Monday, February 28, 2011

There are no friends on powder days.

There is an adage as old as swiss mountaineers and their long wooden skis, as old as the chairlift at Whitewater, as old as neon ski suits and Glenn Plake's mohawk. There are no friends on powder days.

In a small mountain town (henceforth referred to as SMT) powder days are like an epidemic. There is an electricity in the air, a buzz through the town. Signs on storefronts read "gone skiing be back...". There are distinctly fewer tucks on the main streets, an eerie silence fills the lanes . No one is getting their coffees, kids aren't in school. There are a few more tire tracks leading out of town than on, say, a non-powder day. It is what is on every one's lips, "30 cm's last night and I hear there's more in the forecast".

Arriving at the ski hill of an SMT on a powder day is like nothing I have ever experienced. At least not on a powder day like this one. Now I am a girl of the west folk. I have seen my fair share of storms having spent a good six winters in Fernie. I have crossed passes where I could barely see past the hood of my car, grew up in Calgary where we have been known to laugh at Vancouverites when they 'get snow'. I was born skiing powder. I hadn't seen this kind before.

Needless to say, when it snows in an SMT everyone knows. The parking lots are filled, on a Monday, before the lift is even grumbling to a start. Doesn't anyone work in this town? Doesn't anyone go to school? Strange, even to me, was the way each vehicle in the lot had their windshield wipers pulled up off the windows, standing at attention, tiny lightning rods for the static electricity in the air, the excitement. This means a dump. As I anxiously pulled on my boots in the lodge I could hear everyone talking about the last time they had seen this much snow.  I could feel all the hairs on the back of my neck rise up. I needed to get out there. As I waited in line listening to others recount their first runs I got goosebumps. My first run, until my last today, were simply epic. Boot to thigh deep powder gave me the incentive and the confidence to ski my heart out, "Hey dad, is the landing off that lip good things or bad things?" (bad things = the quintessential Canadian landscape, rocks and trees and trees and rocks, good things = more snow).  My smile got bigger with each race to the lift. The lactic acid burning in my thighs usually means slow down, take a break, today meant ski harder, the faster you go the sooner you get to sit on the chair, the sooner you get to go again. My exhilaration was echoed in everyone else. Men and women who 30 years ago were young retirees like my Dad ripped just as hard as the 3 and 4 year olds, the 16 year old boys in their baggy jackets and coveted headphones. Everyone just wanted to be out there, be part of the action.

The end of the day was the culmination of everything good about a SMT powder day. It started snowing harder, then harder, even harder. Simply riding the lift got a good cm of accumulation on boots, skis, helmets and any other horizontal surface. Each of those last runs we made first tracks. Each time we came back our sweeping turns and long descents were covered by more champagne powder. Needless to say the visibility was minimal. This was the truly magical part. The best way to discern who was around you was simply to listen. The woods, the valleys, the peaks, were all filled with a menagerie of the happiest, whooping, whistling, yee-hawing creatures imaginable. Everyone was having more fun than I think might be legally allowed on a Monday afternoon.

So, after all these years, perhaps even centuries, I must disagree with the idea that there are no friends on powder days. It might be possible that like the tree that makes no sound if no one is around to hear it fall, there is  no true powder day in an SMT if there is no one to share it with. Sure you might not be sticking with the whole crew but there will always be that person you can ask, "Hey, is the landing off that lip good things or bad things?", or exclaim, panting as you slide on to the lift of questionable safety, "epic. Really epic." Or, those wild beasts in the woods worshipping Ullr with their hoots and hollers as the wind through the trees and knee deep snow. We are all friends on powder days.




Sunday, February 27, 2011

Home.


The time we take for ourselves is precious. The time we take simply to do what moves us. To think, act, and maybe more importantly, to react at a speed unlike what we are used to. This is what fills me up. This is what soothes the hurt, the abrasive exhaustion that catches up without notice like a mountain cat, silently stalking. 

