For a couple of months last spring my yoga practice was feeling terrible. Like unpeeling a layer of an onion that was rotten and worn out, my breaking point was when I went to a hot yoga class in Charlotte and could barely do the postures. Knowing that if I stayed in the room, stayed present to what was happening in my body, that these feelings of letting go would all melt into the floor, was all that kept me going. Now I know I was simply avoiding…
This weekend I am taking a yin and yang workshop with Heather Tiddens. In the yin postures we hold them for over five minutes at a time, working deep into the body. Like most challenging postures, I go into the habit of breathing into them, trying to pull out some piece of comfort from the pose. But Heather is asking us to simply feel where we are. To not avoid those feelings or transfer the stress of the posture where we usually do (the shoulders and neck).
Ever since mid-August I feel like everything has been on autopilot. I drive around town from yoga to teaching to career counseling without blinking, maybe stopping for a smoothie for lunch on the way. The only real escape is my music and the mountains, as usual. And it’s not even about there being something wrong with how I am balancing my busy schedule, but there’s a sense that I am not being true to the integrity of the moment. Even now I feel like I’m not getting this written down the way I want it to be. But that’s the struggle.
After that class I got into my car to drive back to my then boyfriend’s house. And for some reason I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t stop thinking about how tired I was of feeling terrible and working through my yoga practice in this way. I wanted to give up. The muscles remember pain and pleasure; they remember car accidents and frightening experiences we had as children. Who knows what I was working through that evening, but I knew right then I was letting go.
I was house sitting this week for some friends who were in San Francisco. On my drive into work I took my eyes off of the winding road and stared up at the trees. It was one of the only breaks in rain we had had in the past week and it was amazing. The way the leaves spread open across the sky and then broke; I was shoved into the present moment.
When I was out in Las Vegas in June visiting my friends, we went on a moonlight hike in the desert. We spent the night in the Valley of Fire, sleeping on red rocks that used to be under the ocean. There are certain ideas associated with expanding or exploring your mind, and in my opinion, it’s avoidance of truly dealing with your authentic self. Bull shit, crap, selfishness, grace, determination and all. All of it.
I don’t know where the balance between dealing with and working with the past truly helps us to be in the present moment, but I do believe that without it, we simply avoid things. Instead of dealing with a nagging injury at the beginning of its pain, we push until it breaks. Without stepping back and healing, scar tissue continues to build and build until we have nothing to work with.
I find myself during this break in the workshop writing in my blog, even now clinging to the idea of my dear friend from Las Vegas being here to practice beside me. To talk to about all this yoga bull shit. But the clinging to the idea is not the problem, because really sitting with those thoughts can assist in discovering why those thoughts come up in the first place. For me, I just miss my friend.
I knew then like I’d known when we first starting dating. I stood there in his kitchen, crying uncontrollably; thinking about how to explain it to him. And I knew he knew, too. But we both wouldn’t pay attention to that nagging and then it broke, again. When you keep retracing an injury it takes time away from it in order to heal. But there’s no point in avoiding the scar tissue created over time. We’ll both have to work through that on our own.
I watch the videos on the DC Tea Party with signs about Burying Obamacare with Kennedy and pictures of Obama with a Hitler mustache (ironically next to a sign about Socialism), and then I hear the commentary about how FoxNews has planted the idea in these folks that we all need to “wake up.” That somehow politics have suddenly all gone wrong. Rarely does a country truly step back and reevaluate the mistakes it’s made, especially when it relies on its ego to control the world. I find myself feeling so angry and ashamed at the country I live in today. We are beyond repair in some ways, but mostly we need healing. And yes, FoxNews, we all have a moral obligation to “wake up,” indeed.
Not to say I live a perfect life. Not to say that I am completely authentic in my everyday actions. I sit here now, finishing up this blog I wrote on Saturday, at work, sick, and feeling the need to stay and complete a responsibility rather than go home and heal. Sitting here, to me, is less of a hassle than telling my boss that I am overwhelmed and overloaded with to dos in my life right now. But instead of feeling bad about it, I’m going to explore it and see what comes up.
It will take a lifetime to explore it all.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
I and You and Love
Whenever I’m not counseling students at my part-time office job, I’m diligently trying not to play facebook scrabble, gchat my best friend in LA about every detail of my life, or flirt with friends online. Yes, it has come to this. Avoiding the unavoidable which I should be able to avoid but don’t. A series of habits upon habits.
My friend sent me a link to a new Avett Brother’s song. I and love and you. I stare at it in my inbox, thinking back to that romantic love I’d feel swimming in my heart when any of my past boyfriends sent me something. That openness.
It’s a fall kind of song because we are getting to that time of year when my alarm goes off on my cell phone and I feel like it’s really a lot earlier than it seems to be. Some mornings are different than others, but I know that that consistency and time is part of the process. Just getting up and moving on.
There are some relationships that keep evolving long after they seem finished. During a break up you generally don’t hear about what’s going on with the person who used to know everything about you. And for right now I’m keeping it that way. And, unfortunately, it won’t be able to stay that way forever.
Sometimes love is misplaced or misguided, sometimes it was never really there, and sometimes you leave it in little spaces among the wreckage. Rarely does it make any sense to pick those pieces back up again.
I guess there’s a current to it all. I’ve been wading, watching, moving in my day today with ease and humor. But when I woke up this morning I felt part of that wreckage move with me, refusing to let go. Each day a new layer unfolds and I see how well things have fallen into place here in Asheville. Build, build, build, break…build again.
And then it all falls away and there’s a stillness to it. A sense of peace that I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s always been there it was just muddled...
