I’m extremely happy about my day. Work was work, as usual. When I asked for help on a few tickets I was told I need to pick it up, so I guess I will start to pick it up to the best of my ability. I’ve been told things like this before in all of the jobs I’ve had before, and then within weeks turned it around and was a top-performer, minus the exception of the time I worked in a sales call center for a brief time, yet I’ll trade that up to it not being a good fit as a company or an endeavor, for myself. I could have turned it into more but it really didn’t excite me all that much.
So now I’ve had the previous experience of being stressed out in positions, thinking I’m not cut out for it, only to impress myself and others within a short amount of time, so now I’m here thinking there’s no rush to be any different, if it doesn’t work out it doesn’t work out, and I’ll find something that does.
You see, my morning was set for success. As I drove to a company meeting I chanted Hare Krishna for about 10 minutes, without background music, just my voice. It really set the tone for the rest of the day, hearing my voice and how beautifully I can sing to my ear’s content this powerful mantra.
I had a fleeting thought of finding people and helping them by waking them up to the reality that they are Krishna, they are Rama, they are infinite, and all is well. It was an exciting idea. I thought that if more people operated out of the base reality of manifest destiny that the universe would ring differently. Only I know how much it has changed its ringing for me, and I want to share that with others.
Throughout the rest of the day I thought about it in an interesting way. What if I told you the secret words to getting everything you ever wanted and more? What if I told you what would unlock the keys to the universe? And all you had to do to make it work was say it. The catch? You’d have to keep saying it to keep experiencing it. Well, that’s the Hare Krishna mantra. I thought about the people I met at temple one time who I heard uttering Hare Krishna really fast as they went through their prayer beads, and I felt, personally that is to say it comes from the ego, that the chanting can become an obsessive compulsion for some. I figured what if I said Hare Krishna without keeping count, or if I kept count, focused on the energy instead of the quantity?
So when I meditate I too focus on the energy instead of the time, and I pull my energy in and then let it go out. I read something yesterday about kundalini I don’t remember what, it may have been from this site, it may have not. So throughout yesterday and today I tried to contract the sexual energy described within the article and drive it up towards the base of my spine, and I did that today too whilst driving and chanting most likely.
At some point during work I stopped at a grocery store to use the bathroom and I bought a mix of nuts, with apple and banana dried pieces, and also a bag of cashews. I ate from both of these bags, even though I had lunch with me, left over pasta, because I felt like I needed nuts. The Essenes’ book I read parts of told me that I must have nuts because nuts make my bones stable, and I ate them. I was surprised that I didn’t eat as much as the last time I got a bag of cashews and accidentally ate half a pound or more within a few hours.
When I went back to the parking lot of the grocery store I saw a man sleeping outside of it and thought of offering him nuts but didn’t. Then as I left I saw a man with a sign and I went up to him and asked him if he wanted the nuts I had, which I had a small portion of. He greeted me as brother which was interesting because that’s what I had wanted to greet the man sleeping on the side of the store (I didn’t think of giving him nuts while sleeping, I realized that as I got closer to him). So the one that greeted me with brother was happy I gave him those nuts, and he was eating a salad, and he thanked me and I went on my way. Then as I got to my car and went to drive away, I saw a really interesting sign a man was holding. I asked him what it meant and he said whatever I make out of it.
I asked him if he wanted nuts (the 90% remainder of my cashews, which was at least half a pound). He accepted, and then before taking the bag he asked me if I was sure he wasn’t munching on my snack. I responded no. Then he looked at me and asked me what I do, I said I’m a locator. He said how’s that cheese for you? Then he corrected himself as he stammered and said “how’s that job for you?” He continued to fill in, and said “so you drive around in a car?” I said I locate gas and electrical lines, and then I went on my way.
