Road Less Traveled
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth
Then took the other as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way
I doubted if I should ever come back
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood
And I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference
~ Robert Frost
"forks in the road seem like choices, but really when you're lined up, choices are forkless. What's calling you is hands down where you watn to be, so there's no choice to be made. You can't withdraw your desire, or be less than what you've been coming to, so don't cloud the issue with what you should be doing".
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
dear 2008, i like you, please stay
So, it's 2008. Well, 2008 + 18 days which means I'm 18 days late in saying happy new year but - hey - Happy New Year.
Too late to matter? Yeah, I'm sorry. I got caught up in things. The tail end of 2007 was mired in an old story not quite resolved, early 2008 busy laying the story to it's final rest, and the days since busy spinning around the many new doors opening now that old doors are closed.
So far 2008 has been good to me, filled with new friends, inspiration, and great conversations from the most surprising of places. It's been a year of long yoga practices followed by longer coffee breaks with yogi friends, pain-free practices after struggling a chronic injury for FOUR years, suggestions of new directions in work, exciting plans for the coming months, the return of dear friends and the discovery of new ones. It's been a year where things are coming together so easily I'm constantly surprised by the fact that things are actually working out (gasp). I know, the 'year' is only 18 days old so far, but so far? Its been a good freaking year. I think I'm going to like 2008 (so please stay 2008, pretty please with cherries on top).
What makes it even better is that its begun with an ending that makes me sad, with boredom at work, with feeling personally uninspired, and not knowing what comes next or how to fix it - but that's ok. It's ok that, in addition to the wonderful things I mentioned above, I'm also very sad about the boy, bored stiff at work, and lost as to what I want to be when I grow up (or where, or with who, etc) - because I haven't BECOME those things, they don't define me. What I mean is I may still feel sad but I'M not sad.
I've remembered how to make room for happiness and sadness, boredom and inspiration, awesome plans and complete unknowns to be in the same place at the same time and know that sometimes one prevails, sometimes the other, but things will come into balance again whether I stress about it or not (so really, better not). It's the nature of things. And that? That is such a relief after the fall where I didn't feel sadness, I became it and it became me. There was no escape and I stopped even hoping there would be. A fall when I remembered there was a time when I didn't feel hopeless but I couldn't remember how to get back there, like I'd forgotten the lines of a song and they were on the tip of my tongue - but not quite present enough to be able to sing them.
I think that's the blessing of depression; when the cloud lifts you appreciate those moments of sunlight so thoroughly and you know that there will be a time when the sun will go behind the clouds again but there's no need to worry - it will come back. You don't know when or how long you'll have to wait but, have faith, it will reappear.
Just prior to the end of 2007 and the beginning of 2008 I had a beginning and an ending of my own, my birthday. To celebrate, Becky and Jeff hosted a 'Becca-Mas' celebration in Ottawa complete with a ton of friendly faces, live music, lots of food and, best of all, my very own vegan chocolatey-chocolate birthday cake. Shortly after the picture below was taken we bundled up into snowsuits and took our cake outside to enjoy in the neighbour's backyard snow fort - a multi-room snow fort complete with glowing candles and benches to sit on (Ottawa has had a LOT of snow this year).
Sitting in a snow fort in my bright red snowsuit and pom pom hat eating chocolate cake was a pretty awesome way to begin my own new year. Although ridiculously late, to say so, I do hope everyone had a great beginning to 2008 and a kind 18 days so far.
Too late to matter? Yeah, I'm sorry. I got caught up in things. The tail end of 2007 was mired in an old story not quite resolved, early 2008 busy laying the story to it's final rest, and the days since busy spinning around the many new doors opening now that old doors are closed.
So far 2008 has been good to me, filled with new friends, inspiration, and great conversations from the most surprising of places. It's been a year of long yoga practices followed by longer coffee breaks with yogi friends, pain-free practices after struggling a chronic injury for FOUR years, suggestions of new directions in work, exciting plans for the coming months, the return of dear friends and the discovery of new ones. It's been a year where things are coming together so easily I'm constantly surprised by the fact that things are actually working out (gasp). I know, the 'year' is only 18 days old so far, but so far? Its been a good freaking year. I think I'm going to like 2008 (so please stay 2008, pretty please with cherries on top).
What makes it even better is that its begun with an ending that makes me sad, with boredom at work, with feeling personally uninspired, and not knowing what comes next or how to fix it - but that's ok. It's ok that, in addition to the wonderful things I mentioned above, I'm also very sad about the boy, bored stiff at work, and lost as to what I want to be when I grow up (or where, or with who, etc) - because I haven't BECOME those things, they don't define me. What I mean is I may still feel sad but I'M not sad.
I've remembered how to make room for happiness and sadness, boredom and inspiration, awesome plans and complete unknowns to be in the same place at the same time and know that sometimes one prevails, sometimes the other, but things will come into balance again whether I stress about it or not (so really, better not). It's the nature of things. And that? That is such a relief after the fall where I didn't feel sadness, I became it and it became me. There was no escape and I stopped even hoping there would be. A fall when I remembered there was a time when I didn't feel hopeless but I couldn't remember how to get back there, like I'd forgotten the lines of a song and they were on the tip of my tongue - but not quite present enough to be able to sing them.
I think that's the blessing of depression; when the cloud lifts you appreciate those moments of sunlight so thoroughly and you know that there will be a time when the sun will go behind the clouds again but there's no need to worry - it will come back. You don't know when or how long you'll have to wait but, have faith, it will reappear.
Just prior to the end of 2007 and the beginning of 2008 I had a beginning and an ending of my own, my birthday. To celebrate, Becky and Jeff hosted a 'Becca-Mas' celebration in Ottawa complete with a ton of friendly faces, live music, lots of food and, best of all, my very own vegan chocolatey-chocolate birthday cake. Shortly after the picture below was taken we bundled up into snowsuits and took our cake outside to enjoy in the neighbour's backyard snow fort - a multi-room snow fort complete with glowing candles and benches to sit on (Ottawa has had a LOT of snow this year).
Sitting in a snow fort in my bright red snowsuit and pom pom hat eating chocolate cake was a pretty awesome way to begin my own new year. Although ridiculously late, to say so, I do hope everyone had a great beginning to 2008 and a kind 18 days so far.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
hi, i'm four
Me and my little-big sister.
She, of course, looks gorgeous as always. I, of course, look all of four years old - as always.
She, of course, looks gorgeous as always. I, of course, look all of four years old - as always.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
songlines
Shortly after we met in India, before I knew we'd be anything but after I knew I thought he was wonderful, a group of us rented a van to head south to the beach. It being India, the 600km took a full two days; two days crammed into the van contorting our bodies into various shapes in effort to get comfortable. It gave us a lot of time to get to know each other; we had fun telling stories, learning miniscule amounts of Finnish, talking about everything under the sun both ridiculous and serious, and staring out the window daydreaming while the street scenes of India passed us by.
After some time we settled into our favourite spots. I chose the middle section, leaning against the door, feet curled beneath me while the boy settled into the back of the van where he shared his space with an unruly pile of our backpacks. That's one of the pictures of him I hold in my mind's eye: tucked into the back, his long frame curled awkwardly around the luggage and his head ducked to avoid the low ceiling - it was endearing. I knew then.
He was the holder of the laptop and, as such, in charge of the music. Madonna's new CD had just been released and he was obsessed with the song "Sorry", he played it over and over:
I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know
Please don't say you're sorry
I've heard it all before
And I can take care of myself
I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know
Please don't say 'Forgive me'
I've seen it all before
And I can't take it anymore
You're not half the man you think you are
Save your words because you've gone too far
I've listened to your lies and all your stories (Listened to your stories)
You're not half the man you'd like to be
(Chorus)
Don't explain yourself 'cause talk is cheap
There's more important things than hearing you speak
You stayed because I made it so convenient (made it so convenient)
Don't explain yourself, you'll never see
(Chorus)
I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know
Please don't say you're sorry
(Don't explain yourself cause talk is cheap)
I've heard it all before, And I can take care of myself
(There's more important things than hearing you speak)
I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know
Please don't say 'forgive me'
I've heard it all before
I've heard it all before
I've heard it all before
I've heard it all before
Sorry, Madonna
That song, the words, stayed with me throughout our relationship, a cloud tinged with a hint of doom. It may sound like I'm making too much of it, fair enough, but, I've always wondered that I heard it so often way back at the beginning and that it was he who played it, a heads up. And I wonder that I've heard it over and over this week, 2.5 years after its release but just a week after our final ending. It describes our relationship, our fights, our ending perfectly. I just reached a point where I couldn't hear anymore well intended stories, excuses, or the word 'sorry' intended to erase past behaviour. And, yes, he stayed because I made it so convenient.
The sleeper hit this summer was "Big Girls Don't Cry" by Fergie. It played over and over during our month together in Toronto, throughout our breakup, and through the months that followed. It came on the radio when I was driving him to the airport, that last time we would be seeing each other. He emailed when he got home saying how ironic it was that we heard "The Final Countdown" on the radio on that same drive. I found it more ironic that when I changed the channel away from that song (we were emotional enough) the radio landed on Fergie's song:
The smell of your skin lingers on me now
You're probably on your flight back to your home town
I need some shelter of my own protection baby
To be with myself and Center, Clarity
Peace, Serenity
[CHORUS:]
I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightening out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry
The path that I'm walking
I must go alone
I must take the baby steps 'til I'm full grown, full grown
Fairytales don't always have a happy ending, do they?
And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay
[CHORUS:]
It's time for me to go home
It's getting late, dark outside
I need to be with myself and Center, Clarity
Peace, Serenity
[CHORUS]
I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightening out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry
Big Girls Don't Cry, Fergie
That song haunted me throughout the fall. I was like Pavlov's dog - it came on, I teared up, and it was everywhere. I couldn't escape it. And, finally, I offer you the biggest hit of this winter, "Apologize" by One Republic
I'm holding on your rope,
Got me ten feet off the ground
And I'm hearing what you say but I just can't make a sound
You tell me that you need me
Then you go and cut me down, but wait
You tell me that you're sorry
Didn't think I'd turn around, and say...
Chorus
That it's too late to apologize
It's too late
I said it's too late to apologize
It's too late
I'd take another chance, take a fall
Take a shot for you
And I need you like a heart needs a beat
But it's nothing new - yeah
I loved you with the a fire red-
Now it's turning blue, and you say...
"Sorry" like an angel
Heaven let me think was you
But I'm afraid...
It's too late to apologize, it's too late
I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late
I said it's too late to apologize, yeah-
I said it's too late to apologize, yeah-
This song played over and over and over throughout November and December, as if the only option to Christmas Carols was to hear "it's too late to apologize" sung slowly and repeatedly. It haunted me too, made me think of the boy, of how much time had passed and, for the first time, think that it might just be too late. When I heard it in October it made me cry with sadness, when I heard it in December it made me feel strong and resolute - I was healing.
And then he called to ask for another chance and I agreed, but the weeks of talking were messy. Stories were told, promises made and broken, excuses proliferated, and, new this time around, angry words, accusations, horrible control tactics made their way into our relationship. It turns out, it was too late to apologize. I never imangined that day would come but it did.
I'm not writing to mope about the boy or to talk about breakups, more just ruminating on synchronicity - the way seemingly small and unrelated things can reflect what's happening in our lives. I know that the songs don't have to mean anything, and perhaps they don't, but the oddity of this trio of songs sticks with me. Makes me think about the way the universe gives messages of all kinds, tiny and huge, and how, if ignored, they accumulate over time until there can be no more ignoring - it becomes impossible to turn a blind eye.
In hindsight, I wish I'd resisted my fears of losing the boy from my life and paid attention to the signs because there were a lot, much more than three simple songs. Instead I ignored all signs subtle, all signs small, all internal and external messages until I was clubbed over the head with the big one. Which sucked. Still, if I had the chance to do it all over again, I wouldn't do it any other way.
Sometimes we just need to be clubbed.
After some time we settled into our favourite spots. I chose the middle section, leaning against the door, feet curled beneath me while the boy settled into the back of the van where he shared his space with an unruly pile of our backpacks. That's one of the pictures of him I hold in my mind's eye: tucked into the back, his long frame curled awkwardly around the luggage and his head ducked to avoid the low ceiling - it was endearing. I knew then.
