Category Archives: Yoga

Maitri, Loving Kindness

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I try to incorporate maitri, or loving-kindness, into every aspect of my life, but I specifically do a maitri meditation a few times a week. This involves repeating the following four times: May you be safe, may you be happy, may you be healthy, may you live with ease. Each time the mantra is repeated, the mind is to focus on different people, the first being someone who is easy to love, followed by someone who is difficult to love. After that, the focus is on oneself, and then the mantra is sent out to the universe at large.

Easy To Love: My Boys

In my Ask Me Anything, Christa (HI CHRISTA) asked Were you ever disappointed not to have a daughter? Thank you for such a deep and vulnerable question, Christa! The short answer is no. I was thrilled to have two boys, although I’m sure if I had two girls, or one of each, I would be equally thrilled. The interesting thing is that as soon as I knew I was pregnant, I was certain I was having a boy. Then when it was clear our second child was a boy, I was over the moon that I would have brothers. I feel extremely fortunate in that they are the best of friends, as well as being wonderful sons.

I wanted two children, and that is what I got, so I was and am perfectly content. I will say that I was asked frequently whether we were going to “try for a girl,” which is a question innocently meant but one that I found, and still find, very upsetting and offensive on a number of levels. Being the mother of those two boys has been the great joy of my life, and I would not change it for anything. They have grown into remarkable young men who are easy to love, and hence they are frequent recipients of the first maitri meditation.

Difficult To Love: A Sociopath

One of the best things about having an Ask Me Anything is the wide variety of questions. My dear friend Suzanne (HI SUZANNE) asked Have you ever met a sociopath in real life? Well, Suzanne, not only have I met one, but through the marriage of a close family member, I was related to one! Technically I still am. I cannot say more, because there are eyes everywhere, but suffice it to say that this person is the literal worst person I have ever met in my life: cruel, diabolical, and manipulative.

I have tried to focus on this person in the second part of the maitri meditation, but I have never been able to make it all the way through. I feel like if I ever do, I will have reached samadhi. Maybe then that person would cease to be a sociopath! Perhaps I should try harder.

Loving Myself

Exactly seven years ago this weekend, I suffered an immense and debilitating hip injury just two days before my first – and, as it turned out, last/ never – road race. It was the most physical pain I have ever experienced, and I had two unmedicated births. It took a long time to be able to merely move without extreme pain, and for many months afterwards, I couldn’t walk without a limp. Looking back, I can see very clearly that I brought this injury on myself through over-training and under-fueling. In the months before, many friends had commented on my physical appearance and I brushed them off, but now when I look at photos of myself, I can see what they were saying.

In addition to my training, I was teaching 10-12 yoga classes a week, and at every class I would remind my students to pay attention to their own bodies, to work within their own boundaries, to respect limitations and particularly pain. I was a hypocrite. I pushed myself past my own limits, for reasons that now seem stupid. My body tried to tell me quietly that it was too much, and then it finally forcibly shut down my training, forever, as it turned out.

I am a firm believer that we all need a balance of yin and yang in our lives, and if we don’t take enough yin, our bodies will force us to through exhaustion, illness, or, in my case, injury. I recently read something, with regards to injury, that said my body didn’t fail me, I failed my body, and that really resonated. I failed my body by not listening, I failed my body by letting my ego take over, I failed my body by not nourishing it properly or treating it with respect and gentleness.

I do not necessarily subscribe to the idea that every painful thing is a blessing in disguise, but in this case, it was. It just took me a while to see it. As Ma Ingalls says, there’s no great loss without some small gain, and in my case, I gained massive empathy for people with chronic pain; it’s exhausting and deflating. More than that, I was reminded that I need to treat myself with tenderness and loving-kindness. I treat myself the same way I would my dearest friend, I treat myself with as much love as I would a small child.

I gave up practicing Ashtanga second series for the primary one, with modifications to care for my hip. I did restart running eventually, but gave it up in the fall of 2022 in favour of long walks with Rex. One of my senior yoga students, back in 2019, asked about my limp and when I told him it was a running injury, he looked at me incredulously. Running. Running? Why would you run? he asked. What is wrong with walking briskly? What IS wrong with walking briskly? Nothing at all. In fact, I prefer it.

There are still Peloton rides and there is strength training, but there is also a lot of restorative yoga and gentle stretching. Most importantly, I nourish my body and soul with plenty of nutritious food and, of course, delicious treats. I won’t deprive myself. After all, would you tell this little girl she couldn’t have that cake?

I also meditate a lot, and I direct my maitri meditation towards myself, as I should. As we all should.

Weekly Reading

Awake. I picked up this book without any preconceptions; the author, I discovered, is pretty famous in evangelical circles, and when her marriage blew up due to infidelity on her husband’s part, she was “cancelled” by some of those circles. I found this book to be disjointed, dull, and the epitome of telling instead of showing, and I really should have DNF’d it. But, I had DNF’d the previous two books I had picked up prior to that, so I decided to push through. It was not worth the push, although I will say that her husband’s “voice to text” to his girlfriend in the middle of the night was a sign of someone begging to be caught. Also, that voice to text was “I just can’t quit you.” ARE WE IN BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, SIR? Ridiculous.

Let’s Just Say It Wasn’t Pretty. I thought I would enjoy this collection of memoir-like essays about being a not-conventionally-pretty woman in appearance-obsessed Hollywood, but I was wrong. I did relate to the essay about bad hair days, but the rest were navel-gazing, self-indulgent, and grinding. It was written in 2014, so there is no excuse for all the loving anecdotes about her beloved friend Woody, as well as the multiple appearances of the word “retard.” This book made me like Keaton less and I wish I never read it.

