all photos and text by ilg…

ilg only knows that which comes from feet that can fly,
from biceps, lungs, and quadriceps that know no lie…

the ignorant yogi disregards intense, daily cardio training,
as if cardio fitness is not somehow a part of yoga.
the wise warrior, content to make wholistic progress in all aspects of his
body and mind at the pace of glaciation,
does not disregard intense cardio training as his yoga,
rather, he embraces it as fully as a chaturanga or siddhasana or nadi shodhana pranayama.

only upon the entry into the Bardo will the ignorant yogin – devoid of cardio Wisdom – be surprised
at the up front demand for knowing how to endure sustained intensity of
breath and concentration through intense discomfort of freezing and boiling temperatures and wrathful demonic mind states; each Realm divinely designed to fracture the weak yogins capacity to sustain their Mantra. how easy it has been for us to give up and take up again the habit of rebirth; welcome back Samsara! here i am again! maybe THIS time around i will Wake Up to the authentic Yoga of Wholistic Fitness development!

however, the Wholistic Yogin, one whose understanding of the word, Yoga meaning; Union of All – will leap with Hanuman like fitness and endurance through the Bardo Realms requiring endurance and arrive in the Dewachen, his Soul smiling with appreciation of his life on earth spent training his Wholistic Nature; not merely his strengths.

i’ve climbed through hour and hour of outer wind to claim Turtle Islands most difficult summits…

and have looked down from the top of this amazing Outer World and smiled.

i’ve sat hour and hour again with the shining inner wind, fallen upon my lungs,

and have looked down from the top of this amazing Inner World and smiled.

i’ve laid the physical and spiritual cairns along my humble, powerful Way
so that all may follow,
should they enjoy the monument of my chosen line.

yet i finally find myself falling,
wondering if modern man considers Enlightenment too far a trip
and thus refuse to work at stilling their thoughts
which run as rabid as so many mice…lice.

and the green, serene fields of my own sweat
seem only to shimmer like a great storm

gathering over the Sacred Peak.


i’m off to Durango to (attempt to) race my asthmatic lungs atop my mountain bike…
… and then strike a camp
in a green meadow
stuffed with wildflowers and creatures that scurry.
my camp, nestled
like an infants breath
between two mountains that i know.

smile for me, oh Noble WF Sangha,
for feeble ilg will be
among the sanctity of my beloved San Juan mountains of my youth.

so i am off,
off to the land of the Northern Sacred Peak; Dibentsaa (Hesperus Peak) under whose
summit i was raised.
i feel like an old man
in old times
hearing sounds of harps
from the high mountain spirits…

enjoy the DL Archives; Tuesday i must Teach in the Kinlani Cave,
so i shall bow to you then.

May Your Practice Purify…

om so ti,
your mountain yogi

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