I just don’t think I’m cut out for meditation. My brain is one of those that doesn’t have an “off” button. But while I’m going through this illness, this radiation treatment, my dearest friend, Loraine, recommended I give it a try. I said, “How?” She said, “I’ll send you a link.”
She did. It was nearly bedtime anyway (I find it difficult to stay awake past 7:30 p.m. nowadays), so I thought, perfect time to give this a try! It was a guided meditation by a Master by the name of Davidji, who Loraine highly recommended. I clicked on the link she sent me, donned my headphones, and prepared to embark on the quest for the “off button” in my brain.
Well, the first thing out of Davidji’s mouth was “Get comfortable. If you’re not comfortable, then you won’t be back.” He was right—and I wasn’t particularly comfortable, sitting at my desk in front of my computer. Comfortable for working, but not for meditation. Okay, time to take this to the bedroom.
Come on, Davidji boy, follow me to my boudoir . . .
Propping myself up on a bunch of pillows, I slipped off my shoes and got comfy. Then I picked up my iPhone and attempted to plug in my headset. No go. My new phone case is apparently not set up with a ready-to-use hole for the earphones, so after struggling with that for a few minutes, I tore the damn thing out of the case and plugged in the headset. There. Done.
I snuggled back into my pillows, clicked on the link, and hit “Play.”
It took another few minutes to realize that to listen to this recording on my iPhone, I needed a software app called SoundCloud. Okay, go to SoundCloud, hit download. It took FOREVER. Well, maybe not forever . . .but I was ready to meditate, Man! I was in the mood for relaxation and positive Chi and all that stuff. So, I stared at the little round download thingy and waited. And waited. And waited.
Ah! Finally done. Click open. Yes, I know this is a program downloaded off the Internet, and YES, I’m sure I want to open it. NOW.
Click. Swipe. Wait. Swear. Open. Push arrow. Push arrow AGAIN. Aha!
I hear Davidji’s soothing voice rumbling into my ears (it’s actually kind of a coarse, gruff voice, which I found surprising, but anyway . . .). I allow my eyes to drift closed gently, lay my hands on the bed beside me, palms up, and prepare for takeoff.
About five or six minutes later, I’m thinking (which I shouldn’t be, I know—I’m supposed to be meditating), but I’m thinking, “wow, this is nice. Soothing. Maybe I can do this after—”
Click. Silence. In the middle of a sentence? Davidji, Baby . . .where did you go???
Apparently, Davidji’s voice was so soothing, he put my phone to sleep. But upon awakening it, I couldn’t get the damn recording to play no matter what I did.
Okay, plan B. I walk back into my office and look around. Unplugging all the doo-dads off my laptop is WAY more trouble than I’m up for right now, so I dig out my smaller, more portable Surface. Please, God, let it be charged. Ah! Great. It is.
So, I fire that puppy up, type in Davidji’s web address, and click the arrow.
It’s asking for my email address to join his mailing list. I type it in, misspelling it twice because now I’m not only exhausted, but frustrated as hell. I want to meditate, damn it! Let’s get this show on the road!
Okay, got it typed in. Now hit “Join.” Click. Click. Why isn’t this button live? Is my mouse dead? Go to touchscreen. Touch. Touch. Mash. Tap, tap, tap.
This isn’t working.
Before I end up cracking the touchscreen on my Surface, I slam it shut and stalk off to bed.
Maybe I’m right. I’m just not cut out for this mediation thing after all.