“You are all consumers, consumer egos, mythological selves that…have been propagandized—as is the common case in the world presently—into being a believer in a mythological notion of the infinite importance of your own self and of the purpose of satisfying it, of experiencing this and that, indulging in this and that, and being satisfied through the acquisition of this and that thing or experience or relation or whatever it may be.

“The discourse of common society, such as it is at the present time, is something like a carnival barker’s selling some cheap show: “Come on in!” Everything is a sales job about something. You are addressed, in other words, as a consumer, as someone to be persuaded to consume, to acquire, to be satisfied by something or other.”

Adi Da Samraj

Adi Da is fiercely critical of “spiritual consumerism,” and, before this pandemic, I thought that was the only kind of consumerism I ever indulged in. And Lord knows I did. And do. I pursue hits of joy, ecstasy, inner-silence, all of that shit, as cravenly as any meth-head pursues his drug.

But once fuck-head covid-19 took my job and left me with zero income I quickly discovered that, lo and behold, I’m not only a spiritual consumer. I’m also a regular old physical stuff consumer. Like, y’know, a consumer consumer. 

For example, I am a bit of a health-nut. But now, overnight, I can no longer buy my favorite health toys. Like shilajit, an insanely pricey, tar-like mineral pitch, consumed by Himalayan yogis and wild-eyed Russian mystics. It is plundered from remote mountain ranges all just for me and my precious health and longevity.

Or like Dragon Herbs ant tincture. Yes, that’s right. I’m talking about a tincture. Made of ants. And not just any ants, mind you. Not the pedestrian ants that the rabble might make tinctures out of. No, these ants are lovingly raised on a strict diet of super-adaptogenic, immuno-modulating reishi mushrooms. They’re basically coddled in little ant spas where they listen to Mozart all day. The ones who show a bit of natural proclivity might even learn to play Mozart on little ant pianos with eight keys. And now I can’t have tinctures of them. No dinero.

It turns out I am a living embodiment of what Adi Da criticizes here:

“You are grounded in this ‘Western’ collective ideal of the ‘good life’, that imagines you are born to be fulfilled, satisfied, kissed, cuddled and congratulated, and immortalized. No one who has ever Realized has functioned on such a basis. The absurdity of that proposition has to be seen through…You can practice in the context of ordinary living, and in love, and with compassion, and with a sense of humor, and a capability for delight, also — but free of that absurd vision of ‘self’-fulfillment…”

What’s been dawning on me lately is that consumerism is consumerism. It doesn’t matter what arena it’s in; it always has one orientation: What do I get? What’s in it for me? This separate subject wants to acquire that separate object – ant tinctures, physical health, literary excellence, psychological insights, a quiet mind, sexual bliss, spiritual ecstasies, whatever. 

And the thing is, the consumer mind is painful as fuck. Because it always rests on a dissociation – in this present moment – from the Radiant Joy that is “always already” our true nature. And let’s don’t even get started on how hurtful our acquisitive, consumer mind is to the beings around us. Yeesh. 

Good times. 

Takeaway

If this pandemic has curtailed your consumerism, in any arena, make use of that. Notice the craving in you to acquire, to consume. Notice the pain that craving is trying to medicate, and notice how the craving is, itself, painful. 

Simultaneously, check this out: Adi Da says all beings have a primal heart-response of attraction to the Divine, the Absolute, the Transcendent, the Good Thing, the Bamboozling Mystery of Isness. We’re attracted to It because It is what we are, but we have forgotten that, and on an epic scale. This attraction-response is not acquisitive, consumer seeking, because it’s as mindless and spontaneous as a plant turning toward the sun. And because it is thought-free and hence non-strategic. And because it’s always only in this one opulent moment. And because it draws us into forgetting all about the royal me and its endless demands. 

So slow down, soften, and be open to noticing that naked heart-response in yourself. It’s in there! Notice how, if you feel it deeply, a flowering happens. In that flowering, you forget all about yourself as a customer in life. You forget all your fist-thumping demands to speak to the manager. That flowering is called devotion. Yum. It’s what your heart is made for. Notice how it moves you wordlessly toward stuff like service, humility, self-surrender, letting go, self-giving participation, and gratitude. Notice how these characteristics are the opposites of the consumer mindset. How subversive! I’ll tune myself for the same noticings. We’ll talk.

Okay but here’s the question: Is it good to consume things that remind you about the pain of being a consumer? Because if so, you should totally subscribe to this unbearably profound blog. Then, whenever I put up a new post, you’ll get it in your email. Nom nom.