A Ticket Home
Once when I was 21, I saw a guy on the side of the freeway off-ramp with a cardboard sign that said he was stranded and hungry. My heart broke. He looked like a nice, clean-cut guy who just needed a break. I turned the car around and picked him up. I bought him lunch. He said his name was Darren. As we ate together, he told me bits about his life: that he said he lived in San Diego, worked construction and had recently traveled to Nebraska to attend his mother’s funeral. He said that he had a wife and two kids at home but had somehow become stranded in Utah and couldn’t get back home to keep working. Without work he couldn’t get home and all he needed was money for a bus ticket.
Just a week before, I had executed a brilliant plan to quit my lame desk job, take out a loan from the bank, and travel to Europe to spend 5 weeks with Celeste (we later got married, so I guess that it all worked out). I didn’t have much money, most of it was borrowed, but my heart ached that I had the means to travel to be with the one I loved and he didn’t. So, with my travel plans imminent, pressing preparations looming, and two thousand dollars of borrowed money in my pocket, I did what any naïve 21 year-old, eager to solve the problems of the universe would do: I bought Darren a bus ticket home. I even bought the dude a ticket to the movies next door to the Greyhound station so he could kill some time while he was waiting the three hours for his bus to leave. I drove away from the bus station feeling great, like I’d really helped somebody out.
I went to Europe, had an enchanting five weeks in Austria and Germany with Celeste, and came back jobless and in debt but in love and happy to be alive. I immediately began an all-out assault on the job market, desperate to join the ranks of that elite class of society known as The Employed. While driving around looking for anyone reckless enough to hire such an unfledged bohemian, I came off the same freeway off-ramp and to my great surprise, saw Darren standing there—same dude, different sign. And though I felt I might regret it, I did it anyway. I couldn’t help myself. I turned around, picked him up (again) and took him to lunch (again). Darren didn’t seem to remember me. I told him that I was the kid who bought him the ticket to San Diego about six weeks earlier and I didn’t mind telling him that I was a little pissed off that he was still stranded in Utah when I had paid his way home. I asked him why he didn’t go to San Diego. He said he’d lost his bus ticket while at the movies. I told him that I felt that he’d taken advantage of me. He just sort of shrugged and went about eating his Big Mac. We went our separate ways.
In the years that followed, I’d see Darren now and again. His hair would be longer and he’d grown a beard. Every time that I saw him, he looked older. Time on the street was certainly not being kind to him. Still, I couldn’t judge Darren too harshly. I couldn’t help but worry about this guy, this homeless guy I didn’t really know. Darren didn’t seem all the way right in his mind, you know? How could someone who probably needed institutional help be out there at the mercy of the streets? And in some way, in my mind he put a real face to the entire homelessness blight, something which feels bigger than me to help. And I guess that was the deeper realization for this naïve kid who thought he could somehow fix the world’s problems with a little money: that homelessness is bigger than buying someone a Big Mac and or even springing for a Greyhound ticket for somebody. And looking back, I guess I have also learned that it’s not bad to try. Even if the results are different than what you’d hoped for. I guess I learned that the answer isn’t to stop trying, but to try in better ways. How could I not try when Darren in out there somewhere?
And yes, years later, even though I think it’s wisest to donate time or money to the shelter, I still can’t resist giving a few coins to someone down on their luck. And though I wouldn’t do it again, I don’t regret buying Darren a Greyhound ticket to San Diego. And yes, I hope Darren gets what he deserves: happiness, a warm meal, and the chance to be with the people he loves. I’m not the less for trying. Nor am I a saint. Who knows, someday if I’m down and out, maybe some guy named Darren will buy be a Big Mac and a ticket back home.
I believe the entrance into compassion for the outside world is to first develop a ready and familiar compassion for Self. Yoga is the best way I know to honor and nurture all aspects of Self. It may seem oblique, but in this light, coming to yoga practice or practicing yoga on your own is a powerful preliminary to helping solve the world’s problems. It doesn’t preclude us from lifting a finger in other ways, it just helps us lift said finger from the place of a clear mind, strong body, and a pure heart.
Simon Park is visiting from Philadelphia this week and so my classes at Prana will be canceled. But come and have an amazing experience with Simon. He is one of the most amazing presenters I’ve had the pleasure of working with.
