schism.ca

So, the new year has started, and with it, a little bit of a resolution. It’s been a while in coming. What I wanted to do was to start meditating. This I did, and then to make things even more interesting and new-agey, I started a beginner’s yoga course, too.

So, that makes me the master of the mats right now. I have one for meditation, and one for yoga.

The meditation one, I suppose, is not strictly necessary. It’s sort of a throwback from the last time I tried to meditate. I’ve been trying to remember when that was, and why I decided to try it, but I completely forget. What I do recall is why I got the mat.

It was as a result of seeing some show somewhere about Muslims and their prayer rugs. As I was watching the show, the thing that intrigued me was the fact that the rug was a sacred item. It’s not used for anything else, and is treated reverently because of what it is. When someone puts the mat down, it’s a way to create instant sacred space, regardless of where one happens to be. I found that really appealing. I’ve long had a problem with ’sacred space’. Most of the time, it doesn’t work for me, because I never feel it’s mine. I do, however, feel it’s really important to have a particular space to do work like this; but it needs to be a personal space, too. Churches feel like sacred space, but they don’t feel personalized enough for me. A labyrinth is good, but only if you can find one, and the outdoor ones are no good for half the year. I felt best when I was in a circle that I cast for ritual during the time where I was a better pagan. The thing about circles though is that for me, they take a lot of time and energy and planning to make them feel right, and the fact that they are necessarily maintained in the mind always made it hard for me to do the work therein. For me, it’s easier to have physical space in addition to metaphysical space. The rug was such a simple, awesome idea. Thank you, Islam.

Not to say there’s no metaphysical component. I love the humble gesture of intent. When I lay down my meditation mat, it’s a sign to my mind that I’m now doing something important and worthwhile that I have chosen to do. It’s also a welcome mat… sort of a way to invite my best self to come on in and reach for me, because I’m reaching for it. And, I love that the more I use it, the more sacred it becomes.

I got the mat at the Farmer’s Market, believe it or not. There’s a pleasant Mennonite woman there who makes the rugs out of worn denim clothing. I can only speculate, but it seems to me that the odds are pretty decent that my mat has material that was worn by Mennonites as they went about their work. Something about that appeals to me. I have a certain respect for these people, and the ways in which they live their lives. I love that the mat is made of things that have been repurposed, and created with human hands rather than by machine. It feels right that its new use is meditation. The religious scholar in me just loves the theological hooks, too: clothing worn by Mennonites, attained by a post-pagan through Islamic inspiration to achieve a work with Buddhist roots. Gotta love me.

I’ve been at it for over a month now, each day 10 minutes was my goal, and I’ve hit it without too much trouble. It really is getting to the point where I even look forward to it a little. The reason I started this time was probably better than the last reason. I have been doing loads of reading lately about mindfulness and meditation and its actual quantifiable benefits. It’s worth it, and for some reason, I feel ready. So far, I haven’t seen any of these benefits that I’m aware of, but I have noticed that I’m much more apt to be in the moment than I once was, and that in itself is a win. I hope I can keep this up from here on out, and maybe even bump the time I devote to more like 30 minutes a day. That’s apparently where one starts to see some pretty impressive benefits, if the studies are right.

The Yoga thing was more because I needed to get some sort of exercise, and I wanted to help out my stiff, tensed, awful little muscles a bit. Oddly, this is the second time I’ve tried Yoga, too. The first time I went by myself and it scared the pants off of me because the positions that required my head to be lower than my heart made me extremely lightheaded when I came out of them. At the end of the class, I very nearly passed out, and I figured that was my body telling me something. This time around though, I’m taking my time about it, and Suz is there to help me out if need be.

So far, so good. I haven’t even really had any trouble with dizziness. Seems that I might be improving without knowing it. I don’t think though that I’ll continue past the beginner’s course. This seems to be another in a line of things (the last one was running) that while good for me, I can’t find my passion about.

