Maditation

Ahhh ok I need to meditate. I haven’t meditated in a while and I’m feeling stressed. I’ll just find a nice quite spot.

I look outside to find my lawn chairs crusty with bird poop, the grass turned into a mine field of dog poop, and the sun’s unforgiving smile upon my peaceful domain. Nope. No meditating outside today. I’ll just sit on the couch.

Breath in…
Bzzt bzzt. “Incoming call!” sang my phone

Godambit. Who is it? Becca? Hmmm I only put her first name in the contact info. Becca Comstock the director, or Becca Penda the costume designer? Ehhh I’ll let it go to voicemail either way.

Breath in…
Bzzt bzzt. “New voicemail!” sang my phone.

*Sighh* Let’s see the audio transcript. Uh oh Becca Comstock. Yada yada. Get to the point lady, I’m busy trying to meditate here. 45 minutes? I have 45 minutes to get to the shoot? C’mon! I just woke up, I haven’t meditated yet, and that’s a 30 minute drive! Ok I’ll just meditate real quick, then slap on some clothes.

Ok Breath in…
Bzzt bzzt.

Really? A text message immediately after a voicemail? Telling me not to be late? Ok I get it Becca. I do. I’ve been late before. Fine. I’ll be right there. I promise.
Raaaagh! No more messages! I hurled my phone across the room into the corner.

Breath in…
What if I’m late again?
Breath out…
Everyone will hate me for wasting their time.
Breath in…
Everyone already hates me.
Beath out…
It’s because I’m fat and ugly.
Breath in… actually this isn’t working. I need to go for quick 5 minute walk on my treadmill to clear my head.

I walk to the treadmill and set it to 3.0 miles per hour. This is stupid. Only lazy jerk wads go 3 miles an hour. I cranked it up to 6.0 miles per hour. After getting winded from 1:29 of running I decided I’m thirsty. I can’t be dehydrated on set anyway.

Unfortunately the kitchen has a mirror on the fridge. I stare at myself for what feels like an eternity. What am I doing with my life? Who am I kidding? My life is a joke. Let’s be serious, an actor? You? Meditating? How stupid do you have to be?

Recycling these thoughts through my head distracted me from the task at hand, holding a glass of water. It shatters on the ground, kicking me out of my trance. I need help. I pick up my emergency phone that I keep hidden behind the cereal boxes.

Hello? Can you get here as soon as possible?

He arrives almost as soon as I hang up. He looks like he always has, sleeveless orange robe, loose black pants, and that classic bald head.

What’s the problem?

The problem is that I can’t meditate! It screws me up! I get all clammed up. I can’t focus. I can’t relax. My brain feels like a tangled spool of thread. I think I’m having a nervous breakdown!

Ok I’ll just sit down for a second. Good idea. What’s that? You’re going to teach me an ancient, secret Buddhist technique for attaining inner peace that’s even older, and better than meditation? Ok I’ll do anything, just tell me what to do.

Breath out..
Breath in…
Breath out…
Breath in…

In my mind’s eye I could see myself encased in a chunk of ice. The ice thawed until finally I could push myself out. Finally. There was a glass key and a glass padlock next to me. I stuck the key in the lock and watched in amazement as each tooth aligned perfectly with the pins and the cylinder turned. I began to grow in size until I couldn’t fit under the sky. I dug my fingers in and pried with all my might until I hatched myself into the great abyss.

I felt renewed. I hugged him and thanked him deeply. By the way, what’s the name of that technique you taught me? Tetimation? It seems an awful lot like meditation, except that you breath out first, instead of breathing in first. Hey, I guess the right technique, is the one that works, right?