There's a certain sense that when you are driving up to the mountains, to where you've done days and days of driving and moving to get to, that there's no way that this small city is really it. That if I somehow keep driving I'll find somewhere hidden and new. That the journey just keeps continuing.
I talked to one of my good friends today who is moving down here from Chicago at the end of the year. We talked about writing and careers and feeling like what you are doing is making sense in being a part of this world. I felt like she was right next door already, and that things and time had just passed. That I was going over to her place to have dinner with her husband and baby boy. That now both my friends from Chicago were back to go on hikes and start a garden in their backyard. It's so weird how things feel that way sometimes.
There was the beautiful Colorado River while in Arizona, green against red, and the poverty across the whole country and into Yukon, Oklahoma, birthplace of Garth Brooks. And a mule ride on the north ridge of the Grand Canyon. And moving away from this strange place that I called home for a year, and into a new place that I'd always seen as my home. I want to shout to everyone I see, including the CVS girl who tells me she's had too much candy at the checkout counter, or the snobby checkout girl at the overpriced downtown green grocery store: "I'm here to do something amazing!" I promise. "I'm getting started tomorrow!" And that's here now.
Getting used to things, even final things, is an adjustment. After being with friends driving across the country and then in Boone and Charlotte I just can't seem to quite adjust. I don't know the yoga instructors and everything is so new again. So I wonder why I'm doing this, again. Why it matters so much to me to be here.
And it's that question of what you do when you get to the end of a journey. I guess you just start a new one.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
This Fucking Yogini is Eastbound...
Tomorrow night my friend from Kentucky is flying into Las Vegas and my other friend is driving in from L.A. We are going to one last celebration and one last yoga class before my Kentucky friend and I drive back east. I haven't written on this blog in over a month and I really don't know why. I guess real things just caught up to me. And now I'm leaving Las Vegas on Monday, headed for those North Carolina mountains.
I signed up for yoga teacher training which starts in October in Asheville, NC. I've always talked about it and now I'm finally going. It's a whole new chapter and experience. Beginning with a mule ride across the north ridge of the Grand Canyon and ending with the 4th of July in Boone. I will be spending time with friends in the mountains. Because the more I think about it, the more I realize that the lifestyle that was laid out for me at birth is not the lifestyle that I am going to live.
I spent one of my last nights in Vegas on a moonlight hike in Red Rock Canyon. We stayed up all night on those rocks and watched the sun come up over that red-orange sky. I feel like I've spent my time here well. And I know I will miss the friends I have made here. I always do. There are amazing people everywhere, it's just a matter of finding the ones you love and staying with that.
There's a million reasons not to go. I just moved out here, the economy is not doing as well as usual, gas prices are high, I don't have a job yet, my health insurance will run out at the end of the month, etc. So maybe just a couple of reasons.
Growing up, I always thought my relationship with my parents would get easier the older I got. But it just hasn't. They were so angry at me for creating my life out here in Las Vegas, and now they don't understand my decision to move back east. In my mom's eyes, I am being irresponsible. She told me over the phone that I can't always follow my dreams. I can't imagine ever giving that up, especially at 26. Explaining that each new experience leads to the next, that compassion and acceptance are easier than judgement and opposition, is lost when it comes to parent-child relationships in my family. We have never seen eye to eye. And it has cost us our relationship. And at this point I don't know what to do about it. I don't expect my mom to change, but I do know who one of my very first students will be.
I'm under the belief that yoga is the key to challenging everything you've ever thought about in your life. It's the key to happiness and love and all that corny bullshit that we constantly shy away from in life. To peace and change. I believe opposition to yoga is the idea that life is harder than we think and that faith cannot carry us to a happy place. I believe that following one's dreams is always the path and daily yoga and meditation are key to figuring out the lifestyle that you want to lead.
I'm hoping to find peace with my parents. To continue to forgive and remember the things that amaze me about them. My mom's unending worry and love for her family. Her belief in my talents to do something amazing in this world. My dad's ability to pass no judgement. His talent for knowing and learning. When I picture my parents, who they really are, my mom is walking our dog Liza on the side street in the morning. My dad is out in the garden in a torn old t-shirt taking care of each and every plant. One is in the morning, just after the sun breaks, and there's that fog falling all over the road. The other is in the late afternoon on a Saturday, the sun starting to set slowly over the trees I used to hide behind when I was a child.
