It's when I write the least that I'm struggling the most. There's a growing reluctance to say anything as I'm keenly aware that I've been saying the same things for months. There's an even bigger frustration that I can't pull myself out of this tailspin.
I've written of feeling like the rug was pulled out from under me taking the lovely life I'd dreamed up with it but I've written less about the aftermath, about the bewilderment of fully being present in my life and finding it lacking. Without the distraction of a relationship and without the expectation that I'd be leaving to build a new life somewhere else, taking a long, hard look at the life I have has been a rude awakening. This is a really great life I've built but it isn't necessarily the right one for me. Kind of like I built the foundations but for the wrong house.
The funny thing is, it's exactly the life I thought I wanted and even that, that I'm quite literally living a life I thought I could only dream of, makes me so very lucky. It's just that now that I'm here I'm longing for a family I don't have, people who aren't here, cityscapes that are not my own, and a different way of earning a living. I'm wondering what I want to be when I grow up, what makes me happy, and dreaming of living somewhere else. I guess that, while I was working to build this life I dreamed up whatever number of years ago, the parameters of what I wanted changed but I was too busy to notice. Now I'm not. Now I'm noticing.
I've been sifting through the vision of the life I thought I was going have, the one I've been grieving, to pull out the pieces I can achieve on my own. There's a core certainty that I'll get there with the same focus and determination that let me create this life but I struggle to retain that certainty. I'm shadowed by an all-pervasive feeling of purposelessness where, the longer I feel caught under its thumb, the less faith I have that I'll ever get out. I go on dates that bore me and serve only as reminders of how hard it's going to be to find someone again and I look at joblistings for overseas jobs that are way beyond my language skills - it's overwhelming and I'm easily buried beneath feelings of sadness, hopelessness, and wishing. Wishing things were different, or easier, or clearer.
It's not lost on me that this isn't about a life, a job, a partner, it's about me. About wondering what my purpose is, the struggle to keep the faith that I'll ever know, and that the answer lies in surrendering to the reality that I'll never know and being happy where I am. I guess I just didn't think I'd be working through all of this at this age or that I'd feel so alone while I was doing it. Even more so, I never expected that I would find it so hard to keep the faith.
I wrote this post a few days ago but didn't publish it because I'm afraid to give the wrong impression. That I'm unhappy, that I'm depressed, that I'm whining. I am those things at times but they aren't me, they're not all I feel, they just seem to be the focus of what I write about because I'm so surprised to be here and I'm working so hard, perhaps too hard, to figure out where I'm going next.
I love that I dreamed a life bigger than I thought I could ever achieve and actually got it and I love that now that I'm here I'm not content to settle. I'm glad that I'm looking, evaluating, dreaming, and even despairing because it's that constant interplay between stretching and reaching that has led me to where I am today. Still, as much as I love that that is a part of who I am, I'm definately not enjoying it at the moment and I'm definitely having trouble keeping the faith which disappoints me to no end.
It's such a strange dichotomy because I know in my heart that I'll achieve whatever dreams I set out for myself, I've never NOT gotten what I wanted/needed, but my mind is so quick to lose the plot. I could spend an entire day laughing but all it takes is one bad moment and my mind runs around like chicken little screaming that the sky is falling in. I never, ever dreamed that it would be so hard to keep that screaming voice at bay and that being in the moment, seeing beauty, laughing would take such conscious, hard effort - I remember a time when it was effortless.
Underneath all of the chicken little screaming I DO know that this too shall pass, that the ebbs will give way to flows and I work to take refuge in the present moment where my fears aren't screaming and my dreams aren't tugging. Right now the present moment means the solace of my office, the sounds of my favourite CD, and a pink-frosted valentine's cupcake. The present moment is a very good place to be.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Thursday, February 7, 2008
a whole lotta white and a splash of colour
Lots
and lots
and lots
and lots of snow today.
