The ying to my yang

It's times like these when I wish we could just could turn around and move back down the evolution chain, strip down to our b'day suits, house ourselves in caves and pick fleas from our neighbours.
Maybe this brings with it's own stresses and inconvenient surprises, so I guess I'll stick to being a Homo sapiens and deal with those nasty little surprises.

It's Monday morning and I'm sitting in front of a borrowed computer because my recently repaired computer, with all my No Standing work, crashed again. Luckily I have learnt from previous experiences to back that sh*t up but still, occasionally, we get caught with our pants down. It's not the end of the world, only if the repair guys can't fix this again.

So yesterday, after hours of lying to myself and hoping that by some miracle this master of misery would decide to boot up, I went to Buddhist chanting meeting in St Gorges Cathedral in the city centre.
I guess I didn't know what to expect and still can't really believe what transpired. I guess the only way really to explain the experience is to read you a phrase fresh from my book. And it goes a little something like this;
"Sitting in that packed out church I've never felt so singled out. The echos pf 6 chanting monks hunted me down in that crowd like a thirst in the desert. That ever-the-same but never changing rhythm entered my consciousness through my ears and filled my spirit with a feeling of peace and inspiration. When they stopped, even the statue of the mother Mary held her breath. Silence was the only way to applaud the monks for the journey."

All the material matters just dissipated into their rhythm, a rhythm that took me away from that church and back into a my cave.