Magic Happens

I don't know if you're familiar with the story of Mrs Lot and her rather fantastic finish? If so, you may want to skip to the next paragraph. However, if the name doesn't ring a bell, then here's the gist:

The unfortunate woman was the victim of history's worst practical joke. We must assume it was a practical joke because the story, as it's recorded leaves room for doubt. We do know that when told by her companions, 'Don't look now...', what do you think she did? Of course, she did look. Don't we all when told not to? 

The courtyard of Straw Valley

That much of the story isn't so fantastical but now we come to the punchline. When she looked, by some odd coincidence, according to my sources, (you aren't going to believe it), she turned into a pillar of salt! I know! Who'd have guessed? Salt!

The reason I mention it here is that a very similar thing happened to me this morning when Ms Wonder told me to let the Straw Valley thing go. You remember that I hoped to teach public qigong classes at that jewel of venues until I bobbled a reply to the event planner.

At any rate, while revisiting some old emails, I found an unopened missive from that same organizer. Reading from left to right, it said, 'I'd like to set up a day and time to talk.' 

Well, if you've been following along, you know how much I wanted this gig so it should not surprise you that I sat frozen with the smartphone in my hands like one of those peasants, who talk back to a wizard and--presto!--they turn into a pillar of salt, or something. Forgive me if I misalign some of the details.

And so this very morning I found myself walking into the courtyard of Straw Valley with an appointment to review the space with the planner. At the very moment I entered the coffee bar, I saw her walking my way and, I thought it very auspicious that she wore a smile.

It's moments like this that you find the Genome at his best--ice cold brain working like a Swiss army knife. Nothing creates so unfortunate a first impression as the hesitant utterance and the shifting from one foot to another like a south-side Fred Astaire. But I was up for it. I'd found the middle way. I'm sure, considering this and that, it must have been not unlike the Buddha.

As soon as she began to speak, I realized that this young woman created her own future, making things happen by sheer force of will. I quickly gave up control and simply allowed it all to happen. We agreed to begin with Sunday morning classes as soon as the new year could get here. I hoped it wouldn't be delayed by some unforeseen solstice nonsense.

I was deep into the moment, allowing the Universe to work its magic, and as I slowly emerged from the void, I heard her say something about making the deadline for the Indy newspaper and then she was gone with the wind. A sharp cry of joy escaped my lips. 

The sun, once hidden behind a gray veil, came shooting out like a startled rabbit, rolled up his sleeves, and got down to some serious shining. Birds in the shrubbery sang in four-part harmony, five probably, and I saw the world through a pink mist.

I knew it would be a perfect day when the barista swirled a heart into the foam of my morning latte. 

Almost Is Not Enough

It was early morning on the day of the first 9:30 am meditation class that I was to lead at Straw Valley. I'd worked hard for this slot and had every reason to be happy with myself but I wasn't. Instead, I was filled with a nameless dread. I feared that the students would object to the earlier starting time and not be there when the class began. 

We Genomes are men of steel, ask anyone, and yet sometimes, strangely, we struggle to maintain the stiff upper lip.

"Poopsie, I'm not the merry old self this morning," I said.

"Really?"

"Nope. Far from it."

"I'm sorry to hear it," she said.

"But why, is what I ask myself," I said.

"I couldn't say," she said and for the first time since the conversation began, I noticed that she was devoting all her attention to Eddy. I began to wonder if this was the time for playing with kittens. A little more of the rally-round spirit would have suited me.

"It could be that Princess Amy is messing around with the lipid cocktail again." I said, "Or it could be that I'm worried about a gang of students showing up at 10:00 and when they learn that I'm halfway through the meditation portion of the program, they begin throwing chairs around and trampling through the bamboo grove."

"You mean to say halfway through the meditation class," she said.

"What did I say?"

"You said meditation portion."

"That's what I meant to say," I said. "I wonder why Princess Amy gives me such a hard time? After all, we're technically one and the same."

"Difficult to say," she said.