So I bought some of these
and returned to my nest to spend a quiet afternoon
and an even quieter evening
Not pictured is a gorgeously slow yoga practice, the watching of a very silly girl movie, the eating of cups upon cups of bright red raspberries, and a whole lot of time spent lost in daydreams.
It was a good day.
and lots
and lots
and lots of snow today.
So I bought some of these
and returned to my nest to spend a quiet afternoon
and an even quieter evening
Not pictured is a gorgeously slow yoga practice, the watching of a very silly girl movie, the eating of cups upon cups of bright red raspberries, and a whole lot of time spent lost in daydreams.
It was a good day.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
work today
Or NOT work, as the case may be. The snowstorm (I know, ANOTHER snowstorm) kept the students away and thanks to all the other snowstorms we've had I'm already caught up on casenotes, workshop prep, and my email inbox is clear for the first time in, oh, ever. It's hard to counsel when there's no one to counsel so I not-worked today.
It was a pretty good day.
Outside it continues to snow every bit as heavily as it was when I woke up this morning, tomorrow is going to be beautiful.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
yog-ahhh
So. Yoga. This morning I had to talk myself out of a temper tantrum during practice; a full on hand slapping, feet kicking, huffily exhaling tantrum. Instead, I took deep, non-huffy inhale and checked in with myself. It reminded me of the calm, rational way a parent checks in with a tantruming child: hands on hips looking down and asking in that overly-calm, soothing tone "Ok. Just what is it that you want?". Turns out, my self wanted to chill the heck out. To suck at poses I can normally do and for that to be ok. So, ok, today my asana practice sucked.
I've been moving into the intermediate (second) series these last few months which involves a lot of backbends. Instead of my chest opening, as I'd assumed would be the case, making some of the primary poses easier the opposite has happened. My back has stiffened up and I quite literally can't get into (bind) some of the twisting poses in the first series. Which causes me NO END of frustration.
I get it. I get that my body is changing. The new poses are developing underused muscles and revealing weak areas that I just worked around before, the result is that I'm stiff and am forced to develop those ignored areas before entering deeply into the poses again. Kind of like my body is using the information gained from the intermediate series to self correct. It reminded me of something someone said after I adjusted them in a class this weekend, they looked up and said that practicing is like giving the body a chance to remember where it wants to be. So true, and this is a good thing, just frustrating. Soooo frustrating.
It kills me to be incompetent at anything but to work for months to learn something only to lose it again - argh. As I moved on from my narrowly averted temper tantrum I thought about what the practice reveals in the body and, beyond that, in life. Today I got something very cool. I got that not binding in my twists doesn't mean I've become incompetent period, it just means that after such a big growth spurt my body needed to pull back and integrate what it's learned before continuing to move forward. And, yes, I got that it's very much the same in life - I got it in many, many different ways loud and clear.
This, my friends, is but one of the many reasons that yoga rocks my world.
"The power needed in yoga is the power to go through effort, difficulty or trouble without getting fatigued, depressed, discouraged or impatient and without breaking off the effort or giving up on one's aim or resolution. A quiet vigilant but undistressed persistence is the best way to get the sadhana (yogaic practice) alone" Sri Aurobindo
I've been moving into the intermediate (second) series these last few months which involves a lot of backbends. Instead of my chest opening, as I'd assumed would be the case, making some of the primary poses easier the opposite has happened. My back has stiffened up and I quite literally can't get into (bind) some of the twisting poses in the first series. Which causes me NO END of frustration.
I get it. I get that my body is changing. The new poses are developing underused muscles and revealing weak areas that I just worked around before, the result is that I'm stiff and am forced to develop those ignored areas before entering deeply into the poses again. Kind of like my body is using the information gained from the intermediate series to self correct. It reminded me of something someone said after I adjusted them in a class this weekend, they looked up and said that practicing is like giving the body a chance to remember where it wants to be. So true, and this is a good thing, just frustrating. Soooo frustrating.
