Drink heavily, put on some dark music and retire to the garage to smear paint on a canvas. I suck at painting but it’s about the only thing that keeps me on the level anymore.
at 11:11 I make a wish
I warm food up in the microwave for 1:11
I set my alarm for 5:11 am
My Soccer team counts to 11 for warm ups. one eleven, two eleven, three eleven, four eleven…
I wear a memory braid in honor of my Brother that passed away a few years ago
It is a blackfoot tradition, a Long braid wrapped in suade, and decorated with beads and shells.
and on the 11th of every month I unwrap my braid, and rebraid it.
I do find the sort of low grade OCD that even the most “normal” of people exhibit quite funny, I’m kinda disorganised myself and don’t like rigidity generally, but we all have our weird compulsions, whether it’s hoarding junk, putting our tin cans in alphabetical order in the cupboard or whatever, humans are quite enamoured of structure, it’s only when it inhibits our daily lives I think it is a problem. It’s just one of the interesting facets of the human mind.
To be fair, elevens signify good times, atleast I think It does, because it makes feel good inside. I do not feel like I need to join a support group because of it, or even hang out with a group of people who feel the same way. friggin weirdos, are you kidding me
My little obsession makes me laugh, and at the same time feel organised.
My father used elevens a lot when I was growing up. I think subconsciously it caught on, oddly enough, my Sisters use elevens a lot too.
And I imagine in my time of coaching soccer, I have past down my Eleven obsession to hundreds of Children- and I imagine that Eleven will signify good times for them also.
Kind of like a tradition, we do them because they feel good, and we pass it down to the next generation. I just do it with a simple number.
All of a sudden I feel really awesome.
Last night my Sister texted, she likes to get the last text in, she is weird like that. She stays up until midnight to be the first person to say 'Happy Birthday" to whomever is having a Birthday. (Big Family) she is obsessed with being first, and last. Anyway, My last text to her last night was ‘Good Night Anal Mcloony’
She laughed.
Ah sadly I would like to be able to take credit for that but it is from Scrubs, Dr. JD to Dr. Elliot, who is of course anal and a bit crazy. Incidentally Mcloony is a genuine Scottish clan name. Pointless trivia.
Sometimes I will pray, not for wants simply to talk.
Sometimes I’ll listen to beautiful music. The type that allows me too feel my soul.
Sometimes I will be outside late at night or early in the morning, when no cars travel down my road and gaze at the majesty of the trees, the tall grass and stars and contemplate my place in life, of life itself. Think of the past and future, think of others who have gazed at the same stars and moon or have looked upon similiar trees and fields.
Introspection. In the sense that I seek an understanding of what is necessary, and thereby unifying, in nature.
I also make an effort to see my life, in all its bland normalcy, as something beautiful. In my efforts, I usually wind up finding beauty in others and various odd things.
And music… few things in life move me in a deeper sense.
Sex with my wife, and attempts to look directly into my son’s eyes when he asks an earnest question. In both cases I continue to receive a bounty of wonder. I also gain a warbling frequency of spiritual feedback from the rituals of being a teacher. Otherwise life’s pretty much a wide gradient of greyish mundanity, in terms of sacred practice at least.
I do find the sort of low grade OCD that even the most “normal” of people exhibit quite funny, I’m kinda disorganised myself and don’t like rigidity generally, but we all have our weird compulsions, whether it’s hoarding junk, putting our tin cans in alphabetical order in the cupboard or whatever, humans are quite enamoured of structure, it’s only when it inhibits our daily lives I think it is a problem. It’s just one of the interesting facets of the human mind.
