I Want to Write a Love Letter

I sit here a few days gone by with out writing, a few days of lapsed resolution. While there are valid excuses for most of my current shortcomings, it would be insincere to say that everything has been done to accomplish my goals. There is still more. This imbalance between ambition and industry will be brought to equilibrium.

It is, at times, astounding how resilient people can be to nuance, but equally disturbing is the realization of one’s own close minded attitudes. The struggle for purity is a futile effort – purity, if it ever exists, is an innate trait and can not be achieved by even the most diligent observances. As the lion smashes the gold scaled dragon “Thou Shalt,” “I Will” yields to moderation as the wisest course and thus a child is born. With that child there is power to create. The man I want to be is a child.

In this light Shambhala looks more promising – I could follow the path of the gentle warrior. But I fear practice could amount to nothing more than attending a self help seminar with its own brand of delusions; isn’t anything that isn’t self-destructive a form of self help? Why do those words carry such a despised connotation?

Now it turns out I won’t be going to the zoo to see the animals, Andrew Bird, and Alexandra, which is a shame – I was really looking forward to this. On the subject of music I have this to say: Normally I wouldn’t consider listening to a folk band anyone sent me, let alone my mother. She and I rarely share similar tastes in music and too often “folk” bands are unskilled “jam” bands. That being said, my mom sent me a link to Abigail Washburn and I’m very impressed. When civilization grinds to a halt we’ll be making more music much like she does now. You can check out her music here: http://www.myspace.com/abigailwashburn