Wow! I don't know why this surprised me so much. Let me tell you the play-by-play of my trip-related surprises today. This morning I got an email from my favourite Vanessa*...
My Official Letter of Welcome! My yoga teacher training (YTT200) Class Schedule! and I was super excited! (not surprising)
Theeeennn I read it carefully (surprising) and found a couple details, well, surprising! I obviously researched the program but I did not realize the nine (9) hours of silence would encompass breakfast, every day. My dear University roommates might suggest this would be the perfect time for me to be silent as that was certainly not my moment to shine those years, but now I feel a bit... surprised. For anyone else who knows me this idea of Lyndia + silence has probably already rendered you speechless.
Well I say (think, I mean think!), "bring it on! I look forward to quietly silently contemplating the Himalayas over my oatmeal!" Ok, that's actually awe-inspiring.
The other big surprise? There is a written exam, verbal presentation and a 1500 word essay to pass the course! At first my surprise was in the "shock" variety. Then I felt the shift to excitement as I started plotting what books I'd reference for the paper and which yoga sutras I'd most like to present on. If it weren't for the fact some of those books are taped up in boxes... I'd be done 500 words already. So the total surprise? That I'm SUPER EXCITED to have homework again! Three cheers for nerds!!
Oh, there was one other thing... when I continued to the third (fourth?) attachment that indicated the yoga school (ashram) tries to be as environmentally friendly as possible and I was, again, pleasantly surprised! I love that stuff!! But then I contemplated... travel mug? Easy! Cloth handkerchiefs? Uhhh... I do not even know where to look. So there will be at least one more preparation adventure in my future. But for now, I better go pack another stinkin' box. Hint: don't ever move in winter.
*names changed for privacy but syllables remain the same.
January 11, 2011
January 10, 2011
quitting the Alberta habit
I am now convinced that this province is an addiction - it takes up more than my average, daily waking hours; I spend at least 50% of my income on/in it; I think about it when I am not there; and I am talking about it to other people all the time. It's no DSM-vi definition but I'm sure it's close enough to addiction.
It has not proven easy to break this habit. First, there is a great deal of emotional strain. People everywhere reminding me how little time I have left. Sometimes I wonder if I am on my deathbed because it's said with such despair. Other times it must be my long-awaited day of reckoning or surprise end to a life prison sentence; the words just bubble out like Eagle Brand® Sweetened Condensed Milk-of-happiness. I refuse to read anything into these diametrically opposed options, of course.
But it's not just that. There are other little items, mere material possessions that I didn't even think I cared about that start up some kind of projection/defense mechanism response.
Yes, I'm selling (nearly) everything.
Yes, I'm okay with that.
Yes, it'll make life easier in the long run.
But seriously, everytime someone makes an offer on my sofa am I going to tear up? No. Hopefully not after today. Eager buyers knocking down my door in the post-dinner rush. Bring it oooonn! (but do take your boots off first). It's a kitchen-supplies flea market in here. I better not start sobbing over my beautiful like-new green strainer or semi-complete set of flat ware.
I mean it's not like it's my bike or anything!
Again, the pre-trip preparations continue (anti-malarias obtained, travel insurance procured & even completed my pre-trial-run pack!) an epic battle rages... to reconcile my addiction (with life-long relapses) to Alberta. Well, not the two-foot-snowfall-car-stuck-in-parking-lot-shoveling-out-with-an-ice-scraper-no-one-helping-push-snot-freezing-ice-slipping drudgery. That's about as pleasant as... well... as it sounds.
But despite all that, I still expect withdrawals.
(only 14 days left)
It has not proven easy to break this habit. First, there is a great deal of emotional strain. People everywhere reminding me how little time I have left. Sometimes I wonder if I am on my deathbed because it's said with such despair. Other times it must be my long-awaited day of reckoning or surprise end to a life prison sentence; the words just bubble out like Eagle Brand® Sweetened Condensed Milk-of-happiness. I refuse to read anything into these diametrically opposed options, of course.
But it's not just that. There are other little items, mere material possessions that I didn't even think I cared about that start up some kind of projection/defense mechanism response.
Yes, I'm selling (nearly) everything.
Yes, I'm okay with that.
Yes, it'll make life easier in the long run.
But seriously, everytime someone makes an offer on my sofa am I going to tear up? No. Hopefully not after today. Eager buyers knocking down my door in the post-dinner rush. Bring it oooonn! (but do take your boots off first). It's a kitchen-supplies flea market in here. I better not start sobbing over my beautiful like-new green strainer or semi-complete set of flat ware.
I mean it's not like it's my bike or anything!
Again, the pre-trip preparations continue (anti-malarias obtained, travel insurance procured & even completed my pre-trial-run pack!) an epic battle rages... to reconcile my addiction (with life-long relapses) to Alberta. Well, not the two-foot-snowfall-car-stuck-in-parking-lot-shoveling-out-with-an-ice-scraper-no-one-helping-push-snot-freezing-ice-slipping drudgery. That's about as pleasant as... well... as it sounds.
But despite all that, I still expect withdrawals.
(only 14 days left)
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