Every now and again you need to view the world from a different perspective. So we took ourselves off to the Celebrate Life Festival. I mean, when you are asked a question like this: ‘Are you feeling out of whack, lacklustre and slightly off-centre?’, how can you not answer ‘yes’, ‘yes’, and ‘YES’. And anyway, feeling ‘out of whack’ is better than feeling ‘whacked’, at least in Tony Soprano’s world.
It’s difficult to read the sign behind Greg’s head. It says: ‘ACADEMY OF ENLIGHTENMENT’. Clearly, he needs to pay this academy a brief visit because a few minutes later I saw him giving out his name, email address AND cellphone number to a woman running a ‘Metavarsity’ (granted, a more catchy name than UCT), who would soon send him an animal spirit meditation and a personal inspiration message, based on the number 14.
The things with these places is that one is always waiting for something to happen, the penny to drop, the world to shift on its axis. One is looking for the big experience – after which nothing is the same again. I sat with the kids listening to ‘Marvelous Mouth Chris’, who played a very strange musical instrument – you can see it on his lap – before he spoke at length about Nostradamus and breathing. He told us that you can think of the seer’s name as a play on words – it’s ‘Nostril-damus’.
I quite liked the music, which was rhythmic and soothing, and I found my mind stopped skittering neurotically around, at least momentarily. I guess that might be one of the functions of art – a soothing soporofic, like warm horlicks at night, although I do tend to prefer my art a little bit more edgy.
The kids seemed happy enough with motormouth Chris or perhaps it was the popcorn. Either way, I thought it was good of the kids to provide a few more bums on seats.
And then as a final treat we went to listen to a talk on Past Life Regression therapy. The presenter was lovely. The slide at the front says, ‘That was Then; This is Now.’ I quite warmed to the whole concept – it seemed like a concrete manifestation of Freud’s idea of the unconscious. Something happened long ago and this causes some kind of blockage, but the person doesn’t understand what that blockage is about. Perhaps the reason I’m the way I am has nothing to do with my mother or my father but is rather a result of working long hours as a French maid in the Palace of Versailles, just as the French Revolution was about to happen. Who can say? It could be true.