Praise and Thanks to Alan

November continues to be a month of solemn salutes, tributes, and commemorations. For this year, along with things like Remembrance day and Movember, the month holds the 50th anniversary of the assassination of John F. Kennedy down in the states. That event happened before I was born*, in a nation apart from me, and thus I'm more ignorant of it than one who actually lived through that piece of history; but I look upon that day as when the best possible seed for a continuous destiny of positive growth and change for the Americans had died as well, and nothing ever really appeared as a decent replacement in any other equivalent form since then.

Today marks another sad anniversary of sorts. November 16th of this year is the 40th anniversary of the passing of a person who has been a lot more impressionable to me than someone like Kennedy was. I rarely bring attention to the people whom I regard as heroes, icons, and mentors. However for today, it would feel wrong for me not to write something about him.

Alan Wilson Watts
January 6th, 1915 - November 16th, 1973

Alan Watts was a philosopher, and a keen intellect who dared to bring eastern religions to light, comparing them with those ideas of a largely conservative western contemporary establishment at the time, examining it all with strong objectivity, and yet somehow avoiding to "preach" about such things. He often introduced himself as a self-acclaimed "spiritual entertainer"; and he was very effective at this role. It was through his lectures that I was introduced to Zen Buddhism, one thing I began to find more solace in thereafter. What I most liked about Alan was not only his choice of many lecture topics, but his manner of delivering them. I admired him most as a speaker. Whenever I want to really focus on communicating something with a great degree of fortitude and depth, yet with an eloquent, calm, humorous and kindly manner, it's his voice that enters my head that I use as a model for doing it**. He probably did a lot to show me how to freely engage, and courageously make, an esoteric subject much less intellectually abstract, at least as a writer, and proved to me that even liberal and nonsensical use of sound effects in the course of a serious discussion is a good thing and can do a lot to make your point, and that people can take what you say seriously without you taking yourself too seriously. Watts started off being a religious interpreter, but he progressed to examining things more in the spheres of more science and anthropology. What I most appreciate him for is for ultimately being an interpreter of consciousness and how it fits in reality. He made thinking on deeper issues of existence look like fun! Listen to him long and often enough, and you will never allow yourself to ever have another boring thought ever again when you wonder about the metaphysical things in nature.

How exactly I discovered the works and wisdom of Alan Watts escapes my memory: it's still a mystery to me. I just remember that it happened about a decade ago, at a time when I felt most downtrodden, the most burnt-out, and when I was at my worst in failing to feel like a human being of some worth. I was very disgruntled, depressed, and disillusioned. I totally snapped after dealing with a lot of stress, and at the same time being treated like a tool/peon by fools who claimed to be religious, or acting like they were morally superior to me; but at the same time, would press me to do their dirty work, slander, backstab, and would throw me under the bus as easily as flipping a coin. I became distrustful of everyone and completely bereft of a spiritual centre, or an inner happy place to retreat to; and there was no way I was going to return back to those from whom I felt the most betrayal. To this day, I regard religious zealousness and sanctimony, and those who try to be authoritarian through such means, as being far more perverse than any of the vices spelled out by the seven deadly sins. Listening to Alan's lectures helped me emerge from the hatred I was feeling for much of humanity, to finding a curiosity and appreciation about things and wonders of everyday life, and finding more of a place for myself in it. His words and teachings did a lot to rescue me.

I only wish that something more happened that could have rescued him. I wish he lived longer, and I wish I discovered this guy and used him as a teacher and mentor much earlier on in my life. I think I would have made so many better decisions about: who to befriend, how to be rebellious in a manner that's benevolent***, where to find peace, and how to question other people's motives without putting them on the defensive. Alan was not without his own foibles and troubles. Despite being such a personable lecturer, his own interpersonal relationships weren't so easy for him. He had been married three times; each marriage dissolving into separation and divorce. His own death was caused by a heart condition, suspected to be complicated and worsened by chronic overuse of alcohol; dying on this day at a relatively young age of 58 years old. I'm thankful for the treasure trove of his writings and lectures that he had recorded during the time that he was with us on this Earth.

I can't explain the thinking of Alan Watts better than he could himself. So, to close, I'm including the following links of a couple of his more enjoyable/notable talks. Feel free to explore and click on more of his lectures in You Tube, or check out his podcasts, if you wish.

You're It -by Alan Watts

 

Animation by Matt Stone and Trey Parker: the creators of South Park. 

*- In a nation that never had any political assassinations of any of its leaders I must add . . . 
**- I have to sometimes watch myself while I'm doing it though as I speak: because strangely, the British accent he had tends to sneak into the choice of words I use if I'm not careful.
***- Like how both Buddha and Jesus did.
 

Raspberry Friday: Random Acts of Kindness

The trees have denuded themselves enough around here to lead me to believe that it could snow any day now. This observation prompted me to start planning some winterization chores for this weekend; but instead I got desperate to overcome a couple weeks worth of stagnancy from being sick. I have been either penned up too long for that time at home, or when I did go out it was only to do a string of 11 hour days for the past week, which seemed more exhausting than usual. This stretch of days of prolonged indoor time, and my absence, was making a strain for Ella as well.

Monkeying around on the leaning elm
 at Buena Vista Park.

We're both suffering the consequences of my idleness and illness induced lethargy. My joints are stiffer and my pants are fitting more snug; Ella is still hauling around, and adding to, her fat from last winter.

So, we did ourselves a favour, and took a long morning walk yesterday to Broadway and back, for the fresh air and exercise, and to tame down some of her boredom and restlessness. I must say that it's nice to be able to fully and freely breathe and move again.
One nice thing about touring Broadway with the dog is that many of the shops around there are pet-friendly: when we visit, most of the proprietors are happy to see Ella and spoil her with treats. She knows exactly where these shops are, and she knows who is most obliging to giving her some form of munchies. Our long absence of living around there has dulled neither her memory, nor her intimate knowledge at all of these shops and people in the neighbourhood. These trips make her happy; walking my dog and her sharing her happiness for those who want to greet and pet her I suppose is one of my random acts of kindness.

At the door of McQuarrie's Teas & Coffees -
"Hurry up and open, damn it! I needs my jerky!"

I won't pretend to know exactly what thoughts fly around in her little brain on excursions like these, but I would guess that for her it's probably something akin to winning a jackpot at Las Vegas.

Ella wasn't the only one who scored that day. I also was treated to a random act of kindness from some stranger. It was a bit strange. It happened after our walk, after I conceded to doing some recycling and purging of stuff before doing anything else involving winter prep. I hauled out and traded in some books, cycling with loaded packs of them to my favourite used bookshop; adding considerably to my redeemable store credit. I suspect that the act may have been from the woman who was locking her bike to the rack at the time when I first arrived there. She was in her early fifties*; quite athletic-looking and well-kempt. She seemed well-educated, yet humble. We exchanged good mornings and started a conversation about our appreciation for the fact that it was still agreeable and decent cycling weather, and that the snow hasn't arrived yet. Somehow, the topic smoothly switched to cross-country skiing; both of us learning that the respective other was equally a novice at it. We were complete strangers to each other, but the different thing about this encounter was that I took the initiative of speaking with this person as if I knew her all my life; I don't know why. The whole chat was no more than two minutes long. She hurried off to do some shopping in a non-dismissive manner, and I went along my way to do my business. I returned to my bike a half hour later. Hers was gone, but I found a pint container of fresh raspberries that came from the neighbouring Safeway, propped on top of my bike seat. There was no note or anything. I looked around for her, or for other onlookers/witnesses to question, or for other clues in the parking lot, to gather if it indeed was this anonymous stranger who was the donor, but there wasn't anyone or anything else conspicuous around for a correct conclusion. I could only assume.

Tuning myself into writing this story was just as random and reasonless as the act that prompted it. It certainly isn't a real epic or profound one. I think I only troubled myself to write it because I realize just how much more likely I am to regularly encounter and witness random acts of idiocy/craziness from anonymous strangers in public than I am in seeing anything else comparable to this raspberry treat incident. This gesture, as odd and small as it was, put a smile on my face for the rest of the day, and gave me a little more peace of mind. The raspberries were enjoyed with some yogurt and honey, and with a lingering hope that I might meet this person again, or another like her. Unfortunately though, I'm already beginning to forget the finer details of what she looked like.

