The book club that never reads was a huge amount of fun tonight. The one guy who always does read the book tried, as usual, to redirect the conversation to the pesky topic of the story at hand but he was outnumbered.
Instead we leapfrogged from topic to topic, falling into side conversations only to dovetail together again at a completely new, and seemingly random, point. Conversations are as likely to begin with statements like "I don't know how familiar you are with bigimpressivename's most recent archeological findings using carbon imprinting but..." as they are with "Well, it's like Richard Burton always said: 'Dick is not a name, it's an appendage'". Fun times.
I know this group because I used to work with some of them at one of my most favourite jobs ever. Tonight I got the inside scoop on an upcoming opening that I was encouraged to apply for. It's my dream job at my dream institution with my dream team. 16 hours per week in the late afternoons which leaves plenty of time for yoga and long, lazy mornings, working with a client group I'm experienced with, doing work that I like doing, and it's the perfect place and team to nurture me at this point in my career. Oh, and since it runs from September-April time off to travel is literally built into the job description.
The catch? The reason I left my 'most favourite job ever' was because of the distance, it's an hour drive from where I live.
We'll see. Maybe Hamilton isn't done with me yet.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
spring
I wasn't sure about today.
It began as it does every morning with me pressing snooze, every four minutes for 20 minutes which, I know, makes no sense but that's not the point. The point is that this morning was different. It should have been a great morning since it followed the night that I slept more than three hours which, in itself, was a feat as sleep has eluded me lately; however, inbetween violently assaulting my alarm clock (who was really only trying to do his job, poor, misunderstood thing), instead of chasing after those precious extra minutes of sleep, I lay there moping. Oh, woe is me, another day. So much work to do, relationship confusion, job confusion, identity crisis; I simply can't face another day - quick, someone bring me my violin.
Sadly. I live alone and the cat that lives with me doesn't speak "whine" so, I got up. And damned if it isn't a freaking great day to be alive.
I dragged myself to yoga mentally preparing myself to defend my poor, fragile, woe-is-me-life-is-hard body from my uber-ashtangi teachers who tend toward aggressive in their adjustments but they denied me the opportunity to explain just how hard life has been lately by leaving me alone to practice in peace, interrupting me only once with the most gentle of adjustments. Practice felt good.
Work was punctuated by a series of family group emails bearing "spring has sprung" ditties initiated by my Grandmother who, in email land, we refer to as 'ima' (get it? ipod, ibook, ima...funny bunch, my family). I was stuck inside an institutional cement box so it could have been hailing frogs for all I knew but when I escaped at 3pm I discovered that it's true. Spring has sprung.
Maybe its spring, maybe its the sleep, maybe its any number of things but I feel alive with possibilities. My job, my apartment, my plans for the summer - all up in the air and, at this moment at least, I'm loving it. I feel free and open and constricted by the few plans that I do have. With the exception of the fact that the one person I'd like to spend time with isn't here, I'd be very happy to hang around Toronto, visiting, yoga-ing, minimal amounts of working, and maximum amounts of chilling for the summer. But then, this will be my last chunk of free time until next April so I also feel the call to take advantage of it and go somewhere far away. Having the option to choose is delicious.
I type from my mom's patio. The ravine to my left gives me the sound of the running river and calling birds and I sit, coat-free, squinting through my sunglasses while the late afternoon sun keeps me warm. Soon I'll leave to join the bookclub that never reads the books for the first time since November and I can't wait to see everyone.
Happy spring to you all :)
It began as it does every morning with me pressing snooze, every four minutes for 20 minutes which, I know, makes no sense but that's not the point. The point is that this morning was different. It should have been a great morning since it followed the night that I slept more than three hours which, in itself, was a feat as sleep has eluded me lately; however, inbetween violently assaulting my alarm clock (who was really only trying to do his job, poor, misunderstood thing), instead of chasing after those precious extra minutes of sleep, I lay there moping. Oh, woe is me, another day. So much work to do, relationship confusion, job confusion, identity crisis; I simply can't face another day - quick, someone bring me my violin.
Sadly. I live alone and the cat that lives with me doesn't speak "whine" so, I got up. And damned if it isn't a freaking great day to be alive.
I dragged myself to yoga mentally preparing myself to defend my poor, fragile, woe-is-me-life-is-hard body from my uber-ashtangi teachers who tend toward aggressive in their adjustments but they denied me the opportunity to explain just how hard life has been lately by leaving me alone to practice in peace, interrupting me only once with the most gentle of adjustments. Practice felt good.
Work was punctuated by a series of family group emails bearing "spring has sprung" ditties initiated by my Grandmother who, in email land, we refer to as 'ima' (get it? ipod, ibook, ima...funny bunch, my family). I was stuck inside an institutional cement box so it could have been hailing frogs for all I knew but when I escaped at 3pm I discovered that it's true. Spring has sprung.
Maybe its spring, maybe its the sleep, maybe its any number of things but I feel alive with possibilities. My job, my apartment, my plans for the summer - all up in the air and, at this moment at least, I'm loving it. I feel free and open and constricted by the few plans that I do have. With the exception of the fact that the one person I'd like to spend time with isn't here, I'd be very happy to hang around Toronto, visiting, yoga-ing, minimal amounts of working, and maximum amounts of chilling for the summer. But then, this will be my last chunk of free time until next April so I also feel the call to take advantage of it and go somewhere far away. Having the option to choose is delicious.
I type from my mom's patio. The ravine to my left gives me the sound of the running river and calling birds and I sit, coat-free, squinting through my sunglasses while the late afternoon sun keeps me warm. Soon I'll leave to join the bookclub that never reads the books for the first time since November and I can't wait to see everyone.
