Atlantis: A Retelling of Day 2 on the Camino de Santiago

Atlantis: A Retelling of Day 2 on the Camino

The early morning sky was overcast and grey, giving the monastery in Roncesvalles a bluish tinge.  The sun has only barely begun making it’s accent into the sky, the only light came from the few strategically placed lamps placed with in the stone courtyard.

I shuffled slowly across the gravel yard, willing my sore muscles to move against the chill of the morning.  Pausing on a bench, I retrieved my toque and gloves from my backpack.  Carefully, I swung the lighter-than-yesterday bag to my back, breathing a sigh of half relief.

Part of the reason I was in so much pain this morning was because I carried too much weight with me over the 25km hike across the Pryrenes yesterday.  A few moments ago, I stopped at the donation table in the main foyer of the monastery, leaving behind a brand new pair of boots and a bag full of items that would not be making the journey across Spain with me.  A pang of guilt and shame accompanied me as I discarded the items.  Why did I even buy those boots in the first place?  I didn’t need them, my current hiking shoes are more than capable of doing the job.  That’s 50 euros I will certainly never get back.

Continuing my slow crawl towards the path that would lead my fellow pilgrims and I to Larassoana, the sky began to brighten.  Many pilgrims were well on their way, chatting cheerfully offering each other words of good morning to their peers.

“Guten morgen.”

“Buenos dias.”

“Good morning.”

“Bonne matin.”

I feigned my own cheerfulness.  Did these other pilgrims not feel as awful as I did?  Or were they just much better at hiding it?  I pushed on, breathing deeply and rhythmically as I struggled to put one foot in front of another, passing the Camino-famous, obnoxiously large, white road sign stating “Santiago de Compestela 790km.”  Placed there as if to mock me.

Day 2!

Day 2!

Today was only Day 2 on my journey along the Camino de Santiago and I was already struggling. The Camino had begun teaching me it’s lessons.  Although extremely fit, I had taken to moving too fast on the hike over the mountains yesterday.  My ego ablaze, I flaunted my youth and fitness level, barely stopping all day and arriving to our end destination much earlier than most pilgrims.  Combined this with a restless and uncomfortable sleep, boy, was I paying for it today!   This was to be my very first and blazingly obvious lesson of the Camino:  SLOW DOWN, IT’S NOT A RACE!  Which can be translated to: IT’S ABOUT THE JOURNEY, NOT THE DESTINATION.

And slow down I did, not by choice mind you.  I made my snail like crawl through the forest, chatting begrudgingly with older passing pilgrims.  They gave a little chuckle my way as they past.  There was no sympathy from anyone.

Often I was left alone, as I moved too slow for the other pilgrim’s pace.  It was me, the Spanish country side, the Camino and the sound of my shoes crunching on the rugged, gravel path.  Alone with my thoughts, I let my mind wander.  First to the obvious issue at hand, my haggard body.  Each laboured step as difficult as the next.  My hip flexors flared with every stride, the knots in my glutes absorbing every impact my feet made, tying that knot tighter and tighter.  My shins screamed at my calves and my lower back complained over and over about the weight on my back.  I was a mess.  I felt like a grey, decomposing zombie, moaning and groaning, as I staggered across some post apocalyptic landscape.  Only, this wasn’t post apocalyptic!  This was rural Spain and it was beautiful.  I should really pay attention!

Only the second day into my 800 km journey and I was already beginning to see why some pilgrims didn’t make it to Santiago.  Unwilling to admit my fear that I may be one of those people, I swallowed my terror and kept walking.  Slowly.  Dropping one foot in front of the other.  My only hope that the lactic acid pooling in my muscles would soon filter out as my blood circulated.  Today’s walk was 27 km, I had much further to go yet.

The landscape changed as the morning wore on.  The dense forests gave way to tiny villages into rolling foothills and dense tree covered hills.  In the villages, I stopped and lunched with my new pilgrim friends, making new friendships that would stand the test of the Camino.

20130831-184909.jpg     20130831-185031.jpg


Talking with other pilgrims distracted me form my physical agony.  We chatted about the already apparent magic of the Camino, and the mysteries yet to come.  Although, the most jarring and frequent question we all seemed to ask was “Why are you here?”  because it was apparent nobody is called to the Camino with out a reason.

The conversation usually started like this:

“Hola!  Buen Camino!”

“Buen Camino!  Where are you from?”

“Canada.  And yourself?”

“[Enter Country Here].  Why are you here?”

Answers ranged from “I saw it in a movie.” “My friend invited me.” “The Camino called me.” to “I have been planning this trip for years.” And more.

Everyone had a perfect good explanation of why they were here and I was most stricken at how these, basically strangers, were so accepting of all of our various answers.  Everyone listened intently while I explained my own story.  Usually beginning with me saying “I’m lost” followed by a long in-depth conversation about life, finishing off with “I hope you find what you are looking for.  Buen Camino.”

In moments solitude, rhythmically marching across the rocky terrain, I reflected on the conversations I had just had and the circumstances that had brought me here to Spain.

I am very much at a cross roads in my life.  It was as if I suddenly woke up one day last year and realized that I was at a complete loss for what my life had become.  I have no idea who I am, what I want or need or love.  And this terrifies me!

Then the Camino called me, I answered.  Some months later, I’m in excruciating pain as I attempt to walk across Northern Spain on a mystical adventure to find…something.

The Camino above all things is a spiritual journey.  I am not a religious person, never have been but I seem to be in a constant battle with myself and nourishing my soul/spirit is a very new concept to me.  I have been, for all of my life, firmly athiest.  This new found openness is a strange and hard thing to admit publicly.  Spirituality has never been something I had even considered before, my roots being firmly in science.  But the bottom line is, I am struggling with something right now and it’s something science can’t explain for me.

My life lacks any meaning, and I just kept repeating the same miserable cycle over and over again.  For 25 years, I have worked my ass off to be at the top of my field and for the past decade, I have worked tirelessly to build a viable career as a working professional only to be met with battle after battle after battle.  My opponent?  Nine times out of ten, it’s myself.  I’m tired of it.  Who am I?  Acrobat?  Stunt Woman?  Actor?  Teacher? Dancer? Baton Twirler?  I wear so many hats, I don’t even know which one fits me anymore.  My body, after 25 years of overuse and abuse, is sore and fatigued.  My self esteem, self worth, anxieties, direction, dreams all live in a messy puddle on the floor at my feet.  I don’t even know how to begin cleaning them up.

Around me, I have build an impenetrable wall of toughness, a survival instinct, that very few have ever been able to break though to see what’s on the other side.  Truth is, I don’t even know and I am petrified to find out.  Instead, I bury myself in my work because it is the only life I have ever known.  Safe in my misery, I rely on my skills and achievements for my self worth and identity.

What does it all mean?  What is the point of doing this work if you are just sad and over worked?

What does it mean if you have nobody to share it with?

Somewhere along the line, I fell out of love with my work. I have become bitter, angry, uninspired and lost. While usually very goal orientated and motivated, all of a sudden I find myself questioning who I am and what I want from my life.

In reality, I have no idea. All I have ever done is train and perform. Really. Since I was 5. I have never even considered doing anything else because I have always felt I had something to prove.

Prove what? And to whom?!  Have I just been living out some old unhealed wound this entire time?  Has my career meant nothing?  It must not because when I look back at my career or at the long list of my resume, I don’t feel happy or satisfied.  Instead, I am trapped in a world of ‘not good enough’ and complete failure.  Was the past 10 years of my life a waste?

I honestly don’t know the answer right now.  Which if the exact reason I am here, alone on the Camino.  I need to find some answers, any answers because I cannot/will not live my life like this anymore.

Who am I? What do I need? What do I want? Where am I going? What and who do I love? What a terrifying thought it is when your only answer is ‘I have no idea!’

I need some guidance.  I don’t know what answers the Camino will bring me but I do know they are out there.  I only have to listen and search deep within myself to find them.

I come across a sign reading “Zubiri 13.1 km” which snaps me out of my intense inner monologue.  Sitting down for a moments rest on a large  boulder, I take a moment to breathe.  I am only half way through my walk today and I might need a little extra motivation to help me reach my end destination.  Removing my pack, I dig deep into a side pocket of my bag to retrieve my ear buds.  I think it may be time for some music.  Not wanting to disconnect myself from my surroundings, I made a deal when I left home that I would only listen to music on my iPod when absolutely necessary and only in short 1 hour blocks.  I didn’t need it yesterday, the hike across the mountains was entertaining enough.


Today, I definitely need some musical motivation.

I stood, gathered my gear onto my back and popped my ear buds into place.  Opening the music app on my phone, I press shuffle.

To my complete surprise, shock, slight horror and amazement, this spoken word poem by BC poet, Shane Koyczan was the first song that played.  It would remain at the top of my Camino play list as a comforting assurance that I was not alone in my search…

Atlantis by Shane Koyczan

Your entire body shakes you when laugh,
As if your sense of humour was built on a fault line
And the coast of your heart falls into the ocean of yourself
And I’m left looking for this Atlantis. more Left looking for this place
That exists in the stories told by old men,
Who were there when mathematics assured them.
Their willingness to believe
Was greater than their determination to dismiss
I’m left looking for Atlantis.

Regardless of the scientist that insists
My efforts would be better spent
Unearthing clues to where the wild things went.

Try as it might,
Faith can’t put a dent fact.
So we must settle for science re-enact the world,
As if the universe was curled around this globe.

And if we consider that the universe is never ending
Then we’re not even a microbe.
We’re like a death threat from a pacifist,
We’re nothing.

But the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle states that:
“Nothing is fo’ shizzle”.
And the interesting thing about that
Is that it ensures that the principle itself can’t even be a fact.

