The Universe is Big

re-connecting the dots

Scott Twyster — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 20:30:00 GMT

on a plane again. in transit, in time, in effort to get from one place to another. the all-too-familiar taste of canned air marked by the constant turbine roar. a plethora of point As and point Bs from the past couple of months bubble up, bringing me back to an old mantra:

connecting the dots.

on my way back to nyc for thanksgiving for the first time in years. keeping in theme with the blessed simplicity of the holiday, I’ve got much to be thankful for.

setting roots in florida has been an interesting experience, not for the lack of fertile soil. i’ve been blessed by the presence of a handful of extremely supportive natives, so to speak, that have welcomed me to their strange, new land and show me how to work it. the potential for a cold, challenging winter was definitely high, especially for a nomad looking to find safe harbor after a worldwide whirlwind journey.

during my time in town in September, there were a few red carpets unrolled.

‘dude, I’ve been praying for a power base co-teacher to come help me build up the community down here. for years. seriously, scott… years. if you come down here, I will do everything I can to help get you set up. stay at my place. drive my car. use my scooter. you can even rock my longboard. beach life is fun. get up on this shit.’

sounds great, ari. how can i turn down an offer like that?

‘love, we need a strong, safe make yoga teacher like yourself down here. there’s a lot of space and potential for a guy like yourself teaching what you’re looking to teach. I’d love to have you on staff here at red pearl yoga. do it. DO IT!’

well, karen, how can i turn down an offer like that?

‘scott, that was an amazing session. I’m really interested in what you’re doing, and think it relates directly to what I work with. the idea of building trust through a practice conscious exploration of movement is a powerful offering, and combined with a strong theoretical understanding of self-empowerment, the potential for creating great things for a great many people is huge. I’d love to explore that with you.’

i feel the same way, ruben, how can i turn down an offer like that?

‘scotty, it would be so great to have you nearby. you don’t even have to visit all that much. just knowing you’re a phone call away makes me simile. you can come over for dinner anytime you want.’

that’s very sweet, gramma, how can i turn down an offer like that?

dot after dot after dot appeared, and a very detailed picture began to reveal itself. there was a great deal of dots to connect, mind you, but i could make out a very real picture of home. it took it as a good sign that the dots began to connect themselves while i was out of the country.

the picture is there. i just need to stay committed to putting pen of choice to the paper of immediate destiny. with a little effort, the right amount of time and dedication, sooner or later that picture will become more and more complete. simple enough, right?

right.
well, more like right now.
for right now, i’m sure-unsure. i know exactly what needs to be done, yet am not sure how to do it. i’m sure i want to do it, but i’m not sure i really want to.

i’m meta-sure.

there is a great potential for most basic tasks performed by most beings of complexity to go from molehill to mountain due to an inability to stay committed simplicity. that last sentence is a perfect example. instead of spending figuring out the clearest (dare i say cleverist?) way to thread words together, i could have easily just have said the following:

when it comes to connecting the dots, we tend to complicate things.

and whoooooo boy, there is a large part of me that really wants to conduct a symphony of second-guesses and doubts strummed across sensitive heartstrings.

maybe you know the scenario: the picture is obvious—it’s not fully there, but we see it. often, it’s even given a title: a day at the beach, fun at the zoo, building a home. all we need to do is pick up a pen to connect those little steps and poof!—a clear image appears. then again, what type of pen should we use? do we have to do it all now? what if it gets boring? what if I mess up? do i really wanna do this?

just seeing the dots sometimes seems good enough. it’s a duck, of course, why do i need waste my time? why not just look at a photo of a duck than have to create my own boxy-looking duck?

thankfully, there is a much larger part of me that observes this other part, and effectively uses that feedback to support the process of settling in. hence, meta-sure… oh, i’m sure i wanna do exactly what I’m doing, but it would be a complete lie to say that I’m 100% sure all the time.

of course, i experience doubt. on a daily basis, no less. it brings me closer to the picture at hand. it means i care about what’s going on, about the success, about the journey, about the process of doing whatever it is i’m doing. both sides of the surface reflect extremes in each direction while maintaining clarity in fluid balance.

or something like that.

i’m a nomad that dreams of home, an equanimous yogi and a fiery Gemini. a stable tree and agile monkey. meta-sure and mighty ready.

complimentary statements issued by excited locals

Scott Twyster — Mon, 12 Oct 2009 11:14:00 GMT

'you are a-number-one rambo, sir. number one rambo.'

that’s a new one, i thought to myself while brushing white saharan dust off my hands onto my pants. the past few years have yielded a few choice gems by way of enthusiastic complimentary statements issued by excited locals. to date, however, the 'stallone' category had yet to be created.

10 points, egpyt.

admittedly, i was perplexed, and began the walk back to the car from the sphinx, past the pyramids, and through a cavalry of camel-jockeys (seriously) trying to figure out exactly why rambo was invoked. did rambo ever do an handstand in the middle of a desert? i don't think so. at any point did rambo wear a white 'chit happens' buddha tshirt while juggling small german women around on his hands and feet? nope. does rambo wear glasses?

it had to have been the camouflage shorts. yeah, and the long hair. that's it.

thankfully, or should i say 'as timing would have it', i would not spend much time thinking about rambo because moments later a man on a donkey selling hand-carved sheba cats issued an equally rare gem...

'aaaah, very nice. look at hogan over there walking with two beautiful women. hogan is very strong man, very lucky man.'

rambo was quickly shuffled off onto the backburner as i debated whether he meant 'hulk' or 'paul' as the suffix to hogan. which catchphrase best compliments my style?

hulk-- 'train, say your prayers, and eat your vitamins! be true to yourself, true to your country, be a real american!'

paul-- 'that's not a knife... THAT's a knife!'

...

egypt is a beautiful country in many respects, and quite deserving of the storied majesty it's history easily evokes. this time around, i only had a chance to see the slack gaze of pillow-soft resort life overlooking the red sea in ain el souknha, followed by 48 hour hectic blink of cairo's metropolitan sprawl.

ain el souknha: beach. sun. crystal clear water. yoga. snore.
cairo: 22. million. people.

guess which one i liked more?

it's a big city, cario is. it felt like the biggest one i've been in yet. one really gets that 'raindrop in an ocean' feeling of hourglass flow, an integral part of an organism living, breathing, driving, expanding, alive. cleaner than mumbai, more spread out than istanbul, as 24 hour as nyc used to be. this is no cityscape to jaunt through. its quixotic curves and voluminous structure begs one to meander, to relax into a state of ready awareness. the traffic is a blend of ho chi min's volume and india's acceptance where 8 lane highways can instantly surge to 11 or 12, and at any given time pedestrians will dart across them with little more than three raised fingers for protection from an 80kph traffic swam.

my mother would hate driving here. my father would excel.

it's hot. dry hot. blazing hot, making multiple shady chai and shisha breaks necessary and welcome. cairo is a muslim city, so five times a day sallah echo out across the vibrant expanse. many people stop. many don't. one hand opens while the other closes. nothing is dropped. pace. pattern. peaceful chaos. organization on autopilot.

when we made it to khan kalili, the bazaar district, two more men called me rambo. i wasn't even doing a handstand.

'you are rambo. sir. rambo look in my shop.'
why am i rambo?
'you are big rambo. tell me how i can take your money.'
dinner and a movie?
'i make shooting and kill you. haHA!! rambo, big man come look my shop.'
i'm going to leave now.

(what a perfect time to have my paul hogan knife)

everything in this bizarre bazaar was authentic, even the fake rolexes and jewelery. i learned that in egypt, the way to prove that something is real (super quality! this is real! i make no lies.) is to take a lighter to it. if it doesn't go up in flames or turn black, it is therefore real and i should make no hesitation in purchasing it at the original quoted price. pashmina shawls, silver necklaces, hand-tooled leather wallets.

i breathed a deep sigh of contentment. hagglemonsters, your fierce bargaining skills cannot defeat me.

here i sit in the cairo airport, preparing to enter the final leg of a two year adventure. tonight dubai. two weeks later, on october 26th, 2009, i return to NYC with full intention to settle down. target base of operations: south beach, miami.

stay tuned for more on that later.

in flight,

.s.

a self-indulgent narcissist masturbating publicly

Scott Twyster — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 13:44:00 GMT

the original intention in creating this blog was simple: chronicle the experiences of my travels outside of new york city. after uprooting 10 years of fundamentals, things were about to get even more interesting. my goal was to be as straightforward and honest as possible in recoding the adventure in order to fully understand it, not to pull punches, hyper-inflate, or downplay anything that happened. we're talking true journalistic integrity here, people. a shift to reportage instead of planning.

that lasted about 36 hours. maybe 40.

have you ever blogged before? i often feel it is the internet equivalent of a self-indulgent narcissist masturbating publicly in front of a mirror. 'ooooh yeah... man, i look good. this FEELS good. it's all good. people want to read the things that i write because my experiences are so interesting, so REAL. my life is totally worth watching because i am superiorly interesting.'

when i left nyc, i had something to prove. to my family, my friends, to all of the circles i ran in (and ran around in), to my ex-girlfriend, to the job i left behind... and most importantly, to myself. there was all this space around me that needed filling, and i aimed to do just that-- fill up my experience pocket with as much life as i could possible jam in there.

oh, and jam i did. to be fair, there wasn't really much jamming necessary. things flowed so fluidly, with a satisfying viscosity on all fronts. my engine purred and my tires devoured the path. the jamming only came in handy when obstacles rose up from time to time, and sure enough, i became quite good at convincing round holes to accept pegs of various of shapes and sizes.

before i go any further, two things should be noted:
a) i haven't updated my blog in about 6 months, during which time many, many, many incredibly huge events have risen and passed which have had an immense impact on my life.
b) the reason behind this is that i have been in the process of re-launching theuniverseisbig.com, and didn't want to add anything new to the old system that would have to be inevitably entered into the new one.

the re-launch is still happening-- it is almost done, in fact. however, this isn't about that at all.

you'll have to understand that at first, a small part of me had felt like i had fallen behind on my work, on the commitment to prove everything to everyone...

