DEATH AND TAXES

Managed to make it in time to Ash Wednesday Mass, though cutting off someone in the right lane to enter the church parking lot, free and conveniently located across the street from our tax accountant, where I had to deliver papers following the service, rendering what is his to Caesar. I was a little distracted on the drive in after a meeting I thought would never end, listening to a Teaching Company "Philosophy, Religion and the Meaning of Life" lecture about Elie Wiesel and his father during the Holocaust, painted as a tragic modern saint figure as a complementary bookend to Abraham and Isaac. Well, that put me in a perfect mood for the imposition of ashes.

I composed myself for proper cathedral behavior, and managed to follow along nicely in the service. I haven't been to a proper Anglican mass for a while. Maybe five or six years. I was charmed when the Bishop's homily referred to Saint Francis of Assisi, recalling to me the movie I watched recently where I perceived Taoist themes of yin and yang, nature and compassion. The Bishop told a story, almost as mood-altering as Elie Weisel's, about a woman with terrible face cancer (like St. Francis's lepers) in a nursing home he had to visit while a seminary student. Depressing, these ashy stories.

Which lead to the "Prayer over the Ashes." All solemn and pious, quietly settling in for a little meditation, surreptitiously experimenting with Taoist mudras while kneeling...and then my phone went off. My friendly reliable mechanic was calling. The ring tone I have assigned to his number is..."Start Me Up." Mick Jagger in the Cathedral. OMG. (At least it wasn't "Sympathy for the Devil.") Fortunately the phone was readily accessible in my bag, so I silenced it. Which was fine, until the voice message alert went off a minute later. Ring tone: "Like a Rolling Stone." Bob Dylan in the Cathedral. "Once upon a time, dressed so fine, threw the bums a dime, in your prime...didn't you.?" Silence! At the next convenient moment I retrieved the phone to turn it off. I do this for the opera; why didn't I think to do it for a mass?

When passing the peace, I apologized to those around me. No one seemed to care. I think I was forgiven.

A dash to the accountant. "If you have questions, don't call me, call my husband, I don't want to know." Back to the church parking lot. I'd left a sizable offering in the plate, but I didn't want to over-exploit my stay in the garden. I did take a moment to contemplate the fountain in front of the Cathedral. A big bronze image of St. Andrew and his fish, but the pond was empty of water, full of writhing snaky cables and copper wire. A couple of workers were standing around, doing something to the display. They thought it was funny when I took a photo.

"Spirituality is a work in progress, "I said. They laughed.

One more stop while I was in the neighborhood. My Chinese DVD vendor called me last week about the big sale she had on Tai Seng DVD sets.

She was talking to an older retired Japanese woman when I arrived, and we all started to chat about the DVDs. The retiree likes Taiwanese and Korean dramas and the historical epics I like too. "Those guys are all so handsome," she said. She assured me that retirement was great, she was busy and only regretted not retiring even sooner so she could take classes and watch DVDs. I wonder what her cellphone ringtones are.

I took her energy to heart as wise Ash Wednesday advice. Emily the vendor asked what happened to my head, there was black stuff on my forehead. "I've been to church," I said. "Oh, I thought you'd bumped into something." In a way, I did; spirituality is a work in progress.

I made my selection, buying enough for a free movie, increasing my backlog of DVD series that will carry me well through Lent, to say nothing of probably all the way to Advent. In 2012.

I want to go to China in May, but my plans are a bit tentative. This may be the closest I get. After all these videos, I should be able to speak Mandarin. Language -- like spirituality, also a work in progress.