Selfless and random acts of kindness toward strangers shouldn't have to be epic or profound. Sadly, most of us are standing around like we are waiting for some reason or license to perform them, or get caught up in analyzing: foolishly hoping and dwelling, about what sort of credit we should be ultimately owed for doing such things. It's too bad that more people don't give themselves equal license or attention into inhibiting themselves from doing selfish and random acts of idiocy/craziness.

* - My stupid bloody hair colour always garners me more attention from older women than from ones who (I think) are more age appropriate for me. Thanks a lot . . . stupid chromosome number four.

Home Office Zen

"I consider "work" in its most universal sense, as meaning anything that you want or need to be different than it currently is." - David Allen, author of Getting Things Done

I love that definition of work: it's elegant, simple, yet progressive. I used much of my Thursday and Friday performing upgrades and sorting and purging old files (hard and soft) from my hard drives and cabinets, and posting and distributing stuff I had for correspondence. De-cluttering and clearing all that stuff up to completion felt like a monumental achievement. Happiness is ending a day with a paper-free desk and clear work table. I'd like to keep those spaces that way for a while. In theory, eventually the emptiness of those spots after a couple days will prompt and beckon me to think and focus on what I really want to see in that office space for ideas and creativity which translate to the components of projects that I want or need to tackle next. Hopefully, this effort will serve me in the same way as having a weed-free field does in which to plant stuff. However, if I still have to work my night shift on Monday, it will be pointless to begin anything before then. I shouldn't be entertaining, or playing around with the stupid, trippy ideas I get after any prolonged bout of insomnia.

I say 'components of projects', because the habit of deconstruction is something I have to learn how to use and value more. Everything I plan to do in the next while will be multi-staged, I have only small windows of personal time at home nowadays, so it's necessary that I break things up into smaller ordered tasks.

My knee is getting somewhat better; slowly though. I'm lucky that I didn't get hasty for an early registration for the Mogathon half marathon Race, which is happening today, I would have had to withdraw my application and lose my money. However, for each week of progress my joints are making in healing themselves, it seems like the heart/lung function and breathing capacity that I worked so hard in building up for in training are degenerating twice as quickly.

The Smells of Autumn, Ignore The Media Day

It has registered to me that it is officially Fall today. It's not the sight of the turning leaves that's the signal; it's what my nose tells me. It's the effect of that optimal amount of briskness in the air that condenses the aromas in it just a little more, cleansing the smell palette, giving scents a significantly more animated play on the mind, and the memories they instantly conjure up; especially during the cooler evenings.

It was great to cycle back home tonight and breathe in the air and the smells in it. Riding down a street through the smell of birch wood burning from one of the last pit fires that someone will have for the year in their backyard was intoxicating. It instantly made me feel comfort on a deep visceral level. Cruising past one of the seniors' complexes on my route homeward I caught that exact smell, wafting out of some open window, that matched one of my earliest memories of the aroma of my Baba's* delicious cabbage rolls being fried and browned with that perfect dose of finely minced onions and salted lard. That memory struck me as if I were hit by that very grey speckled enameled frying pan she used to fry them in after I smelled that. There is a signature note as the plants begin their respiratory phase in the evening, a sweeter tea-like one coming from the neighbourhood gardens, as extra sugars, starches, and life energies are being used and infused into the last of their fruits and seeds; they are labouring to do their best before the killing frost arrives, which could be any day now. If that's what the smell of plant sweat is, it's a welcome one. I wonder if this sense of smell intensification is an evolutionary thing: a prompt for us to start eating more and fatten up for the coming winter. There are some unpleasant odours that become intensified as well, like that of the migrant skunk wandering around somewhere around my block, and other people's BO, but for the most part they are clean and refreshing. This magical effect that the air has now, during this week or so just before the actual autumn equinox and the frost, is what makes this my most favourite part of the fall season.

Yesterday was September 11th. It too was a very pleasant day. What helped make it a good day was a mindful choice. For about eleven years now, I have informally adopted and endorsed a personal tradition for that day I now term "Ignore the Media Day". Everyone should give it a try. It generally goes as such:

• You avoid the newspapers and all news related programming; better yet, just don't watch TV, or tune into the radio, or surf the Internet at all. Don't worry. . . you will survive!
• You consciously opt to wake up and start out the day by making it better for yourself and others in the present, instead of listening to some talking head on a news program regurgitating stories about a woeful past, or ones that spark fear about the future.
• You don't let word of negative events and propaganda at home, or from half a world away, control you, or let it determine what kind of 'mood' or 'day' you should have. You, and you alone, are solely responsible for that.
• Realize that all national and global news you watch and hear, no matter if it's mainstream or alternative, from CNN to Al-Jazeera, is broadcast to satisfy a broader political agenda: to influence and control you with uncertainty, fear, and your own sense of outrage. The corporate interests then attack you with ads so you can quell these fears with mindless consumption.
• Realize that there is something really pathetic about someone who sits around watching news all day indoctrinating themselves with political claptrap, and then acting like a self-righteous intellectual, yet who but never goes outside of their little room to interact with the real world.
• Dare yourself to try something creative and original for a change for some progression toward your own betterment and inner peace rather than immersing yourself in the details of someone else's meme warfare.
• Wave you nation's flag less, and wave hello to your neighbour more.
• Try reading something more rational, and completely unrelated to politics, economics, and religion: things which are most likely to create civil unrest and wars.
• Avoid online discussions about 'this day in history', or any other so-called 'related current day events'. It is said that time heals all wounds, but not when you are exposed to a constant stream of depressing stories that keep ripping off the scabs. Do you automatically remember the details of the Blitz in London during World War II? Of course you don't. Thousands more innocent civilians died in a single day during those times, and a lot more historical and cultural edifices were lost than a couple of skyscrapers, but there wasn't the constant memorializing and intensifying of the tragedy with constant replay of events in the media, depressing and demoralizing people; the prevalent simple, more positive message, was "Keep Strong and Carry On." People actually got on with their lives, and worked for the better.
• Avoid those who always try to find some soapbox to stand on. Generally, I find those who are constantly pontificating their opinions about world events they can't control continue to blame others for their personal problems that they are perfectly capable of fixing themselves, but choose not to; constantly externalizing their flaws. They may also try to con or guilt you into believing in taking ownership of some of those problems that, in reality you have no part of. Like the news, they try to involve you unnecessarily. Avoid these morons like the plague, along with other such nagging personalities. Be courageous enough to enjoy peaceful quality time alone rather than hanging around these sorts of people.
• Get outside and enjoy the beautiful fall day. Get some exercise, eat some real food, and most importantly, breathe in and savour the air.

*- Baba = My Ukrainian grandmother; and no, she never hit me with frying pans, she was a loving person. That was hyperbole.

Pre/Post Birthday, Welcoming Fall

The best summer day I think I experienced this year was on this last Thursday evening. It's futile for me to struggle to find the right words for it: I can't describe perfection. The beach for the most part was great, the way the light hit the water on the lake as I was paddling around it made it both serene and surreal. The yellowing leaves along the shores reflected a golden aura around everything as the sun began setting. It was just a perfect way to close out another year of living, as it was the eve of my birthday.

The details of how I spent my birthday are too personal to share. I had quality time for solitude, and better moments with the company I did have. I was just happy to have the kind of time needed to do some navel-gazing that couldn't be impeded by any interference that remotely resembled work. Sitting still and giving myself time to think and reflect was about all I was capable of doing for a long while after the morning of that day. I tried to make some glorious (foolish) attempt that morning to break my all-time distance record for running; but the gaps between hydration stops were too large, and I was beginning to get some cramping and sciatic seize-ups. It forced me to limit myself to doing just a bit over a half-marathon distance. However, I did achieve my secondary goal of crossing all six bridges in this town. I'll need about another day from now to recover soundly after all that before I hit the trails again.

An Irish folk music band at the
Farmers' Market. Worth the
extra effort to shop locally.

