Confessions of a yoga slut

I'm a yoga slut. Ahh. There, I've said it. 

I recently purchased a first-timer's one month's trial membership to a yoga studio. In order to make the most of it, I'm holding on to it while I work on another intro membership deal from a different place. I drop in to yoga classes taught by old friends. Recently I invested in a 12 day punch card special offer at an athletic club gaining full use of facilities + yoga class. And…I'll be seeking out more intro deals, so that I can check out more studios and see what local teachers have to offer.

In the spare room at the  folks place 2010

Such promiscuity! 

I would have never done this in the past. 

For the first 7 years of my practice I was self-taught, drawing from books and TV programs. Gymnastics, or rather the lack of support for the gymnastics program at my high school, brought me to yoga. It was kind of like gymnastics. As I explored all the many different  possibilities that the asanas offered I created my own flow and sessions. The physical, mental, emotional and spiritual benefits of regular practice saved my life * 

I began to teach others now and then. In those days, if you knew more than the person you were teaching and had a certain amount of confidence pretty much anyone could teach.

I attended my first yoga class with a bunch of middle-aged female yoga teachers in 1975; we were part of the inaugural Sheridan College's Yoga Teachers' Training Program. They welcomed me with open arms and encouraged my aspirations to become a real teacher. I felt a camaraderie with these women.

Over the ensuing years I became part of, and was exclusively loyal (each in their own turn) to 3 different yoga studios.

On a deck at a cabin in the woods
a few summers back, Vermont

My first loyalty was to my fellow Victoria YMWCA yogis (aka Yoga Centre of Victoria), the group that I "grew up" with in yoga, that nurtured me through my early years from 1976 as a novice teacher. Yoga was yoga when I first began but different forms of yoga were becoming standardized through the '80's. Growing pains developed within the yoga community and along with them came politics and power struggles. Our group began to divide into Iyengar and non-Iyengar yogis. Eventually we were expected to declare our loyalty. Though I'd immersed myself in the Iyengar approach, I was quite happy doing other forms as well. It felt very un-yogic to choose one over the other but, reluctantly, I choose. I aligned with the Iyengar group and lost touch with many teachers of other methods.

That was the first and only time that I denied my love for all forms of yoga/asana practice.

When I moved back to Ontario I retreated to the sanctuary of my own practice. The voices of my mentors and peers gradually slipped into the background and the freedom and creativity that initially drew me to yoga re-emerged. It was, surprisingly a lovely time. 

My first foray back into public yoga class took place in a Church gymnasium; so old-school. I welcomed diving into a new form - Ashtanga yoga with its breath based movement. It was a big contrast to the linear and alignment emphasis of the Iyengar method. Iyengar: Ashtanga = ballet: jazz, in my experience. Both are wonderful, very different, complementary forms. 

Soon afterwards, Sue, my inspiring teacher, and her business partner opened up a studio incorporating both Iyengar and Ashtanga under the same roof; unbelievable! I found my second community. And, for a time they thrived alongside each other… and then… they didn't. Split was inevitable.

Meanwhile I resumed teaching but my style, influenced by life experience, some physical set backs and Shiatsu studies, evolved. I had classes in Iyengar influenced yoga, ashtanga yoga and my own fusion - combining Iyengar, ashtanga, tai chi, do-in and meridian stretches. All these approaches fed my body, mind and spirit and I knew some, or all of them, would be a fit for fellow seekers too.

Spare hall at a construction site this year
Campbell River 

I witnessed the torch of yoga being passed down to the next generation when Sue's gifted daughter, Katie, opened up a yoga studio of her own. Once more I found a studio and teacher to love. I enjoyed doing advanced practices alongside her. Her yoga classes "took off", her following grew and the studio moved out of my neighbourhood in order to fulfill the increased demand fuelled by the yoga explosion that was taking place. 

Around this time my body was going through the changes of menopause and a debilitating neck issue flared up. My practice needed to change. No books, nor teachers could guide me. I retreated to my mat once more and drew from the wealth contained in the many approaches I'd practiced as I allowed my body's wisdom to guide me through the adaptations and explorations that it needed.

Over the course of 46 years of practice, I've become more open to embracing the many studios, many teachers and many approaches that thrive nowadays, perhaps because I know from experience that impermanence exists, even in yoga, and that there is wisdom contained in all schools.

Everything changes. 

I've done yoga everywhere. Of course, images promoting yoga show beautiful, long, lean, lithe yoga bodies doing impossibly intricate, challenging and perfect postures on mountaintops, in exotic locations, on deserted beaches; yoga as "lifestyle" has become big business. For most of us yoga is done in the "trenches" of daily life, the non-glam places that you don't see in the glossy mags: hospital and hotel rooms, in airplane and car seats (I'm small), construction sites (during breaks - no saws, drills or dust please), cottage decks and campsites (bugs and bees drop by now and again - some leave their marks), hallways, airports, nooks and crannies in our homes - anywhere a yoga mat will fit. Yes, and in yoga studios and classes too. 

With the kitties Christmas 2012
Burlington, Ontario

But my favourite practice and location goes something like this…It's late morning, mid-day or evening. I'm in my living room, on my mat, in my PJ's (Some of you thought I was going to say in the buff didn't you? Ha, surprise!). My kitties are bathing themselves or sleeping on their "princess" blanket or pillow or crinkly paper beside me or perched on a chair overseeing my practice. Music is playing, or it's not. I embrace the sound of my breath that breaks through: silence, the sound of birds singing, kids yelling or crying crocodile tears as their grand dramas unfold in play outside my door. Light streams in through the glass sliding doors; it's overcast and/or raining; it's dark. It's cold; it's warm. I'm breaking a sweat through vigorous movements and/or I'm chilln' and hanging out in long held asanas. A candle burns, or it doesn't.

