So, I’m trying to balance a full-time job, teaching yoga, following a traditional Ashtanga practice (6 practice days per week) and still having time to sleep.

Teaching at the school I attend is tricky, because, well, the studio’s having some financial trouble (translated: we don’t get paid very often). I was teaching two classes for a government group that wants onsite yoga, but we’ve trimmed it down to one over the summer. I was pretty stoked to only teach two classes, but a teaching offer has come up that is really great. Only thing is, it’s for a Sunday class, which means no weekends away.

Adam doesn’t think I should take it without dropping another class, but that’s so hard. The class to drop, without question, is the one at my school, for many reasons (not getting paid is but one of a myriad of reasons), but I also love my students there. So, to solve it, Adam and I just fought about it and now it’s an hour and a half past when I should’ve gone to bed, seeing’s how I’m up at 6 am to practice.

Seriously. Yoga is stressing me out. That looks wrong even to read… sigh.

So, it occurs to me that people in general aren’t super happy. Not about anything in particular, but mostly about everything. And I think that, maybe, the problem is we assume that’s okay. People assume we have to be unhappy, or at least just not not be unhappy, if that makes any sense. Adam deciding to go into coaching has me thinking about this even more.

To spend your life in pursuit of pleasure is considered hedonism, which is not something we, as a society, feel is a respectable pursuit. Apparently, the pursuit of drudgery, cynicism and a general sense of malaise is much more apropos to life in our fast lane.

I dunno: I kind of think life is short, so we should enjoy it. I mean, assuming that whatever you enjoy isn’t harming anyone else or directly inhibiting their pursuits, that is. I know this is pretty simplistic and there are a million arguments about why my simplistic views on life and happiness won’t work in the real world. But that’s okay. I guess as long as there are more people who assume that a life of not-happiness is a given, then it makes more room for me to find my happy way.

I’m looking for a way to live my life with passion, filled with happiness and pleasure. Moments of joy. I’ll always be looking for them, not because I don’t think I’ll find them, but because it’s a journey I wouldn’t want to be over.

If this doesn't make you smile, there's nothing I can do to help you.

but it’s 10:30 pm and I’ve recently learned that life is, in fact, a whole lot better when you’re getting adequate sleep. Far fewer bad days and meltdowns over nothing. So, I gots ta hit the pillow. I’ll be back soon. Bon nuit!

Today, we got news that Osama Bin Laden has been killed. Part of the world mourned and part of the world rejoiced.

Nearly 10 years ago, we watched in helpless terror and sadness as we got news that terrorists had used innocent victims to kill more innocent victims. Part of the world mourned and part of the world rejoiced.

We’re not so different from each other after all.

Faith, religion and belief will always be personal decisions, really, when it comes down to it. They are all merely different languages telling the same story: None of those stories preach cruelty, fear and pain. The stories strive to teach us love, compassion and forgiveness.

We’re not so different from each other after all.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

This candle is not in any one man's memory; rather, for all of humanity, in memoriam, in present and for the future. I hope that light will burn away the dark.

Seems like I just never have enough time. What with my Lenten FB fast rapidly reaching completion, I can’t help but look back and think, gosh, but I didn’t accomplish much.

I have NOT written my proposed weekly (at minimum) posts. I have not repotted the plants that are growing out of their pots in search of more hospitable accommodations. I haven’t even touched my flute case. And Wrinkly Clothes Mountain is no closer to an ironing board than I am to a million dollars (and that’s a looooong way off).

I am, however, teaching 3 yoga classes a week, in addition to trying to still fit in my 6 days of practice, 3 mornings at the pool and 3 morning runs. I say “trying” when I really mean “failing”. What has happened to my long-established morning routine? I’ve gotten it partway back, only to be waylaid by an angry shoulder, the mother of all blisters and really bad sleep debt.

Luckily, Adam’s back this weekend (hallelujah!), which is good, because I a) love him, and b) am clearly unable to operate like an adult and send myself to bed when he’s not here.

On that note, I must bid adieu, because it’s already past my pumpkin hour, which means I may wimp out of my a.m. practice… sigh…

Sittin’ @ Waves Cafe in Gastown, tapping on the iPad (how’s that for dedication? It takes effort to blog on a tablet!). I’m in Vancouver for the weekend with Adam and I’m extremely pleased to report that it is sunny, for a change. Normally, my intention to spend the weekend here jolts Mother Nature into releasing a deluge upon the city for a full 48 hours. Clearly, the curse has been lifted. You’re welcome, Vancouver.

