First of all, another comment that my lack of blogging results from:

1. Getting a bit tired of rehashing the same themes (there are only so many ways that thinking goes awry in the New Age and “spiritual” world, really)
2. Being busy with things like Invisible Shoes running sandals
3. Nothing spinning in my head  loudly enough that I need to get it out by writing it down

Well, that’s about to change. There’s a thought-storm a-brewin’ and this brief post will hint at what it is.

So let me get there by starting here:

You probably know about the various “caveman” or “paleolithic” diets. They suggest that we should eat like our 100,000 year old ancestors for maximum health and a lean, trim body.

Okay, let’s ignore for a moment that most of what they ate no longer exists — the fruits and vegetables they would find have long since been selectively bred out of existence, for example.

And let’s ignore that their lifestyle — which involved a surprisingly small amount of driving, deskwork, and Twitter/Facebook status updates — is, oh, a bit passe.

But here’s what gets me. I’ve never heard one of the paleo/cave proponents recommend a food that was eaten frequently by our more hirsute relatives… one that is a source of a significant percentage of protein in the diets of many modern societies.

Insects.

Yup. Bugs, grubs, spiders, creepy-crawly things. Oh, and let’s not forget lizards who, it seems, had not yet been turned into hyper-expensive boots.

If you’re going to propose that we get in the Way-Back Machine and knosh at a pre-historic Denny’s, then you can’t cherry-pick your data (and cherries, back then, were sour and sucked). You can’t leave out the pieces of the puzzle that you find unpleasant or, worse, unmarketable.

So, you paleolithic pansies, get thee to an Asian grocery for some palm grubs (smoothies, anyone?). Hop over to an exotic pet store for a plateful of crickets and grasshoppers. Don’t feed that monitor lizard you have as a pet… pet it gently with marinade as you roast it over an open flame.

Oh, and walk all the way to and fro on your gathering errands, cause finding this stuff shouldn’t be easy.

Now, all that said, how does this relate to our normal topic-du-blog?

I’ve been struck lately by how Western Buddhists have been cherry-picking philosophy and taking the bugs out of the teachings they don’t find palatable (like, oh, the little idea that “enlightenment” or the “end of suffering” — the promise and #1 sales pitch of Buddhism — is attainable through diligent practice of monastic life… and, instead, Buddhism is really promising that, in the moment, you have the ability to be more present and less reactive… Whoopty-friggin’ do).

But more about that later, once the volume of that thought in my brain gets to 11.

I’ve had it with homeopaths.

The one group of people who could fix all the world’s problems, but, do they?

Noooooooooo.

How dare they hoard their knowledge and mastery over the world in exchange for the selfish act of earning a living and supporting their families?

Look, I like being able to pay the rent as much as the next guy/gal, but if I could cure all the world’s ills with a couple of simple day trips, I’d sacrifice my livelihood in exchange for utopia. Wouldn’t you?

Of course you would.

But once again, as I go to my tap for a glass of water, I’m reminded of the callous arrogance of the community of practitioners of Samuel Hahnemann’s art.

Because, if it were me, and I were a homeopath, and I knew homeopathic treatments became stronger the more you diluted them, I would take my entire arsenal of homeopathic medicines, get in my car, drive to the city’s reservoir, and dump them all in!

Then, I’d whip around the rez in my speedboat to make sure that 1 milliliter of already hyper-diluted substance imprints the entire body of water with its energetic memory (clearly more powerful than the imprint of the gas from my motor), so that everyone who partakes in a sip of municipal H2O would receive the healing powers.

“Hold on!,” some of you might complain, “The homeopath picks JUST THE RIGHT medicine for your specific condition! You can’t go dumping everything in at once?!”

Okay, I’ll grant you a flaw in my original plan.

But that will merely highlight the level of my altruism and the greediness of my homeopathic peers (if, I were a homeopath and, therefore, had peers, that is).

See, I’d be willing to start with only one remedy, and let the people who have that matching illness recover, as if by magic. And then I’d go out to the reservoir every month, or every week, or every day, until I had exhausted my collection of treatments and my entire stash of medicines was exhausted.

And, when the mainstream medical community was out of work (other than for things like setting broken bones), I’d spearhead the movement for homeopaths around the world to do the same for their communities, bringing true healing of the root causes, and ending the oppressive conspiracy of Western medicine once and for all.

Finally…

Oh, wait…

I just realized the fatal error in my thinking, and perhaps now understand the psychic pain that homeopaths must endure every day of their live, knowing that they could cure all beings by following my subversive method, were it not for this:

By diluting the treatments THAT much, so that the odds of finding even one molecule of the original substance in the entire reservoir is absolutely zero, the treatments would become too powerful for all but denizens of Krypton to tolerate.