The Adventures of a Being Called Sitar: Why You Should Shave Your Head

The Adventures of a Being Called Sitar: Why You Should Shave Your Head: Ladies: A few reasons to shave your head: 1. C'mon, you know you've always wanted to try it. 2. 5 Minute Showers 3. 30 second towel...

BIG MOVE

I'm moving to

A Being Called Sitar   ...
writing as Sitar,
higher form of "who I am"

Check it out if you're so inclined,
be patient
I have new directions to go,
Sitar is the only one who can go there.

Questioning

looks comfy, no?

I am questioning everything right now -- myself, others, what the world is and what it isn't, what perception and reality really mean... Generally feeling like a lost puppy.
We're working on Restorative Yoga in school right now. Restorative allows all of the muscles of the body to relax by supporting the body with pillows, bolsters, blankets, etc -- to me it's like recreating the ultimate cushioning and support of the womb. The reason for relaxing all of the muscles is to give the body a break from ACTION and allow it to heal "non-threatening" injuries, reboot/strengthen the immune system; basically to give it time to start ticking things off the "To-Do" list that get pushed to low priority when we deal with stress, illness, change, etc. Old emotions and traumas are stored in our muscles (do you clench your jaw when you're angry? shrug your shoulders up by your ears when you're nervous?), getting stuck and forming energy blocks. While we can stretch and relax in regular Hatha class, we still don't completely let go, because we're working against gravity-- muscles are being stretched, the body reacts with a small contraction, feeling it needs to keep itself stable. The women in the above picture, for example, are doing a reclined butterfly. Take away the cushions under the knees, and the hips feel unsupported -- the knees are being pulled by gravity, and the body goes "Oh no! Legs are going to snap out of hips! Contract, contract, CONTRACT!" But put the cushions under the knees, and the hips and inner thighs, the entire leg really, can sink into the cushions, and muscles that are always used in standing, sitting, walking, stablizing -- these guys can finally relax.

Knowing from the Mat Expanded to Thoughts

Had a point when starting this... please help me find it lol 

Why does the ego separate itself into seemingly individual components, that pick on each other or band together? 
      The ego cannot exist without being perceived by the Mind, and tricks the Mind into believing that the Mind will cease to exist without being perceived by the ego. The Mind becomes a function of the ego, simultaneously squashing and reviving the ego to confirm it, the Mind, is still there, computing and perceiving, existing. But if existence as we know it is a function of perception, the ego will always exist so long as we have a Mind, so long as we perceive -- trying to understand and analyze, put words and explanations to, instead of Being and Knowing. If the Mind couldn't create questions and/or observations, in its individual capacity, could it be aware of its existence? The awareness has to have something to be aware of.

We live by the concept that dialogue constitutes existence.

 Waves on one beach ebb, on the opposite beach they flow; a back and forth rapport that never stops. But if the Moon stopped orbiting the Earth, would waves cease to exist? Light would still arrive at Earth in wavelengths, though we can`t see the ebb and flow of connected rays of light from the sun; we perceive a sunny day as one endless time of light. Even when clouds pass through the sky, light is perceived as one continuous stream; the clouds interrupt it.
If we aren't above ground to perceive the sunny day, does the continuous time of light exist? 
Who receives the waves as they flow, and who misses them when they ebb? The beach, the sand, ... But what about the microscopic organisms in the sand...?
We don't see them, yet they validate the existence of the ocean waves by being there, by their own existence -- they perceive the waves in their own capacity. Since we don't see these organisms, or experience them directly, do they not exist? And if they don't exist, do waves not exist in the times that a human isn't near enough to perceive them? 

A tree falls in the forest, and no one`s around. Does it make a sound?
The ego says no. There was no one to create a dialogue with the sound, a response or rebuff, no one to ignore it and thereby validate the existence of something to be ignored.
The Jnana yogi says, what tree?
The Mind says "I don't think I know." 
The Heart knows the ground receives the tree with a sigh as the dirt below compacts under the weight; the birds who built their nest become homeless as the tree falls; neighbouring trees feel sadness for the loss of their friend, and excitement for his new life on the ground as a nursery log; the bugs, initially shaken by the rumble as the tree hits the Earth, rejoice at the arrival of a massive new feeding ground and home. 

Perhaps dialogue constitutes existence, existence as we perceive it in our limited physical brain. But this Mind sensing existence is only a function of perception (I think, therefore I am). Perception is a side effect of existence, but awareness of existence comes from perception. So, do you still exist if you're not aware that you exist, if you're not aware that to others you exist? 

There is no such thing as existence or non-existence; words are a feeble yet mighty attempt to explain the unexplainable, that which can only be experienced without perception.  Existence is a concept, and concepts are not Real.

 

This all came to me while working on yoga flow for school. It took over an hour to put into words, and still I feel there's much more I could expand on, turn around and contradict to prove points. However we all KNOW the underlying point; expand your consciousness beyond perception. It's all in the inference, as usual. 

