Atonement (as best I can)

Ok, I've had my say and now, inadequate as an account from me is likely to be, I would like to give airtime to the other side of the story - the good side (as I understand it) because for every mistake there must be a learning and an appreciation.

It begins and ends with my husband.  He has only ever wanted my happiness and has supported everything I tried, failed and re-tried to do here to achieve that.  I cannot and do not for one minute devalue what he has done. Recently we did finally discuss and agreed on the difference between needs and wants and how very subjective those things are.  I will forever be thankful for what he is doing to enable a return to the mothership as a collective.

I am proud and honoured that my daughter is not a stranger to her grandparents; that they have helped shape who she is and will grow up to be, playing as they did, two of the lead roles in her most formative years.  This is not something she will ever make up for with her equivalent family in Madrid - but I do not regret this.  In life there are often difficult choices.  This was one of mine.  Spending potentially the rest of our lives out of Canada is my husband's and for this it will take many reincarnations before my gratitude outweights the need to atone.

Mistakes, I've made a few...

Finally I get to talk openly not only about the fact that I will be returning to the UK before the Ontario snow melts but also about having wanted to go home for so long it had started to physically hurt. Home is London, England.

Lon-don; light of my life, fire of my loins...well maybe not quite that special but definitely so much more special than I ever gave it credit for before moving to 'The Tundra'.

When the idea of coming to Canada emerged, and I really can’t remember how or when exactly that was, I do however remember embracing it with the enthusiasm and openness of a jolly and adventurous type - the person I am but haven't been in contact with since landing here on October 2nd, 2007 (I believe she is still somewhere in the customs hall of Pearson Airport). I saw it as an opportunity to give my daughter something precious - family - extended at that, given that I'm the only Conde left in the UK. But I realise now that one Conde is more than enough and besides - define Family. Define life. Note to self - it's very very subjective.

Did I fail to do the proper research into what moving continents would entail? Yes, I did. Guilty as charged and caught bang to rights. Certainly in that sense I got what I deserved. That's karma for you. And how. And for so much more than just failing to carry out a couple of background searches but I have been duly spanked and more determined than ever to make up for lost time.

Had I really investigated the move I might have anticipated the crippling loneliness of knowing no-one, the perpetual boredom of suburban life and the cultural malnutrition of smallville. See, for someone who had the Victoria & Albert Museum on her doorstep - the Old Post House in Oakville was not really going to cut it for something to do on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Result: the almost complete loss of social graces and will to live. The 'idyll' of a house on a tree-lined street with a drive and a backyard turned into nothing more than an emotional prison with an anti-recreation yard in which to rock back and forth like a caged animal which I have to admit I found myself doing on more than one occasion.

I should have looked into the possible outcomes of this move but I didn't, but to be honest had I done so and consequently seen what it was going to be like (e.g. stupidly cold country, moving to the isolation of the back of beyond and zero career prospects)... well, let's say not only would I not have come I would have taken Canada off my Christmas card list altogether.

I know there are some who will think me a gargantuan and selfish flake but I beg to differ and ultimately I've suffered enough: I don't care what anyone thinks.

I didn't expect the transition to be a walk in the park - I also didn't expect it to be a vertical hike up the K2 either. In the end, I would say coming to smalltown Canada turned out to be a bit like childbirth in that had I'd known how painful it was all going to be, I wouldn't have dared.

So fast forward to the moment I find myself in an absurd Stepford Wife situation (without the social circle) trapped in a nightmarish cycle of waking up alone, going to bed alone and spending pretty much every minute in-between....that's right alone, I do eventually prise myself out of the jaws of the black dog and set about trying to make the best of an abysmal situation. Not easy. But I decide to find a job and then I get a job, - but we all know what happens there. When you're heart isn't in it - it's going to show and it did.

So now, mutually resentful, my marriage hanging on by a thread's thread, I'm also mad and desperate when I find Yoga...or Yoga finds me. You know the rest. I found myself in the journey that is Yoga and realised - nothing is going to change my world but I first need to make it a world I want to remain unchanged.

As I cogitate over the last 2 plus years here, I do need to call out a few diamonds that kept the path of sanity visible. My mother in law - a true friend; my daughter - my best friend; my editor pal - the soul of discreet compassion - a kindred spirit. I want to also say my husband but I last saw him on the banks of the Mekong River and I'm hoping to bump into him again in the near future - though I do tip my hat at the guy who is standing in for him for persevering - I know it has not been easy.

And now, as is so wisely provided in the world of retail, I would like a refund please.

And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas...

...if only Canada were so lucky.

Let me step away for a moment now from the world of mystical union a.k.a Yoga; While it plays a very important part in my search for enlightenment (of which a long and winding road remains) I must now turn my attentions to the very un-Zen world of Christmas shopping for it is that time of year again and the thought of what to get certain family members is nibbling away at my sleep credit.

