Six weeks ago I started a yoga journey (The path to enlightenment & Can you stand in one place and sweat?) by embarking on a beginner programme at an Ashtanga yoga studio in Dunkeld.
After six-weeks I still can't sit comfortably in lotus (this is going to take a long time and a lot of work!) but I can now grab my fingers when in Marichyasana A and B (just!), my shoulder stand and headstand are stronger and mostly stable and my sun salutation flow is looking mighty fine. It's going to be a while before I can properly 'jump through to sitting' - I have improved. As for those arm balances and 'pushing up into handstand' - well, they'll have to wait a while too.
This journey has given me far more than yoga because once a week I run the 15km to the studio (I get a lift back with my mom, who has also been coming to yoga - a change for her after five years of Tai Chi) and on Saturday mornings (most of them) I ride my bike there and back.
Aside from gaining a different type of strength from the many sun salutation and vinyasa repeats, I have found that my hill running is far stronger; and I put this down to a direct effect from the yoga.
I'm really enjoying the practise and the people and I'm sure that in a few months I'll have made far more progress.
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Monday, 28 March 2011
Last grandparent, gone
My grandmother passed away yesterday afternoon. My father's mother. She moved to South Africa, from Paris, about five years ago and she was in a steady decline from before she arrived; Alzheimers. 18-months ago she had to be moved into a care facility when, within a few days she went from barely capable, to almost comatose. She recovered substantially from this episode but continued to decline mentally and physically. Over the past few weeks she'd been sleeping a lot more than usual and on Wednesday she had a stroke. She slept pretty much all day until she stopped breathing yesterday. A peaceful way to pass.
Sadly, I have never been close to any of my grandparents as I grew up with them in different countries. My family was very much 'ahead of its time'. As a child, most of my friends had their grandparents living in the same suburb or fairly nearby. My family was more like families today - 20 to 30 years later - where family members are spread around the world.
My mom's father lived in Zimbabwe and then in Eshowe. When I hit high school (aged 12) he moved up to Jo'burg. He alternated living with my mom and me for a few weeks and then with my uncle. Injured in WWII, his one leg had been amputated below the knee. As a small child I can remember tapping his wooden leg - always fascinated by it.
He read voraciously but had no other hobbies or interests or friends and spent his days in an armchair reading, smoking and drinking. I would stay at boarding school over 'home weekends' so as not to go home if he was staying with my mom. We didn't talk about much, had little in common and next to no history. I must have been 14 when he died in his sleep.
My French grandfather I can only recall meeting twice. The first: I must have been a young child and I remember playing cards with him and learning a fancy shuffling method. I've always enjoyed card games, which my dad and I always played when I went to visit on school holidays. I was maybe 15 when I saw my grandfather again, at an old age home in Zimbabwe. One of the few men in the home, all the old ladies vyed for his company. He was a charming gentleman. At this stage he had advanced lung cancer and he died a few months later. I remember his very strong French accent, which even decades in Zimbabwe had barely faded.
Both of my grandfathers were many years older than my grandmothers - certainly 10-14 years older. Both pairs were divorced before I was born. This was pretty revolutionary too. The Big D in those days!
My Zimbabwean grandmother, 'Gran' - my mom's mother - was the one I knew the best. In primary school I would often go to Zimbabwe during school holidays. I'd spend some time with her in Harare and the rest of the holiday on family friends' farm. She was in South Africa every few years. I remember her knitting toys for me, doting on her staffie dog, Jesse, and getting dressed so smartly to go to work. She always travelled with her make-up and lotions-and-potions in a square, hard bag. She called it "my face". She'd zip around in her sporty blue car.
Her partner of 35-odd years was an abusive, alcoholic swine who alienated her from family and friends over many years. When they retired they were often in South Africa but we rarely saw them. We certainly didn't want to see him and would sometimes get my gran to come and stay for a week. He would grudgingly release her.