He was the holder of the laptop and, as such, in charge of the music. Madonna's new CD had just been released and he was obsessed with the song "Sorry", he played it over and over:
I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know
Please don't say you're sorry
I've heard it all before
And I can take care of myself
I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know
Please don't say 'Forgive me'
I've seen it all before
And I can't take it anymore
You're not half the man you think you are
Save your words because you've gone too far
I've listened to your lies and all your stories (Listened to your stories)
You're not half the man you'd like to be
(Chorus)
Don't explain yourself 'cause talk is cheap
There's more important things than hearing you speak
You stayed because I made it so convenient (made it so convenient)
Don't explain yourself, you'll never see
(Chorus)
I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know
Please don't say you're sorry
(Don't explain yourself cause talk is cheap)
I've heard it all before, And I can take care of myself
(There's more important things than hearing you speak)
I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know
Please don't say 'forgive me'
I've heard it all before
I've heard it all before
I've heard it all before
I've heard it all before
Sorry, Madonna
That song, the words, stayed with me throughout our relationship, a cloud tinged with a hint of doom. It may sound like I'm making too much of it, fair enough, but, I've always wondered that I heard it so often way back at the beginning and that it was he who played it, a heads up. And I wonder that I've heard it over and over this week, 2.5 years after its release but just a week after our final ending. It describes our relationship, our fights, our ending perfectly. I just reached a point where I couldn't hear anymore well intended stories, excuses, or the word 'sorry' intended to erase past behaviour. And, yes, he stayed because I made it so convenient.
The sleeper hit this summer was "Big Girls Don't Cry" by Fergie. It played over and over during our month together in Toronto, throughout our breakup, and through the months that followed. It came on the radio when I was driving him to the airport, that last time we would be seeing each other. He emailed when he got home saying how ironic it was that we heard "The Final Countdown" on the radio on that same drive. I found it more ironic that when I changed the channel away from that song (we were emotional enough) the radio landed on Fergie's song:
The smell of your skin lingers on me now
You're probably on your flight back to your home town
I need some shelter of my own protection baby
To be with myself and Center, Clarity
Peace, Serenity
[CHORUS:]
I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightening out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry
The path that I'm walking
I must go alone
I must take the baby steps 'til I'm full grown, full grown
Fairytales don't always have a happy ending, do they?
And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay
[CHORUS:]
It's time for me to go home
It's getting late, dark outside
I need to be with myself and Center, Clarity
Peace, Serenity
[CHORUS]
I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightening out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life
It's time to be a big girl now
And big girls don't cry
Big Girls Don't Cry, Fergie
That song haunted me throughout the fall. I was like Pavlov's dog - it came on, I teared up, and it was everywhere. I couldn't escape it. And, finally, I offer you the biggest hit of this winter, "Apologize" by One Republic
I'm holding on your rope,
Got me ten feet off the ground
And I'm hearing what you say but I just can't make a sound
You tell me that you need me
Then you go and cut me down, but wait
You tell me that you're sorry
Didn't think I'd turn around, and say...
Chorus
That it's too late to apologize
It's too late
I said it's too late to apologize
It's too late
I'd take another chance, take a fall
Take a shot for you
And I need you like a heart needs a beat
But it's nothing new - yeah
I loved you with the a fire red-
Now it's turning blue, and you say...
"Sorry" like an angel
Heaven let me think was you
But I'm afraid...
It's too late to apologize, it's too late
I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late
I said it's too late to apologize, yeah-
I said it's too late to apologize, yeah-
This song played over and over and over throughout November and December, as if the only option to Christmas Carols was to hear "it's too late to apologize" sung slowly and repeatedly. It haunted me too, made me think of the boy, of how much time had passed and, for the first time, think that it might just be too late. When I heard it in October it made me cry with sadness, when I heard it in December it made me feel strong and resolute - I was healing.
And then he called to ask for another chance and I agreed, but the weeks of talking were messy. Stories were told, promises made and broken, excuses proliferated, and, new this time around, angry words, accusations, horrible control tactics made their way into our relationship. It turns out, it was too late to apologize. I never imangined that day would come but it did.
I'm not writing to mope about the boy or to talk about breakups, more just ruminating on synchronicity - the way seemingly small and unrelated things can reflect what's happening in our lives. I know that the songs don't have to mean anything, and perhaps they don't, but the oddity of this trio of songs sticks with me. Makes me think about the way the universe gives messages of all kinds, tiny and huge, and how, if ignored, they accumulate over time until there can be no more ignoring - it becomes impossible to turn a blind eye.
In hindsight, I wish I'd resisted my fears of losing the boy from my life and paid attention to the signs because there were a lot, much more than three simple songs. Instead I ignored all signs subtle, all signs small, all internal and external messages until I was clubbed over the head with the big one. Which sucked. Still, if I had the chance to do it all over again, I wouldn't do it any other way.
Sometimes we just need to be clubbed.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
staying in the moment
I felt great this morning. Empowered. Free. Unencumbered. All morning I whispered my prayer to the universe "please don't email me...please don't email me...", not because I don't want him to email me but because I don't want the pain, the games, the half truths, the false hope that the emails incite. I didn't want this forward momentum to be interrupted by being yanked into the past again. When I checked my email and found nothing, I lifted my head and smiled. Relieved.
I enjoyed a lazy yoga practice, coffee with a friend, sang loudly to bad music in my car, had a gorgeous afternoon visit packed with messages of inspiration, and came home to prepare to teach yoga to a friend. As I went about my business I felt so grateful that I get to stay in Toronto to enjoy more perfect days, just like this one. I thought curiously of Copenhagen and tested myself - did I want to go to Copenhagen this summer? Yes. I did. I hoped so hard for it to happen, for it to be real this time. I looked forward to living a little yogi life in Copenhagen with my boy. But Copenhagen is not going to be, he made sure of that, so I'm also glad not to disrupt the flow of what is shaping up to be a wonderful life and the community developing around me in Toronto by leaving again.
Then, sometime after dinner, it hit me. Wow, no email. He's really not going to contact me. There really won't be a visit. He really is doing this to me again. It really is over - again. I thought of all the ways it hurts to be betrayed, to have my hopes and trust dashed, of how much I will miss him, and how sad it is that we won't be a part of each others lives. The blues settled in with a vengeance.
You didn't know, did you internet? That the boy came back before Christmas speaking of mistakes, of being together, of marriage and two kids, and of certainty that, yes, this is what he wants. He spoke of it for three weeks. Conversations that lasted for hours, negotiations over who visits who where, much convincing on his part that he was serious this time - committed - it all lasted just up until the point that I agreed. And then it fell apart. Sunday evening we agreed that we deserved to give it another chance and settled on arrival/departure dates, Monday morning he spoke of fears, sadness, pain and his broken heart, but no booked ticket. The visit was off. Just like that, just like last time.
I feel exactly as you would expect me to feel after being left by somebody who had spent weeks convincing me of their sincerity - for the second (or is it third?) time. Except a bit different because I've been through this with this man already.
This time I was able to remember that only an hour ago I sang along loudly to bad music while driving home from a great afternoon and looked forward to the surprises my future holds. Now I'm blue. Soon I won't be again. This time I'm able to remember that the ebbs won't stay ebbs, they'll transition into flows before beginning the cycle again, and it's all good. I'm able to remember that I made it through this sadness and loss before and I can do it again. I'm able to remember that I lived a great life without the boy and I'll keep doing so. And I remember that there were a lot of things I was looking forward to doing this summer that I couldn't have done if were in Copenhagen.
And this time is different because I know without a doubt that I did every single thing I could to make this work. I welcomed him back after the painful silence of the fall, agreed to move to be with him, agreed to conditions I wasn't entirely pleased with but was willing to sacrifice to give us a chance, maybe made more allowances than I should have, definitely made more excuses for poor behaviour than I should have, and apologized for my own poor behaviour.
It still wasn't enough to make us work but it was enough to help me make peace with the fact that we are not going to work. I'm not happy about it and it's not what I want; I want the lovely life I imagined I could have with this person, but I want to actually HAVE that life, not to IMAGINE about it and it takes two like minds and equal efforts to make that happen (not to mention being in the same country ;). So, even though I'm sad and disappointed all over again and I will so miss him I can make peace with all of that because there's only so much that I can do and I did the best I could while doing it.
I enjoyed a lazy yoga practice, coffee with a friend, sang loudly to bad music in my car, had a gorgeous afternoon visit packed with messages of inspiration, and came home to prepare to teach yoga to a friend. As I went about my business I felt so grateful that I get to stay in Toronto to enjoy more perfect days, just like this one. I thought curiously of Copenhagen and tested myself - did I want to go to Copenhagen this summer? Yes. I did. I hoped so hard for it to happen, for it to be real this time. I looked forward to living a little yogi life in Copenhagen with my boy. But Copenhagen is not going to be, he made sure of that, so I'm also glad not to disrupt the flow of what is shaping up to be a wonderful life and the community developing around me in Toronto by leaving again.
Then, sometime after dinner, it hit me. Wow, no email. He's really not going to contact me. There really won't be a visit. He really is doing this to me again. It really is over - again. I thought of all the ways it hurts to be betrayed, to have my hopes and trust dashed, of how much I will miss him, and how sad it is that we won't be a part of each others lives. The blues settled in with a vengeance.
You didn't know, did you internet? That the boy came back before Christmas speaking of mistakes, of being together, of marriage and two kids, and of certainty that, yes, this is what he wants. He spoke of it for three weeks. Conversations that lasted for hours, negotiations over who visits who where, much convincing on his part that he was serious this time - committed - it all lasted just up until the point that I agreed. And then it fell apart. Sunday evening we agreed that we deserved to give it another chance and settled on arrival/departure dates, Monday morning he spoke of fears, sadness, pain and his broken heart, but no booked ticket. The visit was off. Just like that, just like last time.
I feel exactly as you would expect me to feel after being left by somebody who had spent weeks convincing me of their sincerity - for the second (or is it third?) time. Except a bit different because I've been through this with this man already.
This time I was able to remember that only an hour ago I sang along loudly to bad music while driving home from a great afternoon and looked forward to the surprises my future holds. Now I'm blue. Soon I won't be again. This time I'm able to remember that the ebbs won't stay ebbs, they'll transition into flows before beginning the cycle again, and it's all good. I'm able to remember that I made it through this sadness and loss before and I can do it again. I'm able to remember that I lived a great life without the boy and I'll keep doing so. And I remember that there were a lot of things I was looking forward to doing this summer that I couldn't have done if were in Copenhagen.
And this time is different because I know without a doubt that I did every single thing I could to make this work. I welcomed him back after the painful silence of the fall, agreed to move to be with him, agreed to conditions I wasn't entirely pleased with but was willing to sacrifice to give us a chance, maybe made more allowances than I should have, definitely made more excuses for poor behaviour than I should have, and apologized for my own poor behaviour.
It still wasn't enough to make us work but it was enough to help me make peace with the fact that we are not going to work. I'm not happy about it and it's not what I want; I want the lovely life I imagined I could have with this person, but I want to actually HAVE that life, not to IMAGINE about it and it takes two like minds and equal efforts to make that happen (not to mention being in the same country ;). So, even though I'm sad and disappointed all over again and I will so miss him I can make peace with all of that because there's only so much that I can do and I did the best I could while doing it.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Monday, December 17, 2007
a lot can happen in a week
This Sunday
Last Sunday:
I guess, in this case, it's better put that a lot can happen in a week when one has a plane ticket and a place to stay down south but it's a wonderful reminder anyway - a lot CAN happen in a week and you just never know.
Last Sunday:
I guess, in this case, it's better put that a lot can happen in a week when one has a plane ticket and a place to stay down south but it's a wonderful reminder anyway - a lot CAN happen in a week and you just never know.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
good things
-> a week at the ocean with nothing more pressing to do than to turn my face up to the sun for warmth while the seagulls, sandpipers, and crashing waves kept me company. I left some of the things I've been carrying behind with the sea and came home lighter. It was perfect. I am lucky.
-> great, big, fluffy snowflakes turning my lunchtime walk into a winter wonderland.
-> the approaching weekend with waaay more Christmas plans and gatherings than I could possibly fit in and tons of people visiting from out of town. It's going to be a fun, laughing, talking, eating, catching up, packed couple of days.
-> the plates upon plates of baked goods that provided ample distraction during today's interminable 4 hour team meeting. I was so busy happily chewing away that I was able to forget how much I hate, hate, hate work meetings. Time flies with my good friends gingerbread, shortbread, and chocolate brownies to keep me company.
->being back at the shala. Morning practices in the empty, candle lit silence of the studio are a sacred way to begin each day. Wednesday night assisting shifts are a welcome interlude marking the middle of each week.
->that this Christmas nobody wants anything as a gift, and they mean it. We are blessed.
-> the most awesome, amazing, wonderful, fascinating book ever that I'm in the middle of reading and the piles more I have to meander through over my holidays thanks to the falling american dollar and cheap publishing practices down south
-> great, big, fluffy snowflakes turning my lunchtime walk into a winter wonderland.
-> the approaching weekend with waaay more Christmas plans and gatherings than I could possibly fit in and tons of people visiting from out of town. It's going to be a fun, laughing, talking, eating, catching up, packed couple of days.
-> the plates upon plates of baked goods that provided ample distraction during today's interminable 4 hour team meeting. I was so busy happily chewing away that I was able to forget how much I hate, hate, hate work meetings. Time flies with my good friends gingerbread, shortbread, and chocolate brownies to keep me company.
