ARTHA - Ode to my unsung favorites

Oh favorite things! Here are 10 unsung favorites, in no particular order...

1. R. Kelly: R. Kelly is a man who knows what women want to hear and he tells them. Explicitly. While singing. When R. Kelly is trying to win back a woman he has hurt, he sings "When a woman's fed up, no matter how ya beg, it ain't nuthin' you can do about it." When he's trying to woo a lady he sings, "And when you need a break, I'll let you up, I'll let you breathe, wash your face, get sometin' to eat, then come back to the bedroom." And when he wants to tell you what he wants to do to you, well, he just says it. Like a boss.

2. Coffee: As I pack up my apartment, I realize how much this wonderful substance plays a part in my everyday life. The only piece of equipment in my kitchen that is not in a box is my coffee maker and a solitary coffee mug. You have provided me with sustenance, happiness, an excuse to meet people, leave the office, and a good reason to go to Iceland. Thank you.

3. Drinking movie games: who doesn't love a good drinking game? Quick overview - you watch a movie that you have watched before, ideally many times, and create rules so that you drink each time these things happen. Example: In Oceans Eleven, drink every time someone says "Terry Benedict" or every time Brad Pitt eats.

4. T-Pain cameos: Even before "I'm on a Boat" the distinctive T-Pain autotune was gaining popularity. Since then, T-Pain has cameoed in countless videos, songs, and Superbowl commercials. Keep doing your thing, Teep!

5. Sirens in Reggeaton songs: There are three things that every good Reggeaton song possesses: 1. Puerto Rican slang, 2. Misogyny, and 3. a siren.

6. Creating theories: I have a theory for everything. Some recent theories I have latched onto: Core Competency theory, which involves eating only food that a restaurant is known for. The Exotic Animal theory, which is mostly about how you are attracted to people who are different than you precisely because they are different. The Men love crazy bitches theory, which is pretty self-explanatory.

7. Bank robberies: My favorite crime. So much risk (federal prison), so little reward (a couple grand). You don't see people making movies about driving on a suspended license, identity fraud or simple battery - but everybody has seen a movie with a great bank robbery.

8. Unsolicited advice: I have received some gems over the years from random people at random times: "You never lose in learning something", "Every emotion you experience is valid", "If it fits, buy two", "Don't ever buy coke at a gas station."

9. The Zipper: The best jankey carnival ride ever. Chris Mengarelli, Kelly Pearson and I used to get so excited for this ride in middle school. I miss the days when we would take our jar full of change to the bank, turn it into money for rides, and ride the Zipper until our parents made us go home. And sometimes we would get chased by carnies. But that's a different story.

10. The "Come to Jesus": The Come to Jesus is the talk. You know the one. It always starts with the phrase "Ok, here's the deal..." It's the talk where you and another person are gonna get things straight or lay it out on the table. The one where you're gonna tell that person what you really think. I love The Come to Jesus.

Mad props to Karen Bird and Marco for the core competency theory - and to Natasha Ruser for introducing me to the Come to Jesus.

KAMA - Falling in love

I remember when I was a kid, I thought that falling in love was like the movies. When someone loved you, they stood outside your window with a boombox blasting Peter Gabriel. They ran past security in airport terminals because they couldn't let you get on that plane to London without first telling you the quirky but endearing things they loved about you.

As I grew up, I learned that in real life, if someone stands outside your window and won't go away, you can usually get a restraining order. And if a guy runs past airport security to try and find you, it's probably because he has a bomb. What looks like love in movies, is more like mental illness in real life. So I dismissed that kind of love as crazy and reckless.

And maybe a little beneath me. I was an educated, practical person who knew that real love was less about losing yourself to the other person and more about daily acts of kindness. That crazy love was for those people who weren't quite as smart as I was. The love I experienced was a loftier form of love.

