Diarrhea of the Soul --or-- Spiritual Purging
Not a pretty picture, eh?
I felt weird at the chiropractor yesterday. It is a naturopathic practice, with gradual long-term and cumulative improvement. I understand it is quite different from traditional chiropractics. Lying face down on the bench and letting the arms hang down my entire back ached, which is different from the normal localized ache. I was surprised to hear my spine was nicely relaxed, with all the little pains coming in more and different areas. The ancient big block in the region between my shoulder blades opened up in a big way. Likely the big release revealed tension and tightness in other areas. Like working on a complex character or coding challenge, once one thing is worked out lots more faucets open up. Interesting, I'll have to see if that is related to my restlessness.
Stepping out of the chiropractor I smelled a barbecue, and knew I needed steak. Steak, fresh corn on the cob, and a double size very dark beer. Sheaf, from Australia which I normally use for making chili. Comfort food all the way last night.
Immediately after dinner I swapped motorcycle boots for comfortable shoes. I had been looking forward to a walk since I mentioned about it yesterday. Measuring the distance on my commute, I walked about 4.5 miles. I talked to my Dad on the phone for the first thirty minutes. He was composing an E-mail in response to one I sent to a lot of friends and relatives asking them to think of our troops. I was, and still am upset by attaining the 1000 mark for American casualties. As always, it was very good talking to my Pop.
The entire walk took about 90 minutes, a pretty relaxed pace. I was trying to come to terms with the rage I feel. I still believe we are killing Iraqis and Americans, and destroying both our countries in different and profound manners, for a criminal war we instigated using fear and deception. Not an easy thing to come to terms with, assuming you value the lives of Iraqis or U.S. troops. The appearance that a large majority of our population gives no more than lip service to respecting these lives does not make me a happy camper.
I tried several times to start dropping my shoulders and relax, but it wasn't time. I wanted to find an active meditative state during my walk and once again what I want to do was supplanted by what I need to do. I needed to walk out the turbulence. When I was on the last quarter mile the rage was only beginning to relinquish it's hold. Weather permitting, I need another long walk tonight. It is a bizarre concept for me. There is a nearly palpable need to let this simmering rage run it's course before I can fully get back to art and the day job. Maybe this little journey will propel me; what I do know is dismissing it by focusing on nicer things is not a healthy or helpful option for me at the moment. Ain't that the shits?
I felt weird at the chiropractor yesterday. It is a naturopathic practice, with gradual long-term and cumulative improvement. I understand it is quite different from traditional chiropractics. Lying face down on the bench and letting the arms hang down my entire back ached, which is different from the normal localized ache. I was surprised to hear my spine was nicely relaxed, with all the little pains coming in more and different areas. The ancient big block in the region between my shoulder blades opened up in a big way. Likely the big release revealed tension and tightness in other areas. Like working on a complex character or coding challenge, once one thing is worked out lots more faucets open up. Interesting, I'll have to see if that is related to my restlessness.
Stepping out of the chiropractor I smelled a barbecue, and knew I needed steak. Steak, fresh corn on the cob, and a double size very dark beer. Sheaf, from Australia which I normally use for making chili. Comfort food all the way last night.
Immediately after dinner I swapped motorcycle boots for comfortable shoes. I had been looking forward to a walk since I mentioned about it yesterday. Measuring the distance on my commute, I walked about 4.5 miles. I talked to my Dad on the phone for the first thirty minutes. He was composing an E-mail in response to one I sent to a lot of friends and relatives asking them to think of our troops. I was, and still am upset by attaining the 1000 mark for American casualties. As always, it was very good talking to my Pop.
The entire walk took about 90 minutes, a pretty relaxed pace. I was trying to come to terms with the rage I feel. I still believe we are killing Iraqis and Americans, and destroying both our countries in different and profound manners, for a criminal war we instigated using fear and deception. Not an easy thing to come to terms with, assuming you value the lives of Iraqis or U.S. troops. The appearance that a large majority of our population gives no more than lip service to respecting these lives does not make me a happy camper.
I tried several times to start dropping my shoulders and relax, but it wasn't time. I wanted to find an active meditative state during my walk and once again what I want to do was supplanted by what I need to do. I needed to walk out the turbulence. When I was on the last quarter mile the rage was only beginning to relinquish it's hold. Weather permitting, I need another long walk tonight. It is a bizarre concept for me. There is a nearly palpable need to let this simmering rage run it's course before I can fully get back to art and the day job. Maybe this little journey will propel me; what I do know is dismissing it by focusing on nicer things is not a healthy or helpful option for me at the moment. Ain't that the shits?
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