This Hamster is FOCUSED...

First of all, Shanti-towners, thank you!  Because, Shanti Town has now hit 100 followers!  Small potatoes in the blog-o-sphere at large, but a big deal for this lady, so thank you, very much!  I'm so happy to have you all here!

Ahem.  On with the show.

The other day, in the midst of my third wedding-related melt-down in as many days, whilst trying to explain my deep state of overwhelm to my very amazing soon-to-be husband, he gently (as is his way) pointed out to me that perhaps part of the problem wasn't the amount of work to be done, but the way in which I was trying to go about doing it.  He reminded me that often it is my habit to try and carry around and accomplish all things at all times, instead of setting out to do just one thing in an allotted amount of time.

The problem, in other words, was focus.

(And just for clarity's sake, let me just say...we are BOTH very involved in the wed-planning.  This is not one of those bride doing all the work until she makes herself crazy, situations.  Just so ya know.  I'm just more prone to, um...crying.)

Okay, so...where was I?

Oh, right.  Focus.

Sooooooo...my wise mister suggests it might be about focus.  And as soon as he says it, I think back to an interview I had been (re)listening to the day before, with these two writers/parents of an autistic child, about autism.  And in the interview at one point the dad talks about how one of the traits common in people with autism is the ability to focus really deeply on something, to the exclusion of all other things.  He talked about how this was also a notable trait in most people we consider masters or geniuses, and I remember thinking, even at the time...argh! I'm doomed!!  

Not because I don't know how to focus, I do...but because I forget, so often, the importance of focus and instead let the guise of obsessive productivity take it's place.

And I thought about what it's like, you know, to really focus on something...the way that the whole world can just drop away and time sort of fans out, like it might just go on forever.  You know that feeling?

So, with all this on my mind and in preparation for classes, I took it to the books...specifically to The Heart of Yoga by Mr. TKV Desikachar (a famous yogi dude), to get a refresher course on the last three limbs of yoga:  Dhāraṇā, Dhyāna, and Samādhi.

Okay, brief primer: Dhāraṇā is the sixth limb of yoga (of the famed eight limbs that make up the backbone of the yoga philosophy) and it is, essentially, concentration.

Dhyāna, is the seventh limb, otherwise known as, meditation, and;

Samādhi, the eighth limb, which is bliss...absorption...the big tamale, the grand prize at the end of it all: enlightenment, yo.

Okay, so, these last three limbs...they're my favorite (philosophically), because of how beautifully they work together and what a smooth final progression they form to lead a body to bliss.  Basically it works like this:

In Dhāraṇā, when you're focused on a singular object (or person or idea, or whatever)...your mind is quiet and moving in just one direction, toward the object of your focus.  You're checking it out, you're learning about it, you're mind is on it, and only on it.  You're focused.

And if you keep doing this for awhile, you get to move up a level, to Dhyāna...meditation.  When you're in Dhyāna, you've still got this movement of your mind and your attention in the direction of your chosen object, but NOW, you've also got stuff coming back at you, from said object.  It's vibing you back.  And so inspirations are arising in you from the object, insights come seemingly out of nowhere...but it's not nowhere, it's just that the lines of communication have been opened (thanks to your dutiful focus) and now energy is moving in two directions, back and forth.  This is Dhyāna.

And last but not least...if you can hang with your meditation, this deepened state of focus, something amazing might just happen...instead of you just sending your attention out to the object or it sending something back at you...now you and the object become one and the same.  There is no more you.  There is no more object of attention.  You are subsumed, consumed, by one another.  And this is Samādhi.  This is bliss.

And isn't it, though?  Isn't that bliss?  To be so deeply involved in what you're doing, in what's right in front of you that the whole world, and you, and it...just disappear?  I think this is just the most perfect description what deep focus is.

But the magic...the amazing part of this whole process, is that you can't just sit down and DO it.  You can't sit down and say, now I'm going to be in Samādhi, or even, now I'm going to focus, because if your mind is wild or distracted or upset, well...good f-ing luck.   These are organic states, that arise organically, so the only thing you can do to practice them, is to cultivate an environment that might just have fertile ground from which they can grow.

And that's why we practice.
And that's why we breathe.

And that's why, when we get overwhelmed, it might behoove us just to go for a walk, or read some lovely something, or just sit on our little porch and drink some tea and let the wind brush against us.

Like I am going to go and do...right. now.

Not Yet Neanderthal Bride...

