April 29, 2004
Rare and Shiny Fish
Tired and ill on the D train, I spotted an ad for a 10 week Practical Philosophy course. It read:
"In an increasingly confused world it is refreshing to come into the company of other thoughtful men and women who recognize the need to uncover the finest principles of life and to endeavor to apply them for the good of all."
I was intrigued.
"Weekly topics include: Letting go of worry, doubt, and fear; The true use of mind; The Unchanging and Eternal; Increasing your awareness; Going beyond the limits of ego - Being Free."
“I need to take this,” I said to Angie.
She was nodding half-asleep next to me.
"Sure, yes."
"But ten weeks. It's such a long time. I need it now. How long does it take to become a rational thinker?"
"You've got time."
"Look at that fish."
The train was going mad. A man was reading US Weekly and licking his lips. At the next platform a man hammered his hands against the plastic window and spat at the glass. Another man was singing Britney Spear's Toxic at the top of his lungs. The Olson twins are turning eighteen, they will arrive in the city soon. There will be no public ceremony, but the signs are everywhere.
I turned back to the poster. It was illustrated with two pictures. In one, a goldfish was swimming though a tank. He was miserable. In the other, the same fish was leaping from an open stream, and that fish was smiling. The message was clear: after a ten-week course the fish had learned to be philosophical about things.
“That fish probably just achieved a lucid state of false consciousness,” I said.
The fish winked.
Startled, I looked at the fish closely, examined his eye, his smile. The fish was inscrutible. Perhaps he was right.
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Meanwhile, I missed this in April, but Tailors Today returned just long enough to shut the door with this brilliant poem.
We need more tailors.
