That first morning we awoke on our mountain was the most peaceful morning of my life. The gauntlet fashion show was over. I was no longer in a fish bowl. I know I am not going to get any sympathy for my dilemma. There was just Rena and I, alone in paradise. I had made Rena a wonderful breakfast, and a grand cup of camp coffee. When she emerged from our tent, I said a prayer to her creator.
“Thank you!”
I watched her chew and swallow every mouthful, I on pins and needles because this was the day I would draw my Muse. I had brought my pad of drawing paper, and couldn’t wait to get started. Even though I only had two pieces left, that was enough.
“Did you enjoy your breakfast!”
“Hmm-mm!”
“Just look natural and be yourself. I want to capture your soul, the real you.”
As I raised my pencil, there was a rustle in the bushes, in the trees, and a figure emerged. It approached us. It had long hair and a beard. It wore no shirt, just cut-offs. As the hairy thing came closer I could see he was carrying a large potato.
“Now what?” I said under my breath lest Rena think I am having another fit of jealously.
“Can we help you?” asked Rena in all her radiance, and this guy lit up! Obviously he had never came this close to a very beautiful woman, and has got her full attention. How long was he lurking in the shrubs?
After a long pause, as he took her in, he pointed to his potato, and then over to our fire. He now made little shoving motions with his precious spud.
“What?” I said, knowing the truth. I had seen his kind before.
“You want to borrow some butter so you can shove that spud up your ass?”
Rena was delighted with yet another drop-in guest, a mystery guest, because he was acting mysteriously, and being from Grand Island Nebraska, any ol mysteriousness would do.
Beaming away at my Beauty, he now motions to my pencil and my pad of paper. Having skipped the 9th. grade, Rena was quick on the draw.
“Oh! You want to speak to me in writing. Be my guest!”
The Spud Man had got to first base – with his magical spud – and I watched his dirty hand dirty my pure white piece of paper reserved for the Love of My Life.
“Hi! I’m a young Buddhist initiate observing a week of silence in the woods. Can I put my potato in your fire because I am not allowed to make anything.”
Anything but – Rena!
To be continued
Jon Presco
Copyright 2013
Asceticism (/əˈsɛtɪsɪzᵊm/; from the Greek: ἄσκησις áskēsis, “exercise” or “training”) describes a lifestyle characterised by abstinence from various worldly pleasures, often with the aim of pursuing religious and spiritual goals. Many religious traditions (e.g. Buddhism, Jainism, the Christian Desert Fathers) include practices that involve restraint with respect to actions of body, speech, and mind like that of the Pythagoreans. The founders and earliest practitioners of these religions lived extremely austere lifestyles, refraining from sensual pleasures and the accumulation of material wealth. They practised asceticism not as a rejection of the enjoyment of life, or because the practices themselves are virtuous, but as an aid in the pursuit of physical and metaphysical health.
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