As the title indicates, I’m a little past the halfway mark on Lent and so far, so good. I don’t even miss Facebook. Sure, I’ve missed some parts of it, like posting my gems of insight and communicating with people with whom I’ve evidently lost the ability to contact otherwise. I’ve also missed some events, because without accessing FB invites, I don’t know what’s going on.

But really, I’m enjoying my log-off. I think when I sign back in at Easter, I’m going to see if I can set it to only access my profile page. It’s reading everyone else’s statuses for aeons that sucks my life away like a vacuum kills any spider in my house. I’d like to think I can just exercise self-control, but in this one regard (and only this one), I’m a realist. We’ll see…

I have definitely gotten more sleep, done more chores and spent more quality time with mes amis. Tuesday nights are now movie nights with my neighbour & colleague extraordinaire, Gillian, and my bestie Ashley. So far, we’ve watched all 3 Twilight movies, discussed the benefits of Team Jacob versus Team Edward (I may have given my neutral stance away when I inadvertently referred to “that pack of dogs”. Oops.), drunk some lovely wine and bubbly, and eaten obscene amounts of junk food. Gillian makes The World’s Best Popcorn. Last week, she suggested we try to include at least one food item that has been grown. Wine comes from grapes, right? They grow…

So yeah, just checkin’ out the big smoke and the home of our future. We walked the entire Seawall (9 km, not counting the walk from False Creek to get there, with a stop at Hamburger Mary’s for breakfast sustenance to survive the journey) today and this traverse helped me to conclude (at about km 3), that my Pumas were indeed too small. I’ve long suffered with tight footwear, due to a lifetime of buying dance shoes and street shoes with the same fit: tight.

But now, the Pumas are in a garbage and I’m sporting my first pair of Fluevogs. The BBC boot in black, because I never buy black. Long have I coveted and long have I saved. Of course, I nearly didn’t get them, because after saving so long, actually dropping the cash seemed frivolous. It wasn’t: they look awesome and feel like it, too. Ooh.

It’s that time again and by “that time,” I mean Lent. Every year of my life since early childhood, I have given up candy, moving on to give up all sweets/desserts in more recent years (because let’s face it, I can justify nearly anything out of the candy category, e.g. “pain au chocolat is technically a breakfast food, not a dessert, so it doesn’t count…”).

This year, on Shrove Tuesday/Mardi Gras, I was all set to eat pancakes for dinner and kiss delicious treats goodbye for the next 40 days, when I read on Facebook that a friend was logging off for Lent. “Whoa! That’s crazy talk!” I said. That would be hard! Which made me think, perhaps I should do something a little more sacrificial. After all, Jesus didn’t have access to his online community for 40 days in the desert. Or something like that.

Anyway, I updated my status on Tuesday night to bid adieu until Easter and went to bed, wondering how I’d hold up. I’m kind of excited, because I waste a lot of time on FB. Don’t get me wrong, I love FB and I will be back, but I need to use it as a communication tool and not a way to procrastinate on things I don’t want to do. Because I am The World Champion of Procrastinating when I need to do something that I deem to be an unappealing use of my time (this includes all chores, tasks, goals, sleeping, etc). There are entire hours lost when I am consciously thinking to myself: “I should really log off; this isn’t even interesting,”  and yet, I sit and surf other people’s online lives while my own goes whizzing by with naught a trace. Not good, really.

So I am hoping to regain a little focus, balance and face-to-face time with all my peeps. Or you know, get sleep, which has been known to suffer at the hands of me olde laptop. We’ll see how it goes. So far, I’ve had several moments where I thought of a KILLER status update, but couldn’t let the world know. I’m sorry about that. I know everyone is just dying to know what recent titillating outlook I have to share. And yet, the world continues to turn. Instead, I’ve made homemade soup, caught up on reading and sleep and generally felt much more free. I also didn’t get to broadcast my concern for Japan in the wake of their tragic and terrifying earthquake/tsunami for all my friends to read (which I’m doing here, instead: What a terrifying scenario. All the more so for those of us sitting on a ticking time bomb of a fault-line-riding island). Instead, I look for more active ways to learn more about the situation and see what I can do to help.

As I fast, I’ll keep you posted (another goal to dedicate some new-found freedom to: being a better blogger)… That being said, I’m off to eat some chocolate, because I can.

Me & my bestie, just bench-pressing each other. As you do.

I know, I know. I suck at consistency. I don’t even know what to blame, but I do know I don’t intend to accept it all myself. I’ve been super-busy, which I know is shocking to all who know me. I don’t even know how I do it, this keeping busy. Makes me think I’m hiding from something. But what…?

