Well played, Amazon

Well, Black Friday and Black Friday weekend came and went and I didn’t see the inside of a mall.

I did buy a couple of things though – one planned for and one unexpected, but kinda planned for (I’ll explain). So I feel pretty good about my little bit of consumerism. Both purchases were….mindful!

First off, remember when I told you I unsubscribed to almost every email prodding me to buy? I left a couple…one was Michael’s, because I only buy my art supplies there when I have a sizeable coupon (50% off, I’m looking at you!), and those coupons come in the email.

And the other was Amazon, because – thanks to their emails – I found out I have access to Amazon Prime Video, and now Music and I am quite enjoying both of those services. Especially since I gave cable TV the boot a few months back.

During my overhaul of Chez Badass into a liveable space, being an Amazon Prime member made a lot of sense and I was seriously debating discontinuing my membership now that my place is fully small-applianced. Then I got the email chiding me for not taking advantage of my Prime Video subscription (part of being a member). OK, maybe not chiding. Maybe I was chiding myself for being such a dumbass that I did not know I even had access to this.

Anywho, since then I’ve been enjoying shows like Bosch and American Gods…but not on my TV. Only on my iPad. Alas, although my TV is only 3 goddamn years old, it apparently is too old to handle the Prime Video app. I won’t go into the swearing and gnashing of teeth and phone calls to LG customer service and an information-gathering trip to Best Buy that preceded this realization but let me just say that that’s a Saturday morning I will never have back.

Once I settled down, I thought a couple of things. First – there is no way I am buying a new goddamn TV just to watch Prime Video with. Second – maybe it’s time I went with Apple TV. Well, thank goodness I checked things out on the Interwebs first, because I learned that Apple TV does not offer the Prime Video app. But apparently might, soon? And in the meantime, I could magically beam it from my iPad through the Apple TV box onto my TV. Hmmmmm…sounds like a lotta work, that might not work, ya know what I mean?

So I held off, waiting for the big announcement that Apple TV now offers the Prime Video app. Still waiting….still waiting….

Then the email from Amazon came, announcing something called a Fire Stick – for only $50 with free shipping. A quarter of the price of the Apple TV magical box that still does not offer the Prime app. A no-brainer.

Yep, so that and some cadmium yellow and cobalt blue paints (55% off). Those were my big Black Friday weekend purchases. My Fire Stick should be delivered today.

Yep, I responded to the email prods to buy…but I had planned for those purchases in advance. They were things I already had decided I needed and was planning to buy. So, they were mindfully done.

Yep, and for now, I am very happy to remain a Prime member. They keep adding value to this subscription. Well played, Amazon!

Rock on,

The WB

 

The Pause that Refreshes – Mindful Monday

I’m working on it.

I have been meditating every day and practicing doing things mindfully, and dumb shit still does bother me. At least it takes up more of my mental energy than I feel it deserves.

There was a post that popped up on my Facebook feed (isn’t that the way these things always start?), and I’ve was thinking about it off and on for most of yesterday. The person posted in one of the Village’s community groups that he was upset because he ordered pizza delivered but didn’t tip the delivery guy, and the delivery guy got sarcastic with him, thanking him for the (no) tip. No mention was made of poor service. Mr. No Tip chose not to tip for his own reasons.

So Mr. No Tip felt he had to justify his actions (poor, single dad with no car) and complain that he doesn’t get tipped for his work, and seek assurance from the Facebook community that he was right, goddammit, and the delivery guy was wrong and let’s all talk about it and get worked up and hopefully delivery guy gets fired and the named pizza business takes a hit for employing someone so rude.

Well, this wasn’t explicitly said, but why else wouldn’t you just shake it off and move on with your life?

I think I know. Because Mr. No Tip just might have felt like a bit of shitheel for no tipping, and then he gets called on it, so now he feels even worse and therefore has to take measures to feel good about himself again, online. I’m no therapist (thank goddess, eh?) but I’m just supposin’.

Anyways, I read the comments (I know, I know…sigh) and people were commenting on how a tip is not a given and yeah, they had problems too with said business and drivers…but what about poor servers, yada yada. The general consensus was that the driver never should have said what he did. And I agree.

