Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation

can that which is indestructible be found in us.

D.U.M.B.Oh so good!

so busy over there

Often when I have a true day off from work, I like to hang and explore in Brooklyn and completely skip venturing back onto that island of hustle and bustle. Today was one of those days. I woke up late in the morning to the first day of Spring peering in through my windows. And sprung it had. Birds chirping, sun shining, flowers blooming... legit.

I chose to take advantage. Lunch outside in Brklyn Heights with a good friend/ever-inspiring yogi. Walk down to one of my favorite places for a coffee (and a slice of homemade chocolate cake!!). Head down to the water. Plop down on a bench with a book. Soak in the sun for a good four hours. Throw in a couple happenstance meetings with friends running and riding by. Finish it off with meeting my partner-in-crime Tyra for my first mani/pedi since 2011, and I'd call it a rather refreshing day!

not bad for a tuesday

sun is shining, the weather is sweet. make you want to move, your dancin' feet.

brooklyn vs. manhattan. I'll take both.

let the games begin

After four weeks of rest necessitated by a rib cage full of pain, I'm back and ready for action.

Last week I went to a physical therapist who shared some intelligent opinions, put a heating pad on my rib cage for ten minutes, and showed me how to activate my transversus abdominis, sharing that developing my core strength will be an important component in bouncing back from this injury and that's what we'd focus on together. Agreed.

And... I learned about the transversalis for the first time about six or seven years ago. And... there are a plethora of knowledgeable yoga and Pilates teachers at my fingertips in the community I'm already a part of who know me personally. So if I'm going to pay a $20 copay per PT sesh, I may as well spend that on a yoga class with someone who specializes in asymmetries and structural anomalies. Or on a Pilates session with a woman who's been teaching teachers anatomy for years. Or... massage and acupuncture while I create a core strength program for myself. No offense to the physical therapy office. My peeps just got mad skillz.

So, feeling confident in my body-mind awareness, intuitive listening, general anatomical knowledge, and incredible contact list, I ventured back into the world of sweating tonight. I went to my friend's spin class -- and sweat I did. I put myself in the back row so I could rest when I needed to and substitute movements without disrupting anyone. My legs flew with speed and worked through thick resistance. My forehead and shoulders dripped. My breath flowed. My heart thumped. I smiled uncontrollably at the combination of effects taking over.

And then I got a really gnarly foot cramp.

After that passed, I finished out class, noting that I had no outstanding pain... and actually didn't feel as terribly out of shape as I'd expected.

If I ever needed any proof that exerting oneself physically is at the very least a generally good, useful, and fun idea that contributes to a long, happy, and fulfilling life... I got it tonight. After a month of stagnant, stationary existence, all those familiar feelings and experiences rushed back in to fill up my heart and soul.

alive.full.expressive.powerful.blissed-out.happy.ready.energized.exhausted.clear

In this moment, I am overwhelmingly grateful for this body as a temporary vehicle and the amazing work it's capable of. Game on.

dwi pada koundinyasana in Varkala, India, Feb 2011

walk it out

Today's warmth and sun was the perfect tease for a soon-to-be-summer full of surf, fish tacos, and cold beers with fresh lime and cholula -- my recent obsession. Rather than simply salivate over the idea of getting back in the water (or actually using my body in any fun, sweaty capacity as soon as this rib injury chills out! grr.) and waste away the day in the boring comfort of my cozy apartment... T-bone and I decided to make the most of our mutual Monday off from work.

One step at a time.

Ingredients for a Killer Day Off...

1. sleeping in until you just can't stand it anymore

2. March. 65 degrees. incredible amounts of spring-like NYC sunshine.

3. iced latte and fresh-baked scone from Southside

4. Miss Tyra Wallace

5. the magic of Instagram

6. Brooklyn Bridge. both directions.

7. park benches

8. first Grimaldi's experience after already living in Brooklyn for 3.5 years

9. sweet treat from new One Girl Cookies location

10. nowhere to be, nothing to do

#4 listed above. radtastic.

note sunglasses and lack of coat. delish.

this is the cover art for our eponymous debut album: The Pup Snatchers.

mad hops.

total kook.

BQE.

we'll steal your dog. seriously.

one love.

After returning from an active, adventurous, and generally healthful 12-day surf vacation (with a few boozy nights mixed in) and then realizing this injury to my rib cage (see post below) was going to sideline me for a while... I quickly fell down the slippery slope of "eating everything/anything according to my moment-to-moment cravings and emotional moods because I'm injured and sad and don't know what to do with myself." Because that makes sense. If I can't really move or work out at all or practice yoga, then eating lots of sugar and fat will make it better and heal me, body and soul, right?

The great Pema Chodron might tell me otherwise:

"Practicing loving-kindness toward ourselves seems as good a way as any to start illuminating the darkness of difficult times.

Being preoccupied with our self-image is like being deaf and blind. It's like standing in the middle of a vast field of wildflowers with a black hood over our heads. It's like coming upon a tree of singing birds while wearing earplugs.

There's so much resentment and so much resistance to life... At this point it might be wise to wonder about these things and begin to get the knack of loving-kindness."

-When Things Fall Apart

So, after causing myself some harm via unrestrained gluttony justified by an empty, bored, and lonely I-don't-wanna-be-stuck-to-the-moment-ness... I got myself in gear and started cooking healthy, nourishing meals that I love. Here's one to share.

