Mindfulness

I have oft mentioned my friend Jessica in posts past.  Jessica and I met when we were about 12 at UTS, a school for the gifted from which she matriculated and I did not.  We remained friends, lost touch for a good many years, and reacquainted ourselves a few years ago.  She has been a wonderful guide and support here in Los Angeles.  The other day her friend was doing a reading on her recently published book on mindfulness.  Mindfulness involves adhering to the idea of living life in the moment – not dwelling on the mistakes of the past, not anticipating the hurdles of the future.  In this area as you might well imagine, I suck.  I thought it would be a good idea to give such a practice a whirl as it is supposed to result in a calmer stress free life.

I was at the rental the other morning when suddenly my screen was taken over by the Roadrunner from the Bugs Bunny cartoons, who is evidently the mascot at Time Warner cable and internet.  I was instructed to key in specific information and reboot the modem.  I called the on screen number to explain that I was just a tenant and had no access to said information.  The operator asked for the home telephone number of the apartment.  There is no phone there, everyone has a cell so I explained that I was just a tenant and had no access to said information.  The operator then asked for the account number associated with the apartment.  I explained that I was just a tenant and had no access to said information. The operator then asked for the last four digits of the landlord’s drivers license.  I explained that I was just a tenant and had no access to said information.  How, if I cannot ascertain the telephone number of the unit I am sitting in I would be able to conjure up the landlord’s drivers license I cannot imagine.  I also wonder if it is possible to practice mindfulness whilst releasing a volley of expletives that would curl the hair of a hardened sea captain.

I joined Jessica and her friend Lou at the beach later in the day and took my inaugural plunge into the Pacific Ocean.  It was very cold and very determined to rather violently remove my bathing suit, but it was a great experience.

That evening I popped down to Amoeba which is a fantastic record store in Hollywood reminiscent of a big, open Sam The Record Man (RIP).

They do in store concerts and Crowded House was performing.  I was somewhat dismayed to discover Neil Finn has grown a porn-stache but the band sounded great.

They mixed material from their new album in with some classics (“Locked Out” was the encore).  I slowly lost my heart to the lap steel player as he sang some truly haunting back up vocals on “Fall At Your Feet”.  All in all a good end to the day.  Perhaps I can get a handle on this mindfulness thing after all.

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