Happy spring to you all :)
Thursday, March 22, 2007
subway
The man across from me talks loudly to himself and the woman sitting beside him moves to sit next to me. Music escapes her headphones and works their way into my consciousness, pulling me from reading these words, which I love so much I've revisited the book several times over the past few years:
"I recommend it, by the way - pond watching - as therapy. There is something about water, even if you have no particular interest in the life forms within it. It is the medium we came from, after all. We were all rocked by water at our beginnings" Mary Lawson, Crow Lake.
A couple has occupied the seats to my left for several stops. They haven't exchanged a word or made eye contact with one another since boarding. I wonder whether they are soulmate compatible or alienated and dispassionate in their silence. I think the latter but then he leans over to brush a stray piece of hair from her cheek in what I assume to be a tender gesture. For some reason I'm relieved - they are connected. She looks down to watch his actions but doesn't turn towards him or acknowledge his gesture in any way and I return to interpreting their silence as distant. Her lack of engagement with him makes me dislike her.
The conductor admonishes those waiting on the platform to let riders off before trying to board. Two times. Its funny. He tries a new tactic, reminding us that we might find it easier to board if we would make use of more than one door instead of all trying to crowd in through the same one. But we're already on board and mid-tunnel. This is funny too. He must be having a very looong day down here in the dark tunnels and I hope his shift passes quickly for him.
"I recommend it, by the way - pond watching - as therapy. There is something about water, even if you have no particular interest in the life forms within it. It is the medium we came from, after all. We were all rocked by water at our beginnings" Mary Lawson, Crow Lake.
A couple has occupied the seats to my left for several stops. They haven't exchanged a word or made eye contact with one another since boarding. I wonder whether they are soulmate compatible or alienated and dispassionate in their silence. I think the latter but then he leans over to brush a stray piece of hair from her cheek in what I assume to be a tender gesture. For some reason I'm relieved - they are connected. She looks down to watch his actions but doesn't turn towards him or acknowledge his gesture in any way and I return to interpreting their silence as distant. Her lack of engagement with him makes me dislike her.
The conductor admonishes those waiting on the platform to let riders off before trying to board. Two times. Its funny. He tries a new tactic, reminding us that we might find it easier to board if we would make use of more than one door instead of all trying to crowd in through the same one. But we're already on board and mid-tunnel. This is funny too. He must be having a very looong day down here in the dark tunnels and I hope his shift passes quickly for him.
ok, follow your bliss, you win
I don't know who wrote the poem that follows but its been drawn to my attention several times recently and, each time, I've resisted posting it. After it made its way to my attention again today, I give up. It wants to be read and I see beauty and strength in these words.
Energy Flows Where Attention Goes
Go out and live. Break your heart with too much caring, and gather around you the knowledge that you can survive. Risk it all to do what you love, and know that you are strong enough to go on, win or lose.
If you wait for the moment when everything is ready, you will never begin. And if you spend your whole life waiting for the storm, you’ll never enjoy the sunshine.
Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go. When you have exhausted all possibilities, remember this — you haven’t.
Every adversity, every failure, every heartache carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit. It also has the potential to open your eyes and your heart.
Far away in the sunshine are my highest inspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see the beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead.
It’s not what you are, but what you don’t become that hurts.
Follow Your Bliss
I love it most for the first and the last lines. The first because a year ago I promised myself that I would go out and live, I'd give up what I was content with to rediscover what I love, and I would love someone fearlessly. It's been terrifying. There has been adversity, heartache and failure but there has also been an opening of eyes, heart and inspiration - they've just been slower to follow and I've been impatient. So, there is that. The other reason I love the first lines so much? I've been more than a bit sucky through it all, It doesn't hurt to be reminded that I'm strong when the scaredy-cat inside of me is quaking in her boots.
And I've never heard the sentiment of the last lines expressed in quite this way: "It's not what you are, but what you don't become that hurts". I've thought a lot about this and, I'm not not so sure I agree, but I've really enjoyed the food for thought.
Energy Flows Where Attention Goes
Go out and live. Break your heart with too much caring, and gather around you the knowledge that you can survive. Risk it all to do what you love, and know that you are strong enough to go on, win or lose.
If you wait for the moment when everything is ready, you will never begin. And if you spend your whole life waiting for the storm, you’ll never enjoy the sunshine.
Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go. When you have exhausted all possibilities, remember this — you haven’t.
Every adversity, every failure, every heartache carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit. It also has the potential to open your eyes and your heart.
Far away in the sunshine are my highest inspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see the beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead.
It’s not what you are, but what you don’t become that hurts.
Follow Your Bliss
I love it most for the first and the last lines. The first because a year ago I promised myself that I would go out and live, I'd give up what I was content with to rediscover what I love, and I would love someone fearlessly. It's been terrifying. There has been adversity, heartache and failure but there has also been an opening of eyes, heart and inspiration - they've just been slower to follow and I've been impatient. So, there is that. The other reason I love the first lines so much? I've been more than a bit sucky through it all, It doesn't hurt to be reminded that I'm strong when the scaredy-cat inside of me is quaking in her boots.
And I've never heard the sentiment of the last lines expressed in quite this way: "It's not what you are, but what you don't become that hurts". I've thought a lot about this and, I'm not not so sure I agree, but I've really enjoyed the food for thought.
making room
March 21, 2007
Spring equinox today. Does that mean something? Is it a "time" for something? Should I be concluding, honouring, or manifesting in some way? Given that it's spring, a time for new life and for rebirth, I'm going to manifest.
I manifest inspiration, enthusiasm, opportunity, options, possibilities, lightness, and joy. New doors will open. Options will arise. Support will be there. A new life will begin.
