khasta (tired)
Profound question of the day:
...Have you ever experienced falling into a washing machine, realizing that other confused people have fallen into that same washing machine, then the cycle gets set on high so that you bump into each other, you're let out after an hour and made to drink ten cups of coffee, do cartwheels, and then walk a straight line? And balance a pitcher of water or ale on your head?
Yes you have! Either when you have a fever, or when you're a frosh in college. Or both.
I went into Seymour Center sounding like a lovesick cat yesterday. My voice had dropped in octave and was lacking in meter. Michelle still had me lead a tour, and with an apprentice shadowing me. I got the quietest group ever. No reaction, none at all, to my descriptions. No laughter, even. I was a little worried and tried to pep up my presentation a little more. No luck. Afterwards, the apprentice said I did a great job. I responded less than enthusiastically to his praise. I nearly conked out sitting on top of the dryer, waiting for the seawater table towels to dry. Kinda funny - I kept on waking up when my head would loll. When it was done, I folded the towels - quite literally - feverishly.
//[Added in, at 11:46:] Ask, and nature shall answer. A beautifully graceful Monach butterfly just flew lightly over my head, shining in the sunlight of the Garden. Yesterday, while I was at Seymour, I was standing in the volunteer office when I realized how cold I felt. I happened to look down and noticed that there was a volunteer Lost-and-Found in one of the black cabinets. Ten second later, I was pulling out my tan-black-and-white cap, the one I thought I'd lost all those months ago. It smelled good, like February. I am extremely grateful to have found it again.//
Upon arriving home, I switched my laundry to the dryer, and walking back I ran into the white cat who visits from the Farm. I was in a pretty docile mood, childlike, so I picked up the kitty and walked back to the Garden with her. I sat for a while, as the sunlight was dying into darkness, and petted her. Her fur shone luminous, fluffy white, and she smelled good. It has been a long time since I held a cat.
She was very attentive to the Garden's noises. I let her go, and she sat still for a while. Finally I put her back by the road, but she walked around the B-Quad for a while. Oh, how I wish we were allowed cats!
When the meeting started, with eight of us present, Mike asked me if I had an agenda. I said, "Not really. I don't think I'm leading the meeting." So it begins; the PICAns must decide for themselves the reasons for being present. Richard asked a question: is there enough work getting done in the compost and Garden? Mike and I were grateful to answer that question and enlist the help of the others. Richard then said that we should appeal to the seminar students to be as involved as possible; we're going to need help. As it is, the seminar is contributing more to the welfare of the Garden and compost than the residents.
Megan came then, with a pan of lasagne and garlic bread. She cut up the lasagne into twelve pieces, and then Billy set to work serving everyone. We sat down to eat - some had already started - some were still wandering around. Only half the room managed to hear the blessing of food and cook before we began: "Buen provecho. Bon appetit!!" After we'd eaten a little, Megan and Richard spoke of respect for food, of having that little ritual before each meal. Then we made a list of bulk-buying, when we manage to go to the Kresge Food Co-op.
After that rewarding meeting, I went home and fell asleep, awakening at 3A.M. due to a terrible nightmare. I went to B2's hallway and started falling asleep when Billy came out to use the restroom. He was greatly concerned, especially since he'd thought I was Megan, and came back out to give me a pillow moments later. Then, this morning at 7:15A.M., Megan woke me walking by. She, too, was concerned; she told me that I can always knock on her door, no matter what hour it is. I'm moved by their kindness.
I set out early for Aikido, appreciating the short busride for what it was. Upon arriving, I lay down on the mat and stared at the ceiling. Yoshi-sensei, upon learning of my condition, advised me to open my third eye. Beginning training ...training seems to be a lot easier when I am both sick and tired: I just don't have the energy to resist anyone. Someone attacks ...you're like, "eh, get off me," and kinda drop your arms to one side. They just happen to wind up on the floor. That's it. I trained for a while with Bill, who is an impressive elderly student (I'd originally mistaken him for a sensei). He tells me that people become better at Aikido as they get older, because then they don't have any muscles. The more we practiced, the more I learned to relax. We wound up laughing about random things during our training, which I think helped.
When I joined a group with two other partners, I should have been thrilled at how well it worked. When it was my turn to drop them, I did it without the slightest effort, and more efficiently than either of them had. However, despite their praise at the end of our training, I could not have felt less enthusiastic. Too tired.
On the way back, I stopped at Marley's and my tree, with the little red fruits, then walked our old path down beneath Hagar. When I got back to the Garden, Jose told me that the plant is called Strawberry Tree - Arbutus unedo - and is, indeed, related to the madrone. He made my day. I couldn't have been happier.
