Transcendental gongs, Irishists, and marriage proposals

It’s hot in this apartment. The blinds are drawn in an effort to keep the heat out but my sweat is undefeated and intrepidly travels down my body, plunging to deeper depths until its path is diverted by a fold in my skin where it settles into a little pool and bleeds through the fabric of my sundress.  My feet are vibrating.  In fact, my apartment is vibrating in tune with a high-pitched construction saw.  The construction on the unit below me is underway and it rattles my place, my head, and my patience in the process.

I sit down to write.  I want to document the eventful week that, when looked at as a whole was perhaps not so special, but when observed for the little moments, begins to take shape as colorfully eclectic and a random convergence of happenings.  It started with an innocent visit to a Kundalini yoga class last Sunday.  I had never taken a formal class before, but knew Kundalini was a yoga form that focused on the breath and using it to uncoil the energy we harbor at the base of our spine, in our sacrum.  This class moved us through fire breathing, dancing, chanting and then to a moment of other-worldliness.  In savasana, eyes closed, I saw (through my eyelids or maybe just in my subconscious) a dark, cloud-like form encroaching over the space above me.  It was like a pool of dark oil, morphing into circular, knobby extensions as it crept father into the naked space in front of it. The light in the room must have been changing or perhaps I was inducing a dream-like state with this dark cloud of substance slowly advancing over me, from my head down.  As I fell into this vision, I awoke within my state of semi-consciousness to realize the cloud was actually sound.  I had been seeing sound.  The multi-layered deep tones were transcending their own audio boundaries and translating themselves into a visual sensory experience, completing confusing my ability to decipher the type of sense I was experiencing.  It was like stepping into a page of a Carlos Castaneda book, minus the peyote and Mexican desert terrain. Altered perception.

My natural trip reverberated in my body for a few days, from an acute shifting sensation in my sacrum a day later to a very mild case of insomnia for four days.  Anyone who has known me for any brief length of time knows that that word and myself have never ever been written into the same sentence.  Point being: this kundalini energy was so powerful it awoke even the deepest sleeper.  We’ll see what tomorrow’s class brings.  I await in respectful anticipation.

From kundalini I transitioned to the work week which granted me two opportunities to meet/visit outside people and organizations as part of our Foundation’s ‘outreach’ efforts. The first meeting was with a James Joyce scholar who will be planning the International Joyce Festival, to be held in Los Angeles next summer.  In proper Irish fashion, this meeting was held over a beer at 4 pm in the afternoon.  (Portrait of the Cultural Program Coordinator as a Young Woman.) My enthusiasm peeked when the scholar spoke of Wildians and Irishists.  (Oscar Wilde and Irish author scholars, respectively.)  I’d fancy being called a Wildian. You?

From there we journeyed into Griffith Park to visit the Autry which houses an impressive collection of Western history, artifacts, and art.  I had never viewed the collection and was wowed by the exceptional curiosities on view.  If the “Homelands: Seeing Women in History Makes History Look Different ” exhibit didn’t end tomorrow, I would send you over to see it.    The Autry also recently acquired the Southwest Museum in Highland Park- the first museum in Los Angeles (1907) which boasts the largest collection of Native American basketry.  They are going to retrofit the Southwest Museum and in the meantime, are working on a new accessible storage exhibition area, where some of the 14,000 baskets will be accessible to the public in a simple, non-curated planned storage space.  (Think: Museum of Anthropology, Vancouver).

Rounding out the week I found myself on the table of an acupuncturist, my first session in a series which, fueled by my resolve, will cure me of this sudden bout of allergy-induced asthma that has been afflicting me for the past year or so.  Slightly nervous during this first session, I was calmed when I realized the prick of the needle was negligible.  After resting for a few minutes debating whether I was brave enough to take a peak at the numerous needles sticking out of my body, I raised my head to see four thin metal needles angled into my stomach, stretching outward at 45 degree angles.  It was like being at a piercing parlor, my goth fantasy exercised under the auspices of Chinese medicine.  I smiled at this strange picture, liking what I saw.  More on the eventual success of my treatment to come.

To conclude this overly long blog entry on the unrelated happenings of my week, I can report that I was just proposed to in the Ralphs parking lot.  Exiting the store and making my way to the back lot stairs to walk home to my apartment, a man on a touring bike who had seen me in the store pedaled from a distance towards me, raising his eyebrows in a neutral kind of greeting way, and then circled behind me.  I then heard, “Excuse me, Miss,” and glanced back to see him off the bike, kneeling down, his shiny black bike pants touching the hot asphalt.  “Will you marry me?” he asked.

“Not today,” I replied.  And up the hill I went.

You never know what your week will bring.  Eyes wide, ears open- be ready for anything.  This city’s wonders are innumerable.

Every corner is a place for discovery.


~ by maureenmoore on August 21, 2010.

3 Responses to “Transcendental gongs, Irishists, and marriage proposals”

  1. What an interesting week! I especially like how calmly you turned the biker down!!

  2. This blog documents your adventures from every corner of the world….love it!

  3. Such an appropriate and truthful conclusion! Thanks for documenting and sharing!

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