1. Get up two hours before your first appointment. Immediately express gratitude. Spend half an hour reading something inspiring, half an hour doing physical exercise...
I was woken up four hours before my first appointment today. There is no soundproofing to speak of where I live. When I looked at this studio and the one next door I asked the letting agent to go into one studio while I went into another, and for her to sing, cough, shout, clap her hands, whatever. Which she duly said she did.
I was woken by the Sizewell engineer next door, who suffers with sleep apnea and who bellows at early dawn from within his Cpap-mask. I reached for my Gratitude Diary and wrote: 'The Sizewell engineer goes home to Ramsbottom at the weekends.' He says he lives in the posh part: Upper Ramsbottom.
The Egyptian gander from by the pond opposite kicked off. I looked out under the blind and saw that there was a dove sitting about ten feet away from him. Usually anything smaller than him will be frightened away by his honking. Not this dove. The goose came through the fence from the Meare and the gander turned his attention to trying to bully her into the pond. He's been doing this recently. I wonder if he wants them to nest in there this year. The goose won't go in the pond. Perhaps she remembers, even if he's forgotten, the ridiculous woman with the Jack Russell.
Read about her here
I was about to write in my Graditude Diary that I am grateful, in the light of how gorgeous was last year's gosling (a tiny, shimmering fluff ball) for the goose being so sensible, when she decided she was going to...oh, God no...she does this...just don't look...she's decided she's going to cross the road. I've witnessed four times at least when she has nearly been knocked down. A number of cars had belted round the side of the Meare already this morning. I pulled on clothes and went down there to
encourage her (by shooing) to stay on the grass.
I explained yet again how it was okay-ish for the swans to chance the road: their size and whiteness: but not her. Okay?
She decided that I was right and went back through the fence. The gander watched her then honked
again at the dove.
I read the Book of Job for inspiration. In Out of Africa Karen Blixen wrote that her farm workers saw God in terms of both Job and Tales of the Arabian Nights - as a richly imaginative being. I want to understand what she means so I'm reading both. So far in Job I've been struck by a verse saying that God has poured Job out like milk and curdled him like cheese.
For my physical exercise I did ballet practise. I like to check from time to time that I can still do those solos that in performance would constitute showing the audience the bottom of my purse (i.e. that only come off when I'm at my flukily jammy best) so had a crack at the Black Swan Pas de Deux. I imagined that I was being partnered by Matthew Golding at the Lincoln Centre. Which
comes under the heading of Positive Projection for Positive Outcomes. I managed the dance okay, including the thirty-two fouettes, but had to tell myself to stop imagining all the gays and straight women in the audience getting off on how physically beautiful Golding is - as this (all in my head, I know) put me on the back foot. Doesn't qualify as Positive Projection, this; and tends to end up in me adopting the MO of Maria Callas pacing her dressing room at La Scala, when she thought her applause so far had been inadequate, chuntering, 'I'll teach those stickers out there!' then hurling added tricks into the teeth of the gallery.
Hence my putting in the gargouillards and the thirty-two changees and having Golding sacked before the next performance.
Tomorrow's Rule will be: Getting to Your Foremost Task.