Day 391: The Good Bits

Very pleasing day at work. More of them, please. Such nice people, through and through. The other actors as well as the delegates. Thanks for the inspiration and the groundedness and the warmth. Oh, and the work. Never to be sniffed at. At all. I love working.

Thanks for the smoothness of public transport, which whizzed me from the south coast to the bowels of Newbury for about 8.45 in the morning. Good work. And thanks for a late meeting with a very good friend, full of wisdom and humour and WOW.

Things come and go. Things change. This blog reminds me how many of those things were good. 

Day 390: Rip It Up And Start Again

Day 389: Sweat

Sweatier

Thank God for sweaty Ashtanga yoga at 7 in the morning. Thank God. My face may be drooping like a wet plastic bag tonight, but I'm glad I got up and went. It was beautiful to be out early. I miss (oh oh oh how I miss) those cold Austrian 5am starts; that blissful, peaceful, solo part of the day swinging my arms in the snowy car park before anyone else had shown themselves (I know there were other people up, but as long as I couldn't see them, I was happy). I loved drinking in those tasty morning prana vibes. There really is nothing quite like it. 

Not that I was up at five. I was awake far earlier, but not up. I twitched from three to five or so, did fitful snoozing until six and then focused refusal to get up until quarter past. I got to the yoga centre by seven. I was aiming for half past six. No biggie. It was the right time. 

We did the prayer just after I arrived. I'm glad I didn't know the words because tears came (quietly, a narrowing of the throat and a little bit of wet, not blubbery tears). God, I miss that too. I miss singing and praying and sitting with people in the morning and evening, and I so very much miss being part of something bigger and something spiritual. I'm part of The Hub and I value that. I'm part of the community of pond ladies and I'm glad for that too. Not quite like being part of a spiritual group, though. Not that anyone's better than anyone else - it's not about the quality of the people, but about how what we do together feels and why. 

Joey Miles

My teacher was good. Good, deep, physical adjustments. I've been spoiled, though. My first Mysore-style lessons were with this man, Joey Miles, one of this country's absolute top ashtanga teachers. I have never seen anyone so on it. He's adjusting one person, lying on top of them, barking very specific orders at people around the room - 'Lean forward, Andrew.', 'Emma, stretch your arms higher. Higher.', 'Good, Daniel, keep going.', 'Max, do that again, I'll come to you.'. And his adjustments are so comprehensive that you know how every bit of your body should feel, why you're doing each movement and the order of priority of the things to remember (breath, weight, drishti, sequence etc) so that if you're overloaded, you know what not to skip.

As good as this one. Not this one, obvs

Today, I met a brilliant baby. Eight months old. Determined to stand. Wriggly and laughy. I wasn't there to meet him (I didn't even know about him), but he was definitely the main  attraction. I could have stayed and played but I had work to finish. His parents were lovely too and they gave me lots and lots of ideas. 

Brighton Library doesn't have wifi. They give you a list of places that do. Right opposite the library is a Starbucks. Starbucks always has wifi, but that word does not appear on the list. I love Brighton. It says 'walk further; don't go there; they are not our kind'. How good is this: my brilliant friend Pudding, whose real name (Celine) is nearly always spelt wrong on her Starbucks cup, enjoyed very much giving her name as Überwhore recently. They spelt that right, but when her drink was ready, they chose to shout 'skinny latte' instead.

Double negative

It was from Starbucks that I spoke to Lilley (sorry Brighton, but I never have small cafe overstay guilt there, so I use them). Lilley pleased me greatly. Strident isn't the right word - she's softer than that - but direct and clear and asky, she is all of those things. I'm proud of her and I learn from her every time we speak. And thanks for a small exchange with Sandison. Always a joy, that creature. Always a pleasure. 

Thanks for more juicy work, Paloma, and Amy, for pulling out of your job on Thursday and calling me in to cover. And Neil, for suggesting another possible day on Wed 6th. I want to be doing proper go to work work three days a week now, and other work in between. Next week, we're on. This week maybe not, but one day is better than no days, and it's a well-paid day with a reasonable finish time. AND I wasn't expecting it. 

