Hey, you, get off of my mat!

Nothing like a Rosedale yoga class to get your blood boiling.

Yeah, I know - this isn't what you'd expect from yoga, but hear me out.

There is a core group of women who attend the class I like to take on Sundays. They seem to know each other or have come to know each other through the class.

Most people spend the time before a class begins lying on their mat, practicing their breathing and calming their minds. Not these ladies.

They show little consideration for other students in the studio and stand around gabbing to each other without a thought about the people trying to relax before the class starts.

When they get props - blocks, bolsters or straps - from one of the double closets that line the south side of the studio, they leave the doors wide open. Who cares about the person sitting near the closets?

But their bad behaviour doesn't end there. They also walk across other people's mats - mine included - on their way to-and-from the closet!

Clearly, they don't know the significance of the mat, and probably see it as mere padding for the knees.

The yoga mat is my practice space, a clearly delineated haven where I come face-to-face with my thoughts and delusions. In this way, it is a sacred space, and unlike the mat in the front foyer of one's home, it is not intended for people to trod across mindlessly.

So, hey, you - get off of my mat!

Wahoo - Jan Wong!

I just read the latest post on Lizz Bryce's blog, A letter to Jan Wong.  It seems Lizz's reply to a Jan Wong article, Get off the Road ... (September issue, Toronto Life), was printed in the Nov. issue.

I haven't read the Wong article yet, but judging from Lizz's reply and the comments posted on the TL website, it looks like Wong has drawn the ire of Lizz and a host of pissed-off Torontonians!


Stay tuned ... I'm going to read the article, see what's causing all the fuss!

Ten Ten Ten: Just another day!

Yesterday was October 10, 2010, or 10 | 10 | 10 as the news reporters and the superstitious like to say.

It is novel, but does it really make a difference that the day, month and year are all the same number? I think there are 2 more left (11-11-11 and 12-12-12) and that's if for a long time.

Some people planned the birth of their child to fall on this day (by caesarean if necessary!), City Hall even performed marriage ceremonies - unusual because they don't normally work on a Sunday.

The claim is that 10 | 10 | 10 suggests perfection, a wholeness because it contains the other numbers 1 through 9, but for me, it makes me think of binary code. On, off, on, off ...

I spent most of it walking the Waterfront Trail from Neville Park to Rosetta McClain Gardens.

I brought my camera along with me, as I usually do when I when I go for a walk. I didn't see perfection - at least I don't think I did (would I know it if I saw it?), but I did see some pretty ordinary things.

The Brothers Manning

Tonight, Peyton the elder and his Indianapolis Colts are pitted against Eli the younger and his New York Giants in what is being called Manning Bowl II.

The Brothers Manning always attract a lot of hype. They come from football royalty, both are professional quarterbacks, each sports a Super Bowl ring, Peyton has four MVPs to Eli's one. And, both have appeared in my dreams!

Yes, that's right. Last December while vacationing in Costa Rica I had a dream that Peyton and Eli needed a place to stay and until I came along and offered them lodging in my villa!

I had come back to my villa (the villa in my dreams, I wasn't actually staying in a villa!) and found the Brothers Manning sleeping on lounge chairs around the pool. Apparently, there were no rooms available anywhere in the area and the boys decided to camp out by the pool.

I think I was harbouring impure thoughts about Eli. But I digress ... we're both married and nothing good could ever come of it, sorry Eli.

So, like any football fan, whether hardcore or not, I'm going to weigh in on tonight's sibling rivalry match-up. Although the odds makers and sports prophets are choosing the Colts - some citing a need to overcome their loss to Houston last week - I'm choosing Eli and the Giants. It won't be easy, but I think they can pull it off.

Why? You might be asking?

Look at this US government photo taken of Eli. The presidential seal appears over Eli's head like a halo.  I think it's a sign. Perhaps it has something to do with a divine ability to throw a football. Maybe it says something about Eli's fans - football players are always thanking god, Jesus and their fans.

Either way, Eli is cute and I think it's a good sign. Go Giants!!

Mittengate

 It seems my friend Laura is still reading my blog! She asked me to share the following post ...

I'm still here!

I also spend a lot of time in my head, only to be "jolted" back to reality
by stark images such as the photo Kelly shared, human oddities (in
particular, subway behaviour) and the occasional request for directions.

