It isn't what you plan.

I told a priest about a Southern India vegetarian restaurant. He said he didn't like Indian food... and then went on to tell me the other foods he didn't like. I asked him about the Buddhist idea of "no preferences" and he said that he tries. Then he asked the head priest if he liked nut bread, knowing that too much of that was served at the monastery where they used to reside. The head priest said that he liked it (or maybe he said he hated it). In any case, I asked, what about the buddha who had no preferences? He said that all those buddhas are dead.

Yesterday I had big plans. I was going to pick up an art work from an exhibition, get an "over 65" bus pass, buy some secret ingredient (tapioca flour)  for my soon to be successful (I hope) experiment with making perfect non-gluten bread, and see the Henry Horenstein photo exhibit. My challenge was not to waste a lot of time or gas.

I knew that you got the bus pass from the main office for Austin Metro. It was on the East side of Austin. So I went there, only to find out that I was wrong... it was downtown. I thought of the positives... that I had now seen a part of Austin new to me, and I had an opportunity here to have a disappointment and to let it "roll off my back" as Jeanie told me to do once in St. Louis.

Then I took off to the Horenstein exhibit (which I enjoyed tremendously). Animals shot at zoos and aquarians. I thought it was between where I was, and downtown. I set my GPS to the new location, and discovered that I passed downtown towards the west side to get there. Oh well, I thought, next time I'll know better.

Then I went to pick up my artwork, which was not only in downtown Austin near the other Metro office, but included free parking for the day. After returning to my car and wrapping the work in my yoga mat, I decided to walk to the Metro office. I got the pass, and then realized that I would have to ride the bus six times over the next two years to pay for it ($3). I was then within walking distance to a couple of museums. So I walked to the first one, which turned out to be further than I remembered. This is good, I thought, I get to walk more. On the way I found a third museum. It was closed while they were setting up an exhibit.

Then I got there (or at least where Google said it should be, and found a deserted museum. I checked Google again and concluded that when it merged with a second museum it had actually dissolved into nothing. Oh, great, I though, another opportunity to not get disappointed.

So then I went to the museum that it had merged with. I didn't think I'd have to pay there because I had donated a work to them for a future exhibit. I got there and the door had a padlock on it. I figured that this must be the wrong door... so I walked to the other side of the museum and found the door locked. Then I walked back to the locked door and read the sign. Not open until today. Another opportunity to enjoy the nice sunny day in Austin, I thought.

At City Hall, where I had my artwork, I got to see the folks who were occupying City Hall. Countless sleeping bags were set up on the steps, and two guys were throwing a football back and forth. Four cops were giving a hard time to a guy who'd been drinking. Throughout  my walk through the downtown area I found an interesting assortments of street people and home people. It took a second look sometimes to tell the difference.

Finally, I returned to my car at City Hall, and drove off to Natural Grocers to get the Tapioca and some organic short grain rice (much better than long grain). I found also some non-gluten pretzels... that I shouldn't have bought... and if I bought, shouldn't have eaten. But I did and I did.

This might have sounded like a shaggy dog story... but it was really a great day. Lots of disappointments took me to see things I've never seen, and an opportunity to "go with the flow" rather than to lament that life isn't how I planned. 

P.S. Thanks to Angela for telling me about a cool new 99¢ iPad program called "Artpad" that I used to make the image above.