Something's Going on Around Here

Something is definitely going on around here. Maybe it's time to change the name of my blog.

Not so fast.

First of all, I want you all to know I still teach yoga. Lots. It's just that you can't come to most of the classes I teach. I've been bumping into people at the Green Door and at Bluesfest asking me where I've gone and am I still teaching, and it does feel like I'm coming out of some kind of hiding place when I turn up at public gatherings. More on that later. So I still am Jamine, Yoga Teacher.

A while back I chose to stop teaching public yoga classes for a variety of reasons. Some personal, some practical, and I do miss having contact with lots of students. So maybe that will get fired up again. After my daughter leaves.

And that's the big thing. My daughter is leaving. Guys, she's grown up already. That little kid who opened the doors during my yoga classes, or waited for me outside, or who you may have heard about for years or even had the chance to see in person, has made it to the end of high school. The End of High School.

Know what comes after that? University. I parented a child who has made some powerful choices and one of the choices she's made is to leave Ottawa and go and live in Toronto, where she will attend U of T (Woodsworth College, to be specific).

I'm so excited. I'm proud of her. I'm proud of me! I'm proud of her dad and me! I am honestly thrilled that she's going to go off and study and be with new people and have new experiences and be in a great city (I grew up in Toronto).

But I am dreading September 6. Or 5. Whichever night it is that I come back home after dropping her off at her residence on Bloor Street. The night I come back home to my empty house.

My house is really empty. No boyfriend, hasn't been for over a year and a half, I know, I haven't updated you. I live in a 3-bedroom house that I bought myself and have lived in for 14 years with at least my daughter and starting in September, I will be living there alone. With the dog, for a few more weeks after that, because the dog is a Guide Dog in training, and her time will be up mid-October unless they give me an extension.

So September 5 or 6 or whatever, I open the door to my house and be alone. No one to hand dishes to to put away. No one to pick up after. No one to pick groceries up. No one to cook for. This makes me so very sad. Being a mom is one thing. Being a single mom is another thing. And then there's that very tight place of being single mom of an only child. Who is leaving.

Having had the experience of being so close to someone for so long, I'm afraid of September. I'm afraid of September for other reasons, not to mention that I'll be turning 50 that month as well.

I'm sure there will be good parts. I'm open to being surprised with how much fun I'll be able to have. But right now, I'm so sad.

To get out and be with people, I started volunteering at Bluesfest a year ago. I'm the IT Volunteer Team leader. I get to see a lot of shows. The other night I saw Joe Jackson and he sang this.

Mother Daughter Yoga at Omega

It's that time again. Time to head down to Omega for Mother Daughter Yoga. This time it feels different though.

Is this the last time we'll do it? Remmy has just graduated from high school and next summer may be busy with a job and other things. Will we be too old of a pair to continue to do it?

As I prepare to be in a workshop that has us look at what our relationships are like and how much we appreciate our daughters and how we can acknowledge ourselves as mothers for what we didn't get acknowledged for, I'm afraid I won't be able to keep it together.

I live alone with my daughter. It's been just the two of us for sometime. The thought of her not being in her room or hanging out on the couch anymore scares me. What will my life be like in a few months when she's not around anymore? We didn't do practice rounds. She didn't go away to overnight camp or go on trips with other people. We've been together for such a long time.

I'm not at all sorry this is happening, in fact, it's what we've been working towards. But now the end is clearly in sight. The finish line is just up ahead. And then my heart will be ripped out of my body and stepped on and I'll be all alone. Okay, okay, it's not going to probably be like that. But I have feelings inside like it will be like that.

Pema Chodron's lineage teaches us to live life with a broken heart. Go around in our lives with that tenderness and vulnerability at times. I definitely have a broken, tender heart. And teaching yoga from that place this weekend, being there for others while I feel my own sad, proud, open heart, will be a challenge. (Don't worry, I've got this.)

My Dad's Stuff

My dad died quite in the middle of doing things. He was not planning on going.

I've realized that it's in death that we drop our masks. What we've been hiding remains, unless we've been cleaning up all along. When we match our inner worlds with our outer worlds, there won't be so many messes when we're gone. My dad was a great guy but he kept things that didn't need keeping.

This past weekend in the Yoga Teacher Training I was teaching a bit about Saucha, or purity, and I was reminded of an event that had happened exactly a year ago...

