play by play analysis of a "stupid" day

I thought that I was having a "bad" day yesterday. But, I decided to check it out to see if in fact this was so. Here is a play by play account of the events that transpired and my analysis of the day.
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LEGEND

POSITIVE VALUE:
:) This is a good thing = +1 point
:D This is a really good thing = +5 points
:-D laughing - 10 points
:'-) happy crying — priceless

NEGATIVE VALUE:
:( This is not a good thing = -1 point

NEUTRAL
:0 A sense of awe
%-( confusion
=-O"Uh - oh"
;-(  "WTF"
$%&#$%(&*#^#%^ swearing aloud
#^#&^&$*&^%^$$ swearing silently
:-@ scream
:@ Exclamation "What???"
")(" shaking oneself violently with or without jumping about as if trying to shake water off one's body
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EVENT #1
It's...well I don't know just what time it was when I was rudely awoken, not once but five times, by the sounds of my FLIPPY & MAYA barfing  :(  :(  :(  :(  :( 

Oddly enough I can tell exactly which one is barfing and get a general location of the barfee and therefore the barf.  :)  :) 

I can feel Rod laying in bed as I am, as still as possible, in the hopes that the other will get out of bed first and have to deal with it. The long wait is on, each conscious of the other.
Rod had picked up his supplies the previous night and was sleeping in  :(
I was getting up earlier than normal to meet with Candy and go for a walk.  :(  :)

I have my socks on  :)
Slithering on my belly like a Marine on a mission I am able to locate all 5 barf-land mines WITHOUT walking through them :)  :)  :)  :)  :)

Maya had horked up 1 gigantic furball (picture her without eyes or legs and you have just about the size of the furball that Tiny Perfection can project forth)  :0 (equals  :)

Flippy aka Poopy Butt Girl doesn't spew forth anything but gloppy white slime  :(
Which means explosive diarrhea will be forthcoming  :(
Which means I'll have to cover my duvet (her kitty box of choice when she's percolating) with plastic  :(  
Which means days of vigilance ahead  :(

Maya looks relieved   :)
Flips belly feels bloated  :(

TALLY - 12 :(   11 :)  TOTAL = -1
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EVENT #2
Lost in thought as I drive along the QEW I see the right lane veering away from me and at that very moment I realize that I've missed my cut off  $$&^&*%&   :(

I know how to get back :)

On the return approach I'm not sure what the name of the exit is as I go by terrain and not signs. I get sucked into the Bermuda Triangle that Burlington Street exit (the same one that got me in this predicament in the first place) has become $%*%&&*&* ")(" :(

I know a different and more scenic way to get back :)  :) (I like scenery)

Though I am 30 minutes late Candy can still go for our walk, and we have a lovely one, the day is warm, she's brought some peanuts for con artist squirrels and we visit a lovely tree  :)  :)  :)  :)  :)

TALLY - 2 :(   8 :) TOTAL = + 6
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EVENT #3
I am visiting my nursing home client later that afternoon  :)

My hot stone client wants to come 30 minutes early; it's a squeeze getting back in time but reluctantly I agree - I'm feeling pressured  :(

The stuff I've gotten out of the car doesn't include my keys, phone, or money all of which I've locked inside #%^&$$^*&**&  ")(" :( :( :(  

Oh well, I'll deal with it later - able to shift to positive state  :)

Session with my client is lovely & she is over the flu  :)  :)

Staff offers use of their phone and I can remember phone numbers of my brother and a friend  :)  :)  :) 

I have difficulty dialing out, need the help of staff member (not once, but 3 times, the last time she gives me a consoling pat on the back), I feel like a looser after all I'm the stress management specialist  :(  :(  :(  ;-(

My friend comes to the rescue, we call the CAA, go to her brother's to wait it out  :)  :)  :)

I realize I wont be back on time for the appointment  :(

I call my client's place of work, "Yes, she's here" says the guy on the phone  :)
No, she's not  :(
I have to call back and ask him for her cel #.  Before he'll give it out he asks, "How many daughters does she have?. (this is a good thing for security reasons and I agree with him)  $%^&*$^*$*  ")("

but...I'm sure it is 2 but if I'm not right he won't give me the number. Damn, what is the name of the daughter that I know? For the life of me I can't pull it out as it's one of those names in which the given and surname are interchangeable and her surname is different form her Mom.   :(  :(