The Blind Assassin. So, after two DNF’s in a row, and two books that I SHOULD have DNF’d, I needed a win. I needed a five-star. I pulled out my favourite book of all time, a book I have read many, many times before. My dear friend Lisa (HI LISA) had recently read this for the first time, and while she texted me about it, I became overcome with cravings to reread it. I sighed the sigh of pure happiness as I read “Ten days after the war ended, my sister Laura drove a car off a bridge.” So starts this masterpiece, which is a story within a story within a story, and has the most incredibly beautiful, incredibly clever, incredibly symbolic, incredibly powerful writing of any book I have read. I think about it all the time; the characters, the plot, and certain lines are in my brain forever. It is a work of art and I love it immoderately.

My feelings on the podcaster who recommended The Idea of You as the Best Book Ever.

The final maitri meditation is toward the universe as a whole, and I am sending out those thoughts to all of you, as I take a blogging break. May you be safe, happy, healthy, and live with ease. I will see you in a little while, friends. Take care. xo

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Memories of My Yoga Students Edition

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For the past few weeks, I have been doing a careful line read of my upcoming novel Inhale Exhale for final submission. It’s a book about a middle-aged yoga teacher who is looking for love, and while reviewing it, this middle-aged former yoga teacher has been reflecting a lot on the hundreds of students I have taught over the years. All of them meant something to me; some of them meant a LOT to me and have impacted me to this day. This month’s Favourite Things is an homage to them.

Nicole’s Favourite Things: The Memories of My Yoga Students Edition

Boney M(acPherson)

Every winter – starting in October, because it was Calgary – I would caution my senior ladies about slipping on icy sidewalks. The best way to recover from a fall is to not fall in the first place, I would say as we worked on balance and core strength. But sometimes that is not enough; one of the ladies told me about a friend who fell and broke her hip, but it wasn’t the fall that broke it – her hip spontaneously broke, causing her to fall.

I’ve been concerned about my own bone density for years, and I work hard at improving it through strength training and lots of calcium and Vitamin D. I became curious about the weighted vests I had been seeing all over the internet, and decided to get one of my very own.

I feel RIDICULOUS in it, like I am Sipowicz about to bust into a sketchy-looking apartment without a warrant. With my waist leash, fire hydrant-shaped poop bag carrier, cross-body bag, and workout clothes, I look deranged. But hopefully deranged with strong bones!

I really like the functionality, if not the looks; it has little sandbag-weights that can be added or subtracted, and with all of them the vest is 18 pounds. Is it working? Who knows! I don’t have a home bone density testing machine. But I feel like it can’t hurt.

Entering My Elastic Waistband Era

My senior ladies, such a lovely, fun bunch, also talked a lot about the joy of elastic waistbands, and they were right. Last month I bought a pair of Lululemon Dance Studio Crops, and whoa nelly. They might just be the most comfortable pants ever.

I mean, they LOOK comfortable. It’s not like these are sexy structured pants that surprise everyone by being comfortable. But I am embracing this New Pants Era of mine. In fact, I bought a second pair in black!

Judy, My Guiding Star

I have talked before about Judy, the octogenarian who embodies everything I wanted in life, and everything I wanted to BE in life. I adore her. Once, she visited her sister in Nashville, and brought me back this little set of bracelets, because they reminded her of me. They go perfectly with my new pants!

It’s All About The Literary Merch

I taught Yoga for Stroke Survivors for a few years, and one of my students was the personification of one of those before/ after yoga memes.

I mean, I don’t blame him. This man suffered a debilitating stroke in his forties; he went from being someone with a successful and lucrative career who enjoyed international travel and home improvement projects to having difficulties with things like walking and, um, filtering his language. He was angry. Every Thursday afternoon he would come blustering in to the studio, speaking VERY loudly about those fucking morons at the City, they can’t even get the buses to run on time, and no one cares about the fucking ICE on the sidewalks, he slipped and fell, what the FUCK, and by the way, his goddamn neighbour won’t even shovel HER sidewalks, and she can’t hire anyone because she’s POOR and it’s not HIS fault she’s poor, why should he have to deal with HER problem. It wasn’t something you’d expect in a yoga studio, let’s put it that way. But after yoga? After yoga he was an absolute doll. He would be laughing and joking and speaking kindly to everyone. Really, it made the job very satisfying, if a bit trying at times.

One day he came in with a shirt that read Nolite te bastardes carborundorum, and I asked him about it. Don’t let the bastards get you down! he said to me, and two things popped into my head; first, that saying must have been extremely resonant for him, as he felt pummeled down by the bastards – his stroke, the city, his neighbour, literally everyone in his way – every day. But also it seemed very familiar to me in some way, like I had seen it before but couldn’t place it, and it wasn’t until 2020, when I reread The Handmaid’s Tale in preparation for The Testaments, that I remembered.

A few months ago I saw this tee at Redbubble – I credit the popularity of the TV series which I have not watched and I WILL not, do not come at me – and I thought YES. I thought of my student but I also thought of the political situation we are living through now, particularly in Elbows Up Canada, and I thought I must have this.

On another literary note, I have been meaning to talk about my Most Ardently tee, which I love.

It goes great with the mug my son gave me for my birthday:

I have heard Austen novels criticized as being nothing but fluff, just stories of women seeking husbands, but I think that is an extremely ignorant and narrow view. Her novels are about so much more than that! Yes, there is a lot of marriage talk, but what could be more economically powerful for women throughout time? Women had literally no power at all, no choices, no money, no ability to hold property. Poor Mrs Bennett is universally thought to be a ridiculous figure, but let’s just think about this for a moment: if her husband predeceased her, she’d be homeless. She had five daughters and not one of them would be able to live in their home once their father died. The only thing that could be done is to have at least one of them marry in a financially advantageous way. LITERALLY THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE, NETHERFIELD PARK IS LET AT LAST. The whole inciting incident of Sense and Sensibility is that the women WERE homeless after the death of Mr Dashwood! They had to rely on the kindness of a distant relative who let them live in a cottage at a reduced rent because they couldn’t even take the dishes from their house that they had lived in for twenty years. So DO NOT TELL ME that marriage wasn’t an important economic decision for women, because it WAS. Do NOT disparage Miss Jane Austen, because I will not have it! NOT ON MY WATCH. Also, she is the wittiest writer that ever lived. I will hear no arguments! I will also enjoy my Jane Austen merch!

