I've moved my blog to WP: idefiningi.wordpress.com
Showing posts with label review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label review. Show all posts
March 18, 2017
adjust (v.)
I’ve been back in Vancouver for almost four weeks now. It took me some time to get adjusted, and I still think I’m adjusting. When I got off the plane, I made my way through Customs (with a slight uncertainty about whether to mark the ‘resident’ or ‘visitor’ section of the landing card, knowing well that I am not officially a BC resident yet). The main feeling I had was excitement, as it bubbled through me, knowing Jason was on the other side. Some anxiety surfaced as well, of course – and at brief moments, a sinking feeling.
We hurried ourselves through the airport and out, in our own way fleeing this reminder that I had actually arrived from London – the airport and all my suitcases was a direct call out to the fact that I had actually been there, that long. We talked like no time had passed, though, pushing the cart, discussing the flight and the movies I had watched, what I ate. We then were paused for a moment, in semi-awkward silence, by the parking attendant, waiting for him to wave a green light for us to cross into the parkade.
In the parking lot, I looked at him and the hustle of the task that was my airport pick-up dropped away. I felt heavy and an exhaustion from the idea of going back into Vancouver. I sunk a bit.
London was far behind physically, but having closed the door on that chapter now, the magnitude of the thousands of incredible moments of my last 18 months had huddled into a single memory: Dense with adventure and learning and joy, yet somehow less accessible in mind. In an instant, a year and a half of experiences turned into a single cloud of some one thing that had happened, my mind best recalling what my room on Croftdown Road looked like, emptied of my belongings, suitcases on the floor. I gulped away an oncoming tear, then reached out. We hugged for a long time.
Standing there in his arms by his car, I muttered, “I could do this forever. Can we do this forever. I don’t want to go anywhere. Let's just do this forever,” holding him tight.
And in the kind of way that only Jason knows how, he replied, “Yes, yes we can. But it costs a dollar for every 10 minutes.” I laughed into his chest and just like that I was light again, the tension gone. A warmth settled in me and I knew, at worst, he’d make me laugh through whatever awaited me.
adjust (v) from Late Latin adiuxtare "to bring near”
January 1, 2016
solution (n.)
[Originally published on my Life Actually blog, one day into 2016, GMT.]
In some ways, it doesn’t feel like the end of a year. One part of it may be because I feel like I cut a new chapter in November and so it doesn’t quite feel like something new is beginning.
Some part of it may have to do with the fact that despite all my efforts, I got sick on Dec 31st thanks to a string of big nights out (I’m talkin’ 10am returns home) around Christmas. I wound up mostly staying in (at least by the city’s standards), having the mellowest NYE to date. I woke up with a sore throat and wound up on the couch at my roomie Tara’s parents place, reading and drinking mulled wine under the Christmas lights, then falling asleep for three hours to the sounds of Ben Hur on the TV. I eventually made it home with Tara where we continued with the lounging and lemon tea drinking, and after a short ringing in of the new year with my dad and his friends down the road, I walked home, had a bath and went to bed. Somewhat disappointing given that I’m finally living in a city that really knows how to ring in the new year; but at the end of it all, it’s all the same; another arbitrary night in the calendar, marked there to remind us to reflect on a period of time and create some intentions about our future.
I feel I’ve been doing this kind of thing, this reviewing and reflecting, non-stop since I moved here, though, so no hard feelings in retrospect. It’s been an active process for me for the last, dare I say, year - and this is something I want to emphasize as I create my “resolutions” for 2016. And by resolutions, I mean re-solutions.
So much of our life is bound by habit. What we do repeatedly becomes our life. For this reason, I think the best resolutions we can make are those that make us question the things we do that take up a whole year’s time (and eventually a whole lifetime).
What is the substance of our year that forges our long-term outcomes? How do our repeated ways of behaving/reacting reflect our embedded ways of thinking? It should be about challenging ourselves to leave particular patterns behind so we can reinvent and solve our current discomforts, problems or tribulations.
Diminishing our philosophy of life to a “list of resolutions” is amiss; it’s an active evolution not a line-up of dead-end intents and attempts (and eventual surrenderings).
In light of this, I’m looking at last year’s resolutions to see what I can take from them, regardless of their ‘status’ or ‘expiry.’
(Of course there are 10.)
1. Travel to 5 new places. I realize now you can see new places every day without going anywhere. Really. (For example, even after 20 years of living there, I saw Vancouver for the first time this year in many ways.)
2. Get more of my work published. I realized all I really wanted was to write freely, maybe move someone with my words - even if it was just me.
3. Move to a new city to bring visible changes in my life. I realize now it wasn’t so much about learning to adapt to a new place as it was about seeing what parts of me wouldn’t change.
4. Keep running to stay healthy and fit. I’ve learned that fitness is not an end in and of itself, but rather a byproduct of and catalyst for emotional wellbeing. Excercise helps me stabilize my thoughts and emotions and I’m getting better at making the sound decision to exercise even when I’m not feeling mentally and/or physically up for it, which is a challenge.
5. Keep a gratitude journal - and I did. But I learned that showing gratitude is more essential.
6. Take professional development courses. I learned that you need to apply new knowledge to actually learn it though. One way I did this, when lacking the option at work, was by teaching it to others.
7. Save $7,000. This as an arbitrary number, but as far as arbitrary savings goals are concerned, any number is better than zero. You never know when you may need to cash in; what important time it’ll buy you later; what act of desperation it’ll quell, what peace it will give you (unfortunately, but realistically) that will help you make the better decision.
8. Read a minimum of 12 books. In the last six months, I’ve read only half of two. And these have made more difference than a fat pile of top 100 listers. (Infinite Jest, A Guide to the Good Life)
9. Get closer and more deeply connected to my parents and my closest friends. In the process, I made friends out of my parents, I fell in love with a friend, and I certain friends became like family.
10. Do something out of my comfort zone. I chose bellydancing, which culminated in a performance in front of 350 people. Suffice to say, trying something out of your comfort zone doesn’t bring it into your comfort zone. It just makes you see how well you handle discomfort.
For the first time, my new years resolutions aren’t top-of-mind or clear to me. Perhaps it’s because the plates have shifted so much below my state of being with this move to London that everything feels like a new habit to be formed. I am reconfiguring a lot of myself this year…so in a year’s time, all I ask of myself is that I do this mindfully, gently, thoughtfully. That’s all; and it’s a whole lot.
In some ways, it doesn’t feel like the end of a year. One part of it may be because I feel like I cut a new chapter in November and so it doesn’t quite feel like something new is beginning.
Some part of it may have to do with the fact that despite all my efforts, I got sick on Dec 31st thanks to a string of big nights out (I’m talkin’ 10am returns home) around Christmas. I wound up mostly staying in (at least by the city’s standards), having the mellowest NYE to date. I woke up with a sore throat and wound up on the couch at my roomie Tara’s parents place, reading and drinking mulled wine under the Christmas lights, then falling asleep for three hours to the sounds of Ben Hur on the TV. I eventually made it home with Tara where we continued with the lounging and lemon tea drinking, and after a short ringing in of the new year with my dad and his friends down the road, I walked home, had a bath and went to bed. Somewhat disappointing given that I’m finally living in a city that really knows how to ring in the new year; but at the end of it all, it’s all the same; another arbitrary night in the calendar, marked there to remind us to reflect on a period of time and create some intentions about our future.
I feel I’ve been doing this kind of thing, this reviewing and reflecting, non-stop since I moved here, though, so no hard feelings in retrospect. It’s been an active process for me for the last, dare I say, year - and this is something I want to emphasize as I create my “resolutions” for 2016. And by resolutions, I mean re-solutions.
solution (n.) from solvere "to loosen, dissolve; untie, release, detach; depart; unlock; scatter; explain; dismiss; accomplish; remove,“ from PIE *se-lu-, "to loosen, divide, cut apart” (see lose).
So much of our life is bound by habit. What we do repeatedly becomes our life. For this reason, I think the best resolutions we can make are those that make us question the things we do that take up a whole year’s time (and eventually a whole lifetime).
What is the substance of our year that forges our long-term outcomes? How do our repeated ways of behaving/reacting reflect our embedded ways of thinking? It should be about challenging ourselves to leave particular patterns behind so we can reinvent and solve our current discomforts, problems or tribulations.
“We’re creatures of habit and we’ll get used to anything. I want to make sure I get used to the right things in this life. And however fast or slow it moves, one day, we’ll all eventually agree that it went by too fast. [Year by year, day by day, but really, all gone in a single blink.]” - me, 2 months ago
 |
| The years melt into each other... |
Diminishing our philosophy of life to a “list of resolutions” is amiss; it’s an active evolution not a line-up of dead-end intents and attempts (and eventual surrenderings).
In light of this, I’m looking at last year’s resolutions to see what I can take from them, regardless of their ‘status’ or ‘expiry.’
(Of course there are 10.)
1. Travel to 5 new places. I realize now you can see new places every day without going anywhere. Really. (For example, even after 20 years of living there, I saw Vancouver for the first time this year in many ways.)
2. Get more of my work published. I realized all I really wanted was to write freely, maybe move someone with my words - even if it was just me.
3. Move to a new city to bring visible changes in my life. I realize now it wasn’t so much about learning to adapt to a new place as it was about seeing what parts of me wouldn’t change.
4. Keep running to stay healthy and fit. I’ve learned that fitness is not an end in and of itself, but rather a byproduct of and catalyst for emotional wellbeing. Excercise helps me stabilize my thoughts and emotions and I’m getting better at making the sound decision to exercise even when I’m not feeling mentally and/or physically up for it, which is a challenge.
5. Keep a gratitude journal - and I did. But I learned that showing gratitude is more essential.
6. Take professional development courses. I learned that you need to apply new knowledge to actually learn it though. One way I did this, when lacking the option at work, was by teaching it to others.
