Christopher Hitchens is Absurd.

Christopher Hitchens’ hack scholarship on the subject of religion is utterly inexcusable, and his latest absurdity on Huffington Post firmly cements him as having no place in serious theological debate.

Hitchens’ first and most egregious gaffe is his statement that all religions view the history of humankind as starting several thousand years ago.

“Alas, no religion of which we are now aware has…made any allowance for the tens and probably hundreds of thousands of years of the human story.”

Any two-bit religious scholar knows that Buddhists and Hindus count time in kalpas, or  segments of millions of years, and that they firmly believe the earth was created billions of years ago. There are many prominent Hindu scholars, in fact, who posit that some of the best loved Hindu legends from the Mahabharata and the Ramayana are in fact tales from Neanderthal times. The religious cosmology of the Ancient Mayans included a mathematically accurate calendar spanning hundreds of thousands of years. Vast areas of history and religious experience are completely overlooked because — like most atheists — Hitchens is incapable of understanding that for most of human history and in most cultures, science and religion were actually one pursuit.

Hitchens classic argument — that science brings us good things like reason and light and objectivity and human rights and newborn puppies while religion keeps us shackled like slaves in the dark –  is an obtuse track that does no justice to the vast and varied history of global theology. Human rights, for example, which Hitchens assumes to be a result of western science and reason, first took root in recorded history in the Mauryan Buddhist monarchy of King Ashoka, in which torture was outlawed. The adherents of Jainism, a religion which Hitchens is probably woefully unaware of, practice non-violence and non-harming to an extreme measure. Ethical practices have always been intertwined with religious faith. Conversely, atheistic power structures — from barbarian hordes to Stalinist Russia and Maoist China — have been responsible for nearly as many atrocities as the religious structures Hitchens condemns.

But the fundamental problem with Hitchens argument is not in his vilification of the power structures of world religions — for god knows (sic) that these structures could use an overhaul — but in the classic and perennially obtuse atheist’s argument that they have science on their side and religion doesn’t.

Only in the western mind does the existence of deity contradict science, and truth be told, not even there. There is nothing in western scientific thought that denies deity.  Most scientists, from Newton to Darwin to Planck to Oppenheimer, believed in deity. And there are clear — and ever more defined — places in quantum physics where religious thought and scientific thought overlap. Modern-day atheists, however, have come to assume that if one is “rational” or “scientific” it means that one does not believe in god. Victims of the western Church-Science split, these atheist casualties are so spooked by the atrocities of religious power structure that they are unable to do any serious study of the history of human thought on God.

In many traditions, religion and science have always been and do remain inextricably linked. Indian history, for example, contains a vast body of incredibly sophisticated scientific/academic literature on god, concepts of god, consciousness at it relates to god, the human body and human thoughts and emotions in relation to god… and, in the case of Kashmiri Shaivism for example, quantum physics as it relates to god. The concept of spanda in Kashmiri cosmology is one of the most intellectually complex and sophisticated views on divinity ever put forth. Abhinavagupta — the brilliant architect of much of Indian thought–  penned theistic texts over 1,000 years ago that contain scientific truths that physicists are just now confirming.

Most atheists I’ve encountered, Hitchens included, have an extremely limited concept of what God might even be, as they exist in reaction specifically to the Judeo-Christian-Islamic god as revealed by through current religious power structures.

I am all for reforming religious structures. But the logical leap from reform of religion to abolishment of all belief in deity is a fool’s leap. Sadly, in many of his writings, this is a leap that Hitchens takes all too often. I do believe that somewhere lurking beneath the gas and bile is a genuinely smart person — would that he would take the time to afford his subject matter the care, attention, and multiplicity of voice that it deserves.

The Batey.

*The word Batey traditionally signifies a neighborhood comprised of Haitian sugar workers in the Dominican Republic.  Now it is often used in the DR to refer to any rural Haitian slum.

Haitians experience the worst poverty in the Western Hemisphere. And the Batey I visited, on the outskirts of the village of Munoz, is no exception. There is little access to medical care, most of the inhabitants have no work, clean water is scarce, and hundreds of people are forced to share a handful of toilets. The dwellings are shacks, and the narrow alleyways run with open sewage.

Through the kind and generous people at SunCampDR, I was fortunate enough to visit the Batey and was allowed to photograph at will.  While I was met with some questioning stares, for the most part I was greeted with warm smiles and treated as a guest. I can’t say enough about the people.  Their dignity, beauty, and grace under the worst conditions truly inspired me.

Knowing that this place exists a quick three hour flight from New York City,  I’m determined to do what I can to help the people of the Batey.  More details to come soon.

