I Wonder What I Taste Like

Returned Sunday evening from a somewhat restful Yoga retreat in the heart of the Berkshire mountains. Jill and I went to a joint called Kripalu, pronounced Kri-PALL-oo, which the locals affectionately call “cripple you.” It’s actually more than a joint, it’s a sprawling campus dedicated to Yoga and and other Asian-inspired ascetic disciplines on acres and acres of lovely Massachussets real estate. 

We had 4 sessions with renowned Yogi Seane Corn. She’s a tough Jersey girl turned spiritual sage. And that might just be enough for you to imagine what kind of teacher she is. Let’s just say that there was a lot of enlightened cursing going on. She brought levity to the teachings and didn’t get all pan-flutey on us, which was refreshing in a world of gypsy Yogis.

In between the Yoga we enjoyed meals of socially-responsible fare. Well, I enjoyed. Every day they serve 3 meals buffet style of vegetables, grains, beans, and usually a fish or poultry dish if you wanted to go that route. I loved the food, Jill wasn’t so easily impressed. “Hospital food” I believe is how she described some of the dishes. She knows what she likes.

We also had an opportunity to stroll the campus. There, we saw a Zen garden, a Zen labyrinth, a Zen lake, Zen statues, a Zen apple orchard (just past the Zen parking lot).As soon as you check in, they give you a hiking trail map. And we were surprised to see just how much there was to explore. 

In between our Saturday afternoon Yoga session and dinner, we decided to take on one of the beautiful hiking trails. Amazing. Jill and I spending time walking through the dense forest, walking, laughing. It was late afternoon, and despite a handful of others we saw coming off the trail, we had the mountain to ourselves. 

So we thought. 

Out of a not-so-distant outcropping lumbered a beast of a bear. Big black momma bear, with two cubs that could eat your head whole. Momma saw us, but seemed indifferent to our presence. I wish I felt the same way. I minded very much sharing the trail with a human-eating predator. After the token “Holy S” my adrenyl glands were deciding: Fight? Flight? Collapse? The first and last didn’t seem like good answers to me. 

Jill and I froze. With one eye on the bears and one eye on the trail I started backtracking. Then I hear faintly behind me, “Greg, wait for me.” No time for chivalry, Jill. I don’t have to outrun the bear, I just have to outrun you. Jill promptly caught up and we walked at a brisk pace retracing our loop. The sun was setting. We had 30 minutes to trek a 45 minute loop. Which, I'm sure would take a motivated bear under 12 minutes. We didn’t look back. We made it out of the woods literally and figuratively. Funny thing is the loop connected where we saw the bears in the first place, so all they needed to do was walk across a small ravine and wait on the trail with their mouths open, we would have walked right in. 

How to Induce a Heart Attack

Good morning all. 

Train 10 minutes late. Crowded. The rumble, the gentle quaking. 

On my way into the concrete caverns of Manhattan. One passenger behind me is clearing her throat incessantly—like a cat working on a hairball. It’s happening every 10 seconds. What does she have in there? Roof tar? Very pleasant. Headphones! Ah, better. 

I wanted to clue you in on a new regimen of mine. If you know me, I’m always looking for ways to improve my days. Shake things up. Experiment here and there to see if anything sticks. A couple of things have stuck, most don’t. 

This regimen is something everybody can do. It doesn’t take any extra time, and the benefits are immediate. It provides a natural jolt of energy—you feel electrified. Every nerve ending peaked, every capilary dialated. You can even feel the effects inside your teeth.

If you’re one for a morning shower, give this a shot:

At the end of your shower, cut the hot water and stand there as long as you can man it. One minute? Two? Three if you’re Tundra Man. 

Now, you southerners might not appreciate the effects of this regimen due to higher water temps. But us in the north country, where the water comes at us from the frozen aquifers of Quebec, we can fully treasure the horror of ice nards. 

You will hyperventilate for the first 20 seconds. Expect a expletive or three to leak out. You’ll experience numbness, nausea, and delirium. Your heart will be in your throat, if it doesn't stop altogether. 

But, when you cut the water off. Bliss. 

The Economy Has Infected My Soccer Team

Here’s something from the New York Times: “When Derek Jeter heard the word “slump,” he reacted as if he had heard a curse word in church.” I’ve heard of slumps, and I’ve seen slumps. But I’m not one to experience em. No, sir. I may be 40 but I’m still a man on the uphill. An exemplary 110 over 70. Plenty of leafy greens. Yoga-fueled. Stimulant-free. Socially responsible, citizen of the world. Of all people, how could I be experiencing a slump?

Slumps are for schlumps!

This is a complete mystery. So, I did a little research. They say a slump is a period in which a player or team performs below expectation. A dry spell. A drought. Thanks for the enlightenment Wikipunks.

I want to know WHY it happens. An astrological phenomenon? A dark karmic echo? Solar flares?

Think of our economic “climate,” or “downturn,” or “recession"—come up with your own euphemism. It's a collective slump, friends and it's starting to affect my Sundays. My new soccer team, the Ancient Warriors of Wilton, Connecticut are experiencing this "slowdown," or "funk," or "decline." Last 2 games have resulted in draws. 0-0. That’s zero zero. Nil nil for you Brits. Both to inferior teams. Yeah, all you bright-siders and silver-liners will be all “you didn’t lose.”

Shut it!

Like I heard after the game "a draw is like kissing your cousin." Unsatisfying, ungratifying, just plain un-good.

If you've got an answer here, I wanna hear it. If anything works, I'll give Bernanke a buzz.