A Short Clip of Fantuzzi’s UNIVERSAL LOVER

At BhaktiFest in Joshua Tree, I watched Fantuzzi play his song, Universal Lover and thought I’d try it. Played here in DADGAD guitar tuning on my Taylor 414ce. I have to be careful with this instrument; it spent four years with me in Hawaii where it was soaked in humidity. The last eight years its been drying in the Arizona desert. Not good for an instrument. But this guitar has a deep resonance I love.… read more...

Who Moved the Yoga Mat Thank you OM YOGA Magazine (UK)

https://www.ommagazine.com/who-moved-the-yoga-mat/

Who Moved the Yoga Mat

Along the way, yoga takes over and changes people. We bend, stretch, breathe deeply, and pose moves our bodies to more flexibility and efficiency, increased balance, bodily awareness, and a host of other well-documented physical benefits. Along the way, the mind improves too as we enter the land of enhanced concentration, improved relaxation, ease in letting go, and a heightened awareness of what’s important. A result of these differences is what yogis think of as medicine.

I’ve directly experienced yoga’s positive changes and improved flexibility and balance. They are specific and objective measures that bode well for my aging that I can easily demonstrate to anyone. The other aspects are subjective; I cannot qualitatively demonstrate the ability to remain calm in stressful situations, a willingness to let go, better awareness, or better decision making and discernment.

I’ve learned that yoga is not about ability or athleticism; it’s about an altered perspective to deeper awareness. Greater awareness is not something I’ve achieved and is not something I can put on a resume as a past job accomplishment. Greater awareness is not a marketable skill as it will not convince an employer that I’d be a good candidate for a managerial position; but when I hold up the mirror of self-awareness, it tells me that I am fluid and open to learn, to change, and therefore poised for personal and professional growth. That’s the kind of person I want for my manager.

But my practice, 13 years in the making, has directly impacted me. If yoga could speak, it would tell me that since I started yoga, my mindset is more agile, my way of looking at life has shifted, and my adaptation to change is fluid, including a move to a new state, new work, a new community, and new goals.

PORTLAND REVIEW Thank you.

Ghosts Are Full Here as the Hungry Half Moon Rises

PORTLAND REVIEW MARCH 2025 Prose, Poetry, and Art since 1956

And so am I, full with the imprints of time and memory. I am rich in soul, yet I’m hungry for more. It’s not a feast I want: I want what singer Sam Garrett wants, “More life, more blessings; more peace, more unity.” Through the years, I’ve discovered ghosts here in the ashes of people spread on the lake shore. By here, I mean “The Old-Style Place,” a cabin that has been in the family for fifty years. Rustic, well-built, no running water, no bathroom, just an outhouse.

In the spring, one chore involves cleaning the outhouse; this means removing snake skins, sweeping away mounds of spider webs, and mopping up dust. Many people would not like this place. Tonight, I note the silence and half-full Buck Moon, a cipher in the sky hiding behind branches of the large pines.

Honoring the remnants of life’s past is part of my yearly visit here, just as it was for those who left their relatives on the shore. Imprints remain from those who sat on the dock watching the western sun set over the lake. Many of them have passed on: my parents, a childhood friend, an uncle, a few aunts, grandparents, and the many others.

They’re all here. Tonight.

The evening moves at a slow summer pace, transitioning from dusk to dark when loons begin wailing and yodeling. The loon call has a mystical, otherworldly quality; I hear its echo all around this quiet lake and am convinced there is nothing else like it.

CREATIVE Collaboration: A Fox Sparks a 20-Year Collaboration in Drums, Poems, and the Music of Thorburn/Ormson

Here, writing has turned acoustic and the instruments include a Vox keyboard, sitar, clarinet electric guitar, acoustic guitar, and voice. I’m open to hearing from you on this no matter what you have to say.

In a poetry recital at The Peter White Public Library in Marquettee, Michigan Russ Thorburn read his poem, “The Fox.” My part was to keep a beat with drum(s) to his words, so I put several small squares of wax paper under the wire bridge on the bottom of the snare drum to separate the snare-wires from the batter-head. This allowed for a snare sound, but not an overpowering blast, more like raindrops on a tin roof. I played the snare with chopsticks to the rhythm of Thorburn’s reading.