From the moment I began my own practice I knew that I'd always have yoga in my life. My practice is a joyful expression of gratitude for those teachers who have come before me. It provides sanctuary, guidance, inspiration and solace during difficult times. 

It is a physical celebration of movement and stillness which transcends the physical. As I practice I give thanks.

When it's really cooking… yoga spills off the mat and into daily existence.

* You can read about this in STORIES FROM THE YOGIC HEART
And…you can get the Kindle version - here at Amazon.com. Note: Mine is but one of 27 inspiring stories about how yoga has influenced the lives of famous people and regular types like myself.

My Love/Hate Relationship with FB

No posts here since Sept 11th…wow! Where does the time go?
I've only written 3 entries since then on AWAKENING CHOICE DREAMS. Where have I been?

On that time-sucker Facebook, that's where.

Since my last entry I've been involved in a lot of "real life" stuff; really I have.

I've been stared at by Maya, a lot

I came across this little Stonehenge at one of my fave places
at the beach…AND, I repositioned 3 that had toppled over.
A man is holding back his kid from throwing stuff at it as I take the picture.
I don't know just how long others resisted the urge to destroy it.

Just last Saturday I went skating at the Empress.
The new owners have erected this tent which takes up one half
of the front lawn. You can rent skates, hats and gloves. The far end
is open to the view of the harbour. No stale, sweaty, mildewy arena smell here!

View from the outside, very festive.
They have music and hot chocolate and treats at reasonable prices.

I've had earth-shattering, life-changing thoughts; realizations worth sharing with the world. But…there's FB. Little "dings" emanate from my phone at random moments. Someone's out there reaching out, seeking connection with you. Come on, just check it out. You know you want to, you're soooo far away…

And, I'm snared. Just see what family and friends from all over the world are up to, have a "conversation" with them through comments, share a tidbit from your life, post a pic or 2. In the shake of a rabbit's tail you'll be done.

HA, ya right!?

I get sucked into the world of FB and I become less discriminate as the minutes tick by. Tick, tick, tick. Initially, friends' shares and comments link me to informative videos and newspaper articles. I get involved too! I sign petitions; I share them embellished with my own comments. I don't donate. One could go broke with the number of sites out there begging for donations. But, I'm proudly, socially informed, responsible and engaged, for a while…

Gradually, usually while I'm reading up on crucial news-rich entries of the day, my eyes begin to wander to the great supplier of brain candy; the sidebar. Little snippets caught at the corner of my eye begin to gnaw at my innards until, suddenly, I can't stand it anymore, I JUST HAVE TO KNOW. I HAVE TO KNOW about: the 10 Celebrities' Faces Most Botched Up From Plastic Surgeries, Celebrities Who You Didn't Know Were Related, Celebrities Who Live In Modest Homes Despite Having Millions, "Celebrities" doing or being this or that…

Educational nature, environmental and science entries supplied by my most learned, scholarly, friends, somehow have shifted over into the realm of cute animal videos: dancing penguins, piano playing cats, talking dogs, until the witching hour descends upon the members of my own animal kingdom - Flippy and Maya. Leaprotic* frenzy breaks out all around me, stirring me out of my FB-induced stupor.

I pull down the task bar. It's closing in on 1 a.m. and, though tired, I can barely pull myself away from the clutches of this most engrossing material.

Well, no more! 

After reading a discussion between 2 very creative friends about FB, on FB last night, I vowed to follow their lead. I'm pulling back, people!

30 minutes allowed today. I set my timer. Dig in and scroll down. 30 minutes; time is precious. I read only the most compelling entries. I comment on a selected few. I share only 3 items, my original limit when I first got on FB but which has since grown over time to 8 or more entries per day.

My phone glows as I write this. The latest FB comment directed to me appears on the screen. A thank you, I think, sent in response to a Happy Birthday message I'd sent to her. Does this glancing count as time used. I didn't enter into FB to get the info from FB, it just came…hmmm. 

A scant few moments after I'd signed off with…Damn! I was just about to check the exact wording that I'd used on FB, by going in but I'm going to resist. Let's try this again.

A scant few moments after I'd signed off on my status, to the effect that, I'd reached the quota I'd set for myself today, so I'm done; my longest-time friend (who's on vacation in Mexico…so far away but she's connecting with me) made some comments. I know this cus the screen on my phone glowed, it "dinged" and I caught a glimpse of the text, just enough to know it was from her but not what her comments were about, before it timed out and the message disappeared.

Oh, the temptation!

But I'm NOT BITING.

I'm not even going to post this til tomorrow.

"TAKE THAT FB!"

"Ya, we'll see how long this lasts!"

Who said that?

*       *       *

Follow up: It's now going on for 3 p.m. ( I know it says 6p.m., haven't figured out how to change the settings from Eastern Standard to Pacific time) the next day and I haven't gotten onto FB despite the fact that 19 messages await me. Another just came in, dropped it's way into the screen on my phone. 

This post will be one of my "shares" for the day so I needed to wait til I'm ready. Ready, here I go.