Here is one such story.

One day while at work I went to the bathroom. I opened the stall only to see
a pair of mittens (see attached picture). I'm sure you could imagine my
shock. And the questions...why were there two mittens, one floating in the
toilet, one on the floor? How did they get there? Was it done on purpose?
Was it some kind of statement? Did one fall out a coat pocket into the
toilet during an attempt to use the washroom without removing the coat? Was
the fact that one ended up in the toilet the reason why both were abandoned?
Surely the one of the floor could be easily picked up.

I went back to my desk and sent an email to the entire office. I attached
the picture and requested that the owner of these mittens retrieve them,
after all, the mittens had been kind throughout the winter, doing their job,
protecting the hands of the owner from the cold Canadian climate. No
response but the mittens did disappear by day's end.

I received some responses appreciating my efforts. I never found out
anything more. This incident, henceforth known as "mitten gate", and their
owner was never discussed or identified.

-- Laura

The Everyday Redux

A while ago I received an email from my friend Laura. During our communication she mentioned she was following my blog. (Yeah !! A follower!)

At the time I realized two things that still hold today. The first, that I haven't been keeping up with my blog and second, that I have been living in my head again!

Again, I find myself going back-and-forth, to-and-fro without a thought to what I was actually doing.

My everyday existence has become overwhelmed by the crowd of internal gibberish.  Not a meaningful thought in the entire morass that has been the activity of my mind. I've been moving through the everyday without a seeing a thing, even though there is much to see.

This experience has reminded me of a photograph I took - the one you see here. I recall when I took this, where and why. It was in the summer of 2004, along a stretch of College St, between University Ave and McCaul St.

I was marching along in my usual manner, thinking about work, anticipating what was going to happen, planning for these imagined events and then inventing contingencies, in case things didn't go as I planned. It wasn't that anything pressing was going on that day, this was (and still is) just my mind in action.

I continued to walk along College St, my body in one place, my mind already at my destination - when suddenly out of nowhere this mass of rusty staples and bits of paper attached to a hydro pole jumped out at me.

Of all the times I walked that route, this was the first time I noticed the pattern, texture and colour that comprised this small space on the hydro pole.

In that moment I realized how often I overlook the awesome details of everyday life because I am consumed by my own mental activity.

If there is one thing this blog reveals, by virtue of the infrequent posts, is that I'm still being managed by discursive thinking and not available to appreciate the everyday.

Paralyzed by boredom

Siegfried Kracauer wrote a terrific short essay entitled, Boredom.  In it he writes, “People today who still have time for boredom and yet are not bored are certainly just as boring as those who never get around to being bored.”

If I understand Kracauer's meaning, then I was the least boring person on the face of the planet yesterday. The whole of last week - and I only worked 4 days! - passed by without incident, or much else. It was an exercise in how to look like you're doing something when you have nothing to do.

I know trying to fill time goes against Kracauer's intent, yet I can't imagine my boss would be too thrilled to find me at my desk, sitting idle, reflecting on the emptiness of the hours as they passed by.

So, I found some stuff to do. The sort of unimportant tasks you spend more time procrastinating than it would take to get them done.

Then, when a moment like last week happens, you say to yourself, "might as well." Just the thought of giving an account of these tasks, even the briefest one, causes my eyes to glaze over, so I'll leave what they were to your imagination.

Finally, the week came to a close. I arrived home on Friday around 5pm. Sat on the couch and realized I used my last ounce of energy to get there. I was now paralyzed.

My mind and body felt like an oozy, heavy mass. Quicksand. Neither dynamic or solid, just a glob of life sucking mess!

Boredom spent trying to be busy really sucks the life out of you. It's exhausting. I was more tired from doing nothing than I would have been had I been really busy.

I think what's fascinating about boredom- in the same way you can't help looking when driving by an accident scene - is it's banality. Nothing screams "mundane" like boredom - a scream that emanates from inside your body.

At first you think there isn't anything harmful about being bored. It's not like train surfing or smoking, no doubt two activities taken up to combat boredom.

Yet, believing boredom is harmless is what makes it harmful. So, next time you're bored, reflect on the experience. Believe it or not, you're lucky. Imagine being bored and not knowing it.