We had heard that things had turned in my dad's health - he had cancer - and we should come right away. I spoke to him and told him I was on the way. I'd be there in two days. My father died while my sister and I were en route to visit him. So we got to Texas and our trip was different than we had been planning. Instead of a visit with him we were left with his stuff and dealing with what you have to deal with when someone close to you dies.

One of the days while we were down there was a holiday, so most things were closed and we didn't really have much to do so we thought we'd go open his storage locker we were told he had. My dad used to wear a fanny-pack and his keys were all attached to that. All of his keys. His friend told us he knew were the storage locker was and could take us there.

We drove out to the edge of town where he thought the storage place was, and sure enough, there was the slightly hidden driveway. When we got to the entrance, our father's friend left us. He only knew which place the storage locker was at because he drove my dad there every once in a while to drop off his checks to pay for it. He had no idea which locker it was. "Which way did he walk when he went to the locker?" we asked him. He didn't go to the locker - he just went to the office and dropped off the check.

We called the number on the closed office door to see if someone could let us know which locker of the hundreds on the site were our father's. They couldn't help us for one thing because they don't give out that kind of information to just anyone and second thing, the computer was in the office, not where we were calling.

We didn't have much else to do and it was just my sister and me with our little rental car and a whack of keys so we decided we'd hunt for it. "Do you think he'd have a big one or a little one?" "Which kind of lock do you think he used?" No clue. So we proceeded to go to each locker and try each key. Maybe this wasn't even the right place. Maybe he didn't have a locker or it was inside. Who knows.

As we went up and down the gravel roads of lockers trying each rusty lock a few times with different keys we started to imagine what could be so important that he'd have a locker even though he had a home with plenty of space. Maybe this would be our inheritance. Maybe he's got something really interesting to leave us. Maybe he'd been secretly stashing collections that would have value. Maybe it's full of good things we can sell or use.

Finally, at practically the last locker, at the last corner we turned, my sister yelled out that she'd found it. This is the one. We took a big breath. This was it. My dad's treasures. His secrets for us.

So you can already imagine or scroll down and see the pictures of what we found. A big bag of nothing. Old computer parts. Old ones. Dusty photo albums that were damaged from water and rodent excrement. A bar stool. Broken fishing rods that hadn't been used in years. That was my dad. It couldn't have been any other way, of course. It had to be that way. That's just how we was and we loved him.

But really? Come on, Dad. You spent money you didn't have every month to keep this pile you couldn't confront and sort through. Maybe if we had visited Texas a year earlier we could have helped clean it out when he could tell us what was special about each thing. But we didn't do that.

So I came home to my mom and family here saying please clean out your stuff now - tell us what's important so we can know why you kept what you did. Where are the keys to the motorcycle and the house and where is the important stuff? Do you have insurance? Where are the papers we need? I want to make sure I leave a trail so my loved ones can know what I meant and was up to.

In the end of course it doesn't matter. Clean up or don't. But if you clean up while you can, you may get to experience the satisfaction that comes when you align yourself, the energy that's freed up when you know where things go. When you know what you have and you don't keep more than you can handle.

After the trip out to Texas to attend my father's funeral and handle some of his affairs, I came home with a strong message for everyone in my family - Please Clean Up Your Stuff So We Don't Have To Do It When You're Dead. It's a drag.

It's been a year exactly since we were down there saying goodbye to my dad. Since that time I notice him all over the place. In the newspaper Sudoko puzzles, in the spider plant like he used to keep in all his houses, in my memories of crazy experiences like the ones I just shared here. He's not gone, he's been converted, but shit, it would have been nice not to have had to clean up his big mess.

Attending a Funeral Today

I knew my dad had cancer and was being treated for it. I didn't know that he was as sick as he was - few people had any idea - even those closest to him. When I got the message that he was pretty sick, I immediately made arrangements to come down and see him. I spoke to him on the phone and told him I was coming. We told each other we loved each other and I had a funny feeling that it might be the last time I talked to him. As he lay in his death bed he told me he felt lucky to have such good friends and family. The big trip down to Kerrville, Texas, to see my dad became a trip to attend his funeral, however, as he passed away the following day.