_____________________________________________________________________________

* LEAPROSY - Cats display a penchant for LEAPROSY - not to be confused with leprosy. One moment they are lazing around as only cats can and suddenly, as if a bee has bitten their butt, they jump up and as if possessed run around in fits and starts. This usually occurs at about the same time each day or night, depending on your cat. In Maya's case leaprosy hits just after we have gone to bed. She announces it with a brrritt, brrritt sound followed by stampeding through the house, bashing things about along the way, eventually pounding her little cat feet and skidding around the corner into my room, leaping onto my bed, running over my body, then catapulting herself (very appropriate for a cat to do) off of it to tear around the apartment again. An episode of leaprosy ends just as quickly as it begins with a sudden stop, and a look comes over their face (like you get when you way into a room and have forgotten just why you came in) followed with consolation bathing ( for the cat, not us, though this would be a good idea.)
INFO here taken and adapted from the original post NANCE'S WORD EMPORIUM

Settling in

This is the view from the front of our building. The glow is from the 3 cruise ships that were in dock that night. The tourist season will be winding down in a few weeks. It'll probably feel somewhat deserted around here. There's a kind of festive vibe when the ships come in. I'm glad however, that we don't face the road.

Maya (black) seems to be commenting on the view to Flip, "So whadda ya think? Not too bad, eh?"

We look on to a courtyard and pathways to the other buildings. Though it's pretty busy during the day: helicopters and sea planes taking off and landing, cruise ships docking, tour buses passing through and fog horns sounding, somehow it adds to the ambiance. Being in the back the noise is surprisingly muffled and when the action's done for the day it's lovely and quite. We're in the city but on the outer edge; the best of both worlds.

This pleases me no end and I'm shocked that it does. The spices have been piled into a basket in the pantry; not conducive to generating enthusiasm over cooking. I thought I'd chucked this shelf before we left but it seems Rod rescued it. It was meant to be here as it fits the space perfectly. The simplicity of this look pleases my eye. With my most used spices visible and within easy reach I've found cooking pretty pleasurable.

Here is our schedule

TA DA! Here is our latest project...the perfect kitty litter box to accommodate"Squirt" aka Maya who has taken up spraying over the edge of conventional boxes and Flippy who loves to poo just outside the kitty box and scatter kitty litter all over the floor. It took a few prototypes before we came up with this beauty.

HOW TO CONSTRUCT: get a big storage bin, cut a big access hole. Surround the bin with a room divider for privacy and improved visual appeal.

HOW TO SET UP THE LITTER: dump kitty litter and baking soda (I add my own) in the box, mix together, shove it to the back half of the bin. In this model there is a small trough around the base so make sure it too is filled with litter or pee will pool there.

HOW IT WORKS: Maya squirts against the back wall. Flippy poos on the floor of the bin so litter is pretty much confined to, the floor of the bin. You know it's time to clean it out when the litter covers the floor, after that they'll spread it further. You have to keep it from advancing like the polar ice cap during the ice age.

 As soon as the box is cleaned Flip and Maya take turns checking it out and making their marks. This picture gives a sense of scale and as you can see Flip's choosing her poo spot just beyond the litter. The screen hides the box from view of our front door to the right of the shot but not from the prying lens of my camera.

Setting Up & Homecoming

We've been in our new neighbourhood, James Bay, for 19 days now. Blogging hasn't been a priority due to these events...

Written at the base of the Terry Fox Statue at Mile 0 in Beacon Hill Park

Because our 17 ft van was soooo loaded we've been de-cluttering and getting rid of things. After-all, 2 businesses got packed up as well as personal stuff. And it all has to fit into a 2 bedroom apartment as we downsize from a 3 bedroom + garage with full basement all with ample storage.

Ah storage space, the great deceiver, lulled me into thinking that I possessed little. It was just tucked away and forgotten. Though we're not consumers, 27 years has given us plenty of time to accumulate. A little thing here and a little thing there, it all adds up to a sh**load of stuff.

Boxes full of stuff have gone to the Salvation Army; more is yet to follow. Some of Rod's stuff will go to good use when we donate it to Habitat for Humanity. 3 boxes of books await delivery to a second hand bookshop in hopes that they can overlook those that are earmarked, underlined and filled with notes in the margins... pretty much all of them.

I've allotted myself 1 bookcase to house my most treasured books. Though Kindle fulfills much of my desire to own material I still love the look and feel of the printed page!

Lugging this stuff all the way across country wasn't a mistake. Surprisingly, what seemed essential from my Burlington life's vantage point changed the instant we got here confirming that I actually am starting  a new phase of my life. Who knows where it will lead? I only know that I have to be a whole lot less encumbered in order for it to really take off. As things drop away I'm feeling lighter and lighter.

There will be more de-cluttering over the next few weeks: slides and photos need to be consolidated; 3 boxes of letters and cards (down from 4) carted back and forth from B.C. to Ontario over the years are waiting to be re-read, let go or kept; and the 4 boxes of Christmas decorations were too much to get into before we left.

4 boxes of mine - 2 small and 2 huge ones remained unexplored, filled with God knows what unessentials. I got into all but the biggest one today and miracle of miracles it all fits into the cabinet that Rod made me. The rule is if I don't love it, it's gone. Hmm, still loving a fair bit...we've got great storage in this place - yikes!