->being back at the shala. Morning practices in the empty, candle lit silence of the studio are a sacred way to begin each day. Wednesday night assisting shifts are a welcome interlude marking the middle of each week.
->that this Christmas nobody wants anything as a gift, and they mean it. We are blessed.
-> the most awesome, amazing, wonderful, fascinating book ever that I'm in the middle of reading and the piles more I have to meander through over my holidays thanks to the falling american dollar and cheap publishing practices down south
Monday, December 10, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
obsessed
You have no idea how happy I am with striped socks and tights right now. Too happy. So happy that I look ridiculous. So ridiculous that my look was referred to as 'pippy longstocking-meets-street-urchin' today. Which made me very, very happy indeed.
blackout
There was a blackout Tuesday night covering the eastern half of the city, where I had a class that night. It took me some time to figure out what was going on. I was caught in the usual rush hour madness but had left early (for a change) so instead of being fussed about the inch-by-agonizing-inch progression of traffic, I was caught up in hazy daydreams.
At some point, it struck me that things seemed really...nice outside. Quiet and calm and kind. Completely unlike Toronto at any time let alone during the evening rush hour, and I started to take notice. It was dark. Very, very dark. No streetlights, no store signs, no lights on in the skyscrapers towering above. It was hushed. So quiet.
Drivers shared lanes and took turns at intersections in a most generous way, pedestrians walked with flashlights - some deliberately creating light shows on the building walls around us - and when I arrived at the yoga studio for my ayurveda class I was teased inside by the sight of dozens of candles glowing in the windows. I loved it.
It was cold so class was held in the teacher's apartment downstairs, wrapped in blankets, curled up in front of the fire, and sipping apple cider while M. spun his words of beauty as he does every week and the cat, Krishna, took turns warming the laps of the students scattered about his apartment.
It was a gorgeous, gorgeous evening. Can we have a blackout every night please? Other countries get to do it...
At some point, it struck me that things seemed really...nice outside. Quiet and calm and kind. Completely unlike Toronto at any time let alone during the evening rush hour, and I started to take notice. It was dark. Very, very dark. No streetlights, no store signs, no lights on in the skyscrapers towering above. It was hushed. So quiet.
Drivers shared lanes and took turns at intersections in a most generous way, pedestrians walked with flashlights - some deliberately creating light shows on the building walls around us - and when I arrived at the yoga studio for my ayurveda class I was teased inside by the sight of dozens of candles glowing in the windows. I loved it.
It was cold so class was held in the teacher's apartment downstairs, wrapped in blankets, curled up in front of the fire, and sipping apple cider while M. spun his words of beauty as he does every week and the cat, Krishna, took turns warming the laps of the students scattered about his apartment.
It was a gorgeous, gorgeous evening. Can we have a blackout every night please? Other countries get to do it...
you will be lucky in work
This has been an eventful week work-wise. My current job asked that I stay on beyond my contract conclusion in April and agreed to my proposition that I return in September. Wow. Not only do I get to work at a job I love but I get to do it part time (which I also love) and I get 4 months off to adventure (which I really, really love).
I also received a call from the manager from my most favourite job ever offering me a position. When I declined he sweetened the deal with an offer to join faculty and teach, which I would so love to do. But not this year. My most favourite job ever is still too far away. I am, however, thinking seriously about joining a friend, also a Counsellor, in private practice. She also works part time and is pretty persuasive.
Today I assisted the yoga class for a teacher I don't usually work with but who I know from Mysore. He's asked if I'd take over his classes while he's away in December. It's tempting. They're level one classes which I'd be comfortable teaching but I don't feel ready yet and I really love assisting. It's wonderful to be able to work with students one-on-one while someone else does all of the talking that's the norm in Toronto yoga studios.
After yoga I went to the cozy coffee shop with the free wifi and big couches and finished a story I've been working on that I plan to submit for publication. While I was there I remembered a day a few years ago. I'd left work early to go to the Doctor's. After my appointment I stopped for a coffee and I noticed all of the people just sitting around enjoying their afternoon - in the middle of the work day! I was perplexed by these people, how did they do it? Didn't they have to work? I wanted what they had and I was sure that one day I would work part time.
There are things I have always hoped for myself. That I would work part time. That I would have several different jobs, not one 9-5 job. That I could have 4-6 months off to travel with something secure to come home to. That my job involved helping people. That I would fall in love. That I could practice yoga every day. That I teach yoga. That I write. That I have mentors and find teachers who inspire me. These are a sample.
I mention, of course, the dreams that have come into fruition. There are others that I'm still waiting on. While I wait, I think about the fact that some of the things on that list were truly preposterous, I never dreamed they would come into being, and yet here I am, living what is quite literally my ideal life. I think about the fact that these preposterous dreams came to be while the one thing that seemed fairly simple and very possible did not. And I recognize that if every crazy dream on my list came into being over the last two years while the one 'easy' one didn't, well then, my one thing couldn't have been my one thing could it? I understand that the dream is real, and waiting to come into being, but that the person I thought was supposed to be a part of it wasn't the right person. I get that I can't move on to what is really supposed to be until I make room for it by letting go of old attachments.
It's hard to get it - but not get it. I fully see that I'm fortunate to have this life. To be doing things I love. To have room and opportunity to do things I love. And 95% of the time I'm imbued with the glowing freaking awesomeness of how lucky I am. People who haven't seen me in a while comment on how happy I look, state that I'm glowing. But then there's the other 5% where I hear a song from last summer, or I see a word with 'dot.dot's' over the 'o', or I remember the twinkling lights from this time last year. That 5% of the time I wonder what happened. How things could be so close but not close enough. How hurt I am and how cold you seem. Even though it's only 5% of the time its a powerful freaking 5% and I'm so sad to think that we're not a part of each others' lives anymore and wonder why you wanted it to be that way.
Honestly, I'm so. sick. of. being. sad. It doesn't last long, and it grows more and more infrequent as the days pass, but I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being pulled back there just when I think I'm free of the quagmire of it all. And then the 95% awesomeness takes over and I AM free from the quagmire of it all, at least until I see the letter 'o' with 'dot.dot's' above it or think about saunas. Then the see-saw of emotions tips again. It's a very schizophrenic feeling, all of this, and I really am quite sick of it. Stop the ride, I want to get off.
I also received a call from the manager from my most favourite job ever offering me a position. When I declined he sweetened the deal with an offer to join faculty and teach, which I would so love to do. But not this year. My most favourite job ever is still too far away. I am, however, thinking seriously about joining a friend, also a Counsellor, in private practice. She also works part time and is pretty persuasive.
Today I assisted the yoga class for a teacher I don't usually work with but who I know from Mysore. He's asked if I'd take over his classes while he's away in December. It's tempting. They're level one classes which I'd be comfortable teaching but I don't feel ready yet and I really love assisting. It's wonderful to be able to work with students one-on-one while someone else does all of the talking that's the norm in Toronto yoga studios.
After yoga I went to the cozy coffee shop with the free wifi and big couches and finished a story I've been working on that I plan to submit for publication. While I was there I remembered a day a few years ago. I'd left work early to go to the Doctor's. After my appointment I stopped for a coffee and I noticed all of the people just sitting around enjoying their afternoon - in the middle of the work day! I was perplexed by these people, how did they do it? Didn't they have to work? I wanted what they had and I was sure that one day I would work part time.
There are things I have always hoped for myself. That I would work part time. That I would have several different jobs, not one 9-5 job. That I could have 4-6 months off to travel with something secure to come home to. That my job involved helping people. That I would fall in love. That I could practice yoga every day. That I teach yoga. That I write. That I have mentors and find teachers who inspire me. These are a sample.
I mention, of course, the dreams that have come into fruition. There are others that I'm still waiting on. While I wait, I think about the fact that some of the things on that list were truly preposterous, I never dreamed they would come into being, and yet here I am, living what is quite literally my ideal life. I think about the fact that these preposterous dreams came to be while the one thing that seemed fairly simple and very possible did not. And I recognize that if every crazy dream on my list came into being over the last two years while the one 'easy' one didn't, well then, my one thing couldn't have been my one thing could it? I understand that the dream is real, and waiting to come into being, but that the person I thought was supposed to be a part of it wasn't the right person. I get that I can't move on to what is really supposed to be until I make room for it by letting go of old attachments.
It's hard to get it - but not get it. I fully see that I'm fortunate to have this life. To be doing things I love. To have room and opportunity to do things I love. And 95% of the time I'm imbued with the glowing freaking awesomeness of how lucky I am. People who haven't seen me in a while comment on how happy I look, state that I'm glowing. But then there's the other 5% where I hear a song from last summer, or I see a word with 'dot.dot's' over the 'o', or I remember the twinkling lights from this time last year. That 5% of the time I wonder what happened. How things could be so close but not close enough. How hurt I am and how cold you seem. Even though it's only 5% of the time its a powerful freaking 5% and I'm so sad to think that we're not a part of each others' lives anymore and wonder why you wanted it to be that way.
Honestly, I'm so. sick. of. being. sad. It doesn't last long, and it grows more and more infrequent as the days pass, but I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being pulled back there just when I think I'm free of the quagmire of it all. And then the 95% awesomeness takes over and I AM free from the quagmire of it all, at least until I see the letter 'o' with 'dot.dot's' above it or think about saunas. Then the see-saw of emotions tips again. It's a very schizophrenic feeling, all of this, and I really am quite sick of it. Stop the ride, I want to get off.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
5 good things
-->The way the cat sits at the window waiting for me to come home - I see his little triangle head move to watch me as I travel from the car to the front door but by the time I get upstairs he's laying in the middle of my bed pretending I just woke him up. Strange. But cute.
-->First snow today. Yay.
-->Dancing for hours and hours with my girls last weekend.
-->Christmas carols are back on the radio. Love Christmas carols. Was out of the country through December last year so I missed most of the season. As much fun as it was to hear "Kulkuset" where "Jingle bells" is usually sung, it was also very fun to hear songs that I could sing along to today.
-->My family. They're good people. I wouldn't have gotten through the last few months without them and they still respond to my almost-daily "tell me everything is going to be ok" phone calls with patience. Me love you long time.
I heard a lecture about Aristotle today. Am I the very last person to realize how freaking fantastic some of his ideas are? Don't answer that, I probably am seeing as I was usually busy sleeping when I should have been sitting in philosophy class during school. Whatever. That is one cool dude. My mind is still mulling over what I learned - for example - he said it was impossible to label children as "happy" because happiness is a description of a life, not a momentary emotion, and children hadn't yet massed enough of life to categorize it one way or another. Interesting.
This has been a ridiculously busy week. Although I brought tons of work home with me, I don't have to go into the office tomorrow. Which means I don't have to wake up at 5.30am for once. Which means I might get more than my usual 4.5 hours of sleep. If I go to bed right this second.
So I'm off to do just that. Hope there are good things happening wherever you are.
-->First snow today. Yay.
-->Dancing for hours and hours with my girls last weekend.
-->Christmas carols are back on the radio. Love Christmas carols. Was out of the country through December last year so I missed most of the season. As much fun as it was to hear "Kulkuset" where "Jingle bells" is usually sung, it was also very fun to hear songs that I could sing along to today.
-->My family. They're good people. I wouldn't have gotten through the last few months without them and they still respond to my almost-daily "tell me everything is going to be ok" phone calls with patience. Me love you long time.
I heard a lecture about Aristotle today. Am I the very last person to realize how freaking fantastic some of his ideas are? Don't answer that, I probably am seeing as I was usually busy sleeping when I should have been sitting in philosophy class during school. Whatever. That is one cool dude. My mind is still mulling over what I learned - for example - he said it was impossible to label children as "happy" because happiness is a description of a life, not a momentary emotion, and children hadn't yet massed enough of life to categorize it one way or another. Interesting.
This has been a ridiculously busy week. Although I brought tons of work home with me, I don't have to go into the office tomorrow. Which means I don't have to wake up at 5.30am for once. Which means I might get more than my usual 4.5 hours of sleep. If I go to bed right this second.
So I'm off to do just that. Hope there are good things happening wherever you are.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
i sleep...
...under 2 feather duvets, 1 wool blanket, 1 heavy blanket, and with an electric heating blanket - and the temperature hasn't even dropped below zero yet.
Can't wait to get down south.
Can't wait to get down south.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
hey look! a tree!
It might not have been the best idea to buy a new camera just as fall was arriving. Although I keep going out with the intention to practice my picture-taking skills, there's a very definite theme to where my eye is drawn. I've dozens of pictures like this...
and this...
and this...
and this...
or, for a change, like this...
I love a long, slow wander through the trees and I love autumn. It's little wonder I have hundreds of pictures of trees and leaves. I figure mother nature will provide plenty of opportunity to practice composition etc throughout the winter when her muted whites and shades of gray make things a bit more challenging.
and this...
and this...
and this...
or, for a change, like this...
