living in the moment.

i like to take things back. i mean, i like like taking things back.

sometimes i take back things i've bought, like tools, furniture, bedding. sometimes i take back things like shoes, pants, underwear. actually, you can't return underwear and that's a shame. i'm also mildly uncomfortable after paying for a meal in a fine restaurant. you can't return a meal and that's a shame. i'm aware that the big stores make it easy to return items in order to encourage buying and i do take full advantage of that. i'm not the sort to buy a dress, wear it to a party and then return it the next day. that'd be weird on many levels. but, i am the type to buy something, check it out in the comfort of my own home and then return it if it's not absolutely, exactly, precisely what i want, or even anyway.

sometimes i take back what i've said. sometimes you can't and that's a shame. i would have liked to take back something i said recently to my neighbor at the cottage. he invited me over for a beer. i don't drink, haven't had alcohol since before i became a monk, circa 1970. but i sipped a half a beer with the guy, ate some chips, chatted. the next day he asked how i felt from the beer and i told him it was great, slept like a baby, have decided to become an alcoholic. he didn't seem to find that amusing, which in itself is not unusual. only, then i happened to hear from another neighbor that he's a raging alcoholic.

i know i take returning things a bit far. it is perhaps my pathetic little way of protesting globalization. only, i also know it runs deeper than that. i have been concerned about the moves i make in life. the idea we hear so often, especially as 'new-agers,' is that we should let go of the past, not worry about the future, just live in the present moment. what does that even mean? i have a lovely friend, someone who was my wife for an hour or two, who calls from time to time to see how i am. we have a long-running joke about trying to live in the present moment. when i say that i'm fine, she'll say: "how about now?" when i say i'm still fine, she'll say: "how 'bout now?" that can go on a while.

there are so many things you can't take back and that's a shame. but, that's alright too. one lovely aspect of growing older, of having meditated, of having studied life, is how you become less concerned with the prospect of buyer's remorse. you become less confused by the notion of time. you do intuitively appreciate the moment. thich nath hanh has said: "walk as if you are kissing the earth with your feet. drink your tea slowly and reverently, without rushing toward the future. life is available only in the present moment."

does it really matter if we fully understand what it means to 'be here now'? i don't. i just like the sound of it. i'm still gonna take back the bathing suit i bought at the 'tigre giant' yesterday, if they'll let me. it has the netting inside so they may not accept it. but, i'll hand it over slowly, reverently, and see how it goes.

Where Freedom Lies.

Having lived in this western wonderland now for many years, I have noticed a few small quirks. Hardly any worth mentioning, perhaps, although here I go:

I’m sure you’ll agree, for example, that a schedule which does not allow you to spend a reasonable amount of time out in the light of day is in need of some reconsideration. To trundle off to one’s place of employment as the sun is just showing its glorious countenance over the horizon, only to return home zombie-like after dark, day after day, is just a bit unfortunate. That is even more obvious in winter, of course.

I recall listening to a report on the CBC a while ago about the pervasive problem of sleep deprivation. People are just too damned tired. They’re falling asleep all over the place: at work, in cafes, on busses, while driving, apparently even during sex! And when the program began to discuss the possibility of extra scheduled nap times in the middle of the workday as a solution, I guffawed and smugly turned the radio off. I felt that they were missing the point, and i needed a nap. I obviously liked the idea but, firstly, i felt that the sleepy-time rooms would no doubt be as airless as the offices that knock the people out to begin with. Secondly, the days are already too scheduled. Even sleep is scheduled. There’s a total disregard for the natural rhythms of the life. Our society is all about productivity and, that being the case, I doubted many employers would ever agree with such a proposal.

I always remember the day, during my time working on Sparks Street, when I lay down on a bench in the Clarica building during my lunch break. Even though I was dressed in shirt and tie, even though the bench was out of the main part of the building, a security officer came over and demanded I sit up. I had to sit up! I asked him why, but he only repeated that I was not acting appropriately and that I had to get up. I was not being allowed to lie down even for a few minutes. Indignantly, I pulled my pants back on and left the building.

We know that the most immediate way to change this system, or the world, is to change oneself. It’s a personal thing. Creating a natural, healthy life, replete with ample rest, fresh air and sunlight, is all well and good. It's certainly a laudable goal. And a nap or two during the work-day could be a tremendous help. Meanwhile, however, here's another quirk i've noticed: so many good people continue to sacrifice for their families and that is even more laudable. As well, many great people through the ages, from Sri Aurobindo and Ann Frank to Nelson Mandela, have shown by their examples that no system, confinement or even the innate limitations of our own bodies can really bind the spirit of a person.

'Wall street is where people go in limousines to get advice from people who take the subway.' Warren Buffet.