Before, my destination


Somewhere before my destination

before the point of no return

and way beyond the place which once resembled home

a couple hours away from cheap motel rented solace and sleepful oblivion

I found a diner on the edge of a forever sunset

The endangered neon sign called it the Mile Post

It had all the attractiveness of too much caked makeup and cheap menthol cigarettes

Even the cockroaches outside were busy getting ready for the midnight grease shift

I knew I’d be in good company soon

This was a spot where the dreams of travellers had come to rest

A sanctuary for endless fantasies filled with steamy drive in make out sessions

Hot california winds spinning pinwheels of dead highway sailors

Drenched in three hour heated coffee and stale sesame seed bun burgers

A Formica fiddlers green, worn down by the thousand tanned left arms of truckers

Ignoring the youthful transplanted tourists who got their first taste of objectivity

They shed their cloaks of ignorance for strange desserts in the desert

Laughing too loud to realize that the best conversation of their lives had just crossed their tongues

They consumed without tasting

I found a wobbly stool at the silver chromed counter, and asked for the blue plate special.

They were out of powdered gravy mix, but at least they knew what I was talking about.

Cheap paperback turning hands delivered a menu and surprisingly cool glass of water

She asked me where I was from.

I said, it’s more interesting to where I was going.

Towards something closer to yourself? Or further away? she asked genuinely interested

-That’s the beauty of found places like this, the more shallow of company, the deeper the conversation.

I winced, trying to stretch out the penanced thousand miles of vibration out of my spine

Rubbing the tunnels out of my eyes until the green and yellow neon blob monsters rewrote my cones

I drank the local water, inviting the rumor powered nightmares into my lower bowels.

The blue plate burned the back of my throat, too many heartfelt burned words stuck there

I promised that once I got the answers to Where I was Going, and Where I came from

I’d send her a postcard

With forgotten 50′s fonts telling her Wish You Weren’t Me but I Wish You Were Here

And maybe a Scratch and Win ticket from the Shambala Gift Shop and Information Emporium

Because mailed marketing promises are cheap

It’s a convenient commodity to ignore where you once came from

She smiled, the apple pie is on the house

I asked her what the view is like.

On the house, does it ever get quiet up there? Could you see the endless stream of lights, blurring together in endless firefly vectors?

She said it’s like peering into an experiment gone bad

Four generations of people looking through their TV shaped windows

They like that TV shape, it tells them bad calorie stories they can eat

They drive mechanical horse and carts consuming oil and gas, farting climate change

But they can’t be bothered to stop

They are too busy in their own heads

Looking for that next spot that reminds them of where they once were

Not really seeing the flowers that cling to the side of the road

But driving over them, and not going anywhere

The view my friend, is too real, that’s why I read cheap novels.

I have to know what the enemy is feeding the masses. Before I feed them.

-That’s the horror of trapped places like this, answering those questions that keep you up at 3AM

There was nothing else for me to say. I tipped my hat, I tipped the cashier, and then I tipped my nose to that spot on the horizon

-That’s the place, not even bottled medication or drink can stop the inevitability of yourself

This place moves you, allows and pushes you

The escape from the old and haunted with a bus ticket

Paid for by snapping those chains, and casting off the anchors of regret

The promise of a new place to excite and fatten my spiritual wallet

Somewhere in the orange glow of Ra’s embrace was where I had to be

The Road, she came with me, not that place inbetween places

But that familiar exciting scary monotonous movement that stretches out your soul

And she smiled knowing what I didn’t,

not where I was, not where I came from

But who I was going to be, when she was done with me

The Evils of Convenience


It starts out small.

Taking the easy way.

Doing what is least resistant as opposed to what could be a greater accomplishment.

We put in less energy and become complacent. We would rather spend more money on immediate gratification than making our own. And that includes purchasing food instead of growing our own. We pick a flavour of entertainment, which everyone else is choosing, instead of creating our own stories or music. We find a cheaper way of getting work hours completed instead of having a system that can sustain itself.

It’s convenience. And it will not help you in the long run. It’s the fast food of attitudes.

When convenience saturates everything everyday, from our thoughts and habits to all of our actions; we conveniently stop making room in ourselves for greater things. Because it is the easy way out.

And convenience has momentum. To stop doing what is easy, requires work.

Or does it?

Could it involve work? Or can change include play?

Work implies hard actions, grueling tasks, overbearing weight and strain with the risk of failure. Play allows you to try something, have fun, and be safe – no matter the consequence.

It is just the matter of changing what intent you use to fuel your thoughts and actions. Going into a routine with an attitude of despair, regret, fear will only bring you more of those things. Only if you bring an attitude of freedom and happiness will you see that in your future.

That little jog in thinking? Enjoy it. Get excited, play with the possibilities. Start thinking, start adding delight to your presence and you will be more grateful in the present.

You can change your self and your actions, but most important, your reactions. Start small, have fun, enjoy your mistakes. Success isn’t a destination, it’s a vehicle that you can drive with your work and play. It just all depends on what you choose to put into it.

 

I’m still here,
Pearce

Day 22 to Day 29 – On the Horizon (The Missing Yoga Post)


And now, the end is within sight. The way station is just ahead, a place of rest and reflection. People you have met along the way have shared tales of their own travels. You’ve had your own  journey, not stepping in their footsteps, but converging towards that one common gathering place. Every step, every stretch, every drop of sweat has been a success.

