Sustainability.

Fucking snow! Completely ruined my evening today. I drove home from Vaughan for two hours (a ride that should've taken thirty minutes)! I was driving at 5 km/h, bumper to bumper, passing at least four accidents, and countless snow-ploughs. And I missed my kickboxing classes today. No warm-up now for Wednesday's class, no chance at the punching bags, and no chance to oggle any girls. I'm almost annoyed!

There's a topic I've been meaning to write about for some time, but I kept putting it off due to lack of enthusiasm. I'm fascinated with the idea of evolution and transmission of tradition. Living in a so-called Developed country we see how quickly technology and method changes from decade to decade. The methods of farming and irrigation we use today is not the same as they were five decades ago. But in many areas of the world the lifestyles of the locals have been the same for generations. For perhaps centuries their traditions and way of life had not changed, passing on their techniques from one generation to the next. The North American Aborigines or the Bushmen of Southern Africa are great examples of that. These peoples learned to find a sustainable lifestyle with their environment for many centuries. Often when we look into "natural lifestyles" we take the Aboriginals as an example. But where did they get that knowledge from? Unless one believes that knowledge was divinely passed, they too must've developed it at one point. And that's what piques my curiosity. The point where the natives weren't even native to their environment, where they were in fact alien. That reminds me of the first North American inhabitants that came over from Asia, who met the Wooly Mammoths and hunted them, possibly to extinction. It fascinates me to think of the point of time where modern native cultures struggled to adapt themselves to their environment and find a lifestyle that was sustainable. Certainly I thought about that when I read this article: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/8517748.stm. It challenged the idea of a rural farmer, in my mind. One would think in a country like India, where civilization stretches back several millennia, farmers would be so well adjusted to the harsh temperature deviations. And perhaps they have. But the fact that thousands still suffer in famine says something about their unsustainable lifestyle. But unlike the first peoples who migrated onto North America, these Indians aren't walking into a new world. Rather their population has exceeded what their land can offer, and now they struggle to stay alive by scraping what little they can from underneath their feet.

On a final note, I'm really proud of the Canadian athletes who competed in the Olympics. Even the ones who failed to receive a position on the podium; they practiced so hard, conquering physical and mental barriers, to come to where they were, face to face with the best human beings in the world. That takes a lot. I think Meryl Davis is very pretty. She's American and even if she steals Canada's gold medal I would forgive her. She looks a little weird and I like that.

Hungarian Sausages.

Stupid Bangladesh. Why do I always cheer for the underdog? I just get my hopes up only to have them shattered into smithereens. Now I've focussed my attention onto the West Indies game against Australia. It's not a Test, just a one-day game, so it's outcome wouldn't matter as much to me. Where is Chanderpaul? He and Chris Gayle hold this team together. And out of the two it's Chanderpaul who's reliable. I have nothing to say about the bowlers.

I've completed my snowboarding gear purchases. I have the whole set now: snow-pants, water-proof jacket, goggles, gloves, and toque. Am I excited? I'd say I'm looking forward to it. I don't know what to expect. And this lack of expectation, lack of something to look forward to, might be what's abating my excitement. What will happen on Saturday? It all seems like a passing dream. I wasn't even sure I was going but a week ago. The last few days I've been running about purchasing items from a rough gear list; not knowing where to go, what to look for. And now I'm set, awaiting the morning I'd set off, with little planning or any idea of how I'd get there. It all seems loosely attached, lacking certainty and determination.

I enjoyed the Hungarian sausages I bought today. Mmm, I could still taste it in my breath. The chunks of fat, compactly placed in between the flavoured meat, melted on my tongue after every bite. *droooool* I declare this to be the sausage of the month. I would like to try it colder next time, without frying it. There was another sausage I bought, I forgot the name of it, but I think it must've been Polish. It wasn't as flavourful, so it should be used in conjunction with another food. I will use it in sandwiches, I think. I will visit Starsky's again very soon. I want to try a new sausage every visit. Next time I will see if I can buy some Haaring.

On a final note: life seems dull and dreary without Watership Down. Finishing the book felt like closing up a part of my life. It had been with me throughout these integral months of change. The tales of Hazel, Fiver, and Bigwig paralleled my own adventures. When they struggled it seemed I too struggled alongside them. We shared the same battles, the same fears, the same losses, and the same gains. We shared the burdens. We picked our courage from the same pit. When Hazel's heart beat as he hid in the ditch, from the farmer's gun, my heart beat with his. I think what I loved so much about this book is the utter audaciousness of their missions, the lack of a clear plan, and the sheer determination that saw them through to the end. Then there were the straight-forward missions. No matter how simple the idea was, and however minuscule they envisioned the danger to be, something always went wrong. They held firm to the faith that luck was on their side, even when it was running thin. They pulled from a shallow pool of courage, even when it was thought to be dry. I found my inspiration there.

The Black Caps.

