A Bad Influence

I did yoga this morning after a long yoga-drought.

My mat seemed to mock me. Poses that were once effortless were grueling and there was a moment when I thought I would rest in child's pose. But I kept pushing through, and finally my head left the game. And when that happened, muscle memory kicked in... and something else. For the first time ever, with no expectations of success, and in possibly the worst shape of my life, I hit and held "crow" for a full 3 breaths.

Of course once I realized what I was doing, I started THINKING again, and immediately pitched forward and landed on the top of my head.

But that doesn't diminish the feeling of success.

An Island

Thoughts of Asia never seem to be far away.

With FC in town right now from Beijing, and SL coming for a visit next month from Hong Kong, the winter of 2008/2009 is starting off with a strong Asia focus.

And just the other day, PC found me on facebook.

December 2005, I spent 10 days at the Kamalaya Resort in Koh Samui, Thailand. I didn't want to go home for the holidays, but I needed to get out of Beijing. And I was hungry to just be alone. An Iyengar yoga retreat in a gorgeous resort fit the bill perfectly. Besides, I was going to meet WC in Bangkok (en route to Bhutan) later that month so getting a head start to Thailand made sense to me.

It rained every single day I was in Koh Samui. It should have been dreadful. It was perfect.

My days there were reassuringly well-ordered. I started every morning with yoga in my room, had a lovely breakfast by myself, followed by 4 hours of yoga with the other participants. Then lunch with the other yogis, followed by yet another yoga session in the afternoon. A spa treatment, then dinner - sometimes in my room, sometimes in the dining room. There was never any pressure to be with other people.

I'm not sure if everyone who was there went there for the same reasons I did - in search of peace and solitude - or if somehow it was obvious that I needed to be apart.

I made two friends while there, despite myself.

HS, who incidentally, will be in town over Chinese New Year for the NYC premier of his movie, My Beijing Birthday, was absolutely lovely. He was one of the investors of the resort, and an avid yogi himself, and he always seemed to know when I wanted to be alone and when I was in the mood for company.

PC was there with his gorgeous, glamorous wife, F. They lived in Hong Kong, but were building a second home on Koh Samui - just minutes away from the resort.

I contacted PC in January 2006, letting him know that I had decided to relocate to Hong Kong, and he was wonderfully generous in introducing me to everyone I needed to know there.

I look back on that time with wonder. I wouldn't have thought it was possible to make connections with people when I was busy building walls around me.

The walls are still up. A bit thinner perhaps, and more transparent, but they're still there. It should be easier to pull down a wall than to build it in the first place. But apparently, not always.

But while I'm on the topic of building walls...

PC's amazing house in Koh Samui has since been completed. And his recent email to me contained probably the loveliest words known to man: "If you are in the neighborhood you are most welcome. We have lovely VIP guest quarters. Come."

Break Fast

Part I of my detox fast is over and mere words cannot adequately express my joy. But in the event that anyone is interested - I feel GREAT. Of course, that just might be because I ate something today.

Part II started today - 30 days of Bikram yoga. Of all the myriad forms of yoga, bikram is my least favorite - there's something terribly unappealing about a carpeted yoga studio heated to 100 degrees fahrenheit with years of sweat ground into every possible surface.

Especially now that my sense of smell seems distressingly acute...

Writing Desire

Well, that didn't last long. I had one good, non-craving day, but today, The Craving is back. I would happily betray everything and everyone important to me in return for a grilled cheese sandwich. What makes it worse is that this is usually boozy brunch day.

In fact, it is so bad, I got on the phone and signed up for a 5 hour yoga workshop for this afternoon - it was the longest one I could find online. I have to get myself far away from anything I can eat or drink. Unfortunately, it is the kind of yoga that involves a lot of chanting. Despite being a certified yoga instructor, I am about as spiritual as my Amex card, so the chanting/spiritual elements of yoga usually just piss me off. But I suspect I am just so damn weakened right now, I will EAT IT UP.

And while we're on the topic of eating, it has been brought to my attention that I have been writing about sex. Or, rather, that I have been writing about food in a highly sexual way.

Maybe this is the trick - to write sex scenes while hungry, and not with a man in mind, but instead, a perfectly grilled panini with thinly sliced prosciutto, fresh arugula, melted mozzarella, the slightest touch of olive tapenade, and finished off with a lovely drizzle of truffle oil.

Excuse me, just slid off my seat.

Cravings, Tamed

I was told that there would be certain days of this detox fast that will be harder than others, and days that will be easier. Today is my first day of the latter variety. I feel GREAT. Meant to do my usual hour of yoga this morning. I felt so good, it turned into 3 hours.

I dreamt of food again last night, but not in a visceral, immediate, "oh god I must have it NOW" kind of way, but more in the "isn't that nice, I'm content to enjoy just looking at it" kind of way.

When I was young, our next-door neighbor's nephew would visit during the summers and he and I would run around the neighborhood together.

One summer, when I was about 10 or 11 (he was about the same age), we were sitting on the picnic table in my backyard when he asked me, "Can I see your butt?"

I considered his request and couldn't see a downside, so I hopped off the table and pulled down my shorts long enough for him to see my rear.

