Throw me a bone, Buddha

Recently I started trying to meditate in order to clear my mind and resist the spontaneous urge to behead folks in the Wal Mart. I feel like meditation's the healthier of the two, and besides, I'd really feel bad for the person who had to clean that up.

Meditating has proven a harder task than I originally thought. To clarify, the act of meditating isn't necessarily difficult for me. I possess a natural ability to sit in one spot and not move, so that's not really the issue.

The first problem is that my house doesn't have the appropriate amount of insulation in the walls to effectively reach "the silence". There are machine guns blasts from the PS3, the dogs fighting over a bone on the wood floors, and the sounds of my husband clinking beer glasses in the kitchen. The quest for the silence morphs into something more reminiscent of the Silence of the Lambs. Skin vests are not in season this fall, no matter how well crafted or fancy they may be.

The next obstacle is that, even if I do reach the silence, I'm suddenly jolted back into reality by the adolescent ringing of the doorbell 32 times in a fast row. No, not my son's friends, but my seventy-seven year old dad who hopes to turn thirteen on his next birthday. That shit causes PTSD, dad. And you're responsible, just like when I saw your ass that time. Happy early birthday.

I've decided that the only way to make this meditation deal work is to build myself a tiny, soundproof fortress that locks from the inside. It will be covered in electrically charged barbed wire and have all the bare necessities, like a wine spigot and a direct line to the Buddha. I can see it now...

"Buddha, it's me again. Though I can't hear them being shocked, the smell of burning flesh keeps knocking me out of the silence."

"Lady, quit drunk dialing me. This violates the terms of the restraining order."

"C'mon. Quit hogging all the knowledge."

"You can't torture people who mess up your meditation. This defeats the purpose."

"I thought you knew stuff. That's just bad advice."

"Well then here's some advice: GET A LIFE LADY!" click.

Not very Christian, Buddha. Not. Very. Christian.

Anyway, if you have any better advice for me, I'd sure appreciate it. Otherwise you may see me on an episode of America's Most Wanted, last spotted running down the street naked in a skin vest. You could be the one to save me...

 

 

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