It's sort of horrifying that if you do a Google Image search for pictures of "stressed bride" you mainly get pictures back of brides LOSING their f-ing MINDS.  The photo above is one of the few I could find that didn't make me feel like I was succumbing to some kind of crazy sexist bridezilla mongering.  This is the cultural signifier for bride-dom I guess, just lots of pictures of women turning into raging you-know-whats...there were even several cartoon images of brides dragging their grooms around by the hair.

Yikes.

Please don't concern yourselves, Shanti-towners...there are very few things in this world that could compel me to drag my groom around by his hair.  One would be if there was some kind of natural disaster, he was passed out, and for some reason the only part of his body that I had access to, in order to rescue him from the burning building or what-have-you, was his hair.  The second would be if he thought that it would be fun.

I can't think of a third right now...

Which is a nice segue into my next point: that, currently, I am having trouble keeping much of my focus on anything that isn't wedding related.  I'm mustering all my non-wedding energy to get my ass to class both to practice and to teach, but that means, unfortunately, that my blogging/podcasting/ruminating has fallen a bit by the wayside.  Temporarily.

I've been feeling particularly guilty about this, as I have lots of new readers...hello out there!  Who I'm very excited to have here.  (Um...whom?  Should that be "whom I'm very excited to have here"?)  And I just want you to know that I'm around, I haven't gone anywhere, I've just been solving last-minute dress and venue issues and generally obsessing about all things wedding, and am determined not to accidentally turn Shanti-town into a wedding blog in the interim!  So, you'll just have to forgive me if my posting regularity dwindles to only once or twice per week over the next couple months.

I love you, Shanti-towners and I am, at this very minute, composing a juicy post about open hips, butchering of Indian names, and why I shouldn't pretend to know more about Indian holidays than I do....Oh, and why Louis C.K. is a goddamn genius.

Stay tuned!!

Coastal Opposites

Shanti-towners!  I'm here!  I promise!  The big day is fast approaching (zee wedding), and things are getting a little nutso in the Aprile/Willis household, so please forgive my sporadic blog absences.

Last week we were in Brooklyn, taking care of some business and having our respective bachelor and bachelorette parties.  All I have to say about that is that at one point during the evening I was being paraded down the streets of NYC wearing a red feather boa, some body jewelry that made me look like I'd broken out in a cubic zirconia rash, a "Miss Bachelorette" sash, my very man-ish sunglasses, and a crown of plastic penises.

Yes, you read that right.

At one point during this delightfully humiliating journey, a woman entered the elevator we were giggling in, took one look at me and said, very demurely, "do you realize you have falluses on your head?"

Yes, I told her. Yes, I am.

But, this is not my point, Shanti Towners! (though it was a great night, and I'm very thankful to everyone who was there and who made it that way).

Ahem.

There were two things, outside of all the wedding festivities and the sweet time with my mister that I was most excited about for the trip to NY:

1.  A visit to my beloved Laughing Lotus.  For weeks leading up to my trip I was fantasizing about whose classes I would take--salivating over the prospect of moving and breathing and sweating in the way only Laughing Lotus can get me to move and breathe and sweat.  And;

2.  A visit to the new Anusara studio that has opened up in my DUMBO neighborhood.  Anusara is just now starting to make it's way into the yoga forefront in New York, and I was really looking forward to taking a class at this new studio (a block and a half from our apartment, no less!  Where was this place 2 years ago?!).

The class at Abhaya Yoga, the anusara studio in DUMBO, came first.  The studio itself is GORGeous.  It's on the 6th floor of one of the big warehouse-y buildings in the neighborhood, and the windows of the room look out over the east river and the manhattan bridge.  Ah, sigh. Right away upon arriving the teacher introduced herself to me, which bode well, and I set myself up in the back-ish row of the class, prepared for some Anursara, east-coast style.  It was a small group in the class--just five or six people--which I'm familiar with from my own teach-ifiying at newer studios in Los Angeles.  And she seemed sweet, the teacher, and knowledgeable...

I'm hesitating a little here, because this teacher obviously knew her stuff, obviously cared deeply about the practice, and even though I spent the first half of class being annoyed by the way she was cooing at me, and everyone else, like beginners (Moi?! A beginner?! I think noooooot!)--even with all that, she was relentless in her likeability, and I knew that I was just being kind of piggy anyhow, silently demanding to be acknowledged.  (Very yogic, I know.)  So, I didn't dislike her (not by the end, at least), and she did this great splits-up-the-wall thing that I am immediately stealing and adding to my repertoire.  So it was by no means a baaaaaaaaaad class.

But I still walked away disappointed.