I love a long, slow wander through the trees and I love autumn. It's little wonder I have hundreds of pictures of trees and leaves. I figure mother nature will provide plenty of opportunity to practice composition etc throughout the winter when her muted whites and shades of gray make things a bit more challenging.
Friday, November 16, 2007
on being an ox
Sick loved ones, discord among the same, an unkind ending, a bruised heart, crippling depression, unexpected career changes, insomnia, loss of weight, instability just about every which way I turn...nice try world. I'm still here. You didn't break me.
I read a story the other day about a woman who asked her guides why life had to be so hard at times. They answered by drawing comparison to an ox, animals known for their strength and endurance, asking her how an ox would know it possessed such strength if it weren't required to pull such heavy loads now and again.
I get it. I'm an ox.
For a while I couldn't make sense of the last few months. Why I was buried under so much...stuff...and why every time I thought I'd reached my maximum - something else was added. I have never, in all of my life, been so blackly depressed. It wasn't just about the end of a relationship, it was about me. So to all those people who kept saying "it's been a while, you should get over it", you got it wrong. It wasn't about getting over the boy.
I don't think I'll ever *not* feel that the way things ended was unkind and, of course, I miss many things but I don't miss the struggle of trying to matter. With the hindsight of the way things were ended I can see what I refused to see at the time - that I didn't ever matter the way I wanted to. I couldn't have. We didn't want the same things from life or from each other and neither of us was wrong, we were just wrong together. That difference, that I stuck around so long, and that there wasn't more straightforward communication has been a bitter pill to swallow. Still, in the end his stuff is his stuff, mine is mine. My stuff was about clarifying what I want from life, about how I want to be treated in a relationship, about having stayed where I shouldn't have because I was afraid to lose someone, about trying to resist change, about settling, about working too hard at times, about losing faith in myself, and, even more so, about losing faith that I'm going to be ok. I've never lost that faith before - no longer believing that I was going to be alright was the hardest part of all. For a while I was buried beneath the heavy, dark, suffocating impossibility of it all.
But I'm through it. There's been a shift and I feel as if I'm lit from inside again. I'm glowing. Last night I went down to the lake, lay on the rocks by the water and looked up through the crisp autumn air at the stars and I found myself whispering "I'm alive". It was delicious. A celebration of that absolute kicking, dancing, twirling joy at the very fact that I get to be alive in this body, in this reality, in this life when only a few weeks ago I wondered how I could possibly drag myself out of bed to face one more day (and on many days, I simply didn't).
It was hard having my stuff thrown in my face in such an abrupt manner and by someone I trusted not to hurt me, but would I have paid attention any other way? I'm not so sure. It it had been left up to me, I would never have ended things. But it wasn't up to me alone and so I've learned about acceptance - even for those things that I don't welcome - and I've learned things about myself that I never, ever would have opened myself up to if I hadn't been forced into it. I'm grateful. I wouldn't know what I wanted, what I was ready for, and what I'm capable of if without the last couple of months. I want to acknowledge that I was lucky to have had that relationship with that person with that terrible ending and with that broken heart. Very, very lucky. Without it I wouldn't know what I want and I wouldn't be prepared for what I get to go on to next. I wouldn't know that I'm an ox!
Now I know. Now I'm ready. Now I can say thank you.
Thank you.
I read a story the other day about a woman who asked her guides why life had to be so hard at times. They answered by drawing comparison to an ox, animals known for their strength and endurance, asking her how an ox would know it possessed such strength if it weren't required to pull such heavy loads now and again.
I get it. I'm an ox.
For a while I couldn't make sense of the last few months. Why I was buried under so much...stuff...and why every time I thought I'd reached my maximum - something else was added. I have never, in all of my life, been so blackly depressed. It wasn't just about the end of a relationship, it was about me. So to all those people who kept saying "it's been a while, you should get over it", you got it wrong. It wasn't about getting over the boy.
I don't think I'll ever *not* feel that the way things ended was unkind and, of course, I miss many things but I don't miss the struggle of trying to matter. With the hindsight of the way things were ended I can see what I refused to see at the time - that I didn't ever matter the way I wanted to. I couldn't have. We didn't want the same things from life or from each other and neither of us was wrong, we were just wrong together. That difference, that I stuck around so long, and that there wasn't more straightforward communication has been a bitter pill to swallow. Still, in the end his stuff is his stuff, mine is mine. My stuff was about clarifying what I want from life, about how I want to be treated in a relationship, about having stayed where I shouldn't have because I was afraid to lose someone, about trying to resist change, about settling, about working too hard at times, about losing faith in myself, and, even more so, about losing faith that I'm going to be ok. I've never lost that faith before - no longer believing that I was going to be alright was the hardest part of all. For a while I was buried beneath the heavy, dark, suffocating impossibility of it all.
But I'm through it. There's been a shift and I feel as if I'm lit from inside again. I'm glowing. Last night I went down to the lake, lay on the rocks by the water and looked up through the crisp autumn air at the stars and I found myself whispering "I'm alive". It was delicious. A celebration of that absolute kicking, dancing, twirling joy at the very fact that I get to be alive in this body, in this reality, in this life when only a few weeks ago I wondered how I could possibly drag myself out of bed to face one more day (and on many days, I simply didn't).
It was hard having my stuff thrown in my face in such an abrupt manner and by someone I trusted not to hurt me, but would I have paid attention any other way? I'm not so sure. It it had been left up to me, I would never have ended things. But it wasn't up to me alone and so I've learned about acceptance - even for those things that I don't welcome - and I've learned things about myself that I never, ever would have opened myself up to if I hadn't been forced into it. I'm grateful. I wouldn't know what I wanted, what I was ready for, and what I'm capable of if without the last couple of months. I want to acknowledge that I was lucky to have had that relationship with that person with that terrible ending and with that broken heart. Very, very lucky. Without it I wouldn't know what I want and I wouldn't be prepared for what I get to go on to next. I wouldn't know that I'm an ox!
Now I know. Now I'm ready. Now I can say thank you.
Thank you.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
5 good things
->noticing for the first time that the mirrors attached to the fabric hanging across from my bed pick up the sun and reflect it back to me. I woke up this morning immersed in disco-ball light patterns
->my electric blanket, my electric space heater, my furry white blanket - all of which have followed me on my treck from room to room since August and will continue to do so until May
->saying good morning to Louie and his pack of friends in the coffee shop each morning
->beginning each morning in the dark, empty yoga studio - slightly scented with incense, lit only by candles - and emerging from my practice 2 hours later to realize the sun has risen, the room has filled and I'm lucky, lucky, lucky to begin my day this way
->my newly booked plane tickets that will spirit me down south in a few weeks to the ocean, the beach, and 80+ delicious, hot & humid degrees of weather
->my electric blanket, my electric space heater, my furry white blanket - all of which have followed me on my treck from room to room since August and will continue to do so until May
->saying good morning to Louie and his pack of friends in the coffee shop each morning
->beginning each morning in the dark, empty yoga studio - slightly scented with incense, lit only by candles - and emerging from my practice 2 hours later to realize the sun has risen, the room has filled and I'm lucky, lucky, lucky to begin my day this way
->my newly booked plane tickets that will spirit me down south in a few weeks to the ocean, the beach, and 80+ delicious, hot & humid degrees of weather
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
dodgy yoga neigbourhoods
This morning I headed to the shala earlier than usual. Really early. Still dark. Still quite cold. Cut through the ally and, in doing so, interrupted someone in the midst of enjoying their early morning crack hit.
On my way to nightclass (also in a shala) I picked up a prostitute. Unintentionally. I'd swerved over to the curb and jammed my brakes to come to a full stop. I guess it looked like I was stopping for no apparent reason other than to perhaps begin a little business but, really, I'd missed my turn and was waiting for traffic to clear so I could pull a u-turn. Surprised the hell of me when she leaned down to peer into my window - surprised the hell out of her when she saw a young (ok, young-ish ;) girl staring back.
Almost scored the sweetest parking spot outside of class but was beaten to it by a street person who guessed my intentions and raced in to take ownership with his shopping cart full of all his worldly belongings. Truthfully, there was room for both of us but he was having a raging argument with absolutely no one that I could see so I figured I'd leave him (them?) to it.
On my way back to my car after my class I passed through another ally and interrupted another person mid crack hit. This guy had company. They were arguing. I didn't stop to figure out about what.
Other than noticing the strange symmetry of my day ended just as it began, I noticed for the first time that my yoga studios seem to be located in dodgy parts of town.
Or maybe it's just Toronto.
On my way to nightclass (also in a shala) I picked up a prostitute. Unintentionally. I'd swerved over to the curb and jammed my brakes to come to a full stop. I guess it looked like I was stopping for no apparent reason other than to perhaps begin a little business but, really, I'd missed my turn and was waiting for traffic to clear so I could pull a u-turn. Surprised the hell of me when she leaned down to peer into my window - surprised the hell out of her when she saw a young (ok, young-ish ;) girl staring back.
Almost scored the sweetest parking spot outside of class but was beaten to it by a street person who guessed my intentions and raced in to take ownership with his shopping cart full of all his worldly belongings. Truthfully, there was room for both of us but he was having a raging argument with absolutely no one that I could see so I figured I'd leave him (them?) to it.
On my way back to my car after my class I passed through another ally and interrupted another person mid crack hit. This guy had company. They were arguing. I didn't stop to figure out about what.
Other than noticing the strange symmetry of my day ended just as it began, I noticed for the first time that my yoga studios seem to be located in dodgy parts of town.
Or maybe it's just Toronto.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
reclaiming myspace
Yesterday for the first time in what has been a busy few weeks, I had the entire day to myself. I spent it yoyo-ing from working to distract myself from thinking and thinking to distract myself from working. Clearly I didn't want to be doing either, so I took myself out for a long walk by the lake.
The afternoon sun changed quickly; at times shining bright to highlight the gorgeous red, gold and yellow fall colours and at others hiding behind heavy, dark storm clouds. My thoughts followed a similar pattern as I thought about the last few weeks and alternated between creating a mock list of how to breakup with someone (note: refusing to admit you're breaking up even as you hop on a plane to leave the continent or never saying goodbye are *not* on that list) and feeling blue about how things went down.
It's been three weeks since we last talked. Three weeks since the boy said he wanted a life together, three weeks since he talked about coming here in January, and three weeks since he took it all back, admitting that the idea scared him.
It's been three weeks since I put an end to the back and forth and left him my mobile number with the request not to call until/if he knew what he wanted. Three weeks since he refused to say goodbye and instead ended our phone call with a promise to call about January. It's been three weeks and he hasn't called.
As the days passed my sadness was accompanied by a growing realization that he wasn't even going to say goodbye, let alone call, let alone visit, and something began to shift. Maybe what hasn't been clear throughout these last few months is that I can handle a breakup, what I can't handle is this non-breakup. It took me a long time to clue in to the fact that I need to judge by action - not by words. And so after three weeks of non-action, I began to change. I began to think less about what he didn't want and more about what I wanted.
I do want that unique, wonderful person but I also want to be in love with someone who loves me back. I want to be with someone who is brave enough to speak the truth, even when it's painful. I want to be with someone who knows themself enough to take a chance and who trusts themself enough to know that they'll be just fine if they fail. I want to be with someone who includes me in their plans because they want me there, not because I remind them that I want to be there. And I want to be with someone who leaves me with no doubt that they love me. After three weeks I've begun to allow room for the possibility that those two things, wanting him and wanting the list that follows, may not be one and the same.
As I walked, I gave these thoughts space to settle in my mind and I thought about where I am right now: in Toronto, living in my old apartment, back at my old job. I began to feel anxious about whether I was moving backwards but it was less a real feeling than it was trying a feeling on for size to see if it fit. It didn't.
I'm not anxious and I haven't moved backwards. Things are a million times different than what they were at this time last year - and they're good. I think the anxiety came from knowing that they're good enough for now, but not for long. I thought about some of the things I'd been looking forward to this year: living in a different country, learning a new language, the challenge of establishing myself somewhere else, and beginning a life with my partner. With the exception of that last point, all of those are things I can control. I can still change countries, learn a new language, rise to the challenge of establishing myself somewhere else. And I will.
I began to think about my future, one that didn't include the boy, and I was sad but I also began to dream. I let my imagination get bigger than my sadness and I remembered that as different as today is from this time last year, next year will be different from this time today. I'm not anxious about where I am now, I'm enjoying it, and I'm beginning to understand this year for what it could be: a year to dream, search, explore and set the stage for future adventures. I realized that I'm exactly where I need to be, both the good and the bad, and then I turned to corner to find these words spray painted to the ground:
Yeah, I know it's an advertisement but what a perfect, wonderful, awesome moment to stumble upon an advertisement for a stupid website. I kept walking, making my way to the lake where I watched the sun set to my right
and the moon rise to my left
and for the for the first time in a long time I felt that myspace was truly not a bad space to be.
