Meditation. Awesome. Until it goes wrong.

Mediation is good is so many ways. Inspired by mushroom, LSD, or just plain old sitting down and staring at your toenails.

Meditation is one of those things. Everyone says it is good, but no one can really be bothered. Unless you’re making money out of showing everyone else how zen thou are. Or writing recovery books.

For years now my only meditation-like ability has been to play with car parts and heavy machinery. Sometimes I am able to switch of my constant right frontal headache and just live in the exact moment. This lasts for as long as it takes to put the drive shaft bolts in and discover that, yes, in fact, I AM STUCK UNDER THE CAR.

I used to panic in such situations. Roof spaces, under the floor… I would hate confined spaces. Nowadays I just switch off and calmly enter some sort of weird state where breathing seems like an option, not a requirement. It takes effort to work out how to get out of some of these situations. Once I managed to reverse out and then remembered the torch. I closed the hatch and walked off. Someone will find that torch in about fifty years when the house is demolished. It’s button will still be switched to “on” but its battery would have long ago died a thousand deaths.

I like playing with car parts and machinery. There are very few “if’s or but’s”. It either works as it is supposed to, or it doesn’t. 

I got to my mates place about 11.30am, was procrastinating as I knew the tools I needed for lifting the gearbox into the car were not present. It took fifteen minutes to get all the crap  out the way of the boot, so was entering “car work mode” and calming down from hyper energy me… And then thankfully remembered the shim setting width for the gearbox from last time I did one. So, I put all the bits of Mustang T5z gearbox back together in the boot of my car.

The boot of my car is an excellent description of my life. Have a look. Then multiple it by various garden sheds, friends carports, Mums garage, my own two bedroom flat, and a number of other stash spots.

Cheesy grin.

So, life is far from minimalist. If I was in the least O.C.D I would have to kill myself. Straight up.

But then, when trying to lift 40kg of metal into position above your head in a pit whilst kneeling down… And then growing a third arm to move things around… Well... You cannot help but switch off really. Switching off may be the wrong term. But, for me, it is somewhat. There is only one option. This HAS to be exactly 17mm fat. This HAS to be lifted into this position. It HAS to be 0.1mm in position, not 0.3mm. It HAS to fit. I HAVE to do it myself. It HAS to work.

So, I bloody well make it. No option. It HAS to work.

I find an old car jack of mine in the floor of the pit amongst various debris, so use that to hold everything up at the back.
Then I am trying to get the wiring sorted and find a cable tie in the bottom of the pit.

My higher power was on form yesterday.

But then, driving the car off was shocking. It feels like something is seriously wrong. It jumps and when reversing feels like everything is breaking and then falling back into place and breaking again. It is horrible.

May have to practise some meditation, go to some N.A meetings and try to keep my eyes open…

And then pull the car apart again.


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