yoga anonymous

Speaking of accessories, next I ventured to the east village to visit Emily Conradson (she's not one but she is a great collector of them). We ate really an amazing dinner that she cooked. I was ecstatic to eat her tofu and kale and aroma-ecstaticized holy sweetness squash. Emily is one good cook. The girl knows how to live. We went to her friend Jeremy's house down the street later on and I learned about all sorts of weird stuff, like rekka (or something like that) which is a fancy type of massage/bodywork. Emily hangs out with people who are into bodies because she is into bodies. We went to a yoga class at noon on Sunday that was a mix of Forrest Yoga and Anusara at Lila Yoga on 2nd Ave. I have been very unproductive these days. Going to a class in the middle of the day meant that I couldn't dive into any of my projects in the morning, and I didn't in the evening either. I am happy to hear that Ryan Saylor writes in his blog that:
* Inefficiency substituted for efficiency is beautiful.
* Efficiency substituted for inefficiency is beautiful.
I have a crazy work ethic. Because I have been focused on art and survival a lot, I feel like I have to be driven in one of these directions at all times. It can he hard to turn off. I wonder if it is exclusive to NY that there is a feeling of being what you do. Last night I was busy doing nothing. In fact I think I sat very still for almost 2 hours thinking. Afterwards, I read just a few sentences at the beginning of the FIRST SECTION of Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals by Immanuel Kant. I found it to be very appropriate to read:
"There is no possibility of thinking of anything at all in the world, or even out of it, which can be regarded as good without qualification, except a good will... A good will is good not because of what it effects or accomplishes, nor because of its fitness to attain some proposed end; it is good only through its willing, i.e., it is good in itself."
PHEW! In a constant search for reassurance in a desert filled only with duplicitous backstabbing internet advice, Immanuel Kant (!?) provides the warm moral hug I need to put me to sleep.