'hey, guess what world?! scott's alive and totally killin' it right now. holla!'

...i've come to realize that this voice was much, much louder when i first started. over the course of the past two years it has softened, streamlined. although, i should note-- to be fair-- were one to actually chart the volume and sincerity of this voice, it would most definitely not be a straight line between two points.

so in order to update my blog, i've have to manually re-enter every individual blog entry by hand... er, mouseclick-cut-and-paste. this means i've had the definitive pleasure of rereading 160 entries that (more or less) have followed the path i've taken since october 2007. there are some diamonds in there, for sure. there is also a lot of bullshit. i love both equally.

i realize that radio silence i've maintained over the past six months have been entirely self-imposed. basically, i took a break from masturbating in front of the mirror with the blinds down, washed my hands, had a shower, and grabbed a beer before sitting down on the couch to watch the video i had running during the whole experience. apparently i had been filming in high definition because shit looks CRAZY on the 100" lcd i got running in my head.

i moved to india. i got in a motorcycle accident in vietnam. i've toured around the world as an acrobatic yoga instructor. met some amazing people and learned some amazing things. went to burning man twice. i met beautiful women, learned to say i love you in many languages, and inevitably left them. i've lost friends, found them, only to learn that death is a part of life. i have sat in silence for ten days in motionless meditation. i got engaged. swam in oceans all around the world. had jumped jeeps over dunes in the arabian desert, kayaked archipelagos, mountain biked down mighty fjords. i moved to germany for one beautiful summer. successfully completed 5 months worth of yoga teacher training. my heart has been broken, reforged, and pushed to the extent of it's strength. i've lived in so many versions of paradise that the very word itself will never sound the same.

i left my home in nyc on october 27th, 2007. i return to the states with intention to build a new one on october 26th, 2009. in 24 months, i have lived thousands of lives only to begin again with every new day.

it has taken me two years to learn one very important lesson. i have nothing more to prove to my Self. whatever it is, i can do it. the adventures are far from over. it's not like i left nyc because things were boring-- HUGE things happened during my decade there. the same thing applies to the nomadic robes i took on after casting off the metropolitan regalia that served me so well. just as i'll always be a new yorker, part of me will always embrace the wanderlove that has served me so well.

in closing, i should go on record that i don't necessarily feel that i am an internet-based masturbating narcissist, although i have totally been prone to bouts of grandiosity. the bottom line is that i'm fiercely proud of the life i lead and the decisions i make. aren't you?

it should also be clear that i have no intention on stopping the blog either. whether i masturbate or masterfully bake, the main ingredient is love.

there you have it. i'm back and ready for more.

looking forward,

scott.

how eggshell intense the fantastic vibration beneath a calm surface

Scott Twyster — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 21:37:30 GMT

this is the stuff of magic, the infinite space between yesterday and
tomorrow, a rift into which anything and everything fits so perfectly,
so chaotically perfect, at times the puzzle melts seamless and in others
every other piece is missing, when we decide to get off our own laziness
to check between the cushions, but really we don't feel the need to get
up because we're tired from creating, from achieving, from escaping,
from compromising, from understanding, each feather both dusty and dewy
from the various clouds that rise and pass while soaring across that
infinite space of every moment.

does it make a difference, keeping it in, letting it out, trying force a
feeling that's both bliss and confusion? and will it ever end, those
midnight fingers that snap then point then gesticulate in some vague
direction, sometimes clear, sometimes not, towards a greater good, a
greener pasture split by two iron rails that keep the wheels from
spinning too out-of-control? the breath is the fuel and the body an
engine, a vessel cruising across an ocean that surges on and on and on
forever, whenever you turn around it's still there, whispering hints in
absolute, and absolutely not every one is meant for you.

how delicate the line between movement and stillness, how eggshell
intense the fantastic vibration beneath a calm surface.

truthfully, i'm loving it. what keeps me together is the ever-present
smile to be found at all points from peak to valley, start to finish and
back again. it seems that every step is a new chapter lately, at so many
points thinking 'oh yes, this is it, now it's really going to get good'
only to realize that the going has yet even to begin. unclear are the
reasona to move away from a need for constant redefinition, refocusing,
oscillating irises rising and setting in response to varying light, a
train rocketing and rifling through tunnels and closets, bedsheets,
timezones, and high-speed long distance lounge chairs.

greece was spring beautiful after austrian cold and the scatter of
turkish blue-gray, all flowers, olive trees along with the occasional
sunshowers atop castles and aside sweeping cloudy peaks. stockholm had a
spring chill offset by the warmth of new friends, windows open to air
out the dust of an old attic winter, the perfect chance to clear space
for stepping into grace of things to come. our last stop, oslo, our
glorious far-off point that was thought to never come, came and went as
smoothly as those far-off points always do, with excitement and depth,
and plans to return.

so many far-off points come and go, when one passes another rises, my
next one a tiny village in south germany, three times older than the
country of my origin. trading in two zeros, a city of ten million for a
town of ten thousand, give or take. give or take. give or take is a
great question to ask. what do i have to give? what is there to take?
where will my balance reside, yet another ever changing constant, where
will this midpoint between two extremes take root to spread it's wings?
i'm just a big fish perusing pond-front real estate around the world. i
got the stamps to prove it.

who? what? where? when? how? these are the true pillars of magic,
creating such infinite space between here and now. i can't help but
smile, so i will, as if there is nothing else to do, even if there is,
even though, thankfully, there really isn't, for this protagonist wears
not a cape but a broad grin instead, an ever-widening rift into which
everything and anything has an open invitation to fit, vibration
fantastic and fancy-free while rocketing and rifling through the
cushions in search of new inspiration for creation, to achieve a
successful direction for the escape from one extreme towards another, to
find that perfect midpoint for the time being, time being a commodity
that seems to be in extraordinary abundance for a change.

one man's opinion: the future of the children

Scott Twyster — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 10:55:00 GMT

man, i've got all these great ideas, you know? i just need to clear the time to do them. having all of these great ideas is a huge responsibility, see, like the world won't be able to really spin the way its supposed to unless i take care of it. oh, they are all totally important, monumental things that are gonna really change things... for the better. i'm serious, here. totally serious.

like for instance, i really fear for the future of the children today. i really, really do. sure, there is that whole global warming thing going on. that's totally a big deal. and let's be honest here, the state of global politics can be really confusing to the normal guy. i read korea fired a missile at the world a few weeks back, but the world was all like, 'pfffft. whatever. we've got a ton of those. nice try, korea. call us when you're ready to talk and maybe we'll listen. lates.' in reality, though, the world probably had trouble sleeping that night. being a tough guy in the daylight is one thing, but when it gets dark out, it gets a lot harder. considering that it's always nighttime somewhere, the world has a lot of answering to do behind closed eyes.

but the future of the children has more to worry about than potentially bad weather and long-range rockets in the hands of the overinflated self-righteous. i'm talking about a real issue, about health. i'm not talking about the plight of the farmer and the circus argument about the true value of the word 'organic'. maybe i should, because we're talking about the future of children here, which is a very important future to take into consideration. i was once a child, really, and i look around sometimes and wonder if anyone took into consideration my future. other times, though, i look around and want to give everyone a high five 'cause stuff ain't all that bad right now.

well, i guess i should say that stuff ain't all that bad for me, that is. other people, too. i see it when i walk around, talking to the world and hearing what it has to say. i really listen when it talks back, at least, i really try. i'll walk around a mall or a busy street and just let my ears stay open and my mouth stay shut. that's when the real listening happens. the world speaks up when you let it. you should also learn to keep the eyes open for more than just crossing signals and pretty girls and shiny toys. if you're like me, you'll learn pretty fast that it helps to sit down when you really want to listen. the world appreciates that.

so, i've seen a lot of places lately, right? and i let the worldly whisper echo gently into my mind, stoking the fire with these great ideas. i think it must burn in my eyes, because everything looks different afterwards. and it burns in my heart because it keeps me up sometimes late at night, not like it would were i a tough guy. it's harder to be soft than hard, at first. it gets better with time. now it's time to really change things, to take into consideration the wellness of the future of the children of the world. this fire tells me that, not with whispers but with waving arms that lick the night like the flames they are.

this is an open invitation to join in on this great idea, to help change the world, one child's future at a time.

i'm really worried that those shoes that all the kids are wearing, the ones with the wheels in the heel, are going to seriously screw up their bodies after prolonged use. i really do. i fear for the hips, knees, ankles, and gaits of children who wear heeleys. i watch them scoot around on one of their heels-- they never evenly scoot, from what i can tell-- trailing behind them a vapor trail of physical imbalance for years to come that could result in the need for a hip replacement, or, in the very least, lot's of physical therapy.

look at the facts. the shoes are these huge, frankenstein-heavy shoes with wheels on the heel. it seems that before kids even have a fair chance to learn to walk properly, they get a pair strapped on and are set free to scoot with relative impunity. all of their weight either goes directly through a locked knee into the heel or spent wobbling around on the tips of their toes. for a lot of the children, i'd wager that this is their only form of physical exercise. this weighs heavy on my heart, the clouds that are rapidly forming on the clear horizon of what's to come. the whole flashing-red-lights-on-the-shoe phenomena was bad enough, abuse of which only resulted in a dead battery. are heeley's really worth a hip-replacement surgery at a young age? furthermore, i'm curious as to why nobody has demanded a full report of heeley's-related injuries over the past few years.

my great idea is twofold: either to a) convince someone to design a fully ergonomic version of heeley's that offer full arch support, an airbag, detailed user manual, and automatic shut-off timer, or b) learn to let children, and those who watch out for them, make their own decisions pertaining to their future and let it go. i've got so many more great ideas that could really use the space to grow, so the world better watch out one way or another. if they don't come to life, things might just spin way outta control.

for your consideration: www.phoenixflowyoga.com

Scott Twyster — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 10:50:59 GMT

admittedly, i've been busy. check out why-- and now where-- at our new website:

www.phoenixflowyoga.com

you can track where i'm going or where i'll be on the upcoming events page, see pictures and video on the-- yup-- pictures and video page, and.... well, the long/short is that you'll get a good idea about what i've been up to for the last year or so.

it's only a beginning, and i think a pretty good one at that.