The one thing I will comment about of what I gathered during my moments of sitting still and brooding on my birthday is just how much my tastes for some things have changed over time. Now, if I want an adventure, I seek something cultural or culinary rather than trekking on some weird expedition. I look at the value of objects with a more practical and larger-view attitude than with what their supposed monetary value is. Some pictures I took as I ambled around the Farmers' Market and Broadway Street Fair yesterday illustrate this point better.

My thinking today. . .a total
White Elephant.

For example, years ago, I may have been impressed and amazed to actually find a Lotus convertible, like this one shown here that I found yesterday, on the streets of this town. Now, my manner of thinking automatically comes to, "Someone has way too much money to waste on exposing and maintaining this lovely machine in the environs of this wretched climate." My attitude now is such that if you really want a sense of freedom and power, don't get a luxury sports car, or a palatial home, or anything else signifying ridiculous excess. Why get an over-powered car when you can only drive as fast as the idiot in front of you in traffic? A bigger home only compels you to waste time and energy filling it up with shit* you really don't need. I really can't be troubled with keeping up with the Joneses. Opulence and affluence doesn't really impress me anymore, I'm not sure if it ever really did. My idea of what real wealth is has changed radically, especially upon the realization of how the actual 'value' of money is established. I learned much while dabbling around the FOREX markets. It's completely arbitrary, and stupidly assigned and regulated through the means by which ultimately there is a shortage or deprivation of something for someone else, and is maintained by a system that keeps others in debt and impoverished. The drive for the super/hyper-accumulation of monetary wealth ultimately signifies one's willingness to take part in creating suffering of someone else and depletion of resources. The greed of an affluent few makes slaves and prisoners of too many.

Braised Beef Tendons from the
Mandarin Restaurant, my lunch after
my tour of the Farmer's Market.
Years ago, I wouldn't have been
so daring. This cured my aching knees.

The "wealth" I'm most impressed with and interested in now is that by which knowledge and resourcefulness is focused to use that which is deemed unusable, and puts it into a whole new light: quite literally in one case. For this instance, I was amazed by a Facebook post of a Chinese artist who took discarded drinking boxes, and created them into functional and aesthetically pleasing geodesic designs for lampshades. I've been totally enthralled, after reading articles, about the ingenuity of those eccentrics who can build homemade robots out of stripped down laser jet printers, and a crafty application of open source Arduino boards and Raspberry Pi circuits. These, plus those who can grow and produce actual foodstuffs, are the people I'll be seeking out when a global financial meltdown, energy crisis, or some other kind of apocalyptic collapse comes; not the buggers with the shiniest toys.
Gastronomically, I'm becoming more fascinated by chefs who are using entrails and offal and turning them into gourmet cuisine. I think I freaked my brother out a little bit when he phoned me to offer me a birthday greeting. Because he is a meat inspector, I presented the question to him as to where I could find a clean source of hog's blood for making my own homemade sausages**
I'm seeing innovation in what is simple and traditional (for others), and seeing the value of salvaging, and viewing those who squander and waste stuff with a lot more disdain. What I seek more of are truly Zen moments, like I had at the lake last Thursday. That's how I'm changing as I get older.

Along with this fall's harvest of fine fresh, and unconventional food, I welcome the prospect of discovering more unconventional, yet stunning, innovative ideas. I heard a rumour that there is a STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) expo coming to town sometime this month. I hope I'll get a chance to check some of it out.


* - I love that observation made by George Carlin: something akin to . . . "Have you ever noticed that as you accumulate things that your shit is "stuff", and other people's stuff is "shit'?

** - Blutwurst, boudin noir, black puddings, kishka, morcilla . . .whatever foreign or euphemistic name you give "blood sausage", it's damn delicious, and lately I've been having weird cravings for it. I first sampled it in an Argentinian parilla joint in Valencia. I can't find a source of it around here, so I'm relegated to try making my own.

This Round of Vacation Time

I was hoping to make the beginning of next few days off something more eventful and less dutiful and tedious than dusting, cleaning floors, reorganizing cabinets and closets, and scrubbing porcelain and tiles, but that's all it has been mostly so far. Vacationing is about doing what you can to bring about some peace of mind and a sense of satisfaction. Clearing and cleaning my space, and seeing things put into order satisfies me and brings more peace of mind: therefore it wasn't wasted time. I felt it had to be done first before I could move on with anything else. I correlate a clean and well-ordered home as a reflection of, or a least an attempt to allow for, a more focused mind.

The other meaningful thing I did was daring myself to seek company outside my regular social sphere. I used Meetup.com to find groups in my area with common interests. I wish I could find the right words to use to express my elation and satisfaction about finally finding and interacting with an actual group of people in this town who:

1. have many similar interests and values as I do
2. have higher ideals about well-being, and life-balance
3. actually deploy reason and common sense
4. understand what I'm saying
5. are people with whom I can speak to without having to dumb myself down 
6. actually read contemporary literature
7. aren't constantly stewing in/spewing out negativity and drama
8. aren't deluded and sanctimonious idiots, who act as if their shit doesn't stink
9. take ownership of their problems, and share successes and failures about dealing with them
10. who are actually supportive, cooperative and encouraging in another person's attempt at betterment

It's remarkably rare these days for me to meet an average person who can exhibit all of these qualities. My only regrets are: not finding these people sooner, and knowing that once I go back to my regular work schedule, my chances for meeting up with them will be rare.

I had my cable TV service re-installed a couple days ago. My HD receiver/PVR was upgraded; although there's now super-sized interface, with some features and options that add a bit more razzle-dazzle to viewing/recording, I still find that the channel selection is still limited and uninteresting. It made me seek refuge in the bookstores and library. I shouldn't be re-visiting such places, because I constantly overwhelm myself. I already have a personal mega-super-syllabus of reading materials of interest to me that I want to absorb, which I would already need several lifetimes to do. When I explore those bookshelves, I add to the inventory exponentially. I really need to have a more effective method of speed-reading.

Reading, napping, cycling, running, healthy cooking/eating, strength training, playing Jeopardy; watching PBS, TED, movies; drinking coffee/tea/beer, solving puzzles, meditating, language acquisition, painting, CAD and web designing, programming spreadsheets, list making, testing mnemonics, math problems, blogging, and avoiding the bullshit of the EX pretty much summarizes the remaining hours of leisure time I'll use for my next few days off.

Zen and Car Shopping

This morning is close to feeling frosty, but I still troubled myself to make time very early this morning to drink coffee on the deck. It's probably the only real moment of peace I'll be able to find today. Some co-workers lately have commented to me on how stressed I look. Sure, I have some weighty issues to contemplate, but it's mostly due to lack of sleep, because I am still having a challenge in being able to settle myself where I'm physically comfortably enough to be free of my remaining aches and pains. I notice how badly I've been dragging myself through the latter half of each day for the past week as a consequence of it.

I've healed up enough though, and now physically mobile enough where I can finally get on with wrapping up the sordid business of settling my insurance claim, so I can finally ditch my old wreck of a vehicle instead of still relying on it to get around. I'm grateful that I'm finally made it to a state where I can walk almost normally, and can endure a prolonged biking trip at least halfway through the city and back. I'll have to manage with doing more of both walking and cycling; since as of today, I'll be carless for an indefinite period of time.

Running, however, still has been too physically demanding and problematic. I still can't push my pace or breathing anywhere near to the intensity I used to do: not without risking more damage. The inner muscles surrounding my lower leg bones are super-tight; my tibia and fibula feel like they are encased in steel pipe. My chances for racing by month's end are looking really hopeless.

Along with that, I've been frustrated and disappointed with so many other things during this week. They range from car shopping still being a bothersome gong show, to discovering the deceptive means that our province's social services use to screw over care aide workers and those they serve, all with the attitude of: "you're just pawns in this game". It's an ongoing adventure in discovering how ignorant, corrupt, and stupid people are, and the lengths they'll go to try to shaft you. I don't mean to get preachy, but it's a good moment to reflect and examine some of the past-goings on, and to put them in a Zen context.

