savasana.

1. Song of the day - "No Cars Go (Arcade Fire Cover)", Maxence Cyrin.

I've never cried during yoga.

Thank goodness it wasn't weeping and sniffles. That would have been bad.

I don't cry readily in to begin with. When Eddie my fish died, injuries, bad news about friends and family - there was shock yes, but tears just aren't me.

However, when I feel something, perhaps and emotion or moment that I know is connected to something so much bigger than my world or me, that watery tear peeks her head out.

This has really, really happened once, when I was dancing my modern dance solo in 2006. I remember the way the lights shown on me, the dress I wore, looking to the audience and realizing that I wasn't going blind, but my eyes were glazed over. For me, that was a moment of pure rawness as an artist and human being, and I have strived for that tool to help elude that emotion creatively since then.

However, it's not all fun. Crying never is, unless it's because of laughter.


I've been practicing yoga a lot lately, and am really finding that it's changed my outlook on life even more than before. If I can stand being in a hot room for an hour and half exercising, chanting and "om"-ing (that freaked me all out at first, but now I relish it) I can do anything. The world is your oyster, if it doesn't get done today, I'll pick it up as soon as possible tomorrow. Why waste the energy worrying when what I really have to do is not fall on my face next to the cute guy practicing next to me?

Priorities, my friends, priorities.

After a cramped muscle from earlier this week, I went to a self-massage yoga class in hopes of helping my leg. After an hour of cracks, pops and kneading muscles I didn't even know I had tension in - we were laying in savasana, or corpse pose.

My teacher moved my arms and pushed down my pesky floating ribs while explaining to me to melt my heart. Yogi's have heard this a thousand times before. But just by this adjustment, and perhaps all the tension and stress that I've been keeping pent up before the end of school, I really felt what those words meant.

Of course, the posture in which everyone is silent and meditating in would be the one that I have such a dramatic moment in.

The glow of the Bloor Streetlights cast down on the floor next to me, and in my vision, melted away into a blur of gold light. For that split second, I had reached a vulnerable place as a person in this discipline, exactly like I had five years ago dancing. Maybe this is that second when you create a bond to your craft.

I can't explain what goes on in your head during that moment. It's you, yourself and nothing matters. It's mental nirvana, and can be reached in the highest leap or lying on the floor. I've experienced it twice in half a decade. I'm sure there are people who feel this way weekly, maybe monthly.

It's really special. I'll leave it at that.