Good Luck with the Teaching Moments Today

Good luck with the teaching moments today.

I think every day is visited by, at the very least, one teaching moment. Whether we’re aware of them as such…

Sometimes, it’s a direct teaching moment born out of something you said or an action you took that contributed to a “more of what you want” or “more of what you don’t want” (by your personal standards) outcome. Sometimes, it’s an indirect teaching moment that you bear witness to involving someone you know or strangers.

In both cases, direct or indirect, may we really notice them as potential stewards of greater clarity regarding how we (the perceivers) consciously want to move through our inner and outer world.

Working on it. Cheering. You. On.

Practicing. Good luck to all those practicing, too. Cheering. You. On.

 

Seen on the Downtown 2 Train: Creative Expressions in a Shared Space

Mid-afternoon, after a doctor’s appointment in the city, I boarded the Downtown 2 Train headed for home.  The upshot of the appointment had me drafting a message on my phone so it took some time before I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, the fellow passenger making gestures in his seat.  Maybe he’s another orchestra conductor, I thought, not glancing over, the bulk of my attention still on my phone.

Years ago, on another train ride, and for the entirety of my trip, I’d observed another passenger nodding along with headphones on, gesturing in a manner associated with someone conducting an orchestra. 

When the passengers to his left made their exit, he moved down, leaving an empty seat between us.  Deciding to take a break from my writing, and curious about the gestures, I looked over.

He was dancing.  As much as one could dance in a subway seat.  Headphones on, clearly going through some hip hop influenced choreography, he was in the zone and really enjoying himself!  He didn’t even appear slowed down by his face mask!  At this time, in my part of the world, masks are still in place for folks taking public transportation.

His eyes were closed, his movements were gorgeous: the sharps were sharp, the fluids, so smooth, the pops-- you get the picture!  I was so drawn in and he was sitting down! Imagine how phenomenal it would be to see him dancing without the restrictions of being in a seat, in a subway car half-full of passengers, and in a space where he could do so without the face mask?!!  I loved that he felt comfortable enough to practice and appreciated how he honored the shared traveling space that was the subway train.  I was the closest to him and couldn’t hear the music from his headphones.  His movements adjusted to the physical space that he was literally inhabiting.  And while other passengers directly in our section could look at him if so inclined, he clearly didn’t set out to get our attention.  The experience of him was wonderful, and when he exited, I was still smiling behind my face mask.  

Turning my attention back to the message I was drafting, I made a few notes.  Then the singing started.  As someone who’d been in choir and taken voice lessons, I recognized the sound of a singer doing vocal warm ups.

Oh so casually, I looked back up. 

She had boarded through the same doors the dancer had exited and now sat on the end seat closest to her entry point.  Perhaps a deliberate choice? It was a seat without its kin located directly across the aisle from her.  Medium thick, wavy brown, shoulder length hair framed her features as she sang with one hand holding onto the front of her darkly colored face mask.  The cloth mask covered her nose and mouth, while her hold allowed just enough breathing room for singing quietly.   

Seconds after returning to my phone, her warm up transitioned into opera.  She had fabulous breath support, and even though she wasn’t singing full voice, she sounded beautiful.

Like the dancer before, she clearly wasn’t trying to draw the attention of others.  If anything, I’d bet she wished she had a rehearsal space in which to vocalize without inhibition.  But perhaps she was heading off to an audition and wanted to seize all opportunities to prep beforehand.  And again, like the dancer before, she, too, seemed to endeavor to make the best use of the space for her needs, while still honoring that it was a shared space.  The half-full subway car was relatively quiet, and the only time the singer increased in volume was during the occasional surges in the clanging and whining of the train’s machinery or the shifting of gears.

She exited long before I got off at the last stop of the line, but thoughts of her and the dancer, their creative expression and the way they energetically inhabited our shared space, still had me appreciating their presence during our brief time together.

 

Observation from earlier that made me smile

Crunchy brown leaves did cartwheels, flips, and twists, as a nanny wheeled a baby carriage by and its tiny occupant deliberately peered out, then, literally, self adjusted to get a better look at me where I sat on the park bench.

A little girl, maybe 5 or 6 years of age, with the carefree giggle that erupted into laughter and squeals when her guardian blew a whirlwind of bubbles in her direction.

