3am snowstorm

Birthday party at The Artist's backalley house deep in the market. The invitation said "bring pie", the sign inside the front door said "pie fight, 12am". A pie fight seems like a wonderful way to welcome your 40th year of life.

We emerged from the pie orgy to a winter wonderland and spent the next several hours driving, laughing, and arguing over who got the larger half of the chocolate bar; sugar and conversation fueling us with enough energy to keep us going long enough to watch the light change down by the lake as the sun came up.











There was no yoga today. There was, however, a whole lot of sleep.

gone south

home

Down by the lake. Home.




Saturday was teaching a class, coffee with the dearest of friends and a night out on the town, in between it all I returned home for a long and lovely practice.

After practice I was laying on my back, staring at my toes above me reaching toward the ceiling, tailbone pressing into the ground, sacrum gently opening and expanding with each breath and I was so happy. There is nowhere I would rather be, nothing I would rather be doing and no one I would rather be doing it with than what exists right now.

love

snow day

Snowstorm on Wednesday shut the city down giving the gift of a snow day. No work, no school, no obligations to fulfill and no way to get around the city to meet those that might arise. The best.

Long and lazy yoga to start the day, wrapped up city-coffee-wandering in the middle, and gliding along a skating path hand in hand laughing and laughing at the end. Seriously wonderful day in the midst of a month that has me feeling like I'm stuck in an ever tightening vice. Mother nature knows.

chug, chug, chug

2011: perrier, 2031: a kegger. He's a frat boy waiting to happen....




From 2011 to 2031...I won't even tell you how long it took me to do that math. And it's probably wrong. That's why they pay me the big bucks ;).

what a bunch of posers

My family, it's a shame they're so shy...

contemplation

walk. fall down. repeat

This is what happens when you take a two year old for a walk in the snow.








He kept throwing himself down to bury his face in this new-fangled, supercool white stuff before getting up, walking a few steps to fresh ground, and do it all over again. We were out for ages but didn't cover more than a few feet, I'm going to have to get warmer boots.

seriously the cutest. thing. ever.

She had me wrapped around her finger right from the start.

this morning i pray

Returned from the south in time to head to the north to celebrate the new year in the trees. The last day of the year started with a pre-dawn visit to the water and ended in a very busy bed. In addition to those of the two-legged variety, bed was shared with a few dogs and a cat. It was crowded and warm and cuddly. I can't think of a better way to say goodbye to one year and wake up to another than wrapped in love. Happiness.

2010 was a truly wonderful year for me but so many of those I've spoken with have been very happy to see it end. For those of you that found 2010 to be a challenging one, may 2011 bring you happiness, peace and presence.


I've been filling my mind with with beautiful words of Hafiz lately but the passage below, a Gaelic poem, seemed fitting for this new year...

This Morning I Pray

This morning, as I kindle the fire on my hearth,

I pray that the flame of love may burn in

my heart and in the hearts of all I meet today.

I pray that no envy or malice,

no hatred or fear, may smother the flame.

I pray that indifference and apathy, contempt and pride,

may not pour like cold water on the fire.

Instead, may the spark of divine love

light the love in my heart,

that it may burn brightly through the day.

And may I warm those who are lonely,

whose hearts are cold and lifeless,

so that all may know the comfort of being loved.

ekam inhale

Heaven

buffalo-yogi

Four days in bed with the flu, enough. I dressed myself in every layer of clothing I could find and headed outside where the sun was. It was cold in that invigorating, glad to be alive kind of way and the sound of snow crunching under my feet, well, there's nothing like it. I went to the park to say hello to the trees and see how the animals were doing.

The llamas were still there, fit to spit and probably thinking that the signage assuring me they were used to cold weather was total crap - they might be accustomed to cold weather and high altitudes but our winters are no Peruvian mountaintop. The peacocks and wallabies were long gone for warmer climates but my favourites, the buffalo, had held their ground.

As a kid I would fixate on a topic and read everything I could find on it until I'd exhausted the library and was forced to move on: vampires, the lost city of atlantis, redwinged blackbirds, bigfoot, buffalos. There was something about the sheer size of them, that they were friendly giants, that they roamed the entire length of Canada (wanderlust even then), that they survived the ice age, that they were social and friendly - they fascinated me.

