On a Sunday evening a couple weeks ago, I got stuck in an elevator with a friend and his six-year-old kid. Panic was inevitable.
My anxiety transformed into a super power in that elevator, though (so much practice halting my own downward spirals!). And I wanted to share the straightforward trick that helped me and that six-year-old avoid a full meltdown.
I probably spend most of my waking hours rounding forward — staring at computer screens, bending over a pan on the stove, hunching over my phone or any of a million other tasks. It’s not great for posture and the downward position also tends to tug down my thoughts and emotions, too.
The yoga antidote is supported fish, a lovely, well-propped, chest-opening posture.
At the beginning of September, I shouldered a bag and hopped a train from Zürich to Paris, the first of many trains as I travelled to York and Kent in England and on to Antwerp. The Interrail app tells me I took 14 trains over 2,779kms and logged more than 22 hours on the rails.
The big draw in York was the Festival of Writing, where I hoped to get feedback on my novel-in-progress, and finally visit the school where I did my two-year Postgrad Diploma in Creative Writing. Tacking on some sight-seeing afterwards, plus catching up with friends in southern England and Belgium, rounded out a week and a half of travel.
I completed my PGDip coursework at the end of June. (phew) And earned a more-than-satisfactory grade on my final assessment. (giant phew) Which means I’ll probably graduate from my two-year creative writing program with distinction. (giant yay!)
Now that I’m free of assigned texts or genres, my tastes have morphed to creative nonfiction — at least for short-form pieces, I’m devouring not-too-serious novels, too.*
My knee situation* continues to make some of my favourite yoga positions less than awesome (I’m looking at you, child’s pose), but thankfully there are plenty of ways to modify — and lots of alternatives.
My current favourite is a restorative version of crocodile, with plenty of support and no scary teeth!
People celebrated 70 years of Queen Elizabeth II on the throne last weekend with street parties (it looked cold in the UK!), reminiscences about her reign (like this secret 1970s lawn chair party in Manitoba), scones and Pimm’s, and staggeringly expensive memorabilia.
My memories related to Liz are much more, um, visceral. Yes, I mean related to intestines or digestion.