Roll With It

My teacher, Char, is having us do this meditation every morning. Today, mine went something like this:

"I was standing on a large jagged boulder on Crescent Beach on the Northern California coast. The tide was coming in with a ferocity, and the waves were hurling themselves into the beach and the rock upon which I stood. I was swept off the rock, but attempted to hold on as the rip shredded at my being with all its might. I heard a voice that I trusted say, 'Let go'. I did, and was swept off and beaten into the surf. When I felt the rip lighten, I leapt up and dove straight into the next wave before it could pummel me against the rocks. I swam hard into the ocean and then waited. Pegasus emerged from underneath me, lifting me out of the water onto its back and away we flew. The message from Pegasus: 'Roll with it'.

ROLL WITH IT. Check.

My big plan for the day was to check out Max's rope course, starting at 3pm.

So I get all dressed and bundled up, grab a nectarine and the New Bottoming Book, lock the door, and slip it shut...and I'm going nowhere. Keys are in the house, along with the cell phone. And the spare's in there, too, on the bookshelf where Mikey left it after cat-sitting a few weeks ago. Oh, and all the windows are shut nice and tight to insulate from the recent cold spell.

D.A.M.N.I.T.

So. Since I always have everything I need, I do a quick pat-down, and decide to see if it really is as easy as it looks to jimmy a lock with a bobbypin (note: it's not). I seriously consider smashing a window. Instead, I head down the street and start knocking on my neighbor's doors. The third door reveals Mike and Kym, who graciously help me locate and call a locksmith. Half an hour later, there's a rather cute Israeli curly-topped young fellow drilling into my doorknob. I sit nearby reading the New Bottoming Book. It's taking a long time, and my body, which has been waiting in moderate agony for another rope session for almost two weeks, is extra antsy for this guy to finish up.

"So, what are you reading?"

Crap. I give a nervous laugh. I am reminded of Matisse's 9/26 encounter with the nosy bank teller. Well, he asked.

Me: "A book on Bottoming."

Him: "What's that? My English is not so good."

Me: "Uhm, BDSM. Do you know what BDSM is?"

Him: "BD-- what?"

Me: "Uhm...essentially it's people who like to get tied up and, you know, beat up and yelled at and stuff."

Him: "Oh, the Sado-Maso."

Me: "Yeah, yeah, the Sado-Maso."

Him: "Oh." {brief pause} "So, does the book teach you some new tricks?"

While I'm sensing this guy isn't quite into it, a creative tickle wakes up in the back of my head and makes a face at me.

Me: "No, it's more about how to do it right, so that everybody wins and has a good time. It's pretty amazing stuff if you're into it."

I get the subtle social nicety of a slight nod and grunt of agreement. I eventually change the subject, and find out this guy is looking for a good dance party. I give him some of the flyers I picked up at the United Souls/InnerFlight party last night. If you guys need your keyhole drilled, Remi is your man. He is expecting to be at the Damanhur Fundraiser next week.

Meanwhile, if anyone would like to donate to the Federally-Subsidized-Student-Spaceshots Fund, please contact me. That simple twist of the lock cost me $265 F*%#ing dollars, approximately the same amount I spend on TWO MONTHS WORTH OF GROCERIES.

D.O.U.B.L.E.D.A.M.N.I.T.

I really wonder if it would have been cheaper to go ahead and break the window. More satisfying, certainly.

When this was all said and done, it was 4:20pm, and Max's class was well under way. After pouting for a good twenty minutes, I decided that this was nothing a Dagoba New Moon chocolate bar, a steaming bowl of lentils, a warm blanket, and a "House" marathon couldn't cure. So, without further ado or kvetching, on with the curing!