I’ve taken a mental vacation the past week.
I was supposed go to British Columbia to live in a First Nation resistance camp to protest against big, shitty oil companies, but APPARENTLY you can’t get a new passport in less than a week unless you pay an arm and a leg.
Instead I’ve taken a week of mental and financial recuperation.
I’ve done some hiking, a lot of yoga, meditation, cooking, cleaning, avoiding my email, binge watching Mad Men and tea drinking.
Which brings me to today.
I was in the kitchen making my second cup of green tea, specifically Yogi Tea, (they have those cute fortunes and mantras attached to tea bag, which is why I love that brand)
Anyway, I opened my teabag and it reads, “Dignity and tranquility last forever.”
I said to myself, “Well, that can’t be true.” Whoever wrote that teabag line obviously has never pissed on someone’s patio in broad daylight.
(I’m not saying I have, but I am saying that’s a pretty good way to lose your dignity.)
And they clearly have never left whatever tranquil, dignified rock they live under because nothing is LESS “forever” than tranquility. That shit’s fleeting as fuck.
Case in point: As I pondered this mantra, feeling intriguingly relaxed by the idea that my dignity MAY still be alive, I happened to glance down into my mug and spy a little beetle doing the dead man’s float.
I want to tell Yogi Tea that they should put this on their next batch of teabags:
“Dignity is like a liver. As long as you have a shred left, and you take care of that shred, it should grow back eventually.”
or maybe, “Tranquility is like a one night stand, impermanent, but a nice thing to fantasize about.”
On a side note, I drank the tea anyway. Partially because I like to live on the edge and partially because I don’t like wasting teabags.