I was only for your very space

Sitting here in a coffee shop I can see the streets glittering from the rainstorm that just fell upon the city then stopped in an instant. The milk in my coffee is sweet, the music in my ears familiar, my eyes behind the lenses of my glasses are clear, life is good. There is a contentment that has crept up on me as of late. I feel grounded for the first time in a long time. My growth as a person has snowballed. Just when I think I am learning so much all the time I discover even more, every day. That’s what makes life exciting I guess. It has likely become obvious that lately I have been learning who I want to be for my self and with others. It’s hard I have realized but I know I need to be here for myself first. Put the effort into things that will sustain me over the long haul and not continue to put that off for things that provide me with instant gratification. A glass of wine, eating take out, spending money that just isn’t there on things that I just don’t need. Focusing on what I need, taking a stand for my wellbeing needs to happen first and foremost this time. With all this work that I’ve done I feel like I have made headway, away from anxiety and fears and into this place of being happy, being at peace, being content.

These moments are life and the only way I can describe them is as space. It is the feeling I get when I spring clean, getting out the old stale things, the things I kept because I added meaning to them not because they were useful or beautiful, not because they were both. The last few weeks have been an emotional and mental spring clean, right here in the middle of this season that is supposed to be summer. I am a little uncomfortable in the space, I’m not going to lie. I feel like I immediately have to fill myself back up, but I am holding back. Not rushing into anything, letting my passions for writing and photography and nature fill in where the others left off. These are the times when good things come to those who wait. There are the moments that create the moments we will never forget.

A dear friend passed a long a link earlier this week, a short article on Bon Iver’s connection with Canada. The final point involved an idea that is incredibly prevalent in my life these days in so many ways. “ While one song is called “Calgary,” Vernon maintains he has yet to visit the city. Instead, Calgary “seemed like a place I was connected to,” Vernon said. “[It’s] like when you think there’s someone out there that you could be in love with but you haven’t met yet.” I get that deep connection to place. The mountains bring be home, in Whistler or in Lake Louise, in Jackson Hole Wyoming where I have never been. Sometimes you just know and that connection is undeniable. This connection with place is so similar to our connections with each other, like Vernon mentions. In this place where I am now, and the place of so many of my friends and those around me, I too feel this connection to someone I haven’t meant yet. This gut feeling of a game of hot and cold. Figuring out step by step, back and forth to the right fit, to the other half, to the person who you never even knew you missed.

With that said and done, it’s finally sunny out in this city. I am off to the sea wall for some dog watching!

Sometimes.

I still need you.

A year ago, to almost the day I fell in love. In love with a song that I can't seem to get from my head or my heart. It is not a great one, not particularly uplifting but none the less it seems to cling, to comfort, to soothe the rough edges.

These days I work on the second floor of a building in a room with huge wide windows. In front of those windows are trees. This, in most cases wouldn't be particularly interesting to me, and it is likely not interesting at all to you. Today was different. Between cleaning out tiny tea cup after tiny tea cup I started to notice a crow in the tree. In her beak was a large twig, or a small branch depending on how you look at it. She spent the better part of the afternoon trying to arrange it on the branches of our tree, placing the framework for a nest, for her home. A few times she dropped it, I would look out and she would be gone, only to return moments later with the same stick held within her beak. I was mesmerized by her persistence, by her creativity in finding just the right spot. I was momentarily in love with this nature in the middle of downtown. I was jealous that she seemed so busy and passionate and that at that moment I was simply cleaning tiny tea cups.

Her renovations also made me homesick. This crow had found just the spot to settle down and build. I was unsure. I woke up this morning with heart ache heavy for mountains and prairies and long black highways snaking through ranch land. I could taste my almond milk latte from Beano (scratch that, if I could only have one thing from Beano the ginger hot chocolate and chocolate espresso milkshake would have to battle it out for my love). The air is just different at home. Life is just different I guess. We haven't had a decent sunset here in a couple days and I am starting to pine for the evening Calgary light. Ever falling head over heels for landscape and sky.

So that's it. Monday. Crows, home-ache, heart-skipped-a-beat.

The only moment we were alone.

I’ve fallen for yin.

Yin yoga is the balance to a firey power class. It is the melty, slow, introspective counterpart to a more strength based, quicker paced yoga style. It is my new love.

I have always had a soft spot for a good slow stretch class but lately it is my passion. It helps I guess, that my new favourite instructor has a voice that is soft and sweet like a bird and buttery smooth all at once. That her classes are just what I need when I need them. And these days boy do I need them. A lot is going on here, especially in my head, and it’s all I can do to keep from getting, from going.

Last night’s class came at the end of a long and reasonably unproductive day. I haven’t been myself lately. Blaming it on the weather, on transitions, on everything I can. When it really comes down to it I am simply that. Down. I store it all in my shoulders, in my hips for sure, in my kidneys, in my jaw. All the anxiety, the worry, the inexplicable tiredness, it is printed and drawn across the connective tissues and organs of my body. Yin is a release from this. For a class where much of the hour and a half is spent laying or sitting, most often in heavily supported postures, it is always a challenge for me. To be present to what is going on inside, to the sensations in those tight spots is harder sometimes that sun salutation after sun salutation, a strong standing series and a multitude of chaturanga dandasanas. Boy I was sweating it out last night. Working hard to try to get some energy flowing.

Needless to say I always feel better when I practice, no matter what class, no matter what I do in my home practice, the simple act of coming to my mat brings me home. Let’s my chattering mind know it is time to get quiet. Time to breath. To sit. To let some junk go.

If this all sounds too good for words you can check out a yin class here:

In Vancouver:

- YYoga http://www.yyoga.ca/ ( my favourite class is Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday with Ingrid Nilson)

- Semperviva http://www.semperviva.com/classes.php

In Calgary:

- Yoga Santosha http://www.yogasantosha.ca/schedule.php

- Yoga Shala http://www.yogashalacalgary.com/wednesday.php

Calgary.

Sometimes it just sneaks up on you. The right song for the right moment. I know this is what I will listen to next time I walk home watching the sun set over the water, through the clouds, on the snow capped peaks. It will be beautiful and lift my heart and I know a smile will cross my lips. And even then I know my heart knows what this song is named. It recognizes the light in the notes.