Inspiration! Exaltation!

                                    
The intrusive alarm puts an end to my half conscious dream state. My eyes dusty, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the curtained window and it is another day. I begin my ritual of making the bed and sweeping the floor, creating a clean and balanced space conducive to a comfortable asana practice. Showered clean and with teeth brushed I will step into my space and shut the door, perhaps spending a few minutes on the computer checking to see who said what on Facebook and whether there are any newsworthy items to fret about that day. This is usually just a stalling technique because I am still not awake and the thought of exercising for 2 hours seems ridiculous, however necessary it may be. Eventually I will close out the external world and roll out my mat, breath deepening and becoming more focused, eyes softening around the edges and becoming less sculpted by thought. Despite the minds protests the preparation and willingness to practice is there and it is good. The first and hardest step is to show up, but I am here fully. I would have nothing less.  This is what I do each morning.
I take this bed stiffened body through a series of warming and opening stretches, still partly present with the ego mind that doesn't want to be here. I honor with acknowledgment and remain where I am because I know in 20-minutes time I will have changed my mind completely. But for now thoughts of that first coffee of the day or a conversation had the night before tug at my presence and it's almost funny because in this space and in this present moment there is nothing less important than what my first girlfriend is doing with her life right now, but such is the nature of the carnival-like mind. 
And soon thoughts give way to feeling, opening, deepening and lengthening. The breath which only an hour ago was a bit shallow and filling only about half of my lung capacity is now becoming boundless and full of energy, I can feel it in my eyes which are opening from the inside and seemingly radiating a soft light. Those gentle bodily motions give way to stronger and more realized movements and now it is 20-minutes in and I have changed my mind completely. Sweat begins to bubble to the surface and the alchemy of yoga is taking place. This is why i do this stuff. This is how i spend each morning.
For an hour and some to a couple of hours i expand in awareness, strength and capacity of the body/mind. Some days are a flawless flow and other days are choppy waters full of debris and oil slick and still other days are fierce, hot and sweaty and i wonder just what in the hell i think I'm doing but the beauty and life I am experiencing keeps me here. It is a dance and it is how i want to spend each morning.
Over the years my yoga practice has shifted every which way. It has been weak and in short sessions and it has been explosive in its strength and length. I have felt inspired and opened for weeks on end and have spent months just spinning my wheels, going through the motions and alienating myself from the deeper practice and study of this lifestyle because in our western society this practice has almost become less of a necessity and more of a scene to be seen in. Something with which to puff up our already inflated ego and to identify ourselves with. I struggle with seeing something so beautiful and honest being mired in product placement and the desperate need to look hip with our eco-friendly vegan yoga mat and 'Om Namah Shivaya' tattoo across our low back. This is not why i show up every morning and wake up with opening movement. This is not why i sweat and shake and bake and curse myself for holding a challenging posture for 10 breaths. I do this because it is feeling. I do this because it is the right thing for me to do. I do this because it helps to create a state of play, lightness and acceptance. I do this because it makes me feel amazing, even if halfway through the day something sets me off, it is now that much easier to anchor myself back to this present moment and to let go completely.
No amount of incense or overpriced trinket can replace doing the work. You want a desired result, you show up and you do the work. You keep doing the work and you don't stop even when your lying mind is telling you that you've got it figured out, and in fact that is a sure sign that you've got a lot more work ahead of you because really, with all of our conflicting theories and ideas and 'get spiritual fast' plans, who in their right mind actually has anything figured out? I know I never will nor want to. I'd much rather revel in the question and to just enjoy the ride. 

May you all have something that brings you back and opens your heart right up, be it yoga or dance or meditation or playing in a band or chanting Hare Krishna for hours on end. Your bliss is beautiful and always welcomed on this earthy crust we walk on. 
Do yourself the biggest favor and keep showing up. That's all you need.
Thank you I love you!
N

Wanna see my scars?

You think you're big, strong and all but immortal until injury shows you differently. 
I am happy to report that I have lived these 36 years mostly free of debilitating injury, managing to keep my body strong and limber through years of yoga practice and a generally healthy mindset. My bounce back is pretty good and I don't tend to wallow in misery when something is amiss, in fact I will usually work through whatever ills I may experience in my day to day life. 
Though every once in a great while something will give way and I'll be forced to sit out a few innings, stewing over my lack of mobility and Wolverine-like healing abilities. 
Monday of last week started off innocently enough. I woke up, made yoga and left the house to spend a bit of time with my lady. A bike had fallen in the hallway as I was exiting the house and to avoid tripping up I stepped over and twisted my body in a seemingly normal position. One would think after an hour and fifteen minutes of yoga that I'd be limber and loose and able to traverse the span of a bike, but not this time. The universe decided differently as she generally tends to do when we're not expecting it. I didn't think much of the low level throb in the small of my back until I stepped down the slope at the end of my driveway and felt like I'd taken a knife in the spine. My whole being seized and I couldn't move for a solid fifteen seconds. "Oh fuck, this is bad. This is really bad." I said to myself as I tried to step one foot in front of the other finding some small relief in the fact that the searing pain gave way to slightly less searing pain and discomfort. I naively thought that over the next hour the pain would ease and I'd be good as gold but apparently my immortality is as based in reality as a skeleton bonded with adamantium. I'm no Wolverine. I'm no Superman. I'm a man who's getting older and as much as I hate it, I have to face the facts. 
There have been only a couple of times in my life when I couldn't take off my own pants before bed. As an infant i didn't have that life skill stored away and happily relied on my caregivers to do it for me. The last time was a couple of years back when I had my hernia surgery and basically was living with a stitched up abdomen and after the first day or so it wasn't all that bad. Tender but bearable. Well now I can chalk up a third round of inability to disrobe because on the night of said back injury, try as I may, I could not get those damned pants off with ease. I swear to God it took me at least five minutes a leg and then another minute to kick them off and by the time they finally exited my body I was so exhausted from the strain that all I could do was lay there moaning and feel sorry for myself. This was bad. This was really bad. There was little sleep that night as any movement sent shudders of incredible white hot pain through my mid-section and to my head so mostly I just lay there wondering, why me? 
I have heard that when you break your hip it feels as though you are falling apart down the middle. This wasn't as extreme as all of that but it was a reasonable facsimile for sure. Truth be told it fucking sucked.
Little by little over the following few days my back began to realign itself. Sleep became easier and walking became less of a constant reminder of my failing body on that fateful day. With the help of mindful awareness and the imbibing of a couple particularly strong weed filled brownies I began to regain my strength and confidence in the body's ability to move freely. 
And still a week later I feel a tightness and heavy strain in this ever so delicate part of my frame. I sit and sleep with a certain comfort but over time it seizes up and getting to my feet can be a bit of a working groaning process if I'm not paying attention and even when I am. I am confident that I won't be joining any heavy contact sporting teams any time soon, which is fine because I'm not really in to that. But I am in to freedom of movement and not having to be ultra-careful all of the time. 
And this is where the learning comes in.
I half-jokingly say that I'm getting older and all that, and as much as that may be true i also believe that you are as young and limber as you choose to be. This isn't to say that our bodies don't crap out a bit after sixty years or that you should be able to bounce back after a bad accident. Shit happens and i guess I have been spoiled with very little happening to me. But with what has, I am glad that i don't spend much time playing the victim because most of us know that is a waste of life. I know that shit happens for a reason, however subtle and hard to pinpoint and I know that this fun little adventure in handicapped land has been good for me. It has caused me to slow down and to be more aware. It has given me the opportunity to dive into a deeper and different form of yoga practice. It has given me reason to appreciate what i have a lot more. 
To think that i have "suffered" is delving into some fairly selfish and ignorant thinking. There are able bodied 25 year old's who have lost the ability to walk or hold their children. There are good hearted folks out there who are living with sickness that I wouldn't even want to imagine having for a minute. My week long little strained back issue is nothing because I still walk, talk, feel and fuck. I still work and I still write. I still love and I still enjoy life. For a brief moment in time i was "crippled" and it was disconcerting but here I am now writing about it with a sense of humor and in the spirit of letting go. I'm good and I will get better. I will carry on. 
And holy crap do I ever appreciate that fact.
Take care of yourselves friends, appreciate what you have and what you can do with it because in a second, with one unaware movement it can be taken from you. Try not to end up like this guy, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WM8bTdBs-cw,  even if but for a week. 
Be well and healthy. Thank you I love you.
N

Weekly fun time random album reviews

OK, so as mentioned in my last post i was hungry for some topics to write about. I got a couple of suggestions and i will most definitely honor them over the next while but what I'm toying with right now is the idea of choosing an album at random whether new or old, listening to it and then offering up my impressions of it. I'd like to try this maybe once a week and probably will not limit myself to just albums. There are so many movies out there that I've not watched so maybe I'll try to offer some words on random movies once a week as well, time permitting. But let's hop along to my first order of business, the random iTunes album pick of the week. As i write this i have no idea what it's going to be. I'm leaving that up to the shuffle album function this time, but please feel free to suggest an album or movie you'd like for me to talk about. Like i said, i hope for this to be a weekly thing which means many more postings from me along with the usual fare.