I'm strangely excited by it. I say strangely because life is full of endings right now; some expected, some unexpected, some unwanted. There is sadness, loss and disappointment. There is also fear. I'm scared. There's no escape from the uncertainty of the future, no escape from the fact that I don't know what I'm doing. I'm without a plan. So it feels strange to be excited; strange, confusing and wrong all at the same time. Should I be excited when I'm so scared? And sad? And when I know nothing for certain? Am I allowed to feel excitement as well?
Although this post is full of questions, I'm not looking for anyone to give me answers. I have my own and, for those still pending, there's a sense of acceptance that's been missing as of late. Things will come. They already are.
Last week I was telling someone of my thoughts of redacting my resignation and returning to my old job. I liked it well enough, loved some parts of it, it paid the bills, required little effort - why not? Still, as I outlined my reasons we both knew that the main reason was because it was a sure thing and I'm way freaked out by not knowing what comes next professionally. His response was "don't be conservative". Simple, but good.
Quotes about "living fearlessly", poems titled "follow your bliss", career possibilities all find their way to me; new connections are popping out of the woodwork and old ones are rearing their heads to say hello.
Inspiration, support, options and possibilities are there. Maybe I just had to stop obssessing over the endings to allow room for the beginnings.
Spring equinox today. Does that mean something? Is it a "time" for something? Should I be concluding, honouring, or manifesting in some way? Given that it's spring, a time for new life and for rebirth, I'm going to manifest.
I manifest inspiration, enthusiasm, opportunity, options, possibilities, lightness, and joy. New doors will open. Options will arise. Support will be there. A new life will begin.
I'm strangely excited by it. I say strangely because life is full of endings right now; some expected, some unexpected, some unwanted. There is sadness, loss and disappointment. There is also fear. I'm scared. There's no escape from the uncertainty of the future, no escape from the fact that I don't know what I'm doing. I'm without a plan. So it feels strange to be excited; strange, confusing and wrong all at the same time. Should I be excited when I'm so scared? And sad? And when I know nothing for certain? Am I allowed to feel excitement as well?
Although this post is full of questions, I'm not looking for anyone to give me answers. I have my own and, for those still pending, there's a sense of acceptance that's been missing as of late. Things will come. They already are.
Last week I was telling someone of my thoughts of redacting my resignation and returning to my old job. I liked it well enough, loved some parts of it, it paid the bills, required little effort - why not? Still, as I outlined my reasons we both knew that the main reason was because it was a sure thing and I'm way freaked out by not knowing what comes next professionally. His response was "don't be conservative". Simple, but good.
Quotes about "living fearlessly", poems titled "follow your bliss", career possibilities all find their way to me; new connections are popping out of the woodwork and old ones are rearing their heads to say hello.
Inspiration, support, options and possibilities are there. Maybe I just had to stop obssessing over the endings to allow room for the beginnings.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
ekah
I originally titled this post 'my sister is brilliant' but I have two sisters who are each brilliant and who each bring me such gifts that that didn't seem right. This post, though, is about my younger sister, Ekah.
I emailed her this morning asking for a poem and she complied. I forgot the power her words have to bring me to tears - so poignant; hopeful and heartbreaking at the same time. Again I'm reminded that she writes better than I think she will ever let herself know. I know I've mentioned that in other posts, but whenever I read one of her poems, see the pictures she's created, feel the energy she brings, I wish that I could pull her, just for a minute, from herself so she could see what I see.
She's an ugly girl, that wants to be pretty
She's a pretty girl, with ugly ways
She's clean for you
because she got dirty
took extra care
to look untouched.
She knows you love her, but stand alone
so she rebels in private
and meets you on sundays
She's a smart, dumb girl
that wants too much
but won't get enough.
She uses your head
because hers is too hard.
She's a cop out
that puts too much in
She's all over when you're gone
but goes back to where you found her.
She ripped herself off, by turning you on
She takes baths by candle
but gets dirty so fast
She gave too much
but not enough
on purpose.
She's wide wide wide
closed.
I emailed her this morning asking for a poem and she complied. I forgot the power her words have to bring me to tears - so poignant; hopeful and heartbreaking at the same time. Again I'm reminded that she writes better than I think she will ever let herself know. I know I've mentioned that in other posts, but whenever I read one of her poems, see the pictures she's created, feel the energy she brings, I wish that I could pull her, just for a minute, from herself so she could see what I see.
She's an ugly girl, that wants to be pretty
She's a pretty girl, with ugly ways
She's clean for you
because she got dirty
took extra care
to look untouched.
She knows you love her, but stand alone
so she rebels in private
and meets you on sundays
She's a smart, dumb girl
that wants too much
but won't get enough.
She uses your head
because hers is too hard.
She's a cop out
that puts too much in
She's all over when you're gone
but goes back to where you found her.
She ripped herself off, by turning you on
She takes baths by candle
but gets dirty so fast
She gave too much
but not enough
on purpose.
She's wide wide wide
closed.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
hell hath no fury like a wet cat
Long ago, when the cat first moved in, someone sent me a comic strip that said "God gave us dogs to remind us to get outside and cats to remind us to sit and enjoy the moment". Tonight, after a day which may best be remembered as "the day I could do nothing right", I did both.
When I got home from work the cat, sensing my mood, disposed of his usual tear up and down the length of the apartment and sat on my lap, purring, while we watched the light change. After a while of that, with some self-pity thrown in for good (bad?) measure, I roused myself and headed to my sister's to take her dog for a walk in the park. Chevy ran ecstatic circles around me while I rediscovered the smell of earth, the sound of my shoes squelching in deep mud puddles, and the pink sky of sunset framed by the forest instead of city buildings.