Woo, I got a little worked up, I have to take a breath here. Let me calm down by looking at this face:

Heads Have Rolled For Less

On the topic of women and economic power and “things that seem fluffy but are far from it,” I am obsessed – obsessed! – with The Gilded Age. It’s by the creator of Downton Abbey, of which I have watched every episode and every (not great) movie, and you can really tell the similarities between the two series. There’s even an American heiress marrying a cash-poor English Duke – shades of Cora! The Gilded Age has it all: high drama, secrets, betrayal, upstairs/ downstairs people, making money, losing wealth, living the American Dream, fabulous older ladies with complicated storylines. It’s all about society and power and oh my god, the costumes. The costumes are SO good, there are so many wild hats, and we are now done Season Three and I’m a bit bereft. I hope this show runs for another ten seasons. IT IS AMAZING, I love it, the writing is SO sharp and tight, and did I mention the costumes?

The stories are still pretty relevant today, honestly.

I love how Julian Fellowes really creates characters for older women with a lot of depth, romance, and wisdom.

Outfit of the Month

First, I would like to stave off any criticism about my clotheshorse ways by giving you an old/ new outfit:

YES THOSE ARE THE NEW BLACK COMFORTABLE PANTS. They are just as comfy as the beige ones, but the lady working at the library told me I “always look so elegant and pulled together” while I was wearing them, so score one for elastic waistbands. Speaking of comfortable, those sandals are Skechers circa 2022, and I don’t know how old the top is, but I bought it at Jacob, which went defunct in 2015.

Isn’t it cute, with the little ruffles? Proof that I’m not just wildly shopping, I like to hold onto pieces for years and years.

Ah, I have such lovely memories of all my students, from the enthusiastic Ashtangis to the devoted Hatha practitioners, from the Seniors and the Stroke Survivors to the chilled-out Restorative students, from the Strength and Tone ladies to the Thursday Morning Foundation class, every single student was special to me and I learned so much from all of them. Happy almost-long-weekend, friends. I hope it’s wonderful. xo

The 100 Day Project Begins

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100 Days of Music

My friend Kari (HI KARI) discussed the 100-Day Project in a recent post, which is exactly what it sounds like: a commitment to 100 days of something. That something could be any kind of creative or meaningful practice, and I knew I was in immediately. But what could I do? I’m not an artist, and although I think about what I’m writing every day, it isn’t beneficial to me to actually write every day. It feels like a cheat to choose yoga or walking in nature, which I do every single day anyway. Then it occurred to me: piano. I play piano most days, but not every day. I always feel like I need a block of time to play, which can be insurmountable some days.

But then I remembered my concept for Yoga Club, in which the only requirement for participants was one posture a day. Why not apply this to the piano? I don’t have to play a concerto every time I sit down; I am committing to at least one song – maybe more! – a day for 100 days. I started on May 5, which will take me to August 13. I got so excited about this that I ordered a new songbook, and in the meantime, I’m working on some old and new favourites.

Do you want to join? You don’t have to be a blogger, you just need to commit to something you’d love to do. My friend Michelle (HI MICHELLE) is doing 100 days of postcards, and I cannot WAIT to see her creations. Wouldn’t it be fun, all of us doing something together, but apart?

The Bears Are Back In Town

I was reading on the deck with Rex at my feet, naturally, when I heard a little rustle from the neighbour’s property. Typically this wouldn’t even register, since there are myriad quail and other birds rustling around in the grasses and shrubs, but Rex suddenly jumped up and started barking frantically. He backed his body into mine and continued barking, as I looked to see what it was. I couldn’t see a thing so I settled back down in my chair, but he continued to be very agitated. At that moment my son opened the door and asked me to bring myself and Rex inside because a mama bear and her cub had just been beside his car.

Eeep!

He had been taking something to his car and wasn’t thirty feet away when he spotted them, and after the bear made eye contact with him, she and her cub disappeared down the bank. I guess we are back in Bear Season. I’m trying to be zen about it: there are no reports of black bears attacking humans, and they would only attack a dog if they felt threatened. Rex has had ample opportunity to prove that he will not go near bears, unlike the deer who he will chase forever. There’s nothing for it but to continue to keep the garbage locked up in the shed, scan the yard before letting Rex out, and deep breathing.

Walking Each Other Home

I had JUST come off a week of coyote encounters, so I didn’t really need the bear excitement. The most dramatic of the encounters occurred by the creek on the walking path, when a very brazen coyote was just walking along the path, with people and dogs everywhere. When I encountered him, Rex and I were 85% of the way through our loop, and there were two options: to keep going and hope that Rex’s size and loud barking would get him to leave the path, or to double back and do almost the entire 5 kilometre loop again. As I stood there, a very nice couple offered to walk with me until we passed the coyote, strength in numbers, etcetera. The coyote did disappear into the greenery as we passed, with Rex giving the warning bark, and I appreciated the couple and their kindness so much. It reminded me of Rumi, and that we are all walking each other home.

Speaking of such, I have been loving Simple Abundance so much; May has been a month focused on the concept of home. I found this quote so interesting:

Was Edith Wharton a Buddhist? Probably not, but it reminded me of the concept of the body being a rental house for the soul. Also, I did not realize that Edith Wharton was an interior and landscape designer! People contain multitudes.