Friday, January 28, 2011
This Is Where I Stand
You know that pose firefly or titibasana? Can’t do it. Splits or Hanumanasana? Nope. Not me. And what’s even more real for me? It’s not embracing the challenge of whether or not I can do the split, ‘cuz who really cares, right? The hardest thing I’m faced with is having someone I dearly love battle pain and fatigue every day because of an autoimmune disease she’s got. What’s real is the fact that I’ve put my career on the line for a business that is still concrete and I-beams, while I sit back and hope that people still read this stuff that I send out each week. At this place in my life, I come to the mat and practice working through my own insecurities on a daily basis. Truthfully, I flirt between confidence and insecurity. I hope. I hope, I hope, I hope that one day my love will find her strength again and end this long night of illness (8 years). No pity. I don’t need understanding. This is simply the most honest picture of where I am. This is where I stand.
I don’t care if you can touch your toes, or have perfected a backbend or can hold a handstand. I don’t care if you’ve practice every day for a decade or haven’t looked at your yoga mat in a year. I don’t care. I’m more interested in whether or not you are willing to come to your yoga mat today and meet yourself exactly where you are physically, emotionally, and mentally, to practice engaging life from that radical frontier. It’s not about who has won or achieved some shallow level of success. For me, it’s more about being willing to stand where you are, where life has put you, and with dignity and integrity look the world straight in the eyes saying, “This is where I stand.” In this embrace with the world, there is no wallowing, only an honesty of being. For me there is nothing more powerful.
The word Asana means “your seat” or “where you stand.” In yoga practice we place ourselves in postures, in asana, to practice standing assertively like the warrior, virabhadrasana, and firmly like the mountain, tadasana, or in submission like the child, balasana. More importantly, we place ourselves in these asanas to explore and expose the place we stand in life. Maybe you stand in a place of deep loss, or insecurity. Maybe you stand in a place of strength and security. I’ve invented a pose called “weeping hovel” asana that speaks to where I get sometimes. I should likewise invent “Toyota Jump” asana for when things are awesome. It really doesn’t matter as long as you are willing to engage. And once you do, once you speak to that place through your breath and your body, you open up to the real conversation of the practice which is really the practice of every-day living.
Join me this week. Come to practice and take your seat. Stand on your mat and say, “This is where I stand.”
I don’t care if you can touch your toes, or have perfected a backbend or can hold a handstand. I don’t care if you’ve practice every day for a decade or haven’t looked at your yoga mat in a year. I don’t care. I’m more interested in whether or not you are willing to come to your yoga mat today and meet yourself exactly where you are physically, emotionally, and mentally, to practice engaging life from that radical frontier. It’s not about who has won or achieved some shallow level of success. For me, it’s more about being willing to stand where you are, where life has put you, and with dignity and integrity look the world straight in the eyes saying, “This is where I stand.” In this embrace with the world, there is no wallowing, only an honesty of being. For me there is nothing more powerful.
The word Asana means “your seat” or “where you stand.” In yoga practice we place ourselves in postures, in asana, to practice standing assertively like the warrior, virabhadrasana, and firmly like the mountain, tadasana, or in submission like the child, balasana. More importantly, we place ourselves in these asanas to explore and expose the place we stand in life. Maybe you stand in a place of deep loss, or insecurity. Maybe you stand in a place of strength and security. I’ve invented a pose called “weeping hovel” asana that speaks to where I get sometimes. I should likewise invent “Toyota Jump” asana for when things are awesome. It really doesn’t matter as long as you are willing to engage. And once you do, once you speak to that place through your breath and your body, you open up to the real conversation of the practice which is really the practice of every-day living.
Join me this week. Come to practice and take your seat. Stand on your mat and say, “This is where I stand.”
