According to many of my friends, meditation is a great way to help treat all of the stress and anxieties in life. Lately, I’ve been pretty stressed out with working full time and getting ready to graduate from college. Surely, meditation could help me relax and just get away from all of the craziness for an hour or two. What could possibly go wrong in a meditation session? Sitting criss-cross applesauce with my eyes shut and some music on sounds pretty comfy on paper.
I saw an ad somewhere online for a meditation class that specifically caters to those who are dealing with great amounts of stress and anxiety. I wasn’t sure what this meant, maybe they’d play the music softly? Perhaps the instructor says some inspirational words at the close of the session? Regardless, I decided to just go and see for myself what this class was all about. Yeah, it might put me out of my comfort zone, but that’s a good thing, right?
I walked into the studio, and I was surprised to see it that it was a yoga studio and a chiropractor’s office in one space. In the waiting room, I was shocked to see five other people who were there for the meditation session. I thought it must half decent, there seemed to be many people who had come back after a previous session.
I was greeted by a 50-year-old Caucasian man who was wearing long white robes and a great amount of jewelry that looked very expensive. He assured me that the class had a cost of $10. I thought that was a pretty reasonable price to reduce my stress.
The waiting room was surrounded by all sorts of yoga books, and other natural remedies. Spices, creams, and other odds and ends. He had to have been well off financially. took that as a good sign if all of these people are paying him he must be pretty legit. As I was sitting down with all the other folks in the waiting room, I was on my phone responding to emails and texts from work. When suddenly, I heard a voice say:
“We ask that all prison phones be turned off”
I looked up to see the Guru’s smiling face. I wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. Prison phone? What the hell does that mean?
“You do why they call them that right? Prison phones?”
“No. No, I do not” I responded.
“Because they keep you in a cell, trapped from experiencing life as it should be. They destroy your brainwaves and make you less intelligent” The Guru said.
Other people in the waiting room seemed to have agreed with this logic, as one man said: “only my mother has my phone number!”
I lied and said I wish I could get rid of mine, but that I needed it for work and schooling purposes. They didn’t seem to even acknowledge that response.
An interesting observation I made during all of this was that the Guru was always surrounded by at least two or three different people. They were always around him, asking various medical questions. One fellow said that his diet consisted mainly of spicy foods, as that is a big part of his culture. He asked the Guru whether or not these foods would be allowed in his everyday diet. The Guru advised him that none of these foods should be consumed anymore, as they would be “like putting gas over a hot stove” and that “it wouldn’t allow him to emit certain energies.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that advice, maybe the guy had some preexisting health condition which I wasn’t aware of. Nonetheless, my bullshit meter was slowly starting to rise.
One of the ladies in the waiting room showed the Guru her hands, and with just a glance the Guru said:
“Ah, arthritis. You should consider drinking water with lemon regularly”
I mean I suppose you could tell that someone has arthritis from looking at their hands, but I wasn’t sure the reasoning behind the water with lemon. Then again, I’m not a health expert, but something was telling me that this guy wasn’t either.
Another lady entered and everyone, except me and another guy who I assumed, was also new, stood up and started clapping. The woman explained that she had just come back from some sort of long trip where she went to what I could only describe as a yoga retreat. She went on about saying how her life had been changed. If you’ve ever heard of the Netflix documentary series, Wild Wild Country it sort of sounded like she had come back from the Rajneesh cult town in Oregon.
Some five minutes or so had passed and it was time to go into the mediation room. We entered the room, and it was quite dark with a few dim lights. Many people went over to grab some extra yoga mats that were in the back of the room. Of course, I was last to get there, and I was stuck with a rug that looked more like a doormat than anything else. Everyone grabbed a cushion, and I was hesitant, thinking about all of the people who’ve sat on them before me. The Guru grabbed one for me, gave it to me, and thus I was now stuck with the cushion. I couldn’t be the only one without one, that’d be weird, right?