But we still act as though
This time we can see the forest through the trees.
Regardless of the soft wood lumber levies,
We fall in line like reforested pine.

It’s all straight rows
Were everything grows a little less wild,
A little more humdrum,
Ho, hum.

We come from the mentality
That rarely sees the horror in symmetry
Or the beauty in non-conformity.
We insist that for us,
Everything must be clear cut.

But what about philosophy?
What about the tree that fell in the forest
That no one was around to hear?
It’s a little less clear,
A little more deep.

Deep like,
If Oprah Winfrey farts in a bathtub
And no bubbles come to the surface,
Is there an alternate universe
Where the price of gas is cheap?

But we can’t prove it,
Any more than we can prove
That light can move fast enough
To stop a monster hiding in the closet.

We deposit our faith in fear
But clear our minds to the possibility that
Maybe we as adults,
Secretly sometimes still get scared of the dark.
Things that go bump in the night.

And I can’t prove that I’ve ever loved anyone,
But despite the smoking
And the overweight body
I want to grow old with you.
Go through muscle and joint pains
To the point that every time it rains
We can feel it in our knees.

Get arthritis so bad,
That every time we move
We sound like two bowls of Rice Krispies.
We’re all “Snap, Crackle and pop”

But we still take the time to stop,
And take the time.

I’m looking for Atlantis.
Letting faith turn this fiction into fact
As if I tracked this missing continent for decades,
And all I know so far
Is that it is somewhere under water.

I’m looking for clues in the most blurry photos of UFOs
And thinking,
If aliens are so smart,
Then why don’t they start making their spaceships look like airplanes?
That way we’d just point to the sky and say:
“An airplane, how common place and not at all suspect.”

We’re all shipwrecked on this idea
That everything has to be explained.
But maybe we just need to believe
That lemmings jump off cliffs to prove that they love us.

And sure,
That sacrifice is as empty as the box of condoms
That politicians used when they thought they could fuck us.

But it is nice to believe that somebody up there
Cares enough to plummet onto jagged, back-breaking rocks
In an attempt to tells us,
We’re beautiful.

Tell us that as far as life goes,
Our finger prints are like snowflakes.
We leave them on everything
But they melt in the time it takes to touch someone’s tongue.
But if we’re lucky,
Maybe we’re remembered
Along with the sunken cities of a lost continent.

This is for each child
Who is a monument to the one’s who came before.
Maybe the best we can hope for
Is that those we leave behind find comfort in knowing
That we’re born out of love,
And not science.

That biology explains the how,
Love explains the why,
So in the event of our deaths
We hereby bequeath all of these words to you.

And they are only meant to say that
Uncertainty is something everyone goes through.
And there is not much in the way of proof
But believe me, we loved you.

We held our breaths for your first step,
Your first word.
We laughed when it finally occurred to you,
Lemons are sour.

This is for every time
Love becomes the finest minute and the darkest hour.

This if for those who scour the streets
Wondering where the wild things went.
For the believers who leant us their madness.
This is for everyone we miss.
And this is for the children who were lost.

Sadness is nothing more than the cost of being able to smile
Once in a while.
And grief is the trial we stand to offer evidence
That your finger prints were left on our hearts
And our skin,
And in terms of proof,
Love can be demonstrated in giving.
Our lives consist of the efforts we give
In swimming towards the lost continent
Where you are rumoured to be living.

Later on that day, I would bawl my eyes out as I painfully descended a sharp decline into Zubiri, where I would eventually stay the night, 5 km short of my intended destination.  Here I would dine happily with some older pilgrims before passing out promptly at 8pm, not awaking until 6am the following morning.

This is my pain face.

This is my pain face.

My Camino, which lasted 33 days, offered me some of the most amazing and clear moments of my life.  The lessons I learned even in the early days of it when I still hadn’t discovered it’s true magic, are still with me today.  Even 2 years later, I have ‘Aha!’ moments when some small shard of information I learned in Spain becomes abundantly clear to me.

Day 2 of my walk was not the only day I cried, struggled or battled on the Camino.   There would be many more days like this one.  Days when I would not speak with anyone for 30km, or days when my heart cried out in acute loneliness, or screamed at the hills laced with crosses as I past in my own frustration to understand what they meant.  There were days when I battled my own ego, actually, I could say my entire Camino was 90% about letting go of my ego.  There were days when I was so full of joy, clarity and peace that I thought I would never leave and live as a pilgrim forever.  (#futuregoals)

I received my answers in many indirect and subtle ways.  Clues that would take months, years or even decades to interpret.  Clarity is one of the most significant things I came away with on my Camino.  And love…the most blazingly obvious.

Love begins with loving myself.  Something I am working hard at to this day.    Finally understanding that love is the answer.

Day 21

Day 21

For further reading, here is a post I wrote a few weeks into the Camino while struggling with the very concept of loving myself.  It is amazing to me when I reread these posts because I realize how much I have grown since this experience.  I do not want to even imagine where I would be right now if I hadn’t abruptly halted my life to take this curtail time out.

On Love… Sept, 6, 2013



Thoughts on Skydiving

Despite what one might assume from my chosen career path, I have never had an desire to go skydiving.  Now, I never said that I wouldn’t jump out of an airplane, it is simply not on my bucket list of things to do.

Here is a list of reasons why:

  • Not a big fan of extreme heights.
  • Seems unnecessarily dangerous and reckless.
  • Why?  Why in the world would you jump out of an airplane?!?
  • It’s scary as fuck!
  • Not my kind of thrilling adventure.  (I fancy myself an explorer, discovering the mysterious world around us.  For example, locating the long lost treasure of the ancient Cat People on the island of Catopia!  Now, that is an adventure!  Or I could walk across Spain…whatever works.)

Jumping face first out of an airplane though?  That’s crazy.  Who would do that?

Apparently, me.

Skydiving, remained an event that would be taken under consideration should the opportunity arose.  One such opportunity did arise recently by way of my bestest friend, former teammate/pairs partner and Bride-to-be, Hollie.

As an extension of her stagette, Hollie kindly invited her ladies to partake in skydiving with her; something that has been on her Bucket List.   Relayed by her sister and Mistress of Honour, a Facebook invite was issued:

Who wants to go skydiving with Hollie on the Sunday after the party?

$295 for a tandem jump. No experience required.

Michelle Christa Smith???


My immediate reaction to seeing my name tagged specifically in the post was one of nausea.

The silence of the other girls and their general assumption that Michelle, stunt woman and acrobat, would totally be into that sort of thing, meant that I would indeed be the one who would be going on this adventure with Hollie.  And really, despite the peer pressure, I would never leave my friend hanging like that.  I don’t particularly want to potentially plummet to my death from an airplane but for you, Hollie, I will do anything.

Plus, what kind of professional would I be if I turned down skydiving because I was too afraid to go?

Seriously, I would never be able to show my face in any circle again!

So, I agreed, said “yes” and hoped for the best.  Hollie’s obvious joy and excitement well worth my personal unease.  So it was settled, Hollie and Michelle would jump out of an airplane the following afternoon of her stagette.

Oh god, this unfortunate feeling of dread, I know all too well.  So gross.  It starts with an unstable quiver of adrenaline that spikes the heart rate and breathing ever so slightly, while the momentary sickliness of anticipation makes itself at home in you bones, where it would live until the task is complete.  The sensation recedes slightly as fear crawls back into it’s black cave, hungrily awaiting the next time I try really hard not to imagine myself plummeting to the earth.

I have friends who thrive on this feeling.  I suppose I do too, in a way, but this is just intense.  Bleh.

One thing I am confident is my ability to overcome my fear.  I am not ashamed to admit that much of the work I do scares me, and though not always enjoyable at times, I am always able to clear my mind, focus and get the job done.  One would assume the same principle applies to skydiving.

  • Accept what is about to happen.
  • Breath.
  • Clear you mind.
  • Breath again.
  • Go!

Don’t think, just do!

Ah Fuck!  What am I doing?  Who jumps out of airplanes?!


Breath again.

In the weeks leading up to the eventful stagette/skydiving weekend, I was quite happily able to forget about my perceived impending doom.  Even the night of the stagette, amid the wonderful drag shows, frisbee games with firemen and general shenanigans, I was able to put the event of the upcoming day out of my mind.  (The nice firemen might have helped too.)

It wasn’t until the exceedingly long 2 hours drive to Innisfail that the realization of what was to come really hit me.  Fear, had once again begun to show it’s ugly face.

First, the complete disbelief of what I was about to do.

“Is this really happening?  Are we really going to jump out of an airplane, for fun?”

Next, dread.

“FUUUUCK!  I am definitely jumping out of an airplane today.”

And then…what for it…oh, there it is…

The long, torturous, uncomfortable, creepy crawly sensation of anticipation, as it’s snake like tendrils, slowly slither their way up your bones and into your already alert nervous system.

Oh ya, that’s a good feeling.


Hollie and I chat, somewhat nervously, every now and again voicing our anxiety with an “Oh shit.” Or two.  And as much as we try to fight it, the skydiving destination grows closer and closer with every turn of my jeep’s wheel.

This is happening.  Better get ready to deal with it!

Eventually, and somewhat hesitantly, we turn down a rural, gravel road to arrive at Big Sky Skydive in Innisfail.  I find it comforting to see that this legitimate business is thriving meaning that people don’t generally die while falling from the sky here.


We enter, make our way through processing and find ourselves watching a movie, that I assumed would be about the safety procedures and process of you know, skydiving.  Instead, the video was a selling tool to get jumpers to buy photos and videos of their flight at an extra cost.  That was disappointing.

Of course I am going to get pictures and a video!  If I am going to cry, pee or poop my pants (or all of the above) during this experience, I sure as hell want footage of it!  Shut up and take my money.

And then we wait…

Fear bubbles in my belly…

Anxiety heightened, my body vibrates…

The dreaded anticipation…

Fuck me.  This is happening.

