One Year

My phone lit up as an email appeared on the screen, “Happy one year anniversary from WordPress!”

I smiled. As someone who gets excited for the beginning of every month, if only for the feeling of a fresh start, I also love anniversaries. There’s something comforting about reflecting on the past year, taking the bad with the good and knowing that you got through it all.

I remember this time, last year. I was sitting on my bed, wholly ready to say goodbye to 2016. It was a rough year, and I believed starting a blog to put all my thoughts onto a screen might be a therapeutic way to communicate with the rest of the world.

In comparison, 2017 was a wonderful year. Future plans took a turn when I was accepted into a school program, and I was fortunate to meet a lot of new friends. The summer was a little rocky, especially after a deer tried to hitch a ride in Alberta and
I was left to start a new semester at school and juggle venturing back west to retrieve my (almost) fixed car. I said goodbye to my twenties, and welcomed another decade that I could only hope would provide me with as much growth as the last one did. I discovered a different way to look at myself, one which lead to rethinking what I needed to do to feel good about myself. The beginning of autumn showed me someone new, someone that I would meet for the first time at my favourite place, someone who I could laugh with, someone who felt like home.

It was also a busy year. Juggling school, work, yoga, and something as close to a social life as I could squeeze in didn’t leave me much time to sleep, but every morning that I opened my eyes to the jarring sound of my phone alarm, I still smiled. If this year has taught me anything, it was that patience and acceptance are wildly underrated in today’s world. The accident taught me that sometimes things are out of my hands, and while I can do as much groaning and fixating on things as I want, it isn’t going to change anything.

And that’s where acceptance comes in.

For all the worrying, all the internal angst, all the walls that I put up to protect myself, they were all for naught. I’ve read countless books, had endless conversations with friends, and have done enough research in the pursuit of true happiness to last a year, while the gracious, simplistic answer sat patiently in front of me, waiting.

I have heard “let it go” a thousand times, I’ve read and have been reminded by friends about observing your thoughts instead of trying to push them away, and accepting everything, even the bad stuff.

It is, as most things are, a work in progress. Sometimes I feel like I’m zipping along a highway, making great time and sailing along seamlessly. Other days it’s like I’ve hit a bump, and I might stop by the side of the road to catch my breath a bit. But I suppose that’s all part of figuring it out.

I’ve also learned, from this year filled with new adventures, to be grateful every day. The good stuff, the bad stuff, all the stuff in between, it lead me to right now. And as I sit here, a little tired, a little broke, but still happy, I wouldn’t change a thing that happened in the past year. Not because it wouldn’t make things easier, or even a little less stressful, but because it got me to this exact spot, this exact moment in time; because it got me to right now.

And I wouldn’t trade now for anything.

 

Have a wonderful New Year,

Diane

 

Chicken Little

I glanced at the schedule on my laptop one more time. The morning yoga class I wanted to take was staring back at me, but every time the mouse got close to it, I moved it away.

You see, this wasn’t the yoga class I was used to. Normally I grab a mat, find a spot at the very back of the class, and try to blend into the background so both the instructor and other students don’t see me doing the poses terribly, terribly wrong.

This was different. This was Mysore. In this class, the instructor teaches you a sequence of poses, and then assists you as you flow at your own pace. Slowly, week after week, you add more on, but you take as long as you need to move through the sequence.

The thought of being with a smaller group of people and the one-on-one instruction was intimidating, but with most new things in my life lately, I had a little push from a friend.

“Come on, chicken little! It won’t be scary, I promise!”

I had used almost every excuse known to mankind already, “I have to get up too early! The weather’s bad outside! North Korea’s doing something iffy! I can’t find my pants! I accidentally sang a rousing rendition of ‘My Heart Will Go On’ for 4 hours until 3 a.m. using a spatula as a microphone and now I need sleep!”

Alright, alright, I’ll go.

I opened the door and peered around the corner, as if putting only my head inside the building first would somehow calm my nerves. After managing to clearly communicate my name to the nice woman at the front desk, despite it being very early and having no caffeine pumping through my body, I walked over to the room.

Ok, ok. So there’s some people doing yoga, and they all most definitely look like they know what they’re doing. Oh boy. But, at least I’m in yoga pants. And not just *any* yoga pants, but frightfully expensive ones that I paid way too much for. That’s got to give me some credibility, right?

Alright, it wasn’t so bad. In fact, after the instructor introduced herself and gave me a rundown of what I would experience this first class, I genuinely enjoyed myself. I was so happy to have thorough instruction, especially in areas I had been practicing for years, but couldn’t quite figure out. By the end of it, I laid on my mat, blissfully in savasana, grateful that I knew someone who had the good sense to get me to that class.

Life is a state of constant change. Sometimes the steps you take are big, sometimes they’re little. But it’s just that first step, or in my case, making the rest of my body join my head in the yoga studio, that makes all the other steps seem a little easier.

I hope you’ve got people in your life that give you little pushes when you need them, and if not, I hope you find them.

Have a great week,

Diane