The sound from those chopsticks – stepping lightly – clicked to the rhythm of Thorburn’s stealthy fox. It never left me, and our collaboration continued over the years with lots of crazy things. Some of them failed, some of them failed worse. But through it all we developed lives marked by craft and grace, meeting all the moments with acceptance. Sometimes, we’d share a dram of whiskey in Marquette too, and even if we drank it from a cup, it was always: crafty, graceful, randomly graceful, and even glorious.

Both Russ Thorburn and Jesus show up in this first song, along with a shadowy wolf-psychology, and a blues-singing bus driver. We see all of them in our reflection, I think. Sometimes, we all have the blues, and Edward Hopper’s lyrics are stamped on our souls. All those yellow lines we cross over in our sleep.… read more...

WE CANNOT FIND LOVE, IT IS NOT LOST

I hear the deep discordant murmurs, and they drive me back to source to recall oracles of love. I hear that love is the only attribute that yearns to, or can be, the fixative to our desert wandering. The proof, you ask? I have it.

A friend and scholar bringing me food when I was starving; admiration with a single word from poet and philosopher, shared space and love of another, smile from a friend, word from a daughter, touch from a son, steady hand cradling the child, guidance of mentor, embrace by heroes, invites from others, and true confessions held and honored by me from all of you. It’s never a me or we, but only love listening to the deep murmurs drowning the joy of our human catholic.

But I’m not done with the list of love, even when it was formed long before me: as in wins, losses, and sacrifices; simple advancements of care through votes for National Parks and roadways, science, medicine, education, well-engineered machines, and well-managed humanities.

I am accepting of this world, and its attendant vale of tears, as it’s all I have. But if love draws me to work, I will aim for truthfulness and audacity. Compelled by this double force for courage, I’ll treat this difficult and harrowing world as THOU, not as IT. That will define my acts not as searching for, but as being in the world and doing the right thing.

This is its own reward, and in my brief and grave traverse in this world, I will willfully participate (I would like to joyfully participate but that’s not always possible) and contribute my voice, along with my hands and feet, to confirm the rumor that love is still alive.

Melody of Mass Inspiration in Audiobook form, Yoga Song

AUDIO BOOK FOR YOUR YOGI: read what others are saying about Yoga Song

Yoga Song is a melody of mass inspiration proclaiming to every yogi that their breath is their sacred song and the soundtrack to their journey of transformation. The 21 vignettes in Yoga Song speak to both the skeptic and the true believer. To those who believe yoga’s therapeutic power, they confirm what they already know, that yoga is an augury of transformation and change. To the skeptic, these vignettes hold out a vision of what could happen to you when yoga turns ordinary moments into extraordinary and aligns each yogi with their breathcentric home.

Ormson narrates his story from insights born in the depths of self-discovery, sharing knowledge, understanding, and experience to inspire listeners. Every yoga song unfolds in the yogi as they become instruments of mind, spirit, emotion, energy, and consciousness. In chapters like, “Transforming the Emotional Body,” “Ritual Process and the Yogi’s New Song,” “Armor On, Armor Off: The Psychology of Yin Yoga,” and “Yogatecture: Blueprint of Transformation,” Ormson’s Yoga Song meets you in grace and opens the way for more grace.

Available in 30 platforms worldwide. Listen to your Audible copy by going here: https://www.audible.com/pd/Yoga-Song-Audiobook/B0C3JB7JK1…

What others say about Yoga Song

“I just read much of your book and I appreciate the connections you make and the questions you ask and there is much wisdom there. I appreciate all that you are bringing to your reader’s awareness, and I wish you all the very best with the book and with your continued yoga practice.” Renee Schettler, Editor in Chief, Yoga Journal.

