No Worries

Today, I swam for the first time in bout 8 months. It was in a warm water pool dubbed “therapeutic” and shit man at 89 degrees it was balmy AS. First time I think I can say it was a pool that was TOO hot. But it felt so good to move in the water.  My ass hurts my legs hurt I am so anxious in my mind that I’m craving the physical release from exercise and it’s hard. I swam easy, I still need to move.

It brought me back to Vancouver and I miss it so much.

I went to a horse therapy farm on Tuesday round Caledon and it was also really cool. Animals have such an intuition for healing.  The horses read my energy incredibly; one horse was even reiki-gifted and honestly, wonky yogi tingz aside- when I put my hands on his strong coat, I feltthatshithard thatswhatshesaid.

There’s such merit in things we can’t put into words but can feel. Like the water silencing the world and moving weightlessly through it. 

Like stepping meditatively one foot at a time up a mountain.  Nature giving mind a rest from pitter patter of constant thoughts. 

Like connecting with people and laughing about farts, Mitch Hedberg jokes, and cats that have been shaved like a lion post-vet named Rhombus from math-loving owners.  

Like the hashtag #my4wordobituary



Like the feeling after a run, a trail run where you hop over tree trunks and boulders. Like really “getting” what someone is telling you about their experiences, just like, totally vining with their expression. 

Like making a beautiful meal out of backyard veggies, or foraged goods from the forest.  Like feeling the powerful magestic brilliance of a horse under my small palm, stroking its shiny coat. So powerful but gentle.  

My heart is aching for nature and I feel so pulled to Vancouver Island. I know that wherever I go, I take myself with me. I know I’m not healed yet. But I also know that Toronto noise and culture is not for me and I’m sick from it.

Universe, show me a sigh plzandthankyou.

2014 wishiwasoutwest

This is “plantain tea” the plant grows everywhere and it’s good for tummy issues. Mami likes👌🏻

Herrow

First blog post, more of a blog to write to myself than anything else.  Thoughts tend to get disorganized in my mind, so here’s a way for me to try to express myself systematically, and remember things I don’t want to forget.

Currently, my life is being consumed by an athletic injury.  Being plagued by impatience and frustrated beyond words sparks a vicious cycle of anger-hoplelessness-and spiralling depression.  Frankly, I feel robbed of my identity.  Like, if you’ve ever had your house broken into, you know that feeling where you don’t feel safe in your room or whatever, and your personal space is tainted and not yours, I feel that way with myself.  I get occasional sparks of recognition, especially brought on when I’m around others who reflect me, but that one-on-one interaction of me and nature, flying freely and effortlessly (yeah that’s a sick joke) down a trail is lost.  Lost is a good word for describing my place right now. That and fuck. I say fuck a lot these days.  Dirty mouth, frustrated.

This is kinda cool, I’m digging it.  Blogs piss me off sometimes, apart from my good friend Cheryl’s at http://happyisthenewhealthy.com/ (who is really a wicked role model for anyone who wants to live a good life, yeah I’ll say that boldly and broadly-she’s rad).  But I figured this will be a good way for me to think things out and deal with my injury.  I am eagerly anticipating the healed day when I will be able to train and become a strong, self-driven and self-competitive athlete so I can realize my potential and push my body, see just how far I can go and be fucking free.

 

More to come….that’s what she said.

“Every wall is a door” – Ralph Waldo Emerson