End of An Era

As of this the end of this week, the Ashtanga Yoga School of Seattle, to which I’ve been going for over 10 years, will close its doors, no longer offering classes and workshops to students of the yoga style pioneered by guru Sri K. Pattabhi Jois.

Yikes.

And then, George Carlin dies, too.

Times are changing, that’s for sure, and I’m not so sure I like it, no siree, not at all.

And yet, what is a person to do—other than drag your feet, cling on to the past for dear life, and kick and scream, railing against the forces of change that shake up our otherwise comfortable and predictable lives when nobody asked us about it or approved any of this beforehand?

Life goes on, I guess, or at least the Simpsons does; everything else it seems, eventually gets old as passes away—even though, as we’re all aware, the current Presidential administration seems to have been around for-fucking-ever.

An Associated Press article today suggested “Everything is Seemingly Spinning Out of Control;” I going to have to agree, but not just because of the floods, wars, economic instability, and failure of the fucking Giants to hold Tim Lincecom’s five-run lead in the sixth inning yesterday.

It’s also that these time-honored institutions I’ve come to depend upon are no longer dependable. Why they’ve even stopped carrying Old Spice after-shave lotion at the local Walgreen’s.

I’m not entirely sure what my response to all this should be; since there’s nothing to be done about it, I suppose I ought to do nothing. On the other hand, weeping and beating my breast seems to afford me at least some modicum of satisfaction.

Specifically, in regards to the yoga class, I probably can find another place to practice and I’m sure I can buy aftershave at someplace more classy, like Fred Meyer.

And I suppose when in it comes to George Carlin, it’s even easier: that’s what Youtube is here for.