After months away due to a demanding work/school schedule, I'm finally back to my morning yoga practice. I'm soooo excited to be back! I enjoy the led classes I've been doing too, but the morning mysore is so centering. I was really, really missing it.

Diving back in, we're working on my back bends. I've spent the past year terrified of back bends because they hurt my lower back. But now we're deconstructing them and taking me back to the start to build up again, and it's been really good. Once I get them a little stronger, sturdier, and bendier I might be ready to start second series. And that's even more exciting!

Joyful

Things I've done recently that make me feel joyful (because today I feel like I need a reminder):

Jumping on a cold spring morning, and taking a picture that makes the front page of flickr's Explore (and is currently sitting in the #2 spot out of all photos uploaded today).

Putting art on my walls. Mostly it's my own art, some photos and some paintings, and it inspires me to continue making more.

Getting my taxes finished under the deadline and sharing orange slurpees with my roommate to celebrate.

Hanging out alone in the CCE archive, digging through boxes and discovering treasures.

Drinking tea and reading Mary Oliver's poetry with Sergei curled up on my lap.

Riding my bicycle as fast as I can on the trail along Saskatchewan drive so that my eyes tear up from the wind.

Composting, recycling, and realising that I now live in a home where every day is Earth Day.

Practicing yoga in the warm, orange, sunny studio at the Yoga Loft, surrounded by friends.

Playing music and singing with friends.

Things I'm enamoured with:

The North
I love the idea of the Arctic. Stories about the Klondike keep my absolutely rapt. Today I picked up a book called The Klondike Quest by Pierre Berton and I'm so taken by the photos of men (and a few women) who tried their luck trekking through great expanses of frozen land only to find that their camp had disappeared under 50 feet of snow when they return, and other such stories.

I also love the idea of the seasons in the North. I hope some day to experience the thrill of the first sunrise following 6 weeks of dark...

China
I'm not sure why, but I eat up everything I can find about contemporary China. For years now I've been deeply fascinated by their politics and economy and culture. Mostly I read magazine and newspaper articles, of which there are no shortage. It all just seems so magical to me, the scheming and control and planning and the way the people react to it all so positively in many respects.

Lamps
I have five lamps in my bedroom. I have to skip past the lamp section during my Ikea visits with my gaze to the floor or else I risk coming home with two or three more. I love how different lamps create different types of light, and how I can combine them to get it just right.

Jump shots
As in photos of jumping. They are so fun to shoot, and I love how each shot is totally different from the one before it. I like them all, from the stills where the subject could be floating up or just suspended, to the ones with lots of blur and motion.


There are many more things, but now it's bedtime. Tonight I'm enamoured with my warm flanel sheets, pillows, hudson bay blanket (that's a whole other story because I'm deeply enamoured with the idea of the Hudson Bay Company as part of Canada's history), and a warm kitten curled up on my legs.

Inside and Outside

I've been thinking a lot lately about where to put my energy: focusing inward on my inner spiritual self or focusing outwards on my community. Of course it doesn't need to be one or the other, but I feel like one is bound to become a higher priority for me.

I've spent the past 5 months focusing almost entirely inwardly. I've been struggling with getting my act together so that I could take care of myself again. I love yoga, and it immediately became my sanctuary where I could let go of the anxious and destructive thoughts in my head. I was so inwardly focused that it wasn't until about mid-January that I even had a conversation or gave anything more than a short greeting to anyone I practiced with.

But since then, I've started opening up again. While I'm still a little broken inside (who isn't?) my focus has begun to move outwards again. I have a strong desire to begin working with an organisation that is working to fight homelessness in Edmonton, and I want to live an environmentally responsible lifestyle. I want to surround myself with interesting people and share good conversation and meaningful experiences with them.

During yoga practice a couple of weeks ago, the instructor read a passage from a book as we were coming to the end of svasana. I forget the details, but the main idea was that our bodies are our temples, and we must treat them as such by respecting them and focusing on nourishing them. While I agree that those things are necessary for a health lifestyle, I wouldn't go so far as to say my body is my temple. I prefer to think of my community as a kind of temple, and that I serve my community as a channel for God's love.

