Beloved Koshari

Dear Friends,

My heart is breaking I can barely eat, sleep or teach. As I was emotionally railing over my son leaving for college, as I was feeling the threat of an empty nest and all the changes and implications that come with this seemingly major life shift… my dear friend, Stardove’s, 19 year old son Koshari was senselessly murdered on Molokai, a blow to the head by a complete stranger, no known motive or affiliation (Koshari Waits). I fell to my knees. I have my son, he’s alive… while her firstborn is dead.

Stardove & Koshari 1996

This comes on the wake of the shooting in Santa Barbara by Eliot Rodger and the senseless cries that drown out the tragedy that scream for rights to be armed. I watched the entire video of Eliot’s self named retribution it has since been taken down from You Tube, he is a tragic, lost, self-possessed individual, overcome with grief turned into rage, misdirected by mysogyny and social myths; isolated by mental illness, entitlement and blame. He is one of many victims of a society steeped in the illusion of what we call social ‘norms’ -materialist expectations of suceess and achievement based in objectification, the acquisition of trophies (beauty and stuff) of which sexism, mental illness and rage are all a by-product.

Meanwhile, the ice caps are melting, Fukushima is threatening to extinquish the human race and people are watching TV, eating poison -or- alternatively they are smugly eating organic food in their massive homes and living the lie of complacency generated by the corporate machine, buy this, wear this and don’t notice your mind has been hijacked by commercial images and excellent marketing strategy.

Yoga plays into this, it plays into notions of spiritual superiority and exceptionalism…not us, but them. PLEASE WATCH Michael C. Ruppert, part 6. A fantastic quote by a realized being Adyashanti ‘You can use meditation to fall asleep as well as WAKE up. It’s time to WAKE UP! Don’t you agree? Playing by the established set of rules no longer works for any of us.

I don’t say this to upset or depress you, if you’re reading this you are likely of the same mind when it comes to the outrage you feel for the general asleepness of the world at large. I say this to rally you. Our concerns for stuff and image are more than a minor flaw in the human condition, the media and all the bullsh*t notions of sucess and togetherness it relentlessly stuffs down our throats is more than marketing strategy and business as usual. It’s a poisenous infection to our collective health, safety and well being as humans. As we kill each other the machine is eating us alive, the SUV’s and monstrous houses we live in are our coffins.

So, Yoga world are we going to use our voices -or- are we going to promote another corporate Yoga brand to promote ourselves and our injured ego’s?

Are we going to fall prey to the machine and let it swallow us whole and along with it the opportunity for change..the chance to give a platform to the ideas and concepts that could save our planet and the human race.

I’m sure as F*@K not!

Maya Angelou
Still I Rise

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise
Up from a past
that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling
I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.


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