I don’t know if my grandmother was a singer all of her life, but she was a singer for all of my life. I remember an important part of her week was being in the church choir, even as she moved residences, and therefore moved from church to church. When I was in my late teens and early 20’s, I would sometimes go to rehearsals with her, because I also loved to sing. I sang in high school, so I could read sheet music and follow along well enough.
Grandma was a lover of the arts, but especially music. I remember attending several musical and theatrical performances with her over the years, from a local musical at Leisure World put on by residents, to regional shows at the Olney Theater, to national touring shows at Lincoln Center. All four of her children studied piano, she almost always had music playing whenever she was home, and she even sang a duet with grandpa as a part of their 50 year wedding anniversary celebration. Many of us did a short performance of some sort as part of the celebration, but of course, grandma and grandpa stole the show with their wit and comfort being at the center of a room full of loving friends and family.
Sometimes my mind runs amok, galloping quickly, in a forward flight, at the speed of light. It reaches other universes, goes to other lives, far, far away from the here and now.
And I remember that I know how to go back. I just have to look for that lighthouse that will take me to solid ground, that will bring me back to the present. A less fractious, traveling part of my mind searches for the breath, concentrates on it and, like a lost ship, we return to dry land. I take a deep breath and return to the present. My breathing, feeling observed, calms down. The heart calms, always trusting the breath. In the present, in this life, in this universe, there are no storms. And, if there are, I am prepared to overcome them…
Sometimes life throws something onto your path that makes you slow down or even stop altogether. You might welcome the pause when it’s an extended vacation or a sabbatical, but at other times, it might not be your intention to stop. Maybe you get sidetracked by an illness or a global pandemic. Whether you wanted to slow down or not, there usually comes a time when it’s necessary to pick up the pace again.
Lately I’ve been fielding more and more questions about the difference between aerial silks (circus) and aerial yoga. For anyone who’s taken both types of well-taught classes the differences are usually pretty obvious, but it can sometimes be confusing for new students.
Last night I caught up with a friend I used to dance contact-improv with in Minneapolis. I initially felt guilty that I let a few days go by before responding and that when I did finally return his message, I didn’t call. Rather, I left six awkward 1-minute voice notes via Facebook. Although this was someone I used to physically touch and laugh with on a regular basis, I couldn’t bring myself to have a live conversation; it felt like an impossible task. My guilt subsided when he replied with the admission he’d been almost 100% alone the entire year and also was feeling shy. He shared stories of how he looked away and disengaged when people tried to talk to him in the grocery store, and how he recoiled when he was eventually touched physically by a friend. He said it took an incredible presence of mind to override his nervous system’s new negative response to friendliness and connection.