When I got to my next job I realized I forgot my transmitting machine by the grocery store where I was working before. I cursed in my head, and then reminded myself that I desired to have a day without cursing within my head, and dreamed of a year or two ago when I did not curse, so much that my friend was surprised when I did when we saw each other again, regarding a story I told, because they said that I never curse so they figured what happened must have been crazy if I was cursing. So they didn’t know this, because they don’t see me often, but I cursed nearly about everything all the time when they saw me, and almost still do. I don’t know how I stopped three years ago all together, I never intended it. Maybe it was because I spent a lot of time at work as an optician and didn’t have the floor to curse so it just carried over.
So as I’m cursing in my head and reminding myself not to, I realize why it’s silly to curse about having forgotten the transmitter. It’s because I was meant to go back and see that man. I went back and parked to get my transmitter, then I went up to him. He had a different side of his sign up.
I asked if I could take a photo of both sides and he said yes. Then we spoke. He asked where I was from, I said the East Coast. He told me this is a great city with opportunities but people bring their gambling with them, and their grind, and that messes it all up. That spoke to me. He said what I had been thinking about my own approach to life at times. I asked him if I could touch his feet and he said I don’t see why you would, and then I bowed down and held his flip flops for a brief moment and got up and he said he doesn’t know what that meant, and then he said what will the people think? I said they can think what they want to think. On my way driving out into the intersection I saw him again and I thanked him for asking me what I do, because I said I forgot I’m not a locator, I’m a writer, and photographer, and traveler, and I got caught up in thinking my job was different than it is. He asked me if I’m into videography, and I said I am. He told me he has ideas for film. I asked him if he has a phone number and he said no. He gave me an intersection where he keeps his van parked, that he lives out of. I tried my best to remember it, but I had forgotten the second street by the time I pulled out to take my right as the light turned green. I wrote it down when I got to where I was going. I’ve got about a 5 block radius that should give me a general direction of where he’s at, he said I can leave a message at his van.
Sounds dandy to me. I didn’t go after work because I was tired and didn’t think I would find it in my state, and I would get frustrated and hungry and cold, so I skipped it for now, knowing that the more I wait the less chance it will be that he will be there. When we first met he said his name was Cory, I said that’s the name of my friend who became brain dead, he said I was giving him nightmares that’s what would happen to him, I said no that’s not you, and it is, you’re reincarnated.
I identify with homeless people because I’ve lived in many places over the years and I don’t connect with the typical things that people connect with. I sleep on the floor, without a bed or a pad. I have a blanket and a pillow I use to sleep. I’ve slept on the sides of streets in 42 degree weather, I’ve napped on the side of a street before waiting for a friend to come and give me a ride, I’ve traded my shoes with a homeless man before who complained that his were old and mine were new, and many, many, many more experiences have become me like this. I thought about the implications of this. One of my friends is often “homeless” when he travels away from his home which he has a hard time staying in for a long time. I was introduced to the friend that I live with now, while I was with this friend who is “often homeless,” traveling through a city across the country, by a man we met who was homeless and still may be. I forgot to mention that on the same day I traded my shoes with a homeless man, another homeless man gave me his lucky quarter or dime, when I gave him a lucky nickel I had, since it was all I really had on me of value. I’d found that nickel earlier in the day and stored it with some other little thing I’d found that day, in my pocket. Later on I ended up giving that other little thing, which I don’t remember now, but was important to me at the time, to another homeless man.
So all in all, I identify with homeless people because a while ago I came up with this quote, because of the way I feel, which is as follows: “the walls of my home are the edges of the universe.” You see, the difference between being homeless and being realized as I may be, possibly, is virtually none. I don’t know the difference now and I doubt I ever well.
Well, anyways, this is really dragging on isn’t it?
