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.

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.

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.

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.

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.