On Tuesday, my taiko classmate was talking about how she was trying to start strength training, but there were no personal trainers available at her gym to show her how to use the equipment.
Today, I spent a couple hours with her going over all the muscle groups, how to use various machines, and what to focus on when doing each exercise.
Time well spent.
There’s a busker who plays the accordion in downtown Burlingame on the weekends. I always enjoy his music and feel he contributes positively to the area. So even though I didn’t have any business to attend to on his side of the street, I made him my business, and crossed to drop some money into his accordion case.
We’re learning a couple new songs in chu-daiko class this year. One of them is full of showy arm movements, with lots of locking.
At last week’s class, one of my classmates gave me some feedback to adjust my showy arms. Despite my locking, my timing was off. “It’s like a punch,” she said. We discussed some more, and she explained that the entire song was about really fast movements.
Ohhh!! Punch, not flow. Sensei doesn’t always explain these things to us, so I’m really glad my classmate did.
My last two taiko posts were about feedback as well. This is from three different people, all solid veterans in our group.
I love this so much.
I quickly concluded in this exercise that our tongues are everywhere all the time. It helps us eat, speak, clean our teeth. It tastes, it detects and decides when we should swallow.
I few things struck me as I read the discussion:
- The tongue works best when we leave it to do its job.
- We couldn’t write sophisticated enough software to do what the tongue does.
- It does so much, yet we don’t notice or appreciate it.
Those points to could be applied to so many things in this world.
Elephant Adventure 44: Impatience
Went for a mountain bike ride after work. I always try to be super friendly to everyone I encounter, because I know that their interactions with other mountain bikers may not always be positive, intentional or not. I want to move that needle in the right direction.
Today’s interactions included doubling back to help a couple hikers looking for their dog, and pausing to talk to and thank a guy out there clearing trash from the trails.
Staying late to lend an ear, because sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is listen.
On my drive home on 280 tonight, I passed by a car crashed against the median. “I should call highway patrol,” I thought, followed by, “I’m sure someone else has already called.”
But what if everyone thought that? What’s the harm of a couple duplicate reports?
I called 911.
I didn’t see the interface in detail. I think my phone said something about gathering location.
When the operator answered, she immediately asked if I was calling to report a crash on 280.
I gathered that many people had already called. But instead of feeling like my efforts were a waste, I felt good about the world, because every person who called did what they felt was right, and actively contributed.
Note: This is a next-day re-write, because the original post, while ambiguous and anonymous, was about something I consider sensitive.
After taiko last night, a group of us went out to eat. Afterward, I gave my classmate a ride home. I do this every time we go out to eat, partly because it makes sense given where we live, sometimes so my classmate who doesn’t drive at night can come out with us, and also because it’s a great way to get to know my classmate better.
I took a later train than the one I’d been planning to, knowing full well that the parking lot might have been full by the time we got there, so Aaron and I could carpool.
There were still a few spaces left when we arrived. Huzzah!
At my first o-daiko class in March, I remember standing with my right leg really far behind me, and my hip flexor hating me for it.
I watched a bunch of videos, studied other people’s stances, and realized I could try putting my right foot farther out to the side, but more forward.
This created an unintended consequence: My body ended up too close to the drum, and I had to lean back a lot to keep my farms far away enough to strike at an angle. My lower back hated me instead.
Last Sunday, one of my classmates (a different one from the one who commented on my wrists) noticed my exaggerated lean, and suggested I try placing my right foot farther back to create more distance between my body and the drum. It reminded me that foot placement wasn’t binary, and that I should continue to explore.
Today I placed my right foot somewhere between day one and last Sunday. I felt great! My arms ended up where they needed to be, my hip flexor whined but didn’t hate, and my lower back stopped screaming from the lean.
I am so grateful for my classmates, that they notice the little things, and care enough to give me feedback.