Taking on the Pole

In a waiting room, ten minutes to spare, all I had for entertainment was a stack of old magazines. Always fun for a quick flip through, you never know what you’ll learn. With a familiar selection to choose from, I decided to dive into a fitness magazine…and check out the latest trend in the workout world. There it was, glimmering at me from the middle of the glossy, an article on pole dancing.

That’s right pole dancing. Apparently, it’s quite the buzz all over the continent. Hollywood is doing it, Vancouver is doing it, heck, even Oprah, is doing it. Don’t we live in a country where “strip” dancing is kept behind closed doors? Since when did it become mainstream? Apparently, according to Aradia Fitness, who has brought pole dancing to Kelowna, it is evolving as non-traditional exercise. A way for women to explore their sexy side.

So, I guess this is one of those trends that once I found out about it, I realized I was one of the few people still in the dark. I asked some other women, if they had heard of it before, and, to my surprise, it was quite common. Raegan Hall of Blonde confessed she is half way through her “level one”. Level one pole. Never imagined I would hear those words in a sentence, but there it was, right in front of me, and before I knew it, I was recruited. I agreed to try out an intro class, just to taste the experience.

It was refreshing to see the range of women who came to introduce themselves to the pole. All ages. All shapes. All different reasons for coming. The class demonstrated moves and techniques; the idea was to get comfortable with your body, build your core, and take on the pole. I had seen some professionals pole dance before, and I respect the strength it takes to dangle, slide, swing and maneuver around the metal post. I just never really pictured, me doing it.

After class, I asked some of the ladies, what it was about this phenomenon that was so interesting to them. One woman, said, she wanted to know what it felt like to move in that “sexy” way, in a safe space. Another woman said, she was tired of the same old fitness routine, and thought it would be fun to learn something different. Raegan said, if anything, it made her feel empowered as a woman.

For me personally, I am a little mixed on the whole pole-dancing thing. Originally, I went to see what the vibe was all about. But underneath, I also hoped it would teach me how to release inhibitions and exude a wicked confidence. Unleash my “sexy goddess” from within. Or something like that. But, in all honesty, I realized I don’t need a pole to feel sexy. And although I fully respect women who choose this way to express themselves, “sexiness” is totally subjective. It’s not about “walking like a stripper”, or “running hands through your hair” (although, I agree both of those things can be sexy), it’s about being comfortable with yourself in everything you do. In the everyday things, like the way you smile, or the way you laugh, or how you care for and love your friends and family. It’s how you feel about you. Express that, in powerful confidence…and that, my friend, is sexy.

That was my take on it, but for those of you who are intrigued by the pole, check out Acadia Fitness in Kelowna, www.acadiafitness.com.

© Desiree Daniel July 29, 2005

A Visionary who Redesigns

Sometimes others can see what you don’t. For me, it came to a front in my own home. I’d enter my place, only to look at the same things, everyday. Pictures on the wall, sentiments on the shelf. Day after day, same, same. When my energy started to decline, I began my usual life analysis hoping to uncover the missing link.

Turned out, I was jut plain bored with my apartment and wanted a change. As a writer, my home is… well, a page waiting for words. My space needs to inspire me. I loved the pieces in my house - I have fabulous art, classic photos, and bold furniture. But, the layout wasn’t doing it for me. Even though I tried feng shui, the energy was just not flowing and it just wasn’t stimulating my mind anymore. How does a writer get creative when her environment isn’t?

Funny how the universe responds the moment it hears you have a need. After I realized my home was a big ol’ snoozer to me, I met Barbara Katnich. It was a meeting of fate, since I was MCing an event she happened to be attending. I soon learned her business, Visionary Redesign. “Creating the room you always wanted, by using what you already have”, were her words to me. A certified, accredited, staging professional, this woman transforms people’s homes – with their own goodies. She said she would give my apartment a “face-lift”.

Ok, sure. Although I couldn’t for the life of me imagine what else there was to do with it. But I opened my mind, and let the expert work her talent. She came by while I was at work, promising a new oasis, a utopia, to return to. Let me say, I was so anxious to see what she had done that I forfeited my Friday night plans just to get home ad see the finished product.