This Is The Place for Chocolate
I love chocolate. Every Friday I have a ritual: I blow my soul through my sax at a jazz lesson, then boo-be-doobin’ to myself, I treat self to something decadent at the Hatch Family Chocolates, just down the street. I remember the first time I went in there, I stepped inside and the rich chocolate smell made me weak in the knees. I saw sitting in their display case a row of shiny foil cups with something chocolaty and substantial staring back at me. It was like a chocolate cocker spaniel at the shelter asking me to take it home. The label said Pot de Crème. I speak French, and know how to pronounce Pot de Crème but didn’t want to be that guy—Mr. Over Pronouncer, a non-native language speaker who has to prove his authority on subjects, like, “Neek-aardrdrdrdrd-AGWUA!”. So I asked the friendly kid behind the counter in an unconvincing accent, “Pot da Cream, please.” To which he said, “You mean, Poe duh Cahrème?” with easy perfect pronunciation. “Um. Yes. That’s what I mean,” I said sheepishly. I sat down with my palm-sized pot and spooned out a bite. The texture was thicker than pudding and more substantial than mousse. With the first hit of that deep, rich flavor, I could tell that for chocolate, this is the place.
If you’ve never been to Hatch, you’ve never known kid heaven. I hope that the hordes of kids I see there lined up out the door aren’t the spiritual remains of kids picked off at one of the Avenues’ confusing intersections, whisked off to a sweet afterlife. Speaking of heaven, Jesus made an appearance at Hatch, not in their store but in their spumoni. Yep, it was in the paper with a picture and everything. I’m just sayin’.
With the holiday’s imminent, I want to talk a about what’s happening with local chocolate. Perhaps we might choose to festoon our holiday table with some local chocolate. Hatch is only one example of some really cool local chocolate happenings. Here’s the deal: local chocolate means local ingredients, local flavors, local people. It means an experience unique to Utah. Maybe you’ve got someone on your Christmas list with a sweet tooth, or you wanna impress at your company party, or you have some guests visiting from out of town and want to give them a real taste of Utah. Tantelize them with some local chocolate.
So, I did some learning and tasting research. Poor me, right? News Flash!: cocoa isn’t native to Utah. And Brigham Young didn’t bring any over in handcarts either. Otherwise he’d have said, “this is the place” before he even left and called it good. Cocoa can really only grow in what’s called the “Cocoa Belt” between 10°-20° off the equator. Most of the chocolate we eat is grown in Africa but a lot of it also comes from South America and other places. It grows in pods on trees and must be harvested by hand. Then there’s a process of fermentation, drying, roasting, shelling, and grinding which melts away the cocoa butter which becomes cocoa liquor which when solidified would be considered pure unsweetened chocolate and yes, in Utah you can buy cocoa on Sunday—different liquor. Some of the cocoa butter will be reused in the production of the chocolate. The cocoa liquor is then pressed producing a mass which is ground finely to produce cocoa powder. Chocolatiers can add sugar and milk and things to shape the flavor the way they want. It’s kneaded (a process known as conching) heated and cooled strategically to align the cocoa butter crystal formations. And voila! You’ve got chocolate. With so many variables from where the beans are grown and how they are roasted to what’s added to them, chocolate making as much an art as a science.
Chocolate, even more than wine and cheese, exhibits what’s called in culinary circles Terroir which is unique flavor denoted by the ground and region in which it’s grown. You can taste the Africa or South America in the chocolate. With this base flavor, local chocolatiers can adopt it and give it a home, a Utah identity. Even with a Utah identity it still can’t vote, though. I looked at 5 local chocolatiers to get a small taste of what locals are doing to give chocolate a uniquely Utah flavor.
First, Chocolot. Ogden, Utah. Chocolot is an artisan chocolatier with taste, style, and generations of experience behind them who makes bars, truffles and the whole bit. The presentation with this company is sexy but don’t let the pretty prevent you from cracking into this stuff, cuz’ the flavor is even more alluring. Even their website is tasty. These chocolates are classy, provocative, and fun, great for a first date when you wanna impress. There’s a lot of variety to please whomever you’re meeting. If they don’t like the dark truffle, maybe they’ll like the peanut butter or the molten caramel. Maybe your date is really sweet; you could give them Chocolot’s Beehive Honey. Now that’s a great Utah chocolate! I ate a sizable portion of a bar from Chocolot that to me epitomizes Christmas, a total visual delight. On top of this thing you’ve got pumpkin seeds, almonds, hazelnuts, orange peel, raisins, cocoa nibs—a great blend of fruity and savory. Any bar or box from Chocolot is a gift that doesn’t need any wrapping.
