Monday, January 28th, 2013

From Here To The Royal York And Back

Regina/Toronto

If Regina is an iceburg, then Toronto is a slushburger. From Regina’s frigid frontier, I flew into Toronto, which is commonly known as The Melting Pot (for ethnic cultural reasons), and now, perhaps, for it’s regular snow meltdown; it’s kind of messy.

Weather affects our lives all the time. When is there a day that you don’t check up either on line the forecast (the lazy way) or peer out the window (which is more honourable) or just stick your head out the window (most intelligent)? It’s likely a daily affair, like sticking your big toe in the water before going the full dip.

The lid on the eye-of-God, the sun, went shut – night time. When I decided to enter into the world of splash, catching me at the door was a couple from our neighbourhood who had just come in from outside. They indicated that it was ugly outside. I let them know that whether pretty or ugly, I go into it with a bravado.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from weather changes,” it’s don’t let it intimidate you”. I believe that those who try to shake off Mother Nature by avoiding her are the ones that get sick. Of course, the word of caution can be given to not over expose yourself to the elements and we should certainly “dress for the occasion”. I often times have to remind myself that I’m not God and do not transcend. But generally, I find people all around me getting sick while I remain immune. It’s often the same people whose immunity is not built up for a lack of a willingness to embrace nature. Let’s face it, most of us are stubbornly trapped in our boxes whether it be the home or conveyance.

And what’s with all the running on a treadmill when you can be working up a sweat outside? For much of the world’s climate it should be no problem. Some days in Regina at 30, 40, or 50 below, it’s understandable. But really, breathing in those bad human fumes from the guy next to you on a passionate pace with a tread mill, it gets pretty bad, please give me a break. I’ll stick to the sadhu, holy man’s approach. I’ll continue to go outside to breath in God’s air and feel His wind and lick His sweat with my tongue stuck out (and raindrops did fall this night).

And when a car dashes by to create a splash of slush to cover me, I’ll say to God, “Thanks for reminding me I’m not You. Thanks for the lesson in humility.”

9 KM

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