My Modest Shabbat

And on the seventh day God ended his work ... and he rested ... from all his work ...

Genesis 2:2, KJV

I remember when I was young and it was verboten in our house to turn on the TV on Sunday. I remember our religion involving a lot of nots. We did not gamble, smoke, drink, dance, go to movies, or go to amusement parks. The nots included certain Sunday prohibitions, including TV and sporting activities.

There was one Sunday afternoon when I went to a local park just to throw a football around with the friend. My father saw me participating in this fiendish behaviour on his way to church late that afternoon and crossed the field in his suit and tie in order to reprimand me. I remember telling my friend that I had to go. I wasn't particularly upset, but I didn't really buy into the belief structure either.

When I was a little older, it became time to begin rejecting some of these nots, and while I was never particularly rebellious, when I finally did happen to venture into an amusement park, I found that I rather enjoyed myself, didn't feel that I was stepping into evil or into the devil's clutches, and I was quite content to return periodically. Of course, I was suitably dressed down for partaking in these "worldly activities" ... but I knew that they weren't really worldly, so it didn't bother me a whole lot. In other ways, I maintained the faith that I had received.

Sometimes, perhaps, we throw the baby out with the bathwater, however. I am beginning to think that the intrinsic idea of taking a day or rest and reflection is rather a good one.

Today, I felt in need of rest. We have been on two bike rides in the heat in the last two days and certainly extended ourselves on yesterday's foray. We so exerted ourselves that upon our return, my shirt was so weighted with perspiration that it seemed to weigh the best part of twenty pounds when I unstuck it from my skin and peeled it slowly over my head. Then, for much of the remainder of the day, we resumed our shifting, sorting, and packing; we have been doing rather a lot of that lately. It short, we were a tired couple today.

So, it was time for a change. We sipped coffee by the bay this morning, went to the library, read the paper, read blogs, and generally did little that resembled work or any sort vigorous activity that would normally be labelled as productive. It felt good, however. It seemed to be what our bodies and spirits craved.

It's not Sunday; it's the Jewish Sabbath or Shabbat. I did not observe the day strictly, of course. I simply rested from the kinds of activities that had left me drained. And it felt good.

Maybe this is an idea to which we should return: not in a legalistic way but with the intention of restoring our bodies, minds, and spirits. I wonder how Sunday was allowed to become the official sports day? And why must all stores open? There are so many enticements that we forget to fill up our souls in whatever way that might be meaningful to us. We go on and on like this, but it seems to me that we really should get off the merry-go-round periodically, and once per week seems like a worthily benchmark to me.

Unless it is part of your spiritual practice, I don't think Sunday has to be your chosen day of rest. It could be Saturday or any other day that works into your schedule and lifestyle. I think it would do many of us good, however, to celebrate our own Shabbat, or day of rest.

"Guarding Shabbat mean adhering to the myriad restrictions imposed by Jewish law that ensure that you will not work. This represents the passive aspect of Shabbat — refraining from work. "Remembering Shabbat, by contrast, means taking positive actions to increase the joy and peacefulness of your life.

Jewish Ritual, Olitsky and Judson

 

Major Disappointment

This morning when I got up, I spotted the most promising note on the kitchen table. It was one of the yellow sticky notes. It said, "Turn AC on."

Of course, I thought that I was in luck.

However, both breakfast and the morning came and went without a scintilla of seductivity directed towards yours truly. No rolling of the shoulders, no waving of the hips, no batting of the eye lashes, no hint of the delight that was sure to be mine before the day was done.

No afternoon delight either.

And no special dessert following supper.

Bedtime: I am primed, grinning from ear to ear.

Says I, "So, hunny bunny are you ready to turn AC on?"

Cuppa gets up and turns on the air conditioning.

Groaned I, "Oh, that AC!"

Now that's one major disappointment!!

 

Colonel Torpidity

It is a well known fact that General Lassitude had a cousin in the northern army who rose to greater ranks. His name was Colonel Torpidity. By all accounts the Colonel was a brilliant tactician or would have been if he could have shaken off his lethargy. Alas, the enemy surprised him at nap time around ten o'clock in the morning one day and shot him while he was trying to suppress a yawn as he supinely cradled his favourite teddy bear.

Anyway, this old and odd couple, known as Anvilcloud and Cuppa, is getting a trifle weary of packing boxes, making daily trips to Goodwill to donate usable discards, filling boxes with recycling, and filling garbage bags with ... well, with garbage of course ... or trash, which I understand is the preferred word south of the border. And is it rubbish in the UK? Can't remember.

Tomorrow, which will be today (Thursday) for most of you, we are determined to put ourselves first and get out on the bikes, weather permitting. If we go in the morning (mind you, like the good Colonel and his cousin General Lassitude, I am not a morning person), we should beat the heat, which has been rather torrid lately — in the mid-thirties celsius or mid-nineties Fahrenheit. Those temperatures may well be namby pamby stuff for many of you hot-weather Murkins, but it puts us poor Canuckleheads in mind of what hell must be like when Lucifer is feeling particularly peckish. If it rains, which is a possibility, all bets are off. We'll continue to pack, but our mental health will deteriorate significantly or at least it would if it were room for any further deterioration.

