This Week Has Been Hell: A Meditation

Greetings from Hell.


I should have known hell wouldn't be the burning inferno the Christian religion always falsely sacred people into thinking it was. Nope, hell is freezing. And no matter how many layers of blankets or wool socks or colorful gloves you have you cannot escape the painful piercing cold of hell.

It's awful.


Some people believe that heaven and hell are different for everyone - based on the person and their beliefs.

So, Sarah Goes To Heaven would look like.... a slightly more colorful version of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory but on a cruise ship that will never ever sink or breakdown full of fun, interesting, exceptionally polite and kind people who love to dance and sing and drink. Naturally the ship would have an open bar and a spa/salon that never closes. We would sail around traveling to exotic locations whilst reading or sun bathing or swimming in the chocolate fountain. I would have both ALL the alone time I want and ALL the company I want. Also, Ryan Gosling and Joseph Gordon Levitt would tend bar and perform nightly Cabarets.


Yeah, that sounds quite nice. I'd like to go to there. Right now.


Sarah Goes To Hell would look like....this week. It would be cold. The roads would be covered in ice and snow and horrible stupid drivers. I would have constant annoying and/or painful ailments that altered my appearance in an unpleasant way. I would have to go to a doctor or hospital or medical professional of some kind EVERY SINGLE DAY. My lips and skin would always be dry and chapped. The only things to eat would be expired Kraft American cheese slices and instant peach oatmeal (the horror!). All the movies playing at the theatres would be tear-jerkers, but would masquerade as comedies - making you laugh for the first 5 minutes, but then hitting you with 115 minutes of pure tragedy torture. All the children everywhere in the world no matter where I was would be screaming and covered in snot. Then after a day of snow and doctors and bad food and snotty children I would go home to my shithole apartment where my landlord had torn down the shower wall but still not fixed it.



Ugh. Today is rough. This week has been R-O-U-G-H rough. I didn't go to church on Sunday. Fuck church. FUCK IT RIGHT IN THE STEEPLE.


Funny thing though...

As all this shit was going down in my life, kinda scary shit, I desperately wanted to be at church. I found myself scrambling through webpages and meet-up groups trying to find an appropriate midweek service. Not because of the blog or my quest to attend church every week but just because over the past 12 months I've found that church can be quite peaceful and quite healing and quite helpful in a way that sitting at home or in a bar or in a movie theatre can't compare to.


So though I was sleep deprived and sick and sad and confused and worried about whatever the fuck was going on with the lump in my jaw and slightly nauseous from stress-eating I knew that I had to make it to church AT SOME POINT THIS WEEK.


If there's anything I learned from watching hours and hours of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? with my baby brother who was obsessed with show as a young child (so much so that for Christmas he asked Santa for a limo ride with Reggis Philbin) it's that when you aren't sure what to do - phone a friend. So, that's what I did. But not exactly a "friend" as much as someone I met while drunkenly randomly celebrating Cinco de Mayo in November who casually mentioned she attended a Thursday meditation group I might be interested in.  And not exactly "phoned". I facebooked her. Remember when we used phones to call people? That was silly.


Thursday Night. Study of Cosmic Intelligence with Yogini. 7:00. Little wooden cabin looking house in St. Louis.




Please enter.


The red door was cracked open so I walked through and entered a stranger's house. The front room was empty. The house was warm and calming filled with Christmas lights in colors I'd never seen - unique shades of orange and yellow and green and blue. I walked cautiously through the house until I heard the gentle sounds of a woman speaking. There in the back was a room filled with warmth and color and blankets and pillows and a small brown skinned woman in a turquoise and golden yellow sari named Yogini.

No one was wearing shoes so I took off mine and tucked them away with all the coats and belongings resting the room adjacent to the sanctuary. There were wooden benches lining the walls covered with pillows and soft blankets. I snuggled up next to a purple blanket and settled in for the experience. There were a few other people there, some sitting on the floor and others on the benches. No one acknowledged my presence.

Then Yogini looked up at me and welcomed me asking my name and my meditation style. I quietly said that though I had practiced many different styles there wasn't one that spoke to me. She offered to do a guided meditation for the service. I thanked her and closed my eyes.


Then....

I meditated.

Thoughts came and thoughts went. I didn't mind. I turned my palms up in a humble request for peace - peace that I needed so badly. Yogini's guided meditation was amazing. Not because anything she said was powerful or moving - I don't remember anything she said. It was amazing because of her energy and the environment our collective energy created. I felt safe and free and full of peace. I let go and for 30 wonderful minutes nothing existed but me. This was my first ever "successful" meditation. "Successful" being defined as the first time I didn't want to set something or someone on fire after it was over.


We opened our eyes slowly and quietly.


Then we had a discussion. A strange unusual discussion.


There was one topic.  WHY SATSANG ?

Satsang is an assembly of persons who listen to, talk about, and assimilate the truth. Satsang, in my mind, is a different word for church.


Why were we there? What were we doing? Why satsang? Why church?


The room fell silent. She wasn't going to give us the answer, because it wasn't her answer to give. I have never so desperately wanted someone to deliver a boring sermon. Listening to someone else babble about things they don't know is so much less terrifying than me having to babble about things I don't know.

A few people were brave enough to say something.

"I'm here to for the truth"
"I'm here for insight"
"I'm here to learn"
"I'm here to grow"

In my mind I was thinking I'm here to know more about myself  but was too scared to say it out loud because I was too afraid my answer was wrong or stupid or lacked depth or wisdom.

But that's why I was there. That's what I've been doing all this time - trying to know more about myself.


Yogini would respond to people's answers with more questions. Why do you think that? What makes you say that? How have you experienced that? There was never a conclusion.


I said nothing during the discussion, except once.


Yogini picked up a bouquet of flowers and said, "I do not see these flowers. Does anyone not understand that statement?"

No one moved. I raised my hand, "I don't understand"

She smiled and said, "You are the only honest person here."

Then she explained looking at me the whole time.

I cannot see these flowers. I did not see the soil they grew in or the rain that watered them. I do not know what they experienced in the field. I do not know who cut them down or boxed them up. I never saw the truck that brought them to the store or the clerk that set them on the shelf. I can only use my eyes to view these flowers right here in this current moment, but I do not see them.

She smiled sweetly at me and knew that I not only understood what she was saying but greatly appreciated her beautiful explanation.



I spent the rest of the time soaking up all I could from the experience, but I don't have much more to share with you. Because I experienced everything through my own lens. You may have taken something totally different away from the service had you attended instead of me.


As I walked down the etched stone steps and down the snowy sidewalk to my car I had a revelation. I understood what this journey was about and why this visit was saved for this specific day.


You'll notice there are no pictures in this blog. There was no point. You could visually view the image with your eyes but you wouldn't be able to see it. So, I didn't bother.



All further insights from this post will be shared in my final reflections.


Until then....