Second, Red Desert Candy Company. Torrey, Utah. These desert dwellers make decadent desserts, stuff that speaks to place, this place. They even boast that some of their candy is vegetarian and vegan-friendly. That’s Utah. Republicans and tree hugger’s, that what’s Utah is all about. For the peanut butter cup lover, Red Desert makes one that could feed a small family. I wonder how well they keep for food storage? Anything from Red Desert is a perfect post-meal delight after dinner on the porch. Take some bars with you in your backpack as you trek around Capitol Reef National Park, especially because their store is located just minutes before the entrance of the park. Red Desert is also a great gift for someone who loves all things Utah. With their Juniper Bar (awesome!), a caramel turtle named after Castle Rock, a gigantic geological formation near Torrey, and salt truffles which use Utah’s very own Redmond Salt, these people know how to put a taste to a place. Now, I haven’t spoken to Red Desert about this but I think a provocative name for a chocolate from this great state is . . .(wait for it). . . Polagamint. I’m just going to let that sit on your tongue for a while. . . ok, what do you think? Or how about this, Osmond bars, Donnie Dark or Marie Milk. We know there is dark, milk, and white chocolate. What about RED chocolate, not only for the Utes, not only red rock indicative of southern Utah, but would also represent our states ubiquitous political color. Hmm? Yeah, it left a bad taste in my mouth, too. Moving on . . .
Third, Hatch Family Chocolates. Salt Lake City, Utah. This is your quintessential local chocolatier, located in the avenues. Everybody deserves to treat themselves. Like I mentioned before, it’s nice to have a weekly ritual revolved around chocolate. I also love their Peanut Butter Truffle, Dark, with salt crystals on the top. Mm! I love their dark Praline Caramel. Wanna court your grandkids? This is the place. Heck, court yourself. Go on a walk with the fam around the Aves and end up at the Hatch’s. They also have chocolate covered Oreos, gummy bears, and dates. Hatch has ice cream, they make Sundays, coffee and espresso, and my favorite, hot chocolate, milk or dark. Warning: the dark hot cocoa is decadent some of the best I’ve had, but don’t give it to a kid under the age of 27 unless you don’t mind caffeine induced psychosis, something that would make a tsunami look mild. That or indulge them with the cocoa then give them a push mower and set them free at Rice-Eccles field.
Fourth Cocolate Conspiracy, Salt Lake City, Utah. The outstanding facet about this chocolatier is that it’s raw, down to earth, local, earth friendly and vegan (no animal products), ‘cuz that all the rage, right? It’s grass-roots, like made from some dudes apartment, grass roots. I’m not sure of that but that’s the way it seems. The chocolate is more earthy and simple than something you’d get from other chocolatiers. Chocolate Conspiracy (everything’s a conspiracy to activists) boast that their chocolate is made using honey from happy bees, no pesticides, herbicides, fungicides, harmful chemicals, refined sugar, soy or dairy. Just kick-ass cocoa. My chef friend, Amanda Gooch, says that this would be great to be used for a vegan hot chocolate, maybe throw some fair-trade cinnamon and vanilla in there and offer it as a warmer for the college activists protesting outside the fur stores around the holidays.
Fifth Amano Orem, Utah. Amano is really in a class of its own. For one, Art Pollard, creator and head of Amano, says they make their own chocolate by scratch (Amano means ‘by hand’) from single-source, more-than-fair-trade beans. Other chocolatiers do creative things with chocolate that’s already been made, like E. Guittard, chocolate that’s already been through the husk-to-truck process. Let them do the hard work, right? Not Amano. They do it all themselves and control every aspect of their chocolate. Oh, did I mention that Utah isn’t the only one who appreciates Amano. In reality, we don’t know what we’ve got. I started to read Amano’s dizzying list of National and International first-place awards and started to fall asleep after 50 or so. I get it! You’re the best! Even the presentation of their truffles is so stunning that you could frame them and place them on a wall. Seriously! Great, they’re pretty. So how does Amano taste? Sophisticated. Deep. Rich. Complex. Amazing. AND, what’s best is that Amano appeals to both the connoisseur as well as people like me, an appreciator/glutton. The complexity of this chocolate isn’t lost on an amateur like me but might be lost on younger palates. I think Amano would be an excellent gift for those who you really want to impress or for someone who knows or appreciates chocolate. What’s great is that with chocolate this rich, you don’t need to eat a lot. Try serving Amano instead of some huge, decadent dessert. Ask everyone around the table to describe what they taste. Masquerade as tasting experts. So with international award winning chocolate this good, why Utah? Art Pollard says that Utah’s high altitude and dry weather aids in the chocolate’s unique flavor and development process. It’s one of the highest altitude chocolate makers in the world. Thanks Art for once again proving that for chocolate, this is the place.
