Tag: zen

SIGHTS

A-Tikkin’ and A-Tokkin’

X. Jupiter Hart

As a comfortable majority of us are aware, talk of a change of management at Twitter is afoot. Depending on to what extent the Muskian suckage sickens The Bird (which I anticipate to be significant, on account of our new would-be overlord’s dastardly plot to reanimate the orange monster from its eldritch crypt for no reason whatsoever other than for the evulz), I may find myself switching to another platform as the primary social tentacle of this website. Methinks the time has come to give that new kid on the block a whirl. I’ll probably get bored with TikTok after a week, but it’s nice to know it’s there as a backup in case Captain Elon’s woeful neglect of the rat problem forces me to abandon ship.

My voice isn’t the oratory chocolate of Sir David Attenborough and I probably totally goofed in putting this maiden TikTok creation together, but as an exercise in getting my hands dirty with the platform, it works.

@x_jupiterhart

#meditation #zen #comedy #smartzombie #spring

♬ Healing Water – The Meditation – Red Blue Studio
SMELLS

Summer’s Last Crumbs: A Duology (Part II)

X. Jupiter Hart

I was not aware that entire buildings were constructed for such a purpose. That’s now a thing that I know.

Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese…

Regrettably, Jack-in-the-Green mysteriously disappeared the other weekend, somewhere along another nature trail near another lake. This is his replacement, Professor Plum.

I would have called it Deep Purple if it was a slightly different hue.
SMELLS

Summer’s Last Crumbs: A Duology (Part I)

X. Jupiter Hart

Nestled somewhere deep in the woods is a spot where a dude can really get his Zen on. Well worth the (slightly steep) price of a parking permit. The province will soon be shutting down that spot for the winter, so I decided to squeeze in one last visit.

This strain is called Monkey’s Breath. I think. Most of the bowl was already smoked before I even thought to take a picture of it.
That’s one fancy looking outhouse.
I bet there’s at least one jackass every year who’s actually glad to pay that extra $150.

Behind the fancy outhouse is a yellow brick road. Except it’s a more of a drab grey colour, and the bricks are wooden. Didn’t see any lions or tigers, but at one point I thought I heard a bear. Which turned out to be just a very loud squirrel. Oh my!

“…and you’ve just had some kind of mushroom, and your mind is moving low…”

There’s no Emerald City at the end of that yellow brick road. Instead, one finds something arguably even better. Another lake.

That’s probably the Wizard’s house, but I ain’t swimming that far.

That feeling of sand between one’s toes is regrettably nowhere near as blissful as it was but a few weeks ago. I spent very little time at the beach, save a quick polar bear plunge to wash off the sweat accrued from a four-kilometre hike. One I didn’t have to apply two coats of DEET all over every inch of my body for. The mosquitoes (which are the size of small dogs around these parts) have been thankfully reclaimed by the spirits.