>Chakra Daze

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There was a creative mood for us. In the 60’s they went to Woodstock and listened to Bob Dylan, danced in the nude. Henry Miller played piano and jammed out with his friends. We do the same things, but differently.
    I remember one afternoon, when the artistic vibrations of a weekend grounded in open festival art were resonant. Sarah, Anthony’s girlfriend came over while Anthony and Gio and Chris were selling art at the subway stop. We gardened and built up an appetite playing catch with her softball and her soft leather mitt. When we went to the store and bought food, we felt so exuberant – there was such abundance with a ripe canteloupe, prosciutto, red tomatoes, black bean hummus, a rosemary baguette, lemonade, gouda, and corn chips. We prepared a gorgeous spread and when everyone arrived, we fed leisurely, like a court of aristocrats, or European peasants. This feeling was the kind that inspired happiness and contentment.
    Full, I put on a pot of coffee and we rolled cigarettes, thick and conic, with a little bit of tobacco that dangled out the end to make it easy to light and looked like crazy hair. We stood on the deck, feeling the breeze, and talked about Yoga. Gio told us about how when he was younger, he was diagnosed with ADD. They put him on Ritalin, you know how kids sleep when they’re on Ritalin? They jerk their heads and twitch. His mother didn’t feel comfortable with that at all, with her little boy already on drugs. Drugs create dependence, especially when they’re prescribed. When you switch from one to the other, it’s easy to want to commit suicide. Someone told her about yoga. When she put him in a class, and he found his center, she eventually was able to quiet him simply by saying “Gio, ohm.” And he balanced. This was when Gio was just thinking about opening up a yoga studio on the roof of his loft, asking for suggested donations only – 7 dollars, which was perfect because no one has exactly 7 dollars, so they’ll be tempted to either tip up or down based on whichever bill they have, and can feel good about it either way.
    He led us in the yard, which had just accepted a light rain, and was moist. The clouds were unfolding, curling and spinning in wisps, the leaves of the trees were buzzing. We did the motions, pulling the flesh away from our sitting bones, downward dog, hinyasa, warrior one, he demonstrated crow, where you put your knees on your elbows. Afterwards, we felt balanced, and everyone left, peeling off like layers, going where they needed to.

Published by Daniel Ryan Adler

Daniel was born in Brooklyn, NY, and has lived in Portland, Oregon. He studied literature and philosophy at NYU and creative writing at Edinburgh University. He is finishing an MFA in Fiction at University of South Carolina.

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