There are in this world 3 types of people to buy presents for. One: the vapid kind who are overjoyed to the point of nervous collapse at receiving a home baked cookie they will never eat, definitely re-gift and spend the rest of the year silently berating you for it. Two: the sergeant major who starts telling you in January what they like in a way that is obvious they mean for you to buy it for them at Christmas. These people tend to have everything already and you will never ever impress them so don't beat yourself up trying to surprise them because they won't appreciate it, they will simply conclude that you weren't listening and three: angels - the people in your life whose efforts and presence you don't validate anywhere near enough during the year and for whom a present must now represent that recognition you didn't give. So, no pressure.

These invariably are the hardest to buy for. I have at present 2 angels. My mother in law and yes....I have to admit it...my long suffering husband who is this year giving me the most valuable gift of a glimpse at repatriation - of which more later when a clearer picture has formed or not as the case may be.

So the word for today is generosity. I am off to find a gift that best represents my appreciation for these guys. I may be some time. Luckily this year I am not limited to scouring main street/high street name shops in just the one mall as I have become a highway driver extraordinaire and can now allow myself the choice of scouring the same shops in many different malls.

If they made universal ski passes or gift cards for Ontario pubs then I'd be sorted for a present for the other half. Perhaps I could get him a DIY chip that is surgically implanted and transforms sausage-fingered destroyer of all man-made things into Uber repair king...no wait that would be a present for me. So you see, I'm a little at a loss. Must think fast as time is running out. Nothing will ever really represent my gratitude for everything my mother in law has done for me these past two years...it's almost pointless but I will try.

Me? well since you ask ;) - I need a new cistern for the ensuite bathroom as the toilet leaks and it's driving me insane plus new windscreen wipers as I ripped the rubber off one in an attempt to pull it free from the frozen glass beneath it this morning. Thankfully this is the last Canadian winter for me and THAT my dears is the only present I need.

Don't Stand So Close to Me

Imagine my relief last night at yoga school when before starting the anatomy test, which I was very much looking forward to getting out of the way, the studio director spent 45 minutes explaining to us that one of our fellow yogis had been put on suspension pending further investigation. 

I didn't need to know the background to this situation as I have been living it 3 times a week.  The suspendee in question is only one of two men taking this course, the rest comprising 15 women and the remaining man is an absolute diamond geezer.   After unsuspectingly pairing up with said stain of a person and being inappropriately manhandled for the best part of 3 hours, I decided that would be the one and only time I would have anything to do with him.  In retrospect I ought to have voiced my concerns and saved half a dozen other women from the same degradation.  At the very least I should have kicked him in the brick. 

Yoga is a very precise exercise which benefits the practitioner more if poses are properly aligned.  For this it is sometimes necessary to physically manipulate or adjust the person while in the pose in order that person extract from the posture everything it has to offer the mind and body.   Verbal cues are good and I appreciate them too but to be fair I like as much silence as possible during yoga practice as it's the meditative quality that sets it apart from other physical therapy.  And then there are those times when words simply don't make sense...melt the back of your heart to your thighs...I said what?  So of course - by all means prod.

It is very important then, to adjust but equally important to respect the rules of boundary and emotional space when doing so.  Here are a couple of rules of engagement - our code of ethics if you will:  Never adjust from the front; never touch the fleshy parts of the body and use as few appendages as possible when doing so e.g. heels of hands or fingers suffice.  You catch my drift.  So when you have a man pushing his gonads into your neck while adjusting you in triangle, you are free to leave because believe me this is not yoga.

This was common practice for the blokey who is now sitting at home waiting for sentencing - in denial I might add and very very defiant.  Hmnnn...I thought yoga was about truthfulness and non-violence.  Mahatma Gandhi he ain't! (nor am I but he's less!)

If that were not bad enough I've witnessed full hand placement on waist and chest areas - way too close for comfort.  He refers to chest as the boob area and seat bones as the ass.  Not being funny but do you want one slap or two?  two probably, the dirty dog.

And if that were not unsavoury enough - you really don't want to hear his locker-room talk.  In short, the man is a slimeball.  There to break boundaries not respect them and I for one feel he has been taking liberties of the sexual harrassment kind.  Again, I blame myself for not barking at the moron from the start but I was in a yoga frame of mind and wished to give him the benefit of the miniscule doubt.  Truthfulness is also about honest communication and assertiveness - I failed my fellow women but I have no intention of letting them down twice.

Now we are faced with a situation where we, as a group need to either stage an intervention with the intention of allowing him back into the circle of trust or banish him forever.  I will vote for banishment delivered with a few nuggets of advice.  I will spare you the details as to what my words of wisdom would be.  I'm trying to practice the virtue of non-violence and I'd get a big fat E minus if I let rip now but off and fuck would probably be in there somewhere.  Wanker and piss ant too.