There’s got to be something out there that I can both like to do that is also good for me to do from a physical standpoint. I just haven’t found it yet. Ah well, no one can say I’m not trying at this point, anyway.

Maybe if the Yoga mat were as special as the meditation one. Nah, it’s just rubberized machine made sticky stuff.

Much as I’m loathe to use my space on the net as a never ending array of bitching and seeking of pity, I guess sometimes, that’s what I’m inclined to do. In spite of the fact that I’m more blessed than probably 90% of my fellow human beings who do not even have the ability to complain, owing to lack of house, computer, internet access or health good enough, about the things that easily trump my teeny concerns, I still complain and somehow feel like I’m justified to do it. I don’t know what I think complaining will get done, except maybe the act of writing can ease the psychological pressure a little when I’m feeling overwhelmed.

About two hours before I left work yesterday, I got this little headache, which by the time I left, became an astounding headache. By the time I got home, I was feeling godawful sick, and while I tried to eat something, I didn’t get all that far. It was all I could do to swallow a couple Tylenol and go to bed for an hour and a half. While I was lying there half comatose, I swear I heard Suzanne typing away in the next room–an entirely impossible feat, considering she was at a conference across town. I remember thinking that I should check who in the heck was in my house using the computer, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up. It was surreal.

When I finally came out of my stupor some 85 minutes later, I felt all fuzzy and strange, and that feeling is still with me. The headache is this shadow pain that’s just sorta lingering around, and I can’t seem to focus on any damned thing. I just don’t care today. It probably would have been better if I’d stayed in bed and done nothing but listen to the rain fall. Alas, I need to live life I guess.

In the time between waking and going back to bed last night, I wrote. I had yet to inform my journal about the selling of mom’s house and all the things that went with it. It’s a lot to write, and taking multiple days to get through. I hope I can find the time and space to finish tonight. But as I sat there in the light of two candles (which was about all I could handle–some days, I hate these LCDs) sipping my chamomile ginger blend tea, I found my centre again. I really love to sit in the dark and write. I love to listen to good music on the stereo and just put thoughts down on paper with ink. I have this feeling that if I really did have to lose everything, or most everything, that my exorbitant life currently offers, and if I had to pare down to the essentials… well, I think the essentials would be shelter and food (and good tea), journal and pen, books to read, and nice music to listen to. Somehow, I think if I had that, while I may jones to the point of pain for my computer and electronic wonderland, I would stay sane. I would live.

But then, the computer was waiting in the other room, sorta saying “you’ll be back” in its silent, smug, assured sort of way. And, it’s right. It is easy to feel like I lack for nothing and could give it all up when everything is around me just waiting on my decision to use it. One does not need to want what one has. Still some part of me is drawn to the romanticized idea of a simple room, with only the essentials that I need which would then receive all of my attention, because I’d have more attention to give. It wouldn’t be divided amongst all the endless possessions and things going on. In some world, some reality, I think I’d have made an excellent monk.

Alas, the world got me, and its hooks go deep. Beyond just my social and financial realities, they go into my psyche. It’s tough to work with that, so I get swept along.

I guess I should get sweeping again. Lunch is done. Perhaps I can be of some worth today as long as the pain stays at bay, and I can stay awake.

Hey all. Just a little post to tell you of something I noticed, and to ensure everyone I’m still alive and kicking (this of course makes the stupendously optimistic presumption that anyone who cares is reading).

So, I’ve sorta whittled down my current mentors to two, both of whom are talking about pretty much the same thing: mindfulness. The two I’ve been reading of late are Jon Kabat-Zinn, and Thich Nhat Hanh. I really don’t know why I’ve latched on to this idea that mindfulness is some kind of silver bullet. Maybe it’s due to its simplicity–at least on a surface level. Maybe because somehow, it just makes sense. I think the first time I encountered it was in my philosophy of mysticism course back in the undergrad days. Hanh was talking about finding the cloud in the sheet of paper, and for some reason it stuck with me. Then a few years later, Kabat-Zinn showed up on the CBC Radio show Tapestry, and I subsequently searched out his work.

