And thoughts go by

I've been doing more yoga lately. I follow a lady from Britain who posts live workouts and twice a week she does yoga. A few times now, she's started by saying, "can you let yourself be here, in your body, away from everything else. Can you allow yourself into this space". And we move through a series of poses and stretches and I get frustrated because my body isn't strong enough or not flexible enough. Its a process and I have to keep practicing. And at the end, she comes back to what she's said at the beginning. And, depending where you stand on the idea of chakra or being blocked emotionally, take this as you will. But I often find myself crying at the end of these sessions because something has released inside me. Sometimes your body knows more than your head. I can't often pin point why I'm crying but perhaps its because my body knows something isn't quite right with the world right now in a way that my mind has yet to understand and accept. I...

People protested today at the province's parliament. I'm assuming to show disapproval at the measures that continue to be in place. And while I don't agree, to be honest, I kind of get it. Many of us are tired of this new normal that was thrust upon us without consent. When our houses start to feel like prisons instead of homes, it gets...frustrating. I don't look forward to tomorrow like I use to because tomorrow is the exact same as today. Have you seen the movie Groundhog Day? To be honest, I'm not sure I've seen the whole thing...I have a tendency to fall asleep during moves, much to my chagrin. But the poor guy wakes up and does the same day over and over and over. I don't know how the movie ends. Perhaps I'll see if it's on one of the subscriptions I have and find out tonight.  I guess what it comes down to, is that people need a reason to get up in the morning. A reason to make life worth living. Thankfully, I have class starting on Monday....

I've been thinking lately about the things we hold on to. Some of these things fill our homes, some fill memories, some fill dreams. And I'm sitting on the floor of my bedroom, channeling my inner Marie Kondo, picking up each book off the floor and asking myself if it still sparks joy thus determining its fate of the bookshelf or the box marked 'goodwill'. Most books are no brainers and go right back on the shelf. They hold too many memories to let go of. Some, I acknowledge that I will probably never read again but still remain on the shelf. A few I struggle to let go of. But I have to finally admit it is time to let go when I find a receipt from 2012 still stuck after the first chapter, having never finished the book. And I wondered at the things I have trouble letting go of. And I wonder if a huge part of letting go has to do with how we look at ourselves and how we think of the future. Maybe its about dreams. Believing that we are the person to pick up that book a...

I sat at my desk this morning and stared at an empty screen fully intending to fill the page with words. But the more I sat and stared at the blinking cursor, the less I could find to write about. An overwhelming sense of loss filled me as the clock ticked and Emptiness opened the door to come inside and took a seat on the couch. Instead of brushing it away, I abandoned my attempt to write and sat down next to it and turned on a movie I'd been watching the previous evening. And I sat with Emptiness for a while to gauge how long it would stay and to ask questions of why it had shown up at all. I know this sounds somber. Bear with me. For many, isolating has led to a life of climbing over top of one another, arguing over little things that suddenly appeared where annoyances never were before. Days are filled with tasks that cannot be put off. But my isolation is instead a time of self-reflection and introspection. I do not always mind this. So while Emptiness might take a seat on...

It's ok to be overwhelmed. To want to shut off all the noise and hide for a while. To not turn on the news. To not want to know about the terrible things happening in other countries or the impending doom that seems to be surmounting as the numbers rise. I drove through the starbucks drive through last week.  I went shopping to two different stores yesterday with a friend. These brief moments were a breath of fresh air surrounded in a myriad of voices in my head telling me a million things. Watch my distance. That person is standing too close. Use a glove to pick that up. Turn your face away if that person walks too close in case they breath on you. Ignore the urge to scratch your face. Don't stare at the person who just coughed. Don't judge the person whose cart is filled with canned goods. Wash your hands. Sanitize everything. Don't feel guilty for going out. Don't feel guilty for staying home. We are grieving. Maybe some of us hide well under our produc...

He reached the top of the mound, his dry boots kicking up dust. He coughed. A withered hand stretched up to wipe the sweat dripping down his forehead and stayed to shield his eyes from the scorching sun. He was tired. He looked across the pathetic fields and wondered if it would always be this way. Hot, dry, with no rain to speak of and a crop that barely fed himself. Jerry looked around and half smiled at the fleeting memories of what use to be. "Just a short dry spell" the optimists had said. He kicked at the dirt and chuckled, "some dry spell" he muttered watching the wind whip up the dust and fling it across the sky. He had stopped hoping for rain years ago.