The thing that I most like and admire about myself is that I am intensely creative. I have always been this way, and I’ve gotten more so as I’ve grown older. However, I am not at all organized, and I have gotten less so as I’ve grown older.

The world would be a better place if I was just a tad bit more analytical. I would then be a force to be reckoned with. Instead, I’m just this weird, eccentric woman with furrow lines between her brows. A farmer could actually plant a crop in these furrows and in short order, reap a bountiful harvest. I have tried spreading these furrows apart with my hands but to no avail. They appear to be here to stay.

Judy and her mule

Being creative and creating new things is a very satisfying endeavor. I am not gung ho about working with fabric, or in three dimensions – that extra dimension just confuses me. But I am adept at getting ideas on paper.

I sat down this morning and I wrote up the attached document/cartoon/informational schema. Last week, when I taught two student riders, I doled out several examples of ways in which riders might breathe. It was a very bits and pieces lesson – I am sure that after, Amy and Jessica were puzzled.

I decided that tomorrow I’d instead focus on just one aspect of breathing, and I settled for one with the most clearly discernable image – I call it Ferris wheel breathing. I next drew a Ferris wheel, putting in horses looking out of their seats and offering commentary. I then went into detail as to what constituted Ferris wheel breathing.

Lastly, I made note of the fact that the crazier one’s imagery, the more apt the ideas that complement it will work. I did not say that this is because bringing odd duck imagery to mind activates specific neurons in a way that a conventional duck image does not. I might be able to mention this tomorrow, when I go over the handout with Amy and Jessica.

I hope this makes what I touched upon last week clearer. You just never know. We assume that when we converse with people that they see things the way we do. But this is seldom the case. It’s sort of like telling people about your dreams. You can never, ever describe a dream exactly as it was, so why bother? We all need to accept the fact that such exchanges are fictional accounts.

For a half-hour or so I was so absorbed in what I was doing that I lost track of time. I also became less anxious about the upcoming lesson. This sheet, I thought, will enable me to both pull things together and to move forward with the ideas inherent to my lesson.

We’ll see how it goes. The lessons are a lot like piñatas. Everyone gets something different out of it. I am okay with this. After all, I am at heart a fiction writer with a lot of time on her hands.

Next: 219. 8/9/20: One eye on the Sky