She was a busy body, rarely sitting down for half an hour. Her life was dedicated to her partner to the exclusion of all else - his children, grandchildren and family in favour of her family; him above everyone else. By the time they retired she had few friends and no outside interests except for tending to him and having too many G & Ts. He had a heart attack and died. She came to live with my uncle. She had stopped living when he died and a few months later she too passed. She must have been in her early 70's - about 10 years ago.
My French grandmother. She lived in Paris and, as a child, I was forced to write to her. I say forced because my mom would make me write letters in response to her and also birthday and christmas cards. Although my mom's motivations were sound, I hated it because I didn't know this person I had to write to. She came out to South Africa every few years but I never had a connection with her. I was still a child.
In the years before she retired I do remember her being very dynamic. She did courses - particularly in art history - and would travel to super destinations regularly. I saw her very much as a jetsetter. In 1998 I spent a few days with her in Paris. She took me to some incredible places - including Monet's home and gardens in Giverny. I was very impressed that she walked as fast as me, whipping me around the city. It was also interesting to note our similarities, despite having spent almost no time together, ever. There are many traits that I have, similar to her, which my dad doesn't present.
When I saw her in Paris in 2005, a few months before she moved to South Africa, she had changed a lot. Although still very functional, I realised that her mental faculties were not what they used to be. Probably as a result of the early stages of Alzheimers and also, I think, lack of use. My dad had asked her a few years ago what her plans had been for her retirement. She had planned to do nothing; and that's what she did. Few friends and only occasional lunch arrangements, no hobbies, little reading and no interests.
Her days were filled with time-wasting activities. An hour for breakfast, an age to tidy up, a few hours to cook her lunch-time meal, daily visit to the shops to buy bread or a fruit and this and that, watching a programme or two on television and an early night. Every day. Gone was that dynamic woman who would study and travel. When she retired, everything stopped.
And so she moved to South Africa where the same routines continued in her townhouse, a few kilometres from my dad's place. No friends, no interests, no hobbies and a steady decline. A few weeks before her 80th birthday - in August 2009 - she was nearly dead. My dad went to visit and found her in a near comatose state and managed to get her into a nearby care facility. She improved a lot under their care but was never well enough to live outside of 24-hour care and supervision. Although she did recognise us, she'd lapse into French (her English had always been perfect) and mostly nonsense talk.
She had barely been with this world for the last year and spending every day sitting in a chair, dozing and barely functional is no way to live. Her passing is a release - and relief.
With Mamie's passing a chapter on a whole generation of my family is now closed. I can't even really look back at any of my grandparents with much feeling or fondness because I didn't really know them.
My mom's childhood was spent with cousins and aunts and her grandmother (my great grandmother was alive until I was a late-teen; but I also barely knew her). I have had little of this. I grew up as many children are growing up now and their lives will also be empty of grandparents to whom they have no connection or obligation other than blood ties. They're real for the parents, but not the children.
'Tis the way of the world now, sadly.
Sadly, I have never been close to any of my grandparents as I grew up with them in different countries. My family was very much 'ahead of its time'. As a child, most of my friends had their grandparents living in the same suburb or fairly nearby. My family was more like families today - 20 to 30 years later - where family members are spread around the world.
My mom's father lived in Zimbabwe and then in Eshowe. When I hit high school (aged 12) he moved up to Jo'burg. He alternated living with my mom and me for a few weeks and then with my uncle. Injured in WWII, his one leg had been amputated below the knee. As a small child I can remember tapping his wooden leg - always fascinated by it.
He read voraciously but had no other hobbies or interests or friends and spent his days in an armchair reading, smoking and drinking. I would stay at boarding school over 'home weekends' so as not to go home if he was staying with my mom. We didn't talk about much, had little in common and next to no history. I must have been 14 when he died in his sleep.