With the exception that Hanh takes too much for granted (that is, he extrapolates a lot as fact–in one example, he says that he can be with someone merely by looking at their picture; something that given how complex people are seems wrong–you can never know someone even superficially by just seeing their image), I can’t find anything wrong with the whole idea of mindfulness. Considering the Buddhists have been using the concept for thousands of years to wonderful effect, there’s not much wrong to find, I imagine.

From a simplistic standpoint, all mindfulness is (to paraphrase Kabat-Zinn), is nonjudgemental awareness of the present moment. It struck me as kinda funny that you can spin that particular phrase into “What are you doing?”, which is the mantra of Twitter. Now I dunno if anyone’s made the connection between mindfulness and twitter, but it’s an interesting thing to occupy a couple of neurons for a few minutes. I did a quick search, and the people who I’ve seen who write about ‘Twitter Buddhism’ aren’t approaching it from a Buddhist standpoint, but rather from a Twitter one.

See, in a lot of ways, Twitter’s not really compatible with mindfulness. It’s a social networking tool. It’s about telling others what you’re doing, or providing bite-sized information like links or upcoming/current events. I spent most of the time since twitter launched wondering what in the hell it could possibly be good for. Others have as well–amusing proof follows:

The problem as I currently see it is one of focus. The focus of Twitter is “out there” somewhere. When you tweet to the world what you’re doing, it’s with the expectation that whoever follows your stream will find what you write useful or amusing in some way. What you’re doing right now isn’t really relevant to you, rather it’s more relevant to whoever’s reading, even though it’s very much about you.

Ask yourself, where does the mind ‘hang out’ when you’re tweeting? Or rather, why are you telling the world what you’re about to tell them? I’m not sure, but the minute you go there, I’d say there’s an excellent possibility that you’re no longer in the present moment. The only way to correctly use Twitter from a Buddhist or mindfulness perspective is to only ever write, “I’m tweeting”.

But I like the phrase because it really can be much more. What are you doing? Well, stop for a minute and think about that. Find the truth about what you’re doing right now, and just acknowledge it. That’s an inward focus. From there, follow it out in a metaphysical way (i.e. find the cloud in what you’re doing), and you might achieve Buddhist Twittering. It’s sort of fun, but defeats the purpose of Twitter proper. I think that to get the spirit of it all, Twitter should change the byline to “What do you want people to think you’re doing right now?” Hm. Not the same charm.

Oh the paths a tired mind will wander…

So here’s a question I’ve been grappling with for a little while; a long while if I think of it, I just never realized it before. First, some context:

There’s this photographer I follow on Flickr. I like her work, and she’s posted a lot of things on there I wish I could do. Recently, she decided that she didn’t smile enough in the photos taken of herself, and decided that she was going to do so more. At the self-same moment, all this Jesus stuff started turning up in the stream. Oh, “let’s glorify god” and all that. I felt decidedly… I dunno, annoyed. Maybe let down.

Selene had this thing once where she said that every time a celebrity or someone famous was ‘outed’ as a Scientologist, they immediately lost all her respect. I feel largely the same way, and, I think I have roughly the same reaction to fundamentalist Christians or any fundamentalist (read obsessively devout) practitioner of religion, even if (unlike Scientology) I consider the system of belief they’re harping on to be a valid way to god.

I suppose my allowance for anyone to believe whatever in the heck they want, and who am I to say they’re wrong sort of does have limits. While I don’t profess I have a right to say anyone’s wrong about anything (for all I know Xenu’s a decent old chap), I do have a right to the opinion that the belief in question is not right for me, and that doesn’t mean I’m any more wrong than they are. The thing that’s truly bothersome to me is that too many otherwise perfectly intelligent, successful, talented, grounded people choose to lose their objectivity and perspective when it comes to their beliefs.

