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“Bob Dylan is a strange one,”
says the man next to me with a slightly interrogative inflection, while we are both looking at a photo of Dylan taken by Alan Ginsberg at the show of Ginsberg’s photos at the Nat’l Gallery. He is a beefy guy with a crew cut, wearing chinos and a polo shirt. He looks like he’s maybe one of the thousands of police officers from around the country who are here for “Police Week.” Lots of police wives are taking a break from the demos and competitions to look at the impressionist and modern paintings from the Chester Dale Collection. Maybe he just got a little farther west than he had intended.
I smile at him in a way that I hope seems welcoming and open, yet does not actually convey agreement with his statement. I wonder how he felt about the photos ofd the Orlovsky brothers. I am at the exhibit on my lunch hour for the first of what will likely be a number of visits.
The Beats are an important part of my identity. My parents met in Greenwich Village in the late fifties — my mother dabbling as an artist, my father involved in peace activism, the places they frequented also frequented by the beats. My great Aunt H’s favorit book in those days allegedly was “On the Road.”
As a teenager, I relished and romanticized this part of my history. In so doing I read widely not only the writings of the Beats, but also what they were reading, which included the great Hindu and Buddhist texts. To want to discover the illumination of the Beats was to explore Eastern philosophy and mysticism and to meditate and practice yoga.
“No,” I thought to myself, “I’ve never connected the word ‘strange’ to Bob Dylan. Maybe when I get home I”ll play me some before I sit to meditate.”
- Art and Culture | Asana, Pranayama, and Yoga Practice | Community and Family | Food for the Mind (Yoga Philosophy, etc) | Meditation
Thanksgiving Yoga (Web Version of E-Newsletter)
Dear Friends,
I am perhaps a little late in sending out this announcement. The time when I usually would have sent it was smack in the middle of the enmeshed and engulfing energies of the election and Hurricane Sandy. In contemplating what I should write in my invitation to the annual Thanksgiving Day Yoga Fundraiser for Oxfam, I had such an assortment of ideas about gratitude, about abundance, about service, about expressing and receiving thanks, especially when so many are experiencing conflict, hardship, pain, and loss, that I found myself as if I had nothing to say. It occurred to me, among my many musings, that as long as I have something to give, it wouldn’t matter if I have nothing to say.
One of the key reasons I meditate and practice asana is to spend defined periods of time being intentionally one-pointed (ekagrata) in my focus. Out of the apparent maelstrom of experiences, sensations, emotions, and ideas to which we are exposed and in which we can be immersed or even submerged, a point of focus can arise for speaking or acting that frees us from being so caught up in the whirl that we cannot move. Being intimate with and knowing how to get to the space of stillness and focus–and remembrance of what is most important to us, which I think is a critical element of true gratitude–can help us better take care of ourselves and the society and ecosystems with which we are intertwined.
In a light of focused intention to make offering, I invite those of you who will be in town to join me for an all-levels class at Willow Street Yoga, Takoma Park, from 10:00-11:30am on Thanksgiving to celebrate the day and to share our abundance and gratitude with those in need. A tradition for me and for Willow Street and a perfect way to expand the holiday. Friends and family of all levels welcome, including teens, tweens with yoga experience, seniors and everyone else in between. All proceeds go to Oxfam.
To all of you, I wish you much spontaneous experience of gratitude. I think of all of you and send my well wishes, especially those who are facing difficult challenges.
Peace and light,
Elizabeth