My friend sent me a link to a new Avett Brother’s song. I and love and you. I stare at it in my inbox, thinking back to that romantic love I’d feel swimming in my heart when any of my past boyfriends sent me something. That openness.
It’s a fall kind of song because we are getting to that time of year when my alarm goes off on my cell phone and I feel like it’s really a lot earlier than it seems to be. Some mornings are different than others, but I know that that consistency and time is part of the process. Just getting up and moving on.
There are some relationships that keep evolving long after they seem finished. During a break up you generally don’t hear about what’s going on with the person who used to know everything about you. And for right now I’m keeping it that way. And, unfortunately, it won’t be able to stay that way forever.
Sometimes love is misplaced or misguided, sometimes it was never really there, and sometimes you leave it in little spaces among the wreckage. Rarely does it make any sense to pick those pieces back up again.
I guess there’s a current to it all. I’ve been wading, watching, moving in my day today with ease and humor. But when I woke up this morning I felt part of that wreckage move with me, refusing to let go. Each day a new layer unfolds and I see how well things have fallen into place here in Asheville. Build, build, build, break…build again.
And then it all falls away and there’s a stillness to it. A sense of peace that I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s always been there it was just muddled...
Friday, September 4, 2009
New!! YES!! New Post!!
It’s already getting to be fall in Asheville (although people keep swearing to me it’s going to get hot again-so don’t get too excited, Alex) and more and more I feel like change is still an amazing thing.
I find myself driving through downtown Asheville excited at the gap in terrible tourist drivers, cutting through the beer trucks and food delivery vans to get from teaching grammar to yoga to counseling. There’s a beat and a thought to it all.
Finding myself wrapped up in the buildings, in the mountains that surround the buildings, in the idea of Asheville and its constant reinvention. I almost forget about this pulse until I cut through downtown and remember why I live here. Why I’ve stayed here even when the city seems to shrink with acquaintances and the inevitable conversation at GreenLife.
One of my favorite parts about Asheville is there are no real shortcuts. Growing up my family always sought out the most efficient way of doing things. It was celebrated, in fact. The building of the Toll Road to replace the Leesburg Pike was a welcomed change to my dad’s daily commute into D.C. Up there, efficiency was drawn out into perfect turns onto back roads, new shortcuts around the ever-growing town, and an urgency of getting exactly where you needed to be when you needed to be there.
For a long time, even while I was regularly practicing yoga, I would reflect on the past as if it was the meaning of the present. As if it represented how I should be feeling in the moment.
I teach yoga three times a week at a local gym. While training many people warned me that there were NO teaching gigs left in Asheville and that teaching at a gym wasn’t nearly as “yogic” as teaching at a studio. This was of course contradicted by my fellow yoga instructor trainees and the director at the studio. Because if you put anything out into the universe it will, in some form, return back to you. But at some point you’ve even got to let go of that philosophy.
Any philosophy is a trap, really. Just the idea of living a certain way because of past experience is limiting. I often talk about suspending any ideas of what happened on their yoga mat the day or hour or even minute before. Because once we assign all these ideas we are forced to live by them.
There are layers gone just in time for the fall. Just in time for leaves and cool nights and mosquitoes disappearing.
I find myself driving through downtown Asheville excited at the gap in terrible tourist drivers, cutting through the beer trucks and food delivery vans to get from teaching grammar to yoga to counseling. There’s a beat and a thought to it all.
Finding myself wrapped up in the buildings, in the mountains that surround the buildings, in the idea of Asheville and its constant reinvention. I almost forget about this pulse until I cut through downtown and remember why I live here. Why I’ve stayed here even when the city seems to shrink with acquaintances and the inevitable conversation at GreenLife.
One of my favorite parts about Asheville is there are no real shortcuts. Growing up my family always sought out the most efficient way of doing things. It was celebrated, in fact. The building of the Toll Road to replace the Leesburg Pike was a welcomed change to my dad’s daily commute into D.C. Up there, efficiency was drawn out into perfect turns onto back roads, new shortcuts around the ever-growing town, and an urgency of getting exactly where you needed to be when you needed to be there.
For a long time, even while I was regularly practicing yoga, I would reflect on the past as if it was the meaning of the present. As if it represented how I should be feeling in the moment.
I teach yoga three times a week at a local gym. While training many people warned me that there were NO teaching gigs left in Asheville and that teaching at a gym wasn’t nearly as “yogic” as teaching at a studio. This was of course contradicted by my fellow yoga instructor trainees and the director at the studio. Because if you put anything out into the universe it will, in some form, return back to you. But at some point you’ve even got to let go of that philosophy.
Any philosophy is a trap, really. Just the idea of living a certain way because of past experience is limiting. I often talk about suspending any ideas of what happened on their yoga mat the day or hour or even minute before. Because once we assign all these ideas we are forced to live by them.
There are layers gone just in time for the fall. Just in time for leaves and cool nights and mosquitoes disappearing.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Slacker!
Yeah, Yeah.
Nothing new here...
2 years of a blog and each day I slack more and more...
I'm working on my artist flare. Everyone can be an artist as long as they have a blog, right? I mean, as long as I randomly update it, right?
Nothing new here...
2 years of a blog and each day I slack more and more...
I'm working on my artist flare. Everyone can be an artist as long as they have a blog, right? I mean, as long as I randomly update it, right?
Friday, March 6, 2009
Elk River Falls
There’s a falls right outside of Banner Elk and it was one summer, sunny afternoon up in Boone and a couple of us decided to head out to the falls to jump off into the water below. I had no real idea what it was going to look like, or that my friends would freely jump into the water over and over again while I stood at the top, feeling I needed to prove that girls can do it too, my shorts shaking over my bare legs. I’d heard that people have died or been paralyzed by the fall. Something about rocks and cars being at the bottom.
