Category: Yoga
Thursday, Jul 8, 2010 | Writing, Yoga |
I wrote a scene yesterday. And more. I’m pleased. Since it seemed to warm up my typing/thinking self to blog yesterday, I’ll start this writing morning the same way.
Yesterday afternoon, Kevin came home early with a movie for the kids, so we could watch the Germany-Spain game together; I turned down a beer, but then changed my mind. My plan was to go to yoga over the supper hour, and I didn’t want to go with beer in my system. Or two, as it turned out (I was thirsty; and Germany lost). But after a restless indoor hot and sticky day, I discovered that despite the two-beer afternoon, I had the unbearable urge to exercise. So I went anyway. And here is my conclusion: beer is less toxic than coffee. It was a great class, and I suffered no ill effects. (Note: this is not a recommendation; nor do I plan to practice under the influence in future).
Today, I’m travelling back in time to the age of nineteen. I’ve got earplugs in. Having the big kids home all day definitely makes for more of a writing challenge; I’m debating right now whether I should intervene, as AppleApple and Albus are squabbling downstairs …. (Is it crazy to have air conditioning and not to use it? We have air conditioning. But I’m only turning it on at bedtime, to cool the upstairs rooms as the kids fall off to sleep. Is the heat contributing to the short tempers? Would we be happier with cool air falling upon our heads?).
In a week and a half, I’ll be taking a writing week–something that Kevin and I haven’t arranged for awhile. He looks after the kids, and I write non-stop, sometimes even through meals and past bedtime. That will be the sprint portion of the Juliet marathon. My goal for that week is to frame the three stories. It’s the most labour-intensive work, writing a first draft; after that, the work continues, but it’s being done on top of something–which I can build on or tear down or rearrange, which I find easier to cope with. I can rewrite and edit till the cows come home. That’s my favourite part of writing: reshaping, restructuring. Or, wait. My mind just said, nu-uh, your favourite part is when you’re writing something new and you find something you didn’t even know you were looking for. True. I love stumbling over something much better than I could have planned on finding. But that takes greater effort, harder labour, deeper focus; and it’s rarer. You can’t just demand that it occur.
Today. I’ve got to shut out the noise of the grumpy kids and work my way back towards the beach, the ocean, and, maybe, a grand concert hall.
Tuesday, Jun 29, 2010 | Chores, Laundry, Photos, Running, Writing, Yoga |
I want to write about writing, but it may be that I’m just too tired tonight to write about anything at all. Therefore, insert photos! This 365-day project has had the unexpected effect of being like a tutorial in portrait photography (don’t know why it took me till day 150 to figure that out). Last night, Kevin and I watched The Young Victoria (a very pleasant romance, if you’re into Victorian costume drama), and what kept diverting my eyes? The lighting. How is her face lit? It looks like natural lighting, but is it? And if not, what is the director using to give the appearance of natural lighting? Etc.
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It’s nearly July. The big kids have one day of school left in grades two and three. And my Fooey has completed junior kindergarten. (See photo, above, of her getting ready to go to school this morning).
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Last week, I only exercised one day out of seven. Wow. That was not good. And I felt it. I felt tired, which made me feel less like exercising … which made me feel even more tired. So, with great intentions I went to bed at a reasonable hour last night and set my internal alarm for early morning yoga. Slept without stirring for approximately seven hours, and woke when my husband tapped me on the back. Apparently his internal alarm had sounded. Mine, not a peep, not a polite brrrrng-brrrng; nothing. Which meant I woke just as morning yoga class was about to begin; but, being awake and well-rested, I hopped out of bed, ate a banana, and headed for a run. It was surprisingly less tortuous alone than I’d anticipated. I even heard a rooster crow in the park’s zoo. I didn’t think about much, just ran. It wasn’t super-early, so people were out and about, lots of construction workers heading to sites in the area, friendly hellos from other runners and cyclists. And I enjoyed the endorphins, and felt ready for my day in a way I hadn’t all last week.
My goal is to exercise four times a week: two runs, two yoga classes. I will report back. I enjoy setting goals; don’t always meet them, but enjoy setting and re-setting them. Life is flux.
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Photos above include AppleApple on her last day of horse lessons (at least for this round), with Sunman, who was her regular ride. I love how comfortable and affectionate she is with all animals, even ones that are so much larger than her.
We also had some awesome rainstorms this weekend; guess I was over-optimistic about the laundry-hanging on Sunday.