.looking forward.

an actual sanctioned ferry

Scott Twyster — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 18:32:24 GMT

"it all depends on the fishing situation, really. i suggest that if you
happen to see anyone who looks like a captain, ask them if they can help
you out."

after an overnight bus from istanbul to ayvalik, a quiet seaside town on
the southwestern coast of turkey, this wasn't really what i was hoping
to hear. considering that the bus ride was pretty comfortable-- much
more so than any bus i've ridden on before, actually-- i received the
news rather impartially, if not somewhat easily. seyda, a friend back in
istanbul was being more than accommodating during her commute between
yoga mat and lectern.by calling the ferry office and talking turkish
with the congenial and extremely effeminate young gentleman behind the desk.

anyone who looks like a captian, i see. you mean like rubber boots, a
white beard, and an eyepatch?
"yeah. they might have a boat or something."
naturally.

the workshops in istanbul were a brief stop between austria and our
retreat in lesvos. geographically, it seemed to work out perfectly. a
little research yielded that one can easily and cheaply take a bus to a
ferry instead of flying from istanbul to greece. i mean, why not? i love
me a little adventure now and again, and adventure is what i got. the
fishing situation didn't really work out in our favor, but the upswing
was a quiet night in a lovely pension overlooking a gentle seaside
fishing village. haute coture this season was, oddly enough, rubber
boots and eye-patches. try as we might, however, nobody could do more
than direct us to the company with the internet discrepancy. what. to. do.

i entered greece the next day on an actual sanctioned ferry, just in
time to hop in a cab with two yogis from vienna who came here to take
part on the retreat we're leading, which is now in full swing. we go
until wednesday and then catch a scheduled, official ferry to athens to
lead a smaller weekend workshop the following weekend. that's how we
roll, of course.

it's beautiful here, and it feels good to have a full schedule for the
week. i'm ready to roll that through to the rest of my life, and am
looking forward to settling down in germany for a while to figure out
the next moves. there is this silent nudge-nudge to go back to nyc for a
few days at the end of april, but i'm getting really tired of traveling.
it would mean changing a flight from oslo to frankfurt and staying at
the airport to hop a plane to amsterdam, wait 12 hours, and then jump to
the states. that would be one long day. plus, i'm flying my friend jake
out to deutchland to help me film a yoga dvd that i plan to market to
guys who don't do yoga. it's called averagejoga: everyday yoga for the
everyday man.

yup. i'm going digital.

it is a little odd to come back to a place where i spent two weeks
training my sit bones off for acro-training. the island is a lot
different-- there has been a lot of rain in the past few months, which
means there is an abundance of green and flowers everywhere. the skies
are extremely clear, the days warm, and the nights windy and cool. it's
a nice melange of seasonal weather. i'm not too sure what the weather
will be like in the scandinavian countries, but i don't think it's gonna
be as warm as it is here.

let's keep our finger crossed, shall we?

tipping the scales

Scott Twyster — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 13:30:00 GMT

everything here is fine. fine, fine, fine.

traveling from the middle east to austria? fine. settling into our friend's place? just fine. our workshops here in vienna all weekend? fine as wine. tomorrow, i hop on a plane to istanbul, and i imagine that should be just fine and, dare i say, dandy.

something brews below the surface. i believe that the word 'fine'-- just like the word 'interesting' or 'whatever'-- is a cop-out, filler word, the verbal equivalent of shrugging one's shoulders, looking away, and going 'meh!'

i'm really starting to grow tired of traveling, of going from country to country, of sleeping in different beds, of having to adjust to different time zones, local foods,cultural customs... which is everything my current path consists of. i'm really hungering for some regularity right about now. with a little more than one month to go before getting back to germany-- which should serve as home base for some time-- i'm entering the home stretch of this nomadic lifestyle. the itinerant terrain doesn't seem to be so conducive to a lazy stroll towards the finish line, however. nope, the next month is looks to stack on the most mileage i've done in a long time.

vienna to istanbul via plane. istanbul to lesvos via bus and ferry. lesvos to athens via overnight ferry. athens to monemvasia back to athens via car. athens to stockholm via plane. stockholm to oslo via train. oslo to frankfurt via plane. frankfurt to herxheim via car.

all in one month.

i'm ok with the traveling, really. i'm cool with the cultural change-- in fact, i really enjoy that the most. i can handle the random bedding situation. what's really bothering me is the backpack i'm carrying and the contents it contains. i am tired of wearing the same damn clothing all of the time. i've crossed so many different climate changes in so many different countries that packing to accommodate each possible forecast is nigh impossible while adhering to the airline maximum 20kg luggage limit. i end up wearing the same pair of jeans and rotate between three different shirts while layering every thicker piece of outwear i own in the cooler climates. it would have been easier to start colder and travel towards warmth, but fate has flipped the script.

the strange strain of homesickness i'm experiencing right now is centered around a full closet left behind at my parent's house in long island. walking through the wind-swept cobblestone streets of far-off places feeling more homeless than home-free, i can't help but question the presence of this newfound anchored attachment. would any of the items there would be any different than the ones i have now? only a few things fit the body or the personality piloting it.

it's an odd feeling. i'm 78.5 kilos, or about 160 lbs. when i left nyc in august, i was 90 kilos. plus, there was little need to wear much more than some colorful shorts and a pair of sandals while living in india. julia used to joke about how funny i would look wearing a shirt. now she just wants me to eat more (don't worry, mom. i eat plenty. i'm healthy and strong.).

concern for my appearance was one thing i've never really worried much about, as i've always felt very comfortable in my surroundings and with myself. however, as my options for comfortable clothing are extremely limited-- as is my capacity for carrying it with me-- and my surroundings constantly changing, i am at somewhat of a loss to do much more than look forward to settling down in one place and find a routine to rectify.

in the meantime, going shopping only serves to frustrate me more. i can't seem to find anything i like, and when i do, it either isn't my size or isn't made for my gender. case and point: bench apparel. bench is an amazing clothing brand based in the uk who offers some really well-made fashionably technical gear. however, whereas the womens line has an assortment of cool looking gear-- replete with thumb holes (heaven-sent), parallel front double-zips for ventilation, and usefully fashionable collars-- any item in the mens line that i've found so far looks like american apparel in the year 2145. additionally, all of the cool stuff for women is almost half the price as the less-spectacular mens line. considering that i don't have that much euro to throw around, i just walk on by.

i didn't care that i don't have health insurance after getting in a serious motorcycle accident in vietnam. it hasn't bothered me that i've put off my college loans until further notice. i haven't thought twice about purchasing any of the plane tickets or various items necessary to get from from yoga studio a to yoga studio b. my life lately has found a nice balance between not taking money out of the bank while not putting any in. i'm thinking it's time to stop padding my mattress with bank notes and seriously start tipping the scales in a positive direction.for the first time since i left nyc back in 2007, i'm feeling the crunch of not having the full-time job. why? because i can't find nor buy the clothing i want.

how funny is that? i can't help but feel a little bit better and a little more thankful for the life i have if my biggest issue is not having enough money to buy nicer clothes. fine, whatever. at the end of the day, it's all good.

there were even samosas!

