I must feel a high degree of affinity for those folks at 48 Hour Magazine ’cause they got me excited about doing things I usually hate: a) writing on a really short timeline, b) writing on a topic I haven’t been walking in the woods pondering for weeks, c) getting involved in something I couldn’t snoop out and do reconnaissance on beforehand – three weeks ago 48hrmag didn’t even exist.
To top it all off, the theme that was announced last Friday (contributors had one day to create and submit, editors the following day to make a magazine – crazy!) was HUSTLE. Now, any of you that know me, know I pretty much never hustle even when I’m moving quickly; and being pathologically honest I can barely fathom the grifter sense of the word. An A+ challenge for me. But I pulled it off, 30 minutes shy of the 24 hour mark, and out of the snot-filled depths of my flu-addled brain. Here’s what I sent in:
The Zen of Tweets
You wouldn’t expect a medium that delivers messages like: “UR hot, do U have a b/f? :- P” could be a vehicle for mindfulness training, but Twitter is.
Instantaneous, in your hand, a chance for you to take the moment you are in and share it with the world. A constant stream of other people’s micro-vignettes, ranging from beauty to despair, remind you every moment is a “moment.” It inspires you to be present in your own, seeking the words (or emoticons) to capture them in a tweet.
Each tweet, like a Zen Haiku, carries only the essential. There’s no room to digress, there is only the tweet. A moment captured in time, sent out, then disappearing in the flow of other moments.
Interactive social media tool? Pshaw! The gods of Chaos are hustling us, peddling 140 character shots at the still pool of enlightenment.
My submission didn’t make the cut (pause here while I practice accepting rejection…) but more interesting is the thought train this project has launched for me on subversive spiritualism: a world full of Love Hustlers. We’re all looking for a little peace and love, but get in the way of our own contentment. What are the ways you might slip a little joy in sideways? Is love coming at us in unexpected ways and we’re just not seeing it? What about wisdom teachers in places we don’t think they belong? My brain starts wandering to short story ideas of: Buddha as busker, selling songs of liberation for spare change; a Tim Horton’s Jesus slipping a little Holy Spirit into the Honey Dip donuts. How would God manage infinite love and a disillusioned clientele?
Way more than 48 hours worth of stuff to ponder. I’d love to hear what you think, then spend about 3 months walking in the woods with that.