Contemplative Sunday

For breakfast I made my big bowl of boiled oats, and raisins, and flaxseeds. At first the taste of flaxseeds on my oatmeal tasted weird, but I actually grew accustomed to it, and like the unique flavor mixed with the raisins.

Still endeavored to change more of my life – and in this case, my hoarding of clothes which greatly clutters my already small apartment – I started pitching away clothes I have not worn in years.

Why do I save so much? Well, I remember visiting Grandparents, and Great Aunts and Uncles and loving going through their stuff in the attic. For some bizarre reason, I feel that clothes from my past are something to hold onto – especially T-shirts and sweatshirts with logos from college, and sporting teams. Well, I still saved those. But I started purging my closet and chests, and under my bed of tons of clothes, some more than 12 years old.

I just want a cleaner start for this new endeavor. As my vegan quest comes to a close I am thinking more of how I will live my new life and not even thinking about doing cartwheels because I can eat a porterhouse steak again.

It is cathartic to eliminate the things that add to clutter in your life, and yes, clean closets and drawers, and not having piles of clothes on top of already bulging bureaus scraping your ceiling adds a sense of freedom.

Three giant bags going to charity later, I am quite satisfied with this weekend of purging! Because I am going to have to take my suit jackets in I decided to pitch some sport jackets – even ones that I have worn just this week. It is sad in a way, those sport jackets which were torn around the inside chest pocket, lining frayed, and holes in the side pockets where I hid cigars from a disapproving girlfriend years ago, well, they served me well, and it was a bit sad to say goodbye. I guess I will have to rely only on memories, and when I bounce my Grandchild on my knee and tell him stories about my sport jacket, there will be no attic to dig it up for show and tell.

It was an introspective weekend for me, and I watched two biographical documentaries about two men who could not be farther apart, but share a common problem – they never knew moderation. Sounded familiar to me, so I watched, and nodded my head. The first was about the great tenor, Opera sensation, and movie star of the 40’s and 50’s Mario Lanza who, according to an old pal, had a “voracious appetite for food, women, and wine.” He died at 38 years old of heart failure. I can go on for pages about having the aria Vesti la giubba run through my head at different times in my life.

The other bio, and on the opposite end of the spectrum, was Joe Strummer lead singer of the classic punk band, The Clash. He also had a voracious appetite for women, and wine, and 100 other things. He died of heart failure at 50.

Both were geniuses in the respective field of music, though I would be hard pressed to convince my parents (big Lanza fans) that The Clash constituted “music.”

But what struck me about these two men was that they both filled self-perceived tortured gaps in their lives, at the height of worldwide fame and fortune, with drinking, or eating, or drugs. I found both lives fascinating.

For lunch today I put a couple of whole wheat tortillas in the oven, and then covered them with left over humus and black beans. For a simple meal, it was very good.

12 Days Left!!