While My Cello Gently Weeps
I been having a go lately at consciously changing my thoughts towards more positive things, but it's not easy. I have had the (dis)advantage of a substantial education and labour under a terrible addiction: Information. As much as I know that reading the news, surfing the net or watching tv will only give me more information to deal with, I cannot help myself. This has led me to a terrible state of anxiety over choice.
Those who watch the Sopranos* might find AJ's behaviour of the last season annoying, but I sympathise very much with the "everything's going hell so why bother" mindset. I mean, how can a few fluoro bulbs and catching the bus to work compete against China opening a new coal power plant every week?! Buying eggs almost sent me into palpations the other day. I could find eggs from happy chickens that got to run around in green fields, and I could find eggs from chickens that weren't fed other chickens. But do you think I could find eggs from frolicking chickens that didn't have to eat other chickens? NO! So I had the agonising choice of condoning battery hen farms or risking mad-chicken disease some day**.
And buying a coffee?! Paper cups from dying trees, Styrofoam poisons the earth and our bodies. Are the beans fair-trade? Was the soil organic? Does the cafe treat it's employees fairly? Is it owned by some terrible multinational corporation that sells cigarettes, arms and Celine Dion albums? These are demons I wrangle with for every choice of my adult life.
But I am rallying my thoughts for a full-frontal assault on despair. It's not easy, my brain has had a mind of its own for far to long, and my ability to control thoughts is weak. But I will be training up the neurons. To this end, I am announcing a new series to my blog: Why I like being human.
Next time on Shanathalas: "Why I Like Being Human Part 1: Music".
*Having seen the last episode I can't decide whether I absolutely hate it or if it was absolutely brilliant.
** I chose the Free-Range; I hope the happy little chook thinks of me when my brain goes to mush!
Those who watch the Sopranos* might find AJ's behaviour of the last season annoying, but I sympathise very much with the "everything's going hell so why bother" mindset. I mean, how can a few fluoro bulbs and catching the bus to work compete against China opening a new coal power plant every week?! Buying eggs almost sent me into palpations the other day. I could find eggs from happy chickens that got to run around in green fields, and I could find eggs from chickens that weren't fed other chickens. But do you think I could find eggs from frolicking chickens that didn't have to eat other chickens? NO! So I had the agonising choice of condoning battery hen farms or risking mad-chicken disease some day**.
And buying a coffee?! Paper cups from dying trees, Styrofoam poisons the earth and our bodies. Are the beans fair-trade? Was the soil organic? Does the cafe treat it's employees fairly? Is it owned by some terrible multinational corporation that sells cigarettes, arms and Celine Dion albums? These are demons I wrangle with for every choice of my adult life.
But I am rallying my thoughts for a full-frontal assault on despair. It's not easy, my brain has had a mind of its own for far to long, and my ability to control thoughts is weak. But I will be training up the neurons. To this end, I am announcing a new series to my blog: Why I like being human.
Next time on Shanathalas: "Why I Like Being Human Part 1: Music".
*Having seen the last episode I can't decide whether I absolutely hate it or if it was absolutely brilliant.
** I chose the Free-Range; I hope the happy little chook thinks of me when my brain goes to mush!
When I get really down about the state of the world I try to think of what people worried about 20-30 years ago - I mean look at the 60s 70s - people worried that there would be nuclear war and that didn't happen then. I'm not saying to be complacent but more that all generations have worries about the end of the world and everything being gone to pot, and their worries were as real to them as they were to us, but they survived and we can too...