And so my long weekend draws to a close. I've been off work for four days. It's been one of those mini-vacations where I didn't really accomplish anything in particular, but it has certainly been nice to be away from the daily grind.
I'm strangely quiet these days and I guess it's a combination of things. For one, having a twenty-one-year-old son certainly does make a person pause and take stock of things. Secondly, I seriously think the weather is getting the better of me. My body doesn't quite know what to make of a January wherein temperatures regularly reach the sixties. What the heck? Also, I don't know about you, but I could use a bright, sunshiney day.
Still, I am making some headway with my resolution to get more exercise. I'm having near daily sessions on the treadmill which is definitely helping me feel better physically.
After a brief detour with a Larry McMurtry book about Pretty Boy Floyd (don't ask), I'm back at the Carlos Castenada series. I'm nearly through the second book: "A Separate Reality". Alert readers may remember that, along with more exercise, I've resolved to engage in more positive self-talk in '06. With that in mind, you may appreciate how significant I found the following passage from the book that I read just tonight. (Apologies for the length.):
[Don Juan]
"You think and talk too much. You must stop talking to yourself.
[Carlos]
"What do you mean?"
"You talk to yourself too much. You're not unique at that. Every one of us does that. We carry on an internal talk. Think about it. Whenever you are alone, what do you do?"
"I talk to myself."
"What do you talk to yourself about?"
"I don't know; anything, I suppose."
"I'll tell you what we talk to ourselves about. We talk about our world. In fact we maintain our world with our internal talk."
"How do we do that?"
"Whenever we finish talking to ourselves the world is always as it should be. We renew it, we kindle it with life, we uphold it with our internal talk. Not only that, but we also choose our paths as we talk to ourselves. Thus we repeat the same choices over and over until the day we die, because we keep on repeating the same internal talk over and over until the day we die.
"A warrior is aware of this and strives to stop his talking. This is the last point you have to know if you want to live like a warrior."
"How can I stop talking to myself?"
"First of all you must use your ears to take some of the burden from your eyes. We have been using our eyes to judge the world since the time we were born. We talk to others and to ourselves mainly about what we see. A warrior is aware of that and listens to the world; he listens to the sounds of the world."
"I really do not understand you!"
"Your problem is you confuse the world with what people do. Again you're not unique at that. Every one of us does that. The things people do are the shields against the forces that surround us; what we do as people gives us comfort and makes us feel safe; what peope do is rightfully very important, but only as a shield. We never learn that the things we do as people are only shields and we let them dominate and topple our lives. In fact I could say that for mankind, what people do is greater and more important than the world itself.
"What do you call the world?"
The world is all that is encased here, " he said, and stomped the ground. "Life, death, people, the allies, and everything else that surrounds us. The world is incomprehensible. We won't ever understand it; we won't ever unravel its secrets. Thus we must treat it as it is, a sheer mystery!
"An average man doesn't do this, though. The world is never a mystery for him, and when he arrives at old age he is convinced he has nothing more to live for. An old man has not exhausted the world. He has exhausted only what people do. But in his stupid confusion he belives that the world has no more mysteries for him. What a wretched price to pay for our shields!
"A warrior is aware of this confusion and learns to treat things properly. The things that people do cannot under any conditions be more important than the world. And thus a warrior treats the world as an endless mystery and what people do as an endless folly."
***
And so tonight I wonder if, rather than more POSITIVE self talk, should my resolution be NO self-talk? Certainly, a complete lack of inner dialog would contribute mightily to my being more present (another constant goal of mine). Then again, it's not like one just turns off the internal dialog like flipping a light switch, right? People have been trying to quiet themselves since forever, through meditation for one thing. Actually, I've found positive self-talk nearly impossible, anyway. I have only, on the briefest occasions, succeeded in NO self-talk at all. I had thought that a defeat until tonight.
***
FurGirl had a super exciting day. Although Satan's workplace was closed in honor of MLK day, he had to go in anyway to tie up a few loose ends as he'll be out of town tomorrow. As a special treat, he took FurGirl along to hang out in the office. Now, I wasn't there for the outing, but I can assure you this was positively dizzying for my little fur-baby. Mostly, Satan's attentions to the FurGirl consist of him vociferously denouncing her for either the way she smells or for the ever-present fur-drifts that she constantly and thoughtfully deposits all over the house.
While Satan and FurGirl headed out to the office, I headed out to meet my aunties and Grandmother for lunch. When I returned a few hours later, I found poor FurGirl banished to her bed on the back porch. Also, she looked distinctly guilty. This could only mean that a) she rolled in something stinky or b) the field trip did not go well.
Alarmed, I sought out Satan in the bathroom where he was installing some towel racks.
ME
Why is Furgirl in her bed?
SATAN
She yakked.
ME
You mean she...PUKED?
SATAN
YEP.
ME
(dear god) At THE OFFICE?
SATAN
After we got home.
And that's where it ended until dinner when we resumed the thread of the conversation over plates of spaghetti.
ME
So...what did the yak-up look like? Because last time? It was just chewed up stick and digested grass.
SATAN
It was orange.
ME
Orange?! Good God! Like, how orange?
SATAN
Like an Orange Julius.
ME
She must have gotten a-hold of some orange peel or one of these oranges (we have a bag of oranges and a box of clementines).
SATAN
Nah, she couldn't have gotten any of that. We'd have noticed her eating an orange.
ME
Are you going to tell me our dog yaks up an Orange Julius and you don't think there's a connection with the three pounds of oranges in our kitchen?
SATAN
Yah, and she threw up in the kitchen too.
ME
Oy vey.
SATAN
And it was more than that (he gestures to my large full tumbler of iced tea).
ME
Gag. Hmmm...let's see what have we fed her lately...
SATAN
Hey, we fed her carrots yesterday.
ME
Carrots! Could it be...?
SATAN
Actually, probably not. It was too long ago.
ME
Yah, like, more than twenty-four hours. It has to be the oranges.
SATAN
THE DOG HAS NOT EATEN AN ORANGE.
ME
YET SHE YAKKED UP AN ORANGE SHAKE.
SATAN
I tell you, it's impossible, we'd know if she had an orange.
ME
What about an orange peel?
SATAN
Or an orange peel. We would know this.
ME
Hey.
SATAN
What?
ME
How long have we been talking about the quality and composition of our dog's vomit?
SATAN
A long time.
ME
Has it really come to this?
SATAN
I guess so.
***
Thankfully, the progress in my neighborhood continues apace. Satan and I were able to tour one of the older buildings (The Colonial) that has been newly renovated into condo's yesterday. In case you weren't sufficiently entertained by my dark night of the soul or dog puke, I'll leave you with a few pics I snapped for your viewing pleasure:
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