There’s something in the idea of jumping out into nothing for no real good reason. Even when there are talks of how bad things are or how much money there isn’t or what needs to be cut where. And frankly, I’m sick of hearing about it. Now’s the time to be creative. To innovate. To jump.
At least, that’s what I try to tell myself. I keep picturing this sunny, lazy summer here in Asheville, working at some coffee shop or teaching yoga here and there. And it all seems to make sense. Because sometimes you just push and push and push until there isn’t anything to push up against. Until it all dissolves.
And as much as I love Obama and the idea of things getting better, there’s always something to learn from a “severe” recession. Because really, it’s a recess from money. Because really, security is an illusion. So says the girl who is searching for something to bridge the gap between jobs. Who is a constant in ideas of what could happen…because right now is the perfect time to be thinking of the next great idea.
My coworkers got me a book on writing and yoga and I’m teaching a workshop for yoga and intention during one of our career exploration programs. It’s all about setting an intention for your life and goals and acceptance of what is. Because I feel like I’m really struggling with accepting things the way they are right now. I think we all are.
It got to the point where the crowd (yes, there was a crowd of people hanging out and watching us) was counting down for me to jump into the falls below. And I stood, one foot back ready to launch myself into the falls below, the cheers and claps of the crowd muffled by the water. And then I would have done something that cool summer afternoon.
After I didn’t jump, after hours of waiting for a real reason to jump, one of the women from below came up the rocks to tell me: you’ll do it by the end of summer. I just know it. It’ll happen. It didn’t.
There’s something in the idea of jumping out into nothing for no real good reason. Even when there are talks of how bad things are or how much money there isn’t or what needs to be cut where. And frankly, I’m sick of hearing about it. Now’s the time to be creative. To innovate. To jump.
At least, that’s what I try to tell myself. I keep picturing this sunny, lazy summer here in Asheville, working at some coffee shop or teaching yoga here and there. And it all seems to make sense. Because sometimes you just push and push and push until there isn’t anything to push up against. Until it all dissolves.
And as much as I love Obama and the idea of things getting better, there’s always something to learn from a “severe” recession. Because really, it’s a recess from money. Because really, security is an illusion. So says the girl who is searching for something to bridge the gap between jobs. Who is a constant in ideas of what could happen…because right now is the perfect time to be thinking of the next great idea.
My coworkers got me a book on writing and yoga and I’m teaching a workshop for yoga and intention during one of our career exploration programs. It’s all about setting an intention for your life and goals and acceptance of what is. Because I feel like I’m really struggling with accepting things the way they are right now. I think we all are.
It got to the point where the crowd (yes, there was a crowd of people hanging out and watching us) was counting down for me to jump into the falls below. And I stood, one foot back ready to launch myself into the falls below, the cheers and claps of the crowd muffled by the water. And then I would have done something that cool summer afternoon.
After I didn’t jump, after hours of waiting for a real reason to jump, one of the women from below came up the rocks to tell me: you’ll do it by the end of summer. I just know it. It’ll happen. It didn’t.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
I'll Text Ya an Update at 12:15am
There was a time when I swore I would never, ever, ever in a million years get a cell phone, that I would never be the person in the grocery line talking to a friend while checking out, that I would never, ever, ever be that person who checks her cell phone for texts from friends on a constant basis.
Never, ever, ever.
The gobbly gook I sent out last night was a half awake, then promptly falling asleep with my phone open, then an end of a message that read: Imp psuddenly hak?,?. Yes, it has come to this. I sent a text message in my sleep.
Granted, it didn’t make sense. At least the second half. And I sleep with my phone next to me because it doubles as an alarm clock. So really, I was simply finishing the thought I had hours beforehand.
I’m thinking that what I was attempting to text in my sleep was: I’m suddenly half asleep. Really, I could take this statement to mean many things in my life right now. I do, actually, suddenly fall asleep at around 9-9:30pm every night. I set myself up in bed to read or knit and within minutes, I am out.
So this morning when I woke up with my sticky-slept-in-my-mother-fucking-contacts-again eyes, I grabbed the phone thinking I had texted some big secret to my friends. Like some sort of mass text about something crazy going on in my life. Or that there’s absolutely nothing crazy going on in my life so what the hell are you even talking about and why are you texting me at 12:20 in the morning you crazy friend. But to my west coast friends it would only be 9:20. Just about the time I would be falling asleep in the desert in Las Vegas, if I was still there.
My classes got dropped at the community college and my job here ends at the end of May. Budget cuts for education when really we should all be focusing on what matters. Quite an interesting little society we have here.
I’ve explored a couple of options already. Yogaville for the month of June then some summer job here in Asheville. Maybe I’ll save up some money so I can work part time until I start teaching again in the fall. Maybe I’ll actually commit myself to writing more than just in a journal or on a blog. For so long I asked for things to be more flexible in my life, and now it’s here. I wanted to have more time for yoga teacher training and my classes got dropped. It’s a blessing in disguise. Things like that always are.
Never, ever, ever.
The gobbly gook I sent out last night was a half awake, then promptly falling asleep with my phone open, then an end of a message that read: Imp psuddenly hak?,?. Yes, it has come to this. I sent a text message in my sleep.
Granted, it didn’t make sense. At least the second half. And I sleep with my phone next to me because it doubles as an alarm clock. So really, I was simply finishing the thought I had hours beforehand.
I’m thinking that what I was attempting to text in my sleep was: I’m suddenly half asleep. Really, I could take this statement to mean many things in my life right now. I do, actually, suddenly fall asleep at around 9-9:30pm every night. I set myself up in bed to read or knit and within minutes, I am out.
