The Lunacy of Printer Cartridges

I've never been to an "Island Ink Jet" kiosk before, but Hil's been printing off scads of papers, and we've been going through ink cartridges fast.

As all of you who own printers can attest, it's the cost of ink that kills you. Right now, our snazzy Epson 5400CX (believe me, you have to know the name of your printer when you go looking for ink) takes a hundred bucks to fill up with completely fresh black, cyan, magenta and yellow cartridges.

It's ludicrous. A black ink cartridge from Epson alon costs 60 bucks! They're sneaky about it too - they put a microchip on the cartridge that tells the printer not to read it if it's been refilled.

We've tried using generic cartridges as well. Our last Staples cartridge cost 43 bucks, but much to my dismay, the Island Ink Jet guy goes, "Sorry. These Staples ones can't be refilled."

"What do you mean?"

"See this...", he points to the back of our cartridge, "there's only one hole. Normally, there should be another one for refilling."

"Why isn't there a hole?!"

"So you have to keep going back and buying more Staples ones"

Unbelieveable. Fortunately, Mr Island Ink Jet had generic cartridges available for the CX5400 for 38 bucks - cartridges that can be refilled for a lot less.

I continue my line of investigation in the shady world of print cartridges, "I hear that you can't even refill the Epson cartridges."

"Actually," Mr Island Ink Jet interupts, "You can get around their microchip, you just need a special machine that resets the chip. " (He pulls out some weird doo-hickey with lights on it)

"Oh - But it's getting to the point where it's probably cheaper to throw out your printer, and buy a new one with fresh cartridges."

Mr Island Ink Jet shakes his head, "The printer companies have thought of that too - lots of companies ship their new printers with half-empty ink cartridges"

***
It's pretty pathetic to see - with our issues of the environment, stuff like this happening. Planned obsolence, and a blatant grab towards monopoly. In the end, the only morals of the story are:

1. don't buy Epson cartridges
2. take them to a place to get refilled
3. don't bother buying "Staples" brand

j

Captain America!

The world is truly strange a place.

Such as the above image of Captain America.

I was cruising the web looking for images (I design posters for Downward Dog), searching for "superheroes" - and this is what came up. I nearly fell out of my chair in tears. Visit these 2 links:

http://www.bodypainting.co.uk/portfolio/collaborative/captain-america.html

http://www.bodypainting.co.uk/portfolio/collaborative/daredevil.html



The body painting's done by an IT consultant in the UK - it's his hobby. And oh yeah, there's an image of Captain America doing a handstand which is fully disturbing.

j

We Need Representative Voting!

Hello all,

Sorry for the span of time between writing - but this week has been the proverbial gong show. Have been teaching lots - fantastic.

Anyhoo, the riding Hilary and I live in - Trinity-Spadina was one of the closest races in the election. NDP candidate, Olivia Chow (Jack Layton's wife, and the stoker on the tandem bike in the photo) was running against the 3-time incumbent Tony Ianno. In the last election, Chow lost to liberal Iannon by just 500 votes. Practically nothing.

Like the last time, this race was a close one. I remember clicking on the CBC website, and seeing them within 50 votes of each other. Eventually though - Chow pulled away, and won by a definitive 5% margin. Ianno lost for several reasons:

1. The Liberal Govt's response to the Chinese Head Tax reimbursal. (Not smart, seeing how Chinatown is within his riding.)
2. Ianno's countless empty promises, and the dubious question of where 500 million (yup - that's right, $500000000!) that was slated to develop the Toronto waterfront, and never appeared
3. General ineptitude
4. Chow's history as a Toronto councillor, and a popular one at that.

But enough of the riding. Just wanted to point out some other facts:

1. The NDP garnered 16% of the popular vote, and won 29 seats
2. The "other" party (I think it was someone from the Green Party) got 5% of the popular
vote, and in the end, 1 seat in the House of Commons.

And to top it all off, the Bloc Quebecois got 10% of the popular vote, yet won - get this, 51 SEATS!

There is something seriously wrong here. When the NDP get 1.5 times the number of support and has less than 2/3 the seats of the BQ. Or even more glaringly - the Bloc garners double the votes of the Green Party, yet gets 50 MORE SEATS !

No wonder this country is divided.

Get your Vote On!

Well, here we are, voting day.

