Emily Mitchell - Viral - Stories

Can you imagine how distracting that was for the other students? For me? I mean, he could not have found a better way to call attention to himself if he’d stood at the center of the room screaming “Look at me!” over and over. At least if he’d screamed, I could have asked him to leave but as it was I couldn’t really say anything because, after all, I had just told everyone that they were free to take any posture they wanted and I didn’t want to seem to have suddenly turned judgmental and hypocritical.

Every week, when time for class rolled around again, I’d hope that maybe he wouldn’t come, but he always did, regular as clockwork. Eventually, he started to unnerve the other students so much that the numbers in the class dropped drastically and the community center canceled it and filled that timeslot with Jazzercise instead. I lost my job, which was really terrible for a while, although I’m over it now that I’ve started making these recordings. All because of Mr. Shoulder Stand. Wherever he is now, I hope that one day he’s doing a shoulder stand and his neck gets stuck so his head is permanently frozen at a 30-degree angle to his shoulders and for the rest of his life he has to walk around looking at his own belly button. That would serve him right.

Anyway, once you are in your comfortable position, whatever it might be, close your eyes. Relax your eyelids. Feel your tension ebb away. Feel it draining down, as if it was water being let out of a sink, slowly spiraling toward the drain until it is gone. If you don’t feel the tension draining out of you, you really need to try a bit harder to relax. And don’t tell me that you don’t have very much tension to get rid of, because obviously you do. Otherwise why would you be doing this meditation? If you were just fine, if you had no stress or problems, you’d be out doing something more productive with your time, like brushing up on your Spanish or finally learning how to ballroom dance or volunteering to help the hungry or the homeless or some other group of needy citizens in your community. Or you might be reading one of those books that you still haven’t read even though it has been on your list of must-reads for years now, like War and Peace. But instead you are here lying or sitting or squatting or whatever because at some point you felt bad enough and tense enough to buy this recording.

I don’t claim to know what your particular problem is, of course. Maybe you have trouble getting to sleep. Or else you have trouble staying asleep through the night. You wake up in the early morning hours, in those dead-still hours before dawn when even the stray cats are silent, and you find your heart racing and your stomach doing flips inside you, and you are certain that there is some all-important thing that you forgot to do the day before and, though now you can’t remember what it was, you’re just as certain that your failure to do this forgotten, all-important thing will alter your life forever, irremediably, for the worse, and you lie in the dark with your heart flailing in your chest like a drowning person until finally after what seems like years dawn comes seeping underneath your blinds in a sad flood.

Or maybe that isn’t it at all. Maybe, instead of being anxious, you’re depressed. Maybe each day you drag yourself from bed feeling like someone has been scraping out the inside of your skull with a spoon the way that people scrape the rinds of their breakfast grapefruits. Maybe, as you move robotically through the hollow morning rituals of making coffee, showering, brushing your teeth, going to work, you feel like all you want is to crawl back into bed to hide. Maybe your bones feel like they are made of lead. Maybe you drink every afternoon at five to try to relieve the tightness in your throat that feels like a hand clamped around it, squeezing and squeezing without stint.

Maybe you felt some or all of these things when you picked out this recording in the bookstore or clicked to purchase it online. I don’t know what made you so desperate for the calm and insight meditation brings that you decided to make that purchase. I would never claim to know that. I’m not you.

But, whatever it was, this is really, really not the time to be thinking about those things. How do you expect to be able to enter into a state of mind to gain perspective on your life when you are so wrapped up in thinking about how bad you feel? You really have to let it go, at least temporarily, if you want to move forward on this spiritual journey. Do you really think that your problems are going to go anywhere if you stop paying attention to them for a while? I can tell you from experience: they will not. They will still be waiting for you when you open your eyes. So, for god’s sake, let it go for just a little while.

I mean, think about me for a second. I have put a lot of effort into making this recording, developing this whole experience for you and you can’t even be bothered to pay attention to it for the time it takes to complete it. In all seriousness, show me the respect of trying to follow my instructions. Or if you can’t do that, at least pretend, so that I don’t have to feel any worse than I already do. That shouldn’t be so much to ask.

Okay. Now you are relaxed. All your tension has melted away. You feel like you are floating, your body light and soft, your mind relaxed but sharp and alert.

I want you to imagine that you are walking along a corridor. Any corridor in any kind of building will do, although it’s probably better if it isn’t one of those institutional corridors, the kind you find in high schools or underfunded public colleges, with linoleum tiles on the floor that alternate between cheese-color and pigeon-color and no windows and the cinderblock walls that look like someone chose their shade because the paint company had it on sale back in 1973 last time they decorated. I have spent quite a lot of time in corridors like that, and I’m telling you that some other kind of corridor will work better for this exercise. Like a corridor in an expensive hotel or a grand, old, Ivy League library or an exclusive Asian-style spa — someplace more reminiscent of wealth, comfort and attention to interior design.

Hospital corridors are not great for this either, for obvious reasons. Although of course, as always, it is up to you.

Walk down the corridor. At the end of the corridor is a set of elevator doors. Press the button to call the elevator. Naturally, the elevator doors will be part of your imaginary corridor, so if you failed to take my previous advice and you pictured a corridor in a DSS office or a halfway house, the door might have a dent or a curved black scuff mark where someone kicked it in frustration some time ago and no one has yet come to repair the damage. There might be graffiti on the door written in marker pen or scratched into the paint at just about eye level so that you more or less have to look at it while you wait. Maybe this graffiti is telling you the names of two people who plan to be 2gether 4ever. Or maybe it is someone’s name scrawled in some stylish but unintelligible way. Or maybe it is obscene: pictures of human body parts or indictments of someone’s virtue or fidelity or sexual prowess.

If you haven’t pressed the button to call the elevator, you should hurry up and do so. The rest of us don’t want to wait while you hang around looking at the drawing of breasts on the door of your imaginary elevator.

The elevator arrives and the doors open. You step inside. The elevator should be empty. I hope, for your sake, it is. If there is someone in the elevator, you might want to think seriously about not getting inside because that is not part of this meditation. I can’t tell you who this person in the elevator is or what they are doing there. This is not my imaginary elevator, it is yours.