I Hate Yoga

       I hate yoga. It’s uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Which is exactly why I’m doing more of it.
       It can be difficult, sometimes, to know the difference between doing something we don’t like because it’s good for us (like in this case, yoga), and doing something we don’t like because it’s bad for us (like driving sixteen-penny nails through our eyeballs). When do we just suck it up, and when is sucking it up just getting us in more trouble? That’s not always clear. But some things are becoming more vivid as I draw parallels between my fledgling yoga practice and the rest of my life.
       First and foremost, I have to show up. For yoga and for life. That means I get my ass into the game, even if that sometimes means just hopping out of bed, or showing up for a class. Whether I want to or not. And sometimes, I don’t. Not so much in life, but certainly for yoga. And, although such days are very few and far between, even getting out of bed some days wouldn’t be my first choice. And I’m not talking about those days when I wake up next to a beautiful woman and all I want to do is explore the Karma Sutra. I’m talking about the rare “I just don’t want to get up” days, when just showing up at all is a victory.
       But showing up is rudimentary. Now it’s time to actually do stuff. Yoga has shown me just how resistant I can be. My body fights the poses. Part of this is because I’m physically tight. As in “not flexible”. My body is used to resistance. My workout history is primarily weight training, which is all about putting up a fight. Thirty-five years of pumping iron, without enough stretching or other flexibility based modalities, will tend to make one tight.
       Working with weights since I was fifteen has made me comfortable with resistance. I’m at home with it. On a cellular level. It’s the world I’ve trained myself to be in. I know how to resist a weight and then force that weight through to completion. In the world of barbells and dumbbells, that’s how it works. In the world of yoga, not so much. My body is so used to resistance, to fighting and forcing my way through it, that it does so automatically. Instead of flowing and breathing into a yoga pose, I fight it. I’m physically unconscious about it. Only when I remind myself, physically and mentally, that “I’m not supposed to resist this” do I gain the ability to move with the motion, with the pose, instead of against it.
       This is the way it is with my body, as I’ve become acutely aware of after doing two and a half weeks of yoga classes. There is a saying that goes “The way you do yoga is the way you do life”. So I started asking myself how often in my life do I engage in resistance? How often do I just muscle through something, attempting to essentially force it (like during a bicep curl), instead of allowing it to unfold (like during a yoga pose)? How often do I act from force in an attempt to control, instead of acting from intentional effort and allowing things to flow? Put another way, how often do I create space in my life for things to happen?
       Forcing things is a learned behavior. So it can be unlearned. And I’m not talking about doing nothing at all and just waiting to see what happens. I’m not talking about passivity. I’m talking about allowing. I’m talking about creating space within the spheres of my life where space is as much a requirement as action. Which is basically all spheres. Even in pumping iron, you have to let the weight down. You have to allow the muscles to rest; in between reps, in between sets, and then for days at a time. Space is part of the equation. You have to give your body the space it needs to grow and change. I sometimes forget that. In the gym and in my life. I more naturally focus on the force. But the space has to be there. It’s an integral, vital, indispensable part of the overall process; of growth, of change, of development, of transformation. Of life itself.
       That’s why yoga is so hard for me. It feels like I should be forcing the pose. But when I do, it just feels like shit. That’s the opposite of pumping iron. In the act of lifting, when I force the weight up, it feels good. So in a way, it’s flipping what I know, what I’m comfortable with, on it’s head.
       On the other side of this is the realization that, in the rest of my life, as in yoga, I have great capacity for flow. I have great capacity to allow, and to create space. I just don’t always see it. And I don't always do it. Especially when I’m cursing my way through Warrior One, or some variation of Twisted Pretzel Position Twelve. When I get out of my own way, I naturally create space for many beautiful and wonderful things in my life to happen. For many wonderful and beautiful things to unfold.  
       But I have to be mindful of this. I have to bring a conscious awareness to it. I have to practice it. My over arching paradigm can not be one of force. My over arching paradigm can, instead, be one of conscious effort with clear intent, followed by letting go. I can engage in appropriate action and simultaneously practice allowance. I can create both the inspired acts and the space needed for those acts to take whatever wing will be.
       I’m discovering that my yoga, like my life, is more of a dance. And less of a bench press.