Perhaps “war” was too strong a term in this instance. But still entertaining AF.

But the driver didn’t complain on the community forum about that douche that stiffed him for a tip or call him out by his name*, so I focused on Mr. No Tip’s behaviour instead.

And this got me thinking all kinds of thoughts. I tried to not think about Mr. No Tip himself, whom I’ve met IRL and who has not impressed me with other whiny shit things he has posted. I tried instead to put myself in his shoes as I thought through what was posted.

Which was easy, because I have been in his brokeass shoes. And when we couldn’t afford to tip someone for service, guess what? We didn’t eat out. We didn’t order in. We made do with what was in the kitchen cupboard.

Money was always tight growing up. When we went out for the day as a family, Mom made sandwiches and the Coleman stove was packed so we could have soup and tea to go with our meal. Because there was no extra money for restaurant food, not even at a cheap diner. We picnicked at a roadside rest area instead.

Once a year, my parents treated themselves (and later, us kids too) to a meal out for their anniversary. They saved up the money (including tip) to go out for a real treat – Chinese food. They didn’t say: We are supporting 5 people on 1 immigrant working man’s salary and we can barely make ends meet and this is our only meal out for the next 12 months, so we are entitled to not tip. 

They tipped, because that is what you do in our society when you receive good service at restaurants and the like. You don’t make your brokeass life the server’s problem. If you can’t afford the tip, stay home. If you can’t afford the tip, don’t order delivery.

That doesn’t mean you have to tip – but if the service is decent, you should tip and you should factor that into the cost of your meal before you go out or order in. That’s how I was raised.

In my younger days as a married adult, money was tight as well. I was still in university. I remember one of our first meals out as newlyweds – could’ve been an anniversary, I can’t remember – we thought we had enough cash with us to cover our meal and the tip but when the check arrived we found we had miscalculated. Oh shit. We were young and unprepared – no credit cards; debit cards were not a thing yet, nor ATMs; banks were closed; and I had left the chequebook at home. So we had to slink out of the restaurant without leaving a tip for our nice server. I left a note explaining that there was nothing wrong with the service; we were dumbasses who couldn’t add. I felt like a total shitheel that night. I never let that happen again.

I went back on Facebook later in the day and saw a post that said the original post (and comments) had been removed and Mr. No Tip has been removed from the group as well, by the group’s administrators (yet again). He was removed about a year ago too, for making an somewhat similar ranty post, with racial overtones that offended a lot of readers including yours truly. Then he popped up again a few months later, having rearranged his name on his Facebook account.

So, what does any of this have to do with mindfulness, you might be asking by now?

Like the cool cat at the top of the post, I was hoping that being more mindful would mean this kind of thing wouldn’t occupy so much of my brain on a November Sunday. But that is not what mindfulness is about actually. It is about taking a pause before automatically reacting. And in that pause, (hopefully) seeing and acting with more clarity. With mindfulness.

I paused yesterday. I did not fire off a comment (snarky or otherwise) to enter the fray. Which is something I might have done earlier. I did take a pause to not react, and instead to clarify my own thinking. And I recalled some nice (and some humbling) memories as I did so. And then I wrote it all down on Ye Olde Blogge, because…NaBloPoMo…hehehe.

Good to remember when my fingers get twitchy on Facebook.

Rock on,

The WB

*Mr. No Tip didn’t either (I doubt he knew his name), but he did name the business involved which I think ultimately led to his post being deleted.

 

 

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Coming to Mindfulness by the Back Door

I’ve been thinking a lot about living in the moment (being mindful).

I’ve been practicing daily meditation for a couple of weeks now. As with most people, I’m pretty bad at it. But I keep trying.

And the reason I keep trying is because, at the most stressful time of my entire life, being mindful got me through.

When I was living with JD, his OCD made our lives chaotic and exhausting and extremely difficult to live with any measure of peace. Correction: it made my life that way. It was his normal way of being and he seemed mostly OK with that.

Except every once in a while he would complain about other people being able to take vacations and have weekends “off” and time to enjoy life, and why couldn’t we?

Oh brother. Where do I begin? I used to tell him exactly why but he didn’t want to acknowledge that it was the disease’s doing because he didn’t want to seek help. So I just stopped responding. He didn’t want a solution; he just wanted to complain at the unfairness of it all.