The practice, while smart--I could tell she was opening up the body in the right away and building up toward something--was so...herky-jerky.  It was my least favorite kind of sequencing: Do a pose.  Stop.  Do another pose.  Stop.  Do another pose.  Etc., etc., etc.  There was no linking together of movement, whatsoever, no transitioning from one place to another--just: do this...and then that...and then that.

I know that this isn't uncommon, and is a totally valid way of teaching, but for me...for my little over-active brain...I need the fluidity of movement.  I need to feel like I'm traveling through my practice.  I need something to connect me really fully with my breath, and to get me to start actually feeling the movement of energy in my body, and the movement of my body in my space.

There was none of that.  And I missed it.

So, the next day, when it came time for Laughing Lotus-a-rama...I was even more excited for class.  (My excitement was only slightly dulled by the hangover from my bachelorette party the night before.  Thank you late-night tequila shots.)  I was ready to moooooooooove.  To floooooooow.  And, though I was disappointed that my NY schedule was only going to allow me time for one class, and only an hour-long one at that, I managed to time it out so I could take with one of my favorite teachers at the Lotus.  Ali Cramer. Fire-y goddamn goddess that she is.

The class was packed--not uncommon for a late-afternoon Friday Lotus class--there might have been close to 50 people in the room, and we were mat to mat to mat.  Which, I know drives some  people bonkers about popular studios, but I kind of love it...especially when we're moving.  And move we did.  Ali is a genius sequencer (later that night I actually lulled myself to sleep by re-remembering some of the best transitions from the afternoon's class).  I get a lot of deep visceral joy from moving the way we move in a Lotus class and unlike the teacher at the Anusara studio, Ali is someone I feel particularly SEEN by.  Even with that many people in class, I know she knows I'm there, and I know she's reading my joy and she likey.

So, it was great, people, it was a great class.  No surprise there, because Ali is an amazing teacher.

But...

Oh gosh.

I still left a little...disappointed.

I mean, SO MUCH of what I love is contained in those classes...so much creative, soulful, graceful, rockin' expression.  But, I also have this new hunger that I didn't have before...something that's been nurtured since living in LA...and that's the hunger to slow down and to go deep.  To take real time in some of the poses and explore and breathe and tinker.  And when it's not there...I miss it.

So, for the last few days I've been thinking about these two classes--each of them on exact opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of what I'm exploring and interested in--thinking only, THIS is the gap I am trying to bridge.  And wondering...is it possible to create a class that is both creatively sequenced, rhythmic and hypnotic AND one which contains slow deep alignment work?

It seems to me that the goal of a Vinyasa class, like the kind taught at the Lotus, is not so much about the body as it is about the spirit.  The breath, the chanting, the ceaseless movement...it's really about liberating a body FROM the body and putting him or her right in contact with prana.  With the flow--with that mysterious movement of that even more mysterious life-force.

And, if the Vinyasa is a telescope, moving one through the practice in order to get a bigger and bigger view of the universe, then Anusara is a microscope, just honing deeper and deeper in on the little machinations of the body.  Sure, yes, the ultimate goal is still freedom, but in the Anusara, it's deeply rooted in the proper alignment of the flesh (in the hopes that alignment will then consequently align the mind and the heart). And it's not so much about the ecstatic devotional joy like the Vinyasa.

I find myself often in my teaching moving in one direction and then the other, trying to find a middle ground...moving and then restraining.  Going slow and deep and then revving back into movement again.  I think it's possible, it must be, to taste both the wide expansive view and the deep subtle interior in a single class.  Because, this isn't an unfamiliar struggle.  Even the planning of our wedding has felt like this at times--a movement between big bold strokes of creativity and the quiet subtle changes that come from deep conversation and silent soul-searching.  It's just a movement between these two things...trying to let one inform the other, in the hopes that, in the end, something will arise which will contain both.  The quiet and the wild.  The still and the rhythmic.

Is it possible, Shanti Towners?  I sure hope so....

I Ain't No Turtle...

Yesterday morning I reached my to-do list limit.  And though I feel slightly shame-faced about writing yet another treatise about how overwhelmed I am, I do have to say that it's a miracle that all of my class themes and blog posts haven't revolved entirely around wedding planning.  I think I've done a pretty good job of restraining myself, considering.

But, yesterday I hit some kind of a tipping point.

