Opinions Vs. Knowledge

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Are you sick of being overrun by opinions?

This is a random mid week post much like the ones I had undertaken back in March on my 27 day birthday Challenge.

I’ll call this new chapter of my writing frenzy the 30 day random questions challenge. This is a way to engage more with my few and trusted readers. I have in the past and attempt to engage with more of you out there. Recently to my dismay I have caught myself becoming quite a recluse lately with my writing; so this is an attempt to change.

I have promised time and time again that if I am going to write at all, I’ll write honestly, truthfully and from the heart to whoever is out there reading my musings.

Or else shut this whole operation down.

So here is my first random question- prefaced by some background.

We find ourselves in the era of social media, 24 hour news programming, blogs (yes like mine), articles written on any subject under the sun; on more free article writing sites than our brains can handle, and more newspapers and more free press than we know how to do decipher; yet most or all of what we read is someone’s personal opinion, point of view, or account of things. Our personal perception on any and all things, is being shaped, changed, skewed and solidified by other people’s opinions rather than our own personal experience. For example:

Horrible movie review of an indie film by 3 people sends crowds to the one everyone raves about, determining not only the quality of something, but also its worth based on public opinion and popularity, rather than merit.

Food

Art (this includes, music, film, dance, visual and performing arts)

Politics

Public figures of all kinds

Travel

Literature

You get it. Everything we seem to partake in seems to be there because and strongly based on the opinion makers and holders, regardless of what we may actually decide for ourselves. In short:

why do we allow these individuals with the power to advertise their opinions louder than anyone else, to determine our taste, where we go for vacation, what we like for food, what we should dress like, how we should love, how we should express ourselves and for all intents and purposes how to live our lives.

There seems to be a cacophony of chatter but really absolutely nothing personal is actually shared. We are all forced to use recycled ideas, and opinions while following lifestyle gurus instead of being encouraged to question, discover, risk, and figure out shit for ourselves. It doesn’t bode well for free societies, to be so lead by the nose…

Is randomness, spontaneity and personal exploration losing its mojo?

If you would like to share your thoughts, I would love to hear from you!

 

 

How you project yourself may not be how other people see you.

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Photograph by Eric Snell (@esnelldesign)

We’ve all had that moment.

We are projecting one version of ourselves, yet a completely different person is being reflected back at us.

We see ourselves one way and others see us in a completely different light.

Where do these two perceptions clash?

Most of it is based on people’s own stream of consciousness and not what we project.

We think no one is noticing us, while there are clearly people drawn to us, our energy, and who we are. Or the idea of who we might be in their head. We hardly notice or welcome people’s gaze, attention, or reflections of us, in a society where everyone is on social media posting every aspect of our lives.

Yet… with all this communication, there is clearly a big deficit in actual communication.

I’ve done this many times and I’m sure everyone does. 

I fantasize about who people are, rather than actually seeing them for who they are.

My exploration of these dual realities and images comes at a very pivotal time. I have only recently discovered what I can simply call “my authentic self”. I am still battling with my perceived awkwardness of the pimply shy teenager I used to be, the one no one wants to talk to, and everyone makes fun of, and there are plenty of times I think I’m still that awkward girl. I often hope I go unnoticed, lurking in the shadows observing others.

I battled that fear of exposure, and people taking notice of who I was, or who they thought I was,  when I posed for various photographers in the five years I’ve lived in New York. Some nude, some for Yoga purposes, some for fun. I continue to be open and vulnerable in my recent work performing my poetry in front of complete strangers. (that was a challenge!)

In every instance I haven’t seen myself as particularly attractive, interesting or photogenic, but more theatrical and obscure. A curiosity.

Yet the response I get from people, is that of someone who is quite different. After I turned 40 all the shyness and awkwardness of my youth has slowly faded away.

Claiming space, claiming my worth, my voice, beauty, or image as a woman; has been a very interesting exploration. But I’m still baffled at how others perceive me.