Alright then. And this weeks winner is...........

Pink Mountaintops - Outside Love

Well, i thought this was going to be an easy one. Luckily this is an album i have an immediate recognition of. Having often listened to Vancouver's Pink Mountaintops three albums including this 2009 release i have my opinions, likes, distastes and otherwise. Putting it into words is another thing altogether as i feel that Outside Love though very good in its own right, is not a whole lot different than anything else the band has done. And don't get me wrong, what the band does is competent and definitely worth the listen if you're interested in shoe-gazey hazy stoner rock. But like with any good joint and a handful of sedatives i am rendered a bit speechless when it comes to whipping up a paragraph or two about this album. If anything Outside Love makes me feel kind of puddle-like, similar to that feeling about a half an hour after taking a couple grams of mushrooms, just before you peak and want to climb trees or fly, when you feel like your limbs are sliding off as if the joints connecting them to your body were made of melting butter and words though amazing in your head, end up releasing from your mouth in some kind of crazy alien dialect. This is music for the stoned, the laze-a-bouts and the melted. To some it may be fuck music and to others it may be music to rear your kids to, but for me i can only take so much of Stephen McBeans blue fog stew music for so long until i need a pick me up. 
That being said there is absolutely an awesomeness to Pink Mountaintops music that keeps me interested enough to keep collecting. I am a sucker for big fat sloppy riffs and wet just offish drums that play a part in creating something that sounds as though it could fall apart at any second but is held together by good playing and songwriting abilities. What i mean is that there is kind of an open feeling to these tunes as if some of them were recorded in an empty warehouse in one take. It's freeing music that doesn't feel overly rehearsed or pretentious. Vocals echo beautifully, hitting you with two or three times the power and filling you in a way that some vocals cannot. Drums resonate and wake you while guitar fuzz lulls you to laziness and the songs as a whole sometimes sounds very west coast sea and mountain chill on the large scale. Lyrics aren't a total downer and even offer some positivity such as in 'Holiday' where McBean laments that "everyone he loves deserves a holiday in the sun, almost everyday, until lions are off of their backs." Though this is a far cry from co-vocalist Amber(Amy?!??!?) Webber declaring on 'While You Were Dreaming', that "if I could find your heart I'd pull it from your chest and smash you with my fists until it was beating." Wide open, bleak and kind of beautiful, which for me sums up the Pink Mountaintops experience. The music is big and at times bordering on epic of sound. The musicianship is "not trying" excellent and the songs are memorable for the most part. Outside Love may have been a cut above the last two albums in some music critics minds but for me it was simply a continuation of a cleaner and wiser pre-existing sound. When it comes down to personal choice I'd much rather listen to their self titled album or Axis Of Evol any other lazy day of the week. Outside love is a pretty good album, but not their best.  
Winning track: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZmejIUm9XmA
K, I'm out. Thank you i love you!
~N

A necessary rambling random short post

The time seems to fly by at a breakneck pace. Those things i looked so forward to for weeks on end are said and done and replaced with other new and exciting things to look forward to. The money in my pocket has dwindled and i eagerly await the next pay-day so i can take another round of care free living and fun. Oh wait, i do that anyway despite however many moths flutter from my wallet holding crisp dollar bills in their mothy beaks. It's easier to have fun and enjoy life when surrounded by free of heart people with good ideas. It's even easier to have fun and enjoy life when the weather begins to turn to a noticeably warmer temperature. Today it was quite apparent that Spring is barreling down the road toward us and frankly, i couldn't be happier about it. As much as i enjoy the hibernation of Winter and the endless rain she brings, it is the warmth of Spring and Summer where i truly come to life. Last year was spent largely indoors working and i don't plan on repeating that mess this year. I have a deep set group of friends, an amazing girlfriend and a serious penchant for the solar stuff and i will not let that slip by while i make coffee for the addicted whilst listening to their stories of how beautiful it is outside. Shit, maybe i should quit that scene and get a job at a hot dog cart. I'll hire Charlie Sheen and a bundle of bikini sluts and we'll do mountains of blow while getting the perfect tan. Then I'll write about it.
Speaking of which, i really would like to be posting here a lot more. Like every few days as opposed to every coupla weeks. I just don't know where to go with this sometimes. I've posted such poignant and personal stuff i feel like i owe it to myself and those few interested readers something other than a few lines and a fart joke. Perhaps i ought to be just writing about anything that tickles my fancy, such as an old movie i saw or the many shows i hope to get to in the next few months. I didn't want to turn this into a "review blog" but come on, there is only so much of myself i can give before it just gets boring and redundant. I guess I'm looking for a niche that isn't all music or of the personal nature. Recipes? Poetry? 
Here's an idea, you people send me ideas such as movie suggestions, books, restaurants/cafes, events and yes, even albums new or ancient and I'll spin a few words about them. It's not that I'm starved for content but I'd like to make this a bit more of a dialogue effort between myself and the people that read these words. Call it an experiment. If you read the shit that i have to say and you are remotely interested in what i might have to say about something you might be stoked on then please offer away in the comments below, especially you random strangers who stumble upon this blog and are reading this right now. Feed me your ideas because I'm hungry. Hungry like a tiger. Hungry like the wolf. Hungry like Billy Corgan back in 1993. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pcNP9JE0bs
Okay chickens, as always i am humbled by your readership as i am humbled by your life. Keep on being and for gosh sake don't talk to strangers, don't even look them in the eye! Thank you i love you!
N

You say you're happy, but does your face know that?

                            
Thursdays generally tend to be my favorite day of the week. This is when i get to wake up a little later and head on down to the Georgia Straight office where i pick up a few bundles of their paper and deliver it to and around Granville Island. This takes about two and a half hours and then my day is freed up for whatever i choose to bring into it. On top of that i get to spend my "shift" outside which, weather permitting, can be lovely. It's a great way to spend my day and a nice jump from the routine of pulling shots at the shop four days of the week. I get paid well and in the last year that i have been doing this some very special people have come into my life. Seeing some of these smiling faces makes the job that much better and though i may not be forming lifelong friendships with these folks, those brief moments of appreciative recognition and stimulating conversation are enough to make my day. Whether it is the joy received from having something to read in a brief reprieve from the monotony of these peoples jobs or the possibility that someone "saw" them and put an ad in the I Saw Yous or even the familiar shiny face that comes around every Thursday to hand deliver their favorite publication, i seem to be in a role of bringing a certain happiness to peoples lives and i really enjoy it. I look forward to seeing Steve the bike fixer guy and recounting our week in whirlwind bullshit sessions. I look forward to seeing my favorite dog pal Buddha at my friend Sharpies gem store. I look forward to the shouts of Georgia Straight joy from the kids at the Hammock shop on the island. I look forward to spending a few minutes holding space with Loni at the art studio. I look forward to the myriad sweets in bowls on desks at the many offices i deliver to. I look forward to stepping into the incredibly high end wood-furniture store and dreaming about the day when I'll afford a $9,000 bed. I look forward to seeing all the pretty people, the B-line commuters or Granville artisans alike. Yes, these Thursday short shifts are usually very life affirming and i often think of how when i was 13 or so i delivered the Mission Times newspaper 2 times a week. We'd fill the back of my moms Volvo station wagon with hundreds of papers and I'd spend what seemed an eternity delivering to homes. It was thankless work that paid me $30 a month which at that age seemed a lot. Now I'm well into my adulthood and here i am delivering newspapers for fun and making really decent money to boot. 
 So what's with the title of this post? If I'm all shits and giggles, why the dripping sarcasm? Well, with all good and interesting things there comes a browner side that merits attention. As much as I'd like to only observe and revel in the happy parts of my favorite day, i can't help but notice things that make me a little sad. It's not much really, but it's enough for me to stop and give my head a shake. See, i have worked in the service industry for a long time now and i see a lot of people. When you're behind the counter or approaching a table there is usually an unspoken barrier between people and their state of mind. We can all be shitty to each other and i have had my fair share of bad interactions with clientele but whether you're serving or buying we all tend to fake it a little bit, despite our foulness. Out in public when the filters are down there is little to hide the pain in so many peoples faces or the shutting out of the real world through texting madly and shitty cell phone conversations. I wonder if some of these folks could see just how deep their grimace was, if they'd take evasive action to change it around. Yeah, sure, we all have bad days and we all go through rough and horrible spells, but i feel like i can tell the difference between heart pain and an unwillingness to engage with society by looking like a gargoyle on day 1 of the worst PMS ever. And these people aren't just sprinkled lightly in this city, they're EVERYWHERE! And they scare me. I saw a woman today in her massive white Escalade frothing and spitting and furrowing her brow because an old woman was crossing the road....at a crosswalk. She honked for a solid 5 seconds while beating her hand on the steering wheel, eventually veering out into oncoming traffic almost hitting the old crosser and killing herself in the process? And for what? So she could get home to her shitty lonely lapdog life and online episodes of Glee? A hair appointment? Yogalates? I saw another young woman with a frown a mile wide get huffy and frustrated because someone dropped something in front of her while she was walking. She literally stomped her foot and exhaled audibly because SHE had to step around something, a whole half a second of her life, gone. Poor girl. Have a cookie, bitch. 
Then there are the few folks who have made up their own story about the guy who comes to deliver the Georgia Straight to their store every week. It's rare and after a year 95% of them have realized that there is far more substance there than the half retarded simp some of them decided to paint me as. But every once in a while i get some high falootin' richie-rich pull out their chalk board and spell out specific instructions as to where they'd like me to leave the paper and to not make eye contact if they happen to be dealing with a client. Well, it's not that extreme, but you know what i mean. Some people are self important jerks. But i shant let that get me down. These are simply observances that i can choose to let affect me. It's just kind of tough to see on such a beautiful day, surrounded by good food and awesome scenery. It just makes me wonder how some think it's better to have their head so far up their own ass when there is so much potential for joy all around them. Somehow i don't feel that a dark damp shitty hole is actually a better place, but then again it's been so long since I've been in a place where i was unaware of the choice. Bad moods happen, but for the love of shit, pick up your frown that's trailing 2-feet behind you before someone trips on it and gets wrapped up. Go look at the sea or a mountain or something. Have a cookie, bitch. 
Here's to laughs and better head spaces. Thank you i LOVE you!
N

