Oprah has begun a world wide classroom to proselytize her new found faith. This faith confounding enough is a faith in oneself by denying one’s ego, how this is possible is beyond me. It is an argument for another day and most likely a person other than me. 

The guidebook to her spiritual awakening is the New Earth by Ekhardt Tolle w/ whom she shares a weekly discussion with 2,000,000 people according to her website.

So be it. 

   I’ve logged on and casually listened to week 1 and 2 of the webinar as a favor to a friend. One of Tolle’s admonitions is to reject labels. Essentially we should look at people and nature while forgetting the labels the human race has given them and thus we will be able to more deeply appreciate a tree, excuse me, I mean the tall thingy with bark on it.

   For the most part labels are effective, albeit there are those situations that labels don’t necessarily hurt, but they aren’t helping either. I label every container in my house only to have a cabinet full of lids without partners. I’d start a support group for my Tupperware, but I believe they could be reunited with their mates if my sister would go through her kitchen cabinets, so in this case labels are only useful if she would read them.

   Labels aren’t so bad really. As a matter of fact, they are very useful, vital even. Labels help people to categorize and discern. Labels often protect us from danger or our own stupidity. I for one, am particularly fond of bathrooms that are labeled. While I have profound respect for the inventor of the urinal, all the yoga in the world won’t make it useful to me let alone appealing.

   I like labels that say decaf. It helps me avoid that murky water masquerading as a less stimulating coffee. I realize that this means I’m judging decaf coffee and not valuing it for what it is, and apart from a surrogate drink while breast feeding the stuff has no value. Bring me a small coffee can with a label that bears a tiny Italian flag and I feel exhilarated by the mere recognition of the lovely label which promises me a delicious drink that can sustain me through a 90 minute webinar.

   When I was a child, I was routinely advised that “if you are ever lost and can’t find your parents look for a police officer”. These days life is super-sized and it may be tricky for Junior to find a police officer in Wal-mart. Today, safety experts advise that children be taught if they are ever lost to look for a “safe person” such as a store employee or a “mommy”. Ask the little tyke what a “mommy” looks like and he can label one faster than he can whine for a matchbox car. These women are labeled as such due to the contents of their cart, the children badgering her for a matchbox car and the are-we-there-yet look on her face. Statistically this person’s maternal instinct is strong enough to extend to the lost child and to assist him to safety.

   When I knew I was expecting a baby, I set myself to the task of choosing a name for what eventually turned out to be my daughter. This was a serious endeavor. Ancient societies considered naming a child to be a way to impart a legacy, bestow a gift, or invoke a curse. With this in mind, names that meant “mother of harlots” or “one who weeps” were ruled out rather quickly.

   My daughter’s name means wisdom. Beauty fades and wealth is temporary, but wisdom is a precious commodity at each stage of life. All other attributes she possesses could be laid to waste without using them wisely. I labeled her wisdom, with God’s help I intend to raise her to be wise.

    If you can’t appreciate the beauty of a petunia without pretending you haven’t the foggiest idea what this velvety little sweet smelling watchamacallit in the ground is, then might I suggest turning off Oprah for a while and getting out of the house?