“Oh shit.”  We say.

Two loads of jumpers are waiting to go ahead of us.  As the first group is suited up and directed to the pale blue picnic table, atop a small flat bed ready to take them to their plane, I wonder if they are as nervous as I am?

Probably even more so, since they are now 20 minutes away from their own jumps.  Jesus.

I feel nauseas.  I could cry at any moment.  Someone needs to hold my hand here.  This is nuts.

The building adrenaline pumps extra energy into my body.  I need to move.  I spend the next hour and a half nervously chatting, swaying on my feet and/or pacing.  Nothing will alleviate this feeling for me.  Everything I do is a mere distraction at this point. There is a new sensation growing: curiosity.  Or is that excitement?  I can’t decide if that small curious flash of excitement is for the actual jump or if I am just excited to get it over with.  Either way, I can use this to my advantage and perhaps not pee myself.

The first group returns all in one piece, nobody died.  That’s a good sign.  The next load, a group of guys out for a jump on their buddy’s birthday begin making their way to the blue bench.

We’re next.  Shit.

In an attempt to calm myself, I watch the employees repack to recently used parachutes.  I am not sure this comforts me.  I suppose I have never really though about how those chutes get repacked and refolded.  What a stressful job that must be to have people’s lives so directly in your hands.

Pacing seems like the best option at this point.

Hollie, although I know she is terrified on her own account, is quite bubbly and obviously excited.  She is practically bursting at the seams!  While, I grow quite in my terror, Hollie seems to be getting more and more enthusiastic.  She has wanted to do this for a long time, so not completely unexpected.  Perhaps, this is her dealing with her fear as well.

The Birthday Boys finally return after what seems like hours, in actuality it was probably much closer to 40 minutes.  The completely shocked and amazed looks on their faces tell me that if the muggles can do it, than perhaps so can I.

“How was it?” Hollie and I inquire.

“So awesome!”

“Was it scary?”

“In the plane it was really scary but once you jump out it’s so cool!”

Hollie and I look to each other for support, mentally cheering each other on.  We can do this and it’s happening right now.

Oh crap, this is getting real.

We both pull on black canvas jumpsuits, gloves, goggles and are fitted for a harness, which I am strangely comforted by.  I’ve spent a LOT of time in a harness in my day, this is one part of this whole skydiving process that does make my skin crawl.

Our tandem diving partners, introduce themselves as Dave and Chris.  Each of them having just returned from both of the previous two dives.  What an interesting job that must be.

Dave, my partner, assures me that this jump is going to be an amazing experience.

“Let’s go for a dive!” As he slaps my back, gently nudging me toward the blue picnic table on the truck.

“Oh shit.” We say, again.

This is really fucking happening.

It’s ok, everything is going to be fine.


Breath again.

The picnic table lurches into movement as we are whisked away to our awaiting airplane.

Whatever sense of fear, dread and anxiety I was feeling earlier in the hanger has all but tripled now.  All I can do, in the name of survival, is quietly await my fate.  I will be jumping out of this airplane, now right in front of me, whatever happens will happen and there is no turning back.  What are you going to do about it?


Clear your mind.


Better make the most of it.

After a few pictures and a short interview for my video, in which I admit to Dave that I am “scared shitless.”  Hollie and I are instructed to board the plane where we will climb for about 20 minutes until we reach 12000 feet.  Lucky me, according to Dave, I get to sit in the cockpit passenger seat.

This is indeed lucky, because the multitude of dials and switches are the perfect way to distract myself while to small propeller plane crawls it’s way into the sky.

Oh man, if I thought I have experienced fear and adrenaline before, this would have been enough to make my head explode.  I often had to close my eyes to refocus my intense nervous energy from avoid the thoughts of worst case scenarios.   On the outside, I appeared calm, reserved and pensive while internally, my nervous system was having a field day sending tremors of electricity to every inch of my skin.  My heart thundered in my chest, threatening to explode outwards like a scene from Aliens.

This is fear.  Real fear.  Use it, accept it, acknowledge it and pass this test.

Breath.  Calm yourself with breathe.

Gone was the feeling of disbelief and present was now the adrenaline spiked acceptance about what was about to go down…me…out of an airplane.  Slow to seep in was that curiosity, what was this hair raising experience going to be like?

Dave taps me on the shoulder, we’re at 10000 feet, it’s time for me to leave the cockpit and assemble our harnesses together.  As I sit down beside Hollie, I wonder how she is doing because this is truly terrifying.  As if sensing my thought, she looks at me and smiles, albeit nervously but at least she’s happy.

“Two minutes to jump!”  The pilot yells over the intercom. The cabin bustles with movement as the solo drivers (crazy) prepare themselves.  Dave fills me in on the schedule, “those four up front will go out first.  They will be gone in a flash.  Your friend will go next and then we’ll be last.  Are you ready?”  All I can do is nod.  Hollie and I clasp hands for a brief moment.



And the cabin door flies open with a crash as the the deafening blast of air fills the plane!  As quickly as the door slams open, the solo divers are flying out of the opening and into the sky.  Dave nudges me from behind to move down the bench while Hollie and her partner prepare themselves on the edge of the door.

My body trembles violently as I inch my way forward, there is a resistance in my extremities that tries to fight against my movement towards the door, I have to close my eyes for a second to steady myself.  When I open them, I see Hollie for only a few seconds before she is gone.  Out the window.  Into the sky.  This is all happening so fast.

It’s my turn now.  Dave crossed my arms across my chest as he motions for me to take my seat on the edge of the plane, legs dangling in the wind.  I can barely move my entire structure is shaking so much, my limbs don’t obey as I try to make my way to the door.  My heart kicks it into high gear as my breathing becomes more rapid and shallow.  The sound of the air passing though the cabin is so deafening that I can no longer hear the calming words of reassurance i have had playing in my head for the past 4 hours.  I use my rebellious arms to lower myself onto my butt.  The cold air hitting me, waking me from my momentary nightmare.

Then a funny thing happened, I realized that I wasn’t as terrified as I thought I would be in this exact moment.  The nanosecond before the jump.  I am already here, the serene acceptance of it.  Sure my body was still experiencing the intense physiological symptoms of fear but mind was released.  In that nanosecond, I noticed many things:

My legs which are sticking out of the planes door and being dragged backwards by the wind, pulling me off onto a slight angle.  Interesting, I never thought of that.

My right shoe is untied.  Hope I don’t lose it.

The ground is very green.

The sky has cleared up.  It’s not as cloudy anymore.

Suddenly, my arms are crossed infant of my chest, head pulled back, Dave and I sway backwards once and then…

The cold rush of air hits my body as we dive head first out of the plane tumbling into a forward somersault.  The wind blasting up all around me, as we fall 210 km/hour towards the ground.  I feel the pressure of the air resisting me as we free fall.  Just as we begin to right ourselves, I catch a glimpse of the silver underbelly of the plane.  We stabilize and Dave taps my arms as an indication that I can open them up.

This is happening.  I jumped out of an airplane.  I did it!  As if there was ever any doubt I wouldn’t do it!

That momentary absence of any fear of thought was abruptly transformed into panic as we continued to fall and I realized that I could not find a way to breath as the wind crashed into my face, up my nose and into my mouth.    I can’t breath.

My actual worst nightmare.  Drowning.  Though, I never imagine I would be drowning in air.

For almost 50 seconds (what I perceived as eternity) I lay face down, falling from the sky, strapped to some dude, completely unable to breath while I choked on the air.

I should be looking around, enjoying the experience and scenery.

I can’t breath.

This is hell.

This is torture.

All I can do is turn my head side to side, searching for small gaps in the air flow that I can take a few breaths in and wait those long seconds for that parachute to open.

The wiz of a rope being pulled and a sharp crack, Dave and I are jolted upright from our free fall.  Our large, completely glorious green and white parachute blooms above us.

I always knew that thing would open.  Was there ever any question in my mind?!

I can finally breath.

Finally, I am able to look around and enjoy.  The blue, partly cloudy sky filters into grey as it reaches the vast fields of green and yellow stretch out all around us.  Linear outlines of roads and highways, create grid along the rural landscape.  Now, this part I enjoy!  Hang me in a harness any day, this one just happens to include a parachute.

“Do you want to steer?”  Dave inquires from behind.

As if that is even a question.

He hands me the yellow handles of the parachute and offers me instruction on how to make all sorts of turns.  Soon, Dave and I are spinning and twirling in the air as I dance with the parachute.  I laughed, I hooted, I hollered and I sure as hell had a shit eating grin on my face the entire time.

However, I can honestly say I was relieved when it can time to land.

As we gently slid in on our butts and came to a stop, I let out a long sign.

Hollie sliding in next to me.

We did it. We went skydiving. So glad it’s over.

My shaky legs, still feeling the affects of the huge shot of adrenaline, had me hobble over to Hollie as she burst up off the ground in pure glee!  We hugged, high fived, hugged again and remarked at how neither of us peed ourselves!

The adventure was deemed a success!

As for my curiosity, I can’t say I was overwhelmed by a sense of joy or ecstasy when I finally returned to the ground.  The experience was exhilarating for sure but mostly what I felt was relief that it was all over.  The scientist in me was completely fascinated with my body and mind’s reaction to the extreme circumstances.  The physiological and psychological stages at each step of the way will be evidence I will be computing for quite some time, I imagine.  Having gone through such an intense dousing of pure adrenaline, there will be many points in my upcoming work that I am sure the findings of this day will become applicable.  There was never any doubt in my mind that once committed to this that I wouldn’t go through with it.   That was simply not an option at any point.  Personally, the skydiving experience was simply a grand test of my ability to handle fear.  Did I pass?  Yes, definitely.  Would I go again? Please, no.

