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Break something on purpose. Drop an old lamp onto the floor. Smash an old television, etc. Film the event and then post it to Youtube.
»» Greg Eggebeen

How to tell a story about an action without a purpose?

I suppose I could try to put meaning behind Greg’s assignment (one of a dozen he proposed, others including: join a mud wrestling league; watch 24 straight hours of MTV, &, my favorite, “Complete a 1000 piece puzzle. Or 5000. Just, like, a really big puzzle”), but when your assignment is to videotape yourself smashing something, then put that video on Youtube, searching for a ‘deeper meaning’ might be a lost cause. So, because I make everything harder than it needs to be, I made a project…of the project.

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I made my fourth attempt at meditation last week &, as with two of the three attempts before it, I fell asleep on the floor.

I have a hunch that this isn’t how it should be. I also have a hunch that I shouldn’t be having dreams about Mel Torme sitting at the end of a long dining table, illuminated by a single spotlight & asking me over & over again where the god damn salt was.

To clarify, I’m not being a complete dope about the meditating process. I am sitting upright, alone in a quiet space, attempting to channel my energies in a positive way & ‘calm my being’. I don’t wait until just before bed, when I’m sure to be exhausted. No, I am not overly full. No, I am not high (what up, future employers who Googled my name!). But every time I sit down and close my eyes, one of two things happens:

1. I think about the 10,000 other things that I should be doing instead of sitting on my ass, literally trying to think of nothing.
2. I fall asleep. With Mel Torme.

I decided that a little research was in order, & set off to that great book boon in the sky, Amazon.com. Entering “meditate” on their handy little search bar, the breath was sucked from my lungs when Amazon returned this:

72,250 BOOKS!!! ON MEDITATE!! One book – Royal Zen Garden – cost $2,459.47. $2,459.47!! USED!! I’m sorry, but unless I open that book & Jack’s fucking beanstalk pops out there is no way I can even conceive paying 2.5K for a book on meditative gardening.

Overwhelmed by Amazon (& totally guilty of judging books like this one by their covers), I opted instead to contact The School of Metaphysics, a facility far better equipped to help me with my meditation difficulties than a book that costs MORE THAN I EARNED IN THE WHOLE OF LAST YEAR possibly could.

I had a long post of the counsel the SOM had offered me, but they asked to review the material before I posted it on-line, & after a week of not hearing back from them, I’ve decided to simply forgo their quotations. I can tell you that they gave me lots of advice about meditation being a progressive process, not something you can just, well, do, & that I would be a lot better off working with a teacher than I would sitting in my apartment, alone with the centipedes.

They also referred me to a FREE yoga class taking place on the very block on which I live, an opportunity I was all to happy to learn of. So it was that, pumped up & equipped with my roommate’s adorable gray yoga pants, I opted to make a move away from meditation & ready myself for a morning of bodily contortion with random strangers in my first ever yoga class. Whee!