Yesterday evening's yoga class was, for me, almost exactly the opposite of last week's class. Last week, I was inwardly focused, slipping into meditative states easily. Then I came very close to achieving Bakasana, I started laughing, and it somehow shifted my focus outward.

Yesterday, my focus was outward from the start. I felt unfocused, actually. My mind kept jumping to other things. I felt like I wasn't into the yoga. It was difficult for me to meditate. Ironically, the focus of yesterday evening's class was meditation. We started the class with a sitting meditation. Somewhere in the middle we did a resting mediation while chanting, eight times, Lokah samastah sukhino bhavantu (May all beings everywhere be happy) and ending with Om shanti shanti shanti (shanti = peace). Then, somehow, my focus shifted inward. I felt glad that we didn't do any partner poses, because I felt in the mood for solitude. When we ended the class with a seated meditation instead of the traditional Savasana, I actually did achieve a meditative state.

It's that time in Spanish class when, despite my best efforts to be logical, a little bit of frustration sets in. I went through it in yoga class. I reach a point where I feel like I've learned a lot, but I can't stop thinkling that I still have a lot to learn because I'm having trouble putting it all together. I'm somehow worse than the beginning, when I knew nothing and have everything to learn. I don't know why that is. Eventually, another point in my education arrives, and what I don't know doesn't seem quite as important as what I've learned. I can't predict when that will happen, but it will.

Patient arrives, and asks me to page his social worker. I page his social worker, and Patient sits down at the far end of the waiting room.

Patient's social worker arrives. Patient is no longer in the waiting room. (That happens a lot in this clinic.)

Later, Interpreter Services calls to tell me that they are unable to get an Acholi interpreter for Patient (same patient as above), but they will be able to arrange a telephonic interpreter. I'm not surprised by that - Interpreter Services is never able to locate an Acholi interpreter in person. I also know that Patient is comfortable enough with English that he always declines the telephonic interpreter. I am surprised, though, that Patient has an appointment - he didn't mention that to me. I tell Interpreter Services that Patient hadn't shown up for his appointment.

At twenty minutes past the start of his appointment, I notice Patient sitting in the far end of the waiting room. I tell the triage nurse this, and the triage nurse leaves to ask the doctor if Patient can still be seen. The social worker returns, and can't find Patient. I look over, and Patient is gone. The triage nurse returns and tells me that Patient will have to reschedule his appointment. I tell the triage nurse that Patient isn't there anymore. Both the triage nurse and the social worker think I'd been hallucinating. (Not really - I hope.)

My workday started with the news that a patient had committed suicide last night. It was the second time, in the year that I've worked in the clinic, that I've been aware of a suicide. The patient's family arrived in the clinic to meet with the patient's social worker and healthcare provider. I was the one who greeted the family, and none of them seemed as upset as I had expected they would be. I wondered, later, if they knew, before they came in, what the meeting was about. In hindsight, I'm glad that I greeted them nonchalantly.

My workday ended with a patient telling me that he found "a can of heroin" in the waiting room bathroom. I called Security. Security spoke with patient over the phone. The patient told Security that he is an ex-user, and he knows heroin when he sees it. Before Security arrived, my supervisor and I took a look. In one of the trash cans was a Coke can, which had been cut in half. In the bottom of the can was some brown liquid. On the sink was the wrapper from a needle. Neither my supervisor nor I know what heroin looks like. The Security Officer didn't know what heroin looks like, either, and said he didn't want to know. He explained that, without us seeing anyone use it, all he could do was remove the trashbag from the bathroom, tie the opening, and place it in a trash can by the elevators. That seemed like an odd thing to do, but that's what the Security Officer did.

"A Japanese Post" finally got reviewed and published this evening. I was reading the FAQ for information about what to do if your cache isn't approved in a timely manner when the publication email arrived. It was found a short time later (it is a 1/1 cache) by two local geocahers who arrived within minutes of each other. The First To Find was a geocacher we'd met in Seattle, close to where he works. In his log he said that he was surprised to find one of our geocaches in Black Diamond.

I'm the type of person who feels the need to allow myself more than enough time to get somewhere - even if that means I arrive early and spend some time reading a magazine, meditating on my yoga mat, or preparing for class. This evening, I left for Spanish class later than I was comfortable with, and discovered that the garage door in our apartment building wouldn't open. (It later turned out to be a dead battery in our door opener, and when I had replaced the battery, I accidentally bumped some of the keys that set the code.) It was exactly that sort of unexpected event that is the reason for my habit of allowing more time than I need. I was dangerously close to being late for the first day of class, I didn't know, offhand, where the new Flexcar card was that had arrived in the mail recently (and I had no time to look for it), and our apartment manager wasn't home. It's a fifteen or twenty minute drive to class - depending on Highway 520 traffic on Montlake, and depending on whether the Montlake Bridge is up. At ten minutes to class, Phillip called a taxi for me, the cab driver arrived promptly, the bridge was up, the cab driver took a wrong turn, and I got to class 15 minutes late, very stressed out.