Exhausted little girl

Flippy and Maya arrived on the Mon the 12th thanks to the efforts to Pam and Morgie (her handsome grey and white longhaired cat) aka Special Air Freight Agent and Crew. Pam picked them up from the Cats' Castle, gave Flippy a shoulder to snuggle and Maya pats to soothe, put them up for the night and arose at some ungodly hour the next morning to chauffeur them to the airport for 6a.m. Via cel phone she gave me a play by play of the events as they unfolded. I slept on our couch in the living room so as not to disturb Rod with her early morning reports.

Upon coming home, the girls slinked around the apartment for a good while. Then Flippy disappeared for 90 minutes. I couldn't find hide nor hair of her and it was freaking me out. To calm and assure myself I kept repeating the mantra, She didn't get out, she's in here somewhere. And just like magic she walked out of a closet I'd checked umpteen times.

Later, out of the corner of my eye, I caught her squeezing herself through an opening, seemingly half of her girth in width, in the kick under the kitchen cupboards. One leg and her tail were all that I had to grab in order to haul her outta there.

It was all too much stimulation for her so I wrapped her up in a blankie, sat on the bathroom floor with her and closed the door. Feeling secure once more she was out for a few hours while I read.

Yin and Yang - Maya finds consolation with Flippy

Maya, intrepid explored that she is, seemed unscathed. But while we watched TV she crashed behind me, laying on the back of the couch for the rest of the night.

The rest of the time we were: visiting and exploring the city and some choice restaurants with Rod's sister and her hubby who were in town for a few days and staying at a nearby hotel, exploring the hood and doing all that needs doing when one changes residence from Ontario to B.C.

Once the B.C. license plates were put on my car it felt official...WE LIVE HERE!

Safe Passage

Suitcase Diaries Road Trip: Moving to Vancouver Island
Day 1

This image is magical and is exactly how I feel as I drive.

I'm writing from THE RICHARD LAKE MOTEL in Sudbury where Ryan Reynolds once stayed. I know this because there's a signed pic of him predominantly displayed at the reception desk. We pulled in at about 10:30; finally left Burlington around 3:30 after a tearful good bye to Flippy and Maya who will be staying at the CAT'S CASTLE until the 12th. Little Maya was a real trouper, walking around their room checking out the other residents while Flippy was having a melt down hovering in a corner in their kennel. Ron brought her a privacy tent where she could hide til she felt safe

I have been having flash backs during our drive today through southern Ontario; a place that I know well from past experiences.

I waved goodbye to the urban sprawl that is happening above the #5; something Burlington residents were promised would never happen due to the importance of our farmlands but the powers that be have not stood by their word. Rod and I marvelled that neighbours can now watch people enjoying the roller coasters at CANADA'S WONDERLAND. I don't know when this happened as it used to be in the middle of nowhere. We wondered how long it will be until residents of the neighbourhood complain about the noise.

King City, the location for my lomi trainings with Harriette and Birgit, reminded me of my lomi ohana (family). Lomi really was responsible for setting the wheels in motion for this whole adventure. As I worked with the power of intention my intentions became clearer as to who I wanted to be and one thing lead to another and here I am taking a journey I really wasn't thinking of in 2005. Thanks go out to Lynne, my flying instructor for saying to me, about lomi "You, of all people, really have to do this!"

Mount St Louis is where Nor drove to through horrendous snowstorms so that we could go downhill skiing. Across the road the cross country course where Ellen, Arnie, Rod and I enjoyed a spring skiing on corn snow wearing only sweaters and jeans being careful not to end up in the pool of water which had formed at the end of the trail cus your skis would come to a grinding halt and you'd be catapulted into the puddle in the blink of an eye.

As we pass the sign for Lake Rousseau I realize that my niece had lived up here for a few years; lucky girl! Rod and I rented a cottage on nearby Lake Muskoka in '94.  That was when I discovered my love of kayaking and the "Thacker" wave was born. My brother Rob and Dad came up with a virtual flotilla in tow including a yellow kayak. Since he had to drive at a snail's pace to accommodate the load, Dad waved on the cars behind them to encourage them to pass. However, to the mortification of my brother, Dad's arthritic fingers made it look like he was giving them "the finger" so drivers gave them "the look"as they passed.

The sign for WHITE SQUALL kayaking outfitters and school takes me back to the self-rescue training weekend with my late friend Mary. Being small, nimble and fit, it was easy peasy for me to get in and bail the craft out numerous times, not so for my much larger friend. She gained my total respect as she displayed patience, perseverance and ingenuity as she made attempt after attempt and finally, nearly totally worn out, completed one rescue.

Parry Sound carries memories of Bryan's cottage where I spent almost the whole weekend in the buff laying on a rock like a lizard when I wasn't swimming or feeding the chipmunks. Near there is a cut off for Marisa's cottage. A few years ago she hosted a wine and cheese tasting evening and sleep over for  "Council of the Sleepover" members. This was my first long drive one that I was too chicken to do the year before. And now I've embarked on the quintessential Canadian road movie experience - driving across the country to a life that fits better.

I was going to say a better life, but that isn't so. The past 27 years has been an amazing ride and I have truly been blessed with wonderful friends and clients. The past few months have been filled with emotional endings and good byes but how lucky am I to have to endure this.

The Council of the Sleepover promised me that if I returned to Ontario there would be lots of get togethers and they didn't disappoint! Thank you, thank you, thank you

The chocolates Susan and Neil dropped into the mailbox for Rod and I to savour during the journey never made it out of the house. In true comfort food fashion they comforted us during our time of need, the hectic few days of packing up our stuff.

