There's a bird in my neighborhood
He bangs on my windows
Every day last week he would alight
Onto my fire escape, peering in
He going for the plants?
I'd wonder
He'd see me
And fly away
I'd leave the room
back crashing again
Higher up, through to the clear glass
Trying to fly past the curtains, perhaps
Hitting
His little
bird body
again
and
again
I opened the window
To let him in
He didn't come back
Until tomorrow came with a
bang
bang
You are small
Look how well you fit into this big hand
Holding you up in the space of
A fraction of a fraction of a fraction
Of the time it took for us to realize
Tiny lights
Looking down at us
Humbly, winking over light years
A cosmic joke
‘I’m not there’
And when I was,
The thought of you
Did not yet dwarf me
Look how well you fit into this big hand
Holding you up in the space of
A fraction of a fraction of a fraction
Of the time it took for us to realize
Tiny lights
Looking down at us
Humbly, winking over light years
A cosmic joke
‘I’m not there’
And when I was,
The thought of you
Did not yet dwarf me
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
I prefer things to spring naturally, found where they are needed,
which usually means there's an element of surprise. Initial
incongruency. Though if I were to be completely honest, this makes me
shades of uncomfortable. I spent the day aimless. Wandering. Scheduled
and then needed no longer. The vague plan of my life dissolved, I had my
hand unoccupied. I did not decide. Found near a museum, I decided and
entered. Of all the things, this was unexpected. But a perfectly natural
recourse for my seeking some sort of refuge. The Hilton housed a yoga
conference. Boatloads of women in corporate culture yoga wear.
Frustrating. Sterile. Yet a sense of familiarity in friendships I found
again. Brief. A kindness in those others, those, shall we say, compliant
consumers.
I exchanged it for the mausoleum where artists who've ascended can house their lonely parades as finished works, deaf artifacts to live on, ingested by crowds of anonymous faces. I honed in on their possible back stories. I recognized the girl with a deformed head and face from my earlier failed attempt to work at a cafe (one with no electrical outlets or WiFi), she reappeared in the halls of the museum. Her grey-haired escort pushing her along in a wheelchair. What are the chances, running into them again? I had thought to myself after seeing her for the first time there in the cafe that I'd like to tell her she's beautiful. Not to be cruel, because it's painfully obvious that she's anything but, but to give her those words that she's maybe never heard. And to say it earnestly. Because I believe there must be some kind of beauty. Even in the most heinously disfigured of humans.
The expo was nothing but a quick interlude. The chance to kill time among people momentarily sure of what they're looking for (a cultural experience of sorts) in a life grossly devoid of certainty. And it was free. Security pushed us out of the galleries back into the city.
The allure of traveling can be found in its sharp honesty. You're confronted with yourself, un-moored, having to admit you don't know where you are, or quite what you're doing. Trading your sense of self as referenced within a culture, for your person as simply a figure in space, ready to find fulfillment as the boundaries dissolve around you. Forcibly, freeingly naive; dependent on a force beyond this carefully-constructed sense of self which, among the unfamiliar, no longer has the currency which once sold you out in exchange for recognition that you are indeed important.
On my way back I decided to let the stories go.
The drum beat found me as I found the rhythm. In an instant all that could be contained was the purity of eyes closed and seeing, shifting hips, pumping chest, sure feet, synchronicity. The sound, a sensation, a sort of indelible truth, a container which poured me out into the primal. My tribe, our energy; my imagination replaced the synthetic carpeting with dirt, earth. And free of substance, of self-importance, we got down, we got high as hell.
I exchanged it for the mausoleum where artists who've ascended can house their lonely parades as finished works, deaf artifacts to live on, ingested by crowds of anonymous faces. I honed in on their possible back stories. I recognized the girl with a deformed head and face from my earlier failed attempt to work at a cafe (one with no electrical outlets or WiFi), she reappeared in the halls of the museum. Her grey-haired escort pushing her along in a wheelchair. What are the chances, running into them again? I had thought to myself after seeing her for the first time there in the cafe that I'd like to tell her she's beautiful. Not to be cruel, because it's painfully obvious that she's anything but, but to give her those words that she's maybe never heard. And to say it earnestly. Because I believe there must be some kind of beauty. Even in the most heinously disfigured of humans.
