EMC Editorial - Have you ever felt the need to just get away from it all and recharge for a few days? As one who is infamous for overflowing emotions and overreactions, you could say that I've been due for an exercise in stillness for a while now.
A friend and I had been dreaming about going to the Shanti Yoga Retreat on Wolfe Island since it opened last year. When I realized I had a rare free summer weekend in my schedule that coincided with a retreat date, I jumped at the chance to fill it with 48 hours of serenity.
Despite feeling a little intimidated when my friend ended up not being able to make it, I decided to suck it up and go stag. Happily, I wasn't the only one to go it alone, and my fellow retreat-takers were all incredibly friendly and kind.
Plus, worrying about petty social protocol kind of went against the entire idea behind the retreat, which provided a break from the everyday. For me, this meant no work, no husband, no pets to feed and walk, no food to prepare or order, no house to clean, no schedule to plan. I also loved how the entire weekend centred around yoga - one of my favourite activities in the world.
I've been practicing yoga for years, although lately not as much as I should. I gave up my infinity membership at Samatva when we briefly moved to Toronto last year, and wasn't able to renew it upon our return due to time and budgeting restrictions. These days, a visit to a studio is a treat. Otherwise, I get my yoga fix at home through DVDs, which is not the same thing at all.
The retreat weekend included, among other things, four two-hour yoga classes and delicious, homemade food, and was thus exactly what I was looking for. The fact that the location was absolutely beautiful, and that everything was experienced through the rose-coloured glasses of a perpetual yoga high only added to the weekend's blissful, relaxed mood. There's something about stretching, twisting and moving around on a mat while surrounded by willow trees, docks and calm water that leaves you feeling impervious to any sort of mental turmoil.
To be honest, part the schedule was a teeny bit heavy on two things I've personally never been a big fan of: silent meditation and breathing exercises. The latter took up the first half hour of each yoga class, which for me essentially meant 30 minutes of sitting cross-legged on the mat. I've tried to do similar exercises in the past, but for some reason holding or altering my breath for any extended length of time always prompts a near panic attack, and I prefer to abstain.
As for the silent meditation - well, last weekend made me realize once and for all that I am simply not cut out for it. The overarching idea is that it's okay to have thoughts, but you're somehow supposed to separate "yourself" from them, and mentally visualize the thoughts drifting in and out of your perfectly clear mind. As a relatively thought-oriented person, I find it much easier to meditate when I have something else to focus on, like a book or music or some sort of physical activity. The last place I'm going to be able to separate myself from my thoughts is a silent room, where they scream at me like a petulant child.
And you know what? I'm perfectly fine with that. I'm confident that I experienced just as much release as anyone else there when I skipped the final meditation session Saturday evening to hang out with a book on the dock overlooking the tranquil Brown's Bay.
Either way, I'd highly recommend Shanti to anyone who enjoys yoga and needs to take a little break from the world, meditation ability not required for a perfectly fulfilling and renewing experience.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
It's Better on the Edge
EMC Editorial - Last week, I watched mesmerized as the co-hosts of Canada AM carefully negotiated the roof of the CN Tower's restaurant. Restrained by cords attached to complicated-looking red body suits at one end and the structure of the tower at the other, they proceeded to lean forwards and backwards over the edge, sans any sort of guardrail.
It's all part of a new attraction called EdgeWalk. For $175, you too can ascend the former world's tallest free-standing structure and feel what it's like to dangle 116 storeys in the air, nothing but sky between your body and the concrete jungle below.
"That looks fun," I said to my husband, Steve. "Let's give that a try."
I was met with a look of annoyed disbelief. To be honest, I kind of shocked myself too.
Ten years ago, I was afraid to go on the upside down roller coasters at Canada's Wonderland. It all stemmed from two traumatizing childhood experiences: one where I almost fell to my death from a zipper ride at the Calgary Stampede, and another where I was pressured against my will to ride the Jet Scream at Wonderland shortly thereafter - it's the one shaped like a rocket that sits upside down for five excruciatingly long seconds.
For years, I shied away from anything more extreme than the Ghoster Coaster. Then I visited Wonderland with Steve and his crazy friends, and experienced the park from a whole new perspective. Once again, I was pressured against my will to board the Jet Scream - and The Bat, and Top Gun (or whatever it is they're calling it now) - only to find that perhaps they aren't so scary after all.