There's a group called www.getyourvoteon.ca that was handing out stickers and info at the Broken Social Scene concert. If you're remotely interested in voting (and I think we all should be, seeing how we live in this country), I'd recommend checking out the site. Lots of handy info, as well as some of the following disturbing facts:

• Each generation of Canadians votes less than the last.
  
• Fewer than 50% of us born after 1975 vote in local, provincial or federal elections.
  
• In the 2000 federal election, only 25% of us between 18 and 24 bothered to cast a ballot.
  
• Politicians make decisions in the interests of those who vote. We need to get on it

In light of the above facts, no wonder we keep getting the same peons running for office over and over. It's not like one day we'll have all these magical candidates that are perfect for us show up at an election, these things take time to evolve. Start now!

Happy Voting!

j

Broken Social Scene: Full on Social, Slightly Broken

Hil and I saw Toronto's other home town heroes - Broken Social Scene tonight.

In our ongoing quest to check out all of TO's venues, we found ourselves at Kool Haus, a massive warehouse converted to concert venue. The place was packed - the first of 2 shows, I wouldn't be surprised if there were at least 2500 folks in attendance - from the very young, to a an army of twenty and thirty somethings, and after that, some older folks too. The place was so crammed, that this was one of the few times Hil and I weren't able to shimmy ourselves up to the very front.

As there was no opening act, shenanigans started early: 9:30pm, and went on for a solid two and a half hours. Me and Hil were a bit taken aback with the performance - which was a contrast from BSS's "cleaner" recordings, You Forgot It in People, and Feel Good Lost. Although there's a revolving line-up in the band, tonight saw the stage swell with upwards of over twenty people! Some serious sonic blasting was going on - not so much sheets of sound, but big thick walls of audio power. There was also some pyschedlic light show stuff going on - pretty gaudy, choreographed lighting that screamed not so much "indie show", but "full on stadium rock".

The band is no doubt talented, and I was very impressed by their addition of a fiddle player, Julie Penner (or was it Fenner) as well as the mighty vocalist from Calgary's Reverie Sound Review (I thought she looked familiar!). However at times, there was so much sound and bass that everyone's vocals would be drowned out.

Interesting points of note were all the other folks that joined BSS on stage, a virtual who's who of Canada's 'indie scene: a vivacious attention grabbing Leslie Fiest (in spray-on-tight-white jeans - yowza), Amy from Stars, and members from the Most Serene Republic, Do Make Say Think, Apostles of Hustle and even hip-hop hero K-OS.

The guys were soaking up being at home, and we were privvy to some serious musical masturbation - with crazy jams going on for way tooo long. Cases in point would be their last song which went on 5 minutes longer than it should have, and as I looked around the crowd, people were shuffling their feet, waiting to go.

They botched their encore as well, where somehow, one of them decided to stay on stage and proceed to wank himself hoarse with some weird guitar chops for a good 4 - 5 minutes. I think BSS was expecting the crowd to be cheering their heads off in anticipation of an encore, and after that didn't happen, they walked back on sheepishly, and played 3 more songs. Whoops.

There were certainly some good moments though - in particular a few of the tracks off of "You Forgot It In People", and some of the in-between song dialogue. Much was made about the importance of voting on the 23rd, and to top it all off (perhaps in reference to the crowd missing their cue for the encore), the lead singer went something like, "Watch out Toronto... for all those viruses and colds out there, make sure you take care of yourselves. This city is in a big funk right now, there's a huge shadow hanging over it, and it's up to you guys to make things change."

Hil's not the biggest fan of glam rock - she gives the show 6 out of 10.

Meese - I'd give it a 7

j

PS - if you saw BSS play in Vancouver or Calgary earlier this year - fire me an email about how you thought the show was. I'm curious if they're a little less self-indulgent playing in other cities :)

The Neighbours Downstairs

The neighbours that live below us are crazy. They fight all the time. Over the past few months, it used to be just the woman yelling at the man. Recently, after some soul-searching, he's discovered some of the vertebrae in his spine and has started yelling back. At times, it's hair-raising, the things they say to each other. I couldn't imagine anyone saying things like this to their partner. For example, this morning:

Woman (with a wailing contemptous voice), "WHY do we have to argue all the time?!?? Do you know why?!?

No reponse.

Wailing continues, "It's because you're an ASSHOLE! YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!!!!"

***

I ponder whether the poor guy downstairs prefers being branded an "asshole", versus the reigning violent insult: "sub-human."