Speechless. It took me a moment. Blinked in the atmosphere. Somehow, this woman captured my spirit and showcased it in my home. I didn’t recognize my place, and yet…it definitely reflected…me. It wasn’t a drastic change, but the subtleties made a definite impact. Little things, like colour coding my books, angling my table, shifting my shelves…She tightened up the loose ends, and showed me another way to express myself. As if she had a scavenger hunt in my home, she highlighted pieces that I forgot I even owned. It’s amazing…how I didn’t even recall some of the objects that were now, the featured throughout my house.

It was so special. I actually spent the rest of the night, hanging out in my “new” home, sipping wine, and reconnecting with the things that made me…me. Rejuvenated. When you finally surrender to an outside force, one that can help you “see the light”, you may be very surprised with what you see. I feel privileged that this woman took the time for me; she really “got me”. In fact, it’s possible; she was able to display a piece of me that I wasn’t even able to see. Thanks Barbara! I love going home, now, and best of all…I can finally write again.
If you want a visionary to redesign your home, take a look at Barbara Katnich’s work. Please refer to her beautiful site www.visionaryredesign.com.

© Desiree Daniel August 11, 2005

Cleaning the Gender Divide

The gender divide is an interesting one. Even when I make a conscious effort to refrain from generalizing, something occurs to remind me once again, that men and women just do things differently. And it’s not even the “big stuff” it’s how we approach the little things, that somehow provide us each with a sense of purpose, like cleaning for example.

I had the opportunity to experience it in full affect during a night out with guests. Three women. Three men. BBQ. Within moments of arrival, the line between the two genders split like a Ginsu knife to a tomato. Guys took off to the patio outside, women congregated inside the kitchen. Guys talked about party stories, girls talked about cute outfits. A typical scenario we not only know well, but also expect. Thus, nothing really sparked my analysis sensors, until an incident occurred in the kitchen where us girls were chattin’.

My friend walked in, and just happen to spill his drink, from cup to floor, right in front of us. No big deal, but the event caused us to stop talking and pay attention. It wasn’t the spill, it was his reaction. Had he just reverted back to a seven year old? He looked at the puddle on the floor, then looked up at us, knowing that he should probably do something with it, but wasn’t too sure what. Seemed a little confused, nervous almost. Did he think he was going to get in trouble? Although, I am fairly certain if three women weren’t standing there, he would of left it. But since a sixth sense of the male kind, kicked in, he grabbed the cloth from the sink, tossed it on the floor, and swooshed it back and forth with his foot. Then, with a big smile on his face (proud of his hard work?) picked up the cloth with his toes, threw it back in the sink (to use for the next set of dishes?), and then headed back to the patio, with the rest of the boys.

Now, the three of us didn’t say a word, to him or to one another. We just watched. After he left, like clockwork, without uttering a sound, in a team effort – got the Tilex to scrub the spot out, took the used cloth from the sink, and put it in the laundry. I mean, as if we’d ever use it again on dishes once it had touched the floor. Of course for the guy, he was just impressed that he had the resource of the moment to fix the situation. Wasn’t too concerned on how that cloth would be used in the future, so log as it cleaned up his mess in the moment.

Within seconds, everything was cleaned to our satisfaction, and our conversation was back in rhythm without missing a beat. When we noticed our response, we started laughing. How strange it was, that all of us were familiar with the dishcloth foot wipe on the floor - return to sink -for reuse-motion, and furthermore, knew exactly how to respond to it. Apparently it’s a common method in the male world of cleaning. We uncovered that this was not an independent situation, and in fact brothers, fathers, and spouses, were known for the same action. But at least, now a day, men actually make an attempt to remedy the mess, vs. leave it. Perhaps Venus and Mars are evolving. Guys now know…they do need to help in cleaning. And women, well, we just know, even when they help out, we’ll redo it the way we like anyway.
© Desiree Daniel August 19, 2005

Things Aren't Always As They Seem

With only a few days left of summer, I realized it was time to absorb every last drop sunshine. Yes, to suck in the heat, before turtlenecks replace tank tops, and boots take over thongs. The mission? To sit at the pool, and read all day long. I’ve had this plan before, but failed to execute it – weekend errands got in the way. So, the key was to find a book that would lock me in and not let me out.