©2014 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

Mind Addict

       There’s so much going on inside me, that I can’t even settle on an opening sentence. So I’m just going to state that, and use that very immediate truth as my opening sentence. There. Done. Glad that’s out of the fucking way.
       In a way, this is a perfect reflection of how my life feels to me a lot of the time. I’m an internal combustion chamber of thoughts, feelings, wants, needs. But it’s all coming from my head. I’m addicted to my mind.
       Hello, my name is Clint. I’m a Mind Addict.
       This is not necessarily news to me. But at a workshop this past weekend, I got this old news in a new way. So it’s old and new, all at once. Very zen.
       What is clear to me now, or clearer to me than ever before, is the urgency at which I need to kick this addiction. My life depends on it.
       I’m not talking about my physical life. Technically, I’ll keep living if I remain addicted to my mind. But that’s all I’ll be. Living. Existing. Not truly thriving. Not truly creating. Not doing much of anything that sets me apart from plants or animals. Nothing wrong with plants or animals. I love them. And they serve sacred purposes on this planet. But I’m not a plant or an animal. So I can’t serve their purpose.
       My mind is a beautiful, wondrous tool. It’s actually a magnificent assortment of tools. An absolutely unique and amazing toolbox. But I don’t relate to it as such. I relate to it as just about everything I am. I treat it like a god. Like it can answer all my questions and solve all my problems. Like it can make me happy. In effect, I’m treating a toolbox like a deity. And I’m trying to solve the problem with the problem.
       Again, this is not news to me. But the urgency is. The urgency is new. The urgency I’ve never felt before. I’ve known this before. I’ve realized this many, many times. What I haven’t realized, until now, is the death that accompanies this paradigm. This paradigm of mind as deity. This paradigm of over identifying with my mind. This death sentence that I’ve put upon myself as long as I stay addicted.
       Whilst meditating this weekend, I came face to face with how I deal with life. Face to face with my over riding mental construct of existence. Which, because I’m a Mind Addict, amounts to the near totality of my reality. I came face to face with my inability to be in the present moment. Even as I write this, part of me isn’t here. Part of me is in the past or in the future or off in space, daydreaming. Luckily, enough of me is present to pull this particular task of writing off. Luckily, enough of me is here to create and produce. And through that, thus hopefully able to contribute and express and impact and touch and move.
       Like a broken record, I repeat, this is not news to me. What is news is the sound of the death rattle that sure as shit accompanies it. I haven’t heard that before. I still don’t hear it so much as know it. Whatever. I’m aware of it.  
       I am grateful for this desperation. I am grateful for this sense of urgency, bordering on panic. And that gratitude for sensations like desperation and panic is new to me as well. Instead of being ashamed of these sensations, I thank them. Because without them, I probably wouldn’t be doing things much differently.
       And if I didn’t do things differently, my life would not be terrible. It would still be one that most would envy. Maybe I would come to a new peace with it and it wouldn’t feel like death. I don’t know. I’m not trying to predict the future. I’m staying in the now. And all I can say, is, now, to stay addicted to my mind feels like a prison sentence. A comfortable prison, yes. A prison of travel and adventure and fun. But a prison no less. And I can have fun and adventure and travel without it feeling like a sort of prison. I can travel and have adventure and fun without being a Mind Addict. Kind of like a coke fiend who used to go on cruises carrying an eight ball with him, but now chooses to leave the eight ball out of the equation. Much different experience.
       Most of us are addicted to our minds. Allow me to share more of my personal experience with this. But not right now. This moment asks me to wrap it up.
       Peace.


   
©2104 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.          

Am I?

Am I running
Or am I searching?
Am I inspired
Or am I distracted?
Am I growing
Or is my life just getting smaller?
Am I hiding in plain sight
Or am I an open book inside a cage?
Am I writing something
Or is something writing me?
Am I moved
Or is the rest of my existence just standing still?
Am I blind
Or do I see a light so bright that it burns away everything else around me?
Am I lost
Or I have found myself in a place I just don’t recognize?