Time to give in to the droop and sleep like a job. With this under my pillow, so it might go in. 

Day 388: What?

More than one

Something as simple as a commitment to another person is enough to get me out of bed at pretty much any time. I was awake way before, but the room was just toooo cold to get up into. So cold! But I did get up and I did land in Mel's living room for a yoga session just after 7am. Good. And then a swim. Good too. No showers this morning. I think I actually felt warmer afterwards thanks to that. 

I'm in Brighton, staying with a lovely woman who rents out a room and has two four-year-old boys. They are very funny, and completely identical. Luckily, one of them likes blue very much, and has a thing about wearing a bow tie around his neck. Both of them seem to have a thing for hiding under a blanket and pretending to be a monster. I'm glad about that, of course. They're very articulate and very sweet to each other. 

What?

I met a man on the train with a massive dog, like a cross between a teddybear and a wolf. Huge, but harmless. Sweet. Better shaved, as always. Great big furry things don't really do it for me. All that lovely shape to them and you don't get to see it for all that fur. We chatted for ages and he told me all about the dog and a little bit about his life. He had love/hate tattoos. He was evidently well hard. He loved his dog.

I did a comedy fall as I got up to get off the train. I had a very heavy backpack on and it kind of fell off towards my head as I stood up, so I grabbed the armrest, which wasn't really there, so I tipped over on top of the dog. Saved myself, just, but with no grace at all. Thank god I'm not a teenager any more. In my own head, I'd never have lived that down. There are so many things that I love about getting older. 

I like getting older, but I've never really known what to do with a birthday. Now I tend to ignore it, or try to, though it nags like a needy child. Perhaps this year, I shall meditate upon it, listen to the little nagger and see what, specifically, it needs. I'm working that day, a long day with lots of travel, so that should put paid to the 'what to do' bit, but I suppose it's an opportunity to go deeper and to find something out. It's not a complete mystery. I do know some of the reasons why it's uncomfortable. Maybe I should meditate on what to do about them, or just on accepting them. 

Om cake

I do celebrate in March. Every year, I celebrate the anniversary of finally stopping drinking alcohol. It'll be thirteen years this year. In Brighton, I was. I'd already taken the first steps by getting some help from a cantankerous old hypnotherapist in Shoreham, but the day I actually stopped (about 5 days after my first meeting with him), I went to the first of the only two AA meetings I've ever attended just round the corner from where I am right now. Almost on the same street. Really very not far at all. I found it draining and exhausting - just not really for me. I went to a second in a different place and found it the same and I vowed then that if I ever seriously considered drinking again, I'd have to go back. AA's not for me, but I think their work is brilliant and I am glad for it being there, doing what it does, so that I can not go there and feel happy about it. That cantankerous old git and his stories worked wonders. That was for me and I am still inspired by that man and his work now. I wonder if I can remember his name. 

Arty bud

I have heard that a really good hypnotherapist often hears people say 'Oh, I went to a hypnotherapist and it didn't really make any difference. The problem went away on its own'. That makes it harder for them to market themselves. This guy was great. He told his clients that he had enough clients and he didn't need any more, but that if they knew someone who was really determined to change something in their life and were really desperate to work with someone, they could pass on his details if they really wanted to. Ha. I was hooked and committed before I even met the man. He was amazing. Through his down-to-earth grump and straight-talking, curly-talking magic, he worked wonders.

Perfunctory blossom

Anyway, all that to say that I celebrate that birthday and I always feel good about it, so roll on March. Once we're through the first week, there's no stopping us!

I saw blossoms for the first time yesterday and then a rash of them today. There are buds. Spring is happening. This is good. 

Day 387: Start

More dog action and a little soul-searching.