A Lesson in the Ego

  Today I went for a swim at the pool, having been too busy to work out all week. I was super excited to be there, with my goggles and front crawls ready to go.
Being new to the whole thing, I opted to share the slow lane with an older woman.
As I was swimming on my back, I saw her splashing closer&closer to my feet, her head above the water.
 Already beginning to be irritated, I maintained my pace, waiting for her to move to the side to pass me ... but her hand slid across my toes, and in a huff, I fluttered off to the side, continuing to swim parallel to her. It happened again, and I angrily thought,
"I should say something. Who does she think she is, swimming into me, twice, and her head's out of the water!"
Then I asked myself,
"Why are you so angry? Is it really because she swam into you, because she didn't apologize like YOU would ... or is it because she's not acknowledging your existence, and the ego doesn't like that?" I smiled, knowing it was the latter. I continued swimming, being mindful of the where the woman was.

As I was getting dressed, the woman walked into the change room, the ball on her red&white bottomed cane bumping rhythmically across the floor.
<3

missing the trees

beautiful forests of my hometown

Meeting Strangers in Vancouver

Let me begin by saying I've been somewhat of an introvert for the last three years. Naturally though, I'm a chatty motherfucker, and I love to meet new people. Cities are a great place to do this, especially big cities like Vancouver. I don't have to walk more than three blocks to meet skaters, people on their lunch break, construction workers and mostly harmless homeless people – or, people who smell homeless. A big variety, is what I['m trying to get at. I'll cite some examples from the last three days.

Day 1, I'm dying for a cigarette. I've made it to the stage where I don't have any of my own, but I bum or buy, or trade, for one around eight-nine o'clock ish at night. I've only got a looney, and I'm hoping to get one for tomorrow too, so I don't have to meander about downtown Van in the dark. I trudge up to the library, grumpy and not expecting to have much luck; I haven't seen a single smoker go past. My spidey sense tingles as I pass two men in their forties on the steps.

“Hey there, do either of you gentlemen smoke? Could I buy one or two off ya?”

“No, no, here, just have one, here's a few for the road!”

“Thank you, sir, how's your evening going?”

I sit and chat with Chris Seymoure, allegedly a world bridge champion (google search turned up two plausible results), and Kevin. Chris just about chats my ear right off my head; bridge this, my old lady that. I learn that 'my old man' would not be my father like i previously thought, but my boyfriend. Ontarians and their slang... :P

I'm quite interested in Kevin though, he keeps piping in with very conscious, aware observations, and just has a very grounded vibe. He seems to get irritated with Chris, and leaves. I finish their gift of a Palm Bay, and head back home to bed.

Halfway back, a baby faced Native guy asks if he can bum a smoke. Knowing exactly how he feels, I feel bad saying no, but I've only got the one and it's for tomorrow.

“I'm sorry man! But if you've got a second, I'll you the story of why I can't...”

We talk while he rolls a cigarette of butt sluts, just fucking gnarly. I don’t even want to know where the butts came from.

“Birch bark trees, you know them? Ever seen a birch bark tree in the summer? Seen a birch bark tree in the fall? Winter? They're totally dead in the winter, they start dying in the fall. But Spring! Birch bark trees come back to life in the spring!”

“Like a phoenix,” I comment, grinning over how many times he's said Birch Bark tree in stumbling to make his point.

'Exaaaactlyyyyy, man, like a phoenix!” He shakes his head, laughing. “Where do you come from? I mean – wha – why are you here? Just.,.. where the fuck did you come from, man,” he yells, flailing his arms at me like a seriously smashed Vanna White.

“I'm a faerie elf, I mean a wood elf,” I laugh, knowing I actually am a little forest creature.

Day 2: School lets out at five. The Science Park is still sunny and warm, dotted with older men browned by the sun like caramelized sugar. Feeling particularly confident and empowered, I find a nice flat spot to practice Pigeon pose. An hour and a half later, I head home, taking a shortcut through one of the arenas. I remember Chris and Kevin telling me about a skate park of sorts being down at the Terry Fox memorial/monuments, and on a whim, I decide to go check out the scene. In all honesty, I wanted a smoke, and was feeling lonely. What better way to counteract that than to interact with strangers!

For a few minutes, I stand on the sidelines, feeling like a bit of a creep. I'm enjoying my iPod, scoping out the skaters and getting a sense of not only who smokes, but who is most likely to let me trade for one. There's a group of four guys who look to be on the edge of early-mid twenties, inching towards late; 26-27 at the most, I thought, but more likely 23-24. Next to them are two men, one obviously older, drinking beers and basically oohing and aahing over the skaters. I decide to approach the younger of the two older men, since the four guys are doing that thing where they check me out in what they think is ninja-style. I smile at them, they look away; I laugh to myself and walk over.

“Hey man, do you think I could bum a smoke off you?” I smile, already in “endearingly-cute mode”, an effect of being around so much testosterone.

“Pff! You can have a few, my dear! Would you like a beer?”

I sit and chat with Richard, and a bit with his uncle Ron, for a couple hours. Initially Rich is a pretty chill guy, talking about working up in the oil fields versus working down here as a rodbuster (*snicker*), his kids, his ex and his medical marijuana connection. After an hour though, he's repeating himself, and I start focusing my energy on the skater in the Ron Burgundy shirt.