                    -  Clint Piatelli

Crocktopus

       The television show Modern Family, one of my absolute all time favorites, aired a poignant episode. It spoke to something I write about all the time, and it did so in a humorous yet powerful way.
        Claire and Phil, one of the show's main married couples, have this great moment when they are at the movie theatre together to see Crocktopus. This husband and wife duo share a love of cheesy “B” horror movies, and Crocktopus fits the bill perfectly, being about the attack of a giant mutant hybrid of crocodile and octopus (brilliant concept, all around, by the way). On top of their mutual love of Crocktopi, they also share a disdain for the rules of movie viewing. So Claire is sneaking in wine coolers, and Phil is sneaking in a two hour supply of Twix candy bars for two. They both make bad play on word jokes to each other about their sneaky behavior.
       The two lovers are totally in sync with each other, connected in both attitude and behavior. Phil has this wonderful line just before he kisses his wife, when he says “I love us”. It’s a beautiful moment in the middle of a very silly and humorous situation. Which is one of many things I love about the show; it’s ability to dance between tenderness and humor, between the soft glow of love and the hard humor of that same love.
       Seconds after the “I love us” moment, just before they are about to enter the theatre for two hours of glorious, entertaining mayhem, they bump into the parents of the smartest kid in the seventh grade. Earlier that day, Claire and Phil’s daughter, Alex, let them both know that she is apparently the second smartest kid in the seventh grade, and that she’s very concerned about being number two. Moreover, Alex lets them know that this kid’s parents are brilliant, and that she is doing the best she can with what she’s been given. She’s insinuating, of course, that Phil and Claire just aren’t that smart. The couple realize her insinuation, and are a little hurt by it. This child/parent banter happens over Phil and Claire’s discussion about going to see the matinee of Crocktopus. It’s a brilliant scene, and a juxtaposition that’s not lost on Alex, as it underscores her parent’s supposed lack of intelligence.
       This is all a set up for what happens next. The “brilliant parents” are going to see a French film in the same theatre. When asked what film they are going to see, Claire and Phil say that they are going to see the same French film. Moreover, they make a point of saying that they’re certainly not there to see Crocktopus.
       It’s a fabulously executed point, and one that immediately struck a chord with me. For how often do we do just what Claire and Phil did? How often do we deny ourselves to ourselves? How often we deny ourselves to others? How often do we deny ourselves what we truly are, what we truly love, and who we truly are, because we are more concerned with appearing a certain way to the world at large?
       In the moments just before the about face in order to appear more intelligent, Claire and Phil share a simple yet beautiful celebration of themselves, a celebration of each other, a celebration of their special relationship. When Phil says “I love us” and the couple kiss, they are affirming who they are to each other, they are affirming what they love to each other, and they are affirming that sacred intersection of love between them. And yet, just a few moments later, those powerful and special affirmations are thrown aside and completely denied, because of how they want  to look to other people.  
       The contrast between what they really love and who they want to appear to be in that moment is supremely stark, and illustrates the point with added emphasis. It speaks to the power we give to what others think of us over the power of owning and celebrating who and what we are. Public opinion, and the need to to conform and measure up to cultural benchmarks, is so potent that we are often willing to sacrifice ourselves, to sacrifice our very essence, just to get it. How often do we deny a special, unique, beautiful piece of us, a piece that gives us pleasure and joy, a piece that actually creates love, because we want others to approve of us?
       I call that “Kissing The Porcelain God Of Acceptance”. We worship a false prophet at the expense of our own inner divinity. And, just like spending hours at the foot of a toilet, such behavior that seemed necessary at the time can leave us horrified upon reflection.
       I’m not immune to this. I’m just better at navigating it than most. I too feel the constant pull to be accepted, to look a certain way, to appear one way even though it goes against something deep inside of me. It’s important to be aware of this, and to learn how to sail through it. Sometimes that sail is a beautiful cruise where the wind is with you, the waves are just right, and the sun is shining and bouncing off the water like magic. And other times, that sail is through a maelstrom, a storm of self, that can feel like an act of survival. What matters is that we keep sailing through it, no matter what the weather.
       To honor and be present to who we are is a wonderful act of self love. To deny that is an act of self sabotage. To be engulfed in what we love and celebrate that is a party of the soul, where we invite the world and don’t care who shows up. The fact that we’re in fact throwing the party, and daring to invite all of humanity, is what’s important. Is all that’s important. That’s the juice.
       And when we have that attitude, when we truly come from there, we attract people. We attract the right people. Without trying to. We get the love and the connection we so desire, but not because we’re altering ourselves to get it. Not because we have an agenda. We get it because we’re being real, because we’re taking the risk of being ourselves, and those on our vibration pick up on that and resonate with us. What starts off as a sacred solo becomes a sacred symphony.