Showered in sound vibration

I thought I'd share some impressions with you about a concert i went to the other night. This wasn't meant to be a published piece or anything but i did feel this gig was affecting enough for me to want to spin some words. Here's what came out.                                                                                                 

Godspeed You! Black Emperor live @ the Vogue Wednesday Feb. 16th 2011

Okay, so this freehand concert reflection might take a bit of time to write because the spectacle I witnessed last night deserves the space to come to fruition in my head and heart. Godspeed You! Black Emperor was certainly not the “best” concert I have ever attended, but it was definitely one of the more interesting and intense shows I’ve been to. I’ll admit I knew I was getting myself into something special when I signed on for this, co-worker Fraser announcing one day almost half a year ago that he had bought a couple of tickets for this super-rare show by the Montreal post-spacefury rock outfit who never really tour all that much and haven’t released any new material in nearly ten years. I took the spare ticket all the while thinking how odd it was that I was committing to a band more than six months ahead of time and the band was one that I knew and admired but had never given much thought to seeing live before now. I know a good chunk of this bands music and I had an inkling of what they would throw forth in the live setting but there was really no reason for me to commit to music I felt only a passing connection to. For the most part some of this artsy drone-noise-crescendo-peak-chill-build-again music gets my dander up after a while and it’s totally not something I could sit and listen to for long periods of time while in my private moments. I appreciate it and I feel the power of monster riffs held for 20 minutes while drums go crazy, but like Latin and physiological studies, as beautiful as they might be, I feel no draw towards them and would rather leave them to be studied and dissected by the more eager. But something about the idea of this Godspeed You! Black Emperor show got me hopped up and I had a feeling it would knock my head around for a bit.Well friends, I was not wrong. 

 The evening began watching some young fellow who calls himself Total Life hunched over a bank of mixers and things making loud atonal noises that peaked and let loose and then turned into a somewhat passable form of dance music. It was interesting to walk into but after a half an hour I was ready for something more. There was meant to be a band onstage called Errors but apparently they never happened and so it was just electronics/mixers guy and Godspeed. So be it. Next it was time to pee and all the while I was gone I could hear this low tonal hum, like a bass guitar left near an amp but not in an annoying way. I felt soothed by the hum as I made small talk with the guy in the line about how it was the first time we’d ever been in a lineup for the guys can at an indoor gig. We were wieners at a sausage fest and we laughed and made nervous caveman-like dude gestures about this art music gig with a high volume of black shirt and beard wearing tough gutter punk anarchy steam-rave oddball folks. It was all kind of weird and exciting and surreal, us gathered under this roof to share in this unique live experience. The tension in the air was rich and I was honored to be a part of it. After about 20 minutes of the low tone hum that stoked the excitement in the air, Godspeed sauntered out and took their spots, building on the bass hum instrument by instrument, layer by layer. We staked our viewing location behind the sound booth, which proved to be the perfect place to get a full on experience. Downwind from the projectionist and directly behind the impressively busy girl doing sound we watched a band play selfishly amongst themselves while forever bathed in a light salmon hue cast on blue. No words were spoken and no acknowledgment was given to the crowd. This show was not about “hits” or favorite tracks or the perfect set list. This was about art in motion in unison with others, and in my opinion they pulled it off perfectly. Songs? You want songs? No, these aren’t really songs as much as they are movements of sound that build and become furious and intricate. The songs have names and I recognized a couple, but names of songs are hardly important when the draw is more about the music and movements. This is stormy music that hits like white light and can take you on a range of feelings from elation to exhaustion and back again. In the live setting these ‘songs’ happen while images are cast behind the band. Dreary black, white and faint off piss-yellow images of crows flying, sad cities, fields of grass blowing in the breeze, emergency lights and old fashioned cranes picking up scrap and throwing it onto bigger piles of scrap. Is this happy music and picture times? Hardly. Is it sad? No, not really. It is music that paints a bleak picture of hope. Hope that starts off as innocent and then flickers off into sketchy, eventually becoming a mix of tension, love, fury, ecstasy, fear, aggression and unrest. Songs grow wings of gossamer and take flight and just when you think the going is good the wings turn to scribbled on cardboard and barbed wire held together with airplane glue and pubic hair. It was odd and beautiful to watch happen and neither the crowd, projectionist, band nor sound tech would have been able to pull it off without the other. We were all a part of this magitragicomedy in movements whether we knew it or not. Each feeding the other and the other eating itself to feed the other, a perfect circle of fury and noise, pictures rendered and minds torn open, holes burned in film and explosions of images riding atop crests of sound waves. These massive intakes and outpourings of guitars, bass, violins, drums and samples of dialogue filled the walls of the Vogue and for stretches of time I was convinced that this was the beginning and end of all music, the white light at the end of the tunnel. A light that beckoned, so I followed and for an evening I was saved.