7. Save $7,000. This as an arbitrary number, but as far as arbitrary savings goals are concerned, any number is better than zero. You never know when you may need to cash in; what important time it’ll buy you later; what act of desperation it’ll quell, what peace it will give you (unfortunately, but realistically) that will help you make the better decision.
8. Read a minimum of 12 books. In the last six months, I’ve read only half of two. And these have made more difference than a fat pile of top 100 listers. (Infinite Jest, A Guide to the Good Life)
9. Get closer and more deeply connected to my parents and my closest friends. In the process, I made friends out of my parents, I fell in love with a friend, and I certain friends became like family.
10. Do something out of my comfort zone. I chose bellydancing, which culminated in a performance in front of 350 people. Suffice to say, trying something out of your comfort zone doesn’t bring it into your comfort zone. It just makes you see how well you handle discomfort.
For the first time, my new years resolutions aren’t top-of-mind or clear to me. Perhaps it’s because the plates have shifted so much below my state of being with this move to London that everything feels like a new habit to be formed. I am reconfiguring a lot of myself this year…so in a year’s time, all I ask of myself is that I do this mindfully, gently, thoughtfully. That’s all; and it’s a whole lot.
November 10, 2015
jest (n.,v.) Reflections on page 223 (+ beyond) of DFW's Infinite Jest
Sometimes when there’s so much going on after a big move, all you want to do is be productive - whether by sending resumes or looking at apartments or by taking advantage of having the time to wander around and learn the new place you’re by getting outside and taking it all in.
And sometimes, you just have to curl up with yourself and do exactly what makes time disappear for you, which for me tonight was this (you can also read it on Medium if you prefer):
And sometimes, you just have to curl up with yourself and do exactly what makes time disappear for you, which for me tonight was this (you can also read it on Medium if you prefer):
Some Thoughts on the Dynamics of Chronology & Storytelling in David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest
According to many reading guides for David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, page 223 is one you have to get to; suck it up through the confusion that is the book’s first 222 pages. The guides also tell readers, once there, to bookmark that page as they’ll constantly need to come back to it. At first, that page gave me hope when the book seemed too much to take in and get through. I trembled as I flipped page by page in the 200’s with anticipation. However, once I got there, I was underwhelmed. I realized that maybe they had played a trick on me.
[spoiler alert]
Those who have read Infinite Jest (or as least past page 223!) may agree. The page is to act as an aid to readers by listing the chronology of otherwise unnumbered years to help them piece together the narrative’s events in a more linear fashion. If we know when the events unfold, we can make better connections and better understand correlations and cause and effect that gives reason to the story. Presumably.
But maybe the years don’t matter; maybe a chronology of that kind, formalized and “historized” actually doesn’t matter as much as we think or as much as it should. Which is the point and perhaps why I was so underwhelmed by page 223 and it’s “intel.” Sure there are politics and “milestones” that touch characters’ lives — the same as those that touch our own here — yet, at the end of the day, the longest chapters, the most colourful — at least to me — were those internal dialogues describing more of our banal moments in life (Erdedy, for one). In some ways it didn’t matter when these moments were occurring; committing them to memory is what gave them their weight, as they informed my understanding of each character and DWF’s overall messages about progress, consequence, anticipation, ambition , passing time, and ultimately, the human drive to find “happiness” — or rather, meaning and belief.
Whatever we see fitting to be spotlighted in the central story we tell ourselves is what makes up our lives because it drives how we live. We can look back to the time we waited for something for what seemed like eternity but forget that it also happened many times before and nothing great came of it (Erdedy); we may remember the wrong phone conversations and recall inconsequential ones (Hal and Orin); we may never forget how sick we got all those times, cold-sweat and shuddering on the bathroom floor — except the time that it nearly kills us (Joelle). Those everyday struggles and banalities, the points in our lives that we orient our understanding of ourselves around are what make up our lives, perhaps even who we think we are. Even if there are larger uncontrollable events and circumstances primarily driving our lives forward, what matters is what I’ll call our holydays.
holy (adj.) Old English halig “holy, sacred; godly,” from Proto-Germanic from *kailo- “whole, uninjured.” Primary (pre-Christian) meaning is not possible to determine, but probably it was “that must be preserved whole or intact, that cannot be transgressed or violated,” and connected with Old English hal (see health) “wholeness, a being whole, sound or well,” and Old High German heil “good luck.”
However big or small — whatever are the before Then’s and the after That’s (the “before J. Incandenza’s suicide” or “that night before Interdependence Day”) — these are symbolic days in our minds. Though most obviously our experience of them is linear, what meaning we draw from them can be somewhat arbitrary. Events tend to “reveal” themselves later to us and change in their relative importance as time moves on, and when they occurred becomes less important than the fact that they did. In an effort to weave together a story of our lives that has some semblance of meaning and holiness, we alter and skew, whether consciously or not, our belief or understanding of what really happened. It helps provide us with more more weight as we float so that we may better anchor ourselves — so that we may find some kind of buoyancy in the havoc that is otherwise likely more of an existentialist void, an infinite/simal phenomenon or some metaphysical accident than objectively “a chronicle” or “history” at all. Our “life story” is no happy accident though. It’s a work of art!
luck (n.) late 15c. from early Middle Dutch luc, shortening of gheluc “happiness, good fortune,” of unknown origin [go figure!]
Without those relatively inane, though wholly personal holydays, we cannot find a way to establish our identity, to bookmark our tiny selves into the massive life continuum with whose limits and edges we know little of.Without them we are nothing, unidentified and unidentifiable, with no story, arc, nor denouements, No Amens or Hell Nos; no Holy Cows to accompany the moments that fill the empty hole that otherwise could be any life in this dumbfounding world.
continuum (n.) 1640s, from Latin continuum “a continuous thing,” meaning a continuous sequence in which adjacent elements are not perceptibly different from each other, but the extremes are quite distinct.We need reference points in our experience of the world and what better place to start than with the personal. Many moments the story of a single character or two sweeps the reader into forgetting about some of the dystopian details in the book. However, every time, just as I started getting used to a character, the fractal chronology of the novel took me to a new place, a new time, a new story. DFW forays into the personal amidst a highly complex setting to “authorially” remind that it’s the personal stories and our own ability to relate that help us understand the world — any world imagined by the author, be it Wallace or you.
Ultimately though, absolute clarity can never be achieved — and perhaps only slowly refined if we actually live out the story ourselves and build out the pieces that are missing on our own.
The stories we tell ourself makes each of our lives feel more sacred and unique. This “life storytelling” that moves us through this world marks some of our experiences holy, often obscured, and others and more often, forever lost in the corners of our life. And just like that, as we get caught up in our own holy days, we eject ourselves from the larger picture — akin to when when we pick up a book and get lost in its story, we forget our own.
Thus, it would be reasonable to hypothesize that:
1) Any moment spent reading is not really valuable nor holy until we make it applicable in real life. If we can take what we read, however fictitious, and apply it to our own life as metaphor, fodder for cliches or descriptive inspirations, we may better devise ways to sanctify the moments that happen to us. This can help us find more meaning as we run the chapters of our lives from Capital to period. from life to death, and all the calendar years in between.
2) We should be able to extrapolate our “life story” and its sanctity and meaning more universally and/or objectively. Otherwise we’ll be narcissists, self-possessed theatrical drama queens, perhaps even laughing stocks. Which brings me to:
jest (n.) from Latin gesta ‘actions, exploits’, from gerere ‘do’. The original sense was ‘heroic deed’, hence ‘a narrative of such deeds’; later the term denoted an idle tale, hence a joke.
 |
| sorry for the #longread |
p.s. I’m only halfway through the book.
p.p.s. I also realized that (and only Infinite Jest readers will get this), November 8th was #InterdependenceDay - and also the day I landed in London. Symbolic much?
August 8, 2015
deprivation (n.) My first floating experience
After rolling out my thoughts in my last post about my meditative practice of "wallowing by walking" (i.e. indulging in thoughts about my personal drama with scenic backdrop so as to stay a sane citizen), I realize much of this thinking came not only from one of my walks, but from the effects of my first "float" in a sensory deprivation chamber. Sounds scary. And it was - at least, until I floated.
My First Floating Experience
I climbed into the tank and shut the door with quite a bit of enthusiasm and excitement given a chance to lie in quiet for 90 minutes. I didn't realize though how claustrophobic I would feel - and not necessarily as a result of being shut inside a tank of saline water in complete darkness.
My First Floating Experience
I climbed into the tank and shut the door with quite a bit of enthusiasm and excitement given a chance to lie in quiet for 90 minutes. I didn't realize though how claustrophobic I would feel - and not necessarily as a result of being shut inside a tank of saline water in complete darkness.
deprive (v.) mid-14c., from Old French depriver, from Medieval Latin deprivare, from Latin de- "entirely" (see de-) + privare "release from".
Losing sight and sound meant losing sense of space and time, two things that give us evidence of our existence. "I am here and I am now." Except without outside markers and stimuli to orient me, I became the compass; the "here" and the "now" became much more... conceptually tangible in a sense. In floating physically, my body melted into its surroundings and I became numb to it (a bit of an oxymoron maybe). I instead became, simply, a floating series of thoughts. Completely released of my body and the physical world and its stories, I was left with myself, with memory as my only guide back to my identity.
private (adj.) late 14c., "not shared, individual; not open to the public;" from Latin privatus "set apart, belonging to oneself (not to the state), peculiar, personal;" past participle of privare "to separate, deprive," from privus "one's own, individual," fro *prai-, *prei-, from root *per- "forward, through."
trance (n.) late 14c., "state of extreme dread or suspense," also "a half-conscious or insensible condition, state of insensibility to mundane things," from Old French transe "fear of coming evil," originally "coma, passage from life to death" (12c.), from transir "be numb with fear," originally "die, pass on," from Latin transire "cross over" (see transient).Perhaps it was the most privacy I've ever felt - because for a time, I couldn't even access myself. Time just moved without me for some time (ha!), until my internal clock woke me in the darkness, just moments before the sounding of the music that marked the end of my 90-minute session.
transient (adj.)c. 1600, "transitory, not durable," from Latin transientem "passing over or away," from trans- "across" + ire "to go" (see ion (n.) - 1834, coined by chemist Michael Faraday, from Greek neuter present participle of ienai "go, walk." So called because ions move toward the electrode of opposite charge.)
magic (n.) late 14c., "art of influencing events and producing marvels using hidden natural forces;" from Old Persian magush, "to be able, to have power" (see machine (n.)- Middle French c. 1540s, "structure of any kind")
float (v.) from *flot-, extended form of root *pleu- "to flow" from pluvial, from Greek plein "to navigate."
