Life as an Extreme Sport

sometimes the hardest thing to do is practice on yourself

I wrote this a few weeks ago, and in a tricksy move to make sure no one could know what I was referring to without talking to me, I held on to it to post at a later time. Ooo, tricksy. More seriously, the number of people who read this, at least occasionally, has lead me to conclude that while I can still talk about whatever I want, with common discretion, it might not be a bad idea to blur the lines on continuity just a bit – at least in some circumstances. Today has been a serious day for practicing loving kindness and compassion. It’s either that, or burn bridges in a spectacular flame out that I would regret almost instantly. The problem is, it’s easy to get stuck in circles of irritation, when I’m essentially by myself all day, and the contact I do have with other people

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semiotics on flesh

I am a study in signs right now. (Well, not right now – right now I’m a study in “oh fucking hell it’s too late in the year to be this muggy and hot!”) Everything I put on seems to have meaning, of some sort or another. Rubber bracelet with pithy slogan, stamped and brushed silver bracelet, ring, mala, pendant, locket – even earrings. Small bits of meaning woven into each, almost charmlike. The impulses to wear give some insight into the idea that having something that belonged to another gives you some power, over event, item, person. Tangible connections, ties that bind. ~*~ It has come to my attention that some people think I am, perhaps, upset, frustrated, and/or otherwise angry and disappointed with/at them. Some people should stop being stupid. Or come talk to me. Actually, both would be best. I will be the first to stand up

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hopeful misanthropes unite

Many years ago, I was in the hospital, after deciding that nope, life? Sucked and wasn’t worth it. I was still during my lockdown period, where technically I was not allowed any visitors. But someone had misinterpreted the rules and told me otherwise, and I mercilessly badgered and cried and basically pitched a giant fit until I got what I wanted – a few visitors. It was really, specifically, one visitor I wanted, but he was a package deal with the boyfriend at the time. We finally sat, alone in a room together, and I remember it as clearly as if it just happened. He sat in a chair, and I sat at his feet. He looked so sadly at me, and I’m sure I returned the look, laden with so much more. We had been friends through a lot, a lot of his problems, and I had been there

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kill the buddha outside you

I was chatting with an academic colleague of mine about the recent attack in Pakistan on a large, carved Buddha, and actually impressed myself with my own serenity and acceptance. Quite the different response from my reaction to the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas (outrage, anger, despair). But as I told him, it is only rock, and only appears indestructable to use because we move at different time than rock. To focus so much on the image is in fact to do exactly what the Islamic militants fear – idolize the image, instead of revere the message. Ultimately, what I feel is more sorrow and sadness, not for the destruction of the carved art and stone, but for the people who are so ruled by fear, who are so threatened by something as simple as carved rock. How sad and small their lives must be, and what beauty and wonder

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words make wisdom

For various reasons, and one rather specific one, it became necessary to stop using my office as a large storage room, and get it in working order rapidly. (So now my living room is a large storage room… sigh. But I’m working through it, albeit slowly.) Anyhow, now that I can sit at my desk, I can see some of the collective wisdom I’ve opted to attach on the side of my filing cabinet. And it’s rather weird to realize that these are things I had hanging up on my cube wall at eWorld, some 12 years ago. I guess as much as things may change, they stay the same. (And rather, as an aside, solidifies the notion I’ve been a pragmatist long before I knew what it even meant.) When you lose your temper, the other person gains control. -Anonymous A person is not hurt so much by what

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