My French grandfather I can only recall meeting twice. The first: I must have been a young child and I remember playing cards with him and learning a fancy shuffling method. I've always enjoyed card games, which my dad and I always played when I went to visit on school holidays. I was maybe 15 when I saw my grandfather again, at an old age home in Zimbabwe. One of the few men in the home, all the old ladies vyed for his company. He was a charming gentleman. At this stage he had advanced lung cancer and he died a few months later. I remember his very strong French accent, which even decades in Zimbabwe had barely faded.
Both of my grandfathers were many years older than my grandmothers - certainly 10-14 years older. Both pairs were divorced before I was born. This was pretty revolutionary too. The Big D in those days!
My Zimbabwean grandmother, 'Gran' - my mom's mother - was the one I knew the best. In primary school I would often go to Zimbabwe during school holidays. I'd spend some time with her in Harare and the rest of the holiday on family friends' farm. She was in South Africa every few years. I remember her knitting toys for me, doting on her staffie dog, Jesse, and getting dressed so smartly to go to work. She always travelled with her make-up and lotions-and-potions in a square, hard bag. She called it "my face". She'd zip around in her sporty blue car.
Her partner of 35-odd years was an abusive, alcoholic swine who alienated her from family and friends over many years. When they retired they were often in South Africa but we rarely saw them. We certainly didn't want to see him and would sometimes get my gran to come and stay for a week. He would grudgingly release her.
She was a busy body, rarely sitting down for half an hour. Her life was dedicated to her partner to the exclusion of all else - his children, grandchildren and family in favour of her family; him above everyone else. By the time they retired she had few friends and no outside interests except for tending to him and having too many G & Ts. He had a heart attack and died. She came to live with my uncle. She had stopped living when he died and a few months later she too passed. She must have been in her early 70's - about 10 years ago.
My French grandmother. She lived in Paris and, as a child, I was forced to write to her. I say forced because my mom would make me write letters in response to her and also birthday and christmas cards. Although my mom's motivations were sound, I hated it because I didn't know this person I had to write to. She came out to South Africa every few years but I never had a connection with her. I was still a child.
In the years before she retired I do remember her being very dynamic. She did courses - particularly in art history - and would travel to super destinations regularly. I saw her very much as a jetsetter. In 1998 I spent a few days with her in Paris. She took me to some incredible places - including Monet's home and gardens in Giverny. I was very impressed that she walked as fast as me, whipping me around the city. It was also interesting to note our similarities, despite having spent almost no time together, ever. There are many traits that I have, similar to her, which my dad doesn't present.
When I saw her in Paris in 2005, a few months before she moved to South Africa, she had changed a lot. Although still very functional, I realised that her mental faculties were not what they used to be. Probably as a result of the early stages of Alzheimers and also, I think, lack of use. My dad had asked her a few years ago what her plans had been for her retirement. She had planned to do nothing; and that's what she did. Few friends and only occasional lunch arrangements, no hobbies, little reading and no interests.
Her days were filled with time-wasting activities. An hour for breakfast, an age to tidy up, a few hours to cook her lunch-time meal, daily visit to the shops to buy bread or a fruit and this and that, watching a programme or two on television and an early night. Every day. Gone was that dynamic woman who would study and travel. When she retired, everything stopped.
And so she moved to South Africa where the same routines continued in her townhouse, a few kilometres from my dad's place. No friends, no interests, no hobbies and a steady decline. A few weeks before her 80th birthday - in August 2009 - she was nearly dead. My dad went to visit and found her in a near comatose state and managed to get her into a nearby care facility. She improved a lot under their care but was never well enough to live outside of 24-hour care and supervision. Although she did recognise us, she'd lapse into French (her English had always been perfect) and mostly nonsense talk.
She had barely been with this world for the last year and spending every day sitting in a chair, dozing and barely functional is no way to live. Her passing is a release - and relief.
With Mamie's passing a chapter on a whole generation of my family is now closed. I can't even really look back at any of my grandparents with much feeling or fondness because I didn't really know them.
My mom's childhood was spent with cousins and aunts and her grandmother (my great grandmother was alive until I was a late-teen; but I also barely knew her). I have had little of this. I grew up as many children are growing up now and their lives will also be empty of grandparents to whom they have no connection or obligation other than blood ties. They're real for the parents, but not the children.
