music for airports

Here’s what you would do:

You would trust this isn’t some vanity trip; trust that this is for you.  You would put on a pair of headphones, and you would hit play.  Then you would wait — not forever, but giving it a bit.  Then you would hit play.  Then you would wait.  Then you would hit play.  Then you would wait.  Then you would hit play.

I have provided you with 4 buttons.

Then you would be quiet for ten minutes.  Ten minutes.  It would be difficult.  You would tell your brain to shush and leave you alone.  Already it’s telling you this is bullshit — That’s good, means you’re getting close.

You would close your eyes and let that constant back-biting self-chatter slow and swirl away, like water circling a drain. You would send everything with it, good and bad, it all has to go. You would let the voice float away from you, sitting on all your baggage, gripping the bars of its cage, screaming desperately for attention. You would watch it recede and fade and disappear.

Just for ten minutes, I promise.

It would come back.

Let it go.

You would find the recess that remains: that little silent part of you that isn’t your thoughts.  That’s where you would be.  When it opened up, that silence, it would be vast beyond words.  You would be an empty, thoughtless, breathing sensory organ.

You would feel.

That’s all you would do.

Now instead of ten minutes, take
ten seconds to ask yourself
honestly
why?

Because we both know
that though you have ten minutes
and you desperately want peace
and you know meditation works
let’s be honest, we both know
you won’t.

So.
As an embarrassed yoga teacher
who teaches meditation
but won’t meditate,
I’ll do this with you:

Instead of ten minutes, take
ten seconds (you have
ten seconds) to ask yourself
honestly
WHY?
Why won’t I do this?

What do I have to lose?