Bird in the Tree

Eating with my hands

2012-01-29T11:28:00.000-08:00

Kali dosa @ SBP

I like eating with my hands. It's one of my favorite things about visiting India, this fork-free (unless you must ask), chop-stick-less way of consuming food. It's efficient, and primal and sensual and nourishing all at once. The rims of stainless steel Indian dinner plates are ideal for providing leverage to fingers and thumbs, bits of chapati or roti. And what would a thali meal served on a banana leaf be if you took a fork to it? Anyhow, I was thinking this, Friday morning, while eating my 'last' breakfast of my trip at the 'Secret Breakfast Place.' I wasn't the only one among the party of 11 who convened for breakfast @ SBP who was to leave Mysore soon, so a high standard of Indian breakfast was on order.
A KPJ student discovered SBP's stellar idli several years back and word-of-mouth has led ever-widening groups of yoga students to the place. This is saying a lot as SBP is an out-of-the way tarp-covered shack on a side street in Lakshmipuram and while not so 'secret' anymore, you still need a friend to take you there the first time.
Friday's party filled the two benches and two stools placed on the sidewalk to serve as a dining room. The seen-it-all proprietor took our orders with ease and quickly handed metal plates our way filled with idli and dosa, beet-root sambar and coconut chutney while a cook filled tins with idli batter and loaded trays in and out of a metal steamer. They served other customers who stood or crouched to eat, and handed some of us seconds. There would be no written bill: when we were finished, he told us how much, err, little, we owed (it would be a little over $5 for nearly a dozen people).
Sixteen hours later, I got back to forks (and Western prices) in the Bangalore airport. I'd taken a taxi up with a friend, who would also be leaving India, albeit due to a family emergency. I was glad to share the four-hour ride: exiting Mysore can feel abrupt and in need of a bit of processing even without adding last-minute changes and familial concern to your schedule.
Post-SBP, the day had been peppered with multiple good-byes made over multiple sweet glasses of chai. So I was plenty awake for the drive.
Given the highway improvements over recent years, the ride is faster and smoother for long stretches of pavement but still has lane-less traffic, bumpy dirt shoulders which are avidly used by cars and moped seeking passage and abrupt speed bumps. It always feels like a miracle to arrive at the Bangalore airport safely. Nonetheless, we did, and on time, for our respective flights.
Likewise, it always feels like a miracle to enter a plane and exit in a different country. My first flight took me to France. I sat by an Indian woman who was on her first trip to the US and I managed to sleep unassisted. At Charles De Gaulle Airport, there was just enough time to grab juice, cappuccino and send an email to home to say I was safe and get to the correct gate. Another 10+ hours and the plane came in for a landing over the San Francisco Bay, which was in ideal, sunlit and sparkly form.
I'm so happy to be here. At the same time I'm going through some India x US culture-shock. How to not compartmentalize my experience? In India, I feel so American. In America, will I be able to hold onto the awareness and sense of community and culture so present to my experience of India? Taking measures toward some sense of integration, we popped by Ashtanga Yoga Berkeley's new-space celebration to deliver a bronze dancing Shiva on the way home from the airport. And I packed a couple large thali plates in my suitcase for use at home. It's not that I really make idli or dosa. Nor do I make that much traditional Indian food in general. This has not stopped me from eating my first home-cooked-meal in the US with my hands. Thank you Mysore. Hello California.

Mysore: On Painted Storks & Packing

2012-01-26T07:06:00.000-08:00

Painted Stork photo CC by Rupal Vaidya

"I'm only halfway home I gotta journey on
to where I'll find the things that I have lost
I've come a long long road still I've got miles to go
I've got a wide wide river to cross"

— Wide River to Cross, by Buddy Miller*

A few yards after embarking on a walk with a friend around Kukkarahalli Lake we saw one of the Painted Storks that live there. The lake is set in the middle of the University of Mysore and is one of the freshest places in the city to walk as well as a great place to see birds—reportedly 180 different kinds have been spotted at the lake. We hardly saw that many, but storks, being quite large, are pretty easy to see. There are 19 species of storks in the world, and while they're abundant here in India, only one species breeds in North America (the endangered Wood Stork) but nowhere near where I live in California. So storks are a treat to these eyes, and I've enjoyed seeing them, large and glider-like, drifting over the city throughout my two-month visit, and again at the lake (evidently there is literally, a town whose name translates as "Village of Storks," off the Mysore Highway outside of Bangalore, where hundreds of Painted Storks live!).
Upon further research, I learned that storks don't migrate and are also mute (!). Clearly, if Ashtangi's were birds they would not be storks! Most of we students have traveled thousands of miles to practice here (to whit, tomorrow night, I'll get on a plane for the first leg of a 10,000+ mile trip home), and while Mysore feels increasingly familiar with each visit, I can never claim to be more than just perching in India.
Likewise, my friend and I certainly made up for the non-migratory storks' lack of dialogue as we circumambulated the lake, going over our recent experiences here. Much of the discussion also was about when or whether or why we'd return (There's often debate over one 'needs' to go to India to really experience Ashtanga and this occurs even among those who come!).
As I mentioned in a previous post, change is what you're ordering up by coming here to practice yoga, whether that refers to your mind, your perspective or your body. I've come to think of asana's newly performed akin to cairns along one's personal path. While I could report back to you what poses I fully realized and those I've not quite reached (or come near, haha) this trip, that's hardly the point. Furthermore, different poses signify different mile-posts to different people. Regardless, the real action happens in between the new or elusive binds and bends and balances, and the point becomes how that translates to leading and experiencing our lives.
There's a pivotal book in my reading life by Salmon Rushdie called 'Imaginary Homelands'. I read it long before I did yoga or could imagine I'd one day go to India, but I always re-remember the book when I'm here. A collection of essays and criticism, Rushdie writes as a citizen of the world about place and writing and politics. A quote from that book, has been branded in my brain since I read it, and resonates more as time goes:
"The migrant suspects reality: having experienced several ways of being, he understands their illusory nature. To see things plainly, you have to cross a frontier."
Rushdie was writing about mass migrations as relating to Brazil, but the quote uncannily sums up much of my experience in both the practice of Mysore-style Ashtanga, and traveling so far to do so. Most of the time one leaves the mat in a very different 'place' than when they arrived. I've never come to India to practice and not experienced a sea change within.
Nonetheless, I've been spending much of this day with the mundane activity of sorting through objects, folding clothes and contemplating my suitcase. I traveled light and didn't acquire many new things. Some things are getting chucked. But this is not to say I don't have some takeaways, mainly a slightly altered view of my less tangible 'things' including my relationship to practice, in general and when in Mysore, which is clearly a homeland of sorts, however temporary (or even imagined). At my real home, I expect I'll see more clearly, as has happened upon every return, how this trip has altered me. And while I don't know when, I expect I will return to Mysore if for nothing else, the unique and usually life-changing perspective it continues to provide.

Mysore: Looking West

2012-01-24T21:33:00.000-08:00

A friend, cognizant that I was leaving town in a few days, asked if "I'd checked out."
"I hope not!" I didn't want my 'last' week in Mysore to be any different than the other weeks. That is, I didn't want to cram in everything I hadn't done yet, go on a last-minute shopping spree or put too much pressure on achieving something more in practice. My intent was to be in the moment.
In truth, it's been impossible to not feel the clock ticking down as I go about arranging a car to the airport, assessing what and how much of my things I'll pack and carry home and deciding if I'll leave a trunk of household items in storage here that will be useful for any future trip(s). The question of when and if hangs in the air. All I know is that even as I'm looking forward to being home with loved ones and playing when I get back, this place, my lifestyle here — sleeping specific times for specific practice times, practicing in the shala, eating South Indian food, the sounds, being surrounded by the community of other semi-migratory students for a period of time— has become a bit ingrained. It's so different than my life in the States, but here it is, equal and different in its own way. So, today, not so surprisingly, I worked through a variety of feelings in practice ("Too much emotion," Sharath would say), the irony after two months here being not feeling so yogic! But then that's why they call it practice! Every day it's a new day with its own unique rasa.
After I walked down to Gokul Chats to have my tea and dosa outside, in relative quiet, and wrote a bit before turning on my Kindle (can I reiterate how GREAT a Kindle is for this kind of travel?) and the day really got going. Truth be told, I haven't been studying up on The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali (recommended though!) or the Gita but instead have been loving reading the Keith Richards book Life. It's hilarious. A tale of adventure, the Blues, rock and roll, perseverance ...and ultimately following one's one unique and often irrational bliss. Yeah.

Mysore: Enter the dragon

2012-01-23T00:30:00.000-08:00

India is big on holidays. Even Christmas gets a nod between all the Hindu celebrations. But signs of Chinese New Year were scarce to my eye. Nonetheless, the Mysore Ashtanga community counted among it enough people used to celebrating the end of the winter season on the Chinese calendar, and they weren't about to let the New, Year of the Dragon, go unobserved. Chinese New Year's Eve, I soon learned, is traditionally a time of families gathering to feast. So a large contingent of the Mysore Ashtanga tribe were orchestrated by one of its consummate hostesses in gathering together the ingredients for a traditional Year of the Dragon shindig, conveniently, on the eve of our Moon Day holiday. I shopped for lanterns (albeit more Indian than Chinese) and red and gold decorations; another student found a large block of fireworks while another group of folks exercised their culinary talents.
One of them, Sam, a professional pastry chef when he's not busy traveling the world or studying yoga in Mysore, was enlisted to bring the desserts. I'd asked Sam for some professional advise on pies and tarts when I was first clued into his skills at one of his periodic bake sales here. Given the task of baking for the New Year's party, I subsequently spent Sunday afternoon as his apprentice making Chinese almond cookies. Plus, he gave me a bonus lesson in frangipane. By default, I picked up some tips on measuring by weight rather than cups and teaspoons.
"This is simple," Sam said as he placed ingredients into the wet-dry blender. "Only four ingredients, and everything is 100 grams." Eggs are about 50 grams each, so that's two," he said, placing the eggs aside a moment to expertly grind 100 grams of almonds. A moment later, he whirred the flour, sugar, almonds and eggs together together and, voila, we had frangipane cream. A pate brisee was already chilling in the refrigerator.
Another benefit of spending time with the other yoga students who find their way to Mysore is discovering the high level of talent lurking behind the asana practice. What's wonderful is how people may scale down their lives as chefs, dancers, filmmakers, art directors and musicians to be here for a few months, but still dazzle everyone else when they share those talents.
As such, Sam wasn't planning to do any baking in India. But after helping with a bake-sale fundraiser for Odanadi, and realizing he could buy a small convection oven for his kitchen, his bake sales, a cut far above regular bake sale quality, became a semi-regular event. Now he has a hard time keeping his schedule open as other yogis request birthday cakes, raw pies and spreads for special occasions. People he hasn't met stop him to ask him whether he can make him something. He's become expert on finding hard-to-find ingredients in Mysore as well as getting the most out of a small kitchen.
While the pate brisee baked, we walked down to three different fruit stands searching for pears to complete a frangipane tart (there are no pears, but we find some nice Gala apples). Back in the kitchen, we pressed almonds into cookie dough while the tart baked.

Later, at the roof-top party, the almond cookies were served (and consumed quite quickly) alongside a special "prosperity toss' salad made by two other talented yogini's. After everyone read their Chinese Horoscopes for the year and munched through a bountiful spread of more salads, soups, momos and home-made sushi, we clambered up to the roof for a fireworks display that was as beautiful as it was scary. Fireworks in India are no joke! The bigger louder and brighter the better — and seemingly anyone can buy a huge display. Let's just say the Dragon seriously roared. Happy New Year!

Mysore: Magic in movies

2012-01-21T22:20:00.000-08:00

Today in led class I rolled backward for chakrasana and half grabbed the foot of Sharath. He was standing behind my mat for a brief moment as he circulated the room counting us through primary series. It took me a couple years to go up to Guruji, aka K. Pattahbi Jois, and convey my appreciation and deference to him by bowing and touching his feet. I hadn't thought to do this with Sharath yet, but my inadvertent chakrasana grab got me thinking about how I was inching down that road. Clearly, by coming to Mysore to practice with him yet again, I've come to view him as a major teacher, but the true nature of surrender is even deeper than that. I got a hint of it when I sought him out last week to ask a question and instantly had some of my confusion dispelled.
Later today, at the 10am conference, which featured a viewing of the new documentary 'Mysore Magic,' created and directed by Certified Ashtanga teacher Alex Medin and a small crew of filmmakers during the first couple of weeks of the New Year, Sharath talked at length about parampara. It's a major reason why learning Ashtanga at the source is as special as it is: the importance of lineage cannot be overemphasized in an age that has many, many versions of yoga being propagated. Likewise, a guru who calls himself a guru can't really be a guru! 'Only the student can call a teacher his guru,' Sharath emphasized. And it is only by surrendering to the guru that one can truly glean the knowledge he (or she) has to offer. This is a very personal choice. The new documentary, a lovely portrait of the Ashtanga Yoga Community today, features many students talking about what has led them to here to practice as well as interviews with Sharath. Take a look:

Mysore: Chocolate & charity

2012-01-19T19:09:00.000-08:00

I live down the street from "The Chocolate Man" aka "The Chocolate Stand" or 'Trupti's," a much-loved and very packed little storefront whose proprietor, wife, son and daughter-in-law roast coffee, special-order pasta, organic jam and soy milk for Western tastes and have a little business making their own chocolate. The 40-80 rupee bars, coming in flavors such as chocolate-cardamom, dark chocolate almond and chocolate coffee, stave off many chocolate Jones. Otherwise, the chocolate in India isn't quite up to US or European standards (albeit Cadbury has a large presence here) and tends to look but not taste that chocolaty. That isn't to say Indians don't love their sweets! Sugar dominates cups of chai and coffee and is whipped into plenty of ghee-heavy local delicacies. The price paid is a high rate of diabetes (India leads the world in number of people with diabetes) and tooth decay.

Most likely due to my mom diligently giving us fluoride as children, I've made it through my life thus far without getting a cavity. When I went to the dentist here they reminded me to rinse, but opined I didn't need a cleaning 'unless you insist.'
This week I've been back at the dentist, albeit helping take some of the children from Operation Shanti who need dental care to their appointments. These children spent much of their young lives on the street before coming to Karunya Mane, OS's shelter for children in need, and the concept of a toothbrush is fairly recent to their thinking. As such, many have cavities already— only one girl of the few I took to the dentist Wednesday didn't need a filling. Instead, she received a cleaning and a good talking to about brushing up and down.
"They are very cooperative," the dentist noted as the last one got up from the chair.
And they were! As well as surprisingly joyful and easy with themselves. They loaded into the rickshaw with me, holding on tight as we bumped along, and stuck their noses to the wind like dogs in a convertible, inviting the sounds and the views of the fields and roadside sheds we passed selling meals and puffed treats and chai. I marveled at how wise and wonderfully in the moment and far beyond their years they seemed. They took their turns in the dentist chair without whimpering at the drill, shrugged off their procedures like it was no big deal, and delighted in my iPhone photo album as we waited in the lobby.
"Friend?" they asked, pointing to photos of my loved ones in the states. "Friend," I said. Every time a photo of a friend's child came up they jumped, cheered, clapped and smiled.
Back home at KM, they clambered out of the rickshaw, smiled and waved to me, and were off to their beds without a backward glance.

If you'd like to volunteer with Operation Shanti, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, or donate to the organization, please go to http://www.operation-shanti.org for more information

Mysore: Change, in rupees & otherwise

2012-01-18T03:04:00.000-08:00

When it comes to making small change, a standard practice of local businesses around Gokulam is changing up what kind of change you'll get back. Sometimes you get a little paper voucher with a stamp and the number of credit you can use on your next visit. Sometimes you are handed a few pieces of candy or gum with a smile. Even if you get your exact change back in rupees, it might be the same amount in the form of a coin, several coins or a paper bill. Sometimes, you don't get any change 'due' unless you ask.
One thing that is constant about coming to Mysore, in general, whether you consciously know it or not, is that you are asking for change. If you practice here, transformation will definitely occur, inside, and sometimes, outside. And nothing is ever the same twice be it experience of asana, the hour, day or week. 'First-timers' and old-guard Mysorians learn this within a week of arrival and again each time they come. When I landed nearly 7 weeks ago, my first thought was 'oh, it's like I never left'. But even as everything I was doing—the routine of registering at the shala, start times, coconut trucks, and chai stands, the poses in the Ashtanga series themselves— was now familiar, I was a slightly different person at a different point in time, with a different set of conscious and unconscious expectations of myself, my practice and this place, in a city that itself had changed in the 9 months I'd been away.
All around, new businesses (including mega-malls) had sprung up, foreign cars were more common and the price of coconuts and chai had risen several rupees. I unpacked a trunk of items stored from last year while buying new items for a basically unfurnished rental. A glorious week and half of blissful practice (so good to be back! how deep I can breath! how much deeper I can bend here!) was followed by a week when my knee all but completely went out. Suddenly I had to modify 'basic' postures I've done for years while simultaneously being given new poses to learn, my conditioned brain both fighting the contradictions and welcoming them at the same time.
The experience on the mat mirrored by my life. One week, I waved goodbye to a set of house-mates, a day later, welcomed a new one. And of course, around me, the hundreds of other students were dealing with their own sets of circumstances or becoming part of one another's circumstances. When it all got a bit noisy, I checked out for a week of Panchakarma, had a week of clarity ... followed by a week of lethargy and more internal questioning. Even playing it all a bit closer to home instead of taking classes or lessons or going to every social activity there was, it's been intense. Confusion has been mixed with curiosity, delight at the new mixed with a sense of missing.
One thing that is constant about Ashtanga as taught here, as that you are doing one or two of one of the series of asanas. Each series is specific. There is no variation in sequence unless you have unique circumstances — acute illness, injury or pregnancy for example. And if you've signed on, you know that the real fruit of the practice comes from regular practice. It's a system and a science. But there is an infinite variety of relationships people have to the series they are practicing and to the asanas within those series,' and the teacher.
This go, amid the ups and downs of my practice, I often felt stuck amid all the movement. So earlier this week I did what I pretty much never do, and went and talked to my teacher, trying to figure out how to pack all my questioning into a question one might answer. Uncertain, knowing on one level the answer I'd get (do your practice), but wanting to ask instead of assume, I queued up to have a minute or two with Sharath.
Sure enough, the answer I got, indeed a version of the 'standard' do your practice, managed to combine exact and inexact change. That is, it was slightly unique enough to feel personal and reverberate into considerations about every aspect of my life, not just asana, be consistent with all of I've learned from practice and shed new light on it.
"Ah, yes," another practitioner opined "you can find yourself digesting what he says for a few weeks." Likewise, there were a lot of lessons to be had in the simple act of asking. Change, I got some...and I likely have more coming. ...