Anywho, every once in a wee while he would agree to us taking a day or most of a day off and we would hit the road for a respite. Those times got me through. During those times, without consciously thinking about it or forcing it, I lived totally in the moment. I was BEING. HERE. NOW. I  didn’t think about the mess back home, the unceasing backlog of work, the shit-storm life I found myself trapped in, NOTHING.  I just enjoyed every present moment of being with a more relaxed, funny and charming JD, and taking in some new sights and experiences.

And when that day or those few hours ended, I felt as refreshed as if I had been away for a week of “regular” vacation. Huh!

When JD got cancer, things got much worse. Because nothing was supposed to change or else the cancer would have won. (Spoiler: the cancer won anyways – 6 months later.)

So I kept working and going to (online) school and now I had a new job – caregiver to someone who already needed a lot of care and attention. JD had to stop working because he was too weak but he kept on going with his MBA studies as well. And his OCD escalated, of course. And I had to participate in even MORE of his daily rituals as part of my caregiver role. Plus we had a few of our own, like his nightly heparin shot to the stomach, that I had to administer.

Most days the only moment of peace I had to myself was when I went upstairs to wash my face to get ready for bed. I wash my face with olive oil, have been doing this for years. But when JD was sick, this became my “moment”.

I would apply the olive oil to my face and gently massage it all over. Then I would take a washcloth and rinse it in the hottest water I could stand. Then I would place the hot washcloth on my face and just let it sit there. Ahhhhhh….

I called it my daily spa moment. During that 60 seconds or so, I focused on the feeling of peace and serenity that accompanied the hot cloth being applied to my face. I succeeded in noticing every wonderful moment of that experience. My mind emptied of all other thought. And if I was really lucky, I got to enjoy it until the cloth got cooler without hearing “Sweetie? Sweetie, where are you? Sweetie! Sweetie!!”

And it was enough to keep me going for another day. It had to be.

So these 2 experiences taught me about the absolute power of mindfulness. I wasn’t intentionally being mindful – not at all – I had no time to think about that. It was more like a survival instinct kicking in. I found myself at mindfulness, at this intention unintentionally, by opening the unmarked backdoor.

Rock on,

The WB

 

Becoming Mindful About Money – Mindful Monday

Indeed.

I think I’ve been pretty good with money overall. But I do have some big-ass goals related to paying down the demand loan on my building and those extra payments aren’t going to make themselves, ya know?

One of the first things I’m looking at to increase mindfulness in my life is to become more mindful about my spending (again). In the bad old, sad old days, I was used to having to sweat over every little purchase. It was not fun.

Living on my own now, I actually have more money at my disposal than when I was married, thanks to no longer carrying two properties while also paying for a masters degree and supporting husband #2’s dream of becoming a golf pro (a seasonal, minimum wage venture while apprenticing). Huh, go figure. Thus for the last few years I’ve been enjoying not having to think too much where the money was going to come from when an idea/item took my fancy. (Kayaks, I am looking at you!)

A while back I read an excellent post on how, in our consumerist culture, we are brainwashed into thinking we can save money by spending money. This was embraced by husband #1 – it used to make me crazy to have to scrimp on groceries everything only to have him come home with some expensive new toy tool and proclaim how much money he saved by buying it.

Like the whole second-hand sewing machine vs. motorcycle debacle. In the early days of our marriage (1981, I believe), I asked if he thought we could afford to get me a used sewing machine I saw listed in the newspaper ($150) and he said we couldn’t afford it right now. I was disappointed but agreed to wait. Not even three weeks later he comes home late from work and tells me he bought a motorcycle ($3500). Even put on his big boy pants and went and got a loan – all by his little self – without so much as a hint to me as to what he was doing/thinking. But he got SUCH A GREAT DEAL!

So I did what any good wife would do. Ran right out to the mall and came home with a brand new designer wardrobe sewing machine ($250). Good times, good times. Good thing I’m “over” it. Yup. (See yesterday’s post.)