It kills me to be incompetent at anything but to work for months to learn something only to lose it again - argh. As I moved on from my narrowly averted temper tantrum I thought about what the practice reveals in the body and, beyond that, in life. Today I got something very cool. I got that not binding in my twists doesn't mean I've become incompetent period, it just means that after such a big growth spurt my body needed to pull back and integrate what it's learned before continuing to move forward. And, yes, I got that it's very much the same in life - I got it in many, many different ways loud and clear.
This, my friends, is but one of the many reasons that yoga rocks my world.
"The power needed in yoga is the power to go through effort, difficulty or trouble without getting fatigued, depressed, discouraged or impatient and without breaking off the effort or giving up on one's aim or resolution. A quiet vigilant but undistressed persistence is the best way to get the sadhana (yogaic practice) alone" Sri Aurobindo
Saturday, February 2, 2008
instead
I thought today would be different.
Instead of thinking about how I thought I'd be spending the last day of January cleaning in preparation for the boy's arrival, I led my friend through two hours of yoga, pranayama and meditation which was amazing. Amazing for him and amazing for me. It reminded me of how much I wish to do that for my living - very much a new beginning in itself.
That evening, instead of thinking about how I thought I'd spend the last night of January in delicious anticipation of his arrival the next day, I spent the night snowshoeing through unplowed streets to S's house where I sat in the company of 7 others howling in laughter. It was purifying, that laughter, better than any therapy. As if the cobwebs of the last few months had been cleared to welcome a fresh start.
Instead of spending the first day of February thinking about how I thought it would begin with a trip to the airport arrivals, I spent it in a red snowsuit hiking through the forest while the snow continued to fall. Instead of thinking about how I thought the day would include the sound of our stupid, made up language I spent an hour sitting by the river listening to the sound of the water made heavy and slow by the cold. I held out hands filled with birdseed and, as the chickadees landed on my outstretched fingers to feed, I didn't once think of how I thought my hands would be holding the hand of someone else instead of birds and birdseed. Nope. Not once.
And today, instead of thinking about how I thought this would be our first full day together again, our fresh start, I woke up early to make breakfast for everyone, drew a picture that didn't suck with my new ink pens, and hiked through the still-unplowed snow to P's house to lead a group in yoga. I didn't once think of how I thought I'd be teaching yoga somewhere else, with someone else. Uh uh. Not even a little bit.
The tail end of January and the beginning of February have been packed with good things: whispered inspirations, opportunities, a knowing of where I should be, and fresh starts. Instead of spending the weekend thinking about what might have been, I spent it consciously acknowledging the new beginnings that have come my way and I didn't once think about how different these new beginnings are from the new beginning I was expecting just a few weeks ago. Definitely not. No way. Not even the tiniest little bit.
Uh. Uh.
Sigh.
Instead of thinking about how I thought I'd be spending the last day of January cleaning in preparation for the boy's arrival, I led my friend through two hours of yoga, pranayama and meditation which was amazing. Amazing for him and amazing for me. It reminded me of how much I wish to do that for my living - very much a new beginning in itself.
That evening, instead of thinking about how I thought I'd spend the last night of January in delicious anticipation of his arrival the next day, I spent the night snowshoeing through unplowed streets to S's house where I sat in the company of 7 others howling in laughter. It was purifying, that laughter, better than any therapy. As if the cobwebs of the last few months had been cleared to welcome a fresh start.
Instead of spending the first day of February thinking about how I thought it would begin with a trip to the airport arrivals, I spent it in a red snowsuit hiking through the forest while the snow continued to fall. Instead of thinking about how I thought the day would include the sound of our stupid, made up language I spent an hour sitting by the river listening to the sound of the water made heavy and slow by the cold. I held out hands filled with birdseed and, as the chickadees landed on my outstretched fingers to feed, I didn't once think of how I thought my hands would be holding the hand of someone else instead of birds and birdseed. Nope. Not once.
