June 7th, 2014
Your clothes are old. Even if you bought them seconds ago, they’ve probably already gone out of style, and people are definitely judging you for wearing that jean jacket… syke! They’re totally not.
Apologies for my absence to the three of you who read my blog. Two days after writing the previous post, Ray Fiennes—Voldemort, himself—comes into my restaurant. Needless to say, I was a little spooked. It begged me to ask, how much of this world am I writing into existence?
Regardless, I hope you’ve taken this brief reprieve to note that you aren’t cool anymore. That iPhone? Out of date. U can haz cheezburger? Nope nope nope nope nope. Beards are on the way out, too—that’s a head’s up. Social order has turned into a flocking dance of pigeons from one fallen seed to the next, the older pigeons feigning indifference toward their own inability to keep up, secretly wishing it was, you know, like it “used to be,” notably, in a world where they themselves were young, hip, and agile.
The only difference between now and then and further then is the speed with which ideas, trends, and opportunities spread. We have truly entered into the “Aquarian Age,” individuality forgone for the sake of mass collective hive minds. The Queen, in this case, is social acceptance itself, an inevitable turning point in learning that, as humans—and further, all life—we’re all bound by blood, part of the same interconnected web of life.
As Mercury enters another current of retrograde, we might ask what latent notions hiding in our mind palaces would best be deleted. A giant gust of transition has blown up from the underbellies of perception, and these opportunities rarely come with such form. The last time I’ve personally felt this amicable to change was in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy in New York City.
At the time, I was staying with a friend in the Lower East Side, and we experienced the fullest extent of the blackout. New York City had never been in such supreme silence. Bars stayed open in glistening candlelight, and people seemed to, like, care, and stuff. Bloomberg noted the Occupy movement as having a quicker, more efficient relief effort than the Red Cross. My faith in the city was reinvigorated by the new connections and opportunities that came in the wake of making space.
I’ve noted it in the past: in order to accept new blessings, one must make room. Conceptualize all you want about making emotional or psychological shifts, the greatest response comes from an interactive, three-dimensional relationship with the world. Yeah, that means throwing out your old damn clothes.
Chances are, if you have to think about whether or not you need it, you don’t. Please spare me the indulgence of agreeing with me and rather do something about it.
Maybe you have three pairs of hoodies. You only really need one hoodie. Maybe you want some variety. Ok, pick two hoodies, and give one to a homeless shelter, or something. That gives you room to get a new hoodie, and now someone who might be cold is now warm. Life will never be short of hoodies. And when you die, that’s it. No more hoodies. Sentimentality be damned.
Take a day and reset your life. In spite of sounding like an idiot, say, “Ok, this is my reset day.” Force yourself to get rid of everything. Be aggressive with deletion. Trade in games to get store credit. Mercury retrograde is the perfect time not for letting go, but letting in, and recognizing the supreme complexity of life by itself (that’s without stuff) and the architecture of this divine universe that seems to want to give us everything, if only we had the sense to make room for it.
Perhaps nature felt that New York City needed a jolt, and Sandy was sent to make room. This is our reality. Listen to the signs, go within, and make conscious space. Otherwise, a force greater than you’d like might come around to shake things up for you.
The universe is completely amoral, indifferent to what we value as sacred. To the universe, everything is sacred, and so the ant carries the same weight as an elephant. There is no difference between what is destroyed, created, or sustained. Why not take the time, then, to choose how to write your story?
We’ve emerged from a harsh winter. Do something for yourself—your actual self—for once. Note: Rocko’s Modern Life will always be cool.