Now, I know that's an odd-sounding thing for me to say. I'm still not really sure what I believe. I narrowed it down a little while back, and I think that I believe in the idea of God. I love the idea of a heavenly father, but I don't really believe he's there in the sky or anywhere in particular. I love the ideas of heaven, of resurrection, of redemption, of forgiveness for sins, of eternal love. But I don't really believe in a person who grants those things. I savour the ideas of them, and I often live as though I believe them. But I savour the feeling that I'm comfortable with not believing in them. Or at least with not knowing if they exist. I suppose that makes me agnostic, or something or other.

A colleague of mine told me the most wonderful story the other night. He was chatting with a gospel singer about why he sings. They talked about ministry, about the feeling of singing, about history and tradition. My colleague asked, "how does music help you attain redemption?" The man replied, "We don't sing for redemption--the singing is our redemption!"

We raise our voices together and sing our redemption. How perfectly right and beautiful.

Evensong

Tonight I went to my first evensong service at St. Luke's. We closed with this prayer, which moved me deeply: "O Lord, support us all the day long of this troublous life, until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes, the busy world is hushed, the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then, Lord, in thy mercy, grant us safe lodging, a holy rest, and peace at the last; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

I've only just recently started going to church services again, but so far it's only been a positive experience. During the past year I've begun exploring my spirituality on a variety of levels, and while I don't have any answers yet as to what I believe, I'm deeply enjoying this journey.

The service this evening was quite lovely. The congregation was quite small, perhaps 12 people and another 7 in the choir. I enjoyed the intimacy of the gathering, the quiet and calm atmosphere. Normally at St. Luke's we use the Book of Alternative Services, but tonight we returned to old Book of Common Prayer. I really enjoyed the language of the text and the highly interactive quality; it was far more responsorial than our regular service. I also like that there was a great deal of scripture cited right in the service in addition to the readings.

Pastor Dan gave a particularly good sermon on the importance of living humbly and being grateful for the blessings we have. He talked about how we often envy the lucky few who have so much, but that their position is perilous and fraught, and it's a long fall from that peak.

One of the hymns we sang was "Abide with Me." I remember that was Aaron's favourite hymn, or so he told me. I can't remember if we sang it at his funeral, but we should have if we didn't. Whenever I sing it I think of him.

It was strange, and more than a little sad, to realise that I was the youngest member of the congregation by a full generation. I wonder sometimes what will happen to St. Luke's as their congregation shrinks over the next 15 or 20 years. I suppose it will probably be subsumed by another similarly shrinking church in the neighbourhood. When that happens it will be a hard thing for me. I have so many memories in that church--in the building and with the people.

Blog? what blog?

We're already a quarter of the way through 2009, and it feels simultaneously like days and years since I last posted here. Lots has happened:

I finished my internship in DC on Oct 31, 2008 and moved back to Edmonton
I started working for the Canadian Centre for Ethnomusicology again
I discovered a dormant love for photography
I became addicted to ashtanga yoga
I moved out of my parents' house for the second time
I was reunited with my wonderful kitten
I returned to an annual singing for the first time

Throughout all of this and more, I've been battling in an ongoing fight with mental health issues--which I finally seem to be winning. One of the main reasons I haven't posted here in so long is that when I'm struggling so hard with myself, I just don't know what write. I'm not interested in sharing the deep, dark, inner workings of my crazy here, and I doubt anyone would want to read that anyways. No, this blog is place for me to share the joyful things in my life, of which there are many. And now that I've remembered that, I'm ready to begin writing again.

The three greatest joys in my life right now are music, photography, and yoga. And I try to mix these things together as often as possible. I'm playing and singing fairly regularly, and I'm participating in a daily self-portrait challenge on flickr. I practice yoga at The Yoga Loft at least 3 times a week, and the difference in my strength and flexibility since I've started is astounding.

Now I'm getting ready to move again into an exciting new home with awesome roommates, start a new project at work, and set out on my first large-scale collaborative photography project. Things are looking pretty exciting in Edmonton for the first time in a while.

Fall, Soup, and Photography

I know I've been MIA for weeks now, but life has just been so busy that my little blog fell by the wayside. Fall has been lovely, though not nearly as lovely as I was anticipating. As short as Edmonton's fall is, it really is far more beautiful than DC's fall.

