Animal, Mineral or Vegetarian

I should be in NYC right now but due to 'low ceilings' or in plain English - fog, planes were not landing in Newark all day or taking off from Toronto's Pearson airport. I wasn't alone - Ivana Trump was rattling around T1 like a marble in a shoebox; nice to know it happens to the mightiest too.

I'm all for safety so I'm not angry with the airlines but I have to be honest - I'm disappointed; devastated actually. After a year of utter isolation in Canada I pinned a lot of my hopes for easy, comforting, human interaction on this weekend where I was due to meet friends from the UK for a jovial, boozy, emotional hen weekend full of familiarity and much needed solidarity. I've mentionned the crippling loneliness that has become the leitmotif of my daily existence since moving here (little did I know) so I needed this weekend in New York like a child needs the loving arms of its parents.

I didn't deserve what happened. Not really. I cried, sobbed to be precise and now I'm done with the NYC conversation.

Having to move on for sanity's sake in this abrupt way got me thinking about the Buddhist belief that all things and experiences are inconstant, unsteady and impermanent. Everything is made up of parts and is dependent on the right conditions for its existence. Everything is in flux, and so conditions are constantly changing. Things are constantly coming into being, and ceasing to be. Nothing lasts . In other words, seeking to prolong pleasure when it too is fleeting is inviting the root of all suffering: expectation.

One meditation junky told me once the way to get around this without appearing devoid of humanity is to be involved but detached. I sort of get it . I think it means engagement but not at the lowly emotional level that your average human being functions at. By that rational then if I don't want to feel pain then I have to avoid love. My world devoid of friends is empty enough. If love means pain and vice versa - I'll take the hit every time.

I'm off to London in December to attend the wedding of the girl whose hen party I missed in NYC. I can't wait. I like that I can't wait and no doubt I'll cry when I get there and more if I don't because to deny myself the nature of expectation is to live a life without hope and that just isn't 'real' enough for me.