The expo was nothing but a quick interlude. The chance to kill time among people momentarily sure of what they're looking for (a cultural experience of sorts) in a life grossly devoid of certainty. And it was free. Security pushed us out of the galleries back into the city.
The allure of traveling can be found in its sharp honesty. You're confronted with yourself, un-moored, having to admit you don't know where you are, or quite what you're doing. Trading your sense of self as referenced within a culture, for your person as simply a figure in space, ready to find fulfillment as the boundaries dissolve around you. Forcibly, freeingly naive; dependent on a force beyond this carefully-constructed sense of self which, among the unfamiliar, no longer has the currency which once sold you out in exchange for recognition that you are indeed important.
On my way back I decided to let the stories go.
The drum beat found me as I found the rhythm. In an instant all that could be contained was the purity of eyes closed and seeing, shifting hips, pumping chest, sure feet, synchronicity. The sound, a sensation, a sort of indelible truth, a container which poured me out into the primal. My tribe, our energy; my imagination replaced the synthetic carpeting with dirt, earth. And free of substance, of self-importance, we got down, we got high as hell.
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
5:06am. My eyes open. The smoke alarm in my bedroom has decided to run out of batteries. And every minute or so it informs me of this with a shrill beep. Also, a feral cat is wailing outside my window. I try to decipher the sound, as if my hearing doesn't trust my judgement. Could it be a child? The kid upstairs? Waaaooooooooohhhhhwww. No. Definitely a cat. I imagine it laying belly up on the concrete giving birth. Or being raped from behind. Poor kitty. Beep. Waaaaooohhhwww. It's obviously in distress. Beep. In a flash, the image of my own cat giving birth appears. I have this file stored from 1995, the year I came home from school to play midwife to our cat in my closet, her choice hideaway for delivering kittens into the world. The wailing continues. The sky is still opaque. Though, gradient. Beep. I reach for my phone. 5:06am. My dream keeps playing, not bothering to wait for me, knowing I'll jump back in when I'm ready. Partly anxious to slip back into the stream, worried about losing my place. After another audible wail, I set down the phone, dive back in. The beeping dulls. Half way there, I wonder if these two sounds, piercing and disconcerting, are a something of a sign. I briefly consider shaking off sleep to meditate, feeling as though I'm receiving a wake-up call from beyond. The film I fell asleep to addressed the 2012 global shift. I remember this unsettling feeling the film gave me, my culpability, my contribution to the ecosystem's unraveling. Residue of one world remains as we transition into another. The battery's dead. The alarm sounds. Nature protests. How am I going to help? My grip on material reality loosens. My concern for the cat's welfare turns into a concern for my laundry and that strange street, the building I've moved into. I'm back in my dream. Heavy and blissfully out of control. Puppeteer and puppet at once.
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
I'm standing on a stage
Of fear and self-doubt
It's a hollow play
But they'll clap anyway
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
I'm living in an age
That calls darkness light
Though my language is dead
Still the shapes fill my head
I'm living in an age
Whose name I don't know
Though the fear keeps me moving
Still my heart beats so slow
My body is a cage that keeps me
From dancing with the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
My body is a
My body is a cage
We take what we're given
Just because you've forgotten
That don't mean you're forgiven
I'm living in an age
That screams my name at night
But when I get to the doorway
There's no one in sight
I'm living in an age
That laughs
When I'm dancing
With the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're standing next to me
My mind holds the key
Set my spirit free
Set my spirit free
Set my body free
Set my body free
Set my spirit free
Set my body free
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
Chatting with my good friend Kevin about meditation, forgiveness, negotiating imperfections, letting go, and a very specific way of breathing that got me quite grounded...
Next big talk show??? HA
Next big talk show??? HA
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
by Edgar Allan Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
-------
First published in the March 31, 1849 edition of a Boston-based periodical called Flag of Our Union
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
-------
First published in the March 31, 1849 edition of a Boston-based periodical called Flag of Our Union
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
When alone, I often speak into the silence of my home. For me, it's a kind of meditation, a following of my intuition as words begin to flow from... somewhere. I won't necessarily say they flow from me, although I am drawing from thoughts, themes and feelings in that moment of my life. But the spontaneity and the right-feeling words showing up, one after the other on the doorstep of my tongue and out of my mouth, feels like a practice in letting go, receiving, and giving. The whole 'theme', ethos, if you will, of this blog, this space I've set up on the web is about that -- connecting to something that's purely in the moment and going from there, whether or not you think you know, it's right off the top of your mind... the spot that receives experience and goes with it before 'verifying'. Because really, who is there to verify with but your highest self?