And today, instead of thinking about how I thought this would be our first full day together again, our fresh start, I woke up early to make breakfast for everyone, drew a picture that didn't suck with my new ink pens, and hiked through the still-unplowed snow to P's house to lead a group in yoga. I didn't once think of how I thought I'd be teaching yoga somewhere else, with someone else. Uh uh. Not even a little bit.
The tail end of January and the beginning of February have been packed with good things: whispered inspirations, opportunities, a knowing of where I should be, and fresh starts. Instead of spending the weekend thinking about what might have been, I spent it consciously acknowledging the new beginnings that have come my way and I didn't once think about how different these new beginnings are from the new beginning I was expecting just a few weeks ago. Definitely not. No way. Not even the tiniest little bit.
Uh. Uh.
Sigh.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
dear universe, please be my friend again
A few months ago I subscribed to "Thoughts From the Universe", a listserve that delivers a daily message from, well, someone in the universe to my inbox each morning. Now, these aren't just any thoughts, they're eerily-bang-on-freak-me-out-with-their-accuracy thoughts. Thoughts that without fail address exactly what is going on on that particular day. They rock. They make me laugh. They give me pause to reflect. They inspire.
And they've stopped coming. WTF?
The universe has stopped sending me inspiring thoughts? I'm not quite sure what to make of that but it's freaking me out (remember that post below about no coincidences? ;). Maybe I offended the universe? Maybe it got tired of me ignoring it first and moaning about it later? Maybe I've been so intolerable lately that even the universe got sick of me? Maybe it's just a computer glitch?
I'm not, actually, moany or intolerable or sad or offensive or any other things that could have turned the entire universe off so badly that they had to blacklist me from their email list. So I'm opting for the last option: computer glitch. Assuming for a moment that it was any of the other possibilities - dear universe, please send me your lovely messages again. I could kind of (read: really) use them right now and I promise to pay closer attention.
No more ignoring good advice and whining about it later. I promise...
And they've stopped coming. WTF?
The universe has stopped sending me inspiring thoughts? I'm not quite sure what to make of that but it's freaking me out (remember that post below about no coincidences? ;). Maybe I offended the universe? Maybe it got tired of me ignoring it first and moaning about it later? Maybe I've been so intolerable lately that even the universe got sick of me? Maybe it's just a computer glitch?
I'm not, actually, moany or intolerable or sad or offensive or any other things that could have turned the entire universe off so badly that they had to blacklist me from their email list. So I'm opting for the last option: computer glitch. Assuming for a moment that it was any of the other possibilities - dear universe, please send me your lovely messages again. I could kind of (read: really) use them right now and I promise to pay closer attention.
No more ignoring good advice and whining about it later. I promise...
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
sacred beginnings
This is where I begin each day.
I took these pictures in the evening after one of my assisting shifts. The room was packed with new years resolution people and much hotter than usual. The bright ochre walls, warm wooden floor, post-practice humidity and strange camera settings resulted in these pictures being completely overexposed but I love it. The outcome is a gorgeous, warm, bright, cozy set of pictures which is exactly what the shala is to me. A perfect, sacred, blessed way to begin each day.
I arrive at 6am, the second to arrive after A. who opens things up. By the time I get there she has already set the energy with hushed lights, twinkling candles, a hint of incense floating, and the sound of her breath as she begins her sun salutations.
'My' spot is in the back corner away from the glare of the ceiling lights and close to the window where I can feel the day wake up as the light changes. After a moment at the top of my mat, I raise my hands above my head with a deep inhale and swandive over my thighs with a deep exhale to merge my breath with A's in what feels akin to jumping off a cliff into beauty of the practice.
My view with the dancing Shiva holding reign at the front of the room. The spot directly in front of him is usually the last spot left in a crowded Mysore class so, on the few occasions that I've had to practice there, I've kicked poor Shiva more times than I can count. He's a sturdy little guy though and the brightness of his blues, reds and yellows never seem to change so I guess he's unphased by the accidental abuse.
