Sparrow asked me if I wanted to do another forty days of yoga with her. That’s forty days of yoga in a row. Starting…now! No, well, starting today.* Forty is a very auspicious number. Connected with all the major religions. A number of great transformation.
I’m hitting some new points in my practice these days. Just beginning to get into some arm balances, like crow. I can finally get into full wheel. But I’m butting up against some plateaus, too.
And the rest of my life is like that, too. I’m overcoming some things, and ending up in some of the same damn places over and over again. I have major problems with tardiness and procrastination still, but I’m beginning to face my fears. Things aren’t that terrifying.
A great way to get out of some ruts is to shake some shit up. So I’m going to shake some shit up with some yoga and meditation. I’ll do another goddamned kitchari fast and clean out my pipes. Maybe I’ll even give up sugar† for a little while.
Anyhow, I wanted to invite y’all with me. Wanna do some different shit for forty days? You don’t gotta. But if you’re feeling anything like me, and wanting a deeper connection with yourself, or the greater world, or someone else, or Justin Bieber, (maybe all of these things are one and the same for you–did I just Blow YOUR MIND? If so, those weren’t corn nuts you ate) now is good time to do something. I mean, if not now, then when? Once upon a time called right now, the Prophet George Clinton told us, we could get funky. We could increase the funk in our lives. We could stop stepping on the funk we took home, and get the real P-Funk.
Today, I will ask myself, how can I get the uncut funk? How can I get funked up? Yoga helps me get there, to a higher state of awareness of funk. Yoga and meditation. And funk, of course. Closer to a Mothership Connection.
If you want me to swing by while I’m my sweet chariot, holla at a bitch. Happy to swoop you up on my forty day journey.
*I’m a little hopped up on fruit. Well, on a smoothie. Smoothie. Such a gross word. Sounds like something that came out of your butt. Someone almost made a smoothie in yoga class yesterday. It smelled fucking nasty, man. Happy Baby pose was not happy. Corpse pose killed us all.