Magic: 10.14.2013

I was having a bad day. I mean a really bad day. It started by waking up at 3am from a nightmare. In the dream there was an evil government takeover. It was up to me to save the world. All by my lonesome. I was scared, but there was no one else to do the job. So I summoned up my strength and gave it my best shot. But I got caught. The new regime didn't take kindly to those who believed in things like peace, love, a healthy planet and a colorful world. The dream was all shades of gray and sanitized stainless steel. I was put in a torture chamber where they hooked up wires to both of my temples. They were targeting my brain. They kept turning up the electricity. The pressure and pain was mounting between my ears. I couldn't take it anymore. My skull was going to explode! I started to scream...one long scream originating deep in my belly and gathering momentum as it rose up and then out my vocal chords. This is how I woke up. I had only been asleep for 2 hours. I still had the whole night ahead and I was afraid to shut my eyes again. Finally, I did. Tossing and turning, I fell back to sleep. But when morning came, I was exhausted. I awoke with a metallic taste in my mouth and a heaviness in my chest. 

I made my usual coffee in the stovetop espresso. But before it made it to my cup, it landed all over the stove. Sometimes it is difficult to make coffee before having coffee. Especially when the weight of saving the world is on your already tight shoulders.

Yoga. That will help. But because I had to make a second stovetop espresso I was behind schedule. I hate being late for yoga. It conjures up a time in California when I arrived after a class had started. I felt terrible and terribly self-conscious as the instructor stopped class and waited for me to get situated.  She then said in a sickly sweet voice, "Rushing is a form of violence." And then it was back to inhale....exhale....downward (in the)dog(house). Here, my yoga teacher just greets me in his normal voice and makes sure there is space to put my mat down. But I still feel badly about coming in late. This day I was already out of sorts in mind and body and it was one of the rare times I left feeling more sore and crickety than when I came in. Sigh.

I stopped at my PO Box to get my mail. Bills and a disturbing, worrisome letter. One where I couldn't help but wonder if I am a good enough human being. Ugh. I think I'll move to Australia. That last sentence is actually a reference to a book. A very important one in my lexicon. Anyone out there in 'blogland' know what it is? Maybe I'll tell you at the end of this piece, but it will be written backwards or upsidedown or in code. Maybe I will offer a prize if you answer correctly in the blog comments. Or maybe I will let it remain a mystery. But I digress. Back to my bad day. I mean my really bad day.

Well, actually, it was looking up. If there is one thing that can lift my spirits it's German wheel. I was going to meet my training partner at the high school gym in Wilmington. Since she works there, we are able to train on off hours. I had just enough time to stop at home and grab a very quick something to eat. But somehow my quick something turned into a longer-than-expected something. Scheiße! I had to leave NOW!

Wilmington is twenty miles west of Brattleboro, up and over Hogback mountain. It's a beautiful drive but I was too worried about being late, worried if I was a compassionate enough human being, worried about the drought of paid work and my upcoming bills, worried about my aging parents on the other side of the country, worried if I have been a good enough daughter, worried I was chasing an illusory dream that would never come to fruition, worried about the consequences and that no one ever thinks about Fukashima or the BP oil disaster, worried I'll never find love again, worried that my nightmare was really a premonition of things to come, worried about getting old and ending up alone, worried that I am worrying too much and not living life, worried at my contribution to global climate change as I chugged up and over the mountain--all that beauty rushing past me and my monkey mind. And then I was worried about something more immediate. The flashing lights behind me.

That was it. I was defeated. But in a last ditch effort I said a prayer. Please, please please...for once give me a break. I can not afford a ticket right now. I mean I really can't. Not too long ago a friend on Facebook posted (boasted?) how she always is able to talk her way out of tickets. She's never been written up despite all the times she's been pulled over. I can do that, right? And I did say a prayer?

The officer was young. It was the same rigmarole. Despite my feeling of doom I tried to be positive, cooperative and friendly. I was beaming subliminal messages to him. Have pity on me!!! But of course it didn't work. He wrote me up. When he handed me the ticket and I saw how much it was for, I just started crying. Uncontrollably. He hovered outside my window.
"Ma'am, are you Ok?"
I bristled at Ma'am. I know it's irrational, but it just makes me feel a thousand years old.
"I'm...just...having   a......bad   day."
I'm trying to talk but it's coming out in gulps of tearful breaths.
"A really baaaaaaaad daaaay...." (Sobbing ensues).
Pause. Silence. Except for my crying, shaking body.
"Well I don't mean to add to it."
I can't believe he is saying that. For a micro-second there is hope. He'll take the ticket back and rip it up in front of my eyes. My prayer answered. A break! I will drive the speed limit from now on. I will appreciate the beauty passing by my car window.
But instead he gets stern and tells me to pull myself together before driving and then leaves.

I am really late now. But all I can do is sit in the car and cry. I finally do pull myself together and finish the last leg to the high school. When I walk in I am a wreck. I'm sobbing and apologizing and crying and explaining. And I really do feel defeated. No fight left inside. It's as if all the doubts and fears and failures I've been trying to keep at bay have burst the dam. My training partner, Jobi, just hugs me. I finally quiet down. She puts my wheel together while I sit in the corner and play my ukelele. It's the only thing that seems to comfort me in the moment. I feel too fragile to get on the wheel. I don't want to get injured.

Finally I feel ready to practice. I'm extra careful. And just do what I can. I start to feel better. My 'rock to standing up on top of the wheel' goes well. With German wheel it is all about timing, technique and feeling the movement, being in concert with the apparatus. Jobi is there to spot me. Each time I repeat the move and lift myself to the top, I feel my spirits rise.

I am not a wreck when we are done. I dismantle the wheel and put it in my car. We are ready to go but decide to use the bathroom before leaving. I go into the stall. It's my habit to check the toilet seat as I really prefer to sit on a dry surface. I take some TP and wipe it down. I sit. I pee. I think about the turn of events. I think about how grateful I am to have a supportive friend. That although I have felt miserably alone at times and far away from friends and family on the West coast, I do have people around me, here, who care about me. I don't have to shoulder everything alone. I'm strong, but there is another strength. A strength in being able to receive. I don't have to torture myself.

I turn around to flush the toilet and do a double-take. On the toilet seat is a bright, shiny penny. I just blink my eyes and stare at it. Whaaat? How did that get there? I know it wasn't there before. Jobi is in the next stall.

"Ummm, Jobi? Something weird just happened."
I tell her. She doesn't seem too fazed by it. I am though. That penny was definitely not there before!!!!!  She just says matter-of-factly, "Well, maybe it means your luck is changing."
As I wash my hands I am still perplexed.

Outside we hug goodbye and she leaves. It's a warm day and my window is down. When I open the door there is a piece of paper on my seat. What is it with things appearing on seats today? I pick it up and it is a check. A check for half the amount of my speeding ticket. I just stare at it as tears well up in my eyes. I can't believe it. I am completely overcome by this act of kindness and generosity. This feeling that I am not alone in my struggles. This gesture is priceless. But I can't take her money. I call Jobi on her cell. I try to give it back. But she won't allow it. "Well," I tell her, "at least you should keep this lucky penny. I'll save it for you." I offer it before I realize she may not want a shiny penny that my heinie sat on.

The whole way home I drive the speed limit. Cars are passing me like crazy but I don't care. I take in the natural beauty. I even stop at the overlook...the Green Mountains stretching for miles and miles. I breathe in. I breathe out. Nothing has changed and everything has changed. My heart is cracked open. One person can make a difference. Today the world saved me.




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