On Monday, I do savasana the proper way.*
It is so fucking boring, I almost die.
My heartbeat and breath rate slow down to nada.
I am so bored, I think, this is what death must feel like.
(Hey, was that a moment of enlightenment?)
And then I think, fuck, if this is death, then I definitely want to live. FOREVER.
Jane: If you tell me again I’m not doing yoga and meditation right, I’m going to stop talking to you. FOREVER.
Sean: There is no right or wrong. But there is weird.
Well. I don’t mind being weird. But I hate being wrong.
Flora and I are burning hydrocarbons (sitting in a non-moving but engine-running truck) and listening to Hedley.
Flora: Do you know that this is the censored version? That it’s really supposed to be ‘Fuck that,’ not ‘Forget that’?
Flora: So everyone knows.
Flora: Censorship is so stupid.
I’m about to contradict myself. Take a deep breath… inhale through your nose… hold it… exhale in four snotty snorts…
Racism is stupid.
Sexism is stupid.
Being an ignorant asswipe is stupid.
You know what else is stupid?
Telling people they’re stupid.
Jane: See, nobody ever changed anybody else’s mind by saying, ‘You’re wrong. No, you’re not just wrong, you’re FUCKING STUPID.’
Flora: But some things are just wrong.
Flora: So we’re not supposed to say that they’re wrong?
Jane: No, we can’t ever, ever fall silent, but…**
Why is this so difficult to explain?
In my newsfeed: all the same things that are in yours. Including an exhortation that sanity lies in surrounding yourself with ‘like-minded people.’
So, um. No.
You: Surrounding yourself with like-minded people is stupid?
Jane: No. But it’s too easy. In fact… it’s cowardly. And it’s not going to change the world, and it’s not where sanity lies.
Do you know where sanity lies?
Sanity lies in not demonizing the Other. And the only way to not demonize the Other is to get to know the Other… and make the Other know you.
I’m not suggesting you love the fucking racists, sexists, homophobes, and assholes.
(BTW, autocorrect changes homophobes to homophones, and I do suggest you love homophones, cause homophones are cool.)
I am suggesting you… like, make them know you. You know? And that means stepping out of your safe bubble of like-minded people. Keep your bubble as your sanctuary and safe place, by all means. But fuck. Look around you. Right-wing or left-wing, liberal or conservative, if everyone in your life is JUST LIKE YOU… you’re part of the problem.
We’re all part of the problem.
Laying in savasana today I decide yoga and meditation are part of the problem too. A form of escapism slightly more palatable than substance addiction.
Sean: Ok, you really are not doing yoga right.
Jane: I don’t think anybody is doing yoga right, actually. That’s the problem.
So judgemental. I’m trying to find some compassion. It’s hard.
Jane: So see, I think what we need to do is sit down with the racists, sexists, homophobes, Islamophobes, and all the other “What the fuck is wrong you”-obes, and…
Flora: Say “What the fuck is wrong with you?” to their faces?
I’m so fucking this up.
Why is this so hard?
Jane: No. I think we just have to say, “Hey. I’m… me. I’m real. Hey. Look at me. I’m a person. I’m a human. I’m a child-parent-worker. I eat. I breathe. In all the essentials, I’m just like you. You’re just like me. I’m looking at you, and I’m trying to see you as real. And I want you to look at me and see me as real.” Do you see? Because it’s much easier to hate an abstract idea… than a real person…
Flora: And who did the shooter in Quebec City hate? Abstract ideas… or the Muslims he shot?
Why is this so hard?
Tomorrow, I’m going to lie in savasana properly. As a form of escapism.
And listen to Hedley:
And probably be part of the problem. Because the only way towards a solution I see is so hard. So hard.
I don’t know if I can do it.
And if I can’t do it… the Others won’t, will they? Why should they?
Photos from Project: Beautiful Things All Around Me
* How I usually do savasana: American hell, the corpse pose & a murder in a yoga studio
** From Brainpickings: An Anthem Against Silence: Amanda Palmer Reads Ella Wheeler Wilcox’s Piercing and Prescient 1914 Protest Poem: “To sin by silence, when we should protest makes cowards out of men.”