Following are two short updates on my life:


1. Here's a recipe for the delicious fall soup I made tonight:

1 shallot
1 butternut squash (cut in half and roasted for about 45 min at 375F)
3-4 baby sweet potatoes (roasted with the squash)
2-3 apples, chopped
4 cups broth
1 tbs ginger, chopped
salt and pepper to taste

Let the roasted veggies cool for a little while before finishing the soup. Then chop the shallots and sweat them in some oil at the bottom of your soup pot. Add the broth and the rest of the ingredients. Cook on low for about 30-45 min. Blend. Eat!

So yummy and a lovely shade of orange!


2. I bought a new camera, and I've been busily photographing, photoshopping, and posting to my flickr page (http://www.flickr.com/photos/talulayu/) Check them out! Comment! I've been having sooo much fun with it all.

Fiddling Workshop

Yesterday I went to a fiddling workshop with Folkways artist Tony DeMarco at McGinty's pub in Silver Spring. I was in way over my head, and there were a dozen kids there playing circles around me, but it was still fun and I learned a lot. He does Irish fiddling in the style of the Sligo Indians, which isn't exactly the style I want to learn, but I'm still such a beginner that I learn useful things everywhere I go. And he's a really interesting guy with lots of great stories about the fiddling scene in New York and lots of knowledge about the history of the music.

Shameless plug: His album is great too, check it out on Folkways!

Martin Puryear

Today during my late lunch break I decided to go see the Martin Puryear exhibit at the National Gallery. It was incredible! The brochure calls him "post-minimalist," although the work seemed very minimalist to me, despite being huge pieces. A Flickr search brings up some really great photos of his pieces at a few different galleries.

My favourite piece was Self. It's a monolithic black piece and part of a series examining space and hollowness in his work. I was particularly drawn to this one because it is a solid black wood shape that was built around a armature that was later removed. It's also one of the few that was painted (most are unfinished wood and other materials). So it's a work that is highly refined on the outside, yet its most important feature is completely hidden from onlookers. I love that it is so unknowable, like so many things in life.

Dear Aaron:

Today is the third anniversary of your death. After you died, Chris told me that eventually I would remember the good things and forget the bad things. I still remember the hurt and pain as clear as day, but I can finally remember the good things too, and they are what I prefer to think of now when I remember you.

I remember what an amazing musician you were. You were a fantastic trumpet player; you could scream out those lead lines like heroes you studied so carefully. Not only could you play the instrument well, but you knew all the little idiomatic details of the music you played. I remember how you called yourself "El Gato" after Cat Anderson and signed all your emails EG. And how proud you sounded when you told me the guys on the QEII nicknamed you Cunard Ferguson, a combination of the ship line you were on and Maynard. And oh, I remember when you got that Maynard play-along cassette and had to pull your slide all the way out to play with it because it was so flat. You did it though, and you could get every note.

You inspired me to be a better musician. You told me to play my bari "like a big 'ole black man," and I did. You told me to "blow it hard," and I did. I remember the hours we spent sitting in the living room playing Aebersoldes, you coaxing and coaching the jazz out of me. I got to play with the symphony, you know. I think you would have been proud of that. I don't really play any more, but whenever I listen to jazz I remember you. I think you would like the music that I sing now. It's different from your music, but it's beautiful. It's the sort of music that you can throw yourself into and let everything go. Your favourite hymn isn't in the book, but there are plenty that I think you would love.

I remember the way you looked when you heard something in the music that was especially great. You'd sit back in your chair (the brown and white threadbare one), you'd put your hands out with the fingers splayed, and you'd smile so that I could see that crooked tooth we called "'Ole Chomper." Then you'd get up and rewind it again and again. Whenever I imagine you in my mind it's always in that chair, smiling at the clever line you just heard.

I remember the way you used to read with me. Some of my happiest memories are of times we went out for coffee or lunch with our books and magazines and sat together and read. Except we spent more time reading to each other and talking about it than actually reading. Whenever I read a Harper's or Atlantic or New Yorker I think of you. You taught me how to really appreciate the words I read, and you taught me how to care about the words I wrote. Before I met you I would write carelessly, but you showed me how to respect the written word, and to cherish it. How to loose myself in it.