Last night I decided to record one such be-spoke meditation. I consider this something of a 'performance' piece. Part art, part poetry, part guided meditation. It's not really about anyone in particular, but I guess it is inspired by certain people, though really, it's universal.
Well, listener, I guess it will become whatever you hear, feel, think, see.... lemme know
#1 by thetopofmymind
Last night I decided to record one such be-spoke meditation. I consider this something of a 'performance' piece. Part art, part poetry, part guided meditation. It's not really about anyone in particular, but I guess it is inspired by certain people, though really, it's universal.
Well, listener, I guess it will become whatever you hear, feel, think, see.... lemme know
#1 by thetopofmymind
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
Lust is a convenient lie
Love is an inconvenient truth
Everything's more fun when you sing it
That is, of course, unless you're inhibited and/or do not like the sound of your own voice.
____________________________________________
WORK IN PROCESS:
Love is an inconvenient truth
Everything's more fun when you sing it
That is, of course, unless you're inhibited and/or do not like the sound of your own voice.
____________________________________________
WORK IN PROCESS:
CANVAS STATEMENTS (© 2011 thetopofmymind)
TRANSPARENCY IS / IS NOT YOUR FRIEND
burp on America
our country is tired
HOW desperate do you WANT to BE?
Refuse to consider failure
never arrive
I'm FEELIN FANCY
We were a sea of mirrors, tiny islands of silence and space
CLEAR YOUR ENERGY FIELD
You know what acting is about? You need to FORGET WHO YOU ARE. And if you don't know who that is first, you're fucked.
{If you would pay top dollar for a canvas with these statements artfully scrawled and scratched, colored and crystallized, then you probably went to Art Basel Miami. Also, call me.}<- fancy parentheses
______________________________
Satyakamna is Sanskrit for 'true desire'. It is that longing in each of us that has most likely transmuted into a base desire for a materialistic, sensorial fulfillment. We see it in the slices of cheescake 6 inches high. In the bids for one night stands, temporary marriage, cocaine-white seats. I'm not condemning. I'm just saying, we have a purity at the heart, it wants us to find a wholeness like things can't deliver, like we can't taste. But we get lost. Because it's easy.
The hard road looks easy, full.
The easy, full road is hard.
_______________________________
Oh, it's all Emptiness. Quantum physics. I don't pretend to know you like that, QP. But paradox has stepped aside a few times and let me see the figure on the road she was walking in front of. Thanks, Ram Dass. They didn't look back. Something of a badass.
It's about time I put some of my writings to use and freestyled them somewhere in this grand city. I will announce this before I have actually done anything towards this goal because then I won't do anything. I WORK BACKWARDS. What can I say. Musta been born during a retrograde (actually I wasn't I've checked, but it rhymes so of course, it's going).
Give me freewheeling or give me death.
I've figured it out. Really. My numerological patterns even point to it: for years on end I will be bound by the freestyle, freewheelin forecast. It's not a locked-in destiny, but it is the climate. And I can't deny it any more.
Show me an artist who doesn't think about artifacts of their life and ........ I'll be waiting for a while
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
Originally posted at Moga Yoga
Occasionally we get stuck, bound up by habits of thought and action; a way of interacting with the world that’s comfortable, familiar, enticing, or even destructive. We forget there is a place beyond what we already know.
We sometimes live out lives in this field, never straying very far from what’s given to us, what’s explicitly taught, shown or told.
Our interest surrounds us and we like it this way.
But this year, as I every so often ask for, I’m setting my sights on what I can’t yet see.
And I encourage you to expand your horizons too!
Even if you have no clue as to where they could expand to, even if you’re already booked up to the gills, saying to yourself, “I don’t have time for frivolities, I’ve got bills to pay/ work to do/ too busy/ already interested/ing enough.”
