Foundations

I'm tired, he said.  I'm sick, he said.  I'm bored, he said.  I'm done, he said.

Wait, he said.  Patience, he said.  "Soon come", he said.

Okay, he sighed. 

And so on, and so forth, and so beautiful, and so what.  The way of overcoming the monotony without succumbing to depression is to plan and dream of the future.  Of the days that will be worth remembering, rather than this tedium.  Actively choosing a life, rather than settling for this path of least resistance and effort and confrontation.

It has been that kind of week.  The release of the COSS decision reiterating the status quo, picking up none of the comments or arguments and essentially rendering that work useless in the grand scheme.  All the worry over the quality of testimony and witness prep and the like - for nought.  And so you move on to the next pieces of argument in the long list.  And with no sense of the cause except to set up your own future.

Call tomorrow on the never-ending arbitration to set a schedule for a fight that is only ever about egos and money, but which should at least be resolved from your end by the time Brazil kicks off.  Though first a call on the cost of pollution analysis, another in the line of ongoing matters from way back when that is still unresolved and with no good answers.  Add to that a weekend of work to refine the explanation of a complex royalty regulation battle, also over just money (of course), and to develop written arguments for the LRT response that will read in years hence as almost utterly devoid of meaning to your spirit and purpose.  It has been a good trade-off over the years, money for blocks of time and words, but there is no escaping the conclusion that a more conclusive ending is coming.

It will be a different St. Pat's this year as a result of this work that has emerged of a sudden.  Fitting after last year's madness and downward spiral to the lowest of points in the aftermath.  Don the green jacket and think with optimism while you drink the early morning breakfast Guinnui, of next year at the same time, and what schemes you will have concocted that may be waiting for you then.  As you return to the office for calls about LRTs and surplus power sales and other things, which matter little.

Because it is a year or so, always a year.  About a year to get ready and to start getting serious with the savings and the preparations.  To pack in the memories of a summer on the water, of newborns, and the most epic of itineraries through a Brazilian World Cup that promises to be oh-so-special and kindle the fire of departure that has been brewing.

Necessity, Nick said, quite rightly, about what it takes to succeed in business.  You need to be hungry and driven and interested.  I have none of those qualities at present.  I'm off to yoga now, the foundations class, my second class in memory and tribute to vows made by the Ganges.  Let the mind wander as it will.  The day will come when you escape again, and then the day will come when you return with new plans and the like.  I know it aye.  Until those lofty points, get a solid rest tonight, wake up early and attack this office and the work to come with some enthusiasm.  Actually set out to write about the Montreal trip with the family that passed so excellently, and of green bikinis shining in the neon lights of the Prince Street pool, and donairs with Red Stripe and mediocre Kevin Spacey, and Friday cooking attempts to come, but no matter.  Those, too, are memories of the past to guide the present toward the more perfect outcome.  Go enjoy, and remember the mantra.

The twin goals of joy and peace.