Back when I was guru hopping, I went to see yet another visiting, living saint in my hair-on-fire pursuit of... what was I pursuing? I don't even remember. Enlightenment? Freedom from suffering? Some hoped for supreme good-enoughness. When I arrived the sanctuary was draped in flowers and shrouded in silence. All the devotees were gnawing on greens and clad in white with a sort of pained, trying-hard-to-be-spiritual expression that looked more like constipation combined with penitent guilt and sadness, overlaid with a thin smile. In a very short time I realized I needed to leave before I began stripping down to sexy nothingness, swigging whiskey and cursing like a sailor in some existential rant to balance the multitudes. For all the seekers out there, I have a gentle and groundbreaking reminder... there is no spiritual journey... no far shore on which to arrive... T H I S I S I T. I know that pisses the mind off. F**k you Angelina! Minds are conditioned to be dissa