|Current music:||no music, just the same city hum of fridges and fans.|
some spirit stones for your sweat lodge.
today i worked.
i was faster than i'd been in a while. i think i just wanted to be automatic today. a machine. a money-making machine of skin and muscle. no talk. faster walk. "okay, bread for table 22, butter for 15, water refills". done. done. done. now i'm home and i still smell like the restaurant. soon a warm sacred shower.
at work, even when i'm a "machine", in-between thoughts always seem to come in- but today they had less power over me. they were less capable of distracting me from the very physical task i had to do. i was there, and only there, until i left. at least, i like to think that. or do i? how scary would that be if i only thought about the task at hand? i guess i really would be a machine. no emotion. just motion.
some thoughts, while at work:
i thought about the egyptians and the romans. i thought about the archeologists who go digging to find their ruins so that they can preserve every tiny artifact and someday come to a concensus about how they lived their lives. i thought, it's not much different- their world, our world. i read somewhere, a long time ago, that some city had been discovered near the pyramids. a "slave" city. they knew it was a city of slaves because of wear and tear on the bones that were found there, and because of some of the food and pottery- it wasn't very extravagant. i remember thinking when i read this, "how do they know it was a city of slaves?". our own culture has vast gaps between the fat cats and the working poor. does that mean the working poor are slaves?
my theory is that things were pretty much the same back then- they were capitalists. slavery today is far more subtle. our masters have long since figured out how to use our fears, thoughts, feelings, and innate need to be loved and secure to keep us servile. every once in a while someone breaks through the chain and rises to the top only to become the new master. think "animal farm". family values and television and desires and sadness teach us not to rebel. and the rebels are so rebellious they are repulsive.
i thought about p. her lips. her eyes. her thoughts. her voice. us. our voices. my voice. silence. expectation. freedom. "muzzle". lovers. life. the world. happiness. parting. shadows. greeting. ram dass. optimism. pessimism. cynicysm. friendliness. the art of being a friend. the art of being alive. the art of detachment. the art of love. art itself. peacefullness- or as my mother prefers to call it: serenity. my mother. my father. my family. time. ghosts. a picture of people on a beach in the 1800s, all wearing their sunday best from head to toe (i thought, was that meant to be a joke? did people not have swimsuits back then? did the photographer think it was profound, these people in their suits, in the sand?). the weather. the trains that pass through old sacramento. their LOUD horns. overanalysis. overcommunication. miscommunication. kimberly. niki. my friends. new hampshire. summer. swimming.
i could go on forever. these things i think about probably every day. even if they only appear briefly then disinegrate they are there always.
ram dass, the buddha, they talk about "mind-moments". they say underneath every conscious thought are trillions of mind moments, or other little thoughts. maybe i'm aware of too many of these sometimes. but, like i said- today they didn't take me over too much. they didn't feel too overwhelming. all in all, it was a nice day. i am in many ways very blessed. a bit sad... but very blessed. all i need to do is focus on saying "nam myoho renge kyo" and i'll be enlightened eventually, right?
on my way home, i was sitting at the light-rail station, and there was a man laying on his back with his eyes closed. he was "your average looking bearded dirty homeless man". there were two police officers above him, writing him some kind of ticket. when they finished they placed it on his chest and walked away. as the train started to pull up i heard him mumble "don't get on...please....don't get on" over and over again. he started crying a little... shaking... eyes closing tight... still mumbling. i wondered if he was a prophet and if this was the train i would ride into the afterlife for not listening to his pleas. i got on anyway, with thoughts about desirelessness and fearlessness and not holding on too tightly to anything- just being conscious and aware of each moment. i thought about karma, and whether or not everyone on the train had "done their job" yet. because, if we were going to ride this train into oblivion, it sure would be nice if they all had finished tasting, seeing, changing, feeling. then i thought, it can't be that every single person on this train had finished working through their karma, or that every single person had all they could have of life. so i thought about reincarnation. how silly it was. a bit sad, maybe, too. then i imagined that maybe the train wasn't going to crash after all, and that this man on the sidewalk was in tears because everyone was always leaving and he missed his tribe- that maybe his consciousness was being projected into the 1700's and he was hoping someone was going to come and start a fire for him and heat the stones for the sweat lodge and sing "praise the Great Spirit for this Life".
yeah. sometimes i know how he feels.