I also met George who greeted me by wrapping his jaws around my right thigh. Any other time, that might be the prelude to a damn fun night but George was a dog. A very big dog who his owner introduced as a "real mr. grumpy-boots" which, I suppose, is more positive than introducing him as "rabid". A hug from my sister, a phone call from my cousin, a deep breath of spring in the air, and the pure, unadulterated joy of dogs running in the park helped make the events of "the day I could do nothing right" melt away.
I also discovered something that the comic strip forgot to mention: nothing, and I mean absolutely NOTHING, can top the sight of a cat falling into a bathtub full of water. That shit is gold.
When I got home from work the cat, sensing my mood, disposed of his usual tear up and down the length of the apartment and sat on my lap, purring, while we watched the light change. After a while of that, with some self-pity thrown in for good (bad?) measure, I roused myself and headed to my sister's to take her dog for a walk in the park. Chevy ran ecstatic circles around me while I rediscovered the smell of earth, the sound of my shoes squelching in deep mud puddles, and the pink sky of sunset framed by the forest instead of city buildings.
I also met George who greeted me by wrapping his jaws around my right thigh. Any other time, that might be the prelude to a damn fun night but George was a dog. A very big dog who his owner introduced as a "real mr. grumpy-boots" which, I suppose, is more positive than introducing him as "rabid". A hug from my sister, a phone call from my cousin, a deep breath of spring in the air, and the pure, unadulterated joy of dogs running in the park helped make the events of "the day I could do nothing right" melt away.
I also discovered something that the comic strip forgot to mention: nothing, and I mean absolutely NOTHING, can top the sight of a cat falling into a bathtub full of water. That shit is gold.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
all that you can't leave behind
In two completely unrelated events, last week began with hospital tests and ended with a funeral. With the combination of the two so close together, I have death on my mind. And life. I've been thinking about what makes a good life, what I'd like to see when I look back at the end of it all.
Seeing those gathered to honour L. at the service, looking at the pictures strewn across several bristol boards, pictures where she was rarely alone, instead always surrounded by loved ones, listening to messages from her Grandchildren about the shared gift of baking or gardening; it occurred to me - this is what it is all about.
It's about love. About the family I build, the lives I touch, the gifts I share. It's about what I leave behind.
So. What do I want to leave behind?
Seeing those gathered to honour L. at the service, looking at the pictures strewn across several bristol boards, pictures where she was rarely alone, instead always surrounded by loved ones, listening to messages from her Grandchildren about the shared gift of baking or gardening; it occurred to me - this is what it is all about.
It's about love. About the family I build, the lives I touch, the gifts I share. It's about what I leave behind.
So. What do I want to leave behind?
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
like butterflies dancing across my back
OK. Permission granted to roll your eyes all you want, I know I did, but remember, I didn't ask for it; the words popped completely without encouragement into my mind this morning when I was being adjusted by my teacher's mother (herself a yogi and teacher for 30+ years): "like butterflies dancing across my back". Having spent most of last night awake, waiting for the death grip of a sugar rush to leave my very tired body (note to self: it doesn't take half the pan to 'test' the brownies you baked to bring to work), I chalked the butterfly imagery up to exhaustion. Then it happened again. Another adjustment and there they were, the words themselves dancing across my mind in this crazy, pink cursive script. And I'm not even a pink-cursive-script-liking kind of person. Uber-ashtangi, muscle wrenching adjustments my ass! Those were the most gentle, powerful adjustments ever. I'm inspired.
This inspired me too: "The seeds of some trees are so tightly compacted within their protective covering that only the intense heat of a forest fire can free them, allowing them to sprout". Out of fire comes life. Love. That.
And, for the record, if any of you are wondering whether I've noticed what inspires you - I have. Scaredy-cat resigned from my job post = nothing, boobs and blowjob posts = comments.
Filthy readers ;)
This inspired me too: "The seeds of some trees are so tightly compacted within their protective covering that only the intense heat of a forest fire can free them, allowing them to sprout". Out of fire comes life. Love. That.
And, for the record, if any of you are wondering whether I've noticed what inspires you - I have. Scaredy-cat resigned from my job post = nothing, boobs and blowjob posts = comments.
Filthy readers ;)
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
hyvaa shittia
I'm almost loathe to write about this morning in case anyone chooses to make mountains out of what was a supercool experience; but I'm so excited that I'll brave the threat of pop-psychoanalysis anyway.
I met with my meditation teacher this morning and, after sitting for some time, we were talking, not surprisingly, about meditation. About the push and pull for attention, the mind's need to follow sounds...memories...stories...anything to occupy itself and provide distraction from the very simple state of being fully present - just me, right here, right now. He caught onto something in the way I was describing my experience with the morning's meditation, he noticed judging in my speech. In return he seemed genuinely puzzled and was talking about the possibility of NOT judging meditation as 'performance' (that kind of misses the mark) but to use it as an opportunity to just notice. Notice what comes up, the 'good' and the 'bad', and welcome it all equally - without commenting, judging, or applying value. Of course, I know this. I know it a million, trillion times over but, damn, its hard.
As he was talking about not following thoughts, not judging, just being me, right here, right now. A voice popped into my head; a questioning, tentative voice asking "But what if you don't like who you are?" and, of course, it wasn't entirely a hypothetical question, what I meant was "But what if I don't like who I am?". Wow. Where did that come from?
On many different levels, I really don't think I'm all that bad but I guess there's that core, that doubting, that questioning of myself, my worthiness, my goodness; that's there too just beneath the surface, spinning madly to attach to thoughts, sounds, memories, stories, even criticisms and judgements...whatever it takes to keep from peeking behind the curtain and considering the fact that there is that part of me that wonders if I'm good enough - and suspects that I'm not.