I signed up for yoga teacher training which starts in October in Asheville, NC. I've always talked about it and now I'm finally going. It's a whole new chapter and experience. Beginning with a mule ride across the north ridge of the Grand Canyon and ending with the 4th of July in Boone. I will be spending time with friends in the mountains. Because the more I think about it, the more I realize that the lifestyle that was laid out for me at birth is not the lifestyle that I am going to live.
I spent one of my last nights in Vegas on a moonlight hike in Red Rock Canyon. We stayed up all night on those rocks and watched the sun come up over that red-orange sky. I feel like I've spent my time here well. And I know I will miss the friends I have made here. I always do. There are amazing people everywhere, it's just a matter of finding the ones you love and staying with that.
There's a million reasons not to go. I just moved out here, the economy is not doing as well as usual, gas prices are high, I don't have a job yet, my health insurance will run out at the end of the month, etc. So maybe just a couple of reasons.
Growing up, I always thought my relationship with my parents would get easier the older I got. But it just hasn't. They were so angry at me for creating my life out here in Las Vegas, and now they don't understand my decision to move back east. In my mom's eyes, I am being irresponsible. She told me over the phone that I can't always follow my dreams. I can't imagine ever giving that up, especially at 26. Explaining that each new experience leads to the next, that compassion and acceptance are easier than judgement and opposition, is lost when it comes to parent-child relationships in my family. We have never seen eye to eye. And it has cost us our relationship. And at this point I don't know what to do about it. I don't expect my mom to change, but I do know who one of my very first students will be.
I'm under the belief that yoga is the key to challenging everything you've ever thought about in your life. It's the key to happiness and love and all that corny bullshit that we constantly shy away from in life. To peace and change. I believe opposition to yoga is the idea that life is harder than we think and that faith cannot carry us to a happy place. I believe that following one's dreams is always the path and daily yoga and meditation are key to figuring out the lifestyle that you want to lead.
I'm hoping to find peace with my parents. To continue to forgive and remember the things that amaze me about them. My mom's unending worry and love for her family. Her belief in my talents to do something amazing in this world. My dad's ability to pass no judgement. His talent for knowing and learning. When I picture my parents, who they really are, my mom is walking our dog Liza on the side street in the morning. My dad is out in the garden in a torn old t-shirt taking care of each and every plant. One is in the morning, just after the sun breaks, and there's that fog falling all over the road. The other is in the late afternoon on a Saturday, the sun starting to set slowly over the trees I used to hide behind when I was a child.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Knee Poem
It is almost like
I am perching
or like a kickstand
but it doesn't hold me up
just separates.
Ever since I can remember
it's been one knee out
like tree pose
only laying down
just to make space.
It's a habit I only broke once
for a couple of months
while we slept
knees into knees
just for a little while.
That first night you were gone
I lifted my knee up
like a warrior
defending myself
just because.
I had extra space
the length of my thigh
is what I gave you
muscles, blood, skin
just for you.
I am perching
or like a kickstand
but it doesn't hold me up
just separates.
Ever since I can remember
it's been one knee out
like tree pose
only laying down
just to make space.
It's a habit I only broke once
for a couple of months
while we slept
knees into knees
just for a little while.
That first night you were gone
I lifted my knee up
like a warrior
defending myself
just because.
I had extra space
the length of my thigh
is what I gave you
muscles, blood, skin
just for you.
Monday, April 21, 2008
I Love Beards! Yes, Beards!
To all of the places that I have known. To all of the places that I have known. To all of the places that I have known. To all of the places that I have known!
I have this visualization of my best friend sitting in first chair next to her rival saxophone player, the heavy brass instrument hanging beside her. He only got to be first chair about twice during middle school, because everyday after school she was forced to practice for two hours to keep that chair. To keep that passion of music. And then when high school came she divided her time between drama after school and marching band before. After graduating from college she moved to New York City and then L.A. to pursue a career in acting. She left that saxophone in her parents house in Virginia.
About a month or two ago when she finally gave up her dreams of being an actress, she started a music blog (it's linked underneath my faded beach picture, selectbypush) and started writing music reviews for popmatters.com. She also got an internship at a record label to really start getting into the business. Her blog is all about the bands that are going to be at Coachella, where we are meeting in a couple of days.
I don't feel like she's really giving anything up, actually. And for her, music never really went away. She's just rediscovering her passion for it. She's brought out that old saxophone and she's finally starting to play it in front of people.