©2014 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.   

Fifty Fuckin' One

       Turned fifty-one the other day. Or as a friend would say, “Fifty-Wonderful”. Or, as I would say, “Fifty-Fuckin’-One”. Not because I’m upset about being that age. I just like the way it sounds. Like great rock lyrics, the phrase doesn’t necessarily have to make sense. It just has to sizzle and pop and have attitude. Like “Fifty Fuckin‘ One”.
       I suppose a lot of my life, on one level, could be metaphoric to great rock lyrics. To many, painting my house purple, or sponge painting my car once the book value was practically nill, or starting a very revealing blog at forty-five, didn’t make any sense. But it all made sense to me. And by “sense” I mean that those actions simply worked for me. They helped my life sizzle and pop. Those actions just completely and harmonically resonated with me.
       What I did on my fifty-first birthday made sense to me as well. I had breakfast with a friend, ate really clean all day, worked out when I checked into my hotel at night, and got to bed early. Here I am the next morning, writing before I ski all day.
       The art of our life is ours to create. How can each of us bring more of ourselves to our lives? How can we infuse more of our actions with more of our essence? How can we bring more creativity, more vibrancy, more expression, more artistic sensibility to our lives? That’s a question I want us to answer together. I know how to do that pretty well, but I’m always learning more, always digging deeper, always looking to bring more and more of that to my life. As I do that, I want to assist others in doing the same. I know I can do that. The book I’m writing on this skibatical speaks to all of that.  
       When I play the drums, if I’m playing well, if I’m helping the band sound like we’re on fire and we’re moving people, it’s not because I’m playing with better technique. It’s because I’m bringing more of what makes me ME to my playing. It’s because I’m bringing more of my self, more of my essence, to my playing. That great amalgamation of tangibles and intangibles that make me who I am; my personality, attitude, perspective, mind, energy, the way I hear a song, and the big one, My Heart - when I bring more of all that to my playing, well, things cook. And, lo and behold, when I do that, as a consequence, I find my technique is better, that my chops are at the top of my game. Because of all that essence is chock full of fluidity and playfulness and presence. All of which is essential to execution, which is the bedrock of better technique and solid chops.
       When it comes to drumming, I’m at my best when I bring a Barely Controlled Reckless Abandonment to my playing. Come to think of it, I’m at my best when I bring that energy to the bedroom as well. In fact, I could say the same thing about most of my creative pursuits. Maybe to most of life.
       Despite what it sounds like, a Barely Controlled Reckless Abandonment (B.C.R.A.) is neither close to being out of control nor truly reckless. But it’s not on a leash either. It’s an energy, an attitude, that’s harnessed but not necessarily confined by distinct boundaries; because if you harness it properly, it finds its own limits, pushes its own envelope. It essentially governs itself. You have to trust that. You have to trust your own energy. You create this energy as you bring forth what’s best in you, what’s most alive in you, what’s in your heart and at your core, and then you release it. And then you trust it. You flow with it. If you stay in the flow, this energy doesn’t get out of control, nor does it wreak havoc. In other words, it doesn’t become counter productive to your pursuits. It drives and enhances self expression, creativity, love.
       Usually, it’s hard for us to let go that much. It’s hard for us to trust ourselves, to trust our essential energy, to trust our power, that much. The result is that often, that power isn’t coming from very deep within us. Instead, we ride this superficial energy that doesn’t spring from the very depths of who we are. It springs from what we think people want to see, or from who we think we should be. It’s a safer version of our true energy, a watered down version, a more acceptable incarnation. Basically, it’s more user friendly to the rest of the planet, but it’s less user friendly to you, to the one creating it. It’s thus less authentic. And thus it usually doesn’t unleash what we’re really all about.
       This year, I will bring more of that B.C.R.A. to my life. And I will assist others in doing so as well. For that has all the markings of a more meaningful, more fulfilling, and more eventful life. A life richer not only in breadth, but depth. That’s what it means to me to be Fifty Fucking One.



©2014 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.