Enough already

Lots to catch up on here, people. Get ready.

I've always likened myself a deep person, but considering my understanding of the philosophical meaning of "deep" came from "Pump Up the Volume" (thanks to a severe pre-teen crush on Christian Slater), I'm not so sure that's the case. Further evidence to wit: The following rambling post about Death and What It Means To Me. Sort of like, "What I Did On My Summer Vacation: The Morbid Version."

Right before I left for my trip to Opio, the Grim Reaper decided to level a few blows (four in the last two weeks; with one more impending; thankfully some have been peripheral). Oftentimes, these things make sense (my great uncle: in his eighties; suffering from throat cancer) and sometimes, they don't (as in my 21-year-old sister's friend). The obvious point here is that you never know when your minute's up; so carpe diem, as the cliché saying goes. But never has death been so much on my mind than when I was in France, trying my damnedest to relax. I'm not sure whether it's due to dramatics or a result of the mindful awareness I've been trying to practice lately.

"The present is the only time we have to perceive; to learn; to act; to change; to heal."

So lately I've urged myself to do things I'd otherwise let segue into laziness: apologize when bumping into someone on the subway; spend 30 euros on a cab to a tiny, medieval village; occasionally stop what I'm doing and remember to breathe. It's this new mindset that's helping me learn that I am largely responsible for what happens to me (it sounds so simple, but its taken me 27 years to grasp this concept) and also what I think is causing death to bother me so much (probably because I'm not necessarily in control of it).

As much as I enjoy the slightly more relaxed and "present" me, I sometimes wish for the old gal to appear who can't manage to see two feet in front of her face. At least she was ignorant of such things as time. This more mindful version is only more aware of it, which means there is still more work to do. Any of this making sense? No? Good. Moving on...

In order to end on a happier note, here are some photos of me practicing the art of carpe diem that resulted in my abdominals being sore for days:




Normally I wouldn't seek out a trapeze (trapezing?), but while in France the opportunity presented itself and off I went. Wrapping your legs around that bar is harder than it looks and I've thus realized I need to step up the abdominal core work in my yoga practice. It only took two minutes to swing, but my abs ached for a full two days afterward. Cie la vie.

More Opio photos here, which tell the full tale of the trip quite well. You can also check out an awesome video from a fellow journalist on the trip here. I make the occasional appearance (usually eating), including an inadvertently bitchy send off at the end.