July 23, 2014
eye contact (n.)
A bit of an odd phenomenon, this thing called eye contact. There's no actual contact (read: from Latin contactus "a touching, "to touch" con+tangere) involved - just a reciprocated seeing.
When there is no other form of physical contact with a person happening (be it for lack of language, words, or proximity,) no talking or touching or interacting, when the only form of contact is through the eyes, it produces a very unique effect. That deep-set feeling from staring back into another's pupils is really profound, dare I say, existential: They're seeing you just as you are seeing them. Kind of simple, but very... well, not simple at all.
Though I've always been aware of this special connection that happens when you lock eyes with another being, I really saw it in a whole other light when I was travelling in India.
Something about Indian people, which I hadn't experienced during any other travels before, was this incredible confidence that locals have: They look strangers straight in the eyes. I'm talking about an unrelenting, deep, serious staring. For extended periods of time. With no facial expression but one that says, "I see you."
It's the kind of eye contact that initially makes you uncomfortable. "They don't know me. Why are they looking at me?" It almost feels rude, like they're prying open your soul, seeing something that you don't show to the world, perhaps something you don't even know exists inside of you. So, in defense, you look away...and then, when you sneak a curious look back, you find that they're still looking at you. And they don't flinch; serious face still there, forging a tunnel into the depths of your being. You blink and cower.
A few times, I tried attaching to this drawn-out moment of eye contact some kind of additional nuanced response with my face - a nod, a smile, some type of more socially-normative form of expression to acknowledge this other person staring back at me. But rather than a polite Canadian reciprocation of a nod or a smile, most times, I received nothing in return but that same "I see you" stare - as though just offering my eyes should have been enough. And then I realized, it was.
After a while, I got used to it; I began to almost prefer it. The time it took to have that awkward feeling creep up on me became longer. A few days into my trip, I was testing myself, daring myself to confidently return the gaze, to respectfully reciprocate whatever length of eye contact was set by the other person. I undoubtedly always faltered first, moving my gaze away. But I tried.
After about a week or so into my trip, of travelling about, camera in hand, observing Indian everyday living, it stopped being a game I waited to be invited into. I started actually searching for faces to find that eye contact myself - so that I could be acknowledged - acknowledged as the stranger that I was.
Otherwise, my presence felt a ruse.
I didn't deserve to witness their lives because I knew as well as they did, that to me, these everyday activities were not so "everyday." I was enthralled by the activity around me: the washing of clothes, the building of chairs, the sweeping of storefronts, of shaving beards and frying up dough. I started to feel guilty watching these (their) moments unfold in front of me, without some form of acknowledgement from them of my being there, an unspoken consent if you will, that here I was, observing and undoubtedly judging with a stranger's eyes. It felt odd watching, let alone pointing my camera lens. But I only started to feel this way after the first few times I was laid bare, exposed....by eye contact. I had been caught and there was no going back - unless to look back.
See, the thing with eye contact is that it pinpoints you as one who is witnessed, not solely as one who is witnessing. When you're travelling, it's easy to think it's all there for your taking, that it's all there to entertain you, with scenes unravelling in front of your eyes for your particular enjoyment because you came all this way to see this. But really, you're the outsider, the one entering a world that is always happening whether you're there to witness it or not. When someone catches you doing that, stares you down (whether intentionally or not), you realize this truth, and you never want to go back to being that ignorant one-way observer.
You need to expose yourself if you are really to see anything. Establish connection with the place by establishing eye contact with its people. You'll find that you'll not only see something different, you'll also see those things differently. They'll be more real to you, because you will have been more real to them.
When there is no other form of physical contact with a person happening (be it for lack of language, words, or proximity,) no talking or touching or interacting, when the only form of contact is through the eyes, it produces a very unique effect. That deep-set feeling from staring back into another's pupils is really profound, dare I say, existential: They're seeing you just as you are seeing them. Kind of simple, but very... well, not simple at all.
Though I've always been aware of this special connection that happens when you lock eyes with another being, I really saw it in a whole other light when I was travelling in India.
Something about Indian people, which I hadn't experienced during any other travels before, was this incredible confidence that locals have: They look strangers straight in the eyes. I'm talking about an unrelenting, deep, serious staring. For extended periods of time. With no facial expression but one that says, "I see you."
It's the kind of eye contact that initially makes you uncomfortable. "They don't know me. Why are they looking at me?" It almost feels rude, like they're prying open your soul, seeing something that you don't show to the world, perhaps something you don't even know exists inside of you. So, in defense, you look away...and then, when you sneak a curious look back, you find that they're still looking at you. And they don't flinch; serious face still there, forging a tunnel into the depths of your being. You blink and cower.
A few times, I tried attaching to this drawn-out moment of eye contact some kind of additional nuanced response with my face - a nod, a smile, some type of more socially-normative form of expression to acknowledge this other person staring back at me. But rather than a polite Canadian reciprocation of a nod or a smile, most times, I received nothing in return but that same "I see you" stare - as though just offering my eyes should have been enough. And then I realized, it was.
After a while, I got used to it; I began to almost prefer it. The time it took to have that awkward feeling creep up on me became longer. A few days into my trip, I was testing myself, daring myself to confidently return the gaze, to respectfully reciprocate whatever length of eye contact was set by the other person. I undoubtedly always faltered first, moving my gaze away. But I tried.
After about a week or so into my trip, of travelling about, camera in hand, observing Indian everyday living, it stopped being a game I waited to be invited into. I started actually searching for faces to find that eye contact myself - so that I could be acknowledged - acknowledged as the stranger that I was.
Otherwise, my presence felt a ruse.
I didn't deserve to witness their lives because I knew as well as they did, that to me, these everyday activities were not so "everyday." I was enthralled by the activity around me: the washing of clothes, the building of chairs, the sweeping of storefronts, of shaving beards and frying up dough. I started to feel guilty watching these (their) moments unfold in front of me, without some form of acknowledgement from them of my being there, an unspoken consent if you will, that here I was, observing and undoubtedly judging with a stranger's eyes. It felt odd watching, let alone pointing my camera lens. But I only started to feel this way after the first few times I was laid bare, exposed....by eye contact. I had been caught and there was no going back - unless to look back.
See, the thing with eye contact is that it pinpoints you as one who is witnessed, not solely as one who is witnessing. When you're travelling, it's easy to think it's all there for your taking, that it's all there to entertain you, with scenes unravelling in front of your eyes for your particular enjoyment because you came all this way to see this. But really, you're the outsider, the one entering a world that is always happening whether you're there to witness it or not. When someone catches you doing that, stares you down (whether intentionally or not), you realize this truth, and you never want to go back to being that ignorant one-way observer.
You need to expose yourself if you are really to see anything. Establish connection with the place by establishing eye contact with its people. You'll find that you'll not only see something different, you'll also see those things differently. They'll be more real to you, because you will have been more real to them.
September 20, 2012
voice (v., n.)
I attended Voices in the Park last weekend and I think it's about time I reflected and committed something into words.
The concert was organized by Sarah McLaghlan to fundraise for her School of Music that she founded in 1990 to bring musical education to underprivileged kids. The line-up was spectacular and even Bill Clinton himself made an appearance commenting on how he owes his presidency to the music instruction he received from an early age. He said music helped build his character so he could better deal with politics, which he referred to as a "contact sport" (no pun intended).
The concert series' cleverly ambiguous name got me thinking about what it means to not only have a voice but to also make your voice heard. I was there to hear the voices of Jann Arden, Stevie Nix, Bryan Adams, and of course, Sarah McLaughlan. But by being there, I was also voicing my support for a good cause.
The reason I pinpoint this particular set-up is because of what I witnessed sitting in Section 2, row 1 that night. It was jarring, cacophonous, inharmonious - and just plain awful.
There was a lady sitting next to us who from the very beginning of the show seemed to have forgotten what brought many of us there in the first place: The desire to hear - and support - artists singing for a good cause. She seemed committed to making sure that those around her were not having a good time - or at least a worse time than she was having. Every few minutes, she'd get up from her seat to shove (yes, shove) someone out of her line of vision and yell out "MOVE!".
The area in front of us was a walkway, yet she took every opportunity to hurry people along by yelling at them and pushing them. She even aggressively pushed a man away who slowed down, leaning on his walking stick, to take a photo of the show. From the place where I was standing, I could see fine - and so could she. But for some reason, her voice seemed to be the most important thing in attendance that evening.
I mentioned that she was being quite rude (though hostile would have been a more accurate description of her behaviour), while others seated farther away gave flashed looks of complete disbelief or repeated and utter disapproval. But none of this seemed to faze her. Our remonstrations seemed only to encourage her.
At one point, even security had to intervene when the lady picked on some semi-inebriated teenage girl who was apparently a bit too Bryan-crazy and anxious to get a closer look at him by standing "too close" to us. I didn't mind at all, and even let the girl share my spot so she could enjoy the show for a bit; but the lady wouldn't have any of it.
But karma did as karma would.
