Personal Essay

Not Very Nice

Turns out enlightenment has a bedtime

Photo by Sage Friedman on Unsplash

I took a meditation course at a spiritual center upstate. There were several programs running that long weekend: Conscious Cooking, Find Yourself On the Mat, and mine, Deepen Your Meditation Practice.

I stayed in a four-person dorm with half walls between the bed and armoire chambers. It was enough for visual privacy, but we could hear all the shifts and coughs and drawer openings.

Long after lights-out, somewhere in the middle of the first night, a lamp brightened the building. I rolled over, pulled a sheet over my head. One of my neighbors sniffled and coughed and struggled to clear her nose and throat. I debated whether to look for my ear plugs. She was clearly in distress, first night in the country, away from the tolerated allergens of the city.

Into the darkness someone else in the bunkhouse yelled, “Blow your f***ing nose.”

Soon enough, the light went out, the sounds settled. I fell back asleep.

During the quiet time after lunch the next day, I returned for a nap. On the door to my personal chamber, someone had left a sticky note. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“It wasn’t me,” I protested to the oak trees.

You’d think the best of ourselves comes out at a spiritual center, where the quiet part can come forward. Where we’re separated from the honks and sirens and angry voices.

Wherever you go… there you are.

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