February 18, 2005
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I forget how euphoric working out with the old folks makes me feel. Although I noticed today I wasn’t the youngest one in there, by any means. I stood up front, like I would in any class, and there’s this one move where the teacher does a variation of the twist only she juts her hips, laterally from one side to the other. So I found myself doing a bellydance move each time she did that. Very similar but different enough that I could see the teacher give me a look of concern.
As I did my sit-ups it occurred to me that all these women might enjoy a beginning bellydance class. I could teach them some veil and zills. They’d love the music, and it might pep up their love life. Then maybe I wouldn’t have to get a real job.
I’m just dreaming. I really like hanging out with older women, though. At the hospital, on Tuesdays, I’ve started learning a lot from the women I talk to. I think women get a chance, through taking care of their children and then taking care of their ailing husbands to learn a lot about love. Some of these women I meet really have their shit together and it comes from years of living and loving.
Gotta go, it’s time for my 1,000 words.
Okay, I did my thousand words and it got me to thinking about something a friend of mine, brendaclews, wrote yesterday. It was a poem about renewal and the last stanza reads:
I turn,
and you who were gone
are there
When I was married, I spent a good hour every day getting some kind of exercise. It varied over the years. A couple years I swam every morning. When I went back to school to be a court reporter I took up bellydance and, between walking in the woods with my dog and dance classes, I lived in my body. Now that I have taken up learning to write, I live in my head. After I had the last surgery and sold my costumes I felt so stupid for wasting all that time and money on something I was too old to do anyway. What was I thinking? Driving home from class today, It could have been 1988, back when I first started working out at the gym. Brenda’s poem made me think about how glad I am to have so many things to do that I am passionate about. And it doesn’t matter if I am making my living doing them. If all it brings me is joy, that’s enough.
I have three girls and two of them said to me recently, when they were down, that the only thing that made them feel better was getting their nails done.You can imagine the horror I felt. Brenda’s last line made me think about all the different versions of me and how grateful I am to be able to get back the physical one. We are the same person, 21 or 71.
Comments (14)
I don’t mind hanging out with my elders too. they have so much wisdom to dispense and I become a sponge. But they are old, and maybe a bit sedentary, so they could use, perhaps, a little jiggling of the hips through belly dancing! Geez, i konw that my waist could use some jiggling too. And you shouldn’t be worried about the comment you left–although I doubt that you really were–because it was a good comment, the kind that makes me think and I always wlecome those kinds of comments… thanks…
Oh, Pru, do I wish. I’m at work xeroxing stuff for these guys…and filing…and entering dreary stuff into an Excel file…sob! I keep hoping they’ll ‘let me go’ so that I can have a few stressed out weeks off to paint. Alas, though there are sparks with my immediate ‘boss,’ absolutely no sign that they ever intend to let me go. It is real nice to have enough money for groceries every week, and to be able to get my bills paid down. Xanga’s keeping me alive, seriously. Tomorrow’s the blogging conference, too! Looking forward to that… hugs! Hope you’re writing today xo
Hey, I just found your Xanga and I’m interested in your belly dancing. I always thought a class for older people would be interesting – you should offer it! I dance and recently did a Greek Festival (with belly dancing) at a senior center. The featured performer was 78 years old.
She’s been dancing she she was in her 50s.
Good for you! I don’t have the nerve to bellydance, but I’m with you on the physical exercise…nothing feels better than getting into your body and out of your head for at least a half hour, every single day.
I love that near to last line…”the only thing that made them feel better was getting their nails done” how simple, that is wonderful. I too have three girls who impart so much wisdom. I know you wrote you were horrified but do you see the flip side? Precious just precious. I got here from jerjoni’s site.
This is such a telling and inspiring post. It makes me think. Thank you.
i don’t think i’ve read your short story… it’s on my short list of things to do this weekend… and then i’ll give you some feedback…. in the meantime, in a short short story (like 800 words) you can’t focus on every detail the way you do in a longer tale… for example- in a long piece you need well-developed: characters, setting, plot, multiple conflicts, etc, but in a short short tale some of those are watercolored backdrops among which you focus on one part. so while you still need the classic beginning, middle, end (and usually in that order in a short short bc you don’t have room to play) as well as conflict (can be minor) you might use it as morality play, a conversation, a descriptive narrative, a twist on the old boy-girl plot, etc. does that make more sense? but you need to have a clear path- hear the story in your mind- pretend you’re telling it and use a broad brush of colors suggesting images. think of it as watercolor of the beach with one image in the foreground and the rest barely suggested as if through fog. brendas better at the visualiztion than i am- maybe she can explain it better. it’s good pratice writing short shorts and they sell well (not that i do either ever!lol- like i follow my own advice!)
oh and- go volunteer to teach belly dancing… the best jobs can come from volunteering some times! and whatcha’ got to lose???
I feel so honoured…and while I have no idea who those last lines refer to exactly, I suspect they are oneself…
Yes, start a bellydancing class – you’ll love it! I’m a yoga teacher, and, while I usually get very few students, it’s always a most amazing weekly event in my life…taught 3 classes a week at one point, those were the ‘married’ days, haven’t sorted out a class here yet, will sometime though.
And yay for your 1000 words! I hope you treat yourself to something nice…
Big hugs! xo
I think you are right… 21 or 71, we are the same… do we every really change? I think we simply become mellower versions of what we are. =)
Belly dancing round here is called ‘wining your waist’ and if you don’t do it when you dance ppl think a) you are either a tourist or b) you are crap in bed! So when you come to the West Indies for a holiday, you are sure to be v. popular.
I’ve just ripped off all my acrylic nails. Does my depression show? lol (I have a bad cold, that is depressing).
Have a good weekend.
Learning to bellydance would be a great trip–the ability to be sensual, but also great exercise! A class would be wonderful–it would be a way to re-connect with their bodies, fun and child-likeness! The outside may ‘fade,’ but the inner child remains.
I love how you realize that “we are the same person”
and age is merely a passing of time
not a marker for dreams to cease
the only thing that made them feel better was getting their nails done.
lol. That never makes me feel better…then again, my nails don’t “get done.” I paint them myself and they end up messily.
Lots of wisdom here.
I apologize for the lack of comments since I subbed; hope to do much better soon!
My ex teaches Tai Chi to elders and people with Parkinson’s. I know he wishes he could do it full-time and quit his job. Being with older people has always made me feel relaxed and safe for some reason – maybe because they’ve already been through it all and survived. It’s amazing how many of them tell me they still feel 18 years old inside. You gotta love that.
T