Instant Karma
Tom Wilson 18.06.04

"Skateboarding," declares the goatee-bearded youth beside me in a hooded top, "It's not a sport - it's a way of life." I find myself struggling to suppress the urge to attack the said individual with a blunt object. How many times have we all found ourselves on the receiving end of the same cliché? How many times have such stock phrases, directly lifted from yoof-TV shows written by copywriters who still think that body-piercing is cool, found their way into our conversations? Remove 'skateboarding' and substitute snowboarding; growing hemp; paragliding; vegetarianism; listening to drum 'n' bass; collecting model trains - the followers of all these pastimes might equally claim to be following a 'lifestyle choice'. However, unless they happen to have renounced clothing and live in a cave somewhere in the Carpathians, anyone who tells you that their leisure activities constitute a 'way of life' is always, without exception, lying.

This is the disappointing truth about our post-modern, post-industrial, post-Fukuyamian society (regardless of the neologism you conjure up to describe it): we all live remarkably similar lives. Stress and boredom are the two main constants in the daily routine of most working people. The rest of our activities - the bits that fill in the gaps when we're not sleeping, or getting up, or going to work, or eating - amount to little more than 'hobbies'. The idea of a 'hobby' conjures up images of 1950s fathers retreating into garden sheds for a Sunday afternoon amongst the creosote. The word itself almost smells of balsa wood and glue - it sounds suitably trivial , perfectly capturing the trivial things we like to think constitute some kind of personality-defining 'lifestyle'.

True 'lifestyle choices', rather than those invented by advertisers to sell more skateboards, are for cranks and weirdoes. Lifestyle choices demand making a break with ordinary society. They involve taking to the hills to avoid fluorified water, micro-radiation and CIA mind-control devices; they involve celibacy, vows of silence and self-flagellation. They're certainly not overpriced children's toys for adults who should know better. No matter how much we might admire those who do choose to leave mainstream society behind and pursue a genuinely different lifestyle - no matter how much they embody our deepest collective desires - they'll always be condemned to being part of the loony fringe.

Realising this, every leader of every modern movement which has claimed to promote 'better living' / 'spiritual awakening' / etc, has gone to great lengths to show their followers just how undemanding their latest diet / religion / life-philosophy is.

Regular readers of this column might remember an example of the unfathomable stupidity of Britney Spears from a few weeks back, who asked if the Hindu religion was something like 'Kabbalah', the religious cult that's being embraced by every no-brain celebrity from Madonna to Mick Jagger. There's nothing new about unsettled A-listers embracing improbable new-age movements, with the Beatles themselves famously falling for the pseudo-mysticism of the Maharishi and his transcendental meditation. More recently, the Church of Scientology, whose followers include Tom Cruise and John Travolta, offers a crackpot version of psychotherapy together with the 'true story of the universe' (it involves an alien emperor called Xenu who ruled over earth some 75 million years ago, before you ask...)

Kabbalah, however, has recently knocked Scientology off the top spot in terms of the number of hapless stars it seems to have recruited. Perhaps it has something to do with it being perfectly adapted to the rhythm of our hectic, modern lives. Instead of wasting years or even hours in silent contemplation of the secrets of the universe, Kabbalah offers 'speed-meditation', which provides a daily dose of spiritual enlightenment in just 20 seconds. And why spend a lifetime of scholarship, trying to understand the ancient Jewish texts that the cult is based around? Instead, the Kabbalah teaches that its followers can understand these scriptures, subconsciously, just by running their hands over them. If you've got £50 to spare you can even purchase spiritual rejuvenation in the form of a cream from the Kabbalah skin-care product range. Fast, effortless and consumable. Kabbalah is everything that a modern religion should be. A 'way of life' it certainly isn't.

Despite this abundance of quack-mysticism, there's no reason to treat all such practices with suspicion. The west has become increasingly comfortable with the idea of stealing the good bits of other life-philosophies and adapting them to fit our modern world. Practices such as tai-chi and meditation have gone from being the preserve of caftan-wearing Californian kooks to the activities of choice for successful businesspeople juggling stressful careers. With this in mind, hoping to seek solace from the stresses of the modern world (and trying to think as little about Madonna and Britney as possible) I decided last week to sign up for Yoga classes.

I found myself being suitably impressed. Simply as a form of exercise, Yoga is surprisingly tiring, and leaves you with that satisfied feeling that accompanies a strenuous workout. Its a perfect post-office relaxation exercise, and sceptics should bear in mind that doctors are increasingly recommending yoga for a wide variety of ailments, from circulatory problems to back pains. Moreover, there's no obligation to look deeper into the spiritual side of the 5,000 year-old Indian philosophy. Yoga has become a leisure activity which provides some solutions to our contemporary needs - a practice that isn't bought into as a wholesale 'lifestyle', but one which can be enjoyed in a piecemeal manner. It's about as much of a lifestyle choice as the decision to buy a skateboard. Which is a good thing, since I've already managed to miss my second Yoga class.

Weekly yoga classes are run by 'Body Dynamic' every Tuesday at 19:30 , Giuseppe Verdi 2, Floreasca.

© Tom Wilson / ZF 2004