And let’s not forget that real reason I was there, to support my friend, Hollie.  Knowing that she got to cross one thing off that bucket list and loved it is enough for me.  She made the whole adventure worth it!

Now, about that hidden treasure on the island of Catopia…



On Possibility: Yes, You Can Have It All!


Part 1: On Possibility

I began 2015 flipping through discarded magazines during the construction of my annual vision board, searching for words and images that spoke to me in the moment.  While sorting through the heavy pile of glossy paper, I came upon a trashy woman’s lifestyle magazine.  Tantalizing words in bold letters laced the cover in bright shades of pink and yellow.  The beautiful woman on the front contorting her body into an awkward position so commonly used by supermodels, and claimed to have the secret to losing belly fat in 30 days.  Normally I have very little interest in such reads but as I was about to toss the magazine aside with out so much as opening it, six yellow words near the bottom of the page caught my attention.  It read “Yes, you can have it all!”

I wondered to myself, “Can I?”

And thus began the theme of my 2015.

Yes, I can have it all!

It’s interesting, when peering back into the past few years, I can see how the terrifyingly large adjustments I made in my priorities, have completely shifted my everyday life.  By making my own happiness, health, passions and self worth my top priority,  I have stepped into a new level of my own personal power.  All of my manifestations are coming to me at a surprisingly rapid pace.  Everyday, much like I did on the Camino, I find some old piece of unnecessary energy that I can chose to release and leave behind.  This process then creates more room for my thoughts and desires to coming speeding head first into my realm.  The syncronicities of my thoughts pop up at any moments, giving me cause to keep walk down this path of light and personal truth.

The thing is, I finally can comprehend my identity outside of my career.  Yes, I certainly identify with my work, it’s why I do what I do, but during these past 2 years of crucial self development and soul searching, I have come to know my myself for exactly who I am.

I have researched, experimented and observed many (not all) of the dark folds within my soul to find that I am very much intrigued and happy with who Michelle is, right now.  I understand my thoughts and actions with a a far better comprehension than I ever have before.  And although, this process of self discovery is never ending, my progress has excelled and lead me down the most beautiful path.  After the uphill battle waged against myself, I can finally find love, acceptance and value for myself.  And I am dawning on the appreciation and necessity in human connection.

A life is not a life when you simply focus on one area, in my case: work.  Balancing my personal career ambition with the inclusion of my family and friends has been a challenge but I see now that you cannot have one with out the other.  Learning to include others in my everyday life is what has brought me closer to my own inner peace.

Yes, you can have it all.

I finally understand. I am ambitious, my career will always be important to me BUT that career will never be what I believe it could be until I make working on my personal connections a priority.  I truly can have it all but I cannot have one with out the other.

Part 2: The Power of the Team

It’s no secret that my love and passion for stunts has waned in the past few years.  Physical pain aside (because it’s an unavoidable part of the job), the work I was getting was not only unfulfilling but also very emotionally hurtful.  (I am much more sensitive than I will ever show.)

In the past 2 years, I have been much less present in the stunt community.   However, I have left myself open to the possibility of work.  Upon returning from the Camino, I spent a good deal of time liberating myself from the expectation of booking any stunt days ever again.  Ironically, I work just as much now as I did when I was hustling my ass off only a few short years ago.

Having no expectations for any of the work happening in town, you can imagine my surprise when I receive a phone call one late March evening from an American coordinator looking to book me as one of the lead doubles in a big show filming here in Vancouver.  Within an hour of chatting with the coordinator, I was shaking hands with the director and being “welcomed to the team.”

In my current, ever-growing, awakening state, my only interpretation of a surprise as unexpected as booking this show, can only be one of privilege.  I was determined to bring to it as much curiosity, openness, grace and focus as possible.  Unexpectedly, the openness that I entered the work on Deadpool with, brought me a new understanding of how personal connection and teamwork plays a huge role in the experience one receives from any situation, whether it be good or bad.

I have obviously worked on movies and tv shows before, but I can honestly never recall being welcomed to “the team.”  Perhaps this is because of my own barriers I carry within myself or perhaps I was never actually part of said ‘team.’  However, with this show it was evident from the start that I was an important piece of the creative puzzle.

This is where I thrive, after 12 years of being a professional working artist and 26 of being an athlete, I often find myself in a position of authority and responsibility.  I enjoy being depended upon, working under pressure and I certainly love the collaborative, creative process.  Although, on DP, I was never in any position of authority, my coordinators and teammates included me in the process, respecting me as the professional that I am, which is exactly what the professional in me seeks.  I can be a great employee because I understand and appreciate the people who are directing me.  I accept my role humbly, offering my 110% integrity.

Acceptance played a huge role in my DP experience.  I know what stunts is and can finally accept it for exactly that. I know what is expected of me as a stunt double/performer.  Any other wish, belief or hope would only be irresponsible.  Knowing my role and letting go of any emotional attachments I may have carried with me in the past, released me from the darkness that clouded any of my previous work.  Stunts is as stunts is.

I suppose a huge part of my release is knowing and valuing that I am much more than a stunt woman.  Where as before, I struggled with identifying myself as such because I couldn’t quite grasp how all the pieces of puzzle fit together.  A few years and 800km across Spain has taught me that I am ALL of those pieces and more!  And for the purpose of this show, for the amount of time I am booked on it, I am a stunt woman.  Plain and simple.

Having never felt like I was part of the team may also have been an unconsciously huge obstacle in my pathway of stunts.  Being part of such a positive environment and great team leads me to believe that this work actually is FUN!  Imagine that!  For me, I just never saw it.  My own previous experiences have only been bloody battles with ego, my own and that which perceived from the people around me.  If this is what stunts can be, then I am positive that I can be a little more inclusive to allowing it back into my life.

Which leads me to:

Part 3: Confronting My Own Bull Shit…Again…

DP left me on a high, refocusing my eyes on the newly revitalized possibilities of what I truly want from my performance career.  I can see a world where by continuing to pursue that which truly brings me joy, the perfect work will show up for me.  The exciting part is, that I can feel stunts being a part of that vision again.  Great, wonderful, now what?

Having experienced the power of community and unity with the DP team, I though this would be the perfect time to explore the concept in the power of being a ‘We’ instead of a “Me.”  I enrolled myself in a course designed to address this obvious and very necessary step in my continued development.

(Please excuse my generic self improvement, mumbo-jumbo language but if any of you have followed my previous posts, you will understand that the changes I am making in my life are to gain a greater understanding into my relationships…or lack there of.)  

The ‘We/Me’ concept was the focus this weekend and let me tell you, I had the most challenging, complicated and surprising experience of facing my own ego, stories, act, junk that I have had since Spain, and possibly the most abrupt.  When faced with the task of finding love, compassion, oneness with a roomful of strangers, I shut down, completely!

For as long as I can remember, I have been a “Leave me alone, I can do it myself” kinda girl.  I’m independent.  There is certainly nothing wrong with that but my solitary lifestyle, while partially necessary to my entire well being, only encourages aloofness and a “I don’t give care about you because you don’t care about me” attitude.

Not very helpful when trying to create meaningful relationships.

The room I entered was full of like-minded, empowered people who were eager to take on a new understanding of how to make this world a better place.  They all seemed so willing to engage their own personal dramas in such a way that they would be able to release whatever it is that they are still blocked with.  I thought I was too.

But from the moment I sat down in my chair, I was a burning, white hot ball of volatile rage.  The anger bubbling up my my stomach and chest, pulsing and searing into my veins as I sat and listening to course leader explain to the room what it would take to lead a truly empowered life.

“There is power in the collective whole, with this you can change the world.  Anything is possible.”

I get it, I really do!  I have experienced it before, the power of connection and love, how it can open up any door or window.  It can free you of the shackles that contain your life.  I was overwhelmed with it on the Camino, I just experienced it on Deadpool and I can honestly say that anytime I have had a moment of greatness in my life, it is because that community existed for me in that moment.  So why am I sitting here in some random ballroom, seething in my blood boiling fury, ready to cut down everything the course leader or peers offer into the space?

Oh hey, Ego, it’s been a while, nice to see you again!

So, when faced with the concept of allowing a room full of strangers into my life and me into theirs, my own personal blockages surrounded connecting to the world appeared in a full fledged ‘flight or fight’ response.  The physical reaction was so palpable, real and consuming that I spend most of the day teetering on the edge of picking up my bag, stomping my feet, shouting obscenities and finally, leaving the room middle fingers raised high in the air!  I was having a full on, full out, 6 year old temper tantrum and I couldn’t even tell you why!

All I could hear in my head was, “It’s a room full of people I have absolutely no interest in, why would I give a shit about becoming part of the collective whole with them? I don’t care.”

I do know that, for whatever reason, I carry an “I don’t care, leave me alone” attitude into every area of my life.  It is a defensive mechanism.  It keeps me safe from harm and rejection.

I can accept that.  I can work on that.


What I can’t accept is the fact that even after all this work I have done in the past few years, that I would completely give up and walk away from something that is going to offer me growth just because and I am scared and uncomfortable.  Which is why I stayed in the room.  I was determined to discover what was at the bottom of this.

There I sat, the white, hot burning in my chest transformed into green foam of nausea.  My legs bent up under neither me, arms crossed over my waist, shoulders caved in; a completely protective position.

In my struggle to keep myself in the room, I did manage to maintain a small level of awareness.  A part of me still in there, observing myself through this horrible change in my being, wondering what the hell is going on that my reaction to the material would be so visceral.

The obvious conclusion is that this is clearly an area of my life that needs attention.  I am searching for better, closer, more truthful relationships and what better indication that I am on my way to understanding why I have continually shut myself down than this experience, than right here.  I must be very close to having a life changing epiphany (my favourite kind.)