This Amy I speak of always has something sinister in mind for me. And it isn't like I stiffen the neck and kick about it. I usually go along with just about everything she asks--living life on life's terms and all that. The only time I balk is when she starts ladling out that not-good-enough nonsense.

She loves to remind me that I was always missing the mark as a kid. I wasn't a very good student, always preferring the outdoors to the classroom. I wasn't a good athlete, always being the last kid chosen for the team. I was smaller than the average and I learned quite early that staying away from the ball was a really good survival technique.

"I have to leave now," said Ms. Wonder, "I've got to hang that art exhibit."

"Yes, I remember," I said, "And when does it come down?"

"End of the year," she said. "It's like you always say."

"What is?"

"The art exhibit," she said, "It's like everything else--it arises, it abides for a moment, and then it passes away. Maybe your feelings of impending doom will be like that too."

It's amazing how prescient, this woman can be if prescient is the word I want, because half an hour into the meditation class, everyone was sitting quietly, listening to the bamboo leaves rustling in the breeze. Not a single chair was bunged about nor a single drop of blood spilled. I remember thinking how odd it was.

After repeating the goodbyes and passing around the happy endings, I remembered something Ms. Wonder often says, "Our anxious anticipation of future events is almost always worse than what actually happens."

I don't know where she gets these things but I'm sure she has a million of them. And like most of them, this particular one is a good thing to keep in mind. Not that it completely calms the anxious mind but it helps. 

The shortcoming of course, which I'm sure you caught right away, is that annoying little word, almost.

Know Your Limits

It is true that I once pitched the idea of an online Qigong for Seniors class to my followers on Instagram, and the suggestion was received warmly. But I didn't do the pitching with any real chirpiness. 

So when Ms. Wonder suggested revisiting the idea as a palliative for losing the Straw Valley opportunity, I opened the door and invited the idea to make itself at home. It's a technique I learned from the Sufi poet, Rumi. No, it's more accurate to say that I learned it from Wonder and she learned it from Rumi.   

The lack of chirpiness continues to hold me back, and it will come as no surprise that it's affecting my sleep. I'm up late, avoiding the thoughts that will fill my mind as soon as I place my head on the pillow. Then I'm up with the dawn and I seem to repeat the day that ended the night before. It's like that movie, Groundhog Day.

When day broke this morning I bunged a half-dozen cats off the bed and entered the master bath to find the tub occupied with a female form covered in bubbles with what seemed like another dozen or so feline accomplices. The female proved to be Ms. Wonder. (Wonder assures me that the house isn't chock-a-block with cats--more or less the normal allotment according to her--but I'm not buying it. You can't find a comfy spot near any window that isn't running over with cats.

"Oh, you startled me," she said.

"Not like you startled me," I said. "The top of my head nearly came off. I mistook you for Gina Lollobrigida."

"Who?"

"Never mind," I said. "Probably before you discovered your toes. What I came here to announce is," I paused here for effect, if that's the word, and then I let it go, "I do what I like now." 

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I just don't have enough time to do everything."

"You came to bed late," she said, changing the subject abruptly. I thought of making an issue of it, and I'm sure I'm right on this point, that Napoleon would have made an issue of it. But after second thoughts, I gave it a miss.

"Went for a walk in the garden," I said.

"Good for you," she said, "the garden is at its nicest late in the evening. Soothing."

"That's your view, is it?" I said, meaning it to sting.

"And the stars," she said.

"What about the stars?"

"You know," she said. "Look how the floor of heaven is thick inlaid..."

I waved a hand, realizing that we were dangerously close to poetry and a heightened risk of hearing about young-eyed cherubims and the kind of harmony that exists in immortal souls, and I felt that something must be done quickly to prevent it.

"Ms. Wonder," I said.

"How does it go?" she asked, although I knew it wasn't really a question. She continued without pausing, "the smallest orb in his motion like an angel sings..."

"Wonder Woman!"

"Such harmony is in immortal souls..."

"Poopsie!" 

"What?"

"You couldn't possibly put it aside, could you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "Not in the mood for poetry then?"

