twofunkyhearts

Recently I took on teaching yoga to seniors in nursing homes. Initially I thought it would something nice to do, and was happy to pick up a few more teaching gigs. It’s quickly become much more than that.

The classes are small, ranging from 2 to 15 participants aged 75 to 97. One of my yogis is a beautiful woman (we’ll call her Sheila – not her real name). Sheila is 96 years young and always has impeccable makeup and carefully selected outfits – she wears a lot of matching two piece pant suits in pastel colours and the same button-up printed shirts my grandmother used to be fond of. Despite being 96 and wheelchair bound, Sheila is the heart of the class. She entices and coerces her peers into the yoga circle and tells them to stretch higher, move more – don’t be so damn lazy! It might sound like she’s a bit bossy, but Sheila is an absolute gem of a woman with a heart of gold. Her life story – from what I know of it – sounds like she is a total pioneer. It’s an honour to know her and be approved of by her (as long as I “work a bit harder and reach farther – you’re still young, dammit!”).

In another care facility, the day after I see Sheila, there’s another woman, Lucy (also not her real name), aged 97. In an environment where people are often frustrated by the changes in life that brought them to the home, Lucy has a beautiful sense of acceptance and hope for the future. She was brought into care 12 months ago after having a health scare and wasn’t even allowed to return to her house before entering care permanently. That’s a concept I can’t imagine for myself and her grace is humbling. Similar to Sheila, Lucy is the driving force behind morning yoga, recruiting other residents and friends to join in, and makes sure everyone gets back to their rooms alright following yoga. The first day I met Lucy I had the group doing leg exercises in what I call “dance steps” (everything we do is based from a sitting position). Lucy turned to me, an apologetic look on her face and said “I’m so sorry this hip doesn’t go as high as the other one. I’ve got a touch of arthritis.” High expectations seem to be a common theme amongst the longest-living and healthiest residents.

Following seeing Lucy I head downstairs and work with residents who have progressed in dementia. I have to say that initially I was intimidated by this ward, and unsure of how I would connect and motivate this group, but I really had no reason to worry. Dementia patients have good days and some less-good days, but everyone loves enthusiasm and a smile. Another perk is that I get complimented on the same “new” outfit every week.

I’ve found little keys to working with these amazing people. The use of story and imagination is a wonderful thing and we’ve started to weave a good yarn in with our exercise. We make up adventures  as we lift our feet and knees, making broad strokes with our hands like we’re clearing bush and walking through a jungle. Sometimes we have to climb trees and hold on for dear life when a storm comes. (Last week when we were in a tornado one of the residents cried out that she could see a cow that had been picked up by the wind and was sailing across the middle of the room!) Eventually we always reach a sunny beach and go for a swim, doing backstroke from our chairs, feeling the sun on our faces. Sometimes the Beach Boys are even there and we have a little dance.

It’s a lot of fun, and not in that saintly, not-actually-fun-but-it-sounds-good kind of way. Maybe having these great connections to older people is normal for those who grew up closer to their grandparents, but for me it’s something special and I’m really grateful.  I feel like they’re teaching me how to age, and do it with class.

It’s been a while since I was last an employee. Over a year, actually and it’s been great.

I’m incredibly lucky to have had breaks in my career. When I left Europe to go on my 2 year long sabbatical, I found it took me 6 months away from my job before I began to stop thinking about it. After a year I’d finally stopped looking at job postings “for fun”. Once I let that go, I finally felt creativity I didn’t know I had, start to bubble up within me. I began writing in earnest, I learned how to draw, and when I rented places for a month or more I really enjoyed sourcing local ingredients and cooking up new things. Music and dance had a new shine for me, and my yoga practice finally started to click as I allowed myself more enjoyment with much less effort.

Despite having been through these phases before, I still have the tendency to worry that I’m not doing enough and subconsciously my focus shifts from relaxed and happy, allowing things to be effortless to concern that I should be doing “real work” (ie: going back to corporate, making loads of money and having a fancy title to fan my ego with).

This morning, however, rooted me back on the good side of my own positive values. Volunteering at a local cafe run for “people from all walks of life” (in reality this means there’s a high population of people who are homeless and/or suffer from mental illness, addiction, etc), I provided very basic service, preparing and serving food. There was no expectation of perfection or improvement. Instead the value was in just being there, in connection with other people. The capacity to share time for a common goal, to have the chance to talk with people – cafe patrons, staff, volunteers – is surely one of the most effective ways to feel rich. And the common goal is so simple – just to be happy, have shelter, get fed. When you break it down, happiness can be pretty simple even for those who don’t seem to have many reasons for it. A good reminder for me who has so many.

We had a wonderful 1 1/2 days of spring skiing, followed by a detour down the coast to Narooma. The south coast of NSW is one of my happy places. Forests of eucalyptus trees, cackling kookaburras, empty beaches spanning miles of coastline. It’s a wonderful, magical place to be.

While fun, the trip was not just for leisure. Sean and I have been very seriously (and adultly) considering investment options. We’re considering buying real estate, and have been mulling over two properties – a studio in Bondi Beach we affectionately call “Garage View” and a cute apartment down the coast in Narooma.

In considering this major decision, I reflected on past good investments, and thought about what had brought me joy while also being useful and profitable. The electric kettle we purchased for our snow excursions came to mind, and the rebellious part of me that doesn’t want to get hemmed into a committing, unwieldy land purchase began to  compare the experience of owning a very handle kettle to owning a pricey and bulky plot of real estate.

Clearly the kettle was a bargain.

Anyways, we continued to consider the matter. The real estate agent was from Whale Realty and the apartment used to be called Daisy Street, which I quite like the sound of. While mulling over our choice, we pulled over on the side of the road overlooking the ocean and got out of the car. Sean picked me a handful of wild daisies, and while looking at the water a whale breached in front of us.

We took it as a sign and bought the apartment.

Canadians tend to look forward to spring skiing. Warmer (but still freezing temperatures), some sunshine, fewer crowds, late season dumps of snow.

But Australia is different. Spring season is equivalent to water skiing in Canada. Okay, fine, that’s an overstatement but not too much of one. Temperatures rose this last weekend to 9 degrees (yes, that’s +9, not -9), making for a lot of melt and lot of water.

Good news is that car camping is only getting more comfortable, and a half day of morning skiing is better than none.

A very Australian experience: skiing in the snow gums

Midday lunch break with the ducks