A Life Less Ordinary

For years now, I've wanted to do something that truly mattered, counted towards a greater good and changed people's lives for the better. Various 'reasons' prevented me from ever taking the plunge to say become a counsellor, or train as a yoga teacher though I did get attuned to Reiki while travelling a few years ago. But I never did anything with it and I realise now that the only thing preventing me from doing more with acquired gifts like this was my inability to just do it.

So in fact I, am the only thing standing in the way of progress. It's a baffling and unsettling discovery and yet utterly joyous. Such a simple solution in that all I have to do is take that first step. I don't have to do it all at once either. I could tear bits off the plan and tackle them individually - at appropriate times where economics don't dictate against this type of innovation.

Coming to Canada was, I thought the first step. I had hoped to set up a Reiki clinic but during a meditation group discussion I had joined to tap into my intuitive self - and become a better healer, I made a stark discovery. For all my good intentions I did not come from a long line of Japanese Senseis. How then could I really know what happens to all that life force energy being channeled through me after it's done its job? I couldn't, was the unfortunate conclusion.

Further, I was horrified to discover that many Reiki practitioners have been known to die from the very diseases they spend their lives helping to cure. Not really the fate I had in mind.

Instead I turned to the material world again and took a role at a PR agency, where I enjoy a great deal of autonomy and build daily my industry skills. However, thoughts of Eastern spiritualism keep nudging me. The result is that I am giving serious thought to training as a yoga teacher and then actually doing something with that skill.

Meditation continues to not only fascinate but also fulfil. I find myself chanting and flicking through Yoga journals and laughing at the pictures. There is no need to lose my sense of humour over it .

That isn't to say that I don't consider the job I have right now a great opportunity - I do. I just wonder if it is in fact what I came here to do, given I am back in spiritual search mode so soon.

I guess when the psychic medium I visited for a giggle last year told me that I was being divinely guided towards a life less ordinary - she wasn't messing around.

The thing I struggle with most is balancing the material and the spiritual - this is the greatest blocker - or is this just a case of mind over matter? However, Yoga is no good if I can't pay the bills so I need to be strategic about it. Well it's a start.

I've realised recently the truth in the phrase "be careful what you wish for". I think I get it. Now all I need to figure out is, how brave am I feeling?

Not quite Niagara-on-the-Lake

This weekend, my husband took me to a food festival in his childhood hometown . Being a bit of a foodie I was very excited to experience some new fare, be introduced to a new culinary experience. Visions of checkered table cloths, hand pressed cider, plump organic vegetables tumbling out of wicker baskets came to mind. Excitement heightened when I further discovered it was by a waterfront.

With the sun shining, the whole day ahead of us and promises of fairground rides, artisan tents and food glorious food - I couldn't be more excited. I could hear the reassuring thumping of the rhythm section of a band playing in the distance. There was live music too! This is what I'm talking about.

As we got closer I started catching glimpses of crowds - large large crowds. Not big crowds but crowds of big people. It occured to me to ask my husband what the name of this festival was. In his infinite wisdom, my husband had put strategy around getting us to a WING festival. Wings, as in the things that are grown in petri dished by the likes of KFC, dropped into boiling fat and covered in monosodium glutomate. The kinds of wings you'd expect to see a pack of teenage boys with crotches to their knees eating, out of soggy cardboard boxes sitting in a Toyota Corolla.

There were more perms, tattoos and mullets than a back street dockers pub in 1970s Liverpool. For a moment I thought we'd walked onto the set of The Goonies. Still, it was sunny.

To be fair it was my husband's first time too, he wasn't to know and not to be too precious, it was kind of fun in a 12 Monkeys sort of way. So this was my husband's heritatge. Ok. Fair enough. In sickness and in health and all that malarkey. And then I watched in horror as he devoured half a pound of hot chicken wings like he'd just been released from a Japanese prisoner of war camp.

You think you know someone.

The Alchemist

Something very strange is happening, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to explain it but I'll give it a shot. It's partly like trying to remember a dream that dissolves as fast as you can wake up; disappearing like an effervescent tablet in water right before your mind's eye. That is my problem at the moment - I am unable to properly capture the thought long enough to explain it.

On the other hand it could just be a circle that hasn't quite closed. It all has to do with the realization that I don't feel the need to run away any more. To put context around this, I've come to the irritating conclusion that the more I've run, the further away I've been getting from an answer, the secret. To what? Well to finding peace of mind, happiness if you will - no that's too strong a word - contentedness, yes - that's far more achievable.

Trouble is this realization isn't much use when I'm 5000 miles from where I started. I'm talking geographically. I hate to say it but I'm obsessed again by the idea of going home to the UK. The difference this time is that I'm ready to commit to a long term relationship - with myself. You know accept things as they are and as they will always be.

The decision to come to Canada was made in 30 seconds, between a sip of wine and a flick of the wrist. Just like that. I kid you not. I put no more thought into it than that. Then it just became a game. I recently made the connection between my habit of taking serious life decisions based on little more than a whim to having lost my mum at a vulnerable age - not yet an adult but no longer a child, I was in that twilight zone where people don't really know whether to adopt you or put you to work.

As a result my life can be evaluated in 2 year cycles. No job or relationship ever made it past the 2 year itch until recently. And now I just don't have that luxury of turning on a dime, for lots of reasons but namely because moving here, much to my surprise was actually a gargantuan task which will not be easily undone.

But undone it will be. Except this time, I'm finally going to be strategic, you know, serious about something that matters.
I think what I'm trying to say is that I've realized that the grass is not greener because it' s not about the grass it's about you and your relationship with yourself. None of these crazy escapades ever made me happier, or more to the point brought my mum back. Finally, I get it.

Guess, I'm finally on my way to finding peace of mind though I'm not there yet. And with that the thought floats away and I find myself just living. Is this what acceptance feels like?

Cut it Out

Slowly but Shirley I'm discovering , in this brave new world, the shortcuts to life. Yes - that's right, skipping over the eye wateringly dreary parts and fast forwarding to the European strength juicy bits. I've started small.

For instance, I have no need for the crowds at Union Station now that I've found a saucy little door to the trains on Station Road (off York). Result! Like the Scarlett Pimpernel, you will never see me but somehow I still get home. In the spirit of Social Media, I want to share this tip de.li.cious...ly.

My next discovery will likely get me booted off the Women's Institute's Christmas card list but it's too clever to save for posterity: Avoid the logistics of Jim Jam tantrum time - the screaming, pooping and crying by not "being there". Get home just when the nipper is ready for a story and generously offer to take over. Here's the science - by spending that 'just in the door' time on storytelling duty you can seamlessly avoid the "ball & chain" game of - Anger: Real or Residual? then listen out for the hockey to start and only then join the party.

Finally avoid the utterly banal practice of drawing curtains by taking longer to brush your teeth.

You're welcome.