Blog Dis
Reflections of indulgence
2025-06-26
Our individuality affords us with a unique character — never two persons alike (notwithstanding identical twins tho' not necessarily identical in personality). Individuality creates a signature that is intrinsically identifiable to each of us. We don’t all dress the same because we all don't think the same, speak the same, nor do we care about the same things. Some things that matter are universal, such as the desire to live, to thrive, to survive illness or loss, and to avoid tornadoes, hurricanes and earthquakes — a range of calamities that affect each of us in different ways. It's safe to state that most of us are passionate about our lives, wanting more of the good things and less of the bad. I'm grossly generalizing here and I trust you can agree that we are, for the most part, on the same page when it comes to being passionate about our lives.
And so... when the top of the freshly churned milk is skimmed and the general points of matter are taken away, we're left with our individual quirks, which are a reflection of ourselves, our desires or as some might regard these as indulgences. What matters to me are what I'd consider to be the concrete items: what I can touch, taste, hear and see, like the importance of a good bed and clean sheets. I'm a tad too particular on how a home should be maintained. I live in it which means I have to cope with pollutants from outdoors, so when at home, I want my living space to be clean of dust bunnies and clutter, the countertops to be clear, the bed to be made each day. I spend time to present myself in reasonably good shape, not perfectly fit, nor dressed to kill, rather than being dressed in a potato sack. When I feel physically strong and presentable, my confidence is stronger.
Good food falls in the category of concrete, and this includes the obvious choices of fresh drinking water and occasionally, a glass of red wine. Rarely, will I drop $100 on a bottle of red, unless it's a special milestone birthday, such as I did when I had turned the Big Nifty, glugging with a select group of friends three rare bottles collectively valued at $1,500 — positively delicious. These aforementioned items I've just listed will seem trivial to some and important to others. It all depends on your income tax bracket and the amount of disposable income you've got available to afford luxuries, these indulgences that I regard as concrete.
Finally, and of greatest importance is family, friends, and fur babies — the kind of heart beats who make you laugh and fill you with love. The quality of your relationship with said people and fur-babies may appear on the surface as immaterial, rather than concrete, but in fact they are a concrete element in your life because you can feel, hear, touch and taste people and fur-babies, just like some of my friends who kiss their dogs on the mouth. We each have our own list, suited to our natures, our individuality. Mine is short and yours might include a sailboat, a pair of beloved hockey skates, or for many a set of golf clubs that cost top-dollar, all of which may be worth every penny. My bike would fall into this category too. I own only one, a German made CUBE bike, unlike some bike enthusiasts who own several.
The immaterial is the dicey stuff, what makes up your wish list of the things you'd like to have in life precisely at the moment when you want or need it, like a patient listener, willing to endure hearing your gripes and why life seems determined to disappoint you on occasion. The immaterial includes characteristics like integrity and honour, being able to count on the reactions and behaviour of some individuals without having to point out to them how and why you need their support. The immaterial refers to perception and reflection, being able to forgive past deeds done wrong to you or opening one’s mind to new and challenging concepts. These immaterial items also matter to me greatly and are vitally important to my happiness as much as are the concrete things in life — both compete with one another. My list will never be complete. We change as we age. If I spent the entire day I could draw up a new list to coincide with my ever-changing moods. Suffice it to say, I've scratched the surface and, as you read this wee ditty, your peculiar list has by chance scrolled thru your head.
However, and when it comes to Fridays, what matters most, above the pile heap of most, is the clock — for when the work-clock strikes end of day, telling me it's time to high-tail it out, to begin activities dearest to my personal life, rather than adhere to a work schedule and its demands... well, my friends this is essentially what it means to focus on the concrete items and actions in our lives: what matters to me most and what matters to you.
A well-known Billionaire made an online remark recently that if you're pining for Friday, it means you're not free, rather than being free to chase your dream which represents freedom. My first reaction was to become flippant, to think, "Yeah right." Then my logical brain superseded my emotional brain, to realize that Billionaire's are the least free persons on the planet. They rarely, if ever, can shut off their brains which are focused 24/7 on work and deals, cutting new deals, making more money, chasing down money that was either stolen or taken underneath their noses, all the while telling themselves they're free. Sure, sure a Billionaire can afford pretty much what they want and when they want it but 'things' will only take you so far, until you step back to review the quality of your life, to understand what it means to have to constantly protect yourself from people coming after your money.
Those with the least are maybe the only free people in this world.
Siddhartha Gautama, who eventually became known as Buddha, never wanted more than what could be held inside his one possession — a bowl, large enough to hold a serving of rice-milk pudding. The story goes that after years of extreme fasting, a woman named Sujata offered Siddhartha a bowl of rice-milk pudding, as he was on the brink of death. In accepting her offering it became the turning point in his quest for enlightenment, to realize that extreme asceticism, which is to say a form of self-discipline, would avoid all forms of indulgence.