Scott Twyster — Sun, 15 Mar 2009 10:12:00 GMT

every exhale is a celebration, and every inhale a preparation to celebrate. be it solemn, inspiring, enthusiastic, or observant, this celebratory breath honors the moment. out here in the desert, i often find myself breathing quite deeply. there is plenty to honor, even if only to honor an effort to remain open to new experience.

today is my last day in abu-dhabi after two remarkable weeks. i arrived here balancing delicately between having no expectations and hugely sharp ones. this reflected itself on my last day in india as i choose what items to pack and what to send home. i'll be spending 20 days in the middle east. the middle east is in the desert. the desert is hot and dry. the emirates are a muslim country. i'm going to need proper clothing-- long sleeves and respectfully casual attire. i've been living in india. i don't really have many long sleeves or much respectfully casual attire. all i have are bright colors, cowboy shirts, and yoga clothing. from what i've gathered, everyone there is wearing long, flowing robes and headwraps. i don't even think i can hold hands with or-- gasp!!-- kiss julia in public. great. i guess we'll have to just wing it.

as it turns out, abu-dhabi is much more than the fashion and cultural equivalent of a 1950's high school dance for wizards. i've gotten by rocking my colorblind cowboy chic, and managed to drop into a very busy work schedule. we only had two days of workshops scheduled when we arrived, and we punch out from working overtime after a 40 hour work week. india creates an open space for one to easily reinvent themselves, although invention is just a brief spark in the wind. application stokes the fire of evolution, and as darwin would have it, the middle east has been a supportive environment as my bodywork experience evolves.

the days have been full of private yoga, inversion therapy, and four-hands abhiyanga (oil massage) sessions with julia for the local yogis. we've run through almost a litre of sesame oil as we soothe other bodies muscles while testing out own. i've learned way more than i've taught-- from my partner, from the people in our classes, from the culture-- a characteristic of life which i happily wish to continue. my body, however, is tired from a constant expenditure of energy combined with the struggles of reacclimation from india to a more western country. different food, different weather, and a lot more air conditioning and malls. wake up. cold. walk outside. hot. go to supermarket. cold. walk to mall. hot. buy new headwrap. totally cool. walk to beach. hot. cab home. cold. do yoga. hot.

we've been good about seeing as much as we can while working as much as we can. two days ago, we went to the desert for off-road excitement across the dunes, camel rides, and shisha under the stars. it was pretty extreme, but then again, everything in this place is pretty extreme. even the school system is pretty extreme, in that you will find 23 kids from 23 different countries in one class. we jumped at the opportunity to sit in on while our friend taught her 1st grade class at the canadian international school.

that was an interesting day, to say the last. out transition from abu-dhabi to dubai started at 6am. if there is one thing constant between every here and there i've seen during my to and fro, school teachers wake up early everywhere. the middle east is no exception. after spending all morning with an assortment of curious and excited children, we ducked out of the classroom into a quiet office to receive a phonecall from siobhan leyden, a popular radio talk show host on the ARN. somebody told somebody else something about our whatever, and we got an email from ms. leyden requesting an interview to hype our upcoming workshops at zen yoga in dubai.

naturally, we accepted... on the condition, of course, that it would not interfere with our prior arrangement to perform in front of the whole student body of the canadian international school. now, we've had some fun audiences for our performances, but nothing can quite compare to the echoing screams of 250 enthusiastic children in a cavernous gymnasium. i'm pretty sure that is the best environment to fully enjoy the true sound of oooooh and aaaaaaah. business as usual, i suppose. toss julia around on my feet, sweat a lot, play with children. all in a days work, and it was only 1:34pm.

after school ended, laila drove with us to dubai, a city which is a strange hybrid of gotham city and the movie brazil. buildings seem to go up and down with realative impunity and without any regard for the laws of nature right in front of your eyes. we knew where we had to go, and still we got lost. baffling. we've been comfortably received and nested in a nicely-appointed master bedroom in a suite on the 17tth floor of a residential apartment complex that looks exactly like 15 others in close proximity. hidden in plain sight amidst an urban suburban sprawl.

the evening was to wind down at a cafe and artists space called the jam jar. we were invited to the birthday celebration of a local filmmaker who wished to enter his 30th year among friends and yogis. i immediately felt at home in a large, spacious renovated warehouse filled with modern art and creative supplies available for all to use. we moved, we flew, we breathed, and we meditated. there were even samosas! it was a quite enjoyable entrance to yet another dynamic facet of the middle eastern crown jewel.

metube

Scott Twyster — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 15:46:00 GMT

it is because of this man that i've decided to build a tandoor oven when i settle in germany:

indian people love to stare, they love to crowd, and they love westerners doing acrobatics. we made 7 rupee that day!

q: what sounds like a nightmare and shines like a drawer of knives?
a: an indian marching band.

this is what it is like when you try to find a seat in general class on a midnight train from haridwar to varanasi. note the people hanging out of the doors. note them.

what a crazy omlette

Scott Twyster — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 11:26:00 GMT

this city is unreal.
'36 years ago, there was nothing. just sand. just desert.'
what was it like when you got here?
'i lived in small villa with my husband. we drink chai. i take care of baby and learn arabic.'
that sounds intense.
'it was boring. i decide to start business instead.'
what is it like seeing how the city has grown in such a short time?
'the sheiks here, they have money and they are not afraid to spend it.'

i've been spending a lot of time with a croation hairdresser named ivana during my time in abu-dhabi, whom julia and i met during the workshops. she's taken us for coffee at the emirates palace, helped to arrange horse riding lessons at the equestrian club, set up a desert safari, and took us out salsa dancing at club zenith. the emirates palace is a seven-star luxury hotel (with modest rooms beginning at $3000aed/$1000us a night), the coffee was dusted with gold flakes, the horses are the finest arabian horses available, and the salsa lessons were... well, just regular ol' salsa lessons.

it's hard to paint a realistic picture of this place. the paints seem to all be mislabeled, the brushes either too fine or too soft, and the canvas has been stretched very tight across the frame.

after a full morning of giving treatments, ivana took us on a tour of the city which entailed either the execution or planning of the aforementioned activities. at around 2pm, our capacities for tourism were maxed out, so we had her drop us off at the marina so we could relax on our friend gavin's boat. basking in the sun, i blissfully allowed my brain to shut off. it did.

at this point i realized that i have four different types of currency in my wallet: indian rupees, euros, us dollars, and dirhams. where the hell am i?

i opened my eyes to a skyful of blue, across which a mast with sails drawn gently rocked. the boat gently creaked against it's moorings. in the distance, jet skis soared across blue crystal-smooth waters. the workers on the neighboring yacht played poker in the shade on the dock. a seagull lazily cawed, presumably to another seagull socialite about the quality of the caviar offered at a nearby seaside shisha bar. next to me, a sleeping monkey stirred.

it was all too real, so strangely familiar yet remarkably foreign. with traces of indian dust still deeply ingrained under my fingernails, i've got the pearly sand of arabian nights breezing silk between my toes. i need reference. i need to check in. i need something to help bring me back to and ground me down firmly through my roots.

i need to go to the mall.

growing up on long island, one could easily hear that statement a few times daily. my culture was commerece, my peasant foods were a selection of 'international delicacies' from the food court. the native long islander dress was a selection of clothing from stores like abercrombie & fitch, guess, pacific sunwear, and j. crew. like an episode of lost, i escaped the island only to lose my mind somewhere between the ebb and flow of the present and the past. i needed to reconnect with a constant between the two.

the marina mall is one of the larger malls in abu-dhabi, and is aptly named due to the close proximity to the marina where our boat was parked. by close, i mean five minutes. walking. slowly. which is exactly what i did. the parking lot was filled with a variety large and/or fast cars, which allowed for the walk to be engagingly slow. i entered the mall through a large circular revolving door, escaping the hot desert sun into the air-conditioned kiss of marbled architecture. so much for cultural constants.

earlier in the day, when we walked around the emirates palace-- the extremely expensive hotel built by the late sheik zayed--i observed a feeling that i was walking around a casino in vegas. the only difference, and an extremely large on at that, was in the type of people who were walking around with me. one is hard pressed to find a truely quiet spot in las vegas while walking around the cavernous hallways and thoroughfares both inside and connecting the casinos. you can wander aimless ly among the garish and the ornate, be it the level of decor or type of personality. no expense is spared to simulate an experience of authenticity.

and that's just it. whereas a place like vegas simulates the experience of authenticity for anyone who can afford a ticket to ride, abu-dhabi is home for those who live the real thing. this is no simulation of luxury, it is the authentic experience. despite this, barring the skyrocketing price of reali estate, living in abu-dhabi is surprisingly amenable to the traveling yogi's pocket. the dirham (or the euro or rupee or dollar) goes pretty far here. walking around the mall, i started to breathe a little easier as i perused comfortably repulsive storefronts like accessorize!, radio shack, baskin' robins, the gap, and starbucks. the halls were just as sparely populated as those in the emirates palace, yet the design was remarkably similar with regard to attention to detail.

whoever built this city did not do it on rock and roll. artisans have been chartered. even in its most excessive parts, abu-dhabi retains a sense of style and taste. of course, much like my own appreciation for where i come from, i don't necessarily always agree with whoever's style and taste it is.

'the sheik. he want to build city. so he build city, build break water, push back beach. the road we drive on? this was not here two years ago.'
julia: 'where did he get all of the trees from? these are old trees.'
'he buy them and fly them in. he had a vision.'
he definitely did.
'the sheik, he said he wants bird. so he buys three or four million birds and let's them loose.'
why not?
'the birds shit everwhere. people complain. so the sheik, he buys cats. the birds disappear.'
naturally. sounds like a good solution to me.
no. the cats, they get sick. start to die. the people complain. so they burn them.'
the cats?
yes, they collect the cats and burn them.
we have a saying in america: you can't make an omletter without breaking some eggs.
'so?'
sounds like a few eggs were broken when the sheik was building his dream.
'what a crazy omlette.'
agreed.

they funny part is that once i begin to comprehend the level of fantasy vs. fantastic reality of my current surroundings, i check cnn for news back in the states to find out completely ridiculous events like THIS which beg the question, "which society is stranger-- the west or the middle east?"

rock the phonecall

Scott Twyster — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 15:29:00 GMT

scotty would like it.
rock the phonecall, rock the phonecall.

for a good time, call +971 50 825 3171.

frantically grabbing for cultural context

Scott Twyster — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 07:15:00 GMT

typing. typing. typing... pause. hmmm.
click, drag, delete.
typing, typing, typing.... pause. sigh.
click, drag, delete.
somewhat frustrated tap-tap-tapping...
backspaceBACKSPACEBACKSPACE
pause. staring off at the wall.

crack knuckles.
deep breath.

abu-dhabi is surreal, and i'm somewhat at a loss on where to begin to explain how. let's start with the obvious:

-there are palaces everywhere. by palace, i'm referring to full-on castle-like complexes, complete with minarets, crenelated parapets, and barbicans.