And so it went for me. The first time I fell in love, it was the long, slow process of coming to trust and know someone intimately and while there were moments of excitement, it was generally a peaceful experience. And so I settled into this vision of love, knowing that it was the right approach. It was comfortable and safe.

And then I got knocked on my ass. At the time, I was not paying attention. He appeared in my life in the usual way - as someone to whom you pay a moment's notice before continuing on with what you were doing. And somehow within a few days time, I was unable to breathe without thinking about him. I found myself doing crazy, uncharacteristic things, like not eating or getting my work done on time so we could hang out.

I tried to reason my way out of it, but my brain peaced out on me. I tried to talk my way out of it, but it didn't matter how many times I said, "this is crazy" or "this isn't me" or "I should really put down this boombox": I couldn't stop. So I let myself fall.

There is no right or wrong way to love. Love is both the slow buildup of affection and the crazy reckless passion: the running through the airport and the quiet car ride home from the store. It just manifests itself differently for each of us throughout our lives. You can shore up your heart, but we are all eternal victims to its pull.

MOKSHA - Resistance

So I walk into yoga today. It's been one of those days where I desperately need my favorite yoga teacher. And I look into the room and see the worst thing ever: a substitute. Damn. For a moment, I think maybe I should leave. Go to my second favorite source of stress relief: a bottle of wine and a phone call to my cousin. But, I'm already here and it would be kind of hard to bow out at this point. So I take a deep breath and walk into class.

Megan is the substitute and the first thing I notice about Megan is that she looks like me. Not that you would get the two of us confused or even see the resemblance - but in yogaland - she definitely looks like me. Most yoga teachers are tiny. Many are former dancers, or type A personalities that have type A bodies. Megan, however, has boobs, a stomach, and a booming voice and I immediately like her.

She welcomes everyone to class and asks us what areas of the body we want to work on. Hips. I, like many people, hold most of my stress in my hips and need to alleviate some of this pain immediately. And then, like someone who can see right through you, she looks right at me and asks if anyone is working on letting anything go "off of the mat": family issues, ex-boyfriends, job stuff. I slowly nod and she winks at me like we just told each other a secret.

She tells us all to lay on our backs and let go of everything that happened today, releasing it into the ground. We move into "pigeon pose" and she calls it "pige." Megan gracefully guides us through poses and encourages me in "crow pose," even though I can only seem to hold it for a moment. She laughs and reminds us that yoga is playful.

Then she comes over to me and tells me this next pose is for me and winks again. She pulls over another student and says we are going to be partners. Mande??? There are no partners in yoga class.

We are instructed to lie on our stomachs, grab our ankles and flex our feet so that our partner can sit on them while pulling our shoulders up away from the floor. Holy shit. Adrian and I are partners and she has these cool dove tattoos on the back of her shoulders. So I tell her this and she says "Flex your feet so I can sit down." "Right." I say. And when she reaches around my chest, all I can think about is that a stranger's ass is sitting on my sweaty feet while I grab my ankles and her hands are pulling my chest and torso off the floor. And I smile - Megan was right. This pose is exactly what I need. Because there is no way you can continue to be resistant in this pose. So I take a deep breath, smile and let Adrian sit on my feet.

Attachment to what is comfortable and customary makes me feel safe. The problem with attachment is it brings resistance to change. And change is the lifeblood of growth. Yesterday I was reminded that sometimes your guard must come down and you need to allow someone to help you open up your heart, even if it involves risking an uncomfortbale moment between two strangers.

DHARMA - Relationships

Human beings are messy creatures. We are this jumble of emotions, hormones, thoughts and feelings, which can make us both fun at karaoke bars and walking minefields. We set noble intentions for ourselves, then add alcohol, dancing, and a credit card and wonder why we woke up in New Jersey married to some dude with a Calvin and Hobbes tattoo. We believe that we will always make good decisions that fulfill us and don't cause harm to those we love. In short, we are crazy.