Weekly Reading

Speaking of multitudes, I have a couple of very opposite, yet weirdly similar books this week.

Animal Instinct. I came for the pandemic sex, I stayed for the incredible commentary on motherhood, marriage, and the need for connection. Wow, this book! It was recommended on Catherine Newman’s substack, and it is definitely a Pandemic Sex Book, although I will say that the sex descriptions are much less graphic than what I’ve seen in so-called spicy open door romances. Here’s the synopsis: it’s spring of 2020, and newly divorced Rachel makes a profile on a dating app. She is fresh off of a demeaning and lonely marriage, and she is DTF. No strings! She is also kind of a tech genius and starts to create an AI bot based on all the good characteristics of the people she meets, kind of a perfect person. And she gets a little obsessed with chatting with this perfect, non-existent person. This story has so much to say about the pandemic and how it shaped our relationships with screens and virtual contact. It has so much to say about motherhood, and how a woman can be a good and devoted mother and a sexual being at the same time. It has so much to say about marriage and the division of labour, childcare, and the mental load. It has so much to say about not giving up on love, even after heartbreak, and giving life a second chance. I loved it so much, but it is NOT for everyone (Lisa, I’m looking at you, HI LISA, do not read this). If you are at all triggered by descriptions of early pandemic days, and particularly the thought of other people having a lot of casual sex in spite of public health protocols, this is not the book for you. Personally, I have come to believe that the loneliness epidemic and the long-term effects of isolation on mental health were terribly destructive, but some might find the furtive booty calls upsetting. Also, like I said, this book is not as graphic as many contemporary romances, but it’s still pretty descriptive. In particular, there is an anal sex scene that still has me inadvertently clenching and Kegeling whenever I think about it, including this very moment.

Mansfield Park. Speaking of Lisa, she had mentioned a book called This Motherless Land, which, she said, is a retelling of a Jane Austen novel. I immediately and stridently said that I WOULD NOT READ IT because I LOATHE retellings, but then remembered that I had been currently reading Caroline, and also once upon a time I loved Bridget Jones’ Diary. And also the movie Clueless. And then I looked into This Motherless Land and discovered that it’s a retelling of Mansfield Park, which is a deep cut, it felt like. Given the synopsis it seemed like a fascinating book as well. So in Lisa’s comment section, I came full circle, and put This Motherless Land on hold at the library. This is a long way to tell you that while I waited for it to come in, I pulled out my old copy of Mansfield Park, which I haven’t read since the Great Jane Austen Pandemic Reread in 2021. I think this is a really underrated Austen, with its interesting themes of infidelity and colonialism, of the British class system and the creation of wealth via unethical means, of kind generosity for its own sake and the indolence of inherited wealth. One might think that the two books I read this week have nothing in common, but that’s not true: they both involve social propriety and othering people who choose differently, loneliness and forbidden love. There is also a joke about admirals, with their rears and vices, so really, what else is there to say? Jane, you saucy minx!

Devotions. There is no good segue here, but I have been reading a poem or two prior to my yoga practice, and have once again finished this, the most wonderful collection by my very favourite poet. She brings so much meaning, and finds so much glory in the natural world, and I love her so very much.

We all know that I too find so much glory in the natural world, but I could do with a little less of the large predatory mammal part of the natural world this week. My nerves! There has been a lot of deep breathing and meditating, believe you me, and in the meantime, I’ll be assuaging my feelings on the piano. Do join us for the 100 Day Project! We’re all in it together. xo

Cinco Para Cinco de Mayo

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Smile More

The city is so beautiful right now; all the flowering trees are in bloom, and every day is a little bit more colourful. When Rex stops to sniff, so do I.

We came across a little painted rock on the path the other day.

We both obliged.

It was funny to find that rock as I had just finished reading a chapter in Radical Acceptance about Unconditional Friendliness, and the importance of smiling to one’s spiritual health. Buddha, the book noted, is always portrayed with a smile to illustrate this concept of Unconditional Friendliness, which means to accept and meet feelings, people, and situations with openness.

In recent years women in particular – for good reason – have bristled at being told to smile, but honestly? Smiling is pretty great when it’s on your own terms.

I was in Costco last week and it was pure chaos – this may break the already well-established record for futile statements – but I made a conscious effort to smile amidst the pure mayhem that is endemic within that store. I will tell you that while it did not make the people blocking the aisles to get their free samples of sausage slices move out of the way, it did make the entire experience better. I welcome you with Unconditional Friendliness, I thought while maneuvering around them, I say yes to this experience. My Unconditional Friendliness was challenged in the dairy section, and wavered a lot in produce, but I kept my probably-low-level psychotic smile as I breathed through it. By the time I got to the checkout, there were no lines, and so I am going to conflate correlation with causation for my own purposes.

Science, Bitches

Typically I listen to podcasts while walking with Rex, and most of the time those podcasts are as frivolous as can be, but occasionally I will listen to something serious about economics, history, or science. I was listening to an Ologies podcast about Salugenology, the science of social prescriptions that increase health and well being, the categories of such being nature, movement, art, service, and community. It was a fascinating interview and I immediately put the author’s book, The Connection Cure, on hold at the library. I haven’t been reading much non-fiction lately, but I feel sure that I will love this, and you can be sure that I will report back.

On the topic of non-fiction, I have been approached more than once in the past several months by people asking about my newly-written, but not yet ready for publication, book. Strangely, the conversation immediately pivots from I heard you wrote a book to I never read novels, only serious non-fiction. I read to learn. Which, well. There is a lot of subtext to unpack there, and a lot of opportunity to practice Unconditional Friendliness.