-men wear dishdashah and women wear abaya.

-everyone drives large and/or fast cars.

-you will hear hear the salaah five times a day, no matter where you are.

-the standard beverage can here utilizes pull-tab technology instead of the standard stay-tab in the west.

-on a good day, it's hot and sunny. on a bad one, it is oppressively hot and sunny, not to mention windy and dusty. and humid. in the shade.

-the weekend here is friday and saturday. this means that sundays are the new monday, and thursdays are the new friday, except that its not new at all. it is now monday, and i have no clue what that means other than tonight is chili night at my friend's house... yay!

-gas is cheap, and by cheap, i mean 15 years ago cheap. 99cents a gallon cheap. this is most likely why everyone is inclined to drive large and/or fast cars.

-people park their large and/or fast cars everywhere, with little regard for anyone or thing else. parking lots are huge, overpacked, and completely ineffective.

-physical contact between men and women is somewhat of a no-no. up until recently, it was a major no-no, but now it seems o.k. to touch hands in public, although i feel that i might go to jail if anyone catches julia and i holding hands. we joke about that, but deep down it's a little unsettling.

overall, abu-dhabi is a mix of las vegas, fort lauderdale, and long island, resulting in a strange mix of familiarity and foreign displacement. we have been incredibly well-received by the yoga community here, and our friends who are hosting us have been very warm and accomodating. of course, this has also been in a very surreal fashion.

saturday was a perfect example. after a full day of successful workshops, we all went sailing around the arabian gulf on a 50ft boat. we swam, rode the jet ski, flew on the bow and barbequed as a golden sun dipped below a glowing horizon artfully dotted by palm-trees and, you guessed it, palaces. taking it's place was a brilliant shiva moon dotted with the cyclops eye of venus. we had satelite internet. i chatted with one of my best men, ehren, over skype. he enthusicastically showed me his new office. i excitedly described to him the current state of affiars.

all of this would be pretty mind-blowing were i to arrive here from anywhere in europe or the states. to make the jump from india to the middle east, however, has left me frantically grabbing for cultural context as the whirlwind tour continues to slide across the globe. we'll be here for the next two weeks before heading to dubai for another weekend of workshops. i'm still trying to both climatize to both the weather and the culture, and presume that this may take a few more days before i can truely begin to process and relate what the heck is going on over here.

overall, it should be noted that spirits are (very) high and that we're extremely busy catching up on all sorts of admin work for the rest of the tour, planning a wedding or two for the summer, giving private treatments and personal trainings, and that last night i was in my first motorcyle stop-light road race. even though i was just a passenger and that it lasted no longer than one city block, we won as a result of going incredibly fast.*

surreal or otherwise, i gotta say that i like it here.

*yes, mom, i was wearing a helmet.

so up it went, the box on my head, and we took off down the road.

Scott Twyster — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 16:35:00 GMT

i work up on a chilly 3AC sleeper car on the rajadhani express train from new delhi to mumbai with an extremely dry mouth to the rumble of distressed intestines. glancing at my cellphone, my tired eyes informed me that it was 7am. already the train car was coming to life-- most likely it had been for quite some time. babies were crying, teeth were being brushed, the all-too-familiar cookie monster rattle of the roving chaiwallahs peddling their wares ("chaichaichai! ch-aiiiiiwallahCHAI!!") echoed across waking ears, almost giving match to the rattling snores of sleeping indian giants still haunting my return to consciousness.

wading through this symphony of awakening, i made my way to the toilets to brush my teeth and humor the tympanic borborygmus of my lower abdominals. exiting the ac cab into the velvet bath of a humid south indian morning, i arrived just in time to see a woman unsuccessfully attempt to help her two-year old daughter relieve herself in the public sink where i, and so many other riders on the train, were to wash their face and brush their teeth. the little girl, however, hit with alarming accuracy a large urn of chai waiting to be served and two stacks of paper cups in which to serve it.

the mother looked up. we met eyes. she smiled and slowly hoverered her daughter in such a way to finally direct most her stream into the aluminum basin.

i did not smile back. instead, i calmly continued passed this mess into the next car, where i swooped into the indian style bathroom to process and reflect. a marquee flashed brightly across the backs of my eyelids as i prepared to play intestinal russian roulette.

fuck this place, it read. i'm out.

india is dirty. and loud. and at many times caustic. the mother giveth and taketh away with great impunity, yet loves and nurtures with such devotion. it takes time and gives it back. when it's easy, it's never very easy, and when it isn't, it can feel downright impossible. my last day in india started with such honest reality-- pissing in a cup and calling it chai-- and would only promise to become even more culturally exciting.

our train arrived at 8:30am, and we arrived at our friend ania's apartment complex about 30 minutes later. i have fond memories of this place. aside from the fact that julia and i decided to get married there, we also have taken to blowing the minds of the guards at the front gate every time we enter and exit. in addition to signing the guest register every time with an extremely humorous name, they always seemed so impressed by the sheer amount of stuff we'd be carrying with us. last time we were there, we passed by them about 8 times carrying two backpacks each in one day. today was no different.

after settling in and showering, we began the arduous process of choosing which items to take with us for the next three months as we travel across the middle east and europe, and which to mail back home to germany. this took a few hours, as we also spent a great deal of time catching up on email and chatting with friends on the internet (a commodity which has been in short supply as of late). at 2pm, we packed up two duffels of things we wanted to mail back and left the complex yet again, most likely to the extreme curiosity of our new friends, the gate guards.

we walked right by the post office the first time because it looked closed. upon retracing our steps, we found that it was, in fact, in the process of closing down for the day. at 2:10pm. we were informed to go to one of the main branches in dadar, a neighborhood 15 minutes away by taxi. we opted to try our luck at a parcel courier service a kilometer or two down the road before pursuing that route.

on the way to the courier we had seen before, we passed another agency and decided to try our luck. they were all to happy to send our package to germany. we unloaded our bags into an empty box and weighed it: 20kg.

how much to send package, baba?
'checking, checking. please sit.'
no, i'll stand, thank you.
'15,365 rupees, sir.'
thank you, we'll pass. how much for the box?
'50 rupees.'
really? how about 10? i find better one in trash, where you found it. (yes, my grammar is simple on purpose).
'no, 50.'
unpack the box.
'why?'
because no matter how greedy you are, i can be more proud than you ever will. have much experience.
'ok, then. please accept box as my gift.'
thank you.

he offered me the box on the gamble that i wouldn't want to walk out of the office lugging almost 45 lbs of assorted blah down a busy mumbai street on an extremely humid day. he was wrong. some people try their hand at immersing themselves into local culture by taking classes as introductions to native life. julia, for instance, took a couple of really nice cooking classes while in rishikesh. i, on the other hand, wanted to see what it was like to be a cooley in india for a day.

so up it went, the box on my head, and we took off down the road.

we finally reached our preferred courier location. the best price he could do was 7500. this man worked hard, and we really liked him. the fact of the matter was that we should have to pay no higher than 3500 tops. at this point in the game, no amount of respect could best that great divide. he was extremely helpful on directing us to another, more centrally located main post office branch in a neighborhood we wanted to be in later.

so up it went, the box on my head, and we took off down the road.

on the way, i crossed paths with a fellow journeyman. we locked eyes for a moment in silent alliance. fuck this place, i read. i want out.
i was inclined to disagree, as i was having fun. we moved on.

most likely never to cross paths again.

we hopped a train at currey road to mumbai c.s.t . one bottle of water, one veg sandwich later, and a smattering of hopeful directions, we went seeking for the nearby post office. when a westerner carries a 20kg parcel on their head down an extremely busy street in downtown bombay like a woman selling fruit on the sandy beaches of goa, understandably one will receive a great deal of attention. occasionally, i felt twinge of sheepishness where i wanted to lower my head to ignore the staring eyes, catcalls, and constant observation of prying indian eyes. the great part of bearing such a load is that lowering one's head is not an option. one must ground down to lift up. all of my headstand and inversion work was to pay off today.

so up it went, the box on my head, and we took off down the road.

we arrived at the post office. much to our dismay, the counter we wanted was closed. we were quoted 7000 for speed post. we were looking for seal-- ship, air, land-- the most economical and slowest way possible.

how much for that service?
'that would be 2800 rupees, sir.'
sweet. when does counter open?
'that would be at 10 o'clock am, sir.'
not good. we're in abu dhabi by then.

mailing a package in india requires two copies of your passport, a full itemized list of the contents of the parcel, and for the whole box to be sewn up in white canvas. only then can it be shipped to its destination over the course of 60 days. we played the game. we had our package wrapped. we haggled the wrapper down from 250 to 150. it was 5:45pm. i've carried 44 lbs. atop my skeleton for almost 4 hours. it's thali time.

so up it went, the box on my head, and we took off down the road.

we arrived at samrat, the indian version of the golden corral's child with a brazilian curriscaria, sat down and order two thalis. 'no sir, i am sorry. no thalis until 7pm.' of course, why not? may i leave my box here while we walk around?'oh no sir, i am sorry. you must take box with you.' gladly.

one amazing decadent thali later, we headed home. catching the local commuter railway at churchgate station, we got off at lower parel, and made our way back to ania's house. on the way home, i stopped off for a quick shave. i ended up staying for quite a long one.

julia ordered me a lord jafar , aladdin-style, and i sure got the royal treatment. the shave itself, from later to edging, took about 30 minutes. then came the facial massage, and then the alum. followed by the aftershave... and then the brick of ice.

yeah, that's what i said. a brick of ice.