If you’ve never been to Hatch, you’ve never known kid heaven. I hope that the hordes of kids I see there lined up out the door aren’t the spiritual remains of kids picked off at one of the Avenues’ confusing intersections, whisked off to a sweet afterlife. Speaking of heaven, Jesus made an appearance at Hatch, not in their store but in their spumoni. Yep, it was in the paper with a picture and everything. I’m just sayin’.
With the holiday’s imminent, I want to talk a about what’s happening with local chocolate. Perhaps we might choose to festoon our holiday table with some local chocolate. Hatch is only one example of some really cool local chocolate happenings. Here’s the deal: local chocolate means local ingredients, local flavors, local people. It means an experience unique to Utah. Maybe you’ve got someone on your Christmas list with a sweet tooth, or you wanna impress at your company party, or you have some guests visiting from out of town and want to give them a real taste of Utah. Tantelize them with some local chocolate.
So, I did some learning and tasting research. Poor me, right? News Flash!: cocoa isn’t native to Utah. And Brigham Young didn’t bring any over in handcarts either. Otherwise he’d have said, “this is the place” before he even left and called it good. Cocoa can really only grow in what’s called the “Cocoa Belt” between 10°-20° off the equator. Most of the chocolate we eat is grown in Africa but a lot of it also comes from South America and other places. It grows in pods on trees and must be harvested by hand. Then there’s a process of fermentation, drying, roasting, shelling, and grinding which melts away the cocoa butter which becomes cocoa liquor which when solidified would be considered pure unsweetened chocolate and yes, in Utah you can buy cocoa on Sunday—different liquor. Some of the cocoa butter will be reused in the production of the chocolate. The cocoa liquor is then pressed producing a mass which is ground finely to produce cocoa powder. Chocolatiers can add sugar and milk and things to shape the flavor the way they want. It’s kneaded (a process known as conching) heated and cooled strategically to align the cocoa butter crystal formations. And voila! You’ve got chocolate. With so many variables from where the beans are grown and how they are roasted to what’s added to them, chocolate making as much an art as a science.
Chocolate, even more than wine and cheese, exhibits what’s called in culinary circles Terroir which is unique flavor denoted by the ground and region in which it’s grown. You can taste the Africa or South America in the chocolate. With this base flavor, local chocolatiers can adopt it and give it a home, a Utah identity. Even with a Utah identity it still can’t vote, though. I looked at 5 local chocolatiers to get a small taste of what locals are doing to give chocolate a uniquely Utah flavor.
First, Chocolot. Ogden, Utah. Chocolot is an artisan chocolatier with taste, style, and generations of experience behind them who makes bars, truffles and the whole bit. The presentation with this company is sexy but don’t let the pretty prevent you from cracking into this stuff, cuz’ the flavor is even more alluring. Even their website is tasty. These chocolates are classy, provocative, and fun, great for a first date when you wanna impress. There’s a lot of variety to please whomever you’re meeting. If they don’t like the dark truffle, maybe they’ll like the peanut butter or the molten caramel. Maybe your date is really sweet; you could give them Chocolot’s Beehive Honey. Now that’s a great Utah chocolate! I ate a sizable portion of a bar from Chocolot that to me epitomizes Christmas, a total visual delight. On top of this thing you’ve got pumpkin seeds, almonds, hazelnuts, orange peel, raisins, cocoa nibs—a great blend of fruity and savory. Any bar or box from Chocolot is a gift that doesn’t need any wrapping.