Since then, I've turned into a somewhat unlikely adrenaline junkie. Wonderland, I must admit, has become a bit of a guilty pleasure. We went last summer only to realize that all other park visitors our age were there with small children, however, that didn't stop us from riding the new Behemoth coaster multiple times and loving every minute of it. To experience a 75-degree drop at 125 km/h with nothing but a small, inadequate-looking plastic rail to hold you in is pure exhilaration. It's the sort of thing that, if only for a minute, makes you feel impervious to anything else life can throw at you.
All the same, I often feel nostalgic for the time when my biggest fear constituted anticipating three minutes of terror at an amusement park.
These days, my greatest fears in life have to do with disease and financial ruin. Compared to these daunting thoughts, a quick and painless death by being flung from a malfunctioning roller coaster seems like a walk in the park.
Steve and I came to terms with exactly how much debt we had accumulated during our early 20s around the time the American economy tanked in 2008 - basically as a result everyone's debt spiralling out-of-control. Terrified, we set ourselves up with a plan to dig our way out, which we usually follow. All the same, our progress does little to eliminate the nagging - if unrealistic -fear of being financially dependent on family members with nothing to show for ourselves 10 years down the road.
As for disease - well, the mere thought of all the pesticides and hormones found in most foods these days is enough to make me nauseous. I imagine all those chemicals coursing through my blood, accumulating over time to cause cancer and god knows what else.
I'm not sure these fears fall into the same category as that of amusement park rides, but I am of the FDR school of thought in that I believe their root is one and the same: fear itself.
At the bottom of my quest for adrenaline, I think there is a wish to scare myself so much that I eliminate these other fears. Wonderland's scariest roller coasters can't quite get me there, but maybe the EdgeWalk will. Or perhaps even skydiving someday.
It's all part of a new attraction called EdgeWalk. For $175, you too can ascend the former world's tallest free-standing structure and feel what it's like to dangle 116 storeys in the air, nothing but sky between your body and the concrete jungle below.
"That looks fun," I said to my husband, Steve. "Let's give that a try."
I was met with a look of annoyed disbelief. To be honest, I kind of shocked myself too.
Ten years ago, I was afraid to go on the upside down roller coasters at Canada's Wonderland. It all stemmed from two traumatizing childhood experiences: one where I almost fell to my death from a zipper ride at the Calgary Stampede, and another where I was pressured against my will to ride the Jet Scream at Wonderland shortly thereafter - it's the one shaped like a rocket that sits upside down for five excruciatingly long seconds.
For years, I shied away from anything more extreme than the Ghoster Coaster. Then I visited Wonderland with Steve and his crazy friends, and experienced the park from a whole new perspective. Once again, I was pressured against my will to board the Jet Scream - and The Bat, and Top Gun (or whatever it is they're calling it now) - only to find that perhaps they aren't so scary after all.
Since then, I've turned into a somewhat unlikely adrenaline junkie. Wonderland, I must admit, has become a bit of a guilty pleasure. We went last summer only to realize that all other park visitors our age were there with small children, however, that didn't stop us from riding the new Behemoth coaster multiple times and loving every minute of it. To experience a 75-degree drop at 125 km/h with nothing but a small, inadequate-looking plastic rail to hold you in is pure exhilaration. It's the sort of thing that, if only for a minute, makes you feel impervious to anything else life can throw at you.
All the same, I often feel nostalgic for the time when my biggest fear constituted anticipating three minutes of terror at an amusement park.
These days, my greatest fears in life have to do with disease and financial ruin. Compared to these daunting thoughts, a quick and painless death by being flung from a malfunctioning roller coaster seems like a walk in the park.
Steve and I came to terms with exactly how much debt we had accumulated during our early 20s around the time the American economy tanked in 2008 - basically as a result everyone's debt spiralling out-of-control. Terrified, we set ourselves up with a plan to dig our way out, which we usually follow. All the same, our progress does little to eliminate the nagging - if unrealistic -fear of being financially dependent on family members with nothing to show for ourselves 10 years down the road.
As for disease - well, the mere thought of all the pesticides and hormones found in most foods these days is enough to make me nauseous. I imagine all those chemicals coursing through my blood, accumulating over time to cause cancer and god knows what else.
I'm not sure these fears fall into the same category as that of amusement park rides, but I am of the FDR school of thought in that I believe their root is one and the same: fear itself.
At the bottom of my quest for adrenaline, I think there is a wish to scare myself so much that I eliminate these other fears. Wonderland's scariest roller coasters can't quite get me there, but maybe the EdgeWalk will. Or perhaps even skydiving someday.
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