#24a - choose 4 religions, practice their traditions for a week each - Buddhism

I was really looking forward to this one.  So much of our culture and history are based on religion, I figured it was worth looking at a bit closer.  My hypothesis is this: despite seemingly vast differences, religions often have similar core values – be nice to others, be nice to yourself, be nice to the planet, and help out whenever you can.  I suspect it’s just the assholes that manipulate various writings, the bible, the qur’an etc to their advantage that makes everything fall apart and gives religion a bad rap.

In choosing my religions, I set out a bit of criteria. Do my homework, and find a guide who is practicing, and can give me some ground rules to live by for the week.

So this past week, I explored Buddhism, and learned one thing.  I am a very, very bad Buddhist.  

Really, I did try. My guide is a charming friend who is all very peace, love and zen. He meditates regularly, gets tangled up when he’s not centred, loves his yoga mat and is quick to say gentle, kind, hippie infused words. I knew immediately we’d be friends – the fact that he’s a crazy, cute Aussie has nothing to do with it, I swear. He said I’d be a great Buddhist. I’m generally a nice person, I’m usually fairly calm about stuff (he doesn’t know me so well) and I have a pretty good perspective on life.

Buddhists have 5 little rules to live by. Don’t kill anything.  Don’t steal.  Don’t lie and say mean things. No drugs and alcohol, and no kinky sex.  It would be an enormous challenge, and terribly boring, but I figured for a week I could at least try.  

Not killing anything was easy, since I was being a vegetarian anyway.  I haven’t stolen anything for weeks. (the last thing was a Christmas ornament off a tree in a Catholic school because I was ticked off at them, and the ornament was my fave shade of green. And sparkly. Couldn’t help it.)

Not lying and saying mean things… well I generally avoid lying. Sometimes I just skip over all the details.  Saying mean things, I had to restart that challenge a number of times. In an attempt to not swear, I discovered there are moments that I swear like I’ve been trained by a sailor.   A few things ticked me off during the week left me ranting in a very non-zen way.

No drugs or alcohol. Well… I tried.  I’m not so good about avoiding indulgence.

No kinky sex.   (My mother reads this. I reserve the right to remain silent)

I did a few other things to gain some buddha points. I went with my zen guide to a meditation/dharma talk one night.  It was very interesting. I learned that I cannot possibly sit still for any length of time.  I also learned that it’s easy to tell strangers personal things – in the ‘group work’ portion of the evening, I learned some (and shared some) most scandalous details with a complete stranger.  I also learned that when everyone else in the room has their eyes closed, you can look around and realize that you, the senior level civil servant, are so not as granola as you once thought you were. 

I also wore my mala beads around. 108 beads on a string, meant for meditation aiding in the repetition of mantras to guide and centre you.  They looked great with my cozy purple sweater.  Complete failure to use them for any functional purpose.

So, I’ve come to realize that while I may attempt everything on my 37 list, I may not succeed with any great style and grace. I tried. I read a bunch of stuff on Buddhism and the Dalai Lama.  I actually held my tongue when I felt something non-zen trying to escape.  I didn’t kill anything.  I challenged myself to let go of things that held me back, and embrace those that lead me to being a better person.

However I did sleep through my Sunday field trip to a Buddhist Temple.  Though, getting out of bed early on a Sunday is so not Zen. I think next I will try to be a Pagan.

#21 – Be a vegetarian for 3 weeks straight

Where’s the beef?!  A question I found myself asking more than a few times over the past three weeks. However, despite my whining, mad cravings for chicken wings, and a ridiculous amount of salad, I’m quite pleased to say I’ve survived this task. Not only did I survive, I’ve gained an appreciation for chick peas, and will likely implement them into my regular feeding schedule.

I was often asked why I had chosen this particular task. There are oodles of reasons, starting with being nicer to chickens and ending with being gentler to the planet. Mostly, I just don’t think that the amount of resources depleted just so I could have a burger is responsible behaviour.   My inner hippie was unsettled.

That being said, I also believe I am a carnivore at heart. There is something primal about me that likes to sink my teeth into a bit of beast. I have sharp pointy teeth for a reason.  When the miles pile up during my half marathon training, the amount of meat my body demands is grotesque. 

So, I’ll opt for a healthy balance. Non-training days will have a much higher ratio of chickpeas to even out the livestock slaughtered on my behalf.

I did find it challenging. Mostly because I think a major diet change needs a bit of planning and organizing. Browsing new recipes, chatting with veggie friends about their tricks, and buying groceries. My life spins so quickly, I seldom know where I'll be five minutes from now, so these things don't always work. I landed at a friend's place for dinner, then broke the news to him gently as he pulled out two pieces of salmon. I browsed pages and pages of menus searching for something veggie that was not "sauteed vegetables over steamed rice".  I had toast and peanut butter for dinner more than once, simply because I can't plan ahead.  

