The alarm went off at 7:30 a.m. As we roused out of sleep, Char reminded me of the 9 a.m. yoga-latte class (yoga and Pilates combo; no latte) I wanted to take. I dragged myself out of bed, trying to motivate myself with what was on the schedule for the day: yoga-latte class, lecture by Elie Wiesel, writing class, and the ballet. I quickly showered, and although I prefer wearing my hair straight, Char talked me into letting it go natural, i.e., wild and curly. Vince was patiently waiting to walk me half way and point out Turner Hall where the class was held. I scrambled to gather my things. Where’s my yoga mat? Where are my shoes?
Soon Vince and I were on our way. The storms from the night before passed and the sky was clear with just a few clouds. Vince pointed out Turner Hall to me and turned to go to club, which is like a day camp for Chautauqua kids. As I walked to Turner Hall I was reminded of my early college days trying to navigate my way to classes throughout campus. The yoga-latte class ended up being booked solid. Every day. All week long. So I walked back to the apartment and did my own yoga on the deck as I listened to a finch chirp in a nearby tree.
After yoga I walked around campus snapping pictures that I doubt will do Chautauqua any justice. Even though I swore I wasn’t going to buy anything, I allowed myself a peak in an antique store where I bought a 1930s era toy oven during my last trip. Thankfully, nothing called out to me. No money spent.
At 10:45 I met Char at the Amphitheater for the daily lecture. Today’s lecture was given by Elie Wiesel and focused on this week’s theme: What makes us moral? As we sat in the outdoor theater filled with 5,000 people, the women on either side of me were knitting, which Char says is a typical thing in Chautauqua. A couple of great things Elie Wiesel said (I’m paraphrasing):
“If I want to be hungry it’s my choice. But I choose for you to never be hungry. That is being moral. It could be a hunger not just for food, but a hunger for liberty, happiness, love and humanity.”
“My one piece of advice is that whatever you do in life, think higher and feel deeper.”
This afternoon Char and I attended a writing class. Char convinced me that we should ride our bikes to class instead of walking. I hesitated. After all, she’s a suburbanite. When they need to go somewhere two blocks away, they drive. I’m a city girl. I won’t hesitate to walk a mile to get to my destination. And I hadn’t been on a bike in fifteen years. But I agreed anyway, and it ended up being a pleasant ride through the neighborhood, except for the time that I fell over on the bike going 0 mph, stubbing my toe bloody and scraping the palm of my hand. I told Char I would stick to walking. It was still faster anyway.
The afternoon writing class was on Writing Nonfiction: How to Profit at Writing and Marketing Nonfiction Magazine Articles and Books. While I focus mainly on fiction, I still thought I could learn a thing or two. I signed up for one class with the option of attending the other two this week if I chose to.
The class took place in an old one-room octagon shaped building where Char says they have Quaker meetings. Inside were rows of old wooden desks. Feeling inspired, I took a seat in the front row. But as soon as the teacher started speaking, I knew it was going to be a long class. He spoke at a slow pace and with a mild stutter. His voice was soothing, which was great if I were trying to fall asleep rather than learn how to write magazine articles. I so badly wanted to give him a shot of espresso. This guy actually wrote and published a book on collecting antlers, and once wrote an article for Modern Maturity on how to fall down properly. After several minutes went by, I glanced at the watch of a man sitting nearby. Forty-five minutes left? I spent most of the class writing today’s blog in my head. Fortunately Char killed ten minutes asking about getting free publicity in magazine articles. It broke up the monotony. I won’t be returning to the class tomorrow or Wednesday. Surprisingly, Char will.
Our landlord Kathy cooked us a delicious dinner of penne with shrimp scampi in an alfredo sauce. By 8 p.m. I was tired but we went to the ballet where my friend Tim, and Char’s ex-husband, was conducting the orchestra. All the dancers and musicians were students from the Chautauqua ballet and orchestra programs.
On the agenda for tomorrow:
· Meditation at 7:15 a.m. (only of I could drag my ass out of bed, but it’s doubtful)
· Try to get into a different yoga class
· At least open my manuscript and pay a visit to the troubled Moore family whom I neglected for a week
· Relax and be enlightened
I’m exhausted, and my toe really hurts. Talk to you tomorrow.
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