Polka-Roo Yoga Guy

Ok, I admit, I have been just AWFUL at this blog. From the very onset, when choosing the name even, I was stuck. Stuck on what to say, how to start, do I pick a theme? What is the background going to look like and will it relflect my writing? What IS my writing? Why am I doing this? You get the point...

So, on the near anniversary of my arrival in Vancouver, (I officially arrived here on September 19, 2004) I am starting this blog over again. The new Transient Tales of a Girl is going to be purely me. Could be a one-liner, could be a three-pager. But instead of wasting time on trying to decide what to write, I'm just going to - well - WRITE!


For over a year now I have been trying to get into the "new swing of things". It's amazing how much happens to you when you move away. There is alot of starting over again, getting back into the groove, re-defining yourself in your new surroundings. Before I left Toronto I wanted to make sure that I had a good yoga contact, as it was such an important part of my life for so many years. My instructor and friend gave me the name of someone who she had studied under and whom she held a high regard for, and who, ironically enough, is a Vancouver local. PERFECT!! I thought...I'll at least have the familiarity and the connection to my old life through yoga.

It took me a while to actually get up the nerve to go to class. I suppose alot of that was emotional, as the connection of going to yoga reminded me of my friends back home and the weekly tradition which was born a few years back, as we would ceremoniously meet weekly to stretch out our stresses and shed tears of joy and pure relaxation. So when I finally worked up the energy and nerve to go to my first west-coast yoga class I hoped that the referred teacher would be there. Much to my dismay, as I unrolled my crinkled mat, an announcement was made that he wouldn't be teaching the class, he had the flu. I was disappointed, but also excited to get back into practice, and so I carried on.

On my way home that night I cried. A good healthy cry. A cry that had been stirring in me for months as I pushed aside emotion while I eagerly focussed my attention on setting up my new life. It was wonderful. About a month passed and I went back to class with the hopes that he'd be there, and again, the yoga-sub (which is what I now call her although not fair of me because she is also a regular teacher at the studio and quite amazing) announces that the regular scheduled teacher will not be in due to a familiy emergency. Damn it! I'm cursed! And more importantly, I can't report to my old teacher friend what it's like to take his class because I keep lucking out!

Monday night I made my third attempt to catch his class and again, no show. So, my dear teacher friend, your referral will forever be known to me as The Polka-Roo Yoga Guy. And when I finally do cross his path and get to experience his direction, I'll be sure to tell him! In the mean time, I am happy to report that I am slowly getting back into the swing of things and yoga is once again a part of my week and my life.

Om Shanti!