Make art not war

It was an unusually full and satisfying Monday. I got some work done, though not as much as I wanted, and not enough to complete the technology project I've been plugging away at for two weeks. I went out at lunch time, which I rarely do, and talked to the staff people at the new recreation center near the office. Based on what they said, it might be a good place to teach taiji, or play basketball, or both! I touched base with a close co-worker who has been out of town in several cities, and it was good to reconnect and hear about her week of meetings and some of the strange characters she encountered. And it turns out her brother might adopt one of the golden retriever puppies that are allegedly free at the animal shelter. That would be cool.

After work there was a new student waiting for me at the yoga factory, an exceptionally well-prepared student around my age or older who has studied dance seriously and has an amazing base of movement knowledge to build on. She talked about Martha Graham, Eric Hawkins, and Merce Cunningham theories and technique, comparing the Basic Movements we were doing with those modern dance pioneers. Turns out we have mutual friends at OSU. Small world or small town? Will she continue with taiji? Will the other new student I talked to on the phone join her in the Monday night class?

Instead of staying for yoga, I went home and listened to the record I couldn't get out of my mind, and it still rocks. I ate some supper and went to the monthly drum circle at Central Swingstate Percussion across from Graceland. It's great! The first Monday of every month, they let anybody pick a hand drum from their extensive selection and sit in a circle for an hour and a half banging away and building rhythms. A guy who teaches at the arts-impact middle school usually leads, but once the group gets started he relinquishes the lead and everybody plays on top of everybody else in an open-ended collective improvisation. There were times when I wasn't sure which sounds were coming from me and which from someone else.

I went home and ate again, since Gven had cooked, had a glass of red wine, and read a little. Walking the dog in the cold, clear night kind of topped it off. It's been so warm lately that a cold February night was a novelty. It got late too soon, and I brought in more wood and built up the fire so it was last until morning. I think I slept so well because of all the varied aesthetic input, kind of like the way Arnold Palmer described his best rounds of golf when he used every club in his bag.