Call it the end of an Age. Nearly forty years in the same location. One of my favourite stops on my periodic city walkabouts. Never spent much money in there mind you. Too many esoteric volumes, wakey-flaky stuff. Auras and crystals, aromatheratpeutics and Reiki works. Gurus and Masters that seemed to fall in and out of favour.
Come to think of it, maybe the crystals made their way into cellphones and other such magical mobile devices.
Anyway, the young ladies that tended to hang around were lithe though, with a soft powdery glow about them. Their necks, shoulders, thighs and ankles were embellished with mythological motifed tattoos. I would study them, the tattoos that is, surreptitiously.
I say surreptitiously because there was never much point in me striking up conversations. I was older by not a few years, and besides, a little too hard of thought and idea you might say.
A science background had taught me to think a little sharper than most New Agers I guess. I never could stand around for hours kicking hackysacks or swaying as if hypnotized by mediocre music festival fare. No matter how lovely the young ladies.
But that was a little harsh.
A shop not unlike The New Age opened its doors in my neighbourhood several years ago. Feeling sorry for the attractively dressed young lady proprietor I bought about twenty-five bucks worth of stuff, Runes in a Bag and a small booklet on something or other. They’re long gone now and so is the shop, which didn’t last more than three or four months.
What was it I wrote or said in one of my videos?
The New Age was nothing more than a cleverly repackaged Old Age?
An artful modern day reworking of ancient mythological motifs?
Ah, but when will we learn to set aside the crutches?
And realize that Life is ALL there is.
I’d call that a real New Age.
The New, New Age.