On the dog action front, a poetic move by Betty this morning meant her lying down on my yoga mat directly beneath my downward dog. Scuppered the rest of that round of sun salutation. Best scuppering ever.

I’ve been feeling groundless, so I was very grateful, this evening, to get a text from South African Peter confirming he’d be interested in letting me have the room in his flat on a short term basis at a price I can afford (and less than he was asking originally). He has two cats, high ceilings and space for yoga in the room. It’s not dirt cheap, but it does tick most of the boxes on my list of what I was looking for.

It's a start.

Day 386: Betty

Not Betty

There is untold pleasure in a dog. 

I'm dog-sitting the sleek and slinky Betty, a golden labrador with a sweet personality and no end of energy. She's snoring at my hip as I type, flexing her toes (no biscuit waft from her foot pads yet - I must go in for a sniff later and see if she is the same as other dogs on that front).* She's lying like a cartoon animal who'd been caught by tribespeople and was being carried through the forest upside down, suspended by her legs from a pole. Apart from the twitching and the occasional snarly nose, she does look a little bit dead too.

We had four hours or so on the heath this morning, some of it with lovely Ruth. The throwy thing is a revelation (those handles that pick up a tennis ball and let you throw it - not only massive fling power without strain, but no need to touch the dirty, saliva-soaked mudfest that the ball becomes). She entertained me with scrabbly ball-chasing; completely determined, limbs all over the place. I loved it when she entertained herself with the ball, like kittens do with string. All pouncy and skittish, she was. Very funny on a dog that size. 

This evening, I confused the poor pumpkin by doing yoga while she lay on the sofa. She watched intently at first, whined and then barked during the headstand - maybe because I was upside down, or maybe it was just encouragement - I didn't get all the way up, see. Then she came and lay down next to the mat and tried to insinuate herself onto it. I enjoyed a savasana with a long dog's face in one upturned hand as I relaxed. 

Digestive biscuits

She never tires and she wags when you say her name. She flips on her back and asks to be scratched in the belly any time she thinks it's likely. With a ball in her mouth, she has the goofiest grin. She doesn't seem to mind my forehead-bothering of her. She likes to lay her head on my thigh (when there's not a laptop there, all up in the way). She's a playing machine and a fountain of glee. I see people smiling at her when they pass her. She allows conversations to happen (met another potential client in the park, thanks to the Bettifer and her sweet face). I like her very much.

Dogs' foot pads

I also had the gently delightful experience of being told very politely by a girl of about seven that I wasn't really supposed to have a dog in this park, thus saving me the wrath of an adult or an £80 fine, had we been caught by whoever catches people at such things. I looked all over the sign to see if it said no dogs. It didn't. It said it on a plaque on the opposite side of the gates and I'd missed it. After I'd left the park, an adult did wind down his window to say, in quite a cross tone 'that's a dog-free park you've just had that dog in'. I was able to say 'I know! A little girl came and told me that, so I've left.', still floating a bit on the odd pleasure of that experience. That seemed to diffuse him, and as he turned his car around, he showed me where to find a dog-friendly spot just down the road.

Enough of Betty (oh, she's dreaming - she's doing silent barking and twitching her limbs!). Thank you, Swami Sivadasananda, for a Yoga Zuhause session today. I enjoyed it very much. I see how they've fitted it all into the time. It's a tiny bit rushed, and the postures aren't held very long. I need a remote for my mac, or I can put it onto an iPod and pause it at strategic points along the way. 

Lilleywisdom was one of yesterday's gifts, and an email and a text from Daniel too. Contact with my friend Pudding, who I miss, and with lots of other warm and clever people.

I've been thinking about happiness and memory again. I was watching a TED talk about synthesised happiness (http://www.ted.com/playlists/4/what_makes_us_happy.html) where big things happen to people and they adapt. I was thinking about the TED talk I watched ages ago about the surgeon who extends any painful surgical procedure he performs for about 5-10 minutes after the painful bit. The patient's memory of the surgery is much more positive when he does this, as the last memory, it 'not being too bad', usurps the memory of pain simply because of its position on the timeline. 

