White Owl Island

In Search of Serenity

I didn’t stop with the haircut.  My date with Destiny wasn’t until that evening and I didn’t want to spend the whole time back at the abbey imagining different scenarios and working myself into a frenzy.  If allowed to do that, by the time I actually met Elijah, he’d be administering CPR instead of sending flirtatious glances my way.  To kill time I browsed through the Self Help section of the bookstore until I found a book on meditation.  All I knew about deep breathing I learned from “Oprah,” but I figured I might need more options over the next several days and months.  After purchasing my book I walked to the coffee shop next door to buy a cup of green ginger tea.  With book and tea in hand, I headed back to the park for a crash course on meditation.

Buddha couldn’t have asked for a better setting.  I chose a bench on the opposite side of the park this time, facing a small pond.  Red and blue flowers accented its banks, and the morning sun played in its ripples.   With the heat of the day on the rise, I spent the first fifteen minutes just sitting on the bench and breathing in the sun.  If only I could have packaged and preserved that scene, there’d be no need for the book Learn to Meditate, but as soon as I boarded the bus back to the abbey, the serenity of the morning would be left standing on the curb.  So I opened the book and read through its first few pages.

From the onset I seemed doomed to failure.  Somehow I had to blaze through the densely populated forest of my thoughts and stresses until I arrived at an open field, a place void of worries.  I didn’t even know that place existed.  And to reach that Promised Land, I needed to focus my attention on a particular object or sound.  Not likely. My mind was like a two year old without supervision; it constantly wandered off and got itself into trouble.  But nevertheless, I wanted to try.  The idea of controlling my thoughts appealed to me.

As instructed, I closed my eyes and breathed in and out slowly.  I concentrated on the image of the abbey’s lake, but within seconds fish started jumping out of its waters.  I mentally pushed them under and stilled the lake once again.  But then a Loch Ness-type monster reared up and started plodding toward me, seaweed dripping off its massive frame. To erase that image I had to open my eyes and blink several times.  Before resuming my attempt to discipline my mind, I opened the book and reread the last page just to see if I was missing something, but the book said it was normal for thoughts to creep in, just don’t focus on them, merely observe and allow them to pass,  just like you’re watching television.

I closed my eyes, relaxed my breathing, and tuned into the lake again, trying not to concentrate on my concentrating.  And for several seconds it worked, until an image appeared on my screen.  In it a young boy kneeled at the edge of the lake, staring into a golden goblet.  I knelt beside him and, at his urging, leaned over to see what captured his attention.  A face filled the liquid of the goblet, not the boy’s, not mine, but Elijah’s. Mesmerized by his dark eyes I leaned closer, and his head came out of the goblet and kissed me on the lips!

Startled by the vision I jumped off the bench, dropping the book on meditation from my lap to the ground.  I almost left it lying there, even felt tempted to kick it into the pond, but I realized it wasn’t the book’s fault my thoughts were so impish.  And knowing how beneficial meditating could be, I still wanted to try to master it, or at least manage five minutes of uninterrupted thought.  Obviously, I needed a lot of practice.  So I picked up the book and headed off to find a place to buy some lunch and despite the hour, a glass of wine.  Plan B for relaxation.  Soon enough I’d be on the bus back to the abbey and I needed something to calm my nerves.