So this morning when I woke up with my sticky-slept-in-my-mother-fucking-contacts-again eyes, I grabbed the phone thinking I had texted some big secret to my friends. Like some sort of mass text about something crazy going on in my life. Or that there’s absolutely nothing crazy going on in my life so what the hell are you even talking about and why are you texting me at 12:20 in the morning you crazy friend. But to my west coast friends it would only be 9:20. Just about the time I would be falling asleep in the desert in Las Vegas, if I was still there.
My classes got dropped at the community college and my job here ends at the end of May. Budget cuts for education when really we should all be focusing on what matters. Quite an interesting little society we have here.
I’ve explored a couple of options already. Yogaville for the month of June then some summer job here in Asheville. Maybe I’ll save up some money so I can work part time until I start teaching again in the fall. Maybe I’ll actually commit myself to writing more than just in a journal or on a blog. For so long I asked for things to be more flexible in my life, and now it’s here. I wanted to have more time for yoga teacher training and my classes got dropped. It’s a blessing in disguise. Things like that always are.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Two Months of Separation!
I think I finally get it. Not it, it. But it. You know. IT.
I was sitting in yoga teacher training yesterday, finishing up a weekend of yoga and potential teachers and training, my hips in gomukasana, feeling some kind of anger for those tight muscles, patiently waiting for them to peel away the layers and layers I build on them everyday. We hide our emotions in our hips. It’s those sneaky corners that sway side-to-side, crease when we sit, and of course the hips are useful for many, many additional adventures.
After having a month off from both of my jobs and traveling home and to Charlottesville over the holidays, I had a lot of time to sit and think. A lot of time to explore Asheville, welcome my good friends to the area, and of course, yoga.
There really is a constant transformation of things. Everyday really is a new day. Something new to support or listen to, something new to explore and take in. Everyday. Even though things are quite hectic right now, I know that I’m in the best place possible.
There’s something very real and true about feeling who you truly are. About feeling your essence, somewhere buried deep down inside. Because we bury it, thinking that at some point we will all dig it up, scoop it out, and sift through the pieces. Like we will have these huge globs of ourselves sitting out on a coffee table. Sometimes it takes a nervous breakdown when people turn fifty; sometimes it takes a lifetime of yoga to really and truly believe in something inside of you.
I do know it doesn’t take a job or an apartment of your own, or close relationships to truly bring these things to the surface. I’m finally really looking forward to becoming a yoga instructor in May. For a while I was just going through the motions, doing my practice and meditation. Not even really serious about meditation. And then it hit me: this is it.
It’s kind of like the tough guy who writes about tough things his whole life, and then all of a sudden he gets his girlfriend or wife pregnant, reacts really scared and weird but excited about it, then ten months later he’s writing sappy, sentimental poetry about his baby’s eyes or the way it’s belly rises and falls as it sleeps. It’s like that. Before I went through this experience I promised myself I wasn’t going to really dive into yoga on my blog, that I didn’t want to become one of those people who talk about peace and inner harmony and appreciating the moment. I pre-judged myself and judged others for attempting to create a culture of happiness and contentment based on something other than material goods. On what’s under the surface of each surface.
In one of the books we read for training, she explains that we come into this world on an inhale and leave on an exhale. If you watch a baby sleeping on its back, its belly pleasantly moves up and down. For adults, we choke our breath into our throats and the top of our lungs, continuing to short ourselves.
I have my students write out their goals for the next couple of years and it’s an exciting time for me to be revising mine. Added are yoga retreats and writing more, because at some point I really do want to write a book. And in the middle of all this energy, knowing that both my contracts for work are up at the end of May, I know that there’s an opportunity in all of this. That Asheville in the summer teaching yoga is going to be amazing. I want to take a trip back out to the desert to see all of my friends and to teach a class at my friend’s house.
And of course it’s all about what you enjoy. For some people it’s watching a football game on a cold Sunday afternoon, or waking up to your son saying “hello” and “echo” to your high ceilings in your new home, or going to the farmer’s market in your new section of your city on a Sunday morning. For me, it’s that discovery.
I was sitting in yoga teacher training yesterday, finishing up a weekend of yoga and potential teachers and training, my hips in gomukasana, feeling some kind of anger for those tight muscles, patiently waiting for them to peel away the layers and layers I build on them everyday. We hide our emotions in our hips. It’s those sneaky corners that sway side-to-side, crease when we sit, and of course the hips are useful for many, many additional adventures.
After having a month off from both of my jobs and traveling home and to Charlottesville over the holidays, I had a lot of time to sit and think. A lot of time to explore Asheville, welcome my good friends to the area, and of course, yoga.
There really is a constant transformation of things. Everyday really is a new day. Something new to support or listen to, something new to explore and take in. Everyday. Even though things are quite hectic right now, I know that I’m in the best place possible.
There’s something very real and true about feeling who you truly are. About feeling your essence, somewhere buried deep down inside. Because we bury it, thinking that at some point we will all dig it up, scoop it out, and sift through the pieces. Like we will have these huge globs of ourselves sitting out on a coffee table. Sometimes it takes a nervous breakdown when people turn fifty; sometimes it takes a lifetime of yoga to really and truly believe in something inside of you.
I do know it doesn’t take a job or an apartment of your own, or close relationships to truly bring these things to the surface. I’m finally really looking forward to becoming a yoga instructor in May. For a while I was just going through the motions, doing my practice and meditation. Not even really serious about meditation. And then it hit me: this is it.