I asked my husband (who would travel the world the long way round, on foot, just to prove me wrong) whether a man could be that unaware.  After long deliberation, because to conceed too quickly would be to lose his place on the leader's board, he admitted that in all honestly a man knows when he is flirting, being obscene and most definitely knows when he is touching women inappropriately.  Of course and that settles it.

In short he was the creepiest thing that ever slid into a place of karmic balance and until he takes responsibility for his actions there is no room for slugs like him anywhere really.  I will give him this - he can clear a room in less than 60 seconds.  Perhaps he should work for the fire department as the world's first human smoke alarm and put that skill to good use for a change.

Oh Crystal Ball Tell Me Life is Beautiful

I've been sleeping extraordinarily well recently.  I attribute the ability to do something that on the outside seemingly requires little to no effort but which has in the past totally eluded me, to yoga and meditation.  That and the comfort of finally having secure knowledge of what the future holds (of which more at a later date).   That said, while I have been sleeping as deeply as if Brunhilda had put a spell on me, I have also been dreaming.   I can remember only snippets which I've been trying to piece together in order that I might know what it is my subconscious thoughts have been trying to tell me. 

First of course, I have to get past the plain odd stuff, remnants of the day, like bearded ladies and melting stairs.  I've had a lot of snakes visit me but I'm beginning to understand what they stand for: transformation - the shedding of the old self. I know what this is alluding to.  I agree and embrace this change in me, though why it has to be represented by my most dreaded phobia and not Nathan Followil, drummer for the Kings of Leon is an injustice I will just have to live with.  It's perverse. Or rather it's not perverse enough.

I've spent too much time setting this up damn it.  The dream has evaporated.  I'll have to get back to you.

On another esoteric subject I read my Tarot cards the other day. Yes, I do have way too much time on my hands but I am using it very wisely I promise you outside of the odd eccentricity.  It always amazed me how accurate the cards can be - though I'm a long way from knowing how to read them like a true professional, I do instantly get a picture.  I got all the cards you sort of don't want to get like Death and the Devil but thankfully (much like the snake in my dreams) they all refer to a change, a rebirth that can only occur with the shedding of the old self, the old situation.  The Devil is slightly more troublesome in that it infers confusion and deceit of some sort - self-made entrapment or perhaps if Tiger Woods had been here, adultery..(allegedly).   But I do sort of know why that card came up.  More importantly than that I didn't pull The Tower....no you don't want to ever really get the Tower.  The Tower is bad.

The thing I like about the Tarot cards is that, much like meditation - they do sort of offer guidance and answers to subliminal questions.  And the cards do not lie.

I know what my future looks like and it ends with the Wheel of Fortune (7pm, CBC)...no just kidding.  The real Wheel of Fortune is a good card to pull...a great one even.  Is my ship finally coming in?

I certainly hope so but for now, I must live in the moment.  Tomorrow isn't here yet and yesterday is long gone.

The 'oh yes I did' list

Hello again.  Fancy meeting you here.  To continue then.  Today I did many many wonderful things.  I did rise with time to give my child a proper breakfast before school, the only meal, I think you will find, where you would eat a fluffy kitten if that were the only thing on offer.  Not today.  Today no food groups were omitted.  Then to my utter amazement I noticed in the sky this round yellow thing.  I checked Wikipedia and decided this must be a thing known as 'the sun'.  It felt warm on the skin - what new sensation is this for Ontarians?  I was jubilous and left the house with clothes thin enough as to allow for a sihouette that didn't look like the michelin man's. 

All around me people stumbled dazed and confused by the un-Tundra-like conditions, in court shoes and flimsy jackets looking like they'd just waddled out of the sea on newly grown limbs.

I did lots of wifely things too like shop and clean - well, I say clean - I made the bed.  Actually, I didn't make the bed.  But I shopped - for food! and I may have achieved more but the burning ball in the sky was too distracting. 

I resisted treats - the ones I tend to eat by the fistful and I didn't have one sarcastic thought today about Toronto; its one way streets, the roadworks, the stupid 2 line underground system (why bother) or the made-up Hydro debt charge that appears on your water bills when it's clear the debt was paid 10 years ago.  No, none of that mattered.   Instead I enjoyed the day with the innocence of a 3 month old child  gurgling and laughing at life's little lessons.  Oh, they can be so rumbunctuous - like baby jackals.

And then I did two classes of Yoga - back to back.  Oh yes I did!

I intend to do similarly ephemeral things tomorrow. I might even squeeze in some Christmas shopping though in this mood, I'm capable of bringing home an orphan.  Perhaps I should wait for a snow day before taking on something as dangerous as Christmas shopping. 

And to think just a few days ago I was trapped by the black dog of depression, lock-jawed in a vicious tussle with the psyche.  Well, tis not my place to question the wonders of hormones and their effects on the brain, tis my place to enjoy the lightness of being while it lasts because I appear, finally to have dug my way out of this cell but for now I shall keep the poster of Raquel Welsh over the hole until the coast is clear.