Bad Bad Bad Bad Books, You Make Me Feel So Good

The great thing about books and literature is that there is something for everyone; there are countless books of all subjects and genres. On yet another walk I was listening to yet another podcast, this one by two women who have a romance publishing company. One of the hosts said something interesting: when it comes to books there is a subset of people who consider a book “bad” if one of the characters makes a decision that the reader disagrees with, or if the characters are not likeable.

I don’t belong to that subset. Three of the best books I read in 2024 had extremely unlikeable characters, or characters who made dubious decisions. Sometimes those characters were in both categories. Long Island Compromise was a work of art, it was so smart and so funny and such a great commentary on our society, and every single character was absolutely atrocious. Margo’s Got Money Troubles concerned a very young woman who becomes pregnant via an affair with her professor, and opens up an Only Fans account in order to make money. My Last Innocent Year also concerned a professor-student relationship that could never end well. I guess I’m part of the subset who really enjoys ambiguous endings, unwritten backstories, and layered stories. This is not to say that I don’t occasionally enjoy a cheery, predictable romance or bouncy celebrity memoir or even a serious non-fiction tome that increases my personal font of knowledge! But the only way I will consider a book bad is if it bores me, if the writing is poor, or if it doesn’t make sense. And yet, books are so subjective, one person’s I’d give it zero stars if I could is another person’s five star winner. It’s an interesting distinction: is the book objectively bad, or did you just not like it?

Taking It Personally

I saw a quote on Kari’s blog (HI KARI) that really resonated: If you understood how frequently people cope by projecting, you would learn to take nothing personally. I feel like we all should remember this all the time, both in our interactions with others, and our own responses to situations.

I’m a Creep, I’m a Weirdo

Speaking of responses to situations, a couple of days ago I had a notification of a comment on one of my Facebook posts. I looked at it, and then looked again.

This post was on the Calgary Yoga Community page, in response to a request for studio recommendations, and was written by me in November 2015. The commenter, John R Evans, says I was wondering if we could be friends, I already tried sending you a request, but it didn’t go through. Accept my sincere friendship, and please add me up if you don’t mind. THANKS.

First of all, Unconditional Friendliness does not extend to robot men on Facebook. Second of all, I’m sure the request did go through, but I would have instantly deleted it after seeing that the poster in question “works at US Army Fort Knox” and is “widowed.”

Of course I know this is not a real person, but still, it feels creepy. I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo. Fun fact: until only a few years ago, I thought the lyrics were I’m a creep, I’m a winner, and I always thought that’s so strange, it makes no sense, I guess they’re being sarcastic? Maybe I’m the weirdo here!

Weekly Reading

Caroline. This was a reread for me, first having read it in 2018, but it my friend Laura (HI LAURA) who, I have mentioned many, many times, runs Melissa Gilbert’s Modern Prairie book club, told me that this was their latest pick. So why not? It retells Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House on the Prairie, from Caroline’s point of view, with a few interesting and notable changes – those that were based on actual census data and not from Rose Wilder Lane’s libertarian editing. The wider story is about manifest destiny and fear of the indigenous people who they were displacing, which is hard to swallow these days. Still, I found it was such a thought-provoking read about what an incredibly difficult struggle daily life was back then. It must have been terrifying to be a woman – pregnant, no less, with two small children – riding into the unknown in a covered wagon and trying to figure out how to just make do with what she had. Imagine being pregnant and unsure if there would be a woman to help you with the birth! The reliance on good neighbours and how the very few that they had literally saved their lives is fascinating as well, and is something that is glossed over in the original books to reinforce the “pull yourself up by the bootstraps, be indebted to no one” theme.

Death By A Thousand Cuts. Last summer when my friend Jen was visiting (HI JEN), we went to Mosaic Books, and I picked this up. Then I had a flood of library books, forever, so I put it on my shelf. Friends, I forgot about it! When Jen was here last weekend, she was perusing my shelves for a book to borrow while she was visiting, and found it, still with the receipt. Didn’t you buy this book when we went to the bookstore? I had to right my wrongs and read it immediately after she left. And wow, wow, wow! It is so good! This collection of short stories is compelling and moving, and I devoured it. Every time I’d finish a story I’d think okay, just ONE more. Incredible! And the author is Canadian! You can bet I’m going to read everything she’s written now.

Three Days In June. This author is hit or miss with me, and this book was definitely a hit. I really enjoyed this tiny slice of life that concerned a woman attending her daughter’s wedding, with the day before and after. There was so much humanity in this little story, I loved it.

I wish you could smell these photos! You’ll just have to imagine – they are glorious! I hope you have a beautiful week, friends. xo

Five For Friday: The Pandemic Habits That Stuck Around For Five Years Edition

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Yesterday marks the five-year anniversary of the first of many Covid lockdowns. I have been reflecting on the pandemic a lot lately because of this; for me as for most, it was a time of despair, depression, anxiety, and fear. I have also discovered that I have a lot of shame and embarrassment due to my unspoken, but strongly felt, feelings of judgement towards others who did not behave the same way I did, or made different choices during that time. It seems my propensity for empathy and compassion took a leave of absence, and for that I am ashamed. The world, after all, is a wild tapestry of lived experiences and situations, and I feel that my silent judgement only contributed to feelings of fracture and polarization that still exist today.

But, as Ma Ingalls said, there is no great loss without some small gain, and to that end I would like to focus on something very positive that resulted from this time of fear and sadness: five long-lasting habits that have improved my life vastly. Had the pandemic not happened, I would likely be the same person I was five years ago, doing the same things, living the same life. But it did, and here are the habits that I kept and love.

Rex, second guessing his decision to be an emotional support dog after listening to me talk about the pandemic.

