Busy like bees

Teach a class. Make a bed. Paperwork. Doctor's Appointment. ZUMBA class. Overtime at work. Kid's soccer practise. Make dinner. Eat dinner. Pack lunches. Grocery Shopping. Meeting. P/U something important.  The song "Flight of the Bumblebee" is the the theme song for today's culture. Run faster, get more done. Flit here.  Fly there.  Never really be present anywhere.
I volunteered for a school trip to the zoo, and in my group were 5 boisterous boys.  They bounced, hopped, ran and jumped excitedly from one animal to the next, so excited they were to see as much as they could.  When we got to Stingray Bay, they changed. One look into the tank full of stingrays and sharks (which they could pet, I might add) and the boys were different. Their little hands reached in gently to touch the animals as they swam by and their excited voices explained each experience to anyone who would listen. They stood still, rooted by this unique experience, remaining captivated by the opportunity to share this moment with these incredible animals.
I have often wondered what the huge attraction is with yoga. Now don't get me wrong, I love yoga - and as a long time yogini, I believe in it's power and effectiveness - especially in cleansing the spiritual and emotional being. But, why, on earth - do we pay for the opportunity to lay on an uncomfortable mat with a bunch of strangers? 
I suspect it because we seek an opportunity to be still. To be present, without distraction, and to enjoy that exact second in time. To record it, and store it up for when life becomes hectic and overwhelming, as it too often does. Those boys at the zoo still have the skills that are born into us all - to stop everything, and just enjoy.  They went from 110mph to stillness - without guilt - only true, in the moment, don't want to miss a thing enjoyment.
That's why we go to yoga - to be in stillness - to be forced to look within ourselves, to be present, and to bathe in the quiet, in the studio, and eventually as we become more practised, in our heads. 
Breathe deep. Close your eyes. Be grateful for the life you have. And try not to be so busy that you miss it.
Namaste!

Confronting yourself.

I always try and look for the beauty in everything and everyone. I love looking people in the eye. I think it is the greatest compliment you can pay someone to acknowledge that you see them, and aren't just looking at them.  Strangely, though, I notice that I do not accord the same respect to myself.  It is with criticism and hardness that I view my own self, and rarely do I have the guts to look myself straight in the eyes.  I suspect that this is not a phenomenom solely invented by me.  I know that we are trained now to strive for an ideal, and less or more than that results in a harsh personal conversation.
I have been doing yoga this past week. Hot yoga. I find that yoga is the perfect balance for me to find peace in mind and body.  But the yoga studio has mirrors. BIG mirrors. Big, shiny, recently cleaned to a spotless state with Windex mirrors. I am standing in tree pose, and as usual I choose to gaze ahead and pick a focal point on my tummy in the mirror. My large and rapidly growing with each second round and jiggly tummy. My eyes fill with horror as I create the amazing growing person right before my eyes. The horror!  I look sneakily around at the other class participants to see if they have noticed that I am now twice the size that I started the class at. My concentration (already in peril) is now shot and I break the pose, stepping out. I glance at myself in the mirror, phew!! Temporarily restored to merely squishy, and jiggly, a state I can handle. 
How ridiculous, that merely looking at one's tummy can cause someone to pick apart, criticize and blow out of proportion each little imperfection, each tiny flaw, instead of seeing what was good in the mirror.
We flow into my favourite pose - Dancer's Pose - and I set my gaze ahead.  Somehow I was aligned to look directly into my own eyes, and I realized with fascination, that they are blue. And bright. And that I could look into them and see things. I can see the smile creases around my eyes (aka wrinkles). I can see 30 something (ha - I'm not spilling my real age) years of life and love reflected there. And when I widen my gaze, I see the best Dancers pose I have ever done.  Chest lifted proudly, back leg kicking strongly back and reaching towards my head.  Balance leg strong, firm, and rooted in to the mat.  Superb!  So for the rest of the class I made sure to look straight ahead and confront myself, just as I am. Sweaty. Imperfect. And freaking amazing. After all, this body puts up with me every day. The least I can do is love it. 

Hello, Sweet Pea!!

