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The Meditation Curse

So the meditation didn’t actually go so badly, at least not until after I was done. I sat quietly and repeated the words about loving kindness and being well and all that for the allotted period of time without thinking too many times about how silly I felt and how my therapist must be nuts to think this was going to be transformative. Being tired helped because I was definitely in favor of pretty much anything that meant I held still. Closed eyes? Extra bonus points. Cricket, who had been sacked out peacefully in her bed under my desk, decided I needed help meditating and jumped into my lap. It may be an unconventional technique, but I don’t think it ruined the experience. I am making a good faith effort and I’m going to do it again today.

I may have mentioned once or twice or a dozen times that I have an unfortunate tendency to superstition. I understand the world in terms of luck and omens. I know this is foolish, but it happens to me anyway. It is not a good thing when at the conclusion of a meditation about peace and happiness I receive an email rejecting my latest manuscript.

It’s arguable that I coped better than I would have without the meditation. And it’s not like I wasn’t expecting rejection. But for whatever reason, this particular rejection hit me harder than normal. And I am now susceptible to the idea that meditation is cursed. Maybe I’ll do something I don’t like doing right after it, so that the curse falls on something nasty…

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jan_can_too
jan_can_too

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