Sadness and Hope

This weekend I lost my black Pekin, Tsoana. She had been wandering around listlessly and I was really at a loss. Do you save a chicken? Take it to the vet? How much is a pet chicken a pet? Part of me worried that she had something contagious and I should kill her before she contaminated the others. Part of me wanted her to die quickly, I could not stand the way she wouldn’t even run away at my approach. You see my chickens may be friendly, but I have no plans to teach them tricks like eating out of my hand. I like that they see me as an other.

This is a strange way to re-start my blog. Pula, the original voice of Coqtales will likewise be no more. He is definitely here in real-life, prancing around, identifying tasty morsels for his wives and crowing with reckless pleasure and fearlessness. I have heard another crowing in the distance. Maybe this chicken-thing is catching on in the neighbourhood. He will disappear as the protagonist of these musings. No more human-rooster chimera. This may diminish the canny observations of a chicken-point-of-view but maybe it will be less confusing to the casual reader.

This time around we are human all the way. The topics will hover around the same juncture. My exploits in the garden, in the yoga studio and my meanderings in-between.

On a happier note, Nonyana, the seabright of the harem is sitting. I was curious what a coupling of her and Pula would produce. At first I was all terror. I could not find her you see. She is the smallest hen and as much as they have taught me every nook and cranny of my back garden, Nonyana is always a challenge. Her creamy colouring and true bantam size at a time when my garden begins to turn to jungle always leaves me a little apprehensive when she disappears and it’s all too clear that she must be sitting. When I did find her I had a big think about eggs and babies. I left one on her nest. Hope. Hope that the egg is a she.

heat

As autumn makes its presence felt the body also starts to turn within. As a yoga teacher this is a time when the student population starts to wane. This month of April with all the holidays is particularly bad because the breaks add to the rate of loss. After settling into warm and comforting rhythms at home students don’t usually return until the stirring of nature outside- the longer days, the fresh green shoots and the chirping of returned bird-life. The nature of yoga is to bring balance to the inner and outer worlds and in this spirit the yogi aims to maintain a strong inner fire as the outer one recedes to northern climes.

Heat. Sanskrit is one of those dense languages with words that are crystallised concepts viewed from an infinity of facets. The word that translates to heat in simple terms is tapas. It can also figuratively describe the austerity, discipline, inner fire, determination and commitment that is required to persevere on the path of Yoga.

tapas- the inner flame

When applied to an asana class tapas is simply the physical heat generated from your practice. In some schools this heat is applied externally to heat up the room, or is encouraged by breathing practices that heat up the body. In the Iyengar system the heat must be generated from within as the fruit of your practice. In cool times it is easiest to appreciate this heat.

My morning practice requires that heat to begin to loosen my muscles, to  permeate those muscles with awareness. It’s as if I unlock my muscles and by so doing release my mind to wander in the field of my body. I was having such lofty thoughts during my own practice and when I taught class last week I noticed something… My winter classes are more aerobic and I was intrigued to see that same heating happen to the class. It felt like more than people warming up. To a practitioner of a group activity like Tai Chi it might make more sense when I say that it was as if there was a release or expression of a group energy.

On those very cold winters days a morning practice seems to permeate my body with that heat. Like a slow burning coal I carry that warmth throughout the day. I realise that this heat translates to that bubbling happiness at the end of a good practice. Those feelings describe a  further definition of tapas: self-purification. How else could you describe the lightness and clarity? In warmer weather I have never made the association of heat with the expression of my body and the calmness of my mind. Isn’t it interesting how the practice of Yoga seems to have the capacity for endless revelation?

50%

Not 50 percents. I can’t stand the guy, why do people like this slurring misogynist? Yup, the beat, the beat… Talib and KRS already covered this one.

Moving right along. 2/4 equals 50%, that is the number of the boys left. Yes! I am pumping my fists like Jomo Sono cheering Bafana Bafana* during better days. The human ran around and

Not quite as good as the video. Thanks SABC

around and around… with a net and some other pole device and actually managed to catch two of them. They flew straight into his net. Geez… some chickens just give us a bad name. I had mixed feelings about this. They are my offspring after all but just as the sorrow settled upon me, the 2 remaining boys tried to pounce some of the girls. I jumped into action to scatter their horny asses back into the shadowy depths of the garden. Now I must send some mind waves to keep the human going. They suffer major trauma after such events and usually slacken off. This cannot be allowed. There can be only one! Moi.

Anyway. Part of my mind wave coercion technique uses subliminal imagery. I am not very familiar with chicken recipes so I need your help.  Please send me some of your favourite, mouth-watering dishes. And stop looking at me like that!!

*Did you note my tip of the hat to the 2010 World Cup rip-off? We are drowning in too much patrioticity to quite realise how much FIFA is taking us for a ride. But that is a rant for another time.