I guess what I’m thinking about here is people who step beyond a certain line, and the more I think of it, the more that line seems to start with the commodification of belief. Whenever someone gets to the point where they believe that ‘this is the way things are’, that there is no way to delineate it any farther, that’s where the problem starts, because you’ve created a commodity, a basic unit for belief. For example, “I am the way, the truth, the light, no one comes to the father except through me.” So, we have THE way. Look–there it is in black and white, delivered through the ages. Do this and you’re happy. Well, if that’s all there was, then fine. You go ahead and believe that, and maybe it’ll even serve you well–get rid of all the distractions of other belief systems (or aliens) as you march toward god, but that’s where this sort of continuum of ignorant belief starts.

The issue is, too often, these people then stride right over the line and, commodity in hand, start to profess this to everyone. It starts with all the irksome subtle things like adding “be glorified in me” to images on your photo stream to the obvious, in-your-face wearing of religious symbols, and it goes all the way to the extreme end of the continuum with people standing on street corners telling people god hates gays and will damn them for all eternity or going to war because my god can beat up your god. After all, MY god said he’s the ONLY god.

I dunno. I think that even most of the people who wear crosses or put goddy (as opposed to gaudy–aren’t I funny) messages up for the world to see would agree that god does NOT want you to go out and kill people just because there’s a difference of opinion. However what these folks don’t see is that they fall on the same continuum. Anyone who puts a message up on a public forum espousing a certain belief is then saying anyone looking at their stuff who has an alternate belief is somehow wrong, and I guess that’s what bugs me.

One of the more valuable things I learned while studying religion is that there is a difference between religion preached and religion practiced. The same people who believe fervently in the Bible will, when cornered, admit that certain parts of the text aren’t something they necessarily take to heart. The vast majority of Jews out there aren’t walking the streets killing gay men just because Leviticus says it’s a cool thing to do. It might be written and preached, but it’s not done, if you get my meaning. That kind of spiritual schism happens in all sorts of subtle ways, all through all KINDS of religions.

The reason for that, I think, is something that many mystics will admit, but few people have really put out there. Martin Buber postulated that, among other things, the connections between a person and god (I-Thou) are deeply personal. Unique, in fact, to the individual. How a person finds god is unique to that person. There’s no rule book, no teaching, no sermon, no nothing that will get you god if you follow the steps. There is an openness and willingness to allow god to tell you how to get to god, and that message is entirely yours, and is not the same for anyone else. While Christians might work in the same structure, that structure has a window to god for everyone in it that’s unique, and no one can use anyone else’s window. That’s at least part of the reason why people’s practiced religions differ from the preached religion they share with everyone else in the church.

And I guess that’s why I always feel irked when someone tries to tell me that theirs is the way, or even tries to suggest it. It’s crap. Theirs is the way for them, and that’s fine. Don’t advertise though… you belittle it for everyone, yourself included. Faith is neither bought nor sold, so don’t try to buy or sell it. All you’re doing by putting it out there on a placard is the same thing Walmart’s doing by putting a smile on a pair of socks.

Meh. Maybe I’m just over sensitive today. Maybe I should just avoid the fundies if it bugs me, I dunno. Too much thought for a Friday, and this is breaking down anyway. Just Buddha. Have a good weekend everyone!

A beautiful evening.
The middle of the year.
Robins dart around.
Feather moving air.
Only a t-shirt and jeans required.
Shoes optional.
Labyrinth is empty.
Surrounded by clover.
Bricks beneath my feet.
Still warm from the day of sunshine.
Contemplative walk.
Earth smells.
From the community garden.
Only meters away.
Cross legged in the centre.
Ants busy themselves at my feet.
I wonder.
Do I look like a giant Buddha to them?
Dogs bark.
Leaves rustle.
Birds sing the last songs of the day.
To the setting sun.
Orange sky.
Midnight blue sky.
The longest day.

