Thursday, April 26, 2012

On stingrays, wellbeing and Love & Rockets

Since my musical concluded, I've been going to yoga class religiously. I schlep into town and do my thingy there. The class is nice and quiet. The teacher seems a placid soul and the atmosphere is calming. I love the way my upper back pops when I do a forward bend. Generally, I think of this class as part and parcel of my well-being as I navigate the choppy waters of school and work. Before class Wednesday night, a handful of women were talking about the fact that the teacher is leaving, moving away, and the studio will close upon her departure. I felt saddened by the news. I've been going to yoga very regularly and am seeing a marked improvement on my posture, how I feel and my general outlook, but for the studio to close would mean a personal setback, I thought. On Wednesdays, a guitarist comes in and plays music-- usually Villa-Lobos and the like-- to the class as we pose. Wednesday night, though, I could never seem to banish monkey-mind. Thoughts were swirling about what I would do, now that I'm finally on track with a fitness/wellness routine, now that beloved yoga instructor is folding up her mat and running off to infinitely more attractive San Francisco. I'll miss her. What'll I do? Then the guitarist did the most unlikely thing: he played Saudade from Love & Rockets' debut album. I was in some supine pretzelian distortion and I fancied I heard something familiar. I heard the first few tones and doubted my senses. Could this be? Is he playing one of my favorite guitar tracks? No! Surely not! I remembered hearing that this band was releasing an album and going to the record store to pre-order a copy, and they called me when it arrived, about 1985. Love & Rockets. Saudade. When Metamorphosis records called and told me my record had arrived, I shot off like a bullet to collect my prize. Back home, I reverently peeled the cellophane from the (vinyl!) album's dustjacket and slid the disk onto my cheap record player to give it its maiden listen. Such placid joy sprang forth. Hearing Saudade in the class Wednesday so hot on the heels of news of such great impediment to my tranquility, I knew nonetheless all would be well, all would sort itself out. Things don't always work themselves out in a way that we would most prefer, but one way or another, they do work out. I don't have the distance to sense the order to this elaborate, brocade wallpaper, but I know there is some order at work there, and this is a comfort. Here's to keeping soft knees and going with the flow. All is well.


Old NFO said...

Excellent point... For every down, there is an UP! :-)

Le Conteur said...

Beltane is just around the corner and here you are celebrating the warmth of the sun and the fruits of the earth with a worderful song of the ocean. I drew a card for you today, it was Butterfly. Appropriate for where you are now in your search. Butterfly is the spirit of self-transformation. Butterfly can give clarity to your thoughts and help you organize your undertakings at this time. You are wise, understanding, full of spirit and delight and a challenge to the world around you. I find that a bit awe inspiring. Blessed Be.

Le Conteur

Paul, Dammit! said...

Fun fact: Saudade is pronounced 'Saw-dahd-gee,' and there is no English translation. The closest equivalent is "yearn." It is Brazilian-variant Portuguese for the feeling of loss in separation- to suffer in missing someone so much that the self is sublimated to the point where the other person becomes the all. Poetic stuff. I'm learning to love the language.

Matt G said...

You, being musically trained, understand the meaning of saudade. For the rest of the class, it is a Portuguese word that does not translate directly into English, but means something sadder than reminiscence. It is "'the love that remains' after someone is gone." Spider Robinson called it once "the presence of absence."

Let your heart be buoyed up as you lift up others'. Your guitarist* was telling you that you are most certainly not alone in that lifeboat.

*How very cool. When I took yoga classes as a freshman in college, we played music, but it came out of a tinny tape player. Your classes had more class than my classes.

phlegmfatale said...

Old NFO - it's all too easy to lose sight of that, isn't it?

Le Conteur - how lovely! Thank you. Here I was thinking I was going to be a caterpillar forever!

Paul, Dammit! - Thank you for writing. I've always wondered how that was pronounced and now I marvel that I never sought the translation or meaning of the word. It fits, though. Thanks for adding more depth to an already lovely moment.

Matt G - Thank you. My heart was very much buoyed by your comment. What a dear and lovely friend you are. Many paths to enlightenment, though-- yoga with a tinny tape player is better than no yoga. :)

NotClauswitz said...

Magnificent creatures, flying in liquid.