Each time I come to samasthihi at the front of my mat I'm met with the same view. The plants change with the season. Small pine trees through the winter, now lilacs in anticipation of spring.
Reception
Not pictured. The changeroom where I'm usually whispering "shit, shit, shit" as I jam my socks on while calculating just how late I'm going to be for work. Also not pictured is the coffee shop across the road where I head, no matter how late I am, for my morning caffeine fix and a catch up with Louie and his motley crew.
If I don't show up for a few days, Louie gets concerned and I have some explaining to do when I finally reappear. Then Louie was sick for a few days and I understood, I was worried about him. His motley crew of cranky old men just weren't the same without him, people dispersed, stopped hanging around to talk about the morning news, and there was less life to the coffeeshop. He's back now and as cranky as ever with the morning headlines dominated by American politics giving him and cronies plenty to complain about.
These mornings, beginning with darkness and solitude and ending in sunrise and hello's called across the coffee shop are sacred ways to begin my day.
I took these pictures in the evening after one of my assisting shifts. The room was packed with new years resolution people and much hotter than usual. The bright ochre walls, warm wooden floor, post-practice humidity and strange camera settings resulted in these pictures being completely overexposed but I love it. The outcome is a gorgeous, warm, bright, cozy set of pictures which is exactly what the shala is to me. A perfect, sacred, blessed way to begin each day.
I arrive at 6am, the second to arrive after A. who opens things up. By the time I get there she has already set the energy with hushed lights, twinkling candles, a hint of incense floating, and the sound of her breath as she begins her sun salutations.
'My' spot is in the back corner away from the glare of the ceiling lights and close to the window where I can feel the day wake up as the light changes. After a moment at the top of my mat, I raise my hands above my head with a deep inhale and swandive over my thighs with a deep exhale to merge my breath with A's in what feels akin to jumping off a cliff into beauty of the practice.
My view with the dancing Shiva holding reign at the front of the room. The spot directly in front of him is usually the last spot left in a crowded Mysore class so, on the few occasions that I've had to practice there, I've kicked poor Shiva more times than I can count. He's a sturdy little guy though and the brightness of his blues, reds and yellows never seem to change so I guess he's unphased by the accidental abuse.
Each time I come to samasthihi at the front of my mat I'm met with the same view. The plants change with the season. Small pine trees through the winter, now lilacs in anticipation of spring. 
Reception
Not pictured. The changeroom where I'm usually whispering "shit, shit, shit" as I jam my socks on while calculating just how late I'm going to be for work. Also not pictured is the coffee shop across the road where I head, no matter how late I am, for my morning caffeine fix and a catch up with Louie and his motley crew.
If I don't show up for a few days, Louie gets concerned and I have some explaining to do when I finally reappear. Then Louie was sick for a few days and I understood, I was worried about him. His motley crew of cranky old men just weren't the same without him, people dispersed, stopped hanging around to talk about the morning news, and there was less life to the coffeeshop. He's back now and as cranky as ever with the morning headlines dominated by American politics giving him and cronies plenty to complain about.
These mornings, beginning with darkness and solitude and ending in sunrise and hello's called across the coffee shop are sacred ways to begin my day.
signs
Last weekend a friend and I were talking about signs. Whether there really is no such thing as a coincidence or whether sometimes a song is just a song, with no great, cosmic meaning attached. I fall strictly in the first category. I don't believe in coincidence and I do believe that if you're looking to learn, there's learning in every moment, however random the event.
On the drive home following that conversation I passed a church with the question "What if God is looking for a sign?" posted outside. It's so common to hear someone say they just need a sign, it made me laugh to think of the reverse - yeah, what if God (or the universe or whatever) is looking for a sign from us? I love that reversal.
At first the sign was just a sign, I didn't attach any meaning to it beyond thinking it clever. It's stayed with me though, percolating back there in my unconscious and mixing with other seemingly random events, joining forces to elbow their way back to my consciousness with the question - what kind of sign am I giving?
