Read.Eat.Listen: All

Anyone who has practiced traditional Ashtanga yoga has heard "practice and all is coming." It was one of Ashtanga-originator Pattabhi Jois's favorite instructions: a succint way of saying: do your practice first, everything else, the 'all' of life, positive and negative, as well as the fruits of practice, will work themselves out. It's at once an inspiring, maddening and accurate instruction. Inspiring, because when things are hard, who doesn't want to hear that it will change or become clear? Maddening, as this direction is nowhere near a quick fix. And accurate, because, as someone who began Ashtanga during a low, low point in ones life, I've experienced the steady expansion that goes hand-in-hand with regular practice. Even when I've felt pissed, injured, bored, old, lazy, or disappointed with my practice, I know now, over years of coming back to the mat, all (all kinds of all) does come.

This week, quite serendipitously, we had opportunity to stay a few days at Rancho Valencia, a spa resort in San Diego County replete with tennis courts, swimming pools, fine restaurants, olive and citrus orchards, beehives, and multiple swimming pools. Tastefully decorated with original art, our suite was larger than our house and just as comfortable (if not more so!). The only thing missing was our cat...who will likely never forgive us. Hummingbirds buzzed the patio morning and evening, and freshly squeezed orange juice was delivered to our door each morning. A lot of allness! 

Though our every need was taken care of, and there was even a yoga pavilion, I ventured outside the grounds a couple of mornings, to practice at the Ashtanga Yoga Center on the border of Encinitas and Carlsbad. I've made many trips to Encinitas over the years, as it's the first place in the United States that Pattabhi Jois taught when he first came to the States in the 70s, and several teachers have since maintained Ashtanga's strong roots here. I practiced with Jois here in 2002, on one of his many teaching trips, and several times with Sharath Rangaswamy after he took over the reigns from Jois upon his passing.  Likewise, one of Jois's first American students, Tim Miller, has run hid influential Ashtanga Yoga Center here for many years. I was fortunate to practice at his studio this week, my first visit to the Carlsbad location. While the studio is now inland a bit, in one of San Diego County's seemingly omnipresent malls, Miller's big heart and dedication permeates the Center, a practice environment that strikes an admirable balance between friendly, relaxed and focused. 

Read: Oliver Sacks' "On the Move." If you've read any of his other books or articles — "Awakenings" or "The Man Who Mistook His Wife for A Hat"—you know Sacks is brilliant and human, warm and wise, light-hearted and endlessly curious. I'm so glad he sought to pen and complete his memoir "On the Move" which is a beautiful look inside the life and mind of one of our greats.

Eat: "Food is the final frontier [of practice]," wrote another senior Ashtanga teacher, David Garrigues, and this entry, alas, doesn't speak to a fully-tamed frontier (albeit all the food in question is organic). I first tasted hushpuppies as a 10-year-old on my first trip through the deep, southern US. Fried and with a name I thought was funny, the Louisiana-made cornmeal hushpuppies weren't anything like I'd tasted before. I can still remember the wonder I felt at their flavor. But I was only visiting the south and its cuisine. I've seldom come across hushpuppies since (and they're definitely not a dish that fits with my attempts at healthy yoga-practice encouraging eating). Regardless, when I saw "wild ramp and garlic hushpuppies" on the menu at Full of Life Flatbread, the foodie and wine-wise restaurant in Los Alamos where we pit-stopped on our way to San Diego, I had to place an order. They were presented beautifully in a white bowl with yummy green goddess dressing. I was a little underwhelmed by their flavors, but my childhood memory is a hard one to live up to. I'm not complaining. These circa 2015, California versions evoked a strong and happy memory...and went great with the house red, a salad and some of Full of Life's truffle-oil infused cauliflower soup. Yum. 

Listen: Truth be told, we've mainly been listening to ourselves this week, rehearsing our Desert Songs between the yoga and work that brought us here. Nonetheless, we perked up when The Carolina Chocolate Drops came on the radio amid our drive. Modern roots music with a side of gospel, this group is talented, spirited and aware...and no secret. They're at SF Jazz Center in May. 

Points in between: Pit stop in Los Alamos

It's really not a big deal to get from SF to LA. You've got multiple flights and highways to choose from and you can get there in minimal amount of time. But like going anywhere, the getting there can be where the real riches are found. Last week we pointed the car down the 101, chosen because it splits the difference between the speed and monotony of the 5 and the beauty and leisure of the 1.  Per usual, we filled up the hours in the car, reading aloud and listening to the blues station, but we hadn't planned anything along the route, other than fueling the car and ourselves as needed. So a bit of foodie providence found us stopping in Los Alamos, a little town located in Santa Barbara County, aka smack in the middle of wine country. As well as hosting the only surviving depot of the Pacific Coast Railway — Los Alamos was a stagecoach stop in 1876 but got its PCR depot in 1882 — it also contains several notable eateries.

After sussing out the slightly sleepy main street, we somewhat naively wandered into Bell Street Farm with our guitar cases in hand (having been burned hard once, the guitars always come in)  because a) it was open at 4pm and b) it had a sign that said picnic supplies.
"Yay the musicians arrived," a man in a cowboy had exclaimed as we walked in which is always the right thing to say to two people with guitar cases whether they are planning on playing or not. The man in the hat was owner Jamie Gluck, who opened Bell St slightly over a year ago in a former bank, after vacationing in Los Alamos for years. He handed us menus full of farm-to-table goodness (salads, soups, fresh baked bread, pulled chicken and port, cheese plates...you get the idea), insisted I try the wine he was pouring, and greeted everyone who walked in with equal cheer. We felt like we'd found the party.  While talking to Gluck and the other diners, we happily dined on a couple of exceedingly well-constructed sandwiches. We also met local wine-maker Angela Osborne of Grace Wine Company, who found her way from New Zealand to Los Alamos on a search for the best Grenache. A satisfying pit stop on all counts. If we weren't on the road and playing elsewhere that night, we would have stayed and tried more of the wine.

Nonetheless, before we left, Osborne told us where to find her wine in the East Bay. So last night, with cause to celebrate, we found our way to The Punchdown Wine Bar in downtown Oakland for a glass of her "Tribute to Grace" Grenache. Full of fruity, smokey goodness, it provided a fine toast. Here's to grace!