The security people eventually came back. Many of us thought they'd escort this lady out of the show; but instead, whether borne out of intentional wit or not, the security personnel just planted their tall authoritative selves right in front of her for the remainder of the concert. She shut up soon after that (though, believe it or not, she still tried to push one of the security guys away).
There's nothing like having the universe echo your sentiments.
But beyond that, the concert was oh so very moving. Listening to Jann Arden sing "I Would Die For You" with Sarah McLaughlan, cut right into the very core of me. The show had great and well-planned momentum, ramping up with Stevie Nix and Bryan Adams, and as per my taste, closing with some slower music to lull me into the night.
I truly found my peace amongst all the noise that night.
 |
| I kept hoping Bill would play the sax. |
The concert series' cleverly ambiguous name got me thinking about what it means to not only have a voice but to also make your voice heard. I was there to hear the voices of Jann Arden, Stevie Nix, Bryan Adams, and of course, Sarah McLaughlan. But by being there, I was also voicing my support for a good cause.
 |
| Enjoying sunny Stanley Park with Ben! |
Stanley Park was beautiful. We arrived around 4:30pm, grabbed a plate of $10 dim sum from the food truck, and headed to our seats, as close as we could get to the the stage without dropping $285 for the nice chairs. Our view was spectacular (I'm pretty sure Bryan Adams and I made eye contact).
The reason I pinpoint this particular set-up is because of what I witnessed sitting in Section 2, row 1 that night. It was jarring, cacophonous, inharmonious - and just plain awful.
 | |||
| I didn't let myself get too distracted by the obnoxious lady sitting next to me at the concert. Not only did I enjoy the show and getsucked into the music, but I even found a moment to make it ontothe live Twitter feed! (@vishmili) |
The area in front of us was a walkway, yet she took every opportunity to hurry people along by yelling at them and pushing them. She even aggressively pushed a man away who slowed down, leaning on his walking stick, to take a photo of the show. From the place where I was standing, I could see fine - and so could she. But for some reason, her voice seemed to be the most important thing in attendance that evening.
I mentioned that she was being quite rude (though hostile would have been a more accurate description of her behaviour), while others seated farther away gave flashed looks of complete disbelief or repeated and utter disapproval. But none of this seemed to faze her. Our remonstrations seemed only to encourage her.
At one point, even security had to intervene when the lady picked on some semi-inebriated teenage girl who was apparently a bit too Bryan-crazy and anxious to get a closer look at him by standing "too close" to us. I didn't mind at all, and even let the girl share my spot so she could enjoy the show for a bit; but the lady wouldn't have any of it.
But karma did as karma would.
 |
| We are all going to find things that stand in our way. I think that how we deal with those things will determine if they're actually in our way or if we're in our own way. |
There's nothing like having the universe echo your sentiments.
But beyond that, the concert was oh so very moving. Listening to Jann Arden sing "I Would Die For You" with Sarah McLaughlan, cut right into the very core of me. The show had great and well-planned momentum, ramping up with Stevie Nix and Bryan Adams, and as per my taste, closing with some slower music to lull me into the night.
I truly found my peace amongst all the noise that night.
"Each one has to find his peace from within. And peace to be real must be unaffected by outside circumstances." - Mahatma Gandhi
September 17, 2012
exhaust (v.) The Alchemist review
What I thought would be a book akin to Herman Hesse's Journey to the East, turned out to be more like William Styron's Darkness Visible. Styron's as well as Coelho's books, while significant in some ways and worth the time to read, somehow lacked the same kind of pivotal something that would help convey a deeper, more "stunning" message. I wasn't moved at the core - just at a cerebral level.
I was interested, but the work wasn't interesting.
The Alchemist was not poetry, nor was it song. It read clearly, candidly, and...banally - without leaving much of any kind of taste in my mouth, (what I think is much too close to a complete literary failure). The book set itself up as something portraying mystery, inviting curiosity and interpretation; instead, it provided a simplicity in its answers that made the work too plain and 'logical'. It may be a matter of my personal taste, but this exhausted me. Somehow working harder, energizes me as a reader.
I would have rather been pulled into a less comprehensible, more open-ended web of storytelling; instead, the author did not trust the reader to make any misguided judgments, draw any deeper conclusions, or be left to deliberate anything. Everything was there, as it was, at the end, and it did not encourage me to think further. Substance was missing.
What I hoped would be mystical code turned out to be a simple formula - and I don't think it's because I am a lazy reader (here's proof).
So here it is, a concise version of the above - from Goodreads:
The Alchemist by Paulo CoelhoMy rating: 2 of 5 stars
The overall story was a good one, though I wasn't particularly a fan of the writing style. The simplicity of sentences would have worked if the concepts embedded in them had not been so "densely" presented throughout. It was hard to keep track of powerful passages, as seemingly inane ones seemed somehow elevated (stylistically) to the level of much more profound ones. Not sure if that makes sense...
The seemingly central notion of alchemy still escaped me a bit as well, as the story lacked the magical flavours such a practice invites. I felt a bit disappointed that the work had not been more exhaustive. Perhaps this is because I have not given the idea of a man's pursuit for gold careful enough deliberation to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion for myself. The overall theme somehow was reduced to 'one man's treasure is another man's gold' which did not bode well with me....
I invite you to share your thoughts below. I hope I am wrong....
August 28, 2012
leaf (v., n.)
Lots of reflecting happening here on my part, as I leaf through the different projects I've been a part of over the last year and a half!
In light of this, I dedicate this entry to turning over new "leafs," "leafing" through memories, old habits, and the ways we're used to doing things so that we can assess what we can take from the past to use in the future in times of changes and transition - all, fittingly, in time for fall.
My position at the motion graphics studio I've been working at PT is slowly drawing to a close as I prepare to start a new job in early September. I've been working on a best practices document to leave behind when I leave in a week or so, which has made me reflect on a lot of the work I've done over the last 9 months - namely, designing marketing and content plans and auditing and executing workflows to create more efficient ways to brand the company using content.
Because I'll be working a 9-to-5, I also recently had to reject an offer to TA for a design course at SFU, a position I held for 2 semesters last year. This has brought back a lot of fond memories of leading undergrad students through InDesign tutorials and design iterations - as well as generally reminded me of my own student life.
This last week, I also started setting up a template for the second book of the My Mother's Story series that I've designed and managed the production of. This has made me take a look at my original process to decide how I want to implement it this second time around.
Every now and again, it's really healthy to shed or "leaf behind" what's no longer working for us as well; though while doing so, it's also all the more important to evaluate what is worth keeping, so that we can hold on it to all the more strongly in times of transition.
In terms of the book I'm designing, I feel more ready to take on the next installment; in terms of saying goodbye to being a Masters student and the possibilities of TAing, I welcome it; and in terms of my new job, I feel prepared for it. In terms of leaving my current one...I'm slowly preparing myself for that, too.
I've had a great time at my current job. I have learned a lot of new things as I reacted to new trends in social media and online communications on behalf of the company. I have enjoyed offering my expertise to build up the brand, and look forward to doing more of it in the future, even on a very part-time basis. And I've met some wonderful people who I've shared hilarious moments with, struggles, successes, and all that human-y goodness that we all seek out in the world in one way or another. Thanks, y'all!
And I'll leaf it at that, before I get too sappy (oooooh!)
In light of this, I dedicate this entry to turning over new "leafs," "leafing" through memories, old habits, and the ways we're used to doing things so that we can assess what we can take from the past to use in the future in times of changes and transition - all, fittingly, in time for fall.
 |
| I thought it fitting to use a four-leaf clover when discussing transitions and changes. There's luck to be had in every new challenge, in every new start. You just have to look for it... leaf through it. |
My position at the motion graphics studio I've been working at PT is slowly drawing to a close as I prepare to start a new job in early September. I've been working on a best practices document to leave behind when I leave in a week or so, which has made me reflect on a lot of the work I've done over the last 9 months - namely, designing marketing and content plans and auditing and executing workflows to create more efficient ways to brand the company using content.
Because I'll be working a 9-to-5, I also recently had to reject an offer to TA for a design course at SFU, a position I held for 2 semesters last year. This has brought back a lot of fond memories of leading undergrad students through InDesign tutorials and design iterations - as well as generally reminded me of my own student life.
This last week, I also started setting up a template for the second book of the My Mother's Story series that I've designed and managed the production of. This has made me take a look at my original process to decide how I want to implement it this second time around.
Every now and again, it's really healthy to shed or "leaf behind" what's no longer working for us as well; though while doing so, it's also all the more important to evaluate what is worth keeping, so that we can hold on it to all the more strongly in times of transition.
In terms of the book I'm designing, I feel more ready to take on the next installment; in terms of saying goodbye to being a Masters student and the possibilities of TAing, I welcome it; and in terms of my new job, I feel prepared for it. In terms of leaving my current one...I'm slowly preparing myself for that, too.
I've had a great time at my current job. I have learned a lot of new things as I reacted to new trends in social media and online communications on behalf of the company. I have enjoyed offering my expertise to build up the brand, and look forward to doing more of it in the future, even on a very part-time basis. And I've met some wonderful people who I've shared hilarious moments with, struggles, successes, and all that human-y goodness that we all seek out in the world in one way or another. Thanks, y'all!
And I'll leaf it at that, before I get too sappy (oooooh!)
April 2, 2012
high road (n.)
I got back from a mini trip to Seattle last night and it got me thinking about what it means to take the 'high road' (after having spent 3 or 4 hours on the highway).
I drove Ben down and his coworker, Chris, as they were flying out to Arizona from Sea-Tac for work. We headed down on Friday afternoon and after quickly checking in to our hotel (La la la la la la Quinta..), we headed out for drinks at what is now my favourite pub in Seattle - followed by a lovely dinner at the Palace Kitchen. After a late night of wining and dining, an early morning drive to the airport, and a quick stop (+shop) at Capitol Hill, I headed out on the highway by my lonesome listening to Stadium Arcadium.
