Buddha of the oil tanks

My distractions are powerful and sometimes invisible. Last night I woke up and found myself sitting in front of the T.V. with a weighty glass of scotch in my hand. The glass was moist on the outside from condensation and the whisky was still evaporating on my tongue. I tasted vanilla, honey, and something like humid forest. I remembered sitting down on the couch and wrapping myself in a fleece blanket after the boys had gone up to bed. The usual plan on Saturday night is to catch up on a week's worth of Tivo and get lost in some comedy, fantasy, and drama. But I didn't remember pouring myself the whisky. It just appeared.

How is it that I'm so blind to so many of my actions? Sometimes I feel like Pavlov's dog, salivating my way from one sleep to another. What AM I doing all day long when I've checked my awareness at the door? How much of this do I need and what could I let go of? (I don't think anyone could function as if every moment was a new one. Somehow that seems pathological.)

The only time I notice ME noticing the world (does that make sense?) is when I sit to meditate and occasionally when I suddenly "come to" during my waking day.

There's a theory that distractions are a way to avoid discomfort. If we don't distract ourselves with an endless list of pleasures, chores, and fantasies, then we will come face to face with our demons. (I'd rather keep those bad boys locked away in the cellar, thank you very much.) But I listened to a wise man this morning. He convincingly argued that if we let go of our distractions (one at-a-time, as they arise), what we will find isn't demons and tortures, but instead happiness. When we stop distracting ourselves ALL THE TIME, we can pay attention to the hindrances we all share. The hindrances we use to cover up our crystal clear, perfect minds. Happiness is the absence of hindrances.

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Below are photos of junk oil tanks from an evening stroll in Eldorado last month. These kinds of things are ubiquitous on the Alberta landscape. In fact, they are so common that I don't pay attention to them. (There's the connection between the photos and the text! Isn't metaphor grand?) I never wondered where the old ones went until I stumbled on these ones slowly rusting at the edge of a hay field.

We still haven't sold our home in Lohwinkel, so I continue my multi-hour commutes and days away from my family. I'm more content with this long transition than I was in September. There's really no rush now that school's started. In fact, I might even be better to wait. Better for the boys anyway.


The eyes of the beast, September 2009


Orange on orange, September 2009


The handle of a very large mug, September 2009


Up, September 2009


Me inside, September 2009


Me in between, September 2009


Find the dragofly, September 2009


Black residue, September 2009


Lets take a look on top, September 2009


Dangle, September 2009


Inside the black, September 2009


Outer-space drive-in, September 2009


Buddha of the oil tanks, September 2009

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