The Da Vinci Code. It had been staring at me since Christmas, when Santa delivered it. Even with all the hype, including a movie in the makes, I still needed to flip the first page. But with a blank weekend, a secluded pool, and a concentrated sun, there were no excuses but to just, well, dive in.

Sixteen hours later, cover to cover, I finished it. Wow. A fiction book hasn’t hooked me like that in years. And perhaps, because of the detailed information, and theories that could prove true, it felt real. It made me pay attention, to a familiar history. But now, asked some questions, and made look with a new set of lenses.

Although the book itself offers it’s own interpretation of how our religious society evolved, it made me think, about the world around me. What if...things are not as they seem? What if there is more to every story? And furthermore, what if we really are all connected? There must be a message we are all here to learn, and share with one another.

I began to analyze the leaders of our generation, wondering, what information lies beneath every surface of existence. In the Da Vinci Code, Dan Brown “de codes” the work of Leonardo Da Vinci. Showing us an alternate view of his art. In his time, he was a leader of the arts, who had a strong belief system. According of Brown, part of his brilliance, was to secretly share knowledge, through art. Those who paid close attention, could see, there was more than what meets the eye.

Controversial, yes. But sometimes it takes fiction, to entice people to break out of their bubble and ask questions that matter. Sometimes, it takes an interesting story, to broaden a consciousness and see - things aren’t always, as they seem. I by no means am a historian or symbolist to asses how accurate Dan Brown’s information is. I am sure there are many levels to his tale. But, no doubt, the guy did intensive research to make this book a success. There has to be some reality to his findings, in order to make it believable. Now, The Da Vinci Code becomes a conversation of it’s own. We, challenge our beliefs, we question our past. We look at our ancestors and wonder where they really came from. Whether you are looking for a greater truth, a topic to research, or a mystery to solve, this story is fun and intriguing. It keeps the mind moving, breaks you out of the ordinary and to remind you to always look beyond the surface. And, (of course) it’s a great reason to ignore mundane responsibilities just to sit out at the pool all day.
© Desiree Daniel August 26, 2005

Coffee Lingo

Coffee lingo. This topic continues to amaze me. I wrote about the phenomena of coffee trends in the past, but a recent trip to a local café inspired me to go deeper into the actual verbage of coffee. I do believe, next to English, it is the most common “second language” for people to learn.

My coworker and I went for an afternoon “jolt”. He, “coffee black” guy, me, a “what’s the trend” girl. We were standing in line looking at the chalkboard of flavours. Hmmm, what should I get…so many different options to choose? I knew he was laughing at me, since I seem to always look for something totally different to try out. And he, well, he is always…same same. I contemplated my craving, he observed, as I made the way to the till.

“Can I have a tall, soy, latte, with the matcha powder, but no sugar, and no foam?” My coffee buddy looked at me blankly…he didn’t know what I was talking about. Of course, the barista did, and in one swift breath had the cup prepped and repeated my request effortlessly, “One tall, soy, no foam, no sugar, matcha latte.”

When it was his turn to order, he was still a little dazed…trying to figure out what matcha was. I am sure he thought I was half nuts, since there wasn’t one “real” word in there that made any kind of normal sense. Shaking his head, he looked at our server and said, “Just a coffee please.”

Crickets. Silence. Everything stopped. I think I heard someone in the back corner gasp in disbelief. Just a coffee? What the heck is that? The barista looked at him, “Did you want medium or dark? House or americno? Decaf or reg? Tall or grande? To the rim or room for cream?”

Seems his “simple” order wasn’t so simple after all. And it was at that moment; I realized how coffee talk has evolved into an actual language. We laughed at the irony; it is really no longer “just” coffee, is it? Especially when someone can say words like “double double” and know that they’re not talking about bubble gum. I thought back to my days backpacking in Europe, flipping through translation dictionaries, hoping to the almighty that I wouldn’t look like a fool not knowing the language. Little did I know, we’d one-day battle a similar fate in our own country, over a little cuppa java.

© Desiree Daniel August 4, 2005