8.07.2020

August Feels Like

August feels like -
             - the beginning of the end
like light starting to slant
days waning, and life slowing


August feels like -
             - nights gathering crisp air
like fires burning
                      down
                              to
                                 embers
heat fading, and night building


August feels like -
             - bags packed and ready to go
like grabbing a sweater as you leave
final chapter starting, a fresh beginning




(I wrote this back in March, in one of the long days of quarantine when it felt like August would never arrive. How much is different, how much is the same.)

7.31.2020

July

The doings and nothings of July...






Created a bubble family, to pair with. Felt so good to see people! For real, talking laughing and just being together. 







Lots and lots of long walks outdoors. Have a great 4.5-5mile loop I try to do once a week.














First class back just the other day... masked up, distanced, low max... but back. It felt weird and good, and hopefully so much more coming in the next month.

Here's to new normals.

7.07.2020

Summer Storms - An Angry One

We were supposed to leave today, originally for a few weeks of adventuring, seeing family and friends, exploring Maine and Montreal. Most of that was cancelled ages ago. Now is obviously not the time to discover a new city. But we had thought until very recently that we'd still at least get to see my parents and sibling. A change of scenery, some family time. That was not to be either.

I was sitting on my couch earlier listening to a summer thunderstorm approach, just feeling inside, for all intents and purposes, the same as the intense winds and splatters of rain that were rolling in with the storm. That combine with the feeling of all the now empty days ahead on my calendar.

I found a new therapist, someone much more suited to me then the one I found just over two years ago, and unceremoniously dumped 9 (?) months ago. I've already poured out some of my anger and frustration over the pandemic and all its taken. There's so much to say and go over, a lifetime of things to unpack so much more then 3 months of loss, and I feel like I'll need years to talk about it all. So maybe I'll save the history for her, and come here with my anger at every single person I see that isn't wearing a mask, in their gatherings by the dozens, because so many of us have changed everything, and they can't seem to deal with a square of fucking fabric to show a little consideration to their fellow man. God Bless, Motherfucking America.

Let me not beat around the bush here: if you are a science-denying dick who can't wear a mask or not get together to drink cases of beer with your 20 best friends, then you are the reason I can't see my family right now, and I ask you to kindly fuck off. Truly.

Humanity feels like a failed experiment. And I'm not handling it well. I'm angry, and also I'm just sad. I thought we were better then this, and we're clearly just not.

7.03.2020

Goodbyes


One of the first things that I did when we moved to Colorado was find a yoga studio. I needed that part of my life to handle all the stresses that came with the move, and since I didn't have a job, I needed a way to build that community. That's what I found in iThrive. An absolutely beautiful studio, warm and welcoming, and people to match. If you've seen my yoga pictures over the past few years, you've seen the beautiful windows and amazing wave wall of this space.


I loved the space so much, that I chose to do my teacher training there. It was where I became a yoga teacher, where I did a good part of my teaching, and where I found my favorite class. 

And last Friday, I met one Addison - of my good friends, and fellow teachers there - and we (at an appropriate social distance), said goodbye to our home away from home.



One last time, we set up our mats, and enjoyed a practice. We looked at the mountain view, took a few pictures, and then walked out one final time. The Denver area has lost a lot of studios during this time of pandemic and upheaval. In the long run, that may be a good thing, churning out stronger, larger individual communities. But none of that matters right now, because my sanctuary is no more.


I know I will be okay. My yoga is still there for me, even if this particular space is not. The owner is committed to our community, and is looking for ways to keep us practicing together still, both on and off the mat. I will rebuild my teachings in new an wonderful ways. But on Friday, I grieved.