I eat a bagel from Tim's paid for by the GC from Regina and Sandy as I drive to tunes selected for me by 2 friends Russ and Dan: one compilation CD is all about dreams whereas the other is a bit of a blast from the past - Moody Blues and the Cowboy Junkies. The walkie talkie endorsed by Andrea sits beside me and allows "little buddy" to communicate with "my guy" who leads the way in the U-haul (I'd have taken a pic of the insides of it but, being one who claims not to have a lot of stuff, I find it too embarrassing as it's packed to the gills).

On my dash is the eagle feather that I found on the island last year; the one that called me back "home". Alongside this is the beautiful safe passage basket that Sue crafted for me just for this special journey and in it is a scroll containing this poem. I'm not sure whether Sue is its author or not - she may have told me when she presented me with it but I was internally too emotional to take it all in.

I carry with me other gifts: the spectacular journal (it will be christened during dream teacher training II at Mosswood in Sept) from Di my always meant to be sister-in-law; the golden shawl from my 97 year old inspiring amiga Liliane; most special heart stones from Kalani and Flo; knitting needles from my knitting buddies Pam and Glyn; feather earrings (that I'm wearing now, that came with a fantastic necklace) from Marisa; the picture from Aust and Linda of downtown Oakville in the winter (as we won't have many of those on the island) Oakville as I remember it from when I worked across the road at Oakville Shiatsu and Massage Therapy Centre; the tree of life glass work from our "Dan's party" friends; and Rod and I will enjoy many a meal funded by Roseanne and Pete, Dave and others; the feminine pee kit from my longest time friend Janet (I promised her a product review so check in frequently to read that...)

And there are those gifts that touch my heart, fare well get togethers with: Sue and Katie; Austin and Linda; Susan and Neil; Eva; Rob, Sue, Candy and Rick; a visit from Montrealers Kathy and Jim complete with Montreal bagels from that cool 24 hr bakery and Jim's helping hands to ease Rod's load on those final workdays; Pam and my visit to Flo's where we witnessed that amazing rainbow around the sun; being drummed out for a safe journey at the last full moon fire ceremony by Janet (and the sacred spit, called by another name :-)) and the 19 other participants; Glynnie's "don't go" spontaneous burst in the middle of dinner which made us all jump and then burst out laughing at last weekend's "Council of the Sleepover" sleepover; Austin's company and help on Tuesday as we prepared to load the truck which lightened our load; the kind people at the kitty castle. Candy's last minute errands. Pam's help with the kitties, and our next door neighbour who took a ton of stuff this aft saving me from taking it to the reuse centre. The telephone chats with my sister Jude and the e-mails from so many; the list goes on and I'm sorry if I missed anyone.

People dropped by to say bon voyage (some more than once) and client's came for that one last session.

How can I leave them I ask. And, that's how it should feel. Thank you all for your kind wishes, your calls, hugs and words of encouragement and support. You are in my heart always!

And, last of all, goodbye 5305. When I came back to Ontario I never imagined I'd ever own a place of my own, have my own garden, let alone renovate it (that amazing bathroom too) with my guy. What a gift you have been!

Maya's "fuzzy" was the last thing I found when I took a final tour.

...and exhale everybody!

A-a-a-a-h-h-h-h, that's the relieving sound of a big exhaled breath.

I haven't posted since May 6th because, I've been doing my version of goin' holoholo around the sale of our home and move to Victoria. Rod and I have talked about living on Vancouver Island for years, saying that, "In 3 years we'll move out there." 

Guess what? 3 years is up.

I've returned to the island 4 times since I moved back to Burlington in '86. I was anxious that the first visit would leave me pining for Victoria and surrounds and was totally surprised to discover that in my heart I knew that Ontario was exactly where I was supposed to be. Not only supposed to be but wanted to be. I was totally content to come back after that visit and after the second one but, in 2010 things changed. I was getting stirrings. I found myself perusing the want ads for homes for sale. I wandered the streets under the guise of going for a walk but in reality I was checking out what was available. 

So, when we attended our niece's wedding in Aug last year we both knew the time was right. This was confirmed when Rod returned home to Burlington while I stayed on for another few weeks. We both came to the same conclusion, during our time apart. We need to move now while we have many years to explore the island and use it as a home base from which to venture to areas on the west coast of Canada and the U.S., Hawaii, Asia, New Zealand and Australia. 

To say I'm excited is an understatement. 

But, once the decision was made I strangely felt the need to keep it kinda hush, hush. I didn't want to jinx it (taking the holoholo casual approach). I waited til January to tell my clients we were leaving as I imagined them all bailing on me in a mad rush to find another therapist. This didn't happen. In fact I've been busier than ever as many are wanting that, "one last treatment". And, I couldn't dare write about it because that for sure would mess things up, and since that's been the A#1 thing on my mind; the thing I'd most likely blab about, I had to avoid my blog like the plague.

But now, not only has our place sold but we, just yesterday, landed our apartment, the place that will be home for the first year at least, if not longer.

A-a-a-a-h-h-h-h!

So this is what you'll see on our lawn until Sat when, having fulfilled COMFREE's request to put it up for 2 weeks, we can take it down.

Flippy's in shock and later takes to my bed for the day

On July 31st Rod and I, having closed up shop, will leave family and friends, and embark on, the subject of the iconic Canadian movie, a road trip across the country to fulfill our dreams for the future.