I remember how you used to love driving out in the country. You'd tell me about your grandparents and your time spent up in Grande Prairie. We'd reminisce about growing up on the prairies, yet both in different worlds. I remember the time we were driving to band camp and the car broke down. Nobody else could find us because we'd taken a scenic route that day. It was so cold out, and we walked through the snow to a farm house near by. The old woman who answered the door was so generous, and called her friends at the Morinville towing company to come get us. While we waited she made us instant coffee, and you (who loved your coffee even more than I do) drank it thankfully. And when we left, I remember you said, "did you see the shotgun by the door? Good thing she didn't answer the door with that."

I remember the little boy inside of you. The one who became giddy at the sight of trains and airplanes. The one who got engrossed in stories, books and games about military history. Your handsome face would light up if we got stopped at a train crossing, and we'd sit and count the cars as they passed. You'd tell me how the train worked, and what was probably being carried in all the freight cars. I remember the year I bought you a flight in a Cessna 4-seater for your birthday. I know it wasn't your first time up in one of those, but we sure had a great time flying all around the city for an hour.

I remember the day you died. I was at work and my mom called to tell me. She picked me up and we went and spent the afternoon with your family. I hadn't seen them in a long time, and we just prayed and hugged and sat and cried together. I was in shock for a long time. Everything I did felt absurd for months afterwards. I think you would appreciate this: On your death certificate, under place of death there's just a longitude and latitude listing. I've always thought that was appropriate.

Your funeral was one of the hardest days of my life. I bought a new outfit and I styled my hair. I remember that for some reason it was very important to me that I look my best that day. I didn't visit you at the funeral home because I decided I didn't want to see you that way; I want to keep remembering you as alive and warm, not cold and lifeless. When they brought in your coffin my heart broke. I hadn't seen you in a long time, and the thought that the man I loved, and shared my life with, and whom I thought I would share my whole future with was only inches away on the other side of some thin wood made me feel as though my body was being torn apart. At the interment I didn't want to leave. I sat alone with you for a long time, but I could see that the workers wanted to finish their job and go home, so eventually I tore myself away. I sure hope they're all right and you're up in heaven now.

I remember our wedding day. It was one of my happiest days, and is one my most cherished memories. When I walked down the aisle and saw you looking at me with such adoration I felt like a princess. I felt like everything would be okay. Better than okay even. We were so in love, and you challenged me and made me a better person. I don't believe that I made the wrong choice in marrying you, even though it ended so badly. You were brilliant and handsome and warm and generous in spite of all your flaws, and I think we would have been very happy if you had somehow managed to fight off your demons.

Almost every day I catch a glimpse of you from behind out of the corner of my eye. I know it's not really you, but I like to think it is. It comforts me to think that you might be watching me grow and change. I'm stronger now, and more confident. I'm not someone who lets herself be hurt and used by people any more, and I think you'd be proud of me.

The happy times that you and I shared together are precious and so special. We shared something that neither of us had or will have with any other person. I am who I am now because of you; you're a part of me and you always will be. I think of you every day, and I always will.

Love,
Jessica

My first music blog-type post

So I bought this violin... and tonight Niyati came over and taught me part of a new song, so I thought I'd use it for my first music blog post. It's in Raga Ashamand, and is a piece that she learned in UofA Indian Music Ensemble. Warning: I can't play in tune yet, but I'm getting better every day!


raga ashamand at Muziboo.com

Tattoo and Fiddle

This week I made two big purchases: a tattoo and a fiddle. I'm so happy with them both!

I got the tattoo on Tuesday from a great artist named Nelson at Pinz N Needlz on U st in DC. It took him 3 hours to free-hand the art onto my body, then another 3.5 hours to do the actual tattoo. Man, it hurt so bad, but it was definitely worth it. Now it's almost healed and it's so beautiful! I'll be going back in August to have some more shading added to it, but that will be considerably less painful than the lettering was.