I am a city girl. No doubt about it. I once brazenly moved home from a small mountain town in part because there weren't any particularly wonderful coffee shops and nothing was open after 9 pm. That being said it is the mountains that are what inspire me most, I simply prefer to have my cake and eat it too. The best of all worlds. The hustle of the city has been my driving force, since last June, I have felt like a tile puzzle, always manipulating reality to squeeze one more bit of space, sliver of time into my life and getting worn down, spread too thin, in the process. I needed to stop. The mountains and the values and pace of life that drive those who live in them are the precious counter weight to a life lived too fast. Right now I am lavishing the luxury of small mountain town life. The most strenuous and necessary part of our day is getting drinking water from a pipe in the side of the mountain we live on. Parking is under a buck for 2 hours. People take time to chat to you in the grocery line. You can get a rice milk latte anywhere. Simply Perfect. My days are spent reading, going for coffee, running along our quiet lane, and skiing powder from the oldest working ski lift in North America. Life is slow. Life is good. 

I am startled with joy each morning when my emails consist solely of Facebook messages and Anthropologie sales. There is no need for me to carry my phone so it lives quietly next to my nest of bed, beside the flannel sheets, where its only role is to serve as my faithful alarm clock so I don't miss first tracks up and the hill. My laptop, yes faithful ol' Red, lay uncharged for nearly 2 full days. Life is different, and it's good. I had spent much of the last six months constantly feeling like I was holding on by my fingernails, run right off my feet, struggling to keep my head above water. Being here has been like sinking into a hot bath. My muscles are supple and responsive, they crave activity where before the ached for rest. My skin is smooth, the humidity sometimes masked as damp, has given it new life. I am surrounded by love and support and full of delicious, organic, gluten free goodness. 

The moral of the story here is this: Take the time. Take the rest. Live slow when you can. If you are REALLY smart, don't let yourself get to a place where you NEED this. Get to a place where this sustains you. 




Monday, February 21, 2011

You know I'm always going to be around.


Yoga doesn't always give you what you want but it always gives you what you need.

As you may be able to discern I am conscious of opening my heart these days. In both the spiritual and emotional sense, as well as physically, I have been overprotective of it. My shoulders have shrugged up to my ears, my chest sunk back towards my spine, my shoulder blades stretched apart. I was anxious about going to class on Sunday night. It was a studio I didn’t often frequent, yoga was no longer free, I felt wrapped up in the small things in my life that I had a) little to no ability to control and b) that are truly the small things. I stepped into the warm studio and into the release and playfulness I craved without knowing it. My skin was hot, the chill of a freezing weekend melted from my pores. A class full of gentle openings of the heart and chest made me realize just how I had been carrying my … crap. All the tension stacked in my upper spine, shoulders, chest, suffocating me without my knowing. As the class went on our instructor continued to remind us just to let it go, to breathe, to be in the room, in the moment and let the thoughts, stresses or just the tension of our days, our weekends, anything that was holding us back go. With each reminder I exhaled a little bit of anxiety, about the past and about the future. Each inhale felt stronger, more free. My shoulders sunk away from my ears and my shoulder blades down my back. My heart was able to shine.

Our Sunday night was filled with play too. I am actively amazed that age seems to steal this idea of play from us so we find ourselves surprised when it indeed happens. Whether it's hanging around upside down in yoga, kissing someone for the first time, running really fast to pop music, singing in the car. Play. We need more of it. Pincha Mayurasana is not always my idea of play. It is not a posture I crave. It is similar to handsand but is practiced on the forearms. It came at a point in the practice when we were all pretty open, a little giggly and warm from the heated room and flow of the class. The cues and modifications to get into the posture and the partner support made it more fun than ever. Something that I am usually consciously afraid of not looking good at became simple, fun, a little exhilarating. A little safe adventure to top off a relaxing and restorative class.  So all in all I went to yoga because I wanted to spend time with a good friend. What I got out of it was exactly what I needed. This is what is inspiring today.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Easy Sunday Afternoon Listening.

I obviously have a lot of time on my hands today, should be studying but am finding this much more inspiring than critical reasoning.


I am in the process of re-discovering music that has been kicking around my iTunes for the last few years. I came across this. Sums up a lot I think.