I repeat my name and what I do. He's heard of me. He gives me her number.   :)   :) (bonus - it's nice to be recognized)

She answers, is disappointed, and "by the way I have a bladder infection"  :)  :(  :(

I can't treat someone in the early stages of a bladder infection so it's a good thing that I couldn't get home in time as she'd have come all the way out only to be refused treatment.  :)  :)  :)  :)

I visit with my friend and her brother while we enjoy rum infused home made egg nogg :)  :)  :)  :D

Later we watch the CAA guy jimmy the door lock...cool  :)

I tip him the only money I have, which amounts to... 65 cents =-O ...I'm such a looser   :(

TALLY - 14 :(   27 :) TOTAL = + 13
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EVENT #4
Making the best of the situation I go to Shopper's Drug Mart with my friend.  :) 

Getting out of the car I realize that I don't have my glasses @#$%^@^^@  ")("  :-@ ")("  $%^#%&$^$&#%  :(

We decide to deal with this after we shop but I'm obsessed and become laden with tics (like a dog trying to shake off water after a long, long swim) that arise spontaneously at the thought of having to retrace my steps or worse go back to the nursing home where things have legs and walk away @$^##%^#$^#  ")("  :(  :(  :(

It's seniour's day.  Am I really that old? :@  ")("  :)  :(

After my friend's purchases are rung in she gets not only the seniour's discount but also a coupon for $10 as she's spent over $60. She really wanted the coupon and tried hard to get it.  :)   :)  :)

He then tells us that you have to be 60 to get seniour's discount, but we're not. Having already given her the discount he gives me one too.   :(   :)

I have purchased over $60 without even trying. I get a coupon  ;-(   :)

TALLY - 6 :(   7 :) TOTAL = +1
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EVENT #5

My friend decides to leave me to do the hunt on my own  :)  :)  (wise decision for us both)

They are not in her car, or mine, or the parking lot (a frail old couple approaches  %-(  as I'm crouched down snooping around their car which is parked in the same space mine had occupied  :(  :(  :(  :(

Upon leaving them I pat down my pockets again. Realizing I have an inside pocket in the inner jacket I dig in, deep down and lo and behold there they are!  But I feel like an idiot  :D  :(

TALLY - 5 :(   7 :) TOTAL = + 2
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EVENT #6

I drive home at my leisure with my glasses on so I am pleasantly aware of oncoming traffic, stop signs and the like   :)  :) 

I don my PJ's and rather than curl up into a little ball (my first inclination) Rod and I eat toasted bacon bagel sandwiches while we watch 3rd season of Boston Legal episodes 17 & 18. Our faith is restored in a previously great show that had suffered horrible writing for the previous episodes of that season   :)  :)  :)  :)  :D

I indulge, further obliterating the woes of the day, in watching 30 ROCK & OUTSOURCED  :-D  :D

TALLY - 0 :(   21 :) TOTAL = + 21
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NON-EVENT #7
POOPY BUTT GIRL DOESN'T STRIKE TONIGHT  :D

However, it may only be a matter of time  :(

BUT...NOT TONIGHT  :'-)

TALLY - 1 :(   5 :) TOTAL = + 4
GRAND TOTAL 
40 :(  to  86 :)  = + 46
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Wow, my experience of "this is a good thing" things was way more than my "this is not a good thing" things; not bad.

And so, we bid adieu to — not the bad day I originally thought I was having — but, merely a "stupid" one.

May your days be fantastic, fabulous, great or at least good. And, if they can't be any of those may they merely be "stupid" but not bad.

Red faced eating humble pie moment

She brought a tiny chocolate bar & a special bottle of wine from a friend's vineyard before the other guest arrived...OK I'm officially a hypocrite.
My other guest brought the equally appreciated nothing.