'Tis the way of the world now, sadly.
Friday, 25 March 2011
A night with Nataniel
I have always liked Nataniel and I think that if we met in person that we'd get along like a house on fire. He used to have a show on tv - it was some years ago and I always made a point of watching it because I found him so funny, interesting and entertaining. He regularly presents shows at theatres and although I had never been to one they had caught my eye.
Last night I went to see his new show, Combat. I had heard that the costumes were amazing - and they were. His music is big and while not my usual listening style, it goes with the whole stage show and I enjoyed the well organised, rehearsed and thoughtful performance.
From segments I've seen on tv over the years it seems that he's an incredibly hard worker, dedicated to performances as well as people in his life. Everything he does is done properly with exceptional attention to detail. So I expected this from his show and I wasn't disappointed.
I wasn't quite prepared to be so totally charmed by Nataniel. He is a talented storyteller with a lovely manner and clever way with words. His show is based around a number of stories, which are interrupted by song performances. The stories had me captivated.
Nataniel is matter of fact and funny and each tale has a special message. The last few stories were in Afrikaans and whike my listening is more fluent than my spoken Afrikaans, I did have to concentrate and there were a few subtleties (and jokes) that I missed. But I got most of it.
In one story (in English) Nataniel talks of his childhood and a child who was at school with him (these are not true stories... at least I don't think they are!).
A fast-food joint opened up in their small town and one family, in particular, took to it. The boy was in school with Nataniel and over a few years he became so fat that he was unable to go to school, ended up confined to his bed, inside his house and needed to be broken out by one of those ball-demolition things to be taken to hospital.
Some of the town's aunts decide that they need to have a stand with cakes and pies outside the house because this 'breaking-out' is going to be such a spectator event. So, one the day when the boy is to be broken out of the house, Nataniel is at the cake table with three aunties from the town.
They're watching the goings on and the one expresses her pity for the boy. The other aunt says that there is no need for pity because the child (well, hardly a child by this stage - probably late teens) had enjoyed every mouthful that he stuffed into his mouth.
She goes on to say that when you know the consequences of something and you still do it, you may as well enjoy it. Eating that burger, skipping that spinning class, drinking those few beers too many - they're all conscious decisions. Stop berating yourself for not doing this or that; or doing this of that. You chose to do (or not do) it, knowing the consequences, so enjoy whatever it is and suck up the consequences without complaint.
I liked this.
This theme came out tonight in a conversation. People feel uncomfortable when they're doing something that others are not doing. And Nataniel is like this. He's different to the [boring] norm; he stands out in speech, manner, clothing... I think he is charming and I'll be going to his next show. I'd love to see him do a show of stories...
To clarify my statement about uncomfortable...
My friend's sibling gave up smoking for about three months. She smoked. When her sibling failed and went back to smoking she was pleased, happy to have her sib back on her side. She was uncomfortable that her sibling had made the decision to quit when she should have been supportive and continued to enjoy her vice regardless of his choice. When he fell off the wagon, he was like her again. Same-same.
I don't drink. OK, so I drink water and juice and such. I don't drink alcohol. Rarely. I maybe clock up six units a year, maybe. Most of these units are logged in flu-fighting heavy-handed hot toddys (my great-grandmother was Scots) that knock me out cold.
I cannot even begin to describe how uncomfortable being a teetotaller makes people. Alcohol is pushed on me, I'm grilled about my taste preferences, I'm offered varieties of wine to try in an attempt to find something I'd like, people apologise to me for their drinking habits... and all I've done is ordered a mango juice instead of a gin and tonic. Why should drinking juice make other people uncomfortable? I really don't care what you drink.
If you're going to have a drink, enjoy it. If you're going to have two or three or four, enjoy them. JUST DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE 'COS THAT IS FRIGGIN' STUPID.