I never so passionately hated stupid and/or rude drivers until my car was moving at high speeds on a road shared with them. It's like idiocy is somehow amplified by high velocity - or more likely, my sense of danger becomes more acute when I see an idiot traveling at 70 miles per hour.
Usually, it's Ben who takes the wheel on our longer trips, and I haven't had a car in a few of years now, so driving on the freeway system was a bit new for me. I can count the number of times I've been out on the highway for a long trek before yesterday: 2. (Seattle 2003; Alberta 2004... I really can't think of another). It was a welcome change and I remembered how much I enjoy driving - once I get used to gliding at 110km/hr and merging my way across lanes to get to the suddenly announced ("1/4 mile"-away) exit. And only once I get away from some of the loonies out on the road.
So, let me get to the crux of why I'm posting this: I want to dedicate this entry to all the great, patient, smart, defensive, unwavering, assertive drivers out there - and point my finger at those other drivers, who seem to think they exist in a vacuum (or a tunnel).
By no means is my short stint with the I-5 a warrant for me to be a smart ass - but here are some points from my brief experience. I just want to remind us of those tips we all once learned as newbie drivers, but that many of us seem to have forgotten...the importance of.
If you want to take the high road when driving on the highway DO:
1. Scan your mirrors so that you're aware of and can judge the cars around you: anticipate (unwelcome) moves; watch for reckless driving (and get out of the way); and avoid the surprise of having a car 'sneak up on you' when it emerges from your blind spot.
2. Having said that, stay out of other people's blind spots. If you're going to pass, pass. If you're going to slow down, stay behind, or get in the right(er) lane. Be visible and assertive.
3. Drive at a comfortable, safe, legal, speed. The trifecta of good speed. Don't let cars behind you bully you into speeding up - just get out of the way. But also, don't let slower drivers eat at your patience or tempt you to tailgate.
4. Keep a safe - even extra long - distance between you and the car ahead. That way, if they're leaning on their brake, you're not slamming yours - and risking a domino affect with the tailgating A-hole behind you.
5. Yield and be nice to your neighbour - even (especially) if it's the A-hole; being ahead on the road doesn't get you ahead in life. Take the high road.
If you want to take the high road when driving on the highway DON'T:
1. Think that having a more expensive car makes speeding safer.
2. Pass when the turn is against you.
3. Gorge on a sub while you're driving. Your eyes should be on the road.
4. Race an imaginary race.
5. Tailgate and cut the A-hole off in vengeance. Take. the. high. road.
Happy travels!
 |
| White Horse Trading Company, Seattle, WA |
I never so passionately hated stupid and/or rude drivers until my car was moving at high speeds on a road shared with them. It's like idiocy is somehow amplified by high velocity - or more likely, my sense of danger becomes more acute when I see an idiot traveling at 70 miles per hour.
Usually, it's Ben who takes the wheel on our longer trips, and I haven't had a car in a few of years now, so driving on the freeway system was a bit new for me. I can count the number of times I've been out on the highway for a long trek before yesterday: 2. (Seattle 2003; Alberta 2004... I really can't think of another). It was a welcome change and I remembered how much I enjoy driving - once I get used to gliding at 110km/hr and merging my way across lanes to get to the suddenly announced ("1/4 mile"-away) exit. And only once I get away from some of the loonies out on the road.
 |
| My drive home. (Sunny for the most part..though I hit a rough hail-y, torrential downpour patch. Kinda scary.) @ Peace Arch. |
By no means is my short stint with the I-5 a warrant for me to be a smart ass - but here are some points from my brief experience. I just want to remind us of those tips we all once learned as newbie drivers, but that many of us seem to have forgotten...the importance of.
If you want to take the high road when driving on the highway DO:
1. Scan your mirrors so that you're aware of and can judge the cars around you: anticipate (unwelcome) moves; watch for reckless driving (and get out of the way); and avoid the surprise of having a car 'sneak up on you' when it emerges from your blind spot.
2. Having said that, stay out of other people's blind spots. If you're going to pass, pass. If you're going to slow down, stay behind, or get in the right(er) lane. Be visible and assertive.
3. Drive at a comfortable, safe, legal, speed. The trifecta of good speed. Don't let cars behind you bully you into speeding up - just get out of the way. But also, don't let slower drivers eat at your patience or tempt you to tailgate.
4. Keep a safe - even extra long - distance between you and the car ahead. That way, if they're leaning on their brake, you're not slamming yours - and risking a domino affect with the tailgating A-hole behind you.
5. Yield and be nice to your neighbour - even (especially) if it's the A-hole; being ahead on the road doesn't get you ahead in life. Take the high road.
If you want to take the high road when driving on the highway DON'T:
1. Think that having a more expensive car makes speeding safer.
2. Pass when the turn is against you.
3. Gorge on a sub while you're driving. Your eyes should be on the road.
4. Race an imaginary race.
5. Tailgate and cut the A-hole off in vengeance. Take. the. high. road.
Happy travels!
January 3, 2012
resolution (n.)
Yes, I'm going to post a blog post that's really lacking in spontaneity - it's that time of the year, and of course we're gonna talk about those lovely goals many of us set out at the start of every January, to help us 'turn over a new leaf', 'start the year off right', and all that lovely motivating gush.
But remember, we're celebrating the start of a new year, not the end of the last....
It's funny though, the notion of "resolutions" really just hit me while I was Photoshoping an image for a sponsorship package I've been designing for SFU LipDub (a certain pic was lacking resolution..and I wished it was in vector format like the logo I designed).
![]()
I thought it funny that the making of resolutions - of turning decisions or desires into actions - has a particular connection with clarity, sharpness, flexibility, and vision. It got me thinking about how the new year's resolutions we make and their potential to empower and actually improve our lives have a lot to do with how clearly and realistically we look at both the past and the future.
We have to look closer as well as step away from the past to get a sense of what we want to envision for ourselves for, let's say, the next year.
We have to set the right resolution to get a good overall end result, I guess. It's like working in vectors, which enables an image to flex in response to changes, rather than working in pixels, which can make the whole thing fall apart under pressure.
So, in the spirit of this dorky denotative connection I've made, I've decided to create a list of resolutions that reflects a vision for the new year that's possible, challenging, and motivating. My list this year inspires me to actually stick to it the entire year rather than give up the moment my bouts of (January) inspirations leave me. One part of it is that my list is specific. I think this helps in actually making things happen - so rather than saying stuff like "get fit" or "save money", it's better to say "do yoga 3 times a week", or "save $1000 so I can go to ___".... See what I mean?
I've created a list of goals, which work together as a whole and set a pace that I can keep up with the entire year. Instead of pushing for an overly ambitious, post-party/champagne-induced list of 10-15 resolutions, (which, if individually abandoned, really help dismantle the whole thing), I've resolved to try for only three goals this year. And it's been tough to choose - but I think the added effort in choosing wisely (like using Illustrator this year for the first time!) will pay off in the long run - and help me not lose the resolution even if my goal appears to be a bit of a stretch.. (gosh, I'm a pun-freak.)
My list is comprised of:
And there's no need to post my list here. To keep it somewhat unique, my cookie-cutter new year's resolutions entry will not have any resolutions in it :)
And of course, just because I've made a short list doesn't mean I can't do other things to better myself and those around me in the new year. I make a habit of making goals throughout the year (I admit, I'm a bit of an OCD list-lover) - The start of a new year is as good a time as any.
And with that, I bid everyone a very happy and healthy New Year. Good luck on your resolutions, your visions, and if things seem a little fuzzy, step a little farther away from the picture and I'm sure it'll appear more clear.
But remember, we're celebrating the start of a new year, not the end of the last....
We have to look closer as well as step away from the past to get a sense of what we want to envision for ourselves for, let's say, the next year.
We have to set the right resolution to get a good overall end result, I guess. It's like working in vectors, which enables an image to flex in response to changes, rather than working in pixels, which can make the whole thing fall apart under pressure.
So, in the spirit of this dorky denotative connection I've made, I've decided to create a list of resolutions that reflects a vision for the new year that's possible, challenging, and motivating. My list this year inspires me to actually stick to it the entire year rather than give up the moment my bouts of (January) inspirations leave me. One part of it is that my list is specific. I think this helps in actually making things happen - so rather than saying stuff like "get fit" or "save money", it's better to say "do yoga 3 times a week", or "save $1000 so I can go to ___".... See what I mean?
I've created a list of goals, which work together as a whole and set a pace that I can keep up with the entire year. Instead of pushing for an overly ambitious, post-party/champagne-induced list of 10-15 resolutions, (which, if individually abandoned, really help dismantle the whole thing), I've resolved to try for only three goals this year. And it's been tough to choose - but I think the added effort in choosing wisely (like using Illustrator this year for the first time!) will pay off in the long run - and help me not lose the resolution even if my goal appears to be a bit of a stretch.. (gosh, I'm a pun-freak.)
My list is comprised of:
- one goal I'd like to continue doing (as a reminder that I've done - and can continue to do - something I'm proud of);
- one thing I'd like to improve (as it lets me start with something tangible, to motivate me); and
- one new thing I'd like to begin or take on (as a challenge, however great, which the other two help fuel).
And there's no need to post my list here. To keep it somewhat unique, my cookie-cutter new year's resolutions entry will not have any resolutions in it :)And of course, just because I've made a short list doesn't mean I can't do other things to better myself and those around me in the new year. I make a habit of making goals throughout the year (I admit, I'm a bit of an OCD list-lover) - The start of a new year is as good a time as any.
And with that, I bid everyone a very happy and healthy New Year. Good luck on your resolutions, your visions, and if things seem a little fuzzy, step a little farther away from the picture and I'm sure it'll appear more clear.