Today I spoke with my friend who is visiting in less than a week and a half, and also I spoke with another two friends of mine and all conversations have been nice and heart-warming. One friend who is a vegan is going to start a site and photography soon, with their DSLR. My other friend is going to teach yoga at the meditation group I first met them at, which we both went to for the first time on the same day, which is when we met each other. And my other yoga friend, the one who is partaking in YTT (yoga teacher training), the one who is visiting, has such a nice story that they’ve written for their Seva project. Last night I accidentally read more than the 20% I had been meaning to read, so today I only have four pages left, instead of more to break it up and savor it. There was a photo of their son in there which was so cute I looked at it for a while and it brought back memories of being a child, and my friend also sent me a recording of them and their son singing a mantra which was so neat. I’d never heard a kid that young sing a mantra before! I did see a kid younger than 10 play some sort of drum instrument at the temple I went to once, and he played it quite well, in fact, he was the leading instrument in the temple for the majority of the song and dance, and trance.
Anyways, I still go on. My phone is being odd, I wanted to respond to my friend but it keeps turning on and off and it’s stuck at 1% even though it is charging. I hope it’ll figure itself out, but who am I kidding? It probably will. It will.
So what’s left to share? I’m not quite sure. Oh yes!
I went running as soon as I got home. I tore off my clothes, got a head cover to keep my neck and head warm, drank some water, and practically ran out the door. I had the MapMyRun app tracking going within 20 steps of exiting the house.
The other day I had been speaking to my investor and running friend and they shared a brief feeling of happiness of when they ran a 4 something mile in high school, and how it was a perfect run: perfect weather, perfect competition, and so forth. It brought back memories of me running and him pacing me.
Oh! Before I continue with the running memories. This yoga friend of mine after we had dinner one time to celebrate their getting a new job, I dropped them off and asked them if I could give them a third eye kiss. I had done this once before them, and then maybe within two weeks I gave three people third eye kisses all at once as they arrived to a party I was at. Since then I haven’t done this again. So I was reading about their Seva project and how it went from helping their yoga student, who ended up quitting more or less, to teaching their son yoga. What stood out to me was that they gave their son a third eye kiss, which was neat to know of someone else who does this. Also while reading their writing I was so enthralled! I hope they will make it public some day so more people can read it.
So back to the running. I had memories of perfect runs, when my friend described perfect runs. I told them about how I love being able to know how far I’ve run just by looking at my stopwatch; that is, because when I train I have a pace I know, and I can tell distance by my time running.
I remembered running races in which the pace was equal across all fourths of a mile. I loved those races! Those are the best! Because at the end you can power through with a “kick,” that is, giving it your all. Today I started my mile with a good pace and I knew, I just knew, it would be a good run. At first I thought I was running four miles, that is, two miles down, and two miles back. Then I realized this wasn’t a four mile race. This was a one mile race and I was putting in good time, when I heard the pace read back to me: .25 miles, 1 minute 28 seconds, pace 5 minutes 52 seconds. It could have even been 5 minutes 38 seconds. I don’t remember. When I heard that I was thinking “is this a mistake?” I don’t feel like I’ve been running that quickly! This is a good pace! I don’t feel tired! Keep it up!
After running another fourth of a mile at that pace, I knew I was in for a sub-6 minute mile. This was going to be big! My first sub-six minute mile running in this new city with a new elevation! I finished the mile in 5 minutes 51 seconds.
That’s simply amazing!
This is what my pace looked like. Could have it been closer to a line? Yes. Am I happy with how I felt? Yes. I often think that I can tell how hard a workout is by the amount of spit and snot that ends up on my shirt as I try spitting, and failing. After the run I was surprised because I was clean. I thought too early, for on the run back, I spit as I was getting home and the entire glob landed on my shirt. I guess the run back was the harder part, since I was doing my best to run it at an intense pace after the impressive pace I had just completed.
My theory for why I ran this great run today is because of the nose bleed I had in the shower the day before yesterday. I think I lost blood which had less oxygen, and now that I am acclimated to my climate, my blood has more oxygen in it, and as a result, I have “doped,” in a way. My roommates tell me doping is putting the blood back after taking it out. I’m still certain that blood letting would make one stronger if they’re letting out old blood. It’s like if you have an enema, which purifies you. Why wouldn’t losing bad blood make you better? Isn’t that what old medicine was all about? Losing bad blood?