Dangerous game, given the circumstances.

How can I use this? How can this make me and other people happier? There was also a bit in the talk with the link about how three months after a life-changing event, there's pretty much no difference to the way people perceive their happiness. No difference in two ways. Firstly, not really much difference from Before and After the event. Also no difference in happiness perception whether the event was perceived as positive at the time (winning the lottery, for example) or negative (having cancer, losing a job, being part of a big scandal).

One way would be to keep alive the things that were big and significant, like the yoga teacher training. To keep the differences going. The heady intensity of the experience may take a new shape in memory, but the daily practice can keep it sparkling. I can do better with that. Also, this is a fact to remember when something earth-shattering seems to be happening. It may seem bad (or even good) now and perhaps I need to feel, in this moment, that it is, but ultimately, give it a few months and your life will have a new routine. Once it does, you'll be hungry for the next thing. Nothing is forever. You can't hold onto the good experiences or the bad ones (though lord knows we try and try). 

No reason

You can keep reliving them in your head. You can even keep feeling the emotions you felt (or think you remember feeling). You can get stuck there. And you can more on and keep the ways they have enriched you. That's a choice you CAN make. You can choose to focus on the ways that any experience has benefitted you. This is where synthetic happiness comes in. The good news is, it's just as good as 'the real thing'. So strap in, get focusing and enjoy.

Ooh, the dog's wrinkling her nose in her sleep. Cute!

* Couldn't wait. Yup. They smell of digestive biscuits. She's a real dog.

Day 385: Fear Has Many Faces

Ulp!

Isn't the internet great! It is, though. Today, I checked a German job and a Spanish job using Google Translate and some free - and very comprehensive - online dictionaries. 

Brilliant. The whole internet, I mean.

That's not to say that I don't love paper dictionaries. I love them more than I can tell you. I love the weight of them and the smell and the serendipity of new words, stumbled across in the search for something. I know they're less efficient, but aren't they delightful? I love the font of a Collins, too. 

The Internet brought us this 'gem'.

The internet, though. What a gift (and a bane - we'll get to that in another post). You can check shit out just like that. Like this morning, I attempted to do Ashtanga after just four or five classes in Leeds and I forgot it. I've downloaded an Ashtanga Primary Series chart, so tomorrow, I'll have it in front of me when I practise. If I wanted to, I could watch a YouTube clip of pretty much every sequence. I could also just sign up for yoga online and have someone show me the moves just so. That would miss part of the point, or at least part of the pleasure, of practising with other people. You have to admit, though, it's mighty useful. And if you're still not sure that it's brilliant, there's always this.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b9lT3wZNWw4&feature=youtu.be Again! It never fails to lift my mood. Not so far. 

Scary? Or looking stupid?

I've been thinking about fear today, and appropriateness. Partly inspired by a conversation with the Grundel, by the pond, by other conversations too, and conversations not had. There are so many things we (I?) don't do because of fear. Of course there are pragmatic things, like walking alone through a park at night. On balance, though, I bet that even though most people would agree that this is unwise, especially for a woman - though for men too - you could walk through a good ninety-five percent of the time, maybe more, without anything untoward happening. 

Then there are the questions you don't ask (for fear of looking stupid), the risks you don't take for fear of failing (and looking stupid), the requests or offers you don't make in case you overstep some imaginary line, which, if you think about it, its almost certainly in a different place for every single person who perceives it... so you might as well go in with your big feet ready to tread, because even the carefullest of us will overstep SOMEONE'S line. Don't worry, though. They'll probably be too scared to say anything. 

Not THAT scary, this one.

I know I'm not saying anything new, but it's on my mind so I'll say it anyway. These limitations are so often just entirely made up. I know there are social norms and I'm a great one for tutting (internally more than vocally) when the ones that are important to me are ignored by other people. 

