Ben Writes the Last Part

2/26/2010 12:26 PM – 12:44 PM

I shoveled snow for two hours last night. Shoveled snow and then salted. When I got back to the place where I started, it needed to be shoveled again. I clocked out and went home. When I got home, I did my cool-down routine, stretching. Yesterday was a lifting day. It had just gotten to the point where I could feel only a little tenderness the day after.

My body now is a series of long, broad aches. I am not, however, incapacitated. The achiest bits are my hips which is a result of sleeping in my bed for ten hours. Crappy mattress, but it’s betting than nothing and, provided I don’t sleep more than eight hours, it usually works fine. I woke up about an hour ago. I drank coffee, smoked and went poo. Then I sat and then I was here. The sit went well. I read in one of the billions of Zen books that I used to read about a guy that wasn’t given any instructions. He was just told to sit on the floor, look at the wall and not say anything for thirty minutes.

He ended up being one of those guys that get Zen equivalent of a black belt. I’ve read lots of books by those guys. Don’t think a whole lot of the thing. I don’t know if you really can learn anything by sitting and trying to just sit. Feels good though. Calm and strong. Okay. Okay is good. I keep drifting off here as I’m typing. I have to go to work in an hour and I’m just writing. Ben just came in. I guess I’m done.

Writing a letter to my future self. Your body now is nothing but muscle. That’s the good news. The bad news is: it’s destroyed the world. Everyone is dead. Even you. Unless you’re reading this. Then you’re our only hope. Our fate is in your hands, dude. Our fate is in your hands. End transmission.