More talking trash – BS primero

Here’s the most over-the-top piece of BS I have ever purveyed to a customer.  It’s up against some stiff competition – I do go on – but I think this is genuinely the most outrageous bit of craziness I have slung.

This young woman was having a lot of trouble finding her “Healthy Rewards” frequent shopping card in her wallet.  She was getting pretty frustrated – maybe part of me was just trying to take her off the hook.

“Did they teach you the song?”

“Song?”

“Yeah, the Healthy Rewards song.”

“No.” (What’s going on here?)

“Yeah, the card can get kind of shy in your wallet and the song helps it relax and come out.” (OMG, she’s still kind of buying it!  I can’t believe this.  It’s a little scary to be so far out over my skis, but it’s also a blast!)

“Really?” (This guy is nuts, but I don’t know how to get out of this so I’ll play along.)

“Yeah, let’s try it.”  By the time I actually wrapped my hands around her wallet and started to hum this little made up song, it had all gotten so out of control that I could barely take it.  Then her eyes caught mine and I knew that she had finally woken up from the spell – and we both laughed really hard.

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Talking trash in the checkout line

I don’t know where I got my penchant for bullshit, but definitely one thing that for me helps the day go by at work is saying a lot of stuff that there is no way I mean.

My son was definitely on to this quality of mine at an early age.  I think he was probably ten, maybe twelve, when he heard me giving a line of shit to some friend who was buying it hook, line and sinker.  Now part of the joy of this shit-slinging is to make it so over the top that the receiver could really see right away that they are being teased – but to do it with such feigned seriousness that, unless they know this part of you, they still are sucked in by the story.  When I really had this person way out over the edge and they still had not fully caught on to me, Terry jumped in with lots of enthusiasm.  “No, he doesn’t mean it!  There’s this thing he does – he kind of hesitates a moment before he starts.  This is all made up!” (I don’t think he was openly using the BS word at that age.)

So the other day – the day before Easter – a 60ish female customer was checking out and I had just swiped a plastic container full of olives.  Her male companion teased her, with some background information that I – having no memory of either of them – knew nothing about.  (It’s a little trickier doing bullshit teasing with people you have no history with, but I was on a roll that day.) He asked her, “So do you buy olives every year on the day before Easter?”

I thought he may  already have been teasing her – maybe that’s what inspired me.  I jumped in and answered for her.  “Yes, it’s a Latvian thing” (a long dramatic pause to give them a chance to already catch on that I’m BS’ing, but they apparently were still on the hook: “Where is he going with this?”)  “Yes…”(“There’s this thing he does – he kind of hesitates.”)  “According to the Latvians, if you eat olives the day before Easter, you get good luck for an hour.”

It was the “for an hour” part that was intended to take it so far over the top that the jig is up. And the guy, bless his soul, was such a good little natural improv-person that he immediately gave me an improv “yes…and” response.  “So that would be a good time to buy lottery tickets.”  “Right, but you’ve got to do it within an hour.”  The woman was maybe a little slower to pick up on the joke, but by that point she was definitely following along – though I don’t remember her fully joining in with the fun.  But it was definitely a good time for all three of us.  And especially for me, having just risked some of my favorite kind of humor and had it work out.

Yesterday I was slinging some BS to a couple of co-workers.  Sepi and I had both worked at Greenlife, one of our competitor health-food supermarkets.  Sometimes it’s interesting or fun to compare that store with this one.  We were doing this.  One difference we have frequently noted is that Greenlife – for ten years now a subsidiary of Whole Foods – has more formal policies than our smaller 40-store chain.  I don’t know what got the three of us started on underwear – or in any way suggested that I could take the conversation in this direction – but I said in total apparent seriousness, “Well they do have a policy at Greenlife that you have to wear underwear, but we have no such policy here.”  Sheri Lynn, who has a great sense of humor and, even if she has only spotted the BS in the last little phrase, can pick it up and run with it said, “Well it’s a good thing we don’t have that policy here, because you would clearly be breaking it all the time.”

Sherri Lynn is a few years younger than me, but I moved from improv BS to reminiscing, “When you were growing up, were parents still teaching kids that you had to always wear clean underwear in case you got in an auto accident and they took you to the hospital?”  Sheri Lynn did definitely remember this, though I’m pretty sure if your audience got a little younger, people would just stare at you.

Ah, the things that help the day go by in the checkout line….

Making the world a sweeter place

I really am not giving up on this blog.  I continue to have wonderful experiences at the grocery store, some of which don’t have any obvious hook to the new blog – and I will want to write them up here.  But, honestly, most of my writing energy right now is going to “Releasing the Force: Activism with Heart.”

Here’s this morning’s post, which comes out of my shift yesterday at the grocery store and clearly lives in both worlds.

girl-in-grocery-line

Have you ever gotten to the checkout and realized you had forgotten something?  That’s what happened to McKenzie. 

