So here I am, sitting in the shadows of this room wondering what the bloody hell is going on, which sort of matches the way my life’s been panning out these last few years.
Light from the side alley strains through the curtains of the lone window, trying to reach the far corners of this dimly lit room. Maybe even trying to reach the far corners of my dimly lit spirit. But the light is bright enough for me to see the other folk in the room and fuck it all, bright enough for them to see me. Right now, I’m feeling damn uncomfortable.
I’m nervously fidgeting on the inside like I’ve a belly full of beer and bad gas. I want to melt into this corner, I want to sit still and I won’t be talking to anyone, otherwise the rest of them will notice and then I’ll be rooted. And definitely no eye contact. It’ll all be over soon then all that’s needed is a short, sharp exit out the door, down the road and back into the reality and sanctuary of my home that is my daughter’s garage. I’m not too sure what’s going on here, in fact I have no idea what’s going on so for now, I’ll just go with the flow and shut the fuck up, all the while thinking what a bit of bullshit this is.
As I wait for Melinda to start the meditation, I begin to feel really weird, which really suits this place and the people here. What have I let myself in for?
I’m not scared, just… apprehensive and more than a little uncomfortable. That nervous fidgeting on the inside remains as I want to scratch my bum and reset my meat and potatoes but civility scores a rare win and I suffer in silence.
My hands and feet start to go twilight zoning, all tingly and resonating like the pins and needles blokes get when they sit on their hand to make it go quite numb for reasons of male self gratification – good ol’ choking the chicken. Faarrrk. I haven’t felt this in my 48 years of walking this Earth. What in Hell is going on?
Melinda glides into the room like she’s on roller skates and serenely takes her seat. She asks us to concentrate on our breathing, to purposefully slow it down, to relax.
I gently inhale, pause, then exhale in the well controlled manner Melinda asks of us. She wants us to relax our feet, ankles, then legs all the way up to our faces and head.
Melinda then tells us to relax our consciousness by simply not thinking and in a short time my mind starts slowing down – like it doesn’t have to slow down all that much as it’s already in a low state of tune. And not thinking is a specialty of mine so I’m feeling oh so very clever in a bloke kind of way – ladies and dogs know what I’m talking about.
And I’ve got to say this relaxing thing feels really good. Nearly as good as the aforementioned chicken choking. But not quite.
The thoughts of the day are sliding away, being replaced with a certain coolness and calm I have previously only ever felf when I was knocked out playing rugby. I swear my head and neck are disconnected from my shoulders, which they nearly were after I was kneed in the groin and kicked in the head that afternoon on the football field at Cowra back in ’81. Today is same same but thankfully different.
Man I like this.