Skip to main content

Gymnastics

For the last ten minutes of my daughter’s gymnastics class yesterday, the teacher quite unexpectedly changed the pace and character of the lesson. Having selected a hideous Euro House/Bashment tune which was made all the worse by the aggressive, deeply cerebral lyricist shouting ‘go, go, go!’ over the top, the teacher played the song through speakers located around the studio at a rather uncomfortable volume. The teacher then proceeded to dance in a manner that required me to lower my gaze, with posteriors and chests flying all over the place. The response of the children was fascinating. Three of the youngest in the class (5 years old) immediately walked out of the studio, preferring the comfort and familiarity of their mothers’ knees to the deep bass lines vibrating around the classroom. One slightly older boy stopped still and focused his eyes on the ground. Despite the cajoling of the teacher and her assistants, he refused to move and would not dance. The three older girls (my daughter included) nervously moved from side to side in time with the music, copying the teacher’s hand and arm movements, but preferring not to imitate the shaking rear end. After a minute or so, the teacher realised that the endeavour was not achieving its objective, and decided to turn the music down a little. She then encouraged her students to run around in circles shouting ‘go, go, go!’, as she shouted instructions to jump, lay down, and do a forward roll. The children enjoyed this. Their primordial happiness was illustrated by the giggles and squeals one expects from young people.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Return to Reality

Your life is tailor-made by the All Merciful Creator entirely in your interests. Everything that has happened in your life, both the beautiful moments and the bitter, have been created to reveal to you something about yourself or your relationship with The One. Nothing has ever gone wrong. Every moment contains a secret, an embedded message from Him, which, if heeded, moves one forward towards awakening. Awakening should not be considered a distant state attained only by the celebrity saints of the past. Rather, it is your primordial condition, your starting point. You were born a saint. You were born with clear vision. You saw Him in all things. You knew He was your ally, and that there was nothing to be fearful of. Existence was amazing. You were bedazzled by the rain, a toy train, the tablecloth. The universe is His Creation, and He is The Gently Loving and Kind. Hence, what can this world possibly do to you that is beyond His Mercy? “But what about the pain?” you ask. “It hurts...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Death of Desire by means of Distress

Comfort breeds contempt for the blessings that constitute one's existence, and is therefore extremely dangerous for the one who seeks proximity to The One. She who is not frequently reminded of how unconditionally dependent she is upon the Divine Mercy permits the seed of self-reliance to germinate, which, like an uncontainable vine, soon strangles the life out of her heart, leaving it cold, hard, and conceited. Woe the wayfarer who is not frequently exposed to her own limitations, for she has not had the chance to pick up the pieces of a life in tatters with newly gentle hands. Neither has she perceived the lives of others through the eyes of true mercy, for it is only the rarest human who can demonstrate compassion for something she has not personally tasted. More often than not, distress is the access point for Reality. It is only catastrophe that has the capacity to deconstruct the carefully weaved web of miscalculations we wrap our existence in, like a clement wrecking ball t...
Post a Comment
Read more

Memories of Jordan

Zaid informed me with bright eyes that despite defeat in the match against Iraq, Jordan’s honour had been salvaged in the post match combat. Police protection was all that stood between a diminutive group of Iraqis and spilled blood. Gleefully, Zaid chanted songs sung by the Jordanian fans, lauding Sadaam Hussein and reminding of occupation, while reassuring me that the match was of only slight importance to Jordan, as their qualification to the next stage was already assured. His demeanour demonstrated conviction that I would understand. I am English after all. When I announced that I was to take leave of Syria in order to reside in Jordan, I was endowed with numerous pieces of advice. Jordanians are boring, unable to maintain conversation. Life is hard there, expensive, and even if the infrastructure is superficially impressive, the money is dirty, earned through surrender. (un)Fortunately, upon arrival in Amman, balance was restored. Syrians are cheats. A story of a ma...
Post a Comment
Read more