This photo is from my archives. I took it in Montreal in the Old City at night. This is the back entrance of one of the restaurants. I always loved how subtly candid this is: half a man lit by a fluorescent lights, contrasted with the glow of the streetlights outside.
As I took the photo, I felt like I was peeking into a secret world.
During my time in Montreal I felt like an entirely different person, as if I had shed my skin and emerged, liked a butterfly, into a different life. Practising in the shala there, I felt completely anonymous. It was a bit being placed into the Astanga version of a 'witness protection programme'. Even my practice was different - I started second series in Montreal. I could feel my body changing at a cellular level, buzzing.
And then I came home.
Today, I'm wishing I could escape my life again. Just very briefly, just to get a breather from being me and being here and being now. I wish I could be anonymous again, instead of feeling like the object of backstabbing and gossip. I wish I felt more at home in my practice and less like a transient, itinerant ashtangi. I wish my damned shoulder would stop aching.
I wish I wasn't so afraid.
Princess Fur has cancer.
There. I said it. It took me a couple hundred words and two dozen deep breaths just to write that sentence. I'm beyond heartbroken. I'm turning the comments off on this post because I can't bear sympathy. I know you're all sorry. Thanks.
She's scheduled for surgery on the 27th. I'll know more after the biopsy, but I don't plan to put my dog through a tortured treatment plan. She's nearly 10, she's given me enough. The best I can give her now is the best possible quality of life and a dignified end, whenever it comes.
I just really wish this stupid year would stop kicking me in the teeth.
(This post is part of the June photo project)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