Treasures in the most unlikely of places

As you can see, I was doing dishes the other day when suddenly I was moved to take this picture. I was doing the last bit of cleaning up the day after a great New Year's Eve shared with council members Glyn & Pam and their spouses. I was in a "good space" where all is right in the world; a moment of contentment. At that moment I realized how all these things I was washing give me great pleasure not only to look at but for the memories they hold.

We filled the crystal wine glasses, from my parents' collection, with champagne which we used to toast in the New Year. In my parents' day it was Sherry but no matter. A few Christmases ago  Rod and my Christmas gift to each other was this set of colourful plates to make our settings cheerful and fun. The white one tucked in behind we bought as a one off in Yorkville a few years prior, again a Christmas purchase. It was pricy, needs to be hand washed but is a lovely plate for presentation of treats. The blue-green bowl reminds me of earthy things and I purchased at the One of a Kind in Dec - a memento of a fabulous time had by Di and myself.

The little ceramic pot beside it, Rod and I found in the pottery section of the craft marketplace silo in St Jacobs when we were first together. I like to mix spices, smell them and adjust them in the little pot before throwing them in the cooking pot as my Indian house-mate Jaya did when teaching me how to make curry during my university days. Tucked in front of it is a less showy but equally serviceable stainless steel cup that I also use for that purpose which reminds me of my many restaurant stints, especially my time at Jasper Park Lodge.

On the edge of the sink is the basket for my coffee maker. I just got it about 2 years ago and it comes out whenever friends come to visit. Before this I'd take everyones order and enlist a guest to go for a coffee run with me to the Tim's on the corner. 3 stones plucked from the shores of Lake Huron are nestled into the corner reminding me of the power of mindfulness, love, healing, council friends and Florence's place up north.

The ladle, from One of a Kind years back, reminds me of many wonderful outings I've had with friends. It hangs along with other fine serviceable pieces from the same artisan, creating an ever changing glistening piece of wall art when not in use and shows up especially beautifully against the tile on the wall; a work in progress. Rod and I picked them up a few weeks ago and he got only so far before the holiday celebrations began. A contractor's place is often in various stages of completion. I'm told tomorrow will be the day work resumes. I love the subtle multi-colours in the stone. 

We don't have a lot of "stuff" but I'm fortunate that all of these things continue to give me great pleasure and I am grateful to have not only them, but the memories and messages they contain. 

It's a simple thing, but sometimes simple is fantastic!

A simple yoga life

Yoga can be done almost anywhere. I have done my yoga practice:

• in a crowded family room at my family's home while everyone was watching TV
• in a relatively secluded corner in the airports departures lounge
• in my Dad's hospital room during my "Dad watch" stint 
• on campsites throughout the country
• on the beach at Jan's sister's cottage 

My in-laws' spare bedroom
used for storage
They kindly cleared a space for my practice
when we were in Campbell River

I have not done yoga in India.

Yoga can be done almost any time of the day. I have done it at almost all hours of the day and night. Spring prompts me to do earlier practices; winter lures me into midnight ones.

I haven't done yoga earlier than 6 a.m.

Yoga can be done alone or in the company of others. I have done my practice with:

Flip helping me in Virasana
She does a fabulous abdominal massage
when I'm in Supta Virasana
(Reclined Hero pose)

• my pets crowded around the mat
• friends' little children participating with me, most notably Sarah and downward dog all those years ago
• my brother heckling me

I haven't done yoga posing in front of an elephant nor balancing on perilous precipices.

I have done yoga wearing:

• nothing at all (in the privacy of my own home)
• a bathing suit
• yoga wear
• jeans and a sweater

I prefer to do yoga in my PJ's.

Reality Check

WAY OLDER THAN JUSTIN BEIBER

A headline in the local newspaper the other day was: ELDERLY MAN DIES IN CRASH. He crashed his car "when it appears he went into medical distress". As the details unfolded I envisioned a grey haired gent in his late 70's on his way to his maker only to find that the man was...60.

That's right six-oh, 60, sixty years old, and he's considered elderly. I almost went into shock when I read this. The reporter who wrote the piece is, obviously, barely out of his teens. To consider that a man of 60 has (as Wikitionary's definition of elderly states) "lived for relatively many years" is reasonable but "elderly" doesn't take into account that he probably felt in his prime until "wham" his time was up. It just seems a disservice.