If you’re a grounded, gimme-the-facts-or-go-home type, try poking around some more airy, artsy or spiritual territory. Esoterica can greatly enhance material existence, giving life substance that doesn’t burn down, break apart or leave you empty at the end of the day.
If you’re stuck in the clouds, try coming down to earth and learn about financial planning, goal setting, time management, mingling with social butterflies or in-the-know folk who can connect you to new figures.
If you tend to play it safe, invite the possibility for adventure, spontaneity, and some more fiery characters in your life.
If you’re the shy type, strike up a convo at the deli, store, etc. Do something the old you would never have imagined the new you capable of.
If you tend to only care about yourself, start to focus on listening, I mean REALLY listening to others. Take yourself out of the spotlight and help others.
There’s always more, different, richness in variety. And while part of happiness is being content with what you’ve got, storing your riches in what nurtures you, knowing that chasing after more, more, more won’t bring you the fulfillment we all seem to need — there is real value in peering beyond.
Expansion is your natural birthright. It is the law of the universe, and change is expansion’s partner in life, the other side of the coin that will make your life-force rich and replenised.
Aim for a breakthrough, a new way of seeing and interacting with the world, and your once-dulling kaleidoscope will take on colors, shapes and the light of a viewfinder that’s all of a sudden learning to see anew.
Cheers, here’s to your personal breakthrough!
AM
Occasionally we get stuck, bound up by habits of thought and action; a way of interacting with the world that’s comfortable, familiar, enticing, or even destructive. We forget there is a place beyond what we already know.
We sometimes live out lives in this field, never straying very far from what’s given to us, what’s explicitly taught, shown or told.
Our interest surrounds us and we like it this way.
But this year, as I every so often ask for, I’m setting my sights on what I can’t yet see.
And I encourage you to expand your horizons too!
Even if you have no clue as to where they could expand to, even if you’re already booked up to the gills, saying to yourself, “I don’t have time for frivolities, I’ve got bills to pay/ work to do/ too busy/ already interested/ing enough.”
If you’re a grounded, gimme-the-facts-or-go-home type, try poking around some more airy, artsy or spiritual territory. Esoterica can greatly enhance material existence, giving life substance that doesn’t burn down, break apart or leave you empty at the end of the day.
If you’re stuck in the clouds, try coming down to earth and learn about financial planning, goal setting, time management, mingling with social butterflies or in-the-know folk who can connect you to new figures.
If you tend to play it safe, invite the possibility for adventure, spontaneity, and some more fiery characters in your life.
If you’re the shy type, strike up a convo at the deli, store, etc. Do something the old you would never have imagined the new you capable of.
If you tend to only care about yourself, start to focus on listening, I mean REALLY listening to others. Take yourself out of the spotlight and help others.
There’s always more, different, richness in variety. And while part of happiness is being content with what you’ve got, storing your riches in what nurtures you, knowing that chasing after more, more, more won’t bring you the fulfillment we all seem to need — there is real value in peering beyond.
Expansion is your natural birthright. It is the law of the universe, and change is expansion’s partner in life, the other side of the coin that will make your life-force rich and replenised.
Aim for a breakthrough, a new way of seeing and interacting with the world, and your once-dulling kaleidoscope will take on colors, shapes and the light of a viewfinder that’s all of a sudden learning to see anew.
Cheers, here’s to your personal breakthrough!
AM
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
I got this affliction it's somethin' like a fixin' for contradiction
I won't eat meat but rock fur to the teeth
I like my sleep but there's nothing to please these feet like a night of roamin' the streets dancing to late freaky beats
Paris, London, LA, Rome where ever I go there you are -- this is home
Bare feet dirt drum circles in Mali
Skyscrape NYC heels at Paul and Andre's
Romancin' boys that I meet
When I'm yearnin for the one who knows me
He sets me free for keeps
I can vibe with an asetic's case and the wisdom he'd beseech
While getting caught up in the latest leather sleeves oh Helmut please!