How we see ourselves may not be hour others see us. 

We are shaped by a myriad of references. Cultural experiences being one of them. I grew up in Greece in the late 70’s and 80’s  and then again in the early 2000’s. Despite my American accent and passport, everything about who I am and have become is shaped by my life in Greece. Recently a friend said to me “oh you’re such a Greek-American!” which is a blatant fact. I belong to two worlds, two camps, two realities. Often opposing each other vehemently. Depending on my surroundings; like a chameleon I absorb cultural references I grew up with, and mold them to my current reality. You never know what you’re going to get!

Yet time and time again, others who observe us, will see something purely based on their own perceptions. We ALL do that, sometimes to our advantage, sometimes to our detriment.

Next time you observe someone, before you impose your idea of them, let them unfold in front of you unobstructed by your own perceptions.

You might be surprised by what you receive.

The Long Way Home

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I must confess; I’m in love with Brooklyn.

There is something enchanting about Brooklyn evenings that few other neighborhoods in New York City possess.

My bias is not with out an excuse; I’ve lived in the same neighborhood in south Brooklyn ever since I moved to New York from Athens five years ago. Except for a brief stint living in Manhattan in the East Village and the Lower East Side (which I still love), most of my time has been spent south of Prospect Park.

I owe my love of this part of city to my original host and friend from college who introduced me to this multi- ethnic, multi cultural and multi layered microcosm few (thank goodness) still know about.

Simply put it’s a gem.

Nestled in between Prospect Park and the Greenwood Cemetery, this still unspoiled part of Brooklyn is a place where you can say hello to the corner bodega owner, chat with your neighbor while they walk their dog, and see familiar faces walking around the streets on a lazy, Sunday afternoon. I wave to the store owners catching a glimpse of the action in the street every morning when I go to work, but I never think of taking the time to truly explore further.

From what many locals tell me, the neighborhood hasn’t changed that much over the years. Originally an Italian immigrant neighborhood, it is now peppered with a spectrum of nationalities, languages, cultures and religions. A true cultural crossroads. But I needed to know more.

Summer nights are a perfect excuse for a long walk.

One evening after an event in the Greenwood cemetery I took this rare opportunity to take the long way home.

As the sunset burst into a beautiful tapestry of colors; shades of pink, salmon, purple and yellow adorned the early evening sky. The aroma of evening primrose and soft wet soil wafted through the air… I was transported. For a moment I was lifted away from the worries of my New York life and felt like I was walking through the streets of my old neighborhood in Athens. I instantly felt carefree; but the real treat didn’t arrive until the sun set; revealing thousands upon thousands of fireflies signaling to each other in their own mystical code.

I closed my eyes took a deep breath and floated with the sounds of stories being told of the families living in these neighborhoods, of meals shared, travels taken and lives changed forever. This was the first time in my years living in New York that I was absolutely in tune with my surroundings.

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Living in such a high strung city, we are used to boxing ourselves in. We end up shielding our bodies and minds from the cacophony of noises, lights, tall buildings, strong aromas; all  of which accost our senses in invasive ways.  We choose to be numb to the big stuff and forget to take a moment to really observe the more subtle aspects of this city. During my walk through my neighborhood, all of that outer noise instantly vanished, and I was able to just enjoy the long walk home.

Outrage–

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Outrage. 1950. USA. Directed by Ida Lupino.

We are drowning in outrage. Everyday there is something new to be outraged about. Tragic, manic politicians doing more harm than good, putting us all in a state of panic.

Devastating war in distant corners of the world while leaders of countries play chess with peoples lives.

Talent show hosts with draconian immigration schemes that fill the pockets of thieves and corporations, with zero tolerance for human devastation.

War machines growing and growing like vines.

Greed, capitalism, human rights violations, massive migrations and we are all outraged, devastated, furious beyond comprehension.

And for what?

Did we notice that we are still in our comfortable living rooms,  dining in restaurants, and safe in our beds sleeping at night?