Close to 60 myself, I can accept that I would be, in aboriginal terms, considered an elder. I feel entitled to embrace the hard earned wisdom that the term of respect implies I've gained over the years. But I guess that would make me elderly which is so remote from the word elder. Wikipedia states that, the term elderly "implies or means that the person is retired" which can vary according to the country that one lives in.

Now I know why I have such an aversion to the idea of retirement - I still see myself as a relatively young person. But I guess it is more correct to say that I am youthful or young at heart. But, if I was to die tomorrow the headline would read, ELDERLY WOMAN CROAKS and that sucks. I would be soooo turning in my grave. But really, I won't give a shit by then so what gives?

Today the paper also announced: BEIBER MEMORABILIA SELLING ON eBAY. At the time of the report, a bid of more than $3,500. was reached for a signed school yearbook. Somehow that just seems wrong. The kid's barely a warm bun  out of the oven; I have dust bunnies older than Justin Beiber. I know that admitting this makes me a candidate for WHAT NOT TO WEAR but I have a sweater that is as old as his grandfather.

I know the term memorabilia really is synonymous with the word memento but, it has connotations of nostalgia and history.

I'm waiting for his memoirs. I hear their coming out next week. That should be exciting!

(I started going grey at 30) Nance Thacker copyright 1984
click on cartoon to enlarge

optical illusion

I just looked over the last post.

WOW, I look like an amazon!

Truth is I'm 4'10".

I'm not tall, the ceiling is very low.

Maybe I should have kept the illusion going.

Oh, well the truth is out now.

Distinguished elder gentleman

This is Morgan, my friend Pam's cat.

As you can see he is quite a beautiful fellow.

What makes him quite exceptional

are

his

ear tufts

I have never seen this feature on a cat before.

He didn't always have them.

They grew in his old age, making him look

like a distinguished elder statesman.

Planter of another sort

This is a little blogging test piece, which just happens to continue the theme of yesterday's post, only this time it is result of drawing a plant in a planter instead of planting a plant in a planter.

It was a sunny wintery day that January 10th, 2007 sometime before or after lunchtime (I try to avoid going to any place at noon, too crowded) at CJ's Cafe in Bronte (please people, pronounced Bron tea NOT Bron ta-a-y). I was taking a break between clients - I sometimes just have to get out of the home office and go to where something is going on outside of inside of my head — when I got the urge to just draw something.

I hadn't drawn in a long, long while but did have my small, black, hard cover, sketch book with me and a crummy little ball point pen (the kind you get in packs of 30 or so). I really enjoy the tactile, kinaesthetic feeling of drawing; it gives me indescribable pleasure and I can get lost in it forever.

My favourite thing to draw is the nude figure, but, as it was unlikely that anyone would happen by and be inspired to strip off then and there, I had to make do with this plant that was sitting atop the counter near a mirror.

So, there I sat drawing to my heart's content, for just how long I don't know...

____________________________________________________

That was going to be all I was going to write but Rod and I are in the den. I'm writing this post and he's mucking about on Youtube, playing some Willie Nelson songs. He just said, "Oh, did you know that Willie Nelson died?"

Well, now I love Willie. We'd just seen him on TV just a few weeks ago on AUSTIN CITY LIMITS (?) and I'd recently read that he cut his hair because he has a problem with his rotator cuff and he found it too difficult to wash his waist length hair. Having once had hair below my butt, I can relate.

Anyway, distracted though I was, I'm a little taken aback to hear this. "Get out, really?"

And Rod says, "yup, he was playing on the road again."

That doesn't make any sense at all. I'm still partly focused on writing about the drawing and writing affects me much the same way drawing does, I get lost in it. Don't talk to me and don't ask me to engage you in conversation cus you'll get "ums and ahs" and nods if you want them. I'll agree with you, probably even make plans to do things, anything just to keep you satisfied and allow me to keep doing what I'm doing, but really it's like talking with a sleep walker and I probably won't look you in the eyes. So you really need to keep knockin'.