Then there are people who do things when they really are in danger, like the man this article is about http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-21499068 (thanks Snr Otley, for the link). This doctor is in danger and the women he's helping are too. They're still getting on with it and doing the things they need to do. 

This doesn't even make them 'better' people. You can't BE better, you can just behave better, surely. You can get better at the stuff you want to get better at (rather than constantly practising the stuff you don't). You can do better. It does make me think, though. There are so many things I not only don't do because I'm scared, in a not-real way, but I spend a long time thinking about doing (or not doing) those things. Get a grip, girl. There's work to be done. Start doing some of it, why don't you?

Pretty fucking terrifying. And yet harmless.
Except in your dreams.

Speaking of work, I am full of gratitude for two bits of work in discussion today and more on the way, and for the two jobs (one paid, one not) that I enjoyed, finished and sent off today. I want to work like a beast these next few months and make heaps of money to do some things I really really really want to do that need some. I do lovely jobs, so it's hardly a chore. I want to do them, very much I want to do them. AND I want to do some nice, big, juicy things that involve travelling and learning and spending time with spiritual, wonderful people, teachers, friends, doing things that inspire me and other people. 

Rarrrghhhh!

I'm grateful for yoga and the pond and Mel (again), involved in both. I'm grateful for an early start and lotsish done. I'm grateful for how much richer my experience is for the good people who sweeten it and make it more interesting. Many of them are curious creatures. That pleases me. What if we faced fears not even with a sense of combatting them or overcoming them, but just finding out. What's this? What's behind it? More importantly, what happens when I do that thing it's begging me not to do? Now THERE's a good project. Yes please.

Day 384: Creepy Hug

Nine degrees? Nine degrees? My phone promised nine degrees today, but I swear that this morning it was below freezing. Ice in the water. Tinkly ice, beautiful ice, admittedly pretty thin ice, but nevertheless. I was definitely a little bit scared walking down those steps this morning, but what good is fear. The water stays the same temperature whether you're scared or not. If you're going to get in, you're going to get in. Get over it.

Thank god for lovely Mel. Had it not been for our dip-date, I doubt I'd have made it. Thanks also to her for being flexible and patient when I was predictably late; for her laughter and brilliant conversation, her oats (no euphemism, this) and her patience when I tipped a particularly tasty cup of 'Lebensfreude' Yogi Tea all over the newly-hoovered carpet. Ashtanga + pond date with her tomorrow. Let's do this shit!

And today, I get to play, thanks to Charis and Libby's Tuesday night sesh. I'm aching to play, I am. It's so much fun. How could I have forgotten our weekend Kerrison playdate? That coolest of Clares met us at the Wellcome Collection for a taste of Death (a slightly disappointing exhibition, to my eyes. It promised insights on attitudes to death and got rave reviews from the Guardian, no less, but to my mind there were way too many skulls and not enough meat). Clare met us and helped me fulfil my promise, the promise I was unable to to keep during the sattvic yoga training of showing Nicolò how to have a fake punch-up. 

Seriously creepy

So CK and I had a tiny fight outside the exhibition. I punched her in the face. She kicked me in the stomach, slapped me and kicked me full in the face, throwing me to the ground. I loved it, though I did have to reassure a girl of about 12 that it was just pretend as she watched me pick myself up off the floor after a proper biff. We held back on the brilliant stage kiss we'd practised at our lady workshop. I'm still more comfortable with a slap than a kiss. Hmmmmm. 

Today, somewhere in between. Creepy Hug has been promised, and creepily, creepily will be hugged. Hell yeah!

Day 383: Lovely, Loving Feast

I'm blown away, grateful, humbled, happy, moved and a tiny bit bereft all rolled into one great long sausage and put in the oven to bake.

Nicolò enriched me with his company all weekend. That's not a figure of speech. I feel enriched and nourished and blessed. We had such a lovely time, from our Friday Italian cheese and polenta feast to bus rides (at the front), to walks and visits and playing and singing, music therapy, meditation, talking, talking, talking and so much more. Some not-doing too. 

