September 19, 2016

Another Mandala

I’m not sure you could call what I did today running, seeing that I walked for a lot of the way, but I decided to run home from school today. It was more of a 6.5km shuffle, but it's a start. There were moments of degrading and uncontrollable self-loathing for letting myself lapse to the point of basically starting over, followed by moments of Terry Foxian resolve and determination to get back to the half-marathon state I was in last May. My legs feel okay, heart and lungs are fine, it’s just my head that won’t stop asking, “Why are you doing this again?” I need to convince myself again that I like this torture.

I have a canker sore in my mouth that is making the eating of chocolate difficult.

I wish there was something new to try with my facial hair. I am over having it or not having. I am over beards, goatees, soul patches, moustaches. I am over my hair too and over my face and sometimes over myself. How do people go through years of their life looking exactly the same? Being the same?

The global narrative- Pipe bombs in Chelsea. Trump. Whatever else is going on is tiresome as well. We are talking to our students about UN development goals and peace and so many beautiful things, while people on Twitter are bitching about not being able to carry guns to kill suspected terrorists, while wishing that they could hang and castrate them in the streets. Ignorance and injustice and anger and violence seem so simple to cure, but we never seem to get the hang of it.

Maybe writing on a Monday night suffering from an irritable mouth, while tired and bored, with a slight headache and achy legs, and sore joints and an overall sense of the blahs does not make for interesting writing.

Everyday cannot be filled with rainbows and unicorns. Sometimes life is just a bout against tedious boredom. A maniacal monotony that pounds then hums, leaving giant bruises on your psyche. Wake up. Do the thing. Then that one. Eat lunch. Drink water. Do the thing. Then that one. Eat dinner. Put the kids to bed. Do the thing. Then that one.

Remember your life. Remember you're alive. Remember the days in the woods and under the sea. The cool breezes and setting suns. The full moons. The gentle kisses. The moments of exuberance and joy. Remember the trembling and the fear and the thrill of seeing. Being.

This too shall pass says the monk sweeping away another mandala.

Oh and the Raiders lost a game they should have one. 1-1 here we go.

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