I sat on my meditation cushion in the Pavillion at Karme Choling and listened intently as the senior Buddhist teacher gave instruction in meditation practice. I tried to sink into my heart and breathe from there, but I couldn't find my heart and the person to my right was exhaling like a bellows. Didn't she undertand that we were all trying to relax? When I'm meditating in a group I need people to be quiet and not move. If a bug creeps a milimeter along a windowpane 100 yards away, I can feel it, so noisy exhalations are out.
I switched my attention to the 7-foot flannel-shirted giant who blocked my view of the teacher. Didn't tall people know they were supposed to sit in the back? Chairs were positioned along the wall for that very purpose. Next, I reviewed the points of my posture: sitting tall, back muscles relaxed around a strong, supple spine, legs crossed comfortably; although, my left ankle was stone cold pins-and-needles asleep. Soft belly that belied an aggressive life-long tradition of sucking it in, and buying skinny jeans that are a size too small.
Which reminded me of those internet ads flashing cartoon people holding their hands over their ample bellies, feet twisted in anxiety when you are trying to find a synonym for 'strode.' In these horrid adds, the cartoon people's bellies shake. There is a blue arrow pointing to the right and a caption which reads: 1 Trick to a Tiny Belly. Follow this weird tip to... Basically, nowhere. Other ads suggest that the banana you have just eaten for breakfast, having forgone pancakes with yogurt and maple syrup, is causing you to gain weight. Should you be stupid enough to follow the link to discover these non-existant tricks and tips, you are directed to part with $129. Thank you, no.
Where was I? Oh, yes, my hands placed palms down upon my thighs, shoulders released from their normal prison of rigidity, eyes half-lidded as if gazing without seeing and cast roughly 4 feet in front of me - or boring into the 7-foot giant's lower back at an intersection of red with blue plaid that swam and merged despite my best intentions to see nothing. I imagined the crown of my head lifting toward the ceiling and beyond to open sky, my bottom centered on the cushion, supported by the vast earth beneath.
I was envious of those able to sit in a serene Buddha-like pose, legs crossed pliantly at the ankles like practiced yogis. They were getting it. My mind clicked like falling dominoes, tumbled in skeins of memory, internal conversations, fantasy. What was for lunch? Why was my seat so far in the back? That guy was pretty cute... Cougars are amazing animals. Are they the same thing as Catamounts, Vermont's elusive mountain lions? I saw one once many years ago at the bottom of my meadow at my Landgrove house, down by the swampy area where all the stumps were buried. Its powerful tawny shoulder muscles undulated below the skin as it slunk along. I had thought: Golden retriever? Then my eyes had traveled along the twitching feline tail. Some people (Juan the Gardener) don't believe me. No one, it seems, has found Catamount scat. But, I know what I saw.
I yearned to change position. My right shoulder burned. My facial muscles felt contorted into a mask of anxiety. It's not that I couldn't move, this was a gentle practice, an exercise in kindness to me, whoever I was if I was, but somehow, I was embroiled in an internal battle: a commixture of perfectionism and masochism. There was some sort of twisted satisfaction in suffering. While I tried to follow my breath, I envisioned myself leaping up and shrieking: I'm failing! I'm failing! I can't even breathe!
Then, there was a subtle displacement in the room, as if everyone had released a collective sigh, a sort of smiling aaahh. I looked up and out through the windows into the blazing blue October day and saw a tempest of delicate white puffs sailing out over the meadow. They glistened and danced in the sun. A zillion milk weed pods rained down in a delicate magical shower, like blessings.
Things had shifted. Who knew? Perhaps enlightenment was only a breath away. Not very likely in my case, but possible.
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