"You're young and beautiful, darling. You only need the one dress." p. 269
Ian: "started his career in the British army in Northern Ireland as a bomb expert, then became an international mine field detonation guide. Built refugee camps in Bosnia, was now taking a break in Bali to work on music . . . " plus, he likes the Simpsons, travelled all over the world, lived in an Ashram once, mentioned Tolstoy once . . . p. 268. Me: none of those things. Am I jealous? Maybe.
I know one thing. I'm feeling pretty beat up today. Huh, beat up by meditation. Odd. I started with the Meditation Festival workshop thing yesterday and continued today. I cant remember the last time I felt so out to sea! I expected a sort of "welcome home" feeling, a feeling of wonder like when you step inside an enormous and majestic cathedral. I expected to lock into the guided meditation, to start on my journey toward God with the instinct of a migratory bird. But, all I got was sleepy.
In fact, the meditation was like balancing on a wobbly 3-legged stool. You think you've got your balance, but one leg gives way and you fall into thinking too much. You get yourself propped back up, focusing on your breathing and your heart shakra (wherever the hell that is, because they tell me it's not, in fact, over your heart!) Then, crack! Another gives way and your imagination is drifting away (running away more like it - like a dog off a leash). Once again, gathered up, rebalanced, and not a moment later, but the third leg goes flying off into the corner and you fall . . . asleep.
I think I spent most of the afternoon of staring at candles, flowers, different colors, etc just fighting off sleep! I tried coffee during the lunch break, but all that made me do is have to wiz every 20 minutes.
So, there I was, sleepy, doe-eyed Scott, running to the bathroom while everybody else seemed to be making some good first steps in meditation. Then, of course, there was that prick who was meditation before the meditation . . . you know, one of those eager, good student bastards that has to sit in the front row! They were all asking interesting and exciting questions as far as the teacher was concerned. I, in my quiet was, asked for no help. Speaking of help, the raging, congestion-filled headache did not help! I even took allergy medicine last night.
DayQuil helped . . . and a nap . . . after!
Some suggestions they gave us were: meditate every day. Find a special place at home and dedicate it ONLY to meditation and prayer. Get up early (the suggestion was 6 AM, mother of God!! I can't even do 8 am). Perhaps they don't have a strong-willed red head at home who refuses to go to bed before 2 am, has a little tantrum when the TV gets turned off around midnight and engages them in debate for the next half-hour. Perhaps, too, they don't live in an over-loaded studio apartment that has NO empty spaces or corners that could be used solely for meditation.
So Liz = Carmen Sandiego (as in, "where in the world is . . ."). Me = Poop Monster.
They said no laying on the floor. That shoots down my friend's idea. Maybe I could bring something to the writing space to change the aura of one of the cubicles or something. But, what? The suggested a picture of one of Sri Bok-choy's (that's not his name. It's really Chinmoy) paintings. But, they just look like colorful doodles to me. But, supposedly, they were created in a transcendent, meditative state. They still look like doodles to me. Maybe, my previously hopeful mind has slammed shut. Maybe, I don't know true beauty. Maybe, I'm a monkey in a science-priest-warrior-poet world, messing around in the mud, mistaking the shiny stones for God.
None-the-less, I intend to go back tomorrow. I don't know why, but I'm going to go back. Despite the discouragement. Hell, it could be pure masochism. Maybe, I'm a glutton for thick-headed, foggy-spirited punishment. Who knows? Maybe, it's supposed to be really, REALLY hard.
Again, God asks us to only seek. Unless I'm missing something, he doesn't ask us to be Gurus by the end of the weekend. Oh, and St. Patrick's day craziness going on outside.
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