Bushy, Bushy Buddha

I just couldn't get over the hair. I'm usually the conceirge of my group. Always the one to look around, find the good stuff, drag the gang out into the night to some downtown quirky play or gallery or even just down the street on a Monday morning to see a movie. So when I told Shana that I was off to dinner and a concert with my yoga friends, she immediately asked, "Did you plan it?" No, this one belongs to Mary, my own personal yoga guru (everybody should have one). The girls gathered at delux for some great din din and laughs before heading to the main event: a Deva Premal & Miten concert.

Never heard of them? Well, neither did I. But by the end of the night, it's like we were all best friends. Surrounded by lots of long hair and flowing fabrics, we sang and chanted to mantras that were thousands of years old. The music really was so beautiful and the messages were inspiring and peaceful. After most of the songs there was silence and a chance to "hear" the sounds in your own mind in a sort of meditative trance (maybe I'll suggest that to Bono and the boys at the U2 concert in a couple of weeks). The guy next to me knew every word to every song, so I had a chance to kind of fake it and lip sync when we were asked to sing (except for the boy/girl parts where I was on my own). It was interesting to hear about the group's travels and how they brought new and old experiences to the stage. Deva is from Germany, raised by parents who taught her the ancient chants while her husband, Miten, is from England, a child of the 60's. The flute player, Manose, is from Napal and added so much to the show, especially when he played a hard core blues song on a tiny bamboo flute. Deva and Miten have been together about 20 years and, other than the fact the he's old enough to be her father, they are very cute together. They talked a bit about their tantric sacred "togetherness" as well as their upcoming couples retreat in Tulum, Mexico, so they seem to have it all figured out. I got sort of a Donny and Marie feeling with him pushing the "rock-n-roll" guitar and her reeling him back in to the peaceful 108 bead-counting melodies. All in all, great night. But, back to the hair, the bushy, bushy Buddha hair. I've never seen a Buddha with hair. Maybe a little pointy hat every now and then. The biggest Buddha I've ever seen was close to Hong Kong on Lautau Island (above) and he had a sort of Jeri-curl thing going on, maybe hair, maybe a hat, but at least it was neat. The massive Buddha hanging on the stage had hair. Lots of it. Sort of a Bob's Big Boy-ish fake 'do. I kept thinking, "What's with the hair, dude? Is that a toupee? And the beard? Really? A beard, too?" But I guess thousands of years of ancient chanting finally got into my head, because by the end of the night, I didn't even care about the hair. We all walked out in silence, thoughts rolling around and around. namaste.