The Unatural Nature of Dusting

I've been dusting.

Every week. The whole house. It's nice. Kind of meditative and contemplative. Plus I love watching the dust rags get progressively blacker... until low and behold it's all used up.

A very distinct feeling of accomplishment.

However, today I was dusting (actually I should still be dusting but I'm now writing about dusting) and I realized something. I realized dusting is unnatural.

You see what is dust? No, I don't mean what it is comprised of... I mean what is it's purpose? Why is it here? On this earth?

I think it's pretty obvious. Dust was created by God/Allah/Siva/The Big Bang/Thomas Edison/George Washington whatever you call it as a clock.

Dust settles on things that you haven't used in a while. It's a constant reminder of the inherently entropic nature of the universe. It shows you, very clearly, what you really don't need. There is dust on the treadmill? Well instead of dusting it maybe you should use it... or sell it. Dust on the bookshelves? Read more, or start fires with them.

See?

So, dusting is pretty unnatural. It's kind of like trying to trick the Universe. It's like saying "Oh hey universe, don't mind me, I'm using this treadmill... every day... no time for dust to settle not a speck." When in reality you are just dusting it every day.

If we were living in alignment with the Universe we wouldn't need to dust. We would only have a few things, and they would never grow dusty because we would be constantly using them. Cave men didn't dust their spears. Farmers don't dust their plows. They just use them.

My proposal is that we should allow things to grow dusty. Then after a few months or years we would realize, "Wow, everything in my house is covered in an inch of dust except the things I absolutely need."

Then we would be living in alignment with the Universe.

For now though, I'm going to dust. I"m going to continue to "fake" the universe out.

"Oh, hey universe! Look at me... I totally use these novelty potato scented, Jesus shaped candles..."

Grand Canyon

I was at the Grand Canyon recently. I'd never been there before and let me say it was spectacular. At it's deepest it's 5,000 feet deep (1524 m) and 10 miles wide (16 km). Oh my god... yeah... it's huge.

It's so big that the eye can't really take it all in. It's like you are looking at a painting or a backdrop. Not something real... but it's very real.

Anyways, here are some photos from that, it was a great trip (I went with my Dad).











It was beautiful weather, however the snow made it impossible for us to hike into the canyon as the trails were too steep and we didn't have the appropriate gear.

Jailhouse Yogis

I’m buzzed in. The door in front of me has no handle. No window. It is solid metal. Next to it there is a speaker pad, with a button. You push the button and somewhere, in the belly of this government building, someone decides whether or not you are allowed to enter.

I’m entering the Kootenai County Juvenile Detention Center.

I’m not a juvenile, nor am I in trouble with the law. My purpose at the facility is to assist a Yoga class. As I enter the building I begin to wonder what I’m thinking. What am I doing here? It’s the day after Christmas. In all honesty I should be lying at home playing with all the cool new things I got.

But somehow I’m entering this building. It’s 8 am.

I should back up. Start from the beginning.

Jennifer Harbour has been a student of my mother’s for several years. She is a lively, energetic person, who jumps headlong into whatever life throws at her. She doesn’t back down.

To go along with this tenacious personality, Jenn is also incredibly kind.

Two years ago Harbour began to teach at Juvy. Although initially there was opposition to the whole Yoga thing, she persisted, finally convincing the administration that it was a good idea. Since then, she has been teaching two classes per-week, every week. All for free.

One day after class at my mother’s studio, Jenn asked me if I would like to come to the jail sometime and help her teach a class. I said yes, without really considering what this meant. She then began to tell me, quite cheerfully, how tough some of the kids are. And how naturally good many of them are at Yoga.

Jenn and I enter Juvy. We leave all our valuables out front (where the inmates can’t get them), in little boxes. As we walk back into the building, going through various levels of security, Jenn begins telling me about how last week two kids got into a fight.

At first, after I realized I had committed to going to Juvy to teach Yoga, I hoped it would just disappear. That Jenn would forget, or change her mind.

She persisted. I finally realized I was irrevocably committed on Dec. 22 when Jenn called me, her voice full of excitement, to tell me I had gotten clearance to go to Juvy.

We arrive in a large multi-purpose room. It is dirty, but large. It smells vaguely of cafeteria food. The floor is grimy with traces of food scattered about.

Because it was the day after Christmas less kids were expected. Her classes have been as large as 50 kids. However, today there were only 28.

Buck shows up. He is a student of the yoga style known as Ashtanga (Jenn and I both practice Anusara). One of the differences between Ashtanga classes and Anusara classes is that the pace is quicker and more flowing. Some consider it to be physically harder than Anusara. I don’t know if I agree with this, however it is a different experience.

Buck is young (I would guess 30) and an amazing yogi.

He has been to Juvy once before. He doesn’t appear nervous. He seems centered and ready.

I would consider myself fairly competent Yogi. I’ve been around it my whole life, however it has only been in the last year or so that I’ve really engaged it. I’ve been going to class twice a week.

But I don’t consider myself to be amazing. I can do a lot of the basic poses, fairly well and I can do some of the tricky poses, somewhat passably.

Basically I didn’t know what I was going to be able to show these kids. Yes, I’m a male that does Yoga, but if I can’t do a press handstand, what is the point?

I’m nervous.

The kids file in. They are obviously happy to see Jenn and Buck. They greet me, friendly but reserved.

I’m nervous.

We all sit down, this big old smelly cafeteria, full of the outcasts of society.

I’m nervous.

Then class starts. The nervousness evaporates.

I’m just doing Yoga, something I love. Doing it alongside other young men. Young men from much different back grounds, different families, and different futures. But at this moment we are all on the same page.

I’m next to a big kid. Overweight. He doesn’t seem to be really present. He doesn’t do a lot of the poses. But then, as the class progresses, and as I continued to talk to him things begin to happen. He begins to do poses. He begins to interact.

It’s a physical, fiery practice. By the end we are all exhausted.

The kids begin to file out. They hug Jenn as they leave and thank Buck and me. These tough, criminal kids hug Jenn. They thank us.

I realize that these kids are on the outside of society. Most of them, from the moment they were born, had no strong protective matrix. They are out in the world on their own. And now, they are in Juvy. Many of them are waiting to turn 18 so they can move over to the big prison, the one for adults.

No one was is there for them.

One young man was released from Juvy the day before Christmas. His time was up. But his mom wouldn’t pick him up. She refused. This guy is 17, instead of trying to find him a foster home, the judge decided to keep him in Juvy for another month, until he turns 18.

His own mother wouldn’t pick him up. He’s stuck in Juvy.

These kids have nothing and have no one, except Yoga and Jenn. Jenn cares. Jenn loves these boys and girls.

I don’t think Yoga will save their lives (whatever that means). I don’t think it will necessarily keep them from doing violent and illegal things. Maybe it won’t have any lasting impact.

But, for one three-hour chunk of the day, these kids are loved and they know it. Buck and I are great, showing these kids the possibilities, but the true heroine is Jenn.

Jenn is the one who goes to the jail twice a week. The one who puts up with threats and dirty looks. The one who teaches Yoga on a cafeteria floor.