Practice At Home / Sweet Home Workouts. I recall seeing a commercial for Peloton circa 2019, and at that time I said to my husband that is the stupidest idea I ever heard, a spin class for one? Who would do that? Who indeed. Prior to the pandemic I was a gym devotee, using the treadmills and going to spin classes, and in May 2020 I ate those words I had spoken a year before. Maybe a Peloton WOULD be a good idea, I mused aloud, Except we don’t have the room. My husband had a Hold My Beer-style response, and immediately ordered one and reorganized our basement to make space. This is both a commentary on our consumption styles – he’s All Action – and on what it was like to live with a gym-free me. Spoiler alert:

The Peloton was, of course, the best purchase we made in 2020, maybe even ever. I use it almost every single day and am currently on a 1538 day streak.

Our home gym, including Nicole’s Cardio Corner.

In addition to going to the gym, I would get up very early every morning and head to the yoga studio to practice Mysore-style Ashtanga with a whole community of similarly-minded people, and if you watch that video, I’m the one in the bright pink pants. Five years ago today I switched my practice to a home one and I have never looked back. I miss my yoga people, but I love my quiet little practice at home. This week I have been watching the waxing moon as it falls; I suppose this is an upside to Daylight Saving Time as this happens very, very early in the morning.

I still wear the Shala merch, even though my Shala is now my living room.

Write On. It’s hard to even fathom, but I used to write blog posts whenever I felt like it, any time of the week. When the world shut down and I was faced, Virginia Woolf-like, without a space to write in, I became laser focused. I would write for twenty minutes before starting yoga, I would write on the weekends, I would write whenever I possibly could. I started a count of the weeks we were locked down, and published every Monday, with a Favourite Things every month. I feel like that period of time constraints was so helpful for me to structure my writing, and looking back it gave me a detailed journal of that time. I don’t have the same constraints now, but I kept the structured habits.

I now have a room of my own to write in! Rex is a good writing partner.

I also think that the blogging community really came together during the pandemic; you all showed up! So many new blogs were created, and I made a lot of new friends in that time. I think the blogging community is stronger than ever before, and I will never stop being grateful for all of you who are here, reading this right now.

Hair Affair. When I think of all the money and all the time I spent over the years, getting my hair professionally cut and coloured every five to six weeks, I want to die. Faced with my roots about a month into the pandemic, I purchased a box of Garnier hair colour and just went for it, and I have never looked back. Does it look like a professional job? No. But it costs $10 and I can just colour my hair whenever I feel like it, without blocking off an entire afternoon.

Fresh hair colour, Mexican humidity.

We Will We Will Walk You

I have loved walking since I was very young, but in March 2020 I started to become very intentional with it. In addition to my long-in-duration-but-short-in-distance, slow-boat-to-nowhere strolls with Barkley, I started Nicole Walks, a brisk-paced, five kilometre minimum every day, in any weather. These days, of course, I am accompanied by Rex, which means my brisk pace has slowed to allow for a whole lot of sniffing and people stopping me to admire my giant cartoon-dog-come-to life.

I don’t mind the slower pace; I can take in the fresh air and beautiful surroundings, I listen to podcasts, and I sketch out writing ideas in my mind while getting steps in.

No News Is Good News

I remember exactly when I decided to stop reading the news: it was January 2022. That month was an absolute low point in my life. Prior to that I would, ridiculously, spend massive amounts of time refreshing data on the “curve” and “case numbers” and “new restrictions in place.” In January 2022 there were no home Covid tests available, “case numbers,” were mere estimates, and it turned out that vaccines weren’t the silver bullet we thought they were, as vaccinated people began falling ill. School had been shut down, again, diploma exams were cancelled, and my kids’ mental health took a hit, given all they had lost during their precious high school years. My mental and emotional health was also pretty fragile. The constant scrolling was nothing but another negative impact in my life, but at least it was one that I could control.

I still don’t read the news, although I did break my own rule recently and went into a tailspin about whether or not my country would be annexed. The scrolling that resulted clearly showed the negative impact the news has on my mental health, and so I have implemented a new rule: I look over news headlines one time a day, for a maximum of five minutes. When it comes to news about Canadian politics, I look to my friend Darren, who gives balanced information from an economic and non-partisan perspective (HI DARREN).

Ma Ingalls was right. There is something good in everything and these long-lasting habits have been incredibly positive for me. Another thing the pandemic gave me was gratitude for the everyday things. Every time I hug a friend or share a meal, every time I board a plane to explore our vast, beautiful world, every time I go to the grocery store and encounter people without suspicion that they are vectors of disease, I feel incredibly grateful. But, to misquote the Four Non-Blondes, I pray, oh my god do I pray, I pray every single day for us to never walk this path again. May we never. xo

You Can Find Me…

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In Da Club

I am thrilled at the response to my yoga post! Don’t you just love the thought that we are all in our own separate lives, but yet together? I like to imagine you all just adding touches of loving-kindness and asana throughout your day. I think we could have a monthly check-in, with perhaps a mantra or featured pose (asana to do in your kitchen while you wait for the oven to heat up!) or a very short video. In early days of the pandemic, I created a series of gentle yoga videos specifically for my students as a stop-gap measure as we all tried to figure out the zoom life; the quality is pretty bad, and it was never meant for a wider audience, but perhaps someone will find them useful. At the very least, you can see what parts of my Calgary house looked like. Full disclosure: I have not rewatched these as they are a bit triggering, as it were, remembering the circumstances that led me to making yoga videos in whatever space in my house was unoccupied for whatever time I could manage.

If You Get Caught Between The Moon and The Walking Path

The Okanagan valley where I live is famously overcast in winter; this helps keep the temperatures mild and windless, and to me, that is a pretty sweet tradeoff. It does get gloomy though, and often it’s too cloudy to see the astronomical wonders in the sky. Over the last week, though, the clouds have been lifting, right in time to view the Wolf Moon.