His funeral is later this afternoon and I'm thinking about what I want to say about him. I wasn't that close with my dad. He left when I was young and moved far away when I was 13. We stayed in touch and had visits every year or two. There was a time when I felt annoyed with how he'd been with me. A few years ago it used to bug me that he'd send me emails with baby animals or angels or good luck wishes or the dreaded How to Keep Your Wife Happy sort of lists. I used to think my dad didn't "get" me, he didn't appreciate me, he was just trying to bug me by sending those impersonal emails. It finally dawned on me that he was thinking of me. He did love me, and that's how he was showing it to me (one of the ways). Everything changed that day. Instead of feeling annoyed by the emails from my dad, I looked forward to them. I shared his sense of humour, I laughed at the jokes he was telling me, and more importantly, I accepted his love the way he was offering it.

The last few years I had with my dad were much lighter. We'd play Scrabulous on Facebook. We'd have phone calls more regularly (especially when I was doing Landmark Education's Introduction Leaders Program). He drove up to visit. That's a long drive, but he did it more than once. He sent birthday checks for Remmy - late, but he'd get it eventually. When he'd visit we'd bowl on the Wii or play real Scrabble. We sat next to each other and did crossword puzzles. We played Yahtzee.

But one of the things I did almost my whole life with my dad was ride in the car. I remember sitting on his lap when I was little and driving. He tried to teach me how to drive standard while I was a teenager on a visit to Calgary (it took me some years to get the hang of it). It's when we were on long drives together that we'd really talk. We couldn't read or play Scrabble while we were driving so we'd have long conversations. I remember that being in the car with my dad was really comfortable. He was a patient, good driver. My dad didn't have road rage and yell at other drivers - and although many people would say my dad was the most non-judgemental person they've ever met, I would say they hadn't really taken a drive with him. But even then he was gentle and patient in his irritation.

My dad traded cars with people and it seemed like he always had more than one car. I know there were times when his driveway seemed full of cars, vans and motorcycles. He went on to become a bus driver for schools, the city, tour busses and for a while, the LRT system in Calgary.

The last time he visited me in Ottawa I was driving him out to visit everybody in my car (which if you know me, you know I absolutely love) and he commented on my driving. He told me he thought I was a really good driver. I left lots of space, signalled when I changed lanes, and he said he felt really comfortable with me in the car. That meant a lot to me coming from him.

So even though he's gone, I know I will still find him on long drives. I'll hear him in corny emails, and feel him when I choose to take a step back and let others go first. His nickname for years was Trudge. He was never in a hurry to get anywhere and honestly took life one day at a time. Some days if you see me trudging along, taking it slower than usual, you may be catching me at a time when I'm connecting with my dad.

I'm still not sure what I'm going to say at the funeral, if I'm going to speak at all. He was a special man who meant a lot to a lot of people down here and there will be many people who will speak if I choose not to. But I think I will share a few words at this occasion, even if it doesn't make sense to anybody else...the funeral's not for a few more hours so I have time to think about it still...

Visualization

I came across this post tonight and I thought it was useful. I've been reading about the oil leak/spill and feeling really sad and down about it at times, reflecting on how bad things are going to be for the people of the area and for all of the animals. I'm not saying this video is going to help, but it was something I saw that wasn't just the bad news. It is using the power of intention to help heal an unwanted situation.

Where I spent time this winter in Florida is going to be impacted by this oil disaster. Things there will change for sure. Of course there is an opportunity for things to get better, for new inventions to be made, for things to change so we prevent against it happening again in the future.

But from up here in Ottawa, here's something maybe we can do to support the efforts of stopping the leak at the site down in the Gulf of Mexico.

Adam's site can be found here.

Wish I'd Done Better/Restoring Integrity

I'm sitting in a place right now of wishing I'd done better in a recent conversation that spanned a couple of days and included a phone call with some follow up emails. I'm wishing I'd kept my cool, witnessed the sensations instead of reacting from that place. I felt the sensations coming up and I considered not acting but I chose to share what was on my mind and now I'm sort of sorry that I did. I remember one of the key lessons I got from the Landmark Forum was that being right is a very lonely place. I realize I've been spending some time being right and it serves me in that it helps me get my own thoughts straight in some cases, but it really isn't a good place to communicate from and I've been doing some communicating from that place the past couple of days.

I've seen the circles of "something happened" and "what I'm making it mean/my story about what happened" like shadows but they didn't come to the forefront in time for me to not react to the situation as though what happened is what I'm making up. And what I tend to make up is stuff about myself that doesn't feel good, like I'm too this or too that, and I go and make up stuff about other people as though they're too this or too that, and it's not a nice way to feel. On top of it, I then treat the other person as though my story is true, and even if it didn't start off that way, through my powers of making it seem that way, it sure ends up being true and then I can be right some more and the cycle continues.

