Lunchtime Ruminations

I am writing between overly large bites of tunafish sandwich. Today I am doing the easy penance of giving up meat. I love meat, and would eat it around the clock, but if I don't give it up I have to think up an alternative penance, and I always have this nagging suspicion that the alternative I imposed on myself was much too soft. Probably becuase it usually is.

So, rather than have to think "well, is a whole decade of the rosary required, or can I just do the three Our Fathers and five Hail Marys, just like what Fr. gave me at last confesion?" and to get into the whole direction of thought that leads the wrooooong way, I am just doing the fishie thing.

Now, the fishie thing is a really light penance, especially since I absolutely love canned tuna fish. And, when it is mixed with celery, a generous dollop of mayonaise and put on some earthy, grainy hippy bread that has been lightly toasted, and eaten with a Lithuanian white wheat beer... Heaven.

Yes, I suppose I could skip the beer, omit the celery, etc., but then it would seem that I am getting away from the whole reason I am simply sticking with the tried and true.

So, as I am attacking a delicious tunafish sandwich, I am thinking about penance and matters spiritual. Terrific. And now, dear reader, you get to be bored by this stuff.

What I am thinking about is the fact that I don't generally post spiritual stuff on the blog. For one, you could probably launch a rock in just about any direction and it would clock someone who would give you better spiritual advice than I would (for instance, the sort of person whose first image to pop in his head for selecting a random person would not involve stoning anyone).

Second, sure, I read a lot, and know what other folks have to say on these matters, but if I were to write this stuff, I would feel obliged to, well, do something about it.

So, I could go on for paragraphs on not letting anger master you. I could tell you about how liberating it is to "let go of anger," to forgive, to not let anyone "take your peace." And then the next time some idiot Volvo driver cuts me off, I would then have to think about whether or not I want to assault him with a stream of Italian obscenitites, and by the time I came to the conclusion that I did, the moment would have passed, and it would have become just a pro forma barrage of obscenitites, and that is no fun. And eventually, the anger would just build. And one day, I would be driving along, whistling a happy tune, and some idiot in a Volvo would come barreling out of a driveway, obvlivious to the world, lost in a fog of shallow thoughts on what a good liberal she was being, and that would be it. All that stress would just make my head pop.

"What exactly did you see?"

"I dunno. It was just a big, like, pop! There was this bearded guy driving, and he got this look on his face, and then his head popped."

Since I do not want my head to pop, I will avoid dispensing with spiritual advice.

Third, I am not a priest. I do not trust non-priests in these matters. They are ordained to do this stuff. Not me. They listen to your confessions, not me. The only confessions I could see myself listening to would be down in the basement of headquarters, and only for very, very big cases involving Badthought against Our Imperial Person.

I will give this advice, though:

1. Go to mass.
2. Go to confession.
3. Pray.
4. Do your Friday penance.

By the way, choking is when you have a blockage in your windpipe. What do you call it when you have taken too many bites and eaten too quickly, and you get a traffic jam in your esophagus? That is really unpleasant, and should teach me a lesson about eating quickly. But you get me hungry and put a tunafish sandwich in front of me...

Posted by erik at January 26, 2007 11:27 AM