That sneaking little suspicion seems to be popping up now more than ever and, given all the changes and uncertainty in my life, it makes perfect sense. Without those external things to latch onto by way of defining myself, I'm just left with me. And, please, don't get me wrong - I don't think that's such a bad place to be; my ego is pretty healthy. Usually my teacher doesn't say much but today was different; today he contradicted me. He stated that he didn't really buy that I believed that, that I didn't like myself, he thought that it was just a 'safe', comfortable place for my mind to go. I think we were both right. I know this may not sound like such a big insight to you but, for me, it's like a light went on in a corner of a room that I didn't even know was there; I'm super excited.
As we talked I felt the inanity of it and had this wish to be a fly on a wall, to witness our conversation and watch as he made his third separate attempt to explain the various alternates to self criticism or judging. It was like being being oriented to a world that I really didn't have the social background to integrate myself into on my own. Even at the time I could see the humour of it as I stopped him to clarify for the millionth time "Ok...so, wait...when I think X I should just accept it? Let it be there without buying into it? Without attaching to it?"...long pause..."Really?".
Hmm. Interesting idea Dr. Meditation ;)
I met with my meditation teacher this morning and, after sitting for some time, we were talking, not surprisingly, about meditation. About the push and pull for attention, the mind's need to follow sounds...memories...stories...anything to occupy itself and provide distraction from the very simple state of being fully present - just me, right here, right now. He caught onto something in the way I was describing my experience with the morning's meditation, he noticed judging in my speech. In return he seemed genuinely puzzled and was talking about the possibility of NOT judging meditation as 'performance' (that kind of misses the mark) but to use it as an opportunity to just notice. Notice what comes up, the 'good' and the 'bad', and welcome it all equally - without commenting, judging, or applying value. Of course, I know this. I know it a million, trillion times over but, damn, its hard.
As he was talking about not following thoughts, not judging, just being me, right here, right now. A voice popped into my head; a questioning, tentative voice asking "But what if you don't like who you are?" and, of course, it wasn't entirely a hypothetical question, what I meant was "But what if I don't like who I am?". Wow. Where did that come from?
On many different levels, I really don't think I'm all that bad but I guess there's that core, that doubting, that questioning of myself, my worthiness, my goodness; that's there too just beneath the surface, spinning madly to attach to thoughts, sounds, memories, stories, even criticisms and judgements...whatever it takes to keep from peeking behind the curtain and considering the fact that there is that part of me that wonders if I'm good enough - and suspects that I'm not.
That sneaking little suspicion seems to be popping up now more than ever and, given all the changes and uncertainty in my life, it makes perfect sense. Without those external things to latch onto by way of defining myself, I'm just left with me. And, please, don't get me wrong - I don't think that's such a bad place to be; my ego is pretty healthy. Usually my teacher doesn't say much but today was different; today he contradicted me. He stated that he didn't really buy that I believed that, that I didn't like myself, he thought that it was just a 'safe', comfortable place for my mind to go. I think we were both right. I know this may not sound like such a big insight to you but, for me, it's like a light went on in a corner of a room that I didn't even know was there; I'm super excited.
As we talked I felt the inanity of it and had this wish to be a fly on a wall, to witness our conversation and watch as he made his third separate attempt to explain the various alternates to self criticism or judging. It was like being being oriented to a world that I really didn't have the social background to integrate myself into on my own. Even at the time I could see the humour of it as I stopped him to clarify for the millionth time "Ok...so, wait...when I think X I should just accept it? Let it be there without buying into it? Without attaching to it?"...long pause..."Really?".
Hmm. Interesting idea Dr. Meditation ;)
Saturday, February 24, 2007
who? me?
I was talking to one of my favourite people in the entire world today and, as is the case with all our conversations, after we hung up the phone I sat lost in thought, letting snippets of our conversation float to the surface before drifting away. We have the oddest synchronicity, he and I. He's my spiritual twin, my mirror, and he has the habit of saying exactly what I need to hear. I often feel like I've exhaled whatever it was I needed to release or relax into after we've talked. It's perfect.
Today he was talking about his 3 year old daughter, how he's noticed that she will not do things if told - pushed - to do them but that if left alone and given space, she'll do it of her own accord. Yeah. I know that that's not news, that you've probably observed that with other beings in your life, but it was exactly what I needed to hear today.
I'm pushing the universe on a million different levels to reveal what it has in store for me. There are too many unknowns in my future which feel all too real because I 'officially' resigned from my job yesterday. I'm scared and I'm pushing. My incessant, constant, scratching need. to. know. is pushing, pushing, pushing in this hopeless, impossible game that I can't possibly win. I know it, I know I can't push things to reveal themselves before their time but, in my fear, I forget.
It was good to be reminded by K. today. Every time I replay his words in my mind I get this kind of abashed, embarassed grin on my face and feel that pushy part of me look around with mock innocence as if to say "Who me? Pushing?" with lips pursed in a too-casual whistle. Yeah, you, pushing - I see you.
It's good to have mirrors.
Today he was talking about his 3 year old daughter, how he's noticed that she will not do things if told - pushed - to do them but that if left alone and given space, she'll do it of her own accord. Yeah. I know that that's not news, that you've probably observed that with other beings in your life, but it was exactly what I needed to hear today.
I'm pushing the universe on a million different levels to reveal what it has in store for me. There are too many unknowns in my future which feel all too real because I 'officially' resigned from my job yesterday. I'm scared and I'm pushing. My incessant, constant, scratching need. to. know. is pushing, pushing, pushing in this hopeless, impossible game that I can't possibly win. I know it, I know I can't push things to reveal themselves before their time but, in my fear, I forget.
