this city does things to me. it shapes a piece of my heart everytime I'm here. not a longing or a draw to be here forever. not a missing piece of me that can't be fulfilled. a memory that can't be shaken. a small twinge of happiness and fulfillment. the memories of things I can't relive. we never think it will ever be the last time.
Read Morelife changes
on slowing down.
Today, I set my alarm, woke up early (though - admittedly - not without hitting snooze a couple of times), and started my day. I went to the gym, I made some tea and had some breakfast, checked my kombucha babies and avocado plants that I started, and did some dishes. I went to the gym and walked for 20 minutes to work on my hip flexor injury that has been acting up again recently, and then did a quick 10 minutes of yoga to stretch and recentre. I showered and tidied up my room, and made more tea for my 'commute' to work. I piled my piles of 'things-to-do' in daily piles, based on what I could feasibly accomplish, and I made a phone call that I've been putting off forever. When I left for work (earlier than normal), I felt less rushed and more accomplished than most (all) mornings. When I was rushed to cross the street by the flashing red hand, I stopped, instead of running across the street. When I was slowed behind an older man walking with a cane down the stairs at the skytrain station, instead of switching 'lanes' I just walked at his pace (having small glimpses of what people felt like when walking behind me when I was with cane). I arrived at work with 15 minutes to spare, and feeling like I could breathe.
i told myself a couple of weeks ago, that i owed it to my overworked, overstressed and exhausted mind, that even though i love to sleep in, i needed some time in the mornings to get my day (and life) figured out. and it's worked. while i detest my resolution in the moments when my alarm first (and second, and third and fourth) goes off, it's the moments when i'm up, and stretching and downward dogging, or in the moments when i'm having my first tea of the day NOT FROM A TRAVEL MUG, or when i'm doing morning yoga, and the sun is shining in on me (literally - i thought that was a funny joke, or exaggeration when people talked about this happening) - it's in those moments that i know it's all worth it.
i'd read lots about waking up early, and how the most successful entrepreneurs do it.... but to be honest, that wasn't it. it wasn't the success, or the inspirational promises of happiness that did it. it was the moments of running to the bus, splashing tea (in a travel mug) all over my jacket sleeve. it was the moments of staying up on my computer until midnight, and wishing i was in bed finishing work while everyone else in the world had finished their day. it was the bags under my eyes, and the inability to maximize on my time that was presented to me before work days that didn't begin until noon. all that time! just wasted.
and so it started. slowly. 15 minute increments at a time. 15 minutes one week, another 15 minutes the next. and lo and behold, i - the person who can sleep until 2pm on a weekday - was getting up between 8 and 8:30 every morning. by choice.
and so it started. slowly. 15 minute increments at a time. 15 minutes one week, another 15 minutes the next. and lo and behold, i - the person who can sleep until 2pm on a weekday - was getting up between 8 and 8:30 every morning. by choice.
small moments of happiness. i'm learning to embrace them - especially the ones that come as a result of a change that i've had to intentionally move forward with. giving myself thanks for time that seems to have appeared out of nowhere.
reflections
a friend of mine posted on my facebook wall today.
she posted a quote, and when i began reading it, i thought that she was posting it in motivation - i have been (in all honesty) struggling with the big move, finding an apartment, and finding a job. not so muh the strugle itself - the tangible things. i'm sure an apartment will come (we've only been looking a week), and i'm sure a job will come soon enough as well.
it was a quote i had written myself. according to her, i had written it 5 years ago, and i had referred to visiting vancouver. i needed to know. i needed to see for myself.
sure enough.... one of my first entries was in regards to starting my full time job. my full time office job, right after school.
"we start to question our every actions: am i making the right decision? am i selling out? am i forgetting where i came from? where will i be in 5 years? how will i know when to move on?
that questioning takes a toll on a persons confidence - not only in themselves, but in everything they think they knew.... life throws things at you. you duck, dodge, etc. i think i've managed to be hit square in the jaw."and my worries, about not being able to have time to visit vancouver.
i guess, sometimes, we all just need a bit of reassurance. even if that comes from ourselves.
she posted a quote, and when i began reading it, i thought that she was posting it in motivation - i have been (in all honesty) struggling with the big move, finding an apartment, and finding a job. not so muh the strugle itself - the tangible things. i'm sure an apartment will come (we've only been looking a week), and i'm sure a job will come soon enough as well.
it's the other things. the distance, the uncertainty, the self doubt (the enemy).
so i started reading this quote. and then she wrote: "you wrote that (ironically) 5 years ago. two weeks before this, you were worried you were always going to have to ask for time off so you could visit... vancouver. living the dream! :) xo"it was a quote i had written myself. according to her, i had written it 5 years ago, and i had referred to visiting vancouver. i needed to know. i needed to see for myself.
arriving in vancouver (photo by me)
sure enough.... one of my first entries was in regards to starting my full time job. my full time office job, right after school.
