Two of my grandsons are taking a nap at the moment and I am contemplating taking mine. It’s so quite in my son’s house. The only noises come from the heat and the ice making machine. I’m lying on the futon, the bed where I sleep in the upstairs “boys room” (translated: the sports room) and I’m feeing at peace.
Once again, the week was full of news from Egypt and the upsurge in protests for more democracy the the region. I’m not sure if it is a full fledge revolution, but I do know the Middle East is changing and it give me pause to think that something interesting might happen, that perhaps the regions is changing and will, indeed, change.
Boomers have been though many changes in our lives. Probably the first event we remember with clarity is the death of John Kennedy. Several years later, we were witness to other tragedies: the death of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy and the Vietnam War. Since then we have born witness to more death and destruction – the Gulf War and the last ten years of a protracted and unsupported civilian war in Iraq and Afghanistan. It seems our world is always at “sixes and sevens.”
This peaceful moment leads me into reflecting on how I feel about witnessing another generation of my family grow and develop and make their place in the world. Sometimes being a grandmother is simply a wonder of life. I love to visit their schools and see them interact with others. I love to see what interests them at different stages in their young lives. But I view it all not from the ground floor, but from a distance away. I see it clearer than if these children were my own. Being a grandmother makes life really interesting in these days.
I’ve been grappling with the issue of whether I should leave UCLA and stop teaching yoga and cut back my work commitments. I’m doing more today than I have been since the days of my running a theater in Las Vegas. People always say that the more you do the more you get done and I think that’s really true. “But don’t you get tired?” people ask me.
I was dancing tango last Saturday with one of my oldest tango partners – a young man who just happens to be one of the few Babylonians left in the world (the old Iraq) but his people are true descendants of that ancient culture. He puts in long hours at work and then comes out late to dance after he has spent time with his family. I asked him if him was particularly tired and he responded that he never gets tired. He had no connection to the concept of “tired.”
I thought that was interesting and I’ve been thinking about that all week. I’ve also been thinking of time as it relates to being tired.
Here is how it goes in my life: I teach all week – mostly 7 classes a day. This week I rehearsed three nights for an evening of salon readings that will take place next week, practiced my performance, and taught late on the night I didn’t rehearse. While driving in my car to get to my scheduled private yoga clients, I rehearsed my performance pieces. Last night I drove to Vegas after teaching all day. I got on the freeway at 8 pm. I decided to dismiss from my mind that I might be tired. And than, I took the concept of literal time out of my thought process. I always liked the concept of quantum physics in which time as we know it is simply a human condition. In quantum physics, time does not exist except on a continuum. Past, present and future merge into one. Then I thought that if I took the concept of time away from me would it be possible not to feel tired. If there is no definite time does being tired even exist. It’s kind of an existential proposition.
The idea actually gives me energy. I’ve decided not to take a nap. Anyway, Jude Love is up and he needs a diaper change.