~Nathan Pike

I need another bit because i chomped through the last one

 All day I've been hopped up in anticipation of getting creative, having to spend the better part of the day cooped up in the shop slinging lattes and making friendly. Sure it was fine and i made some scratch in the process but i needed to tap into this flow and to feel more alive doing it. Ever since last week when the gears started turning and the call for some serious life change rattled my heart and mind i have been flashing heavy on the routes i can take in order to move closer to my goals. Though goals might be a loose term for me right now as I'm not too sure what they all look like yet and i prefer a softer word such as 'intention'. Things are changing rapidly and what i thought i wanted 5 years ago is so different from what I am wanting now, and in fact 5 years ago I'm not even that sure i had any clear goals intact, so content have I been spinning the wheels in my own mucky muck that goals seemed like a distraction or something to "get to eventually". But then a growing creativity happened and things started moving more as a few people close to me offered some food for thought and reminded me of just how important it is to keep the brain active and heart excited. I'm now feeling hooked on creating the life i desire and it's exciting, new, exhilarating and a little bit scary. My growing distaste for accepting anything other than that which is juicy and vital is beginning to ripple outward, growing into a tsunami of lasting change. I don't know what it is going to look like in a few years from now but i do know that eking out a living 5 days a week in some soulless environment that leaves me feeling tired, frustrated and broke would be nothing more than utter defeat. This is not the plan God has for me and it is becoming more apparent by the day that I have a gift that must be exercised on the regular and i will do everything in my power to feed that call.
 But this can't all be about career change and finding financial freedom. There is balance to be had and i am fortunate enough to have folks in my life who will remind me of this at the drop of a hat. I am aware of the dangers of taking too much on, even when it's something that comes from the heart. You can burn out on it, and eventually like those crappy jobs we tend to enslave ourselves to, resentment grows and festers into infection. I did it with yoga instruction and I've done it in my relationships. It sucks and feels like slow death. Thankfully I have always managed to find myself surrounded by reminders that balance is key, whether it be quiet lessons learned in my asana practice or those vivacious friends who seem to have 20 amazing things on the go while still maintaining the ability to just chill and drink a beer on the front porch or watch a ridiculous movie without regard for the time. This is the place I'd like to be closer to. Full but not busy and allowing myself to be supported and rested when need be. There may be no time to waste but this is still not a race to get to the finish line, if there even is one.
 So I've been playing with a few ideas about how to better enrich my life while feeding this forward moving momentum. Can I share them with you? Yeah?? Thanks!
 * I have set an intention for myself to attend at least 1 music gig a week. This Winter i feel like I lost touch with what's happening in Vancouver's local music scene and I'd like nothing more than to support some of these hard working folks making music. I've leaned too heavily on the excuse that there are simply too many bands out there which is just fucking ridiculous. If the water is deep and warm then why not swim and submerge myself in it?? Oh, and if you know me personally and we tend to hang out from time to time then please don't hesitate to come along with me or suggest gigs we can go to. The company would be rad.
* I want to write like crazy. Here, Discorder, other magazines, in birthday cards. I don't care, i just want to write and get better as i go. I'd also like to expand my horizons by trying out other forms of writing such as fiction, movie reviews etc. And yes, if i happen to get a gig writing for some big publication where I'm not selling my soul then hell fucking yeah I'm going to "sell out". But don't think of it as selling out, think of it as me buying in, ok? Don't hate, jerk.
* Spending far less time on this trusty old computer playing garbage in garbage out. I am astounded at how quickly my life rolls by when I'm spending hours surfing for nothing. Sure, i have my regular hits that I might feel slightly uncomfortable without, but do i really need to spend that hour between yoga practice and work watching classic wrestling clips on the youtubes? I think not.
* Much more reading. Man, i really LOVE to read and always have. Apparently when i was a little guy i used to read the labels of soup cans. I've graduated to bigger periodicals by this point in life but i have noticed since my acquisition of a computer and internet that my reading time has gone down significantly. This upsets me a bit and though i seem to always have at least 3 books on the go it is taking me far longer to read them these days. So along with just taking the time to read every night when i can i have decided to join my lady in her book club starting next month. For those unaware, you meet at the end of each month and have a book assigned through consensus of the group. Then you read the shit out of it and at the next meeting you discuss what you read. So not only are you stimulating your bean through reading exciting new literature, you get to hang out with book nerds and talk about the stuff you read and the impact it had. I'm down and I'm doing it.
* Creating more elegant meals. Dude, my diet is the dogs balls. I eat on the go or take what's easy all the time and for the most part i feel crappy for it. I have tasted the money saved through having a fridge full of groceries and being able to make an awesome meal with my plunder. The crazy part is that i can cook like the dickens and sometimes amaze myself at the stuff i dream up with no recipe or idea in mind. I just have a knack for food alchemy but rely on easy street food and the shit i have at work for sustenance. Excuse me but sandwiches and hot dogs are NOT food. I live with 6 other people who cook fresh wholesome meals at least 5 days a week and there is little excuse for me to not follow suit. I feel like such shit after filling myself with bread and cheese and then instead of taking responsibility for myself i sit in wonder as to why i feel like i need a nap after 8 hours of sleep and an intense yoga practice in the morning. Laziness is so frighteningly easy and it's a shame that so much of our constant stimulation in the media applauds being a lazy chud with easy to microwave options within arms reach. Fuck Egg McMuffins™, i want duck confit with a white wine reduction and a side of organic steamed vegetables.
 * Saving money and practicing a bit of frugality. This is really a no brainer. I spend far too much of the little money i have on nothing of lasting value. This doesn't mean the denial of having fun and going without but it does mean refraining from spending that $25 on a meal i could have cooked at home and putting said money into savings for a trip or a great book or some nice clothes. Money can create such a prison-like state and I am SO tired of thoughts pertaining to how much money i have left and how long it will be until i get more of it. I will however take heart in the fact that i have NEVER held a credit card and have no desire to do so. Also, i am for the most part, debt free. No student loans, no massive bills, no money owed to the mafia. Just rent and utilities and that's pretty freeing. Someday soon i will experience total financial freedom where none of these money worries even enter my mind, but until then i need to do the work in order to get there and that includes not being a money-dummy.
  So yeah, these are a few of my recent wish fulfillment thoughts. I don't think they're at all unreasonable, and in fact they are totally available to me RIGHT NOW! This is the beauty of intention setting. There's nobody there to tell you how or why you should do anything for any reason. It's yours and yours only. You can set your goals to be as big or small as you feel capable of committing to and the only person you can blame for your failure to do so is yourself. What could be more freeing than that? 
So what are your goals and/or intentions my friends? What are you going to do to change your life and mind? Share in the comments below, and in the meantime take a lesson from these cool cats.....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hDIYJTbWW2E
Thank you i love you! 
N

Building a better mouse trap

Finally! I've been waiting for this moment when inspiration takes hold and allows me to dump some words into the electronic ether. I sometimes fear that I'll run out of things to say or that I'll just lose steam and eventually abandon this model of communicating/gut spilling. But that old familiar feeling of pressure in the chest began to grow yesterday and i knew something was coming up. It's not entirely certain what I'd like to share today but I have an idea. It's been a full few weeks and I've been somewhat busy occupying myself with work/magazine stuff and friends and shows and girlfriend canoodling. All stuff that deserves a word or two but you know how it is, we live and we get caught up in stuff, In our heads and otherwise until it's time to spill it.

 Near the end of January I was lucky enough to "attend" a show by one of my favorite bands. One of my closest friends bought me a ticket to see Ween and believe me, it was a "thing to do before i die" kind of experience to have, being that friend Nate Z and i have been fans of this band for nearly 20 years. Many a good time has been spent going off on their tunes and over the years their sheer musical ridiculousness has become part of our friend repertoire, smoking weed and listening to Pollo Asado, laughing like a couple of school children until our belly's tapped out. And so it was with great excitement that we finally got the chance to see the band live. I was pumped, i was ready and i was even commissioned to write the review for the show, gaining an extra ticket in which i gave to my lovely Britt as she too is a fan. Well as fate would have it i got a little too amped up because i drank my damned face off. Way too much and way too fast. 4 songs in it was clear that i had fucked up as the Orpheum started spinning and everyone around me resembled alien-like static forms of their true selves. Then came the vomit and soon i was home. Good job Nathan, but on the same note a good job goes to Gene Ween for being equally as fucked and train wrecking all over the place making for what some would call a disappointment of a night. Though i didn't miss a technically amazing show due to Geners over indulgence i still missed an experience that i would loved to have shared with my people while in a better head space. If anything my disappointment lies there and ends there. But as things usually go there is a positive to be had within the mess of vomit and next day head-aches. I managed to pull off a pretty confident piece of writing about this show that i missed and as well i also was reminded of just how much i LOVE my fantastic girlfriend Britt. Without skipping a beat the girl was hoisting me out to the lobby and taking good care of me, ordering staff around to get me napkins and glasses of water which i drank and promptly puked back up. She took me home and nurtured me into bed where she lay with me until dawn when I had to get up for work. She was awesome and gave me more reason to believe beyond a shadow that she is a keeper to the end, not that there was any doubt. But sometimes it takes being in a vulnerable position where your partner takes care of you when you realize just how lucky you are. I am extremely fortunate to have her in my life.