I think of the example of dealing with the matter of car shopping alone to illustrate this. I have been delaying car shopping for quite some time. Procrastination? Maybe, perhaps a little of that . . . but there was also a strong, nagging, instinct in me telling me that I wasn't ready for it yet. In Zen Buddhism, there is the teachings of the three unwholesome roots, also referred to as "the three poisons". They are: hatred, greed, and delusion. On a more primary level, they in turn are generally connected with ignorance, attachment, and avoidance, which are the components and sources of all suffering. In car shopping, while trying to heal myself, it's inevitable that I'd be confronting and clashing with those three elements within myself and in others. The (incomplete) breakdown is as thus, with crossovers and connections between each point:

• Hatred (Avoidance) - hating getting injury irritated by moving around, to appointments that could turn out to be just a pointless waste of time; more negativity and distrust of the sellers, frustrated by misrepresentation in the ads; frustrated by limited mobility; hating not having a work schedule that accommodates me to look at cars at the times when most are available for viewing; dealing with insurer and the idiot who rammed me; I dislike shopping most of the time to begin with, and it's now worsened by feeling pressured to do so out of necessity; ultimately wanting to avoid the feeling of being deceived and cheated; new debts, higher registrations fees, etc.
• Greed (Attachment) - Sellers assigning too much value to a high mileage/older car; me being strict and inflexible with a personal budget; me wanting to use time to rest rather than kick tires; wanting/liking a car and then finding out too late that it has been sold; feeling a lack of options, and forced to buy something out of some duress; buying more than I can afford in the long run.
• Delusion (Ignorance) - my impatience for wanting to heal faster, yet still forced to do things that are counterproductive to allow for it; seeing a person not acknowledging the flaws I detect when I examine a vehicle, and/or flat out trying to bullshit me about them; not having the right senses to detect the real performance of the car and poor/rash decision making (being on pain-killers); failing to ask the right questions/missing details; lacking a consumer confidence in making the right decision for myself; the clash between the reasoning about what is practical need, and what I find more sensually appealing; having too high a standard on things that matter less: having too low of a standard on things that matter more.

Along with healing to get better mobility, delaying (procrastinating) was one way to mentally detox, to clean some of these poisons out of the mind, if I really wanted to put a champion's effort into wisely buying a vehicle, but it's important to limit it before it turns into another form of avoidance.

So today, I face the reality of trying to crack open the trunk for the first time since the collision*, to clear out and salvage my vehicle's contents, and load my bike in there to permit myself a means to ride to the bank with my settlement afterward, and return home. My car served me well enough, but I'll be happy to finally rid myself of that little beast, and move onward. I have no special sentiments attached to it: no regrets, no tears. It just gave me lots of lessons (and repairs) to process for the time I had it.

Back to a more intensified effort toward walking, biking, and hopefully running, better . . . for a little while hopefully.

*- It doesn't matter if it can be shut again, since the car is heading to the scrap yard after I drop it off at the claims centre. Addendum: as expected, the damn trunk didn't close once I dropped it off there.

Viva La Home

I did this very deliberately and purposely. I am using one of those cushioned laptop desks, which is propped up on top of my legs, that are raised and perched on an ottoman, while I'm seated in the bunny chair*, which I'm realizing I rarely ever use. I only have one ass, and it regularly prefers the chesterfield for comfort, but my habitual way of slopping my body into it isn't doing much good for a supportive healing posture right now, nor is it doing a lot to settle down my soreness and aching. This new spot is sort of a therapy: with this position, and the computer on my legs; it's a method of effectively pinning myself down so to force to me to stop walking/squirming around, and to just sit still, for at least an hour at a time. The chair is really on the smaller side as far as armchairs go, and it doesn't recline much, so it keeps me seated reasonably upright and in a more relatively confined, restrictive position without sacrificing too much comfort and support. Otherwise, I've either been too restless, or too distracted by pain, to simply use the moments to just meditate. Who in the hell can, or wants to, focus on the here and now if all that's there is real bodily discomfort? Thus, I'm not being very Zen. My mind is straying into realms of what I would, should, must, ought to, want to, need to, or have to, be doing instead of accepting the present moment. A time like this has been a harsh glimpse into how I'd be (un)able to cope if, God forbid, I ever had to go on long-term disability that impairs senses or mobility, or I had to manage through a similar such retirement.

I wrote an entry a while ago about having simple comforts and entertainment at home, titled The Four Square Meter Kingdom, I just reviewed it. Comparing my attitude back then with my sense of suffering and inconvenience now, is like touring two different worlds. Sure, having a chance to seek solace at home during a most brutal winter season was a welcome thought**, but it's "warmer" now, and it is so counter-intuitive for me to just sit around. The thing I'm realizing, sitting in a chair that I haven't actually used in months, is just how alienated I have become in trying to rest and relax within my own walls, and I'm questioning now about exactly how much time I actually do use to consciously live in my own home. Most of my workdays are 10-11 hours long, and then there's the time used commuting, shopping, running/fitness, walking the dog, and attending other appointments (mostly medical now): all outside of home. Days off, or free weekends, are just catch up time for other projects. My remaining waking hours used in here are used mostly being busy in the utility spaces: my kitchen and office, trying to research/plan/economize on things, then there is the time used for cleaning and maintenance, not relaxing or interesting stuff. The actual typical leisure time I have left is two to three hours for generally reading/writing, Internet, or TV between work and sleep. So, I now wonder, is this really living? Is this really as thrilling and adventurous as I've been allowing life to get? It's totally weird to be finding myself off on a stretch of days like this with more empty hours. As time goes on, I'm feeling more and more estranged from anything that involves engaging in social recreation***. I reflect and realize now about whenever I do have actual "vacation" time: just how poorly I use it. I know I'm not alone in feeling and thinking this way.

I brought home a stack of magazines and books from the library after my last appointment, more so to keep the passing of this time on the cheap side, to budget for more impending chiropractic and massage treatment bills. Amongst them is one fittingly called At Home: A Short History of Private Life, by Bill Bryson. Initially, I never gave much thought about the prospective content of the book; I just really like Bryson as a non-fiction writer, and I haven't read this particular book of his that he wrote yet. He can take the most ordinary of things that most people take for granted, and he'll explain them as amazing topics embellished with detail, with a profound and interesting commentary on their placement and effect in our social history. He definitely is not a textbook writer. Dull things look extraordinarily meaningful, which I thought would be a welcome type of diversion to practice for around here right now. This book, wonderfully, adds a new and fresh  perspective about the development of housing throughout the course history, and the forces and cultural events that determined our very social evolution of lodging ourselves and way we design, assign, and utilize the space inside what we designate as our home. It should be required reading for architects, cultural anthropologists, interior designers, sociologists, psychologists, history teachers, engineers, economists, or people who just want to market home and furniture supplies, like with RONA, IKEA, or Home Depot.

Addendum: Today it officially is six months of winter for this region: snow coverage since Oct 22, 2012. If we still have snow around here by May, I think we'll be seeing a few people around here going postal.

*- It's called the bunny chair, not because it looks like a kiddie chair with pictures of bunnies on it, but because its former owner claimed that it was mostly used by their family pet: a rabbit. I found through local online buy and sell ads, and got it for free. An effort to reduce, reuse, recycle. There are marks around the base of the chair of evidence where the rabbit gnawed and scratched at it. Ella was sniffing at it suspiciously for a few weeks before she felt comfortable enough to use it. She, of course, is the most frequent user of this piece of furniture, it's the perfect size for her to curl up on.

**- Despite the weather and having moments of opportunity to do so, I rarely ever used them to just to dwell in those 4 square meters for any prolonged amount of time, like I have now.

***- Mostly due to the fact that my hours of work are skewed into the zone of when everyone else has their evening/weekend social entertainment hours.

Groundhog Day, Taboo Night

I bought some kvass today at the Ukrainian import grocery store, and I'm enjoying some as I write this. I don't know what is different about this new brand*, but it seems to be both sticking my brain into overdrive, and making me a little more disinhibited in thinking.

If the cold snap we had, with wind chills dipping down to -48 degrees, had extended into today; and if any groundhog, like Wiarton Willie**, was a resident here in Saskatchewan, I'm imagining that the result after prodding the little bugger to give us a forecast would be just a scene of a furry little rodent arm sticking out from the burrow's entrance, just long enough to give everyone the finger, and then quickly disappearing; with no other trace of him to be seen again until well into mid-April (of perhaps next year).