Did we notice that we won’t have trouble, buying food, or bottles of water or a new shag rug, and that cute little dress that looks just right?

Let us stop drowning in outrage and turn the page.

We are more useful and necessary than we think. The big man didn’t do this with out our consent.

But we can pay the rent.

Enough with the outrage and let’s choose to take our place in history.

This isn’t a mystery… stop complaining about the injustices and settle back into your routines. This fight isn’t a fair one without our participation.

Cause it’s easy to think that your super market doesn’t have a gluten free section when you’re far away from devastation and pain.

So let’s come together again.

Unprotected children deserve more than our grass roots facebook attention span and insta-fury.

The world is watching, our outrage.

To what comes next-

Picture by Robert Valenzuela ( @3rd.night)

I have had a recent lull to my writing, in stark contrast to the frenzy of past months. My spring feverish ideas and thoughts left freely from my brain onto the page. I truly enjoyed my every day post commitment I set out to complete back in March (birthday challenge) . Truly nothing has kept me more on my toes, than my yoga/ exercise practice and my writing.

As of late I’ve had what many would call a freeze of my creative flow. I don’t know if this is a set back or a regroup, but for what its worth, I would not be a particularly good blogger, if I didn’t share this stagnancy with my small yet powerful and encouraging audience (share my posts with your friends!).

I’m feeling a little stuck.

There are a plethora of things I want to share my thoughts on, but in this growing cacophony of opinions and thoughts my mind is becoming overwhelmed with the opinions of everybody else, to really be able to be a valid voice in the mix. The reminder that depression, and suicide is so openly discussed, took me back to my days of battling depression, and how I was able through very lucky circumstances and good people to get out of bed, put one foot in front of the other, pull myself out of dark cavernous thoughts, and figure shit out.

I battle with self doubt, body image issues, self esteem issues, and the list goes on. Yet here I am writing about it, even though I’m still stuck. I often promise I will share as much of myself as possible it’s the only way to write.

There is definitely a chaotic order to the way I convey my thoughts on this blog, and I appreciate those who’ve followed and continue to follow my musings, poetry, analysis and reflections.

For now I will leave you with a small gratitude list. When you get stuck, make one too, it helps.

  1. I’m grateful for my health. Two dear friends who I deeply care for are battling cancer. They are warriors, who absolutely give me courage to be even better and more resilient.
  2. I’m extremely grateful for my home here in New York. It’s a sanctuary and a quiet space, in this overwhelming city.  Every night I sit on my balcony; on these warm summer nights, and smile at how blessed I am to be here. I miss Greece and my home there every waking moment, but having the opportunity to travel and live here isn’t available to many of my fellow country men and women. Thousands of refugees are still in limbo on many Greek islands bordering Turkey. Children and their families are being torn apart as we speak at US borders. As we all battle internal crisis, so much turmoil is occurring on a daily basis. That forces me to think twice before I forget where I’ve come from.
  3. I’m grateful for rekindled and real friendships, from the embers of dead affairs. And I’m grateful I recently escaped a toxic affair before it created further damage.
  4. I’m grateful for Art. As I’ve mentioned in past posts and I’ll say it again, Art is the only thing that can and has created meaningful change. Art touches and effects everyone in small and big ways and is and will continue to be a huge vehicle for truth, change, and progress.

I’m still stuck with my writing, but I’m grateful I can share that too. When overwhelmed with life’s rocky path, be grateful for what you have to overcome it.

May all beings be Happy and Free.

Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu-

Letting go of fear- Lock and Key

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We’ve all felt it. It paralyzes us. It leaves us numb, without a way out. We all know it, that feeling of being helpless and fearful. Fear can be a necessary tool, it keeps us alive if we hold back from jumping off tall buildings to see if we can land in one piece,  it keeps us safe from fatal harm, it keeps us from making sometimes really stupid mistakes, but in many cases it stops us from living lives full of wonder and joy. The older we grow the more fearful we become and one thing a 20 plus yoga practice has taught me is the playfulness and joy doesn’t have to dissipate just because we let our fears and insecurities take over.