Don't do me like that
Where's my cash
Where's my plane
When's my turn I want to spread the joy insane
The words I feel to wield like a line straight from me to you
The silence I'll claim when small talkin's something I just don't learn to do
Dualistic me laughs in the mirror of unity
I'll meditate to start my day, down dog the time away
And visit magicians when sun sets to pledge for me
Mystic texts on transcendtal sex
And give it all up one day to the next
Teaching souls from 9-5
Walking a thin tightrope line
With the virtues, the values I hold so dear
And the laughing and running I work to steer
From a steady place, it takes years
The quotes the love the time that's all fine
But It won't stick unless I can make it rhyme
I won't eat meat but rock fur to the teeth
I like my sleep but there's nothing to please these feet like a night of roamin' the streets dancing to late freaky beats
Paris, London, LA, Rome where ever I go there you are -- this is home
Bare feet dirt drum circles in Mali
Skyscrape NYC heels at Paul and Andre's
Romancin' boys that I meet
When I'm yearnin for the one who knows me
He sets me free for keeps
I can vibe with an asetic's case and the wisdom he'd beseech
While getting caught up in the latest leather sleeves oh Helmut please!
Don't do me like that
Where's my cash
Where's my plane
When's my turn I want to spread the joy insane
The words I feel to wield like a line straight from me to you
The silence I'll claim when small talkin's something I just don't learn to do
Dualistic me laughs in the mirror of unity
I'll meditate to start my day, down dog the time away
And visit magicians when sun sets to pledge for me
Mystic texts on transcendtal sex
And give it all up one day to the next
Teaching souls from 9-5
Walking a thin tightrope line
With the virtues, the values I hold so dear
And the laughing and running I work to steer
From a steady place, it takes years
The quotes the love the time that's all fine
But It won't stick unless I can make it rhyme
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
Take me to our forest
Where the cedar fills the world with Earth beyond our bodies
Where birch trees stand like soldiers
Protect our games of hide and seek
From souls who have forgotten how to play
And the mist conceals our pasts
Separate trails that brought us here at last
The dew will collect on our shoes
Revealing our progress on stones
Slowly they evaporate in our wake
The way breath betrays silence
We are alive
And your hands are rough from time,
But warm and where my body seeks refuge
Enchanted eyes will have no mind for nostalgia
Our fairytales will have no endings
Nor will they begin to match
The reality of nature in our veins
Like leaves shimmering on a coursing river
Sunlight catches your creases
Insistent from years of wonder
Left a map for my eyes to trace around your face
Beds of moss and years of fallen seasons
We sink into the dirt with no reason to stay clean
Unafraid to lose our modern gleam
My jewels slip off and your instruments are basic
In the best way
Braids come undone as branches comb through this mass alongside your fingers of silk
Skillfully we scratch our facades in the tiniest ways
Revealing smiles and uncertainties as materials test our faith
Our faith in bondage to set us free
Our love of freedom to keep us close
Our need of closeness to stay a part
A part of the magic
The magic of the forest where finally we can sleep
The sleep that fails to interfere with dreams
The dreams that cannot lie
The truth that keeps on dancing
Through the darkest of nights
Where the cedar fills the world with Earth beyond our bodies
Where birch trees stand like soldiers
Protect our games of hide and seek
From souls who have forgotten how to play
And the mist conceals our pasts
Separate trails that brought us here at last
The dew will collect on our shoes
Revealing our progress on stones
Slowly they evaporate in our wake
The way breath betrays silence
We are alive
And your hands are rough from time,
But warm and where my body seeks refuge
Enchanted eyes will have no mind for nostalgia
Our fairytales will have no endings
Nor will they begin to match
The reality of nature in our veins
Like leaves shimmering on a coursing river
Sunlight catches your creases
Insistent from years of wonder
Left a map for my eyes to trace around your face
Beds of moss and years of fallen seasons
We sink into the dirt with no reason to stay clean
Unafraid to lose our modern gleam
My jewels slip off and your instruments are basic
In the best way
Braids come undone as branches comb through this mass alongside your fingers of silk
Skillfully we scratch our facades in the tiniest ways
Revealing smiles and uncertainties as materials test our faith
Our faith in bondage to set us free
Our love of freedom to keep us close
Our need of closeness to stay a part
A part of the magic
The magic of the forest where finally we can sleep
The sleep that fails to interfere with dreams
The dreams that cannot lie
The truth that keeps on dancing
Through the darkest of nights
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
Follow Kevin and me on our journey through lasagna land....