(There's a quick video here. Click on See it in Action and then click on the woman with the white necklace.)

I know better. I know it's not a great way to exist. And yet, I'm a bit out of practice and I didn't have it in me to do it the way I could have. So I'm trying to forgive myself for falling into the trap I laid out for myself. I'm trying to return to the "what's so" so I can be present, where things are always manageable. Where I'm left right now though is quite sad and more than a bit isolated.

So what do you do when you notice there's a breakdown? You first of all acknowledge it. "I had a breakdown in my communication!" What do you do then? Restore your integrity. "It is not my intention to make other people wrong for how they are. My plan is to be open, to not collapse what happened with what I make it mean, and just stop making stories up, especially ones that don't work for me." You can also notice the impact it has on other people when you do that. "Wow, when I make up stuff about what happened, I'm not listening to you. I'm not present to you. And that creates distance when what I really want is connection." And then you continue with your commitment/integrity restored. "You can count on me to listen. And I will acknowledge when I'm not and restore my intention."

It's a lot like yoga. Notice where you feel the sensations and breathe into them. Allow them to be there.

When Sadness Comes to Town

Earlier today I had what felt like a sad attack. I just started feeling sad and it didn't let up until after I'd cried a bunch and called a friend who could relate and coach me to get out of the house and go for a walk and remember it's like the weather, it will pass. I've got no reason to be sad and I've got loads of reasons to be sad. My grandmother fell down and broke her hip, never good but especially not when you're 92. I read that people are still denying global warming because all the snow that fell on Washington DC makes it seem like it's getting colder rather than warmer. I could go on and work myself into sadness again.

And then of course I have no good reason to be sad - I'm healthy - in fact, I'm so healthy I didn't even catch a single cold this entire winter. I have all of my family around. Both of my parents are still alive. I have a beautiful, heathy daughter. I don't live in a place that's suffering a natural disaster (except for long winters in Ottawa, but we anticipate it annually), and I could go on and on and count my blessings some more.

But just like the weather isn't personal, inner states aren't personal either. They matter and feel a lot more, but they don't mean anything about who I am or what I'm about. They get tricky because as thought processes, I make the mistake that it's all true and I should believe them and I forget that it's weather and will pass. Plus, in order to have a good cry, you sort of have to take it all quite seriously, otherwise the cry stops and turns into a laugh or a meh.

And it turns out this getting out of the house thing is good for me. I like going to Bridgehead and invariably I run into many people I know when I'm here. So even though it costs me a few bucks extra, it's worth it.

No Wonder I Was Crying

I was in the car today on my way from Kanata, where I've been working on the iPhone app, which is going to be finished any day now, to pick Remi up from school, which is on the other side of town and I had some time in the car. I like to listen to the radio and so I tuned in to CKCU.



They've been playing some seasonal music over the past week and today there was a piece I was listening to that sounded familiar but so sad. I couldn't place it but I just sat back, drove slowly, and noticed the tears starting to stream down my face. Traffic was moving slowly too, so the tears in my eyes weren't that much of a hazard.

It turns out I was listening to Gorecki's Symphony of Sorrowful Songs. I think I caught the third movement. When you hear the first part of the second movement you may for sure recognize it.



David at the station said he had put the show together in the theme "from darkness to light" for this time of year. How beautiful. He sent an email reply and we chatted on the phone after I called the station. Thanks again for playing it. So these pieces made up the darkness part of his show. The rest of the show was all joyful, but this was the part that sang to me and opened me up.

Honestly

I started this blog almost three years ago to deal with my "mandate," and I've been reflecting lately about how much I am in the same place I was three years ago. I've travelled around, seen new sights, and circled back to where I started on more than one occasion.

I'm a bit older. I have learned a few new things. But essentially, I feel like I'm in the same place. So I'm probably not. I'm probably further along on my path. I know I've opened up and grown and I'm nicer and deeper and other things. But it feels the same. I know more. I can see bigger pictures. But it feels the same inside. And it's uncomfortable.

And I know now that it's more than normal to feel uncomfortable. And I'm more aware of my discomfort. And that doesn't make the discomfort more comfortable for the most part. I still want things to be different than they are a lot of the time. My own words ring in my ears about how it's important to allow myself to be as I am and that things are going to change. Some of the changes I'll like, some I won't like.

I know that being present with what is, is the way to go. I know that to allow the moment to be as it is, is the healthy, enlightened option. But often I don't feel that way. I want to manage things. I want to change stuff. I want to edit my life. I want to grow in areas I feel weak in. And that's just how I'm feeling.