Solstice.

I seem to be going through a particularly violent, bipolaresue round of mood swings the last couple days. I’m going to blame it on lack of sleep and all the stuff happening right now causing stress for Suz that inevitably rebounds onto me. But it’s weird and annoying to have a more or less steady stream of down, volatile, self-depricating, short-fusedness accented all over with periods of nearly reverent spirituality and joy. That’s just strange.

But, at least it allows me to talk about the joy when it happens, which is what I want to focus on in my writings here. I find that my personal handwritten journals get more than their fair share of depressing mumbo-jumbo because they’re the place where I try to work things out as much as list my day to day items. Consequently, they’re usually a pretty blah sort of read, and it’s unfair when you look at it as the chronicle of my life. You’d think all I ever did was sit around depressed, and that truly isn’t the case.

For example, last night after dinner out with some friends, Suzanne suggested we go lilac hunting. That’s a new term for an old activity. The lilacs are out in full bloom right now all over the place, and the idea is to find some not obviously belonging to people’s homes and pick a few to cheer our space, and the space of our loved ones.

After a short romp, we found ourselves on a public path close to where we live, bordered by a sports field. There was a large grove of lilac bushes there, and I doubt anyone would notice or care if a few blooms were missing. The smell from the bushes was just heavenly. We picked a fist full and started back.

As I wandered back with my fist full of lilac flowery goodness, I noticed not only the smell of the lilacs, there were all sorts of smells–spring smells. Mown grass from the field, wetlands with their earthy, watery smell, crab apple blossoms and other tree smells. As I took a deep breath, I just couldn’t help remarking to Suz just how much I love spring. I love warm spring walks and fragrant air and new born maple leaves that feel soft to the touch. I wandered through little public paths and felt happy.

These little moments of happiness are things that I strive to remember, even if I can’t often replicate them on demand.

Back in University, before the internet became what it is, and I had the kind of computing power that I do, I recall I used to walk almost every single day around sunset. I don’t recall what I thought of when I did this. Probably whatever paper was due, or whichever part of me was sad that I had no friends or girlfriend at the time. But I do recall I got other stuff out of the walks. I used to notice stuff. Not unlike the smell of lilacs, I noticed everything from the subtle colour changes in the seasons to the movement of muscles on the backs of cats that might come to say hello. Things that seem to pass me by more often than not.

Maybe as part of my hope for serenity, happiness, optimism and joy that I keep falling short of and noticing every year when I do a re-cap I should re-instate a simple directive: If it’s nice out and time allows, go for a walk. It’s funny but in the recent past my walks have always had to have some sort of purpose. A destination, or the desire to come away with good pictures. Maybe just to make walking the point would be good enough.

Yesterday I went to Timmies for lunch. That’s nothing new, all around the business park, Timmies is a common place to go and so at lunch time it fills up pretty dramatically, and I have to wait in line to place my order, where at other times I usually just sort of walk on in and get what I want.

As I got in the substantial lineup, I noticed that at a table right next to me there were a couple of older Asian women who weren’t doing anything, which is why they caught my eye. They were just sitting there, food in front of them, not talking. It became clear in short order that they were actually in prayer before eating.

Prayer before eating has become a little bit of a ritual without a home for me, much as that seems counterintuitive. I mean, it’s home is obviously before I eat. The thing is, it seems like it’s only appropriate under certain circumstances. For me, prayer boiled down to Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners until I met Suz, whereupon it became a little more commonplace although for me wholly reflexive and automatic.

Sitting in a noisy Timmies, among many other people, about to eat a sandwich that was put together using a template and processed food to the point where it’s a exemplification of humanity’s control over its sustenance is not, however, a place I’d expect to see people in prayer. Nor is a Timmies sandwich combo deal–a meal created on a production line by underpaid workers–something over which prayer is worthy. In my usual thinking, that’s reserved for more elaborate dinner affairs.

