Compassion, Richard Gere, and getting over myself

I spent the last 10 weeks going through a rather intensive investigation of myself.

I can hear my Kansas friend Mary already saying, oh, Dr. Richard Gere. You’ve become a Buddhist.

I’ve revisited a lot of old wounds, tried to make amends, and learned – sorta — to be compassionate to myself.

I’ve always been my biggest critic.

I use to write about food safety, and other stuff, because, I can.

Don’t like it, go start your own thing.

Guess that was drilled into me when I was appointed editor-in-chief of the University of Guelph student newspaper, The Ontarian in 1986, with a weekly circulation of about 20,000.

After one semester, I left, because I had a 6-month-old child, was trying to finish my MSc in genetics, and was really pissed off that the advertising and business managers made about double what I did.

I took it to the Board of Directors, who assured me they would back me, and then bailed once they saw which way the wind was blowing.

Those folks are still employed by the University of Guelph, which says a lot about ethics, and sucking dick.

I’ll just do my thing.