On the listening front, it's no wonder one of my favorite tunes of the moment is the new single by Kathleen Edwards:

Mysore: Driver 8 Redux

2012-01-17T06:25:00.000-08:00

"The walls are built up, stone by stone,
The fields divided one by one
And the train conductor says
"Take a break Driver 8, Driver 8 take a break
We've been on this shift too long"
And the train conductor says
"Take a break Driver 8, Driver 8 take a break
We can reach our destination, but we're still a ways away" — Driver 8 (Berry/Buck/Mills/Stipe)

Out of the blue, I started humming this old R.E.M tune today. That's the power of a song for you, showing up in places (such as walking a dusty road in India) you'd never think when you first heard it, 25 years ago, when Michael Stipe had hair, to give you a little oomph. Jeepers, the stuff that comes up here. But if practicing yoga in Mysore isn't performing tapas —"focused effort leading towards bodily purification and spiritual enlightenment" — I'm not sure what is. Sure enough, it's been an up and down few days on this end, the practice cooking me, or rather cooking things out of me, in unexpected ways. As it should. I've been thinking about those bull runners I saw Sunday for inspiration. The farmers who ran with their bulls through the fire were barefoot, afterall. Barefoot! Nonetheless, I'm feeling a bit more like Driver 8, a little weary, a little far from from a longed for Santosha-like destination.
Speaking of drivers, when I was walking into the bustling Devaraja Market a few days ago I was surprised to hear my name called out. I turned to see Raju, a rickshaw driver who delivered me to the train station on my first visit to Mysore in 2004. I saw him on subsequent trips, catching up about his children and family, and relying on him to get around town, but was mystified, and concerned, not to see him this go. As it turned out, he has been driving downtown now, rather than Gokulam, the rickshaw scene around the yoga shala a little too competitive (and cut-throat when it comes to inflating fares for we Western types). That said, he's my likely ride for the remainder of the trip. Raju is a good egg.
Speaking of eggs, or good things just-hatched, check out this vintage R.E.M. footage.

Mysore: Rangolis & Running Bulls

2012-01-15T15:54:00.000-08:00

During Pongal, a festival of harvest celebrated over four days in January in conjunction with the solar calendar, cows across India are washed and painted, decorative chalk patterns painted in every driveway and families gathered to feast on seasonal dishes. Pujas are offered, animals blessed, and neighbors visited. "It's like Thanksgiving," Anu, the much-love proprietress of a popular cafe in Gokulam, explained, 'it's about being grateful and sharing."
Anu was fairly spontaneously leading a group of Westerners to a small town, Vaddhara Hally, about 40 minutes drive from Mysore. While the city was full of painted cows and rangolis, we'd be able to see the most tradition Pongal celebrations in the small villages whose residents are more closely connected to agriculture. A day earlier she had met a village leader, a colleague of one of her friends who worked in Mysore, who welcomed us to join his village's celebration.
The festival kicks off the beginning of Uttarayana, when the sun moves northward for an auspicious six month period, and the traditional farming season comes to a close. As such, prayers are offered to the crops, and the third day of celebration, Manji Pongal, is dedicated giving thanks in particular to the cows and buffaloes who help tend them. Included on this day is 'Manji Virattu,' the tradition of washing and decorating the bulls then leading them to jump over fire. This Indian-style 'running of the bulls' was what we were driving to Vaddhara Hally to see. But we got much more than that.

While we weren't far from Mysore, Vaddhara Hally had perhaps never been set upon by 18 Westerners like this. As our cars drove into the town center where the cows were being readied seemingly every resident came out to look at us. They were the complete opposite of jaded. That is, we were immediately a source of interest, led through the rows of houses (made from stone and mud much like adobes of the Southwest) and followed closely by children. As word spread, more people came out of their homes. A woman asked us to come in and we were given a tour of a clean and modest home where one room was given over to a sheep, and another room had a hole in its stone floor where seeds and masalas were ground.
We were then taken to the village leader's home where we filled the living room and his wife served us lemonade, cookies, bananas and the small packets of a traditional mix of sweets, seeds and roasted legumes. Outside, a dozen children peered through the door waving. While seconds earlier, we were strangers, now we were honored guests.
By the time we finished our refreshments, the cows were ready. Back at the village center, drums were sounding. A holy man performed pujas, blessing the cows, the jumpers, and us with flame and a sprinkling of water. Then we followed with most of the villagers as the herd of cows were paraded to the edge of town and the beginning of the fields. A fire of shrub and palm was lit in the road and fanned with more palm fronds. As the villagers cheered, the men began to run over the fire with their cows. Most were barefoot.
Even though we expected to see this, it was truly an amazing spectacle. By the time the last cow had jumped (a few balked inconsolably at the fire's edge), the sun had set. A girl gave us ashes from the fire so as to smudge our foreheads, another blessing. Then we and the rest of the villagers walked back and to many thank yous and hellos and goodbyes were waved back to Mysore.

Mysore: Hoots, honks & hollers

2012-01-13T18:33:00.000-08:00

It is hard to imagine the number of tracks a recording engineer would need if he or she were to try to replicate the sound of India in the studio, layer by layer. My experience of the aural landscape in India is like none other, an incrementally building multi-part orchestra of human, avian, animalian, mechanical and meteorological hoots, honks, scrapes and blares that builds to a sometimes intolerable thickness. I’m especially struck by this on rare mornings when I sleep in (rarely past 7am so as not to disrupt the pattern of early morning rising necessitated by the practice schedule), and can sit and listen a while before entering the landscape with my own set of parts. Today, Saturday, the first sound to my ear is that of a maid sweeping the walkway, a distinctive sound in of itself, as here the brooms are made of sticks that scrape the pavement in a way that is both sharp and oftentimes wet sounding. Underneath that layer is the low moan of wailing coming from the Muslim temple. There are at least three different birds calling: one crow, something like a dove and a small songbird. Two ubiquitous sounds — a moped's whine and a gate opening and closing — arriving solo this early in the day, sound almost forlorn, as they will be joined by a larger chorus of gates scraping and scooters beeping as the day busies. More doors closing by the neighbors upstairs, a rickshaw's engine clank and clatter, and a flute's call, recorded or being played by an early morning rehearsal, float down the street. The voice of a radio announcer speaking Hindi is a distant murmur. Then, the downstairs neighbor dog begins to bark and growl to be let out, and more gates open and close as people up and down the street begin to rise and go about. Somewhere else, water is at first run from a tap, then poured onto the ground. More birds, flying overhead, chirp and call. In the evening, the sound of parrots will become more frequent. Mid- to late-afternoon, there's a largish, brown striped bird that half hoots, half coos in the high branches of the trees.

Listening as I am now, the reason much of Indian music is written to be played at certain times of day, each raga having a distinctive rasa that suits or emulates the color and mood of the hour, makes sense anew. The morning here is so the morning.

Second by second, the pace quickens. One of the Western-model cars, a more prevalent sight this year, whirs a little too quickly down the narrow street, which doesn't comfortably accommodate the vehicle's size and speed. Footsteps of a person walking hurriedly, the heavy hoof falls of a cow ambling down to the house whose owners will let it in the gate to graze on their greenery, and a waking person's cough, pipe in. In an hour or two, the street vendors, Mysore equivalents of door-to-door salesman, will push carts full of vegetables, plastic-wares or fruit, calling out the name of their wares. There is no need to knock on the door. If someone wants to make a purchase, doors are opened to the caller and negotiations made over the front gate. I walked past one of the vendors yesterday, pre-sale and in full advertising mode, and was struck at how deep and rich a voice he had from his repeated calling. I imagined his singing voice would be pleasant...provided he chose a new song.

I should add that I'm staying in a relatively quiet and upscale neighborhood. My doors and windows are secure, the walls of the house cement. I don't know if anyone ever thought to mute all the sounds here, volume seeming more a matter of tolerance and might (if you can't hear, turn it up seems to be the approach, especially to televisions, another sound that's starts streaming from many households in the evening).

Out on the main streets, the sound intensifies, with buses, horns, people walking, talking, being. On 'thin-skinned days,' as I call them, when practice has felt taxing or opened me up past comfort, it's wise for me not to venture that far out. Downtown, every sound is turned up, in double-time and mult-part. Yesterday, drinking chai with a friend before a kirtan which would waft a layer of chanting voices over the neighborhood, a large truck drove by only to have a tire blow out in a loud punctuating pop. Another chorus of beeps and honks went up from passing traffic, along with a crowd of voices closing in on the truck to vociferously consult and opine.

It is rarely if every silent here, though there are ports of calm. Waking in the deep of night, sounds are fewer and further between. Wind in the trees punctuated by the occasional sound of a strange, not quite identifiable animals—perhaps it's sparring feral pigs, or a street dog fighting a small animal, or cats in heat? I don't really want to know.

The yoga shala is a relative oasis, full of its own unique acoustic blend of breathing, the occasional murmur of the teacher's voice when addressing students, sounds from outside getting in to provide context: dogs fighting, coconuts being split, children on their way to school, and the steady rhythm of rickshaws coming and going.

It has been less than an hour since I started this post, and the first street vendor is already walking through the neighborhood calling. Far away, a vehicle, or maybe a train is blowing its horn in a low constant. Another car or truck is backing up, emitting a tinny musical recording as warning. The day is very much on its way.

Mysore: Logistics

2012-01-11T03:16:00.000-08:00

It's more crowded here than when I arrived. That is today, the first wave of students started at 4:30am and the last student left the studio at 12:15. I arrive 20 minutes before my scheduled time, the second shift of students, and the foyer is packed with people waiting their turn. Chanting classes are pushed back 15 minutes to an hour pending how the student influx goes. No one I know has been granted an extension to stay longer than the study period for which they signed on. The housing crunch remains just that. A crunch. I mention all this because some days, beyond yoga practice, I wonder where the time has gone, then realize much of the day was taken up with logistics and as many of those have been housing related. At least this week, with some imminent housemate changeover in the works, my other self-imposed writing and rehearsal practices have been squoze a bit. Added to the standard logistical laundry list of getting water, figuring out the post-office (international packages are sewn together before posting which requires another step in than process), and a making a dentist appointment, has been meeting potential roommates or giving someone else a number to a friend of a friend who might have a room to spare for a couple of days if not two months. And then it has not been uncommon for people to knock on my door unexpectedly, looking for a room. Many people are leaving. Many people are coming.

It's easier and more comfortable than ever to be a yogi in India—the path of other yogis who have come before with their requests for filtered water, WiFi and Western style food has become smooth — provided you can find a place to stay. I suppose it wouldn't be India without the contradiction.
Regarding the dentist, there's surprisingly good and inexpensive dental care here (800RS for a teeth cleaning, walk-in appointments possible). In fact, I've met people who've extended trips specifically to get their teeth fixed. (Likewise, if you're injured, it's relatively easy to get an MRI and complete results within the day.) The dentist office is in a building that also does a lot of cosmetic procedures, another irony, this luxury in the face of the poverty 10 yards down the road.

Mysore: Bees & Bananas, Wreckage & Light

2012-01-07T22:42:00.000-08:00

Led class at 4:30 a.m. on Fridays and Sundays always seems a bit surreal. It's been too crowded for comfort for one, and there's already something quirky about waiting before dawn with 70+ other people to go through a gate and vie for a spot to practice. I'm never too excited about this part of the week. But because it's so early, it's always over before I've fully woken up, the yoga very much working on a subconscious level. Some days, I go home, get back in bed, and when I start the day again, I wonder if I dreamt it all.
Two hours after practice, I go out for chai and to stock up on fruit for the next couple of days. There are seemingly infinite varieties of bananas here (I read that India grows 16.8 million metric tonnes of bananas though few of those are exported). And every time I go to the fruit stand, the selections is different: some days there are red bananas, other days there are Kerala bananas, there are fingerling bananas and green bananas. Sometimes, large plantains. More often than not, irregardless of variety, they are bruised and blackened on the outside. But they always taste sweet.
A recent article in the New York Times "How Yoga Can Wreck Your Body" has been circulating widely among yoga students. A fairly lengthy article regarding how serious injury can occur while doing yoga, it brings up many valid points about practice, or rather how practicing incorrectly or when driven by ego can end you up in the hospital...but it misses a whole other side of what practice is, how many varieties of yoga there are (and what passes as 'yoga' to some), doesn't draw on a number of potentially amazing sources nor discuss how teaching standards are uneven to put it mildly. The byline points out that the article is adapted from a soon to be released book, “The Science of Yoga: The Risks and Rewards,” by William J. Broad, which I hope will go into more detail about the various forms of yoga, the importance of tradition, lineage and highly skilled AND experienced teachers ('yoga teacher' comes off as a blanket term here), as well as how we humans are rarely different than all those bananas at the fruit stand: that is, infinitely varied, full of sweet promise but more often showing scars from the journey of what it took to mature. Likewise, the article points out how yoga's popularity is soaring, but it doesn't address exactly why that might be.
There are so many intangibles about why many of us are here practicing Ashtanga in Mysore. Back home in the US, I describe my connection to Mysore like an infection. Practice with teachers who came here long before me and my own repeated trips have inoculated me somehow, so that I feel like a bird who suddenly feels the need to take wing and migrate, some ineffable combination of light, constellations and barometric pressure signalling GO! That is, a craving for this place exists in me so strong, it overrides my doubts and personal attachments and I pick up and get here when I can. And even despite my own persistent resistance to change and sometimes grudging approach to aspects of practice such as getting up early for led classes, I somehow still get to them on my volition, a larger part of me knowing the benefits outweigh the cranky side of my monkey mind.
"Somehow you are connected to this. That’s what brought you here. There was something you felt – that this is correct, that this is where you need to get connected...," Sharath opined when a student questioned who chooses whom in the yoga-student equation. "The Bhagavad Gita says that yoga is only possible if you were connected in your previous life. Something which has attracted you has brought you here."
The pull to yoga does feel something on that order, beyond me and my combination of earthly desires and aversions.
On Friday, more than a dozen of us practiced in the changing room as the main studio simply couldn't contain everyone. A bee had somehow become trapped in the room and it repeatedly flew up against the fluorescent light. Between the breathing and bending and sweating and sound of Sharath counting down and naming postures to an exacting vinyasa, the bee insistently buzzed and bashed. And I thought, I haven't been so different that that bee at times, throwing myself, my karma, my attitudes against the light. I've never been particularly graceful— I've often viewed the light as an escape route rather than a smooth, rolling walkway —and I've certainly practiced incorrectly. At times I've felt wrecked, but this has been mainly due to my own misguidance rather than the yoga itself.
"Yoga isn't crazy," noted Sharath in today's conference, "People make yoga crazy."

Mysore: Foodies— From Gobi to Gyozas

2012-01-06T15:22:00.000-08:00

What happens once you've been here more than three weeks, is you subtly switch from Mysore-tourist to Mysore resident. Granted yes, this is temporary for most students enrolled at AYI, but many people, minimally, stay on 6 months of each year, and a handful really call it home (albeit as much as one can without official residency). Along with this transition—if you haven't already done it—is an emphasis on home-cooked meals rather than breakfasts and lunches at the several cafes that have sprung up over the years specifically to cater to Western tastes. Given the cosmopolitan nature of the yoga crowd, as well as an acute concern with what one puts in ones body to facilitate practice, there are plenty of options for truly delicious home-prepared meals. While some friends spend their time mastering the local cuisine by taking South Indian cooking lessons, others have simply packed their suitcases with enough condiments from home to replicate meals from their native countries. Seasoned visitors leave room in the luggage for pantry staples like quinoa, nori, tamari and raw cacao that are a little harder to find here (I opted to bring a couple large bottles of Vitamineral Green & Earth to supplement my now-habitual coconut banana smoothies). Potlucks here are a real and welcome treat, as are cuisine-specific dinner parties. Recent and ongoing highlights have included a New Moon Gyoza party, Dosas & Mimosa brunch, a pasta feast and a visiting pastry chef's periodic bake sales including raw and vegan treats featuring imported chocolate and gold leaf. Yum!

Mysore: Peacocks & peahens, herons & frogs

2012-01-03T19:51:00.000-08:00

Mayurasana's namesake

"In yoga you should always have the attitude that you don’t know anything – then you can learn many things. Yoga is a lifelong study until we die – we are always learning new things." — Sharath Rangaswamy

The Mysore room in Mysore is, literally, full of the world's most advanced ashtanga yogis. I'm reminded of when I used to bike race in Boulder, Co. I was on an amateur team: that is, we weren't making full livings as athletes but we had sponsors that helped us with nutrition bars, bike gear and bodywork, we sometimes won prizes and we definitely rode the same roads as (and sometimes with) Olympic team members and racers who'd turned pro. More importantly, we all shared a love of the sport.
The discipline, the energy and the injuries I experienced cycling led me figuratively and literally to yoga. I think many people who participate in sports share a questing nature, and that questing and pushing and over-reaching in cycling eventually found me in a yoga studio where I was struck by how the practice also harnessed the body, but took it for a spiritual ride.
My first few years of yoga practice were about undoing so much of the hardness, and ego, that came with pursuing a competitive sport. Many years later, I realize again and again that practicing yoga is still, and always will be, about dismantling past conditioning. I'm not a beginner anymore...and I'm always a beginner.
In yoga, our teachers tell us, this is a good thing. Sharath repeatedly reminds us in conferences that we (he includes himself) are all students, that if you're practicing yoga as a teacher, you aren't practicing yoga, and that doing more advanced poses does not mean you have a better understanding of yoga.
Here, relative newcomers to the practice (though it's not unheard of, there are very few first-time yogis in Mysore) are few and far between. Most people who get here have at least been introduced to Mysore-style yoga back home, and a larger percentage of people practicing here this season are flat-out advanced: most of the way through Intermediate Series or starting Third Series, experienced and famous teachers. A handful of the elite elite practice third and are learning fourth series'.
Today I practiced between a person doing half-primary and a Certified teacher learning fourth. As I'm working on the first parts of Second, it was both an apt placement and sampling of the spectrum of practitioners here as well as an example of how we're all practicing yoga, whatever it looks like. The experience is at once inspiring and humbling. We all get the benefits of practicing in an intensely energetic room, get first-hand views of what's possible...and at the same time get to fully realize where we're at with ourselves now.

