I usually pray over my food. This can easily be a perfunctory act but lately it actually makes me feel better. Because without my acts of religiosity I am left with my feminism, my democratic and anarchic leanings, and my existentialist novels. Things can get highly unbalanced or stereotypical (especially when I'm wearing a boxy, corduroy blazer).
Sometimes the part of me that prays is my blue collar worker side. Not always, not exclusively, but frequently it's the assembly line/shipyard/house keeper inside of me. There are times when I'm tired of trying to find every answer and I just want to live life. And so I pray. Maybe you're not following how the one leads to the other. It's for the same reason that one afternoon a few years ago I sat down at my desk thinking, "Wait...I'm actually not convinced that God exists," which would make my philosophy of the purpose of life null and void– at that moment when I was falling into a black hole, I got up and took a shower. Because what else is a person supposed to do?
The one follows the other because I can only take so much of trying to reconcile the world. I can only handle so much of imperialism, Freud, cut-throat insurance companies, cancer, abuse, and oppression. At that point I have to take a break, pull out my lunch and pray over my food.
I use this prayer-time to think of the food in my lap as a gift from the earth, I try to be sufficiently grateful and remember to take only what I need...
Good heavens, I'm in a waxing serious streak. I need to start making fun of myself more. And yes, I have watched quite a few No Doubt music vids on youtube today.
This also maybe be how I'm spending these sleepless hours: http://www.ornettecoleman.com/ (run your mouse over the colored triangles)
13 October 2010
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my intellectual side prays less than my blue collar desperation.
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