September 11, 2011
vacation (n.)
As many of you know, I recently returned from a summer of living in Montreal (MML) while doing an internship at Reader's Digest. It almost felt like it was only a few days ago that I loaded my stuff into a taxi van, slammed the door (or rather, pushed it hard against the oppressive winds of Irene) and flew home to Vancouver.
I say "almost" because five days after landing in Vancouver, sleeping in my old bed and snapping my lips hungrily at fresh BC water (oh, how I missed you!), I was on another plane headed south via Bellingham allll the way to the place where people leave a lot of things behind - namely money, integrity, normal GI levels, and memories.
Vegas.
$ A town whose article we frequently drop because it truly is one of a kind.
$ An artificial city that looks like the Lord Almighty played a simultaneous game of Lego and Lite-Brite.
$ A place where one can't find a grocer, a clock, nor a dirty bathroom (thank god!) but always has plenty of O2, cheap alcohol, and fake sky.
$ A city that offers everything - but if you're smart, not all at once.
$ A place where it takes a long time to get anywhere or do anything (especially make decisions that don't involve pressing a single button that says "Bet" or "Lobby").
$ A place that I thought I'd never want to visit, let alone actually return to.
Sitting on the plane, I was one part excited for the extravagance, and two parts ready to gag at it. Once I got there though I was 100% impressed.
Before I knew it, I refueled poolside by working on my tan lines. It also made me realize that I forgot what desert heat felt like (my last trip to Israel was 3 summers ago). I'd actually close my eyes and have a very hard time figuring out from which direction the sun was hitting me.
I soon found the energy to stay up for the next 23hrs, shop at Miracle Mile, walk from PH to Encore, dance my butt off in a pool at XS, eat gelato at 4am, and feel fully rested after 5 hours of sleep (give or take a coffee or three). The rest of my trip pretty much followed the same pattern (but every day was different). Plus wacky meals and cocktails all around.
But, the true reason that my word today is "vacation" is that in all my amazement at the "Desert Rose", I actually don't think I had a vacation - or at least the kind I'm used to.
I stopped and smelled the roses, blew a bit of cash in return for exuberant sights and sounds, food, shopping, and clubbing. But I did not vacate. Sure, I vacated Vancouver to enter into an illusory life comprised of lights, slot machines, and firm asses; however, my body and mind worked in overdrive, and however much or little I drank, I still feel hungover from head to toe. I sustained a right pinky injury, a redder credit card bill than I planned for, and I've slept 30 hours over the last three nights. I wish I could blame it on jet lag, but I can't.
Some of you are probably reminded of similar vacations to places other than Las Vegas that you've been to, after which you came home in shambles, broken, and tired with swollen feet and a sunburn.
But this one's different, folks. It's nothing I've ever experienced before (and trust me, I've lived out of a backpack for months, slept on snails on a camping trip, have been down to a single Euro in Amsterdam, and was hostel-less at 3am).
What Vegas does is exhaust all senses.
So, let's give a cheers to vacations - in all their forms and guises. Because until you've been to Vegas, you could've sworn you knew them all.
I'm happy to have known you, Vegas. I hope to see you soon, sexy lady. I'll miss you, friend. But I need a break from you because one can have too much of a good thing (especially if that thing seems to be on steroids and speed all the time.)
xox.
I say "almost" because five days after landing in Vancouver, sleeping in my old bed and snapping my lips hungrily at fresh BC water (oh, how I missed you!), I was on another plane headed south via Bellingham allll the way to the place where people leave a lot of things behind - namely money, integrity, normal GI levels, and memories.
Vegas.
$ A town whose article we frequently drop because it truly is one of a kind.$ An artificial city that looks like the Lord Almighty played a simultaneous game of Lego and Lite-Brite.
$ A place where one can't find a grocer, a clock, nor a dirty bathroom (thank god!) but always has plenty of O2, cheap alcohol, and fake sky.
$ A city that offers everything - but if you're smart, not all at once.
$ A place where it takes a long time to get anywhere or do anything (especially make decisions that don't involve pressing a single button that says "Bet" or "Lobby").
$ A place that I thought I'd never want to visit, let alone actually return to.
 |
| Rose-coloured glasses. |
 |
| no biggie. |
Before I knew it, I refueled poolside by working on my tan lines. It also made me realize that I forgot what desert heat felt like (my last trip to Israel was 3 summers ago). I'd actually close my eyes and have a very hard time figuring out from which direction the sun was hitting me.
 |
| dinner. |
 |
| breakfast (chicken & waffles) |
But, the true reason that my word today is "vacation" is that in all my amazement at the "Desert Rose", I actually don't think I had a vacation - or at least the kind I'm used to.
I stopped and smelled the roses, blew a bit of cash in return for exuberant sights and sounds, food, shopping, and clubbing. But I did not vacate. Sure, I vacated Vancouver to enter into an illusory life comprised of lights, slot machines, and firm asses; however, my body and mind worked in overdrive, and however much or little I drank, I still feel hungover from head to toe. I sustained a right pinky injury, a redder credit card bill than I planned for, and I've slept 30 hours over the last three nights. I wish I could blame it on jet lag, but I can't.
 |
| Because to see Vegas clearly is to not to have seen it all. (It's a coping strategy) |
But this one's different, folks. It's nothing I've ever experienced before (and trust me, I've lived out of a backpack for months, slept on snails on a camping trip, have been down to a single Euro in Amsterdam, and was hostel-less at 3am).
What Vegas does is exhaust all senses.
So, let's give a cheers to vacations - in all their forms and guises. Because until you've been to Vegas, you could've sworn you knew them all.
I'm happy to have known you, Vegas. I hope to see you soon, sexy lady. I'll miss you, friend. But I need a break from you because one can have too much of a good thing (especially if that thing seems to be on steroids and speed all the time.)
xox.
June 12, 2011
m.m.l. (n.)
Recently, I've taken to distinguishing from my "regular" life and "my Montreal life" (henceforth, MML).
I feel like there's so many differences that I have to mention the difference when talking about either. Neither wins over the other. Vancouver is overflowing with some of the greatest friends and good times a girl could ever wish for. Montreal is filled with some of the greatest food and entertainment a girl could ever wish for.
Vancouver Vish is yoga-seawall-snowboarding-beach-bum-Naam-"corner-store" and hookah Vish. Montreal Vish is 4am gnocchi-triple-gin-bike-shopping-crazy-bakery-pillaging Vish.
Both are pretty awesome and happy. But it's hard to combine the two worlds. So, for now, I divide them and expect different things. For now, the summer is gonna be festival-crazy and just plain fun all around because so far, I like worktime and playtime :)
In spirit of MML, I've decided to compile a list (that I'll be updating) of Montreal-must do's, as I do them or plan to.
Here goes.
- Crescent Street: Sir Winston Churchill Pub (the site of poor Barney Panofsky's downward spiral) & Brutopia (the site of apricot beer - but only on the 1st floor...)
- Bixi-ing down to the old Port and all around on secure bike paths.
- St. Viateur's Bagel (is better than Fairmount! They're more fluffy and .. voluminous?..)
- Bluegrass at Barfly. A bit of a dirty bar, but nevertheless.
- Free Museum Day. Free culture!! Google it.
- Craigslist, thank you for my cheap (but quality coffee-worthy) coffee maker. What did we do before you?
- Patiti Patata poutine (=D)) [Yup, that's my attempt at making a unicode double chin]
- Dunn's kreplach and matzah ball soups at 3am; Schwartz's smoked meat sandwiches....the line is always worth it.
- The bar at the The W is pretttyyy wunderbar and worth a visit :)
- the Montenegro bar on St. Laurent: the owner Soki is very hilarious and really knows how to treat the real "locals".
- Ye Olde Orchard (on Prince Arthur) has awesome live music on most days. One night, Ben and I stumbled into a rockabilly-themed night.
- Marche Lobo (on Parc and Milton) - a budget grocery shopper's dream. It's worth a visit just to see the prices (and the food's healthy and often organic!)
- $2 Street "Chew Mein": it's the talk of the town (still!) Thanks to my dear friend, Mikey, the Historian. Unfortunately, the historian special is no longer available.
- Festival Mondial de la Biere. There's another one in Strasbourg- so it must mean that it's good. Plenty of beer (kinda expensive, but hey! where else can you drink up on many many many types of beers and hoola hoop to live music while chewing on bison?!)
- Crescent St. during the Grand Prix. Don't miss it if you like crowds, promo products, and of course, cars.
- Clubbing in the Gay Village - east St. Catherine. Wish I could remember where we wound up that night... but I'm sure they're all great.
- Caffee in Gamba. The best coffee in town. Especially great on an early Sunday when it's not busy. Biscotti is not optional, (I say).
- O Noir. Blind waiters, what!
- Sweet Lee's. Apparently, this rustic bakery, while currently only a travelling stand at select art fests (like Puce Pop), is opening a Montreal location in 3 weeks. I am suuuppperrrr stoked because, I know my dessert, and man oh man, I couldn't get enough of their carrot cheesecake (all fresh and wholesome ingredients, including pineapple!)
- Simons - a department store that speaks to my taste and budget. (Side note: The Bay in Montreal is amazingly well-stocked with quality designer labels and the shoes go on pretty good sales!!)
- By far, the best gypsy (country, blues) folk I've ever heard: The Unsettlers - I caught them for free @Pl. des Ameriques, when they opened Fringe Fest - and they blew me away! Very Nick Cave/Bregovic/Tom Waits-ish, but happier (or at least tragi-comedic). Listen to "Dead and Gone".
- And naturally, the Jazz Festival is on my list (starts on the 25th though), with 3 free Unsettlers shows!!
- Cheskie's Bakery in Outremont. 6 types of rugelach, challah the size of Ben's head.... sigh. :) Don't leave empty-handed.