So, what with heat and packing and all, I haven't done well with blog-commenting lately. I just now read a bunch of your wonderful blogs and only managed one brief three-word comment on one, solitary blog. I am reading, folks, but I find myself staring vapidly at the comment section before moving on groggily.

However, I did come across this rather useful site for those who are interested in digital photography. It's a basic Digital SLR overview offered by Canon. Chances are that if you own a digital SLR, you already know this stuff, but review never hurts, and you might also appreciate the way that it is put together. I think it would be suitable for non-SLR shutterbugs as long as you have an SLR-like camera with some advanced features. Click to explore.

 

General Lassitude

I am suffering from the same complaint as that southern general. His name was Lassitude, and I am suffering from the state of ennui that was surely named in honour of the great, aforementioned general. Indeed, I am in a state of General Lassitude, even though I am in the province of Ontario. We don't generally have states here, just provinces, but it just doesn't work for me to confess that I am in a such a province.

Well, let me show you: I'm in a province of General Lassitude folks. You see? Perhaps it was because the good general who is renown for never losing a battle that he was able to get around to attending was American, although I swear that most of you refer to as Murka and to yourselves as Murkins. Be careful there, that's getting close to murky, and we Canadians like to look upon murkiness as our bailiwick although the Brits what with their Old bailey and all seem to believe all bailiwicks theirs. I don't think they have a General Bailiwick, however.

It happened this morning, this feeling of being as useless as a dead southern general who never won a battle ... nor lost one for that matter. I could not face manufacturing a serious blog. London, terrorists, African poverty, the state of America (oops, Murka), environmental degradation — nothing clicked. Nor did I feel like being religiously or political controversial. Thanks heavens for small mercies, eh you little bloglodites.

I contemplated my blogging ennui off and on throughout the day. Then, it struck me. It's summer! That in and of itself seems hardly revelatory, but it brought to mind that I was repeating a pattern: to wit, losing some interest in computerdumb in the summer. Not a complete loss of interest but a partial waning. In the past, this might have worried me, but I am now used to the pattern because I know that my interest will revive in September, and I almost feel comforted to have Ennui find me again. A say 'again' because last summer the usual pattern did not strongly recur. Therefore, it took me a while to recognize the old general when he resurfaced to reclaim its own this summer.

That means that I'm okay. It means I'll be back on track come September. I am already contemplating CSS and Photoshop books to order for the fall and perhaps taking a few courses too. Until then, I'll blog a bit, but I won't get too worried when watching the sparrows fly in and out of their house seems like a more worthwhile use of time.

 

Shake Those Tail Feathers

Poverty, war, terrorism. We need a break! I hope this little offering provides at least a little breather from the world's troubles for you, dear reader.

Back in May, I posted a photo of these same two birds (I trust), sitting on this same birdhouse. Apparently, they moved in sometime in our long, June absence. I can see straw inside, and at dusk, I can see the feathers of a at least one sparrow, hunkering down for the night.

I took the picture of Daddy sparrow, and then tried to move closer. He moved off in some alarm and, evidently, signalled the imminence of grave danger to Mama sparrow. She popped her head out forthwith, and they flew off together, barely affording me enough time to snap her picture.

When I say that they have set up housekeeping, I'm not kidding. They are so comfy in their digs that I caught them doing The Big Naughty right on their front porch. I thinks that's simply scandalous, and I told them so in no uncertain terms. Then, they did it again.

In retrospect, I must commend both their quick restoration time and their joie de vivre. I have frequently been called a birdbrain, and I say, bring it on!

 

Courageous and Inspirational Brits

There is nothing much that I can add to the day's sad events in London. It's all being said elsewhere better than I could ever hope to say it. I grieve with you Brits, but let me say that I am also so impressed by you. The calm, aplomb and grace by which you carry yourselves at such a time is truly amazing and inspirational. Sometimes when I read or watch British mysteries, I often think that I am a Brit at heart, and with my lineage that's not much of a stretch. Well, my heart is certainly with you today.

 

C'mon, Be Brave

In the spirit of continuing adventure, I have posted a back comment as a reply to other comments on my last post about Poverty in Africa. Some people have commented that they sometimes reply by email, and I have been known to do that too. Unfortunately, some of you hide your email addresses with great diligence. Read on, ye of the lily livers.

Seriously, well somewhat seriously, back in February, I posted that I was going to try posting a email link on my sidebar. At the same time, I activated my email address on my profile page. In that blog, Email Trial, I referred you to a page that would concoct a script that should do a pretty good job of hiding your address from probing bots.

Well, it's worked for me. That public address receives no sp*m. Zilch. Nada. Oddly enough, the address from which I write to people does receive a bit of sp*m. The odd thing about that is that I have never published that address anywhere. It has been harvested from someone's computer. Oh yes!

So, why not get all brave and try the script and post an address? If you do get sp**med, cancel that account and curse that %$#@ Anvilcloud.

I have lots of gmail invitations. If you need a disposable account, write to me. The link to my address is posted for all to see. Oh, I am sooo brave.