Sometimes I don't feel that way and I feel grateful and lucky and happy and pleased with my choices. That happens for awhile everyday too. But just like it's that one negative comment on the feedback form that sticks with you, the "what's not working" seems to stay in my brain and repeat itself off and on through my day.

Not Okay

I'm not okay. I'm not okay with what's happening and with people and with everything right now. My latest thing is that the Shepherds of Good Hope installed a giant balcony at eye level with my place that is being used all day by guys standing outside and smoking. I took a picture when there was just one guy, but usually there are more. I have a call in to find out what is going on - just so I know what to expect. I'll be fine. Not to mention I still have a computer virus, my Mac mouse has crapped out again and I'm definitely being impacted by my environment. And we'll all be fine.

John's few remaining items are in my living room and I'm itching to get rid of his dresser (I'm mad) - the one he said he couldn't carry. We used to joke when he moved in with his 3 laundry baskets of stuff that it would take him a minute to move out. (Yes, it was a red flag at the time but I was smitten.) Then he bought a dresser and then he acquired a painting. We used to "joke" that when he moved out he'd take his dresser and his painting. Ha. Guess this has been coming for a while...

I'm angry and bitter, I cry a lot and yea, yea, I can zoom out to the orbit where this is fine, life is unfolding perfectly, but the gravitational pull of this sucks and I'm confused and hurt is too strong today. That's the planet I'm on. I'll have to use my yogic powers and transport myself to a new planet. I've got plans for that, don't you worry. Plus, next week I have Appointments.

Oh and yesterday I was still a bit confused - like, "what's going on? are we still seeing each other?" - because we did - and, "what about Valentines Day?" - our "anniversary" and my trainer says, "Jamine, did you read your blog? You guys broke up." I was dumbfounded. It's sinking in now. And my sister keeps reminding me that actions speak louder than words. "Look at actions, don't listen to the words because he's going to say what he thinks you want to hear, or anything that will keep you off his back."

And now I can get back to my Other Projects besides being in relationship - things I used to do when I was On My Own. Things like Another DVD. Things like a meditation CD. I got comfortable there for a while and I turned down my entrepreneurial spirit. Time to turn that back up. Channel my energy into expressing myself.

As John has said, "life goes on." And as Nina in Toronto reminded me yesterday, things will get better, way better.

Emotional Roller Coaster

We're getting off the roller coaster for a bit. He's moving out. Actually, he moved out already. And then I go and teach yoga and try to act like I'm okay, and don't answer when people say "how are you?" My job as a yoga teacher is to be a mirror so announcing to anyone what's going on in that department isn't something I'd normally do. As a yoga teacher I sort of get out of the way so I can just teach. But it has been hard. And sometimes, depending on the situation I do fill people in. I'm human, you know?

I thought this was it. I thought he was "the one." I thought our love was strong and we could make it. I bought the whole dream and I was so hoping it was coming true.

I could go into details about how terribly wrong things went and how far off the mark this relationship ended up. I could relay how intensely sad and tired I am from hanging on, which I was justifying as "taking a stand," and not giving up until it was painfully obvious I wasn't going to get my way no matter how hard I tried. I wanted to "create something from nothing" and allow the moment to be as it was. I tried breathing into those sensations in my stomach where it felt like I'd been kicked. I tried making sense of it. Of pleading, of trying to let go of trying to pull back so I could get to that place of "it's all good."

None of that is working. So what's happening is I'm plain old sad. And hurt, as you can appreciate. I'm not sure what to tell my daughter because I'm not really sure how this is going to go. He's acting like he'll be a good guy and stay connected and we'll just deal with this as we can when there's a flow in life. When there's a big roller coaster that we're on.

Reality is manageable. I want to see what happened and keep it separate from what I'm making it mean. What happened is I don't have the relationship that I wanted. What happened is this one didn't go the way I wanted it to. What happened is I'm alone again. And I can make that mean whatever I want. Honestly, I'm still making it mean I'm rotten in relationships, I'm too demanding, I'm being paid back for poor actions I've done in the past, and none of that really matters. None of it is going to bring back my dream. I'll make a new one though...

I know time will take care of this. I know it will get easier. I know my daughter will get over it. I know I'll be okay. But right now I feel so awful. I can't help it. I can try all of my mind-warping techniques, but the deal is that right now I'm overcome with sadness and grief.