"Poopsie, what's it like out?" I asked and immediately learned that I was right to assume that sounds of running water meant Ms Wonder was enjoying a dunk in a Volga tributary.
"Overcast and blustery," she said and I nodded--useless of course, as she was in the next room.
No, not a bad little morning, but life doesn't loiter underneath the coverlets. It moves fast and eventually one must face the reality of gray skies and coolish breezes.
The morning's meditation class was making it's last call before raising the curtain on today's performance. To drape myself in something loose and comfortable and flash from east to west along the southern corridor of Durham was for me the work of minutes.
Straw Valley was quiet. It was not expected to be a large class and expectations proved correct. I'd been notified by text and voicemail that about half the regular crew was otherwise engaged. No, not a large class but I didn't expect to be the only one there.
Now, as you know well, I have no sympathy for those who whine. I brook no thought of surrender and my motto, well you know my motto, "Life comes fast and hard--be ready for anything."
Still, I don't want to mislead you. I hate as much as anyone the sock behind the ear that Fate delivers when I'm not looking. I may howl and chew the carpet when alone but the Genome is eternally bright and cheerful in public.
When the light dims, I practice the three deep breaths, and with mindful clarity I am able to see reality. This mindful awareness has taught me that the most important gift in life is not enlightenment, nor is it joyful exuberance, and whatnot.
The most important gifts in life are Time and Place. And so, here was I with time for Fierce QiGong and a place for Fierce QiGong.
I entered the Zen garden and performed Wuji Swimming Dragon. Under the arbor, I did Parting the Clouds. In front of the art wall--Embracing Heaven and Earth. It was in the middle of this that a young man and woman entered the courtyard with laptops and coffee.
"Are you with the meditation class?" she said.
I admitted that I was the meditation class because she had caught me waving my arms around my head and it seem futile to deny it.
"Is that 'ki gong?' she said.
"Chi gung," I said because I always like to get it right.
"We were wondering about that," said the male half of the sketch.
"Wonder no more," I said, "just do what I do."
"Want to?" she said to him with eyes that sparkled like fireworks after a Durham Bull's game. Her smile to him was like the sun and he was her Chanticleer, ready to flap his wings and strut his stuff.
They joined me and we worked our way around the courtyard until we came to the cabanas where another couple, friends of the first, joined in our party.
"This isn't what I expected meditation to be," said the new woman.
"Ah," I said, for the Genome is quick and I knew exactly where she was headed with this comment. "We have a few minutes left. Let's go inside and I'll introduce you to zazen."
No sooner had we entered the back room of Sanderson House when I realized that the room was not as empty as I'd left it. Another couple was enjoying coffee and scones was surprised to see us. After a few pour parlers, they had joined us on the floor in front of one of the paintings, Pulled Orange Blue, by Andy Fleishman.'
And so with a little acceptance and willingness to live life on life's terms, we not only bucked up the immune systems and improved the cognitive abilities, we had a great Sunday morning in the Courtyard. Every day should be just so.