No kidding - she called him "sub-human" a few months ago.

Ridiculous

j

Pulling the Rug Out from Blind Traditionalists

It's raining here in Toronto.

As I sit on the 'ol futon, laptop in hand, I remember an article that I sent Hil a few nights back. It talks about how Krishnamacharya (THE mastervul yogi who taught Iyengar and Jois) developed yoga.

If you're into your yoga, I would highly recommend you check out the following link:

http://www.yogajournal.com/wisdom/466_1.cfm

None other than Calgary's own Norman Sjoman is referenced in the above article. And in it, he talks about how (most likely), the Ashtanga system is a product of Krishnamacharya's brilliant synthesis of everything that he saw around him, and taking it further by putting it directly into yoga. For instance, Sjoman takes note how much of the heart of Ashtanga, such as the vinyasa, came from Krishnmacharya's exposure to indian wrestling techniques and british gymnastics.

So - all you blind hardcore ashtangi's who think that this entire series of asanas that we do came from palm leaves eaten by ants, and has been practiced for 5000 years should come to your senses.

Perhaps Krishnamacharya did see these mythical palm leaves. (I'd like to think he probably did - it makes the world a more fantastical place.) But I'd also like to think that they inspired him and his teaching, as opposed to giving him a word for word, instructional account that say, (insert accent here) "the revolved triangle asana was meant to be done with the hips squared to the front edge of your mat".

Puh-leeeez.

As opposed to getting hung up with all the semantics, wouldn't it be better to just practice for the sake of practicing? There's nothing wrong with being "traditional" and keeping an eye on where you came from (Krishnamacharya was an undeniable visionary and scholar).

However, realize that the yoga we practice today, comes from a respect from tradition, but is also being constantly evolved to stand the ultimate test of time - change.

Yoga is meant to set you free as opposing to tying you down within a crush of ideology and dogma. Learn to look inside yourself.

Happily skipping marichiyasana D and doing what's right for me,

jeff

PS, for even more interesting info on the whole, "where does our system come from?!" debate,
check out Alan Little's excellent blog posting at:

http://alanlittle.org/weblog/yogateaching.html

PPS - the above photo is from a sequence where later on, Krishnamacharya is actually warming up and using a skipping rope before practice, doing some "double-dutch" to augment the cardio-vascular part of his practice.

jk. (however, I wouldn't be surprisesd if "K" looked at skipping ropes, and wondered how they could be useful for yoga)

Martin Luther King Jr Day

Today was Martin Luther King Jr's birthday. I'm not too sure if folks in the US got today off - last time I heard, they got maybe 2 weeks of vacation, and heck, if Xmas fell midweek - well, you'd better hope you had a sick day left.

But I digress.

MLK was certainly a "great man", and a visionary within his accomplishments. But the "Great Man" (or "Great Woman") theory just doesn't seem to fly anymore these days. Honestly, when did you hear about the last "Great Man" or leader - someone with the charisma, vision, and guts to get the job done?

Case in point: Canadian political history. Hmmmm... maybe Diefenbaker and Trudeau could be considered "great men", but jeez, that was decades ago. Since then, we've suffered through our share of great bastards though - like Mulroney who taxed us to death, and Klein who still makes me embarassed to say I'm from Alberta at times.

I wonder if it's because our journalism is so skewed these days. So microscopic. Any little foible seems to be pounced out, magnified, doubts are cast, careers ruined. I remember hearing how MLK was quite the womanizer and had a soft spot for the ladies - but he still made his mark. But if he was in today's world - would it still be the same?

How many folks have been on the track towards becoming "great" but stumbled along the way, under our intense sensationalistic journalism? Or more likely, the smart folks realized that it it ain't worth it and didn't bother in the first place?

Look at the political guys running today: Martin, Harper, Layton. Nary a speck of greatness amongst them. Propped up by an army of advisors and spin doctors - so heavy, that any message is so, well, sexless, boring and weak.

Keep an eye out for the voter turn-out this Jan 23. I think that number will speak volumes.

j

PS - where's the next Louis Riel?

PPS - why doesn't Leonard Cohen run for office?

PPPS - the above image is of MLK getting arrested during a protest in Montgomery, 1958. I could have used one of those "classic" pictures where he's speaking to throngs of folks, but this photo shows another side - to what it takes to get things done.

On a Ligher Note: Chuck Norris Facts!