At the end of it, I can’t say I truly was able to drop my childish resistance to accepting the group, although I did lighten up considerably, I was extremely fortunate to have a glimpse of a piece to the puzzle I have been searching for.  I may have awoken a dragon but at least I know it’s there.

The truth is, I do want to make an impact in this world.  I have an empire to build but I can’t do that if I can’t reach people and I can’t react people if I can’t connect with them.  I was able to connect to my team on DP or with the pilgrims on The Way because of our shared interest and common goals.  I was completely unwilling to share myself with a room full of authentically, supportive humans, looking to grow in the same way I am because they were strangers to me, therefore worthy of my mistrust.   There was absolutely nothing wrong with the group of people I shared the weekend with and I am certain that they would have had my back in a heart beat.  It was simply my own resistance to releasing my own bull shit that held me down.

There is beauty in being able to drop the selfish, individual act, walking into a world where you engage in making a meaningful difference for others.  Indeed, this is truly how the world will change for the better, if we all stand up for each other, not just ourselves.

Also, there is absolutely no doubt that I can have it all, everything I dream of but as I have mentioned early, I can’t achieve my own personal goals without enlisting the help and support of the community around me.  What I realized this weekend is that I still have a long way to go in allowing any of that support into my life because my selfish ego thinks it will be fine on it’s own.  This is a blatant lie.

So, my “breakthrough” promised in this short course was not feeling the power of love in being a part of the whole but rather in that I realized how much this “I don’t care, leave me alone.” defensive strategy pervasively runs my life.  There is power in that because like all development, change begins with the awareness.  And I have certainly gained that.

The irony, I am sharing my struggle with you right now, vulnerably admitting my own short coming in the face of truly making a meaningful shift in my consciousness, liberated in the fact that I have exploded something new to my ever-growing evolution as a human being.   And perhaps you or someone you know can relate.  I have no idea what your story is but it is equally as valid and worth sharing.  If we truly are connected, then we all share in this same difficult struggle to wake up from the comfort of our own bubble and working to expand it to include others.

I can assure you, I will recover from my anger. I didn’t die this weekend from caring too much, nobody tried to hurt me.  Everything is as it should be.  What I learned this weekend is perfectly timed.  The knowledge I needed, came to me at the exact right moment and that I can accept that while I settle into the shift that is about to happen for me.

Yes, I can have it all.  It’s on it’s way and this is only the beginning of something amazing!

The Next Great Adventure

I really don’t know where to begin.  It’s been so long since I have allowed myself to write a post that I don’t even know where I left off.  I will just start…

There has been a major shift in my consciousness in the past few months after it became clear that even after all the self development and growth I have made in the past year, I am still holding onto outdated ideas involving my own personal universe.  My expectations about money and my career are still at the top of my mind every single day.  Both remain and are currently my top priority.  Every action, breath or strategic move I make revolves around a story I keep telling myself.

The story about my life being completely about my work.

And although, I am getting much closer to living my life completely within my own truth, I am finally ready to admit that my perception of what matters to me needs an overhaul.

This is not to say I haven’t done some great work in the past few years.  For instance, I created a company called Ninja Stix, in which I offer Ninja classes to children and adults.  An original and completely unique idea that occurred to me last summer while contemplating a way to share my skills in a way that encompasses all of them.

Initially, I had great fear about starting my own business, even though technically I have been running one for 12 years as a professional performer.  However, what scared me about Ninja Stix was that I was beginning to chart into unknown territory.  Although my experience as a performer would benefit me greatly, certain logistics like registering and owning a business, writing a business plan, advertising, marketing, branding or even acquiring clientele were simply beyond me.  Yet, some how I managed to summon the courage to try something I have never done before simply because I knew it was time for me to take action.  Nine months later, I have a relatively successful business with 22 Vancouver students!  As it turns out, I actually have a knack for business and quite enjoy the strategy behind building one from scratch!  What I have gained is confidence in myself and my abilities, I would have never discovered this skill had I never taken the risk of creating something.

The same can be said of my Acrobatic Conditioning workshops.  I decided that the only way I will have the opportunities I want to travel and work all, over the world, would be to run my acrobatic workshops as a legitimate business.  Using the experiential knowledge I was gaining from Ninja Stix, I built integrity and professionalism around myself as an instructor, while clarifying what my product is that I am offering.  I am glad I did so, it’s been a extremely gratifying year for both companies.  I can see growth and maturity in both projects.  I’m excited at the possibilities yet to come!

Now for the real juice…

I made a choice when I returned home from the Camino that I would create the life I wanted.  For too long, I had sat around waiting for people to hand me opportunities that would lead to a successful career.  Deep down, I have always known that I am capable of much more than I had previously allowed for myself.   Yet, even in my new found entrepreneurial spirit, I still have that unsettling feeling of gloom.

For all the work I do, I feel like I am repetitively running head first into a brick wall.  Each time, I hold a glimmer of hope that I may be able to finally be able to smash through it.  And while the wall has been consistently crumbling for the better part of two years, I still find myself trapped behind it.  Nothing is ever enough.

Here lies my first inclination that perhaps I am truly really ready to move on.  Which, in this moment, begins with moving out of Vancouver.  Now, I could list you a list 3 pages long of why it is time to leave the city I have called home for 12 years:

  • It’s time.
  • I am completely emotionally depleted with the city after giving my health, time, energy, money, blood, tears, sweat etc.
  • I am not receiving what I have given.
  • People are flakey and suppressed.
  • Vancouver has always been temporary.
  • I have wanted to leave for years.
  • It’s not where I am meant to be.
  • The man of dreams does not live in Vancouver.
  • I am always caught in the same cycle of all work, no money.

Blah blah blah…

While they all feel like valid excuses, they are essentially just stories.  After all, Vancouver is just a place.  I’m the one who has added all the subtitles.

The real truth is that I am making a choice.  I am choosing to live somewhere new.  I am choosing to start a new adventure.  With the growth I have made in the past 2 years, this real is the opportune moment for me to do that.  I am ready.   And city I have chosen to go is the absolute last place I thought I would ever find myself.

Calgary. (Oh my god, what am I doing?)

For 12 years, I have repeatedly told myself that going back to Alberta was completely out of the question.  “Never in this lifetime would I even consider going back,” I would say.    Europe, Toronto or even New York were always far more appealing options on my list.  I would tell myself and whom ever would listen, that I could never do all the things that I do: performing, teaching, training etc in Alberta.  There simply isn’t the industry.  I will even admit that up until mid-February, I thought Toronto would be my next destination.  But here’s the thing, my life has changed considerably (for the better) and it has taken a turn down a path that I had never expected.  This new path is much more real than the old one I had been following out of pride and ego.  This current path is much more aligned with my own personal truth, not some fabricated expectation of what I think my life SHOULD be.

As much as I wanted Toronto to work for me because it seems sexier and more alive with the industry I have been fighting with for 12 years, it just didn’t feel right for me in this moment.  Digging deeper, as I am apt to do, I realized that there is much more at play than my continuing career aspirations.  Yes, I want to continue performing, teaching and training at a professional level but where I am really lacking in my life is my relationships.

I am notoriously good at creating “business” relationships.  Keeping everyone at an arm’s distance, never showing any signs of weakness or vulnerability.  It is evident in my friendships, my love relationships, my relationships to my work or money, and even my relationship with myself.   Seems like old news doesn’t it?  I have been plague by my own disconnection for decades and yet, even with the amount of self cultivation I have done, I am still no closer to truly being comfortable having people get so intimate.  I realize, only now, that where the roots of all these relationships begin is with my family!

I have often stood aghast while watching people connect with their families.  The loyalty and unconditional love contained with in their close knit units, has continually baffled me.  For me, I have no comprehension of what that life is like.  My entire life has been about my career.  From age 5, I have been training to reach some ultimate goal, which I am not even sure truly exists.  Everything I have ever done has been about reaching said goal, no matter who or what stands in my way.  Combine that with my unwavering sense of independence, and it is not surprising that depending or allowing the support of my own familiars has simply never even crossed my mind.   I can take care of myself right?

Apparently not.  I was completely shocked when I had the epiphany, mid-February, that a non-business relationship with my family, specifically my Mom, is EXACTLY what I have been missing.  I simply cannot move on to the next level of my life, like I have been so diligently working towards, until I can learn to be involved with the people within my own tribe.  How’s that for personal growth?!

So this is where my next adventure takes me.  A place full of family, my deepest roots, connections and networks.  A place where the people around me have only met young Michelle, not adult Michelle.  I get to start over in the most supportive environment possible and isn’t that a beautiful thing!  In Calgary, I can see my self soaring, taking my personal relationships and career to unprecedented heights.  I am excited.  I am terrified.  I am ready!

See you in June, Calgary!


A Lesson in Self Acceptance

Here it is!

This is a personal project I have been working on in the past months. I am very proud of this piece for many reasons. It is a testament to owning, expressing and accepting myself exactly as I am, in this moment.

Huge thank you to Mike Wu for all of his hard work, Cameron Fraser for his rad projections and his willingness to play ‘The Man.’
Other thanks to Sideshow Studios, Natalie Gibson, Leah Litwack and anyone else who lent their support.
Please enjoy!

One Year Later…

7am Aug 27, 2013

Aug 27, 2013

One year ago, at approximately 7am, I began an epic journey of self discovery.  As I walked out the door of my refuge in St. Jean Pied de Port on August 27, 2013, I was overcome by feelings of fear, excitement, dread and mystery for I could never have comprehended the magic, heartbreak, love, joy, connection I would find whilst walking towards Santiago.

At that moment, I was burned out, malnourished, and lost.  I was searching for the key to my life, answers I had been incapable of attaining.  I was taking a leap of faith, hoping that this pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago would be my solution.  I was hoping that everything would become clear to me in the 800km to my end destination.

