Is it possible for New Age principles and humor to live in harmony? I´m not sure, but I´m willing to give it a try. Maria, my roommate here in Peru, and I discussed this topic this morning after our morning Andean spiritualist yoga class. We decided that New Age spirituality is a valuble paradigm that we both embrace whole-heartedly, but that many New Age practitioners and spiritualists tend to frown upon the insertion of humor into the mix.

I try my hardest not to take myself or my spiritual practice too seriously. This includes meditation, yoga, prayer or ceremony. I understand that in order to get the most out of any of these things, that I have to have a modicum of sincerity about the experience and practice. But that does not mean that I have to take myself so damned seriously. 

That´s when I remembered the heyoka of the Native American cultures. The heyoka is the sacred clown, the one who shows the folly of humanity through his constant joking and insistence on doing things backwards. The heyoka teaches us not to take ourselves or the details of life too seriously.

One night recently I returned home fairly early from a neighboring hostel´s bonfire party. Javier was already at home and surprised by my early return.

¨What made you come home so early?¨ he asked.

¨Well, when they started drumming for world peace, I knew it was time for me to get outta there,¨I said.

Javier stared at me for a minute and then said, ¨Oh Anna, you´re just not . . . spiritual enough.¨

¨Yeah,¨I replied. ¨It´s true.¨

Then we both erupted in a peal of cackles, like a couple of witches. I suppose we heyokas have to stick together.

I worked in The Burque for one week last November. When I was here that last time, I splurged and purchased a fine silver and turquoise Pakistani necklace from a Swedish woman with an intense handshake who runs a new-age type crystal shoppe/bookstore. I wore the necklace to my next destination, Chicago, whereupon, the very next day, one of the platelet hinges snapped. Admittedly, this happened while I was dancing super-hard with a bunch of friends in front of a juke box at one of my favorite Chicago beer joints, Estelle’s. Needless to say, I was a bit disappointed, but also, kind of impressed with myself that I was able to break a hundred dollar necklace simply by some crazy booty-shakin’.

Yesterday, I was in Inga’s store again, this time purchasing a hard-to-find book. I re-introduce myself and mention that I purchased a necklace last fall – and that it broke two days later. Inga pauses, looks at me over the top of her bifocals with a gaze equally as intense as her soul-stroking handshake and says very evenly, “You know, dear, zat vhen someting like dis happens, it is because zat necklace has protected you from some-sing.”

“What?” I ask. I don’t really know what I was expecting her to do about the busted merchandise, but I truly wasn’t expecting her to tell me that the necklace saved me from some sort of attack – psychic or otherwise.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s true. Once, I was coming home across a darkened parking lot, and my necklace broke.” She shuddered. “I know it protected me from some-sing!” She smiles. “I can recommend someone to fix it . . . ”

For the record – I do have a tendency to believe these sorts of things, but that belief system certainly has limitations. The only thing that I can’t shake about her explanation is that . . . . OK, let’s pretend that she’s correct and that it did “save me” from some-sing. Why did it break whilst I was dancing, surrounded by friends? I have to hand the prize of proprietary excuses to my local crystal shoppe owner, Inga. I’ll be back to her store; it’s a good store. I just won’t buy any more jewelry there.