Saw this the other day, as I was purveiwing Surly Bike's excellent bike blog:

www.chucknorrisfacts.com

I'd forgotten all about Chuck, aside from those assinine Delta Force movies and the old-school kung-fu film "Way of the Dragon" where Bruce Lee handed Chuck his ass on a platter.

Regardless, check out the link. (My favorite is Chuck Norris fact number 5)

j

John Keith Reynolds

A few days ago, we found out how Hilary's grandfather: John Keith Reynolds passed away at Sunnybrook hospital. I'd seen him a few weeks ago for the first time ever, and while he was in his mid eighties, with alzheimers, there was a certain resiliency to him that could not be denied.

As such, everyone has flown back to TO. Hil's parents made the epic trip from Cairo, her uncle John came in from Vancouver, and Hil's sister Carolyn, and her boyfriend Steve drove in from Montreal.

We went to the church today, and despite Keith Reynold's long life, there was an impressive showing from his remaining friends: many of them octogenarians. Some of them were still in fine shape; maybe it had to do with the fact that they survived the second world war, and are a hardier breed.

Many of us today haven't had any sort of challenges like WWII (I suppose there's the threat of terrorism, but even that is a grand stretch - think of it more of as Pro-American-Paronia in order to futher the United States' crooked interests for world domination) and we have gotten complacent as a society for the whole.

I wonder how many of the people I know who will live to see their eighties.

j

Flat Tire Blues

Sorry about the tardiness of writing, but I've still been reeling over the events of Saturday night.

Saturday was a busy day, as my teacher training for Downward Dog started up. Yes I know, Jee you're in another teacher training, but the quality of instruction here is so damn high - and it's a great learning opportunity!

After slugging through 5 hours of yoga, going back to the first principles of sun salutation A's (everything in Ashtanga yoga is right there in the sun salutes - you just have to really look), I was more than ready to pick Hilary up at the airport. Hooray! She's coming home!

Hustling down the stairs, I realized that I was on the verge of being late. I hurriedly brushed the snow off the truck, but our parking stall is so freaking tight (see previous blogs) that I couldn't clean the windows on the right hand side. In the best of times, getting the truck out is a stunning display of timing, steering and spatial relations. When the back alley is covered in snow, and you can't see out of half the windows, it's damn near impossible. My sixth sense was screaming at me that I was going to tear the side mirror off, so I stopped and try to see-saw the other way.

I hear a loud chunk emanate from the back of the truck, but I pass it off as the bumper scraping.

With much cursing, and evil thoughts directed towards our cheapskate landlord, I eventually get the Nissan onto the main roads. Hang a right down Bathurst, and just as I was crossing Queen St, the truck's back end started to move funny. Huh? I pull over by the Pizza Pizza on the corner, and get out. My first thought was that snow had filled the wheel wells, but when I got a good look at my back right tire, my eyes bulged and my heart sank.

There was my rear tire slashed in 2 places. The truck had been driving on its rim for 100 feet.

That "thunk" in the alley, I slowly realise, was a piece of metal on the fence post cutting my tire to pieces.

HOW THE HELL AM I GOING TO GET HIL FROM THE AIRPORT?!?

***

There's a common design flaw in vehicles these days, where the spare tire is placed underneath the vehicle. To get at that spare, you usually have to collect a whole bunch of under-designed parts, and then stick a rod through a tiny hole, which will hopefully line up with an even tinier nut, which you then pray to sweet Jesus will catch as you spin.

It was hopeless. There I was, with a dead truck at night, in one of the main intersections in downtown Toronto. Snow is falling, the streets are covered in brown slime, and everywhere people are looking at me. I feel a scream welling up in my throat. My visions of picking up my girlfriend and having a nice relaxing evening are dashed - instead, now I have to figure out how to move this truck, before it gets impounded. A weird guy tries to help me, and throws some cardboard down, but after a while he gives up.

***

After twenty minutes, I realize that the truck will never move. I run home and call my dear friend Rob Frede, out in Etobicoke. Fortunately Rob was free for the evening, and was able to pick Hil up at the airport. In the meantime, I started making phone calls. CAA had a blistering fast response time of 48 hours for new members (thanks guys!), so I then started flipping through the yellow pages. Abrams towing promised to be there in an 20 minutes.

I'm beginning to learn that in Toronto, promises are cheap.