                                           I love her a lot. My Britt.
 This was also a time of many birthdays. My friend and co-worker Vanessa, my father and my room-mate Erica all celebrated another spin and the celebrations we had for both Erica and Vanessa featured some of the most rousing versions of Happy Birthday that i have ever had the pleasure of being a part of. Singing loud, strong and proud with excellent friends who love the shit out of each other filled my heart with a joy that continues to resonate like an echo working overtime. This is the spice of life, these friendships and relationships that we keep and the things we do to make them stronger. To think that i spent even a second playing the victim, hiding out from grand experiences for fear of looking like a nerd or not fitting in, at times even in my own home. No more.
  My magazine stuff started up again in January and none too soon. Though i was occupying myself pretty well with this blog writing i was beginning to miss spinning words about music. But the Winter break was good for me and i noticed that because i spent time writing from a free-hand different perspective my magazine work got tighter and more effective. Through writing i became a better writer. Something has changed and i like it. This morning i Facebook posted a CD review that i felt pretty proud of and the feedback so far has been amazing. In a few short hours my post has made its way to band members, PR folks, family and friends as far as Montreal and I'm just sitting here kind of aghast. I mean, in my eyes it's really nothing. Some band made a record that resonated and i wrote the words that came from my gut and heart. It took little effort aside from that yet I'm being applauded for offering up what a couple have said is the best they've seen from me yet. I guess it still kind of amazes me, this stuff that i do. To say i feel humbled is an understatement. I mean yeah, I might be bragging a little bit, but i think I've earned the privilege of a pat on the back from time to time. I love what i do and i guess it's showing. I'm just so happy that i can offer these words in trade for hearing some of the mind numbingly awesome art these people have to share. Without them I'd have little to write about aside from my earthly existence and goings on which some of you deem worthy of reading about, and i thank you for that. Seriously. It means the world to me.

 So I've been thinking about some stuff over the last couple of days, taking stock and putting into perspective the elements that keep me interested and make life worth living. The tales I have told above are in part to do with this as well as a few recent bits that have gotten me to pondering. 
I have made no secret about the appreciation i have for my friends, family and home. Every day there are moments that open me up and give me reason to keep going strong. Even when i am at my shittiest i can count on at least one ingredient that makes the whole mess taste gourmet. Doubling over with laughter as i work shifts with Vanessa or Lyndsay, 2 girls that i LOVE to make laugh and who aren't afraid of my sometimes very crude and very random humor. Staying up past 1AM with my roomie Shawn Luco, playing games, drinking vodka and watching you tube vids when i should be in bed with an early start ahead. Walking up to my Britt's apartment and seeing her working away at her craft table, her shock of red dreads and white alabaster skin giving me a charge in the heart and grin on the mouth. Did i mention that i am totally fucking in LOVE with that girl? Well it's true, i am. Hanging out with my folks and Nate Z on dads birthday sharing laughs, food and togetherness. Working a job i really really love with and for people i really really love. Writing. Fucking. Feeling ultimately free spirited. These are things that keep me feeling rich and young and happy. 
But there is more to it than that. There is more freedom and more happiness to be had. Though i enjoy my job it is SO not what i want to be doing in the long run. Slinging lattes and delivering the Straight at 45 is not my ideal and i refuse to accept that reality. Making just enough money to pay my way through life and maybe save up for a trip once in a while is SO not what i see as my ideal, as lovely and easy as it feels at present. I'm 36 and am now just discovering what makes me tick happily. I am working that and following the direction of its forward momentum and that's all fine and good. But i want more.
I choose more.
I am lucky to have some incredible forces in my life that remind me of the human potential almost every day and it is because of them that i have been thinking about stuff. 
The wheels really started spinning yesterday when pally Nate Z posted this.....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7InFbmD6oM
I love this guy a lot and haven't a scant of doubt that he's well on his way to the life he deserves and wishes to have. This video resonated with me on many levels and i think it's the simplicity of it all. Happiness and success are so easy to reach for. The only thing that makes it hard is calling the work 'hard'. As a result i have chosen to enrich my life even more by tapping into the sources that feed and bring me joy. Even if i don't make my millions by lifes end i will have lived fully, which is SO much more than can be said for a lot of people out there. Of course, making shit loads of cash doing what i love to do will be nice as well. When i have a family of my own I certainly want to be able to provide both a stable heart and home for them. Kind of like this guy and his family....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T_u7ddS1bkE
I love these people a lot. I don't even know them personally but have watched in their daily video blogs as they've gone from working mundane jobs to living very comfortably in a short amount of time, doing what makes them happy. For over a year i have felt kind of like a side stage witness to their life put online for the world to see, their wonderful marriage and well adjusted children acting as a model for so many. If i could have a life half as active and laughter filled as this guy, i would call myself a success. I am honored to "know" them. I am thrilled to watch as they grow. A million plus viewers can't be wrong, right?
And I am so fortunate to have a woman in my life who reminds me of the simple pleasures. Her crafty ways and ability to vibrate with happiness so easily keeps me on my toes and in my heart. She loves building things out of fabric, yarn and paper and the lives she touches are forever altered. She is filled with life and love and if i could be half as joyous as she can be over a half knit stocking then my easy passage through life is imminent.
These folks, experiences and more have given me so much reason to live longer, push harder and to be stronger. I have spent way too much time lamenting about my losses and about stupid shit like rainy days and lost objects. I won't say life is too short, because i don't really think it is. But i do think it's too precious to waste on being a victim and ignoring the simple call toward happy living. It's really not that hard. I am discovering this more all the time.
And with that i bid you a good night and much happy joy hunting.
                                           As always...thank you....

A little whistle in the heart

 If asked i wouldn't be able to tell you the science behind what happens when we are experiencing in something that we really enjoy. I'm sure it's chemical and biological at some level. Perhaps spiritual. But these are all words we've made up about stuff we pretend that we know about, as are the words I am writing right now, all ideas about shit i know nothing of. Regurgitating words that have been said before in a million different ways by a million different people each with their own little slice of "how it is" pie. 
Pleasure is an interesting thing. I don't often stop and ask "why" about the various pleasures i feel in this life i live. They just are and i like them. But there is one that mystifies me every time, and not because i want to know the whys of it or anything like that. I just marvel at the consistency of it and how it takes over my body like nothing else. And i ain't talking about sex here. But sometimes it feels that way.
Most of you know that i have been a hardcore music nut for as early in life as i could be. Both of my folks in my younger years were deep appreciators of music and i grew up with some great early roots done played over the old hi-fi. My dad often played guitar and before they were together he was playing in a hippie band that I am convinced could have done some good things. But then had he gone on to a big time music career then i probably wouldn't be "me" or be here writing these words to you, my friends, family, lovers and otherwise. I'm glad I'm here doing those things.
I sometimes wonder about those nights when i was a kid, my folks and i would go over to Uncle Barry and Aunt Lois' house for dinner. Afterward we'd be hanging out in the living room and sometimes the weed would come out and they'd all get high and listen to awesome music. I used to love that because they'd always get much funnier and I'd be funnier too. They'd play The Cars, Dire Straights, Moody Blues and other staples of the music lover at the time. Those nights had such an impression on me and perhaps i was getting contact high and tripping on the tunes but i firmly believe those nights were partly responsible for my love of music to this day. That and when my dad would play Beatles and sing Bob Dylan as part of my end of night story-time. Music has always been a rich part of my life.
I am pretty grateful to have not lost my zip and zing for awesome songs at 36. It's sad to me that some folks just lose interest and let this amazing art form take a back seat. Even if you don't have all the time in the world to invest in keeping up and staying "cool" there is always time to close your eyes and let your favorite song take you back to your self. To let it give you joyful little outbursts when you're out in public with the headphones on and you just can't help yourself.
But we do what we do and not everyone can care about rich melodies and warm movements that shake you to the core. Me, i let it take me as often as i can. I may not question why, but i certainly take notice of just how deeply a song can affect me. Songs that i have been listening to for years still amaze me. Those moments in the bridge where something oh so subtle happens and it still makes me smile, and maybe even more so because of how well i have gotten to know it, my old tuney friend.
There is an album by a band called Neutral Milk Hotel that i would listen to nearly every day for at least 2 years from start to finish. Never single songs or half an album. If i listened i was committed. It was ritual and it was wonderful and it felt fantastic to sing along with every word and just be fucking shattered by how incredible this music was and how it moved me so deeply.
Man, if you could see me in my private moments.....i keep the weeping and gesticulating down to a minimum when in public but holy shit, hit me with a favorite song and I'm lost, hopping from planets and swimming in seas of fun and candy floss and sometimes tears. I feel it in every centimeter of my body, but especially in my guts and heart. It feels like a very physical thing and i definitely have a physical reaction to music, but it's the subtle movements that i think are really neat. How i will sometimes double up a bit as if i can't take any more in that part of my body, or how something as simple as the trailing off of a perfect guitar strum will create a ball of intense emotion in my throat every time i hear it, or how a wave of sound will wash me like a bath of warm mint light. I love it. And i am thankful for the ability to feel music in this way. I am thankful for the people who make music and even more thankful when i see how much it means to them too. I am thankful for being an old fart who wants more of this stuff and is in a position to explore it. I am SO thankful for the ability to write about it.
I guess my return to magazine work after the holidays has got me to ponderin'. 
Being able to write about the stuff i love makes me understand it a little more, makes me appreciate it even more and ultimately allows me to express more fully who and what i am and how i roll.
I believe that these moments of wonder, when we are leaping from the moon into pools of mint water pleasure, that we are simply present, in the moment and with our deepest feelings and if that's the case then i want to be rocking out at shows and dancing in my room with tears in my eyes until the day i drop and die. 
And that's all i have to say tonight.....


