Having lost my job last November and facing other losses if something good doesn’t happen soon, I’ve been looking for ways to ease my stress level. About five weeks ago I went to the emergency room with chest pains. The good news is my heart and lungs appear to be fine. The bad news is I still feel a lot of stress and my blood pressure is borderline — it runs anywhere from 140/90 to 130/85 or so.
While on vacation last week (paid for by my in-laws, which, trust me, defines “Faustian bargain”), I took a Tai Chi class. It was great, and it reminded me of the benefits of meditation.
I had taken a meditation class back in the ’80s and loved it. The class was held in an old church in Lexington, Mass. I remember two specific things:
1) We had to take off our shoes and put then in a coatroom adjacent to the room where we were meditating. After the first class I discovered that some unenlightened fuck had stolen money from my wallet, which I had placed in one shoe. Later I learned the other shoe had been molested by a priest.
2) After the second class, a young woman there was really hitting on me hard, which, being a relative rarity in my life, was both flattering and not quite believable. It was like I almost had to assure her I wasn’t the Dalai Lama. I didn’t take advantage of the situation because I’m a fool I had a girlfriend at the time.
I meditated on my own for a few weeks after the class ended, but sadly allowed the practice to fade from my life as I got caught up in the kinds of things that elevate one’s blood pressure to borderline levels. Plus, having an incredibly restless mind — in other words, the perfect candidate to benefit from meditation — I found it nearly impossible to sit still on my own and focus. My mistake and my loss.
Fast forward to yesterday. Over the weekend I had discovered a holistic health center in Saratoga Springs, N.Y., that offers free meditation classes twice a month at the local library. Perfect! An opportunity to get back on the path to inner peace and ease the incredible tension I feel.
Naturally I was running a little late for the 12:30 p.m. starting time and found my stress level rising as I fought midday downtown traffic. I got to the library right at 12:29, but couldn’t find a parking space — except for the very last one! A cosmic sign! I grabbed the blue sofa pillow I had brought to sit on, ran in and asked where the meditation class was being held.
Directed downstairs, I hustled to the room just in time. But there was nobody there. Maybe I was in the wrong room, I thought. No, it says right here, “Mindful Mediation — 12:30 p.m.” (Yes, it said “mediation,” not “meditation.”)
I waited for about 10 minutes, figuring professional meditators might have a looser concept of time than I do. But in the end, there was no meditation. I was crushed; at this point I would have settled for the mediation.
A woman in the library told me the same thing had happened two weeks ago. The holistic center had reserved the room, and then no one showed up.
I left, downcast but determined to return again, and comforted by the knowledge that, at least this time, no one stole my money. Just a little of my spirit.
