Feeling: MY LIFE
Mate. Have I been silent lately or what.
First off, how is it towards-the-end of March already? Feels like this morning it was 2015, let alone Jan the first. I’m closer to the next age in my life than I was to turning what I am now (did you follow that? As in I’m closer to 27 than I am to becoming 26 – gross) and the sun is starting to set at 7.27pm (the weather app told me so).
Where is 2018 going?!
Well, well so far, I must say. I’ve been BUSY. And I mean BUSY. Weddings every weekend (sometimes two), taking a good seven plus yoga classes a week, kickstarting the freelance writing branch of things and finding there is quite a demand for content creation and editing. All alongside jamming around at the clothes shop (purely to fund the wardrobe, I must admit) and house sitting up a tornado (April through May to June sees me bouncing around a whole handful of different addresses).
And I’m thriving on it.
Though sometimes I must say, that calm demeanour is purely on the outwards. I look at my daily to-do in my diary for the upcoming week and feel panic surge through my bod and a bit of heartburn tug at the old aorta (an aside: did you know heartburn is not actually a burning heart? Not at all. It’s actually acid regurgitation in the oesophagus, nothing to do with the pumping chamber). But then I take a deep breath (always through the nose, never the mouth), tell myself my mantra, I have plenty of time, then make The Pedaller tell me I’m being stupid and to chill the fuck out.
The yoga? I love it. Absolutely fizz it in every single way. Constructing my classes, downloading zenny yoga songs, practising my sequences behind the counter at work when no one is in the shop – I’m like an Australian cappuccino (just frothing). Especially the men’s and pregnant girls classes (just to clarify, those are two separate sessions; the males and with-child lasses aren’t all in one) – just the banter amongst the boys and limbering out the growing girls gives a bit more variety to my week.
I must say, before my first proper, official class I was just existing as a frisson of nerves. Every morning I would wake up (after I finally got to sleep), turn to The Pedaller and beg him to tell me it was all going to be fine. Dreams about all my students walking out, about another teacher coming along and piping up, “You’re shit!” from the back, forgetting my plan midway through and freezing in a very unattractive happy baby; the Rescue Remedy and herbal Go Stress Release pills were on ultimate dosage. And the Wednesday of taking my first class I was beyond anxious to the point of terrified – “Don’t talk to me,” I instructed Mummy Deb as I ran over my sequence for the zillionth time since 4pm. I even fantasised about breaking my leg so I would have a decent, plausible excuse to pull out.
But I needn’t have worried; once I got over my sudden mental block two minutes in as to what was coming after cat-cow, I was away. And I’ve been away ever since. It’s funny, I’m learning a lot more about teaching now that I actually am than I ever did in my teachers training course. And I’ve realised I know a hell of a lot; exactly where your body weight is meant to be in every pose, which area you’re meant to be feeling the stretch in, how to modify a position down for someone who can’t quite get there. The answers are all colour-coded and filed away in my brain. And I’ve found my voice too; challenging my people into asanas with a bit of banter and a few (I hope) insightful sayings – it’s Yogi Pop.
Plus, it’s teaching me more than that. I’m learning not to bang it all out in one class: what with seeing my students once a week, every week for the next six months or so, I can’t cram every class full of everything. I need to keep things fresh, and that means injecting new stuff each week, rather than rushing to get it all done as soon as. I’m also learning to read the energy of the class and act on the cuff; I watch how everyone’s bodies are in salutations, and realise that the reverse tabletop sequence just isn’t going to work, and we need to get into hammys instead.
But I know how things flow. How to change it up on the spot in a logical and anatomically safe way that comes across as if that’s how it was always meant to be. I can read people’s bodies and know exactly where they’re tight and have an issue, and give them variations to keep their knees/shoulder/lower back away from injury.
And I feel confident in what I do – yoga can take a million myriad forms, and not everyone is going to like exactly the way I do things. And it’s ok if someone wants softer direction or a slower class, meaning a different teacher; I’m starting to finally embrace the fact of life that you cannot please every single person.
Wedding front? Still loving it. Unified my first same-sex couple two weeks ago (congrats, Mrs and Mrs Hawkins) with another two brides announced as wives the following Friday. I officiated a wedding Saturday just been that would be up there as one of my favourites (the couple were so in tune and so full of love for each other, even I got teary as they said their vows) and have my last one for the season tomorrow. I’m somewhat sad the 2017/2018 lot are through, but I feel I can breath a bit of relief as I hang up my clipboard and chuck out my trusty season shoes (a bit worse for wear now) with having a bit more time on my side.
April is pen to paper (well, fingertips to keyboard) (lappy, not piano type) as I really do sink right into finishing Seedless Green Grapes. I know I know, I say this all the time, but it was always the plan to jam out the summer with weddings and then hermit myself away for the winter to complete it all off. I’m almost up to editing stage which is super exciting, and I feel the five month break since being back (how is it that long already?!) has set me in super good stead. I just keep visualising printing the whole lot off upon completion and taking it in to my backer – the one who made it all possible – slamming it on his desk and saying, “Get a bit of that into yah.” (Two years later than I’d originally wanted, but the subject matter definitely proved a bit challenging to tackle).
And my wee freelancing business is really starting to take off: the jobs are coming thick and fast, and I am oh so happy with my name – Write On. Because it is, and that’s what I’m really doing (I’ll never get past a pun).
What else? Well, I had a mass mere with the old phone screen and it cracked up well and truly. Then a night out on the wines saw a mighty fall of the phone which resulted in it spasming out and sending emails, messages and photos to all and sundry in my contacts. For any of you who got added into group chats and sent photos of the nephew Hendrik I do it apologise; it wasn’t a case of bing a bottle deep as many people thought, but purely my phone’s touch sensors having a mind of their own. My phone even put up a blog post on my behalf – titled “diiiiiigajkdbs”, it had no spiel to follow and was deleted via the lappy as soon as I realised. Phone now fixed and no more eclectic group chats.
I read a quote last night as I lay in bed with a book (The Pedaller watching motorbike videos beside me, as per. Lucky I’ve trained myself to find racing engine noises soothing). It said, “At the end of the day it’s just you. Make sure you like the person you’re alone with.” And I realised I’m quite ok being on my own with myself. Sure, there are aspects of me I’d like to tweak and change somewhat – and I’m working on them – but for the most part, I’ve eradicated a fair bit of the areas I wasn’t so fond of. And I’m proud I’m truly starting to create the lifestyle I always wanted for myself – girlboss and nurturing my talents, rather than just going to bed at night wishing I had the belief to back myself.
Promise I won’t keep it so long before my next post – had a fair few people asking why’d I gone quiet. Never fear though – it’s my first full winter in almost six years, so I can imagine many a night in my jim jams speiling up a storm. And I’m heading to Commonwealth Games week after next (as a supporter, I shall clarify, though I’m doubtful you at all took from that that I may be competing), so I may have some material to share from that.
I’m excited about what the next year or two will bring – there’s a fair few avenues it could really go. But I know whichever way, I’ll be sun-saluting, bridal-party-bossing and paragraph-rewording all the way down the street – with the boy on the bike right by my side.