Well now spin this around, to the 'dating dance'...interminable meets and fails, hopes, needs, expectations, and ultimate denials. Let's spin it one more time. You're desperately depressed. Someone sets you up, for therapy with a 'mindfulness meditation group'.
The therapist calls, says...he hears you want to join his group, but you've missed one of twelve sessions, already...can you make 'the next Friday'. Well, no, it's a three hour round trip, and you already have another clinic appointment on Thursday, same town, same place.
"Oh well then, that wont work...you would have missed the first two most important group sessions. Maybe we could set it up for the next cycle?" , says a whiney liberal voice. Whatever. They don't do 'meditation' here, like they do in Asia. They don't do Accupuncture here, like they do in Asia.
They don't have 4,000 years of history in these wonderful arts. They have a hundred and twenty hours, at a community college of some kind, and a brittle diploma of 'bonafides' on the wall.
A Buddha statue sits somewhere in the environs, some 'canned' environmental music piped in, and a 'tight chic/ or dude' with a sprout eating attitude, that passes for spiritual...and they wouldn't say 'shit', if they had a mouthful!
This is what passes for 'spiritual' in the good old USA. So, you go, you listen, you watch them stretch their tight ass tendons. You listen to them 'discourse' a few well trod wisdom's, from world teachers, old and very old...and new.
You haven't exactly happened upon Dharmasala, or Shambala, or Lhasa. You leave, more depressed than before, and you wonder about 'connections', phoney liberal pretenders, to the arts and sciences of the spiritual, and you decide to stay home, next time.
Home is always better, and you wish for your guru, but you'll just have to be your own. You walk to the mail. An envelope. A bill...from 'the spiritual'. Jesus Christ, that's a lot!
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2017, at Deming, New Mexico
Art: Key Gompa, India
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