Woke up yesterday feeling weird. WEIRD, is all I can say – not here not there, as if suspended somewhere between sleeping and waking. And, all kinds of weird stuff happened.
The night before, after many unreturned phone messages (so unlike her) I finally reach my friend in Montreal. Her voice is listless and emotionless as she says “Hello.”
“It’s Nance,” I exclaim, hoping that maybe she is just momentarily distracted but knowing in my gut that this isn’t so.
“Hi,” same tone.
“What’s wrong?”
She tells me her 2 year old grandson has had a stroke. She has literally just walked in the door after being at the hospital.
We sit on either end of the phone in disbelief. She begins to tell me his story but within minutes finds herself overwhelmed by images of past, present and future and promises to call when she can.
Her pain is palpable and has echoed in my heart; maybe that’s the reason I’m off kilter. We are all connected. One person’s pain is the pain of all.
Chipped the lovely ceramic coffee mug Rod gave me for Christmas. It’s very playful, colourful and unique, with a big loopy handle that for months now I have feared would get broken off so I stopped taking it into coffee shops and it has been safely sitting on my shelf for occasional in home use. Distracted by my not here not there state of being, sure enough I knocked it over as I was clearing the counter. Luckily the handle remains intact and the chip is on an outer service. In a weird way, now that my fear has become manifest in a much gentler way I can relax and feel gratitude that I can still enjoy drinking from it. I take this as a special reminder to watch my mind today and be present.
My sister Candy and I went biking into Oakville and back. I almost cancelled as it looked like rain, but decided to go when Candy said “I have rain gear.”
“O.K. great” I reply but when I hang up I realize that I don’t. Hmmm.
Getting ready to go; one cat not accounted for. Maya, her little black self had disappeared into God knows where. After looking high and low for her, even into cupboards and closets I decide that for some reason she doesn’t want to be seen and that even if I was looking straight at her this would indeed be so. Sure enough when we return there she is tucked up into a tight little origami ball in the corner of the top step.
Sitting in a café in Oakville a young woman at the next table says, “You look familiar. I know you from somewhere.”
She looks familiar to me too but we can’t find a connection. “I get this all the time, there’s a woman around that looks like me and” pointing to my sister, “it’s not her is it?”
“No…my God, you look just like my skating teacher!”
Then she proceeds to write down her teachers name and where she teaches.
I had just been thinking about my double last week. I hadn’t heard about her for a few months now and thought maybe she’d moved; apparently not.
Today I pull up the information. I’m flattered. I have been mistaken for someone who does look a lot better than I. She is younger, slimmer, taller, much prettier (before I cut my hair and stopped colouring it, it was like hers) and way more accomplished than I. But, apparently we talk and move the same and wear similar clothes.
Candy and I go into L’Atelier Grigorian in search of some music for her. Just the day before, as I turned the ignition key in my car, the beautiful, gentle voice of Kenny Rankin surfed, dipped and glided through the airwaves and filled my heart and soul with such joy (STOP READING NOW. CLICK ON THAT LINK I JUST GAVE YOU. SIT BACK AND TAKE IN THE LOVELINESS!) I’ve rarely head his music on the radio, I though to myself, and as I sat there listening, I felt a renewed appreciation for his work. I had most of his albums at one time, played them so much that they were virtually unplayable and had vowed to replace them and go to see him in concert. Now would be a great time to embark on that plan.
“Do you have any Kenny Rankin CD’s?”
“Yes, right here,” the owner begins sorting through the display case while casually mentioning, “he died just last week I think.”
“What!? But, I was just thinking the other day that I’d go to see him in concert someday” I protest in disbelief, as if this would make any difference.
I am stunned, deeply saddened and feel an unexplainably intense sense of loss.
I have a Lomi to do today. Lomi days often open up all kinds of stuff into the universe as intentions are set we are in effect dreaming the universe into being. Maybe that’s the cause for all of this weirdness.
After the lomi session I feel the overwhelming need to hang upside down, fortunately for me, I have a yoga pelvic swing suspended from my ceiling with which to do so. Ahh, relief ! Somehow this makes me feel so much better as if I am aligning myself to a new perspective.
My 30 minute daily clutter clearing commitment (that I began writing about in the last post)brings me to stored information. I am an information junkie. Notes from Shiatsu School (graduated in ‘97), STAO newsletters and old Yoga Centre (the centre has since evolved into the Iyengar Yoga Centre of Victoria) of Victoria Newsletters (from ’87 on to 2002) are the focus. Memories surface and cherished stories and pictures are unearthed from the masses of paper. Shirley’s 70th birthday celebration issue; tributes to Swami Radha; faces and stories of others parade through my hands and my mind – Derek and family, Marlene, Jim and Jennifer, Leslie and Giles, Carol and Harvey, Sue and Bruce, Padmananda, Norman, Cecilia, Penny, Tanya, Susan and the dreamgroup, Anne, Gay and Rob, Lauren, Kiko, Linda, and so many others. And, included in their pages are stories and pictures of the many teachers I have been so honoured to study with: Ramanand, Aadhil, Felicity, Judith, Angela and Victor, Donald, Norma (the teacher who first brought Iyengar yoga to Yoga Centre of Victoria), even Iyengar himself in one brief workshop during his visit to Victoria.
Old issues of Yasodhara’s Ascent magazine appear – not the glossy one which, coincidentally, has its last issue now on the newsstand – but the small local publication from decades ago with then current writings of Swami Radha herself.
Maybe I’m overloaded by all of these memories. As I read THE FOUR INSIGHTS by Alberto Villoldo this comment jumps out at me. “Allow yourself to release the expectations you had of yourself, and accept that you’ve made different choices.” In its simplicity it speaks volumes regarding my life’s path and I find my attitude undergoing a monumental shift in a most positive direction.
I’m considering yet again, “What is the purpose of your life?” – part of the 28 day Soul Coaching work, which I wrote about in the last post. While watching IN TREATMENT (the episode – the first visit with Walter) a light bulb moment occurs when Gabriel Bryne says this line that resonates deep within me, “Some people spend their whole lives seeking Self-awareness” or something like that as I can’t find the specific episode in question (weird).
I receive an E-mail message which in part reads, “Thanks Nance. Does that mean I can use the latest?” This is part of an ongoing correspondence between me and an editor of a book on yoga stories. Since I last wrote to her in April/09, I have no idea!
And, you guessed it, I was just thinking about her that day but I really didn’t expect to hear from her til next spring. WEIRD.
No comments:
Post a Comment