There are 78 days until my wedding, according to Wedding Wire, and I have a feeling the craziness is just beginning (a married friend of mine confirmed that yes, it is just beginning).  And as it is with these things (because the busier it gets, the busier it gets) along with all of the wedding paraphernalia, we are finding ourselves simultaneously faced with cars to fix and furniture to replace and subtenants to wrangle (I won't bore you with all the details).

We are full up with things which require copious amounts of internet research, and equally copious amounts of money spending.  And, as if that all weren't topsy-turvy enough, yesterday we began housesitting/dogsitting for some friends of ours and their giant adorable puppy...which, having never taken care of a dog full-time before, feels to me like I have just inherited a toddler.

Heh heh.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love these friends and I love love love this dog.  And they are generously letting us stay in their crazily gorgeous home while they're away, so the dog-tending is a welcome trade-off.  And, I love this dog.  Have I mentioned that I love this dog?  I love him.  He is giant and lumbering and sweet-natured and if you let him he would just spend hours licking your hands and face.  He's a joy.

But that first day...waking up early to scoot over to their house to walk the dog and then carting him off to doggy-day-care and then teaching two classes and then coming back and picking him up from daycare, hoping he was worn out enough from his playtime that he would sleep through the several hours we would be gone at a rehearsal, re-reading the instructions list his owners left to make sure I was feeding him right and walking him right and generally not messing him up in any way, and then trying to jam in time to write and time to practice and time to have wed-planning phone calls...it was a lot, people.  It. Was. A. Lot.

I could just feel my mind starting to spin faster and faster as the day progressed...this and then this and then this and then and then and then...so when I found myself with 30 minutes of downtime, I knew what I needed to do. (Oh my god, is someone actually becoming a grown-up?)

I brewed myself a cup of tea, I took it out to the beautiful deck with the beautiful view and sat myself in a beautiful wrought-iron chair to drink it.  I didn't bring my phone (well, I did...but just so I could keep my eye on time), I didn't bring a book or a notepad...just me and my cup of tea.  And I told myself if I didn't have time today to practice or to meditate or to even just slow the heck down, then at the very least I would take this 30 minutes and do nothing but breathe and drink in the view (and my beverage).

I watched a hummingbird alight on a dangling feeder to eat.  I pondered the nameless bluebell flowers that grow up here in the Silverlake hills.  I smelled my tea.  I drank my tea.  I breathed in and out.

And as I sat there and breathed and drank and relished, I began to think about Pratyahara.  Pratyahara is the fifth of the 8 limbs of yoga, and loosely translated it means, "withdrawal of the senses."  This, not surprisingly, is a not the most popular of the yogic limbs.  Mainly because it sounds horrendously boring.  People always talk about turtles when they talk about pratyahara--a turtle retreating into it's shell--which to me makes it sound not just boring, but also kind of sad, like one of those cartoon turtles who sucks his little head in every time he hears a noise.  That's just not my ideal picture of enlightenment.

But as I thought about it, there on the deck, in my 30 minutes of serenity, I thought that maybe withdrawal of the senses doesn't mean, as it's so often characterized, a shutting down or a turning off.  Maybe the withdrawal of the senses that's being talked about is only a withdrawal from the things that pull too sharply at us.  Maybe pratyahara means withdrawing, not from the sweetness of hummingbirds and bluebells, or the grassy taste of green tea on your tongue--maybe it means withdrawal from all the nonsense that distracts us from being able to actually enjoy those small wonders.

Maybe it means withdrawal from external forces SO THAT the quieter senses might have the opportunity to get a little louder.

Because what we are left with, when we begin to turn away from external forces--from to-do lists and schedules and futurizing--what we are left with is just that which bubbles up from within.  We are left with the simplicity of our lives.  The moment-to-moment goodness of it.  And maybe, if we're lucky (and we have good friends) we are left with a rockin' view, a delicious beverage, and the feeling that we might just be able to handle everything after all...

(fingers crossed)

Vacation Bound...

Oh, Shanti-towners, I know I know.  I've been such a slowed down blogger the last several days.  Blame wedding planning!  Blame the opening of Yogala (which was a HUGE success, by the way)...but now, alas, I'm off to paradise.  It's a tough life, but I'm heading to Hawaii tomorrow morning with my mister and I'll be back at the end of the week.   We're off to celebrate the nuptials of my future sister and brother-in-law.

Until then...lots of love!


-YogaLia

Looking for a Soul --I mean, Wedding Dress

 I am watching "What Not to Wear" and trying to figure out who in my life I could fenagle into nominating me for a make-over, but unfortunately I'm not a moon-boot wearing recovering alcoholic/former party girl or an adult woman who dresses like a 12 year old, so I don't know if I'd really be eligible.  (Though there are days people, there are days...I think if Stacy London were to see me on the street on one of my fuzzy-hair cowboy boots and stretch pants days...she might consider me a viable candidate for the show).

