Tag Archives: yoga

I write to you now as the dog of the family, Signor Albussio.

 You may call me, Albus. It has become apparent to me that writing this is taking too long. I will take it upon myself to finish it for ‘My Lady on Wheels,’ who you know as Rita. While we wait for the next visitor, whom I will greet enthusiastically at the door and who will arrive mostly to pet me and adore me, I will add a few thoughts…

My responsibility as supervisor of the goings-on at my home for my  human bipedal family remain constant and true. Why yesterday, a female human with strong, sure hands arrived at the house. She helped ‘My Lady on Wheels’ to move her legs and arms, back and forth. I sat close by, licking ‘My Lady’s’ left knee, as is my duty. The therapist was unkind. She enticed me off to ‘my chair’ (also known as a box of files), gave me a treat and then moved the tub that gives me access to ‘My Lady’s’ side. I had to stand on my back paws, press my forepaws to the giant cushion to gaze at My Lady and continue the supervision. I grumbled and was displeased.

I notice since the therapist arrived and booted me from my place, My Lady moves more easily. She has regained her perch on wheels. My Lady has been tired of late. Previously this last week, she sat upon a much smaller, more awkward perch with two large wheels and two very small wheels. She used her arms to move the large wheels to get around the house. She was tired, I could tell and had not any time to play. The odour of this wheeled perch was offensive to my nostrils. I did not recognize this acrid and musty smell, but I heard the word ‘cigarette’ and the word ‘smoke’.

My lady rises early today, feeling refreshed from yesterday, no doubt. The movement and chatter coming from the two females during the therapist’s visit seems to revive ‘My Lady on Wheels’. I continue to rest in the sun, at least until a noise alerts me to the front door or my lady calls for my help. If the great wailing begins on the street, I will do my duty to alert my humans of this wailing melancholy. 

with the greatest affection and the finest respect,


Imagination Is Power

Things are not as they appear. I am not sitting on a wheelchair, but a throne. The dining-room table is a gathering place and that futon couch, when open is a big flat yoga mat. And so, I park my Power Chair by that flat futon and grab my walker. I pull myself up and do some standing exercises. Seated on the edge of the futon, I’m ready to go down and the music starts. Grabbing my left leg, I roll backwards as if going on a dive with an oxygen tank on my back. I am diving off the side of a boat, while The Clash Rocks the Casbah. Music is a part of my yoga routine and I play it loud. On my back and knees up, the flat of my feet pressing down on the futon. Waves of Hey Rosetta splash over me. Swinging knees to the left, I loosen my lower spine. Swing knees to the right and breathe in deep with Jenn Grant.  Pull one knee into my chest and extend the other. Switch to The Weakerthans. When Billy Bragg calls, I’ll stretch my arms long over my head and stretch my toes in the opposite direction.  And wish I had a river to skate away on as I turn onto my stomach and stretch again. Rest my head on my hands, I breathe in and exhale. I smile with pleasure, because movement mixed with music is like swimming.  Position myself in a cobra, while ‘The Decemberists sing to make me better. Lie flat and breathe deeply, as if floating downstream, because Tomorrow Never Knows.

Photo credit: A detail of a cathedral, Il Duomo in Milan, Italy, taken by Rita Kindl Myers (1993).

My Own Marathon


My hands grip my walker. I’m standing beside my parked car, as traffic rushes past me. I’m going to a Very Friendly Commercial Establishment. Balancing my weight on my right foot, I lift the left foot forward. I squeeze the brakes of my walker, and put my weight on the left foot to move the right. Inching walker forward. Then, lean on the right, and drag the left forward. 

 Just reading about this is exhausting. Yet, I don’t think of this “pretend walking” as torture.

What I do is a willful meditation in slow movement. I take my mind to a place similar to a yoga flow. I concentrate on each movement. When I square the wheels of my walker to the ramp of the sidewalk and slowly amble away from street traffic. Relief. I’m up on the sidewalk! I smile, wanting to celebrate my arrival. Turning the walker towards the entrance, that is 3 metres away, I realize I’m still not there. I wonder: “how much longer will I be able to move like this?” Push that thought aside and plow forward slowly. I know when I get there, I will be met by smiling faces.

Recently, Halifax hosted the Bluenose Marathon.  When I took a look at the route of the 40k marathon, I exclaimed, “ That looks crazy!” Who would chose such a struggle?


Lego stills and photography by Carlo Myers.