Kathy Edwards on the Releasing the Force blog

WOW!!! Really, this is truly AWESOME!! I have been feeling so under powered in terms of where to go and what to do with my political integrity, my deep despair, feeling the repressed rage which we all know where that leads …

I feel in this blog (gosh, its so much more than a blog) I have found a connection back to the core of my authenticity. I mean this is like a one stop, feel good shop of vibrant hope! I watched tons of Stephen Colbert, I am definitely going to start coming to the Artist Way, workshops on Monday’s, even ordered the book. I too went to see The Post and was profoundly moved to tears. Your blog made me feel the spirit of so much destiny toward our highest selves our better selves amidst all that is going on.  Gawd I could on here … I am thoroughly impressed with this effort.

New from me – Releasing the Force: Activism with Heart

Dear friend –
 
I have a new project that has me totally excited.  What I really want to say is that I have found my mission – at least for this chapter of my life.
The project is called Releasing the Force: Activism with Heart.  Its purpose is to support people who feel that it might be the right time to get more politically involved, but don’t know where to start – or who feel that the whole mess is too toxic to touch. It also can serve people who already are about as involved as they want to be, but need a shot in the arm.
The project will involve four components:
  1. A new blog!  www.releasingtheforce.com Just launched!  I’m so excited!  It already has so much great content – and there are already lots more blog posts that I have outlined to write.  And it’s beautiful!  Lots of great pictures and links to songs and video.  Subscribe to it in the upper right hand corner, so you will hear by email when a new post is published.
  2. A book with the same name.  Call me crazy, but I want it published by May, in time for it to have some impact on the November elections.  I think that if I self-publish I’m just on fire enough to do that.  I welcome your feedback – but no discouraging words, even if they feel to you like “just reality”.
  3. Public speaking – starting with a four-minute “Gift” at Jubilee this Sunday.  It’s going to be videotaped and I’ll post it on the blog next week. Bring me in to speak to your group!
  4. Activism with Heart coaching from me.  Could be just what you need to get or keep going. Click this link for more to go to that page on my Releasing the Force blog.  Call or write me for more information.

    laughing 2 color

    Activism coaching can support you on your path towards freedom.

Watch for a crowdfunding pitch soon to come.
  • A book is going to cost some money – even if just for editing.
  • So much of this revolves around my computer (it’s my light saber!) – and mine is a ten-year old refurbished beater on its last legs.
  • They are reducing all of our hours at Earth Fare and I can’t make ends meet.  If I take a second or a new job – which I am exploring (anybody know somebody at Trader Joe’s?) – it may wipe me out for this new project.
  • Do you have experience with any of the various crowdfunding platforms? I’d love to hear it.
Got ideas, encouragement or feedback?  Please share.  Write heymajo@gmail.com or call 828-582-9822.
If all you do is bless this project, wish me good things, visualize me being successful, that’s a lot – actually will be awesome.
Thanks,
Majo John

Merry Day After the Day After Christmas

I sing a song of Christmas
All  the things that happened and that didn’t happen
The times I reached out
And the times I kept my mouth shut
Christmas more than any other day
Is so overloaded with meanings
Memories and disappointments
How do we touch the fantasied
Joys of Christmas past?
How do we make up for
All the pain we have endured on this day?
And it’s not just us
All around us – everywhere in our society
Societies
People reaching too high
Being brought too low
If I can get this to happen with this person
I will be vindicated as a person
It will validate my life
Once all these false ornaments
Have fallen off the Christmas tree
What is left?

Today
Today I kept my mouth shut
When I felt the urge to say things
That could have stirred old wounds
Today I completely emptied my storage locker
Itself an exercise in confronting old demons
And tiny Christine, the property manager
Offered, from the goodness of her heart,
To help me of the broken wing
My immobility an assault on my manliness
Not inconsequential
To hoist two boxes into my car
Then did it all by herself
And my hundred dollar monthly payments end today
Today, my therapist Lorrie listened to me
And helped me make sense of all this and more
Helped me understand
That I’m making up all the meanings I put on these things
That I don’t have to do anything to fix these things
That my pain is mine to deal with
That no one needs to heal it
That no one needs to hear it
But maybe my therapist and maybe a good friend
Today my housemate Lucy
A good friend
Listened to me
While I reinforced what I needed to remember from Lorrie
While I sorted out some things that were still not clear
While I praised  myself for some little victories
While I extolled my love for people who have helped me
And people who have pissed me off
Today the guy at Hearn’s Cycles
To whom I took my brother’s old bike

picture-of-old-bicycle
That he gave me when he was dying of cancer
And now it seems that I am never going to ride
And have no place to keep
Which I desperately wanted to save from  the dump
The Hearn’s guy, on whom I dumped all this story
Gave me a strong handshake
Looked me in the eye
And said “Your brother’s bike will have new life.
I promise you this.”

Today, having returned from slaying and being half slain by
All these dragons
At the storage locker and the bike shop and the dump
My little four pound dog Toni
Greeted me like the hero I’ve always tried to be
And in one day have proved so often not to be
And maybe am anyway
She snuggled in my arms
And got very quiet and totally content
In that moment she wanted nothing else
And in that moment, that one blessed moment
Neither did I.