A number of interesting questions presented themselves during this little experiment.  A foody friend tackled #21 with me, and pondered whether veggies cooked along side a roast beef were fair game, as they were swimming in mouth-watering cow juice.  There was also discussion about seafood, such as fish, oysters or clams… my rule was that if it had a face and parents, it was out of bounds. But do clams have a face?  I hope not… because I also had two  delectable Caesars during the weeks. Perhaps they just squeezed the clams gently to make the clamato juice, and lovingly put them back into the ocean?  

#3 Karaoke

By far the toughest one tackled on my list so far. Not just tough, absolutely terrifying. Like wake up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night trembling and whimpering, simply knowing this was coming sort of terrifying. I'm not sure who threw this one on the list, but I will find them...

Let me offer some context. Yes, I know I do some wacky and foolish things. There are stunts that I have pulled off that really could have ended badly, a number of them including large wild animals with sharp teeth. I've been told both - that I am brave, and that I am nuts. So karaoke, shouldn't be much of a stretch, right? Oh so wrong. Public humiliation isn't my thing. I am a terrible singer. I know that dogs within blocks of me last night were the ones waking up in sheer terror. I only sing in my car, and I'm quite sure the beloved Jetta committed suicide just to get away from my attempts to carry a tune.

But, I have this silly list, and apparently I'm stubborn about it. So, when I heard of an upcoming karaoke party, I had to dive in.  My trick for following through on stupid shit is to tell people I am going to do it. I've had great advice, ranging from 'get really drunk, and wait till everyone else is too' to 'pick a song that no one could ever possible do well, and just embrace the awful.' Whitney Houston's I Will Always Love You was nominated.

The party was in an ideal setting. A small town, very very far away. The audience was compiled of two sets of people - my family that has to love me anyway, and a bunch of strangers who I will likely never see again, or if I do, they will likely be just as drunk. Binders and lists of songs were passed around. I had it whittled down to either a Neil Diamond or Dusty Springfield number.  (at this point, I should also mention that this was an 80s themed party, which I fully embraced. Apparently out of 100+ people, only myself and a few others actually got the memo. Still, my crimped side ponytail was very sexy.)

Then suddenly, horror of horrors, a tune started up, one that the Jetta happened to know quite well. My lovely aunt Leesa in full cheerleader mode somehow convinced me (or was it the rye?) that we needed to go up and sing together. It's all a bit of a blur from here... but I did manage to sing on stage for about a minute before the oh so clever karaoke lady caught on that my microphone had been switched off.  (oops?) They made me switch it on, and instantly the unfortunate crowd was privy to my cringe-worthy vocals. They will never again hear Margaritaville without shuddering. Thank goodness Leesa has a brilliant voice and nailed all the high bits for us.

But I survived. More than that... I was later spotted on stage singing a little ditty by Def Leopard. Something about sugar. Oh that bloody rye.



 

#2b - 6 New Fruits and Veggies - Prickly Pear

So, I must start this one with a disclaimer. I'm not actually certain that what I ate is in fact a prickly pear. But someone on facebook suggested it might be, and goodness knows that if it's on facebook, it must be true.

Prickly Pear: I am not impressed. While the colours are pretty, the outside was a limey greenish yellow that I adore, and the inside was that shade of pink that I seem to try to turn everything at work (they let me be the brand police, so I can somehow justify it), the fruit itself failed to dazzle me. 

It comes by its suspected name honestly. You know when you get those little invisible slivers that hurt like a mofo? This lovely fruit is covered in them. Then, when you delicately slice it open, it's filled with seeds, like a watermelon. To eat, or not eat the seeds? For all the effort involved, you would hope that it at least tastes delicious. No such luck, it's rather bland.

Sorry prickly pear, ours will be a short-lived affair.

#12 Master a line dancing routine

Ok, this one might be a bit of a cheat, but given that it took five weeks to accomplish, I think I will count it anyway. 

Piggy backing on my #20 Bollywood Dancing episode, my trusty sidekick Rhonda and I signed up for a full session of bollywood dance classes, against any good sense.  A very small handful of women, willing to convulse their body around in a room with giant mirrors to some very foreign music.  There were a few collisions, and much laughter as we tried to perfect the routine.  We would flail about, shaking parts of our bodies that would continue to jiggle long after the rest of us stopped moving. This is not an undertaking for the faint of heart, nor for those with any hope of building even a stitch of self esteem.

As our lessons wound to a close, after hearing the same song over and over again for hours while we attempted to make our bodies resemble even a bit of what our teacher was so gracefully, effortlessly doing, I braved a question. "Just what is this song about?"  It turns out, we had been training for weeks to emulate a prostitute who was performing at a party. So, while I shouldn't be, I am proud to say that I can now dance like an Indian hooker.  I just knew 37 was going to be an interesting year.