It’s kind of like the tough guy who writes about tough things his whole life, and then all of a sudden he gets his girlfriend or wife pregnant, reacts really scared and weird but excited about it, then ten months later he’s writing sappy, sentimental poetry about his baby’s eyes or the way it’s belly rises and falls as it sleeps. It’s like that. Before I went through this experience I promised myself I wasn’t going to really dive into yoga on my blog, that I didn’t want to become one of those people who talk about peace and inner harmony and appreciating the moment. I pre-judged myself and judged others for attempting to create a culture of happiness and contentment based on something other than material goods. On what’s under the surface of each surface.
In one of the books we read for training, she explains that we come into this world on an inhale and leave on an exhale. If you watch a baby sleeping on its back, its belly pleasantly moves up and down. For adults, we choke our breath into our throats and the top of our lungs, continuing to short ourselves.
I have my students write out their goals for the next couple of years and it’s an exciting time for me to be revising mine. Added are yoga retreats and writing more, because at some point I really do want to write a book. And in the middle of all this energy, knowing that both my contracts for work are up at the end of May, I know that there’s an opportunity in all of this. That Asheville in the summer teaching yoga is going to be amazing. I want to take a trip back out to the desert to see all of my friends and to teach a class at my friend’s house.
And of course it’s all about what you enjoy. For some people it’s watching a football game on a cold Sunday afternoon, or waking up to your son saying “hello” and “echo” to your high ceilings in your new home, or going to the farmer’s market in your new section of your city on a Sunday morning. For me, it’s that discovery.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Don't Quit Your Day Job
It seems like everyday I wake up wondering what's going to be important for that particular day. And for awhile, I hestitated about writing about the newly elected Barack Obama, because most of me didn't even know what to say.
A couple of days after the election my aunt e-mailed some writings about her husband's death over three years ago. She wrote a hello and horay! for Obama and also attached some writings she thought I would enjoy. In her e-mail was the mention of a New York Times article on Albany, Georgia's celebration of Obama's victory.
I remember hearing about Barack Obama years ago from my dear friends who live in Chicago, how political consultants had told him to change at least part of his name in order to be remembered by the United States public. How inspired they had been by all he had done in Chicago. And how far I felt we needed to go in order have him actually elected as president. Actually, elected.
I think I was about twelve when my uncle confessed he had been arrested. In Albany, Georgia, he said. Like my young mind knew much about the civil rights movement and protesting and standing up for what is right. But over time I've learned the impact it's all had on everything. My aunt mentioned how much she wished my uncle had lived to see November 4th.
A couple of weeks ago I printed off my aunt's writings to read and placed them in my bag where I keep all my students papers and yoga books. And tonight, when I was all ready to play around on the internet for hours, I pulled out her writings and began to read. And it was so nice. She was finally sharing how she felt with me. Her writings are honest and refreshing.
I don't know if I'll ever really understand where my immediate family is coming from. I do know that all of these bits and pieces that I am collecting will someday come together to make sense. They have to.
A couple of days after the election my aunt e-mailed some writings about her husband's death over three years ago. She wrote a hello and horay! for Obama and also attached some writings she thought I would enjoy. In her e-mail was the mention of a New York Times article on Albany, Georgia's celebration of Obama's victory.
I remember hearing about Barack Obama years ago from my dear friends who live in Chicago, how political consultants had told him to change at least part of his name in order to be remembered by the United States public. How inspired they had been by all he had done in Chicago. And how far I felt we needed to go in order have him actually elected as president. Actually, elected.
I think I was about twelve when my uncle confessed he had been arrested. In Albany, Georgia, he said. Like my young mind knew much about the civil rights movement and protesting and standing up for what is right. But over time I've learned the impact it's all had on everything. My aunt mentioned how much she wished my uncle had lived to see November 4th.
A couple of weeks ago I printed off my aunt's writings to read and placed them in my bag where I keep all my students papers and yoga books. And tonight, when I was all ready to play around on the internet for hours, I pulled out her writings and began to read. And it was so nice. She was finally sharing how she felt with me. Her writings are honest and refreshing.
I don't know if I'll ever really understand where my immediate family is coming from. I do know that all of these bits and pieces that I am collecting will someday come together to make sense. They have to.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Dear Barack Obama,
I love the feeling of you being President. You are the same skin color black & white. Guess what else? We were both raised by our mom and didn't get to see our dad. We also have grandparent's who have passed on now. I am still young I am ten years old I'm sorry for not introducing myself. You being president elect makes me feel like I can be president someday. Because I am not going to be able to vote for you if you run again but I can vote in two elections. Then when I am 35 I will run. You are going to be great I know. I believe in you. You can do it.
Signed, one of my friend's 5th grade students, Covington, Kentucky, 11/06/08.
Signed, one of my friend's 5th grade students, Covington, Kentucky, 11/06/08.
Friday, October 24, 2008
GO GO GO!
It’s one of those rainy-cold days in Asheville, those days I used to daydream of when it hadn’t rained in months in Las Vegas. It’s all dark and gloomy outside and my office is cave-like today, keeping itself rounded against the rain.
I’m a student again, now. Yoga teacher training started last weekend and really it’s the beginning of something that will never end. And I really like it that way. We all lined up our sticky mats and blankets and learned about anatomy and yoga politics and downdog. At the end of the weekend I didn’t feel like a new person, but at the start of a new journey. Because it’s all one journey after another. Because this is why I moved to Asheville.