Today at work my headache caused me to see the rocks in front twist, enlarge, and spin as I closed my eyes. After running my headache was just splitting. I realized that hitting my head also had a benefit on me. It gave me a lot of pain, in a short burst of time, so that when I ran, my body compared the small pains of continuing to run quickly, with the pace of a large pain all at once, and it knew it was alright because it was nowhere near in as much pain as it could be, so in all, it was just taking a walk through the park.
Now you see, if I continue to train, and I get a bike and swim and hike, and run regularly, and then I go to a lower elevation and run on a track, I should be able to demolish my personal best of 5:32. That will be absolutely fantastic to see a time quicker than 5:32 on my stopwatch, which reminds me, I don’t know where my stopwatch is. I’ve had it since high school and I hope I haven’t lost it. Time will tell.
As I’m finishing up writing, I’m having this idea of making a sign and going out and sitting with it.
Oh, good thing I didn’t finish yet. When I was in my car I saw this woman I had seen at the first shabbat I attended. Now mind you, my friend’s daughter-in-law (who was raised Jewish) warned me when I was all excited about how amazing Jews are that some can be snotty and contrived and even elitist, this is what I got from the conversation, not to put words in their mouth, but its the emotions I felt put into my brain, so I thought no, Jews are awesome I’ve come across Christians and Buddhists and Muslims who are extreme or unkind, but no, Jews blew my mind away, they won’t fail me, or at least, no member of Jews will.
So this woman was on the phone, I said “why hello there!” She looked at me and couldn’t remember me. I said I saw you at shabbat. She’d been halfway through setting her bag down, to sit on a bench. She said “oh right,” then I went to looking at my phone or something, and then I saw her picking up her stuff and leaving. When I left myself, I saw her sitting on another bench. I was SO upset by this. I can’t begin to tell you. I assumed, regardless of knowing that one shouldn’t assume, that she didn’t think I was worthwhile speaking with (even though she was on the phone she could have said “oh why, nice to see you,” or something of that sort, and then didn’t have to move away. I even went through the trouble of thinking her phone call was private and she didn’t want me overhearing it.
I went through so many scenarios to disprove to myself that I shouldn’t feel negative about it. Yet deep down, in my gut, I just KNEW that they didn’t like me. Not because of who I am, but because of my appearance. You’ve got this guy wearing a florescent yellow vest, in a car that’s white but all muddy, with an orange beacon flashing on and off, it’s just not sightly. I KNEW that if I was in a Tesla or a convertible, and I said the same thing, they would have responded differently. I just knew it. Well, you see, that’s why I have the benefit of learning so much from others’ is because I never judge them by their looks. I listen to all as well as I can, regardless of their clothes or immediate position. So by that token I am blessed, and she is not, and I pray that she will be more open.
Oh, I remember now what I was told by the daughter in law of my friend. Something about the circle being tight and there being a hierarchy, more or less, I don’t remember if they told me this exactly but that’s what I got from it, since they were speaking in politically correct terms. I’ve always been an outlier, so all of this suits me.
Save your strength, and run the field, you play alone.
That’s the message I saw before encountering this woman by the way.
To be continued…
Author’s note: It has been in my best interest at times to not include times I’ve judged others, because of the possibility that they or their friends may read it. One of my friends told me about how writers write for themselves, and in the beginning this writing was all for myself, and now it has become somewhat myself with a guard of not wanting to step on toes, well, if someone reads this and is offended then they can bring it to my attention and have me improve from it. Otherwise I’m in the right for feeling the feelings that I do, and having the conclusions that I want, even though I know in the end of the day that this is all an illusion and not baes reality, we are in a simulation of a simulation, and the results of the atoms smashing against each other randomly in this universe to create odd reactions and encounters is not quite that worth fussing about. You know?
I’m going to do some work now and get some sleep, within an hour I hope.
Also published on Medium.