Keira-anne.com

A peafowl’s lifespan is roughly 20-24 years. After close to six months of age, it becomes easier to tell the difference in sexes, and once it reaches approximately three years old, the peafowl’s tail grows a cover of brightly coloured tail feathers, often known as a train.

I have long been attracted to the peafowl because of its vibrant plummage and unique physical stature. In fact, to this day I still own a pair of tail feathers that I collected at Stanley Park when I was just 5 years old. Peafowls are rather regal in appearance and are known to be creatures of habit. The colours a peafowl displays are completely surreal, and perhaps it is in that alone that I feel the draw.

Original Photo: Canuck Gtrplyr on Flickr (Used With Permission)

Anyone that is close to me and in my “inner circle” knows full well that I am in a period of immense personal growth right now. The best word I could use to describe this time is exhilerating. Rather than exploring beliefs, ideas and the like, I am simply exploring “Keira-Anne” and figuring out what she is all about. I can’t even say that I know where all of this has come from, but much like a young peafowl, I feel as though I too am preparing to display my vibrant colours.

CHANGE

Change is at the core of everything that I’m experiencing and about to experience. In re-evaluating what I value, what is important to me and what I ultimately want in life, the conclusions have been surprising to say the least.

Beautifully, for the first time I am understanding what it is truly like to surround myself with friends, loved ones and the endeavours I treasure and to be happy with that. I am not in love or “infatuated” with anyone and, truth be told, it feels fantastic! And beyond that, I’m even starting to question whether I even want a consistent, long-term partner in my life. I know a lot of happily married people, but I also know a lot of unhappily married people. I’m not sure why it is that so many equate marriage to happiness in life. It’s not a definitive conclusion.

The beauty of change is that it is constant and anything but stale and stagnant. That being said, it’s quite possible (and likely) that these views will again morph into something else. New ideas and concepts will dance across my mind and I will undoubtedly learn more about who I am as time goes on. What I cherish most about this season is that I am learning to madly love who I am, what I see in the mirror, the people in my life and the idea of living with less rather than more.

More of what’s good for me, less of what’s toxic.

This morning I woke with the sun and made an early morning trek to Chinatown to partake in a Hidden Language yoga class with two beautiful ladies, Phaedra and Jennifer. Being more of one who enjoys the practice of yoga as a whole (being mind, spirit and body), I was sure that this class held the benefits I desired. I am not sure what I believe in terms of ideas such as chakras and energy centres, but I’m open minded and not at all oblivious to the fact that we each possess a great deal of our own insights; the question is how do we tap into those insights? I may have tapped into some of my awareness with one simple question asked of each of us during our practice: “What do you know in your heart?”

I suddenly dropped my head in an effort to halt the tears I knew wanted to come. The answer came instantly and it came clear.

Love is grassroots.

Photo: Baileyblack on Flickr

As I sat in meditation, I saw the faces of the people in my life that I love. I saw my family members, my friends. What struck me about my love for them is how it is I demonstrate it to them. Love isn’t exemplified through encouragement notes or gifts or acting sweetly. It isn’t even necessarily validated through words.

Love is an action that we take. It is forgiveness, understanding, caring. To truly love somebody is to see the beauty in them that they often don’t see themselves. Sometimes they refuse to see it.

Real love is the most complex concept demonstrated in the most simple of ways.

Even in such retrospect, every detail is glaringly clear. That day was completely unlike this day. There were no clouds in the sky; there were no clouds in her sky. Her disposition was ripe with self-import. During the 45-minute drive, a handful of Rilo Kiley tracks shuffled around in the stereo and reverberated through the speakers. Warmth and sea air sank in through the windshield, filling the car. She looked beautiful. She knew she looked beautiful.

Photo: Rapsak on Flickr

The brakes slowed the car to a stop. She reversed the turn of the key and shut the engine off. Under her feet, countless rocks and pebbles crunched and groaned with each step. As she stood before the door, her knuckles raised to make contact with the hardwood but there was hesitance. The brief moment passed until skin met wood. He was already waiting on the other side of the door; her hand barely left the door before it opened.

Blissful smiles.

It had been far too long.

