A Virgin of Kripalu

       Upon arriving at the Kripalu Center for Yoga And Health, the first thing I noticed was all the....
       Women.
       For a few minutes, I experienced the sensation of magically exiting current time, space, and reality, and becoming the male lead in one of those formulaic teenager flicks; where the protagonist somehow finds himself the only dude at summer cheerleading camp. Except instead of cheerleader uniforms, the eye candy ocean of healthy, attractive women are clad in tight, sexy, spandex yoga wear. The plot thickens as he realizes that all the women are barefoot. And he has a foot fetish.
       After silently mumbling “Be still my beating heart” a few dozen times, I pulled myself together. And, in truth, the first thing I noticed upon entering Kripalu was not the women; that just made for a good opening line. In fact, the first thing that struck me on my arrival was the entrance to the place itself: Two stone pillars, with soft-light lanterns atop them, on either side of a wide driveway. The pillars were offset behind a rock with a sign on top of it that said “Kripalu”, and sat in front of what appeared to be an endless row of tall leafy trees that disappeared into tranquility; all of that surrounded by a sea of more trees and strikingly green grass. It was a veritable explosion of greenness. I saw the entrance from the road, which itself was a winding, idyllic, tree lined stretch of pavement right out of Yankee magazine. Kripalu looked like the entrance to heaven.
       Once entering, I drove as slow as I could without backing up, because I didn’t want to miss anything (Okay, so the women were actually the third thing I noticed. My opening line was completely fraudulent. Ah, the freedom of creative license.). As the road wound through the natural yet manicured grounds, I felt myself becoming literally engulfed in the atmosphere of the place; as though the branches of the trees that overhung the driveway were gently and welcomingly hugging me into some beautiful, special, and mysterious energy. Flowers, plants, rocks, trees, grass, fields, and stone walls all blended harmoniously, creating a most inviting landscape that I experienced as a perfect balance between wild naturalism and well conceived yet organic order. I though to myself that some divine individual with a lifetime of experience in both Buddhist Meditation and Landscape Architecture must have designed the place.
       Noticing the women didn’t happen until I actually got to the main building a few minutes later. Needles to say (but I’ll say it anyway, because if I didn’t, I’d have to go back and change the line “Needless to say”, which I don’t want to, because I like how it sounds), my first few minutes at Kripalu were extraordinarily memorable.
       Please come back to read more of my incredible experience, at this most incredible of places, in upcoming posts.

©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

I'm With You, Boys

“I want freedom for the full expression of my personality.”
                                      - Mahatma Gandhi


“Don’t be too timid or squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make, the better.”
                                       - Ralph Waldo Emerson


       These two gentlemen put it rather well. In Clintology parlance, it’s living life in vivid technicolor, however that shows up according to the very unique and individual characteristics of your own Television Of Self. And it’s about taking risks, lots of them, as often as possible, and being with the joy, and the discomfort, and the unknowing, and the juice of those risks; learning and growing and expanding and transforming all the while.

Demon T

       Whilst meditating in a cave, a woman was visited by three of her oldest and most powerful demons. As her demons whirled and cavorted around her, taunting, chiding, and attempting to distract her, she kept on meditating. Annoyed because the woman was not reacting to them, her demons intensified their efforts, getting louder and more vicious; yelling and screaming and throwing all sorts of harmful words at her. Still, the woman would not engage them.
       When she was done meditating, she started a fire. The demons became enraged, throwing the worst they could muster at her. They howled horribly hurtful words, called her names, and threw venomously barbed insults. They dug up her most painful wounds. In horrid and vivid detail, they assaulted her with stories of her biggest and most consequential failures. The demons also began causing real physical chaos; tipping over chairs, spitting on the floor, and throwing her possessions all over the cave. Sill, the woman went about her business, not reacting. In fact, she put a tea kettle on the fire and began to boil water.
       Finally, exhausted and frustrated, the demons gave up. They asked her “What the fuck is going on? We are your greatest fears! Your deepest woes! Your worst nightmares! Why aren’t you reacting to us like you usually do?” The woman said, “Well, you’re here now. You’ve been here before. And you’re probably going to be around me the rest of my life. I thought it’s about time we should sit and have some tea together.”
       This week, I’m at Kripalu Center for Yoga & Health, in Stockbridge, Massachusetts.
       Can you tell?


©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

Update on Monday, July 29, 2013 at 4:31PM by Clint Piatelli

I thought this would have been clear, but apparently it was not: I didn't create this story. I just retold it, in my own words. It's an ancient Hindu, Buddhist, or otherwise enlightened philosophy's tale of making friends with your demons instead of trying to get rid of them or fighting with them.

