Aracelis Girmay - Mar 2, Iyengar II & I

From the age of Hip-Hop, an heir to the Beat poets.

BREAK

When the boys are carnivals

we gather round them in the dark room

& they make their noise while drums

ricochet against their bodies & thin air

below the white ceiling hung up like a moon

& it is California, the desert. I am driving in a car,

clapping my hands for the beautiful windmills,

one of whom is my brother, spinning,

on a hillside in the garage with other boys he’ll grow old with, throw back.

How they throw back their bodies

on the cardboard floor, then spring-to, flying

like the heads of hammers hitting strings

inside of a piano.

Again, again.

This is how they fall & get back up…

Lawrence Ferlinghetti - Mar 1, Iyengar III

Apologies, Lawrence, you rocked! 1919-2021

The Changing Light

' The changing light at San Francisco

is none of your East Coast light

none of your

pearly

light of Paris

The light of San Francisco

is a sea light

an

island light

And the light of fog

blanketing the hills

drifting in at night

through the Golden Gate

to lie on the

city at dawn

And then the halcyon late mornings

after the fog burns off

and the sun paints white houses

with the sea

light of Greece

with sharp clean shadows

making the town look

like

it had just been

painted

But the wind comes up at four o'clock

sweeping the

hills

And then the veil of light of early evening

And then another scrim

when the new night fog

floats in

And in that vale of light

the city drifts

anchorless

upon the ocean

Pablo Neruda - Feb 28th, Fun with Chairs

The last day, the last love poem of February, and it’s a beauty! Looking forward to the “clear body of spring!”

THE STOLEN BRANCH

In the night we shall go in

to steal

a flowering branch.

We shall climb over the wall

in the darkness of a private garden,

two shadows in the shadow.

Winter is not yet gone,

and the apple tree appears

suddenly changed

into a cascade of fragrant stars.

In the night we shall go in

up to its trembling firmament,

and your little hands and mine

will steal the stars.

And silently,

to our house,

in the night and the shadow

with your steps will enter

perfume's silent step

and with starry feet

the clear body of spring.

Allen Ginsberg - Feb 25, Iyengar II & I

A Beat love poem in honor of Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s passing this week. At 101 he had an amazing run. I still have a City Lights Books bumper sticker on my memento bulletin board. This piece has a beautiful visual, as well as sound, rhythm.

SONG

The weight of the world

is love.

Under the burden

of solitude,

under the burden

of dissatisfaction

the weight,

the weight we carry

is love.

Who can deny?

In dreams

it touches

the body,

in thought

constructs

a miracle,

in imagination

anguishes

till born

in human—

looks out of the heart

burning with purity—

for the burden of life

is love,

but we carry the weight

wearily,

and so must rest

in the arms of love

at last,

must rest in the arms

of love….

William Shakespeare - Feb 23, Iyengar II & I

Can’t have a month of love poetry without some Shakespeare! A pretty famous bit, that when quoted doesn’t usually include the final line in the speech. I love the final line.

As You Like It

Rosalind speaking

…for your brother and my sister no sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage: they are in the very wrath of love and they will together; clubs cannot part them.

Simon Ortiz - Feb 21 - Iyengar Sunday Fun

A tough guy, tenderly describes the passionate bond between parent and child.

This Magical Thing

This, my son

moves his legs,

turns a circle

once and then again,

a couple more times.

He stops,

looks at me

and laughs

for my approval

of this magical thing

he has done.

I laugh my happiness,

loving him,

loving the magic

of his movement,

of his laughter.

His eyes

look for my eyes,

find me

growing strong.

Billy Collins - Feb 18th, Iyengar II & I

After 3 days of on and off snow (feels like the whole winter’s worth), this terrific piece by Billy Collins felt appropriate. A break from my February of Love but too perfect to pass up! This was sent to me by a well-read student who is always generous with what she finds. Thank you Patricia Wallace!

Shoveling Snow With Buddha

In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok
you would never see him doing such a thing,
tossing the dry snow over a mountain
of his bare, round shoulder,
his hair tied in a knot,
a model of concentration.

Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word
for what he does, or does not do.

Even the season is wrong for him.
In all his manifestations, is it not warm or slightly humid?
Is this not implied by his serene expression,
that smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe?

But here we are, working our way down the driveway,
one shovelful at a time.
We toss the light powder into the clear air.
We feel the cold mist on our faces.
And with every heave we disappear
and become lost to each other
in these sudden clouds of our own making,
these fountain-bursts of snow.