"Is anyone ever?" I said. "And before we move on, let me point out that here again is another example of Shakespeare simply slapping down any old thing that comes into his head. Cherubims! The man was looney to the eyebrows!'

"It's not Shakespeare," she said.

"Well, I'm surprised it isn't. I'll bet that someone had to get up pretty early in the morning to come up with something that Shakespeare hadn't already written."

"You get up pretty early in the morning," she said.

"What of it?" I said. 

"Just saying," she said. "Have you made any progress on how you hope to spend the next chapter of your life?"

"Yes, I have," I said. "I've ruled out a number of things." And with that, I made a masterful dash for the door.  One thing about the Genomes is that we may be men of cold steel but we know when we're in over our heads, and I may not have the quickest mind in the village but I could tell that Wonder was about to make another of her suggestions that cause the earth to tremble and grown me to cry.

God Love A Gazelle

"Ms Wonder," I said, getting right down to it, as I'm sure you know is the Genome way. "The aunt's curse has come upon me, as I warned you it would, if ever I visited the Cove, and I did visit the damned place, only to support a favorite cousin in her hour of need. And what's the upshot? I'll tell you what--my little qigong nest is shredded."

"What are you driveling about?" she said. Not the correct response, as I'm sure you agree, but I let it go. Best to avoid side issues. There are times when staying on topic is the best course of action, or else you risk ending up in the ditch. I've been in the ditch and I don't care for it.

"I'll tell you what I'm driveling about," I said. "My plans to teach a public qigong class at Straw Valley has been kiboshed for the rest of the year--that's what."

"I don't see how visiting the Cove has anything to do with classes at Straw Valley," she said. "Besides COVID19 has ruled that out anyway."

"That's just it," I said. "I'd think the cause and effect were perfectly clear. You know the basics of course. I went to the cove for an afternoon and got dragged into that ranygazoo over Gwyn's ring. The upshot of it all was that I got quarantined in my room at the inn just before the pandemic hit. Surely you remember the details.

"I remember that you were caught looking for a mouse in the fishing guide's room?" she said.

I gave her a look--one that was meant to sting.

"Ms. Wonder," I said, pacing my words, "you know perfectly well that I was not looking for a mouse. I was looking for that damned ring, at Gwyn's insistence. I've admitted that the mouse story wasn't one of my best but it's not easy to come up with zinger when you're caught bending by Constable Vickie Mason."

She began waving me off with a raised hand and I found myself questioning the loyalty of this better-or-for-worser.

"What does all this have to do with qigong classes at Straw Valley?"

I drew myself up to my full height in response to all that hand waving and questioning.

"Due to my staying an evening longer than planned...," I began.

"Until you climbed down the water pipe the next morning," she said.

Now I raised a hand but I didn't wave it about. I had the feeling that she was not entirely in sympathetic harmony with the Genome and I thought it best to cut her remarks short. Besides, we seemed to be going into side issues again. After all, what do water pipes have to do with the topic at hand?

"The delay caused me to miss my appointment with the new managers at Straw Valley and, by the time I got home, we were under stay-at-home guidelines and Straw Valley was closed for business. Now, given the current state of affairs, my plans to add a public qigong class this year are in smoldering ruins."

"Have you thought of offering a qigong class online using Zoom?" she asked, and I was beginning to note a more compassionate timbre in her voice.

"Zoom?," I said. "Hmmm," I said as I turned it over in the coconut. "Hmmmm."

"I'll leave you to think about it," she said as she walked out of the room.

"Yes, do," I said, "and don't say anything about this to The Aunts. You know how they like to get involved."

"You can count on me," she said.

"Hmmm," I said.

"Oh," she said as her head appeared once more in the doorway.

"I thought you were gone," I said.

"Me too," she said. "But I have just one question. Why does this conversation come with a picture of a gazelle?"

"Simple," I said. "We studied a poet in that school of mine who said that every time he comes to love a gazelle--or words to that effect--he losses it. And losing the gig at Straw Valley makes me feel like I'm one gazelle short."

"I see," she said. But I'm not all sure that she did see. Still, it was nice of her to say it.