...Have you ever experienced falling into a washing machine, realizing that other confused people have fallen into that same washing machine, then the cycle gets set on high so that you bump into each other, you're let out after an hour and made to drink ten cups of coffee, do cartwheels, and then walk a straight line? And balance a pitcher of water or ale on your head?
Yes you have! Either when you have a fever, or when you're a frosh in college. Or both.
I went into Seymour Center sounding like a lovesick cat yesterday. My voice had dropped in octave and was lacking in meter. Michelle still had me lead a tour, and with an apprentice shadowing me. I got the quietest group ever. No reaction, none at all, to my descriptions. No laughter, even. I was a little worried and tried to pep up my presentation a little more. No luck. Afterwards, the apprentice said I did a great job. I responded less than enthusiastically to his praise. I nearly conked out sitting on top of the dryer, waiting for the seawater table towels to dry. Kinda funny - I kept on waking up when my head would loll. When it was done, I folded the towels - quite literally - feverishly.
//[Added in, at 11:46:] Ask, and nature shall answer. A beautifully graceful Monach butterfly just flew lightly over my head, shining in the sunlight of the Garden. Yesterday, while I was at Seymour, I was standing in the volunteer office when I realized how cold I felt. I happened to look down and noticed that there was a volunteer Lost-and-Found in one of the black cabinets. Ten second later, I was pulling out my tan-black-and-white cap, the one I thought I'd lost all those months ago. It smelled good, like February. I am extremely grateful to have found it again.//
Upon arriving home, I switched my laundry to the dryer, and walking back I ran into the white cat who visits from the Farm. I was in a pretty docile mood, childlike, so I picked up the kitty and walked back to the Garden with her. I sat for a while, as the sunlight was dying into darkness, and petted her. Her fur shone luminous, fluffy white, and she smelled good. It has been a long time since I held a cat.
She was very attentive to the Garden's noises. I let her go, and she sat still for a while. Finally I put her back by the road, but she walked around the B-Quad for a while. Oh, how I wish we were allowed cats!
When the meeting started, with eight of us present, Mike asked me if I had an agenda. I said, "Not really. I don't think I'm leading the meeting." So it begins; the PICAns must decide for themselves the reasons for being present. Richard asked a question: is there enough work getting done in the compost and Garden? Mike and I were grateful to answer that question and enlist the help of the others. Richard then said that we should appeal to the seminar students to be as involved as possible; we're going to need help. As it is, the seminar is contributing more to the welfare of the Garden and compost than the residents.
Megan came then, with a pan of lasagne and garlic bread. She cut up the lasagne into twelve pieces, and then Billy set to work serving everyone. We sat down to eat - some had already started - some were still wandering around. Only half the room managed to hear the blessing of food and cook before we began: "Buen provecho. Bon appetit!!" After we'd eaten a little, Megan and Richard spoke of respect for food, of having that little ritual before each meal. Then we made a list of bulk-buying, when we manage to go to the Kresge Food Co-op.
After that rewarding meeting, I went home and fell asleep, awakening at 3A.M. due to a terrible nightmare. I went to B2's hallway and started falling asleep when Billy came out to use the restroom. He was greatly concerned, especially since he'd thought I was Megan, and came back out to give me a pillow moments later. Then, this morning at 7:15A.M., Megan woke me walking by. She, too, was concerned; she told me that I can always knock on her door, no matter what hour it is. I'm moved by their kindness.
I set out early for Aikido, appreciating the short busride for what it was. Upon arriving, I lay down on the mat and stared at the ceiling. Yoshi-sensei, upon learning of my condition, advised me to open my third eye. Beginning training ...training seems to be a lot easier when I am both sick and tired: I just don't have the energy to resist anyone. Someone attacks ...you're like, "eh, get off me," and kinda drop your arms to one side. They just happen to wind up on the floor. That's it. I trained for a while with Bill, who is an impressive elderly student (I'd originally mistaken him for a sensei). He tells me that people become better at Aikido as they get older, because then they don't have any muscles. The more we practiced, the more I learned to relax. We wound up laughing about random things during our training, which I think helped.
When I joined a group with two other partners, I should have been thrilled at how well it worked. When it was my turn to drop them, I did it without the slightest effort, and more efficiently than either of them had. However, despite their praise at the end of our training, I could not have felt less enthusiastic. Too tired.
On the way back, I stopped at Marley's and my tree, with the little red fruits, then walked our old path down beneath Hagar. When I got back to the Garden, Jose told me that the plant is called Strawberry Tree - Arbutus unedo - and is, indeed, related to the madrone. He made my day. I couldn't have been happier.
posted by Yvea at 10:45 AM
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