Wide Stance, Shoulders Apart

That's what my dance teacher was saying, there, in front of the room, the other night, as we stretched and swayed to whatever cerebrally soothing and yet exotic music was playing. What I heard was "White sand, children of the park."

It was funny (everyone laughed when I told them), poetic, but a little frightening. Why would my brain make that up? Was I just tired?

Earlier that day I had heard a sad story about a young and very accomplished man who was dying of an inoperable brain tumor. My friend who was telling me the story, added, almost as an afterthought, "And he's lost his languages." (The young man had known two or three languages in addition to English and had been a translator.) I asked, thinking of my brother, who has lost his speech entirely after a stroke, "Does he still have English?" My friend said yes.

I think my brain was trying to imagine what it would be like to not have English anymore. Or not to have words make sense when you hear them. Could that be? Or was I just tired?

Earlier the same evening, I had stopped on the way to dance class at a sports-clothing store to buy something that I needed for class and that I had to try on. I asked the store employee where the dressing room was. I heard "Downstairs and to the left." I wandered down the stairs and opened a door that seemed to lead to a big storeroom. I yelled up the stairs, "You mean this room with all the shoes on the shelf?" She appeared at the landing, looking puzzled, and said, "No, it's upstairs and to the left."

Oh.

I climbed up the two short flights to the upstairs part of the store, where two other employees were lounging. They grinned at me. I said, "I'm wearing my contacts and I'm not used to them."

I guess I was tired.

Now, two nights later, I am half-listening to the Mets game in the other room. It's the 8th inning, game still tied. The last game of the National League Championship series. By the time anyone reads this, we will know if the Mets or the Cards are in the World Series. But I don't know yet. That's kind of strange to think about.

It's So Late, You Could Almost Call it Early

As often happens, insomnia seems to pull me back to this venue. I have been away from blogging for a little bit, immersed in my life, working too hard. It's going on four a.m. on a Saturday night, and I'm not sure why I'm not sleeping.

Well, there was the teeniest little nap earlier.

I will report that I have discovered that iyengar yoga is indeed much stiller, much slower than the vinyasa class I usually take. You hold the poses longer (although not as long as in my dream.) Also, you ease into them more gradually.

Today I went back to the vinyasa class, and it seemed speeded up, and a little more difficult than usual, especially at first. But then I got used to the rhythm of it, moving through the poses, working up a little heat, my arms finding their strength. I think I can make room for both types of yoga in my life.

Now, if I could only make some room for sleep. . . .