While Rob soon brought Hil home safe and sound, there wasn't much of a happy reunion. I was so down - how the hell am I going to pay $50 for a tire change, or $75 for the tow, and however much it'll cost for a new tire? I have harsh, irrational thoughts race through my head - about how much I hate this fucking place - how it can be so mean and fucking impossible to get ahead.

***

After waiting 2 plus hours for Abrams "20 minute quick pick-up", I decide to take matters into my own hands. I grab my toolbox, some WD40, a hammer, and hustle down to Queen St. There's the Nissan, hood flipped up, hazard lights flashing, still sitting on it's lowly rim.

The bouncer at the closest club, Healeys (owned by blind-bluesman Jeff Healey), lets me borrow his valet's orange pylons. At least now, I won't get run over by a cabbie making a quick right hand turn onto Queen.

And magically, things start to turn around.

The bouncer shows up with a shovel and offers to scrape the snow away. He was worried that the jack would slip out on me. I thank him as he shovels the sludge away, "I'm still miles away from getting at the spare tire, but thanks for your help!", I tell him.

"No problem" says the bouncer, "Just bring the pylon back when you're done".

He shakes his head when I tell him that the spare is buried underneath the truck. "Those things are impossible to get at."

I pull out the floor mats, and get on the old soggy cardboard. It's official now, I'm on my back in the black mud of Queen Street. I try spraying WD40 and bashing the spare tire loose with the hammer. It doesn't budge. I hit it some more.

Then I hear a voice and see an upside down face, "Hey - do you need a hand? I used to be a tire tech!"

Tire tech?!? More like an angel! I slide out from under the truck and meet my saviour, "Man, I could use whatever help you could give me."

"Sure!"

"I can't get the tire out from underneath..."

"I've worked on these things before, they're an absolute bitch." In the haze of the street lights, I get a better look at the guy helping me out. He's an older scruffy dude, with a beat up jacket, a scarf and a hoody, and like a lot of folks in this area, he's poor.

Together, the two of us being to work seamlessly. He throws his jacket into the back and slides under the truck. I run to get more floor mats to slide under him, so he doesn't get too dirty. With divine skill, he's able to guide the jack rod through 30 inches of blind metal, into the nut. I start spinning like crazy, and he starts hacking away at the tire. Back and forth we work, until eventually, the tire saint frees the wheel from the bowels of the truck. I pull it from his hands and let it fall on the sidewalk with a clunk.

"Holy shit! I can't believe we got it out!" I'm grinning from ear to ear as I pull the tire saint to his feet. We're now 2 guys officially bonded through working with our hands

"That goddamn mechanism is so corroded, you should soak that thing in oil!" he suggests,

"I was thinking more like leaving the spare in the back of the truck. I ain't dealing with that ever again"

"The mechanism wasn't even working, " he exclaims, "the only thing holding the tire in place was rust."

Knowing that momentum was on our side, we throw ourselves back at the truck. Next step, guide the jack under the truck. The tire saint goes under again to place the stupid thing, and I start spinning the handle madly. At the same time, he goes back and starts unscrewing the lug nuts.

We keep a running litany of the evils of modern truck design, as well as telling small details of our lives. I admit to the tire saint about how I've just moved to the city. He tells me how he's out of work right now, but used to be a dry-waller.

Ten minutes later we've got the thing licked.

I marvel at how much we've done, without even knowing each other's names. I take off my soaked gloves and shake the tire saint's hand, "My name's Jeff".

"My name's Dave" He introduces me to his girlfriend, this older woman huddled in a sports jacket, who'd been watching our efforts.

"Can I buy you a beer?" I offer

"Nope, I don't drink."

"Then how 'bout I score you some flow..."

"Man, whatever you could help me with, would be just great" he smiles,

"Kay, give me a sec!"

I run into Healeys, down the stairs to the closest ATM. I pull out forty bucks - the best forty bucks I've spent all week - forty bucks for restoring my faith in people - a bargain.

I snag Dave outside, and give him the bills. He's classy, and just puts it in his pocket without looking at it.

"Thanks so much!"

"No, thanks for your help Dave! You saved my ass!" I give him a big smile,

"I'll catch you around..."

We nod. With that, we part ways.

Subbing for the Big Guns / Thoughts on Teaching

Wow - I am absolutely spent.

I know that's certainly been the flavour of this blog as of late - but that's how I feel.

It comes part and parcel with teaching yoga. I've always laughed when people have asked how much I teach, and when I say something like "10 classes", they retort, "wow - you only work 15 hours a week! That's soooo slack".

