A Nation of Godfathers and Jokers
Enough.
Dahling,
How do you determine the false from the true?
Do you practice?
We must practice discernment in this world, and disconnect the riff from the raff. We must sort through the mess of our minds and what is put before us on any given day. The way to do that first, is to find the false and the true inside ourselves.
We need to sit with who we are inside. Breathe. Be aware. Notice. And keep coming back for more of that truth.
When we can acknowledge our own true self, our own false self—the parts in us that hold back, the parts in us that help us move forward…. Well, then we see the all of who we are and determine whether we like being with this person, our Self. Our highest version. We can begin to better sort through what is outside of us, too.
An outside-in practice is a dangerous one. “Outside-in” practices are how you lose your soul. Therefore one who watches, one who learns, one who listens, from the inside-out—one who is sincere and pure of heart—must first step away from the crowd and the noise on a regular basis and sort through the system and world inside himself or herself.
We all have energy fields, dimensions and ghosts we carry. Ancestry. Memories. Surroundings. One who is sincere and pure of heart asks, “Where am I in this? What is other people—where are the ghosts of another time—and what is me?”
Yes. Yes.
I say all this, my little ShishkaBarbara, because we are surrounded by iconic images of men in cinema that are not really heroes, are not worthy of the reverence they are given as leaders. They are often just thugs put on posters and walls and held up as saints, or something.
The Tortured American Male. Heartless and Shadowy. Perturbed.
In the foundations of cinema, he is everywhere. Are we really going to continue with a culture of the grotesque when it comes to masculinity?
It is so unnecessary. Because there is such love and grace to be found in the tender masculine who is whole and healthy, wise and compassionate and solid in heart.
For instance, I think The Godfather is an amazing work of art. I can’t stop watching this Coppola jawn when I see it on television. The dark, the shadows, the light, the humor in the midst of suffering. The secrets, the demons, the lies. The family dysfunction. Cannoli.
It is so gripping.
And yet Michael Corleone and his friends are not men to be revered, darling. Michael’s wife Kay is actually the one to watch. She’s going to start a fashion brand and get rich and expose that liar, and send him to prison like the dude who ran Miramax. What was that guy’s name? She Said was all about it.
The strike in Hollywood is happening for a reason. It is time to start anew.
And also, we must face the problem of Batman’s Joker who keeps showing up. Film after film about this guy—Nicholson, Phoenix, Ledger all played him. So much unworthy attention for a psychopath, in my opinion. Why does Joker’s image get put on walls in college dorms? Ick. His hair is greasy, he paints his face pale, he has no joy, he resists talk-therapy. (At least Tony Soprano acknowledged his weaknesses in a weekly appointment.) Joker’s cynicism and lying is perceived as truth, when all he does is deceive and hurt people and justify his actions as coded wisdom. His is not wisdom at all.
Joker—was your name John, once? Jack? There are a ton of ‘em. Listen, no one is to blame in this world for your anger and your anguish and your fear and your pain but you. You have choice and freedom every day to make decisions. If you want to make decisions that keep you in pain and cause pain for others, then welcome to a few more hundred million years of coming back as a thug and a critter and a rodent living in the dark alleys of subways, with no tenderness or affection or hope in your chest. Maybe you’ll end up in a ditch in a crack of Neptune when Earth is gone. Still, please know that Goddess is always here, ever present. All you need is the spark of one candle-flame. But you think you are smarter than fire. So you live in hell again and again. Begone with you.
Hmm. Well.
A hero. Wouldn’t that be something? A nation where heroism and valor are not signified by violence and slaughter, by fighting with swords and machine guns and weaponry, with deals done in the dark?
What does she look like, I wonder? This new and different cinematic hero.
How does she/they feel, when you are in the same room? What is her hair like, their skin? What does she wear? What color are their shoes? What kind of art does she have on the wall?
I know at least one thing. She knows how to breathe. And they’ll teach you how to do it, too.
It is time, my chimichanga.
Bisous,
Ms. Wonderful
*She Said* is streaming on Amazon, currently free for Prime members.