Carving out time to practice and meditate daily and read all the yoga books that are out there can be challenging. Sometimes it feels like everything is a means to an end rather than what’s in the moment. I find myself wishing the day away and then not being able to be present on my yoga mat. And that’s what it’s all about, right? Being present in the moment and creating that peace within…
Everyday we dedicate our practice to something. Whether it be to ourselves for healing or some higher power. Because in yoga, god is everything and everywhere. It’s whoever and whatever you want it to be. It transfers through languages and cultures. It recreates the idea of your world. When I was in Las Vegas healing a broken heart, I dedicated my practice to him everyday. And even though we weren’t talking at that point, and things seemed worse than they had ever been, I was finding peace within myself and sending it across the country to him. Because ever since I realized I loved him I couldn’t go back. That love radiated and for awhile, neither of us knew how to handle it. And when you finally do, it is amazing.
Obama spoke in Leesburg a few days ago and my mom e-mailed me that she was thinking about going. I wrote back GO GO GO! Now is the time to GO! When I asked her how it was she e-mailed me that they got there kind of late so he was already speaking but that it went well. Then she mentioned that she and my dad signed up for a yoga class together at the local recreation center. That they were trying to get some friends of theirs to join them.
There are many ways to heal the heart. People travel or meditate and do yoga. Sometimes it takes an amazing conversation over coffee or screaming in your car while driving home from a long day at work. Some people drink themselves silly or write everything out until their hands are sore. For me, it was getting that e-mail.
I’m a student again, now. Yoga teacher training started last weekend and really it’s the beginning of something that will never end. And I really like it that way. We all lined up our sticky mats and blankets and learned about anatomy and yoga politics and downdog. At the end of the weekend I didn’t feel like a new person, but at the start of a new journey. Because it’s all one journey after another. Because this is why I moved to Asheville.
Carving out time to practice and meditate daily and read all the yoga books that are out there can be challenging. Sometimes it feels like everything is a means to an end rather than what’s in the moment. I find myself wishing the day away and then not being able to be present on my yoga mat. And that’s what it’s all about, right? Being present in the moment and creating that peace within…
Everyday we dedicate our practice to something. Whether it be to ourselves for healing or some higher power. Because in yoga, god is everything and everywhere. It’s whoever and whatever you want it to be. It transfers through languages and cultures. It recreates the idea of your world. When I was in Las Vegas healing a broken heart, I dedicated my practice to him everyday. And even though we weren’t talking at that point, and things seemed worse than they had ever been, I was finding peace within myself and sending it across the country to him. Because ever since I realized I loved him I couldn’t go back. That love radiated and for awhile, neither of us knew how to handle it. And when you finally do, it is amazing.
Obama spoke in Leesburg a few days ago and my mom e-mailed me that she was thinking about going. I wrote back GO GO GO! Now is the time to GO! When I asked her how it was she e-mailed me that they got there kind of late so he was already speaking but that it went well. Then she mentioned that she and my dad signed up for a yoga class together at the local recreation center. That they were trying to get some friends of theirs to join them.
There are many ways to heal the heart. People travel or meditate and do yoga. Sometimes it takes an amazing conversation over coffee or screaming in your car while driving home from a long day at work. Some people drink themselves silly or write everything out until their hands are sore. For me, it was getting that e-mail.
Monday, October 13, 2008
I Mean Silly Awesome Great and Gay
If I were sixteen, I would be jumping up and down with them. My feet would be sinking deep into the floor as it stretched below me. And the smile on my face wouldn’t be so hidden by adulthood and awkwardness. Because when you see Of Montreal in concert, there’s a little kid in you that can’t help but dance.
And today I’m tired. But I can’t help but think about how hilarious it is that my best friend woke up to a Jesus fish carved into the side of her green jeep. And that she noticed it on the way to the vet to make sure her cat Delicious was okay. And that now the cat has a cone on her head and keeps running into the wall at her apartment.
After the lead singer of Of Montreal (they are from Athens, GA) dressed in nothing but tight, gold shorts, was painted all red, and then came out in a box covered in foam, he called out: thank you for letting us be ourselves. And it sounds so fucking corny but I really loved it.
I hadn’t been in one place where so many people were so happy and full of energy in a long time. I’m getting a little too used to my day-to-day work and yoga mode where I find myself hidden in lunch breaks in my office and singing in the car on the way from one school to the next. And on top of it all I am starting to freelance career counsel here in Asheville. Because the idea of creating my own career has always appealed to me I’ve just never had the guts to do it.
And even when things aren’t beginning to slow down and I start my yoga teacher training a week from tomorrow, I know that it’s all meant to be chaos. Folded on top of each other and around and never knowing when anything is going to end. And every time I try to stop this motion it cuts me short like a revolving door. Like I should just step in and go, instead of fearfully sticking my fingers out only to get slammed back into me.
And all I can picture is my best friend’s cat in her tiny apartment in LA running around that hardwood floor and sliding into the walls. And then just bouncing right off and back up onto her feet. And it’s hilarious.
Thank you, Delicious, for being yourself.
And today I’m tired. But I can’t help but think about how hilarious it is that my best friend woke up to a Jesus fish carved into the side of her green jeep. And that she noticed it on the way to the vet to make sure her cat Delicious was okay. And that now the cat has a cone on her head and keeps running into the wall at her apartment.
After the lead singer of Of Montreal (they are from Athens, GA) dressed in nothing but tight, gold shorts, was painted all red, and then came out in a box covered in foam, he called out: thank you for letting us be ourselves. And it sounds so fucking corny but I really loved it.
I hadn’t been in one place where so many people were so happy and full of energy in a long time. I’m getting a little too used to my day-to-day work and yoga mode where I find myself hidden in lunch breaks in my office and singing in the car on the way from one school to the next. And on top of it all I am starting to freelance career counsel here in Asheville. Because the idea of creating my own career has always appealed to me I’ve just never had the guts to do it.
And even when things aren’t beginning to slow down and I start my yoga teacher training a week from tomorrow, I know that it’s all meant to be chaos. Folded on top of each other and around and never knowing when anything is going to end. And every time I try to stop this motion it cuts me short like a revolving door. Like I should just step in and go, instead of fearfully sticking my fingers out only to get slammed back into me.