It was good to be reminded by K. today. Every time I replay his words in my mind I get this kind of abashed, embarassed grin on my face and feel that pushy part of me look around with mock innocence as if to say "Who me? Pushing?" with lips pursed in a too-casual whistle. Yeah, you, pushing - I see you.
It's good to have mirrors.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
you mean that's NOT the best thing ever?
Many, many years ago when I was working on my undergrad degree I participated in a PhD research study in exchange for course credit. Since the study explored the connection between depression and dependency, we were asked to complete a questionnaire about our experience with depression, our social network, who we turn to for support/advice, our ability to make independent decisions etc. before being selected (or not) to participate. We received class credit just for completing the questionnaire so I considered it an easy grade - I was surprised when they called me to participate.
It turns out they wanted me to join the 'other' group, the control or comparison group because my scores for 'dependency on others' was so low. As in the lowest he'd seen. Ever. I remember that because he repeated it over and over. Each time he marveled at my low dependency scores I responded with a kind of 'aw, shucks' duck of my head, a little embarrassed at his outrageous flattery.
It wasn't until several years later that I realized that he may not necessarily have been paying me a compliment.
It turns out they wanted me to join the 'other' group, the control or comparison group because my scores for 'dependency on others' was so low. As in the lowest he'd seen. Ever. I remember that because he repeated it over and over. Each time he marveled at my low dependency scores I responded with a kind of 'aw, shucks' duck of my head, a little embarrassed at his outrageous flattery.
It wasn't until several years later that I realized that he may not necessarily have been paying me a compliment.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
the difference between a teacher and a Teacher
I practiced beside a visiting student at the shala this morning. She clearly had a practice she was comfortable with and each time my Teacher made a suggestion or tried to adjust her she stopped him by saying "I can't".
As I watched Matt respond to this time and time again with the same level of quiet patience and faith I realized something: a Teacher responds to "I can't" by asking you to try - not "because they said so" or to prove them right but to give you the opportunity to prove yourself wrong.
As I watched Matt respond to this time and time again with the same level of quiet patience and faith I realized something: a Teacher responds to "I can't" by asking you to try - not "because they said so" or to prove them right but to give you the opportunity to prove yourself wrong.
Friday, February 16, 2007
ever done this?
Take a blank piece of paper, divide it into a table with 9 columns and 21 rows. Enter the following questions into the headers of the 9 columns: activity, when was the last time you did this?, free or costs $?, alone or with someone else?, planned or spontaneous?, job related?, involving physical risk?, fast or slow paced?, does it feed your mind/body/or spirit?. Brainstorm 20 things you love to do and enter them into the "things" column in each of the 20 remaining rows, complete the remaining columns for each of the items you recorded.
I'd completely forgotten about this exercise until I came upon a completed chart while I was looking through old books trying to find some paper today (paper which, by the way, was useless once I'd found it because I couldn't find a working pen. In this entire apartment, not one working pen. I'm a student and I write, how is that possible?). Because I have such an overwhelming amount of work to do, I was happy to procrastinate by giving it another go. Although I didn't do it with the intention of comparing it to the one I'd done a few years ago, it was interesting to look at two together. Some changes, some not at all.
The first thing I noticed was how absolutely blessed I am, that a majority of the "things I love to do" are a part of my daily life. 8 of the 20 things recorded were things I'd engaged in within the last 24 hours, 5 others were things I'd done within the last 2 weeks, and 3 others within the last 2 months. The only real hold-outs were the things I do outdoors which I missed this year since I was away all summer. Other changes: more 'planned' than 'spontaneous' this time, life's just gotten really busy, more things need to be planned; a few more 'with someone else' than 'alone' but still, the things I love to do most are overwhelmingly things I do alone - or in the company of others but with no need to talk; almost everything I love to do is free (good thing); and a couple of work-related activities snuck onto the list where before there were none, a life where "things I love to do" are a part of my job? Say it ain't so ;)
I also found a few other exercises I'd completed which I won't bore you with but the bottom line is this: I'm living the life I always wanted. Lucky, I am, but I also know that I'm living the life I've always wanted because I created it. I worked hard, made choices that scared the crap out of me, and took risks. And so, what now? I'm coming up on a time of closure, of finishing one chapter with many paths beginning to make themselves available to me and doors opening before I've even started knocking. Today I realized that before I start running towards every opportunity that presents itself, maybe I need to step back and take a more conscious approach, to at least start considering what comes next in this life that I've always wanted.
And..uh..in case you noticed the categories I didn't summarize? Yeah. Things involving physical risk? None. Fast paced or slow? All slow. I'm as boring now as I was a few years ago ;)
I'd completely forgotten about this exercise until I came upon a completed chart while I was looking through old books trying to find some paper today (paper which, by the way, was useless once I'd found it because I couldn't find a working pen. In this entire apartment, not one working pen. I'm a student and I write, how is that possible?). Because I have such an overwhelming amount of work to do, I was happy to procrastinate by giving it another go. Although I didn't do it with the intention of comparing it to the one I'd done a few years ago, it was interesting to look at two together. Some changes, some not at all.
The first thing I noticed was how absolutely blessed I am, that a majority of the "things I love to do" are a part of my daily life. 8 of the 20 things recorded were things I'd engaged in within the last 24 hours, 5 others were things I'd done within the last 2 weeks, and 3 others within the last 2 months. The only real hold-outs were the things I do outdoors which I missed this year since I was away all summer. Other changes: more 'planned' than 'spontaneous' this time, life's just gotten really busy, more things need to be planned; a few more 'with someone else' than 'alone' but still, the things I love to do most are overwhelmingly things I do alone - or in the company of others but with no need to talk; almost everything I love to do is free (good thing); and a couple of work-related activities snuck onto the list where before there were none, a life where "things I love to do" are a part of my job? Say it ain't so ;)
I also found a few other exercises I'd completed which I won't bore you with but the bottom line is this: I'm living the life I always wanted. Lucky, I am, but I also know that I'm living the life I've always wanted because I created it. I worked hard, made choices that scared the crap out of me, and took risks. And so, what now? I'm coming up on a time of closure, of finishing one chapter with many paths beginning to make themselves available to me and doors opening before I've even started knocking. Today I realized that before I start running towards every opportunity that presents itself, maybe I need to step back and take a more conscious approach, to at least start considering what comes next in this life that I've always wanted.