A Lightening Strike into Evermore Renewal

IT’S THE CHINESE YEAR OF THE WOOD SNAKE AND I HAVE A SNAKE TALE TO TELL #690 on the way to 700

While studying at the Gandhi Peace Foundation in New Delhi, I took a day trip to see The Red Fort, a 265-acre complex built in 1546 for the fifth Mughal Emperor of India. Afterward, I stopped at a roadside market to buy fresh mangoes or pineapples. Suddenly, a man with a wicker basket was in front of me. He lifted it to my face, removed the cover, and said, “You want?” as a cobra slowly rose and flexed its hood eight inches from my face.

I bent backward so fast that I thought I’d broken my back as the cobra rose slowly and subtly from the basket as if seeking opportunity, but it was also ready to strike at lightning speed had I posed a threat. A snake is vigilant and alert to opportunity or danger. Since then, I’ve thought about how that cobra moved to position itself right in front of my face.

A snake is a profound example of graceful subtlety as it converts the friction from sideways-to-sideways movement into energy that pushes their body forward, or upward. When the time is right, and after the snake grows, a wrinkled skin peels away making room for new growth.

There are frictions in all our lives, but the snake teaches how to convert friction into movement. Yoga tells us much the same, reminding us to move not in disease or stress or fast herky-jerky movements – like I did bending away from the snake – but with ease while remaining alert.

The Slow Burn of a Yogi’s Becoming: milestones to 700 Bikram yoga classes

Moved to a new center, fired by a disciplined pattern moment by heated moment, yoga fastens you into a deep curriculum of transformation where your spine moves as it was meant to move and your breath deepens your experience of life. When you step across a liminal threshold into a ritual container – like a yoga studio – and follow the guru (your breath) you drop into a deep well of wisdom.

Yoga invites you to dig deep; when you do, you’ll catch a glimpse of the periphery turned central. You’ll learn to inhabit contentment and put on garments of integrity and your life will feel like slow-motion shapeshifting in space. Bodily shape shifts happen in yoga, but meditation and movement also shift perspectives.

These psychosomatic shifts are yoga’s therapeutic, opening a gate between conscious and unconscious, laying bare a pathway for a return to the depth of self. In the self that is you – the same through all time – a bodily physiology meets a mental/spiritual soul where all space and time is negotiable. This meeting alters the nervous system by pausing the strategic and analytic mind while feeding the meditative mind. Yoga calls this a state of yogacittavrittiniroda.

Yoga’s activation of mind, body, and spirit doesn’t happen on the same timeline for everyone, but yoga’s journey will take each yogi to the ground of their being in a breathcentric and healing therapeutic, setting them on the way to their good things comin’ . . .

Yoga Song, the audiobook for your yogi

AUDIO BOOK FOR YOUR YOGI:

Yoga Song is a melody of mass inspiration proclaiming to every yogi that their breath is their sacred song and the soundtrack to their journey of transformation. The 21 vignettes in Yoga Song speak to both the skeptic and the true believer. To those who believe yoga’s therapeutic power, they confirm what they already know, that yoga is an augury of transformation and change. To the skeptic, these vignettes hold out a vision of what could happen to you when yoga turns ordinary moments into extraordinary and aligns each yogi with their breathcentric home.

Ormson narrates his story from insights born in the depths of self-discovery, sharing knowledge, understanding, and experience to inspire listeners. Every yoga song unfolds in the yogi as they become instruments of mind, spirit, emotion, energy, and consciousness. In chapters like, “Transforming the Emotional Body,” “Ritual Process and the Yogi’s New Song,” “Armor On, Armor Off: The Psychology of Yin Yoga,” and “Yogatecture: Blueprint of Transformation,” Ormson's Yoga Song meets you in grace and opens the way for more grace.



Available in 30 platforms worldwide. Listen to your Audible copy by going here: https://www.audible.com/pd/Yoga-Song-Audiobook/B0C3JB7JK1...



What others say about Yoga Song:



“I just read much of your book and I appreciate the connections you make and the questions you ask and there is much wisdom there. I appreciate all that you are bringing to your reader’s awareness, and I wish you all the very best with the book and with your continued yoga practice.” Renee Schettler, Editor in Chief, Yoga Journal.

