Bamboo grove at Straw Valley
"Good morning," said Ms Wonder wafting onto the screened porch like a Spanish galleon under full sail.
"Is it?"
"Very clement," said said with a big smile and I understood that she was trying to cheer and uplift but I was having none of it.
"It matters little," I said, "when facing a trial by fire that you've got a nice day for it."
"No, I suppose not," she said.
"The sun was probably shining when the 600 rode into the Russian gunfire," I said.
"The Light Brigade," she said. I nodded.
"Not feeling up to kicking off a new meditation class this morning?" she said.
"The true nature of reality, Ms. Wonder," I said, "in forming a new meditation class is this: three kinds of people turn out. The first are people who have no idea what meditation is about but think they do. The second are those who have meditated so much their eyes bubble. The third type is the kind you hoped would show up but, and this is the salient point, there are never enough of them. It gives me hives just to think of it."
"Sorry," she said with an acceptable pout.
"It's like that guy that Shakespeare used to write about."
"Hamlet?"
"No, not that one. It had something to do with making a decision and then before the thing gets done, deciding to give it a miss."
"The genius and the mortal instruments," she said but I wasn't in the mood for it. I held up a hand.
"Like to a little kingdom suffers then the nature of an insurrection," she said and I held up another hand.
"Poopsie! Please. Put a sock in it." No one likes to have Shakespeare quoted at them first thing in the morning.
"Is it?"
"Very clement," said said with a big smile and I understood that she was trying to cheer and uplift but I was having none of it.
"It matters little," I said, "when facing a trial by fire that you've got a nice day for it."
"No, I suppose not," she said.
"The sun was probably shining when the 600 rode into the Russian gunfire," I said.
"The Light Brigade," she said. I nodded.
"Not feeling up to kicking off a new meditation class this morning?" she said.
"The true nature of reality, Ms. Wonder," I said, "in forming a new meditation class is this: three kinds of people turn out. The first are people who have no idea what meditation is about but think they do. The second are those who have meditated so much their eyes bubble. The third type is the kind you hoped would show up but, and this is the salient point, there are never enough of them. It gives me hives just to think of it."
"Sorry," she said with an acceptable pout.
"It's like that guy that Shakespeare used to write about."
"Hamlet?"
"No, not that one. It had something to do with making a decision and then before the thing gets done, deciding to give it a miss."
"The genius and the mortal instruments," she said but I wasn't in the mood for it. I held up a hand.
"Like to a little kingdom suffers then the nature of an insurrection," she said and I held up another hand.
"Poopsie! Please. Put a sock in it." No one likes to have Shakespeare quoted at them first thing in the morning.
I pondered the mystery deeply as I pushed along toward Straw Valley to meet the members of the new class. The weather continued fine and there was a White-breasted Nuthatch singing in the shrubbery near the side gate when I approached the courtyard. No reason not to sing, of course. Sing until the ribs squeak if it suits you. I just mention it in passing.
Entering the east gate, I heard voices and realized that I was not the first to arrive. I found them enjoying coffee in the courtyard. These few turned out to be the kind that one likes to find in the early going of a meditation group--they were new to the practice but where generally familiar with the health benefits.
At some point, I mentioned that we would practice qigong in the class as part of the movement meditation and this seemed to pique their interest.
"Is there a class here this morning?" asked the bearded one who looked as though he might breed Aberdeen terriers. I assured him that it was the case.
"Let's join in," said the female in the group and they all thought this a sound suggestion. In fact, they seemed to be eager to begin.
It being the appointed hour, I provided the short set of instructions, asked a question or two and then rang the bell. I focused my attention on breathing, and with the third breath, the scales fell from my eyes. I saw that my fretful expectations had not materialized and that instead there was a mysterious kind of satisfaction in knowing that my life experiences might benefit someone else in their time of need.
That morning, one that is now long past, was a turning point for me. You know how it is, one thing led to another and now I'm writing a book about living fiercely.
"It pains me to admit," I explained to Ms Wonder, long after the thing was over and I had shaken the dust of my feet, "that the whole affair has the stamp of a Great Aunt all over it."
"How do you mean," she said.
"Oh, you know how aunts have a way of getting you to do whatever it is they want you to do, even though it's not on your schedule?"
"I suppose so."
"My qigong master, Wen the Eternally Surprised, used to say that the universe is conscious and that she is looking out for my best interests."
"Ah," said Ms Wonder.
"And it's hard to see how the universe has everything in control when it seems like life is just one damned thing after another."
"I'm not sure I understand," she said.
"That's my point," I said, "I'm not sure I understand either."