Anyway, I am now a yoga teacher. For really. I’m even certified by the Yoga Alliance. Certified, not certifiable. There is a small but distinct difference and it’s a pivotal one. In the former case, I can teach yoga to the world (or however many peeps show up at my classes). In the latter, however, I would find myself in a locked and padded room. Though I must say, that prospect is somewhat appealing, in that it would help me to overcome some personal issues; namely A) I couldn’t keep quite so busy, and B) in a padded room, I think I’d be much less cowardly in headstands.

Regarding headstands, a.k.a. my Everest, you’ll be pleased to know I’m all over ’em. As long as I’m all over ’em in my living room. At the studio, I’m still chicken. So weird. There’s more stuff for me to hit & break (myself included) in my living room, and yet, I can hang out on my crown ’til the cows come home. By cows, I mostly mean Hermes, who likes to hang out when I do yoga and walk underneath all my downward-facing dogs. I’m hoping this too shall pass. Jenni says her teacher in India would always say, “Do your practice: All is coming.” She also points out he never mentioned what exactly “all” referred to, but it’s good to test out the unknown.

Not sure how to get over that, but so far, I’ve taken to giving pep talks to my anatomy: “Come on abs–you can DO this!” So far, we get pretty good until I imagine the stunning dismount I would do if I went over backwards. Which I have done, just for the record. Safely roll/somersault out of it? Nooo, I do a half-back-handspring. And yet, I am still afraid. Weird.

So, I’m one month in, and things are going pretty durned good. The constant soreness is largely gone, at least in intensity. I’m not pain-free, though. I’m trying to practice ahimsa, or the 5th, “non-harming” yama (restraint or behaviour), but that’s hard to do when your wrist has decided it hates you and will demonstrate that by producing a repetitive strain injury. Awesome.

I’m still finding the posture names tricky. Maybe we should change ’em up. I mean, they’ve been kicking around for aeons, but you know, no time like the present to be the change I want to see. Or something like that. I’m pretty sure that’s the intent of that maxim/aphorism combo. I think I might have a tough time selling the concept. I guess it’s back to the Sanskrit books…

In other news, I’m definitely becoming a master of the head stand. As long as I’m next to a wall, I am pretty much a professional head-stander. Unfortunately, I am not supposed to be next to the wall, because it’s kind of cheating. That and if I were to bail, I stand a pretty good chance of injuring or you know, breaking, my neck, because there’s nowhere to roll out…

Apparently, I’ll be teaching a class this next month. I am somewhat concerned about this prospect, as I: a) cannot remember the posture names, b) have some difficulty remembering the order of events (totally forgot the entire standing balance series in Thursday’s Mysore class), and c) don’t feel much like a yoga teacher yet. I feel like apologizing to the poor sods who wind up in my practicum classes.

Luckily, they don’t read this, so I doubt they’re worried about their impending yogic liability. I hope Jenni’s got good insurance. On that optimistic note, I’m off to bed, because Sunday class is bright and early. And extremely sweaty. It’s proven to be the sweatiest time in my life, these Sunday primary series classes. It IS damp in there.

Yeah, okay, so I have not kept up my end of the bargain. But, to be fair, your end is pretty light on the commitment side, as in, you needn’t do much at all. So, it’s kind of fair.

Plus, the reason I didn’t blog is because my arms were too darn sore to type. Seriously. Ashtanga yoga is traditionally a 6-day practice. Which means that Bay is a pretty sore little yogi.

I’ve been doing Mysore classes, which are basically self-led Primary Series, er-lie in the morning. They’re actually pretty awesome. Although, not gonna lie, it can be easy to perhaps cut yourself a little slack.

In all of my led classes, however, I am amazed by the amount of sweat one body can create. Multiply that by, oh, 18 people, and you have got yourself one very sweaty, humid and stinky room. It’s not pretty. I’m actually past being surprised at how much moisture I can produce in a class, from previously-thought-to-be-sweat-gland-free body parts, such as my shoulders.

In other news, my knees have decided they don’t like lotus position, which I used to avoid because of my bum ankle. Turns out, my ankle’s fine, but my knees react to the added pressure by preparing to launch my patella into the ether. Patella and Ether are words I have learned in YTT.

Speaking of words, I’m having a tough time learning the Sanskrit pose names. They are long, not intuitively obvious, as my stats prof would say, and they seem remarkably similar to one another. I have a plan, involving a lot of writing and rote memorization. Fun times ahead, ahoy hoy.

Off to bed. 5:45 am will be here before I know it and my hamstrings definitely need the beauty sleep…