THE RUSTY MOTOR OF HOPE

 89 of #100daychallenge

The concept of writing every day for 100 days is clearly blown. But I still want to log those 100 days, even if it happened over 130 days or whatever.

So, I have taught two classes at the Town Hall. I won't say it is going badly, but it hard to get a read on how people are responding as every one is wearing a mask and most seem a bit uncomfortable. Teaching in a studio is much different as people rather intuit most of the rules. Teaching in a large banquet hall place is different altogether. The scale of the place does not promote an inter-student intimacy. 

I really didn't know what to expect, but I was thinking more along the lines of what the Domineers are like. Goes to show what 20 years does to a person. These people all have much more body awareness, so just sitting in the chair is not going to make it. There is wall space available, so we did a couple of things at the wall. I had to extemporize on both occasions, although I was more prepared today. I need to think about what the limitations of the space and the class are and design a class more precisely. And I think it will end up as more of a level one hatha class than chair yoga. Also, the chairs slide across the floor making some things dangerous. 

I am just finding teaching harder for me than anticipated. Ten signed up and came to the first class, but only six came today. And, of course, I am taking it personally ... or at least wanting to but not letting myself focus on it. 

I am doing a bit better. I have managed to get a few things done and I have more energy. I have been to the new gym four times this week, bicycling about five miles each time. My knee hurts a lot a lot a lot, notwithstanding the recent cortisone shot. I don't know if the knee pain is related to the stationary bike or not. I even attended to some of the watering, although I haven't really gardened to speak of.

I miss Anita. I think I dreamt I cried about her as I have yet to manifest the tears and sadness I feel other than moping around and eating too much (hard to tell that is mourning, could just be hot weather). 

ALONE

what a word and I thought it would be

less disrespectful

old rotten teeth hanging on

there is no radius for this

so here I am

with the rusty motor of hope

sticking out of the sand like a dead arm

well it lasted

long enough it lasted until it was over

it ground the corn and did the dishes

and when it started to break down

where could I hide the pieces

with that repairman

looking at my uncouth hair

while I handed him tools always

the wrong one

now I can watch bushes

running their fingers over the legs

of strangers and say why not 

let them have whatever

they get out of it

under the shadows are more

shadows and under those shadows

is nothing

I have my work to do

inventing new memories

and keeping verbs in the proper mood

somebody has to

and if I walk my defeated secrets

like a dog what’s that to you

who left by way of the mirror

still believing that rain shows mercy

when how many times did I tell you

the fireflies are naked and cold

in the rags of their light.

— Richard Shelton, The New Yorker, April 5, 1969 issue