Somebody Sometime - Matthew Barber


You gotta love to lighten that load
You gotta live to die
You gotta lie to somebody sometime
Better make it white

Cause someone will be waiting for you
Somewhere dark and deep
Someone will be greeting you
Somewhere in your sleep
Oh somewhere in your sleep

I think I might need an adventure
I need a visit to some place new
I'm happy enough with the temperature
But I'm unhappy with the view

And maybe I'll finally see it
And maybe I'll finally know
And maybe I'll never return to this place
And maybe I'll never go
Oh and maybe I'll never go

It's Christmas eve and my girl's out at sea
She's a thousand miles away
I'm tossing and turning but will I be earning
A loving come New Years Day

And pretty soon it'll be my birthday
And I'll be 29
So come on Barbie, let's go party
With that bottle of company wine

You gotta love to lighten that load
You gotta live to die
You gotta lie to somebody sometime
Better make it white

Cause someone will be waiting for you
Somewhere dark and deep
Someone will be greeting you
Somewhere in your sleep
Somewhere in your sleep
Somewhere in your sleep

my love is like lightning.

It's all about love.

Having an open heart has always been a challenge for me. I am adept at acting, talking, even sometimes thinking, like I let things all the way in, that I allow feelings, people, life to permeate my soul all the way in. In truth, I am opposite of a nut, a shell. Instead of having impenetrable walls with a gooey centre of emotion and feeling I am these things on the outside with a heart walled with thick steel. Many reach the door but few get in. This creates a lot of false perspective. I allow people to believe they connect with me, to believe I care or to wrongly believe I don't. All in the name of keeping that little steel trap of a heart closed. Closed but 'safe'. I have always craved connection with all around me and yet, because of a few little slip ups and a fear of failing I rarely let it in.

The last little while has been a siege on the fortress. I am actively practicing opening up, saying what is actually in my heart, not just what my head says I should. Now, don't get me wrong, I am marathons away from this opening on a grand scale but each time I do I let a little light in and a little light is all I need to start breaking up the blackness. I am scared. I am really scared of all the things that might not work as a result but I am more frightened on what I might miss by never letting anyone in. So today, I am going out with my camera in search of beauty and light. I am having the conversations I need to with the people I care about. I am cleaning up my messes. Today is good. Today is light.

Friday, February 18, 2011

In This Bright Future, You Can't Forget Your Past


This evening is a new beginning. The next chapter. A night for celebrating achievements and to toast to the future. Sadly, here in lower Mount Royal there is no power. This wouldn’t cramp my style if my plans were to sit at home and watch about 3 hours and 20 minutes of ski movies on my laptop (3 hours 20 minutes being the approximate battery time left), have a glass of wine and hit the hay at 7:30. It wouldn’t be a deal at all if it was 20 degrees and June, when it’s light until 11 pm anyways. Alas, it’s mid February, -20 degrees and my plan was to have everyone I know over for a little gathering. For what ever reason I am so happy, so mellow. What ever else tonight brings I am going to chalk it up to fate and make the most of the romantic candlelight. There are not many opportunities in this western twenty-first century to write by candlelight. It is simple, it is inspiring, it is creative and nostalgic. This is the beauty of my life going forward. I get to take some time to be like this always. To delve into what lights me up (and hopefully what lights my house up will be fixed by then!).

"In this bright future, you can’t forget your past". I couldn’t be more excited that my official title, in terms of employment is Skier, Writer, Yogi, Passionate Producer of Urban, Ocean, and Mountain Photography.  Soon to this list I will add student. To be where I am  right now I needed the experience I am coming out of. Working for an amazing, inspiring, company that pushed me to grow, learn and take myself on is the reason I know I can continue to be great in everything I take on. Every long day, every sweaty yoga class, every tough coversation, every dance party helped me grow just a little bit. It all helped me clarify what I really want, what I want less of in my life. It has all culminated in today. Today is taking it all and going forward. I am grateful for my past, inspired by the present, excited for tomorrow… and what comes after that.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Follow the wind that pushes me west back to my bed.

This Valentines day was not unlike others in the past. I hadn't made plans with any handsome young suitors, there were no roses, no chocolates from admirers. I didn't have to put a real bra on for dinner.  There was a sneaking distinction though. This year it was about me. It was about what I want. Over the past few weeks I have fallen for myself. Hard. There is something in the confidence of being who you are no matter what that attracts amazing people and opportunities into you life. I have re-discovered this and am in love with the person who was always there but who I had pushed down, who I had covered up to be someone else.

