Well, I don't know about any of you out, but I have never in my pursuit of happiness encountered anything that was in itself, perfect. There are most definitely things that happen, or resources that pop up at the perfect time, objects that are perfect in that time...but there is nothing in this whole world that is perfect. Most cultures around the world who have deep roots in reality and the natural world don't even have a word for perfection. It is an intellectual pursuit, not an emotional or spiritual understanding. We place objects and ideas on a pedestal, just like in a museum, so we can stand back to analyze, critique, and idealize what potential this thing has.
"You can't go around an experience, brother. You've got to go through it."
Let me tell a little story to start. I found myself in New Orleans after a considerable trek across this country, having seen some incredible highs and some unbelievable lows. So many of the highs we experienced were based on people's pursuit of authenticity, whereas the lows were almost always connected with the romanticized pursuit of perfection. Mini-malls and shopping complexes covering the land to curate the perfect shopping experience, so those living nearby would never have to run into the pesky beast of discomfort, which for them would be the perception of poverty. The ironic thing being that the suburbs and urban sprawl, a faux-middle class, are the very mechanisms that create poverty and homelessness. Looking into the eyes of women who literally put on a mask to step out into a world that tells them they have to look and act a certain way, just like those pretty perfect faces in magazines and on billboards, in movies and shows everywhere. So folks start selling out their own health and wellness for the perfect.
Our stay in New Orleans was shaping up to be an amazing time, staying at the India House hostel, which was incredible and the place to be, music happening organically everywhere we carried instruments, conversation springing up from the cracks in the ground, and a high vibration unlike many places in this world. We took the trolly downtown on a Thursday night into the French Quarter, popping into clubs and bars to go and find the sound. We caught a solid female-fronted reggae band, great Jazz and Funk, some good Blues, street corner Hip-Hop-Truth-Fire, and sounds pouring out from every nook and cranny. With the night getting pretty late, 2 or 3am, we hopped into our last stop where we found a very normal funk band who were at least holding it down. A cat got up and belted Superstitious by Stevie Wonder and ended the set on a good note for sure.
Leaving and thinking our night was coming to a close, somewhat disappointedly, one of the ladies we were with forgot her phone in the club and had to go back for it. When you start losing shit, that's when doors really open up. They came back and informed us that we had all been invited to come chill at a tucked in spot with a heated pool and salt water hot tub. Of course. So we all roll over to the spot and are met by an incredibly interesting little corner of the city, with a fire pit and groovy pool, open bar, and decent sound system. Good vibes, plus rarely do we ever say no to a tripped out experience.
The crowd hanging out was fascinating. Cream-skinned and plump people abounded, kind of like some Greco-Roman throwback experience. The men were really quite cherub-like, and the women were like strange ghosts in the whole scene. Definitely a boys club. But the cat who sang Stevie was there, so we sparked a spliff and got down to it. Him and I immediately began vibing and talking about things on the realer side of life. He was traveling and spreading the music love, but I could tell that he was grounded in the heart. After a minute, I decided to lead the charge into the pool, so I got naked (when in Rome, or pseudoRome) and hopped in. Swimming around and chatting with the cats in the hot tub, I started asking them what made them tick. The answers were as I expected, idealized notions of decadent living. This was just a pedestrian stop for them on their endless journey to the top, but it was good for now.
