He awoke like any other day, like every
day before. But when Gregory opened his door that Monday, a feeling
of uncertainty overshadowed his day like a personal thundercloud.
He coughed a mild cough, but a shiver
in his bones told him that wasn't the complete extent of the issue.
He had always lived a simple, straightforward existence, but today
there was a hiccup in the balance of the Universe. With a relaxed
attitude, he'd never sought wealth, but he discovered success
regardless, earned through achievement which came effortlessly,
without thought, as he skipped from one engaging activity to the
next.
But the core of his being had altered,
some elemental feature he'd always relied on without realizing it,
had deserted him.
It wasn't just the niggling cough, he
have a mild ear ache as well, and strolling down the walk, stumbled
in his exchange of greetings with his long time neighbor, Mr.
Beckett, no, Brighton, no, no, Mr. Briggsdale. Even remembering the
exchange required concentration, not merely recitation. Then Greg
stumbled on the awkwardly uneven flagstone, which had been sticking
out of the walk since they'd bought the house five years ago.
Insecure, and suspecting some failure,
like one suspects a microwave that is sparking of a malfunction,
Gregory focused on driving more than he had ever done in his life.
Normally he fiddled with the radio, scanning for the station with the
perfect song, or repeatedly review the information available on the
GPS, but this morning he drove in silence, senses stretched as taut
as a rubber band stretched to its limit. People were everywhere,
strolling in the crosswalks, speaking on the sidewalks, and he dodged
them in perpetual panic.
Whether because of anxiety over the
likeliness of a spill, or because of a forgetfulness born of focus,
he failed to purchase his morning coffee, but he felt as if he'd
drank ten espressos. After driving across two towns, he pulled into
the the parking lot of a library and sat, silently contemplating his
hands. Were they capable of completing the task? Was his brain, his
eyes? He'd spent the last ten minutes dodging a series of nearly
calamitous collisions, and didn't understand the cause. He pondered
the various options. Was he unlucky, or had fate conspired to send a
thousand arrows of outrageous fortune against him? Maybe, it was an
anxiety attack. Merely being anxious had caused him to lose focus.
Without looking he reached sideways for
a tissue, and jumped when he spilled his lunch onto the floor. He
packed it away, and looked at the time. The red numbers displayed
9:05, and he wouldn't arrive for another fifteen minutes at the
earliest. He exchanged a prolonged, determined look with himself in
the rear view mirror, and drove out of the parking lot and onto the
highway.
The sun was shining, the road was clear
of obstacles, and yet Gregory felt as if he was driving in a
snowstorm. Tasks which he normally completed without conscience
thought demanded his attention, and he dared not pass anyone.
Instead he followed slowly behind a blue car crawling along at 45
mph.
Finally at his destination, Gregory
climbed from his seat, carefully clutching his mangled lunch. Above
him a sign boldly proclaimed, “Dancing Through Life: Lessons for
Living”. He walked toward the door as swiftly as he felt capable,
anxious of the attention he'd receive on his arrival. Disgruntled
faces greeted his own, upset at the delay, but he tried to avoid
their glances, looking only at his secretary, harassed by his
absence, but relieved at his entrance.
“Sorry, Kathy,” he said, stopping
for as long as he could to express gratitude, but knowing he had only
seconds.
“I've held them at bay, I can do it a
few more minutes. Thanks can wait till later,” she said, smile and
frown fighting for space on her face.
“Thanks,” he replied, already
passing through the Employees Only door.
Ten minute later he was apologetically
greeting his 9:15 class.
Half an hour later, he'd regretted
arriving at all. His advise had been uninspired, his observations
haphazard, and when he'd tried to demonstrate a new technique he'd
fallen flat on his face. Cowering in his office he considered his
options.
I could cancel the remaining lessons
for the rest of the day, but what if my problem persists?
The second lesson was less of a
disaster. Gregory avoided any but the simplest demonstrations, and
focused simply on observing the students even if he gleaned no
insights from their performance. The participants may have found it
a boring but satisfactory lesson, yet he knew they had paid their fee
merely to tread water.
Somehow he persevered through the rest
of the day and was contemplating a dreary future of projecting
confidence in the face of incompetence, or worse, losing the studio,
when Kathy entered for the end of the day conference.
He knew he must look a sight, having
worn a progressively more dejected attitude after each lesson. She
placed a small stack of papers on the desk beside his hands and gazed
at him. Gregory was too afraid to say anything for fear of
condemnation. But she seemed to be waiting to allow him the initial
introduction.
At last, “I was watching.”
He didn't even raise his head.
“I've never seen anything like it.
You looked lost. You looked...” She paused, desiring to be
diplomatic, or at least to not sound harsh. She couldn't think of
any kind way of expressing her observations.
“You looked as if you didn't know
anything.”
At last he met her eyes. She expected
despair, but saw something else instead. There was rejection,
certainly, but also determination. He stood and shook her hand.
“It's your business but my opinion is
you should consider closing tomorrow and relax,” she said
uncertainly.
“I agree,” Gregory grinned. Let
everyone know we're closed for the rest of the week, then take a
vacation yourself. Paid of course. I'll see you next Monday.”
She left, looking anxiously behind her,
but he whistled while he cleaned up, and began walking toward the
door.
“Excuse me, Gregory,” Kathy said.
He halted and waited.
“Be careful driving home,” she
said, and awkwardly returned the smile forming on his face.
Driving home wasn't any less harrowing
than it was in the morning, but Gregory listened to his favorite
musical and laughed with the naive protagonist's personal
development. At home he applied himself, with practice, sure, but
with study. Initial enthusiasm was tempered by a difficulty he'd
never experienced in his life, and discovered the most important tool
to overcoming this obstacle. He accepted he would never regain his
lifelong unconsciousness intuition which had guided him so well for
his three decades
Lessons on Monday weren't as easy as
they used to be. Gregory had to focus more, to expend more of
himself, but he realized they were more enlightening for his
students, who had never really had a teacher before, only a model.
They learned from his word as well as his action. And he gained an
understanding he'd never had, which he knew would serve him well for
the next three decades.
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