This is so much better than a sermon in church,
I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.
This is the true religion, the religion of snow,
and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,
I say, but he is too busy to hear me.

He has thrown himself into shoveling snow
as if it were the purpose of existence,
as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway
you could back the car down easily
and drive off into the vanities of the world
with a broken heater fan and a song on the radio.

All morning long we work side by side,
me with my commentary
and he inside his generous pocket of silence,
until the hour is nearly noon
and the snow is piled high all around us;
then, I hear him speak.

After this, he asks,
can we go inside and play cards?

Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milk
and bring cups of hot chocolate to the table
while you shuffle the deck.
and our boots stand dripping by the door.

Aaah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyes
and leaning for a moment on his shovel
before he drives the thin blade again
deep into the glittering white snow.

Dorothy Parker - Feb 16th, Iyengar I Snow Day

Due in part to the 11” of snow we got last night, a myriad of technical difficulties prevented me from actually teaching my Level I class today. I sent out the poem I intended to read anyway. As an adult, under the right circumstances, a snow day can be magical!

One Perfect Rose

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet--
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
"My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

A wonderful Valentine - Feb 14th

I received this beauty from my friend and wise-woman Maggy Schulze, and had to share!

“Love...the dance between the heart and the prickers.” - Maggy Schulze

Ramayana - Feb 14th, Iyengar Sunday Fun & Chair Class

Hanumanasana is a Valentine’s Day Tradition for me. This inspiring pose requires courage, but there are versions that are appropriate for all levels of students. It ultimately represents faith and love, with the recognition that neither are easy, but worth the price we pay.

This excerpt from Hanuman’s, the Monkey God’s story, comes at the end of the great epic Ramayana. All the action is over, the Queen Sita is saved, the Demon King defeated and the great Lovers Rama and Sita are reunited. In large part because of the lowly monkey Hanuman.

“ OhHanuman!”

“My King?" Hanuman knelt before Rama.

'Rama said, “As long as men shall speak of you, you will live on Earth. No one can equal you. Your heart is true; your arms are strong; you have the energy to do anything. You have served me faithfully and done things for me that couldn't be done."

^It’s nothing” said Hanuman. "I am your friend, that's all.”

Rama wore a rare golden bracelet set with gemstones on his right arm, a costly irreplaceable ornament inherited from among the wealth of the Solar Kings from ancient days. He said, "Best of Monkeys, take this as my gift,” and gave it to Hanuman.

Hanuman snatched the bracelet from Rama and started to turn it over and around in his white furry paws, looking

closely at it. Then he bent and broke it; he twisted the gold and pulled out the jewels, and put them between his hard teeth. He bit down on the priceless gems and broke them like nuts, and carefully searched over the pieces, looking everywhere for something.

Rama asked him, "Monkey, at a time like this why are you still difficult?"

Hanuman answered, "Lord, though this bracelet looked expensive it was really worthless, for nowhere on it did it bear your name. I have no need of it, Rama. What do I want with anything plain?"

Vibhishana sniffed at that. 'Then I can't see what value life has to you. Why don't you destroy your body as well?"

Then with his sharp fingernails Hanuman tore open his breast and pulled back the flesh. And see! There was written again and again on every bone, in fine little letters—Rama Rama Rama Rama Rama ….

Rama put down the grass he held, and with his two hands he pressed together Hanuman's parted flesh, and the wound over his beating heart came together leaving no scar at all, not even one big as a grain of dust, or the tip of a hair. Rama drew off his hand his broad gleaming gold ring that said Rama, the ring that Hanuman had carried to Sita. He put it into Hanuman’s wet bloodstained paw and gently closed the monkey fingers over it.

- trans. William Buck

Mechtild of Magdeburg - Feb 14th, Iyengar Sunday Fun

For the great “love and faith” asana, Hanumanasana, this beautiful piece from the 12th century. Mechtild joined the Beguines, independent communities of lay women devoted to spirituality and good works. These communities were self-created when the Catholic Church was unwilling to create more convents. Some grew to cities of 14,000 people!

I cannot dance, O Lord,

Unless You lead me.

If You wish me to leap joyfully,

Let me see You dance and sing—

Then I will leap into Love—

And from Love into Knowledge,

And from Knowledge into the Harvest,

That sweetest Fruit beyond human sense.

There I will stay with You, whirling.

