Today we had rain which is notable, so notable. The temperature dropped and for the first time in over a week, it seemed perhaps the town was not about to catch on fire. I celebrated with Prosecco, music that was suggested by a music-knowledgeable friend, an online improv showcasing another friend, and text conversations. A reasonably solid COVID Friday. But, still, there was a to do item hanging over me.
OK. To be honest, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve tackled theology homework after some wine.
Interestingly, my left hand is throwing less erratically. I think this might be that sweet spot that happens in pool halls – sufficient alcohol to stop overthinking, but not so much to lose track of your hands. I have a tendency to think too much.
Twice in this video Morgan emphasized listening to the sound of the juggling pattern and that was helpful. It was like unfocusing my somatic awareness, and instead leaning into the auditory component of the juggling pattern, the thud thud of the balls landing, hopefully in my hands but more often on the floor. The expectation was set that more balls would land on the floor than not. That reassurance allows for a personal non-judgement of my own performance.
On a more singular note, my puppy Valentine has fully accepted that the juggling balls are not for him to play with. He’s somewhat uncertain as to why I am throwing balls *not for him* but has relinquished the management of these particular balls to my care.
Soon the juggling practice will arrive where I thought I was starting from, but with more thought and rehearsal. Maybe I will up my three ball cascade count?