Hold on to the happy things. They will set you free.
Thank you i love you. N

A toast and a few words about the times

I never really make new years resolutions. I think about it and even go as far as writing a few down but I'm not much for making promises or forcing myself into things for traditions sake. Intentions are an everyday thing and i prefer to make personal shifts and alterations to my behavior when it is circumstantial and feels right for me. However i do take time at the end of each year to count my blessings and reflect on the past 365 days of life lived (hopefully) well. On top of this year having passed we are entering into a new decade which makes me think even more about the places i have been to and the faces i saw when i got there. 
So, I'm not going to break it down in chronological order and bore you with every minute detail of 10 years in the life of Nathan Pike. Hell, i don't even want to dredge up half of that shit because it's probably rather dull and spotty due to a decade of on and off weed abuse and taking for granted certain things i probably ought to have paid a little more attention to as well as random memories that will only mean something to me and maybe the person(s) involved. Like, do you really need to know about the time at Tree's when i ate space cakes with my co-worker Shanti while on shift and just when they really started kicking in the boss, his wife and their friends from Israel walked in with the hope of being impressed by the "model employees"?
No. You don't.  And I'd just be bragging. I'm not about drug stories and epic tales of how much i can drink. That shit is for teenagers and skids, and i am neither.
But i will share a couple of early bits that stick out along with things that make me scratch my head in wonder. There may be some order to it, but I'm a rag-tag kind of fellow and i make no promises. It is what it is what it is what it is forevermore.

Parts of 2000 were spent jet setting and getting involved with women who weren't so great for me. At the time it was lovely and despite the pain involved i wouldn't change a thing about it, and i can selfishly say that i managed to charm the pants off a couple of ladies who, as a result, took me on trips around the world. I saw Australia and explored her vastness for 4 months and learned a whole heck of a lot about myself, such as how fucking messed up and frightened i was of truly living. It took getting unceremoniously dumped and stranded in the middle of a strange land with a nickle to my name to gain even a hint of self reliance and even when back on home-land i still grabbed at any opportunity that would take me away from the lonely suffocating heart i had weakly pumping away inside of my chest. Namely in the form of a lot of drinking and escapism on the back steps of the house i was staying at. True enough, that Summer WAS a blast and a half and i made a few really good friends....and the pretty girl with big tits next door DID take me to Hawaii for a couple of weeks.....and i did land a pretty sweet job serving healthy food with an amazing woman and her mom.....and i did move house with one of my best friends and had a great experience of it. Yeah, there were decent things to remember that year and even though i may chat crap a bit about a few details i truly feel that 2000 was the year i really started living, even if it broke me in the process.
My favorite clear memory off the top of my head? Coming home after work to find Nate Z sitting on the couch, lips stained red from a bottle of wine polished off by his lonesome, drunk and depressed because the girl he had a crush on turned him down for a date. I'm not heartless and i don't laugh at his pain, but the look on his face and his purple lips.....it was just fucking priceless and made me love the guy even more.
  Hey, remember 2001? Yeah, that's when some Arab guys hijacked planes and helped to turn a couple of massive buildings literally into dust, killing nearly 3000 people in the process. I remember working that afternoon at the restaurant and being SO pissed off at people for filling up the place and carrying on like nothing had happened, their sandwich and soup combos being far more important than our nations possibly being on the brink of a world war. I came home in a stupor, not quite sure how to deal or feel and instead chose numbness and prayer. 
And then life went on. We went to our jobs and maybe made some empty promises to love and care more for one another and eventually we pushed it to the back of our memory. A black scar in our consciousness that will never really go away and has since become mired in ridiculous conspiracy theories and well-to-do uneducated guesses and assumptions. That is my biggest memory of that year, aside from moving into the home i live in now, on which i have spoken at length in a previous post.
  And, you know, after that there are a lot of years that just kind of flew by. I made friends, i made peace and i moved forward. I discovered pure love in the form of a tall beautiful yogi named Shannon who allowed me to be just me and who unerringly insisted on being just her. She was a milestone and set the bar for future love to come. 
I discovered the heart of my yoga practice and began the process of taking on teachers and diving to deeper levels. To this day i can still hear the voice of my first true teacher, Cathy Valentine and her amazingly precise and gentle path through asana. To this day i still feel those teachings in my body and in how i practice. I remember getting hard-core into Ashtanga yoga and experiencing my first yoga community. It was around this time, 2004 i think, when i realized that i had a yoga teacher in me that was just itching to come out and at the suggestion of a friend and some very auspicious coincidence i took on the teacher who guided that essence out of me and into the classroom. Carolyn Mcmanus was/is a gem and truly one of the best people who I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.
I also discovered in this time and in the following years that the yoga community can be an extremely ego driven self important load of kak and that Vancouver is NOT in any immediate need of yet another teacher. So i stopped. Some might call that a shame and a waste of talent, but i call it preservation of my sanity marbles. As much as i love and stand by my yoga practice,  the whole 'yoga scene' and big city community seems to have become a watered down shadow of its true self and i have no interest in becoming the next 'spiritual rock star'.
One of the favorite things my teacher once said in class was, "Yoga was NEVER meant to be bought. It was meant to be shared, explored, and experienced. There is no room for overpriced 90-day passes in this lifestyle choice." I will carry that with me to the grave and into whatever classes i may find myself in front of in the future.
  And yet there is more that comes to mind. People and places that stick to me like glue. The room-mates and friends i have gotten to know in this home in which i dwell. The 2 years i spent so deeply in love with a woman named Syd and the changed man i was when i came out the other side. Stronger, more self aware with an understanding of the female psyche and finally enough confidence and love of self to make it through the world on my own. The breakup that hurt so much that even today i can dig it up and still feel the gut wrenching pain i felt back then. The insomnia, sickness and depression that followed. The random attack out of nowhere one night on Commercial Drive that left me scared to walk in my own neighborhood for months. The healing and moving on from that. Discovering that i had a knack for writing and being given a mighty big break in which to practice this art. It boggles my mind to think that i have been published across Canada a few times and that possibly hundreds or more read my words on the regular and that it has gotten to the point where people are coming to ME to write about their art. It's crazy and i don't know how the fuck it happened, but it did and i love it more all the time. I am so thankful for this and more. The new friends. The present day. What i have now. Who i have now. Who i love now. All of these are the touchstones i keep firmly tucked away in the recesses of my mind. These things and more happened in my tiny little life within the last 10 years.
When i think about it, there is a lot. More than i want to write about here and now. But the above are the easy to grab hold of memories that poured out of my fingers and onto screen. 
I could fill this page with names of people who touch me on a daily basis and i could write a novel the length of the Srimad Bhagavatam on the bits that astound me about good things, places, and people both past and present. But those people, places and things know who and what they are because i honor them as often as i can.
 Okay.....so i know i tend to go off on hippy love trips here, and that has been kind of the point of this whole bloggy thing. This writing is therapy for me. It seems the more i do this, the better i become both in my heart and how i deal. Sure i still can't believe the nerve of some people and in my private little world i might hate them for a breath or two, but i haven't really given any time on this blog to talking shit. So in the spirit of year end top 10 lists, i offer you my ramshackle end of decade 'what the fuck?' list. It's pretty random, but it's all stuff that kind of stops me in my tracks and i guess it's relevant to the last decade as it must have somehow been uncovered by me in my travels through life or whatever. 


1) Uggs. These are among the worst looking forms of footwear i have ever seen on a body. 
They go hand in hand with sweatpants, old school gym shorts and big ass glasses worn only for hipster fashion means. Congratulations, you look like you just washed up dead on shore or fell to earth from fucking Neptoon.


2) Using an already dated and bad song to make an even worse club hit. Seriously, tonight i heard a horrible dance track using a line from "I've Had the Time of My Life" and it wasn't even using the original vocal track and when it got to "...had the time." the genius behind the mixer felt it necessary to bastardize it even more by staggering the word 'time', like 'tuh-tuh-tuh-time of my life'...Total horribleness that made me want to crawl up Christs ass and die.