I went to heaven

(I continue to be on sick leave from my broken arm.  Some combination of solitude, newly living in the country with a wonderful housemate, and all the love and support my friends have been pouring out on me seems to have me reflecting on my spiritual life.  Here’s part of the story.)

My early life was quite religious, but never spiritual.  My family life was loaded with trauma and my Catholic schooling was populated with a vengeful God – not a God of love, not a channel for transcendence.

Using marijuana in college (late 60’s) and taking several acid trips in grad school, I started to dismantle my ego.  Each acid trip started with an experience of such intense oneness that I just wanted to stay there – and was followed by my ego fighting back and leading me to terrifying dark places.

Also in graduate school I was exposed to Eastern religion. I was initiated into Transcendental Meditation and that first initiation took me to heaven – the freedom from the ego that I felt with acid, with none of the chaos or loss of control.  But, while I had many more nice experiences during my two years of TM meditation, I never went to heaven again.

Si Chinmoy took me to heaven.  I read Be Here Now by Ram Das (didn’t we all?) and came away from that reading really wanting a teacher.  I never had any sense that the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi of TM might be my teacher, but now I was ready for one.  I was living in upstate New York, but my wife and I had taken jobs in Nova Scotia.  Two weeks before we moved, I went to a yoga retreat at a nearby spiritual center that I had never visited.  I had heard that Ken Pillar, the director of the center, had a reputation as a psychic.  When I walked into the center for the first time, Ken called to me across a large room, “You’re going on a long tip – you’re going to meet your teacher.”

About a month after moving near Amherst Nova Scotia (we bought a little farm house on the Bay of Fundy 20 miles from our jobs in Asheville and in the neighboring Spring Hill), I was looking at a bulletin board in town.  It was devoid of any reference to personal growth, consciousness or Eastern religion.  Except for one poster for the Halifax Sri Chinmoy Meditation Center: “Open meditation Wednesdays at 7 p.m. and Sunday mornings at 10 a.m.  No charge.”

Halifax was about three hours from Amherst.  I called the number on the poster and spoke with a very warm and friendly young man named Jim.  We arranged that I would leave work an hour early the next Wednesday and drive to Halifax, then stay overnight in a guest room at the center and drive back to Amherst the next morning before work.

That next Wednesday I was filled with happy anticipation: I was maybe on the path to meet my teacher!  I understood from Jim that Sri Chinmoy lived full-time in New York City (the Jamaica neighborhood in Queens).  It was a long trip from Halifax, but the “disciples” – which the committed students called themselves –  and other students would frequently pile in a car (lots of drivers) and drive the thirteen hours to New York, so there wold be plenty of opportunity to see “Guru”.  None of this talk of disciples or guru fazed me: I wanted a guru and I was ready to be a disciple.

srichinmoycloseup

Sri Chinmoy

I arrived at the meditation center about 15 minutes early and had some animated chatter with Jim and Harvey, who lived at the center, and about eight other people.  I was told that not all of them were disciples, that there was a special process you went through to become one – and that male disciples were dressed in crisply pressed white shirt and pants, and women in saris.  None of this caused even a bump for me.  I was picturing myself in those white shirts and pants.

Jim explained that Sri Chinmoy’s path followed a Hindu lineage called bhakti yoga – the yoga of love, devotion, and surrender.  This lineage was strong in the part of Bengal where Sri Chinmoy was born, including the Sri Aurobindo ashram where he grew up. The way you meditated was to sit (everybody sat in straight-backed chairs) and look at a table with a tall lighted candle and a picture of the guru in his highest meditation.  You could meditate on the candle flame or the picture.  Because, in the picture, Guru was looking at the divine – the Supreme, our divine father – looking at him could take you there.

Sri Chinmoy meditates

Sri Chinmoy looking at God

When the meditation began, I had a few minutes of restlessness, then got quiet inside.  After two years of TM, 20 minutes twice a day, I did have some skill at quieting my mind.  But I was not prepared for what came next: I went back to heaven!  That experience of transcendence that I had experienced once only in two years of TM was right here again – and if anything even stronger.  I’m not going to try to describe how happy I was.

That night I went to bed filled with peace and happiness.  Even though I was sleeping in a strange place, I slipped easily into sleep – and all night long I had terrifying dreams of a strange Indian guy who was trying to steal my mind! In the morning, I dressed quietly and slipped down the hall to where my shoes would be waiting by the front door – and I could escape.  When I tiptoed past Jim’s room, he called out, “John!” “Yeah.”  “Do you want to meditate?”  “Er, uh, sure.”  I don’t remember what went through my mind as I prepared to meditate.  What I remember with extraordinary vividness is that as my breathing quieted and my body got peaceful and I looked at the picture of  the guru, I went right back to heaven again!

This experience of visiting heaven repeated many times over the next three years on the Sri Chinmoy path – and very seldom in the forty years since I left it.  I’ve had many wonderful experiences, but not that.  As my friend Tom Kilby said to me tonight when I described some of this to him, “Dude, you’ve been to heaven!  What’s up now?  Why are you not going there?”  In this time of solitude and no work and all this love and support flooding in to me, I think I am meant to explore this question.