Therese vs the Now

This blog comes with a Flow-warning.

Due to recent insight (read: stress-related miniature breakdown), I picked up my Eckart Tolle book again (A new Earth). It was gaining dust in an overly crowded bookcase, constantly being overlooked in favour of other books. Those of you who don't know the guy; he's Oprah's filosopher, the spiritual guidance-counselor alternative to Dr.Phil.
I realised the damages inflicted by doing a not-enough-fulfulling job for 2 years, needed repairing and with a mother like mine (she's a yoga teacher at the Noordsingel), you don't turn to medication; you turn to yourself, your friends&family, a strongly recommended work-appointed social worker and a helpfull book. I guess it took another bathroom-incident to turn back to the pages Tolle carefully wrote down and this time actually read and register the words on them.
So yesterday, on my way back home from work, I was reading yet another chapter on how to diminish the (my) ego by living in the now. There was a lovely illustration about a wise man raising another man's baby, because he accepts everything that life throws at him. In his case a lying teenmom's illegal bastard-child. Calling myself back into the now, is a big thing at the moment for me. It keeps me from worrying to much about things that haven't happened yet, and probably never will.
So when the commuter train stopped mid-track, between Schiedam and Rotterdam, I wasn't all that bothered. After ten minutes it was announced that hooligans were walking on the rails, but that still didn't interfere with my poise. Even after the conductor walked past and told us that we would be 'a while', I was still able to take the situation as it was and stick to page 166.
My poise and appreciation of the situation was seriously taken to the test when my neighbour wanted to share his view of the ordeal (see how it went from 'situation' to 'ordeal'?). In his eyes "all hooligans are mooching, aggresive parasites on wellfare and the train should just run over them, because they all deserved to die."
Confused on how to deal with this candid confession, I was able to shrug and say something along the line of "well, that would give to much of a mess and it would take ages to clean up all the bodyparts...".
I guess that's not the positive, calm response that Tolle would like to see, but it did pull my neighbour (a rough builder who probably votes Wilders) out of his negative realm and triggered the businessman next to him to join in on the conversation. And that's how a possibly annoying experience turned into making fun of my groceries (builder:"you must be really hungry", whilst pointing to my tiny container of Conimex-paste), talking about the book, eavesdropping on other passengers' conversations, cracking jokes that contained the words 'train' or 'track' and sharing Stophoest-sweets. Not bad at all.

But, in all fairness, I was relieved when the train reversed back into Schiedam and I could continue my journey to Rotterdam by subway. Because maintaining the 'here and now' (in hindsight the 'there and then') is pretty hard work! And I'm just not my best self when I'm getting hungry. Ok, I also wanted to go home to play with my new WII-game... In conclusion I think that mister Tolle has probably never been stuck in a train before; for God's sake, if it's not snow or wet leaves, it's hooligans bringing the railwaysystem down to a standstill!

But, that's all in the past now. Untill the next footballmatch. Or snowstorm. Or autumn.