3) 80's throwback modern synth pop that appeals mostly to privileged young cunts who do the awkward dance and reminisce like they know how it was back when they were a year old or less. 


4) Old farts like me who hate on shit that really has no bearing on the happiness and contentment that is possible.


5) Wide eyed idealist hippie types who pass everything off as being "all good" and "in the natural flow of things". Okay, so your ability to dance barefoot in mud and hook up with really hot people is kind of enviable, but when it comes down to fight or flight and the strongest surviving, you my friends will be food for the masses. Meat, if you will. Ironic, considering half of these people are staunch vegetarians and such.


6) Militant activists. The Vancouver Winter Olympics saw some of this action in the form of a bunch of balaclava wearing meat-heads who thought that tossing Xtra-West boxes through windows and scaring tourists was the way to changing our social ills. Don't get me wrong, homelessness and rich getting richer as the poor get colder sucks hard. Senseless, misdirected rage died with the cave-people, and even then there was likely an instinctual method to madness.


7) Drivers. I'm sorry, if I am on foot and you are in car i don't trust you. Too often i have been given the 'right of way' at a cross-walk only to be nearly run down because you forgot that you stopped for me or thought i wasn't going to cross when the little man told me to. I know there are plenty of conscious drivers out there and i will gladly buckle up and go for a drive, but if we are on opposite ends of the travel spectrum, i will go out of my way to avoid you. Nothing personal. It's just that you probably suck.


8) Texting while walking or doing most things actually. YOU PEOPLE ARE FUCKING ZOMBIES!!!!!! It is SO disheartening to be sitting on the bus and to see some closed off frowning sad-sap of a person get on, walk to a seat, plop themselves down and without skipping a beat the text machine is out and they're madly firing off woe-is-me messages to their stupid friend who's probably on another bus across town. Like, seriously, they almost literally throw themselves into their seat and whip out the cell phone like they're drawing their piece in a gun showdown. We have lost the art of watching and listening in favor of constant stimulus from our electronic friends. There is so much to soak in if you take a second of presence. But maybe i should thank you for making more room for those of us who actually ENJOY engaging with the real world.


9) Employers who use and abuse the staff that has helped to make their selfish little dream possible. What can i say about this? It's 2011 and there is still a rampant idea in some employers minds that it is okay to make other human beings eat shit. But then, times can be tough and we take what we can get as far as jobs go, and as long as someone is willing to take spiritual rape on a daily basis there are lecherous mealy mouthed fuckers who will happily hire them.


10) Thievery and vandalism. You break into my house and steal my shit i will steal your eyes from their sockets. Nothing raises my dander more than walking by a freshly broken into car or building. Again, times are tough and we get stupidly addicted to stupid drugs and such, but you have no right or reason to invade another persons personal space so you can feed your need. Fuck you a million times over and then fuck you to hell. 
And lots of graffiti art is cool and I'm so glad there are public spaces both legal and not that are just coated in these colorful tapestries full of hidden meaning and words. I even get tags and all of that, but when it comes to mailboxes, bus windows and the front window of where i work......that shit is just showboating nonsense that holds nothing but hot air. Really, is that bush your "turf"? Really?? Y'all should have your hands chopped off just like in the good old days.

And with that i leave you. Back to the happy.
Thank you to all who read my writings on all things personal and otherwise. Whether you agree with who i am and what i have to say or not, your support and encouragement is awesome. When you tell me that you read something i wrote i feel truly humbled. When you tell me that it touched or spoke to you, well that is a gift. I may have my shitty days and i may dwell on matters that don't matter. I may be hard on people and i may hate more frequently than I'd like, but I'm trying. I'm trying to take the experiences and things i have learned over this last 10 years and to make myself a better human because of it. So i get angry at dumb stuff. At least i don't keep it in a bottle of rage set to explode the second someone says the wrong thing. I am present with it. I have a sense of humor about it. And at the end of the day, no matter what it is, i let it go and get back to what's really important. Such as the friends i keep, the mountains i see from my window and the daily magical happenings that keep me in a state of wonder.

It has been a rich and juicy 10 years. Thanks for coming along with me. I love you.

I'd like a pony and some GI Joes.

As we draw closer to Christmas and the closing of the year I find myself in a contemplative state, deep in inner questioning about how we choose to celebrate and why, doing my best not to let the pressures and stress of this month weigh me down. As an adult without children and no firm roots in religious belief i move through these days with cautious care, breathing in my truth and trying to remain open to some of this holiday magic and cheer. 
It's not always easy.
Perhaps it was the build up of a few childhood Christmases gone weird due to family bullshit drama that didn't necessarily touch me directly but was absorbed nonetheless or maybe it's about not having children with whom to share in these seasonal times. Whatever the case may be, i am aware that December has always been a month where i feel like I'm wearing a suit of armor and my heart feels like it's wrapped in thick saran.
I'm no Grinch and i won't poo-poo on other peoples joy and fun but it's hard for me not to sink just a little bit and I'm at the point in my life where I'd like to know why. I'd like to truly feel this time of year and for it not to be at all forced.
I suppose living in a climate that offers only a cock-tease of a Winter for all of five minutes isn't helping a whole lot. 8 months of rain and gray will take the wind out of most sun and snow worshipers sails. Living in a very young city that isn't famously known for it's overly friendly and open inhabitants could factor in as well. We're not horrible to each other, but if I'm out of my own cozy neighborhood then chances are that i am virtually a stranger who's forced to keep to himself for fear of being judged as weird or whatever. Eye contact and friendly hello's to strangers? Yyyyeah, not so much.
And I'd rather take a white hot needle to the eye than brave the fucking madness that is shopping. I find it hard to feel jolly when throngs of people around me are so lost in the fervor of 'getting stuff' that they can't see their heart for the green in their wallet, encouraged by the constant barrage and pressure from every angle to shop here and buy more. In many ways the spirit seems to have been lost and in fact, i wonder how many people really even know WHY they're celebrating besides it being the 'thing that we do' come December. I'm sure many have their reasons and i don't want to accuse people of being thoughtless soulless lemmings, although looking from outside the ultra-consumerist box it's hard not to fall into that role of judgement. It's hard not to feel just a little inadequate. It's hard not to feel like an outsider and to react by resenting the whole thing. Especially when I'm not pulling in the kind of money I'd like to be or to have a huge family 'back home' who i can spend this time with. Having those things might make it feel different, but i shouldn't have to want anything more than i have in order to make this a meaningful and truly magical time. Don't get me wrong, i love what and who i have in my life and wouldn't trade a shred of it for all the tea Chinatown, but i have to wonder sometimes about the lingering hints of sadness i feel when i hear about the massive family gatherings or how my heart drops a little when i see the inside of a home fully decked out, tree pregnant with ornaments and gifts. In a way....some small way, i kind of wish i had that, even once.

Okay, so it's not all horrible. Maybe I'm being too hard on people and myself, allowing my 'stuff' to color in how i feel around this time of year. It's not like I've had a string of terribly sad Christmases and i can definitely feel a shift in energy that is positive and nice to be around at the best of times. I love the freshness in the air and cheeks that have been dyed red by the temperature drop. I love the bit of snow that we do get and i love seeing my folks and overeating at Christmas supper. I love the stupid holiday movies and the classics and i love having someone to share them with. I love that my Britt appreciates this time of year so much and is totally shameless in her excitement over it. I love that some of my friends are celebrating their first with children who are old/young enough to believe in the magic. And yes, i even love the magic and mythological story of Santa and the "true meaning of Christmas".
In the end, for me i think it's about intention. I think it's about taking hold of what feels right and true in the heart and making it my own. I think it's about leaving the consumer pressure and all the bullshit at the door and getting to the heart of matters, which is love, respect, unity and leaving people to their own stories and stress. For too long now i have taken on too much and for too long now i have held the idea that this whole business is simply that, too much. 
My life is what it is and as stated in a previous post i have so very much to be thankful for, and that grows with each passing year. I have more love and patience than i believe i have ever had and I have no business sinking into a selfish depression just because I'm not living some "ideal" that the Province newspaper said i should be living. Fuck that. I don't need a new Sony Google TV and i certainly don't need thirty extra loved ones to think about when gifting. My simple and humble life is beautiful and from this moment on i intend to make the best of this season, carrying it on into the next. That's all i want, is an easy heart and love based words to be falling from my tongue and in my thoughts. The rest is cream and i will remain appreciative to the end like this kid.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFlcqWQVVuU

Thank you i love you, and merry whatever to all.

