Lately I’ve been listening to a lot of Devo. The whole “people are terrible and everything is awful so let’s have a dance party” vibe resonates with me right now. Hey, you deal with melancholy your way, let me handle it my way. I want to be able to feel what I’m feeling, but have enough upbeat energy to function.
Anyway, it didn’t surprise me at all that Mark Mothersbaugh appeared to me in my dreams last night. We were sitting in a diner having coffee. It was one of those railroad car-inspired 50’s joints, with all of the chrome and that bright, retro color scheme. The coffee was in those normal-sized white ceramic cups that seem small by modern standards. Our waitress was in a goldenrod uniform, with the white apron and the hat and the white nurse shoes. It was a very vivid dream.
I was telling him about all of the things that were bothering me right now. How I’m convinced that we’re all going to die of willful ignorance. Climate change denial, anti-vaxxers, flat Earthers, Sandy Hook, white women calling cops, attacks on freedom of the press, and on, and on, and on. He just sat calmly, listening to me, nodding.
Then he reached across the table, and with his index finger poked me gently between the eyebrows. Right on the anja, what some people call the “third eye” chakra. This is where a teacher touches a seeker during initiation rituals. As he tapped my forehead he said, “It’s not your job to fix it”.
It’s Not Your Job to Fix It
I’m not going to unpack all of the symbolism in this dream. Most of it is pretty obvious. The main takeaway is that I just need to focus on the things that are within my control. As much as all of that other stuff is worth being concerned about, I can only do what I can do. It feels like a cop out, like it’s giving in to the same apathy that got us to this point, but it’s the truth. It’s not my job to fix it.