Self Portrait III
Sonnet and I meet for a date at ... yoga. And then drinks and dinner. Yes, this is what middle-aged parents do I suppose. We have been going to Bikram Yoga since '93 when it opened only its second studio in San Francisco's North Beach. Sonnet and I had been dating a short time and she was experimenting with yoga, meditation and spiritualism. Me, I was hooked on Sonnet and would do about anything to be with her so I did: sitting in a miserable 105-degree room contorting my body in all sorts of unnatural ways. Sweating buckets. Or worse than Bikram - being crossed-legged and silent for 90 minutes doing... nothing. That is about the worst kind of hell. Today Bikram is all over London and if I had been half-way switched on in '97 I would have considered franchising the operation - afterall, ex-pats rack their brain for some US concept like premium coffee or bagels to bring to these unsuspecting Brits. Our yoga in Richmond is run by Johny who is super-intense, bald, slight and skinny though maybe this not the right description. His muscles look baby supple and his skin dove white. If not for his dark, sinister eyes I would think him a physical lite-weight but his stare says it all: "I will fuck you up." Johny looks like he sleeps in half-eagle or camel, which on a good day almost kills me. He will compete in a regional competition this week-end with finals in SoCal - I mean, what are they going to do? See how long they can hold a torture? I have no doubt he will make it to California. Me, studio time punishing enough.
I take the kiddos to school this morning and Eitan lets me know that all the kids in his class think I am silly and "a bit mean" which raises an eye-brow. He asks me not to high-five his chums or give them the Obama "rock." I am not too concerned with this BTW. I appreciate that I am serious yet have Grace's silliness which is the best aspect of my parenting I think. In Eitan's class I talk to his teacher Ms. Y who tells me she went around the class-room each kid describing a goal. Eitan apparently tells Ms. Y that "my dad wants me to be on a better football team with older kids" and further: "I am a bit scared." This catches me out and no doubt I am pushing him towards the next level of his game BUT my only rule that he check out two or three teams before he leaves Palewell where he has been these last five years. Kids pick up their parents aspirations and Sonnet and I agree that our son worries.
"Focusing your life solely on making a buck shows a certain poverty of ambition. It asks too little of yourself. Because it's only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you realize your true potential. "
Barack Obama