Second, Red Desert Candy Company. Torrey, Utah. These desert dwellers make decadent desserts, stuff that speaks to place, this place. They even boast that some of their candy is vegetarian and vegan-friendly. That’s Utah. Republicans and tree hugger’s, that what’s Utah is all about. For the peanut butter cup lover, Red Desert makes one that could feed a small family. I wonder how well they keep for food storage? Anything from Red Desert is a perfect post-meal delight after dinner on the porch. Take some bars with you in your backpack as you trek around Capitol Reef National Park, especially because their store is located just minutes before the entrance of the park. Red Desert is also a great gift for someone who loves all things Utah. With their Juniper Bar (awesome!), a caramel turtle named after Castle Rock, a gigantic geological formation near Torrey, and salt truffles which use Utah’s very own Redmond Salt, these people know how to put a taste to a place. Now, I haven’t spoken to Red Desert about this but I think a provocative name for a chocolate from this great state is . . .(wait for it). . . Polagamint. I’m just going to let that sit on your tongue for a while. . . ok, what do you think? Or how about this, Osmond bars, Donnie Dark or Marie Milk. We know there is dark, milk, and white chocolate. What about RED chocolate, not only for the Utes, not only red rock indicative of southern Utah, but would also represent our states ubiquitous political color. Hmm? Yeah, it left a bad taste in my mouth, too. Moving on . . .
Third, Hatch Family Chocolates. Salt Lake City, Utah. This is your quintessential local chocolatier, located in the avenues. Everybody deserves to treat themselves. Like I mentioned before, it’s nice to have a weekly ritual revolved around chocolate. I also love their Peanut Butter Truffle, Dark, with salt crystals on the top. Mm! I love their dark Praline Caramel. Wanna court your grandkids? This is the place. Heck, court yourself. Go on a walk with the fam around the Aves and end up at the Hatch’s. They also have chocolate covered Oreos, gummy bears, and dates. Hatch has ice cream, they make Sundays, coffee and espresso, and my favorite, hot chocolate, milk or dark. Warning: the dark hot cocoa is decadent some of the best I’ve had, but don’t give it to a kid under the age of 27 unless you don’t mind caffeine induced psychosis, something that would make a tsunami look mild. That or indulge them with the cocoa then give them a push mower and set them free at Rice-Eccles field.
Fourth Cocolate Conspiracy, Salt Lake City, Utah. The outstanding facet about this chocolatier is that it’s raw, down to earth, local, earth friendly and vegan (no animal products), ‘cuz that all the rage, right? It’s grass-roots, like made from some dudes apartment, grass roots. I’m not sure of that but that’s the way it seems. The chocolate is more earthy and simple than something you’d get from other chocolatiers. Chocolate Conspiracy (everything’s a conspiracy to activists) boast that their chocolate is made using honey from happy bees, no pesticides, herbicides, fungicides, harmful chemicals, refined sugar, soy or dairy. Just kick-ass cocoa. My chef friend, Amanda Gooch, says that this would be great to be used for a vegan hot chocolate, maybe throw some fair-trade cinnamon and vanilla in there and offer it as a warmer for the college activists protesting outside the fur stores around the holidays.
Fifth Amano Orem, Utah. Amano is really in a class of its own. For one, Art Pollard, creator and head of Amano, says they make their own chocolate by scratch (Amano means ‘by hand’) from single-source, more-than-fair-trade beans. Other chocolatiers do creative things with chocolate that’s already been made, like E. Guittard, chocolate that’s already been through the husk-to-truck process. Let them do the hard work, right? Not Amano. They do it all themselves and control every aspect of their chocolate. Oh, did I mention that Utah isn’t the only one who appreciates Amano. In reality, we don’t know what we’ve got. I started to read Amano’s dizzying list of National and International first-place awards and started to fall asleep after 50 or so. I get it! You’re the best! Even the presentation of their truffles is so stunning that you could frame them and place them on a wall. Seriously! Great, they’re pretty. So how does Amano taste? Sophisticated. Deep. Rich. Complex. Amazing. AND, what’s best is that Amano appeals to both the connoisseur as well as people like me, an appreciator/glutton. The complexity of this chocolate isn’t lost on an amateur like me but might be lost on younger palates. I think Amano would be an excellent gift for those who you really want to impress or for someone who knows or appreciates chocolate. What’s great is that with chocolate this rich, you don’t need to eat a lot. Try serving Amano instead of some huge, decadent dessert. Ask everyone around the table to describe what they taste. Masquerade as tasting experts. So with international award winning chocolate this good, why Utah? Art Pollard says that Utah’s high altitude and dry weather aids in the chocolate’s unique flavor and development process. It’s one of the highest altitude chocolate makers in the world. Thanks Art for once again proving that for chocolate, this is the place.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)