Last night, I couldn't go to sleep till early morning. It felt like Full Moon rather than the New Moon in that regard. This morning I slept consequently longer and then went out to do some shopping. I stopped to have a coffee in a café where the TV is always on. I saw an ad they've been showing recently in intervals of half an hour or so. It's for a "compression belt" to shape your body. It is supposed to reshape the waist of a woman into the one of a wasp and for men the effect is apparently to give them terrific six-packs. The modern version of a corset, except that one doesn't wear it all the time, it just mucks up your body.

Then a woman came into the café. She was tall and slim and looked half starved. Age: end of her fifties or early sixties, maybe, difficult to tell as her long hair was died and she wore heavy makeup. In spite of that, her complexion was sullen and greyish. She had expensive designer clothes on and wore the highest high heeled shoes ever. I had seen another ad some time recently where shoes like that were shown to be ferocious fire-spitting dragons. The woman in the ad tamed her dragons with insoles which turned it into a flatter, although still high heeled, smiling reptile.

Those shoes are torture instruments. Women who wear them can no longer walk barefoot because the muscles of their calves and their Achilles' tendons have shrunk. They are continually balancing on the tips of their feet. This means that they have as much contact to the earth as if they were walking on artificial feet. Their feet get progressively terribly deformed and hurt like hell, so that plastic surgery becomes inevitable. The surgeons then often adapt the feet to the shoes, cut off a toe and bits of bone here and there. It was a less expensive procedure for Cinderella's step sisters.

The woman seemed to have been "treated" with Botox, too. This is a natural substance extracted from corpses, that makes the faces of dead people look smooth and full again and leads to rigor mortis. The wrinkles disappear. In a living person Botox paralyses the muscles, so that one no longer can smile or frown, for example. But not being able to smile means that you no longer can FEEL smiley any more. The emotion has been killed, too. So people who have been treated with Botox not only look like zombies, they are zombies.

I was feeling a bit off already, but after having been invited to look into this (admittedly neither new nor unaccustomed) karmic mirror of the distorted feminine, I felt nauseated and sick. Back home, I went to bed again without having any lunch.

So what is there here to be realigned? To greater or lesser degrees, the feminine masochism, our readiness to distort, even destroy our body and personality in the attempt to please, the commonness of prostituting ourselves for material comforts and social gratification even at the price of losing our soul, our willing self sacrifice on the altar of materialism, our complete alienation from our body and nature and from Nature as a whole. This is a heavy burden indeed.