It was becoming more and more clear to me that this was where the night's lesson would be. The veil was becoming thinner and thinner by the moment and the lesson that was coming through was all about the perception of perfection. Here was a group of characters who were obviously taken care of, had what they needed and much much more, but were dissatisfied with it all still. And to top it off, apparently the pool we were swimming in had a name. The Pool of Souls. The story goes that when digging up the spot for the pool, they found a whole mess of graves underneath, and since exhuming all of those pesky graves was too expensive, they decided to remove some and form the pool around the remaining coffins. Of course! Buried culture in your way? Fuck it, let's build a pool! So the cherubs were chilling in a graveyard, getting high on decadence, standing on the souls of others to get that much closer to the top. When the lessons come, they are really coming.Just about that time, in perfect synchronicity, the fella with the spliff comes over and asks me if I liked the song Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. I said of course, and all my friends do too in fact. So we all took a moment to sing the song together, embrace the love in it all, and cut through the remainder of the veil with that gentle and beautiful liquid sword. So for the next couple of hours, we all talked about the heart inside of everything, our divine purpose for being there, and how beautiful it feels to be in love with love and life. I found the difference between me and decadent even melted away, and rather than looking at it as the enemy, it just became part of the process. A step on the journey, something to get beyond. The murderer becoming the saint after realizing what an awful course they have led, but if they were never the murderer they could never have been the saint. You dig? The folks indulging, the difference and whatever anger I was feeling towards them was escaping me. Truth inside of everything is divine, the walls we put between us and it are matters of perception.
The souls in the courtyard were speaking loud and clear now as well. Having tuned into the voices beyond, there was really one resounding sentiment, which was that no matter how much the uncomfortable men of this world try to pave over, sterilize, and clean away the diverse and deep culture of the world...it will always spring through the cracks in their pavement. Every time. But they also implored me to spread the word that there is a sickness in this world. And it is the need to run from the real. I mean, that's it, right? Mini-malls, make-up, fast cars, big houses, security systems, pop music, microwavable food, etc. etc. These things, in themselves, are acts of running. Covering. Keeping the truth of feeling just out of arms reach.
As the sun started to come up, we decided it was probably best to move on, so we packed up and jumped out of the little vortex we had been chilling in, back to the city streets of Nawlins. Countless delivery trucks with alcohol and far-away food, black and brown men toiling, tired eyes looking right through me, trash barges, trains filled with oil, garbage on river shores. The shadow that is the pursuit of perfection, it is all around us. Walk anywhere in this country and you will see the result of our collective need for comfort. I am certainly by no means exempt from this. I don't know many people who are. If you drive a car, shop at the grocery, buy clothes at the store, order products online, whatever it may be...that simple action imposes degradation on the remainder of the world solely so we can curate and manicure the perfect life. Look at it. Don't roll your eyes.
Our story really peaks at Cafe Du Monde. There was a gal in our group that with the best intentions wanted to go have a Cafe and Beignets at the spot. The rest of the group was a bit apprehensive, me actually trying to steer us away, but we were supposed to purge something. So we jumped in. Sitting down, the waitress asked if we wanted six coffees and beignets, which we all promptly replied that there was only one order. You could see our friend and the waitress were in an awkward growth moment, but se la vie. Coffee and Beignet arrived, or awful acrid juice and funnel cake really. I could see the wheels were turning in her heart, and this little fairy tale about what the perfect New Orleans experience is supposed to be was slipping through her hands like sand. As a Buddha I met living on the streets of Springfield once told me, "You can't go around an experience, brother. You've got to go through it."
After it was all settled, the discomfort passed, we all said jah bless and most of us parted ways. Will, our Aztec spirit-guide Larissa, and myself decided that we needed some more low key people watching, so our journey finished up at a spot called the Ruby Slipper. Ha! We sat down and just kind of unpacked the evening, talked about our need to be closer with our spirit and purpose, the divinity of the feminine, and ultimately just laughing our faces off about the comedy unfolding constantly in front of us. But my reflection at the end of it all is this:
Our pursuit of perfection, the need to fulfill a conditioned fairy tale....not only does this degrade our own spirit and purpose, taking us further and further from our personal truth, it also imposes a radically destructive culture onto the rest of this world. Ecological collapse is upon us because we can't step outside of our fairy tale. Life has to look like this and I am willing to do whatever it takes to get there. If you sit in silence and think about how so much of what surrounds you is part of the story you've created, then follow that to the cost upon someone else's shoulders that your wants create, it becomes quite transparent that our dreams turn other people's lives into nightmares.
Let go of the story in your mind and sit in the absolute now. Piece by piece you will shed the wants and get down to the needs. Besides, the less time you spend wanting, the more time you can devote to giving. Tis the season, right?
