Practice in Meditation


Many have suggested that I, a man interested in the secrets of the brain, practice meditation. It offers increased focus, self-awareness, and a control enviable by people who can walk by sea-salt caramel dark chocolate bars without purchasing five (six, really, as they often come at a discounted rate when purchased in pairs). I smoke grass nightly to tone down the chaos in my head and aid my ability to sleep, but to accomplish this mindset without eating all six of those chocolate bars in one sitting would be a fantastic upgrade. So yes, I said, yes, I will practice meditation. I will accomplish a higher level of self-awareness. And I will take you along with me on the journey I have toward reaching it.

Trial 1:

I sit in the center of my couch and stare aimlessly out my glass door and into the sheet of trees planted by my neighbor. I do not focus on any one object I see, rather capturing the entire image and spacing out. Am I meditating right? I’ve heard on tv that you’re supposed to have a mantra and close your eyes; I really should have done some research on how to meditate. A hummingbird perched on a branch chirps and ruffles its feathers. Hey, this bird’s trying to get laid! Am I supposed to be thinking about this bird? I’ve seen frat dudes at a bar called Happy Endings that were less desperate than this bird. Actually, I don’t even know if this bird is male. I should look that up right now. Then I should look up how to meditate. Maybe I can watch Planet Earth and there will be something on humming birds and I can figure out if this is a dude or a chick. All birds were chicks once. That’s too dumb for Twitter. I leave the couch and head to the kitchen for chocolate.

Trial 2:

This time, I have the blinds closed to block out disruptive birds. I also have my eyes closed. I realize that closing my eyes renders closing the blinds pointless. My legs wrapped in a blanket, my hands resting on my lap, I enjoy the peace the darkness brings. A little squiggle of red floats across the blackness. No worry, I’ve been seeing these squigglies since I was very young. What are they? I can control them, to an extent, and make them flash in various colors as they drift across my non-vision. Stop! The point of this exercise is to focus, not to lose track down the path of the color squiggles I’m sure everyone experiences when they close their eyes. Does everyone else experience it? Will I be able to find it if I search “colored squigglies” on Google? I’m going to do it in the incognito window so no one will know that I used such a silly term. Incognito window will probably be happy to be used for something other than porn. Oh man, I haven’t watched any porn in a while, maybe that’s why I’m having trouble focusing. I leave the couch and head to the kitchen for chocolate…first.

Trial 3:

All the lights in the apartment are off, all the blinds are closed, and I’m shrouded in darkness. I still haven’t researched meditation, but I can’t stop thinking about this mantra business, so I’m giving it a try. I don’t actually know what a mantra is, but I think it’s something you repeat over and over again to keep focused on a task. I decide to use “Pax Nobiscum”. I say pax nobiscum three times aloud and am thankful it’s not a tongue twister. I don’t think I really know any short tongue twisters. People say “toy boat” is tough to say a lot in a row. I can think it fast several times with no issue. Wait, no I can’t. I say boyt. Toy boat toy boat toy boyt toy boyt ta boyt. What was I saying before, pax nobiscum? My friend used to say that and I thought he was quoting Star Trek. What is this mantra from? What does it mean? I can’t focus right now, I need a treat. I leave the couch and head to the kitchen for chocolate, banging my shins against the coffee table along the way. This deserves a whole bar.

Trial 4:

I smoke from my vaporizer in preparation for this meditation. I leave the couch and head to the kitchen for chocolate.

Trial 5:

I wear orange robes draped sparingly around my body. I’ve shaved my head and have gained a considerable amount of weight. I sit cross-legged and set myself on fire. I leave the couch and head to the kitchen to make s’mores.

Trial 6:

In preparation for this meditation attempt, I’ve gone online to rent out a timeshare on the astral plane. It’s not such an expensive deal and my mind is at peace knowing that I can go there any time I want twice a year as long as I check in with others involved in the timeshare and make sure they don’t want to use the astral plane on those days. They say the weather is lovely in autumn. I celebrate with my final bar of chocolate.

From my six sessions of meditation, I have learned many things about myself. Namely, I’m addicted to chocolate. Uber Facts on Twitter says this possible. Twitter also says that I was correct in thinking my “All birds were chicks once” thought was too dumb for Twitter. If anyone is looking to meditate, I’m thinking of using my timeshare on March 25th; let me know if you’d like to join.

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