After the tragic, disastrous events in Boston, eternity and mortality are probably not far from our minds.
Anyone who has been through tragedy—any tragedy, however one defines it—will understand how an hour, a minute, a day can seem like an instant or an eternity.
In those moments we are lifted so far out of ourselves that time ceases to have meaning. Even in retrospect, those moments take on the outside-of-time quality that they first possessed.
Election day: probably the most heated and least balanced day on the calendar. Thank god it only comes once every four years. Look, I don’t care who you vote for (okay, that is patently untrue; I actually care very deeply for whom you vote, but I’ll keep my mouth shut) just as long as you vote. But here’s a secret: I’m not even sure this whole free election/voting thing actually makes any difference whatsoever.
I feel as though I’ve been remiss in my postings. I keep up with my little photo hobby, but I know this space is meant for more than that.
I think part of the problem has been this deep sadness that I’ve been experiencing. This isn’t a sadness for myself or my personal life, which is going rather beautifully, but a deep sadness for what has been, I fear, irrevocably lost. Between the drought which has plagued much of the country and reading about the ‘sponge effect’ (in which the drought is perpetuated by the atmosphere sucking moisture from ground and trees which will only get worse as temperatures increase), I’ve had little energy left to attack the issue in writing.
I’m directly copying and pasting this from Mary Jane’s Farm (click here for a much nicer layout of this article). Global class-action lawsuit, anyone? Maybe we should start with buying only organic cotton…
Did you know? 250,000 Indian farmers have committed suicide as a direct result of genetically engineered cotton.
The other day, I decided to unsubcribe from the email notices of a handful of petition sites (such as CREDO Action). This was not exactly easy for me… I like to be a part of the progressive opposition; I like knowing about issues which may not reach me through my limited exposure to daily news. But what finally did it for me? The use of language.
I’ve been dealing with enormous amounts of anger lately. Being a yoga instructor, I have plenty in my bag of tricks and, normally, when I feel this way, I dive into asana, the physical practice of yoga. Well, enter Monday. Apparently I was so driven in my practice that I made the very stupid mistake of moving into a series of backbends before I was sufficiently warmed up. Long story short, I’ve done some painful damage to my lumbar spine. Anyway, who cares? That’s not the point. The point is that my go-to resource has been taken away. I am immobilized. Somehow I’m guessing there’s a lesson here.
But you know what? I’m sick of lessons. So, instead of meditating on my anger, I’m just going to release it (lucky you–you can quit reading at any point, as I’m sure you realize). I’m exceedingly pissed off for any number of reasons. I’ll just list a few here.