The sky reflected off the floor of the outdoor pilates/yoga space. My thighs still feel the burn.
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40. Cancun Sky
Here is a beautiful thing. A blue sky. Spinnaker blue.
I left Ottawa in the midst of bitter cold, snow, icy roads, high winds, hell. I was stressed out and strung out.
Recentering. Rebalancing.
39. A veritable hoot
I have delivered training courses all over the world, hundreds and hundreds of times, in all kinds of conditions. Big rooms, small rooms, hot rooms, cold rooms, smelly rooms. Which brings to mind the group in Iqaluit where the enormous platter (enormous!) of raw caribou started to go warm right under my nose - and I was too worried about being politically insensitive or offensive to move it to a side table. Warm raw meat ripening. I will never forget that experience. The shiver of shock when I realized what was making that smell and how I was trapped for an afternoon with that as an aroma.
I digress. Today’s group? First it started with the training room only accessible by walking around the boards of an indoor hockey rink. The rink and the training room were freezing cold. For a full day myself and participants wore our heavy parkas. Indoors.
15 minutes into the session. THWACK. A start and a jump. THWACK. A puck, a puck hitting the board and reverberating off the walls of our adjoining training room.
Game on.
38. 2019 melancholy
We are on the other side of 2018, planted gingerly in 2019. I say gingerly, because it is a good word and a good concept. Although I am pretty sure we are not going to be going back.
On New Year’s Day I received a text from vindictive ex- with whom I have not communicated with in a positive way since 2008. A happy new year text. I was surprised. And filled in the blanks with the fantasy thinking that allowed our marriage to last 24 years.
He is older. With the new year he was feeling less aggressive, and more conciliatory. We have children together. Wouldn’t a grown up relationship be so… so adult. Finally. He is maturing. He is almost 60 for God’s sake. Good.
Before I could reply I found out he sent it to me by mistake. And when he found out he had done so, he was upset for having sent me a civil message.
Fantasy thinking. My specialty. And the only way that allowed our marriage to last 24 years.
The fact that I have never heard anything from him or about him that gives me the slightest regret that I left, makes me profoundly sad.
With that sadness comes relief that I did not stick it out another 10 years, with the hopes that he might change. Shudder.
I have not been melancholic. I have simply had melancholic moments. When thinking about these things from under the wing of a rickety Porter express flying death bucket (i.e. an airplane), feelings hardly register at all.
37. Another one bites the dust
I survived Christmas Day. Once again. As the years go by I acquire more and more confidence that I will survive. And I do. We all sort of do.
Despite all my best efforts there was drama. There was trauma. With an acrimonious vindictive ex-, inevitable.
I survived. My little family survived. We are on the other side.
The day before Christmas my younger son asked if he could invite untethered friends over. Of course. Of course. Which meant more food (growing young men), more cooking, and that moment after about 5 hours on my feet when I felt like my body was going to disintegrate or die. It gets worse with every year. Age and arthritis. Not a heady combination.
But I put my smiley face on. Is Christmas Day a good day? It’s brilliant!