In the end, after fighting my way across Spain; winning some battles, losing others, I realized that I would not find all the answers to my questions in one 33 day journey.  That being said, the Camino was everything I had hoped for and more.

That mysterious entity that calls herself Camino, showed me exactly what I needed to know at that moment.  She did not provide me with a detailed point form research paper that would spell out my much needed solutions in plain english, like I was secretly hoping for.  Yet, she presented me everything I needed in her mysterious examples, people, places, smells, gusts of winds, flowers, syncronicities, pain and food.  It was up to me to comprehend and interpret.  And interpret I did…over the course of a year.

I still have tiny moments where I long to be back there, simply walking.  The thing is, I have never left the Camino and the Camino has never left me!  I am still walking it everyday.  The Camino is life, a journey.  Everyday, I get to wake up and begin my journey of this moment.  Yes, there are long term goals but like was the case in Spain, I have learned that it is not about the destination, it’s all about how you get there.  One step at a time, over and over again, just keep walking.

Today I can say that I finally see the continuation of my journey.  No, it has not all been easy and perfect but I am finally able to trust in the mystery because I have seen it play out in my everyday life.  The Camino was not the be-all-end-all of answers but it did show me a glimpse of simplicity, love, light, darkness, ego and pride.  I think to myself now, “how can I go back to those patterns and situations that don’t serve me if I have seen what does?”  And thus begins the theme for the past year; letting go of all that doesn’t serve me.

It hasn’t been easy because some of those ideas and events have been with me since I was a child.  I have build whole careers around them, friendships and relationships.  I have poured my heart and soul into many of them, how can I just up and walk away?

The answer is: I don’t have a choice.  I have seen my light and I simply cannot allow myself to be put back in circumstances that don’t bring me light.  The only thing holding me there now is my ego.  And didn’t I learn a huge lesson about that in Spain, probably my biggest lesson.  So, if it’s just my ego holding me down than I have no choice but to move on and move forward.  The ego is a big mountain to climb, I am still climbing.  I will let you know when I get there.

For now, I am continuously moving forward, taking that one step, day by day.  I have faith that I am going the right direction because I finally am able to trust myself, love myself and be myself.  Something I would have never been able to do a year ago.  The Camino gave me the courage and opportunity to make the changes I needed to make.  I look forward to the adventure that lies ahead and take with me all the lessons I have learnt so far.

Thank you to everyone who came with me along the way, whether in spirit, in writing or physical presence.  Thank you to the Camino for calling me over and showing me everything all at once.

Buen Camino.

Michelle’s Guide to Turning 30

Michelle’s Guide to Turning 30


Congratulations, I made it to 30!


Turning 30 has elicited a whirlwind of emotions for me.  First of all, I am in complete disbelief that time passes so quickly.  I’ve heard rumours about this time warping phenomenon the older folk speak of however, until now they have been just that: rumours.  Now here I am, a certified adult…30.

How did this happen? I am still a child who knows nothing about life, how can I be turning thirty?  Where did all that time go?  Shouldn’t I have a better grasp on things by now?

When I look back on the past 30 years, I guess I could say I have put my time to good use.  The proof being in the multiple lifetimes I have lived.  I was once a creative, tom-boyish child, a champion baton twirler, a professional dancer, a teacher, a writer.  I’ve pursued my dreams and built myself a career in a cut throat industry.  I travelled the world, I worked in the movies, I worked for the circus. I once got paid to put on a purple unitard, slap on a mask and pretend to be a seahorse…in a forest.  There was even a time I was chased by feral monkeys in Hong Kong.  This past year not with standing, I guess you could say, I have lived my life and especially my 20’s to the fullest!

My last year and a half has been a well documented exploration into my truth and soul.  A process that would have never happened if it weren’t for all of these past experiences.  I have had many victories but I have also had many failures and it has only been through a commitment to complete self honesty that I have discovered what I else I can include.




Here is what I do know, purely through trial and error:

1. Pay your taxes.

This is an important and unfortunate truth.  You’ll have to find a way to “Stick it to the man” some other way.

2. Get a hair cut.

It’s a new decade and it deserves a new do!


3. Take Inventory.

An honest evaluation of what is and isn’t working is always a good road map, no matter how hard or uncomfortable it makes you.


4. Think about your health.

Let’s face it, you aren’t on warranty anymore.  You require a little more maintenance.


5. Tell people how you feel.

People can’t read your mind and many challenging situations could be avoided if you would just say what’s on your mind rather than burying it.


6. Stop worrying so much about things you cannot change.

You can’t go back in time and we have yet to discover how to bend the space/time continuum to go forwards.  Let it go!


7. Stop worrying so much about things you apparently won’t change.

Chances are if you aren’t willing to do the work to change bad habits than it’s going to stick around for a while.  Stop stressing about it until you are ready to make that change.


8. If you are willing to make a change, stop talking about it, DO IT!

So you are willing to do the work? Great, now get to work!


9. Stop caring what people think.

Seriously, they’re just thinking about themselves anyway.  Aren’t you?


10. Commit to living in the moment.

Because it’s got to be clear to you by now that that is all you have.


11. Go to bed at a decent hour.

Sleeping is good for you and you are so much more productive when you are well rested.


12. Get up early.

There is a whole day of life for you to live!


13. Make you bed.

Just do it, it takes 30 seconds and it looks nice when you get home.


14. Be bold.

That thing you have always wanted to do but hesitated because of any number of reasons?  Just do it and be proud that you are trying something new!


15. Face your self.

Funny, we have lost touch with who we truly are and are afraid of who is actually underneath.


16. Face you fears.

Fear is there for a reason, it’s actually a good thing.  Explore it, challenge it and conquer it!  You may just surprise yourself.


17. Listen!

To yourself, your intuition, to your friends, family, that guy on the bus, to the wind.  Just listen.


18. Being willing to admit you have no idea what’s going on.

Apparently nobody does.  Just go with it.


19. Being willing to admit when you are wrong.

Goes along with facing yourself but admitting you are wrong when you actually are, is a strength.


20. Go for walks.

Long ones if you need too.


21. Put your phone/computer/TV away.

For at least an hour everyday.  This may be hard to believe but you don’t need it.


22. Meditate.

It has been proven that people who meditate have less injuries, stress and health problems than those who do not.  Food for thought.


23. Travel more.

There is nothing more worthwhile to spend your money on.


24. Open your heart.

All you need is love.


25. Say thank you.

For everything.


Bottom line:

The wonderful thing about 30 is, I may not have everything figured out but I do have some experience under my belt now!  I know it will not always be smooth sailing but I endeavour to use each and every experience as an opportunity to grow.  Each day is a new chance to invite more wisdom, light, peace and love into my life.


Here’s to a new decade of adventures through life!


Doing Whatever It Takes: A Dangerous Habit

Doing Whatever It Takes: A Dangerous Habit

By Michelle Smith


In response to an article I posted on my Facebook wall:


Disclaimer:  What you are about to read my anger you, upset you or affect you in some way, shape or form.  Please be advised.


Hi, my name is Michelle and I work in film…

I also think I might have disordered eating.

When I saw the headline of this article show up in my news feed I clicked on it unconsciously.  The subject caught my attention immediately because it speaks of the alarming hazards of female athletes trying to remain thin by under-eating, causing havoc to their metabolisms and psyches.  The author spoke of the dangerous side effects of a calorie deficient diet that cause Anemorrhea, metabolic disorders and all the disordered eating habits involved.  This really hit home with me because recently, I have been struggling with some very real consequences of some actions I took in order to be, as we like to say in the film industry, “doing whatever it takes.”

My weight has always been a source of concern to me.  I have long wished for a ripping 6-pack and felt for many years that my fitness level and strength does not match my physique.  In short, for most of my adult life, I have believed myself to be fat!  In the last 10 years, after much research and experience I have cleaned up my diet from what I deem “junk food junky” to “extremely health conscious.”  Almost by accident I became gluten and dairy free by just focusing on what foods fuelled my precious body most efficiently.  Harmless as that may seem, especially for a professional athlete, I continued to be dissatisfied with my weight.  Most people would lose 5-10lbs upon adopting a gluten-free or dairy free diet, I however, did not.  I found this extremely frustrating.

It is no secret that with this world, we are constantly being bombarded by unrealistic expectations of what women should look like.  In my line of work which is basically the industry that supplies those images, it is a very common place conversation to talk about a performer’s weight and size.  It is a visual industry after all. The stunt industry it is especially prevalent  because finding the best match for actor can be very challenging at times.  It is not uncommon, for stunt performers, especially women, to be expected to drastically drop or gain weight in a very short amount of time in order to fit the bill of doubling an actor.

Let me tell you a story:


Towards the middle of summer in 2012, I had begun to reach a burn out point in my career. I had invested every ounce of my energy, blood, sweat, tears, heart and soul into playing the game of Stunts.  I trained extremely hard to learn how to fight, fall, wield weapons, take a hit and everything in between.  I networked, showed up at the right places, said the right things, all of it.  I was tried, both physically and emotionally.   I was upset that I was not working as much as some of the other girls and very desperately wanted to be accepted by my peers. I felt that I had basically given everything I had to this stunt career and received nothing in return.


The one thing I hadn’t done though, that I had seen many other performers do, was drop an exorbitant amount of weight for a role.  In July of 2012, I watched my friend, Lori (who also wrote a post about this:, prepare herself to double an actress for a movie.  Lori was extremely fit already and a skilled martial artist, I didn’t think she had any weight to lose.  But, as the industry standard goes, her actress was stick thin and it was Lori’s job as the stunt double to match her size.  I remember a conversation we had where Lori described how trying it was to do such a thing.  I remarked at how I could never allow myself to go there.  My body was just not made to be ‘actress skinny.’  I’m a strong German woman after all!