The chicken coop

Down on intersecting streets just off Hastings there is a humble little home where my heart rests firmly. This home where i lay my head and meager possessions is a gift that gives daily. It may not look like much, but it is my home and has been for almost 10 years.
I had no inkling when i moved in on June 1 2001 that this creaky old building would enrich the lives of so many. Literally hundreds of bodies have moved between these walls in the time i have been here and not once do i remember a single person feeling uncomfortable within, a typical reaction being an intake of the breath followed by a sigh and a smile. Entering through the kitchen you are taken by a spell that hangs in the air, or perhaps it is the home-made food being cooked on the regular. Those that enter are suddenly transported to a home-like place and chances are they will be back for more, so potent is the energy that has soaked into the inner workings of this inanimate yet living breathing structure called a house. This is my home and i love it. 
But this home would be nothing if it weren't for the inhabitants that have passed through it over the years. Be it the nocturnal pothead couple i originally moved in with or the hip-hop crew and graffiti artist collective who took their place. Then there were the alterna-hippy idealists and gentle anarchists as well as every freak and geek in between leading to the colorful group i live with now, So many personalities and so many memories held here. 
The massive block rockin' house parties that stretched until dawn, the dinner gatherings, the movie nights, the new girlfriends brought home who became a regular fixture and sometimes part of the family, the bands in back yards and living rooms, the laughter (SO much laughter!), the array of music streaming from bedrooms, the thousands of hours worth of yoga practiced in big well lit rooms, the visitors from out of town, 1 very special very crazy week culminating in the marriage of roomies Tim and Lucia, the growth, the heartache, the healing......This is my home and i love it. I love the people who made it this way.
She may not look like much, this creaky old former printing press/office space. The paint may be hanging from the ceiling in strips the size of bedsheets and the downstairs bathroom may be molding like month old bread but the soil in the backyard is rich and fertile and makes an excellent garden. My bedroom windows might be thin with the odd crack, letting the Winter chills in that much easier but my floors are wooden and my stretching space is ample. We may have the chicken rendering plant a block away and the prostitutes selling their wares right under our noses but inside it is warm and if you're lucky you might just get to share in a meal or drink with any one of the 7 amazing people who live here with the promise that you'll always be welcomed back. She may have her blemishes and unhealed war wounds, but she is my home.
She is my castle.
She is where i rest my head. 
She is where my heart is, and i love her.

Spiritual alchemy

I remember the first week I took to a daily yoga practice. Purely physical and pure fucking torture to this unconditioned overweight body, oddly within a couple of days i was hooked on it. I was studying from this cryptic old manual called "Richard Hittleman's Yoga: 28-day Exercise Plan". As dated as it was, this manual helped to create the foundation on which i practice some 14 years later. 
There was never really this huge shining moment or grand realization that a daily yoga practice was what i needed for myself. There was never a teacher that suggested i try this stuff out, and in fact there was really very little in the way of prompts that steered me in this direction. It just sort of happened organically.
I was always of a "spiritual" mind, meaning that i intrinsically felt that there was much more beyond skin and bones, birth and death. I never took to the notion that i should fear any sort of wrathful God or that there was even this all encompassing God entity that gave us life and could snuff it out in a heartbeat. There was something at work that moved through us but i didn't have a clue what it looked like. Living in the question always seemed to be the road i traveled down and when something made sense to me or fit in with the ever malleable ideas i already held i would take it in and look at it and apply as needed. So when yoga came my way i was open and ready for it. My first introduction to the word "yoga" and the surrounding branches, meanings, bits and pieces etc was in the form of the book "Autobiography Of A Yogi" by Paramhansa Yogananda. It told the fantastic tale of an Indian mystic and the various signposts and teachers that brought him to enlightenment. This story was so incredible, his experiences so out of this world and beyond my imagining that i couldn't put the book down for months. Once i had finished i went right back to the beginning and started again. I must have read that book four times over in half a year and it never got tired. This amazing story resonated with me on so many levels, as unbelievable as entire chapters might have been i knew in my heart that i had stumbled upon something big, and that something big opened my heart just enough for me to stumble upon something bigger. As little as i knew about the meaning of yoga, i knew without a doubt that i was on my way home and that the path was slowly being etched before me.

Yes, that first week was pretty rough. I remember clearly how racked with pain my body was as i tried to take a seated forward fold(Paschimotanasana). Tears flooded my eyes as i huffed my way through series of twists and stretches and weird breathing exercises, cursing myself for committing to a month of this shit. Then that first week turned into the second, and then the third. Almost every day i took a half an hour to an hour and did my exercises, marveling afterward about how calm i felt. Suddenly i was sleeping better, smiling more often and not getting so worked up over the small stuff. My relationship to the breath started changing and my lungs began to take a more healthy shape. Most importantly i began to not only see my own potential and power, i reclaimed that shit for my own! 
Weeks turned into a few months and as my life changed drastically i rode the crest of this new found love through some tough terrain. Taking my power back the whole way. Making it mine again.
Months turned into a few years and still i took to a yoga practice every day. I knew not why, i just did it. It felt right for my body to be taking these movements, it felt right for my lungs to be breathing and expanding and being utilized fully. It felt right in my mind to be embracing the beginning of each day with a an hour or more of this stuff, the result being a calmer, fitter and happier Nathan.
Years turned into more years and eventually practice became prayer. The right teachers showed up at the right times and with them i was guided into deeper levels of being. Along the line this "exercise plan" became the most potent thing in my life. 
14 years and i can count the number of days i have missed on less than five fingers. That to me is incredible. I still don't understand it fully, and i doubt i ever will. All i know is that it makes me a more effective human being. It makes me a better lover(in all respects). It keeps me present and ever in the question. It has made me stronger of mind, body and soul. And it's just plain fun. 
To think that i can roll out my stinky little yoga mat, feeling like a bag of shit, full of chunky icy gross behind the eyes feelings, and within 10 minutes it's as if i have been dipped in liquid silver....that to me is a huge reason as to why i keep coming back to it, every day. Day after day.
It's amazing to me.
Those that know me know that i am probably not your typical yogi. I like to swear and say gross inappropriate things. I'm a bit of a violence enthusiast and hardcore music is flowers to my ears. I get angry at people and when not in my heart i can be quite hard on them when i want to be. I've stolen things in my day, I like to eat meat and I'm not ashamed to admit that I have had my fun with drugs and alcohol. By all accounts I am probably not the living model for yogis everywhere. 
But i do my best. And i am humble. And i am real. I am truthful and loyal as all hell. I have a lot of love to give and apparently i make people happy. I must be doing something right. 
I will keep on trying for the sake of my fellow human and for the health of my being. It feels absolutely excellent to have an open heart. To love without condition. To be getting older while feeling years younger. 
I may be far from perfect and honestly i never want to be, but i am happy and have tasted joy.
Every day i taste joy and give thanks.
That is one of the greatest gifts this practice has offered me.
14 years. Here's to many more.

Thank you i love you.
N

Reflections on a life better lived

2 years ago i had too much hair on my head, too much snow on the ground and way too much pain in my heart. 2 years ago i was waking up most mornings with a sigh, heaving myself through the day with the faint glimmer of relief knowing that whenever i got finished with my work day that I'd be able to park myself in front of the computer and smoke myself to sleep. 
 I don't mean to paint a picture of desperation and hopelessness here. I was far from suicidal or clinically depressed, but i think it was the closest i ever got to experiencing a bottoming out. Fresh from a year of heartbreak, insomnia, and the fallout from a brazened and random physical attack by a couple of drunk thugs i was moving through some dark days. That Winter we got snow-dumped and what i had hoped to be an adventurous week off of work turned into my being stuck inside waiting for the big melt. It had its moments....but man.....i think to back then and look at my heart now. 
I am so grateful!
For health.
For fine friends.
For a love supreme.
For those shining moments......
Like when i see my friend Vanessa and we share boundless love.
Like whenever my friend Audrey smiles with her heart.
Like when i wake after a sound sleep with my lover.
Like getting excited over buying a treat for a loved one.
Like being 36 and still being able to rock out and fully enjoy music.
Like pictures that make me feel "holiday-like"

Like the smell of this particular Christmas tree in her apartment, and how she will get up in the morning with the purpose in mind to "go check out the tree".

Point being, I feel like i have a lot to be thankful for. More than i can express in one stupid blog post. There are a myriad of ways every day and I'm not going to bore you with it.
Point being, I am happy to be here right now. Life feels rich and full and interesting and full of flavor.
There's no more time for this frowny shit.
So, as i am fond of saying....thank you, i love you!
N