This past weekend, I participated in my first yoga retreat at Mont-Tremblant; this opportunity came to me unsolicited, and unexpectedly, courtesy of Lululemon Athletica, Juna Yoga and my friend/mentor, Bram Levinson. I feel so grateful (and blessed) for having been selected to be part of such an amazing group of awesome and powerful women, from whom I learned from and grew with (yes, over such a short period of time). I feel both empowered and humbled by the women that I met and practiced with, and I ended the weekend feeling refreshed and renewed. I don’t particularly feel like getting into the details of the retreat (for now, anyway), so to compensate, here are some photos of Tremblant! Tremblant National Park is gorgeous, made even more so by the group of ladies with whom I spent time there. But, I must admit that when we were heading up to the summit (and later, chilling on the beach), I just couldn’t help thinking “Damn, this place is small compared to Whistler!” So as you can see, my love affair with Vancouver has not ended, and thus, that elusive post on Whistler will be forthcoming soon. I swear it! As always, you can see the full size fo each image by clicking on them. WordPress is still being a biatch and I can’t make any damn adjustments!
Hello blogosphere! Today’s thoughts are brought to you courtesy of my pantaloons. Have you seen them?
I won’t leave you in suspense any longer – I’ve lost my pants. When? No idea. Where? Beats me! How? Honestly, if I knew that I wouldn’t be looking for my pants. I can hear my mom laughing to herself as she reads this – she’s thinking that I’m the only person she knows that can lose a pair of pants. She’s probably right. I’ve searched high and low – the closets, the two gym bags, the dryer, the back of the dryer, the bathroom – no luck. So, if you see a black pair of Lululemon Grooves walking about – send them over my way ’cause they’re missing an arse!
I was on an escalator today, behind a dude with no fashion sense. This fellow was balding and his hairstyle was a hybrid mullet/greasy Gino do. He had slick little curls tied back with a rubber band and the back of his head looked gross, yet I could not turn away. Then I heard a voice inside my head: “Dude, that look died in the 80s for a reason! Cut off his rat tail! Cut it off!” But I kept those thoughts to myself. That is, until I noticed his track suit. Then I just started laughing. It was all I could not to alert the fashion police.
I was standing on the train platform this morning when I was startled by a flock of birds that suddenly appeared above me. I always love the sight of birds flying over me (as long as they’re not crapping on me), but I can never quite express how this makes me feel. Happy – free – alive? How does it make you feel?
Yoga rocks! Fuck the leg injury and say HELLO to the SUN! Be sure to face East people – and remember, breath is life.I think I’m going to start incorporating my Bedouin call into my yoga practice. I suppose it’s a good thing I mostly practice at home. I can’t imagine that other yoginis will appreciate the BC as much as I do 😀