Funny how things change in only a matter of weeks.


About 2 weeks later, I was 30 seconds away from taking a bite from a freshly BBQ’d medium rare steak when I received a phone call.  “There was is a new series in town, they had a character who happened to wield a staff, you’re the first and only one I thought of, send your weapons reel asap and lose some weight FAST! “ (Key word: FAST)


How fast?  “2 weeks, 3 weeks tops.”


I can remember exactly what went on in my head that night, there was a strange mix of elation to dread to fear to anxiety.  I was excited for the opportunity for sure!  Finally, something had come along with my specialty and strength. They hadn’t officially cast the actress I would potentially be doubling yet but the producers were hovering around a girl who was 138 lbs.   It looked like it was my gig to get!


Problem was, having tried almost everything to cut weight, my body seemed adamant at remaining at 150lbs, actually closer to 155lbs at the time.  If I have already cut gluten, dairy, tried paleo, tried juicing, tried cutting carbs, how in the world was I supposed to drop 15 pounds in 2 weeks.


Is that even healthy?  I wondered.


The rational in my head was as followed: 


If it’s only 2 weeks, then when it’s over I can just go back to eating normally.

Success is my only mother fuckin’ option, failure’s not!  (Thanks again Marshall Mathers)

I guess my next step to cut my animal protein.

And if that doesn’t work than it may have to be a calorie and portion chopping deal.

I have never done this for my career before, and this may be the last effort I have been missing.

Oh god, I am going to have to do so much cardio!


In that bittersweet moment, I put down my uneaten steak and as a symbol of what I was about to do to myself, I walked away from the food.


**I think back to this moment now and I am sick to my stomach.  It makes me so upset that I did this.  I am not proud of what happened next.**


Immediately in the days that followed, I reached out to some peers and coaches I respected greatly for some advice on how to go about this challenge I was about to face.  Of course, my intention was to do this as healthily as possible making sure I was getting enough food to sustain me but also restricting as much as possible for the best possible outcome.  It surprised me how conflicting and different everyone’s advice was.


Since I had the opportunity of a lifetime riding on my back, I was not about to let myself fail.  I had to do WHATEVER IT TAKES to drop weight, however after about a week and a half, I had barely noticed any sort of results.  I had replaced all my animal protein with tofu or lentils, I replaced my carbs with brown rice only and restricted even that.  I never ate after 8pm.  I cut all sugar except fresh fruit, which I only ate on an empty stomach.  I rode my bike everywhere, I was at Circus 2.5 hours a day and did yoga almost every day.




Around the 2 week mark, I was beginning to feel the pressure of the task I had been assigned.  My potential employers were checking in on my progress, assuring me it would only be a few more weeks.  I began fretting over whether I was doing enough.  Could I be doing more?




Most of you who know me know that I am a work horse to the core.  I work hard and will always give 110%, every single time.  I take my job seriously, so when I am being asked to do whatever it takes, I will follow through.  However, what was developing in me in the weeks that followed was a strong, anxious feeling that I may be harming my body in a way that I am essentially not comfortable with.  I knew that I was not giving my body adequate amount of calories for the amount of training I was doing.  It was evident by the headaches, sluggishness, irritability and sheer hunger but I was on a mission that I could not/would not fail.


I grew desperate.  I cut fruit right out.  I left the brown rice behind, opting for yams and veggies instead.  I developed an OCD like tendency over my portion sizes and meal timing.  I began hiding away from the world.  After about 3 weeks, I started noticing weight coming off, after 4, I still hadn’t been brought in for the job.  I was beginning to hover around my phone, waiting for that inevitable phone call.  Instead, all I got were vague “soon, keep going.” instructions.

How much longer was I expected to maintain this?


By the beginning of September, I had fallen into a groove.  I ate the same things, at the same time, rode my bike to training, worked hard at circus, went to yoga, rode home, went for a run, did arts and crafts, watched Netflix, read books.  Whatever I could do to distract myself from not eating, I did.  I didn’t go out to hang with friends because socializing entailed food and that wouldn’t work.  I also didn’t have friends over because well, who would really want to do cross-stitching with me and not eat?!  I couldn’t ask that of anybody.  I was also ashamed of how I looked.


In my seclusion, I waged a bloody war within myself.  I knew that what I was doing was unhealthy and wrong for me, but the lure of finally achieving my career goals kept drawing me deeper and deeper into a hole.  I believed that by getting this job, all of my past efforts, including this one, would be justified and finally, I might feel successful and worthy of being a stunt woman.


Two months passed, any news or notifications of what was going on had completely stopped.  I was in limbo, unsure of what to do next.  That phone call to come in could happen at any moment. I had to be prepared so I kept going.


By the beginning of October, I had reached the 140 lbs mark.  I was often startled when I looked in the mirror, not recognizing the person I was seeing.  I saw someone who by movie standards looked beautiful but by my standards, I saw an ugly, old, gaunt woman.  I looked grey.  My clothes hung off me, my arms and legs boney and thin.  Ironically, I had a ripping 6 pack, complete with prominent transverse muscles.  Isn’t that what I have always wanted?

My peers remarked at how good I looked and how I looked like a leading actress, I smiled and thanked them, assuring everyone who might be concerned that I was indeed eating and healthy.

Many coordinators congratulated me on finally taking my career seriously.  I felt guilty and undeserving of their praise.


What I didn’t tell people was how meticulous I was about keeping my meals below 200 calories for fear that I might gain a pound.  In truth, I was barely eating 1200 calories a day.


I didn’t tell anyone that I didn’t get my period last month.


I didn’t tell anyone because in my mind,  I was doing WHATEVER IT TOOK.


I never could comprehend the danger and severity of developing an eating disorder until I realized one day that I had become a walking example of one.  I was shocked and angry at myself having defied my better judgment and intuition.  Never, ever, in my life, did I think it would be possible for me, lover of food, to get to this point.  I was just so incredibly paranoid about failing and gaining weight by this point that I couldn’t imagine going back to what I was before.  (As if that were a bad thing.)

Outwardly, I was bright and confident, ready to take on the world with my new 6-pack but inwardly, I was so ashamed of myself.  I turned my beautiful, muscular body into this wiry, emaciated creature that went against everything I used to stand for.  I sold out to the film industry devil, and went from being a strong role model for my students to another statistic and example of what the media portrays as beautiful to young girls.  I was disgusted with myself.


At my lowest weight, around 12% body fat, I weighed 137 lbs.  By the time November and December rolled around, I was in maintenance mode.  I knew that I needed to stop losing after I had woken up and realized I had become anorexic.  I hovered around 137-142 lbs for the next 6 months.  Waiting…


And I never did get that phone call.


What did end up happening was I started booking work.  A lot of work.  Turns out, my weight was “holding me back” in my career.  I dove into it head first, as graciously as possible. This is what I wanted after all, right?  I really took a lot of strides in my career in 2013.  It felt like I was unstoppable, a budding stunt actor career in the works.  I was poised to take over the world, Catwoman, not far from my reach.  I just couldn’t believe the stark contrast between my career pre weight loss to post weight loss.


I maintained as long as I could but I simply could not remain at 137 lbs.  Slowly over the next few months my weight float up towards 142-144 lbs.  Every pound striking a dagger of shame and fear into my soul.  I was gaining weight, therefore I was failing.  I was anxious that someone might call me out on my stumble up the scale.


However, I still had not gotten my period. I was still stressed and anxious about eating anything ‘bad’ as well.  That shadow is self-loathing and disappointment hanging in the distant corner of my mind.  My stress becoming so unbearable sometime that I would have moments of extreme binging.  Throwing my hands up in the air, saying “I can’t take it anymore!” while I scarfed down the whole bulk section at Wholefoods.  This was immediately followed by great remorse and a few extra hours training, which became my way of purging.


In approximately May, I simply could not handle anymore, the diet, the stress, the anxiety of trying to maintain a certain physique was starting to weight on me.  I began questioning my reasons and motives for pursuing the work I was doing.  I began to disconnect from everything I had known about myself until then.  I questioned myself about my priorities. Yes I was working but did the work justify the sacrifice I was taking?  Was all of this worth it?  Do I love this career?  Who the hell am I?


I couldn’t find an answer.  I was having trouble getting past the fact that I had actually harmed my physical body in order to achieve my career goals, something I promised myself I would never do.  It’s one thing to willing risk your bone, muscles and joints for the physicality of stunts but when we are asked to sacrifice the health of our internal body, I wonder if there might be something fundamentally wrong.


I can’t blame anybody but myself for the hell I endured the last year and a half.  It was my choice to drop the weight, I could have declined.  However, I got so trapped in trying to accommodate and bend myself to get the work that I lost track of what is really important.  In hindsight, I could have sought professional advice to help me reach the goal I had in mind, but I didn’t.  I was intimidated and afraid that I would run out of time and lose the gig.  The irony was that I never got it in the first place!

I dropped close to 20 lbs for a show and never got hired.

Then I proceeded with my caloric deprivation for almost a full year, just in case because, I was doing whatever it took to have a successful film career.


“It’s just what you are supposed to do.”  I would often hear.


It took me almost a full year to really understand the severity of the damage I had done to my body.  When I started seeing a doctor in June, for my now diagnosed Anemorrhea, I was shocked at how concerned she was.  Yes, I knew I was doing something very wrong but it wasn’t until the doctor looked at me in the eyes and said “I strongly suggest you gain weight and eat more.” This wasn’t a game anymore.  This is my life and my well being. It was clear that if I kept doing this, I will have neither of those.


In a way, I felt like I was meant to go through this tragedy and heart break because, if it weren’t for not getting hired on that show, I would have never been spurred into questioning my life and therefore, never would have been propelled to the Camino de Santiago in August 2013.  Almost a full year later to the date!   Also, it made everything unbelievably real for me. It gave me space and perspective on this career I have been trying to build for so long.