On my early morning walk with Rex, I felt like I was inhabiting a Mary Oliver poem as the Wolf Moon fell on my right and the sun rose on my left.

The sun sets close to 4:30 now, which is a solid half hour later than a month ago. I’ve been known to suddenly scream at everyone in the house to look outside, oh my god, look outside, so I am one step closer to my Life Goal of Becoming Judy.

And look at this sunrise! I truly AM living in a Mary Oliver poem. No joke, Canada geese have been flying around me on every walk. WILD GEESE. I cannot make this up.

Please Please Wait A Minute Mr Postman

When we went to Italy, Rex went on his own little vacation to the pet resort. It seems like it was a three week bender. He came back with an eye infection, an ear infection, lice, and an extra two and a half kilograms. His collar was partially shredded and his license tag was missing. Wasn’t that a party…look at the mess I’m in! We should all have such a good time.

It was great timing, though, because I had been meaning to get him a nicer collar, and so I ordered one from Etsy as a Christmas gift, not that he knows what Christmas is or, more accurately, every day is Christmas for him. The Etsy shop MAILED it, even though the postal strike was already on, and so it was stuck in the US lo these many weeks. It finally arrived this week and I think he looks pretty sharp.

December felt very strange with zero holiday cards in the mail; I was a little blue about it but my husband assured me that I would be very excited when the mail started moving again. He was right; who knew holiday cards in January would be exactly what I needed? The mail is exciting again!

Also exciting was my package from Allison, who was my Secret SANta (HI ALLISON)! Allison and I have been friends for about fifteen years, and boy, does she know what I like. Look at this box of treasures!

Every single thing was a complete delight! Fuzzy socks and lotion, chocolates and candies, a bookmark and a gnome!

A gnome cross-stitch card? Omg! Thanks Allison!

Weekly Reading

The Body. A few years ago my friend Leanne (HI LEANNE) introduced me to the Bill Bryson Theory of Diminishing Returns that states that the first Bill Bryson book that you read – any of his vast collection – will be completely and utterly fascinating, and will cause you to excitedly read more and more. The next book – no matter which book – will be slightly less fascinating, and subsequent books will decrease in delight as you go along. I found this to be very true, abandoning the author altogether after Notes From A Small Island. But I saw The Body displayed at my local library; it was the very first Bill Bryson book I read, in 2021, and I wondered if it would be subject to the law of diminishing returns or if it would be as fascinating as when I first read it. Friends, it was the latter. It’s an absolutely incredible study of the human body and its functions and foibles. Now, I will say if you are squeamish at all, or if you even slightly veer to hypochondria or germaphobia, then you should probably give it a pass. I fortunately remembered the horror that was the breast cancer section and the description of the first mastectomies, and so I quickly skipped over that section this time around. Sadly, I did NOT remember the lobotomy section and read it again, which led to the same nightmares I had the first time around. Still, an excellent read, even if I did re-learn that “vagina” comes from the Latin word for scabbard, which, really? Can we have NOTHING for ourselves? It’s bad enough that until very recently clinical trials excluded women on the basis of their pesky old Aunt Flo, which led to inefficacies and sometimes toxic overdoses of prescription drugs for the female body, it’s bad enough that women are constantly misdiagnosed for heart attacks as we present differently from men, it’s bad enough that menopause is only recently being studied and that for hundreds of years women died en masse during childbirth not because of the birthing itself but because of puerperal fever brought on by MALE doctors NOT WASHING THEIR GODDAMN HANDS. We can’t even have that most female of body parts named in a way that isn’t in reference to the man and his MIGHTY SWORD? God, I could flip over a table and scream into the void. TAKE BACK THE VAGINA, LADIES! But back to the book. Modern medicine and everything we know about the body can be attributed to a) dogged, tireless, and often personally hazardous work by scientists, researchers, virologists, and other medical professionals, b) wild accidents, and c) absolutely atrocious and inhumane experimentation on people by Germany and Japan during World War II. A fascinating, if sobering, read. Also? Wash your hands! It’s the single most powerful way to stop disease, not just childbed fever, but almost all disease, including those considered airborne. The description of how a cold virus ends up everywhere is pretty disgusting and I am NOT going to think about it for one minute longer. Pardon me while I go wash my hands.

Don’t Forget To Write. When I was mired in emotional instability brought on by the beautiful but haunting Moon Road, my friend Hannah (HI HANNAH) suggested this as an antidote. It’s just fun; a story about a young woman in 1960 who gets caught making out with the rabbi’s son and gets sent to live with her great-aunt for the summer. This great-aunt just happens to be a matchmaker, and capers ensue! Sassy comebacks abound! There was a surprise ending that really was a surprise – I usually can see these things coming but I did not. Is it believable? Absolutely not! But it’s a perfect diversion from life.

Home Stretch. The day before a wedding, in small town Ireland, there is a terrible accident that kills three people – including the bride and groom – and seriously injures another. Two others are able to walk away, one of them being the driver, whose life in this small town is now ruined. This book is a perfect example of how to write compelling character-driven prose. Secrets abound and while some can be guessed at, the reader is compelled to keep going; it’s an un-put-down-able book that spans 1987 to 2019, from Ireland to England to New York City and back again. It’s a great story of choices, secret lives, and redemption. Thanks to Lisa (HI LISA) for this recommendation!

I hope you all have a beautiful week filled with fun mail, pretty skies, and, of course, yoga moments! xo

A New Kind of Yoga Challenge

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It’s that time of year where people are making all sorts of goals; specifically, it seems, health and wellness goals. I miss teaching yoga, a little, at this time of year because my classes always had some enthusiastic and curious new students. I really loved it, introducing people to yoga and specifically introducing them to my view of the practice.

