Can it really be Tuesday? I had a draft begun for Friday, and never finished it.
I'm not feeling any the wiser today than last week. I started a new Pilates session today, and had three new people in my beginner class. That's always nice, and it's challenging, especially when everyone is at different levels. I'm very thankful to have that class, so that my beginners don't have to try to catch up to the intermediate folks who've been with me for the past 5 or 6 years, or however long I've been teaching. I love it when people get something out of class, and love seeing the same faces again and again.
And I'm not feeling very successful at navigating the strange new twists and turns my body is going in. I wish it would tell me; I don't seem to be able to translate each tweak and size and roadblock. Do I speak obtusely? Intentionally so.
Never mind a body that's trying on a few more years. I'm also trying to rekindle my writing drive. Born in the sign of fishes, I flit from eddy to eddy, am easily distracted. Procrastination? Sure.
Sunday we had a guest celebrant at Grace Church. She began by giving a brief but rich synopsis of the movie Babette's Feast (one of my all-time favorites), and then moved into the hard reality that is Haiti right now. She paused in her speaking to allow the laity to pass around copied photos from the New York Times cover showing close-up and intimate the faces of those looking for food, and finding out there wasn't any left.
I can't find the photo just yet, but will try to post it as soon as I do.
TBC. . .