I want to have a nap...

But because I'm waiting for my dad to pick up our stockpiled garbage on his way home, I have to stay awake. For those free of the 3 month lament that is living in Vancouver, there's a civic strike, therefore no garbage pickup. For the most part I send it home with Morgan after tutoring - I like the idea of prolonging her suffering, first it's Keq reactions, then it's the vegan's stinky garbage - which when you look at it, really isn't that stinky - it's grains, fruit and veggies - no rotting carcasses or anything like that. So to stay awake for at least next 15 minutes - I've got Shaun Groves (Damage Done - I too have the spiritual gift...) on again, yes again - since I can't listen to him while I'm at Starbucks (no Internet) I listen to him at home. At Starbucks I can shuffle through the IPod collection, focusing on FortMinor and Linkin Park as of late - the other stuff is too mellow, sappy, something - not that I really like the other stuff anyways, though Kelly Clarkson's new one - Don't Waste Your Time - that is making me considering purchasing her new CD.

Regardless the point is while I was attempting to protest the lack of readership/comments - I started blogging independent of my Internet connection, aka journaling, on the topic of Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamont, which I stole from Leaha. . .here's what occurred:

"It turned out that this man worked for the Dalai Lama. And he said – gently – that they believe when a lot of things start going wrong all at once, it is to protect something big and lovely that is trying to get itself born – and that this something needs for you to be distracted so that it can be born perfectly as possible." I read, it and then read it again – the chill reoccurred – I hopped out of bed, grabbed my housecoat and popped my head into Leaha’s room – I love this book, I love this book – my arms covered in goose bumps.

Anne is my Elihu, my Ananias. She says “I couldn’t understand why as usual God couldn’t give me a loud or obvious answer, through a megaphone or thunder, skywriting or stigmata. Why does God always use dreams, intuition, memory, phone calls, vague stirrings in my heart. I would say that this really doesn’t work for me at all. Except it does." A frustrated amen spurted out after reading that passage.

Our hearts and hands do not bear the same scars – I’ve never been an alcoholic, drug user or an atheist - that's not to say I won't, just don't plan on it right now. I have been assaulted, suicidal and lost amidst a snow globe-esque storm for at least the last year, with not only debris flying but the whole world shaking. There is something in the soul that has borne pain, brought it forth through a labour of sweats, sorrow and swearing that whispers through eyes or words – let’s sit here. Silence is not silence when there is someone in the room – a presence, your last line of defense – call it what you will. He has spoken through Shane, Anne and the infectious laughter of Leaha and even, yes even Jordan – the pain is worth the thunder. The labour pains have been steady as of late – nothing is coming, the dilation has ceased. If anything a part of me is concerned they’ve died down – has what I was to be died within me? Snuffed out by my raging with God, misdirected my energy from the birth to the belligerence? Crazy I know - bring on more pain and chaos - can't we jump start this process again, or has all this been some kind of spiritual Braxton Hicks. I started to think about that today – what could be being born, not that it would be much of a secret if I can see it happening. It is sure not a relationship, so what then? A career, in the loosest terms – is all this pain driving me towards a life concerned with solace, with silence, with compassion?

I’ve been looking a lot at the yoga program in Victoria – it looks amazing. I can see myself – in warrior and feeling the swelling of peace and power from my toes through my fingers – there is something in hearing the communal breathing of a group of people, focused on nothing else but wind – not on what they look like in downward dog, knowing that it’s just you – exhaustion is accepted, child’s pose a source of finite self forgiveness. Finite, not infinite, we live in a world of infinite personal forgiveness outside of practice, in practice you have to be aware, you can not deny the presence. In addition to the yoga practice I could go back east and become a yoga therapist - it's a Doctor of Naturopathic Medicine degree - just 25,000 and two years work - it however looks a little sketchy, I think I'd be better off spiritually if I channelled that money into Regent. I've been thinking more about Regent these days as I spend my time reading blogs from pastors in and out of the Emergent church and reading - Claiborne, Miller and now Lamont.

And yes like I mentioned to Joel a long, long time ago, I do plan on having some kind of step by step yoga posting - once I regain some of the lost flexibility I'll start with the basics - most likely with the lighting - I'll have to do it next summer - when I can do it outside - get Leaha or someone to take the pictures.