Soft Moshing
Basking in Gravity's return to The Alembic in photos and soundtracks
November 2024 was a big month for Basking in Gravity, my hard to explain participatory meditation and yoga visual art project or installation or ritual or class. Our “Second Sundays” monthly residency at Healer Indianapolis happened on November 10, and featured a work-in-progress version of a new algae video, along with a soundtrack that skewed a little heavier than usual, leaning into blackened ambience on the descent to full-bore death and black metal from Grave Upheaval, Black Curse, Spectral Voice, and Bull of Apis Bull of Bronze. From there it was a return to Berkeley, where the refined versions of both audiovisual components were on view to a full house of new heads and old hands at The Alembic1.
If you’d like to skip straight to the Inter-Dimensional Music, scroll down for streams, DLs, and setlists
Upon returning to Muncie, I led my first chair yoga session at Little Red Door Cancer Agency, a nonprofit working “to reduce the physical, emotional and financial burdens of cancer for medically underserved Hoosiers by providing free client services, survivor programming and education.” Of the three sessions, this was the most intimidating. It’s one thing to talk about “equanimity in discomfort” as part of a psychedelic death-affirmation art project for people dealing with the everyday suffering that we all experience, and another to present these concepts while practicing with cancer patients. We all suffer, but we aren’t all dealing with the physical challenges of chemotherapy, which are all the more overwhelming when you can’t afford chemotherapy. There’s a difference between the inevitable suffering that comes with impermanence, and the unnecessary difficulty that arises when people are trying to profit from that suffering.
One of the through-lines connecting these experiences is that Basking in Gravity is hard to explain, which is both good – it’s novel! – and bad – yoga and meditation can be very annoying and intimidating and it’s not always clear that my thing is (hopefully) something different. But some of the people who enjoy and understand Basking in Gravity are helping me to figure out better ways to communicate what we’re doing. Which brings us to “soft moshing.”
One of my hosts at Healer – Indianapolis’ top-ranking radically inclusive and deeply immersive DIY all-ages art and music venue – was helping me work though this puzzle after a recent session. The question has been on my mind because while Basking in Gravity at Healer is always a good time, it’s been sort of quiet the last couple of months. This is not a complaint! Before I took this project out into the world, it was something that I did on my own at home, so even one other person in the room feels expansive, and Healer’s soundsystem beats our home stereo for sure. Practice with a small group of friends can also be an opportunity for feedback on how well they can hear me, if the intentionally repetitive yoga sequences are getting boring, or if the video projections are distracting. At the other end of the spectrum, I feel like the crowd of 25 or so people who came out to Alembic is about as big of a room as I want to collaborate with.
As Colin from Healer and I were talking about, yoga and meditation have acquired a lot of baggage as they’ve been transformed from esoteric alternative health options into a foundational industry of the booming “mindfulness market.” Yoga has become too goop-y for a lot of people, and Zen has been easily appropriated as a productivity hack for corporate motivational seminars.
So when Colin described the Basking in Gravity experience of slow movement as something like a mosh pit, it really clicked. Of course each pit has its own unique characteristics: To paraphrase a classic Zen aphorism about feet and rivers, you can’t slam your body into the same pit twice: Different pit, different body. But from my experience going to metal and hardcore shows at Healer, the venue’s radically inclusive vibe means that “no karate in the pit” is the default setting for the sweaty whirl of bodies down in front.
We don’t actually crash our bodies into each other during the slow-and-low yin yoga sessions. (Although improvisation is encouraged so if you’ve found a willing partner and you’re not bugging your neighbors, do your thing). It’s more about a communal release of control. Yin is a sinking practice, not a reaching practice; we’re giving ourselves over to gravity. I’m hoping to communicate the same kind of radical acceptance vibe that I felt over 30 years ago as a quiet, shy yoot stepping into the sweat-slicked crush of bodies moving to the chaotic hardcore of Split Lip or Blatherskite at the Broad Ripple Community Center. When I was a teenager, I didn’t want to be touched because I thought people would be grossed out, they’d think I was fat. But the pit was anonymous and everyone was gross. And once you step in, the current takes you.
Of course this was my experience as a white hetero guy slam dancing with a cluster of mostly white hetero (or at least closeted) guys. There are many valid and perpetually relevant critiques of moshing, from Seven Seconds’ 1983 jam “Bottomless Pit” . . .
In the pit, you can't be yourself
You're an image of what's cool
And you ignore your friends
Just another fool
. . . to classic post-hardcore yuks such as:
Q: How many members of Fugazi does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Two. One to screw in the bulb and another to tell people to stop moshing.
While Healer has a “mosh at your own risk” sign plastered on their front door, the copious feminist and LGBTQ+ graffiti suggests this is not a haven for dick-kicking contests between Hatebreed jock jammers.
Mosh pits came up again in Berkeley when everyone was lingering over mugs of hot drinks in the Alembic lounge, coming down from the sold-out session on November 15. Most people wanted to know more about the DJ Screw version of UGK’s “One Day” that brought us out of savasana, but we began sinking into our final resting pose with Lungfish’s mystical post-hardcore(-ish) anthem “Mountains of Peace.” As part of our reminiscing, a Basking in Gravity first-timer used the phrase “soft moshing” to describe the tentative, gentle swaying and bumping that signals that the pit’s gonna blow up with the next breakdown. It’s a phenomena that also reminds me of “crown shyness,” an arboreal phenomenon where “the crowns of fully stocked trees do not touch each other, forming a canopy with channel-like gaps.”