I was pleasantly surprised to find Avilio teaching the class again. In the intro class, there were four female students and me. In this class, Level 2, there are five female students and me. So far, this class might be a little more structured than the intro (it was the alledged lack of structure that caused the complaint against Avilio) - we have a textbook, handouts, and we will have quizzes and homework. (The textbook, at least, is a product of the school, not Avilio.) The class was almost all in Spanish, but at the end, each student was asked, in English, what we expected out of the class. (I said that I need the most help with sentence construction - when to use "por" or "de" or "para" or "con," etc.)

During the class, Avilio asked us, around the table, "¿Por qué tú estudias español?" (Why do you study Spanish?) I answered, "Porque el español es útil en mi trabajo." (Because Spanish is useful in my job.) (I forgot to add the "el" and I used "con" instead of "en." That's why I feel I need help with sentence construction. Interestingly, some form of "for my job" was the answer for four out of us six.) Then Avilio went around the table and asked, "¿Cuál es otra razón por la que tú estudias español?" (What is another reason you study Spanish?) I thought about how I wanted to read One Hundered Years of Solitude in its original language someday, but I couldn't figure out how to say it, so when my turn came, I answered, "¡Porque el español es bonita!" (That answer went over very big with our instructor.)

It occurred to me, sometime after I got settled into class, that Phillip and I hadn't discussed how I was going to get home. It had cost me $20, including tip, for the cab ride to class, so it seemed a better deal to try to catch the 25 or 43 bus home. But would Phillip think to pick me up? Would I be able to call him and ask him to come get me, or would he have gone to bed already? I walked out of class, and Phillip wasn't there, so I started walking off. Then Kelly, who was a student in the Intro class with me, and is a fellow student in Level 2, offered me a ride home.

As Kelly drove me home, we talked about Spanish, mostly. We both enjoy watching DVDs with the Spanish subtitles on. We were both surprised, and pleased, to have Avilio back as our instructor. And we're both a little worried that a couple of women in our class are looking for structured teaching.

A few minutes ago, we got an email telling us that our geocache, "U.T." had been found today. That made me happy, because "The Girls" (our rarely found cache) had been found a couple of days ago, which made "U.T." the only one of our seven active caches that had not been found this month - until today. We are still waiting for "A Japanese Post" to be approved.

I haven't been keeping up with this blog this past week, because I kept trying to write something for Writers' Group. Nothing seemed to click, though. I tried writing a critique of Lost in Translation, but just couldn't find the motivation. This morning, I still had nothing prepared. I brought my notebook with me, and decided to find something in there to read. I walked to church and, right before service began, I decided to read an unfinished piece I'd started a long time ago, but never finished, about a patient who'd committed suicide. That's what I read, and it got a good reception.

I was really dreading going to church this morning. I realized that my heart just wasn't in it, and I was going only because of Writers' Group. (I'm still wondering if I should drop out of Church Council.) I thought, before leaving, about skipping church and showing up at Coffee Hour. That seemed rude, somehow. As I walked up to church, I passed by Plymouth Congregational Church, and I saw the pastor greeting members of the congregation, and I realized that it wasn't church that I'd lost faith in, it was my church.

At Barbara and Don's house, as we waited for Russ to arrive, something obvious occurred to me: Russ doesn't go to my church anymore, and Writers' Group is no longer a church group. There is no reason for me to go to church just for Writers' Group. I could just meet the group there, like Russ does.

Yesterday, Phillip and I went to Black Diamond. We hid our 9th geocache. We're still waiting for it to get reviewed. There was a celebration going on in Black Diamond. (None of us could agree on its name. It was something like Black Diamond Miners Day.) My brother, my mom and dad, Phillip and I went to the chili cookoff. There was no vegetarian chili, or even any chicken, but I decided to join in on the festivities. I tasted some good chili, some not so good chili, and ate more beef and pork in one afternoon than I had in a long time. I felt a little light-headed afterwards.

I had a good session of yoga on Friday. I was in a solitary mood, and I slipped into meditative states very easily. That made yoga even more enjoyable for me.

Last Wednesday was the last day of Introduction to Conversational Spanish. Conversational Spanish Level 2 starts tomorrow. Avilio doesn't know if he'll still be teaching at Seattle Languages International. He did invite us to email him with any questions we might have. He also brought up the possibility of informal get-togethers - not officially a class, just a group meeting for coffee and Spanish.

There's something more that I wanted to write about, but I can't remember what that was.