Bowl of Loving-Kindness

-brown rice (cook a big pot in advance! use all week!)

-a good tablespoon or two of olive oil, heated up in a big pan

-half or whole yellow onion, chopped

-handful of mushrooms, sliced

-big head of broccoli, chopped into small florets

-orange bell pepper, chopped

-grape tomatoes

-pinto beans

*Start at the top of the list, add items in that order. Let onions and mushroom brown and burn a bit. Don't overstir them. Then go for the brocc. I like to throw the top of the pan on for a couple minutes to let it steam up a little bit. Then remove it and throw in the rest of ingredients. Keep giving it some good stir power as you throw in...

-whatever spices you're feelin'... I love cayenne, paprika, chili powder, cumin, salt, and pepper

-add on top: chunks of avocado and/or massive amounts of hot sauce!

*optional bonus ingredient: reggae music

feel. the. love.

kepa, keepin' on

surfing at the end of the world

Oh, the magic of media. I made it to the video above because I saw this photo as a two-page ad in Surfer. I was intrigued. In the ad, the "VSTR" logo at the top of the page there was printed on the bottom left, strategically referencing the path behind the older man. And clearly, that's Kelly Slater in the foreground. What is this?

After checking out the VSTR site and doing some light googling, the new brand is a collaboration between Kelly and Quiksilver. At the very least, I like the site and a portion of the ethos ("We are all visitors.") so I continue to browse...

And then manage to get further and further into a Journey to the Center of The Internet as I look at the gallery and contributors and eventually find the above gem of a video by Kepa Acero. He may be my new hero and another reason for me to fulfill my goal of learning Spanish in the next 18 months.

In creating his latest project, La Ultima Frontera, this dude spent a couple months in Alaska and then, it seems, rode all the way down through North, Central, and South America into Chile, down into Patagonia, and down to... the end.

Watching this little film, I have goosebumps and chills and yes even a slight mist in my eyes as I imagine that feeling. To be at the end of the earth by yourself... with a perfect left to (goofy) boot. I can feel his energy, his stoke, his unbridled joy to be witnessing this magic, to be feeling the wind and the sun, to be charging out into the water alone.

And my vicarious elation and wakefulness stabs in sharp contrast to my current state -- sitting on my grey couch in jeans and a sweater, having done almost no physical activity whatsoever for the past twelve days. woof. Well, it is what it is. My inertia is due to the twelve days before that, which were spent surfing, the last session of which left me with a rib cage and torso full of pain that my doctor thinks is costochondritis (cost=rib, chond=cartilage, itis=inflammation). In other words a good, old-fashioned case of "everything hurts, including taking a deep breath, so don't even think about moving much, lifting things, sitting up suddenly, reaching for sh*t, or... sneezing." Much less the yoga, Crossfit, spin, and swim regimen I've gotten used to keeping each week.

So. What to do? How to be? One moment at a time. For now, I will do an excess of wandering in surf magazines, exploring videos and the lives of those in and behind them, attacking the stack of books I've accumulated, and synthesizing it all, here.

And walk. I can still walk.

I'll just keep on, keepin on.

you will fail. then what?

I recently took twelve day trip to Costa Rica, much of which I spent surfing. Or, rather, failing at surfing. Surfing is one of those sweet activities where you're really only doing the thing it's named for about 10 percent of the physical time. Maybe even less. For the remainder, you're creating opportunities, chasing possibilities, making choices, observing results, putting in effort, doing the work. Basically, a lot of paddling around, thinking, sitting, paddling, looking, watching, feeling, paddling, waiting, spinning around, paddling, spinning back, paddling. Did I say paddling?

And mixed up in all of that is a whole lot of failing. Missing the opportunity you created. Not quite catching the possibility you've chased. Making a flawed choice. Lots of that. So in something like surfing, we accept it as part of the deal. I certainly do. I think you have to.

I had my first experience on a surfboard a little less than five years ago and had only a handful of lessons or trials-by-fire in those following few years. This past summer was my first with a board of my own, and I still only had a baker's dozen of sessions at sea. So... as a beginner, you get friendly with failure. You put your foot in the wrong place, remember what you did, and learn. You try to avoid nose-diving and nose-dive... and learn. You paddle for something you can't catch. You paddle for something you definitely shouldn't be trying to catch. And you learn. You say, "Isn't that interesting!" and then adjust so that next time you can say, "Holy sh*t, that was awesome!"

It feels natural. Part of the process. And since there's a commitment to the results, we can relish the big, ugly wipeouts along the way. There's no avoiding or ignoring or wishing them away.

I kept a journal on this trip and specifically wrote about the two worst experiences I've had in the ocean in my life, ever. Because I put myself into places I never would have dared before and took new risks that led to new mistakes. And because I learned a whole lot by getting bruised on my fins, getting pulled over the falls, and having a good tumble in the wash. And because I want to remember what didn't work so that I can create more of what does. It's fun when it works.

Seth Godin speaks particularly well about the reality of failure:

"You become a winner because you're good at losing. The hard part about losing is that you might permit it to give strength to the resistance (fear), that you might believe that you don't deserve to win, that you might, in some dark corner of your soul, give up.

Don't."

Here's to a joyful life full of fantastic failures. Cheers.

******

Oh, and then maybe one day after we get good enough at losing, we can win like Kelly Slater, switch-footing on barrels in Indo:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JyNnkYcEUD8&feature=fvst