal work. I did a lot more work nowhere near a mat, more work in my head, and incremental work at the drop of a hat and sometimes throughout a whole day, only to continue the next. It's tiring at times.

In literature and in my classes (as an teacher trainee and as a student) the niyama of Brahmacharya was occasionally addressed. Usually, it's painted in the context of conserving and not being reckless with sexual energy. However, I've gradually come to extend it to personal energy in general, and some of my instructors have presented it as such as well. Since the standard definition poses me little problem when I'm on tour, I've had plenty of opportunity to explore the broader view. For me, the practice of Brahmacharya is tied directly to a practice of compassion, chiefly self-directed compassion.

I have been finding it increasingly necessary to be attentive to my energy needs and my energy output. We recently finished two months of shows in Sapporo. Normally, my work week is six days of shows, with one day off, totaling 14 shows. This was the show's first time in Sapporo in 89 years and although the run started a little slowly, ticket sales took off after the third week. Shows were being added weekly; sometimes two-show days became three-show days, but more often than not, a three-show day became a four-show day.

I had just started to work out again, with three times a week being my normal regimen. Once extra shows were being added, I started tapering off and eventually stopping. I needed to exercise to be at my best and now I wasn't doing enough; I was getting skinny again, losing muscle definition and tone. I was being lazy about a commitment I had made to improve and maintain my body. I wasn't even practicing yoga. What kind of lazy, useless excuse was I becoming?

As it turned out, I was saving my physical energy for shows, but I had started transferring some of it to emotional energy. That emotional energy was being expended as frustration and I was taking it out on myself. That was neither conserving energy nor channeling it effectively. When it comes to emotional energy, I'm better than I used to be, but am not yet where I would like to be. I have much to work on yet and I could definitely work more on being more compassionate with myself.

Most of all, I have to learn to be okay with the fact that I'm not there yet and that it's a journey rather than a destination. In this case, a journey within a journey.

Sometimes I Like to Pose

Asahidake Virabhadrasana III, originally uploaded by cookiepants1973.

Every once in a while, when I'm out and about in the world, I'll take a picture or two in a yoga pose I like or can do in that moment with little fuss. The latest is a picture of warrior III when I was at the top of Mt. Asahidake during my trip to Daisetsuzan National Park in Hokkaido, Japan.

A Different Studio, a Different Mat

After six weeks of having returned to Kinoshita Circus, I finally restarted my exercise regimen. It's been a habit to do some asana after the rope jumping and body weight exercises to round out the rough edges and get some active stretching in. (For the record, my main poison is yang yoga sequences and a few other poses.) I was in the state of mind to take advantage of the nice weather, so I did my second set of rope jumping outside and then proceeded to the yang sequences.

The sun was setting. The breeze was blowing. In between yang sequences I briefly bobbed my head to the Fu-Schnickens track that was on my playlist. Through the music, I could hear the sound of the lions roaring in their regular early evening chorus.

As far as studios and mats go, that was a really cool moment. I'm thankful I could have my wits about me enough to take it in and appreciate it. What an experience!