Help Me Help the Poor Children of DR/Haiti.

Dear Friends and Family,

I will be spending this Labor Day weekend in the Dominican Republic volunteering in an impoverished village comprised mainly of Haitian refugees and sugar workers.

In addition to sending them basic supplies such as shoes, clothing, backpacks, pens, and notebooks, I will be working with the young people of the village on a film project in which they document their lives, their stories, and their communities themselves. I have worked on this type of film project before and the results are wonderful. The short film that we create will be used to create awareness of the situation in the bateys of the DR and raise further funds.

To get this project done I need to raise at least $500, quickly.  Please consider donating $10 or $20 dollars. If you want to help, donate here through my friends at the New Orleans Kid Camera Project.

We will know which donations came through this site from this time period, so the money will go to me.

Your contribution will help cover the costs of this film project and will buy much-needed supplies for the people of Munoz. Please note that your receipt will read as a donation to The New Orleans Kid Camera Project or to ‘One Bird’.

Steve Ross is the Anti-Christ.

I’m no yoga purist. I can handle the fact that the ancient disciplined practice I follow has morphed into more varieties than there are unnecessary flavors of Ben and Jerry’s or spin-offs of Law and Order. I can accept acro-yoga, hot yoga, yoga and chocolate workshops, and even yoga studio/wine bars (though someone has yet to explain to me the connection between clearing ones mind and dulling it.)  But at some point, somewhere, “yoga” ceases to be yoga.

Well, I found that point.

Whatever it is that is happening on Sundays at Maha Yoga in Brentwood, whatever bizarre, packed ritual it is that is being presided over by a man who bears an eerie resemblance to Frankenstein’s younger hippie brother in MC Hammer pants or to the guy who convinced those Nike-clad cult members in 1996 to down their cyanide applesauce so they could board the UFO, it sure as hell isn’t yoga.

I can handle botox-infused Brentwood housewives yammering about nothing as we wait in line. I can handle “righteous dudes” in frat necklaces and billabong gear jostling their way to the front of the line all the while smiling those fake “Its all good… but if I had a choice I’d stab you in the back and enjoy it” smiles that are so popular in Los Angeles. I can handle music cranked up to 12 and vague and barely audible “alignment” instructions that sound like they are being delivered by a ESL instructor with a speech impediment. I can handle the dude in front of me who thinks that this is his personal time to practice nothing but handstands even if he’s falling on other people’s mats. And I can even maybe handle the mid-class back massages that spontaneously erupt between students and the prolonged gooey hugs Ross inflicts upon his mostly female minions.

There is a point, however, where I draw the line. There is a point where I wonder what the difference is between this and some weird sweaty pit of self-congratulatory Southern Californian chaos. Half the class stops practicing whenever they want and “does their own thing”. The other half half-heartedly listens to the cult leader and loudly discusses what they’re going to do after class throughout the entire 90 minutes. And, true to character, Billabong dude has his blackberry out by his mat and is repeatedly pausing, mid-”pose” to send texts. Texts. Not to sound like a puritan, but that’s not yoga.

You might ask why get so incensed about a silly yoga class. Well first, as I said,  its not yoga. As many varieties of Yoga as there are, there is one binding and defining thread — a basic principle, illuminated 2,000 years ago (and now tattooed into my forearm) — yoga is the practice of stilling the mind.

Yoga is not texting, or talking incessantly, or saying: “look at me.” Yoga is not discussing what you are going to do later. You might be able to get a fine, sweaty workout doing any of those things, which is perfectly great. But you aren’t doing yoga.

Steve Ross, whose surprisingly well-written book — which he clearly didn’t actually write — is called: “Happy Yoga” might argue that yoga is about doing whatever you feel in the moment as long as it makes you happy. I’m sure that’s an argument that his Los Angeline flock would love to hear. Nothing pumps up a crowd of Angelinos more than being told that doing whatever they want whenever they want is not only ok, its actually spiritual. Steve Ross’s class is spiritual in the same way that buying a $20 million “green” estate actually helps the environment — i.e. it isn’t, and it doesn’t.

Everything that was reinforced in Ross’s class — having no concern about those around you, having no discipline or inner quiet, paying no attention, and doing whatever you want whenever you want — runs completely contrary to yoga. Its the yoga of “dammit I deserve that SUV,” the yoga of checking your daily yoga class off your to do list, the yoga of “hey guess what, I’m doing yoga, OMG, what are you doing LATER?”

