As part of the great legacy that Christmas holidays gives to us each and every year, M and I have been spending our evenings watching, uh, “classic” movies on MovieTime or APTN or whatever station hapless enough to get their hands on a print. Day before yesterday it was “Major League” and “White Men Can’t Jump” [spoiler: they CAN, but only when extremely motivated]. Last night it was “Star Trek V: The Final Frontier” which I whined a bit about at first but turned out to be a hidden gem, at least from my rarefied perspective as yoga teacher.

The gist is this: A rogue Vulcan has gone all touchy-feely and is looking to ensnare a starship so he can journey to the centre of the galaxy, beyond the ostensibly dangerous Great Barrier, and find a mystical planet where God is said to live. So far so good, right?

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He’s also got one of those crazy brain-talents that they use on Star Trek to save on FX, like he’s a telepath or an empath or a Redpath or one of those; he can see peoples’ deep sadness, and he can actually create a little 3D vision of the story of their sadness right there in the room for other people to see as well. Needless to say this proves to be very compelling for most of the characters, since most of us are indeed burdened with sadness. He works up a good crew of followers and his clothes, already pretty robe-like, become robes for real, and his hair, already pretty prophet-like, becomes like Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments, &c.

Now, the whole premise of the show is that they boldly go where no one has gone before, so I think a part of the viewer is prepared to see them go past the Great Barrier [which turns out to be a bunch of laser pointers; man I love Star Trek] find this mystical planet and see God, or at least a version of same. What you don’t count on is how seductive Touchy Feely Vulcan’s promise is, and how obscenely pleasant it is to see our [well, mine at least] long-time TV friends, the Enterprise crew, soften and open and cry a bit and for all intents and purposes become healed from their deep sadness. It’s pretty compelling. [For the purposes of this analysis, Uhura's weird crush on Scottie will be disregarded, because, yeah.]

That being said, TFV is a charismatic Tony-Robbins type, full of enigmatic answers to questions with avuncular winks and smiles; rivetting as a person and obviously skilled at whatever that brain-skill is, but never quite making a whole lot of sense. His eyes are firmly on the prize, and the prize is this wild planet, and mayhem is ensuing but it’s all part of the plan. If you question him, it’s because you’re afraid. If you want something else in your life, it’s because you’re addicted, or attached to your own desire; you’re not sufficiently humble. If you don’t want to check out his crazy Telepathovision, you aren’t interested in the growth and support of all mankind. As I’m sure some of you have noticed, there are people like this living among us these days; and it is very hard to have a discussion with them.

There are only two members of the Enterprise crew that withstand the mighty spirituo-emotional whammy of TFV: Kirk and Spock. Kirk gets off the hook because he decides to cleave to his own jerkiness, and something about Ayn Rand, I don’t know; I wasn’t clear on that part, he just yells a bit and makes that Shatner face that’s like, “This Is My Standing Up For American Values and My Right to Self Determination Face, You Robe-Wearing Fruitcake”. That might resonate with you, I don’t know. Spock, on the other hand, has a nice little speech where he tells TFV that, yes, he had a deep sadness and that TFV has correctly identified it, and that it is indeed difficult to see; but that he [Spock] has grown over time, no longer that wounded child, and his place is with his friends and by his Captain’s side. He’s polite, he’s real, he’s strong, and nerdy in that Nimoyish way, and he pretty much shortcuts any of TFV’s possible objections, leaving him to smile enigmatically [if a bit foolishly] and get on with his hijacking of the Enterprise.

For many years I’ve been thinking about what we are really transforming in our yoga practice. So many other voices crowd the landscape and different narratives and goals abound: should the ego be abandoned? Transcended? Silenced? Is there any purpose to this life, or even this moment? Should our eyes be on the prize like TFV, and objections on this mortal plane be damned? I mean, hardly anybody puts it like that anymore but you don’t have to go far before you hear something about “oh, that’s just my ego” or “that’s just my fear and my addiction”. I’ve thought that before about various aspects of myself, and I have to say, it was less that fruitful. Marginalizing those parts of myself as unnecessary to or even an impediment to a spiritual life has not been a net positive. The only way I can figure this out is by expanding my concept of what a spiritual life IS: that it has the capacity to hold and support me even with all my flaws, and nothing need be discarded or dismissed [especially not with these new-age therapy tropes that we seem to enjoy so much these days: “OMG I'm totally addicted to green tea Frappucinos”]. Even as a child I suspected that those who wanted to separate God from real life, to put him in a building or in India or in robes or on a raw vegan diet or whatever, had their logic go a bit squirrelly on them somewhere along the way.

And indeed, the ol’ Enterprise crew experiences a little parable right there amongst the Styrofoam “rocks” on the mystical planet; the “God” they encounter is one of those laser-pointer aliens and after much joyful Charlton-Heston-style declamation and speeches it turns out he wants the Enterprise [!!?!] to which Kirk asks, “what the heck does God need a starship for? Aren’t you everywhere, all the time?” and there are some lightning bolts and poor TFV experiences a crisis of faith.

In yoga we often speak of the limitless love and capacity of the heart to heal us, and somewhere in there we sneak in some judgements and pejoratives, but to me this limitless love means: right now, in this life, wherever you are, whatever you are doing, no matter how unfancy it might be or how “unspiritual” you feel. Anything else is limiting the divine, and that can only lead to a laser battle with a guy in a bathrobe.

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