And..uh..in case you noticed the categories I didn't summarize? Yeah. Things involving physical risk? None. Fast paced or slow? All slow. I'm as boring now as I was a few years ago ;)
Saturday, February 10, 2007
the great christmas boob-off
For the doubters out there, a photo of the boob-off mentioned a few posts ago (what? boobs & bras are not the topic of Christmas morning conversations in your homes?).
The clear winner would have been my mother but you'll have to take my word for it, she declined to participate in our reindeer games. And she wouldn't forward me a picture with her in it. Instead, I offer you my sisters and I.
In case you're too kind to make the obvious observation yourself, I'll say it for you: an undershirt Rebecca? I know, I know, no competition but, really, I threw in the towel on that game years ago. Besides, just look at my sisters; Laura with her plucky determination to just. keep. bra'ing no matter how much we tease her in all of her a-cup gloriousness and Ekah with her engineer-like mastery of the complex mechanics of it all. Who could compete?
Well played ladies, well played.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
beeeeeep
Last Sunday my older sister had me and my younger sister (yeah, I'm the middle child; spare me the long, drawn out "ohhh's" of comprehension) over for dinner. In between yelling to be heard and screaming with laughter I remember thinking that I would love to be able to recount this story...or that story...but I can't. If I tried to transcribe our conversation it would look something like this "Beep beep beeeeeeep BEEEP beeep" because, you see, most of our conversations are like that. We make the Sex in the City characters sound like ladies at a church luncheon.
At one point we were one-upping each other on just how much we love Grandma; as in, "I love Grandma so much that...." and, as much as I do love my Grandmother, I lost. When it comes to out-grossing each other with imaginary things we'd do, I'm no match for my sisters. My older sister put me off spaghetti and raisins FOR LIFE because of her descriptions of what they 'really' were over the dinner table when we were kids and my younger sister? She's a gross-out master. Both of them, they're pro's.
I've been thinking about our Sunday dinner, the pictures my mother sent of Christmas today, an email from my father that I'd saved and, in the spirit of the game, I'd like to pass this message on to my family: I love you so much that I'd swim naked and covered in leeches across the ocean while tailed by boatloads of hollering yahoos to crawl on my hands and knees across a desert covered in shards of glass just to get to the other side to do unspeakable things to both the men AND the donkeys that accompanied me to prove my love to you.
But I hope I never have to.
At one point we were one-upping each other on just how much we love Grandma; as in, "I love Grandma so much that...." and, as much as I do love my Grandmother, I lost. When it comes to out-grossing each other with imaginary things we'd do, I'm no match for my sisters. My older sister put me off spaghetti and raisins FOR LIFE because of her descriptions of what they 'really' were over the dinner table when we were kids and my younger sister? She's a gross-out master. Both of them, they're pro's.
I've been thinking about our Sunday dinner, the pictures my mother sent of Christmas today, an email from my father that I'd saved and, in the spirit of the game, I'd like to pass this message on to my family: I love you so much that I'd swim naked and covered in leeches across the ocean while tailed by boatloads of hollering yahoos to crawl on my hands and knees across a desert covered in shards of glass just to get to the other side to do unspeakable things to both the men AND the donkeys that accompanied me to prove my love to you.
But I hope I never have to.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
The front page of yesterday's newspaper carried a picture of Greenland. A green Greenland as opposed to an ice-capped Greenland which, I gather, is normally the case. The picture was to support an article about global warming and, I'm not necessarily a fan of melting ice caps and all the rest of it, but everytime I think back to the picture I can't help but think "Awww, it's so pretty!". Global warming: stable climate, no; pretty scenery, maybe.
On the topic of the temperature, I stopped into a hardware store to buy a thermometer yesterday so I could prove to my landlord that I live in an icebox. I've been meaning to track the temperature in my apartment since last winter so I was feeling very pleased with myself for actually getting around to buying a thermometer when I noticed that every one of them bore a different temperature - sometimes varying by more than 10degrees. If they're all thermometers, measuring the same temperature, in the same store just centimetres away from each other, shouldn't they all reflect the same measurement? I ended up leaving without one (although my sister later said I should have bought the one with the lowest temperature and used that to talk to my landlord. Good point).
And, finally, I absolutely swear that my horoscope in todays paper is the exact same one that I've read before. The earth's climate, thermometers, and now my horoscope - can nothing be trusted ;)
On the topic of the temperature, I stopped into a hardware store to buy a thermometer yesterday so I could prove to my landlord that I live in an icebox. I've been meaning to track the temperature in my apartment since last winter so I was feeling very pleased with myself for actually getting around to buying a thermometer when I noticed that every one of them bore a different temperature - sometimes varying by more than 10degrees. If they're all thermometers, measuring the same temperature, in the same store just centimetres away from each other, shouldn't they all reflect the same measurement? I ended up leaving without one (although my sister later said I should have bought the one with the lowest temperature and used that to talk to my landlord. Good point).