- Romado's Rotisserie on Parc. Best Portuguese BBQ. Massive amounts of chicken, potatoes and rice for cheap. Order some custard pies on the side.
- Jardin Nelson.. best terrace ever. @Pl. J. Cartier in the Old Port.
- Suntanning and reading at Parc la Fontaine or at the McGill Campus.
- Tam Tam Sundays at Parc Jeanne-Mance :)
- I know this isn't any sort of "establishment", but my bed is so comfy. Comfy beds are so important, in regular life and in MML. (Which reminds me, it's time to go to bed.)
------------------------ to be continued ------------------------
July 25, 2011:
Because all good dictionaries get updated, here is an even more expanded definition of "MML":
- Bixi bikes have increased my enjoyment of MML to the nth degree - the joy I get from a night's breeze in my buzzed face on my way home down St. Urbain is magnifique.
- Chez Jose('s, haaa) houses what is may be one of the most amazing meals I've had (especially, for $9). Perhaps is was the colourful, grafitti-esque decor, the fruity smoothies (Yuniki is the bomb) or the avocado and cheese mix with the Portugese chicken, it's hard to say. Perhaps it's all three.
- This may seem a funny one, but: NYC. It's really great to have the city of cities only a 6.5 hour drive (i.e. weekend-trip) away, while getting to enjoy the benefits of living as a Canadian.
- Vintage shopping at it's best, (and I don't even like vintage shopping).
- The biggest outdoor terrace in North America: Le Saint-Sulpice in the Latin Quarter (though the Latin Q should also get it's own shout out!) It's like drinking beers with a football field filled with people.
- Rooftop pools + Friday afternoons off = a great start to a weekend.
- Concerts. While I'm sure I'm biased because it's summer and the city is teeming with festivals on every street at every hour, the concerts in Montreal are superb - from the free ones, to Osheaga, to the fact that I had the chance to watch Bono throw white roses at me from 3 rows away for $70 in the open air, while the Edge skirted around with his guitar metres above my head.
- Mont Royal. The view is spectacular, the lac is wack, there's pedal boats and dragon flies and lots of forest greenery to cool you off on a hot Montreal day. The "hike" is also doable in Birkenstocks (I have banned socks this summer so this is quite important).
- Checking out a game at Stade Molson is a must, for non-football and football fans alike. The view of downtown is spectacular once the sun sets if you get seats on the south side. It's especially cool because they allow in's and out's....which is even more cool if you lived kiddy corner to the stadium, like I did.
- Cafe Milton breakfasts - and pretty much any other Montreal breakfast. These people really know how to serve up their eggs, sausages, waffles, crepes, thick-cut toast, potatoes, orange juice and coffee. (And it's great after nights at places like St. Sulpice...)
- La Distillerie. If I became an alcoholic, I would blame the Planter's Punch, served in a clunky jar with chunks of pineapple, fresh-squeezed juice, and 2 oz of heavenly booze with lemon and grenadine.
- The old port at night is a place like none other. The cobblestone and lighting is romantic, the ice cream is plentiful, the artisan alleys are open late, and if you've planned it right, you can also catch some fireworks, then bike home in a warm breeze with a $20 caricature done of you, rolled-up in your basket waiting to be framed at home so that all your friends can laugh at you.
------------------------ to be continued ------------------------
I feel like there's so many differences that I have to mention the difference when talking about either. Neither wins over the other. Vancouver is overflowing with some of the greatest friends and good times a girl could ever wish for. Montreal is filled with some of the greatest food and entertainment a girl could ever wish for.
Vancouver Vish is yoga-seawall-snowboarding-beach-bum-Naam-"corner-store" and hookah Vish. Montreal Vish is 4am gnocchi-triple-gin-bike-shopping-crazy-bakery-pillaging Vish.
Both are pretty awesome and happy. But it's hard to combine the two worlds. So, for now, I divide them and expect different things. For now, the summer is gonna be festival-crazy and just plain fun all around because so far, I like worktime and playtime :)
In spirit of MML, I've decided to compile a list (that I'll be updating) of Montreal-must do's, as I do them or plan to.
Here goes.
- Crescent Street: Sir Winston Churchill Pub (the site of poor Barney Panofsky's downward spiral) & Brutopia (the site of apricot beer - but only on the 1st floor...)
- Bixi-ing down to the old Port and all around on secure bike paths.
- St. Viateur's Bagel (is better than Fairmount! They're more fluffy and .. voluminous?..)
- Bluegrass at Barfly. A bit of a dirty bar, but nevertheless.
- Free Museum Day. Free culture!! Google it.
- Craigslist, thank you for my cheap (but quality coffee-worthy) coffee maker. What did we do before you?
- Patiti Patata poutine (=D)) [Yup, that's my attempt at making a unicode double chin]- Dunn's kreplach and matzah ball soups at 3am; Schwartz's smoked meat sandwiches....the line is always worth it.
- The bar at the The W is pretttyyy wunderbar and worth a visit :)
- the Montenegro bar on St. Laurent: the owner Soki is very hilarious and really knows how to treat the real "locals".
- Ye Olde Orchard (on Prince Arthur) has awesome live music on most days. One night, Ben and I stumbled into a rockabilly-themed night.
- Marche Lobo (on Parc and Milton) - a budget grocery shopper's dream. It's worth a visit just to see the prices (and the food's healthy and often organic!)
- $2 Street "Chew Mein": it's the talk of the town (still!) Thanks to my dear friend, Mikey, the Historian. Unfortunately, the historian special is no longer available.- Festival Mondial de la Biere. There's another one in Strasbourg- so it must mean that it's good. Plenty of beer (kinda expensive, but hey! where else can you drink up on many many many types of beers and hoola hoop to live music while chewing on bison?!)
- Crescent St. during the Grand Prix. Don't miss it if you like crowds, promo products, and of course, cars.
- Clubbing in the Gay Village - east St. Catherine. Wish I could remember where we wound up that night... but I'm sure they're all great.
- Caffee in Gamba. The best coffee in town. Especially great on an early Sunday when it's not busy. Biscotti is not optional, (I say).
- O Noir. Blind waiters, what!
- Sweet Lee's. Apparently, this rustic bakery, while currently only a travelling stand at select art fests (like Puce Pop), is opening a Montreal location in 3 weeks. I am suuuppperrrr stoked because, I know my dessert, and man oh man, I couldn't get enough of their carrot cheesecake (all fresh and wholesome ingredients, including pineapple!)- Simons - a department store that speaks to my taste and budget. (Side note: The Bay in Montreal is amazingly well-stocked with quality designer labels and the shoes go on pretty good sales!!)
- By far, the best gypsy (country, blues) folk I've ever heard: The Unsettlers - I caught them for free @Pl. des Ameriques, when they opened Fringe Fest - and they blew me away! Very Nick Cave/Bregovic/Tom Waits-ish, but happier (or at least tragi-comedic). Listen to "Dead and Gone".
- And naturally, the Jazz Festival is on my list (starts on the 25th though), with 3 free Unsettlers shows!!
- Cheskie's Bakery in Outremont. 6 types of rugelach, challah the size of Ben's head.... sigh. :) Don't leave empty-handed.
- Romado's Rotisserie on Parc. Best Portuguese BBQ. Massive amounts of chicken, potatoes and rice for cheap. Order some custard pies on the side.
- Jardin Nelson.. best terrace ever. @Pl. J. Cartier in the Old Port.
- Suntanning and reading at Parc la Fontaine or at the McGill Campus.
- Tam Tam Sundays at Parc Jeanne-Mance :)
- I know this isn't any sort of "establishment", but my bed is so comfy. Comfy beds are so important, in regular life and in MML. (Which reminds me, it's time to go to bed.)
------------------------ to be continued ------------------------
July 25, 2011:
Because all good dictionaries get updated, here is an even more expanded definition of "MML":
- Bixi bikes have increased my enjoyment of MML to the nth degree - the joy I get from a night's breeze in my buzzed face on my way home down St. Urbain is magnifique.
- Chez Jose('s, haaa) houses what is may be one of the most amazing meals I've had (especially, for $9). Perhaps is was the colourful, grafitti-esque decor, the fruity smoothies (Yuniki is the bomb) or the avocado and cheese mix with the Portugese chicken, it's hard to say. Perhaps it's all three.- This may seem a funny one, but: NYC. It's really great to have the city of cities only a 6.5 hour drive (i.e. weekend-trip) away, while getting to enjoy the benefits of living as a Canadian.
- Vintage shopping at it's best, (and I don't even like vintage shopping).
- The biggest outdoor terrace in North America: Le Saint-Sulpice in the Latin Quarter (though the Latin Q should also get it's own shout out!) It's like drinking beers with a football field filled with people.- Rooftop pools + Friday afternoons off = a great start to a weekend.
- Concerts. While I'm sure I'm biased because it's summer and the city is teeming with festivals on every street at every hour, the concerts in Montreal are superb - from the free ones, to Osheaga, to the fact that I had the chance to watch Bono throw white roses at me from 3 rows away for $70 in the open air, while the Edge skirted around with his guitar metres above my head.- Mont Royal. The view is spectacular, the lac is wack, there's pedal boats and dragon flies and lots of forest greenery to cool you off on a hot Montreal day. The "hike" is also doable in Birkenstocks (I have banned socks this summer so this is quite important).
- Checking out a game at Stade Molson is a must, for non-football and football fans alike. The view of downtown is spectacular once the sun sets if you get seats on the south side. It's especially cool because they allow in's and out's....which is even more cool if you lived kiddy corner to the stadium, like I did.- Cafe Milton breakfasts - and pretty much any other Montreal breakfast. These people really know how to serve up their eggs, sausages, waffles, crepes, thick-cut toast, potatoes, orange juice and coffee. (And it's great after nights at places like St. Sulpice...)
