They Call Him The Grasper

Grasp At:  To reach for and try to seize; to take eagerly; accept with alacrity.


It is winter where I live.


I do not like winter.


Get over it.


This should be my posting for today.  However, being a gassy windbag who loves the sound of his own inner voice I'll soldier on, at great length, explaining why winter is such a trial and tribulation, for me and for me alone.  I'll try to explain why I shouldn't have to endure winter and I'll fail at my explanation.  Excuse me, while I kiss my personal space heater on high.


I grew up in an area notable for a lot of heat and humidity.  I got used to it and it doesn't really bother me.  I'm tall and skinny, and I have lousy circulation and low blood pressure so I wick off heat with no problem.  The Cold, however, creeeeeeps deeeeep into my bones.


SuperK, on the other hand, is from a cold, cold place -- think of the coldest place you have ever been where people live and then think colder -- so winter doesn't bother her but heat and humidity throws her for a loop.  But that really doesn't affect me, does it?   I'm wondering why I even mention it.  Lip service, I guess.  She reads these things so I should at least pretend that I'm thinking of her from time to time.


So when the dark begins to arrive earlier and earlier and the wind blows and the rain falls and The Cold creeeeeps in and I'm driven from my little balcony back inside, my mood darkens and I begin bitching in earnest.  I don't mean the standard, petty bitching I engage in during most of my waking hours: I mean serious bitching.  Little kid bitching.


When SuperK and I were trying to decide where to go after we had exhausted the Old City's many charms, we narrowed our choices down to a somewhat uninteresting city that enjoys beautiful weather and to the New City, where the weather is just OK but the quality of life is significantly cool.  I voted for weather; SuperK voted for coolness; we compromised and picked coolness.  I'm glad we did, to be honest about it, but I'm not happy with the weather at the moment.


The Minor Buddha talks about grasping.  I have been grasping at a desire to not have to put up with weather I don't like.  I'm ignoring the fact that I have endured many, many winters and that winter here is milder than anywhere I've ever lived.  I'm ignoring the fact that many people besides me have to put up with weather that is much worse than this.  I'm trying to avoid something that makes me uncomfortable.  I don't care that this makes me sound like the spoiled two year old that I am.  I fight and fight my hatred of The Cold.  It amazes me how much energy I put into my grasping desire to be somewhere where I can let the heat sink into my bones, like a big snake.  I put the energy into the hate, which is the problem, and not into gratitude, which is the solution.


Grasping after things is a sure-fire recipe for unhappiness.  There's always something else to obtain, always something else to lust after.  The grass is always greener, as they say.


I really should spend some time working on this.  I clearly don't get it at the moment.  I clearly enjoy living in The Problem right now.  Good, old misery, my dear old friend.