The Church of Pugilism was thoroughly uninspiring this Sunday. I showed up, sure, but honestly, my heart wasn't in it. And I was moving sloooooooowly. The languid pace of my punches strikingly discordant with the rapid thump thump of the music around me. "Dragging ass", I believe, is the technical term for my behavior. Nonetheless, I went through the motions all the way to the end, at which point, I ruminated on the limits of my capacity for discipline. Sadly, while I can force myself to do something I'm not inspired to do, I can't yet force myself to get inspired by doing it. If that makes any sense at all.

...Or whatever...

Here's some meaningful trivia for the road:

If that makes any sense at all.

...Or whatever...

Nothing New byslag at 6:15 AM

2 dispense karmic justice! (or just comment here):

Gye Greene said...

Yep. When it's not there, it's not there.

Maybe there's some zen trick -- kinda like smiling actually releases endorphins, which **makes** you happier.


slag said...

GG--Good question. I should definitely read more into the art of faking it 'til making it.

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