I left the link for the Ann Patchett piece out last letter — here it is!
I almost completed a yin teacher training course today, with just a teaching class to go tomorrow. It fitted in well with Covid isolation—my case was super mild. (Losing close to all smell and taste was discombobulating but not devastating. I was lucky.) Of course the trainees and trainers all shared the easiest way to stay in touch with each other: Instagram. Feeds are filled with a lot of people doing a lot of yoga.
It got me thinking about how we represent yoga online. Did you ever hear the story about the women who were shown sexist ads consecutive over the course of a few hours for a research project? At first they were able to shrug off seeing them, but at a certain point they cracked and got furious about it all and wouldn’t watch anymore? I can’t find a source, but I remember hearing about it. While I wouldn’t go that far, I fear that the proliferation of images of people doing full expressions of challenging poses (and I’m not talking about the natural photos of my new trainee/trainer pals… more the Instagram suggestions of “influencers” that chase them up) actually turns some people off the idea of ever coming to a class. They are the people very closely related to the people who show up to class saying variations of, “I’m very inflexible, I can’t touch my toes, yoga’s not really my thing.”
But then I got to thinking about how I almost never post photos of me doing yoga (or me, generally) and how that is possibly much more about vanity and ego than anyone posting a photo of themselves doing say a classic standing-bow-at-sunset. Because even the most basic asanas, when done with the right alignment—and props—and not necessarily much depth, can look incredibly serene and beautiful. Perhaps diversity is not just about sharing posts of non-white, non-stick-thin people doing extreme yoga, but about people doing very simple poses, far from their full expression, to encourage more people to show up to class, any class.
Reading
Losing a sense of taste and smell was really strange—it was more dramatic than just a headcold, particularly with no congestion whatsoever. This piece on anosmia (pre-dating Covid) is worth a read.
He is irked by the false cheer of people who say things like, “Can’t you enjoy texture?” He grabs the towelling barmat on the table. “This is texture! Do you enjoy this?”
A clever way to bring people on the US-Mexico border together.
The aim, San Fratello said, was to show that "play can be an act of resistance".
Still closing tabs I opened around new year’s! I like this one.
On days where I feel overwhelmed by the tasks ahead of me, I set a timer and get to it. I remind myself: you can do anything for 15 minutes.
Psychedelics. The key to connectedness?
… (M)omentous shifts in perspective can come from fleeting moments of epiphany such as those experienced by Brand or the crew of Apollo 8.
Distraction. How to avoid it.
When we begin to understand what we’re trying to avoid by clicking over to Twitter or checking the news for the 10th time today, we can begin to address the issue itself, and not medicate it through more distraction. We also begin to appreciate how habitual the act of avoiding discomfort via distraction can be, and how much it’s become a part of how we work and live.
Cooking
This for lunch today.
Chillies/carrot hot sauce as a project for this next week or two. This for this week: Coconut, ginger and mushroom noodles. And this. How could you not want to make something called bejewelled rice? Nobody likes lentils in this house except me, so I’m going to hide them in this mushroom lentil lasagne.
And this for a snack. (Using a non-palm oil Nutella copy. Don’t use Nutella.)
Watching
I’ve watched more TV the past week than the past year, possibly.
Lupin was delightful.
Schitt’s Creek is hilarious but hard to watch alone. You want to admire the brilliant lines (and looks) with someone. Still seasons to go!
Little Fires Everywhere. You have to watch this! It’s brilliant.