I felt really odd in that second or two I looked at them, with turkey sandwiches on Timmies china with Timmies tea, sitting all reverent in Timmies uncomfortable hard plastic chairs. The smallest part of me wanted to laugh at the absurdity, but then I realized there wasn’t any absurdity. When I take away all the mental constructions I seem to have around Timmies food and people’s personal rituals, I’m left with the basic, essential act of human beings consuming food. However heavily processed, it’s organic matter that in the case of plants still lives in some way and in the case of animals once had its own limited agenda as an independent, mobile life form sacrificed so humans can go on.

I haven’t a clue what these women were praying when they sat there, but that’s what I tend to do. One of my favourite Thich Nhat Hanh teachings is that of there being a cloud in the page you are reading. It’s a clever way to make you meditate on the interconnection of all things by trying to find the cloud. I’ve often tried to find the cloud in things–it’s always there somewhere. I guess that’s where I feel like I am a part of what’s going on around me, rather than just the passive, alone watcher that no one sees.

Thing is, I don’t do this often at all, and my initial gut reaction of finding some sort of amusement or weirdness in this event is evidence that I not only don’t do it, but find ways to make it silly so I won’t do it in the future. Seems I have many walls set up that are designed to keep me from god.

It is truly weird when a window opens up in an unexpected place and time and reminds me of this. Finding spiritual reminders in a crowded Timmies at lunch time. Who’d a thought?

You recall yesterday when I was talking about the components that make up a ‘good weekend’? That’s the sort that feels like it was actually worth something, and not just so much wasted time. Well, last night was sorta the antithesis of that.

Suz and I had dinner together, and then she left to go visit her dad, and that left me stranded at home, and what did I do? I sat behind the computer, and beyond blogging and finally updating the iPod after my computer crash a couple weeks back, I surfed things that I couldn’t even tell you what they were anymore–that’s how important it all was. I’m sure it was some collection of useless drivel or pictures of mildly amusing things or silly Facebook memes or whatever. Doesn’t really matter. The bottom line is, it did nothing at all for me except waste my time.

The idiotic thing is that when I’m not offering up the precious time I have in my life to the internet, I contrive all sorts of things that I’d like to be or should be doing instead. Off the top of my head, I could have:

• Cleaned up the kitchen or the place in general
• Worked on learning a song I hope to record someday
• Go out for a walk and take some pictures before the sun set
• Do some leisure reading for a change
• Do some simple meditation for 10 minutes, as suggested by numerous health care practitioners in my life
• Write in my journal about some things I’ve wanted to get down on paper
• Sit and listen to an album front to back and really enjoy it
• Go to bed early enough to not feel like a zombie in the morning.

Those are just some of the ideas. And the thing is, I could have done them. No worries, and I may have even been able to look back on last night as good, worthy ‘me’ time. Thing is, once I start, I can’t seem to stop.

I think I must be addicted on some level to gathering information, even if it’s totally useless, and that makes the ‘net a very dangerous beast for me. I feel drawn to the ‘net in spite of my self. I think it’s gotten to the point where the ‘net is surfing me, and I don’t really like that.

So reboot. This evening looks like a carbon copy of last night. Tonight, dammit, I will not waste the evening away on the computer. I don’t know what I will do yet, most likely select one of the items on the above list and run with it. We’ll see if come tomorrow morning I feel any better about life in general than I did today.

Weekends, for me, always run the risk of going by too fast, leaving me feeling sorta jilted. I’ve yet to discover the exact formula for a ‘jilted weekend’, but I’m glad to say this was one of those that went fast, and yet seemed long. Felt like forever since I’d been at the office today.