Run Silent, Run Deep

       I have started and stopped about a half dozen different pieces this morning. On top of that, I’ve gone back to another half a dozen writings that are a work in process and tried to finish them. So far, goose egg. So I’m writing about how I’m striking out on the page, which, ironically, is providing me with exactly what I need; something I can write about that I can finish.
       My lack of ability to complete something to post is not because there’s nothing going on for me to write about. It’s not because nothing is coming to me, or that I feel I have nothing to say. On the contrary, there’s a ton of stuff bubbling up inside of me. But, like a cake that isn’t ready yet, it’s still baking.
       I’m experiencing an inward gestation, a time of very personal germination. It’s a time for me to go within, not put something out. Most of the time, both are happening at once; inward journeys accompanied by outward expressions. At present, though, it’s mostly all happening on the inside. So I’m paying attention to that and purposely not sharing, not expressing. Which is hard for me. But something is telling me it’s what I need to do right now.
       There is a strong sense, however, that when I’m ready to share again, it will be an explosion of sorts. I’m turning it all down right now because I’m going to be turning it all up, very loud, pretty soon. But I want my sound to be clear, not distorted. That takes some crafting, some care, some focus. Any rock band can be loud; Spinal Tap proved that. It’s just a matter of turning up the volume to eleven. But the best rock bands are loud because their music sounds better cranked up. The power and passion and message of the music dictates its volume, not the other way around. That’s what I’m shooting for.
       The need to be quiet, as difficult as that is, grounds me. It builds a stronger inner platform. I don’t believe I’ve ever really gotten that until recently.
       If I’m going to jump off a cliff, in order to soar, in order to fly, I first need the bedrock of the cliff under me from which to jump.



©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

Destroyer

       I remember the first time I saw the album cover of Destroyer by Kiss. It was at Camp Becket, during a dance with Chimney Corners, our sister camp just up the road. Music was provided by a band, made up of camp staff members, and a DJ. Milk crates full of records sat right next to the stage, and I took to flipping through them when I wasn’t dancing. Which was often, because back then, I didn’t dance much.
       So I’m flipping through the albums, and I come to Destroyer, which I had never seen before. Holy Fuck. Instant “Deer In The Headlights”. It’s one of those moments where not only the image, but the entire totality of the experience, becomes permanently etched inside of you; I call it Experiential Permafrost. My mind, my body, my heart, my very spirit, were suddenly assaulted with something that was so overwhelming that I literally, absolutely, froze solid. I could do nothing but stare.  
       Suddenly, everything that I was, indeed everything that I had ever been, became completely absorbed in that album cover. In those moments, I ceased to exist; I was beautifully lost in that all consuming image. The rest of existence became nothing more than white noise. My entire universe was that painting. It was the first time in my life that I was acutely aware that I was experiencing something much bigger than myself. It was a spiritual experience. No fuckin’ question about it.
       The spiritual essence came from my identification of something inside of me that was in perfect harmony with, completely connected to, something outside of me that felt bigger than life itself. Some people get that experience in church. I get it in lots of places. This was my first memory of it. Looking at an album cover. At camp. Who would have thunk.  
       That cover invaded my very being, and took me out. Out of space, out of time, out of myself, and then back into myself, all at the same time; like a loop that repeats itself faster than you can think. I could not get enough. Unconsciously, it was the birth of an awareness in me that I could not yet identify. The awareness was that, unlike most teen agers, I didn’t want to escape: I wanted to Metamorphosize. I wanted to Transform. I wanted to Transcend.
       Even in the emotionally turbulent and totally mayhemic world of early teen agers, I was different. Much like the band Kiss, who, even in the positively insane world of rock music, were different. I was, like them, a misfit amongst misfits. Not in the way I dressed though. My unique fashion senseless would develop a little later. Somehow, I knew that, in the words of my writing coach, Anika Nailah, I “shopped in a different isle”.
       Transcending, Transforming, and Metamorphosizing the conventional, or what’s considered “normal”, is something I do naturally, constantly, simply as a function of who I am. I do it on the inside, in the way I think and feel and experience. I do it on the outside, in what I say and in what I do. I’m engaged in the process of assisting others who are interested to do the same. To expand their concepts, and beliefs, and ways of thinking, and attitudes, and feelings, and behaviors. To open them up to the idea that maybe, at least on some scale, in some contexts, there’s a different way to do things, a different way to live. To embrace whatever it is that makes them different, whatever it is that makes them unique, whatever it is that makes them who they truly are, and bring more of that into the world.
       Destroyer remains a talisman for me, even to this day. Whenever I want to remind myself that it’s okay to be different, I stare at that painting for a while. And I just feel better.


©2013 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.