So yes, Steve Ross is clearly the anti-Christ. Not because of the crazed and vacuous grin that can only be the result of some form of spiritual ice-pick administered directly into his frontal lobe.  Not because of that godawful picture from Steve’s website of him leering in front of a pastel mandala — though that certainly adds to the case. I choose the word ‘anti-Christ’ very specifically because the values that are on display on Sundays at Maha Yoga are the exact opposite of humility, self-reflection, awareness, serenity, kindness, and respect.

Given current global conditions, the philosophy of do whatever you want whenever you want is quite possibly soon to be an endangered species. And if that’s a scary thought, which it probably is to most in the greater Brentwood area, then I have a great suggestion: go do some yoga.

I write this in all seriousness, because I hope somewhere, pre-apple sauce Steve knows this is true and will start actually teaching yoga again.

_____

Final note. Before you start wincing about the excoriation I just delivered and actually start feeling bad for the man, please take into account the following:

1) He’s above it all.

Anyone with that kind of enlightened smile probably doesn’t care about a silly internet twit like me writing derogatory things about him. Whatever I write simply passes through that spiritual sieve of a mind like fluffy hairballs passing through a high powered British vacuum cleaner.  So I might as well write exactly what I want, as I know there is no way that anything I write will have even the smallest effect on a master like Steve.

2) He’s a millionaire.

I don’t really have the bank account stats to back it up, but the man has his own Oxygen network show, Yoga Studio, and throngs of fans who line up down the block for his Sunday classes. If for some reason he is devastated by this article, he can easily take solace in his coven of silicone-enhanced Brentwoodettes.

3) This isn’t really about Steve, its about Los Angeles. And America. And something we probably should get through our thick heads sooner rather than later.

Perhaps it is the Mother of 10,000 things.

Never mind the fake beard and sasquatch references… I call it great.

RIP DC.

Tahina Spectabilis

CNN posted an article this morning detailing the top new species of plants and animals discovered in 2008. Among them, a dime-sized seahorse, the worlds longest insect, and a pale, ghostlike slug from Cardiff Wales. (An ex-girlfriend of mine once took off with a man from Cardiff, Wales who had the complexion and physique of an albino slug, so this one seemed somehow fitting.)

But topping the list in my book is Tahina Spectabilis, a species of palm tree from Madagascar that flowers only once in its long lifetime… but that flowering is so spectacular, bold and exhaustive that the plant dies from the effort shortly after.

Call me a tragic-romantic, but who can’t relate?

That’s all. Now excuse me, I’m going to go listen to Nick Drake and Kurt Cobain all day.

Street Art Revelation #16: Deranged Midgets with Guns.

Technically Herve Villechaize was a dwarf, not a midget, but Deranged Dwarves with Guns doesn’t sound as compelling and after Lord of the Rings the word Dwarf is pretty much reserved for bearded and armored mountain dwellers. For those who are unfamiliar with the sad tale of this diminutive Filipino sidekick/drunk/depressive/chanteur, you can read more here.  Basically, after too many years of alerting Ricardo Montalban to the impending arrival of fictional aircraft, Villechaize cracked and became a depressed drunk. And in one infamous incident, he held up his own agent with a pistol. Seriously. Not to belittle little people, but if a midget pulls a gun on you isn’t it almost impossible not to crack up laughing? I wonder if the death rate during incidents where little people pull guns on people is higher because the victims just don’t take the sight of a midget with a gun seriously.

Anyway, glad I came across this tribute to Herve. And for those who want a little more…

Street Art Revelation #15: Registered Trademark

The phrase “never again” has taken on a whole new meaning. Apparently India-based Swastika Brand Snuff is doing its part to ensure there’s never another holocaust by trademarking the very symbol of Nazi oppression — the Swastika. Genocidal regimes and hatemongering groups will have to think twice now before they make use of this ancient Hindu symbol of wisdom lest they open up a can of Indian legal woop ass. Now, if only the trademarkers could claim retroactive royalties…

(Authors note: at writing time, it is unclear whether Swastika Brand Snuff owns the rights to all representations of the swastika, or just the fluorescent orange swastika as pictured above. Stay tuned.)

“I’m too fast for the Swine Flu”

Apparently we’ve been here before. Somehow I feel like this all has something to do with the Dharma Initiative.

Street Art Revelation #14: What DO those shoes mean?

Ok, I’ve heard so many theories over the years I want to settle this once and for all. What, if anything,  do shoes hanging from a telephone wire signify? Seriously, I want to know. Is it a “gang thing”? A meaningless urban exercise that has now gone viral? Is it art? A primitive form of waste disposal? Tell me. I want to know. Feel free to be correct, nonsensical, poetic, silly, or  rude.