Prior to class last night I spent time with my sweet girlfren R. It was a beautiful evening with swallows and a cool breeze & orange red and pink clouds. After stretching on her kitchen floor we walked from her little apartment down to the rose garden & river, looked at all the old houses and enjoyed the scent of verbena and lavender and roses. Then we headed back towards downtown to the Eugene School of Ballet.
There were some darling young ballerinas in black leotards and white tights whose gazelle limbs and fresh young daisy faces made me smile. They were finishing up their class before we could comandeer the studio & do our bellydancing.
Only half of the regulars came to class, and I sometimes suspect our instructor takes the opportunity of such small classes to work faster with those who consistently attend.
Each class begins with nearly half an hour of warm-up, and then half an hour of drills, during which we practice moves and undulations, traveling front to back and side to side on the studio floor, while playing a simple rhythm with our finger cymbals. These drills are one of my favorite parts of class, when we play follow the leader & are all moving the same direction, reveling in each other's beauty and strength. I look and see delphiniums and lilacs and willow trees and marigolds in the mirror and the energy in the room feels so natural and vibrant.
The last few classes we have been learning intricate step combinations to a traditional song. It's a different form of dancing than what I initially learned; instead of focusing on muscle isolation and quick dramatic movements, what we are now learning deals mostly with timing, balance, and transitions between the moves. In this class, we all know the moves (although there is always room for practice), but it is the step-step-pause between those moves, to the 12/8 rhythm song, we are learning now.
It is a mind-bender.
I was walking around humming the song trying to remember where I had heard it.
Once I returned home, I fed dogs & cats who scolded me and asked once more where is S, and I ate a scrambled egg with a glass of milk, and climbed into a hot bath. I talked to S, who is still visiting his parents, and told him I know he said he would be home Saturday but really he should come home Thursday. I am keeping myself busy but each and every day I think to myself about the things I want to mention to him, and have even forgotten he won't be there when I get home. Which at first made me sad but now pisses me off. Come home, damnit, I told him and he just laughed like I was joking.
He has a sweet laugh. He's visiting him Mom & Dad and I guess I can't complain about that. When I was a child, I had no siblings, and always thought I would never mind being alone. Solitude is a lovely thing, and I am happy enough being by myself and staying busy, but I prefer his company. Especially at night.
It was cold last night, and I could hear the wind in the trees.
There were some darling young ballerinas in black leotards and white tights whose gazelle limbs and fresh young daisy faces made me smile. They were finishing up their class before we could comandeer the studio & do our bellydancing.
Only half of the regulars came to class, and I sometimes suspect our instructor takes the opportunity of such small classes to work faster with those who consistently attend.
Each class begins with nearly half an hour of warm-up, and then half an hour of drills, during which we practice moves and undulations, traveling front to back and side to side on the studio floor, while playing a simple rhythm with our finger cymbals. These drills are one of my favorite parts of class, when we play follow the leader & are all moving the same direction, reveling in each other's beauty and strength. I look and see delphiniums and lilacs and willow trees and marigolds in the mirror and the energy in the room feels so natural and vibrant.
The last few classes we have been learning intricate step combinations to a traditional song. It's a different form of dancing than what I initially learned; instead of focusing on muscle isolation and quick dramatic movements, what we are now learning deals mostly with timing, balance, and transitions between the moves. In this class, we all know the moves (although there is always room for practice), but it is the step-step-pause between those moves, to the 12/8 rhythm song, we are learning now.
It is a mind-bender.
I was walking around humming the song trying to remember where I had heard it.
Once I returned home, I fed dogs & cats who scolded me and asked once more where is S, and I ate a scrambled egg with a glass of milk, and climbed into a hot bath. I talked to S, who is still visiting his parents, and told him I know he said he would be home Saturday but really he should come home Thursday. I am keeping myself busy but each and every day I think to myself about the things I want to mention to him, and have even forgotten he won't be there when I get home. Which at first made me sad but now pisses me off. Come home, damnit, I told him and he just laughed like I was joking.
He has a sweet laugh. He's visiting him Mom & Dad and I guess I can't complain about that. When I was a child, I had no siblings, and always thought I would never mind being alone. Solitude is a lovely thing, and I am happy enough being by myself and staying busy, but I prefer his company. Especially at night.
It was cold last night, and I could hear the wind in the trees.
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