What a joy it was, too, to have a reunion with the London TTC crew, Cat, Fiona and Neil. All of us went to a yoga class at the Sivananda Centre in Putney, then satsang and then dinner. Satsang was led by a swami who made himself laugh just like Swami Sivadasananda does, and who spoke with warmth and humour and playful goodness. Oh, how I've missed singing kirtans! How I've missed sitting and singing and clapping and sharing space and energy with people who love that too. I had no idea, two months ago, that this is how I'd feel. And how rich it was to spend time with these four, talking about how things have been since we all got back and how our experience has changed us. It can't not change you, that. You open up all sorts of parts of yourself. You make new bits too, or maybe you just notice them. Things change. It's good to talk to others who are experiencing the same. I've been very lucky since I got back (thank you, Lilley, thank you, Daniel) in that so many of the people I've had the pleasure of have shared this or something similar. It's helped. More than I could have anticipated.

I'm so grateful to Ruth, for welcoming us and having us in her home, and later allowing us to be here even when she had to be somewhere else. 

I have so many thoughts and emotions flowing through me at the moment, I'm not quite sure where to put myself. I think a meditation is called for and a little bit of breathing to help me digest this wonderful feast that I've just taken in. 

Day 382: Pickle

That's a dangerous pickle.

Ha... today is one of those days when it's a challenge to be really honest, because there's an experience going on that's not all that smooth. This is where the practice comes in. This is where remembering gratitude is even more important than when everything is in giddy full flow. 

Shite cartoon pickle.
Not dangerous at all.

I've made a few choices that have meant that I'm in a tiny bit of a pickle today, or so it seems. It's not a dangerous pickle (oh, picture search, picture search!). I'm grateful for all kinds of things about it. 

I'm also very aware that I am the chooser of all these situations I find myself in and I invite the kinds of experiences I need. Simply that knowledge is a salve to any experience. Not in a blamey 'I caused this' way, but in a 'What is it that can be of use from this? Why do I need to have this experience? What is it I need to learn?' Pain is a great motivator for me. When things are uncomfortable, I do take action to move away from the pain and into somewhere bigger and more helpful. 

Dangerous Pickle. Brilliant!
Given half a chance, he will bite off your face.

Possibly not so great that I seem to get restless when things are too settled. I want more. I want 'other'. I want to learn. And then we're often back to some discomfort again, while I find out, with my inefficient method, what it is that I do want. 

It's often what we think about a situation that causes the discomfort. How we think it ought to be compared to how it is. It's easy to forget what steps we took to get where we are and how glad we are to be there. 

Am I glad that I no longer have a full time job that I know is not my calling? Yes, very glad indeed. Isn't it fantastic to have the level of flexibility that I have? It is. Is it refreshing to be honest with people even when it doesn't always get you what you want? It really is, yes. Don't get me wrong - there are situations where I'm not brave enough to be truly honest, possibly for fear of getting what I want, and there are others where I'm very brave indeed (like a monster-fighter) and very clear. 

Ah, fear. Fear's a big thing, isn't it? One of the things the lady said was to do with that. She told me I didn't need to have any and that I'd always be looked after. I choose to believe her. It's one of those minute-by-minute choices, so you just need to remind yourself from time to time what's going on and how, in reality, in this moment right now, there's nothing to be afraid of. 

When you make decisions based on the fear of what might happen, on that heady rollercoaster of ifs and maybes and thens that build themselves like towers in your head, then you can be sure that you're not in the present and that you're not doing yourself justice. What's happening now? What can I do right now? Am I breathing? Sometimes, the answer to that question is no, I'm not. Breathing always helps. 

I'm thankful to have good, inspiring people in my life. I'm thankful to be surrounded by people who go after what they want and who have a plan. 

