It Doesn't Feel Like Work
I came into my job on happenstance, as many great adventures often begin. I'd been a member at my yoga studio for about a year, attending three to six times a week. The exercise, the infrared heat, the community, it all helped with both my physical and mental health. When the studio owners announced their plan to move to Costa Rica I jumped at the opportunity and slapped my resume on their desk the following day.
The grass is green and covered with dew. Early morning spring, still hushed, broken only by trilling song of birds and the lazy roll of wind through undressed branches, tips brightening to green from winter grey. It is here I contemplate you-- what little of you there is, and all of you there will be.
Bunch of Posers
It's three fifteen and they're not here yet. They said they'd be here at three. I've been sitting on the step, staring at the front door, picking the lint off my sweater for the past thirty minutes. My feet are stuffed sweatily inside my boots, my hand-me-down skates lean against them.
My Heart to Greater Loyalty
January, 1978 From the moment Pa pulled him from his mother, I knew he was the one. He'd plopped unceremoniously onto the straw in the barn, deaf to the pained mooing of his mother.
A First Best Friend
The first flakes of snow danced through the cold autumn air as Cadence twirled through the streets in her Elsa costume, convinced she'd summoned them herself. It didn't bother her that most of her sparkly blue and silver dress was covered by her bright pink parka, or that her earmuffs didn't go with the long braid at her side, or that the tacky plastic pumpkin only held a fraction of the amount of candy a pillowcase could.
Most of my life I've been in a cage. A cage of disability. A cage of addiction. A cage of loneliness. As I cling to the bars of the cage, I can't help but feel claustrophobic. Steel on each side, above, and below. A trap, with me inside it. You'd think I'd be used to this feeling, of being confined with no way to escape. It's not new to me, although the cage I'd become accustomed to wasn't made of metal, didn't have a physical form.
How Yoga Saved Me
Yoga came into my life at a very important time. I was twenty years old, freshly moved out and living with my boyfriend, attending university full time, and working four shifts a week at a busy restaurant. It was normal for me to finish a closing shift, swing by McDonalds for a coffee at two in the morning on my way home to study for a few hours before grabbing a couple hours rest and then taking the hour-long c-train to class the following day.
The kettle barely has a chance to whistle before she removes it from the burner. Water heated to precicely one hundred ninety degrees is poured into the gleaming cylinder of the french press, already prepared with coarse-ground, organic, freshly-roasted coffee beans from an ethically sourced farm in Columbia. A timer is set for four minutes. While she waits, she leans against the countertop and opens up her phone.