This same party was later approached by a wandering, curious, sturdy legged toddler with male guardian (possibly father) in tow. Initially, this little one stood about four paces away, watching the unfolding bubble action. Then, at the other guardian’s invitation (let’s call her, the Keeper of the Bubbles), followed by added encouragement from the male guardian, the little one walked closer. The moment the Keeper of the Bubbles placed the bubble wand into the child’s hand, the latter, now with the wand outstretched, went statue-still. The adults, and even the little girl, could be heard giving instructions on how to use the wand to create bubbles. But still motionless, this little one seemed too young to understand. When the Keeper of the Bubbles took back the wand and blew some bubbles, the child unfroze, took a few steps, watched the bubbles with rapt attention, then steadily moved in the direction they’d drifted in.

I loved watching this little one explore. I’ve mentioned the sturdy, steady walking, but I bring it up again because the child looked so young and the execution was rather impeccable! I guess I’m used to seeing at least a wobble in the walking movement of children who appear this young.

I also loved how, even while fully engaged with encouragement and elaborating on things that seemed to catch the child’s fascination, the male guardian gave just enough physical and autonomous space that it felt like the perfect balance of love and trust and independence.

There’s also lots of love for the awesomeness of the Keeper of the Bubbles and the little girl who were so welcoming! And, I give a final shout out to the male guardian who, as he and his little one were leaving, expressed his appreciation to them for the time spent.

Pasta Dinner

I inhaled my pasta dinner. That first taste had me hooked and I only slowed down enough to revisit the taste with, maybe, every other forkful. Granted, I was hungry. But in the moment, my tastebuds clearly registered it as “good” and the overall experience as “great.” I have no regrets.

Two Observations at the BBG

Sharing two observations that made me smile at the botanical gardens earlier today.

 A toddler, with the high-stepping, flat-footed, arms-outstretched-for-balance gait they’re sometimes known for, was foiled in the attempt to escape being herded in a particular direction. This happened several times.   After the mini workout for both parties, the guardian picked up the toddler.   Last I looked, the child was seated in a stroller and appeared to be nodding off. 

Then there was the toddler wearing the white sun hat.  At first, I was fixated on the hat, wondering if it was a particular shade of white or whether all white sun hats for babies have always been that bright? Then I watched as this little one silently but deliberately succumbed to gravity every time the guardian tried to place her on her feet. Many attempts later, the guardian finally carried her to a wooden bench, settled down, and provided lap seating accommodations instead.  It appeared they both deemed this an acceptable compromise. 

Thinking Out Loud About Love

When I was younger, I loved to read.  When my family moved to the States and I discovered the elementary school library and, later, my first public library, it was heaven.

Books gave me a window into how people related.  I enjoyed the mysteries, the YAs, the romance novels. I wouldn’t realize until adulthood that as desirable as some of the relating and relationships were packaged, it didn’t mean they were healthy.  Alas, the literary diet of codependency— not to mention the additional calories consumed from certain music lyrics, television and movies— led me to leave myself behind in my first true romantic relationship (and, I dare say, non-romantic one’s, too).  Albeit short lived, it was long enough to have me rethinking what I thought love was. From there, the journey towards figuring out what felt loving to me began with forgiveness.  Full disclosure: While the relationship began on the grounds of mutual interest, it ended a bit like the scene in the movie with Julia Roberts literally chasing Dermont Mulroney’s character who was running after the Cameron Diaz character in the story line.  In my version, there was no Cameron Diaz character; I was chasing, and he was running away.   When I finally realized what I was doing, I stopped and placed my focus on how to reconnect with the part of me that I’d abandoned as well as forgive myself for said abandonment.  And I wanted to forgive him. He’d been honest from the beginning; told me when he liked someone, he tended to begin resenting them. But with all the works of fiction I had fed upon, at the time of his disclosure, I remember thinking, “It’ll be different with me; I can change him.”  And before I knew it, I was the one changing in ways that weren’t healthy for me.  And then when he began to pull back and avoid me, I chased. There was a lot of crying until I realized I needed to let him be/ go and get back to feeling like a whole me.  

Eventually, I got there.  But it had me taking a deeper look at what love really meant to me.  And, eventually, my findings even helped me to see that, in certain cases, a love depicted in a work of fiction, can actually work between those two characters but not work with any similar pairings in the “real world.”  For example, in Nalini Singh’s Alpha Night, the connection between those two MCs work because of everything about each of those characters in that particular world and situation. Otherwise, in “real” life, it would be unhealthy if two people with those traits decided to get together.