- La Distillerie. If I became an alcoholic, I would blame the Planter's Punch, served in a clunky jar with chunks of pineapple, fresh-squeezed juice, and 2 oz of heavenly booze with lemon and grenadine.
- The old port at night is a place like none other. The cobblestone and lighting is romantic, the ice cream is plentiful, the artisan alleys are open late, and if you've planned it right, you can also catch some fireworks, then bike home in a warm breeze with a $20 caricature done of you, rolled-up in your basket waiting to be framed at home so that all your friends can laugh at you.
------------------------ to be continued ------------------------
March 13, 2011
prejudice (n.)
 |
| I drink, I fall down, no problem.” ~James Joyce |
In light of some recent conversations, (either mildly inebriated or dead sober in History of Publishing class), I got to talking about Jane Austen.
 |
| "An alcoholic is someone you don't like who drinks as much as you do." ~Dylan Thomas |
Over the weekend, I had a chat with some friends of mine and we somehow started talking about literature (we were probably drinking scotch). Our conversation also culminated with Jane Austen by way of Joyce and Conrad.
 |
| "What's so unpleasant about being drunk? You ask a glass of water" ~Douglas Adams |
I say, there's so many books out there to sift though that it is a skill in itself to discover unconventional, "non-English curriculum" authors like Graham Swift, Haruki Murakami, Richardson Davies, Ivo Andric, and Will Self - at the expense of Jane Austen - and all of whom I would have never discovered had I stuck to "Top 100 Novels of All Time" lists.
 |
| "Beer, of course, is actually a depressant. But poor people will never stop hoping otherwise." ~Kurt Vonnegut |
I call it being proud in my prejudice.
There's too much to experience to not pass judgment.
 |
| Drink and dance and laugh and lie, Love, the reeling midnight through, For tomorrow we shall die! (But, alas, we never do.)" ~Dorothy Parker |
"Good books, like good friends, are few and chosen; the more select, the more enjoyable."
~ Louisa May Alcott
March 3, 2011
goal (n.)
Having begun a yoga challenge two days ago (I know, inspiration comes fast!), it's made me reflect on other ways I've challenged myself this year.
I've always been a lover of lists, as most people who know me personally know. I write 'to do' lists all the time, especially before bedtime when I feel I need to get it all out of my head so I can truly unwind and have a good night's sleep. At the risk of sounding really OCD, I'll divulge: I'll place anything from important things like "meeting with x at y:yy pm" to trivialities I can't imagine I'd forget to do (like "shower" and "watch The Office). Ha. But, to each their own, and for me it works.
Though seemingly a bad thing, I sometimes remind myself of Hugh Grant's character, Will, in About a Boy, who compartmentalizes his life into units. Except, unlike Will, it all does mean a lot, and making my lists, though not endowed with meaning themselves, help me appreciate the great things I get to do in my life every day, which make me feel and be a better, more capable person.
I also have 'wish lists' (really, shopping lists), which come in handy because they help me "keep track" (yuck) of how I can reward myself when I feel I've come to deserve it. I also prefer "wish" over "shopping" because they're things I'd like to have one day, and not things I must purchase on an errand day. It reminds me I can do without but that I also deserve sometimes to do with.
I also have 'pros and cons' lists, which I'll jot down every now and then to help me make a decision. If I'm feeling ungrateful or a but murky or overwhelmed, I'll also turn these pros and cons into those relating to my life in order to give me some perspective.
But, all in all, the most important list is probably one I've never given physical presence: a list of goals, however big or small, that shape what I'd like to do with my life.
This brings me to "goal" - my word, today (notice it's not "list"). I particularily like it because it has the word go in it. It's active, motivating, conscious, and present. It's about time I gave it form.
This list is not one to just be casually jotted down with a bunch of boxes next to each point. It's of course subject to change, but I need to think about it a little (or a lot more).
Stay tuned.
 |
| "My life is made up of units of time. Buying CDs - two units. Eating lunch - three units. Exercising - two units. All in all, I had a very full life...." |
 |
| I am not an island! And I will never hold a baby like this! |
Though seemingly a bad thing, I sometimes remind myself of Hugh Grant's character, Will, in About a Boy, who compartmentalizes his life into units. Except, unlike Will, it all does mean a lot, and making my lists, though not endowed with meaning themselves, help me appreciate the great things I get to do in my life every day, which make me feel and be a better, more capable person.
I also have 'wish lists' (really, shopping lists), which come in handy because they help me "keep track" (yuck) of how I can reward myself when I feel I've come to deserve it. I also prefer "wish" over "shopping" because they're things I'd like to have one day, and not things I must purchase on an errand day. It reminds me I can do without but that I also deserve sometimes to do with.
I also have 'pros and cons' lists, which I'll jot down every now and then to help me make a decision. If I'm feeling ungrateful or a but murky or overwhelmed, I'll also turn these pros and cons into those relating to my life in order to give me some perspective.
But, all in all, the most important list is probably one I've never given physical presence: a list of goals, however big or small, that shape what I'd like to do with my life.
This brings me to "goal" - my word, today (notice it's not "list"). I particularily like it because it has the word go in it. It's active, motivating, conscious, and present. It's about time I gave it form.
This list is not one to just be casually jotted down with a bunch of boxes next to each point. It's of course subject to change, but I need to think about it a little (or a lot more).
Stay tuned.
March 2, 2011
challenge (n.)
Yesterday, I started a 30-day yoga challenge at my favourite Yoga studio in Vancouver: YYoga in Yaletown. While I'm definitely tooting the studio's horn - and I really genuinely want people to come out and try it - this month, I initially felt a little bit differently about spreading word about "my" little secret hideaway on Homer.
But, I've changed my mind! To infinity, and beyond!
I've had an unlimited yoga pass at the studio since September, going about 3-5 times a week.
"My kind" of classes are hot and power classes.
I like breaking a sweat rather than delving so deeply into yin stretches that I fall asleep; anusara also doesn't always do it for me because it asks my heart to be active more than my mind - and the reason I started yoga was to stabilize my though process, ease my nerves and stress, and wield the physical that controls my life. (Of course, after 30 days of yoga, I may start to feel differently.)
Anyway- I digress.
.
March happens to be a "challenge" month at YYoga; the challenge is to go to 30 yoga classes in 30 days. While I'm always up for a challenge, I initially had a couple of anti-yogic thoughts that threw me out of zen (I threw myself back in eventually):
.
1. Is yoga an errand that I must do daily to "succeed"? I like to feel it's part of my lifestyle, rather than a list of 30 boxes that I must check off to feel I've accomplished something to prove I didn't let myself down. The whole point of yoga is that it is not a quantifiable competition - and not really even with yourself. It's a way of being with, and in, and within yourself, on a daily basis - yes; but, on and off the mat.
.
and
.
After having these ineffective thoughts about what I feel is kind of marketing ploy to increase membership - I thought: so what if it is!
I'm thinking about it wro ng.I'm thinking about it wrong.
People should join yoga - and the more the merrier. The group energy is wonderful. You meet people who are doing the challenge too, and you support each other along the way as you start to feel like a sore, flexy, yoga robot, dragging your mat around with you, instantly aware of when your feet go wider than hip-distance (even while brushing your teeth...naw).
Showing up (in class and in life!) is always a challenge, and to submit to a consistent practice has its benefits: You get the opportunity to show up to class despite what your mind tells you. You also get to knock your body into shape - and eventually your mind follows too.
If yoga has taught me anything, it's that the attitude you bring to the mat ("and beyond!") trumps everything else. Understanding that may be the biggest challenge of all.
So, here I go, Day 1 behind me, looking forward to the next 29, starting with today (everyday) - come hell or high water.
But, I've changed my mind! To infinity, and beyond!
I've had an unlimited yoga pass at the studio since September, going about 3-5 times a week.
"My kind" of classes are hot and power classes.
I like breaking a sweat rather than delving so deeply into yin stretches that I fall asleep; anusara also doesn't always do it for me because it asks my heart to be active more than my mind - and the reason I started yoga was to stabilize my though process, ease my nerves and stress, and wield the physical that controls my life. (Of course, after 30 days of yoga, I may start to feel differently.)
Anyway- I digress.
.
 |
| low lunge |
.
1. Is yoga an errand that I must do daily to "succeed"? I like to feel it's part of my lifestyle, rather than a list of 30 boxes that I must check off to feel I've accomplished something to prove I didn't let myself down. The whole point of yoga is that it is not a quantifiable competition - and not really even with yourself. It's a way of being with, and in, and within yourself, on a daily basis - yes; but, on and off the mat.
.
 | |
| warrior 1 |
.
2. The studio gets so damn busy. Everyone takes advantage of the deal and before you know it, March means that changing-rooms get super crowded; you have to dash to find a hook for your jacket, show up extra early to snag your third-favourite spot, and start to notice some people totally getting into a frenzy about landing an early shower slot so they can go home earlier than everyone else. Totally not in yoga spirit, and not the best energy to be around..
After having these ineffective thoughts about what I feel is kind of marketing ploy to increase membership - I thought: so what if it is!
I'm thinking about it wro ng.I'm thinking about it wrong.
People should join yoga - and the more the merrier. The group energy is wonderful. You meet people who are doing the challenge too, and you support each other along the way as you start to feel like a sore, flexy, yoga robot, dragging your mat around with you, instantly aware of when your feet go wider than hip-distance (even while brushing your teeth...naw).
 | |
| mountain pose. |
Showing up (in class and in life!) is always a challenge, and to submit to a consistent practice has its benefits: You get the opportunity to show up to class despite what your mind tells you. You also get to knock your body into shape - and eventually your mind follows too.
If yoga has taught me anything, it's that the attitude you bring to the mat ("and beyond!") trumps everything else. Understanding that may be the biggest challenge of all.
So, here I go, Day 1 behind me, looking forward to the next 29, starting with today (everyday) - come hell or high water.
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