The afternoon sun changed quickly; at times shining bright to highlight the gorgeous red, gold and yellow fall colours and at others hiding behind heavy, dark storm clouds. My thoughts followed a similar pattern as I thought about the last few weeks and alternated between creating a mock list of how to breakup with someone (note: refusing to admit you're breaking up even as you hop on a plane to leave the continent or never saying goodbye are *not* on that list) and feeling blue about how things went down.
It's been three weeks since we last talked. Three weeks since the boy said he wanted a life together, three weeks since he talked about coming here in January, and three weeks since he took it all back, admitting that the idea scared him.
It's been three weeks since I put an end to the back and forth and left him my mobile number with the request not to call until/if he knew what he wanted. Three weeks since he refused to say goodbye and instead ended our phone call with a promise to call about January. It's been three weeks and he hasn't called.
As the days passed my sadness was accompanied by a growing realization that he wasn't even going to say goodbye, let alone call, let alone visit, and something began to shift. Maybe what hasn't been clear throughout these last few months is that I can handle a breakup, what I can't handle is this non-breakup. It took me a long time to clue in to the fact that I need to judge by action - not by words. And so after three weeks of non-action, I began to change. I began to think less about what he didn't want and more about what I wanted.
I do want that unique, wonderful person but I also want to be in love with someone who loves me back. I want to be with someone who is brave enough to speak the truth, even when it's painful. I want to be with someone who knows themself enough to take a chance and who trusts themself enough to know that they'll be just fine if they fail. I want to be with someone who includes me in their plans because they want me there, not because I remind them that I want to be there. And I want to be with someone who leaves me with no doubt that they love me. After three weeks I've begun to allow room for the possibility that those two things, wanting him and wanting the list that follows, may not be one and the same.
As I walked, I gave these thoughts space to settle in my mind and I thought about where I am right now: in Toronto, living in my old apartment, back at my old job. I began to feel anxious about whether I was moving backwards but it was less a real feeling than it was trying a feeling on for size to see if it fit. It didn't.
I'm not anxious and I haven't moved backwards. Things are a million times different than what they were at this time last year - and they're good. I think the anxiety came from knowing that they're good enough for now, but not for long. I thought about some of the things I'd been looking forward to this year: living in a different country, learning a new language, the challenge of establishing myself somewhere else, and beginning a life with my partner. With the exception of that last point, all of those are things I can control. I can still change countries, learn a new language, rise to the challenge of establishing myself somewhere else. And I will.
I began to think about my future, one that didn't include the boy, and I was sad but I also began to dream. I let my imagination get bigger than my sadness and I remembered that as different as today is from this time last year, next year will be different from this time today. I'm not anxious about where I am now, I'm enjoying it, and I'm beginning to understand this year for what it could be: a year to dream, search, explore and set the stage for future adventures. I realized that I'm exactly where I need to be, both the good and the bad, and then I turned to corner to find these words spray painted to the ground:
Yeah, I know it's an advertisement but what a perfect, wonderful, awesome moment to stumble upon an advertisement for a stupid website. I kept walking, making my way to the lake where I watched the sun set to my right
and the moon rise to my left
and for the for the first time in a long time I felt that myspace was truly not a bad space to be.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Autobiography in Five Chapters
A poem taken from 'The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying'
Autobiography in Five Chapters
I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost ... I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.
II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place
but, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in ... it's a habit.
my eyes are open
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
V
I walk down another street.
- Portia Nelson
Autobiography in Five Chapters
I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost ... I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.
II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place
but, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in ... it's a habit.
my eyes are open
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
V
I walk down another street.
- Portia Nelson
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
if you don't have anything nice to say...
Kind of quiet around these parts lately huh? I know. But I also know that listening to someone moan about their bruised heart loses its charm fairly quickly so I promised myself I wouldn't write another word about being sad or the breakup. At the same time, I couldn't stand the thought of pretending I'm fine and writing about fluffy things so I chose not to write at all because I'm still working on the fine part of things.
I know, I KNOW it's been ages and I should get over it already. Believe me. I'm working on it. It's been slow going. I have no framework for how to handle being on the receiving end of a break up and even less of an idea on how to do it with someone who talks about love and a life together in one breath but then retreats with the next. It was so lovely to believe the first breath that it took me a few weeks to realize that there even was a second breath - that there was only talk with no action. I get it now. It sucks. I'm sad.
The boy stuff aside, life is actually really wonderful right now. It's just that in the middle of all those wonderful moments are the moments when someone asks me how I am, or asks about the boy, or when I think of something I'd like to tell him and realize that I can't. We don't talk anymore. Those moments happen a lot too. And when they come, they take my breath clean away and knock me on my ass with the force of how sad I still am about it all. They make me feel like I'm not centred and calm or grounded at all and they make me question whether this dream life I live is really so dreamy, whether I can ever get over the missing pieces.
People tell me it's better this way, that if someone really wanted to be with me they might try to be in the same country as me (heh), and friends are trying to send me off on dates with friends. Yeah. I totally get it. But I've never dated anyone just because I was single. I date because I met someone fantastic. Its hard to get over that my fantastic someone looked at the same relationship I was looking at and, instead of seeing it as something great, something to hold on to, he decided he could do without it and walked away.
I have been waiting for that phone call that takes it all back and getting sadder as each day passes without it. Still, at the same as I'm hopeful I'm not a total idiot. I know it's time to move on. We tried (or at least one of us did - ahem), it didn't work out, and I can't wish the whole situation away (tried that ;) so, it's time to really let go. I expect that I'll feel sadder for a bit longer while I release my grip on things working out but soon enough my sadness will bottom out and I'll have nowhere to go but happy.
In the meantime, no writing about fluff but no more writing about bruised hearts either. Instead, some pictures to fill the time while we wait for the bottom to fall out. Like this one from my thanksgiving hike
Or this one of the cute dog on the subway last weekend
Or this one of Mannix and his forbidden love
Or this random downtown picture
Or this self-portrait of a blurry me taken the day I bought my camera
I know, I KNOW it's been ages and I should get over it already. Believe me. I'm working on it. It's been slow going. I have no framework for how to handle being on the receiving end of a break up and even less of an idea on how to do it with someone who talks about love and a life together in one breath but then retreats with the next. It was so lovely to believe the first breath that it took me a few weeks to realize that there even was a second breath - that there was only talk with no action. I get it now. It sucks. I'm sad.
The boy stuff aside, life is actually really wonderful right now. It's just that in the middle of all those wonderful moments are the moments when someone asks me how I am, or asks about the boy, or when I think of something I'd like to tell him and realize that I can't. We don't talk anymore. Those moments happen a lot too. And when they come, they take my breath clean away and knock me on my ass with the force of how sad I still am about it all. They make me feel like I'm not centred and calm or grounded at all and they make me question whether this dream life I live is really so dreamy, whether I can ever get over the missing pieces.
People tell me it's better this way, that if someone really wanted to be with me they might try to be in the same country as me (heh), and friends are trying to send me off on dates with friends. Yeah. I totally get it. But I've never dated anyone just because I was single. I date because I met someone fantastic. Its hard to get over that my fantastic someone looked at the same relationship I was looking at and, instead of seeing it as something great, something to hold on to, he decided he could do without it and walked away.
I have been waiting for that phone call that takes it all back and getting sadder as each day passes without it. Still, at the same as I'm hopeful I'm not a total idiot. I know it's time to move on. We tried (or at least one of us did - ahem), it didn't work out, and I can't wish the whole situation away (tried that ;) so, it's time to really let go. I expect that I'll feel sadder for a bit longer while I release my grip on things working out but soon enough my sadness will bottom out and I'll have nowhere to go but happy.
In the meantime, no writing about fluff but no more writing about bruised hearts either. Instead, some pictures to fill the time while we wait for the bottom to fall out. Like this one from my thanksgiving hike
Or this one of the cute dog on the subway last weekend
Or this one of Mannix and his forbidden love
Or this random downtown picture
Or this self-portrait of a blurry me taken the day I bought my camera
Monday, October 8, 2007
last, perfect kayak trip of the season
chevy didn't come kayaking but she's just too cute to exclude
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
tuesday
First ayurvedic class tonight. 7pm - the golden hour. The sun sinks slowly behind old Victorian houses, the sky is gold and the trees glow. The Instructor talks his tales of beauty, his words turn my world on its ear. It is soul-ful to be this in love with ideas again. To fall in love with life all over again.
Behind him the window opens to the early autumn evening framing the stage for the squirrels who leap, twirl, and soar through the trees in a joyful dance. They act how I feel. Happy. Happy. Happy.
Behind him the window opens to the early autumn evening framing the stage for the squirrels who leap, twirl, and soar through the trees in a joyful dance. They act how I feel. Happy. Happy. Happy.
Monday, September 17, 2007
just a usual monday morning
Walking to the shala in the early morning light; stars still visible, streetlights glowing softly, I almost missed it. Almost walked right by without even noticing. But then I passed a picture so large and blatant - it was impossible to miss.
Someone had torn the pages from a porn magazine and carefully placed them, one at a time, under the windshield wiper of every single car parked along Queen Street. I walked to the shala accompanied by the sight of large, naked, juicy bottoms - and other assorted bits - greeting me every few feet.
Dozens and dozens of cars. You have to admire that kind of dedication.
Love it.
Someone had torn the pages from a porn magazine and carefully placed them, one at a time, under the windshield wiper of every single car parked along Queen Street. I walked to the shala accompanied by the sight of large, naked, juicy bottoms - and other assorted bits - greeting me every few feet.
Dozens and dozens of cars. You have to admire that kind of dedication.
Love it.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
sigh
Drove downtown to meet up with friends tonight. Parked on a side street where I didn't bother buying a parking ticket since it was 8.57pm and parking is free after 9.00pm - I figured the odds on getting a parking ticket in the three minutes before parking became free were slim to nonexistent.
Yeah. I know. If you live in Toronto you're rolling your eyes and thinking I'm an idiot. You're right.
Sure enough, when I returned to my car I found a bright yellow parking ticket time stamped 8.59pm waiting for me. Someone out there can sleep at night knowing that they issued a $30.00 ticket just one minute before parking became free? That's $10.00 a minute!
I guess everyone has to earn a living somehow.
Sigh.
Yeah. I know. If you live in Toronto you're rolling your eyes and thinking I'm an idiot. You're right.
Sure enough, when I returned to my car I found a bright yellow parking ticket time stamped 8.59pm waiting for me. Someone out there can sleep at night knowing that they issued a $30.00 ticket just one minute before parking became free? That's $10.00 a minute!
I guess everyone has to earn a living somehow.
Sigh.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
stuff
Today I had free time before my assisting shift so I wandered in and out of some stores trying things on. One saleslady, who had been very helpful, said something to me on my way out the door. While my first instinct was to assume I'd heard her incorrectly, the strange way she scrunched her face and waved her hands with such flourish made me think that she just might have said what I thought she said. Still, I asked her to repeat it. I was right.
"Be a DIVA" she whispered, emphasis on the "DIVA", with the same scrunched face and madly waving hands. Right. Me. A diva. Good call.
I much preferred the way the baby in the stroller, who passed by my car just as I unlocked the doors, chanted "on" "off" "on" as the lights blinked on and off. Cute.
Other sounds from this September day:
-my co-workers telling me to "have a good weekend". On a Wednesday. Hee, my first 4 day weekend :)
-my knees, hips, elbows cracking every time I moved to adjust someone in yoga tonight. Not sure that's the best promo for a committed yoga practice
-'Smokin' in the Boysroom' by Motley Crue on the radio. Just so you know, I never, not once, thought Motley Crue was cool even when they sort of were
-the song of crickets drowning out the sound of traffic as I sat by the lake tonight looking at the water. Calm. So calm.
Not heard but remembered: you used to reach over and hold my hand during savasana. That was nice.
"Be a DIVA" she whispered, emphasis on the "DIVA", with the same scrunched face and madly waving hands. Right. Me. A diva. Good call.
I much preferred the way the baby in the stroller, who passed by my car just as I unlocked the doors, chanted "on" "off" "on" as the lights blinked on and off. Cute.
Other sounds from this September day:
-my co-workers telling me to "have a good weekend". On a Wednesday. Hee, my first 4 day weekend :)
-my knees, hips, elbows cracking every time I moved to adjust someone in yoga tonight. Not sure that's the best promo for a committed yoga practice
-'Smokin' in the Boysroom' by Motley Crue on the radio. Just so you know, I never, not once, thought Motley Crue was cool even when they sort of were
-the song of crickets drowning out the sound of traffic as I sat by the lake tonight looking at the water. Calm. So calm.
Not heard but remembered: you used to reach over and hold my hand during savasana. That was nice.
Monday, September 3, 2007
because
Did you ever wonder why I waited until after we ended to dye my hair? It must have seemed strange. Through all of the months of your "wondering" how I would look with red hair I did nothing and yet the week after you left I emerged a redhead. Ever wonder why?