Fear can rob us from opening doors or perception of dreams and of possibilities that could make our lives richer, more luscious and more beautiful.

But what if we just turned the key and looked beyond our fear? Yes, it’s harder to do than to say, yet there it is beckoning us, the unknown, the undiscovered.

We’ve always had the key to the lock. Sometimes it IS as easy and taking it out and trying it out. And what If we fail? And what if we fall down and scrape our ego? And what? What if we fall in love and have our heart broken, what if we tell the truth and get rejected?

Nothing.

You get the fuck up and keep trying. Because you can’t let fear drive the car. You can’t let this mind numbing agent steal your life from you because life is way to short to live in fear.

Don’t let it.

Recipe for Disaster-

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Mural by SimpleG @simpleg1 – Athens, Greece

How does it taste?

My desire for you….

Is my flavor too much for your stomach to take?

I cooked it slowly with the age old recipe.

Spent all night blending the spices just right.

I put slices of passion in between each promise and lustful embrace.

I let the juices bubble and hiss.

  *     *     *

Is it too salty?

Did you leave in haste due to heartburn?

Too many cooks spoil the broth I guess.

I must confess this was a recipe for disaster.

I’m a master in the kitchen and a servant of my heart.

I’ll have to start over with this prep, follow each step to the letter

I should have known better

You can’t serve creme brulee in a plastic cup.

Tainted Fruit-

Mural by @FKDL– Bushwick, Brooklyn NY
The delicate insignificance of your smile
was quietly encouraged by you.
Overwhelmed by your self importance
you over estimate your value and weight.
Acting like an emotional cheapskate.
                                               .   .    .
Shameless self promotion causing the death of substance at your feet.
But you won’t admit defeat.
You would rather die than see the other side of the coin.
A Trojan horse infiltrating the souls of those who cross your path.
A monster in sheep’s clothing.
                                              .    .    .
Beware of my wrath.
It’s deadly and never misses the mark.
Cheap thrills don’t purchace a place in my heart.
It’s a stark contrast to a chorus of lies and ego boosting shots.
I tell the truth and it’s not pretty, I’m gritty.
I’m the real deal.
You try to steal my thunder but you fall and crack when you’re exposed to the light.
                                           .   .   .
And still… and still
I fall hard for my lesser self.
The one that believes you to be mighty and me a speck of dust on your shoes.
I lose myself in your world of titans and and one eyed thieves.
I neglect the divine femininity that will break it all apart into a million little pieces.
                                        .    .    .
I won’t be this, weak little thing for you.
My roots are deep and my fruit is luscious.
I’m a wild child I’ll stick to your subconscious like sweet nectar.
You tasted my juices and spit them out.
That’s not what I’m about.
Time is of the essence and in order to bear fruit
we must rise above low expectations.
But still… I fall…

Nobody is Perfect

Γηράσκω δ’ αἰεὶ πολλὰ διδασκόμενος.

I grow old ever learning many things. — Solon of Athens.

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For as long as I can remember I’ve fought against a perpetual ideal, the constant striving and constant self critical cycle of wanting to be the best at something ( or die trying??) and missing out on what my failures are teaching me in order to become better.

Well Yes “No one is perfect.”

We are taught at a very young age to strive for betterment, perfection, ideal, the “best” of something and at something. We fight for grades, we pull all nighters to get a degree, we deprive ourselves of comfort, sleep, and sanity to reach a higher goal and achievement. And when our flaws are pointed out to us or we fail at something we tried, so hard for, we repeat ourselves its ok… “Well… no one is perfect”. And often we give up.

Yet, perfection or the attaining of it in its original form is a flawed premise. It defeats the purpose of a teachable moment, its gives us an excuse to stay focused on an unattainable unreachable ideal rather than the beauty of constantly improving and learning from our own imperfection. We have to keep saying : it’s ok I suck at this and I’m not good enough right now, but I won’t give up”. We give in to this ideal in our minds,  yet perfection isn’t what we should be aiming for in the first place.