On Friday I got the fiddle from House of Musical Traditions in Takoma Park. It's got a beautiful sound and I've been practicing a lot this weekend. I named it Chloe. It got a lot of action on Friday night at her going-away party, so it seemed only fair. I'm looking forward to becoming an old-timey fiddler and I can already scratch out a few songs! I have happy blisters on my fingers that make me smile every time I look at them.

Soup and Poetry

I've spent this evening on my front porch with Ophelia the cat, the fireflies, and the fog under the terrifying hum of the cicadas eating soup and reading Lorca. Here is the pantry recipe I used tonight, which turned out quite to be delicious, and one of the poems from his set of Ghazals that I read over and over. I love all eleven of them, and it was hard to choose just one to share.

Bean Soup

2 cups stock
1 big clove garlic
2 shallots
3 carrots
1 can black beans
1 cup soy beans (but I think 2 cans of black beans would be better)
handful cilantro
2 bay leaves
1 dry red chili, whole with seeds removed
zest of one lemon (but lime would be better)
salt to taste

Sautee onions and garlic. Add stock and bring to a gentle boil. Add carrots and beans and seasonings. Cook until everything is soft. Remove the bay leaves and chili and blend until smooth. I added some juice from the lemon when I served it, maybe garnish with more cilantro.


IX. Ghazal of Flight
by Federico García Lorca (transl. Catherine Brown)

I have often been lost on the sea
with my ear full of fresh-cut flowers
with my tongue full of agony and love.
Often I have been lost on the sea,
as I am lost in the heart of certain children.

There is no one who can kiss
without feeling the smile of those without faces;
there is no one who can touch
an infant and forget the immobile skulls of horses.

Because roses search the forehead
for a hard landscape of bone,
and human hands have no more sense
than to mimic roots beneath the soil.

As I am lost in the heart of certain children,
I have often been lost on the sea.
Not knowing water, I keep looking
to be consumed in luminous death.

Park Hunters

On the way home from the metro today, two young girls ran in front of me on the path through the park and yelled, "YOU CAN'T PASS!!"

"Are you monsters?" I replied.

"Naw, we're hunters. We're hunting the squirrels and the birds. We live in the park over by that tree there."

"What do you do with the animals after you hunt them?"

"We eat them, of course."

"How do you cook them?"

"With fire." She pointed to a small pile of sticks a little ways away. "See, you rub them sticks together until they make smoke, and then you get fire."

"Ah yes," I answered knowingly. "I've tried that before. It's hard."

The look of wonder spread across her face and her eyes opened wide. "Have you did it?"

"Nope! Like I said, it's hard. But I bet you could do it."

Then they took me for a tour of park, pointing out all the special trees--one was a couch, a shower, a TV, a refrigerator--and told me all about being squirrel hunters in the park. Then I thanked them and wished them luck, and came home to cook non-make-believe food for dinner.

Happy Canada Day!

To celebrate today, I went to the Canadian embassy for the party there. I waited in line for a long time to get in, and as far as parties go, it was a little bit lame. However, I can't express how fulfilling it was to spend an hour surrounded by people from my home going through a similar experience of dislocation as me. We sang the anthem and made small talk in English and French. There was free poutine and beer for everyone, and an inflatable hockey game for the kids. Red and white and people with little Canada flags temporary-tattooed on their faces abounded, and we all got miniature flags to wave enthusiastically.

After work I went with Chloe and Matt to meet with my tattoo artist and discuss the design I'm getting. I made an appointment for next Tuesday! I'll post pics asap. Afterwards we went to Ben's Chili Bowl and I had my first chilidog. Oh man oh man, it had to be one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten. And we got the added pleasure of making all sorts of innuendos as we ate.

Now I've spent the evening chatting about boys with my roommates, photoshopping and listening to music. A fun and relaxing Canada day, all in all.

Lightning and Fireflies

Tonight it's hot and the air is heavy. After it got dark I sat on the front steps for an hour watching the most incredible lightning storm I've ever seen. The lightning flashed almost constantly above me, mostly staying high in the clouds, but occasionally appearing below to strike something on the ground. The thunder came in a continuous low rumble, punctuated by loud cracks when the lightning struck close. There was no rain, just eerily still, oppressive air.