Thankfully, for this Groundhog Day, it has finally become 25 degrees 'warmer' (the wind chill was still below -20). Groundhogs weren't poking their heads outside around here today, but at least the people finally were, most looking quite grateful for the reprieve. It was my day off, and being concordant with the spirit and theme of the movie, Groundhog Day, I have been desperate for anything radically different from what's coming to look like an infinite loop of cold mediocrity.
I couldn't think of anything else happening locally that was a more fitting way to get out to a social venue and celebrate the escape of such monotony than to explore Taboo 2013.

Taboo is the first consumer expo I got to check out for the year for this new trade show season. It's basically a forum for all things erotic, sensual, and generally anything else 420 friendly. Around this conservative town, this is the closest it gets (as far as I know) to being anything as sort of Mardi Gras-esque. Watching the dancers was the most entertaining part of the event for me. I have a new respect for the strength and grace involved in the art of pole-dancing. It was packed. I don't usually opt to go to such crowded venues, but this was different. I show up to such things to view and study them anthropologically: to basically people watch.

What really makes me happy and interested about such an event, besides seeing scores of beautiful women, is seeing all types of people, of all adult ages, come out of the woodwork, and enter this public place walking around there with a sense of being liberated and being real about what they enjoy and want to include in the most private aspect their lives; it's like you can see it in their eyes. The atmosphere is sort of rich with good karma when people are in a zone with the intent of finding, or learning about, something that's pleasurable for themselves and their loved ones. When people are leaving the useless emotions of guilt and shame at the door, being completely honest with themselves about what truly pleasures them on the level of bodily sensuality, delusions are shattered. I'm happy when I find and discover people genuinely being this honest about themselves. One would find more honest people at a event like this than they would in a church, or any other religious congregation***. When delusions about living are stripped away, we approach enlightenment. This is what Zen teaches me****.

After being there, I realize that this is the first time in a long time that I've sensed that kind of air of positivity. I'm wishing now that this event occurred more than just once a year.

Adding this thought latently: if I were the groundhog responsible for forecasting the climate of others' negativity, I'd be seeing lots of ominous shadows. Hunkering down somewhere, away from it all for the next six weeks, seems pretty much like the more attractive option right now.

* Perhaps it was brewed from rye grown around Chernobyl, that was tainted with some sort of radioactive ergot spores, that made some super-potent residue LSD. Just a theory.
** Canada's version of Punxsutawney Phil
*** It's been my experience that the more people are tuned into religion, the more likely they are to slander and back-stab me.
**** I forget the name of the monk involved in a Zen story I heard, but the story goes as such: there was once a Zen Buddhist monk in feudal Japan who was approached by the abbot of his monastery, who heard testimomy from reliable sources that this monk often caroused, and took carnal pleasures with consorts and other servants. When the abbot confronted him about his conduct, the monk's open and honest retort was something like this: "Enjoying the company of, embracing, and making love to a beautiful woman . . . how can anyone ever think that this is the gateway to hell?" 

Entry 100

I'm surprised that this will be the one hundredth entry in this space, so I thought I had better make this one especially meaningful.

In light of what recently happened through this past week, I've been struggling hard trying to figure out and focus on what good is left in this world. I need not add extra commentary about the recent events in Connecticut. The news services are over-broadcasting the story and surrounding issues of it enough as it is, and consequently overwhelming us with more fear and sorrow during a season when we are trying to seek comfort and joy.

Above is a picture of a little baby boy; he's not just any baby boy. Currently, he is one that I have the greatest responsibility of caring for, and the one I am trying hardest to not get any further estranged from. I keep this picture of him with the rest of my family photos on a table in my bedroom, so he is amongst one of the first things I see when I wake up, and one of the last things I see when I go to sleep: as a reminder to stay strong enough to keep on nurturing him.

There were/are a lot of challenges in raising this particular human being for his particular needs, but I generally summarize them all to the following matters:

1. Not doing anything stupid that would lead to injury, or the death of this human being.
2. Not letting him waste his time being too long exposed around senseless, shallow, spiteful, obnoxious, ignorant, arrogant, negative, deluded, destructive people.
3. Trying even harder to not allow him to become like the aforementioned types of people when confronted by such beings.
4. Doing whatever gives him a sense of wonder and value about life, and making allowances to educate him, and allow him to grow for the better.
5. Making sure he wakes up each day with some sense of purpose, or at the very least a productive/mind-stimulating interest.
6. Helping him find valuable moments to laugh, be creative, relax, explore, and play.
7. Making sure he intends and acts in such ways that (ultimately) do more good than harm for himself and others.
8. Keeping him aware that it is ultimately he himself who is responsible for his own happiness and welfare.*
9. Reminding him to be thankful and appreciative when he finds people nice enough to provide acts of kindness for him and the sake of his happiness and welfare.

Those are the basic elements that I would say are essential to keep an individual within the realm of  sanity and mindful of personal responsibility. I'm not saying that I'm terrifically successful, in word or deed, at providing/teaching any one of those things to this fellow. I'm especially bad at teaching him points 2, 3, 6, and 8. However, I haven't found a day yet when all these things were absent from the board.

I suppose most of you who know me are wondering now who that child is, so let me introduce him to you. His name is Brian. That is a photo of me taken when I was 10 weeks old. The point I'm trying to make here is that we all have at least one child, no matter who we are, in our life to take care of. The skill sets that I mentioned apply not only to looking after a newborn life; they apply to taking care of our own grown adult selves as well. It all comes down to the question(s), "How could you ever even dare to harm this (little) person?", or "How do I want to help make this little guy or girl grow up right?" Once we do that, and then realize that we all were once that small, weak, innocent, and vulnerable, we (perhaps) empathize more, become a lot more mindful to do more things to nurture ourselves and others better, and to protect ourselves and others from our own craziness and stupidity, and be less prone to developing into some sort of soulless monster. All homes should have at least one baby picture in them, and they should be meditated on frequently: especially if the baby in the picture is all grown up, living alone and independently, and responsible for (and having some unique stressors for) being one's own sole provider of one's household and livelihood.

Some of you may roll your eyes and laugh and scoff at what I just wrote, but I can't help but to wonder if rampage killers of the likes of Marc Lépine (the Dec 6th, 1989, Montreal École Polytechnique shooter), the teenage psychos who shot up Columbine High School in 1999, James Eagen Holmes (the 2012 Aurora Theatre shootings), Anders Behring Breivik (2011 Oslo bombings/Utøya Island shootings, Norway), and most recently, Adam Lanza (the Sandy Hill Elementary School shooter) could have done what they did had they looked at themselves as children in a photo a little more often and asked themselves those same questions.

*- I have more than enough examples for this child of how a woman/girlfriend/wife isn't a static solution, the pretentiousness involved with success/status/fame aren't solutions, and of how money can't buy your way out of some problems. You will be doomed if you are constantly and desperately relying on any or all of these things for your happiness and welfare.

Stranded Alone with Couch Thoughts

“Be crazy! But learn how to be crazy without being the center of attention. Don’t worry; you will survive, and you will have a lot of fun.”  

– Paulo Coelho (taken from the book Veronika Decides to Die)

I woke up in the morning a couple days ago to see everything blanketed by about 10 centimeters of new snow. There was a slick sheet of frozen rain under all that snow, so walking and driving was somewhat treacherous for the past couple days. I'm pretty sure, even though the weather reports are predicting plus six Celsius daytime temperatures later this week, that most of this stuff will be staying on through until next spring. What I'm most thankful for right now, with the way my back is now, that I don't have to be responsible for shoveling and clearing any sidewalks.

I'm a little better than I was before Halloween. I can at least sit down and stand up more comfortably, and I think I might be able to put my shoes on today without feeling an urge to scream.

This past spell of forced immobility to avoid extra pain wasn't all bad, it didn't tax my wits and sanity as much as I thought it would. In fact, it was a bit enlightening in some ways.

