Yesterday I smashed our car.
Oh, it could have been when I was having one my bottled-up, rage-filled moments, which seem to be occurring more frequently of late as I try to cope with all the crap happening to us right now. I’m in the red of stress a lot of the time with my jumble of nerves pulled tight.
So what’s that have to do with Chanting and Cursing? I appreciate the indulgence of you reading this far, as I am getting to that. And if you aren’t reading this far, to hell with you.
Anyway, so today I went to the Post Office and then to the store. And of course it was raining, which didn’t put me in the best of moods to tackle those chores. Usually I deal with my less than best of moods by yelling at the vermin drivers, cursing at them, gesturing at them, and asking rhetorical questions to them, like:
Are you waiting for permission, or what?
You know it’s not going to get any greener, don’t you?
What the fuck are you waiting for?
But today, starting with my initial getting into the car and starting to curse the weather, I chanted instead: Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
Literally in a forced change of wordage: Goddam fucking wea-Nam-myoho-renge-kyo (NMRK).
I chanted NMRK all the way to the post office. I treated the clerk with respect and she treated me likewise. I chanted to the store as well. Oh, I had my moments along the way where I started to let a Fuck or Asshole out, but I caught myself and said NMRK even louder, trying to keep my mind from falling into the negative space that draws me.
I should say right now, I’m not much of a religious person.
There’s just too much evil in the world that’s been committed in the dogmatic name of God, Ideology or Faith for me to generally have a high opinion of such things. I also can’t just believe something as my naturally philosophically critical circuits aren’t wired that way. Some religions I can appreciate more than others, but belief itself is more my husband’s bailiwick.
Rituals in general seem more geared towards promoting the self-proclaimed elite rather than promoting the humanity of humanity.
I’m Buddhist more by marriage than by firm conviction, though Buddhism is one of the appreciated religions I mentioned above. A lot of the basic ideas and values of it make sense to me; more so than, say, a cross, seventy-two virgins, or circumcision. But the chanting — praying — of it is difficult for me take with the seriousness that the truly devout — like my husband — do.
Still, I’m of a somewhat pragmatic bent. So chanting in the car is one of the ways I’m trying to improve the way I handle stress, anger, frustration, and life sucking more than I would prefer. For we all know that familiar Einstein quote that is easy to remember but difficult to put into practice:
Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is insanity.
Cursing sure as shit hasn’t done me much good. I’m generally as angry after the curse as before it. So why the hell do I do it? Damned if I know. But I’m trying like a motherfucker to change that god-awful habit of mine.