i told him politely to 'just stop. don't touch the hair', when he plugged in his crimping iron and took out the hot oil to treat my hair. the guy wanted to give me a perm. no joke. he then tried to charge me 200 rupee for the 15 rupee shave i sat down for. i offered him 50 and told him i want change. in front of our perpetual crowd of indian men, he took my bill and handed me two tens. we were both happy. and in returning home, our friends-- the guards-- were happy to receive us.

it's been one hell of a last day in india. i've got about 2 hours of sleep ahead of me before we make out way to the airport to catch a plane to the emirates. am i ready to go? oh yes. very much. will i ever come back? definitely. i can't seem to get enough, even if my day starts out raining piss when all i wanted was a chai and ends with the coolest shave ever.

and i'm out.

heralded by sunshine and roses

Scott Twyster — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 16:40:02 GMT

like a pond, i reflect. stillness on the surface, while below the
countless orchestras of life swarm aria, after aria, after aira. drop a
stone to slide ripples across the seemingly seamless surface, where--
given the right circumstances-- tiny waves can easily grow tidal. here
it goes again, that familiar energy which tap-tap-taps on the stained
glass picture of the soul. thoughts and emotions that have waited until
the right nightfall have emerged from the brush to throwing tiny rocks--
images wrapped around words-- at a window far-off with incredulous
precision. each hit echoes a reminder...

it's time. time to write. and reflect. there is fire under the kettle,
and a rolling boil for quite some time. there are leaves resting in
teacups and steam waiting to whistle.

chai, anyone?

so often i ask myself, in one form or another, a variation of the
question 'what the hell i am doing with my life?' so often, the answer
both reassures and surprises. this
question does not reflect fear or doubt about a choosen path. instead,
it serves to illuminate and support the steps taken. to be sure, these
steps are not all heralded by sunshine and roses. there are challenges.
there is pain. there has been plenty of opportunity for misery to preside.

by the same token, there have been an equal number of opportunities to
excel, embrace, and expand, to welcome abundance across the board--
love, light, success. you name it, it's there. in a world full of
magicians-- some good, some bad, yet all magicians nonetheless-- one can
either learn new tricks or continually study the old ones. either way,
it is up to the individual to decide if they believe in their own act or
simply believe they can convince others to.

rishikesh proper is not unlike most smallish-to-midsized indian cities,
replete with the honk and circumstance of balancing on the edge between
the first- and third-world. you've got shops galore, rickshaws and taxis
weaving traffic tapestries with deadly accuracy, and a fine layer of
dust to make sure everything is only as bright as it is meant to be. it
only takes 5 rupees to leave that behind, to hop a shared rickshaw for
the quiet mountain- and riverside villages of ram juhla and laxman
juhla, named after the footbridges that span across the rushing glacial
flow of the ganges. the holy river, the lifeblood of india winds through
the temperate rainforest of the himalyan foothills, cutting a blue-green
swath which perfectly balances the cloudless sky and untouched countryside.

i immediately fell in love with rishikesh. it's quiet, yet not too far
from the reality of the country it's part of. dozens of classes are
offered to those seeking to expand
their cooking skills, their yoga knowledge, their ability to read palms,
figure out their vedic astrological star chart, or to build a harmonium,
among other things. one
is never too far away from a delicious cup of chai, a cow rooting around
for a tasty morsel, a monkey trying to steal one, or a saddus observing
the whole situation while greeting you with 'hare OM!'

we stayed in an ashram that could most likely be seen from the upper
reaches of the atmosphere. imagine a minimum-security prison. paint it
bright orange, white, and blue. liberally decorate with hand-crafted
statues depicting the entire pantheon of hindu gods and goddess. this
technicolor dreamcoat overlooked the stoic majesty of the ganges, and we
celebrated our apprecition for 360 of vibrance by practicing daily on
the white marble ghat between the ashram and the rocky shores.

opportunity surrounds us in a multitude of flavors, and feeds strongly
into my belief of luck. good luck, as i've come to believe, is just an
opportunity realized and often a result of a positive effort in some
direction. call it karma, call it whatever you want. there is no
difference in finding a sack full of money on the street than being
struck by lightning if one removes all preconceived notions of
consequence governed by an idea of 'good' or 'bad'.

reality is much more than our perception of it. abstract ideas are made
even more abstract when we try to describe and understand them with
self-created things called 'words'. my respect deepens for as i'm
continually blessed by an ability to travel, connect, and create, yet i
continually find myself struggling with being able to
satisfying a desire to fully communicate the experience. hence,
teakettles whistle and pebbles wrap on windowpanes like two lovers
strumming on each other's heartstrings: eloquently, deliberately, and
passionately.

by walking around, one can easily understand how rishikesh is seen as
one of india's holiest cities. the scenery touches one with an almost
electric awareness, the soft radio hum of putting a wool sweater on
during a dry, cool day. you feel it in your hair, on your skin, with
each step; the energy of the landscape charges and recharges.

i've developed a love-hate relationship with my camera. when i first
came to india, which by my estimation was about 7000 years ago (i
think), there were two cameras in tow. one was a rather nice digital slr
and the other a purportedly indestructible point-and-shoot. a goan
bandit freed me from a need to worry about carrying the rather bulky
slr, and allowed me to deepen my relationship with the olympus. it can
take an olympic amount of abuse. submerge it underwater, drop it from a
scooter driving 40km/hr, expose it to open flame... it doesn't matter.
it will still work as well as it did right out of the box. the only
catch is that it kinda sucked right out of the box. for the most part,
it takes lackluster pictures and is rendered almost completely useless
in low-light conditions. every so often, however, if the sun is right
(not to mention the moon, mercury, the tides, and the price of tea in
china), it completely redeems itself with the occasional staggeringly
amazing snapshot.

one cannot plan this, though, so one has to take matters into their own
hands... or place them into the hands of someone else more capable.
enter alon and leah, an isralei couple on the first leg of an extended
5-month journey through india and an even longer ride around the world.
my kind of people. alon had a nice camera. julia asked him if he'd be
interested in taking some pictures. after the first two people i asked
politely, if not somewhat alarmingly, declined, i decided to send the
cute german monkey in to do a lion's job. it totally worked. not only
did we scored some amazing shots, but we initated two more advocates
into the phoenix flow.

what the hell am i doing with my life? i've just spent four months in
india, studying yoga and sharing my understanding of it. in two days
i'll be in abu-dhabi to begin yet another lap around a large part of the
globe. i still haven't worked out a viable answer for health insurance
other than marrying a german national. my mother said that i'm being
slightly audited by the irs- only slightly, mind you, for the sum of
$110us. were i to care to continue on by looking close enough, the list
could grow.

obviously, the circumstances beg to question the current state of
affairs. so far, the answer still remains glaringly positive. i'm
celebrating. there is much to be thankful
for, and i intend to appreciate. even when things start to burn, as my
wise friend gene puts it, the fire works like a kiln to strengthen the clay.

it was an incredibly well-timed comment, gene, especially after my long
day in hardiwar to observe shivaratri, the birthday of arguably india's
most revered deity. there were marching bands, fireworks, screaming,
chanting, screaming chants, dancing in the streets, and beggars
exercising their right to choose... and we had barely just eaten lunch.
once the sun fell low behind the dilapidated stucco skyline, thousands
of observants gathered on the banks of the ganges for the gangaarti,
offering puja while bathing in the holy waters to wash away sin.

there was fire everywhere. bellowing from multi-necked oil lamps,
twirled through the air by monks. bore by children on silver platters to
recieve donations amid gentle crowds of saris, headwraps, and bushy
mustaches. riding the eager current rush of frigid gray water on a raft
made of leaves and full of colorful flowers. in the eyes of everyone who
looked on. in the hearts of those touched. in the minds of those present.

that night, at the train station, i met the indian equivalent of rodney
dangerfield. he never really looked me in the eyes, nor seemed to take
himself or the conversation
seriously. his name was rahul, and he certianly had a lot of
self-depricating opinions about india. he spoke of the dirt, the
loudness, the clutter, the strange customs in a both a serious and
joking way. i wasn't sure if he was speaking with me or for me, perhaps
trying to humor a certain degree of unspoken or unacknowledged disdain
for cartain parts of india.

i thought a lot about rahul that night. then i fell asleep. the next
morning, en route from old delhi to new delhi tran station, i had my
luggage searched by a solider in the
indian army who told me that "my hairstyle is beautiful." julia has been
braiding my lion's mane into cornrolls, and according to certain people,
i look like a white
ludachris when this happens. at other times, especially when i sit with
my legs crossed while drinking chai at the dream cafe in ram juhla, old
indian men seem to think that i "look like mighty lord shiva. om namah
shivaya!"

exactly what the hell am i doing with my life? quite simply, and without
a seed of doubt, i am happily living it, aria after aria after aria.

i liked the milk so much that i bought the cow.