It's because I always wanted red hair. What I didn't want was the feeling that I'd be better if I were different, that I wasn't good enough as is. That's it. Simple. I wanted to be ok whether I was a styled redhead or a style-challenged blond. What do those things matter anyway? They're just part of the shell. There were things I would have changed about you, you know, you weren't perfect for me. But those small, stupid things - who cares? I wonder what I was doing committing myself to someone who wanted me to be different.
I learned a lot and it definitely bears noting that not all lessons were of the painful kind. So many wonderful things. I learned that I can share my space with someone in a way that is seamless and really like it, I learned that it's great going to bed and waking up laughing with someone, I learned that I can love, I learned that I can commit, and I learned lots of dirty words that no English speaker will ever recognize.
But I do think about that a lot, why I thought it was ok to be with someone who wanted me to change.
It's because I always wanted red hair. What I didn't want was the feeling that I'd be better if I were different, that I wasn't good enough as is. That's it. Simple. I wanted to be ok whether I was a styled redhead or a style-challenged blond. What do those things matter anyway? They're just part of the shell. There were things I would have changed about you, you know, you weren't perfect for me. But those small, stupid things - who cares? I wonder what I was doing committing myself to someone who wanted me to be different.
I learned a lot and it definitely bears noting that not all lessons were of the painful kind. So many wonderful things. I learned that I can share my space with someone in a way that is seamless and really like it, I learned that it's great going to bed and waking up laughing with someone, I learned that I can love, I learned that I can commit, and I learned lots of dirty words that no English speaker will ever recognize.
But I do think about that a lot, why I thought it was ok to be with someone who wanted me to change.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
blessings
Last week I assisted a yoga class for the first of what is now my regular weekly shift. People filed out of the room thanking me for my help as I stayed behind talking with the teacher and a few other students before grabbing my bike helmet and heading outside for what would be a long, meandering ride home in the gorgeous evening air. The whole time I struggled with the sneaking feeling of being lucky. Incredibly, blessedly lucky.
Life has thrown surprises my way, as it does. There are a few things that, although they hold the most personal meaning, haven't yet found their place in my life as I assumed they would but, in many respects, I'm living the life I always wanted.
I'm pretty sure that a couple of years ago I looked at the assistants, wondered how they got the position, wondered if I'd ever be able to drop into Marichasana C with ease, wished I could be more a part of the yoga community, and even wished I had a bike to ride home. I'm pretty sure I thought those things and last week as I was biking home I couldn't ignore the feeling that I am incredibly lucky because I'm living that life.
I almost wrote about it. I penned the entry in my mind, toyed with how I would explain the experience but then deliberately chose not to. I've been so attached to being sad and so focused on what is missing that I consciously chose not to write about what was right. It's as if I carry the idea that admitting happiness negates my sadness. That acknowledging the parts of my life that are exactly as I want them to be takes away from my disappointment over what is not. And I'm not willing to go let go of my sadness yet - it feels so very real.
So I chose not to write. But then it happened again tonight. The same blessed feeling, and it seems childish not to acknowledge what is going well simply because of my attachment to what is missing. I'm both. I'm living the life I always wanted and I'm sad over those absent pieces.
It's a new thought for me - that I can be both - and it's confusing. It's confusing to grieve the end of something but, at the same time, be able to find a place of contentment and it's confusing to mourn the loss of a life I was so excited about but, at the same time, find happiness in the life I have. Just this morning I wrote about my longing for what is lost and now I'm writing about living the life I always wanted? Which is real? Am I crying or am I calm? Am I in the depths of despair or am I hopeful? Am I lost or am I found?
I feel like I have to choose one or the other. I am sad, disappointed, and a bit lost at the moment but I've let it overshadow all other aspects of my life. I don't like endings, particularly those I didn't think I wanted, and the sadness that accompanies this ending may stay with me for a very long time - but I'm also content with what is.
It is possible to be both. As the days go by I find myself increasingly willing and able to make room for happiness. Life is good, even when it's not.
Life has thrown surprises my way, as it does. There are a few things that, although they hold the most personal meaning, haven't yet found their place in my life as I assumed they would but, in many respects, I'm living the life I always wanted.
I'm pretty sure that a couple of years ago I looked at the assistants, wondered how they got the position, wondered if I'd ever be able to drop into Marichasana C with ease, wished I could be more a part of the yoga community, and even wished I had a bike to ride home. I'm pretty sure I thought those things and last week as I was biking home I couldn't ignore the feeling that I am incredibly lucky because I'm living that life.
I almost wrote about it. I penned the entry in my mind, toyed with how I would explain the experience but then deliberately chose not to. I've been so attached to being sad and so focused on what is missing that I consciously chose not to write about what was right. It's as if I carry the idea that admitting happiness negates my sadness. That acknowledging the parts of my life that are exactly as I want them to be takes away from my disappointment over what is not. And I'm not willing to go let go of my sadness yet - it feels so very real.
So I chose not to write. But then it happened again tonight. The same blessed feeling, and it seems childish not to acknowledge what is going well simply because of my attachment to what is missing. I'm both. I'm living the life I always wanted and I'm sad over those absent pieces.
It's a new thought for me - that I can be both - and it's confusing. It's confusing to grieve the end of something but, at the same time, be able to find a place of contentment and it's confusing to mourn the loss of a life I was so excited about but, at the same time, find happiness in the life I have. Just this morning I wrote about my longing for what is lost and now I'm writing about living the life I always wanted? Which is real? Am I crying or am I calm? Am I in the depths of despair or am I hopeful? Am I lost or am I found?
I feel like I have to choose one or the other. I am sad, disappointed, and a bit lost at the moment but I've let it overshadow all other aspects of my life. I don't like endings, particularly those I didn't think I wanted, and the sadness that accompanies this ending may stay with me for a very long time - but I'm also content with what is.
It is possible to be both. As the days go by I find myself increasingly willing and able to make room for happiness. Life is good, even when it's not.
attachments and figments of my imagination
This morning I added a few extra poses to my practice for no real reason other than that they felt good. As I lay back, enjoying the stretch, I thought about how this would never have been permitted in my old shala. I miss practicing there. Miss the discipline coupled with a deep respect for tradition.
After explaining, for the 800th time, that I have two torn hamstrings and wasn't going deeper into the pose deliberately, I thought about the Helsinki shala where I only had to tell one person, once, that I was working with an injury before all of the teachers knew. I miss the warm, yellow room with its creaking floor, community, and the sound of ujayii breathing enveloping me.
I thought about why I was in Helsinki in the first place and stopped my practice for a minute, surprised by a longing for everything to be like it used to be. Just go back to the way it was.
People keep saying that I sound good. Better. I don't know what to say in return. I'm not sick, not recovering from the flu. I've just been feeling sad. I've also been feeling happy, light, depressed, relieved, angry, wry, cynical, optimistic, and excited - often all in the space of just half an hour. Probably not so different from each of you, albeit each for our own reasons. While sadness and confusion do lurk beneath the surface waiting to rear their heads, I know they'll fade with time, they already are. This is a time of transition and transitions are hard on me.
Breaking up is a transition, redefining what we are to each other is a transition, and the loss of what I thought my life in the immediate future would be like is a transition. I was really excited to live in a new city. To struggle with a new language and see how it would feel to make the foreign familiar. I was excited about that. Now I'm in Toronto returning to my old job and that's exciting too for entirely different reasons, I'm just surprised. And confused. It's like someone took the gameboard of my life, changed the pieces around and plunked me back down in the centre to scramble while I process changes I didn't ask for in the first place.
This morning I just wanted things to be what they used to be. Back in the old shala practicing mysore in the company of the yoga girls, a flight booked to colder climates, and fanciful dreams of a perfect, easy yogi life with my best friend dancing in my head. I longed for things to go back, oh, six months. Maybe seven.
But six or seven months ago the shala was oppressive and downright mean, the future of colder climates already uncertain, and the dreams I had of a perfect yogi life were mine alone - what good are dreams for two when they belong to only one? Six or seven months ago things weren't what I remember them as being. I know that. I know I'm attached to something that is a figment of my imagination, but I kind of wish I could just go back anyway.
I think the hardest part of this transition is learning to be honest with myself about what really was and what I imagined into being.
After explaining, for the 800th time, that I have two torn hamstrings and wasn't going deeper into the pose deliberately, I thought about the Helsinki shala where I only had to tell one person, once, that I was working with an injury before all of the teachers knew. I miss the warm, yellow room with its creaking floor, community, and the sound of ujayii breathing enveloping me.
I thought about why I was in Helsinki in the first place and stopped my practice for a minute, surprised by a longing for everything to be like it used to be. Just go back to the way it was.
People keep saying that I sound good. Better. I don't know what to say in return. I'm not sick, not recovering from the flu. I've just been feeling sad. I've also been feeling happy, light, depressed, relieved, angry, wry, cynical, optimistic, and excited - often all in the space of just half an hour. Probably not so different from each of you, albeit each for our own reasons. While sadness and confusion do lurk beneath the surface waiting to rear their heads, I know they'll fade with time, they already are. This is a time of transition and transitions are hard on me.
Breaking up is a transition, redefining what we are to each other is a transition, and the loss of what I thought my life in the immediate future would be like is a transition. I was really excited to live in a new city. To struggle with a new language and see how it would feel to make the foreign familiar. I was excited about that. Now I'm in Toronto returning to my old job and that's exciting too for entirely different reasons, I'm just surprised. And confused. It's like someone took the gameboard of my life, changed the pieces around and plunked me back down in the centre to scramble while I process changes I didn't ask for in the first place.
This morning I just wanted things to be what they used to be. Back in the old shala practicing mysore in the company of the yoga girls, a flight booked to colder climates, and fanciful dreams of a perfect, easy yogi life with my best friend dancing in my head. I longed for things to go back, oh, six months. Maybe seven.
But six or seven months ago the shala was oppressive and downright mean, the future of colder climates already uncertain, and the dreams I had of a perfect yogi life were mine alone - what good are dreams for two when they belong to only one? Six or seven months ago things weren't what I remember them as being. I know that. I know I'm attached to something that is a figment of my imagination, but I kind of wish I could just go back anyway.
I think the hardest part of this transition is learning to be honest with myself about what really was and what I imagined into being.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
meh
What do you get when you pair a cold, rainy day with a bored human, a cranky cat, and a borrowed digital camera? Well, seeing as all I wanted was a picture of the cat and I together, the answer could have been fairly simple but, this being me and all, it was anything but.
I don't get it. Given that the cat's preferred activity 99% of the time is standing on my chest, nose pressed to mine while meowing incessantly, a happy cat-human portrait shouldn't have been too challenging. Instead, I got this
and this
and this
I wouldn't exactly call it fun but it was most definitely fuuunny. With all the meowing and flying fur, you would have thought I was making him eat the camera, not sit for it.
I'm not bored anymore but he's super pissed. See the second picture? His red eyes? That has nothing to do with the camera, it's because he really IS that evil.
Meh.
I don't get it. Given that the cat's preferred activity 99% of the time is standing on my chest, nose pressed to mine while meowing incessantly, a happy cat-human portrait shouldn't have been too challenging. Instead, I got this
and this
and this
I wouldn't exactly call it fun but it was most definitely fuuunny. With all the meowing and flying fur, you would have thought I was making him eat the camera, not sit for it.
I'm not bored anymore but he's super pissed. See the second picture? His red eyes? That has nothing to do with the camera, it's because he really IS that evil.
Meh.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
quotes
This morning's paper carried an article about Richard Bradshaw, the former General Director of the Canadian Opera Company who passed on last week. I've had a mini-crush on him since 1995 when I discovered him at the outdoor opera series held at the Harbourfront each August.
I'd just returned from my first overseas trip and was experiencing the kind of world weary despair best experienced by 20-somethings freshly returned from their first European adventure. I was stuck in the backwaters of North America, alienated from my friends who'd managed just fine in my six month absence, and depressed by the fact that nothing had changed. Well, nothing except for my knowledge that EVERYTHING was SO much better in Europe. Grasping for something 'cultural' to do, I read about the outdoor opera series, got dressed in my favourite, purchased-in-Barcelona dress and headed downtown.
It was lovely. Richard Bradshaw was charming and witty and made me enjoy opera. He also, with each wave of his conductor's baton, helped me fall back in love with Toronto. I've had a soft spot for him ever since. I'm sorry to hear that he's passed on. The article quoted him as saying: "The only irresponsible option in art is to avoid taking risks". Love that. And don't think the sentiment is limited to art, I think it transfers every bit as well to life.
In the same newspaper I read another quote which I've heard in varying terms for years without ever knowing that the original source was Mark Twain:
"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bow lines, sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
This quote is one of the truths I return to when I'm trying to make a decision - will I regret NOT having done this in 20 years? If the answer is 'Yes', I do it. If the answer is 'I don't know' I give it time. 'I don't know' usually has fear beneath it - fear of the outcomes, the fall out, making a mistake - and fear has a short life span. If I give it time, the answer comes.