It is called Bunkerhill Saloon and it's on the outskirts of downtown old Vegas. It's basically on a street of apartment complexes and I think as we pull up that we could discover another side of Vegas tonight. When we walk in the opening band is still playing and a couple people are dancing at this old bar and I see beards and flannel shirts and I think: this really could be something. I'm immediately in North Carolina, but this lasts about twenty minutes.
By the time Akron/Family sets up their equipment themselves, half the crowd is drunk or has left. There's about ten of us who are really interested in what's going on and as they begin to play some ass hole by the bar yells: "you suck!" The bass player gladly dedicates their set to him before the second song. It's just three of them, and they are loud, folk, electric, and amazing. I think I'll leave the music writing to my best friend and my roommate, but it truly was one of the best shows I've ever been to. It was seven bucks, a couple of PBR's, and a reminder of how important music is to me in my life.
After the show we tell them what a great job they did, my roommate buys a t-shirt and we say we'll see them at Coachella this weekend. Thursday night we are heading out to the campground after my roommate gets off of work. I was going to go into work an hour early today to get the schedule ready for when our manager gets back into town. We've had a couple of people quit recently, so I've already got to adjust the schedule accordingly. I'll never really know what makes people tick or how people find what they are passionate about, but I feel like something is tilting in my life, spilling over.
I'm already late sitting here writing this blog. I think I'll stay and keep listening to music with my patio door open. I think I'll go into work when I'm supposed to and know that I can get it done later. For right now, I just want to hang out and enjoy some music and think about this weekend...
I have this visualization of my best friend sitting in first chair next to her rival saxophone player, the heavy brass instrument hanging beside her. He only got to be first chair about twice during middle school, because everyday after school she was forced to practice for two hours to keep that chair. To keep that passion of music. And then when high school came she divided her time between drama after school and marching band before. After graduating from college she moved to New York City and then L.A. to pursue a career in acting. She left that saxophone in her parents house in Virginia.
About a month or two ago when she finally gave up her dreams of being an actress, she started a music blog (it's linked underneath my faded beach picture, selectbypush) and started writing music reviews for popmatters.com. She also got an internship at a record label to really start getting into the business. Her blog is all about the bands that are going to be at Coachella, where we are meeting in a couple of days.
I don't feel like she's really giving anything up, actually. And for her, music never really went away. She's just rediscovering her passion for it. She's brought out that old saxophone and she's finally starting to play it in front of people.
It is called Bunkerhill Saloon and it's on the outskirts of downtown old Vegas. It's basically on a street of apartment complexes and I think as we pull up that we could discover another side of Vegas tonight. When we walk in the opening band is still playing and a couple people are dancing at this old bar and I see beards and flannel shirts and I think: this really could be something. I'm immediately in North Carolina, but this lasts about twenty minutes.
By the time Akron/Family sets up their equipment themselves, half the crowd is drunk or has left. There's about ten of us who are really interested in what's going on and as they begin to play some ass hole by the bar yells: "you suck!" The bass player gladly dedicates their set to him before the second song. It's just three of them, and they are loud, folk, electric, and amazing. I think I'll leave the music writing to my best friend and my roommate, but it truly was one of the best shows I've ever been to. It was seven bucks, a couple of PBR's, and a reminder of how important music is to me in my life.
After the show we tell them what a great job they did, my roommate buys a t-shirt and we say we'll see them at Coachella this weekend. Thursday night we are heading out to the campground after my roommate gets off of work. I was going to go into work an hour early today to get the schedule ready for when our manager gets back into town. We've had a couple of people quit recently, so I've already got to adjust the schedule accordingly. I'll never really know what makes people tick or how people find what they are passionate about, but I feel like something is tilting in my life, spilling over.
I'm already late sitting here writing this blog. I think I'll stay and keep listening to music with my patio door open. I think I'll go into work when I'm supposed to and know that I can get it done later. For right now, I just want to hang out and enjoy some music and think about this weekend...
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Blogaversary.
One year ago I started this crazy thing. So I officially know exactly what I was doing a year ago today. Whole Foods, gas prices (75 cents cheaper), Virginia Tech shootings, going to work, the way the weather felt that day, listening to Wilco, going to coffee.
Honestly, I'm just having a weird day. But I wanted to write because it's been one year and it's weird. Just having a blog and writing about myself is weird.
Honestly, I'm just having a weird day. But I wanted to write because it's been one year and it's weird. Just having a blog and writing about myself is weird.
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