The sun was preparing to say its final goodbyes for the day as he and she made their way into the forest. He held her hand through the mud. They walked parallel and in sync with the train tracks that became their path. In the distance, the tracks veered left into the very trees that the sun was settling into. Before long, civilization had dawned upon them but the streets were quiet. Shops were shut, families were in their homes and a crisp feeling slipped into the air. It didn’t take long for them to realize that home was where they should be too.

Turning around, they began the trek back to a place of warm fires, cozy blankets, cold beer, conversation, soft pillows and laughter. By this time, the sky’s canvas had been painted midnight blue to allow the stars to wink and twinkle. One foot in front of the other, they were almost there. She stopped in her place and looked at him. He already knew what she was about to think before the thought danced into her mind. Her glance moved from his face to the sky. The trees reached up beyond where they stood, stretching towards the luminance.

Photo: Phil Peck on Flickr

The epiphany hit her hard and fast: “This is what it’s all about…this is all that matters.”

That moment became frozen in her time. Years later, it is still all that matters.

There is one thing I know for sure that women today do not have enough of. Other women. I’ve spent much time over the last several days thinking, talking, learning, inspiring, instigating, gaining insight and pondering how important friendships are among women. There is a lot of strength and love to be found there, penultimate only to the strength and love we need to seek within ourselves. Remembering to take care of one’s self is a daily necessity and yet something that we seemingly need to be reminded of each day.

After work, I skipped down Main Street with my friend Kortney to meet up with Phaedra and take in a yoga practice. I’ve needed to get back into it for a long time, but I wanted to avoid two things: 1) high membership fees; and 2) the pretentiousness and competitive nature of 99% of yoga studios in downtown Vancouver. Last week, Phaedra discovered Radha Yoga and Eatery in Chinatown.

“radha yoga & eatery offers yoga in a beautiful studio room, consciously-created vegan food in the restaurant, and art & music events for inspiration…radha is a sacred space that embraces people, art and culture. Community is supported and all spiritual traditions are valued. In Eastern mythology Radha flees ordinary life to be with her divine lover, who calls with his mystical flute. “Radha” means cosmic love. At radha you are invited to taste nourishment on all levels.”

I spent a little over an hour clearing my mind of the day’s mud puddles while simultaneously realizing each and every instance I came across for what it was. To further explain how my yoga practice affected me is really pointless because it’s something that really needs to be experienced in every aspect to be fully understood.

After yoga, we nourished our bodies at The Foundation at Main Street and 7th Avenue. It was too tasty to be believed.

Each weekday morning, making my way to Starbucks for a grande Americano is part of my routine. I always go to the same location because they know me by name, face and drink. A few years back, Starbucks launched “The Way I See It;” quotes from people famous (and not) are printed on the side of each and every cup. What’s most intriguing is that nine times out of 10, I get the same cup. It almost never fails. This has gone on for months now. I think Starbucks is trying to tell me something.

Photo: powerbooktrance on Flickr

“In a world where celebrity equals talent, and where make-believe is called reality, it is most important to have real love, truth and stability in your life.” – Bernie Brillstein, Film and Television Producer

There it is in black and white. The latter part of what Mr. Brillstein shared is, in my opinion, the meat of what he said. When taking a moment to consider what truly matters in these short lives we live, the conclusions we reach include the things we can’t touch or breathe in, taste or smell. And though we can’t see love, truth or stability, when they’re present, they’re felt stronger than any physical sensation.

Real Love

I am not sure there is a word in which the meaning is watered-down, often blasé and altogether convoluted as love. We “love” our spouses and we “love” our morning coffees. We “love” our family and friends and we “love” the new stilettos sitting in the closet. Too often, love is now an expression of currently-felt emotion rather than a constant in one’s life.

Real love is not an emotion or a way in which we feel about someone or something. Real love should, ideally, be a rock-solid principle on which we base our lives. Real love should be endless, relentless, unchanging and perpetual. Real love should not be based on feeling happy or feeling sad. Real love is a choice, often a hard one to make. Real love sometimes means being the bigger person; sometimes it means eating a tremendous slice of humble pie.

Truth

As my age inches closer and closer to 30 (which, true, I know is still considered “young”), I am reminded by the landmark ages to follow: 40, 50, 60 and beyond. What I am most grateful for is the experience that comes with age. The adage that “the older you get, the wiser you are” can ring true if you allow it to. One thing that I have learned for certain is that there are few people in life whom you can whole-heartedly trust. To trust is to place your faith, confidence and reliance in someone.