Eating too many burgers or chocolates or exercising too little is a choice.
Enjoy what you're doing or don't do it.
From segments I've seen on tv over the years it seems that he's an incredibly hard worker, dedicated to performances as well as people in his life. Everything he does is done properly with exceptional attention to detail. So I expected this from his show and I wasn't disappointed.
I wasn't quite prepared to be so totally charmed by Nataniel. He is a talented storyteller with a lovely manner and clever way with words. His show is based around a number of stories, which are interrupted by song performances. The stories had me captivated.
Nataniel is matter of fact and funny and each tale has a special message. The last few stories were in Afrikaans and whike my listening is more fluent than my spoken Afrikaans, I did have to concentrate and there were a few subtleties (and jokes) that I missed. But I got most of it.
In one story (in English) Nataniel talks of his childhood and a child who was at school with him (these are not true stories... at least I don't think they are!).
A fast-food joint opened up in their small town and one family, in particular, took to it. The boy was in school with Nataniel and over a few years he became so fat that he was unable to go to school, ended up confined to his bed, inside his house and needed to be broken out by one of those ball-demolition things to be taken to hospital.
Some of the town's aunts decide that they need to have a stand with cakes and pies outside the house because this 'breaking-out' is going to be such a spectator event. So, one the day when the boy is to be broken out of the house, Nataniel is at the cake table with three aunties from the town.
They're watching the goings on and the one expresses her pity for the boy. The other aunt says that there is no need for pity because the child (well, hardly a child by this stage - probably late teens) had enjoyed every mouthful that he stuffed into his mouth.
She goes on to say that when you know the consequences of something and you still do it, you may as well enjoy it. Eating that burger, skipping that spinning class, drinking those few beers too many - they're all conscious decisions. Stop berating yourself for not doing this or that; or doing this of that. You chose to do (or not do) it, knowing the consequences, so enjoy whatever it is and suck up the consequences without complaint.
I liked this.
This theme came out tonight in a conversation. People feel uncomfortable when they're doing something that others are not doing. And Nataniel is like this. He's different to the [boring] norm; he stands out in speech, manner, clothing... I think he is charming and I'll be going to his next show. I'd love to see him do a show of stories...
To clarify my statement about uncomfortable...
My friend's sibling gave up smoking for about three months. She smoked. When her sibling failed and went back to smoking she was pleased, happy to have her sib back on her side. She was uncomfortable that her sibling had made the decision to quit when she should have been supportive and continued to enjoy her vice regardless of his choice. When he fell off the wagon, he was like her again. Same-same.
I'm not the anti-alcohol version of a tree-hugger, I just don't like the stuff. Never have. Just like I don't drink coffee, Coke and other fizzy drinks and I don't eat brussel sprouts or any type of melon (cantaloupe, honeydew...) aside from watermelon.
If you're going to have a drink, enjoy it. If you're going to have two or three or four, enjoy them. JUST DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE 'COS THAT IS FRIGGIN' STUPID.
Eating too many burgers or chocolates or exercising too little is a choice.
Enjoy what you're doing or don't do it.
Wednesday, 23 March 2011
Benefits of balance
I go through phases of seeking balance, especially when my life feels skewed in one direction or another. Too many commitments, too little socialising, too many hours spent working, too few hours spent training, too many races, too little free time for reading and afternoon naps... Those scales rarely settle in the middle or even slightly to one side - they're too often all the way over to one side.
I'm not much good at full-time employment where I'm tied into an office and sitting at a desk for fixed hours daily. I'm very good at more-than-full-time employment where I'm sitting behind my own desk (for too many hours!) doing many different tasks each day. Although I have my work for clients, the other things like AR.co.za, FEAT, club involvements and other tasks are also important to me. I am community orientated and have a need to build and create within these communities. Some people have a need to eat burgers or watch telly, I need to create.