ROASTED VEGETABLE LASAGNA
(fun
instructional video starring me & a friend on youtube.com/thetopofmymind)
serves
8
what
lasagna
pasta
ricotta
cheese
1
kabocha squash (acorn squash) or other similar squash
leeks
capsicum
mushrooms
garlic
onion
gruyère
(or mozza, any cheeses which inspire you)
rosemary
olive
oil
salt
& pepper
oven
tray for roasting
pan
for baking lasagna (I’ve used a deep le creuset frying pan and made a circular
lasagna
any veggies which are
nice to roast and in season which inspire you are suitable too!
how
preheat
oven to 235°C
place
large pot with water to boil (salt and oil optional)
cut
the squash into fourths
cover
with oil and season with salt and pepper
roast
for about 10 minutes or until slightly soft and deeper in color
meanwhile
halve
the well-washed leeks, fourth the capsicum, scooping out seeds; and peel and
fourth the onion
pop
these into the oven with the squash at the 10 minute mark, oiling and seasoning
roast
for another 10-15 minutes or until all ingredients are well-softened
meanwhile
clean
and slice the mushrooms
cook
in oil on medium-low heat, adding rosemary near the end and salt at the very
end
set
aside
meanwhile
cook
the lasagna to al dente
then
when
roasting is done, chop the leeks, onion, and capsicum together creating a jam-like
consistency
scoop
out the meat from the squash and mash with the ricotta cheese until smooth in
consistency
put it all
together
start
by smoothing out a layer of squash-ricotta at the base of your pan
carefully
lay lasagna across the base
add
a layer of the veggie jam
add
a layer of mushrooms
add
a layer of pasta; continue to the final layer of pasta, shredding a good
covering-layer of cheese on top
bake
at 180°C for 20 minutes
ENJOY :)
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
My heart's been broken, my heart's been stifled, it's been lost amidst foreign languages, habits, and rules. It's been drugged and drunk, slowed and sparked with the touch of another's heart, behind a chest these hearts of ours rest and when they magnetize for real, out comes our best, flying us into the heavens on Earth where we seem to need to be so bad, so good, for the best
It's been stomped on, thrown to the wall, fallen to the floor, shed invisible tears, it's lost its beat every now and then through the years,
it kept going though it may have been deaf to my ears
My heart's felt joyous gratitude and sorrow with loss, regret for times its owner wouldn't let it talk, saddened time and time again when things didn't go as planned, my heart still sticks to it's dreams, even when my hands wander through other scenes...
The ancients told me that my heart is where the true mind lies
though my heart's been off while my mind ran the show, it watched,
undercover spy
Blocked, bruised, banished, ignored and angered, there it goes beatin' away, my heart waits with work to always do
And as time goes on
And as we fade
Our hearts ache on, push on, shine on
Til the final resting day
Wake it up
Give it a hand
Tell your heart
Baby, you understand
Listen to its stories
Move to the rhythm it gives you
Meditate to heal that heart
Piece it back to whole
Don't forget it needs you too
Don't forget you're all
You're all it's got to be
Lovin' you n you n you n you n you............
It's been stomped on, thrown to the wall, fallen to the floor, shed invisible tears, it's lost its beat every now and then through the years,
it kept going though it may have been deaf to my ears
My heart's felt joyous gratitude and sorrow with loss, regret for times its owner wouldn't let it talk, saddened time and time again when things didn't go as planned, my heart still sticks to it's dreams, even when my hands wander through other scenes...
The ancients told me that my heart is where the true mind lies
though my heart's been off while my mind ran the show, it watched,
undercover spy
Blocked, bruised, banished, ignored and angered, there it goes beatin' away, my heart waits with work to always do
And as time goes on
And as we fade
Our hearts ache on, push on, shine on
Til the final resting day
Wake it up
Give it a hand
Tell your heart
Baby, you understand
Listen to its stories
Move to the rhythm it gives you
Meditate to heal that heart
Piece it back to whole
Don't forget it needs you too
Don't forget you're all
You're all it's got to be
Lovin' you n you n you n you n you............
