SPIRITUALITY: Impersonating Jed McKenna

Impersonating Jed McKenna
By Jed McKenna

"Nobody is prophet in his own country.

That line keeps running through my mind as I sit at a lunch with my sister who I have not seen in several years. These days I'm the guy lit, but I'm her only boy boys who could not have eye contact when she wore a bikini.

And 'summer '01 and we're at lunch in Manhattan. Read a preview copy of bloody and had a few months to digest. It 'was very nice of her to read it because it is not really the kind of thing. It is a good citizen, a successful executive, wife, mother, a Republican, tennis nut, Christian-ish, and all-round productive members of society. (He once told me that he was raising his children to be productive members of society and a face so strong that nearly chipped a tooth.) She is a wonderful person, but not a member of the demographic the book speaks.

There is a plate of chilled pasta and a salad in front of me in front of her. We're both drinking iced tea. He runs the creative side of a medium sized advertising agency, I have no doubt she is very good. Is taking time on a tight schedule to have lunch with me. After this I go to the park to lie on the grass and watch people play with their dogs.

Visiting your sister and lunch should not be an ordeal of confusion, but it is. She is really my sister? What does it mean? We share some 'history and acquaintances, such as children and parents. My parents are really my parents? Are genetically related to my body, but the person who lived my childhood is no longer here. I share the past with this person is as real and important to me as if I had read in a brochure.

The problem is that these people, my family are all related to my shell, and I'm not. They are looking outside Jed McKenna and assuming an interior Jed McKenna. I'm in Jed McKenna looking out and I do not remember what he had to do or say. It 's all false. I'm an actor playing a role with which I feel no connection and have no motivation. There can be anything genuine in my relationships with people who have to do with my outer garment. (The whole thing is further entangled with the fact that there is no "I" inhabiting the mine shell, just a fading echo, but let's not go down that road right now.)

Actually, not really confused. I do not have the slightest shred of doubt about who and what they are. The hard thing is that who and what I do is connected to this beautiful, professional-woman eating salad in front of me. In coming to this dinner, I added in a situation where I belong. I am an imposter. I have some residual love for my sister and I would be sad if she died thinking that she was no longer in the world, but the fact is that our previous report no longer exists.

Okay, then why I say this?

Why is what I do. I try to keep this thing for the display and this seems an interesting aspect of the whole deal. How to relate to people who were most important to you before awakening from the dream of the segregated self?

Asks why I'm in town.

"My astrologer told me it was the right time to get away and not try to accomplish something. They said that Rahu and Ketu is not letting me do anything for a while 'anyway ..."

I look up and see that she has stopped chewing in mid bite and looked at me incredulously.

"What?"

"My astrologer ..."

"You're not serious. You have astrologers?"

Oh yeah. I guess that sounds weird. I was vaguely aware that I was trying to be funny by starting a sentence with "My astrologer told me ..." but what is a bit 'funny to me is another world for her. Could also have fun with it.

"I have dozens of astrologers. I can not swing a dead cat without hitting someone who's doing my chart or explaining how will my future, advised me on almost everything."

His expression does not change. "You have astrologers?"

"Lots. Gotta beat 'em off with a stick."

"And say ... you say what the future holds? What should I do? When you should do? What you should avoid? That 's what we are talking about?"

"I guess."

Resumes chewing but wide-eyed gaze remains. There is a chasm in this conversation through which it is useless to try to communicate. She knows I'm in some serious weirdness, but not how much or what kind. I do not have astrologers, of course, but in those days did seem like I was surrounded by students from Eastern and Western astrology who were always very eager to share their readings.

"What are you doing with all this information?"

"I? Nothing. I mean, do not ask for it. Not so I wake up and summon the court astrologers to plan my day."

"Sounds like you do."

"I was speaking lightly.

I'm trying to skip merrily along the surface of this conversation. I do not want to sink into the kind of response that would give a serious student. The truth is that I do not have any mechanism that would allow me to be curious or concerned about the future, but saying that is not for breezy conversation.

"Jesus," he says, shaking his head. "My brother has his own astrologers."

'Well, not really mine.'re Only in the presence, so to speak. "

I'm used to communicate with people who are not awake and not happy. Everything else is talk, talk for the sake of talking, reinforcing the illusion of self. I'm not against it, I do not care to participate. My fault.

"So, it is obviously a big influence on your students," he says, sipping his iced tea. I mull her statement over and decide that I do not have an answer. I take another bite of pasta, wishing I'd ordered something with meat.

"I mean," he says, "have obviously held in high esteem. This is a great responsibility."

She thought, understandably, she is my sister and we're having a meeting, a nice little catch-up lunch. It 'been thrown a curve with this thing little-brother/spiritual-master and is trying to handle it. Do you think I'm a fraud? Do you think I'm running a game? And you think that deep down I'm still very much her little brother? I do not know and I do not care much. The fact that she is damn light does not mean that you and I can speak, it means you need to know that we can not. She does not seem to be clear on this point. Maybe she thinks the enlightenment thing is just my day job and I can leave that role to be with someone who knows the real me.

"I do not know. I suppose it's a responsibility."

"You do not know? Obviously these people are strongly influenced by you. I do not think it's a great responsibility?"

Shrug. The first thing I said when we got together was that I was not dressed well enough for the restaurant. That statement is so alien to me that I could only shrug. Now it seems that every statement it makes is so alien to me that I can only shrug.

By accepting this lunch engagement, my hope was that I could slip back into my person old enough to manage a civil meal. It 's been too optimistic. I can not represent me and are simply unable to formulate a response to everything he has to say, I forgot my lines. We do not share a common language and there is no way to make them understand that. From his point of view saying perfectly normal, conversational things.

"Yes, I suppose that is a big responsibility," I say, trying to say something that sounds like I'm saying something.

She lowers her voice. "You hear a lot about people in his position taking advantage of that responsibility for disgusting .... I hope you would never do such a thing."

I could just tell her what the preview copy of the book was to tell her that we are no longer related because what they are now not relate. But why say it? To satisfy myself? It would not. About her? It would not.

"You mean sex stuff? Sort of thing?"

"Whatever. Power corrupts. I just hope that you will be careful."

Sweet. Big Sister giving little brother some advice on how to shoulder the burden of power. Being in advertising, maybe you think we have something in common; handle the power to influence people's thoughts. Maybe he thinks we are in the same business, I do not know.

I set my fork and sit down. 'Well, when I walk home, I always carry somebody with a boom-box playing Darth Vader theme music to give a heavy air and threatening to my approach. And I certainly do not dress like this. I, You know, clothes, beads, and I always carry fresh flowers. Just trappings, all very boring, really, but the minions expect it. There was a little resistance at first to have them call me Shri Shri Shri Shri Jed but got the hang of it. And remembering to speak in first person plural and singular, no human can take some 'getting used to, but there are, I mean, uh, me, happy to make this effort. Noblesse and to oblige. "

She stares for a moment, then bursts out laughing. I guess some ice has broken because we are able to continue in a more gentle and friendly, and eventually say goodbye with genuine affection.

I doubt I'll ever see her again, but I'm happy knowing that she is still in the world.

McKenna, Jed