So this Valentines day was different. Instead of being dateless by circumstance I choose to forgo offers instead to spend the evening with friends, family and delicious food. I am happy to be my own date this year. It is finally ok. I celebrated with a soy latte this morning, with listening to corny pop songs LOUD in my car on the way to work. I curled my hair and wore cute shoes. I enjoyed the warm air, the sun, the time to create. I celebrated.


 So peace and love to all. This day can mean what ever you want it to, so make it count. As a good friend of mine says "love is the ultimate renewable resource" and it all starts with loving your self first and foremost.  Cheesiest post yet?

Saturday, February 12, 2011

No time to think of consequence

Days that start hungover have a miraculous way of creating reality and, in a twist of irony, dreams as well. Today, the pieces fell into place. I have been living in a bit of a fantasy for the past couple days. The endless possibilities before me allowed me the freedom to say say, when asked "what are you going to do?" simply what ever I wanted and with no timeline or accountability. Today I took the step and put down a foundation for the next few months. In those moments all the consequences and decisions that came with moving forward reared their challenging little heads. I had to start setting dates, for exams, for deadlines, for moving to a new city. Instead of a flakey make-believe-world it was all becoming very real. For the first time in a week my chest tightened around my light but fragile heart. This is all really happening now, I can't just sit back in the bleachers and let life happen to me, I on the field in full force. What also came of all this was the amazing possibilities that were becoming realities. I was fulfilling a big ticket item on the bucket list, making the moves to be where I want to be, doing what I want to be doing. I was solidifying relationships and enjoying life. Ahh hangover days. Thank you for your insight and brutal reality. Love.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Surfs up.

Thursdays seem to be my day of amazing classes. I was lucky enough to spend this evening with two amazing women in my life this evening. One taught us and the other practiced next to me. I am blessed. My home girl doesn't often teach in studios so we were lucky enough to get her half ashtanga half restorative class tonight. I have been precarious about practicing on my wounded little foot and haven't been willing to take the risk that practicing might actually make it better and not worse.  I started off with the intention that I would practice only while it felt good. Not surprisingly I made it through the whole class with no pain and only a little unsteadiness in balancing postures. The amazing thing is tonight was a key piece in understanding all the physical, emotional, mental and spiritual changes I have gone through during the Blissology Project. I am more open, more in the moment, more willing to love and actively seeking connection, to nature, to others, to my self. Re-forming habits is worth it. Being authentic is worth it.

Peace and Love.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Tell the world that I'm coming home.

In the business of athletic apparel we use a lot of sports analogies. When most of your staff comes from an athletic background it's hard not to speak of coaches, team mates, goals, game days. My favourite terminology surrounds the idea of playing big. I remember, when I was in high school and I started coaching younger kids, describing soccer for 4 and 5 year olds. The field is small, there are cones for nets, the kids clump together directly around the ball. The game is small. They get really good really quickly. Every time the field gets bigger, the net wider, the players better you and I have to step up our game. We left those first soccer games and maybe started at the bottom of the pack in the bigger leagues but rising to the top, holding our own in that game comes with huge rewards.

THIS IS LIFE. You can play small and never really get anywhere except stuck with your head down missing everything but that black and white ball or you can play big. We can take the risks, a huge one being not looking good all the time, and sometimes we fall flat on our faces and sometimes, sometimes, we inspire ourselves and those around us and we achieve what we were born to. Playing big is scary. I am playing a game so big right now that I feel like I am in the playoffs, maybe second round, and they just pulled the goalie. Yes, there is a lot at stake, giving up the luxury and comforts that I have known for a while now but already the doors are opening to everything else. I am without floor or ceiling and couldn't be more excited to see what falls into this space that has been created. I am willing to play hard. Go big.

Play. 

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Go west young man.

I am easily moved lately. The distinction between what and who I find inspiring and what and who I do not is felt through every bone in my body. That which pulls at my heart strings is overwhelming. Beauty in everything.

There is one movie that seems to resonate more deeply than others. I am touched by the grand picture and the tiny details. The sound track, the mode of transportation, the journey, the stops along the way, the destination. I am in love with the urgency and the wandering. I am in love with the sense of adventure, the need to do what feels right. I am in love with the synchronicity. To be honest I just love Pacey and Motorcycles.

If you haven't seen One Week I strongly suggest you do. You can borrow my copy. If you have ever felt proudly Canadian, ever wanted to get on a bike and spend time with yourself, the road and nature. If you ever just wanted to go west. Watch this movie... then, Go West Young Man.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Be Nobody But Yourself.