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I have nothing to lose
and that's the worst of it
the emptiness your presence takes on
fills me with regret
of some days that went so wrong
the awkwardness, a thick mist
two bodies made of stone
a camera, the click of something paid and lost
I've let it go
then why does it still wreck like a bad dream
it's never what it seems
moments lost to bad memories
on the spot
down came that house of cards
and I lost all my winnings
and that's the worst of it
the emptiness your presence takes on
fills me with regret
of some days that went so wrong
the awkwardness, a thick mist
two bodies made of stone
a camera, the click of something paid and lost
I've let it go
then why does it still wreck like a bad dream
it's never what it seems
moments lost to bad memories
on the spot
down came that house of cards
and I lost all my winnings
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And when you don't have to be perfect you are free to be your self. Which is essentially, anything and everything at the right times in the right ways, always.
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Every once in a while there comes along an artist who restores your faith in (real) music. They capture you with familiarity. They keep you with their novelty. And all of a sudden you're energized, inspired, touched in that unexplainable way that sorta just shook the earth beneath your feet. Totally turned on.
For me, this happy surprise came Friday night at The Bowery Electric during Cantora Records' CMJ showcase.
HAIM hails from LA. They're a band fronted by three sisters with two chaps in the back on drums and keys. They've got a deadly and powerful cocktail of impactful, raspy and emotion-laced vocals; song structures that avoid staid, expected progressions; catchy lyrics (in the good way); the stage banter of someone comfortable in their skin and sense of humor; and mega-solos. Artist comparisons flooded my head as I watched; Fleetwood Mac, The XX, John Mayer, Tracy Chapman, Nirvana; and yet they're incomparable.
These chicks rock
Proof:
The finale
For me, this happy surprise came Friday night at The Bowery Electric during Cantora Records' CMJ showcase.
HAIM hails from LA. They're a band fronted by three sisters with two chaps in the back on drums and keys. They've got a deadly and powerful cocktail of impactful, raspy and emotion-laced vocals; song structures that avoid staid, expected progressions; catchy lyrics (in the good way); the stage banter of someone comfortable in their skin and sense of humor; and mega-solos. Artist comparisons flooded my head as I watched; Fleetwood Mac, The XX, John Mayer, Tracy Chapman, Nirvana; and yet they're incomparable.
These chicks rock
Proof:
The finale
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
I'm on a piano binge, can't help the love the keys strike in me for a gently drifting melody
This video contains a beautiful nudity to accompany the pace of intimate symphonies
This video contains a beautiful nudity to accompany the pace of intimate symphonies
'Twins'
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"The art of life is getting the messages."
On a deserted Brooklyn street this morning I walked past this:
Someone's unwanted fortunes lay in pieces. Something made me stop. Something about wanting a message. And I love fortune cookies (the fortune part at least).
So I tore open the small bag and gingerly pulled out the 3" x 3/4" strip of random messages
And, because I want to learn Chinese:
On a deserted Brooklyn street this morning I walked past this:
Someone's unwanted fortunes lay in pieces. Something made me stop. Something about wanting a message. And I love fortune cookies (the fortune part at least).
So I tore open the small bag and gingerly pulled out the 3" x 3/4" strip of random messages
And, because I want to learn Chinese:
![](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CuTsSZ9L1S8/S-Tw6qqnJzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/0U9D6tFPTqg/s1600/readmorew.gif)
I'm just a mortal with a heart
And I let love control me
Because it's the only thing
Worth anything
Worth everything
And I let love control me
Because it's the only thing
Worth anything
Worth everything
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It was just Fashion Week in New York and I had the opportunity to cover Vivienne Tam's presentation of her new "Fashion Yoga" line for the popular yoga blog, Yoga Dork. It would be like me to take something as benign and nice, nice as an outdoor yoga class presenting yoga clothes and turn it into a deep philosophical question on spirituality, consumerism, authenticity and the like. If you get to really know me, that could get annoying. Especially if you don't like thinking. In which case, it probably won't ever get to that point. But hey - I'm a Libra so, don't worry, I'm mindful of balance (hence get kooky and physically spontaneous).
You know -- what can I say, I go off the top of my mind...