The day before I put the sign up waves of nausea washed over me. After we hammered it into the lawn Flippy stayed away from her usual post in front of the door as neighbourhood watch, she ate very little choosing to lay on my bed most of the day; she was in a funk. 

I told Rod, "Flippy's really bummed by the sign."

"I didn't know she could read," he replied.

I laughed, "No, that sign isn't supposed to be there. It's just not how her front yard is supposed to look." But secretly I wonder...  

And, Maya our other spayed female kitty, has taken up spraying in her spare time earning her a new nick name...Squirt. 

I don't know what they're so worried about. They're going to stay in a kittie retreat centre, be flown out in high style, met at the airport and chauffeured to their home where they'll continue to be spoiled rotten.

To say we're all a little anxious would also be an understatement.

Maya's Sanctuary

On Mothers' Day I was one of 5 therapists providing bodywork sessions at the Ladybird Animal Sanctuary Fair. I did Shiatsu while 3 massage therapists and 1 reflexologist worked their magic. From 1 - 5 p.m. we pretty much went non-stop in the theatre space at the Pearl Company in Hamilton while bands played, literally overhead, in the music venue upstairs.
Elsewhere in the venue there was drumming, yoga, face painting and arts and crafts for kids. Moms got to enjoy sessions with us and have their tarot cards read. Between sessions I grabbed 2 pieces of cake from one of the many bake sale tables and perused the artist stands.
Rod and I have 2 wonderful rescue cats - Maya and Flippy so this cause is close to my heart. Maya came to us from Oakville Humane Society and Flip from Burlington Animal Aid (now Burlington Humane Society).

"How long are you in for Maya?" we ask her.
She kinda looks pathetic; like she's in incarceration.
She's just finished playing with one of her
"fuzzies" (note it in foreground).
.

As you can see, she's a lovely black kitty. What you can't see are the cute white spots on her throat, chest and tummy. She and Flip are our fur babies. Maya was a 6 week old kitten who came into OHS with her litter mates and over a dozen other neglected cats rescued from a bad situation. A little over a year later she was the only one remaining from the batch. A high percentage of cats in shelters are black. Superstition plus the fact that they are more modest than their flashy counterparts means they are often overlooked.
Though daily efforts were made by the staff to socialize Maya, she was a frightened kitty slinking about for out places to hide when she was brought to meet us in the visiting room. Her future didn't look promising but she captured our hearts and though we had intended to get one cat after our beloved cat Max died (also adopted from Burlington Animal Aid) we couldn't not take her home. The next morning we both agreed we'd be coming home with 2 cats.

She hung her head down with both paws
over the rim of her kitty box at OHS and looked so sad.

"She will probably always stay in hiding, in a closet or under a dresser," we were warned.
That didn't matter to us. She'd have to opportunity to wander about the house if she choose; or not.
I was however concerned that she and Flip may have difficulty bonding. So we took our time in introducing them to each other. Over the next few days we alternated confining each to a bedroom while the other was free to roam the house. Maya chose mainly to remain under the dresser. But they sniffed each other through closed doors. We switched their rooms and left the other cat's towel behind so that they could get used to the other's scent.
Then came the meeting...

We placed each cat in their crate facing each other at a distance. In increments we inched them closer and then leave them for a bit. When there was only a small space left between them we dangled string and toys for them to play with. They fixed their eyes on their prey; their paws almost touched every time they swiped at the objects before them. Slowly we opened the doors and they emerged. And from that moment on Flip became Maya's mentor and social therapy cat. For the first few years when Maya wasn't in hiding she was glommed on to Flip.
And though she may hide when company comes and let you know very quickly when she's had one pat too many with a warning hiss and bat of a paw with claws retracted, every time I look at her I'm reminded how lucky we are to have our little rescue kitty.

That's Maya's story and I'm reminded of it every time I see her like this. And, though it doesn't look like it she'll tell you that she's actually very happy hanging out on the rungs of the stool in her home...when she's not taring around the house, bugging us for pats or to play with her numerous fuzzy toys.

JUST STEP IN IT!

I love a bright, sparkly, shiny, New Year better than any other time of year! It holds so much promise for newness or at least freshened resolve to try yet one more time to make it a great one.
Take this observation that I posted on FB just the other day...

If I could step into opportunity the way I step into cat poo, I'd be unstoppable. How is it possible that in a space of 1100 square feet, my foot (unbeknownst to the rest of me) smells it and makes a bee line to it like a fly on shit. PBG (poopy butt girl) strikes again. She gets a butt shave and the house is sanitized within an inch of its life.


I know this doesn't sound very promising, but if you really look at it, it's surreal, kind of like a dream.

TITLE: I'll call it - STEPPING INTO OPPORTUNITY. Feels better already, doesn't it? Better than STEPPING INTO CAT POO.

FEELING: How do I feel in the "dream"? You'd think my primary feeling would be pissed off, but it's not. It is amazement!

REALITY CHECK: How can this possibly happen with such unerring accuracy? I find it especially significant that Rod NEVER EVER smells it nor steps in it. Why just the other day, the warm, wafting odour of freshly made poo found its way all the way down to the nasal receptors of the thing that lives at the bottom of the stairs (that would be me). I followed its trail like a bloodhound in search of a missing child. I sniffed my way up the stairs and all through the ground floor, then up another flight of stairs and directly to the top floor only to find the steaming pile not 2 feet away from Rod who was merrily, obliviously surfing the web. Though there was an exception to the rule in that I didn't step in the pile, the incident proved categorically that this delivery is for me and me alone.
So, does this happen in real life? Of course it does :)
Is it likely to happen in the future? Of course it will :(
Are the people in the "dream" acting like they do in waking life? Yes.
Could it be a metaphor for something else...? Here's where it turns around as evidenced by my opening sentence. If I could step into opportunity the way I step into cat poo, I'd be unstoppable. And this leads me to...