That's pure bullshit.

Teaching, when it's done right, is one of the most challenging things you can do - and if you find it super easy, then chances are, you're half-assing it somewhere. Real teaching forces me to be 100% present, with my mind and body working in seamless unison. I'm juggling the constraints of the class, reading the room, looking out for people, adjusting students, etc, etc, and on top of it all, I want to be engaging and eloquent. I want to get my point across.

Not to just one or two people - but to everyone. It's communication to the nth degree.

I'm not whining, I'm just stating an expression of my passion for teaching, and the high standards I hold for it. I love to teach. Teaching kicks ass.

So all those desk jockeys can ask themselves when was the last time they had to truly concentrate for 90 minutes on something - anything - where they were under watchful eyes the whole time. Where their boss is looking at them every second. Then try doing that 10 times a week. Puh-leeeeez.

***

Regardless, where I'm coming from is that I'm teaching my most challenging classes right now.
Absolute nail-biting situations.

With the tail-end of the holidays, I've been very fortunate to get lots of classes to sub - but these classes are for the best teachers in Toronto. Like JP Tamblyn or David Robson (see picture). These are guys who have been teaching for a long, long time, and have properly distinguished themselves as being the best - no small feat when you consider there are a zillion yoga teachers out here.

They are talented yogis and great teachers - and as such, they have popular classes. Not just lots of students, but lots of students who know their stuff - who know their yoga.

At times, I feel like that unknown guy who had the thankless job of having to shadow Wayne Gretzky, or guard Michael Jordan. These last few weeks, I've been walking into rooms where everyone looks at you and right away, their guard goes up. You can almost hear the gears grinding in their head, going "Who the hell is that? Where's Dave?" Looks of disappointment, even before you've opened your mouth.

It's been nervewracking, but in the end, it's been exciting too. I've been teaching the best yoga of my life thus far, and winning people over. Teaching the best classes that I can. Classes where I leave everything out there, and try and reach everyone out there.

The studio owners have been impressed, the students have been happily surprised, it's been all good thus far. I had two ladies clap this morning. When people come up and ask when they can see you again, or how they had a fine yoga practice, it makes it all worthwhile.

But at the end of the day, I sure get tired.

j

Exponential

Well, here we are, Jan 4, 2006. Four days in!

I think I'm beginning to show signs of SAD (Seasonal Affliction Disorder), or something to that effect - where the body starts to miss the light. Honestly, I cannot remember the last day I saw sun here. It must be weeks ago. Perhaps there was a glimpse of sunshine one morning in yoga practice, but I didn't get out in time to feel it's rays on my face.

Maddening.

Started to come down with a cold yesterday. No real surprise with the stress of the holidays wearing my system down. Seems like all the folks at the studio are carrying a sniffle here or a sniffle there.

Did not feel strong for practice, but I decided to go anyway.

My backbends have been a work in progress and like Tiger Woods re-inventing his golf swing, I've gone about the painstaking labours of revisiting first principles. Understanding the years-old habits of my body, the muscular patterns, all the subtleties that I ignored before. Rather than satisfying my ego and keep doing things the "easy way", I've gone back to learn how to do it the right way. That's how it's done here at Downward Dog - it's always the hard way, but in the end, it's the best way.

Perhaps nothing's been more difficult than trying to get my right arm to work properly. It's been at least a year and a half where I've noticed how one side of my spine bends more than the other - and for the sake of depth within the postures, I've just ignored it. But sooner or later, these shortcuts lead to brick walls.

Ron (the mysore extraordinaire) of Downward Dog zeroed in on this shoulder three months ago and really started to make me work on it. "Jeff - you can't straighten this arm. The other one's straight, but this one, the arm points over here, and the elbow's always bent. That's putting this big twist in your spine as you backbend."

So - back to work. For the first few weeks, Ron would always come by as I put my spine through it's paces, and he would adjust me, trying to shape the shoulder into place. A few times, it felt like I would snap. But he was patient - he'd stop me and explain things ten different ways on ten different days. Forget just doing something over and over like a stupid bull and hoping for a new result - (the traditional mysore way) - Ron keep looking for a solution from different vantages.