I stood and communed with the big daddy buffalo for a while, enjoying the calmness around him, before realizing that that noise I heard was his breathing. Dude was ujayii breathing. Total yogi for sure...

scenes from a couch

Sick. Holy cow, so sick. Listening to 'Great Lake Swimmers' to remind me of my lake, wearing my brightest pink pants to make me happy, cuddled under my favourite blue blanket to keep me cozy, drinking the wonder drink because it's wonderful, reading books old and new to keep me company and ignoring the outside world from my cozy nest of sickness.













I'd planned to go out and take pictures of christmas lights tonight. I'm headed south soon and I'll miss the crazy chaos of twinkling lights against the snow but even pretty lights couldn't tempt me outside today. I'm willing myself to get better for tomorrow so I can practice with the teachers teacher before we both leave for our various trips, it will be months before I'll have the opportunity to learn from him again.

I've been thinking a lot about my practice. About dogma, about rigidity, about respecting tradition in a way that supports the beautiful, transformative experience the practice could be instead of the disempowering practice it also could be, about authorization, about teachers trusting their students and supporting students to trust themselves but I can't figure out how to do it in the most diplomatic way. I'm not interested in getting caught up in yoga politics. I am interested in getting on my mat and practicing.

Yoga politics aside, to be this happy, this content, this fully present is something amazing. This has been a transformative year in the most awesome way imaginable.

go coyote go

I always root for the coyotes. Maybe if they could write they'd counter with their own sign reminding us that it is we who are putting their community at risk...

dusk dances

Cold weather arrived this weekend. Saturday afternoon was just cold enough to demand gloves and brilliantly sunny enough to demand we be outside to enjoy it. Happiness is an afternoon at the beach.

sunday

Saturday night started with the symphony and ended with chocolate martinis; moving from calm beauty to laughing chaos. The night didn't bring me home until 4am, so Sunday morning started a lot later than usual.

Sleeping in, silent coffee in cozy couches, yoga, more coffee before heading out to wander the streets with cameras in hand, rainy day pictures, quick stops in Chinatown sweet shops to load up on treats, more wandering in pursuit of wall murals before ducking into another coffee shop, a long conversation with a very drunk man named 'Laslo' who was also very hard to extricate ourselves from, getting lost in time in a bookshop and heading back home to curl up under blankets with good books. There's a lot going on and changes quickly approaching, Sunday was a good day.

saturday

Saturday was a whole lot of perfectly perfect nothing. Taught an early class then went home to change for brunch which didn't end up happening. I meant to go, I'd been looking forward to it, but then I got cozy curled up on the couch, and the floor, and the pillows and the afternoon moved along without me actually leaving my flat.

I can't remember the last time I stayed at home doing nothing but reading and daydreaming. I think it might have been when I was in India. Heaven.

tourists are funny

Taking a picture of some guy taking a picture of some people...

christmas for bookworms

I think our bodies are ill prepared to be sliced open, tampered with and sewn back together. Our collective unconscious just wasn't made for this, it's an experience that hits me at a purely primal level. This time, as with last, my response was to sequester myself in a soft corner of my apartment hidden under piles of blankets and sleep the experience away. Four days of sleep. My body needed deep, deep silence to be still and make sense of what had been done to it.

This being the case, I slept away most of the International Festival of Authors (otherwise known as Christmas for bookworms across the city) including an evening with one of my favourite authors, a woman I'd like to be when I grow up. I did get to the readings for the Very Big Prize on Saturday night. Sitting in the dark having gorgeous stories read to you - what could be better? Nothing, except perhaps this...

Before the readings started a friend was sharing a story about one of our most famous authors who was also the Father of one of the evening's nominees. It was a story about meeting a literary hero only to be disappointed, a story that might have included the word "asshole". Repeated many times. Loudly. As a prelude to introducing the (alleged) asshole's nominated son, the host noted that the (alleged) asshole himself (though she referred to him as 'one of our most beloved authors') was in attendance. When she asked him to stand and make himself known it was the man sitting directly in front of us who rose to his feet. Awesome.

Sleep and laughter, food for the well-stitched but slightly traumatized soul.

In related news. Today I finally started reading the book of one of last year's nominees and I'm absolutely and completely mesmerized by it. It's partly set in Cambodia, a country I loved so much that I left it three times only to turn around and fly right back the very next day. A part of me belonged there, this book transports me back. The Disappeared, read it.