New Year's Panchakarma

2011-12-30T05:26:00.000-08:00

Ghee, aka clarified butter, elixir of the gods

According to to Patanjali (whose yoga sutras are key tenets of the practice), Sharath noted, there are two different kinds of diseases, those that can be cured by Yoga and those diseases that can be cured by Ayurveda. Ayurveda, the traditional medicine native to India, has preventative as well as curative value. It's also hard to ignore while visiting the subcontinent.
Several friends gave glowing reviews about their experiences doing Panchakarma at Dixit Clinic here in Mysore. Curious, I signed on for the 7-day cleansing treatment based on Ayurveda to ring out 2011 and in 2012.
Panchakarma (Sanskrit for '5 actions') is basically a de-tox program, Indian style, relying on several Ayurvedic therapies, including oleation, massage, steaming and purging (there's more invasive treatment available pending your condition. I asked the doctor to kindly not make me throw up and was grateful that wouldn't be needed). But this has meant no caffeine and a lot of medicated ghee (clarified butter).
For nearly every day of this last week of the year, I've been taken a rickshaw post-yoga practice to the clinic for ghee drinking, lunch and treatments (my regime augmented by some special treatments for my knees).
Fun, eh?

Despite having to down an intimidatingly large dose of ghee yesterday and the prospect of staying quiet on New Year's Eve, I've enjoyed the experience thus far.

Lord Dhanvantari, the physician of the gods

In addition to the the health benefits, it's provided a mini-retreat to rest, review and look ahead to the new year. Here's to clarity in 2012, in butter and otherwise!

Lessons from a Sun Gazer

2011-12-26T09:18:00.000-08:00

"Every positive change--every jump to a higher level of energy and awareness--involves a rite of passage. Each time to ascend to a higher rung on the ladder of personal evolution, we must go through a period of discomfort, of initiation. I have never found an exception."

- Dan Millman, author, "Way of the Peaceful Warrior" (quote nabbed this from The Daily Love's daily curation)

My neighbor here in Mysore gazes at the sun every day. I see standing him out on his terrace, wrapped in a shawl, pacing a bit and staring east. He's in his 60s, or 7os, it's hard to tell, and is from this city ('of course,' he says when I ask him). He's out there greeting the day even when it's chilly and the sky is more gray than clear. I always feel cheered when I see him up and about watching the sun.

It hasn't been a comfortable visit here in many ways, which has come as a surprise as it's not my first stint in Mysore. But nagging knee pain has slowed up the process of smoothing out and strengthening of my practice that I've experienced (and come to expect) on other trips....I've got to look at a whole lot of self-judgement and negativity I didn't know was lurking so close to the surface. It's also been, simply, a pain, and I've questioned just what am I doing here.
My teacher reminded we students recently that a lot of the pain [that comes up in yoga practice] is from previous injury or activities. Yoga just reveals them. Oh yea, my knees suddenly remember bike racing and down climbing mountains a little too well. Still, it took about a week and a half of disappointment about having to modify poses and vacillating between going home early to realize the practice was working on me. It clearly has become not so much about what rather than how. So even though I've wanted to stop, and it isn't all that pretty, I haven't.
Sharath also pointed out in a recent conference that “Sukha/dukha happiness and sorrow is part of our life. How we can handle these things is very important."
Clearly griping doesn't help. Getting up and doing what one can — celebrating the sun for instance — just might.

Happy Holidays

2011-12-23T10:30:00.000-08:00

Wishing you much love, peace and joy for your holiday season

Thanks so much for supporting my musical endeavors and reading the blog this past year. Here's to more music, good cheer and community in 2012.

Love, Deborah

Mysore: Bangles, bindis, bling

2011-12-17T19:49:00.000-08:00

Another of the contradictions of India is how so much wealth and poverty dust and ...so much bling, can co-exist. Beggars with monkeys on their shoulders lead painted oxen on rope and try to block your way until you give them a rupee on a street that is lined with brand-new multi-story houses. American and Japan made cars attempt to pass cyclists and hand-drawn carts on narrow streets. Even if you're floors are marble, scrubbing one's feet clean is a recommended daily, if not twice-daily, practice.
As a tourist, really, wielding a dollar, I'm automatically a privileged class. A bumpy dusty rickshaw ride brought me near city center and a luxe store full of pashmina, silk, weaves and wall hangings, Kashmir carpets, and silver jewelry. Salesmen served me cinnamon tea in a china cup while I looked a wool and silk pashmina in a rainbow of colors, prints and embroider. Mysore is known for its silk, the fabric made in the factory here according to high standards and turned into colorful sarees and shawls. The selection is amazing.
"All colors," the clerk tells me, pulling out handfuls of carefully folded fabric and unfurling it before me. The drill isn't new to me: the tea, the fabric, the bargaining I remember from other visits— but the selection still boggles. A half hour later, arrangements are made to mail my purchases home.

More tea is offered but I'm on a mission for gifts for the children of Operation Shanti as well as friends and family, and bangles top the list for the girls. Bangles (the colorful bracelets not the band) are hugely popular here and the range of colors, sizes and sparkles matches that of the silk. Stores selling bangles and bindis are as common as tea stalls. Ten bangles per wrist, pashmina over the shoulder, and a bindi on the forehead and you're ready to go. Bling!

Buckling knees & prayer beads

2011-12-14T22:16:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning, my knee all but went completely out. Ashtanga practice and injury is not a new topic. I've been trying to adjust my practice all week to accommodate some warning twinges, but this was something else — I had to modify a lot of my practice (padmasana all but went out the window), in tears, nearly ready to change my airplane ticket home. The day didn't get that much brighter. After practice, as I limped around, I heard of a friend's cancer diagnosis, the death of another friend's father, and another friend's trip to the hospital. Everything and everyone is, and very much felt, fragile, and my knee wasn't letting me forget it.
I remembered something I read in the book of interviews with advanced students of Sri Pattahbi Jois in the book Guruji. Pain is nothing but acute awareness, one of the interviewees opined. Awareness is better than ignorance, but I still went to sleep a little disconsolate, feeling exceedingly far from loved ones. I wondered if I'd even make it to practice. You really appreciate your practice — and miss it sorely — when you've traveled around the world for it.

Most days, before dawn, a sound of wailing can be heard from one of the local mosques, even though it's more than a mile away from where I'm staying. In other homes all over the city, Indian perform japa, the meditative repeat of mantra. Before yoga practice I chant the lotus sutra before walking down to the studio. All of these are different forms of prayers of transformation, and at least in the case of the latter, from suffering to happiness.
So this morning, I'm up, I hear the wailing, and I say my own prayers for myself and my friends. I rubbed my knee and drank my tea, wondering what practice was going to be like, and walked gingerly to the shala.
Inside, I go very slowly, I pay attention to what I'm doing to my knee in every pose. I take my time bending ... and you know what? There's a little pain, but I actually can tell what I've been doing wrong. I actually enjoy my practice that much more. I realize how much is in it, even if I'm not doing intermediate series. How amazing to even do standing poses! All sort of new found appreciation bubbles up and I think, oh, this is part of the breakthrough, the transformation, I'm after here.

Mysore: Pesticide watch

2011-12-13T17:47:00.000-08:00

One of the charms of temporary Indian living is the vendors who stroll through neighborhood streets selling fruit, vegetables, housewares, you name it. Their presence is preceded by a vocal call of what they're selling, mostly indecipherable to my ear. But it's fun (and to me, novel) to walk out my door to see what's on sale. And often it's a bunch of vegetables whose names I've yet to learn. But yesterday, I rounded the corner for home and a man held out a handful of red grapes in one hand a plastic box of ...strawberries in the other. I blinked. Was I back at home in California? (CA grows 90% of strawberries grown in the US and I was born in Watsonville where a huge percentage of that 90% is grown).
"Where are they grown?" I asked the vendor, surprised.
"Bangalore," he said.
Evidently, strawberries can be grown nearly anywhere in the world.
But where they organic? He shrugged.
I didn't buy any strawberries in India, and I likely won't. There are two things I avoid as much as I consciously can in the US that I can't get away from here: plastic and pesticides. There's no shortage of produce being sold in Mysore, recognizable to my eye (cauliflower, carrots, potatoes) and some fairly unique-to-India (drumstick, lady finger, bitter gourd). India is evidently the largest grower of vegetables after China, but a study found 50-70% of those vegetables are contaminated with pesticides. DDT — outlawed since 1972 in the US due to its harmful effects — and other internationally banned pesticides are often detected. And the challenge to growers according to the India Times is not so much not using pesticides, but ensuring that farmers don't use more than the permissible amount.

One word: Yikes!
The good news is that there is an interest in organic food here, too, albeit lagging far behind the consciousness and easy access to be found at home in the States. There are a number of organic markets in Bangalore, but only one store and one weekly green market in Mysore.
I urge you to seek them out!

Mysore: For the Birds

2011-12-10T19:31:00.000-08:00

The beauty of waking up inordinately early is that you see things you would otherwise miss: I routinely scare bats from trees putting my mat out to dry after practice and one morning, walking home, I looked up to see a flock of ibis. I was reminded, via the latest Michael Ondaatje novel The Cat's Table, (which I finished in 3 days last week), that if you're in the desert and thirsty, look to see which way the birds are flying to find water. No, I'm not in the desert, but still—

The ibis were most certainly flying toward the lakes of the city. There are three lakes of note in Mysore: Karanji, Kukkaranahalli Lake, and Lingabudi Lake. Kukkarnahalli, near Mysore University has been a favorite lake to walk around on previous visits. Some people go their to run and it's also a nice place to see birds. I've yet to get there this trip and three different people have told me it's been closed due to... cheetah sightings! How cool is that? I'd love to see a cheetah, albeit I'd rather not be killed by one. And I always kind of laugh at big cat warnings — in Boulder, popular park trails were often closed after mountain lion sightings, and Berkeley has its share of cats prowling through town — not because I don't think they're of real danger, but they're probably always around. It's just when someone sees them they're threat becomes more potent. Kukkaranahalli Lake also has crocodiles so it's clearly a lot more wild and wooly than it appears.
Saturday, I noticed a sign for a Bird Sanctuary while driving through town so Sunday led to the entrance of the Karanji Lake, on the outskirts of Mysore, not far from the zoo or the new, open-but-still-being-constructed Mega Mall. Karanji Lake is the centerpiece of the Sanctuary's action and there we saw the aforementioned ibis in a tree as well as herons, egrets, bee-eaters, eagles, peacocks, the Indian equivalent of a bittern, ducks, cormorants, and fish. It was lovely, even if, as foreigners, our entrance fee was doubled and a tariff was placed on cameras. So be it. It felt for a few hours we were far from the city.

Mysore: Chamundi Revisited

2011-12-09T19:05:00.000-08:00

The best way up Chamundi Hill is to walk the steps: 1,180 hundred rough-hewn stone steps that lead the way to the great temple for the patron (& very fierce) goddess of Mysore, Chamundeshwari, on top of the 1000 meter hill that rises over the city. Behind the Chamundaswari temple is another, less populated Shiva temple. Six hundred steps down the hill from Chamundaswari is a Nandi bull sculpture and the Shiva Cave Temple. The hill has a rich history and is a place of pilgrimage for Shiva and Chamundeshwari devotees alike as well as tourists.

A special and much loved by yoga students Swamiji has manned the Shiva Cave Temple for well over a decade. Yoga students and teachers who traveled to Mysore long before I came here led me to both the Ashtanga Institute and the Shiva Cave Temple. My first yoga teacher knew Swamiji quite well. He played tapes of Swamiji chanting during our class, so I knew the voice before I met the man. Slight, barefoot and with long hair and a graying beard, Swamiji has the jolly, seen-it-all demeanor of Santa Claus. Many many people come to his Cave, to pay homage to Shiva and often seek guidance from Swamiji. I instantly feel elevated in his presence and make it a point to go see him when I’m here, if just to talk about the news or whose winning the cricket game as much as any weighty spiritual concerns of the moment.

And of course Chamundi Hill, is …Chamundi Hill. Rising over the city, the top is a hive of industry catered to tourests and devotees alike. Vendors sell flowers, sculptures, prayer bracelets, stuffed animals, coconuts, food…you name it. As with most attractions, a definite element of spiritual theme park has gone up in the shadow of the beautiful temple.
While I've walked up Chamundi hill on several occasions, that generally takes a bit of planning. The most comfortable (and expensive) way to get up Chamundi is to drive or to get a ride from a friend.
When it comes to transportation in India, I am a wimp. I do not drive. I do not rent a motorcycle or a scooter. I walk. I take rickshaws. Sometimes I ride on the back of a friend's scooter or motorcycle. Very occasionally, I hire a driver for a longer trip. Yesterday, a wise friend introduced to the local bus.

Bus #201, which takes passengers from downtown Mysore to the top of Chamundi hill, was air-conditioned and had speakers blaring songs to the goddess. Instead of haggling with a rickshaw driver over the faire, we handed a buss attendant 25 rupees for two and sat back in cushioned seats. We were the only Westerners on the bus. In front of me, a woman with jasmine in her hair sat with her school age son. The road is windy up Chamundi hill, and as it corkscrews up the mountain, a vista opens up of the city of Mysore and beyond. The bus was modern but the roads are still all-India: I had to talk myself out of feeling scared as we rounded sharp corners to see oncoming scooters, tour buses, monkeys and the occasional pedestrian.

Swamiji wasn’t at the Cave Temple, the space instead staffed by a younger sadhu in a white dhoti and beads. The young sadhu nodded to us, gave us prasad and continued chanting a low prayer to Shiva. He appeared to be counting as he touched his thumb to each finger as he chanted. I asked him if Swamiji was around and he said he’d gone to Mangalore. Then he offered us tea.

During my first visit to India, I’d sit in the back of the cave with a friend who spent many hours in service to the business of the Cave Temple while Swami did the morning pujas. Each day he chanted 45 minutes of prayers while cleaning the figurines and sculptures that formed the altar. I recognized some of the chants from the long-ago tapes played by my yoga teacher. The space feels divinated from the continual stream of prayer.

The young sadhu disappeared for a few minutes and returned with small tin cups of sweet creamy chai. We sat sipping our tea, watching other devotees bend down to walk through the low entrance to the cave, bow to the Shiva altar then touch their fingers to the red powder and mark their forehead. The sadhu nodded, doled out more prasad, his prayers never stopping.

Eventually, we finished our tea, thanked the sadhu and walked outside to wait for the bus. We'd be back.

Flowers and Rickshaws

2011-12-05T22:18:00.000-08:00

There’s a young man, Mahesh, who sells flowers outside the shala each morning. There are countless people selling these garlands of jasmine, kanakambaram and roses that people offer at temple or with which they adorn their own altars. I generally buy a 10 or 15 rupee strand each morning for my own makeshift altar at home. Mahesh, who is effusive in his thanks each time I make a purchase, remembered me from last year.

“I’ve bought a new rickshaw!” he tells me proudly and points to a shiny vehicle parked a few yards away. “You need a ride, you call me,” he says and hands me a simple white card with the words “Mahesh for Everything.”

How could I not be charmed?

I didn’t call him, but when a group of of students met for lunch, he was one of our rickshaw drivers. He had a new meter in the car, which he of course didn’t use. It’s usually an argument to get the drivers to use the meter, especially for Westerners for whom they routinely inflate their prices, our being here a sign of our wealth no matter how we might measure ourselves on a Western scale of class. The savviest of our group decided on his fee, which was more than favorable, but I could tell he was slightly crestfallen. More seasoned drivers may have told him how good a living he could make driving rickshaw for the Western students. I felt for him, sweet Mahesh who has yet to grow hard and stubborn about setting too-high fees, even as I dreaded the day he does.

In Mysore: Thoughts on Faith and Family

2011-12-04T22:35:00.000-08:00

I have vivid dreams here, in India: fragments of life in the States, images of early childhood and my parents. My thoughts of my mother and family always come up more strongly here, perhaps because at the heart of it, Ashtanga has been taught from the get go as a house-holder’s rather than a renunciate’s practice. Ashtanga students who travel to Mysore don’t go to an ashram: they simply practice in the morning and then fill the day as they wish.
“There are fewer obstacles [to practice] if you don’t have a family,” Sharath Rangaswamy said during conference yesterday, “Fewer attachments.” But flanked by his two children, who love to come sit on their father’s lap, or interrupt him altogether, as he addresses the 200 or so assembled students, it was clear he was hardly endorsing letting go of it all.
Nonetheless, the Ashtanga community is a global tribe unto it’s own. And the practice and community have certainly filled the role of family for me many times, especially early on: I began practice shortly after a divorce, the same year my dad grew ill. I first practiced with Sri Pattabhi Jois six weeks after my dad passed away, and the lessons learned on my first trip to India in 2004 helped me deal with my mother’s death a few short months after I returned to the States.
My mother tried yoga, albeit not Ashtanga, a year or two before she died. She didn’t continue. “It wasn’t what I thought it would be,” she told me. I remember my disappointment at hearing this, but I knew what she meant. Yoga practice is confrontative. There’s simply no avoiding yourself, your positive attributes as well as your delusions, your conditioned attitudes and your internal walls. When I first started, I would often get stuck, frozen with dread, my breathing coming to a near standstill, in certain poses. “Oh there’s that place,” my first teacher would say. And with his encouragement, I would eventually move past that state and complete my practice. Years later, I still encounter that internal wall, albeit in different ways, complete with its mirror image played out in other areas in my life.
The fact that my mom just stopped the bit of yoga she tried has pained me as much as the fact of her absence. And so lacking living parents with whom to seek solace or counsel when I feel stuck, I turn to my practice and, if possible, I find a way to return to India.
Last year, my boyfriend, who I was barely calling that at the time, met me here at the end of my Mysore trip. We spent a day in Gokulam before going to Goa, and I remember how scared I was of him being in this place that has been a haven as much as an educational ground.
“That’s like meeting the parents,” another student said and I had to agree, this community of yogis having so often played, knowingly or no, surrogate family.
Of course, there’s nothing like your real family, and I think that’s why my thoughts of my mom come up so strongly here. At conference, as Sharath’s children repeatedly interrupted his lecture by vying for his and we student’s attention, I found it as instructive to watch Sharath’s mix of unconditional love, tolerance and irritation as listen to his discussion of yoga, obstacles to practice and kriyas. Yoga in this tradition clearly means having a life, a family and fulfilling your duties as much as practicing asana. And the faith inherent to completing your practices is the same faith you place in your life.

Adjusting: Housing realities

2011-12-03T20:34:00.000-08:00

I was happy for the bucket bath the day I arrived in India, the hotel room clean, basic, with a good supply of hot water. Today at the cavernous, all-but-completely unfurnished house into which I placed my bags, luggage, guitar and food, I was less enamored.

“It will take a bit to feel comfortable,” a friend opined. A bit meant a decent bed, kitchenware, and a dining room table. Granted the dollar is fairly strong against the rupee at the moment...but how much furniture did I want to buy for a two-month stay? Still, I’d found a place in the heart of Gokulam in the middle of a crowded yoga-study season. Most of the furnished apartments and homes were reserved a year in advance. I’d known planning in advance, or keeping a place year round, was a good idea when I left in February, but while I’d stored a trunk full of things, I wasn’t really sure how soon I’d return. I knowingly took my chances on what I’d find.