“Your writing is very good and would be ideal if you ever fancy contributing on any regular basis, especially in our OM spirit section.”

Riding to the Mysterious Pyramid-Tombs of Arizona’s Outback Story in November issue American Rider Magazine

Full text of story below.

The specter of pyramids rising from the desert seems more Egyptian than Arizonan, and yet for more than 100 years, three pyramids holding the bones of Arizona leaders, explorers, and visionaries have dotted Arizona’s landscape.

I jumped on my Harley Davidson Road King to explore the backstories of people buried within, including Arizona’s first Governor, George P. Hunt, Hi Jolly, a camel herder, and Arizona’s first Congressional Representative Charles D. Poston.

Riders yearning to see tilted Americana or cruise the roads less traveled will find pyramids of masonry, quartz, fieldstone, basalt, petrified wood, mortar, and even fragments from an early Indigenous American structure. Visiting the pyramids will take about 8 hours of riding time, but plan more as you’ll want to explore historical sites and check out the flavor of local shops and restaurants.

Arizona’s desert is a place fitter for camels than people. It’s hard on riders and bikes, requiring frequent breaks for water and gas. Realistically, plan two days and pack your walking shoes. Starting in Phoenix, my pyramid trifecta began on Interstate 10 by going west for 140 miles through Arizona’s Outback to Quartzsite, about 250 miles east of Los Angeles and 82 miles north of Yuma.

Quartzsite is dotted with RV parks catering to explorers and bikers strolling the streets and sidewalks of Quartzsite with dreams, wanderlust, and a thirst for adventure. The same characteristics brought Hi Jolly from Greece to Arizona in 1857.

Hadji Ali, as he was known in his native Syria, was recruited to train U.S.… read more...

The Black Box of America

First published in Oddball Magazine, November 20, 2024

No one missed that country
Men were soft, angry, and violent
Life was brutal and unforgiving
Pretentious and vacuous

Decisions and mutations were cut
in candle-lit back rooms, women were victims
They grabbed what they wanted
Fooled by the same illusion driving men, CONTROL

In apocalyptic bunkers
Dark physicians sang Odes to depression
Men were sheep and folded quickly
Not crying, but telling

Terrifying stories of bad things
Children were frightened and dogs were wild
No one cared about their neighbor
Everyone pretended at everything

The winner’s faces were tan, they lifted weights
Arenas were filled with men and women
Fighting women and men
Everything broke except the glass ceiling

Yuppies kept on building, kept sailing
Went on painting their ceilings
White, of course,
Ignorantly marched toward the future

They cheered the New Year
Hell, everyone cheered the New Year
And drove ATV’s and big boats
Rednecks toasted Monster Trucks as they mashed tiny Japanese cars

Christians decorated Christmas trees in suburban homes
To shots of Irish Crème or Asti
They drank while listening to strains of Bing Crosby’s
White Christmas on their stereo

They made yellow popcorn strings and dutifully attached them to the Green branches.
A ritual ‘round a tree,’ but nobody knew why
There were no ritual elders, there was no ritual wisdom
There was no embodiment of grace

After New Year’s celebrations and narcissistic resolutions
And the dark, wasted days of another empty year,
They awoke bored, helpless, angry at mothers and fathers
Sons and daughters, aunts and uncles, children and in-laws

The population chugged bourbon in the afternoon
And on vacation, they counted numbers in their bankbooks
Children were confused, scared, frozen
Occasionally they trusted a teacher

Once they trusted a priest, just once
But in time, their trust was betrayed
Their faces, tight and alarmed
They suffered daily with headaches and stomachaches

Kids starved for attention
But they got dollar bills
Parents screamed at them
Hurt and eating hot dogs

A 21st Century Recipe For Disaster:
Take a young man and put him in a high-powered car.… read more...

The Black Box of America, a poem by Gregory Ormson

This poem and image was originally published November 20, 2024 by Oddball Magazine. Editors calling it “a monster piece.”

The Black Box of America

Few people called a spade a spade
before the country went up in flames.
-Anon