The woman wearing loose cotton pants, walked around our mats chanting her visualizations.  I paid good money to learn how to meditate until I reach a state of bliss, and I was going to get there or else, damn it!

            “You’re as light as a leaf floating in still water”.  She says in her best hypnotic monotone.  My Rolodex brain flips from one image to the next. “Still water? Now there’s a recipe for mosquitoes. I wonder if Cliff ever returned my leaf blower?”

            I closed my eyes as hard as I could, but no nirvana was to be found.  Maybe it’s because her images were so much like yard work, and that has never triggered relaxation in my little pea brain.  Why not have meaningful meditations that meet the needs of a variety of people?  Hmmmmm…my thoughts start to drift to…


              …A New York State of Mind

Listen up youse guys and goils,

imagine there’s no traffic on Madison below the park.

Smooth sailing down to your favorite deli

at Thoidy Thoid and Thoid.

The pastrami is hot and piled high.

You recognize the guy behind the counter.

He knocked up your old high school girlfriend, had to marry her, and now she looks like King Kong only with more hair, and that’s her at the cash register.

Ahhhh, you sigh with relief and let a warm wave of gratitude wash over you.



Or maybe something like…

                       …A Pirate Weighs Anchor

Arrrrrrgh matey, lower yer yardarms and trim yer sails.

All hands are below deck. Thar be a cool breeze at yer back since Nantucket.

Stars blanket the sky during the dogwatch night,

adrift in the honest air and upwind

from the rank bung hole buccaneers and seamen

who haven’t bathed or brushed their teeth in three months,

and reek to high heaven from every grimy orifice.

Now you steer to leeward to catch a breeze

 so’s you can’t even smell your own stink.

Arrrrrrrrrg, now that’s livin’ matey,

at least till the morrow.


 Or maybe something for the surfers in the crowd…

          …Like, Meditation, Dude

Time to chill little dudes and dudettes.

The surf is gnarly anyway.

Pull your suit out of your crack.

Let the sand warm your front

and the sun warm your back.

Close your eyes almost all the way, but

keep them open a slit so you can see the boss Betty with

the excellent rack, whose top is untied,

and might roll over any minute.

Chill, just chill, hang loose and let go of your burnouts and bummers,

till the waves are rippin’ again.



            “O.K everyone, take a cleansing breath and stretch. Were you all able to reach your deep relaxation state? You had such peaceful expressions.” She points to me with pride, “You were even smiling. You must have found my visualization very relaxing.” 

            Back lit by the setting sun I can see she’s not wearing a bra. “Yes, I think I’ve found my bliss”.