100 Days of Yoga, Day 44

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October 4, 2012 by blogmasterjdeam

GIGO (garbage in, garbage out) is a concept common to computer science and mathematics: the quality of output is determined by the quality of the input. So, for example, if a mathematical equation is improperly stated, the answer is unlikely to be correct. Similarly, if incorrect data is input to a program, the output is unlikely to be informative.

In how many ways does this term fit our behavior?   For me, GIGO applies to, oh, I don’t know … EVERYTHING.  For example, if I watch the evening news, I end up yelling at the television.  For reasons I can’t explain, this causes my husband to do whatever it takes to get out of hearing range (what’s up with that?)  Then, I ‘m like, Mike … would you please take out the trash, but he doesn’t hear me.  So then, I take the trash out myself, but I’m slightly pissed about it, cause … aren’t I already doing the dishes?  But then, on the way to taking out the trash, I forget we’ve left the garage door open and, what do you know — there is a bear already in the trash.  I’m like “really?  Get the hell out of the trash, bear.”  But when I say this, the dogs know the word “bear” and all of a sudden they have magic ears; they hear the word “bear” and come tearing out of the house.  Then I’m really in trouble: it’s dark, the dogs are in the woods, pretending they can’t hear me (especially Etta) chasing a black bear, which I can’t see either.  Damn it, why did I watch the news?

Or like yesterday, I go to the gym to run.  Sure, my knee hurts a little, but at nearly 62 years of age, I’ve REALLY learned the concept: play through the pain.  I jump on the treadmill, ramp it up to 6.3 mph and decide to train for the Senior Olympics.  But right at mile two, my right knee stops cooperating.  I just know I can make it work right again if I take ten whole seconds to stretch, so I step off the treadmill, stretch and damn it, my knee still hurts.  Now I’m thinking … well, I think you know exactly what I’m thinking.  (Yes, I’m in a ‘clean up language’ phase again.)  Now I don’t know how to get that endorphin high I’m ever so addicted to.  So I go home and decide I’ll make up for the short run by inventing a healthy meal.  I don’t have much in the house, but BY GOD, we’re eating healthy tonight!  I layer chicken breasts with frozen spinach, throw in a little rice and pour a container of pre-made butternut squash soup on top.  Before you know it I’ve invented a healthy casserole.  I watch as my husband pushes the meal around his plate.  To show how obstinate I can be, I pretend I LOVE it, and then inform Mike, NO, we don’t have any dessert to go with the meal.  (As an aside, I often discuss meals I’m planning with my sister Diana.  Almost every single time, my sister’s comment is: “poor Mike.”)

These are the kind of things that keep me from listening to that quiet voice within.  If only I was living in a monastery, wearing long, white robes (although I look awful in white.)  Wouldn’t that living arrangement make it easier to lead a spiritual life?  But, that is not the life I live so, once again I go to the mat, to the cushion, to that place I know will re-center me.  I go in order to listen to that voice, but it seems the voice only comes when the ego has slipped out for a cigarette.  I’m hoping, soon, all the cigarettes, booze, drugs and other destructive habits will kill the ego, but until then, I walk the thin rope of being in the world, but not of the world. (Romans 12:2)

Come, come, whoever you are

Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.

It doesn’t matter.

Ours is not a caravan of despair.

Come, even if you have broken your vow

a thousand times.

Come, yet again, come, come.

~ Rumi

This is the thing about being on this path: I fall often, but each time I fall, I get up more quickly.

The Agni spirit is tearing its way through my body and mind right now.  I know better than to deny it, instead I must let the fire burn out.  My pranayama and asana practice today will, by necessity, focus on letting the fire do its cleansing work.


BURN, BABY, BURN

With kindness & compassion for all, Chris

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