Back to the Now: The post I mentioned above – on Our Next Life – resonated with me so much that I still remember it, weeks later. It really is worth the time to click through the link and read about how this couple “fostered a new mindset” instead. AND, their spending went down and savings increased when they weren’t hunting for the best deal when considering a purchase. Mind. Blown.

Like Mrs. ONL, I have been spending this past week ruthlessly unsubscribing from store emails – at a rate of about 5-10 per day!

Some were easy…some I struggled with because, well….oh look, such pretty things from a favourite retailer… I love a deal as much as any red-blooded woman.

These Inbox temptresses were arriving daily with one purpose only: to create a desire to purchase that didn’t exist in me until I opened them up.

Hey yeah, I’ve been meaning to get me one of those, and look – it’s on sale with free shipping if I spend more than $50! What else can I buy to take advantage of the free shipping? Look at all the money I’m saving by buying this thing I had no idea I “needed” until I READ. THIS. EMAIL.

Free shipping and returns?

Code for 50% off on EVERYTHING IN THE STORE/ONLINE?

BOGO?

NOGO! Get thee behind me, Satan! I unsubscribe you. Back to the sooty depths of the spam folder, where you belong!

Yeah. So I’m letting that shit go.

Money mindfulness for a Mindful Monday.

Rock on,

The WB

 

 

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Pay Attention When You Have a Violent Reaction to Something

On Friday I made a post of some favourite Canadian music artists  of mine. I deliberately left off one very talented artist because of one song that just makes me gnash my teeth whenever I hear it.

City and Colour – The Girl. Go ahead and take a listen. I’ll be here when you come back.

A lot of people love this song. They think it is tender and romantic. It makes my blood boil.

Dallas Green sings: You sacrifice so much of your life in order for this to work.

And: If you were to leave; fulfil someone else’s dreams, I think I might totally be lost.

I end up mentally (or actually, if I’m alone) screaming whenever this song comes on the radio:

Oh yeah, what about her own fucking dreams, huh?! Why is The Girl’s only purpose to fulfil someone else’s dreams? What about her own dreams? Why does she have to sacrifice so much of her own fucking life to make the relationship work? Where is your sacrifice, Dude?!?!

Lately I’ve been thinking about this violent reaction I have to what most people would say is a gentle and loving tribute to someone in the artist’s life.

If you’re acquainted with this blog or know me in person, you’re probably shaking your head right now and thinking it’s so bloody obvious. And yes, it is to me now. I hate the lyrics in this song because It. Is. About. Me.

I’m the one who sacrificed her own dreams for most of my adult life to support the two husbands I committed to. Men who either were or would have been totally lost (at least temporarily) when/if I left.

So I’m furious with this song because it reminds me that I alone allowed this to happen. I willingly drank the Kool-Aid. And I’m still not at peace with myself for doing this. Although it is getting better.

A valuable lesson for me to remember: that when I have a violent reaction to something that doesn’t warrant that much emotion there is some inner work I need to do.

My apologies to City and Colour for omitting them from my Friday post. It’s not you; it’s me. Really.

Rock on,

The WB

 

 

Mindful Monday – the Zafu

I’m shaking off the blog frustrations plaguing me lately and I’m going to try something new on ye old blogge – a theme for one day of the week: Mindful Mondays.

Each Monday I am going to post about something related to introducing more mindfulness into my life. I’ve been fascinated by (and dabbled in) Buddhist thinking and practice since I was first introduced to it in Writing Down the Bones, by Natalie Goldberg, way back in the early nineties. Reading Robert Wright’s Why Buddhism is True: The Science and Philosophy of Enlightenment  reminded me recently of all that just “clicks” for me about this philosophy.

And I promise not to get all preachy about it, like I just turned raw vegan or something. That’s not really my style. This is more my style:

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Initially I balked at the idea of having to BUY something with which to sit still and empty my mind, but after a couple of painful attempts at meditating last week, I reconsidered my stance.

I found this cushion on Amazon.ca and both the price and the reviews were fantastic. I am absolutely thrilled with my buckwheat-filled zafu.

Loving this cushion

It’s still hard AF to quiet my mind, but at least my hips, legs, and back aren’t yelling at me the whole time. I could sit for a whole 10 minutes this morning. Baby steps, people, baby steps!

Rock on,

The WB

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