Okay, so the people in my exercise class at the Day Care Center for the Elderly in Jerusalem don’t quite have this one down yet…

A friend of mine was over a week or so ago saying that she felt she wasn’t contributing to the world and wanted to do something to help someone somewhere. I suggested volunteer work and mentioned that I’d seen a few volunteer opportunities in the newspaper that morning. We agreed that I’d look for the information and she’d get back to me.

Looking back over the possibilities, three jumped out at me. Two involved 3-4 hours a week gardening – one on the grounds of a hospital and one in the Botannical Gardens – and one gave several options of activities to lead at an Adult Day Care Facility.

My friend never got back to me for the information but I decided to check them out for myself. The gardening options got ruled out because of timing and logisitics (maybe the Israeli summer sun was a contributing factor in dampening my enthusiasm) so I made an appointment to meet with the social worker at the Adult Day Care Center just a 5 minute walk from my yoga teacher’s house where I do yoga every Thursday until 11 a.m.

The Bet Frankforter Adult Day Care Center is in a beautiful, old, former residence made out of lovely Jerusalem stone. There are three groups of elderly people who take the shuttle provided for them from their homes to the center every day. Each group is comprised of about 20 or 25 men and women and each group has a different level of physical capabilities.

The social worker, Tzillah, is a British olah (immigrant) who has been living in Israel for 30 years. Her Hebrew is heavily accented and not all that fluent. It’s easy to live in Jerusalem and get by with English.  She was warm,  enthusiastic and clearly in love with the people who participate in activities at the Center.

The Assistant  Director of the Center, Efrat, is a younger Israeli woman who radiates patience, commitment and, yep,  mindfulness. With a desk full of tasks, she didn’t appear the least bit distracted in her answers to Tzillah’s questions or mine. She had that enviable ability to be fully present for the person or issue of the moment.

Tzillah took me downstairs to watch a young Arab man lead the less mobile group in exercise activity. The room was full of people happily participating; each one doing what he or she could. The exercise wasn’t strenuous, to say the least, and I found myself wondering if I could fill 45 minutes with such minimal movement.

I agreed to start the very next day. Tzillah and Efrat were both extremely appreciative and happy and hustled me into the Director’s office – another woman – this one dressed quite elegantly – who greeted me so graciously I felt a bit embarrassed at my small commitment of 45 minutes a week.

To be honest, there is a bit of an “old people’s smell” and feeling to the building, beautiful as it is. I began to wonder what I’d gotten myself into. I remembered one of my social work practicums which was in geriatrics. Every single person I met in the first week of my practicum, barring none,  was no longer longer alive by the end. Not that I had a hand in their demise, but it was still a bit disheartening.

That night I made a playlist on my iPod especially for the new exercise experience. Tzillah had said that they prefer quiet background music and, indeed, that was what the morning’s volunteer exercise instructor had on.

But I decided that, hey, these folks are old but not dead.

I started out with some quiet but cheerful music to do some pranayama exercises (which I’d call breathing exercises for them). A little Mamas and the Papas and a Beatles instrumental piece or two. And then I kicked into 20 minutes of salsa tunes. Decided to finish up with some quiet sitar music so should I decide to be way out there, I could do some guided imagery with them. (Hmmm…could they hear?)

When I got there the next day I found my class sitting at tables drinking coffee. Uh oh. Wrong place? Wrong time? I headed back upstairs to ask someone what was up and was accosted by a couple of octogenarians…”Are you the new exercise teacher? Come with us!”

Come with them I did and within seconds they had the tables cleared away and the coffee cups disappeared and my group was ready to begin.

They loved the pranayama. They loved the salsa music. They corrected each other putting a hand on a leg “No, not that leg. The other leg.” They smiled and answered when I asked if something was too hard or if they understood what I meant (I’ve taught dance, aerobics, yoga and meditation for decades and rarely heard so much as a mumbled reply).

They closed their eyes and went with me to their very own “safe place” in a 5 minute guided meditation.

When we were done I asked them specific questions about the breathing, the exercise and the guided imagery and they were forthcoming in their opinions – but gently.

“The music was great. We always get a steady diet of boring around here.”

One man said that he planned to try to get back to his safe place that night if he had trouble falling asleep.

But mostly they were just happy and appreciative and friendly and welcoming.

I’d been having an off week. Feeling kind of blah. But I left there feeling a cheerful glow from inside. The smile didn’t leave my face as I left and didn’t leave my heart as I went along the rest of my day.

Today when I walked up the small mountain near my home I saw a beautiful blue butterfly fluttering. I stopped to watch it, waiting for it to rest somewhere so I could take a better look. When it landed on a prickly purple bulb and closed its wings I saw that from the outside it was a decidedly undramatic light brownish grey. Not at all something anyone would stop to look at. But when the butterfly once again took flight, the full majestic glory of that electric blue was quite breathtaking.

What a gift!

And such was the gift of the mostly chair-bound exercise group in that building that smells like old people. The unfolding of their hearts to mine and mine to theirs in return made me wonder who was doing the giving.