The water was hot at the house, and overall it’s not a bad place by any means. I’ve got nice housemates, a terrace off my room and a 3-minute walk to the shala. But for the first time all week I was beset by doubts. Homesick. Missing my boyfriend. Fighting an urge to call the airline. I’m not comfortable. This of course means I’ll probably learn something new.

In general, however, it’s relatively comfortable living here. And given it’s a fourth trip, a lot of basics of Indian lifestyle differences don’t phase me. I’ve been most struck, even more than past years, by how we Westerners seem to take the relative ease for granted, perched on this part of the country, running to and fro in designer sunglasses and flip-flops, or roaring about on rented Royal Enfields. Another Westerner walked past me on an otherwise empty street in dark glasses, large earphones without acknowledging me. We could have been on a sidewalk in New York or riding BART in San Francisco.

Earlier in the day, I met another student who’d first come to Mysore 10 years ago, when Guruji was still alive and teaching at his original studio. She hadn’t been back until now. She was gracious but somewhat taken aback at the crowds and how people didn’t readily speak to one another. ‘It was more intimate,” she said. That was pre-Internet in every house, pre-refurbished apartments with washing machines, pre clean water. Who was I, I realized, to complain about a too-empty house?

Notes on gratitude

2011-11-30T02:48:00.000-08:00

After a few previous trips here, Mysore feels so familiar, I don't blink at the cows in the road or the oncoming erratically moving traffic. I recalled a teacher telling me after my first trip that it was a privilege to go practice yoga in India. Like so many lessons learned, I didn't understand this until years later. At that point, I didn't know I'd ever return, nor did I quite have a language for what I'd experienced.
As I walked to practice this a.m. I reminded myself to be grateful. That this wasn't ordinary. That however crowded the shala was, how easy it really is to jump a plane and go, not everyone has the chance to do this. That however vexed a lot of we students can be figuring out reconciling the balance between Mysore-life and home- life and loved ones, we had the luxury of a choice to come or not. Granted leaving home comes with it's own set of sacrifices, there's a magic here like no other. I've yet to find as potent a combination of the support of a dedicated community of practitioners and the stepped up transformation that occurs in the practice room at the source of Ashtanga Yoga.

On another note, I saw in the news that the pioneering raw food restaurant Cafe Gratitude are closing its Nor Cal locations due to lawsuits. I lived in the Mission of San Francisco when the first Cafe Gratitude opened its doors nearby and came to rely on it for both great, nourishing food and an insta-attitude adjustment toward the positive. While I'm saddened that internal complexities have led to lawsuits and ultimately closing, I want to add to my gratitude list Cafe Gratitude for its pioneering efforts toward health and community. The path of transformation is a complicated and delicate walk, I can only imagine how complicated the transformation business is.

In Mysore: The Caboose

2011-11-28T23:08:00.000-08:00

There are many trains in India, the railways reportedly occupying more than 40,000 miles of routes from ocean to mountain and everything in between the subcontinent's borders. Still, I've only been on an actual train once in India, having one time taken it to Bangalore in lieu of a car. It's a great way to enjoy the scenery (provided your train isn't packed to the gills). Nonetheless, there's a serious Ashtanga train that makes its way from points across the globe to Mysore and to the doors of the Ashtanga Yoga Institute on which I've taken several rides. And the train has never been so crowded in my experience as it has been on this, my fourth trip along this particular yoga route. I arrived a month plus into the 'Mysore' season, which runs approximately 6 months from October to March/April and the yoga shala is packed. This year, I'm definitely riding the caboose. I was a part of the 4:30am crew of students by the time I was midway through my last trip to Mysore. My practice time today was.... 8:45am!!! By that hour, a couple hundred students from Europe, the US, South America, Asia and beyond had already gone through their series'. When I arrived there were 20 students still waiting in the foyer. By the time I was done with my practice, I was the last one in the room. Outside, I got the last coconut of the day from the man who serves the post-practice hordes. Actually, I didn't mind one bit. I had plenty of time to get myself ready in the morning, make a SKYPE call home, write and enjoy a tea on the terrace. The room was spacious, I got plenty of attention from teacher and assistants and there were no shouts of 'next' or errant kicks in the head. For at least the next few days, I'll take it.

Transition Zone: Northwest by Southeast

2011-11-27T20:37:00.000-08:00

the horse I rode out in

view from the landing pad

Pt. Townsend beach view

Although it is hardly novel, it still amazes me that one can get into a plane in one culture and climate and fly across the globe to another world. After several lovely, lazy days making and eating Thanksgiving feasts and after-the-feast feasts in the Pt. Townsend area of Washington state, I flew to India. I wouldn't have expected it, but Northwesterly pie making and consuming, music playing and lolling was a good transition from home to Asia. Kind of a mini-trip on the way to the big trip. It was slightly tragic flying through Paris and not getting out of the airport. One of those plane changes that just leaves you enough time to get through customs, buy some water and get in line to board the flight to Bangalore. So goes. After another 9+ hours of airtime, I got off the plane in India after midnight, met my driver — a familiar face from previous trips — and made it to Mysore after a only-slightly harrowing drive (the highways improved continually over the years, but there were still some near shaves with trucks hauling mysterious looking cargo and a close-up view of a bus 'problem' aka accident) before dawn. Like Washington, it's raining; however, it's 20 degrees warmer. The air is also full of woodsmoke albeit of a different timber, and the sound of mopeds is already filling the air.

Traveling light

2011-11-24T14:07:00.000-08:00

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” – Henry Miller

Like my sexy new suitcase? So do I. It's light, durable and pretty.
My goal for my imminent trip to India is to carry less--only the clothes I'll really need and the essentials (vitamins, reading lights, computers) that I probably won't want to pick up there. The big debate is whether to take a guitar or a mandolin so both have made the trip to Washington for Thanksgiving. Other than that, I've a folder full of new songs to woodshed amid woodshedding my yoga practice at The Ashtanga Yoga Institute again. By carrying less, I hope I'll be able to identify more clearly what I'm really holding onto, and hopefully let it go. Now to not eat too much pie before I fly....

Artist Interview: SF Musician Peter Whitehead Revisits The Mission

2011-11-10T11:04:00.000-08:00

Peter Whitehead was among the first real artists I met when I moved to San Francisco in the late 1990s. A songwriter, composer, multi-instrumentalist, artist and instrument builder, Peter was performing when he wasn't composing scores for dance and film and building hand-made original instruments when he wasn't recording. If he wasn't making music he might be painting. Added to that he helped manage a lively art space out of his live-work space, Studio Valencia. If I needed a jolt of inspiration in the creativity department, I paid a visit to Studio Valencia to see what was going on. Odds were I would find a performance, a yoga class, an opportunity to read at a semi-regular salon or find Peter scoring a new performance. While holding impeccably high standards for work of any kind, Peter nonetheless was always encouraging of fledgling artists.
Periodically, he might take an extended trip to South East Asia or his native England, but in general, Peter was rooted in the City's Mission District. In 2000, Whitehead's immersion in the Mission art scene culminated in a performance piece based on his songs about his colorful neighborhood the well-recieved "The Mission is Not Impossible" at ODC, the result of a grant from The San Francisco Arts Commission. He also wrote scores for choreographers including Anna Halprin and Sarah Shelton Mann, for Matt Dillon's film "City of Ghosts" and contributed to a variety of musical projects by other artists including Beth Custer and Oliver Di Cicco. When the opportunity to live in New York arrived three years ago, he moved to the East Village to continue his work on the East Coast. Despite turns composing for Susan Marshall & Company and Mikhail Baryshnikov, Whitehead nonetheless remained tied to the SF arts community. Several months ago he returned to California. As he settles back into The Mission, Peter discussed his work and what it's like for him to be back.

Q: What are you working on now? How does is feel to be back in the Mission District feel 10 years after "The Mission is Not Impossible" and after your time living in New York?

PW: I'm currently finishing up a compilation CD of instrumental music made mostly for film and dance projects. The pieces date from the late nineties to the present. They include several pieces made for the Susan Marshall Company in New York and one made for a solo by Mikhail Baryshnikov in 2010. Concurrently with this I'm making lots of new work, recording instrumentals for no project in particular and trying to finish at least 10 songs that have been hanging around for the past 3 years unfinished. I also spend time [contacting] filmmakers and TV people who might want to employ me to make music and putting out feelers for musical collaborations. Finally I am back singing with the Conspiracy of Beards — a men's choir which sings only Leonard Cohen songs.

In the years I was away, the Mission has altered a lot. The obvious difference is the mass of people who now come down here for their entertainment and to shop. On the weekends I can hardly make my way along the sidewalk near my place on Valencia Street. Parts of Mission Street and Valencia Street in particular have slowly filled up block by block with fashionable restaurants and boutiques and this is spreading further towards Cesar Chavez every day. One noticeable indicator of what's really going on is there are no new music venues — no vitality in that department. The art galleries are based mostly on worn-out ideas that are thought to be commercial: versions of existing styles and copies of trends. No vitality in that department either. The prices in the stores and restaurants are also an indicator of who now spends there time in the neighborhood. It looks very prosperous but it feels rather empty.

When I wrote "The Mission is Not Impossible" we were going through a kind of crisis in the Mission. Greedy landlords and other opportunists who cared nothing for community or the cultural and mental health of a neighborhood were displacing artists and low-income residents — some who had been here for decades. A lot of this was fueled by the dot.com boom, which burst right after we did the show. The result was that the Mission was changed forever and the process of displacement and gentrification accelerated after that. In the last two years the city got together with the merchants and somehow decided that wider sidewalks and public references to Latin culture (which they were methodically displacing) would make the district attractive to shoppers and those who like to spend hours in cafes on their laptops. My sense talking to younger people and new arrivals is that they haven't a clue about the recent history of the Mission and the community that made it possible for it to exist in its present state. As usual artists, musicians and low-income people inhabited an undesirable, dangerous part of town and then improved it enough for businesses to take advantage of the attractive image created by their presence and their creations. They saw money was to be made. It’s the Woodstock generation syndrome for a new era.

It's definitely got energy and there are more people around, and I suppose lots of shops with interesting things for sale and music on the sidewalks is good in some ways, probably better than heroin addicts sleeping in doorways under cardboard, but it all feels a little superficial compared to the old Mission.

The Mission is the SF equivalent of the East Village in NY. Run-down neighborhood, drugs, street people, musicians and artists move in, rents go up, landlords get greedy, people move out and eventually the hip middle class take over. In New York, all I heard was how California was bankrupt, but in this little microcosm people obviously have jobs that provide disposable income. You definitely don't see too many dumpster divers any more. There's a forced sense to all the hip art and the creativity in general. It lacks the authentic rough edge that goes along with living with little money and having to be resourceful and wanting to be away from bourgeois culture.

Q: How would you compare the San Francisco creative community to the New York community? Did you find your work changed in NYC?

PW: I never really found my way into any kind of community in New York. That to me is one of the main differences to SF. People in NY these days are somewhat exclusive. It's not how it was even as recently as the 80's when there was a real sense of all being in it together. At that time there were lots of collaborations and new ideas being thrown out and shared. The closest I came to a community was working with a dance company on a regular basis, but even that felt very isolated and disconnected from other things. I played with a small improv group for about a year, which I really liked, but it was so hard to get people together on a regular basis that eventually I gave up on it. That would probably be easier to maintain in SF. In general I feel there is more flexibility in SF. More room to flounder before finding your voice or giving it up as a bad idea.

My work changed in NY for several reasons. 1. Less space — having to pare down equipment. 2. Transport, i.e. no car makes it harder to be a musician who carries lots of things around. 3. Working less with community meant less collaboration. 4. With none of my usual support around I was forced to work out technical problems alone, which was good for me. I became more competent in that aspect of music. 5 I created a lot of music to order, which meant I made things that I might not have made left alone.

I think I made a lot of progress into new territory and learned some new and useful skills, especially working with electronic music after being thought of by some as some kind of a purist for acoustic or homemade instruments. To me it’s all sound and composition. I developed a wider range of tools to work and became more efficient at delivering what was needed on time and this was a real asset when working with top-level choreographers and dancers. In general, everything just got pared down and more streamlined.

Q: Can you talk a bit about your composition and songwriting process? Does your process differ much when you're writing for a piece of dance or film and when you're writing or composing independently?

PW: There’s no rule of thumb to this. Songs come from all directions, Sometimes sitting with a guitar, sometimes banging on a few odd metal objects or playing around with a piano or electronics. Sometimes a song arrives while traveling on a train or bus. Sometimes the words come first or a good line creates a basis. I keep lots of notebooks with words that have song potential or may remain as poetry. Mostly the music emerges slowly and then the words almost fit themselves in. Instrumental music is easier in that I don’t have to fit words with it and so its more open to all kinds of sonic possibilities and structures. In both songs and instrumental music I always experiment a lot before arriving at the final version.

Each dance situation is different. Some dance music emerges from improvising with live dance in the studio and is played live for the show. Other music is made to videos of rehearsals or exists only in recorded form made away from the dancers and brought in to the studio for fine-tuning and development. With Mikhail Baryshnikov, Susan Marshall played me three rock songs [of which] she liked the feel and tempo [and] I watched an initial rehearsal to rough out the timing of sections and changes. Then I went home and made a sketch, which was approved as being on the right track. This I then modified and developed over about four rehearsals. I cut sections out, added words, and made an intro and an ending.

Film is easier in that the images are usually fully developed by the time I come to do the music. With both film and dance I often have things I've been playing around with at the time that I try out to see if they work. In many cases they do work and so they get developed. Working with both films and dance means I usually have to modify my ideas to fit the needs of the director or choreographer, which is often a good thing in that it contains what I'm doing and shapes it. Both dance and film provide structure and events to work with, which help to focus ideas. Certain sounds very obviously don't work with certain images or movement and so I am steered in a particular direction. Both dance and film music is about sensing a mood or a motion in time. Just making a piece of music for the sake of it has no restrictions and along with that come problems as well as the advantages of feeling that anything goes, but structure and knowing a time limit can be very useful.

Some of my instrumental music gets labored over for months until I get something I feel is finished. Other pieces come out in a matter of an hour or so. Some pieces never do get resolved and remain unfinished. I have dozens of these pieces filed under "unfinished." The same for songs. Some songs have taken only hours. A great many are unfinished or abandoned. I was encouraged to read that Leonard Cohen sometimes works on a song for three years or more until he thinks its ready. Quite often I discover a recording I barely remember making. I like this because I feel like I'm more objective about whether it’s any good and should be worked on more or just thrown away.

Q What can listeners expect from you in the next year? Can you discuss any new releases or projects or shows?

PW: A new CD of Dance and Film Music, a new song CD of all the songs I never finished. A gallery show of my homemade instruments and paintings. A painting show and song performance in January. Not a lot lined up as I'm still settling back in after three years away.

For more information about Peter Whitehead's work, visit http://www.whiteheadarts.net

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Tuesday, Nov 8 Songwriter Serenade w/J.C. Hyke

2011-11-05T14:05:00.000-07:00

"Let's Move" Video Released

2011-11-04T12:39:00.000-07:00

The video is complete! Thanks Sara Fisher at Blue Lotus Films for putting it all together.
From the CD '2010' by Deborah Crooks
Artist: Deborah Crooks
Band: Ben Bernstein, Kwame Copeland and Tim Perdue
Extra (Yogini): Magnolia Zuniga
Directed/Produced/Edited by: Sarah Fisher of Blue Lotus Films
Director of Photography Nicole Salmeri
Production/ Editing Assistant: Lauren James

Mokai's Latest Distraction: Fingerpicking Blues Artist Releases New CD

2011-11-02T09:00:00.000-07:00

Equal parts activist and artist, Mokai has been serving audiences of all kind with some of the finest folk blues and fingerpicking guitar work to be found on the West Coast. Those audiences will be delighted to find that he's just completed a new CD "Any Distraction'll Do" that he's celebrating with a concert in Berkeley this week. Fresh from the Far-West Conference and primed to perform in support of the CD, Mokai answered a few questions about his work.

Q: Can you talk about the process of recording this time around?
M: The recording of the album was a particular good experience. I worked with Jon Evans, who is an excellent engineer and a great musician and acoustic bass player. He was part of the Tori Amos band for years, and worked on her albums. So for me it was the experience of working in a really professional environment, with the best equipment and, most importantly, someone who knew how to make things happen without wasting time or spinning my wheels.

Q: How did you go about choosing these particular songs? Are they from a span of years or were they written together?
M: I had been working on these songs for some time. I was thinking of home recording, when I heard about Kickstarter. So I was able to raise some of the funds there, and get folks activated anticipating the release. In the final stages of preparation a few new songs emerged that became part of the final collection.

Q: You've a CD release party—what can your audience expect? Any guest musicians or surprises?
M: I'm excited to be sharing my CD release party with Professor Burns. We met through friends a few years ago, and I've become enamored of his vibe. Very rootsy and smart. I'll be accompanied on my set by upright bassist Joshua Zucker, who's been playing with me on and off over the years. Those who are familiar with my music know they'll be hearing some of my signature fingerpicking, including a few solo instrumental guitar pieces. I have some easy-going songs, and then some that have some challenging lyrics, hopefully get people to ponder some ideas, and enjoy my exploration of the craft of songwriting.

Q: Will you be touring in support of the CD? What do the next 6 months look like?
M: I'm most eager to play house concerts, so anyone who hosts or knows anyone who does, get in touch. Also, those who want to try out hosting a party with a concert in the middle. I'm hoping to take it on the road in 2012 to the Pacific NW and the SW, with a few things on the East Coast next summer. I'll make sure that people who follow my Facebook page know what's up. Thanks, let's keep the music going.

CD release party for the new album “Any Distraction'll Do” 8PM, Thursday, November 3rd, Subterranean Arthouse, 2179 Bancroft Way, Berkeley CA. With Prof Burns! Buy advance tix here, and get a free CD at the show: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/204201

More notes on the type

2011-10-29T10:52:00.000-07:00

"Writing is a struggle against silence." ~ Carlos Fuentes

There's recording gear all over the house: mics, cables, various instruments. On the road to Oregon last week, we gave ourselves a little challenge to write a song each day (in the car, at rest-stops, a cafe during the conference and in Mieko's back-yard) and now we're home, putting them down on 'tape' to work with a bunch more. I'd been feeling a bit sluggish with my writing, doing it but uncertain of what I was saying, a bit more critical, and therefore, not letting much out of the house. This, I suppose, is the bane of having written for some years now. I'm more critical than I used to be which is one big trap, self-criticism squashing creativity from the barely get-go. So I'm back to enjoying the mess of it on the way to things finding their shape: the uncertainty, the errant cables and guitar cases, scratched out chords and verses.