Firstly, my limited movement made me think with a little more empathy about the people I serve. Secondly, I became very grateful (and very overwhelmed even), as to how many possible things I still have the ability to do (that involve no extra cost), even while confined to a bed or couch to help to keep making my life an actively enriched and engaged one. I'm not saying that I'd be any better than anyone else at adapting, or adjusting, to a situation involving temporary or permanent physical disability. I'm saying that, left to my devices, I'm a little more reassured that it would even be harder to completely bore myself. I'm realizing though, with great frustration, that injuries seem to occur during days that are my scheduled time off (times like now, and my last entire summer vacation) after long stints of activity, and I seem recover just in time for my scheduled work days. What a bloody waste! No wonder it feels like I'm burnt out half the time. Perhaps the stage was already being set for me being rendered useless by my own clumsiness, which was caused by exhaustion, fatigue, and unrest, and thus an accident like this was coming inevitably.

I could have chosen to wallow in bitterness and self-pity, or to do as much as I could within my restrictive limits. I chose the latter. The extra forced stillness gave me more focus for taking personal inventory, and examining motives; mentally scratching the math/home economics itch again for making some optimizations, and playing around with some recreational calculations. Reviewing my interests and consumption habits, I've been figuring out things like*:

• The number of varieties of the kinds of homemade pizzas I could make using the kinds of dough, sauces, cheeses, plus a choice of any three from the list of the other toppings, that I like (1.797 x 10¹⁰).
• My estimated personal annual coffee consumption. I buy and use about 5.2 kg of (whole) coffee beans per year for home use; I'd like to reduce that to 4.0 kg or under.
• The amount of paper I have moving into my suite per month taking up space (flyers, free newspapers, junk mail, packing material, etc.) I figured averages about 4.7 lbs (2.14 kg) per month. Is it really worth having that kind of mass to sift through for the two or three slips of general purpose coupons that I use? (economy of space vs. economy of savings)
• Is it a cost effective measure to make my own kvas at home? Unfortunately, the answer is no: considering the rarity of the kind of rye bread I'd need, the amount and cost of sugar needed, and the energy/time to make it from scratch, even in bulk production to reduce overhead costs, it's just cheaper to get the genuine, quality assured, Ukrainian or Russian kvas from the East European import store, $4.50/imported 2 L bottle vs. $7.70/homemade 2 L bottle. If this stuff was taxed like regular alcohol (retail beer/wine/spirits), it then might be worth the trouble. 
• The cost per serving of the Coconut Pumpkin Soup recipe I recently made and shared with a friend ($0.48)

Even with just lying still on my chesterfield and thinking about all those unique and lovely flavours I thought, the savings, the abundance of possibilities, and potential for future experimentation with these simple things put me in a much more content mood, even despite the inclemency outside. My back even relaxed more and hurt less. Sometimes you have to peer into the crazy side of things to have a contrasting context to create a realm that serves your own sanity. I'm happier with thinking and preparing for things, with a few crazy twists, to avoid and prevent creating waste of time and money, and detriment to one's health, sanity, and environment. I find it is ten times more progressive, gratifying, and entertaining, than getting lost in and surrendering to impulsiveness, instant gratification fantasies, and dreaming of some get rich quick schemes. So long as one can reel oneself back into reality from the daydreaming, back into the present moment, there is no harm in it. It's a hell of a cheap way to spend a bit of an afternoon to relax at the very least.

On the world stage, with final thoughts on reckless impulsiveness and being unprepared for loss. I have to note the kind of idiocy I've been witnessing on the news about what has been happening in New York, with the storms and power outages there. It's beyond ridiculous and shameful that one of the "richest" cities in the world would have the kind of society where people would instantly lower themselves to resort to looting stores in an event as minor as a power outage, like the end of the world was coming to them. That makes me also mindful of the comparatively far worse disaster of the tsunami/nuclear reactor breach in Fukushima, Japan last year; seeing people on the news, some of whom having lost everything in that destructive event, yet astonishingly remaining for the most part calm, and still being civilized and orderly enough while queuing up for water, food rations, and other aid. Proof again of the power of calmness, in a place where perhaps it was due to a Zen ethic being more pronounced and established.

*- All costs calculated in Canadian dollars.

Mnmlism: My Idea of Being Happy

The following is an entry that I wish I had the sense to write before. These are not my words, they are those of Leo Babauta, who is: a writer, blogger, runner, and what I would call a good "habit consultant". I thought that he has what I would call a very enviable lifestyle; I'm coming to realize that I'm close to having the same deal happening for me. His words in the brief passage I provided are a good enough philosophy to help me be mindful, and to get through those days that seem super-challenging and fraught with uncertainty. It describes my idea of happiness perfectly, and it seemed right to share this with those who are still yet mystified and wondering why I generally prefer living with the degree of simplicity in my personal environment that I currently do. His words are as follows:

mnmlist: as happy as possible

I believe I’m as happy as it is possible to be.
I’m not crying out in ecstatic pleasure, or streaming tears of joy, but I am very happy. It’s not a peak of happiness, but a plateau of happiness that can go on for as long as I live.
This is a happiness I wish on everyone alive. The question then is, what are the factors that contribute to my happiness?
Here’s what I don’t have:

1. A huge house
2. Massive wealth
3. Fancy clothes
4. A nice car
5. A powerful job
6. Cable TV

And I don’t believe having any of those would contribute to greater happiness than I already have. Here’s what I do have that contribute to my happiness:

1. Time
2. Loving relationships
3. Meaningful work
4. Health
5. Books
6. Enough

The first six are seen as the goals of society by many people. The second six make me very happy, and I believe I have them because I decided to forgo the first six. I recommend this path.

On a Glass of Water

What will this become in the future?
With certainty, it will become more valuable.

That is just the way it was
Nothing could be better and nothing ever was
Oh, they say you can see your future
Inside a glass of water, the riddles and the rhymes
"Will I see heaven in mine?"

~ lyrics from Glass of Water, by Coldplay

I was compelled to do a creative writing exercise for some reason; I wanted to keep the subject simple, yet would easily lead into something more trippy and profound. I decided to restrict it to one common thing related to: a subject mentioned in the last chapter of a non-fiction book I read, an object I’d use first thing in the morning, and to whatever contents I’d find in my mailbox this morning. Upon finding my utility bill (and seeing the notice on my condo’s public bulletin board*), and noting the first thing that I grab to use with my multi-vitamins, and the blurb mentioned in the last chapter of a Richard Dawkins book I last read, the answer couldn’t come any simpler or clearer: a glass of water. It seems quite fitting since Earth Day is coming soon, and the topic is somewhat related to the environmental consciousness that the day is supposed to promote.

A glass of water is so simple, and yet so symbolic of some very transcendental things of thought. As a Canadian, living in a nation with the greatest abundance of potable water on Earth, sometimes a simple glass of water can so easily be taken for granted. That’s happening with me less so now that I’m doing more long distance running again, and being more mindful of how important it is to properly rehydrate. A glass of water somehow has become some ridiculous metaphorical indicator of perceived optimism/pessimism in a person when they first glance at a 125 millilitres of water inside a 250 millilitre capacity glass.** It’s the subject of the Paradox of Value, a matter of debate amongst economists when it is compared to a diamond. I don’t wear jewelry, and find water more immediately practical and life sustaining than a diamond, thus water for me is the more valuable thing. I’ll let you research this stuff on Wikipedia for yourself, because economic theories don’t interest me. King Solomon had the right idea when he was trying to trick and seduce the Queen of Sheba.

A glass of water is an indicator of one’s ability to remain balanced and steady. In fact, there is even an iPhone app out there called A Glass of Water. It was developed by Swedish engineers working with Toyota. It’s a virtual glass of water, used for monitoring and giving feedback on one’s driving ability for making smooth transitions into accelerating, braking, and steering. The accelerometer in the phone triggers the image of the glass on the screen to spill and splash out its virtual water if stops and starts are too abrupt, or the turns are too hard***. The purpose of this app is to help the driver improve engine efficiency, gas consumption, and their handling skill of their vehicle. The more water lost out of the glass during your trip, the worse your driving safety performance is. In my readings of Zen meditation, there was more than just on time that I’ve encountered an exercise where one is to imagine a glass of clear water, with a bit of sediment on the bottom of it. Succumbing to emotional upset is equal to shaking the glass and clouding the water, and losing all sense of mental clarity on reality. The purpose of meditation is to remain calm enough to allow such emotional sediment to settle out again, to regain clarity of mind.

