Liberally Conservative

I had my first Calgary haircut today. I was more than a little nervous because while I have had some fabulous stylists (hi Yames, hi Elena!!) I have also had more than my fair share of not so fabulous stylists - remember the mullet?? To be fair it is possible that they were not so bad and it was just that my hair is particularly finicky but still. No one likes a bad hair cut.

I got advice from one of my co-workers ... (I seriously think they should write a book based on all of my questions, they would make a lot of money selling to new Calgarians who possibly have the same questions and also the businesses they recommend should give a little kickback because they would be swimming in new customers. And with good reason as my girls have never steered me wrong yet. ) But I was still worried, what if her hair wasn't as temperamental as mine? (likely) what if I got lost (even more likely) and was late thereby making a bad impression? what if we had nothing to talk about and I sat there for 2.5 hours and hoped for conversational inspiration and then hated my haircut? I could go on but seeing as how I should be getting ready for my company Christmas party I won't.

However, as usual (you'd think I would get the hint and stop worrying already), my fears were groundless. I didn't get lost, Will (my new STRAIGHT stylist - this is a first) was more than fabulous and my hair is ... how did we decide to put it ... Liberally Conservative. He assures me that if I have any problems I can come back and he will do a touch up for free and that he cut just enough off so that I can go my customary 3 months before visiting him again. Plus he informed me several times that I was absolutely gorgeous, that I would be stunning at my party tonight, that I have an amazing personality to go with my super good looks, that I am generally amazing and intelligent and wonderful. If you think his flurry of compliments earned him a nice tip you would be right. But I honestly think he was being genuine and it was nice to feel pampered and appreciated for a couple of hours.

Suddenly (like magic) I float

Apparently the trick to making something part of your routine is to do it daily for a minimum of 28 days. You have to really concentrate for the first little while but then suddenly like magic it's old hat. One of the things I want to make part of my daily life again is writing - here, in my journal, somewhere, just writing. Unfortunately with the very long list of things I want to change and the equally long list of things that are changing without my consent writing has been pushed to the back of the line. Maybe next month I keep telling myself. And the days go by and I don't write and it gets easier and easier. But I feel as though by shoving the writer in me into a dark corner I am not being entirely true to myself. So here I go, attempting to begin again, to find the words that I have been meaning to say.

I went to my second Calgary yoga class today. I took yoga for 2 years in Edmonton with my dad but this class is very different. For one thing, it is just me. But then everything in Calgary is pretty much just me at the moment. So it is kind of weird to not go with my dad and not see the same people that I saw every Monday, and not have it be my old instructor. And it has been almost 6 months since my last class so I feel very rusty and out of practice ... for the first time I feel like I am at the weak link in the class. Everyone else seems more flexible, more focused, more everything. Which I shouldn't even be thinking about because part of the mentality of yoga is to honor your own body, to listen to your own body, to accept your own body. I am especially not very good at the last one. I am sure all that I had learned in my previous practices will come back to me (apparently I have very good muscle memory) and my body will begin to stretch out once again and my mind will find focus and until that point I will just do my best to block out the white noise from the rest of my week.

One of the things I love about yoga, or I guess that I love about myself in yoga practice is that at some point the rest of the world just melts away. It doesn't matter that there is a work crisis that I will have to deal with on Monday, it doesn't matter that I got caught up in the crisis and left work late and was almost late for class, it doesn't matter that I have 4 million things to do before I head home for Christmas and only 7 more days to do them in, it doesn't matter that I am worried that I am going to be lonely with my one new very good friend in New Zealand for a month ... all that matters is my breathing and my body ... all that I have to concentrate on is being strong and breathing deep and listening to my inner rhythm. All I have to do is be. Be present in the moment, in the stretch (or asana), in myself. And I float. When it has been a particularly good class I float for hours after and life is good and I am at peace.

I didn't think I would miss yoga as much as I did and I am very excited to have found a class that fits into my schedule and that is challenging for me. I was a little worried that it was too challenging but my instructor assures me that while there are a few areas that are definitely tight and need tweaking my practice is strong and I should do just fine. It seems like a bit of a younger crowd and the studio is warm and inviting and the other people who take the class seem very nice. So maybe I might even meet a few people.

Outside of my comfort zone ...

People keep asking me why I moved away. And it's not an easy question to answer. There are so many answers and all of them feel like half-truths.

I guess in its simplest form the truth is this: I moved because some voice deep inside told me that I had to. I moved to gain some distance and perspective, to carve MY life for MYself, to take a job opportunity that had presented itself. But mostly I moved because I couldn't not move. Or I couldn't stay where I was. However you want to put it.

People keep telling me that I am so brave to have moved. To have come to a strange city where I really know no one. To have come by myself, for myself, with only myself to rely on. That I am brave and adventurous to be exploring the city, finding the gyms and the stores and the classes and the places (and hopefully eventually the friends) that I want in my daily life. Most days it doesn't feel brave at all. Some days it feels like I ran away from a lot of problems I didn't want to deal with and I am not sure where the bravery is in that. I ran to a better and safer and healthier place but I still ran. I'm changing myself but I'm not changing the realities I left behind. Is there really bravery to be found here?

I guess the fact that I am aware that there are still problems from my past to be faced counts for something. I am gathering strength to deal with them when they rear their ugly heads as I am sure they will. I am gathering happiness and positive moments and inner peace. And when the time comes I will deal the best way I know how. And I will pick up my pieces and move forward with what is left when the time comes.

One of the things BW always said to me was that I had to push myself, I had to live outside of my comfort zone, I had to try as hard as I could and then I had to try a little bit harder than that. Not because I am not good enough the way that I am but because I deserve more than I could ever imagine. I think those words (or at least my paraphrase of his words) will be with me forever. I hear them at the gym when I feel too tired to run another minute or do another set or try a harder exercise. I hear them every morning when I get up and face another day on my own. I hear them when I am too scared to try and find a new place or meet a new person or try something new. Those words are like a battering ram that chip away at my inhibitions and make me into a better person. They are my mantra, my driving force, my will to keep growing and changing one day at a time.

A New Beginning

One of my goals, now that I have regular internet access that is not work based, is to start writing here again. Although now that I have stopped for a while, and to be truthful was never really good at updating almost the whole year I lived at home ... well the idea of writing here again seems a little daunting. How to express myself, what to share, how to capture exactly what I am feeling and thinking and doing. I know that with practice the skills of self expression will come back, will improve. I guess I just have to accept (and ask you to accept) that this may be little more than a laundry list as I get the hang of things again. Assuming I ever had the hang of things in the first place. But if writing here (anywhere) is as important to me as it seems to be I have to let go of the fear and just breathe and let it all out.
And yes, I have goals here. And to-do lists that reach as far as next Christmas and dreams that stretch further than I can imagine right now. I am slowly building a life for myself here. More slowly than I would like some days but for the most part I am happy and content. So happy and content that I am almost not sure it is actually me living my life. Things are not perfect by any means, and there are moments of intense homesickness but there are also moments of feeling like this is exactly where I should be, this is what I should be doing, this is who I should be becoming. So while my moving away from everything and everyone I have ever loved has been a very big ending, in many ways it has been an even bigger beginning.