Deborah Crooks, McCoy Tyler & JL Stiles play Plough & Stars 10/29/11

2011-10-26T09:20:00.000-07:00

Friday! I'm opening up for a night of Americana music at a venerable San Francisco venue which will include me & the band, The McCoy Tyler Band and JL Stiles. Come on down!

The Plough & Stars is "The Best, Most Authentic Irish Pub in San Francisco"

The Plough and Stars

116 Clement Street

San Francisco, California

Fall Colors, Far-West in Eugene

2011-10-24T07:23:00.000-07:00

We took a drive up Highway 5 late last week to attend the Far-West Folk Alliance Conferencee in Eugene, Oregon. It was the first time I'd attended the conference, which has to qualify as the friendliest and more practical of music conferences I've attended. With panels about presenting music to DJs, official shows featuring some of the best of the conferences' acoustic musicians, guerrilla showcases giving everyone an opportunity to demonstrate their chops and awards ceremonies honoring true masters of craft, I came away thoughtful, inspired and buoyed that the musical landscape remains diverse, passionate, viable and willing to support its own. I heard more fiddle music than I have all year, including being completely floored by the mastery of 'Best of the West' winners Laurie Lewis and Vivian and Phil Williams. Their awards concert was a big highlight.
While the Conference kept attendees busy from morning to well past midnight each day, I did have a chance to check out the local color, literally and figuratively. Eugene was rivaling the East Coast for its riot of Fall Colors while we were there and I had a moment to check out the thriving Saturday Market of Farmer's Market produce and local crafts. Likewise, we were hosted by some of my favorite people, Mieko & Christopher, who are also musicians if not conference attendees, and the living room typically had some acoustic instrument humming. Good times.
Radio also got into the mix. At the conference I chatted on-air with Neil during his Recovery Coast to Coast radio show, who was spinning recovery-related music from Far-West artists ("It's All Up to You" was the track selected from this songwriter), and met Portland DJ Diane Hunt of KBOO who featured 'Sunday Best' on her Folk Espresso morning show.

Caveat Lector Salon @ Little Bird 10/12 in SF

2011-10-11T17:11:00.000-07:00

"Zebra Dream" by Mallory Morrison in Caveat Lector Vol 2. #22

I recently—and very happily— started a new writing group, based on a form of writing practice I've been doing on-and-off for more than a decade. I held writing groups while I was in India last year, but for most of the past five years or so, the Internet has encroached on the area where my prose-y, essay-y, memoir-style writing life used to park. Yeah, I love that I can look up any fact, figure or map at any given moment — or intersection — on my iPhone, and I certainly appreciate using said device's Notes feature for lyric ideas...and well, it's really not the same. I've been wired...but kind of parched. And I didn't realize how thirsty I was for that simple, lovely stream of hand, to pen, to ink, to paper that unlocks the unconscious in it's own unique way.
And oddly enough, or rather in that uncanny energy-attracts-energy way, voila, as soon as I started up again, writers are everywhere. I reconnected with some former writing group members at poet Karen Hildebrand's lovely Berkeley reading, sat next to another poet in a Mission club, and will be playing songs at the salon of literary magazine Caveat Lector. If you're in San Francisco, I hope you'll join us at Little Bird Coffeehouse for literature and literate tunes.

Wednesday, Oct. 12 Little Bird Coffee House

Caveat Lectur Salon - 7pm

835 Geary Street
San Francisco California USA

Birds on the Water

2011-10-05T12:28:00.000-07:00

As it's happened, I've marked many of my life's pivots by moves to places near water: I moved to Bolinas when I came back to California after living in Colorado for a number of years; the coast of Santa Cruz when my father was ill and to Stinson Beach after my first trip to India. All afforded me quick access to wild and beautiful natural areas, hiking trails and views of wildlife and birds. I took a lot of solace in these places before taking a big breath and getting on with things in more urban areas.

I moved to Alameda after my third trip to India. The latest moved I would not have predicted. I knew little about the East Bay Island city between Oakland and Bay Farm Island, nor was it on my radar as particularly natural and wildlife friendly. I was moving for a human relationship not a geographical one...so I was that much more excited upon moving and soon discovering I now lived within walking distance of a bird sanctuary. How cool was that? The Elsie Roemer Bird Sanctuary, a protected swatch of salt marsh and wetlands on the edge of a Crown Beach, is full of shorebirds— godwits, stilts, kildeer, gulls, curlews— and is fast becoming my favorite respite from it all.

"I caught a long wind/long life wind/I got to know the sky but it didn't know me/I got to see the land and land on top the sea/be the bird be the key/" —Feist, "Caught a Long Wind" from 'Metals"

Perfect Circle: REM, Alex Grey & The Mission of Art

2011-09-26T08:28:00.000-07:00

Three days after the 1989 earthquake, a college classmate and I drove a long roundabout route from UC Santa Cruz to the Concord Pavilion to see REM play live. Santa Cruz and the rest of the San Francisco Bay area was reeling from the damage caused by the 6.9 earthquake and the usual roads were closed to traffic so a usual 2-hour or less drive took more than 3 hours. Sill, while we were at once traumatized and in shock from coming through the epicenter of earthquake unscathed, we were über excited to see the concert. REM provided much of the soundtrack to my college years and I'd had the tickets for weeks. And wow, weren't our musical heroes rising to the occasion: a natural disaster had not deterred them from going on with the show. REM more than rose to the occasion of inspiring the shaky crowd: they played a near 20-song set before 3 encores (including "Stand,""It's the End of the World as We Know It" and "Begin the Begin"). They played the heroes at a time when we really needed them and we drove home with hope restored despite our damaged homes and cities.
I don't know when I stopped really listening to REM. It wasn't that I lost respect for the band, it was just as my life changed, my tastes changed. I saw them several times over the years, including at SXSW in 2008 where they once again pulled no punches during a set at Stubbs, but I didn't really keep them in my listening play list.

More than 20 years later, I found myself visiting LA hiking up Runyon Canyon with another songwriter the day after the announcement that REM was calling it quits. We were talking new projects and change and how we were negotiating those inevitable markers of creative lives, as well as having a sense of mission in one's work. REM's much more public process of closing it's chapter as a band seemed to sum up that experience: not negative but bittersweet with the fact of time passing and the need to recharge and refocus to be that much more effective.

Upon getting home I was reminded of the work of visionary artist Alex Grey. Grey depicts a hyper-detailed physical and energetic reality in his paintings, a realization of a vision honed by scientific study, artistic technique, select use of LSD and committed spiritual practice. His work is deep and mystical and transcendent. His 1998 book "The Mission of Art" as well as his many writings and interviews are wonderful depictions of artistic process and understanding of what art is to culture.

"Art is a reflection of who we think we are and what a culture is. It’s a reflection of cultures and individuals, and how they resonate. Art is the way a culture embeds its sacred truths so that they can be passed on, either the next day or centuries from that time. It’s the way we have preserved our cultural memory of who and what we are." —Alex Grey.

I thought of REM, and how they encapsulate a time of my life, a certain generation of music, and the hope and inspiration they provided...and their wisdom in moving on.

REM: "Perfect Circle"

Last Sunday's Fest: Music on Telegraph in Berkeley 9/25/11

2011-09-22T10:15:00.000-07:00

If you love listening to music in a cafe setting, come to Telegraph and take part in the first Cafe Music Stroll Sunday, September 25th, part of Berkeley's monthly Last Sunday's Fest. For the music stroll, four cafes between Bancroft and Parker, as well as sidewalk venues, will feature hour long performances by a variety of musical artists playing jazz, pop, blues, tango and classical selections. I'll be holding up the Americana end of the musical spectrum, performing near the Berkeley Hat Company at 4pm.

Workspace Gallery Party, September 17, 2011

2011-09-16T10:31:00.000-07:00

Workspace Ltd is a vibrant gallery and studio space for visual artists in SF. I played at one of their open studios shows in the Spring and am glad to play their Gallery Party celebrating their latest series of event: Underfoot.
Come on down! It's also a benefit for WalkSF
Underfoot: Bay Area Artists Look Down
Wednesday Sept 14 – Saturday Sept 17
Workspace Gallery, 2150 Folsom
Free; donations benefit Walk SF

Workspace Gallery presents 14 Bay Area artists responding to the land below our feet. What do we see and feel about this ground we walk over, tunnel under, drink and eat from, dig up, and bury our dead in?

Saturday Sept 17: Bike tour and art party
Follow the unseen waterways of the city, then celebrate:

3:00 pm – The Sewer Ride: Join us for an aboveground bike tour of San Francisco’s sewer-stormwater system, with a focus on the Mission District and Mission Creek. The tour will be approximately three hours with stops; it starts and ends at Workspace.

7:00 pm – Gallery Party! Come together on the show’s final night to raise a glass to artists, streets, and waterways as we close out this marvelous show. Live music by Blues/Americana musician Deborah Crooks.

Bring your friends and support local art and advocacy! All events are free. Donations requested to support Walk San Francisco’s work to make city streets better for you and your feet.

Let's Move: Making a Video

2011-09-14T11:25:00.000-07:00

I had a really fun time on the 'set' at Lake Merritt yesterday, shooting a new video for "Let's Move" with Oakland-based Blue Lotus Films' director Sarah Fisher and her crew. We've been planning the video for the past month or two but we had some fun surprises...like ending up playing in a tree! Sarah will be editing the footage for the next few weeks. In the meantime, here are some scenes from the day.

Dream Me: peace, joy & community

2011-09-11T08:10:00.000-07:00

Peace, love and a song for you from my first recording:
"Dream Me" by Deborah Crooks & Tim Salz, 2003

Interview: Alex Medin on Ashtanga Yoga & Sanskrit

2011-09-04T13:08:00.000-07:00

this post first appeared in Elephant Journal, 7/4/11. I'm posting again as Mysore 'season' for Ashtangis approaches.

While in Mysore, India, last winter, I met Ashtanga Yoga teacher and Sanskrit scholar Alex Medin, whose support of other yoga practitioners and love of the arts impressed me as much as his advanced asana practice. One of a select handful of Ashtanga teachers certified by Sri K Pattabhi Jois to teach the system, Alex now divides his time between his native Oslo where he helps to run a yoga center, a few teaching trips (if people ask) and regular visits to Mysore to practice at the Ashtanga Yoga Institute. Before returning to Norway earlier this year, he discussed his journey from boxer, ballet dancer and ‘thug’ to devoted yoga student, Ashtanga teacher and Sanskrit scholar.

Q: Who introduced you to Ashtanga?

Alex Medin: My son [Benjamin] and I, we had been at the archipelago, in Stockholm (Sweden), swimming, and I met an old friend of mine on our way home.. He was on his way to an Asthanga Yoga class and I’d always wanted to try yoga so we joined in. This was in 1995, so hardly anyone was practicing back then. The class was in an office and they teachers just cleared away a few desks, rolled out a yoga mat and told us to start. There were only five people, we three and the two teachers Charlotte and Gittan. They are still teachers in Sweden.

I remember laying in savasana after class and feeling, ‘Wow this is good! This is incredible, this just feels right! And I’ve basically been doing it ever since! I only got to study with them for two days, since I was going on holiday to Denmark, but managed to get a copy of Lino Miele’s latest book of primary series with the drawings by John Scott and started practicing myself. Once I came back to Stockholm I soon moved to London to be involved in some dance and theater work, but once I got there I was so fascinated with yoga and could not get enough of it.

Q: After dancing and theater, did you think 'this is it?' or did it take a while....

AM: I got totally immersed in the yoga scene. I was so tired of working as a dancer and an actor trying to constantly prove myself, but with no idea of who I really was. I was living for the stage and living a dream of wanting to be somebody, without the slightest clue of what I really wanted to do with my own life. So in a way I didn’t have a personal life, I was just trying to make it as an actor, and suddenly I realized this is totally crazy! So I thought, ‘maybe I should just focus on this yoga thing for a while, it feels good and it feels right!’ My plan was to get back into dancing and acting later but the whole yoga thing just took off!

I started practicing with John Scott at the City Yoga Center in London. I got a job as a butler for a woman called Angela Levin, who was the editor of The Daily Mail in London. My girlfriend and I could stay in their penthouse for free, [provided we] cook for them every day, take care of their son Daniel when he came home from school, and we were paid 100 pounds a week. We thought it was a great deal.

Then after four months I got an offer to a cook for Godfrey Deveraux, a self-proclaimed mystic who was living in a teepee in Ibiza and running a yoga retreat center called Windfire Yoga. It was a crazy time, I was living in a tent, cooking for up to twenty people every day on a one-cylinder gas stove. It was crazy, mad, but truly educational on many levels. Then I moved to Crete and worked for Derek Ireland for four months.

When I finally came back to London in ‘97 I started studying at SOAS (School of Oriental and African Studies), because Eastern Philosophy fascinated me. Sadly I had dropped out of high school when I was 18 to focus on boxing and dancing so I had no official high school degree. But the dean at SOAS was kind and took me on as a trial student in Comparative Religion under the pretext that I would score high on all the exams. After having completed that first year and secured my place, I wanted to come here [to Mysore] and see what this Pattabhi Jois was like. I heard so many stories—good stories and bad stories—so I wanted to check him out.

Q: And you met Guruji?

AM: So I show up in Mysore on the full-moon-day in July of ‘98, which also happened to be his birthday. I went over to his house and said: ‘Hi I’m here for a year. I’m going to study Sanskrit and I would like to practice yoga with you.’ He looked at me with a sense of anticipation and surprise. Then he just laughed and said. ‘Ha, ha, you want to study Sanskrit?’

Let’s just say I came with a bit of an attitude. Guruji certainly felt it, but I asked if I could watch the following day and he said ‘OK.’ So the next day I show up, but I feel everybody is just huffing and puffing and remember thinking to myself, Jesus, what is all of this really about? I wasn’t that impressed at all.

I got bored after some time and went upstairs, where the other people were doing their finishing postures, to ‘meditate’ for a little. I did a few postures of my own and then sat down in the padmasana posture to contemplate what the energy was like. Gosh I was so spaced out at that time. I thought Guruji was asleep. It was all quiet and beautiful and then suddenly I hear: ‘Hey! What are you doing? Get out of here!’ He basically threw me out.

So I come back the next day and I ask if I can practice. I wanted to register for a month, but Guruji just said: “No, it’s full. Come back next month.” I come back the next month and then once again he says “No we are full. You wait one more month.”

So there I am at home practicing myself stupid. Desperately wanting to prove myself to Guruji and practicing First, Second, Third series’ ever day.

Q: First, Second and Third series?

AM: I’d been taught crazy things in Crete, London and Ibiza. They took me way too quickly through the series’, which triggered all my desire and ambition and fuelled all the other imbalances that I had. Guruji saw that, but after three months of sweating it out at home, I was hoping to finally show Guruji what I was all about. So I show up at his doorstep one afternoon.

‘So can I start now?’

He said, “No, next month.”

I said, ‘please.’ Then I turned to Sharath and asked him to help me. They exchanged a few words in Kannada and then Guruji looked at me and asked: ”You bring money?”

‘Yes!’ I said.

We then went upstairs. I enrolled and then started practicing the next day.

Traditionally you do Primary series for the first few weeks, and then maybe you are allowed to do intermediate. But after three weeks, I was so tired of waiting, I just do pasasana (first posture of 2^nd series), thinking, ‘they haven’t really seen me, and understood how good I am.’

I get away with it on the first side, but then when I’m about to do the next side, I suddenly hear this loud voice filling the room: “Hey! What are you doing?” Guruji had woken from his little nap and shouted: “No, you’re not ready. You wait!” So I curled my tail and hoped I would be able to get another chance ASAP.

I saw other people doing intermediate series and I thought, ‘this is ridiculous: I can do so much better! Although the practice was slowly getting to me, I didn’t feel it. I was too busy anticipating what I wanted to do and hoping to prove myself rather than explore what was actually happening.

After 2 ½ months, I got really sick, my whole body fell apart. I thought I would come home in a body bag. Guruji smiled and said ‘very good,’ despite I was looking like a corpse. Then one week into my third month I was totally fed up. I approached him one afternoon and asked ‘if I could have my money back. I need to take a break!’

His immediate response was: “Not possible!”

I was really argumentative and pushed it. He kept saying “No. No, you registered. You stay and practice!”

I refused to give in, so eventually he said “OK, you go. When you come back you can practice the remaining three weeks you have left.”

I went to the Maldives to renew my Visa. I came back [to India] and traveled in the North for two months. Then I returned [to Mysore] and I did three weeks. I felt something had changed and I signed up for another month.

I was still on only Primary series, but something felt different. Something was falling into place. Toward the end of my fourth month, he eventually started me on Second Series. Crazy as it may seem, finally I felt as if Guruji was trying to help me. Here was somebody who saw all my imbalances and aggression. Previously all my attention was outward, but suddenly I was forced to look inward by the simplicity of the practice. He had tried to help me all along, but I was too busy trying to prove myself so I could never receive his simple guidance. Then one day, I felt he had really tried to help me and do me some good, so I bowed down to him and touched his feet. He just smiled and shook his head in Indian fashion. Then a whole new connection started between us.

I was starting my fifth month but I was running out of money. I went to pay and I said, ‘Guruji, I’m staying for another four months. I want you to know I’m truly grateful, and this is all the money I have left to practice for…how long can I stay for?

And he said, “So how long you staying in India? When are you leaving? Then he said “Ok, you stay.” He let me practice four months for the price of one! Here I was this thug and he had the compassion and patience to see me work it out.

Q: Then you went home?

AM: I went home… and my brother died in a tragic accident. I came back and took my sister here. We didn’t have much money, but once again he let me practice. We were here for two months and I paid for one. Once again I was so grateful, so touched. I thought, ‘this guy sees me in a way I cannot grasp, and he’s trying to help me.’

Q: When did he give you his blessings to teach?

AM: Authorization was different back then. People would ask if they could teach and he’d say “Yes, yes, no problem.” Guruji was never bothered with that. Then Sharath started to take control in 2001-2. People who were certified got a certificate with a stamp from the government. You fill out a letter with your father’s name, your mother’s name. Then you pay some money.

I got it in 2002, I hadn’t finished Third series yet. Then one day, I’m sitting in the office. I had come to register, and Guruji said, “You apply for certification.” So, I said ‘OK!’ I said ‘Guruji, $1000 is all I have,’ and he said “OK, give me a thousand.” So that was a big thing then. I think he certified me because I had this tremendous love of Sanskrit and he probably new I would never make any money from it, so maybe it was to help me I don’t know. Maybe also he liked the fact that it took me three months to bow down to him and he probably knew once I surrendered to him it was for life.