"we start to question our every actions: am i making the right decision? am i selling out? am i forgetting where i came from? where will i be in 5 years? how will i know when to move on?
that questioning takes a toll on a persons confidence - not only in themselves, but in everything they think they knew.... life throws things at you. you duck, dodge, etc. i think i've managed to be hit square in the jaw."and my worries, about not being able to have time to visit vancouver.
i guess, sometimes, we all just need a bit of reassurance. even if that comes from ourselves.
a little travel plan
oh hey guys. i didn't see you sitting there.
me? oh nothing. just moving across the country.
i'll be back soon. and maybe if i catch the luck of some wifi while roadtripping across canada, i'll share some photos.
in the meantime... here are some things so you don't miss me immensely.
i'll be tweeting my way across canada. i'll likely be posting some photos to instagram.
and, if you so desire, you can try to figure out why i'm doing what i'm doing.
if you're ever left with any doubt. what you'll live with, and what you'll do without.
people have been asking why i'm leaving, and what brought me to the decision to move across the country with nothing. so, before i leave, and while i still have a bit of time, i'll spend a few blog posts explaining. this is my fourth entry, on what i'm taking with me and reflections on 'things' in the process.
perhaps at the most appropriate time. i post this, on the day i leave toronto indefinitely.
we all have stuff. we all have things we love, things we admire, things we associate with people, and things we can't - for the life of us - get rid of. the things that really mean nothing at all, and yet we can't part with. the knick knacks, and the tickets from inconsequential moments. the rocks and seashells, and the magnets from road side stops. the small momentos that remind us of moments and places and things.
of course there's the other part of 'stuff'. and the part that was one of the more challenging to admit to myself in my packing adventure. sometimes stuff isn't tangible. sometimes stuff is that feeling you get when you pass that restaurant; that butterfly in your stomach you feel when you walk that specific way to work; the sadness that you can't keep away when you sit in that exact spot on your couch. the memories you collect like possessions when you truly live in a place. all that stuff is much easier to leave behind when you aren't faced with that particular restaurant, that particular walk to work, or that particular spot on your couch.
some would call it running away. and i'm not going to come up with some reason why it's growing and shedding, or some philosophical reason that i'm collecting and burying those memories and feelings deep in my subconscious. but i will say this: sometimes the couch, the bed and the dresser are much easier to leave behind than the reason why you can't wear that shirt anymore.
so, i packed up my life. i packed up the things, and the memories i most wanted to take with me. there were things i needed - clothes, medications, income tax papers, and other things that a real life grown up can't seem to live without - but then, there were things i knew i didn't need. things that i could replace, in time... but things that i wanted. there were simple things, like a can opener that i wasn't willing to part with - because anyone who knows can openers, knows buying one that works, at a reasonable cost, is a complete pain in the neck. things like plates that could be replaced, but if there was room, why not bring them? and, there were more complex things. things like a ticket from the carrick-a-rede bridge my mom and i crossed in ireland, that meant her conquering her fear of heights. things like a small oscar wilde notebook that my friend gave me (along with a few other moleskines), with the encouraging words 'just write'. things that meant enough, brought about enough of a memory, that while packing, they made me stop. think. and smile. nostalgia in the most strengthening and building way possible.
so, i allowed for one container. one small container that was for special things, in my packing. a small paper globe, a hanging paper bird garland, some antique bluebird salt and pepper shakers from my grandma, a starbucks mug from my first (and very life changing) visit to seattle... all things that weren't particularly useful, or practical to pick up and move... but things that meant something.
the rest was tossed. the papers, the photos i could reprint. the ticket stubs from multiple versions of trips, the cards, the clothes, and the home things (blankets, pillows, comforters). though those things for me contained memories, it is those things we need to leave behind. we need to leave in place, and move forward without them holding us back. because while those things can hold those memories, they are not our only sources of them.... they are simply momentos in time, reminding us, and triggering. we still hold those thoughts, memories, and feelings that we have always had. and the wonderful thing about letting go of those things that remind us? the reminders that have been acting as anchors? we can choose to simply let them go.
