“Men govern nothing with more difficulty than their tongues, and can moderate their desires more than their words”
-- Spinoza
As I get older, I seem to get a lot more lackadasical about communication, but these things come in phases for everyone, and I know my friends and family are aware I love them even if we don't speak as often as we used to, and that I'll get in touch again eventually. However, I'm a little ashamed to admit I've been blowing off birthday parties without a phone call, that sort of thing lately. In fact, I haven't seen my phone in days-- I think it may have gotten lost in the move, which means I can be M.I.A. without being rude, but only for a little longer. Lately I don't miss or desire socializing outside work and errands whatsoever, but I'll have to be careful not be too much of a hermit.
It must be the effects of winter and/or the Lenten season, or maybe I'm just adjusting to the fun, horror and fascination of being a stripper.
This time of year I always think of Christ in the desert, fasting and purifying himself for his coming trials. By intrinsic inclination and custom as a Protestant, I don't venerate Saints, but I often find inspiration in re-reading "Lives of the Saints" around this time of year. Although the "holy" men and women who indulged in voluntary mortification of the body strike me as having severely missed the mark, every time I read the story of St. Francis or Bernadette I feel renewed in spirit on an idealistic level. Transcending, rather than giving free rein to, the grossest and most indulgent demands of the flesh seems to be one of the key ingredients to a Virtuous life. I don't want to learn how to manipulate the material world to my advantage by adapting to its vagaries. I don't even believe such a thing is possible. The only thing to do is use prayer as an anchor and foundation and project one's inner world outward.
Funny how I spend so much time thinking thoughts like this, have been born again a few times and still can't seem to stay away from the sex industry. Obviously my intellectual machinations and physical being are barriers in this instance, rather than catalysts for further spiritual growth. My flesh itself yields no insight, that's for sure, although I've found I become more radiant the less I let my own brutish animal instincts run the show. Believe it or not.
I need to find a partner with whom to pray/meditate. I think my blonde friend down the block would be into it.
I am considering taking an informal vow of silence until Easter outside work, which I was able to do with a fair amount of success in 8th grade. Maybe I can do it again.
Most words are wasted, anyway. A touch, a prayer, a vow, a simple explanation-- all of these things can be sacred, profane, or inconsequential, depending on the context.
I might make more money at work if I talk less, anyhow. I seriously doubt most men come in to a strip club to have a meaningful conversation, right?