But you know what's sad, it's not even the CLOTHES that I covet, it's the change-your-life via wardrobe makeover, which is so seductive.  And here we have the secret pull of all of these competition reality shows...whether it's losing weight or changing your look or remodeling your house, the unspoken (or hell, sometimes very spoken) agreement is that the contestants will undergo some kind of soul transformation by way of improved body/clothes/living situation.  Which is just...it's the big lie that pervades everything.  Take care of this one sticky spot in your life...fill that one black hole, and VOILA!  Instant and total rebirth.

This, it turns out, is also the secret promise behind BUYING A WEDDING DRESS.

Seriously, people...if you're a married or affianced woman you may know what I'm talking about (so just gimme an AMEN), because when you step into a bridal boutique you very quickly get initiated into the mythology of finding the perfect dress.  It's like some strange tribal reenactment of the search for a mate.  Scan the field for what attracts you, bring some of your favorites into the back room for a "try on", parade them out in front of your female friends (maybe even your mother!), get the assessment from the peanut gallery and then engage in a lot of conversation about how you'll "know it when you see it", and how you have to "wait for the right one"...etc., etc., etc.  Until finally that magic moment arrives when you've found your perfect match!  And everyone cries!  And then you hand over more money than you've ever spent on any single item of clothing ever in your life.

Phew!  (I haven't done that last part yet...)

I've been feeling some frustration about the above lately (not just the dress part...the whole strange world of the wedding industrial complex), but I'm trying to wave my magic yoga wand over the whole situation and realize that part of the whole FANTASY that surrounds being a bride, getting married, making some kind of "perfect" day, is born from the same desire that makes us think a brand new wardrobe and a better haircut can change our lives.  We want transformation. We want transformative acts and events to populate our lives.  And somewhere, deep down, we all think that if we can just get this one thing (or one day) RIGHT, then maybe all the other stuff that clouds our vision will lift.

But the truth is that a new wardrobe soon turns old, hair grows out, houses age, and even a perfect wedding dress eventually gets put away somewhere to gather dust.  And if there's one overarching goal of the yoga practice, it is to wake us up to the reality that the most vital, beautiful, perfectly matched thing you can hope to acquire is your own quiet sleeping soul.  For me, this has been the greatest gift of the practice...that as much as I might WANT to want some outer vehicle for my own satisfaction, I have felt my heart open (sometimes only for a moment) and in the face of that, everything else pales in comparison.

Though $5000 to buy a new wardrobe on TLC's dime...that would be pretty good, too.

A Short Treatise on Commitment...

Yes, that's right, I'm getting married.

I'm not going to go all overly-personal on you here, I promise, I just wanted to share a little episode in my day today which struck me as both sweet and promising, as me and my affiance step into the fire that is (dunh dunh dunh duuuuuuh) Wedding Planning.  (oh my god, if this turns into a wedding planning blog please someone come smack some sense into me.  I will provide my address for said smacking upon request).

So, this afternoon as I'm dutifully crossing things off my list (productive things! important things!) I found myself in my local bookstore.  Originally my intention was to find a yoga book I've been hunting for, but somehooooooooow I found myself crouching down in front of the "Weddings and Babies" section with a handful of books spread out on the floor around me.  Books with titles like "the DIY Bride," "Budget Weddings for Dummies," and, "The Crafty Wedding Handbook".  All of which seemed at once completely unnecessary and absolutely invaluable.  What if I DO want to make my own wedding wrap from satin and little fabric flowers?! Won't I be glad I bought this book then?! 

But, luckily my better sense (and the reasoned voice of my fiance) were playing in my head and I quickly passed on most of them.  MOST of them.  Because there was this one book...a fat tome on wedding venues in Southern California, that seemed pretty irresistible.  Hundreds of pages of venues with prices and maps and phone numbers...all in one handy little volume!  Searching on the internet for places has been driving me batty...so much clicking and so little information...so this book seemed like it might actually be worth the $24.

Okay, I decided, that's it, I'm doing it.

I felt very sassy laying the big W-E-D-D-I-N-G book on the counter and made sure the ol' engagement ring was visible as I did so (just in case the guy behind the register mistook me for just another unengaged girl buying a giant book about wedding venues), only to have my credit card get...um...declined.

Heh, heh.

