Day 12: Enter The Woo

There isn’t a whole lot to say about day 12. It was an eclipse day. Not that it could be seen from Idaho Falls, but its energy can be felt everywhere. Eclipses are days for laying low and hiding out. This is according to my favorite astrologer Chani Nicholas. Yes, I have a favorite astrologer. I also consult a clairvoyant, believe in reincarnation, think out-of-body experiences are possible, and I sometimes receive signs.

My buddy Kyle likes to accuse me of being a SNAG. Which, according to the Guide to Hippy Watching in North America, is a Sensitive New Age Guy.

From the guide:

SENSITIVE NEW AGE GUY (SNAG) 

Genus Name: Superior Aireioris 

Also known as: Sensitive Ponytail Dude (SPD), That Creepy Guy at 
Whole foods 
Geographic Location: Primarily the west coast 
Habitat: Vipassana retreats, Whole Foods, yoga studios 

Dietary Preferences / feeding grounds: Goji berries, bee pollen, 
flower essences 
Average Age: 25-35+ 


The Superior Airioris or “Snag” as they are affectionately referred 
to amongst avid hippie watchers is an elusive and seldom seen member 
of the snag family, yet are highly rewarding once spotted. Your 
chances of a snag sighting the wild are greatly increased if you know 
where to go and which tell-tale signs to look for. In America they 
are most frequently found near new-age spiritual workshops, yoga 
classes, and occasionally in small town co-ops. Since all these 
places tend to be gathering grounds for many varieties of other types 
of hippies it is helpful to remember the distinctive markings of a 
Sensitive New Age Guy. The first sign to look for is an air of 
superiority and smugness. Once spotted, dress should then be noted: 
Sanskrit Scarves, full print t-shirts with Indian deities, and a 
propensity towards monkishness are all strong indicators that you 
may have indeed landed yourself a snag. Additionally, you can hang 
out near where the Goji Berries and Kombucha are stocked to 
increase your chances of a sighting. 

Sightings of the mating rituals are extremely rare and subject 
to much folklore and hearsay. What IS known for sure is 
that conversation with the opposite sex is usually struck up 
in a very soft tone of voice, by casually offering an offhand 
piece of arcane knoweldge from the gurus implied immense 
knowledge of all things esoteric & spiritual. At some point 
an observation may be offered that the female looks tense 
and could use a therapeutic shoulder massage. In a most 
artful manner the hands are seconds later upon the 
shoulder or neck easing her tensions thus beginning the 
first steps of the Snag’s sly mating dance. Sometimes 
a female will resist his charms and deviously the 
snag will retreat into a platonic and understanding 
role with the female from which further attempts 
will be soon launched. The snag is persistent and 
knows no shame and because of this is relatively 
successful in “worshipping the goddess” (as they 
euphemistically refer to the mating session). 
Though not much is known for sure about the 
actual mating itself, it is known that in 9 months 
they, much like all other snags, end up with the 
worlds most beautiful Indigo Child. 

It should be noted that the flashy display and boldness 
that the Snag is known for fades once conquered by the 
female and he often looks broken and defeated with a look of 
wonderment that says “how did I end up here?” 
n the absence of females a Snag will sometimes fraternize 
with members of his own sex but often times only for the 
sake of flouting his knowledge or as he prefers to think of it 
“spreading the consciousness” and maintaining his superiority. 
If by chance a group of male snags are in discussion it should 
be noted that most of them will walk away thinking they are the 
smartest one of the lot.

Lol

Doesn’t really fit, aside from hanging out at Whole Foods. Though, I have initiated more than one make-out session with an offer of a massage. And I do have a ponytail…

JK, I don’t have a ponytail. But this guy does. JP Sears, the internet’s most infamous snag.

Recommendation: stick to his earlier videos making fun of snagdom, they’re pretty spot on, especially the Ultra Spiritual Life series (the yoga videos, dear lord). Avoid his later videos, they are increasingly resentful and conspiratorial. I think someone got red-pilled.

When I was living at the East Blair Housing Co-op in Eugene I was friends with this really funny grad student, Rosalie. She and a friend of hers came up with an idea for a tv show, Snags in Space. The premise of the show is that all of the women of earth leave to go start their own colony on a different planet. The men of earth don’t care, aside from a small subset of goddess-worshipping snags who build a rocketship and venture into space in search of the sacred Yoni. I want this to exist so badly. I would nominate Christopher Guest to write and direct it. The comedic potential… it makes me laugh just thinking about it.