Of course no one is perfect. There is no such thing.

Perfection isn’t the point. It’s the mastery, improving, evolving and learning from our mistakes. Perfection is a fallacy, it’s a mirage. And those who battle with perfection, reaching it, attaining it or embodying it, are losing on the beauty and necessity of imperfection.

One of my favorite Ashtanga Yoga teachers is in my eyes absolutely perfect. He is my ideal practitioner and teacher. He is kind, loving, supportive, funny and a really cool dude, as well as probably the most accomplished Ashtanga Yoga teachers worldwide. I credit a lot of my teaching ethics to him ( I won’t say his name cause that’s not the point). Yet one day, during a workshop I was attending, this seemingly perfect teacher with all the answers, said that he still struggles with a pose I find absolutely excruciatingly difficult, even though it’s not considered that challenging.

And I felt a wave of irony and laughter filling my lungs.

What??? This guy is not perfect? He has flaws, he struggles with poses, but he’s like a god! And all of a sudden, the way I saw my own practice and of course my whole relationship with yoga changed. I no longer aspired to be the best most perfect practitioner of all time, (which wasn’t a realistic goal to begin with) but to be the most empathetic, supportive, driven, and disciplined I could be with all my physical flaws and imperfections.

Let’s be honest; when someone tells you “well you’re not perfect… but….”  run far away. Because perfection is stagnancy and a bad excuse for not trying harder, not evolving and improving on what you already have. Perfection as a measure of character is also unrealistic and this pervasive thought that if you’re not perfect you aren’t good enough; isn’t helpful for betterment.

Challenging our boundaries, finding ways to advance our craft, our selves, our way of thinking means fully accepting that we’re all works in progress, constantly improving and learning.

We will never reach perfection and that is just perfect.

A New Feminine

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I recently attended a  workshop and discussion on Tantra as a methodology and philosophy. In my 20 years of yoga practice, I am still learning of this vast body of knowledge, of which I have explored very few aspects of.

For any one curious about Tantra, its origins its philosophy and its many offshoots; thousands of books have been written on the matter, some from a Yoga perspective, some from a spiritual practice and of course the more widely talked about and frequently advertised sexual explorations.

The divine feminine/ masculine the transformation of energy and sexual energy into something spiritual is a multi layered and multi faceted subject. It’s not just about sex. My problem with the workshop I attended, and many more that are out there on the philosophy of Tantra; is that most people will reduce this sacred ancient tradition to a new spice in their sexual exploration cabinet.

How do we deeply connect to these concepts without distorting them? How do we show reverence and respect for such traditions without transforming them into sound bites, easy quotes and convenient tricks?

For what seems to be the “the meeting of man and woman; the transformation of energy through sex, love and meditation. ” (Osho) becomes a gimmick and a pick up line.

Tapping into the deeper layers of Shiva and Shakti energy within us, the inner masculine and inner feminine traits take time, and deep devotion. In this fast paced world of instant pleasure, and porn culture, I’m afraid these practices are somewhat lost to most who seek to understand them.

For what modern feminism has sadly become is this man hating, castrating society and then the eventual rise of women in a man made world. Yes women have been oppressed, men have been given some sort of “god given” right to be superior, and the patriarchal societies have been built to oppress that which they come from. Yes all of this is true but what we’ve left out is the third aspect of the union between male and female energy and that is the divine.

Yet we’ve grown up thinking (myself included), that equality means denying our nature, our amazing feminine nature, and distorting it to making women think they are always  inferior and men superior. This way of thinking leaves women with the only choice left to them to even the playing field in this distorted world, and that is “to act” like men… which isn’t the fucking point.

If any one is interested in Reading more about Tantra here is a beginner’s guide :

Tantra Illuminated

Tantra : The Supreme Understanding, OSHO

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