It’s been a long, cold, lonely winter. In my opinion, March came in like a soggy little lamb.Old Man Winter has since elbowed his way in and frosted up my windows again.
I am tired of wearing my bulky winter coat and big boots. It’s no fun while waiting for city buses that don’t show up on time.
I have aches in my body and my tender heart. I have no motivation to do morning stretches. I have to push myself to get on the buses in to the city. Some days I just want to stay home and putter.
I am tired of supporting flakey technology that doesn’t provide consistent results.
I feel inconvenienced. I used to like puzzles and technical challenges.
I feel like an old grump.
Je suis déçu!
On the other hand, I have been embracing my inner child, nurturing and encouraging that shy artist from my awkward adolescence. You can read more at the blog where the Tabby Cat rules.
Thanks for dropping by. Excuse me as I grumble, preparing to take the weekend buses in a quest for new stretchy pants and “stylish” Mom jeans. First world problems…
That question was recently asked by what could have been a younger, curious version of myself.
A few times each month, I spend three hours of bliss volunteering in a small bookshop.
I get to meet interesting people, stroke and skim through the latest items placed on the shelves. Not a month goes by without me purchasing something of interest to me or someone I love. I like the fact that sales revenues go towards purchasing new books and supporting programs for our local libraries. Being in that book shop is the closest I can get to working in a library – for now 🙂
My recent volunteer shift was graced by the usual lingering regulars and families attending events nearby. It warms my heart when children express delight as they find a book or two that they want their parents to buy.
One particular tot caught my attention while exploring books with her older sister, parents and grandmother. She approached the front desk, her blonde head barely above the counter, her blue eyes peering at me.
“What’s your name?” she asked in a sweet and barely audible voice.
I responded with a smile and asked about hers. Her Mother responded on her behalf due to the child’s limited conversation skills.
Then the child asked, “Why are you here?”
“Why am I here? Well… I like books, I like meeting new people and selling them books.”
Then she skittered away to explore the shelves with her family.
Soon she returned to ask again “Why are you here?”.
After I repeated my previous response I wanted to ask the wee thing if she was being philosophical about the big picture but I decided it would just confuse matters.
It was cute. It was thought-provoking in a naive kind of way.
I think that was a helpful experience for those basic queries we should ask ourselves often, like “Why am I here?”.
If we cannot answer the why, we could at least ask, “What am I doing during my time here?”.
Come on Boomers, who didn’t get a thrill from striking matches or flicking cigarette lighters, experiencing that primal awe of having fire at your fingertips?
Who didn’t test their lungs out of curiosity and peer pressure with a prized pack of Du Mauriers or Old Port wine-tipped cigars? Who didn’t deeply inhale the aroma of a freshly opened pack of cigarettes?
Who didn’t get dizzy and nauseous their first time?
Why didn’t they stop there?
In my young adult years, smoking was part of dance bar outings and mostly a social crutch. It gave party-goers something to do with their hands while practicing conversation skills and courting rituals. That was so many years ago and before I carried my children.
From my caffeine-induced, Sunday morning Web research, I can see that smoking started as an experience of the spiritual, for Native Americans to call upon and to give thanks for the six energies. The peace pipe was an important symbol to the indigenous people in the Ottawa Valley as well. Tobacco was used as an offering to the sacred waterfalls named after the pipe bowl.
So with smokers these days, does that mean people are trying to capture that inner reflection or reaching up to the divine? Do they want to meet their maker sooner than intended? How much of their earnings have gone up in smoke?
I often wonder if smoking (and now vaping) are subconscious, primal desires for the comfort of suckling at our Mothers’ breast as well as reaching for the Divine. At least those who choose vaping are doing it to wean them off the death sticks. You can do it!
Social behaviour
I’d like to thank those public transportation users who walk a few meters away from the shelter to light up and begin your ritual of self-reflection while waiting for the next bus. Please complete your ritual by stomping out your cigarette instead of tossing it into the dry grass beside the bus shelter, and please completely exhale your sacred smoke before boarding the bus.
I will be sure to not sit close to you and experience the stench wafting from your hair, clothes and breath.
Be kissable
Another reason to quit smoking is to increase your attraction and possibilities for pleasurable mouth pressing activities.
Ah yes, pleasurable mouth pressing activities and making for romantic memories…
Thanks for dropping by. May your lip puckering activities be refreshing, memorable and sweet.
Deep Blonde Thoughts 