Recently Stephany (HI STEPHANY) asked do you plan to teach yoga again and I don’t really, not right now. The thought of building up a clientele from scratch, looking for a class to teach, and finding substitutes for the classes that I will inevitably need when we travel just seems too overwhelming.

But I miss encouraging my beloved students on their yoga journeys. Many years ago – I think it was 2008 – a teacher said to me that there is a difference between going to yoga classes and having a yoga practice, and it is this latter that I wish I could impart on everyone.

I taught many different people with many different body types and abilities, and I feel like every one of them benefited from a practice. I taught seniors and I taught young people, I taught people who were able-bodied and people who were injured and people with chronic pain, I taught people who had suffered strokes and people who couldn’t get down to sit on a yoga mat and people in scooters. Over the years I taught hundreds of classes and I learned a lot about people and their bodies.

I remember one day looking around at my Yoga for Stroke Survivors class; there were probably fifteen people there, and everyone had wildly different physical abilities. I remember thinking how will I teach this? and then a lightbulb went off. I realized that there were so many different ways that a single asana could be experienced. Cat-cow, for example, is typically experienced on hands and knees, but the same spinal flexion and extension could happen if a person was seated on a chair, or standing with hands on a wall or another support.

Sometimes friends will tell me I wish I could do yoga, but I don’t have time. Or, I can’t do downward dog, I can’t touch my toes, I’m BAD AT YOGA. Friends, I am here to say that no one is bad at yoga. And you can have a yoga practice, if you want to, even if you feel you don’t have time.

Listen. I’m not your mom, unless one of my kids is reading this, in which extremely unlikely case I say hi lovies, I love you! I’m not here to be the boss of you or tell you what to do, but I do wish that I could spread the word that a yoga practice can be whatever you want it to be. Yoga videos and those thirty-day challenges are all great, if that’s your thing. I would never say a word against them.

But here’s the thing: for every person who benefits greatly from a yoga challenge and for whom that is the beginning of a lifelong practice, there are many others who find them discouraging or injury-inducing or otherwise detrimental. It doesn’t have to be that way, it really doesn’t. There are no yoga police. No one is going to kick you out of the Yoga Club if you aren’t able to hold a plank or if you can’t go into child’s pose without discomfort.

One doesn’t need lululemon pants or a video or even a yoga mat to have a daily yoga practice. I had a lovely older lady who came to my class once a week, and the rest of the week incorporated a small daily practice into her life. She would do a tree pose while she brushed her teeth, using her bathroom counter for support. She would do a standing cat-cow while she waited for her coffee to brew. A few times a week she would roll out her mat and do a few sun salutations, or she’d lie in savasana. I found her inspirational.

Here’s my challenge, should you choose to accept it. Pick five favourite postures, and then every day do ONE of them. If time allows, do two or more. There’s no need to do them together or at any particular time during the day, just whenever you find yourself with an extra minute. Maybe twist on the chair that currently houses your body, maybe stand up and reach your hands toward the ceiling. Take a forward fold when the shower is heating up. When stopped at a red light, turn off the radio and listen to the sound of your breathing. Bam! Meditation. Hell, if you have time, roll out a mat and do all five postures, maybe more, maybe do a whole practice or a video or go to a class, but just know that even one minute a day adds up over time.

One of the key tenets of a yoga practice is the concept of maitri, or loving-kindness, and this is not limited to how a person interacts with other people. The first person one should extend loving-kindness to is oneself. Giving yourself a little stretch during the day, permitting yourself to sit in quiet meditation for one minute, allowing yourself some grace to come as you are when life is chaotic and the pressure is on to set goals, goals, goals, these are gifts we can bestow on ourselves every single day.

Weekly Reading

Speaking of gifts, what could be better than a few good books?

Save the Cat! Writes a Novel. I have started my revising and editing course this week, and I have found this book on beats and scenes so helpful in terms of organizing my manuscript. I have work to do in the editing process but it all feels manageable, and I’m happy with my progress so far.

Worry. This was a wild, darkly funny satire about two sisters who end up living together in New York city. The older sister suffers from anxiety, hypochondria, and massive phone and Instagram addiction; the younger sister, who suffers depression and debilitating hives, moved in with her sister after a suicide attempt. Meanwhile, their mother, down in Florida, has become a Messianic Jew, doomsday prepper, and pyramid-seller of essential oils. There is almost no plot, but instead a statement about life in 2019, about codependency and sisterhood, about the numbness of internet connections. I loved it but it is satire; it’s like David Sedaris meets Hello Beautiful meets Prozac Nation meets Momfluenced in the weirdest way possible. It’s bonkers and I loved it. 

Alphabetical Diaries. This is such a wild idea: the author took a decade’s worth of journals, put each line in a spreadsheet, and then sorted alphabetically. Each line. From every journal entry for a decade. The result was half a million words, which she edited down to a much more readable 60000. The result reads like a really long free-form prose poem. I couldn’t help but wonder if the amount of work that went into this project paid off, monetarily, but I guess one doesn’t go into writing for the money. Thanks to my friend Engie (HI ENGIE) for bringing this one to my attention!

I started writing this post just wanting to talk about my views about yoga, and now I’m thinking – let’s make it a real challenge! Who wants in to my Yoga Club? To join, you have to a) commit to at least sixty seconds of a stretch or sitting in silent meditation once a day, and b) practice loving-kindness towards yourself if you miss a day. It’s a practice, not perfection! And since I do miss that aspect of teaching, if anyone ever has questions about postures and their variations, please send me a message. I’d be more than happy to share what I’ve learned through the years. xo