We all have a vision. Most of us know where we want to be 1, 5 and 10 years from now. One of the most inspiring things I have learned in the past few years is the power of visualizing and writing down short and long term goals. Really digging into what you want and where you see yourself. I never realized how empowering it is to really go after what you want in life until recently.

I have always pictured my life in Vancouver, near the ocean. I have a family with amazing animals running around. I live in a house built way before I was born in a style that can only be described as west coast and I can smell the salt air off the ocean all day, everyday. I wake up next to a man who is quirky, athletic, charming and who is my best friend. I am my own boss, run a successful business that gives back to my community and which provides the flexibility to travel and pursue my photography, writing and yoga related goals.

I haven't been living completely in line with this vision. For one, it's hard to smell the ocean from from the prairies. It's hard to start an amazing successful business with out the education to back it up. Hard, but not impossible. Recently I made a few small changes that are setting me up to be living an authentic life in line with this vision. It is freeing and exciting and scary to be pursuing something so real, something that I so desperately want. I am standing in nothing with only sky and sea and highest mountains in front of me. Everything is possible.

The words of E.E. Cummings have filled my thoughts and writing as of late and I think this quote speaks volumes.

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you like everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.



Thursday, February 3, 2011

Trust Your Heart if the Seas Catch Fire.


Restorative Thursdays on the Blissology Project always seems to come right when I need them. I woke up early in Vancouver this morning and came home to a city covered in snow, an empty fridge and a dirty house (don't tell my mum). To be honest, I was wiped. To add insult to injury, literally, I seem to have broken my foot, skiing Whistler on Tuesday, and walking or standing is reasonably excruciating. I spent my afternoon doing both. The warm bliss of the ocean still clinging to my skin, my heart, and  the inside of my nostrils, intoxicating. I just couldn't shake it. My heart and mind were on fire with what was both a possibility and a past all in one. I was tired and sore when I got home tonight and coming to my mat, relaxing, going through the flow was just what I needed. As I practiced my stiff ankle felt a little more mobile. My mind started to relax, the initial salutations ebbing and flowing like the waves I had spent my week watching through the lens of my camera. I just needed this to ground me. It never ceases to amaze me how even a short practice can do so much for our bodies and for our minds.

So simply, "Trust your heart if the seas catch fire." - E.E. Cummings.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Not all those who wander are lost.

There is nothing like re-dicovering your love for you self by re-discovering your love for a place. I arrived here five days ago and was instantly transformed... back to who I had been and who I had always loved being. I was picked up by 3 old friends, 2 in suits with an 8 foot sign that I managed to miss seeing until the last minute, and as we started to catch up I was a little shocked by what was coming out of my mouth. I was fun, funny, confident, interacting with authenticity. That was the good part, the bad part was that the words in my mouth sounded and felt nostalgic, like slipping into the ocean after long years of living on the prairies. I hadn't felt like this in a long time and I hadn't even realized it. We all do and act in ways that people tell us will make us more successful, more productive, get the results they think are significant, and faster. Realizing I lost who I was to be this person who I never really wanted to be was a bit of a shock. I had become a bit of a robot in fact. Talking the talk of someone not me.

As I fell in love with Vancouver and myself all over again the picture got clearer and clearer. I survived another February 1st, rekindled the spark with best friends, got more free life and business coaching than I could ever ask for, and handed some out too. Right now I am on the fast track to living my life the way I envision it. This can't stop now. I can't go back to who I have been becoming. No matter how efficient and strategic it would make me. I have never counted those two attributes amongst my strengths and am happy in the rich subtleties that I have developed as a result of taking the road less travelled, of taking the long way, of making mistakes, doing what feels right and living passionately in the results that emerge. I can only write down my declaration to be who I have been, to be the spark, the light, the anchor, the wide winged mama bird.

 It was once written that "Not all those who wander are lost", I am a firm believer in this idea. In our fast paced world of fad diets, get rich quick schemes and the need to push further, faster and bigger I get boundless joy and growth from simply being, taking the ways which move me and living in authenticity. Going forward This is what I take a stand for. This personal exploration, bliss following joy. This is worthing fighting for.