hu-hooooo

As Husband pulled into the garage I was waiting, dog leads in my hand.

'The girls have eaten, they need to get in the bath and I need to take the dogs for a walk.'

It had been a long day at home - Frieda has tonsillitis and I have SO MUCH work.

My multi-tasking skills are pretty damn hot, but trying to code HTML while mediating sibling squabbles and work through the rider for South Africa's most famous drag queen proved just a little too diverse for me yesterday ....

The dogs and I set off at a fast trot. It was an unusually still evening and I enjoyed the neighbourhood sounds floating past us - ice tinkling in sundowners, baths running, dinners cooking - I enjoyed not being part of any of that (even the drinks!), moving quickly through the cool air.

Not being encumbered with small people we walked faster and further than usual, finding ourselves in streets and cul-de-sacs I'd not walked through before, and being later than the usual dog-walking set, we were alone.

Or so I thought.

Hu-hoooo.

An owl, somewhere close.

I slowed and scanned around the growing dusk, the trees and bushes strangely in sharper relief as the light faded.

Hu - hoooo.

Of course he'd spotted us before we saw him. A-perch a branch only just above my head we stared at each other for a long while, totally motionless and relaxed, then I left him to his evening hunting and walked on.

It was getting darker as we headed home. The shady pathways we'd come on felt closer and more mysterious now, the dogs stayed close, all of us breathing hard.
Those with some sense kept their mouths closed as the clouds of spring midges gathered. The dogs sneezed and coughed.

Approaching home I could see darkness in the upstairs windows, the girls weren't in the bath yet. Half an hour before that would have infuriated me, now it was totally fine.

We burst in the door in a gust of crisp air and renewed good humour, and smothered them in hugs and laughter.

A necessary walk. Thank you owl. Thank you dogs.

*African Eagle Owl pic from flickr*

bolshie

I've been a bit bolshie of late. Maybe it's a sign I'm approaching 40 (in a couple of years that is ...). I'm not taking shit, I'm not suffering fools and I kinda want things to run my way.

I'm not always this assertive, I've examined my conscious and I'm okay with having a period of self-ism - different to selfishness I think.

My yoga teacher tried to change the class times in a way which wouldn't suit me (and a lot of other participants turns out), but I was the one who got vocal in class and on email, until she changed the times back and asked in class, with a bit of an edge, if I was 'happy now?'
Yes thanks.

Socially I had a bit of a disagreement with someone I've known for years, there were others in the room who backed me so I'm confident I was in the right, but I was a little taken aback by my vehemence. I don't think I'll be seeing as much of him in the future.
That's okay.

At the supermarket the other day the cashier didn't ring through a bit of cheese, putting it straight into my shopping bag. I realised she wouldn't be held accountable for it and the only person who'd run a loss was (insert name of fat cat who owns supermarket chain to which I've paid thousands over the years), so I said nothing, paid for the rest of the items and left.
Don't mind if I do.

We no longer have a lift club to school and although there are other parents wanting to get involved with sharing the driving I've been hesitant about making an arrangement.
I don't feel like being dependent on someone else's time frame. Rushing to meet them or waiting when they're late. I quite feel like being late myself without having to apologise. Even it means more driving.
Am I mad?

It's a busy time. My days are full to the brim. I think my bolshie-ness comes from a place of wanting, needing, to make things as easy and pleasant for myself as possible (free cheese is pleasant right?). I don't want to do that to anyone else's detriment of course (he can afford to lose some cheese), but I'm prepared to get a little shirty to have things my way.
I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing.
Sometimes.

holding the space

A new, hippie-ish, phrase I've heard a lot recently, bit it's growing on me.

I had an amazing yoga class last night. I suspect that listening to people go on and on about how much they love their sport must be up there with as boring as listening to their dreams, but nevertheless yoga last night was inspiring and therapeutic and cleansing and just ... amazing.

One thing I love about yoga is what a solitary pursuit it is. My teacher likes to say that no matter how large or small the class, it's just you and your mat, and what you make of it.
The space to think, or not to think, is limitless, and what I found myself thinking about as I sweated it out through the movements last night was another solitary space I've been occupying recently.

I bought myself a stand-up paddle board a couple of months back, to punt around the lake and work the core and have a water sport all of my own, and I love it. On Sunday I went out, exploring further from home than I've done before, and found myself alone. So rare.
Alone but for a million coots, a couple of hundred ducks, a handful of pelicans, jumping fish, sail boats in the distance, a lone canoeist arcing through the water in front of me. Glassy water and perfect sun on my shoulders. Alone and chanting, in my head, 'hold this space, hold this space, hold this space, hold this space because you know you'll need it.'
But I also needed to focus on cutting my paddle through the water, 'don't drop it, don't drop it, don't drop it', the growing ache in my shin muscles (yup, who knew one had shin muscles right?), looking out for patches of dense water weed, and as with most things the magic got lost a little in the detail.
I came home happy and tired, but wishing I could have crystallized the feeling, caught it in amber to hang round my heart.

And then during yoga last night I did. I revisited the water, and in complete clarity brought up all the things I'd  experienced on Sunday afternoon - the smell of the water, the sounds of the water birds, the wind whistling through my paddle, the impenetrable mass of the lake, the freedom and calm, completely without concerns about falling in.
While my body exerted itself in other ways my mind floated like a bubble over the surface of the water, I found the space was still there, and I held it.
I hold it still.

lists of 5: 5 reasons I'm already feeling better.

- a big weep, a couple actually
- yoga this morning
- her 3 hour nap
- smoked salmon for dinner
and most preciously,
- so much warmth, love and support from friends far and near ... thank you.

These are the things which have me feeling better today.

a happy hour

Ha! I wrote almost this exact post four years ago!

This time I didn't feel the desire to cry, but my first yoga class in years felt damn, damn fine. This class won't be the workout I'd come to love and value with my previous teacher, but it was just as strong a reminder of why I love yoga and the s-t-r-e-e-e-e-e-e-t-c-h.

Add to that a beautiful 1930's designed wooden floored room with big sash windows open to the sounds and smell of the ocean, a somewhat dour but gentle and insightful Afrikaans instructor and a classmate who jingles ever so subtly with every position change, despite not wearing any visible bells, and what's not to love right?

Again I was thrilled to discover my body remembered what to do, and his only critique was that I leaned forward out of pose too often.
'Stop looking to the future while you're here,' he said, 'stay in the moment and forget whatever it is you need to do after class.'

I can dig that.

welcome back, me

Deep, long sigh of satisfied satisfaction....

I had my first Yogafit class of 2009 this evening, in fact my first since I was 6 months pregnant and transitioned to the much more low-key ante-natal yoga for the last few months. 

And omg, it was sublime.

As the class started, with the soft music and our wonderful teacher's soothing tone starting us off on breathing exercises, I actually almost had a little cry.

It felt so good to be there, like I was climbing back inside my own head, and in that calm and contemplative space I found a part of myself I hadn't felt since Frieda was born. Hello, me. Where you been girl? And hey wow, I'm glad you're still in there.

And it seems, so too were some of my core muscles! Despite 18 months of only ever doing a few sessions myself, my body remembered so much, was still able to do so much. And although I may be a stiff and aching wreck tomorrow (bring it on!), I've come home confident that I am still that lean, mean yoga machine. Just well cushioned that's all.