Q: So the asana and the Sanskrit have always gone hand-in-hand with you?

AM: There’s nothing that has shaped my mind like the Sanskrit studies. If there’s one thing that India can be proud of, it’s their ancient Sanskrit tradition. I’ve been truly privileged to study Sanskrit here with some great, great teachers. My mind was so scattered, lost and bewildered .... Yoga and Sanskrit provided a sharp tool to awaken my mind of its deep state of ignorance. Sanskrit is such a beautiful language, it has the most advanced grammar on earth, reflecting a sophisticated way of thinking that articulated the science of sound. [It’s based on] how life-breath moves through your mouth and how sound is formed from its contact with the tongue and movements of the lips. In a brilliant way it clearly defines verbs and nouns and their development from root syllables. It is the most beautiful language. They say it takes 10 years to say you know a little bit, and another 10 years to say you know nothing. So I’ve just started the period where I realize how little I know.

AM: And you’re on that road?

AM: Well…maybe many lifetimes. I feel that nothing has refined my mind more than Sanskrit. I was a young gangster, a boxer, a dancer, and a criminal in my youth. Having had that privilege to study this language, having had the honor of being close to some teachers that were patiently helping me out to remove some layers of ignorance. That is a godsend!

Q: Do you teach Sanskrit?

AM: It is so deep, so vast. Yes, I know the basic works and I can understand the Gita, and Sutras like this [snaps fingers]. But, to really penetrate deep into the shastras, the sciences, takes a lifelong commitment. And in all honesty I’m really not that interested in entering into the politics of western academia, where the majority of people are quite ignorant about the deeper aspects of Sanskrit.

Q: Kind of like yoga?

AM: Well I’ve taught Mysore style for more than 10 years now. It took me probably 10 years to get good grasp of what I was doing. The first five years I just did what I thought was right. Tried to be like Guruji and Sharath without really understanding how things work. But then the practice and teaching humbles you and if you pay attention some great insights may come in the process. Ashtanga yoga is so beautiful if you get it right from the beginning. If you are not too busy trying to work it all out at once. The practice takes time, life takes time and mostly we get things completely wrong. However there is a beautiful strength that comes from the simplicity of being that the practice can teach us, and when we learn to remain humble and receptive, we get it right, and then our whole life expands in a beautiful way.

Q: How do you mean, ‘get it right?’

AM: Treat the practice as a way to explore your breath and mind while staying in the postures. Learn to breathe through our many layers of discomfort, free up space from within and examine the subtle patterns of our mind. Deep within us is a clarity of being, a source of joy that is constant, but unfortunately we tend to cover that with our many projections, gunk and confusion If we start off and realize there is nowhere to go, nothing to get, it’s an exploration of the now, then I believe we get it right from the start and save ourselves a lot of trouble.

When there is stiffness in the body...say you can’t do a backbend. Then you feel it and [it’s] preferable learn to relate to that area in a new way. You have to bring all your awareness to the specific area of obstruction.

Once I went to Guruji and said, ‘you’ve broken my back,’ and his immediate response was, “good, very good.”

He said “You feel, you just don’t do. Feel your pain. Feel your difficulties, become the saksin (inner witness) and bring all of your awareness to your pain. Then after some time, the pain will change and you’ll feel a different foundation within you. I was treating the practice like a performance. I was like a wild stallion on the fields in spring, just wanting to run or do, but with no awareness of what was going on inside.

Q: Sharath has been talking a lot about the yamas and niyamas this year…

AM: There will be nobody home to receive yoga if we don’t learn to follow the yamas and niyamas… . There are subtle things that drive us, and we’re not transparent enough to figure out the greater truths of life that is why yamas keep us in our place to prevent the accumulation of negative karma. If we don’t practice the niyamas, we lack the purity of perception to receive yoga. It takes an element of insight and self-study to acknowledge that there’s a greater force at play in the world beyond our own will. Imbalanced needs will create further imbalances, but an awakening to grace will set us free and lift us up into a new way of seeing. Yoga is ultimately about how we learn to see things with clarity of perception rather than being driven by our many conditioned patterns.

Q: Do you have a particular approach to running a Mysore room?

AM: I try to be traditional. Just throwing postures at people doesn’t help. What is most important is to bring a presence to the room that people feel seen and observed. There’s nothing worse than a Mysore teacher trying to adjust everyone at the same time.

Q: How do you negotiate injuries?

AM: They should be avoided at all costs. They’re sad for everybody, for the teacher as well as the student. All injuries come from imbalances. And with a strong practice like Ashtanga, injuries do happen. It doesn’t have to be negative if we try to understand why they arise. Look at it as a way to find out what is going on and pay attention to that area and you might learn something great from it. Many times I’ve pushed myself to stupidity. I’ve been too hungry or too ambitious to ‘improve’ and neglected the fact that my body was stiff. [You have to] learn to be patient, and inquire: “What does it mean to dissolve the tension and layers we carry?” Rather than just pile on new ones, although they may keep us flexible in the body for a little while, until age catches up with us. Find out how fragile and sensitive we are. Then a real strength may come forth. Yoga settles when you take a step back and stop trying so hard.

Q: You’ve been through many changes in the community and Guruji passing…

AM: Guruji was sick the past two years of his life. Everyone knew it was coming. Some people were under the delusion that he would live for 100 years. Once it finally hits you, it hurts.

Q: How is it to be here now [in Mysore]?

AM: Sharath is doing a great job keeping the energy and presence. Sharath is coming into his strength and finding his place, what works and what doesn’t. He holds a really good place. He was side-by-side with Guruji for 20 years.

Q: You went to your first yoga class with your son? Now you are in Mysore with him again… how has that been?

AM: We’ve been together five times in the Mysore room. His enthusiasm has been up and down about the practice, but he has certainly taught me just as much about my life and my mind as the practice has. And come to think of it in a way, I have Benjamin to thank for the practice of yoga. If I hadn’t taken him to the beach that day, I may never have started!

When not traveling, Alex teaches Puro Yoga in Oslo at http://www.puroyoga.no/

CA Gigging: Around the Bay & Back

2011-08-28T08:58:00.000-07:00

Playing with Tim & Kwame in Sacramento as part of Gimme the Gig

It's been a full couple weeks of fairly-close-to-home gigging albeit with much variety. Last Friday, I drove up to Sacramento with Tim (bass) and Kwame (guitar) to take part in the Gimme the Gig Tour. Gimme the Gig is actually a contest run by Ford Focus to work with famed producer Don Was and win some nice Ford automobile prizes. As Don Was has produced many of my favorite artists including Bonnie Raitt, Bob Dylan, Rolling Stones, Willie Nelson AND Lucinda Williams I was pretty excited to take part in the hoopla...only it involves more than playing. If you're reading this, please take a moment to go to Gimme The Gig site and vote for my Let's Move video. It's in the 'D' section under "Vote for Your Favorite Bands," and you may need to scroll down a little. Click on the video to be led to how to vote. Thank you! I'm ever so grateful for your vote to help "Gimme The Gig"

Mi familia

The next night was a sweet warm performance in Santa Rosa at Aroma Roasters where my sisters and Aunt made a surprise appearance. This was a treat as was having some friends from my Colorado days in the audience. The rest of the crowd was lovely. Thank you Santa Rosa.

This weekend, I played one of the coolest venues in SF, Viracocha, as part of the Lovely Bella's Showcase. The Lovely Bella's are a network of female artists in the Bay led by Kristina Bennet and Kristina Soriano whom I was introduced to by violist Tatiana Ecoiffier. The evening featured a slew of talented and diverse vocalists. We loved both listening and performing in this cozy, speakeasy-esque Mission District venue.

Tatiana accompanies pianist Kristina Soriano @ Viracocha SF

Music @ Aroma Roasters Cafe, Santa Rosa 8/20/11

2011-08-18T14:44:00.000-07:00

Rex's Blues: Van Zandt, Rodriguez, Holland

2011-08-15T09:55:00.000-07:00

A good song is a good song, period, not matter who it's sung by. Such is 'Rex's Blues' by Townes Van Zandt. It's a dark, bleak song about following one's own compass...despite the consequences.

'I'm chained upon the face of time
feelin' full of foolish rhyme
there ain't no dark till something shines
I'm bound to leave this dark behind"
—from Rex's Blues by Townes Van Zandt

It was December 1992 when I saw Townes Van Zandt take a stage in Boulder Colorado. Barely out of college, raised on equal parts California fog, rain and sunshine, I didn't really know he was...and then I heard him sing. It was kind of like seeing Allen Ginsberg at The Fox a year or two later. Both men, pioneering and dogged in their pursuits, were very near the end of their lives. I knew it was big to see them but I didn't quite realize I'd remember these moments so clearly 20 years later.

When I feel lost where I am, I scan the past for such times. Sometimes, it's only when you look back over a life, you see you are being led all along.

So it's striking to me that several versions of 'Rex's Blues' by Townes Van Zandt have come to my attention in recent months, both sung by female singers. I've been listening to a version by Carrie Rodriguez, a polished, alt-country artist from Austin, since I heard her sing several months ago in LA. And this week I realized Jolie Holland, a true old-soul new blues/Americana artist of the day, included it on her latest album 'Pint of Blood.' Both make it their own—Rodriguez sweet and reflective and a bit more loyal to the origianl; Holland, haunting, howling and slower in tempo— while retaining both their own and the song's respective souls. Good stuff. Check 'em out:

Artist Interview: Phillip Rosenberg on Songwriting as Practice

2011-08-12T11:24:00.000-07:00

Phillip Rosenberg wrote me regarding my thoughts on practice and music the same week I happened to be in Southern California. A songwriter who had spent time honing his craft in Nashville before moving to Joshua Tree, Phillip had recently began blogging about approaching song-making as one might approach their zafu or yoga mat, that is as a spiritual practice or ritual rather than something with a definitive endpoint. We met up a couple days later at Kulak's Woodshed for the weekly community open mic, where I heard a bit of his 'Rags & Bones' music live. I found his literate songwriting to be grounded as much in the contemplative as everyday living and evocative of both Leonard Cohen and John Prine. He later expanded on his process with Bird in the Tree:

Q: How do you define practice?

PR: Practice is a discipline. It’s something that you devote yourself to and also a form of devotion, if you’ve got the right daily practice. At different times I’ve tried sitting meditation and breath-work in an attempt to quiet my incessant interior chatter, but lately songwriting interests me as a different sort of practice. Songwriting might be a way to peel away layers of defense and bravado and open to a sacred space where vulnerability, honesty and acceptance reside.

I’m at the beginning of this inquiry so I can’t say too much about it right now. I would be interested in hearing the experience of others traveling this path.

Q: Name your early musical influences?

PR: Elvis, Dylan, Lennon/McCartney, Leonard Cohen, Paul Simon. These are the shoulders I’m standing on. I notice, in retrospect, that they each challenged the mainstream culture at the time and pushed the envelope. They redefined our expectations of popular music. I was twenty when I purchased The Songs of Leonard Cohen and listened to “Suzanne” over and over again. There was something mysterious about this woman and this song, but I couldn’t define it. I knew “Suzanne” took an approach to writing that was unfamiliar to me, one that I had to learn. I suppose I’ve been working on that project ever since.

Q: Who or what inspires you now?

PR: It’s hard to outgrow Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan, but Tom Waits comes to mind because he speaks the evocative language of the poet, a language rich in metaphor. In the song “Time,” for example, Waits creates unforgettable images: “Napoleon is weeping in a carnival saloon.” This style of image-heavy, non-linear, multi-layered writing seems to point toward something important that each of us can interpret in a personal way. This sort of writing inspires me.

John Prine and Guy Clark are songwriting elders whose songs I love and learn from. I’ve also been inspired and influenced by some of the great Music Row writers in Nashville. They are consummate craftsmen. I’m a big fan of Bobby Braddock who wrote the Tracy Lawrence cut “Time Marches On.” Braddock manages to tell the story of one family through five decades in 3 minutes and four seconds.

Gary Burr, Don Schlitz, Matraca Berg, Gretchen Peters, Jeffrey Steele and Craig Wiseman are just a few of the really brilliant writers working in Nashville today. Their craftsmanship is impeccable and I’ve learned a lot from studying their work.

Q: How did you get to Nashville, and why and when did you leave?

PR: I was a framing contractor in Atlanta and a closet songwriter. In 1993, I started the local chapter of the Nashville Songwriters Association International as part of their regional workshop program and began to take songwriting more seriously. I’d just gotten divorced and was reevaluating what I wanted to do, as the poet Mary Oliver puts it, with “this one wild and precious life.” Nashville is a songwriting Mecca and I was wearing out Interstate 75 driving to Nashville for workshops and networking. I wanted to put myself in proximity to that kind of energy, history, and talent.

Nashville and Country music attracted me partly because country artists have historically looked to outside writers for material. This is changing and there have been other shifts in the industry. I often find the politics of country music objectionable and the subject matter too limited. When I decided to perform my own songs, living in Nashville was no longer a necessity.

My wife introduced me to Joshua Tree, which is an amazing community of creative people. We moved here in 2008. The desert is a great environment for writing, with minimal distractions. The Internet makes geography less important and here I’m able to utilize the craftsmanship and knowledge of the forms that I learned in Nashville to write songs that can hold my interest.

Q: Can you describe a 'typical' day in Joshua Tree

PR: I’m usually up at around 5:30. I read for an hour or so, and then my wife and I drink coffee together. We live in a small cabin on 5 acres in the high desert so there are chores. In the mornings I water the new mesquites and cottonwoods we planted in the spring and I put out water for the birds and critters. I make my wife breakfast, pack her lunch, and send her off to the office. Once the two cats are ensconced on their respective pillows-of-honor, I begin work. Work starts with an hour or so of vocal exercises because I have found that the more my voice can do, the more interesting the melodies become.

I spend some time on-line finding new artists and songs I like. My website is now up and running so I have to navigate those new demands and decide how much time to spend on them. It’s still so new that I struggle to keep from looking at my stats every 10 minutes. When I can’t put it off any longer, I have to start writing or I start to despise myself. I write about 4 hours a day. I usually have one or two things I’m finishing up or rewriting and three or four new ideas in various stages of development that are vying for my time. I’m not always consistent. Writing every day is a challenge I’m still trying to meet.

The fun part, where the muses swoop down with a big payload, comes when I go off to our trailer once a month or so for 3 or 4 days at a time. There’s no electricity and no neighbors. At the trailer there’s only walking and writing. I use a camping headlamp to see the paper at night. What shows up in these intense outings never disappoints and provides the material I work on for the next few weeks at home.

Q: What can audiences expect from you musically in the next year?

First of all, my audience can expect new songs. The writing is moving deeper into Rags and Bones territory and revealing more of the landscape along the way. What I’m writing now is in the same vein as “Song of the Bricoleur” and “Gone”— songs that speak to what I feel roiling under the surface both personally and in the larger culture.

The new blog is already attracting some interesting comments and I will continue to develop that as a forum for conversation about both the craft and the soul of songwriting. Lastly, I’m looking for a producer and hope that next year will include a compelling recording of Rags and Bones songs.

For more information on Phillip's music, visit his website: http://www.ragsandbonesmusic.com

Vegetable Love: CSA's & Farmer's Market Week

2011-08-09T11:29:00.000-07:00

Weekly delivery

Watermelon juice

I don't have room and, admittedly, attention, for a garden. But that has nothing to do with my love of fresh fruit and vegetables. In India, I loved how the vendors would pedal through the neighborhood streets selling papayas and pineapples, tomatoes and 'ladyfingers' from bike-born carts. I didn't love that there was really only one 'organic' farmer's market where a handful of farmers sold out their offerings in the first 15 minutes of the market's 'hours.' In Northern California, of course, I'm spoiled: Farmer's Markets every day of the week (and hey, it's National Farmer's Market Week), a high level of awareness for organics and a wealth of Community Supported Agriculture farms and services that make it ever-so easy for lazy and/or too-busy people like myself have the bounty of the season delivered each week. I'm a recent devotee of the CSA box subscription: fresh peppers, garlic, basil, watermelon and other surprises as the season dictates. Congruent with my allegiance to the CSA has been a refound infatuation for my juicer. Do you know how lovely fresh, and toast worthy Watermelon Juice is? Yeah!

August Music Calendar: in SF & Thereabouts

2011-08-04T11:51:00.000-07:00

I've been reflective around the house, firing up my juicer, rearranging furniture, writing new songs, relearning some songs I forgot I wrote. It's foggy and I'm gearing up for a month of weekend gigs around the Bay Area, including some new-to-me venues. Won't you come out?

Saturday, August 6th, 2011

50 Mason Social Club

7-10pm

50 Mason
San Francisco California 94501

Friday, August 19th, 2011

The Blue Macaw

Spirit Vibrations Presents Deborah Crooks, Billy D & the Boys, T& TBD - 9pm

2565 Mission Street
San Francisco California 94112

Price: $10

Saturday, August 20th, 2011

A'roma Roasters

Deborah Crooks & Kwame Copeland - 8pm

Santa Rosa California 95401

Saturday, August 27th, 2011

Lovely Bella's @ Viracocha

Lovely Bellas - 5pm-1am

998 Valencia St, San Francisco, CA

Price: $5

Great night of music with Kristina Bennet, Deborah Crooks, Lindy LaFontaine, Sonia Rao and many more. I play at 7:40pm.

Southern California: Perspective

2011-07-25T19:08:00.000-07:00

I seem to find it impossible to appreciate my life without taking a trip somewhere to look at it from a distance. Yes, I know I went to India late last year and should be over it, but I'm not (in fact, I'm plotting my return, but that's another topic altogether). While I haven't been crossing international borders of late, I've definitely been casing the US West Coast in a combo-plate tour of gigs and friends houses and various Ashtanga studios along the way. I saw characters from various chapters of my life that span a couple of decades (friends who'd actually met my parents and/or been to my long-ago wedding) and spent time with people that are very much a part of the here and now.
I think part of this penchant for real-time, real-life life-mapping is a reaction to all the time spent online. Remember when you read the newspaper instead of blogs or Tweets? Or called someone instead of texting or DMing? Weird, huh? Anyhow, per usual, I closed out the latest trip with some time on the beaches of Southern California. I walked up and over a hill from my friend's beach cottage and onto the sand, appreciating the clear view only the shore can provide.
I hadn't consciously planned it to coincide with the trip, but this past week, I realized, marked a decade since my dad died.
My father's passing was — as anyone who has lost a parent knows — perhaps my real entry into adulthood. While I was relatively young to lose a parent, I wasn't a child: I'd been married (a relatively young act as well) and divorced by that time, and I'd had my first real go at a career. But there was really nothing comparable to his death. This was a real, irrevocable loss. His death marked a sea change.
Because we don't really know what something or someone is to us until they're out of the picture, I learned more about my relationships—to him, to my siblings, to everyone—on the day he died than any amount of therapy or reading or astrology or numerology could purport to reveal. I don't know that this has made me a 'better' person. And I can assure you not every choice I've made since has been wise, but I do see how with that understanding—of death, of impermanence, of how I related (or didn't) to others—I was much freer to make many choices than I would have done otherwise.
Soonafter he died, I set about unwinding a compass that had been set more based on his influence (not all bad, mind you) than my own instinct. This would mean several years without really having a clear compass! (Again, an understanding that comes only with hindsight) But in the weeks and months after he died, I bought a guitar and began to own my own songs...and I flew to New York to study yoga with a master yoga teacher whose instruction I use as a guide each day.
A lot has happened in 10 years—including more loss, more gain, and more lessons of all stripe— and I can't really say what it all means...which likely only means there's more to come! Here's to the next chapters....