So yeah, Day 12. Hiding inside from the energetic vacuum of the eclipse. Writing. Taking naps in the Dan-cave. Occasionally using the hot tub. My aunt and uncle have two hot tubs. Which made me think of this line from Back to the Future when Loraine’s kid brother, circa 1955, is awe-struck after Marty says he has two televisions “TWO televisions, you must be rich!” I couldn’t help but feel that way when I discovered my relatives had two hot tubs. They also have six televisions, four cars (including a sportscar), a fifth wheel, an atv, and maybe a boat? The funny part is that they would never consider themselves rich. But by 1950’s standards they’re loaded. By Millenial standards they’re classic well-off Boomers.

It’s funny, how relative these things are. I was just thinking this morning about refrigerators with ice machines. It wouldn’t take that much, here in America, to get oneself a refrigerator with an ice machine. Most people could pretty easily secure one if it was a priority. However, historically speaking, access to ice in places where it doesn’t exist naturally was incredibly rare and exclusive to only the wealthiest and most powerful. So was safe and comfortable travel outside of your city or region. So was Jello (before it was called Jello). There’s so much we take for granted. For all of his flaws and transgressions, the comedian Louis C.K. makes a really astute point in one of his bits: everything is amazing and nobody is happy.

I remember listening to an interesting podcast conversation with a social psychologist about taking things for granted. I can’t recall enough specifics to locate it, but the gist was that this is a fundamental part of human nature. Habituation gets us accustomed to circumstances until they become the status quo, and then our mental energy gets directed elsewhere. I think part of the working theory was that quickly assimilating new circumstances into our conception of normal helped humans adapt and survive in times when we were more frequently subjected to major disruptions: natural disasters, food shortages, endless tribal warfare, etc. However, in times of rapid expansion, technological progress, and relative peace and stability our minds still hold this function. That means that means that instead of staying in a state of awe and reverence for our collective advances, they quickly become entitlements, part of the background of everyday life, things we even complain about. Being in a chair in the sky, something formerly reserved for Greek gods, is worthy of our frequent disdain and of our far less frequent appreciation.

I had good reason to hold extra-normal appreciation for my road trip east. It was the nominal relation to the historic, arduous, lengthy, and deadly Oregon Trail that gave me cause to consider the relative ease and comfort of my own trip. Were there things that were frustrating about the journey? Sure there were, mostly caused by the anxiety of potentially losing employment. But always in the back of my mind was that compared to the poor schlubs trekking west in the 1850’s I had it so easy. Cushy, really. I got lots of dysentery jokes from friends and strangers, but I never got dysentery. I never had to hunt for my meals, at most I waited 20 minutes once while someone cooked my meal for me. I was protected from the elements, I only got wet when it was fun and convenient. I could regulate the temperature of my environment, I chose the exact degree of warmth or coolth at every moment. In my pocket was a thin slab of sand and metal that spoke to me, it told me where to find the things I needed and exactly how to get there. It carried the voice and images of my family through the air across thousands of miles. It contained the entire human history of recorded music for me to enjoy whenever I wanted. Barely expending more caloric effort than it takes to breathe, I barreled across multiple state lines in a single day. Hundreds of miles in a matter of hours. Not days. Not months. Not years. Hours.

Anyone brought forward from the past would think we were demi-gods or sorcerers, capable of magic. And yet, somehow, we’re indifferent to the incredible power, access, and resources available to us. Even perversely resentful of it at times. Which begs the question, what is actually responsible for human happiness and thriving? If we can live like mythological figures and still be miserable, what exactly are we missing?

I think that Abraham Maslow more or less nailed it with his hierarchy of needs:

Though, I think there is one thing that is glaringly absent from this list, and largely absent from the modern era. And that is to act in service of a higher purpose, a larger cause, beyond oneself. To put ones talents, skills, knowledge towards the betterment of the whole. To help for the sake of being helpful, not for personal gain, wealth accumulation, attention, or any other self-focused motive. Human history is peppered with accounts of those who’ve sought worldly trappings, found them unfulfilling, and redirected their attention to helping others. By their telling, nothing else is more deeply satisfying to one’s soul than selflessly working for the benefit of others.

There’s so much to distract us. Especially now, while we carry brilliantly engineered attention-capturing devices on our person at all times. The voices in our minds, the voices in society, telling us that we’re not enough. We need, need, need… fill in the blank. But it doesn’t fill the void, it can’t. It was never designed to. It’s designed to keep us seeking more of what doesn’t work.

Too much is not enough.