As I watched the lightning fireflies came out and began flashing in the street and yard in front of me. I saw my first firefly up close the day I arrived in DC, but this is the first time that I've seen them all around me. They flashed on the periphery of my vision, sometimes fooling me into thinking that they were a trick of my eyes and not really there.

Planets

Today the Folklife Festival opened on the Mall. I went over to the opening ceremony this morning, which was kind of boring, and checked out the Bhutanese temple. It's very beautiful, especially up close. I didn't walk through it though so I'll have to make sure to do that next time. The festival looks like it will be really great and I'm looking forward to spending more time there.

After lunch the office was so lonely with everyone down on the mall. I nodded off a little 2, but some tea and cookies fixed me up. The, like the nerd that I am, I had a major victory over my javascript. I learned how to reduce our popup window javascript from about 8 lines of code plus an extra file to a single line of code. Yay me! Also, yesterday I created our header template using only CSS instead of having to create each one in Photoshop, which will save a lot of work down the road. It's okay if you don't understand this geek-talk, but both were things that I wanted to do during my previous internship and didn't get the chance for several reasons. And both got surprisingly good reviews from my supervisor.

After work I went to the National Museum of the American Indian to see the "Space Philharmonic" (actually the NSO) play Holst's "The Planets" with a slideshow of NASA images as an add-on event to the Festival. The acoustics in the atrium weren't the greatest, but I just love that museum and the music was great. The only thing I didn't like was that in between each movement they stopped so that someone could read a blurb about the plant. It sort of killed the flow for me, but it was free and I still enjoyed it a lot.

Tomorrow evening I head back out to Baltimore for singing, which is always one of the highlights of my week.

Saturday Afternoon

I'm sitting on the front porch of my new home with Ophelia the cat, eating squash soup that I made in the spring. The porch is filled with flowers and herbs cultivated by my roommate, and is perfect in every way. I just watched a small sparrow fly into the crevices of the awning where it must have a nest, and a moment later I could hear the urgent twittering sounds baby birds waiting to be fed.

The air is hot, but the breeze is cool and it's a lovely slow Saturday afternoon. After such a busy, exhausting week there is nothing better than to sit on the porch eating soup, listening to baby birds, and soaking in the summer air.

Many changes

Well, I'm back in DC again for more internship fun (but this time with a paycheque). I've been too exhausted to update in a while, but hopefully this weekend will offer the opportunity to catch up on some much needed sleep. I just got home from my first Baltimore weekly singing in over a month, and it was sooo good to see and sing with my b'more friends again.

I've discovered that along with all the life changes (permanent relocation from my hometown, for example) I've had a strong desire and finally the guts to make body modifications too. I got my nose pierced a couple of weeks ago and yesterday I started stretching my ears. They hurt really bad, but I think it'll feel better in a couple of days. My face feels so full of stuff after wearing almost no jewellery for many years... it's disconcerting a little but also a lot of fun. Pictures will come soon when I have the energy to think about it again.

I sold or gave away most of my stuff in Edmonton, which has been a scary and exciting adventure. Also stressful at times. I think I like the idea of not being tied down to stuff, but since I'm still living in this crazy limbo with no bed or pillows or boxes I'm not sure yet. Tomorrow I will get a proper bed and some small bedroom furniture items, and make it more comfortable.

Off to bed now for what will hopefully be a better night's sleep than last night. I'll write more soon!

Coming Through Slaughter

Aaron bought me a copy of this book by Michael Ondaatje years ago, and I'm only just reading it now. It's incredible! It's a wonderful and compelling mixture of prose and poetry, and so far the characters are riveting. It's about a jazz trumpeter named Benny Bolden in New Orleans at the turn of the 20th century:

He was the best and loudest and most loved jazzman of his time, but never professional in the brain. Unconcerned with the crack of the lip he threw out and held immense notes, could reach a force on the first note that attacked the ear. He was obsessed with the magic of air, those smells that turned neuter as they revolved in his lung then spat out in the chosen key. The way the side of his mouth would drag a net of air in and dress it in notes and make it last and last, yearning to leave it up there in the sky like air transformed into cloud. He could see the air, could tell where it was freshest in a room by the colour.