WHAT DO I WANT TO KNOW about the dream: Could I step into opportunity the way I step into cat poo? What if I was able to refine my sense of smell, a primary survival instinct which resides in the  first chakra and the primitive brain, to sniff out opportunity? What if I was able to step unerringly into opportunity just like I do cat poo, without agonizing about it or trying to figure it out, just going with the flow and letting it find me; without weighing the pros and cons, doubting myself and my abilities but just trusting that, YES I CAN STEP IN IT! Not only that, but I WILL STEP IN IT with as much total conviction as I do with poo. WOW I truly would be unstoppable. The world would be my oyster instead of a steaming pile of shit (note, in real life I don't feel that life is a steaming pile of shit, it just makes a nice comparison).

HONOUR: How will I honour my "dream"?
Go with the flow, do what I love and let opportunity find me. Stop resisting and putting up barriers when things are going my way. Trust that, when it comes to my "big dreams" I too can have them become reality, just like they do for so many people I know.

BANNER: JUST STEP IN IT!

Wow, I love a bright and shiny New Year!
May you all have the best year ever and remember to JUST STEP IN IT!

SPRING IN SOUTHERN ONTARIO!

I am Canadian and I live in Burlington Ontario so I supposed I shouldn't be shocked by the sight that greeted me this morning (our 3rd day of spring) when I looked out the door.

Call me a wimp if you will, but I quickly closed the door, cranked up the heat and decided to work from home for the remainder of the morning.

Earlier this morning I'd cancelled my 30K Around the Bay training walk with Candy. We'd try for later in the day we both agreed and once I hung up the phone I dove back into bed for some early morning drifting of my own.

I'd hoped that when I next opened the door I'd find the blaze of the afternoon sun had melted all the snow and I could drive off in my chariot unobstructed and be off for my walk. This was not to be so. Candy and I deemed conditions too lousy for even an afternoon saunter.

But errands were begging to be tended to and before ALF W and I could head out some serious shovelling had to be done. In this pic, serious shovelling resulted in this bleak, windswept sight. It is as cold as it looks!

And, here's where all of the heavy, wet stuff, plus chunks of ice got put. My front yard is under there somewhere. I do like the nice little drift to the left of the tree. It shows you the direction of the wind. For every toss of snow I heaved into the air a substantial amount pelted me in the face. On the plus side; I won't need to exfoliate for days!












Though initially Flippy was disappointed that I'd shut the door this morning and robbed her of her morning ritual of overseeing her domain, in her capacity as the mistress of the neighbourhood, on subsequent investigation I swear I clearly heard her say, "what the F**k!"

Winter in all its glory!

Cute little bunny trail in our back yard.

On the Bruce trail someone left carrots
perhaps for cute little bunnies or deer?

Flippy decides she's done with winter and wants nothing to do with it.
She holes up in my clothes closet amongst all of my
dark sweaters, of course

How my Big Beautiful Girl was able to get up in there
I'll never know.

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KITTY CAM

Here at 5305 it's all kitties all the time. 

I have gotten a new camera and of course it's full of cats!

Flip doesn't care that her butt is falling off.
She slept like this on this bag full of fabric for a few hours.

Maya has to try it out of course.
Flip chooses a freshly laundered kitty blankie full of catnip
- note the contented look on her face!

A study in black and white.
They love this couch!

Find the black kittie on the couch.
When her eyes are closed you can barely see her.
You have to be careful when you sit down.

It'll take a while for me to get the hang of this camera; I'd just felt comfortable with the old one when it chose to go kaphlooey. It was cheaper to buy a new one than fix the old one, of course. But, I love its portability... and it takes video too.

Lots more fun to be had exploring this new stuff. Youtube watch out!

The cat's ass

Tonight, Rod and I were enjoying of a lovely tilapia, baked potato and asparagus dinner, in our dimly lit dining area, while watching Rick Mercer, when suddenly Flippy ejected out of her kitty litter box (Pic is of the kitties cute "throne room" that Rod built into the wall at the end of the dining area, conveniently accessed through the garage for easy cleaning.) like something shot out of a cannon.

She flew past us almost hitting the glass sliding doors at the far end of the room before executing a one eighty, flying past us again on her trajectory out the room, down the hall and up the stairs.

For a brief moment I thought umm something's up her ass, maybe you should check up on her.

But, she's a cat, what can be the big deal? Probably got a case of leprosy. And so, without missing a beat, we continued eating.

So, I'm up here in the den checking out other peoples' blogs when Rod comes into the room. "Boy, somethin' doesn't smell right up here" he says.

Rod, of all people, notices something smelling bad, unheard of.

I have to say this is a first especially since I don't smell it. He says, "It smells like someone's had a dump." Immediately I know where to look. Aaargh, sure enough Poopy Butt Girl has struck again, depositing a gloppy, blob of diarrhea on my freshly changed duvet.

As I'm heading down the stairs on my way to the laundry room with duvet in hand I catch a whiff of poo as she runs past me in the other direction, no doubt to eager to rub the cling-ons (neologism: bits of poo stuck to someone's butt) on to my futon.

