If ever there were a bumper sticker that should be made, this is it, I think.
I’ve long held the belief that fear is the antithesis of all that is good, and, as such, is the source of all that is evil. Greed, dishonesty, even violent crime and war, to me, can all be traced back to fear. Fear of not having enough, fear of not being thought of as good enough, fear of loss and lack of power.
Fear.
Yesterday was the 30th day of my 30 Day Challenge, and, wow, what a month. I lost sight of it at times, I plain didn’t want to do it at times (which was, perhaps, the most telling realization), and I succeeded far more than I wanted to at times.
My phone is dead, dead, dead. Dried out and flipped open, it still wouldn’t turn on. I keep thinking that I’ll get it taken care of, but I’ve been turned on to the Iphone which would require my changing carriers, and I have a single month till my contract expires.
I’m still not sure what I’m going to do. I check my messages daily, and it seems strange that no one leaves their number despite an explicit request to.
“Hi. This is Nancy’s phone and she killed me. She drowned me in the swamp at the DeSoto National Forest, so please leave your name, AND your number, and she’ll get back to you as soon as she can.”
Most of my messages are along the lines of, “Haha! You killed your phone! Call me back.”
Despite thunderous call-response drumming in the sky yesterday morning, I decided to brave the hike alone. I bumbled around a bit Wednesday morning, listening to the radio in the sky, and finally, I decided screw it. There are far worse things than walking in the rain, and I had been looking forward to this for a week.
Give or take the rest of my life, really.
My dad has a hairline fracture in his foot, so was out of commission, much to both of our disappointments.
So, without GPS but with fully charged camera batteries, I went. It was a completely different experience this time, in part because, although I was completely alone, I really wasn’t.
I stopped and sighed at the lotus pond, my pond, I think, although it’s a bit egoistic to say that. I do think of it as my pond. Although, there’s a bit of flawed language there, something that I was pondering while actually sighing at the pond, but that will have to be a post for another day.
Suffice it to say, I do feel that it is, in a sense, my pond.
I didn’t always agree with him, but I didn’t have to.
Carlin was a Fool-with-a-capital-F in a court of errant knights. No matter the greatness of his fanbase, I think his scope of his influence can only be underestimated.
Many people preached the message, but it was Carlin that drove it home: laughter disempowers and breaks down tragedy into comedic, digestible pieces.
Most celebrities don’t even blip my radar, but he will be sincerely mourned.
How do you know that this is the experience that you need? Because it’s the one you’re having right now.
I’m not sure where I came across that gem, but it’s something I need to keep in mind.
I was so excited Tuesday night, I could barely sleep.
I went to bed early, even tried to go to sleep early, and still couldn’t sleep. I was like a kid on Christmas Eve.
I set the alarm for oh-five-hundred. I packed toilet paper, a couple of snacks, toilet paper, water, toilet paper, a first aid kit, and toilet paper. I made sure I had comfortable shoes and good socks. I was ready to rock and roll.
I lovingly placed my phone and my camera batteries in their respective chargers. The next morning, I limited my coffee intake (and, yet still managed to squeeze a bit in), stumbled around, gathered my supplies and toilet paper, and prided myself on remembering my phone and camera in its fancy-schmancy Crown Royal bag that is being used as a camera bag.
It seemed like it took 9 years to get there, but really, it was only a 45 minute drive to the hiking trail. It’s in DeSoto National Forest, and it was definitely worth the ride.
Mrs. Lee was one of the third grade teachers at my elementary school. I never had the pleasure of actually having her as a teacher, but I did get to see her teach.
In third grade, Mrs. Lee was a big deal.
As best I can recall, she looked a bit like Mrs. Crabtree, only in a dress and pumps. I doubt that any of us would have been surprised had she shown up with a bird in her hair, either.
She was known as “that crazy lady” and was infamous for her singing, dancing, and yelling from atop her desk. I remember leaving the classroom (surely with permission!) and passing by her class, rapt at the open door. She did it for behavior problems, or to make kids pay attention when she was calling on them to answer in front of the class.
She was wild, she was crazy, but she never did put on a striptease, like some silly British teachers do.
But what can we expect, really? They gave us Monty Python, Black Adder, and Fry and Laurie.
Strange things happen on Friday the 13th around me.
This year, not so much.
Yesterday, as I was out and about, tutoring in the Writing Center, I stopped thinking about what I needed to / should / would do. We didn’t have any clients (but that will change, thanks to The Bear making a WC appointment mandatory for his class, and his class having over 40 students), so I spent most of the time google-reading Aldous Huxley’s Perennial Philosophy.
It’s a great book, an exciting and validating book, actually, but it’s an incredibly long book, since I’m having to google a quite a bit to get a handle on it. Frustrating, but ultimately very, very rewarding.
I thought I’d do little things and be able to track my progress. If anything, I’ve regressed. (Or is it transgressed? A year later, I don’t remember the difference between transgressive and regressive sequences).
I did do something I never thought I’d do, however, and that is to make an appointment with a rape counselor. It’s next week, and I have no idea what to expect. I just know that what I’m doing simply isn’t working. I almost feel like I’m giving up, no, I do feel that I’m giving up. I’m still dealing with a lot of residual stuff in addition to this apathy that overwhelms me on most days.
But anyway, there it is.
On the bright side, I’m reading Aldous Huxley’s Perennial Philosophy. Fantastic stuff.
“One decision changes your entire reality. But that one decision you have to make again and again and again–until it becomes natural to live in such a way.”
Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth, (201).
Yesterday and today were tough days. I found myself caught up in wishing things were a certain way, that this had been done, that I had already done that. I’m aware of it, though, and I suppose that’s something.
I found out my diploma was on hold, things I had already taken care of were showing, well, not-taken care of. Rather than arguing, I just went through the steps again, and I noticed I was a bit more detached.
Well, except for about five minutes when I was sitting in the middle of the USM lobby, right next to the Financial Aid office, talking to Mike about how useless the Financial Aid officers were and how I wish the Universe had decided to grace them with personalities and a modicum of talent that exceeded their ability to sit behind a desk and be decidedly unhelpful.
Yesterday was a give-away day. For the majority of the day, I didn’t accomplish anything, and that’s rather disheartening.
Not so lilting a start, and yet, I seem to be acutely aware when I am procrastinating. It’s almost painful now, although, as of right now, I keep doing it despite that fact.
A couple of things, though. The Guy, having reappeared, keeps doing it, and this presents a bit of a problem. I like him, a lot. I enjoy him a lot, but his timing just sucks. Another late night again last night despite my self-promise that I’d go to bed early. I did actually wake up at 630, but I hit the snooze so many times the alarm just shut itself off.
So now, because I overslept, it really is too hot to walk. I’m not that hardcore.
Not complaints. Just observations.
Although, at 2 this morning, I did manage to fix my air conditioning thingy, and that improved my life monumentally all night long.