Archibald MacLeish - Feb 11, Iyengar II & I

Surprisingly, more Lizard love. A student sent me this gem. Perfect to store up for the upcoming snow…

THE OLD MAN TO THE LIZARD

Lizard, lover of heat, of high

Noon, of the hot stone, the golden

Sun in your unblinking eye —

And they say you are old lizard, older than

Rocks you run on with those delicate

Fishbone fingers, skittering over

Ovens even cricket in his shell

Could never sing in — tell me, lover of

Sun, lover of noon, lizard,

Is it because the sun is gold with

Flame you love it so? Or is

Your love because your blood is cold?

Mary Oliver - Feb 9th, Iyengar II & I

More Dog love, showing us the way. Where would we be without them?!

…

But I want to extol not the sweetness nor the placidity of the dog, but the wilderness out of which he cannot step entirely, and from which we benefit. For wilderness is our first home too, and in our wild ride into modernity with all its concerns and problems we need also all the good attachments to that origin that we can keep or restore. Dog is one of the messengers of that rich and still magical first world. The dog would remind us of the pleasures of the body with its graceful physicality, and the acuity and rapture of the senses, and the beauty of forest and ocean and rain and our own breath. There is not a dog that romps and runs but we learn from him…

- Dog Songs, “Dog Talk”

Mary Oliver - Feb 8th, Iyengar III

Some of the least complicated love, doesn’t mean it isn’t deep!

PERCY, WAITING FOR RICKY

Your friend Is coming, I say

to Percy and name a name

and he runs to the door, his

wide mouth in its laugh-shape,

and waves, since he has one, his tail.

Emerson, I am trying to live,

as you said we must, the examined life.

But there are days I wish

there was less in my head to examine,

not to speak of the busy heart. How

would it be to be Percy, I wonder, not

thinking, not weighing anything, just running forward.

Sappho - Feb 7th, Iyengar Sunday Fun

Courting the Goddess of Love; Lesbos sounds fit for a Goddess.

Leave Crete,

Aphrodite,

and come to this sacred place

encircled by apple trees,

fragrant with offered smoke.

Here, cold springs

sing softly

amid the branches;

the ground is shady with roses;

from trembling young leaves,

a deep drowsiness pours.

In the meadow,

horses are cropping

the wildflowers of spring,

scented fennel

blows on the breeze.

In this place,

Lady of Cyprus, pour

the nectar that honors you

into our cups,

gold, and raised up for drinking.

Federico Garcia Lorca - Feb 4th, Iyengar II & I

Centering Love this February, of all kinds, and there are so many…

THE LIZARD IS CRYING . . .

The he-lizard is crying.

The she-lizard is crying.

The he-lizard and the she-lizard

with little white aprons.

Have lost without wanting to

their wedding ring.

Ah, their little leaden wedding ring,

ah, their little ring of lead!

A large sky without people

carries the birds in its balloon.

The sun, rotund captain,

wears a satin waistcoat.

Look how old they are!

How old the Lizards are!

Oh, how they cry and cry,

Oh! Oh! How they go on crying!

B.K.S. Iyengar - Feb 2, Iyengar II & I

For Groundhog’s Day and Candlemas (Feb 2 is the halfway point between the Winter Solstice and Vernal Equinox). As we struggle to understand our world these days, I found this little bit of wisdom comforting - from Light on Life.

Living between Earth and Sky

…

We too are part of Nature, therefore constantly changing, so we are always looking at Nature from a different viewpoint. We are a little piece of continual change looking at an infinite quantity of continual change. Small wonder it gets quite exciting.

…

Basho - Jan 31, Iyengar All Levels -Sunday Fun

Time passes weirdly during Covid -19. For me it feels like slow motion plus fast forward, somehow happening at the same time. Basho’s perspective is helpful…

The passing days and months are eternal

travellers in time.

Taylor Johnson - Jan 21, Iyengar II

More from Taylor Johnson, I love the line “I am a victim of light, but what else is new.”

CONTAINING CONTINUITY

How to talk about wonder about the horn (I'm listening to Christian Scott) without saying horn or trumpet, and resisting abstraction. The furthest I can get is that the sound comes from the corner, is continually, in motion and resisting form, a kind of stasis or staticness. The sound is a hovering. A presence pressure. Sound wraith. Wraith's whir. The sound is in response and also asks a question, or a few. To say I'd fallen into failure, or failure had illuminated itself in front of me, is one truth. I am a victim of light, but what else is new.

Simone Weil - Jan19, Iyengar II

From Gravity & Grace - a nice description of how I’ve always felt about Joy. Not easy.

A test of what is real is that it is hard and rough. Joys are found i t, not pleasure. What is pleasant belongs to dreams.