"I feel bad that I don't feel bad enough." - Darlene Conner
So this overly friendly person from work, Ms. Goody Poopoo, talked about her husband's dad having terminal cancer, only two weeks before Christmas 2012. In case you are as obtuse as those ASHY shri-mongering assholes, Christmas 2012 (or shortly before that precisely) was purported to be the end of the world, and we were all supposed to have already cleaned our houses and to always have clean underpants on just in case. Anyway...
Ms. Goody Poopoo's husband was not close to his own father. Naturally I, Sarcastic Yogi, had the answer to everything. Really, I had the "perfect" response. I gave the speech about having no regret... you know, I went through the same firgging thing with my parents... I looked after my mom after her surgery but I did it for myself... I achieved all that shit from a place of "no regret"... fluff, fluff and more fluff... I, Sarcastic Yogi, was an international sex symbol that dwarfed David Hasselhoff in speedos while licking a cucumber... add more fluff... well, you get my drift.
For a brief moment I thought I had it all figured out, and of course that's nowhere near the truth.
Shortly after my conversation with Ms. Goody Poopoo, an dastard opened fire in an elementary school in Connecticut killing many innocent lives. There is no word to describe my feelings towards this repulsive act of a fucktard... actually, I am not sure if "repulsive act of a fucktard" is the right description of the shooting or if the guy was a true fucktard. But I do know what the assholes from Westboro Baptist Church threatened to do was a repulsive act of a bunch true fucktards: those evolution rejects actually wanted to picket at the funerals of those children who were killed at Sandy Hook Elementary.
Succumbing to herd mentality and the almost unanimous outcry over the senseless violence, I immediately jumped on the "say a prayer" bandwagon before I got on the train of "gun control".
But it's never truly unanimous when it comes to human emotions.
In the beginning I thought I felt anger and sadness. On the surface it was not untrue (oh yeah! double negative!) that I was angry and sad. But what is the object of my emotions? What am I angry at? I don't know these people. So why am I sad? Or am I? Or are we trying to collectively project our own demons on others tragedy to have our own emotion blowout?
Fast forward a little...
Human nature never fails to entertain me. Some people's responses to the terrible incident in Connecticut were outlandishly fascinating.
Someone deduced how pharmaceutical companies were worse than gun, or something like that, because she has a beef with those companies and the doctors and lawyers hired by them... hmm... okay.
Some white dude, who insists to be addressed by his hand picked Hindu name, unleashed his repulsive mental diarrhea and went on about "everything is fine, all is well, the Whole is awesome, my hole is itchy, hare hare krishna...". According to this asshole, we just don't get it because we are not as awakened as he is. To be as awakened as he is, we need to buy his book. Bitch please!
Of course the fucktards from Westboro Baptist Church were a class act all the way.
Let's not forget Crusty Nono Myass never misses an opportunity as such to sell ASHY membership and to preach for her cheesy brand of forgiveness and compassion.
I guess it is fair to say there will always be opportunistic vultures who push their own agendas or sell their stupid book, even at the expense of someone's suffering.
Fast forward some more...
Every year I spend Christmas day with my "real" parents, as in my "parents" by choice and not by blood. If you really want to know, they are a gay couple who's been together for 30+ years (chew on that, heteros!). Anyway, my "real" parents always have a game of bingo after Christmas dinner and everyone always plays for a laugh or two. This time I also brought Jumbo Jugs Jojo with me because I'm just that loving and caring. While we were playing bingo and cracking jokes, the health of the husband of one their sisters took a turn for the worse at the hospital. They abruptly left, and a very long and quiet minute followed. You can imagine how awkward the rest of us felt. But a few minutes later we went back to joking and laughing as if nothing had happened.
On our way home, Jumbo Jugs Jojo briefly talked about the death of her nephew who committed suicide for no apparent reason right before Christmas.
I was at a loss for words. Something was definitely amiss.
Fast forward a tad more...
