I’m hanging out inside the chapel at Minnetonka Shores, grounding myself before class in the reflected rainbow light streaming through the triptych of stained glass windows. It creates this funky, fractured, fuzzy mosaic on a floor I know well. I step inside, a weekly baptism of sorts, closing my eyes, breathing deeply, co-inhering with unknown promise. It’s like winning the peace lottery or being able to look someone who’s really hurt me in the eye and see their woundedness rather than my own, (forgiveness, I’m guessing). Or, orgasming my way through a great slice of pizza, or three.
It’s how I roll now, in the moment, accepting these small ritualized gifts of contentment such as they are, aware that their beguiling elusiveness is part of the process; slippery, serendipitous, surprising. I’ve come a long way….
In comes Marlene, wheel-chaired, latest brittle broken bone, her arm, casted and wrapped to match her silver lame outfit. She’s followed by Sue who reminds me once again that she never misses class, a truth I can’t deny. Doris, 94, disappointed that arthritis has suddenly shown up in her right shoulder. Sweet Marilyn, on-time and apologizing for being late. Carol 1 and 2, beautiful, smiling, walkers in tow. Jon, fairly new, sits in the back, alone, younger than me, bewildered. Paul who jumped out of airplanes in World War 2. “You are braver than I could ever be.” He smiles and let’s his daughter Peg speak for him…as usual.
This is the crew that I encounter today, carry with me now, wrap around me like a cloak of invincibility as I bare myself out into the universe as me, as I am, unadorned, abiding in the power of my own life revealing itself, moment by moment by moment by moment. “Right”, I say, “let’s begin.”