Day 381: Satellite Delay

It's a sign

Get This:
So, up I got at 5.32, one snooze after my alarm (sounds like an idiom for someone who's a bit spacey). Megabus to catch, power drink to make (my first - wasn't as good as Daniel's, but he's a pro) and paint trays to clean, because I only remembered to do them late last night and they were being all stubborn, so I soaked them.* 

I was a little later out of the door than planned, so I scrapped my plan to walk the long (and better lit) way round to the coach stop and took the shortcut. it was about 6.25 in the morning. I noticed a person walking in front of me. I noticed that she'd noticed me and I sensed that she was scared. It's early in the morning and there's nobody about - you hear someone yomping along behind you like I was and you can get scared. That's why I was going to take the long way round - I was scared of being scared.

Durga - it's a long story

I knew quite quickly who it was, this person, even though I've only seen her once before. I thought I knew, anyway. When I got parallel, I said 'Good morning.' Whoever it was going to be, that usually puts people at their ease. And yes, it was her. It was my lady from St. Leonard's with the life-changing messages. She said 'Oh, it's you! I was scared' and I said 'I knew it was you' and then we chatted a bit. She gave me another couple of gems. We held each other's hands and thanked each other. Then we said goodbye. 

A little bit of universe

I'm a little bit blown away. How likely is that? Honestly - how likely? 

=====
This is from Monday morning. So many happy things have happened in between... let's catch up tomorrow.

* Don't be stubborn with me, or I'll soak you. Take that as you will.

Day 380: Speckled Success

Success!

Like this, but with blotches. And no headscarf.

We got really, really close to finishing our DIY project. Today involved painting, paint-speckled skin, managing to dip hair all the way into the pot and a considerable amount of sanding. First thing: sanding and wiping down the walls. Then painting them once. I did a lot of cutting in (check out the lingo - ha!). It's not my favourite job, but I grew to love it by coat three. 

Daniel laid underlay, laminate flooring and hardboard in the corridory bit. We sanded and painted the skirting boards and Daniel put a first coat on the radiator. The bannister received its undercoat (congratulations are in order) and its first layer of gloss. The floor is protected and pretty much all that's left to do is give the gloss-wearers a few more coats and tidy up where the masking tape has been. How Good Is That!

I have never painted a radiator orange.
There is still time.

Sometimes, the second day of DIY disappoints. The first was always so exhilarating. Today was gentler, but full of completions. I enjoyed it very much and I'm so glad we got as far as we did. The last time I wore these dungarees, I didn't make it to my second day. I loved the first (the dungarees are wearing pink, orange and green thanks to that day). We were painting the Tara yoga centre. I had the little green room to do. I peeled window transfers off (mmmmmmmmm). I didn't manage to get near the laminate flooring, but there were a lot of grunty men at that job and they seemed to have a pretty good system going. You can't break into a job when you're not needed just because you fancy it. 

I had a feeling I should have cut my losses when we stopped for the day and gone home, but for whatever reason, I stayed for the evening's thank you, involving a lap-dance and a full strip-tease, raucously applauded by all the karma yogis. More about that here:   http://daysofgratitude-jc.blogspot.co.uk/2012/01/grateful-day-92-offal-and-defiance.html 
It was the beginning of the end of my time with that yoga school, though. And the beginning of the way towards the yoga course I've just done, about which I can be nothing but gleeful, grateful, bliss-kissed.

Thanks for lovely emails from a potential landlady and for a great facebook message from someone else I visited on my hunt for a new (temporary) home. They're going to come and do yoga with me and they want to introduce me to a clown friend of theirs who lives in a community. How nice. How very kind and lovely. I'm impressed.

I'm loving my iPod today. I'm usually pretty hesitant to share such a thing as my music taste. I often hear myself saying that I have bad taste in music. I think maybe I'll stick to 'very varied'. I like a lot of things that I assume other people won't like, but it's all good. Admittedly, there was no Russian rap on that iPod - it's from the old mac and it isn't familiar with such delicacies - but there were some very happy-making sounds coming out of that little pink nano today. Good times.

