Bill's Musings

I once worked with a person in the Arctic who was into Zen Buddhism. He was a very tranquil person, as one can imagine. Nothing got to him. He meditated regularly, did Tai Chi, drank all sorts of tea, and was in the most amazing shape I had ever seen someone.

Anyway, having to spend a lot of time with this guy, and me being just 23 years old, I absorbed much of his teachings. He told me that before he had become enlightened, he was a bad ass. Drove a motorbike, hung around with some hard cases, did drugs, the whole nine yards. Then one day, his brother asked him if he wanted to backpack through Asia. Having no current job, and possessing very little incentive to get one, he agreed to go.

This trip not only changed his life, but saved it. He ended up staying in Thailand for just over two years, became a Buddhist, and returned to Canada a new man. Cleaned up now, he finished his Technology degree, and ended up as a radar technician. Working in solitude was right up his alley, as time, to him, was immaterial.

He taught me to meditate, which was the easy part. We had few distractions other than work, and lots of spare time. He tried to show me Tai Chi, but given my current diet, I was resplendent with gaseous episodes, so we shelved that idea until the next step was accomplished: fasting.

Those of you who know me are aware that ‘fasting and Bill’ are like ‘shaving and jogging’….two things that are generally impractical if done at the same time. But I was willing to try. I even kept a journal, of which I will now share with you excerpts.

Day 1: Tim has told me that we will eat dry bread for three days to prepare our stomachs for 18 days of no food, and very little water. It sounds tough, especially since I have to walk through the lunch room to get anywhere on this station. But Tim seems to know what he’s doing. So, dry bread it is.

Day 1, hour 3: When he said ‘dry bread’, he wasn’t kidding. I now officially cannot whistle. I’ve tried, but my mouth is just too dry. And chunks come flying out. Memo to self: no whistling for awhile. Humming it is ..

Day 1, hour 10: Had to sneak some water to get the cement feeling out of my mouth. The water happened to be in beer form, but I only had two, so it’s all good.

Day 2, hour 2: Woke up hungry and thirsty, but a good hour-long shower did the trick. Did you know that Irish Spring soap not only smells good, but looks tasty (although I have found out to my dismay that it is actually not tasty). Oh well, saved me from brushing my teeth!!

Day 2, Hour 5: Have started working in the radar room. The tubes look like luscious, ripe bananas. I must resist eating them because I don’t want to hemorrhage internally. Everything smells good, even Mike, the cleaner, although I don’t think he’s showered in three weeks. I am feeling a little overwhelmed.

Day 2, Hour 7.5: I think I ate one of my mittens. I’m not sure, as I was delirious at the time, but I can’t find one of them, and I have a really bad stomach ache. Guess I’ll find out when I make it to the washroom, later…. Tim walked in awhile ago, and he looked to me like a giant pork chop. He is hiding somewhere….perhaps playing pool with the big chicken leg that just gave me my mail.

Day 2, Hour 14: My shift is over, and to be safe, I’ve locked myself in the walk-in cooler….it is perhaps unfortunate that the chef just finished all his baking, and it’s in here with me. Oh, well, I think I can resist long enough to get out of here to meditate….

Day 2, Hour 14 + 10 minutes: Nope.

It goes without saying that I never actually made it through the fasting part of the whole deal. Tim stayed fit, I stayed fat, and so, in our own way, we achieved our yin and yang.