I'm Moving!

To a new site, that is!

New direction, new blog - www.thegothamgreen.com. I'll be focusing on sustainable living in urban areas, and on how YOU can get involved.

As always, thanks for reading!

Inversions like headstand and shoulderstand are the most powerful of the asanas, affecting one physically: reversing the aging process, mentally: stimulating intuition and clarity and spiritually: expanding consciousness leading to enlightenment.

"We tell ourselves stories in order to live. We look for the sermon in the suicide, the social or moral lesson in the murder of five. We interpret what we see, select the most workable of the multiple choices. We live entirely by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the 'ideas' with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience."

- Joan Didion, The White Album

Township Life

Bit after the fact, but I wanted to share some pics of the township we worked with.  Zamani, population 7,000.  

on the way to serve lunch at the primary school

Main Street.

Bathtime.

How I Got My Groove Back (and How New York Can, Too)

I've been having trouble getting into my headstand lately.

No, okay.  To say I've been "having trouble" is an understatement.  What's been happening on my mat is anarchy: a terrifying, graceless show of flopping legs, screwy Popeye the Sailor facial expressions, and a grand finale flurry of frustrated tears.  Stick around long enough, you may even catch an encore of emo.

"What is HAPPENING to me?" runs my mental broken record, as I struggle once more to heave a wobbly gam above my head.  Two weeks ago I could hold this pose with ease.  Two weeks ago I would never let something as silly as a failed yoga posture get to me.  Two weeks ago-

Two weeks ago I was in Africa.

Oh New York.  Never have I encountered a place that challenges me so much, that throws a monkey wrench in my otherwise squeaky clean fixed-gear, and has the ability to turn me upside down (though apparently only in the figurative sense).  Those plane wheels touched down and my centeredness flew away, leaving nothing on the ground but some moldy luggage and a confused sense of self.  

Technology!  A zillion ads for the latest gadgetry bombard me upon landing, offset by the cacophonous bleeping of myriad cellular devices.  I've known this part of New York for five years - still, I was appalled.  I was experiencing a dramatic shift not only in time zone, but in humanity.  No one was shaking hands in greeting here.  Hell, no one was even making eye contact.  We were glued facedown to Facebook, too busy flipping through our emails to look up.  And we were missing the world.  

Gone was Africa.  Gone were the neighbors who walked through my door without knocking, stopping by just to say "hey".  Gone were the wide grins, the tight hugs, and the elaborate handshakes of my African community - a populace that would not hesitate to refer to themselves as my brothers and sisters, even if we'd only met once.  

I came down with a bad case of deer-caught-in-headlights syndrome.  I bumped into things and wandered around aimlessly, unable to tether myself to any normalcy in this concrete jungle.  I watched people and the way they interacted - or rather, failed to.  New York City is home to the most fascinating people in the world - from all walks of life, with the most advanced ideologies and diverse personalities.  The people of New York are its finest asset, the reason so many of us sacrifice comforts like space and - oh, I dunno - air.  How ironic that these days, we're so preoccupied with typing we can't take time to appreciate what we've got.  We're so engaging, but we're too busy staring at the screen to engage each other. Technology is an amazing thing, but in it's advancement it has taken away something priceless: our social mores.

It's been bugging me, to put it mildly.  But the affects of this hypertechnical era aren't just annoying - they're debilitating.  Our dependence on technology is becoming a serious affliction, with people actually being treated for "phantom phone ring syndrome".   With so much at our fingertips, we're finding it harder to focus on the task at hand - even if it's as simple as our breath.  

Which is why I haven't been able to get into my headstand lately.  I haven't been able to get my head to stand still.  All caught up in the cyclone of texts and tweets and apps and links, my mind's been a whirl, and focusing on my breath has been the last thing on my iCal to-do list.  No wonder my practice has sucked.

Plodding out my 4th craptastic class in a week, I knew something had to be done.  I decided to take matters into my own hands - or rather, out of them.  So I hid my phone & laptop, went up on the roof, and sat there.  Up here, twenty stories above the pavement, there were no distractions.  There was no noise.  No buzzes, bleeps or pings.  No appointment reminders or event invitations.  All I could hear was my thoughts, and then a funny thing happened: they stopped.  Palms to the ground, I kicked up - into a perfect, silent headstand.  Toes in the air, eyes to the gunmetal grey sky, things suddenly seemed a lot clearer from this angle.  

I'm not gonna suggest you set your phone on fire (although it would be cool to see what happened if you did).  But maybe, try what I like to call "the South African Social Experiment" today.  When you're done reading this blog, log off.  Leave your phone at home and go for a walk.  Look a stranger in the eye, and then do something crazy.  Say "hello".  

Maybe he'll give you a weird look and keep walking.  Or maybe he'll say hi back.  Whatever the outcome, you'll be starting a cool new trend.  And you might start a great conversation.  Or a friendship.

Who knows?  You might even like it so much that you decide to do it again tomorrow...

"Inspiration is not garnered from the recitation of what is flawed; it resides, rather, in humanity's willingness to restore, redress, reform, rebuild, recover, reimagine, and reconsider. 'Consider' (con sidere) means 'with the stars'; reconsider means to rejoin the movement and cycle of heaven and life."
- Paul Hawken, Blessed Unrest

Goodbye, South Africa

Hello, New York

I recently joked with a friend that people who choose to have an experience such as mine always describe it by copping the cliche "it changed my life".  

Well, add me to the list.  

South Africa.  In it's current state, it's not a place I would choose to put down roots.  Apartheid may be long gone, but there are still a lot of boundaries people are fighting to dismantle.  However, to look at the nation it is now, compared to the one it was 20 years ago...now that's an inspiration.  It's a model for humanity - proof that we have the ability to overcome all odds, and to grow and learn in leaps and bounds.   And, despite it's harsh and insular history, there is incredible warmth and generosity to be found amongst the people here.  It's both a newborn babe of a nation, and a sunny African mama inviting you to sit down and stay awhile.  

So yeah, it changed my life.  Because I don't think it's possible to witness such spirit, such grace in the face of adversity, such unending commitment to the struggle for freedom, without being changed.  So, thank you, South Africa - for your stunning vistas, for acres of quietude, and for the laughter of children.  Thank you for clarity, and for helping me find passion in places I'd never thought to look before.  Thank you for allowing me to unplug, and in doing so, reconnect with the things that really matter in this world.  And thank you, for proving that one person really can make a difference, and for proving that person could be me.  

Or you, for that matter!  If you're interested in learning more about SheWinS, or about further volunteer opportunities in South Africa, please contact me at lizbethmead82@gmail.com.  There's a great deal of work to be done.

And last, but certainly not least, thank you to everyone who's been following this blog!  Your support's meant more than words can express.  And fear not, faithful readers - turns out, I kinda dig this whole blogging thing, and plan to keep on a'posting.  

From New York, with jet lagged love.

- Liz