Colour me impotent when it comes to someone verklempt and on the verge of exploding in tears. I am often a whiskey dick when I witness others' emotional breakdown, especially with someone I don't know personally. The same questions always come up: how I'm supposed to feel? Sad? But I don't know these people. Angry? But what am I angry at? And I most certainly don't have a stupid book or ASHY membership to sell.
Of course I went right to the Coles Notes of the yogi bible and checked on yamas and niyamas. Let's see...
Ahimsa or non-violence: Hmm... an eye for an eye, a bullet for a bullet... good idea.
Satya or truthfulness: Push my own agenda and book when people are mourning? That's just low and tasteless even for Sarcastic Yogi.
Asteya or non-stealing: Telling someone what he/she should feel or dismissing his/her feeling is a form of theft. Yeah, I'm looking at you, Crusty Nono Myass.
Brahmacharya or self-imposed celibacy: Fuck that shit!
Aparigraha or non-clinging: Yeah right, tell it to that little piece of toilet paper still on my...
Shaucha or cleanliness: Shower? Detox? Anal douche?
Santosha or contentment: "Be content with that gaping wound and be content with the pus it oozes..."
Tapas or spiritual effort: I am sad and enlightened? WTF?
Svadhyaya or self study: This is what I'm doing right now! Baaah!
Ishvarapranidhana or surrender to The Divine: My pubes in a jar?
It suffices to say I didn't become enlightened or find a Hindu name that I like.
And there's still no answer to how I am supposed to respond or what I am supposed to feel. Of course, typically I would make a joke and try to get out of the awkward situation, similar to how some people get really loud even though they are at fault. In fact those shri-mongering 3A yoga assholes can get really loud when they try to drown out everyone's feelings. Actually right about now the shri-mongers are probably pulling the plugs out of their asses to offer me their compassionate shri shit. Back off, bitches. Don't even try or I'll annihilate you.
I don't think "what I am supposed to feel?" can be answered. I feel what I feel. If I feel sad and angry, I feel sad and angry. If I feel nothing, I feel nothing. If I feel pain the next day, I feel pain the next day. You cannot judge or dismiss someone's feeling, and that's something those shri-mongering assholes don't get. Instead of "what", "why" and "how" are the real questions I am interested in. For example, the only people who should feel sad and angry are those directly involved, either as victims themselves or someone closed to them. Yet many others are just as riled up as if they were the ones who were shot, while sometimes the ones close to victims don't really give a shit. This fascinates me because this goes beyond the herd mentality in a cult where individuals' feelings are snubbed and you just do what everyone else does.
Speaking of cult, the meltdown of 3A yoga inc. aka the Chernobyl of yoga in 2012 most certainly triggered all kinds of emotions and feelings.The truth came out and the assholes were exposed (no pun intended). One of the greatest teachings was not only to find your own voice, but also listen to it and let it speak. Equally important is to not seek approval from false authority like some womanizing pretentious doughy manipulative abusive cult-loving lying cheating asshole guru named John... because you don't need it, and because false authority can only give false approval.
Perhaps the feeling of connection with people we don't even know is a hint to our purpose in the world, or perhaps it is what makes us human. I guess it's our innate nature to experience all aspects of life, whether by paying $15 to see a movie that scares the shit out of you, or by experiencing through someone else's experience like those moms who doll up their daughters to enter beauty pageants.
I've been rambling on for many paragraphs and still don't have an answer to "why do I feel this way?". But I guess it doesn't matter much now because feeling the feelings and taking actions are what's important. You own your feelings and what you want to do about them is up to you. That's my answer to the "how" question.
Someone (he's yummy!) wrote these and I'll share them with you:
By now you are probably wondering this blog is rather tame and borderline sappy. You are right: my sadhana of the month is to not eat meat. I'm practically a monk except I can never stop looking at internet porn. I've also joined Spicy Hello Kitty's asana junkie club which is all about connecting with others on a different level. That should explain the almost non-existent sarcasm in this blog and my interest in emotional connections with people. Rest assured, after having some BBQ short ribs and salmon belly next month, things will be back to normal.
Bring it on, 2013!