Post-Meditation Journal Entry # 14

12/26/2017 (6:39 am – 6:54 am)

And the thought arose from the ocean of my mind and said, “Ask the breath. The breath will tell you both your question and answer.”

I had a vision. I thought about a current situation that I cannot control and a thought-emotion-image popped into my head. I was in early elementary school and I felt a bad feeling. I didn’t like early elementary school. Especially, the first two grades. I remember coming home crying to my mother one kindergarten day, saying how no one likes me. School was a jungle to me. People were wild and heartless animals and I could not understand their language. I was used to a certain level of attention and nurturing from home, from mother, but these kids just didn’t react to my jokes and TV references and my personality.

People were just mean without reason and no matter how many decent classmates were actually there, the sucky people stuck out the most. They were into who-likes-who-type things and who’s-being-bad-type things.

I always wanted to go home early in kindergarten and first grade. I was quiet and inside myself with no sense of social intuition. These kids were like Soviet gymnast on steroids when it came to socialization and I was Popeye pre-spinach.

I felt those feelings in that split second of meditation. I could see how those feelings began in early grade school and still follow me until this day. I had no control. Everyone and everything else did have the control, at least the illusion of it. But it’s better than nothing.

I formed my ego in the middle of a cursive writing lesson, writing out my name in the hope that one day I could sign autographs like Michael Jackson. The seeds for becoming a writer were planted on that paper with that lead pencil.

I don’t know what seeing that image and feeling that feeling will do for me. My guess is that its benefits will not take effect for another few months. For now, I’m made a connection and I know now with more certainty what meditation has been telling me for last year: God is in the breath, not the concept.

Post-Meditation Journal Entry # 11 and # 12

8/13/17 (5:20-5:31, I could not find the first part of my writing.)

…like the feeling was one of being given was the intangible gift of human decency and consideration.

I felt moments of joy that were broken by the thought that I’m better at this. This was a very healthy sit. I still refuse to meditate up to 20 minutes at home, still impatient and I don’t know why. I feed my thoughts like a junkyard dog, guarding the rubbish of ego. I swear I tend to my thoughts more than anyone in this world.

Good sit. Very good sit.

8/21/17 (2:20-2:23, nearly 20 minutes before the solar eclipse)

I think I saw nirvana. It was drowning in cathartic emotion, like crying, like dying and winning the race.

I was angry. I saw the object of my rage and wanted to hurt that person for hurting me, insulting me. I’d been arguing with him in my head a better part of the day, trying to win the war, trying to take back the past. And for some reason (maybe because of years of practice) I just said, “No. I will not do this.” And then I could feel the emotion. It was immense joy bound together with a deep sense of trepidation. It was good, but it was overwhelming. It was scary, but I think it was love, maybe. I saw a cabin in a forest. It was small, more like a bungalow and it had a small porch and afternoon sunlight penetrated the trees to create a light around the perimeter of the cabin, a bright light that illuminated the dirt and made it more dense in detail and clear. And I think I saw Jesus. Either his image superimposed on the cabin or maybe him standing on the cabin porch. I tried to sit longer. I refused. I had to write it.

P.S. I thought about that emotion that lasted for a split second and I felt that I had felt that emotion at one point in my life. I couldn’t identify it for a minute or two. Then finally I said to myself, “This is what I have experienced on the future day of my death.”

The Accidental Atheist

“I am an atheist,” Mrs. Holis, my sixth grade teacher said. “I believe that when you die that’s it. There is no heaven. No hell. Nothing. You’re just a body and when you die you go back into the earth”

My eleven-year-old mind could neither conceive nor understand an end to consciousness. I took this to mean that when you die, you sit in a casket fully awake until the end of time. I carried this image all through middle school.

Two years later, walking home from the mall, she emerged from a porch with another lady. She saw me.

“How are you?!” she said.

“I’m fine. How are you?” I said.

“Great. Are you doing well in school?”

“I guess.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too good.”

“I know.”

She took out a brochure. “Well, I just want you to know that God loves you…”

“Okay.”

She handed the brochure to me. I took it. “And Jesus is our lord and savior.”

“Okay.”

“Do you believe in the Lord, Marc?”

“Yeah.”

“And do you believe in Jesus?”

“I guess.”

“Well, do you believe that God sent down his only begotten son to save your soul?

“I don’t know.”

“Well, this literature will help you understand the sacrifice that Jesus made for you. Okay, hun?”

I took the pamphlet and looked at the pictures on the way home. I then tossed it over the bridge and into the Jordan creek.

I felt a sense of relief deep inside knowing that she was no longer an atheist.

She might have been wrong back then. I might have to sit in a casket until the Earth explodes. Thank God.