An altogether gentler day today. I slept until I woke, ate crumpets with butter and a little bit of honey, gathered myself and whizzed off to the pond. Oh, that water. Oh, that beautiful place. It doesn't ever become dull. Today, again, the frost made the hillsides glisten. Some of it had melted by the time I got there, but the ice on the steps was still treacherous and the crystals on the buoys like little cities. The water had only dropped by a degree or so, if that. I swam into sunlight and let myself be blinded. I stayed in a little bit too long. I just wanted to be peaceful. I was very grateful for my socks and gloves, for allowing me to do that.
A lady in the changing rooms said I looked very serene. I felt it, for that moment. Very calm. Very soft. Very alive.
I cried this morning reading an article in the Saturday Guardian. About a woman whose life changed. That's what did it. The why hardly matters. It was that fact that took me by the throat. She was doing things she'd never even dreamed of, because she happened to be somewhere at a certain time, and something bad happened and WHOOSH - now her life is different, in amazing ways. It was heartwarming (that's why I usually cry) and moving.
I cried yesterday for different reasons. Tiredness. Disappointment. Confusion. Almost mourning, in an odd sense. Not as serious as mourning a death, but saying goodbye, in a way. This morning, I am genuinely grateful. Last night, not quite yet.
What's it all about? Well, partly the predictable sight of my yoga crush with his beautiful lover but not before he'd spent a fair moment flirting openly with me, asking if I was single, complimenting me, teasing me. Playfully. Directly. Without mentioning his girlfriend. The girlfriend, I expected. Not the flirting.
That's disappointing. Not just because I might feel a little hurt - I can cope with that - but because it tells me that this man is not what I had told myself he was. I got it wrong. Girlfriend or not, I have to say goodbye, even to the idea. And you know what? I knew that already really. I just wouldn't let it in.
But even more than that, what disappointed me was this: at the end of a delicious day of DIY and happily given hours, we had a 'show' to thank us, to give us a little treat. My instinct said 'leave before it'. Listen. LISTEN! I stayed.
The first 'treat'. A melon-breasted lady, no bra, nipples like babies' fists, in high heels (what about the new bamboo flooring? We spent all day on that!), a thong and a see-through turquoise dress danced out, gyrating, touching her breasts, her hair, looking coquettishly into the crowd. After rubbing herself up and down the wall for a bit, she pulled a man out of the crowd and lap-danced for him. For about 5 minutes (felt like longer). Great. Thanks. The next 'act' was a striptease. Wonderful. There was rapturous applause.
Well done, yoga school. Well done. Thank you. My day of karma yoga is complete. Just what I needed to round off a day of hard work, meditation, sharing food and labour. Of course. A soft porn display. I'm sure it's written somewhere in the Bhagavad Gita that all days of karma yoga should end this way.
So my disappointment, my sorrow, even, is simply that mis-match. A day spent enjoying the community, feeling accepted and useful, and, if only on the edges, part of something. Only to find that (and this I knew already too, but didn't want to see) I don't want to be part of that. I can enjoy the yoga for a while, but in the end, this terribly masculine version of what femininity ought to be will get in the way.
The asanas are wonderful. The spiritual teachings too. And I thought the tantra might be a good, useful, healing thing too, but not like this. No. That's not connecting, honouring, sharing, being equal? That's women waving their tits and arses about for men. Where does that fit? Where were the male dancers? Or men doing press-ups, or whatever the 'accepted' version of a male display would be? Not even that. Come ON. Come on.
Memory's a funny thing, isn't it. Yesterday, despite the majority of the day being just lovely, I was sad for this last bit and what it meant. Even this morning, I found hot, frustrated tears pushing their way out. The good bits faded, because the bad bits came later. There's a really interesting TED talk by a surgeon about this very phenomenon.
http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/daniel_kahneman_the_riddle_of_experience_vs_memory.html
How experience and memory are two different things, and their effects. The bit about doing EXTRA surgery on people, on extending their procedures, to make sure the painful bit is not last (even if it normally would be) is fascinating.
Today, thanks to sense and honesty and wisdom from Catherine Semark, and half a pint of hot milk (that made her retch, and soothed me, in equal measure), I can be genuinely grateful for this knowledge, and for good friends. And I can remember the lovely conversations I had, the extra coloured paint spots I earnt (great colours - orange, cerise and green), all the little gifts. Opportunities, doors opened, connections made.
I had some fairly deep conversations with some people, and there was so much laughing. I felt on form, easy, happy. I smiled most of the day. I loved feeling useful and part of this. None of that is wasted. None. It's all a blueprint for experiences that I want to invite more an more into my life.
I ache for a sense of community and when I find it, I thrive. I miss it, from the times when I had it - Samaritans, Esalen, every job I've ever had, especially Hasbro. I value it, in smaller doses, at the pond and at The Hub. I know it does me good and I know I can have it. And I know that I will have it, but not at the cost of what I think is healthy, happy, good.
Thank you, this evening, for a haggisy, swedey feast with Ruth (and our conversation the night before). Oh, those morsels of dirty meat. Oh, lungs! Oh, offal! It's all pepper and texture. Just fabulous. And such good company to eat it with.
And a facebook conversation with a stranger which ending in him naming my phone for me. Ossi Kretzki. A fine, proud name for a handset, if ever I heard one. Thank you. I'll keep it!
New plans already. And now... it's time for bed.
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