Here’s a wildly interesting fact to dwell on when contemplating a glass of water. There are more water molecules in a glass of water than there are glasses of water on all of planet Earth. It’s roughly about 1500 times more in fact.**** That’s not even the most interesting part of this observation. The interesting thing occurs when you account for the probabilities that are statistically possible, given this great ratio of difference between the H₂O molecule number and global glass of water number. The mind-blowing thing is that during the course of having the recommended average daily intake for adequate hydration throughout an average lifetime, there is a high likelihood that one has had enough contact with enough molecules of water, or their constituent atoms of oxygen and hydrogen, which have in some way, cycled through or made contact with, every other type of living being that pre-existed you. Surely enough it’s at least a certainty that throughout the course of your whole lifetime, there has been enough of a volume of water molecules that have been cycling you and other beings from food and drink you consume, and the humidity in the air you inhale and exhale cycling through you to substantiate this. There’s a molecule of water in any one of the glasses you drank that was passed through a Neanderthal’s kidney, another that once was a component of the blood of a T-Rex, others that passed through the gills of trilobites and the roots of extinct, giant fern-like trees which have long since turned into coal, and perhaps even one that was used by the metabolic process of the very first singular cell of life that appeared on this planet. Things probably get wilder yet with viewing  water on a quantum level, but I'm hardly qualified enough to expound about the complexity of these interactions in writing. A single glass of water is not only life giving, but life connecting, and that alone is a wondrous enough thing for me. It’s nothing mystical; it’s just science, yet the scienctific data makes it more precious and sacred than any religion ever could.

The glass of water case is another reason I have for ridiculing religious mysticism. Surely throughout even a short lifetime, one has consumed at least one glass of water that had a molecule, or molecules that may have been used by such 'holy' influences, such as the water used by: John the Baptist to baptize Jesus, Confucius to steep his tea, the Hebrews to exile the baby Moses down the Nile, Hindu priests for any sacred ritual they perform in the Holy Ganges, or even by Mohammed for his ablutions before he prayed. If water is already this all-encompassing, and all-permeating to every other life form in existence on Earth, including to those sources who founded/served their respective religions, why the need then to perform a silly, sacrosanct ritual of “sanctifying” water, trying to make it pure and more “holy” through some babbled quasi-magical incantations? It is through man’s own foolish sanctimony, arrogance, and ignorance that he feels that he can intercede and make stuff that has already had its supposed contact with the divine beings even holier. As for purification, I’d prefer people using some common sense of not throwing pollution in it rather than seeing need to attend some service where water needs to be “blessed”. We can bless water by not wasting and polluting it so carelessly. It’s cases like this where I wish people would allow more intercession from I call the real holy trinity: science, mathematics, and logic. We need to value fresh water more, and be more environmentally responsible in using it.  Desalinizing sea-water is terribly costly in terms of energy use, and more and more nations are looking into doing this as an option to protect or replenish their water supplies. Harvesting icebergs is another extreme idea. It's done already by a Canadian company in Newfoundland, which ironically, uses the purity found in iceberg water for the purpose of making vodka. Of course the iceberg flow comes around or directly to Newfoundland, and this is a relatively passive harvest of pure water for the sake of producing a luxery beverage. However, if one modern concern is global warming, does it make sense to exploit, consume and destroy the very things that are helping to regulate the temperature of Earth's oceans which are preventing it from happening quicker? April 12th of this year marked how an iceberg had destroyed the Titanic a century ago, but what date in the future will mark our ultimate demise once we have to reached a point of being relegated to actively harvest the icebergs, polar ice and glaciers, just for untainted drinking water? Most people are ignorant of how little of it there is in comparison to ocean/marine water.*****

Don't ask me how many of these could be made from one iceberg.

During a documentary program I saw last year related to Earth Day, I remember one of the speakers, I believe it was Dr. David Suzuki, who said something to the effect that our planet shouldn’t be called “Earth, but rather it should be called “Water”, since the majority of this planet’s surface is covered with it. When it comes down to it, the planet is already changing more and more to fit its namesake proper, realizing that whole rivers and lakes are being drained around major cities in China because of over-population, and with more affluence coming to nations like India and Brazil, there will be even yet greater man-made strain on the hydrosphere.  I fear for Canada’s future: with the possibility that our nation being a made a centre of environmental exploitation and conflict, as the eyes of the world look upon us as some great big oasis, on a planet that’s getting drier . . . and thirstier.

*- Water service for the building will be shut off due to system maintenance on April 21/12. I’m lucky I’m out of town then.

**- I don’t and won’t use either of the terms “half-full” or “half-empty”. I’m a realist; all I care about is whether or not the contents in any glass are suitable enough to quench my thirst.

***-This would be an utterly useless app to have on the pothole riddled streets of this town. However, the app is free, so there's no cost to you to check it out.

****-Using factoids from the Wolfram Alpha science app: One glass = 0.25 L; There are 3.5 x 10^19 L of fresh water, or 1.4 x 10^20 glasses of water (fresh), plus 1.332 x 10^21 L of ocean water on earth, or 5.328 x 10^21 glasses of ocean water on Earth, which equals 5.4612 x 10^21 glasses of water on Earth. The number of molecules in a glass (250 mL) of water: weight of water 250 mL = 250 grams); Molecular mass of water = 18.013 grams per mole; Number of moles in 250 grams of water = 250 g divided by 18.013 g/mole = 13.879 moles. Therefore, 13.879 moles multiplied by Avogadro’s number (6.022141 x 10^23) = 8.358x 10^24 molecules in a 250 mL glass of water. Dividing 8.358 x 10^24 by 5.461 x 10^21 yields a quotient and resulting factor of around 1,530.5. It's not accurate because this isn't accounting for the salinity of the ocean water, nor atmospheric moisture, nor the remaining water retained in any of the living beings in the biosphere, which are using it for metabolic processes; so that numerical factor could waver a little more. For my intents and purposes here I’ll settle for rounding down to the factor of 1,500. Be thankful that I didn’t resort to putting both you and I through the misery of getting a more accurate figure through calculus.   

*****- Assuming we have a median depth for the world’s oceans (3900 meters = 3.9 km), and let’s suppose we used that same depth for pooling the volume of all our planet’s fresh water into one localized area on the globe. Given this depth, the surface area of this fresh water reservoir of Earth would be (3.5 x 10^19 L, which equals 3.5 x 10^7 cubic kilometers, divided by 3.9 km), roughly 8.97 million square kms: a gigantic lake averaging 4 km deep, and roughly the geographical size of Brazil, plus its neighbours Paraguay and Uruguay combined. That’s still a ridiculously small percentage compared to the remaining amount of ocean/marine water on the face of this planet. If it still doesn’t yet register just how, in actuality, really small that proportion is, just try and imagine now all the remaining terrestrial, aquatic (non-salt water dwelling) plant and animal organisms, and the seven billion humans living on this Earth all trying to compete for the water from this one lake.

More on the Zen of Running

"Running is about acceptance—of yourself and others. When you’re out on the trail sweating, it doesn’t matter if the guy or gal next to you works at a fast food joint or is a CEO. It’s doesn’t matter what color they are, or how old they are, or what religion they practice, if any" - BART YASSO

First of all, I’d like to thank my friend who sent this inspirational quote to me. When I looked outside this morning to see how it’s again windy, and everything outside is plastered with new, wet, sticky snow, it was so tempting to say, “Screw it!”, and spend the rest of the morning in bed, or putzing around with something else trivial. However, the quote was a reminder of why I shouldn’t give up today’s commitment to do my run. I know I’m tougher and more disciplined than that; even though it’s my less favoured option, I still have the indoor track at the Field House to use during times of this sort of inclemency.

Sometimes my friend; sometimes my nemesis.

Wild odometer reading
to end the day at the
track with. 178 kms to go
for the month's end.