These last 6 weeks, Ron hasn't helped me with the backbends at all. I would struggle and push, and relax and soften... and I think I was getting it. Glimmers of the fringes of a shiny epiphany. Then yesterday, as I came up in the inverted bow posture, Ron came by. He started poking his fingers into all the spots of my right side, where the wrong muscles were engaged. But today it was soft there. He checked the straightness of that stubborn right arm, which was quivvering - old forgetten tissue learning to become sinewy again.

I couldn't see him, but I heard his voice, "All right! Now we're seeing some progress!"

I laughed, upside down, "Yeah... it's only taken months for a change"

Ron replied, "Exponential."

As I came out of that backbend, I was happy.

"Exponential" I whispered to myself - the finest compliment of 2006 thus far!

j

Honesty

There come times when we are tested. Actually, every day we're tested - we just don't know it. Usually it's small stuff, but every now and then, something a little bigger comes along - and it's these situations, where the true notion of your character and values comes into play.

Case in point - on New Year's Eve, in my haste to pick up my dear friend Leslie I didn't take enough care backing my truck out. Halfway through, I had that thought, "Woah - I'm backing up pretty fast - I should make sure the hood of my truck clears the neighbor's car" By the time I looked up, it was too late. My eyes saw the bottom corner of the neighbor's VW's jetta's mirror start to bend - and since it was a cold night - CRACK. SHIT!

Ugh. This was bound to happen sooner or later. As Hilary can attest, (and pretty much everyone else who has seen the back alley), the neighbors and I share a microscopic parking space. Somehow, we cram a Jetta and a Nissan Pickup in a spot meant for barely one and a half cars. As I got out and surveyed the damage - my mind was already foreseeing the nightmare ahead. Our neighbors who live below us are nuts. They yell at each other all the time and say stuff that makes the hair on the back of Hil and I's necks stand up. How can you call your partner a "fucking moron" over and over day after day?

I seriously debated taking the easy route, which was to take the piece of plastic on the ground, toss it into the truck and pretend nothing happened. Maybe they wouldn't find out. Heck - they were slated to move out at the end of January - out of sight out of mind. And besides - this was a Volkswagen - this stupid side mirror could cost three hundred bucks.

I had visions of dollars signs with wings fluttering away from me. My heart was aching about the number of classes that I would have to teach just to pay for this stupid mirror. Money that would be better spent on stuff like food, or going out for dinner with Hilary. Nothing grandiose, but it's those small luxuries every now and then, like sushi once a month, that make that daily grind in a strange city a little easier.

But something nagged within me - and I realized that this was not the way I wanted to start the new year - by being deceitful. It wasn't the right thing to do.

After partying that night, I left a note on their door, fessing up to what I did.

***

The next day, I could hear them screaming at each other about the car mirror and what they were gonna do - about who's fault it was. I had flashbacks to growing up - sitting on the stairs hearing my parents yelling at each other. Of course, these folks weren't my parents - but man, they were certainly as viscious with one another. I braced myself for shopping for a new car mirror this week.

***

Today, as I came home from teaching, there was a note on my door. It was the neighbours. Basically they said not to worry about the mirror and that it was no one's fault. They even wrote a joke about how hopefully the new tenants owned a Smart Car. I was amazed.

People have a way of surprising you.

Trying my best to do the right thing,

j

Happy New Year! (a summary of 2005)

Hi Guys! Happy New Year to everyone :)

Jesus - where has the time gone? But at the same time, 2005 felt like the year that lasted forever.

My god, looking back, it's been such a crazy time. Came back from a surf trip and Peru, and right off the get go, started making things happen as a full time yoga instructor. Taught everywhere, and anywhere it seemed just to make ends meet... and along the way, met so many beautiful and kind souls. And just 6 months later - was established!

Enjoyed a fantastic year with my girlfriend Hilary, and honestly, I'm so fortunate! Wow!

In between hanging out Hil and the greatest circle of friends that I could possibly ask for (you all know who you are), I got it into my head to start studying again, and somehow, pulled off, amidst the business of working, a writing of the MCAT. And right after that epic, found myself moving to Toronto to be with Hil. A leap of faith, moving to a big place, and scratching out a life over again. Back home, I was lion, but here - I'm a cub... but I'll be roaring soon enough.

And here I've been, these past three months - enjoying the adventure of Canada's biggest city. Navigating the ins and outs, learning to live on less (and less and less), yet somehow, with Hil, our lives are rich and full. The magic of simplicity.

Well - there it is, 2005 in a nutshell. A year of living!

j