And all I can picture is my best friend’s cat in her tiny apartment in LA running around that hardwood floor and sliding into the walls. And then just bouncing right off and back up onto her feet. And it’s hilarious.
Thank you, Delicious, for being yourself.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Out of Gas
I like myself. I like myself. I like myself. I like myself. I was talking with a friend from Las Vegas last week about how recently I’ve felt really negative. That when I go to yoga I’m only scratching the surface rather than digging in deep. I told him that I was missing Las Vegas and yoga and that hot desert heat.
My classes are cancelled at the local community college here and I’m walking to work at my second job for the rest of the week. It’ll be about a 45 minute walk and I plan on doing a lot of thinking. I’m looking forward to it. Because even though my gas gauge is at about a quarter of a tank and the gas shortage in this area is supposed to clear up by early next week, I figured I would take advantage of a crisis.
In Boston, I used to take the T and walk 20 minutes to work. I’d put my IPod on and listen to music and think about my day. It was nice and refreshing. And now in Asheville it’s officially fall and even the trees are starting to change. And I like being back in that place.
My friend from Las Vegas sent me some motivational CD’s that we listened to as part of training at lululemon. He’s recently re-listened to them and talking to him made me realize what a slump I’ve been in lately. How I need to move and stretch my way out of it. I feel terrific. I feel terrific. I feel terrific.
The truth is, with yoga teacher training in three weeks, and my classes going really well and my career counseling picking back up again, I feel like the world is in a great place. And every time I think about what’s going on outside my mountain bubble, I want to pass what I’m thinking on to them. At least, that’s how I want to believe things are going. And as a result, that’s the truth of how they are going.
Seeing Obama speak in Charlotte this past weekend while visiting him gave me hope again. Even though all weekend I wrestled the idea of another long distance relationship, of driving down the mountain to see him and knowing things are amazing and that we’ve worked our differences out (even though I love a good fight), my habits take shape underneath it all and I can’t help but feel anxious about things. And maybe it’s because my parents haven’t e-mailed me or called since I’ve told them the news, or maybe it’s just an old habit that I tell myself. Because even when you know you deserve love, it doesn’t always feel great when you have to constantly explain yourself to your family. To realize that they’ve never really trusted you to make your own decisions. It’s isolating.
Everyday is new. And what I moved here for, what I’ve been looking forward to, is finally coming up in three weeks. In my yoga classes I keep concentrating on my hips (where emotions are stored), thinking that if I let it out in class that I won’t have to deal with it later. That as soon as I work on my tight hips I’ll be able to have a better relationship with my family. That working on changing that attitude will change things. It’ll open things up…
My classes are cancelled at the local community college here and I’m walking to work at my second job for the rest of the week. It’ll be about a 45 minute walk and I plan on doing a lot of thinking. I’m looking forward to it. Because even though my gas gauge is at about a quarter of a tank and the gas shortage in this area is supposed to clear up by early next week, I figured I would take advantage of a crisis.
In Boston, I used to take the T and walk 20 minutes to work. I’d put my IPod on and listen to music and think about my day. It was nice and refreshing. And now in Asheville it’s officially fall and even the trees are starting to change. And I like being back in that place.
My friend from Las Vegas sent me some motivational CD’s that we listened to as part of training at lululemon. He’s recently re-listened to them and talking to him made me realize what a slump I’ve been in lately. How I need to move and stretch my way out of it. I feel terrific. I feel terrific. I feel terrific.
The truth is, with yoga teacher training in three weeks, and my classes going really well and my career counseling picking back up again, I feel like the world is in a great place. And every time I think about what’s going on outside my mountain bubble, I want to pass what I’m thinking on to them. At least, that’s how I want to believe things are going. And as a result, that’s the truth of how they are going.
Seeing Obama speak in Charlotte this past weekend while visiting him gave me hope again. Even though all weekend I wrestled the idea of another long distance relationship, of driving down the mountain to see him and knowing things are amazing and that we’ve worked our differences out (even though I love a good fight), my habits take shape underneath it all and I can’t help but feel anxious about things. And maybe it’s because my parents haven’t e-mailed me or called since I’ve told them the news, or maybe it’s just an old habit that I tell myself. Because even when you know you deserve love, it doesn’t always feel great when you have to constantly explain yourself to your family. To realize that they’ve never really trusted you to make your own decisions. It’s isolating.
Everyday is new. And what I moved here for, what I’ve been looking forward to, is finally coming up in three weeks. In my yoga classes I keep concentrating on my hips (where emotions are stored), thinking that if I let it out in class that I won’t have to deal with it later. That as soon as I work on my tight hips I’ll be able to have a better relationship with my family. That working on changing that attitude will change things. It’ll open things up…
Monday, September 8, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
Time, time, time...
Part of me almost wants to congratulate all those that said the economy was going to shit. Say: “you were right!” with a big applause. Tell them that they knew things were unstable and on a shaky ground and thank you for being practical and warning us all about the end of our economy as we know it.
Then I think about the rash of friends who have recently been laid off. And there really has been a rash of them. For one reason or another, whether it be budget cuts or new hiring, as well as the company closing down altogether. And part of me wants to feel more appreciative of the opportunities created here in Asheville, and another part of me wants to rework the whole system. No jobs, no forty hour a work week, no idea of a career, but just living and being. I moved here knowing Asheville could provide that feeling for me. That that lifestyle existed here. There are still many realities in the world that you envision. And not all of these realities are negative.