And so a new term has been added to the Cosmic Chambo Lexicon, “soft mosh” joining “non-self improvement” and “void contemplation tactics.” It’s vocabulary that may not totally clarify what we’re doing, but might suggest what we’re not doing, that Basking in Gravity isn’t just exercise with a heavy metal soundtrack. It’s a collaborative project, so nobody knows what it’s going to be until we’re doing it.
As for the Little Red Door yoga, I’m revising class descriptions in a more straightforward manner. It’s one thing to contrast this project with a bog-standard yoga class to hXc people, and another to communicate my focus on accessibility to people undergoing chemotherapy. These sessions also feature 100% soothing ambient tunes, as attendees are likely already well-familiar with practicing equanimity in discomfort during radiation treatments, and do not require high volume visceral death metal to simulate such conditions. As I’ve told people in the past, especially those with specific mobility concerns, I intend for the experience to be accessible to all bodies, but you are the person who gets to tell me if I’ve succeeded in that.
The other through-line between all of these practices is the importance of doing them with other people. I love the idea of “dance like no one is watching,” but also perhaps what if you could dance as freely knowing that we’re all watching each other? We all suffer, and most of us feel a bit self-conscious as well. But a solitary mosh pit might look more like a seizure than the ecstatic physical catharsis of bodies moving together. A practice that is only loosely choreographed by the large inflexible man sitting up in front of everyone. Who is also feeling kind of awkward! It’s been a long journey from “I hope nobody touches me and thinks I’m fat” to “hey everybody look at me doing clumsy yoga poses even though I still feel like a fat guy.”
All of my yoga and meditation projects are collaborative. There is no ballet, no butoh theater, and no mosh pit without dancers. And there is no Basking in Gravity without you. So please join us in Indianapolis if you’re in the mood, or in Muncie at Little Red Door if you’re dealing with cancer yourself, or if you’re a caregiver, friend, or family member of someone who is. Everything about all of these practices is optional, and each practice is unique depending on what we all choose to do, moment to moment.
We’ll be at Healer on Sunday, December 8 from 1-3pm. It’s a sliding scale donation that I split with my hosts. No one turned away for lack of funds, ‘cause if you don’t have an extra $10 to drop on a hard-to-explain yoga thing, then you might need Basking in Gravity more than we need your $10. Chair yoga at Little Red Door is free, and our next session is at 1:30pm on December 18. Contact me directly for more information.
If you’re curious what Basking in Gravity sounds like, scroll down for a few recent episodes of Inter-Dimensional Music FM with edited versions of “live from the yoga mat” DJ sets. (Also remember that chair yoga is 100% free of heavy metals). As always, if you have any questions drop me a line or find me before the music starts.
See you in the pit!
DC
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ID Music 2024.11.02
stream | download
This soundtrack to the October 2024 Basking in Gravity sessions includes radically compassionate ambient music, heavyweight ‘90s dub, and a death magic hymn from the abyss. Our program begins, and eventually comes to an end, with top-ranking vintage New Age vibrations from SUNPATH. Guided meditation from your host.
SunPath - Jasmine (edit)
stardustinmotion - avalokitesvara has one thousand arms for one thousand cats
Common Eider, King Eider - Tombs - Earth's Sacred Womb
Black Curse - Trodden Flesh
Etherealites - Dark Star (Part 1)
SunPath - Jasmine (edit)
ID Music 2024.11.30
stream | download
Our soundtrack for the November 2024 Basking in Gravity sessions includes inscrutable ambient death metal, a screwed and chopped funeral dirge, and several strains of ritualistic antifascist drone and black metal. Our program begins, and eventually comes to an end, with soporific goth shoegaze from Liz Harris. Guided meditation throughout from your host.
Grouper - Sleep (edit)
Häxa Komät - Call In the Seeds Bounty
Grave Upheaval - II-I
Bull of Apis Bull of Bronze - Annihilation
Common Eider, King Eider - As The Soil Rises Up Past Our Bodies
UGK x DJ Screw - One Day
Grouper - Sleep (edit)
Big gratitude to Erik, Kati, Alanna, Erika, Steve, Sam, Michael, and everyone at The Alembic for all of the support and camaraderie in the realization of Basking in Gravity’s second-ever two-channel manifestation. This maximum dose of California sunshine will sustain me through the chill and gloom of the East Central Indiana Rust Belt winter.
I am also extremely fortunate to have friends like Rae who will let me stay in their co-op attics and who are patient when my blood sugar crashes on otherwise breezy post-cacao ceremony bike rides across Oakland. Also once again endless thanks to video art seer Karl for helping me add “bulge” to an After Effects skill set that previously relied exclusively on “rotate,” “scale,” and “opacity.”
I was also thrilled to meet so many new people: I’m impressed with anyone who takes a chance on Basking in Gravity, and deeply stoked to see familiar faces coming back for another round. You are all an essential part of this project, a collaboration that absolutely could not happen without your presence. Special thanks to Michael for “soft mosh.”
Same goes for all the friends who have kept my spirits up along the way. Especially the Midwest heads – from Colin and the home team at Healer to anyone who’s spread their mat on whatever weird and grotty floor we’re practicing on – who have been showing up and encouraging me to keep going for so many years now. It’s good to be home.
And as always all love to my wife Rachel for soothing my anxieties, staying patient when those anxieties persist, and for talking me through trip planning, execution, and (especially) re-integration.
I remember going to see Keelhaul play a one-off show at the punk bar up the street from my old apartment. It was the winter when a polar vortex froze the lake and the temperature went down to -15. I bundled up and left the house anyway and my favorite memory of that night was me and a bunch of friends in our winter coats softly bouncing off each other in a slow moving pit we started in the front that was part camaraderie and love of the music and part "we can keep each other warm this way." Maybe the only time I've ever felt so meditative about those kinds of collective movements. Anyways, that's what I was reminded of when I read this today.