Which leads me to the last 2 years. I took the biggest risk I'd ever taken. I fell in love. Maybe not a big deal to some but for me it would have been far less terrifying to do just about anything else. Falling in love was hard. And it didn't have the fairytale ending I was so sure it should have had. And I'm so, horribly, all-encompassing sad about that. Not depressed, not unhappy, just sad. The kind of sadness I didn't realize it was possible to contain in one body. The kind of sadness that I didn't know could co-exist with happiness, excitement, laughter, release and a sense of freedom - because I'm those things too, there's just a sense of sadness lurking beneath it all. I don't want this. I'm not quite sure how I am containing it. But I am.
I am and I have no regrets. In 20 years I'm not going to have to wonder what would have happened if I'd tried harder. I'm not going to have to wonder what would have happened if I'd gotten on that plane to Finland. I'm not going to have to wonder why I let my fears get in the way of what could have been a beautiful partnership. So yeah, I'm sad and I don't wish for this ending - but I don't have to wonder and I'll never have to regret what I didn't do.
I'm also clearer. Clearer that there is no "but" to real love and understanding that soon I'll stop hoping this isn't really happening and just accept that it happened. I'll be sad until sadness runs it's course and I embrace what life has in store for me next. Through it all, I'll never have to wonder "What if...". There is no what if. I didn't let fear rule my choices.
Which leads me to my last quote of the day, this one from Eleanor Roosevelt:
"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this. I can take the next thing that comes along'. You must do the thing you think you cannot do".
I'd just returned from my first overseas trip and was experiencing the kind of world weary despair best experienced by 20-somethings freshly returned from their first European adventure. I was stuck in the backwaters of North America, alienated from my friends who'd managed just fine in my six month absence, and depressed by the fact that nothing had changed. Well, nothing except for my knowledge that EVERYTHING was SO much better in Europe. Grasping for something 'cultural' to do, I read about the outdoor opera series, got dressed in my favourite, purchased-in-Barcelona dress and headed downtown.
It was lovely. Richard Bradshaw was charming and witty and made me enjoy opera. He also, with each wave of his conductor's baton, helped me fall back in love with Toronto. I've had a soft spot for him ever since. I'm sorry to hear that he's passed on. The article quoted him as saying: "The only irresponsible option in art is to avoid taking risks". Love that. And don't think the sentiment is limited to art, I think it transfers every bit as well to life.
In the same newspaper I read another quote which I've heard in varying terms for years without ever knowing that the original source was Mark Twain:
"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bow lines, sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
This quote is one of the truths I return to when I'm trying to make a decision - will I regret NOT having done this in 20 years? If the answer is 'Yes', I do it. If the answer is 'I don't know' I give it time. 'I don't know' usually has fear beneath it - fear of the outcomes, the fall out, making a mistake - and fear has a short life span. If I give it time, the answer comes.
Which leads me to the last 2 years. I took the biggest risk I'd ever taken. I fell in love. Maybe not a big deal to some but for me it would have been far less terrifying to do just about anything else. Falling in love was hard. And it didn't have the fairytale ending I was so sure it should have had. And I'm so, horribly, all-encompassing sad about that. Not depressed, not unhappy, just sad. The kind of sadness I didn't realize it was possible to contain in one body. The kind of sadness that I didn't know could co-exist with happiness, excitement, laughter, release and a sense of freedom - because I'm those things too, there's just a sense of sadness lurking beneath it all. I don't want this. I'm not quite sure how I am containing it. But I am.
I am and I have no regrets. In 20 years I'm not going to have to wonder what would have happened if I'd tried harder. I'm not going to have to wonder what would have happened if I'd gotten on that plane to Finland. I'm not going to have to wonder why I let my fears get in the way of what could have been a beautiful partnership. So yeah, I'm sad and I don't wish for this ending - but I don't have to wonder and I'll never have to regret what I didn't do.
I'm also clearer. Clearer that there is no "but" to real love and understanding that soon I'll stop hoping this isn't really happening and just accept that it happened. I'll be sad until sadness runs it's course and I embrace what life has in store for me next. Through it all, I'll never have to wonder "What if...". There is no what if. I didn't let fear rule my choices.
Which leads me to my last quote of the day, this one from Eleanor Roosevelt:
"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this. I can take the next thing that comes along'. You must do the thing you think you cannot do".
Friday, August 17, 2007
philosophy girl
I was really hoping to write this morning. Was hoping that the act of putting pen to paper would help me clarify this mood. This feeling that something is missing - that I'm missing something. Not a person, a...something. A lesson? A sign? An opportunity? I don't know. I kind of like this foggy, daydreaming feeling but I'd also hoped that the feeling of my pen scratching through the pages of my journal would part the cobwebs of my mind and help me see the missing something.
But I can't write.
I'm in my favourite coffee shop with the awesome coffee, free wireless, funky music and wide open doors as opposed to the dreaded air conditioning. Usually its a refuge. Usually I sit, wrapped in the fuzzy arms of the blue armchair in the corner with my legs tucked under me, and I daydream, or write, or read undisturbed for hours. Today it's different.
Today I'm sitting across from philosophy girl. Philosophy girl really wants to be noticed. She really wants us to know that she's immensely hung over from the bottle of wine she had for dinner last night. She really wants us to know that it 'ruins' her life that there's no wine store in her neighbourhood. And she really, REALLY wants us to know that she's working on her PhD in philosophy.
She rattles on about paradigms, about how the "difference between here and there is time", about "we're living in the 'ought' - who decides what 'ought' is?". I remember that feeling. Of being in my early 20's, of being exposed to new ideas, of how exciting it was and how I really thought that I was the first one ever to hear these things, to think these things. I was insufferable too. So listening to this woman would be endearing if it were'nt so freaking annoying.
I would stop listening but she projects so much, it's difficult to. Instead, I'm listening. And mocking. Yes, very enlightened of me. But if you were here, you'd understand how difficult it is to resist the urge to mock.
Her favourite topic this morning is how if someone can't explain their philosophy or their thesis to the 'average' person of 'average' intelligence, then they don't really understand their philosophy themselves. She lectures at length on the idea, however, when her companion manages to get a word in edgewise to ask her about her thesis she retreats quickly with mumbled comments about it being 'complicated' to explain and loud complaints about red wine and how hung over she is.
Ok. I take it back. It is kind of endearing. Cute, earnest, seeking little philosophy girl.
But I can't write.
I'm in my favourite coffee shop with the awesome coffee, free wireless, funky music and wide open doors as opposed to the dreaded air conditioning. Usually its a refuge. Usually I sit, wrapped in the fuzzy arms of the blue armchair in the corner with my legs tucked under me, and I daydream, or write, or read undisturbed for hours. Today it's different.
Today I'm sitting across from philosophy girl. Philosophy girl really wants to be noticed. She really wants us to know that she's immensely hung over from the bottle of wine she had for dinner last night. She really wants us to know that it 'ruins' her life that there's no wine store in her neighbourhood. And she really, REALLY wants us to know that she's working on her PhD in philosophy.
She rattles on about paradigms, about how the "difference between here and there is time", about "we're living in the 'ought' - who decides what 'ought' is?". I remember that feeling. Of being in my early 20's, of being exposed to new ideas, of how exciting it was and how I really thought that I was the first one ever to hear these things, to think these things. I was insufferable too. So listening to this woman would be endearing if it were'nt so freaking annoying.
I would stop listening but she projects so much, it's difficult to. Instead, I'm listening. And mocking. Yes, very enlightened of me. But if you were here, you'd understand how difficult it is to resist the urge to mock.
Her favourite topic this morning is how if someone can't explain their philosophy or their thesis to the 'average' person of 'average' intelligence, then they don't really understand their philosophy themselves. She lectures at length on the idea, however, when her companion manages to get a word in edgewise to ask her about her thesis she retreats quickly with mumbled comments about it being 'complicated' to explain and loud complaints about red wine and how hung over she is.
Ok. I take it back. It is kind of endearing. Cute, earnest, seeking little philosophy girl.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
most inappropriate inspirational quote ever
This was forwarded to me today by someone who, for reasons I'm afraid to put too much thought into (you'll understand when you read the quote), thought of me when they read it:
"The faint of heart never get to screw a wildcat. Go out and live, do things that you are afraid of, and then let go of the outcome".
Let the record show that I have never, not once, even contemplated screwing a wildcat.
"The faint of heart never get to screw a wildcat. Go out and live, do things that you are afraid of, and then let go of the outcome".
Let the record show that I have never, not once, even contemplated screwing a wildcat.
Back from a few days of silence and solitude at the cottage where I divided my time between wading in the creek and sitting in 'my' tree out back. What could be more magical than sitting in the calm, wise, enduring embrace of a tree? That a small creek bubbles merrily along just below where I like to sit makes it that much better. It was nice.
It was particularly nice because the morning before I left my mind was full of all kinds of happiness, anger, curiosity, mischief, sadness, quiet, noise, calm and hyperactivity all in the space of seconds. One feeling being replaced by another before I could even register the first. The monkey mind was active.
As I practiced this morning I was thinking about what a difference a month makes. I started thinking about it because I was so. very. tired. The teacher training intensive in July didn't allot time for a personal practice and, although my practice grew in many ways during that month, my stamina for a vinyasa practice is gone. So. This morning as I dragged my sopping, exhausted, winded self through the last quarter of my practice I thought about what a difference that month has made to my stamina.
Then I started thinking about all the other things that have changed in the span of four short weeks. This time last month I had only just returned home, was still in teacher training, still in a relationship, still had a tourist staying with me, was still unemployed, still planning to leave Toronto, still had blond-ish hair, had never assisted anyone in a yoga class, and didn't even know that a lovely cottage lay in my future. This month, of course, none of the above holds true. And next month? Who knows.
By this time in September I'll have already returned to work and I'll have a new tourist staying with me but the rest of it? No idea. Some ideas. Lots of excitement. But no real, make a plan idea. Think I'm finally settling into the fact that this is the way I like it best.
It was particularly nice because the morning before I left my mind was full of all kinds of happiness, anger, curiosity, mischief, sadness, quiet, noise, calm and hyperactivity all in the space of seconds. One feeling being replaced by another before I could even register the first. The monkey mind was active.
As I practiced this morning I was thinking about what a difference a month makes. I started thinking about it because I was so. very. tired. The teacher training intensive in July didn't allot time for a personal practice and, although my practice grew in many ways during that month, my stamina for a vinyasa practice is gone. So. This morning as I dragged my sopping, exhausted, winded self through the last quarter of my practice I thought about what a difference that month has made to my stamina.
Then I started thinking about all the other things that have changed in the span of four short weeks. This time last month I had only just returned home, was still in teacher training, still in a relationship, still had a tourist staying with me, was still unemployed, still planning to leave Toronto, still had blond-ish hair, had never assisted anyone in a yoga class, and didn't even know that a lovely cottage lay in my future. This month, of course, none of the above holds true. And next month? Who knows.
By this time in September I'll have already returned to work and I'll have a new tourist staying with me but the rest of it? No idea. Some ideas. Lots of excitement. But no real, make a plan idea. Think I'm finally settling into the fact that this is the way I like it best.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
stupid mouse man
Sound the alarms, someone in the building has seen a mouse. My landlord lives for emergencies such as these. He brought a pest control team through today, less than 24 hours after the enemy sighting.
I spent the morning at home wanting to be here when they came through; in part to make sure my landlord didn't nose around too much and in part to gloat that there have been no mouse sightings in my apartment thanks to my lovely kitty-cat roommate. That last bit was particularly important as the cat has been a bone of contention with my landlord since day one. The snide comments and references to evicting me were only silenced when I forwarded section 10.4 of the landlord tenant act which states that you cannot evict a tenant for having a companion pet such as a cat or dog. Needless to say, I was happy to be present to wave my mouse-free flag and point out the benefits of having a four legged roommate.
Then the stupid mouse man came and pointed his flashlight under my sink to point out mouse droppings before swinging the flashlight to the bowl of nearby cat food and stating that mice like cat food. My landlord followed him around the apartment repeating that over and over - "So, they like the cat food huh? Isn't that interesting." No. It's not interesting. And it sounds highly unlikely. A mouse is going to scrabble it's way over the edges of a smooth porcelain bowl to immerse itself in food enjoyed by one of its predators? I don't believe it.
The damage done, the stupid mouse man left behind a couple of poison-filled boxes and assurances that the mice won't die in the house, they'll eat the poison and leave the house in search of water to die a slow agonizing death outside.
I threw the poison boxes away after they left. Shhhh...don't tell anyone....
How could you not love this face?
