Regular readers know that I abstain from abhorrent alcohol, almost given up coffee, meditate every day, exercise compulsively before noon, speak sparingly and only kindly, and now float six serene inches above San Francisco’s already sacred ground. Nearby Mission Dolores church wishes to rededicate its patronage to my spiritual works.
It is all a lie– all those ascetic, spiritual commandments– a lie. I have been drinking beer, even whiskey (shock!). I cavort at 3am parties. Yesterday, I consumed an afternoon coffee on the Upper Haight because I found cute those in line. I even skipped a few days of exercise. Father, forgive me for I have sinned.
Patrick warns that diets often fails. Like Mardi Gras before sober Ash Wednesday, the dieter binges right up to the start of the diet because he or she fears the scarcity ahead. Even more binging occurs when the diet slips. Right before landing in San Francisco, I was eating terribly and drinking too much on the road as I knew I would soon forego all these wonderful vices.
Nonetheless, intentions are important. We affect personal change by setting goals on distant mountains, then walking towards the peak. I am eating better, drinking less, and becoming a kinder person. I’m not a saint yet.