I throw her into the clink (the upstairs bathroom) so that she might consider the severity of her crimes against humanity and have a chance to clean her butt as penance, but, when I come to check on her, she shows no sense of remorse and has declined to tend to the matter.

Is she the cat's ass? A term described in the urban dictionary as: "A person, thing or event to be held in high regard. From the meticulous treatment and devotional attention a feline bestows on its hindquarters." Hah, no!

Does she have a cat's ass? Yes, but now it's sporting a summer butt clip.

guru kitty

Spirit

heavily laden

with

worldly matters

Pillow sitting white cat Smiles

Spirit

Soars

Spring has sprung!

Spring is sprung

the grass is riz

I wonder where dem

boidies is

SPRING IN THE BRONX

by Anon

Well I know where they is!

The noisy brats (normally I love nature and all of her creatures) were all outside my window at 5 a.m. this morning, causing Maya to rediscover her wild side. Massive "brrrritting" and tearing about of kitty feet insued: over me, onto the window sill, down the stairs to the living room window, up the stairs, over me, onto the window sill and on and on like some kind of blurry, furry, rubber-on-the-road-free, gas-free Indy 500. Flippy seemed

unaware and, unlike me, continued journeying in the land of nod - lucky little sod.

I finally gave up, got up and began looking (yes, we're talkin' bout before 7a.m.) to no avail, for a cartoon I did years ago that would be very appropriate for today. Though I was unable to unearth it I did find:

- the cables and booklet to the TOMTOM that died (this announcement may be premature - won't know til Rod checks it out) in ALF W a few weeks ago. I had conveniently put them in a ziplock bag on the top shelf of a storage unit in the office. Logic told me we'd just have to bend down and look and voila there it would be. No such luck. In typical fashion I couldn't find it til I wasn't looking for it anymore.

- a stash of old cartoons and PMT's I forgot I had. I don't know what PMT stands for. It is old technology. I was trying to put together a book in the early '90's but ran out of steam as it was so time consuming and daunting a task that I became overwhelmed. A PMT was a photo reproduction process that enabled you to resize the images and cut and paste them into your layout and resulted in a clear, crisp image. Do I feel ancient or what?

- old YOGA CENTRE OF VICTORIA NEWSLETTERS compiled into 2 book set, which sent me down memory lane as I leafed through the pages.

And, then I decided to take some photos of the garden and of a bouquet of flowers that Di tastefully arranged for us last night as I was preparing a non-traditional lasagna Easter dinner for she, Roger, Austin, Linda, Rod and I.

All in all it was a very productive extra few hours. But, maybe tonight as I hit the sack I'll keep the window closed.

mucking about

Here I am pondering the wonders of the computer age. This is a pose I suppose I take a lot now that I'm addicted to blogging.

Just mucking about and not knowing what it does, I clicked on Photo Booth. BAM! There I was on the screen staring back at myself - it was a bit of a shock - didn't have time to prepare myself for what I was about to see. I preferred the pencil rendering to the photo style so this is what you see here. It sets a rather reflective tone, don't you think?

Rod said tonight, "just a few years ago we both said we'd never have cell phones or e-mail because we didn't want to be accessible 24/7. And now we can't even go a single day without using them. Who'd have thought that we'd have 2 cell phones and (as of a few weeks ago) 2 computers... and we've almost figured out how to use them!"

I'm amazed at how essential this technology has become personally and professionally. Many clients now make their appointments through e-mail. And, dare I say it, I'm actually getting to enjoy what this stuff can do.

Blogging has helped me so much. It motivates me to learn because I'm curious as to what I can do by experimenting. It's just me, the keyboard, my camera and my imagination. What can I do with all of this? I check out the work of others and am inspired by the work I see them producing.

The picture placement on my last post sucked so I am now trying out the new post editor; didn't realize that there even was a new version. My picture placement looked fine until I posted it and then it just got weird and so I consulted the help section of blogger and found out about the updated version.

Just yesterday morning, over a cup of coffee and a croissant at Pane Fresco, after a training walk in prep for Around the Bay, Candy told me to check out Julie's blog - A Really Good Yarn - (Julie owns The Needle Emporium in Ancaster). Candy, an avid reader and fan of knitting blogs, had seen some mention of picture placement in one of Julie's entries.

Wouldn't you know it, later that same day after a knitting session with Pam and Glyn, Pam and I decided to go to Julie's shop today to get some assistance with the Inside Outside Scarf that we thought would be so much "fun to do" but was instead causing us huge agro.

Fantastic! Today I was able to hit 2 birds with one stone getting not only knitting but blogging help too. Could a day be any better than that?

And, as you can also see, Flippy approves of the new computer. Here she is, last Friday, marking her territory rubbing her little saliva glands all over it. I tried to shove her away, but she was persistent.

As I took the picture I noticed Maya sitting patiently in the doorway. (Look really closely, she's to the left of Flip; you can see her silhouette against the green wall.) I lost track of time and, according to them, it was getting around dinner time. Maya (aka The Opportunist) was waiting for Flip to do her magic - bug the hell out of me until I give in to her demands.

Since the cats rule the household I was eventually forced to do their bidding otherwise I feared that the laptop would become a gooey mess, permanently anointed with kitty slobber. I'm still in the infatuation stage. I still store it in the box it came in and that's where it'll go now.

Good night...or rather, good grief I should say, "Good morning."

P.S. Thanks for the help Julie - it works great!