NW x LA: Artichokes, Carmeggedon & Wine & Song

2011-07-18T16:47:00.000-07:00

The Back Gate stage is a lovely room

Amid set-up at The Trip

Wine & Song in Pasadena

Kwame gets the light in PTown

It's been a busy month with little time at home: an unofficial West Coast Tour kind of ...occurred. The time in the Northwest was amazing. Lovely hosts in Eugene, Portland and Seattle; warm, fun gigs and general music making with friends and family all around, including a new discovery in the music community that is Artichoke Music. Lovers of acoustic songwriters take note of this one-two store and stage. In between, there was some time for a bit of yoga and a bit of, yes, crabbing ...Now I'm in LA, where I've thus far experienced the bust (and benefits) of 'Carmeggedon,' talked with Swoops at Swoop's World Radio, revisited the friendly stage at Viento y Agua and enjoyed a day at the beach. And the week is young! Next official appearance is Wednesday in Pasadena as part of Brad Colerick's Wine & Song Series. I'm sharing the bill with the wonderful Aireene Espiritu. If you're in these parts, do say hello.

Wednesday, July 20th, 2011

Firefly Bistro

Brad Colerick's Wine & Song Series - 7pm

1009 El Centro Street
Pasadena California 910

The TRIP Santa Monica

2011-07-11T14:47:00.000-07:00

We had a fun time playing the TRIP, a truly neighborhood bar in Santa Monica a few months back as part of Hollowbody LA's Solidbody Fridays Series. So we're happy to return July 15 to play a set of bluesy Americana for the So Cal crew. Friends in the 'hood or in LA for the weekend. Come on down! This is great little bar and terrific venue. You're going to enjoy this!

Friday, July 15
8:00 Deborah Crooks
10:00 Mangogna's Band
11:00 The Short Eyes
12:00 Bloodshrunk Shenanigans

Also, TRiP has installed a live streaming web cam. When acts play, their set can be viewed worldwide at
www.tripsantamonica.com/live. If you're out of town, tune in! If you're in town, step away from the mouse and come on down to the show!
(works best with the latest Internet Explorer, may not fully function with other browsers. Also seems to work on i-phones)

FREE street parking.. 21+, Print the poster and make admission a friendly $6. Would love to see everyone there!
2101 Lincoln Blvd, Santa Monica CA 90405, Just South of Pico and the 10.

July 10 in Berkeley: Some Barefoot Punk Grass/Americana for Your Afternoon

2011-07-09T14:47:00.000-07:00

Sunday, July 10th, 2011

Starry Plough

Dirt Floor + Kate Burkart + Deborah Crooks - 3pm

3101 Shattuck Avenue
Berkeley California 94705
US (510)841-2082

I'll literally just be getting home from the NW junket. Come hang out and listen to some fun music in Berkeley's neighborhood pub. A special all-ages matinee.

KYRS 92.3FM Interview: CrossRoads Radio

2011-07-03T08:00:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be talking with Bob Rice at KRYS in Spokane, WA today, July 3 between 2 &3pm during his Crossroads Show. Tune in to 92.3FM!...

Also on the airwaves, Don Campau featured 'Blink' on the July edition of No Pigeonholes Radio and Dutch Roots Radio has been playing 'Off Sides.'

Artist Interview: Francesca Lee

2011-06-27T10:10:00.000-07:00

I was delighted to see Francesca Lee at a recent show, where I got caught up on her latest projects and work with Bread & Roses— an organization that brings music to institutionalized and otherwise isolated-from-the-mainstream populations. Francesca's having a great year--in addition to being passionate about her job, one of her songs was included on the BayVibes Songwriters Unplugged CDs, and she recently released a lovely video of her tune 'Paper Hearts.'

Q: How do you describe your music? Do you remember writing your first song?
FL: I often describe my music as introspective alt/indie pop. My inspiration for songs comes from the emotions I feel, my observations and personal experience. The songs can be played with a full band or with just me on piano or guitar. I have a poetic style of a folk singer, a voice that has a lot of jazz influence but a very contemporary pop aspect in my music. I started writing music when I was 15 years old, and [my first song] was titled "Fade Away." I recorded my first demo in Texas in an analog recording studio with a country session band. One of the band members compared my style at the time to Joni Mitchell. That was such a wonderful compliment to hear at the age of fifteen years old and it's probably those words that planted the seed in me.

Q: Describe your writing process: Do you wait for the muse or sit down and say, 'ok, today a new song?' Has your process changed much since you starting writing?

FL: I would have to say that I am the type of songwriter that does need the inner muse to get into the creative flow. I write from a very personal place so it is important for me to spend less time thinking and more feeling when I am in the creative process. When I haven't written a song in a while it usually takes me a couple of days of just playing the piano or guitar before I even get into my flow, and in a week I might actually have a song. However, it usually takes me a couple of songs I would never show to anyone until I finally start writing one that I know has got something really special to it. My writing process has changed a little since I began writing. Nowadays I hear so much more when I'm writing a song. I work with drum beats, write parts for other players and instruments, orchestrate harmonies and have ideas for production when I'm writing a song.

Q: Tell us about your work at Bread & Roses...

FL: I started working as a show producer for Bread & Roses in 2010. Bread & Roses is a amazing non profit that was founded by Mi Mi Farina in 1974. Our mission is to bring hope and healing through live music to people in isolated circumstances. We produce 600 free shows a year in places like drug rehabs, hospitals, convalescent homes, homeless shelters, jails and centers for the developmentally disabled. All of our musicians volunteer their time simply because they believe that music has the power to heal. I absolutely love what I do. It feels so good to wake up every morning and know that I am making a difference in peoples lives and through one of things I love most: MUSIC.

Q How has your recent appointment at Bread & Roses affected your music, or has it?
FL: It has affected me a lot as a performer in many positive ways. I book around 15 to 17 shows a month so you can imagine all the music I am exposed to on a regular basis. In addition to working as a producer, I also perform frequently for Bread & Roses. I've performed at drug rehabs, juvenile detentions, mental-health facilities, homeless shelters as well as homeless teen programs. When you perform Bread & Roses shows you really have to know the art of connecting with your audience and sometimes it can be challenging. This is such good practice for anyone wanting to pursue a career as a performer. I have found that my stage presence and overall performance has grown so much since my work with Bread & Roses. I feel the most comfortable I've ever felt as a singer, songwriter and performer.

Q You recently released a video? How was that process compared to making a record?

FL: Yes, I recently released my new music video for my song "Paper Hearts" off my album The Pieces Left. The video was produced by Michael Colema n who is a very talented SF Bay Area filmmaker. I met Michael through KFOG when I was performing live at Gordon Biersch in San Jose for the KFOG morning show. I love Michael's work and felt that he really brought out the vision of my music. The process of making a music video was a little different then making a record. I think the biggest challenge was switching my role as a songwriter to actress. I have a little acting experience but not much. My video was different then just a girl with a piano being filmed because we actually had a story line. We filmed in some extreme weather conditions as well, even though you can't tell in the video. I was so cold when we filmed the second half of the video that my fingers were almost frozen. My sister Erika worked as my makeup artist during the shoot and thankfully she had a jacket for me between shots. Film directors will do anything to get that perfect shot!

Q What can audiences & fans expect from Francesca Lee in 2011?

FL: A live performance of 3 songs that will be premiered on Live at Bay 6 on Harwood Podcast this July.

For more information about Francesca, visit http://www.francescaleemusic.com; for Bread & Roses please visit http://www.breadandroses.org

Laurel Village Summer Solstice Music Festival- 6/25/11

2011-06-23T12:35:00.000-07:00

"Inspired by Fete de la Musique in France, where both amateur and professional musicians play in the streets on the summer solstice, the Laurel Summer Solstice Music Festival will take place on the street of MacArthur Blvd. and other venues throughout the Laurel District on June 25th, 2011." — Laurel Village Association

I'm looking forward to being a part of this now-annual event in Oakland's Laurel District. From 9am til dusk, the District's businesses will be hosting a variety of musical acts in cafes, bookstores, outside and in 6 sites along MacArthur Boulevard, between 35th Avenue and High Street. I'll be kicking off the Fest with a morning performance at World Ground Cafe. Come grab a coffee and say hello.

World Ground Cafe

Deborah Crooks @ Laurel Summer Solstice Festival - 9-10am

3726 MacArthur Boulevard
Oakland California 94619
USA (510) 482-2933

Price: Free

In the Shaman's Den: Meeting Frank Moore

2011-06-21T11:11:00.000-07:00

In a seeming other lifetime ago, while living in Boulder, Colorado, I enrolled in several writing classes at The Naropa Institue. Naropa is the first Buddhist-accredited college in the nation, and along with leading the edge of contemplative education, it is home to the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics.
At the time I was taking classes at Naropa, I was working as a journalist, competing in cycling races and living with my upstanding husband in a lovely home not far from downtown. Life was great, really, but something inside I couldn't name was a bit restless. While I had always wrote and dabbled in art & music most of my life, I was pretty clueless about what it was to really be an artist, and how spirituality, however you practice, is part and parcel of that deal.
At Naropa; however, I was thrown into that world, if for only a few hours each week, where the messages of the unconscious were heeded and first thought was best thought. This was a school founded by Beat Poet leaders Alan Ginsberg and Anne Waldman. Seeing these committed and brave artists at the local coffeehouse, or in the grocery store, as well as in class and on stage showed me how the mundane could be, and was, sacred. My world view soon began to crack open a bit...and my life soon looked much different than the Boulder postcard I had created.
Now, years later, I count that time as hugely pivotal to leading me on the road to finding a voice and spiritual practices that support living both authentically and expressively. Even though I know this is a long road, I've been forgetting this. It's easy for some of us to get lost in the ordinary.
But lo, a visit to Frank Moore's Shaman's Den was added to the gig calendar some months back. I did not know this would be the thing to jar me back awake to some of these hard-learned lessons. Ostensibly, my trip to the the Den was simply the performance of the week, a podcast taping for Frank's www.LUVeR .com radio where I'd perform a set of my songs along with guitarist Kwame Copeland. I've been doing a fair amount of this sort of thing, and while I'd prepared my set list and rehearsed, I hadn't done much research on Frank. I liked that LUVeR stood for Love. Underground. Visionary. Revolution., and I expected a groovy experience, but I got much more, including a well-timed shot of inspiration regarding what it means to take on your art...and live it.
Sunday was a gorgeous summer day, and we knew as soon as we pulled up to LUVeR headquarters on the Berkeley/Albany boarder that something special was going on. Several rainbow-painted vehicles were parked outside a well-tended garden, filled with avian statuary and glow-light peace sign, in front of a brightly painted house. Our sound engineer Mikee greeted us, assistant Linda offered us freshly brewed mint tea and we set up our guitars, noticing art on the walls, 'Frank Moore for President' T-shirts, as well as photos of a joyous looking man in a wheelchair.
This was Frank, who, despite having been born with cerebral palsy, which renders him unable to walk and talk, has written numerous books, a wealth of poetry, painted, acted, played in punk rock bands and busted probably every boundary there is as a performance artist exploring 'eroplay.' Annie Sprinkle counts him as a mentor; an NEA artist, Moore was among the artists Jesse Helms targeted as 'obscene.'
The facts of Frank's extensive body of work is pretty fucking amazing really, even if performance art isn't your thing, which dawned on me as the afternoon progressed. I was in the living room of someone who was the real deal in the bravery/edge-riding/originality department.
(Mostly) confined to a wheelchair, Frank greeted us with a smile and, 'speaking' with the help of a pretty nifty laser-operated painted 'keyboard. and Linda, hosted our Folk/Rock/Americana performance with grace and a very large heart. After we played, he proceeded to interview me about my work, asking about Buddhism, music, writing and travel. After explaining a bit about why I liked the more collectively minded perspective of India, he pulled out a poem he'd written for me to read about Tribal artistry, a visionary call to action. While Frank's performance work is, and can be, shocking for it's no holds barred exploration of human physicality and connection, his writings have been largely concerned with the possibilities in art and performance, and cultural subversion. Ultimately, they're calls to connection, and love, rather than isolation.
Buddhist guidance has led me to believe that our lives hardships often point us to our life's mission. Frank has clearly heeded his mission. Lucky me to cross his path.

"Being in a non-normal body has made it clear to me that life is a process of performance. My body and my attitudes toward life break taboos and change things even by my just sitting in a fancy restaurant. A sexy woman, Linda is feeding me, laughing, having a good time. Peas and beets and mashed potatoes are running down my matted beard. For me and Linda, it is just everyday life. But for the up-tight, high-class society lady at the next table, it is a terribly gross, disgusting attack on her neat clean reality. I cough, loud and long. A knife cuts the normal world. A young homely girl at another table thinks, "If he can have fun, why can't I?" In this way, I have always been a performer." — Franke Moore, Art of A Shaman

10 things I'm happy about this June

2011-06-17T14:23:00.000-07:00

Some things I love about June thus far (In no particular order):

1) The sun. I think I'm one of those Seasonally Affective Disorder Folks. The sun has finally come out from hiding in the Bay Area.
2) I started the month seeing an Iron & Wine show. A great start!
3) I got clued into the cool fundraising events that Savory Thymes does in Mill Valley ( Check out their calendar!) at a benefit for the Kiss the Cook & Farmer Too TV series (check it out too)
4) Amid the kissing of cooks and farmers, we won a subscription to Full Belly Farm's CSA program. Can I say how awesome it is to pick up a box of freshly picked vegetables each week?
5) There's some great live music & community happenings in Alameda, particularly at Speisekammer which routinely books gypsy jazz, swing and country acts, et. al. with serious chops.
6) Happy gigs. My good fortune to be playing around the Bay & up and down the coast this summer.
7) Happy yoga. Both assisting/adjusting & practicing. I'm learning lots. On the practice front, I was instructed to work on my back bends when I left Mysore in February... four months later some of the work maybe bearing fruit. ...Or it could be the sun. Whatever, I'll take it!
8) Green is not a bad color for toenails...especially if you can go a day without wearing socks
9) You can pre-order Gillian Welch's long awaited new CD The Harrow & The Harvest which comes out June 28.
10) I seemed to have gotten through the lunar eclipse relatively unscathed.

June is Jumpin Calendar Check: Peri's Fairfax

2011-06-13T11:19:00.000-07:00

June 14 @ Peri's in Fairfax, poster by Misisipi Mikee

After a sweet time at Yoshi's Lounge Sunday, I'm gearing up for the rest of this gig-busy month that's concentrated in the San Francisco Bay Area. Yay! First up for the next round of shows is this Tuesday, when I venture back to Marin County to play at Peri's in Fairfax for a full-band gig. Nestled deep in the heart of Marin, there's always a lot going on musically in Fairfax and Peri's has been holding down a corner of that vibe for a while. We open for a rocking project called Happy Idiot and I expect a good relaxed time.

Coming up: Sunday, June 19, I guest on Berkeley LUVeR Radio cast: LOVE UNDERGROUND VISIONARY REVOLUTION. Tune in for a live performance.

Bay Vibes & Sonic Zen Songwriter's Unplugged 6/12: Aireene Espiritu, Deborah Crooks & Utah Girl

2011-06-09T11:44:00.000-07:00

Utah Girl

Aireene Espiritu

I'm super delighted to share one of my favorite gigs—the Bay Vibes & Sonic Zen Songwriter's Unplugged Series—with several of my favorite artists, Aireene Espiritu and Utah Girl (aka Amy MacClain and Jason Cole) at Yoshi's Lounge in San Francisco, Sunday June 12, 2011. I've known Aireene and Amy for a good while, sharing shows and cheering on one another's work over years, and everyone is pretty much cooking with heat right now in their respective creative lives. I'll be playing with the trio and perhaps a special guest or two. It's gonna be a fine night of rootsy Americana, folk and rock. Even if I wasn't completely biased, I'd say come to this show!
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Bay Vibes & Sonic Zen present
Songwriter's Unplugged at Yoshi's Lounge
1330 Fillmore St., San Francisco, CA
8pm-10:30pm

Deborah Crooks

$7 All ages, kitchen open till 9pm

Gillian Welch @ The Mystic Theater

2011-06-03T08:42:00.000-07:00

For whatever reason, the stars aligned for me to see a wealth of great performers over the span of 6 days. Rickie Lee Jones @ Davies, touring Indian Classical musicians Vikash and Prabhash Maharaj at a house concert, ace steel player Bobby Black playing old time with The Saddle Cats at Speisekammer, Gillian Welch in Petaluma @ The Mystic Theater and, yes, and, Iron & Wine at the Warfield. It's like I've been in a warm sonic bathtub all week.
If I put aside everything, I could write a tome about each, but I'm still processing it all. So for the moment, I'll assert that Gillian Welch really is a master songwriter for our times, managing to express the past, present & hints of the future in concise and complex song snapshots that are very of the moment. Sans opening act, she and David Rawlings took the stage with their guitars and voices and bowled the crowd, who already loved them, over. The duo played songs from their full catalog impeccably: Rawlings a soloing madman on his guitar; Welch a study of understated vocal and rhythmic perfection. Included in their two-sets where Revival's Orphan Girl & By the Mark, the bulk of Time (The Revelator) including it's transcendent title track; Soul Journey's Miss Ohio & No One Knows My Name (a song that is just perfect in my book) as well as some tunes to be included on her upcoming CD The Harrow and the Harvest. Rawlings also sang a couple tunes from his A Friend of A Friend, including 'Sweet Tooth' which is rabbit hole (in a good way) of a song that's clever, complex...and funny. But sticking with Gillian for now, here's a video of Time (The Revelator).

