There is something very soothing about the life I live here in this city. I wake up, I feed Beatrice and help her to dress. I play with Margaret, I get her fed, dressed and ready for school. I run. I go to yoga. I meditate. I spend time surrounded by my family, being crawled on by little girls.
Margaret, the eldest, will reach out and run her hand down my hair. "It's so soft, Aunt Rebecca." Beatrice, the younger, will immediately follow suit. "Sowft, Aunta Becca. Sowft."
I attended a Bikram Yoga class this evening. I have been craving the rigidity of a Bikram practice lately. I suspect this is because I have fully embraced the fluidity of my own life at this moment, and am reveling in it. Balance is required, and I find the yin to my yang to generally be the yoga to my life. I crave vinyasa flow and Kundalini when my life is expected and according to plan. I crave Ashtanga, Iyengar and Bikram when everything is following some plan I neither understand nor want to.idioglossia
also attended this class with me. It was her First Ever Yoga Class. She was a natural, and I will convince her to return again - despite her claims that I tried to kill her with Bikram Yoga.
My run today was brilliant, in a way I'm not entirely certain I can explain. It wasn't effortless. I wasn't running particularly quickly. About 4 miles in my calf started acting up a bit, and I altered my stride, so I was running raggedly. There is something about running down the canal, though. I see children with their parents, skating sloppily. Friends stopping in the middle of the canal to chat. Couples skating along hand in hand, slowly, lost in the other. Girls who have never skated before clinging to each other, screeching with laughter. Many, many people on their hands and knees, or flat on their backs after taking a spill.
There is so much life along the canal in the winter. So much laughter, and fun. People full of joy. Outdoors, in the middle of winter - even if it isn't cold - living. The canal in Ottawa will always make me think of living.