I let him know I'm watching him, dropping any ninja-style tactics that I might have had going on. When Richard gets up to piss on a wall around the corner, Burgundy-guy comes over to his friends. Feeling really drawn to his energy, I'm sick of waiting for him to come introduce himself.

“Hey man, what's your name? John? Nice to meet you, I'm Rbonka. Where are you from?”

John takes a seat against the wall next to me, leaving Rich's 'spot' open. Rich and I are sharing a joint, which I offer to John, knowing he'll chat a lot longer if I do. He starts rolling one of his own, and we talk about his lower back getting hurt the other day, going to the Vapour Lounge and him being my practice yoga student. When it's been dark for an hour or so, Rich and Ron leave, Rich obviously pissed at Ron because Ron doesn't want to stay and chat with me. John and his friends remain, and god it's like dealing with a bunch of girls, I swear. The conversation dies, and I have to carry it, which quite frankly is exhausting so I gap out while they discuss a pro retiring to run his dads company. I'm bored, this has run its course. I grab Johns number and am making a sandwich at home in 5 minutes,.

Day 3. Last night I was laying in bed, feeling lonely. I wanted a cigarette, but more, I just wanted to have a conversation. As a very general rule, weed is the best social tool for a young'in in Vancouver, or anywhere in BC actually, as every third person you pass likes to partake. Whether it's once in a blue moon, or every three hours, there's someone within shouting distance who likes to get high. Cigarette smokers, on the other hand, are increasingly becoming a rarity (Where are we on the endangered list, I'd like to know>?). So I whip my supplies into my purse, a consolation prize if I cant win a deathstick.

There's no one out at the Terry Fox memorial/monuments, save for a creepy dude huddled over a backpack in his lap. I sit on a block far away from him and quietly take in the surroundings. Just as I'm thinking I'll go smoke-free tonight, a woman comes out of a nearby pub and sits next to a running Terry statue. Without hesitation, I get up, and feeling like a great white, glide purposefully towards her. I'm wondering why I'm going to her, she doesn't strike the Spidey Sense as a good candidate, but my legs keep going, confident that's where I'm supposed to be.

“Hi there, I'm Rbonk. Do you think I could bum a smoke off you?”

She doesn't have any others, but calls out to the man walking towards us, calling him Chef. He goes back to the pub and when he gets back, tosses a pack of cigarettes at me. The three of us talk about the text-to-landline robot lady voice, the woman giggling over all the dirty things her friends have texted to her landline.

“That bitch'll say anything! Can you imagine ... the lady had to actually sit there and say those words for the robot to know!” She finishes her smoke, smiles and tells me she's got to go back to work. Chef takes her spot on the steps beside me, and we talk about languages, accents, the importance of stretching for the same duration as a sustained muscle contraction, and planning out the best munchies before even toking, Our cigarettes have long since been stubbed out, and he's got to head back to work, but the conversation is effortless. I'm really enjoying having blown his mind with the whole stretching thing.

“Do you come down here every night? If you're up to it, you should come back tomorrow, we could get a beer and have a smoke when I get off work.”

“Well I'm eighteen, but a smoke and chat would be great! I can bring my supplies too if you'd like to try, yea for sure man, when do you get off?” So I have plans to go back tonight, around the same time.

As soon as the Chef's left, I feel more than see a twenty something eyeing me up across the steps. I look at him, smiling invitingly, and say hello.

“Hi! I just have, uh, one question, I don't mean to annoy you, but, can you just smoke anywhere here? Like, do you have to worry about the cops?” I try to place his accent, a sort of Australian, but it lilts all over the place so much I figure it's a speech impediment. Like when I met Jean-Paul, not Sean-Paul, like I thought.

The new guy turns out to be a Californian visiting Vancouver with his dad. It's his last night here, and he went sky diving earlier in the day. I watch the video; we chat non-stop for an hour and a half before he's running back to his hotel, hilariously one building away from my digs.

Making friends with strangers is awesome. You don't have to worry about winning their approval or impressing them, because you can walk away at any time and it doesn't matter. Honestly, you'll probably never see the person again, unless you take steps to ensure you will ;p. If you get bored, you can make up an appointment or class, whatever, and leave. If you don’t want to be YOU for a day, hey, why not be someone a little different. It's kind of like dress up, but with people and personalities.

I'm guilty of liking to use people as sounding boards for my ideas. I also like to teach them what I learned that day, or a few days before at school, because it cements it in my brain. It doesn't hurt either, when a twenty-eight year old, thirty-two year old, forty-something year old, is flipping out and just ecstatic to be talking to you because ... you are you, and not like anyone else they can think of at the time. And before I make it out to be a pure ego pump-up for myself, and important part of this whole thing is listening to them. There are some seriously interesting people out there, smart, hilarious, ridiculous and practical people out there, with lots of things to share. City streets are a goldmine of information, and I'm tapping this resource.