Bay Vibes/Sonic Zen Songwriters Unplugged Showcase & CD Release@ Yoshi's

2011-05-30T12:32:00.000-07:00

BayVibes & Sonic Zen Records continue its run of great songwriter showcases, the next up being tonight, May 30, 2011 at Yoshi's San Francisco. This time there's a CD release added to the already dynamic mix:
5/30 Songwriters Unplugged Showcase IV & CD Release
Featuring: Brett Hunter & Tara J King, Emily Moldy, Aaron Blyth & Kerry Wing, Sonia Rao
presale tickets here

Rickie Lee Jones Redux

2011-05-28T13:31:00.000-07:00

The rep from SF Jazz* requested 'absolutely no video or photos, please' before introducing the evening's honored guest to the stage of Davies Symphony Hall. I don't know if I was the only person in the crowded hall with an iPhone who heeded this request; nonetheless, I have no photos of Rickie Lee Jones, eccentric and exultant in her pink beret, pajama- esque pants and platform heels, as she took the stage with a crack band to perform her first two albums more than 30 years after their release. Nor can I post any video or recordings of her voice — primal, in control, emotion and hair raising — as she scatted and vamped her way through the set whose order she mixed up according to her whim (and often her band's surprise). I can tell you she is a master: songwriter, mood-catcher, musician and performer. The crowd loved her. Moody, demanding, a little grouchy, she was having a great time, directing her band on the spot, enjoying their generous solos (her horn section was worth the price of admission itself) and giving it all to each song (she had no problem stopping a tune after an ever-so-slightly lackluster first verse to take it again from the top and get it right), despite how many times she may have played them over her rich and varied career. I think it was the 4th or 5th time I've seen her live in the past 25 years and, like every time before, she blew me away with her talent and energy.

*It was heartening to hear that SF Jazz was enjoying its best, most well-attended season in all of its 28 years. They recently broke ground on its new center for jazz.

Ashtanga Yoga Ibiza's Anurag Vassallo

2011-05-25T09:50:00.000-07:00

One of the coolest extra benefit of practicing Ashtanga Yoga is the amazing international community one meets along the way. I crossed paths with Ashtanga Yoga Ibiza studio owner, teacher and devoted student Anurag Vassalo in Mysore, India last year. A one-time competitive skiier whose yoga practice has helped her work through skiing injuries, she met first met Sri Pattahbi Jois in India in 1996. She recently answered some questions about running her Ashtanga studio in Spain.
Q When did you get the idea to start Yoga Ashtanga Yoga Ibiza?
AV: I started practicing and friend [were] asking for classes. This was long ago [and] there was no Ashtanga Yoga here in Ibiza. I got the idea to start Ashtanga Yoga Ibiza, and this happened after few years.

Q Who do you count as important teachers and/or mentors? How does their guidance inform Yoga Ibiza?
AV: Sri K.Pattabhi Jois is my inspiration, but also other senior teacher [who were his students] were very important for me and for my practice. Graeme Northfield came many times to do workshops at Ashtanga Yoga Ibiza and I am very grateful for the energy, the enthusiasm the commitment and the guidance he brought to the Shala.

Q: What would you recommend to someone wanting to start a Yoga center or studio?
AV: "Do your practice and all is coming!" — Pattabhi Jois (Guruji)

Q: What kind of workshops do you have coming up? Will you be offering anything new and different this year?
AV: For Easter we had a 2- week workshop with Graeme Northfield. In August we have a big surprise. I prefer to keep silence till when is ready to confirm.

Q: How long have you been visiting Mysore and how was your recent trip?
AV: First time I went to Mysore was 1996. Last was this year in January— I just came back!

For more information about Anurag and Ashtanga Yoga Ibiza, please visit http://www.ashtangayogaibiza.com/

Bird's Nest Jazz Parties

2011-05-23T13:28:00.000-07:00

The weekend came with one of those happy, local discoveries: Bird's Next Jazz Parties in Oakland. One of my voice teachers, the master vocalist and jazz singer Faith Winthrop was performing at the concert series curated and run by singer and host Cathi Walkup. What a treat to sit in a loft living room with a bunch of other music lovers as Faith entertained and wowed us — she is really one of the best and most erudite singers I've ever heard live — with a set based on the work of Mabel Mercer and Johnny Mercer. Backed by Art Khu on piano and Chuck Bennet on bass, it was truly a GREAT afternoon of music (and it included a break for a home-cooked meal!). Faith mentioned some more local shows coming up in the next 6 months: check her website for info. Likewise, Bird's Nest presents its listening concerts 'in support of jazz community, with the finest in music, food & friendship' each month.

Guitar Towns: Pieta Brown & Carrie Rodrigues @ McCabe's; Chuck Prophet @ Mystic Theatre

2011-05-14T10:11:00.000-07:00

A bit of confusion over when the Jois Yoga workshop ended left me with an extra day in Los Angeles last week. Not to worry, I had a good excuse to practice more yoga and catch a show at the fabled McCabe's Guitar Shop. McCabe's has "The largest selection of stringed things to make music with in California." It's also hosted a whose-who of roots, folk & Americana musicians on it's 'backroom' stage during the past 50+ years (a huge list including Mose Allison, Beck, The Bangles, Bruce Cockburn, Eliza Gilkyson, Emmylou Harris). Guitars, ukuleles, violins of every incarnation and age filled the walls. It was pretty jaw-dropping to be surrounded by so much musical possibility. The fine collection of instruments extended into the performance space (the host joking "if there's a fire, please grab a guitar of the wall and head for the nearest exit.") The stage room reminded me of the old Sweetwater Saloon crossed with the old Freight & Salvage, and provided a warm and intimate, lets-see-how-it's-done setting for the audience.
Conveniently, the venerable show was located only a couple of miles from my host's home in Santa Monica (Minimal driving in LA is always a plus). And, not one, but two acts whose show I wanted to revisit were playing that night: Pieta Brown and Carrie Rodrigues. Both songwriters are well pedigreed roots-Americana musicians and were well-matched to tour together. Pieta is the daughter of Greg Brown and his influence was unmistakable. Her writing style was sweet, direct and real. Dressed in jeans and cap, with little make-up, she won us over with her pure authenticity, solid guitar playing and songs about growing up in rural Iowa. That said, her voice and singing style were equally evocative of Bob Dylan's as much as her father's.

Rodrigues, a native of Austin, is also the daughter of a songwriter, David Rodrigues. She was discovered as a teenage violin student and went on to tour with Lucinda Williams, Chip Taylor & Escoveda. Now barely in her 30s (my guess), she's an impressive list of recording credits and a polished surety with her violin, mandobird and tenor guitar. Backed by a pedal steel player whose name I missed, her set was full of tales of the lovelorn, love-wronged and lovestruck including "She Ain't Me," and my fave of the night, "Got Your Name on It." She was suffering from a cold so her voice wasn't at full power but she soldiered through a solid set before inviting Pieta back up to sing a tune together.
Flash-forward a week, and I'm driving up to Petaluma with Kwame to see one of San Francisco's best guitarist-songwriters Chuck Prophet. Prophet has an impressive discography and a wicked way with a Fender guitar. He's also one of (my hero) Alejandro Escoveda's pals and co writers. Prophet—his second song of the night was"Always a Friend" from Escoveda's "Real Animal" (whose songs were all Escoveda/Prophet co-writes). Anyhow, the band just rocked overall. Prophet is truly a wizard with a guitar, and his bandmates, including notably Stephanie Finch (guitar/keys/vocals) and James Deprato (slide guitar) provided solid foils for his practiced musicianship. Prophet reached across his deep catalog for the set, doing "Monkey in the Middle," "Gone" and "You & Me, Baby (Holding On)." Likewise, he and DePrato did an impressive 'history of electric guitar' that drew on just about every well-known lick since the instrument was invented. Finch also sang a song from her recent, Prophet-produced CD "Cry Tomorrow" that showcased her strong yet sweet, vintage-country voice. Nice show.

So Cal: Encinitas, Carlsbad & San Diego

2011-05-09T09:15:00.000-07:00

Encinitas or bust

India Street's 'red parquet'

Jenn Franklin & Annelise Lechemenait @ Bar Dynamite

Lucha Libre's veg awesomeness for Cinco de Mayo

It was a sweet couple of weeks in Southern California combining music, yoga & friends. Sharath Rangaswamy— director of the Ashtanga Yoga Institute in Mysore— was in Encinitas, CA leading two weeks of practice at Jois Yoga. I signed up for the second week, which segued nicely from my shows in San Luis Obispo, attendance at the ASCAP expo, LA gig and R&R pit stop in Pasadena. Yes, it was a busy run, so little blogging, but that much more gratitude to hang out with many of the winter Mysore yoga crew who'd flocked to one of San Diego County's coolest beach towns. True to form, after Sharath put us through our paces, 3-hour breakfasts, poolside action and beach walks became the program. Was this Mysore or Goa? No coconuts, cars instead of mopeds, clean feet, and plenty of acai reminded us it was firmly CA. That said, esprit de India prevailed. I was not complaining.
Amid all this I managed a gig May 5, returning to friendly Bar Dynamite in San Diego to share a gig with Jenn Franklin and Anneliste LeChemenait amid their Concrete Gypsies tour. It was extra nice to hear their stellar material live, perform my own set and see some friends from the Bay Area who happened to be in town. Viva So Cal.

Cinco de May @ Bar Dynamite, Ole!

2011-05-04T19:12:00.000-07:00

I will be playing a set at a fun little bar in San Diego on Cinco de Mayo along with two other touring artists, Nashville's Jenn Franklin and Annelise LeCheminant:

Thursday, May 5th, 2011
Bar Dynamite
Songwriters for Cinco de Mayo - 6:00-8pm
1808 West Washington Street

San Diego California 92103-3734
USA (619) 295-8743
Grab a taco at Lucha Libre next door, order a drink and listen in as Jenn, Annelise and myself share our tunes. Ole!

Artist Interview: Samia Shalabi

2011-05-02T11:42:00.000-07:00

I first met Samia Shalabi in Mysore, India, when we both sang back-up kirtan for David Garrigues at a special performance at the Ashtanga Yoga Institute. I soon found out that in addition to singing and practicing yoga, Samia was an accomplished jewelery designer and goldsmith. In Mysore, when she wasn't busy rehearsing or practicing guitar, she was apprenticing with a master goldsmith. I caught up with Samia a bit after she returned home to Seattle.
Q: How and when did you start making jewelry?
SS: In 1999 as part of a one year around the world journey, I flew to India The moment I stepped off the plane, I knew my life would be different. I spent 6 remarkable months traveling around the subcontinent, constantly being bombarded by the challenging experiences of traveling as a woman alone in a very different land. But at the same time realizing how extremely fortunate I was (and still am) to be there. India is full of dichotomies, and as I observed the extreme beauty and complete sadness I became enthralled with all of it. It made my mind go where it had never gone and I realized I could never go back to conforming to the way we do things in the West. I needed to figure out a way to get back to India and continue experiencing and creating relationships, learning from the deep cultures of the many people of India and the world. So, one day, I was in a small desert town on the border of Pakistan and India. A town called, Jaisalmer, I walked into a small shop selling silver jewelry. I went in the shop to buy a ring to remind myself to continue on trying to live my dreams and making it a mission in my life... I came out with the silver ring, along with many many other pieces of jewelry with the idea that I would sell it when I got back to the states and buy another plane ticket to India. Over the next several months my plans became more refined and after traveling to Nepal and Thailand, I arrived home. In a few short weeks, I sold most of the jewelry I had bought and shortly thereafter, in 2001, I started to make jewelry.
Now, over 12 years after my first visit to India, I am making jewelry full time, studying with two master goldsmiths in S. India and still living my dreams and traveling around the world...

Q: What other artists do you count as inspiration/listen to? Who are your important mentors or teachers?
SS: Inspiration… I am inspired by not one or two artists, I am inspired by artists in general, people who take risks to make the world a more beautiful place. People who speak out, who live their dreams, and create, inspire me infinitely. Specifically, my two goldsmith teachers, Krishna Balan and Jay Kumar in India give me so much inspiration. Their complete dedication and deep discipline is amazing to me. They have taught me so much, not only about how to make jewelry, but also about life.

Q: You live in Seattle but travel often; can you say how your home base and your travels, respectively, influence your work?
SS: Home is grounding, it is where I ‘make’ jewelry, it is where the business side of me is. Seattle is where I get it done and get it out there. Traveling is where I am inspired, it’s where I meet the beautiful, wonderful people of the world. My creative side flourishes when I am in new situations and in new places meeting new people. For me, this balance works.

Q: Along with yoga and jewelry design, you make music. How do your practices interact, intersect and or inform one another?
SS: It is all interwoven, and it all brings me to India, my favorite place on earth. I met my jewelry teachers while studying yoga in India and my music is mostly influenced by Indian Raga’s and Bhagan’s. I am so enthralled in all things India, but also like the modern take on it. So, that is what I do and that is how it has mixed in my life. The ancient knowledge and history of India with my own modern twists, and it flowing into my music, yoga and jewelry.

Q: What are you working on now [jewelry and/or music]?
SS: I am busy busy spending my days working on jewelry and evenings and weekends working on music. Hopefully sometime this year we (my husband and I, we make music together) will come out with an LP. We are hoping, for a mix of ancient bhajan’s and our own modern sound of folk with a bit of electronica. Keeping our fingers crossed it will happen!

For more information on Samia's work and her own blog, go to www.karazidesign.com and www.karazidesign.blogspot.com

Walk Like An Egyptian May 7-8

2011-04-30T13:32:00.000-07:00

Zambaleta is my favorite world music education center + in San Francisco. When they say 'world music' they mean it. Inclusive to all forms, folk, gypsy jazz and rock rub shoulders with samba, raga and more.
May 7-8, the school is ring-leading a 2-day "Walk Like An Egyptian" benefit festival in San Francisco packed with great music including music from The Blank Tapes, Buxter Hoot'n, Foxtail Brigade and Quinn DeVeaux. Taking place in the Mission, not far from Zambaleta HQ, expect a part-ay.
"In Egyptian slang, the term 'Zambaleta' is used to describe a spontaneous cacophony. And as we have seen in recent events, zambaletas are not necessarily inconsequential. The Egyptian revolution started with a zambaleta," says founder Mina Girgis. "We hope Zambaleta's spirit of possibility and accessibility continues to impact our community in unforeseen ways."

So Cal: San Luis Obispo x Hollywood x Santa Monica

2011-04-27T09:47:00.000-07:00

I'm on the road, visiting San Luis Obispo for some shows and reconnection with college friends, before heading to LA to attend the ASCAP Conference & play @ THE TRIP in Santa Monica on Friday. I'd love to see you under these sunny skies and original music:

Wednesday, April 27th, 2011

Linnaea's Cafe 7pm 1110 Garden St. San Luis Obispo California 93401

Friday, April 29th, 2011

THE TRIP Hollow Body @ Trip - 8pm 2101 Lincoln Blvd Santa Monica California 90405 Price: $8

Make it Acoustic: Music, Saturday, 4/23 @ Bazaar Cafe

2011-04-20T10:39:00.000-07:00

The Bazaar cafe is perhaps the most songwriter friendly cafe in San Francisco. Home to one of the city's more venerable open mics, it's also one of the first places I ever went public with an orginal song, 'original' being the operative word. The Bazaar is not about cover songs. The Bazaar is about music being made now, by the people that play the songs, live and unplugged, and about creating a space to hear it. So I'm jazzed to be sharing a gig with Kwame Copeland in such a listening room, this coming Saturday, April 23, at 7pm. We'll be swapping acoustic sets of our own tunes— many from our recently released CDs, "Simple Things" (Kwame) and "Other Halves" (Deborah)—backed by some swell accompaniests. Plus the Bazaar has all manner of tasty food & beverages to make you that much more comfortable... and we'd love to see you.
Saturday, April 23, 7-9pm
KCDC: Kwame Copeland & Deborah Crooks
Bazaar Cafe
5927 California St
San Francisco California 94114

Spring Open Studios Continued

2011-04-17T11:41:00.000-07:00

We had a fabulous time playing at Workspace LTD's Spring Open Studios reception on Friday. Good people & truly fine, fine art all around. Between sets, there was a little time to check out some of the artwork. Highlights among many included Delfina's big buddha and the colored pencil compositions of Paul Glenn.

Art in SF: Spring Open Studios at Workspace

2011-04-13T13:48:00.000-07:00

Spring Open Studios at Workspace. Downstairs gallery curated by Dina Pugh, Director of Triple Base Gallery. Reception: April 15th 7-10pm (I'll be adding the musical component :D)
Open Studios: Saturday and Sunday April 16th and 17th, 11am-6pm.

Sun in Seattle: Jesse Sykes, Eugene Wendell... & pie

2011-04-11T11:15:00.000-07:00

Despite my stated desire to stay a little put for a while, I found myself boarding another plane last week. Kwame's brother Kwab, who fronts the band Eugene Wendell & The Demon Rind, was opening for an artist of whom I've been a fan for a number of years Jesse Sykes. It seems I'm supposed to listen to as much rock and roll as possible these days. Thus the gods (and weather) found me flying to Seattle for a quick weekend of listening and taking in a bit of the Northwest. Stumptown Coffee was drunk, High 5 Pie was eaten and I even caught up with one of my Ashtanga/Mysorean kirtankars, Samia, who lives and creates in Seattle. Yeah for the global music & yoga network in action! Plus the rain of the previous month stopped before I got off the plane so the sun was in rare (for those parts) and full glory. Amid the many charms of the city, the motive for the visit transpired at The Tractor Tavern in Ballard. There, serious guitar-man & woman- ship ensued. Jesse was all congeniality at the merch booth but true to form, her dark, moody vibe predominated onstage to good effect. The thick guitars of her band The Sweet Hereafter as well as her haunting vocals continue to deepen and season. And Kwab's band was pure garage rock exuberance & irony. Check 'em all out why don't ya?

April 6 @ Ashkenaz: Save the Ta-Tas

2011-03-31T10:44:00.000-07:00

I've lost too many people to cancer, including my parents and my dear college friend Samantha, to breast cancer. Cancer is not my friend. People researching ways to prevent and eradicate it are! So I'm happy to play in support of GB Records' Breast Cancer Benefit at Ashkenaz, Wednesday, April 6. An event run in conjunction with The Save the Ta-Tas Foundation, another organization committed to keeping women healthy and cancer-free, the night includes a bunch of original Americana, pop, rock and roll by myself as well as Shay Aster, The McGrath Project, Serena and others. Plus our venue, Ashkenaz is a cool, Berkeley institution. I'll be playing with the band shortly after 8pm. Do come. xo, Deborah
April 6, 2011, 8pm Ashkenaz, 1317 San Pablo Ave, Berkeley, CA. $10/$15 door