Despite this, I do find that people generally aim to do what will cause the least amount of harm to others. However, we are driven by complex motivations, and there exist parts of ourselves that desire immediate fulfillment, despite the damage it may cause. For example, right now I desire to eat the rest of my roommate's hummus. But I know she will come home and be mad. But it's "Sabra" roasted garlic hummus, so it might be worth it.

I have always felt that Karma was the cosmic justice that would restore the balance in our lives for both the good and bad things we did to each other. Not the Hindu version of Karma, but the lapsed-Catholic superstitious version, which strongly resembles "death" in the movie "Final Destination." A Karma that seeks revenge.

I have been targeted by this Karma before. In those moments when I thought that I was safe from it, that whatever I'd done happened so long ago that Karma couldn't possibly remember, it appeared like a ninja and threw a ninja star right in my face.

Then, when I was in law school, I thought I could outwit Karma by offering tiny "karmic donations" into the universe to make up for all the bad shit I was inevitably going to do later. Especially around exam time when I needed extra good karma, I would buy Streetwise magazines from homeless people and over tip the baristas at Starbucks. Essentially, I would try and buy myself good karma.

Karma, however, was not down with this plan. Karma had other ideas for me that involved my wallet getting stolen from my purse in the second floor women's bathroom at law school. Fine, Karma, you win.

I don't think Karma rules relationships between people, though. There is something else that is a far more beautiful way of restoring balance between the hurt people inflict upon each other. Grace. Unearned forgiveness. An unspoken blessing passed between two people. Acknowledging the existence of a hurt and quietly setting it aside. I think the gift of grace between two people is the single most beautiful act of love.

And so - to those in my life who are falling in love - enjoy! And remember in the moment you are first hurt by an unkind word, or an angry response, grace is the bridge that allows you to come back to each other. Through grace, you have the power to block the ninja star of Karma, that would otherwise demand retribution.

And to those in my life who are not sure if they can remain in love - grace toward yourself is a way to move beyond guilt and allow yourself to breathe again.

And to the rest of you who are somewhere in between - try and make peace with your Karma, however it is that you can. Ignoring your trespasses on the universe will only provoke it more. So on this Valentine's Day, offer Karma some flowers, take it out to dinner - do what you have to do. But treat it like a fragile girlfriend for a while and you will avoid being struck by lightening on your way home from the gym.

ARTHA - Old Times

I've been thinking a lot about "old times" recently. You know, the days when you didn't have any responsibilities and would pack up your friend's blue volvo, light a cigarette and drive for hours listening to Dave Matthews, or if you believed yourself to be especially complicated, early Radiohead.

After a recent visit from my "old times" crew, I've been thinking about those days. People always reference their college years not to demonstrate the achievement of a higher education, but as an experience from which one now compares one's life. "I can't drink like I did in college." "It's not as easy to meet people as it was in college" or "It would have been easier to beat this rape charge back in college."

I've been thinking about what is it about those times that was so special. Perhaps it was the unique combination of youth, just enough responsibility to make you feel productive, and a tiny bit of money. The stuff of long days of doing whatever it was we felt like. A favorite plan during my "old times" was to take epic road trips to uncommon destinations like Mobile, Alabama or Nashua, New Hampshire. We would drive for hours smoking cigarettes and drinking that bad flavored coffee you can only get at a gas station. Somebody was always playing guitar and someone always had a frisbee. These were important props in our lives.

And each of us had our own role to play during those days - like characters in a comedy. I find there are days I am still shedding the skin of that role 8 years later. But during those years, it fit me just fine. Cause we were all a part of something larger than each of us as individuals; an experience in growing up that was unique to us because we believed ourselves to be the only ones interested in truth, adventures, and figuring out who we were.

So now, as I approach the milestone of another decade, I am reminded of the days when I wanted nothing more than to see a blue volvo pull around the corner or just to hear one more folk song before going to bed. And for a moment, I am again the 22 year old who wrote terrible love poems and believed the best thing in life was the company of my best friends and a good story.

Ahh, good times, indeed.