From what I can tell, the components of a good weekend are two things: First off, filling it with stuff that’s in some way meaningful. I don’t have my finger on that one yet. I do know, however, that a weekend wherein I go on a road trip seems more substantial than a weekend wherein I couch-potato my way through looking at my TV, or surfing the ‘net. The next thing is that whole “present in the moment” business that I also don’t quite get. But it seems like weekends are beefier when I take the time to acknowledge what’s going on around me and happening inside of me rather than simply jumping into the river of life, having the current take me someplace and crawling out again wondering how I got to where I am now. Anyway, for me, it is good to actually do things, and to be ‘fully present’ (dare I use that phrase) when I’m doing the things I do. This weekend was a lot like that.

The only thing I didn’t do that I’d hoped to do was take more pictures of what I was up to. I think if this blog serves the purpose of tracking the day to day, it’d be a good tool for me to just remember what it is I’ve been up to. Maybe that’s the focus I’m hoping for, and pictures would help with that. Perhaps next time. There were a couple of great photo ops, but no time. Le sigh.

So it started on Saturday when I went on a quest for my car stereo. The Toyota stock stereo chewed for multiple reasons: the sound was meh, it had no clock, I couldn’t control my iPod through it, it had only a single line of text, and so on. I spent a load of time after I got the car researching head units and eventually found my baby, but I had to wait for stock to arrive. As it happened, stock showed up Friday. So, I picked up the thing on Saturday morning. Sadly, they weren’t able to install it that day, so I popped by another place, populated with uber-cool early 20’s guys who live and breathe stereos and technogadgets. For a nominal fee, one of them installed the unit while the others chattered and nattered like some sort of uber-cool sewing circle, all the while copiously overusing the word “dude”. It was highly amusing, and I had a really good time just hanging out, watching the stereo getting installed. One of the things that I found while researching is the dearth of information about this unit out there, so for the benefit of anyone else thinking of it, I’m going to review it with a YouTube Video or two in the near future. Overall though, I’m quite pleased so far. I think I made the right choice.

Then the rush around of errand-running that’s common for us on weekends, with the odd injection of a really impressive storm. The first storm of the year always feels a little bizarre to me, just ‘coz I haven’t seen one in a while. This one was particularly awesome though. The wind was something else. For the first time I can remember, I had to pull over in my own home town because driving was too treacherous on the city streets. I was afraid that road signs would be torn off, and indeed, many stop lights in the town were blown totally off-kilter and remain so today. Pretty cool, and now, I can just see things turning green right before my eyes as every plant that’s been patiently waiting for water and sunlight springs to life. It’s wonderful.

Saturday night brought another roaring, laughter filled episode of Random Green Dots, the show that won’t die, even if I want to kill it. Hee hee. I know, sometime soon it’s got to happen, but I just don’t laugh anywhere else, and I’m loathe to give that up, you know?

Then Sunday was taken up mostly by a road trip to Peterborough to hang out with my ritual group, and be reminded of how much I tend to shirk my spiritual side. A side, by the way, that I feel somewhere deep within me I really should feed a lot more than I do, and yet somehow, I don’t. Every time I go to such things, I come away feeling like I really, really should and want to make time for some of this sort of work. Heck, it doesn’t take more than maybe 15 minutes a day. And yet I somehow just never do. It’s like nothing else. Usually, I’d write off anything that I don’t do as a ‘nice idea’ and let it slide–after all, if I’m not doing it, I clearly don’t really want to do it. And yet this keeps tugging at me. It simply won’t go away, even if I don’t feed it. So how do I do something that I deeply want to do, but superficially don’t find time to do? Hrm. I don’t know. However, overall, it was a great thing to do with a Sunday, and I survived the trip intact, and so did the car (it was its first real long-ish road trip). One thing’s for sure about that new car: it certainly doesn’t disappoint on the gas consumption. From KW to Peterborough and back again on 22 dollars of gas. Not bad.

Finally, I managed to get together with my brother for a bit, and then enjoyed Quantum of Solace again to round out the weekend on a relaxing note. Overall, damned fine little weekend. I hope the summer is full of them.