My yoga teacher read this poem during our class this morning and it was so beautiful I had to share it. Hope you enjoy this Wednesday poem.
A few months ago I had an existential crisis while sitting in a hairdressers chair.
I went in all light and breezy, filled with that desire you get in the summertime to change things up. I came out three hours later less a few inches of hair, plus a balayage situation, and filled with crushing questions about how I’m choosing to live my life.
Seems about right, doesn’t it?
I’ve been meaning to write this post for weeks (OK fine, months) and the fact that I haven’t had time to do so yet is kind of perfect, actually. It’s fitting that the only time I’ve had time to write about our life is when a big piece of it is missing. Olive’s at her dad’s and I finally have some silence. Some space and room to think.
Each time I thought of sitting down to write this post I’d remember eight other articles that had to be completed first and on the rare occasions when my writing slate was clear I’d sit here and wonder what the hell a typical day in our life even looks like these days.
Pssst! If you’re new here at SweetMadeleine, this post (like most posts, if I’m being honest) does contain a few four-letter words. I’m sorry/You’re welcome/You’ve been warned 🙂
One my of favourite gossip columnists (Elaine Lui of LaineyGossip), often talks about something she calls “showing your work”. It’s shorthand for needing to be up front about the work we put into our achievements instead of diminishing them, demurring, and acting like it wasn’t hard. Pretending it wasn’t work.
This post is me doing that.
Click here to Read Skoki Part I: I’m Fucked, Aren’t I?
In retrospect, it should have been obvious to me that we’d be snowshoeing uphill.
I mean, I was aware we would be trekking through the Rocky Mountains, an area not exactly known for its wide expanses of flat terrain, and yet I was still somewhat shocked when we began our hike in and it was uphill. Very uphill. Uphill a lot and for a long time and then steeper uphill and more uphill and then the mother of all uphills just to really fuck with me.
I’m not even sure I was aware that snowshoes could go uphill, but I think that’s because I was envisioning those old wood tennis-racket looking things. In short, I had no fucking idea what I was getting myself into.
Here’s what happened.