Scott Twyster — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 18:47:51 GMT

and, uh... hey, dad, you should really look more into what i just did,
about vipassana.
"you know what, scott? you've given me way too much to process in one
conversation."
true. i'll hit you back about that later, i guess.
"give my best to my daughter, then."
will do, pops.

i'll give her my best, as well as my worst and my in-between. i'll give
her my everything and she'll give me hers back. if all that works out--
and i highly believe it will-- then we'll really be able to get down to
business. deciding to get married is only the first step on yet another
long journey towards infinity, even if it changes absolutely nothing
between the two parties involved.

so you may ask: "and why, then, marriage?"
and i may say: why not?

part of me thinks it's just a title, a name, which is wholly unnecessary
between two lovers who are completely satisfied with their relationship.
this is the case between julia and i. another part of me sees marriage
as an institution that helps everyone else understand the seriousness of
a couple's bond, as well as to test its strength. we love each other so
much that we got married. oh, they love each other so much that they got
married. see that ring? that means marriage. those two love each other.
they are married. that's a pretty big thing, you know.

as humans, we seem to be on a neverending quest for meaning, which
entails countless parallel processes of organization to find or create
universal meaning for very specific things. marriage is a great way to
explain to everyone else how you feel about someone without having to
actually say a thing. i liked the milk so much that i bought the cow.

i didn't really propose to julia. instead, i told her that i love her
very much-- so much so, in fact, that i want to marry her. furthermore,
i added that i realize that i could easily live my life without her,
which for me was something i never previously thought was possible while
being so deep in the thick, swampy musk of love that i could just as
easily lose a boot. julia, i could easily live my life without you, and
this is exactly why i want to share as much of it as possible with you.
there is no rush or extra necessary. just truth, just love.

a month ago, things were different. we talked about marriage a few
times. if i proposed to you, i asked on one occasion, what would you
say? 'i would be lying if i said no.' well, that's just the thing,
because i don't think you'd really mean it if you said yes anyway. this
conversation happened while i was hanging a pink cloth lamp in our goan
kitchen, which is the kind of detail one does not easily forget,
especially when one lives in a pink house with their multifoliate love.

the thought of marriage is not a new one in my life. i really thought i
was going to marry the last girl i dated seriously. it was all planned
out, and beautifully so. the first time we ate chinese food together, we
began a habit of handing each other their fortune cookies. to my
knowledge, it was supposed to ensure that each fortune would come true.
i was going to rig the cookies to come out so that the one i hand her
would read "will you marry me?" she would look up-- completely
astonished, of course-- just as i would crack mine open to reveal the
ring, which was my late grandfather's and a dear family heirloom. in my
head, romantic music would swell up in the background, a flock of doves
would descend upon the restaurant, and then the credits would roll over
a montage of special moments from our relationship thus far.

as fate would have it, that didn't happen. fair enough, i suppose. i
knew exactly how i wanted to pop the question, and that i indeed wanted
to do so. one important part of the equation was missing, however: the
right time. there never was one. by the time we split up, it was too
late. i was too tied up in my own miseries and distractions to do much
else than cope.

actually, i exited stage left. act two found me in india, and the
history is at rest.

i just want you to know that i want to marry you. this doesn't mean that
we need to or have to or that i'm even asking. i want you to know how i
feel, that what we have is special, more special than any other love
i've ever experienced, a love finally second only to the love i have for
my Self. i had to peel away so much ego, so much attachment to external
sensations to confidently be able to say this without guilt, regret, or
second thought. for the first time in my life, i am completely in love
with someone that i don't need in my life, whose presence is a blessing
and who loves me back the same exact way without any doubt between us.

these were pretty much the first words i said after 9 days of complete
silence.

under a full moon, with orion and scorpio as my witnesses, i put very
rudimentary words to very dynamic emotions. it didn't really make a
difference if she said yes or no or anything in between. she responded
by telling me to ask again later. but i didn't ask. well, understand
that i can't answer that question right now. then i will ask you again
on the next full moon. perfect.

two days later, our eyes locked during a very intimate moment. you don't
have to wait until the full moon. will you marry me? yes. and that was
that. there were no doves, no fortune cookies, and no romantic music. i
think the first thing we did was google "american german marriage" while
chatting on aim with my friend mykey and my brother. i guess that's
pretty romantic.

i still don't know why people get married. i know why i want to, and why
i am. i have a match, a challenge, a reward, and a partner to share my
everything with. we both understand that it is the law of nature for
things to rise up and pass on, and fully accept whatever may come with
each new day, new step, new breath. what is really interesting that even
though we're both open to the whole idea of no expectation or
attachment, we're both being incredibly realistic in expressing how
absolutely retarded we are for each other. basically, we've dropped all
pretense and ego in order to create space for sharing a fantastic
reality together.

so there you go. i'm getting married. while it is a huge step, it really
isn't a big deal. nothing changes and everything changes every day. one
thing is for sure, though-- it's going to be quite the exciting ride,
perhaps even more so when your one fixed point moves right alongside
with you. don't worry, i'll be sure to let you know what infinity is
like if we get there. in the meantime, the plan is to enjoy the ride.

sensational permutations in the name of meditation and eventual enlightenment

Scott Twyster — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 12:50:01 GMT

my first acid experience was not a planned one. in fact, i didn't even
know i was on acid at the time. my intention was just to take a few
pills with some friends one evening. reality took a rather pointed turn
at one fathomless, unnameable point during the night in which things
went from one degree of extremely interesting to another one. just like
many other young adults in college, i went through a period of
exploration and expansion that included the consumption of various
concoctions and substances which would result in a variety of desirable
(and, at times, less-than-desirable) sensations. regarding one's
mortality as fit and folly is much easier when one has sneaking
suspicions that one will never die.

ecstacy is an aptly named substance which yields a similarly named
sensation. narcotics are like a box of chocolates, as in you never
really know what you're going to get. when my aptly named sensations
took on a somewhat different frill of distraction, i naturally wrote it
off as side-effect of psychotropic fascination. yet the soft spiral from
one cloud 9 to another kept winding as the bouncing ball which led the
chorus in my mind became an explosion of confused butterflies. i
suspected something was up-- although not at the time, mind you; only in
retrospect the next morning-- when i had a pleasant exchange with a
carrot in my friend's parent's fridge**. last night did not go as
planned, and this was chalked up as a complete success because last
night was extremely fun.

only years later, when i made a conscious decision to try lsd for the
"first time", did i realize that a) 'well, huh! i've felt this before.'
and b) i finally unlocked the secret to communicating with vegetables.
it held a familiar tone, but the song was completely different. these
time-delayed sensational permutations where i was given a short glimpse
of an experience yet to come seem to bubble up over and over again. i
can't say that the realization that snoop dogg and dr. dre were heavily
sampling from parlament funkadelic, or that i really did enjoy okra
despite never really knowing what it was, carried the same amount of
gravitas as magic sparkle of the night of the carrot.

i've just completed my first 10-day vipassana course, an immense and
immensely rewarding experience in which one becomes rapt in the depths
of their own sensational permutations in the name of meditation and
eventual enlightenment. although i'd like to add my usual adage that 'it
might not be easy, but it doesn't have to be hard' right here, in good
faith i cannot. it was a lot of work, despite the fact that one isn't
asked to do much physically. in fact, you are told not do do much else
between sessions, with only the most gentle stretching allowed and never
walking faster than a thoughtful saunter can take you. students are
charged with sitting still in a meditative position (sitting legs
crossed, hands together, eyes closed) for at least 10 hours a day. you
are up at 4am and in bed by 10 that evening.

"there is a chance for us to do vipassana before heading to rishikesh
after we leave goa. how do you feel about that?"
sure. why not?
"you know what vipassana is, right?"
yup.
"and you are ready to do it?"
are you ready to do it?
"you americans always answer questions with questions. yes."

i answered the question the same way i would accept a cup of chai--
sure, i'd like a cup of chai. that sounds nice. there was no real
thought necessary. every seemed more concerned than i was in the days
leading up to the course.

-"you know you only get two meals a day, right?"
yes.
-"you know you can't move much the whole time, right?"
yes.
-"you can't talk the whole time. 10 days of silence. scott, do you know
that?"
yes. yes i do. can i have my chai now?

the truth of the matter was that once i learned the basic skills
required to move and communicate, i've been actively exercising them for
28 years. it was high time that i sat down and shut up for a bit. the
idea of spending to days in a tranquil setting where i don't have to do
or make any decisions about my time while learning how to better use my
mind to connect with my body sounded wonderful. i didn't think it would
be easy by any stretch of the imagination, but glorious things can
happen when a little effort is expended.

thus, i sat.

the main focus of vipassana meditation revolves around the equanimous
observation of physical sensations that come up while sitting
motionless. one is asked not to judge the feelings, thoughts, or
emotions that come up during the process. your back hurt? observe it. is
your foot asleep? observe it. remember somethig that happened years ago
that just popped up for no apparent reason? observe it. got an itch?
observe it.

observe it, but do not judge it. try not to react to it. vipassana works
on helping one to not feed the habit patterns of reaction that body has
in connection with the unconscious mind. there is a much more detailed
reason that more clearly connects the two, but you are told directly not
to question at the time why it works, but to observe that it does work.
i thought that was fair-- "yeah, sure, we could bore you with a vague
description that sort of relates how it works, but even we don't
understand exactly how it works... why waste your time our ours?" in the
process of the elimination of one's various miseries and distractions,
why not just get the ball rolling before studying the physics behind it?

to be honest, a lot of ego must be released in order to truly drop in. i
had no problem with the sitting, the silence, or any of that. my biggest
challenge was true equanimity. even if i could remain non-judgemental
about the negative things that inevitably came up, i couldn't help but
enjoy when things felt good. this took quite a few days. there is a lot
of emphasis on the avoidance of craving or aversion (raga or dvesha)
towards the physical manifestations of a sub-conscious mind on red alert
under the detailed scrutiny of an observant mind.

basically, once you begin to observe the physical sensations all over
the body, you understand how the law of impermanence-- anitya, change,
the act of rising and passing away-- is the governing law of nature. you
know that buddha fellow? basically, after a boatload of self-study and
preparation, he decided that he would just sit under a banyan tree and
observe how the body and mind reacts. when sensations--and the resultant
craving or aversion attached-- arose, he simply observed them with an
unbiased mind. deep rooted seeds of misery-- sankaras-- need to be
watered to grow, and one does so by either feeding the feelings of
craving or aversion that sprout. if one can remain equanimous, these
seeds that rise up will eventually dissolve.