Wednesday, Jun 23, 2010 | Blogging, Confessions, Yoga |
CJ is only pretending he wants to nurse, come night-time. What he wants is to get himself cuddled into my arms. He will then say, “Mama, I gonna tell you something!” (He pronounces something like some-sing.) And then he launches into elaborate made-up stories told at high volume, about little lions and little moths and sometimes Master Yoda makes an appearance. Books are thrown off of shelves. Little moths are “grumpy.” Little lions drink chocolate milk and are happy. Milk is spilled and Mama cleans it up and she says “thank you!” (Would that this were so).
Tonight, when I laid him in his crib (and he’s still up there, wide awake and protesting loudly), I said, “Goodnight, bub.” This sent him into paroxysms of hilarity. “I not bub, I CJ!” Just repeating the word “bub” had him in tears. The world is funny. Things sound funny.
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Tonight’s yoga class was killer. There was something in that room–anxiety, fear, something like that. It was really hot. And I was tired. And there were lots of people there, including some who were trying out hot yoga for the first time. A lot of people were suffering through the class, and it was easy to read on everyone’s faces and in their postures, including my own. But my problem was my mind. It just would not settle. I did not believe that I could manage, and over and over again I had to pull myself back to remembering that, yes, I could, and I have many times before. Toward the end, we all settled, somewhat, as the instructor found us a pose that brought us some peace with the inner turmoil. I recognized what I was feeling: I had been telling myself that I was feeling sadness, but I noticed that I was enjoying what I was feeling too much for that. Aha! I was feeling self-pity. Ugh. Do I ever hate self-pity. And there I was, wallowing around in it, making excuses. Now, this isn’t to discount the legitimacy of experiencing sadness. But there must be some way to experience it that isn’t indulgent. Self-indulgent. What is the point at which enjoying an emotion is a cue that it’s become not healthy? Aren’t some emotions there to be enjoyed?
I haven’t had quite as much energy recently. I wonder whether it’s more mental or physical. I’m not sure. But it is now nearly 10pm: all four children are still awake; AppleApple is weeping because she can’t find her Pooh Bear (just found him–phew!); Fooey is trying to sleep on a blanket on the floor because she’s a cat; the dishes are completely undone; I need to pack a picnic for the whole family for a “special people picnic” in honour of Fooey tomorrow; I feel the need to blog (talk about self-indulgent!); we have to take a snack for AppleApple’s soccer team tomorrow night, and have nothing suitable on hand; and we have no coffee in the house!!!! No coffee! Now that’s an emergency. I just sent Kevin on a quick run (in the truck; eco-confession) to the nearest grocery store, which is open till 10. There. Happy ranting.
Back to the dishes.
Friday, Jun 18, 2010 | Big Thoughts, Mothering, Spirit, Writing, Yoga |
Why have I not felt like blogging, this past week? I’ve had a moment, here or there, that could have been turned into time to blog. But I chose not to.
Because …
1. My head is full. Too full. Which makes it hard to zero in on a subject. I’ll be honest with you. My head is full of Life, good and bad, dark and light, hope and despair, grief and excitement. Sometimes I just want to sit and let myself feel what I’m feeling, quietly. Without trying to put it into words.
2. This hasn’t been conscious, but I’m finding some balance in my days and hours. In a sense, I’m making compartments for different tasks, different identities. This morning is quiet and interior: I am writing. The house is empty. My mind homes in on this other world I’m making. There’s some of the source of excitement: making something, gathering up the disparate pieces and sensing that it’s coming together, even if it’s not quite there yet. (I abandoned the memoir awhile ago–did I ever write about that? I am working on the story collection, the Juliet stories.)
After school, I’ll enter into the noisy chaotic compartment of motherhood. I’m trying harder to check email less frequently, sit down with a kid in my lap more frequently; that also means not squeezing in a blog post while a child stands at my knee and screams for attention.
Whatever it is, it seems to be working. The full-on mothering days feel sweeter because I have these other days and opportunities to express other parts of myself. I am luxuriating in the freedom I have within every day. I just have to accept its seasoning and flavour. Say, freedom to go out for lunch with a friend. Freedom to bake sweet treats for/with my kids. Freedom to walk rather than drive. Freedom to volunteer at the school fun fair.
It is amazing to discover that commitment to an activity offers up space for real relaxation and enjoyment.