This comes on the tail end of a season of other seemingly random insights all pointing to the ways that the only person holding me back is me. It also follows months of messages from teachers I respect telling me it's time to stop looking for teachers and teach and time to stop waiting to be ready to act and just act. These messages are not actually so subtle and they're not even waiting for a sign from me, they're raining down on me while I hold an umbrella over my head stating that I just need a few months more incubation time. Maybe I do, maybe I don't.
One sign that wasn't too subtle was my first thought upon waking this morning which was "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UUUUUUUP!!" directed towards my alarm clock. I listened to that sign, turned off my alarm clock, and rolled over to enjoy an extra 2.5 hours sleep with my purring kitty cat. I need more sleep, that's one message I willingly embrace.
On the drive home following that conversation I passed a church with the question "What if God is looking for a sign?" posted outside. It's so common to hear someone say they just need a sign, it made me laugh to think of the reverse - yeah, what if God (or the universe or whatever) is looking for a sign from us? I love that reversal.
At first the sign was just a sign, I didn't attach any meaning to it beyond thinking it clever. It's stayed with me though, percolating back there in my unconscious and mixing with other seemingly random events, joining forces to elbow their way back to my consciousness with the question - what kind of sign am I giving?
This comes on the tail end of a season of other seemingly random insights all pointing to the ways that the only person holding me back is me. It also follows months of messages from teachers I respect telling me it's time to stop looking for teachers and teach and time to stop waiting to be ready to act and just act. These messages are not actually so subtle and they're not even waiting for a sign from me, they're raining down on me while I hold an umbrella over my head stating that I just need a few months more incubation time. Maybe I do, maybe I don't.
One sign that wasn't too subtle was my first thought upon waking this morning which was "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UUUUUUUP!!" directed towards my alarm clock. I listened to that sign, turned off my alarm clock, and rolled over to enjoy an extra 2.5 hours sleep with my purring kitty cat. I need more sleep, that's one message I willingly embrace.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
one day you finally knew...
Round and round, this is what this fish does. For a year he's swum round this bowl which looks tiny and very boring but my uncle made a good point: this is all he's ever known and the energy coming from his direction was not at all bored or unhappy - it was gorgeous and bright.
I, however, am neither a fish. I'm bored. But, then again, I'm not bored. Which makes no sense at all and I probably shouldn't try to write about it until it does but I wanted to post the fish pictures - they make me happy with their bright orange-ness - and it didn't seem right to post them with no comment at all. So I started commenting and this is where I've ended up.
So. Yeah. Bored, uninspired and unchallenged but also not bored in the least. There are so many things swirling, whirling and twirling beneath this still, mundane, unchanging surface, never mind all that's happening in the physical world, that as much as I'm bored, I also feel like I can't quite keep up - but I can't put my finger on any of it well enough to articulate. So much happening that I don't even know that I know, which , I realize, also makes no sense.
One of my teachers met my statement that I was bored with the words "Good", adding that beneath the boredom, deep creativity is at work. Things are changing, ideas are perculating, knowledge is coming and that when the timing is right it will move to the surface. I know that to be true. I feel it to be true. So, I'm biding my time, knowing that to every winter freeze there is a spring filled with new growth and that I chose boredom this year knowing there was less obvious work to be done.
In the meantime, it makes me happy to look at the pictures of the fish. I'm willing to bet that that happy, bright, vibrant little being doesn't stop his dance around his bowl to say "Wait a minute! Haven't I BEEN here already?" he just goes where he goes. So I wanted to post the pictures as a reminder to myself that sometimes it's ok not to think, or analyze, or know where I'm going or why I'm going there - sometimes its ok to just go where I go and take refuge in the present moment while I'm doing it.
"One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began..."
Mary Oliver, The Journey
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
forks in the road
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".
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".
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.
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