Saturday, November 15, 2008

Montreal

Canada has never felt so foreign to me. I guess I thought the same about New York when I entered its airport in the wee hours this morning. I suppose the East Coast sun had risen, but that was a secret jealously kept by the rain and lovesick clouds who were trying to have their way with the ground. All of this drama kept us on the ground for an extra hour. Our tiny plain was number 30 in line for takeoff. Until today, I have never had a pilot turn off the engine and announce that it was ok to turn your cell phones and ipods back on for at least 20 more minutes. When we landed and deplaned in Montréal, the customs agents were as reluctant to let me in as New York was to let me out. Maybe it was because I had a one way ticket to a yoga ashram, or maybe it was because my appearance was affected by the past eight hours that felt like trying to sleep on a wooden benched rollercoaster. Thinking back at the situation, it could also possible that they were toying with me. The three separate women who sent me into the depth of beaurocratic maze were all about my age, they all sent me forward with a slightly coy smirk and the third one said that it was really slow right now but I should come back later. I bet every day during their lunchtime smoke break they get together and talk about the “victim of the day” Long story short, I’m now in Café Vienne a block from the bus station waiting for a bus to take me to Val Morin.
It’s really fun to be in a foreign country again. Outside the rain is falling and two guys in electric wheel chairs with cigarettes dangling from their lips are on opposite sides of the street racing each other while pedestrians dive out of the way. Across the street is a Libanaise (that’s how it is spelled) restaurant with a neon sign that has a neon knife wielding chef cutting neon lamb slices for neon kababs. When I have worn my welcome out here I’ll probably go across the street and look for some exotic food and tea.

I have heard French people make fun of Canadian French because it offends their ears. I just offend myself when I have to order things in English because all I took in College for a foreign language was American Sign Language. Regardless, people have been very kind to me here.
It has been a strange transition this past few months. I went from full time job to long distance motorcycle riding to a retreat in the woods of Northern California and Oregon to Las Vegas complete with casinos and bars and now I am about to have a month of a strict yogic lifestyle. The whole point was to shake up the snowglobe I call my psyche. When this is all over it will be interesting to see what it looks like when the snowflakes land. I’m just kind of hoping that there will be a palm tree there.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Reconnection




At 5pm on Saturday evening, I unplugged my vacuum, scooped up a handful of cleaning supplies and walked them down my stairs adding them to a random pile of stuff awaiting a new tenant. My pickup truck was already packed. After slipping a note and key through the manager’s mail slot, I chased the setting sun to the Utah border. As I laid my sleeping bag on the red dirt a few shooting stars welcomed me home to my place under the Milky Way, my Steamboat life was but a memory.

The past week has been one of my most trying ones to date. I basically sequestered myself away in my apartment and went through 7-plus years of accumulation and reduced it so it would fit comfortably into my pickup truck. That last week in Steamboat felt strange. I got to say goodbye to a small handful of friends, but for the most part, I just hid out. I didn’t even go out for Halloween. This was partly because I had so much to do, but mainly because I had no desire. The effects of spending the last eight years as a newspaper publisher are starting to become apparent. Paulie, my business partner said it best, “It’s great because people don’t kiss my ass anymore.” I have found that my interactions, though fewer, have been more real.

In the past two days I have driven about 12,000 miles to Heartwood Institute outside of Garberville California. My girlfriend Cassidy is working here for a few months and I figure it will be a perfect chance to leave my old life behind and prepare for the new. The plan is to head to Las Vegas from here and put my stuff in my Dad’s garage and then fly to Montreal Canada for a month of Yoga teacher training in an ashram. I’m not sure if I will teach yoga when I finish, but I at least want to hit “reset” and figure out what’s next.

Judging by the smell, what’s next is dinner. Happy Election Day Eve! Spooky…