The only problem is that juggling so much stuff leads to the situation where I'm working all the time. Sure, many things I enjoy doing so it is fun-work, but it is still work. I have made it my focus this year to loosen my grip a little and not to compromise on myself so often. So far, so good. I've probably done more training in the past three months than I did in six months of last year and I'm feeling more centred, content and... balanced.
Sean Verret put me on to this superb talk from TEDxSydney by Nigel Marsh on chosing to have and establishing a work-life balance. There are so many really good things that he says.
Early on he says the following:
He continues with:
In order to get more balance, we take more on by squeezing in more training hours or events or social engagements before work, after work and gobbling up weekends instead of making fundamental changes. Adding is not changing.
Nigel gives the example of a friend who read his book and realises that she needs to change her life to what she wants it to be. She spends 10hrs at work each day; she commutes 2hrs. Her relationships have failed and there is nothing except work in her live. So, she decides to get a grip and sort it out. She joins a gym.
Nigel rightly says, "Being a fit 10-hour-a-day office rat isn't more balanced, it's more fit".
As a child, would you have written the lifestyle you currently lead on your 'what I want for my life when I grow up' list? And, would you wish this same lifestyle for your children?
Mmm...
Another superb TED talk I watched over the weekend is one by Hans Rosling. I've watched a number of his talks. This one is about the greatest invention of the industrial revolution - the washing machine. Rosling shows the magic that happens when economic growth and electricity turn a boring wash day into an intellectual day of reading.
I'm not much good at full-time employment where I'm tied into an office and sitting at a desk for fixed hours daily. I'm very good at more-than-full-time employment where I'm sitting behind my own desk (for too many hours!) doing many different tasks each day. Although I have my work for clients, the other things like AR.co.za, FEAT, club involvements and other tasks are also important to me. I am community orientated and have a need to build and create within these communities. Some people have a need to eat burgers or watch telly, I need to create.
The only problem is that juggling so much stuff leads to the situation where I'm working all the time. Sure, many things I enjoy doing so it is fun-work, but it is still work. I have made it my focus this year to loosen my grip a little and not to compromise on myself so often. So far, so good. I've probably done more training in the past three months than I did in six months of last year and I'm feeling more centred, content and... balanced.
Sean Verret put me on to this superb talk from TEDxSydney by Nigel Marsh on chosing to have and establishing a work-life balance. There are so many really good things that he says.
Early on he says the following:
"So many people talk so much rubbish about work-life balance. All the discussion about flexitime or dress-down Fridays or paternity leave only serve to mask the core issue which is that certain job and career choices are fundamentally incompatible with being meaningfully engaged, on a day to day basis, with a young family."I'd like to substitute 'young family' with any of the following: yourself, your friends, community, partner, family...
He continues with:
"[People are] leading lives of quiet screaming desperation where they work long, hard hours at jobs they hate to enable them to buy things they don't need to impress people they don't like."I've been here too - not the buying of stuff, which I don't care much for - but the quiet screaming desperation in a job I hated where I would come home shattered and in tears. He adds that going to work in jeans and tees on Fridays doesn't quite get to the bottom of this. He's right. You have to make the change; your company won't.
In order to get more balance, we take more on by squeezing in more training hours or events or social engagements before work, after work and gobbling up weekends instead of making fundamental changes. Adding is not changing.
Nigel gives the example of a friend who read his book and realises that she needs to change her life to what she wants it to be. She spends 10hrs at work each day; she commutes 2hrs. Her relationships have failed and there is nothing except work in her live. So, she decides to get a grip and sort it out. She joins a gym.
Nigel rightly says, "Being a fit 10-hour-a-day office rat isn't more balanced, it's more fit".
As a child, would you have written the lifestyle you currently lead on your 'what I want for my life when I grow up' list? And, would you wish this same lifestyle for your children?
Mmm...
Another superb TED talk I watched over the weekend is one by Hans Rosling. I've watched a number of his talks. This one is about the greatest invention of the industrial revolution - the washing machine. Rosling shows the magic that happens when economic growth and electricity turn a boring wash day into an intellectual day of reading.
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