writing skills/profession

There Should Be English for This


 

Urinal in Ben Gurion airport

Image via Wikipedia

 

Forlesket is the Norwegian word for the euphoria felt while falling in love. In the Philipines, a gheegle is the unbearable urge to pinch the cheeks of something that is just beyond cute. A pochemuchka is a Russian who asks too many questions.

What do all these words have in common?

No English equivalent.

There are no gheegles or pochemuchkas.

Which is not to say that English is hopeless and lacks imagination. It has its moments, but does it have words that are beyond the reach of other languages’ dictionaries?

A mark left behind on a glass table by a cold glass is a water spot to us but a cualacino to an Italian.

The itchiness of the upper lip just before taking the first sip from a glass of whiskey? That might be “addiction” for an English speaker but in Gaelic, it’s sgrioban.

Meraki is infusing what you are doing with soul or creativity or love. Very Greek.

Waldeinsamkeit is the feeling one experiences when he/she is alone in the German woods. Bavarian forest, perhaps? All Hansel, Gretel and Brothers’ Grimm or Julie Andrews’ hills are alive?

With my dyslexic inability to pronounce things, translations are the least of my worries, but I love the idea of large, or small, concepts rolled up into single words.

Share your favorite words and meanings? Anyone?

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Coming Out of Retirement


How Yoga Teachers Hang Out

Image by sarahfelicity via Flickr

I resigned from my teaching position of twenty years in the spring of 2007. At the time, I had vague notions of rolling over my teaching certificate and working as a classroom teacher in Alberta. I still think about the license – need to get on that really – but the idea of teaching high school again doesn’t warm my insides.

So I semi-officially retired from teaching. I still read about the horror known as “reform” down in the states and I write about it (none too flatteringly which would make it hard to secure a teaching position down there again, methinks), but I don’t harbor any notions of returning.

When I left the building, I didn’t look back.

Okay, I still love office supplies, but that aside, I don’t miss the job of it. And it was a job. A thankless and mostly mind-numbing job as the years ground on.

I blogged. I wife’d the house, mothered the child and poured myself into myself and my husband. And life was very good.

But somewhere along the line, yoga arrived and then the urge to teach it followed, and now I am not exactly retired anymore. In fact, I am working – more and more.

What started with filling in at the studio here and there became an employment opportunity when I was offered one then two and now three classes of my own. Quickly on the heels of this came an offer to teach two nights a week at the community hall across the street. Add to this the fact that I’d already agreed to take every third Friday teaching a class for figure skaters in the next town over.

Between this and the Care2 gig – I am working again.

Not that I could pay the mortgage – which isn’t an issue because we don’t have one anyway – but it’s an exchange of skills for money. I haven’t done this in a while and it’s … interesting.

I had to shop. My yoga attire is not exactly Lululemon. I gave her up a while ago because the pants are too low-cut and the fabric doesn’t breathe enough for my comfort level. I am a capri’s and leggings type with long t’s and sweaters. Layers is the middle-aged woman’s best friend.

I have a lesson book. I write out sequence plans. It’s like the old days only everyone who shows up wants to be there and pays attention.

Not that many are showing up. It’s not my studio. People who come expect Jade. And why not? She’s good. So my classes have a couple of folks here and there. It’s a bit disappointing in the first few minutes but once I start to teach, I lose myself in the instruction and forget about the numbers.

The community hall class will be bigger. Nine registered officially and a few more who’ve verbally committed. Perhaps I can lure a few into the studio? It’s a goal; I won’t deny it.

Someday I will have a studio. Somewhere. I don’t think it will be soon or here, but the future – as Yoda pointed out to Luke – is a difficult thing to pin down for prediction purposes.

For now, I am a working girl again. That’s all I need to know.

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Briefly


YOGA! July challenge

Image by lululemon athletica via Flickr

I’ve been catching up on work today due to a near two-week bout with what turned out to be an infected tooth. What I thought was asthma and a possible sinus infection was actually an abscessed molar.

Two trips to the doctor, four blood tests, a chest x-ray, 2 ekg’s, three antibiotics and a four-hour stint in the ER on a Sunday night (worth its own post) later, I am back to the dentist in a few hours to begin the root canal.

Today, at least, I can sit up long enough to get a bit of backlogged work accomplished. Between Rob’s heart-attack, Mom’s visit and then this tooth thing, I’m woefully behind on the yoga – practice and preparation for teaching.

I need business cards and a new blog plus the time to prep for two classes. I should get the proof for the cards today or tomorrow. The blog is underway. But I still have a bit of reading to do for the Restorative  Yoga class and have to thumb through my Yoga Works notes for the Flow/Vinyasa class on Saturday.

On the business side of yoga, I received a call from the neighbor across the street about teaching a twice weekly class at the community hall. If it works out, I could be teaching four classes a week this fall session. Very exciting.

So, I have not abandoned ye. Once life settle into a “pattern” as Dee is fond of saying, blogging is on the schedule. Perhaps even daily again. I really need to work my word muscles again because I have aspirations that I might share at a later date.

Happy Yoga Month in the meantime.

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