Example … I volunteered at the school fun fair. Yes, I left clothes hanging on the line and it poured rain and I couldn’t run home to rescue them; guess what–they stayed on the line overnight and dried the next day, having enjoyed a lovely soft water rinse. Yes, I had to bring along all four kids; guess what–they had a blast helping out. Yes, Kevin was stuck in Toronto; guess what–AppleApple missed her soccer practice and the world did not end; plus, everybody rose to the occasion, and the big kids were able to do activities with the little kids. Yes, I applied fake tattoos for several hours; guess what–it was a blast chatting with the kids who streamed through, and their parents. I didn’t waste a minute worrying that the evening wasn’t going precisely as planned, or that we were staying longer than anticipated, or that the kids were going to be grumpy the next day.
I am a naturally impatient person, and I’m just beginning to grasp that conceptualizing any time as a waste is itself the biggest waste of all. I don’t have a lot of spare time, so it can be easy to resent time spent doing something that isn’t my first or second or even third choice; I am finding myself more relaxed about that. Inside every moment is a potential discovery.
What comes at me so strongly this week, as I sit inside quiet and some sadness, is that this is my life. I am alive. I am breathing, in and out, and I am living this present moment whether or not it is the moment I want to be living. Can I embrace each moment? Probably not. But the more moments I embrace–chosen and otherwise, going according to plan or going hay-wire–the more moments will embrace me.
You know it when you find it. You likely won’t recognize it till afterward. But you’ll know–an hour, an afternoon, longer, those moments when you are out of time and inside the experience, just being within it. Often, you have a sense of not wanting this–whatever this is–to pass. Or even no sense at all of time passing. You blink, and hours are gone. You wonder where you’ve been. You’ve been inhabiting yourself, that’s all. For me, these moments seem to come more easily when connected to something physical, walking, running, kneading, drinking, laughing, sometimes with company, sometimes alone.
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Guess I was ready to blog …
This is what happens when I get up early and exercise. I didn’t even set my internal alarm this morning, it just decided to go off.
Monday, Jun 14, 2010 | Chores, Cooking, Music, Yoga |
I got tired yesterday. Or, woke tired. Saturday was productive: I made yogurt (4 litres of yogurt!), and baked a batch of bread. I also made almond milk from scratch. But yesterday I felt weary of kitchen work. So I baked a rhubarb crisp for supper (dessert) and left it at that. Our fridge is full of homemade. Our house is in disarray, and thank heavens for my crocs (which I wear as slippers) because the floor is crumb central. (“You don’t have to work all the time, you know,” Kevin told me yesterday, as I was confessing an overwhelming desire to do NOTHING AT ALL.) Yesterday evening, the whole family went into a fugue state: Fooey went off to sleep, CJ puttered with Little People, Albus played piano in order to figure out a song on the guitar with Kevin (and Kevin was amazed by everything Albus knew about music–his ear, his rhythm, his understanding of musical theory; I just knew putting in all those years of early childhood music, and this past year of piano lessons, would be worth it! yay! I truly believe in giving kids the rudiments, so they can take them and develop on them; I’m so excited by Albus’s new enthusiasm); and AppleApple and I worked on her school project (that child has an extremely organized mind!). Time passed. Soon, it was 9:30 and we were like … um, responsible parents, bedtime, sheesh. So, children all put to bed, Kevin and I collapsed in the living-room with a beer, and I said, you won’t believe this, but I swear I spent a lot of time tidying this room today. He said, you won’t believe this, but so did I. It was a puzzle/games disaster, and mixed-up puzzle/game pieces are just endlessly frustrating to sort. The things I found under the couch. But the kids had a fun morning playing restaurant (at least, it was fun till they called me to be their customer, and I showed up and went, AAAAAGHGHG! Mommy has to leave the restaurant right now or she will make you start cleaning all this up!). Anyway, by the time Kevin and I wandered to the kitchen, post-beer, it was past 11. I did not try very hard to set my internal alarm for early morning yoga. And my internal alarm did not go off. Here’s the thing about the early mornings: I love them. But I have to go to bed early. There is no compromising on this. My body makes darn sure of it. So, if I have to choose between quiet early morning and hanging out with my husband, I generally choose the latter. I’ll get a wee bit of exercise right about now (though hardly a zen moment) as I walk to school to pick up the kids.
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PS That photo above is my boys this morning: my biggest and my littlest. One off to work, the other off to nursery school … leaving me alone in a quiet house for a couple of blissful hours.
Friday, Jun 4, 2010 | Kids, Yoga |
Above, images from our morning, yesterday.
Today, a quiet house. (Plenty of noise from the nearby road construction to balance that out). Yoga to start my day, early, and serenely. Waiting for the perfect moment to drink that first cup of coffee. Will hang laundry first, and mull and meditate and prepare, because today I have stories to plot, and words to labour over, and I love love love having the chance to do it.
