Day 25
I’ve been in Tel Aviv almost a month. My friends think I’m nuts. They ask me, “Don’t they teach dance in America?”
I don’t have an adequate answer.
There’s no box they can put me in at the moment, except perhaps “irresponsible,” or “crazy,” or “desperate mid-life crisis”.
…..
Class is almost over, and we’re dragging from the heat and humidity. The teacher laughs at herself, and then says loudly over the music, “Connect effort to pleasure.”
Sounds masochistic.
“Use your tiredness!”
Huh?
“What are you saving your energy for???”
Excellent point. I have no idea what I’m saving my energy for. The second half of my life?
“Waste energy.”
Uh, sure.
I dial into my tiredness. I luxuriate in my tiredness. I send my tiredness into the room, out the window, and into the sea.
“Feel the echo. Shake with engines both close and far away. ”
That’s my present whereabouts: Far Far Away. In a part of the world many Americans avoid.
Yet, at this moment, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
If anything, this is a mid-life rejuvenation. Or resuscitation. Or resurrection.
I’ve figured out how to tell if I’m on an authentic path.
All I have to do is ask myself three questions:
Does it fit in a box?
Do people understand?
Does it make sense?
If the answer to all three is “no,” I’m probably on the right track.