"What?"

"He was playing on the road again...WILLIE DIED CUS HE WAS PLAYING ON THE ROAD AGAIN."

...

Stoopid Youtube.

Welcome to my garden

WELCOME TO MY GARDEN

I HOPE YOU WILL BE

HAPPY

HERE

This is a little blessing I give to each

plant that I plant in my garden because

any that enter here need all the luck they

can get as I'm not the best gardener in the world.

My garden is a little on the wild side.

A lovely "English garden" Pam said the other day.

These little clusters of coleus

are awaiting potting in the big planter in the pic

but I'll have to relocate the poppy and snap dragons

that seeded themselves in it since last season.

And, this lovely geranium in the hanging planter

given to Rod and I by Jack and Flo

has benefitted greatly by

the self-watering system

I got at

Lee Valley.

I'm thinking that it may last the season

as long as I remember to deadhead it.

WELCOME, GOOD LUCK TO ALL

& THANK YOU FOR SHARING

YOUR BEAUTY WITH ME!

Hellooooooo

Wow, there's somebody out there, not just in here.

WELCOME!

Thanks for your responses.

Have a great weekend all!

Nance

Photographic Evidence of Lifes little wonders

Gravity Assistant proudly on duty at all times, doing a great job keeping everything nailed down which would otherwise fly around due to the force of the earth spinning and careening through space. We can all breathe a heavy sigh of relief knowing that millions like her are out there. If not for her tireless effort, the knitting needles inside the bag would have escaped and poked my eyes out by now. Thanks, Gravity Assistant!

DCSI - REPORT FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF THE DOMESTIC CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATOR - undeniable evidence that this is the home of a married couple. The last person at the scene of the crime was the husband.

I rest my case.

Sweet Shop or a Health Shop or just what the heck goes on in there? My husband, at first glance thought it was a sweet shop (until we saw the words Health Centre) because of the bubble gum and Kool Aid colours plus it's got what looks like a cute little wrapped candy above the i. All I know is that it sits between the COP SHOP (a bar) and THE LOVE SHOP (a, well you know, a love shop full of all kinds of naughty-fun stuff) all of which doesn't shout to me — "COME IN AND BE HEALED".

out in the ozone

Well, that didn't work. I just posted a blog somewhere - called Many Hats. It has a cartoon in it and I've written about the work that I do in my healing practice and how grateful I am for it.

So, if someone finds it out there can you please tell it to come home as it wasn't a bad little entry; I even have one fan on it, someone I don't know. It's like some kind of parallel universe. I was using Blogger and Picassa to get the scanned cartoon on to this site as all other efforts failed; it seemed to be working.

I've spent far too much time on this. It's almost 7:30p.m. and my stomach is growling and soon Rod will be too wondering what the heck I'm doing.

Will keep trying to sort this out. I just have to keep telling myself that this is all part of the learning process and reminding myself that I do love learning - I just want to be an expert at it.

I apologize for any spelling and grammar errors. I don't know yet how to check the document.

Falling Leaves

There’s magic in the air today
Went for a walk
To catch messages
Sent my way

Yellow ochre leaves
Flutter around me

In front
A stocky, old, Asian man
The Yin Yang Gang
Emblazoned on his back
Bow legged
Pulling a collapsible shopping cart
Steps off the curb
Kicks something
Steps up and back down again
Kicks once more
A ball bouncing across the road
Lightens his load

Behind
A voice in the distance
Coming nearer and louder
A slim cyclist
On a grey, green serviceable bike
Bag draped over
Handle bar
His song unselfconscious
Words unintelligible
Singing to his i-pod?
No matter to him or to me
This is what it is to be free

Across
The street
Woman, middle-aged, running
Her left leg engulfed
In a black leg brace
Shock waves
Through her body
Her head
Angled to the right
Pain
Releasing pain
She withdraws from
To within
What makes her run?
Day after day
Carrying within her
That which she can not escape

Towards me
At that same moment
Another runner
Glides effortlessly
Smiles
Momentary waves
Hi
In a flash
He’s passed us by

Before me
In the distance
At first sight
A couple clutched together
Become
A young, black man
Providing support
For his tall, slim, dapper
Elderly
Blind friend
Ease, gentleness, patience, trust
Wash over me
A bending blade of grass
Wrapped up in conversation
I am invisible as they pass.