Acceptance is honestly what it’s all about, as like through the course of performing any other form of focused meditation. When I start running, I become immediately conscious of how my legs and my lungs are trying to work together in synchrony, and it’s just natural to start getting tuned into the condition of the other elements of this collection of matter and energy I call my physical body during this feat, doing this together with some heightened awareness and sharpened focus. For me, little effort is used to think of much beyond the moment when I'm engaged in this, so then running then doesn’t really differ much from a session of sitting meditation. Aching, discomfort, pain: all these things that are creations of the mind, may come during or long after the circuit; accepting the fact that they are temporary conditions allows one push through them, and then these things somehow dissolve away and pass quicker than initially expected.

21:28 . . .my fastest 5 kms
so far.

It’s at some time, I’d say, at a point after the fifth kilometer when the body stops registering things as aching and discomfort, and then throws itself into some sort of autopilot mode. The breathing takes care of itself, and all the rhythms are set for allowing the whole system to work together efficiently and automatically: as if it “accepts” itself. I begin to feel like my legs are carrying me all by themselves, rather than me using any effort to make them move. I get so wrapped up in the momentum of all this happening that I lose sense of time; I actually risk failing to hydrate myself properly when this occurs because I don’t want to stop, or slow down, while I’m riding this wave. Luckily, I have vocal feedback of my status piped in from my pedometer app through my earphones every fifteen minutes, along with my favourite tunes, to help keep me grounded. I don’t know what else to say about this experience, if there is one. If there is no sense of time, likewise, there shouldn’t be a perceived event; therefore, no “experience” from that moment to reflect on, just “acceptance”. But hey, let’s not get too trippy now with that kind of logic.

Having the aforementioned quote in mind, thinking beyond any suffering I may be having, and being in the mode of acceptance I believe was a great help to me for breaking past my own pace record for five kilometers.

4' 19"/km. . . getting better

To expand more on Yasso’s quote, I really do get a better sense of connection between myself and the others I see running near me: be it on the track, streets, or the park trails. We do it to push ourselves harder to perhaps make ourselves more resilient and seasoned to handle the other harsher realities of life, or to claim some time for ourselves to be active, and yet remain meditatively centred and peaceful. Running, like Zen, shouldn’t be thought of as a religion, but a long and sweaty fast-paced trip towards having a glimpse, for even a small moment, at a natural form of ecstasy from the simple pleasure of being able to move, breathe, and be alive.

Happy Easter, Happy Birthday Buddha!

The great menacing freak snowstorm fronts coming from Alberta and the south that we were originally destined to get had dissipated, at least for our area, and luckily there remained a completely snow-free corridor along the stretch of highway that I needed to drive through. Other areas of the province weren’t so lucky. For instance, my brother’s community in the Southeast got nailed hard. They awoke to 30 centimetres of new snow covering everything: more than they had all winter. It was a miracle that we somehow weren’t affected, and that this miserable stuff dodged us. It’s still really cold, but I’m so thankful that I didn’t have to travel through any of that kind of inclemency.

I departed Saskatoon to visit my parents late Saturday afternoon. I took time to sort of attend to my own spiritual affairs in the city before I left to join them for Easter. I attended a dharma lecture presented by a visiting Buddhist monk. He was of the Tibetan school of Buddhism, and he came from Ontario. His name was Gen Kelsang Rabgye. I gleaned so much from his three hour lecture, which included a fabulous lesson on having a quality session of meditation. Since I’ve been studying Buddhism, more specifically Zen, I’ve found that the concepts of no inherent existence and non-self were always hard concepts to grasp. Rabgye provided good examples that brought so much clarity for me.

The Tibetan word for "prayer" translates to "wish path"

Gen Kelsang Rabgye

Today is not only Easter Sunday; it is also Buddha’s birthday. Since this is so, I thought I’d share my thoughts about Buddhism, and why it has become a bigger part of my life in the past few years. I am quite truthful in saying that I don’t currently practice any sort religion.* Generally, religions focus on the subjugation of people for some purpose of ultimately appeasing the supposed super-imposed will of some God figure: commonly represented in the West as some sort of cosmic, law-giving, super-entity that smites or forsakes people who don't accept, nor yield to, nor cower to the power of this almighty being. That’s not what Buddhism is about. Buddhism isn’t so much a religion as it is a more of a spiritual method of psychoanalysis: gaining insight about the truth of nature in an empirical manner, and gaining sounder sense of the world through a tamer, tranquil, and happier mind; extinguishing the hatred, greed, and delusions that ultimately bring about one’s suffering; and being mindful about the nature of the forces of cause and effect (karma). It allows you to deeply and directly cultivate wisdom, happiness, and compassion because it's already innate and natural for you to want to rid yourself of suffering anyway. All happiness/suffering originates in your own mind, and it's ultimately your own choice and responsibility as to which paths you'll take. In such a paradigm, things aren't due to anything else supernatural, like some god's grace/wrath, or whim for your salvation/damnation. You can have any kind of heritage, or believe whatever faith it is you (think you) have, and still practice Buddhism. There is no conflict within me studying Buddhism and celebrating and enjoying "religious" holidays like Christmas and Easter with my family. If one does have such conflict or personal upheaval, I’d say one wasn’t doing their practice right. I like Buddhism because it has nothing to sell me. I like the fact that it invites the disciple to freely explore the world, applying the teachings of the eightfold path and seeing the results, and to not just blindly accept the teachings as they are. It’s non-dogmatic, welcoming you to freely discard it if it all turns out to be bullshit for you: as in not genuinely bringing you happiness (less suffering) in helping out yourself and others. If you don’t like it, you are free to find something else that does the trick. I highly doubt if the big three western Abrahamic faiths, or even some of the newer "cults" are so confident as to state that without some caveat about dire consequences attached.

Zen, or any other form of Buddhism, is not merely an intellectual pursuit. It only works for you if you practice it, and put it into action. I don't claim to be the best at doing this, but I think I prefer Zen, apart from the meditation, for the fact that there is, by the example of some of its own teachers, a little more leeway for using some spontaneity, wildness, humour, and shock value to snap people (including yourself) to their senses. It’s very down to earth in that respect. Some of the best teachers of it (some achieving enlightenment, others not) have varying backgrounds. They include noblemen, beggars, former criminals, artisans, warriors, and even a punk rock bass player (in contemporary writings, of course). Zen’s teachings of compassion fit better to my definition of it more than other schools. I admit, my patience still very taxed sometimes in engaging with some people with more drama-oriented personalities, but with Zen on my side I have gained more courage to confront them and help them as needed, and less inclination of avoiding them altogether. Sometimes they get my humour, other times they get a question that makes them think about their sensibility of their drama/actions or behaviour. Sometimes it comes out with less-than-tactful, colourful, and even profane sounding language, but sometimes I have to lower/raise myself to someone else’s operating level to make them see my point**: if they can’t deal with, or process my first suggestion or response. A little embarrassing laughter may result; sometimes I have to use a little self-effacing humour to keep things from escalating. In either case, it’s better than dealing with the problem with full out anger, from either side, needlessly spinning things into a guilt trip for someone else. The base intention is still the same: to stop such people from edging themselves into a bigger heap of greater suffering. The people I deal with have a big enough trial from day to day; they need not have their problems compounded with extra ignorance. I’m realistic in knowing that I won’t get through to all people, but it is my sincere wish and intent to help make others be at least a little more happy and comfortable; including myself. That’s the true goal in trying to attain enlightenment through Buddhism.

*-I tried and explored theistic religion(s) . . . sorry, but no thank you. I decided to grow up and think for myself instead, and divorce myself from any so-called “loving and peaceful” Abrahamic faith institutions that: do little to quell (and in fact often promote) sectarian violence, terrorism, ethnic cleansing, or sanction “holy wars”; endorse racial/ gender/sexual inequality/segregation and homophobia; forbid the teaching of the theory of evolution in schools; use disinformation about, or threaten harsh consequences for the use of birth control/condoms/STD protection; uphold and support death penalties for things like “blasphemy”; support capital punishment in general; harbour and give sanctuary to criminals of genocide while neglecting the actual victims of it; threaten me or others with reprisals, excommunication, or damnation for questioning or disagreeing with their particular creed or dogma; are actively involved with using guilt and shaming real victims of serious violations and abuse into silence.

** - Or, equally, to allow me to see theirs.