I love watching New Zealand cricket. Yes, the Black Caps are my favourite team, but I also enjoy the Kiwi commentary. They're honest, they're silly, and there's something so quaint about their comments. Well, Bangladesh is visiting them right now, playing their only Test, and although I'm a Kiwi fan I seem to be rooting for the visitors. Why? Because I want them to win at least one Test against a strong country. What was their last victory? West Indies? Pfft.

I had Sunday School today. It made me happy! We were asked to teach meditation at a younger classroom. I enjoy doing this because it gives my students a sense of maturity. I start by giving my own students a pep talk on being mentors and examples. They seem to love this responsibility.
"Why are we always teaching meditation?" asked one student of mine also named Sahan.
"Because I'm the only teacher that knows how to teach meditation." They all gasped at that. "Yeah, in fact, you guys might be more qualified in meditation than anyone else." At this a couple of students got very excited and suggested that I send them each to classrooms (as missionaries) to teach meditation. A lot of the students didn't show up today because of the long weekend. In fact, I only had 8 students (out of a possible 18). Due to the meditation I lost a lot of time too, so in the end I only had about 40 minutes to get through the entire lesson. I handed back the tests, went over them, and talked a bit about the Seven Weeks After Enlightenment. I derailed a little bit to talk about the Tipitaka and it's history. Yes, it took away from my lesson, but it really fed their curiosity. In the end THAT's what engenders a passion in Buddhism. Not rote memorization, not the rules, not the dry chantings. I don't mind taking all the time to fulfill their curiosity. Today a student asked me about the Jhanas. I took 5 minutes to explain what results one experiences in each stage. In his eyes I saw the same passion and love I had in mine when I was first introduced to the subject at 16.

In a final note today I want to state how important MMA has been in my life. Forget the physical results; mentally I feel so much more resilient and determined. The past week there was some drama I had to deal with. I don't think I could've handled it had it been one year ago. I feel stronger and more confident in myself. Through MMA I'm starting to love myself. I think all girls are unstable. Yes, I generalized. Lesson of the day: bitches ain't shit.

Sore.

I will come with my two fists
You will come with iron bars
I will stand up tall
You will knock me down
I will brave the worst you've got
You will crush me to the ground.

I'm preparing for a storm and I cannot predict it's strength. I am still not ready. Will I ever be? I don't know what to anticipate. Whatever I've gained, the storm's gained doubly. I cannot win, I will be defeated.

So I survived the ordeal of yesterday. Actually, it wasn't so much an ordeal, more like a mountain that had to be conquered. Work, kickboxing, and MMA. I got through all three. The Kyoshi increased the pain factor last night. Over our grunts of pain he said, "My goal is to make you stop coming to this class. After tonight you will never want to come back again. Hahaha!" I nearly passed out in kickboxing. I wanted to best last week's workout, so I kept up the routine without rest. This came back to hurt me when I was doing punching bags and I nearly blacked out. MMA was slightly better. We did tossing. I tossed Frank about two dozen times, and my shoulder kills today. Frank did the same and I could see the area of my skin turned red where it had been stretched and pulled. I felt like rubber. Frank complemented me as I wiped a bucketful of sweat from my head, "Your cardio's improved one hundred percent!" That man rarely talks, and so it meant a lot to me.

Today had been a day of rest. I should've run or something. I hate sitting around, it makes my muscles sore and cramped. Watership Down is scaring me. I fear a major battle is up ahead, and I'm not sure if the burrow can handle a full out attack.

I feel strong. Yet not strong enough. I've defeated every challenge that came unto me, but it's the one I can't that I fear.

The lull.

Today is a day of rest for me, before the fury of tomorrow.

Watership Down is engaging me in a way no book ever has. I passed what felt like a climax, but I know the end is far from here. I fear what might happen to the rabbits. They came out very luckily, but they might not be so lucky to escape death a second time. Never in my life have I been so worried for the fate of fictitious rabbits. I love them all dearly, but I fear that love will work against me; I fear one of my favourites will die before the end.

A recent conversation with a friend got me thinking about Blue Whales again. They're renewing themselves in my mind as my favourite animal. They are the biggest animal in the history of the Earth. They weight about 150 tons and are about 100 feet long (which is more than the length of two city buses). They are majestic and beautiful, having an almost hydrodynamic body, made perfect for swimming across their oceanic universe. Often found alone or in pairs, they inhabit all parts of the Earth's oceans. I love their solitude and loyalty. And their large size and patience reminds me of myself.

I'm feeling myself being pulled by my friends. No matter how nonpartisan I try to be I seem to be offending someone. I just want to love freely, to everyone in my life, why must I be pulled into their personal politics? A part of me fears that in the end I might lose them all, if I don't pick a side now. Choosing between loved ones, it's a game I don't want to play again.

I've rested the entire day today and I'm resting still tonight. Tomorrow will be a big day for me: work, kickboxing, and then MMA. I will be lucky to come out alive in the end. No, I am made of tougher stuff. I have steel determination.