User:Aleister in Chains/Halloween Yoga Bar

Come dressed in comfortable Halloween attire so you can do your asanas with ease.

When you want to relax in a setting that caters to your lifestyle of Halloween haunty mixed with a large dash of yogaic cheer, where do you go? To Rachael and Karen's Halloween Yoga Juice Bar at the corner of Pranayama and Werewolf in beautiful downtown Eugene, Oregon. The menu of fruit-shakes topped with yummy nutritional yeast, delightfully served with such tasty tidbits as skeleton-shaped organic muffins - your name artfully written in icing across the top and a piece of soy-bone in the middle - captures the beautiful soul and demonic spirit of the "Womb, Bloom, and Tomb Room", as the regulars call it.

Whole-grain cruncy candied cornbread is served at every cushion, crypt, and couch. Tarot card readers, astologers, and the men with caved-in chests and long ears who play with ouija boards are often obliviously lost in informative conversation.

Nearby, darling tinkerbell-like women circulate around the room taking juice orders and working on the negative decision-making effects of patrons' early childhood trauma^[1] Belly dancers and witches entertain the crowd with chants, finger cymbals, and loose hipbones, and you may even see a friend or four across the room wearing masks of deranged politicians while relaxing with a smiling hooker full of pazazz and verve and a smoking hookah full of the finest herb. People sing, dance, burn incense, and scream randomly as they honor the sun and the moon throughout the edgy subdued spiritually charged dimly lit eerily calm and peacefully scary atmosphere within the apricot, pink, black orange, and jellyfish painted walls of the well-known godforsaken Jah blessed juice bar.

Where did this blessed monstrosity come from?

Rachael cooking up some grub in the Bar's kitchen.

The Halloween Yoga Juice Bar was the brainchild of a pair of spry nymphs named Rachael and Karen who, while dressed in halloween costumes and living the life of druidic spirits, practiced and taught a brand of raja yoga which combined the better aspects and functional agendas of kabbalah, scientology, "I Love Lucy"ism, and discordianism. Addicted to sunlight, moonglow, and sage, Rachael and Karen rode their brooms in the proper direction and for the desired time^[2]. Listening to no one but their own inner knowing and a few stanzas of the whiffinpoof song, Rachael and Karen applied for permits to shriek at will on public thoroughfares and turn into goats whenever anybody noticed and approached. Once freeing themselves of all inhibitions and most daily arrangements, they then threw caution to the wind just to see where it would land and who grabbed it up like a security blanket. On one of those days, when it came time to open an establishment for the gathering of the likeminded, Rachael and Karen hesitated nary a second in the creation of the Halloween Yoga Juice Bar.

Your calmly haunted friends!

"Eeny meeny miny mo, catch an otherly-abled vegan pagan lesbian of color by the toe. If she hollers or is holier than thou, let her go (let her go for a thai back massage and an upper-colon cleansing!), eeny meeny miny mo" reads the old wooden aztec lettering carved into the old wooden sign hanging above the old wooden door to the Halloween Yoga Juice Bar. The Juice Bar sign makes everyone feel welcome, like they've become a member of a loving and sharing community - or like when they're a blonde puppy in a bonded pack of bloodthirsty vamps. People greet the regulars with shouts of "Namaste!" and "Boo!" while warning newcomers "Fasten your seatbelts!"

Once inside the creaky but smoothly opening front door, they can fill their pockets with newly dug grave dirt complete with arrowheads, buttons, and posies, and mix it with the scent of holy incense which have been intent-powered and blessed by the likes of Baba Ram Dass, Swami Satchidananda, and Swami Rama, bless their hearts (which are kept in mason jars near the kitchen^[3]

Patrons can walk or climb to their chairs, cushions, or crypts while glancing upon walls that have "fake" arms, spines, and heads ghoulishly twisting on spikes - an exhibit of the more advanced hatha yoga positions in which scarred and rigid muscle eventually comes back to its natural state through stretching, mentally spotting tight muscles, and learning to clench and relax every muscle in the body at will,^[4], like a lizard or a hound dog or a freeview of classic films, all available under the table and across the cloud.

Bathroom

The Halloween Yoga Juice Bar bathroom attendants, crazy warlord medicine men dedicated to blessing or cursing each patron daring to use their drains,

A night of lovin' at the Halloween Yoga Juice Bar

The spine's importance in hatha yoga is illustrated by Fred and Ethel, two former bar patrons who now hang around near their favorite yoga mats and massage table. See how they stretch their lumbars? You're as young as your spine stretches, yogis say, and Fred and Ethel here are ageless!