I took my father’s
Writing pad today
If he was baring it
He’d stop each one
And say,
“Tell me sir or madam
Where are you from?
Tell me your name
Tell me your story
Who are you?"

For days I wondered

Does the oak mourn its

falling

leaves?

(copyright Nance Thacker '09)

African thunderstorm

Hi All,

Stumbled out of bed Monday morning at the crack of 10 with sleep still in my eyes, turned on the computer, scanned my e-mails and played this video that a friend had sent to me...

African thunderstorm

Shared via AddThis

Wow! Play it now, if you haven't yet. I'll wait...
...
...
...

It's magical, fun and uplifting; isn't it?

It really set a positive tone for the rest of the day.

As I mentioned in the last post. I can't sing to save my life but it reminded me that although I can't reproduce a melodic tone I sure can appreciate one. My ear has perfect pitch it's my vocal cords that are demented.

My body can't sit still once the music plays - actually that's a fact that I discovered years ago...

Life drawing class for animators at Sheridan College gave our instructor, Suzanna Wald, the opportunity to expose her students to the finest in music and culture. Classical music often drifted in the background, intended to free our spirits so that our artistic genius could emerge.

Unfortunately for her, many a classical masterpiece has been forever wired into every animator's mind (including mine) with images of Bugs Bunny, dancing hippos or some Warner Brothers lunacy which would set her class into fits of giggling or smirks. Having come to Canada later in her life she did not share the same childhood cultural reference and it took her aback.

So one day, when I was modelling for her class, she decided to change things up, play something we would have no reference to so she put on the Gipsy Kings. Suzanna had spent much of her teen and early adulthood in Argentina and had a passion for all things Latin. So much so that I thought she was Spanish but in fact she was born in Belgium. (In fact I found out a few months ago that she was the author for Spanish for Dummies - I kid you not. I was perusing the book in the ongoing effort to find the best resources with which to teach myself Spanish and lo and behold there it was, her name in black and white.) Anyway, the Gipsy Kings, whom I love, but the frikin' Gipsy Kings!?

Gimme a break!

It was nothing short of torture for my kinesthetically dominant self to endure the hours of heart rending, foot stomping, imagery inducing, passionate music of pure ALIVENESS. Music's vibrations dance within every molecule of my being. Every muscle in my body was cramping up under the strain of trying to remain perfectly still. During the breaks I'd have to run around, shake my limbs, jump up and down to releive the tension. If I remember rightly, I threatened her with severe bodily harm in the future if she ever played anything more stimulating than a waltz.

This video also made me realize why I became a cheerleader in highschool. I know this sounds unrelated but it's really not. Sure there was all the "Yea Bob. Yea Smith. Yea yea Bob Smith" stuff, the running around with pom poms, getting the crowd stirred up to a frenzy but I became a cheerleader because this was the closest I'd ever get to singing and dancing.

It's paradoxical really. I was painfully shy and couldn't bring myself to mingle with the crowd at the end of the game - instead I made a bee line straight for the change room. For a kid that spent most of her time alone drawing, working out, lifting weights, doing yoga (before it was cool) cheering made me seem "normal", gave me the chance to be somebody else and was an incredible outlet for vibrant expression.

The "silent" cheer came into vogue when I was cheering. It was simply the use of snapping fingers, clapping of hands, stomping of feet in rythmic patterns while moving into and out of formations - interspersed with jumps here and there - with the voice used minimally to maximum effect. We spent hours working out those patterns of percussion and perfecting the synchronicity of our movements. And, when we went on centre court to debut these "cheers" we were more than cheerleaders - our bodies sang and became music itself!

So, as I watched African thunderstorm, the stunningly creative, simple beauty of the singers as they used their bodies and voices to create sound and invoke image - my heart sang.

WEIRD - Life's Like This

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.