pontifical man

I surprised Melissa with a trip to the movies the other day. It wasn't the grand romantic gesture I worked it up in my mind to be but it sure did make her happy and therefore was a success. We saw Enlighten Up about a documentary director making a documentary about a young man she hand picked to be the center of an experiment to find meaning in yoga. It was mentioned in the film how it seems she should have just performed the 6-month experiment herself since it was her own diminishing faith in yoga that prompted her to devise the scheme. But she held that she wanted to see if yoga could have "transformative" effects on the uninitiated. Nick, the subject, said he had never considered yoga or any spiritual endeavor before agreeing to submit to Kate's , the director, plan.

The film seemed to come at yoga from nearly every angle people approach it from except for perhaps someone who would consider yoga offensive, if there is anybody. They did talk a little about how in India, at some point but perhaps not in modern day, people talked of Yogis as demonic wanderers who steal away children and wreak general havoc as opposed to individuals who are merely yoga enthusiasts. Other than that they explored the physical and metaphysical practices associated with yoga. Nick began as a willing skeptic and Kate as the waning believer. By the end they weren't much closer to discovering "true yoga" or a universal transformative power it might hold. The actually ended up nearly right where they began with only a greater sense of the history of yoga and a vocabulary useful in discussing its various forms. Sure it was only six months but I expected a little bit of transformation or perhaps maturing. But perhpaps this is all we can hope for. More knowledge, no wisdom. The two seekers did find they had a deeper desire for the purer things in life: family, health, quiet meditation.

I wonder if their journey's flaw was the fact that they said they were pursuing a means to be happy and fulfilled. They didn't request wisdom or even greater insight into living at peace with others. They kept wanting to find a wholeness in-and-of themselves. I suppose one could spend a lifetime pursuing wholeness in all of its manifestations and never be consumed by it because it seems to me that looking at one's own self constantly gives you the same view consistently. Perhaps if spending ourselves on everyone else and in effect being that magnanimous person of grace before we feel like we have attained what we think is required to live in such a way we will gain a truer perspective of ourselves and see G-d. I think a greater virtue than pursuing inner peace is to make peace.

Modern guilt won't get me to bed

About a week ago Melissa and I watched the award-winning movie Milk and while I viewed I ate a plate of pretzel sticks and ranch dressing. I gave practically no thought to my light snacking much like any popcorn popping movie-watcher doesn't consider the hand in the bucket and the munch in the mouth. Eating and watching a movie is mindless until tragedy strikes. Usually this tragedy takes place on the screen but of course there is the ill-fated kernel or nacho not masticated properly that winds up wedged deep and painfully in the snacker's throat. At his point is completely impossible to ignore the snack itself since it is clearly not to be overlooked without a fight.

In Milk, the true story of the first openly gay individual to be elected to major public office in the United States (for those of you who didn't already know that which I am actually quite positive any one of the half dozen people who read this knew what the movie was about so I apologize for the patronizing explanation), the protagonist is heinously murdered and the grief Melissa and I felt was enormous. Since the movie is based on actual events the ending was already clear from the outset but as any well-done movie should do it made the inevitable shocking and moving, not just expected. At the moment of Harvey Milk's assassination I could no longer eat my pretzels. Tragedy struck and I could not bring myself to indulge in another salty stick. It would only seem to cheapen the moment and show disrespect. In actuality I bet the real Harvey Milk would want me not to stop enjoying my snack on account of him but I didn't want to break the stirring silence with a seemingly rude chomping noise. When a movie is truly tender and feels quite intimate with the audience then to continue chowing down would be like slurping a milk shake at a funeral viewing and then laughing aloud at texts you are receiving. Truly uncouth. I didn't want to be that guy so the pretzel I had picked up and was nervously bringing towards my mouth found its way back into the bag from whence it came.

I was so self aware at that moment while I was also entirely lost in the throes of the film. It was a very odd sensation.

brandonpiercegeary