The Guru stepped on a stage of sorts, where he was about a foot or so above the rest of us. The hardcore meditators sat right in front with backs up super straight, and with a weird smile on their faces. It looked like they were really looking forward to what the Guru had to say. I guess they were just really into meditation. I looked around the room as the Guru read some kind of novel that was against the advancement of technology.
I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to it, but I remember feeling like everything he was reading was a bunch of bullshit. I looked to my right, and there was a huge painting of the Guru on the wall. At that moment, my bullshit detector was going off the charts. Here’s a guy, who wears all this fancy jewelry, gives shady medical advice to people and has a painting of himself on the wall. What can I say, I guess the dude is just a hustler. I respect that, but maybe stop with the medical advice.
Anyway, it was time for the real mediation to start. The Guru began playing the flute, and it was pretty entertaining. We did some deep breathing and closed our eyes and what not. I thought it was kind of nice, but I would periodically glance around the room to see what other people were doing. Everyone in there had their backs super straight, and there was no way in hell I could stay like that for an hour and a half. I guess they all did yoga because they seemed to be pretty flexible. The guy next to me was having a hard time too, and about ten minutes in he kind of just sat there in an average posture. We sat in the same pose for what seemed like an eternity. I kept thinking about all the stuff I had to get done when I got out of there. I kept trying the deep breathing techniques the Guru and others were doing, but it didn’t relax me very much. In fact, it got so quiet in there I felt like I could hear everything. Someone outside the bar across the street screamed: “THAT’S FUCKING LIT BRO.” I wanted to laugh, but no one else did so maybe that was considered inappropriate. It was pure silence for about 10 more minutes when one of the people in front of me decide to let out a roaring cough. It felt as if the entire room was shaking. My blood ran cold and I practically jumped off of the doormat I was sitting on. After a couple more minutes another thunderous cough came out of this man, and I was curious what sort of bullshit remedy the Guru would recommend for this sort of a cough. Every few minutes or so I’d look around and see what people were doing. I was trying to get a feel for the way I should be sitting, and I never exactly got that pose right. I guess I’m just out of shape. The poor bastard next to me kept moving and cracking his knuckles and it got to the point where I wanted to just scream “WHY CAN’T YOU SIT STILL DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE RIGHT NOW?” It was a very hostile thought, and I was surprised it popped into my head at meditation. The guy reminded me of Private Pyle from Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket. In fact, about halfway through the guy let out a fart. I’m serious, it wasn’t loud, but I still heard it. I felt bad for the guy, he seemed really nervous, he was sweating for sure. Maybe he thought this would help his anxiety too.
The Guru eventually caught me looking around the room, and stated to the room:
“Please keep your eyes closed, but keep your heart open.”
“What in the hell does that mean” is what I wanted to scream to the entire room. I wondered if they would throw me out for looking across the room. As for my heart, I’m really trying to meditate but I feel as though there is lack of good instructions. To be perfectly honest, I feel like I could’ve just put some whale noises on in my room and sat in my bed and I would’ve got better results. All of these people sitting here with their yoga gear, goofy outfits, and absurdly large water bottles make me feel like I’m not hardcore enough to meditate. How much water do you really need to meditate? This entire class is a sham, and people fart on the pillows. The Guru instructed us to lay down, and everyone put their head on the pillows. There is no way in hell I’m putting my head on a pillow strangers have been sitting on. I highly doubt they even wash those. What about lice? All of those people putting their heads on those things, no way man. I’ll pass.
Finally, after what seemed like thirty years the class came to an end. It did not decrease my stress levels. Quite the contrary actually, I was angry I spent ten dollars on this class. I could’ve gone to the bar across the street and felt much more relaxed. It was worth shot I guess, but I’m not going back to the Yoga/Chiropractic/Meditation studio anytime soon. Unless I’m writing about potential cults. Because I really got a cultish vibe from those people.
The Guru kept trying to sell me various creams, books, and T-shirts as I was trying to leave the building. He asked me for a lot of other personal information. The entire experience was pretty uncomfortable. Let’s just say I won’t be going back.