And while no matter who you trust, no one can guarantee that they won’t let you down at one point or another. It is intention and integrity that matter most in this regard. In all actuality, aside from my mom, aunt and brother (who mean more to me than they can fathom), the number of people in my life that I trust beyond a shadow of a doubt is minute. However, having even only one person in your life that you can trust makes you very fortunate indeed.

Stability

Stability and consistency are two separate concepts. Most people prefer an existence filled with spontaneity and surprises, void of routine. Then there are those, like myself, who prefer consistency and routine. Everyone, however, needs stability.

Life is full of surprises, both positive and negative. Much of what we experience is beyond our control and sometimes even defies our understanding. Events and circumstances arise that can cause both joy and pain in the same breath. It’s the stability of love and support that gives us the strength we ultimately require to handle the curveballs our days throw.

No man or woman is infallible. Not one of us is entirely independent and autonomously strong. And really, why would anyone desire to experience life without those rare souls in our lives – our rocks – to share it with?

Final Thoughts

Sometimes I struggle in that friendships of the past which were once flourishing in their circumstances are no longer in the same place; however, I don’t struggle in the way you might imagine. The ability to reconcile the reality of fact is a gift. Life changes, situations evolve, people move, friends get married. As we move through our days, we meet new friends and lose touch with old ones. The love I have for friends in which I was hugely invested in years ago hasn’t changed in the slightest. Though time spent with them is now incredibly minimal, the ways in which I love and cherish them is not. Unfortunately, some people have a much harder time letting go of what once was and living in today. Truth be told, this causes me a certain level of guilt when it really shouldn’t. It’s what happens in the ebbs and flows of life.

I am blessed in more ways than I tend to realize. Ten years ago, my circle was vast. Today, my circle is small and within my immediate space. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I have three incredible family members. I have a dog whose loving gaze and licky tongue chases away the blues. I have a best friend who accepts me for who I am: the good, the bad and the hideously ugly skeletons. I have a handful of girlfriends who kick my ass when I need it and lend me their ears and shoulders when I need them. These people show me integrity, strength, love, humility and honesty. These are crucial when you live in a city fueled by narcissism, materialism, parties, designer labels and a dog-eat-dog mentality.

Real love, truth and stability. What more does anyone really need?

If there’s one thing you can never have too much of, and one thing I don’t get enough of, it’s hugs. I made this statement on Friday afternoon, en route to the ferry, to my friend Susan. In fact, one major selling point to going home to my mom’s so often is the fact that hugs are in abundance there. In a city that can often be cold in more ways than one, this girl doesn’t get nearly the number of hugs she needs.

Photo: Sarah606 on Flickr

Several years ago, I read a book by Gary Chapman titled ‘The Five Love Languages.’ In it, Mr. Chapman outlines what he believes are the fives ways in which people give and receive their feelings of love towards another. He concluded that everyone falls into at least one, most often two, and in some cases a bit of all five categories. After burning through the pages of his book, I came to the realization that my love languages are ‘Words Of Affirmation’ and ‘Physical Touch,’ the latter being my primary language.

“Physical touch is very important. In a crisis situation, a hug can communicate an immense amount of love for that person. A person whose primary love language is physical touch would much rather have you hold them and be silent than offer any advice.”

It is that very reason that I love to give hugs to the people I love as much as I love to receive them. That being said, not receiving hugs or some sort of physical touch when needed is often self-internalized as rejection. However, don’t get me wrong; I am not writing this out of an experience of rejection. My reason for writing this is simply that I believe that, no matter a person’s love language, everyone could use more hugs.

Photo: Breathe Culture on Flickr

I’m most certainly not referring to the one-armed camp counselor hug, the awkward and frozen “three pats on the back and let me go” kind of hug or even the grab and squeeeeeeeeze to death. I believe more people should be less afraid to wrap their arms around someone, to show them that they care and not just through an e-mail or through words. A warm hug to a wounded soul is like chicken soup and 80s movies to the flu. Sometimes it’s just what the doctor ordered, and even better when it’s unexpectedly on the menu.

Let’s start a hugging revolution. Who’s with me?