I spent the morning at home wanting to be here when they came through; in part to make sure my landlord didn't nose around too much and in part to gloat that there have been no mouse sightings in my apartment thanks to my lovely kitty-cat roommate. That last bit was particularly important as the cat has been a bone of contention with my landlord since day one. The snide comments and references to evicting me were only silenced when I forwarded section 10.4 of the landlord tenant act which states that you cannot evict a tenant for having a companion pet such as a cat or dog. Needless to say, I was happy to be present to wave my mouse-free flag and point out the benefits of having a four legged roommate.
Then the stupid mouse man came and pointed his flashlight under my sink to point out mouse droppings before swinging the flashlight to the bowl of nearby cat food and stating that mice like cat food. My landlord followed him around the apartment repeating that over and over - "So, they like the cat food huh? Isn't that interesting." No. It's not interesting. And it sounds highly unlikely. A mouse is going to scrabble it's way over the edges of a smooth porcelain bowl to immerse itself in food enjoyed by one of its predators? I don't believe it.
The damage done, the stupid mouse man left behind a couple of poison-filled boxes and assurances that the mice won't die in the house, they'll eat the poison and leave the house in search of water to die a slow agonizing death outside.
I threw the poison boxes away after they left. Shhhh...don't tell anyone....
How could you not love this face?
nothing and something
People keep asking me what I'm going to do in September. When I share that I've agreed to return to my old position on a part-time basis, the next question is what I'm going to do with the other days. I don't know.
No idea. Zip. Zero. Nothing.
I'm the only one from my yoga teacher training program who hasn't already sought out teaching opportunities. Partly because I don't feel ready to lead a class yet and partly because I don't want to. While I don't exactly know what I want to do with my free days this fall, I do know that they involve doing a whole lot of nothing. I also know that it will all make sense in hindsight. There's something in store.
This weekend I assisted my first yoga class. It was a sunset class held in the beaches and it was perfect. I parked my car just off the highway and rollerbladed to the outdoor pavilion where the class was held. Mats were arranged to face the lake, small candles were placed here and there. Practice took place with the magic of the lake in front of us, the sound of people enjoying the summer evening around us and the beauty of the sunset above us. After the practice people stopped to say thank you which surprised and humbled me. I should have thanked them.
After practice I rollerbladed in the darkness back to my car stopping several times to look at the stars, stare the the lake, and check out the recent creations of 'rock balancing guy'. It was perfect.
No idea. Zip. Zero. Nothing.
I'm the only one from my yoga teacher training program who hasn't already sought out teaching opportunities. Partly because I don't feel ready to lead a class yet and partly because I don't want to. While I don't exactly know what I want to do with my free days this fall, I do know that they involve doing a whole lot of nothing. I also know that it will all make sense in hindsight. There's something in store.
This weekend I assisted my first yoga class. It was a sunset class held in the beaches and it was perfect. I parked my car just off the highway and rollerbladed to the outdoor pavilion where the class was held. Mats were arranged to face the lake, small candles were placed here and there. Practice took place with the magic of the lake in front of us, the sound of people enjoying the summer evening around us and the beauty of the sunset above us. After the practice people stopped to say thank you which surprised and humbled me. I should have thanked them.
After practice I rollerbladed in the darkness back to my car stopping several times to look at the stars, stare the the lake, and check out the recent creations of 'rock balancing guy'. It was perfect.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
easy
I've been thinking about the 'easy' joke. The one we repeated over and over, the one about how easy I was. The word with its high school implications made us laugh while, at the same time, it was always said with a touch of surprise. Things were easy between us, we slipped into being together so seamlessly that it was strange but great.
I've been thinking about it and I've decided that you were easy too. You were easy to scare away.
The first time I told you that I was having doubts and needed you to be the strong one, you ended it. The first time I told you I needed distance, you retreated without even trying. The first time I gave in and gave up on us, you didn't even pretend to step forward and pick up the slack. When things stopped being easy between us, you very easily threw in the towel, very easily gave up, very easily decided it wasn't worth fighting for.
You were easy.
Thing is, you were also easy to predict. Before you left you filled the air with talk of things not being over, of wondering what it would be like to live in Toronto, of being confused, but even as you talked I knew. I knew it was over because I knew you wouldn't work for it. It'd been the way of things between us since we got together, I just ignored it. I ignored that it was easy for you to retreat and give up because I didn't want to give us up.
Lately I've been angry with you. Angry that you were so easy to scare away and that you don't care to fight but, really, I'm just angry with myself. I should have let things be easy myself and stopped trying so hard ages ago.
That's easy to see now.
I've been thinking about it and I've decided that you were easy too. You were easy to scare away.
The first time I told you that I was having doubts and needed you to be the strong one, you ended it. The first time I told you I needed distance, you retreated without even trying. The first time I gave in and gave up on us, you didn't even pretend to step forward and pick up the slack. When things stopped being easy between us, you very easily threw in the towel, very easily gave up, very easily decided it wasn't worth fighting for.
You were easy.
Thing is, you were also easy to predict. Before you left you filled the air with talk of things not being over, of wondering what it would be like to live in Toronto, of being confused, but even as you talked I knew. I knew it was over because I knew you wouldn't work for it. It'd been the way of things between us since we got together, I just ignored it. I ignored that it was easy for you to retreat and give up because I didn't want to give us up.
Lately I've been angry with you. Angry that you were so easy to scare away and that you don't care to fight but, really, I'm just angry with myself. I should have let things be easy myself and stopped trying so hard ages ago.
That's easy to see now.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
bandaids and chocolate
Today I asked the person I love to stop contacting me. If it's going to hurt, it may as well really hurt so I can feel it, grieve it, process it, and move on. Ripping the bandaid off quickly as opposed to slowly and all that.
As with all procedures for the faint of heart - or the big babies - I'm pairing the choice to really hurt all at once (instead of the long, slow, chatty email kind of hurt) with chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate to sugarcoat the fact that this is actually happening, that this is actually a breakup - period.
This sucks. Here's to crappy choices and great chocolate.
As with all procedures for the faint of heart - or the big babies - I'm pairing the choice to really hurt all at once (instead of the long, slow, chatty email kind of hurt) with chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate to sugarcoat the fact that this is actually happening, that this is actually a breakup - period.
This sucks. Here's to crappy choices and great chocolate.
every silver lining has a touch of grey
Paul McCartney did it. Alanis Morissette did it. David Bowie did it. Heck, even Bob Dylan did it. But the Greatful Dead?
It seems inherently wrong to hear “The Best of of the Greatful Dead” piping through Starbucks’ soundsystem.
“Touch of Grey” is playing. Good song. Good timing too, it reminds me of a high school friend who has been on my mind lately. We used to borrow her parents car to “go to the movies” which in high school code translated to “sneak across the boarder to go to a dead show”.
Every time we heard this song my friend would howl with laughter & tell me that it reminded her of my family. Not because we needed a silver lining or because we were pessimistic enough to think that every silver lining had a touch of grey. Nope.
It was because of the line “the dog has not been fed in years…”.
It seems inherently wrong to hear “The Best of of the Greatful Dead” piping through Starbucks’ soundsystem.
“Touch of Grey” is playing. Good song. Good timing too, it reminds me of a high school friend who has been on my mind lately. We used to borrow her parents car to “go to the movies” which in high school code translated to “sneak across the boarder to go to a dead show”.
Every time we heard this song my friend would howl with laughter & tell me that it reminded her of my family. Not because we needed a silver lining or because we were pessimistic enough to think that every silver lining had a touch of grey. Nope.
It was because of the line “the dog has not been fed in years…”.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
crap
Having just accepted an offer to return to my old job on a part-time basis, this morning I received an email from a woman I love, at an organization I love, doing a job I thought I could love, asking if I was still interested in a position there.
My gut says not to take it. The timing isn't right. I want to save my energy for other things. My profession insn't supposed to be my focus right now. In going back to my old job, I'm afraid I'm pigeonholing myself even further than I already am. That's my main interest in the new job possibility at this point in time - to keep the door open - as opposed to a geniune desire to enter a new field at this point.
Hmm. I think I already know my answer.
My gut says not to take it. The timing isn't right. I want to save my energy for other things. My profession insn't supposed to be my focus right now. In going back to my old job, I'm afraid I'm pigeonholing myself even further than I already am. That's my main interest in the new job possibility at this point in time - to keep the door open - as opposed to a geniune desire to enter a new field at this point.
Hmm. I think I already know my answer.
fluffy black dustbunnies
There was a dog in the shala this morning. A tiny, black toy poodle only a few months old and so small that he was shorter than the length of my foot. I know this because he came over to attack it a couple of times.
He was too young to practice so instead of showing us humans what upward and downward dog are really about, he darted around the studio finding all kinds of fascinating things everywhere he looked. Fast little thing. One minute I was in downward dog and the next minute a small black dustbunny was racing towards me only instead of brushing past me, it stopped to lick me.
The dustbunny lives. It was awesome fun.
Note to self: add puppy-watching to swinging on swings, climbing trees and wading in a lake/river to that list of things that lift my soul.
He was too young to practice so instead of showing us humans what upward and downward dog are really about, he darted around the studio finding all kinds of fascinating things everywhere he looked. Fast little thing. One minute I was in downward dog and the next minute a small black dustbunny was racing towards me only instead of brushing past me, it stopped to lick me.
The dustbunny lives. It was awesome fun.
Note to self: add puppy-watching to swinging on swings, climbing trees and wading in a lake/river to that list of things that lift my soul.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
you don't get to know
I'm doing better today.
My bike and I zipped around the city, the city I no longer have to leave, enjoying the bare streets with the cool breeze taking the edge off the hot sun. My bike took me to my new, favourite coffee shop before heading to Fresh for lunch on the patio where I enjoyed a perfect, solitary meal and didn't feel sad once. Not even when I noticed that I was sitting at the same table we'd sat at our last time there. That was after you told me that you loved me but didn't love me enough and I was still bewildered, struggling to understand the "but".
Even though all these weeks later I still don't understand it, I'm doing better today. But you don't get to know that. Maybe it's childish, maybe it's vengeful, maybe it's just plain mean but you don't get to know that I'm doing ok. You lost that right when you decided you couldn't say "I love you" without tacking "but" onto the end. There is no "but" to real love. Don't you know that? So, you don't get to know that at this very moment, I'm doing just fine.
You'll transform "I'm doing better today" to "I'm doing better - period" and you're going to feel better, relieved. You'll never know that I hyperventilated the first night I walked back into the apartment and felt the emptiness of the places you weren't. You'll never know that now I doubt my judgement and wonder how I got us so wrong. You'll never know that tonight while making dinner I remembered the last time I made corn, how I'd put it on the table and then pretended to need the washroom so I could cry in private. And you'll never know that I was hit with a wall of sadness, completely overwhelmed, last night when I walked past the man singing in the video store and realized it had only been one week since you and I walked past and smiled together at him singing away.
You'll never know those things. Instead, you'll feel relieved that you no longer have to feel like the 'bad guy' and that you can forget the confusion of "I love you...but" and return to your remote, untouchable ways. After two weeks of swallowing my sadness, my confusion, to help you through yours, I don't feel like making it easy for you anymore. You're not getting off the hook that easily this time.
I'm doing better today but you don't get to know that.
My bike and I zipped around the city, the city I no longer have to leave, enjoying the bare streets with the cool breeze taking the edge off the hot sun. My bike took me to my new, favourite coffee shop before heading to Fresh for lunch on the patio where I enjoyed a perfect, solitary meal and didn't feel sad once. Not even when I noticed that I was sitting at the same table we'd sat at our last time there. That was after you told me that you loved me but didn't love me enough and I was still bewildered, struggling to understand the "but".
Even though all these weeks later I still don't understand it, I'm doing better today. But you don't get to know that. Maybe it's childish, maybe it's vengeful, maybe it's just plain mean but you don't get to know that I'm doing ok. You lost that right when you decided you couldn't say "I love you" without tacking "but" onto the end. There is no "but" to real love. Don't you know that? So, you don't get to know that at this very moment, I'm doing just fine.
You'll transform "I'm doing better today" to "I'm doing better - period" and you're going to feel better, relieved. You'll never know that I hyperventilated the first night I walked back into the apartment and felt the emptiness of the places you weren't. You'll never know that now I doubt my judgement and wonder how I got us so wrong. You'll never know that tonight while making dinner I remembered the last time I made corn, how I'd put it on the table and then pretended to need the washroom so I could cry in private. And you'll never know that I was hit with a wall of sadness, completely overwhelmed, last night when I walked past the man singing in the video store and realized it had only been one week since you and I walked past and smiled together at him singing away.
You'll never know those things. Instead, you'll feel relieved that you no longer have to feel like the 'bad guy' and that you can forget the confusion of "I love you...but" and return to your remote, untouchable ways. After two weeks of swallowing my sadness, my confusion, to help you through yours, I don't feel like making it easy for you anymore. You're not getting off the hook that easily this time.
I'm doing better today but you don't get to know that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
