She comes in like a star wearing jewelry and fur

[m***@gmail.com]

My yoga studio is hosting this whole “be a more well rounded yogi" bingo board challenge this month. I don’t refer to myself as a yogi, but bingo is pretty nifty and I’ve always been internally competitive, so I figured what the hell. The pranayama was interesting, and some of the more gentle classes are surely a good balance to my usual thing, which is to sweat hard enough to forget that I can’t go for a run. The spirituality component though … yeah, it’s safe to say I’m not going to fill my bingo board.

For the past month I’ve been doing something weird: attending Mass. No, I have not had a religious epiphany after 33+ years of atheism. But Mom was clearly depressed, paralyzed, in desperate need of a community, and refusing to do the church thing on her own. So I basically dragged her. At first she was all “you’re such a weirdo, this isn’t necessary [insert schoolgirl giggle].” But now she’s clearly fucking delighted. And whatever, it costs me little.

There have been some unexpected knockoff effects though. Apparently that stuff you learn by rote as a tiny child is all still living somewhere in your head, and hymns and prayers have suddenly become earworms that it takes a shit ton of loud punk rock to override. R caught me humming the lord’s prayer the other day and I nearly died of shame.

The whole communion thing is odd, too. I am most certainly not taking the sacrament, having neither the desire or time to confess all the sins committed between the ages of 16 and 49 to some dude in a robe. But even so, it’s got me thinking. About, what … copping to your own bullshit? Accountability? Something like that. Back in the day there were times when I was just too embarrassed to take responsibility for whatever hideous thing I’d done. But now? Generally being willing to admit when I’ve been a selfish asshole seems important.

Does any of that count as spirituality? Should I read up on Buddhism? Does dog worship count?

There’s no one left here who would care, but taking inventory is never a bad thing. Relationship is solid and warrants no angstful mention. Work is still a corporate seventh layer, except now I’m somehow in charge. I remain healthy with the exception of shit knees, migraines, and some manageable spinal compression. The parents are respectively cancerous and financially reliant. I’m more happy than not, but life and people still pretty much suck.

M

[u***@gmail.com]

Post by m***@gmail.com
My yoga studio is hosting this whole “be a more well rounded yogi" bingo board challenge this month. I don’t refer to myself as a yogi, but bingo is pretty nifty and I’ve always been internally competitive, so I figured what the hell. The pranayama was interesting, and some of the more gentle classes are surely a good balance to my usual thing, which is to sweat hard enough to forget that I can’t go for a run. The spirituality component though … yeah, it’s safe to say I’m not going to fill my bingo board.
For the past month I’ve been doing something weird: attending Mass. No, I have not had a religious epiphany after 33+ years of atheism. But Mom was clearly depressed, paralyzed, in desperate need of a community, and refusing to do the church thing on her own. So I basically dragged her. At first she was all “you’re such a weirdo, this isn’t necessary [insert schoolgirl giggle].” But now she’s clearly fucking delighted. And whatever, it costs me little.
There have been some unexpected knockoff effects though. Apparently that stuff you learn by rote as a tiny child is all still living somewhere in your head, and hymns and prayers have suddenly become earworms that it takes a shit ton of loud punk rock to override. R caught me humming the lord’s prayer the other day and I nearly died of shame.
The whole communion thing is odd, too. I am most certainly not taking the sacrament, having neither the desire or time to confess all the sins committed between the ages of 16 and 49 to some dude in a robe. But even so, it’s got me thinking. About, what … copping to your own bullshit? Accountability? Something like that. Back in the day there were times when I was just too embarrassed to take responsibility for whatever hideous thing I’d done. But now? Generally being willing to admit when I’ve been a selfish asshole seems important.
Does any of that count as spirituality? Should I read up on Buddhism? Does dog worship count?
There’s no one left here who would care, but taking inventory is never a bad thing. Relationship is solid and warrants no angstful mention. Work is still a corporate seventh layer, except now I’m somehow in charge. I remain healthy with the exception of shit knees, migraines, and some manageable spinal compression. The parents are respectively cancerous and financially reliant. I’m more happy than not, but life and people still pretty much suck.
M

I completed a period of taking inventory a while back that wasn't particularly pleasant and was not "self-directed" or, at least, it wasn't something I'd chose to go through while sane. Oddly, many things I "dealt" with weren't real. My fears led me to believe, after internal debate, things that did not occur and/or that I couldn't know about if they did occur like having a child that raped someone else's child (someone I don't even know whether they had children) that created a monster child who killed a bunch of people. I was certain that it was all real at the time and that I was being judged by God. I was also certain for quite some time that I was a recurring reincarnation, a part of God, and that I'd existed for 100,000 years. That was interesting for a while. There were other scenarios and for a while I went from one to another every few hours, completing the circuit in a couple of days. This went on for a year or so.

Anyway.

It seems a good thing that you support your mother though I wonder why you felt the need to cleanse yourself. My 2+ years of insanity included a period where I was certain I was talking with representatives of God (and occasionally God made an appearance though he/she mainly said things like "Believe in yourself". I'd fuck with the other voices and say that the voice said, "believe in your cell phone".

Anyway. It was an odd time.

I could use some yoga but I lack the flexibility.

Yes, I know.

Be well. all. Be well.