And, finally, I absolutely swear that my horoscope in todays paper is the exact same one that I've read before. The earth's climate, thermometers, and now my horoscope - can nothing be trusted ;)
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
my office
Today at work I was trying to explain just how horrible it is to be me, in Toronto, in the winter. That I feel like I spend 99% of my life in absolute poverty of warmth. Instead of the sympathetic noises I was expecting I was met with the mocking reply of "Eaaasy Gables"; as in Anne of Green Gables the melodramatic storybook character who is never bummed, she's in the "depths of despair", and she doesn't have a good friend, she has a "bosom buddy". Mocked.
I should have known better. I should have known to turn to my family first for sympathy and understanding because, although they are absolute masters of mockery, at least they understand me while they're making fun of me. Must be something in that 'blood is thicker than water' stuff. Or maybe its just that my sisters and I were all raised under the same 'too cheap to turn on the heat' regime because my sister and I had the following conversation earlier this evening (with no prompting from me, mind you)
Sister: "I'm so cold my hands are shaking. I swear my landlord is ripping me off, it's freezing in here"
Me: [Some kind of commiseration about crappy, heat-sucking landlords]
Sister: "I swear, the only place I'm warm is in the bath"
Me: "ME TOO, I get home from work and head straight to the bath" [accessorised with splish splashing sound effects to emphasize that that was my exact location as we were speaking]
Yeah. I was in the bath.
Here's too much information (and an unwanted visual) for you: if you're talking to me or reading an email sent after 6pm, chances are they were sent from my cozy, oh-so-happy, perch in my bathtub. Where it's warm. Because that's how it goes. I get home from work, turn on the bath, feed the cat, gather my dinner/books/etc and retreat to the tub where I stay until its time to go to bed (at which point my electric blanket takes over). It's kind of like my home office.
Which got me thinking. Remember The Fonz from Happy Days? Remember how he used to call the bathroom at Al's Diner his "office" and he would order Potsy or Ralph to "Come into my office" all tough-like when he wanted to talk to them? And remember how we thought The Fonz was so very dreamy until we happened to catch the show in reruns as adults and realized that The Fonz wasn't dreamy, he was an aging mechanic who really shouldn't have been hanging out with high school kids and definitely shouldn't have been dating them. Seems like every woman my age had the same Fonz realization at some point in time - that the dreamy tough guy was really just a dirty old man in a leather coat. Now there's a life lesson.
If you want to discuss, you can reach me in my office.
I should have known better. I should have known to turn to my family first for sympathy and understanding because, although they are absolute masters of mockery, at least they understand me while they're making fun of me. Must be something in that 'blood is thicker than water' stuff. Or maybe its just that my sisters and I were all raised under the same 'too cheap to turn on the heat' regime because my sister and I had the following conversation earlier this evening (with no prompting from me, mind you)
Sister: "I'm so cold my hands are shaking. I swear my landlord is ripping me off, it's freezing in here"
Me: [Some kind of commiseration about crappy, heat-sucking landlords]
Sister: "I swear, the only place I'm warm is in the bath"
Me: "ME TOO, I get home from work and head straight to the bath" [accessorised with splish splashing sound effects to emphasize that that was my exact location as we were speaking]
Yeah. I was in the bath.
Here's too much information (and an unwanted visual) for you: if you're talking to me or reading an email sent after 6pm, chances are they were sent from my cozy, oh-so-happy, perch in my bathtub. Where it's warm. Because that's how it goes. I get home from work, turn on the bath, feed the cat, gather my dinner/books/etc and retreat to the tub where I stay until its time to go to bed (at which point my electric blanket takes over). It's kind of like my home office.
Which got me thinking. Remember The Fonz from Happy Days? Remember how he used to call the bathroom at Al's Diner his "office" and he would order Potsy or Ralph to "Come into my office" all tough-like when he wanted to talk to them? And remember how we thought The Fonz was so very dreamy until we happened to catch the show in reruns as adults and realized that The Fonz wasn't dreamy, he was an aging mechanic who really shouldn't have been hanging out with high school kids and definitely shouldn't have been dating them. Seems like every woman my age had the same Fonz realization at some point in time - that the dreamy tough guy was really just a dirty old man in a leather coat. Now there's a life lesson.
If you want to discuss, you can reach me in my office.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
initiated
Today I was counselling someone I've seen for a few sessions and, as she talked, something began to rise to the surface. Something really, really deep and buried and huge. Something that I don't think either of us were expecting. I really felt for her and this journey she was about to embark on, sometimes we have to let ourself feel worse before we can feel better (or as Rumi has, much more eloquently, said "the cure for pain is in the pain").
As I realized what she was starting to realize I looked at her with complete empathy and thought "Wow. She really should talk to a professional to deal with this". And then I caught myself - that's me - I'm the professional she's coming to to deal with this!
Ever quick to worry about my skills as a therapist, I'm pretty sure that the only reason I'm not freaking out more about this is that just about every Counsellor I've talked to or read about has commented on having the very same thought process during their early years as a therapist. Guess I've passed that part of the initiation.
As I realized what she was starting to realize I looked at her with complete empathy and thought "Wow. She really should talk to a professional to deal with this". And then I caught myself - that's me - I'm the professional she's coming to to deal with this!
Ever quick to worry about my skills as a therapist, I'm pretty sure that the only reason I'm not freaking out more about this is that just about every Counsellor I've talked to or read about has commented on having the very same thought process during their early years as a therapist. Guess I've passed that part of the initiation.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Bookmouse
Yesterday at the bookstore I saw a teensy, tiny grey mouse running frantically through the bookstacks and I had a giggle at the thought that finally, after all these years of being called one, I had seen a real, live, honest-to-god bookmouse.
Then I remembered that the term was "bookworm", not "bookmouse", and I felt a bit cheated.
Then I remembered that the term was "bookworm", not "bookmouse", and I felt a bit cheated.
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