what is it about things, that causes us such fear, hope, happiness, and recollection? things that are material, that evoke the most immaterial thoughts and feelings within us... so much so, that we simply can't let go?
the thing is, our things don't make our lives. the things we buy, and collect, store, organize... those things aren't the things that make us, us. those things decorate our lives - much in the way that our clothes, our hair, our style, and our talk elaborate on the people we want to be. but at the end of it all, it is we, who make ourselves. and starting fresh - ridding ourselves of the tangible things that we have held onto - may be exactly what we need to begin new. starting on new memories and feelings, while bringing with us the good.
but hey.... the blue bird salt and pepper shakers that remind me of grandma's infectious laugh, can't hurt, can it?
......................................................................................
(insert sad song playing in the background here. in fact, feel free to hit play on your fave sad song for reading).
i have to admit. i have written this in pieces. mostly during times while procrastinating from packing. it may seem as though that makes it less meaningful, or less genuine. but in fact, the packing was what brought this about. what caused all the thoughts i knew i had to think, and feel about 'things' and what they all mean. we all have stuff. we all have things we love, things we admire, things we associate with people, and things we can't - for the life of us - get rid of. the things that really mean nothing at all, and yet we can't part with. the knick knacks, and the tickets from inconsequential moments. the rocks and seashells, and the magnets from road side stops. the small momentos that remind us of moments and places and things.
of course there's the other part of 'stuff'. and the part that was one of the more challenging to admit to myself in my packing adventure. sometimes stuff isn't tangible. sometimes stuff is that feeling you get when you pass that restaurant; that butterfly in your stomach you feel when you walk that specific way to work; the sadness that you can't keep away when you sit in that exact spot on your couch. the memories you collect like possessions when you truly live in a place. all that stuff is much easier to leave behind when you aren't faced with that particular restaurant, that particular walk to work, or that particular spot on your couch.
some would call it running away. and i'm not going to come up with some reason why it's growing and shedding, or some philosophical reason that i'm collecting and burying those memories and feelings deep in my subconscious. but i will say this: sometimes the couch, the bed and the dresser are much easier to leave behind than the reason why you can't wear that shirt anymore.
so, i packed up my life. i packed up the things, and the memories i most wanted to take with me. there were things i needed - clothes, medications, income tax papers, and other things that a real life grown up can't seem to live without - but then, there were things i knew i didn't need. things that i could replace, in time... but things that i wanted. there were simple things, like a can opener that i wasn't willing to part with - because anyone who knows can openers, knows buying one that works, at a reasonable cost, is a complete pain in the neck. things like plates that could be replaced, but if there was room, why not bring them? and, there were more complex things. things like a ticket from the carrick-a-rede bridge my mom and i crossed in ireland, that meant her conquering her fear of heights. things like a small oscar wilde notebook that my friend gave me (along with a few other moleskines), with the encouraging words 'just write'. things that meant enough, brought about enough of a memory, that while packing, they made me stop. think. and smile. nostalgia in the most strengthening and building way possible.
so, i allowed for one container. one small container that was for special things, in my packing. a small paper globe, a hanging paper bird garland, some antique bluebird salt and pepper shakers from my grandma, a starbucks mug from my first (and very life changing) visit to seattle... all things that weren't particularly useful, or practical to pick up and move... but things that meant something.
the rest was tossed. the papers, the photos i could reprint. the ticket stubs from multiple versions of trips, the cards, the clothes, and the home things (blankets, pillows, comforters). though those things for me contained memories, it is those things we need to leave behind. we need to leave in place, and move forward without them holding us back. because while those things can hold those memories, they are not our only sources of them.... they are simply momentos in time, reminding us, and triggering. we still hold those thoughts, memories, and feelings that we have always had. and the wonderful thing about letting go of those things that remind us? the reminders that have been acting as anchors? we can choose to simply let them go.
what is it about things, that causes us such fear, hope, happiness, and recollection? things that are material, that evoke the most immaterial thoughts and feelings within us... so much so, that we simply can't let go?
"maybe the past is like an anchor holding us back. maybe you have to let go of who you were, to become who you will be"
but hey.... the blue bird salt and pepper shakers that remind me of grandma's infectious laugh, can't hurt, can it?
check out the rest of my reflections on moving