Self-Conscious Cactus
They tell me with a relaxed grin that they envy my diligence regarding schoolwork.
You acknowledge Jesus Christ and Santa over the holiday season, but what about those pagan tree gods you unintentionally recognize by decorating and lighting up that strong-smelling tree in your living room?
Since I've started to develop my own, personal spiritual mindset I've incorporated aspects of other religions because even though I believe in Christ Jesus and God, I've always felt there was more to it than that. Today I got an English translation of the Bhagavad-Gita out of the library. It's an important piece of Hindu scripture. I've always been interested in Hinduism, so even though it's not "required", it's a "recommended" read because of it's importance in the religion.
Through the hollow shades a confused wind stirred into the warm room. Sheets of plastic clapped together and a poster loudly ruffled on the wall. It was late November and the thermometer outside read 5º Celsius. The trees, streets, and rooftops sat barren; there was no snow to captivate and motivate people to heave shovels and create snowmen. The season was in hiatus. It fell somewhere between fall and winter, but it failed to decide on either. It was a weakened state... seemingly steadfast and durable, but underlying that gentle breeze sat the uneasy stomach of global warming. It would vomit millions of tons of seawater onto shorelines, so much that it would swallow cities and never recede. Drought would pollute Saskatchewan and winnow the vegetation we have into a palate of biting sand and wind. The cruel, -20º winds filled with shards of icy flakes would be welcome at this time of year. A swamp of snowdrifts that children charge through in militant-fashion would be eagerly accepted. Not by the majority, no but by me, yes. The skies should be darkened by pregnant cloud, hanging deep with plump clusters of snowflakes. Large, cumbersome machines should be leisurely casting waves of sand across the snow-ridden roads, and cars should be mashing the snow and sand into a murky mixture.
Pomegranate on the bough,
Accurate tally of solid hours spent on two-week painting project: 20 hours.
I stirred apathetically in the morning. Bad dreams permeated my sleep last night. The night needed to end. When it did, I rose without feeling. I looked outside to see the snow and warmth developed in my heart. The snow looked lively, delicate, and sweet. It winked at me from the yellow-light cast from the window. Despite my dreams, despite everything, I anticipate today.
While reading the textbook today, I came across an experiment by sociologist Dr. Stanley Milgram (1963, 1965). Don't stop reading! This is interesting!
Why are people attracted to what they can't have? Is it solely because they can't have it? The prospect of the unattainable person? What is so desirable about someone you can never have?
We round up with such a number. I'm done 69% of my World Religions essay. You know what this calls for? Nothing less than a s-c-a-n-d-a-l-o-u-s poem. Wink wink.