I always wonder if the person moving and talking out in my world is the same one that I see inside, from behind it all. Like when he tells me I don’t communicate how I feel to him or that I have a hard time demonstrating my appreciation, I immediately think of my family and how often I feel that glare. There’s so much of that mixed in with the misunderstandings between my mom and me. Because for me, there’s that extra pause of anxiety before telling someone I love them.
Right now I’m teaching at a local community college. My three classes are all very different, and my goals in teaching them are to help them realize their potential. Sounds corny and lame, and for some of them it takes a lot of effort to sit still and not fall asleep at eight in the morning. And for a little while, I was getting frustrated at some of the lack of response in my classroom. And then I realized, it wasn’t them, it was me. I was searching for validation from the wrong source. We all have to know we are doing a good job at whatever we are doing, and that we are all contributing to something greater than ourselves. And that idea doesn’t have to be thought about everyday, but can easily be tucked away under thoughts of the day.
There’s this constant struggle with myself as a writer. Some of my friends from college have given up on writing. They say it’s the best thing they’ve ever done. And when I think about what I really want to do and what I’m doing now, there’s constant thoughts of what could happen. It’s like I’m still working towards feeling satisfied and balanced in my life. I do it everyday.
Then I think about the rash of friends who have recently been laid off. And there really has been a rash of them. For one reason or another, whether it be budget cuts or new hiring, as well as the company closing down altogether. And part of me wants to feel more appreciative of the opportunities created here in Asheville, and another part of me wants to rework the whole system. No jobs, no forty hour a work week, no idea of a career, but just living and being. I moved here knowing Asheville could provide that feeling for me. That that lifestyle existed here. There are still many realities in the world that you envision. And not all of these realities are negative.
I always wonder if the person moving and talking out in my world is the same one that I see inside, from behind it all. Like when he tells me I don’t communicate how I feel to him or that I have a hard time demonstrating my appreciation, I immediately think of my family and how often I feel that glare. There’s so much of that mixed in with the misunderstandings between my mom and me. Because for me, there’s that extra pause of anxiety before telling someone I love them.
Right now I’m teaching at a local community college. My three classes are all very different, and my goals in teaching them are to help them realize their potential. Sounds corny and lame, and for some of them it takes a lot of effort to sit still and not fall asleep at eight in the morning. And for a little while, I was getting frustrated at some of the lack of response in my classroom. And then I realized, it wasn’t them, it was me. I was searching for validation from the wrong source. We all have to know we are doing a good job at whatever we are doing, and that we are all contributing to something greater than ourselves. And that idea doesn’t have to be thought about everyday, but can easily be tucked away under thoughts of the day.
There’s this constant struggle with myself as a writer. Some of my friends from college have given up on writing. They say it’s the best thing they’ve ever done. And when I think about what I really want to do and what I’m doing now, there’s constant thoughts of what could happen. It’s like I’m still working towards feeling satisfied and balanced in my life. I do it everyday.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Pour a little salt we were never here...
I can still remember the smell of the hardwood floors underneath my sister's bed. The dust that hadn't moved in weeks. The feeling of hiding there in hopes of being gone forever. Of just disappearing for awhile.
I'm in Philadelphia with my family celebrating my sister's 30th birthday. Things are patched up for now, hidden under what my parents really want me to do and how I envision my life. We don't talk about yoga teacher training, but details are asked about my new jobs in my field. And I do feel good about it, but not for any of the reasons they do.
When the topic of parking in the Charlotte airport is discussed, I mention that I got a ride and the conversation stops. It's how I've always felt-frustrated and on the verge of telling the truth. But sometimes it's easier to be casual. And easy seems like the better choice.
Growing up I always knew I would leave the D.C. area and driving in last night to go to Bon Iver show, I realized even more why I left that area of the world. I felt stuck. And being alone at a show makes you take in the noise even more. Makes you hear the chatter below his soft, high voice. Wondering too where he's going to go from here. Whether heartbreak in the woods of Wisconsin should become popular. Whether things like his music should be felt in a room full of people asking for skinny love or another beer. And the whole time I wondered how he felt about that.
Eventually everyone is found. My mom stepped next to me under my sister's bed, angry at me for snapping the leg off of one of her old dolls. Talking about not knowing if there was a place to fix it in town. Then hearing how much it hurt her to have me break this doll from her childhood. And then watching it sit on the shelf in her closet for years, wondering when she was going to get around to fixing it.
I'm in Philadelphia with my family celebrating my sister's 30th birthday. Things are patched up for now, hidden under what my parents really want me to do and how I envision my life. We don't talk about yoga teacher training, but details are asked about my new jobs in my field. And I do feel good about it, but not for any of the reasons they do.
When the topic of parking in the Charlotte airport is discussed, I mention that I got a ride and the conversation stops. It's how I've always felt-frustrated and on the verge of telling the truth. But sometimes it's easier to be casual. And easy seems like the better choice.
Growing up I always knew I would leave the D.C. area and driving in last night to go to Bon Iver show, I realized even more why I left that area of the world. I felt stuck. And being alone at a show makes you take in the noise even more. Makes you hear the chatter below his soft, high voice. Wondering too where he's going to go from here. Whether heartbreak in the woods of Wisconsin should become popular. Whether things like his music should be felt in a room full of people asking for skinny love or another beer. And the whole time I wondered how he felt about that.
Eventually everyone is found. My mom stepped next to me under my sister's bed, angry at me for snapping the leg off of one of her old dolls. Talking about not knowing if there was a place to fix it in town. Then hearing how much it hurt her to have me break this doll from her childhood. And then watching it sit on the shelf in her closet for years, wondering when she was going to get around to fixing it.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
There's the building and the breaking and the building...
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.
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.
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...
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