Thank God for Savasana. I had forgotten about the stampede, but chalking it up to another of life’s current conundrums just wasn’t going to cut it. I could still feel the afterburn of the disparaging culture we have become, a people obviously wearied by the chase after the American dream, trampled again and again by the rat race, worn by the urgency of survival (real or imagined), and mocked at every turn by someone who has done it better than we have (who is also thinner and better looking) running to yoga class as though life depended on it, pretending we don’t care. And frankly, that bothered me.
Gimme a B~
Normally my b#@* detector is a long-range internal mechanism designed to see things for what they are; this, however, was a new animal, a hybrid. This kind of BS was new and improved. Once upon a time the cons were the cons, the preppies, the junkies, the snobs, the geeks, the jocks, the bullies, the hussies, and so on. You could spot these personas a mile away. Now the ego has gotten so divisive, and with the help of high tech it can hide behind a cacophony of razzle dazzle, words, sweet smoke and mirrors galore. A veritable “pig in s#@*” for the ego.
Suddenly it’s a free-for-all. We can say anything, be anything we want, as long as we have a web site or a facebook page, we’re legit. As long as we say the right thing, it doesn’t matter what our behavior is. It does not matter that people are not who they say they are, as long as they get what they want. It’s become “the way it is.” And if thou art not hep to this next line of con you best get hep or be trampled.
I think Milly Vanilly started it. You can be a singer who has no voice, famous and have no talent (unless of course you flashed your vag on the internet—if you can consider this a talent), a guru who has sex with prostitutes, a cop who beats his wife, a pharmaceutical company that promotes addiction, a yogini who thinks peace is something that we’re fighting for in other countries, and even a relationship expert who has a scuzzy relationship. You can be a parent who doesn’t like kids, a husband who doesn’t believe in marriage, or what the hey—a U.S. president who doesn’t understand the English language.
Let me just say you are not alone in your confusion. These are no doubt confusing times! Things are not as they appear. Recently I read that Michelle Pfeiffer is afraid to go to the beach because she doesn’t want to see a picture of her cellulite splashed across the headlines. You probably thought, Ohh, a skinny little thing like that is perfect. Who knew, she has cellulite? And that it seems she herself is invested in you believing she doesn’t. Just like those of us who jam our faces up with needles and starve ourselves because we don’t want life to be the way it is.