June 1, 2023

 


June 1,  2023

I became a person of a certain age recently. I've been planning for it for a while, but when such a day and number arrives, it's a little like being in an aviation accident, looking around and thinking, I seem to have survived. Since the emphasis on youth and general pessimism about retaining quality of life seems to be a generalized societal expectation, I figure a little pride and defiance on my part is warranted, if only as a defensive measure. What I mean is, it's o.k. to prove to myself that the expectations about older people are someone else's mythology, not my truth. 

I went into my favorite hot yoga studio for the first time in three years and went through the whole 105 degree, one hour sequence in a room of 24 people. I did 6 reverse back-bend handstands, belly to the sky and and did the ten seconds countdown for the last one--a birthday tradition in the studio, along with representing your age as 10 years older when asked. The fact that I practiced at home at room temperature for literally 1000 times in the three years made it easier.

So in terms of hot yoga, I haven't aged out. But I also reflected that my circumstances are pretty much what I would want them to be at this age. If I had to account for my life to whoever gave me the chance to live one.  This wouldn't have been true even a few years ago. No (more) heroic effort is required to avoid the feeling of regret at how things have turned out. I know what it is to love my work, my people, be grateful for my health, know how to relax, and not feel too squeezed by anything. I talk nice to myself when I'm late leaving the house, know how to encourage and motivate myself to do hard things, and my worst addiction at the moment is wasting too much time watching baseball games and Norm MacDonald talk show interview clips, two generally benign habits that still might well keep me from going back to serious reading or learning music theory or a new language.

I used to think I'd have to start some kind of major effort and make something happen: move to the California of fantasy,  or learn Chinese and emigrate to China (of fantasy); move to a Buddhist monastery and live out my days meditating intensively (maybe after beginning a meditation practice); or become a famous writer known for writing what most naturally came to mind; or become a professor who enjoyed teaching; or make music and perform with talented collaborators in public venues; or build a tiny house or trailer and spend my time free of having to go to a job; or live in a commune, living in happy entanglement with a tribe like an evolved person.

The fact that none of those fantasies formally occured doesn't mean I didn't live out those intentions. If I literally needed them to happen in order to be happy, I could imagine the disappointment I might feel. But on looking at this list, I have two thoughts:

1) I'm grateful that I wasn't successful in getting the particular things I wanted so intensely at times. I can see that working in China (as an English teacher?) and planning to get on the bullet train to Shanghai does not compare favorably to this day's specific hassles that I am contemplating at 5:43 a.m. this morning. I'm glad I don't have to spend time at an airport today or fix a broken dishwasher in a monastery kitchen or wash them all by hand waiting for the repair person to come. Fate protected me from all of these probably-not-better things.

2) The impulse behind those things I wanted didn't go away just because those specific things didn't happen. They found other forms to happen. I was insistent that they happen, so in some dreamlike, distorted way, they did. (To 6-9 year olds, I am a professor. I teach them about poetry, about grammar, mathematics and the elemental forces of the Universe, and I pretty much make a living.) I got to do the best parts without the money or tenure that complicate the lives of a lucky few college professors.

Some things I do find fascinating when considering whole-child education can be found in this month's entry:

Notes on What I Learned by Chaperoning Third Graders on an Overnight Last Week

The video element for this month is the collection below that in an alternate universe would comprise the "Best of Michael Silverstone--Live" album. I always wanted to have an album like that, so since I am now a person of a certain age, I thought I should celebrate by compiling it.

 "Nothing Else Matters"


"If You See My Savior" with Ari Eisenger

 

"All of the Time"

 


"Know Wear Man"

 

"As it Happens" 

 


"It All Comes Around Again"

 

"Flying Blind" 

 


 "Only Time"

Singing the Donald Fagen song "IGY" with the Valley Jazz Choir.

 

"Inside this Wondering"


"I Go to Sleep" by Ray Davies

 


"Again and Again"

 

"I'll Remember You"

 


"Where it Takes You"





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