Nature puts everything into perspective. It humbles us with its strength. It shames us with it's fragility. It makes our eyes widen with awe when we stop and recognize it's beauty.  Nature assaults the senses, and every day it reminds us that miracles can happen.
Now, I haven't blogged in a while.  I expected to be full of words to share after my succesful 8K run.  None came (I know - a rare miracle, for sure!) I couldn't find any inspiration to share with you all. Not even a funny story, or quirky tale to pass along. Truth is, I've been in a little bit of a funk.  Post run, I felt exhilarated and proud, and then nothing.  My last week has run something like this: Daughter with reaction to bug bite. Son away for four days, and I felt a little like I had lost a part of me. Husband is working unpredictable and long hours.  Some sadness and tension in my workplace. Uncertainty about the future.  Saying goodbye to people as many of my classes wrap up for the summer.  The  fear of the financial drain during these lean summer months. No sleep.  The feeling of my knee swelling up while teaching a class, and worrying that this injury would impact my ability to meet my own fitness goals, and to continue helping other people to achieve theirs.  And I have given up Diet Coke. Almost two days now.  I have felt grumpy, irritable, sad, hopeless and (I may have already mentioned this) GRUMPY!! I have just felt completely out of sorts. 
This afternoon I decided that I would do some yard work and discovered that underneath my overlong lawn, that there was a veritable jungle of weeds. The baskets that I worked so hard on are dying a slow death, despite the fact that they look so gorgeous from inside my house. Every living thing in my yard was crying for attention.  Did I mention we are having a big party in 6 weeks??  The lawn looks like a replica of the Sahara Desert, except the desert is more green and lush.  In pure frustration, I sat down in the middle of my backyard and spent some time screaming silently inside. Where were all the beautiful flowers whose seeds I planted last month??  Where? I cried, in silent anguish, where?? Why me?? (yes I am sometimes THAT dramatic)  So I plugged in my lawn mower and went at the depressing task of trimming this wasteland of plant life.  I bent down to pull out a weed and realized that it was actually a real plant. One of the seeds I had planted. And then I noticed another. And another.  Sweet Peas!!  Some perspective was to be had here. A challenging week  - yes.  Reasons to feel less than perfect  - sure.  Tragic and life changing - nope.  Through all the tangle and trauma that is the environment known as my backyard, some beauty has managed to grow, miraculously.  So am I all better now - did the sweet pea change my entire outlook on my poopy week? Not at all. But it did give me something beautiful to look forward to.

Just Breathe

Last weekend I grudgingly donned my IPod and Skechers and headed out on a run. I am running an 8K dash for Camp Oochigeas this Sunday and the July Duathlon is fast approaching, so whether I like it or not, I have to start logging some miles. I love exercise, but truthfully, running is not my thing.  I enjoy doing it with other people, but on my own I have the attention span of a gnat, and a negative voice in my head that screams at me constantly.  While I have had some moments of enjoyment during my solo runs this spring, they have been few and far between. Mostly it's a battle.
So I had not even bothered to psyche myself up before this run, resigned to the fact that likely it would hurt, would bore me and I would come home sweaty but dissatisfied.  And so I set out.
It was a beautiful day - idyllic almost, with the lilac bushes in full bloom along the side of the road, the sound of lawns being mowed, the laughter of children happy to be finally playing outside. The IPod was spewing favourite songs that were helping me pick up my aching feet.
I love Grey's Anatomy. I feel like Meredith Grey, the main character, and I have lots of common ground.  I have had plenty of times in my life when I have been, "dark and twisty" as Meredith has described herself. I have a complicated relationship with my mother. I have my own McDreamy knight in shining whatever (although mine is WAY better) who has stood by me through thick and thin. I have dug myself out of bad situations and have risen from the ashes of my own self destruction.  So it's probably no surprise that there are lots of amazing  tunes from the show on my IPod, and that I identify lots of my own major life experiences in the words and music. I've often laughed that it could be my own personal soundtrack. 
I was running down a country road, contemplating the deep mysteries of life. Actually I was not so quietly cursing and complaining about my aching legs, but I digress.  One of my favourite songs came on, and it made me laugh. I love irony, and the song is called Just Breathe - something which I was struggling with at that moment in time.
I powered on, enjoying the freedom of running, with the song infusing itself into my pores. I felt that song, right at that moment, and turned my chin up towards the sun.  Spreading my arms out to the sides to feel the air rush past my sweaty arms, I felt free. It seems so cliched, but I have spent much of my life wondering who I am.  And the answer to that is varied, often complicated and often simple. But at the heart of me is that girl, running free and strong down the road towards the next challenge. Full of joy and life. A survivor. Dark and twisty no more, I am happy now to just breathe.