I'll be up to see the dawn again tomorrow. AND it might snow. Whatever happens, it'll be an adventure. 

Day 379: Couldn't Be Happier

I just couldn't be happier with today. It has been a pleasure from (early) start to finish.

I'm so grateful for public transport keeping its promises. I was picked up by an arse-faced driver at just past 6am this morning. I'd been up for about half an hour. He must have been up considerably longer than that. Not surprised about the face.

The bus worked and the tube worked and the ticket machine worked and the train worked. Even my seat reservation worked. I had two table companions, a man and an almost-man. The AM could have been anything from 16 to 23 or so - he was something of a whippersnapper, and very pleasant. Massive headphones. NO SOUNDBLEED! I was impressed. 

Isn't dawn brilliant! Early morning dawn, not Dawn, an old friend from Hasbro, Dawn who always stuck two fingers up at me with the hugest glee, Dawn, the tiny bundle of vibrancy and humour, photographer, netball player, designer Dawn. She's brilliant too. 

Today's morning skies were something of a religious experience. It started with a taint of pink and orange insinuating itself through the clouds. Even at that time in the morning, the light was showing that it was going to be strong today. The colouring spread, then hid again, then took over the sky with a bit of a fanfare until the sun stole the limelight... half a sun, tainting the rest of the sky with its orange; a whole sun, dominating the horizon, then lifting slowly. It definitely had the upper hand today. The clouds were second fiddle and no mistake. 

I got picked up from the station. That's a rare occurrence. I often arrive at places and have a secret wander before heading to my destination. It's nice, but not as special as someone taking the trouble to drive out in good time and be waiting when you get there. And I got to go to a wood yard. My dungarees were twitching in my bag at the smell of wood and even the suggestion of DIY. 

Like this, but a better brown,
messier and with a girl in them.

 I love those dungarees. They're dark brown Carhartt working dungarees which I got when I was working on the farm at Esalen more than ten years ago. I haven't farmed in them for a long time, but I use them every time there's an opportunity to do DIY or anything messy. I love that I can wipe my hands, scraper, paintbrush on them at any point (I think that most clothing should be to keep food off your skin). I love that it just doesn't matter what they, or I, look like. They have lots of paint on them, in lots of colours. They have pockets and loops to hang tools in and more pockets and poppers and buttons and pads on the knees. They make me very, very happy indeed. 

Today was DIY heaven and power tool porn. An industrial steamer thingy for stripping wallpaper. We stripped and washed and polyfilled a whole room. It was a feast of work and sensual pleasure. It's easy to spit out clichés and to say certain things are 'better than sex', but there is a deep delight that you sense in your body in peeling strip after long strip of wallpaper from a wall, especially when there's an industrial steamer involved. When it's easy, it flows and feels good. When it's tricky, the satisfaction when success arrives is even greater. And perhaps I need to choose my partners more wisely. Life's a balance.

Wallpaper stripper AND diagram. Ace!

I love being useful and I really quite like being covered in crud, wallpaper paste, water and little flaky bits of paper. I enjoyed every second, balanced at the top of a ladder or crouching with a dustpan and brush. Today rocked.

Oh, and the lady this morning! She approached me in the St. Leonard's hospice shop, where I was looking for a decorating t-shirt. She gave me a very lovely, very warm compliment, which I accepted with a little bit of surprise and then she started talking and said all manner of things to me. It felt like she'd been looking inside my head. It felt like she might have been following me around over the past month or so and taking part in the things I've been discovering and the concerns I might be having. I'm not going to write exactly what she said. It was a gift to be grateful for, but not broadcast in its detail, I think. I am grateful, and humbled. And I'm still not totally sure that the lady actually existed. Perhaps I imagined her. Either way, I got the message. Thank you.

In summary, then... people I love, doing things I love, love coming at me from strangers and a trip up to Lilley and Daniel's eyrie for a solid night's sleep. 

An owl couldn't be happier.