Hello dedicated blog subscribers – and to the innocent reader that stumbles upon my blog.
A lot has happened since last time I sat down to write.
So let’s have a quick re-cap. (In the most non-naracisstic way)
My summer was spent in Fort St. James – My homeland.
I left Vancouver with mixed feelings.
Knowing that it will be a while before I call the rainforest home again – (if ever) – I left with a tinge of sadness, mixed with the excitement of knowing I’ll be charting unknown waters in the months to come.
At this point- I had no idea what or where or how or why or when. I did not know what the universe had in store for me come September.
All I knew was that I was coming home. And it was a beautiful and frightening feeling.
Gone are the Vancouver supermarkets and chaos,
to be replaced with the Vegetable gardens I grew up in and my silly puppies greeting me with wet noses and waggy tales.
I had put out a question to my friends and family in the Fort.
“Would you attend yoga classes if I was to teach?”
The response was amazing.
The interest in yoga blossomed in little Fort- and I was so thankful to be able to share the gift of a gentle, holistic Hatha yoga to those who had come searching for it at the gym, the classroom at the Enterprise Centre, the health unit, or at Kwah hall and at the tale end, the beach. My goal was to make yoga accessible to my community and what an adventure that was.
This was exciting and anxiety triggering – I loved the feeling of stepping out of my comfort zone, and stepping on to the instructor’s mat at the front of the room. But could I do it? Were my students happy? Was I skilled enough? Can I do this?
Yes. I can do this.
and by the end of the summer- I wished I was teaching yoga full-time (in a perfect universe this would make enough funds to get me through Art school…) as I had such an amazing and enlightening time with my students. It was as if every time I stepped onto my mat to teach, I myself walked away with a new lesson learned.
This little community I discovered by teaching yoga really opened my eyes to the beauty of Fort St. James.
If you have been, you will have seen the lake, trees, mountains, snow, wildlife, etc.
But that is not the beauty I am talking about.
The beauty I found was within all my students. Every single one- even if they just did one class- they helped me open my eyes to all the amazing people I was surrounded by. It gives me the warm fuzzies just thinking about it.
Every class I taught- I felt more and more whole. Working with your community does that.
*I just can’t help but get all mushy – it’s what I feel and what drew me into the life of a yoga teacher… ALL THIS LOVE!
Teaching 5 yoga classes a week as well as working as a Customer Service Representative at Hub International (Insurance Office/ICBC mini branch) was a big commitment. But in both jobs- I learned so much and worked with amazing people.
I was very busy- the summer went by too fast it seemed.
Summer seems to always slip through my fingers- I’m sure you can agree with me on this.
The weekends where I could simply lounge in a hammock and read my novel, whilst indulging in the sweet breeze drifting off the neighbour’s field were few.
But that does not mean the Summer was meaningless.
The quality time spent with my family, friends, puppies, co-workers, and students made this summer something out of this world. No, I did not lose enough weight to prance around in a bikini, but I was able to plan and execute an Art Show, Apply and be accepted to Yukon School of Visual Arts, and run a mini nomadic yoga business while learning how be a good employee at Barton’s. Mixed with family dinners, laughter, bonding with brothers, meeting the older brother’s lovely girlfriend, campfires, sweat lodge ceremonies, and a healthy dose of dog walking. Somehow looking at it that way- I don’t think I would of had the time to “prance” around in a bikini because life had handed me a plate full of responsibilities. And I took it with Gusto. I also learned that one piece bathing suits are PERFECTLY FINE.
Just have to make sure you stay away from the frumpy ones.
So yes- in mid summer or so I learned that my next journey in life would be heading north.
So with the help of family and friends I packed up all my things, said my goodbyes and thankyous, and gave each of my dogs a big, long, teary emotional hug. (Just thinking about them makes me tear up right now. My little darlings. I miss them so much.)
Mom, Dad, Daniel (younger brother) and I then hit the road- It was a fantastic road trip. I am so glad I was able to drive there instead of fly- as it was a great adventure for all of us.
That trip deserves a post of it’s own -
When we rolled into Dawson City- we hunkered down at Klondike Kate’s in a little cabin. The next few days were spent touring around my new town- since the tourist season was winding down- we caught some of the last tours of the season.
Time once again went by too fast. And soon I found myself moving into a little cabin by the Yukon river and saying goodbye to my family.
Once again the tears, turning into sobbing and consoling each other and those hugs where you don’t want to let go of each other ensued – That was my mother and I. I may or may not have seen dad shed a tear, as I was completely immersed in a bear hug surrounded by dad’s soft flannel work shirt. I then really broke down into a teary, snotty mess when hugging Daniel. The youngest of the family is also the tallest and broadest of shoulder, so once again I felt completely surrounded by his hug. Being siblings and being a teenage boy- getting a hug from Daniel is a very special, rare thing. So I made sure to get the most I could while I had him there. Which also meant he climbed back into the pickup truck with a rather soggy, snot covered shoulder. I could tell he was completely grossed out- as now he would have to drive back to Whitehorse with his older sister’s snot on his shirt. Oops.
I am not a glamorous cryer.
It did not matter how many times I hugged my family goodbye. It felt like I needed another hug, another kiss, another confirmation that yes, I could do this. I can do this. I will do this. All that fear of being on my own hit me like a in the gut. And I think my family could see this. So the hugs continued. More kleenexes were handed out. And more kisses were given.
When the pickup pulled out of the driveway, and drove down front street, I watched it until my family disappeared into the horizon.
Back to B.C.
Taking a deep breath in – the fear parted like ripples in water to allow my excitement to come out of it’s little hiding spot.
I may be scared, but I CAN do this I thought to myself.
Once in my little cabin, I unpacked my pink afghan, sat on my bed, and looked out my window.
That’s when I realized my cabin slightly tilted to the left.
I couldn’t help but laugh.
Most buildings in the Yukon that are built on permafrost have a quirky tilt.
I slipped off my sandals and snuggled up under my pink afghan, looking up at the ceiling.
Before drifting off to sleep (saying goodbye to the most important people in your life is a tiring ordeal) – I could hear the Australians next door start to play the guitar and sing.
With I smile, I let myself relax.
I could hear the chugging of the Dawson Ferry cutting through the strong current of the Yukon River.
My eyelids began to close, the chugging ferry becoming a purr, the yodeling of the Aussie next door turning into a soft murmur.
Another deep breath in, and the little smile turns into a toothy grin.
“Welcome to the Yukon” I thought to myself as I let go of my fear and slipped into a little afternoon nap.
Photo below: Boo and I