You’ll never be/date Britney Spears

Reading time ~ 7 minute(s)

Or Brad Pitt. Never. Assuming you want to. If you don’t, read no further, because your unhappiness does not come from such trivial matters.

So, you day-dream and you yearn and your eyes keep getting wet and your heart pounds faster when you think of/see your new found idol. You imagine how you could make everything perfect for him/her if only this shitty life gave you a chance. Maybe you see yourself walking in their godly shoes, maybe you see yourself as being thought of by millions as you think of your idols. You sigh and watch those dear movies and concerts, you buy the DVDs, the memorabilia and so forth. You’re a fan. That makes you a fanatic. That is to say you have come to idolatrize an image. Make no mistake, this image is of your own making; they suggested it to you and you infused it with your ill-channelled hopes and dreams, as always taking the easy way towards cheap self satisfaction. You crossed the line between entertaining yourself and tormenting yourself with the unreachable. This you did for what even a superficial analysis reveals as being nothingness. Please aknowledge that you just managed to fill the void from within with some nothingness from outside! Congratulations. I’ve once watched a show about Madonna’s (oh, what a pun!) fans. I was particularly struck by this young, beautiful woman that was a die-hard devotee. She collected everything she could get her hands on, related to her goddess, she had all the albums and compilations, T-shirts and posters, everything. She was young, truly beautiful and popular amongst her friends. She was a hell of a woman, if you ask me. She could have been someone’s goddess herself, easily. Her face inspired. Yet she strangely chose to be only some fan, with an entire existence revolving around Madonna. That was all she talked about. She once saw her idol up-close. That’s where her young life peaked. And gave her something fabulous to talk about. She didn’t look happy at all. She looked hysteric.

Have you ever picked up a guitar? Have you ever wrote some lyrics or played with a piano’s keys? Why didn’t you?! Who stopped you? Why didn’t you make up your own music? Why did you choose delusion over inspiration?

Britney Spears transformation
Everything is impermanent. What you wrongfully worship is actually no better and no happier then you. What fools and deludes you will always be just the product wrapper.

In the end, this is really simple stuff:
you are to some degree empty; that subliminally hurts; the desire to fill the void arises as a requirement for some urgent therapy; from the void within you cannot extract anything therapeutic, at least not without some fierce struggle; you reach outwards and grasp whatever is readily available, as you would readily swallow anxiolytic medication instead of forcing your mind into picturing a calm sea; readily available in the outside world are the paper idols that you see everywhere, on your soda canMariah Carey Pepsi or on the buses and buidings; you go for it and put your mind and soul at work with it; you think you’re filling that void – you’re not, you’re just having your mind grind nothingness as a mean to forget about the initial painful problem; this activity causes its own pain, does it not? You now want to be/date/meet/breath Britney Spears. Nevertheless, this pain is sweet compared to the suffering inner emptiness carries. This is the top level trade you made: you switched the nature and degree of pain. All good and understandable so far. Except you’re now delusional and addicted and still void.

I understand you. They made it almost perfect – you were given really slim chances in this game of sales and marketing. They’re now serving you your idol as they’re selling others Prozac. Do you despise Prozac addicts? You’re no better. Your drug is not chemical in nature, that’s all. To make a point, I would like to reffer to the “Justin Timberlake” product. A next-generation-top-of-the-line entertainer upgrade. Perfectly wrapped and presented to you. Like many others. You no longer hear the music, you’re mesmerized by the looks and moves. If you’re a “she”, you’re libido inflates and you don’t even know what keeps you glued to the TV – it’s you’re own old-as-the-world desire to mate and reproduce with the alpha male – and you don’t even know what it is that doesn’t let you be indifferent to Justin. That’s how powerful this latest upgrade is. Music is supposed to speak to the soul. The marketers discovered (and what a discovery that was) that souls are a scarce market nowadays. So now music speaks directly to your erogenous organs. Imagine the number of worldwide erections in front of TVs displaying Christina Aguilera showing-off in mud. How come there are no ugly musicians around anymore? Therefore, I do understand you. They’re now messing with your primal and most uncontrollable instincts, so your chances are truly slim.

I’m no saint, you know that. I’ve seen and done a lot, as beautifully as I could. I never rejected a meal, a beer, a cigarette or a woman. I’m no guru, either. I cannot pretend that I have the practical solutions to everything and, as a matter of fact, I’ve put it all together in this ten pages wonder book of mine that you can purchase from my other (commercial) site… that would suck very, very much and it would be truly sick and sickening (though I found the ultimate purpose of life – see below). I’m not a prophet. I do not speak in the name of another. Also, I am not a clairvoyant. I cannot tell you what will be and how will it happen. What I am is a healer. At least I give it my best.

What good will it do to stick your face into your delusion and make a fool out of you without showing you a way out? That would make me a clergyman. I am not. So, without selling you mystical nothingness, let me say that there is only one way out: live doing good while feeling good. Instead of staring at the TV screen, crying about Justin, get together with one of the boys next door – one of them will surely suite you perfectly and he might even look after your soul. Instead of salivating all over Britney’s latest video, get together with your girl, grab some beers, talk about the world and then make love like rabid bunnies. Got no girlfriend, yet horny as hell? Grab one of those magazines that don’t lie to you and enjoy yourself. There is no shame in that – it is up front honest. Shameful is the hidding of pornography in today’s non-adult entertainment productions, whether songs, videos etc., shameful is the way they play with your groin instead of entertaining your mind and soul.

In a nutshell
, you will never be happy as long as you keep idolatrizing that which is not worthy of a spit. The yogis of the old (the original ones, not the monkeys we see today) welcomed sanitizing of one’s mind by meditation. They also introduced worship as a form of meditation (Bhakti Yoga, the Yoga of Devotion), with practices, manifestations and (supposed) results far from those in the practice of Britney worship. Therefore, aknowledge that the need to worship exists in you inherently (that’s what those selling you Justin base their marketing strategies on) – but be careful what you worship. The buddhists advocate the utter immersion into immediate reality, the seeing of things as they truly are (as opposed to charlatans using techniques that make the ming further delude itself and pretend that is meditation). This is not hard, at a superficial level, simply try to ALWAYS SEE THINGS AS THEY TRULY ARE – you will then realize that you are being fooled, you’ll see that it is more honest and beneficial even to grab a dirty magazine than mistaking your soul for you groin. To keep them innocent and sane, the Lord forbade humans to sculpt idols – yet humans made a golden calf and worshiped it as a god, as if it wasn’t made by themselves from garbage, as if it wasn’t so much less then themselves. Today, thousands of years passed, you and billions along are doing exactly the same, with your idols of flesh. Your subliminal unhappiness will never cease this way. It will only grow in new and sick ways, getting harder and harder to escape.

Right now, as if glorious truths have made their way into this document, the skies cleared, their’re now bright blue, after long days of gloominess with not a single window for the sun. Maybe there is an universal something that senses us and that opened the gates of the sky for me, the wanna-be truth speaker. Right now, among my own worries and sins, I feel blessed.

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