Here's my review. Lots of questions come up and hopefully it gets you interested in looking at yourself and your own choices, whether or not they have anything to do with yoga or fashion (they do). I know I'm still thinking a lot about our present-day structure, it driving behavior and beliefs; how it's built on ideas of the past, adapting to needs of today, planning for an unknown, yet marginally projectable (not really a word) future; the mash ups of tech and spirit, body as our home and our home in this world. To paraphrase some wisdom from my morning session today at Kula Tribeca: "It's never going to be perfect, resolved; the ends will never tie up neatly. Never, ever, ever, ever. And thank God." But is that an excuse for laziness and irresponsible choices? ..... Nyet, Nu, Non, Nein, Não, Manan, Na, Iie. Guess it's got me thinking about honestly responsible choices too...
I also have to give credit to Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche for the term 'spiritual materialism' and my teacher David Micheal Hollander for introducing me to it. Here's the video of Chogyam speaking on the concept, worth watching all the way through:
From Wiki:
In Trungpa's presentation, spiritual materialism can fall into three categories — what he calls the three "Lords of Materialism" (Tibetan: lalo literally "barbarian") — in which a form of materialism is mistaken to bring long term happiness but instead only brings short term entertainment, followed by longer term suffering:
You know -- what can I say, I go off the top of my mind...
Here's my review. Lots of questions come up and hopefully it gets you interested in looking at yourself and your own choices, whether or not they have anything to do with yoga or fashion (they do). I know I'm still thinking a lot about our present-day structure, it driving behavior and beliefs; how it's built on ideas of the past, adapting to needs of today, planning for an unknown, yet marginally projectable (not really a word) future; the mash ups of tech and spirit, body as our home and our home in this world. To paraphrase some wisdom from my morning session today at Kula Tribeca: "It's never going to be perfect, resolved; the ends will never tie up neatly. Never, ever, ever, ever. And thank God." But is that an excuse for laziness and irresponsible choices? ..... Nyet, Nu, Non, Nein, Não, Manan, Na, Iie. Guess it's got me thinking about honestly responsible choices too...
I also have to give credit to Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche for the term 'spiritual materialism' and my teacher David Micheal Hollander for introducing me to it. Here's the video of Chogyam speaking on the concept, worth watching all the way through:
From Wiki:
In Trungpa's presentation, spiritual materialism can fall into three categories — what he calls the three "Lords of Materialism" (Tibetan: lalo literally "barbarian") — in which a form of materialism is mistaken to bring long term happiness but instead only brings short term entertainment, followed by longer term suffering:
- Physical materialism is the belief that possessions can bring release from suffering. In Trungpa's view, they may bring temporary happiness but then more suffering in the endless pursuit of creating one's environment to be just right. Or on another level it may cause a misuderstanding like, "I am rich because I have this or that" or "I am a teacher (or whatever) because I have a diploma (or whatever)."
- Psychological materialism is the belief that a particular philosophy, belief system, or point of view will bring release from suffering. So seeking refuge by strongly identifying with a particular religion,[5] philosophy, political party or viewpoint, for example, would be psychological materialism. From this the conventional usage of spiritual materialism arises, by identifying oneself as Buddhist or some other label, or by collecting initiations and spiritual accomplishments, one further constructs a solidified view of ego.[2]
- Spiritual materialism is the belief that a certain temporary state of mind is a refuge from suffering. An example would be using meditation practices to create a peaceful state of mind, or using drugs or alcohol to remain in a numbed out or a blissful state. According to Trungpa, these states are temporary and merely heighten the suffering when they cease. So attempting to maintain a particular emotional state of mind as a refuge from suffering, or constantly pursuing particular emotional states of mind like being in love, will actually lead to more long term suffering.
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"Pay attention to your heart, take heed of your soul and be assured that if you are present here, it is because life - existence, the absolute, God - wishes to do something through you..."
- Swami Ramakrishnananda
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I love macro shots, decontextualizing form and feeling
Here's a little series of Mex-Tex (textures in Mexico).
Designer's wet dream
Here's a little series of Mex-Tex (textures in Mexico).
Designer's wet dream
Ok so this first one's not that decontextualized...it was the most delicious thing ever, particularly as the roughness of the hand-ground-corn tortilla was perfectly softened by the guac and cheese. Lunch time!
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