And to this I say that your individuality reflects your indulgences, and these indulgences form the dividing line between what is concrete or immaterial. Some of us can afford virtually anything, while the balance of us can only afford what we need most, the concrete. Whereas, the immaterial is what we strive for, hope for, knowing it may remain out of our reach.
I leave the rest up to you. Next week I'll be unwinding with a few vacation days, so I won't be uploading any new posts during this time. I will indulge. I will reflect. And then I may indulge a little more. I've earned it.
And so... when the top of the freshly churned milk is skimmed and the general points of matter are taken away, we're left with our individual quirks, which are a reflection of ourselves, our desires or as some might regard these as indulgences. What matters to me are what I'd consider to be the concrete items: what I can touch, taste, hear and see, like the importance of a good bed and clean sheets. I'm a tad too particular on how a home should be maintained. I live in it which means I have to cope with pollutants from outdoors, so when at home, I want my living space to be clean of dust bunnies and clutter, the countertops to be clear, the bed to be made each day. I spend time to present myself in reasonably good shape, not perfectly fit, nor dressed to kill, rather than being dressed in a potato sack. When I feel physically strong and presentable, my confidence is stronger.
Good food falls in the category of concrete, and this includes the obvious choices of fresh drinking water and occasionally, a glass of red wine. Rarely, will I drop $100 on a bottle of red, unless it's a special milestone birthday, such as I did when I had turned the Big Nifty, glugging with a select group of friends three rare bottles collectively valued at $1,500 — positively delicious. These aforementioned items I've just listed will seem trivial to some and important to others. It all depends on your income tax bracket and the amount of disposable income you've got available to afford luxuries, these indulgences that I regard as concrete.
Finally, and of greatest importance is family, friends, and fur babies — the kind of heart beats who make you laugh and fill you with love. The quality of your relationship with said people and fur-babies may appear on the surface as immaterial, rather than concrete, but in fact they are a concrete element in your life because you can feel, hear, touch and taste people and fur-babies, just like some of my friends who kiss their dogs on the mouth. We each have our own list, suited to our natures, our individuality. Mine is short and yours might include a sailboat, a pair of beloved hockey skates, or for many a set of golf clubs that cost top-dollar, all of which may be worth every penny. My bike would fall into this category too. I own only one, a German made CUBE bike, unlike some bike enthusiasts who own several.
The immaterial is the dicey stuff, what makes up your wish list of the things you'd like to have in life precisely at the moment when you want or need it, like a patient listener, willing to endure hearing your gripes and why life seems determined to disappoint you on occasion. The immaterial includes characteristics like integrity and honour, being able to count on the reactions and behaviour of some individuals without having to point out to them how and why you need their support. The immaterial refers to perception and reflection, being able to forgive past deeds done wrong to you or opening one’s mind to new and challenging concepts. These immaterial items also matter to me greatly and are vitally important to my happiness as much as are the concrete things in life — both compete with one another. My list will never be complete. We change as we age. If I spent the entire day I could draw up a new list to coincide with my ever-changing moods. Suffice it to say, I've scratched the surface and, as you read this wee ditty, your peculiar list has by chance scrolled thru your head.
However, and when it comes to Fridays, what matters most, above the pile heap of most, is the clock — for when the work-clock strikes end of day, telling me it's time to high-tail it out, to begin activities dearest to my personal life, rather than adhere to a work schedule and its demands... well, my friends this is essentially what it means to focus on the concrete items and actions in our lives: what matters to me most and what matters to you.
A well-known Billionaire made an online remark recently that if you're pining for Friday, it means you're not free, rather than being free to chase your dream which represents freedom. My first reaction was to become flippant, to think, "Yeah right." Then my logical brain superseded my emotional brain, to realize that Billionaire's are the least free persons on the planet. They rarely, if ever, can shut off their brains which are focused 24/7 on work and deals, cutting new deals, making more money, chasing down money that was either stolen or taken underneath their noses, all the while telling themselves they're free. Sure, sure a Billionaire can afford pretty much what they want and when they want it but 'things' will only take you so far, until you step back to review the quality of your life, to understand what it means to have to constantly protect yourself from people coming after your money.
Those with the least are maybe the only free people in this world.
Siddhartha Gautama, who eventually became known as Buddha, never wanted more than what could be held inside his one possession — a bowl, large enough to hold a serving of rice-milk pudding. The story goes that after years of extreme fasting, a woman named Sujata offered Siddhartha a bowl of rice-milk pudding, as he was on the brink of death. In accepting her offering it became the turning point in his quest for enlightenment, to realize that extreme asceticism, which is to say a form of self-discipline, would avoid all forms of indulgence.
And to this I say that your individuality reflects your indulgences, and these indulgences form the dividing line between what is concrete or immaterial. Some of us can afford virtually anything, while the balance of us can only afford what we need most, the concrete. Whereas, the immaterial is what we strive for, hope for, knowing it may remain out of our reach.
I leave the rest up to you. Next week I'll be unwinding with a few vacation days, so I won't be uploading any new posts during this time. I will indulge. I will reflect. And then I may indulge a little more. I've earned it.