essentially, it's a karmawash. and, oh yes... seeds do come up, and even
if one just patiently observes, the process of rising and passing away
is not always a quick one. you know you are on the right path when you
don't want it to go very fast, nor do you want it to go very slow.
whether you care or not, you just accept it as the present moment and
remain observant. it's powerful stuff.

as i went deeper and deeper into the practice, there were many times
where i realized that i had felt these sensations before. in fact, i
came to realize that much of my personality grew in light of an
over-sensitivity to the constant sensations one uncovers when asked to
pay attention. what can i say? i'm a sensitive guy, and this sensitivity
is at times overwhelming. thus, i turn up my own volume and live louder.
funny thing, that.

my intention here is not to go too deep into my own personal experience
regarding the sensations that came up during the course. in order to
truly know, one must first experience. i've decided to answer questions
only if asked, and share with those who really want to know. on the
other hand, i am more than happy to relate a few golden moments and
observations that took place outside of the meditation itself.

i've been on the road, so to speak, for about 15 months now. at least 8
of them have spent in india. do i like i here? yes. am i excited to
leave? yes. will i come back? yes. all of this, however, does not come
from blind devotion. there is so much of this country that really tests
one's tolerance and patience. it's dirty, it's loud, the idea of
personal space is astronomically different than it is anywhere else in
the world. on an individual, case by case basis, i have had some
wonderful interactions and formed some strong bonds with indian men and
women. i must say, however, that on the whole they are incredibly adept
at pushing my "stab me in the eye with a sharp object" button. this
button has long since been broken, and even though it gets pressed
daily, the sign still remains brightly posted above it-- which in itself
is sweetly ironic and pefectly apt given the countrymen so prone to jab
it fiercely.

imagine it is a video doorbell system where once the button is pushed,
and loud airhorn sounds as live video of the caller appears on the other
end. the horn is broken (most of the time) and the video never really
turns off. it's fun to watch and easy to ignore (now), but sometimes i
still hear that airhorn. i'm glad it's broken, though, because most
indian men look like charles bronson or clint eastwood with brown skin,
and you don't want go around stabbing guys like that in the eye with
sharp objects.

i spent 10 days with about 55 indian men. my roommate, whom i never
spoke to, was a 50 year old who was a one-man-band of bodily sounds that
were not limited to any one particular situation. scratching, spitting,
burping, farting, moaning, groaning, snoring, slurping, coughin,
sighing... much more john philip sousa (star-spangled colon) than johann
sebastian bach (breaking wind in g string). mulitiply that by 54 and
imagine that cacophony everywhere you go-- in the dormitory, the
meditation hall, the dining room.

we were given buckets to take showers. hot water was available at 6:30
am-- after 90 minutes of meditation followed by breakfast-- where one
needed to walk to the top water faucet around the back of one of the
residence halls. i found that half a bucket of hot water was more than
enough to get the job done from head to toe. indian men will fill that
bucket all the way to the top, struggle with the weight of 15 liters of
hot water back towards their room, only to use half of it and leave the
rest for use later. invariably, it would be emptied out or used for
laundry long after it had cooled down.

i don't know about you, but i love philips-head screws. the preferred
screw that holds everything together in a country of over 1 billion
people is the slot-head screw. considering that everything here is held
together by screws, i am constantly baffled by this institutional
measure. in my experience, this screw requires much more effort to put
in, as the driver is prone to jumping out of the groove when the tourqe
increases. this makes using a drill extremely hard with slot-head
screws. plus, it is also much more challenging to drive the screw in
from an angle, which many projects often require. i doff my cap to mr.
philips, inventor of the cross-slotted screw, for making my screwing
experience my more enjoyable.

curry leaves are a used as a substitute for sanitary urinal cakes. go
figure.

we got to watch a video for one hour every evening of discourse from
s.n. goenka, one of the most well respected teachers of the dhamma since
buddha himself. he even looks like buddha, equal parts smiles and
seriousness. i really enjoyed that every day i would go through hugely
immense experiences that always left me with a few questions, only to
get to watch a video of a man telling me exactly what i went through,
how one can make sense of it, and then give me a glimpse of what was to
come tomorrow. i couldn't help but feel like it was like "mission:
vipassana" and i was training to be a highly-skilled meditation ninja.
"your mission, should you choose to accept it, will be to focus all
awareness on the triangular area above the upper lip and below the nose,
the moustache area, and look for subtle sensations...." i always
accepted, and found myself observing a sense of enjoyment and
satisfaction in doing so.

i see indian men drink water a lot, but they don't swallow. a full cup
will be poured. they take it in in separate gulps, gargle, and spit it
out. rarely do they actually swllow, which is odd, because most of the
time, indians will not put their lips on the the bottle or cup.

a lizard jumped out of a urinal onto my leg. presumably he was munching
on curry leaves. he then proceeded to climb up my leg. i shook him off
and he landed a foot away. staring up into my eyes, he opened his mouth,
stuck his tounge out, and just stared. i courched down and stared back.
we both were motionless for a minute or so. an indian man was watching
this whole thing pan out, and tried to put in to an end by stamping his
foot a few times. neither of us moved.

there was one day i sat for almost 4 hours straight without moving. the
gong went off, everyone left, and i stayed. the gong went off, everyone
returned, and i was still there. i didn't really feel like moving. my
stillness was duly noted in a society of men whose sole purpose was to
rush from one place to another, only to sit down and wait until that
gong went off. hurry up and wait. hurry up and wait. hurry up and wait.
also, given that i am generally regarded as one of the fastest and most
voracious eaters a lot of people know, it should be noted that i am
humbled in the presence of indian men. it's hard to have food focus when
one is awash in the velvety foam of slurps, burps, and lip-smacking. and
why not? the food was delicious, prepared fresh every meal, and very
satisfying.

of course, i became a local celebrity when the noble silence was lifted
on that final day. noble silence not only requires that one doesn't
speak, but one refrains from eye contact or any action that can distract
others from their own stillness. i regarded this rule with great
solemnity and seriousness, and perhaps much more literally than most
everyone else.

"you walked so slow to food. so slow. you are a great mediator."
well, there wasn't really any rush...
"you did not move once. i watch everyone. you only one who did not
move. you were very inspiring to me."
why, thank you, harish, that is very kin--
"why are western white people wanting to be sitting in the sun all the
time? you call it sunbathing."
i, uh.. just wanted to feel the sun on my skin. we were inside so muc-
"very inspiring."
great. thanks.

it seems that everything can be related to something else, and there is
a definite art to observing the rising and passing between each moment.
will i do it again? yes. it was an experience that not only allowed me
to reconnect with an intense love and respect for life, but gave me some
well-needed tools to help me experience it much more deeply.

what's next? right now i am on a long, slow train to new delhi, where i
will connect with another one heading to haridwar. our final destination
is rishikesh. we were supposed to leave yesterday, but ended up missing
our train due to a minor oversight concerning the station of departure.
the resultant efforts to cancel and rebook took us to every major train
station in bombay proper, fully laden with backpacks and bags, on a
three hour whirlwind ride on the wings of indian bureaucracy. it ended
with a lovely conversation with a station agent about shopping at
marshall's and tj maxx in new york. she directed us to a delicious
restaurant for dinner, samrat, which we had planned on going to but
didn't think there would be time.

there is always time. yesterday was one of those days where you emerge
from 10 days of silent meditation into the burlap flow of a mother india
at 6am, ride a bus to catch a train for 4 hours, to head to a friend's
house to repack, to return to the station you arrived in just hours
prior, to miss the train you were meant to be on, to ride more local
trains than you can remember in pursuit of window 27, fabled window 27
for foreign tourists and confirmed trains to faraway places, all the
time submerged in a conversation that slowly changes your life as it
discusses the changes within it, to finally rebook for the train you
were meant to be on in the first place, to see how everything fit
together so nicely, so gently, so perfectly, without judgement, without
observation, with someone you know you know and know she knows you, to
eat a thali in shared gratitude for noble stillness between two lovers
in the midst of an around-the-world revelation, no rush, no extra, to
eventually returning to a big bed with lots of time, lots of silken time
late night, early morning time, to a proposal, to an acceptance, to a
shared silent embrace at 3am on friday the 13th, february, 2009, and
then finally to sleep. another day, another way.

there is always time, and there will be only time to observe the beauty
of being present.

we are engaged.

sure, we'd like some chai. why not?

**
i heard a voice calling from the kitchen down the hall.

--hey. come here--
um. excuse me?
"who are you talking to?"
i'm going to the kitchen. i'l lbe back.
--hey. hey!--
i peered around the corner of the hallway. the room was dark, full of
that linoleum and tiled silence normally reserved for empty kitchens at
2am, save only for the delicate hum of the fridge.
--psst. hey. open the fridge--
who is it?
a yell from down the hall: "who are you talking to?"
there is someone in the fridge. this was said to myself.
--come on, open it.--
ok. and so i did.
--hey. down here. in the crisper.-- i remember the linoleum roll of the
sssss of crisper.
ok, now what?
down the hall: "what are you doing?"
i'm opening the crisper, also said under the breath. a large carrot was
revealed.
--peel me.--
what?
--peel. me.--
sure, why not?
down the hall: "scott, what's up?"
i'm peeling carrots, for chrissakes. i'll be back soon. this was finally
said loud enough to echo back.
"oh. word."
yeah.
--yes.--