After I hopped back on the picnic table, we sat for awhile and then he asked, "Do you want to see my butt?"

I considered his offer and couldn't see an upside, so I politely declined.

I'm feeling much the same way about all my former cravings right now: "No thank you, I'll pass."

OM

So what do you do on a Friday night when you can't eat or drink?

Exactly. I couldn't think of anything either.

So I went to a 2 hour yoga class tonight. And can you believe it, the studio was lousy with people all with the same idea - not because they were detoxing, but because a Friday night yoga class is their idea of FUN.

I've never felt so alone.

New Year's Detox

I will be ushering in the New Year by fasting, in every possible way. Extreme detox.

No men, no booze, no smokes, no caffeine, no solid food.

SK and I will meet for yoga twice a week in the evenings so she can confirm I am still mobile. IC will weigh me every Friday to make sure I do not go below my lower weight limit. WC will check in on me once a week and hold a mirror to my nose and mouth to confirm I am still breathing and sprinkle water on me if I look dehydrated.

At boozy brunch yesterday, I asked WC what social activities exist that do not involve booze. I must have been speaking in Urdu because she just looked at me blankly.

My calendar for January looked so virginal that this morning I scheduled in things such as: "shower", "sit around", "be cranky", "crave something" just so I am not mocked by the absence of any real activities.

And while this may sound bleak, I am consumed by excitement. My focus will be inward. Work, yoga, piano and guitar, and dare I hope it? Sleep. The dance classes with IC and SK will wait until February after I have re-introduced myself to solid food. Evidently IC's jazz dance instructor is well worth staring at twice a week for an hour each time.

The good news is that I should be a really cheap date for my birthday. By 6:45PM, with half a glass of wine in me, I should be completely out and my exceedingly tolerant friends can haul my unconscious body to my bed and then continue my birthday celebration without me.

How FUN!

You Make Me Wanna Wait

When was the last time you laughed so hard you peed a couple drops? A couple months ago, WC and I saw Altar Boyz, and loved it. About a Christian rock boy band, Altar Boyz tells the story of 5 "boyz" who share a goal - to save souls through their music - and they track their progress on the Soul Sensor DX-12, manufactured by Sony.

WC snagged front row seats, close enough to be splattered by sweat and saliva, and I really hope nothing else.

Matthew, the leader of the boy band, sings this one lovely, romantic ballad. And for that particular performance, he knelt down right at the edge of the stage and held out his hand to... ME. Of course, I put my hand in his and furiously batted my eyelashes.

He sang:

When I met you girl
When I hold your body next to mine
It feels so good
And feels so right
And it also makes my Levi’s feel real tight

All my friends they think I’ve lost my mind
And they tell me I’m a fool
But I’m doing what I learned in Sunday school...

Girl, you make me wanna wait

Later, though, they brought up some ugly chick to sit on stage for the last part of the song while I fumed inwardly with a fury that could destroy worlds.

But then I got over it, and after the show, WC and I bought little tees that proclaim across the bosom: "You make me wanna wait."

I think I'll wear it when I decide to start having sex again. That should send a nice mixed message.

But anyway, I was doing yoga yesterday afternoon, and I was wearing that tee. My father looked at it and asked me, "Wait for what?"

"I don't remember," I replied. Which was truthful enough.

My First Time

I've heard people say that yoga calms them, quiets the voices in their heads, and that while on their mats, they are fully in the moment, focused solely on the union of breath and movement.

Yoga doesn't do that for me.

Depending on the day, it might be hard hard work, or it might be effortless. But either way, my thoughts never reach that place of quiet. Usually, I risk serious spinal injury by twisting around to compare my form to that of everyone else in the studio. I guess the entire non-competitive aspect of yoga is likewise lost on me.

On horseback - that's a different story. Unlike yoga, where you have only yourself to contend with, riding involves another creature with a mind and moods of its own. And with every thought and feeling communicated instantly through your arms and hands and legs and seat, you HAVE to be focused. And you also have to be open enough to receive messages as well. Is the horse about to try to throw you? Is the horse about to startle at something? (I have yet to meet a horse that wasn't a complete pussy. I mean really, why in the world would a 1200 pound animal be afraid of a sparrow? I rode a horse in Australia that was petrified of MAILBOXES). But I digress: being preoccupied is generally a surefire way of getting thrown, at least for me.

I fell in love with a horse once. Not in a Catherine-the-Great kind of way. Half American Appaloosa and half Irish Draught, his name was Killer. I was told his sire was the first Appaloosa in Ireland, but I can't confirm this. He was ugly, with an oversized head and graceless neck and stocky body and he had me at the first canter. In fact, I lost my galloping virginity to Killer. I am not one to appreciate speed. Driving too fast makes me nervous. I am a careful skier. But galloping at full speed on a sure footed horse? There's nothing better.

Killer's gait was so smooth that the three-beat rhythm of the canter was barely discernible. Encouraged by this, and with a long straight run ahead of me, I asked for the gallop: gently squeezing the reigns in my hands to get his attention, leaning forward into half seat, and then ever so slightly applying more pressure with my heels. Killer's gait changed, his stride lengthened, and it truly was like flying.

Too bad the loss of my actual virginity wasn't as enjoyable.

*Oh SNAP!*