The Rhythm of our Days

I left my glasses in the bedroom when I put Lena to sleep, so my screen is mega magnified and making me feel old. Did you know that your eyes hit their peak in your early 20s, and then decline? And did you know that for some women pregnancy can make the eyes worse? And that if you happen to get pregnant in your mid 20's, when your eyes may slowly be beginning to decline, that they may decline sharply and not quite recover? True story. For the first time in my life I actually feel I need my glasses and if I don't have them I feel fuzzy. I forgot them the other day when we went out of town and by the end of the day I was exhausted! Probably didn't help that we were at the national gallery and I was peering mole-like at paintings.

What the heck does my declining vision have to do with the rhythm of our days? Nothing whatsoever, except to point out that I have a lot of time to think about things like this.

If the standard big city rhythm is that of an african drummer pounding for an enthusiastic dancer, the rhythm in our little apartment is more like a babbling brook occasionally pushing a pebble. In particular, the last month has been molasses-like.

Between the intense snowstorm that buried everything, and a chest cold making the rounds, and no really pressing reason to leave the house- we rarely do. We try to get out for a little bit each day, longer now that everyone's chests are clear of virus. We've done the requisite snowman building, snow angels, rolling around in snow etc, but it's only fun for so long when you are 2 1/2, bundled up and can't walk because the snow is literally as deep as you are tall. For a few weeks the snow was too fluffy even for a sled! All this sounds like excuses, and maybe it is- but I intend for it to be more of a prelude into the quiet of our days. The quiet madness?

Each night we tell ourselves that we will get up earlier the next day- and most days we lazily cuddle and giggle until 8am. It's so difficult to get out from under a warm quilt and away from a warm baby to go write in a cold kitchen or do yoga. I'm always glad when I manage, but that doesn't make it any easier. We usually spend at least an hour on breakfast, taking the time to prepare a delicious and nutritious meal to share as we watch people scraping ice off their cars, fat bunchy squirrels running around, and teenagers trudging to the high school up the road.  After that, one of us tries to be productive, and this is where we've been struggling. We each work one or two days a week, so most of the time we are all here. You would think we'd get a lot done, or at least one of us would, but in fact some days it feels like neither of us gets a single thing accomplished.
Our mornings are usually for drawing, reading, tidying, baking and we try to get outside- at the very least so our poor Roscoe can get out!
Lena naps most days and that is a funny time. As she falls asleep, I have a list of all the things I'd like to do- but I know I must choose: yoga? write? clean? cook? sew? blog? study? waste time on the internet (HA)? We eat lunch all together again- often watching the same teens walking to school at the end of their lunch break. In the afternoons- more drawing, a lot of pretend play, maybe a short video or two (usually either live ballet, or some animated shorts of www.nfb.ca, OR a little game on pbs.org), sometimes a more 'official' activity. Then we start thinking about dinner, because we most often spend a chunk of time soaking baking or preparing something. We know our effort was worth it when Lena says "mmmmm, mom, you make the best ___ I've NEVER EVER SEEN!!!" or "Who needs dessert after THIS?" or "mmmm.... I just love it. It's pretty good".

Bedtime is looong- usually a lot of books read by Dad and a lot of cuddling with Mom- a lot of processing the day. It's such a great time to go over the positives and negatives throughout the day, to encourage one another to keep trying a little harder every day, to acknowledge and maybe apologize for the occasional short tempers, to firm up memories of fun and learning and love. I cherish those moments wherein we are forced to slow down, even stop, and just exist in this moment with this child- it's more effective than meditation for me! After Lena is asleep, I tiptoe out to do some of the activities I skipped during nap time- including burning my old lady eyeballs writing a blog post!

Oh well- tonight I will get to bed early because tomorrow is most definitely the day I get up at 630am to make pumpkin waffles and write. Smiley face.

On Being a Jack-of-All-Trades

I am in the midst of my yoga teacher training at Naada Yoga, in Montreal. It's a pretty incredible and thorough program, in which each subject is it's own module, and each module is taught by a specialist. It's a far cry from what is maybe more traditional, finding a single teacher or guru and learning everything from them; but I find it more appropriate for our culture of yoga.

Sometimes I find myself baffled by the sheer amount of information available on any given subject. All it takes is a few passionate people to make great headway in the research of anything. This is true of coffee, a trade I've spent the last seven years in. People dedicate themselves to the tiny little details of coffee, details that most people would find not only mundane, but insane. "What direction do you stir your bed of grounds in?" "Who cares?". When I was training baristas, everyone once in a while I would pause and think "This is just silly, isn't it?"  But it is precisely because someone cares that the overall quality of the coffee people drink improves and improves. We don't have to think about it, or read coffee magazines, because someone out there is doing that for us.
Same goes for any topic. Model trains. Light bulbs. Bicycles. Dung Beetles. Aromatherapy. Whatever.

All this to say that people can be extraordinarily specialized. And the people teaching these modules are such specialized people. For philosophy, we were taught by Dr. Mark Singleton, anatomy was taught by Dr. Baxter Bell, and asanas are taught by the owner of the yoga studio, Elizabeth Emberley.

I entered the program planning to eventually teach. Once I saw the incredible dedication, passion and focus of the faculty, I wavered- could I have this dedication, this drive? I am more jack-of-all-trades than master of one. On my bookshelf of in-progress books I have a yoga anatomy book (), a green building book(), a doula manual, a chess book (), a novel (), a book about Oscar Wilde, and Eating Animals.
How could I ever get that focused, absorb so much historical information and anatomy, and forward the ideas?

As I have continued along the course, I am realizing that maybe I am not suffering from lack of focus, and should celebrate how well-rounded my interests are. That maybe, I don't need to be an expert to teach beginners, and to share these wonderful things I am learning.  I only need to be sure that students know that, although a teacher I am also a student, that there will be limits to anyone's knowledge and that I will always try to be sure that the information I present represents the best of my knowledge. That they should always listen to their own bodies and instincts and not conform to any teachers ideas of how they should practice, and that they are always welcome to join me in the exploration of a wide variety of topics.