Working through the poses, finding the places that are tight; the tension identified. Working through the mental blocks and finding the vocabulary to say those words ‘I Can’ and ‘I am’.  Unexpected emotions and stress repressed then let go. The shift which allows the body to tighten here, strengthen there, let go of tightness there. Recognizing how to slow down a panicked heart beat, concentrating on nothing but the air going into the lungs, rising belly and falling. New perspective blossoms. The ego is outside of the yoga studio, leaving only movement and breath. Standing taller and not withdrawing from the world. It finally makes sense now. The flexibility advances in body and spirit. As the twig is bent, so grows the tree. I practice openly. Looking at every new day with fresh new eyes as a child. Ending the day with calm reflection of the good and the bad.  I share openly.

And all of this becomes comfortable. The ebb and flow of challenge and momentum.

The death of my procrastination occurred when I realized that it is easier to continue. Don’t stop. Making each habit, each observation, each action towards one of success. Even if it is the smallest of actions, I am doing it. Hesitation and living in fear will only stagnate me. I cannot grow that way. Making happy mistakes is the best teacher.

I find a certain calm zen peace with this. I have already succeeded, because I am succeeding and I will succeed in the future. And it is this attitude that I have found, that will help me. I will make mistakes towards success. I will continue to celebrate. I will take time to rest and allow these moments to wash over me. I will thank and cherish each moment.

I will also look back at these posts and wonder, ‘Why didn’t I do a second draft?’

Probably because I’m still catching up on laundry. And other things that I’ve neglected in the past 30 days. But not for much longer, I’m still moving.

Om still here,

Pearce

Day 30 – Crossing the Finish Line


It is not a matter of taking that last step across the finish line. It is not a matter of pushing yourself.

Every step is the last step. Every push is the last push. Every smile you take is the last one.

And the first.

What makes the largest difference is making yourself aware of the now. The present, and being in it.

And in times of stillness, reflecting on the mistakes, the strains, the sweaty parts (a lot of that) the realizations and new discoveries in exercising not only the body, but the places where the body holds onto stress. Reflection of this, is exercise for the spirit.

Opening of the body to new directions. Allowing myself to become so still that only my breath is being concentrated on. Committing myself to stay in position and flexing, pulling myself into new places while making my mind calm and still. Facing only myself in the reflection of the studio mirror, and facing my reflections of who I am. Finding out tolerances and limitations, places in body and spirit that need more attention.

Finding some way to manage all that laundry, cook up meals ahead of time, maintain a home business, full time job, writing articles, writing blog posts, writing fiction, sleeping and still commit to doing 1 class of hot yoga per day.

It’s been amazing.

30 Day challenge of Hot Yoga complete.

All thanks to this place.

For All Your Saskatoon Hot Yoga Needs

I’d like to thank Dallas, Steph and all the great instructors as well as the regular yogis who go to Hot Yoga on 20th. It’s a great community that has been built up in Saskatoon. If you are even travelling through and would like to get in on a class, don’t hesitate to check their schedule, give them a call, bring a friend. Try it out.

It’s just one step. And it might be the best one you ever take.

Om still here,
Pearce

P.S. You may have noticed there is a gap in the posts. Another post is coming up later on, which maybe more important than the last ‘recorded’ step for this challenge.

Day 29 – Girl, I wanna sweat you up…


I’ve tried to do it.

An extra towel.

An extra set of clothes.

Another water bottle.

Try another way of adapting my clothing so I won’t look like so many others. You’ve seen them. People in yoga tights carrying their mat and towel off to the studio. They come out more in the warmer seasons, spring, summer and fall. Only the true hardcore wear their yoga gear out in -40 weather. Usually under seventeen layers of clothing.

But there is a definite good reason for them wearing these clothes out in public.

Sweat.

Those who wear yoga clothing recreationally cannot benefit from the true engineering of a great set of yoga clothes. Go from a hot studio, to the change room, have a quick shower, and then into the next set of yoga clothes. You are going to sweat again, and again. If you were to switch back into regular clothing, you’d just sweat those up. And sweaty denim jeans is not comfortable. Sweaty yoga gear however, is still comfortable. So, mat, towel, water bottle, and a decent bunny hug. (The rest of the world calls these hoodies.)

I have tried it many times to go into one set of clothes, and for the 30 day challenge, I have finally given up on trying. I am going to sweat it out, even after a cool down shower, and return back to normal breathing. I have been the guy with the overflowing bag, towel, mat, coconut water, work clothes, sweats, deodorant, water bottle, toque, scarf, large mittens, sunglasses, and on occasion, my writing bag which includes netbook, two or three journals, latest book I’m reading, sketch book, spare hat…

See what I mean?

When it comes to this point, I have surrendered the clutter. I have simplified my daily yoga gear to the bare essentials. There have been days where I have not worn my winter coat outside, watching the steam come off my skin in minus 20, feeling amazing, letting my stretched out lungs embrace the icy clean air. Then jumping into my car, cranking the heat up, trying to melt the frozen droplets of sweat off my forearms.

So when you see that person on the bus. On the train, or going down the street, holding their mat and heading somewhere… they aren’t pushing a corporate statement of what yoga should be.

They are like most of us. Just tired of sweating up two sets of clothing.
Om still here,

Pearce

P.S. Day 29 was brutal. Humidity was up, old aches and pain blocks that were there on day one were coming up. It felt like the first time. And the temp was only 40. If you are doing a 30 day challenge, grab a set of shorts and top that you can rinse out overnight and hang up to dry. Two yoga towels are great to switch off with. Use one for 3 days, then launder it, use the other. Check in your local consignment/frugal/used clothing store. I found some retailing 200 nike shorts for 5 bucks.