This didn't freak me out, as I knew I had 4 checks in my wallet that I had forgotten to deposit earlier that day, and wanting it to be very clear that YES I was getting married and NO I wasn't concerned that I have no money in my bank account, I asked the guy to please "hold this for me while I run and go get cash."

At which point, with minutes quickly running out on my metered parking spot, I dashed to the 7-11 up the street where I knew my bank had at ATM that took checks.  I was a little annoyed at this ballooning-with-inconvenience errand, and I even debated just scrapping the purchase all together, but the symbolism of NOT buying a wedding venue book because I was too impatient to deposit some checks just did not sit well with me.  Besides, I've been a little on and off in terms of my venue-hunting diligence and I did not want to succumb to my lazier nature on this point any more, damnit.  So, I waited in line, signed my checks, and deposited them one by one, (as is the way with 7-11 ATMs).

When I finally hustled my way back down to the bookstore, the guy working the counter was switching out his spot for the next guy on duty and he pointed out my book for him.  "That's hers." He said, and as my gaze landed on my book I noticed that on top of it was a hand-scribbled note that read, "Still Shopping."

Still shopping?! Have you not seen this ring on my finger?! I am finished shopping, thank you very much.

The new guy grabbed the book.

"I'm ready now." I said, not realizing in the moment that "I'm ready now," said by a breathless woman buying a wedding book might strike some as...funny.  (I'm hoping for "adorable").

He smiled, swiping the little wand over the scan bar, "big commitment," he joked.

And as I took my book under my arm, I said in return, "Yep.  Just one big commitment at a time...". 

If he only knew what it took to get that book...

Happy Birthday(s)!

I have been a very bad blogger these past few weeks, but I have good reasons, I promise!

1. I was planning a surprise party for my fiance's 40th birthday (don't worry, it's done now...it all went swimmingly) but who knew planning a party required so much...planning.  I'm considering a practice round for wedding planning.  Which, ladies and gentlemen start your engines, begins NOW.

2.  I was simultaneously trying to decide what on earth to do for my 30th birthday (which was yesterday, thank you very much)...because it was my big 30 and ALSO because it happened to fall on 10/10/10.  Which also equals 30.  Which means, I assumed, that on that day I would FINALLY become enlightened.  How does it feel to finally be enlightened?  Feels good, people, feels good.

and 3.  Because I've actually been teaching more and more (hooray) and I'm still learning the fine art of time management...

Anyhoo...the birthday weekend just happened (Paul's on Saturday, mine on Sunday--I know, how nerdy!) and it was a great success.  On Saturday we WALKED ACROSS LOS ANGELES.  No joke.  We walked from Los Feliz to Santa Monica.  And then we just fell into a little heap on the sand.  It was INTENSE.  There will be a future blog all about the crazy journey from total optimism to total physical torture that occurred during those 8 hours, but for now I want to talk about day two...Sunday...my birthday.

We, being totally sore and exhausted, decided that my birthday would be a bit more, um, relaxing, and I had several things I wanted to do, but no plan.  Purposefully, no plan.  At first I thought the plan-less-ness was a hindrance, or that I was somehow failing my own birthday, but as the day arrived I suddenly realized that the "no planning" for my 30th birthday was exactly how I want to enter into this new decade: relaxed, plan-free, spon-tan-eous.

The day began with coffee on the sun-deck of the motel where we stayed, evolved into a daring swim in the ocean (at 8am folks, because I am amazing), and then a hobble (you should see Paul's poor feet!) to the Santa Monica promenade where I bought some of my favorite green tea.  We had planned, then (plans!) to take a cab back home, but at the last minute decided (no plans!) to take a bus instead.  So we hopped on the first bus that we thought would take us near where we wanted to go, or at least to downtown where we could then take another bus...and as the bus pulled up at it's final destination, we saw across the street some kind of festival.

We pondered it and realized it was probably the Olvera Street market, which I'd been wanting to go to for quite some time, so we decided to check it out.  But upon further inspecition we discovered, to my delight, that it was in fact this big mole festival "Feria de los Moles" that I had been reading about and bemoaning not being able to go to (I LOVE mole)...and here we were! Right smack in the middle of it! On my birthday!  We promptly joined in, waiting in a long line in the hot sun for some amazing mole, and marveled at the magic of coincidence.

And as we sat on the sidewalk, eating our plate of black mole, I said to Paul that I was going to take the symbolic significance of our little adventure as confirmation that my 30's was going to be about not planning...and still ending up somewhere great.  Ending up, in fact, exactly where I wanted to go.