There is a tale twice told of the night when a young woman walked into the Halloween Yoga Juice Bar looking for a listening ear and a kind shoulder to cry on. She said her name was Mary, and she claimed to have lost her coat and her magic slippers. Hippies, ghouls, and teens dressed as fireman and Harry Potter circled around Mary, some trying to tell her how much water to drink to loosen up the spine, others trying to cop a feel. Mary loved them all, and they hugged and laughed and smoked their funny smelling cigarettes until dawn, when Mary suddenly was gone! The others looked all over the Juice Bar but couldn't find her worth a damn.

On their way home two of the hippies and one of the ghouls stopped in their tracks, for there, laid across a tombstone in the local cemetery, were a pressed and folded coat, a pair of magic slippers, a little lamb, and a halloween-candy bag full of health bars and exotic East Indian seasonings. The tombstone was inscribed "Mary Hummingbyrd, 1942-1968, Loving Friend, Beatnik, and Hippie". The hippies screamed and ran like hell while the ghoul knelt down and prayed for her soul.

As Above, So Below express elevator

The ride between heaven and hell is a one way trip, sucking the soul right into or out of you - depending on the time of day and where in the zodiac your sun sign intersects with the realm of gods and goddesses, and how many good-energy-pounds per square inch you emit and reflect, measured per dozen bites of the taffy apple - and then you turn around, catch the return trip, and enjoy the enticements of the other. The As Above, So Below express elevator of the Halloween Yoga Juice Bar glides effortlessly between its basement and its attic, tracking the spinal nodes nervous system route of the kundalini kabbalistic left and right-sided chakra spins to just a little above the top of the crown all the way "down (see As Above, So Below)" until you go out the bottom. This elevator has no 13th floor. But it pretends that it does, and where other elevators sooth you to sleep with canned Kenny G level musical sleeping pills, Rachael and Karen's prearranged prerecorded Fauve inducing willow ride leaves the occupants breathless and finally knowing how to breath in quick succession.

"Do you have change for a rainbow, mister?"

Sometimes someone will wander into the Halloween Yoga Juice Bar looking for a shot and a beer, not knowing what they are getting themselves into. They leave hours later, their unhealthy shit scared out of them during a high colonic, their body thai massaged, rolfed, alexandered and feldenkraised, their hair and skin turned white from fright and scaling, and their life both prolonged by what they've learned and shortened by the effect of spiders and full-size Frankenstein monsters seemingly jumping out at them at odd angles as - having been well-hydrated by the waitresses - they make their way to the bathroom.

Kitchen

The back room

Rachael and Karen have a wonderful little secret. It's a secret which you really want to get in on. If you are a long-time visitor to their Juice Bar, or are someone they recognizes on first glance as "there" already, one day you'll be taken by the hand and led through the kitchen to a door you've never seen before. The shining, sliding, and naturally sanitizing black-light framed door to the back room of the Halloween Yoga Juice Bar is about to open.

Creeeeeeeekkkkkkk (the door kind of creaks like in a haunty house, or with the sound a spine makes loosening up).

You immediately spot the raven with either dreadlocks or deadlocks above the mantlepiece of the walk-in fireplace. Lighting your fire and incense burner with a 15th century candlestick, you see past the raven to the little swami guy sitting next to it. "Hello!" the little man says. "Nevermore" says the raven.

Do you have a problem picking up teddy bears? Then stay away or run as fast as you can from/to this room, frontal lobe notwithstanding, because besides the obvious psychological damage that you've experienced somewhere along the line, you will get to confront the fur of teddy bears, which line the walls and hang from the ceiling. The floor - an ancient oak and bone mix - waffs the scent of poppies, pumpkins, and sandlewood from every square inch.

As you settle into the chairs/lairs scattered about the room, people who travel the Halloween Circuit via flying ointment and/or chalk will strike up conversations with you that often your won't even hear (or hear about).

Namaste! Boo!

"I'll have a carrot juice with a splash of unicorn horn please."

The Halloween Yoga Juice Bar opens with the dawn ceremony and begins to shut down just after midnight, although the loving and intelligent companion wolves politely howl during last call around 1. So please tell everyone to come by, lay down their inappropriate decision patterns and dry bones, and join us to howl at the moon while getting expertly tantrad in the luxury of the bar's backyard patio/sweatlodge/drip-pit/game room.

Before you leave, please leave a nice tip for your waitress, although sometimes, depending on the size of your output field and your degree of tolerance for others, before you know it right in front of your eyes the waitress may pretend to tear at your neck and/or expertly massage it!

Relaxed muscles on a skelatal foot notes

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