And the conclusion I came to (while walking in Spain) was that: hard work, I can handle.  Disappointment, I can deal with that.  But when I am asked to sacrifice my health in such a way that my body stops functioning, I cannot accept that as an acceptable risk.  This job, this industry, does NOT mean that much to me.  It is NOT worth dying for.   Harsh truth, from a harsh inward journey.


I realize for many of us in the industry, our opinions may differ and while this is perfectly ok, at the end of the day, I have to do what is best for me.


Currently, I am heavier than I have ever been, not by much but in all honesty, I am.  I gained close to 25 lbs while in Spain eating whatever and whenever I felt like it.  It was like escaping from the prison in my mind.  I made a point of not caring while I was away, no matter what the consequences were when I returned.  Reckless abandon.  I assumed that when I returned to Vancouver, and got back to a much healthier diet than wine, bread and digestive cookies that I would return to my healthy weight of 150 lbs.  Combine that with my training and exercise, it should be no problem, right?



I came home with the intention of eating like a normal person, focusing on well balanced, organic, whole foods with no stress and anxiety surrounding them.  I allowed myself space to be heavier, but still carried around the expectation that I would drop back into my pervious healthy range.  I was also dealing with adrenal fatigue after having trained so hard on so little food, so I made a point of reducing my training to allow my body time to heal.

All in all, I was eating much more mindfully, healthier than I ever had in my whole life.  However, my body was refusing to change.  My hormones still were unbalanced and that anxiety was beginning to creep back into my life.  Even after all the soul searching and priority rearranging, I still found myself preoccupied with the question :”What if a coordinator called me, asked my availability for work and I have to tell them I got fat?”


That situation did indeed happen, a few times, and I was honest with my responses and size, assuring them in a few months I would be back to a more acceptable range.


Wait!  What?  Do you hear yourself, Michelle?!  Didn’t you just walk 800 km across Spain, to remember that your health is number one priority?


I waged an inner battle between giving my body the space it needed to heal, accepting that this is where it was at and fretting over the fact that I still hadn’t lost any weight.  By mid-January, it was clear that I had a long road to recovery ahead of me, but I was determined to get back on track.

I went back to my doctor and told her I was finally ready to do whatever it takes to get my healthy body back.  She promptly ordered more blood tests, prescribed me progesterone and referred me to the endocrinologist at VGH.  One step at a time I was on my way there.  I found myself finally being able to let go of worrying about what my stunt peers and superiors would think of me.  I had my priority.


I learned a lot about myself in Spain (for a complete run-down please refer to my Camino posts) and I’ve learned even more about myself while I applied all my lessons back in Vancouver.  I finally feel like I am on my true path in life and it’s a lot different than what I expected.  I am truly getting to know myself and learning to love who that woman is.  So, the ironic twist of fate that came at the end of January really surprised me and through me for a loop.


That show that I never got to work on, that opportunity that this whole process started for, came straight back to me when I least expected it.  I was gifted a second chance to do the work that alluded me at the beginning of this timultuous journey.  However, this time I had the wisdom to see it differently.  I chose to act mindfully.  This time I was determined to do it right!


What I can say is that the entire situation was extremely enlightening and a huge tesitment to the journey that I have been on.  I was lucky to recieve this gift and took it as an amazing opportunity to impart my new found knowledge.  What I learned was, even though this job was cause for so much turmoil for me, I could come into work with the intention of offering love and compassion.  No drama, no hurt, just acceptance and gratitude.


For me personally, I got my closure on a very painful chapter in my life.  Since those last days on set, I truly felt at peace with the decisions I made and I fully own them as part of journey in my life.  If I had not gone through this whole experience, I would not be in this truly wonderful place I am in today.


However, I feel compelled to share my story becasue I believe this attitude we have towards “doing whatever it takes,” is extremely dangerous.


I am all for maintaining a physique and fitness level that is within the strength requirements of each individual.  We are athletes, after all, most of us since childhood.  But I feel like we are treading into shark infested water by performing such drastic measures to get the work.  It’s a personal choice.

Above all, I learned that for me, I cannot accept that “DOING WHATEVER IT TAKES” attitude is in fact what it takes.  I will not accept this as a necessary sacrifice in my career and it took me a long, hard road to come to this decision.  I have battled myself on both sides of the coin, I can only stand behind my choice and offer a story of my experience.  This is what happened to me when I “did what it takes.”


It is encouraging that there have been many health and safety issues in the industry that have been brought up as of late.  Everything from working hours, conditions, concussions and many more.  I believe that these are important conversations and that they directly translate to the quality of work being produced.  Our health and well-being is directly related to our success as performers in this industry, and if we don’t have that, than what do we have?



Currently, I am seeing an endocrinologist and a dietitian in an effort to rememdy the physiologic and pyscholic damage I have done to my body.  I am on the mend and prepared to face myself, my habits and my disillusions.  I intend to heal my broken relationship with my body and food, one day at a time with self love, patience and maturity.


I call it “doing whatever it takes” to be healthy.


Thank you for reading.  I wish you health, happiness and love on your way.

Extracurricular Reading:

My Camino Blog:

Lori’s Post:





On Why the Olympics Really Get to Me…

It happens every 4 years.   

For as long as I was able to comprehend the massive scale of the Olympic Games, I have been enthralled with the happenings of this grande competition.  Truth, I cry a lot during the Olympics.  I cry when athletes, of any country, win gold medals, lose out on medals, when they hug their families, when they are standing there waiting to perform, or when they finish and take their final bow.  It’s safe to say, I just cry the whole damn time.

During the 2010 Olympics here in Vancouver, I was so lucky to be apart of the celebration, and it was just that, a celebration.  I performed, along with with my circus counterparts at The Underground Circus, in the Samsung pavilion at LiveCity Yaletown, one of the major event centres downtown for Olympic festivities.  The complex was huge, holding many large pavilions like Coke, Panasonic, along with Samsung.  There was a main stage that hosted huge Canadian bands like Arcade Fire, 2 huge screens that played events live, fireworks every night, great food.  It had everything, you name it!  The security was tight and usually fans were lined up for blocks just to get in.  Luckily for me, I was shuffled through the employees entrance every morning and free to take in the sights as I chose if I wasn’t working.  My crew and I did 5 circus shows a day for all 17 days of the Games.  It sounds like hard work, but I can safely say that the 2010 Olympics were some of the best days of my life.  I was so proud to be a part of such an amazing event.

Every morning, I would skytrain downtown and start my 20 min walk to the venue that allowed me to really get a grasp of the Olympic vibes going on in the city.  Vancouver transformed during that time.  No longer was it a secular, rainy, introverted city, it changed into this immensely positive, cheerful and sunny city that I have rarely seen since then.  (The Stanley Cup Playoffs being the other time that city emerged and then quickly disappeared again.)  I am 100% certain that part of the reason our athletes did so well that year was because the attitude of the city, and therefore the venues, was so light and bright.  What a magical time!  I will never ever forget it, and speaking of it 4 years later still gives me chills.

But speaking of emotional Olympics moments, I had what one can only described as Olympic withdrawal in the days following the games.  I was exhausted and so very emotional because it finally hit me that the last month I had spend emerged in this incredible event would never ever happen  to me again.  It was joy mixed with heartbreak mixed with pride mixed with fatigue.  I literally had a melt down and it took me almost a week to recover.

The Olympics also hold somewhat of a sore spot for me.  I would so badly love to compete.

So badly.  

The glory and the esteem of simply being an Olympian pulls at me.  In someways, I am really sad that I dedicated my life to a sport that is not even close to being represented at the Olympic Games.  It’s even more sad to know that I would have made multiple Olympic teams, hell I might even still be competing if baton were in the Olympics.  My chance at Olympic glory will never be there.  Sure, I could learn a new sport but there is nothing there that I feel passionate enough to dedicate my life to again.  Another lifetime, I suppose.

But can you imagine, standing up there, on the Olympic podium with a gold medal in your hand?!  What a gratifying and unique experience it must be.  The pinnacle of sport and achievement!!

Then there are those moments when you see the athletes who simply were not able to pull through on their Olympic day.  My heart breaks for them.  Dreams shattered in an instant.  I can only relate by way of my own experiences of training all year for Worlds, only to crash and burn due to my own anxiety.  But these athletes, they trained for this moment for 4 years!  4 years is a long time, a lot can happen in that time and then to have their hopes just stolen from them in that moment.  I’m gutted for them.

I often wonder how I would respond to Olympic pressure.  I am not afraid to admit that I did have my moments of disaster in my competition days, even some moments of nerves in my professional work.  I am only human after all.  But I wonder what would become of me if I, like those figure skaters or gymnasts do, took the floor and had the eyes of the entire world watching me.  Would I rise to occasion or falter?  I may never ever know.

I admire all of these athletes for the hard work, dedication and sacrifice it took to get them to the Olympics whether they placed first or last.  I am in awe of the people who are able to bring their ‘A’ game at the moment they needed it most and I am inspired by the courage it takes for those who ‘failed’ to pick them selves up and keep going.  And those ‘failures’ are certainly not failures in my eyes, in a way they are the true heroes.

For me, the Olympics are a huge mishmash of emotions, fears, hopes and dreams.  I live my Olympic dream through these athletes in their glory and defeat.  I am immensely proud of all of them and I will continue to cry, cheer and encourage them from afar.

I send well wishes to all the athletes of these Sochi Olympics and future Olympics to come.  To Canada, I am so proud to be cheering you all on and I hope, like in years past, we can remain the same humble, gracious and humorous nation we have always been.

And Sidney Crosby, I will always remember where I was for that Golden Goal.  I hope I this next one is just as memorable.

Go Canada Go!  We are winter!